#but despite the fear of vulnerability

[fioleespring]

[missusfuzz]

The class darlings

[loveoaths]

went to the dentist yesterday for a simple cleaning. staff was masked (surgical masks, so not very masked, but it was something) but i noticed my hygienist sounded kind of congested/was leaving the room to cough halfway into my cleaning. woke up today feeling like shit + full of weird vibrating sensations like i was the first time i had covid three years — which i have successfully dodged for three! years! — and if that office gave my immunocompromised ass covid i am going to be LIVID.

[me-you-and-my-medication]

I think I have avpd. I just relate a lot to the symptoms I've found and listening to people talk about it I resonate with too

[yichens]

ooohhh dangerous romance about to make me act Insane. silly even

[consulaaris]

as your soul may dance with mine 

FFXIV. zori aviriq (WoL) / thancred waters. set in ARR patches. ~1k words.

cw: alcohol

. 

Zori’s not entirely certain why she agreed to this.

She’s never been one for crowds— even less so now that people are beginning to know her face— and the little bar above the Rising Stones is practically bustling with people at this time of night. Given half a chance she’d be high on the stone walkways that loom above the city with a mug of spiced wine, more prone to watching the comings and goings than being a part of them herself. 

But instead she’s here, and Zori has to admit it’s probably because Thancred was the one asking her.

The table they’ve claimed is tucked into a corner, booth-styled with cracked leather seats. Zori props up her head on her hand, the perfect picture of indolence were it not for her roaming eyes and twitching tail. It’s a lively time of night, the candles flickering and casting a warm glow over the place. She should enjoy it, she knows; she seldom gets time to relax lately, but Zori is merely… tired. 

Then again, she’s always tired these days. Exhaustion is a deep ache that tugs at her bones, dragging down her every step. It feels like the second she’s solved one problem another rears its head, and she’s barely had time to process everything that’s happened these last few months. But Zori is the Warrior of Light, and the luxury of introspection isn’t exactly in supply as of late.

Absently, Zori examines the rings on her free hand, before her gaze is drawn where Thancred is waiting on their drinks. He’s in his element here as much as she’s out of hers, leaning against the bar and chatting to the barmaid and several other customers nearby. She sees him toss back his head in laughter, and two of the Hyur women sitting at the counter flutter their lashes in his direction. 

A thrum of something like jealousy burns through Zori at the realization, and she purses her lips— nails digging ever so slightly into the wood of the table. 

As if reading her mind, Thancred flashes her a little smile and wave from across the room, just as the barmaid returns to him with their mugs. 

“They seemed interested,” she drawls as he walks back to their little table, nodding in thanks as places one of the drinks in front of her. 

Thancred merely winks, sliding into the seat next to her. “I’m afraid they can’t hold a candle when I have the loveliest one waiting on me already.” 

“Flatterer.” Even rolling her eyes, it comes out fonder than she’d intended. 

Zori pretends to ignore his laughter to preserve her pride, taking a sip of the ale. 

It’s true though, in a way. As the hours pass Thancred’s eyes don’t once stray to another, and Zori can’t deny the smallest bit of satisfaction she feels at the fact.

She can see the way his mask slips as the night goes on, though; sees a weariness in him in the way his shoulders slump when he thinks she’s not looking. Dark circles under his hazel eyes are worse than they’d been even just a week ago, and worry clenches at Zori’s stomach. But she knows better than to say anything. Zori still remembers the last time she’d asked Thancred how he was doing— and his reply of “Never better.” with a smile so hollow she could feel it. They’d both known it was a lie. 

Not that she can judge. 

But neither of them can bring themselves to talk about what’s happened, even when drink after drink has loosened their tongues. They sag against each other; she doesn’t really know who’s supporting who. Thancred is safe in a way she can’t quite put into words, in a way she wants to cling to with every fiber of her being. There’s a comfort, a warmth in the contact, and Zori’s breath catches in her throat when he wraps an arm around her shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

Thancred’s voice cracks ever-so-slightly, and she doesn’t really know what he’s thanking her for. She’s not sure he does, either. But Zori covers his hand on her arm with one of her own, and before she can think better of it plants a brief kiss on his cheek. Thancred inhales sharply, but pulls her closer as she leans her head on his shoulder.

She wonders if he can feel how fast her heart is racing.

Zori’s soul whispers and aches, drawn to him like a moth to flame. There’s a truth that lurks at the tip of her tongue, and it’s one she can’t bring herself to deny.  

I am in love with you, and I dare not say it. 

Part of her is afraid that speaking it aloud will make it real in a way she’s not prepared to handle, though she suspects Thancred already knows it. But it’s one day at a time. They’re still healing, putting the pieces back together— bloodied edges still raw from Lahabrea's wounds. Maybe eventually they can break down their unspoken wall and address this thing that drifts between them, as strange and lovely as it is terrifying. 

For now they’re here together, and that’s enough. 

But when music begins to drift out from the corner of the bar, Zori looks up curiously— noting the drums and upbeat sounds of a stringed instrument she doesn’t quite recognize, beneath the hum and laughter of the other patrons. It’s not a song she finds familiar, but already people are swaying to the lively melody, and Zori finds herself tapping her foot to the beat as well. 

To her surprise Thancred stands up then, and reaches towards her with a crooked grin and hand outstretched.

“May I have this dance?” 

Zori doesn’t bother to hide the smile twitching on her lips. 

“Do you even have to ask?” 

There’s a genuine spark back in Thancred’s eyes as she takes his hand in reply. They whirl around each other until their feet are sore and then some, dizzy and laughing from a bit too much ale and the thrill of it all. Lively dances, learning the steps as they go and improvising as they please— Thancred’s cheeks are as flushed as Zori knows her own must be, but she relishes in the fierce joy and freedom of the movement and her hands in his. We’re alive, alive, her heart sings, and maybe in the moment that’s the only thing that really matters. 

[bongsavior]

it's too late for me. i tried and i tried but i'm in love with you and it only grows day by day. even the bad days

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #62

[phantom-does-a-thing]

I love my werewolf Chip AU it’s so silly. He’s just this massive dog sometimes. He likes head scratches and melts when someone pets him.

[seoafin]

just wanted to say thank you for blessing us with "nail in the coffin" i want to wrap that fic up in a warm blanket and put it in my pocket forever it literally broke my heart and mended it all at the same time ;-; i will always always adore how you write gojo but the way you write suguru.....is Just Something to me idk <3 his first kiss w/ mc in rip 2 my youth altered the chemistry of my brain honestly….also the fact the the ����🇭 got mentioned in nitc had me like: https://i.imgflip.com/4spbxp.gif 🫡

ahhhhhh you're more than welcome <3 im not going to lie. i saw those panels of a shirtless kenjaku and straight up thought i was going to die. like im sorry i know he was abusing women (yuki you're still my number one) but i was so distracted i just couldn't pay attention to anything else

i lived in a SEA country for a couple of years when i was younger so i loveeeeee filipino desserts!!!! like nanami wanted to retire in malaysia so i just feel like gojo and philippines would vibe

[disgustedorite]

I. Don't know how it didn't hit me until just now that Dante was my first love.

[luna-azzurra]

List of 40 character flaws

Stubbornness, Unyielding in one's own views, even when wrong.

Impatience, Difficulty waiting for long-term results.

Self-doubt, Constant uncertainty despite evident abilities.

Quick temper, Excessive reactions to provocations.

Selfishness, Prioritizing one's own needs over others'.

Arrogance, Overestimating one's own abilities.

Trust issues, Difficulty trusting others.

Perfectionism, Setting unreachable high standards.

Fear of change, Avoiding changes.

Haunted by the past, Old mistakes or traumas influencing the present.

Jealousy, Envious of others' successes.

Laziness, Hesitant to exert effort.

Vindictiveness, Strong desire for revenge.

Prejudice, Unfair biases against others.

Shyness, Excessive timidity.

Indecisiveness, Difficulty making decisions.

Vulnerability, Overly sensitive to criticism.

Greed, Strong desire for more (money, power, etc.).

Dishonesty, Tendency to distort the truth.

Recklessness, Ignoring the consequences of one's actions.

Cynicism, Negative attitude and distrust.

Cowardice, Lack of courage in critical moments.

Hotheadedness, Quick, often thoughtless reactions.

Contentiousness, Tendency to provoke conflicts.

Forgetfulness, Difficulty remembering important details.

Kleptomania, Compulsion to steal things.

Hypochondria, Excessive concern about one's health.

Pessimism, Expecting the worst in every situation.

Narcissism, Excessive self-love.

Control freak, Inability to let go or trust others.

Tactlessness, Inability to address sensitive topics sensitively.

Hopelessness, Feeling that nothing will get better.

Dogmatism, Rigidity in one's own beliefs.

Unreliability, Inability to keep promises.

Closed-offness, Difficulty expressing emotions.

Impulsiveness, Acting without thinking.

Wounded pride, Overly sensitive to criticism of oneself.

Isolation, Tendency to withdraw from others.

[nunyabznsbabes]

Katniss is like Lucy Gray this, Katniss is like Sejanus that, and yes fine that's all good and true and lovely but Katniss Everdeen is also a direct parallel to Coriolanus Snow and people NEED to start talking about this because it's driving me crazy.

Think about it: they both grew up poor and deeply vulnerable, losing parents at a very young age, with a matriarchal adult (Katniss' mother and Coriolanus' Grandma'am) who fails to provide for them emotionally and physically. They intimately understand the threat of starvation, even developing with stunted growth because of it, and their narrations in the books share a fixation on food. Throughout their childhoods, both experienced constant fear and suffered a fundamental lack of control over their circumstances. Because of this, they're inherently suspicious of the people around them. They resent feeling indebted to others, especially those who have saved their lives. They're motivated almost entirely by family and deeply connected to their communities. Both are used and manipulated by the Capitol, both are forced to perform to survive and despise every inch of it, both are thrown into the Arena and made to kill. Both have a self-sacrificial, genuinely sweet sister figure acting as their conscience. Peeta and Lucy Gray - performers and love interests with a fundamental kindness and sense of hope about them - fulfill markedly similar roles in their narrative. Both contribute to the development of the future Hunger Games, Snow throughout tbosas and Katniss towards the end of Mockingjay.

It's easy to ignore these similarities because, as mirrors of each other, they are exact opposites. Katniss is from District 12, viewed and treated as less than human; Snow is the cream of the Capitol crop, given the privilege of a name with social weight, an ancestral home, and the opportunity of the Academy despite having no more money than a miner from 12. Katniss has no agency over her life, and responds by being kind whenever she's able, while Snow justifies horrendous evils in order to continue his quest for complete control. Katniss does everything she can to protect her family; Snow does everything he can to protect his family's image as an extension of his own ego. Katniss loves her District and connects with its inhabitants on a meaningful level, but Snow is indifferent at best to his peers - the apparent "superior people" - and only engages with his community for personal gain. Katniss emerges from the Arena horrified at herself and the system, but Snow takes his trauma and turns it into an excuse to perpetuate the violence with himself at the top. Katniss cares for Prim until her death and then snaps at the loss of her little sister, while Snow survives on Tigris' blood, sweat, and tears and then torments and abandons her, presumably because she calls him out on his insanity. Snow actively adds to and popularizes the Hunger Games because of his vendetta against the Districts following his childhood wartime trauma - Katniss briefly agrees to a new Hunger Games in the pursuit of vengeance, but later stops them from happening by killing Coin and choosing a life of peace and privacy. Snow is obsessed with revenge, but Katniss empathizes with the Capitolites and does what she can to keep them from suffering. He exists in a cruel system and selfishly upholds it; she exists in a cruel system and works to dismantle it for the good of her family and community, at great personal cost. And Peeta and Lucy Gray are incredibly similar, but Katniss and Peeta forge a relationship of genuine love and understanding that shines in comparison to Coriolanus' obsessive projection onto Lucy Gray.

So, yeah, Katniss is Lucy Gray haunting Coriolanus. But I bet you anything that eighty-something year old President Snow looks at her, the girl on fire, bright and young and brilliant, emerging from a childhood of starvation with a relentless hunger for success, a talented and charming performer helping her win the Games, and he sees the ghost of his own past. And that's why he's so afraid of her! Because if he sees himself in her, then he's up against his own cunning, his own talent for manipulation, his own charisma, his own genius. He's up against the version of himself that he once wished to be, with the nightmare army of his childhood at her back and her star-crossed lover at her side, spewing Sejanus' truths in his own voice. This isn't to say that Katniss ever achieved the level of power and agency that Coriolanus did during her time with the rebellion, but it is to say that Snow was taken down by what truly terrified him - his own morality, come to finish the job.

[konigsblog]

Forceful breeding with Perv!König (🌽 link)

CW; FORCED IMPREGNATION, BREEDING KINK, NON-CON/DUB-CON, AFAB!F!READER — MDNI 18+

König is looking out for himself. His oma and his mother are desperate for some children from König and have been pestering König as he ages. All könig thinks about is the soft giggles of a little baby, to hold his own child in his arms protectively, to care and look out for them like a father should.

Although, you're fearful of pregnancy. All the side effects and complications, the things that could possibly go wrong. Shame fills him when he thinks about what he could do to convince you, or get you pregnant, whether it was a consensual and conscious decision or not. König admires your drunken facial expressions, the smell of booze assaulting his nostrils when he takes in a deep breath beside you. Guilt leaves him conflicted, but inevitably, he chooses to take you. König knows it's wrong, but he wants it too much to bear.

You're too weak to fight against König, who quickly manhandles you into a position where you're vulnerable and powerless and unable to fight back. Even if you tried, your attempts would lead to wasted energy as König carries out with his sickening, distributing acts despite your pleas, all caused by his perversity, selfishness and corrupted perception of love. You don't react, or at least not until König is shoving himself inside to get this over and done with. The sound of your pained cries pulls at his heartstrings, but regardless, he ploughs into you with your legs pulled over his shoulders and your hands pinned to your sides, held in a fist as you dig your nails into your palms, choking on your sounds and sobs.

“I know, I know, it hurts, doesn't it? You're doing so, so well. You know this will benefit both of us, right? Just- a little bit longer, Suße...” He grunts out, working towards that desired release he's been dreaming about all day.

The impact of his hung balls slapping against your ass is excruciating. Your body contorts and trembles as you attempt to wriggle your way out of his firm grasp, useless as König begins to lean further into you, pushing all of his weight down onto you to slam into your ass. You gag at the feeling of König hitting deeper than before, right against your bruised cervix. It's obvious that König wants this, and he'll make sure not a drop leaves your hole.

Just think about how happy his mother will be, the excitement on his oma's face and the presents they'll bring you, little lamb...

[gaza-giving-tree]

Imagine being a mother of four, forced to flee your home again and again, each time leaving behind more of the life you once knew. Now, you find yourself living in a small, makeshift tent, without access to clean water, sufficient food, or medical care.

Now imagine your little daughter, sick with an intestinal infection caused by the polluted water you’re all forced to drink just to survive. You're doing everything you can to save her...but the medical bills are so high, and your family can barely afford to eat.

@ranafam2

Story written by @visionsofaselfmademan

This is reality for Rana ( @ranafam2 ), a a 37-year-old mother of four from Gaza. With a master’s degree in statistics and a husband who dedicated his life to teaching English, their lives were upended by relentless war. Her husband's educational centers, which once provided hope and opportunity to their community, were destroyed. Their home was reduced to rubble, and now they live in a small, overcrowded tent, struggling to survive.

As a mother, Rana battles lung infections caused by cooking over open fires due to the unaffordable cost of cooking gas. Her children are deprived of education, living in constant fear of disease and epidemics that plague the overcrowded camps. With no access to basic necessities like clean water, food, or clothing, their lives hang by a thread.

Despite these hardships, Rana fights tirelessly to protect her children and give them a chance at life. She dreams of escaping the horrors of war, ensuring her children can grow up safe, healthy, and educated.

Rana's heartbreaking struggle continues to worsen as her youngest daughter, who is under two years old, battles a severe intestinal infection caused by polluted water and a lack of proper nutrition and vitamins. The little girl is critically ill, but the family has no access to medical care or essential medicines to treat her. The scarcity of basic supplies like diapers only adds to the despair, as the family remains trapped in a cycle of illness and poverty in the overcrowded tent camps.

Epidemics are spreading rapidly through the camp due to the unsanitary conditions, leaving Rana and her children more vulnerable than ever. Rana, as any good mother in her situation would, feels hopeless and frustrated as she watches her daughter's health deteriorate.

Your help can provide the life-saving medical care, food, and clean water that Rana’s daughter so desperately needs. Every contribution brings hope to this family and a chance for their children to escape the devastating impacts of war.

Please consider donating to their campaign and sharing their story to help save Rana’s daughter and ensure a brighter future for this family.

You can donate to Rana's GoFundMe [HERE].

[risuola]

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe