#i try to be nice but i hated this

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Kiss Kiss Fallen Tree!

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[chiyana]

this is the stupidest crossover possible but I want Tim to make House his doctor

yes that House

why? He needs someone who is very good, will not give up or send Tim out to a different specialist just because his medical condition is difficult, will not be overly concerned about the danger Tim puts himself in, and will lie on Tim's medical records AND to Batman/Bruce Wayne/all of the Bats without hesitation or fear.

House is and will do all of those things without hesitation. He has no shame, no boundaries, he WILL get into a public fight with Bruce Wayne if it means keeping that man out of his patient's (and House's) business. He will help Tim lie to and gaslight the rest of his family without hesitation.

in exchange, Tim is his favorite patient. Not because they get along, necessarily, Tim is a know-it-all little shit and they constantly bicker and House hates how practically every facet of Tim's existence is a lie (and Tim thinks House is a smug know-it-all jackass who is needlessly cruel and callous bc he thinks the world owes him and never delivers just bc he's in pain, news flash a lot of people are in pain and manage not to be assholes) BUT, 1, Tim brings him really interesting cases and problems, and 2, Tim NEVER lies to House about his medical conditions or what he was doing when they happened.

He lies about literally almost everything else under the sun TO everyone else, but he is 100% completely upfront and honest about his medical history and what is going on with him with House.

admittedly it takes a while for House to realize Tim ISN'T lying to him because some of the shit he says is completely insane ("the vigilante thing is pretty obvious but what do you MEAN you got the Apocalypse virus TWICE, AND SURVIVED, AS A FOURTEEN-FIFTEEN YEAR OLD")

but once he realizes Tim doesn't ever lie to him, he becomes House's favorite patient because at least TIM gives him all of the data he needs as best he's able the moment he asks. At least House doesn't have to waste his time following up on bogus information or figuring out the truth, he can just get right into the meat of the medical issue at hand.

also it's so fun to lie directly to Batman's face, know the man knows, and know he can't do anything about it

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Marvel Meow (2021), Nao Fuji | Professor X and Magneto

Bonus:

[waitineedaname]

i love remembering that binghe being a good cook was a detail from pidw, like that's not just bingmei being a housewife, that's something bingge does too. i think the next bingge vs. bingmei incident should involve them cooking together and experiencing the rage of Someone Else In The Kitchen

[dblsoul]

stay like this forever

[borderlinereminders]

You have no idea what anyone else is going through.

People could be crying themselves to sleep, struggling to hold it together, and barely making it by.

When they open that anon hate, they may delete it and try to brush it off. They may post it with a nonchalant response. But there is a very real chance they see that and they feel it.

Quit hiding behind anon to send asks that could be hurting people. Does it honestly make you feel good to do that?

You know what people should do instead?

Send anonymous love. If you have the spoons, please take a moment to send a blog you like (or multiple blogs!) some anonymous love. Help drown out the hate.

[larkoneironaut]

Bellara has a few very important questions for you

[akirathedramaqueen]

The bias is not always conscious

And that's the case with Stolas. That's it, that's basically the post, so you can count it as your tl;dr, but let me elaborate. :)

(A little gratitude note! Sorry @tealvenetianmask, I failed being concise here, but I thank you for encouraging me to put it all together :3 I also thank you for our conversations about Stolas and about museums in particular which heavily contributed to it)

I think there's some misunderstanding when people get offended by the suggestion that Stolas acts classist/racist. It seems that people assume we’re implying he is malicious and intentional with it, but the actual problem is that he doesn't think.

S2EP2, Seeing Stars, 1:29

The problematic behavior we're discussing is reflexive and internalized. Stolas was raised in an environment where the lower demon class is looked down upon, and while he believes he expresses nothing but deep respect for Blitzø and treats him as an equal…

Goodnight, Blitzø. S1EP7, Ozzie's, 14:50

And while you can see from this bow that this intention is sincere, which is both wonderful and fascinating—he preserved this profound gesture ever since he was a kid, despite being actively discouraged from doing so!...

[Stolas]: I'm Stolas! It's nice... Ouch! [Paimon]: Don't bow to that one! He bows to us! Idiot! S2EP1, The Circus, 7:40

He was still raised in privilege and influenced by the narratives around him. For him, it's acceptable because that's what he was taught is fine. It's part of his everyday speech, and he never actually asks Blitzø, or anyone else, how they feel about the literally belittling nicknames (like literally—do you notice how often he uses the word "little" when referring to imps?).

I mean... there's a lot, okay? I'm just going to pull out some examples off the top of my head. All of them are from Season 1, and I'll explain why later.

I was hoping you brave little imps would accompany us! S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 5:15

Ugh, that's better... Where's Blitzy? He's my knight in shining armor, not you, littler ones! S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 13:22

And it [grimoire] isn't supposed to be lent out to itty-bitty imps like yourself. S1EP5, The Harvest Moon Festival, 0:30

Greetings, tiny Wrath Ring imps! S1EP5, The Harvest Moon Festival, 8:22

[Stolas, in the background]: Who dares threaten my little impish plaything? S1EP6, Truth Seekers, 18:20

How the fuck did you get caught by humans? Are you little creatures not being careful up here? S1EP6, Truth Seekers, 19:38

He also takes pride in being part of Ars Goetia. That pride seeps into his mind whether he wants it to or not. He lives in a huge palace, never worries about money, can arrange a seat in a club that’s always booked out, and gets admitted to a hospital immediately, while hellhounds wait five years for a Hellbies shot.

Being part of the Goetia family is rather valuable, you know. S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 4:39

Most of these examples come from Season 1 because, after the disastrous Ozzie’s date, Stolas begins to unconsciously cut back on this language. He seems to sense that something is wrong, though he doesn’t fully understand why. However, he is acutely aware of the problems with the transaction and the unfair dynamics it creates, and he is serious about putting Blitzø on equal ground by providing him with the means to run his business independently of Stolas.

And still, he maintains full control over the conversation during the Full Moon meeting, immediately dismisses Blitzø after one mistake, and throws him out. He continues to impose his narrative on Blitzø and…

I don't look down on you! How many times do I— When have I ever?! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 2:45

When have you ever indeed, Stolas? You literally look down on Blitzø saying that. This moment illustrates the problem clearly. He isn’t lying when he says he doesn’t look down on Blitzø because he genuinely believes he doesn’t.

Despite all said, Stolas is making a tremendous effort and is progressing, and he is far ahead of Stella, who is openly classist/racist and very conscious of her biases. So I believe—no, I know—he will get there one day. But not today.

This is something I take quite seriously, and I think people need to understand how dangerous this subtlety can be, as it happens all the time in real life too.

How often do you ask yourself why medical research groups are predominantly represented by white, cis, upper-middle-class males, and how this affects the efficiency of treatments suggested in these studies for everyone else—women, people of color, non-binary folks, and those who struggle financially?

How often do you visit museums and see art created by wealthy aristocrats who defined what constitutes 'fine art,' while 'folk art'—often created by marginalized communities—is overlooked and lost to time?

I could elaborate further on how deep and cruel this bias is, but I’ll stop here. I just ask you to consider why you might get offended when someone points out Stolas's subtle bigotry and why you might downplay it compared to the loud, aggressive Blitzø, whose anger and avoidant issues are obvious.

Just sit with it.

[justaz]

sometime during season 2 merlin realizes how dense camelot is. he’s been accused and even confessed to sorcery multiple times and no one has believed him. even when aredian accused him of sorcery, uther was hesitant to execute him. UTHER was HESITANT to execute him after being accused of SORCERY. merlin gets accused of sorcery bc people think he’s put them under a love spell. he’s gone to arthur at the darkest of times and whispered how he could perform a spell to save everyone and arthur bites back that its not the time for jokes.

merlin realizing how stupid everyone is. he tests it a few times: he gives gwen a bouquet of flowers and tells her he conjured them with magic, she just laughs and thanks him for the flowers, mumbling about how funny and ridiculous he is; he joins the servants in their ranting over their jobs and says that he has a trick up his sleeve to complete his job…magic!! they ohh and ahh sarcastically and mutter how much easier their jobs would be if any of them actually could do magic; he tells leon straight up that he’s planning on killing uther with magic, leon just laughs, pats his back, and wishes him luck.

the whole city is so fucking stupid!!! merlin tests his luck further and blatantly commits acts of magic in front of people and they’re just like “:o how odd…oh well” and go about their day. someone comments on merlin’s eyes going gold and he’s just like “mmmmyeah my eyes just do that in the sun sometimes” and NO ONE questions it. he notices how people go out of their way to help him and they slip him things for free or just as gifts. he notices how much he gets away with with arthur and morgana and even uther. merlin spills a bit of wine and uther goes “i will never understand why my son insists on keeping you around” and merlin smirks and goes “i put a spell on him” and uther throws his head back in laughter

merlin doesn’t perform obvious acts of magic, he doesn’t yell out in the old tongue in front of anyone or whatever, but he gets away with magic so much and he knows that no one will ever truly suspect him or accuse him anymore (and if he is accused then it wont go anywhere, uther will just roll his eyes and wave away the accusation) so he just stops giving a fuck. he ends up helping morgana with her magic and is like “yeah this kingdom is so fucking stupid i wouldn’t even worry about it girl”

[def-not-kaz-brekker]

I hate it when people don’t take aromanticism seriously. I hate it when they say “oh it’s just a phase I also thought I was aromantic but then I got a partner.” It doesn’t apply to everyone.

Respect aromanticism as you would respect any other identity

[hijinxinprogress]

12 year old tim realizing robin’s not coming back to gotham and deciding that it’s Batman’s fault so he has to ruin the little bit of sanity and peace of mind Bruce has managed (read: struggled) to keep in his grasp:

[youngpettyqueen]

I know the decision to have Julian's parents have him augmented was made on the fly but imo its pretty obvious from early on that Julian has Family Issues because he avoids talking about his family like the plague and I think they should've incorporated this into the Julian and Sisko dynamic right from early on because I think it would've made for some really compelling stories and moments and could've set up a REALLY interesting Julian and Jake dynamic which they kinda started to do but never fully went for

[neon-ufo]

It's true the world is ugly But everything could change, someday

Song for April: Someday by Cub

~~~ Last month's wobbly little animation made me want to try actually animating again! I also wanted to do something with an old game vibe for the background, so I used photos to get that effect. <:

[ladyhorrors]

mouthwashing fans you are getting Awfully ableist when you say curly deserved what happened to him like he wasn't severely disabled by someone who he had faith in trust in and had known for a LONG time so he had likely had gotten accommodated to the way jimmy treated him, (see; his literal BIRTHDAY) and hadn't realized that when he said he was going to fix things, it'd result in the crash. curly also seems like a constant victim of jimmy, and tries to fawn him when it comes to his behavior. PLUS i think the event of the crash was only a day apart from anya telling curly. so of course he wouldn't suddenly be aware of something so drastic happening so soon.

i've always seen curly as trying to be the mediator. trying to do damage control, because jimmy can be highly manic and extremely violent, as we've seen! it's understandable why he wouldn't take immediate action (even though he could've done something to help anya.) it's a lose-lose situation. everytime someone says "swansea would've done something!" it makes no sense to me because he *was* told. and he left dealing with it all extremely late.

not only that, but they're in the middle of space??? the cryo pods are emergency resources, and the only places with locks are the medical room and i think the cockpit. they're on the ship for 8 months. they're not expected to come back to earth and their being in space couldn't just be discontinued.

it is a dismal situation within mouthwashing and i feel like curly was one of the most realistically written characters, despite his faults. calling him a rapist apologist, saying he deserved what happened to him in the end isn't okay. curly was to me, a good person with good intentions that inherently became bad as time went on. i really think we should consider the level of helpless the crew actually had and start blaming pony express for not having ways to deal with such a situation. jimmy was also the co-pilot, horrible person or not they NEEDED him to fly the ship in case anything went wrong. obviously he goes on to abuse that.

[elsecrytt]

Kinktober Day 5

Prostate Massage | Blindfold | Cages

Pairing: Satoru Gojo X Reader

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, yandere/controlling behavior, drugging, captivity, panic attack

He’s missing again.

This is more surprising than one might think – Gojo, for all his whimsical tendencies, doesn’t typically slack on exorcizing curses.

It’s why they think he’s just going off the grid for a bit to take care of some other business – goodness knows he drags in enough sorcerer children to the school.

But it’s been a while, and no one’s heard from him.

If he had meant to defect, he would surely have done it when Suguru Geto was still alive. So this must be another fit of arrogance, running off and doing whatever he pleased. It was annoying, but who could stop him? He was, after all, the strongest sorcerer in the world.

Certainly, no one was expecting to find Satoru Gojo in a cage inside your basement.

You’re not a sorcerer, after all. No one Satoru knew or had ever known would even know your name, much less where you live and that Satoru was with you.

You don’t even bother visiting him for the first few days. There’d be no point. He’d try to convince you this was a bad idea (it probably was) and to let him go (you absolutely could not, not under any circumstances). He probably wouldn’t lie – you never thought him to be the type, even if his life were truly on the line – but nothing he said would be of any use to you.

He’d already said enough when under the influence of those helpful substances you slipped him. You’d gone through a few before you found one that made him pliable enough to repeat the words you needed.

A binding vow. One that would keep him here, and keep him tame, for as long as you wanted.

Oh, you’re sure he was terribly confused for those first few days. Wondering what kind of curse or curse technique had him trapped in there. Poor baby was probably bored to death, too, if anything you knew about him was correct.

But it would take a while to get to him, to get him to the place he needed to be. And you had all the time you needed.

After all, good things come to those who wait.

You open the door, a thrill in your heart at the thought of just how excited Satoru Gojo is going to be to see you.

The worst part is, you’re right.

Satoru’s been stuck in here for three days now. He is, frankly, bored. Worse than bored. He’s sort of going insane.

It’s not like he needs to use the restroom, or even eat. Sorcerers – anyone who could use reverse curse technique, really – had ways to suspend bodily functions and stuff like that, for use on long missions, in extreme environments, or domains with weird effects.

So, no. He’s not hungry, or thirsty, he doesn’t need to use the restroom. That’ll catch up with him eventually, of course, but it’s not a problem right now.

The problem right now is that someone was powerful enough to trap him in here, had some weird power that stopped him from escaping, but they just. Left him.

All. Alone. In the dark. Even with the six eyes, it was dark in here. He can tell where the door is, but the light level is far beneath what a normal human could see. There’s almost no sound. No cursed energy at all. Nothing interesting in the room to stare at, nothing moving.

It was a weird, surreal sort of experience, for about ten minutes. Hard to tell even how much time was passing. Just the sound of his breath and the thoughts knocking around in his head. He didn’t get time like this often, didn’t just sit down and think. It cleared his head in a strange way – no more migraines, no more constant analyses from his six eyes, no more reverse curse technique constantly healing his brain.

Like taking off a weight he hadn’t noticed was there to begin with. He felt lighter, so many physical demands suddenly lifted from his body. A breath of fresh air.

Fresh air got old pretty fast, when most of his thoughts kept coalescing on Why can’t I use my curse technique and What the hell is going on? At first, there was even fear, too – he wasn’t totally crazy – but after that?

This is just boring. He’s never been so bored in his entire life. His brain feels like it’s rattling in his skull, waiting to drop out the next time he tilts his head. Satoru is about ready to start banging it against the bars just to have something to listen to.

So when you open the door, light suddenly flooding in from a crack (it’s bright enough to make him wince, with his eyes), Satoru Gojo is entirely focused on you, in an instant. Taking in every single detail about your body, your voice, your cursed energy and cadence.

It’s amazing, how much you can learn when you pay attention.

He learns that you’re not a sorcerer. That he’s not kept here by any curse technique or tool – rather, it’s by a binding vow. One that only you can release. You’d drugged him through his infinity using a knockout gas and gotten his half-conscious self to repeat specific words to make the vow.

He learns you think you’re doing this to help him, save him.

“I just don’t think you’re that strong. I mean, it was easy enough for me to get you like this, right? And I’m not a sorcerer at all.”

His eyes are fixed on you like shattered sapphires. You’re insane – you must be – but it isn’t every day some insane person manages to get one over on him.

Maybe the reason you were able to get this far with him was because you were so crazy.

“For your whole life, you’ve had to be strong.” Your eyes soften; he can discern your features on a microscopic level, the tiny flecks of warmth and concern, “But you aren’t. And you don’t have to try anymore. I’ll protect you.”

Something weird twists in his guts.

There’s lots of kinds of crazy in Jujutsu sorcerer. He’s no stranger to it. But this kind of crazy? He’s never seen it before.

Love is the most twisted curse of them all.

And that is what you tell him, that you love him. You continue by telling him all sorts of funny things – that you’re taking care of him now, getting him back on track, this is for his own good, yada yada.

It’s definitely crazy person speak, but it’s new and refreshing that it’s directed towards him. And maybe because it’s so novel and fun, he goes ahead and sits back and enjoys it.

Like, he tries to tell you he’s important. People to protect, students to teach, all that stuff. You just dismiss him, tell him he’s weak, tell him he doesn’t know what’s best for him. He wasn’t meant for sorcery – his life will be better, now.

(Somewhere in the back of his head, he realizes with a belated horror, that this is what he sounds like to other people.)

 It’s funny, though, it is. He laughs at you (you smile, though, because you’re delusional like that, even if you can tell he’s mocking you), at the thought that he could be meant for anything but sorcery.

And hey, it’s not like he’s got anywhere to be. Anywhere he can be. He’ll give it a try.

Although it’s not so much a try as endure the very carefully calculated daily plans you lay out for him. You’ve got a lot of free time – probably some work-from-home position – and a lot of money, too.

(Great taste in body wash also. Amber and honeysuckle or something. He’ll have to remember it when he gets out of here.)

The room he’s in is special in that it’s painted a gentle off-white color, and sparsely decorated. His little cage is large enough to fit him just sitting down, tall as he is, and it’s large enough for a cot in the corner. It’s kind of cozy, he’ll admit, in a camping kind of way.

When you send him to bed – yes, like an actual child – he finds out the cot is a lot softer than he’d expected, some kind of memory foam he’s never tried. The sheets are extra cooling, the pillow feels like a dream, the room is pitch black and chilly. It only takes him a few minutes of moody contemplation to start drifting off after he lays down.

Sleep training, you’d called it. Satoru’s pretty sure he’d be offended if he actually knew what it was.

“You have your healing powers, sure,” (when he’d interrupted you to tell you it was reverse curse technique you’d paused and waited out his explanation like a champ), “But there’s no substitute for a good eight hours of sleep, Satoru.”

Your voice is stern and laden with something he can’t quite get, but it doesn’t matter anyways. He’ll be out soon.

It’s interesting, lying down inside the cage. This room is so small. It’s all fitted just for him, perfectly sized to leave neither empty space nor squeeze him too tight. His world is reduced to this cage and the things you choose to put in it.

He’s quick to complain about the boredom, but you don’t mind his whining. You actually hook up several game consoles to a small TV set carefully placed at head height for him, sitting up, with controllers you hand him through the bars.

“I’ll have to limit your screen time – it’s not good for your eyes. It’s probably even worse for the six eyes. So I’ve got a collection of books here, and an e-reader, so you can get anything you want. Oh! I’ve also brought some puzzles.”

Yaaawwwn. You don’t even flinch at his exaggerated expression of boredom, promising instead to find more complex puzzles online to entertain him. Rubik’s cubes, jigsaws – these things bored him. He put everything together right away.

You find a puzzle made in braille, one that has to be put together by touch. Brain teasers that required out-of-the-box thinking… you’d even brought him a jigsaw puzzle with a mixed up image printed on it, one that couldn’t be put together by the visuals at all. He had to hand it to you, that was neat.

There’s almost an amusement in watching how diligent you are about finding things to entertain him with. The video games, the books, the puzzles, some TV, too. He’s half worried that you stole his collection of movies, but it turns out you just have some streaming services. It’s fun enough to kill time. Human Earthworm 4 really was garbage.

You laugh when he tells you so. Your defense of the dumb movie is that it was half-parody (you are correct), and he tells you with a sniff that you have no taste, and you laugh, and his stomach feels funny.

Clearly the isolation is getting to him, if you feel like decent company.

He takes meals with you, too, and you’re particular about them. No more mochi for breakfast and dinner, no more coffee at all actually – “It’ll interfere with your rest,” – instead, you make him eat ‘real food’.

Complete, home-cooked, admittedly delicious meals. They’re all way more palatable than most things he eats, all foods he likes, he ends up liking… at first he didn’t want to try, but you’d dangled so many sweet looking deserts over his head – specially made mochi, fresh souffles and macarons, carefully crafted crystal candies.

Ugh, you know way too much about him. And you look so pleased with yourself, too. He wonders if you make them yourself – so he asks, and watches your face blush lightly, watches you smile, eyes softening as you look at him in that way he doesn’t get.

Isolation. It’s getting to him. Definitely.

“And of course, I’ll be here to allow you socialization time. We could play games together, or if you want, we could read the same books? Or just talk, if you like. I’m not letting you out, but I’d be happy to hear about your life from before, your likes and dislikes. You can make requests, too!”

Normally he’d be all like “No way, creepy kidnapper,” seriously. But to be honest, he’s kind of looking forward to a chance to pick your brain.

You seem all too happy to oblige. Delighted that he’s taking an interest in you, which is kinda cute and pathetic, since it’s totally not what’s happening. He just wants to know how the hell you got to be so fucking weird.

“I think love makes us all a little crazy, don’t you? As for why I love you, Satoru… well. I couldn’t pick only one reason. Suffice to say, I’m really happy to be talking to you now. It probably sounds weird to you, but being around you just these past few days has been awesome for me. Being around you just brings me so much joy. I want to make it good for you, too!”

Yeah, to be honest, it’s really weird how accommodating you are. You let him out for bathroom breaks at regular intervals – he’s still not sure why you put him in the cage at all –

“Oh, the cage? That’s for your benefit, not mine. Obviously this room is locked. But I think you… it’s difficult to explain. But your awareness of the space around you is warped somehow. I constantly see you nap in awkward places, sit or lean in positions that would stress your body out, zone out from your surroundings. I think it’s important to reset your senses.”

It’s creepy at this point. Or it would be, if it hadn’t blown wayyy past that part.

He likes that you don’t press him much. You just confess your love and go on about your day. No expectations, no freak outs. You’re crazy but you’re obviously not so crazy you think he loves you back. You just think you’re trying to do the right thing by him, which is like, really sweet, in a super weird and demented way.

Satoru had already decided that he doesn’t want to go after you once he gets out of here. You’re not malevolent, even if some distant part of his mind knows that people are dying while he’s chilling out in here.

No, you’re just lonely, and you’ve somehow attached yourself to him with this completely delusional idea that you understand him on a deeper level, and you wanted to protect him. Wasn’t that sweet? The cutest thing?

He can’t really bring himself to be mad at you. Not when you’re probably the only person on earth who’s ever thought this about him, who tried to do something about it. And it’s a damn good try, he’ll give you that.

The cage really isn’t that small. It’s comfortable in here, actually, it’s nice. It’s simple and easy in a way that would be boring if you didn’t give him company, entertainment, meals. The bed is so easy to fall asleep in, he has more energy waking up, he’s happier,

He gets where you’re coming from. You’re still totally insane, of course, but he sees the idea behind it. It’s not the space that he’s in. It’s what’s happening in that space.

It’s his time. And you seem to have so many ways to occupy it.

He starts thinking about you more and more. It gets weirder. He runs into you fresh out of the shower, no clothes on, watches the blush on your face and feels himself –

No. No, no no. It’s not a big deal. It’s whatever. He knew you were crushing on him. You’d made absolutely no secret of your feelings, and he knows the attraction is there, he can tell.

So maybe he sneaks in a hand job or two during these lonely nights. Purely for fun. It’s your fault for not stimulating him enough!

Are you watching on camera? That’s what all the stalkers do. You’re totally a stalker, you know way too much about him. You have all his skincare, shampoo, and conditioner in the bathroom.

You’re totally watching him. He licks his lips while he jerks himself. If he listens hard enough he can hear your breath in the other room.

(Turns out you’re all the way down the hall, but he’s got the six eyes, not the six ears.)

He could put on a show for you, even. His dick gets harder at the thought. He wonders if you’ve thought about this. If you watch him in the cage touching himself. If you want to be in here with him. In the room, or in the cage.

Would you want to touch? The thought absolutely tickles him, has him twitching in his hands, licking his lips. Would you want him so badly? You’re so dedicated, so diligent about his welfare. He could just imagine your pretty lips opening right up, how hot and wet your mouth would be, how those eyes of yours would look at him, always so full of care and affection.

Your hair looks soft, silky even – what would it feel like in his hands? Are you so crazy for him you’d let him fuck your face, or would you guide him through it, like you guide him through everything?

A pulse, another pulse, throbbing in his fist. Your hands would be smaller, softer. What would they feel like on his bare skin? He’s gotten more skin-to-skin contact these paste few weeks than the past ten years. What would you feel like on him? How would you touch him, where?

How would you look at him? He thinks of your face – of your eyes when you smile at him – he feels a squeeze –

When he cums, he does it with an exaggerated moan, head tilted back, lips wide and open. Spurting all over his hand as he makes a little blissful sigh.

He looks up, where he imagines a camera might be, eyes half-lidded. Smirk fighting to tear his lips as he closes them around his fingers, licking them clean.

Maybe you weren’t watching, but that doesn’t stop him. Not from giving you looks the next day.

There’s something in his chest. Wobbling around. Something knocked loose. He finds himself waiting for you to visit, impatient between meals. Demanding. You give, and give of course, but you never give any indication that you’ve seen what he did.

Actually… that was probably his way out.

He tries to proposition you, of course. Lays it on thick. But you hesitate to accept. You blush, and he thinks cute, he thinks he’s got you, but you act like you’re too good for him or something, like you’re not sure if you really want to be with him.

Like you’re too good to be seduced by him? When you fucking kidnapped him in the first place? You don’t want to come in here in the cage you put him in?

It makes him acidic. The rattling in his chest feels like the rattling in his head, only, his tolerance has gotten so much lower.

It’s not long before he snaps at you.

“What?” He says cruelly, words escaping him without his will, “You didn’t think I liked you or anything, did you?”

There’s something mean in his voice, something awful that curdles in his chest. He brandishes it like a sword. Swinging at you, carving sorrow over your features.

“You fucking kidnapped me.” The words come as a surprise even to him, but it was true, wasn’t it? “I’m not here willingly. You’re keeping me here against me will, you’re not helping me. Did you think I’d forget?”

(He can’t even convince himself of that lie. He knows he’d forgotten.)

You look at him, something strange in your eye.

“…If you want to leave, then leave.” You say, and he feels it, like the click of a lock, the crunch of a shackle. How the Binding Vow unwinds in an instant. “I’m not going to drag you back. It’s pointless to keep you here if you hate it so much.”

He tells himself he darted straight out. He didn’t hesitate for a single moment.

But he can’t tell himself that he didn’t look back. That would be too blatant a lie.

He tries not to think about the look on your face, empty and indifferent. He tries not to think about how it felt like a knife to his chest.

And just like that, he’s back. And –

“Gojo? About time you showed up. There’s several special grades waiting for you to exorcise. Where the hell were you? Okkotsu has barely been able to help out your other students.”

His students. His precious students, the ones who needed him, the ones he was preparing to take over the Jujutsu world –

God, the world is so big, isn’t it? It feels so vast and massive now, like he’s suddenly stepped into the shadow of a terrible monolith, blocking out the sun. It doesn’t feel like the first daylight he’s seen in weeks. This light is blinding, like a shadow convalesced.

“Gojo, do you hear me? I’m sending Ichiji over with the car.”

And there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, dragging him down in a way he normally doesn’t feel. This isn’t something that bothers him. For the life of him, he can’t figure out why.

He likes fighting. He likes sorcery, and he’s good at it. Exorcizing curses, beating curse-users to shit. It’s fun. He’s so strong that it’s not a risk anymore, just something to do with his overpowered abilities, and that’s cool. He’s not afraid, not in any universe.

So why does the voice asking him when he’s going to go kill these curses fill him with a sudden, inexplicable nausea?

Why does the thought of having to do this again, all over again, always on repeat, have the pit of his stomach burning? Like there’s a pressure on his shoulders that he knows he can’t relieve.

Satoru knows he has to do this. He’s the only one who can. Other sorcerers are weak – many of them would die. For some of these special grades, it’s him or nothing, with the lives of regular civilians on the line.

Each thought sends his stomach churning. He has to. He has to. He has to do it he has to go he has to he can’t avoid it. Today and tomorrow and the next day, too, over and over and over again.

The sky – it’s so big. So massively big, so wide and yawning, he feels like he’s falling into it. His head is pounding, information flooding back through his senses. One special grade, two, three or four – he has to teleport to them, exorcise them. He has to teach his students. He has to report to the elders. He has to – he has to – there’s so much, so much to do –

The six eyes are screaming at him, the sky is screaming, light burning into his retinas it’s too bright. Too fucking bright out here.

His legs carry him to a nearby wall. He’s leaning against it, now, breaths coming heavy and labored.

And then, it comes. He’d only been half expecting it – part of him still probably thought he was invincible, untouchable.

And he’s right. Nothing is touching him. It just feels like his skin is crawling for no reason. Pins and needles, electric adrenaline racing through every last nerve fiber in his body.

He’s simultaneously too strong and feverishly weak, collapsing against the wall. Gravity feels like it’s pulling harder, off balance, only it shouldn’t be. He should be fine, he should be able to move his limbs however he wants, they shouldn’t feel gangly and overresponsive and desperately twitchy.

His heart shouldn’t be trying to beat itself out of his chest. His lungs shouldn’t feel like they’re on fire. He shouldn’t have alarm bells going off his head, his limbs burning hot with too much energy and not enough.

Between ragged breaths he catches a faint, familiar scent, warm like sunlight –

“Satoru?”

It’s – it’s – it’s you, you’re back, and something awful in his chest jumps with irrational delight, a weight shifting on his shoulders, almost lifted. He tries to control his racing pulse, stammer through your name –

A mind, indifferent gaze meets his eyes. It freezes him in place. All his anxiety swinging on a precipice.

“Is something wrong?” A voice that betrays no emotion, no affection, no hidden longing. No I missed you, or I’m happy to see you, or I hope you weren’t lonely while I was gone.

He’s going insane, he must be going insane, but with all the adrenaline shooting through him, limbs trembling, he’s barely able to keep himself upright against the wall.

“Don’t – don’t you – ” Insane, insane, he knows he’s delirious while he’s saying this, why is he saying it, but his body is acting on his behalf, mind paralyzed with fright, “Don’t you want me?”

How could he sound so – needy? So forlorn? You’d fucking kidnapped him, he should be afraid, he should be angry, if anything.

(Maybe that was his fault from the beginning. He’d never really been quick to anger. Never been one to fear others, either. Deep down, the only thing that had ever hurt him was being left behind.)

Even the six eyes cannot discern your tone, “I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. I tried to make things work with you. You didn’t want it.”

He didn’t, of course he didn’t, you were keeping him fucking captive. He knows this, the information is there in his mind, but his body won’t stop shaking. The sky is too big, the street is too broad, too many bodies, too much cursed energy, every object in every direction overwhelming his senses.

It feels like a migraine. It feels like his legs are about to give out under him, no solid earth to be found. Too big it’s too big he wants to go –

“Unless… you want to come back?”

Satoru knows he doesn’t. He knows the answer is no. He knows that you fucked him up, that this is a consequence of your captivity directly, that he should be able to overcome this if he just bears with it –

I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. I tried.

“Please,” His voice says without his permission, “I want…” To go home. Take me back. Don’t leave me.

Relief floods the entirety of his quaking form as soon as you smile.

“Of course, Satoru,” Your eyes soften, and against all rationality, he feels like he’s made the right choice, “Take my hand. Let’s go home.”

He’s messed up, this is messed up. He’s better than this! He isn’t stupid, he knows what you’re doing! He has the six eyes, for fuck’s sake, he’s the strongest sorcerer in the world!

You’re not strong, Satoru. You only think you are, and I understand why. The whole world has been telling you this forever. But you aren’t, and that’s okay. I’ll protect you.

He doesn’t have to be the strongest sorcerer. Not if he doesn’t want to. He can go back where it’s dark and comfortable and warm, and he can be Satoru Gojo, your cherished pet.

He looks at you, six eyes blinding him, headache burning though his skull. He thinks of how close and soft and safe that place was. How you stayed with him for hours and hours on end. He never had to be alone.

Nothing has ever felt as right as your hand clasped with his own.

[ganondoodle]

the company i work for decided that its switching from the german formal "You"(Sie) to the informal "you" (Du) in all of our websites so now we have to scour the entire database to change it and i quite frankly hate that, not just bc the unecessary extra work but especially bc its such a weird and unecessary change

i bet its bc everything here is getting englishfied (both literally and culturally it feels like, when my new boss talks its half in english bc every second german word is just replaced by an english one despite there being perfectly fine words for it in german too, its so annoying) and bc they want to sound more personal in hopes of getting more clients bc 'company is your fwiend uwu!!', i know this here is the amercian tm site so you wouldnt understand really but i do not want to be greeted with 'du' by companies, no, thats too personal, you dont know me and im not giving you my data, stay away!!

i guess thats how i would describe it .. the formal you is like a polite distance, like someone you dont know staying outside your personal space, but when its the informal 'you' it feels invasive unless i told you you can call me that, and that goes double for companies

maybe its a small thing that doesnt seem important but i cant stand it, im just a little part time worker doing data work so i got no say in it but the companies founder also announced hes giving his post to his kids some time ago so ...... since then theres been alot of changes and new projects that solely aim to imitate whats popular and whats done by other companies, despite ours being one that is, or used to be, intentionally different, like, that was the POINT, but i guess chasing trends is just too appealing for CEOs