#but i was talking with wafer about them and i wanted to share with the class <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[rosurie]

quick explanation of damsel and kylar’s dynamic

[cloudcountry]

the first ice cream cone

SUMMARY: You take Malleus on an ice cream date! Except...something doesn't go as planned.

CHARACTERS: Malleus Draconia

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: I wrote this for a friend, but someone on quotev requested something for Malleus too!! I hope you enjoy it (and I have a baking oneshot in the works too C:)

~~~~~

You’d done some research before taking Malleus out on a date, asking Lilia what he seemed to like the most whenever they went on their outings. Lilia seemed amused at your question, but humored you with a slice of knowledge.

“He loves ice cream. It’s his favorite!” Lilia hummed, sipping on the tomato juice you brought him as a bribe, “Just don’t buy him any cake to go with it—the last time I bought him a cake, he ate the entire thing. He had really bad heartburn and has now sworn off of them.”

Now here you were. Standing outside of a nearby ice cream shop with a terrifyingly strong dragon man on your arm. He didn’t seem like it though, his eyes wide and full of wonder.

“Child of man…” he shook your arm gently, “Is this an ice cream shop?”

“Yes! I was hoping it’d be a good first date idea…I even talked to Lilia to make sure I wouldn’t do anything wrong.” you nodded, proud of your planning.

“It’s wonderful.” a smile flickered across his face, “Shall we?”

You dragged him inside first, insisting on paying with the limited amount of money Crowley had allowed you this week. You’d been saving up for a few weeks just in case, so anything Malleus wanted to try on this date would be his.

“Fascinating.” his stare was owlish as he blinked at the two scoop cones he ordered.

“I was surprised you went for pistachio.” you hummed, leading him to a bench outside.

“I was curious. I’ve never had this flavor before.” he eyed it up before taking a lick.

You watched him eat for a bit before you remembered your own ice cream, still watching him. He never looked this peaceful when he was in school, likely because Sebek and Silver would trail him constantly. You were lucky you could sneak him away for a little bit—there’s no doubt Sebek was probably losing his marbles over Malleus’ disappearance right now.

“Thank you for getting me away for a little while.” he said, placing a hand over yours.

“It’s no problem. You deserve it.” you wrapped your fingers around his hand and squeezed.

He chuckled, but said nothing else. You two enjoyed the ice cream and the quiet bustling of the outside world, without Lilia or Sebek or Silver or Ace or Deuce. Or Grim, actually. Especially Grim.

“Oh.” Malleus huffed, sounding alarmed.

You glanced over, watching as he clutched his head dramatically.

“Is everything okay?” you placed your hand on his back, watching him closely just in case he decided to pass out on you.

“Child of man…I believe I have been poisoned. My head…is collapsing.” he groaned, his grip on his ice cream cone beginning to crush the wafer.

“Are you…are you talking about a brain freeze?” you furrowed your brow, baffled at one of the strongest mages crumpled over at your feet from a little brain freeze.

“What is that? Will my brain turn to ice? I assure you, I am not so weak as to collapse—”

“Malleus.”

“I can handle myself. I shall consult the library as soon as possible so this disease cannot fester.”

“Malleus.”

“Child of man, I thank you for the brief pleasantries we shared before there was an attack on my life.”

“Malleus, listen to me.” you grabbed his arms, pulling him up, “It’s not fatal. A brain freeze is harmless. It’ll be gone in a minute. I promise.”

Malleus halted his dramatic hand movements staring at you in wonder.

“Child of man, your knowledge knows no bounds. I feel better already.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed deeply.

Well, it wouldn’t be Twisted Wonderland if you could go on a normal date.

[katy-133]

Rick Sanchez Showing Signs of ASD for 30 Images

(Re-posting this from a previous reblog I posted in. For organisational purposes.)

(Using some notes from CDC.gov and NHS.uk)

“People with [autism spectrum disorder (ASD)] often have problems with social communication and interaction, and restricted or repetitive behaviors or interests. People with ASD may also have different ways of learning, moving, or paying attention. It is important to note that some people without ASD might also have some of these symptoms.” - Signs and Symptoms of Autism Spectrum Disorder, CDC.gov

Similar to the above quote, some of the below examples can be explained through Doylist (meta) explanations (for example, Rick usually wears the same clothes because that's a common trope in animation, due to asset limitations and marketing/merchandise reasons).

With that in mind:

Bad sensory, overstimulation: Rick preferring to eat just noodles (possibly due to texture/taste aversion), instead of having what everyone else in the family is having.

Getting very upset if someone touches or gets too close: Rick pushing Morty away when Morty runs up to hug him.

Stimming (repetitive performance of certain physical movements or vocalisations) by moving his fists in a celebratory shaking motion in multiple episodes.

Gets upset by minor changes. Rick getting mad at Morty for changing the position of his car seat, refusing to leave a dangerous situation until it's re-adjusted.

Rick: "Wait, did you f**k with my seat settings?!"

Having the same routine every day and getting very anxious if it changes: Rick being upset that Morty is busy and can't go on an adventure with him (like in a typical episode).

Gastrointestinal issues (for example, constipation). An episode focuses on Rick needing to go to a custom planet (that felt safe and secluded) to use the toilet and feeling great distress upon learning that someone else found the planet.

Has a safe food that is seeked out for comfort. Rick likes wafers. He's seen getting them from the kitchen in multiple episodes, Beth makes sure the house is stocked with them, and the Citadel of Ricks even has its own factory to produce them.

Referencing good sensory: Rick talking in detail about pancakes covered in syrup, not wanting the pancakes to go bad.

Rick: "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got pancakes back home with syrup on top of them. They're about to hit that critical point of syrup absorption that turns the cakes into a gross paste. And I hate to get all Andy Rooney about it, but I think we all like fluffy discs of cake with syrup on top!"

And Rick enjoying pancakes in S1E10 and S4E2:

Has obsessive interests. Rick becoming hyper-focused on giant mecha collecting and Morty reminding him to not go overboard on his new hyperfixation.

Morty: "Sometimes, enough is... ?" Rick: (Sadly) "Sometimes enough is enough."

Liking to plan things carefully before doing them: Rick keeping various helpful inventions in his lab coat just in case he needs them later (Vindicators episode).

Infodumping (to excitedly share a large amount of information about a highly-focused subject or passion at one time, usually in great detail and length).

Finding it hard to talk about feelings: Rick having hesitation in apologising and explaining his thoughts and feelings to Jerry.

Rick: "If I'm genuinely cool, I should be able to love you. Which I... therefore do."

Avoids or does not keep eye contact: Rick looking away or breaking eye contact with Morty. Image set of Morty calling him out:

Rick breaking eye contact while lying to Morty:

Having a preferred outfit to wear each day (can be cause of sensory issues). Rick wearing the same blue shirt for over 40 years (we see in flashbacks that it was brighter and has faded with time).

Unusual speech patterns, such as stuttering. Rick's stuttering decreases as seasons progress.

Vocal stimming (when someone repeats a specific sound or phrase to produce sensory stimulation). Some autistic children find it easier to make up their own words. Rick repeatedly saying, "wubba lubba dub dub." He will also repeat his own words (echolalia) immediately afterwards.

Delay edecholalia, scripting (when someone "saves" exact phrases and uses them later to make social situations easier). Rick (in The Ricks Must Be Crazy) remembers Morty's comment, "that just sounds like slavery with extra steps" and uses it later to try and win an argument with another scientist.

Not picking up social cues, finding it hard to understand what others are thinking or feeling. Rick making a joke and then realising the other person is in too much distress to laugh with him (has done this with both Morty and Jerry).

Rick: "You're not laughing?" (Expression changes upon realising) "Oh, right. You're dying."

Unconventional grief response, "inappropriate" facial expressions, lack of fear: Rick reacting to burying himself in a less uneasy way than Morty.

"To the point" style of social interaction. Rick often speaks bluntly and is seen as rude by other characters in response.

Rick: "Everyone, f**k off. Morty, I need your help."

Has a terrible memory but can remember ridiculously difficult information if it interests him. Rick forgets his portal gun and leaves it behind, but can remember the formula for various chemical reactions without using a reference (ending of M.Night Shaym-Aliens!).

And finally...

President Curtis referencing Rick's neurodivergency:

Rick's comment:

Rick: "I'm not touching that thing,"

Rick finding a roundabout way to let Morty know that he (Rick) also has ASD:

Rick: "Is this game popular with autistic people?" Morty: "Why would you say something like that?" Rick: "Because I'm starting to love it."

Wish I could have added more examples, but 30 images is Tumblr's current post limit.

(I understand that the potential meme joke by OP is that the "NOT YOU" image is of Rick from season 1, versus his markedly changed characterisation in season 5-onwards, that focused more on coding Rick as neurodivergent.)

I hope this has been in some part educational for a few readers. Happy Autism Acceptance Month.

But now for the disclaimer bit: Don't take it from me, learn more about ASD.

[sixeyescurseuser]

Thinking about a Monster high AU. 

Vampire Gojo stands frozen in the teacher lounge as the new history teacher is introduced, realizing he had met the Frankenstein monster the week prior during their mind-blowing one night stand. 

Apparently, Geto’s children - werewolf twins - transferred to Jujutsu High, which is why he took a teaching job. 

(Gojo thinking: “So that’s why he STINKS”)

Gojo fakes nonchalance as he takes in his new colleague. But after initial introductions, it seems Geto doesn’t plan on acknowledging what happened between them at all!

Unfortunately, this means he occupies Gojo’s mind even more, the vampire inevitably revisiting the steamy night they had shared. 

Gojo then convinces himself that Geto is at risk of sharing their little escapade. It literally doesn’t even matter, Gojo is just very private about his personal life. Plus, who knows which ghouls and freaks would latch on to any gossip regarding the legendary heir of the Gojo family. 

So what does Gojo do?

He bothers Geto whenever he can, keeping an eye on who Geto interacts with and what topics he brings up. Can it technically be considered stalking? Sure, but Gojo must conduct a thorough investigation first to lift any suspicious intentions.

Definitely has nothing to do with meeting the daily quota of Suguru sightings…

(Geto, three weeks into the school year: “Why are you still following me around?”

Gojo, who had been tailing him during their lunch break: “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”)

*** The thing is, Gojo was so intent on threatening this guy - who was honestly maybe his best fuck ever - but he ends up finding out how nice Geto is.

Gojo hears about how the students talk about Geto-sensei; they rave over his thorough explanations and humor, as well as his approachable demeanor where you can talk to him about nearly anything. 

Geto doesn’t even blow up when Gojo keeps pestering him.

Once, they were passing by a bakery while arguing, and Geto came to a stop. He wiped a hand down his face, then asked, “Hey, I was going to get some pastries for the girls for after school. I’m assuming you’re joining me?”

Gojo, lying: “Sure, but I won’t get anything.”

Geto: “Why not? You literally ordered room service dessert after we-“ he cuts himself off, mockingly zipping his lips shut. “Never mind. I just think you’re a sweets kind of person.”

Gojo narrows his eyes. You got me there, he wants to say.

But just because he’s stubborn, Gojo just pats Geto’s shoulder and opens the door for them to enter.

Gojo does end up sneaking a few treats for himself. Geto smartly doesn’t say anything, but his lips slightly turn up into a smirk.

During teacher meetings, Gojo observes how Geto interacts with the other teachers and the administrators. Calmly stating his opinions and asking other colleagues who haven’t had the chance to speak up for their input. Geto backs Gojo up on many decisions too, a strong supporting voice in the face of the stickly higher ups. 

Why … is Geto so good at this?

On another occasion, Utahime was absent for the meeting, so Gojo just took her seat and sat beside Geto. The meeting proceeded like usual, though both were hyper aware of just how close together they sat.

Gojo never gave Utahime her seat back after that. 

This continues for a few weeks and quite frankly, Gojo admits he enjoys Geto’s company. The same can be said for Geto, seeing as he just rolls with Gojo’s same line of, “I’m here to make sure you don’t tell anyone about you-know-what.”

They fall into an easy dynamic of bickering back and forth, like when they fight over the last pack of wicked wafers from the vending machine.

Gojo yanks on Geto’s wrist so hard, Geto’s hand pops off. 

“You fucking fool! Give me my hand back!” Geto shouts, lunging for the vampire. Gojo just laughs maniacally and runs around the room from the angry monster.

By the end of the second month, they begin calling each other by their first names. 

Now, instead of voicing his suspicions of the new teacher to Shoko, Gojo only tells stories about Geto: how and why he gets his stitches, surprising Nanako and Mimiko for their birthday by cooking their favorite meal and dressing up to play haunted ball, interesting ideas Geto’s students brought up in class, etc.

Shoko just crosses her arms with raised eyebrows and a knowing look.

The final nail in the coffin for Gojo's dead heart happens like this: Gojo is in the middle of teaching quantum physics when he suddenly gets super nauseous.

If it were a typical stomach ache, he’d just endure it until the class ends, then assess. But even then, Gojo rarely gets stomach aches. 

And this kind of nausea can only explain one thing.

While the students complete their lab, Gojo glances at the half-finished straw-scary milkshake on his desk.

The barista had been a vampire as well, and probably recognized Gojo by his stark white hair and piercing blue eyes. A staple of the Gojo clan, world’s different from red or pink or violet eyes that vampires commonly have.

The straw-scary milkshake is a vegan drink with basic milkshake ingredients. 

But somehow, his drink had been made with blood.

And Satoru, part of the Gojo clan, the Gojo covenant, doesn’t drink blood.

His stomach cramps up even further.

Then, as if Geto had a seventh sense, he lets himself into Gojo’s classroom not even a minute later.

“Hey, I had leftover frankenbites in the lounge. I brought some in case you wanted them before I put them in the lounge,“ Geto says, approaching Gojo with a bag. Upon seeing Gojo’s pinched expression, Geto tilts his head inquisitively. “What’s wrong?”

“Whaddya mean? Nothing is wron-“ Gojo answers right as a sharp pain shoots from his stomach to his chest, causing the vampire to wince.

“Liar,” Geto says. He pulls Gojo by the wrist and out of the classroom.

Unable to protest, Gojo is sent home by an adamant Geto and Shoko. 

“I have two more classes,” Gojo tries to argue, but Geto just shakes his head.

“I already spoke with Yu-kun. We can cover one class each with our free periods,” he says.

“But-“

“Just go, Satoru. You have stuff at home that will help with your nausea,” Geto firmly insists. Gojo slightly wilts, bummed out that he has to leave all because his tummy acts up when digesting the very thing that vampires are known for consuming.

Geto’s eyes soften as he places a hand on Gojo’s shoulder. “Text me with updates, okay?”

If Gojo’s heart still beat, it would be racing right now. 

(Gojo: “Of course. Don’t worry, you won’t get rid of me that easily!”)

Gojo arrives home and rides out the pain - with the help of his special meds. 

He texts Geto updates like he asked for, and more. 

They talk non-stop all weekend, leading up to Gojo’s return to school the following Monday. They happen to catch each other in the teacher lounge an hour before classes start. 

Gojo takes three long strides to arrive where Geto stands in front of the coffee machine. Geto remains unfazed by Gojo’s closeness. In fact, a gentle smile graces his lips, one that crinkles his eyes.

“Welcome back, stalker,” Geto greets. Gojo leans down slightly, bright blue eyes sparkling with emotion.

“I changed my mind. I don’t care who knows,” he says brightly. “In fact, let’s tell everyone!”

Before Geto has time to be confused on what exactly Gojo means, the vampire kisses him. Geto lets out a small gasp, their lips molding together perfectly-

Geto shoves Gojo back by his shoulders. 

“You idiot, we can’t do that here!” Geto whisper-shouts. Gojo freezes, instantly regretting his actions. 

“Fuck, you’re right. I’m so sorry-“

Except Geto grabs hold of Gojo’s collar and yanks him back in for another kiss. Gojo hums happily, and their bodies enter a familiar, sensual tango.

A moment later, Utahime sure has the surprise of a lifetime when she walks into the teacher’s lounge.

[kissorkill16]

Why Her?: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Trinity wonders why Nicky is hanging out with Finch now.

As I was just about to go sit with my friends, I noticed Finch in the corner of my eye, standing next to her friends.

I couldn't help but listen in on their conversation.

"There's no room for you at this table, Finch.", said one of the girls with brown hair in pigtails. She waved a hand at her, signaling her to go away.

Finch tried to speak, "But -"

"Look, Finch. You've been around that nerdy ass Inventor's Club for too long, just like Delroy. We warned you what would happen to you if you followed in his footsteps and now look where we are now.", said a girl with blonde hair and a white tank top. "So you can sit somewhere else today, you're not allowed to sit with us anymore."

"We'll keep Sick Nick's newspaper article you made as a memory of you!", said a girl with red, curly hair.

Finch turned around and walked away, her head bent down to her lunch tray to hide her sad face.

I was about to go comfort her, but my friends waved me over to them, so I went to sit with them.

As we ate our lunch together, I couldn't help but notice that Nicky was taking too long to come here. I looked around the field for him, but I couldn't find him anywhere.

"Do you guys know where Nicky is?", I asked my friends.

Enzo shrugged, "He's probably not hungry.", he said.

"Enzo, he's been to lunch multiple times, sometimes without any food. He'd still come here even if he's not hungry.", said Maritza. "He probably tried one of the happy burgers, you know those things are a real shit factory in your stomach."

Delroy pretended to throw up and put a hand in front of his face, "Dude, TMI!"

As they bickered, I decided to just go find Nicky myself.

I finished my lunch and walked away from my friends, wondering where in the school Nicky could be.

I searched all around the school, but I still couldn't find him anywhere. I was beginning to think that maybe he went home early or something...

But then I heard his voice come from the dumpster in the alley.

I quickly walked to the wall of the school and peeked behind it, and I couldn't believe what I was seeing when I did.

Nicky was sitting in the middle of two dumpsters with Finch. They were eating lunch together and Finch was sharing a box of vanilla wafers with Nicky.

The two were talking to each other. They were really talking to each other, and Finch wasn't making rude comments to him or hiding anything behind her back to use on him to embarrass him.

As I witnessed this, I couldn't help but feel a little...I don't know...jealous.

Maybe a little angry.

I knew Finch long enough to know she was a bully and a popular girl. Maybe not anymore now that her little gang of middle school Barbies kicked her out of the group, but she could still be rude if she wanted to.

I didn't trust her even when she looked innocent when Nicky made her a part of the club, and I still don't trust her now.

As I turned to walk away, I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Delroy standing behind me.

"Shh! They'll hear us!", he whispered. I noticed that he was holding his phone in his hand, "I want to record this so I have something to use against her later."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, but I shook my head and walked away to go back to the table, but then Delroy said something that really made my heart plummet.

"Yeah, Finch is really down bad for Nicky.", he said.

I walked back to the table, my heart in my stomach and my eyes completely wide.

But why did I care so much?

I didn't like Nicky, maybe as a friend, I did. I like his eyes, but that's it. I don't like like him in that way.

So then why did I care so much that he was hanging out with Finch instead of me us?

[greatwyrmgold]

I wrote a support message to AO3 about planned changes to their tag system, purging "All Media" tags in favor of making you specify what specific Spider-Man movie/cartoon/run of comics you are writing Spider-Man fanfiction about. You shouldn't copy what I wrote, but I like what I wrote enough that I wanted to share it.

I have heard that AO3 is planning to get rid of "All Media Type" tags, forcing every fanfic to specify what specific piece of media they are based on.

Why?

The authors who write fanfic about specifically (for instance) the Spider-Man from the Amazing Spider-Man movies are vastly outnumbered by authors who write about Spider-Man the character, either drawing bits and pieces from every version they've seen or read or heard, or writing about the idea of Spider-Man independent of any particular incarnation. How should those stories be tagged? Tag every piece of Spider-Man media you referenced or drew inspiration from?

The readers who read fanfic about specifically (for instance) the Monogatari manga are vastly outnumbered by readers who don't really care about the differences between light novel/manga/anime canon and just want to read more about Koyomi Araragi. Splitting Monogatari across three or more tags will make it harder for those readers to find stories they'd like, because they either have to search three separate tags or miss two-thirds of Monogatari fanfiction which didn't tag all versions.

But that's the default for anime/manga already, which I find incredibly irritating. I love crossovers—either the author needs to blend elements of two disparate settings into one (which is neat), or you get a wild fish-out-of-water story where you understand everything that's going on while the characters barely understand anything (which is fun). So with some regularity, I will attempt to specifically search for crossover fanfiction…and if I do that for manga series which have been adapted to anime, I get bombarded by pages of crossovers between Chainsaw Man (Manga) and Chainsaw Man (Anime), which are not what I'm looking for.

But hey, at least I'm not someone who dislikes crossovers and wants to filter them out. If I did that, I'd have to ignore either half or 96% of the non-crossover CSM fanfic on the site.

I've seen tons of people on Tumblr talking about how this will affect their fandoms. I think about how much I'm irritated by anime/manga being split into two separate tags—tags which are nearly identical, except that fics posted before the anime adaptation was released won't have the anime tag—and I think about how much worse that would be in the Transformers fandom, or the Marvel/DC fandoms, or any of the other fandoms which have existed for multiple decades under different authors.

I can see all these people who would be inconvenienced by splintering multimedia tags like this. But I can't imagine who would find it convenient.

Nobody writes fanfiction based on an intellectual property, or a continuity, or a specific set of images or words. They write fanfiction based on characters, or settings, or plots. They write fanfic about ideas, ideas which can transcend the paper or film or silicon wafers they originate from. Is AO3 an archive of addenda to notable films or books or games? Or is it an archive of fanworks?

[onlyswan]

asdflflgjfjdk i was right in the middle of rereading your drabble in wich they met for the first time (just got to the part where kookie munching oc’s precious strawberry wafers) on my laptop!! and then i saw your notif! fr i was wondering the same thing about how people and armies perceive their relationship. but then i decided to just leave it to myself to think that he publicly let his fans know that he’s in a relationship (a very very happy one might i add 😌) bc honestly i want him and tannies to feel free to share the people they love with the world and their fans being happy for them and support them nonetheless — and i love that jk and oc can go to public places to go on dates like normal couples do without disruption and anxieties 🥹🫶🏻 and yes, maybe some people recognize them and they go ‘😱‼️😍’ but i wish that is all.

also, let’s be real here. if jungkook’s significant other is oc (with their lovely personality and sense of humor and kindness), then they’re MY SO jungkook, they’re OUR SO. –how can you not love oc?– sharing is caring jungkookaa. break their heart and i’ll break yours (sorry i’m protective over my little bean oc)

sorry i’m just so excited about coincidence like this and i chose being delusional as my coping mechanism 🥹 Happy weekend my love!!

-🌷

omg no way??? are you kidding this is the cutest coincidence ☹️🫶🏼 and yessss this is what i’m talking about !! you can imagine it as you like. whatever floats your boat we can have different ways of looking at things 👍🏼 we’re just vibing over here in this little universe

(a very very happy one might i add 😌)

WHO IS CHOPPING THE ONIONS 😭😭😭

AND CAN I JUST SAY THAT I LOVE HOW MUCH YOU LOVE OC 😭 i’m living for it and i find it so endearing. like i used to think that they might not be liked as much but i guess i was wrong? 🥹 thank you so much lovely tulip anonie <333 🤍 have a wonderful week ahead!

[teabiscuit-bakes]

Banana Pudding Recipe

Hello once again guys! Today we will be making the fluffiest and creamiest dessert I can name aside from ice-cream, banana pudding! My mama just taught me this recipe and I immediately had to share.

It’s actually been a while since she and I last spent time alone together. After Granny Betty passed a couple years ago a lot of big things happened; mom finally graduated from college, she also got pregnant and the Army had us move again, but this time we moved to Hawaii! It’s actually really nice here, it’s so warm all the time and I always get to play at the beach. But mama is always busy with my new baby sister, not that I mind she’s so adorable. She’s so tiny but she cries so much so that keeps mom preoccupied with her. And dad’s always at work still, he love us a lot but he’s always gone. They make him go out to the “field” a lot more often here than they ever did. He’s always gone for days and weeks at a time, I miss him sometimes. I wonder when we’ll even spend time together again the way we used to before we moved here.

We’re really far from all of our family here, sometimes one our relatives will move over to where we are or come visit often but now we’re too far away. My grandma Tam managed to come visit to help my mama with the baby for a week but I think it will be the last time I see her for a while. But in turn of all that we’ve made family with some of the people here instead and we’re gonna spend Thanksgiving with them!!! We’re going to cook here at my house and then head over to Mr. Derek’s house, he’s one of my dad’s good friends. There usually aren’t many 3rd graders, or children, around like me but all the adults like to talk to me! They all think I’m very mature and smart, I love to tell them about all the books I read and all the sea creatures. I really want to work with ocean animals one day they’re so cool and interesting. Mr. Cloudy and Ms. Whitney talk to me the most, I think it’s because they both have kids too. Most of the kids around are pretty young or are old enough to be annoyed by me, I try to keep quiet but I just have so much to say all the time. Sometimes I just sit and hold my little sister, Taraji, if the adults are talking and none of the other kids are around. She’s cool to hang around and watch cartoons, and she can’t complain if I talk too much. It’s been kind of hard to get mama to talk to me because she’s always busy with Taraji but that’s okay, Taraji is fun to talk to when she isn’t crying. I’m not necessarily ignored, it’s just a lot less attention than I usually get. I spent the first 8 years of my life wanting a sister to share clothes ans play dolls with and now I have one… she just can’t play dolls or play dress up (plus she cries a lot). I’ve learned to be “responsible” since she’s been born though! I change her diapers sometimes and I get to feet her if my parent want a break; I’ve even learned how to burp her!!!

I miss having other family around but I’m happy to have the moment I had with my mama, it’s the first time something like that happened in a while! And now to the recipe!!!!

Ingredients

2 packets of instant vanilla pudding

2 tubs of Cool whip

Bananas

Vanilla wafers (buy 2 boxes so you can eat the rest)

3 bananas, sliced (or more depending on the person)

Instructions

Grab your mothers hand, a feeling grown slightly foreign, but warm as she guides you to measure the ingredients of the pudding package

Grab a spoon full of whipped cream and enjoy it as a small treat and add the rest into your pudding mixture

Grab a pan or decorative bowl to your liking (my mama has a glass flower shaped bowl we use) and layer up your pudding, cookies, and bananas until pudding is gone

Sit with your mama and eat cookies and bananas together while you watch a movie as you wait for your pudding to chill for about 3 hours.

That’s all today everyone!!!! I hope you enjoy this wonderful dessert as much as I do and remember to comment if you enjoy it! Until next time everyone, enjoy!

[namelessweapons]

@8luelight [Sorry I didn't wanna just hit reply on my cringemain failblog]

Under a cut bc I cannot shut up. And I want to make it clear that I am actually pissed on behalf of Psychkin too, but I can't talk about it, because I cannot relate to it, and I did not want to speak on something that is not my experience to speak on.

Honestly, and I mean this in the kindest way possible, because I do respect psychkin, they were not mentioned in the essay because, well, it has nothing to do with them, I had no thoughts on them because I wasn't thinking about them, because I am not one!

To go further indepth as to what I mean, I have a friend who I adore, they've got psych roots and spiritual roots, I will gladly listen to their psych stuff, but I cannot engage with it the way I can with spirituality because I am 0% psychological kin and ergo not only have no desire, but have no right to intrude on their spaces. I would be, and am, fine with them using the word Fictotheist, because they do also have spiritual roots. System stuff, to be clear.

If you're wondering what that means for the term 'Fictotheism', I have no issue with sharing it with people who are partially psych and partially spiritual, their experiences are still religious, however, it was not made with psychkin in mind, and if asked I would say;

'If your experiences aren't religious, if your existence isn't spiritual, why do you feel the need to use my word made exclusively to name a religion?'

I do consider the use of 'Fictionkin' for psych kin and spiritual kin alike part of the early 'muddying the waters' of the original word and I do wish that right out of the gate there had been another word, however, I also think 'Fictionkin' was always a word that was going to be muddied, it's ethereal, it has a thin sheetlike qualia too capable of covering too many things.

Again, I do believe they're valid, 100% so, those experiences are very real, but I have as much in common with psychological kin as a Catholic has with someone who likes the way communion wafers taste, {we're both freaks} no, that was a joke, but the actual answer is 'we have nothing in common, other than eating communion wafers' which does not a religion make, the communion-wafer eater doesn't care what church their communion wafers come from, nor their relationship to the Body of Christ, it is not a Religious Experience, I will gladly be friends with someone who's favorite snack is Communion Wafers, but I would also politely recommend they get their Communion Wafers off amazon instead of showing up to Friday Mass to interrupt the preacher to ask for more Communion Wafers.

So I suppose the short version of my opinion is, I respect Psychkin, I think it's very real, it's a real experience, who the fuck am I to tell someone what's real? I think they should be defended, I even think they deserve a new word too because honestly I feel like 'fictionkin' has been muddied for them too, and I hate that, like I hate it as much as I hate having my original word taken from me, it isn't fair, if someone makes a word just for them, I will signal boost the fuck out of it immediately.

But the word I created was not made to include them, and it was on purpose.

[attackedbytwees]

Yesterday I attended my grandmother's funeral.

In the eulogy, we first heard how she was born into a working class mining family during WW2, and went on to pass the grammar school entrance exam a year early, at the age of 10. And that was the last we heard about Janet herself.

She met my grandfather at 17, and from then on was a dutiful wife, mother, and servant of God and the Church. 81 years of life, condensed into a list of her husband's achievements, jobs, and relocations; her children's marriages to Good Christian™ partners; the names of the church clubs she volunteered for.

At the beginning of the sermon, the vicar said that "Janet would have wanted the focus to be on Jesus", and he certainly followed through on that. Several times he referred to what "Janet might have said" about various lines of scripture. Not what she had said. Just what she might have said. Hardly surprising, given that the depth of his personal tribute was that she "had a nice smile" and "liked a joke".

Not once during the service or wake did anyone stand up and talk about who she was as a person, or share a fond memory.

My grandfather, beaming, said he it was the best funeral he'd ever been to.

My Gran deserved better. So here are a few memories.

All her life she loved to travel - from a road trip in a tiny overloaded car to Switzerland as a young woman, to multiple trips to the USA, to bus tours across Europe with a retirees' travel group. She was a National Trust member, and enjoyed going round stately homes and gardens around the UK, then coming home and painting watercolours of the flowers she saw. She had a great memory for facts, she could tell you the names not only of every US state, but every state capital. Whenever they would come back from a holiday, she was fastidious in making sure that every detail of the stories was accurate - for instance, whether it was ham or cheese in that sandwich they had in that one hotel in that one place - which always made the telling take twice as long.

Despite being a keen traveller, Gran's palate never expanded to match the stamps on her passport. Korma may be the standard curry order for spice-intolerant white people, but even that was a step too far for her. Whenever we'd order from the local Indian takeaway, she would order boiled white rice, and cook up some chicken in a bechamel sauce with sweetcorn for herself. This even extended to drinks - making instant coffee, she'd say that if you couldn't count the granules on the spoon it was too much coffee for her. She told me as a child that sugar had clockwise and anti-clockwise granules, so you always had to stir both ways. I still think of that when I make someone tea with sugar.

Any time she might see the grandchildren she would bring her biscuit tin, a battered old ice cream tub that was older than some of the children being offered biscuits from it. They were the good ones as well: Viscount, Gold, Club, Tunnock's Caramel, but also some pink wafer biscuits because her mum (my Great Gran) liked them. When anyone picked a Club bar, she'd sing the jingle from the TV adverts. When my family got a dog, she started bringing custard cream biscuits too, because dogs can't eat chocolate but everyone in the family deserved a biscuit. At Christmas, she'd wrap up a packet of custard creams with the dog's name on the label.

Whenever it was time to go after visiting, she'd say "I'll love you and leave you", in her Midlands accent that withstood nearly half a century living in the South. After all this time, she finally has.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Bill shifts in his pilot's seat and turns his head to regard Beth, sitting at the nearby data console and sifting her way through all manner of notes he's collected on Earth cultures. Ostensibly her original intent had been to fill in gaps in knowledge for him... but now the young SHIELD agent seems more interested in installing gentle corrections on conduct that might lead to faux pas. Serving particular foods, for instance. Evidently 'communion wafers' are improper and inadequate sustenance for large gatherings of culturally disparate sentients.

"I wish to ask you something," he remarks. "You speak very little of your family... your blood relatives. But you offer glowing reference to others you have met in life. I find kinship in this, as I heartily claim Thor as my brother, though we share no common ancestry. Loki and I are considered adoptive sons of Asgard, a title that can be as assuring as it sometimes is burdensome. Your heart has bidden you to speak with great fondness for your friends and allies -- as examples, your Agent Coulson... Doctor Strange... the amazing Spider-Man. Do you find a similar sense of adoption among them? Having adopted them as your own, or been adopted by... or even a life oath?"

Three of a Kind || Accepting

She had to laugh about the wafers, all hushed tones and smile obscured by her hands, and a mental note that she has one more thing to confess the next time she can make it by Sacred Heart. Then she goes through the whole explanation recalled from memory of her catechism classes, about transubstantiation, grace through the Eucharist, and Catholicism in general. Extremely hard when several points of reference also have to be explained and when the person receiving the information might not understand the belief, the implication and well�� the cannibalism of it all. This will probably need a lot more explanation in the future, if it doesn't bother him right out of that armour of his. She wouldn't blame him for being squicked, it's almost ridiculous trying to type it out. Thankfully though, Bill ushers her away from the screen just after all those thoughts flit into her mind and saves her from any real close-contact with blaspheme. His plangent tone wraps around her as warm and silky as the depth of midnight, and makes her swim to the surface. He isn't wrong. She really doesn't talk about her family; the mother who abandoned her and seemed to forget her in favour of someone else's children, the Admiral who seemed to despise every breath she took for no reason she could ever fathom, the brother who had died on foreign soil fighting in a war that wasn't his in the first place. Her grandfather who after all this time only visits rarely and only then to ensure her safety from the rest of his kin. What is there to say about it, these stories that he's perhaps already heard before from any number of people that he's met? Or maybe she's being so insular to keep her own unhappiness at bay. Beth struggles with feeling valid, worthy to be in a world that seemingly doesn't want her. There is something a little brittle in her expression when he mentions the Asgardians. She's never in their brief interactions fallen afoul of the Thunderer, if anything he'd best be said to have been kind or deceptively cruel, in trying to smooth over her initial interactions with his sibling. But Beth is ever so careful to remain neutral on the matter of Loki. On one hand, xe killed Coulson. On the other, xer destiny goes beyond any gift of sight or sense of fate that she can claim, and who is she to say these were not all things set into motion by the universe itself? It could also be that she is afraid someone will use her softness for Loki for something truly evil. He can probably see the moment each name steals her breath but lights up her brain, the connections and emotions she associates with them. And the complex narrative she needs to weave now, which she wishes she had Loki's way with stories. "I suppose I should start with Ku'uku'u…ah…Spider-man, as you call him. He is wonderful. Such a good and deeply compassionate heart that will not allow him to do anything but the greatest good that he can. He is noble and he is a hero, never doubt that truth. I think in some world, maybe more, he and I could have made as you say…a life-oath. But anyone who does has to know they will always be second or third behind his need to save the one life he couldn't. That his drive and his connection to Spider takes up so much of his soul that he fears love. Fears sharing his life and believe me he has reason. I don't fault him for that."

It's all she can say without mentioning anything that might compromise the identity behind the mask, something she won't do for anyone, no matter how much she cares for them. She is loyal to Peter, and she loves Peter maybe more than he ever knew. But Beth is also a little selfish and she can only come in last so many times before even her heart breaks. She knows that maybe she isn't a good fit for him, not that way.

"So I suppose…maybe our relationship is like hanai-brother and sister. Like you and Thor. Fun fact, he's actually a couple years younger than me, too. So there's that." She offers a modest lift of one corner of her mouth. The seed of a smile perhaps that fades when she begins to speak again. A bright brush-stroke of sorrow paints her gaze with a crystalline clarity, and she cannot bring herself to look him straight on. Her chin dips. "I…I don't know if…or what…Korbinites consider their Hōkūpa'a, which in my native language means steadfast star, and is what we call Polaris, the constant north star which has been used for navigation and sea-faring since I don't even know how long. But it's very important. So I suppose you could say my personal Hōkūpa'a is the Doctor. He was the reason I chose my medical school, he guided and guarded me every step of the way through the learning process, and if I hadn't…made some choices, I'd still be with him now. There is little of me that you can't see his hand on. Even when we disagreed or arrived at a solution from different sides, there's not a man I don't respect more, and whose wisdom and friendship mean more to me. I am sure if he thinks of me at all, he still sees me as his favourite student." The trails they could have blazed, the practice they could have shared, the life that they could have built together still haunts Beth when the nights are darkest and loneliest. There isn't an ache or a joy of his that she doesn't feel in a distant sort of way. "I can't presume to say what he falls under, assuming there is even a word for it. Hanai brother? Oath-mate? Hanai-Father?" A lilt of her delicate shoulder, something of a sigh and she waves a hand over the console beside her as if her hand is a tide washing away what was written in sand. "As for Agent Coulson. Well, you've met him. Like Ku'uku'u, he's steadfast, honourable, compassionate. Like Stephen, he's talented, sophisticated, dashing. Wears a suit well. He's smart, yes, but his strength is in his experience, his wisdom, his willingness to be exactly what the job calls itself; a shield to protect whomever might need him most. There's great rage in his heart but that's reserved not for an enemy but situations where he is needed, if that makes sense. It's his own sort of passion under the affable exterior. One part of me wishes that the Admiral could have been an eighth the man Phil is. That he could have ever made me feel as safe, as valued." And there, there's that selfishness rising, for which she looks immediately guilty for once the words leave her mouth. "Agent Coulson is everything a person could want in a father. In a boss. In a friend. In a husband. I would consider myself lucky were I ever to have someone like that interested in me. I know by now you must have heard me call him uncle, and maybe in a way I do see him in that sort of light. I call him Uncle because it's a term of respect on my island." That same shrug of her shoulder, that same small exhalation. "I suppose I could make an argument for each of them living in my heart as one has family. I could also make the argument that if I ever made a life-oath, I would consider myself a fortunate woman if any of them wanted that." She looks up at long last. "What about you? Have you met any other hanai-family amongst your travels? What about someone you who makes your heart sing?"

[frankterranella]

Lillian Heaney: Not your typical mother-in-law

                            Lillian “Pat” Walker Heaney (1932-2023)

"Lillian Heaney died today at home after a brief illness. She was 90 years old." Those are the facts, and that's the way I was taught in journalism class to start an obituary. But the woman who died today deserves much more from me. I first met the woman who would become my mother-in-law 48 years ago. Lillian and Joseph Heaney had come up to Holy Cross College in May, 1975 to pick up their daughter, Patricia, who I was dating at the time. I remember helping Pat bring her things outside to where her father had parked the car to load it up. Lillian took one look at the amount of "stuff" that Pat wanted to fit into the car, shook her head and smiled at me as if to say "do you really want to get involved with this child?" So we shared a moment on the first day I met her. From the beginning I sensed that she liked me. She was as down-to-earth as can be and immediately made me comfortable in her presence. In fact, I felt as comfortable with her as with my own mother, often more comfortable. She was always direct in her demeanor. She rarely minced words. She understood men. She loved watching and discussing sports with men. She was a devoted daughter to both her parents, but especially her father. Coming from a generation where women were expected to be subservient to men, Lillian was a feminist in that she expected to be treated equally to men. She specialized in bringing men too full of themselves down a peg. She demanded and earned respect and she got it. I learned early on who was the boss of the Heaney household. I had grown up in a culture that vilified mothers-in-law. They were the brunt of most stand-up comedians' jokes at the time. There was even a hit song in 1961 sung by Ernie J. Doe called "Mother in Law" that talks about these women as "the worst person I know" and "Satan should be her name." So I was not prepared to have a mother-in-law who was very caring and who treated me as her fourth child from day one. She was definitely a factor in favor of my asking Pat to marry me. I was blessed to have her in my life for nearly half a century. From the very first day I met her, I saw the special relationship she had with my father-in-law. Their marriage of more than 68 years was a model for me and everyone in the family. And when my father-in-law died last October it was clear that she was lost without him. But she continued to be interested in the lives of her children, her grandchildren and her great grandchildren. Whenever she would see me, she would always ask me how my job was going and what was going on in my life. And in later years, she would ask about my health and what I was doing in retirement. When I would make the same inquiry back to her about her health she would always wave the question away and say she was okay. I know that she would have a different answer for her daughters, but she never complained to me. Her answer to me always reminded me of her father, whose standard line was "I can't complain." My mother-in-law and I shared a love of two particular sweets -- black licorice and Nabisco Sugar Wafers. She would often share her stash with me when I came to her house. It was a special treat just for us. This stopped in later years when she moved in with her daughter Barbara and my brother-in-law Joe, and was no longer doing the shopping (and when her teeth had deteriorated to make licorice unadvisable).  But right before she died, Pat and I came to take care of her to give Barb and Joe a break. When Pat and I went food shopping for the weekend, I saw Nabisco Sugar Wafers on the shelf as we went down the aisles at the supermarket, thought of my mother-in-law and put them in the cart. When we got back to the house, I brought some Sugar Wafers in to her and she smiled a big smile as she remembered our common treat. I think it was the last time I saw her smile like that. But I was glad to have had that last moment with her. And from this day on, whenever I have a Sugar Wafer I will think of my wonderful mother-in-law and smile. 

[cuppajj]

Someone in a previous ask said Cacao would be like the Nowhere King which is dead right, and if he were to sing he’d totally have a theme like that (and others would sing it too. His song would be a warning from everyone else about him). Honestly Centaurworld is a great insp for this lmao (as much as we don’t know ES’s deal, she would have that Whaletaur energy as she sings to either Princess or Dragonberry). I think every protagonist has an I Want song

But if I really want to nerd out, I can talk about hypothetical leitmotifs 🥹

You’d hear Saint’s every time you see an orchid, and it’s very present in his songs/the music the lambs have. It’s in every lamb related song including Wafer’s and Dart’s (and faintly in the Crème Republic)

Celestial Cheese and Yellow Feather share one in their songs, though Feather’s is a slightly altered chord

Cacao and Choco also share one, but you can barely notice it because Cacao’s theme is slow and ghastly while Choco’s is a tad more alive. FAINT leitmotif shared between Choco and Crepe as well :)

But crepe also has a bit of Shmilk’s leitmotif later on. Another beast who shares a leitmotif with a protag later is Burning Spice. Interestingly you also hear Lily’s in every Beast’s except for Shmilk

Pitaya’s is slower and drowned out by Dragonberry’s theme when they’re imprisoned, but louder and livelier when freed. There’d also be a dragon leitmotif shared between them and Snapdragon and ananas IF THEY BECOME CANON.

There’s more but I’ve done enough winking and nodding as is

Im not that versed but im really into music theory, subtle storytelling especially makes me giddy so BAAU the Musical would absolutely have this lmao

Why am I lowkey like imaging the Neo-Beasts bursting into song? (Sorry I'm so into musicals, and villain songs are BOMB)

Musical headcanons my BELOVED

Baau musical au or something, I would love to think about that… naturally all neobeasts have a villain song (cacao too but he’s not the one singing it. OR IS HE). Lily’s is a nigh operatic soliloquy full of soft harps and haunting strings, Celestial Cheese’s is energetic and bombastic like showbiz, Saint’s song is hypnotically calm and angelic but turns into an unsettling hymn at the end. Shmilk has an entire friend like me inspired number with Crepe, the entire Dragonberry Saga plays out like a Disney musical with Princess being primadonna, Choco sings bc I said so. Among others. Baau spice would also sing. Oh yeah. OG beasts get songs. I could keep going. I love thinking about musical headcanons

[doevademe]

Nico remaining a catholic while being the son of the lord of hell (and the greek equivalent of Paradise) is just the epitome of irony for me.

That's why I propose the following prompt:

Some random homophobic: y'all are going to hell for your sin!

Percy and Nico share a look before bursting out laughing.

Percy: Been there, done that, bud. A little dark but welcoming when you know the owner of the place.

Nico: Actually got a room for me in a palace there, can't say the same for you tho.

"Why are we here again?" Percy asked as he squirmed uncomfortably. The church parishioners seemed to all be looking at them.

"Because it's my mother's death anniversary," he reminded him. "And for some reason, you decided to accompany me to mass instead of staying home."

"I wanted to support you, Ni," he said. It was the first time he could do something as Nico's boyfriend and not just as his friend. "I just didn't know this was an hour-long thing."

Behind them, an elderly lady shushed them. Nico turned and apologized in a hush.

The rest of the mass went by. Nico distressingly left him to have some white, thin food put in his mouth and come back to kneel. Percy couldn't say he understood, but he imitated Nico as well as he could.

He could see a man in his forties looking at them suspiciously.

Eventually, the priest named Nico's mother when talking about praying for the departed, and soon after the mass was over. Nico took his hand and led him out.

"I think mamma went to heaven," he said softly. "That's why I could never summon her."

Percy looked at him. So that was why he attended mass for her and not Bianca. Nico knew where his sister had gone after death, but Maria di Angelo was another story.

"It was a nice ceremony," he whispered, not knowing what else to say. "I didn't understand half of it, but it was beautiful."

Nico smiled and squeezed his hand.

"That couldn't have been easy for you. Staying still all that time and not understanding why people did things," Nico told him once they were outside. "But thanks for being respectful and... for being there for me."

Percy smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

"If it's important to you, of course I'll be there," he said. "So, that white wafer—"

"I knew it," someone said behind them. They both turned to see the same man that had been glaring at Percy during mass. "Don't you know your kind is not welcome here?"

Percy paled. Had he done something wrong? Was he embarrassing Nico in some way?

"What do you mean our kind?" Nico asked venomously.

"Perverts," he clarified, looking at them in distaste. "People like you shouldn't desecrate the house of our Lord."

Percy blinked.

Oh, so he hadn't done anything wrong during the mass. The guy was just a homophobe.

He let out a sigh of relief.

"I thought Jesus invited everyone to come to him, even sinners," Nico answered with a raised eyebrow.

"If they repent," the man said. "Only hell awaits those like you."

And Nico turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. Percy stared back.

They both laughed.

"S-sorry dude, but I know for a fact that I won't go there," he said as the man turned redder and redder from anger. "The guy in charge kind of likes me. I have my own room in a palace waiting for me."

"That's sacrilege!"

Percy shrugged.

"I mean, down there is a little cold and drafty, but it's not as bad, and the dead don't feel the cold," Percy added. "If anything, I can say it's not the worst thing that could happen."

"You, though? I doubt you might get more than oblivion," Nico continued. "You're not God's brave defender. You're barely God's anything."

"You—"

"You're worth nothing, and you'll die alone and bitter," Nico said in his son of Hades voice. The man turned white as a sheet. "We're leaving, Percy."

The man stayed quiet as Nico walked ahead of Percy, their hands still linked, until they reached a Starbucks.

"Order anything you like," he said. "My treat, as thanks for going with me."

They didn't talk about that man, and Percy realized it was because he mattered so little to Nico.

"Why go to mass, if you know you're going to the Greek Underworld?" He asked once they were seated. Nico smiled sheepishly.

"It makes me feel closer to my mother," Nico admitted. "I feel like she's with me then."

Percy smiled and kissed his boyfriend, not caring who saw.

"I'm sure she is, Nico."

[kendrene]

Whoever does not love, does not know God because God is love.

John 4:8

***

After she gets back to the cathedral Ava finds that, on the surface, everything is the same. Scratch deep enough though, and a lot of things have changed. 

There’s a gaggle of new girls, staring-wide eyed whenever they believe she’s not looking and empty seats in the refectory where Lilith and Mary used to sit. They take turns meticulously setting the table for them anyway as though those two may join them any moment, even though neither ever does. 

One of the recruits tries to sit in Mary’s spot once, but a death-glare from Camila is enough to dissuade her.

“Stop it,” Ava pinches her side as the girl pales, “you’re scaring her, and she didn’t know any better.”

“Fine.” Camila tears her eyes away and the girl breathes again, which is good; she had started to turn an alarming shade of blue. “But only because you asked nicely.”

That’s another change in Ava’s ever growing list. How they defer to her. It’s subtle — in Camila’s case so intertwined with sarcasm Ava’s kind of not sure whether it is deference at all — but it’s there. 

And then, of course, there is the bed thing. 

“It’s just for a bit.” Beatrice explains, not looking her in the eye. “We figured you may have a hard time… readjusting.”

“Who’s we? The Order? Mother Superior? Is it you?” 

Beatrice bites the inside of her cheek and doesn’t say.

Ava sighs, wiping a hand over her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Maybe she’s tired. Maybe Beatrice is right. She’s been back only a few days, spat out on the OCS’s doorstep with no idea of how nor why, and life has been a whirlwind since. “I appreciate you, uh, wanting to keep an eye on me.”

It feels Beatrice has done nothing else, really.

“I can tell Mother Superior it was a bad idea and go back to my room.” Beatrice takes a step back, like she means to go do it right now. “We don’t have to bunk together if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine.” Ava bites the words out too hard and immediately regrets it. “It’ll be like old times.”

They had been happy in the Alps. They had been friends. 

But now everything’s changed and Ava doesn’t know what they are. Not anymore.

***

Her old room with two single beds shoved inside, feels a bit cramped. That’s Ava’s first thought in the evening, when after another never-ending set of medical tests, she drags her carcass there, dog-tired. 

She finds it empty.

It’s odd. It’s striking, considering Beatrice’s persistent vigilance, her nearly obsessive observance. Ava throws her jacket onto her bed and follows suit, landing facedown, arms wound around the nearest pillow. 

A split-second later, she’s screaming into it. 

They have spoken to each other, yes, but they’ve not really talked. Not about the stuff that matters anyway. Not about the desperate way Ava had kissed Beatrice goodbye, tasting of tears and an unfulfilled promise. And they’ve definitely not talked about how Beatrice had kissed her back, soft and trembling and reverent, how her fingers had swept along the curve of Ava’s jaw. To map it out. To memorize it.

Beatrice shuffles in once the light’s been turned off and Ava, who’s only faking being asleep, listens to the rustle of her clothes. 

“Ava?” Bea’s voice is a whisper, is supplication, is a plea. “Are you awake? Can we talk?” 

Ava thinks of their house in the Alps, and the double bed with the communion-wafer thin pillows and spring-busted mattress they’d been forced by circumstance to share. Thinks of the vows Bea took, which she has no right to ask her to break. Her eyes squeeze shut tightly to hold back the tears. Her breath evens out in deception.

Perhaps, whatever they’ve been to each other for one single moment is best not talked of out loud after all.

***

The second night it’s Ava who sneaks to her bed late, staking it out huddled behind a column in the cloister until the buttery shine of the lamp behind their window is gone. 

“What are you doing?” Camila asks next to her ear, and Ava startles, finding herself wrapped around the same column she’d been skulking against, albeit a couple feet higher. 

“Procrastinating.” She hisses back once her heart has stopped pounding and she can control the halo into floating her back down. “What are you doing?”

“Ah.” Camila looks to the darkened window, a pensive look on her face. “The avoidance stage of being in love.”

“That doesn’t even — I’m not in love!”

“Of course you aren’t.” If Camila rolled her eyes any further, they’d rattle like dice to the back of her skull. “Has nobody ever taught you not to lie in the house of God?” Ava can’t help but smile at the light ribbing. 

It’s a comfort to find out that Camila has stayed the same.

“You should talk to her about it. Tell her how you feel.”

She has shown her. Ava almost tells her about the kiss. Almost asks her how she knew, and is she being that obvious?

“I will.” Camila raises an eyebrow in doubt. “I promise.”

At her back the Halo flares up and brings her lies into the light.

***

It’s all the noise, Ava decides, that makes it hard to sleep. Sounds that in the time spent on the other side she had forgotten, to which she’s having a hard time — readjusting, Bea had called it. That’s it. That’s all there is. 

She spends the third night wide awake, listening, absorbing. 

The lights have been off for a good while, but for once they’ve left the shutters open, so the room is not completely dark. The wane, yellowish light of the moon paints a square shape on the duvet. It only catches Beatrice’s hand, uncurled and open in the vulnerability of sleep, the glint of Divinium circling her wrist. It’s all Ava can see of her, but it’s enough to make her heart ache.

The Halo buzzes inside her head. Agreement.

“Oh, shut up.” The droning grows. Louder and not ignorable. “I don’t even know why I’m still talking to you. It’s not like you ever say anything back.” For all it being a celestial artifact, the device is very much tight-lipped on the whereabouts of God. 

“Ava?” Groggily Beatrice reaches an arm across the space that separates their beds. “What is it?” 

Nestled between her shoulder blades, the Halo starts to brighten. 

Fuck.

“It’s nothing.” Beatrice sits up, and Ava’s 99,9% positive the hand she’s keeping hidden under the covers is clutching the hilt of a knife. “Just a dream.”

“Alright.” Beatrice’s other hand finds hers, their fingers tangling briefly. “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m—” I’m in love with you. Ava, breathe. “—fine.” 

Beatrice lets her go, but then her hand rises again, kind of an afterthought. She touches two fingers to the side of Ava’s throat, brows crumpled together, eyes narrowed. The pressure is light, nearly non-existent. The ghost of a touch. Ava tries and fails to swallow against it, and the Halo lights up to the glare of the sun at its zenith. Had she a way to do so, she’d strangle the damn thing. 

“Okay.” Beatrice’s hand falls slowly away. The Halo’s light fades. “Wake me up if you need me.”

The next morning it’s clear from the dark circles around Beatrice’s eyes, that so perfectly mimic her own, neither of them slept a wink.

***

Four nights in a row without sleep. It’s becoming ridiculous.

Midnight uncovers Ava in the library, which is aside from Beatrice’s side, her favorite place to be. Books have always sorta kinda been her thing; stuck in a bed since age seven the choice had been books or TV. 

Ava walks back to the table she’s been sitting at for the better part of the last hour, and dumps the latest haul under the halogen lamp. She doesn’t know what she’s searching for exactly, just that there is an answer in here that she needs. In these books, so old they sometimes fall apart at mere touching. 

The Halo helps as it can, lighting the way.

“Can I help you?” 

Beatrice slides onto the bench next to her, and Ava hears it again, the same note in her voice that’s there when she’s praying. Let me help you, is the true meaning of her question, left unsaid. 

“I don’t know what I’m looking for.” She slides the first book to Beatrice from the pile. Confessions it reads on the warped cover, St. Augustine the name stitched below it in thread-of-gold. 

“It’s alright.” Bea opens the book at its index, tracks the blocky letters with a finger. “We’ve got all night. Whatever it is, we’ll find it.” Ava gets the feeling she’s talking of an entirely different thing .

She wakes with a start hours later gently prodded by dawn, Beatrice gone, the library empty. The soft hand-knitted sweater she’d worn the night before is draped across Ava’s back, in effective substitution of a blanket.

Underneath it, the Halo glows. 

***

Vespers have just ended, the sun an orange slant across the cathedral’s mosaic floor, and Ava is so tired of pretending, so tired of the hollowness left from the lack of Beatrice’s body curled up with her own.

“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” Bea holds the guttering flame of a candle to the one Ava is holding and, together, they light a new votive. “I don’t want to sleep alone at all.”

“You don’t have to.”  

[quirklessidiot]

Title: pretty eyes [short story] Pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader [soulmate au; takes place eight years before the yuuji and sukuna fusion] Genre: josei, romance, fluff, comedy, and your normal tragic angst!

Summary: in which the right eye is mine and the left eye is yours and when we meet for the first time, you see your own eyes staring back at you. Warnings: language, blood, minor manga spoilers, mild ooc gojo and death

Notes:  can we all just sit down admire satoru? Like the eyes man, the attitude omg... Ah im so sorry in advance  if hes ooc here sksksk it is my first time to write about any jjk characters and I havent fully grasped them yet despite reading the manga anyways i wont be online next week and tomorrow so i decided to publish this ahead of time. ily all and again thank you for the love and support, it does mean a lot *bows down* see you all again when i’ve got time? jskskss i fucking hate college and online classes, satoru save me please soulmate au’s [not read in any particular order nor are they connected, they just share the same trope]  Pretty eyes [gojo vers.] ||  lasting blues [toji vers]

tragic soulmate au series || taglist 

“Pretty.” were the very first words you uttered in complete awe as you saw yourself in the mirror and no, this wasn’t directed to your physical appearance. It was directed to your left eye, the eye of your soulmate.

Contrasting to your normal boring color on the right, your soulmate’s eyes were ethereal and unreal. How could someone have such pretty eyes? It was completely surreal at that point that you refused to believe that someone with these eyes were actually human.

You placed one hand and gently caressed the left side of your face where the pretty eye rested, “You must be an angel.” you muttered, “Only angels have pretty eyes.”

Thus      like every child     you gave your soulmate a nickname, ‘pretty angel’  and every night before you slept, you’d wonder out loud how your pretty angel was doing, if they were nearby, or anything like that. You wonder what type of food they like, do they like to leave the window open for a cool wind or do they like their chocolate hot or iced.

Yet as you grew older, the pretty angel faded out into your thoughts. The pretty idea of soulmates and love disappeared like the story books you read as a child. The pretty blue eyes on your left is forgotten as life takes a toll on you.

They say death was inevitable, when your mother died in middle school, you watch as your father’s left eye turn to your mother’s color. You watched as he clenched her hand, like it was some last resort of plea. You watched him cry as he passed by the mirrors and you wondered, would it hurt like that too?

It baffles you how beautiful and cruel the soulmate system was.

How every time your father would stare at his own reflection, his left eye would be nothing but a reminder of your dead mother.

You let out a second meek cough in the quiet bookstore that night, the sounds of the car passing by were nothing but quiet noise to you as you immerse yourself in the literature book you were reading, your students would surely love this one.You let out another cough as you turn around to find a small space to read since standing for too long made you tired too quickly. 

You’re too enchanted by the words of the author that you don’t even notice the rather tall man in front of you.

You look up, ready to give a quiet apology but stop short when you notice how ethereal the stranger looked. Albeit he wore a pair of weird Lennon shades at this time of night, he reminded you very much of an angel with his snow white hair.

You don’t even notice how your left eye is returning back to it’s normal color, the stranger does though and it surely was odd to see his eyes on a stranger.

“Well,” the stranger has a shit-eating grin decorating his handsome features, he definitely looked like trouble for sure, “This is unexpected.”

He lowers his shades and your eyes immediately widen as you suddenly cup the left side of your face, you’d recognize those unique eyes anywhere, after all, you had those on your left eye since you were born, “Y-You.” you muttered, the shock momentarily eating you up.

“Yeah, me.” He grins, loving the sudden attention, “Wow, I was expecting something like fireworks or flowers to appear.” He suddenly teased, bending down to your level.

Now that you notice it, he was very, very tall.

“I…” You blink, trying to gain your composure, “Wow…”

“Did I pass your expectations?” it’s been a few minutes since you started talking and all he has been doing is teasing you. 

“You do look like an angel.” You complimented and his eyes widened at the rather out-of-place compliment, “Your eyes are very pretty, thanks for letting me borrow them for twenty-two years.”

Gojo Satoru thought he had the upper-hand, after all, you looked quite meek but when you said those compliments, he was sure that you were going to be the teasing one in this whole-soulmate thing.

So he tries to one up you.

“I’m Satoru Gojo but you can call me tonight.” He grinned, trying to tease you once again, the corny pick up line sounds suave but your blank expression says otherwise.

“I’m Y/N L/N and  think I should call you in the morning, it is quite late right now and I still have classes at eight am.” You mumbled, looking down at your watch, “How about you just walk me home, then?”

“Okay.” Satoru immediately raises his hands, signaling that he was giving up, “First off, you should be more hyper aware that I may be a serial killer.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you a serial killer?” you repeat, “That would be awfully disappointing if my soulmate was one since I’d immediately give you up on the police. I’m not interested in being in a Bonnie and Clyde type of thing and I think it’s too early for me to die.”

“You’re very upfront about these sorts of things.”

“Well, you’re very teasing for someone who just met their soulmate a few minutes ago.” you shrug, “So, are you going to walk me home or not?”

“Ah, bossy too. I love the attitude already.”

“We’re spending our whole lives together. You might as well get used to it.”

You’d think the idea of soulmates would scare you after the firsthand experience with your parents but curiosity always got the best of you and the white-haired man proved that maybe it would be different this time.

Throughout the few months you’ve spent with him, You’ve noticed that Gojo Satoru and you may be alike in some ways but in most ways, he was different. 

First, he was enigmatic. You’ve known the man for a couple of months now and you’ve been going out on dates but you don’t know much about him except that like you, he’s a teacher at a good school and he tends to be conceited when he talks about his personal skills as a teacher.

“...What are you doing?” Satoru asked, peeking from behind your shoulder as you type in the grades of your student for your class.

“I’m grading my students.” You muttered, it was after dinner at your place and he was lazing around your place, the sound of faint jazz music could be heard throughout your small space and the wafting smell of freshly baked brownies filled the room, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something since you're a teacher?”

Satoru quirks a brow as if you had said something odd then it seemed like realization had dawn upon him at that moment.

“Ah, I’m not doing much since my students are on break.”

“Didn’t you say that last time?”

Silence filled the room and Satoru breaks it off with his very famous ‘heh’ that made you inwardly roll your eyes and chunk the pillow that you’ve been hugging towards his direction, “Stop slacking off, you’re a teacher.” You scold him mildly, followed by a small cough.

“Ah, Y/N-chan. You’re so mean to me,” He frowned, handing you the mug filled with water, “...No fair.”

“You're a teacher and you’re slacking off.” You deadpanned, ignoring his sly ways of trying to get you in his arms, “How is that even fair?”

“My students can handle themselves so well that I don’t need to babysit them.” He hmphed,  arms crossed and head held up high in a rather arrogant manner. You could only only scoff back a reply at his rather haughty attitude but you’ve gotten used to it to the point where you just roll your eyes.

“You’re a very bad teacher, Satoru.” 

“Hey, I am considered one of the best and it’s an honor-”

You clicked your tongue and just pinched his cheek in reply to get him to stop drawling on about his achievements. You wondered if you dated a man child or something.

Second, despite his teasing nature and good looks, he’s a rather shy bean and has some insecurities about it too, maybe it was because there were moments where you couldn’t really understand your soulmate and his puzzling life. He didn’t tell and you didn’t want to pry because you technically both had your whole life to get around that subject.

Luckily, you seem to have found a remedy for moments like that.

“Satoru…” You called out to your soulmate who was staring at the nutrition content of the wafers on his hand, “Satoru!” 

“Oh, sorry. What were you talking about?” he finally snapped out of his daze and turned to you who was standing there, hand on your hip. The crispy wafers on his hand are long forgotten. 

Your soulmate is good looking, alright. If anyone were to pass by him they wouldn’t see the minor zilch of worry in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” You ask, walking closer to him, completely serious.

“...You aren’t going to leave me, right?” 

You raise a brow at the sudden question, wasn’t he too young to have some mid-life crisis? Was this because of the soulmate movie you watched late last night about the soulmate leaving their other half to rebel against the system and because of his partner’s family?

“Why would I leave you?”

He blinks once, then twice, the only sound that could be heard was the familiar music playing throughout the grocery store, it was as if no one was there during the mid-day. Satoru proceeds to look away, “I don’t know. What if you realize that you don’t like me as your soulmate and you followed what the dude did in the movie?” he started to mumble, mouth pressed on a straight line.

“Ah, the whole rich in-laws.” you blinked, “Don’t tell me you’re a son of some huge clan in japan that’s loaded and I’m going to be a disgrace to your family name or something?”

It came out as a joke at first, it really did and you were going to laugh but when you notice the straight face he has on, you realize it was anything but a joke.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, Oh.” 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking that question then?”

“What?” He almost half-yelled, eyes wide behind his usual shades that he seemed to wear a lot, “That doesn’t make sense!”

“Neither does your question, Satoru.” You frowned, massaging your temples, “I should be the one asking you that, are you going to leave me?”

“Of course not.” He sputters out.

“Then there goes my answer too.” You replied, huffing out as you grab the sweet wafers on his hand to put into the cart, “You’re very weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“No, you are.”

“You seriously asked me if I’d leave you because of your rich family in the middle of the day.” You deadpanned, inching closer to him to the point where your lips are brushing against his.

“This is unfair.” He huffed, suddenly turning red, “You’re attacking me in broad daylight.”

“Oh dear.” Your beguiling eyes, enjoying his rather embarrassed state, “This isn’t attacking, Satoru.”

Then you closed the distance between you two, his eyes seemed to widen behind his shades at your forward approach, clearly you guys never did PDA. You took this as an opportunity to lick his lower lip so you could slip your tongue in and as he starts getting into it and placing his hand to cup your ass, you pull away with a big smile on your lips, “That’s attacking.” you grinned.

Satoru seemed to have regained his senses quickly after that rather heated public make-out session, he placed his hand on top of his mouth and feigned embarrassment, “My, My, I didn’t think you’d enjoy those types of things in public.” he was back to his normal teasing self.

Well, that seemed to have worked very well.

“Mhm,” 

Yet unknown to you those thoughts still lingered in his head, it wasn’t just his family that he was worried about, it was also regarding his job as a jujutsu sorcerer       something he has yet to mention, he’s not even sure if you’d believe him       it’s a normal occurrence for people like him to die in this occupation and he’s scared that one day, you’ll see your left eye turning back to his eye color with no valid explanation.

Not only that but the amount of people who’d go after you to get to him, he clenched on the shopping cart tightly

“I’m tired.” You cut his thoughts short and Satoru turns to you, unlike him, you weren’t physically active so you tire easily, even joking around that you were a granny in a child’s body, “Can we sit down after this and get some gyudon?”

“Sure Y/N.” he grins, giving you a one-arm hug and kissing your temple.

Third, he’s terrible with kids, period, no questions asked. 

Your eyes narrowed to slits as he brought in one of his students named Megumi, the boy is quiet and compared to your giant and teasing soulmate, he’s serious. In fact he was more serious than the tiny pinky of the white-haired man.

“...Are you kidnapping a third grader?”

“He’s one of my students.”

“You don’t even know the first thing of looking after kids.” You pointed out, “And didn’t you mention that you teach high school students?”

“Well,” he drawled on, “It’s kind of a long story but he’s technically a genius.”

You let out a stifling sigh, “You’re impossible.” you mutter, bending down to the small boy’s level, “Would you like something to eat in compensation for him annoying you?”

The boy nods mutely.

“I wasn’t annoying him!” He corrects.

“He looks very annoyed standing next to you.”

“That’s literally what he looks like!”

You roll your eyes in reply and turn to the young boy, handing him a pastry that you had brought earlier. You  watched Megumi eat his pastry in front of the television that played some child-friendly show as you let out a soft cough and pour yourself some water

“Are you alright?” Satoru asks, resting his head on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” You replied, “Why’d you ask?”

“You’re looking quite pale these days.”

“Maybe it’s the allergy season, already.”  you nonchalantly replied, taking another gulp of water, “You’re terrible with kids, by the way.”

“That’s why I’m a high school teacher, Y/N.”

This connects you to your fourth observation, he’s nonchalant and easy going but he harbors a rather deep worry for you to the point where you wonder if he was really your soulmate or your mother incarnate. Three years into the whole soulmate thing with him, you still couldn’t help but think that he’s doting nature was quite adorable.

You feel like you’re coming down with a cold these days, your head has been throbbing and your cough is worsening. Satoru’s eyes are filled with nothing but worry as he handed you some medication. Your soulmate was now a mother hen and if it were different circumstances, you’d laugh it off.

“We should go to the doctor.” He nagged you once again.

“I’m literally going to sleep it off.” You hoarsely replied, “I’ll be fine, Satoru.”

“You literally sound like you smoked a pack with your voice, are you sure?”

“I am.” You glared, “Don’t sleep-”

Before you could even finish what you were saying, he flops right next to you in the bed, “-I literally told you to not sleep next to me.” you scolded him.

“A mere cold won’t phase me.”

“I swear to god, Gojo Satoru. I’ll kick you out.” He ignores your ministrations and snuggles his head on your neck, his warm breath tickling it, “You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“Sadly.”

“Hey.”

“I’m kidding.” you let out a quiet chuckle, looking down at your soulmate and running your hands through his white hair, “I love you very much, you idiot.”

“Hard same.”

“Never mind, I take it back.” you giggle.

And after a rather short playful banter between you two, you find yourself sleeping and snuggling on his long limbs. You think all is well, you really do. That was until you wake up later at three am in the morning with a loud coughing fit. Satoru immediately sits upright and opens your nightlight but what he sees next, scares him more than the curses he has ever encountered.

Your sheets are now stained in blood from the coughing fit that had just happened and you're completely taken aback too, completely breathless.

“Y-Y/N…” He gulps down, quickly taking the sheets away from you, “Let’s go to the hospital now, please?”

“...L/N-san, have you been getting coughing fits before this?” the doctor asks, looking up from your chart. Satoru watches you shake your head as you clench the paws of his jacket, the doctor takes off his glasses, “How about coughs that don’t seem to go away? Getting tired too easily?”

Satoru doesn’t like where this was going, he doesn’t like where this was going at all.

“Um, just some dry coughs and I’ve always been an inactive person.” You quietly replied, contrasting to your usual bright and teasing demeanor, you looked too tired this morning and Satoru just hopes it’s because he dragged you out of bed at four am to get yourself checked asap.

“Y/N-san, has any of your family members been diagnosed with lung cancer?”

The whole room is silent and you could almost hear a pin drop, Satoru feels his knuckles suddenly turn white, “I recalled my okaasan died because of that.” You replied silently and the doctor nods feverishly.

“...Y/N-san...It pains me to say this but the reason you’ve been experiencing this is because of the tumors located in your lungs.” Satoru feels his heart drop when he hears those words, “We have to do further tests to confirm-”

“Do it.” Satoru cuts the old doctor off, his hands are visibly shaking already, he hopes that this was just a misdiagnosis, that this doctor was just a bad one or better yet whatever excuse his mind could make up at that moment, “Do all the tests needed for Y/N, please.”

Fifth, he’s very supportive towards you and your impulsive decisions. If he could join you in it, he would but you usually decide against it.

It’s another quiet night for you as you sit across from your soulmate at the dinner table. You’ve grown awfully thin and your hair was starting to fall off due to the chemoradiation, this day marked the third month since you found out that you have lung cancer just like your mother. Surgery was apparently too risky so the safest option right now was this treatment. 

You don’t deny the anxiety eating you up every day, specifically the fear of death, you’re even more worried for Satoru since not only had he been paying for your treatment but he had opt to take care of you, saying that his job would be fine without him since you were going to get better soon anyways.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my hair?” You asked, your voice still quite hoarse.

“You kidding me? I’d still love you even if you turned into a roach.”

You immediately crinkle your nose in disgust, “That’s disgusting.”

“Honest reply.”

Truthfully, the man had been your rock these past three months. You knew how hard it was for him to be happy around you, how he had put on a brave front and remained positive saying that this was just going to be a rough couple of months and you’d be back in no time despite the bleak outlook.

It kept you sane amongst the tragedy.

“I wanna shave my hair.”

“Like right now?”

You nod, “Can we use your electric razor?”

“You want me.” he points to himself, “To cut your hair?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.” You grinned.

And that’s how you ended up in your bathroom after dinner, Satoru’s shades on the side and his concentration directly on your scalp. You had literally told him that he just needed to do it the same way as he shaved his beard but he was still scared. Apparently, he had never shaved anyone’s hair before.

“...Okay, Y/N. Here goes…” He proclaimed, switching the razor on. As bits and pieces of your hair fall to the ground, you feel your cheeks getting wet and your shoulders tense, Satoru is quick to notice the switch of emotion and immediately turns the razor off before bending down in front of you, “Woah, woah… Y/N….”

“I-I…” Your lips are quivering as the tears fall faster when you see his pretty eyes staring back at yours, you try to let out a laugh but instead it comes out as a choke sob, “Sorry, this is stupid. I’m literally crying over fucking hair.”

“No, of course not…” He replies, enveloping you in a hug, “Of course not.”

Satoru feels you start to shake in his arms and he knows he should keep his emotions in check, he’s a sorcerer for crying out loud but seeing you break down for the first time in three months had him shaking too, you didn’t deserve all this, fuck, you didn’t deserve any of this at all!

“Would you like me to shave my hair so you’d feel a bit better?” he asks. After recovering from your breakdown, you had asked him to continue shaving your hair because you might as well be done with it.

“Please don’t.” You reply, wiping your tears away, “We’d look like eggs.”

“Cute eggs, you mean.” He corrects, teasing you and trying to cheer you up, this was all he could do and he hates it. 

He really hates it.

What good was the title of being the strongest when he couldn’t save you from all of this?

Lastly, if you hadn’t highlighted it enough. He has pretty eyes, contrasting to your dull and boring ones, you always loved how different his eyes are. Sometimes you wondered why he dared to hide them behind his crappy and overused Lennon shades.

“Can I see them?” 

Your room is dimly lit as Satoru sleeps next to you on the hospital bed, you were growing weaker and frailer by the day and you could see the toll it took on your soulmate. You were heavily reminded of your father who was sitting right next to your mother on her deathbed.

“See what?” He yawned.

“Your eyes.”

“You’re awfully in love with them, huh?” 

“I’ve always been in love with them from the moment I saw it in the mirror.”

Silence envelopes the room with your statement and as requested, he takes the shades off and now you’re greeted by the most beautiful blue eyes that you love to look at in the reflection since you were a child, “Pretty.” You muttered, raising your frail hands slowly to cup his face, “Pretty eyes.”

Satoru takes in a deep breath as he places his hand on top of yours, the silence is heavy. You both know what’s about to come in the next few days, you’re lucky if you even last a night. Yet he doesn’t want to talk about it, he shuts the topic off quickly when you try to even raise it.

“Yeah.” he mumbles, staring at you, “Pretty.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “I doubt it, I’m anything but pretty now.” your voice hoarse, making him lightly squeeze your hands, “Will you be bringing Megumi tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the brat said he saved enough money to get you your favorite pastry.”

“That’s good.” you blinked, “I’m tired.”

Satoru feels his shoulder tense at your words, they were so plain yet at the same time so heavy, “Should I call the doctor?” he asks. You shake your head and just snuggle on his chest.

“No,” You mumbled, inhaling his scent and basking on his presence, “I want your warmth next to me.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You know, you’ve always had prettier eyes.”

Yet you don’t reply and he feels your grip on his sweater lessen, he doesn’t even need to see his reflection to know that his left eye has returned back to your (e/c) ones.

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