#and i’m still thinking about endo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

emeritusemeritus · 8 months ago

Note

Hello!! If it isn't too much to ask, could you make a Fred fic with reader on her period? Mine are absolutely excruciating, especially in the first two days, to the point of crying on the floor and stuff :(( it's totally okay if you don't want to, I just like to imagine Fred trying his hardest to pamper his s/o (and probably freak out a bit because honestly, periods are a nightmare men will never understand). Have a nice day ♡

Anon, it would be my pleasure! I’m so sorry you’re suffering, I had an endo flare up last week that nearly sent me to A&E so you have my full sympathy. You know that feeling when you could destroy the world and everyone in it but then your period starts and you realise that it’s been that all along? 🖤

Warnings: mentions of periods, menstural cycle, PMS, blood, pain. Best friend George, Fred is a sweetheart.

Words: 3.4k

The princess and the period.

You'd had a really terrible day, a horrible, never-ending bore of a day, at least in your mind. It started from the very second you woke up, alone in bed without Fred beside you. You'd slept through your first alarm and had nearly been late for an interview you'd had scheduled for months within the Department of Mysteries. You'd taken the visitors entrance to the Ministry to acquire your required visitors badge and had been held up by some Muggle incident that had rendered London at a near standstill.

The interview, thankfully, had gone well but you couldn't help but fixate on the discomfort you felt in yourself the entire time. Your clothes felt uncomfortable and restrictive and you felt bloated to the point that it was showing through your clothes.

You'd had plans to meet with Arthur after your interview for a cuppa and a catch-up at the small cafeteria whilst he took his break, something you'd been looking forward to all week. You made your way back down to Level two where the department of magical law enforcement was and walked through the mini atrium until you located the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office, only to be informed by Perkins that Arthur was running a tad late, caught up with something that required his immediate attention. Though this was far from unfamiliar, your temper had flared and you had barely managed to contain it, choosing instead to silently seethe as you waited in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs near the main desk. You weren't mad at Arthur by any means, you don't think you'd even been mad at him, but having to stay in uncomfortable clothing and wait when you were already having a bad day was just irritating you further and further as time dragged on, not helped by the incessant ticking from the muggle cuckoo clock on the wall that was driving you mad.

Arthur finally emerged twenty minutes later, apologising profusely as he grabbed his coat and ushered you back into the lift, a bright smile on his face as he began asking you about how your interview went and how his son was. You'd spent a nice half an hour together having a cup of tea and a freshly made slice of cake, something he was keeping a secret from Molly, but as you parted and made your way out of the Ministry to travel home, your mood had almost immediately soured again.

The street was still busier than usual, the noise of people shouting and car horns honking were essentially non stop and you couldn't wait to get home and relax away from the chaos. You had to stop by the shop on the way home for some ingredients for dinner that night and found upon entering the shop that they were completely out of what you needed. You huffed out a breath, feeling yourself getting worked up again and tried desperately to think of alternative ideas to work with what you already had at home but your mind was foggy and unable to concentrate, coming up with nothing. You felt like crying, stood in the middle of a crowed aisle in the muggle supermarket, feeling utterly pathetic. You cursed under your breath and moved away from the aisle towards the exit when you passed the small bakery counter, the sight alone of the small chocolate fudge cake on display enough to make you pause. Without hesitation you bought the cake and walked straight to the checkout, feeling defeat at not getting what was needed for dinner but at the same time, feeling a little victory at acquiring the chocolate cake you were so looking forward to.

You were exhausted by the time you opened the door to the apartment, cursing Fred in your mind for placing the anti-apparition jinx upon the store and the flat above and for not fixing the floo function on the fireplace which had forced you to manually travel into central London and back and then walk up four flights of stairs in your business heels. You were in a foul mood, tired and ready to snap from the day filled with complications and irritations.

You walked into the kitchen to place the cake on the side after kicking off your heels and saw a load of dirty pots piled up in the sink and a mess made on nearly every surface of the countertop, clearly from one of the twins on their lunch break.

You let out an aggrieved groan and slammed down the bag containing the cake on the small kitchen table, huffing and cursing under your breath as you chucked down your wand and walked immediately into the bedroom in a huff.

You rolled your eyes seeing the wardrobe doors open and the bed covers strewn everywhere from your rush this morning and groaned again, now in disdain for your own actions. You walked off once again, now annoyed at yourself and stepped into the thankfully rather tidy bathroom. You started the shower, wanting to wash the entire day away and get out of your uncomfortable clothes immediately which you happily threw onto the bathroom floor without a single care.

The shower helped, feeling a little cleansed by the water and familiar scents of your shower gel, though it didn't remove your bad mood entirely; thoughts of the messy kitchen and lack of dinner ingredients were still playing on your mind only winding you up more. You stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a big fluffy towel and walked into the bedroom to put your comfy clothes on, a big T-shirt that used to belong to Fred and your black joggers, aiming for ultimate comfort. You hadn't heard from George or Fred today except for the nice note they'd left on the fridge door wishing you luck for your interview, though it wasn't unusual, the shop was always busy.

You walked to the kitchen, completely ignoring the mess and pits that were not yours to clean and made yourself a cup of tea, almost crying as you looked at the slither of milk left in the fridge. It was enough for one cup of tea but nothing more and you cursed yourself again for not thinking of grabbing milk whilst you were at the shop.

You sat down in the living room with your cup of tea, wet hair thrown up in a lazy bun and had just pulled open the book you were currently reading when Fred burst through the apartment door.

"Ooh there's my princess, how did your interview go?" He says loudly, bombarding you instantly with a kiss to the head and throwing himself down onto the sofa beside you. You closed your eyes in annoyance, just wanting to relax and on the cusp of being able to before he interrupted.

"It was fine," you replied with a shrug, really not feeling up to explaining your day just now. "They said I'd receive an owl by the end of the week."

"Know you'll get it princess, always have been the smart one," he says, apparently thinking nothing of your rather clipped reply.

"Anyway, we're taking you to dinner tonight to celebrate," he says in a sing-song manner, stretching out on the sofa to put his feet up on the coffee table.

"But I haven't gotten the job," you countered, placing down your book, casting one last sad glance at the cover.

"Yet," he replies, stretching out and pulling open his tie just a fraction, eyes closed with a smirk tugging at his lips.

Any other day you'd have jumped at the chance to go out for a meal with your loved ones but upon looking at your comfy yet completely inappropriate outfit to go out in, your face fell. You'd have to put actual clothes back on, do your hair again and reapply your makeup that you'd just scrubbed off in the shower. You couldn't be bothered, at all. You wanted to sit and read with your cup of tea, switch off your brain and eat your weight in chocolate cake. But then you remembered that you had no solid idea or complete ingredient list for any viable meal and maybe going out would be the only way of eating that night.

You felt another wave of annoyance come over you as you considered having to get all done up again. Couldn't they have warned you? Left a note or something so that you didn't shower the minute you got in? You knew you were diverting into unreasonable territory as they were just trying to do something nice but you couldn't help it, you'd rather vomit slugs than have to get ready all over again and out of your comfort clothes.

"Anyway, best get back or George'll curse my eyebrows off, 7pm gorgeous, wear something sexy," he says, straightening his toe as he wiggles his eyebrows at you before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, "proud of you sweetheart." And then he's gone and you're left reeling.

Wear something sexy? Who the bloody hell was he to request that? Your boyfriend of years, but still.

You looked down at your outfit again and felt a ridiculous but prominent sense of loss, wanting to stay bundled up forever. You check the clock on the wall and feel aggravated once again as you see that it's nearly 5:50pm and you'd have to start getting ready. You begrudgingly dragged yourself into the bedroom and sat at your little table, staring into the mirror and felt no motivation or desire to get ready, looking at the drawers in front of you but not actually wanting to open them.

That's how George found you a little before 7 as he slipped away from the shop, seeing you sitting at your makeup table in tears. He rushed in as soon as he saw your tears and crouched down to try and comfort you, eagerly listening though it must have been hard for him as the crying was affecting your voice and all that came out were a few unintelligible whines.

"I just don't want to," you say with a hiccup, wiping away your fear from your cheek. You didn't think it would actually get this bad but your curls hadn't gone right, the hairbrush you found was not your favourite and sometimes pulled your hair a little as it brushed through and nothing at all would make you look sexy tonight with your bloating. You didn't want to wear uncomfortable heels again, nor walk anywhere in them and by the time you'd gotten to take a sip of your tea, it was cold.

"Shh, it's alright," George says soothingly trying to calm you. He placed his hand on your shoulder but quickly removed it as he saw your little glance at it. It wasn't that you didn't want to be touched per se, but his touch very heavy on your already uncomfortable body. "We don't have to go, it was only an idea."

You sniffled miserably and looked at your best friend, wiping away the tears. "But we don't have anything for tea, they didn't have any-."

"Then we'll order in, get something delivered or we'll nip out and bring something back," he says, not quite interrupting you but just enough to make you stop spiralling. You nodded meekly, feeling utterly pathetic again. "Right, I'll go tell Fred we're staying in, then we'll close up and order something okay? Do you want me to make you a cup of tea?"

You'd seen his eyes flicker to your still full mug and frown as he entered, figuring it was something that had set you off. You shook your head, already feeling like he'd done too much for you.

"Okay, we'll be back as soon as we can," he squeezes your shoulder and walks out.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, makeup sparingly applied but messed up thanks to your tears and your hair curled but not how you wanted it and sighed, feeling overwhelmed with guilt at shooting down your boyfriend and his brother. They'd only tried to do something nice and you'd completely spoiled it, too selfish and caught up in your own feelings that you'd been unreasonable and unkind. You considered wiping the makeup off your face but thought better of it but you reach for a big scrunchie and tie your hair back into a high ponytail, making you feel a little better.

You threw back on your comfy clothes and trudged into the kitchen, retrieving your wand to cast a few spells that had the kitchen cleared in no time. You poured away your cold tea and put the kettle back on, still seeking the comfort as you had before.

The twins closed up the shop in record time and Fred pulled you into the bedroom with him as he undressed, slipping out of his suit and into his own loungewear.

"Princess you should have said," he says gently, reaching for you, his hand cradling your face as he looks into your eyes, "I didn't mean to pressure you."

"No it's not you, I've just been off all day, everything's irritating me and I just want to switch off," you explained, hearing the remorse in your voice.

"Then relax you shall," he says with a smirk, "kiss first though?" His cheeky smile extends to his eyes and you catch his gaze flicker at your lips. You eagerly reach up on your tiptoes to place a sweet kiss onto his lips and you pull away smiling, feeling like it's the first time you'd properly smiled all day.

George ordered food for you all before hopping in the shower and arrived back in the living room wearing his comfiest pyjamas, pulling you into him for a hug as Fred fired up your favourite muggle movie on the TV, also joining you on the large sofa.

It was pitch black when you woke up, your eyes struggling to focus as you came around, confused as to what had woken you up. You could hear Fred breathing deeply and evenly, sound asleep. You looked at the little alarm clock beside the bed, lifting your head up from the place between the pillow and Fred's shoulder where your head rested and saw that it was 2:34am. As your consciousness begins to clear, you frown, feeling a soreness in your abdomen that you couldn't place, feeling as if you needed the toilet but without the urge to go.

You extracted yourself from your boyfriend's side, which never proved to be an easy feat, and walked to the bathroom, dragging your tired body along. You turned on the light and quickly shut the door to stop the light from disturbing your sleeping boyfriend and sat down on the toilet, turning the tap on out of habit. You pulled down your sleep shorts and underwear and immediately understood why you had an ache in your stomach, and why you'd been out of sorts all day.

Your period.

Every month without fail, the moment you discover your period had started, the pain heightens at least ten notches. You winced as you wiped, kicking off your underwear and shorts that were soiled and dragged yourself into the shower. For the second time, you sighed as you entered the shower, your body screaming at you out of exhaustion as you rinsed yourself off. You grabbed a towel and raced into the bedroom to grab a pair of panties from the dresser and ran back into the bathroom to sort your pad out. You then slipped on some new pyjamas and dragged yourself back to the bed, illuminating your wand to check that nothing had gotten onto the sheets, or worse on your boyfriend sleeping beside you. Luckily, it hadn't.

You suddenly didn't feel tired anymore, body wired from your lukewarm shower. You walked to the kitchen, padding through the flat on barefoot and flicked the kettle on, searching through the cupboard above for a jar of hot chocolate you kept in.

You grabbed your hot drink and flicked on a lamp before you pulled a black cushion from the side of the sofa to sit on, not wanting anymore accidents to happen. You didn't turn on the TV right away but instead chose to sit in the partially illuminated room and try and wind down. You couldn't get comfy at all, wiggling your hips to try and ease the ache between them, feeling like your lower abdomen was being constricted from the inside, shooting pains going down your leg and an uncomfortable pressure in your bum. You could sob with the pain, wanting to curl up in a ball and cry but you couldn't, I'm too much pain to even try and move, your entire energy being consumed by simply existing right now.

Your periods had always been bad, starting just before your third year at Hogwarts and though through time they had evened out a little, they were still unpredictable at best and monstrous at worst. You shifted your hips again, trying to relieve the tension you felt and groaned quietly, wishing that you'd filled up your hot water bottle before sitting down.

Medicine in the wizarding world was spectacularly different from the muggle word though a little less advanced as the wizarding community came with added complications such as diseases and ailments that muggles would never know existed. Witches and Wizards often didn't react well to normal muggle remedies nor pharmaceuticals, something you'd learned at Hogwarts from Madame Pomfrey, something about the magical ability burning through modern pharmaceuticals at a rapid rate, rendering them ineffective.

You placed your mug on your stomach to try and gain some heat from it and rested your head back on the sofa, breathing deeply and trying to calm yourself so that you could go back to bed. Feeling yourself getting sleepy, you placed down your mug and pulled a soft blanket over you, trying to get comfy as you settled into the soft material of the plush sofa.

"Princess?" You heard a quiet voice call out, your eyes on the verge of closing. You opened them just a little, sensing Fred's presence behind you and you twisted in position to look at him, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through your groan at the motion.

"What are you doing out here? George snoring too loud again?" You smiled appreciatively for the joke and reached out for him with grabby hands, needing some comfort. He wordlessly slipped in beside you on the sofa and immediately wrapped you around him, blankets and all as he kept you bundled up. You reached for his large hand, feeling the absurd heat he always radiated under your fingers and placed his hand onto your tummy. The heat from his hand spread over your skin instantly and you could feel it penetrating deeper and deeper, soothing your pain.

"That time?" He asks delicately and you nod into his chest, your eyes still heavy as you breathed in the familiar, comforting smell of Fred. "Want your water bottle?" You paused, considering it but slowly shook you head.

"Not right now, got you," you mumbled into his chest, his warmth and presence soothing you further into sleep. You felt him chuckle, chest rumbling with the vibration and he reach down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

"Out of ten?" He asks, keeping his hand placed delicately on your belly.

"Eight at least," you groan, your eyes closing as your toes twitch out of the intensity of the pain.

"Oookay, what can I do?" He asks, clearly a little freaked out by the high level of pain you admitted, knowing that it really must have been bad as you always had a high pain threshold.

"Just sit with me," you say, feeling depleted.

"Wanna go to bed or are you happy here?" He says after a few minutes. The heat from his hand has begun to feel redundant, your skin now the same temperature as his.

"Water bottle first?" You asked innocently, hopeful that he'd accommodate you. He presses another kiss to your head and tells you he'll bring it in before shoo'ing you into the bedroom where you sink down into the soft sheets, finally feeling comforted enough to close your eyes.

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #requests #period fic #Fred Weasley comfort fic #comfort fic

158 notes · View notes

eevees-hobbies · 2 months ago

Note

I’ve made my triumphant return from trying to get ready for university in the fall to bring you ✨this✨

Endo likes jerking off in front of you, but only if you’re playing with your pretty pussy while you watch him. He gets so caught up in watching the way your little hole clenches and drools for him. He can’t help turning it into a competition. His tattooed fist dragging up and down his cock faster and faster, while he leers down at you with a fucked out grin. It’s the one occasion he WANTS to finish you before you. And when he finally does cum, making a mess all over his own hand, he barely relishes in the high. Instead, he’s too busy racing to his place between your spread legs and swatting your hand away from your cunt so that he can slip his nut covered fingers inside. His lips mockingly form an “O” and he’s nodding condescendingly, “there ya go, sweetheart. Just what you needed, huh.” He can’t help trying to humiliate you as if he isn’t the one bordering on desperate for it as he briefly pulls his hand away to scoop up the left over cum from his spent cock- rambling about how you always take his cum so well as his soaked fingers return to your gummy insides and reach for the little spot only he can reach. It’s never long before you’re cumming with his help. Some days you go to bed, satiated and content with that load warming your pussy, but most of the time seeing you dozing off with your legs still spread and his seed slowly beginning to trickle out of your spent pussy has Endo’s dick twitching and he doesn’t let you off the hook until your cunt is swollen and he’s dumped at least two more loads into you.

ALTERNATIVELY could get a similar situation but in a different font with Togame (I’m biased. Everything I say could be about him), Kaji, Ume, KIRYUUUUUU and prolly sweet lil Sakura who’s fascinated and hooked after the first time you let him NUT inside of you (don’t ever say I did nothing for you after I used your cursed word twice)

Baaaaaaaaaby!

I finally crawled out of my hole in the ground last night and came across this in my inbox! How the FUCK did I miss this?! First of all, I'm happy to see you embracing the nut. Nut supremacy should be spread!

Secondly, I hope Uni is treating you well! I don't miss that life at all so I'm sending you FULL solidarity.

Also? This thirst?! I'm not an Endo girlie but I'm not too proud to admit that lines like, "His lips mockingly form an “O” and he’s nodding condescendingly, “there ya go, sweetheart. Just what you needed, huh.” fucking RUIN me.

Content Warning: NSFW below the cut! Written with Togame, Endo (oh god) or Sakura in mind. Somnophilia, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk. use of Daddy in a sexual way. Grammarly was not consulted, so I apologize if there are any errors. Minors Do Not Interact.

My brain turns off a little bit at the idea of Endo, Togame or Sakura finger fucking their nut back into you. Truly, it's an obsession watching the way it builds up around their knuckles as they push it in deeper into your already spent and quivering sex. Their brows furrow because fuck the sight is hot, and they just need to get a better angle so they can...push...just a little...more in.

They'd pull back to admire their handiwork, and then they'd get the best fucking idea; their cock could be way more efficient.

Sure, you passed out from creampie-induced exhaustion long ago, but this is something that you'd want, right? They'd settle between your thighs, their eyes flicking up to look at your adorable, unassuming sleeping self, and slowly drag the bulging, precum-dripping cock head against your sloppy cunt, already smearing the remnants of the previous session against your clit and labia.

They'd let out a shaky breath as they pushed inside of you. Their eyes rolling all the way fucking back into their skull.

Fuck, this is better, much better, he thinks as his balls already ache for release. His grip on your hips tightens to keep him from losing control too early (Togame would be fine, my jury is still out on Endo, I think he can bust quick but has the libido to be ready again if you spread those legs juuuust right for him, but sometimes Sakura gets so lost in the feeling that he's bursting too early for his liking).

Whatever dream you were having is cut far too short as you feel your body being manipulated in an unnatural way. Your chest feels heavy as you open your eyes and realize that lust-clouded eyes are looking down at you, your legs are pressed against your chest and crushing your tits against the top of your thighs in the process. His mouth is open in an o-shape as he takes in any bit of air to sustain his breathing to keep fucking his cute little incubator.

He's fucking you with so much force that your body is moving up the bed, your head hitting the headboard, and you can't help but wonder how long this has been going on because it feels way too good for it to have just started.

"Fuck, you're awake. Working on giving you another load, princess. Now look up at Daddy and smile while I give you what you deserve."

Any other person might be upset that their partner took to using them in their sleep, but not you, not his perverse, beautiful cumslut of a girl, and he adores that about you. His strong hand reaches down and grips your jaw as his mouth curls into a smirk.

"Look at me when I fill your needy cunt."

And the way you're clenching around him tells him that you're ready to receive more of him. His other hand finds the lower plush of your abdomen, and he pushes down so he can physically feel his cock twitch as he spurts his hot, potent seed into you. He gives you some more final thrusts for good fucking measure, making sure it's nice and deep for your aching, hungry, and fertile womb, and he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Such a good girl, princess. Again?"

#sakura thirst #endo x reader #togame smut #jo thirsts #jo togame #sakura haruka x reader #windbreaker smut #anon #not anon but my tags are a mess #my moot #i miss you bb #eevee talks

71 notes · View notes

many-but-one · 2 months ago

Text

I used to think I was endogenic and got hate for it. Then I became exactly like the people that bullied me. Thankfully, I’m not anymore.

So I’m gonna get on here and do one of my rare syscourse posts because I have been seeing an undeniable increase of hatred on my timeline simply because I follow the did/osdd tags.

Those of you that have been around a while and have seen our posts talking about this might recall this, but we used to be very firmly anti-endo. We consider ourselves endo neutral these days mainly because we just don’t care what other people do with their lives and it’s not up to me to fake claim them or tell them how to live their life. People like to be angry at endos for spreading misinfo, when I’ve seen anti-endos do the exact same thing. Quite often, actually.

One of the biggest reasons I was anti-endo was because I was angry. I was angry at the fact that people would claim they created their system for fun when my existence as a system was full of misery and pain. Fun fact, I’m still full of misery and pain, but I was taking it out on people I didn’t even know. I was angry that I didn’t get to choose this and they did. I was angry that they got to “have fun” with it while I suffered. I hated my disorder, I hated my system. I was so angry all the time. I went on rants. I was mean. I was full of hate.

Then as I went through the therapeutic process and learned to not only tolerate but actually love my system despite all of their faults and despite all of the ways the disorder made me miserable, I realized I cared a lot less about endos. It felt less like a slap in the face that they existed. I realized that me being angry was the root of why I disliked them so much. I realized that me being angry and hateful wasn’t actually helping anyone.

However, there’s something else I want to talk about. I’ve mentioned this vaguely from time to time, but I’ve never spoken that deeply about it.

I used to think I was endo. I joined system spaces online for the first time when I was about 16-17 years old. I was the host at that time (Jules, though they have fused with like a bazillion parts since then due to therapy so now I go by Delphine) and I was having experiences of a dissociative disorder. I was dissociative, I was having amnesia gaps, I was hearing voices in my head, and it was the first time I ever had a flashback (though I didn’t really understand that’s what it was at the time.) I met the first parts I ever spoke to directly back then, parts that don’t exist the same way today thanks to healing. S, A, and “The Bad Man” (father introject) were the first three parts that spoke to me. I knew by then I had DID. But I didn’t know my trauma. All I knew was that I may have witnessed some DV when I was really young (couldn’t remember it though, I just knew my mother was severely abused by my father) and that my dad was abusive to me as a teen. I didn’t even consider the fact that I couldn’t remember most of my childhood before the age of 10-11, and everything else in my life was spotty at best. I remembered a lot of my childhood! Or so I thought. I thought my childhood was completely fine except for my dad being a bit of a dick to me when I was a teenager.

So I thought I was endogenic. I knew that I hadn’t created these parts on purpose (though A stole her name from a fanfic I had read a few years prior so I thought that maybe I did make her up) so I thought maybe birth trauma had to do with it (I was born 9 weeks premature) or maybe I had formed my parts way later in life than normal since I’d always been a “late bloomer.” I tried making friends in the system community, to try and understand what was happening to me. I had genuine traumagenic DID, but I didn’t know it. As soon as I said I was endo to anyone I would be met with such extreme vitriol that I was chased away VERY quickly. I was told I was crazy, I was told I was faking a severe disorder for attention, I was told to kill myself, I was told that I am a terrible person and stealing resources from other systems, etc. It was really bad. I never spoke about it again. I deleted my entire system-related online presence. I believed I was a horrible faker, I was crazy, everything.

Meanwhile I was actively having nightmares of witnessing extreme child torture, I was having huge gaps in my memory, I was having random bouts of extreme suicidality and was self harming almost every day. I was dissociating off my ass, I barely even got through my junior year of high school. I missed so much school due to my mental health that the public school system almost took me to court to court-order me to go to school. I didn’t even try to talk about any of this to a therapist or counselor because I was certain that I had been faking the DID and that I was actually just crazy and I didn’t want to steal resources from “actual systems.” I had multiple suicide attempts. I didn’t get help until my school ordered me to go to the mental ward and then was assigned a therapist shortly after. Then I jumped from therapist to therapist, one of which said that I must be bipolar due to my mood swings. I was misdiagnosed as bipolar I for years. Years.

Years that I could have been trying to heal from DID taken from me because I was so heavily bullied for thinking I was endogenic. I was completely convinced I had bipolar and I must have just been having a psychotic episode every time I was hearing voices or acting strangely.

I was diagnosed with DID at age 22, just a month or so shy from my 23rd birthday. I went 6 years thinking I was crazy and delusional because of the system community. The worst part? I let my anger get to me and I became exactly like them. A little less intense, definitely didn’t tell people to kts or call them names or anything, but I was angry. Angry at the fact that I’d been a system all this time, angry that it had affected my life for so long, angry that endos “made a mockery” of what the disorder actually was. Then as mentioned previously, I was able to get over that anger. It makes me incredibly sad that I used to be so vitriolic and bitter and that could have seriously impacted a system who was in the same situation I was.

This is not to say that all endos are actually systems who don’t know their trauma. Some of them are genuinely endo, and I don’t really care about that. However, there is no person on the internet who can truly decipher whether or not an endo is a traumagenic system who just doesn’t know their trauma or who is non-traumagenic. I genuinely thought with my whole chest that I had no trauma and that whatever trauma I might have had was nowhere near serious enough to cause a system, so I must be endo, right?

*Loud, incorrect buzzer noise*

Turns out I have RAMCOA related traumas and my system is made up of thousands of parts. I didn’t just have trauma, I had Trauma. Years and years of extreme and extensive child torture were hidden so well that I couldn’t have even begun to guess that’s what my trauma history was, even after I was finally diagnosed. (Though I should’ve known with how intense our gatekeeper was about never telling me Anything)

Moral of the story here is this:

Please consider that the endos you speak badly about could be traumagenic systems. And you would never know. Behind the screen they could be showing clear signs of a dissociative disorder, but you wouldn’t know unless they specifically described such experiences—and nobody is entitled to hearing about other people’s personal experiences or struggles. I didn’t get the help nor the community I desperately needed back then, a teen who felt like their life was turned upside down and shaken about at all times.

Be kind. Stop hating other people for stuff like this. It matters so, so little in the grand scheme of things. These internet dramas are so chronically online that nobody in the irl world would even begin to comprehend it. It doesn’t matter as much as you think it does. But what does matter is how you treat others, because that sticks with people forever.

That’s all I’ve got. Thank you, everyone.

#don’t debate with me I don’t wanna hear it #I’ve never shared the full story of when I thought I was endo bc I was scared of the backlash #—> me realizing that I’m scared of the backlash now bc of the backlash I got then and I gotta be brave and say my piece anyway #people being mean will be blocked <3 #manybutone #personal post #syscourse #tw ramcoa #tw suicide #tw self harm #tw child abuse #tw torture

60 notes · View notes

briefhottubcoffee · 4 months ago

Text

Hey so I love spyxfamily, yet I have some issues with the pacing lately. I miss The Forgers like crazy and I am desperate for more Yor content. I suppose that’s what I’m most worried about, she’s not getting fleshed out enough and being used to her full potential. She’s such an amazing character!

That said, I do have complete faith in Endos storytelling capabilities. He’s created a truly amazing story with compelling characters (side characters included) awesome world building, and both light and dark themes. I think, in pointing out the slow pacing and lack of the Forgers recently, we’ve forgotten all the awesome directions the story can take with all the different plot points Endo has set up at this juncture of the story.

I feel like, based on the narrative, the story is about to reach a big climax, a change in the status quo for the Forgers. Exciting things have happened, but nothing has truly changed the status quo, or the relationship dynamics between the main characters. Since we have reached 100 chapters, and the way the narrative is propelling upward, I think we are due for a big shift. Not the biggest, but a change for sure. Just remember all that’s been set up! Here are a few things I’m fairly confident is gonna happen soon to the Forger’s in the story:

Manga spoilers obviously!

- Twilight is going to continue to try to distance himself from the family, because of the Wheeler stuff, but he will be challenged on that and face a work vs family thing. This is a big theme of the series obviously, and it will take a lot to break down his walls. But it will happen.

- Twilight will learn something about Anya’s past. Most likely related to her knowledge of classical language. Perhaps her history with other families or where she is from. I doubt he’ll learn about her mind reading, that would be huge, but I’m honestly kinda hopeful he does because I don’t want Anya to have to hide anymore. Whatever he learns will affect him and hopefully bring him and his daughter closer in the end.

- This means we will finally get the Anya backstory Endo’s been hinting at for a while! Again, I expect this to lead up to a sweet family moment that brings them closer.

- A new Yor arc. We are truly due for one and I don’t think Endo is ignoring her purposefully. It just may take a while to set up because it will be a big climax of the story. Perhaps Garden lore. A big assassination that affects her character or the plot.

- Yor will get closer with Melinda and maybe find out what the heck is going on concerning her relationship with the other Desmond’s.

- As this happens I think Garden will come into play. I don’t think they like the Desmond pro war agenda. Yor may report her findings from Melinda to them or something. This would be a continuation into that one panel of the Shopkeeper when Yor brought up that Loid was interested in their politics. They will start questioning Yor’s husband as well.

- Damian will confirm Anya can read minds, but will keep her secret. Maybe Becky finds out as well. Dimitri will come into play somehow. I would love to see Damian stop bullying Anya so severely and truly start treating her like a friend, while still struggling with his crush.

- Some Authen’s chapters with some information on their backstory. Are they related to Anya’s mind reading stuff?

- We were recently introduced to Chloe! Yuri’s co-worker and potential romantic interest. I think we will see more of Yuri x Chloe. This will hopefully help him in his crazy obsession with Yor lol.

- Yuri maaay become more suspicious Loid is Twilight (a reach I think). He may also start to like Loid more! (an even bigger reach lol).

- BUT I do think Endo is setting up a funny chapter where Yuri has to stay over and Loid and Yor will have to share a bed! That’s been hinted at several times!

- I also think we are leading up to a big moment between Twilight and Yor. Some type of physical affection. (I’d love a hug, but I’ll take some erotic hand holding once they’re forced to share a bed or something) It’s not a reach, the setup is there for a shift in their physical relationship. This will obviously change things between them. Again, Twilight will be confronted with his feelings after the Wheeler arc and struggle with his feelings for Yor.

- Yor is definitely going to realize she is in love with Loid.

- Finally, after the Wheeler arc, Handler gave Fiona some important patient files for Twilight. I think this will lead to a big break for Strix. He may also meet Melinda as Loid Forger in this capacity.

So yeah, based on basic narrative storytelling, we are due for a climax and change in status quo in sxf! I’m excited to see which way the story goes, there are so many different directions. I’m confident some of these points will happen sooner rather than later. Of course Endo could throw us for a huge loop. But he has setup all of these points and it’s bad storytelling to leave them open ended with no closure or shift in the story.

We have to remember Endo is setting up a truly big story! We should be excited about that. I think it’s fine to criticize the slow pacing (and lack of Yor) but I can only hope it is just building to something big!

#spy x family #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #donovan desmond #damian desmond #melinda desmond #yuri briar #twiyor #gonna read through the manga again #I just love it #I also like to read in big chunks #the biweekly one chapter release can really affect the pacing #spy x family manga #spy x family manga spoilers

98 notes · View notes

skendos · 25 days ago

Text

♡︎ Rate my boyfriend ♡︎

Chika Takiishi

Chika Takiishi is a beautifully complex soul.

As this arc comes to a close, we have watched him develop from a person who views those around him as either objects whose sole purpose is to serve him, or those who get in his way and need to be eliminated.

Following this development, Chika has finally acknowledged that it is okay to see people for what they are, and for what they mean to him.

Change is coming for Chika! And if those kind eyes and efforts to make people feel seen are anything to go off, then I think we have a total sweetheart on our hands!

Here are my trope, ratings and relationship headcanons for the blazing inferno 💖

cw: slightly mean chika (he’s learning🥺), kinda angsty if you squint, slight mentions of anxiety, panic attacks and fighting. this post is way longer than i intended it to be, so it isn't proofread. when will i ever learn to stop waffling

Trope - Acquaintances to lovers!

♡︎ Okay, hear me out! Chika and you go waaaay back, and not necessarily in the best way! So instead of childhood friends to lovers, let’s call it acquaintances!

♡︎ You first meet in your first year of your new middle school, whilst he was in the grade above.

Despite having been at this school for a few weeks now - you were still the quiet and anxious kid, and making friends was proving to be a little difficult.

With the schools cafeteria being full to the brim during lunchtime, you often found yourself taking your lunch to the rooftop and eating alone whilst enjoying the view. It wasn’t that bad.

On a particularly bright spring day, the blazing sunshine cast an especially beautiful golden hue across the vibrant pink cherry blossom trees below, creating a contrast so pretty that it was just too difficult to pull your eyes away. So you just stood there, in silence and admiring the tranquil serenity of the moment.

“Get out of my way.” A monotone voice drones out from behind you, making you jump and turn around to face its source, quickly snapping you back to reality.

Your curious gaze is met with a pair of seemingly lifeless but simply captivating, golden eyes. They show no emotion, there’s no depth to them. His short hair is a deep yet bright red, not quite like anything you had seen before. Still, you find yourself offering the boy a bright smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you guys coming over,” you say, motioning to the slightly taller, black haired boy, who didn’t say anything but offered you a small grin.

The boy in front of you doesn’t say anything, but he tilts his head ever so slightly and blinks, never breaking eye contact. It makes your heart race. Why are you feeling nervous?

You clear your throat.

“Anyway, sorry. I guess I just kinda zoned out. How long were you there for?” You start firing off, attempting to connect with him.

“Ah.. I’m sorry, you don’t know who I am. That was rude of me, huh? My name is y/n y/l/n and I’m-“

“You’re in my way.” The boy huffs, still never breaking eye contact with you.

Your mouth opens and closes for a moment, not quite able to form any words just yet. “R-right, yeah s-sorry about that,” you manage to stutter. “I just thought that-“

“I’m not interested.” He steps around you, walking away without so much as a glance back in your direction. “Just don’t get in my way.”

You blink at his retreating frame in confusion. What the hell just happened? Asshole!

“Heh, sorry ‘bout that. Chika’s like that. Seeya later!” The taller boy tells you quietly, before jogging over to his friend.

What was that all about?

And so, this became a common occurrence for the rest of your middle school days. You continued to eat your lunch on the rooftop (despiste your initial anxiety of another run in with Chika) and on the days that they were also there, you would try your hardest to stay at the opposite side. Wouldn’t want to get in his way, right?

Occasionally, the other boy who you came to know as Yamato Endo would ask if you were having a good day, or if you were enjoying your lunch, but he mostly just kept to himself. Or more so, kept to Chika. Usually bringing him food and really nice treats, even though he was always dismissed by the mysterious boy. It was a weird dynamic you thought, and not something that you would want to comment on.

After all, Chika still hates when people get in his way. He’s made that clear a few times by shamelessly throwing punches at Endo’s face when he got a bit too close to his ‘friend’.

Eventually, it was time for the boys to graduate middle school, and you spent your lunchtimes during your final year alone on the rooftop, before graduating yourself and attending a new high school on the other side of town, where you met your best friends.

You still thought of Chika and Endo quite frequently during your high school days. You’d heard through your friend who was dating a guy from Furin High, that they also attended the same school.

And that Chika was the strongest. Not that this came of any surprise to you.

The rest of your high school years passed within the blink of an eye. Time flies when you’re having fun, right? And before you knew it, you were working in family’s very successful bar and restaurant.

You had found yourself a cute little apartment in in town, and a cute little cat to make it home. You were happy, you’d made it.

It was a cold, dark, rainy Tuesday evening in October. The restaurant had been relatively quiet tonight, so you instructed your Aunt to go home early, giving the older lady a chance to catch up on some much needed sleep whilst you finished cleaning up and closing.

You’re busy with cleaning a table when you feel a cold chill from the door and hear footfalls entering the restaurant.

“Good evening!” You call cheerfully, still wiping down the table, not turning around. “Sorry, I’ll be with you in just a moment. I wasn’t expecting anybody else to come in tonight, you know? It sure is cold outsi-“

“Y/n y/l/n”

You freeze for a split second, before whipping around.

Suddenly, you’re face to face with him. Or, more accurately, face to chest. He was for sure a hell of a lot taller now than he was back then. The one that shut you down and told you not to get in his way 10 years ago. How does he remember your name?

He was so similar, yet so different. His short red hair was now styled into a long mullet, which was ombréd into a golden-yellow colour the further the length. It was wet, and the front fell over his face like bangs. Was he out in the rain for a while? Had he just taken a bath?

The most noticeable change for you however, was his eyes.

Those eyes that were once emotionless, hard and lifeless, were now glowing and shining. A deep golden colour with so much depth to them.

You took him all in, unable to form any words. He blinks down at you as you gaze at him with wide eyes, tilting his head ever so slightly, the same way he did on the rooftop at school, way back when.

“I- sorry, Chika. Am I in your way?” You say quickly, stumbling as quick as you can to stand up straight and take a step back.

A step which he quickly dismisses by taking another one closer to you, still holding eye contact and shaking his head no. Wait, no?

“Y/n y/l/n...” He repeats. Almost like he’s testing the taste of your name in his mouth.

“Are…you okay, Chika?” You question, the confusion blatantly evident in your tone.

“I think you’re interesting, y/n. Can I… stay for a while? I want to know you.” He sounds different. Pleasant, even.

Something about this exchange made your heart race. The same way it did on the rooftop when you first met.

Something is evident in his expression, the kindness in his eyes. Hopefulness.

You flash him that same bright smile. The one that hasn’t changed. The one he hasn’t been able to get out of his head for the past 10 years.

“Yeah! Okay, yeah! Let’s catch up. You go grab a table and I’ll be right there.” You say, heading over to the bar to grab a drink for the both of you.

There’s one thing extremely obvious in the way you’re feeling right now. Bashful excitement. So much excitement for what the future may hold for yourself and the handsome acquaintance from your school days.

And the rest - sweet sweet history 💖

Affection - 6/10

♡︎ I swear, he’s working on it! And he’s doing a damn good job too!

♡︎ After all, you are his first ever relationship. His first ever crush, the first person he’s ever been serious about. He’s new to this!

♡︎ Chika isn't big on PDA, or clinginess in general, but you bet that he's always going to be close by. He's very observant, and is more than happy to show you little signs of affection should he believe you need it.

♡︎ Had a long, hard day at work? He's joining you on the couch or in bed and pulling you into him, letting you rest your sweet head on his chest while he wraps a strong arm around you. His lack of words don't mean anything here. You always feel so special in these moments.

Got cramps? He's fetching you a fluffy blanket and a hot water bottle, letting you get comfy and gently stroking through your hair, or holding your hand gently stroking your skin tenderly with his thumb. He hates to see you hurting, and silently wishes he could take it away from you.

Thunderstorm outside? He notices you flinch as the thunder gets louder, and then lightening gets brighter. He watches you attentively as you try your hardest to ignore the storm and focus your attention on the TV instead. Though, after a particularly loud clap of thunder and a flash of lightening that caused your apartment to shut down into complete darkness, your composure crumbles and your boyfriend notices your rapidly increasing breathing.

He switches on the torch on his phone, and places it face down on the coffee table in front of you, lighting up room the best he can. He kneels down on the floor directly in front of you and takes your face in his hands, firmly yet so so gently. "Hey. Look at me y/n. Please, look at me." He instructs, never letting go.

Chika's heart physically hurts as you open your eyes that were previously screwed shut tightly. From the light emitting from his phone behind him, he can see the fear in your expression, and the tears gathering in your waterline. You were terrified of the storm.

Without wasting another second, he climbs back up onto the couch to join you, pulling you into him as close as humanly possible and wrapping both arms around you as tightly as he can. "Breathe, y/n. It's alright." His words are comforting, and you feel so protected in his hold.

He proceeds to talk to you throughout the remainder of the storm, until the power returned to your apartment. He talked to you about your relationship. About how he saw a cat on the street when he was on his way over that he stopped to pet, because he knows that you would never pass a cat without saying hello first.

It brought him so much relief to hear you giggle at his words. Seeing you scared was the worst thing ever for him. He wants to bundle you up into his embrace forever, protecting you against everything bad in the world.

Jealousy - 1/10

♡︎ Because WHAT DOES HE HAVE TO BE JEALOUS ABOUT? You've been captivated by his beauty forever! He's yours and you're his.

♡︎ Your relationship dynamic with Chika is very much sunshine x sunshine protector. Yapper x listener. Sunshine x midnight rain, if you will. He is well aware of how you feel for him, and he knows fine well that he trusts you wholeheartedly, as you do him, too.

Protectiveness - 11/10

♡︎ As much as Chika isn't a jealous partner, he sure as HELL is a protective one.

♡︎ A customer is rude to you at work? Uh-oh.. Chika is cornering them the first chance he gets and promising them that if they don't go back and apologise immediately, then he's beating their ass no questions asked.

♡︎ If he even dares catches wind that some scumbag was trying to force his slimy self upon you, after having been told that you aren't interested and that you have a boyfriend... Let's just say that Chika went out with Endo for a few hours that night. And the guy was seen by your friend the following day, packing his belongings into a moving van, battered and bruised.

Love Language - Quality Time

♡︎ Listen up! We all know that Chika is a man of very few words, and that's perfectly okay!

♡︎ Despite him not being very talkative, he absolutely adores silence in your presence. One of his most favourite activities is hanging out with you at your place (or his), and just being there with you whilst you do your own thing.

♡︎ Chika scrolls through his phone whilst you yap about your day, or about your friends, or about a tiktok you had watched of a cute cat. To anyone else, it would seem as though he's paying no attention to you as you talk and talk and talk. But, you know him well enough to know that he's taking in every single word you say.

♡︎ Chika loves date nights with you, his favourite ones being quiet ones.

Stargazing on a warm summers night, lying on a blanket with you staring up at the sky, listening to you lovingly as you tell him about constellations, moon stages and when you excitedly point out every shooting star you see.

Movie nights, spent with you on the couch. You're both facing the TV and he has his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, his hand on your knee, rubbing gently with his thumb. He listens to you as you ask a million questions despite neither of you having watched this movie before. He lifts his head up, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek, before returning to his previous resting position and pulling you impossibly closer to him.

Oh yeah, that boy is so in love with you.

Skyla's note: Gosh! Well this was originally supposed to be a short list of headcanons that I was gonna write up and post this morning buttttt I did a whoopsie and got carried away! I will surely be doing this again with different characters! I well and truly adore this character. It's been so fulfilling watching him develop and open his heart the way he has. I hope we see him again at Ume's summer barbecue! Thank you so much to my best friends @kyuuyomii and @sunnyangy for inspiring me to be here and do this! I had so much fun writing this and it's all thanks to you two! I love you both very much!

#sk.writes!#windbreaker #chika takiishi #chika takiishi headcanons #chika takiishi x reader #windbreaker x reader #this ended up so much longer than it was meant to #smh

42 notes · View notes

blessedbucky · 4 months ago

Text

we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 3)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: ........14k? oops?

summary: a glimpse at your first year in tokyo jujutsu high

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, bisexual!reader, bisexual!suguru, ableism, internalized ableism, mentioned child abuse, light bullying, satoru has some identity issues, actually EVERYONE has identity issues here, jealous and protective boys, JJK typical violence

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again

author note: um.....so....this was meant to be all three of the high school years in one chapter........but i lost control of the plot. and here we are...FOURTEEN THOUSAND WORDS LATER...and THIS WAS ONLY THE FIRST YEAR of them in high school? help me.

translation note: jiheishō is the japanese term for autism

chapter links: ONE, TWO, AO3

[YEAR ONE.]

Graduation comes.

Finally.

In the months since you and Suguru were offered scholarships with Jujutsu High, word slowly spread around the school. Suguru and you have to sit on the roof for lunches to escape your growing popularity. You have no idea why these people have started to crawl out of the woodworks, but Suguru said he kind of expected it. It’s not only you two that want out of the village and you two are going to live the life that everyone else dreams of. They think they can worm their way into your lives now and leech off any future success or have an in inside Tokyo.

Still, you can’t believe how many addresses and phone numbers you’re given. There are a few that you keep, people from the art club that you joined who have always been cordial enough to you. You felt a little obligated because they pitched in to buy you a relatively nice art supply kit to continue your craft in Tokyo. The rest of the contact information is tossed in the trash, some right in front of their faces out of spite.

Meanwhile, Suguru is almost suspended.

No one can prove that Nakayama Izuru was attacked by Suguru, though. It’s not possible for a human to leave the claw marks on Nakayama’s arms. You can only imagine that saccharine smile that Suguru was wearing when he told the school staff that he saw a tanuki attack Nakayama. The only crime he committed was not getting help sooner and, for that, he apologized. Nakayama himself even admitted that he didn’t see anything or that Suguru didn’t put hands on him, but he knows Suguru was responsible somehow.

You, obviously, know better.

“Idiot,” you hiss when you and Suguru are at your usual afterschool hangout spot by the river. “That wasn’t very heroic of you. It could’ve costed you your scholarship if word got back to Tokyo.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t even that bad. A cat could’ve done more damage than I did.”

You sigh. “I know we’ve always teased people with your collection, but we’ve never drawn blood. You don’t like him, never have, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” You throw a rock, trying to get it to skip across the water, but it just gives a sad plop and sinks. “What happened?”

“Remember when you and Endo got in that fight a few months ago?” You nod slowly. “It was something like that.” He’s not looking at you, but his rage still lingers. He’s usually good at skipping rocks, but not today. “Which means you can’t judge me because if you knew how to fight, you definitely would’ve. Don’t even try to pretend you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, but I suck at keeping my mouth shut and can’t control my emotions for shit. I know I’m gonna struggle when we start high school because of that.” This isn’t a scolding. You’re just really worried because, “You’re good at letting that stuff roll off you.”

Suguru’s frown deepens. “Not about you.” If it wasn’t so quiet here, you’d have missed him whisper, “Never about you.”

“People have made fun of me before.”

“It’s different.” He presses a thumb against his forehead. “Can we drop this?”

“Well, I kinda want to know what he said. I told you what Endo said, didn’t I?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Suguru,” you sing. “I’ll keep asking. Don’t I have a right to know?”

“I was trying to be polite.” His eye is twitching irritably. “He said that he never noticed until now how nice your tits are. The nicest in our class.” You burst out in a fit of laughter. A vein throbs at his temple. Maybe this is why he didn’t want to say anything. “It’s not funny, Squid. It was disgusting. He tried to act buddy-buddy with me while I was waiting for you to get done with art club. He wanted to know if you were still a virgin or not.”

You shake your head, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “Nakayama thinks because his father owns the biggest farm that he’s worth something. Not even Endo would date him and she’s the most popular girl in school.” You crouch down to rummage for some skipping stones. “Hey, if we’re still virgins by the end of high school, want to take each other’s virginities?”

It’s like all the fight rushes out of him, the way Suguru sighs and how his shoulders slump in defeat. “You shouldn’t say things like that.” His neck, the tips of his ears, his entire face…it’s all so red. It’s rare to find, but there are some things that go too far. You open your mouth to apologize, but he interrupts. “You promise?”

“I promise.” You give one of the stones you find a few tosses, making sure it’s light enough. “I kind of always thought it would be you, anyway. Now that we’re leaving the village, you’ll get super popular at this new school, so I doubt you’ll be single by the time we graduate, but this is on the off chance that you are.” He tilts his head back, staring up at the skies. That’s his existential crisis face. “I’m sorry. Was that too far?”

“I always thought it would be you, too,” he admits quietly. “I guess…you’re making it sound so transactional.”

Right. Girls say that the first time is supposed to be special. “I can try to make it special for you, if it happens. I don’t really understand what special means, but I’ll try.”

Suguru shakes himself out of his thoughts. “I’ll make it special, don’t worry.”

“Don’t think about it too much. You’ll definitely get a boyfriend or girlfriend.”

“It could be the other way around, y’know.”

You scoff. “Where we’re going…seeing the spirits is normal. So, everyone there will be normal. That’s when my weirdness is really going to shine. You’re used to it. Do you think someone is willingly going to deal with my stupid habits and quirks? How do I even explain to another person that even seeing cotton balls makes my teeth hurt?” You shake your head. “I’m already high enough maintenance for you and you’re my best friend. It’d be worse for a boyfriend or girlfriend, wouldn’t it?”

Suguru says your name. You look over at him and he’s sad. “You’re not high maintenance.”

“You’re my best friend. You’re obligated to say that.”

“No, I’m not. You know I’m honest with you. Would you like an example of my honesty? Here’s one—you’re so blind that, sometimes, it amazes me.”

You throw a rock at the vicinity of his feet. He moves to dodge it. “Rude.”

***

Non-sorcerer students are required to move on campus two weeks before school starts. There will be some informal classes on the most basic of jujutsu basics to give you somewhat a foundation. In yours and Suguru’s cases, Yaga lies to both your parents and has someone come pick you and your things up three weeks before school starts.

At the nearest relatively big city, Yaga makes the driver stop. He practically shoves food down your throats, lecturing the entire time about the importance of eating to make up for the massive amounts of energy that you’ll be burning by using cursed energy and fighting spirits.

Then, he forces you both to choose cell phones.

You and Suguru, obviously from very humble means, protest. None of them are cheap. Yaga shuts you down and declares this as yet another requirement. Essentially, you’ll always be on-call, especially as you become a more seasoned sorcerer. You need a way to communicate with others and be communicated with in return. Yaga mutters something under his breath before he heads outside to take a smoke break with the driver.

“He’ll probably yell at us if we go for the cheapest thing,” Suguru mutters as he looks around the store.

“Something in the middle, then,” you agree.

In your defense, you do get something that’s not the most expensive. There wasn’t any mention about the design or color. It called to you, okay? You could take or leave the color, but the almost metallic shine of it. It’s so sleek and smooth. The number keys are nearly flat and it’s satisfying to run your fingers over the slight bump of them.

Yaga doesn’t even bat an eye when you hand over the hot pink flip phone. He simply takes what you’ve chosen, takes Suguru’s chunky option, and goes to the counter to pay for them and set up your new numbers. You and Suguru stand there, almost with bated breath.

It’s hard to believe that the school is investing so much money into you both already. Yaga didn’t even mention this coming out of your monthly stipend. A stipend, by the way, that you and Suguru weren’t aware of until you were on the road. You’d asked if you needed to tell your parents because that seemed like a pretty important thing for Yaga to forget. Yaga had shrugged and, casual as anything, said, “it’s your money now. Tell whoever you want about it.”

And, as easy as it was then for him, it is now because Yaga hands you your phones back, numbers on some paperwork, and that’s it. He walks out of the store and gets in the car. You and Suguru share a look of disbelief before you scramble to follow after him and climb in the back of the car.

It’s still a drive to a train station that will take you the rest of the way to Tokyo. The driver turns the music up. You and Suguru immediately duck your heads down, heads knocking together, voices hushed as you marvel over your new phones. You can’t stop rubbing your thumb over the smooth surface. Suguru isn’t the type to get distracted by something like texture, so he’s already clicking through it to add your phone number.

“Add me,” he demands. “What? Were you blinded by that gaudy color?”

“Like you have room to talk,” you shoot right back at him. “That’s got a MP3 built into it.”

“Are you the only one here that can be an enjoyer of the arts?”

“You could’ve kept using the radio.” You’re already a little sad. It’s a favorite pastime—you and Suguru, sprawled out on the floor, listening to the radio. Maybe you can save up for one. “Whatever. You better share the headphones whenever you figure out how to put music on that thing.”

“You better use your phone as a SOS if we’re ever lost.”

The only response to that is your harrumph and grabbing your backpack off the floor. Suguru goes back to his phone as you pull out your pencil and sketchbook. It’s a bumpy road. You already have a sketch of Hong, but maybe you’ll just do another rough one to fill the time. You flip through the pages upon pages of new and old cursed spirits that Suguru now holds, trying to find an open spot. There’s not much room left. Mother hates to buy you sketchbooks, seeing it as indulging your abnormality.

“You’re a talented artist,” Yaga commends. You pull the sketchbook against your chest instinctively. Yaga doesn’t acknowledge the action. Just asks, “Are those the cursed spirits that you’ve seen?” You lower the sketchbook back down in your lap, nodding shyly. “May I?”

You usually hide your sketchbook away from the eyes of others because classmates and adults were easily disturbed by what they thought were figments of your imagination. It’s going to take time to get over this surrealism that comes from everyone seeing the things you can and treating it as if it’s normal. So, you hesitantly hold out your sketchbook for him to take. You’re nervous as you watch him flip through the pages.

“These notes…you study them?” Yaga correctly assumes.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Um…they can’t see me unless I want them to,” you explain slowly. “I can make them calm, too.”

“How have you been destroying them?”

“We don’t,” Suguru answers on your behalf. “I eat them.”

Yaga’s eyes widen. “You…eat them?”

“Maybe a better way to say it is that I absorb them,” Suguru corrects. “After that, I can summon them whenever I want.”

Yaga tries to hide it, but he seems…shaken. He glances back down at your sketchbook, quickly thumbing through the pages. “Is this all that you’ve taken down together? Is this how many you’ve swallowed, Geto?”

Suguru takes the sketchbook back from Yaga. Suguru is a lot more familiar with your sketches, but he skims through the pages once again. “I think this is about right,” he finally answers Yaga. “There might be more in my arsenal. Sometimes, we find spirits on our own or she doesn’t want to sketch whatever we find.”

“Right.” Yaga is nodding to himself. “We’ll explore your individual techniques more when the term starts.”

***

You’re allowed a few days to unpack and acquaint yourselves with campus before you’re taken to be fitted for your new school uniforms.

“Whatever I want?”

The tailor nods. “It’s important that you be comfortable and be in clothes that are easy for you to move in. It goes without saying that you’re a representation of the school, so you can’t be indecent, but that is your only condition,” she explains. “I’ll check-in with you after your first assignment to make sure your uniform doesn’t need any further adjustments. Also, the uniform expenses aren’t deducted from your stipend. This is on the school’s budget.”

The second that the tailor shows you the standard uniform, you turn your nose up at it. You rub the fabric between your fingers, examining it critically. The fabric, you think you could deal with, but if you can throw out the blazer then you’ll immediately jump on that chance. You’ve always preferred baggy clothes, so you shop a size or two too large. Your mother never complained because that meant your clothes lasted longer. So, you think about your wardrobe. Think about what your go-to clothes are when you’re not in a stiff school uniform.

After giving it some thought while your measurements are taken, you decide on a skirt, thin tights, and a hooded sweatshirt.

It’s an outfit that you can justify. The skirt will allow for freer movement. Tights, if they’re thin enough fabric, don’t really bother you because they’re like a second skin. The sweatshirt won’t have the same restrictive sleeves that the blazer does. Lastly, if you’re overwhelmed after assignments then you can hide under your hood.

The tailor accepts the design and tells you that she’ll call when the uniform is ready.

You’re thankful that Suguru is so tall because you’d have panicked otherwise if you stepped outside the tailor shop and couldn’t see him in front of a shop across the street. Your brows raise when you see that it’s a small tattoo shop. Outside the door, there’s a binder on a stand that must have their services and examples from their portfolio. Suguru isn’t looking at the tattoos. No, he seems to be carefully considering the section with ear piercings.

And, honestly, you’re not surprised.

“That school trip to Osorezan really left an impression on you, huh?”

It’d been the first year of middle school that your class went on a trip to Osorezan, believed to be the entrance to the afterlife. It was a religious, historical, and scientific field trip all wrapped into one since the Bodaiji temple is inside the caldera of an active volcano. The high amounts of sulfur gave the waters varying shades of blue. The land was gray and barren. But there was also a hot spring. Statues were littered around the area to represent the souls of the dead.

Just going off the limited knowledge that Yaga gave you, it makes sense that there were so many cursed spirits there. It’s a place of reverence, sure, but people probably go there out of desperation, too. On some level, it might be feared—whether because of the lore or the volcano near it.

It was an overnight trip. You and Suguru hadn’t slept a fucking wink. It was amazing. You’d adored it because of the nature and science. Suguru fell in love with the history and spirituality.

“Shut up.” The tips of his ears are red. “The tailor said there’s no dress code. Yaga said the only rule is to not bring too much attention to the school.” He rubs at his ear lobe. “It looks really cool, doesn’t it?”

“I think you’re being a stereotypical smalltown kid that’s going wild in the big city,” you deadpan.

“Well, I’m doing it. If it bothers you so much then stay out here,” he says primly.

You’ve started to flip through the pages of piercings. “No, no.” There’s one thing that caught your eye. You touch the picture of a tongue piercing. “Just think it’s a little funny that as soon as your feet stepped down in Tokyo, you went running.” Do your eyes glaze over when you think about running the little metal ball of a piercing across your teeth? Maybe. “I want this one.”

“Eh? I’m just getting gauges. You’re getting way wilder than me. You understand that, right?” Suguru is grinning as he grabs your wrist. “Let’s go.”

***

A week later, your tongue has healed enough that you finally learn to talk around it. Just as you suspected, the urge to roll it between your teeth is hard to pin down while you let it fully heal. It’ll be another three to five weeks. Yaga never said a word about it when you both showed up to a classroom the next day. All he did was throw some textbooks at you both and got to lecturing.

You guess you need to start thinking of him as sensei.

Suguru talks about you being a huge nerd, but he’s the one that’s in the school library, trying to dive deeper into…everything that you’ve learned, basically. Despite the fact that you’ll be spending the next three years gaining more knowledge about the jujutsu world. He’s always been like that—impatient when he’s eager. Well…maybe he picked that up from you.

Anyway, you left him behind to enjoy the weather and view. If you’re not with Suguru, you’re enjoying the view. The campus is nestled on a mountain outside Tokyo. It’s got the kind of scenery that inspires a person. This is the first time, probably ever, that you draw things that are not cursed spirits. That’s what you’re doing now. You have an urge to draw the contrast of the bright red torii gate against the lush, green foliage.

You almost lose your art supplies to gravity when someone rushes in front of you. Not that you’d say anything, but you can send them a shitty look. You’re a little more forgiving when you see their vision is blocked by a big box. Another person follows with another equally big box follows after that person. You blink and look in the direction of where they’re coming from.

A group has made their way to the top of the staircase that leads up to the school.

They are…very bright.

Almost everyone in the small group has blinding white hair and blue eyes. Not only that, but they are also dressed in traditional clothes that you know are expensive. The colors are vibrant. Just from here, you can tell just one of those kimonos probably costs more than your childhood house. Every woman in the group has a gold kanzashi in their hair with a dangling charm in the form of a…is that a dragonfly?

Off to the side of this group, though, is a boy your age. Same white hair and blue eyes, yes, but he’s dressed so casually that it’s almost obscene next to the rest of his people. Just a white shirt, pair of basketball shorts, and some sneakers. Thismust be one of your two classmates. Yaga said there would be another boy and girl enrolling. And…he must be moving on campus early. You wonder why. Clearly, those people are his family and they’re loaded. Why on earth would he want to leave home early?

The classmate stops and turns to stare at you dead-on. Don’t come over here, don’t come over here, don’t come over here, you silently plead. You weren’t prepared to deal with other people yet. It’s still a new place and new information is constantly getting thrown at you and you just don’t have the mental energy to deal with strangers.

Fate is not on your side, though, and your classmate closes the distance between you and him.

You’re wary when he’s right in front of you. If you weren’t desensitized by Suguru, this guy’s height would definitely intimidate you a lot more. You’re still nervous which could be because he’s really close to you physically. Your body tenses, instinctively preparing for unwanted touch.

“Show me around.”

“Huh?”

“Show me around,” he repeats.

Okay. You’re not sure what you expected. Normally, people give a little context when you question what they say. “I’m new, too. Our sensei is here, though. His name is Yaga.” You tilt your head slightly. “I can go grab him instead.”

“I asked you. You’re one of those shy types, right? Probably not good with talking to hot guys? I figure you won’t talk while we walk around the place.” He says all that…so casually. “I’ve had that hag back there in my ear all day. I got a headache. If you wanna keep talking, though, I’ll just go find someone else.”

“The only other person here will tell you to fuck off if you go around making demands like this,” you state bluntly. Actually, you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up punching this guy in the nose. “Look, I come off as rude, too, but you should maybe think a little longer before you speak.” Oh, no. You sounded like Suguru just now.

The guy squints at you. “Who the hell are you? Where you from? Do you not know who I am?”

Oh. Yaga warned you and Suguru about this in a roundabout way. The jujutsu world is super traditional. There are these three clans that have been around for hundreds and hundreds of years, so they’re really respected. They’re competitive with each other and try to pump out more talented sorcerers. They tend to turn their nose up at people like you and Suguru who have no hint of sorcery in your family or ancestry.

You give him your name, the prefecture you came from, and then answer with a curt, “No, I don’t know who you are. Should I?”

He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “So…you’re a hick. That’s what your deal is?” Hmm, well, he’s technically not wrong about that. “Whatever. I’m Gojo Satoru. You can ask the Yaga guy about how important I am later. Can we go now?”

You could not follow Gojo when he walks past you, but his…family or whatever is taking up the space that you were going to use for your art. Also, you can sympathize with needing an excuse to get away from a large group of people, especially when you’re overwhelmed. Not saying that Gojo is, but he did mention a headache.

So, you and Gojo take a stroll.

It’s quiet, aside from the sounds of nature and your footfalls. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his head turn in your direction. What? Is he shocked that you respected his wish to be quiet? You don’t want to force a conversation.

After maybe half an hour of walking, you declare, “I think we’re far away enough that you don’t need me anymore.” You point at the bench in front of a pond that you purposely led yourselves to. “So, I’m going to do what I was going to do.” You give a polite half-hearted bow. “It was nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you in the future.”

Suguru texts as soon as you sit down, asking where you went off to. You’re terrible with directions, so you send him a shot of the pond and the building closest to it. You don’t mention Gojo. You’ll tell him about it later. Your fingers glide over the hard cover of the new sketchbook and the fresh, crisp, blank page that you turn to. You treat this sketchbook carefully because it’s the nicest you’ve ever seen.

Yaga said that it was very important to nurture your curiosity in understanding cursed spirits, so it was a more than worthy investment to get you sketchbooks. The more knowledge that you gain about the jujutsu world, the deeper your understanding of them goes, and that can be helpful to the jujutsu world. No one has ever had an ability like yours that he knows of, Yaga had told you privately. Knowledge of cursed spirits is only gained in the heat of battle or the aftermath of death. Your pacification abilities allow the study of cursed spirits without the bloodshed.

In that meeting, you’d tried to make Yaga see some sense. You’re some nobody from nowhere with a weird fixation on drawing the cursed spirits. He has all these big aspirations for you, but you highly doubt that you can live up to them. It wasn’t even about the sketchbook at that point. Suguru’s technique is the one that will change the world.

With you and Suguru, I think your techniques have skewed your worldviews. Suguru has shown me some of his higher-grade spirits. Exorcising those would be bloody work for anyone else. Your technique is more suited for a supportive role, yes, but don’t dismiss your power. It’s a trickle-down effect—you’ll save the lives of fellow sorcerers who will go on to exorcise spirits that saves the lives of current and future non-sorcerers.

You’d definitely cried after that conversation with Yaga. No one has ever wanted to…foster your interest like this. Setting aside how disturbed they were by the content that you drew, they saw no use in it. It was fine as a child, but in the past year or so, they had outright started to scold you for not putting the pencil down. You were the daughter of farmers and would never be famous for your art, so you needed to invest in better skills. Even your art teacher wanted to censor you and told you that any drawings needed to be school-appropriate.

More dedicated than ever, you’ve been almost obsessive with drawing.

“Oi.”

You’ve literally only drawn the rough shape of the pond. You try not to sigh or let your irritation at being interrupted show on your face when you tilt your head up. “Yes?”

“What if I did want a tour?”

It was obvious from the get-go that Gojo is a blunt person, so you don’t lie out of politeness. “I still get lost, so I’m the wrong person to ask. Like I said before, go ask Sensei.” You drop your attention to your lap and start sketching again. “Besides, I’m not good at talking to people.”

“It’s not like we have to chat. Just tell me the buildings.”

“Didn’t you say you have a headache?”

“Yeah, but I always have a headache.” That’s…alarming. You look back up at him, concerned. He shrugs and says, “Six Eyes,” as if you have any idea what that is supposed to mean. “Ugh. Right. Small town girl or whatever.” Then, he tries to dismiss it all with, “It’s a Gojo clan thing. I have special eyes that make my technique better, but the cost is migraines.”

Oh. It’s like Suguru’s technique, then. In the sense that there’s a massive blowback. Suguru has told you about the taste of curses and how disgusting doesn’t even come close to describing how awful it is. He tries to pretend that the taste is the only bad thing about it, but there’s a reason why he would wait until night to eat them where he could lay down immediately after. He’s even admitted that he would eat them to make his body forget about its hunger.

You’re sympathetic to the sensitivity. There are days when an overcast is still too bright. You bought a pair of sunglasses while you were out with Suguru, but…you can always get more. You have a whole monthly stipend now. Also, you got your uniform and you’re wearing it, so you can use the hood if the light is too much.

“Here.” You pull the sunglasses from where they’re perched on the top of your head. They’re a simple pair with thin silver frame and blue, circular lenses. Gojo looks between you and the sunglasses that you have held out. You hesitate. “What? Are they too girly or something?”

“Uh…no. I…” He looks genuinely perplexed. “You don’t know who I am. Why are you giving me these?”

“My senses are stupidly delicate, too. I know what having a bad day feels like. I don’t need these today, so you can have them. I can go buy new ones if I need them.” Oh! You remember something important and inform him, “I’ve worn them inside and Yaga doesn’t care, so you’re good on that front.”

Gojo takes the sunglasses from you but doesn’t put them on yet. “Inside?”

Oops. “Sorry. I forgot that people are weird about sunglasses inside.” You tap your pencil against the sketchbook, trying to figure out how to say what you want to. “I don’t really understand what the issue there is. Sunglasses are designed to help when it’s too bright. Inside can be as bright as outside, so I’m just using them for their intended purpose. That’s how I see it.” Oops again. You started rambling. “I’ll take them back if you don’t want them. You didn’t seem like the type to care about the opinions of others, is all.”

“No, I want them.” He yanks them away when you try to take them back. “I—”

“Hey!”

Suguru’s normally soft voice raising like that makes you yelp and jump in your seat. You whip your head around to see him storming toward you, fists and jaw clenched. You’re alarmed to see him so visibly angry. You scramble to stand up and meet him in the middle. “Suguru?”

“Aren’t you too old to be picking on people?” Suguru asks with narrowed eyes. He’s looking over your head, at Gojo. “Give those back to her.”

Oh! Now, you understand. To someone else, it would look like Gojo stole your sunglasses and is trying to keep them away to be a bully.

“Suguru, no. It’s okay—”

“Heh!” Gojo’s cocky laugh makes you angle your body so you can look between them both. He smirks smugly and makes a show of putting on your sunglasses. “Who are you? Mommy?” Gojo shoves his hands in his pockets, feigning nonchalance. “I didn’t steal them, so calm down, mama bear.” Gojo points at Suguru while asking you, “This the guy that’s gonna tell me to fuck off if I don’t find some manners?”

“I’m certainty thinking about it right now,” Suguru sneers. His anger simmers back down and he goes back to his polite yet cool indifference. He ignores Gojo’s obvious baiting and moves his attention to you. “Is that true? Did you give those to him?” You nod. Suguru frowns. “You just bought those.”

“I was trying to be nice to our new classmate.” Suguru’s brow twitches in irritation—probably over the knowledge that this is one of your two classmates. Gojo has not made a good first impression, to say the least. “It’s no big deal. I can buy some new ones when we go to the konbini.”

“Eh? I want to go!” Gojo whines.

Suguru forces a polite smile. “You should stay here. I’m sure that Sensei will have some things to go over with you.”

“I don’t know how to get back. Sketch here was showing me around.”

“Sketch?” Suguru and you repeat, in unison.

“Yeah! Sketch!” Gojo motions towards your sketchbook that you left on the bench. “Because you’re an artsy girl.”

“You should know someone longer than an hour before you go giving them nicknames,” Suguru lectures.

Gojo cocks his head to the side, genuinely confused. “Should you?”

“Yes. Otherwise, it’s just being presumptuous.”

“Ask the lady, then.” Gojo hunches over, prowling toward you with a mischievous grin, getting very close to your face with his. “You don’t mind it, do you…” He lifts his head, purposely baiting Suguru when he adds, “…Sketch?”

Now, you may not be the best at social cues or reading the room, but even you know that whatever you say is going to be the wrong thing. Do you actually care about the nickname thing? No. Also, is Suguru forgetting that he literally gave you the Squid nickname only after a week? Sure, you were both six and he forgot your name, but the point stands.

“I think I’m in the middle of a dick measuring contest,” you muse aloud. Suguru sighs in exasperation while Gojo gives a delighted laugh. “I’m going to walk away now.”

“Yes. We should go,” Suguru agrees through gritted teeth.

As you and Suguru are walking away, after you’ve gathered all your things up, Gojo loudly asks, “Aren’t you gonna introduce yourself?”

Suguru understands, on some level, that it would be beneficial to get along with your peers since there’s only going to be four of you in the whole class. That’s why you’ve indulged Gojo’s…neediness? Entitlement? Whatever it is. And Suguru won’t be as nice as you—which is ironic because he’s usually the polite one—but he does turn around and introduce himself with a curt, “I’m Geto Suguru.”

“Gojo Satoru,” Gojo shoots back cockily. “Aren’t you going to tell me how much you look forward to working with me?”

“No.” Ah. Suguru’s patience has reached its end. “We’re leaving now.”

***

It’s not until about a week later, one week before the term starts, that you actually see Gojo on campus. This isn’t to say that you’re not painfully aware of what Gojo has been up to. Because what his purpose in life seems to be right now is to dig his way under Suguru’s skin. While in separate rooms, they still share communal spaces—kitchen, showers, laundry. Suguru tries to stay in his room, but they’re bound to run into each other, and when they do…

Well, you learn that there are alarms imbued in the protective barrier around campus that blare when a cursed spirit is detected within. Spirits from Suguru’s collection are no exception. That unexpected noise had you in a panic. Suguru and Gojo had an extremely long lecture and were forced to clean the already pristine classrooms as punishment.

You’re making your rounds on the track. Sensei recommended it since you’re not nearly as in shape as Suguru. He was trusted to work in the fields back home way more than you were. The most that you were trusted to do was wash picked crops. You weren’t even allowed to pick out the bad crops because you took too long. You’re a perfectionist and kept questioning if you should let a crop slip through or not.

Gojo plops down on the stone staircase that leads down to the track and field. You feel like you should ignore him out of loyalty to Suguru, but you can’t do that here. You have to try and get along with your classmates. You leave the lectures to Sensei and hope that Suguru’s temper will cool down with time. Also…Gojo is waving a second popsicle in the air to get your attention and it’s really tempting. Too tempting.

You wordlessly take the popsicle and examine the flavor. It’s red bean. You’re instantly wary. “Did you get the same?” Gojo flashes the reddish tinted popsicle in answer. He shoves it back in his mouth before you can get a good look. Fine. You’ll just ask outright. “Does it have pieces of red beans in it?”

Gojo scowls. You think you’ve offended him for asking too many questions about his gift, but it turns out that he’s actually upset about something else entirely. “No! Ew! What am I? A heathen?” His nose scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, that’s so gross. Who like chunks in their ice cream? The whole point is for it to be creamy and smooth!”

You almost sigh in relief. “I think sprinkles are okay, but…yeah. Everything else is too much.”

“Ugh, no. Sprinkles are too chalky. They leave this…eh…it’s like a film kind of feeling on my teeth. I hate it. I have to scoop it off any desserts which pisses me off more because I love whipped cream and I’m losing it to fucking sprinkles.”

You nod sagely. “A waste of good food.”

“Thank you! You get it!” Gojo sighs dramatically. “You’re so much cooler than your boyfriend, Sketch!”

“Because I agreed with you about dessert preferences? Also, Suguru isn’t my boyfriend. He’s my best friend. We’ve lived in the same village all our lives. There was no one else like us. People that could see cursed spirits, I mean.”

Gojo is still wearing the sunglasses that you gave him. You can’t tell that he’s looking you over until he allows them to slip down the bridge of his nose. “Really? He acts like a possessive boyfriend, though.”

You rub the back of your neck. “We’re protective of each other because of…other private stuff.” You know not to put Suguru’s relationship with his parents on blast. “Oh, and he says he’s not, but I think he’s protective because of my diagnosis.”

“Diagnosis?”

“Jiheishō,” you answer casually between licks of your popsicle. “I was always weird as a baby and a toddler. Then, I talked about seeing things, and that pushed my parents over the edge. They took me to a doctor, and I got diagnosed.”

“Huh. What’s that like?”

“I don’t know. It’s who I am. How do you explain being?” You pause. “I would say that you could ask Suguru since he’s on the outside looking in, but…you’re being an annoying dick to him.”

Gojo cackles. “But he makes it so easy!”

“I’m not one to assume because it’s hard to know what people think or I don’t understand them the right way, but…have you ever tried to make friends before? If I didn’t already know that you have to go to a school, I’d ask if you’ve even been around other people your age. This isn’t how you get along with your peers.”

He scoffs. “Why do I need to get along with my peers? Why do I need friends?”

“Because it’s lonely and miserable without them?”

“Ha! You ever stop to think that it’s lonely and miserable with them?” There’s a bitter twist to his mouth. He nudges the sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes away. “I mean, you said it, didn’t you? It’s such a chore to figure out how other people work and what they’re thinking. Normies are too…normal. Clan kids are only sucking up because my clan is the most powerful. It’s stupid and complicated. Why bother?”

Oh. That’s…sad…and also way too relatable. Your expression softens. “Those aren’t friends, though. You know that, right? I guess my opinion might not count because I only have one friend, but…he’s made my life better. I like to think that I’ve made his better, too.” He sticks his tongue out in disgust. You shrug. “It’s true. He’s been the only person that listens to me when I can’t shut up about art styles or cursed spirits because I’m really interested in those. I can be me around him.”

“You’re probably not as annoying as you think you are,” he dismisses. “Now, I’m annoying. I can’t shut up about Digimon.”

“You’re probably not as annoying as you think you are,” you repeat mockingly. He flips you off and you smirk in response. “Do you want to talk about it with me? I’ll listen. It sounds like you’ve been around shitty people that don’t want to hear about things that make you happy.”

Gojo is actually…hesitant. That makes you even sadder. You know this all too well. “I yap a lot. Seriously.”

You make yourself laugh past the hurt you feel out of sympathy for him. “I’ve got my sketchbook with me. I’ll show you what real yapping is.”

It’s the right thing for you to say. Putting a competitive spin on it makes it easier for Gojo to be open, it seems. “Oh, you are so on, Sketch.” He rises to his feet with a renewed excitement. “You should come help me finish unpacking! I have a lot of Digimon stuff, so it’ll be easier to explain everyone with that!”

“Eh? Are girls allowed—”

Gojo doesn’t hear you. He snatches you by the wrist and you stumble to keep up with him. You’re halfway to the boys’ dorm before he finally listens when you tell him that he left your sketchbook behind. You watch him sprint back toward the track, still trying to figure out how the hell you ended up here.

Suguru loves to read, but not manga. There was only one television in your house that your parents always had control of, so they never let you watch anime. Obviously, you know that Digimon is a manga and anime. It’s big like Pokémon. You know there are little creatures, but that’s about the extent of it.

Gojo changes that.

It’s a little confusing, sure, but you like hearing people talk about the things they like. Maybe it’s because you��re so used yourself to the rejection of being shut down because you’re boring people by talking about the same thing or overwhelming them with talking too much or liking weird things. You don’t want other people to feel like that. It was obvious from Gojo’s demeanor that it’s something he’s experienced, too.

As you look at all the figurines and manga and plushies, you wonder if his family threw money at this thing he likes and left him alone with it all. You don’t think he would be so cynical about other people if he had support from his family. Would you be okay if you parents paid for the most expensive art supplies in the world and left you to it? You prefer to be alone, but…isn’t this special interest more special when you can share it with someone?

“Squid?”

You and Gojo are both in the middle of his room, on the floor, and currently have your faces shoved against his little plushies that are shaped like the first evolution of the original Digimon set. It’s so soft and squishy. Gojo is really proud of finding them and you can’t blame him. It’s cool that he’s not afraid to have cute things like this like a lot of guys are.

“Oh. Hey, Suguru.” You look over your shoulder at him, a little nervous. Before he can grill you about being alone with his unofficial rival, you quickly explain, “I’m getting informed about Digimon.” You spin around on your ass, shoving the plushy out. “Come feel this. It’s so soft.”

Suguru scowls. “No.”

“No is right!” Gojo loudly agrees. “He’s not allowed to the nice stuff!”

“Girls aren’t allowed in our dorm,” Suguru says more to Gojo than you.

“It’s fine until dark. I already asked Yaga.”

Suddenly, there’s a tension in Suguru’s shoulders. His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow at Gojo. “Why do you know that?”

“Shouldn’t you be happy about this news?” Gojo shoots back, a clear deflection. “You can hang out with her now.”

Suguru presses a thumb to the center of his forehead. He holds that position, trying to calm himself down. When he does, he moves his attention back to you. “He didn’t pressure you to come in here, did he?”

Before Gojo can open his mouth, you swing the plushy back to hit him. The way he sputters and Suguru’s proud smirk is a sign that you hit him right in the face. “I can make decisions on my own,” you tell Suguru which wipes that little smirk right off his face. “We’re doing a show and tell…kind of. You should bring your headphones and let us listen to your music!”

“I didn’t consent to this!” Gojo complains.

This going back and forth is a little annoying, so you angle your body to face them both. To Gojo, you say, “Okay, that’s your call. This is your stuff, after all.” To Suguru, you ask, “Um…I’ll meet you in an hour? We can listen to your music then. Does that sound good?”

Gojo groans. The excitement to share outweighs his need to annoy Suguru because he concedes with an exasperated, “Fine! He can come hang out!”

“Fine,” Suguru agrees with the same amount of annoyance.

But, hey, a win is a win.

***

The last of your class moves in a few days before the semester starts. It’s early in the morning when she does, so the noise in the hallway startles you awake, and you go stumbling out of your room without a second thought to how you’re dressed. Your door opening catches your roommate’s attention and she’s looking in your direction when you walk in her line of sight.

Both of you stare wordlessly at one another. There’s a beauty mark under the corner of her eye that catches your attention before anything else. Her brunette hair is cut short, barely past her chin, and her bangs are swept to the side. You’re watched by curious, brown eyes. At first glance, you think she’s got a cigarette in her mouth, but it doesn’t have the filter on the end. It might be one of those chalky candy sticks.

“Oh! You’re so pretty!” You blurt the words out before your sleep-addled brain can catch them. Heat crawls up the back of your neck and the tips of your ears. “Sorry!”

She laughs good-naturedly. “What? Should I be offended by a pretty girl giving me compliments?” And how…do you react to that? No one has ever called you pretty before. She unintentionally throws you a bone by moving the conversation somewhere else with her name. “I’m Ieiri Shoko. Nice to meet you.”

You give her your name, bow, and the same polite, “Nice to meet you, too. I look forward to working with you.”

“We’re living together now. You don’t need to be all formal.” It’s a force of habit. You learned quickly as a child that the world revolves around politeness and manners. “Sorry for waking you.”

“That’s okay.” You hesitate. “Do you need help?”

“Please. My parents bailed. I’m lucky they even had the time to drop me off. Not sure how they even had the time to pop me out with how busy they are at the hospital.”

You’re rolling up your sleeves as you walk over to her door. “They’re…doctors?”

“Surgeons, yeah,” she answers casually. “Makes sense that I ended up with the technique that I did, even if no sorcerer in our family has ever had it. We’ve always been big on healing, or so my parents have told me.”

“What’s your technique?”

“Reverse Cursed Technique, but I can use it on myself and others. It’s rare to extend it to other people.” Your blank expression has her chuckling. “You’re from a non-sorcerer family, huh?”

Your face is back to being hot again. “Sorry. Sensei…um…I don’t think he went over that yet.”

“I’m not sure that he will. It’s advanced. Even among the best, strongest sorcerers, it’s a rare skill. Baby sorcerers only know about it because it’s a thing to aspire to, y’know?”

Whoa. “What is it? You must be really powerful, right?”

Ieiri laughs. “No way. Reverse Cursed Technique alone is healing yourself. Like I said, I can take it further and heal others. Oh, and I have this…ability to find disturbances in the mind and body.” Then, she puts her ability in practice. “I know you got your tongue pierced.”

Your fingers fly up to touch your lips. “And you think that’s not powerful?”

“Flatterer.” Between all your back and forth with her, you’ve both gotten all the boxes inside her room. She flops down on the bare mattress. “What’s your technique?”

“Nothing as cool or useful as yours, I think.” You rock back and forth on your feet nervously. “They don’t see me unless I want them to. Also, I can pacify them. Nothing more than that. I only make them calm.”

“Guess we’ll both be saving lives.” There it is again. Someone can see more purpose in your technique than you can. Your brain just can’t compute with that. You’ll just…stand there and pacify spirits. It seems like so little to save actual lives. “Are our other classmates here yet? Have you met them?”

“Yes. One of them is my best friend, actually. His name is Geto Suguru. We came from the same village and he’s from a non-sorcerer family, too. Please be patient with both of us. And our other classmate is Gojo Satoru—” Ieiri groans loudly. You smile meekly. “I guess you know that his family is important?”

“If you have even a hint of sorcery in your family, you know about the big three clans, so, yeah, I know. My parents have never been active sorcerers, but they’re in the know of the community. No one has been able to shut up about the Gojo heir since he was born. I think my parents said it’s been…hundreds of years since someone was born with the Six Eyes?”

You nod. “Right. He said something about that. They’re special.”

“That’s an understatement.” There’s a lull in the conversation and, in the silence, you hear a familiar noise. It didn’t come from you. Ieiri laughs, no hint of shame at her stomach outing her. “I guess since I woke you up that you haven’t had breakfast. Want to grab something to eat? My parents didn’t give me time to eat.”

Your brows furrow. “They’re doctors. Shouldn’t they be more worried about your nutrition?”

Ieiri just starts laughing.

***

The school term starts.

Suguru and Gojo still aren’t getting along well. It almost seems worse because when actual schoolwork starts, they’re essentially tied on their marks. In regard to their techniques, while Gojo has more cursed energy, Suguru has more refined control. Suguru also takes to martial arts extremely well and Gojo, who you’re sure has been touched even less than you have, is almost always overcome when they spar. Gojo is faster than Suguru and is learning to use that to an advantage.

As for you and Ieiri, you hope that she likes her as much as you like her. It’s…easy to be around her. You admit that you had a lot of issues with her deadpan sense of humor, but she seemed to catch on quickly and now will usually tell you if she’s joking or being sarcastic. There are also some hiccups with food because you two share cooking duty, but she starts learning what textures you hate and which you love.

In your studies, you do okay, but you’re last in the class. If Ieiri wasn’t so lazy, she’d give the guys a run for their money. You are a lot more in shape than her despite your larger size and you lay her out flat in sparring. Yaga declared that you and she would be mostly non-combatant sorcerers due to the nature of your techniques, but he insisted that you and she learn martial arts for self-defense. Actually, you’re more in shape than Gojo even. Suguru is leagues ahead of you, obviously, because he’s so much more coordinated and stronger.

About a month in, you’re given your first assignment.

And by you what you actually mean is yourself and Gojo.

In the last few years, the number of cursed spirits has been steadily increasing. There are two separate incidents with relatively low-level curses and all the higher-grade sorcerers are occupied with higher-level curses, so you and your classmates are split up in teams of two.

Suguru was not happy about the pairings, but Yaga said that you and Suguru know how to work well together already. Then, kind of bitchily, Yaga explained that if Suguru and Gojo got along better then Yaga would’ve simply had them handle both batches themselves. Later, you try to reassure Suguru by reminding him that there’s going to be a more seasoned sorcerer with you—the newly graduated Kusakabe Atsuya. You don’t think it made him feel better.

Kusakabe will meet you there. On the way to meet him, you ask Gojo, “Should we…come up with a plan?”

“Why?”

You fiddle with the metal aglet on the ends of your hooded sweatshirt’s drawstrings. “I would feel better if we did.”

“We don’t even know the layout of this place,” he points out.

“Right,” you mumble. You’d forgotten about that, honestly. “You’re right.” You slip the aglet in your mouth and chew on it nervously.

Gojo huffs. “You stop it. I blow it up. Simple as that.”

“Can I draw it first?”

“Hah?”

You squirm uncomfortably. Hesitantly, you show him your old sketchbook. You kept it in case you come across a similar cursed spirit and need to compare notes. You’ve also got your new, blank sketchbook to start a new, more official record. “I like to study them,” you explain timidly. “It’s…kinda like my Digimon…I guess…”

Gojo takes the sketchbook from you, casually flipping through the pages. “Why cursed spirits, though?”

“Why’d you pick Digimon instead of some other anime?” You shrug nervously. “It’s hard to explain. At first, I thought some of them looked really cool. I made myself get better at art so that I could draw them, in case they were exorcised somehow. Then, I wanted to know how they got those shapes. It became about their behavior next. I’ve always loved mythology and animals, too, so maybe that influenced the interest a little.”

“Hmph. Alright. I’ll try to hold off on blowing it up.” Before he turns his head away, you notice a pinkness on his cheeks. “You can talk about them with me, if you want. Like…how I talk about Digimon and stuff.”

You duck your head, face hot. “Thank you.”

The assignment doesn’t take long at all. It may take more time for you to sketch the spirits than it does for Gojo to blow them away. There were a lot of them. They all took the same form which was vaguely pufferfish shaped. You know that the weaker, tinier spirits tend to group up, and these were no different.

Their behavior around Gojo was the odd thing, though. Unless the spirit is a higher grade, spirits never reacted to Suguru when you were around. It’s not like that with Gojo. He’d held back to let you sketch, but when he stepped toward you, the group started to shift restlessly in their places. Then, when he got too close, they shot their spines out. If Gojo hadn’t dashed forward and tackled you to the ground, covering you with his Infinity-lined body, you would be a porcupine.

“It was fascinating!”

Suguru looks faint as you recount your assignment to him over dinner. You made sure to pick up something light for him since eating curses fucks with his stomach. You got him some onigiri for the morning when he’ll be ravenous, making sure to mark them as yours before you tuck them in the communal fridge. Hopefully, it’ll succeed in tricking Gojo because you have no doubt that he’d eat them to antagonize Suguru.

“I wonder what it is about Gojo that freaked them out like that,” you mutter to yourself. “You’re as strong as him. Do you think you have some sort of calming effect on them because of your technique? Or what if they can sense the spirits inside you and it confuses them?”

“No more thinking tonight, Squid,” Suguru declares and closes your sketchbook. “We have three years to figure out both our techniques.”

“Fine.”

“Well, now you just sound like Gojo with that bratty attitude.”

“It’s not bratty! It’s called being a nerd.”

Suguru gives a shake of the head as he laughs. “You can be a nerd and a brat at the same time.” You watch him start to clean up the empty food containers. His face is doing something…weird. You can’t pinpoint this particular emotion. “Squid…are you up for touch today?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Can I hold you?” Suguru, uncharacteristically vulnerable, goes on to admit, “I was worried about you today.”

“If anyone was worried, it was me. You didn’t have me there to calm the spirits down.” You two ate while sitting in the floor, so you hold your arms out to him like the brat that he accused you of being. “C’mon. I never get Suguru hugs anymore. I really miss them.”

He smiles, a little shy. “Brat.”

“No. I’m Squid, remember? You never let me forget.”

For some reason, your brain replaced hold with hug. You’re fully expecting him to help you up and give you something quick, but he doesn’t do that. He drops in behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you back between his open legs. You squeak at the manhandling and your heart starts to beat faster. When your back is against his broad chest, he slips both his arms around your middle, and leans his chin on the top of your head with a happy sigh.

“Oh,” you whisper unthinkingly.

Suguru mistakes your tension with overstimulation. “Is this okay still?”

“Yes.”

Why are you so nervous? You’re not being bombarded by stimuli, so it can’t be because of that. Actually…it feels really good to be in his arms. He’s always so warm. You feel as if his arms are all-encompassing. It makes you feel safe. It makes you feel loved. And Suguru should be feeling that way, too, so you need to push away this weirdness inside you. You twist around in his arms, putting yours around his waist, shoving your face against his hard chest.

“Squid hugs are the best hugs,” Suguru whispers.

***

“Do you know how to help with a broken nose?”

You’re in the library when Sensei appears in the doorway and asks that almost ominous question. Slowly, you put the book back on the shelf, eyeing Sensei warily. He simply looks back at you, exhaustion seeping from every pore. The resignation you see in him is familiar, too. The pieces quickly add up. The air around Sensei paired with the cryptic text that came from Suguru with only a simple apology…

Oh, no.

“I can plug up the nosebleed and make an ice pack,” you answer with an equally tired sigh.

Sensei nods and gives a curt thanks. Before you and he go your separate ways, you sheepishly ask if you can talk to Suguru before he does, but Sensei shuts that idea down immediately. You’re then held up by being given a quick yet scathing lecture about needing to let Suguru face the consequences of his own actions and to stop coddling him. You bow profusely in apology as he’s leaving the room.

Ieiri is away on a research trip of sorts. Being taught the human body and putting her technique into use. Thankfully, she said she’ll be back today, but not until later tonight. Gojo is stuck with your shabby patchwork until then. So, you grab a first-aid kit, fill up an ice pack, and meet him in the classroom that Sensei told you he’d be waiting in.

Gojo has an arm against his face, likely trying to stop the bleeding since it’s stained. You wordlessly get to work. Unfortunately, you have experience with nosebleeds and broken nose. Noses? Can a nose be broken twice? Suguru’s nose still sits crooked from his father’s rage.

“Pinch,” you order softly after you take Gojo’s hand and move his fingers to the bridge of his nose. You reach for his face, pausing as he flinches when you get close. You give him a moment to prepare before you guide him to tilt his head back with gentle hands along his jawline. Blood is smeared all across his lower face and still dripping down from his nostrils. You cringe at the sight. Suguru got him good. “This might hurt,” you warn before you pack his nose with gauze.

“No lecture?” Gojo’s voice is high and nasally.

“You don’t think you’ll be getting one from Sensei?” You grab a damp, warm cloth and start wiping away the blood. “Besides, whatever you did, you got a broken nose for it. What else do I need to say?”

“Might prefer the broken nose over your disappointment,” he says with a pout.

“I’m not disappointed.” You pause. “I don’t think I am, anyway.”

Gojo leans his head back even further, sighing dramatically. “Your BFF is scary when he’s angry.”

“Suguru does this thing where he’ll hold all his emotions close. They sit there, building up pressure, and then one day, he’ll just explode. So, yeah, that’s a little scary. Not so much for me, though. I only worry.” He pouts more. “What’s that face for?”

“No worry for me?”

Your hands hesitate. “Maybe kind of?” Should you say what you want to? Eh. Gojo rarely cares. Why should you? “I’d love it if you two could get along, so I worry that this might keep that from happening forever, but…you probably pushed him. I could be wrong, but you probably deserved this.”

Gojo throws his clean arm over his eyes. “Yeah…I did…” Oh? That’s certainly a change of heart. “No one has ever touched me like that before…” There’s a redness on his cheeks now that doesn’t come from the blood stains. Is he embarrassed that he lost or something? “Why aren’t you and Suguru scared of me?” He tries to lean his head back down, but you keep him in place with a hand gripping his chin. “See? See! Not even my family touches me so casually!”

“What? Is your family actually scared of you?”

“Yeah. Always have been, even if they pretend not to be. They treat me like a god to hide it, but I learned. Everyone is scared of me. Maids apologized for touching me by accident when I was a kid and needed help getting dressed.” Your incredulousness must make him self-conscious because he shrugs. “C’mon, you’ve been around long enough now to pick up on this, Sketch. I’m the jujutsu world’s weapon.”

Normally, you’re immune to being shocked by Gojo’s directness. Not this time. “It’s stupid if you believe that.” Ugh. You’re so pissed off right now. You want to punch someone. That was his mother on the first day that he came to campus, right? Can she come back? Does she have Infinity? “You’re bleeding and breathing right now, aren’t you? Weapons don’t do that. Gods don’t get migraines because of their special eyes. You’re a human. You’re Gojo Satoru.”

“But who is Gojo Satoru if he’s not those things?”

“A sugar-addicted brat who pushes when he shouldn’t,” you intone. He giggles, taking it as the joke it’s supposed to be. “Aren’t you too young to be having an identity crisis? I can’t tell you who you are. I’m not even sure I know who I am. Don’t they say you’re supposed to figure that out in high school or something?”

“Dunno,” he mumbles.

The blood is cleaned from his face. You reach for the icepack but falter. You don’t feel like you’ve said anything helpful. If anything, you feel like you’ve put him in a bad spot. So, you try to reassure him. “It’s okay to take time to figure out who you are, Gojo—”

“Satoru.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Satoru…please…”

“Ah.” You can understand why he wants to be so informal. If he wants to distance himself from his stupid family, you’re more than happy to oblige. “Okay.” He yelps when you press the icepack against his nose. “Let’s all try to get along from now on, okay…Satoru.”

Later, you have Suguru’s big hand in yours while you carefully dab antiseptic on the cuts all over them. You know that this isn’t solely from punching Satoru in the nose, but you don’t press Suguru about it. He hasn’t spoken since you knocked on the door to his dorm room and you’re okay with that. You’ve been through this routine before. It’s what you two do. You patch each other up, being a silent and steady presence until whoever is upset wants to talk.

When you’ve cleaned all his cuts, you try to clean up all the pieces of paper from the band-aids, but Suguru stops you. He slips his fingers through yours and your entwined hands hover in the air between you two. You watch as he intensely studies your hands, so you do the same. When did his hands get so much bigger than yours? How do your hands feel to him, you wonder, because his are so rough. You like the difference, though.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru finally apologizes. “I broke the sunglasses you gave him.”

You huff in amusement. That’s what he’s worried about? “It’s okay.”

“They were your first purchase in Tokyo.”

Ah, you sometimes kind of hate how well he knows you. You do tend to assign some importance to seemingly unimportant trinkets. “I think I’m more attached to the piercings that we got together. I’ll probably keep this somewhere when I finally have to get a new barbell.” You stick out your tongue, as if he’s forgotten the piercing.

“I would’ve given you that first set of earrings if that was the case,” Suguru grumbles. Shoko had used you and Suguru as guinea pigs for her technique and healed your piercings, so Suguru quickly started the process of stretching his ears. As he said, he’d thrown away that first set of earrings.

“I know it’s weird to ask that sort of thing.”

“It’s you, Squid. Nothing is weird anymore.”

“Hmm, sounds like a challenge. I need to find something to disturb you.”

“Please don’t.”

“I’ll be nice for now because you had a bad day.”

“Bad day doesn’t even begin to cover it.” There’s a tired slump in his shoulders now. “He was playing around too much. Instead of exorcising the curse or letting me absorb it, he kept taunting it. The spirit threw me out a window trying to get to him, so I got pissed. I absorbed it and punched him in the face.” He pauses before lowly confessing, “I punched him a second time when I saw the sunglasses broke because I thought they were special to you. I was upset at myself for losing my temper and mad at him for not being careful with them even though it was my fault.”

You hum. “Is that guilt, Suguru?”

“Guilt for the sunglasses.”

“Right.” Again, you’re not pushing, but you doubt he doesn’t feel bad in some way. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be as melancholic as he is right now. “I’m going to let you sit on this, but…I think Satoru actually feels bad, so he might apologize. I didn’t tell him to, by the way. Just like I’m not telling you to forgive him. But I thought you should know.”

Suguru’s brow twitches. “You’re on first name basis with him now?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh. He’s just doing it to piss me off.”

You’re the one to feel a flash of irritation now. “Doing what exactly? Being my friend? Are you saying that he can’t actually want to be my friend without some ulterior motive?”

Then, he rolls his eyes. Rolls his eyes! “Squid, you’re just reaching now. You know that’s not what I’m saying—”

“What are you saying, then? Has he said something bad that I don’t know about?”

The corners of his eyes are tight. Through gritted teeth, he answers, “No.”

“Okay. So, what’s the problem?”

“I just don’t trust him around you, okay?”

“You just said that he hasn’t done anything shady other than wanting to be my friend.” You yank your hands away from his, baring your teeth. “Am I not allowed to have those? Are you going to say that you don’t trust Shoko around me either?”

Then, he has the audacity to look hurt. “No! That’s not what I’m saying at all! You’re allowed to have friends!”

“Okay! Satoru and Shoko are my friends, too!” Are you overreacting? Tears prick at the corners of your eyes which makes you feel even more stupid. Why are you about to cry? Stupid, stupid, stupid brain. “I’m going back to my room. I’ve got blood under my nails and I fucking hate it.”

“Squid, I’m sorry—”

“Save it, Suguru.”

When you’re woken up by tapping against your window at one in the morning, you seriously debate shoving a pillow over your head and ignoring him. There’s a part of you that wants to let him stew in his guilt. You can’t keep forgiving him as soon as he comes running.

This seems like an insignificant thing to stay mad over, though…

After you take a deep breath, you roll out of bed, walk over to your window, and open it up for him to climb through.

Suguru genuinely does look miserable. More than punching Satoru or breaking your sunglasses made him. When he apologizes, you accept it. And when he shyly asks if he can sleepover, you let him. It’s been years since you guys have shared a bed, but your parents aren’t around to send him home.

Suguru said your hugs are the best hugs, but you have to disagree. You know you’ll wake up in the morning, skin slick with sweat, because he’s a furnace, but you’ve missed this. It’s always been so easy to let Suguru touch you. It got to the point where even the touch of your parents would make you wince, but not his. He asks, but you always say yes. You’re never overwhelmed by the way his big body curls around yours.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru apologizes one last time before you both fall asleep. “I’m scared to lose you,” he slurs sleepily.

“Never,” you mumble right back. “You’ll never lose me.”

***

Five months into the term, it’s time for the annual Goodwill Event.

This year wasn’t the best for Tokyo recruitment, so it’s only your class in the entire school. It’s not the same for Kyoto. They only have one person in their third year, Iori Utahime, but the rest of the years have more students. Normally, first years aren’t allowed to compete, and Tokyo would simply forfeit this year, but because of Suguru and Satoru’s strength, an exception is made.

Kyoto brings a total of eight students—three girls, five boys. Two judges come with them, too—their principal, Gakuganji, and a Grade 1 sorcerer, Mei-Mei.

It’s been about two months after the big Suguru-Satoru Blowout. As you predicted, they apologized to each other not long after the incident. Dare you say, they might be more than simple acquaintances now. Dare you say, they might actually be sort of friends. They’ve really bonded over being assholes, actually. They’re still stupidly competitive and bicker, but it’s no longer malicious. They can exist in the same space as you and there’s no more awkwardness. You spend time with them together and it’s so much fun.

The Goodwill Event reminds you of that deep-rooted fear of Suguru’s, though. A fear that you had before you left the village, you remember suddenly. It finally happens. Suguru is adored. Fawned over. Truly seen for the first time in your lives. The same is done to Satoru, too, but you banked on that happening. And, technically, it makes sense. Guys want their power and girls just want them period.

It was stupid to pretend that your school exists in a bubble. In the back of your mind, you’ve known that you’d eventually have to meet other sorcerers and that not everyone will like you. You’ve prepared yourself for that, haven’t you? It shouldn’t bother you that the Kyoto students barely even acknowledge your existence when you’re in the same space as Suguru and Satoru. You get it, right? They’re admirable. Shoko is awed at for her technique, too, and that’s great! It’s wonderful!

Just four days, you remind yourself as you’re sitting under a tree by yourself and shoving food in your mouth. Four days, and then the Kyoto students will be gone. It’s okay, you chant to yourself. No one noticed you leave, but you wanted some air, anyway. And, hey, you even made a friend! Sure, Shoko had to introduce you to her and break the ice between you two, but Iori has a sharp tongue and awesome sense of humor. A senpai to truly look up to. If you can get along with one new person then you can get along with the rest.

“Yo! Sketch!”

You pause right before you take a bite of your tamagoyaki. “Satoru?” Fruit sando and melon soda in hand, he easily flops down next to you at the base of the tree. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s exhausting dealing with all those brown nosers.” He takes an aggressive chunk out of his sandwich. “Ugh. I can’t believe we’re gonna have to share a dorm with these assholes for four days. I don’t need a bunch of strangers in my business.” His lip curls in disgust. “Suguru lecture you about playing nice?”

“Yes.” You take a grumpy bite out of your tamagoyaki. “I’m trying not to stress about it, but they were already talking about breakfast, and I can’t imagine the mess they’ll make.” It’s a struggle not to snap your chopsticks from the death grip that you’ve got on them. “Suguru says that I need to learn how to handle my routine being interrupted better.”

Satoru huffs. “Easy for him to say.”

Well, it makes you feel a lot better to know that someone else understands your pain. “All we can do is our best.”

“Or we can make their lives hell.”

You duck your head, trying to hide your smile. “It wouldn’t kill you to play nice with others, Satoru.”

“Naw, I think it actually would.”

“You’re nice to me.”

“Sketch is different.” Heat explodes in your cheeks. You outright turn your head away, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing how much he flustered you with that. Since he doesn’t tease you, he didn’t see. “We should stay in a hotel. We could do one of those capsule hotels, y’know?”

“And have my knees and elbows bumping against the sides? No way.” You stick your tongue out in disgust. After the third bump of a limb, you know it would drive you insane. Besides, “Would you even fit in one of those?” Ah. Wait. Were you supposed to take that seriously? “Were you joking?”

You look back over at him and he’s scratching the bridge of his nose. “Not really.”

“Ha. Okay, so, a couple of things—I think we’re too young to book a room, and a girl and boy in the same room? Scandalous.”

He gives an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”

Sympathetic to his plight, you reach over to pat his knee. “Hang in there.”

These days, it’s a little easier for you to pick up on the kind of mood Satoru is in. It’s the second day now, early in the morning, and you’re dragged by Shoko to the designated gathering spot of Tokyo and Kyoto students. Just by the way that Satoru lashes out at people, purposely baiting them with taunts and cruel bluntness, you can tell that he’s in as bad a mood as you are. And you can’t blame him.

The other two girls on the Kyoto side are Ota Juri and Takata Tenka. They cleaned up after themselves, but they moved everything around in the kitchen and didn’t put it back in the original spot, so you got pissed off trying to find where something went. You could live with that, but they’re also…invasive. After they went looking for Suguru and Satoru yesterday and found the boys with you, their attitude toward you quickly changed. They think they’re slick, subtly probing about your friendship with Suguru and Satoru. They try to act familiar now, getting touchy, thinking that’ll warm you up to them faster.

To say that you’re on a wire’s edge today would be an understatement. You don’t know which one suggested it, but you want to deck whichever one of these girls suggested shopping as a way to build comradery between the sister schools and the people you may be working with in the future. They just want to experience the Tokyo scene like they probably couldn’t get permission to ride a train here on any other day.

At the mall, Ota and Takata take the lead. They have very domineering personalities, so their classmates allow the girls to drag them along. You try to sneak away, sometimes with Shoko and Iori behind you, but Ota and Takata hunt you down—probably trying to show off how caring they are to Suguru and Satoru or something. Eventually, you stop trying. You shut up and linger at the back of the group.

You try to do that, anyway.

Shoko, as equally over this trip, drags you into the beauty store because if she’s going down, you’re going with her.

“Aren’t you going to get anything?” Ota questions as you’re just passively glancing over products. You almost miss the question because you’re teetering on the edge of overstimulation. Why do beauty stores have to use so much fluorescent lighting? You forgot your fucking sunglasses.

“I’m not big into makeup. I don’t like how it feels on my face.”

Ota laughs obnoxiously. “You’re just using the wrong product, silly.”

You force a smile. “My mom already tested a bunch out with me. I just really don’t like any of it.”

Takata has been eavesdropping. She takes up Ota’s side, smiling as predatory as Ota is now. “Was it the foundation? I know the liquid can be heavy. Have you tried powder?” You lose control of your temper a little and roll your eyes. Don’t these girls know how to take no for an answer? “Don’t be like that,” Takata scolds. “Look, you could stand to use some makeup. We’re trying to help you.”

“Help how?”

If Satoru hadn’t spoken up ahead of time, you’d probably tip over when he practically drapes himself on your shoulder.

Ota and Takata perk up at his presence. You can almost see the hearts in their eyes. “Satoru!” Takata chirps.

“Oi, oi, oi, you’re getting awfully familiar there. Who gave you first name privilege, huh?”

Her syrupy sweet smiles falter. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought—”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Steam might start spewing from your ears. It’s obvious you don’t have a lot going on up there.”

Takata deflates at the insult. “Sa—Gojo—” her gaze flickers to you. Pleading for you to intervene. When she gets nothing from you, she scrambles. “I’m sorry if we offended you somehow—”

“Not me you should be apologizing to.” Your eyes widen. Is he doing this for you? “Y’know, Sketch, it’s good that someone has some sense around here. Make sure you don’t get attached to these idiots, okay? They’ll be so busy thinking about makeup that they’ll up as bloody smears on the wall pretty soon.”

You frown as you look up at him. “What if I do want makeup?”

He brightens. “Can I buy you something?”

Try to make the favoritism less obvious, you think with a twitch of the brow. “Find an art store and we’ll talk.”

“Eh? I already did,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world that he would go scouting for art supply stores. “Can we leave now? I’m bored,” he whines. You hope you’re not gawking when you nod. “Awesome! Let’s go! I found a shop that sells sweets, too!”

Suguru is hovering at the entrance of the store, brows furrowed in concern, but he steps out of the way for you and Satoru, who is practically dragging you out with a grip on your wrist. Suguru isn’t allowed confusion or shock because Satoru is snatching his hand on the way out.

“Satoru, you’re going to rip my arm off,” Suguru complains when the other students are out of sight.

Satoru stops dead in his tracks, so sudden that you and Suguru almost crash into him. He looks over his shoulder at you both. The angle you’re in allows you to see the wideness of his eyes. He still hasn’t let go of your wrist. Actually, his grip tightens, which makes Suguru get huffier.

“Satoru,” he calls out exasperatedly.

Oh.

You’re not sure if Suguru has realized it himself, but he’s using Satoru’s given name now. No wonder Satoru is stunned. It’s so odd. What changed between this morning and now? Because Suguru was definitely referring to him as his surname earlier. You won’t ask because Suguru might clam up and this peace may shatter.

“Oh. Uh. Sorry,” Satoru mutters as he finally releases his hold on you and Suguru.

On the fourth and final day of the Goodwill Event, something…weird happens during your individual match.

Tokyo easily won the team battle. The individual battles are where Kyoto can even the odds. The thing is that Satoru and Suguru are going to win their individual match. As much as you adore her, you expected that Shoko would lose hers, and she did. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but you think that she flirted with Iori more than fight, but Iori didn’t allow herself to get too flustered, and took the win.

You think that Kyoto expects you to lose your match because plans were already made about the tiebreaker. There would be a random draw for one last individual match to decide which school wins the day. There was no word on what would be done to break the tie if each school has their own point.

So, your win is an upset.

If you’re honest with yourself, you didn’t think that you’d win, either. It didn’t look good. It was your luck that you were pitted against the biggest guy on Kyoto’s side. Not as tall as Suguru and Satoru, sure, but the guy is built like a literal tank. During the team battle, if Suguru hadn’t summoned a cursed spirit in time to cushion the blow, this guy would’ve knocked him out with a single punch.

You didn’t stand a chance at winning, you’d told yourself as you were running through the forest, but after the whole mall fiasco, you wanted to try to last long enough to not be the laughingstock of this year.

As soon as the siren sounded, you went running. Your opponent supplemented his lack of technique with shikigami use, so you had time while he channeled energy into an intermediary to summon his shikigami. You’re trying to think of a plan on the fly, not sure what to do since your technique is useless against people.

This would be easier if there weren’t still so many fucking cursed spirits left in the forest. You’re pacifying them, obviously, but you still have to duck around them. Ugh, why can’t you control them like Suguru can? No, at this point…

I wish you would just die, please. Bloody and painfully would be preferred.

And, as soon as you have that thought, the big curse that you were dashing past moves. Your body freezes on instinct. The spirit shouldn’t be moving around you. Your technique is still active. At the most, this curse is Grade 3. It raises a clawed hand, and you throw your arms up, ready to protect yourself from a whole new problem.

There’s a sickening crunch and the curse screeches in pain. Purple blood splatters across the front of you. When you drop your arms, confused as to what attacked the spirit and saved you, you watch the gruesome scene of the curse slowly ripping limbs away from its body. It still has that dead-eyed look that spirits get when you’ve pacified them, but it moves with an urgency to tear itself apart.

Once the curse has only one arm left, it proceeds to push its arm through its own chest, grabbing its heart. That heart is thrown at your feet. Then, as its final act, it slowly twists its head around until it’s the opposite way, pulls its head off, and the curse finally crumbles to pieces.

What the fuck happened?

From your left, there’s more of those crunches and high-pitched screeching. A curse in the shape of a centipede is trying to crawl toward you between picking legs off with its pincers. At your feet, the curse keeps gnawing at itself, screeching in pain every now and then, until it, too, finally dies and crumbles.

If you didn’t hear the loud roar of your opponent’s shikigami, you’d still be standing there in shock. Your mind runs faster than your legs. That’s not normal behavior. Self-preservation is ingrained into a curse…unless it’s forced like with Suguru. You asked them to die. Moreso, you wanted it to be bloody and painful. The curses listened.

You purposely seek out another spirit now. Die, you mentally scream at the first spirit you see. Unlike with the others, this one doesn’t take time to mutilate itself. It tears its head clean off and that’s it. Blood splatters across your shoes briefly before it fades away with the cursed spirit.

A plan slowly takes shape.

Didn’t you and Shoko stumble across a pack of fly heads yesterday? You’d split up because you knew Kyoto would try to follow Satoru’s presence and get to the winning Grade 2 before you. The fly heads weren’t a bother and the bell had rung sounding your win, anyway.

Where were those? By the river, right? Yes!

You’re getting tired from running and burning cursed energy. You’re pretty sure that you only have one shot at this because you’ll either pass out from exhaustion or get your ass beat by a shikigami. So, yeah, you need to make this count.

The fly heads haven’t moved far.

Kyoto Guy and his shikigami aren’t far behind you.

Just as they’re running out of the tree line, you look at the pacified fly heads. Protect me, you plead them, but that’s too much to ask. It was a test. The fly heads don’t move, but you’re forced to when the shikigami lunges. That thing is sporting some nasty fangs that catch on your arm as you narrowly dodge it.

You play this game of cat and mouse, luring the shikigami away from the sorcerer. All you need is for Kyoto Guy to get close enough to the fly heads. He’s an asshole, laughing cruelly as he watches you scramble away from his shikigami, getting bloodier as you get sloppier from fatigue. Iori was gossiping with you and Shoko, and this guy has a crush on Takata. You figure he’s not happy about Satoru’s cruelty which was a result of him defending you.

Explode! You plead the fly heads when Kyoto Guy steps in their range. Explode, explode, explode!

They do.

The shikigami immediately drops the fight with you, thinking the fly heads are the more immediate threat. Like little paint bombs, the fly heads splatter their blood across Kyoto Guy when they force themselves to combust. There are so many of them that he’s continually being splattered.

While he’s blinded by the blood of cursed spirits, you pour cursed energy into your fist. Sprinting past the shikigami that’s snapping at fly heads, you give this asshole a ferocious kick to the balls to get him to hunch over.

You slam your fist square in the center of his face. There’s so much force in the punch that he goes flying back, landing in the shallow river with such a painful sounding thud, and he doesn’t get up. You’d think you killed him if it wasn’t for the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

The alarm sounds.

Tokyo wins.

Later, you’re walking out of the infirmary behind Shoko who proudly announces, “She gave him a concussion!”

Sensei gives you all a lecture on good sportsmanship after Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko break out into applause and cheers.

#my fic #jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk gojo #jjk geto #autistic gojo #autistic reader

60 notes · View notes

sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan · 1 year ago

Text

Thoughts on Short Chapter 90.1 (Long Post)

First of all, what in the world just happened? That short chapter was so unexpected for a short chapter.

Endo is really good at messing all of our brains in just four pages. Upon seeing it as an extra chapter, I thought it’s going to be on a lighter side but I don’t expect it to be dark and centered around Anya!

So here are some of my 6 takeaways. (Long post again sorry!)

1.Anya is probably not the real spelling of her name or not even her real full name

-Anya is pretty sure herself that her name is spelled as Ania, she spelled her name the same way in the Eden Entrance Exam.

-And the expression in her face when Loid corrected her tells a lot. (I’m really amazed how Endo conveyed this without the readers letting know what is going on in Anya’s mind. Meaning that he still doesn’t want to reveal that snippet of her thoughts process since it surely would reveal something about her past) Her expression was so subtle but it tells that for her, she's certain that it was really letter I. Then settling with oh, but not like a happy and excited or enlightened ‘Oh!’ But just a simple, Oh, okay... Like she had no choice but to just agree.

And her lying in her bed thinking about the name, saying it aloud as if familiarizing it.

So here are my thoughts about Ania/Anya’s name:

Ania is part of a longer name

Maybe Ania was a nickname given to her because she has a longer one.

I just told my sister days ago that Anya’s name sounds like Ostania and maybe that is where her name came from. So maybe Ania is just what they named her deriving from Ostania itself.

Ania could also be an acronym for something. Like the A could stand for Apple since the experiment is called Project Apple. The rest of the letters however I have no idea.

Ania could also be an experimental name (Like what I saw on some posts here the AN1A one so they decided to call her Ania but it was not a name but a label for her.

2.Why Loid assumes it was Y and not I

In the documents Franky had given him in the first chapter, her name is spelled Anya with a Y. Meaning, the orphanage thought her name is spelled that way but we can understand for Anya it was always spelled with I not Y. (The document is not readable in the manga but it was clear in the anime)

3.Endo has plans for everything, especially for the three main characters and their back stories

Endo often says that he thought things in a spur of a moment in terms of making this manga (Reference: fanbook Endo interview page 176) like how he decided Anya being a telepath on the last moment and called it luck that it worked out lol. But this was clearly planned and the anime creators, directors and writers are aware and is working closely with Endo. What he pulled in this short chapter isn’t something that can be thought for the last minute. It is planned from the very beginning. Probably some of the little details in the manga might mean more that what meets the eyes. (I saw a video before and in that video they showed Endo's studio and they showed miniature models of the designer chairs on the volume and there are chairs there that were just briefly shown that is yet to appear. I saw the video before the release of Volume 11, the one with Emile and Ewen and I saw their chairs in the line up of the models. So you can't convince me that he hasn't planned anything where he wants to take the plot next.)

4. The Anime on Anya's nameplate change

Anya's name changed in her nameplate, from Ania to Anya at exactly end of Season 1 Part 1 episode 12. Anime have been very persistent in showing that nameplate.

(Episode 3, not in the manga)

Then Episode 11, we saw the change of her name spelling on her test. So the short mission 90.5 took place before she got her first stella.

The Season 1 Part 1 Finale, we see this nameplate and I went to check the short mission of this in the manga and no, the manga didn't show the change of nameplate in that particular chapter.

Now I'm rethinking that it was really a well thought decision of Clover and Wit to make the Aquarium episode and this episode in the finale rather than starting the dog arc crisis and it was smart and sneaky of them.

Anime is doing a lot of work to elaborate the manga and I love them for that!

5.Like Father Like Daughter

It would make sense that in this family Loid and Anya would be the one who bears fake names. Yor being the one whose name being real symbolizes how she doesn’t lie about anything besides being an assassin, and there are times when she isn’t even keeping the fact that she is one. She always does things, mainly, because she genuinely cares for Anya and Loid not for her job at all (as the story progress she thought less about them being just a cover for her). Yet Anya and Loid often does things for their own ulterior motives (Anya for wanting a family for herself and Loid for his mission). They’re the ones who actively kept protecting their secret identities. The ones with the most the secrets. Both have names different from their real ones. Really makes sense don’t you think?

6.We could get an Anya backstory arc, if not by the next chapter, sooner than we expect.

We might have snippets of Anya’s backstory but I believe that Endo would not give out the whole thing. It’s too early to reveal it and what could Anya’s trigger be for her to think about everything that happened in her past?

Loid is triggered when he was rendered unconscious by Anya’s tonitrus

Yor is triggered when she’s thinking about Yuri

How about Anya?

What could trigger her to remember everything she went through?

-Will she perhaps see something or someone that will make her remember her past? (I read a fanfiction about her meeting a man who used to adopt her, it’s from coloredice I think and I can’t help but seeing it happen in canon)

Yet this is a short chapter, maybe Endo will continue this with another short chapter or give us a full chapter in the next two weeks centering around Anya. But it could also be not, since it could also just a way for Endo to add additional details to the narrative. But why bring this up now? for sure, it was a reminder, maybe a preparation on what the future ten chapters to the 100th holds.

Now it’s time for you to tell me what you think? Let’s be Twilight and overthink this four chapter short because our man's too attached to even care about knowing Anya’s background.

143 notes · View notes

stunies · 20 days ago

Text

FLUFFTOBER DAY 21 — HORROR MOVIES! ft. yamato endo x f!reader ﾉ sfw + fluff ﾉ no other warnings ﾉ october masterlist

you’ve had some bad ideas, but this one has to be your worst. halloween night, sitting side by side with the man who has it in his dna to tease you, rank #1 for scariest movies in existence playing on the big TV, and your friends. the friends you’ve somehow managed to convince (through a dragged out lie) that there’s absolutely nothing in the world that can scare you.

A/N ﾉ my submission for @pixelcafe-network’s spooktober collab! + the link to the masterlist that contains everyone else’s pieces ^ ^ <3

You think you’d much rather be anywhere else in the world than here. In fact, watching a puddle of paint dry in your yard sounds pretty delightful- because at least this way, the paint would be the one feeling a watchful presence instead of you.

“Endo,” you warn through a clenched jaw, watching him tense beside you through your peripheral vision. “Stop looking at me.”

You just barely catch his lips tugging into an amused grin before his eyes land on the screen again. He’s still watching you, probably. Out of the corner of his eye- as annoying as it is- because as soon as another ear-piercing scream rips from one of the girls in the movie, you wince and hug your knees closer against your chest, and he’s grinning again.

Clearly getting a good kick out of your reactions- much to your dismay. You swear to yourself that if you weren’t in such an unfortunate situation, you’d give him a pinch to the cheek and an earful to go along with it.

But desperate situations call for desperate measures, so you’re left to hide your face deeper in your knees in a half-assed attempt to play off your terror as sleepiness. Maybe if you didn’t come up with the idea of telling them you were fearless, you could be spending your Halloween curled up on your bed reading a book instead.

Which definitely beats sitting next to Endo, you think. It’s not that you hate him or anything. In fact, a part of you is thankful that the couches are so small- forcing the two of you to press up against each other to make space for the others. It’s just that he knows too much.

In its own way, the warmth of his body provides you with some sort of comfort (though you’d never admit this to him). On the downside, however, there’s not a chance in the world that the nervous tremble of your body is going unnoticed by him. You wonder if that’s why he keeps pushing himself into you every few minutes- like a stray cat persistently nuzzling up against someone they want to go home with.

The other very unfortunate thing about your situation is that you desperately need to use the restroom, but one nervous glance at the hallway immediately kills any slim chance you might’ve had at going on your own.

It’s dark. Pitch black. There’s not one light turned on in the entire house aside from the movie playing out in front of the group, but two hard blinks and a squint for extra measure confirm that there isn’t anything standing in the hallway- for now at least.

“No one’ll judge you if you’re a scaredy pants, y’know.”

You almost jump at the sound of his voice. “I’m not scared,” you respond a bit too fast to come off as unbothered, “and stop looking at me.”

“Hm… if you say so.” His eyes are still on the screen, but he’s smiling once again. “I can always guard you while you pee.”

“No way.”

“Aw..” he feigns disappointment, but perks up when you turn to properly look at him now. “C’mon... why not? It’ll be like a princess and her loyal guard.”

The suggestion makes your face heat up a bit. If your entire friend group hasn’t been actively trying to set you two up for the past few weeks, you’d probably be more likely to accept his help.

“You know it’ll look weird if you come with me to the bathroom,” your voice drops to a whisper because you’re certain you’d never hear the end of this if they saw you two heading there together. “Because if a guy….”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

You give him a look, and he gives you a sheepish laugh in return. “Fine, fine. Don’t look at me like that. I won’t.” He starts to slip off his jacket. “But… don’t blame me if you get eaten alive on your way there.”

An irritated huff slips out of you, but the thought of him protecting you from afar doesn’t seem all that bad. Maybe he might make it to your side in time if a ghost was actually out to get you.

“I said I wasn’t scared of silly things like that.”

He almost laughs at this- you can tell from the way his lips curl up into another smile, and you almost tell him that you think he’s having just a bit too much fun from all this, but he stops you as soon as you open your mouth. “That’s right. I almost forgot again.”

“Then at least take this, princess,” he drapes his jacket around you, hand briefly brushing against your shoulder and your eyes widen. “H-huh? What’re you—”

“Think of it as ghost repellent. To ward off bad things. And….” he leans a little closer now, until his lips brush against the shell of your ear so he can whisper, “don’t worry. I won’t tell them you’re a scaredy cat even if you run back.”

dividers by @adornedwithlight

128 notes · View notes

thecircularsystem · 1 month ago

Text

Well, now I understand why people syscourse. There’s just so much wrong with this that I don’t want to leave it stand.

If you’re interested in a conversation, dissociative-misinfo, I’d be happy to have one. I don’t feel like you really listened the first time, however, so… know that this post is really for everyone else to understand the flaws of your argument.

A huge misconception I saw was people comparing their claimed plurality to DID/OSDD "plurality." People with DID/OSDD are not plural. People with DID/OSDD are 1 person with severe dissociation that causes them to subjectively believe they are multiple identities/people, but the fact is that they are 1 person and 1 identity.

While this may be the physical representation of CDDs, plurality is an umbrella label. The best definition I’ve seen is “the experience of having multiple autonomous agents in one body.” Would you deny that parts, in DID, work apart from one another and have their own goals, desires, and beliefs?

I’m an individual who uses and benefits from parts language over people-based language, but that does not deny the personhood of my parts. They are no less real and significant. To say they don’t count as plurality simply because they’re parts of a whole is to deny that personhood.

There is no harm in identifying as plural, even as a system of parts. I don’t personally identify as plural, but that’s because plural is an opt-in label, and is one that I do not associate with for personal reasons. One can identify as plural and still recover from DID.

Umbrella labels such as plural contain a large population. I agree with you that most endogenic systems don’t have similar presentations of systemhood as DID systems do! But they can all be considered plural if they would like. There is no harm.

I’ll start with the argument that there's so many endos claiming the same thing, and therefore they can't all be lying. Historically speaking there are many instances of millions of people claiming an experience that is scientifically impossible or blatantly false.

How wonderful, then, that endogenic systems have not been proven scientifically impossible or blatantly false.

Take flat earthers, for example. All known science about anything relating to the earth states and proves that it is round, and yet around 10% of the US believes it is flat, among other conspiracies such as the moon landing being fake. Hell, COVID showed us just how many vaccine and illness deniers there are, almost everyone has at least 1 family member they can think of who denied it.

The roundness of the earth is a scientific fact that can be proven. We can see it from space, and have before; we can study the shadows of obelisks and see the curvature through the angles used.

Covid is a scientific fact that can be proven; it exists, we can see it under a microscope and have, and we can prove the quality of vaccines.

Endogenic plurality is not a scientific fact that can be proven, or at least, has not been proven as of yet. It is a completely subjective experience inside one person’s own head. The sheer amount of people who share that experience indicate that something is happening. They indicate that people are experiencing something.

It would be foolish to suggest that all endogenic systems are DID systems, as the majority do not display the symptoms of DID.

It would be foolish to suggest all endogenic systems are faking, for many reasons (harassment, sheer volume of individuals, length of time claimed to be endogenic, etc).

It would be foolish to suggest endogenic systems are experiencing some other disorder, as many are not dysfunctional or distressed by their plurality.

Simply put, sometimes the easiest answer is the best one. Why not just accept, “That group of people over there say they’re experiencing that, and it does me no harm to accept that”?

As for, "I'm not going to deny someone's experiences." You may not, but science does. Would you "not deny someone's experiences" if their experience was beating cancer with essential oils? Maybe you wouldn't outright, but we can both acknowledge what an outlandish and impossible claim that is. Being an 'endogenic system' when a system is a clinical term for people with DID (an inherently trauma-caused condition) is an impossible claim.

Science does not deny endogenic systemhood.

There are no studies, no articles, not even opinion essays from psychologists, which dictate that endogenic systems cannot exist. Trust me, I had been looking for years (up until I realized that I really, really, could not give less of a shit).

An endogenic system claiming to exist is not the same thing as someone beating cancer with essential oils. One is a personal experience, and one is scientifically not happening. Moreover, scientifically “outlandish” does not make something scientifically impossible; I would make sure you use the clearest language possible.

As for “clinical term…”

System is not a clinical term. At least, it hasn’t been for decades now. It’s a community term to discuss the individual parts collectively… collected. The term was taken in the early 2000s from the natural multiplicity movement — but as that happened, the usage of system took less and less prominence in CDD circles. System had grown in all circles to be an identity, rather than a medical term, and not as many people “identified” as systems.

To discount the communal nature of the term System is to discount countless of endogenic plurals from the 2000s and 2010s who had no other terminology to use. They were told they were systems with DID who did not know their trauma, because what other options were there?

Regardless. The term system hasn’t been a strictly medical term for strictly CDD systems for quite some time (or, even, ever; to see more history, I would suggest this post, along with the sources and links in the post).

(If you're going to claim plurality, that is a spiritual and personal claim, and should not involve you calling yourself a system with alters, because those are clinical terms for pwDID/OSDD, people who are not plural)

Unintentionally — or at least, I hope it was unintentional — you’ve said here that pwCDDs cannot be spiritual or have personal claims to plurality.

Again; “system” is not a medical term. “Alters” is not solely medical either. And this is coming from someone who agrees with you that it would be far better if endogenic plurals used “plural” and “headmate” preferably, to delineate experiences. But that’s not a demand I can make of thousands of people. Nor should I; to delineate that would be to out systems who have trauma based on the words they use.

What harm does it cause? If it is known that endogenic systems exist, that they are different from CDDs, and CDD symptoms are actually discussed, then what harm does it cause to identify as plural? Your entire basis here boils down to, “I don’t like that there’s no science behind it.” To which I respond, you must feel great about xenogenders, contradicting labels, and neurodivergent labels.

Another common argument I saw was comparing endogenic plurality to being transgender, a comparison that will always be offensive and upsetting to me as a trans man. Particularly the terms "sysmed" and "traumascum" I find horrifically offensive.

I have discussed at length my thoughts about sysmed and trauamscum. Thankfully the latter of those two terms has seen a sharp fall in popularity as individuals have absolutely realized how ableist it is.

I am a queer individual myself, with a multitude of gender identities, and consider myself to be under the trans umbrella. I also am frustrated when people compare plurality to gender, particularly as someone who chooses their gender.

However. It must be acknowledged that a comparison is not the same as saying, “these two things are exactly the same.” It’s saying, “there are similarities between these two things.” For instance, the similarities in that plurality and gender are both identity-based labels, meaning both are something someone chooses to identify with. Another would be that those who experience plurality openly are prejudiced against, same as those who display their genders openly.

I’m not saying that gender and plurality are the same, or even the most similar. But comparing bigotry, labeling, and community styles of behavior is not a bad thing inherently. People who are trans are allowed to feel their plurality is similar to their gender identity, and you're allowed to feel uncomfortable about that. Both can be true.

As I understand it, endogenics don't claim to have DID/OSDD. So then, why do they claim to be systems? Systems with alters, who split? A multiple system is a clinical term used for people with DID. "Sysmed" implying that being a system is a clinically defined experience is true, because being a system is exclusive to DID/OSDD. Being a system is not being plural.

This is just a repetition of your earlier point, so do we really need to rehash this?

I will say, again, sysmed is a stupid term and I think it should leave the vocabulary of all those in syscourse. Fuck sysmed as a term. All my homies hate sysmed.

As I keep reiterating, people with DID/OSDD are not plural. They are 1 person experiencing a dissociated identity that may feel like being multiple people, but is objectively not. So with 'system' being a DID/OSDD term, endogenics using it are claiming a non-plural DID/OSDD experience, and thus countering their claim to "not be a part of the DID community" or "be a separate community."

Something being objectively true does not erase what feels true. And sometimes, what feels true is better.

For me, for instance, back to the gender examples: I am, objectively, female. But what feels true sometimes is that I am male. Does that mean I am objectively not male? Does that mean I cannot claim to be male when I feel male?

If we put this in context of CDDs, then obviously, the comparison falls apart. After all, DID isn't something I "feel" like I am. It's something I have; an affliction. But plurality is not that way. Plurality is a feeling; a belief system. To say that CDD systems cannot have a belief system... Well now, you're starting to fall into some serious ableism there.

Endogenics are not claiming a plural CDD experience. They're just claiming a plural one, and they (occasionally, with rapidly decreasing popularity) use the term "system," a term which has been community based over medically based for over a decade now, closer to over two.

As far as "traumascum," I genuinely hate anyone who uses that word. Trauma scum? What has to be wrong with you to come up with a slur for people who have experienced childhood trauma and believe in the disorder caused by childhood trauma? Once again it boils down to plurality not relating to trauma or DID/OSDD, because systems are not plural. They are singular people experiencing severe dissociation.

Agreed with you on traumascum, but again, almost everyone agrees on this, regardless of their stance on endogenic systems. If you really want to rally about it, go to ActingNG and complain. They're who you're actually upset about.

Regardless, once again, plurality is something systems can identify with, and you've never identified any harm in identifying as plural.

It's currently well-known that a LOT of autistic people meet the criteria for, or are diagnosed with, (C)PTSD, and it is uncommon for autistic people to survive childhood without trauma. There's rudimentary theories that autistic people may be more likely to develop DID because of their likelihood to experience childhood trauma either due to low tolerance of negative events, and/or the normalized abuse and neglect of special needs children.

Side note, my therapist fully agrees with this, and the way my systemhood interacts with my autism is... HOO. I could go on for years.

I think with that in mind, it makes sense that being autistic might make you more prone to developing DID, but it doesn't make you mixed origin. Even if your autism is what caused you to experience trauma, the trauma is still what caused you to form dissociated parts/a system.

Cool! That does not mean people are not plural. What harm is there in an individual identifying as mixed-origin? For instance, I identify as mixed origin from time to time, when it pleases me to share that. I have a part who split during a nightmare and resurfaced when he was needed. I have two parts who split due to intentional creation. All of them are traumagenic, but knowing why they split and how has been vital to our steps towards FM. Why is it then wrong to acknowledge those origins, if it's helping me heal?

Saying your system is 'neurogenic' because your autism made you vulnerable to trauma would be like me saying my system is 'moralgenic' because my strong morals are often why my mom abused me. It doesn't make sense, and the trauma from the abuse is what actually caused the symptoms, not whatever about me caused me to be abused.

Again, very interested in your thoughts on xenogenders.

Shoutout to anyone who chooses to identify as a xenoorigin to help them better define their system. If it's helpful to you, more power to you.

And lastly a common argument I saw was people saying the endogenic community is simply nicer to them, which doesn't prove their validity, but is really sad. I personally had this experience when I was pro-endo as a kid, because anti-endos seemed so gung ho about their opinion and pro-endos had an 'accepting everyone' vibe that a child me found comforting.

Nothing is going to "prove" endogenic validity, especially not in a way that most anti-endo systems will accept. I think this should be far more of a red flag to you; the fact that so many said that the pro-endo community accepted them, that so many are pushed away from the anti-endo community due to the sheer horrendous quality of that group.

I say this as someone who was hurt immeasurably by pro-endo systems, and found more solace than elsewhere with anti-endo systems.

But then I got older and I realized why anti-endos are so adamant about endogenic systems not being a possible concept. It's because pro-endos will tell young people struggling with dissociation that their trauma wasn't enough and they must be endo, with a smile on their face. It's because endos will use our DID/OSDD terms like system, alter, split, and insert themselves into our healing spaces, with a smile on their face. It's because endos will conflate DID/OSDD experiences with dissociated parts, to the subjective and unproven experience of plurality, with a smile on their face.

Sigh.

As I got older, I realized why anti-endos are so adamant about endogenic systems not being possible. It's because anti-endos look at endogenic systems existing and rally against them. They look at adults and call them horrible, disgusting, spit in their faces, simply for daring to call themselves a system -- a term which has been community based for longer than the term "endogenic" meant "formed without trauma." It's because anti-endos are traumatized, and many of them refuse to realize they are projecting their fears and abuse onto endogenic systems, never knowing how to stop, how to heal, how to grow.

Because endogenic systems do not hurt people.

Can abusive endogenic systems hurt people? Yes! Obviously. But that does not mean every endogenic system is inherently doing the things you listed (just like how not every anti-endo does the things I listed above). And, again, I cannot express enough how I had those same exact experiences.

I just managed to not project them onto every single endogenic system.

To me, it's very reminiscent of how conspiracy theorists will tell you all about their insane beliefs but because they're kind and welcoming many people fall for it. A community being open and welcoming doesn't say anything to the validity of their beliefs. Anti-endos are more assertive because we have so much to lose in the meaning of our disorder and the danger levels of the online community (the danger being endos grooming people into their beliefs and delaying their healing, such as what happened to me), similar to how people hate COVID deniers because many of them have lost people to COVID or have the potential to lose people as a result of anti-masking and "COVID parties."

I wasn't "groomed" by endogenic systems, but I was told I was endogenic repeatedly. This led to me sticking by my abusers for far longer. This does not negate the possibility of endogenic existence. I crashed by car due to endogenic systems feeding me misinformation. This does not negate the possibility of endogenic existence. I was kicked out of the endogenic communities for not being Plural Enough, Pro-Endo Enough, Kind Enough, etc, and so forth, and so on.

And none of that negates what people are experiencing. That's just people being hurt, and newsflash, traumatized people will get hurt, regardless of what origins the person has, if any, who hurts them.

Is there value in discussing the problems with the online community of endogenic systems on tumblr? Absofuckinglutely, and I do so often. But that doesn't negate what people are experiencing, and doesn't somehow prove that endogenic systems don't exist. It honestly just speaks to me how horrible syscourse is, and how everyone needs educated on CDDs -- something you consistently fail to do on your blog left and right, as you refuse to acknowledge the autonomy of CDD systems repeatedly, even just within this post.

LET PEOPLE FUCKING LIVE THEIR LIVES. I beg this of you.

It genuinely is not hurting us, anymore so than a normal ass person could hurt us.

I see you mention therians. You don't mind them cause they aren't medical. Neither are endogenics. Please just.... stop. Go focus on recovery -- not on endogenic systems and telling DID systems they're not allowed to be plural.

#ough #syscourse #beauty and poison go hand in hand

31 notes · View notes