Yeehawbrothers - Bat - Tumblr Blog

yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

Hi Mr.Haitch!

Do you have any tips for the more technical side of writing? Currently in uni and taking a comms/writing based class and my prof keeps docking points for grammar mistakes. Prof says my writing overall is fine, it’s just some grammar and punctuation mistakes but for the life of me I don’t get all these rules sometimes but i’m tryinggg i swear 🙏

Redraft, always. A first draft is just a sketch of ideas - it might be a very good sketch, but still just a sketch. Fine tune, rewrite, always aim to clarify. Stephen King got it dead-on when he said that you write your first draft of anything with the door closed: you're explaining it to yourself, in whatever way you understand it best at the time. When you redraft, you do it with the door open: trying to make sure everyone understands what you mean.

If it's a short piece of work, go through it once in silence and clean up. Then read it out loud. As I've explained to my students, we already know all the grammatical rules we need - if we didn't our speech would be unintelligible. Discard the technical terms and focus on clarity: does it sound right? Does it sound clear? Is it possible someone might misunderstand you? Reading out loud really helps.

If it's a long piece of work feed the text into a text to speech programme. You absolutely will find the snags if you sit and listen. I did that throughout my PHD and the change in my work was considerable.

Beyond that - the Elements of Style by Strunk and White is an incredible resource, and very, very short. Also start every assignment well before it's due to give yourself plenty of redraft and rewrite time.

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

One of the most frustrating things about ADHD is just the way that you absolutely cannot trust future you.

Like, I look at something and think "Oh, I'll deal with that later" like, no I won't. I absolutely won't. I should just do it now while I'm there. I should make plans to do something... Oh wait, will I have the energy to do that??? I was talking with a friend who told me I should come over for tea sometime, which I absolutely would love to do, but I said I was too tired. "Too tired for tea?" she asks. Like, no, I would love tea, but I'm too tired to know that I'll have the energy to get to the place and the only thing I hate worse than not doing things is being flaky on my friends.

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

geto ∩^ω^∩

ac: mossbun_

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

Blue

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

The amount of incest, noncon, and pedophilic jjk smut content is getting out of hand.

"Just scroll if you don't like it!" - this doesn't negate the fact they're posting disgusting scenarios. They're targeting an audience of people who should seek therapy. That kind of shit is not okay.

It's like saying "scroll part a zoophile account on Twitter if u don't like it." See how stupid it sounds?

This Fandom is slowly becoming one i regret being in because of just how disgusting people are becoming. Come on guys, do better.

It's okay to have kinks and fetishes, but that doesn't mean they're okay. It's not okay to sexualize minors, it's not okay to sexualizw little space, it's not okay to sexualize r//pe! I get dubcon, but noncon? That's literally just nonconsensual sex.

Anyways. Rant over. Do better, people.

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

♡♡Angst with nanami because this man thought of you before he died ♡♡

The air was thick with the ruin of Shibuya, yet, for Kento Nanami, it had never felt lighter. He wasn’t in the desolate streets, nor surrounded by curses and shattered remnants of humanity. No, in his mind, he was far from here—far from this city, far from pain, from death. He was in Malaysia, on a sun-drenched beach where the world was simple, and the weight of life had slipped away, unnoticed. And you were there. Always, you were there.

In the clarity of his mind, you danced—graceful and unburdened, as if the very ocean had learned its rhythm from you. “I’ve always imagined her in front of me," Nanami thought, his lips barely moving with the words. "Twirling across the sand, laughing softly as the waves kissed her feet. That laugh, so gentle, like the sound of water lapping the shore—something eternal."

Mahito's blows landed with the force of fate, cruel and inescapable, but Nanami did not feel them. His body was breaking, yes, but it was as if he’d traded his senses for something better—a dream so vivid it seemed real. You were twirling before him, your hands outstretched, hair catching the wind, and Nanami thought he might reach you, might hold you, if only he took one more step.

He smiled faintly, his blood-soaked mouth twitching as his thoughts carried him further from the battlefield. “We spoke about forever, didn’t we? About a little home nestled near the sea, where the world’s burdens couldn’t reach us.” He could almost hear your voice now, warm like the sun, speaking of nothing but trivialities—what to cook for dinner, whether to walk or swim tomorrow. The small, unimportant details of a life free from the strain of duty.

Another blow landed. His body lurched forward, but in his mind, he was walking beside you. How strange, he thought, to have wanted something so desperately—peace, simplicity—and to be so close now, only to feel it slip through his fingers. "How cruel," he might have whispered, had the words found breath.

Mahito's strikes came faster now, and Yuuji watched in horror as Nanami’s body was broken before him. The younger sorcerer screamed his name, but Nanami wasn’t there. He was at the edge of something beautiful and irrevocable, the edge of eternity, where the life he dreamed of waited like a ghost—faint, unreachable.

But something tugged at him, pulling him back. Not enough to save him, only enough to remind him of the truth. “She’s waiting for me,” he thought, and the words became a desperate litany. “She’s waiting… she’s waiting…”

And she was. In that dream of Malaysia, where the sun was golden and the waves never stopped moving, you waited for him. But as Nanami blinked through the blood and the haze, reality began to bleed through. Shibuya returned. The screams, the curses, the destruction. The life he would never have.

“Nanami! NANAMI!”

Yuuji’s voice was desperate now, shaking him from the dream, ripping away the illusion. Nanami looked up, his eyes no longer clouded by hope or fantasy but by something heavier. The weight of his failure, the weight of goodbye. He would never walk that beach with you, would never see the future he’d promised. But in those final moments, it didn't matter.

He smiled at Yuuji, the remnants of the dream still clinging to him like salt on his skin, and with the last of his breath, he gave the only truth he had left.

“I leave the rest to you"

The dream was over. The beach was gone. You would always be waiting. But now, Nanami realized he would never make it.

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

jjk smau: just a nibble! (you bite them)

ft. gojo, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna, nobara, megumi, yuuji

cw: suggestive content

this is so silly. sorry for the minor disappearance, life got crazy. hopefully more stable uploads from now on!

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

gojo comeback gojo comeback gojo comeback

gojo comeback gojo comeback

gojo comeback gojo comeback gojo comeback

gojo comeback

gojo comeback gojo comeback gojo comeback

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

writing “MDNI” while writing smut about literal MINORS is actually wild.

“but they’re aged up.” that’s not even- bro. canonically they’re minors, AND we’ve never seen them as adults. so any visuals you have of them is of their current canon age, A MINOR. 🗣️

Tags :

writerscommunity im going insane jjk fanfiction jjk x reader jjk smau jjk smut megumi x reader yuji x reader toge x reader x reader diddy who?

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

Why do writers apologize for long fics? why aRE YOU SORRY FOR FEEDING US POOR, SORRY SOULS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ARTWORK WE COULD EVER DREAM OF READING?? DO MICHELIN STAR CHEFS APOLOGIZE FOR COOKING THE MOST DIVINE FOOD EVER MADE??? DO THEY APOLOGIZE FOR NOURISHING OUR BODY AND SOULS????

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

"...alright. Just the usual ones? Night time too...and tampons. Don't ever apologise. Alright. We'll be home soon. I love you."

The mid-morning traffic, less frantic now than an hour before, shhhaaaahed around the car. From the passenger seat, Yuuji watched Kento with a fascination about to bubble over with suppressed laughter. Kento put the phone down. Yuuji, just a boy, grinned, almost teasingly at Kento.

"Tampons, huh, Nanamin?"

Kento looked to Yuuji, flicking the windscreen wipers on to rid the screen of drifting cherry blossom. His face remained neutral, sincerely questioning. Yuuji scoffed, bold as brass, before continuing.

"Jeez Nanamin...you're such a simp."

Kento's eyes narrowed, searching for meaning. He repeated, slowly, the word unfamiliar upon his tongue.

"...'simp'."

"You'd do anything for her, right?"

"Is that...a bad thing? You say the word, not that I know it, as if it's derogatory."

Kento tapped on his phone, and Yuuji backpedaled, his grin sliding away to a wide-mouthed grimace as he waved his hands in a fit of no, wait, I can explain. Kento appeared to be reading, his face growing dour. He huffed, one short puff of air from his nose. He tucked his phone away.

"Ah-- Nanamin-- I didn't mean--"

"A simp, hmm? Alright. Come along, Yuuji."

They drove. Yuuji bit his nails as he stared out into traffic. Kento was silent, calm.

And Kento took Yuuji on errands.

At the Conbini, Kento collected pads, tampons, snacks and pain relief.

"Do you have any of the night time ones?" Kento asked the assistant, holding up a pack of pads, unashamed, as Yuuji tried to sink into the floor, just a boy. As the assistant walked away, Kento asked Yuuji, calmly.

"Would a simp do this?"

"Ah...jeez, I...yeah, I guess so."

"Alright."

In the Florist's, Kento was meticulous with the sweating assistant, identifying only the finest blooms of your favourite wildflowers. He commandeered, insisting they were wrapped in brown paper, stamped with wax and tied with ribbons. Tapping his fingers on the counter, bored, Yuuji's reverie was once more broken by Kento's smooth timbre.

"Would a simp do this?"

Kento walked up beside Yuuji, with a spray of sweet botanicals in his arms. Yuuji squirmed beneath the schooling.

"Yeah, I...I reckon so. Probably."

"Splendid. Come along."

At the launderette, collecting your repaired jacket; "Would a simp do this?"

At your parents' house, dropping off a birthday card; "Would a simp do this?"

At Jujutsu High, filing some late paperwork for you; "Would a simp do this?"

In the car, calling Ijichi to cancel drinks the following night; "Would a simp do this?"

By the time Kento had completed his errands, Yuuji sulked, just a boy, begrudging how overboard Kento had gone, all because Yuuji had used slang that meant nothing apart from something Kento couldn't understand.

Yuuji stood back in the hallway, shucking his shoes off, as Kento walked ahead.

Yuuji's eyes darted up, to you, shocked to see that you were...a mess. You could hide the tears all you liked, but your puffy lips and salt-sore cheeks told of a whole day of crying. The dinner Yuuji usually enjoyed wasn't made. The fragrant candles that Yuuji usually enjoyed weren't lit. The curtains were closed.

Yuuji felt vicariously guilty for something he had not done, but he listened to yours and Kento's mumbled conversation.

"...sorry...so shit...haven't done anything...needed you...Yuuji must be hungry, I..."

"...shhh...done nothing wrong...Ijichi cancelled tomorrow anyway...order take-out...come here..."

Kento held you in a rustle of bags and brown-papered flowers. He did not begrudge the tear stains on his lapels. He looked at you as though your very blood ran divine, when you gave the flowers and bag of snacks a watery smile, pressing a salty kiss to Kento's cheeks before walking to the kitchen.

As Kento and Yuuji stood back, watching you swipe your tears away before beginning to fill a vase with Kento's wildflowers, Yuuji dawned upon the cusp of a bold new understanding. Kento felt it, this gentle yearning, and took Yuuji by the hand over the horizon.

Kento's voice was, slow, considered, and gut-wrenchingly sincere.

"Never deny yourself the beauty of loving someone without restraint, for the fear of vulnerability, Yuuji. Never let anyone taint the way love should guide and consume you. Because if loving wholeheartedly is weakness...you shouldn't want to be strong."

Yuuji watched the gentle golden thread of joy that Kento had woven through your sadness. He shuffled, his hands in his pockets, his peachy head tilted down as he kicked at his shoes.

"...yeah, I get you. I'll... I'll be a simp too, then. When I find the one. And...and I'll be proud of it."

Kento smiled, pressing a bag of snacks to Yuuji's chest.

"And I'll be proud of you."

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

can we please just have a reader who doesn’t forgive and forget and argues back because I’m sick of having to forgive stupid men against my will.

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

how I feel when the reader is described having long blonde hair

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

pls put an age in your blog

hey gang,

so i put that im a college student in my bio which i figure is enough. I’m in college. i’m over 18.

im just not comfortable putting my specific age is all.

anyways,

thx for the ask 👍🏻

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS: GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS: GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

“suguru, help!” he sounds, pathetic. gojo satoru is a pathetic man when it comes to you. “ . . . there are so many kisses to have, soul and bone for you to crash and swear that how stars are born, so please. . ., believe me, you have to believe me,” he cries, holding your hands, begging for you to love him— love him enough to stay.

warning : age-up! satosugu, depressed! fem x reader, drug mention, trauma mention, suicide, self-harm, death mention, drowning, blood, heavy angst.

w/c : 6,2k | [☆] MASTERLIST

𝜗𝜚 . . . . i had to stop so often writing this because i can't stop crying and think that i shouldn't continue because it hurts me so bad that i have to take a cold shower and think about my life. and honestly, i wasn't supposed to write the last part but yeah..

A MINUTES AFTER YOU TRY TO KILL YOURSELF

it was too quiet. . .

gojo satoru never screams so loud in his entire life, so loud. . . the world shaking beneath his feet, ready to swallow him whole and rotten. so loud . . . he sure he can no longer hear. he ran, slipping on his way until he broke his knee on the puddle of the red, transparent liquid that spill from the bath-up.

the starling sigh, you were there. . .

“no, no, no, baby— no.”

the water, tinged with a haunting crimson, surged and overflowed, cascading into the bathroom with relentless force. it climbed steadily up gojo's legs, as if the liquid itself sought to ensnare him, to drag him down into its suffocating embrace, or just. . . mock him.

a dark mockery that seemed to whisper that it alone held the power to drown him, to swallow your trembling breaths and the last echoes of your voice. it wasn’t him, or geto suguru who was to be your executioner, but the merciless water, eager to claim your final, stutter breath.

“i-i —sorry, i’m sorry..” you stammered.

your voice stammered between choke, barely a murmur beneath the frothy waves, struggled to be heard amidst the tumult. your eyes, devoid of warmth, reflected a chilling detachment. the coldness in your gaze was almost tangible, a stark contrast to the chaotic, drowning world around you.

“suguru, help!” he sounds, pathetic.

gojo, even on the verge of your death is still so gentle, as if he's afraid you are going to die than you already are. dropping on his knees as he tries to pull your warm bodies out of the bath-up.

gojo shook his head, a soft whisper escaping from his trembling lips, “shhh, it's alright baby, it's alright, you're alright,” his mumble, each word a fragile promise against the storm of his own emotions— words and voice shaking, his bones and soul shivering. his strong arm wraps around your body, pulling you closer to his chest, feeling everything, even as his flesh trembling.

tears cascaded from the corner of your eyes, tracing silken paths down your skin, while his embrace, though trembling, sought to cradle and calm you, a sanctuary against the turbulence of your anguish.

“suguru, please help!” again, this time he shouted.

geto runs upon hearing the horror howling, and his purple irises about to peel from his face and his lungs lose air— ragged gasps, as if each inhale were stolen from him. the scene before him struck with a painful clarity: you nestled within gojo’s embrace, your body wracked with distress.

foaming at the mouth, you appeared trapped in a tormenting grip of anguish, while the open scars on your wrist bled stories of suffering and desperation. in that moment, the sight was both heart-wrenching and surreal, a vivid tableau of fear and pain, painted across the canvas of his deepest fears.

“i'm sorry— i-i'm so sorry,” you whisper between choking gasps as geto kneels beside you and your body shaking. tears cascade uncontrollably, each dropping a shimmering testament to a sudden, overwhelming regret. it is as though a profound realization has swept over you, too late to mend the wounds that have been inflicted.

the regret feels like a bitter aftertaste of the sorrow you can no longer escape. the eyes of those around you, trembling with the weight of their own anguish, are bloodshot and haunting, mirroring the crimson that flows from your wrist. in that agonizing moment, the world feels irrevocably broken, and the fleeting desire to be alive seems like a distant, unreachable dream.

they burst from the bathroom, gojo's arms wrapped tightly around you as he dashes through the chaos. your lifeless feet and hands dangle, a heavy, haunting reminder of the blood seeping steadily onto the floor. each drop forms a macabre trail, like the relentless shadow of death that clings to you, a grim companion refusing to let go.

the crimson stains splatter and pool in your wake, an anguished testament to the finality that now seems inevitable— each red stain on the ground is a haunting reminder, a stark declaration. as they run, the blood's mournful descent weaves a sorrowful narrative of moments slipping away, each drop a poignant echo of what might have been, a stark and unyielding declaration that time has run out, that it is too late.

and suddenly, everything feels like a slow motion.

6 HOUR AFTER YOU TRY TO KILL YOURSELF

the doctor spoke with a grave tone, his words laced with concern. “it appears,” he began, looking at gojo who's just sitting there with his eyes focusing on the floor, meanwhile geto standing beside him. “that she intentionally tried to overdose. we've had to act swiftly to pump the substances from her body, working to counteract the severe effects of her actions.”

geto's hand gently gripping on gojo's shoulder as they listen. his expression was one of solemn seriousness, reflecting the urgency and gravity of the situation. “we've done everything we can to stabilize her, but it's crucial that you two understand the seriousness of what she has done. this was a life-threatening situation, and we're only beginning to address the underlying issues that led to this crisis.”

the doctor continued, his voice carrying a mix of relief and concern. “fortunately, the cut on her wrist wasn't too deep,” he said, his eyes scanning the notes before them. “it seems that the severity of the injury was somewhat mitigated by her weakened state from the drugs. if she had been stronger, the outcome might have been different.”

his tone softened, acknowledging the fragile balance between the danger of the overdose and the mitigating effects of your physical condition. “we've managed to address the immediate threats, but it's crucial to understand that this is a serious wake-up call. we need to work on her recovery and the emotional struggles that led to this moment.”

if she had been stronger, the outcome might have been different,’ the words echoed repeatedly, hauntingly through the air, like a broken record stuck on a painful refrain. once, twice, three times, they reverberated through their minds, each repetition a stark reminder of how close they came to losing you, how dangerously close the edge of despair was.

even the notion of ‘almost’ carried a weight too immense to bear, a heavy presence that pressed down on their hearts. the silence that followed was thick with unspoken guilt and anguish; none of them could find the words to bridge the chasm of their shared grief. they avoided each other's gaze, unable to escape the silent blame that hung heavy between them, a suffocating testament to their collective sense of failure.

gojo stared at his hands through the thin veil of his blindfold, his fingers trembling as they traced the dried blood staining his pale skin. the sight of it was a brutal reminder of you. with a strained effort, he clenched his hands tightly, hoping to meld the dried blood with his own, as if to erase the haunting evidence of what had transpired— his last hope trying to be with you.

each breath felt like a desperate gasp, a small gap forming between his lips as he struggled to draw in air. the sensation of suffocation gripped him, a relentless pressure squeezing his chest, making each inhale a battle. despite his efforts, the air seemed insufficient, leaving him feeling as though he were on the precipice of life, teetering on the brink of an abyss that threatened to swallow him whole.

geto felt an overwhelming tide of guilt and anguish, a heavy weight pressing down on his heart. the scene that unfolded before him replayed in his mind like a relentless, agonizing loop, hunting him down like he is some kind of a fucking prey. he was haunted by the sight of your suffering, the image of your blood-streaked hands and the anguished cries that pierced the air. each moment of his own reflection, seeing the remnants of your blood on his skin and his white shirt, deepened his torment.

the sense of responsibility gnawed at him, a constant reminder of how close he came to losing you. he felt suffocated by a profound sorrow and helplessness, as if the very air around him was too thick, leaving him gasping for breath— like the death itself pointing its ugly fucking finger to his face and laugh at him, at them.

what a fucking pathetic man’ the death must be said.

the weight of the situation settled heavily on his shoulders, and the silence between him and his companions only amplified his inner turmoil. the unspoken blame and the aching realization that he couldn't undo what had happened created a chasm of despair within him, making each moment feel like an eternity of unbearable remorse.

both of them are buried in profound sea of grief, guilt, shame because a thousand moments with you that they take for granted— shame, for thinking, assume that there would be a thousand more. is it too selfish to be here?’ they thought.

that curse must be laughing at them, the higher-ups, everyone— pointing their finger from all directions. look at them, ’ they thought, those two who called themselves the strongest can even save a single soul,’ again they must be laughing, let alone a soul who is to be called the love of their life.

but nobody knows, none, not even a single soul that, oh, how your presence evokes such selflessness in them— even amid their silent, tormented reflections. they are consumed by an incessant questioning of the selfishness of their own sorrow, wondering if it is wrong to cling to their grief while you teeter on the precipice of loss.

the haunting thought persists, a cruel reminder of time's fragile nature and the profound depth of their remorse. in their heartache, they are acutely aware of the contrast between their own suffering and the delicate balance of your existence, each moment of their anguish a poignant testament to the sorrow they feel for having taken so much for granted.

is it okay to feel sad? ’ they thought.

even the very sensation of sadness and grief feels like an indulgence they do not deserve. i can't even protect her, what rights do i fucking deserve to be sad?’ they thought. to them, these emotions seem an opulent luxury, an extravagant gift they are not entitled to. in their hearts, the depth of their sorrow feels almost excessive, a poignant reminder of how their suffering pales in comparison to the magnitude of the almost loss they face.

each wave of grief feels like a grand, unwelcome opulence, an unjust reward for the pain they have caused and the moments they have squandered. the luxury of their sadness seems a cruel irony, a stark contrast to the profound emptiness of the reality they must now confront.

people passing by in front of them, throwing them a glance or two. seeing their red eyes and tears-stain cheeks, blood in their hands, in shirts, in pants, in their soul, laid bare. everyone wants to give them both a pat on the back, telling them that they are good at handling grief; howling, crying, and blaming each other. that's the proper way to handle grief.

18 HOUR AFTER YOU TRY TO KILL YOURSELF

your hands are warm, a stark contrast to the pallor of your pink lips, which have lost their vibrant hue, your eyes open still so retain their gentle softness, a quiet testament to the grace you still hold.

as you lie upon the hospital bed, draped in the drab, floral-patterned gown that clings to you, it feels woefully inadequate. the gown, mundane and worn, seems too insipid and shabby to encompass your beauty, too faded and forlorn.

“i'm sorry. . .” you mumble.

you can’t bring yourself to look at them as they sit beside your bed, their eyes red and swollen from sleepless nights, their uniforms crumpled and disheveled, their hair falling in untamed disarray. their faces have lost their vibrant hue, a stark contrast to their usual vitality.

gojo satoru’s once-brilliant blue eyes, which used to shimmer with an unyielding light, now seem dull and lifeless, even when the golden sunlight spills over them. the sunlight, which once might have enhanced the beauty of his gaze with its warm orange tones, now only serves to highlight the emptiness that has replaced his once-sparkling eyes— it's dull, it's dull, it is fucking dull.

geto suguru's strikingly handsome face is graced with a smile, tender and achingly gentle, as though he is pouring all his effort into offering you a sliver of solace. his lips tremble with a subtle quiver, betraying the deep sadness that lingers beneath his calm exterior. his once-vibrant purple irises have dimmed, their former brilliance faded to a shadow of their former selves.

you fear that they might darken further, losing their hue altogether, slipping into a void of despair where even color seems to vanish. the sight of his sorrowful eyes, so devoid of their usual spark, reflects a profound sadness that pierces the heart, a silent testament to the emotional toll of the moment.

oh, what i have done. . .’ you thought.

“don't, please don't,” gojo pleads, his voice trembling as he clasps your unharmed hand with a desperate grip. his blindfold has been removed, revealing eyes that are filled with raw, unfiltered emotion as he gazes at you. beside him, geto's hand rests gently at the back of your head, his touch tender and soothing. he caresses your hair with a featherlight motion, his thumb brushing softly over your scalp.

“we are so sorry for taking you for granted,” he murmurs, the words heavy with regret and sorrow. “we are sorry for offering you only a lukewarm love, when you deserved a love that was fierce and all-consuming, a love that burned brightly and fiercely. i'm sorry,” his voice wavers, each word an echo of their deep remorse, as they both grapple with the weight of their unspoken apologies and the profound realization of what they failed to give you.

they do not seek to question why your soul bleeds, nor do they dare to unravel the dark tapestry of your pain. the blood, flowing with a steady, silent, and disturbingly deliberate pace, engulfs you in its relentless embrace. it seeps into every corner of your being, a somber tide that threatens to consume you entirely.

they find themselves unable to confront this harrowing reality, their hearts too burdened to bear the weight of such a painful inquiry. the sight of your suffering leaves them paralyzed, unable to utter the questions that linger in their minds, as they grapple with the profound helplessness of watching you slowly succumb to the encroaching shadows.

“i love you, baby,” gojo whispers, “i'm sorry that you're in so much pain so to think death is the only salvation,” he stopped for a second, cocooning your hand with his large one before resting his cheek against. “i'm sorry i didn't notice your rage for the world and too busy loving you. does my love scare you, love? that's why you decided to leave, hm?” his voice shaking, lips quivering.

“if you are angry, stab me a little so you can feel better, make it hurt, i don't care. a little suffering would be worth it if it's by your hands, by your pretty little hands,” he murmured against your skin, his breath a warm whisper that sent shivers across your body. each word was a soft plea, wrapped in a tone that trembled with both desperation and tenderness.

his trembling lips pressed gently against your hand, each kissing a fleeting starburst of warmth against your cool skin. him— no they, stood ready to endure your pain, inviting you to inflict upon them the hurt you felt.

they stand poised to let you sink your teeth into them, to delve into their very flesh. to let you open them up, laid bare and vulnerable, just to offer you a chance to heal. just so they can love you a little too much, starving even— like a flesh begging to be knitting together over a wound. ruin me, ruin us, and we will let you.

“i love you, i love you, i love you,” he gave you stars in each between. they fucking love you like a rotten dog. “believe me when i said this. . . there are so many kisses to have, soul and bone for you to crash and swear that how stars are born, so please. . ., believe me, you have to believe me,” he cries, holding your hands, begging for you to love him— love him enough to stay, “we love you.”

he finally said we’ geto thought.

at first glance, people might assume that geto suguru’s love for you surpasses that of gojo satoru, that his love is somehow greater. yet, the truth remains that it has always been gojo satoru who harbors the most profound and boundless love for you from the very beginning. his love is vast, immense, and utterly astonishing, stretching beyond the horizons of understanding.

gojo’s devotion is a vast expanse, a love so deep and wide that it seems to defy the very limits of emotion. even geto suguru, who himself is capable of immense love, finds himself awestruck and somewhat intimidated by the sheer magnitude of gojo’s feelings. no one can truly grasp the depth of gojo’s love—not even gojo himself—such is the overwhelming, almost incomprehensible nature of his heart’s boundless devotion to you.

and sometimes it scares the shit out of geto.

but maybe, just maybe, they have a little too much love for you more than for each other, even more than for themselves— as if you make a space in their ribs, and call it home country.

30 HOUR AFTER YOU TRY TO KILL YOURSELF

geto stirred from a restless sleep, his head resting gently against your hospital bed, nestled close to your side. as he slowly opened his eyes, he was met with the soft, gentle sight of you gazing at him, a faint, tender smile gracing your lips. the serene moment, bathed in the quiet of the hospital room, brought a flicker of warmth to his weary heart, a small but profound comfort amid the lingering shadows of their shared sorrow.

“hey sunshine,” geto whispered in a hoarse croak, reaching a hand to brush your hair away from your face, “how long have you been awake?”

“long enough to notice the dark circles under your eyes and the tear stains on your cheeks,” you replied softly, your fingers brushing gently against his cheek, your thumb tenderly caressing the worn skin. geto hummed, his hand capturing yours and guiding your palm to his lips, where he planted a gentle kiss.

the touch of your skin was like a salve, soothing the ache in his weary soul. he chuckled weakly. his eyes were tired and his skin pale, but your touch made him feel alive. “you’re too observant for your own good,” he teased, his lips curving into a weary smile.

geto shifted in his chair, wincing slightly as his body protested the movement. he settled into a more comfortable position, still holding your hand in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your knuckles.

he studied your face, taking in every detail, from the delicate flutter of your eyelashes to the subtle flush in your cheeks. the sight of you, even in this vulnerable state, filled his heart with a mixture of tenderness and protectiveness.

“how are you feeling?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, his gaze fixed on your face. he knew it was a question he had asked before, but he couldn’t help himself. he needed to hear you speak, hear your voice, just to reassure himself that you were still with him.

“like shit,” you answer.

your hand is still gently cupping his cheek, thumb running low across his skin in a loving manner. at your blunt response, geto's lip curled into a soft smile. even in your weakened state, you still had a defiant spark.

he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the sensation. “i thought we agreed no profanity,” he teased, his voice laced with affectionate humor, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against the palm of your hand in a tender kiss.

“you’ve always been a bad influence on me,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and ticklish. he chuckled softly, his eyes softening as he studied your face.

he took a moment to compose his words, his expression growing serious. “there was a moment,” he began, his voice a hoarse whisper, “a moment when i thought i lost you.”

your smile faltered, and your eyes softened with concern as you listened to the gravity in his voice. you reached up to gently touch his cheek again, your thumb brushing away the remnants of his sadness.

“i’m here now,” you whispered, your voice steady but filled with warmth. “you haven’t lost me.” you looked deeply into his eyes, trying to convey with your gaze the depth of your presence and the promise of your unwavering support. “and i’m not going anywhere,” you added softly, hoping to soothe the lingering fear in his heart.

his hand covers yours, holding it against his cheek as he closes his eyes, relishing in your soothing touch. for a moment, he just allows himself to bask in your presence, letting the warmth and comfort wash over him.

“i was afraid i wouldn’t get to hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice growing thicker with emotion. he opened his eyes, the raw vulnerability in his gaze bared to you, his heart laid bare.

your heart ached at the sight of his vulnerability. you gently squeezed his hand, your voice trembling with sincerity as you spoke. “i’m so sorry,” you said softly, your eyes filled with compassion.

geto’s thumb traced gentle, small circles on the back of your hand. “you have nothing to apologize for,” he assured you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “it was my responsibility to keep you safe, and i failed.”

the guilt and regret in his voice were palpable, the weight of his self-imposed responsibility clear. he lowered his gaze, wrestling with emotions that were etched deeply into every line of his weary face.

he lifted your hand from his cheek, bringing it to his lips and pressing a lingering kiss against your knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours. “i just need you to know how much you mean to me,” he added, his voice cracking slightly. his grip on your hand tightened, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.

geto’s lips continued to brush against your knuckles as he spoke, soft and gentle. his eyes held yours captive, the depth of his affection bared for you to see.

“you are my everything,” he confessed, his voice hoarse with the weight of his honesty. “the thought of losing you, of living in a world where you don’t exist…” he trailed off, a pained expression crossing his features. he was torn between the love that engulfed his heart and the fear that threatened to consume him.

geto drew in a shaky breath, composing himself as best he could. he lifted his gaze from your hand, meeting your eyes once again. his expression held a mixture of love and devotion, but also a hint of desperation.

“i need you to know that no matter what, i will do everything in my power to protect you,” he vowed, his voice steady despite the turbulent emotions raging within him. “not just because it’s my duty, but because i love you more than i thought it was possible to love someone.”

you met his gaze with a warm, reassuring smile, the depth of your gratitude shining through. “thank you,” you said softly, your voice imbued with genuine appreciation. your smile was a reflection of the profound comfort and reassurance you felt, a silent promise to stand together through whatever lay ahead.

geto’s eyes softened at your smile, a flicker of relief passing over his weary face. he squeezed your hand gently, his touch both appreciative and protective.

he studied your face for a moment, his gaze lingering on each contour, each freckle and line, as if to further commit them to memory. “don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured, mostly in jest, but with an underlying current of seriousness.

gojo entered the room, his expression a mix of relief and lingering concern as he carried a bag of your belongings. upon seeing the tender moment between you and geto, his eyes softened, though they carried a hint of the exhaustion and worry that had shadowed him. he set the bag down and approached, took a sit at the edge on the other side of your bed, his voice catching slightly as he spoke.

“don’t scare me like that again too,” he said, his tone gentle but tinged with the weight of his emotions. his gaze met yours with a blend of earnestness and relief. “i know suguru’s been holding on tight, but i’ve been right here, too. seeing you like this... it’s been hard on all of us. please, don't leave us.” his words were a heartfelt plea, an echo of the concern and love he carried for you, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the strength of his devotion.

geto’s grip on your hand tightened momentarily at the sound of gojo’s voice, his eyes darting towards his best friend. he could hear the exhaustion and worry that laced gojo’s words and knew all-too-well the weight of the responsibility they shared.

he turned his gaze back to you, his expression a mix of worry and relief. his thumb resumed its gentle, soothing circles on the back of your hand. “yeah,” he said in agreement, his voice gruff with emotion. “please, don’t scare us like that again.”

gojo’s presence brought with it a sense of familiarity, a comfort that was both grounding and reassuring. he reached out and placed a gentle hand on your arm, his touch a silent expression of his affection and concern.

he studied your face, his eyes tracing every contour, every line, as if to commit the sight to memory. “how are you feeling?” he asked, his voice softer now, though still tinged with worry. “i wanna say like shit but suguru said no profanity,” you puff a little chuckle.

geto gives a little scoff at your comment, his expression laced with a mixture of annoyance and affection. he rolls his eyes playfully and mutters, “you’re such a bad influence.”

gojo’s lips curled into a small smirk before he turned his gaze back to you, the lines around his eyes creasing with a mix of amusement and relief. “can’t have you talking like that,” he teased, his words light but carrying a hint of genuine concern.

gojo studying your face carefully before speaking ever so softly, “well, apart from the obviously crappy mood geto’s been in, you look good. your color is better.” he noticed a faint crimson crushed on your cheeks, a little pink on your lips.

he reached his hand out to smooth a strand of hair away from your forehead, his touch light and tender. his gaze wandered from your face to where geto still held your hand, his eyes reflecting a subtle hint of appreciation.

geto watched gojo's gentle touch, his grip on your hand unconsciously tightening a little bit in response. his expression was a mixture of protectiveness and vulnerability, his eyes betraying the fear and worry that still tugged at his heart.

he took the moment to observe the soft interplay of emotions between you and gojo, the easy familiarity and the deep bond that existed between you all. he could sense the weight of gojo's concern as he studied your face, the care and attention in his touch.

gojo's voice was soft as he continued, his gaze still fixed on your face. “so, how are you feeling, for real?” he asked, his tone a gentle echo of geto's earlier question. “any pain? any discomfort?”

geto looked at you, his eyes silently pleading for you to be honest. he was hanging off your every word, each response a small insight into your well-being.

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their concern pressing down on you. meeting gojo’s gentle gaze and then turning to geto’s silent plea, you spoke with a mixture of remorse and honesty. “i’m sorry,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “i’m sorry for how i handled things. i know i should have talked to you both, but i didn’t—i tried to take matters into my own hands without thinking it through first.”

your eyes reflected a deep sense of shame and regret as you continued. “i actually feel like absolute shit right now, and i’m ashamed of myself for thinking i could find a quick solution without considering the impact it would have on you both.” you looked at them, hoping your words conveyed the depth of your remorse and the sincerity of your apology, wanting them to understand that your actions were not a reflection of your feelings for them, but rather a moment of misguided desperation.

gojo's expression softened with understanding, his eyes filled with compassion. he knew the weight of your words, the regret and shame that clung to them. he reached his hand back to your arm, his touch gentle and reassuring.

geto's gaze was a mix of surprise and relief as he processed your apology. his hand around yours tightened slightly, his thumb tracing reassuring circles on your skin. “it's okay,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “we all have moments of weakness. what matters is that you're here, safe and alive.”

you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you at their responses, their understanding and compassion a balm to your wounded spirit. “thank you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “thank you for not being angry with me and for not questioning me right away. i know i made a terrible mistake, and i’m grateful you’re here, supporting me instead of condemning me.”

geto's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes filled with a complex mixture of emotions— relief, love, and a hint of lingering fear. he shook his head gently, a reassuring smile on his lips.

gojo chuckled softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and playfulness. “we can save the anger and lecturing for when you’re not looking so terrible,” he joked, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “and trust me, baby, i had a lot of choice colorful words for you when the right time comes,” he lean in to kiss your forehead, “but right now, we just trying to be here for you.”

geto nodded in agreement, his grip on your hand still tight. he couldn’t help but roll his eyes a bit at gojo's playfulness, but there was a hint of fondness beneath the feigned annoyance.

he leaned in, reaching out with his other hand to gently brush a strand of hair off your forehead. “you are a stubborn, reckless, and stubborn pain in the ass,” he scolded lightly, his tone a soft but affectionate mix.

gojo chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners with humor. he settled himself closer, his hand still resting lightly on your arm. “he's right, you know,” he chimed in, his smile wide. “you're very good at pushing our buttons and getting under our skin.”

geto's lips curled into a small smile, his expression a mixture of feigned anger and affection. “and you're even better at making us worry,” he added, his tone light but underlined with the gravity of their concern. “but we care about you more than anything,” he added, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “so you better not do something like that again, you hear me?” his voice held a hint of authority, but mostly it was filled with love and concern.

geto's smile grew a bit wider, his eyes crinkling endearingly at the corners. “yeah,” he said, his voice firm. “you better listen. we don’t need anymore of these near-death experiences from you.”

gojo chimed in enthusiastically, leaning in a bit closer. “yeah, cause let me tell you, i can’t handle any more gray hairs than i already have.”

geto's grip on your hand tightened again, his expression a mix of sternness and vulnerability. he looked at you intently, his gaze locking with yours. “he's right,” he echoed, his voice firm but filled with warmth and care. “no more reckless decisions. no more putting yourself in danger. you hear us, my love?”

gojo nodded in agreement, his expression serious but eyes softened with concern. he added, “yeah, we can't keep having our hearts in our throats like this. it's not good for our health, you know.” geto's hand caressed your arm gently, a silent plea for your understanding. “we just want you safe and sound. that’s all we ask.”

a hint of vulnerability flashed across geto's face, his expression betraying the weight of his words. he locked eyes with you, his gaze filled with a mixture of pleading and sincerity.

“we just want to know that you're safe,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “that you're not recklessly endangering yourself anymore.”

gojo leaned in closer, his hand resting on your arm lightly. “we can't bear the thought of something happening to you again,” he chimed in, his tone carrying an undercurrent of worry.

they continued to exchange tender words and earnest pleas, their voices overlapping in a chorus of concern and affection. each spoke fervently about their love and the lengths they would go to ensure your safety and happiness. their words, though filled with their own fears and frustrations, were underscored by a deep, unwavering care for you.

as you watched them, a soft smile touched your lips. their earnest devotion, their refusal to let you face this alone, filled you with a profound sense of comfort and gratitude. you could see their love in every gesture and hear it in every word, and it warmed your heart. despite the gravity of the situation, their caring presence made you feel cherished and supported, giving you strength even in the midst of your own turmoil.

after a few moments of their heartfelt declarations, the room fell into a short silence, the weight of their words lingering in the air.

gojo ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of nervous energy. “and just so you know, suguru here basically took a week off work to sit by your bedside like a damn watchdog, he even almost made the rainbow dragon eat gakuganji because that fucker won't let him leave.” geto, caught off guard by the sudden revelation, flushed faintly and shot a glare at gojo.

geto, taken aback, shot a sharp look at gojo before retort, “you clearly about to hollow purple the higher-ups and the entire school because they won't let you stay here with her.” gojo's expression darkened for a moment, “you know i would do it in a heartbeat, if i could.” geto's grip on your hand tightened, his gaze still fixed on gojo. “i know you would. and i'd be right there with you.”

gojo and geto turned their attention back to you when they heard your soft chuckling, their expressions a mix of relief and amusement at hearing you laugh.

gojo chuckled as well, “you find that funny, huh?” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. geto rolled his eyes a bit, but his own smile betrayed his true feelings. he couldn't stay serious when you laughed. “just the thought of us going rogue and taking down the entire school system for you is amusing, i guess,” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

you hummed in satisfaction, “they are shit anyway.” a gentle smile lingering on your pale lips.

gojo chuckled warmly, his eyes sparkling at your comment. “ah, and there’s that signature wit of yours coming back.”

geto, still feigning annoyance but struggling to hide a grin, shook his head slightly. “still as blunt and unfiltered as ever,” he said, his eyes soft.

you glances at both of them, the comforting silence lingering between you, and with a tender smile, you mouthed softly, “i love you.” your cheeks flushed a delicate crimson beneath your pale complexion as you kissed their cheek.

gojo and geto exchanged a brief glance at your sweet words and soft kisses, their hearts swelling with warmth and love. gojo's hand reached out to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and loving. “we love you too,” he said softly.

geto's smile widened as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “always,” he breathed, his voice filled with tenderness.

the thought of you coming back to them is warm.

TAGLIST :

@junni-berry @fortunatelyfurrygiver @soraya-daydreams @diorzs @dancing--devils @iloveboysinred @bounie1 @nina3871 @ohnotheusernameisbroken

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

can someone please send me that post abt washing your sheets "climb in my brothers"

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

physically i’m here, mentally i’m in the arms of a fictional character

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

girlboss

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

i love him

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

nah i don't fuck with ai generated fics because y'all don't sit there for weeks in front of your blank doc and cry like the rest of us

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

Taylor at the Chiefs vs Ravens game in Arrowhead Stadium on September 5, 2024

📷: David Eulitt for Getty Images

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

forever gorgeous. feat. gojo satoru

synopsis: comparison is the thief of joy — in which you feel insecure, but luckily you have the prettiest man to ever exist to comfort you

content: gojo x reader, angst w comfort, face dysmorphia, insecurities, fem!reader, comparisons to others, crying, mental health issues, and self-hatred

a/n: this may be self indulgent...anyways, i just wanted to let you all know that you're fucking beautiful in your own special way. everyone is different and that's what makes us gorgeous. you don't need to compare yourself to other people because you were born with features made just for you. i know it's useless when someone tells you "you're pretty so you don't have to be insecure" because that changes nothing, but it is possible to learn to love yourself for who you are. i love you ❤︎

you stand in front of the mirror, your gaze locked on the reflection staring back at you. every line, every shadow, every imperfection catches your eye. you lean in closer, inspecting the fine lines etched across your forehead, the dark circles haunting your eyes, the uneven texture of your skin. each flaw, no matter how small, feels magnified under the harsh light, glaring at you, accusing you.

your fingers trace the contours of your face, searching for something familiar, something you can still recognize as yourself. but the more you look, the more alien this face becomes. you notice the dullness in your eyes, the way your lips seem to have lost their fullness, how your once-bright complexion has faded to a pallor. you pick at the imperfections, the scars, the blemishes, as if by doing so you could somehow erase them, erase the person you've become, or the person you've always been.

but it never works. the more you scrutinize, the more you find to despise. it's as if the mirror is a portal to another world, a world where you’re distorted and twisted, where every flaw is exaggerated, every imperfection a glaring fault. you feel trapped, caught in an endless loop of self-criticism and loathing. the person in the mirror is a stranger, someone you can’t relate to, someone you’re ashamed of.

you step back, but the image remains imprinted in your mind, haunting you. you don’t recognize yourself anymore, and the thought terrifies you. the person you used to be is slipping away, and all that’s left is this reflection, this version of you that you can’t stand to look at.

it's tearing you apart, this obsession, this constant need to pick yourself apart piece by piece. but you can’t stop. you don’t know how to stop. so you stand there, day after day, searching for the person you once were, and hating the person you’ve become.

you feel the tears welling up, a slow, inevitable tide that you can’t hold back. standing there, staring into the mirror, you’re overwhelmed by a crushing sense of despair. it's not just the reflection that you can’t stand—it’s the thought of anyone else seeing it, of anyone else having to look at you the way you’re forced to now. the idea of their eyes tracing the same flaws that you obsess over, the same imperfections that you magnify in your mind, is too much to bear.

you breath catches in your throat as the first tear slips down your cheek, and then another. the tears blur your vision, but it doesn’t soften the image in the mirror. if anything, the distortion makes it worse, turning your reflection into something even more grotesque in your mind. you press your hands against your face, trying to hide from the world, but mostly from yourself.

it breaks your heart, this self-loathing. because deep down, you know it’s not supposed to be this way. you know it's not something you can change, it's just something you have to learn to live with and that makes it even more unbearable. the thought that this pain is, in some twisted way, your own doing, or at least your own responsibility to fix, weighs on you like a leaden cloak. you know you could learn to love yourself if you wanted to, but the sheer weight of that knowledge only adds to the hurt, making the tears come faster, harder. you don't want to love yourself, not this version of you at least. you don't think you deserve it.

you sob quietly, the sound almost foreign to your ears, like it’s coming from someone else. but it’s you—it’s all you. you're trapped in this body, this mind, this reflection that you can’t escape. and the pain isn’t just in how you look; it’s in how you feel about it, in the heartbreak of knowing that you’ve become someone you don’t want to be, someone you’re afraid to let others see.

the tears keep coming, and you let them, because at least in crying, you can release some of the pressure building inside. but it doesn’t bring relief, only more heartache, as you stand there, unable to face yourself, unable to bear the thought that anyone else might have to as well.

you don’t hear him at first. you're too lost in your thoughts, too caught up in the tears that won’t stop falling. but then, suddenly, you sense him—gojo, walking into the room with that easy smile he always wears, the one that usually makes your heart skip a beat. he's about to say something, maybe a joke or a playful comment, but then he sees you.

his smile falters, replaced by a look of concern so deep it cuts through your haze of self-loathing. “hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft and full of worry as he moves closer to you. the sight of him, the sound of his voice, only makes the tears come faster, and you turn away, desperate to hide from him, to keep him from seeing you like this.

but he’s already seen. “what happened, baby?” he asks again, his tone more urgent as he reaches for you. the touch of his hand on your shoulder sends a fresh wave of pain through you, not because it hurts, but because you know he’s looking at you—really looking at you. the thought of him seeing you the way you see yourself, seeing all the flaws you can’t stand, makes your chest tighten with panic.

“please, don’t,” you manage to choke out, trying to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let you go. he's persistent, as he always is, and his arms wrap around you, holding you close despite your attempts to escape. “hey, it’s okay. whatever it is, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice steady, soothing, but all it does is make the tears fall harder because nothing about this is okay.

you can’t stand it, the idea of him having to see you like this, broken and falling apart over something you know you shouldn’t let consume you. you struggle weakly against him, but he holds you tighter, refusing to let you go. “i'm here,” he says softly, his voice right next to your ear now, and despite everything, despite how much you hate yourself in this moment, a part of you can’t help but cling to him, needing his strength.

he doesn’t ask again what’s wrong; he just holds you, letting you cry into his chest, his hand gently stroking your hair. you're overwhelmed by the kindness in his touch, the way he’s there for you even when you feel so unworthy of it. It’s almost too much to bear, this tenderness from him, but you let yourself sink into it because there’s nowhere else to go. his arms are a refuge from the storm inside you, and even though you don’t understand how he can still want to be with you after seeing you like this, you’re grateful for his warmth, for the way he loves you even when you can’t love yourself.

a few minutes pass, the silence between you filled only with the sound of your quiet sobs and the steady rhythm of his breathing. gojo doesn’t say anything; he just holds you close, his arms strong and reassuring around you. you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek, steady and calm, a contrast to the turmoil inside you. the warmth of his embrace slowly starts to ease the tension in your body, his presence a balm against the rawness of your emotions.

you can sense his patience, the way he’s waiting for you, not pushing, just being there. it's that patience, that unwavering support, that finally makes you feel safe enough to speak. you pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him, and you see the concern in his eyes, the way he’s completely focused on you, ready to listen.

“i just… i don’t know how to explain it,” you begin, your voice shaky, but he nods encouragingly, his thumb gently brushing away the tears still lingering on your cheek. “i hate myself. every day i wake up and i hate myself. i hate the way i look so much that it hurts...it's like i don't even know who i'm looking at and it doesn't help that i have to see it everyday. it's not something i can run from, it's apart of me forever and i hate it.”

he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to correct you or tell you that you’re wrong. he just listens, his blue eyes never leaving yours, his expression so attentive, so full of empathy, that it almost hurts. you take a shaky breath and continue, the words spilling out now, all the fears and insecurities you’ve been bottling up inside. “and i've tried so hard to love myself and find beauty in what i see, but i can't. nothing about me is pretty. i sit in the mirror for hours trying to convince myself that any part of me is worth looking at. there has to be something about me that isn't ugly, but there isn't. and i hate going out because if i see it, then everyone does. i have to go out surrounded by people who are normal, people who are naturally beautiful and i have to spend hours putting on makeup just to feel presentable...even that doesn't work anymore.”

as you talk, his arms tighten around you just a little, as if he’s trying to shield you from the pain of your own words. he doesn’t say anything yet, just lets you keep talking, letting out everything you’ve been holding back. there's a comfort in being able to voice these thoughts, to share them with someone who cares, someone who won’t judge you for them.

“i just don't understand why me,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “why do i have to look like this, why are you with me, just why me. and i'm scared...that maybe i'll always feel like this and that maybe you'll see me the way i see myself.”

for a moment, there’s only silence, the weight of your confession hanging in the air between you. but then he tilts your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. his expression is soft, tender, but there’s also a seriousness in his eyes, a depth of emotion that takes you by surprise.

“first, thank you for sharing all of this with me. i know it wasn't easy,” he says quietly, his voice steady but full of feeling. “second, i see you, all of you, and i love every bit. it breaks my heart hearing you talk about yourself like this, my love, because you've always been so damn beautiful to me. i'm sure even if i saw you the way you see yourself, i'd love you the same, if not more. i just wish you could see yourself the way i do.”

he pauses, letting his words sink in, and then he adds, “i know you don't believe me and that's something we'll work on together because i will forever be by your side. but i do want you to know that you are forever gorgeous to me. and not just to me, to anyone with working eyes and everyone who loves you. beauty is never just what you see in the looks of someone, but in what you see when you look deeper beyond the surface. from the inside, out, you are beautiful. every piece of you, i love endlessly and nothing will ever change that. ”

you can see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he’s willing to stand by you, no matter what. it's a comfort you didn’t know you needed, but now that it’s there, it feels like a lifeline, something to hold onto in the darkness. you feel a small sense of relief, a lightness in your chest that wasn’t there before, and you realize that, for the first time in a long while, you’re not carrying this burden alone.

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yeehawbrothers

5 months ago

This comic is just one of many you’ll find inside The Book of Purrs. 🐾🐾🖤

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