#shut up im emotional

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[voidzphere]

thinking about how touch starved reaper is

can you imagine being him and feeling your significant other brush their fingerz against your wingz for the first time.

can you imagine being him and finally being able to feel their hand in yours

[bog-teeth]

ok so ik tumblr is a site of secrets and mystery but!!!!!!!! shut up this is important to me for other reasons

when i got tumblr way back when and followed artists and the like, one of the ones i really REALLY looked up to posted a milestone of 400 followers on here. and in that moment i went "wow" and became determined to make art that would make others feel the same way i did abt their art.

and now im here. at 400! which, in a way, i have become the person i looked up to in 2019. heres to making a younger me proud and to an art filled future :]

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[catharsistine]

The scene in the Barbie trailer when Barbie is skating around with Ken and asks "Why is everyone staring at me?"

THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE AN ADOLESCENT GIRL.

Living in Barbieland (childhood girlhood) but then suddenly you're all grown up in the real world subject to scrutiny and sexualisation (the guy slapping Barbie's ass) and feeling like existing is a crime?

Being forced by adult men into a box (which leads to the not like other girls syndrome) and exploring the 'real world' (being forced to grow up too quickly) while fighting the realisation that maybe the world sucks and being a woman is so difficult while hoping with all your heart that it's not always going to be this way.

Losing touch with the very things that made you happy because they're considered immature and girly? (The group of teens that said they hadn't played with Barbies since they were five.)

Older women telling you that you have to learn the truth about the world and that you can never have your old life back (Kate Mckinnon's Barbie) despite it being the only thing you yearn for, but also older women being a bright spot and support (the old woman on the bench) in the endless slough of life.

And this is just the trailer!!! I'm so excited for this movie I can't breathe, Greta Gerwig the woman that you are 😭

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

"You said you love me exactly the way I am"

[just-null]

Plz… do you have any yandere clone crumbs (or headcanons even)? I love this trope lmao

YOUR CULT LEADER IS SO GLAD YOU ASKED

[LONG yandere ramblings under the cut!]

THESE ARE ALL RANDOM STREAMS OF THOUGHTS. THERE'S NO ORDER. ALSO I'M NOT A WRITER SO FORGIVE ANY ERRORS!!!

General

They're all interested in the same type of person for different reasons. So if you catch the interest of one, you'll soon catch the interest of the others.

The clones are also pathological liars like the main body.

They're scrappy unfair fighters.

They'd all have a common trait of imposing themselves into your life. Whether or not you want to see them, they'll always pop up uninvited.

That and being disgustingly clingy to the point you can barely breathe without one of them there to share your air.

Their violence varies, but rest (un)assured that it is always an option for them, yes, even Hantengu.

Even if different, sometimes it really shows that they're a single unit.. sooner or later, your hands will be full with a bunch of annoying, needy, lying, terrible, and problematic assholes. 

They're all more intense than the average human. To them, a human life is as insignificant as an ant. They'd kill someone for the hell of it, or if it's an order from Muzan. That view doesn't change much if you're in the picture.

Now it's just a matter of not scaring you too much, hence, Hantengu’s chronic lying problem. They want to be the ones you rely and lean on. to feel comfortable with! Don't mind the blood. It's not like you haven't seen it on them before!

Relax, they truly never want to hurt you!!

Hantengu

Starting off with our man of the hour, Hantengu. He's aligned with delusional and obsessive types of yanderes, one who's too afraid to approach you but watches you from afar nonetheless.

You'd have to make an effort to find him since he'd most likely be shrunk into his tiny form and hidden in some small crevice.

It started off as a simple fascination. You probably made contact with him in his human disguise (accidental or not.) As he cowered, you were pretty decent.

It was a surprising but welcoming change of pace from the usual villains who'd try to harm him, but he still fled from you. He was going to eat you no doubt, but he kept putting it off until he lost his appetite.

He's terrified you might do something to him, that you'll hurt him! but the attention you gave him makes him yearn for your company. He wants to watch you all the time and quite literally, will do just that.

Hantengu's there when you wake up and when you go to bed. He's living somewhere in your home. Always watching.

With the ability to shrink very small and run extremely fast, you'd think you might have rats in your home. Each time you think you hear a snap, the rat traps always end up broken to pieces.

He sends his clones in his stead to test the waters after getting far too worried once you leave his sight. If you don't hurt them, then he'll know you're not so bad! Still won't approach, but a bit more calm when he's "around." or when they invade your life. 

Assuming the clones never stray too far from the main body (if they're physically able to or not, doesn't really matter) they never want to leave Hantengu unprotected, which means your home is the main base.

You can move, try running away, get help, or whatever, but it's all futile because Hantengu will hide in your items meaning the others will always end up finding you with him.

it's a rule of thumb for the Hantengus not to mention him for safety reasons and because he's already terrified as is and any unwarranted attention is probably bad... He'd be horrified to be under your gaze for long, which is why he prefers you with your eyes closed.

Hantengu is like your sleep paralysis demon. At the dead of night, he peeks out from wherever he's hiding and watches you.

With demonic speed, any flinch or shuffle from you has him hiding again, but if you awaken and keep your eyes closed, you can hear faint crying and sniffling while you slumber.

If it makes you uncomfortable or ruins your sleep, Hantengu doesn't put two and two together, it can't possibly be him. What a travesty..!

It'd be difficult to try and make contact since he's always watching from the sidelines or cowering and hiding away, but it'll get easier eventually when it's drilled into him that you won't be like the people he's met.

He genuinely believes that the world is full of evil villains that may hurt you, so if he sees someone that worries him, the clones will zero in on them.

Hantengu has a dangerously powerful influence on them.. combine that with his victim complex? terrible.

Sometimes all Hantengu needs is a single seed of doubt to be implanted in his mind before he's lying to everyone and deluding himself that you're getting manipulated.

That's when his clones step in, scouting out the place for the possible source of the problem. That or pick off random people one by one before you're back in their arms!

But it's not his fault that you're surrounded by overprotective, suffocating freaks! Trust!!

The upside is if you meet him, he's extremely docile. He doesn't do much aside from cower and weep, begging you not to hurt him. Attempts to hide are futile if you tell him to stay... like a deer caught in headlights. ironic.

One of the others are probably always in the room, if not all of them, making your interactions even more awkward. 

Once Hantengu warms up to the idea of having you know about his existence, you'd mostly find him in the pockets of your clothes or in areas where your trinkets would be strewn about.

It’s highly unlikely that he’d be violent in front of you, but that doesn't mean that the others won't be, (for his and your safety they say) Hantengu just cries about things or trembles at most with every sound making him flinch, huddling behind you in some way.

Hantengu often forgets he can go to his full height, usually being the size of your foot or smaller. If he's tiny, you'll see how he's a really harmless and defenseless victim of the world!

Nevermind how you sometimes catch the scent of blood coming from your home, only to find him cowering at the scene of a crime.

Depending on your demeanor, you're either a victim like him so you MUST stick together, or you're his savior.

He feels that safety and contentment when around you, but would rather stay on the side lines than risk anything. It's as if watching you do your daily routine is his stress relief.

It's absolutely awful if you're in danger or out of his line of sight for long. No reports from one of his clones? No most recent update to your whereabouts? No one is with you to inform him!?

Full panic attacks and inconsolable babbling about how you must be dead!! The world is so cruel and awful to him!!!

These types of reactions agitate the others, making them more worried if they're also in the dark. It's possible Hantengu would use Urami to go and find you himself in these rare instances. It'd be a disaster, but at least he'd have peace of mind..

At least you don't have to worry about Hantengu being jealous though. He's pretty tame, too focused on being afraid of everything else. The others handle his jealousy for him so that he doesn't worry.

Sekido

A mixture of highly jealous and possessive type, secretly protective as well! A mean tsundere is what you usually see, if not his common form of verbal abuse if he's too worked up.

The subtle flush on his cheeks takes the edge off his words if it's directed at you even if he blames it on being red in the face with anger because of you or [x] reason.

First impressions were probably that you were extremely annoying and would suggest eating you to the others whenever a situation arose. Thankfully the others prevented that from happening.

Sekido is one out of the two who'd accidentally hurt you. He never means to, but he forgets his own strength. In the beginning, instead of trusting you to follow him, he'd grab your wrist and drag you around with him to wherever he needed to be.

You could run away when he's not looking and cause an unwanted commotion, so it's best to have you on a tight leash leading to bruising sometimes..

Out of all of them, Sekido needed the most time to warm up to you. When he'd realized he'd fallen for you, he'd already be cursing at himself for being so blind to it earlier.

It started off as moments where his irritation calmed then snowballed into a bliss he only knows if he's by your side.

You'd think he genuinely hates your guts at times. The way he gets so angry and harshly insults you can take a toll. If he senses he's cut you deep, he still won't apologize verbally.

Knowing himself, saying anything would only hurt you more, he's too rough with phrasing that it wouldn't sound genuine. How is it his fault that you're so fragile?

Sekido has too much pride, but a lot of it is in constant conflict with his love for you. It's what gets him so frustrated when thinking about it. You make him feel disgustingly mushy inside, and he wants to tear out his heart and tell it to get a grip.

He probably doesn't speak to you for a few days, instead choosing to act while you're not looking to regain favor. 

Making food you'd like, inviting you to spend time indoors, buying you small gifts, and even cleaning up around your place. Wordless actions that come off as apologies for his temper that he’ll make SURE won't go unnoticed.

If you confront him, he huffs with his back towards you as if it were nothing but takes credit for it regardless.

Sure, he's the oldest, but Sekido still has his moments of immaturity like the other three. If he had it his way, he'd refuse to let anyone speak to you, almost isolating you, so his acts of service really shine through.

What if someone tries getting your favor by taking advantage of his supposed mistakes? It's extremely insulting that anyone would even dare try! Infuriating even!

The only people he'd allow you to speak with are his clones and main body. But like everything, it depends on his mood or the situation.

Is it REALLY necessary to talk to someone else when Sekido is RIGHT THERE?? No. It's not. Now shut up and eat the sweets he got you.

Sekido doesn't do PDA, but violence will always be on the table, never hesitating if someone gets near you, or looks at you too long.

He says he's the best clone to take when going out, but he’s punched too many bystanders as a warning far too many times... You're lucky if he simply verbally abuses someone until they're crying or humiliated.

You can say the handsome man with the red eyes has grown a reputation in town.

You also gain a reputation as someone who’s EXTREMELY off limits, dangerous even. While Sekido isn't as affectionate or sweet as the others, the things he lets slide when it comes to you make it obvious that you're his favorite person.

“Are you trying to die? Even insects have more survival instincts than you.” and all you did was bump into him. Sekido dusts himself off and gives you a once over, subtly making sure you're okay before he continues with whatever he was doing.

Were it anyone else, he would’ve swung his staff at them for even getting near him.

You're given special treatment because, to Sekido, you ARE special. On rare occasions, he'll even verbalize his fondness for you, even if it's worded as if he were reprimanding.

Just don't be so blind to the hints he's throwing at you and he won't have to beat your face in.. specifically your lips with his lips, very roughly, until you're both bruised and breathless.

When Sekido needs to be away from you for whatever reason, he knows you're okay. He entrusts you to the others in his absence, but his mind starts wandering to how he misses your hands on his.. 

It's different remembering it and seeing it, if you were there, you could touch him and he could reciprocate. It'd be even better if you were both alone—and now, someone’s interrupting his thoughts.

Frustration bubbles up and he's ready to snap at someone. What could be so damn important!?

If Sekido comes back with blood on his person, just don't ask, he's already annoyed and he's seeking solace with you.

You flip a switch in him. Your warmth, your presence, your voice, it’s like serenity to his vexed soul. He sits comfortably beside you when he has to plan for something.

It helps him think clearly but, he doesn't let go of your wrist..

His grip is unnaturally tight too, so you're stuck there unless you want to risk Sekido getting frustrated again because his personified peace wants to get up and do something, at least, that's what he says.

Even if it holds some truth, when you whittle Sekido down enough, he confesses that, in a weird way, he's constantly worried for you.

You're not as strong as them and he knows this, but it's clear as day when he's calm enough.

Not that he needs to, but Sekido takes the responsibility for not only keeping himself alive, but Hantengu and more importantly you. 

If anything were to happen to you, he doesn't know what he'd do. So instead he acts as the most aggressive guard dog ever and keeps any unknown presence as far from you as possible.

Moments of peace with you don't happen often for him, so please stay a while longer? The others will barge in any minute now, so indulge him a little until then?

And don't speak a word about it to anybody or else he’ll destroy your home and everything inside it!

Karaku

Extremely self aware, obsessive type. He knows how to properly court someone, that everything they're doing crosses many lines, but this way is much more entertaining.

You were just another random face in the beginning that he just shrugs and tries to find enjoyment in by tormenting, but as he interacts more with you, he finds it more invigorating than anything else.

He starts going easier on you, opting for just teasing. Dragging you into spending time with him is surprisingly more fun than a battle lately..

Whether you like him back or not isn't even important. As long as you have SOME level of affection for him and don't forget to give him some attention, he's satisfied.

Everything is fun when it comes to you and while he'd IDEALLY like you to reciprocate his feelings and be obsessed with him, he just needs an inch for the mile he'll take!

It's not like he will actively make you hate him, but he'll definitely try coaxing you into things you might not be eager for.

I doubt there's much that can upset him in general, much less if it's you. You're so attractive and entertaining to him, all your reprimands and insults go in one ear and out the other.

He laughs and agrees to whatever you said, brushing it off, then tries nudging you into moving on and doing something that doesn't upset you! Like doing him!

O-or.. if you're not in the mood right now, that's fine. There's a bunch of other fun stuff that you two can do!

With all that, Karaku's still aware that you'd be uncomfortable with him shoving all his affection onto you, getting possessive, and even beating some people up for the hell of it.

But he also knows people can learn to get used to things they can't escape and get desensitized, so he attempts to do just that and ease you into your new life!

He's still affectionate, it's Karaku! He doesn't force you into anything too intimate. Physical touch may be his go-to, but holding you and hugging you is the most he'd do unless he gets hints that he may be allowed to do more.

Out of everyone, he's the most relaxed, which isn't saying much. If you say you're going somewhere he hears we’re going somewhere, but at least you can go near strangers without him hurting anyone.

When spending time with the others, he knows he can just butt in, or do something that'll force your attention on him. Even if people try talking to you, he's not upset, just amused.

Very confident Karaku is.. any attempt someone tries with you is hilarious to him since he knows you're likely to reject them. He only gets slightly miffed if YOU'RE the one coming onto others.

“Oi~ You're really greedy, you have all of me and yet you still want other's attention? ..How about you try convincing me a little and I won't make that much of a fuss, yeah?” as if he's not always trying to hold you in the most PDA way possible… 

Karaku loves to show off how he's taken even if it makes you embarrassed. You're cute when flustered anyway so that's just another plus!

When you're gone he's sooo~ bored. It reminds him of that itch he had before he met you where life was too dull and he needed that stimulation only chaos could provide.

Unfortunately, chaos is like a storm, and the clouds dissipate eventually. So what does he do? Create his own storms, of course!

Karaku is a renowned pleasure seeker, sexual or not. Since he met you, the sexual part is reserved, so he's usually seeking fun in terms of mischief, adrenaline rushes, or destruction. 

Starting problems on purpose by provoking others to the point of a fight is his favorite especially if he can blow down buildings.

Some dishonorable mentions that aren't fighting are planting gross items into bags, spreading rumors, giving false information, and turning people against one another.

Overall things that would make you regret letting him out of your sight.

Karaku likes to make himself more appealing to you by boasting about small things. It could be the bare minimum, but you wouldn't know if he's exaggerating any tiny details!

Hearing your tastes and interests will have him leaning into that, but he's not going to change himself completely.

He's confident he can worm his way into your heart by being himself.

You should give him praise sometime! He didn't tease Sekido and make him so upset he blew a fuse. And! He didn't toy with anyone’s life before killing them this time! He also only used his uchiwa twice. max. and no buildings collapsed completely..

See? He's not that bad of a guy! You should trust him more, you'll hurt his feelings..!

He's the one who will also flirt with you the most, leaving lingering touches and casually inviting you for some bedroom fun. You could be in the middle of dinner and he'd ask if you're up for it later as if it's a casual thing between you two.

This guy.. he really REALLY likes you touching him.. from his hair to his arms, to his chest, and down his legs, whatever you want is yours. But it also makes him more reserved in a way? 

Someone tapping his shoulder gets him a little miffed. It's like someone is touching something of yours. Whatever, getting your hands all over him should fix that right up.

Karaku is an interesting case.. He portrays himself as an open book, but there's so much more than he lets on.

He makes mental notes of things you like and strictly hate, secretly helps balance everyone’s jealousy so you don't get burnt out, always there when you need him most, and is second to tend to you if Aizetsu isn't around.

Serious situations aren't his style, he’ll always try to be playful to lighten the mood, but you can see his ear twitch when he notices something’s wrong.

He's the second oldest after all, so he has the capability to be mature if he wants to.

But being a stick in the mud is Sekido’s job, so he works around it in his own pleasurable way!

There’s times even when he likes to take things slow and enjoy the moment with you around. Pleasure can be relaxation. While he loves being out and about, a nice quiet evening with you can be fun too.. even if he has to push you around a little too make it happen.

He likes how you make him feel whole, like he's not chasing after the unattainable satisfaction that's so close but so far.

Urogi

Intoxicated delusional type... Urogi believes you wouldn't do anything to hurt him on purpose and finds joy in your “shyness.” If you were to reject him or push him away, he laughs very loudly, “reassuring” you.

First impressions were pretty tense. He'd eye you like he's waiting for you to step wrong before feasting. Like those fangs suggest, he's a humanity's predator first and foremost and he wanted to keep it that way.

At least, he thought so until he played with his food too much and got attached. 

You later begin to be like a drug to him. He NEEDS you. Whether it be within earshot, field of vision, or (preferably) within arm's reach. If not, he gets super fidgety, nervous, restless. Can't sit still.

Similar to Hantengu except he begins getting impulsive and violent with anything or anyone around the longer you're away.

Usually, he thinks twice about slicing anything with his talons when you're around, he's too happy with your attention and knows you're pretty squishy! But if you're gone, the blood splatters make him feel better!

He misses you! Come back!! There are scratches and tossed furniture everywhere because Urogi attempted to calm himself with things that smell like you. Everything's just a mess, but he at least greets you the second you get home.

Cuddly and excitable! He'd tackle you in a hug and swing you around, or cling to you with his full body until you both tip over. Urogi likes your scent and warmth.

It's comforting, so he's constantly near you and touching you, sometimes fighting with the others cause he wants his turn.

Similar to Sekido, you're like a switch that flips to excited when you make contact of any kind, so it's not uncommon to find him clamoring to sit on your lap or lay his head somewhere on you when he sees you.

Again, like Sekido, Urogi can get jealous to the same levels as him. However, whereas Sekido would be violent and aggressive, Urogi is whiny and clingy. 

It's almost funny how he’s the one whose mood shifts the quickest. Even compared to Aizetsu, he's more likely to cry, or compared to Sekido, he'd lash out about something small.

But as his main emotion states, he'll always revert back to his gleeful self.

One second, he's complaining because you've been “ignoring” him for too long [three minutes] but cheers up if you so much as graze his skin, “Hahaha!! Okay, I forgive you!! Can we go out now? Oh! Oh! How about a kiss?!”

Joy may be better than when Urogi's upset, but it's still... pretty shameless like Karaku, except Urogi doesn't WANT to embarrass you on purpose.

He's got a loud voice and a one-track mind with you. Begging and asking isn't out of the realm of possibility for him either.

Something you can count on with these four is that they're honest in their feelings for you.

Urogi, being the one who's extremely raw in showing it, talks from the heart with no brain. What you see is what you get. Most of the time...

Urogi, like the others, has his moments of dishonesty, but it’s not his fault! He wants your love constantly so bends the truth about needing you in some type of way or that he was bullied!!!

He has a headache, take care of him! Oh, his left wing hurts, pet it for him, please? His feathers have been really bothering him lately, preen him? Yes, you did so yesterday, but they're bothering him again!! Also, Sekido was really mean for no reason again, stay with him so he doesn't get yelled at again!!

With how much he thrives under your attention, you'd wonder how he reacts with people who aren't you. Well, it's simple, if its not a fight, he leads back to you!

If someone ever talks to Urogi long enough there's a 90% chance he'll mention “someone” and ignore whatever they say.

When you're not the subject of the convo, he brings you up, interrupting the other's train of thought. Annoyingly so.. 

It gets particularly messy if he's conversing with the other three because then they'd forget about the original topic and get swept up with missing you instead.

Even the hobbies he has that aren't you, remind him of you.. in albeit concerning ways..

He likes to eat fleshy meat, but he gets reminded of how your skin feels under his hands. It'd be more flattering if he wasn't literally ripping the flesh off of something with his fangs, but he means well.

Sharing things he likes is a sign of love, right? That's why he brings you gifts! ..Like a cat bringing its owner dead mice except this cat is five foot nine and way more dangerous..

and the dead mice are limbs that can get you arrested............

It's terrifying to wake up to a mysterious blob of red meat, especially when Urogi says “It's the only thing that kinda resembles what it used to be!” but laughs in your face instead of explaining further.

A tongue was probably the most concerning thing that still had its original shape, but not surprising.

Urogi is unfortunately way too damn strong. He's the second one to accidentally hurt you after Sekido, his talons are extremely sharp and sometimes dig into you when he gets too excited. He tries not to, but even passing by he can nick you. 

Bandages are difficult for him to grab with his talons, and he feels terrible afterward, so he licks your wounds clean if you let him. Sure, it won't do much, but at least your blood smells delicious, and it makes him happy tasting it! 

Right, this isn't about him, right! 

There's something almost innocent about how Urogi acts with you. Even if you hate his guts, he’d still treat you like treasure. He can't bring himself to hate you no matter what you do.

He’ll get annoyed at times when you're too “coy,” sure, but never more than that or for long. 

He can be a handful, but you can tell he tries to give you a good happy relationship. One that he hopes makes you feel the same unending joy he feels even if it's a bit traumatic.

Aizetsu

Manipulative and stalking type. Aizetsu wants to get tasks over with as fast as possible. he doesn't have any motivation for it. He's tired and sad and wants to curl up into a ball and lay down.

First time meeting, Aizetsu didn't even spare you a glance. If you weren't food or a threat, then you might as well have been a poor wall or weird tree.

Giving him a taste of pampering is probably what slowly melted his cold walls.

Now that he has you, it's strange. He WANTS to get up and do things with you. The weight on his shoulders isn't as heavy when you're around. He wants to keep you near him always and if he has to be pathetic to do that, then he'll do it.

Sending cute sad glances your way, sighing after each word as if its tiring to breathe, constantly leaning or holding onto your clothes, whatever makes him look like he'd die without you is what he'll do. 

Aizetsu is more than capable like the other three if not the most. it's just that he doesn't need to do it, so he doesn't want to.

He purposely makes himself out like he's the “good” one, but he's just quieter. Unlike Karaku's boasting, Aizetsu wants you to see the worst in others so it makes himself look better by comparison.

Making others or himself seem pathetic is his strong suit, sometimes making his counterparts the brunt of that pity.

That or he takes a page out of Karaku's handbook and stirs the pot so they do the job for him. Sometimes they involve Aizetsu if they find out which makes him sad...

He pouts, looking at his counterparts fighting, and tells you how it's such a pity you're stuck with a rowdy bunch like them while knowing full well that he muttered something under his breath about Karaku mocking Sekido to make Urogi laugh while passing by.

It didn't happen, but it could've... it's okay, just stay with Aizetsu on the sidelines while they tucker themselves out.

Speaking of that, Aizetsu seldom lets you go. Like the others, he loves touching you, but the others let go eventually from some form of hyperactivity.

Aizetsu.. doesn't. His hand is always firmly grasping some part of your clothes while you walk, but if you're not using your arm, he'll hold that for you too.

You can try shaking him off, but it really wouldn't do anything except make him frown and grip tighter. You could ditch your clothes, it'll stun him for a moment until he's pouting again, but he’ll let you go.

Unfortunately you probably won't get your discarded clothes back for a while even if you apologize.

That and he’ll cling on again in five minutes if he's near. It's a force of habit.

Aizetsu's the strongest physically of the four, but tries his best to seem weak around you so you can spoil and love him more.

The second you leave him to figure out his own issues, you usually hear a loud thump then crack followed by Aizetsu's soft footsteps rushing to follow behind you.

Even with his crazy strength, he's the second least likely to spill blood.

Not because he's guilty or anything, don't be silly, but because he doesn't want to put effort into cleaning himself up, so you'll embrace him again. If you didn't care, then he'd be a bit messier.

Then again, he doesn't like how the dried blood feels in his hair, and he doubts he can get away with making you wash it for him every time.

Aizetsu is constantly upset, but he's not openly emotional aside from his usual declarations of sorrow. He doesn't cry easily, being in a constant state of sadness makes everything numb at some point, so it's something he expresses privately..

or, to persuade you into feeling bad for him further.

“Pitying others is only natural, but don't forget you have someone waiting for you always. I'd wither away without you.” He says that, but the others never see him waiting for anything when you're out.. Why? Because he never leaves you.

Sometimes you think you see a blue reflection from the corner of your eyes, but you check and nothing. Feeling like you're watched has been a constant lately since meeting the clones. Hopefully, it's just nerves.

But it's not!

Behind wall corners, in the shadows, amongst crowds, in closets, Aizetsu's always there. Watching with that same sorrowful pout. As mentioned earlier, he doesn't feel demotivated when doing things for you.

He's making sure you're safe and gathering more information. He wants to be precise when around you. How are you when you think they're not around? He'll find out. He always does.

Not that you notice much... He doesn't throw tantrums when you need to part from him like the others, only simple, “Really? Where are you going..?” and that's all for protesting. He's the “good one,” remember? He won't stop you.

Aizetsu gets a little sloppy with hiding his hobby(?) when he doesn't react to the new things and stories you intended to tell him. As if listening to a story again.

He's lucky he doesn't speak much or he would've filled in the details of the story you forgot about.

The downside of following you is that Aizetsu gets approached sometimes. Annoying... He's so gloomy, that he's sometimes approached by kind bystanders to check up on him. 

He doesn't speak to anyone as much anymore, only responding with nods and head shakes unless he's pitying someone. He's only “chatty” with you and his clones, more so you.

A tired look crosses his face when someone's being particularly bothersome. Say, the authorities or an insistent stranger for example. 

If you were with him, he'd look at you to fix it, but since you're not, he'll handle it himself. i.e. a precise swift jab to the throat that'll get them to keel over long enough for him to scamper somewhere else.

Zohakuten

Conflicting love hating attention seeker.. He can't help but hate how your mere presence makes the others and himself worse versions of themselves, but he can see why. Having your attention is like basking in the warmth of the sun again.. 

He rarely shows up, only when the four are panicked and desperate, but the first time is probably extremely tense........ he'd reprimand you for screwing up the minds of his clones and scaring the main body constantly.

He doesn't separate, wanting to see what the big deal is. Having Zohakuten follow you around or dragging you places while getting insulted, you're mostly babysitting him at this point.

He may not be a child in the usual sense, but he definitely uses his appearance to benefit himself. Big eyes, grumpy frown with his chubby cheeks and that usually gets people to believe him if he's lucky.

It's whiplash inducing when Zohakuten's face and way of speaking don't match (it's easy to forget that all these freaks have the mentality of an over two hundred year old man.) He uses an older way of speaking and their inflections.

He's not free from the common ground that is wanting your attention even if he's almost always complaining that you're the source of their corruption. yet he still doesn't try getting rid of you aside from a couple insults. Though it can get annoying when he's constantly on your case.

Zohakuten is extremely defensive of the main body. Hesitating when it comes to him isn't a problem. He's like Sekido where he punches as a warning in that sense.

He's very kind with Hantengu, and surprisingly you who now falls under the category of needing protection.

Hatred is part of his nature so if you're alone with him, that hatred focuses on you, but it's mixed with affection. He only really huffs at you and occasionally tries swatting you when you get too affectionate.

He's critical of his older clone counterparts. 

If there were a setting where Zohakuten coexisted with his them , he'd be very antagonistic even if it's to a lesser degree than opponents. He's going against them then complaining to you about it so you can be careful of their misdeeds!

He sees their actions as the main reason Hantengu gets bullied and falsely persecuted. they fool around too much instead of doing their job properly that it grinds Zohakuten's gears..

He'd probably call Karaku and Urogi manwhores for showing off so much skin. Sekido and Aizetsu are on thin ice but they'd still get called harlots for wearing their collars so open.

You're probably not free from his berating either but he excludes the derogatory insults.

Similar to Tanjiro in that one scene with Mitsuri, Zohakuten would grab your clothes and adjust it to be more modest. He can't have animals like those pigs looking at you!!!

That being said, Zohakuten is much more manageable compared to dealing with four smothering men.

Still.. he's less likely to listen to you and has a short fuse that can cause problems out of nothing. Plus, he's much MUCH stronger than what you'd be used to.

Luckily, there's moments when he tuckers himself out and he's quietly following you like a cat. He doesn't speak much then but glares at anything and anyone who gets too close.

He might look pettable, but don't do it or he might both claw at you and get a second wind.

It's best to stay alone with Zohakuten for as long as he's around. If someone else makes him or Hantengu upset, he'd focus his hatred into them and make up some deluded reason as to why they have to die.

They'll harm Hantengu first if they're allowed to live!! It'll be swift, but he can't promise it'll be clean.

It's pretty easy to get Zohakuten to get violent. it only really takes someone getting close to you or Hantengu until he's acting faster than you noticed he moved.

He doesn't really care if you get scared, it's all for the greater good. you're just spooked because his methods were taboo, but it's fine. Now all of you are safe..

He really likes trees and forests, so taking walks around there might be the safest bet.

Zohakuten wouldn't be as cuddly, more so because of some pride of holding himself up as the strongest pillar for Hantengu, but there are moments where he sighs and leans his head against you.

Being alone with you, Hantengu, and the peace of nature puts his mind at ease in a way it's not built for. Even his wood dragons come along, bellowing quietly and making the whole environment uncommonly calm. like he's almost a normal kid.

Serenity isn't forever of course and you must part from him eventually. It's not like he'll make it easy by any means though. His brattiness shines through here where he hides some essentials of yours that make it impossible for you to leave.

Your shoes, outdoor clothes, utilities, anything that'll make your life more difficult so you'll stay home. Yes, he knows you have a life outside, but he doesn't like it when you come home smelling different. It's concerning!

If you somehow manage to escape, you'll only see his hateful eyes from his safe spot in the darkness. Throughout the day, the occasional concern chill creeps up, and coming home reveals why.

It's a disaster. Everything is trashed and turned over in what looks to be a tornado hit. Except the tornado was just a small tyrant sulking in your bedroom. The tantrum didn't comfort him at all and all he wants is you.

When you come back, he's berating you and calling you the worst person imaginable! He grabs your arms tightly then nearly crushes your ribs in a hug.

He doesn't apologize, but helps clean up after he's done, wanting to spend time with you. It wasn't the same without you and he loathes how the difference is so tangible now.

It's unfair how he's tasked to protect you too, but now that he's met you, there's specific conditions that need to be met to be allowed to see you again. He's not here for long and people around you get to meet you whenever they'd like. it's really not fair!

Maybe after a while, Zohakuten would learn not to act first if you PROMISED to keep your interactions with others to a minimum.

Even If you don't, he'll remind you by cutting your conversation or starting an argument that'll quickly get lethal if not stopped in time.

The way this guy swears like a sailor is incredible. Very foul mouthed. He talks bad about people, even sometimes to their face. It's also painfully accurate. Zohakuten can really cut deep with his words alone.. even be problematic

so fingers crossed he doesn't slight the wrong person.

While he doesn't really need to, he tries getting you small trinkets to keep so he's with you when he's separated.

All stolen of course, or so the woman from the market says, but it's not true! he made it himself, what kind of person would spread lies like that?!

Note: Zohakuten is a platonic yandere. Like the boyfriend's bratty younger brother who likes you so he cock blocks everyone to hang out with you trope

You can try asking for help, but people have seen what they're like without you.. they're like a blender without a cap. The contents will go everywhere, and it'll be chaos. UNLESS, the blender has its cap, you.

With a heavy heart, people usually give you sympathetic glances if you ever do interact briefly and quick words of comfort if they can. at least you're well taken care of by those freaks.

i love them all theyre awful.....

Tl;Dr

Hantengu is delusional and obsessed, where he thinks you'll harm him if he gets too close, but can't stay away from you for long or else he freaks himself out Sekido is the jealous possessive mother fucker who's very rude but surprisingly gives you extremely special treatment. Karaku is the obsessed self aware one, but that's wasted because he loves causing problems on purpose and embarrassing you with love. Urogi is the Intoxicated delusional one because you gotta be delusional to be as happy as this guy.. also animalistic. Too raw about his feelings........ Aizetsu is the manipulative stalker. He acts like he's the good boy when he's just as shit as the others who also somehow knows everything about you. Zohakuten is the love-hate attention seeker. it infuriates him how you "wont leave his main body alone," but he secretly thrives on your attention and will cock block at every point and time.

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

[leenfiend]

we were like - rivals, you know? lance and keith neck and neck!

[adultemophase]

awww she’s grown up so much :)

(im going to buy a gun)

[copia]

THIRTY-ONE DAYS OF GHOST ⛧ DAY THREE

favourite song from Opus Eponymous — Con Clavi Con Dio

[MESSAGE FROM THE CLERGY] You are uncordially invited to attend the Ministry's conjuration for a night of infernal psalms. Be guided in praise of Sathanas by Papa Emeritus il Quarto; be led in worship of His Unholy Majesty; He shall rise, from precipice through birth. Tonight, siamo con il nostro Dio Scuro!

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[dontbotheraziraphale]

sorry but as an actor to be nominated for a role where the majority of the time the majority of your canvas is covered by sunglasses - it means you've done a damn decent job actually

[ghost-proofbaby]

never love an anchor (e.m. x reader)

"On some level, I think I always understood that a ship could never really love an anchor."

warnings: severe hurt/brief comfort, suicidal ideations, severely depressed reader. again: detailed recount of suicidal ideations. dead dove: do not eat.

wc: 5.8k+

an: i cannot emphasize this enough - this fic deals with a severely depressed, and blatantly suicidal reader. it is extremely heavy. it is extremely triggering. it is extremely self-indulgent. the romance aspect is ambiguous and the comfort aspect at the end is brief. this is a genuine, and sincerely personal piece of writing. it is an outline of how suicidal ideations may present themselves to some people. of these 5k words, 4k is deeply littered with reader's ideations without sugar coating. please, please, please do not read this unless you're in the state of mind to read it. you've surely heard it before but i'll say it just to be sure: it is a permanent solution for temporary feelings. and, just in case no one has told you, i'm glad you're alive. if you're reading this, i'm glad that you're alive. you're enough.

if you find yourself feeling like reader, i urge that you find resources such as those linked. hotlines, therapists, friends, your doctor, your family - please. i do not wish these emotions upon anyone, and they should never be taken lightly.

that being said, here are my guts from a very vulnerable moment, spilled out across the page. please handle them with care if you choose to read.

Technically speaking, the pressure that the human body is capable of handling almost seems infinite. When introduced slowly, and time is given to adjust, there is no pinpointed amount of pressure that dooms the human body. Like a crab in slow boiling water, your body should be theoretically able to handle a steady increase, bit by bit, and never truly notice. 

So why does it currently feel like you’re dying?

The pressure was never an overnight thing. It was a conglomeration you’d gathered, piece by piece, collecting little souvenirs of all the responsibilities you can’t currently remember if you’d ever agreed to along the way. It hadn’t been sudden, it hadn’t been with lack of adjusting, it hadn’t been a pressure suddenly unloaded upon you all at once – you’d done this, brick by brick, all with your own two hands. 

Keeping up with friends, keeping up with work, keeping up with expectations. Always trying to run ahead of the curve, always trying to be better. You should be fine. You shouldn’t even notice. You shouldn’t be sobbing on your bathroom floor, clutching the edge of your porcelain tub, every single breath a labor of survival. 

It feels like every bone in your body is splintering. It feels like the world has cracked open your ribs, one by one, just for show. You don’t feel poetic like the movies, you don’t feel like a valuable lesson learned in the books. You feel as though you’ve become nothing more than some crude display in a contemporary art gallery, and you were the one to hang yourself on the wall. 

Needles prickle across your skin with another heaving sob, as if you can feel the push pins you’ve used to spread yourself out for consumption. 

We still on for tonight? 

The text from Eddie glares at you from your phone discarded on the floor mere inches away. You’re lucky the screen hadn’t broken when you’d thrown it down on the ground on your way to the toilet, dry heaving through all your tears. 

He wasn’t a part of the issue. If anything, he was part of the solution. 

A shining clean slate, pristine whites and a scratch-free surface for you to press your cheek to when it all got a bit much. An abyss of freedom and openness for when the world was all a bit smothering. An anchor to cling to, a rope to tie around your wrists to keep from floating too far. The willow tree in a graveyard to rest your back against, the caress of a warm sun even if only momentarily as you stared out across headstones of all the pieces of you that you can never get back. Every version of you that has long since buried, a few even with newly churned dirt resting upon them. Something soft, something sacred, to rest your hands upon. 

Why does he still let you rest your bloodied and dirtied palms on his shoulders? Did he ever agree to that to begin with? 

You can’t remember. Or maybe your brain is simply refusing to recall. 

I hate to cancel, but I’m sick. I don’t think I can come out tonight :-( 

What? Is everything okay? Are you okay? Do I need to bring you anything? 

Please don’t.

The please is what gives you away. You should have forgone it, should have offered him a lighthearted response instead. 

But there is a pit in the bottom of your stomach, and seeing all the question marks across his text only made it more terminal. Only gave it more reason to swallow you whole. Only gave it more reason to grow and to tangle up and to restrict each stuttering breath of yours that you can’t seem to steady. 

Another buzz comes from your phone, but you don’t look to read it. You resort to resting your forehead against the lip of your toilet, all attempts at a deep breath futile as you finally taste the salt across your lips. 

Were you too much? Were you not enough? Was it possible to be an odd juxtaposition of both? 

A harrowing thought crosses your mind, and you know if Eddie could read minds across the intricate webbing that connects cell phones, he’d grab you by your shoulders. Maybe shake you until you see sense, or maybe cling to you until the thought has faded into nothingness. As if he could squeeze you hard enough to press together all the splinters that are left of your bones, forming a new body – a better body. One that can handle the pressure. One that isn’t imploding upon itself. A more durable mind, a more capable suit of skin to occupy. 

Does it even matter anymore? Would it even matter if I simply vanished? 

Would it be so bad to let the pit finally consume you? To just give in, to let it erase you from existence. To finally wave your white flag and let the awfulness inside of you finally win the battle, erasing you from existence and leaving behind an empty space in the world that could be filled with someone better.

Someone who could be a better friend. Someone who could be a harder worker. Someone who wasn’t choked up on their bathroom floor, beginning to contemplate if the painful gasps were even worth it. 

Were you worth it? Were you worth the air in your lungs? Or could it better serve someone who could handle all the pressure? 

And it wasn’t even that much pressure to begin with, if you pick it apart thread by thread. It was the natural weight of the human experience, and you were still crumbling. 

There was a full bottle of ibuprofen in the cabinet. There was a busy street not far from your home. There was a bathtub that could easily be filled with water – you’d never been good at holding your breath, unless someone counted the last few months, in which that seemed to be all you were good at. 

There was even a bridge, 5.27 miles away from your house exactly. You could already envision the patch of grass you could park your car at, feel the drop in temperature as you stood and overlooked the tame waves of a man-made lake.

Maybe your feet didn’t even have to leave the pavement. Maybe it would be enough to just stand in the silence and see the jump with your own two eyes. 

You felt like nothing more than a ghost of yourself, yes, but maybe. Maybe, just maybe, there would still be a broken shard within you that could stir awake at it all. Maybe if you got up off the bathroom floor and set yourself into motion, it would open its eyes just in time to scream no. 

Ghosts don’t just appear. They were a vibrant soul once – they were somebody once. 

But it’s hard to imagine that you ever were. When it gets like this, it’s hard to push through all the tumultuous thoughts and loathly emotions to remember that. A version of you vibrant, a version of you that might have been worthy, if only for a moment. 

A version of you that wasn’t insulting to compare to others. That was capable of progress, of earning your blip of existence. 

You don’t want the bottle of ibuprofen. You don’t want the busy street. You don’t want the overflowing tub. You don’t even want the calm of the bridge. You just want it to stop. 

There’s a knock on your front door that echoes through the entire apartment. You dread that you already know who it is, but you can’t get up to answer. 

You can’t move from this very spot. You’re terrified of what will happen when you do. 

Will your bones collapse into ash upon the floor? Will you make one wrong move, and in a fit of pressure, make a terribly permanent decision for what feels like a terribly permanent feeling? 

Maybe you were born with the pit in your stomach. Maybe you were born with that black hole inside of you. Cursed to always be yearning, always be a juxtaposition, always be a ghost of what could have become. 

You think you hear the click of your front door opening. You think you hear heavy footsteps across the hardwood floors. You think, you think, you think. That’s the issue. 

The tears are still coming and going in erratic tides. The salt is drying out your lips, your cheeks, the corners of your eyes. You’d thought you’d been incapable of any more emotions like this, but your tear ducts have managed to prove you wrong. 

Does it even matter anymore?

You’d left the bathroom door wide open. 

Were you worth it?

You’d been home alone – past tense.

A more durable mind, a more capable suit of skin to occupy.

A soft gasp of your name has you microscopically lifting your head from the toilet seat. You know what the scene looks like; it looks like nothing more than the excuse you’d used. You look as though you’re ill, like you’ve been spilling your guts across the bathroom floor all night. 

If you had been, would it all feel a little less heavy? 

“Hey, Eds.” 

You’re tired. You’re exhausted. Your voice is nothing more than a drag of a whisper as you look up at your anchor standing in the doorway, his face painted with concern. 

Maybe you were an anchor – maybe being an anchor wasn’t a good thing. After all, what use does an anchor have beyond weighing down the ship? 

“Jesus,” he mutters as he rushes to your side, falling to his knees carelessly as his hand flies out to brush back tendrils of your hair, “You look like shit.”

You felt like shit. 

Selfishly, you lean into his touch, desperate for comfort. Desperate for those caring palms to soothe the ache you’d carried since birth. Desperate to hear him tell you that you’re wrong – hands to promise you that you’re worthy, fingers to wrap around your bones rather than these burning ropes. You’re bloodied and raw, fully on display, and you just want to be okay. 

You don’t want the bridge. You want Eddie. You want him to magically make it okay, and that’s unfair. 

You’re not his weight to carry, not his burden to shoulder. 

After far too long of a silence, one in which he sits patiently in with you, all you can really reply is a broken, “Yeah.” 

Immediately, he knows something is wrong. Because of course he does. 

Because he’s a good friend. He’s a good person. He has the right words more often than not, and his hands were always formed to heal rather than injure. Create rather than destroy. Those warm palms are made to hold the space he’s earned in the grand scheme of the Universe, and it almost makes you nauseous as the jealousy spreads. 

He’s good. 

And you’re simply rotten.

You used to lie to yourself and say it was simply one rotted bit amongst plenty of good, but tonight, it all seemingly comes to clarity. You can’t dig out the bad, cleanse yourself of the rot, because it’s all decay. 

You don’t have to let the pit consume you – it already has. You were born with it, and it had swallowed you whole from the first cry that had ever left your lips. 

He makes himself a bit more comfortable, and you almost feel bad for reducing him to nothing more than the bathroom floor, “You wanna talk about what’s really wrong?” 

“I’m sick.” 

“This isn’t just some stomach bug.”

Your throat begins to tighten again, and suddenly, his gentle touch across the crown of your head burns. Your eyes water ferociously, and your chest caves into itself.

You can’t make a better body or a more sound mind out of the mess you’ve become. You can’t pull gold from tarnished rubble. 

Confessing to him will only be handing over something heavy, something terrible, that he shouldn’t have to struggle with as well. But not offering him a sliver of the truth almost feels more dishonoring. 

“Do you ever feel like a waste of space?” you croak, leaning back, finally accepting that the small space of the toilet that had been cooling your face has gone warm. Another thing you’ve ruined, in hindsight, “Like, this world is filled with great people, and I just… I just, I’m taking up the space- I’m wasting the space-” 

You can’t get out the proper words. You don’t know how.

How do you say you want to cease to exist when you’re not really sure if that’s the truth? You’re miserable, and you’re selfish, and you’re not entirely sure your feet would have ever left the pavement if you had driven yourself to the bridge. You’d be too scared to do it.  

Too scared to miss the day that science announces it’s found a cure to all your rot, a miracle drug to erase the pit, a way to reverse all the damage you’ve been comprised of your whole life. 

His brows furrow and his hand stops all the calming movements, “What? Are you- are you saying you feel like a waste of space?”

It feels silly to admit it to other people. To try and describe how it all feels. Like a child trying to convince their parents the Boogeyman is real, you have to make him see that you’re right. You have evidence, you have proof, and it’s not just a feeling. 

“I don’t feel like I’m a waste of space,” you finally correct, both yourself and him, “I know I’m a waste of space.” 

“Bullshit.”

“Eddie, don’t-”

“No,” he cuts you off. And somehow, in only a way that he’s capable of, it’s not offensive, “You’re not. I’m not going to sit here and listen to my favorite person claim they’re wasting space-”

“I am!” It’s your turn in the cycle of interruption. You pull away from him entirely, chest heaving with the weight presenting itself once more, tears starting to fall all over again. You can’t even distinguish where the old tears stop and the new ones begin, “I really am. All I seem to do lately is just exist. And that’s such a- such a- that’s such a waste. I can’t read any of the things I should enjoy these days, I can’t even write. All of the words feel like they just come out wrong. I’m letting everyone down left and right, I’m never living up to whatever pedestal you’ve put me on. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life. I don’t even know where I’ll be in a year from now – I can’t even see that far in the future.”

Heaves become sobs, and the crumbling has begun once more. A cycle of breaking, a cycle of demolition. Even leaving behind the rubble feels like a crime. A waste of space. 

“I don’t think I’m a good person,” you manage to spit out between all your visceral reactions, “Every year, I tell myself the same thing – I’ll be better, I’ll be kinder, I’ll be worth it. And every year, I fail.” 

Can he see it? All the fractures and splinters and pits and metaphors? 

Can he smell it? All the rot and the destruction and hopelessness?

Can he feel it? All the pressure? 

Through your sniffles, you press your back to the tub, knees to your chin as you wrap your arms around your legs, desperately trying to shrivel up. To take up less space. To waste less space.

“I used to think I could make up for it,” you whisper, “I could offer people things that made them forget I’m… so useless. But I don’t think I’m even capable of that anymore.”

If he’s about to respond, it’s drowned out by your cries. You press your eyes hard into your kneecaps, until you see stars, and you try to swallow down all the embarrassment. Try to stop all the hurt from spilling out, to stop all your guts from painting the bathroom walls. 

He could simply sit there, let you wallow in your misery alone. Sit and stare as the artwork finally serves its purpose to the visitors of the gallery. Maybe jot down some commentary on how with your bones all spread out like this, the point the artist was attempting to make becomes oh so clear. 

And yet, he doesn’t. 

You know it’s his arms that are wrapping around you, pulling you from the chill of the tub and into the warmth of his chest.  And you let yourself smother within the fabric of his shirt the same exact way in which you’ve convinced yourself you smother everyone around you, let yourself breathe in drugstore cologne and his last cigarette rather than think about all the thoughts that had been spiraling you into dismay over the last twenty four hours – over the last twenty four years. 

He’d probably been smoking while waiting on your call tonight. Probably riddled with anxiety, if the shake of his hands pressing into your back are anything to go off of. An anxiety and waiting game that wouldn’t have to exist if you didn’t exist.

The thought makes you cry harder. 

If a ghost dies, can it even still return back as itself? Can it still find it within itself to haunt empty hallways, and watch the ones it once loved find peace?

“You’re not useless,” it sounds as though Eddie might be crying as well, if not just a little choked up, “You’re not- I swear- You’re not useless, okay? Never have been, never will be.”

His murmured words are nice, but they fuel an unimaginable guilt. It was supposed to be a nice night. A night of movie marathons and midnight coffee, of trying to remind yourself why you still stick around. A moment of incomparable joy and sweet reprieve as your stomach ached from laughter, your cheeks swelling with an infallible grin that Eddie always seems to pull out of you.

There’s no smiling, no giggling, right now. Just his favorite band shirt from the show you two had attended a few years before, soaking with a fast-growing stain from all your tears. 

When you don’t answer him, only manage to wrap your selfish arms around his waist, he continues, “How long have you felt this way, sweetheart?”

And if you hadn’t already been shattered previously, that would have finally broken you. 

You can’t pinpoint when it started. You can’t clear the smoke of memories and find an exact moment that you can point to and say, there. That’s where the hurt starts — that’s where the rot starts. 

“I don’t know.”

In your mind, it’s a wail. Loud and ferocious, efforts of all it has taken to withstand the pressure of your undoing screamed out loud. 

But on this quiet bathroom floor, it can’t even be considered a whisper. Nothing more than the spoken words lingering from a ghost who can’t give up the haunt. An echo of a memory, an echo of the piece in you that can’t let go, not yet.

Not of existing, and not of him. Your fists hold him so firmly against you, you’re scared that you’re going to bruise him. Hurt him just from the sheer effort of trying to show that you love him. 

The only way you know how to love – a violent dog who will always bite the kindest hands. Leaving behind bloodied knuckles even if you hadn’t so much as snipped this time. 

You take a sharp breath, aware of the levity of the words you’re about to say, “I don’t want to exist anymore, but I wouldn’t even make it off the bridge if I tried.”

It’s not about the bridge anymore. In all likelihood, it wouldn’t be the bridge you turn to. There’s a grand metaphor somewhere in the admittance, but your mind is just too tired to try and paint a prettier picture of it for him. 

Because exist is just a placeholder. And there’s a bigger, scarier word that should stand in its place. 

He starts to break the hold, and you nearly sob out again just at that. Losing the warmth of his chest and arms strike pain somewhere deep within you, just north of the pit that’s devoured all that’s left of you. 

“Bridge?” Phrased as a clarifying question, but when you see his face, it’s clear he knows. There are no good words left to say about it, “Sweetheart, no.”

There are worse reactions to be had. More scenarios that end in slamming doors or deafening silent treatments. Realizations that you’re right and it’s not worth it – defense mechanisms that involve them leaving first. 

“I couldn’t do it, even if I want-” 

Even if I wanted to. The words you can’t speak, dying on your tongue. 

Do you want to? Where does the pain begin? And where could it end?

“You really don’t see it, do you?” he laughs humorlessly, his hands still gripping your biceps in a death hold, “You… you just…” 

He doesn’t know what to say, and you don’t blame him. You knew this was heavy; you knew this isn’t the type of bomb to drop on someone you love. 

But if you didn’t, where would the bomb have gone? You’re not equipped to detonate it. You’re not equipped to survive the explosion. You wouldn’t want to survive that explosion. 

“I’m sorry,” your words pour out, beginning to shake beneath his palms, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Dry, cracked lips feel as though they nearly split from the apologies. More violence, more devastation, more of what you always knew you were. You can see it in his eyes – you’re dragging him down with you, right down to the bottom of the ocean. You’re being an anchor. 

He’s all stutters and harsh breaths, panic filling the space with your own as his eyes search yours, “Don’t apologize. You don’t have to apologize. Just-”

He cuts off and is pulling you close again. Slamming your bones into his, wrapping up around you as if he might be able to keep you safe from the world. From your own mind. 

“I don’t need apologies,” another squeeze of your closer to him, another attempt to pull you away from the dangers that lie within, “I don’t- I just… Can I help? How do I make it better? Just say the word. I’ll do it.” 

It’s not your job. That’s not your job. 

You don’t realize you’ve said the words out loud until he’s squeezing you so tightly that you now can’t breathe. Until all you are is him. All his old t-shirts he’s lent to you that hang in your closet, all the nights spent with tangled legs as you sit across from each other on your couch, all the phone calls in which he refused to be the first one to hang up. Cologne that is too cheap to be able to cling so ferociously as it does to all your surroundings, chain-smoked cigarettes you always chastise him for because they’re gonna kill you one day, the smoke of his latest blunt resting in an ashtray as his head finds home in your lap. 

All the inside jokes. All the hugs. All the simple texts, if for nothing more than to just check in on each other. The broken reminders of having someone out there that cares. That loves you. 

How can such rotten hands pull such love from others? How have you yet to infect him? 

“I know it’s not my job,” he finally says, and you know for a fact he’s crying along with you before the first of his tears have wet the crown of your head, “It’s never been a job. You’re not a job. Okay? Get that through your head. There’s- Fuck, there’s plenty of things I wanna drill in that pretty little head of yours right now, but I know I can’t, so just get that.”

He’s trying. A little trill of his tongue that falls a bit flat when he refers to your pretty little head, a brief squeeze of your shoulders as he tries to relax a little. He wants to make you feel better. He wants to make it better. 

But he’s still holding you like he’s terrified. You did that – you instilled that fear. 

“I’m a mess,” you whisper in bitter realization, ash on your tongue as you process what you’ve done. You’ve already apologized, but you’re seconds away from doing so again, “I’m- I’m a mess, and I’m dragging you into it, and I’m sor-”

“Stop being sorry.” Definitive words, no room for argument. The smallest of shifts as things click into place. He isn’t budging – he isn’t letting go, “Do you remember when I first met you?” 

You can’t tell if the question is meant to have a point, or if it’s meant to be a distraction. You let it grow into the latter.

“Yeah,” you breathe out against him, melting into his chest, trying to focus on his voice rather than the ones in your head, “But tell me about it anyway?” 

“Two years ago. Technically, two years and seven months,” he starts in the same voice he used to take on during Hellfire sessions, before the members had scattered from coast to coast and his D&D club only became a rarity when the stars aligned. There’s still a crack to his voice from his tears, but that doesn’t stop him, “We were in some cursed fucking diner we don’t even go to anymore, in the dead of the night, and all the servers knew your name and order,” he paints the picture with a humor that should feel out of place, but it settles some of your breathing. Omitting all the vivid details, opting for triggering the memory with words you’d just get. You can feel the stick of the plastic beneath your thighs, you can smell the grease of the kitchen. You can see the cloudy night out of the oversized windows. He’s a natural born storyteller in the most subtle of ways, always knowing his audience, “You were sitting all alone in that booth, and all of Hellfire had just left. Gareth had just told us how he was going to college in California – did you know that?” 

“I didn’t.” 

“Well, he did,” his chin presses against the top of your head, a huff of a laugh escaping him, “Dropped the bomb it was our last summer as a club probably. We were happy for him, though. Real fucking happy. Got milkshakes to celebrate and made plans to get drunk off our asses the next night to keep the party going. It was dumb, and I’m getting off track, but…” 

Baited breath, you’re waiting for him to continue. No thoughts of the bridge. No thoughts of your failures. Living in a small memory with him on the floor of your bathroom. 

“Anyways, you were sitting there all alone, with a plate of fries and ranch.” 

“Oh, God,” your nose scrunches and you try to pull away, suddenly remembering how embarrassing this memory ends for you. It suddenly didn’t seem like the best way for him to make you feel better by any means, “No, I remember how this story ends, and-”

“I’m not done,” he locks his arms around you, and you can feel the whisper of a smile as it brushes against your temple, “Obviously you know where I’m going with this, but I’m not done, sweetheart. Because all the other guys had just left, and I’m sitting there, realizing the only other customer was some random person over across the diner, scribbling away in some notebook. Thought you looked cute when you were all focused like that, y’know? But then you were so focused that it became distracted, and you spilled that ranch all over yours-” 

“Please, stop.”

You’re laughing through the words, weakly, the air of desperation in the word please being far different from earlier in the night. No bridges, no failures. 

“I was probably being a weirdo, trying to run over and help you or whatever the fuck I was trying to do. I probably made it worse, right?” 

You’re there, remembering a version of Eddie that was a stranger, taking napkins to the knees of your jeans and smearing the ranch rather than really helping you clean it up. “Yeah, just a little bit.” 

“Sorry for that, by the way,” he airily apologizes before continuing, “But I just remember thinking about how focused you were on that notebook. And how you laughed with the waiter. And how you were just… lost in your own little world. And how you were so cute. You were so nice. The type of person I wanted in my life. Took one look at you with that ranch all over your lap and thought, huh. I want to get to know that person.” 

“Nice? I was not nice, I was-” you cut off, heart all but stopping as you recognize the point of it all. It wasn’t meant to just be a distraction. He was making a point. “I was a… a mess that day.” 

“Exactly.”

He pulls away again, and this time, it’s a little easier. The world has put a pause on its ending and you can handle the weight of his arms lightening for a few seconds, just so he can get a good look at your face. 

“You were a mess the day that I met you, and I still wanted you in my life,” he says each word deliberately, not breaking eye contact. Fear has broken through to determination. “And even if you’re still a mess today, I still want you. Nothing changes. You get that?” 

No bridges.

No failures.

The weight of it all had been heavy. The type of sorrow you thought was never meant to be carried by more than your own two hands. But he had taken it in his palms, lifted it from you entirely, even if it would only be temporary. One day you’d have to endure the pain again, get to the root of the problem. Figure out if all your ailments had been something wired into you since birth, or things you’d picked up along your way. But for now, you could breathe again. You could hear the drumming of your heart in your ears, and you could hear every single one of both yours and Eddie’s breaths in the silence, and that was enough. 

“I don’t want to die,” you finally quietly admit. Saying one of the bigger, scarier words. The thing you’d been too afraid to let slip off your tongue originally. “I just- sometimes it all gets a bit loud, you know? And I know you said don’t apologize, but I am sorry that I scared you. And I’m sorry that you have to take the bad to also get that little bit of the good with me.” 

His hand leaves one of your arms for the first time since he’d first wrapped you up, and it finds its way to cradle the side of your head. Holding you as if you’re porcelain still. You know that won’t go away, not tonight. “I’d rather have your bad days than have nothing at all,” he chokes up once more, and you can see tears threatening to welt in his eyes, “You get that, too. Alright? You’re worth it. Bad, good, funny, sad – give it to me. I’m asking for it. Just don’t… don’t leave me with the nothing.”

You’re worth it. 

He’s found a worth in you attached to nothing at all. He’s sitting here with you, on the bathroom floor, and his perception of you has nothing to do with what you can only offer. 

It just has to do with you. He sees you, and he’s decided you’re worth it. Even now.

He smiles softly, as if he can see the realization dawning upon you, “You wanna get up off the floor now? We can go sit on your couch or bed or something.” 

You’re quick to shake your head. Your knees are partially digging into his thighs, your breaths are matching his. 

“Okay,” his face falls slightly, but not entirely. Not entirely, “That’s okay. Do you want me…. Do you want me to go?” 

Another shake of your head. But this time, you need to offer more than just the motion of your head, especially when you can feel tears returning as your throat tightens up, “No. No, just- Stay with me? Please?” 

Your hands reach out without you even processing it, gripping his wrists, desperate and clinging and still verging on the edge of violent. The thought of being alone is terrifying, but the thought of having to watch him walk out of this room is even more petrifying. 

He doesn’t even flinch as you sink your claws in. His smile only returns, and he shuffles to pull you both to hold your backs up against the wall across from the toilet, “Of course. I’ll stay, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere – wouldn’t even dream of it.” 

His words shake just a little less than they had when he’d first entered the room. 

He can’t fix it all magically. That isn’t his job, isn’t his role, isn’t his choice. But he can sit here with you, on the floor of the bathroom, endlessly patient and tragically caring as he urges you to lay down. He stretches his legs out and pats his lap once before hovering his hands over your shoulder, guiding you until your temple is flush with his thigh. 

He can choose to not hesitate as his fingers immediately push through the baby hairs by your temple, a soft hum in the back of his throat that sounds exactly as you feel.

Hesitantly content. Just for now. It’s enough. 

The storm is receding. As hours pass by, and noises of uncertainty become more confident hums of a song you faintly recognize, it all settles. He stays. You stay. The storm passes for the time being, and the hole tempers itself for just the night. 

It’s enough for now. You’ll worry more tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. You’ll talk more about why you feel this way, and he’ll offer better solutions. The weight won’t simply be passed into his waiting hands and forgotten – one day, you’ll find a way to lighten it through dissipation rather than through catastrophe. 

One day, the seas will calm, and you’ll find yourself the ship rather than the anchor. 

And the captain can be the boy who sits on the floor with you through the sadness, content to wait out the storms with you until you find the worth he sees in you.

[accio-victuuri]

HAPPY 27th BIRTHDAY WANG YIBO 👑 !!!!

What a year this was for our Bobo, before crossing into 27 we saw him go through so many things and i’m proud to see him rise above it all with grace. We met Chen Shuo, Yang Zhen and Wei Ruolai. Each characters showing his strength as an actor and how versatile he is. Allowed fans to see him and interact with the Yibo they only see on screen. With the films, he has established himself as a stable actor who can pull in box office numbers and still deliver quality. Wei Ruolai, truly introduced him to a new set of audience and fans and proved that he is someone that the industry should watch out for in terms of talent. No matter the drama that came after, what i’m thankful for is that no one can take away how much this role showcased what he is capable of. if there is anything we know of WYB, absolutely no one can question his acting skills anymore. We saw him dance for the Asian Games, combining both modern and ancient — later on, we found out that WYB himself pulled in resources to make the promotions work.

He went to different parts of the world to promote his partnerships with Chanel, Lacoste and Loewe ; establishing himself as an international influence. He attended various events towards the end of the year and wowed us with his presence — picking up awards, the most important one being nominated for a Golden Rooster Award. He gave is 2 amazing songs : Bystander & Everything is lovely, which showed his versatility as an artist. Amazing magazine covers. Valuable partnerships with brands. Excellent stage performances — special mention to his SDC hiphop stage.

A definite highlight would have to be him being an Olympic Torchbearer, bringing pride to his fans and his country. Finishing the filming of Mermaid/Intercross, Doing the Pangolin Documentary, Starring in a discovery channel documentary, racing cars, learning to play tennis and whatever else that he does that we don’t know. There is really no stopping him. Despite the noises bringing him down, in true wang yibo style, he will always shut them all up once his projects are out.

He deserves every bit of recognition he is getting and i can only hope that in the next couple of years — more people will see the side of Wang Yibo that we all love. I’m so grateful to be celebrating yet another year of life with WYB, and i shall remain for as long as I can. it’s tripping me up so much how fast time has gone by that he is already 27. But one thing is for sure, he is still the same WYB. He is still that sweet, earnest and hardworking yibo we have come to know.

Yibo, my only wish is that you can continue to do the things you love and try whatever it is that takes your interest — Also that you remain healthy & energetic. This world is so much better with you in it. ✨✨✨

[the-patrex]

Assuming both speculations that the new spin off will be abt UNIT and that who picked up Tooth!Master is Kate, imagine a world where Kate keeps the Master on a leash to be the new science advisor