#like i think some ppl just don’t know what children are like

[pilonciillo]

i genuinely don’t know how i’m supposed to act at my age

[mars-ipan]

thinking about how the way i first learned about animation memes was through a criticism of them calling them cringe and how that video was complaining about the fact that the animation loops because it’s “lazy” and now that i know how to animate i want to kill that video so so dead

[xx-k1tsun3-k1d-xx]

important info:

YOU CAN TURN IT OFF (links to .gov website about the alerts)

I think in some places you can’t turn them off but in the UK you should be able to! on iPhone these settings are under notifications all the way down at the very bottom past all the other apps

I’m not sure about android bc I haven’t used one in a while but from what I remember it should be similar. hope this helps someone cuz emergency alert systems are important but so many people just have no idea this is happening and that’s gonna cause some shit

IMPORTANT PSA

Please share for UK residents!

The public alert will go off on Sunday 23rd April at 3PM (15:00) BST.

The decision to issue the alert was made against the advice of NGOs who warned this could put vulnerable people in danger. Please spread the message.

[bibleofficial]

Hi, a mutual who shall remain nameless here. I just read your tags on on the inner Mongolian child post. And like. I dunno how to say this, but that took me by surprise, cause I was so sure you were older than me... and I am 33 years old lol. Guess I was wiping l wrong 🙈

no i totally get it omg i’ve got the Elderly Problems like woodhouse (specifically s1e2 11:55) ‘my knees’ but also my hips .. my back … my assbole but im older than u anyway <3 my child

[tanadrin]

I would love to hear the rant about social media doomerism and conspiracy

I’m on my phone right now but the summary version is something like:

Humans are bad at integrating information into their worldview accurately bc of various cognitive biases

Social media incentivizes us seeking out content that excites fear or anger or irritation

Social media thus causes us to form negative impressions of the world bc it mediates so much information consumption and discourse these days

This general negative affective impression is subject to high confirmation bias and ppl in general are really bad at divorcing an affective impression of a thing from their dispassionate reasoning abt a thing

(Bc one of the functions of an affective impression is to “cache” our conclusions about a topic to save time and effort later)

(In general if you are a cynic and pessimist you can fall prey to these biases w/o social media but I think social media makes more ppl susceptible to them)

People don’t want to be dupes so they seek refuge in cynicism. We treat cynicism as wise or worldly when in fact cynicism makes you a dupe and an easy mark for grifters. Cynicism and low trust foster conspiracism, paranoia, and antisocial politics

(This is why so many congenitally contrarian folks seem to flit effortlessly between the far left and far right; it’s not horseshoe theory, they’ve just cooked their brains on this stuff)

This is a world where populist anti-social politicians like Trump and the AfD thrive, bc they will lie about how everything is terrible and people will nod along, bc it explains why their social media is full of awful stories of, like, immigrants eating pets and shit

But it doesn’t just have to be insane lies only a moron could believe. It can be any impression about a fact in the world that it is difficult to personally check and which is vulnerable to being swayed by anecdote

This is how we get a word where people think crime rates are higher than they’ve ever been when in fact crime is falling

Or child predators lurk around every corner when in fact children are safer than ever

Or the American economy is in a recession when in fact it’s doing historically well by just about every available metric (now with full employment AND low inflation!)

Because in a big world even where things are in general good and getting better you can always produce infinite individual examples of shitty things and pipe those in a steady stream into people’s eyeballs, and then point to that and leverage people’s low trust attitudes and their cynicism which tells them they are smarter than the experts and go “statistics is just a fancy way to lie! The world is secretly terrible! Every bad thing is even worse than you thought and every good thing is a lie!”

(Nevermind the whole phenomenon where anything that is complicated or that someone does not themselves understand gets treated like it’s actually secret and a conspiracy.)

And here I know I have to include some disclaimer about how this is not to discount individual cases of suffering or struggle, which are real, or that there are indeed some really awful things happening in the world right now, which there are, but you know what?

I’m tired of doing that. People with reading comprehension operating in good faith ought to be able to deduce that general statements do not obviate particular exceptions, and people who cling to their doomerism as a kind of emotional life raft do not generally argue with me in good faith.

Sometimes doomerism is a load-bearing pillar of their politics, which I think is dumb—I think you can be a leftist or a progressive without being a doomer! In fact I think doomerism is antithetical to useful politics!

Sometimes they are just depressed and treatment-resistant. Sometimes they are just angry misanthropes who want to feel justified in their misanthropy. Some doomers are themselves in bad circumstances and feeling hopeless about that—to them I am enormously sympathetic. Though a lot of doomers will admit they personally are doing OK—this does not seem to be most doomers.

But I think in general cynicism and doomerism and a worldview dominated by a general nebulous air of Everything Is Awful and by abstract nouns with threatening auras is not conducive to wisdom or understanding or useful politics or leading a happy and fulfilling life.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good. 

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left. 

and then satoru wins. 

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead. 

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure. 

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware. 

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place. 

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it. 

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free. 

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair. 

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared. 

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on. 

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close. 

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper. 

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?” 

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for. 

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore. 

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down. 

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were. 

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself. 

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever. 

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why. 

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought. 

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare. 

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature. 

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again. 

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face. 

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high. 

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath. 

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause. 

and then you remember. 

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru. 

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have. 

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again. 

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh. 

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself. 

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close. 

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness. 

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night. 

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans. 

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest. 

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room. 

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry. 

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly. 

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not. 

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen. 

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast. 

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between. 

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace. 

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile. 

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart. 

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.  

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name. 

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles. 

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away. 

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years. 

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do. 

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you. 

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru. 

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had. 

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.  

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him. 

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind. 

his breath hitches. 

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror. 

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms. 

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened. 

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him. 

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance. 

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to. 

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention. 

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence. 

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them. 

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them. 

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to. 

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down. 

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it. 

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself. 

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life. 

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in. 

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you. 

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for. 

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you? 

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it. 

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life? 

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him. 

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal. 

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score. 

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous. 

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort. 

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good. 

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off. 

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think. 

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles. 

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it. 

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug. 

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed. 

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place. 

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look. 

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch. 

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. 

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this. 

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room. 

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook. 

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again. 

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind. 

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks. 

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left. 

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good. 

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence. 

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away. 

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow. 

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation. 

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too. 

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes. 

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too. 

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?” 

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever. 

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive. 

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy. 

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru. 

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little. 

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises. 

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough. 

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink. 

finally, for once, you’re enough. 

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering. 

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much. 

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum. 

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

[hibiscusseaart]

huge ass post with MadaTobi Babies

its finally done, its almost 1 am, I started at 7 pm

OK SO HERE THEY ARE

So a little lore and then I'm gonna introduce them.

As you may remember from my earlier post, Tobirama (they married when he was 19) after the marriage, decided to create a child to tie Madara to him and the village stronger just in case Madara would try to leave the village. He couldn't destroy the village if there's his kid running around, right?

So Tobirama started learning biology pretty early in their marriage + Itama (@oh-no-its-bird 's one) helped a lot too. Mito helped with the seals to make an incubator. Tobirama didn't want a surrogate mother just because he was afraid that Madara would get attached to the mother of his children and he didn’t want that (plus he's jealous but doesn't realise it 🤭).

He created some sort of very real transformation jutsu that would trick his body to think that he has ovaries and he'd get the eggs that way! But he couldn't keep uterus and ect for 9 months, plus this jutsu is HARD to keep on for very long periods of time. It's easier to make a few organs from chakra that could produce real eggs than a whole new system. Plus Tobirama really didn't want to get pregnant and he wasn't sure he wouldn't fuck up his own body. Tobirama, with as gray morale as his, could just scrap failed embryo and start anew. He can't do that with his own body.

Anyway, incubator it is!

At first he did all of that in secret, stealing Madara's sperm (that's... a thing now) for his first experiments while they had sex. (Tobirama fucking Madara real hard that he’d pass out after and then take samples) ANYWAY

So he announced about his plans when the first stable and pretty healthy embryo was ready.

The first baby, Motoko! The melanin quee. She got all of it. Nothing left for her brother or sister. Ofc she's not THAT dark skinned, but she is for an Uchiha who are mostly white as a paper in canon.

(Tobirama is 21 for reference)

Her name literally means "Experiment seed first". Tobirama named this project this way for secrecy if someone would overhear his talks with Itama and Mito. It’d be Uchiha clan head’s child so hush-hush.

The name meanings + kanji! Hope I got them right, I have no japanese knowledge

oh and there is flirting with past and time in general in this name so it might be Tobirama reminiscing his first timeline. Like Motoko didn't even EXIST before.

So when he presented the embryo to Madara and Hashirama, they were ecstatic of course.

Madara almost cried. Hashirama became a river of tears.

Madara never really hoped for his own children since he married Tobirama cuz, well, they're both men. Doesn't really work that way. But Tobirama made it work and Madara is in love all over again.

Madara refuses to leave their future baby for a long time, just looking at them in the incubator. But the baby doesn’t need much there so Tobirama makes him leave and live a life while they’re waiting when the kid is ready.

Oh and Madara was SO against the name that basically means “experiment seed 1”. But when Tobirama asked if he got smth better, he ran away to his compound and tried to find the PERFECT names. He got lost in so many variations and never really decided. So when the kid was “born” (Tobirama just… took her out of the incubator*) and medics checked her, Madara took her in his hands, started crying and while he was having “A moment” Tobirama wrote her name as Motoko, cuz they needed it for administration and Uchiha clan.

*come to think about it, wouldn’t it fuck up a kid a bit? i mean, children develop under pressure of their mother’s organs and they’re in tight position. maybe test tube kids don’t really like to be wrapped in cloth? as i know ppl do that with newborns to imitate feelings like they’re in the womb.

But this name also can be read as “Festival child” so its kinda cute? Madara def told her that that’s exactly what her name means. No seed 1.

Interesting thing, when Tobirama made the baby, he thought he’d make a boy first, a heir. But something went wrong and the kid developed to be a girl. Tobirama was confused why. But technically, the kid is a boy with XY chromosomes but bc of their development and being a genetic experiment something went wrong and they developed as a female (its a real thing btw).

In the long run it didn’t really matter except that Motoko can’t have her own kids bc of all hormonal weirdness. And I don’t think that Tobirama would figure all of that out. He’d think he made some mistake when choosing gender, but kid was born healthy after all. Ofc when they found out that Motoko can’t have kids Tobirama will blame himself, that he ruined his daughter’s life. But she’s would be ok, she had her little siblings growing up and other clan kids so she’s done babysitting.

Okay for her personality! I think she’s kinda like Shisui? Very happy kid, spoiled rotten by her uncles (Hashirama and Izuna compete who is THE BEST uncle) and Tou-san (Madara). Btw Tobirama refuses to be called Kaa-san or any motherly terms. He’s barely holding a kunai in his pockets when Madara calls him wife.

But she’s also very Uchiha with temper and protectiveness. She was trained to be very much Uchiha cuz she’s the future clan head so her jutsu’s are strongly fire natured. Oh and her secondary nature is eath! She took it from the Senju side :)

Good sensor, but not as strong as her other siblings. Have really good chakra reserves and vicious on the battlefield.

Surprisingly looks really like Madara and Izuna’s mom. Her face is all that. Has soft dark hair and soft features. Considered to be very beautiful among Uchihas.

Oh and as you can see, I wrote that she has the Mangekyo. She got it when she was around 14. She was already really strong and cuz of her family, she got cocky. So, you ask me, who died? I think it’d be her female teammate (maybe from Hatake clan? idk I take suggestions) who she was in love with.

So yeah, she got a reality check. Because she got Mangekyo, Tobirama didn’t want her baby to lose her sight, so he improved his own seals that helped him with his albinism. Seals improve his sight and protect from the sun. So he drew Motoko tattoos on her face, like his. Years later it’d be a new feature of the main line.

But before that, when Motoko is 12 and Tobirama is 29, after 8 years of research (and possibly sealing/killing Black Zetsu in the meantime) he decided to try to make another kid. He still wanted a boy.

And he was successful. Meet Akemori! The Music King

The name was suggested by Hashirama. It means “red forest”. Red eyes, plus he sensed that the kid has a bit of mokuton!

But on the downside, Akemori was born an albino. Tobirama himself was really lucky, cuz he had a strong health and I hc that he still has healing abilities, but not as strong as Hashirama’s. But it still helped him in his childhood.

Not for Akemori tho. He was a sickly child, almost blind and burned on the sun easily. Tobirama had to put seals on him when he was about 3 years old. But even then his eyesight was still poor. Seals can’t fix everything.

Tobirama, once again, feels guilty that he didn’t notice any mistakes when he was creating the child.

And being born almost blind in Uchiha clan of all people wasn’t really nice. Though he is still clan head’s child and has a whole bunch of very powerful adults to protect him. Plus his older sister who loves him very much and wants to protect him from any harm.

But because of health issues Akemori was never really trained in shinobi arts. Well, he was trained (his fathers are literally… them) just that he could protect himself, but no one expected him to go on missions or even become a shinobi at all. Uchiha elders treated him as a potential political marriage pawn (even though Madara and Tobirama would never let them do that). Akemori caught on that and never had the motivation to become a shinobi at all. He was offended and said that he’d NEVER become a shinobi.

Madara was a little mad at that, cuz they’re SHINOBI clan, what the hell. But he shut up the second Tobirama sent him The Look. Tobirama was ok with Akemori’s wishes, like his twin and himself are shinobi by necessity, but they finds more joy in research.

Akemori was trained in Mokuton by Hashirama of course, even though Senju elders bitched about him selling clan secrets to Uchiha. But Hokage does what he wants.

Akemori’s mokuton isn’t as strong as Hashirama’s, plus he never really wanted to fight. But he was good with plants so he joined Itama-oji in his research a lot! Especially since Hashirama is busy with Hokage stuff, Itama was delighted to get a new helper.

Akemori is also a really good sensor because, like Tobirama, he had to compensate his bad eyesight. Basically, Akemori is a very Tobirama’s kid.

Surprisingly, he awakened the Sharingan! He was 6 and some foreign ninja (prob Kumo) thought it’d be cool to steal a kid with the Sharingan. Because of his naturally red eyes Akemori got stolen. Ofc when Tobirama felt his kid out of Konoha bonds, he sounded the alarm in the whole Uchiha clan to check on their kids whereabouts and was first to chase the kidnappers.

Kumo nin were killed by a very mad Tobirama and bc of the stress Akemori awakened the Sharingan. It wasn’t much of a use for him, since he’s not a shinobi. But at least Uchihas acknowledge him as a fellow Uchiha and not just Tobirama’s carbon copy.

(btw noone outside immediate family actually KNOWS where the kids coming from. They don't see any pregnant women in the main line house or anyone in the clan with the same time who gave birth these days. Tobirama himself or god forbid Madara aren't ever seen pregnant. Where the fuck kids are coming from? Do they just spawn in the house or what)

(they basically do spawn)

Sharingan helps Akemori to actually see! At least he could see something and could read. But stll, its not really strong, cuz not trained enough.

Basically Akemori is a perfect mix between Senju and Uchiha with Sharingan and Mokuton, but he was nerfed by albinism.

Being almost blind boy who can navigate only with his sensing, doesn’t gives him much hobbies. Ofc he helps Itama and he studies plants and medicine a lot with him, but he still needs a hobby. Books don’t work for him, any type of handicrafts too cuz he can’t just use Sharingan all the time, his head hurts and sometimes he doesn't want to remember a whole book perfectly. He’s also not very interested in training as a hobby.

So in his tweens while Itama and he were traveling (with Uchiha escort (prob Motoko) just in case) to the near town for some medicine and plants, he noticed (heard) a group of musicians and he fell in love.

Itama immediately bought him an instrument (maybe Biwa?).

And now the second son of Uchiha Madara became a musician! Isn’t it fun. Elders are furious.

Madara was baffled but “You do you, son. When you learn, show us? Oh and maybe you can copy someone else’s playing, but be discreet. They may not like that you’d try to copy their music. Shinobi don’t really like when we copy their jutsus too”

With age he learned to play several instruments (I take suggestions on which ones). Some people even thought that he’s trained to become geisha (he's not, he's just a pretty boy who plays music for fun).

When he grow old enough, Itama started to give him weed for inspiration and to relax. Akemori is prone to quiet anxiety attacks after he was kidnapped.

Okay, the final kid. She was born 4 years later after Akemori.

Nari! The pout queen

Madara finally got to name his kid. Her name means “Calm, harmonic village”. Yeah he decided to name his kid after a village. It's still better than Konohamaru

And she’s the final kid, because Tobirama finally got it and produced a “normal” healthy kid. Plus he's not sure how many kids (3) and students (another 4 and Kagami) he can actually handle.

She has very Uchiha coloring, but Tobirama’s facial features. She also inherited his stare.

She’s the baby of the family, but she grew up slightly strict and serious cuz she stayed a lot with Tobirama, cuz he decided he won’t spend another maternity leave out of the Tower. The first two times were a disaster when he came back.

Tobirama left on maternity leaves just cuz he needed to monitor his kids health, especially Akemori’s. Idk about Konoha maternity leaves, but they should be really short, since well shinobi are needed all year long and they can’t wait for mother-shinobi to spend a whole year on that. Though on the other side, mothers need time to recover or they won’t be able to perform good on their missions (plus they probably have a milk smell lol). Who knows, maybe Tobirama was the one who drafted a law about at least one year maternity leave. He got very popular among kunoichi (can you believe that I just remembered that this word exists)

Nari is really like Izuna, but got her temper under control. Maybe think of teen Kakashi but without dead fathers and angst. But also brat.

Her chakra is water nature and she has 0 affinity with fire. Still she did produce great fireball as their traditions dictated, even though it took her many trials and errors. After that she decided that she hates traditions like that. Got really rebellious in her teens, about 13 and even tried to challenge her sister (25) for the clan head position. She didn’t win ofc and was bitter about it.

Also because her sister and brother both have seals, she always dreamed of the same, cuz as a baby she thought that it’s something special for their family. But Tobirama doesn’t think she needs them cuz her sight is perfect and her skin is pale, but it doesn’t burn like Akemori’s.

It triggered interest for seals in general cuz “FINE if you won’t give me seals, I’ll just make them myself!”

Tobirama was completely okay with it. He always strives to encourage kids when they want to learn something new. So he sicked her at Mito. Though his aunt was quite happy to teach her niece sealing art.

also idk why i write evil near her. she's just a brat. though she has the potential to become Azula ish

And that’s it!

I will write more about them later cuz im tired. I have some other ideas I wanna expand. Like Tobirama introducing his pups to his Hatake aunt (did i tell you that i LOVE Hatakes?),

Oh and fun little sketches close ups for a treat

i love this Hashirama with the kids, ugh he's so father

if you have any questions you can send them to my ask box!

[olderthannetfic]

Sorry to revive the hp wank on your blog but, yk, it was pissing me off. I’m so sick of “grow up children the lore isn’t even good.” Should I pick up some sci-fi fantasy brick instead? Some TikTok romantasy shit? As if the solid magic system is why I or anyone is into hp fandom, as opposed to the gaping holes authors and artists use as planters. The volume of work and history of fandom, and yes, history as a cultural phenomenon. It sucks that jkr used her wealth and prominence as a springboard to be hateful, but done is done on that. Jkr doesn’t, for me , atp, come into it, not since she published DH, and I know I’m not alone. The majority of book character slash fic enjoyers w fuck terfs in bio are not the same people w hp jansport and herbology t shirt. They are not hitting retweet. Email warner brothers abt their new theme park, or better yet, the media that legitimizes and platforms her, or better yet, actually pivot to activism /for/ trans people.

Like, it’s not my fault that jeffree star made good music in 2009, and all the racism, transphobia, and sex crimes he’s done before and since don’t actually make my eBay copy of beauty killer slay less. it’s not like he’s getting proceeds. Those are perfectly valid reasons to not be able enjoy something you might otherwise, but like. What we like and dislike is more to do with the gut than ppl act like it is, when it comes to stuff they can’t personally see the appeal of.

I don’t like fascism or mark wahlburg, but that doesn’t mean I think those things being bad is an actually compelling reason for someone to deny their extant enjoyment of Attack on Titan or The Italian Job, even though it /is/ the reason I personally can’t stand these things.

On the other hand I still like Home Alone 2 AND Two Weeks Notice, and Friz Frelings non-overtly-racist ouvre.

This is just another case of moralizing a personal squick, an iteration of which a broad chunk of self proclaimed proshippers seem perfectly happy to engage in.

I have a bunch of new and comfort fics queued up for my top surgery recovery. If one more person tells me to just decide to like earthsea instead I will metaphorically kms in front of them. There’s exactly one earthsea fic on ao3 with gay sex. And, yk, my blorbos aren’t there. Joy you can’t personally relate to is not less important or more immature for being unrelatable to you.

And ngl it wasn’t gonna work on me anyways, but telling people to discard something they enjoy and care about bc otherwise they’re bad evil cringe immature babies with shit taste who only read one book is like, not the winning argument people seem to think it will be.

--

[eve-was-framed]

I can think of about a million reasons not to post your children on social media (especially on Instagram and especially if they are girls) and one of those reasons is that people, often grown men and teenage boys from what I’ve seen, are absolute fucking assholes and the only way they bond with each other and make each other laugh is by being cruel to people

there was a mom showing her daughter wearing a cute princess costume (no hate to the mom btw there’s no way she could’ve known this would happen and most ppl don’t know how bad the internet really is for children). the daughter had very dark skin and the comments were almost exclusively racial slurs, grown men calling the little girl ugly, “jokes” about how she should go pick cotton while wearing the costume, a few sexual jokes, just the most vile shit you’ll ever see some of the meanest comments had over 100k likes. what a fucking garbage app

[ninyard]

Thoughts about Kevin having an actual Ed and not doing all these rants about food for fun and giggles like some ppl think

OKAY. Okay. So this is just some kind of headcanon stuff based on canon that I’ve thought about for a while. Obligatory trigger warning for ED topics specifically related to ortho/fasting/general shitty relationship with food stuff.

So. I don’t think that Kevin is capable of admitting to himself, by himself, that he has an eating disorder. But I think there’s two sides to it - there’s his body image, and there’s his healthy eating. Their overlap is sizable, but blurry, in the sense that it’s not quite clear where one starts and the other ends.

I have this image in my head of two parallel situations; the first a situation where a young Kevin is sat on a couch with his mom by his side. It’s a lazy Sunday, the TV is playing old cartoons, and Kayleigh is sitting next to her young son, both of them curled up in pyjamas and awake too early to be sane. Kayleigh a book open to one side of her and a notebook on her lap, and she’s scribbling something down that a five or six year old Kevin couldn’t care less about. He’s a good kid, a quiet kid, and all he wants some mornings is just a bowl of cereal, his mom by his side, and his favourite tv show. So he gets all three; an old episode of Kayleigh’s favourite childhood animation, the two of them curled up beneath the same long blanket, and a big bowl of coco pops on his knees, or whatever the sugary, chocolatey American equivalent is. The spoon is a teaspoon, snug in between chubby little fingers, and there’s chocolate milk and cocoa puffs all over his little face, but he’s happy. He’s content, he’s comfortable. He’s a kid, being a kid, eating the cereal that his mom buys him without question, just because it’s his favourite.

Then there’s Kevin, not many years later, sitting at a cold kitchen table with Riko across from him and Tetsuji in between - their little bodies are too big for the chairs they’ve been sat in, but they’ve been pushed forward and boosted up until they’re uncomfortably sat over a gray looking plate. They aren’t allowed eat until they can identify the protein in their breakfast, until they can recount what macros are sat on their plates. It’s a cruel and unusual thing to ask of two nine year olds, but they’re used to it by now. Kevin doesn’t like eggs anymore. Every morning it’s the same. A balanced meal, with the same amount of calories as usual, at the same time every single day of the week. Routine is good for growing minds, the master had told them, and nothing should go into a growing body without knowing exactly what it is.

The problem starts in that, when he was younger, his diet wasn’t necessarily focussed on restricting. The master wanted to ensure that Riko and Kevin were hitting their daily needs. If a plate was not empty, then a goal had not been met, and it didn’t matter how much Kevin cried that he was full, or not hungry, he couldn’t get permission to leave that table until his plate was clean. Their meal times were set and strict - any changes were usually punished in the firing of cooks or the beating of unfocused children. They were weighed each morning to ensure they were growing as they should be, gaining weight as expected, gaining muscle as required.

The older they got the more particular things got; Kevin found himself on an almost unmanageably strict diet and weight management routine - nothing unhealthy, in theory, but too healthy, instead. Times that he couldn’t deviate from, the same meals day in day out, nothing added, nothing taken away. It was when he started working harder on his physique that it became second nature - there was no space for him to be a lazy high schooler who didn’t want however many grams of protein with his dinner. That didn’t exist. Want was a non-factor. Food was always a finely crafted need.

When Exy becomes the biggest priority in his life (as if it wasn't before), when gaining muscle and working out becomes more appropriate for his age, he's introduced to intermittent fasting by a Raven dietician that should've had her license revoked. He was 14, 15, 16 and calculating the times he would be able to stop eating at in order to get a decent amount of time without food in his system. He would calculate what he would need throughout the day to eat as little as possible but to get the nutrition that he needs. They built this bulking/restricting programme into his routine, weeks where he'd eat at regular intervals throughout the day, hitting his calories and nutritional needs, and weeks where he felt like he wasn't eating much at all. It was done in a way that research deemed healthy, so who was he to argue?

So it’s normal to him, this obsession, more of a built-in requirement than something he thinks about at all. He's never been around people that don't care about things in the way he's supposed to. He doesn't remember much of his mother or her eating habits, and until he's much, much older, he isn't reminded of any of the foods he was allowed to eat as a much younger child, until a smell or a taste throws him back. (When he tells David he's never had McDonalds before, he believes he is telling the truth, but when he allows himself to try the fast food some time into the future, he remembers that taste from some memory too far away to touch. It's confusing and sickening and it feels wrong, wrong, wrong.)

I think the thing about Kevin's eating disorder is that, until he is around people that can tell him it's not normal, he doesn't see any problem with it, and even then he sees the foxes as unfocused and unserious when he's called out on it. He doesn't believe anyone when they tell him he has an unhealthy obsession with what he does and doesn't put in his body - why would he? Why would he have any reason to believe that they're right?

The way I like to imagine him understanding his issues is between a few different ways. There's David, first off, in those first couple of weeks after he broke his hand. It's beyond David how Kevin can be in their hotel room with a barely recognisable hand asking about dinner, or calculating how he could properly fast around this whole ordeal. How Kevin could barely keep down any food he was in that much pain, but still insisted on having a full meal that he forced down his throat because he had to. He watched how frustrated Kevin became when he would throw up his food, some app on his phone or a scribbled-on napkin calculating what he was missing with every day that went on where he was in too much pain to eat. There's David, who tells him he can't justify cooking him a huge meal that he can't eat, and Kevin who has a panic attack at the idea of missing a week, two weeks, of being on track. I can't play if I don't eat, he sobs, when all David is thinking about is, I'm not even sure you can play at all.

There's Abby, who does his first physical a couple of weeks into his time in PSU, who carelessly tells him his weight, and Kevin who immediately freaks out and the number being much lower than he's expecting. Abby who tells him it's okay, that he's recovering, and he who panics and asks her to buy him as many protein bars as she can find.

There's Bee, who tells him his relationship to food is unhealthy, and Kevin, who doesn't trust her at all. There's the number for an on-campus dietician and a pamphlet about eating disorders pushed across a table that he throws out into the first trash can he can find.

(There's Allison, something I could fill a whole other ask about, who can't stand watching the way that he eats, his obsessions with food, who begs Bee to do something about it because of how triggering it is for her to watch.)

So that's one side of it - his obsessive health, his over conscious eating habits, his learned behaviours that he would never deem to be unhealthy. There's that need for control over everything that goes into his body, that sends him into a spiral when he can't keep on track of things. It's the eating disorder than most people in the sports world wouldn't bat an eyelid at. He's dedicated, of course he is, he's admirably obsessed. That's just what athletes do. That's just how he was taught to care for his body. He doesn't comprehend for a long time just how damaging it is for his whole world to revolve around his next or last meal.

The other part is his body image - this one, maybe, is less tied to canon than the healthy eating, but something that I feel goes hand-in-hand with 1) him being an athlete in the public eye and 2) already having underlying issues with orthorexia and the way that he eats.

Imagine this, Kevin who has always been mindful and obsessed with the way that he looks, how much he weighs, how his body is shaped and built - he's 17, 18, doing some of his first major magazine shoots. One is for a sports magazine, or maybe a pop culture magazine, and he's doing this shoot in a few different outfits. But the last of the bunch is some shirtless shots, all harmless and not-too-revealing, but shirtless nonetheless. And Kevin has been so obsessed with his own body for so long that he knows exactly how he looks when he's unclothed. Maybe he has a mole on his lower stomach. He has a rib on his left side that sticks out a little more than the rest. His six pack isn't perfect, but it's there. He has acne on his back. Something.

Kevin does the shoot, and honestly? He feels great. He feels like he looks his best, he's happy with himself and how well he's been looking after his body, and then the magazine comes out. Then the magazine comes out, and he flicks to the section dedicated to him, and there, in a full fold-out spread, is him, shirtless. It doesn't take him long to notice the differences - he'd asked the photographer to flick through the photos at the shoot, and there's some tiny, minor editorial differences that he can't stop staring at.

There's a little bit of normal body fat that usually just hangs over his pants - it's muscle, he knows it is, and it is minuscule when he sees it on himself, but for some reason they've edited it out. The mole on his stomach is gone. The redness on his chest, on his back, the textured skin on his stomach - smooth, gone, no longer a problem. It's the first time Kevin has ever seen his body photoshopped, as if the things normal about him are a problem, and he looks closer at any shoots he's done before; tiny blemishes on his face, little scars, freckles, things he'd never even considered to be a problem, disappeared through the magic of photo editing. It's jarring, at first, but he realises then just how much it's been done. And it's not necessarily that the editors of these photos sees these things as problems, we know that, it's just how normalised it is for celebrities to be flawless at that point in time, but Kevin doesn't see it like that.

Some other times he compares edited photos and non edited photos of himself - ones where he's been made to look taller, leaner, sometimes bigger, whatever the publication required, and that manifests itself into a different obsession. It manifests into the desire to look perfect, flawless outside of the healthy eating and muscle toning he's already doing. I've always thought that if Kevin's eating disorder was to turn from something along the lines of orthorexia into something else, that that would be the reason. When he loosens up from his strict routine after joining the foxes, maybe then would come the au or the point where it'd manifest into knowingly fasting without it being a healthy-diet thing. Maybe then it'd manifest into harming his body knowingly because he feels like it'll make him look "perfect", instead of harming his mind unknowingly because he needs to be "healthy".

I should stop myself before this gets too much longer but the TL;DR is that I have a lot of thoughts about Kevin & his relationship with food and his body and I could talk about it forever. <3

[erzva]

⟡ general Jason todd headcanons and how i view and portray him in my works cw. soft gentle clingy needy desperate touch starved jay

‎

…

i need to start off with certain stereotypes/ways in which he gets potrayed sometimes that i hate with every fibre of my fucking being :

he’s not some aggressive horny flirty fuckboy asshole jock. he’s grown and too old for that hs bs. like literally he would think of that behavior as annoying, revolting and stupid

and he’s most definitely (and i can’t stress this enough) not a yandere kidnapper or a stalker or any of that weird bullshit (if you wanna write stuff like that do it but it’s ooc)

he’s literally so caring and sensitive and he would be so gentle and soft. he’d be awkward and wouldn’t exactly know how to go about his feelings for someone.

he knows what its like when no one cares and when you grow up in an unstable home or on the streets so he has compassion for outcasts, children, women, non-cishetmen and animals

he’s canonically a nerd. he’s literary and he used to like going to school and learning. ppl always get him and tim mixed up bc tim hated going to school whereas jason wished he wouldn’t have had to drop out

also obviously very much an intersectional feminist ! he’s read all the books abt it and is actively working against his indoctrinated misogyny yup!

he loves all women and has a little soft spot for woc, fat/chubby/muscular women, women with big noses, you name it. just women who don’t fit the stereotypical beauty standard in general

he’s scared and ashamed of how needy and clingy he actually is. he knows himself (unfortunately) and it’s not something that he can just get rid of. it’s pent up from early childhood bc he never got enough love and then from after his death bc of all the shit he had to go through.

this side of him will haunt him until he dies- again. he can’t change it but he sure as hell won’t embrace it either. it’s a secret he wishes he could take with him to his final grave. actually- deep down he wishes he would find someone who understands and accepts him the way he is and someone who he can trust to be himself with.

!! aroace-spec , bi (women+)

he is secretly so incredibly desperate.. desperate for love, intimacy, being understood and accepted, desperate to be touched and hugged- loved.

he’s just so touch starved, he doesn’t even know what it feels like not to be. what it feels like to be loved or happy, to be content. how to not constantly feel like something is missing.

he needs someone to take care of him bc he just does a very poor job at that.. also it feels nice being able to just shut off and not having to think about anything

he wants to be hugged and caressed

gentle touches

he loves forehead kisses and headpats or just your hand on his head and in his hair

he wants to kiss you passionately and deeply

prefers making out and hugging/cuddling over sex

all he wants is to lay in bed or sit on the couch hugging someone who truly loves and accepts him and never let go

switch with a sub/bottom lean

i think it goes hand in hand with him having a sub lean but he’s attracted to strong dominant people. preferably someone who’s a switch too

everybody knows this already but he LIVES for praise

praise him and he’s in heaven. you’ll literally get him to do anything if you praise him. want him to give you head? just be a little clingy and loving, telling him how much you love him and how good he always makes you feel and he’s already dropping to his knees taking off your pants.

definitely a service / pleasure dom

if you’re fem/afab :

eating you out is his favorite thing. he goes in like it’s all or nothing (to him it is). no penetration if you didn’t cum at least once from his tongue.

he loves it when you ride his face and use him to make yourself feel good. there’s not a single thing he likes more than seeing you on top of him.

he loves watching you go from humming and gently playing with his hair to breathing heavily and tugging on his hair- to whining, moaning and grunting while grinding your pussy into his face deeper and faster to finally reach your high

also loves it when you ride his dick. being able to relax a little and just look up at you feeling good because of him makes him moan so much

he’ll also pull you down a lot when you’re riding him just to hug you and hold you close and to hear you breathing and moaning into his ear

he’ll thrust up from under you as fast as he can just to catch you off guard and see your face in pure bliss. he loves it when he makes you cum in this position.

he also loves missionary and the mating press

you know he’s close when he starts holding you close and mumbling/whining your name over and over again

if you’re male/amab :

he loves giving you head and eating your ass and wants you to use him. it really gets him going. it’s bc of his incredibly patent inferiority complex and feeling like he’s a good for nothing piece of shit

he also likes being the one that penetrantes you though. he’ll start begging for praise even though he’s the one topping saying things like “tell me i’m a good boy, tell me i’m your good boy.” “tell me how good i make you feel” “please just tell me i’m doing a good job.” “wanna make you feel good.” all while his big tall frame is hovering above you and ramming into you

a whimperer. he whines and moans a lot, shamelessly. he grunts and groans too. especially when he’s a little bit too frustrated or stressed. and he shamelessly breathes heavily during sex. any noise that he can make will escape his lips. all in all he’s just incredibly vocal and he doesn’t care if people can hear.

he really likes handjobs. preferably with you sitting in front of him so he can look up at you but he also likes it when you’re sitting behind him and you say things in his ear while kissing his neck or cheek and sucking on his earlobe

but he especially loves it when you’re sucking him off and finger his ass at the same time. add a little praise and you’ll have him whining, whimpering and maybe even crying. he’ll be a mess

he often gets teary-eyed during sex because of how sensitive he is. and i mean both his body and his feelings.

he prefers frotting, handjobs and dry humping over penetration.

he wants and needs someone who'd accept him for who he is and wouldn't wanna change him. someone who shares the same morals as him and doesn't have a problem with him being morally grey.

he would want someone he doesn’t have to explain everything to. he knows it’s toxic and not really fair but he hates having to put his thoughts into words. he’s not really good at it.

so he needs someone who’s observant and pays attention to details. maybe even someone who can read body language. just so he doesn’t have to go through the uncomfortable experience of having to say that he’s needy and broken out loud.

he wants someone to pay attention to him and figure him out so well that he doesn’t have to ask for things and they instead know what he wants and needs at certain times and just give it to him.

he gets pissed and sighs while rolling his eyes when he’s showing clear signs of what he wants and you’re not picking up on it.

it took great cruelty to make him this gentle. but to an extent he’s grateful for it because he now knows exactly why it’s so important to treat people kindly and gently.

…

[unknown-cold]

Some people be missing vital points of your post about people forgiving jinx but not Caitlyn. Just because she’s a rich nepo baby, doesn’t make her trauma any less significant than jinx’s. Like wtf. That’s shit I’m sick of. Mental illness and grief don’t stop because you have money. Ppl have an understandable anger towards privilege but i think it’s warped some of their perceptions of the show. Both Caitlyn and jinx’s reactions to trauma/grief are realistic, neither better or worse than the other. I’m more interested to see the end game for both of those characters and how they manage that grief/trauma in the long run. I have my thoughts on how they will mirror Cait and Jinx’s endings to reflect that

Say it LOUDER!! 🗣🗣

And you know what's worse than that is when I saw a post saying that Caitlyn was going to kill the child because she's a cop, what does being a cop or an enforcer have to do with killing a kid?

They completely ignoring that she's in a condition of hysteria from fear and anger at that moment, (literally, was Silco a cop when he decided to kill Vander and his children in episode 3 in season 1, or not? He's from Zaun so he has the right to do bad things, but if he's someone from Piltover, then no. "Of course I'm not saying that these actions are good, of course not. I just want to show how hypocritical these people are when it comes to comparisons and accepting actions from other characters and characters even though they're exactly the same actions")

But anyway, the important thing now is that they should know that trauma is trauma no matter what, whether the character is rich or poor, adult or teenager. Sadness and anger are emotions that are difficult to control, and this is the reality. There is no need to lie to ourselves. Go and search even on Google, and you will see that when writers make a character act in a certain way, whether it is good or bad, there is a clear and logical reason for it. And if these people sympathize with Jinx and her actions, then they should sympathize with Caitlyn as well because she is also a victim like Jinx, not only in terms of trauma, but Caitlyn also became a victim of Ambessa's manipulation. Same when Jinx was a victim of Silco's manipulation.

In my opinion, these people should calm down a bit because until now we haven't seen anything from the show. They should trust the writers of the show to make the characters look like this.

[cherrybomb107]

Okay, so, y’all already know I’m one of “those” Jinx stans(I don’t think she did anything truly monstrous and would defend her with my life). I feel this way for two main reasons: I see myself in her, and my personal biases kick in when it comes to my girl.

Now, I don’t consume fiction to make moralistic judgments of the characters; I’m here to have fun and be entertained. But, because stan culture has affected us all and made fandom discussions so personal and emotionally charged, I’ll bite. There are ppl in this fandom who won’t even call Silco a proper villain because of how nuanced he is. As if two things can’t be true; it is perfectly possible to be both nuanced AND a villain. Yet this same sympathy is not always expressed when talking about Jinx. Why is that?

Answer: misogyny and the demonizing of ppl with mental illness imo. Cause that’s the only plausible explanation I’m willing to accept why so many think of Jinx as a monster for killing cops, gang members, and asshole politicians, yet give all the grace in the world to Silco, who flooded the Lanes with Shimmer, had children working in his factories, was ready and willing to kill Powder before she hugged him, and waxed poetic about revolution when he never had any real plans of helping Zaun. He just wanted to be in charge. Like I said, I don’t consume fiction to make moralist judgments of the characters. But Silco’s actions are WAYYYY worse than Jinx’s, by a long shot.

And to my second point: my personal feelings. Disclaimer: ofc I don’t think killing ppl is right, nor am I an advocate for mindless slaughter. However, that is not what Jinx does. Her views on violence are incredibly warped due to the environment she grew up in. But even still, she NEVER harms innocent, non-combatants, much as some parts of this fandom likes to act like she does. I love the Firelights! I sympathize with their plight! But, they are literally a gang. And the ones that Ekko rolls with(Scar and the others) have inserted themselves into armed conflicts with Jinx before. They have been shown to be willing to use lethal force.

Silco is a drug kingpin. Jinx is his daughter. So no, I don’t think the daughter of a drug lord engaging in armed conflict with gang members makes her “monstrous”. It’s a street fight. Anything goes. If you pull up with bats and fists, and somebody else pull up guns ablazing, I do think that they’re responsible for escalating the conflict. I also think that in a street fight, you can’t pull up on someone and expect them to abide by the rules you set for yourself, yk? To continue this, as I said, the Firelights were willing to use lethal force. In episode six, when they interrupted Vi and Jinx’s reuinion, Scar knocked Vi out cold. He then raised his spear and was about to stab her in the back before Ekko stopped him. They then proceeded to kidnap Vi and Caitlyn. All of this because they followed Vi and THOUGHT that she was working for Silco! Is assaulting, almost killing, and kidnapping someone just because of your suspicions not “monstrous”? Or is it different because the Firelights are the “good guys”?

Now onto the Enforcers. Jinx sees the Enforcers as monsters who killed her parents right in front of her, and brutalized Zaunites all throughout her childhood. I know the show is fictional, but it touches on real life political themes. And our real life experiences inform how we consume fiction. I’m Black, female, queer, and from the US. The Enforcers are incredibly reminiscent of cops in my country. And if you know anything about the history of policing in this country, then you’d understand why I don’t give nary a fuck, nor a shit, nor a damn that Jinx kills Enforcers. Same sentiment applies to the Council. Fuck em🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

Tldr: I don’t think killing someone is the worst thing you can do to them. It’s about who you kill and how you do it. Jinx quickly kills cops, gang members, and politicians. I never have, nor will I ever, consider her doing so “monstrous”

[cocogum]

Yugo and Amalia’s relationship is much more complicated than you think.

Sometimes I wonder what Amalia meant when she said “Nothing is impossible.” at Yugo’s explanation of why they couldn’t be together.

Like I know you want that eliatrope ass but he’s got a point shawty.

What do you think would’ve happened if he got into a relationship earlier on with you??? Can you imagine how it would’ve looked like?? My god there would be so much drama and rumours in the Sadida kingdom….but like really big ones to the point where it wouldn’t sound funny or entertaining anymore, but just criminal 💀

Also, how is she gonna….you know? Do anything to him? Sure, Yugo’s mentally a man but he still has a 10-year-old body.

Did Amalia not think this through when she told him “Nothing is impossible.”???? Either she said that because she genuinely only wanted to keep things pure with him besides hand-holding and kissing, or she’s just a really freaky bitch in bed.

There can’t be anything else, it’s either one of them or she just said that without thinking.

Imagine being a servant in her kingdom if Yugo did get together with her before season 3…..I love drama but I don’t wanna get scarred for life, there’s a limit.

Amalia would legit be the scariest one in the relationship though. Like it’s cute and very loyal of her to accept him even if he doesn’t look like a grown man but if you’re fine getting tongue kissed by him ON THE MOUTH when he looks like a minor AND you don’t care what others say, then you’re a menace to society. I wouldn’t even be worried for Yugo, I’d just be worried for everyone else’s sake. (Before ppl come for my ass, dw i loved the yumalia kiss cuz no one was around them-)

Some people are saying that Yugo’s reason for not being with her is bs because “love is love” and “Yugo can just explain that his race ages slowly to people”.

When in actuality, it’s all very much more complicated than it already looks.

In fact, their relationship could raise so many problems and conflicts that I decided to list them up for you. Here are the following reasons why these two being together can go very wrong:

1) Amalia isn’t a normal Sadida. She’s a PRINCESS of the SADIDA KINGDOM. Marriage isn’t just some event that happens and then ends. It won’t look like the one Dally and Eva had. Royal marriages are a bigger deal than they let on and it’s a public thing to witness.

2) Amalia is a public and authoritative figure. Meaning that if she were to marry Yugo, the whole world would know that she got with a man who’s stuck in a child’s body. Sure, even if Yugo explained the situation to the other nations, this would still look very weird and off-putting for the others to see. People would still wonder why (and especially how) Amalia fell in love with Yugo when he looks like that. They would definitely start asking questions. Not to mention that if Amalia were to showcase who she loves to the world, plenty of sick twisted people would see their relationship and feel encouraged to continue their behavior (you know exactly what kind of ppl I’m talking about here). And if those same disgusting people got caught doing immoral things with children, they would just point fingers at Amalia and say “But if she does it, how come I can’t?”. They’d start blaming her for their actions, making her look even worse to the public.

3) No matter how you look at their relationship, the only ones who would genuinely feel comfortable witnessing them together would be Ruel, Eva, Dally, Adamaï, and even Elely and Flopin. They know Yugo and Amalia on a personal level because they have all been through so much with these two that they know exactly how they are and know that Amalia isn’t the type to take advantage of Yugo like that. But if the rest of the world were to see them like this? That’s a hard no.

4) Amalia claims that she doesn’t care what other people think. That means she wouldn’t be ashamed or shy to give Yugo affection out in public, she definitely feels like the type to do public displays of affection with her significant other. Who knows who could see them together? Teenagers, adults, senior citizens, but especially the children who would pass by them and be too confused to understand why a grown woman is kissing a ‘child’ like that.

5) Her family (which currently consists of Armand and Aurora) would immediately stop her from getting together with Yugo. Because yes, her family would also be a problem. (I was surprised that I didn’t see a lot of people mention the Sadida family to be another factor against their relationship.) Armand is too much of a strict brother. He won’t be easy to sway and he always says what he thinks. He’d immediately (and clearly) explain to Amalia that this decision of hers is a very disgusting and shocking one. The idea of throwing harsh words at her wouldn’t seem very far-fetched for Armand to do. Not only that, but he’d also start to become very strict on her, wanting to know her whereabouts at all times and make sure that her time outside of the kingdom is limited since he now knows he can’t trust her when it comes to what types of men she loves and especially who she’s friends with. Aurora, on the other hand, is already very manipulative so she’d most likely side with her husband on everything that he says when it comes to Amalia.

6) And last but not least, her relationship with Yugo would make the royal Sadida family look extremely bad in front of the other kingdoms and nations. Like I said before, since Amalia is a public/authoritative figure due to her royal status, her choices to inflict any action has a chance to make her family look bad. The same can be said for Armand too if he did anything without thinking.

So in short, not only would Amalia and Yugo’s relationship look weird and wrong to the world no matter what Yugo says, but their relationship could also affect and hurt a lot of people if these two are not careful or aware of how they’d look like, especially Amalia.

[gabilina]

It's funny when ppl in tog fandom hate Chaol for serving King of Adarlan while potraying Rowan as this innocent soul who was forced into blood oath with Maeve, but completely ignoring what he said during his confrontation with Aelin when he said how ppl of Adarlan were forced into this war and that he himself never wanted to serve the King:

“This was my home too.” Aelin snaps. Chaol scoffs, “Some home you must have had. If all you talk about is burning it to the ground.” “Shouldn’t I?” Aelin asks, dangerously low, “Adarlan conquered my people, killed my family, made us slaves!”Aelin stalks closer to him, shoulders tight, “Don’t you think that’s worth burning it down for?” This time Chaol watches her, stares right into her eyes to find her answer—and laughs. Laughs so hard he’s nearly crying, nearly falling to the ground in hysterics. “Ohhhhh,” Chaol says, stretching out the sound almost maliciously, “so that’s what this is?” Chaol takes in a deep breath, that damned smile still on his face and asks, “Just tell me the truth. You just want an excuse for all your rage. You want to burn these streets? Fine. But don’t blame the people of Adarlan. They were just as much slaves to this kingdom as you were.”That rage that Chaol taunted her for boils over into something sharp and the fire in her veins becomes molten. Chaol’s head turns back with such force that she’s almost surprised that she’s slapped him. Almost. After a silent, tense moment, Chaol chuckles and the anger in his eyes almost looks like pain, “Is that the only way you know how to treat me, Celaena?” Her old name whispers against her heart, slithering its way into her soul, biting and poisoning her blood. It feels like an accusation. Horribly, it feels like the truth. “Don’t you dare,” she chokes on her fury, “Don’t you dare.”“Is it?” He asks quietly, all of his previous humor gone like it was never even there, before he begins again with hollow eyes. “My people were forced into this war, and were hunted down when they resisted. Magic was so newly stolen away that they didn’t stand a chance. You’ve forgotten, oh great queen, that the slaughter began here first.” Chaol steps closer, close enough that his breath mingles with hers, “Did you also forget that Adarlan also used its own people in labor camps, to make the war even possible? Do you know what family names were wiped out on that day? What children were put in chains for? Where they were buried?” Quietly, almost like a dying breath, he leans in closer and his words gut her like a dagger, “They don’t have graves. Or records. Or even anyone here left to remember them. To know their lives, to know their fucking names.”Aelin takes in a sharp breath, hating him. Hating him with all her broken heart. Hates the tears in his eyes, hates his last name, hates his grief. She burns and burns and hates. “If you really hate anyone, Aelin,” and something in her rips apart in the way he says her name, “you should at least hate the right people. After all, if you want to hate me for serving a king I never wanted to serve (…)

But you know Aelin is a better protagonist than Feyre and Bryce. She hates injustice. She's even better that Rhysand. Overall throne of glass characters are better than the acotar onces.

[arcanahangedman]

it fascinates me how the only hate i see for jundori is entirely projection and bad faith interpretation

chidori can be her own three-dimensional character, a homeless orphan abducted by evil corporate overlords for human experimentation, who grows up too fast and has to learn to fend for herself alongside other victims of this abuse, whose love of art and nature contrasts with her apathy to life and suicidal ideation

While. also. being a child who never got the chance for wider socialisation, bewildered by this weird guy’s interest in her art and his insistence on keeping an eye on her (bc she literally fucking c*ts herself in public and is then hospitalised) but his sheer compassion grows on her. someone called their relationship stockholm syndrome and ooooh my goooood Do u even know what that means.

junpei is a 17 year old kid. as a member of sees, he (like the rest of the group) has no idea what’s going on with the kirijo group or their operations, nor does he hold any power over their choice to hospitalise chidori. also she is there bc SHE LITERALLY SELF H*RMS LIKE ARE U DUMB

to act as if junpei is some sort of scheming villain that supports and is responsible for chidori being held hostage instead of being a scared kid, apart of an organisation he is kept entirely in the dark about, concerned about the safety of this other person his age who goes around assassinating ppl and c*tting herself…genuinely u could not think of a more disingenous interpretation of his character if u tried

i saw someone say that chidori is portrayed by fandom as junpei’s “no-panties mommy housewife” (almost that exact wording) and it’s like. What Are You Talking About No She Isn’t. She Is 16 Why The Fuck Would You Even Suggest That Or Word It That Way You Freak

it’s extremely bizarre to write off a ship bc u choose to engage with the cishet male incel side of the persona fanbase and view it through their perspective. like what does that have to do with their actual depiction in the game or ur average tumblr jundori enjoyer.

if u have issues with the power imbalance between the two of them, sure, it’s understandable. junpei is not the one being held against his will and chidori repeatedly protests staying in the hospital (i must stress that i, for one, do not think it wise to leave a minor who consistently self-h*rms without supervision :p) but the presence of a power imbalance does not automatically equal an abusive misuse of that imbalance

last note: ppl like to bring up junpei’s weirdo behaviour towards the other female cast members. i’m not going to treat this as insignificant but it’s also not particularly relevant unless ur arguing that junpei is seeking to control, perv on, or abuse chidori. Which he isn’t lol like he literally just wants to talk to her, stop her from c*tting herself, and show her that she can have a life outside of living on the streets and assassinating ppl with her merry band of men. the worst u could call him is naive (again. he’s 17.) but yeah he’s soooo controlling and abusive, guys !!

i’m not over here saying everyone has to like or support jundori, or either character. everyone has their preferences and idgaf about urs. but it would be sooooo great if we didn’t act as if one of these two children, both mistreated and left in the dark by evil corporate overlords, is actually a subservient overlord pawn who manipulates chidori so he can ?? keep her company when she’s alone and ask her about her feelings ????

anyway this isn’t supposed to be some epic final anti-jundori takedown so if u wanna discuss further, dm me. i don’t want no smoke just bc i think u ppl are genuinely weird 🩷

conclusion: i’m thinking about how that one persona ships poll had a 90% positive response to jundori so like Boom jundori sweep