#SHE CAN CURE MY DISEASE

[meritss]

MOTHER MONSTER IS FINALLY BACK 🔥

STREAM DISEASE

[bacchuschucklefuck]

[yangjeongin]

HYUNJIN | 200925 • BACK DOOR ( for @hyunpic 💘 )

[merevide]

thank you to lady gaga’s fiancée for making her get back into music or whatever idc. this is a hit and i need a collaboration with chappell roan announced by the end of the month

[plumbus-central]

what does Minnie's cutie mark mean?

its based off an incident that occurred before she immigrated to ricks dimension and planet. She is originally from a royal/noble family in a fantasy type dimension (picture like the underworld but with more infrastructure), and she was assassinated but brought back to life by necromancy magic which she then inherited the ability to use.

So basically its just Horse Skull = Necromancy

thank you for the question! minnie's been my oc for like a decade so i dont always remember the things i've shared abt her.

(i sort of went off in the tags but i dont want to copy n paste it all up here so just make sure to read the tags for more info on her powers. I prommy im working on a minnie info post! 😭)

[fieldmoths]

i wish i could concisely explain my sims world but i’ve been fleshing the same one out for almost 2 years. where do i even begin

[onika-t-maraj]

…

[sirpeppersto]

i have a little knee injury and ive been telling people its just from me sitting down weird but really, i hurt my knee dancing to lady gaga

[gotmyass2marz]

save me fukouna girl SAVE ME fukouna girl !!!!!!!!save m

[critterpick]

sorry Ive fallen behind on drabblecember already gang, the odd sleep patterns from adjusting to having crumb home has finally taken its toll on me...Im so eepy 😭

[madigoround]

Issue one: my great aunt (grandma’s sister) (there was a time I was very close to this aunt because she let me come live with her when I got away from my parents) had some weird blood test results earlier in the week and then Friday she was diagnosed with leukemia (aml to be exact) and the reason she was having those blood tests in the first place is that she already wasn’t healthy and was supposed to have gastric bypass surgery at the end of the year for her health cause she’s like close to 400 pounds I think so that makes her treatment options even less viable because she’s already not in a decent health place, she’s also 62 and apparently the chances of someone over 60 living with aml five years past their diagnosis is like 28%. Currently she can’t be transferred anywhere that isn’t by ambulance or medivac helicopter because her blood pressure or blood sugar or something is dangerous and needs to be monitored.

Issue two: said great aunt lives in Florida and other than a few friends she doesn’t have a whole lot of supports down there, all her family is here but now she’s only talking to like two of us when she feels like it and is kind of just shutting down instead of talking with us and giving information about her possible treatments and she has like six cats (maybe 7 she gets them so often it’s hard to keep up) and a house and a job and isn’t making any moves to handle any of it and is instead asking my grandma to come down to Florida to take care of her (my grandmother has had blood cancer for years but my great aunt has never offered to take care of her 👀) and earlier in the week my grandma got some less than great health news too so she really needs to be resting but instead she’s making moves to go down to Florida for a few weeks to figure out what is happening with her treatment and help take care of her. I am catching fire at work and was punished for taking a family emergency day earlier in the week for my grandmas health thing. I am completely powerless to actually help in this situation and instead am just doing a bunch of research in case I can find something that will help but it’s all bad news

[northgazaupdates]

This is Doaa @doaaadas

Originally from north Gaza, Doaa lived with her parents in a comfortable home. When the IOF invaded, they became trapped in their home for days, going hungry and thirsty for much of that time. When they finally escaped, Doaa’s father was killed and Doaa was injured.

Since that day, Doaa’s health has been extremely fragile. She tries to receive what treatment she can, but the lack of availability of care has exacerbated her injury and created a cascade of health problems.

Doaa is currently in surgery and she is in very poor condition. Although we are glad she was able to get this procedure, it is not going to be a cure-all. She will still have serious health problems, and the trauma of the surgery itself will leave her weak and vulnerable to infection and disease.

Doaa has only her mother with her. Her mother is terrified and exhausted, and has no source of income. Please help them afford basic necessities like water, food, and supplies for managing Doaa’s health going forward.

Please donate what you can and share her campaign so it gets more visibility. It has very low funds, and your sharing is very helpful and appreciated.

Thank you❤️

Doaa’s campaign is verified by @mohammedalhabil2000

[dathen]

We’re so used to the sexual reading of the entire book of Dracula, which takes the sensuality of the early chapters and jams everything that follows it into the same metaphor no matter how poorly it fits, but I feel the segment we’re approaching works much better with a lens of chronic illness and disease.

Vampire legends are inextricably intertwined with disease. Many of them are said to have been birthed by burying victims of disease too soon, who later seem to rise from the dead. But what’s more is that Stoker and his family have deep-seated trauma over disease: his mother had to flee her hometown at the age of 14 because of a horrific cholera epidemic, and Stoker himself was bedridden as a child from an illness that no one could identify.

Found this quote from Irish Historian Mary McGarry:

Bram as an adult asked his mother to write down her memories of the epidemic for him, and he supplemented this using his own historic research of Sligo’s epidemic. Scratching beneath the surface (of this essay), I found parallels with Dracula. [For instance,] Charlotte says cholera enters port towns having traveled by ship, and can travel overland as a mist—just like Dracula, who infects people with his unknown contagion.

I bring this up because a lot of academic analysis insists that Lucy sleepwalking is proof of her being the Slutty Woman archetype that needs to be punished. This suggested symbolism is hilarious when put next to the text saying she inherited it from her father, but I’d like to suggest a different angle from the lens of disease suggested earlier:

Lucy’s sleepwalking is a condition that predates Dracula but makes her an easy target for him to prey on. Through the lens of disease symbolism, she now is someone with chronic illness or disability who is especially vulnerable to infectious disease. This becomes a cross-section of Stoker’s trauma regarding disease: his own mystery illness and his mother fleeing a plague.

To wind down my rambles with a bit of a soapbox, I feel this adds a very poignant layer to the struggle to keep Lucy alive. The COVID pandemic showed a horrifying level of casual ableism vs disabled and immunodeficient individuals, shrugging off their vulnerability and even their deaths with “well COVID only kills them.” There’s something deeply gratifying at seeing the way everyone around Lucy fights to the bitter end to protect her and refuses to just give her up to Dracula, whether it’s Mina physically chasing him away or the suitor squad pouring their blood into her veins or Van Helsing desperately searching for cures. The vulnerable deserve no less than this. They’re not acceptable casualties.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Tipping Point

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: sexual tension, implied smut

Summary: Your aunt signs you up for shooting lessons with Spencer Reid. You get more than you bargained for when you go.

Square Filled: alex blake (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Not having a job is really kicking your ass. All you do is stay at home and flip through magazines and shows you’ve already watched. Since your parents died, your aunt has taken you under her wing. The housing and renting market is a joke right now, so you’re living with her until you can go to school. You want to go into her field since you look up to her so much, but the school year doesn’t start for another three months.

So, you’re just trying to pass the time by reading magazines and watching shit reality shows.

Aunt Alex walks downstairs after getting ready for work, and she goes to the kitchen where the full pot of coffee you brewed is waiting for her.

“So, what do you have planned for today?” she asks.

“Well, at ten, I want to cure diseases, and at two, I plan on writing a thesis on String Theory. Why? Do you have something planned? I can see if I can fit you in,” you say sarcastically.

“You’re so funny,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “There’s actually something I want you to do for me.”

“What’s up?”

“I signed you up for shooting lessons. One of my coworkers is teaching the class, and he knows you’re coming. Your appointment is at two.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. She’s been nagging you to take shooting lessons ever since you moved in with her.

“Aunt Alex…”

“Y/N, listen, your mother wasn’t prepared and look where it got her. I’m not letting the same thing happen to you.”

She’s right. Your father died shortly after you were born so your mom was the protector. There was an invasion one night and she wasn’t able to protect herself against the intruder. She died fighting to save you. Alex sees evil every single day, and it would break her heart if you weren't prepared for the worst.

“Fine, I’ll go,” you sigh.

“Good. It’s at two. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

The morning is filled with reality TV, and the early afternoon is when you prepare to go to this lesson. What should you wear? A dress might be too much so you pick out a nice pair of jeans and a loose shirt. Once ready, you leave the house and head over to the shooting range. You’re not sure who from her team is going to be teaching you. You’ve never met them but you do know them by name. David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, and Spencer Reid. You don’t think Rossi or Hotch will teach you so it has to be either Derek or Spencer.

The shooting range is empty, probably due to Alex’s influence. She wanted whoever is teaching it to focus on you the whole time.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

“In the back!”

You walk to the back and see a tall and slender man putting away supplies. From Penelope’s use of the phrase “Chocolate Thunder” (thanks to Aunt Alex repeating it several times), you know this is Spencer Reid. Spencer turns and you’re immediately floored by how attractive he is. You’ve met your fair share of men and have hooked up with more than one of them, but Spencer is on a whole other level.

This is a man right here. You’re into older men, too. You’re not sure how old he is but he can’t be more than thirty-five.

He walks over to you with a smile. “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid. Alex said you were coming over.” No words are coming out so you just nod instead. “Have you ever shot a gun before?” Again, you can only shake your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

He takes you over to the area where you shoot and shows an array of guns on the table next to it. He picks up the smaller one and hands it over to you.

“Wow, this is heavier than I thought it was going to be,” you chuckle when you grab it.

“Yeah, don’t let that scare you. This is a very easy gun to use. First, safety.”

Spencer takes the gun from you and puts it on the table before grabbing a pair of earmuffs and safety glasses. You look up at him as he slides the earmuffs over your ears, and he looks into your eyes. He briefly looks down at your lips but it was so quick that you could have been imagining it.

“Does that fit well?”

Even through the earmuffs, his voice is like honey. You nod and he moves onto the glasses. He slides them on despite you having full capabilities of doing this yourself. You look down and the glasses slide off your face entirely, and you chuckle shyly. Both you and Spencer lean down to pick it up, and your hand bumps against his.

It was just a bump but that sends shockwaves through your body. Based on how Spencer is looking at you, you know he felt the same. This is different than any fling you had. You’ve never felt this type of attraction toward another man.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay.” He grabs the glasses. “Let me get another pair.” Spencer leaves and returns with a smaller pair. “Are those okay?”

“Better,” you smile.

“Okay, take the gun and turn the safety off.” You pick up the gun and flip the little switch. Spencer steps closer to you, so close that you can feel his body heat behind you. Butterflies flutter in your stomach but you try to ignore them. “Here, hold it like this.”

He reaches around you and fixes the way you hold the gun. He has to press himself closer to your back, and you silently thank Aunt Alex for setting this up for you.

“Am I holding it right?” you ask.

“Yes.”

His breath is hot against your neck, and you swear you can feel your panties dampening a little bit.

“Now what?”

“Shoot.” You aim at the target in front of you and shoot three times, all of the bullets not hitting the target but on the paper outside of it. “Okay, next time, don’t close one eye. That actually doesn’t help.”

“Okay,” you chuckle. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Try again. This time, try to aim for the heart.”

You aim at the target but freeze when you feel Spencer’s hand sliding up your arms and down to your waist. How can you think about this when all you can think about is his hands on your body? You shoot the target twice, both of the bullets hitting the target. However, one hit his leg and the other hit his hand.

“Better?”

“Yeah, a bit. Are you sure you’ve never shot a gun before?”

“Never.”

“For a first-timer, you’re doing a lot better than other newbies.”

“Thanks,” you smile. “I just have a really great teacher.”

Spencer spends the next thirty minutes teaching you how to shoot multiple different guns. By the time you’re done, the sexual tension is high. Spencer steps back from you and you regret not failing more just so you can feel his body against yours.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. I do think you might benefit from one more lesson. Are you free next week?”

“Yes,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I can make that work. Just let me know.”

“Great.”

Spencer removes your glasses and then your earmuffs while staring into your eyes the whole time. The tension between you two is like a boiling pot of water. It’s going to overflow any second now, and you can’t wait to see what will happen when he snaps. He looks down at your lips and you lick them slowly, and that seems to be the tipping point.

He grabs your waist and pulls you into him before slamming his lips on yours. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He hooks his hands under your thighs and lifts you up with ease, setting you on the small table so you’re up to his height. Spencer slides his tongue along your bottom lip, but he kisses his way down your jaw to your neck instead of licking inside your mouth.

“Alex is going to kill me,” he mutters between kisses.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” you moan.

Spencer pulls back and kisses you once again. If you knew this was waiting for you, you would have taken lessons a lot sooner.

x

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[pseudowho]

Hanahaki

Nanami art by Osusiudon, picture edit by @pseudowho

Being in love with you was meant to feel good...so why was it killing Nanami Kento?

For more on the (purely fictional) Hanahaki Disease, please see here: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Hanahaki_Disease

I've altered things *just a little* to suit the story

Warnings: 18+, gore, smut, MDNI, unrequited love, angst, longing, hurt/comfort, cum as cure, TW anxiety, depression and low self-esteem

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"You've got to tell her. Nanami. You've got to tell--"

"--and burden her with this? No. It's inexcusable. This is...this is mine to bear."

Shoko stabbed her cigarette out with considerable force, driven almost to tears by this--

"--impossible man, Nanami Kento. You have options. We can fix this surgically, it won't be easy, but it will get rid of--"

"--my feelings for her," Kento interrupted, his voice brackish with pain, twisting in his lungs, all gnarls and knots and need. He felt the pain beginning to crescendo, doubled over on Shoko's surgery couch. If he groaned, he knew he would be choked in blossoms and blood. A fine mist of sweat collected on Kento's forehead, one arm wrapped around his belly as his lungs began to fill and burn.

Shoko was already lighting another cigarette, hands trembling, and snipped at Kento; "And what of it? She doesn't love you back, that's why you're in this mess."

Hearing the truth aloud was too much to bear, and Kento writhed, one strong hand gripping his throat as he coughed, choking, lungs and throat so full and packed and itching and--

--in one burning gasp, a congealed spatter of cherry blossom leaves and clotting blood left Kento's mouth at force, slapping into the surgery couch and dripping, viscous and sloppy, to the floor. Kento staggered, one knee collapsing, clinging to the couch as he retched and coughed, bent in miserable agony.

Shoko dragged on her cigarette, her back to Nanami, voice tight as she spoke; "So...you mean to die like this, then?"

Head swimming with blinding pain, feeling his lungs begin to fill again, Kento closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the couch.

All he saw was you. Your smile, effervescent with joy. Your small touches to his arms, all just tactile innocence. Your laughter, ringing down corridors as the students lolloped out of your classroom. He thought of you and all you were and all you could be, with or without him.

Kento smiled, a bloody kiss at the corner of his lips.

"There are worse ways to die."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento wasn't sure what was worse; the excruciating pain rooted in his chest, spreading longer and deeper through his torso with each passing day...or the certain knowledge that you were in love with someone else.

It was inevitable, of course; he was exciting, extroverted; Kento was dour and introspective. He was powerful, the strongest; Kento may never surpass 1st Grade, let alone achieve a domain. He would fawn, simper, flatter; Kento loved quietly.

Kento was tense in the staffroom, the petals building in his lungs so much faster when you were near. He needed to leave, needing to hide this from you, but he was twisted with the exquisite double-edged sword of the need to hear your laughter and the need to escape.

Satoru bent over beside you, whispering in your ear as you giggled, slapping him on the arm. Kento felt a nasty, burning envy as your eyes twinkled up at Gojo. He had not realised his eyes had strayed from his newspaper until you looked behind yourself, your cheeks flushing faintly as you felt Kento's gaze on you, of course I'm interrupting a private moment, idiot Kento you fucking idiot--

"Ken--...Nanami, are you alright? You look...pale." The genuine concern in your voice, the kindness you treated Kento with even though he was an insufferable bore, far too morose for pleasant company, made Kento stiffen, his chin jutted outwards.

Satoru looked disappointed as you turned from him, heading over to Kento, reaching out to put a hand to his forehead and shit, I'm done for if she lays a finger on me--

Kento flicked a hand upwards, batting you away as you reached for him, shoulders bunched with the urgency that you should never know about this, it's not her fault, she deserves to be happy--

"I am fine. I'm a grown man, I'd prefer not to be coddled." Kento felt his vision blacken at the edges with the need to cough, chest clawing, drowning, and he stood to the tune of your feet stepping quickly backwards, stumbling against the coffee table and I can't catch her because then I'd have to touch her hold her look at her and I'll die she'll never be mine god I want her to be mine I want her--

Satoru stepped behind you, long pale hands on your shoulders, stabilising you and shooting a scolding look at Kento's fast retreating shoulders. Your eyes were downcast, lips curled in and pressed together, hands clasped and twisting.

"Don't worry about it," Kento heard Satoru reassure you as he stepped out of the staffroom, "he's always been pretty standoffish, you did nothing wrong."

Kento made it to the end of the corridor before wrenching open a window, leaning out, coughing bursts of blood-spray-blossom. He blacked out for a moment as he leaned against the frame, scarlet and petals at the side of his mouth.

She doesn't deserve this she doesn't deserve any of this why are you like this why are you so fucking unlikeable Nanami you piece of--

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento wasn't sure when it started...this obsession. It wasn't like him, to become so hyperfixated.

Was it when you started teaching at the school? You had baked, keen to make a good first impression. You had taken particular notice of Kento, your keen eyes astute and reading him, laughing such genuine laughter, the. laughing harder at the surprise on Kento's face that you found his sardonic fatalism funny, but nobody finds that funny--

Was it the love, the protection, the fierce defending shield you offered the children? It was beautiful. Kento saw your rage and your sickened rants at the diseased establishment and god I could listen to her all day she's wonderful what a mind what passion she needs someone with the authority to make her vision bloom not some low-ranked cannon fodder destined to die in battle--

Was it when he and you fought together for the first time? It was so easy. You were smart, there was no ego, no competition, so seamless together and suddenly the work felt so light instead of the fucking drudgery I normally go through and we've even got time for me to take her out for dinner maybe I should ask her out to dinner maybe she'll say yes but it's too soon and she's just being friendly and she'd feel so obliged she deserves so much better she's a hidden gem I can't be the only one to have noticed--

Kento wasn't, of course. He just wished it wasn't Gojo, of all people, to have taken notice. As much as I can't stand the guy I know he wants life to be better for the kids too so of course you'd appreciate him and he's sweet with the kids too and no woman has ever said no to him and I lost my chance I should have asked her out when I had the chance I should have asked you fucking coward Nanami you jealous little bitch--

Satoru made short work of occupying your lunch breaks. He was effusive, open in his adoration. Not shy in declaring his enthusiasm for you. Kento saw you trying to battle an enormous bouquet into your car, and you caught his eye, blushing at having been caught, looking so awkward. You had laughed, eyes downcast again as Kento offered you a gentle smile. You shrugged at Kento, unsure what to say.

"I should tell him, don't you think?"

Kento felt his heart sink at your admission, it's only natural she should confess to Satoru when he's welcomed her in with open arms he's made himself pretty clear it makes it easier for her in fact and god I'd just be happy if she's happy really I just wish it was me instead and--

"Yes," Kento said, tight and clipped, missing the way your shoulders dropped in resignation, "it's best to be honest about these things. I find it's less stress on everyone if nobody misreads the situation."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat; "Yeah. We wouldn't...wouldn't want that." Your hand hovered over your door as Kento turned his back on you and what we could have had and that's dead and buried now so just walk away and you can get over it Nanami it's not like you deserved that anyway--

"Have...have a good evening, Ke--...Nanami. Stay safe."

You too stay safe I love you I love you and I swear to god if he ever hurts you I'll rend him limb from limb I'll make him wish he'd never been bor--

"Good evening."

Walking away had gutted Kento alive.

First came the blood. Then came the petals.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento could not make his mission, the day after the staffroom. He could barely make it out of bed, waking, again, to petals and blood, rust-red and congealed all over his pillows. He changed the sheets again, gasping for air, passing out for a moment upon the mattress, with one hand in each corner of the sheets, exhausted.

This lovesickness, this diabolical sweet agony...was the best death Kento could possibly hope for. Sat on the shower floor, naked, chest heaving as the water tumbled over him, Kento scraped pink crumpled petals from the blocked shower drain as the water began to build up around him.

Lying on the sofa, in just his boxers, Kento shivered in pain. He could barely towel himself dry, and he knew he must stay this way, now, too weak to make it back to his room for clothes. Is today the day? Will they find me today? If I die god I haven't seen her I need to see her before I die even if she doesn't know I'd like to hear her laugh just one more--

The doorbell rang. Kento huffed, coughing a horrible clumped mess of petals and blood into an awaiting bowl. His breath caught, no oxygen making its way to his limbs and he folded like wet cardboard onto the sofa, gasping, fingers clawing at his chest.

A timid knock. A voice. The gentle swing of a hinge.

"Kento? I'm coming in. Ijichi gave me your spare-- oh my god-- Kento-- shit, I'm calling an ambulan--"

Kento reached towards the door as you ran to him, fuck Ijichi you had absolutely no right idiot now she knows she fucking knows--

Kento burned as you knelt by him, hands splayed across his chest, his back, eyes feverish as you stared at him. Stared at the bowl full of blood and--

"...blossom? Kento, is this-- what's happening to you? God, you need Shoko...Kento? Stay with me please, I can't lose you--"

"--it's none of your damn business, get your hands off me!"

Kento had snarled at you, face and hands contorted, clearly in agony. Your face crumpled, biting back a retort, keeping yourself calm despite the venom and gore spitting from him. You took a single deep breath, in...out.

"It is my business. I know you hate me. I know you can't stand me being near you, and I don't feel that way about you-- quite the opposite-- but it is my business when I find you dying alone at home, so if you can stop being such a stubborn prick for just five minutes, I can get you into the car and get you some help."

Kento was near tears, cornered, a feral, wounded animal. Hate you I don't hate you I just can't have your hands on me like this when it's all I'd ever get and I want to hold you day and night and--

"Fuck, you have no idea," Kento groaned, sniffing into his forearm, forehead pressed to the sofa. You blinked down at him once, then, face fixed firmly, you slung his arm over your shoulders, heaving him up.

"Nope. Probably not. But why would I? You don't tell me anything. And why should you?" You snipped, and Kento lurched against you, who somehow held him up against you despite his weight.

"Move. Now. I've got blankets in the car."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento lay alone, in his hospital bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. The gentle hiss of oxygen from his mask kept him company.

You had asked him in the car, so many times, who his unrequited love was. He was steadfast in his silent refusal. You had read of this sordid disease, but never seen it in person. And on Nanami Kento, of all people, any woman loved by him would surely leap at the chance, I mean I would, if only he didn't fucking hate me, I'm not good enough for him anyway--

"Who is it, Shoko?" You whispered, holding yourself by the elbows as you leaned against an examination table. Watching Kento fade away before you through the little window, filled you with a thousand slivers of ice. His visceral dislike for you, his urgent need to push you away...no. You could not allow yourself to love him as you might have done.

Shoko frowned at you, trying to read you. She looked through the window, too, tapping her fingers on a clipboard in thought.

"You have no idea, do you?" Shoko mused aloud, soft, almost wistful.

You felt bile rise in your throat; "I don't need that from you, too, that's what he said. You don't have to treat me like I'm some fucking idiot--"

"You."

You faltered, your hand slipping off the examination couch you leaned back against. You looked up at Shoko, jaw dropped.

"...I--I'm sorry, what did you--"

"--you. It's you. He loves you."

You burst out laughing, a single harsh sound.

"Shoko. He can't stand me. Any time I'm near him, he just--"

"He just what? He clams up? Shuts you out? Doesn't let himself get any closer?" You nodded slowly at Shoko, still dumbfounded.

Shoko continued; "Nanami isn't the kind of guy to put himself first. Especially now he knows how Gojo feels about y--"

"Gojo?" You cried, fingers pressed to your temples, trying to hold back tears, "All this time I've thought I'm not good enough for Nanami-fucking-Kento, and he's held himself back because he thinks I want Gojo?"

Shoko paused, halfway to lighting her cigarette, drooping as her mouth dropped open. She looked to Kento, and back at you. Shoko pushed the cigarette back into its packet, tapping the box briskly on the table.

"You've got one chance to tell him," she snipped, "before I knock him out and take him for surgery."

Shoko moved to step out of the room, as you felt hope squirm in your belly. She gripped the doorframe as she moved to step out, white knuckled, not looking back at you.

"It won't go away until--...well. You do have to love him. Biblically."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You would wait until you had dropped him into bed, you thought, hands tense on the steering wheel. You were lying to yourself, you knew, your admission ready to burst out of you in furious blooms.

Kento was silent beside you, coughing occasionally into a handkerchief, less and less stained with blood and blossoms now. He was ashamed of himself for looking so pathetic and at least I can just die at home in peace now.

It took everything you had to keep your eyes ahead, instead of on him, still dressed in nothing but boxers and a blanket. You swallowed thickly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Terse, cold. You felt irritation bubble in your chest.

"Stop lying, Kento." He tensed beside you, at his name on your lips, so sweet, I could listen to it all night, I wonder what she'd sound like when she's calling it out around me--

Huffing, he turned to look out the window, "A little better. It's none of your concer--"

"I love you." Kento felt himself shoot through with warmth. The cloying petals in his chest began to shrivel. He was speechless, dark-circled eyes wide as he turned to stare at you. Your hands trembled, turning into the driveway, pulling the handbrake, switching off the engine.

"I always have. From the moment I met you, I knew. But you knew better apparently and you pushed me away and now you're so sick and I--I--"

You sniffled once, steeling yourself before stepping out of the car and round to Kento's door, opening it. You reached in, arms round Kento's chest and heaving him up, amazed at how strong you could be for him when he needed you. Kento did not fight. He remained placid, mussed, still smelling bed-soft and coppery as you moved him towards his door, unlocking it and taking him inside.

Kento had never felt so stupid. So ashamed. So unworthy. He had done this to himself, and for what? He replayed months and months of him and you, flashing like reels through his mind's eye, reframing all of your interactions, your discomfort with Gojo's advances, your pain at Kento's biting distance, you fucking idiot Kento this is all your fault like all the people you lose are your own fucking fault--

Kento felt himself dropped into bed, with no memory of the journey from doorway to bedroom. He looked up at you, truly looking at you for the first time in months, drinking in the soft acceptance in your eyes, how his pain mirrored in yours exactly.

You blinked first, a few tears slipping out as you stepped away, opening Kento's wardrobe and pulling out a shirt. Kento gulped, turning his head on the pillow as you began to undress.

"--don't do this just for me, you shouldn't feel obliged to stay--"

"Shut up. Idiot. You stupid, stupid man. I'm livid at you and I can do what I want, and you should shut up and do as you're told for once."

You could have insulted Kento until the moon waxed and waned a dozen times, and it would still have felt like falling into a bed of feathers, hearing nothing but I love you, Kento I love you, I always did, I love you Kento--

Kento's breath caught in his chest, still painful, but somehow easing, as he felt your weight settle into bed next to him. He tensed again, frozen to your warmth, for having held you at arms length for so long. You rolled, switching the lamp off. You faced him, in the dark. You could hear only the light rattling of his chest.

"Just let me stay. I...need to keep you safe. Even if I just watch you sleep."

Kento's face crumpled, teeth bared and gritted as he pulled a hand over his eyes. Gratefulness and relief stole away his voice. Quiet, nestled together in the dark, you heard the gentle susurrus of a hand sliding across the sheets. You jumped to feel the back of Kento's fingers brush across your belly, graze over your chest and down your arm, until your hand was plaited with his.

"Do you...do you mean it?" You pressed your eyes closed, so fragile from the weight of the day's admissions and revelations. Biting your lips with tears on your lash line, you nodded, Kento squeezing your hand, focused on your silhouette.

You remembered meeting Kento for the first time, the beautiful rush of gold in your vision, as you panned past his introversion and discovered treasure. You remembered reading his every move, the uncertainty of each other, the timid dance. You saw the questions in his eyes, never asked. You remembered his seeping coldness after the force of Gojo's overbearing affection. You remembered the distance, the sniping hatred-- only, it wasn't. It wasn't ever hatred. Just grief. Loneliness. Worthlessness.

Kento could only hold back his wretched coughing for so long, and you watched in horror as he forced himself onto all fours, back and chest rippling in agony as a burst of blossoms sputtered past his lips...only, less bloody now. Almost as if he was getting better but not quite--

Shoko's words came back to you, a ghost; "...you do have to love him. Biblically." You felt yourself shiver from shoulders to toes as you thought of Kento this way, taking you. All those nights, where you had tried to think of anyone but him, biting into the pillow as you fingers slid, wet and practiced, over your aching little bud. Only, for his voice, thoughts of him inside you, rooting through you, taking you over the edge into sweet oblivion...every time.

Loving him had become so involuntary, you thought, as he slumped into your arms, blond hair splayed across pink blossoms in the moonlight, exhausted. Despite his suffering, he looked ethereal like this, arm splayed above his downy soft hair, eyes feverish in the gloom. You felt this obsession grow, no longer pruned and restrained, now that you felt his urgent need for you.

Quaking, you lay yourself beside Kento, drawing your leg over him so your soft inner thigh rested on his groin. You felt him twitch, a little closeness only making his pain worse, the full weight of a fertile Spring wracking his lungs. Your fingertips grazed over his belly, and you felt him shudder beneath you.

"What--" Kento rasped, swallowing back the thick taste of blood, "...what are you...?" He stopped as you shushed him gently, one hand rested on his thick chest as you nosed the side of his neck, the shell of his ear.

"Let me help you." You felt Kento tremble beneath you, his hand coming up to clasp your thigh tighter over his groin. Kento overrode his desperation, shaking his head with a gulp, feeling pathetic and weak and she deserves so much better and--

"Not like this," he choked out, his chest heavy and cloying, "you deserve--"

"We've already wasted so much time, convinced we weren't good enough for each other. I deserve a life with you. And we can't do that if you're dead."

Kento broke, lost in the ecstasy of your soft kisses against his jaw, tongue flicking out to taste the soft sweat tang of him. Your fingers rose up to cup his face, turning him to you. The total certainty in your eyes as you leaned in to press your lips to his, made the air hit Kento's lungs with such blissful relief.

Kento felt bursts of strength with every scrap of love you gave him, enough to tangle his fingers into your hair, and swipe his tongue into your open mouth. Your little squeak of surprise ran through his belly, hot and needy, his cock throbbing in his boxers. Kento kissed you, hungry for relief, needing escalation as the petals began to clog his lungs again.

"Please, touch me," he begged, shameless in his wish to live, "--hurts--please..." Feeling his teeth nip into your lip, pushy and desperate, you allowed Kento to grasp your hand and trail it down over the honey-blond trail of hair on his belly, to cup over his rigid cock. He groaned with relief as you cupped his length, squeezing him until a drop of pre-cum seeped through the front of his boxers.

"--more, I-- I need more--" Kento twisted under your hand, squirming and prickling with the itching joy of your tongue tracing his ear, whispering soft reassurances as he moaned, bucking up into your hand, masturbating him through the fabric of his boxers.

You were mesmerised, obsessed with the effect you had on him. Your pussy throbbed, neglected, edging yourself by pleasuring Kento instead. You found yourself squeezing his cock harder, hungry for his panting breaths, his furrowed brow, the way his fingers clawed at you for release.

Climbing above him on the bed, straddling his hips, you slipped his boxers down and reached into his bedside drawer. His cock, heavy, thick, wet with pre-cum, settled on his belly, twitching as you released him. Your hand settled on a bottle of lube, filling your hand with this white, sticky, cum-like fluid, warming it on your palm.

Kento huffed, chest heaving again as he coughed, a spray of blossom landing on his chest and belly, sticking to the sweat misting his abs. You removed your underwear with your clean hand, resting your throbbing cunt on his balls. Ready to beg again, fingers sinking into the fat of your thighs with bruising force, Kento hissed as your lube-wet hand squeezed down the length of his cock, coating him in glossy slick.

The feeling of his cock, velvet-on-steel, thick in your hand, was a drug. Kento moaned, bucking up into the wet little plaps of your fist, as your hand stroked and squeezed the length of him. Kento felt himself squirm, head tossing and turning as he crumpled the pillow up in one strong forearm, biting into the fabric and blossoms there, frowning, moaning, gasping.

"--fffuuuck yes-- hnnng-- just like that, don't stop please don't stop--"

You leaned down, sinking your teeth into the broad plane of his pec, smiling in spite of the desperation of the situation. Your hand sped up, determined that the first time Kento spent himself, would be just that-- the first time. You would be his lover and his healer.

"I love you," you whispered against the rolling muscles of his chest, "I love you, and I'm staying, and I'll make you better again, I promise..."

Kento twitched, jerking with the force of the stimulation, his hand drifting to cup around yours, the other tugging the roots of his own hair. He moaned, long and stilted, writhing and begging.

"--god I love you-- your mouth, in your mouth please--cumming--"

Kento's seed spattered into your hand and across your tongue, your mouth not fast enough to reach his pulsing cock. Kento panted, short, twitching pants as he watched himself cum uncontrollably, his cum dripping down your cheeks, your eyelashes. Slowing down your strokes, squeezing the last drops of seed as Kento twitched and moaned, overstimulated, you were surprised to feel him remain hard in your hand.

With breathless grunts, and new colour in his cheeks, Kento reached down, pulling you on top of him, chest to chest as he held you, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your hair. You felt him grip you by the hips, slipping them downwards, your belly sliding on the cum dripping across his abdomen. Tilting your chin to look you up at him, Kento looked down at you, nose stroking against yours.

"...all this time?" He asked, so desperate for the reassurance. You nodded, feeling the tip of his cock at your entrance, straddling him so his cockhead pressed inside you.

"All this time...just crushing how I felt," you insisted. Kento was lost in the heat of your pussy clenching around his tip, bucking upwards involuntarily, begging to be invited in. Forehead pressed against his chest, his arms locked behind you, embracing you to him, you gasped as you rolled your hips, sinking him inside you, flush to your core.

You moaned, high-pitched and mewling. You felt yourself clenching, hot and wet around his twitching cock; you were not used to feeling so full, having abstained for so long, with no new suitor ever holding a candle to Kento. You felt Kento cough weakly, a smatter of shrivelled bloodless blossoms colouring your hair.

"--I've got you, I've got you--...shhh, I-- fuck you feel even better than I imagined-- I can't-- can't hold back, I'm--"

Kento's hips rolled up into you, both barely moving, entwined together in the soft silent dark. Belly pressed against his, Kento's cock curled hard against the front of your soft spongy walls, jolting insistently over the plush sensitive spot that made him feel belly-deep. Meeting his thrusts with your own, Kento growled out his sighs, chest rumbling beneath you.

"--worth it-- was all worth it for this...for you, I-- ...was so scared-- wanted to die in your bed-- so lonely--" Kento poured himself out to you, weakened and vulnerable inside you, his cockhead kissing your cervix as he kissed away the tears on your cheeks. The closer he got to his peak, the pain in his chest subsided, and he felt stronger, better, more alive than he had in months.

Kento rolled, flipping you over without warning, and knelt above you, grasping your hips so his cock stayed flush within you. Wrenching his pillow down the bed, he jammed it under the small of your back, panting, overtaken by something otherworldly as he stroked one hand down from your sternum to your mound.

"--selfish...I've been selfish," he berated himself, his long fingers slipping between your folds to find your throbbing little bud. You jolted, a high keening whimper leaving you as he rutted into your angled pussy, rolling your clit delicately between his forefinger and thumb. Kento glowered down at you, his eyes dark with lust, and you shivered under his cool gaze; suddenly, the man who had captured your heart all those months ago; "let's fix that, shall we?"

Kento wasn't sure how he summoned the strength to make love to you like this, his hips rolling with devastatingly slow precision, and you twisted beneath him, feeling every ridge of his bulbous tip as he watched where you were joined, pulling out almost completely before sliding all the way back, making you whimper and squirm.

"--together," Kento insisted, controlling your upcoming orgasm, his touches as accurate as your own fingers within yourself, reading you as you begged and moaned your way to orgasm. Kento fucked into you, hips stuttering, sweating and messy, desperate for you to cum so I can cum too and this whole fucking ordeal can be over god she's so gorgeous how did I get so lucky--

You trembled and whimpered, hands reached down and clutching Kento's thighs, feeling light as a petal on the wind as you came. Eyes closed, face relaxed with this heady, euphoric bliss, you swore you smelled the faint sweet-blossom-nectar of Spring wash over you, there and gone in the space between heartbeats.

Kento felt the weight of the world slip from his shoulders, suddenly whole and complete again, deep and emptying himself inside you with a shudder, your name on his lips; "--...so well--good girl, the best fucking medicine...thank you, thank you--"

Kento floated back down to earth, divine beneath the power being bestowed back into him. His chest cleared, supernatural by nature, his breaths now smooth and swelling. You stared up at him, eyes glazed, dazed by how you had moved him from death's door to demigod, in just minutes.

"I swear-- I promise you-- I'll be the best I can be for you-- the very best--"

"Idiot. You always were. You just...never saw yourself like I see you."

[polaris-stuff]

Dear TSAMS fandom, repeat after me:

Earth don't has to forgive Lunar.

Lunar essentially caused her a disability that cannot be easily cured. She cannot simply move to another body and say "problem fixed" just because the receptors in this body are burned. I'm not sure but I think it was mentioned several times that moving her to another body would just burn out the pain receptors in that body as well? So she would be in pain again?

And I don't know about you, but I love seeing disability representation on the show. She is a character with chronic pain and has to use a wheelchair, showing how much she struggles to have a normal life like she used to have, I personally am not disabled but I have friends who are and seeing them struggle for their life everyday breaks my heart, so seeing how happy it makes them that Earth is just like them makes me happy too.

"But Kat is not disabled! She shouldn't pretend to be" Dude, it's called acting. It's having a character that you have to play. Have you ever seen TV shows with characters who have X or Y disease or disability? More than 90% of their actors do not have that disease in real life. You are just hating because you want to hate.

"But she said she cant stand for too long and she have a whole conversación standing!" Have you ever thought about why it's called "chronic panic" for a reason? And that anger, rage, and adrenaline make a person do things they wouldn't normally do? And that after that adrenaline wears off, the person gets the worst pain of their life? And hey, have you ever thought about how IS A 2D CHARACTER. THAT IS NOT AFFECTING YOU LIFE AT ALL. And she makes so many people with chronic pain happy, they are having someone who understand them but, oh no, "She's not like me so ofc she's bad at it and it's offensive because I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT MYSELF FOR 5 MINUTES"

So kindly, stop criticizing Earth for every breath she takes for god's sake! You don't even try to be empathetic to her suffering, you're just thinking like "you don't like this so it's bad".

Earth is there, suffering the consequences of Lunar's tantrum and you're all just criticizing how she's "bad representation" because she can easily get fix when SHE CAN'T.