#I think so long as you have the autonomy to decide for yourself…. then it is nobody else’s business

[brokenpieces-72]

Hi, how are you? I was thinking that it would be really cool to have a medic who’s a phoenix with healing tears and maybe can be a combat medic who can “die” on the field only to be reborn again as a chick for a little while then become an adult again. I hope you like it. ❤️

Hi, I’m doing well thank you for asking. Hunter honestly deserves a break from time to time and I’m gonna try to write this character as male, because I don’t have many guys. Sorry this took so long, I honestly wasn't sure how to start, and then I decided on another start and then I had two in the same place. So yeah.

Nix

CoD Hybrid AU | Navigation

The most annoying thing about your condition is how often you have to deal with resets. A lot of your human regiments took your immortality and healing benefits for granted and often forgot, oh yeah you can still die. At the same time, being on a hybrid team meant most of them have healing factors so your tears didn’t do much.

When you returned for your new placement after getting shot down in the field you found a pleasant surprise. Section Chief Laswell, who you knew by reputation. She was there to give you information on your new station, which you were very pleased with. A couple of humans but mainly hybrids. As a combat medic you could be valuable when it came to injuries that the healing factors couldn’t handle.

This is what you had studied for, your research and work targeted towards hybrids and their autonomy and anatomy. The night before you shipped out you went over each file, twice. Not a single one was the same as the last. A dragon with one wing? If there’s one thing you sadly could heal with was limbs removed to that degree. A wraith was certainly a new one. The research that could be don-no! No. You had to be respectful, and you refused to treat anyone like an experiment. If you wanted to learn more you could do it via observation.

Arriving to base you were met with Captain Price, and the medic, Hunter. They both shook your hand, as you introduced yourself. You noted the shoulder weight on Price, to compensate for the missing wing. Maybe an improvement could be made, but that was something to discuss later on. For the most part you would be in combat, fighting and taking care of injuries on the field. Of course to make your fellow medic’s life easier you came with small dropper vials of your tears.

You would be working with Hunter the closest, who was more than happy to make you feel comfortable. You were escorted to the med bay where there were a few occupied cots and Hunter guided you through each of them. It was the same as any other first day on base, despite your experience. You only correct Hunter when they make obvious mistakes, knowing they were testing your skills. Hunter brought you to a cot with a man who may be one of the tallest you’ve met, passed out on the cot.

“And can you tell me what happened to this patient?” You asked Hunter before they could ask you. Hunter appreciated the playful challenge in your eyes.

“This is one of our KorTac transfers. He’s a Percht hybrid, and he’s recovering from a rampage.”

“Interesting. It happens often?” You asked.

“That he passes out at the end or that he goes on a rampage?” Hunter asked. You gave them a look, that reminded Hunter of their training days. “He passes out after every rampage, but doesn’t always go into one. For the most part his size and skills get him through the field well enough.”

“That must make it easier.” You commented. Hunter nodded.

“How long is the recovery period?” You asked, this time an actual question.

“Depends on various factors.” Hunter said. You assumed as much. Still, quite intriguing. “Once he wakes up though, I have to do routine physicals on each of the hybrids, if you don’t mind assisting.”

“Much more detailed look than any file will provide, I’m sure.” You said.

When Konig wakes up, he is still given a few hours to rest to work off a nasty headache, but he allows you to assist with his check up. You make small chat with him, but it’s clear that headache remains potent. Once you take some measurements and check scars and injuries he’s sent on his way. Decent enough guy.

Horangi is called in next, and as a haetae he’s equally intriguing. At first glance anyone would take it for a tiger hybrid but you’ve already read his file. He’s compliant but a little reserved. Still gives you casual respect, noting you definitely weren’t human. Though your features aren’t very obvious to anyone. Horangi gives you a nod out of courtesy and leaves once his health information is written down.

Price steps in, and when his shirt comes off you see the shoulder weight much more clearly. You can only imagine the amount of force it would take to rip his wing off let alone remove it from the socket completely. You asked the captain if the counter weight was even enough for proper balance. He admits it could be improved but at the same time he’s gotten used to it, and changes could make it a little difficult. You still offered to help him with finding him a better solution and he accepted.

A new pair of wings comes in, and shakes your hand almost immediately, recognizing you as a new face. Kyle commented on your warm hands, which were pleasantly toasty. Yeah you got that a lot. Kyle was curious about you though, noting you didn’t show any wings yourself, despite being a Phoenix. It’s a little more complicated than that, but he doesn’t pry anymore than you are comfortable with.

Johnny takes the seat and makes a few jests towards Hunter, who rolled their eyes. You aren’t afraid to make some comments of your own, which makes Johnny more relaxed around you. Good, you didn’t want to wrestle with a werewolf if you could avoid it. If you could avoid injury that was preferable.

When Simon steps in you feel it first, like there is death close by, simply waiting like a parent at a doctor’s office. You’d read up on Simon before coming to the base and you’d hardly heard of wraiths let alone seen one in person. Right off the bat you ask if questions are okay, and Simon prefers they’re kept to a minimum. You have most of your information from the files, so you simply ask him how he prefers his tea. Simon certainly feels a bit more at ease. You’ve seen plenty of cases in your time, you knew how to make people comfortable.

Next is Rodolfo, who is mostly human. His cadejos are very charming, and you get to give them some belly rubs. Easy, calm and relaxed conversation between you two. He and Hunter seem to be close.

Alejandro comes in and okay dang that’s some muscle. A nagual, a guardian. And Rudy’s husband. Proud of it too. You can understand why.

Finally, you meet the youngest which is Spirit. You offer to leave so she can be examined properly, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Hunter ensures she stays covered for the most part and you look away out of respect. Spirit is very excited to lift her shirt, to show you her ribs. Except you find a normal physique. Hunter still encourages her to keep it up, as they continue to examine them. A jackalope hybrid, with a wendigo form. Antlers are a little chipped but healthy enough. She’s sent on her way afterwards.

“Coffee?” You suggested to Hunter.

“Please.” They said.

“Seriously how do you fall out of a helicopter?” You asked Gaz on the roof. Gaz chuckled, shaking his head.

“Very talented my friend.” Gaz told him.

“Yes but when you have wings.” You said.

“Speaking of wings,” Kyle said. “Mind if I ask about yours?”

“How do you mean?” You asked.

“Well they told us you were a Phoenix. Guess I figured you’d have wings, you’re pretty rare specimen.” Gaz explained.

“Oh right. Ha…” you trailed off.

“If it’s a sensitive topic I get it.” Gaz said, you brushed it off.

“No no… I honestly don’t know why.” You said. “I remember being jealous of harpies like you though.”

Gaz’s wings puffed up a little. You smiled, enjoying the short time of peace and quiet. Gaz said, “I’m flattered.”

The team waited with baited breath at the clouded battlefield, waiting for you to return. Hunter stood near by, a stretcher ready to be loaded onto the helicopter. As soon as your silhouette was visible, carrying a barely conscious Rodolfo on your shoulder. You were in no better state, gritting your teeth and ignoring the blood you had. Alejandro and Hunter closed the distance between you and the rest of the team, Alejandro taking Rudy and Hunter catching you as you stumble from the weight being lifted.

As Hunter helps you to the helicopter, the propellers already starting up, you handed her a vial of clear liquid. "For Rudy. It will make his recovery...faster."

Hunter lowered your hand, focusing on getting you inside, and getting home. Rudy was laid on the stretcher, and hoisted in while Price gave you a hand, hauling you up and taking you to a seat. Hunter worked on Rudy first, taking the vial you'd offered. Admittedly Hunter almost didn't believe you, but given Rudy's condition, it was better to take the shot.

You watched, eyes growing tired and your vision blurring. Hunter was a brilliant medic. The eye dropper was used on Rudy's wounds, and healed over quickly. Poor guy would still need to rest as your tears couldn't do much for head injuries unless they were bleeding. You panted in your seat, before stealing a glance down. There were blood stains on your clothes, but you ignore them. You could use a break.

When Price tried to call Hunter over to give you attention, you put a hand on his arm. "I'm good."

"You're going to bleed out." Price argued. You just nodded. Yeah, you were.

"I'll be fine." You insisted. "Please Captain. Been needing a break."

"Hunter?" Price called, seemingly ignoring your wishes. "Just patch 'em up."

Hunter obliged. You weren't going to be leaving anytime soon. Sometimes for you it was easier to just hit the reset button. At least you had some good company, company that valued you for more than just your tears. You rest your head back, fighting to stay awake. Gritting your teeth you warmed your hand up, a soft warm glow appearing on your palm. The hand went to your wounds clotting them, before Hunter could get the bandages out.

“Damn it Nix!” They barked at you. You chuckled through your pain, as they batted your hand away and started to wrap you in gauze. “I could help you more if you would just let me.”

“I know… I know…” you said.

You were helped out of the helicopter by Simon, where you saw the rest of the team waiting. Johnny had a smile on his face until he saw you. Spirit’s face was covered by her hand in shock. Gaz rushed over immediately, taking your other arm to take the weight off Hunter but you shake your head. You were far enough.

“Set me down.” You breathed. Hunter looked at you, hating this part. “I’ll be fine.”

Hunter reluctantly lowered you to the ground, while Kyle stepped back. You turned your head to the side, seeing a sunset. Beautiful. Always beautiful. You overhear Spirit asking what was going on. Her concern was sweet. A deep breath and you shut your eyes. Another good ending.

The team looked on as your body burst into flames. Spirit gasped, eyes wide watching you burn. Johnny held her back, looking on as if it were just another campfire. Price folded his arms, wing going around Kyle on instinct. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, seeing someone they had come to care about, burning in front of them. Luckily it was also quick. Your body became a pile of ash.

“I hate it when he does that.” Hunter commented.

“It’s his choice.” Price reminded them. Doesn’t mean Hunter had to like it.

“What… what happened?” Spirit asked confused. She hadn’t seen you reset before, you’d only been back on the team for a short while, having been called to other assignments. Johnny let Spirit go, while Kyle approached the ashes.

“I’ll show you.” He said, gesturing for Spirit to approach. The jackalope came over seeing the pile of ash start to shift. “Come on you bald chicken, come on out.”

Your beak poked out of the ash your head following with it. Spirit gasped while Kyle smiled. You felt his finger stroke your head. You let out a happy chittering sound. “There he is.”

“I’ll get a blanket.” Hunter said.

The best part of your rebirth is probably the pampering. You already asked Kyle to show Spirit what to do before the mission. Kyle was fine with playing nursemaid, and giving Spirit some extra education.

“He remembers everything? Even though he died?” She asked while you were looking back at her in your blanket nest.

“Everything.” Kyle told her. “Only thing that changes is his age. He grows quickly from hatchling, and then it’s a matter of shifting back to human. By that point he’s an adult.”

“Never seen a phoenix before.” Spirit commented, resting her head on the table. You leaned over and nibbled at her nose, making her giggle. You got gentle strokes to beak as a reward.

It didn't take too long for you to get your feathers back. It let you take off, enough for some branching and practice, but not much distance yet. Spirit helped you by letting you ride on her antlers around the base. She was very careful, doing constant check ins to make sure you didn't fall off. If you weren't on Spirit's antlers you were riding somebody's shoulder. Except Simon's.

You don't feel safe around Simon in such a vulnerable state. If you had your human form, you would be fine. Simon is also fine with this. You're a phoenix, they're not very comfortable around undead, and technically speaking he is undead. Your skills against thralls and vampires were enough to satisfy him. Johnny is often in the same room anyways, so having a wolf as a mediator even with just his presence put you more at ease.

Hunter keeps you close as well. It's been a while since your last regeneration, so they take advantage to study you and any changes you might have in behaviour and personality. You don't mind, they don't needles to you except for any vaccinations they deem necessary. The other medics find your presence a treat, getting to greet you, and admire the beautiful warm colours of your feathers coming in.

Once you're able to fly a bit better, you often start to wake up Hunter. It's getting colder and the heating unit on base isn't exactly perfect, so some areas on the base are still chilly. You give off enough body heat that Hunter can pull on a hoodie, put you in the large packet, and have a couple minutes to warm up before getting their coffee. Sometimes Hunter puts the hoodie around your nest to heat it up over night.

Once Hunter has their morning coffee, you take off to wake the others. You land in front of Simon's door and let out a small cry. Simon doesn't always sleep, but rather he tries to relax in his room. Once there is movement, you move on to the next one. If Johnny isn't in Simon's room or outside after a full moon, you find him next. There's only so many places Johnny can be a full wolf inside, and the cold doesn't bother him, but Simon will open his door for you so you can nestle up next to him before letting off some extra heat. You may or may not nudge him with your beak, hey! No rolling over! Come on!

You're not quite heavy enough, and your talons can't grip the handle or knobs properly. First time you woke Simon he suggested he help you with your wake up calls. You didn;t object, and saw it as a trust excerise, since Johnny will help you if he's sharing a room with Simon for the night.

Alright, Kyle is next. Sometimes he's already awake or he's with the captain. Simon lets you in, and you fly over. Kyle is a harpy and therefore has some bird tendencies, include his wings covering his face a bit when he sleeps. You find an opening easily enough to wake him. Once your hear a soft morning from him you're able to get him out of bed. You let him wake up on his own, before heading out of the room and on to the next one.

Spirit is a typical teenager, and will try to ignore you like Johnny. That is if she doesn't try to curl up with you like a plushie. You land, wake her, and as soon as she reaches for you, you're off again. Spirit tends to get dressed and showered before eating breakfast anyways. You leave her to it.

You don't go to Konig if he's had a rampage the day before. He needs rest and he's unconscious. After the red mist he can make you aren't about to bother him. Konig is a gentle giant sure, you ride his shoulder any time the medics are uneasy around him to make them feel safe. You don't want to try to force him awake if you don't have to, and usually his rampages land him in the medbay anyways. Today you could wake him, and its the same as most, but you don't have to warm him up much. You get a warm greeting from him though as he drags himself out of bed.

You don't like waking up Horangi. Why? Because sometimes he's a jerk. More than once you've gone in to wake him, found his bed empty and are met with a haetae looking at you like Lucifer looks at a cornered mouse in Cinderella. You've taken to just letting out a call outside his door. One time you did this and Horangi opened the door ready to pounce and spook you. You retreated and let out a cry at him. Horangi was pretty smug, right up until he saw Simon close by, staring him down. Yeah, he stopped after that.

Alejandro and Rodolfo share a room, so not as much work. You can let out a call from hallway and they'll take a couple minutes. The two warm each other up, no issues there. You've gone in before and landed behind Alejandro, pecking at his back to wake him. Didn't work, he nearly rolled on top of you. If you hadn't cried out when you did, jolting him awake, you might have had some bent feathers. You go inside today though, as Rudy's injuries are still a little rough. It can take longer for him to fall asleep, and Alejandro struggles with sleep as a part of it. You're able to hop on to the bed, hop on to Rudy and land between them. You nudge Rudy first, who gives you some pets to get himself moving. Rudy then wakes the colonel, and you're on to the last one.

Price sleeps well enough but sometimes you find him sleeping on his desk or sitting next to his bed going over some files. Workaholic. Simon tries to scold him about it but well, it's not really scolding. More just commenting. Simon cracks open the door and you poke your head in. WOO! He's sleeping! You almost don't want to wake him. But you have to. The advantage here is that you can wamr up with him, because as a dragon hybrid he's pretty warm. You can nestle with him for a bit, giving him a couple miniutes before you wake him. Price groaned once you were comfortable. He saw you, and got out of bed, picking you up, and holding you to his core, where his body was the hottest.

Kyle takes you up to the roof anytime he relaxes up there. All he has to do is find you call "Nix". You know where you're going, and you'll fly over immediately. You get to relax with him outside and sometimes go for a flight yourself, with Kyle watching or joining you. It gives you a chance to brush up on your hunting skills. Mice and rats weren't uncommon to find. Spirit comes out with you guys as well, laying back and staring up at you while you fly over head.

Another life another cycle. It can feel tedious, and one day you'll probably end up doing something else. For now you have good people, and safe space. It took time to find this, to build it. You weren't about to walk away from it. If only it could have been that easy.

You had gone with the team to an outpost, a temporary set up for a mission. You still weren't shifting, not that you couldn't but it wasn't an ideal form. If you did shift to human it would be very young and very vulnerable. You didn't want to reset before you had to, and a kid was an easy target. A juvenile phoenix? That would require more stopping power.

"Wheels up at 0500 tomorrow. Prep your gear, eat, rest up, and we move out." The captain ordered. You made a chirping sound to get his attention once the team dispersed. Price offered his arm for you, giving you a chance to fly over and land on him. You inch up to his good shoulder nuzzle the back of his ear befoire looking at him expectantly. The Captain recognized that look. You were very expressive for a bird.

"Nix you'll be staying behind." He told you. You squawked in protest, your feathers puffing. The captain sighed. "Nix, you'll provide overwatch with Gaz."

You wanted to do more, but without a human form, you had some limitations. At least as overwatch you could still do some work as a medic. Price got to work prepping his gear with you close by, either perched somewhere or on his shoulder. If you noticed someone looking for something, you brought it to them. You noticed Simon was tense and you already knew why. The location of the mission had some heavy memories for him. Hell even Price wasn't sure about coming. You noticed the scope to his rifle was missing as he was assembling the weapon. It was under the bench. You flew over to him, your bright colours catching his eye. Simon watched as you retrieved the missing piece and flapped up, onto the bench. The scope was in your talons as you out a soft chirp. Simon took the scope and you nudged his leg. Your tears could heal a lot, but emotional and mental wounds? Not so much.

"Thanks Nix. Stay safe yeah?" He told you. You stay safe? You were more worried about him.

Downside of being a phoenix - well you already know the downsides - everyone wants a phoenix. Hybrid trafficking is a thing as well, with some sick tickets enjoying the idea of having hybrids for pets. A phoenix has extra benefits, with healing tears. There has been entire debates and conferences on phoenix tears and whether it should be allowed to be bought and sold in pharmaceuticals. As for your feathers that's a whole other issue and has long since been deemed illegal to traffick real ones. Not that poachers would care.

The mission had been going fine, you were keeping an eye out for wounded human soldiers from above. It was like watching a maze being solved by multiple lines, and just as chaotic. Kyle had been called to the ground to assist a team, leaving you to take care of another wounded soldier. As soon as you landed next to him, you were grabbed. You didn't have an ear piece so no one heard your distress. The next thing you know, you're uncermoniously stuffed in a bag, and dragged off.

When you awoke you were in a bird cage which you would never stop finding humiliating. This wasn't the furst time either, but you were more irritated by the fact that it had happened when you were trying to help someone. That being said you know better than to thrash against your cage, knowing they would try to restrain you further to preserve your feathers. To make matters worse you recognized the voice of the person who had caught you.

Valeria stood there staring at you. You tilted your head at her, remaining calm and avoiding too focused of a gaze. Gorgon hybrids were familiar enough to you. You could avoid mind control well enough, including hers. The question was if she recognized you as well. You were younger than when she previously saw you, and it was at a distance.

"Did you check for a tag?" She asked. The two men who'd caught you shared a look, and she sighed face palming. You weren't sure whether to pity them or laugh at them for such a rookie mistake. You did have a tag on you, Price had insisted on it. The way she went off on the two of them, holy crap. The fact she didn't turn them to stone right then and there was surprising.

"Out. I'll deal with you later." She hissed at them. That wasn't even a pun. Her attention was back on you, and you puffed up your feathers. The way she was staring at you was... kind of odd. If anything she seemed to be admiring you. I mean what was there to be disgusted by? You couldn't help but detect something else behind her eyes. The snakes didn't seem bothered by you.

"You could give me so much." Valeria commented. Fuck, not what you ever wanted to hear in this situation. You squawked in warning at her, almost challenging her to try something. She just smirked. "If only Graves were here, I might just set you on him. Maybe you could get him to shift gears."

She sighed seeing you bristle. "But you're with that pack of misfits... hmph... I'll take advantage of what time I have before they come to collect you."

As soon as you saw a few figures approaching with gloves, you started to thrash. Not again. You wouldn't let this happen again.

"Nix... Nix can you hear me?"

You were a pitiful sight. A number of feathers had been plcked from you, and your eyes were dry and sore.

"Can you hear me... try to move if you can..."

That voice. Spirit. You heard a couple more but they were further away. You tried to force your eyes open, but all you felt was still air on them. There was a crack of light but not enough to make out anything.

"Hunter.... he needs help!"

"Shit... come on Nix don't make me do this the easy way... really hate doing that... stay with us."

Tired... you were just tired and sore. You can feel gloves again, and you try to scratch back with your talons.

"Hold him down..."

"Yep." You felt leather holding your legs.

"Gently."

"I'm trying."

Something is laid next to you, you feel the edge brush against you. very gently you're awkwardly placed into something soft. You thrash at first, your mind still alert, but the voices assure you everything will be okay. It was all going to be okay... sleep... you wanted... sleep...

Hunter wasted no time getting you back to the med bay, getting you fixed up. They hadn't hesitated to break some things, and extracting your tears was done with little care for your well being. You felt something cover your head and you relaxed, realizing it was over.

Sleep returned to you while Hunter did their best to fix you up. As always, a remarkable job was done. You were placed in Spirit's room in a warm nest made of blankets and a hoodie. Recovery would be slow but you didn't need a reset. Not this time. You didn't want one either. When you woke back up you heard the team talking.

"His wings were broken, his eyes are dry and primary feathers were removed..." Kyle said, repeating the information Hunter had given them.

"Literal no fly list." Spirit commented.

"Having his eyes bandaged for now is the safest, so he'll need extra assistance around base." Hunter mentioned. "If he chooses to stay on base during the recovery period."

"I hate to mention it, but if Nix were to reset...

"No." Hunter said immediately. "I'm not about to do a reset."

"Could... someone else do it?" Spirit asked, her tone hesitant.

"I'm the only one with the training to do it, if anyone else does it on the team, it could be considered... no." Hunter trailed off before putting their foot down. Hippocratic oaths didn't cover phoenixes, and Hunter was strongly against being the reason you reset.

"Nix will still recover." Simon spoke up. "Just extra time."

"That settles it." Price said, before anybody could object. Not that anyone would. You fell back asleep hearing that.

The next time you awoke, you felt large hands take hold of you. You stayed calm, feeling yourself pressed to a warm chest. You were carried out of the bedroom and into a more communal space. The bandages remained over your eyes. You knew it would be while until you could see properly again.

"Hunter wants to give you some eye drops." You heard Price say softly. You let out a soft cooing sound, showing your appreciation. The team had to put in extra effort to help you recover, and they were choosing to do so. You heard Price and Hunter talking quietly, with Spirit asking if she could help.

"Keep your eyes shut, I'll tell you when to open them." Spirit said while Hunter instructed her on how to apply the eye drops. When the bandage was removed, you couldn't register much light. Hunter was doing this to protect your eyes. Gentle, latex fingers took off your bandages. Spirit asked you to open one eye and the drops were applied. It was a welcome relief until you could produce more natural tears. The other eye was treated and a new bandage was applied. This would take some time before you could see again.

Once Spirit said you were finished, Price took you to get fed, letting you locate the food yourself. You heard Kyle come into the room. You replied to his entrance with a friendly chirp. After you filled up on spices and fruit extracts Price picked you back up.

Price laid back and placed you on his chest where his heat was the strongest. The warmth was a great comfort, and you nestled in. You told yourself, when you could properly shift to a human state, you would thank him, and apologize for being so reckless. In maybe a week or so you would be around Spirit's age, and by the end of the month you would be an adult. By that point you should have your feathers back, and be able to see properly.

For now, you rested against the captains warm chest, trying to rest again. Those sickos had left their mark though. It wasn't long before you started to fidget and needed to be woken up again. Kyle woke you, taking you off Price's hands so he could get to work on his reports. You let out a startled tweet, your feathers puffing again.

"I got ya Nix. You're safe here." Kyle assured you. If only could see it for yourself.

Your blindfold stayed on until you could shift to an adult. It had come with some difficulties, and you shifted to human a few times before if only to make navigation a little easier. Spirit spent plenty of time with you, helping you walk around. Hunter insisted on a human state to get better adjusted to walking around with assistance.

Despite Hunter's intentions, König would pick you up and take you to whereever you need to go. You weren't much heavier than Spirit anyways. Horangi's antics against you stopped as soon as he learned what had happened. You didn't know at the time, but if he overheard someone making comments about your vision, he made the room foggy with his clouds and caused them to stumble around. The cadejos are great seeing eye dogs, and Rudy showed you how they can guide you around. May have led to you bumping into a wall or two, from the cadejos passing through them. Alejandro worked with Hunter and Price to find tasks you could do on base with your young age and impairment. You found you could still navigate the medbay with little issue, but sharp items were kept out of reach.

The biggest issue was your nightmares. More than once you would wake up to complete darkness and cold sweat. You didn't cry out, not wanting to bother anyone else. Except Spirit doesn't work that way, nor does Ghost. Ghost on more than one occasion has walked in on you, checking to see how you're doing. Spirit could hear your small noises of distress as well.

One night, Spirit knocked on your door. You allowed her entry from your bed, and she offered to take you for a walk or get a snack. Each time you accepted her invitation. Spirit didn't pry or bother you with questions. You got the impression she'd been through this before, or something similar. After half an hour or so you were led back to your room and could sleep the rest of the night.

Then came a night where Ghost came to your room. He announced himself calmly, and you were helped out of bed. The bandages would be coming off the next day. You were relieved to finally see again. The nightmares didn't subside though. Ghost made sure you had tea and something to eat before he decided to lay it all down.

"They did a number on you." Ghost stated.

"Yep." You said calmly.

"Sick fuckers." Ghost commented. "You made it out alive."

"I got myself caught, and put myself in that situation." You said.

"You did." Ghost agreed. Great talk Ghost, very inspiring.

"Should've stayed behind. I'm living with my mistakes." You reminded him.

"Same." Ghost said sipping his own mug. You turned towards his voice. "If all you do is beat yourself up about your mistakes, you're just gonna turn purple. You've got scars, we all do. That's what happens when you make choices."

"I know." You said. You'd been around for a long while. This isn't the first time you'd dealt with something like that.

"I'd fucking hope so, you're older than me." Simon pointed out. "But if you know, then you know when to fucking say something."

"I do. Once the bandages come off, I'll be attending therapy. Not sure if they can help but it's worth trying." You told Ghost. Ghost looked at you while you finished your midnight tea.

"Good." He said.

You sat on the bed, a full adult. Spirit instructed you to shield your eyes with your hand while the cotton pads were removed from each side.

"Okay... open slowly." Spirit said. You did, wincing a bit. "Well?"

You stared at your hand. "Five right?"

Spirit's face lit up as she confirmed it. Finally you could get back to work again. Of course Hunter wouldn't let you. Instead it was a mental health day, and it was doctor's orders so no getting out of it. The team left you alone and you returned to your room, sitting on your bed. You know what comes next, and you know it could mean you leaving the base and the team. It was important though.

You dialed the number you found online. A receptionist answered. "Hello, how can I help you today?"

"Hi, I'd like to set up a consultation with a therapist."

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[evansbby]

No I totally get you! It really really didn’t feel right to me as a Muslim too! It was borderline uncomfortable which is why I’ve only seen scenes of it. //

Girl this is what I’ve been saying for so long!! They portray muslims as these terrorists and barbaric people. And with muslim countries, it’s always portrayed as a “low income” country, or as poor individuals who are homeless?? Like wtf? I honestly hate it when movies do that and it instantly makes me hate it. And what I also see in some movies is that the man always has like an underaged wife or something💀 or when the woman is ALWAYS ‘oppressed’ and she takes off her hijab. Don’t even get me started on how badly they represent us. A quick google search shows how a muslim prays, yet they still mess it up💀

It just shows how the west sees us and it honestly saddens me that that’s how they see us since we’re nothing like that. If they honestly just took the time and effort to idk visit a mosque and talk to the people there, they could see that it’s a peaceful religion. It can be one person who goes on and does something bad and they instantly blame the ‘muslim community’.

Like sometimes I’m so scared to walk past certain places since I wear a hijab and a abaya. I get so many weird looks especially from elderly white people😭 I’m already scared walking alone in London and then I’m reminded of the fact that I wear a hijab and abaya. Because people WILL hate us for no reason, I seriously knew someone who hates muslims, why? because they’re barbaric people who are trying to “take over the world”. ??? I don’t even know what that means tbh😭 I mean I know a lot of kids who get it passed down from their parents and probably half of their opinions are also from them.

Oh my GODDD I literally agree with everything you’re saying!!!

I am Muslim but I don’t wear hijab so I didn’t quite realise how much they HATE us… like when I lived in Pakistan I had NO CLUE the west hated us so much and thought we were some backwards people when really we’re not at all!

I know it must be 10000x harder as a hijabi Muslim, it’s like they already just see you as oppressed bc that’s what is shown to them on TV. It’s just so unfair and dumb and Hollywood KEEPS making more content like this…

I actually wrote an essay about this in my second year of university, wherein the west measures how “progressive” and “modern” a Middle Eastern or Muslim woman is based on whether she’s wearing a hijab and abaya or not. And i analysed this magazine cover, I think it was from Time magazine or something like from 2009 issue, where it was talking about how Middle Eastern women are so educated now and the cover literally showed a woman in Niqab as the “before” and a woman in a blazer and skirt with a briefcase as the “after” LIKE WHAT???????

No wonder everyone in the west thinks Muslims are backwards and barbaric and bad, it’s what their media and culture teaches them.

[thatdiabolicalfeminist]

I really don't think it's true that abusers always know they're abusive or that if you're worried you're being abusive, that automatically means you're not.

There are patterns of harm we can fall into without really realizing what's going on. We live in an abuse culture that justifies and even celebrates certain kinds of abuse and makes them seem normal.

Maybe when you're trying to protect yourself from harm you set your boundaries so far out from your own autonomy zone that you're infringing on someone else's. Maybe you think you're being fair because you aren't thinking about what it's like for the other person, you're too focused on staying/getting in your own comfort zone.

Maybe you're so used to dysfunctional interactions that every conversation is a power struggle, and you don't even realize that when you're "winning" all the time you're grinding someone else down—you're too busy being relieved that you're not "losing" all the time anymore like you did in the past with someone else.

Maybe you think you're being "funny" and it's "banter" to constantly tear down someone in your life. Maybe you assume they're having fun with it too and that this is how you act friendly towards someone.

Maybe you believe lies about what rape is or what abuse is. Maybe you grew up being told men always want sex and you don't even realize when you're pressuring him into it that he genuinely doesn't want it and it's not a game. Maybe you believed the lies that women say no to seem modest but if she "gives in" that's how you know for sure she wants it. Maybe you thought physical arousal was the same as consent.

Maybe you thought being mean when you're in a bad mood wasn't abuse as long as you don't hit. Maybe you grew up in an environment where any conflict meant you had to hurt the other person as much as possible emotionally in order to "win".

Maybe you're a parent who learned that spanking or scaring your kids is how you keep them in line, which seems necessary to protect them. Maybe you don't realize how cutting some of the things you say are, or how thoughtless or unkind you're being. Maybe you never learned gentleness before you had kids, or don't understand what's age appropriate.

When you're an abuser or a rapist who didn't realize at the time how much harm you were doing, it can cause serious cognitive dissonance to realize the impact of your actions. It's easy to get defensive and decide that since you don't think of yourself that way, there's no way you could possibly be an abuser or a rapist.

It's easy to say that if you don't want to be an abuser, you're not. But it's not always true.

It is absolutely vital that everyone learns how to interact in safe and respectful ways. We're all responsible for figuring out how to not harm other people.

Believing that it's impossible you're harming other people can make you MORE likely to harm them, because you're not checking yourself to make sure that you're not.

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Based off of this post where we all collectively lost our minds. You guys gotta stop distracting me I'm trying to finish editing the Sicarius bully ch2 lol

Relationships: Issak (Night Lord OC)/Fem!Reader (only because the word she is used twice)

Warnings: Blood, Tattoos, Kind of slavery??, loss of bodily autonomy, Night Lords content

The tattoo no longer aches, thankfully.

When it had been done your shoulderblades ached down muscle deep, from your body tensing and the vibration of needle after needle after needle. But now the skin is entirely healed, and it can be touched without pain.

Isaak pushes the fabric covering your new tattoo away, revealing it to him. It also reveals a wealth of bruises, marring your shoulders and arms. You Wrap your arms around your chest, but he's too interested in your back to care about the fact that your robes have fallen to your waist.

"And who did all this?"

He says, referring to your wounds. You watch and feel his scarred, pale hands trail along your shoulderblades.

You had known something was wrong when the armouring room was cast in a veil of silence, and you'd looked around with wide eyes.

The sound of the door's lock had triggered a most primal sense of fight or flight the moment it went off, and your heart slammed against your chest like it was trying to free itself. But by the time you even managed to move your feet you saw that three Night Lords were already inside with you, prowling like beasts having just found new prey.

One came closer and grabbed you tight, your clothing sliding off your shoulder just enough to reveal the very top of the left wing of your tattoo. He yanked you closer, ignoring your yelp of pain as he threatened to dislocate your arm. The other two lingered, and had watched while letting the one grabbing you make the first move.

"What's this?"

He says, shortly before he ripped the fabric and revealed more of your tattoo. He leaned in closer, seeing the intricate wings spawning from a fanged skull. The other two Night Lords looked to the one grabbing you, as he lost his grin. He pushed you away, snarling and letting out a puff of air from his scarred lips.

"...Fuck, she's marked. And I know who she belongs to."

You could feel the pain of growing bruises on your skin, holding your arms close to your chest as you watched them.

The three of them could smell the Night Lord blood embedded, mixed in the ink of your tattoo, and decided the fight wasn't worth it. You watched the three of them wander off in search of another serf, unclaimed, and you hope for the sake of the others on board they come up empty. Though you doubted they would.

As despite the fear of attaching yourself to a Night Lord, as mercurial and twisted as they may be, it grants a safety aboard the ship that many are desperate for.

You had begged Issak for it, with tears in your eyes.

You have done work for him dutifully for months but you could only evade becoming victim to another Night Lord in search of a toy to play with for so long. To be marked and claimed would be the safest you could be aboard the ship.

"I know that I step out of line to beg an astartes, but I promise to do whatever you ask of me without fail. Just please, I beg you save me from them..."

Issak had no personal serfs, hence why you had thought it a fruitless effort to beg him to mix his blood with ink. But you could think of no others that you could ask, not ones that were as merciful as Issak has been to you.

But he did, and you thanked him profusely for the safety it gave you. He always gleamed whenever you said it.

"I don't know who they were," You said, replying to his question. "There were three, they cornered me in the armouring room. They were scared off when they saw the tattoo." He hums, feeling you shake under his grip.

"If I didn't have it, I... Thank you,"

You don't want to imagine what would've happened had the three of them saw you were an available, unowned serf. One that no one would know disappeared. Issak laughs at you, his chest rumbling against your shoulders.

"You're shaking like a little animal. You'll be fine; They know that if they take you, I'll rip them apart."

You nod, and nod again and again, silently reassuring yourself and thanking him. You've had so many close calls, but now you have a place to retreat.

But even if you have a rabbit hole to hide in, it came at a cost. His blood runs through the ink of your tattoo, and you'll never be rid of him. You are safer, but it came at the cost of your dignity and your freedom. What little you had. Whatever he asks of you is now your duty to give to him, no matter what. That was the cost of your tattoo.

Issak picks you up, roughly carrying you in his arms.

"If you tell me what they looked like, I can bring you a trophy. Would that make you quit the crying?"

You look at him in shock, rubbing your eyes; You know Night Lords will look for any excuse to start a fight, but his casual gusto to kill a fellow of his legion is surprising. He sighs.

"Fine. You baselines are always so difficult."

He throws you onto his cot, your robes halfway off your shoulders revealing your collarbone, and you watch the scarred visage of a Night Lord consume your entire vision.

[datesinredink]

Ranking the yandere rottmnt boys by how likely they are to kidnap their darling

Just a little crumb to keep myself from losing my mind while staring at google docs this late at night. Sorry if this is super bad, it's way later at night than I'm used to staying up and election night stressed me the hell out.

Donnie.

I have absolutely no doubts that he's going to at least try very very hard to kidnap you. And honestly, I doubt it would be too hard. He's a highly trained, mystic wielding, tech inventing, mutant ninja turtle. And on top of that, he's very fond of planning absolutely everything. And to finish it all off, I think it would be once in a blue moon that he actually treats his darling as an equal. He already thinks he's better than almost everyone, and when he gets obsessed, he has to make himself feel better about it somehow, so he decides to cope by thinking you need him instead of it being the other way around. As a result, he treats you a bit like a very glorified songbird, and songbirds.. well, aren't they usually put in cages anyway? You won't even care after a week or two of adjustment! (He will get upset if you aren't content with being kidnapped by then, by the way.)

2. Raph

The only reason Raph is behind Donnie on this list is because I think he would take longer to justify it to himself. He thinks you're fragile, that you need to be protected from the harsh world! I mean, he barely trusts his youngest brother, who is also a highly trained ninja, to do a simple mission on his own. How do you think he'll treat you after the obsession sets in properly? Not really as an equal, I'll tell you that. He's much nicer to you than Donnie would be, but he still doesn't respect you enough to let you handle yourself, even if that's not how he sees his behavior. At the same time though... isn't he supposed to be a hero? Do heroes kidnap their darlings? Or would this make him the dragon... In the end though, he'll decide that he's fine with being the dragon so long as he knows that the rest of the world won't be able to run their metaphorical (or maybe literal, depending on how unpopular you are in the area) pitchforks right through your heart.

3. Mikey

Mikey wouldn't just.. outright kidnap his darling, I think. I think it would start with a fun sleepover at the lair! Then he insists you stay just one more day! You're having so much fun, after all! Don't you wanna hang out with your best friend for a while longer? You agree, of course- him and his brothers have been nothing but nice to you ever since you met them, and their company is always a delight, so it's worth a shot, isn't it? Then suddenly, the weekend is over, and school's ready to chew you up again, so you do leave. Then it's finally the weekend again! You've heard of a fun game from your school friends, so you plan on trying it when you get home this afternoon- it's friday, after all- when you get a text from Mikey in the group chat with his brothers. He wants you to come over again- and, of course, you say "sure". Not like you can't just play the game on sunday, or when you go home saturday. The sleepover flies by, but you're a bit weary by the time you're pretty sure you're supposed to go home- but here's Mikey, and he's so sure that you promised you'd stay at the lair until sunday again! So, you give in. There's always next weekend, right...? I think you get the pattern, but eventually, he'll be keeping you at the lair 24/7, and you'll be rubbing at your weary eyes wondering how you got into this mess. Sometimes you can even see his brothers shoot you worried looks.

4. Leo

Leo would only kidnap his darling as a last resort, and I think it's because of two reasons. One, he's the brother who sees you closest to being an equal (Donnie and Raph constantly go against your personal autonomy and Mikey puts you on an extremely restricting pedestal), though to be fair, that's not a high bar to pass- and two he much prefers to have some sort of interesting conflict to be present because he finds it entertaining. His life is a weird, morally incorrect soap opera at this point, and he's the number one viewer. Kidnapping would only really happen with him if he thought you were either seriously leaving him (moving or getting into a serious relationship with someone else) or if the circumstances around him got too stressful and he needed something to cling to for any semblance of support outside his brothers (who, at that point, would probably also be super stressed). Think post movie, when the city is still recovering. Man, he was probably freaking out thinking that you might've died to the kraang.

[fatphobiabusters]

so i have a question, recently my doctor has recommended i lose weight for some health reasons, if i choose to go with that and lose weight willingly, does that make me fatphobic?

I can't tell you what to do with your body. Those decisions are yours. Life is complicated and nuanced, and so is oppression. If a trans person willingly loses weight because that's the only way the bigoted medical system will allow them to have top surgery, does that make them fatphobic?

Ultimately, what matters to me most is ending fat people's systemic oppression. What an individual person decides to do with their body, I don't really have the energy to care about. All of my mental energy is going towards more important matters that I do have a say in, like ending the wage gap that fat people endure and supporting fat positive legislation.

So whether or not the decision you make is fatphobic, you have bodily autonomy. Now if you're doing this because you believe weight equals health, well, "weight equals health" is fatphobic rhetoric. If you decide to lose weight because you want to feel superior to fat people, yeah, I'd say that's probably fatphobic. But my lack of mental energy to dictate what someone should do with their body, plus how nuanced and unique every situation is, makes me want to answer this ask with a shrug ¯\_( ￣o￣ )_/¯

You do what you want to do. If someone had a terminal illness and was told they'd magically survive by losing weight, I don't think I could blame them for trying when they're in such a desperate situation. I think the more important question to ask yourself is "Will this actually improve my health? Or will this harm me?"

Some other good questions to ask yourself are:

"How permanent would this weight loss actually be?"

"Is my doctor telling me to lose weight as their only means of treatment for me? Did they even examine me? What quality of healthcare am I receiving?"

"Is it specifically weight loss that helps this condition? Or is it certain behaviors that help and happen to sometimes include weight loss as a side effect?"

"Is weight gain what caused this condition? Is the answer to the previous question scientifically proven, or is it correlation? Is weight gain actually a symptom?"

"What scientific research is my doctor using to justify their recommendation that I focus on weight loss? How long was the study conducted for? Are there conflicts of interest? Does this study contain validity errors?"

I hope these questions will help you with the decision-making process. Good luck

-Mod Worthy

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 8: late

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | m.list

chapter synopsis:

' “Kugisaki Nobara. Be honoured, boys,” she says, stance confident, “I’m your group’s girl.”

She’s so cool. '

---

You meet the girl of steel, though you've yet to get closer to her. Luckily, you have friends around the corner like Yuuji— and Megumi, too, but it's a little different with him.

word count: ~7k; tws: none for now :)!!

short a/n: hi i’m sorry i was away for so long!! life got a little busy and this chapter took a while to write. I will preface it by saying that this one is quite boring, though, but the chapters to look forward to a bit more are the two next ones!! lots will happen there :). thank you for your patience and i’m so sorry again!

25-6-2018 

By the time you’re back in Jujutsu High’s campus, night time has already shed its shadow against the world, black over Tokyo's fulgid skyscrapers like a veil, the sky devoid of any stars. Tokyo is a metropolis of glittery, coruscant lights that litter the land, with parks and crepe shops and cafes galore. And oh, how you love it every time you come back, from its 90s movie mood to its futuristic innovations. 

Dr Ieiri really had planned everything, as if she’d always expected you to be here: she’d got you a room near her office, even helped to clean some of it up, and promised you that you’d still be merely a room away from the one other female student currently in the school. Once the last first year— a girl— arrived, she’d be staying right next to you. 

“So? How long do you think you’ll be staying?” Dr Ieiri asks, “I know you’re planning on just giving someone something, but you’re going to be here for much longer, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Alright, but I’ll give you a heads up first. Staying here and operating as an actual sorcerer here, or a doctor for sorcerers like me or your father— it’s a far cry from the last time you were there. I won’t force you to help me when I need it, but you’re still going to be demanded of at almost all times, and I know you’d be the type of person to try to save people as much as you can. You have to be ready for that— the strain and all.” 

So she knew what you wanted better than you did. “I am.” You’ll ask that of your father later, to tell Sugisawa Third that you’re transferring to a religious school in Tokyo. They knew too little of you to think of whether you were religious or not anyway. 

“I’ll help you so you can still take things easy, okay?” 

“...okay. Thank you, doctor.” 

26-6-2018 

Dr Ieiri smokes less than you thought. Really, the night that you first met her was the first time she’d smoked again in five years, according to her. She attributed it to nostalgia and reminiscing on old memories before asking you to just go to bed— it was almost two in the morning. But you thought it made sense that the ones who were made to heal were the ones who mourned what was unhealed the most; you weren’t the only one stuck playing long-gone memories like a panoramic film on loop, a permanent backdrop in your mind. 

“You need to get a good night’s rest,” she’d said, but now you’re walking down the desolate hallways again. It’s fine— if there’s one thing about actually going against your parents for the first time instead of solely refuting them verbally in heated, mangled arguments, it’s that it’s insanely liberating. Before this, you’d have never even considered it an option, yet now it suddenly exists— that autonomy; suddenly, there isn’t a need to follow whatever order you’ve been given. And yes, you do respect Dr Ieiri and probably everyone else in your life, but you can choose not to abide by what they tell you just because you don’t want to— you decide it. No justifications, no reasons or polemics. Just pure responsibility and autonomy of yourself. You can’t fathom now, why you’d been scared of it before, or whether you’d even realised you were. It still feels unfamiliar, like a thrill, like adrenaline from treading on a tightrope above pits of deep, all-encompassing water, but in a week or so you’re going to have become used to it. 

From your room, if you walked all the way to the end of the hallway, you’d see the first year boys’ dorms. You don’t take the letter with you— that’s a bridge to either burn or cross another time, when you’re not right about to sleep. 

Careful to make as little sound as possible, you knock the door, hoping he’s awake. 

You hear his groggy steps as he seems to trudge himself along, before the door opens with a creaky whine. “—it’s one in the morning,” he frowns, “What do you want—” 

“Hi, Megumi.” 

He closes the door. You wait outside for a moment. 

Megumi opens the door again. 

“...I should’ve told you I was here, actually,” you say. 

“It’s one in the morning,” he goes, “Why aren’t…” he blinks his eyes awake a little, groaning as he rubs his temples, “Why aren’t you asleep? —no, why are you even here, really…” 

You’re going to regret your replies come morning, probably; they’ll sound stupid by then. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but that doesn’t really bother you. “I’m sorry. It’s just, um, I actually wanted to give you something, I mean— I’ll give it to you tomorrow or one of these days, but I was just bored. I just got here, and I’m just going to help Dr Ieiri with some things, um. …sorry, did I wake you? You should rest, actually, it helps your injuries heal faster; sorry for waking you—” 

“—no, not… not really. Don’t worry about that,” he states, “But you should still go to sleep anyway. It’s late.” 

“I can’t sleep.” 

He opens the door and heads inside. An invitation for you to enter, it seems, because he turns and waits for you, the door ajar as you hesitate in front of it. 

You come in. 

His dorm room seems quite similar to the one in his old home, actually, the only difference being how his room now is only just a little larger than the one you were in at fourteen. (You wonder what happened to it, whether Tsumiki still lies on her bed with her phone for a maximum of five minutes at the same time every day.) The two of you sit on the foot of the bed, the lack of light unquestioned. Just like things were two years ago. With the lights outside his window, the bustling city still abuzz with their izakayas and night clubs, your eyes can trace over an outline of his sharp face and spiky hair.  

“How long will you be staying?” 

“Quite a while, I think.” 

“...which is?” 

“Probably more than a week.” 

“Wh— then what about school?” 

“Oh, I kind of, um… threw it away. I don’t know, um. My parents knew I’d be here for a long time. I think I’m just going to transfer here. I’ll leave it all behind that way.” 

He sighs, “I know, but that… that just sounds like a thoughtless decision.” 

“The only part of it that I put thought into was whether I’d run away and live or stay and rot there. So when Dr Ieiri gave me a chance I just took it. And I’ll keep taking what she gives me. If not, then… I’ll be stuck dwelling on it for the rest of my life, I think.” For so long, you’d been trying not to do so; to not take that life-determining chance, to decide to dwell yearningly instead of live, and to appease your parents so at least your mother would have that sliver of assurance, but not anymore. They wouldn’t be in your life forever. 

“So you’re doing this just so you won’t live a life of regret? You’re doing this just for yourself?” 

“It’s the same thing as doing this so that I can help people. It’s two sides of the same coin. Not everyone has what I do.” 

“You sound like Itadori,” he says. The way he does so makes your chest ache slightly and you don’t know why. But nobody is as selfless or as much of an unstoppable force as Yuuji is. Nobody, ever. You turn your eyes away from him even if he can’t see you do so in the dark. 

“But Yuuji takes that to the extreme, I’m…pretty sure. I’m just trying to do what I can because I can.” 

You move your right hand to the side, fiddling with yourself, empty hands trying to find something to do. It bumps into something— something warm and soft. Skin. 

With imaginary chills running along your body, you feel Megumi’s left pinky finger loop itself around yours. He clears his throat, breaking the silence, and you look at him again, at the vague shadow before you. “—that’s…that’s my hand.” 

“Oh. Ah, okay,” you say. It feels right this way— comfortable, nervous, jumbled, calm— 

Your hands move slowly, your fingers trying to steady it like steering around an old, shaky wooden boat with only a paddle, set and ready to embark on a journey. Quivering, you pull your right pinky finger away before your hand is fully enveloped under the hold of his. The heat from his palm on the back of your hand transfers itself right to your face and neck. It’s summer, but it feels cold and hot in the best way possible. “Do… do you want me to let go? Do you want me to stop?” 

“...no. I don’t think so. Do you?” 

“No. I want to stay.” 

“Okay. Me too.” 

He does. 

In the silence you sit up, biting your bottom lip, your nerves like jelly and your brain probably fried if not for the lack of sleep. For a moment you decide to look at him, and you see him swifty turn his head away from you as soon as you do so. 

(—so he’d been looking at you?) 

What wakes you up is the sunrise, an early morning. It’s been embedded into your brain to wake up at seven sharp no matter how late you slept. 

He’s sleeping, his face down, water in his eyelashes— you suppose that’s why he has such crystalline eyes, viridian ones that remind you of summer and life and protection. Jade and grass. Shifting into rather uncomfortable positions so as to not wake him, you pull yourself away. 

His hand still remains snug over yours. 

‘Just friends’ don’t do things like this, you think. But at the same time, ‘just friends’ don’t fight curses or heal those who do so, and ‘just friends’ don’t have a third person they had better relationships with before they broke apart while constantly thinking of each other and decided to at the very least become active figures in each others’ lives again. 

This is scary, moving all too quickly. You’re being grabbed by the waist and thrust into a paraglider; you’re flying in the vast expanse of a boundless, unnavigable sky, manning a paramotor with no previous warning or idea of how to do so. 

But he's very beautiful like this. Hair so black it’s blue, eyelashes woven of silk, a jaw so sharp yet so smooth. The sun greeting the sky as it ejects itself from the inky-hued horizon. You don’t know if there’s a creator, or if there’s a god— you’ve heard of Christianity and many other kinds of faith, though you’d never really dabbled in any of them. But you’d definitely thank someone like that, because scenes like these are proof that someone like that exists, and that that someone is an artist, a masterful artist. So he must have created you and given you an apt appreciation for beauty and art, too, as well as someone like Megumi who was beauty and art. 

‘Just friends’ don’t think like that. 

But you still will anyway. You can allow yourself that. 

He makes a tired little noise as he wakes up, taking in a deep inhale. “...did we really—” 

“Yeah. Um. —wait! I should, um, probably brush my teeth first, my breath probably smells horrible right now, sorry—” 

“Oh. No, it’s fine, I should too—” 

“Yeah, I think I’ll go back to my room too; I don’t want doctor suspecting anything, ah—” 

“Oh— okay,” he releases his hand. 

It’s strange to have things like these— little snippets and moments that remind you to just have fun and be a kid. For years— maybe your whole adolescent experience so far— every day hailed with it a new matter to tend to and worry about, and every day you subconsciously wondered if you were wasting your life away, doing nothing but fantasise of a faraway fancy in which you could use the only potential you had for something. 

But who knew that it was so simple, yet so profound: that the excitement and memories that you yearned for could be obtained just from wanting to do so? That if you wanted to do something, you could just up and do it? 

You like it, though. The paralysing, dizzying feeling of it all, breaths caught in your throat and you can’t say anything without stuttering. The last time you’d felt it, it was Yuuji: you’d had yourself emotionally constipated to the point you choked it all up within you, toned things down and muted the intensity of it all before you even felt it. But it was fun then, and now this is much better. It would seem delusional to hope for anything else. There’s not much of a fantasy for you to look to and put yourself into a deluge of daydreams about, but for once you want to feel something without the implications. That must be what being a teenager is like— you’d seen it time and time again in movies, with cliques and girlfriends and gossip sessions, but you’d never had the luxury to have them yourself and be a girl like that. So this must be what it’s like, at least a semblance of it, with its fun and frivolities and feelings straight from familiar flicks. 

Not quite the time to put a name to it just yet, but it’s fun. At least, you can do it a little longer. It feels like a breath of fresh air after chaining yourself down like an anchor to the seabed. 

You rush to the door. “I’ll see you later? For breakfast,” you try to smile as calmly as you can while you turn back to look at him again. 

Thank goodness Dr Ieiri wakes up at eight whenever there isn't much work for her to tend to. 

You set a mission for yourself: hold Megumi’s hand again at least once in your high school career. 

Now that’s how to live without regrets, be a teenager, and have fun. 

Are you being delusional? 

You don’t know what Fushiguro Megumi is to you now, because ‘friend’ doesn’t sum it up well enough, ‘stranger’ doesn’t do the two of you your deserved justice, classmates isn’t the actual term, and ‘boyfriend’ is way too far from the truth. 

So to have dreams like that; thoughts like that, you think as you brush your teeth, you’re probably making a fool of yourself again. 

There’s something going on here and you don’t know what it is. And even if you’d told yourself you were fine with it, you don’t know how long everything else will be. 

It makes you feel like an idiot. 

But in your head you're filled with thoughts and, for a lack of a better term, hindrances. Did he sleep well? Do friends do that? Or was it just the two of you who’d do that? Was there even any meaning behind it all, any implications on your relationship due to this? This way you’d drive yourself insane before you could even get to breakfast. 

Did he like it, though? Could he have liked it, the sight of you sleeping next to him? Of vulnerability? No, he couldn’t, right? Yet, if he did, then—

You needed to calm down. 

(What about the letter?)

Maybe this was adrenaline: you’d run and take a few bites of breakfast before anyone else did, heading back to your room after you had done so. This way, nobody would see you. (You weren’t calm enough to do this, what made you think, in your sleep-deprived mind, that you’d be mature enough to handle this the next morning?) 

Just as you’re planning strategies to spend the whole day holed up in your room and avoid contact with anyone for it all, there’s a knock on your door. 

“Took so much to talk to the dad alone—” he says, his voice muffled as he speaks to someone else, “I could never stand that old geezer! If he’s like that I’m glad I never had to know how much worse his wife is.” 

It’s Gojo, you can tell. There’s a slight mocking tone in the way he does everything, in the way he says and laughs about the most out-of-pocket shit ever— this is one of those times, because you can almost hear what you think is a feral maniac with the voice of an idol laughing like a loon as he bangs against your door as if he’s trying to kill it. 

“You probably shouldn’t hit it so hard.” Dr Ieiri’s voice. 

You open the door. “Yes?” 

“He’s saying that you should come as backup, and I thought it would help you be put on the spot. It’ll teach you how to operate with clarity as you work,” Dr Ieiri explains. 

“Besides, you won’t even need to help that much. It’s just that this way, you’ll be able to do so if it’s needed while we’re here to guide you. Think of a baby taking its first steps with the help of its parents. If it gets dangerous for them, I’ll step in and you can heal them, but if you can’t heal them enough, we’ll just bring them back to Shoko,” Gojo cheerfully adds. Dr Ieiri nods along with him. 

“Ah… okay.” Your first “actual” lesson as an “apprentice”, then. 

“But first, you should change,” Gojo tells you, handing you a set of clothes, “Here. It’s a spare standard uniform that we keep for special cases. Now you can match with Megumi!” 

Your eyes widen, unsure of whether to laugh nervously or slap him or dash in the opposite direction— shawty a runner, she a track star.  

“I’m so sorry that he’s like this,” Dr Ieiri goes. Joking or not, she’s right. You’re sorry she’s dealt with him for so long, too. 

“...thanks.” 

“Don’t bully my student, Satoru,” Dr Ieiri orders, and you kind of like the sound of your new title. 

You wonder how Gojo got used to teleporting with his cursed technique, but you suppose that it comes with the innate ability to switch from one scene to another so rapidly without feeling at least a little sick— like how the shift from the quiet of the dormitories to the bustle outside of Harajuku has you feeling right now. The brightness of the summer sunlight feels like an intrusion as Gojo sets you down and you open your eyes again. 

“Wow.” 

“Oh, it’s [Name]!” 

Megumi looks away. He’s probably embarrassed to hell and back right now— angry at you, even, maybe. You weren’t sure anymore; you couldn’t even think. You try to let the heat rising up to your face subside without fanning it, steadying yourself beside Gojo, swearing that you’d like to be invisible just this once. 

“Sorry for the wait! I had to take up a call. I brought [Name] over here for backup too to get a grasp of the on-field experience.” Gojo says, waving at them, “Oh! Your uniform made it in time.” 

“Yeah! It fits great! Though I noticed it’s slightly different from Fushiguro’s. Mine has got a hood.”

It does fit him, you think, as you look at Yuuji. It looks better on him than it did when he sent you pictures of it over text. It’s easier to look at him now than Megumi. 

“That’s because the uniforms can be customised upon request.”

“Huh?” Yuuji tilts his head to the side, “But I never put in any requests.” 

“You’re right!” Gojo smiles, “I was the one who put in the custom order.” 

“Huh… oh. Well, cool!” 

“Be careful,” Megumi goes, “Gojo has a habit of doing that kind of stuff. So why are we meeting up here in Harajuku?” 

“Because,” Gojo clarifies, “That’s what she asked for.” 

“Oh!” Yuuji starts as the four of you walk out of the station, “You’re wearing the uniform too, [Name]. Looking good!” 

“Really? Thanks. I mean, I like the skirt. The uniform makes me feel like a fancy princess in a fancy school or something, but the skirt looks a little like it belongs to an elegant office lady.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Megumi follows, “You… look good. In the uniform, I mean.” 

You force out a laugh— “Haha, uh… you too. I mean, everyone would look good with these uniforms, right?” Wow… 

“...I guess so,” Megumi replies, looking in the other direction. 

If you see Gojo stifling his laughter in front of you, no you don’t. 

“We- we should get popcorn. I read online that said you could get really tasty popcorn at one of the shops in Takeshita Street.” 

“Yay, popcorn!” Yuuji exclaims, “I want some!” 

“Sure,” Gojo chuckles, “The shop’s pretty near here anyway. This is your guys’ first time in Harajuku, right, [Name] and Yuuji?” 

“Ah… yeah, and now that I think about it, Yuuji had never been out of Sendai until recently, actually. Right?” 

“Yeah, but I thought you’d have been to Harajuku before.” 

“I mean, I used to live in Tokyo, but I didn’t really move around. I think the most famous place I’ve been to is Shinjuku-Gyoen. Really pretty garden…” 

“Oh… then we should go around Tokyo one of these days!” 

“Yeah,” you smile, “We should! But you could spend a whole week exploring and you still wouldn’t see all of it,” you remark, “It’s a good idea, though.” 

“Fushiguro, wanna come along?” 

“Uh, sure…” Megumi goes, avoiding eye contact with you. You do the same. 

“...hey, is everything okay between the two of you? How come you’re so shy with each other all of a sudden?” 

“H-huh? Ah, no, no, it’s okay.” 

“You said ‘no’ twice. You usually only repeat words like that when you’re really worried about something,” Yuuji says. Curse his affinity for knowing you. 

“But it’s fine, though. Don’t worry.” 

“Uh… yeah. What [Name] said.” 

“You sure?” Yuuji asks again, a bit concerned. “Okay, then.” 

The rest of the walk mostly goes in silence— Yuuji excitedly heads for things to buy, from funky accessories to buckets of snacks. By the time it’s over and all of you are near the 400 yen corner, he’s decked out in all the Tokyo tourist gear, there’s popcorn in his hands, and sunglasses with frames spelling out “ROOK” on his face. (Maybe because he’s a rookie?)

There’s a well-dressed girl in front of you— you wonder if it’s her, but she isn’t wearing the uniform, so it probably isn’t— and a man most likely bald and wearing a wig with his black-and-white business suit. “Well, hello, there!” the man says to her, “Are you on the clock right now?” 

“No, not right now,” she replies. 

“That’s great! You see, I’m looking for potential models. That’s what I do! Would you be interested?” 

He’s scouting for models? 

There’s a sliver of hope in you that he looks at you next and asks you that question. You’re sure it isn’t going to happen, but you suppose you would like being told you were pretty by having a job associated with people who were— there was no chance, though. In Tokyo, the vast metropolis that it is, there are so many with better looks; better faces, prettier hair, nicer bodies— or people who dress better, walk more confidently; people who are adequate in all the ways you aren’t. 

The thought slightly shocks you, in reality— you haven’t thought about how you may not be able to compare with others since the time when you really did realise that Yuuji would never like you (not in that way, at least, and it still hurts to think about it). You never thought you’d feel that way again, and you never thought you would have to be surprised by such thoughts that had been brought in by something akin to envy or jealousy. 

“I’m in a hurry right now,” the girl denies. 

At least she probably knows just how beautiful she is. 

“Hey, you!” another girl calls. This one is just as beautiful— prettier than you, with brown (probably dyed) hair, and pretty brown eyes to match. She’s wearing the same uniform as you save for some titivations at the skirt, and she looks way better in it than you do. “What about me?” she asks, pointing at herself, “For that modelling gig. Hey, I’m asking what you think about me.” 

She’s so confident, it’s so cool… 

“Oh, well uh… I’m in a hurry at the moment,” the man says. Little bitch boy. 

“What the hell?” she asks, holding the man by the collar, “Don’t run, come out and say what you think!” 

“Wait, she’s the one we have to go and talk to? This is real embarrassing,” Yuuji says. 

Megumi mutters under his breath, “Yeah? So are you.” 

“I think she’s an icon,” you express. 

Gojo waves at her, amused, “Hey, we’re over here!” 

The girl slams the locker door shut after she places her backpack— a really tiny, cute pink one— into its pit of shopping bags. Probably to buy pretty clothes. She’d look really good in them. 

“Right, so now we have our three students! Oh— [Name] here isn’t really a student, by the way, I’ll explain later,” Gojo informs the pretty girl, “I’d like you to meet—” 

“Kugisaki Nobara. Be honoured, boys,” she says, stance confident, “I’m your group’s girl.” 

She’s so cool.

Oh, she’s judging them, you think as she stares at the boys. 

“I’m Itadori Yuuji. I’m from Sendai!” 

“Fushiguro Megumi.” 

“Ugh,” she lets out, “This is what I get to work with? Great, just my luck.” 

“She took one look and sighed— that can’t be good,” Yuuji says. 

“Are we going somewhere from here?” Megumi asks. 

“Well, we do have all three—” 

“All four—” Megumi interjects. 

“Ack— no, no, Megumi, I’m not a student, hold on—” You don’t want to be something other than a ghost, not right now, because then you’ll have to deal with whatever you’ve done in the last twenty-four hours that you’d rather beat around the bush and eventually forget about than anything. 

“Okay, we do have all four of you together, and since three of you kids are from the countryside, that means…” he pauses for effect— were you really “from” the countryside, though, if you’d moved around so much that you had no sure idea where your roots were? “...we’re going to Tokyo!” 

You and Megumi watch as Kugisaki and Yuuji chant the city name over and over in unison before arguing over where to head to. But this is Gojo— so there may be a catch somewhere that you just haven’t found yet. 

Megumi looks as annoyed as ever, much like the expression his younger self used to have when his eyebrows crinkled in exasperation from your antics. 

“If you quiet down, I’ll announce our destination,” Gojo begins, and the newly formed pair quiet down, “Roppongi!” 

It’s probably just something like an abandoned building in Roppongi, not Roppongi in all of its glamour itself. 

It’s an abandoned building in Roppongi. 

Gojo explains the situation after Kugisaki and Yuuji’s outrage— “There’s a big cemetery nearby. That, plus an abandoned building, and you’ve got a curse.” 

Kugisaki stops her raging when she finds out that Yuuji is still learning about how curses are formed. “Wait, hold up here. He didn’t even know that yet?” 

“To be honest…” Megumi starts to explain. 

She looks horrified after. 

(If you could, though, if you were anything other than a ghost right now— you’d tell her of how selfless and brave Yuuji is, of how incredible he is that he stopped at nothing to help his friends. You’d tell her that this was what made liking him as easy as breathing air.) 

Before the two of them head into the building, Gojo hands Yuuji a cursed tool— you’d never actually seen one before. You wonder if he’ll be able to wield it well enough: you know he has it covered, but you’re still worried about him anyway. (You always are.) 

And he gives Yuuji a challenge, too, though it’s more like an ultimatum. “Don’t let Sukuna out, okay?” 

Soon the three of you sit down near the building— there’s a block of concrete that you wonder why it was placed there for, and Gojo gestures for Megumi and you to sit down there. 

“Hey, you should be sitting here. I’m fine with standing.” 

“Nah, just take a seat. I’ve got to be on standby anyway.” 

“But you’re the teacher. You should get a better seat. And I’m not injured like Megumi, so I’m fine with standing.” 

“Pft,” he snorts, “You think I actually care about that sort of stuff?” 

You pause. “I… guess not. Thank you. Sorry again.” 

Gojo squats down instead, only his feet on the floor. “See? It’s better this way. Just you and Megumi in your own little world—”

“—please stop.” 

Megumi turns away from you again in embarrassment. 

“Anyway…ah, Kugisaki is really pretty,” you state, “And she seems really strong. I’m still worried, though. What if the curse inside is stronger than anticipated…” 

“...I think I’ll go in too,” Megumi says, “Someone needs to keep an eye on Itadori, right?” 

“You should rest and let your injuries heal, though. I mean, I could help you with that, but I’m supposed to wait for their injuries first—” 

“Well, the one we’re testing this time is Nobara,” Gojo highlights, “That Yuuji… he’s got some screws loose: he’s fearless— these things take the form of terrifying creatures who try to kill him, yet the guy has no hesitation at all. And he doesn’t have the familiarity with curses that you have. We’re talking about a boy who used to live a normal high school life. By now you’ve seen plenty of sorcerers and you’ve seen them give up because they couldn’t conquer their fear or disgust, right?” he explains to Megumi. 

He’s right, though. For someone who had no idea what curses were just a bit more than a week ago, it’s amazing how he can acclimatise himself to such a new life so quickly. When you’d first learned about curses and jujutsu sorcerers, the only reason your life stayed that way was because actually becoming a victim of it seemed like merely a faraway hypothetical, something that couldn’t affect you— up until your father revealed his cursed technique and you exorcised that curse in the store a while after. That was when the ghastly figure of reality that was jujutsu society reared its head and pricked you with its cold finger. As happy as you were after you’d exorcised it, you could feel that empty pit forming in your gut— you did it, thank goodness, but what now? And as your heart raced while you helped that lady, you didn’t address it. 

You supposed the benefit of your position was not having to at all. 

“Hasn’t Kugisaki already dealt with curses before, though?” 

“As we know, curses are born from human minds, so their strength in numbers grows in proportion to the population,” Gojo teaches, “Do you think Nobara understands? Tokyo curses are of a different level than those in the countryside.” 

The curse you handled before would be on the weaker side, then. “In what way?” you ask. 

“Their cunning— monsters that have gained wisdom will force cruel choices upon you where the weight of human life hangs in the balance. [Name], when you fought that curse last time, did it seem to be sentient or self-aware?” 

“...I mean, I guess it seemed like it couldn’t really see the other person there. It was just me and the lady who worked there, so… no.” 

“Well, to put it into perspective, [Name], the curse, had it been one from the city instead, could have done something like take the lady hostage to sort of threaten you and keep itself at large. So this test is to see if Nobara is crazy enough.” 

It wouldn’t matter, though— you were the healer, the medic, the doctor. Whatever level of martial prowess you were supposed to have didn’t concern you. 

“And speaking of tests, [Name]…” Gojo begins, “One of these days, you’ll have to get one too. As someone about to take Shoko’s role, this is your first test as a medic— every mission you get sent to will be a test in that aspect. But as a sorcerer…” 

“Hey. I’m not an actual sorcerer, though, remember? And you should speak with Dr Ieiri first if you want me to expel curses like one and all.” 

“Well, I didn’t speak to Dr Ieiri. I spoke to your dear old dad!” 

“What?” 

“Took a lot of convincing, but—”

“He didn’t tell me anything about this. I’m sorry— I know you just treated me well and gave me a better seat, but why didn’t you think to ask me first? It’s not like I ever really wanted to fight, either. And they were on-board with that. It’s just— why would you change that?” 

Megumi sighs exasperatedly, “Seriously, what is this?” 

“Yeah! What is this, Gojo?” 

“Okay, okay: I’ll share a secret with the two of you, then. You’ve always been tied together, so there’s no use in me telling either of you just to not tell the rest. Keep it between yourselves, okay? Think of it as another part of your shared bond,” Gojo says. 

You purse your lip. (Your mother did that a lot. There is nothing you can do that your parents are not entwined in even now; the roots of them have been planted so deeply into your life, ingrained so deeply into your psyche.) “Look, I just want you to answer me, Gojo. Why did you do it?” Why ruin a consensus that took years of compromise and arguments to settle on? 

“...because you can. I mean, it’s your philosophy to be like that, right? If you have the ability to help someone, do it.” 

“I mean, in essence, yeah, but what kind of point are you trying to make here?” 

“That I think with that mindset you’d make a pretty good teacher. You know,” he sighs with a faux furtiveness, “Your father had that same mindset, with his strength and his intelligence and his kindness, and he was one of the best teachers you could ever have. He wasn’t an actual teacher, but… he was the kind of geezer who people thought were wise and would seek guidance from. A great guy, actually. But to cut to the chase, what I’m saying is that I want you to be a sorcerer who knows how to fight, too, instead of just the doctor in the corner that you believe will be the peak of your potential. I think you can do better.” 

“So? I mean, as bad as it sounds, I don’t want to.” 

“That’s why I just want you to try. I want you to have that test and become an actual student here. Shoko doesn’t mind you not becoming one because she thinks they won’t send you on missions if you’re considered ‘too valuable’ by the higher-ups. But I want you to become my student— I’ll give you time to think about it, but look at this way: you have abilities that exceed what you think of yourself— imagine how it sounded to other sorcerers when they heard of you back then, a thirteen-year-old with a late-blooming cursed technique grasping control of it instantly and defeating a grade two curse, even healing the person left behind. Face it: you’re technically a prodigy. The only thing that separates you from others like you is your humanity that troubles you with a reluctance to believe you can actually do anything.” 

Harsh. “...I’ll think about it. But why spring it up on me now?” 

“Maybe you know too little. O-kay, children, listen carefully. Little [Name]’s father would be a relatively famous sorcerer just because of his partial position as a healer, right? For all your life, you were sheltered and protected by your parents who never wanted you to enter into the jujutsu world. I even spoke to your mother herself, remember? Told her that you’d probably be a window but that you could still use cursed energy. You hadn’t shown signs of a cursed technique yet, but we hadn’t considered that it was because prior to that you never had to use it— the countryside areas you grew up in were practically devoid of any curses that your mother and father wouldn’t have already killed themselves. So, with your father’s quote-en-quote ‘fame’, what makes you think that people wouldn’t have wanted you as a jujutsu sorcerer from the start?” 

Just like that the worlds in your head have had worlds of meanings added to them. 

“So? What do you think, [Name]?” 

You turn to Megumi. When you’re backed out into a corner, your eyes scrambling for a place to put them, you turn to Megumi. 

His hand moves hesitantly to your shoulder, ghosting over it like a teapot over a china cup. “...whatever it is, you’ll do well. Gojo just likes to pull stuff like this.” 

It feels warm. You won’t be in trouble if you don’t run away from this. It’s nice. It’s calm, his steady hand on your shoulder as your heart feels like it’s about to take a nosedive. “...thanks.” 

“Give me some time, Gojo.” 

Yuuji and Kugisaki come back with a little boy in tow. 

“Ah— you’re back!” 

“No injuries, [Name]! We’re all scratch-free! The kid has a bruise on his knee, though.” 

“Oh. Can I see it, please?” you ask the boy, kneeling to his height. 

The boy pulls the left hem of his pants up, revealing a fresh violet blot on his skin. 

“Would you be okay if I touched your knee? I can take the bruise away for you.” 

He nods and soon it’s gone, his skin pristine and new. “Woah,” he goes, “Thank you! Was that magic?” he asks, eyes full of childlike wonder. 

You giggle. “Something like that. Could you keep it a secret?” you make the best welcoming and kid-friendly grin you can as you place your index against your lips. 

“Okay!” he whisper-shouts, smiling wide. 

Kugisaki and Yuuji rest by the building while Gojo, Megumi and you bring the kid back home. 

“You know, I wanted to say, big sister,” he starts, looking up at you, “You’re really pretty!” 

(So cute!!) “Ah, really? That other girl is really pretty too, though.” 

“You too! You could be like a model on a poster!” he exclaims, “Oh wait— I live over there! Thanks again!” he points to the turning on the left. 

“Haha, thank you,” you reply as Gojo waves at him, “Take care of yourself!” 

“I will! Bye-bye, big sister!” 

“Are you hungry?” you ask Gojo and Megumi. “Ack— I feel lightheaded.”

Megumi turns to you in an instant— “You didn’t eat enough for breakfast?” 

“Guess so,” you reply, “I should be fine, though. I think I just had something on my mind the whole day and I couldn’t feel the hunger or something.” 

He whips his phone out. 

“Oh, there’s a famous tonkatsu restaurant back in Omotesando,” you suggest as he scrolls through restaurant options. “I think Yuuji may want to eat something like steak, though, and I don’t know what Kugisaki likes. Is there anything you want in particular?” 

“I’m fine with anything,” he says, “But it’s Gojo’s money we’re going to be using, so we should probably make the most of it.” 

“Mm… we can eat beef steak in Ginza, I think… ah— Yuuji’s grandfather always called it beefteki. I’m surprised I can still remember.” 

27-6-2018 

“Hi. It’s one in the morning, Megumi,” you greet him as he stands outside your room’s door, “Can’t sleep?” 

“...yeah,” he admits sheepishly, “Sorry about this.” 

He sits down on the bed. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s like we’re going to keep doing this,” you start, “Our special ritual. Something like that. I mean, we help each other in this way, right?” 

Your hand strays upward a little, nervous as it inches toward his shoulder. 

He brings your hand there and places his own hand on top of it. “Yeah,” he replies contentedly, “But I… wanted to ask,” Megumi begins, “What Gojo said. Are you going to become a student?” 

“I don’t know. I mean, looking at how things are going now, I may. It seems like things are leaning more towards me being a full-fledged sorcerer. Haven’t had the time to think about it.” 

He seems to pause for a moment, to reconsider something one last time like a record in his head. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

“I should take you to see Tsumiki first.” 

You nearly gasp. “She wants to see me?” After all this time? “I’m happy, but… wouldn’t she be busy, though?” 

“No… I mean… you really should take a look at her first. Then you’ll see what I’m trying to say. I’m sorry, but I just— I really should have told you sooner.

“Told me what?” you frown. Learning of this feels a bit like restarting and going back to square one somehow. 

“I’m sorry, can we just… do something else for now? Just… please be patient with me a little longer. I’m sorry you have to do that so much.” 

“…okay.” 

You wake up to his figure being illuminated shyly by the light of dawn. In the tiny bubble that the two of you share— of intertwined paths, secrets, lives— and the sensation of waking from a late night, you realise just how much you want to stay there forever. 

This morning, you don’t rush back to your room and hastily go through your routine. All you do for a while, for what feels like it lasts for a century yet lasts for too little time, is look at him, at his steady, quiet breathing as his eyes are shut comfortably tight.

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[heron-breeder]

If you follow any transfem supremacy intlectuals, you’ve certainly seen anonymous asks from subby transfems asking what their place would by in the glorious utopia of our inevitable transfem supremacist future. “Am I allowed to be owned as rape meat with the cissies of if I want to”, “do I need fuck cis girls if I just wanna get topped?”, “is me being subby a detriment to transfem supremacy?” Things like that. These are almost universally met with the leading voices of the movment asruing these slutty subs that of course they can be submissive, even rape meat, if that’s what they want in our future.

And while that’s well and good, I want to be proactive in reaching out to our submissive sisters. If you long for the cuter where dominant trans woman run the world, but you still want to be owned by a superior t dominant trans woman, here are some of the roles you might have in the future, and how they in no way detract from the truth of transfem supremacy.

Favored Toy: You’re inatly suprior to the cissies and fakeboys your Mistress fucks, and that entitles you to special treatment. This could be more time and attention being fucked by your Mistress, more comfterble quarters and clothes, whatever is needed to make sure you’re a happy sub

Jealousy Fuel: While proper Mistresses will certainly be raping indoors into submission, plenary will also be openly addicted to Supiror transfem cock. And that dosn’t mean they don’t still need to be shown their place. And you can help in this by being used in front of the ungrateful cunts until they beg hard enough.

Aftercare: while I’m sure there are transfem subs who would like to be as horribly abused as Cissies, being a transfem still entitles you to safe words, aftercare, and the softer treatment. Certainly, you will be spanked, fucked, and used like the submissive slut you are, but if it becomes too much, or you want soft treatment afterward, you can revive it. And this sets an excelent example to our inferiors. While the rape meat is lying their battered and brain broken, they see that even the quite and submissive transfems are infinitely above them though the special treatment you get.

Gender presentation and bodily autonomy: While a all cissies are indoor, plants of thought-leaders for the movment have talked about their their gender presentation, or even their gender, while be dictated by their transfem owners. Detransing fakeboys with hormoans and planstic surgery, force mascing androgynous non-binary twinks, rounding up cis woman, whatever pleases us. But you, as a submissive trans woman, will be in full control of your body and how you present. You’ll be given HRT, bottom and top surgery, anything you like. And it will all be at your pace, and your discretion, unlike the inferiors, who will have their bodies changed at the behest of their owners.

Trained rape machine: Say you want to have a more active role in enforcing Transfem Supremacy, but you don’t nessisarly want to be making the desitions that a dominant need to. Well, I think that there is still a solution for this. As discussed by noted thought-leader @t-girl-breeder in this post, transfems who want to be useful but don’t have the will to do it themselves can be trained as “attack dogs,” trained mindless rapists to be set on cissies who need to be shown their place, but the near by trans mistress can’t be bothered.

Changing your mind: And most importantly, your relationship with your Mistress will be purely on an at-will basis. If at any point you decide you would prefer to serve a different mistress, take a break, enter a different kind of relationship, or even become a dominant yourself, you are free to do so.

I hope this helped any sunny transfems see that even if you want to be rapemeat yourself in our gtransfem supremacist future, there is a sultry a place for you, and you’re in no way holding back the cause of transfem supremacy by being a submissive slut. I hope this was informative!

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

Y'know, for a series that's themed so heavily around deception, misplaced trust, and things not being as great as they seem, it's so interesting to me how we have a total of three characters who have stories that involve a powerful, wealthy individual manipulating them and causing them or their loved ones harm during times of financial struggle or straight-up poverty XF-Ture Tech greeted the impoverish Jeung family with the offer to pay off all of their expenses, only at the cost of their daughter, Min, becoming the Ultimate Student 12 years down the line. This led Min from ages five to seventeen to work away her entire life to achieve this goal, turning her into the perfect image of an Ultimate that Hope's Peak Academy wanted to see, at the cost of her childhood and her autonomy.

Min: I don't know why that man would sponsor some random child, nor why it would be me of all people. And I never had the time nor space to figure out the answer to that question. Min: Failure was not something I even considered, because if I failed, then there would be no future for me or my family. Min: I had simply accepted for my whole life that I would be the Ultimate Student, and I lived my life accordingly. That's why the Academy chose me.

The Lacroix family was sent into a river of debt by their daughter Rose, and when all hope seemed to be lost, Richard Spurling offered to clear her charges and pay off her fines if she decided to work under him as a painter for the Spurling Foundation. Any semblance of herself in Rose's works has now dissipated, her sense of identity only tied to the contract she signed with an angelic devil.

Rose: Forever working to pay off my mistakes, and never being able to call my art my own... This isn't the life of an artist that I wanted. It's not what anyone would want. Rose: All I do is make paintings on others' beck and call. It's been so long that I don't think I remember how to paint something original anymore. Rose: That spark of vitality is missing from anything I make. Like this painting. And I can't help but feel like I'm missing a part of myself.

Little is known about the details of Xander's story at this time, but we know enough to know that he falls into this category too. The Matthews family lived in a town with an understaffed hospital and a river as their only water source, leaving them unprepared for an incident that would gruesomely wipe them out. Meanwhile, Duke Spurling, a wealthy man in extreme power being a politician, who instead of using his power for good was, from what we can tell, sitting on his dollar bills while the innocents around him lost function in their limbs.

Xander: I read that it was like rotting from the outside in. Xander: Your limbs would stop working before your organs did, and you would lie there and feel yourself die and be unable to do anything about it. Xander: There was only one dinky understaffed hospital for miles, one that could barely handle a minor flu outbreak, much less that 'incident' Xander: I read that it took weeks before they even figured out what to do with all the bodies. They left them where they died. After all, there was no one left to move them. Xander: It was during May, that time of the year there when the temperature quickly grows to be excruciatingly hot. Xander: You know what that does to corpses, right? I'm sure the smell was unbearable--

It's just really interesting to me how this is a theme across all three characters, and I can't help but wonder if this will carry over to some of the other characters as well.

[fatuismooches]

Dw hahahaha I'm still alive just dying over ( why did I chose to study a PHD 😭 ) But im on a break from school so except so a lot more brainrot from me lmao, also sorry if this is jumbly kinda just put my words out there hahaha

I know we always talk about fragile reader during the illness but what about after? Fragile reader was plauged with this illness for hundreds of years so they deffinently adapted. Like typically when walking then would shuffle their feet a lot cause it took less energy so sometime they shuffle their feet and don't even realize. They didnt have the ability to do tasks such a pouring liquids into cups so whenever they're about to pour themselves a glass of water then to do collect themselves because what if their illness comes back? What if there dreaming and they'll suddenly drop everything. All of Zandik's work is reverted. So often times segments will just find reader staring intensely at a simple task. And of course they'll go comfort reader. Whilst they wish they could do it they know how much reader wants their autonomy back after such a restrictive few centuries.

But let not ignore the segments and Prime cause they've picked up a few habits also. They've gotten used to treating reader as fragile as glass so whenever they fall or trip post illness they freak out. It would require some comfort from reader to bring them back to earth and remember that reader is no longer ill. But you KNOW that they're pulling out every healing treatment they've got. They're all evil and sadistic doctors but for you they'll be good. <4

But regarding Zandik himself... Well he was so excited to finally have cured his lover that he completely forgot about the effects you'd suffer after. So when a few segments report of you not being completely free of your curse he's immediately trying to figure out how he can help you. He decides that the best thing to do is to be there for you. It typically is unusual to see the Doctor away from his work but now it's the norm for Il Doctors to be with his lover.

- Jellofish Anon

After being sick for so long, one would think you'd be ecstatic to finally be cured, to be free of the illness that plagued your body and life so much. And well, they were right, but the happiness still came with its anxieties. Change was never an easy thing, even when it was the good type. After dealing with this for so many years, you were bound to still be nervous about doing certain things. To not have the confidence in yourself to carry out the task. You worry that you'll mess up or fail and waste your time trying to do so and just end up making more of a problem for yourself and others. Even though you know that's illogical now, it's hard to get out of a mindset you've been stuck with for so long. Of course, your inner conflict doesn't go unnoticed by your lovers, and each segment would provide their own kind of comfort based on who they are, whether gruffly or soothingly, to give you the courage to take back your life.

You can't exactly blame Dottore and the segments for being overbearing, after all, they've witnessed your weak state for numerous centuries, and they've seen you hit your lowest many times too. They can't help but worry about their darling too. It's endearing at first but you have to hold them and help them realize that was the past you, the new you is someone different thanks to them. You can be strong and safe and independent without them now, even if it sort of makes them crazy knowing the situations you put yourself in now. Still, they observe you very much even when you least expect it.

Of course, the cure is not without its drawbacks - you still have to deal with the lingering effects of your illness sometimes. Which definitely aren't as bad as before, but they still serve to remind you of your old life. But you know that regardless of what the future may bring, you'll always have Dottore by your side to ease whatever pains you have.

(Dottore post-illness would be such a cutie. It's such a rewarding feeling, to see the one he loves no longer burdened and free to pursue what they want just like he does. He would sit and listen to all the stories you have for him each day, all the exciting things you can do now, the days of pain in the past. Of course, the segments would be extremely excited to finally have a worthy assistant - you - but there's only one of you after all. Unfortunately, they have to share, and bear the painful curse of having you to themselves once nearly every two weeks.)

(I've been planning to make this a full fic for like a year...)

[itsmadamehydra]

Doll Face 2 | Fezco Euphoria

part 1 part 2

Pairing: Fezco x Latina!Mouse sister! reader

Summary: Mouse's sister was an excellent girl, a good student even, until life happened and she had to leave every dream behind. A particular friend was left behind too in the process. Years later, they meet again, but they aren't the kids they once used to be.

Warnings: 3k+ words, mouse sister, drug life, language, non-desired-sexual situations, sexual assault, forced sexual labor, exploitation of young girl, abuse, abusive household, vulnerable situations.

A/N: So happy to keep going with this story! Thank you for those who ask or wanted a part 2! Hope you enjoy it! If anyone thinks any other warning should be included please let me know, thank you!

Fuck

No

Shit

Your body went cold. You had stopped moving and just stared at him, eyes locked. He kept an unfazed look, just looking up at you with his drowsy eyes. He wanted to know, he needed to know if you were his doll face. The little girl he had befriended all those years ago.

You regained your autonomy over your body and resumed your movements, praying that no one had heard or gotten suspicious.

“Doll face? You know sweetcheeks, carrot boy?”

Shit

Fuck

You looked up at him with pleading eyes.

Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t.

“Nah, just confused her face.”

“She is a good one, isn't she?" You heard him say again. The redhead nodded slowly.

“Yeh, she is.”

Mouse’s laughter reverb over the place, making you feel the pressure of not stopping. Not looking at him.

“Yeah, she is a sweet one,” he took a sip of beer, “I promise, you can’t even imagine the number of guys that have cum in that same seat, my man…little sweetcheeks here making them cum with just a dance!”

Your jaw clenched, wanting him to stop talking about you like that. It was already an unpleasant enough experience to live as for to relieve it by word. Although the man beneath you seemed to not care at all.

He looked past your face and opened a beer from the many near. Raising his brows, making him seem like he couldn’t believe Mouse’s words.

“Really?” lacing his tone with fake astonishment.

“Yeah! Word is, little sissy here gives the best head around the neighborhood,” he comes near you, slapping one of your ass cheeks.

You had to grip the redhead's shoulders to prevent you from shuddering.

Please stop talking. You kept repeating in your head, with your eyes closed. Desiring to disappear from the embarrassment and just not having to face the look on the man’s face beneath you.

It wasn’t like you liked to do that. You just had to. A job is a job. Those words kept you going and stopped you from falling apart. 

At first, you had managed to keep up with your weekly quotas by just dancing, but when word got around, Mouse decided to higher his commission. Forcing you to look for more ways to make money.

And any time you tried to get a job that didn’t involve this word, your brother was back at you with threats and violence. You had tried so many times before, you ever gave your first blow job and had some bills thrown at your face.

You had felt disgusted with yourself and scrubbed your tongue. After that, you brushed your teeth for eternity. It took you long enough to insert in your head that it was part of your job. That it was just a job.

But word got around. Again. And as always, Mouse found a way to benefit himself. And now he had you dancing for his people and sucking them off. You didn’t even get privacy having to do everything in that same chair.

It was disgusting. It made you cry a lot. And it was something you definitely didn’t want him to know about.

Fez

Your Fezco

Only God knows how hard you prayed for so long for this day. Day, noon, night.

Your imagination had been the only thing that had kept you happy all this time. In the middle of dancing, upstage or private, between jobs, the only thing that kept you going and smiling was thinking about the different scenarios in which you could meet again.

Your favorite one was where you find yourselves at the university. You are walking around, maybe at the start of your first semester there. You are still a little lost and getting used to the installations that it takes you a while to get around.

You had your math class next and were absolutely lost with the indications that the office gave you. So, you asked a group of people sitting at an outside table.

They were friendly, and one of the girls even offered to take you. You thanked them all and left with the girl. And then, she would say something like, “Oh my GOD, you are going to love this class. The teacher assistant is so cute. Everyone loves it just because of him.”

And you wouldn’t believe her, oblivious to what was coming next. But when she left you at the door, and you had chosen your seat, it was going to be his voice that would have made you look up. And there he would have been, being a math teacher assistant. A great one.

Then, you would approach him, he would remember you, of course, and your encounters would increase following that day.

That was your favorite scenario because it just seemed right. It felt right. That was how life should have been for both of you.

But it never occurred, and you were stuck here. Being pulled by your hair by your brother’s hand brings you back to your reality.

The force that he pulled you with made you moan from the pain.

“Yeah, right," he laughed. “She loves it when you pull her like this, just like the slut she is, right little sissy,” he shoveled your head to the side with force and left the room, probably going to look for someone to deal with him.

Any female who would have been forced to have him couldn't help but make you feel bad.

You felt a soft hand go behind your head, taking it softly and caressing your skull. Fez, oh Fez. Still looking at you with those same eyes. And the same look he always had on for you when you were just kids.

He looked around discreetly, and when he was sure no one was around, he grabbed your hips and stopped you from moving.

You suddenly became shy under his sight and smiled nervously.

“Hi,” you muttered, failing to contain your nervousness and focusing your eyes anywhere else than his face.

Yet, he cradled your face softly. Inciting you to rest your cheeks in his hold, making you feel warm, safe, and delicate.

“My pretty doll face,” he couldn’t believe his eyes, “You were here? All this time? How did I never see you?”

“I keep to myself mostly. When not working or with…Mouse,” you doubt a little at the end. You see his eyes harden at the name.

“What’s he of you?”

You clench your jaw, embarrassed at the situation. At first, you were a little doubtful, but you finally told him, “My brother.”

“No brother should be treating his little sister like that,” his eyes soften at your sight. For him, you seemed fragile due to all the abuse and violence surrounding you, and it was wrong. You had always been full of confidence in yourself. You never seemed scared and always smiled at the world. That was you, he remembered, the little girl that had been the focal source of inspiration all this time.

He wanted you to become her again, your true self. Not what these people wanted and were forcing you to be; scared and oppressed, abused.

“Women should be protected, adored. No matter their job choice or anything,” he murmured against your forehead, leaving his lips pressed, trying to comfort you without being too excessive with his touch.

But you wanted a hug, you caved touch from him. After all these years without any glimpse of gentleness, you had forgotten what it felt to be warm.

Slowly, your arms went around his middle, and he secured you between his arms, eyes closed by both parts. Just two people savoring the moment.

“Why have you not you left,”

“I can’t. I’ve tried so many times,” you felt the tears starting to form.

He strokes your hair and kisses your head crown.

"Whenever you pack your things and leave, one day. Find milk," he sighs. It's a convenience store. Ask for me if I'm not in there. Tell them that I sent you.

“Fezco, you don’t have to,”

“Too bad, I want to,” he smiled at you.

“Fezco,” you said softly.

“I want to, doll face. Okay?���

“Okay,” you rested your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Now this has "Whenever you pack your things and depart, one day. Find milk," he sighs. It's a convenience store. Ask for me if I'm not in there. Tell them that I sent you.

Now this has effortlessly turned into your favorite memory.

Sadly, all good things have to end, and this moment too.

“I have to go, little girl,” he murmured against your hair.

“Just…5 minutes more, please?” 

“I wish, but not wanna risk getting someone mad at you,” he said as his arms prepared to let you go, but you snuggled closer into his chest.

“I don’t want to let you go,” you tighten your grip on him.

He laughs softly while exhaling. You are not letting me go, ma." He kisses the crown of your head, saying, "We'll be together again. Where're you working at, pretty girl?"

You press your lips together in a tight line before you let out a sigh, “At the neighborhood’s strip club.”

“Alright, now I know where to find you,”

“We’re not losing contact anymore?”

He exaggerates his hold on you while kissing your crown, saying, "No more, pretty one," which causes you to chuckle. "You won't be free of me, you hear me? I have to give this gorgeous one a lot of visits.

You nod, euphoric by his words. But wasn't enough for him. He wanted to hear you say yes and laugh. For you, let yourself be carefree for a second.

He moves his lips down to your ear and repeats his question with a funny tone, “You hear me, ma? You hear me!?” 

“Yes! Yes, I do!” you laugh, looking up at him, just for him to be already staring back at you with his hooded eyes and a cute smile. He kissed your forehead one last time before getting up with you still in his arms and letting you down in the chair gently.

He strokes your face, taking some strands off and tucking them behind your ears. You smiled at him, and he had never stopped doing so. He walked backward for most of the footpath until he closed that door, and you were back.

Aware of your surroundings, feeling the disgust coming back and curling up on the chair, starting to count to 10, trying to control your breaths.

Nights and days went by, and you had to keep up with your life. Your work and your dancing. But you couldn’t help feeling some sort of hope filling you. You felt motivated for a better future. That there might be a future out there after all.

You felt yourself changing and even started dancing in between your dances. It felt unbelievable how powerful a moment can become, no matter how short.

Your shift had ended, and you were putting away your things in your bag when one of the security guys entered the room. You side-eye him, “You want to head? If you do, the price went up.”

“Your brother’s guy is here. They are waiting for you. Outside.” he gruffed, leaving just as he entered.

You froze. The only time this happens is when your payment is due. And you were not due until the end of the week. You walk through the people until going through the back door and waving goodbye to the early morning shift guys.

You kept your head down, walking silently and with an iron grip over your bag. You recognize the man standing out of the vehicle, one of your brother's buddies.

He opens the door without making a sound, giving each other a nod, closing it after you. You stare at him through the tinted glass. The car was empty beside your brother’s presence beside you.

“I’m not due,” you muttered.

“Well, little sissy. You know what happens to people who earn more than they deserve?” He pulls out a blunt and inhales a long puff before filling the car with smoke. You shook your head.

“Their payment goes up,” he releases smoke. Right to your face, making you hold your breath by reflex.

“I don’t have more money, Mouse.” you try to reason, “Between you and my employer, I barely have any more money left.”

He chuckles breathlessly, "Heard your blowie price went up. Who knows? 'Might be the time you start using your pussy. I know a few who would pay big grand for a taste."

“I’m not doing that,” your hand grips the seat.

“Well, I tried. Now pay, or you’ll be working with a bruised eye.”

“I don’t have any money, Mouse.”

“What about tips?” 

In my locker, safe from any trash like you.

“Boss keeps them,”

He sits still for a few seconds with the blunt between his lips.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” he grabs a fist of your hair, pulling from it, making you look at the car’s ceiling, hurting your neck by the sudden movement.

You moan in pain, and he grabs you in a chokehold, “Careful there, honey. My buddies here might think you like that and wanna try doing it themselves.”

“You wouldn’t”

He yells out a name and yanks down your strapless top with a questioning, "You sure?" Someone unlocks a door. "Miralas. A que no son bonitas? Tocalas, she likes it." Mouse plays with and massages your boobs while encouraging his buddy to do the same. The hands then shift shortly after. (Look at them. Aren't they lovely? Touch them)

The guy starts by playing with your nipples, pinching and twisting them. Your brother pulls your hair, making you moan in pain again.

“You hear that, bro? Told you she likes it,” he laughs.

You feel the tears forming in your eyes. This had never happened before. You had never felt so vulnerable. Feeling unable to move or even react to any slight movement. Your grip is stuck on the leather seat. And your breathing turned erratic.

You notice the guy taking his finger into his mouth and then back at your nipples, wetting them. Your body shakes in fear and disgust. You pray for everything to stop or for you to just black out and not remember anything.

“They feel nice, bossman.”

His hand moves down, rubbing your genitalia, and says, "Let me tell you what, in a few days, this pussy could be all yours." He licks your neck, "Think of it as a present from me, a sneak peek before it goes on sale, huh? What do you think, little sissy?"

You were going to vomit. You could feel it coming. Your body was sweating cold, the ringing in your ears overpowering his words. You felt as if you were out of your body, being able to see everything happening to your body as if you were a viewer.

It was as if your mind and body had separated from one another. Your insides were shrinking by the feeling of their wandering hands.

Please stop.

Jesus Christ, you are my brother.

Please stop.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Help, please, someone. 

God, please listen. Please.

The man had taken over your brother's hand, placing it down on you, palming you, tracing your lips with his middle finger.

The tears started to drop. You hadn’t even noticed until they started laughing loudly about it.

“Mouse, that you, my man?” 

Your eyes move, looking for the voice owner. Locating a shadow hovering over your brother's side, opening the door.

“Carrot boy! What you doing ‘ere?” Fez looked past him, focusing on you and your position. His heart dropped. Having to see you like that was not pleasant. It took every ounce of his willpower to not take you right there and run away and leave everything behind.

He had to take you out of that situation and fast.

“Sweetcheeks here left me desiring for more, came ‘round looking to test if her sucking skills are good as they say,” he faked a smile. “But with that view. I’ll pay anything for a titty fuck, giving me a hard-on,” he chuckles, grabbing his crotch area

Mouse palms his shoulder laughing. “I like this boy! He just understands,” he looks over at the dude over you, “Take your hands off. She’s about to get real busy.”

Mouse grabs you from the back of your neck and throws you at Fez, who immediately cradles your body, trying to give you safety.

“Take her to my crib when you finish with her, money in hand, carrot boy.”

“Don’t be up waiting for ‘er! Gotta make that money worth it. If you know what I mean,” Mouse nods at his words smiley. And looks for something in his pocket, giving it to him.

“Just give her some if she fights. You know how it is.”

“As long as she’s not a spitter,” he takes the bag from him and waves them goodbye. Waiting for them to be out of sight before he could hug you properly.

“Fuck, fuck. Fuck that motherfucker,” he curses against your hair, kissing it between words, “I’ve got to get you out of there, ma.”

You felt something in you click with those words, making you return from the trance you had entered.

You started crying almost immediately, sobbing -hard- a river flowing down your cheeks. You didn’t even care about being half naked in a parking lot; if Fez could feel you up, you just cared about the warmth that hugged you. 

Your hands held on tight to his shirt, taking the fabric in a fist, unable to stay still in that hug. Grabbing him by the shoulders and neck, pulling his cloth. You wanted comfort.

Fezco could feel the tears trespassing his shirt, the buggers coming out onto his shirt. You're sobbing, making him feel tears forming in his own eyes.

He made a promise to himself that night, a vow. He would become your protector and do whatever it took to take you out of there and ensure you never return.

“Just wait a little more, and we’ll be together before you know it,” he kisses your tears, and you nod wanting to believe his words.

@myamamahdi @starzsworldsblog @billyhargrovesprincess @itzlochnessie @ethereallocs <3

[slyandthefamilybook]

they're not dismissed because they live in "the bad country" they're dismissed because any solution they might pose, for the vast majority of them at least, will fundamentally involve preserving the state apparatus of israel, which is an inherently oppressive force. the two state solution is not justice. don't twist this into a call for the murder of the israeli population. that is explicitly not the goal. it is a demand to dismantle the fucking government system of a settler state that has spent 75 years committing genocide. if your leftism was worth anything you would believe that israel should be abolished. if you don't, your allyship is shallow and will only lead to electing people who will still do genocide, but with better pr so you can go back to ignoring it. if you really give a shit, genuinely ask yourself if the solution you have in mind would actually stop the genocide of Palestinian people, or if it would just slow it down a little, and answer the question honestly. if you can't do that, fuck off

HA

I predicted this. I saved this to my drafts 3 days ago

here's that response

there are a lot of people who seem to think that peace would be bad because it would involve Palestinians cooperating with the Israeli government. They believe the government should be spurned at every moment. Any action taken by the Israeli government is inherently one-sided and therefore it's categorically impossible to reach an agreement that's mutually beneficial and respects the dignity and autonomy of Palestinians

I hear this a lot in discussion of the UN Partition Plans. "Oh, so you want victims of violence to just roll over for their oppressors? You can't just steal someone's land and then offer it back to them!" To which my response is always "this is better?". Can you honestly look me in the eye and say that whatever lopsided colonial apartheid agreement you're imagining would've been made in 1948 would've been worse than the situation we have now?

It displays a really limited understanding of how geopolitics works. Countries aren't just a government and a set of borders. A country is also a people and a mechanism through which that people can interact with other peoples. You can't just point at a country and say "they're doing bad things, we should get rid of them". That's how America has functioned for the past 150 years and I thought we all decided that was bad. Dismantling a country doesn't solve your problems, it just creates new ones. "Burn it all down and start over" won't bring back the dead. It won't honor their deaths or make them any more worthwhile

Every time Hamas attacks Israel, Israel gets stronger. The right thrives off of conflict. It's why they don't want to give people free healthcare. When people suffer, it strengthens their positions. Every time Israel is attacked it generates more support for the military, in the people and in the Knesset. The IDF gets more soldiers, more rifles, more tanks. It drives the Overton Window further to the right. The Israeli government starts borrowing more money from the US, starts getting sent more foreign aid, further entrenching their economic dependency. The only reason Netanyahu has stayed in power for so long is because Israel keeps getting attacked. Israel gets hundreds of millions in military aid from the US, a country that has made killing people a science. You're not going to defeat them in open battle. People have been trying for 75 years with no success

I dislike the Israeli state as much as I dislike every state (which is a not-insignificant amount). But I also understand that states are massive webs of economy, policy, international trade, and agreements and treaties. If every member of the Israeli government stepped down tomorrow with no plan, the country would be thrown into chaos and millions would die. You can't say you want to destroy the apparatus of a country that is currently at war, while also claiming you want its citizens to be safe. That's not how that works. You claim that the majority of Israeli leftists want a two-state solution (something I don't believe I've ever said I support), but if that the case you don't have to throw your weight behind those people! There are also leftists who want anarchism, and a no-state solution. There's a vast diversity of thought and pretending that there isn't doesn't help anyone

I notice that in your decrial of people who are actually trying to help, you don't offer an alternative solution. You say you want to dismantle the Israeli state, but how do you plan to do that? I assume from your tone that you're not yourself Israeli, so how do you plan to affect change? You can pressure whoever is the leader of your country to stop sending aid to Israel, but Israel has a domestic economy as well. The worst you'll do is send them into a depression. And if you are somehow successful in cutting of Israel at the windpipe, what will you do when people begin to starve? When people are kicked to the curb because they lost their job? Will you be proud of yourself for sending 9.5 million people into a humanitarian crisis? Does your plan to end suffering involve making other people suffer instead?

We live in a statist world. As much as you or I dislike it, that's the reality we have. You can aspire to a better system, you can set your sights on a world in which there are no states, no governments, no militaries, and no borders. But you can't work within that framework before it's applicable. You can't eat raw cookie dough because you want it to eventually become a cookie. Liberalism won't save us, but it might stop the bleeding

[quillkiller]

seven scenes from a marriage

a bellareg marriage au & house of black study

— cw: incest, abuse, unhealthy relationships, 1.2k words.

i.

Sirius leaves, is disowned, and no one knows what to do with you. You hear your mother spouting curses and traitor, traitor, traitor, and she looks at you like you’re dead weight, now. And you understand her, you do. You’ve always pitied your mother, looked down on her for giving birth to three daughters and not a single son.

You’re not a son (that’s your curse), but at least you would’ve always been a Black; and now you’re dead weight.

You hate him, your favorite cousin, the one you taught how to hold his wand right. Your co-conspirator at miserable family functions, your own flesh and blood— a traitor.

ii.

Regulus is made heir, your soft spoken baby cousin. Sirius’ little brother, his constant shadow, always one step behind him unless you could manage to steal your older cousin away for a few hours.

It’s strange seeing Regulus without his brother in front of him, covering him like a shield, and you think it’s the first time you’ve properly seen your baby cousin. He looks wobbly on his knees, like a weak comparison to his older brother. It’s strange following his gaze and not finding Sirius at the end of it.

Your mother doesn’t want you to marry him and your father strikes her with an open fist to remind her of her place. He says, you’re not a Black, and then, you don’t decide who my daughter marries.

Regulus is heir, now, after all, and you’re just a girl despite having eight years on your baby cousin.

He’s malleable, though, like clay, and you’ve got strong hands and sharp teeth.

You give him the Black smirk and a wink. He flushes a pretty pink at that, lips parted and long eyelashes fluttering as he tries to hide behind an imaginary body.

You think, sweet little lamb, as you crowd him like the predatory wolf that always lived inside you.

iii.

He looks at you so sweetly, your baby cousin. As if you’re his guiding star, like he needs you; like he used to need his big brother— and you struggle a little not to see him as a blushing seventeen year old kid instead of the heir of house Black.

Regulus has always watched you, mostly whenever you interacted with Sirius, as if you were standing in his way or, sometimes, as if he wanted what belonged to his brother: you.

You let him touch you and he’s so gentle, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands or where to put them. So you do it for him, your back against the wall in his childhood bedroom. He calls you pretty, so pretty, and it’s easy to believe him when his lips are trembling, his hands shaking.

You were never pretty, that was always for your younger sisters.

It’s Regulus’ birthday so he goes down on one knee and puts a ring on your finger. His gray eyes never leave your gray eyes. His lips taste like home, like solidity, and you bite down to taste some of your shared blood. Sealing the deal.

You tell Narcissa about it over tea, showing off your ring, and you’re both laughing. You tell her how sweet he was, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch you, stars in his eyes and bending to your every will. Narcissa can’t stop giggling, that’s our baby cousin! And you laugh, too, and say, he’s my fiancé, actually, and you give her a wink.

Regulus writes to you every week while he’s doing his last year at Hogwarts. He finishes the letters off with kisses every time. He complains about Sirius and you roll your eyes.

He writes, I can’t wait to be yours, and you forget, for a moment, that you’re the girl.

You write him back, you wanna be my wife, cousin? because you can’t help yourself. It’s going to your head.

He writes, please.

iv.

You’re a married woman and you can’t help but resent how well it suits you. It was your biggest nightmare growing up, the end of your delusions about autonomy that you never really had in the first place. You’re a girl, something to be handed over and dealt with. First you belong to your father, then you’re supposed to belong to your husband.

All girls grow up just to become their mothers. At the hands of husbands like their fathers.

Regulus isn’t like his father. Or your father. He’s not even like his brother. He’s heir, and you’re his wife— and people respect him more than they respect you. That’s to be expected.

It’s different behind closed doors, though. As if the roles are reversed. Regulus looks to you, as if asking you to take the reins. Like he’s a marionette and you’re holding the strings.

It’s a heady feeling, being man of the house.

v.

Regulus looks to you, so he takes the mark because you ask him to, because it’s what’s best for him. And you want what’s best for him.

He doesn’t ask questions, only gives you that look that goes to your head before he straddles your lap and says, you take such good care of us, and you pull him closer by the waist and say, I’ll always take care of you, darling.

Because you do, you take care of you and yours.

vi.

There are whispers of a cave, the sea, but they get smothered with ink and death. As if they’re whispers from another life, far from here.

Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night, and it’s cold and dark, and you’ll panic for just a second, like you might never feel happiness again. Then you turn on the lights.

You rise to the top, hand in hand, Mr and Mrs. Black. The Dark Lord speaks directly to you, like you’re a person, like you’re worth listening to. Your husband stands at your back, you cover him like a shield— and he’s always one step behind you.

The Dark Lord takes a liking to you both. He lets you sit the closest to him, your husband to your right. The others give you strange looks whenever they forget themselves.

You don’t let them forget themselves.

vii.

It works— you’re happy and it works.

You’re enough like Sirius that Regulus can fall in love with you, and eventually he stops giving you that searching look of his. He stops trying to find his brother in your eyes— until all he sees is you.

It’s easy to dote on him. He’s soft and pliant, you lead and he follows. It’s almost love, for you. You love him because he’s your cousin and because he let you remain a Black. You love your marriage, the power, being man of the house.

You’re a good match and you remember cursing Sirius for abandoning you, and now you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

You take care of you and yours. He stays faithful and submissive like a wife, and he smiles so sweetly when he smells another woman’s perfume on your robes; like he’s just grateful you came home to him, because that’s what matters.

Your mistresses mean nothing to me, he says, you’re my wife, so you kiss him to let him know who you belong to.

He keeps you out of Azkaban, you make him a believer.

It works— you’re happy and it works.

[smoshsfavoritepizzaplace]

Can I give an unpopular opinion?

I'm starting to resent Smosh Twitter and it has been boiling over for quite some time now.

There have been quite a few incidents that come to mind...

The excessive Damien slander - God forbid he exists. I know he had that moment with a fan on Twitter, but he did apologize and some people can't let that go. Some have even resulted into mocking his appearance because of it or because of some drama with people within his Twitch fanbase. So, making jokes about his personality and appearance is ok, given a fan of his insulted u? How and why?

The possessiveness over Court and Shayne's relationship and misunderstanding of parasocial - I think we can all agree we are over the moon for them, right? That we want what's best for them? So, why do some continue to act like de facto overseers of their marriage/lives?

Don't get me wrong, we should continue to police toxicity like what has been going on lately. We shouldn't be speaking on their behalf unless stated otherwise. If they've said something in a video, i.e. Court stating she didn't want to be seen as just Shayne's wife, then carry on as per usual. But, I have seen it recently amongst the Court pregnancy fiasco, that some people are undermining Shayne's feelings and are instantaneously shutting it down. And if I'm being quite frank it pisses me off.

Those that are bringing up Shayne aren't trying to disregard Court's feelings or quote on quote "make it about him". It's his wife after all and this could take a toll on his mental health when he doesn't condone these things nor perpetuate them and it is deliberately affecting his partner.

Nevertheless I have seen people go on the defensive and say this is why they kept their relationship private, don't be parasocial!

NO, quite the contrary actually, they kept their relationship private for safety reasons because of prior stalking incidents. Not to mention IT'S THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND WHATEVER THEY CHOOSE TO SHARE IS A PRIVILEGE, NOT AN OBLIGATION!

Would these same people say that to him if he decided to post something in return? He shouldn't have to say anything, obviously anything regarding his wife's autonomy🤦���♂️

The only other note of mention is all the polyamory quips. Now this is parasocial when all the usual suspects involved are either married or dating, let alone someone who works with them!

An example I've seen quite often👇

They're looking at Amanda/Arasha, they've got their heart eyes in! I understand heart eyes are not conditional, but if they look at Shayne the same, we go back to people clamoring everything isn't about him. For crying out loud it's their husband at the end of the day, what do people want?

The Hypocrisy - In general there's just so many double standards and it is beyond tiring.

X has been here longer...

I don't like X and I don't care if they see all my tweets bashing them!

It just becomes an echo chamber after a while.

The worst being the objectification and sexualization of cast and crew.

Recently, I saw a disgusting tweet where someone talked about all the sexual acts they'd like to do to both Angela and Amanda. WTF?

It gets worse, people liked it and reposted it! Some of which are those who are quick to chastise others for doing it, I guess as long as you don't post it yourself🤷‍♂️

I understand that a lot of people at Smosh are attractive and you'd like to let that be know/share it with fellow fans, but there are lines that you shouldn't cross, especially doing it on MAIN!

Sorry this was so long winded, but I just wanted to get this out of my mind. I honestly can't stand the fandom over there on Twitter anymore. There are some great people over there, but it feels very high school like and I'm not fond of that whatsoever.

✌

Yeah Twitter is pretty bad. I use it a fair amount for the most part but it comes to a point where I’ll see a tweet and I’m like “okay, that’s enough of this app today.” I’ve spoken about the shourtney stuff a bunch so I won’t comment on that specifically, but the Damien/angela/amanda thing you mentioned is absolutely terrible. Shayne once said something that stuck with me, I don’t remember exactly what vid he said it in, but he said something along the lines of “don’t make fun of physical attributes of people you don’t like bc they’re not the only ones with those features, you can make other people feel insecure that didn’t to anything to you.” That’s not exactly what he’s said, but it’s relatively close. It’s fine if you don’t like Damien, you don’t have to, but don’t sit here and make fun of him every time he breathes. Even if it’s a “joke” or “trolling,” it’s still wrong bc he’s still a person and most likely sees the things being said. Also, did you say “Recently, I saw a disgusting tweet where someone talked about all the sexual acts they'd like to do to both Angela and Amanda.”???!? WHAT?!? That’s so gross, that person needs to be banned immediately. Both women are very pretty and I have a crush on them myself, but I would NEVER say anything remotely like that. Is it so hard for people to just say they think someone is attractive? It’s genuinely so insane to me that I’m lost for words…

[micahthemoon]

Summer 2024

The Are You Tattoo Saga

I have been fascinated by tattoos for a long time. I love the fact that you can make yourself into a work of art quite literally showing your passions and story on your sleeve. There’s autonomy in getting tattoos as well; taking back our body that may or may not give us dysphoria (or other senses of discomfort) and decide what it shall look like for ourselves. Body parts that otherwise would make me uncomfortable have been made a source of pride (on good days) or at least I can look at it with content indifference (on the lesser days). All because of some ink. This might be why I have been getting more and more tattoos that – in some cases- may be seen as a spontaneous decision. This tattoo I’m gonna talk about now however is far from one of those.  

If you read my previous entry about how Käärijä accidentally validated my gender, you may remember that I mentioned a comfort stim sentence: Are You.

It can be linked back to the Eurovision preshow days where Bojan and Jere were just starting to get to know each other which the two idiots did by fooling around on a date. This saying has not only become a way for the two of them to show endearment (or the fans getting to interact with each other and the boys), but it has also been what finally learned me how to roll my r’s practicing the right cadence alone in my room for the simple fact that saying it made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. It was also one of the things I became known for meeting up with fans irl for the first time between Käärijä’s Stockholm and Berlin gigs last year.

And so it didn’t take me long to daydream about getting it tattooed. Which ended up becoming a whole saga when Joker Out announced that they’d visit Malmö on their upcoming Europe tour (which is basically Denmark) and where I later – with a lot of people cheering me on from the sidelines – got Bojan to write the phrase down to me in two different fonts. To this day the concert is amongst my favourites.

Yet things don’t end there because one comment later about the possibility of getting Jere involved as well and I was off making a new sign. I tried getting Käärijä’s attention in Böle to no avail (other than making myself more stressed than I’d ever been at a concert). So, this summer going to Backas and Allas Sea Pool I had let the sign stay at home. Jokes on me, because suddenly in a rush of bravery I made myself a new sign out of half a pizza lid box left behind in the queue for the Allas Sea Pool gig. Low and behold if not Jere saw and reacted to this sign during the concert!! Getting by with a little help from my friends (especially this one finnish fan I’d met at Backas) I went home from the gig with Jere’s handwriting. A little over a month later on August 13 2024 the Are You tattoo saga concluded when I got a local tattoo artist (I’d already fanboyed too back in March when getting one of those spontaneous tattoos of mine) to make the little three way conversation permanent on my skin.

I have no idea how long the brainrot will continue. Maybe I will stop being this much of a fanboy in a year or two. But even so I don’t think (or at least I hope not) this tattoo will lose its meaning. Because It’s so much more than just a fan tattoo. It’s a story about a time I was foolishly brave no matter if it went well (Malmö) or it didn’t (Böle). It’s a story about the importance of interpersonal connections (the fan in Allas), the power of a found family through a fandom (or two) and also just a time in my life I was actively a participant in pursuing my own happiness.

I’ll say it again: I freaking love tattoos.

[medusa-fem]

As a bisexual woman in an opposite sex relationship I feel like I should speak up about my experience for the sake of those who don't feel like lesbians can understand.

If you discovered radical feminism while in a opposite sex relationship, that's already hard enough. If you discovered it in a loving long term relationship where everything has been going well? It's a devastating feeling knowing you could be in danger. I cannot imagine being heterosexual as well, so I'm sorry if this post still doesn't represent all aspects of this issue. All of this to say I have empathy, complete empathy for all of those who simply cannot see separatism as an option right now. Maybe you're too in love, maybe you're tied financially, maybe you have kids or simply want children some day. It can feel impossible to leave, and honestly I don't think it's a realistic expectation to hold all women to that they should pick up everything and leave when they are currently happy.

Above all else, even if you are happy right now, have a plan in place for if something happens. If you are choosing to not participate in separatism for any number of reasons, you have to keep yourself safe. Even loving, kind, amazing men and fathers are still part of the patriarchy, and therefore are inherently more dangerous than females. Some may hate to hear this, but this absolutely applies to if you are dating trans women as well. I have seen it first hand.

These are some ways I'm keeping myself safe within my current relationship:

• Keep Finances Separate

Even if a divorce/break up is amicable, not having separate funds is a risk to yourself, and to your kids if you have any. Not knowing how you could afford to leave, will be the first step to convincing yourself you don't need to even if a boundary gets crossed. Keep savings to yourself, even better if he doesn't know about it. Keep your bank accounts and credit cards separate. Even if you don't consider yourself a separatist, keeping your autonomy within a relationship with a male is key to your safety.

• Decide Where Your Boundaries Lie

Make a list of things that if a single one happens, you're done. Hold yourself to it too.

The obvious things are

- Any violation of consent. Especially in regard to sex.

- Any threats. Be it financial, physical, or emotional, a threat is a reality waiting to happen.

- Cheating. It might not be a big deal to you, but it is a clear sign he doesn't respect you, and that is dangerous.

- Buying sex. This may not be a common one, but 100% this is paid rape, and he is not a safe person to be around if he is willing to pay to rape a woman.

- Watching (especially violent) pornography. If you have explained to him all the ways pornography harms female people, and he is still choosing to consume this kind of media, it is fully your right to consider this grounds to leave.

Add literally anything else that is a hard limit for you. If any one thing happens, proceed to quietly prepare to leave the relationship.

• Know Your Local Women's Shelter and Women's Trauma Support Groups Contact Information

Even if you think you will never need it, keep their information in your phone. If a crisis happens research will add time where you can't immediately leave, and it can absolutely be too overwhelming. If you have been through any sort of trauma in your past, I highly recommend being a regular in your local support group if you can. Having a community can keep you safe.

• Keep Women in Your Life

Do not let yourself become isolated in your relationship. If it's a red flag when a man intentionally isolates you, you certainly do not want to accidentally isolate yourself. It can be hard to make and keep friends, but try to make sure you have at least 2 people you trust to call if you need someone to talk to or somewhere to crash.

To this note...

• Gossip Gossip Gossip!

Men have demonized gossiping, but it might save your life. Tell your trusted female friends about your relationship, good and bad. They might see red flags before you do, and if anything happens they can have your back. The best way to avoid falling for gaslighting is to gossip, because even if he convinces you you're wrong, your friends will know what you told them, and they will remind you what really happened.

• Stay on Birth Control Until You Can Independently Support a Child

Obviously if you already have a child, this is in regard to having more children. If you want kids, be smart about it. If you aren't able to financially support yourself, make sure you are taking preventative measures to avoid a pregnancy. Men like to accuse women of baby trapping them all the time, but the reality is we are the ones who get trapped when we love our children but can't afford to leave and support them on our own. I've seen friends go through it, friends who wanted kids and would have zero regrets about having children if it wasn't for being stuck with their fathers.

• Stay Educated

Stay aware of things such as common red flags of abuse, DARVO, types of gaslighting, and signs of depression in yourself. Never stop reading and learning about how these things play out. If you want a happy, loving, safe relationship with a man, a big part of that is having the knowledge to see when it is no longer a relationship with those qualities.

If anyone would like to add anything else, it would be greatly appreciated. I know in an ideal world, separatism would be the choice of all women, but that's not the world we live in. I want to look at ways to support women in opposite sex relationships, especially supporting them in getting out when the time is right.