#i have been having a bad brain week this week so i am coping with domestic shmoop and also letting kitali get to be petty

[seniasworld]

It's Been Three Weeks ...

(this post is simply to get my own thoughts and feelings regarding Liam Payne's death out. skip if ya don't care. <3)

It's been three weeks since Liam Payne has passed, and I am still having a hard time wrapping my brain around it. I am an old Directioner, as I discovered the boys and their music when I was about 14 or 15 and I adored them up until Zayn left the band. I remember being so shy about the fact that I, a teenage girl, was influenced to adore these 5 boys who were also teenagers at the time. Thankfully, I realized that it isn't a bad thing to find some sort of comfort in strangers, and no, I was not part of the group who failed to respect their privacy and boundaries as fellow human beans. I loved them dearly and unfortunately, cut that shit off once I had bigger life things to worry about.

About three months before the news of Liam's death, I had finally committed to deleting thousands ...thousands of memes and pictures that came with being a Directioner during their prime. I had so many photos that I hadn't even looked at in years taking up space in my drive and I had do either pay for more digital storage (lmfaooo yeah right) or delete things I didn't need anymore, so that's what I did. Oddly enough, it was kind of a relief to get rid of 99% of those images, as I really felt it was a nice way to reconnect with that part of my life without shame or guilt, but appreciation and love.

However, I received the news of his death from the only Directioner friend I stayed in touch with all these years. The same friend I stayed up all night with, talking about the boys, waiting for songs to release, crying on Skype together when the wind slightly shifted in our little world. The only friend who I committed to meeting in person multiple times throughout our lives. She sent me a news clip on TikTok and girl, when I tell you my hear sank ...shit was SUNK. I didn't want to believe it, so I didn't. I was in such a great state of denial and shock that I couldn't even find it in myself to have empathy. All I wanted to do was prove that it was some misinformation or some stupid prank. I guess that's one way to cope, right?

Anyway, the teenage girl in me was devastated. I instantly recalled certain posts that were made either on here or on Twitter back in the 1D days that talked so much about how we would miss these days and they would pass us by so quickly and before we knew it, we would be grieving the loss of one of our boys after going so long without being so obsessively invested in their lives. I couldn't believe that we were losing one of them so soon. I couldn't stand the fact that I felt guilty for not being more invested than I have been in each of their music careers, even though I shouldn't. Really, I was just surprised at the fact that an influential part of my childhood ...or rather, teenage years, was just gone and it took his passing for me to realize the impact they all had.

I considered myself a Harry girl, and iykyk, us girlies were in the trenches, but my point with this is that I still loved all the boys. I don't know if I can truly express it, but watching their interviews, performances, vlogs, interacting with them on Twitter even though I was lost in the sea of fans, even just listening to their voices in their music was comforting. I appreciated so much that these boys were told from the very beginning that they wouldn't be successful and then they just blew it out the water. I appreciated so much that even though they were put together as a last resort and even lost X-Factor, who they were as people was what caught our attention as fans. For me, they were a safe space. For a lot of us, they were physical evidence that creative, funny, and compassionate people exist and that they can be boys/men. For a lot of us, they were simply all we had to get through each day.

I'm not going to sit here and pretend that some of the news that surrounds Liam was always positive. In fact, I was kind of mad at him for my own reasons for a bit before he passed. But the fact is, his presence in the band was crucial and so heavily valued that you didn't even have to be a 1D fan for his death to impact you in some way. His voice was beautiful and the way he carried himself compared to the other boys, especially when they were younger, was unique and powerful. I am so sorry that this has happened to him and I am so hurt for those in his life who actually knew him and loved him personally. I wish it didn't take death for people to realize that compassion, patience, and accountability go so fucking far no matter who you are and what you do. I wish he was in a different situation that would have never allowed for him to go the way he did.

I want to remind you, if you are still reading this, to understand that mental health takes a huge toll and informs our thoughts and behavior. Addiction is indicative of one's inability to face themselves. And let me ask you: how many people do you think you are wiling to face when you struggle to face yourself?

We must be kind to others, but more importantly, we must be kind to ourselves. It's okay to make mistakes. Mistakes do not make you a bad person, and holding yourself and the ones you love accountable IS an act of love that will benefit the world around you.

I think this is all I have on the matter, for now. I am still quite sad, as I have experienced personal losses this year alone, so my heart goes out to those who have also been effected by Liam's unexpected passing.

If you ever want to chat or share any thoughts, follow and shoot me a message. I'll be around.

Goodnight. x

Yesenia

[lilbittymonster]

Day 18: Hackneyed

Read on AO3

Aymeric was on the couch reading when Kitali finally emerged from the bath, still squeezing water from her hair.

“You have a letter,” he said, nodding to the sealed envelope on the side table. “It arrived a couple days ago.”

“Who’s it from?”

“No idea. Some secret admirer, by the looks of it.”

She scoffed, and then made a noise of disgust when she held up the letter. Aymeric chuckled, knowing how the address of “Dearest Warrior of Light” with a dramatic heart beneath would be received. The snap of the wax seal being broken was followed by the sound of papers shuffling against each other.

“Four pages,” she said. “Front and back.”

He looked up from his book to see her holding the letter as though it were a rotten head of chyshal greens. The curl of her lip did not lessen as she read first one page, then the back, then the second, before at last she rolled her eyes and marched across the room to throw the whole bundle into the fire with a shower of sparks.

Aymeric nearly choked on the mouthful of tea he had just taken.

“That bad, was it?”

She settled onto the couch, rubbing a hand across her eyes as she laid her head in his lap.

“Yeah, that bad. I don’t know why people keep sending me shit like that, it’s not as if it’s a secret we’re married.”

“What, you don’t think you can do better than a bastard from only a minor house?” he joked. “I’m sure you could if you tried.”

“But I don’t want to do better than a bastard from a minor house,” she said, looking up at him. “I want you.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest, as it always did when she looked at him like that. He leaned into the hand that she brought up to his cheek and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm.

“And what, pray tell, did your mystery admirer say to you to earn such a fiery rejection?”

Kitali sighed. “So. He started with an actual introduction.”

“Already better than the last one,” Aymeric remarked.

“Better than the last one,” she agreed. “Then the first page or so was spent extolling my many virtues-” she rolled her eyes mockingly- “half of which were exaggerated and the other half were entirely fabricated. Then he started making all sorts of assumptions about how I must surely be a ‘woman of the world’, whatever that’s supposed to mean, and how I would surely be in want of a partner who could match my sense of adventure. And then he suggested that I run away with him, at which point I threw it in the fire. I have no interest in reading what he thinks would happen on such an affair.”

“Hm. Not very original, I must say,” Aymeric hummed. “I think I have…...no less than three books on that shelf alone that follow the very same plot.”

Kitali chuckled.

“The whole thing read like a bad soup of every two gil romance book I’ve ever read. It was so-” She stopped, motioning searchingly in front of her. “What’s the word. There has to be a word.”

“Hackneyed,” Aymeric supplied. “Cliched. Trite.”

“Sure, one of those.” She sighed again. “I leave for a tenday and this is what I come home to.”

[the-trans-dragon]

Wow there sure are a lot of posts about [specific trigger I have] lately. I've unfollowed some people over it. Some have posted opinions I disagree with very strongly; some have posted opinions I do agree with. Either way it bothers me too much to see it. I don't want [specific trigger] mixed in with my Cat Photos And Memes App.

So if I've randomly unfollowed you recently, that is probably why.

[gaystardykeco]

not ready to go back to work tomorrow but luckily im so not ready that my brain isn't letting it fully process and so im just kind of numb except for little moments when the panic breaks through again

[phagodyke]

why does being at my parents make me feel so physically ill. theyre not even HERE.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[happyhauntt]

a grey day — spencer reid.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: spencer meets the newest member of the department.

─── pairing: spencer reid x autistic!medical examiner!reader.

─── warnings: fluff, reader is autistic & a mom, spencer's iq gets slashed to sixty when he talks to pretty girls and it's my favourite thing. no use of y/n. reader is performing an autopsy so mentions of blood but nothing too graphic.

─── word count: 1.3k.

     YOU KNOW IT'S A GREY DAY before you even manage to open your eyes.

     And really, you’re expecting it  ━  this whole week has been filled with pale pink and lime green with solid, unwavering turquoise blobs in the middle, because you started your new job on Monday and the apprehension, the excited, the nausea, they've all been stirring up inside you for days now.

     Waking up to a grey day doesn't hit you as hard as it usually would.

     Still, you feel sluggish when you drag yourself out of bed ten full minutes after your alarm has gone off. The shower is a no-go this morning  ━  if you’re honest with yourself, the shower is a no-go most mornings, when your skin feels soft and sensitive and your brain can't cope with the idea of a barrage of hot water raining down on you  ━  so you slap on some deodorant and spray some dry shampoo in your hair, tugging it up into a rough ponytail.

     You take your time with your makeup, though; strawberry lipgloss and lots of concealer, a heaping of eyeliner and your favourite gold hoop earrings are exactly what you need to feel better. When you step out into the hallway wearing your comfiest black jeans and a jumper that's probably smart enough to pass the dress code, hearing your daughter giggling in the kitchen, the grey day lightens a little.

     It gets even better when your sister-in-law presses a travel mug of iced coffee into your hands.

     "Jackie, I fucking adore you," you say around a mouthful of delicious, soul-quenching caffeinated goodness. You’d half-expected Jackie to have something planned. Four years of living together means that Jackie tends to know about your off days before you do.

     The other woman suppresses a smile, coupled with a sharp look. "There's a three-year-old right there!"

     You snort, waving your hand nonchalantly. As if you don't have this conversation every single day. "Nellie knows not to repeat what I say." You turn to your daughter, your heart swelling three sizes as the little girl at the kitchen table looks up from her drawing. "Nell, baby, what am I always telling you?"

     "Don't go home with strangers."

     "Well, yeah, but I meant the other thing."

     The little girl brightens, revealing a missing front tooth. "If Aunt Jackie won't say it, then I shouldn't say it."

      You giggle, scurrying over to drop a kiss on your daughter's forehead. "Exactly right, my little love."

     When you turn back toward the kitchen counter, your sister-in-law's face is painted with an affronted look, her mouth half-open. "I can say bad words!"

      You wrinkle your nose. "I'll believe that when I see it."

     By the time you leave the house, sliding into your car with a second cup of iced coffee in hand, the day has lightened to a pale blue. You hope it will stay that way.

     "YOU LOOK SO TIRED, DUDE."

     Well, alright, he'll admit it wasn't the first thing he was expecting to hear when he entered the coroner's office. It's been a while since he ventured down to the morgue, sure, but Dr. Peterson has never talked to him like that before, and he's fairly certain not that much has changed in the three-or-so weeks it's been.

     And Spencer's observant. He prides himself on being able to notice things, tiny details other people seem to miss, things that are so obvious to him that he can't comprehend how normal people can't see them.

     So if anyone asks, he'll never admit that it took a full twelve seconds before he realised that the girl in the white lab coat, elbow-deep in an open chest cavity, is definitely not Dr. Peterson.

     "Uh..."

     It's the most intelligent response he can muster in the moment.

     "It's okay," you add, hardly bothering to look up from the corpse. "I'm tired too. And you're not the worst-looking guy in the room." You jerk your head at the dead guy on the table. "Although I'd say that's a pretty low bar, all things considered."

     "Where's Dr. Peterson?"

     "He retired. Or got a promotion, I think? Not totally sure." You shrug, raising an eyebrow at him. "I thought I'd met most of the department already, but I don't recognise you.” You tell him your name, squinting at him through your plastic glasses.”I’m the new... coroner, medical examiner, pathologist, dancing monkey? They didn't totally specify the position when they offered it, which I think says more about me than anything else."

     Spencer blinks. He's not totally sure he's ever met anyone who could talk nearly as fast as him before. "Dr. Spencer Reid, Behavioral Analysis Unit. Nice to meet you."

     "Oh, cool!" The liver in your hands gives a wet squelch as you drop it into a metal dish. "I'm under the BAU! I answer to your Section Chief, um, Agent Strauss? She's a little harsh, huh? I'd, uh, shake your hand, but..." You hold both hands up, mimicking a surrender, showing off the blue medical gloves slick with blood.

     An inkling of a smile creeps onto Spencer's face. "I don't shake hands."

     "That's fair," you say with a shrug. "Can I help you, Dr. Reid, or did you get lost looking for the cafeteria?"

     “No, actually.” He remembers the files he was supposed to show you and reaches into his satchel. The intensity of your gaze is like lasers on his skin and he can’t help but fumble, almost sending a stack of documents scattering across the floor.

     When he looks back up at you, cheeks flushed rosy, your stare hasn’t wavered even slightly. Amusement lingers in your eyes.

     He clears his throat and holds out the files as if they are a peace offering. He doesn’t quite understand whether a battle has been fought, but he definitely feels like he lost one. “Hotch— uh, Agent Hotchner sent the Howard County ME’s report on the Richardson case. He wanted you to look it over and sign off before they file it for the District Attorney.”

     You nod at him. The corner of your mouth quirks a little at his stuttering. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so immediately endeared to somebody before, but there he is, blinking at you like a deer caught in headlights. It’s so adorable.

     “Sure, I can do that,” you say. “Just pop it on the desk over there and I’ll get on with it when I’m done here. Can’t get any bodily fluids on the paperwork, y’know? That’d be a nightmare.”

     The volume of your laugh startles him, and he jerks slightly. The sound of it is loud and warm and it should really freak him out, considering you’re wrist-deep in a cadaver and cackling like a maniac, but it doesn’t. It’s actually kind of sweet.

     “If that’s all, Dr, Reid, I’d like to finish rooting through this guy’s insides so I can sew him back up.” Your words are an obvious dismissal, but he doesn’t feel offended, not with the kind smile still adorning your features.

     He nods and backs away. His feet feel a little numb. “Sure thing. I’ll, uh, catch you later. Have fun!”

     “I’m sure I will.”

     You sound like you’re about to laugh again. Have fun, really? He knows he’s fairly inept when it comes to women, but have fun? He scurries out of the morgue and back into the land of the living, and as Spencer boards the elevator all he can think is that he’s so glad Derek wasn’t there to witness that.

     He’s certain he’d never live it down.

     Meanwhile you resume your autopsy with an odd, fuzzy feeling in your chest. You start to hum beneath your breath, a song that must have played on the radio while you were driving to work.

     Your grey day feels a little pink at the edges.

[mxnhoo]

mwah! (k. sn)

ˋ "just bored, nothing else" ࿐ྂ ⁀➷ kim sunoo x reader genre : bro is your bestfriend, bestfriends to lovers (kinda..), inspired by that one sunoo live LOL, not proofread, kiss kiss kiss w/c : ~2.1k cly's note : finally back with something! god guys i'm so fucking sorry for being so inactive. i know i promised that i'd release my hyunjin fic very soon but i just had to write something else to get me back to writing altogether yknow? i hope you guys like this one, im insanely rusty and my kissing scenes are NAWT IT, but regardless hope ya'll enjoy it. wrote this all in one sitting, my ass hurts, if you enjoyed it, please do reblog like and comment! ANYWAYS GN.

border isn't made by me, credits to cafekitsune

The doorbell rang and you raised your eyebrows, looking at everything in sight as you patiently wait for the door to swing open. And it does after a while, and your bestfriend was heavily panting, his posture slightly slouched as he processed that you were here. "You're.. here," he managed to voice out through his heavy panting and you give him a small smile while your eyes lit up at him, "I am".

"Come in, kept you waitin', sorry," he spoke in short sentences, his voice still breathless as he stepped aside from the door, making space for you to walk in and you nod, stepping foot into his house and now being hit with the unfamiliar scent of his apartment. His new apartment. Sunoo had recently moved, and he invited you over because he wanted to show you around his house, catch up with you, y'know, stuff like that.

He was your best friend for a while, a few years, and as much as you admire him as a friend, you also wanted him real bad. Like reeal bad. He has stolen your heart since the first time you saw it and the boy's completely clueless about it, everything he does to you leaving you to question if he did it on purpose to hint something or if he was just being clueless.

He'd always invited you over to his house to hang, play games, stuff like that, but with him moving and his academic workload accumulating, he had been busy and had lesser time to see you, and today was finally the day you could see him after a few weeks. You glanced at the boy who watched you walk in and took the opportunity to ruffle his golden hair, voicing out a "How have you been?".

He smiles at you and slowly closes the front door behind you and locking it. "Good, just been a bit stressful lately, 'bout you?". You turned back to the sight of his new apartment, the same paintings that were hung on a different wall and old furniture that blended in with some new furniture you've never seen before.

"Great. Seems like you've finished moving in, how's it like so far?" you question, walking in more towards the living room, now setting yourself on the couch and looking at the light that was hanging above you.

"Been amazing so far! It gets tough without mama sometimes, but I can cope," he follows you but stands in front of you instead of sitting himself down, "Could I get you anything? Apple juice, orange, water". He remains silent before continuing, "Probably an apple juice right? Your favourite."

Your gaze fixates on him from the hanging lights, the image of him in your brain being refreshed as you took view of his facial features, his blonde hair slightly messy and his lips looking plump and kissable as ever. His lips slightly agape as he eventually started to catch his breath and his eyes looking down on you. You gulp at this sight of him, you almost forgot how beautiful looked and before you could go into a daze about how attractive he looked, you slowly nodded your head, a small smile forming on your face as he recalled your favourite joke, even if it was normal for best friends to remember these types of things.

"Okay, gotcha." was the last thing he said before walking towards his refrigerator. Your eyes followed his every move, the way he opened the refrigerator door, the way he pulled out a carton and closing the refrigerator before pouring the drink into a glass up that was conveniently placed on the counter near him. Your eyes lingered onto the magnets on his refrigerator when he closed it, recognising a photo that was nicely placed in the centre with 2 magnets at opposite corners.

"You still have that?" you pointed at the photo, and Sunoo turned his head over his shoulder, glancing at you before following where you were pointing to, and his eyes land on the photo. The corners of his mouth curl up before he placed the carton down, "Yeah, why wouldn't I?".

It was a photo of you and him in a party, sitting on a couch while posing with peace signs on both hands. It was when you two had first met when people had introduced you to each other or when you practically begged people to introduce you to him . The way you two clicked so fast is quite scary, and from then on you two were quite inseperable.

"I just think it's surprising," you reply, "Out of all the photos we have, you decide to put that one, y'know?".

"It's a special day," he instantly replies, turning his back with a cup of apple juice in his hand. He made his way to you and you raise your eyebrows at his response, "Special?". Your heart fluttered at the thought of him considering a day with you special, and you almost gave it away by putting the most stupid smile on your face, but it took every ounce of self-control inside you not to do so.

"It is the day we met after all," he sat beside you, offering you the cup of apple juice that you had requested. Your eyes slightly widened, and a small smile creeping onto your face as you register what he said. You hastily took the cup into your hand, "You care about those types of things? Like, first days, first meetings, stuff like that?". Everytime you meet him, he always seems to surprise you with something new with no fail, and that's one part you like so much about him.

He hummed, his approving sound accompanied with a small nod and you took a sip of the apple juice. The sweetness immediately hit your taste bud and you quickly swallowed, voicing out a quick 'Ahh' after the refreshing sip. Your eyes look at him and you realise he was already looking at you and it made your heart skip a beat.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" you chuckled, lowering the cup from your face as you flash him a grin. He quickly looked away, a faint smile on his face, "Just missed you".

There he goes again, saying things like that. Is he doing that with a purpose? Like to flirt with you, or is the boy just being genuine? Clueless?

You choked on your drink, his response being the last thing you expected and you shot him a bewildered look. He laughs at you choking, probably enjoying how he managed to get a reaction out of you and you glared at him.

"Are you just teasing me or what?" you questioned, placing your glass cup on the small coffee table in frornt of you.

"I am," he giggled, "I'm kinda bored so it's quite funny to tease you".

Oh yeah?

"Hey," you call out to him, your tone suddenly serious and his laughs die down, his eyes slowly moving to you "I'm bored too".

His eyebrows raised, feeling confused as to where this was going.

"Since we're bored, should we kiss?"

He chokes on the air, his hand flying to his mouth as he looked away from you. You gently patted his back as if you weren't the one who just dropped a 'let's-kiss' bomb on him, a smirk forming on your lips. Once he stopped coughing, he looked back at you, his cheeks a bright tint of pink and his eyes slightly widened, "W-what did you say?".

You looked at him with an amused expression, "I said, let's kiss." You honestly have no idea where this ounce of confidence came from, but if he wanna tease you, he can only get the taste of his own medicine right?

He started to stutter, his gaze being everywhere but on you as he started to scratch his neck, the way he was so flustered being so painfully obvious as you chuckle.

"I'm just kidding," you said. As much as you wanted to kiss him, your intentions were only to tease him back. Upon hearing you, his eyes shot to you, his eyes showing that he was slightly disappointed, "Why?".

"What do you mean?" you questioned. "Why were you 'just kidding'?" "What, do you want an actual kiss or something?" "Yeah.. Yeah, I do."

Now it was your turn to be flustered. You looked at him with widened eyes, your jaw quite literally dropping as you stared at him, taking a moment to process his reply. Sunoo wanted a kiss? And he just openly admitted it?

"Sunoo, quit the teasing, it's not funny at this point." "Who says I'm teasing? I'm being serious, Y/N".

Fucking hell, no fucking way Sunoo admitted that he wanted to kiss you. "O-okay wait, so you're serious about wanting a kiss from me, right?" you questioned, wanting confirmation and that you weren't just dreaming.

"Yes, I want a kiss from you, a kiss from your lips Y/N".

You blink at him repetitively before unconsciously standing up to your feet from the couch, your eyes still fixated on him.

"This feels so wrong," you nervously bit your lip and he sat up and reached out to gently hold your wrist, slightly pulling you towards him, "It isn't, don't worry".

"Do you really want this, Nu?" you spat out, suddenly feeling doubtful about everything and anxiety grew inside you. He gently tugged at your arm, causing you to look at him and he replied, "Been wanting this since forever".

If you said that your heart wasn't going to explode, you'd be lying. Your breathing rate picked up as your chest rises up and down hastily, and your gaze fall on his lips that were slightly parted. You looked back up at his eyes and you immediately notice his eyes on your lips. Your free hand cups his cheek, and you quickly voice out "Me too, Nu" before leaning in and closing the distance between the two of you.

His hand immediately released your wrist, his hands immediately finding comfort on your waist as he pulled you closer. The kiss was slow, passionate as both of your mouths moved in the same rhythm. You could feel him smile during the kiss and you slightly tilt his head to help you get more access to his mouth. Butterflies filled your stomach as you finally process that you were kissing your bestfriend, you were kissing Sunoo. The kiss was so passionate, and it was now evident that you two have been dying for this moment. The longing for each other added fuel to the fire, and your hands gradually make way to his hair, lightly pulling on it.

The surroundings around the two of you slowly start to seem non-existent as you both increasingly melt into each other. At this point of time, only you and Sunoo mattered, nothing else. He nibbled on your bottom lip, causing you to gasp and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, exploring your mouth as much as he can. Both of your tongues fought a fiery battle for dominance, and to no surprise, he won. The kiss was becoming so heated and intense, and before things could escalate, your hands quickly trail down to his chest and you slightly push him backwards, pulling away from the kiss.

Both of your chests rise up rapidly as your foreheads rest on each other. Eye contact was maintained as you both looked into each other's eyes. "Did.. did that just happen?" you question, still trying to catch your breath as you remain in shock as to what just happened.

"Fuck yeah, been wanting that for so long you don't even know," he confessed. A smirk forms on his lips as his eyes quickly flicker to your lips then back to your eyes. You chuckle as you close your eyes, your head leaning on him even more.

You pull away completely to sit on the spot beside him on the couch, your eyes still on him and you shook your head, "How long exactly?"

"Since I first met you." he responded, his answer once again never failing to surprise you.

"Mutual feeling then," you confessed, your breathing slowing down as you finally manage to catch your breath. He seemed shocked by the fact, but he definitely wasn't complaining.

"Since you care about first's so much, then consider that our first kiss, yeah?" you chuckled. "Sure thing, just know it won't be our last."

[bunkerjking]

The emotional breakdown later in the chapter will get most of the attention, but for my money, this is the most revealing moment in this week's chapter. A teenager so disconnected from his real emotions that he desperately rationalizes his hypersexuality not as a coping mechanism, but as 'this is what guys are like.'

It's easy to make fun of men for burying their emotions and then asking, 'why doesn't anyone know who I really am' - hell, Denji literally does that during the Bomb Girl arc - but Denji is a pretty direct criticism of both the way boys can get forced into unhealthy gender roles, and the way men self-regulate themselves and others into them.

The other boys Denji is with don't have the problem of being horny at inappropriate times. They have WAY bigger problems.

But Denji can't think properly when someone dangles the idea of sex in front of him. It's like a switch flips and he becomes a completely different person.

He shuts down and reverts to trying to embody masculine stereotypes he's been ingrained with, both through the social conditioning of growing up male in the 90s and the psychological conditioning Makima put him through to strengthen 'Chainsaw Man' - itself a hyper-masculine ideal that a human being physically cannot measure up to - and emotionally cripple Denji.

Denji is at his happiest when he's at rest with the people he loves. Power and Aki were not always easy to be around, but they loved him back and they wanted him to be happy. Nayuta is a child who doesn't understand her place in the world - how could she - but she earnestly wants to help her big brother as best as she can.

He isn't some cock-swinging alpha badass constantly on the prowl to crush puss, but for a lot of people - especially a teenager who was groomed to be an expendable child soldier - this unhealthy masculine 'ideal' isn't just something to live up to, it's the expected norm for men to be.

Being Chainsaw Man doesn't make Denji mentally stronger. As shown in the Falling Devil fight, he literally chops up his brain with his chainsaws to avoid confronting his trauma. Whenever he has to think about what he's lost and what's still left to lose, he runs toward something he isn't and away from a 'normal,' healthy response to the issues at hand.

"You stupid boy."

You'll notice that Katana Man, a perfect embodiment of an overly masculine dickhead, a misogynistic moron who refuses to grow in character or even basic combat skills, is totally on board for throwing Denji in a brothel and letting what happens happens. Katana Man perfectly represents the bad ending where 'traditional masculinity' wins the war for Denji's soul.

Denji needs help. Not some quick gratification. Not a meal and a nut and a nap. He needs genuine help, and a better male role model than the ones he's got. Even Kishibe, the only adult in his life other than Aki who actually did more good than harm, is an alcoholic recluse.

God help the boy.

[etheries1015]

Adult (20+) MC finally figures out how to properly make money, BESIDES working for Azul. Become not only the prefect and be a student, but an on the call designated therapist!

"Crowley, really. I'm far older than the other students, it is not my fault the mirror has brought you a full grown adult rather than another proper student! I finished all of my schooling where I am from, I do not wish to repeat it along side these....kids!" You had complained to him. Well, what was he to do? The mirror had obviously chosen you to be at that school, you had no other merits at the time to offer him, and to simply put it...without a way to go home, what else could possibly occupy your time in a world in which you know nothing about, than gather intel by throwing yourself into the most prestigious of schools? The answer seemed obvious at the time, until you realized just how bad it was.

Teenagers are still teenagers, after all. Especially a bunch of teenage boys surrounded by...well... Other teenage boys. Magic or not, they were still going through any other mental struggles as any normal human. However, putting magic into the mix had surely caused you some...extra unprecedented grief you had never needed to worry about in your world. After what, three? Four? Overblots and life endagerment exibitions, you had an epiphany. With extensive knowledge of the human brain system, life experience, and a plothera of coping mechanisms under your belt, what better way to open the door than to become none other than the designated student body therapist?

With some rather convincing techniques, you had managed to convince Crowley to, as you put it...

"Let me take this off of your plate! You are so busy being such an amazing head master running this school as perfectly as you are, I understand the durasic increase of overblots have your hands tied behind your back! As you know, I am an adult with ample experience in the field of mental health. Although I don't have the documents to prove it as much at this time seeing as they are back in my world....I just know you will not regret hiring me as a therapist."

A few more convincing lines (and perhaps a week of pestering, begging, manipulating-- I mean convincing , he had eventually hired you as the school therapist! With, of course, the expectation that you had to take an additional class to further certify you were able to properly do such a job. (You were kind of mad a bout that, seeing as you knew you were qualified, but hey. Pick and choose your battles I guess. At least you managed to get by with a couple additional classes, instead of a million years of schooling.)

You had a personal office in ramshackle, an empty dorm becoming suitable with your own personal desk, computer, book shelf, and another necessities. You had a location in the main building, the room connected to the nurses office had been refurnished as your main office. Book shelves of self care, items for fiddling with, bean bags, posters with encouraging words, and a desk full of papers, along with other needed items graciously funded by the school (you threatened Crowley at one point, accusing him of not caring of his students.) Of course, being on call meant students may drop by the dorm at any given time for your aid and expertise, so the ramshackle dorm lounge was also redecorated suited for sessions that were a bit more casual.

But of course, you also managed to juggle your studies as a student, wanting to continue to learn about magic. Working on the call was nice, keeping your phone on and excusing yourself whenever official work called for you. Unless you rather not be a student, that is fine, too. Full time therapist work may be the job for you!

Helping students heal one tragic back story at a time seemed perfectly fitting. (You just wanted to finally get paid and recognized for what you were already doing.)

[bornagainmurdock]

manic delusions & a gentle boyfriend

author's note: i, in a mania induced haze, created a playlist about how much i want to fight matt the other day, so inspired by my need to calm tf down, i offer you this. as always, not all mania looks the same or is the same.

contents: fluff but the angsty kind a little bit, matt murdock x reader, gender neutral reader, reader experiences mania, undisclosed mental illness, basically how matt helps with a manic episode

word count: 1.4k

While Matt had never necessarily experienced mania himself, when you explained how it worked for you to him and how to tell you were about to have an episode. The signs were never the same, but the motivations were. You'd done the thousands of dollar shopping sprees, the impromptu trips around the country via your ratty old car, the detailed documents abotu elaborate plans you couldn't comprehend when the episode lasted. If fact, Matt had been present for most of them, not stopping you, because then the urge would continue, but helping you ride through them safely.

Today Matt caught you in the middle of a shopping spree on your laptop at hte dining room for craft supplies. They were on sale, what were you expected to do.

"Can we step away from that for a minute?" Matt was kind with his words knowing that any aggressive push would send you sprialing any further.

"In a minute. I'm busy." Your eyes were glued to the screen, scrolling endlessly through the site's inventory.

"I see that. I'm just worried about you." He sighed, sitting at the opposite side of the table.

"I'm not manic—"

"I trust you. I just want you to take a break from the screens for an hour or so, your eyes need the break." He was gentle still, sure to not cross any emotional or physical boundaries.

"Yah I think you're right. I think I might go on a run along the Hudson river." You sprang to your feet, bouncy as ever.

"It's always great to move your body, but I think maybe we should sit down for a bit together. We haven't talked much today." He knew if you left the house you'd come back overexerted, damaging your joints in the process.

"Okay?" You said, walking to sit on the floor in the open space of the apartment.

"What's going through your head?" He joined you on the floor, still at a distance to allow you to breathe.

He had realized maybe a day ago that you were having an episode and unable to realize it, too deep in it to see the light. This confrontation, if you could call it that, could make it worse, or, hopefully, give you a chance to reflect on your behavior and practice some coping mechanisms to come back down to earth.

"You think I'm manic." You said blunty, like a knife in Matt's chest.

"I do." He rotated his hands in his lap, face pointed down towards the floor. "And, I'm worried about you."

"I'm not manic."

Matt knew this was going to be hard, but he was hopeful.

"Okay, I trust you. You can go back to what you're doing. I just wanted to check in." He started to stand before he was interrupted by your thoughts.

"Okay, well maybe I am. But I don't think it's a bad thing. I've gotten so much done. I've deep cleaned the whole apartment. I'm all caught up on work for the next two weeks. I'm gonna learn how to cross stitch." You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly trying to think through each of those sentences before Matt could. "Okay, so I'm manic. How do I fix it?" You pouted with the last sentence.

"Nothing to fix. Your brain is just having a time right now, and we're gonna work through it together." He smiled, scooting closer to intertwine a hand with yours. "How about we risk assess, hmm?"

"I think that's a good idea."

"Okay first one, cleaning. What do you think about that activity?" He was still, but open, hoping this dialogue would help until the brain chemicals subsided.

"Cleaning is helpful for the house, and for us, but I probably didn't pay as much attention as I would have liked during the tasks. I probably overworked my body in the process. I think this time it's a net positive as we haven't cleaned much since last season."

"That's a good analysis. How about the second one now." Matt said. He had read some of the books your therapist had recommended to you, and was very attentive when you explained how your brain worked, hoping the break down of tasks would help you realize the bigger picture.

"Getting my work done is good, but getting the next two weeks done is too much. I won't have anything to do for two weeks now. Net negative." You slouched into Matt's touch, leaning against his arm and resting there.

"Okay, and three?"

"I don't know how to cross stitch and I haven't watched or read any tutorials. I think I'm interested in it, but I should be thoughtful about buying materials in case I don't stick with it. Net neutral."

"Good job. Is there anything else you'd like to break down and think about with another brain here with you?" Matt was now rubbing your arm that was closest to him, trying to ground you with touch.

"Can I think and get back to you?"

"Of course you can. Thank you." He untangled himself from you and stood, helping you up in the process and leading you back to your computer. "Why don't you buy a small beginner kit and you can tell me all about it."

"Okay."

"And here's my card." Matt pulled his wallet from his back pocket and passed a card to you. He knew you were less inclined to spend him money than your own because of guilt.

"Thank you Matt."

"You're welcome baby. I'm gonna go sit on the couch and you join me when you're ready to give a lecture on cross stitch."

----

Later that night, after the lecture and a series of snacks Matt was willing to consider dinner, you both sat on the couch needing to get ready for bed.

"You're not tired, are you?" He said, turning to face you.

"No. Dumb brain chemicals." You pouted again, showing it with the tone of your voice.

"Why don't I help you draw a bath, and you can pick out a bath bomb or some bath salts and I can sit with you while you relax?"

"I'd like that."

"Then, let's go!" Matt jumped up from the couch with a smile, once again reaching out to lead you there.

Once inside, Matt passed you the bin with all the fancy bath and shower supplies for you to sort through.

"I'm thinking pomegranate bath bomb and some CBD bath soak. The one with glitter." You pulled them out and set them on the counter.

"Sounds good to me." Matt said.

He turned on the faucets, trying to find the perfect blend of hot and cold that would be comfortable but not too overwhelming. You were bad at telling temperatures when manic, often making soup of yourself in the bath.

You started to strip, walking around in circles to ease the excitement of a fancy bath. Your clothes in a pile on the floor, you warn Matt before he about trips over them.

"What color towel?"

"Red please!" You shout back.

"Alright." He sets the towel over the hooks next to the bath and strips himself of most of his clothes, helping you into the tub before sitting down next to it. He turns off the faucets and the silence dances around the room.

"Matt, can you play with my hair?"

"Of course I can. Do you just want me to talk and try to get you back on the ground?" His closer hand moved to your hair, brushing over it with a bit of pressure to remind you of his presence.

The bath was warm but not too hot. The temperature eventually caught up to you, beads of sweat forming on your forehead.

The bath bomb was almost done fizzing, bouncing between your legs dying the water a vibrant red.

"I wish you could see the color of this bath bomb, kinda looks like the DD suit." You splashed it for a second, enjoying the novelty of it.

"Story time?" He laughed.

"Story time!"

"Okay so yesterday at work, Foggy and Karen both decided to pull a prank on me," Matt went further into detail than he had to, attempting to help you picture it in your own head, "The coffee machine, you know the one on the counter in the office that almost never gets clean. Well, they took the coffee filter out of it, so when I went to make coffee, hot beans. poured out. Like coarse ground coffee beans, right into my favorite mug, the one you got me—"

[torawro]

cw ━━ ! minors, ageless and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. this is a toji-centric fic (exclusively from his pov with third person narration) so it doesn’t truly have a reader, but the “woman” often being mentioned throughout is afab. loosely based on chapter 75 of the manga. contains heavy (ish) angst + and descriptions of angst. contains nsfw and descriptions of explicit scenarios, including penetrative sex (reflecting on it already happening) and masturbation (m. receiving, mentions of dried cum). metaphorical (sort of??) depictions of dark themes (i.e., nonexistent “voices”, bad coping skills, toji’s deep emotional and mental trauma, hints of dissociation, etc.). toji is emotionally stunted n constipated and therefore kinda rude. i’m trying to depict him as realistically as possible. lmk if i missed something ♡.

word count ━━ ! 2.0k

notes ━━ ! i posted this fic last night but i am reposting because it wasn’t showing up in the tags (sobs loudly) so i'm sorry for tagging everyone again. i hope you all enjoy this though. wanted highlight an important aspect of toji's life (after mamaguro's death) in a different way bc a lot of the fandom glosses it over w/ jokes. they can be funny or whatever but what this man has been through is actually sad and must have been difficult. since gege refuses to give more backstory on him, i wanted to try and verbalize a more somber, realistic version of toji and dissect him a bit. hopefully i did well characterizing him in this context. reblogs and commentary are very much appreciated!!!!

TOJI'S RAGGED BREATHS SOON evened out after a few minutes. His strong, scarred chest resumed its normal pattern and pacing of its rises and falls. The tail end of his constrained groans of pleasure and expletives lingered in the air along with the stuffy aroma of sex.

With his head resting against the headboard of this woman's bed━ a woman whose name briefly escaped from his mind━ and his increasingly soft cock resting in his callous palms, Toji's eyes slowly pried themselves open and were motionlessly glued to the white ceiling.

He laid there in that position, unmoving, for at least five minutes. Silence swallowed up the space of the room, except for the distant sound of a shower running directly across the hall.

At present, all Toji had the energy for was to breathe and blink. He didn't even move to immediately rid himself of his own ropes of cum that were beginning to harden in his hand in spots on his inner thighs.

Like a spark of static electricity giving him a miniscule jolt of energy, Toji found it within himself to drag his dark, jade irises over to the bedroom door that was slightly ajar, and stared at it as he listened to the water from the showerhead rain on the woman bathing herself.

The events of the last couple of hours replayed throughout his mind's eye as he blankly stared at the entryway. He thought about how he met the woman at one of the establishments he preferred to gamble his money at and how her sugary smile sweetened his silver tongue. He pondered over how he somehow persuaded her to take him back to her very nice apartment, and how he in return gained a place to lay low and rest for the next week or so, by coaxing her with his words and his well-endowed cock.

A gruff, sardonic chuckle fell from his parted lips when he then started thinking about the intercourse he engaged in with this woman. Despite how good it was, despite how her cunt squeezed and fluttered around him, at the end of it all, he still had to resort to pumping his own length like a touch deprived teenager just to obtain that release that's been building up over the last few hours.

Mentally shaking away the lethargy that plagued every square inch of his brain and body, the former Zen'in lifted his head and directed his vision at his bare lap and the sheets that pooled around his knees. Allowing his head fall forward a bit, his inky black hair acted as curtains to conceal his scarred face━ and the other thoughts that lurked in the shadows of his mind that threatened to reveal themselves on his countenance.

If this is what post-nut clarity truly felt like, Toji would have preferred to remain in the state of blissful ignorance and perpetual 'arousal' forever.

He's never felt so blinded by his reality than he did in this moment.

As he thought over this, dark tendrils of smoke rose and slithered out from his repressed memories, suffocating his consciousness like a python squeezing the life out of its prey. He ignored the sensation and its whispers that told him that that wasn't true. He lent a deaf ear to its reminders that he had always been cognizant.

Toji had always been painfully aware of his feelings and the realities that were constantly handed to him. The reality of the life he ran away from, the reality that crumbled away and died with his wife, and of the fucking pathetic reality that stared at him in the face in the form of his dried seed and some stranger's bed. Deep down he unfortunately remembered and was aware of everything. He only became increasingly more conscious, as the months and years toiled by, that he didn't want to be. It was less of a pain that way.

But goddamn it, sometimes his mind was too sharp for its own good, his thoughts strayed too far that it would pierce his very heart and soul.

Toji's vacant gaze was no longer trained on his hands, but more like past them━ into the metaphysical void of space itself, and he was dragged deeper into thoughts he didn't like to revisit or linger on. Everything around him seemed to become muffled and faded into nonexistence.

Toji had previously believed that he didn't care how he lived anymore, as long as he got paid what he was owed and someone didn't try to assassinate him as he slept, then everything else was fine. He believed that going through life like this was no big deal, that this ephemeral living situation didn't bother him. He again ignored the tendrils that reminded him that it did.

A grimace of contempt formed on his face when he subconsciously compared his current behavior of jumping from woman to woman to that of some kind of male prostitute. It shouldn't have bothered him, really━ wasn't like he put a gun to any of their heads or something. It was their problem if they wanted to spread their legs for him, and he enjoyed sex, relatively free meals and some extra spending cash here and there. None of that was supposed to tug uncomfortably at his soul but it did.

And it made sense that it did, when memories of his late wife still flashed in his mind from time to time━ like at this very moment, for example. She appeared whenever his eyes fluttered shut for too long or when he was pulled so far underneath the surface of his own thoughts. Strangely enough, this wasn't exclusive to after having sex with another woman or mindless masturbating.

He was supposed to have gotten rid of that stupid self-respect, this dignity and its adjacent shame, that still lingered in the back of his chest.

He promised himself that he wouldn't live by such standards of pride anymore. He hasn't for a long time, and has been doing well but. . . . but why did the specters of doubt still haunt him so? Hasn't he suffered enough? Those remnants and emotions of an existence that slipped through the cracks and fell into the abyss, shouldn't be able to reach him all the way up here.

But they did.

Toji wasn't as foreign to doubt, to shame, to pride & to self-respect as he thought he was. He'd just been fooling himself. He had always been very persuasive.

None of those things had ever done him any good anyway. All they did was remind him that he was still human.

A useless sentiment. One that no longer mattered.

He shifted his head to the right, gaze hooded before he briefly closed his eyes━ as if he were trying to avert his attention away from something disturbing━ in a feeble attempt to extinguish the wispy embers of his thoughts and ignore its voice.

But Toji’s soul would always smolder with rejection, a characteristic of his that was so deeply ingrained into the fabric of his existence, it wouldn't dissipate no matter how much he wanted it to. His acceptance or refusal of this notion would always be apart of him━ it would always define who he was, whether he welcomed it or not.

But he didn’t care. Caring would make him feel, and reflect and remember too much, and he wasn't really itching to do any of those things anymore.

He only opened his eyes again by a few centimeters, his long dark lashes nearly obscuring his vision completely. His broad shoulders faintly slumped forward, and the fist he didn’t know was clenched into a fist relaxed itself. Like everything else, he ignored the dull ache his short finger nails caused, creating crescent shaped marks on his hand.

The large man hadn't realized the woman was finished with her shower until his ears picked up the sound of her feet on the hardwood floor. The padding noise that steadily increased in volume was enough to break Toji free of his torpid stupor, allowing him to swing his legs over the bed and finally stand up.

Stretching out his limbs and rolling his shoulders, his muscles flexed and shifted across the wide planes of his marred but statuesque body.

As he began looking around for his shirt and boxers, his phone vibrated on the bedside table. Toji picked up and answered without even bothering to check who it was, because there were only two people that had this particular number. And one of those people had an unfortunate "accident” during a previous job.

“What is it?” he answered, slightly startling himself with his own voice; it didn’t quite sound like it came from his mouth. It seemed a little raspier, rougher around the edges, and deeper than usual, like he hasn't spoken in long time.

“Now is that any way to greet the person who so generously hands you on a silver platter?” Shiu Kong’s equally deep but honey-smooth voice reverberated in Toji’s ear.

Toji’s eye roll was practically audible as Shiu chuckled mirthfully on the other line, already imagining the look on his client’s face.

Without having to turn around, he sensed the presence of the woman he was currently “staying” with enter the room. He couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge her wrapping her arms around him from behind and kissing his upper back before floating off to her vanity and closet, which sat on the other side of the room closer to the door.

Still, even though he wasn’t next to her, Toji knew he couldn’t speak as freely as he would of liked now, which irritated him.

“Do you have something for me or not?”

“I wouldn’t be calling if I didn’t.”

After listening to what Shiu had to say, and agreeing to confirm the meeting spot via text, the phone call between them ended as swiftly as it started. Toji sighed.

Another job.

Another chance to earn money.

And although he didn’t wholly or immediately admit it to himself, it was his new distraction, and another chance to reject the wretched society that birthed him.

Toji had unknowingly zoned out trying not to think too hard about this, before the woman’s voice regained his attention by cutting through the air like a knife on a chopping board.

“Did you hear me? I was just asking who that was? . . . . Are you okay?”

The raven haired man remained still for a moment before directing his stare at the woman. He was nearly staring down his nose at her, confusion, concern and light curiosity laced in her own eyes.

The silence carried on for what felt like ages, Toji’s mostly unreadable but still intimidating expression scalded the space in between them.

But, as if his thoughts and whatever emotions it mirrored were never there to begin with, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, and the scar that stretched across his lips curved with them in tandem. His smirk looked disarming— maybe even harmless, but something about it felt cold and wolfish, as if it weren’t genuine.

“I’m really sorry if this comes as a bit of a shock and disappointment to you, but if I'm not mistaken, I believe the phone call came through my phone. Not yours, and not ours. Thanks for the concern though, sweetheart.”

As he headed towards the door, still bare as the day he was born, Toji didn’t miss the opportunity to glide a heavy hand across the woman’s delicate shoulder blades, his grin widening by a fraction when she tried and failed to suppress a shudder.

“Oh, and um I made a little bit of a mess on the sheets after you left so, you might wanna clean that up. Probably already dried up by now. Sorry 'bout that,” his voice dipped low, utterly tantalizing as he whispered against the woman’s earlobe. The man didn’t even stick around to see her reaction, as he was already out the door and making his way to the bathroom for his own shower.

When the water warmed up to his liking, he didn’t waste any time stepping in and letting the droplets cascade down his body and relax his muscles.

Running his left hand through his hair to push it out of his face, he inhaled and exhaled deeply. Toji was able to silence and cool down the smoldering coal that burned at the bottom of his soul, the opaque tendrils retracting back to whence it came.

Just . . . . nearly.

(#) @triangularz @stygianoir @valentineluvu @ramonathinks @valentineluvu @ryukenzz @gabzlovesu @luxesiren @honeybleed @blkjupiters @souyaszn @sxphyroth . let me know if you wanna join my tag list ♡. again i apologize for tagging folks twice, this is a repost of the original 💔

[authorforrosie]

Book: Little had Jennie known

Pairing: Jennie x You. [GxG]

Warning: Angst

Words count:

Author Note: This imagine is based on the song little do you know and skin. This imagine will be more angsty than happy. SInce I´ve been more into writing about angst instead of fluff, Since life is not a fairytale.

Little do you know, I am breakin´while you fall asleep

Little do you know

i`m still haunted by the memories.

After everything that happened between you and Jennie you still have been haunted by the memories. It still felt like yesterday when you got a phone call by Jennie about her sleeping with another woman. You knew you´ve been broken up since a few weeks. It still hurt though it felt like thousand thorns getting though the heart. Especially because you promised at each other to always come back for each other. Since that´s how much you love each other or at least supposed to be.

You tried not to cry on the phone especially since Jennie could hear the pain in your voice. You know how sympathetic Jennie is and that she will start to cry as well. You thought about muting yourself so she won´t be able to hear you cry. Mostly because you could swallow down your feelings or tears of heartbreak pain. You didn´t know what to say or feel about the situation. You remembered how she told you that she is in love with you. You´ve never doubted her or her words until the phone call. Until you got to know that she slept with another woman on the night to your supposed anniversary. She even slept over at Jennie´s expensive house in South Korea. You´ve been insecure thinking that a woman from her country would be better to date for her instead of you.

At this moment you felt haunted by the memories. You still heard her voice though the phone, her whispered apologies and the sadness in her voice. You thought Jennie was asleep whenever you turned your back towards her when you felt tears rolling down your cheeks, mostly when you cried painfully or silently.

Layin´in my bed a little lonely,

I wanna know how she taste, can you show me

You´ve been crying during the days after break up because of how much you still love her, You won´t have hesitated to take her back anytime and to come back for her.

Now that you know she slept with someone else during the night to your supposed anniversary you wondered how the other woman tasted like. You wondered why she picked her and started something with you. Wasn´t you supposed to be special. Didn´t she say that she is yours only no matter what happens.

I-I-I, I wonder if she knows

That I see her every time

my eyes close

taking off your clothes,

don´t know how to cope

I hate the way my mind is

a bedroom window

I wish my lips were her

lips on your lips

I wish my hips were her

hips on your hips

Didn´t you tell her that I exist

You´ve been seeing the other woman on social media,

since you already knew that Jennie talked to her friendly during your relationship

before the break up. You already had a bad feeling about her at that time. You might have thought that something might have happened, you actually didn´t expect that something would happen between Jennie and the other woman from her country.

You know that it´s okay that Jennie slept with the other woman a few days after your break up and got together with her a few days later. You just wondered why would she cause you pain like that. According to her own words she wasn´t supposed to be in a new relationship since she promised you that you would be her last.

Since you knew about the other woman you couldn´t help yourself from comparing yourself to her. You wondered what the other woman had that you didn´t. You got drunk whenever you felt like crying or whenever Jennie talked about the other woman or even mentions her name. Since you didn´t wanna feel anything. Alcohol helped you to drink your feelings away. It helped you to cope with pain and numbing the sadness.

You caught your brain doubting Jennie sometimes whenever its her phone notifications, mention her name, seeing her react on the other woman´s post or even them following each other. You asked yourself everyday if you are allowed to let your brain doubt her sometimes, your reactions on her name being mentioned, getting scared of a possibility of Jennie getting a notification by her. Jennie reacting on her post or even them following each other.

Little do you know

I´m trying to pick up myself piece by piece

Litlle do you know

I need a little more time

Underneath it all I´m held captive by the hole inside

I´ve been holding back for the fear you might change your mind

I´m ready to forgive, but forgettin´is a harder fight.

You´ve been getting a little bit more clingy and sometimes more distant towards Jennie since you´ve been holding back. You felt captive underneath the fear of Jennie changing her mind and giving the other woman a chance. You´ve been trying to pick up yourself piece by piece in hopes to fix your broken heart, You only need a little bit more time for the harder fight to forget about what happened. You´ve been ready to forgive Jennie completely. You still get captive underneath the fear of possibility of breaking up with you since she has been talking a lot about that subject.

Everything around you was slowly changing for better because every new chapter is a new chance, new opportunities. You wanted to learn how to become better for yourself. At the same time you held hopes that Jennie will always be by yourself. As your girlfriend. Only the future could tell what would happen to you both and what direction your relationship goes into. You only always had four important questions in the back of your mind. Does she love you as much as you love her? is she truly in love with you? most important can she see a futue with you only? does she wants to be yours for the rest of her life? only her actions now and in the future could tell.

[thecircularsystem]

Working a lot lately on not splitting, and then promptly working on splitting in healthy ways instead.

I spoke with some friends about it today. Essentially, I've been trying to hold off a split for the last week or so. I've been having nightmares about splitting a specific character from a D&D campaign of mine, and I've really been struggling with holding it off. There's a lot of reasons why, reasons that I don't think are necessary to get into here. Regardless the reasons, I don't want to split right now.

But my friends made a very, very valid couple of points, and I think they're pretty important to share. I'm going to put some of this in my own words though, just... based on some of the thoughts I've had today, in part to get my own brain to sort itself out.

I know this one, but it's always very helpful to have a reminder: Splitting is inherently a neutral-positve thing. Splitting is not bad. It's a coping mechanism my brain has practiced and learned for a very long time. While it's good to have goals and such to improve my mental health where I don't need to split, it's okay to not be there yet! It's not like splitting is bad for me. I'm still me, regardless, at the end of it all.

Healing requires loving each part of yourself. That includes the new splits you may or may not be forming. If I want to heal, I'm going to need to accept this part of me -- even if he isn't here yet. How much harder will it be to love myself if I start out with all this resentment out of the gate?

And that kinda leads me to point 2.5: Another friend pointed out that it's okay to hold off on splitting as much as I can at the moment, because lord, I am struggling lately. I really don't have the energy nor time to split right now, for a thousand reasons.

It's absolutely okay to have that need to hold off... But I need to make sure the new part knows that too. It's okay to hold off and try to hold on for the time being, but it's important to throw a message to the void of just... You are loved, and we will accept you -- please just hold on a little longer for us.

I can't imagine, myself, how alienating it might be for a part like that to be splitting so painfully and slowly. It's all so confusing right now, and I know he can't be enjoying the wait. That's why we finally opened the doors a little for him today, let him get a taste of life, just to test the waters, because god we are so all over the place that we can't function.

And... it went so well? All our fears subsided, at least briefly, while he, the... the fragment? he is? God, do we finally have a fragment? I need to look more into it, but regardless -- he isn't fully formed, but he fronted, and the love we felt.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I just... felt the need to share. Be nice to new parts everyone, no matter the circumstances of their splits.

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfics - Penpals

Words: 792

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

21st August

Moony,

Please tell me you’re still coming this weekend. Evans actually replied to one of James’ (many) letters, and not just to tell him to fuck off, and he is being unbearable. If I have to hear one more sentence that starts “She said” I might just unforgivable myself. Please put me out of my misery, I’ve been helping Effie cook just to get away from the lovesick prick. Note that I can cook now. I’ll show you this weekend, I asked her to teach me how to make Samosas and they’re surprisingly easy. So I can make you samosas now! Hope the moon wasn’t too bad, wish we could have been there.

Padfoot

✨✨✨✨

21st August

Pads,

I’ll be there Friday night, I promise.

To be fair to James, it’s a pretty big deal for him. But rest assured I’ll tell him to shut up if you need me to. Lily didn’t tell me that she replied to him, so now I need to fire off a letter to her and ask her if she sustained a head injury. Please don’t off yourself, I don’t want to spend the week with lovesick Prongs on my own.

Samosas! For me? I’m glad James’ arseholery has resulted in something good at least. I will never tire of Effie’s Samosas, so the bar is high! I hope you’re practicing ready for the weekend, I expect to be wowed.

The moon wasn’t great. I have two ugly new scars on my jaw/cheek, just to prepare you for the weekend.

The wolf misses his friends, and I miss mine.

Moony

🌙🌙🌙🌙

21st August

Dear Lily,

I have received news that you sent a letter to James, and I was so concerned that I had to write to you immediately. Are you alright? Were you injured? How bad was the head injury? Do they think you’ll ever gain back full brain function?

But seriously, what the fuck? He won’t shut up about it and he’s driving Sirius mad. I’m spending the week with them and if he’s as insufferable as Sirius claims, I will be blaming you.

Hope you’re enjoying France.

Also, I told you so.

Remus

🌺🌺🌺🌺

22nd August

Moons,

Sorry the moon was shit. We’ll be back at school by the next one and it’ll be better. Also, I won’t tell you again, your scars aren’t ugly. They’re cool and rugged, and make you look distinguished and mysterious. I will hear no arguments on this subject, thank you. I also meant to ask how many books you’ve read this summer. I think you’ll be incredibly proud that I have read seven whole books in the last month. One of them was mostly pictures, but I think it still counts. I’m agonised that your only issue with my death is that you’ll have to cope with Prongs’ pining alone. Do I truly mean so little to you, Remus? I fear I shall never recover from this slight.

Yours,

Pads

PS: I made another batch of samosas and honestly, you’re going to swoon when you taste them. They’re so good. Effie seems to love bonding with me over a hot stove, and it’s very sweet. I love living here so much. I try not to think about what I’d be doing if I wasn’t here, but sometimes the comparison is helpful. Well, that got sappy. My next letter will only be discussing Quidditch and boobs to make up for it. Counting down the hours til Friday.

✨✨✨✨

23rd August

Pads,

Not long to go now. Can’t wait to see you later, and for samosas.

Seven books? Wow. That’s impressive! I’m a few ahead of that, but I’ve literally had nothing to do but read since July. Moony and Padfoot book club, when?

Can you believe it’s been over a month since I saw you? Maybe you’ve finally had that growth spurt you’ve been hoping for. My mum seems to think I’ve grown, but she always says that.

It wasn’t enough for me to tell you not to top yourself in general? Do you need me to tell you how much I’d miss you creeping into my bed at 3 am and hogging the blankets? Or how sad it would make me to not have to share every cup of tea I make? Weirdly, I would actually miss that, to be fair, so please be alive when I get there.

If I wanted to hear about Quidditch and boobs, I’d write to Prongs. Please spare me. I’ll probably be with you before it arrives, so there’s little point. I might send this right before I floo so you don’t get chance to reply. If so, hi, I’m already here!

Looking forward to swooning over you! your samosas!

Your

Moony

🌙🌙🌙🌙

[genericpuff]

HIHI!!! I hope you're good, Puff!!

If you're ever up for it, I'd love to hear how you work and create while dealing with ADHD. I got a confirmed diagnosis just yesterday (though I've been suspecting it for a long time) and it'd be wonderful to hear how you cope with the struggles it provides, or even discuss any benefits you've discovered.

If not, no worries!! Thank you for reading this, Puff!!

<3

oh god I feel so bad every time this question comes up because. I can't really tell you how exactly I've been able to do it LOL Congrats on getting your assessment, I actually just got paired with a new physician the other day and am now pursuing medication for my own ADHD struggles as well! I got diagnosed with 100% combined ADHD yaaaaay!

Short answer to your question: very very carefully! Because despite the work I put out, I am still VERY prone to burnout. While on the surface you all see me putting out regular updates of Rekindled, underneath that are projects that have fallen to the wayside because my brain just said "nah, I don't wanna play with you anymore" and that sucks! And I don't want Rekindled to wind up that way either!

Recognizing my limitations and making accommodations where needed has definitely helped. Changing my update schedule from once a week to once every two weeks, working with an assistant, learning which battles to fight and which ones to pass on, etc. Obviously out-of-pocket things like having an assistant aren't options for everyone, but getting to work with Banshriek has really opened my eyes to how much I was putting myself through with when I was flying solo. I have that bad habit of taking on way too much for myself, thinking that I'm capable of being everything within a project and fulfilling every role, but that's exactly how folks like us wind up getting burnt out and falling out of love with our projects. So I've definitely learned to appreciate collaboration more in that regard, both for the sake of "carrying the load" as well as giving me another voice to give input and feedback.

But when that's not an option, definitely make sure to pace yourself. There's so much misinformation about what makes a "successful" comic and normalization of extremely unhealthy working habits that it makes people think they're not allowed to make comics unless it's a 50+ panel a week ordeal. Update on a schedule that works for you, people appreciate consistency above all things, even if it's only a page a week or a few pages a month, that's more than enough.

You also absolutely need to make sure to rest. Proper rest, no thinking about the next page or the next update, just go out and exercise or hang out with friends or do something that gets you away from your usual working area and also provides you with stimulation. It's good for both your mental and physical health. I know with ADHD it can be very tempting to just pour every bit of yourself into a project right off the bat because you're so excited and full of BEANS, but that's just the dopamine demon talking! Don't let it tempt you into spending all of it in once place! If you do that, that's when you'll wind up burnt out and taking breaks that you can't recover from! It's a marathon, not a race!

When it comes to my own experiences, I really just love drawing comics. If it wasn't Rekindled, it would be anything else. That made it 'easy' to turn it into a habitual routine, but that's only because to me, drawing comics is the escape from the more boring shit I have going on in my life. This means I have to balance it carefully so that it doesn't become too much of a job or an obligation. There are definitely times when that balance tips, when the last thing I wanna look at is whatever episode I'm working on, and when I find myself crunching on pages with 2 days left on the clock before an upload.

The important thing is not to get yourself down over the failures and keep moving forward, even if it's not as fast a speed as you were hoping for. We're often really hard on ourselves to put out 150% on everything we do, but if 150% were the norm, it would just be 100%, y'know what I mean? And even still we're not designed to put 100% in every day, because some days we'll only have the capacity to offer up 30% - 30% is 100% on those days. Be kind to yourself <3