#but existence here is just draining and miserable

[radioactivebumblebees]

This single, measly bag of top-up groceries [not even a full trip worth], +the cheapest TP I coukd find, is now $93.47 CAD.

My 2 most expensive items are both $7.97. Most of this was on sale, at least $1 off... And they [fresh.co aka Loblaws] have the fucking audacity to tell me I'm "saving 16.97"!? Hey fuckstick[loblaws], I bought almost double this 3 weeks ago, and it was $75! And that's up from the $50-ish it used to cost me for that full-trip amount, a year ago! But you insist prices are "locked low!" And "on sale!" Most of the sales I see are $0.30 to $0.97, usually not even a dollar. Countered with how much everything has been marked up, it's total BS- there is no savings.

I'm about ready to rip my eyes out, peel off my skin, and become one with the mold forming on my windowsill, if I'm honest. This shit is exhausting, I can't even get the bare minimun groceries I need to survive without going down a mental spiral.

[theladygazingatemptiness]

.

[doppel-doodles]

That illustration is making me want to slam my head against solid concrete, Art block said no, and I know when to pick my battles so fuck it we ball-

A normal post about Matthew Hallard from Poppy Playtime

I briefly mentioned this in the Jack post, the fact that I didn't think I had anything new or particularly interesting to say on Matthew as I always thought the Fandom had a lot of the bases covered.

But the more I actually thought about him, the more I wanted to talk about one thing in particular:

Let's talk about Doeys tape.

In game we find a vhs tape recorded by Doey, talking about how he almost ditched everyone in favor of running away, ultimately deciding to go back for them instead. It reveals a lot about how he truly feels about the responsibility that has been given to him.

I think it was so important to include this and the reason why is quite simple:

It humanises Matthew for me.

Why I point him out specifically is due to reasons I mentioned in my other analysis, Jack's control is mostly passive, Kevin only really comes to the forefront when he feels like there is a threat to assess or deal with and it has been confirmed that Matthew is the oldest of the children as well as having been a leader of sorts since he was still a human child, so in the tape it's basically him venting.

Which is great as it makes something crystal clear: He is not a perfect saint.

Matthew is a teenager who has been parentified from an incredibly young age, places immense pressure on himself, is suffering from more burnout than a college kid and not to mention the horror that is his current existence and life-

He doesn't WANT this responsibility, he only takes it on because nobody else will or can.

And nobody even thinks to ask him ONCE how HE is doing, no,no it's him who has to do that, he is not allowed to have breaks.

For godness sake he literally tells us in the tape that he is recording it because he feels like he can't talk to anyone about his problems!

The toys- The children having someone like Doey or more accurately Matthew is not a guarantee, it is a privilege but it's a privilege Matthew needs to!

And you rarely ever see kind characters COMPLAIN about having to be kind all the time, truly looking after everyone else drains you, it's exhausting to fulfill the needs of others, more often than not you'll have to put aside your own and when you really pull the shit end of the stick you get more complains then appreciation for your troubles.

It is such a CHORE and I think a character struggling with being so selfless actually can have such a massive impact instead of just being able to handle everything, it's that tiny bit of realism I love.

Despite how exhausted and miserable Matthew was over being stuck in this position in the end he turned back. Because he loves his friends that much, and he should get massive props for that.

And to think he still did so much but didn't think anything he did was good enough is just painful, like no honey you are enough, more than enough-

Also Poppy having once been the leader makes you think that maybe Matthew might have been hurt the most by her disappearing.

Like her leading was the closest thing to a break he ever got- and then she just up and disappears?? And it's all up to him now? Not to mention the concern? The worry??

Boy it speaks volumes that he doesn't seem to display more hostility towards her considering Poppy doesn't even EXPLAIN herself on why she left or why she couldn't come back.

He is even civil in discussing the fact that she demands for them to be okay with being blown up(also correct me if I'm wrong but didn't Poppy also include in her plan that SHE will get to live? If I heard that I would be flabbergasted.) But that's something I should discuss in another post.

For now that is everything I have about my boy, if you want to see what I have to say about other characters here is Kevin annnnnnd Jack, plus some extra stuff on Doey

[bloomzone]

2025 : #18 THE ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT BURNOUT

i feel exhausted. And I don’t mean like "Oh, I need a nap" exhausted y'all know exhaustion that sits in ur bones that makes even the smallest tasks feel like moving a mountain Even when I do get some rest like sleeping for 8h do breathing techniques I still wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. And not a small one I'm talking an 18-wheeler, full speed (call it whatever u want) . I was tired all the time yet somehow also restless. I wanted to do something, but I also didn’t want to do anything. I was stuck in this weird, miserable limbo where everything felt pointless, but at the same time, I was stressed about not doing enough. Like, how does that even make sense?And honestly, it got to a point where I wasn’t even living anymore I was just existing. Just floating through days waiting for the next one hoping I’d feel better but never really doing anything about it. Because when you’re that deep in burnout, it’s hard to even believe that you can feel better.

But you can. And I know that sounds cliché as hell but listen to me for a second. If I could drag myself out of that deep, dark hole, you definitely can too. And I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy, but I swear to you, it’s possible.

ᡣ𐭩 sᴛᴇᴘ ᴏɴᴇ: sᴛᴏᴘ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀ ғᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇ

If someone talked to you the way you talk to yourself you’d probably wanna fight them Like imagine your younger self sitting right in front of you. If they were struggling, feeling drained, feeling like a failure, would you yell at them to “get their shit together” and call them lazy? No, right? You’d probably comfort them, tell them it’s okay, tell them they don’t have to be perfect.

So why the hell are you so mean to yourself?

Burnout doesn’t happen because you’re weak or lazy but it happens because you’ve been pushing yourself too hard for too long bu experience cuz when I study every single day like NOO stop wake up early,homeworks,school and the same loop go for 1 month I burn out for maybe 15days after (like rn) And let’s be honest, most of us don’t even realize it’s happening until we’re knee-deep in exhaustion. You keep telling yourself, “Oh, I’ll rest once I finish this” or “I just need to push through a little more,” until one day, your body and brain just quit on you.

So the first step? Start being nice to yourself. Start talking to yourself the way you’d talk to a best friend who’s struggling. Because you are not the problem burnout is.

ᡣ𐭩sᴛᴇᴘ ᴛᴡᴏ: ʀᴇsᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪғᴇ ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅs ᴏɴ ɪᴛ (ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴅᴏᴇs)

I know resting sounds like the most obvious advice ever, but do you actually do it? Because scrolling on your phone for five hours doesn’t count as rest. Lying in bed while spiraling about everything you should be doing? Also not rest.

Real rest means giving yourself permission to slow down without feeling guilty. It means doing things that actually recharge you so don't force urself to do ur hard tasks like intense workout at 6am saying yes to extra tasks or project ... But say yes to take walks , listening to music, watching a comfort show DO ANYTHING THAT MAKE U HAPPY not everyone have the same (happiness detox) so yeah . And most importantly, it means not punishing yourself for needing a break.Because pooks you’re not a machine. You weren’t built to be productive 24/7. Even your phone needs to be charged, and you’re out here expecting yourself to run on 2% battery every day? Yeah, no wonder you feel like shit.

ᡣ𐭩sᴛᴇᴘ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ғʀᴏᴍ sᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ

i know. "But I just use it to relax." Do you? Do you really? Because last time u checked, scrolling through Instagram or tiktok for hours and comparing your life to a bunch of people who only post their highlight reels doesn’t exactly scream relaxation.

Social media is draining u .fr u don’t even realize it half the time, but it’s constantly feeding your brain unrealistic expectations. One second you’re watching someone’s “That Girl” morning routine, and the next, you feel like a failure because you don’t wake up at 5 AM to drink matcha and do yoga on a balcony.

And don’t even get me started on doomscrolling. Like, do I need to know every bad thing happening in the world the second I wake up? No. But do I do it anyway? Also yes. And then I wonder why I feel like shit before my day even starts.

So hear me out pookie log off. Even for just a day. Delete the apps if you have to limit time . Go touch some grass. Read a book. Hell stare at the ceiling if you want. Just give your brain a break from the constant noise. Trust me, you’ll feel a million times lighter.

ᡣ𐭩sᴛᴇᴘ ғᴏᴜʀ: sᴛᴏᴘ ᴍᴇᴀsᴜʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ʙʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛʏ

I used to think that if I wasn’t being productive, I wasn’t worth anything. Like, if I wasn’t working, studying, or doing something “useful,” I was just wasting my life. And if I had a day where I didn’t get anything done? the self-hate would kick in.

But fr your value is not based on how much you do. You are not just a machine made to produce work and complete tasks. You are a human being who deserves to exist without constantly proving yourself.

Think about it .. do you judge your friends based on how productive they are? Do you stop loving someone just because they took a lazy day? No. So why do you do it to yourself?Taking a break doesn’t make you a failure. Resting doesn’t make you lazy. And slowing down doesn’t mean you’re falling behind. Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is give yourself space to breathe.

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛʜᴇ 𝟷-ʜᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇᴛʜᴏᴅ: ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪғᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʙᴜʀɴᴏᴜᴛ

U feel exhausted, unmotivated, and even simple tasks feel like a challenge. You know you need to do something, but damn you can’t even bring yourself to move. I get it.

So here’s the deal We’re not fixing your whole life in one day buuuut Instead, we’re using the 1-Hour Method—because when you’re burnt out, committing to an entire day of productivity feels impossible. But one hour? That’s doable.

Step 1: The One-Hour Reset

You don’t need to “fix” everything. Just commit to one hour of doing something that will make you feel 1% better. That’s it.

⏳ The Rules:

Set a timer for 60 minutes.

Pick 2-3 small things that will make you feel lighter.

Do them with zero pressure. Imperfect action > no action.

Examples:

⏰ Minute 0-10: Get out of bed. Wash your face. Brush your teeth. You don’t need a full “that girl” routine, just refresh yourself.

⏰ Minute 10-20: Make your space 5% cleaner. Not a full deep clean—just clear the trash, fold a blanket, or open the window. Small changes, big difference.

⏰ Minute 20-40: Do one small productive task—answer an email, write one sentence of an essay, organize one folder. Just something that reminds you that you can do things.

⏰ Minute 40-60: Move your body. Stretch, walk around, dance to a song—anything to shake off the mental fog.

One hour down, and I guarantee you’ll feel even slightly better than before.

Step 2: The 1-Hour Rule for Self-Comparison

Nothing drains your energy more than constantly feeling behind in life. Comparing yourself to others? Yeah, that’s a fast track to burnout.But the people u’re comparing yourself to? They have bad days too. They feel lost too. They struggle too. You just don’t see it.

So for the next hour try this:

Write down 3 things you’ve accomplished last days or months No matter how small. Maybe you learned a new skill, took care of yourself on a rough day, or simply kept going when you wanted to quit. That counts.

Unfollow or mute accounts that make you feel “less than.” If it doesn’t inspire you, it’s draining you Simple.

Shift your mindset. Instead of “Why am I not there yet?” ask “How can I grow at my own pace?”

You’re doing better than you think. You don’t need to rush. Your journey is yours.

Step 3: The 1-Hour Rule for Overwhelm

Burnout often comes from having too much on your plate. So, instead of drowning in to-do lists, use this:

→ Pick 1 hour a day to focus on just ONE thing. No multitasking. No distractions. Just one task that actually matters.When you train your brain to handle things one at a time, everything feels less overwhelming.

You don’t have to “get your life together” overnight. You just have to start.

ᡣ𐭩sᴛᴇᴘ ғɪᴠᴇ: ғɪɴᴅ ᴊᴏʏ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ (ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴍᴀ��ʟᴇsᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢs)

I know what you’re thinking “ I don’t even remember what joy feels like.” And I get it. When you’re burnt out, everything feels dull, like life lost its color.But you can bring it back. And no, I’m not saying you need to go on some self-discovery journey. Sometimes, it starts with the smallest things listening to a song you used to love, rewatching a movie that made you happy, making a dumb inside joke with a friend, buying yourself a little treat just because , go through ur old photos, remember ur high grades or whatever makes u joyful and full of love

Joy isn’t always some big Sometimes it’s just a tiny moment that reminds you life isn’t all stress and exhaustion.And the more you find those small moments, the more you start to feel alive again.

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴀsᴛ sᴛᴇᴘ : ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ, ɪ sᴡᴇᴀʀ

If you’re reading this and thinking, “Damn, I don’t even know where to start,” that’s okay. Just start small. Start with one thing whether it’s being kinder to yourself, taking an actual rest day, stepping away from social media, or just reminding yourself that burnout does not define you.Because you will get through this. You’re stronger than you think. And one day, you’re gonna look back at this version of yourself and be so damn proud that you kept going.

Until then? Take it one step at a time or even an hour at the time be gentle with yourself pookie and remember: you are not alone in this.

@bloomzone

[bestalbertcamuslover]

You Are In Love

↳ Masterlist

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing:  Sebastian Vettel x GF! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

Her relationships always seemed to have an expiration date—a rapid ascent, like a rocket, followed by an inevitable crash, gravity grounding what had been weeks of euphoric floating. The cycle repeated itself, a perpetuation of fleeting highs and a final, definitive ick that always ended it.

Romantic love, she had come to realize, was so different from its non-romantic counterpart. One was a firework—intense, intoxicating, but ultimately brief—while the other was a candle, steady and enduring. Perhaps the movies never showed the happily ever after because it didn’t truly exist, she often thought.

And then she started dating Sebastian. Gosh, Sebastian. His copious traveling meant the relationship grew at a slow pace—painfully slow, even. But there were calls, messages, and hours of conversation that built something she hadn’t expected.

After a year together, she braced herself for the crash, for the inevitable descent. Yet it never came. Instead, on a day that had drained her entirely, when she called him trying to sound okay but failing miserably, he noticed immediately. And it hit her, in a way that almost left her breathless—he had become her best friend.

That very same night, after what had been an undeniably gloomy day, she decided to do something wildly impulsive, the kind of romantic gesture that only ever seemed to happen in movies. It felt ridiculous, but it also felt right. Without overthinking it, she booked a late-night flight to the city where the race was taking place. The flight was painfully long—long enough for her to stare out the window, sleep-deprived and questioning every ounce of her decision-making. “Why am I doing this?” she muttered under her breath, smirking at her own absurdity.

With the hotel name and room number handed over by his ever-resourceful assistant—a detail that felt straight out of a rom-com—she finally arrived. By the time she reached the hotel, it was late. Her body screamed for rest, her eyelids heavy and betraying her exhaustion, but she kept pushing forward, driven by something she couldn’t quite explain.

And then there he was, standing in the doorway, his wide, disbelieving grin lighting up his face like the sunrise. “What are you doing here?” he asked, immediately pulling her into his arms without hesitation.

Her head found its home on his shoulder as her body melted into his embrace. The sheer warmth of his presence—and maybe a surge of dopamine—momentarily erased the exhaustion.

“I just felt like it,” she said softly, her voice laced with sleepiness.

He chuckled, shaking his head as if trying to comprehend the spontaneity. “You just felt like it?” he repeated, his laughter bubbling over. “You’re unbelievable.”

Sebastian’s grin softened as he stepped back and took her hand, leading her into the room without a word. She followed, her feet dragging slightly, exhaustion evident in every movement.

“You must be tired,” he said as he closed the door behind them, his voice low but still carrying that unmistakable warmth.

“A little,” she admitted, though her yawn gave her away.

Sebastian chuckled and, without much thought, tugged her gently toward the bed. She didn’t resist, letting him guide her as she kicked off her shoes and crawled onto the soft covers. He followed her, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight as he settled in beside her, lying on his back with one arm stretched out.

She instinctively curled into his side, her head resting on his chest, the sound of his steady heartbeat grounding her. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close, as her body relaxed completely for the first time in hours.

“You know,” she said softly, “I realized something, and don’t let it get to your head, but I think you’re my best friend,” she admitted with a gentle smile.

“What?” he chuckled, clearly confused, “Are you friendzoning your own boyfriend?”

She giggled, shaking her head. “No, no, that’s not what I meant.” She pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes. “I mean, apart from being my amazing and beloved boyfriend, you’ve also become my best friend,” she explained, her smile warm.

He raised an eyebrow, teasing. “You just realized this after a year of dating?”

She nudged him playfully, rolling her eyes. “What I mean is that I’ve never felt anything like this before,” she said, her tone affectionate. “Like ever.”

Sebastian’s teasing grin softened into something more genuine as he looked down at her, his fingers brushing absentmindedly along her arm. “Well, I’m honored,” he said with a mock seriousness that earned another small giggle from her.

“I’m being serious,” she insisted, though the warmth in her voice betrayed the smile tugging at her lips.

“I know,” he murmured, his expression softening even further. “And I like it. Hearing that.”

She let her head rest on his chest again, her smile lingering as his steady breathing soothed her. “Like I think this is the first time I have truly been in love,” she said.

Sebastian’s chest rose and fell beneath her as she traced small, lazy circles on his shirt with her fingertip, her mind spinning with thoughts she couldn’t keep to herself any longer.

“You know,” she started softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t think I ever really knew what romantic love was supposed to feel like until you.”

Sebastian stilled for a moment, his hand pausing in its soothing motion along her back, before continuing again, gentle and steady. “Yeah?” he asked, his tone calm but curious, inviting her to say more.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Gosh, I sound so cheesy,” she chuckled, “but what I mean is I doubt I’ve ever fallen truly in love before.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, his hand stilling briefly on her arm before he shifted to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Then I’m the lucky one,” he murmured, his voice tinged with something almost reverent.

She let out a soft laugh, the sound laced with affection. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He grinned faintly, his lips brushing against her hair as he held her closer. “I know,” he teased, his tone playful but warm.

“But I mean it,” she said, her voice quieter now.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: I just started watching Sex and the City and I thought this scene was too cute:

English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

[tyvalon]

Elloooo am bakk with some daddy Sukuna. heh~

So helloooo everyone!! It's been like two years and what can I say life has been lifing pretty hard but I lived! Also I am back with some Sukuna thirstings on my Ao3 (which you can find here).

I dunno what I'm gonna do, like at all, I have to say. But I've brough the first chapter for y'all, and I hope you're interested cuz I'm not stopping. (I'm too deep in shit - Jjk got me real good, duh).

As always, your thoughts are very welcome! I want to hear what you think about this.

Anyway, I plan on posting Chapter 2 in a few days. Until then, enjoy nibbling on this prologue (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

Cry, Baby

Chapter 1. (Prologue) - Ryomen

The people around you whispered and snickered as you walked through the hallway. Every time, they would bump into you, or avoid you completely, it was either this or that. It didn’t matter if you hung your head low or tried to make minimal, pleading eye contact with them, begging to just ignore your whole existence, but they just wouldn’t care. Most did what they saw best – make your life as miserable as they possibly could.

It was just cruel.

But you couldn’t say you didn’t deserve it.

Cry Baby, they would call you. Because every now and then, your eyes would roll up in tears and everything would go all white and unprocessable. The doctors called these now-and-thens seizures, gave you some useless medicine that only solved things temporarily and give a contact to a good psychologyst they could absolutely recommend. The medicine would not work, and the psychologyst would tell you after a few sessions that you had some trauma regarding your – pretty much nonexistent – father and offer to counsel with your mother to try to figure our something together. Your mom would go to the first, maybe even to the second session and deem the whole thing absolute bullshit and leave therapy. You didn’t really blame her though, it was not exactly cheap, and she did not have the time to dump work hours once a week. She was busy enough as it was.

You would play this chicken-out façade for a few times before your funds were greatly depleted and your energies drained. Your mother grew tired of always taking you to doctors and therapy, and just stuck with two medicines that helped you shorten the duration and intensity of these seizures, which were already taking a toll on her wallet. And you… you just went with it. You wanted to be as little of a burden as you could, and this was the best way to do it. Even if it meant that the whole school was laughing at you, spitting on you, stomping on you. For some reason none of them went as far as directly bullying you, although you got your fare share of the high-school surpression. Maybe it was because most kids were afraid of you.

Cry Baby, they would call you.

Cry Baby, you told yourself.

But it was not your name, and you hated it. Your name was…

"Shidou-san…!"

You looked up to see your class’ quiet boy. His face was barely showing behind his long black hair. His name was Kouta Yamaguchi.

You stopped, already turning to leave the spot. This place was usually empty, because it was under the principal’s window, but he was rarely in his office, so you were prone to come here.

Guess you have to abandon this as well.

You were turning to leave when his voice called out to you. "Wait, sorry! I just… I saw Takashi-san take your lunch and… my mom happened to pack me some extra and I’m not hungry."

You stopped, surprised that he didn’t come here to insult you or tell you to get lost from his newly acquired spot. You looked back at him shyly, as he was holding a carefully packed bento in his hands. "I was… would you care to eat it together? I mean, maths starts in a few, and…"

"You should go now," you spoke softly. "Takashi-san and the others are going to pour juice on your head or make fun of you if they see you with me."

"They won’t! They won’t see me and they won’t see you," he objected quickly, but you cut him off.

"If this is some joke they got you to play on me…"

"It’s not, I promise!" Yamaguchi took a step forward, but you took a step back to maintain the distance. "I swear it’s nothing like that. I just… I saw you reading Solo Leveling during break and… I like that manga, too. I though it would be nice to talk about it."

He then proceeded to pull out volume three of your favourite manga from his backpack. Your eyes widened. "Where did you get this? I’ve been trying to hunt down volume three for weeks!" You said, walking towards him. He smiled softly and reched his hand out to you.

"Would you like to read it? I just finished it, so I don’t need it right now. I know you take care of your books so I could lend it to you."

You almost got your hand to take the manga from him, but stopped midway. Your smile faded, and he noticed it as well. "It’s… really kind of you, but…"

You felt a hand on your arm. You glanced up to see Yamaguchi looking at you, his brown eyes sparkling sadly.

You hated this. Pity.

But it was a bit better than hate.

"I’m sorry I never talked to you. Truth is, I have wanted to speak to you for some time, but I never worked up the courage," he admitted, face turning red, eyes darting to the ground. You were absolutely taken aback by this. "Then I saw you reading Solo Leveling and thought, ’that’s my favourite manga, it must me a sign!’ So… do you want to meet here after class today? To talk about mangas?"

And this is how your first true friendship started. One meeting turned into another, and day after day you two secretly snuck out to the back of the school to talk about mangas and animes you both liked. Turns out, you had much more in common than you would’ve tought. As time went on, your seizures almost vanished to thin air, especially at school, though you always remained the Cry Baby, people eventually stopped picking on you. Yamaguch and you grew closer and closer, graduated together, and applied to the same college. As years went on, that first talk under the principal’s window seemed so distand now.

Until your seizures came back.

One moment you were laughing about how Igris was drawn so poorly in a panel, and the next you were lying on the floor of Yamaguchi’s bedroom, eyes rolled back while weeping uncontrollably and shaking violently. He freaked out and called and ambulance while his parents tried to do their best to prevent you from choking. You were rushed to the hospital. The episode lasted about ten minutes, which was by far the longest one you have ever had. Your body was so exhausted that you didn’t wake up for four consecutive days.

During those days, you remember your mother’s, Yamaguchi’s and nurses’ voices overlapping eachother. It was all blurry and mushed together, you couldn’t really make out the meaning of those words and sentences, only forming them into unrelating dreams. Nothing seemed to be significant or meaningful.

But one thing you remembered clearly – a silhouette with four arms and tattoos as black as the night sky after a bloodbath. He had four blue eyes, and you heard a word that echoed when it looked at you, into your very soul.

Ryomen.

-- > chapter two

[cautious-soup]

Obsessive(and in denial)!Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Part 1

Summary: Suguru subsists himself on haunting your dreams, but he knows it isn't enough.

CW// metaphysical non-con, degreding monologues directed at reader, stalking, weirdo behavior, delulu Geto

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After a week, you don't sleep anymore. Well, you close your eyes, and your consciousness goes somewhere else, but it isn't sleep. You wake up exhausted, scared, confused, and drained, so drained.

And you feel like you're being watched.

Social obligations become chores, you don't play games with your students anymore, the other faculty notice and start to gossip. It only makes things worse, especially since you were already an other due to your status as a foreigner.

Suguru likes how miserable you are, it's a sign of his handiwork. He lingers at the corners of your mind, watching and waiting, and making sure you're always mentally on your back foot.

Daily tasks grow into mountains that you have to climb, but you climb them. "This too shall pass." you repeat like a mantra. It helps most when you're at your worst, because knowing the pain will pass makes you work harder.

This is, of course, much to Suguru's chagrin.

Slowly, his grip on you begins to loosen, and we can't have that can we?

In all honesty, he just wanted an excuse to follow you again. He wanted to see you in person, and watch you go about your day from afar.

Steeped in denial about the above fact, his contempt towards you grows.

He tries to justify his fixation on you in numerous ways, chief among them being that you're an 'experiment'. All of these conflicting emotions roil inside of him to the point where he has to fight to keep them down.

You, a weakling, capturing his attention so. It was humiliating. Yet here he is, and there you are, at the front of his mind.

Always.

He's outside of the kobini again, you're loaded up on snacks because it's the quickest way to cope.

"Y/N," he says your name like last time, and your spine feels incased in ice, "I trust you've been well?"

You feel an edge to his voice, and clutch your bag. Had you caught the attention of a weirdo?

"Ah well," you look down, and when you look back up, he's right in front of you, "ugh-"

You take a step back, he tilts his head at you, "Is something the matter?"

This feeling is familiar.

"N-no, I'm fine," you swallow down the tension rising in your chest and bow, "Thank you again for everything,"

You leave, and Suguru follows you.

He finds fascination in the mundanity of your life, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to live among weaklings, be submerged in their presence. It was suffocating.

He watches you climb the stairs to your apartment, string up your laundry, grade papers, make dinner, sit down and watch TV.

What a simple existence. It was all the more infuriating that you'd come close to shrugging his influence off, and for what? What in your pathetic life was more important than him?

You talk on the phone with one of your parents for a while, pacing the length of your room. When that's over, you play video games, and when you're too tired for that, you lay curled up in bed on your phone. Anything but sleep.

You scroll through funny memes and videos, and you can't laugh. It's all you can do to stay awake as it is. But eventually your grip slackens, and your eyes slip shut.

Suguru has to bite back a wild grin when you're finally vulnurable.

The darkness in your dreams lets you struggle and fight back, lets you think you'll win. You bite, scratch, thrash against it, but freeze when you feel it start to wander. You squeeze your eyes shut and grit your teeth, the worst part has begun.

Cold terror sluices over you first, then shameful heat. Your breath hitches as the darkness opens your legs and creeps up your thighs.

Right before it reaches its goal, for the first time, it speaks to you.

"Y/N," it purrs, vibrating against your skin as it speaks, "pretending is pointless. And why bother? It's your mind after all."

You whimper, but it clamps itself over your mouth. You flinch when it flicks itself against your inner thigh.

"Worthless," it says, "whore, why did you stop fighting? You want this, don't you,"

You clench your fist as it nudges against your cunt, it keeps your legs spread and mouth gagged. It all feels so real.

Like usual, the darkness has its way with you, plunging past your folds impossibly deep, groping your thighs, squeezing your tits--everywhere. Only this time, cruel laughter resonates around whatever space you're in. It mocks you when you clench, or try to break free. It degrades you after every orgasm, each one making you question just how long you've been here. It pulls at your hair and wrenches your head back, pooling and overflowing in your mouth.

"Please," you cry, but you don't know what you're begging for. The darkness does though, and brings you over the edge one last time.

"HUGH, UGH--" you cough when you wake up, still choking on that darkness. You swear you feel it pooling from the corners of your mouth, but the back of your hand comes back clean after you swipe it against your lips.

You sag from exhaustion, then tense right back up.

A sihlouette stands at the foot of your bed, still and silent. You scream, nearly knocking over your lamp and leaping out of bed, heart plunging to your stomach and crawling up your throat at the same time.

It's gone though, of course it's gone.

As you stand there panting, you feel a familiar slickness between your legs, heat. Your shoulders shake, and a sound bubbles from your throat. You're not laughing or crying, something in between. You really were shameless.

And Suguru agreed.

Part 3

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Author's Note: I just thought I'd mention, I haven't finished jjk yet, so sorry if anything is off or inaccurate. This is all pretty spur of the moment writing. Please let me know if you wanna see anything else, be it characters, themes, prompts, I love new ideas :)

[eldritch-spouse]

real sorry if you've already written sumthin like this, I just found yer account for the first time in like, a year after my first account got deactivated. I'm backreadin and got an idea for Santi.

So first off, can concubi feed off each other? Would that be like, an infinite food glitch or sumthin?

Secondly, how would Santi be around a concubi who very much doesn't understand/know their heritage? For example, say they were raised in a very conservative human household or sumthin. To the point, they're practically a virgin (if concubi are even able to be), and only know about that sort of stuff in the technical sense if at all.

Sorry if this ain't your kinda thing, I was jus curious mostly!

[Hellow!]

TW: Rape

I've detailed this, but I can condense some of it here.

Concubi don't feed off each other. In fact, that's how they fight. Concubi in fights will essentially sexually assault each other, and whoever's winning is the one that manages to siphon more energy out of the other. These fights often get uglier, and can result in death.

Concubi couples exist, but their feeding is complex. A concubi couple will often refuse to feed from each other to avoid energy drain, choosing instead outside meals to share. Even then, it's possible they can snap at each other when sensing one is taking too much of a portion. This means there has to be great chemistry between these concubi, or things will tumble fairly fast.

Rank differences affect this, as a high-ranker will naturally have more ease siphoning energy from a mid or imp.

Since someone else asked, no, penetration is not necessary for feeding. If a concubus is truly desperate, they can feed off your arousal and desire alone if they must. An orgasm caused by them would be preferred.

I don't think a fully grown concubus can truly be a virgin for long. The hunger would drive them wild at some point. Because to keep this state, said concubus is basically thinking about "eating" 24/7, given they never eat enough to sustain themselves. It'd be a painful existence. Possible, but miserable.

Santi may not attack you or feel territorial of you in such a case. He doesn't particularly feel like harming people he considers disabled by concubi standards. And you... A concubi in perpetual malnourishment, must certainly have some kind of disability in his mind.

He considers your current circumstances to be abusive to your nature, and while he wouldn't thrust you into Hell immediately -You might go feral, honestly- He will eventually catch a meal for you and sort of drop it at your feet like a conflicted animal.

You're... You're like, dying in front of him.

Please just feed off this mess of a human he found.

If it helps, they are also a virgin.

Santi is hoping you will understand what to do, or find your way around. But surely, your starved body can't resist this melting person in his arms practically mewling at you.

He thinks you'd look much better when properly fed. Let's find out.

[deathbxnny]

HI LOVEE!!!

ok, this is a once in a lifetime occasion because I am obsessed with WuWa.

May I request an angst to fluff fic with Husband! Jiyan?

So, fem reader as always! As we all know the busy General spends most of his time at the front lines, but he always makes sure to send his sweet wife some gifts back! But she can't help but feel a bit neglected by him, missing him too much and some people's loud mouths talking bad about their relationship did not help either, so what happens when Jiyan returns home to surprise his wife but finds her crying silently instead? I'll leave that to you!!

I just love him sm, he's my lovely main! what's your team pookie? I'll share mine! Jiyan (main DPS) Encore (sub DPS) and Verina (Healer), sometimes I switch Encore with Rover (I chose the female one, which one did you choose?)

anyways, love you, keep yourself hydrated and rest! sweet flowers for my sweet bxnny → 💐🌻🌺

I saw angst and felt the voices (angst demons) attempt to take over lmao.

But my current team is usually made out of Calcharo, Verina, and Yinlin (I sometimes change out either Calcharo or Yinlin with my boy Jiyan tho, depending on what I'm fighting-). I also chose the female Rover, btw! She's just so cute!^^

So with that all said, thank you for the request, and I hope you'll love this too, dear moot!!<33

Content: Female/afab reader, husband Jiyan, some angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of paranoia, death (not of reader or Jiyan), mentions of war, sfw

Reader is afab!

((Not proofread))

When he's gone for too long. (Husband!Jiyan x Fem!Reader)

Your excitement dies when you open the front door in the hope of seeing your husband, only to be faced with a soldier instead. He stands there calmly, face expressionless like all the others before him, as he holds out an intricate package to you. If you didn't know any better, you would've knocked it out of his hands.

"A package for you, my lady. From the general." The man hummed, waiting patiently for you to take it. He didn't shy away from the anger in your eyes, the pain and pure annoyance, that was then stilled with a deep breath. They were used to it by now.

"Thank you." You said, the package feeling heavy in your hands when you shut the door behind you again wordlessly. Not seeing the way the soldier opened his mouth once more to say something else.

Something that would've quelled the anger in your heart.

You threw the gift on a pile next to the door, dust slightly filling the air when it hit the many others that came before it. It wasn't that you weren't grateful or happy. But you also just wanted your husband to be here instead. You wanted him to hand you these gifts. Him to be the one that appears at your door after being gone for so long.

It angered you that he wasn't here, even if you knew why.

Being a general was difficult and draining. It forced him to stay out on the frontlines for weeks and even months on end with minimal communication, if any at all. His solution was, therefore, to simply send his wife lavish gifts in hopes of making her feel less lonely, but he knew better than to believe that it ultimately worked in the long run.

Your anger made you feel selfish, and the guilt made you feel worse. You were stuck in an inescapable cycle that was impossible to break out of. Leaving the home for a break was impossible as well. No matter where you went, the pity filled looks and taunting whispers seemed to haunt you. It made you barely step out of the house. You couldn't do it, not without him.

It was a miserable existence, and yet you never voiced your woes to Jiyan either. You didn't want to burden him with such troubles when he had worse things to worry about. He had been through atrocities he could never even speak of, so surely you could survive the couple weeks without him, right? He was keeping you all safe, his sacrifices were important. Even if it was at the cost of your sanity.

But now that you sat here in the darkness of your living room all alone, you realise that you perhaps never accepted the neglect as much as you wanted to. You felt horrible, the guilt eating you alive whilst you shed endless tears and hid your face in your hands, body shaking and trembling with every sob. It was unfair. It wasn't right. You had to wipe away the agony and be strong for him. You shouldn't act like this.

What would the people think if they saw the generals wife crying over him performing his duties? They'd mock you even more, shake their heads in disappointment, give you lethal looks that burned you from the inside out. The embarrassment, the shame... you internalized it all until this very moment. You had finally burst at the seams, and just as you thought that you'd have to suffer through this alone as usual, a gentle, calloused hand cupped yours softly.

"My love?" His voice startled you, a gasp leaving your lips as you attempted to pull away and turn your head in panic. You didn't hear him approach you. Heart sinking in your chest, you realised that he was sitting right next to you, his other hand resting on your back to keep you in place against him. You couldn't breathe, as you panted heavily.

"What happened to you? Did something happen in my absence? I sent a soldier to send you a message about my return, but..." His eyes swayed to the pile gifts near the doorway, his heart clenching when he began piecing together what may have caused your plight. Despite you thinking otherwise, his observant eyes caught onto more than he let on. He wasn't blind or deaf to what the general public seemed to think of you, nor was he that unaware of your pain and neglect. He himself felt pain for his actions, even if he had no true choice in them. It's a sacrifice that had to be made as long as there was a threat to the city and most importantly your life out there.

But now, as he sat there, your face pushed to his chest as you cried, and his heart cracked under the pressure of your tears, he realised that he didn't need to sacrifice your well-being this much as well. You didn't deserve it.

"Please... don't leave me like this again." Your words were quiet, so quiet that he nearly didn't catch them, but his mind and soul were only focused on you. His gaze softened as his hand ran through your hair before he pressed his head against yours in solidarity. He didn't want it to get this far. He didn't want to make you cry until even air couldn't enter your lungs.

Perhaps he had overworked himself far too hard. Perhaps he had been gone for longer than he needed to... but that will stop now.

"My apologies, my love. It won't happen again. I will try staying for longer now..." He trailed off, as he kissed your forehead and wiped away your tears. He knew he had alot to make up for, but he wasn't the type to back down from such an important mission.

And the smallest relieved smile on your tired face made it worth it.

Alrighttt... I hope this was okay! I admittedly wrote this half asleep, so I'm praying it's not terrible lmao... Anyway, thank you again for the great request, moot!!<33

[trynafindbarbiee]

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH NOW

I didn't thought I would do it, because it's only gonna waste my time and energy but y'all are getting out of your boundaries now.

None of this matters to me at all. I'm not obligated to prove myself; it's ultimately futile in my opinion. Although I've proven myself two or maybe three times already, I'm living my life peacefully, so why should these miserable people matter to me? I won't even remember after a while nor your pathetic opinions about me 💀!!

No matter what I say, there will always be doubters, and there will always be those who believe. It's not my job to convince people of my experiences or beliefs, and I don't have to prove myself to anyone. I'm living my life peacefully, and I don't need external validation from anyone. I'm grateful for my experiences, and I don't need anyone else's approval to know they're real.

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Why are you charging money when u have manifested trillions of dollars in the void :

I could manifest endless money into the void, but that's not the case. Even after entering the void, we still have jobs, we eat, we sleep, we live normal lives like ordinary people. There's a renowned blogger on Tumblr (I won't name her) who has also entered the void yet continues to work. Helping people through my abilities is my choice and I like it and so I seek compensation for it.

Even after entering the void and manifesting various things, you will still desire activities that bring you joy. You will starting to want to live a normal life. Eventually, you will become accustomed to manifesting everything instantly from the void, and it will cease to excite you.

If I really wanted to scam, I could have charged $500 or so, but I didnt, and still being called out as a "scammer"? $12 ain't gonna make me rich.

While there have been scammers within the community, it does not follow that every person offering a paid (and reasonably priced) service is a scammer.

You can't manifest for others :

How dumb of you all to say this.

"everything is possible"

Proceeds with "you can't manifest for others, stop lying"

Ultimately, it boils down to one's assumptions. If you believe it's a scam and that it won't work for you, then that will likely be the outcome. Is that not so? Now, do I gotta explain all the fundamentals to you all?

IT IS POSSIBLE TO MANIFEST FOR OTHERS (speaking from my own experience), and if you think otherwise, you simply have a limited mindset.

"It will only happen in your reality, not theirs." Not everyone believes in the existence of infinite realities, and it's okay to have different beliefs. However, if you do believe they exist, then this is what the truth would be, FOR YOU.

You are a male/boy, because your payment account is having a name of a boy :

I'm astounded by the sheer ignorance and absurdity in some individuals questioning someone's gender based on the name on the name of the payment account.

Are you all seriously assuming I'm male just because the account name is masculine? Common sense seems to be lacking here. I'm using my cousin's account. Is there a problem with that? I am merely utilizing my cousin's account. Please refrain from making such baseless assumptions.

She shows you her writings as proof and the photo she says as proof is her necklace and phone photo :

If you choose not to believe them, then so be it. What do you want me to do? To me, they are sufficient as "proof." If they are not for you, then fine, I won't put myself in a situation where my privacy would be breached just for the sake of "PROVING" to you that I really entered the void.

First, you all desperately demand proof, but when someone provides it, you claim it's fake. Nevermind, be stuck in this cycle:)

Why on earth do people persist with these baseless assumptions and relentless demands for validation? It's utterly draining and disheartening. If my evidence isn't enough, there's absolutely nothing I can do. What else do they expect? It's not my responsibility to prove my authenticity to anyone.

Read this ask

Reading that you should have realised that nothing can ever be enough for you all as proof.

And if you don't believe in those then why are you even in this community? What is making you believe those writings of others saying, you can have your dream life in a day, are true?

"trynafindbarbiee you don't have to deal with these manifest things, you can enter the void instantly anyway, why don't you live your life instead of wasting your time here?". - shouldn't it apply to all bloggers now? 💀

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

Anyone who's charging for their services isn't a scammer always. Accusations of such reflect a limited mindset. It is indeed possible to manifest for others, and some individuals in this community have successfully done so.

The community has become more cautious about distinguishing fraudulent offers from authentic ones. I find it absolutely hilarious that you all label such offers as a scam, as if $12 could somehow make a person rich overnight. It's honestly quite amusing!

Now, one bad comment about me = BLOCKED !! I don't have time to waste on limited minded peoples, who not knowing a thing about me, proceeds to call me a scammer.

So, now, stop with your pointless assumption about me. And do better + get a life <3

And THANKYOU to everyone who are still with me and refusing to believe the nonsense going about me on here. I may not reply to your postive asks but know that I love you all !! 🤝🏻💞

[lilithyvenus]

acknowledging your mother wound and how to heal it - pick a card reading

hello there. i thought this would be a great introduction to my reading style, especially fitting as it's a monday. it's painful to accept that your mother was your first enemy. although the idea of a mother as we've been taught and shown onscreen (both big and small) is worth examining in itself (being self-sacrificial in vain, being one dimensional, etc), one should still be able to count on their mother to nurture their emotions. i hope you can find wholeness, with or without her.

for today's pile selection, we have marina as the housewife archetype from her electra heart era. extremely fitting with the album and the persona being an exploration of wounded versions of different feminine archetypes.

group one

your cards: strength in reverse + seven of cups in reverse + six of wands + judgment

your mother has instilled in you a fear of being seen, particularly in regards to achieving public-facing dreams. whether she was conscious of it or not, she has taught you to expect negative criticism and to be mistrustful of your own skill and capability. for those of you who are fat, she probably didn't even realise that her trying to make you smaller as a way to secure you better treatment in the world just reinforced that it's your body that makes you unworthy of adoration. you exist to be seen and valued for what you have to offer. this is not to say you won't be envied or spoken badly of, but that it is in the figurative cards for you to thrive, but only if you take the plunge. you work towards healing this wound by understanding that she was projecting onto you, clumsily attempting to save you from scrutiny, and most likely butter about her own dreams remaining unfulfilled. it is not my place to tell you to forgive her, only to understand that you have access to media that tells you you can be more, and she likely didn't at your age.

your channeled songs + films + books

- the beauty myth by naomi wolf

- i'm coming out by diana ross

- wicked (both the book and the musical; the former to explore how one is taught to loathe themselves and the latter to remember you can liberate yourself)

group two

your cards: eight of wands + knight of pentacles + queen of wands in reverse + seven of cups

similar to group one, your mother actively discourages you from pursuing your goals. however, she's definitely aware of what she's doing. she knows the power of her words over you, and she is masterful at making it seem like the seeds of doubt she plants are yours. she is draining you because it's easier to live with herself if you're both miserable, and you actually need to leave if you can. you heal this wound by accepting that she is absolutely the adult here and she knows better; there's only so much empathy you can have for someone who chooses to be cruel. you're being asked to remember that there's people around you who can help get you out of this, and that you don't have to gather proof of anything; you know she's making you feel awful, that's reason enough to hate her presence. for someone, it's okay to hold hate for her, it doesn't make you a bad person.

your channeled songs + films

- starring role by marina

- mother dearest

- girls in the hood by megan thee stallion

group three

your cards: queen of wands + eight of swords in reverse + king of wands in reverse + king of pentacles in reverse

is your mum homophobic and/or transphobic? first of all, she'll be dead in no time so she won't force you into heteronormative performance your whole life, don't worry. seriously though, someone here is being forced to perform a gender or a sexuality that doesn't align with them because their hating ass mum won't mind her own fucking business. in general, your mother is actively suppressing you learning how to stand by and for yourself. she has kept you from getting to explore who you are, expecting nothing but Good ChildTM from you, and whether she's aware of it or not, it's limiting your growth both internally and in the material world. you're being asked to acknowledge that you weren't made the way you are by accident, the only actual issue is bigotry that surrounds you. that is to say, trans and queer people aren't accidents, they just exist in a world full of bigots. what you can do is fully embrace yourself, because that's how you'll find your chosen family.

your channeled songs + films

- holy by jamila woods

- stone butch blues by leslie feinberg

- freaky friday (the one with lilo)

[jesterwriting]

scenario: stuck in a timeloop and the only way to restart is to die

pairing: sanji x reader, law x reader, ace x reader (separate)

contents: hurt/comfort, angst, gore, im serious about the gore tw, graphic description of death, post traumatic symptoms, maybe a touch of survivors guilt, breakdowns, time loops, if youve seen rezero you know whats up

word count: 1.6k words

note: okay if theres one thing i love, its angst and hurt comfort, and if there’s one thing i do when i write it, i go crazy with it. my hands were genuinely shaking while i wrote this. hope you enjoy! [evil laughter]

playlist: eleanor by cake bake betty

No matter how many times you died, you couldn’t help but scream when you woke up again. You lost count how many times it happened, and it wasn’t like there was any point in keeping count besides depressing yourself with your numerous failures. This was your power; horrible and nowhere near worth the cost of losing your ability to swim. With every death, you would restart back at a random checkpoint, beginning anew, able to change the way the timeline went. All it took was to die, and lord above, did you die. Sometimes it was quick, other times it was an agony that would haunt you for many loops after.

Your power left you lonely. Friendships you made in one timeline, didn’t exist in others. You remembered when you were young and greeted a friend from a past loop with a hug. Of course, they didn’t know who you were. They no longer remembered the adventures you experienced or the trials you endured, only you held those memories now. They pushed you away with a look of distress, and you cried for hours after that, burdened with the knowledge that whatever friendship you had before, was gone forever now.

You isolated yourself after that.

It wasn’t until recently that you found yourself with a crew, though no one knew of your ability. You hated talking about it, hated reliving each death again and again. Every time you felt strong enough to speak about it, you always ended up dying and resetting everything back to the status quo. You were surrounded by friends, but so completely, and utterly alone. It was a worm in your gut, chewing on you from within and tearing you apart.

Now, here you were. Dying again.

Failing again.

Your eye spasmed in your skull, the other nothing more than jelly in your socket. The taste of iron pooled in your mouth as you hunched over, organs squirming like maggots from the wound on your abdomen. Sobs wracked your body. With shaking hands, you scooped your entrails into the crook of your arm in hopes that you could put them back inside of you. They were slimy and warm, and you were reminded of eels, or perhaps hagfish.

Everything hurt. You were so afraid, you couldn’t breathe. There was a loud bang and a heavy pressure on your chest. Or maybe, your inability to catch your breath stemmed from the bullet that had pierced through your ribcage and into your lungs. When did that happen? You didn’t know, you didn’t care, all you knew was that you didn’t want to die.

Of course, you didn’t get a say in the matter. Before you knew it, your muscles were going slack and your body was crumpling to the ground. Blood poured from between your lips as your tongue wagged numbly in your mouth. If you weren’t careful, you might bite it off. It had happened before, and you died drowning in your own blood rather than to the slow drain of your wounds. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could have been saved then.

Not now, though. Your guts were supposed to be inside you, not spewed and steaming on the ground.

And, just like that, it was over.

You awoke in bed and screamed. With gasping breaths, your hands frantically felt the intact skin of your belly, and your bulletless chest. Though you were safe, the ghost of your pain lingered like a knife against your back. Sobs tore from your throat as you curled in on yourself.

It had been a long time since a death this bad. So lost in your own misery — again, again, it happened again, why won’t it stop? — you didn’t hear the door open until it was too late.

“Black Leg” Sanji

Sanji was across the room, scooping you into his arms before you were able to blink. You gasped and squirmed slightly as he rubbed your back. A part of you was still there, bleeding out on the ground, and your heart wouldn’t stop hammering wildly in your chest, even as Sanji murmured sweet nothings into your ear. Phantom pain gripped you, and your stomach clenched when you remembered just how slimy your insides were as you tried to put them back where they belonged.

“I’m here, love, I’m here.”

That only made you cry more. Your breath hitched as you gripped the back of his dress shirt in your fist and buried your face into the crook of his neck. You were hyperventilating, afraid that the bullet in your chest followed you into this loop, threatening to drag you under again. You died in Sanji’s arms once before, and the terror on his face had etched itself into your brain forever. It couldn’t happen again, you would drag yourself away to die alone under a rock if you could help it.

Sanji’s hand shook as he stroked your hair. “What happened? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Finally, you caught your breath and wiped the tears from your face. With a watery smile, one you were sure was nowhere near as convincing as you wanted if Sanji’s worried expression was anything to go by.

“I had a nightmare,” You said.

If Sanji knew you were lying, he didn’t say anything. He only held you while you desperately pretended that you had stopped trembling.

Trafalgar Law

Law was the last person who you wanted to see like this. He carried too much already. You were sure that he would crumble if he knew the weight you had been carrying right under his nose. Frantic, you pawed at your face to remove the evidence of your breakdown as if he hadn’t heard you screaming moments before.

“Hey,” He said softly, crouching beside you to gently grab you by the shoulders. Law squeezed, and you took a shaky breath and remembered where you were. You weren’t dying alone in the middle of nowhere, you were on the Polar Tang, with Law, somewhere on the Grand Line.

You sniffled and cracked a small smile. “Hey.”

Unwanted visions of your previous death assaulted you from behind your eyes. A sharp gasp tore from your throat as your arms snaked around your middle to hold your organs inside. It still hurt, why did it still hurt? You were safe now, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Gently, Law pried your arms from your abdomen and pulled up your shirt to inspect it. “I don’t see any external injuries…”

You watched the possibility of an internal injury flit across his face. Before the word ‘room’ left his lips, you shook your head and choked on another sob.

“I had a dream I died,” You admitted the half truth with the sour taste of bile on your tongue.

Law’s brows knit and he let out a small, “Ah.”

Awkward, not yet used to the affection you bestowed upon him so readily, he wrapped his long arms around you with a small pat on your back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“If I died, you need to know I would never blame you.” It came out of nowhere, but it was the only thing you could think to say. The truth was, you would blame yourself, you had a lot of experience doing that, though you thought better of saying that aloud.

Law didn’t say anything in response, his thumb rubbing gentle circles between your shoulder blades.

Portgas D. Ace

“What happened? Why are you crying?” Ace was talking before he even reached you, pulling you against his bare chest before you even had a chance to realize he was here. His scent filled your nose, filled your head, until you were hysterical and pulling him as close as possible.

“Was someone here? Did someone hurt you?” With his righteous anger, his body temperature rose as harmless flames licked your fingers. All you could do was cry, so captivated with the man in front of you, your death was all but forgotten.

“No, no, I’m okay.” You pulled back to study his face, your own stained with snot and tears. He practically glowed in the moonlight that streamed through your window. Even at night, Ace shone like the sun. Your clumsy hands found his freckles, sweeping across the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks to his lips. Flesh and bone, alive and whole. You sobbed harder, low keening whines ripping from your throat before you could stop them.

“Had- Had a dream you were gone.”

Ace pulled you tighter against him. “Oh, babe, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

With your fingers tangled in his hair, Ace rocked you back and forth, hushing you softly while you wished to tear open your ribcage and keep him safe inside your body forever. The only way to get to him would be to rip you apart, and even then, you would come back again, stronger than ever. No one would be able to take him from you. You had died too many times to count, faced pain time and time again, there was no torture you wouldn’t endure if it meant you wouldn’t lose your sun.

How many loops had it been? How many times have you had to watch Ace die?

You’d save him this time, you would make sure of it.

[silassinclair]

Introduction!!

Yandere Ghost x Reader

CW// Suicidal Thoughts, Paranormal Activity, Murder Mention

My other yand OC Maddox was a hit with ya’ll so here’s a short introduction of a new oc!! Hope you like him as much as I do. This is gonna be very boring because it’s an introduction but I’ll make a oneshot right after this one!!

Masterlist!!

“This key unlocks every door in the manor. Except the door to the attic for some reason, but there’s nothing of importance up there. Apparently it’s just some old junk the first owner left.” The agent said with a tight lipped smile. Her matte red lipstick was as bright as a stop sign.

Taking the key from her hand you’re surprised to feel how heavy it is. “Thank you.” You mutter.

“All the legalities are settled so she’s all yours. I recommend blasting that ivy off the side wall of the house though. The roots can mess up the brick.” The agent adds.

“Alright, I appreciate the tip.” You say and shut the door in her face, leaving you alone in your new home.

Maria was a total pain in the ass, like all people who work with selling things. Oh and for the record, you like the ivy that grows on the side of your new home. Makes it look pretty and natural. Anyways, her being gone was like a breath of fresh air. All was good now that you finally had a place to call home.

Your Grandfather died and in the will he left you his summer home in Italy. It was a grand manor that was located on a hilltop surrounded by forrest. It was perfect for your hermit self. Never in your life would you imagine leaving the states to come live in Italy but here you were. After all the manor was handed to you on a silver platter, the offer would be foolish to refuse.

There was nothing for you in the states. Your life was miserable, draining, and filled with nothing but painful repetition. Being worked like a machine and stepped on like a doormat. Having a horrid and overly possessive ex boyfriend who was a serial cheater didn’t help either. You were so close to ending your miserable existence until a woman named Maria gave you a call.

And now you were here, standing in the foyer of your new home. Some work would need to be done. Floors needed polishing, corners dusting, windows wiping. Maybe you should make a checklist?

"This is gonna be a long day.." You think to yourself.

"There she is again. She must be the new owner." I think to myself as I watch the young woman clean the floor.

The past owner, Lorenzo, must have passed away and put the ownership of the manor into this girl's hands. It has been a while since I’ve seen the old man. But did he have to put my home in the hands of some uncultured American? I find this terribly irresponsible of him, I mean look at her!

She's using a bleach based product on the hardwood! Lorenzo was a good owner of the Verona manor. He hired staff to keep it well maintained and he rarely ever visited. But this girl... she's an utter buffoon. Before she can torture the hardwood any longer I swiftly hover behind her and move the bottle a few feet away from her while she isn't looking.

"Huh?" When she reaches for the bottle she finds it has moved away. I snicker at her confused reaction.

"It was just right here..."

She reaches over and grabs it again but before she does I kick it, sending it flying across the foyer and hitting the front door.

“Any minute now she’ll run away screaming, she won’t even look back.” I think to myself with a devious grin.

But when I hover in front of her I only see an annoyed expression on her face.

“Uhm… Did I do something wrong?” She says.

I freeze, is she not afraid? Why was she talking as if she were talking to someone? Can she see me?

“I asked if I did something to upset you.”

And then her eyes move up and look right into mine. For the first time in centuries I feel as if I have ignited, that I am alive and that my heart once again beats like all other human beings.

“You… Can you see me?” I ask hesitantly, afraid that if I may speak too loudly she’ll scamper away like a mouse.

Her soft lips part slightly as she nods.

He told me his name was Dante Verona. He was the original owner of the Verona manor and he comes from an Italian royal family. But he was assassinated centuries ago in this very manor during a masquerade party. So I assume that his spirit is trapped here. He was wearing an intricate black, red, and white Venetian mask that hid his face. He wore matching black and red noble attire and his hair was a curly dark chocolate brown that went down to his neck.

Overall he was a total mystery. His entire existence was perplexing to me. Yes I do believe in the paranormal but never would I think I’d meet a real life ghost.

“I assume your grand father is Lorenzo? Has he passed on?” Dante asks, cutting through the thick silence.

I blink a few times, maybe if I blink hard enough he’ll disappear and that’ll confirm that this was all just my imagination. So I blink, but Dante’s translucent self is still hovering in front of me. The blank expression of his mask makes me slightly uneasy. I couldn’t get a read on the guy at all.

Coughing, I finally answer, “Uhm yeah… He was my grand father. He left me this manor in his will. And he didn’t mention any ghosts or anything like that.” I add.

“Lorenzo couldn’t see me. You’re the first to see me actually.” Dante says. His voice sounded smooth but the mask muffled it slightly. But he also sounded like he was in pain. I wonder how long he’s been here, trapped in this manor.

“So this whole time you were all alone?”

“Yes.” He softly replies. “Just me. Only my spirit is here.”

“That must be hard.” I say, but not in a pitying sounding way. The last thing he wants is pity probably.

Dante hovers away and I follow him into the living room. Looking up I see him hover up to the chandelier. He looks down at me, I can see his dark green irises through the black holes of the mask.

“Every day is hard. God has cursed me, rejected my entry into the heavens.” His voice cracks. "My death occurred in the very room we are in."

I look around the oriental room we are in. It has been modernized over the years, but I can imagine how it looked in his century. The masked party people, music, drinks, lies and deception. All of it in the room we are in but centuries before.

"My killer has not been found but I know they are long dead. Knowing that they burn in hell brings me peace. And I have learned to accept that I am to remain here.”

Then he rambles on about his life story. The tragedies he lived through, the friends he made and lost, wars and battles faced, and lovers went and gone. But I don't mind that this conversation is one sided. He has had no one to talk to for centuries so he deserves a listener.

"I apologize my lady. I have droned on for far too long. It's impolite..." Dante says in a dejected tone. But I reassure him.

"Y-You're okay! I understand. You haven't had someone to talk to in a long time I imagine. Besides, I found your life story very interesting."

Dante hovers down to where I'm sat on the couch. He also sits beside me. Leaning in close he tilts his masked face to the side as he comes closer to mine. I move away slightly; his body emits an eerie chill.

"Tell me about you. What is your name?" He asks, his eyes twinkle with an emotion unknown to me.

"I'm Y/n L/n. I originally lived in the United States, but I moved here as you know." I mutter. I've never been one to talk a lot anyways.

Dante looks me up and down. His fingers reach out causing me to flinch back, but he goes to touch the fabric of my black dress rather than my skin. To my surprise his fingers can touch the fabric, they don’t phase through it.

"Why do you wear black? Are you a widow? Has your husband passed on?" He asks softly.

I feel myself giggle slightly and he looks up at me with probably a confused expression.

"I've never been married silly, I'm only 23 years old.”

Dante’s emerald eyes widen. “23 and unmarried? Has the societal norm changed? Because my sister was married off to her husband when she was 16.”

I cringe physically. “Oooh yeah, lots of things have changed. But also I’m wearing black because it’s just my style. It’s called goth, it’s a music based style. I can tell you about it sometime.”

Dante looks at me like I’ve grown three heads. I can see it in his eyes.

“Ahem- Anyways. Why do you wear that mask?” I ask.

Dante breaks the eye contact and looks down at the side. “It does not come off. No matter how hard I try to remove it, it only stays. I cannot remove the clothing either.”

I nod. “Is it because it was the last thing you wore before you died?”

He nods in return.

“I assume so.”

He moves closer to me ever so slightly. His gloved hands caress my h/c locks of hair and then he brushes his fingers across my cheeks and jawline.

“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.

Dante’s hooded eyes shine with an emotion I cannot read. But I feel like my life from this day forward will never be the same. Can the living and the dead co exist?

Dante Verona. Will we be able to share the same roof?

[rimatsu]

WIP Word Game

rules: you will be given a word. then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word

tagged by my idol @newtkelly for the word DAWN thank you muahhhh <3

i went with longer excerpts because i'm a yapper

-

D: “[D]on’t you dare,” Evan hisses, shoulders going tense with something akin to indignation, and Tommy recoils in a reflexive flinch at the sharp tone, unfamiliar and stinging like a zap of electricity.

There’s a muscle twitching in his jaw, Evan’s expression hardened into something firm and foreign and angry, an emotion that doesn’t quite suit his face, usually sweet and plump like a berry.

That familiar weight settles over Tommy’s chest again, adrenaline flooding his system, instinctive and self-preservative. His lizard brain demands that he turns around and gets the fuck out of here — a simple animal urge to run — but his feet stay rooted to the ground like a tree grown in well-drained soil, exposed to Evan’s ire with no protective gear to reduce the impact.

Suddenly the air is thinner, deoxygenated and harder to breathe, and Tommy feels mildly hypoxic the way he does in high altitude with his hand wrapped around a cyclic.

“Don’t insult me by implying I fell for some illusion like an idiot,” Evan continues, merciless. “I wanted the guy who fought a wildfire all night and still showed up to my sister’s wedding. I wanted the guy who took care of me when I busted my shoulder and the guy who humored me when I planned a funeral for a centuries old skeleton. Don’t you dare tell me that guy doesn’t exist.”

A: [A] breeze rustles the branches overhead. The sunlight that filters through the leaves casts a dappled pattern on Evan’s face. It makes his hair shimmer like threads of gold, painting him over in warm tones. It’s nearly enough to conceal the worrying pallor of his flesh. Under this lighting, his eyes are the blue of a frozen lake, fragile and cracked, unfocused and utterly terrified.

Another wet, gurgling sound escapes Evan’s mouth as he struggles to draw air into his lungs, lips parted wide open like a hooked fish.

Tommy’s hand is trembling where it’s clamped tight around his throat, his own vision getting narrow and kaleidoscopic, two decades of professional calm melting into blank panic. The bleeding is so profuse his palm can't stem the flow, fluid of life staining their skins and their clothes and the pavement bright red. Fear strikes Tommy’s heart like a spear. There’s no forgetting what EMT training has imparted upon him: a fatal hemorrhage is a matter of minutes following a ruptured carotid artery.

W: [W]ith a few long strides, he closes the distance between them to peer at Tommy through the fine brush of his pale lashes, lips pursed just so, sweet and enticing. That's his let's-butter-up-this-poor-sucker look, tried and true.

Tommy scowls at him in defiance. Not discouraged one bit, Evan shuffles even closer, winding both arms around his neck.

"Well? What do you think?" he prompts, eager for an answer.

"I think this is very sudden," Tommy says with a pointed look, one he hopes telegraphs ‘have you learned nothing from the past’, but he supposes what is bred in the bone will always come out in the flesh. "Most people ease into the topic over time."

"I’m not most people," Evan dismisses. "And I think I've been admirably patient."

N: “[N]o. He’s like herpes,” Tommy laments into his drink. “No matter what I do to get rid of him, he keeps showing up.”

Beside him, Benson snorts. “You got a real way with words, Kinard.”

“Yeah, I’m a poet alright. That’s how I get all the boys,” he says miserably.

-

no pressure tags: @trombonechurchill @sad-girl-hours23 @harmless-variety-of-garden-snake @beefcakekinard @bisexualbrainrots @rcmclachlan @setmeatopthepyre if you feel so inclined, my word is EDGE 🫶

[witchybitchycrybaby]

Fuck me yourself, you coward

Davos Blackwood x Aeron Bracken

Warnings: none I can think of

Summary: you know how one person says "fuck you" and the other responds with "fuck me yourself, you coward"? Yep, that's it.

Words: 1k

I feel so normal about them

✨✨✨

The sun was beginning to set over the meadow at the boundary of House Blackwood and House Bracken lands, its golden rays casting shadows over the trees.

Some time ago, Davos Blackwood and Aeron Bracken had agreed to a truce. They thought it a good idea, especially since they wanted to practice their swordsmanship together before they both were knighted. These moments of peace never lasted for long, however.

The boys stood facing each other, swords drawn, the practice long forgotten as it turned into one of their usual arguments.

"We're better hunters, Blackwood," Aeron snapped, his eyes blazing with fury. "If your traps are empty, it’s because you don’t know how to set them right."

"Better hunters, my ass," Davos retorted, gripping the hilt of his sword harder until his knuckles turned white. "I’ve seen your men stumble around the woods like blind fools. Probably can’t tell a deer from a tree."

They circled each other, their words as sharp as the blades they wielded. This wasn't the first time the sword practice had turned into a verbal sparring match, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Of this they were sure.

"At least we don't come here at night to move the boundary stones. You lot must really like our Blackwood land." Davos was fuming, his voice rising dangerously.

"Your Blackwood land?" Aeron repeated in disbelief. "The stones are exactly where they should be. Maybe on top of not knowing how to set traps, you don't know how to measure properly. How you manage to keep your land is a big mystery to me." Aaron rolled his eyes and Davos saw red.

"You arrogant piece of- fuck you, Bracken!" He yelled.

Aeron, not really thinking about what he was saying, blurted out, "Fuck me yourself, you coward!"

Both boys instantly froze, the deafening silence settling between them. They could only stare and blink at each other helplessly, wide-eyed and speechless. Aeron's face drained of color for a split second before a furious crimson blush crept up his neck, spreading like wildfire. He could feel the heat even on the tips of his ears. His anger quickly drained out of him, giving place to embarrassment.

Davos, on the other hand, looked like he had just gotten the biggest treat of his existence. His lips slowly stretched into a smirk, and a mischievous glint lit up his eyes. "What was that, Bracken?"

"I-I didn't mean it like that," Aeron stammered, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. He was almost sure that the other boy could hear it too. "It was just-"

He stopped abruptly when Davos started to step closer and closer. "Oh really? Because it sure as hell sounded like an invitation to me."

Aeron took a step back, and another, somewhere along the way he dropped his sword into the grass. His breath hitched in his throat as he put his hands in front of him in a miserable attempt to stop the other boy. "I was angry! I wasn't thinking!"

But Davos only continued to close the distance between them, acting as if he didn't hear Aeron's pleas.

"No need to explain. I'm happy to oblige."

Finally, Aeron's back hit the tree, and he was trapped, unable to put some distance between him and Davos. Something in the brunet's eyes told him, that even if he ran, he would be right behind him, not letting him off the hook.

"Stop it, Blackwood. This isn't funny."

But Davos reached out, placing his hand on the tree right beside Aeron's face, trapping him in a cage. He leaned in some more, so that their faces were mere inches apart, and said in low, teasing voice, "Who's laughing?"

Aeron's heart raced. He could feel the heat radiating from the other boy's body, and his warm breath fanning his face. Aaron squeezed the bark behind his back as hard as he could. If it weren't for the support of the tree, his knees would have given out long ago.

"D-Davos, I..."

"Yes, Aeron?" He whispered.

Aeron wanted to push Davos away. He wanted to grip his hands on his tunic and just shove him off. He would storm off, not even once glancing back at the Blackwood. But his body refused to leave; worse even, he found himself leaning in slightly, drawn to the dark-haired boy. There was this pull that no matter how much he tried, he couldn't explain.

The smirk on Davos' face turned into a satisfied smile. "That's what I thought," he said and, without a second to lose, he captured Aeron's soft lips with his own.

Aeron's eyes widened in pure shock. Instead of pulling away, he found himself responding to the kiss. He moved his lips tentatively against Davos', and the boy hummed in contentment.

The kiss was a collision of teeth more than a loving embrace. It was raw and unrefined, their tongues tangling in a wild dance. They both were sure that it would leave them bruised and wanting even more of the fiery burn.

When Davos finally pulled back, his lips red, Aeron was breathless and blushing even more furiously than earlier. "That... That wasn't what I meant," he whispered weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sure thing," Davos said with a wink. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, Bracken."

His hand moved to gently cup Aeron's cheek, his skin almost burning him. Aeron shuddered under his touch, accepting the fact that there was a part of him that wanted this and so much more. That despite the animosity between their families, he had been yearning for this one Blackwood.

"You know," started Davos, his eyes following his fingers caressing Aeron's cheek. "I have a feeling that this is just the beginning."

And Aeron could feel it too. His Blackwood would make sure of it.

[thanotaphobia]

found some old prime defenders writing............... a fic spanning the 10 month gap when dakota left...................... Anyways....... here's the big ghostknife blowout fight scene smile heart

(this is not edited, so very messy, ignore that)

☆

“God, will you just shut up?” Vyncent snaps at him, wheeling around on one heel and planting himself in the hallway. He rubs at his head, clearly exhausted. But William is too worried to let him go. “It’s always the fucking William show in here, good gods.”

“Excuse me?” William asks, reeling. “What? We’ve been dealing with your bullshit for weeks now.”

“My bullshit,” Vyncent scoffs. “Right. You’ve been dealing with my bullshit. It’s not like they’re in your head, Will.”

“Do you know how fucking hard it is to have to deal with this?” William asks. Vyncent crosses his arms and William matches him, scowling until his face hurts. “I’m constantly tiptoeing around you. These past two weeks have been awful.”

“Oh, right, they’ve been so awful for you,” Vyncent says sarcastically.

“I haven’t gotten to talk to you in ages, man,” William says.

“That’s not my fault!”

“So whose is it? Theirs? Mine?”

“I can’t control it!”

“Well we have to do something–”

“William, shut up!” Vyncent shouts. It’s the first time William’s ever heard such volume and force directed at him from Vyncent– sure, Alphonse has yelled at him before, even Strider and Min, but looking into his eyes William knows it’s all Vyncent right now. And he’s angry. “You need to let me deal with this! This isn’t something you can peel apart and investigate, okay? It’s my head. There’s no peeling you can do! Just shut up and leave me the fuck alone!”

That stings. Vyncent refusing him like this feels incomprehensible to William, like a possibility that shouldn’t even exist. They’re a team, they’re not strangers. Far from it at this point. And if something’s happening to Vyncent, William should know, shouldn’t he? But right now, all he sees in Vyncent is anger, pointed straight at him. Annoyance, too. A whole cocktail of disruptive, terrible emotions that make the hair on William’s arm stand on end. Not out of fear– out of a return surge of anger.

“I wish you had left instead of Dakota,” William hisses, feeling vicious and mean and wanting Vynce to hurt just as much as he’s hurting now. "At least he wouldn't be scared to talk about it."

“Oh, wow,” Vyncent snarls. They’re both up in each other’s faces right now, Vynce’s eyes glimmering with rage and hurt. Clearly, William’s words had cut just as deeply as he’d hoped. He’s vibrating, every inch of him trembling as he stares Vyncent down, chin tipped upwards. He can see Vyncent twitch slightly, and knows he’s arguing with someone in his head too, not just with William. Finally, Vyncent spits out, “Low blow, but we both know who’s really scared, here.”

“I’m not scared,” William lies.

“Sure,” Vynce says, laughing bitterly. “Sure, William.”

“I’m not,” William insists.

“Then why don’t you ever look me in the eyes anymore?” Vyncent asks. 

William opens his mouth, and finds he has no answer. He goes to look at Vyncent, but can’t– he can’t even force himself to do it.

“That’s what I thought,” Vyncent says. He steps back. The anger has drained out of his voice. Now, he just sounds tired. “Go to hell, William.”

“Why don’t you just go?” William asks, staring at Vyncent’s nose, his cheeks, his lips. “Why don’t you just leave, then. If you hate me.”

“I didn’t–” Vynce sighs. “Why don’t you leave? If you’re so miserable?”

Again, William doesn’t have an answer. He stands there for a moment, then closes his eyes and exhales. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m just– stuck. Hoping, I guess.” 

“Hoping for what?” Vyncent asks. William scoffs, glancing to the side and shaking his head.

“I don’t know,” he repeats. Then he looks up at Vyncent and finds the strength to look him head on, staring at him. “Why are you here?”

Vyncent looks at him, eyes scouring his face.

“Where else would I go?” he finally says. “Who else would want a weird guy like me?”

“I don’t think you’re weird,” William says, almost on instinct. “And I don’t– I don’t think you’re a coward either, Vynce. I’m sorry.”

“Why did you say that?” Vyncent asks. When Will looks up at him, his gaze is heavy, glancing aside. 

“I– Dunno,” William stutters out. “I guess it all just– hurts.”

Vyncent says nothing for a moment. His eyes narrow and glaze over just slightly, a look William has come to both recognize and despair over. But it only lingers for a second before Vyncent looks over at him and he’s caught, trapped.

“I think the Greats are dying,” Vyncent says slowly, tasting the words like he’s unsure of them. “Or something. I don’t know. But there’s something really wrong with us, Will.”