#have i been in pain this entire time and didnt even know

[meanderfall]

not to sound dramatic, but my new bras came in, and they are the best thing to have happened to me in. months, probably. maybe even years.

[random-autie-fangirl]

I drew another Chara- living with the Dreemurrs edition

"The King and Queen treated the human child as their own. The underground was filled with hope."

I don't like this as much as the last one but oh well... I ended up rambling a huge amount in the tag, so if you want details and headcanons about the actual drawing again, you'll have to look pretty far down this time, sorry (Also, I ran out of tags after a while. Tumblr is tired of me, lol. I might reblog this more tags later if I remember what I was going to say.)

[hwanswerland]

can we stop putting celebrities on horses for aesthetic reasons when they can't ride for shit

[lemontongues]

one thing about me as a batman fan is that im not 100% convinced his penis works very good. im completely fine with fanfic where hes horny as hell and fucks like a machine and all that but in my heart of hearts im like. this man has erectile dysfunction.

like first of all theres the psychological aspect, in the sense that that man is stressed the hell out and traumatized and paranoid and juggling like 600% more in his head than the average person, which im told doesnt usually contribute to great boners. so there's that part. getting the man to put down his schedules and business concerns and the three different cases hes working on in the back of his head and the updates he wants to make to the batmobile and all that shit. that guy is Distracted during sex. he loses his boner at least once a session because he starts thinking about killer croc or something and yeah hes freaky but not really in that direction, sorry. this is a thing that happens to him and is a known phenomenon to his partners.

and then second of all physiologically im not convinced that he hasnt mangled his penis to some degree in the course of all the training and crimefighting and whatnot. like even taking extra pains to protect it as im sure he would, all of the times that man has been exploded and thrown through walls and glass and all of the jumping off of buildings and swinging around he does?? i simply dont believe his penis has emerged entirely unscathed. you absolutely cant tell me that in the early days he didnt at least twice take a running leap off of something, misjudge his landing, and absolutely destroy his balls when he slipped and took a wrought iron fence full force between the legs. this must have happened. i know it to be true that this man has scars on his dick that he didn't ask someone to put there on purpose and i do kinda think it could eventually affect his sexual function, even aside from the impact of all of his other various and perpetual injuries causing him pain.

so what im saying is that my headcanon is that batman's dick game is weak as hell at least 50% of the time. what that dick do? today, absolutely nothing. tomorrow, who knows. which tbh i find kinda hot in a roundabout way actually, so. love that for him. sorry about your penis, batman.

[rbtlvr]

tonight i am feeling unwell about [spins a wheel] [throws a dart] the fact that loop went and talked to the party in act 5. like realistically, at that point they had no reason to think siffrin wouldnt loop back when they died or reached the end. they could have just sat there and waited. i mean sif wouldve been fucked if they had because of mdp but loop didnt know about that at the time obviously

so like. with the knowledge they had at that point, it would be entirely reasonable for them to just wait and try to get through to sif again next loop. and yet. and yet and yet and yet. they went and talked to siffrins party. guided them through the house. to save siffrin. after the last thing siffrin said to them was curse you, loop

even knowing the party didnt recognize them. having to stay on the line with the people they loved more than anything, enough to trap themself in a time loop for years, people who didn't remember them, didn't remember any of the times theyd shared, any of the things that happened, people who didnt know them anymore

as painful as it must have been. they still did it. for siffrin. to save siffrin. even though they mustve thought it wouldnt change anything, wouldnt break the loops, wouldnt fix siffrins mental state. they still tried. to give him even just one more loop

and then at the end of it all they didnt even think that was worth thanking them for. even the smallest amount of gratitude they couldnt believe theyd be showed. for putting themself through that. for siffrin. i feel ill :thumbsup:

[mythicmanuscripts]

READER COMBING THEIR FINGERS THROUGH AEMONDS HAIR WHILE OVERSTIMULATING HIM UNTIL HE SEES STARS AND CAN ONLY SPEAK IN HIGH VALERYIAN

SO TRUE ANON SO TRUE

Sub!Aemond smut below the cut, venture down below if you dare.

Being overstimulated until he can barely even think anymore is one of your favourite things to do with him. It took a long time for Aemond to reach a point where he started to enjoy having his limits pushed like that. For months you never even came within seeing distance of anything that may have been harder for him, but over time he started to realise how much he enjoys how his entire mind goes quiet when you do that type of thing with him. He stops feeling so vulnerable after sex with you, stops hiding away and that's when you can slowly start to piece together how much he not only wants, but needs to be taken apart like that.

Aemond is prone to multiple sleepless nights, especially when he's stressed. He does a brilliant job of holding himself together around everyone else and seeming calm and almost nonchalant about everything. Bu then the door closes in your shared chambers and he starts to show his uncertainty and confusion.

It usually takes two or three tough days for Aemond to accept help from you. Of course you can tell immediately that he's starting to go downhill, but at first he always denies it. You've learnt that you have to just let him come to you because if you push him then he'll feel uncomfortable around you and pull away even more.

Anyway point is, I think overstimulation is the absolute best way to help him relax and finally get some rest. Edging and mild pain play are too much fun for him, those are the things he loves, the things that get him blushing down to his chest and mumbling how bad he wants it.

But overstimulation is saved for the times when he needs you to help him feel okay again.

At first you'd try a whole range of different positions for it but within a few weeks you settle on sitting next to him with his leg hooked over your thighs to give you full access. He gets to hide against your shoulder and grip onto you as much as he wants, gets to whine and plead right into your ear so he doesn't have to speak above a whisper.

You make him cum enough times that he's a complete dishevelled mess, that he doesn't even know if he's begging you for more or to stop, not a single coherent thought in his pretty head. You know you've got him right where you want him when his legs start shaking and he stops talking favouring whines and whimpers instead.

Once you've achieved that, you immediately start praising him and sort of just loving on him? That's where the running your hands through his hair comes in. Aemond absolutely LOVES it, especially when you let him play with your fingers on your other hand at the same time.

Aemond used to try and shuffle away when it was over because he would be sweaty and covered in his own cum and he didnt want to make you dirty. Needless to say, you pull him back immediately and he just melts into you. All protests cease the moment he feels your hand in his hair.

You lay like that for a while, playing his hair, stroking his back, kissing his head. Often he'll look up at you for a kiss and you'll end up just gently kissing him, pulling away every now and then to kiss his cheeks and head.

You stay like that until he starts to seem a bit more aware of his surroundings, then you run a bath for the two of you to share before you run down to the kitchens to fetch some water and snacks for him. He'll only eat on two conditions: 1) you handfeed him and 2) he gets to feed you too. Of course those conditions are more than agreeable.

Sometimes Aemond falls asleep the moment you're finished eating and have put the plate away and climbed back into bed. Like the moment his head touches your chest he's out like a light.

Other times he'll have bit more energy than he had before? Make no mistake he's in no state to be around anyone but you, but he's able to talk a bit more with you and seem more alert than he was before you played with him. Usually that's what happens when there's something he needs advice on, or just something he wants to vent to you about. It's only once he's been so thoroughly broken down that he can feel safe enough to tell you what's on his mind and ask you for help.

So yes, playing with his hair is absolutely essential.

[gf2bellamy]

hi lovely!! i have a request that could be loosely tied to episode 10x15 where the unsub targets women with low self-esteem, if he doesn’t actually end up doing that im sorry, im literally 15 minutes into that episode and i got this idea (i do remember the unsub hinting that one of the victim’s husbands is abusive, which obviously spence wouldnt be so i guess that’s why it’s loosely tied)

i was thinking established relationship and r is not in the bau, she gets kidnapped by the unsub. spencer panics for ages but they save her and he kinda has a little talk with her to reassure her since he knows the reason what the unsub’s victimology is. (she has low self-esteem)

i know you have plenty of requests right now, so focus on taking care of yourself and don’t be afraid to take breaks!! we love you 💗

- 🐚/ele

self-esteem — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mentions of reading being hurt and having bruises , reader was kindapped ( but theres no details of it ) , mention of a hospital and weapons a/n: hii ele <3 thank you so much ilysm :( and funnily enough i actually rewatched that episode 2 weeks ago ?!?! i didnt dive too much into the kidnapping part but more so the part where spencer comforts reader ( hope thats okay <3 )

The key turned in the lock with a soft click, and Spencer shouldered open the door to his apartment, his arms weighed down by both his bag and yours, his fingers still laced tightly with yours.

He hadn’t let go—not in the car ride home, not when Hotch had dismissed the team, not even when you’d stopped for coffee and the barista had given him an amused glance at his refusal to release your hand. 

You didn’t mind. 

After the past two days, you understood. 

The bags hit the floor with a thud, and Spencer turned to you immediately, his gaze flickering over your face like he needed to reassure himself you were still there. His fingers twitched against yours, restless, as if even the idea of breaking contact was unbearable. 

It made sense. Forty-eight hours ago, an unsub had taken you. 

Forty-eight hours ago, Spencer had nearly lost his mind. 

It had only been a few hours —barely enough time for the team to figure out where you were, to pinpoint the abandoned warehouse, to storm in with weapons drawn. But for Spencer, those hours had stretched into an eternity. He could still see your state when he found you. Still see the way you had reached for him with tears streaming down your face. 

And now you were here. Safe. With him. 

You shifted slightly, detangling your hand from his to shrug off your jacket, and he moved before you could even lift your arms, his hands already at your shoulders, easing the fabric down with care. His breath hitched when you winced, his eyes zeroing in on the bruises circling your wrists—ugly, violent imprints left by rope. His jaw clenched. 

"Are you hungry?" he asked abruptly, his voice softer than usual. "I could make you something. A sandwich, or—or soup. If you’d prefer that." 

His hands lingered, brushing over the scarf at your neck, his touch feather-light as he unwound it. The pads of his fingers skimmed your skin, where there were light bruises.

His thumb stroked over them before he could stop himself, his chest tightening when you exhaled shakily. 

"Spence," you murmured, turning to face him fully. His name was barely more than a whisper, but it snapped his attention back to your eyes. 

He swallowed hard. "I’m sorry," he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure what for. For not protecting you sooner? For not being faster? For the way his hands trembled now, desperate to pull you close and terrified of causing you more pain? 

You reached up, cupping his face, and he leaned into your touch instinctively, his lashes fluttering shut for a brief, stolen second. 

"You don’t have to apologize," you said gently. 

His throat worked. "I know."  

His arms came around you, carefully , his nose burying in your hair as he held you. The scent of his shampoo mixed with the lingering traces of antiseptic from the hospital. 

"We can just go to bed if you want," he mumbled, his voice quiet and hesitant. 

You nodded against him, your fingers still loosely curled around the fabric of his cardigan. "I’d like that." 

He pulled back just enough to guide you towards his bedroom, his fingers ghosting over the small of your back.

When you slipped beneath the covers, Spencer was right there, his arms instinctively pulling you closer. Your head found its place against his chest, where his heartbeat thrummed steadily beneath your ear.

You let out a slow breath, your fingers tracing absent patterns over the fabric of his shirt. Since the moment they’d pulled you from that house, the only place you’d felt truly safe was here. With him. And right now, you couldn’t have felt any safer. 

Spencer shifted slightly, his fingers mirroring yours, tracing lazy, feather-light shapes against your back. His touch was delicate.

Then, softly, he spoke. 

"You know I love you, right?" His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Your lips curled into the faintest smile, still weak but genuine, and you patted his chest lightly. "Yeah, I do, Spencer." 

For a moment, there was only silence—comfortable, warm. Then he exhaled, his fingers stilling against your spine. 

"I know why he chose you," Spencer murmured, his voice quieter now, careful. "The unsub. I read his profile over and over again. He—he targeted women who didn’t see their own worth. Who doubted themselves. Who thought they weren’t enough." 

You swallowed, your throat suddenly tight.  

Spencer’s arms tightened around you, like he could shield you from the weight of his words. "He looked for kindness. For vulnerability. And he used it against them, made them feel small, made them believe they deserved what happened to them." He shook his head, his fingers pressing gently into your back. "But he was wrong. About all of it. About you." 

You stayed quiet, not because you didn’t want to argue—but because a part of you still wondered if the unsub had been right. Maybe you were weak. Maybe you were nothing special. Maybe— 

Spencer’s voice broke through the spiral of thoughts before they could consume you. "You are not weak," he said firmly, like he could hear everything you weren’t saying. "Do you know how strong you are? How incredible?" 

You let out a breath that was almost a laugh, except it wasn’t. "Spence—" 

"You are," he insisted, shifting so he could look at you. His eyes were serious, burning with something fierce. "Do you know how terrified I was? How the thought of losing you—" He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment before pulling back. "You survived something horrible. You fought. And you’re here. And I don’t ever want you to think that you’re anything less than extraordinary." 

You bit your lip, blinking rapidly. "But what if—what if he was right? What if I—" 

"He wasn’t," Spencer interrupted, his grip gentle but firm. "I see you. Every day, I see you. I see the way you care, the way you love. The way you make the world better just by being in it." His fingers traced along your jaw, tipping your chin up slightly. "You matter. Not because of what happened to you, not because of what someone else believed—but because of who you are. And who you are is someone I love. More than anything." 

Your breath hitched, something breaking open inside you—not in a painful way, but in a way that let the light in. 

Spencer pulled you closer again, his lips brushing your temple. "And if you ever forget that, I’ll remind you. As many times as it takes." 

A small, wobbly smile formed on your lips. "That might be a lot of reminders." 

His own smile was soft, warm. "Then I guess I’ll be talking for a very long time." 

[learningfromlosing]

I think she's happy to be back 🥺🤧

WE JUST FOUND THE KITTEN WE LOST THE DAY WE HAD TO MOVE OUT OF OUR HOME 6 DAYS AGO!!!!!!!!

[archrries]

Asking my mom about her disability so I can give you all pretty accurate information on Viktor o7

She has post-polio, and has a leg brace like he does. So for all your "could Viktor do this?" questions, I go to my mother ♡ He most likely has a combination of things, but definitely seems to have post-polio. So yes, other things could stop him from these activities but overall, this is a swing at how it works for this aspect of his life.

What I know as of now about Viktor, most likely,

- could skateboard

- could drive a motorcycle

- drive a car (has to use good leg to press on pedals)

- does NOT sleep with the leg brace on

- dead silent when he takes the brace off

- my mom played sports that involved throwing more than running (softball (pitcher), volleyball, she did try out for football at some point but the coach didnt want a girl trying out)

- sigh...yes...he can do the deed without breaking a fucking hip. He isnt made of glass. Im not going into detail on this one thanks

- roller skating

- shoot a gun (idk why this is debated)(also though i will say that for some guns, the kick is too strong. The entire body is effected by polio, its just most severe in some parts like his leg)

- ice skating!!! I know this is a hot debate, she has gone ice skating

Ill ask my mom about more if you have any specific questions 👍

More info edit:

My Mom's leg has unfortunately gotten worse, which is nothing new considering it's been worsening her entire life, but this means her heel bone is now digging through the skin and muscle of her foot. She will be getting surgery to shave the bone down and hopefully that will help her to walk better on it again once it's healed. Take that as you will in reference to Viktor and his worsening condition. She has told me several times that she is in a lot of pain, which she typically does not vocalize.

- can carry kids around for short periods of time (she babysits my nieces and nephews constantly)

- can HAVE kids for that matter (for all your trans and mpreg needs 😭) though this certainly was a toll on her body even back when she was younger

- maybe this is just specific to her but every single time something gets mentioned that could even POSSIBLY be polio, she gets worried. I mentioned my little cousin being sick and suddenly not able to walk on her own (she is doing okay right now, no pain) and she instantly asked if she had drunk any dirty water (where polio is most commonly found) She freaked when my sister was born with a little wonky leg even though it's 1) not passed down from mother to child and 2) fixed itswlf within a month. All my siblings were immediately vaccinated for polio as well as other major things, though she gets very nervous about new vaccines because she got it from the polio vaccine which contained the live virus at the time (no longer used) She did not want me vaccinated for covid or HPV because of this worry.

- When she gets sick, she gets sick BAD. Last time she was sick, she was in a fever state for three days and doesn't remember a single thing.

- Fear of death, judgement, or being arrested has never really affected her. She has a DNR (which I'm not a fan of, but I understand if shit goes wrong, she doesn't want to be resuscitated just to experience way more pain), she's always lived on the crazy side but stopped once she had kids (I mean used to ride her motorcycle like she was trying to speed run death), always tells me I need to stop caring what people think cause she stopped giving a shit early on with all the bullying, she has in fact pulled a gun on a man for hurting me and the ONLY reason I think she didn't pull that trigger is because there was someone else in the way, she actively encourages cops, security, etc to try and stop her when it comes to the safety of her family (she most recently started shit with staff because my nephew broke his arm at school and no one will tell her what happened)

- She handles her farm pretty much alone. Chickens, ducks, goats, sheep, rabbits, turkeys. And I'm so sorry to say they are both long term and short stay animals....We only name pets. Anything without a name is sent to freezer camp 😭

- Which leads me to tell you she is a butcher, and has always hung up meat and quartered it herself. She also hunts, so she does it with venison too. Plus we try and use as much of the animal as possible as to respect it. So that's butchering, tanning hides, cleaning off bones, making twine.

- She loves to lie about what happened to her leg. Her favorite for kids is that she's a cyborg or a transformer. Most adults just assume military and she doesn't tell them otherwise. She used to tell ppl for a while that she jumped out of one of the towers on 9/11.......💀 crazy since she was born and raised in New York

[jago-xx]

The difference between Ivans dying “heartbeat” and Tills dying “heartbeat” is interesting—to me at least.

Ivan’s heartbeat is characterized by the beat of drums and is rather passionate and energetic. Its loud, urgent, and suspenseful. Much like the feelings hes held for Till for the majority of his time in The Garden. His yearning is deep and woven into him; the thought of Till is his morning joy and his nights peace. In almost everything we see of Ivan, he is either watching, talking, or helping Till. Though he seems calm and composed most of the time, his obsession runs deep. He enjoys being with Till …even if Till isn’t entirely aware of his presence. Even in Tills rejection, he remained devoted. Till was his everything. We can see this in one of Ivans interviews where hes asked, “Have you gotten everything youve ever wanted?” and he responds: “No, but i came very close once.” This must be in reference to when he and Till nearly escaped together under a meteor shower.

So its no wonder Ivan would feel this love—this obsession surging through him as he sacrificed himself for Till. Be felt love, sadness, and longing in last moments. His heart was thrumming in his chest, as if it was trying to rip itself from its cage of bones, if only to unite with Tills this once. His heartbeat banged and roared for Till in his last moments, and in his whole life, he’d never been more at peace.

Till, on the other hand, had a meek, innocent, melancholic xylophone for a “heartbeat”.

Unlike Ivan, Till was deeply wounded in heart and body. His entire life he was abused, used, and treated like trash. He didnt take it lying down, but even the fiercest people get tired of the constant pain. He had gotten used to touch that was hurtful, and to hard hearts. To him, hate and anger were the norm. Those emotions came easily to him, and became part of what drove him forward. He had told himself for so long that his existence was supposed to be pain. That this is just how it is. And Ivan often challenged this belief. We see Ivan help Till multiple times. We see his loving looks and curious stares. Till was not used to such…attention. It challenged his natural inclination to hate. Ivan, though weird and sometimes annoying, never looked or treated Till like he was a burden. Although his actions, such as when he stepped on his flower crown, knowing they were hidden cameras, annoyed and sometimes angered Till, Ivan never did any of it from ill intent. And even still, he received Till’s anger, because even that type of attention from Till was bliss.

Till wasnt used to this treatment, so he avoided acknowledging it. He didn’t know what to make of it. All he knew to do was fight and push on. Run away. He couldn’t come to terms with the fact that maybe, just maybe, he loved Ivan. Maybe he liked the time Ivan would spend with him. Maybe he enjoyed his voice, and his touch, and even his weird humor.

Till didnt accept it until he had to watch Ivan die. Until he realized those kisses would be his first and last. He went into round 7 spiraling down a hole of regret and anguish. He did not want to die. He had just realized that love is in fact his to hold, that he doesn’t always have to fight. He had just realized that he had something to live for after all. He was weak in the heart and body. He yearned for the even a speck of innocence again, just to feel peace one last time. Mizi was a portal into that innocence, hence his flashback before his death. The girl he idolized was alive and he discovered his love for Ivan. He died when he had finally found reasons to live.

[scary-noodlesblog]

You and EJ have a daughter...

Trigger warnings: pregnancy, c-section, mentions of sex

Sorry this is reeeeaaaally long

AFAB Reader

Hes honestly probably the best dad out of them all

The entire pregnancy he was worried, hes a demon, or at least partially, honestly he had to consult Slender to make sure youd even survive

The faceless man reassured him that you should be fine

To be honest Jack knew you were pregnant before you knew, he could smell something off about you

He just didnt know what it was till you announced your pregnancy to him

You did it in such a cute way too 🥺 you bought a little black hoodie and a card that said "what is a dad" on the front. On the inside it said "you. You is a dad"

He threw his mask so fast and picked you up, spinning you in a hug. He was crying

He never thought he would see this day

The amount of research he does is absolutely insane

Jack has a primal instinct over you, protective, and dare i say sexual

We all know he has a breeding kink

He gets so horny even thinking about you being pregnant

Your pregnancy goes decently smooth, mild morning sickness, not really any mood swings

Until the 3rd trimester, that was hell, on both you and Jack

You were in a lot of pain. It was normal pain, hips, muscles, back, breasts, all achy.

Jack only got more nervous as the pregnancy progressed, not so much about your health anymore but more so for after the birth

Now unfortunately he isnt home when you go into labor

He was out getting food for himself, knowing he wouldnt want to leave you and the baby for a while, he even got a deep freezer for it

Thankfully Jack has a cell phone in case of emergencies, Jeff called him frantically

He rushed to the mansion so fast he almost forgot his duffle bag, by the time he got there you were in a hospital gown in the infirmary with Dr. Smiley

A device that tracks your contractions was on your belly, Dr. Smiley informed Jack you were 6 centimeters, not ready to push

Almost immediately after that your water broke, labor got more painful almost instantly, and Dr. Smiley put in an epidural and catheter, Jack holding you still while it happened

You and Jack waited patiently for it to be time. But it never came

It had been hours, you only made it to 7 centimeters, Dr. Smiley informed you both that you had gained an infection from your amniotic fluid, it had spread to the baby and that he needed to do an emergency c-section right that second

Jack feared the worst, that it was his fault, because the baby was half demon

Once you said yes, within minutes you were on an operating table, Jack was scrubbed up, along with Dr. Smiley and Nurse Ann

You were numb from the waist down, all you felt was tugging and pulling while Jack held your hand, his mask was off

Within minutes your daughter was born, she looked beautiful

Dr. Smiley handed her to Jack after the cord was cut and she was cleaned, who was crying again, he looked at her with the most love you've ever seen

You started to cry seeing her, her skin was (s/c) with a hint of her father's grey tone, she had a full head of Jack's hair, though unlike her father she did have eyes, and they were (e/c)

After you were sewn up, you were transferred back into a hospital bed, still a little numb

Jack had helped you scoot so he can sit next to you, holding your newborn baby girl

Let me know if you want a part 2! Also give this little girl a name in the comments <3

[boosnotes]

Would you fall in love with me again?

Shadow T. Hedgehog x reader

SPOILERS FOR SA2 AND SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG

Warning: mentions of commiting suicide, death, use of guns, general shadow things

Genre: angst/comfort

A/n: yooo, from when i was obsessed with epic!!!! i realize i lowkey love making song fics but hate reading them, this is based on shadow the hedgehog ending where vector is there and is theoretically he commits petit suisse iykyk. i had this since this song officially came out, but i never knew how to end it. also dont focus on the massive plot hole it has because of that stupid fucking bed, i didnt know what to replace it with, and writing about it just cut the mood

"Shadow... Is it you?" You looked up delicately as if your eyes could make him disappear again. It has been such a long time without him, everyone thought he was dead, yet he was standing right in front of you, your Shadow. "Have my prayers been answered? Is it really you standing there? Or am I dreaming once more...?"

They say eyes are the mirrors of the soul; he was never a soft man, or at least he never showed it, but his look was different, lacking any meaning. He was roaming the city without a path, looking at the destruction he had caused for being so gullible, for following black doom orders, for being born. He was barely there, only his physical form was still tied to the living world, but not for that long.

"You look different, your eyes look tired, your frame is lighter, your smile torn..." You cautiously step closer, the streets were still burning, nonetheless, the city was free from the black arms, and they now could slowly fix it again. Maybe you could fix him too...

"Is it really you my love...?" His eyes opened wide the moment your hands cupped his cheeks, as if they were the most precious thing in the world, it was the gentlest touch he had received this entire time, punches and pain were what he experienced since he woke up. He still didn't recognize you in his mind, but his heart and body were telling another story. His mouth reacted faster than he could process, his subconscious taking over for this job, protecting the only thing he had left.

"I am not the one you fell in love with, not the one you once adored. I am not your kind and gentle lover, I am not the love you knew before." He surprised himself with those words, it seems his soul knew you. All he comprehended he was feeling was guilt and shame, he didn't feel worthy of you, but he wanted you by his side nonetheless, maybe you were the answer. He drove his face away from your hands, he was not even capable of looking at you, though the hurt in your eyes made him continue with a soft whisper.

"Would you fall in love with me again if you knew all I've done? The things I cannot change, would you love me all the same?" Your heart clenched, you wanted to protect him, to pull him into your arms, to tell him everything was alright, but you knew he wasn't prepared, his walls too high to take them down so suddenly, so you waited for him once again. Meanwhile, you gently took his hands, scared that he'd pull away and lose him, but you needed to ground him.

"What kind of thing did you do...?" You tilted your head and tried to seek his eyes, those amber orbs you've missed and thought you'd never see again, your eyes also darted for a moment to one of the corpses left to rot on the street. You weren't dumb, you were aware he isn't the most moral man, efficiency is his highest priority in missions, whereas when things get too cruel, he stands his ground. He pulled away from you and physically distanced himself, only showing his back to you as he told his story.

"Left a trail of red on every street, as I traded friends like objects I could use. Hurt more lives than I could count on my hands, but all of that was to learn who was the one you once knew..." He reminisced all the times he helped Black Doom, he tried remending it by helping what they called themselves his friend, but the damage in his soul had been done, and the karma he owned couldn't be reverted. Although he wasn't deserving of love, he was greedy for you, for something he used to call his own. "So tell me, would you fall in love with me, I know that you've been waiting..." He gave a glimpse in your direction to make sure you were still there, the shame grew stronger and stronger the more he remembered. He failed everyone, his promise, his friends, himself... You.

"If that's true... Could you do me a favor? Just a moment of labor, that would bring me some peace.." You hugged your form in a grimace, everything felt cold. You went back to step one, after building trust with him, you had lost it all. If he was the same man you fell in love with, if he remembered and valued you, he should know how to act accordingly. "Remember that wedding bed? Could you carry it over? Lift it high on your shoulders, and take it far away from here"

"How could you say this?" his eyes hardened and a scowl folded into his features, the coldness had returned, that was the drop in the glass for him to finally take you in, not in the way you wanted, despite that, it was an advance. Shadow felt offended, betrayed by that request, did everything mean nothing to you? He took a step closer, pointing at his chest as he explained, pained behind his eyes. "I had built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat, carved it into the olive tree where we first met. The symbol of our love everlasting." He bitterly laughed, how could it have been so foolish to think you actually wanted him back. "Do you realize what you have asked me? The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots."

"My only husband knew that, so I guess it makes it really you!" You pushed him off as tears fell from your eyes, your expression now matched his. He stopped altogether, his eyes widened, pupils dilating, and finally, his stare held anything other than guilt. You took a few steps forward, ending right in front of him. His aura of apathy had melted into a warmth that called for you, finally understanding your tricks that never failed to work on him.

"I will fall in love again; over and over again. I don't care how, where, or when, No matter how long it's been, You're mine. Don't tell me you're not the same person, you're always my husband and I've been waiting..." Your hands gripped onto the white fur in his chest, despite just pushing him away, you took him back closer to you. Then your head fell onto his shoulder, you couldn't handle it any longer, all the waiting and mourning had caught up to you, you were in pain too, he wasn't the only one, and you had the right to be angry too. The tone of your shaky voice demanded him to understand, that he had the obligation to stay by your side, you owned half of his soul.

Shadows' body stiffened up, all sorts of feelings were invading his body, and the rough treatment he was receiving as the pleads, no, demands his love, confused him deeply. The somber mood was fighting to settle, yet all your words pushed it off, leaving only space for guilt and connection. He wanted to touch you, but he forgot how to, the memories in his subconscious could do so much; the memory wipe he received difficult him most of the interactions he had, but it wasn't such a problem when all he wanted was to destroy and rule everything; he felt a heavy knot of remorse settle in the pit of her stomach because of that.

Waiting

You had proposed to him many times before he sacrificed himself, half joking half serious. You've been doing that the entire time you worked together for Eggman, even Rouge pushed him a little to accept your hand, saying how she'd love to have another excuse to get a nice gem for your ring. He was very annoyed at you at first, repeatedly telling you that the mission was his only focus and he didn't have time to delve into such useless passions. With time, his heart softened up for you, you grounded him; most of the times he took it too far, you'd slap him as a wake-up call, maybe that's the reason it took him so long to do the correct thing; you weren't scared of him, or showing off your emotions; you had made it very clear you found him attractive, not wasting any occasion to make a comment or a pun; you even backed him up in the fight between him and his prototype, shooting from the distance with your sniper, and assisted him to recover from it after it finished.

He had found a couple of Marias things on the space colony, you took the time to comfort him despite not showing any signs that he needed it, you saw right through him. He didn't realize he had accidentally taken a simple piece of jewelry off her table, he told himself it was for nostalgic reasons, it must've been that. Yet, before everything went down, he surprised himself by handing you the ring after you made another comment about getting married when you went back to earth; he remembered the way your eyes shined, and it took you some time to understand what was going on, you suddenly became timid as you accepted, biting your smile while he put the ring in your finger.

I've been waiting

You stared at the broken moon for so many nights, praying that he made it out alive, that you didn't illusion yourself with a promise that didn't even have the time to begin. You found comfort in playing with the ring he gave you, or the dreams of the two of you together. You had fallen hard, didn't you? You told Rogue the stupid promise you made, earning a bitter laugh from her as she called you an idiot for actually going through with it. Both of you bonded with your grievance for him, meeting him and losing him at the same time gave you a mutual understanding of his character that no one else knew. Still, you missed him, you wanted him, not Rouge. You thought life hated you until you heard the news on TV, or the call of Sonic telling you about how he saw Shadow; you took it upon yourself to find him, yet you missed your opportunity every time, always getting too late.

"Waiting... For you..."

He finally held enough courage to pull you into a kiss, your so-desired kiss. His hands cradle your face with such burning passion, never wanting to let go. Both of your mouths moved in the compass of an imaginary rhythm, one you already knew from how many times it had been done. Your hands went to hold his, all your muscles tensed and the air started to lack, nonetheless, you tried pulling him even closer, wanting to just be one in the same, to not be able to conceive the possibility of being apart from one another ever again. It all felt so familiar it broke your heart, both of you were desperate, longing for the other's presence. Your hearts pounding at the same time, a song long lost now found again. It made him remember that everything was alright, he was here with you, and he would slowly remember, so when the kiss broke off naturally, he pressed his forehead against yours with a shaky breath, he no longer wanted to be gone, he just wanted you.

[artdcnaldson]

Can you do arts reaction to reader just not inviting him to her next "dance" because she thought he wasnt interested so she didnt say anything please?

Maybe he saw a picture on myspace or something

Rating: T

Warnings: None really, just angst and Art being heartbroken over losing his best friend

Summary: Spring 2008. Art wishes that he had thought to unfriend you on MySpace.

A/N: ok I’m ngl I saw specific words and ran. The words in question: “Art’s reaction” and “MySpace.” Unedited

MySpace was in its death throes. You had to have been the last active user by that point, happily posting collections of photos like it was your own personal scrapbook.

He didn’t even use it himself, not really. He had when he was sixteen— filled it with pictures of him and Patrick and the shitty music he’d liked. Lately, he’d been logging in just to check on you.

Not often. He wasn’t a creep, or anything. He just wondered, sometimes. He knew you had a boyfriend, or something— you posted cryptically about seeing someone plenty enough. Art just wanted to know who the asshole was— if he knew him, if he deserved you.

Most people had switched to Facebook— including Art. He knew Patrick had an account, but he didn’t feel like adding him, and apparently the sentiment was shared.

That night, he pulled up your MySpace page, decorated in the same pink and green shades as your dorm room. It was a normal routine— look at the music you were listening to, read your blog posts, look at your photos. Casually, of course. This time, though, he froze.

Because he did know the asshole you were with— not hidden behind cryptic posts, no longer shrouded in mystery. Clear as day, in photos you’d taken on your digital camera.

Patrick Zweig.

For once, the brunet was in a nice suit, with a bow tie and everything. The first picture was of him, flipping off the camera with a smile in the middle of a formal dining room. The next few were of both of you sitting on an empty tennis court, drinking champagne straight from the bottle, and sharing cigarettes.

Look who needed a date to a “boring, formal rich people thing” after months of me going to his “boring tennis things” <3

That was all you’d said about the pictures. Art swallowed, opening up the photos to take a closer look. You were wearing pale yellow silk, like moonlight. You posted a close up of you in the dress, of pretty silver jewelry against your skin, then a few scenery shots— flowers, a fountain, the putting green at night.

That was the country club he played at when he was 15 and stayed with Patrick for the summer, the type of place that it was best to be seen and not heard. He knew that Patrick’s family were wealthy before, but that summer had put things in an entirely new perspective.

Patrick hated shit like that— the pomp and circumstance. The Patrick who had been his friend wouldn’t have been caught dead at a… he squinted to read the signage in the background of a photo— Benefit for Children of… whatever, he couldn’t make it out but he knew it was stupid.

It wasn’t Patrick. He knew it wasn’t Patrick even if they hadn’t spoken for a year.

Sometimes he asked himself why that was. Tashi dropped out, transferred to a school closer to her family. Being at Stanford had been too painful, which he understood, but he missed her. They kept in contact, which was good, because he had a suspicion he’d die if she wasn’t somewhere in his orbit.

It wasn’t lost on Art that he’d chosen Tashi over Patrick. He didn’t regret choosing Tashi, but he might regret it more had it not been for that night.

He couldn’t prove that it had been Patrick in your room, but he had a feeling.

It had gnawed at him as he sat on the floor outside of your door, nursing a beer long after you and whoever it was had finished and fallen asleep. He caught the tail end of it, even over the blaring music— the slamming headboard, the pretty noises you made when you got close.

He’d been sexiled enough by Patrick before to feel a twinge of familiarity in the muffled groans on the other side of the door. But it made no sense. Or it made perfect sense, and Patrick rarely did and that’s what made it so hard.

Art had chosen Tashi, Patrick chose what was Art’s. Tied everything in a nice little bow.

He’d been missing him. Of course he missed Patrick, in the same way he craved a cigarette after quitting. He knew it was bad for him, he wanted it anyway.

Or maybe Patrick wasn’t bad for him, and he was the one who cleaved him out of his life with a rough, messy slash. He loved Patrick, but he needed him as much as he needed a burst appendix that was poisoning him from the inside out.

If he thought about Patrick Zweig for too long, he’d get a sick feeling in his stomach, all hollow and achey. He itched to call him, to ask how he’d been, and how the tour had been, and if he was doing okay.

He let the phone ring once, twice before he hung up, feeling like an idiot. There was a thick, strangling feeling in his chest like he might cry, which was stupid.

It was all so stupid, how much he missed Patrick. Patrick, who had you, and a tennis career, and his rich parents who he suddenly wanted to be around. Maybe Patrick was better off, but it didn’t make him feel much better.

His phone buzzed on his bedside table, ripping him violently from his self pity. 

Patrick [1:26 AM]: was that an accident?

Art didn’t respond, even though he wanted to. It was probably for the best.

Sorry I made this mostly about Art missing Patrick instead of Art missing R but … alas it felt true. If I think too hard about the twelve years they spent apart I feel insane.

[tomomiisasleep]

notes on Harryanthe which I am crazy about, in HtN

this dumb little interaction just stuck with me. I mean they're almost always high-strung in the detailed plot, like in almost every one of the Ianthe-centered scenes one of them is in some kind of pain

but I know they have chill moments. mundane moments. petty arguments, like the one in the post scrips of the letter. And I so badly want to read those!!

anyways. I'm gonna start collecting scraps here.

you might have given Ianthe Tridentarius the pleasure of opening the note labelled Upon the death of Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Your only hope for that note was that it contained a single sentence along the lines of, Get what joy you can from my corpse, you devious bitch, but it was written by a previous self and you could not risk a guess.

Harrow: what if I didnt hate her and that makes me wanna have a lobotomy yeah that makes sense

Once, vilely, from Ianthe; she had ensconced you in fat and rolled you down the hallway out of danger, and still laughed whenever she thought about it.

ok this is just Ianthe being a little pest, but it also means that she talks about this and laughs in Harrow's face, which makes her a little bitch, but also like it means they often chat and Ianthe would be like: Yeah today I tried the theorem on apples again, but I tweaked it by directing the flow of thalergy from- hey Harry do u remember the time I saved your life hahahahahaha

The mockery you endured for needing her proximity was exquisitely painful, but humiliation was steadily becoming your existence whole and entire.

I want to know what exactly this mockery entails

It had been very nicely matched to the original until she had ceased using it altogether, and the difference was more pronounced each day. Unconscious of your critical eye, she scratched fretfully at the line until red hives appeared.

Ianthe squirming under Harrow's gaze for once

She was in a filthy mood, if she was wearing that thing, with her arm exposed.

Harrow has been keeping tabs on the state of her arm problem ever since she first woke up on the Erobos. Same as how Ianthe has been keeping tabs on the results of her lobotomy.

she said, blue eyed, those oily little freckles glittering almost pinkly above the dress. They reflected the red rims of her eyelids. You thought that she had been crying.

yeah stare at her eyelids Harrow, and sniff her discreetly all the time, sweat musk vetiver am I right (also have I expressed how crazy it drives me that she wears masculine perfume??????????? no well IT'S SO *faints*

You got better autopsies of her encounters with Beasts than you did from your own, as Augustine was wont to explain significantly more to her than either he or Mercy did to you.

Ugh why why why in this whole book I have not seen them talk shop with each other even once??? Except Harrow showing off after making the arm. Harrow has discussions with Pal all the time in GtN. clearly she trades notes on necromancy with Ianthe frequently. but no, gloss over Ianthe's intellect and just write her freak(fond) moments

You had once been fool enough to recommend that Ianthe take them down, at which point she had rustled up another from the bathroom and hung it in pride of place above an overpainted dresser.

love her

“Oh, heaps,” said Ianthe, who appeared not to have taken offence at your rejection. It was so impossible to tell, with Ianthe. “I made it. It’s vile.”

Maybe she really doesn't care about the rejection or even likes it, but "so impossible to tell" kinda hints that, well she might be hurt,maybe, there just isn't any proof

It was not a connection formed of any mutual admiration; if anything, the more you saw of Ianthe the less likely you were to mistake her for likeable. She made herself like an overdecorated cake: covered so thickly in icing and fondants and gums that it would take serious excavation to find any bread. As a necromancer she was a genius, though you thought she relied too much on shortcuts and circumventions. She had an exceptionally fine mind. She was not afraid of rigour.

If Harrow doesn't have the hots for her at least I do.

Honestly on my first read I took stuff like "not likeable" and "“Tell me to stop breathing,” she said. (“I have, on multiple occasions,” you said.)" at face value and actually thought Harrow genuinely hates her and is forced to interact with her because there's no one else. Which is true. But she's also very attracted to her and I kinda overlooked it at because I thought those feelings were mutually exclusive. And they're not. which I'm obsessed with.

Or she won't think Ianthe's beautiful and note details about how she dresses all the time.

Seriously Harrow's special fixation on "how Ianthe's clothes make her look" is hard to ignore.

for example:

The mother-of-pearl made Ianthe’s hair a lurid yellow and threw up all the mustard tints of her skin; her face was blotchy, and her eyes were sleepless pits. She looked like shit.

The skirts and waists were all beautifully cut for someone of a different height and body type than Ianthe possessed. They were tight where they should have been loose and loose where they should have been tight. They looked like her burial clothes, and she looked as though she had emerged fifty years after that burial.

she answered after a long, scuffling minute, with sleep in her eyes and her hair in dilute whey tangles over her neck and shoulders, wearing a bewildering short garment of violet chiffon.

The back was open, and you could see the fine dents of her spine—her bleached skin bluer and sweeter against the pallid gossamer—and the twin blades of her shoulder blades looked strangely nude and vulnerable to you.

Ianthe was training in her nightgown—a grisly floor-length concoction of pale golden lace that made her long, limber body look like a green-veined mummy

a lone wax figure in pale purple chiffon, tall and colourless—except in the greasy metal of her bone arm, which the lights rendered all the colours of the rainbow.

Ianthe rose soundlessly to her feet, and the long skirts of her nightgown—a brilliant ruffled canary-yellow silk that made her look like a formal lemon—rustled restively around her calves.

Note that Harrow focuses on Ianthe's clothes for how they shape Ianthe's appearance. in contrast:

she ignored your sister, whose pallid eyebrows had shot up so fast and so far that they were in danger of breaking the atmosphere. Mercymorn wore a long slip of peach-coloured silk, and her white Canaanite robe was tucked over her forearms and had slipped entirely off her slender, aggrieved shoulders. She had scraped her hair into a merciless and shining coil at the back of her head, and she had no eyes for either of you.

Obviously Mercy is SUPER HOT here, if Ianthe's reaction means anything. But Harrow only describes her clothing and not how she looks. Same with Augustine's party outfit.

With Ianthe, it's always: she's wearing ..., which makes her look gross. And I did not understand at first but now I know and feel stongly that Harrow is totally into her gross-hotness. well at least I am. the grosser she's described the hotter she is.

[mysteriousl0ser]

FUCK IT, TADC EP 2 THOUGHTS MAJOR SPOILERS!! BE WARNED

LETS GO!! Pomni is still pretty screwed up over her first day here, I mean this is all fresh and new to her so like DUH. everyone else here is somewhat or entirely adjusted and kind of just cope with the fact that theyre here I dont think pomni has really processed how long theyve been here?? In the pilot she seems SO bothered by how okay they are with this and willingness to do caines fuckass adventures

i dont blame her, anywho pomni in her nightmare-induced state starts to abstract, she had to face an abstraction early on in her days here which like have to be pretty truamatizing (duh) and cried out to ANYONE, but where she called for help literally no one helped her “oh well” they though

Pomni doesn't feel like anybody else cares, shes the only one whos still going through an adjustment phase and freaking the fuck out while everyone else is just going along with the adventure, something she still thinks is kinda pointless and doesn't get why anybody would waste their time here doing when they COULD be looking for a way out, why is she the only one who seems to still be distressed here? To feel lost? At least from her perspective, it seems that way. Unfortunately, these people have already been here for a while.

Pomski then meets someone whos just like her, their whole reality was shattered and they don't belong anywhere, mirroring how pomni feels at the moment, even if she still has some sort of grip now vs when she first got here

And she finds comfort in that!!! Why is it that this NPC feels more real than the ACTUAL REAL PEOPLE trapped here with her??? Whatever the reason, its something to hold onto. Something to LATCH onto. Hes Real. or at least he feels real, and maybe she feels like she belongs with him because at least he knows the feeling, something shes not really felt w anyone else before

This comfort and solidarity she has with gumigoo is shortlived however as she gets brutally reminded that he wasnt real. The anchor she had vanished and there's quite literally nobody to catch her fall.

And i feel like ragatha trying to comfort her the way she did didnt help AT ALL. it was kinda a sore reminder that gumigoo is easily replaceable, and GOD thats so frustrating?? This thing felt so real to her and nobody seems to care that he just vanished!! If they could be so apathetic to this whos to say they wont just treat her demise just the same as she thought they would???

But then something important happens. They have a funeral for Kaufmo, someone whos been established to be their friend way before Pomni ever came here. And maybe it didn't ever settle in before that kaufmo was a real person! Literally!! And he was real to them. Just like gumigoo though less directly they relate to being in pain and kind of in shock of losing someone who they cared about and who was a real person to care about to them AND LIKE YOU CAN SEE WHERE IT CLICKS IN HER FACIAL EXPRESSION HERE, THE CHANGE IN HER EYES AND THE WAY HER EXPRESSION LOSENS AT THIS IDK IT DRIVES ME CRAZY GOD THE ANIMATORS WENT OFF W THIS EP VS THE PILOT IM IM IM

anyways anyways They have their funeral service, theres quite literally no reason for anyone to just lie and go along with whatever bs caines got going on, this also quite literally has nothing to do with him. This is kind of their own little way of keeping some sort of human traditions and respect for the human persons that get stuck here because they care. HELL you can even see pomni feel a little guilty here when ragatha says that his funeral was disrupted cause she arrived here

anyways thats exactly it!! They fucking car!! This whole time pomni thought that they just didnt care and were kind of apathetic or downright patronizing her over all this and mocking her or whatnot, like in her dream sequence. But no, they all talk respectively about their memories and experiences with kaufmo, the things they shared together and the feelings they had. EVERYBODY was grieving. Ragatha who always tried to put on some cheerful and kind of irritating (to pomni at least) everythings fine facade (which also kind of feels less real to her at least i think so but i don't think she figured it to be a coping mechanism) to just straight up start crying and breaking up a bit, even mentioning how this does not ever get any easier and how shes had to deal with this plenty of times before.

Zooble the usually apathetic and kind of asshole who keeps to themselves and gives off i don't care energy and probably gave off the impression that they didn't care about anyone here and just treated the people stuck here as an unfortunate fact and nothing more actually being vulnerable and probably doing the same as ragatha talking about their memories with kaufmo

Kingers ALWAYS kind of zoned out or not really taking anything seriously and just being there completely lost in space, but here hes grounded, and even earlier in the episode when ragatha needed it most he remained grounded then too (tho pomni didnt see that i just wanted to mention it). Just like the others he grieves and lives in the unfortunate moment

more of the kinger being grounded when the thought counts

GANGLE- dude even if its for just a moment she smiles here despite having her tragedy mask and like her whole shtick is being of whatever mood or emotion her mask is allegedly wether she wants to or not, but no here shes more than just that, she smiles for a bit when reminiscing her moments with kaufmo only to go back into crying, and man shes always crying with her tragedy mask but its beyond as far as anyone can tell wether or not its really her or just because of her mask, but here? its really her, no matter what the mask on her face shows!! shes genuinely smiling despite having her comedy mask and shes genuinely crying which is very blatantly obviously different to the usual mask cry etc etc

heres something about all this, it hits pomni in a way. These people ARE real, and they care. They care about her, they have nothing else but eachother and THATS something to latch onto. Thats something to hold her down, even if they just met pomni

SPEAKING OF JUST MEETING POMNI she literally expressed how she didnt wanna just LEAVE gumigoo there by himself because she believes no one should just be left there

the circus peeps just met pomni and just like how she felt a real connection to gumigoo in this digital hell she feels a sort of connection with these people too. Theyre gonna have her back all the same, maybe she wont feel so out of place and alone. BONUS THING!! The literal only times she genuinely smiles is when she feels this real connection to what feels real to her and has a genuine and sincere moment with these people whether it be an npc or a trapped member. Idk it just means something to me how significant both these moments are tipped off with a genuine smile a REAL SMIE!! (id add pictures but tumblr has a 30 image limit) OH ALSO BONUS BONUS THING THE DIFFERENCE IN OUTRO MUSIC IS SO IS SO ITS SO the outro song for the pilot kinda feels so ethereal and out of the moment at least to me it kinda feels like it you're slipping through the cracks and just, existing within yourself as the rest of the world around you kind of shatters into glass or melts into water or something i dont think ANY of that made any sense but its loud and its blaring and its so out of reach in a way, mad disassociation vibes but the outro song for the 2nd ep is a lot quieter yet its right there, at first it starts really small, lonely even. trapped by yourself but as the music gets louder and more instruments join in on the song it kind of has a comforting feel? bittersweet? even? its grounding ina way which is much different from how the first one felt at least to me lmao and the comforting feel kinda only emphasizes what I was talking about earlier- the comfort in having that anchor of reality with having a real moment with these people and making that connection yk? and like as i was saying at first the song starts off with just one instrument, at the start of the episode pomni feels utter alone and out of place even if these people here with here are stuck in the same situation as her, together alone. but as the other instruments join. in it kinda uplifts the song a bit, its not one sole instrument anymore like how in the end pomni feels that connection with everyone else, not so alone anymore idk jackshit about music theory so this is entirely a feelies talk instead of like- music lore? so don't take anything i say as like- idk some professional speak im just a nerd nerding about silly digital fixations ANYWAYS THATS ALL FOR NOW I AVE MORE TO SAY BUT THIS IS LONG ENOUGH LOL if you actually read all the way down this far thank you for listening!!! i really really appreciate it :]

[kinzhae]

Hi hiiii! Okay so... I'm not quite sure if you accept like request and all but i enjoyed your vlog so much cause been craving for Gojo angst that hurts my heart and i love it 😭😭

And i have this idea... You know Toga Himiko right? So like i have this idea in mind where Gojo neglected the reader, like the bully fic you made? And so, in the end Gojo was like dyin (In his teens where he still didn't know RCT). Reader having the same power as Toga Himiko so yeah you know what happens next.

That episode ached my heart so much that i cried and i kinda wanna see it in Gojo x reader part. You don't have to make it just sayin my idea and all 😅

Omgg hello, you are actually the first person who requested to write something so ofc I will do it. I didnt continue watching MHA after season 2 so I might not capture Toga Himiko's quirk that well </3 but I still tried and hoping you will like it.

Note: it ended with a slight angst.

Past Wound That Will Never Change

The world had always been cruel to those who were different, and you learned that lesson early. Your cursed technique was rare, one that made people uneasy. By consuming the blood of others, you could take on their appearance and, to a degree, their abilities. It was powerful, yes, but it was also isolating. People whispered behind your back, called you a parasite, and avoided you like a curse waiting to manifest.

Gojo Satoru, of course, had been the worst of them all.

He wasn’t just cruel; he was relentless. With his unmatched abilities and natural charisma, he had no reason to think twice about how his words or actions might hurt you. To him, you were a joke, a walking anomaly he could poke fun at when life at Jujutsu High grew dull.

“You ever think about how creepy you are?” he’d say, his friends laughing along. “Like, do you just look at someone and think, ‘Wow, I wanna drink their blood’? That’s disgusting, man.”

The words stung every time. You tried to fight back, to pretend his insults didn’t matter, but he had a way of cutting deeper than anyone else. The more you tried to stand your ground, the more he mocked you.

“You’re not even a real sorcerer,” he said once, his voice dripping with disdain. “You just leech off of everyone else. What’s the point of keeping you around?”

No one defended you. Geto sometimes gave you a pitying glance, but even he didn’t dare go against Gojo. They were close friends after all. You were utterly alone, and every day felt like a battle you were losing.

It all came to a head during a mission gone wrong. You’d been sent out with Gojo and another student to exorcise a particularly nasty curse. Things had been going well until Gojo, confident as ever, underestimated the enemy. The curse turned its attention on you, nearly killing you in the process. You barely managed to survive, but when the dust settled, Gojo shrugged it off like it was nothing.

“You’re fine,” he said, his tone dismissive. “Stop being so dramatic.”

That was the moment something inside you broke. That night, you packed your things and left Jujutsu High without a word. If they thought you were a parasite, then so be it. You would survive on your own terms, far away from their judgmental eyes.

---

Years passed, and you became someone entirely different. The pain of your past hardened into a cold resolve. You used your cursed technique without restraint, earning a reputation as a rogue sorcerer. People feared you, and for the first time in your life, you felt powerful. You no longer cared about proving yourself to anyone. You lived by your own rules, taking what you needed and leaving destruction in your wake.

But fate had a twisted sense of humor.

You found him in the ruins of a cursed battlefield, slumped against a crumbling wall, his once-pristine uniform soaked with blood. Gojo Satoru, the untouchable, was dying.

He looked up at you with bleary eyes, his usual confidence replaced by something fragile.

“Figures,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “Of all people… it had to be you.”

You stared at him, your emotions a tangled mess of anger, bitterness, and something you didn’t want to name. He looked so different now—vulnerable in a way you’d never imagined. For a brief moment, you considered leaving him there. It would be poetic, wouldn’t it? Letting him die alone, just like he’d left you to fend for yourself all those years ago.

But you couldn’t do it.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said coldly, kneeling beside him. “I’m not doing this for you.

He didn’t respond, too weak to argue. His blood pooled around him, staining the ground a deep crimson. You bit into your hand, drawing your own blood, and then leaned down to press your lips to his wound. The metallic taste filled your mouth as your cursed technique activated, his power flooding into you.

It was overwhelming. For a brief moment, you were the strongest, the infinite possibilities of his Limitless technique unfurling in your mind. You used it to heal his wounds, channeling his power with a precision that surprised even you. When it was done, you pulled away, wiping your mouth as you staggered to your feet.

Gojo sat up slowly, testing his limbs. He looked at you, his expression unreadable.

“You saved me,” he said quietly.

“Don’t read into it,” you snapped. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

He frowned, guilt flickering across his face. “Why? After everything I—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “You don’t get to apologize. Not after what you did.”

He fell silent, his usual arrogance nowhere to be found. For once, he looked small, almost fragile.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was a fool back then. I didn’t—”

“Stop,” you said, your tone icy. “I don’t want your apology. I don’t need it. Just live with it, Gojo. Live with what you did.”

You turned and walked away, leaving him sitting there, his words hanging in the air. He didn’t try to stop you. He didn’t call after you. He simply watched as you disappeared into the distance, the weight of his guilt settling over him like a shroud.

---

Gojo recovered, but the encounter haunted him. He searched for you, hoping for a chance to make amends, but you were always one step ahead, always out of reach. The guilt of what he had done to you lingered, a constant reminder of his failures. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t fix what he had broken.

You, on the other hand, continued to live on your own terms. Saving him hadn’t changed anything. It hadn’t softened the bitterness in your heart or erased the scars he left behind. You didn’t forgive him, and you didn’t need to.

In the end, the past was a wound neither of you could heal. He was left to carry the weight of his guilt, while you carried the scars of his cruelty.