#like feeling unloved is all MY fault i am the one who can never get enough

[medicasino]

i'm seriously tired of this like,,, constant feeling of never really feeling important to anyone. and it's like, it's 100% on me, it is 100% my fault i feel this way but,,, eugh

[girlivealwaysbean]

.

[delulustateofmind]

"It's All Your Fault, Isn't It?"

Yan! SatoSugu x Reader Sum: You've had the chances, why didn't you take them. In the end you'll always just lose the purest of love. Last part of: Can my friend join?, This is Love, Right? ** Can be read as standalone fics** TW: Yandere Behaviors (Obsession, Manipulation, etc), Death of Child Character, Blood, Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Depression, Dubcon, Lactation, Pregnancy themes, SatoSugu, Angst No Comfort. MDNI WC: 7.7k

A/n: I got supperrr stuck in the loop of editing, so I am just gonna post it, I feel like rereading it after the tenth time. I almost just pressed delete lol. :) enjoy!

It’s all your fault, isn’t it?

You did this to yourself. You should have walked away when the chance was there, when the door was still open, even just a crack. You should have screamed, fought, run—anything to reclaim a sliver of your freedom.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Was it the security? The comfort of knowing you’d never struggle to pay bills or scramble to find work? Was it the way Satoru promised, over and over, that you’d never go unloved, never feel the ache of loneliness again?

Or was it something darker? Something you couldn’t quite admit to yourself?

You told yourself it was love. You told yourself you were lucky. How many women could say they had someone who’d give them the world? Someone who, with a flick of his wrist, could bend the rules of life itself to ensure you had everything you could ever need?

So, you stayed.

Even before Suguru became part of the equation, you stayed. You even stayed when Satoru would come home in the dead of night, his footsteps a faint echo through the silent halls before his hands found you. You’d stir from your sleep as he pulled your panties down with barely a word, his breath hot against your neck.

There was no tenderness in those moments, no love—just need. A raw, consuming need he claimed you had to fulfill. And you let him, didn’t you? You let him push inside you with barely any preparation, your body yielding to him because he knew it so well.

Satoru knew the places that made you crumble, the spots where your body quivered, the way your breath hitched when his fingers grazed just right. He knew you better than you knew yourself, didn’t he? His movements were deliberate, practiced, the wet noises filling the room a cruel testament to how thoroughly he’d mastered you.

You’d given him permission. He reminded you of that often, didn’t he? That you’d said yes. That he worked so hard, carried so much, and that this was his right. That he had needs only you could meet.

And you understood. You always understood.

After all, he was the strongest, wasn’t he?

So, you let him use you.

Like a doll.

You’d lay there, staring at the ceiling, as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his loud groans of release cutting through the stillness. A pathetic little whimper followed, muffled by the darkness, as he spilled himself inside you. And then, as if the act meant nothing, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, murmured something soft and indistinct, and rolled over to his side of the bed.

You stayed there, silent and unmoving, the lingering heat of his body beside you doing nothing to warm the cold ache between your thighs.

That’s when the thought would creep in. A sick, unwelcome whisper:

You didn’t even climax.

You hated yourself for thinking it. For letting it matter.

But still, you stayed.

Was it fear that held you there? Or was it hope—a desperate, foolish hope that one-day things would change? That one day, every day would feel like those rare, sweet moments when he pressed teasing kisses against your lips before dragging you out to get sweets. That he’d touch you with love, with the tenderness he so effortlessly showed to others—when he wasn’t breaking them apart piece by piece with that same teasing grin.

And now, looking back, you can’t decide what’s worse: that you didn’t leave when you had the chance…

Or that part of you still doesn’t want to.

You stayed, even when the small arguments started. The little spats about wanting him to open up more, to share pieces of his life with you, the pieces he always kept hidden. Perhaps it was selfish—maybe even naïve—but you wanted to know why he loved you.

Really, truly loved you.

But you never asked.

You saved that question, tucking it away deep into your heart, right alongside the cracks that had already started forming. You told yourself it wasn’t the right time. That maybe he wasn’t ready. That you shouldn’t push. Instead, you focused on the good times, clinging to them like lifelines.

Because they were good, weren’t they?

What other guy would give you the world like Satoru did? What other guy would bring you flowers every week—a different color each time, sometimes traditional, sometimes exotic, but always beautiful? What other guy would shower you with affection so openly, so shamelessly, pressing kisses to your skin, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded?

Satoru had told you he loved you. And maybe he did—in a way that wasn’t entirely built on desire, the need to keep you within his grasp, or the insatiable craving to hold you close for the rest of your days.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

That’s why you stayed.

Even when Suguru came into the picture—when those dark, calculating eyes lingered on you just a moment too long when his quiet, honeyed words wove themselves into your life like threads binding you to a tapestry you couldn’t escape—you stayed.

You had the choice, didn’t you? You could have said no. You could have walked away.

But you didn’t.

You stayed, and now there was no one else to blame.

So, truly, it is all your fault.

However, your heart’s at fault too, isn’t it? For leaning into Suguru's touches, craving his warmth, even when you knew deep down that he was a cruel and awful man. A man who veiled his darkness in sweetness, wrapping it in gentle words and tender caresses that made you doubt your own truths. He was a master of contradiction—soft hands and sharp edges, honeyed lies hiding an iron grip.

You could have left.

You could have said no to the whole relationship, shut the door before it ever opened.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

You told yourself that maybe this was the best you could hope for, the best kind of love someone like you deserved. Because it was love, wasn’t it? They loved you. Even if it was conditional. Even if you had to give and give, piece after piece of yourself, just to receive a sliver in return.

Love comes in many forms, after all. And this was love.

Or so you continued to convince yourself.

This is what you deserve. That you should have listened to your gut, back when every touch felt too heavy, too lingering, too much. Back when their words seemed to wrap around you like chains instead of promises. You should have left before the walls around you closed in. Before you realized that leaving wasn’t just difficult—it was dangerous.

You had your chances, didn’t you? If only you’d taken them.

You knew Satoru would tear the world apart to find you if you ran. He’d find you, no matter where you went, no matter how far. But… would he really?

If you’d left early enough, maybe it wouldn’t have been like this. Maybe it would have been nothing more than a bad breakup, a lesson in heartbreak you’d recover from in time. Maybe, if you’d left after Suguru’s return, Satoru would have leaned on him instead of spiraling further into obsession.

But you didn’t leave.

You stayed.

Such a stupid, stupid girl.

And yet…

It was never just about them, was it?

Because you craved love too, just as much as they did. You wanted it desperately—so much that you ignored the warnings in your heart, the creeping dread in your chest. You wanted to be loved, to feel wanted, to belong to someone in a way that was absolute, undeniable, and unshakable.

And that’s exactly what they gave you.

But love like that—it came with a cost.

And you paid for it in silence, in submission, in the pieces of yourself you’d never get back.

So now, here you are, locked away in the beautiful Gojo estate. A place so grand it should feel like a palace, yet it suffocates you like a gilded cage. Every corner gleams with wealth and power, every surface reflects the life you’re supposed to be grateful for.

The maids don’t meet your eyes.

To them, you aren’t Satoru’s wife. You aren’t a partner. You’re something lesser.

A pet.

Because you aren’t the one ensuring the estate runs smoothly while Satoru is away on his endless missions. That responsibility doesn’t fall to you—it belongs to Suguru, doesn’t it? He’s the one in charge. He holds the reins, commanding the household with a quiet authority that leaves no room for question.

And you?

You remain.

The pet. The wife. The child-bearer.

Barefoot and pregnant, with a swollen belly to show for it, you shuffle through the estate like a ghost. Your body aches, weighed down not just by the child growing inside you, but by the chains of a life you can’t escape.

Suguru sees to it that the estate runs like a well-oiled machine, all while maintaining his title as the second strongest. His responsibilities never seem to tire him, never seem to dull his devotion. If anything, they only make him more overbearing.

He adores pampering you.

He drapes you in the softest blankets, ensuring you’re always warm. He dresses you in the finest clothes, silks and satins that cling to your growing belly, showcasing the proof of your usefulness. He loves the way your independence has been stripped away, loves the way you’ve been forced to rely on him for everything.

When did you become so dependent?

When did you start accepting his affection like a loyal dog, start leaning into the way his rough, calloused hands would trace the curve of your stomach? When did you start craving the way he’d gaze up at you with that lovesick smile, his voice low and honeyed as he murmured sweet words about the future?

“I hope the baby looks like Satoru,” he’d say, his eyes dark and soft as they met yours. Then, after a pause, “I hope it’s a girl.”

The words always made your chest tighten, made your stomach twist.

You know he must miss the twins.

It’s not just the weight of their absence—it’s the way he’s filled that void with this child, this unborn life. You can see it in the way he touches you, the way he watches you. He’s more excited about this pregnancy than you are.

And that’s the cruelest part, isn’t it?

Because to him, this isn’t just a child. It’s a legacy. A purpose.

To you?

It’s another chain.

And yet, you hate how loving he is. How he’s always there to hold your hair back when you’re bent over, heaving in the dead of night. How his large, warm hands find every knot in your aching limbs, massaging away the tension with a tenderness that makes your heartache.

It’s cruel, how gentle he can be. How he disarms you with care just when you think you might muster the strength to fight back.

There’s a constant mantra in your mind, a desperate hope that the baby won’t resemble either of them.

Because the thought of seeing their features reflected back at you stirs a fear too heavy to bear.

The thought of seeing their features reflected in those tiny, innocent eyes is terrifying. It brings the fear that every decision will feel like a mistake, that allowing any of this to happen will become an unbearable regret.

You tell yourself you hope, but it’s hard to ignore the possibility, isn’t it?

What if the child inherits Satoru’s piercing blue eyes—so crystalline they seem otherworldly, glowing even in the faintest light? The same eyes that burn and freeze you all at once, stripping you bare and exposing every secret, every hidden part of you.

Even his grin—boyish, sharp, too wide—lingers in your mind. A grin that could charm and cut in the same breath, leaving you unsure whether to lean closer or step away. What if that grin appeared on a smaller, softer face, just as devastating?

Or worse—what if the baby inherits Suguru’s gaze?

Those dark, soulful eyes that pull you in like the tide, gentle at first glance, inviting even, but hiding endless, churning storms beneath their surface. Eyes that promise escape is not an option. Unlike Satoru’s, Suguru’s smiles are quieter, softer—but no less dangerous. His smiles feel deliberate, like they’re slipping past every defense you didn’t even know you had.

Would the baby inherit Satoru’s arrogance? Suguru’s patience?

Or worse—would the child inherit both of their possessiveness?

The thought makes your skin crawl.

But the fear doesn’t end there.

Because it’s not just about the baby, is it?

It’s about you.

About how they’ve already carved themselves so deeply into your soul that you can’t even imagine a world without them. You hate that truth. Hate the way it festers inside you, a bitter root growing into every part of you.

You hate Satoru’s smirk when he strides into the estate after a mission, brushing off the exhaustion and blood as if it’s nothing. How he towers over you, his white hair catching the light in a way that seems almost ethereal, his fingers tilting your chin up with a mock tenderness that makes your breath catch.

You hate how he always knows exactly what to say to make you crumble, his voice dipping into that teasing lilt that makes your heart flutter in spite of yourself.

And Suguru—oh, you hate how he lingers. How his touch lingers. His hands are always warm, always deliberate, tracing paths across your skin as if he’s claiming you, piece by piece. Every stroke of his fingers feels like a silent reminder that you are his, that you belong to him. His voice, low and soothing, is a cruel contradiction—a balm against your nerves, even when his words are laced with quiet threats you pretend not to hear.

You hate them.

You hate the way they consume you, the way they’ve woven themselves into the fabric of your life so tightly that even your thoughts feel tangled in their presence.

And yet, as you sit in the vast, lonely expanse of the Gojo estate, the weight of your belly grounding you, you know the truth.

You’re not just afraid of the baby looking like them.

You’re afraid of what that child will mean.

Because if they look like Satoru, with his arrogance, his fire, his brilliance, how will you deny the pride swelling in your chest? How will you stop yourself from feeling that flicker of awe, even when you know you shouldn’t?

And if they look like Suguru, with his quiet strength, his steadfast devotion, how will you deny the love? How will you stop yourself from melting beneath those familiar eyes, from imagining them crinkling with joy or softening with affection?

You can’t.

And that's horrifying.

You won’t be able to ignore how Satoru has changed, how he’s become softer, more attentive in ways that make it harder to hold onto your resentment. How he lingers closer to you than he ever did before, as if the mere distance between you might undo something fragile inside him.

How he’s started resting his head in your lap as you sit together in the serene gardens, his white hair catching the sunlight like spun silk, almost ethereal. His long lashes cast soft shadows over his cheeks as his half-lidded gaze flickers up to meet yours, brimming with a tenderness you don’t know how to process.

He murmurs lazy words of affection, his voice low and warm, the kind of sweetness that drips like honey and sticks to your skin. His fingers trace absentminded circles on your thighs, soft patterns that feel far too intimate, far too easy.

And you hate how much you crave it.

You hate the way his presence soothes something raw inside you, even when you tell yourself it shouldn’t.

You hate how he’s begun helping you with the small, intimate things you wish you could keep to yourself. Like the unbearable ache in your swollen breasts, the pressure building so much it leaves you trembling, whimpering in pain. How he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even ask.

The way Satoru's lips wrap around you with loud, deliberate suckles, the sound echoing in the quiet as he eases the pressure with almost clinical precision. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t falter. His hands grip your hips to steady you, his thumbs pressing reassuring circles into your skin.

You hate the sound.

You hate the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way it prickles, a constant reminder of just how close he always is—too close.

When he’s finished, he pulls back with a satisfied hum, his lips brushing against your collarbone with a lingering kiss. His voice low, almost tender, as he murmurs, “I love this version of you.”

The words settle into you like stones. His lips, still soft from the milk, press against yours, and the faint sweetness lingers, almost cloying. Satoru murmurs more words—gentle, saccharine things that would feel kind if not for the way his hands start to roam as they wrap around your waist.

“How nurturing you’ve become,” he whispers, his tone carrying a dangerous sort of reverence.

That’s what he loves. That’s what he says.

And the way he looks at you when he says it—those bright blue eyes glinting with something dark, something that sinks its claws into you—makes your skin crawl. Because you know exactly what he means.

He doesn’t love the nurturing in and of itself. He loves how it ties you to him. How it binds you to this role, this life, this carefully constructed world where you are his and only his.

The version of you he loves is one that has no room for defiance, no space for resistance—only the space to give, to sacrifice, to bend under the weight of his love.

And that’s what makes it so much worse.

Because even as you hate it, even as your stomach churns and your skin prickles, there’s a part of you that leans into his touch. A part of you that longs for the softness, for the fleeting moments when it feels like love instead of control.

And you hate yourself for that, too

Because you know how it goes. You’ve seen it now. Lived it.

How one pregnancy ends and another begins.

The cycle repeated itself after your firstborn, didn’t it? Barely a year after you gave birth, they had you pregnant again. You didn’t even have time to recover, to heal, before they decided it was time for another.

But they love you, don’t they?

Satoru’s affection is impossible to miss—the way he grins at you, almost childlike, as he cups your face with hands that can destroy worlds but hold you as though you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. How he showers you with gifts, flowers in every shade imaginable, rare treasures that sparkle as brightly as his endless energy.

How many times has he told you, in his low, teasing voice, “You’re my world, you know that? I could do anything, have anything—but none of it would matter without you.”

It sounds like love, doesn’t it?

And Suguru—Suguru loves you too, in his quiet, steady way. You see it in the way he watches you, his dark eyes softening when you enter the room, the weight of his gaze feels suffocating. He’s the one who stays calm when you cry, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

And you believe him, don’t you?

They love you. That’s why they insist on keeping you close. Why Satoru kisses your forehead every morning, why Suguru runs his fingers through your hair as he whispers sweet nothings you’re too exhausted to resist. That’s why they ensure you’re taken care of, why they never let you lift a finger, why they promise they’ll always protect you.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Satoru once said, kissing your swollen belly as he grinned up at you. “Just stay here with us. That’s all we need.”

“It’s not just for us,” Suguru added, his voice softer, more measured. “It’s for you too. We want you to feel safe. Loved.”

And in moments like that, when the weight of their words settles in your chest like a lullaby, you almost believe them.

You tell yourself that no one else would love you this much. No one else would care for you so completely, so unconditionally—because this is love, isn’t it?

The maids barely acknowledged your struggles. Their gazes were cold, dismissive, even as your body ached and your mind screamed for reprieve. They would gently pry your child from your arms with hushed whispers.

“You need more rest,” they’d say, their voices soft but unyielding. “We’ll take care of them. Don’t worry.”

And what could you do? You’d watch helplessly as they carried your baby away, leaving you empty-handed, empty-hearted. As if you were nothing more than a vessel, an incubator meant to bear and birth heirs for the Gojo family.

Your firstborn was a boy.

A son.

An heir.

He looked just like Satoru.

Those piercing blue eyes stared back at you from his tiny, cherubic face, wide and curious, already holding a glint of brilliance and confidence you couldn’t deny. His hair was the same stark white, impossibly soft beneath your trembling fingers as you brushed it back, memorizing every perfect strand. Even the little smirk he gave in his sleep mirrored Satoru’s—a playful, almost mocking curl at the corners of his mouth that made your heart ache with emotions you couldn’t unravel.

You loved him.

You hated that you loved him.

And when Suguru would cradle him in his arms, his dark eyes soft and filled with a devotion that seemed to crack the carefully constructed walls around your heart, you couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in your chest. He’d whisper promises to the child—vows of protection and guidance.

When Satoru would swoop in, effortlessly spinning the boy around with an energy that filled the room with light, the sound of your son’s uncontrollable laughter echoing like music, that warmth would return. It would swell in your chest, suffocating and undeniable, a cruel reminder of the chains you wore willingly and unwillingly all at once.

This is what they wanted, wasn’t it?

This is what they’d planned all along.

And now, with another child growing inside you, you realize something that terrifies you more than anything else.

You’re not sure if you stayed because you had no choice.

Or because you wanted to.

Again, it’s all your fault.

For trying to run, again.

For thinking, just for a moment, that you could escape them.

You were far too pregnant. Belly too far swollen, body heavy and slow, every step a reminder of how deeply tethered you were to this vast estate. But the thought wouldn’t leave your mind. The desperate hope of freedom burned too brightly, too wildly, even as your body betrayed you.

Even as you were dragged back to that sickening place, back to the people that you convinced yourself—desperately, foolishly—that this was love.

You’d screamed at Suguru, the words spilling out like a torrent you couldn’t stop. You told him the child was yours too, that you had the right to hold them, to sleep in the same room, to be more than a vessel. Your voice cracked, raw with frustration and desperation, as you hurled your defiance at him.

You remember the way his gaze darkened.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t snap. That wasn’t Suguru’s way.

Instead, he stepped closer, his movements slow, calculated, as though he were approaching a frightened animal. He tilted his head, his expression calm, disarming, the warmth in his dark eyes a stark contrast to the undercurrent of control they held.

“You’re upset,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. His hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaking your face. “And that’s okay. You’ve been through so much, haven’t you?”

The quiet warmth in Suguru's voice made it hard to breathe, made the frustration clawing at your throat turn to something else—something like shame.

“You need to calm down,” he continued, a warm calloused hand slipping down to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I don’t want you to hurt us.”

His words lingered, heavy with meaning, as he pulled you closer, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I know it’s hard,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “But I love you. We love you. Everything we do—everything I do—is for you.”

You wanted to push him away, to scream that it wasn’t love, that this wasn’t love. But as his arms wrapped around you, strong and unyielding, pulling you into his embrace as though Suguru could shield you from the very world they had trapped you in.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured, soft lips brushing your temple. “Don’t you see that? You don’t need to run. You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”

A voice that was so tender, so achingly sincere, that it almost broke you. Suguru's words were enough to extinguish the fire of defiance burning in your chest, to leave you standing there, trembling and helpless in his arms.

The maids saw it, didn’t they? They whispered about you, their quiet voices slipping through the halls like ghosts. They called you ungrateful. Sick. They said you didn’t understand how fortunate you were.

“You should be enjoying this,” they murmured, their words laced with thinly veiled judgment. “No responsibilities, no struggles. A carefree life. Everything is taken care of for you. What more could you want?”

What more could you want?

No choices.

That’s what they meant, wasn’t it? No choices. No freedom. No you.

Was something wrong with you? Maybe.

Maybe there was something wrong with wanting more. For wanting to feel like a person again, instead of a vessel, a doll, a beautifully dressed incubator meant to carry their legacy.

It really is all your fault, isn’t it?

Because when labor came, it dragged you into hell.

Thirty-three grueling hours. Each contraction ripped through your body like a punishment, an unrelenting reminder of every fleeting thought of rebellion, of every moment you dared to imagine a life beyond them.

The emergency c-section was chaos—a flurry of hands, sterile lights, and voices rising above the incessant ringing in your ears. You were losing too much blood. Fever scorched your skin, your body trembling as the edges of the world blurred, your thoughts slipping between consciousness and darkness.

You couldn’t make sense of what was happening. You weren’t even sure whose tears streaked your skin as they fell—were they yours? Satoru’s? Suguru’s?

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know what happened after that.

All you remember are the words.

Suguru’s voice, low and steady, cutting through the haze. He leaned close, his hand resting on your clammy cheek with an almost painful tenderness. His dark eyes bore into yours, soft yet heavy with something that made your stomach twist.

“You shouldn’t have run,” he whispered. His tone was calm, soothing even, but the edge beneath it was sharp enough to draw blood. “Look at what you’ve done to yourself. You should’ve listened.”

And for a long time, you didn’t have the strength to argue.

The days that followed blurred together. Feeling like a ghost in your body, too weak to move, too tired to speak. Satoru and Suguru hovered, their gazes flickering between concern and something you couldn't quite place. The maids continued to whisper on with their rumors, their eyes darting to you with pity or disdain, as though you’d done this to yourself.

In their eyes, you were lucky.

Lucky to have survived. Lucky to have them.

And lucky, in their eyes, to not have another pregnancy until your first two boys turned five.

Five years of peace. Or something that resembled it.

Five years of watching your sons grow, of hearing their first words, of feeling their small, warm arms wrap around you as they giggled into into your neck. Five years where it was almost believable that this was normal, where you could almost convince yourself this was love.

Because it did feel like love, didn’t it?

Until the day you overheard Suguru speaking to them.

His voice was hushed, but not hushed enough.

“Mommy is sick,” he said, tone calm and soothing like he was explaining a simple fact of life. “Sometimes she says things she doesn’t mean. Sometimes she gets confused. But that’s okay. We love her, don’t we?”

A pang sent through your chest, breath catching as you froze in the hallway. Those cruel words lies carved like knives, each one slicing deeper than the last.

He was planting seeds, wasn’t he?

Teaching them to see you the way he wanted them to see you. Fragile. Dependent. Broken.

However with fists clenched, nails pressing into palms with a sting sharp enough to ground the swirling emotions within. The urge to scream hovered at the edge, to cry and storm into the room, demanding explanations with the desperation of a cornered animal. Words burned on the tip of the tongue—protests that it wasn’t true, that sickness and confusion weren’t the chains binding this existence.

But what would they believe?

Suguru’s steady, patient voice, rich and even, always laced with quiet authority? The father whose dark eyes always seemed to understand everything, who carried himself with calm, unshakable control, even when his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes?

Or you?

The mother who had tried to run, who had collapsed and bled and screamed, who had been scolded for her defiance. The one they saw as weak, frail, and ungrateful.

You wanted to run again. The thought burned in the back of your mind, relentless and wild.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Because, in the end, what choice did you really have?

But by the time your third child—a sweet boy who looked like a perfect blend of you and Suguru—turned three, the illusion of peace began to crack.

Suguru was already leaning close, his voice soft and coaxing as he murmured into your ear, “I think it’s time we try for a girl.”

Satoru, of course, was on board almost immediately.

After all, your third child was different. A nonsorcerer, just like you, showing none of the abilities your first two boys possessed. Those two had cried in the dead of night, their small voices trembling with fear as they described the horrors only they could see—things you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But that wasn’t why your husbands looked at Kiyoshi with quiet disapproval.

It wasn’t his lack of cursed energy that made them see him as an anomaly.

It was his heart.

From the moment Kiyoshi was placed in your arms, red-faced and wailing, he clung to you with a desperation that never faded. He didn’t want the maids to hold him, didn’t toddle after Suguru’s composed steps or reached for Satoru’s strong arms. He wanted you. Always you.

He was a mama’s boy through and through, and that was love.

A love so pure it felt like a lifeline in the suffocating world you’d been forced into.

While you loved your first two boys deeply—how could you not?—there was always a distance there, a reflection of the walls your husbands had built around you. The first two cuddled into your lap, their small hands clutching yours as they whispered things that broke you.

“Mommy, we want you to get better.” “We don’t like it when you yell at Daddy to let you leave.”

They were too young to understand, too innocent to see the chains tightening around you.

But Kiyoshi understood, in his own way. Even as a toddler, he refused to leave your side, refused to let the maids or his fathers pull him from your arms. He was always on your hip, his little hand clutching your clothes, his head resting against your chest.

“Kiyoshi,” Satoru had said once, his tone laced with false amusement, “means ‘pure sadness.’ Don’t you think that’s fitting?”

He smiled as if it were a joke, but you could hear the bitterness beneath it.

And maybe it was fitting.

Because Kiyoshi only stopped wailing when he was in your arms, as if he already knew the world outside of you was too cruel, too cold.

By the time he turned three, Kiyoshi would toddle after you in the gardens, small, sturdy legs working hard to keep up. His face—a blend of Suguru’s gentleness and your warmth—would brighten with the purest smile. When his eyes crinkled at the corners, just like yours, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell.

“Look, Mommy!” he’d say, holding up a flower he’d plucked from the garden, his tiny fingers dirt-stained and clumsy. “For you!”

You’d crouch down, brushing his dark hair back as you took the flower, your voice soft and tender in a way you hadn’t heard in years.

“Thank you, my sweet boy.”

And for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Like you could breathe again.

But you knew better.

As the sound of approaching footsteps always shattered moments like these. Heavy and far too familiar. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Suguru.

His softspoken voice broke the fragile silence, calm and even, as always. “Kiyoshi,” he said, warm and affectionate, though laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’ve been keeping your mother all to yourself again, haven’t you?”

Kiyoshi stiffened at your side, the little hand tightening its grip on your kimono as he glanced nervously toward Suguru.

Suguru stepped closer and crouched down to Kiyoshi’s level, dark eyes softening as they met his son’s. “Come here, son,” he murmured, holding out a hand. His tone was gentle, coaxing, but there was an unspoken expectation beneath it. “Let Daddy hold you for a little while. I’ve missed you.”

But Kiyoshi didn’t move. His small fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your kimono, his face pressing into your side as though trying to make himself small, invisible.

Suguru’s gaze flicked to you, lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So shy,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of amused affection. “But you don’t have to be, Kiyoshi. Daddy just wants to hold you. You know that, don’t you?”

You felt your heart clench, torn between the instinct to shield him and the weight of Suguru’s presence. The tenderness in his tone, in the way his hand remained outstretched, made it all the harder to breathe.

“Kiyoshi,” Suguru said again, his voice dipping into a firmer edge, calm but unyielding. “Come.”

Reluctantly, your little boy let go of you, his steps slow and hesitant as he moved toward his father. Suguru’s smile widened, soft and reassuring, as he scooped Kiyoshi up effortlessly, cradling him with a gentleness that felt too deliberate, too controlled.

“There’s my good boy,” he murmured, brushing Kiyoshi’s hair back with careful fingers. His touch lingered, as though committing the texture to memory. “You love your mommy very much, don’t you?”

Kiyoshi nodded silently, his small face burying itself in Suguru’s shoulder.

Suguru’s gaze lifted to meet yours, a gentle smile, his tone almost playful. “You’ve spoiled him,” he said, a note of amusement threading through his words. “He’s too attached.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to say something, but the words caught in your throat.

What could you say?

That you were the only warmth in a world that terrified him? That his attachment wasn’t a flaw, but a desperate grasp at something safe?

Satoru appeared not long after, his presence impossible to ignore as he strolled into the garden, hands in his pockets and a grin that seemed too bright for the moment. His eyes, however, betrayed something softer—something that lingered only when they landed on you.

“Kiyoshi giving you trouble again?” Satoru's voice came out light, tinged with curiosity.

“No trouble,” Suguru replied smoothly, a hand still resting on Kiyoshi’s small back. “Just a little too fond of his mother.”

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head as he moved closer. His cerulean gaze flicked briefly to Kiyoshi before returning to you, that playful grin softening as he moved to brush a kiss against your temple. “Well, can you blame him?” he murmured, his voice low, meant only for you. “You’re hard not to love.”

The warmth of his affection made your heart twist, and your stomach flutter. For a moment, it was easy to forget the way his words often carried double meanings, easy to believe he was simply being sweet.

He straightened, turning his attention back to Suguru with a teasing smile. “But we’ll fix that soon enough, won’t we?”

They didn’t mean to hurt him, you told yourself. They wouldn’t.

But you knew better.

Because Kiyoshi was different. He didn’t fit into their world the way your first two boys did. And in their eyes, difference was something to be controlled.

For now, they let him cling to you. They let him toddle after you in the garden, offering flowers and dirt-streaked smiles that made your heart ache with both love and dread. For now, they allowed him to stay close, to hold onto the warmth you gave him, to believe he was safe in your arms.

But you knew it was only a matter of time.

Because your sons didn’t belong to you. Not really. They never had.

And no matter how much you wanted to shield Kiyoshi, no matter how fiercely you loved him, you knew one simple, devastating truth:

They’d let you have this for now.

But they would take him, too.

Because, after all, it’s all your fault.

For fleeing in the middle of the night.

The day was supposed to be perfect—a rare moment where Satoru and Suguru had taken the older two boys to the school, their voices filled with excitement as they promised to teach them more about the world they were destined to inherit. Your sweet boys kissed you goodbye with a tenderness that felt almost cruel, leaving you behind with Kiyoshi in the quiet, sprawling estate.

You had been on your best behavior. Smiling more, laughing when Satoru teased you, letting Suguru hold you a little longer than usual. You’d made them believe you were finally settling, finally accepting your role in their carefully constructed world.

And it worked.

So when the sun set and the house fell silent, you made your move.

You bundled Kiyoshi up in the softest blanket you could find, the small body warm and sleepy against your chest. He stirred only slightly as you slipped out of the estate, his tiny hands clutching onto your clothes.

He didn’t cry.

He didn’t make a sound.

It was as if he understood. As if even at three years old, he knew that silence was the only thing keeping you safe.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his soft breaths warm against your skin, and you couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes.

The highway stretched out before you, an endless black ribbon under the faint glow of the moon. The lights of the city sparkled in the distance, a beacon of hope, a promise of sanctuary.

You walked for miles, the cold night air biting at your skin, legs aching with every step. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not with the faint echoes of paranoia whispering at the back of your mind.

Were they already looking for you? Did Satoru sense you slipping away even from miles away? Did Suguru wake in the middle of the night with the suffocating weight of intuition, already calling for their forces to track you down?

You didn’t know.

And you didn’t care.

The city limits were closer now, the glow of neon lights growing brighter, sharper. The faint hum of life and sound buzzed in the distance.

Kiyoshi stirred in your arms, his little head lifting just enough to peek out at the world around him. His dark eyes, so much like Suguru’s but filled with an innocence his father could no longer claim, glanced up at you with quiet curiosity.

“Mommy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of the wind.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, your tears wetting his soft hair. “We’re almost there, my sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice trembling under the weight of hope and fear. “Just a little farther.”

Sanctuary was so close you could taste it.

But it’s all your fault, isn’t it?

Born a nonsorcerer.

Blind to the horrors that lurk unseen. Powerless to fight them off. Too weak to keep that sweet little boy safe.

You always imagined curses as massive, grotesque creatures—monsters so obvious that the very air would change in their presence. That the world would stop, that everything would smell of death and decay as they loomed closer.

But when a curse appears, nothing changes.

There’s no warning. No shift in the wind.

The only thing you feel is the sudden weight of your child going limp in your arms.

And then the blood.

And then the blood.

It coats the ground—dark and endless, pooling around your knees and seeping into the cracks of the earth. Sticky and warm, it clings to trembling hands, staining your kimono, your skin, your very soul.

You can’t move. Can’t breathe.

Your little boy—your Kiyoshi—lies limp in your arms, his small body growing colder with every agonizing second. Tiny fingers, once so eager to cling to you, now dangle lifelessly. His dark lashes rest softly against pale cheeks, unmoving.

He looks like he’s sleeping.

You tell yourself that, over and over, as if saying it enough times will somehow make it true. Shaking hands brush back his dark hair, trembling as you whisper his name. Softly at first, then louder, your voice splintering with every syllable.

“Kiyoshi… wake up, baby. Please.”

But nothing changes.

The world around you feels wrong—too quiet, too still. The city lights in the distance mock you, their glow a cruel reminder of the sanctuary you’d been so close to reaching. You’d promised him, hadn’t you? Promised that everything would be okay. That you’d make it there. That you’d keep him safe.

You lied.

“Kiyoshi,” you choke out again, pressing a desperate kiss to his cooling forehead. Hot tears streak down your face, wetting his soft hair as you clutch him tighter, as though you could anchor him to you—keep him here, with you.

A wail tears through the night, raw and broken, shattering the oppressive silence. The sound is unrecognizable, guttural and full of despair. It takes a moment before you realize it’s coming from you.

The blood stains everything—your hands, your clothes, the ground—but it’s the loss of his warmth that destroys you.

How did this happen?

Your mind races, replaying the moments in broken fragments. You’d been walking, your legs aching, his small body cradled against your chest. He’d been so quiet, so trusting, his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

You were almost there.

Then the air shifted—just slightly—a subtle wrongness you hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

You didn’t see it.

You didn’t even know it was there until his body jerked in your arms, a sharp, unnatural movement that stole his breath—and yours.

And then he went limp.

It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.

You rock him back and forth, tears falling freely, your voice hoarse as you beg him to wake up. Leaning to press your cheek against his, murmuring his name over and over, as if the sound alone could bring him back.

Because you failed him.

Because this is your fault.

Suguru’s arms wrap around you, their weight unbearable. His warmth presses against the chill of the night, suffocating in a way that makes the air harder to pull into your lungs. He cradles you like something precious, something fragile—like he cares, even as his words twist the knife deeper into your chest.

“We’ll take care of this, just like always,” he says, his voice soft, almost gentle. His lips brush against your hair, lingering, and the tenderness in the gesture makes your skin crawl. “You just need to stop fighting us. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Satoru stood frozen, head bowed, white hair catching the faint glow of the city lights. Kiyoshi’s lifeless body was pressed tightly against him, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he held him close. For a moment, you thought you saw something crack in his expression—something raw, something human.

But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

When he finally turned his gaze to you, his blue eyes were as hollow as you’d ever seen them. “You shouldn’t have done this,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual teasing lilt. “Why couldn’t you just stay?”

The question stabbed deeper than you thought possible, the shame and guilt coursing through you like poison.

Why couldn’t you just stay?

The image of Kiyoshi’s bright smile flashed, his tiny hands offering you flowers from the garden, his laugh ringing out like music in the suffocating silence of the estate. He’d been your light, your tether to something good.

And now he was gone.

Because of you.

You sagged further into Suguru’s hold, the fight draining out of you entirely. The tears wouldn’t stop, falling silently now, soaking into the front of Suguru’s shirt as he held you tighter.

“There, there,” he murmured, his hand stroking your hair in slow, deliberate motions. “That’s better. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’ll make it right.”

But there was no right in this.

The car waited nearby, its door open like an unspoken command. Suguru’s grip on you didn’t waver as he began guiding you toward it, his movements gentle but unrelenting. Satoru followed behind, cradling Kiyoshi’s small form like he was made of glass.

Your legs moved on instinct, numb and heavy, the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.

The city lights grew fainter as the car doors shut behind you, locking you away from the world you’d been so close to reaching.

You told yourself you’d tried. That you’d done everything you could.

But deep down, you knew.

You’d never escape them.

And as Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, as Satoru’s empty gaze lingered on the horizon, you realized something that hollowed you out completely.

It wasn’t just that you had nothing left.

It was that you no longer cared to try.

It really was all your fault.

[crownmemes]

Sad Sentences, Vol. 3

(Sad sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I just want my mind to quit so I can finally fall asleep."

"I did do the right thing, didn't I?"

"How can a frog tell a swan that he loves her?"

"I find I have no real legacy."

"I can't be something I'm not."

"I haven't known pleasure for quite some time."

"People keep telling me it wasn't my fault. I know they're just saying it to shut me up."

"I just wanted what everyone wants..."

"There's something I don't want to talk about but can't get of my head."

"I wish I was capable of more."

"I know what it's like to be abandoned - how you think you're worthless and unlovable, and your heart hardens to the person who did it to you."

"I wanted to love her..."

"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood."

"You can't help me. No one can help me."

"When did we ever have a real conversation? We were always avoiding what we actually wanted to say."

"You know, there's some wounds that are just too painful ever to be reopened."

"New beginnings only lead to painful ends."

"I'd like to prove that I'm capable of something more."

"Is a little while over yet? Because I can't bear the thought of you hating me still."

"I don't know how I can forgive you for this."

"I've thought about this moment so many times - all the things I would say to you if I ever saw you again."

"Why am I letting you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry it's so late. I didn't know where else to go."

"I know I'm not well, but I'm alright."

"Will you please stop trying to pick a fight with me?"

"I'm not the person you think I am."

"You might end up not liking me very much..."

"I've destroyed a lot of things in my life, including the people most precious to me."

"I want my old life back..."

"I feel ashamed of how I've treated you."

"I'm so scared that I've just got you back and now I'm going to lose you again."

"The whole world is a cage when you're trapped in it alone."

"You can't save everybody."

"I have to hate you a little, just for a little while."

"You must be so lonely."

"Lying to yourself about love never works."

"They don't have words for how I feel."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"I get the feeling you're not used to anyone taking care of you."

"Do you know what it's like not to be able to trust your own eyes?"

"God is a spectator. He just reads the box scores."

"Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings."

"I don't know what to do..."

"Look, we've all done things we're not proud of. We all have secrets."

[realredbanana]

Idk if anyone’s already written about how much I’m Your Man by Mitski fits RanWan (Mo Ran’s pov), but it hasn’t left my brain in a while so.

(Purple bold = lyric quote, blue italics = book quote)

Lyrics/Explanations:

You’re an angel,

I’m a dog.

Or you’re a dog,

And I’m your man.

　‘You’re an angel, I’m a dog’, reads to me as almost like saying ‘you’re kind/gentle, I’m vicious/violent’, relating the bad things that can be related to dogs to themself, meanwhile ‘or you’re a dog, and I’m your man’ reads to me as them calling the other senselessly loyal, to the point that the person sees them as, almost, foolish. The first bit really reminds me of the way that Mo Ran sometimes compares himself to an aggressive stray dog who almost can’t help but bite anything that gets too close, and the second bit reminds me of when Mo Ran said “Chu Wanning, you truly are a fool. You’re the greatest person in the world, and me? My hands are stained with blood, even death wasn’t merciful”. Mo Ran thinks himself to be a terrible person who’s undeserving of love, yet Chu Wanning loves him anyway.

You believe me like a god,

I destroy you like I am.

　‘You believe me like a god’, Chu Wanning consistently loved and believed in the goodness within Mo Ran almost ‘like a god’ would: unconditionally. ‘I destroy you like I am’, first of all, makes me assume ‘like I am’ means ‘like I am a god’, which reminds me of the fact that Mo Ran gave himself the title of ‘Taxian-jun’, with ‘Taxian’ meaning ‘trampling on immortals’ (iirc) Also, as Taxian-jun he ‘destroys’ (read: humiliates, tortures and, eventually, kills) Chu Fei in his misguided desire to humiliate him to “avenge Shi Mei’s death”. He, like “a god”, destroyed the one who loved and believed in him ‘like a god’.

I’m sorry I’m the one you love,

No one will ever love me like you again.

　As I mentioned earlier, Mo Ran seems to see himself as fundamentally unlovable, and at times thinks Chu Wanning a fool for loving him, so while I don’t necessarily relate this to any specific scene or another, I do think it fits Mo Ran’s mental state. Although, I could possibly see it fitting Mo Ran as the flower’s starting to really take hold, almost preemptively apologising for what he knows will come?

So, when you leave me, I should die.

I deserve it, don’t I?

　Honestly, this kind of reminds me of that scene during the time that Chu Wanning is dead, when Mo Ran is sick and he’s hallucinating that Chu Wanning is there to bring light for him, and he basically begs Chu Wanning not to abandon him, and then eventually says “Shizun, if someday you don’t want me anymore, please just kill me; don’t throw me away. It hurts too much to be discarded again and again. I’d rather die…” (that scene destroyed me). Alternatively, Taxian-jun killing himself because he couldn’t deal with Chu Fei’s death.

I can feel it getting near,

Like flashlights comin’ down the way.

One day, you’ll figure me out,

I’ll meet judgement by the hounds.

　‘One day, you’ll figure me out’, makes me think of Mo Ran realising that, some day, Chu Wanning will have to know about the almost unspeakably horrific things Mo Ran did to him as Taxian-jun in their past lifetime, and ‘I’ll meet judgement by the hounds’ reminds me of Mo Ran admitting to his crimes at the Tianyin Pavilion.

People always gave me love,

Others were never to blame, after all.

　These lines don’t really fit, given the fact that it genuinely wasn’t Mo Ran’s fault that he ended up as Taxian-jun and hurt so many people as a result of that, however, they could potentially fit with Mo Ran’s guilt (even then I’m iffy about it fitting, because Mo Ran acknowledges that it was at least partially the people around him who caused him to end up the way he did).

You believe me like a god,

I betray you like a man.

　Same kind of thing applies from the previous ‘You believe me like a god, I destroy you like I am’. Maybe combined with some ~ Mo Ran-typical self-hatred issues ~

[romanoffsbish]

Dialogue Prompt List 2.0

Angst/Fluff/Smut/ H/C prompts listed. (18+)

— = Y/N or Character

I write wlw exclusively, but feel free to rearrange gendered pronouns for your fics. ❤️

Angst

“What the fuck told you this was a good plan, hm?” / “I just wanted to do something nice for you…” / “Yeah, well you failed!”

“Me? Love you? *incredulous laughter* Look, I know you live in delusion most days, but this is ridiculous. You’re unlovable —.”

“So this was just a game to you, why?” / “I always loved a challenge, but it turned out you were an easy catch, I’m bored now.”

“Making me fall in love with you when you never intended to stay was cruel, —.” / “I told you from the start I’d only break your heart —.” / “I thought you were joking since you slept with me an hour later!” / “Yeah, that’s where you made a mistake. You chose to be foolish and entangle the heart where it never had a chance to thrive.”

“This is all your fucking fault —!” … “You never should’ve come here, you are clearly only capable of making things worse.”

Fluff

“Please tell me there isn’t something on my face —?” / “What?” / “You’re staring…” /“oh, no, I just got lost in your eyes for a second. You’re just so mesmerizing.”

“Hey —!” / “Hey —(nickname/term of endearment), what’s got you so excited, hm?” / “I’m about to ask my crush out…” / “Oh, um, I wish you the best of luck.” / *awkward obvious silence* / “Hey —.” / “Yeah?” *soft/sad whisper* / “Are you free tonight? Say 6? I scored tickets to the local game.” / “Wait, I thought.” *pause of realization* “Oh my gosh, you like me?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the prettiest eyes?” / *Person B rolls them* “Only you, about a hundred times.” / *Person A chuckles nervously* “Well it’s the truth, I have never been lost and found all in one go. But whenever I look into them thats what happens.” / “Yet you haven’t asked me out.” / “I believe in the long game —, I would never want to rush our forever.”

“Stop it!” / “Stop what” / “Looking at me like I’m all you’ll ever want. It’s unfair.” / “How so?” / “Because it gives me hope.” / “Have you ever considered it’s not hope, but a sign that you should go out on a date with me tonight.” / “Oh…” / *Person B winks* “I’ll pick you up at 7 sweetheart.”

“I adore —, but it’s definitely a bit one sided.” / “That’s it, we’re taking you for an eye exam, clearly you’ve gone blind.” / “This isn’t funny, I love them so much—, but...” / *Person B interrupts A’s pity party* “Hey Y/N!” * R looks up and hums with a warm smile, as her eyes cast over to Person A / Person B smirks at the visible proof.* / “— wants you to meet her on the roof tonight, wear your evening best.” / “Oh, why? I-is this a date?” / *Person A went to speak, to shut it down but B confirms in an instant. R’s eyes widen, and then she squeals a yay before leaving* / “See —? I expect to be the maid of honor.”

Smut

“Meet me in my room in five…” / “Why?” / “So I can make those pretty eyes of yours roll to the back of your head silly girl…”

“Tell me how badly you want it sweetie.” / “Bad enough that I’d let you fuck me raw.”

“We’re leaving.” / “What? Why? I’m having fun!” / “We can have fun at home —.” / “I’m not going —.” / “Fine, then I guess I’ll just have to fuck you here in front of everyone. Maybe then they’ll finally know who you belong to, and you’ll also remember.”

“I am studying —, I can’t take any breaks.” / *takes your caffeine source* “Honey, that’s precisely the problem, you are overworking yourself, and you need mommy to wipe your brain of thought.”

“Take it off, please.” / “You turned a blind eye to my advances —, so you can remain in the dark as I fuck you senseless too.”

Hurt / Comfort

“—, you need to get out of bed, it’s been weeks…” / “It’s okay —, you don’t have to pretend to care.” / “I’m not, so please, let me care for you until you can do it for yourself.” / *timid whispers* “okay…”

“Hey —, do you think I’ll ever find love?” / “Where is this coming from —? Of course you will.” / “Then why haven’t I? The unsavory truth is simple—I’m unlovable.” / “No, it’s because you haven’t noticed me…”

“You belong here —.” / “The team doesn’t seem to agree” *while packing a duffle / “Last time I checked the team was made up of idiots with ego-stroking agendas. The last thing we need is to lose one of the few genuinely selfless souls.” … “Not that that means what you did was right. It’s just also not the end of the world either. It’s okay.”

“Are you okay?” / “No.” / “How can I fix that?” / “I don’t think I can be fixed.” / “How about you let me try? I’ll remind you everyday just how loved you are. I can’t imagine a world without you —, so please let me be here for you so I never have to.”

“What’s wrong?” / “It’s all gray now.” / “What is?” / “The world. Nothing fits. It’s all just catastrophe and chaos. I feel so lost.” / “Sometimes being lost is a good thing.” / “How so?” / “It’s merely a sign to tell you that your path needs rerouting dear, it’s how evolution remains possible. This isn’t the end you see, it’s only just the beginning of something new.” / “I really like that.” / “I like you” (cheesy little kiss to follow 🥹)

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

I seriously cannot with this woman.

You raised a fucking murderer. So what if you had a difficult delivery? Does this entitle her to kill people? Good for Gu Tingye, somebody should have stabbed her ages ago.

I just love how SHOCKED all these evildoers are that her privilege of rank didn't protect her. However, the only reason it did not protect her this time is because she overextended herself and went after someone of her own class, or arguably, even more powerful than her.

***

LMFAOOOO

I can't believe she is refusing to get involved! Because what a perfect opportunity to strike at Gu Tingye!

***

I love how their biggest grievance remains that they were not allowed to cover up her crimes this time around.

They are not even the least bit concerned about the fact that they raised a narcissistic psychopath who sowed countless misery for as long as she lived.

Anway, eat the rich, etc. etc. etc.

They don't see anyone but themselves as people.

***

Heh.

So, she changed her mind. Predictable. She was never going to let such a juicy opportunity to cause trouble pass her by.

***

LMAO, I am actually pleased these two fools made up.

Or did they? 🤔

There are still six more episodes and plenty of trouble ahead.

***

OH MY GOD, I AM WEEPING 🤣🤣

SHE HAS A LITTLE SWORD AND EVERYTHING, ALL SET TO DEFEND HIM FROM THE BIG BAD GU TINGYE! 🤣🤣

***

He remains such a goddamned idiot.

MY GUY, DO YOU WANT A HAPPY AND PEACEFUL MARRIAGE? DON'T JUST SIT THERE STARING AT HER! REASSURE YOUR WIFE THAT YOU ARE GLAD TO BE MARRIED TO HER NOW!!

***

Well, clearly, not killing you was a mistake.

***

Oh my fucking god.

She wants to take her baby?? The audacity!

But she will not refuse, will she?

***

This poor baby.

***

Oh, lady, you gave up your son for a promotion 🙄

Also, what great fortune? She took this child not because she loves him but because she can wield him as a weapon in the future.

***

Wait, she's not going to be breastfeeding herself?

I mean, I know that nursemaids were a thing throughout history and that even Nanny Chang nursed Gu Tingye, but I'm still shocked a c-drama is going there so openly.

***

OMG 🤣🤣

My love for Shitou knows no bounds 🖤🖤

***

I am so exhausted with his nonsense 🙄

I realise that Minglan being jealous of Fengxian is supposed to be cute and character development or whatever, but I am beyond bored and annoyed by him and his made-up problems and forever pissed that he keeps bringing up Yuanruo to use against her.

Also, I may be letting my personal hang-ups cloud me here but I have literally dumped more than one guy for deliberately trying to make me jealous. Yes, I am a jealous person, yes, I have self-esteem issues, yes, my family of origin made me feel as unlovable as they possibly could and as a result, I am a people pleaser to a fault. I have so much anxiety and fear of abandonment. But no, I am not going to be contorting myself to prove that you should stay with me rather than someone else. Go fuck yourself. The moment you make me "fight" for you means I have already lost. I find it so demeaning. Go forth and chase your dreams with other women, who am I to stop you? Oh, you didn't mean it like that? Basically, you were just egging me on because you find my misery amusing and as a convenient way to boost your own ego? To manipulate me into doing things and behaving in a way that is detrimental to me but beneficial to you? How nice of you to fully go masks off at last! NOW DOUBLY GO FUCK YOURSELF.

Anyway, so many people love Gu Tingye and have told me I will surely love him too. But not only do I not love him, I don't even like him. The closer we get to the end of this show, the more repulsive I find him. In the beginning, I was still fighting so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt, but after that second Manniang debacle, I have fully given up. Plus, it has been hinted multiple times so far that he smells, so no thanks to that. If Minglan's happiness and well-being in this hellhole of a society didn't depend on his stinky ass being alive and well-off, I would not bat an eye at the Emperor beheading him.

***

Wait, they brought her in from a BROTHEL?

Look, I seriously don't want to shame people doing sex work here, but there were no condoms, antibiotics or modern medicine of any kind that would in any way have prevented STDs during this time. If I had to live in this era, I would be disgusted to sleep with a man who frequented brothels and after having sex with the women there, came home to have sex with me.

***

I keep hoping that the Emperor turning against Gu Tingye is some kind of a ploy because he is based on an IRL Emperor and China has strict rules against presenting such people in a negative light... but it seems more likely that he has simply become paranoid and lost his entire damn mind since coming to the throne.

Also, thinking back, Monarch Industry certainly portrayed the ruling royal family in the worst light imaginable, so clearly the rules are not that strict. But then again, those Emperors were not based on real people and actual historical facts (as far as I know). But there is also King's War, which absolutely dragged actual historical figures to filth, however, that drama is a bit older, so the censorship rules were probably more lax.

IDK. In any case, I'm not liking him (or any of this) much at this point.

[hughiecampbelle]

Hard To Love (Roman Roy Oneshot)

Character/s: Roman

Word Count: 1,210

Inspired By: Puke by Ava Maybee I loveeeee this song

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: This is definitely for therapy lol I hope no one minds. Ya gurl feels very unlovable atm. Idk. It stems from something someone said to me once, someone who is supposed to love me unconditionally, they said I am hard to love. Of course I forgive them, I love them, but it still stings y'know? Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Is there something wrong with me? You don't know if you’ve spoken the words or only thought about them. Either way he rocks you both back and forth, arms around you, hushing your fears. Your cheek is pressed against his chest, his heartbeat rapid, playing a tune you can’t quite name. Is there? There must be. Some innate, genetic wrongdoing. Something must be missing from you to make you this way. Sensitive. Forgotten. An easy target. They shoot their arrows into you, through you, but you always come crawling back. Always. The pain, the blood loss, the look in their eyes, none of that matters. You don’t matter. They know they can do whatever they want and you’ll cling to them like a lost child. Because they’re your family. Because they’re supposed to love you unconditionally. But they don’t. And that is not a fault on their part, but your own. You have done something to make them hate you, you have done something to make them turn on you, it is all your fault. You’ve seen them love others the way you have wanted to be loved. You have seen them be so caring, so devoted, so in love with someone it breaks you into pieces. It threatens to undo your very soul. There is something about you that is so undeserving, so unlovable, so broken that they could never fathom treating you that way. They could never see you as something to care for, to give a second thought. 

Is it my fault? No, he fights back, no, no, never. But he’s wrong, biased, blinded. You’ve done a good job fooling him. Everything is. Right? Everything, everyone’s emotions, their well-being, it’s all on you. You take care of them. You heal their wounds. You dry their eyes. And in return, you get nothing. You are forgotten. His arms grow tight around you, together, stronger, as if he thinks holding you will keep your brokenness from showing. Pieces of you slide off his lap, shattering against the ground. You want to fight against him, against his word, but you’re too tired. Exhausted. Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to fall. It can’t be like this every time. You question why you come crawling back every time, hind legs wounded, but you do it. The moment they give you a second of attention, you forget everything that has ever happened. Every unkind word. Every look. Every comment. It sticks into your hair like gum. You are so hard to love. A direct quote. Spoken to you in a moment of fury, of anger. Does that make it any easier to swallow? Does it make it any better knowing it was spoken out of frustration? No. The anger bites back, chewing you to bits and pieces. It is the hard truth, the thing that needed to be said. He knows the sensation, that sinking feeling in the pit of your chest, the expectations you’ve been carrying for this single moment deflating, dying in your arms. 

Why am I so hard to love? You whimpered through the bathroom door. What, what are you talking about? He jiggled the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. You sat with your back against the door, not letting him in. You wanted to, no you needed to be alone. To cry this out. I can’t help you if you won’t let me in. You didn’t want his help though, you didn’t feel worthy of it. You deserved to be alone, to feel alone. You were a burden, a hindrance, something people didn’t want alone. You kept running through the list in your head, all the reasons, the myriad of explanations. If they picked one, just one, maybe you could change it. Fix it. Fix you. Make yourself into something deserving of love. You pressed your face into your crossed arms, feeling small. Insignificant. He slid down to your level, speaking quietly, tenderly. You know whatever they said or did, it’s not on you. No one who loves someone would hurt them like this. Like his father. Like your family. You just shrugged, knowing he can’t see. You weren’t sure why you listened to them, why you let it get under your skin, it just did. Too sensitive, they called it, as if it were a bad thing. As if it were another reason to disregard your tears, your feelings. You never should have gone home, but you missed it, the idea of home. This grand notion that things would be different, they would be different. You always do. Hopeful, he calls it. Fucking stupid, you correct. It's naive of you to think they’d ever change, ever soften, ever share the same heart as you do. As soon as you go back you remember why you left, why you built this little life with him in your home, why you came home crying every time. 

Maybe he should have warned you. He didn’t want to dampen the mood. Roman could see how excited you were, proud to show yourself and all your achievements, no matter how small. Naming every relative, how much you missed them, how long it’s been since you’ve seen them. Maybe he should have gone with you, protected you, becoming your human shield. It wouldn’t have mattered. You wouldn’t have let him get hurt like that. They were smart in their cruelty, knowing just the right insecurities, the right buttons to push to shatter who you are inside. He watched you try on countless outfits, worried they wouldn’t like what you chose, worried you wouldn’t make the best impression. It didn’t matter what you chose in the end, they had enough choice words about your body regardless. Y/n, will you let me in? He asked softly, not moving. You let the question hang in the air, sniffling, letting yourself relax, take deep breaths. He checked your bedroom, the couch, kitchen, every nook and cranny where you might try to hide. This always happens. The disappearing act, the lack of self-worth, the hatred turn in on yourself. It’s them you should be mad at, but you can’t be. You love them too much. You need them too much to think harshly of them. The handle turns, the door creaking open. He moves with open arms which you fall into.  He doesn’t have any jokes to make it better, anything to lighten the mood, he knows better than that. Now, you need comfort. You need soothing and reassurance. Your head against his chest, the rest of you heavy with grief. You go back every time because you want to be loved the way you’re supposed to, the way all the songs and shows and movies promise you: unconditionally. And every time you’re disappointed. Because your life, this life, isn't a movie. It doesn’t have a happy ending. It just keeps going despite the heartache, despite the pain. It threatens to collapse in on you, cave in, when it gets bad. There’s no such thing as unlovable, he says to you, to himself, to the universe. Discarded like a kicked puppy. He can handle it from his father, Gerri, everyone, but you? You don’t deserve that. There’s no such thing as unlovable, he’s sure of it.

[allsadnshit]

I'm having such a spiritually and emotionally potent day just so much in my face symbolism that really takes me to a place of trust I usually need so much ushering to get to!!!

The icing on the cake was listening to a podcast episode I skipped over originally because it was about letting go of toxic relationships and I just sort of assumed it would be all about romantic partners BUT then I figured it would probably be applicable to toxic friendships too, which I've been thinking so much about, so I decided to casually listen while doing this huge load of dishes.

Honestly it got me right away being like "I know you think you're being so kind and so good by giving compassion and understanding to someone who's hurting you who you think can do better if you just love them enough, but you're wrong" and I was like alright OUCH

Cause I've been reflecting on my ex best friend and I's relationship that I (pretty obviously) really romanticize as like this soulmate level unbreakable bond and for a long time I told myself it was her boyfriends fault and that SHE would never have done those things to me if he hadn't convinced her...but that's obviously just a lie I tell myself so I don't have to stomach the grief and betrayal of recognizing she was in full control of her choices and actions. There were also so many times before he even came into the picture that she chose to ignore my feelings or boundaries or tried to persuade to have things the way she wanted, and I just always told myself I must be the bad guy cause I'm the one with the temper and ocd and so many things I see as unlovable, vs her who's flaws I always thought were just a harmless result of her pain. I know she isn't sorry and I know she doesn't try to preserve our love in her heart the way I want to, and as I listened to this podcast and really processed it's the right choice to walk away fully from each other and start loving her ONLY in the past tense instead of believing she could change and we could make up... I was gently washing the cup she gave me years ago (that I sometimes avoid using) and it broke right in my hands with little to no pressure being put in it

And I had to laugh I felt so euphoric when it happened. I love signs I am moving in the right direction because I always second guess myself no matter how sincere the feeling!!!

I finished the big load of dishes and I'm going to have a taiwanese oolong tea now and work on the art that matters to me <333

[slaythespire]

im sorry my tumblr followers who dont know me im mad rn, im just rambling mad under a readmore again thanksss

listen its not that i need to be dating someone im just chilling. in fact rn i would not want to date anyone.

but i HATEEEE HATE seeing people say shit like "You dont need anyone, you should learn to be happy without someone else in ur life! why do you need someone else! just be happy without that!" well damn sue me for wanting someone to deeply love me who i deeply love back!! why is that such a bad thing to want!! obviously if you cant function without being in a relationship that's not good, but people always say that shit to someone going "i feel unlovable and like no one will ever want me" and it feels so meanspirted!! damn!!

its been like almost a year since i got ghosted and i know its annoying to hear people complain abt the same thing over and over again. but its just HARD bcus i feel stupid, and used. i really thought my ex was like, THE person, we talked abt getting married and how we'd combine our last names, abt moving in together, supported each other through everything. when i was in inpatient this person called me almost everyday i was there to say hi and check in on me. i thought my future involved them and then they just dropped me without even an explanation. never in a million billion years did i think that would happen (outside of my bad brain telling me it would, which, well i was right so LOL) bcus they were my best friend of 8 years!!

and its scary bcus it makes me think there must be something wrong with me/"how could anyone ever love me when even the person who dated me for 6 years didnt". and people always say things like "you haven't met everyone who will care about you yet" but what if i have, and my one chance at having a relationship i was so happy in was ruined bcus the other person is a self-obsessed asshole who lied to my face abt so much for who KNOWS what reason. WHATEVER.

i feel like when i make posts like this i come off as an insane person in the "no wonder they broke up with you" way, but i promise im actually normal ive just been very emotionally ripped to shreds by a very bad breakup. barely a breakup bcus it was over TWITTER DM. whatever im just gonna be one of those people that obsesses over fictional characters so much i think were in a relationship.

i just rlly rlly wonder what their reasoning for doing this to me was and if they feel bad abt it. or if they think its funny, or if they just dont care. i also wonder if they think they can just message me one day and apologize and think itll be okay (i dont think this will happen, i used to but i dont anymore)

i lean towards they just dont care, i doubt they even think about what they did lol. i mean i HOPE they feel bad, but i dont think thats true. id be shocked if i ever heard from them again which is just, crazy. 8 years of knowing someone and it ends like that through no fault of your own. i wish i had a screenshot of the break up dm id post it in a heartbeat so anyone who actually read this far would feel whiplash like i do. (filled to the brim with "i love you so much" "i feel horrible for hurting you and i hate that im doing it" "i really care about you" "i hope you stay in my life bcus youre my best friend").

and it makes me really sad bcus OFC we would have stayed friends, i loved them so much that while id be sad abt breaking up i would still want them in my life. (WE EVEN TALKED ABT HOW IF WE BROKE UP WE ALWAYS THOUGHT WE'D STAY FRIENDS). but even in my fantasy world where they reach out after a few years all apologetic and guilty i just couldnt do it anymore.

one more but i don't understand what would compel someone to say all that knowing theyre lying and dont give a fuck about you, like it only comes off as evil and fucked up and cruel to me, so how else am i supposed to take that.

[cowboyjen68]

Hi Jen. How do I tell my wife I want to divorce? I think she’s not ready to let go of me. I know she’s not gonna take it well. Truth is I’m not ready either. But we also can’t keep this relationship going, we keep going through extremely toxic cycles and we have mutually exclusive needs with regard to place of living. I love her and want the best for her. I also love myself and I know this relationship isn’t good for me either. My mental health is really suffering from knowing that but not being able to initiate the separation. I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know how to prepare. What to expect. Please bless me with your words of wisdom and comfort ❤️

Ps Thank you. You make the internet worth it. You are like family. ❤️

I am coming from experience on this answer. My wife and I stayed together many years because each was unwilling to "hurt" the other by admitting we were no longer(if ever) attracted to each other and there was no passion or love. We were existing as a partnership for the kids, the house, finances and the emotional vulnerability of the other but never once considerering ourselves. In our desperate quest to not hurt the other person we were not recognizing the absolute truth. Neither of us were happy or fulfilled.

The hurt of rejection, of feeling unattractive, unloved was a temporary situation that we should have entered years before either of us gathered the courage to finally just say the truth. When she, the braver of us, finally just said "I don't love you and I am not attracted to you" i felt waves of relief. Even if I had been in love, Even if had physical and emotional attraction to her I would have long ago picked up her undeniable signals that something was not right.

It was scary as hell to break up with kids, the house, and 17 years of memories and AT LEAST knowing I had one person who did know all about me and had stuck around. But we decided on kindness and civility (mostly). We had our anger, our flaws, our moments of mean spiritness but mostly we just tried to untangle it all quickly and in the best interest of our family. The kids told us they were thankful we split. They had sensed the misery almost from when we met them as foster parents.

Even if she is blind sided by your admission (which I doubt she will be) if you care for her you need to give her the opportunity for find fulfillment and love from someone who is on equal emotional grounds with her. The more time you waste the more of her time to find real connection with another is lost. She might or might not find love or companionship again and that is out of your control. But continue to stay and lie about things will certianly stop her, and you, from seeking happiness either alone or partnered. You can control that much.

Say the truth. You aren't happy, something between you and her is missing and for your own well being you need to divorce. Let her know you care for her enough to not keep hanging on to a lie. She deserves the chance to find love that you cannot give her and you deserve to the same.

How she reacts is not your fault and out of your control but that unknown does not justify staying.

Be kind. Make efforts to ease fears that no one is homeless or left with nothing but that staying in the same house or with each other, even as roommates, is a temporary sitiuaton. Set some goals for selling the house, or moving. Make an appointment with a divorce lawyer if you need one. You can do your own "no contest" divorce through your local courthouse but there must be complete agreement in who gets what. You can be gentle with her but you must also protect yourself and your security.

IF she reacts poorly listen to your gut and seek legal counsel. If she reacts well work together but don't let yourself get back into a routine of "we can just put this off". The familiar is often a call to complacency. Don't put off the hard things because you are getting along.

I hope this help. Breaking up with someone who is not the right person if hard but staying until there is resentment or even hate is even harder.

[dreamcrow]

20 questions

i was tagged by several people (thank you @niemalsetwas, @babblish, and @creativenicocorner), who in doing so have conveniently eliminated many of the people i would have thought to tag myself, haha. let's see... @falling-hand-in-unlovable-hand, @eri-223, @sidhewrites, if you like? plus anyone else who would like to steal.

1.) how many works do you have on ao3?

41 posted; 0 drafts.

2.) what's your total ao3 word count?

189,246. (?!)

3.) what fandoms do you write for?

oh, ask not for whom the hyperfixation tolls. (toa, obviously.) i do have a few fics i've deleted, though, in fandoms i don't currently have any fics for. maybe i should republish them on anon? 🤔

4.) what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

in my sleep i dreamed of waking

all that dazzling dawn has put asunder

it's a lovely day in stricklake month

misc. trollhunters prompts

sophisticated/manipulated

oh...they're (almost) all str/icklake, lol. and so old! is it strange that i feel so disaffected by this? well, probably not. a good lesson in kudos being merely a measurement of "how many times people pushed the kudos button," i suppose.

5.) do you respond to comments? why or why not?

i try to! part of my general attitude of "fandom is a conversation." i worry i don't always have all the spoons to make my replies what i feel they "should" be, but i do always want to convey my gratitude for people taking the time to leave a comment at all.

6.) what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh, that's easy: notstantinoplefic! unfortunately it's not yet approached something even remotely publishable, so that probably means very little. ¯\_( ᐛ )_/¯

other than that...probably the first or second parts of minor arcana. probably the first, more than the second. skrael's chapter ends on something awful but he's about to enjoy a good bit of (however fleeting) catharis; bellroc however doesn't get any closure for what happens in their chapter until they meet nari, a couple centuries later.

7.) what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

...do i have a fic that doesn't have an ultimately happy ending? 😂 oh, i am too soft. even the horrible vicious ancient wizard gods tend to go out with full stomachs, warm beds, and someone on their side.

8.) do you get hate on fics?

i'll not lie: i have glimpsed the occasional drama from over my meticulously-curated rose hedge. but most of it seems to be from children, and for all my various weaknesses, i think i can survive being vagueblogged by people who aren't old enough to vote. if not: my anon is on ╮ (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ╭

9.) do you write smut? if so, what kind?

i am ATTEMPTING. most of the smut i've ever read has left me generally ??? baffled, glazing over, skipping through (without animus) to the next part. again, this is not the fault of the author; it's true even of things i can tell objectively are well-written, titillating, otherwise universally acclaimed. but i enjoy thinking about character exercises, and i am not completely untemptable, so this year i've been trying to make some progress on my longtime agenda of "get the horrible bird wizard railed."

...none of which is terribly apparent given that none of it is published, ofc! but. hopefully. that may change in the not-too-distant future.

10.) do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

tbh i am very picky about crossovers. but i must admit... skraelroc necro/cav au... a man is Considering

11.) have you ever had a fic stolen?

i've had people repost my art, which (as someone who does not think of himself as an even remotely skilled artist) was very surprising. but never fic.

12.) have you ever had a fic translated?

none that i know of.

13.) have you ever co-written a fic before?

the closest i've ever come is probably blue wizard boyfriends, which is inspired by some rp shenanigans between a friend and me. but even so, my take on douxie in that series has diverged quite a bit from hers! so it doesn't really feel like "cowriting."

14.) what's your all-time favorite ship?

as your #1 friendly neighborhood degenerate not-even-actually-incest pornographer, i simply must say: nothing quite hits like a ship you literally invented

15.) what's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

to be completely honest, i do still feel the occasional pang of nostalgia for my gr/avity f/4lls fic. i had a lot of world built for it, a whole sequence/interaction arc for the characters (and not just the couple). unfortunately, even this many years later—even if i never got directly harassed—the nastiness of that fandom has still left a very strong impression on me. it was the first time i think i ever saw a/ntis in action, and i don't think i have any desire to pick that story up again.

16.) what are your writing strengths?

...worldbuilding? present tense, apparently. 😂 i've also been told i have a knack for—ah, how did he put it. understated emotional closeup shots? i think of such kind comments often, haha.

17.) what are your writing weaknesses?

discipline. not using too many semicolons. recently: not using paired adjectives. mainstream fanon. not going back over published work and finding a billion small things to fix (though i'm getting better at this).

18.) thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

...mainly: "you're lucky i didn't make myself learn actual ancient egyptian for all those dumb little skraelroc shmoop fics i keep setting in ancient egypt"

otherwise? i err on the side of under-doing it, but i love doing this. i love seeing this in fic, even if it's not a language i know. it's like a little easter egg!!

19.) first fandom you wrote for?

a very old anime fandom which i will not be revealing on main. probably twenty years ago, at this point. almost certainly on ff.net.

20.) favorite fic you've ever written?

oh, i'm not sorry. i am thinking of minor arcana so often these days, but i really am pretty proud of it. even now, more than a year later! once i have the time to go through and fine-tune everything, i'm going to bind it. it's a very weird fic, probably, but one that is nevertheless (or perhaps because of this?) very dear to my heart.

[moonstruckme]

hi lovely, i am sorry for messaging you i just need a place to ramble and it feels safe to do it here, please feel free to ignore it and i hope you have a good day <3

i've been feeling a little down lately to be honest i am not sure what's going on with me, i've been just feeling lonely i guess. all those people around me get into relationships and all and i am just- here with no interest from anyone. it just makes me feel like i am the uglier one in my friendship, like i am unlovable. i am almost 20 and i didn't even kiss anyone yet and i feel like i am missing out but at the same time i feel helpless. i don't wanna be single forever but it feels like that's what i am gonna be

Note: this got so long, sorry! I had a lot to say haha

Hi sweetness, please don't apologize! I'm glad you feel like you can vent here and I'm so sorry you're feeling down :(

I know it sounds silly and a bit obvious, but there's no time limit on those experiences. I didn't have my first kiss until a few months ago, and I was really insecure about it. It felt like everyone I knew had "gotten it over with" when we were fourteen or fifteen, but I later came to find out that it's a lot more common than I thought to wait until later! Several of my good friends (which is to say, people that I might not have found this out about if we weren't close) haven't kissed anyone before, and we're all in our early twenties. I've also never been in a relationship, and on my sadder days have felt like people just don't see me as "relationship material." But the older I get and the more of my friends I see going through the same thing, the less true that feels. I know my friends to be beautiful and loveable, so I know this lack of romantic love is (while still a mystery to me) definitely not their fault. I think that reasoning applies to all of us.

Nineteen feels so young to me now (I say from the ripe old age of twenty two), and while I can't promise with 100% certainty that you'll be in a relationship soon, you definitely have plenty of time to get there. I can tell you without even knowing you personally that you are loveable, not only because you seem like a sweet and kindhearted person, but also because you have friends and maybe also family who cares about you. Romantic love is far from the only kind (or even the most gratifying kind) of love, and especially at our age, so many people are still trying to figure out who they are and may not have figured out who they want to love in that way yet. It's not a reflection of you. Lots of the time, I think it's just dumb luck.

I don't think there's any right way to go about these things, and you can only really find the way that works for you through experience, but I'd caution you against rushing into a relationship because you're feeling lonely. I only say that because I've had friends get into relationships for that reason and later regret it when they find they've attatched themselves so hurriedly to someone they don't even really like all that much. You are more than enough sweetheart, and whether you choose to be by yourself for the time being or you do find someone to be with romantically, that fact will not change. You are lovely, and kind, and deserving of love in each of its forms.

Sorry this got so long, but I hope you start to feel better soon honey. Also, I recently read Dolly Alderton's memoir called Everything I Know About Love and found it really interesting and insightful, so I'd recommend it if that's your thing. Hope your day gets better sweetheart <3

[bittercandysweetrain]

Tokyo revengers x reader with mental illness Draken {Pt1}

Illness - Bipolar disorder 

(warning mention of suicide, drug use) 

(y/n)'s pov - I am Bipolar I've had it for a long time now. I hate people who romanticize it like it's such a dream to have. They love the intensity of it they love the mania because they love excitement. that's why movies always have those doped up people their life like there is no tomorrow. As if it's something so simple to handle but it’s exhausting. it's tiring to be in your own skin, the best I can describe it is having a high nothing can compare to. you feel Invincible have you ever seen a picture of a club aesthetic a hazy picture or a person dancing and having fun the night will never end. you do things and say things that could be very unintentional your not thinking of the next day you make promises you can’t keep. To do things you regret fucking who you want putting yourself in danger cause it gives you a rise and your at the highest peak of everything you could ever reach. and suddenly you crash hard falling from the heavens you become this person you don't even know. smiling hurts, laughing hurts, being awake hurts. constant thoughts of how worthless I am fill my mind, I am unloved, unwanted, alone, and I deserve to sleep forever or die. seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks turn into one giant mix up that I don't keep track of. Did I sleep for two days? was I awake for four? did I shower? did I eat? am I alive? that's all I feel but amongst all that I wish people would understand It isn't a decision it's not like I wanted this, I can't just make it go away.

Author's pov - (y/n) walked next to Inui dressed nicely it had been the first time in a while that she had been out. suffering from her lows for four months now she finally started to hit her highs. "Where are you taking me Inui?" she asked "I want you to meet someone," he said "eh? why?" she asked "because he is my friend and you owe him an apology," he said. "an apology for what?" she asked clicking her arms with his "for punching him on new years eve." Inui said "New years? I didn't punch anyone the hell are you talking about I was dancing with someone had a few drinks made snow angels snowball fight and Uh?" "let me correct you before the 31st you went on a drinking binge remember you got kicked out of 2 clubs. I told you to meet me on the rooftop for the new years eve party you came high on coke yes you were dancing and it was all fun until you wanted to dance on the edge of the rooftop. Draken pulled you down twice and the second time you were mad and punched him in the face. After you made snow angels in the parking lot. tried trading your panties for mitsuya's bike which you ended up stealing. you didn't get far but yes we had a snowball fight until you threw a shoe at takemichi and bruised his eye." he said "also you got mouthy with Mikey you called him a midget" he said before showing up to the Garage.

Draken opened the door seeing Inui and (y/n) "Hell no" he said trying to close the door "wait she is here to apologize" Inui said. (y/n) crossed her arms "I never said I was" she said "(y/n)" Inui gave her a warning tone (y/n) sighed she loved inui he was her best friend and the only one who stuck around in her moments "Okay, okay." she said Draken let the two in Inui sat down on the couch while (y/n) took a look around at the photos and stuff. Draken walked over with some drinks setting them down on the table "(y/n)" Inui called over he usually acted like a older brother sometimes a father when need be. (y/n) walked over sitting next to him "well Inui tricked me to come here but I will apologize for" she dragged the word on as she looked at Inui trying to remember what she did wrong. "punching him in the face on new years eve." he said, "Punching you in the face on new years eve even though it is your fault" (y/n) said. Draken stared at her blankly. "how was it my fault? I was just trying to keep you from falling over the damn railing" Draken said sternly. "so" (y/n) said "so?" Draken asked "who cares if I would have fallen" she said. "Do you really think no one would care." Inui looked down getting up his hand and bawled into a fist. slamming his hand on the nearby wall "h-how could you say something like that I would fucking care!" he shouted, "if you died I would definitely care your my best friend!" he shouted, "we have so many memorable days spent together!" he shouted before pausing he looked at her empty eyes just she gave him a sweet smile to reassure him "your not in your highs yet are you." he asked (y/n) remained silent as she sipped her hot drink. Draken glanced at Inui he had heard many stories about (y/n) especially when it came to him dealing with her depressive episodes. "I wouldn't want you to die" Draken said as he sipped his own drink "honestly even though you punched me it was nothing really, I've been punched countless times you made that night pretty memorable." he said with a smile "Inui always talks about you and that night wasn't the first time I met you. we actually clubbed together a few times that's why I didn't want you to fall it would be really boring you remind me of someone I use to hang out with all the time. you kind of took his place and it made me really happy." draken said

(y/n)'s pov - Sometimes the haze can make your brain foggy. Like with the time jumbling all together everything around me did as well. I thought I was getting better I was looking forward to those highs. I wanted to die, I really did I was blindly following Inui cause I don't have the strength to make my own decisions. this man who I don't remember who do I feel different I feel content around you Draken who are you?

[olivereliocorcordium1983]

You know after all that shit I am very surprised but at the same time not considering the type of person Armie is that they have joint custody of those babies. She put him though absolute hell and he still allowed her to see these kids.

So she better be fucking lucky she even got that because if someone ever did that to me. I wouldn't be able to do it, I don't care if she was the mother of my kids or not.

You don't get to ruin a person entire life and get what you want life don't work that way. but I have a feeling she isn't going to listen to the courts anyway since she is all about herself.

she will still find ways to take pics of them, she will still find ways to bring her BTs around those kids.

But the only thing that I can completely agree on is the no partners around the children until x amount of time. that is seriously important especially for the kids at the age they are.

No parent should be dragging a person they sleep with around their child period. A parent should have their child's interest at heart first instead of their own.

I speak from experience. my parents got divorced when I was 3 years old but my dad cheated on my mom with 18, 19 year olds!!!! while they were still together then left her for one after he emotionally, and verbally abused her.

When I would go to his house he would drag all these women around me (not at one time he isn't Heffner) but whoever he was dating at the time he would drag me around them, I would get attached to them thinking they would stay just for them to disappear months later.

Then I would think it was my fault just for another one to be dragged in and let the same shit happen. when you do this to a child you are teaching them that once people are done with you they will leave you. That you do not care about their feelings and how it's going to effect them in the long run.

As an adult now I've had ex friends and people who I thought were potential partners emotional, verbally abuse me, use me to get whatever they wanted when they met me and then leave just like those women did.

It warped my sense of the world and gave me the attitude to never get close to anyone ever again because they will use you and leave. That people will hurt you intentionally, that no one wanted me.

DO NOT DO THAT TO YOUR CHILDREN. PLEASE.

All children want from the time they are born is YOU. they want to love YOU and be loved by YOU, they want to play with YOU. They are all about YOU. they should never be made to feel unloved, unwanted, and no respected as the person they are all because you think they need another adult in their life, or because you think you need to get your pussy/dick wet. um, no your ass better be all about that baby.

you decided to have one it's your responsibility to take care of it. it's not about you anymore it's all about that baby, and if you're not all about that baby then some of you don't need to be parents.

But narcissistic people don't give a fuck about anyone but themselves and their feelings, how you can make their life better or benefit their life until they have no use for you anymore.

example: my uncle died in 2012 my dad shows up with his new girlfriend and her three children. one of those children being a teenage girl. I am at the hospital with my mom and a few other family members who I have not seen in forever and my dad is sitting there with them.

this teenager puts her hand on my dad's thigh his THIGH we are talking up close to his junk and keeps it there! he does not move her hand, he does not tell her stop as adults should do when something inappropriate is going on. he LETS HER DO THIS!

fast-forward to the funeral my dad sits up at the front with this bitch and I sit in the back with my mom, my ex stepmom, my half sisters (yes he did that too one before marriage one after no I was never invited to the wedding though I wouldn't have gone anyway cuz that's not my thing.) and he comes to where we are sitting and acknowledges my half sisters but doesn't say anything to me.

Then when it comes time to go to the grave sight and lay my Tio to rest. my stepmom was like "go hug your dad" so I go over there and do it thinking something will change and it doesn't.

it's like hugging a brick wall and he looks at me and goes "Birthname say hi." meaning say hi to my new girlfriend.

very sarcastically I look at this woman and I say "hi" what I wanted to say was "hi I'm the first kid that he doesn't care about so... if you honestly think he gives a damn about you, you're gonna learn your just another play thing for him to play with until he tries to mold you into whatever he wants you to be and throw you away.

Come to find out guys, HE NEVER TOLD THIS WOMAN ABOUT ME! SHE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW I EXISTED! AT ALL UNTIL SHE SAW ME AT THE FUNERAL!

and I say all of this because what Liz did to her children pissed me the fuck off. I don't give a damn if you are "lonely" or you think you are "lonely" YOU ARE NOT LONELY BITCH!!!! YOU HAD TWO BEAUTIFUL BABIES WHO WANT YOUR LOVE AND ATTENTION!!!

From the moment the divorce got final and even while they were going through that shit she should have never had partners that is basically your time to be alone and spend your time with your kids, to be 100% about them.

To teach them how to be a decent human being, to teach them they are loved and that they are cared about by you and that they are your everything. not to drag your children into your adult bullshit all because you don't want to be lonely!

That is why I don't feel sorry for her, why I don't have any ounce of respect for her and don't care what happens to her as a person. She used Armie, she uses those babies and now karma has bitten her in the ass and is going to eat her up Good fucking riddens!

[ilikeyoshi]

sorry i'm having a bad day anyway so now you get to watch me get pissed off about the infinitely less important thing because it's easier to talk about: i fucking HATE shit like that last post. i don't care. nobody cares. and if you DO care i am, as sincerely and genuinely as i can, asking you to get the fuck over yourself. this stupid social media attitude of "you didn't reblog it from me :(" "you missed my post i tagged you in do you hate me :(" made my anxiety a million times worse for YEARS and it's still one of the lingering problem areas. i HAVE to catch up with my dashboard every day because i used to have friends who ACTUALLY SENT ME MESSAGES ASKING IF I HATED THEM because i didn't see a post they tagged me in.

this is like. as unhinged as "you didn't laugh at the joke i made on the other side of a crowded room, do you hate me?" if this is a thing your anxiety does to you i am BEGGING YOU to fight it and recover from it. this is deranged fucking behavior. this is exactly how you fulfill the "everyone always leaves" anxiety prophecy—it's not because people hated your post, it's because people hated how you're always accusing them of hating YOU.

and i know, i KNOW how hard it is when anxiety is telling you everything that ever happens is proof that you're unlovable, but sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, as someone who was PSYCHOLOGICALLY HARMED by too many people giving in to their sickness and treating me like the worst person on the planet because of it, you NEED to get the fuck over it. you NEED to work on this and get help, or you WILL keep losing friends. NOT BECAUSE THEY DON'T LOVE YOU. but because when you let anxiety make you constantly ask people if they secretly or unspokenly hate you, what you're DOING is TELLING THEM you think nothing they ACTUALLY SAY OR DO for you is real, and that you believe it's ALL FAKE and they HATE YOU. it DOES NOT MATTER if you don't mean it this way, that's WHAT YOU'RE DOING. and nothing hurts more than giving your heart to a friend just to be told your words and actions will NEVER be enough, they'll ALWAYS assume you secretly want to hate them and ruin their life. THIS is what drives people away. you NEED to fight the urge to succumb to this. you NEED to heal this.

look. i have debilitating anxiety too, and it used to be this bad. i know where you're at. you're sick. it's not your FAULT you're sick. but that DOES NOT MEAN we can just GIVE UP and let our sickness run rampant and control our lives. you will hurt people you love this way. being sick means accepting it's not your fault and accepting that you have to fight through it and try to heal anyway. we can't just let it ruin our lives or expect others to 100% forgive everything we do because of it, because the thing is, our sickness HURTS OTHERS TOO. it makes US hurt them, and then tells us IT didn't make us hurt them, but THEY hurt US. most people cannot handle "your symptoms make you believe i am the bad guy" forever, particularly when you're leaning INTO those symptoms instead of fighting against them. they will leave. and it will NOT be for the reasons anxiety told you it was.

and listen, despite all this, despite this cruel and vicious cycle, you DESERVE FRIENDS. you DESERVE to feel safe in your relationships. but there is not a human person on this planet who can just GIVE that to you. when anxiety is corrupting your own mind this badly, the way out is to FIGHT IT. you have to HEAL, so that anxiety can't keep RUINING YOUR LIFE. you are not unlovable. most of those people who left you STILL LOVE YOU. but you cannot ask someone to love you while constantly telling them you don't believe them forever. they will leave to protect THEMSELVES. they will leave because you've let your anxiety hurt them too.

i still cannot fucking handle missing posts. i cannot handle being friends with people who TELL ME i missed their post. i'm trying to heal from this too, but i need you to understand that this is why i would've left. you let your anxiety hurt others long enough, and they get sick too. we have to fight for ourselves and each other. we deserve love and safety, and anxiety seeks to deny us that. it will, if we don't fight for it.