#dont get me wrong im fucking LOVING this
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my favorite part of worm is when taylor turns into a big fucking bug
#i mean. like.#dont get me wrong im fucking LOVING this#but also its just. VERY kind of silly and ridiculous solution to . dissolving#BUT ALSO I LOVE IT#reaction time#worm spoilers
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Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine
#genshin impact#arlecchino#peruere#clervie#ouhhhhhhhh im never gonna be able to emotionally recover from watching that animated short#ever since it came out a couple days ago just thinking of these two makes me feel like my heart is physically being ripped in half#i cant stop thinking about how Clervie was the only person in Arlecchino's life that she truly loved#like dont get me wrong Arlecchino loves her children in her own detached-fucked up way as much as any person with her amount of trauma can#but Clervie meant so much to her that even just her presence alone kept Arle's curse at bay#and it seems that no one other than Clervie herself has ever been able to break this unemotional/detached wall that Arle has put up#and maybe no one else ever will#DONT GET ME WRONG I still fw arle x other female harbingers like that shit is still peak#but oh my god the idea that arle never moved on after clervie's death and will never love anyone the way she loved her makes me want to SOB
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IM NOT A DOCTOR BUT I THINK I MIGHT BE ABLE TO HELP
#my art#dol#harper the doctor#HIIIIIIIIIIII HI EVERYONE 👋👋👋👋👋👋👋👋👋#its a little bit off so that makes me kinda upset :( but ill figure something out. it might be the colors :(#or maybe the spacing? i left a lot in the top left :( but its fine#and im going to use every lyric of that song for every harper piece i make so that i dont have to think about making captions okay?#but HERE. a HARPER PIECE YOU CAN REBLOG#i give them the stupid messy sidebun because its cute. to me.#im so sorry about the radio silence but i DID warn you all i get artblock often#but!!!!!! i was also accepted into a zine despite my lack of internet presence :) so ive also been busy with that and other stuff too#accidentally made this while practicing for the piece because i couldnt get the style right :( but hopefully ill get a better hold on it#anyways. harper is not a doctor and i love them so much it makes me sick#harper my EVERYTHING. hes my PRINCESS.#MY ANGEL.#i want you all to remember this isnt just an art blog. its a harper fanblog#ohhh but i do have a few few few announcements to make in my next post okay? so dont ignore it alright? kiss kiss love you#IM GONNA BE FUCKING SICK HES HOLDING THE SYRINGE WRONG. AND I CANT FIX IT NOW BECAUSE ITS BEEN RBED
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y'all for fucking real. don't fucking write slave fics or x reader fics of aventurine's slavery??? are you guys out of your goddamn minds???
#i swear half of you don't fucking think.#what makes you think it's okay or “angsty” to write fics about suffering like that#especially without nuance?? or any understanding of the ramifications#its one thing to write about it being integrated into his past#but it's another thing to write it as an *in the moment* thing#especially if you're writing it to portray him being bought again -- who gives a shit if the reader “saves” him or “treats him nicely”#that's still a perpetuation of the cycle of abuses#like it's still already brain dead of hoyoverse to write about the suffering of POC by using a fair skinned blonde man#but come on#i thought we were better than this??#like yeahh#dont get me wrong - i love aventurine and his development. the writing is amazing despite how bad form using very white features#to portray a real race of color and it's suffering (the romani)#but you guys. come the fuck on#hsr aventurine#aventurine honkai star rail#aventurine x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr x reader#i know it's “NOT THAT SEROUS” because it's a fictional game but im still putting tags for racism and slavery bro. wtf y'all#tw racism#tw slavery#random talk
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wemon....
#the arctic cruise is i think my favourite area of AHiT to just hang around in#excluding the memories of cruisin' for a bruisin' its so lovely and nice#and i fucking love the seals so much im already a sucker for seals#not gonna lie after beating nyakuza metro i still feel like seal the deal is the superior dlc#dont get me wrong the metro is really cool! but deathwish is hard to beat#and the cruise itself while small was incredibly enjoyable for me#whereas the metro had the same problems as alpine skyline for me just with a better atmosphere and characters#although i suppose its not entirely fair to judge it when i havent played online and that was the first dlc that had it#it would be like judging seal the deal without deathwish since that was like half of the dlcs appeal#ahit#a hat in time#seal ahit#seal crew ahit#ahit seal#ahit seal crew
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🍷<3
#when i got hashtag sick i was in hospital and i was doing my regularly scheduled call with my dad#and i really had no plans of telling him bc ive done that before and its not like he can scare the MS away or anything#i dont know what happened. maybe because it was such a fucking bad episode. maybe because i was so tired. maybe it was a secret 3rd thing#but one minute was like fine then i just burst into tears and i was crying so hard which is MEGA EW BC IM NOT A CRIER LIKE THAT#and my dad freaked out and he was like whats wrong and i didnt wanna tell him but I also sounded insane bc i spontaneously started sobbing#and he was getting more alarmed and i was upset that id upset him and so i just spat it out i was like 'listen king'#'its no biggie but my body is trying to kill me again and im just a little sad atm' and he replied 'baba why wouldnt you tell me?'#and this man who has a very big serious job literally dropped everything and took a 20 hr flight over#and he genuinely just grabbed one of his work suitcase because he showed up with nothing but dress shirts and his laptop#and i think maybe it healed me a little. i mean it def also made me sad too but mostly healed me#and he'd been here for a couple of weeks and he left today and i feel shit about being sad about it#again because he has a very big and very serious job and i genuinely dont understand how he even just showed up like that#so I felt guilty throughout#anyway i dont think he drinks anymore but i was like king have a sip of wine with me and he did and it was lovely#and I hope I become my fathers daughter and not my mother's child. praying to both our gods#heres to healing ❤️🩹
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So not sorry when i say that I’m a tracker hater and a Nara fan.
#if her and kristen get back together I’ll be so fucking angry#Nara i love you they could never make me hate you#shes literally done nothing wrong?? and shes SOO hated for what#what if i say tracker shouldn’t be in a relationship and shes literally using Nara for her money#and influence#Nara you deserve sooo much better im so sorry that ppl hate you for no reason#if shes evil i dont even care she deserves to go apeshit because this shit with tracker is so not fair#princess nara#princess naradriel#tracker o'shaughnessey#kristen applebees#fantasy high junior year#fantasy high#d20#d20 fantasy high
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my sweet baby cat nestled up On me instead of just Next to me for the first time in. 7 years of owning him except he chose the backs of my knees to get all cozy on which cannot be comfortable for him and is at least a little awkward for me. he’s so bad at being a cat id rip a car apart with my bare hands for him
#my beautiful son with an anxiety disorder#we got him when he was Maybe a year old like a teenage kitten and we dont know what his life was like before that#but Something happened because he has little kitty ptsd#my weird little freak who doesn’t know how to be normal. i love him so much#its ok mommys a little freak too#he stopped sitting on my legs awkwardly and now has his ass in my face for me to smack it like bongos#wvery year he gets more and more comfortable like i keep thinking hes at his limit of socialization/comfort and he proves me wrong#hes gotten so chatty i keep thinking somethings wrong because im not used to him making so much noise#everyone cheer and clap for him right fucking now
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growing up and radicalizing urself then going back to watch ur old favorite pieces of media and realizing you were siding with the true villains the whole time is wild
#so much propaganda#im talking about bbc merlin#when i watched it initially i adored merlin and despised morgana#maturing is realizing she was right#now im like so annoyed how the story played out#idc that merlin loved arthur so much he sacrificed his own people including himself blah blah blah#SHUDDUP#HE SIDED WITH HIS OPPRESSORS#MORGANA STARTED A REVOLUTION#SHE WAS RIGHTTTTTTT#dont get me wrong i still love merlin but GOD did he fuck himself over#i guess thats the whole point of a tradgedy or whatever#doomed from the start#but idc#he shouldve done fucking something#for a man who supposedly doesnt care for titles or status#he really couldnt handle going against a monarch#i wish he wouldve like at least raised a hidden kindom or sactuary for all magic users to go to hide from uthers rage#save ur fucking people dude#OOOOO IM GETTING ANNOYED JUST WRITING THIS OUT#POST FUCKING CANCELED
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hate how this hellsite talks about women lately. to be honest.
#the rise of people talking about shit like 'misandry' on here is scaryyyyy.#misandry does not exist 💙 everything people say is misandry is literally just. an existing thing we already have a word for.#men dont NEED that kind of specification of oppression. the words are designed with men in mind.#women DO. because being a woman alters the experience of oppression. because it is different for women.#because women NEED these terms to make their voices heard. to get people to understand how it is different for them.#it especially gets me w/ shit like 'transmisandry' and 'transandrophobia'#that is literally just transphobia. it is also misogyny sometimes.#i do get if the term misogyny is uncomfortable! but it is not misandry because transphobes are not oppressing you for being a man.#they are oppressing you because they see you as being a woman the 'wrong way'#and i say this as someone who is literally transmasc. i may not use the term but it applies to me.#its all just fucking misogyny and transphobia!!#but it is NOT transmisogyny. that is a specific word for trans women. because the experience of trans women IS different.#i love you trans women. you go through so much bullshit on here#nyways as i was saying. 'man' is not inherently an oppressed class like 'woman' is so it doesnt make sense to use misandry as a term.#im a tired dyke okay? this godawful website needs to get normal about women yesterday.
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v2 and gabriel both drinking their v1 related problems away. i love this little idea of v2 and gabriel you’ve put in my head amazing job
oopsie my hand slipped THANK YOU for the idea anon!!! v2 desperately trying to drink some of gabriel's blood but gabriel wouldn't let it until all of his daddy issues are resolved
#v2: gabriel im on my knees i will die any fucking second now just please--#gabriel drunk in shit: AAND THIS SON OF A MARY JE..JESUS GUY.....#gabv2el agenda gabv2el agenda#i love gabv1el dont get me wrong but THIS..... OH......#ultrakill#ultrakill fanart#gabriel ultrakill#v2 ultrakill#gabv2el#<< this is now a tag because I SAID SO!!!!!#art
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i have never felt this uniquely insane about a character <3 i cant get a read on him
#what is his DEAL#im usually really good at pegging a character's intentions / general vibe#BUT IM GETTING SO MANY MIXED SIGNALS THAT I JUST DONT KNOW#his off the charts rizz is fucking up my geiger counter#is he evil? is he a victim? a pawn/minion? does he have good intentions? neutral ones? bad ones?#I CANT TELL#welcome home#wally darling#i mean im team 'wally is a victim just trying to help / protect his friends (maybe the 'viewer')'#and home is maybe the main villian but also not bc the villain is the abstract force of cosmic horror manifesting as the chasm under home#and it has simply infected home or possessed it#and welcome home's whole deal is cosmic horror from a puppet's perspective#and they all need to stick together like glue to get through the Ordeals and Situations#and wally's just trying to keep his friends safe and the neighborhood together and fix home#BUT if it turns out wally is straight up evil then. yknow. i support his wrongs <3#he could do literally anything and id be twirling my hair cheering and clapping#i love his big hair and gay little outfit#ever since i watched night minds video he hasnt left my brain. i think he's eating it#like i want him dead. i want him to be happy. i want to beat his little body against a wall until his stuffing comes out. i want to hug him#he is everything to me. he activates my maiming instincts but also my cherish instincts#i want him to get all the hugs from his friends#god i cant wait for this whole enchilada to kick off its gonna be a DOOZY#i trust clown's brilliant mind no matter which way they take this#absolutely fascinating stuff. i already know im in this for the long haul
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IN THE DREAM I DON’T TELL ANYONE, YOU PUT YOUR HEAD IN MY LAP ; SHOKO IEIRI
synopsis; ever since the battle in shinjuku came to its conclusion, nothing’s been the same as it used to. but you don’t think anyone is doing quite as badly as shoko.
word count; 4.5k
contents; shoko ieiri/reader, gn!reader, canon-typical mentions of death (iykyk), angst, hurt/comfort (but not very heavy on the comfort), jjk spoilers (up to chapter 236!!), mild gore (mentions of blood, autopsies and general gore-ish imagery? nothing too bad tho), shoko ieiri deserves better, includes gojo slander (stay safe gojo nation)
a/n; first of all i just wanna apologize to the shoko girlies for writing angst when we’re already so starved of content, i have like 50 fluff drabbles planned for her but chapter 236 threw me into a mental angst pit so </3 yeah. i love my wife!!
shoko hasn’t been herself for a while.
the thought sneaks its way into your subconscious, as your feet carry you to her morgue — a rotten thought you just can’t seem to rinse away.
it’s not very hard to notice. she doesn’t talk as much, for one. not that shoko was ever much of a talker, but now the silence around her is deafening. thick and heavy like the spine of a knife. and she smiles even less.
you can’t remember the last time you heard her laugh.
the crescents beneath her eyes are darker than ever, darker than you thought possible. a murky purple that you’d find soothing in any other context, but like this it’s just revolting. her eyes are deep and dark, the same as ever, but now they’re glazed over with something you can’t quite put your finger on.
apathy, maybe.
or bloodlust.
the scent of cigarette smoke that follows her is suffocating. indistinguishable from her natural scent. you don’t know if she’ll ever be able to scrub the tobacco stench off her skin.
(you’ve given up on counting the exact number of cigarettes she smokes each day. you’re not sure you want to know the answer.)
she doesn’t even look alive, anymore. like some part of her already reached its expiration date. a spectre, wandering the hallways, filling the air with the slow, ominous clacking of her heels.
shoko hasn’t been herself for a while — and it’s so obvious. her grief is so heavy, her sleep-deprivation so severe. you’d have to be blind not to notice it.
so why hasn’t anyone said anything?
you gnaw at your bottom lip, trying to suffocate the bitterness swimming inside your veins. it’s a dumb question, really, because you already know. you don’t want to acknowledge it, because it’s so unfair, but you know. of course you do.
no one has the time to. it’s as simple as that.
no one’s doing well, anymore. not since shinjuku.
not since gojo died.
shoko’s grief is a fickle thing. always with her, tucked away within those eyebags, in the pockets of her coat. in that smell of tobacco, never-fading, always lingering. it follows her like a ghost, like something she’ll never quite be rid of.
(like something she doesn’t want to be rid of.)
shoko’s grief is a fickle thing, and it always has been. but recently, it’s been downright overwhelming. it used to be subtle, the kind of thing you notice if you look close enough. if you squint. if you even care enough to try.
but now, it’s more like a haunting than a simple ghost.
(geto. nanami. yaga. and now gojo, too.
how many people does she have to lose before whatever’s watching is satisfied?)
shoko hasn’t been herself for a while, and it’s obvious, and it’s sickening. she still does her duty to a tee, but she isn’t quite there anymore. gaze always forlorn, as if she’s trying to convince herself of something.
and yet no one says a thing.
everything is one big mess, right now. you don’t want to blame anyone. everyone’s exhausted, completely and utterly spent, but they’re still planning it all out. even in the midst of their mourning. because they don’t have any other choice.
this is not the kind of situation where you should be pointing fingers. a part of you is angry, livid even — but you know the others are doing just as badly. it’s not like you aren’t, either.
still, though. isn’t this just too unfair?
”i brought you coffee!”
making sure your voice doesn’t waver is tougher than you initially assumed. just the sight of her sends a tremor running through your ribs; sunken down in her chair, papers in hand, eyes scanning the pages methodically. papers of what, you’d like to ask — but you already know.
(she’s reading through the post-mortem examination report, again. searching for something you don’t understand. you’re not sure she does, either.)
and she looks exhausted.
try as you might, your voice ends up sounding a little stale, as it flows from your lips and reaches her ears. but the attempt is there — the attempt to sound cheerful, calm. normal. to give her something to hold on to.
shoko looks up at you, and her lips curl in a way you think is supposed to form a smile. it doesn’t. her eyes look into yours but it’s like she’s not seeing you at all.
when you go to give her the cup of espresso, your fingertips touch. only for a second, before she curls her fingers around the ceramic handle. she receives the coffee with a small murmur of thanks, but you don’t notice because you’re too busy thinking of how cold her skin feels.
(cold like a ghost. cold like death.)
shaking away the shivers down your spine, you allow your gaze to trail over the morgue. it looks the same as always. cold, empty. foreboding. today, you think it feels just a little chillier than usual. matching the temperature of the outside world, where everything lies buried in heaps of snow and frost.
hesitantly, you plop down in the seat right next to hers. with such a narrow distance, you can smell the tobacco sticking to her clothing. it makes you want to throw up.
(you try not to look over at the couch in the corner of the room, where a certain someone used to slack off. his awkwardly long limbs would dangle off the edges, and shoko would pretend that she didn’t enjoy his company. you were more than content with silently admiring the smile she was trying to hide.)
shoko doesn’t look at you, professional in the way her eyes run across the files. cause of death: damage to central intestines, subsequent loss of blood. from a cut to the stomach, right below the liver and spleen.
you look away before your eyes can read another line.
leaning back in your chair, you exhale a tiny sigh. desperate to fill the silence with something, anything at all. you scramble for topics, racking your brain.
(what could you possibly tell her that she doesn’t already know?)
”the others are still planning everything out,” you speak, playing with your fingers idly to distract yourself. ”i think it’s going well.”
shoko hums, unaffected. ”that’s good.”
she’s speaking to you, but that feeling of unease still won’t go away. her voice sounds still, flat. empty of emotion. but you can tell she’s trying to be polite.
that’s no surprise. shoko isn’t the type to ever show how she’s truly feeling. she’s not the type to ask for help, either. people come to her for help, not the other way around. that’s all she’s ever known.
(in that sense, the two of them were alike.)
but that just makes it all the more important for you to be there. even if you’re a little awkward, and even if you can’t do much. even if it’s only for a moment or two, you want to see her smile. you want to feel for yourself that she’s really there.
looking over at shoko, you wring your hands together, the cold air of the morgue nipping at your sweaty palms. she’s drinking from the cup, one finger around the handle as her other hand flips through the papers.
”does it taste okay?” you ask, softly. if only you could ask her that under better circumstances, with cups of espresso made with better coffee machines than those at jujutsu high. ”i made it myself, so…”
”it’s fine.” shoko takes a sip. dragging her syllables out, as if mustering the will to speak. ”don’t worry.”
short sentences. almost cold, but you know better than that. she just doesn’t have it in her to pretend that everything is normal, anymore.
and it makes you uncomfortable. this silence.
a couple months ago, it would have felt comforting; a quiet, peaceful kind of solitude shared between the two of you. nostalgic, like the smell of morning dew. or the way moonlight feels on your skin when the world falls asleep.
the silence you had with shoko always felt so tender. a single moment of peace, before the other shoe dropped. just that one moment was enough to give you the hope you needed to make it through another day.
you loved being silent with shoko. you loved her silence, the way she could soothe your very soul without saying a thing.
but now it only stings your skin. you fear that you might drown in it.
there is nothing to say. you want to ask her how she’s doing, but you already know. you want to ask her why she’s still reading the files from gojo’s autopsy, but you already know.
you want to ask her if she can still keep going, like this. but you already know.
she doesn’t have a choice.
(something crumbles, deep inside your chest, like ashes cast into the sea.)
”hey. shoko?”
she hums, again. weak. quiet. absentminded, acknowledging your words but not really hearing them.
you take a deep breath.
”i think i’m going to quit being a sorcerer.”
silence.
for a moment, nothing happens. nothing moves, or speaks. the air is cold and crisp and carries no meaning, no words, nothing at all.
like time is frozen. frozen like all the bodies shoko’s had to dig inside these past few months. frozen like gojo was when she found him in the snow.
frozen like your youth, a glass marble kept in your pocket for moments when you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is about to slip away. then you’d take it out, and look deep inside it. watch the swirling of greens and blues and purples. that streak of indigo right in the middle of the glass. memories of the past, to give you comfort.
to remind yourself of why you’re doing this. to give you a reason to keep moving forward.
(south or north, it doesn’t matter. stay as you are or move forward, look to the past or to the future — none of it matters if you aren’t alive. that’s the conclusion you came to.)
shoko’s expression, too, is frozen. it doesn’t change, even as you let those loaded words fall from your tongue. you watch her carefully, out of the corner of your eye. she doesn’t even look at you, gaze still glued to the tiny letters detailing exactly what gojo’s pulse was at when he got cut.
but something flickers, in the depths of her irises, so fast you barely catch it. something you can’t identify, but it’s still something. it’s movement. it’s alive.
”not right now, obviously,” you elaborate. suddenly a little nervous, now that the words have been made manifest. ”but… you know. once all this is over.”
not sure what else to say, you trail off, fidgeting with your fingers again. voice wavering pitifully towards the end of the sentence, because deep down you know it’s not a question of once, but a question of if.
(if this ever ends. if i don’t die tomorrow, or the day after that.)
you swallow the lump in your throat, and look at her. trying to find her eyes. trying to keep her alive for as long as you can, this sequence of motion, this moment frozen in time.
trying to reach her.
”you won’t ever have to worry about me dying,” you throw in, like the words are light and not heavy as bricks. but you know she needs to hear them. ”i’ll leave, and then — and then…”
staring down at your lap, you link your hands together. exhaling, a little breathless. sheepish, in a way. ”… well. i don’t know. i haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.”
you never had the chance to. you didn’t even really think of it as a possibility, as something you could do. and you know it’s not a possibility for shoko. the choice to be a sorcerer was never hers, from the very beginning.
a user of the reverse cursed technique. capable of healing almost any wound, more power and capability than a child should ever have. invaluable. she’s saved so many lives you’re sure she’ll be reborn as a god.
but the choice was never hers.
a soothing kind of ache blooms in both your palms, as your nails dig into the soft skin. hard enough to form crescents, like the ones under shoko’s eyes, that she’ll never be rid of no matter how much she sleeps. the choice was never hers.
isn’t that just too cruel?
they don’t deserve her. none of them do. the elders didn’t, the jujutsu world doesn’t — not even the students. no one deserves it; everything she does for everyone, day and night, just slaving away in the morgue or her office. cutting up curses and old friends. every second of the day, always that same buzzing of her name being called.
shoko, someone needs healing, come quick!
shoko, i know it’s 2 am and you have work tomorrow, but there’s a curse that i need you to dissect.
shoko, i think i got a paper cut, would you mind taking a look?
none of them deserve her.
you think of gojo. a flash of white hair, a grin brighter than the sun. a bloodstained smile — one shoko had to wipe away.
something ugly claws its way up your throat.
none of them deserve her. especially not him.
what were you thinking, leaving her all alone like this? so much for being the strongest. you couldn’t even stay alive.
why would you die with a smile on your face? do you have any idea how cruel that is to her?
you idiot. don’t you know how much she missed you?
— yeah. none of them deserve her. gojo doesn’t, the world doesn’t, and neither do you. no one does.
what shoko deserves is to live a normal life.
and she never will.
it’s foolish. it’s naive, a juvenile daydream. but you wish for it so, so badly. so much that even just the thought alone feels like too much to bear.
you wish you could bring her with you.
you wish you could take her hand in yours, and run away. leave it all behind, every single thing, without caring about the consequences. you’d hold her hand and never let it go, and then you’d run and run until you were both high on adrenaline and breathless laughter.
maybe you could go somewhere, together. somewhere better. outside of japan, where there are less curses. money wouldn’t be an issue, you both have more than you know what to do with — one of the perks of having a job that’s bound to kill you. you could settle down in some smaller town, peaceful, maybe a little secluded. just to make sure no one finds you.
maybe you could open up a little shop, together. or spend all your days tangled up beneath the blankets, catching up on lost sleep. talking and whispering, like you’d do back at the sleepovers you used to have. you’d make her coffee every morning, and tea every evening. you’d spend the rest of your life trying to make her laugh as loud as possible.
there’s nothing you want more. absolutely nothing. there never will be.
— but you can’t ask her.
you can’t ask her to come with you, no matter how much you want to. that’d be the cruelest thing you could possibly do to her.
she would never agree. you’d only be hurting her more. so selfish, all of these wishes. it was so much simpler back when you were just kids. when you didn’t have to care about duties or responsibilities. when your cognitive empathic abilities were just a little more lacking.
a sigh flows from your lips. resigned, but somewhat hopeful, all the same. tainted with the murmurs of a memory that’ll never happen.
”maybe i’ll open up a bakery, or something.” you tap your fingers against the desk, smiling a little to yourself at the thought. or trying to. ”then you could come visit.”
shoko looks into her cup of coffee. watching the swirling of the vortex, the abyss that gazes back at her. she doesn’t look at you but you can tell she’s listening. then she puts the cup down, and you glance at her now-empty hand.
shoko’s hands have always been pretty. even when they’re covered in grime, or stained with blood. thin, a little bony, smooth skin obscuring clear blue veins. moles litter her hands like stars in the sky; one right beneath her pinkie, another by her wrist. the more you look, the more you find.
tentatively, you broach the distance between you. curling your fingers around her slender ones, where they rest on her lap. linking hands. it’s a slow movement, drawn out and careful, accompanied by the heavy beating of your heart.
(her skin is cold to the touch. your skin buzzes with unease, but you don’t let go.)
then you smile. a small thing, not really optimistic, but the attempt is there. something for her to hold on to. looking deep into her eyes, admiring the hazel glow that never quite left them.
”i’ll give you free pastries.”
a moment passes. shoko’s fingers squeeze around yours — weakly, but it’s there. movement, motion, life. a way of reaching out. a way to hold on.
her eyes continue to trail over the page, but you know she’s not reading any of the contents. you’ve caught her attention. a small victory, but you’ll take what you can get.
”i don’t like sweets,” she reminds you, leaning back a little in her chair. allowing her eyes to flutter shut, at last — and it’s not much but it’s something. a moment of relief for those tired, tired eyes. more tired than any 29 year old’s should be.
”i’ll change your mind,” you promise, mustering up enough will to sound smug. ”my pastries will be out of this world. you’ll get a sweet tooth in no time, sho.”
she exhales a breath, vaguely amused. your smile widens, hopelessly. her happiness was always the root of yours, wasn’t it?
then she looks at you, one eyebrow raised in lazy scepticism. ”can you even bake?”
”nope,” you deadpan. ”but i’ll learn. you’ll see.”
this time, shoko almost chuckles — and it’s more than you’ve gotten out of her in recent memory. god, you missed that sound. a little raspy, from all the cigarettes, but still so honeyed and smooth. hearing it makes you feel as if everything will turn out fine, in the end.
(what a powerful thing, for a voice to do. one so lovely it anchors you to the earth.)
a faux pout curls its way to your lips, and you squeeze her hand lightly. ”don’t laugh, i’m being serious!” your pout shifts into a soft grin, a little teasing. ”i’ll get you addicted to sugar instead of nicotine.”
”haha…”
shoko laughs. shoko laughs and it’s beautiful.
shoko laughs, a genuine laugh, and it’s so beautiful that you almost don’t notice the tears in her eyes. almost.
and then you realize your mistake.
a memory comes to you, then. you recall a hushed conversation, beneath a cloudy summer sky. the air was heavy with the scent of lilacs and cigarette smoke. two people were beside you, and all you cared about was listening to the tilt of their voices. that, and nothing more. a time before everything and everyone went south.
(”you know, shoko. you really should drop those death sticks of yours.”
”i don’t want to hear that from the guy who needs 40 grams of pure sugar every day just to function.”
”rude! and as far as addictions go, sugar is a cut above nicotine, don’t ya think?”
”whatever. just worry about yourself, gojo.”)
by the time you realize, it’s already far too late. the tears have already begun to fall. little droplets of grief, sticking to her skin.
they trickle down the contours of shoko’s face, and fall onto the paper in her hand, smudging the letters. she clutches it tightly, crinkling it, just to make the damage worse. her other hand is still holding yours, chipped nails digging into your skin gently.
but she keeps laughing. low, hazy laughter — pained. she sounds like she’s in pain, and that’s because she is. even if no one ever cares to mention it.
(how cruel, for her to be born with the reverse cursed technique. capable of healing any physical wound; leaving her with too many mental ones to count. never to be healed or acknowledged, in this life or the next.)
you can only stare. helpless to her sadness. her eyes are a little red, and she’s biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood — a drop of scarlet falls onto the paper, and you think of gojo again.
you think of shoko finding him. running to his side. doing all she could to heal him, to patch him up — getting blood all over her hands and clothes. red everywhere, staining the pure white of the snowfall. like something out of a painting.
she did all that she could. pressing down on his chest, positive cursed energy pouring out from her fingertips in tandem with the snow. pressing two shaky fingers to his pulse point, just in case. just to find any sign of life, absolutely anything. hoping so tenderly that she’d feel the flutter of his pulse. that he’d get up, and laugh obnoxiously, and ask her if she really thought he’d leave her behind so easily.
you’d never seen her look so scared. so desperate, a primal kind of fear you’ve learned to associate with self-driven survival. the way some animals can claw their way out of a predator’s stomach if they’re swallowed whole. but she did that to save him. trying to claw him out, herself. from the belly of the beast.
she did all that she could.
but gojo didn’t do anything. he just laid there, split in two. frozen in time, eternally young. watching the sky. smiling.
(what a wonderful way to die. what an awful thing for an old friend to find.)
before your mind can catch up, your body acts. muscle memory, in the way your arms curl around her midriff to bring her close. tucking her into your side while she sniffles and cries. still laughing, like she’s still trying to convince you that she’s fine. like she’s isn’t falling apart at the seams.
the dam breaks. the ice shatters. everything comes crashing down — and you’re there to pick up the pieces. despite everything.
it’s not enough, it never will be. but at least it’s something.
it’s heart-wrenching, the way she clings to you. like you’re the only thing she has. the dry laughter that spills from her throat devolves into sobbing, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, nails clinging to the fabric of your clothing like she’s trying to anchor herself. broken sniffles fill the space between you as she hides away, in the crook of your neck.
(the sound makes you feel like someone drove a knife from your sternum down to your stomach.)
all you can do is hold her. quietly, delicately. as if she could break if you squeeze her too hard. as if she’d shatter like a sheet of glass if you were to say the wrong thing again.
you hold shoko like she’s fragile. because she is, regardless of what anyone else says. because she’s a human being, and she’s grieving, and she needs this.
eventually, she musters up the will to speak — and it’s awful, raspy, broken syllables she has to force out of her throat.
she chokes on the words like they’re poisonous. like she’s been carrying them around for decades, bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to be let out.
“don’t — don’t end up here,” shoko pleads, voice wavering through the syllables. full of fear. “please.”
you know what she means. she doesn’t have to say it, because you know.
don’t end up in my morgue. don’t end up on my autopsy table.
shoko sounds meek. she sounds close to falling apart. you’ve never seen her like this before, clutching onto your sleeves as if begging you to stay.
“you’re — you’re the only one i…”
she doesn’t finish, cut off by a broken sniffle. but she doesn’t need to.
you’re the only one i have left. i can’t lose you, too.
please don’t die. please don’t leave me behind.
a shaky inhale. your arms tighten around her waist, tugging her closer. praying that she’ll feel the steady beating of your heart, the undeniable proof that you’re alive. that you haven’t left her yet.
you blink away the tears in your eyes, grasping for control over your wavering voice.
“i won’t.”
and maybe it’s cruel, maybe it’s the cruelest thing you could do to her — making a promise you know you might not be able to keep. but you do so anyway. helpless to her sadness. at the complete mercy of her grief. you’d do anything to stop the tears from falling, to soothe the turmoil in her chest.
“i won’t let you be alone, shoko,” you murmur into her hair, with all the comfort you can possibly muster. ”not now, or ever.”
three words yearn to be spoken, resting on the tip of your tongue. three little syllables, desperate to be heard after living in the back of your throat for so many years.
and for a second, you think you might say it.
you think you might say it, breathe life into the statement. you can almost taste it, can almost hear it. can almost see what her expression would look like.
but shoko sniffles, and hugs you tighter. protective, like you’ll leave if she doesn’t. so tightly that it hurts a little.
and you swallow the words, once more.
right now, this is enough. it’s enough that you’re alive, that you’re here. that’s what shoko needs, right now.
she doesn’t need your love. she just needs you to stay alive.
so you will. you decide that you will, no matter what. you’ll leave, and you’ll open up a shitty bakery that won’t get any customers — and you’ll give her free pastries for the rest of your life. you’ll get her so addicted to sweets that she’ll have no choice but to come back for more.
shoko cries like a child. filling the silence of the morgue with her shaky breaths and quiet sniffles, little hiccups and whimpers. the tears never seem to stop, and you wonder how long it’s been since she last let them fall.
you hold her in your arms, smoothing a palm down her back, counting the bumps of vertebra — and don’t say anything. there’s no need to.
for now, the soft patter of your heartbeat is enough.
ijichi stands just outside the morgue, unmoving. not saying a thing.
it’s muffled, hushed and quiet, but still audible. the sound of childlike crying. the kind all sorcerers do their best to keep to themselves.
in his arms lie a bundle of papers. the final pages of gojo’s autopsy report. it’s important that shoko sees them — vital, according to her. something about the six eyes, the possibilities they hold. the hope that maybe, just maybe…
— he clutches them tightly, and then walks away.
#the wlw urge to leave everything behind and start a bakery together……#idk how to feel abt this i just!! needed to get some shoko thoughts out!!! she’s my fave jjk girl and i love the way her grief is portrayed#i just hope gege does her justice but i have a good feeling that he will!! if not its on sight#she’s so special to me. the airport scene hurts sm because she really is all alone now :(( its so fucked up i SOBBED into my pillow#well i mean. she still has ijichi. and i love him dont get me wrong but like. STILL#im delusional tho so i think next chapter shoko will use her rct to heal gojo#and then we’ll get a scene of him leaving the airport with shoko. trust me gege and i are like this🤞#sorry for basing all my titles on siken poems. anyway go read ’i had a dream about you’ its so shoko#shoko ieiri#shoko ieiri x reader#shoko ieiri x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk#jjk spoilers#jujutsu kaisen spoilers#jjk 236#jujutsu kaisen 236#…. i think. thats all the tags…….
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Since you're so afraid of AI, I hope it displaces all of your family, takes over any and all skill you may have, and all you have left is polishing AIs balls. You refuse to learn, but we will make you learn.
framing this one and putting it on my mantle for my followers to point and laugh at. fucking clown
#send me anything else and youre blocked btw. youll think its bc im running from the conversation. im sure#but honestly? its because youre poopy at debating and havent made a single compelling point yet while still managing-#-to completely dodge my original point. you havent said a single meaningful sentance to me#& dont get me wrong. i fucking love debating. but your brain is slime and i dont think you can actually comprehend what im saying#ive definitely given you way more time than you were worth for the sake of a laugh but youre starting to annoy me 😇
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other than the fact that astrology and astronomy (yestheyaredifferetnt) elements dabble into supernatural subjects, i feel like one of the main reasons Monty focused on astrology is because that was his way to sorta ‘fly’ as a human.
Think about it, he was a crow his whole life, hes always been able to fly and shit, and now he got turned into a human, so i think the learning astrology and signs/personality traits of astrology was his way to keep his connection with the sky, while learning how to be human and all the different human emotions or… feelings
astrology is based on zodiac constellation, constellation which can be seen in the sky at night. While each sign has a different personality trait and/or stereotype.
i mean he did manage to call Edwin out and figure out his sign within less than a week of being an actual human…..
now the most important part of this hc, rant, thingy
everybody say it with me, FUCK YOU ESTHER (god i hate how funny u can be)
#Hc#dbda#dead boy detective#dead boy detective agency#monty dbd#monty the crow#monty finch#esther finch#crows#astrology#they would never be able to make me hate you monty#Montwin#monty x edwin#edwin x monty#dont get me wrong i love charles and edwin together#But im a multishipper#Alr#ill fuck with everytthing#And that sweet but tragic ship has my heart
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looking at the 13 era books and audios like do we have to do everything our fucking selves around here
#at the same time. yes let me do everything my fucking self bc if they let real writers do it theyll get it wrong#they dont get them like we get them#but at the same time also. 3 books 6 years ago#helloooo#i want more 'sorry abt his outfit :/' dan yaz shenanigans pleaaaaseeeeeeee#we've got at least 10 months of yaz and 13 solo and at least 6 months of them with dan#all of which was Extremely Tense Times in super interesting and different ways#like come ON#big finish!!!!!!!!!!!!!#LET ME WRITE#i can do it i learnt audio drama from wolf 359 the only guys who ever did it right (hyperbole)#i can Use the Medium (probably)#and i have 3 years of experience of writing In Love And Fighting Instead Of Talking About It thasmin i can do ittttttttttttt#give me a couple of boxsets no idont have a cv i have a lot of Thoughts tho and thats enough im sure thats enough#i dont think mandip and jodie are hard to convince to record a couple of boxsets for us come onnnnn#let!!! me!!! write!!!!!!!! it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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