#wailing abt wha

[owlespresso]

wip. qifrey.

“If you knew what I wanted to do to you, you’d crawl out of your own skin just to get away from me.” you say, voice somber in the chill of the night. The autumn moon, fulsom and orange, hangs above the pines. Wispy strands of fog linger close to the dew-slick grass, strands bent under the weight of the moisture.. Warm, yellow lights shone through the fog—lanterns from the village only a field away. How fast can Qifrey run? You wonder, staring into the forest’s gaping maw, over the patches of deadened brown which litter the path to the treeline.

“What?” he asks, voice stuttering over itself, breathless.

“And who knows? Maybe it would work. I just—I just want to do things to you,” you say, eyes wide and manic like a moorland hare’s. “And I hate myself for it, and you should too.”

“Well…” he seems to take a step back, quieting as he evaluates you. His gaze silently tracks the curl of your fingers around the familiar shape of your blade’s sheath. “What kind of things would you want to do?” A silence hangs between you both. You shut your mouth tight, teeth grinding together. Qifrey notices the tick of your jaw and continues. “It’s perfectly normal to… desire other people.” he says, comforting, carefully explaining the concept like you’re yet another one of his students, lamb-legged and new to the ways of the world. “It’s only human. To want to be loved.”

You laugh, the sound so violent and sudden that it jolts him. 

“You just don’t get it, do you?” you say, shoulders slumping. Malignant, marcid despair settles over your entire body, thoughts twisting and curling with frantic jolts of emotion you were never meant to feel. Your hands twitch, tongue heavy as that strange, restless energy pulses underneath the surface of your skin, jumping from nerve to nerve. You feel bared to the cold moonlight, dredged in embarrassment thick and cloying like thick swampland mud. “Ugh, forget it. It’s—I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s better that you just leave me alone.” 

Your lips contort with a snarl, space between your brows crumpling as you struggle to pull together the ramshod rusty remnants of your composure, the gelid front you’ve upkept for so long. Only to lose it now, in front of him,

“Wait!” he calls, a desperation in his voice that gives you pause. The withered grass crunched under his feet. And—you hate it—you so easily recognize the telltale sounds of someone about to chase you. A seasoned professional in being hunted.

You whip around with immediate intensity, eyes blowing wide. His hand awkwardly hovers hardly an inch away from you, positioned to pull at where your sleeve had been. His wide-eyed countenance melts with guilt as he takes in your reaction, makes his own assumptions about what it means. Whatever he’s thinking, it’s probably right. Qifrey who is so deeply rooted with his own traumas, likely knows you better than most of the villagers, at this point. Sees underneath your hardened lacquer.

You glance down at his hand, take in the delicate curve of his artist’s fingers, the way the sleeves slutty black turtleneck hug tight up half his palms. The white fabric of his coat bunched ‘round his elbow, letting you see the delicate bend of his wrist. The bones would give so easily if you grabbed him there.

Oh, you hate him. How easily he commandeers your attention. Does he know the control he has? Has he been playing dumb this entire time, for the lone purpose of driving you insane? Pushing you to your limit?

[pepprs]

going to see if i can get em*rgency c*unseling tomorrow regarding The Circumstances 😗✌️

[avtrbee]

Would You Still Love Me If I Was a Worm?

i see lots of tiktok challenges abt the jjk men esp abt gojo, but lets be real here yall gojo is probably the one doing them to you and hed prolly take the joke too far

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?” You answered, still eyeing the children’s clothes catalog in your magazine. You stare at a red bag a little to long. Tsumiki did say she needed a new bag right? You pondered. Maybe Megumi needs one too… You flip the page and scanned it for possible items Megumi might want.

In front of you, your husband was sprawled all over the couch in boredom. It was a rare day when both of you are at home, doing nothing but waiting for Tsumiki and Megumi who were both busy at school.

Gojo leaned forward and rested his chin on his palm. There was a smirk on his face that you usually have spotted miles away, but you were too busy reading. “Would you have married me if I was a worm?”

You flip another page. “To be honest, I was never considered marrying you until our clans put us together. This was an arranged marriage, remember?”

The exaggerated disbelief and on Gojo’s face was hilarious. His mouth was wide open, still not understanding how you could’ve answered him with a straight face while reading a children’s magazine. “Wha-“ he started but cut himself off. “But we love each other now right?”

“I suppose, yes.”

Gojo felt an eye twitch. How can you continue to have a conversation with him without even looking at him? This was only supposed to be a little ploy to gain your attention, but it has immediately evolved to something else. How can you find a magazine more interesting than him and the brilliant conversation starters he saw online? He is your husband! The love of your life! The strongest sorcerer and the one person you can’t live without. Gojo feels the sudden urge to compete with the magazine. “Then would you love me if I was a worm?”

“What is going on inside your head?” You ask exasperatedly, finally putting down the magazine.

“You never know!” Gojo protests, standing up and pointing at you. “What if a curse turned me into a worm? Would you still love me then?”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing your arms and leaving the abandoned magazine on your lap. “I thought you were the strongest. As if you’d let that happen.”

“Hypothetically!” He insists. “What I was fighting a special grade curse but then I got caught up thinking about all the things I love about you, like your butt or the way you hug me so nicely!” He watched your mouth gape in disbelief. “Then the curse sneaked up to me as I was distracted thinking about my beautiful wife and poof! I was a worm. Then you’d hear the doorbell ring and you’d open the door to see your sad, sad, sad worm husband hoping you’d still love him.”

"B-but," you stutter, still trying to understand where this is all coming from. "You'd be a worm."

"I'd still be me!" Gojo wails.

"Oh? How'd we have sex then? I'm not having sex with a worm."

Gojo pouted and shrugged. "I don't know, I can crawl up in there and wiggle or something-"

"That is just plain bestiality," you groan, covering your face with your hands. "And animal cruelty."

"But what about the kids!" Gojo dropped down to his knees dramatically and crawled to you.

"What about them? Tsumiki would probably accidentally step on you and Megumi'll laugh at your expense."

Gojo ignored you. "They'd come home and ask where I was and you'll have to explain how you kicked me out-"

"For being a worm." You helpfully added.

"For not loving me enough!" Gojo wailed, burying his head on your thighs. He shed enough tears for you to feel them seep through your leggings.

Ever so gently, Gojo felt you kiss the top of his head before lifting his face up with both hands on each cheek. "I do love you," you insisted, staring deep at his eyes. "I do. If-" You sigh, giving up to his whims. "If hypothetically, you do turn into a worm, I'd still keep you in a cup or something, but that wouldn't lessen my feelings Satoru. Is this what that's about?"

Gojo had to fight the smile on his face as you wiped a crocodile tear off his cheek. "Nah, just wanted to get your attention away from the magazine."

Gojo was almost too late in activating his Infinity before a punch with all the cursed energy you could muster came an inch away from his cheek. He cupped your face with his palms and gave your head a kiss before you could scream at him. "For the record, I would still love you if you were a worm."

And then he was gone, teleporting away to your favorite cafe that was three blocks away. He had to get you your favorite cake when he comes back home as an apology.

[ask-the-grown-up-spookeez]

aight ummmm.... hey Lila, can u tell us abt skid when he was a baby? embarrass him >:] -moth

Hmm?

wha- no no, mom please don’t-

Sure! One thing about him, he was real fussy about just about anything. Whether it be who was allowed to hold him or if someone else had my attention. He wouldn’t even let his father near me without breaking out in tears, heh.

Not to mention if you wanted to play with him, he’d either stare at you oddly or start wailing on the spot until I take him away.

[Skid just crossed his arms, looking down at the floor with a visible red hue spread across his face whilst Pump giggled to himself.]

[handcoversheart-76]

26 for reggie and alex but platonic please!

STELLAR choice queenie. and since you are my taylor swift buddie I will take that into account <3

bonus: touching feet and immediately screaming and recoiling (the way I didnt even PUT THIS IN THE FIC IM CRYING. I JUST COULDN'T WRITE ABT FEET WITH A STRAIGHT FACE! I hope you like it anyway!)

Maybe it was weird, but Alex is the type of person to have least favorite sounds. He feels like he's at least justified by the fact that he lives in a world where people deliberately scratch their nails on chalkboards. Other than that, Alex can't stand the sound of shoes squishing in mud, creaking doors, and hoarse throats- which he has a lot of experience with considering he's best friends with Luke.

But his least favorite sound of all time, literally in the whole world, is hearing his friends cry.

Call him soft, call him sensitive- it doesn't matter, he's heard it all before. He can't change what's true. When his friends are crying, it's like some alarm inside Alex goes blaring and all he wants to do is stop them, help them, make whatever's hurting them go away.

So when he pops into Julie's studio after his date and the first thing he hears are Reggie's muffled sniffles, he's instantly on alert.

"Reg?"

No answer.

Alex finds Reggie, tucked into a back corner against the wall, his knees against his chest. His cheeks are bright red, his eyes are wet, he's got his hands curled around himself.

Alex immediately drops to his knees by Reggie's side. "Reg- Reggie, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

There's a familiar panic building in his chest, tight frenzied worry in a tight ball sinking low in his stomach. His mind is already flipping through the possibilities- Where's Julie? Is she alright? Maybe Reggie's hurt? Can ghosts even get hurt? What if it's Caleb?

Reggie takes a deep shaky breath, blinking at Alex quickly. " 'Lex? Wha- you're back?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm back. What's going on? Can I touch you?"

Reggie's brow furrows like he's confused. He brings up an arm to wipe at his face, sniffling loudly. "Yeah, I'm okay Alex- I just-"

Reggie shifts and- oh.

In Alex's panic, he totally missed Julie's laptop which was next to him, open to Spotify, Luke's favorite app of the future, oh my god, Alex, it just plays the music you ask for-

"I was bored," Reggie explains, voice thick, "so I just put on some music and-"

"Oh Reg," Alex sighs, that tight panic fizzling out into exasperated fondness. "You listened to Folklore by yourself? You know what that does to you."

Reggie nods, biting his lip and in his head, Alex counts three beats before-

"She was just, 'don't want no other shade of blue but you-' what the heck am I supposed to do with that?" He wails and Alex tsks before pulling Reggie in and gently rubbing his back.

"Yeah. yeah I know Reg. I know." Alex says. "It's a great song."

Alex waits until Reggie has cried himself all out again, before letting him go. Now, the sight of Reggie with red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks merely makes Alex snicker. He stands and offers Reggie a hand.

"Come on, let's go find Luke and make him cry with us."

Reggie pauses, smiles, then takes Alex's hand to help him up.

[pokeshippingflashfic]

“You’re like, the best pillow” makes me think of all the times they fell asleep against each other bc of jigglypuff so I have to request. Doesn’t have to be abt a jigglypuff tho

It wasn’t the first time he’d been swallowed up by this unique source of warmth, though he was remiss to remember the specifics of the last time he’d felt it.

It’s was more intimate, more focused than the encompassing warmth that his sleeping bag gave him with its cotton and polyester blend, more direct and almost feverish. It seared where it touched and left almost abandoned, where it missed his flesh. It wasn’t the same burn he’d felt from any fire-type Pokemon though, nor did it bake like the hot sultry island sunshine he’d grown accustomed to in Alola.

It was a tender warmth that lulled and soothed and roused and anchored him, something that he’d felt to such a degree on a few separate occasions over the course of his journey, though most of them were quite short-lived by comparison.

Holding hands, once, twice, thrice, etc; a kiss or two to the cheek, one to the lips; thin, somehow delicate fingers clawing at his elbow, belonging to an Ursaring of a girl who claimed that ghosts were too much to handle; looping arms and dragging him down the street to keep her company; carrying him above frigid winter waves, one arm tucked around his back and another clutching his front while warm breath blew haphazardly against his neck and cheek…

The closest he could remember coming to this sensation however were the handful of times he’d been put to sleep against his will and had somehow mysteriously woken up leaning against a particular female friend of his.

An unbidden consideration crossed his mind for the first time… Why mysteriously…? Because he had an unconscious habit of standing closer to her than anyone else…?

Hmm… how curious.

He was too comfortable to snap awake the way he figured he should have, would have, at most any other time when his subconscious was taking him for such an eventful joyride so he took his time squinting his eyes tightly shut before easing them open, praying he wouldn’t be blinded by the morning sunlight.

Surprisingly, he was actually greeted by the semi-darkness of the Ketchum living room, illuminated just so by the overhead light ranging above the staircase leading to the second floor.

But, far more closely than that  realization was the sight of two blue-green eyes staring avidly down at him from straight above.

“Misty…” he murmured sleepily, instinctively. “Wha’cha… doin’ here?” And he released a deep yawn before easing his eyes closed again, a faint smile adorning his thin lips, as if there was no concern to be had over falling asleep in Misty Waterflower’s lap.

“What am I…? Ash Ketchum, you dummy!” she responded, just as reflexively, though she didn’t have it in her to fling him off of her so instead she just lightly kicked up her thigh enough to knock the sleep right out of him.

“Mwah!” he wailed in response, snapping into a sitting position and almost bumping foreheads with her. “Wha’d’ya do that for?!”

“You fell asleep on me, Mr. Pokemon Master! I should be asking you what you thought you were doing this whole time!” she exclaimed, arms crossing tightly over her chest and lips pursed into a frown as she glared daggers at him. “Also real smooth of you to forget I’ve been in your house for two days now!”

“Wait, wait… I did… I did what? Fell asleep? What was - what’s…”

The memory of him wandering down to the living room earlier that night, after two hours or so of tossing around in bed, too worked up for some reason to let true slumber claim him, flooded back as he stammered aloud. He also remembered Misty joining him about thirty minutes after, claiming that she too couldn’t find it in her to sleep, that she was used to being up late since becoming a gym leader, that she was excited to see her best friends again after so many months without.

They’d been watching television - he couldn’t even remember landing on a particular show, they’d just continued channel surfing and evading the rare case of endless static - and then…

He couldn’t remember anymore. Somehow, just like that, he’d apparently fallen fast asleep. But still, even if that was the case, things didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

“But how did I end up on your lap?”

“Wha…?” the redhead yelped, and he was proud to see her upper lip quivering as she was caught red-handed… Even though he had no idea what she was so upset about.

“I mean, I guess I was knocked out easier than I thought once I got down here but even if I fell on you or whatever, I shouldn’t’ve ended up with my head in your lap, right?”

“Wh - well, I…” Ah, now the tables had turned! It was rare for Ash to come out on top and he couldn’t help milking the opportunity when it arose. “You had so much trouble sleeping upstairs, remember? I figured, if you somehow were able to get some rest down here then… it would be best to let you… to help you, I guess.”

He eyed the stammering, flushing redhead with suspicion. There was no way she was being entirely honest about things. He couldn’t imagine a scenario where he would have fallen all the way down to her lap on his own, especially not without waking up…

But at the same time, whatever her secrets, he knew to at least be grateful that she’d left him to get his rest, that she’d helped him, as she so eloquently put it.

Whatever the situation, whatever the accusations, Misty had enough sense to not turn tail and run. As if she needed to give Ash more ammo to poke and prod at her nerves into the next day until she lost her temper. No, it was better to ward him off now, right? So she didn’t leave the couch. 

And Ash, who’d leaped back into a sitting position after she’d roughly nudged him with her knee, and who was now holding his neck with one hand and rolling his head to and fro from one shoulder to the other as if massaging any kinks he may have ended up with (but magically didn’t, as he was currently finding out), hadn’t run or even slightly backed away either, nor was he continuing to berate her with inquiries about how things had ended up the way they were.

What was that saying about small mercies…?

“S’weird how I was able to fall asleep so easily down here,” he went on next, arching his back into a deep stretch and then offering her his patented snarky grin, “Maybe you’re my good luck charm, Mist.”

“Ah…” She almost melted. She almost exploded. She almost gave herself away in one manner or another but she was able to withhold her knee-jerk response (minus a somewhat flattering splash of red to her cheeks) and instead gave back as good as she was getting. “Maybe I am then, huh?”

Ash’s grin faded slowly from his face. He didn’t look upset though, nor panicked that she wasn’t backing down. Instead he was gazing almost warily at her as if choosing which was the best route to take when continuing their borderline flirty conversation.

Perhaps he had grown up some since they’d last seen each other…

“Well, at least there’s one thing we learned from this, huh?” he began openly, gaze softening, not daring to look her directly in the eye. 

“Uh… huh. And what’s that, Mr. Pokemon Master?”

“You’re, like, the best pillow. I mean, ya’d have to be for me to fall asleep that easily, right? Hehe!”

“What are you…?” she began, faltering at his audacity. There was no if or but about this; Ash Ketchum was definitely flirting with her! To think he’d come so far after their time apart! She was so busy mentally traversing the avenues she might take to respond to this that she almost missed his next comment.

“But it was kinda unexpected, ya know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he began, and the catty grin on his face was enough to drain the color from hers because she absolutely knew exactly what was coming. “I just didn’t think someone as scrawny as you could be so comfortable!”

And then he took off running.

“You idiot…” she muttered furiously, on her feet instantaneously, the fire in her spirit renewed enough to chase him around the living room, even going so far as to leap over the back of the couch in her pursuit.

Trust that dummy Ash Ketchum to ruin a perfectly good mood!