#but then i remind myself that it's okay to want that

[hope-for-the-planet]

Trans person in the US. Bust some of the doomerism for me? Tell me it's going to be okay?

Hi Anon

Usually, I have boundaries for myself about keeping this blog focused on environment-related issues, because there are limits to what I can speak knowledgeably about. But now doesn’t feel like the time for that.

Anon, I will tell you that I live in the US, I am queer, my spouse is trans, and we have two young children. I am sitting right there with you in the fear and grief and every day when I ask myself “is there still hope” I find reasons to say “yes”.

They want—all of us, not just queer folks—to feel overwhelmed and hopeless, because despair is a tool that keeps people from realizing their power and taking action.

They want us to feel so afraid that we lose our faith in other people and withdraw from our communities, because we are easier to conquer alone.

Do not give them what they want.

Hope is most necessary in the bad times. The ability to imagine a future that is better than things are now is exactly what gives us the power to begin making things better. Our community has been through terrible things before, and they did not lose hope or give up—otherwise we would not be where we are today.

When you start to feel like all the light is being blotted out, turn off the news, put away your phone, and go get in touch with something you love. Go outside and look at the sky, talk to a friend, listen to music, do some small thing to make something better even if it’s just cleaning your kitchen or picking up some litter around the block or returning an extra stranded cart in the grocery store parking lot. Remind your brain that you have agency to make positive change in the world through your actions.

I know it is really hard to pull out of the darkness sometimes. I know there will be days that hope seems like a foolish, naive thing, that despair and distrust seem like the only rational options. But hope is what keeps us alive. Hope is what allows us to save each other.

I wish I could give you a specific article or other source to reassure you that everything is going to be ok, but things are still too in flux day by day. I can tell you that people are already fighting back, in big and little ways, all over this country and the world. These orders and bills are being pushed by a loud but small minority—this is not how the majority of the country feels about trans rights.

Make a plan for staying safe. Reach out to your community. Find music, activities, podcasts, movies, whatever helps you feel uplifted and take mental breaks from dwelling on the news. If you can, find ways to get involved in making things better in whatever big or small way feels doable for you--it may help push back on the doomerism more than you think. And my inbox is open if you need to talk.

I wish I could invite you over for dinner. I wish I could look into your eyes and tell you that things may get hard for the next few years but that does not mean that your life can't still be full of joy and beauty and fulfillment in spite of that.

I’m right there with you. Let’s make it through this together <3

[black-crested-jaybird]

Yes, exactly!

We tell the kids: don't give away your name, age, or location online; and if you see/read/hear something that is confusing, scary, or upsetting, you can turn it off/close it, and go talk to a trusted adult about it.

I often worry that this generation, and especially the kids I know, are getting a double dose of "everything is awful" without the necessary and true evidence that actually most things are not awful; they are either pretty okay or really darn awesome actually! We are just wired to notice problems harder as a survival tactic! And sometimes this worry does make me nervous about the kind of things the kids are being exposed to/exposing themselves to.

I try to remind myself that more information is almost always better than less; and deciding when less information is better (for example when I decide that I know enough about a scary movie, or an upsetting news story, and that I don't want to engage with it in more detail) should be an informed and individual choice.

Are the kids going to find things that upset them as they develop their own sense of what is safe and healthy for them? Yes. We all do that. What's most important is that they have safe places and ways to learn, and safe people to go to when they need support with the process of learning.

[hamiltonfc]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆⭒˚｡⋆ MOTH TO A FLAME; JUDE BELLINGHAM (Chapter One)

➤ Summary: Kaia tells Jude about her new beau, throwing yet another spanner in the works of their already complicated relationship.

➤ Pairing: Jude Bellingham x F!OC

➤ Warnings: Swearing, Food mention.

➤ Discussion tag: #my works: moth to a flame (if you ever have any questions about the story, release schedule, etc. my inbox is always open.)

➤ Word Count: 2,254

TAGLIST | SERIES PLAYLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Kaia’s POV

The dial tone wasn’t unfamiliar when it came to my relationship with Jude. Over the past few years, phone calls between us have been the main way of communicating with my best friend. With him away in either Germany or Spain, or with myself at my home in Surrey, or away on a film set somewhere, phone calls or long text threads were the best I could get. 

But this call was different. Jude was finally back home in England. Not for long, just for a week or so during the winter break in the Spanish season. It just so happened that I had made the journey up from Surrey to be home with my family for Christmas, so it was only a matter of time before I picked up my phone, ready to call him. 

“Hello?” I heard at the other end of the line when Jude picked up. “Who’s this? The number kinda looked like this girl who last spoke to me about three weeks ago, but, you know, I could be mistaken.”

“Jude,” I say, deadpan. “I swear to God, the day you answer a phone call in a somewhat normal way, that’s when I’ll know the aliens have invaded.”

“I find offence in the fact that’s not the first time you’ve referred to aliens when talking about me,” his smirk was obvious through the way he spoke, it’s not like I’d never heard him speak that way before. “Anyway, stranger, what’s up? Miss my pretty face?”

“Always. But no, I need you to come over,” I stand up from where I was lying on my bed and walk over to my desk, taking a seat on the chair in front of it. 

“You need me to, huh? You should’ve said, Baby, I’d have been over already.” 

“Jesus,” I pinch the bridge of my nose, slumping further back into the chair in feigned annoyance. 

“My name’s Jude, actually, but close enough.”

“Please, Jude. I need to tell you something,” I twist my body, swinging the desk chair side to side a little, nerves creeping up to my heart, which is pounding in my chest. 

“God, I love it when you beg,” Jude whispers, voice a little more serious than it had been before. “Sorry, uhm, I’ll be over in ten. See you soon, Darling.”

****

*knock knock knock*

“FBI, open up!” Jude yells, in the worst American accent I might’ve ever heard (and I’ve been an actor my whole life so I’ve heard some terrible ones), from the other side of my door. He swings the door open, and his beaming face is the first thing I see when he’s revealed. 

I furrow my brows, staring at him with a disappointed look on my face for a few seconds. “Remind me, Jude, why the fuck are we friends?”

Jude places his hand against his chest, mouth open in fake, way too dramatic, offence. “Because we love each other, duh? Did you like it, though? It’s like that show you like, Criminal Brains or whatever it’s called.” He throws himself onto the bed beside me, landing on his stomach, before pushing up onto his forearms, leaning in towards me with only one thing on his mind.

“No,” I whisper, my hand gently placed on his collarbone as I push him back. “I need to talk to you first.”

“Oh,” Jude says with a nod. He grabs one of the many pillows on my bed and tucks it under his head, getting into a more comfortable position so he can look at me properly. Before Jude speaks, I see a look pass across his face, one that I can read instantly. “It’s serious enough that you don’t want to kiss me? Okay,” he drags out the vowels, chocolate brown eyes landing on mine, and at that moment I can do nothing but stare into them. 

My eyes flutter away from his, too scared to look at him during what I’m about to tell him, the weight of his gaze upon me enough to knock my mind off balance. 

“We can’t do this anymore,” I say softly, lips barely moving, but they fall loud and clear upon Jude’s ears. 

“We can’t do what anymore?” He knows. I knew he’d know what I would tell him when I refused to kiss him. But that’s what Jude is like, he is always going to give me space to tell him in my own time. He knows that’s how I want this to go. 

“Whatever we’ve been doing for the past however many years,” it’s then when I look at him, the image of his face etched into my brain of what I imagined he looked like in the moment, and I wasn’t wrong. 

Jude shakes his head, breaking eye contact, his jaw tight, before looking right back at me. “Why?”

“I have a boyfriend.” Silence washes over the room. Only sounds of our breathing can be heard and the ruffling of the bedding when I shift my body towards Jude. “We, uhm, we met on set a few months back and we hit it off, so… yeah. We’re now together.”

I give Jude a tight-lipped smile. He nods slowly in response, eyes wandering around my room. “I’m happy for you.” There it is. Four simple words, but they’re exactly what I expected him to say. He is so predictable. 

“So,” Jude slaps his thighs as he moves to sit up, almost falling backwards due to the lack of support from the mattress underneath him, but his strong core just about manages to complete the manoeuvre. “What’s your mom cooking?”

“A roast, but ab-”

“A roast? Oh, get in, I fucking love your mom’s roasts. Don’t tell my mom but, if I’m being completely honest, I prefer your mom’s Yorkshire puddings,” he smiles, but I can tell in the way he’s moving, his body language, the way his eyes can’t hold contact with mine for longer than three seconds, that he’s trying to distract himself from everything that’s going through his mind. “Mine does do better roast potatoes, though. They’re crispier.” 

“Jude,” I say sharply, placing a hand on his thigh in an attempt to bring him back to reality a little, as I stare at his heaving chest. “Slow the fuck down, yeah?” My stare is wide and long as my hand moves up and down his thigh, the only thing separating our skin are his grey sweatpants. “Take a breath, next time.”

He nods, his hand instinctually moving to grasp mine, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it go, knowing that if he held on any longer he wouldn’t want to let go at all. “Quick question,” his eyes meet mine. “Why are we having a roast when you’re coming round mine for Christmas dinner in three days?”

I shrug. “Think of it as a pre-roast. You know how my mum gets when she’s not hosting, she can’t sit still to save her life, the roast dinner is just a product of that.”

“Cool,” Jude nods. “Two roast dinners in a week is a lot better than all the nutritional shit I have to eat throughout the season, anyway.”

I let out a quiet laugh, pulling my hand out from underneath his. “Anyway,” I take a deep breath. “As I was trying to say, about the dinner, Noah, my boyfriend, is coming over to eat with us.”

“Okay,” Jude’s voice fades out as he says, a confused look on his face.

“I mean,” I tell him. “It’s up to you, you can stay and meet him if you want, I don’t mind. Like I understand if you don’t want to, but, like I said, it’s completely up to you.”

Jude scoffs. “And like I said, I want that roast dinner. Of course, I’m staying.”

“Right then, I get up from my bed, stretching and letting out a yawn, catching Jude looking at the sliver of my belly that appears when I raise my hands over my head. “We best get downstairs and set the table, because we both know that sister of mine won’t have done it.” 

****

“You do know you have legs, right?” I say to my fifteen-year-old sister, Olivia, as soon as I enter the dining room only to find that the table hadn’t already been set like I had previously hoped. 

My sister only lets out a grunt and shrugs at my words. 

“You alright, Liv?” Jude grabs the coasters, placing one in front of each chair, making sure to count one extra than usual for Noah.

Olivia gives Jude the same grunt as the one that she gave me. 

“Remember when we were like that?” I nudge Jude with my elbow, setting up everyone’s cutlery. 

“What, when we hated everyone and everything that wasn’t on our phones? Yeah, that was rough,” a reminiscent look passes across Jude’s face before I slap him in the tummy with the placemats. 

“Come on, slacker, you going to put them down before I whack you round the head with them, or what?” I giggle, making my way into the kitchen to see if my mum needs any help. 

I see Jude smile at me over my shoulder as he watches me walk away. “You alright, Mum? Need help with anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thanks, Love. You go and sit down, I’ll bring the food through in a bit,” she flashes a smile at me before opening the oven up, and checking on the beef and potatoes. 

I turn on my heel, walking back into the dining room when my little brother appears at the doorway. “Judey!” he yells as soon as he spots my best friend. 

My youngest sibling, Leo, runs at Jude, causing him to stop everything he’s doing before he leans down to pick up the little boy. 

“Hello, little man, how are you doing?” Jude squeezes him as tight as he can. In the time that Jude and Leo had known each other, which was the entirety of Leo’s seven years on the planet, they had built up an amazing relationship. Leo considered Jude to be one of his best friends and even went as far as saying that Jude loved him more than me. If he only knew. 

“I’m not too good,” I watch as Leo pouts up at Jude after he’s placed him back on the ground. 

“Why not, Kid?” Jude’s brows furrow, continuing his work setting the table while also giving the small boy as much attention as he can. 

“I’ve been doing my homework all day because Mummy said I had to and if I didn’t I wouldn’t be able to play Roblox later.” 

“Well, we can’t be having that, can we?” Jude smiles when Leo shakes his head and lets out a heavy sigh. “So, did you get it all done?”

“I did,” Leo nods, a proud smile on his face. 

“Good kid,” Jude ruffles his hair before he spots me, leaning against the doorframe, watching their interaction. 

“Go and take a seat, Leo,” soft thuds against the floor can be heard as he runs to his chair next to his older sister. “Mum says dinner will be ready soon.”

I sit down in my usual spot, with Jude going to take the seat right next to me before changing his mind and walking around the table to sit in the seat directly across from me instead. 

Jude and I engage in barely thirty seconds of conversation before it’s broken up by the sound of the doorbell ringing. I feel my expression change immediately, to one full of nerves. Jude notices that immediately, watching me in anticipation as I get up from my seat. 

“That’ll be him,” I say, leaving no room for Jude to reply because I’m out of the room in seconds, making my way towards the door. 

“Hey, Babe,” Noah says in his thick American accent as soon as I open the door. 

I move to the side, signalling for him to come in. “Hi,” I say, my words a lot more muted than the bubbly voice that he’s used to. 

Noah shrugs his coat off as he steps inside and I grab it from him, turning to hang it on one of the hooks beside the door. He leans down, pressing a quick kiss on my lips. “You okay?” His brows furrow together as he analyses my face. 

“Yeah,” I nod, smiling up at him. “There’s someone here I’d like you to meet,” I tell him, leading him into the dining room after about a minute of being gone. 

As soon as Noah and I enter the room, I notice Jude look Noah up and down the moment his eyes land on him. He takes in his outfit, his tanned skin and his blonde hair. I can practically see the moment where he acknowledges that he’s not my type, no that that matters, he doesn’t know my type to be anything other than himself. 

“Noah,” I turn to him, a slight smile on my face. “You’ve already met my brother and sister,” I can feel Jude watching me as I point at the kids beside him. I can also see his face change slightly, most likely to show his disdain at the fact that I let Noah into my house before ever telling him about our relationship. “And this,” My gaze falls upon Jude, prompting Noah to look at him for the first time this evening. “Is Jude. My best friend.”

Taglist: @eunoiasgoal @4evermyownmuse

If you would like to support my work make sure to like and reblog this post, and if you're able, consider buying me a pastry! (I also take writing commissions if anyone would like one).

[seasaltandwisdom]

tips for tired hellenic polytheists

new or old

when first researching where to start, it’s very overwhelming with everything you need to do. autism and chronic illness were and still are a major hindrance to everything i do, worship included, not to mention i am still worshipping in secrecy. i was put off from worshipping for a year or so because of this. it doesn’t have to be so daunting, the gods aren’t here to judge how efficient you are in your worship.

starting with altars, you don’t need one, especially not a big elaborate one. they’re gorgeous and one day i aspire to have one, but that’s not ideal or even possible at the moment. if you plan on giving libations you can have a small cup or glass to hold the offering and sit it next to you or in any empty space until you’re ready to discard. same with food items, a small platter works. it doesn’t have to be a dedicated space, they understand your circumstances.

another thing i struggled with was knowing which god or gods to worship. you don’t have to wait for a god to call to you. pray to who you want and who makes you feel comfort and happiness to think about. the gods aren’t going to turn you away. you can start with more than one too. there’s no ‘beginner’ gods, just who you want to start with!

giving offerings doesn’t have to be so complex, especially if you’re worshipping in secret. a big one i do is offer a portion of my food to the gods while i wait for it to cool or find a video to watch. i tell them i’ll eat after and the first bites goes to them. they know if you have limitations, they know i can’t give them food and let it sit and afford to not eat it myself and that’s okay. i also buy a lot of trinkets from various places, if it reminds me of the gods they get to keep it and when i look at it i’ll whisper a small hello.

devotional acts are easiest for me, it’s things i’m already doing or should be doing. taking my meditation/listening to music in honor of apollo. cooking/spending time with family in honor of hestia. watching ocean related videos for poseidon. if it pertains to the gods, devote the act to them and it keeps me on top of things i need to do if i know i devoted it to the gods.

this may be my most controversial section, i don’t do khernips! if you do, more power to you of course. i just don’t have the means, and don’t see much reason for that to stop me from worshipping. i will wash my hands with soap and water before giving an offering, but for regular prayer of just saying hi or talking about my day with the gods, which i usually do in bed or while out and about, i don’t worry about it. they know im human, they aren’t going to shut me down or out for being such. this stopped me for awhile, i couldn’t make khernips so of course i couldn’t worship but truthfully the gods are understanding. even somedays when im too tired, depressed or sick to do anything, i used to feel bad for not being my cleanest while talking to the gods but if i can’t pray when im at such a low point, when can i?

the gods aren’t going to be disrespected or angry at you for praying or offering whilst you’re on your period. yes, i’ve seen that debated. just be clean on human standards, when you can, and they will understand. they’re old and wise, they’ve seen it all.

i’m just rambling at this point so i’ll wrap up soon! coming from christianity, it’s hard to not fear the gods, i get it and most others do too. religious trauma is hard to overstep, if it’s something you struggle with the gods won’t mind if you have to do a few things differently. good luck on your journey, whether new or just continuing. i hope my yapping helped with anything. your faith is personal to you, don’t let others push you away from it. be kind to each other and yourself.

as always, feel free to dm or send an ask if you feel inclined to! my word is just that, don’t take what i say as law and if you do things differently, that’s okay. i’d love to hear about that too!

[yelenasdiary]

I don’t need to post this, I know, but here it is anyways. TW: mental health.

I’m not okay & I honestly haven’t been for a while. I like to think I’m pretty good at keeping things together and to myself but over the last few weeks, months even, it’s just been hard. I’ve gone years without certain thoughts until recently & idk what to feel anymore?

Of course social media is never going to help when you’re already feel low but with the recent stuff that’s happened, I can’t help but feel that somehow it’s pushed people away from me & I guess I understand, it just sucks…& on top of that, I know my quality in my writing isn’t great. So when an anon told me if my work didn’t suck ass maybe people would interact more it actually fucking hurt okay. Yes, I know, don’t let them have the power but writing has become a comfort thing for me so yeah, it hurt.

Instead of just telling me how shit my work has been recently, why can’t you just suggest ways I can make it better? I don’t understand why it’s so easy for people to be cruel and think it’s okay. I already have enough going on in my personal life but now I just genuinely feel I am continuously doubting myself when I post a new fic.

But for now, I’m okay & I’m trying. I have Valentine’s Day Fics coming & I’m excited to share them with you all. I guess I just wanted to post this as a reminder to just be kind to people & not to sound cliche but you really don’t know what others are going through x

[millionthcephalophore]

Okay. A few things here. This is still bad! Buuuuut I would encourage people to read some full articles and get some context on Torres’ work to see exactly HOW these missteps could be justified and why they may have happened.

Portrait of Ross in LA is by farrrr Torres’ most famous candy portrait but it is not the only one! Plenty of them are frequently displayed in a line like the Smithsonian’s installation, is that less effective? Maybe. But it’s not out of line with his work. Nor is the plaques listing of an “ideal weight” or the exhibition’s listed concerns.

Gonzalez-Torres made a lot of work about AIDS and he made it exceptionally well. However, it was not his only artistic concern. This exhibition focuses on his innovations in portraiture and his lateral thinking about the genre. It would be absolutely disingenuous and sinister for the exhibit not to mention AIDS, but if I’m going to be a little honest I don’t have a problem with an exhibition placing its focus elsewhere. He was a brilliant artist and deserves recognition for all of his ideas, not just those related to his suffering.

The work is displayed and plaqued in a way that’s consistent with his other work and doesn’t go against the works’ certificate (basically it’s artist-stipulated display instructions). So from a curatorial standpoint it IS the same piece.

According to the curators a separate piece of wall text near the piece DOES further contextualize it reading, in part, “Gonzalez-Torres cared for his partner Ross Laycock, named in the candy work’s title, who died from HIV/AIDS in 1991. So there are some mentions of AIDS throughout the exhibit. I still think that this is not enough contextualization, but again, I see how it happened.

The display’s main problem is that its supremely fucking out of touch.

Portrait of Ross in LA means something to people, its more than just a portrait its a symbol, its a memorial, its grown past the artist and become something for an entire community that has frequently been robbed of the ability to openly mourn. I’ve gotten the privilege of seeing it in person a few times and it commands a reverence like nothing else I’ve ever seen. I keep the wrappers from my visit just to remind myself of that experience of twisting brilliant inadequate grief that it evoked in me. I keep the wrappers because it felt morally wrong to throw them away.

You have to treat Portrait of Ross in LA with fucking respect.

The conditions for respect have already been outlined, like several articles point out, we’ve already been here. The Art Institute did basically the same thing a few years ago and it was made clear by public outcry that caring for this piece and its significance means including a proper wall label. Its being respected by museum goers not already familiar with the piece is contingent on that wall label, people are less likely to read the other wall text.

SO. All in all I think that the curatorial decisions made here were pretty standard and I’d need to actually see the exhibit to make a ruling on their potential erasure of AIDS and Gonzalez-Torres’ sexuality within the exhibit as a whole. BUT the display also shows an ignorance of the work’s significance and a disregard for prior discourse/ meaning making surrounding it. It feels a bit like a slap in the face.

Anyways here’s another article with some more comments made by the curators if anyone wants more context:

https://www.artnews.com/art-news/news/felix-gonzalez-torres-national-portrait-gallery-untitled-portrait-of-ross-in-la-controversy-1234731113/

the david zwirner gallery and the felix gonzalez torres foundation in the smithsonian removed the descriptive plaque for portrait of ross in la by felix gonzalez-torres. the old plaque explained portrait for ross' origins as the artist's partner's aids related death, and replaced it with a plaque with absolutely no information about the piece itself, who ross was, or who gonzalez-torres was either. portrait of ross was also reeranged to lay on the floor long ways instead of in a pile as it typically is situated, and the plaque outside the exhibition FOR GONZALEZ-TORRES omits his sexuality, as well as his aids related death. i'm in utter disbelief

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 8

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21 @dylsw @ria-s-writes @sleepymothafterhours  @sukunasstomachtongue @cosmic-lovr @imm0rtalbutterfly @kyo-kyo1

if you wanna be added to the tag list comment

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CHPATER 9 - AFTERSHOCKS

Yn pov

The cold night air felt like a slap to my face as I left Kenjaku’s place, my footsteps echoing hollowly down the quiet street. I tried to keep my mind blank, to drown out the lingering, haunting image of Sukuna—his dark, haunted eyes and the barely lit cigarette slipping from his fingers as he whispered for me to leave.

My chest felt tight, my heart pounding as I tried to make sense of the broken pieces he’d left scattered inside me. Every time I thought he’d reached his lowest point, he seemed to spiral deeper, as if he was determined to burn everything down to ashes.

I couldn’t ignore that I still cared. Seeing him like that—seeing him looking at me with that raw, bitter pain—I wanted to help him, to reach out, but I knew better now. I had spent months clinging to hope that maybe, just maybe, he would change for us, for himself, for the family that he still had.

But tonight, his words left no doubt. He wasn’t ready, not for me, not for anyone. And I had to face the reality that he might never be.

A few blocks down, I caught my reflection in the darkened glass of a closed café. I looked like someone I barely recognized—worn, tired, weighed down by a love that kept clawing back even when I tried to sever it.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from Utahime: “Hey, just checking in. Are you okay?”

The concern in her message softened the ache, even if just a little. I didn’t have to handle this alone; I didn’t have to keep it all bottled up inside. I knew she’d come over, let me talk or sit in silence—whatever I needed. And right now, maybe I needed someone to remind me I still mattered, even if Sukuna had all but forgotten that.

I texted her back, “Not really, but I’m heading home. Could use some company if you’re free.”

Within seconds, she responded, “On my way.”

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and took a deep breath, looking up at the night sky. I whispered, maybe to the stars or just to myself, “I’ll survive this. I’ll get over him.”

But as much as I wanted to believe it, the ache in my chest told me it wasn’t going to be that easy.

I knocked lightly on Utahime’s door, the sound muffled by the weight of my thoughts. As the door swung open, I was greeted by her warm smile, though I could see the concern in her eyes. Behind her, Shoko sat on the couch, a soft glass of wine in her hand, and Geto was casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed. My heart did a little flip in my chest as I processed the sight of them together—together, like a real couple.

I hadn't been prepared for that.

Shoko saw my hesitation, and before I could ask, she smiled and said, “Yeah, we’re dating. Long story.”

I nodded quietly, swallowing back the knot in my throat. I wasn't sure why the news hit me so hard, maybe because it was a reminder that things were changing—life was moving on for everyone, even if I felt stuck in place, trying to untangle the mess that was Sukuna.

Utahime saw my expression shift and gently ushered me inside. “Come on, sit. You look like you need to get out of your head for a while.”

I sank into the couch, a little too aware of the awkward silence hanging between us. Geto noticed and softened his posture, giving me a small, understanding nod.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low but filled with concern.

I forced a smile, but it felt brittle, like it might shatter at any moment. “Yeah, just been a long couple of days.”

I glanced at Shoko, who didn’t speak immediately but gave me that steady, unspoken support only she could. She, too, knew the weight of what I’d been going through. We’d all lived it in some way or another, the pain of love and loss.

Utahime sat beside me and handed me a glass of water. “You know you can talk about whatever’s going on, right? You’re not alone.”

But the weight of the night—the weight of Sukuna’s words—was still too much to carry. I didn’t want to bring up my problems, especially not with how well everything seemed to be falling into place for them. I didn’t want to ruin the rare moment of peace I had here with my friends by pouring out the chaos of my emotions. Not when I knew they already had enough of their own burdens.

“I just...” I trailed off, unsure of how to say what I was feeling. “It’s a lot to process. And I’m not sure where to go from here, you know?”

Shoko’s gaze softened as she placed her drink down, giving me her full attention. “You don’t have to have it figured out right now,” she said gently. “You just have to take it one step at a time.”

I let out a shaky breath, nodding as the tension in my chest eased a fraction. They were here. I wasn’t alone.

But even with their support, my mind kept drifting back to Sukuna, to his cold dismissal, to the rawness of his words.

“You made the right choice… don’t let guilt eat at you.”

I closed my eyes briefly, trying to push the thought away. That guilt... it would always be there, wouldn’t it? No matter how many times I told myself to let go.

But for tonight, at least, I could let the presence of my friends drown out the echoes of his voice, if only for a little while.

I watched as Geto leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Shoko’s lips, his actions almost casual but carrying the weight of a goodbye. Shoko held his arm, reluctant to let go, her fingers tightening around him, before she looked up at him, her expression a mixture of concern and confusion.

“Why?” she asked softly, her voice laced with worry.

Geto’s eyes briefly flicked over to me, and my stomach churned at the look he gave. It wasn’t pity, but it felt like something else—something more complicated. He gave her a small, almost apologetic smile, brushing a hand over her arm. “I’ll text you, Sho. Gotta check up on some people, you know how it is.”

Shoko didn’t respond immediately, but I could see the hesitation in her eyes. She wanted to argue, to keep him here, but she didn’t. Instead, she let out a small sigh and nodded, her fingers brushing the fabric of his sleeve one last time before he stood up and turned toward the door.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” she said to him, her voice small, almost fragile.

“I will,” Geto answered, offering her one last soft smile before leaving the room. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving an unsettling silence in his wake.

I didn’t know what to make of it. Their relationship wasn’t something I was used to yet—seeing them together, watching the small acts of affection that seemed so natural, yet felt so foreign to me.

Shoko exhaled slowly, her gaze turning to the space Geto had just vacated. It was clear she was processing something, her usual calm mask slipping just slightly. After a moment, she looked back at me, her eyes sharp with a quiet intensity.

“You doing alright?” she asked, her voice softer nowr as if the moment had made her more aware of the space between us.

I nodded, forcing a smile even though the ache in my chest was still there, gnawing at me, a reminder of everything I wasn’t ready to face. “Yeah. Just... a lot.”

Shoko studied me for a moment before leaning back against the couch, folding her arms across her chest. “You don’t have to talk about it now. But you know, you’re not alone in this, right?”

I met her eyes, and for a moment, I let myself believe her. Maybe this pain wasn’t mine to carry alone.

Maybe, for tonight, I didn’t have to keep pretending that I had it all figured out.

“Thanks,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, feeling the weight in my chest ease just a little as I let myself believe in her words.

I took a deep breath, the tension in my shoulders still heavy as I recounted everything to Shoko and Utahime. The weight of the situation felt heavier now that I was speaking it out loud, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. They needed to know—especially after everything I’d just witnessed.

“Yuuji came by earlier today,” I started, my voice quieter than I intended, but steady enough to keep going. "He showed up at my apartment, completely out of the blue, looking... well, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. I could tell something was wrong the minute he walked in."

Shoko raised an eyebrow, shifting slightly in her seat, her expression curious but concerned. Utahime looked at me, her usual stern demeanor softened for a moment as she awaited the rest.

“What happened?” Shoko asked, her voice gentle but insistent.

I hesitated for a moment, my mind replaying the earlier events like a loop. "He was asking me if I’d seen Sukuna. He told me that Sukuna had been holed up in his apartment for days and that he was... acting strange, even for him. Yuuji didn’t want to deal with it alone, so he came to me. I knew something had to be off. Sukuna hasn’t been answering calls or texts, and when Yuuji said he couldn’t even get in contact with him, I just had this gut feeling. I knew exactly where he was."

I paused, swallowing the lump that formed in my throat. "Yuuji said Sukuna’s been shutting everyone out, and I don’t think anyone really knows the extent of it. I don’t know how Yuuji does it, but I could see the worry on his face. He’s scared, Shoko."

Utahime’s eyes narrowed slightly as she processed my words. "And then what? What did you do?"

“I told Yuuji to go back home. I gave him my spare key to my place, just in case Sukuna showed up again, but... something didn’t feel right. I didn’t want Yuuji to be on his own with this, but I couldn’t exactly go to Sukuna’s apartment. I didn’t know how to handle that. So, I called Kenjaku, asked if he knew where Sukuna was. He was quiet at first, but then he told me Sukuna was with him—said he wasn’t doing well.” I looked down at my hands, my fingers fidgeting nervously. “He said... Sukuna was completely off the rails, Yuuji’s not the only one trying to keep him together. He’s falling apart, guys. I’m not sure he even wants help anymore.”

Shoko’s gaze softened, a quiet understanding passing between us. Utahime leaned forward, her arms crossed as she listened closely. “He’s drowning, isn’t he?”

I nodded. "Yeah. I think he’s been drowning for a long time. I don’t think anyone’s been able to reach him, not really. And after everything with Jin... I don’t know if he’s even capable of letting anyone in anymore. It’s like he’s pushing everyone away, even the people who want to help."

Utahime let out a slow exhale, her brow furrowing as she processed the situation. "And you? How do you feel about all of this?"

The question hit me harder than I expected, the weight of it pressing against my chest. I paused, uncertain of how to answer. "I don’t know. I love him, I do. But I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep waiting for him to pull himself out of this mess he’s made. He has to want it, right? He has to fight for it."

I swallowed hard, blinking back the burning in my eyes. "But I can’t help him if he won’t let me. I don’t even know where to start anymore."

Shoko shifted in her seat, a small, knowing smile pulling at her lips. "Sometimes the hardest thing is realizing that you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. But that doesn’t mean you don’t care. It just means you have to put yourself first now. He’s got to figure this out on his own, Y/N."

Utahime nodded, her voice quieter now but no less firm. "And you’re not the one who has to carry the weight of his choices anymore. You’ve already done enough."

I let her words sink in, the truth of them slowly loosening the grip of guilt that had been squeezing my chest. Maybe they were right. Maybe Sukuna needed to want help before anyone could reach him. But part of me couldn’t shake the thought—was I giving up too soon? Could I have done more?

"I just want him to be okay," I murmured, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them. "I just want him to find a way out of all this... for himself."

Shoko leaned forward, resting a hand gently on mine. “I know you do. But sometimes, the best way to help someone is by letting them figure things out on their own. He has to want to get better for himself, not for you, not for anyone else."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words settle into my bones. I wasn’t sure what the future held for me and Sukuna, but for now, I had to accept that I couldn’t save him. Not unless he was ready to save himself.

The conversation lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken words. Shoko’s hand remained on mine, grounding me as I processed everything. Utahime leaned back in her seat, her arms still crossed as she studied me.

“You did what you could,” Utahime said firmly. “Now it’s up to him. But don’t think for a second that it’s your responsibility to fix him, Y/N. You’ve been through enough.”

I nodded, though the ache in my chest didn’t lessen. “I know. It’s just… it’s hard to see him like that. To see someone you care about destroy themselves.”

Shoko gave me a small, reassuring smile. “It always is. But you have to remind yourself that you can’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm. You’re allowed to move on, Y/N. You’re allowed to heal.”

I let out a shaky breath, the weight of their words both comforting and suffocating. I wanted to believe them, to let go of the guilt and pain that had been eating away at me since I walked out of Sukuna’s apartment. But it wasn’t that simple. It never was.

Geto’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You know,” he started, his tone careful, “Sukuna’s not someone who’s easy to reach, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t leave a mark on him. Sometimes people need to hit rock bottom before they realize they need to climb back up. You might have been the first step for him, even if it doesn’t feel like it now.”

I glanced at him, surprised by the insight in his words. Geto had always been quiet, observing from the sidelines, but when he spoke, his words carried weight.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe you’re right, but it still feels like I failed him. Like I should’ve done more.”

“You didn’t fail him,” Shoko said firmly. “You loved him. That’s not failure. But love isn’t always enough to fix someone. And that’s not on you.”

Her words stung, but they were true. I nodded again, more to myself this time, and took a deep breath. “I just hope he finds his way out of this. For Yuuji, for Choso... for himself.”

Geto stood then, brushing his hands against his jeans. “You’ve done more for him than most people would’ve, Y/N. Now it’s his turn to step up. You’ve got your own life to live, and you deserve to live it without carrying the weight of his choices.”

He glanced at Shoko, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

Shoko frowned but nodded, clearly still unhappy about him leaving. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “I’ll try my best.”

I watched him leave, the door clicking shut behind him, and felt a pang of envy at the ease between them. The love and understanding they shared were palpable, and it made the emptiness Sukuna left behind feel all the more stark.

Shoko turned back to me, her gaze soft but firm. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. And you don’t have to carry this alone.”

Utahime nodded in agreement. “We’re here for you. Whatever you need.”

I offered them a small, grateful smile, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, I tried to focus on the present, but Sukuna’s broken expression lingered in the back of my mind. I didn’t know what the future held for him—or for me—but for now, I had to let go. For my own sake. For my own healing.

—Sukuna’s POV—

I stared at the cigarette between my fingers, watching the ash build and fall like tiny, useless fragments of my life. The apartment was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the heater struggling against the cold. Uraume was gone—finally giving up after one too many of my dismissive grunts. And Y/N… she was gone too.

That thought gnawed at me.

I flicked the cigarette into the ashtray and leaned back, letting the smoke curl lazily around me. My body ached in ways I couldn’t explain. Not just the aftermath of the hospital or the lingering burn of Kenjaku’s words. It was deeper than that, heavier. A dull, throbbing weight that seemed permanently lodged in my chest.

Her voice echoed in my head. The way she said my name—firm, concerned, and just a little broken. Like she still cared, even when I begged her to leave. Maybe especially because I begged her to leave.

I hated it. Hated how much I wanted her to stay. Hated how much I needed her and hated myself for needing her. She didn’t deserve this mess. Didn’t deserve me. I’d proven that a hundred times over.

The door creaked open, and I flinched, expecting Kenjaku to barge back in with another lecture. But it was Uraume, holding two bags of groceries. She glanced at me, rolled her eyes, and started unpacking like I wasn’t there.

“What now?” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face.

“Relax, I’m not here to lecture you,” Uraume said, their tone clipped. “I just thought you might want to eat something that isn’t stale chips or whatever’s left in that takeout box.”

I didn’t respond, turning my head to look at the ceiling instead. The silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable. I could feel Uraume’s eyes on me, but I refused to meet their gaze.

Finally, they sighed, setting down a container of food on the coffee table. “Look, I don’t know what happened with Y/N, but if she came all the way here for you, maybe think about why that is.”

I barked out a laugh, bitter and sharp. “She came because she felt guilty. That’s it. She thinks she owes me something. Like she can fix me.”

“And what if she does care?” Uraume shot back, crossing their arms. “What if she actually gives a damn about what happens to you? Ever think about that?”

I sat up abruptly, the movement making my head spin. “It doesn’t matter, Uraume. Caring doesn’t change anything. Caring doesn’t bring Jin back. It doesn’t undo the shit I’ve done. And it sure as hell doesn’t make me any less of a screw-up.”

They didn’t say anything, just stood there with that same unreadable expression they always had. After a moment, they shrugged and turned away, heading to the kitchen. “Whatever you say, Sukuna. But maybe you should figure out what you actually want before you push everyone away for good.”

I dropped back onto the couch, my head pounding. What I wanted? That was easy.

I wanted Jin back. I wanted Grandpa back. I wanted my old life—the one where everything wasn’t broken and I wasn’t dragging the people I cared about down with me. But that life was gone, and wanting it back was as useless as the cigarette butts piling up in the ashtray.

Still, Uraume’s words stuck. Y/N’s face flashed in my mind—those tired eyes, the way her lips trembled when she spoke my name. The way she didn’t flinch, didn’t run when I lashed out.

What the hell did she see in me? Why did she even bother?

I reached for my phone on the table, hesitating for a moment before unlocking it. The screen lit up, the messages from Kenjaku and Toji staring back at me like a slap in the face. No missed calls. No texts from her.

Of course not. Why would there be?

I tossed the phone aside and leaned forward, burying my face in my hands. My mind replayed the conversation from earlier, every word, every look. The regret in her voice when she said my name. The way she fought back tears, trying to stay strong even when I broke her down.

I didn’t deserve her. I knew that. But damn it, I wanted her. I wanted her to pull me out of this pit, even if it was selfish. Even if I dragged her down with me.

But she was right to leave. She was right to walk away.

Because no matter how much I wanted to believe I could change, deep down, I wasn’t sure I even knew how.

I hear the door knock and Toji strolls in. im pissed off thinking how the fuck does he know where I am. He stared at me, then talked to Kenjaku. I saw them walking in my direction. Ken said again "I think you should go to rehab" I closed my eyes trying to drown him out again....I told him. I already told you no, now just stop

Toji leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his usual cocky smirk nowhere in sight. That alone told me he wasn’t here to bullshit around. I glared at him, the weight of their stares burning a hole through me.

Kenjaku crouched in front of me, his face level with mine. "Sukuna," he said calmly, almost like he was trying not to lose his temper. "This isn’t about what you want anymore. This is about what you need."

I scoffed, looking away. "What I need is for you all to get the fuck out of my face. You think rehab’s going to fix anything? You think a few weeks locked away is gonna magically make me less of a fuck-up?"

Toji pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "Maybe not," he said, his voice low but firm. "But sitting here wallowing in your own self-pity sure as hell isn’t doing you any favors either."

I felt my jaw tighten, my fists clenching at my sides. "You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about."

"Oh, don’t I?" Toji shot back, his voice rising. "You think you’re the only one who’s been through shit, Sukuna? The only one who’s lost people? Guess what, man, the world doesn’t stop spinning just because you’re hurting."

"Toji," Kenjaku said sharply, holding up a hand.

"No, let me finish," Toji snapped, his eyes locked on mine. "You wanna drown yourself in booze and pills? Fine. But don’t pretend you’re the only one who’s suffering. Yuuji’s a kid, for fuck’s sake, and he’s holding it together better than you are. What do you think he’s gonna do if you don’t make it out of this? You think he’ll just move on?"

The mention of Yuuji hit me like a punch to the gut, but I didn’t let it show. I wouldn’t give Toji the satisfaction.

Kenjaku leaned closer, his voice softer now but no less insistent. "Sukuna, you’ve got people who care about you. People who want to see you get better. But we can’t do it for you. You have to make the choice."

I closed my eyes, the weight of their words pressing down on me like a goddamn boulder. I didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to think about Yuuji, or Choso, or Y/N. It was easier to stay numb, to shut it all out.

"I already told you no," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Now just stop."

There was a heavy silence, the kind that made the air feel thick and suffocating. Then, Toji let out a long, exasperated sigh.

"You’re a real piece of work, you know that?" he said, shaking his head. "Fine. Stay here. Rot in your own misery if that’s what you want. But don’t expect anyone to keep picking up the pieces when you finally break for good."

He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. Kenjaku stayed for a moment longer, his eyes searching mine like he was looking for some shred of hope, some sign that I wasn’t completely lost.

"I’ll give you some time," he said quietly. "But not forever, Sukuna. Think about what you’re throwing away."

And then he was gone too, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence of my own damn thoughts

Toji paused on his way out, turning back to face me. His expression shifted, an edge of disgust crossing his features. “Didn’t you take Yuuji to live with you and Megumi?” I snapped, trying to push him away with my words. “He’s fine. And Choso’s a grown-ass man. Why don’t you save the lecture for someone who gives a damn?”

Toji stared at me for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “You really think that’s all there is to it?” he said slowly, his voice dangerously calm. “What about Y/N?”

I tensed, glaring at him. “What about her?”

He smirked, but there was no humor in it. “Didn’t you fuck her? What if she’s pregnant?”

The words hit me like a truck, but I shoved the thought aside. 

She’s not pregnant. She can’t be. And even if she was, what does it matter? It’s not my problem.

“Who cares if she is?” I shot back, my voice venomous. “I don’t. She means nothing to me. I don’t know why you guys keep acting like she was ever anything more than a good time.”

Toji’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he stared me down. “You’re a goddamn liar,” he said finally, his voice cold and cutting.

I didn’t say anything, just clenched my fists tighter, nails digging into my palms. 

What the hell did he know? What the hell did any of them know?

Toji shook his head, the disappointment in his eyes cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. “You wanna pretend like she didn’t mean something to you, fine. But don’t expect anyone else to buy into your bullshit. Especially not yourself.”

And with that, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

I slumped back onto the couch, my head spinning. 

Who the fuck does he think he is, coming in here and saying that shit to me? Like he knows what I’m dealing with. Like he knows what I feel.

But the worst part? He wasn’t wrong.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the memories of Y/N. Her smile, her laugh, the way she used to look at me like I was worth something. Like I wasn’t the broken mess I am.

Stop it. She’s gone. She left. And good for her. She doesn’t need this shit.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the gnawing ache in my chest. The one that whispered she meant more than I wanted to admit. That she still did.

I wanted more drugs, maybe sleep. I wasn’t even sure anymore. My head was a mess, a tangled web of thoughts I couldn’t unravel.

Y/N… pregnant? No. Hell no. I shook the thought out of my head, like swatting away a fly. There’s no way. And even if she was, it doesn’t matter.

I pushed myself off the couch, the weight of my own body feeling heavier than it should. My legs felt like jelly, the room spinning slightly as I stood up. I barely took a step before my knees buckled, and I hit the floor hard.

“Fuck,” I hissed, clutching my head as a sharp pain shot through it. My palms pressed against the cold floor as I tried to steady my breathing.

I need to chill. I just need to breathe.

But it wasn’t just the withdrawal or the physical exhaustion. It was everything else swirling in my head. Y/N’s face flashing in my mind, Toji’s words digging into my chest, Kenjaku’s voice still ringing in my ears about rehab.

I leaned my forehead against the floor, my fists clenching. 

Why can’t I just shut it all off? Just for a little while?

The idea of her being pregnant—it was absurd. It had to be. But the thought wouldn’t stop gnawing at me. What if? What if she was? What if she wasn’t?

And what if I wasn’t even around to find out?

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the empty room. “She’s better off without me,” I muttered under my breath.

Still, the thought wouldn’t leave. It lingered, festering like an open wound, making my chest tighten.

I forced myself to sit up, leaning against the couch as I rubbed my hands over my face. I could feel my body screaming for another hit, another drink, anything to numb the storm in my head.

But deep down, I knew nothing would make it stop. Not really.

Kenjaku strolled over and pulled me up off the floor, his grip firm, almost too tight. I hadn't even realized I was still on the ground until he yanked me upright.

"You need help," he said, his voice low and steady, but his eyes burned with something harsher—disappointment, maybe, or frustration.

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. "No," I muttered, my voice cracking slightly. "I don’t need help. I need it to stop."

He didn’t say anything, just stared at me like he was waiting for more.

“The noise, the thoughts... I just need it all to stop,” I continued, my hands trembling as I tried to steady myself against the couch. "Maybe a Xanax... something to take the edge off."

Kenjaku’s lips curled into a bitter scoff, and before I could react, he shoved me back down onto the floor. The impact jarred me, knocking the air out of my lungs for a second.

“You’re unbelievable,” he snapped, standing over me like I was some kind of pathetic, broken thing. “You think another pill is going to fix this? That it’ll fix you?”

I glared up at him, my hands braced against the floor. “Why the fuck do you care, huh? You’re not my family. You’re not my fucking anything!”

Kenjaku crossed his arms, his expression cold, almost calculating. "Maybe not, but someone has to give a damn about you since you clearly don’t."

His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I turned my face away, staring at the cigarette butt smoldering in the ashtray on the table. “You don’t know what it’s like,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s that?” he asked, leaning down slightly.

“To live with this... this constant noise,” I said, tapping my temple. "The memories, the guilt, the fucking pressure. You don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning every single second of the day and to know no one can pull you out."

Kenjaku crouched down, his face level with mine. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever dealt with shit? You think you're special because you're in pain? Grow up, Sukuna.”

I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening. “Fuck you.”

“No,” he said, standing back up. “Fuck you for thinking this is how it has to be. You’re better than this, but you’re too much of a coward to try.”

I looked away, swallowing hard. His words cut deep, but I didn’t want to show it. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I’ll tell you what,” Kenjaku continued, his tone softening just slightly. “You want the noise to stop? You want to get out of this pit you’ve thrown yourself into? Fine. But it’s going to take more than a fucking Xanax.”

I didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. But somewhere, deep down, a small, flickering thought took root.

What if he was right?

Kenjaku’s eyes narrowed, and his voice dripped with disdain as he went in on me.

“When was the last time you even looked at yourself, man? You’re withering away. Skin and bones. Walking around like a ghost of who you used to be,” he said, pacing in front of me like he was building up momentum. “Is this what you want? To fade into nothing?”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to meet his gaze. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t I?” he shot back, stopping abruptly to stare me down. “When was the last time you did anything that wasn’t about numbing yourself? Did you even sign up for the new school year? Or is that just another thing you’ve let rot?”

I bristled at his tone, my fists tightening at my sides. “I took time off. You know that.”

“Yeah, when Jin died,” he replied, his voice softening for a split second before hardening again. “And I understood. Everyone did. But you said one year, Sukuna. One year. Now look at you. What the hell are you even doing?”

“I’m dropping out,” I said flatly, my voice low but steady.

Kenjaku stopped pacing, blinking like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Then he laughed.

A sharp, bitter laugh that cut through the room like a knife.

“Dropping out?” he repeated, his eyebrows raising in mock surprise. “That’s your big plan? Just throw it all away? Jesus Christ, Sukuna. Do you even hear yourself?”

“I don’t care about school, Ken,” I snapped, finally looking up at him. “It doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course, it doesn’t matter to you. Nothing does anymore, does it? Not school, not your family, not even yourself.”

“Don’t bring my family into this,” I warned, my voice low and dangerous.

“Oh, I’m bringing them into this,” Kenjaku fired back. “Because while you’re busy spiraling, they’re the ones who have to deal with the fallout. Yuuji. Choso. Hell, even Toji. They’re all trying to hold it together while you—”

“SHUT UP!” I shouted, cutting him off. My voice echoed in the room, and for a moment, everything went silent.

I could feel my chest heaving, my fists trembling. Kenjaku didn’t flinch. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable.

“You’re better than this, Sukuna,” he said quietly, his tone lacking the usual sharpness. “Or at least, you used to be. But if you want to throw it all away, fine. Just don’t pretend like it’s anyone’s fault but yours.”

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. The weight of his words pressed down on me, suffocating, but undeniable.

I glanced around the room, my gaze flickering over the scattered bottles, the ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, and the faces staring at me—Kenjaku’s, Uraume’s. It felt like they were all closing in, suffocating me.

They don’t get it. None of them do.

The words echoed in my head, growing louder and louder until they slipped past my lips before I even realized it.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

The room froze. The air felt heavy, and for a moment, I thought maybe I hadn’t said it out loud. But then Uraume’s voice broke the silence, soft but trembling.

“You don’t mean that,” they said, stepping closer. Their eyes searched mine, desperate for something—anything—that would prove I wasn’t serious.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Kenjaku’s jaw tightened, his sharp gaze cutting through me like a blade. “Sukuna,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Don’t say shit like that unless you’re ready to have a real conversation about it.”

“I’m not having a fucking conversation,” I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I intended. “It’s not a cry for help, okay? It’s just the truth.”

“You’re lying to yourself,” Uraume said, their voice stronger now, almost angry. “You’re drowning, Sukuna, and instead of reaching for help, you’re just letting yourself sink. But don’t drag us down with you.”

I flinched at their words, my body tensing.

“Sink or swim, huh?” I muttered bitterly, shaking my head. “That’s what everyone keeps saying. Like it’s that fucking simple.”

“It’s not simple,” Kenjaku cut in, his tone sharper now. “But you don’t get to just give up and act like you’ve got no choices. You’re still here, Sukuna. That means something.”

I laughed, a hollow, bitter sound that made Uraume flinch. “You’re all so sure it does. But if I’m just gonna keep fucking everything up, what’s the point? Jin’s gone because of me. Grandpa’s gone. Everyone would’ve been better off if I wasn’t—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Uraume snapped, their voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t you dare.”

I looked up at them, my vision blurring. Their face was a mix of anger and pain, their fists clenched tightly at their sides.

“Do you really believe that?” Kenjaku asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “That the people who love you would be better off without you? Think about Yuuji. Choso. Hell, even Y/N. You really think they’d be better without you?”

My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, the lump refusing to go away.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. The words felt like glass, sharp and jagged as they left my mouth. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

Uraume stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Then let us help you figure it out,” they said softly. “But you have to let us in, Sukuna. You can’t keep shutting everyone out.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The weight of their words pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Part of me wanted to believe them.

But the other part—the louder part—kept screaming that it didn’t matter. That nothing mattered.

I looked away, unable to meet their eyes.

I was tired. Tired of the fighting, the guilt, the endless cycle of fucking up and trying to fix it.

“I’ll think about it,” I muttered finally, the words feeling empty even as I said them.

Kenjaku didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “That’s a start,” he said. “But thinking isn’t enough, Sukuna. Eventually, you’re gonna have to do something.”

Eventually.

I needed to go back home. back to work. I did to stifle myself a bit. I got up to leave. then I hit the floor.

FUCK!

[kupidachillea]

is it okay to ask for your hcs on Apollo? Specifically yandere headcannons? I loved the way you wrote him in the last yandere Olympians so I just wanted to see more of him :3 (totally ok if you don't want to do it!! Love your works!! 💞💞💞)

(Yandere) Apollo x You Hcs

Author note: Ah- I see the Apollon fans have been using requests to their advantage and I love it, lol. Sorry that this took so long, I prefer quality over quantity. So I don’t want to rush myself and give you also something you won’t enjoy! So I hope you like this💕

TW (trigger warning):This will have a Yandere themes in it. And while the Olympians themselves aren’t really yanderes- they do share similar tendencies considering their myths. Please note that this isn’t completely accurate to their mythology- but it’s just a bit of fun so please take no offence and be nice in the comments.

CW (content warning)⚠️: Readers please be either 17-18+ to read this I mean. This includes light mentions of nudity, toxic behaviour. General Yandere behaviour. Reader’s discretion is advised.

☀️- Apollon was your boyfriend. Not the most normal partner you’ve had but definitely the most attentive and loving.

🎵- His caresses feel like the sun itself is holding you in a warm, tight embrace. And his kisses are even better..they remind you of the sun’s rays peeking through the curtains in your bedroom and landing gracefully on you.

☀️- You were literally sun kissed. To put it lightly, he was everything you wanted and you were everything he wanted… and more. He loved you so much.

🎵- At first, Apollon was nervous to even consider a relationship with you. Not because he didn’t like you but because he knew how most of his other relationships have played out in the past.

☀️- Being happy one minute with his lover before death ripped them away from in one cruel swoop. So he had procrastinated quite a bit before finally asking the question that’s been eating him inside.

🎵- When you said ‘yes’, he was beyond ecstatic to say the least. And he will admit, the more time he spent with you the more he seemed to show a mixture of love and obsession.

☀️- For a moment he thought that it was the work of Eros once more just trying to harass him like in the days of old with his late love, Daphne. But no..this was all him. He wasn’t sure if he were to be scared, or embrace this side of himself…but over time, the decision was made for him.

🎵- As the days wore on, his love for you grew. You were just so perfect to him…so pretty…yet so fragile. He couldn’t let anything happen to you- hell- he can’t let anyone touch you. No one deserved to touch your precious body. No one but him..

☀️- “Mmm…you’re so beautiful..” He would slur as you both laid in bed cuddling each other bare. His body was so warm against yours…he felt like a living breathing heater.

🎵- “So beautiful..and so mine…” Apollon would grumble..firstly kissing your neck and gently weaving his finger through your hair. “All mine…isn’t that right, love?” He asked, though you weren’t entirely sure if you could respond, your body trembled slightly when he bit down on your neck..causing a love bite to eventually form as he sucked on the area.

☀️- His hands getting greedy, gently tugging your hair back so your neck would crane slightly. This allowed him more access to your delectable neck. “Of course you’re mine…only the best for someone like you…only a god can satisfy you and give you what you need.” He almost growled his words as he licked a long strip up to your jaw, causing you to gasp and shudder. His tongue flat against your neck, tasting your skin and his free arm curling around your waste only for his hand to grip the meat of your arse tightly.

🎵- “No mortal man or woman is allowed to have you…not even the gods…only me.” He would utter. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone other than himself having you. It didn’t seem right to him. How could did he go so long without knowing you before?

☀️- You knew Apollon was a possessive man, and it couldn’t be helped..You actually excused most of his behaviour. Passing it off as just deity behaviour. Besides..he meant you no harm. He just wanted you safe and sound in his arms. Right?

🎵- Of course he did..that’s why he thought he was perfectly within his right to…eliminate and threats or competition.

☀️- It’s not like you’d notice a few of your pathetic so call ‘friends’ going missing anyway. You were too busy focusing all your time and energy on him.

🎵- All your love was his. He’d often watch you sleep…smiling dreamily to himself as he watched your chest rise and fall. That sweet little mortal heart of yours beating steadily. Oh how he’d do anything to keep you with him…permanently..

☀️- “Let us get married, my Love…~” He said one day. Your eyes widening and your brows raising. Marriage..? With Apollon? You definitely didn’t take him for the ‘setting down’ type.

🎵- You smiled softly and told him as much as you loved him and how you adored him, you thought it would be best to wait a few more months. That led the god of sunlight to pout like a child.

☀️- He didn’t understand. If you loved him, why wouldn’t you marry him? Sure he isn’t really known to have anything beyond lovers but he was serious about this. But for now he dropped it and nodded. You would smile at him and place a sweet kiss on his lips that made him melt.

🎵- But if you honestly thought Apollon would quit there then you’re wrong. It wasn’t fair. He deserved to have you for eternity. You were his and he was yours. He couldn’t allow another partner to slip through his fingers like this..no..he couldn’t..he wouldn’t.

☀️- He wanted you..he needed you. Just how the flowers needed the sun…so he did something..slightly drastic on his part…

🎵- He carried you to Olympus while you were asleep. Was it smart? He thought so…and he hoped you would think so too. This way you both could be together forever and you’d be safe from harm and any mortal disease.

☀️- When you awoke, you found yourself in a room that wasn’t your own ..the bed was way more comfortable than your own and the designs and art were..ancient to say the least.

🎵- Before you could fully process what was going on, Apollo appeared and brought you into his arms. Oh..now you have an idea of what was happening.

☀️- “Ah, my Love..don’t be mad but I did you the courtesy of moving you in with me..” He started..his voice soft yet a hint of excitement laced his voice along with something darker as he stroked your hair..

🎵- “After all- you did technically day you wanted to spend more time together before we got married. So what better way to do that than living together?” He asked. It was obviously rhetorical, he was grinning from ear to ear as he spoke. Meanwhile you were just in shock..you wanted to argue and protest- saying that this is not what you meant but he promptly shut you up with a firm kiss to the lips.

☀️- You felt your breath hitch in your throat..this kiss felt different from the ones you usually shared with him. This one felt more forceful and possessive. As if he was trying to claim you.. after what felt like an eternity he finally pulled away..his gaze now softer as he stroked your cheek.

🎵- “You need not worry, Dearest…I am all that you need. No one else deserves to have you..only me. We deserve to be together.” The golden haired god spoke. His voice having a slight purr to it as he nuzzled your neck, a shiver went down your spine at the feeling. “And I won’t let anything or anyone stop us from being together….unlike the others…I will have you for eternity…~”

Author note: Oof- sorry this took so long. Trying to pace myself here so I’m not rushing and there’s more quality than quantity. But I appreciate all the love and the requests. I promise to get to them all!💕

[akashirl]

this is the part where i use tumblr as a diary. consider this whatever you'd like but i need to get this off of my chest.

i love sei so much. so, so much. it's immeasurable. no matter how happy or sad i am, no matter how strong or apathetic my feelings are, there is always warmth in my heart caused by him. it's a comforting feeling, knowing that he's here for me. even in his own, different way, we managed to be together in this universe, even if distant.

he just makes my heart flutter like i'm a little kid receiving a letter on valentine's day...everytime i look at him, i feel nervous due to unexplainable reasons. trust me, i don't know what it is either. is it because of my feelings for him or am i just getting lost in his eyes, once again?

love is a beautiful feeling. he reminds me of such everyday. he is everywhere, he is everything i see. all of my daily experiences, completely dominated by my occurring thoughts of him. sei is always present, one way or another.

you may find this a little bit unhealthy but it really isn't. when i was at my worst, he motivated me to become who i am today. i am still recovering, that is true, and i won't say that he saved me -- because as much as it looks like, he didn't. i was the one who saved myself, with him by my side, supporting me unconditionally. that is what true love feels like. i will never get to thank him enough for his presence in my life. it won't ever be enough.

and it's not like there isn't a pattern. in every room i'm in, in every media i consume, in every place my mind takes me, in every corner of my head -- he is there. i find him, over and over again. he truly is my soulmate. that much i know it's true.

he just makes me so happy and contributes to my mood more than anyone else in the world.

watching him grow as a person and become who he is today made me realize just how much i love him. even if he feels undeserving of love after his defeat -- even if he blames himself for not trying his best, even if he is still dwelling on his lost childhood and teenage years. i will be there. i will always be there.

i've said this before but it all comes down to how warm he makes my chest feel. it's the best feeling in the world - love. and being with someone who you care for and understand more than anyone else...it's priceless.

i was going to say that i am glad i found him but the truth is that we found eachother. the red string of fate put the both of us on a heart shaped lock, unable to escape -- not that i'd ever want to.

i just want to hold him in my arms and tell him that everything is going to be okay. that there's more to life than loss and unfortunate events. that he's more than a body, that he's so much more than the storm inside of his head, that he's so much more than a young boy inside a big house. i want to see him happy, i want to see him enjoying life to the fullest, something he hasn't been able to do. i want to see him smile. i want to let him know that perfection is so, so subjective -- and that in my eyes, all of him is perfect. cracked, broken, shattered, screwn over again and again -- dealt with as if he was nothing but a tool to success...i want him to know that he's more, so much more than that.

i want to see it in his eyes that he's content. sei deserves all the love this world has to offer, and i have the entire love of the world stored inside my heart.

loving him feels like having a taste of the sweetest cloud as well as feeling a spear cross your heart. it's an uncertainty how every day passes by -- ruled by thoughts of him. i miss his presence, his eyes, his touch, him. more than anything in this world...

i mean, how could you not adore such a kind soul? there is so much of him to love. sei is so deserving of it. love is not earned; but if it was, you can bet he'd be the absolute winner.

i don't say the word "love" a lot due to past traumas but there is no other word capable of explaining the fluttering feeling in my chest. and still, the word does not feel strong enough. i hope i make sense.

i just love him so, so much. it's a delight having him in my life, even if we have to be apart.

sei really is my safe place. my one and only. my love is immeasurable and my heart is sinking. in another life, you and i will be reunited. i just know it. you were made for me -- just like i was born to meet you.

♡

i doubt anyone has read this but if you did, i apologize. i just needed to talk about this somewhere and tumblr seemed like the perfect place. i just couldn't keep it in.

[sweet-melons-spam]

I nearly stopped making art, because I wouldn’t let up on myself.

To keep myself creating. I remind myself, it’s okay if no one sees it, it’s okay if no one gets it, and it’s okay if it isn’t perfect all the time.

What matters in the end is that you’re creating, and enjoying the process as you do. Even if the end product isn’t always what you would’ve wanted.

Friendly reminder to not punish yourself for creating. 

[moonwolfblues]

Chapter 2, here we go!!!

You Look At Me Like I'm All You Want (I'm Hardwired To Be With You) by MoonWolfBlues

sterek | General Audiences | 4,695 words | 2/? Read on AO3: Ch. 1 | Ch. 2

---

Stiles woke up groggy and out of it. His mouth felt like cotton and his limbs ached. He reached out gently with his magic, assessing his immediate surroundings. He could sense that he wasn’t at home, but he didn’t seem to be surrounded by enemies either for once. He’d woken up in restraints enough times to recognize the feel of them and that wasn’t what was happening here. Actually, he had no idea what was happening here.

The last thing he remembered was the explosion and feeling the pack bonds break before running for his life through the preserve.

He couldn’t hear anyone talking, so he risked opening one eye. Of course, he regretted it immediately when he was met with the hard stare of what could only be an imposing alpha. And not one that he recognized. It was just his luck that his spark would go on the fritz at a time like this. He should have been able to sense an unfamiliar presence with his magic, but for some reason he didn’t sense her.

He groaned and opened his eyes the rest of the way. He had been caught and no amount of faking on his part would get past an alpha’s keen senses, so there was no point in trying to hide that he was awake.

He moved to sit up and groaned even harder at the pain in his side. He looked down and put his hand to the newly applied bandage. Hmm… they cleaned his wounds? So they weren’t completely evil. But if he remembered correctly, the wound wasn’t that deep, well not deep enough that his bond and spark shouldn’t have started healing it by now. Which could only mean, “I’m not healing.”

This seemed to catch the alpha’s attention. “Should you be?”

“Well yeah, that’s kind of an advantage to being an Alpha’s mate. One of the cooler ones if I do say so myself.” He was rambling. He really needed to stop doing that in front of potential enemies. “That’s beside the point. Where am I? Why did you bandage my wounds?”

Her surprise turned to apprehension at his mention of mates but she didn’t move from her place at the door. “What Alpha do you serve?”

“Okay, guess we’re not answering any of my questions today.” He rolled his eyes and looked around the room. From the small window near the ceiling, he could tell it was daytime and that he was underground, most likely in a basement if the lack of furnishings and damp air was anything to go by. He couldn’t have been out that long, probably a few hours tops, so they couldn’t have dragged him far.

In fact, when he sent his magic out again, with a clearer head this time, he could feel it sing with the magic of his own territory. “My name is Stiles Stilinski, and I am the emissary of the Hale Pack.” He looked back over to the alpha and stared her down with his own brand of well-earned fierceness. “Which you should already know, seeing as we’re still on Hale land.”

The look on the Alpha’s face would be comical if she didn’t remind him so much of his dad, imposing and fierce with a touch of softness that only a parent could hold. And wasn’t that a sobering thought? Immediately, he felt the grief pouring over him in waves. It was all he could do to not cry out at the loss of his pack, of his friends and family and loved ones.

It took him a few moments to compose himself. When his eyes met the alpha’s again, they had softened somewhat. He mentally rolled his eyes. Stupid werewolves and their stupid sniffers always snooping on his emotional state. He used his spark to clamp down on his emotions. Putting a wall up between him and his grief. This wasn’t the time. He would have to deal with the loss eventually, but not when he was in the presence of an unknown alpha.

The silence was stretching longer than he was comfortable with. Granted, all silence made him uncomfortable, but he was determined to wait this out. He had done enough answering. It was the alpha’s turn to talk.

She looked like she had a lot of questions but the one he didn’t expect was, “What do you know about my son?”

His head tilted to the side, a habit he picked up over the years from spending too much time with his pack. Her son? He didn’t know her son. Why would he…? But then gray eyes flashed in his mind and he remembered who had tackled him to the ground just before he passed out. He thought it had been a dream but by the look on the Alpha’s face, it wasn’t.

“Derek…” he said it with the same love and grief that he had earlier. The emotions in his chest were battling for dominance. Grief at his death, at the loss of both their soul bond and pack bond. And cautious relief at the potential of Derek being alive. “But that’s not possible. He’s de-“ he couldn’t bring himself to say it, so instead he shook his head.

Think, think, think. What are you missing?

There was the weird light in the preserve as he was running for his life. There was the magazine-worthy mansion where the burnt-to-hell Hale House should have been. He could feel that he was on Hale land. And there was his spark going on the fritz and not recognizing an enemy five feet away from him… unless the alpha wasn’t an enemy.

“No,” he whispered, “you can’t be.” But when he looked up into the face of the strong woman in front of him, he could see the same dark hair and pale gray eyes as Derek. The same hard set of brows that could speak so well without needing a single word to be spoken aloud. He looked at her in horror and awe, “You’re Talia Hale.”

“Yes.” She said, stone-faced. “And who are you, Emissary Stillinski?”

“But you can’t be.” He yelled in exasperation, his arms flailing around him. “How are you alive? Did I bring you back without meaning to? Did Peter? God knows he has the practical experience.”

And he lost her again. The confusion and frustration was rolling off of her in thick waves. The more he said, the deeper set her frown became.

He was working himself into a frenzy, his mind working too fast. So he did the only thing he knew: he trusted his gut and released his spark in full force, letting the magic reach out of him in search of answers. He could feel his eyes and tattoos glow violet with the power. In the low light of the basement, he shone like a lava lamp, the light pulsing in time with the beat of his heart.

He heard her gasp, but it sounded far away with his attention focused elsewhere.

It didn’t take long to find answers. He felt Talia in front of him and a small group of people outside the door of the room they were in, how he hadn’t heard them with his enhanced hearing, he wasn’t sure. But above them he could sense floors and floors and floors of people. And all he could picture was the family gathered at the front of the house when he launched into the clearing. Most of them with dark hair and gray eyes. The… Hales.

“You’re alive,” he whispered, his voice gradually building. Goosebumps were quickly building along his arms, though he barely noticed them. “You’re all alive. How did you survive? No, scratch that. What about the fire? And Kate? And the mountain ash barrier? Did that just never happen? Oh my god, my brain hurts. How can you all be alive?” He just barely managed to miss hitting himself in the face with his flailing, though he did manage to pull at the injury on his side, and boy, did that hurt.

When his eyes were finally able to focus on Talia again, the reality of the situation hit him. Derek was alive. And he grew up with a loving family. And he never had to take on the guilt of their deaths. Never had to carry it with him while bad thing after bad thing tried to topple him. By the end of his questions, he was crying. Full-on blubbering with big ole baby tears.

Talia looked extremely uncomfortable with the turn of events but he didn’t care. He was too happy for the Derek that got all of this.

She stepped towards him, probably hoping to strangle him into stopping the waterworks. But her voice was unexpectedly soft when she spoke. “How do you know about the fire and about what the Argents tried to do?” She paused, “...And why do you smell relieved that their attempt failed?”

He sniffled like the strong man that he was, not even trying to wipe the tears away because he knew they weren’t going to stop any time soon. “Because from where I’m from, they did succeed, and it tore him apart. But here… here he gets to wake up every day to a family that loves him and cares for him, and that’s the best news I’ve gotten in a long, long time.”

She looked stunned that a stranger could care so much about her son. “Who are you?” she asked with wonder in her voice.

“I’m Stiles. And I think I may have accidentally altered time and space as we know it so you might want to call Deaton.” He smiled at her continued surprise at his knowledge of her life. “You still work with him, right? If the fire never happened, then he would still be your emissary.”

She nodded in confirmation.

“Then get him over here ‘cause we’ve got a lot to discuss.”

Read the full chapter on AO3.

[orthodoxchristianity]

Heartbreak: the art of letting go

This one is a bit personal for me, but I thought to share since I know many other people may be feeling the same way. Please read and share any advice or experience you may have, it would be greatly appreciated. God-bless!

The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, And saves such as have a contrite spirit.

Psalm 34:18

Heartbreak. It isn't easy. It's even harder being stuck in between two thoughts. Firstly obsessing over what could have been, thinking should I have said this, or should I have said that. Why did I not do this or why did I not tell him that? It's hard to let go of the expectations in your mind or the plans you made that you wanted to share, all the little daily updates you sent waiting to hear back from him. But secondly, as a Christian, my understanding that God does what is best for us stays in my mind. The knowledge that God takes care of us even when we do not understand it. For He knows and sees far more than we will ever understand, and that is okay. Having trust in His timing and His plan for us is vital. I pray every day "God please remove anyone or anything that is not meant to be in my life", and then why do I get sad when God answers this prayer? Maybe I thought I knew him but clearly he was not meant to be in my life anymore, no matter how sad it may be now.

Taking it day by day is needed because in some moments I feel okay, but in other moments I remember how he looked and me and the lovely moments we shared. I know that one day I will look back on all the moments I shared with him and be at peace. I know that love is never wasted. But one thing is to know and another is to actually enact it. It seems to be like a separation between my head and my heart. My head acting rational and reminding myself to not let the enemy tell me lies, whereas my heart still holding onto the hope of what could have been.

I keep thinking why wasn't he the one Lord? Why couldn't he have been the one for me?

I know that it was done for a reason, that the Lord has bigger and better things in store for me. Perhaps this is simply a lesson. My time with him is brief in the grand scheme of life and of all the people and things I am yet to experience. But it is still hard to let go, even though I know it's the end, that's it.

Perhaps I wasn't ready or he wasn't, but either way it seems the timing was not right. As I pray every day, "All in God's timing".

I know that when the right person comes it will be in God's timing and it will be bring me peace, rather than anxiety. I understand that I probably am still holding onto him because of the inherent fear of being single. Seeing so many of my friends get into relationships easily and of course I am beyond happy for them but it is hard to not think oh when will the love of my life come? I guess this brings me back to the concept of patience and trusting in the Lord for His plans and timing is far better than mine. I feel like this society really pushes for moving and doing everything fast, whereas the Bible tells us:

"Love is patient, love is kind...Love never fails." (1 Corinthians 13:4-8, NIV)

I harbour no anger or hatred towards him, for given the circumstances I can understand where he was coming from. I do, however, pray that he heals from anything that is holding him back. I pray for him to let go off anything from the past that is keeping him stuck emotionally. I pray he finds love and happiness.

I don't know if anyone else can relate to the feeling of 'intellectualising' my emotions. I try to solve them rather than feel. I have been trying to slow down and just let myself feel rather than simply keeping myself busy and giving myself no time to heal. I know there is a reason he came into my life, God is teaching me through this experience, so I need to slow down and feel my emotions.

If you are still reading thank you. I know heartbreak is a part of human life, it is something we all go through in various shapes or forms throughout our life. I hope this makes me stronger and I hope that you find peace and love and happiness. Whoever is reading, I hope you heal from any hurt and that the Lord blesses you abundantly in everything you do.

In Jesus' name,

Amen

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.

Jeremiah 29:11, NKJV

[synergysilhouette]

9 hot takes/unpopular opinions with DC and Marvel Comics

Originally this was a Marvel-exclusive post with just 5 hot takes (because I was NOT ready to defend myself against people who disagreed with 10), but some of my hot takes were things I shared with DC, so I thought I'd just do a 10-point hot take post on both (only to realize I miscounted this after posting, so it's just 9). And these opinions are slightly generalized, with very few focusing on individual characters. This is largely still an X-men post, but has some other things.

Different codenames--It's fairly common in comics books for a character to take a codename that someone else already had, either for story purposes (ie to honor the character) or for marketing reasons (certain names carry a lot of weight and would make people more interested in an unrelated character). That said, it's very unimaginative and boring to me. Unless you're purposefully trying to steal someone's identity or deceive someone, get your own codename.

2. No magical mutants--(Dislaimer: BIG X-Men fan). Okay, everyone's gonna kill me for this, especially since this has been a staple since I got into comics, but I'm not the biggest fan of it. At the very least, stop doing it going forward. I'm not against mutants having fantasy adventures and villains (ESPECIALLY as a fantasy fan), but being mutants is supposed to be what unites them, having powers derived from human evolution and the consequences that come with it. Not saying every story has to be about racism and how they overcome it, but I do think characters with powers independent of their mutant status kind of cheapen the experience. It's almost like "why be a mutant at all?" And for some characters, it's not entirely clear what powers are mutant, and what are magical. While having magic powers would get some prejudice, magic is treated a bit differently in the Marvel universe, from what I've seen. It's almost like "What are you fighting for?" It kinda reminds me of how Chris Claremont had Scott marry Madelaine, start a family, and wanted to retire him from the superhero business--but you don't retire from being the victim of racism. I think this is why Krakoa was so fascinating to me since it's founding was based on helping mutants escape the prejudice of regular humans.

3. Families/marriage--It's often said that couples in comic books don't last because writers don't know how to keep them together and interesting, along with the misguided belief that adding kids to the equation automatically makes you boring and retired, even though this isn't necessarily true. Plus there's also the publisher's preference to "shake things up" in order to keep people engaged, even if we were happy with what we had, meaning messy breakups, death, etc. It's all about how you write it, and relationships in comics shouldn't be treated like they're that flexible. We love consistency.

4. Stoic Batman needs to stop being the default--Most modern depictions LOVE to depict Batman (and Bruce Wayne) as emotionally distant, cold to those he cares about, and prefer to do things on his own because he believes he's the only one capable of doing so. The reasoning is often just because it's cool to be edgy (another issue I have with comics), and sometimes chalking it up to trauma, but in the world of comic books, I feel like you don't have to depict him as consistently a jerk about it. Batman's most emotional and compassionate moments are some of his best. Not saying he needs to have a bleeding heart, but having an emotional core isn't a crime.

5. No uniforms--This is just a matter of preference, but I don't like uniforms. I count uniforms of one of three things: having the same/similar colors but different styles (ie W.I.T.C.H.), having different colors but the same/similar style, or both the colors and style being the same or at least similar. I was never a fan of it, preferring individuality in appearances and personal style.

6. No major sexuality changes if you've been depicted as a certain sexuality for 15+ years--As a gay guy, this frustrates the heck out of me. Aside from drawing attention away from LGBT+ characters who debuted as such or were addressed as such early on, major characters getting sexuality retcons feels like a betrayal of character consistency (again: WE LOVE CONSISTENCY). I like to use Iceman as an example, because a lot of people say he was gay-coded when people argued against him coming out as gay. Yeah...in my opinion, he wasn't gay-coded, he just had a backstory that could be READ as gay-coded, matching his new sexuality; there's a difference between being coded and it just conveniently serving the current, unrelated narrative. And Bobby's sexuality has almost become a persoanlity trait for him like that's all he's got going. I have a similar issue with Tim Drake, who's depicted as bi now, with bisexual-debuting character Ghostmaker (a member of the Batfamily who was shown as bi shortly before Tim was), gets less attention. And given DC's mistreatment and mismanagement of Tim, them making him bi feels like they were desperately trying to find a way to market him in a way different from the other Robins when everything else was failing. Even ignoring my regular feelings about sexuality retconning (though I should note that an artist for Tim in the 2000s did try to hint at him being into guys), DC's had major issues with characterizing Tim as indecisive when they have to walk back on decisions they make because fans don't like it, ie Tim's "Drake" codename and costume. Because of that, him being bi feels like DC subtley trying to double down on him being indecisive/of two minds, which is insulting.

Sorry for the rant! But that brings me to my next point.

7. Tim Drake is continually being set up to fail--ARGUE WITH THE WALL. This topic is a bit more heated for me than others, but it's true. Tim joined Batman because he saw how he changed emotionally when Robin (Jason Todd) died, as well as having a family, a social life, and was the smartest Robin at the time, as well as becoming Robin voluntarily. However, with time, this was changed; the other Robins became more tech-savvy and Tim became and orphan and was adopted by Bruce Wayne, removing Tim's sense of identity to a significant degree. On top of this, any teams he led or friend she had were sadly underrated himself, preventing him from using any A-list connections outside his family to elevate his own position. Plus Tim has usually always been happy as Robin, but several situations have arisen where him advocating Robin as Batman's partner instead of sidekick have been undermined by others trying to tell Tim to do something else that was "his own." However, when he tries this, DC does it in a way that is uninteresting or annoying to the fans, like the aforementioned "Drake" debacle (brown as a costume choice isn't very eye-catching, and using part of your name as a codename in the modern era should be outlawed). And even when he got a comic of his own after he came out as bi, DC had the art done by Riley Rossmo, whose art style was...not great, only getting a different artist towards the end, but it was very clear that they were kinda just giving him a solo just to say they did; he didn't have an artist to actually do him right, nor a story that felt empowering to his character or unique.

8. Skintones should be more consistent--It's a personal opinion of mine (especially for POC) that a (human) character's debut skintone should be their canon skintone, no matter how light or dark it is, with little room for variation. A lot of characters end up looking WILDLY different, sometimes with even different facial features and eye colors. I feel like there should be a comic bible for this.

9. Krakoa should've lasted longer--Is this a hot take? Inn any case, it was really fun seeing some villains turn over a new leaf, familiar characters go down a new path, and new characters/underrated mutants getting attention. Definitely feel like this should've been at least 10 years long.

[from-the-owls-nest]

mhm. what if you're too broken, in too tiny pieces, even the base too shattered to rebuild from. what if there's too little good left.

*swallow* that... that probably wasn't the most helpful answer. but I know what you mean. and I don't really have a fix or anything.

*drily, like, ironically* should probably clarify that the you in that first sentence meant me and just me. so. before you get any more ideas. because of course for Me that's Different! At least for my chaos brain tangles.

[ooc: Philosophy Below. idk brain ran away with thoughts call me if u find it /silly]

*silence, thinking over the words again* I don't know. All I can hope is that - that sentence from the movie Aria likes. When we can see no future, all we can do is the next right thing. the next little ray of sunlight. the next little moment of peace.

And if none of that is possible... Wait, and hold on, and look for them, and hope they come back soon. This is just my thoughts - my little agreement with myself. I gotta try the best I can, even if the best I can is a break from trying to recover. And then I'll know that Past Me did their best for me now and that I owe it to Future me to do my best for what they might become. Even if they weren't very successful. Like deciding that however I am right now is me too, and so I am all these things and parts, the good and the rough ones, and they all together make the full me. It's these nice little shortcut across the self blaming and infighting that take a long time to work out but help wherever they hold.

But like. I think I owe it my future self to hold on, and to get through the storms. Our past selves have come such a long way, and who knows where we'll go next, what our future selves and lives might be like. So like. I do think that new paths open up all the time, possibilities. Even if the ones now are all bad, who knows where we can still go. And the only way to find out is to try, and to do our best.

*they pull out their diary, and from the front a little calendar page* Look. I... It's one of these pages I'll keep forever and ever because I need the reminder, and give to others when they might need it. I don't know if it's right. I hope so. and I think the only way to find out is to try and hold on.

For me that's enough. That, little hopes, little good moments, even just the memory of warmth and hope and the knowledge that all that was once can come again - in different forms, maybe, but it can. *turning to lay it next to Will's sneaker*

*more silence* But. Well. That's really big thoughts, and hard to see when everything is so dark. Hm. okay just to throw some thoughts out. You don't have to tell me, you don't have to think about it, just... some ideas. Little windows into that maybe, whenever you're able to look.

what do the voices say? can they maybe be talked to, or be both a little right?

is there anything you wish wouldn't stop? or come back? any little thing. ignore realism and context all that. if you were playing make-believe, your own little world, what would it look like? if you want to we can take turns. I play that game regularly cause, well, bad memory, and i probably should start again.

and... does it have to be a *bad* hurt? like. yes. you're different. stuff happened, and it changed you, and that really really hurt. you might not be the same person as before. is that a bad thing? or, you said nasty. sure. right now it's raw and painful and doesnt fit yet. but... could all these little shards grow back together and become something scarred and mended, and different?

I hope they could. I'd really miss you - not you from before, you however you are right now and however you want to be. Idk doesn't make much sense but - people if they change are still that person, right? just... changed, by a situation or because they got to know themselves better or whatever. Like Butterflies. I'd like to see the next chapter, with you if you want or just knowing there was one for you.

Image Credit @thelatestkate and her website

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[bittersweetblasphemy]

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[hinamie]

i'm back from vacation have a belated new year draws <3