#i actually don’t do hurt comfort

[literaila]

Can we PLEASE get some angst, followed by comfort (in the same one shot) up in this house?

you know you want to write it 😏

okay, he thinks. this has happened before.

satoru is used to pain and injuries and sending people off to be checked on. he’s used to being chaperoned through a hospital, counting the room numbers as he walks through the halls.

he’s no stranger to curses.

(sometimes it feels like they follow him around, just lurking in his shadow, so sure that he can’t see them from where he’s standing.

but satoru sees everything; he feels it.

he’s learned to bide his time and wait in the dark, wait for the moment of attack—he’s learned how to prepare himself for those types of things).

you’ve done this before, he thinks, so it’s fine.

when suguru got that concussion in shinjuku, when yaga broke his leg while showing them an abandoned district. when he was seven and his instructor led him down these same halls, telling him to keep his eyes peeled for anything, to keep his guard up if it was the last thing he’d do.

and it’s fine. room 303. he’s going to walk in the room and he’ll feel the same as he does every time he’s here—maybe a little bit misplaced, maybe a bit arrogant, angry because he wouldn’t have gotten hurt—but never afraid.

gojo satoru doesn’t feel fear. it was trained out of him by the time he was five.

he might be alone this time, a hole where someone else would be—someone who was actually scared, someone who felt concern like a normal person. but satoru doesn’t need anything to fill that hole.

he doesn’t need to worry.

it’s just a hospital. it’s just another curse, something he’ll easily overcome.

except for the fact that it’s you, of course.

when he walks in the room, the lights are off. satoru doesn’t mind this, really, because he’s never needed any lamp to see. and besides, its not that dark outside anyway—even if the curtains are drawn.

you’re not the first thing he sees. it’s the flowers hiding in the corner of the room, the only void of cursed energy there.

and then satoru turns, and he realizes that there’s another void.

it’s slight, because people have cursed energy even when they’re sorcerers—even if they’re as happy as tsumiki, as carefree as him.

but where you’d usually be bursting with that outline of negativity, it’s dim. barely a shield on your core—one you worked at to keep you safe.

and where you’d usually be reinforcing yourself, building up those barriers to keep anyone out, it’s empty.

satoru doesn’t look at anything like regular people do. he can see the dim of your skin, the sheen of sweat because you have a fever. he knows that your hair is tangled, that your face is scratched up, that you’re going to have another scar on your stomach.

but he doesn’t care about that. he never has.

he cares about the lack of feedback coming from his eyes, he cares that his technique has nothing to bypass.

satoru walks into the room, not minding the dark, but hating the feeling in the air. he really doesn’t like being alone.

it’s fine, though. its always fine.

(he wishes that megumi and tsumiki were here with him. they wouldn’t dwell in the doorway. tsumiki would sit right next to you and hold your hand and megumi would bring you things from home. if someone was going to cry, it would be them. and they could fill that empty space next to him. and they both would talk, even if there wasn’t an answer.

and he wouldn’t be alone).

still, he walks forward. he watches your body and waits until your chest rises, then falls, to keep going. just to be sure that it’s all fine.

because it is.

“still asleep?” he whispers, trying to fill his voice with the same disinterest, the same nonchalance that he would if you were awake.

and there’s no response. not that he was expecting one, really.

he sits down, and satoru knows that he should hold your hand—but he doesn’t. he can’t let his guard down now. he’s sure that the curses are watching, waiting for him to give something up.

“nanami is watching the kids,” he tells you, because you’d want to know. “so they’re fine. tsumiki wanted to get you flowers but i—“ he stops.

this is ridiculous. it’s stupid to talk to you like you’re there. like you can hear him.

i wanted to get here as soon as possible.

and because there’s nothing he can say, he takes off his blindfold. he looks at you with his own eyes, for just a moment.

you look the same—just asleep. if you were awake you would be scolding him, reminding him that he has to get the kids places and pack their lunches.

it’s only been five hours since you got here.

it’s just a nap, satoru rationalizes. shoko will be here tomorrow.

still he wants you to wake up more than anything. he wants to hear your voice, to say something stupid and make you laugh.

he wants to tell you the truth of it all, to finally admit that he cares, that he’s scared.

but satoru knows that he wouldn’t say that, even if you were up.

“you can’t lay here forever,” he whispers, in the dark. “megumi’s got a test he needs your help studying for. and who’s going to do ‘miki’s hair?”

satoru shakes his head, looking to your face for a response.

there is none.

and he might be afraid, he might be completely fine and still absolutely terrified—but suddenly he’s angry.

he’s angry with yaga for letting you go alone, for not sending him instead. he’s angry with himself for not realizing that you would need help. and he’s angry with you because you’re just as strong as him.

because you’re stronger. you might have less cursed energy, but you’re stronger than him—and you could do this so much easier than he can. you could talk to him while he was asleep and you’d probably be able to wake him up. and you’d soothe the kids and make the time to get the goddamn flowers.

“why did you do that?” he asks you, leaning closer. “are you an idiot? you know how to take care of yourself. you know how to block a technique, how to protect yourself. you—you know how to—“

satoru reminds himself that he’s fine. he’s been here before.

it’s the same every time, anyway. it’s loneliness and despair and waiting for the inevitable—for the curse to take over.

he’s been here before.

“are you crying?”

satoru’s head snaps to the side and he blinks at you. his eyes are wide, his face still burning with anger, and his hands moving recklessly across his legs, unable to be still.

you cough, looking around. “it’s rude to call the person in the hospital bed an idiot, you know?”

and the energy flashes around you for a moment, like you’re testing something. and it’s weaker than usual—softer—but it’s enough.

it’s fine.

satoru doesn’t answer you, only stares.

you look around again, blinking like you’re confused. “where are the kids?”

“with kento.”

you nod, reaching for his hand that he’s put uselessly on your bed. “that’s good. megumi hates hospitals.”

satoru swallows. “he hates crying people.”

you snort at him, squeezing his hand. “yeah. wouldn’t want him around you right now. that would be bad.”

and finally, his mouth twitches and he leans in closer. “i’m not crying.”

“well that’s rude,” you say, “i could’ve died, you know.”

[bucksboobs]

.

[ibrithir-was-here]

Some random Toddler Dream doodles for ya’ll

[mars-paws]

.(

[h-didanart]

Heeeeeyyyyyy guyssssssssss

So~

Do any of you wanna hear about the ✨”fun”✨ new concept I have for an au?

It’s Bloodmoon centered~

:)

[m0nsterteeth]

Not only is my therapist hella supportive of my weird ass goal in therapy to learn shapeshifting (in whatever ways are feesable but especially in dreams) and is cool with all the negative thoughts being a monster comes with (daydreaming about hurting and eating people as a monster doesn’t make me a bad person), but they are roping in a literal shaman to help me out. That’s only part of the reason why, I’m also plagued with sleep hallucinations that are distressing (these are unaffected by my antipsychotics directly as it isn’t psychosis so I’m not gonna request med changes). That is probably the more pressing matter for them but I will be sure to tie it back to my desperate need to be a monster. I need to figure out how to satisfy this need for my mental wellbeing. I want it so bad I have literally offered my soul to entities I perceive as real and evil, hell I do it completely unprompted at times. The fact that I believe it is real and do potentially dangerous things is alarming to me when awake and have my wits about me. It’s essentially like I am drunk and wandering up to random people with a weird request. Some have gently told me they can’t do that, some are rude and tell me horrible things about me and why I don’t deserve to be happy.

Part of this is being billed to my insurance company, which is funny to me, do have to pay the shaman but my therapist is so cool they are not charging me for their time even though it is over the hour limit. They are helping me out because they care/worry about me and it is very nice to feel supported.

[southerndragontamer]

Egotober Day 13: Mirror

What did it mean to be a mirror of someone? So alike, but so different at the same time. That was the question that ran through Roman’s mind as he sat in bed and sketched out a moment from the DND campaign Thomas was doing with his friend Terrence. It was such a creative game that he couldn’t resist.

His room, or rather their room, the room of Creativity was one that Thomas hadn’t visited yet. Being it was split between himself and Remus it was….interesting to say the least.

Half of it was a bedroom/study that looked like it belonged in a castle. Four poster bed, many comfortable pillows and blankets in gold and red with cream accents. Disney merchandise along shelves, a bookshelf, window with a nook overlooking the forest and a desk with paint and ink marks all over it. Roman wasn’t as methodical as Logan about his neatness, at least all the time. His art supplies were in a system only he recognized, but the room was neat enough you saw the floor and he kept his bed made and clothes clean.

Remus’ half….not so much. His rose red eyes looked over to where his twin was on his stomach, kicking his legs as he was likewise occupied with his own sketchbook. In shades of black and green with silver accents, his room was a full on mess that would make the clean minded all faint on sight. Clothes piled everywhere, bedding in disarray and the only reason the prince didn’t need a gas mask was because Imagination filtered it out. There was horror merchandise on shelves, a bookshelf with dog eared, torn books, a scuffed mess covered desk and the broken window overlooked a darker forest.

But there was something that was a familiar sight to him. Art supplies in a system almost the same as his, even if they were more covered in dried paint than his own.

The Duke’s poisonous green eyes looked up, his mustache quirked as he grinned mischievously at the Prince. He propped his cheek on his hand. “What’s that look for brother dearest? Oh no, you’ve been thinking haven’t you? I smell the smoke from here.”

Roman rolled his eyes and despite himself a smile tugged at his lips as he watched Remus wave a hand around in faux disgust. He scoffed to hide a chuckle.

“Ha-Ha very funny Remus. Yes, I have been thinking. About how we’re a mirror of each other, we’re so alike…yet so different.”

Remus hummed softly and he rolled over onto his back and wriggled up to set his head in Roman’s lap.

“It’s not that big a shock, if you want I can take you to meet Mary. She can give you quite the shock, that girl is something else! And maybe try to bite your lips off, but I can smack her with the morning star and she’ll know you’re not food. We went to this great bar for drinks-“

He pinched the bridge of his nose in the way of exasperated siblings everywhere and he cut off his twin’s ramble quickly but gently as he began to idly stroke Remus’ hair.

“I mean it’s just a bit confusing since we weren’t always twins. I did compare you to looking in a funhouse mirror before.”

Remus let out a content hum at the affection before he responded voice soft for once.

“It’s not really that far from the truth Roman. We may have been Creativity in full once, but when we had to we split. I was a bit more like you when Thomas was younger…but as time passed he saw two different kinds of creativity. I got most of my power from when he was a teenager. You know that time where everyone is stupid, gross, into the dark and taboo.”

“And that’s where the Intrusive Thought part of you began to manifest and where my Passion did as well.”

Roman finished for him in a similar soft tone. He sighed and twisted s bit, so he could curl around Remus and set his head on his stomach. He smiled as he felt their hands subconsciously join and Remus squeezed softly. They both knew that the prince only thought like this due to how he wanted to ignore his mental crisis of everything not really being as black and white as he’d thought, that had reared it’s head when Janus properly introduced himself and challenged everything he thought he understood.

Virgil had helped as much as he could, and he had tried bless his anxious heart, but it still wasn’t that simple for Roman to confront that part of himself yet. He knew he would soon enough, and when he did he’d have not just the others beside him, but his twin as well. Because they were each other’s mirror, where one went so did the other.

[wildevenusian]

i just don’t understand. why say ur ready to talk if you aren’t?

can u believe this post is what got me to reach tag limit

[wh0reforthemarauders]

Remus Lupin x Reader

“A Late Night Confession”

mostly hurt/comfort/angst. making out with mentions of wanting something more.

Notes: It’s 3am and I’m really hungry and tired but can’t sleep. I haven’t proofread this and English is not my first language but I just had to get this out before going to sleep. Be kind, any suggestions and corrections are more than welcome i love you all

It was 9pm on a Wednesday evening. You and Remus are were a middle of a hot and heavy make out session on your couch.

You finally made it. You managed to convince your boyfriend to come over to your place and hopefully spend the night. For the past two months you two have only been going out on dates like coffee shops, art galleries, and sometimes even being so bold as to catch a movie in the cinema. But you were now ready to take the next step as your body has been aching for this kind of closeness for a few weeks already. You were hoping to finally sleep with Remus for the first time.

As the sound of your sloppy kisses filled the quiet dark room of the apartment you were renting, you slowly slid your hands under your man’s shirt, caressing his body underneath. You slowly moved your hands back towards his shirt and started to slowly lift it up in order to take it off. You wanted remus, you wanted to feel his soft skin, to touch him all over, to be close to him, to be with him.

But then suddenly he broke the kiss and took your hands in his and slowly pulled them down, holding them firmly in his bigger, calloused ones. You immediately felt something heavy drop in your stomach. He was staring down, avoiding eye contact, as if afraid to meet your now worried gaze. You realized something was wrong, and you hoped you didn’t unknowingly do something hurtful or in some way triggering because you really cared about Remus.

Then he finally broke the silence:

“Y/N… There’s something you should know… About me…”

You were now actually worried but you were sure there couldn’t be a thing in the world that could make you stop loving him and so you cupped his face with your hands determined to reassure him, whatever it was in question.

“I really don’t know how to say this without completely scaring you off… It’s just that… you mean so much to me…”

“It’s ok baby you can tell me anything” you say in a gentle whisper, pressing your forehead onto his. “I love you no mater what”

This seemed to throw him off a bit. You were almost sure you heard him forming a smirk but you couldn’t see his face well in the dark. Neither of you have mentioned the L word until now. A part of you wondered it the timing was right, but it was how you sincerely felt about him for quite some time now, and at that moment you didn’t even care whether he’d say it back or not.

And he didn’t.

“Don’t say that. Please… You don’t know me…”

“The let me get to know you” you said, eager to help him get whatever he had to off his chest. “You can tell me anything, I really mean that.”

“I… I’m a werewolf.”

There was a moment of silence. He supposed you’d need some time to process this information, but once he said it out loud the subsequent silence seemed so much scarier than what he had imagined, especially in contrast with the heaviness of his words.

You were startled by this confession, but not scared in the least. You learned about werewolves at Hogwarts, but you never met one. You knew they were only these scary creatures at night, when it’s full moon and you couldn’t comprehend why Remus seemed to think that would be a dealbreaker in your relationship, let alone on a night like this when full moon was still days away.

While these thoughts were racing in your head, and you were trying to think of the appropriate answer to show him that his condition doesn’t change your feelings toward him, the silence was too much for Remus to bare. He pulled back, kissed you on the forehead, took his coat and walked towards your apartment door looking sulky and sad.

“I better leave.” he said, his voice breaking from anxiety, tension and shame he felt.

A street light coming through the window was shining on his face and when you looked up at him you could see he was on the verge of tears.

Before you could say anything he opened the door and left, leaving you to yourself.

You fell asleep late that night. You couldn’t stop thinking about Remus and why he would leave so abruptly over something like that. Was he gonna call you again? Were you supposed to reach out to him? The truth is, you were somewhat annoyed with his behavior, because you felt like he was being too dramatic, and you didn’t like him doubting you after two months of you being in a committed relationship and you never giving him reason to doubt you. But you also felt the need to let him know that you’d be there for him no matter what and make him feel loved and accepted.

[spacemancharisma]

hello. please add the community label for sexual themes to this post https://at.tumblr.com/adult-cool/703815114825007104/3q9g80hzplo4 to let any of ace fans of this podcast to blur or to filter this post out. it may be drawn well, but looking at it is very uncomfortable if you don't enjoy the thoughts of hurting this character this way. thank you.

oh shit you’re so right- my apologies, I forgot community labels are a thing now. if it’s also beneficial, blocking the tag “nsft” is a way to filter nsfw content without the op being removed from the tags. but yes, thank you, I will do that right away.

[whimsyprinx]

my desire to make more dnd characters vs the fact that I’m in no campaigns and don’t know when or if I’ll be in a campaign are fighting

[brainticklr69]

no because my stomach hurt so bad i not only had to get naked but i had to get on my hands and knees on the bathroom floor and bow and just hope to god whatever is out there had mercy or pity on me. like the most desperate “hey god it’s me-“ i’m shaken to my core. knowing the human body can feel like this has changed my perception of the human experience. what’s the point of going on when Chinese food can make you hurt so bad. i don’t know how i’ll ever return to the life of the normal people after this. how will i relate to them. it hasn’t left me yet- this battle still has to be fought but the great enemy that is stomach cramping has given me this opportunity to seek comfort. i must return.

[dreamofbecoming]

finally watched s3 and i think it’s very funny how jaskier and yennefer both came to see geralt on what was essentially his deathbed and immediately sat down and started crying like “oh my god babe i had the worst day you will not beLIEVE-”

[geekyanglophile]

God dammit… I’m gonna have to start reading Good Omens fanfiction again

[deus-ex-mona]

it’s the 20th of december, so…

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Me, age seven: Energetic but bored only child who constantly asked for their parents to adopt one of the kids in those “find me a home” news specials. Begged on their hands and knees to go to public school so they could meet people their age and get acclimated to society.

Me, age twenty: Apathetic, jaded adult who views any amount of communication as excruciatingly laborious. Is either indifferent or hateful to most people their age. Wants to wander off into a forest so they can die alone in some remote tar pit.