He Can't - Tumblr Posts
Ok but something about Sukuna focusing on Gojo while his chest (heart) is being pierced
Reminds me of....
Uhhhhhhh...
lorcanthropy:
He couldn’t use one of his arms, it was just…laying there at his side, useless until it healed itself. That might take a while, a while he didn’t have with four corpses on his floor. Mal felt terrible, but not for the death he’d just caused, but for the pup standing in front of him, he could smell the fear swirling in the air, dancing with the acrid iron of the scent of blood. It was obvious that, aside from the attack that had changed him, he’d never seen the world for more than what he’d seen, and he’d never been anywhere, never done anything.
Spitting the coppery substance from his mouth, he turned a bit, face ripped here and there, the boy was obviously in shock. “No, no. Stop.” his working hand came up to the boy’s face, grabbing it firmly but with a gentility, “Doug, it’s fine. They’re not goin’ anywhere, right now, I ne–need yer help.” That was when the adrenaline gave out, his legs became jelly and Mal found himself holding onto the tall young lad for dear life. “That were bleedin’ t–terrifyin’, I know.” He coughed, he needed to sit. “Help me t'my couch over there…"
When he felt the leather beneath him, he kept a grip on Duggy’s arm, not letting him leave as the fear was still clogging his nostrils. "Oi, look.” Mal had never been a father before, and his own had been terrible, but somehow he slogged through the pain, the wish to just fall dead-ass asleep right now, “What I did out there? That’ll never happen t'yeh. Not by my hand. You and yer brother, yeah? Yer… Yer my pack now, all right? Y'get that? Means I protect yeh, an’ I’ll teach yeh all I know. ” it was getting harder to fight it the will to pass out.
“Sit with me here, he–” another cough, another spit of blood, “help me clean up, me arm’s busted for at least another hour. We’ll clean up t'gether in a bit, right?”
He didn’t flinch or pull from Mal’s touch, just raised his eyes enough to look at the shorter wolf. No matter the 5 inch difference, Douglas hadn’t felt so fucking small in his life. But he still reacted quickly to keep Mal upright. His heart pounded now, for more than one reason. The intention of this hadn’t been that finding a father to replace the ones that had left him. He had Daz, and that was enough, to him at least. He just needed to know, to control the wolf, to be in control of himself. He had some many questions Daz couldn’t answer, but this, this felt like what he should have heard from his father. This felt like family.
He was careful as he lowered Mal to the leather couch, the thought of how easy it would be to clean later in the far back of his mind. He kept his eyes on him as he spoke, promising that he would share the fate of the beast who were little more than stains on the gym floor now. He gave him a short nod, a nod was how this trouble began. He bit down on his cheek as he moved to sit beside the bloody mess that was Mal.
“What do you want me to do?” he ask quietly, “How do I help? I’ve never... I’ve never seen a fight that.. vicious.” that was putting it lightly. christ. He looked Mal over, all of the scars, lacierations, the pain on his face. He was supposed to be a tough bastard, and seeing him weak was no comfort.
need to write more fanfiction about jotaro fucking up cuz i need him to fail at everything, fuckign hate the guy