from the bottom of my fucking heart. how are we supposed to live under these conditions.
$LAYYYTER
Cosimo Galluzzi

Janaina Medeiros
occasionally subtle

@theartofmadeline
NASA

#extradirty

shark vs the universe

pixel skylines

oozey mess
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Xuebing Du
Sweet Seals For You, Always

⁂
Mike Driver
One Nice Bug Per Day
DEAR READER
Claire Keane
RMH
will byers stan first human second
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@dutifullyfoggyfun
from the bottom of my fucking heart. how are we supposed to live under these conditions.
DtMF
itafushi, modulo spoilers towards the end
A soft, cold wave of water laps at Yuji’s feet, a small dog licking at its owner asking Please pay attention to me. Look! Look! I’m here! He’s here! You’re here too! Please look!
It’s persistent, that damn dog.
Or waves. Whatever. Yuji never even had the chance to own a dog, so how the hell would he know what it feels like to have one sit at your feet and beg for your attention. And it’s useless to even count on the idea that he could potentially own one in the future. With the impending doom of his execution laying in the “far along nearby future” (according to Gojo-sensei, who cheerfully reminded him “We could find the rest of the fingers next month, or even next decade. Who knows!”), Yuji wasn’t exactly counting on making any huge changes to his current living situation.
Except for the photos.
The first couple weeks as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, of course he knew his entire world was going to change from there on out. New powers, new enemies in the world, new teachers, new brothers, friends, and most importantly-
“Oi, Itadori.”
Fushiguro.
Yuji smiles and finally brings his eyes up from his phone, thumb still hovering over the camera button, to look at the boy who his heart had decided (for him) it would hold the nearest and dearest. Fushiguro was ankle deep in the cold water, his brown boots left on the shore by Yuji’s feet, as he held his trousers up by his hands so the fabric would stay dry. He was shivering like a soggy puppy despite only his feet being exposed to the current.
Yuji’s boyish smile grows even more at the sight, and with a click of his power button, he finally tucks his phone away into his pockets, also bunching up his pants as he follows Fushiguro into the freezing December water.
“Fushiguro, you’re freezing,” Yuji points out with a laugh, his eyes squeezing shut as he finally stands across from Fushiguro in the water.
“I had to wait for a good five minutes because your dumbass was just standing there with your phone taking pictures like you’ve never seen the ocean before, that’s why. You have seen the ocean before, right?” Fushiguro asks rhetorically, annoyed, but the gentle glimmer in his eyes reads of nothing but endearment.
The boyish grin on Yuji’s face softens into one of melancholy, of nostalgia for a moment that he hasn’t even left yet.
“The sunset just looked extra pretty today.” Yuji offers with a shrug.
Fushiguro stares at Yuji’s face, squinting his eyes ever so slightly as if trying to read something incomprehensible. Instead, he just sighs and his eyes shut
“Whatever, I’m just glad- Hey!”
A splash of water cuts Fushiguro off, and he opens his eyes to find Yuji laughing, his hands dripping suspiciously with water and his pants that were once being held up to keep dry now submerged in the water.
“Don’t splash me back, don’t splash me back! My phone’s in my pocket!” Yuji quickly laughs out, his wet hands grabbing Fushiguro’s wrists in an attempt to stop his retaliation. The dryness of their pants are long forgotten, as now the bottoms of Fushiguro’s uniform are submerged as well.
And Fushiguro doesn’t splash him back, instead letting his wrists be caught in Yuji’s calloused hands that were still somehow stupidly warm despite the cold air and even colder water. He lets out a small, gruff laugh as well, “Why’re you picking fights you can’t finish?”
At a certain point it gets too cold for them to reason even with their stupid immature teenage boy rationality that they have, and they trudge out of the water side by side. Both of their hands tucked into their pockets, elbows bumping into each other as they approach the shore. Yuji’s hand clutches the phone in his pocket, so tightly as if it were one of the fingers they were all searching for. He only releases his grasp once they reach the shore and he bends down to hook his fingers in the backs of both of their pairs of shoes before catching up to Fushiguro a couple steps ahead of him.
“Why do you keep taking so many pictures, anyways?” Fushiguro gruffly asks as they continue making their trek across the sand to the bus stop.
Yuji pauses, his lips pressing together into a pout on one side of his face, as he tries to come up with an answer.
The photos.
In all honesty, he had started taking the abundance of pictures that he has recently because despite the fact he has committed himself to finding and eating all the fingers knowing it would end in his execution, he hadn’t really been living life like there was a ticking timebomb over his head. An hourglass constantly hovering over him, and with each finger they find, one more huge grain of sand falls through to the bottom. So, once he fully realized that he could really die next week, he began feverishly taking photos of his everyday life. Of what he ate, what he wore, stupid selfies with Panda, excursions out into the bustling part of the city, of his Sensei, of his friends. A lot of photos of his friends, actually, especially ones of a certain someone with hair reminiscent of a sea urchin.
Proof that he was here.
Or maybe it was so he could lay in his bed at the end of the day and scroll through his gallery, fully appreciating and reliving all of those cherished moments that he didn’t feel time had given him any justice to fully appreciate in the moment.
Because how can you live in the moment when with each second that ticks by, so does the timebomb above your head, and so do the grains of sand as they hit the bottom of the hourglass.
“...Just lotsa’ things worth taking photos of recently, I guess.” Yuji settles on, because how he is going to sit there and tell Fushiguro to his face that every night he sits in the dark, huddled up in blankets, staring at photos of him like a freak.
Thankfully Fushiguro just shrugs at his answer, not probing further.
“...Thanks for coming out with me today, anyways. It means a lot, especially since..,” Fushiguro starts, ultimately trailing off as they both put their shoes back on now that their feet are acceptably dry.
But Yuji understands.
“Yeah dude, anytime. It’s weird though that Tsumiki would only take you to the ocean for your birthday. It’s wayyyy too cold in December. Summertime would’ve been so much better.” Yuji says as they enter the bus, following behind Fushiguro paying for the both of them.
“Dunno. Something about wanting to do something memorable since we didn’t have much and the cost of a trip to the coastal areas is only the bus fare,” Fushiguro replies as they take a seat, tipping his head back to rest against the seat as he shuts his eyes, his arms slumped in between his legs, “Tsumiki would make us food, whole bunch of things, and we’d ride out to the beach for the day.”
He pauses before opening his eyes back up, the smallest flicker of a smile appearing on his face as nostalgia warms his eyes.
“...I used to complain about how cold it was all the time too, how I would’ve rathered we just stay at home or something. I guess she was right though. I don’t remember much from my childhood, but I always remember the freezing cold December waters from my birthdays.”
Yuji’s entire body is turned to Fushiguro’s, listening intently, eyes widened with a gentle empathy for the boy sitting next to him. He knew what that felt like all too well anyways, grieving over a moment in time that can never come back.
And so he settles into his own seat, one of his knees pressing against Fushiguro’s. I’m here.
“Well, we’ll see just how cold it is next year then, too.” I’m coming back with you. What scarce traditions you got to enjoy as a child, I’ll make sure the fire keeping it ignited doesn’t die out.
The rest of the ride back to Jujutsu Tech was silent, their knees bumping against each other as their soggy pants pressed together at the ankles, but no one bothers to move. And Yuji pretends not to notice the subtle smile Fushiguro hides, nor his flushed ears, and Yuji also pretends to not notice just how flushed his own neck is.
‧───────────────‧
A soft, cold wave of water laps at Yuji’s feet, a small dog licking at its owner saying Hey! Hey! Look at me! I’m here, you’re here too! Please look! Let’s play!
“How the hell are you still here, aren’t dogs supposed to live max fifteen years?” Yuji grumbles gruffly as he kicks the next wave that comes to settle around his feet with a “Damn dog".
Yuji tugs back the hood that covers his face and lets the stingingly-cold air hit his cheeks, the smell of salt water filling his nose as he closes his eyes, mentally transporting back to a time 68 years ago.
“You have seen the ocean before, right?”
Fushiguro.
A bitter smile graces Yuji’s scarred mouth.
Yuji pulls his old, beat up phone out of his hoodie pocket, opening his eyes back up to enter the password. The phone lags a little bit, it’s gone through countless repairs and updates, but he doesn’t worry. He already backed up all the pictures he took in his youth to multiple hard drives, as well as to online cloud-based storage apps. The phone itself is just for the novelty.
He quickly goes to his favorites album, scrolling until he lands on a photo that has been imprinted onto his heart.
“Duh, I’ve seen the ocean before,” He had wanted to say back then, clicking on the photo he familiarized himself with so well.
“What I haven’t seen is you surrounded by all the colors of the setting sun like this.”
Yuji allows a small smile as he holds his phone up.
He stares at the photo he took of Fushiguro all those years ago, standing ankle deep in the cold December water. He is clutching both sides of his uniform’s pants, the fabric bunched up in his hands so the bottoms wouldn’t get wet. He didn’t have any scars on his face yet. The sun isn’t visible in the photo, but the colors all reflecting off of the water and back onto Fushiguro’s face are. Shades of orange, pink, red, purple, and blue all cast gently onto him and his uniform, the water below him sparkling with glints of light as the sun hits it. It was a sickeningly beautiful photo, one that had Yuji starstruck as he stood there on the shore however many years ago just staring at it. How could someone look as if Monet had resurrected just to paint them in that very moment?
He wishes he had recorded a video. It would’ve been hilarious to see Fushiguro shivering like a wet dog again.
And of course it would’ve been nice to hear him say “Oi, Itadori” once more, too.
He powers his phone off and tucks it back into his pocket, eyes shutting once more as he tilts his head back in very much the same way Fushiguro did on the bus ride when recalling his birthdays prior to Tsumiki’s hospitalization.
“Fushiguro,” Yuji speaks into the frigid, December air, the waves ebbing and flowing around his feet, “The water’s just as cold this year. Maybe even colder than last year.”
That ticking timebomb above Yuji’s head had never seemed to finally go off, and it was as if that damn hourglass had instead been filled with millions of infinitesimal grains of sand.
Yuji wasn’t wrong for taking all of those photos he had taken in his youth. No, he is still thankful he had such an obsession with documenting his daily life and who he spent it with.
His execution never came.
And his death doesn’t seem to be coming anytime soon either.
His friends weren’t as fortunate (or as unfortunate, he thinks), and he’s extremely grateful to have taken so many photos of them back then so he can continue to look back and relive memories with them from a long, long time ago.
“I wonder if it’ll be just as cold next year.” Yuji says once more to the air rich with sea salt, and turns away, walking away from the shore and away from the cold, December water.
Yuji walks back up the hill of sand to the same bus stop, his fingers hooked into the backs of his shoes as he approaches with the grunts and groans of an old man.
I’m here. I’m still here.
⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹
a/n: hiii guys hehe >.< this was just a small test fic because I've been thinking about getting back into writing them again. I genuinely haven't written a fic since I was in 4th grade so ('''' •᷄ ᴗ •᷅ ) LOL ... I also wrote this in one sitting and didn't bother to proofread so pls ignore any grammar mistakes hehe this was just to get something out there and to be a start.
+ this was inspired by bad bunny's "DtMF" so I was indeed looping it the whole time while writing it HAHAHA
I hope you guys enjoyed it and will stick around for whatever I might write in the future, and I hope I am able to improve a lot to bring you all good quality fics ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
Just because it was Valentine's does not mean you are free from the angst
This genuinely broke my heart bro I can't keep doing this
Chill, bro, he's all yours.
Whitaker: Is there a word that’s a mix between sad and mad? Mel: Malcontented, disgruntled, miserable, desolate. Santos: Smad.
it occurred to me that santos may not have actually had a best friend since her friend committed suicide when they were teenagers and that might be part of why she pushes dennis away. she's afraid of losing him so she keeps him at arms length, but they live together and santos pays his bills for 10 months and keeps buying avocados even though she knows he eats them and they watch tv together on their days off. he is indisputably her best friend, but she can't make herself say it.
i need you to understand that we owe trinity santos everything for nicknaming dennis 'huckleberry' because the likelihood that the ship between dennis and robby could have been 'dobby' is very high so let's all love and praise trinity ok?
HE SAW IT
HE LIKED IT
HE REPOSTED IT
The first time Dennis is a brat in front of Robby, he gets a chuckle and a shake of the head from the man. The first time he's bratty in front of Jack, he walks away leaving Jack looking like
some faith
Like a fine wine.
what if you were a MED STUDENT and it was you FIRST SHIFT in emergency medicine and then you spilled MYLANTA on yourself and you had to CHANGE YOUR SCRUBS and then a patient BLED all over you and you had to CHANGE YOUR SCRUBS and RIGHT AFTER THAT a boy BARFED BLOOD all over you and you had to CHANGE YOUR SCRUBS and then a some guy PEED on you and you had to CHANGE YOUR SCRUBS and you looked like a BABY OWL
just a reminder that it's fuck ICE forever
If Rafael as an ADA used to wear $2000 suits, now as a defense attorney, it looks like he’s wearing even more expensive ones. He looks more luxurious, mysterious, and definitely way hotter with the beard. Plus, he never lost his charm I'M DROOLING
Bonus:
Me after explaining the multiverse of different people and characters where I have different ocs in my head to my sisters