#not depression but like. mood bad no good things in the world. wanting to cry a little bit

[coderzxd]

When you create a boyfriend because you're all alone

[creamflix]

cw: some more college frenemy turned lover sukuna, mentions of seasonal depression. reader's implied to be shorter than sukuna. mentions of sex [nothing too detailed], needy sukuna & ovulating reader. reader is sick [no specifics] but recovers. part one part two

[pre-relationship]

it had been one of those days, or maybe one of those weeks, when everything felt heavy. the good ol' seasonal depression had wrapped itself around you like an unwelcome blanket — making you short with people, prone to snapping at anyone who dared talk to you. the crying jags came in waves, always in private, because god forbid anyone saw you like this.

you’d hit the peak of it that day, lying on your dorm bed with the lights dimmed, wallowing in the uncomfortable mix of self-pity and disgust. you couldn’t even bear to look at yourself in the mirror.

god, this fucking sucks, you thought, curled up under a blanket you hadn’t washed in weeks.

so when the knock on your door came, your first instinct was to ignore it. but whoever it was didn’t stop.

“open up, woman,” came the unmistakable growl of sukuna’s voice, muffled through the door.

sukuna? of all people? no, absolutely not.

“go away,” you yelled, voice hoarse from earlier tears. “i’m not in the mood.”

“too bad,” he replied. there was a click as the lock turned, and your door creaked open. of course, the bastard had your spare key.

you glared at him from your cocoon of misery as he strolled in, completely unbothered. “what the hell, sukuna?”

but he didn’t say a word. instead, he set down a bag on your desk, pulling out containers one by one. it wasn’t takeout — no, this was the real deal.

you could smell the savory warmth of a proper, home-cooked meal, the kind you hadn’t had in weeks.

“what are you doing?” you asked, voice cracking halfway through.

“what’s it look like? you looked like shit last time i saw you, so i figured you weren’t eating,” he said, not even sparing you a glance as he set up. “i made extras. don’t read into it.”

you blinked at him, utterly speechless. sukuna, the guy who could barely sit through a conversation without teasing or insulting you, had checked on you. had brought food.

“don’t just sit there staring. eat before it gets cold,” he grumbled, handing you a pair of chopsticks.

you didn’t know what came over you. maybe it was the sheer absurdity of the situation, or maybe it was the crack in the walls you’d built around yourself, but the tears started up again.

“are you — shit, are you crying?” he asked, looking genuinely alarmed.

you shook your head, laughing through the sobs. “no, i just — this is stupid. you’re stupid.”

“yeah, well, so are you,” he said, but his tone was softer than usual, almost hesitant.

and that was when it hit you — this man, this brash, stubborn idiot who usually drove you up the wall, had just done something no one else had thought to do. he’d shown up, no fanfare, no dramatics, just... him.

you didn’t know if you were crying out of amusement or the slow, dawning realization that you liked him.

not in the “i want to beat the shit out of you” way you always spoke about, but in a way that made your chest ache and your hands tremble as you accepted the bowl of food he pushed into them.

sukuna, for once, didn’t say anything. he just sat across from you, eating his own portion in silence, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

sukuna had always thought of himself as untouchable, even back in his reckless college days. he was the guy — cocky, brash, and always down to settle things with his fists.

but apparently, third-year bravado wasn’t enough to stop a couple of fourth-years from giving him a thorough beatdown after some trash-talking got out of hand.

he sat slumped on the back steps of the dorms, his knuckles split and bleeding, a bruise already blooming on his cheekbone. he looked like a mangy alley cat that had lost a turf war, sulking in the dim light. his pride was bruised worse than his body, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to see him like this.

so, of course, you showed up.

“what the hell is wrong with you?”

his head shot up, and there you were, standing over him like a storm cloud ready to unleash. he groaned, leaning his head back against the brick wall. “not in the mood for this, woman.”

“yeah? too bad,” you snapped, dropping your bag and crouching in front of him. “who the hell told you to pick a fight with people who could bench press your ass?”

he scowled. “they started it.”

“oh, real mature, sukuna,” you shot back, and before he could stop you, your hand reached out to prod at the gash on his lip.

“ow, fuck! what the hell, woman?” he hissed, jerking away.

“good. serves you right,” you muttered, but your tone had softened, just barely.

normally, anyone poking at his wounds like that — literally or figuratively — would’ve had him snapping back, but you? you were different. there was no pity in your eyes, no overly sweet words of comfort. just your usual fire, tempered with a concern you couldn’t quite mask.

“seriously, you’re such an idiot,” you muttered, shaking your head as you pulled a crumpled tissue from your bag and dabbed at the blood on his temple. he could’ve sworn his heart skipped a beat.

what the fuck?

“if you keep this up, you’re gonna get yourself killed before you even graduate,” you added, tossing the tissue aside.

“and then what? who’s gonna be left to annoy me, huh?”

and there it was — the real concern, hidden in your usual brashness, the kind of care he hadn’t realized he needed until now. it hit him like a punch to the gut, harder than anything those fourth-years had thrown at him.

shit, he thought, watching as you rummaged through your bag for more tissues. this is bad. this is really bad.

because sukuna, for all his bravado and pride, had never met anyone like you. someone who didn’t sugarcoat things, who could yell at him and still make him feel cared for, all without losing an ounce of their fire.

and in that moment, bruised and bleeding on the back steps of the dorms, he realized he didn’t just like you. no, it was worse than that.

he was falling for you, and he almost wanted to slap himself for it.

it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. just a party, one of those things where music blared loud enough to drown out any coherent thought and the smell of cheap beer lingered in every corner. you weren’t one to shy away from fun, and when your friend threw a house party, you were there — decked out, dancing like no one was watching.

except someone was watching.

and that someone was sukuna.

he wasn’t the type to dance. ever. the guy barely showed up to parties, and when he did, he was more likely to hang back, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, sizing people up like he was too good for all of this.

so when you felt someone move in behind you on the dance floor, your first instinct was to spin around and yell — because who the hell dared to — but then you saw him.

sukuna.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you said, loud enough to be heard over the music, crossing your arms and glaring up at him.

“what?” he shot back, one brow raised in that infuriatingly smug way. “you’re the only one allowed to have fun?”

“you? fun?” you retorted, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “don’t make me laugh.”

but then he stepped closer, moving with a confidence that was almost infuriating. “what, scared i’ll show you up?”

and somehow, against all odds, there you were — dancing with sukuna, of all people.

the height difference was almost comical. you barely reached his chest, and the way he had to lean down slightly to match your movements made you want to punch him and laugh at the same time. but then the lights shifted, flashing dark and soft, and you caught a glimpse of his expression.

he wasn’t smirking. he wasn’t teasing. no, he was just...looking at you.

and maybe it was the music, or the way his hands hovered near your waist, almost as if he wanted to hold you but wasn’t sure if he should. maybe it was the heat of the moment, or the fact that his presence was so overwhelming that it made your skin tingle.

but for just a second, you forgot how much he pissed you off.

for just a second, it felt like there was no one else on that dance floor.

it’s just dancing, you told yourself, stubbornly ignoring the flutter in your chest.

but a small, treacherous part of you whispered otherwise.

and sukuna? for once, he didn’t have a snarky comment ready.

because maybe, just maybe, he felt the same.

sukuna wasn’t supposed to be here.

you didn’t invite him, didn’t even know how he managed to sneak past your dormmate without some sort of confrontation. yet there he was, sprawled out on your bed like it was his own, watching you from behind with that insufferable expression he always wore.

“what?” you asked, not even looking at him as you lined your lips in the mirror, the curve of a soft hum escaping between phrases of a song playing from your speaker.

he should’ve had some snarky response locked and loaded, but all he could do was grunt and cross his arms, hating how comfortable he felt in your space. hating the way he couldn’t seem to look away from you.

watching you do your makeup was...annoying. not because of what you were doing — hell, it was a miracle you weren’t barking at him to get out — but because you looked so damn at peace.

the way you focused, brows furrowed just slightly, the way your lips moved to the lyrics, and the subtle glow of your skin under the desk lamp — all of it was maddening.

“what’re you getting all dolled up for?” he finally muttered, though it came out harsher than he meant.

“what do you care?” you shot back, smirking at him in the mirror.

he wanted to laugh, maybe make some comment about how ridiculous it was seeing you, of all people, sitting there with your brushes and powders. but he couldn’t.

not when his chest felt tight, not when his heart was doing that thing again.

the thing it did every time you smiled at him, or laughed at something he said, or even scolded him for being an idiot.

he hated it.

“you’re thinking too hard,” you teased, breaking his spiral as you turned to look at him fully. “what’s your problem, huh?”

he scoffed, leaning back like he was trying to hide how flustered he felt. “nothing. you’re just taking forever.”

but the truth was, he could’ve sat there all day, watching you hum to some dumb song and seeing you completely oblivious to how much space you were taking up in his head.

and he hated it more than anything.

sukuna didn’t know what possessed him to say it.

one second, he was mindlessly doodling on the edge of his notes while you ranted about some equation, and the next, the words slipped out.

"you know," he said, leaning back in his chair with a lazy smirk, "if you spent half as much time looking at me as you do those numbers, maybe you'd actually get something worthwhile."

the silence that followed was deafening.

you froze mid-sentence, blinking at him like he'd just declared his undying love for algebra. the sheer audacity of his comment caught you so off guard, it took you a moment to process it.

"sorry, what?" you asked, lips twitching like you were trying to decide between laughing or strangling him.

shit. he tried to play it off.

"relax," he said, rolling his eyes and tapping his pen on the table. "just wanted to try it out — thought it'd work on some chick, y'know?"

but even as the words left his mouth, he hated himself for them. he didn’t want to try it on "some chick." hell, he didn’t even care if it worked.

because the truth — the one he couldn’t bring himself to admit — was that he only wanted to use lines like that on you.

the way you narrowed your eyes at him, a flicker of amusement breaking through your confusion, made his chest tighten.

“oh, please,” you scoffed, turning back to your notes with a shake of your head. “your charm’s as subtle as a punch to the face.”

he let out a low laugh, rubbing the back of his neck to cover how flustered he felt.

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, though his smirk lingered. “whatever helps you sleep at night.”

and as you rolled your eyes and muttered something under your breath, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking:

if spending a lifetime throwing stupid lines your way meant seeing that spark in your eyes, he’d happily do it forever.

[post college]

jealousy wasn’t a concept that fit neatly into the dynamic you and sukuna shared. it wasn’t the clichéd, possessive, screaming type of jealousy; no, you both knew better. your bond wasn’t fragile enough to crack under a stray glance or a whispered comment.

still, it didn’t stop that little itch of annoyance when the world decided to test you.

like when the two of you were out, maybe just walking through the park or sitting at a café, and you’d notice a group of women openly staring at sukuna. the bolder ones would even giggle behind their hands, casting you a pitying glance, as if you were second place in a competition they didn’t know you’d already won.

your reaction? subtle but telling. your hand would slide into his, your fingers curling with a bit more force than necessary, or your arm would snake around his waist, tugging him closer. sukuna never said anything about it, but the ghost of a smirk would creep onto his lips when he felt you cling tighter.

on the flip side, sukuna’s patience ran razor-thin whenever men stared at you.

a simple grocery run turned into an internal boxing match when some random guy decided to ogle you. sukuna noticed everything: the way their eyes lingered too long or the way they adjusted their posture, suddenly trying to puff up like they had a chance.

his solution? pure, unspoken possessiveness. he’d sidle up behind you, lean down slightly, and pinch your waist with those stupidly sharp fingers of his. “yo, you done taking forever with the eggs?” he’d grumble, his tone casual, but his eyes screamed a warning to anyone watching.

“sukuna,” you’d hiss, swatting at his hand.

“what? you’re hogging the cart,” he’d tease, his grin wide and borderline feral.

despite the undercurrent of irritation, neither of you let it escalate. you knew the truth — they could stare all they wanted, but at the end of the day, it was you and sukuna at home.

and what a home it was.

the two of you, lazing on the couch, matching face masks making you look ridiculous. a bottle of wine cracked open, your glasses clinking every so often as you toasted to nothing in particular. sukuna’s legs stretched out while you curled into his side, scrolling through your phones or chatting about nonsense.

“those girls today were embarrassing,” you’d snort, leaning your head back against him.

“you’re one to talk,” he’d reply, tilting his head to glance at you, his lips quirking up. “you almost crushed my hand back there.”

you’d roll your eyes, but your cheeks would burn. “and you didn’t have to pinch me at the store like that, idiot.”

“you liked it.”

“in your dreams.”

despite the bickering, the quiet security between you spoke volumes. jealousy had no real place when you both knew where your priorities — and hearts — truly lay. sitting there, face masks peeling, wine glasses half-empty, the two of you had the last laugh.

because who was really winning? you were.

every single time.

there were moments when sukuna despised himself for feeling this way. like some hormonal teenager with no control over his thoughts — or his body. it wasn’t that your sex life lacked anything; far from it. but sometimes, the gaps between those moments stretched longer than he liked, leaving him restless.

still, he never wanted to pressure you, so he let that frustration churn quietly, manifesting in ways he thought were subtle but were anything but.

he’d start hugging you from behind more often, leaning his chin on your shoulder as his hands rested on your waist. sometimes, those hands would wander, not entirely inappropriate but lingering long enough to leave a warmth buzzing under your skin.

then there were the patterns he’d draw on your bare arm or thigh, tracing slow, deliberate circles and lines that felt more like a challenge than idle affection. his touch grew heavier, like he was silently willing you to notice the tension coiling in him.

and of course, the biting.

sukuna didn’t just bite; it was a teasing nip here, a playful graze of his teeth there, as if testing how far he could go before you caught on.

sleep became a whole other battlefield. when he held you at night, his arms felt just a little tighter around you, his breathing a little more labored when your body shifted against him. and god help him if he woke up sporting a hard-on. the sheer embarrassment of it was enough to make him curse himself silently, knowing full well you’d tease him mercilessly if you noticed.

but you did notice. you always did.

at first, you chalked it up to his usual antics, but the signs became impossible to ignore. the extra clinginess, the not-so-innocent touches, the way he grumbled under his breath when you’d wriggle out of his grasp. it clicked one evening when he bit you for what felt like the tenth time that week, muttering something about how you “tasted too sweet to resist.”

you didn’t even call him out on it directly. instead, you turned around, cupped his face, and kissed him — deep, slow, and deliberate. it was enough to make him stiffen in surprise before pulling you in with a low growl, all pretense of subtlety abandoned.

the next morning, you woke up tangled in his arms, your hair a mess and your body sore in all the best ways. sukuna was still half-asleep, his hair sticking up in odd angles and his expression dazed as he blinked at you.

“what’re you smiling at?” he grumbled, voice thick with sleep.

you bit your lip to keep from laughing outright. “nothing. just thinking how demanding someone’s been lately.”

his groan was immediate, his arm pulling you closer as he buried his face into your neck. “shut up.”

“make me,” you teased, only to yelp when he nipped at your shoulder.

even in his flustered state, sukuna didn’t miss the way your laughter rang through the room, filling the space with a warmth he’d never admit he craved.

you hated how sukuna always seemed to know.

even without saying a word, the bastard could read you like a book. it was during that time — ovulation, the dreaded period of feeling like your hormones were running a marathon — that he seemed to turn into some kind of smug mind reader.

it wasn’t just his ability to track your cycle; no, it was the way he started doing the most mundane things yet somehow making them seem... irresistible.

he’d be in the kitchen, flipping omelets like some five-star chef, forearms flexing just right, wearing that damn apron that only added to the appeal.

or he’d be dusting the house, his sleeves rolled up, exposing those tattooed arms that seemed carved by the gods themselves. and the worst part? he wasn’t even trying. sukuna was just living his life, completely oblivious — or so you thought.

but in reality, sukuna was absolutely aware. he’d caught on to your little quirks long ago — the subtle huffs of frustration, the way you avoided looking at him too long, and how your voice got quieter, almost shy. he lived for the way you tried so hard to act normal while clearly fighting the urge to pounce on him.

and sure enough, it happened. you were sitting on the couch, pretending to read something on your phone, but your eyes kept darting toward him as he stood by the window, adjusting his tie for work. his hair was perfectly messy, his shirt clung just right, and he smelled faintly of that cologne you loved — the one that always made you weak in the knees.

was he always this manly? you thought, biting your lip to suppress the idea forming in your mind.

finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. in a voice barely above a mumble, you blurted out your request, staring at your hands like they were the most interesting thing in the room.

sukuna paused, one brow arching as he looked over at you. “what was that?”

“you heard me,” you snapped, cheeks already burning.

his smirk grew, slow and deliberate. oh, he definitely heard you, but making you repeat it was just too much fun. “nah, say it again, brat.”

you glared at him, but your words came out softer this time. “i said... can we — ugh, forget it.”

but sukuna wasn’t letting you off the hook. he crossed the room in a few strides, leaning down so his face was level with yours. “you want something, sweetheart?” he teased, his voice low and infuriatingly smug.

“don’t call me that,” you muttered, but the way your face betrayed you had him grinning like a wolf.

inside, though? sukuna was practically doing cartwheels. he’d been waiting for this, playing it cool while secretly hoping you’d cave. hell, he’d even spritzed on that cologne just in case.

“guess the cologne worked,” he thought smugly, straightening up and offering you his hand. “come on, then. don’t just sit there sulking.”

you grabbed his hand, muttering something about him being an insufferable show-off, but the warmth in his gaze told you he didn’t mind one bit.

christmas was no longer the wild, chaotic blur it had been in your college years. gone were the days of cheap beer and blurry memories; now, it was the season of deadlines, adult responsibilities, and the quiet kind of teamwork that came with sharing a life together.

this year was no different. the two of you were neck-deep in work, scrambling to finish your projects before the holidays while juggling the ever-growing to-do list at home. the tree needed decorating, gifts had to be wrapped, and the house needed to look at least somewhat festive. but every time one of you lagged behind, the other seemed to pick up the slack without a word.

sukuna always acted like it was no big deal, like he didn’t just string up the lights you’d abandoned halfway through in frustration. when you came home to see the house glowing softly, you couldn’t help but smile. the bastard had even arranged the ornaments more symmetrically, something you knew he had no patience for.

“nice of you to finally show up,” he teased, leaning against the wall with that signature smirk. “thought you were gonna leave the lights looking like a toddler’s art project.”

“yeah? well, maybe i wouldn’t have left them if someone wasn’t holed up in meetings all day,” you shot back, tossing your bag onto the couch. but your tone lacked any real bite, especially when you saw the small pile of neatly wrapped presents on the coffee table — ones he had been too lazy to even look at yesterday.

“don’t mention it,” he grumbled, catching your gaze. “figured you’d just complain if i didn’t do it.”

and yet, there was a softness in his voice, the kind that reminded you of all the ways he cared without having to say it out loud. you didn’t mention how his gift-wrapping skills had gotten a lot better since last year, either.

you weren’t innocent in this silent game of covering for each other, though. while he’d been at work, you’d tackled the dishes he left stacked by the sink, cleared out the spare room, and even hung the stockings he’d forgotten about. and the look on his face when he noticed? priceless.

“didn’t know santa’s helper was working overtime,” he muttered as he hung up his coat, eyeing the spotless room.

“someone has to pick up the slack,” you shot back with a grin, earning a scoff from him.

this was your rhythm — quiet gestures, little acts of service that meant more than any grand romantic gesture ever could. by the time the two of you collapsed onto the couch that night, the house felt a little more like christmas, and neither of you felt the need to say thank you.

it was understood.

you hadn’t always been the woman you were now — brash, sarcastic, and unapologetically yourself. there’d been a time when you tried to fit into a box that people expected of you. you wore the smiles that didn’t reach your eyes, softened your voice to avoid being “too much,” and stayed quiet when things didn’t sit right.

but somewhere along the way, you grew tired of the charade.

now, you weren’t afraid to stand your ground, to call people out on their nonsense, or to let your emotions show when they threatened to bubble over. people called it “unladylike,” but you felt it was real. and sukuna? he never flinched.

from the moment he met you in college, he didn’t look at you like the others did. no raised eyebrows or snide comments, no attempts to tone you down or “fix” you. if anything, he leaned into it, meeting your fire with his own and somehow finding a rhythm that worked for both of you.

“damn, woman,” he’d tease when you got into it with someone over something trivial, a smirk tugging at his lips. “you’re scarier than me sometimes.”

but you knew better. sukuna didn’t just tolerate you — he admired you for it.

he admired the way you stood up for the things you believed in, even when it wasn’t your fight. like that time at the grocery store when you stepped in to tell off some jerk berating a cashier. or when you put your foot down at work, demanding the credit you deserved for a project someone else tried to claim.

on days when doubt crept in — when the whispers of “too much” got to you, or when you wondered if maybe you should’ve kept your mouth shut — he was always there.

“don’t start with that crap,” he’d say, his tone firm but his gaze soft. “you’ve got guts. people don’t know what to do with someone like you, and that’s their problem, not yours.”

and just like that, the doubts would fade. because when sukuna said it, you believed it.

you weren’t perfect, and you didn’t try to be. you didn’t always handle things gracefully, and sometimes your fire burned a little too hot. but sukuna never made you feel like you had to apologize for it.

“real woman’s a little rough around the edges,” he’d say, brushing a hand through your hair as you scowled at him. “guess that makes you the realest one i know.”

you’d roll your eyes, shove him away, and call him a dumbass. but inside, you knew the truth — he meant every word. and that was more than enough to keep your head high and your fire burning.

sukuna had always been the kind of guy people whispered about — the loud, brash, unfiltered type that couldn’t blend into a crowd even if he tried. some would chalk it up to boys being boys, but others weren’t so forgiving. his rough edges earned him judgmental looks and hushed comments: “he’s too much,” or worse, “no woman in her right mind would feel safe around someone like that.”

he shrugged most of it off. it wasn’t like he was trying to be anyone’s knight in shining armor. sukuna was who he was — tough, straightforward, and unapologetic about it. but sometimes, the words stuck, sinking in during quiet moments when no one else was around.

then there was you.

you weren’t like the others, not even close. back in college, the two of you were little more than reluctant friends who spent more time throwing insults at each other than actually talking. it was a mutual loathing that somehow worked, a rivalry with an unspoken undercurrent of respect.

so when you stumbled out of some dingy campus bar one night, tipsy and laughing, and pointed at him out of everyone else in the crowd, he was stunned.

“you,” you slurred, jabbing a finger in his direction. “i’m trusting you to get me back safe, ‘kay? don’t screw it up.”

twenty other people stood there, friends and acquaintances who probably looked more polished, more reliable, less... him. but you chose sukuna, the brash idiot who gave as good as he got when it came to your constant bickering.

he didn’t know what to say. “you sure about that, woman? i’m the last guy people’d think is safe.”

you squinted at him, leaning against a lamppost for balance. “yeah, well... i think you’re better than you act.”

it wasn’t a declaration, and you probably didn’t even remember saying it the next day. but for sukuna, it was a moment that stuck with him. you, of all people, trusted him.

and that night, he made sure you got home without a scratch.

as the years passed and your relationship deepened, sukuna found himself thinking back to that night more often than he’d admit. he’d come to terms with the fact that people might never see him as a “safe” guy, might always look at his tattoos and his sharp demeanor and decide he was a liability.

but you? you never flinched. you challenged him, called him out, and refused to put up with his nonsense, but you trusted him completely. and for sukuna, that was enough.

maybe it was fine if the world saw him as rough around the edges.

maybe it was fine if only one girl felt safe around him.

because you were the only one who mattered, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

some days, the universe had it out for you.

the fluorescent lights in the office had felt especially harsh, the deadlines more relentless, and the endless emails were nothing short of soul-sucking. by the time you trudged through the door, your entire body screamed for reprieve.

you didn’t even have to say anything when you spotted sukuna on the couch, sprawled out like he’d been hit by the same work-from-hell truck. his shirt hung loosely, half the buttons undone, and his tie dangled like a noose he’d narrowly escaped from.

he cracked an eye open, glancing at you as you kicked your shoes off without a care for the usual routine of placing them neatly by the door.

“rough day?” he asked, voice gravelly and tinged with exhaustion.

you snorted, plopping onto the opposite end of the couch. “you could say that.”

he grunted, leaning his head back against the cushion. “figured. you look like you’ve been through war.”

“gee, thanks,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “you’re really helping boost my mood right now.”

he smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “not like you’re a ray of sunshine either.”

the two of you sat there in silence for a while, the room filled with nothing but the faint hum of the air conditioner. the mutual understanding hung between you like a comforting weight: there was no need for conversation, no need to pretend everything was fine. right now, the world could wait.

after a moment, he shifted, nudging your leg with his foot.

“want me to order something?” he asked, his voice softer this time.

you glanced at him, meeting his tired gaze. “only if you let me pick the movie.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “fine. but no shitty horror.”

“no promises,” you shot back, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the day you’d had.

he didn’t reply, but when he lazily tossed his arm over the back of the couch, leaving just enough room for you to scoot closer if you wanted, you took the invitation without a word.

and in that quiet moment, with your head resting on his shoulder and his warmth easing the weight of the day, you both found the break you needed.

visiting your parents always brought a sense of comfort you couldn’t replicate anywhere else. there was something about the smell of home-cooked meals wafting through the air and the sight of your mom humming as she rearranged the living room for the third time that week.

sukuna didn’t always come along, which you understood. he’d often tell you it was important to spend time with them without distractions, a sentiment you begrudgingly agreed with, though you sometimes missed having him there to share the little moments.

but even when he didn’t tag along, his presence was still felt in the quietest ways.

like the morning of your visit, when you found a bouquet of fresh flowers sitting on the kitchen counter with a sticky note slapped on the side. the handwriting was messy — typical sukuna — but the note was clear: "for your mom. tell her i said hi."

or when you opened the trunk of your car and spotted the sleek cutlery set he must’ve snuck in, the one your mom had been ogling during their last spontaneous shopping trip together.

“what’s this?” you’d texted him, grinning at your phone.

his reply came almost instantly: "you know she’s been talking about it non-stop. don’t make it weird."

and then there were the gifts for your dad, subtle but thoughtful as ever. the latest issue of his favorite sports magazine, tucked neatly into the grocery bag you’d prepared, and — because sukuna could never just stop at one thing — a pair of tickets to a football match hidden at the bottom.

“he’ll know it’s from you,” you’d told him over the phone later that day, biting back a laugh.

“good,” he grunted, but you could hear the faint smile in his tone. “that old man deserves it. just don’t let him hug me next time, alright? he’s too damn strong.”

by the time you sat at the dining table with your parents, watching your mom gush over the flowers and your dad’s eyes light up at the tickets, you couldn’t help but feel a tug of warmth.

sukuna wasn’t there, but his love was as present as ever, woven into every thoughtful detail he left behind.

the day you fell critically ill, sukuna learned what helplessness truly felt like. it wasn’t a punch he could throw, nor a problem he could snarl his way out of. no, this was worse — it was seeing you pale and unmoving, hooked up to machines that beeped with cruel indifference. the doctors had assured him that you'd be fine, but he couldn’t shake the unease that clung to every word they refused to say outright.

he tried to stay strong, like he always did. for you, for himself.

but the way the nurses glanced away during certain check-ups made his stomach churn.

sukuna had never been a man of prayer, but in those moments, he found himself muttering bargains to whoever might listen.

work? forgotten. calls and emails from the office piled up, but he didn’t give a damn. nothing mattered more than staying by your side, holding your limp hand, and willing you to wake up.

he refused to cry, but his body betrayed him. his hands would tremble as he smoothed back your hair, his shoulders shaking as he sat silently in the sterile hospital room. his jaw clenched so tightly it ached, yet his chest felt hollow, like every unshed tear was pooling there, ready to drown him.

days stretched into weeks, and he stayed. through the sleepless nights, the tasteless cafeteria coffee, and the endless hum of machines. and then, one day, when he was dozing off in the uncomfortable chair by your bed, he heard it — your voice.

weak, raspy, but unmistakably yours.

"you look like shit."

his head snapped up so fast he nearly got whiplash. his heart stopped, then surged with so much relief it left him dizzy.

“say that again,” he croaked, voice cracking in a way he’d never admit later.

you blinked at him, a faint ghost of your usual smirk playing on your lips. "i said you look like —"

you didn’t even get to finish before he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands as the first sob tore free. sukuna, the man who never cried, couldn’t stop the tears now. his shoulders heaved as the weight of weeks came crashing down, his relief overwhelming and raw.

and even in your weakened state, you found the strength to lift a trembling hand to his, lacing your fingers with his in silent reassurance.

“it’s okay,” you whispered, voice hoarse but steady. “i’m okay.”

and for the first time in weeks, sukuna believed it.

if you thought you getting sick was bad, sukuna catching whatever it was you had was a whole different kind of disaster. the man, who usually strutted around like he was invincible, had practically worked himself into the ground worrying over you — and now here you were, sitting at his bedside, glaring at his feverish, helpless form.

his hair was messier than usual, sticking up in odd directions, and the flush of his cheeks wasn’t the usual healthy glow but the result of a high fever. his strong, confident presence? reduced to pathetic groans as he thrashed under the covers, mumbling incoherent nonsense thanks to the cocktail of medicine pumping through his system.

"i told you to rest, you idiot," you grumbled, your hand gripping his limp one tightly. "but nooo, you had to play the hero, didn’t you? now look at you —"

"’m fine," he slurred, his voice rough but somehow lighter than usual. his half-lidded eyes barely focused on you, though the lazy smirk on his lips was undeniably him.

“fine, my ass,” you snapped, adjusting the damp cloth on his forehead. “you’re burning up like a damn furnace.”

he chuckled weakly, though it sounded more like a wheeze. "you’re hot too..."

your face immediately burned, but you weren’t about to let him get away with that. "shut up, sukuna. you're delirious."

“delirious for you...” he mumbled, trailing off into a hum as his eyes fluttered shut.

you sighed heavily, leaning back in the chair and letting your head drop against the bed frame.

“if you don’t get better soon, i’m gonna kill you myself,” you muttered, though your grip on his hand never loosened.

despite the frustration bubbling in your chest, you couldn’t help but find him oddly endearing in this state. his sharp edges were dulled by exhaustion, his usually brash demeanor softened by vulnerability. even when sick out of his mind, he still managed to worm his way under your skin.

and as you sat there, watching over him the way he had done for you, you couldn’t help but smile at how unfairly cute he looked like this — messy, helpless, and somehow still so him.

the morning of your fourth anniversary began like any other, except for the fact that sukuna woke up with a jolt, heart pounding as if he'd just realized something earth-shattering. in truth, he had.

he loved you. no, not just the casual "of course i love you" love that he'd tossed your way over the years, but the overwhelming, soul-stirring, i want to marry you and grow old together type of love.

and the thought made his chest tight in a way that wasn't unpleasant — just... intense. too much to keep still. too much to lie there like everything was normal.

so he didn’t.

he jumped out of bed like he was late for something, practically bounding around the apartment with a stupid grin on his face. when you shuffled out of the bedroom, still groggy, you squinted at him suspiciously as he spun in the kitchen, humming some offbeat tune while attempting to cook.

"what the hell are you on?" you grumbled, rubbing your eyes.

"nothing!" he chirped — chirped! — and the sound alone made you pause mid-yawn.

you raised a brow. "you’re acting like you downed three energy drinks before sunrise. you're, what, twenty-six now? should i be worried about this second wind of yours?"

he waved you off, grinning like a fool as he leaned in to peck your forehead — something he usually only did when he was either apologizing or trying to soften you up. “don’t worry about it, brat. just... uh, happy anniversary!”

“...right.” your voice was laced with suspicion, but before you could prod him further, he darted out of the house, claiming he had errands to run.

in reality, sukuna wasn’t rushing to work. he was rushing to every jewelry store he could think of, frantically searching for the ring. nothing felt good enough at first — too flashy, too plain, too cheap-looking, too expensive —but then he saw it.

a simple but elegant b and, something he could imagine sliding onto your finger, and his chest squeezed at the thought. he bought it before he could second-guess himself, but as the cool weight of the box settled in his palm, his excitement morphed into nerves.

this was it. this was real. he wanted to marry you.

and for once, the man who could talk shit in his sleep felt like his tongue might betray him. how was he supposed to ask? what if you said no? what if you laughed at him?

but then he thought about you — about the mornings you’d yell at him for leaving socks everywhere, the late nights you’d fall asleep on his shoulder during a movie, the way you’d wrinkle your nose when he teased you but still let him kiss you anyway.

and suddenly, the nerves felt less like fear and more like anticipation. because no matter how badly he might screw it up, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

now all he had to do... was figure out how the hell to propose without making a fool of himself.

your day was already spiraling out of control.

it started with your parents calling to gush over how you and sukuna had made it to four years, rambling about how he’s such a nice boy, so thoughtful, so dependable, and then dropping the bomb:

“so, when’s the wedding?”

your first instinct was to laugh it off, but they were persistent. “no, really, sweetheart. four years is a long time. don’t you think it’s time to settle down?”

you barely managed to hang up without screaming, only to find yourself spiraling down a rabbit hole of self-reflection. sharing an apartment, living like pseudo-adults who sometimes forgot to buy milk — wasn’t that enough? did there have to be a wedding?

...okay, maybe you had saved that one wedding dress pin on pinterest. but that was hypothetical! a fantasy, not a plan!

still, the thought of marriage stirred something in you that you weren’t ready to confront. and now, your parents' words echoed in your mind like a broken record.

so naturally, when sukuna came strolling back into the apartment looking suspiciously smug, you decided to handle the situation with grace.

"what the hell are we?" you blurted, standing in the living room with your hands on your hips, still wearing your old snoopy t-shirt and pajama shorts.

he blinked at you, confused. "...what?"

“us!” you snapped, gesturing wildly between the two of you. “are we just boyfriend and girlfriend forever? is that all this is? because apparently, everyone’s waiting for some big grand wedding announcement, and i —”

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, cutting you off mid-rant as he dropped the shopping bag in his hand and reached into his pocket.

you froze, watching in disbelief as he got down on one knee. your brain short-circuited as he pulled out a ring, glaring at you like you were the one being unreasonable.

“you wanna know what we are? fine,” he grumbled, holding up the ring. “we’re two idiots who’ve been together for four years, and yeah, i love you, and yeah, i was already planning to propose, but you had to go and yell at me first.”

you stared at him, completely floored, your heartbeat deafening in your ears.

“so,” he continued, waving the ring slightly as if to snap you out of your shock. “are you gonna marry me or what? because my knee is killing me here, and i swear to god if you say no —”

you didn’t let him finish. practically tackling him, you shouted, “yes! yes, obviously yes!”

he huffed, half-annoyed, half-relieved, and slid the ring onto your finger before pulling you into a kiss. when you finally pulled back, you couldn’t help but laugh through your tears.

“you proposed to me while i’m wearing a snoopy t-shirt,” you said, voice trembling with equal parts amusement and disbelief.

he smirked, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “well, you’re the idiot who started yelling at me in pajamas. figured i’d match your energy.”

and just like that, in the middle of your messy apartment, you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.

planning a wedding with sukuna was a comedy of errors wrapped in sarcasm, stubbornness, and way too many uses of the word bro.

“bro, what’s the deal with this caterer?” you asked one evening, sprawled across the couch with a pile of wedding magazines. “they’re charging how much for some dry-ass chicken?”

“i don’t know, bro,” he shot back, tossing a pen at you. “maybe don’t pick the one with ‘gourmet’ in the name next time.”

your casual banter didn’t go unnoticed by your parents. your mother, horrified, kept clutching her pearls whenever she overheard you.

“you can’t call him that!” she hissed during one planning session, waving a hand at sukuna as if he wasn’t sitting right there. “you’re supposed to call him something sweet! romantic!”

“relax, mom,” you replied, deadpan. “i call him husband in my head sometimes.”

that earned a squawk from your dad. “what happened to being a lady?” he shrieked, gesturing wildly like he was about to disown you right then and there.

but you couldn’t care less, and neither could sukuna. though it was a whole different story the first time you called him husband out loud.

you were going over seating arrangements one night, hunched over the dining table with a bottle of wine between you.

“what do you think, husband?” you said absentmindedly, tapping a pen against your chin as you stared at the chart.

the sound of the pen dropping from his hand caught your attention. you looked up to find sukuna frozen, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“did you just —”

“what?”

“you called me —”

“what?” you repeated, playing innocent.

“husband,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, as if the word was too sacred to say out loud.

and then, to your utter disbelief, his knees buckled, and he plopped onto the floor in a dramatic heap.

“oh my god, are you serious?” you exclaimed, rushing over to him.

he groaned, running a hand down his face. “holy shit, this is real. i’m really about to marry you. you, the most stubborn, annoying, incredible woman on the planet.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, crouching down beside him. “and what? that’s enough to make your knees give out?”

“shut the fuck up,” he muttered, grabbing your hand to pull you closer. “you’re lucky i love you, wife.”

your heart skipped a beat at the way he said it, low and full of certainty, and for a moment, the teasing stopped. it was real. all of it.

and if sukuna’s knees gave out a couple more times on the way to the wedding, well, that was between you and him.

the day of the wedding dawned bright and clear, a little too cheery for your taste, given how your nerves were practically setting your stomach on fire. the venue was packed with friends and family, and sukuna stood at the altar looking as annoyingly smug as ever, though you caught the way he kept flexing his fingers, a sure sign of his own restlessness.

the ceremony went on in a blur — your father tearing up, your mother fluffing your dress at the last minute, the aisle stretching longer than it had any right to be. but then you were standing across from him, sukuna's stupidly handsome face softening just enough when his eyes locked onto yours.

“finally,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

“shut up,” you hissed back, though your lips twitched with a smile.

and then came the vows.

“alright,” sukuna began, clearing his throat. “here’s the deal. i promise to put up with your constant nagging, your stubborn-ass attitude, and your inexplicable need to buy three different brands of the same mascara.”

you blinked, momentarily stunned, before your lips parted in disbelief. “are you kidding me?”

“not done yet,” he said, holding up a hand to stop you. his smirk softened into something warmer, his voice lowering. “but i also promise to stand by you when life gets rough. to always be the first one to have your back when the world feels like it’s caving in. to love you, even when you make me want to tear my hair out. and yeah, i guess i’d even give you the last slice of pizza, but don’t make me regret it.”

there was a collective laugh from the audience, but the emotion in his eyes left no doubt in your mind that he meant every word.

when it was your turn, you took a steadying breath, trying to calm your racing heart. “fine. i promise to tolerate your overly dramatic bullshit, your constant need to be loud in every situation, and your inability to follow a single recipe without adding your own twist.”

his grin widened, but you pressed on, your tone softening. “but i also promise to be your partner in everything — whether it’s taking on the world or just deciding what to eat for dinner. i promise to never give up on us, even when you’re being insufferable. and yes, i’ll love you through all the ups, downs, and sideways curves life throws at us. but don’t expect me to share my fries. ever.”

sukuna barked out a laugh, and you caught the glimmer of tears in his eyes as he squeezed your hands a little tighter.

“are you two serious?” the officiant asked, though they were smiling.

“dead serious,” you and sukuna said in unison, glancing at each other with matching smirks.

and when the final moment came, when the officiant announced you as husband and wife, sukuna didn’t waste a second.

“come here, wife,” he murmured, pulling you close and crashing his lips against yours.

the cheers and applause from your friends and family faded into the background as the kiss deepened, sealing not just the vows but every unspoken promise between the two of you.

as you pulled back, breathless, sukuna smirked down at you. “you know we’re gonna tell this story a million times, right?”

“damn right we will,” you replied, matching his grin.

and just like that, the two of you — stubborn, ridiculous, and deeply in love — were ready to face whatever came next, armed with the best stories to tell your future kids.

thank you for sticking around the wild wild journey of a stubborn-kuna and an even stubborn reader. i hope you enjoyed <3 produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost —support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[quarterlifekitty]

Not me trawling your blog for as much mute!reader as I possibly can 👀🙏

You are doing the peoples work.

How would she go dealing with Ghost trauma though.

Not to be sappy as hell, but she actually does quite a good job. It may not be the most productive, but she gives him very ample space. He has night terrors, rarely, but sometimes. She distances herself physically until he settles down. She’s almost too cautious about his boundaries. She’s slowly forcing him to become a man of words instead of a beast when he gets in a bad mood. Ironic.

“You have to tell me what would help you, Simon.”

He knows he’s fickle when his hackles are raised. Sometimes he wants to be embraced to the point of immobility, other times he thinks he might die if he felt his skin against someone else’s. She refuses to be forced to guess!

It’s caused some fights before, to be honest. Because he wants someone to understand him enough to basically read his mind— it’s an irrational want, which he can’t fully reconcile with, and it causes him to get depressed and despondent. Truthfully, part of what attracted him to her is this idea he has about the kind of love where no words need to be exchanged. His life has been embroiled in gunfire, screams, actions taken in anger— and it’s caused him to romanticize silence. No one’s being hurt when things are silent.

It’s not instant, but she breaks him out of his funk every time. It’s in the random acts of kindness, baby!!! Little things his observant ass can’t help but take note of. You line up the shoes by the door so your runners are right next to each other. Doing his least favorite chore. Leaving a piece of candy on his pillow when you know he’s going to come home exhausted. Tv guides left out with the stupid B movies he likes circled in marker. Things that make it impossible to ignore that he’s not alone in the world, and that he takes up precious real estate in someone else’s mind. That he isn’t actually a ghost. And it makes him cry.

[kingdomaddiction]

I can’t stop thinking about my Fragmented SQH AU so here I go:

—

Obviously Shang Qinghua is not fine. He tries to be, really. The story is over, his son is finally happy with the love of his life and the world didn’t end. Even his ex-husband (they never got a divorce, Qinghua technically died, does it count as one?) is now free! And his cute and socially awkward King is trying his best to treat him like a friend instead of a servant.

Still, Qinghua yearns.

Sometimes, when no one is looking, he touches his flat stomach and remembers his pregnancy when he lived as Su Xiyan. A strange, lovely feeling to carry someone inside you. Unforgettable. He misses those days, but not so much. Too stressful, always running and hiding in order to protect her little one.

Other days he gets lost in the memories of his life as a washerwoman. Sad, grey days were those. Binghe was her little sunshine, the only reason she kept waking up everyday until her frail body could no more.

He remembers Binghe’s first words, his first steps. He even remembers the things he used to whisper to calm him down after a bad nightmare, kissing his tears away. Back then she used to dream for a better live, hoping to live long enough to see her baby boy grow up and marry someone kind.

He got to see Binghe grow up, yes, but only from afar. Qinghua had to restrain himself many times from killing Shen Qingqiu pre transmigration. Seeing his son cry with no way to comfort him was torture. Or so he thought. Because living right now so close to him and only being victim of his hatred is way worse.

“The traitor.”

“That rat.”

“Pathetic—“

It was too much.

He did deserve it. Qinghua did nothing to stop the stop fate (why was Shen Yuan allowed to change the rules when he was forced to hurt his son?) but it still hurt so much.

So it was no surprise when a few tears rolled down his face after a specially mean comment. A few demons from the court snickered, but Binghe just looks at him with a mixed of confusion and surprise, recognizing the tears as real and not the fake kind Qinghua usually shed around Mobei. He doesn’t feel guilt, because if it isn’t Shizun he does not care, but is still odd to witness.

Shang Qinghua just bows and leaves. He cries the whole way to his rooms. It’s depressing, he knows, but he must endure this. This is his penance, right? Now he must face it.

He tries not to stare at Binghe too much after that or even speak in his presence, but it only draws his attention. Binghe seems to attack him more often as if trying to test something, curious to see his reaction. Why? Qinghua doesn’t know, but it can’t be good. His love for his son does not blind him of his cruelty.

‘Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry—‘

Why did his little sunshine had to become such a fearful and cruel emperor? Why couldn’t he remain small, and cute and kind? Why in the world did he write that cursed story?

He sighs giving Binghe a quick glance. The young demon looks tense. Qinghua is sure his bad mood is mostly for Shen Qingqiu’s absence, who left a few days ago for serious sect business (yeah, right— you just wanted a break from your clingy husband bro) and hasn’t returned yet. On top of that the last few meetings at court has been terribly stressful. So many demons playing mind games can be exhausting.

Qinghua even after feeling hurt by Binghe feels the need to comfort him. To tell him his doing great and will find a solution. What can he say? The love of a mother (should he say father? He is currently in man’s body, but he took care of Binghe as a woman—) never fades.

It’s a silly idea, but Qinghua sneaks into the kitchen to prepare a little snack. Steamed millet buns. Very cheap and easy to make. He only needed millet flour (which was even cheaper than rice and widely cultivated in poor areas) and water. If they happen to be lucky enough to have more ingredients available then Qinghua added salt or a bit of onions. It used to be Binghe’s favorite— well, he said “everything mama makes is Bing-Bing favorite!”

Ah, he used to be so cute.

He finishes making the buns and brings him back to the court room. The other demon lords are gone and Binghe looks like he has a migraine. Qinghua approaches carefully trying to be brave.

“Junshang…” he calls softly. Before he can say something more Binghe opens his like he’s searching for something and sniffs the air. Then he finally looks at him, well, the tray in his hands.

“What is that?”

“Ah… steamed millet buns, my lord. I— I made them… for you?” Binghe just keeps staring at him as if he had grown another head. Qinghua clears his throat. “This servant thought Junshang should eat something after a long day.”

Binghe looks at the tray, then at him, then the tray again and he seems like his about to reject the offer. Qinghua holds his breath, already preparing for the burning sensation of rejection. Instead Binghe surprises him by saying:

“Bring it here.”

The peak lord nods and feels so excited he almost trips in his way to the throne. He offers the buns and Binghe stares at them with mild disgust (maybe because his treacherous shishu made them) and after long consideration he finally takes one.

He gives it a sniff before taking a big bite.

Binghe’s eyes open wide and for a brief moment they seem to shine. He keeps eating one after the other and Qinghua feels his heart fill with warmth at the sight remembering when Binghe was 3 years old and tried the buns for the first time.

“I’m glad Junshang enjoyed the buns.” Said the cultivator with a small but honest smile.

Binghe seems to finally realize what he had done and cleans the crumbs with his sleeve.

“Shang… shishu,” Wow, really having a hard time respecting your elders, huh, mister? “… made this on his own?”

“This one did!” He says proudly. “If Junshang desires this servant can always prepare more“ Qinghua offers because he knows his son enough to know he won’t ask for them again even if he loved them.

“… Do as you wish.” Oh, someone has been spending some time with his King. Doesn’t matter.

This is a good sign, right? First positive interaction with his son since forever— oh! Maybe he can prepare him some congee and mantuo next time? Yes! He can’t wait!

…

// Binghe’s angrily eating buns the next day in his room, crying: I miss my mom (˃̣̣̥ヘ˂̣̣̥) stupid rat—

[nico-esoterica]

You wanted to feel better so I made this for you ❤️‍🩹🩺❇️

From a mental health and survival pov, the best thing you can ever do is to say things are working in your favor or will.

You don't have to adopt any manifestation trend or technique which stresses you out or doesn't feel good. You don't have to do anything than change your perspective of what's happening around you.

Even if it's utter shit--You need to see them as changing. Even if one small thing wasn't as bad as yesterday or you at least woke up--that's something. You can have the worst week or month in the world but as long as you don't think against yourself, it's going to work out somehow. You don't need to be endlessly confident or positive. You just need to decide mentally that you're getting what you want no matter what. All hell can break loose and things can look devastating--but as long as you hold onto that, you WILL see your circumstances shift.

Take everything as a sign that things are getting better or are. Tenses don't matter.

Because we're not always feeling it. Many of us are neurodivergent and manifesting better living situations operating on zero sleep, food, stamina, and support. So holding onto faith sounds insane. However, if you've gone your entire life with that mindset, even if things got better yet you clung to negativity anyway, what have you got to lose? You've been betting against yourself your whole life. But that isn't your fault. No one believed in you or cared so you learned that faith wouldn't help you. We want to change things now. That's not always easy initially and may take a bit of time to accept. But as long as you don't commit to it not getting better, then it will. It already is.

Gratitude comes in great here. We can get so wrapped up in making things happen that we lose sight of the few good things that are working for us. That's an abundant mindset. That's being prosperous. You can still feel like you've got something going for you even when everything feels like it's going wrong. That perspective shift is going to give you a twinge of a good feeling once you cry it out, I promise. Breathe deeply through out the day and regulate your nervous system in the ways that feel natural and comfortable to you. You can acknowledge your emotions and observe your circumstances and get frustrated, depressed, etc, but still say, 'fuck it, we ball.'

Because there's a humor in it. Nothing can destroy you without your consent. And our circumstances look terrible but don't have to be. Buy that thing that's slightly over your budget. Cook yourself something small and nice that reminds you of the food you liked as a child, including nuggets. Eat cake and candy for breakfast while crying. Watch some cute animals like Moo Deng on video. I recommend creating a digital care package for your bad days and moments..even if they're constant. Make a folder on your phone, comp, tablet, etc, of everything that makes you genuinely happy. When things get dark or uncertain, I want you to look at that and feel everything you need to feel and let those emotions pass. We're strong but we're sensitive little creatures and taking care of ourselves should take the utmost priority.

As long as you don't change your mind, it's gonna have to come regardless. When you have that as a foundation, everything else just feels like a side quest/side plot that you'll feel more neutral towards. Circumstances won't seem so threatening. That perspective shift goes a long way and it helps your mental health like a cushion. Then that's when flickers of optimism spark and positivity will run like a current beneath everything. You don't have to be in a good mood or have a good day to manifest what you want. You just have to decide that you'll get it.

You will :)

[gabessquishytum]

Hob and Dream are already together when Dream retires and becomes human. Hob is so so relieved because Dream is alive (he had been so scared at the end that he was going to lose Dream to his own depression) and now not only is Dream happy and free of his burdens, he and Hob can actually be together in a way they couldn’t before. So needless to say once Hob gets newly human Dream back home, they both are ready to fall into bed together to celebrate.

Their sex life has always been wild and passionate and thus a little on the rougher side, and so it starts out that way again just out of habit/routine. But then. Suddenly Dream is crying, yelping in pain, letting out soft little “ows” and Hob practically throws himself off the bed. Hob starts rambling off apologies because he is an idiot, Dream is human now!! They can’t just skip prep like they used to!! He is so so sorry and feels like the worst person in the world because Dream has been human for like an hour and Hob has already hurt him :( 

Meanwhile Dream is ready to walk into the ocean because obviously Hob will be disappointed in him for ruining the moment (he conveniently ignores that Hob is actively apologizing and trying to comfort him, obviously Dream has Failed At Being Human and Hob will hate him now. Clearly.)(Being human hasn’t made him less of an idiot.)

Eventually they both manage to pull themselves together- Hob calms down enough to comfort Dream that he didn’t do anything wrong, and Dream calms down enough to believe him. He still feels bad, but Hob manages to distract him with kisses and cuddles until they both feel ready to try again. And Hob suddenly realizes that they’ve actually both been missing out by skipping some of this stuff. 

They both find out that slow, soft, sensual sex is just as fulfilling as their previous hard/rough/fast sex. Later, they’ll also learn that taking the time for prep doesn’t take away from when they do want to have rougher sex, but for now, Hob is happy to take the time to be slow and gentle with Dream in his new human body. After all, they have all the time in the world.

-🦇

AHHHHH WE LOVE THE HURT/COMFORT POTENTIAL OF DREAM NOT UNDERSTANDING THAT HE DOESNT HAVE TO JUST PUT UP WITH STUFF IN ORDER TO BE A "GOOD BOYFRIEND".

Can you imagine the reset that Dream’s newly human brain has to go through when Hob meticulously and carefully explains that he Does Not Want Dream To Suffer. Ever. Its such a big thing for him to process! And he has to keep reminding himself every day: Hob wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable. Hob wouldn't want him to put up with things that he doesn't really like. Hell, maybe he writes it on notes to remind himself around the house: "you are not failing and ruining dinner just because you burnt yourself on the oven, Hob just wants you to be safe".

As for sex prep and foreplay, Dream discovers that he actually really likes it. A lot. Maybe even more than 'actual sex'. At first he's mortified to realise that he'd rather be fingered than properly fucked. But Hob doesn't actually seem upset when he makes Dream cum on his fingers. He seems perfectly happy to do that and then jerk off between Dream’s thighs. He never makes a fuss if Dream’s not in the mood for anything more than rubbing together hornily. He seems to like it, too.

It's a learning curve. Dream finds later down the line that he even enjoys a light spanking, or Hob’s teeth pulling on his nipple. Pain isn't scary when he knows that Hob will stop as soon as he asks. Sex isn't scary at all, actually, and it's not something that he has to pass or fail. It's just... lovely. Even when it's not spectacular. Because it's with Hob, and that's the best thing in the world.

[scoutsrpmemes]

stained glass cinderella.

a collection of prompts inspired by and that remind me of an original character of mine. ( as always, feel free to tweak things such as pronouns, words, and titles as needed for context. ) cw: depression, suicidal ideation, self harm, and implied abuse.

"i healed. not completely. a scar is never the same as good flesh, but it stops the bleeding."'

"you can't just do whatever you want and go away."

"i never liked looking into mirrors."

"do not cry. do not hope, and do not cry."

"i'm sorry. i'm sorry. this may be me at my best."

"i can tell all your brutality is improvised. you're trying to fight back against something that had already won a long time ago."

"people cannot remain in dreams forever."

"i can bear any pain as long as it has meaning."

"i don't do anything and i'm already in pain."

"you think your suffering is a one way street?! it's not! it's the exact opposite of not!"

"i don’t know what to tell you. these flowers came from my childhood home."

"i’m past saving. i know how my story ends. i believe i am merely living my life in order to die."

"i shouldn't have been born. there are times when i think that."

"when you fall in love, it is with alarm bells ringing."

"i had an understanding of what they wanted me to be."

"i know my mom's gone, but here she's not. she picked out everything in this house. she planted every flower in that garden. this was her favorite place in the world."

"i've been wanting to get into living, what do you guys recommend for a beginner?"

"i guess i just find it a little scary when things go too well."

"it'll be checkmate in seven moves, but first i must sacrifice my queen."

"they must not like you very much to treat you like this."

"sometimes i stay up all night if it means i wont have to have those nightmares for a while."

"you have her eyes, you know."

"that kind of optimistic belief just isn't there in me."

"you think i'm appealing? what kinda messed up taste do you have?"

"about earlier. my stepmom gets into bad moods sometimes. just... just forget it happened."

"i'll always be there, whenever you want to see me."

"i feel like… something bad is gonna happen to me. i feel like something bad has happened. it hasn't reached me yet, but it's on its way."

"i was worried about you, simply because it's you."

"i know that i want to be here. even with the pain. even with the ugliness."

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

this is halloween || felix x reader

Summary: Felix's world is filled with nightmarish, energy-stealing creatures that others cannot see. In this cold, dark world that's made him who he is, you're the only thing that's warm and bright.

Word count: 4k

Genres: and they were roommates, urban fantasy

Warnings & Tags: angst, bad boy!felix (ish), non-descriptive sex scene (rated M), hurt/comfort (i think?), horror themes though nothing gets too explicit, potentially disturbing descriptions of monsters

A/N: Third installment in my Halloween mini-series, or: the author has whump!felix brain-rot and insists on making it everyone else's problem

I.N. · Seungmin

Felix walks like he has nowhere to go and no one to come home to. Hands in his pockets, shoulders lax, leaning back, lollipop stick between his lips, leisurely pace, eyes straight ahead. He looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world, not in a light-hearted, innocent, naïve way, but in a nonchalant, bored, cynical approach. Truth be told though, you would be closer in saying that the world does not care for him. Of that he’s well-aware.

He sees it in the looks he get by the well-meaning, law-abiding citizens that naturally make way for him, scared away by his long, bleached blonde hair, his ripped jeans or his leather jacket. He heard it in the whispers about the ‘problem child’, his mother’s crying, all of his teachers’ stern tone as they told him he needed to stop causing issues. He felt it in the way people tense around him, in how they changed their attitude once the atmosphere he brought with him everywhere he went settled on them and started eating at them the same way it cannibalized on him.

More than anything, he knows the world does not care because, as the tentacles of the creature that latched on to him earlier today tighten on his shoulders, as he crosses path with a disembodied, rotting ghoul that leaves a trail of mold behind it, as he notices from the corner of his eyes the nightmarish swirl high up in the sky of bat-like hope-eaters, if the world did care, he would not have been cursed with the ability to see all of these things when no one else did.

He rolls one of his shoulders, trying to make the grip looser. It works, barely, but all he can do is hope that it didn’t spark the creature’s interest. If there’s one thing he’s learned, in his years of life with this this accursed talent, it is that it is never a good idea to catch their interest. It’s not like there are no ways of getting rid of them once you do, but the ones he’s found have always been long and painful and he’s not in the mood for fighting tonight.

He picks up the pace to make it to the other side of the street, and gets a rush of fresh air when, for a second, the entity lets go of him. It doesn’t last. It gets its hold back on him, and he grits his teeth to make it less obvious how aware he is of it. Other people don’t realize it when those things happen, not as acutely. They get tired, they get depressed, they might get sick, but they don’t know. He does.

It’s no trouble for him to get into the building he was headed towards. The crowd of people in disguises doesn’t resist him any more than that of the commuters. Behind him, the entity shrinks itself to follow him inside. He doesn’t look up at it, doesn’t want to. The disgusting mass of tentacles that part only to reveal a wide mouth filled with too many teeth aren’t any worse than the shit he deals with every day, but it’s not a sight you get used to. Not fully.

He climbs the stairs that are filled with drunk college students, chatting college students, laughing college students. Some of them have gone heavy on the make-up, but none of them, not even the ones that tried their hardest to paint gaping wounds on their faces, get close to his  reality. It’s probably better off that way.

Finally, he gets to the apartment for the party you’ve asked him to come to. Well, that’s not exactly how it went — you said ‘I’d love it if you were here’, ‘You don’t have to’, and when you’d last seen him ‘I’ll see you tonight?’ in a hopeful tone that had gone right to his heart. He gets some looks as he gets in. Some of them are interested ones. He’s well-aware that people find him attractive, that the energy that surrounds him works as a magnet on some. He also knows that it doesn’t do people any good to be around him. It’s not long before the creatures start wearing them down, digging black circles under their eyes, hollowing their cheeks. Turns out, Felix is shockingly resistant to all that shit, insistent on surviving it. Ha. What a fucking joke.

He finds you on the edge of a room, chatting with a few people. You’re dressed as a witch, long black dress, hoops earrings, a black, pointy hat on your head. Your signature big, round glasses, are perched on your nose.

When you spot him, you wave him over, and he comes without giving it a second thought.

“You made it!” you chirp. You wrap one of your hands around his arm to pull him in the small circle, and he almost shivers at your touch. You’re warm. Felix’s world is cold, energy sucked out of it by more monstrous beings that he’ll ever meet. Other people are always warmer than he is. The difference is, you don’t get drained around him. “That’s Felix,” you introduce him to the others. “My roommate.”

Felix sees their faces light up in recognition. Obviously, they've heard about him before. There’s a short round of introduction from their side before they resume to their previous conversation.

“I’m getting something to drink,” he tells you, leaning in to speak in your ear, both because he likes the way you react and because the music’s so loud. “You want some?”

A smile, you shake your head. Your hand brushes against his back as he leaves and fuck, it’s embarrassing that he knows that this is what will keep him going. He glances in your direction as he walks away, checking that nothing that was following him has attached itself to you. It hasn’t. There’s an entity curled lazily against the ceiling, dipping long, skinny tentacles around the room, feeding on the energy, but you and your group seem to be mostly left alone. It makes him feel more relieved than it should, and he hates that he knows it’s less because you’re safe and more because he thinks it would kill him if he lost your warmth and the safety you provide him.

You’d come in his life as a blessing with no warning. He had recently been evicted and was couch-surfing in other people’s apartments when Wooyoung had first mentioned your name to him. You had a free room, he’d said. You were looking for a new person to fill it, he’d said. You were ‘a bit shy, but sweet’, he’d said. Felix had not thought for a second that it would work out. It never did. He’d be lucky if he found a one-bedroom apartment with no heating in the shittiest area of the city.

Then he’d met you and had immediately distrusted your soft, distant attitude, the way you wouldn’t meet his eyes and how you shrunk yourself around him. You wouldn’t last, he thought, but since you didn’t oppose his presence, he had accepted the offer. Even if you threw him out two weeks later, that was two weeks of security that he usually wasn’t afforded.

That had been a year ago now.

As he grabs himself a beer — he’s learned the hard way that it’s better to stay sharp when you’re affected by his, ah, condition — he finds it hard not to find you in the room. No matter how much he tries, his eyes always land back on you. The only way to escape you is to move to another room, so he does, because he finds it fucking embarrassing, how affected he is by you, and because he never loses the nagging fear that the things that follow him around will latch on to you.

When he lands on the couch, he feels the creature tightening his grip on his arms. He grits his teeth as the cold bites him harder, as everything feels a little darker around him. Shit, that thing isn’t letting up. He takes a sip of beer, ignores the gargoyle perched on a girl’s shoulder, the imp lying on a dude’s head. He’s been long forced into indifference about these things. He can’t make a difference anyway, he’d know, he’s tried it before, so why bother? He doesn’t know them, and they’d leave him to die in the gutter if they were given the chance. He won’t dedicate a second of the energy he could use on saving himself on them.

There’s a blur of time and movement, before, eventually, you fall on the couch next to him, and his world takes colors again.

“Long day?” you ask with a sympathetic frown.

He scoffs. He only ever has long days.

“Yeah,” he just says. “You?”

A shrug.

“It was fine, actually. I’m just… not a huge Halloween fan.”

The mundane of the conversation is such a hard punch to the gut. He’d talk about how his day’s gone and how you feel about things all the goddamn time if he could.

“Why not?”

You lean closer against him, your shoulder brushing against his. He shifts so the creature doesn’t touch you. He should move away completely, he knows, that’d be the safe thing to do. He just doesn’t have the strength for it.

“It feels a bit like a circus,” you say, sounding pensive. “I get that people want to enjoy a party though, it’s not that deep, just— my family’s pretty big on traditions, it’s a big symbolic date for them. It’s weird to see other people treat it so differently, but it’s just my hang-up, you know. I don’t want to make it anyone else’s problem.”

It’s one of those things you keep bringing up, this nebulous part of your life, the ‘family’ that he’s never seen around. You’re not on speaking terms, as far as he knows, but you never bring them up, and he doesn’t ask. It’s funny, how you’re the one who visibly walks on egg-shells at all times yet he’s sure he’s more afraid of losing you than you him.

Then his phone vibrates in his pocket. He wishes he could ignore it, but it’s not a luxury he has these days. One glance at the screen, and he feels his heart freeze over. He looks up, and on the other side of the room, there’s Hyesung, staring and with a tight, forced smile on his lips. He would look perfectly inconspicuous, a young man in a sea of young people, if not for the winged demon hovering above him, its tentacles reaching out towards different members of the crowd. Unlike the entities Felix has seen around on his way here, this one is more defined, closer to representations of demons you find in human art. He knows that these things are far more of a threat than the abominations like the one feeding off of him right now.

Shit. Shit. Felix wasn't supposed to run into anyone from that group tonight. He was supposed to be around you, and normal people, and get to fucking breathe. But now, not only has Hyesung seen him, but he's looking at you with intrigued eyes, and that's about the worst thing that could happen.

Felix stands up, grabbing your hand to pull you with him.

“Let's go home,” he throws to you over his shoulder as he starts pushing his way through people without paying much attention to them.

“Already?” you ask, confused, though you don't resist him. “But you just got here.”

It wouldn't be a lie if he told you that as far as he's concerned, he saw you, which was all he cared about, but he doesn't say that.

“Not a huge fan of this crowd,” he says instead, which isn't a lie either, considering Hyesung is part of it.

“Oh,” is your answer, right as you reach the door to the apartment. Just a few more steps and you'll both be out of here, and able to find a better place to be.

If fucking Hyesung didn't appear in front of it with that superior, fake smile again.

“Long time no see, Felix,” is the first thing that make it past his lips, and Felix hears the jab for what it is. It's true that he hasn't showed up at the Headquarters in a while, true, too, that he hasn't participated much in Venom's activities as of late. Hasn't wanted to, nor felt the need to do it. When he'd joined, he had been enticed by the promise of a place free of the monsters. Knowing that he'd have to do some unsavory stuff to get it had seemed a low, low price to pay then.

A price that hadn't stopped growing since. He'd taken the wrong bargain, and now he couldn't back out. It'd be fine; he'd pay it again, he'd pay twice the price later on. He had no illusions on his ability to escape punishment. Others might have that kind of luck, but he didn't, he never had.

He just had to make sure that you wouldn't be around when he paid for it.

When Hyesung tilts his head to get a better look at you and his lips stretch out into a wider smile, one that is unsettlingly cheerful.

“Hi, I don't think we've met, I'm—”

“Yeah,” Felix interrupts him, taking a threatening step towards him without letting go of you. “You haven't met.”

Hyesung's expression shifts. Above him, the demon gives a lazy flap of wings. Felix doesn't have long.

He feels you squeeze his hand, and your silent support allows him to breathe in again. He hasn't even explained anything to you, yet you're giving him your trust, and that makes him feel like he can fly. Which is more or less the kind of miracle he's going to need if he wants to make it out of here.

Demons, like the kind hanging above Hyesung's head, are somewhat able to interact with the physical world. The others are here, but they can't do anything, can't move objects, definitely can't make humans do things. Demons... might. It's not true of all of them, but Felix suspects that Hyesung's climbed the hierarchy within Venom high enough that his companion is one of the powerful ones. It makes him dangerous. It also makes him easier to outrun.

He tightens his grip on you. He can only hope you're ready.

“I'm just trying to make a new friend!” Hyesung says with dishonest warmth. “You know, we're always looking for people to join—”

When Felix's fist catches him in the jaw, he really, really should have seen it coming. After pulling that kind of shit, it's 100% on him if it caught him by surprise. It seems to, since he stumbles back as conversations around you quiet down and all eyes focus on the three of you — the three of you others can see, that is. Felix has no intention of sticking around to entertain though, and next thing he knows, he's running.

He feels the brush of the demon, feels the mouthy abomination's tentacle push him off as if to say 'hey that one's mine', which, ha, isn't that ironic. He doesn't doubt that the demon could kill the other thing in a fight, but it slows him down enough that, when Felix flies down the stairs with you in tow, it's not right behind him, and that's all he needs. It's not his first rodeo.

You certainly keep up surprisingly well, considering this isn't a daily occurrence for you. You also don't seem to hesitate as Felix darts into an alley way and presses you against a door. He doesn't have long, the abomination makes him too easy to spot, but that doesn't mean he's going to drag you with him.

“Go back to the apartment,�� he orders, urgency in his voice. “Don't go back in there, okay? I'll meet you there.”

“But what about—”

“I've got this,” he promises, and no matter how tired he gets, it's still the truth. He's always made it out okay. There's no reason for this to be any different.

“Be careful,” you whisper. He wishes you hadn't, because, fuck, how he's supposed to not give in now?

He kisses you, hard and rough, tries to get everything he can out of that stolen moment. You're soft and warm against him. He wants to melt into you and never have to step foot into his life again. Instead, he tears himself from you as you gasp for air.

“Go home,” he tells you again, and then he takes off. The demon takes the bait, passes by you without even seeing you, and Hyesung isn't far behind.

As Felix runs for his life, the thought that in doing that, he's keeping you safe, gives him, for the first time in forever, someone to run home to.

It's late when he makes it back to the apartment. His legs carry him more out of habit than through conscious thought — of that, he doesn't have much left. A fresh burn, left by the demon, runs over his forearm. Over him, the abomination's worse for the wear, but it's refused to let go of him through the entirety of the run, and it fought like hell to keep him to himself, when the demon briefly caught up.

Eventually, Felix managed to lose him by barreling through one of these tight alleys filled with shops. The obstacles both on the floor and in the air had allowed him to effectively get rid of both the demon and the human and as far he knows, they don't know where he lives. Not yet anyway. He didn't know how long he still had for that. He knows that he can't let that aspect of his life catch up with you but, fuck, he thinks it just might kill him. To know that he had you and to now lose you again— he doesn't know how he's supposed to ever get over it.

His feet slowly take him up the stairs, dragging more and more until finally he grabs the doorknob. Almost immediately, the door's pulled open, and you're there, standing in front of him, taking him in, eyes searching his face first, then the rest of his body. Finally relief overtakes you and you pull him inside.

Behind him, the tentacles snap one by one as he walks through the door. The last few ones still holding on break off when the door closes. That is another one of the miracle, one he cannot explain. Going to sleep used to be the worst part of his day, the one when he knew he'd have to close his eyes despite the fact that the monsters were all around him, feeding off of him. He'd have to feel his energy being slowly depleted as he laid there, desperate for sleep to take him so he could wake up without feeling rested.

The monsters never come in here. He doesn't know why. It's not quite the first time he's seen it; clearly some people are less targeted than others. As far as he's concerned, you are the one that keeps the monsters at bay, and that's why, as your hands reach up for his face like you want to check that he really is there, that he's safe, whispering quiet 'thank you's under your breath he, once more, cannot hold back.

His fingers wrap around your wrists, because he'll crumble if you keep touching him like that, and he kisses you again. He's got less adrenaline in his system, so it's not as harsh as the previous one, and you meet all of his desperation with softness. You intertwine your fingers with his, let him take the lead. You whimper when one of his cold hands sneaks under your shirt, brushing against the hot skin of your stomach.

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your lips, without taking his hand off, and then he kisses you again.

You both stumbles through the hallway before your back hits the door to your room. That is always where the two of you end up on nights like these. Not that he gets chased home that often, but on the nights when he just can't resist the thought of having you, it's on your bed that the two of you come crashing down. Neither of you ever speaks of these nights. He makes sure he's gone by the time you wake up, and he's not in a situation where he can be the person you deserve. You have nothing to do in his world anyway, you're an anomaly, a miracle that a God who took pity on him must have wanted to send his way.

He always wonders if you know how badly he cares, if you know you're the only one for him. He wonders if he should tell you he loves you, or if it would be unfair to you, when he knows he won't stay around in your world for long.

So as he strips you of your clothes with feverish hands, presses biting kisses against your neck while you arch into him, whines and whimpers falling from your lips, he does his best to let you know. 'I love you', his careful movements say as he kneels between your legs. 'I love you', his eyes when he takes in your panting silhouette. 'I love you', his open-mouthed kisses trailing down all over your body.

He revels in the way your body trembles under his tongue, and when he finally pushes into you with a grunt, no matter how much he tries to keep himself from falling deeper into you, he can't help it anymore. You push yourself on your elbows, fingers tracing his jaw, and you pull him in for a kiss, and Felix is just gone. You're too soft, too caring, too good for him.

Later, with his arm wrapped around you, while you're lying on his chest and he's letting his fingers run over your back, he hears his own voice rise up in your room.

“You're not going to ask? About earlier?”

There's a long silence. He wonders if you've fallen asleep.

“Do you want me to?” you ask after long seconds have passed by, your voice quiet.

He— He's not sure, if he's being honest. He, selfishly, wants you to care. He wants you to want to know. But if you do, if you find out about everything that crawls and flies and walks in this world by your side without you being able to see them, if you're pulled in his world in worse ways, it will only ever hurt you. No good can come out of it.

He's mulling over it when you look up at him.

“If you tell me, you'll regret it when you wake up.”

There's such sadness in your voice that he feels like he's just been kicked in the chest. He's sure that you're talking about how he flees in the morning, how he never talks about these late nights, how distant he can be. He doesn't want you to feel that way. He doesn't want you to think, even for a second, that it's your fault.

Because it's all too much, because he can't tell you all that, because he knows the words will come out all wrong if he tries, he kisses you again, and he can only pray that you can tell from the strength of it, from how he cradles your face. You let yourself sink into his kiss and into his arms.

“I never regret it,” he tells the room much, much later, in the dead of night, when your breathing is even. And his voice cracks when he tests the way other words sound said aloud for the very first time.

“I love you.”

so this felix is very similar to my jealousy, jealousy felix but this is a story that i've had in mind for an eternity. i absolutely loved writing it, felt fun going for something outside of my comfort zone. i don't know yet if i'll write more for this universe. would love to know your thoughts on it since this story was very precious to me, and if you don't feel like leaving a comment, please consider reblogging to help the story circulate <3

permanent taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

[veryajunice]

i couldn't watch the documentary without crying. my xuxi... i really don't know what to say, it hurts so much. literally he said that he wanted to die. what if it had happened? what if he had committed suicide? all the stupid creatures would have loved him and been sorry for him if that had happened, right? but after a incident like that, every single those cruel who caused it would have been an 'angel' and said things like "we love you, we are so sorry, we'll miss you etc." right? after it was all over, we would literally have lost someone because of the bullshit they said without knowing anything about the truth. like what happened to moonbin, to sulli, to jonghyun, to hara and to more innocent and beautiful people like them... you remember how they left us? yeah because of some human garbage saying bad things about them, causing them for nothing and bullying them for no reason. what if we had lost one more person again, how would you live with it? even one word you say can change someone's life in every way, you know? a word can make a person live or a word can cause their end...

he was a sunshine but they stole his brightness. he lost his precious smile since then, he looks so fucking tired. when he said he couldn't eat for a while or lost his hair, i couldn't help myself crying, i felt so bad for him. and maybe some people don't know that but every single thing he said he had been through during his hiatus like not getting out of bed or losing appetite etc. are literally major depression symptoms... and it's so sad to see that someone who has the brightest smile like him was in depression like for 6 months or maybe longer... guys, he is a HUMAN like me like you like us.

a fucking stupid sasaeng ruined his life and the most heartbreaking part is that people believed that bich not him and forced him to apologise for something he even hadn't done. and the funnier thing is the "company" haven't done any single thing about it, hah- ah sorry wait the company has done something, right?! yeah just have made him apologise to this shit again and again. even he himself exposed that person, yeah because our really thoughtful (!) company never takes action. so he had to get his life in order.

and the other heartbreaking thing is when he said "i really want to be with them". lucas has always been the sunshine of the group, the mood maker of the group, the giant baby of the group... he has been there for every single of them since the beginning. and actually he still is as we have seen even though the company tried so hard to not make him obvious with a mask and a beanie lol. but you know how nct members are important to him and how he is important to the members. i really don't know how they felt about this situation... especially every wayv member, mark, haechan, chenle, renjun, taeyong and jungwoo. they all couldn't say anything about it and forced to act like nothing happened. but at least it still makes me happy to see them together and supporting each other no matter what.

though everything has been hard, my baby is so strong. i'm so glad he opens his heart to us and sharing hard times he went through. maybe we failed to protect the most loving person, our sunshine but i'm sure he will get over every single bad thing. because he has his fans, his friends, his members... i hope everything will be better for him. he deserves the world. we still love you like the first day our little giant baby. i want to see you smiling brightly again. we care about you a lot, darling. we love you wong yukhei. and i'm looking forward to seeing your new activities! fighting my man!

and one more thing... AAAAY YOOO LUCAS HAS COME BACK TO ATE THE INDUSTRY LIKE HE DID BEFORE BITCHES AND HE IS SO FREAKING GOOD WITH LONG HAIR WHAT THE HAECCKKK OAHH MY GODFD

[neorukixart]

Been wondering for a while if you have any other headcanons for your adult Ruki 🤔🙏

Ah... well, since you asked for "headcanons" it means I can go wild and ignore some of the canon, right? :3c

She had her "gay" awakening when she was watching "Digimon Adventure" while she was baby (about the age she had in the Locomon movie flashback), specifically the ep with princess Mimi. She didn't realized it until she grew up (prob in her 20s). Thanks to that, Rumiko "misread" the mood and thought Ruki wanted cute dresses and be pretty.

She's an AiM fan (thanks to Mimi), which would explain her fixation with "Yuuhi no Yakusoku", that's her fav song and has a soft spot for "My Place" too. She also listens to RAISE A SUILEN (because you know, I'm a RAS oshi too hehe).

She became a morning person quite easily thinking on how she wanted to work hard so when she meets Renamon again, they won't laugh at her for being lazy.

She's very polite, having studied in an "Ojousama" school until highschool but she's very careful to whom she greets with "Gokigenyou", she will NEVER use it with the tamers group but she does knows how to keep up appearances when needed.

The modeling job her mom "forced" her to do was with genderless clothes and during her last months of working as a model, she did more sports and formal suits (skirts were forbbiden); this gave her quite the popularity among girls and women ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). She's thankful she has to use a helmet while riding her bike to hide her face.

Juri will always touch the "you were very ikemen as a model" topic from time to time ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

She used her model job money for her motocross gear and bikes.

Unfortunately for her, she became famous among the motor sports world and had to "become" a model again for magazines and interviews, the good thing is that she wears her gear and not "modeling" clothes. She's still popular among ladies ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

She tries to be a good example to the kids she teaches bouldering, unfortunately (again) there are moms who are very interested in her ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

She regrets very much accepting being a model at this point (but now I find it very funny XDDD help)

During summer, she does radio exercises with kids and her stamp is actually a kawaii fox instead of her last name; when older kids ask why the stamp is like that she just says "I like foxes, they are cool", younger kids don't question it as it is a cute fox.

Jian and Juri are the ones she constantly keeps in touch with; Juri is the one who almost has time to go and see her competitions everytime and she drags Hirokazu and Kenta with her, Ruki appreciates the gesture.

She developed quite the motherly instincts thanks to the kids she's been teaching in the park; then she realized that "oh, so kids are only cute and adorable when they aren't your own" but she is not so against the idea of being a mother herself (Let her adopt Miyuki and Renaharu uwu).

Once in a while, depression actually hits her so you will find her on long bike rides at night with not an specific destination. She decided she was not going to cry anymore so at the end of her rides, she might need to hit something.

She's bad at drinking and becomes a drunk terminator, at the end of her destruction, she cries so, she prefers to avoid drinking but she can do it in moderation.

Thanks to her motocross career, she moved out of her house and lives in a relatively big apartment (model money is convenient); she lives alone but Juri has often suggested to live together, Ruki is not really ready for it yet.

Living alone means taking care of yourself so she's actually a good cook and procures to stay healthy (and buffy), cooking is a hobby she didn't expect to develop but here she is.

She keeps a few plants that does not need much water as she's out most of the time, but surprinsingly she keeps her apartment tidy and clean.

One time she was on TV (thanks to her competition being aired) and got interviewed upon winning; later that week people connected the dots and said she was one of the kids who were fighting the D-reaper and had to ask Jian and Yamaki for help since it went viral (let's say that they did some things here and there that might or not be illegal).

From time to time, she takes Juri on her bike rides (when she doesn't has to do extra work for her school) and the one place she always takes Juri to, is the beach because it reminds her the ONE time she got trapped in Okinawa thanks to a certain Omegamon asking for her help to defeat Mephismon and how she was able to go back thanks to Kyuubimon that miraculously, knew how to swim. When Juri asked why she didn't asked for Jian and Takato's help (or Minami's), she said it was very embarrassing to owe money and favors; but she keeps in mind that if she ever finds this Omegamon again, she will have a few things to say.

I've already said this but, she collects the new Digica, overall Renamon evo line cards. She also collects Digimon plushies. V-mon and Tailmon being among her favs (me? pushing my biases? Noooooo of course noooooo).

Ryou will often try to get in touch and get her to compete in Digica tournaments; Ruki refuses saying she will only do it if the fate of the world and Digital World are at stake, never for fun; only in private and with friends (those friends being Hirokazu, Kenta and Ryou who are the only other nerds to get cards).

She's in good terms with Ryou to be honest; they have a good relationship and he already apologized for forgetting about her when they were kids. Ruki still doesn't knows why she can't hold that grudge anymore but she considers him a good friend so when Jian or Juri don't have time, she will chat with Ryou and share their problems. Their fav subject is sharing their adventures before meeting each other and new booster packs of the Digica or discussing the new Digis designs.

Speaking of new Digis, she likes Diarbbitmon and is gay for Cendrillmon.

Also speaking of Digica, there was one time when Shaochung was eager to learn but Jian ain't teaching her for whatever reason so she went to Ruki who, happily showed how to play. They are in very good terms, even Shaochung would often brag with her friends and classmates how she knows the Digimon Queen (and motocross pro) Makino Ruki. She keeps calling her "Ruki onee-chan" btw.

She would be on good terms with Takato if only he would have stuck around instead of disappearing xD so she holds a grudge towards him for "abandoning" Juri; this is the main reason Ruki will try to spend time with Juri the most she can. Who knows, maybe she can wooo her ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Speaking of Juri, I think Ruki realized she liked her when they were teens but out of respect for Takato she stayed quiet, for YEARS. Also Juri secretly collected Ruki's photos from her modeling days (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

I know that for the sake of the CD dramas, Ori-san had to do her usual "Ruki" voice, but I actually picture Ruki having a different Ori-san voice, something between Riza (FMA Brotherhood) and Manami (Digimon Ghost Game).

I think that's all I have for now XD I hope you have fun reading? Also, since I don't have anything new to post (still can't use Glaze and don't even talk about Nighshade) here have a blurry preview of your prompt hehe.

[blvccl]

Dantdm x me

Everyone Adores You (At Least, I Do.)

SO!DanTDM x Jay (gift for my lil bro ^_^)

if u want u can just replace jay with ur own name LMAO

You joined the server, your Twitch chat pulled to the side so you could talk to your viewers during your first day on the Shady Oaks SMP.

You were beyond excited, especially since the one and only DanTDM was going to be there! You couldn't even believe it, it got your heart racing as you spawned in infront of the retirement home.

“Chat, I'm so nervous.. what if they don't like me? Do you think I'll do good?” You asked, biting your nail and waiting for the others to join. You had gotten on earlier than expected.

The chat flowed with accomadative remarks and praise, ensuring that you were going to crush it. You felt a little better after seeing a bunch of "Queen never CRY 💜" comments.

After a moment of walking around and looking at other structures, you heard a familiar british voice enter the Discord call.

“Hello? Can you hear me well?” Dan joined.

You had to physically hide your face with your hands for a second to stop the chat from seeing your face immedietly go red. Didn't do anything though, since the chat exploded with shock and chaos. Your favorite youtuber was in a call with you. You answered back, voice shaking from excitement.

“Yeah! Yeah, I can hear you.”

“Brilliant, welcome to the server! Everyone else will get on in just a bit. We're probably gonna do a, kinda introduction? We'll have you come inside after I send you the message via DMs and the role-play will start. Sound good?” He explained, making sure you liked the idea before completely bossing you.

You had to stop yourself from giggling, covering your mouth with a sleeve. You unmuted again and answered.

“Yeah, that's fine! I'm so excited to meet everyone!”

After muting again and waiting for the others to get online, everything was going to plan. You did your intro bit, talked to everyone, and went to start working on a home.

An hour or so went by, your house wasn't completely finished but you got a lot done pretty quickly. Chat helped with decorating the inside, giving tips and hacks with small things. At some point you ran into Dan, who was looking for his horse that had escaped somehow.

“Hey, Jay, how's it goin'? Have you, uh, seen a dark horse with diamond armor 'round here?” He asked, throwing some things out of his inventory and then mining a tree.

“You lost your horse? How in the world did you lose a horse? They're so slow.” You asked, chuckling at the situation. He then placed down a crafting table and began to conjure up an iron pickaxe, he was about to go mining.

“I think someone took him, to be honest. Probably Squid, now that I think about it. I robbed his house yesterday, needed some gold.” He spoke bluntly, weird. He usually is super upbeat and energetic. Maybe there was an arc going on, yeah.

“Oh, well, I hope you find it. I could help, If you want.” You said politely, hoping he'd let you. It was getting boring, just building.

“No, I got it. I appreciate it, though. Seeya.” He left. What was going on? Had you missed a chapter??

You watched his character run away and into a mine near a mountain. You decided to leave him alone, maybe he was just in a bad mood. You continued to build your house, starting on the second floor.

Weeks had gone by with you still in the SMP and Dan hasn't changed. You tried to bring it up and ask if he was okay but he'd just say "It's my character."

You wanted to believe him, but you just couldn't. It bothered you so much, his tone started to decrease your mood in streams. The chat began to notice you becoming more pessimistic.

You accidentily broke the wrong block, “I screwed that up.”

You placed the wrong block, “I can't do anything right.”

You got attacked by a zombie, “I suck at this game.”

It affected you so much that you couldn't even tell if you were role-playing anymore. You would say something depressing in character but caught yourself thinking. “Would my character even say that?” It was a nightmare.

Eventually, everyone in the SMP noticed and needed to do something about it. James tried to comfort you, but he wasn't the best at it. He kept bringing bees into it.

Then Justin gave it a shot, but he ended up getting distracted with something completely unrelated. Did nobody care? Has everyone just ignored Dan? He was the reason behind all this, after all.

Just as you were about to give up and log off, Dan showed up at your house. You jumped at the sudden british accent in your ears.

“Hello? Can I come in?” You turned, staring at the blocky character opening and closing your door. Finally, an explanation for his behavior! You let him in and watched your screen as he walked in.

He let out a breath.

“I'm.. really sorry, for how I've been treating you. I had been so nervous to talk to you so I thought being more mean would make you leave me alone. So I wouldn't have to feel bad for ignoring you, but it only made me feel worse. I can tell it affected you too. I'm sorry, Jay.” His character spun around and looked at the ground.

You couldn't help but smile at the silly role-play, but you were still upset at him.

“Why would you be nervous? It's not like I'm a celebrity or anything.” You asked, crossing your arms as your chat was spilling with interest and "dramaaa".

“Is that right? Come on, everyone adores you.” He said, still looking the opposite direction until he finally spoke again, turning to face you.

“Well, at least..” he paused and looked away for a monent. “I do.” He looked back.

...what?

You stared at the screen in disbelief, your chat going crazy and freaking out. You didn't know what to say. Was he.. no, no he wasn't role-playing. Dan, The Diamond Minecart just said he loves you.

Your face went red and you couldn't help but giggle. You turned away from him and went up to the second floor of your house to finish it. Mumbling something on the lines of “Need to finish..”

“You're blushing.” He followed you up the stairs, invading your pixelated personal space. What an ass.

“Leave me alone!” You playfully hit him, his character jumping away with a red tint. He scooted closer, now whispering into the mic.

“You like me.”

“No, I don't.”

“Liar.”

After a few seconds, you turned back at him and logged off. You heard him chuckle for a while before also logging off. You tabbed back to the call to leave.

“I win. Seeya later, Jay.” He said before leaving the call.

You couldn't help but smile widely, feeling butterflies and biting your lip. You ended the stream and left your desk to go to bed, laying down with your phone. You could barely sleep, your mind running wild thinking about Dan.

[hajihiko]

I am sad and in need of my bed

SO MY QUESTION FOR YOU RUMPS IS

How do you think the dr2 characters cope with the big sad, what kind they are (good and bad), and who comes to help em out :)

(if you say hajime for assistance because he’s technically the ultimate therapist you’re gonna get your shoes stolen /lh/nsrs)

Hajime.

BUT not because hes the Ultimate therapist, rather because he is very adept at making people feel comfortable. Meta-wise, this is because he's the protagonist of a character-heavy game that encourages you to form a bond with at least one NPC, and most of the NPCs are jerks. Of course you want some encouragement or rewardl and your reward is the NPC opening up and trusting you, the player character.

But since we're not viewing the characters as NPCs in a game, in-world it comes out as Hajime getting even the most suspicious, awkward and stand-offish people to like him enough to overcome some of their issues, meaning he's just a comfortable dude.

So, besides Hajime;

Akane: ignores the big sad for as long as she can. Might have a little breakdown but still tries to get over it way before she's ready by distracting herself or pretending like a comfort worked 100% ("now that I've cried for half a minute I'm FINE haha see ya"). She would go to Kazuichi for distractions and someone who will probably do the crying for her. Slowly starts being open to Fuyuhiko's offer of talking things out, but only when she's already done being sad.

Sonia: Even if she is big sad in private, she has a hard time being real with it in front of others because she tends to pop into inspiration mode. She might pep talk herself (and others) several times without any real progress because she isnt letting it out. Eventually she'll yell and cry and then actually feel better afterwards. I think besides Hajime shed split pretty easily between Akane and Fuyuhiko, who are both awkward around big emotions but ultimately also very helpful.

Kazuichi: Feels big emotions all the time and sadness is a big part of it. He is very capable of feeling the things- its hiding them that's the problem- so he's used to it, but a linger melancholy cloud that doesnt go away even when he's done sobbing about it is a bigger problem. I think he would go to Sonia if he needed point-blank merciless advice (he is careful though, between not wanting to seem like he's pressuring her and not being able to take rejection when he's already so depressed) or Akane for comfort.

Fuyuhiko: it's kinda complicated because he was actually fairly good at dealing with grief in-game (once he was past the passive suicidal ideation) but that was in the middle of a murder game and. I think he would be the type to push it aside for as long as something bigger needs doing, but he suffers for it when there's nothing else to focus on. He feels better when he thinks he has some control so besides Hajime he goes to Souda, who a) has no room to judge and b) wont dare to snitch or get too mushy.

The ones most likely to intentionally seek out the sad people are probably Fuyuhiko (as with Akane post Nekomaru death) and Souda (again Akane & Nekomaru's death). Probably Sonia too? Just based on vibes (and she got Fuyuhiko a get-well-soon present).

Hajime definitely feels like the type to isolate when he actually feels the sad, but he's more likely to get frustrated or listless than outright sad (he also does not have a crying sprite in the game). I think who he goes to is really dependant on what he wants out of the interaction. With Akane, it's easy to forget anything is wrong, but she'll also be a big strong pillar to lean on. Souda is great with distractions and emotional validation (easily affected by other people's moods). Sonia cheers people up and doesnt let anyone get away with wallowing, and Fuyuhiko is a good conversationalist and has experience with actually handling grief (fun fact, all of Fuyuhiko's FTEs revolve around just talking, mayhaps because he has no hobbies besides crime but who knows) .

[osarina]

beloved mrs dazai,

good evening dearest <3. i wanted to write you a simple appreciation letter, due to the occasion of you posting fics literally whenever i need a soothing, angsty break.

your writing captivates my exhausted heart and mind.

it enchants my imagination beyond words can express, as well as soothes all those pesky, stress-induced wrinkles in my brain.

your literary comprehension delineates a strong urge to write on my own, even though i don’t think i could ever come close to the profound understanding you have of not just your fics characters, but your organization and planning of a flawless storyline as well :>.

not to mention your stellar online personality, never failing to leave me with a smile on my face after reading—and sometimes even relating to—some of the most hilarious questions, comments, and concerns ive ever had the chance to encounter.

to wrap it all up, i will never forget the heartfelt damage you have inflicted on me. i will never be able to erase the vehement scars i have suffered from your absolutely immaculate writing and personality.

neither do i want to.

yours always,

secret admirer :) <333

(too scared to not put anon, but also love your hashtags on responding anons with the name secret admirer;

3 last things: don’t forget you are awesome always no matter what any anon like me or close individual has to say about it, promise to never stop being you, and i hope you have the loveliest of nights for the rest of your life.)

wow. you know i read this ask when i got it and i literally started crying bc it was so sweet and then i felt so bad because i literally had NO time to give u a heartfelt response in return BUT I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW MY SWEET LIL LOVE BUG that whenever i started getting depressed about exams and stressed about everything, i came to reread this and it always made my heart feel so warm and always boosted my mood

bUT ANYWAY this is genuinely the sweetest & most poetic thing anyone has ever said to me AND IM READING IT AGAIN NOW AND IM STARTING TO TEAR UP AGAIN literally words cannot convey how many emotions (positive) ur ask has made me feel

bUT NONNIE i have to WHOLEHEARTEDLY DISAGREE BECAUSE I LITERALLY KNOW JUST FROM THIS ASK THAT YOUR WRITING IS BEAUTIFUL AND I WOULD LITERALLY PAY ACTUAL MONEY TO READ A FIC FROM YOU i literally feel so lame replying to this so casually no lie because UR PROSE ???? out of this world i fear, it's so lovely nonnie u must promise me that you'll come back and give me the link to your fic if you ever decide to write and post pretty please with cherries on top

[jeannefostergoriot]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart x Marella Redek.

Reminder of who Marella is for understanding: she’s quite popular at Foxfire, even though pretty secret. Presented as someone that knows everything that’s going on, and kinda rules the school. But with a quite difficult familial situation. Soo.

« I can read your mind, “She’s having the time of her life” »: she seems to have fun, always smiling at school and happy.

« There in her glittering prime, the light refracts sequin stars off her silhouette every night »: as a sort of princess, she shines. I get a bit the prom queen vibe from Marella tbh.

« I can show you lies »: Sophie has to be reminded a few times of Marella’s story. It doesn’t show.

« Cause I’m a real tough kid, I can handle my shit »: her problems, her mother’s mood swings, her father doesn’t seem very present, she made herself tough.

« They said “Babe you gotta fake it till you make it” and I did »: she did. We don’t remember half the time, we don’t see, she went into the war against Neverseen as nothing just cause she wanted to be useful.

« Lights, camera, bitch smile »: own the world, she repeats everyday before going to school.

« Even when you want to die »: even when it’s chaos at home, Caprise is in a bad state, even when Marella is worried, even when Marella is scared.

« He said he’d love me all his life, but that life was too short »: this is, for Marella, when she gets in an argument with her mother, I’m sure it happens, and she feels bad, and unloved.

« Breaking down I hit the floor »: I have this feeling, which you can argue, that it happens to her pretty regularly to just break down on bad days, cry in her room and unable to move.

« All the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting “More!” »: it’s more everyday. School, being prom and rumors queen, helping her mother, learning to control her pyrokinesy, taking active part in the war.

« I was grinning like I’m winning, I was hitting my marks »: she is playing her role. We don’t see her much in the series before Stellarlune, but evertime we catch a glimpse of her, Sophie is admirative. So she is playing the role every time.

« Cause I can do it with a broken heart »: I say her heart is scattered. If not of romance. At least for her mother.

« I’m so depressed I act like it’s my birthday, everyday ». Yeah I know elves don’t celebrate birthdays. But the idea of playing transform everyday in a party feels very Marella.

« I’m so obsessed with him but he avoids me, like a plague » *looks towards lava cake and the fact that a non-acknowledging Fitz would avoid her*. But apart from that, she probably had to revisit her social circle when her Talent was activated, and some may have started to avoid her.

« I cry a lot but I’m so productive »: listen. Everyone in this group has a whole notebook of 2AM poetry/drawings/songs. Or piles of crafted things. Second, she probably goes to train every moment she feels bad. Therefore is productive.

« It’s an art »: she’s an art.

« You know you’re good when you can even do it with a broken heart »: that’s the encouragement she gives herself everyday

« I can hold my breath, I’ve been doing it since he left »: been holding her breath forever, even more since she unlocked her Pyrokinesy.

« I keep finding his things his drawers, crucial evidence I didn’t imagine the whole thing » I dunno. Maybe about her role, her involvement with the black swan before book 9. Like. She was in the team. She had her talent activated. And then she disappeared for a good while. But she sets things on fire. She has training. So she didn’t imagine it.

« I’m sure I can pass this test ». Any bad day is just life playing yo-yo. Destiny testing. She can do it. That’s how she thinks.

« In stilettos for miles »: girl is swag and fashion. She wears the stilettos.

« He said he’d love me for all times, but that time was quite short »: as the « He said he’d love me all his life, but that life was too short », talks of her family, her mother.

« You know you’re god… And I’m good! Cause I’m miserable, and nobody even knows! »: since she convinced herself that’s how it works. And no one really sees she’s behind. She’s feeling less fine someday. And nobody knows.

[matenrou-fan]

Random hypmic characters with depressed s/o who's have low self-esteem!

NB reader, comfort, fluff, cuddling and kissing, mention of depression

Doppo, Ramuda, Rosho

Doppo

-Oh dear.. How can you?

-In Doppo eyes you are the most perfect human in the world, both in appearance and in personality

-You're so kind, so cute, so caring.. Your eyes so deep, so fascinating.. Your hair is so soft, your scent is so sweet.. He can sit and list all things that he loves in you endless...!

-He do know that he can't change your mind in one second, but he will try his best to make you feel more confident, to make you think about yourself as good as he thinks about you

-Telling you every day how adorable you look in the morning and whisper you before go to sleep how happy he is to be next to you, that you the only one who makes him happy

-Of course he will improve his self-esteem too, so you would have a good role model near you, he will stop telling bad things about himself in front of you, afraid that his negative thoughts also have some effect on your mind

-Always here to cheer you up, even when he feel almost dead after his hard work, he steel will sit with you, comforting with hugs and kisses.. He may be too tired to give you a proper advice or tell you something warm but at least he's here, he's ready to listen and to soothe you as he plays with your hair and caresses your back.. You can cry as much as you want, he will not go away until you feel better

-When he have a weekends he will make sure to spend it with you, especially if you feel worse than usual in last few days, helping you with everything. He know how hard it can be when you have a bad mood, so he will help you clean your room, cook your favorite dish and even help you take a bath and brush you hair, if you feel so much weak and powerless

-Doppo can be pretty enthusiastic, he really wants to help you in your fight with illness. He also depressed, but it's just means you two can help each other become better versions of yourself! It's more easier to walk straight when you hold someone's hand, don't you think?

-"I know it's hard to believe in yourself sometimes.. But you are much more better than you think.. And I love you just the way you are..." - Doppo embrace you softly, trying to show all his love and support in this hug - "I know that it's probably would sound stupid from someone like me.. But you just need to realise how truly beautiful you are.."

Ramuda

-He just can't believe!! You, his precious dollface?!

-He start to be much more clingy to you, hugging you tightly, always holding your arms when you're in public.. He will even carry you in his arms, it's doesn't matter if you're much more taller than he or not, he's surprisingly strong

-This way he wants to show you just how much he adores you, that you just so cute and adorable to him...!

-Always so babbly, cheerful and sweet, he's trying to make you smile with his little games and teases, acting even more childish than usual

-But if you feel really bad he of course will stop all this stuff and get so much serious, sitting with you on his sofa, letting you lay down on his laps as you cry

-He will cooing to you softly as he plays with your hair, carefully listen to your whines, talking about all things that worrying you, giving some advices

-You will be even surprised just how deep and soothing his voice can be, so different from his casual high pitched tone..! But it's comforts you so much

-Ramuda isn't really depressed but he also have so much problems, something you're not aware of, so he can understand why you sometimes just wants to lay down and cry, and he will lay down with you too, cuddling and whispering softly

-Will try everything too bring smile back at your face - here's some of his favourite candies, and here's, look, look, here's a new clothes that he sew only for you, ooh, and here's his favorite movie, wanna watch together?

-Although he doesn't know how to help with depression, he will at least try to cheer you up and give you all his support when you feel down

-Your new morning routine is to wake up by Ramuda, as he sit on top of you, pepper your face with soft small kisses

-"This one for being such adorable sleepy head, and this one for having such cute eyes, and this one for hugging me in your sleep, and this one.." - you giggle, asking him to stop but he just leans closer, hugging you tightly - "How can I stop? I need to show you, dolly, all of my affection, so you will always remember that you have me and my cute sweet love, okay?"

Rosho

-Oh, it's break his heart so much

-Such an angel as you, who's always bright his day, and feel like this?

-Then he will try his best to support you as much as he can...!

-When he was in conflict with Sasara, he also was pretty depressed, he didn't know what to do and he feel himself as the worst person in the planet, so he do understand you

-But now he healed, and he know how to help you feel better, offering all kinds of things: his psychologist that helps him a lot, this exercise regimen that will make you feel fresh, and this healthy diet that will make you more strong, and also this-

-He can be pretty stubborn, always checking your well-being, making sure you sleep enough and rest well, he know how much physical condition affects psychological one

-Also, of course he's always here when you need to cry and to complain a little, his soothing voice tell you some good advice, some deep warm words as he patting your back while you sit on his lap

-Due to his work he wakes up much early than you but he will left you some little notes of how cute you look when you sleep and what an amazing person you are

-He will never blame you for being lazy, you still recovering after all, so it's not a problem for him to make you a breakfast (with another cute note "don't forgot to eat, my star"), to prepare you an outfit ("you will look so cute in this, darling "), to clean your table from all trash ("love you, take care of yourself")

-He can be pretty busy but he will call you during class change just to ask how are you today and reminds you just how beautiful and charming you are for him

-It's sometimes hard to show his romantic side, but he will throw away his shyness, showering you with compliments, kisses and cuddles

-You his precious little star, and he will do anything to prove to you how adorable, cute and beautiful you're in his eyes

-"There's no other person in the whole world who will be as good as you, darling.. You always will be the most important thing in my life, and I'll make sure to tell you this everyday" - he mumbles to you quietly, hugging you soft and kissing your forehead - "I will be always here for you, okay? No matter what.."

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

I have stopped screaming and crying and now I am just numb. I guess that is a bit of a breakthrough because normally I don't scream and cry at all until much later.

I think it's the autism I have always had a severely delayed reaction to things but this time it was so bad it just took me over.

I opened up Facebook to find that yet another friend of mine took his own life.

I am almost to the point that either I am losing count of the friends and relatives who have died by Suicide or I am just breaking down and blocking them all out.

That was my friend Ben. By the time I met him he was already in a relationship and so was I but we hung out a lot. We would send each other songs that we liked and I was really attracted to him. That is not a very good picture he was so much more handsome on his better days.

It's like meeting the man of my dreams and then meeting his beautiful wife

The girl on my other side is his girlfriend Laura and they were together for years. Then I'm not sure what happened but suddenly they were not posting together on Facebook anymore and Ben was posting more and more rather scary sounding statuses.

He had told me that he had tried to kill himself several times. And I guess we bonded over that.

That was when we worked together. We were all friends his girlfriend, myself, and the music and art teacher who were married. One time they even made a band together and played gigs around town. It was because of them I found out about this awesome band called Murder Monroe. Those were truly the best times. Before covid happened and before the venue which was a coffee shop and music venue didn't survive the covid shutdown and went out of business.

Later on after he & Laura moved away he would put cryptic status on Facebook and I would message him and ask him if he wanted to talk and send him my favorite songs to try to comfort him.

He would always send me the same song back when he was in that mood. And it was kind of a song about how maybe if we had met in a different time things would be different.

Other times he would send me awesome videos of him playing guitar.

I drew this picture 5 years ago when I got a call telling me that one of my former students ---whom I was very close to --killed herself at the age of 13.

I still think it sums up exactly how I feel every time this happens.

I am so heartsick and just at a loss. We had not communicated since Christmas and he had only posted on Facebook of very few times with anything personal. The few times he did post it would be him saying how depressed he was and how he had no friends. And I would always message him and let him know he wasn't alone and ask if I could help and after a while he just didn't respond.

I'm glad he is no longer in pain but oh my God I just wish he could have hung in there.

I can't imagine what his ex-girlfriend is going through having been with him for nearly 10 years. She said in

her post that a few weeks ago he blocked her and then of course we find this out today.

Ben Benavides was a special ed teacher, a 4th/5th grade teacher. He was an introvert who was clinically depressed. He was a guitarist, he was a music fan, he was a great listener, he gave the best hugs, he felt things far more deeply than anyone else did.

He gave his all to his students to the point that he would nearly have nervous breakdowns over the stress of not being able to help them enough. He was a goth, he was a metalhead.

I didn't know him as long as most and yet he touched my life profoundly.

My dear Ben,

I am better for having known you and I am so pissed off that you left me and left this world.

Goodbye Ruby Tuesday who could hang a name on you when you change with every new day still I'm going to miss you.