#the danger of limerence

[patroclusplaylist]

oh, no and other heartbreaks // daydreaming mess

[lesbian-munkustrap]

I’ll think I’m unique because I’ll watch a show and immediately start calling the most pathetic, horrible, gross little loser man with any hint of queerness my little meow meow princess and then I get on tumblr and find out once again that I have never had an original thought once in my life we are truly all the same

Every single time I search a new character in the tags it’s a bunch of other lesbian pfps saying “yes that sad, pathetic loser man IS our little meow meow, you’re so right” like what is it, why are they catnip to me and apparently a bunch of other people just like me?? I don’t get it

[spookyeagling]

I think the fear of men is overblown and dehumanising but I will admit to keeping a little scorecard in my head for how much trouble I think any given man may cause me in the future that I update after every interaction

[valleydolli]

ʚɞ Gojo Satoru Fic Recommendations ʚɞ

J’adore (O)

Scars don’t fade (C)

August (C)

Sincerely Not (C)

Sincerely Yours (O)

Everyone’s Doll (C)

Missed Connection (C)

Confessions (O)

Confidential (O)

Violet Lights (C)

Starboy (C)

The Twist of a Knife (O)

A Dangerous Game (C)

Fate’s Gamble (O)

All I Need (C)

Baby Steps (C)

Finite (C)

Sensual Epiphany (C)

Two Lines (C)

Changes (O)

Infidelity (C)

The Fuck List (C)

In Other Words, I Love You (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat) (C)

Permanent Mark (C)

Sundered (C)

Infidelity (C)

Kick Off (O)

The Unfaithful (C)

I Still Want You (O)

Concern and Control (C)

Symptoms and Causes (O)

One Moment Was All It Took (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat) (O)

Fuck The List (O)

My Love Note (O)

As You Like It (C)

People Would Assume (C) (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat)

Break Free (O)

Limerence (O)

In Memory of You (TBD)

Motherhood and Matrimony (O)

A Fairytale Wedding (O)

Velvet Lies (O)

May You Never Forget Me (O)

Open Wounds (O)

Gods and Monsters (O)

Just Friends (O)

Untameable Waves (please come back)

[samuelroukin]

(sorry ik you gave him an oral fixation but I do think it would be funny. "no handjob I might give massive chafing or rip ur dick off")

also explains why i rarely let him get a handy from anyone, they're just giving him the same courtesy 😌

[squidsawayfromhome]

the only way i know how to joke with someone i have a crush on is cheesey flirting or being mean to only them and thats only ended horribly for me so ive just been quiet and smile and nod you know really holding back holding my tongue but oh god what if i slip up one day i am so screwed i like her so much

[captivating-flavors]

enough | sylus

pairing: sylus x non mc reader

prompt: -

summary: you wanted your love to be enough.

words: 1,399

warning(s): angst, mentions of death

a/n: inspired by rereading the limerence/carpe noctem series by @comatosebunny09 but i havent written anything in like 4-5 years so sorry if its bad :3

masterlist

“Boss ran out hours ago and has been awol since.”

You knew exactly where he was the moment Luke called you almost an hour ago. You immediately grabbed your keys and sped over. The trip usually took you forty-five minutes but it was taking you longer today, since it was raining and the roads were slippery.

This was the second time this week and this was what he usually does around this time of the year anyway. Her birthday was coming up and this is what he always does within the weeks leading up to her birthday and after. It’s been two years since her death and you knew that he still blames himself for it.

“It’s my fault she’s gone. I couldn’t save her.”

You’d heard that line countless of times and every time you did the pain cuts through you just the same, but as time went on it became a different kind pain. At first, it was the pain of losing one of your close friends. But as your relationship with him progressed, it became the pain of knowing that you could never even come close to her in his eyes.

You first met Sylus when you were working as a bartender in one of the largest bars in the N109 Zone. You were being harassed and he was about to step in when he thought it was going to get out of hand, but you practically broke the guy’s arm in two places. He saw potential in you as a fighter and wanted to take you under his wing, as somewhat of a partner, someone who could act as a backup and accompany him to the dangerous meetings he frequents. So, he tried to recruit you.

“Sorry, but I’m perfectly content with my current job.” And that was the truth, it was the most well-paying job you had and the benefits were quite generous.

“I’m not asking you to quit your day job, sweetie. I’m simply offering you a… freelance gig, if you will. And don’t worry, I’ll train you and reward you handsomely for your assistance.”

That was how you first got entangled with him, five years ago. You thought that there was no harm in having a side gig, so you agreed to have him train you in his private gym three times a week until he deemed you ready for the missions, as he would often call them.

Somewhere along the way, between the missions, the training sessions and the banters, you found yourself slowly falling for him. The smiles, the flirting, the gifts and the heartwarming words he’d say to you every time you made an improvement during training or when you managed to finish the mission well, the attentiveness, who could ever not fall for that. You never said a word, of course, too scared to ruin the seemingly perfect partner dynamic you’ve got going on.

Two years into being his mission partner, you found yourself slowly getting replaced by her. She was better than you as a mission partner, even you had to admit that. She’s had her hunter training and her evol, there was nothing you could do to ever match up to that.

You’d still hung around the base a lot, and he’d still have you help with menial things here and there, but every time there was a mission he would always take her instead. Every time you went to the base, she was always there. Due to that, you got to know her. She was so bright, bubbly and smart that you instantly felt drawn to her. The two of you became even closer upon knowing that both of your families had been lost to unsolved explosive accidents.

But being around the base a lot also made you aware of other things, like the way he would stare at her with those eyes every time she talks animatedly about something that happened during work. The way he would gently smile and kiss her head every time she falls asleep on the couch, before carrying her to his bedroom.

Even though you knew him first, it hurt to see that she was the one able to evoke such gentle, tender, loving side out of him. But he seemed happier with her, and there was nothing you could do about it. You knew your place, so you backed out, created space, found other things to work on to keep yourself busy. You’d still come over and hung out with them and the twins, but just not as often.

A year into it, the two of them walked into an ambush. It was never supposed to be an easy one, but it wasn’t supposed to be hard either. The people of the N109 Zone were never above playing dirty and so they had a sniper five buildings away. The shot was meant for Sylus, but something went wrong on both parties’ calculations, and it ended up hitting her instead.

At first you only wanted to be there for him, comfort him. Do anything to make him feel better. You honestly never intended to get into bed with him, but you did. It hurt you to have him call you by her name as you did it but you’d do anything to help him. You stupidly thought that it could be a win-win solution, as you could make him feel better and also have him closer to you.

But deep down you knew. You knew you were only a placeholder for her. The both of you had similar hair, eye color and build. You knew the reason why he entangled himself with you was because you reminded him of her. Even though you knew, you still fell for it, digging the hole deeper for yourself. Like an idiot. You knew he couldn’t–wouldn’t–ever reciprocate your feelings, but you still genuinely cared for him. Hence, why you have been putting up with this for a year and a half.

You got out of the car and ran past the cemetery gates. You’ve traversed through these grounds countless of times, so the rain and darkness of the night was not an issue. You soon found him in the exact spot you knew he would be at. You stood in front of his sitting form, holding out the umbrella over him, looking down at him and it just breaks your heart knowing that he’s still in agony even after all these times and that there’s nothing you can do to help him ease his pain.

“Sylus.”

He had his back to the side of her tombstone, unmoving. He barely glanced at you.

“…”

“It’s raining. We should head back.”

“…”

“Come on, let’s get you in the car.” You said as you grabbed his arm, in an effort to pull him up and towards the car.

Surprisingly, today he silently complied, unlike when you also had to do this two days ago. The moment he was up and leaning over to you, you could clearly smell the alcohol on him.

‘No wonder he’s being compliant this time,’ You thought to yourself.

You walked the both of you towards the car and put him in the passenger’s seat before closing the door and moving over to the other side of the car, taking the driver’s seat. The both of you were drenched, so you grabbed the towels you’ve stashed on your backseat and handed one over to him with one hand, as you were drying your hair with the other.

“Here. You’ll catch a cold.” Seeing as he still wasn’t responding, you draped it over his head. He weakly raises his hand and starts to rub the towel over his wet head of hair.

“… I miss her.”

“I know. Me too, Sylus. Me too.”

You started the engine and drove straight to base. The drive went on without him saying anything else and the moment you guys arrived, you realized Sylus had fallen asleep, so you had Luke and Kieran help you get him to his room, where you changed him out of his wet clothes before tucking him in. You brushed a stray strand of hair away from his sleeping face and took a seat on the side of his bed, still caressing his soft head of hair.

“I love you, Sylus. I wish that was enough to help you.”

-

part 2 (sort of): away

[call-sign-shark]

Echo of Shadows || Masterlist

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!OCreader || Alina Starkov x Heartrender!OCreader || Malyen Oretsevx HeartRender!OCreader

Summary:

In Ravka's frosty heart, the legend of the White Death spreads. a woman with snow-white hair, frozen-fire eyes, and powers that rival those of Heartrenders under Jurda Parem. Once a slave in the Menagerie, the one who calls herself Heaven is now a myth, either leaving towns in ruins or former disease-ridden people crying with gratitude. A Sankta.

General Kirigan's interest soon turns dark and his desire obsessive. Never had he been so captivated and haunted by someone.  To him, she is more. More than power, more than an obsession. She is his other half — the soul he’s searched for through lifetimes of shadow.

But between his consuming love and Alina Starkov’s fragile promise of freedom, she must choose: Savior, monster… or destruction wrapped in a pretty bow?

One last thing: Heaven? She’s you.

TW: Explicit sexual content, slow burn, borderline consent, heavy pinning, toxic relationship [manipulation, obsession, extreme jealousy, controlling behavior], graphic sexual description, graphic depiction of murder and torture, blood!kink, size!kink, radioactive couple, codependency, reference to past SA and child SA, dark romance & mad romance trope, ambiguous relationship with Alina. This story is brutal, bloody and rated +18.

ACT I: A BURNING LIMERENCE

1. Keep Moving, Little Girl

2. Their Frozen Shackles

3. The Court of Shadows

4. The Fear Within

5. Beneath his Watchful Eyes 🔞

6. Until Nothing is Left

7. Dangerous

8. Blood and Honey

9. Gazed Into the Abyss, It Gazed Back Into Me 🔞

10. Raw

11. The Things I'd Do for You

12. Intoxicate Me Now

13. Burn Your Village 🔞

14. E.V.O.L.

15. Darkness Suits You Well

16. Light of My Life

17. My Night and Stars. 🔞

-> Prologue Act I: What’s the Night Without his Moon?

ACT II. RAPTURE OF THE DEEP

Queen of Spades

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Light

Like a Feeling of Déjà Vue

Blinding Light

I was Made for Loving You, Baby 🔞

It's in Our Veins

Your Darkness Flayed 🔞

After the Storm, the Sun

Safe in the Dark 🔞

Paint Me Black 🔞

Golden Cage for a Pretty Bird

Your Heart, My Chains

Good Ending? You Haven't Been Paying Attention

ACT III. THE CALL OF THE VOID

The Assasymphony

Never You

Barbwire Kiss🔞

It Has Always Been You 🔞

I'm Not Ruined. I'm Ruination.

Here Comes the Wolves

Your Love is an Open Wound 🔞

The Starless Saint of Broken Hearts

The Mask of the Red Death

Candy-Coated Suicide

Symphony of Our Ruins

Epilogue: Eternal Eclipse

ONE SHOTS

Much Ado About Jam Toasts- fun & fluff

A Dangerous White Tigress - action, Hurt/Comfort

Away From the Deep Shadow

Damaged

MODERN AU*

Mental Health Is Sexy Masterlist

*Amos is Aleksander's modern identity.

GAME OF THRONES AU

Damaged Masterlist

*Amos is Aleksander.

VISUALS

Light in the Dark

"Call me Aleksander" - trailer by the beloved @elizabethblood9

My Night and Stars

Heaven Lavey

VIDEO EDITS

Call Me Aleksander - by @elizabethblood9

E.V.O.L - by @peakyswritings

Lilith, You Siren - by @copinghex

Notes:

☾ I haven't read the 3 books yet so this work mainly based on the TV show even though I know it's fairly different from the original Grisha verse. If you're an adorable lore psycho, you might not want to read that! :(

☾ Taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art, @lightinbug, @kmc1989, @thepassionatereader @mystic-mara @m-riaa @kallista-diune @meadows5 @kasagia @watersquirtpewpewboomm @the-sweet-psycho @sarahsobsession @elizabethblood9 @ritzzzzz @sophialeiros @noortsshift @sassyvilliantrope @sherwoodforesttales @a-smidges-stuff

[inkytoru]

LUST AT FIRST BITE ── ᵎᵎ ✦ ꒰ sylus ꒱

PAIRING: vampire!sylus x f!reader WORD COUNT: 0.8k A/N: mdni, this work of fiction is 18+. first time writing for this fandom, vampires, and for sylus please be gentle with me 🙏🏼 written for @sugurouge, i hope i did your vision justice!! only content warnings really are just vampirism (biting) and some heavy petting. (edit: i forgor to tag @pixelcafe-network)

“Scared, baby?”

You gulp, throat dry, your blood pumping a bit quicker than usual in your veins.

Sylus’ lips curl up into a smirk as his razor-tipped fangs graze over your pulse point, and his trousers tighten at the way you quiver beneath his gentle yet dangerous touch.

He inhales through his nose; you smelled all like vanilla and everything a sweet girl is while he was leather and something not quite human anymore. Sylus still remembers the night you found out, the tremble in your smaller frame sending blood straight to his cock.

The memory makes him trace hearts into the flesh of your exposed thigh with the tip of his finger.

“No need to be scared. It’s just your boyfriend, Sylus,” he coos, “I’m all yours.”

(You were his obsession just as much as he was yours, and he liked that.)

He remembers how later that same night you, the little lamb that he grew to love, shocked him with how your eyes had hardened with an envy that he wanted to suck out of you. You were the only woman he loved and cherished—not the bags of blood shaped like other women that he’d drink from—he had reassured you.

He even tells you they were all curated, calculated choices by how much they resembled you.

But you want him to prove it; prove his undying love for you and only you by becoming his primary source of sustenance. Hence why you were now flush against the wall caged in by him, wrists now pinned above your head.

With those women, he had said that he’d always make it quick, so as to not trigger the side effect of his saliva. One you were now acquainted with by the way he was lapping at the column of your throat.

It then dawned on you that his saliva acted as an aphrodisiac agent.

You couldn’t help but moan softly at the sudden ebbing and throbbing in your clothed pussy the more he licks at your yielding flesh.

It makes your vampire boyfriend let out an amused chuckle, his breath hot and making you a tad ticklish. But his grip was firm and vice-like.

You weren’t going anywhere, and he tells you so right then and there.

His words do reach you, but a dreamy haze begins to enshroud your mind from the corners, fraying your judgment.

What he didn’t tell you, was that the aphrodisiac properties of his spit also warped the victim’s perception of whoever was feeding upon them— it would typically manifest as the person they held nearest and dearest to their heart, or alternatively, their limerence’s obsession.

Sylus appeared all the same to you, with not a single hair out of place nor a hint of unfamiliarity in those crimson eyes of his that you could swear can penetrate deep into your soul. It was like your soul knew him from somewhere else; it recognized him beyond mortal means.

(You would tell him this after, and he’d only smile at you with a knowing glimmer in his eye.)

“I wonder what is going through that pretty little head of yours right now, hm?” he muses, aforementioned eyes of the reddest pools of lust and smoke flickering upwards to meet your gaze.

Your next words come out as a whine.

“Sylus, j-just bite me already.”

His expression darkens, his smirk teetering onto predation.

“As you wish, darling.”

And with that, his sharpened canines breach past your stratum corneum, and deeper and deeper into your epidermis.

You gasp just as his knee rises up to slot itself perfectly against your cunt, the material of his slacks grinding into the sensitive nerves there. Additionally, his blunt nails dig into your wrists.

He could tell—feel—you were already soaking wet for him. What a whore, he thought, amused.

Then, he begins to siphon your blood in earnest. The act was done in such a ravenous yet composed manner.

Your own composure melts as you mewl out his name, your eyes beginning to roll into the back of your skull.

He groans into your skin, wanton and heady with desire for you and the most mellifluous blood he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting upon his tongue.

Why hasn’t he done this sooner?

His eyelids flutter shut, your ecstasy starting to seep into his own flesh, a mutual euphoria binding you two together; just like how he was pressing himself further into you with not only his teeth but his body.

(It was almost as if he was trying to devour you whole.)

Sylus’ cock was straining horrendously in his pants. He would’ve growled something fiercely guttural and carnal if his mouth wasn’t full of you right now.

You keen as your blood surrenders to him instantly; docile, just like the rest of you. All of you, at his mercy.

This intimacy and vulnerability was something he now craved more of. He had just been scared before—scared of how you’d react to his true nature.

But, you think to yourself: you wouldn’t have him any other way.

[sherewrytes]

Half crazy, Toji x reader

↳ Toji Fushiguro x f! black reader

summary. You were always told by your family to stay out of trouble, get your degree, get a good job, and live a good life. Simple rules to follow. You somehow caught the eye of probably the most problematic person in your university but why did it intrigue you to find out more about him.

Toji Zenin/Fushiguro saw you for the first time strolling past him and his friends in front of the university's library. Something about you drew him in. He never saw someone like you before, focused, poised and dedicated to their degree. Always in the library or hanging out with friends, not really partying much. He wondered when curiosity would get the better of him to approach you, but he knew the life he lived would be too problematic for someone as sweet as you.

genre: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, explicit smut, dark romance,

Mafia Au, street racer au, dark romance au

Character look book

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Chapter 1: Limerence at first sight.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees lining the university courtyard as you adjusted your headphones, the smooth beats of SZA blending into the sharp riffs of Paramore. Your playlist mirrored your mood—calm with an edge, always somewhere between soul and rebellion. With a backpack full of architecture textbooks and your sketchpad and iPad tucked under your arm, you walked toward the library, letting the rhythm guide your steps. You were just wrapping up your first year, and architecture school was no joke. Still, you thrived under the pressure.

But as always, trouble had a way of showing up when you least expected it.

Outside the library, lingering by the steps, was a group that you had noticed more than a few times. Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, and of course, Toji. They were infamous on campus, but not because of their academic standing. Sure, they were all enrolled, but their reputation as street racers and rumored connections to something darker made them the subject of hushed whispers in the halls.

Toji Zenin—though no one called him that. He went by Fushiguro, his mother’s maiden name, and most people had learned not to ask why. Tall, broad, and intimidatingly quiet, Toji’s presence demanded attention. Tattoos snaked up his forearms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his black fitted t-shirt, and the scar running along the left side of his lips only added to the danger in his look. His eyes—dark, sharp, and always calculating—were the kind that made you feel like he could see right through you.

You felt his gaze on you before you even looked up.

As you approached the steps, you noticed the subtle shift in his posture. He was leaned back against the wall, smoking casually, a cigarette dangling between his lips. His dark eyes flicked to you, scanning you from head to toe, but he didn’t say a word. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if in amusement, before he went back to his conversation with Sukuna. His friends—Sukuna with his wicked grin, Geto with his long hair pulled back, and Gojo, as cocky as ever—were all laughing about something, their voices low and careless.

You had heard the rumors about them. Everyone had. They said Toji and his crew weren’t just street racers—they were into some shady business, underground stuff that no one could quite prove but everyone loved to speculate about. Drugs? Guns? Something worse? It didn’t matter. People talked because they didn’t understand.

But you weren’t the type to buy into that. Sure, they were rebels, but they were street racers—thrill seekers. The tattoos, the late-night races, the attitude—it was just a part of their image. The campus made up half the stories, anyway. You doubted Toji was into anything more than his cars, racing, and the occasional brawl when someone crossed him.

Besides, if they were as bad as everyone said, they wouldn’t still be walking around campus, would they?

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, snapping you back to reality. It was a message from Shoko, your best friend and the only person who really understood your love for blending R&B with punk rock.

Shoko: “Where are you? Mei Mei’s being dramatic again, come save me.”

You smirked, typing a quick reply. “On my way.”

One last glance at Toji before you made your way inside. He was still watching you—casually, lazily, like he didn’t care if you caught him staring or not. But you weren’t the kind to give it much thought. You shot him a quick look, raising a brow as if to say, Really? before heading into the library.

Inside, Shoko was already draped across your usual table, her hoodie pulled low over her face, scrolling through her phone with an air of indifference. Shoko had that effortlessly chill vibe that matched your energy.

“You look like hell,” Shoko deadpanned, pushing her hood back as you dropped your stuff onto the table.

“Thanks,” you snorted. “Long day. What’s this drama with Mei Mei?”

Before Shoko could answer, the sharp click of heels against the library floor announced the arrival of Mei Mei herself—rich girl, socialite, and the queen of unnecessary drama. Despite her extra attitude, Mei Mei wasn’t bad company, and she had an eye for design that rivaled yours.

“You’ll never guess who’s throwing a party this weekend,” Mei Mei announced, flipping her sleek hair over her shoulder as she sat down. “Everyone’s going. Even your favorites.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not this again.”

Mei Mei smirked. “Oh, come on. I saw the way he was looking at you outside. Toji Fushiguro. He’s into you.”

“Or maybe he’s just into staring,” you shot back, pulling out your sketchpad. “Either way, I’m not interested.”

Shoko leaned back, folding her arms with a lazy grin. “Yeah, sure. But you didn’t see him outside. That was more than a stare. He was practically sizing you up.”

You shrugged it off. You knew they had a reputation, and maybe Toji wasn’t the kind of guy you got involved with, but something about the way he looked at you was different. It wasn’t the typical arrogant glance guys gave you. There was something deeper, more calculating behind his eyes, and it was hard to shake.

Still, you weren’t about to get distracted. Architecture school was your priority, and you weren’t about to fall for some tattooed bad boy with a reputation for street racing. Even if there was something undeniably magnetic about him.

Mei Mei, completely unbothered by your protests, continued. “Well, he’s racing again this weekend also. Everyone’s talking about it. He’s been working on his car nonstop, and rumor has it he’s got something big planned.”

“Isn’t he always working on his car?” you muttered, but your curiosity was piqued. You weren’t into racing, but you had a weakness for fast cars. Maybe you’d go check it out. Just to see what the fuss was about.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, your thoughts drifted back to the way Toji had looked at you. He didn’t seem like the type to be bothered by what people said about him. Maybe that’s what intrigued you

his absolute indifference to the rumors. He moved through life on his own terms, tattoos, scars, and all.

And even though you knew better, even though you told yourself you weren’t interested, there was a small part of you that wondered what it would be like to peel back the layers of Toji Fushiguro—the street racer, the rebel, the mystery.

Toji’s POV:

The late afternoon sun did little to warm the creeping cold that always seemed to settle in his bones. He leaned back against the stone wall near the library steps, cigarette lazily hanging from his lips, its smoke curling into the sky in languid, careless trails. The day had been uneventful—Sukuna talking shit as usual, Geto and Gojo cracking jokes, the usual banter. But today, his mind was elsewhere, distracted, until you appeared.

He noticed you long before you saw him. Always did. There was something about the way you moved, headphones on, shoulders squared against the world, that caught his attention more than he'd ever let on. Your steps had a rhythm, a flow that matched the music he imagined pulsing through your veins, always somewhere between chill and fire, like you could flip a switch and become someone entirely different at any moment.

He took a slow drag from his cigarette, eyes narrowing as they trailed over you. You didn’t even flinch when you spotted them—all the rumors, all the warnings about him and his crew didn’t seem to faze you. That’s what set you apart from the rest. You didn’t cower, didn’t whisper behind your hand like some scared little thing. No, you always met his gaze, challenging without a word.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he caught your eye. Just like that, you were in his head, and he hated it. Hated how your presence, with your books and your sketchpad and your headphones, could unnerve him. Sukuna said something to him, but it barely registered. His focus was locked on you.

“Yo, Toji. You even listenin’?” Sukuna’s voice cut through his thoughts, followed by Geto’s low chuckle.

Toji flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot. “I heard you.”

“Right.” Sukuna’s grin was sharp, knowing. “You’re lookin’ like you wanna eat her alive.”

Toji’s jaw tightened. “Mind your own.”

“Touchy, touchy,” Geto chimed in, eyes following Toji’s line of sight. “She’s not like the others, huh?”

Toji shot him a glare, but the truth of it gnawed at him. No, you weren’t like the others. You didn’t fall for his reputation or melt under the weight of his gaze. You didn’t belong in his world. Hell, you probably had no idea what went on behind the scenes—just whispers, rumors, shit that wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what his life really was.

Racing? That was just the tip of the iceberg. The adrenaline was addictive, sure, but that wasn’t all he was into. Not by a long shot. And you? You were too…clean. Too good to get involved with someone like him.

But it didn’t stop him from wanting to drag you into his world.

He cracked his neck, trying to shake off the frustration that tightened his chest. You didn’t belong in his thoughts, but there you were, taking up space anyway. He shouldn’t be thinking about how you’d look in his car, watching him race. Shouldn’t wonder how you’d feel against him, under him, around him. Fuck, the thought was enough to make him run a hand through his hair, frustration brewing under the surface.

“She got a boyfriend or something?” Gojo asked, grinning like he knew what was about to happen.

Toji’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing.

“Just kidding,” Gojo said, laughing. “You look like you’re about to bite someone’s head off.”

Toji didn’t say anything, just stared at the spot where you had disappeared. It didn’t matter if you were seeing someone. Hell, it didn’t matter what you thought of him. If he wanted you, he’d have you. Simple as that. And from the way you’d glanced at him, quick but telling, you weren’t entirely indifferent, no matter what you told yourself.

He knew your type. You were the kind who thought you could play it safe, keep your head down, focus on school. But he saw the way your eyes flickered with curiosity when you thought no one was looking. The way you lingered on the edge of trouble, intrigued by the things that scared you.

Toji’s phone buzzed in his pocket. His eyes finally left the library door as he checked the message.

Shui K.: Race this weekend. You in? Heard you’ve got a new setup. Big pot, Fushiguro. Don’t fuckin’ miss it.

He smirked, shoving the phone back in his pocket. This weekend was going to be something else, alright.

He had been working on his car for weeks, tweaking things, perfecting the engine. He was ready to make waves, to leave everyone in the dust. Maybe you’d be there, watching from the sidelines, pretending like you didn’t care.

But he’d know the truth.

And when the time came, you’d be more than curious.

You’d be his.

Saturday arrived before you knew it, bringing with it the familiar tension of anticipation. You and your friends had shown up early, staking your spot near the race line before the crowd thickened. The industrial district was already humming with energy—the low roar of distant engines, bass-heavy music pulsing through the air,

and the unmistakable scent of burning rubber. You were surrounded by groups of spectators, all buzzing with excitement, but your mind was elsewhere.

You hadn’t seen Toji yet, but you knew it was only a matter of time. The memory of his piercing gaze the last time you locked eyes was enough to set your heart racing. He had a way of pulling you in without even trying, and tonight felt no different.

Suddenly, the roar of engines cut through the crowd's chatter. Heads turned as a pack of cars approached, their engines snarling and tires squealing in an almost choreographed display of power and control. Even before they appeared,

you knew exactly who it was. You could feel the shift in the crowd’s energy, a mixture of awe and envy rolling over the spectators.

First came Sukuna’s blood-red Chevy Camaro. The car was unmistakable, with its custom paint job gleaming under the dim streetlights and red neon lights glowing beneath it, casting an eerie glow on the asphalt.

Sukuna, with that devil-may-care smirk, rolled in with one hand on the wheel, his other arm hanging lazily out the window as if the world revolved around him. He revved the engine, causing a collective murmur from the crowd.

Next, Geto arrived in his 1999 yellow and black Nissan Primera GT, green neon lights cutting through the night like a warning. He pulled off a flawless doughnut, causing the crowd to erupt into cheers and groans. Geto, always laid-back, shot a grin through the window, nodding to the crowd as if he knew they couldn’t help but watch.

Gojo’s baby-blue Mazda RX-8 followed, sleek and custom-built with neon lights to match.

The music blaring from his sound system thumped through the crowd, matching the energy of the moment. His grin was wide, playful, and arrogant as always, revving the engine in sync with the others.

Even though the car was smooth, there was a cockiness to the way Gojo maneuvered it, showing off without ever needing to say a word.

Finally, the deep, resonating growl of Toji’s custom black 1979 Dodge Charger filled the air. The car was a beast, its white neon lights glowing against the dark asphalt like something out of a movie. Toji didn’t need to show off with tricks or fancy moves

his presence alone commanded the crowd’s attention. He pulled up slowly, letting the Charger’s low growl speak for itself. With a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, his eyes surveyed the crowd before landing, inevitably, on you.

For a brief moment, your gazes locked, and that familiar jolt shot through you. Toji, as always, was silent. His stare was intense, full of a tension that had been building between you for weeks, if not months.

His friends must have noticed it too because the way they looked at him told you they were aware of exactly where his attention was.

Sukuna chuckled, taking a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling the smoke into the air. “Man, he’s been staring at her all night. If you’re gonna keep doing this, at least make a move,” he teased, his voice loud enough to carry across to you.

Geto leaned back against his car, lighting a joint, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Seriously, Toji. What’s the plan? You just gonna keep burning holes into her with your eyes or actually talk to her?”

Gojo, always one to stir the pot, rolled his eyes dramatically. “At this rate, I might make a move for you. She’s been standing there waiting for something—maybe not you, though.” He grinned mischievously, the teasing lilt in his voice making the others laugh.

Toji ignored them, his expression unreadable as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily around him. His eyes never left you, even though he didn’t take a single step in your direction.

You could feel the heat of his stare, the intensity of it, but he stayed where he was. That was Toji—always watching, never approaching. It was as frustrating as it was intoxicating.

On your side, Mei Mei, who had been watching the whole thing unfold, nudged you sharply. “Are you two just going to stare at each other all night? Seriously, Y/n, make a move or something.”

You felt your face flush. “What? No, I’m not—he’s the one who—” You sputtered, but Mei Mei just smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Right,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “And I guess you’re just staring at the floor, huh?”

Another one of your friends, Nobara, chimed in, laughing. “It’s like a bad teen romance or something. How long are you two going to keep doing this? Just go over there and talk to him, Y/n. You know he’s not gonna come to you first.”

Shoko just looked at you from the side of her eye and said "Please be for real."

You bit your lip, torn between the obvious tension and the stubborn refusal to make the first move. There was something maddeningly frustrating about Toji, but that was part of the pull. You both danced around each other, neither willing to close the distance, but neither able to walk away.

Across the lot, Sukuna and the others continued to heckle Toji, their laughter echoing in the space between you. “You know,” Sukuna called out, loud enough for both of your groups to hear, “this is getting a little sad. If neither of you is going to do something, maybe we should!”

Toji shot him a look, but he remained silent, jaw clenched. The tension between you two had reached the point where even the people around you were getting impatient, but still, neither of you moved. It wasn’t stubbornness—it was something deeper, a tension that felt like it would snap the moment one of you made the first move.

And yet, as frustrating as it was, there was something thrilling about the unspoken connection. The way Toji watched you with that quiet intensity, like he was waiting for the right moment to pounce. It kept you on edge, unsure of when the stalemate would end but knowing that when it did, it would be explosive.

For now, though, the night stretched on, with both your friends and his laughing at the spectacle you two were making. But underneath the teasing, the tension simmered, undeniable and unbreakable.

One thing was for sure: tonight, wouldn’t be the night the tension broke. But with every lingering glance, every unspoken word, you knew it was only a matter of time before one of you finally made a move. And when that happened, you had a feeling everything would change.

Next

[glendasguidance]

Celebrity readings can be fun (I watch Antphrodite all the time), but WHY are tarot readers doing readings on what a relationship with that celebrity would be like? EW.

It feeds limerence - an addictive escapist fantasy that harms the addict, and can be harmful and dangerous for the person being objectified!! And all for what? More followers? More money from paid readings?

I used to be limerent towards someone before and it fucking sucked. And let me tell you, pick-a-card tarot readings kept me stuck in it. All my personal readings showed me the truth, and I didn’t want to accept it. Now I’m 3 years free of my addiction to the fantasy. My life is so much better now, and I do feel guilty for the person I was so obsessed with. I never did anything harmful to them - I feel guilty I never got to know them for who they are. My fantasy was more real to me than reality. Thank you to Me for having an ounce of self awareness and for getting myself out of that hell.

If you’ve been stuck in cycles of obsession, I highly recommend Crappy Childhood Fairy on YouTube (linked). Her channel, resources, and community have helped me so, so much. I hope they help you too. Obsession stops you from living, and you don’t deserve to abandon yourself.

[brittle-doughie]

I’m bored, Costume set idea 

Y/N - Cake Hounds King, one beloved by all

Crowned Cupcake - Limerence Queen, true love taken to their connections

Dumpling - Faithful Bishop, the one to carry the stars will to heaven

Salsa - Crusader’s Knight, the one dealt a forced hand

Blood Orange - Loyal Rook, The benevolent God viewed as the malevolent Devil by all

Costume Set: Chess game of twisted fate

If it isn’t odious, and sense I’m really bored and found this interesting:

Y/N - king

Crowned Cupcake - Queen

Dumpling - Bishop

Salsa - Knight

Blood Orange - Rook (I can’t find anyone that would be good enough for this role)

The Dangerous Game, but it’s just Y/N Cookie and the others.

Chess Choco can be the pawns.

[4urvalidation]

A CASE OF LIMERENCE | Chapter One

| NEXT CHAPTER

There's no one waiting for her. 

With her phone in one hand and trolley full of suitcases in the other, Leni helplessly watches as a crowd of happy faces reunite with their loved ones, while she just… stands there. At first she thinks Rose might be running a little late and although this is rather uncharacteristic of her Godmother, Leni decides to give her some grace. The woman’s husband just died, be normal! But when fifteen minutes turns into two whole hours and her hoard of texts and calls are left unanswered, Leni has no other choice but to panic a little. 

It’s fine. 

You are fine. 

You know this place like the back of your hand. 

Her uber is chatty. He tosses her bags in the trunk like they are mere pieces of paper, but once he does a double check on her location Leni watches a million different emotions go through his face before finally settling on a rather unreadable one. She thinks he is about to ask questions regarding her connection with the Camerons, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns up the radio and focuses on the long road ahead. 

In the meantime, Leni tries calling Rose again, but is once again left with an unanswered call and what now seems to be a warning of a full voicemail. Her mood worsens; the prickling in the tips of her fingers sends jolts of anxiety in every inch of her body and - what if she’s overreacting? 

What if, Rose is simply standing in the shadows of the ever daunting Tannyhill with Sarah and all their friends by her side, patiently waiting for Leni to arrive so they can finally throw that much needed surprise party she’s always been secretly hoping for? 

There’s no point in panic calling Sarah now; not when Leni has perfectly convinced herself that all of these missed calls are just a silly little ruse; a cruel prank she is yet to be mad at and when the uber drops her off in front of a house shrouded in darkness, she becomes even more convinced in the delusion she has created for herself. 

Even in the dark Tannyhill looks as glorious as ever. She remembers coming here for the first time as a doe eyed ten year old and being so impressed by its bigness that when she saw the pyramids for the first time in the following year all she could muster was: “I’ve seen bigger.” All of her best and most favorite memories were made in the halls and rooms of this giant of a house, but when she looks at it now, all Leni can feel is insurmountable pain. 

There is no surprise party waiting for her inside. 

With all her might, she tries convincing herself again; tries to read into the dim light coming from the random room on the ground floor, but despite all her attempts, Leni simply cannot escape from the truth: grieving people don’t throw parties. 

Her heart pulses in the middle of her throat as she presses the doorbell and allows herself to wait again. She no longer knows what or who to expect, but much like the plethora of calls, this too is left unanswered. 

Leni sighs and pulls her phone out of her pocket. It’s a winless fight, but perhaps this one last dial might be the one Rose finally decides to pick up-

“You came back.” 

A rough, almost dehydrated voice captures her attention and almost instantly Leni swings her head around. Standing before her is a face she hasn’t seen in a while; the only face she dreaded seeing each time she stepped foot in Tannyhill. But the Rafe Cameron in front of her is nothing like the one she remembers loathing all those summers ago. 

This one is frigid, with a pin straight back and even straighter shoulders. Hair buzzed dangerously close to the scalp and a suit so well fitted, it actually makes him look somewhat attractive. 

“Hey.”

“Elena.” His voice sends a child down Leni’s spine and she can’t help but notice the way his entire face dropped when he realized it was her standing there. 

“Yeah, I uh-”

“Sarah’s not here.”

“I know, Rose-”

“She’s not here either.”

Leni blinks. “What? Where… Where is she then?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me that.” 

“Me? Why would I know where Rose is?” 

Her heart is beating so fast and hard against her chest, she can barely hear her own thoughts, little alone pay proper attention to just how close she and Rafe have been standing until now. She watches as he silently retreats in the darkness of Tannyhill’s main corridor; his silhouette becoming one with the shadows and even though she can no longer see them, the coldness of his blue eyes lingers on her skin like poison. 

“You comin’ or what?” He bellows, waking Leni from her trance and she’s about to go in when Rose’s warning from all those years ago starts echoing in the back of her head. Like police sirens they grow louder and louder; enhancing the prickling in her fingertips and tightening the knot in the pit of her stomach. 

“I’m pretty tired actually, so I think I’ll just-” 

“Fine. I’ll bring it to you.” 

A wave of relief washes over Leni just then. She knows it’s far too soon to let her guard down, but she’s so tired… With heavy steps she marches herself over to Tannyhill’s surprisingly small stoop and allows her body to crash against it. 

How can Rose do this her? 

How can she insist Leni come visit and then not be here? 

“Here.” For the millionth time, Rafe’s voice jolts her upward. “She left this for you.” 

Suddenly wide eyed, Leni carefully snatches the small piece of paper away from Rafe’s hands. Gently, she grazes her fingertips against the curves of her name; Rose’s familiar handwriting unexpectedly brings a dash of warmth and comfort that grows even bigger once she realizes the letter is still very much sealed shut. 

Her gaze meets Rafe’s again and she really doesn’t like just how tall and daunting he appears from the angle she’s looking at him from. And whilst he’s always been somewhat scary to her, this new and improved version of him is a far cry from the boy she once upon a time used to make fun of in the comfort of Sarah’s room. 

The Rafe from before didn’t loom over her like some benevolent spirit. He simply made fun of the gap in her teeth and threatened to cut her hair in her sleep if she ever dared to step foot in his room again. 

“You really don’t know where she is, don’t you?” She asks quietly. 

“No.” 

“I don’t understand… She said it was okay. She said I was more than welcome to come here and-”

“When exactly was this?” 

Their eyes meet again. 

“A couple of months ago.”

“And you and Rose haven’t spoken since?” 

“No! We did. We… text. She, she…” Her hands scour through the mess in her bag, desperate to show Rafe all the text messages she and Rose have been sending one another in the past week, but much like most things regarding Leni, he seems uninterested. “She was supposed to be here.” 

“Yeah well… she isn’t.” Rafe laughs bitterly. “Fucking bitch. She has my sister, you know that? Wheezie. She waited for me to finally be out of town so she can take my fucking sister away from me! MY FUCKING BABY SISTER!” He shouts and Leni practically jumps out of her skin. “Stupid fucking bottle blonde ass whore!” 

Rafe’s fist collides with Tannyhill’s facade and if she didn’t know it then, Leni sure as hell knows that now is the time to fucking go. Her shaky fingers make several attempts to call an uber, but she’s in so much distress, she can barely press any buttons. And since her day hasn’t been shitty enough, Leni’s hands suddenly decide to stop functioning altogether. Helplessly, she watches her phone graciously slide away from her hands and fall onto the dirty gravel next to her feet. 

“Fuck.” 

Cold, cold sweat trickles down in every visible area of her body - this can’t be fucking happening - as Rafe’s heavy footsteps draw closer and closer. With a lump in her throat Leni watches him scoop up her poor little phone, before handing it to her with the same blase attitude he handed over Rose’s letter.  

“Y’know, you shouldn’t be walking ‘round with a broken screen like this. You can get hurt or something.”  

“Right. Thanks.” Leni blinks at him. “I’m gonna go now.”

“‘Kay.” 

The sound of her beat up sneakers echoes across the entirety of Tannyhill and the grip on her suitcase is so strong, she can almost no longer feel the heat of Rafe’s fingers against her skin. Unfortunately the same can’t be said about his gaze. Those haunting blue eyes of his follow each and every single move of hers like a shadow. He should’ve been gone by now; retreated in the darkness of his hollow home and never think of her again and yet, there he is - watching her. 

When she turns to look at him again, he doesn’t flinch like others might. He just stands there -shamelessly- with his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants. 

“You want me to drive you?” He says in a tone so condescending, it almost feels like the old Rafe is back. 

“No. Thanks.” 

Rafe nods and remains unmoving until Leni is inside the uber and on her way to the address written on the letter Rose left her.

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⸰ .° ☆ ° ☆ °. ⸰ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

| NEXT CHAPTER

[wildechildwrites]

Limerence

Looney Tunes Part Three

Konig/Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: 18+, Masturbation, romcom antics, may make you kick your little feet.

No use of Y/N

Summary: You and König have dinner together. He thinks about you in the shower.

A/N: I'm alive! sorry about the delay. I promise you'll fuck in the next chapter

AO3 Link: Looney Tunes

König responds to your usual greeting with a grunt, eyes flickering down to you. He’s in fatigues again, covered in what is definitely blood, filling the elevator with the smell of iron and sweat. You can read the tension in his shoulders, the way he slumps into himself. A wave of sympathy washes over you. 

“König,” your voice surprises both of you, and you clear your throat. “You look… tired.” 

He gives you a shrug and a noncommittal noise. He helped you carry your groceries, and he got that light in the parking garage fixed for you. Favors are not weird. You press on.

“Why don’t you go clean yourself up and I’ll make you something to eat?” you say shyly. “Not cereal. If you tell me your apartment number I can bring it up to you?” 

The soft look in his eyes is almost worth the panic you feel when you get back to your apartment and realize you don’t have anything in your fridge. You throw together some pasta, mentally cursing yourself for never buying fresh parmesan. 

König lets ice cold water run over him, blood circling the drain. Even with the chill, his dick stands at attention. He curses into the silence, fighting a losing battle against his self control. You’ll be here soon, sharing a meal, all alone with him. He’s been so good. So patient. 

 You were completely unaware of the grasp you had on him, inconspicuous words branding themselves into his brain and bringing him to his knees. 

König wants you, wanted you ever since that first interaction. You seemed so unafraid of him, unaware of how easily he could snap your pretty neck. Your survival instincts could use some work, so clueless to his shadowy presence behind you, overly friendly when everyone else was running scared.

You were adorable. Delectable. Stumbling into him, wasting your breath on whatever silly thought popped into your head. Letting him barge into your life without complaint. He wonders if you'd let him inside of you with just as much ease. 

Doubtful, with how big he is.

His grip around his dick is so tight that it's painful, but he fights on, eyes scrunched tight, imagining how tight your pussy must be, bucking into his hand. He'd have to stretch you open first, make you cum on his fingers before he could even think of fucking you.

You’re looking up at him, eyes dewy, lips parted as he slams his hips against yours. You gasp every time he’s fully inside you, crying out and digging your nails into his back as his cock drags against your g spot.

"Sei leise häschen, you don't want the neighbors to hear." he coos down at you, dick throbbing when you whine in response. 

In the aftermath, he feels dirty, shame curdling his desire. 

You were so sweet. He could imagine you right now, humming in your kitchen, making dinner for him. König washes himself quickly, his traitorous mind still full of the thought of you. 

Something about you, so light and ridiculous, brings him to the brink. He had never intended to kiss you that night. You had been far too drunk, but something about holding you in his arms had made his cock rock hard and his reason desert him as you blinked up at him, confused and a little frightened. You had tasted better than he thought you would, so warm and soft, melting into it, and he had wanted to eat you. 

He pushes down the memory of the way your lips felt on his when there’s a knock on the door. 

The door to König’s apartment swings open, and you make eye contact with the muscular planes of his still damp torso, laced with scars and bruises. Your traitorous eyes follow his happy trail down to the sweat pants sitting dangerously low on his hips before you’re able to catch yourself, face burning as you snap your head up to look at him. 

“Sorry häschen, I lost track of time,” König says carelessly, pulling the t-shirt in his hand over his head. You exhale quietly, your thoughts an incoherent screech. The t-shirt does nothing to hide his form, stretching across his pecs, his biceps bulging. He smells amazing, something cleanly masculine, and your head swims at the proximity. He smiles at you in his odd, crooked way, and looks down at the dish cradled in your hands. 

“What did you cook for us?” He asks.

“Uh…” God, you’re articulate. You look down at the pasta, trying to pull yourself together. “I just threw together some ziti. I hope it’s okay.” 

“I am famished, I’d be happy with cereal.” He steps aside, and you get your first look at his apartment. The set up is similar to yours, everything in the same place, but his is bare. The furniture is nice, all blacks and grays, but there’s nothing on the walls, not even a tv in the living room. A bookshelf is the only real sign of life, filled to the brim with books. You make a beeline for the kitchen, placing the hot dish on the stove. 

“Where do you keep the bowls?” you ask, reaching up to open one of the cupboards. König soundlessly enters the kitchen behind you, and he crowds in close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body as he grabs the bowls from the top shelf. Between this and the way he touched your face the last time you saw him, you wonder if he’s purposefully fucking with you. 

He sits an appropriate distance away from you on the couch, which gives you enough room to start having coherent thoughts again. You study him as he wolfs down the food, vindicated when he finishes an entire bowl and helps himself to more. There are dark circles under his eyes, and the tracing of some ugly bruises forming on his knuckles.

“Rough day?” you ask. He sighs, leaning back, head thunking softly against the wall. You watch his adam's apple move up and down as he swallows. 

“You have no idea.” he finally murmurs, his eyes slipping closed. 

You take a private moment to admire the contours of his face, the jagged, slightly crooked set of his nose, the light scars littering his skin. Your eyes trace down his long neck to his collar bones, and you stop yourself from lingering any lower. That was a dangerous game to play. You break out of your indecent contemplation, rising to your feet and taking the empty bowls to the sink.

“Come back here,” König’s voice has a petulant edge to it, his eyes are open again, tracking your movements. He pats the couch next to him, and you tentatively move to sit down, trying to give him space. You don’t want to overstep. He lets out a huff, one large arm reaching for you, pulling you towards him, crushing you against his chest. You squeak in surprise, and he loosens the grip he has on you slightly. You lay your head on his chest. His heartbeat is loud against your ear. 

The room is dark when you wake, König’s voice rumbling in your ear, “Wake up, little one.” 

You’re groggy, and disoriented, trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings.

“What time is it?” Your voice is scratchy from sleep. There’s a dim light coming from the bedroom, and your eyes slowly adjust.

“It’s almost midnight. You’ve got to scurry back to your hole, häschen,” König says, but he’s still got his arms wrapped around you, trapping you against his body. “Or maybe I just won’t let you leave,” his voice is almost playful, but there's a dissonant chord to it. You wiggle against his grip, and after a beat he releases you, allowing you to stand. 

“M’sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you say with a yawn. You pat your pockets to make sure you’ve got your keys and phone and head towards the door. König trails behind you. When you hesitate at the door, you’re struck with deja vu, the similarity of last night. 

“Thanks for dinner,” he says softly. You smile up at him, then steel your nerve. In a quick motion, you raise yourself up on your tiptoes, grabbing the collar of his shirt and bringing him to your level. You place a quick kiss on his lips and try to pull away, but he stops you, wrapping his arms around you, dragging you in for another kiss. His mouth is warm against yours, hungry and insistent, and you let out a gasp when he nips your bottom lip. When he pulls away, his pupils are dilated, his cheeks flushed. You both stare at each other breathlessly. 

“You’ve got work early,” he says, his voice low. “I’d hate to keep you.” 

You’re suddenly self conscious, hyper aware of the soft dismissal. He’s not wrong, but you wanted him to want you to stay. “Have a good night, König,” you murmur. He softly kisses your forehead, and you creep out the door. 

You can feel his eyes on your back all the way to the elevators.

○○○●●●○○○●●●○○○

Taglist

if you want to be tagged for the update let me know in the replies.

@whos-fran @crazy-phan-girl13 @rebelatbay @kaeriustehe @envy-kitty @dillybuggg @mxblobby @nakedcrackers @aigeneratedprincess

[avoidantrecovery]

at the core of my avoidance is the body <--> mind separation, this is the conclusion i have come to. simply put, a traumatic event made me dissociate and retreat into my mind/cerebral-self. there i am safe, i am queen, i can think things through, i can imagine, i can lose myself in fantasy or simply not exists as a corporeal entity. i also think it's no surprise i went from being an extremely outgoing, extroverted kid, to a quiet kid (and eventually adult) who is into computers. (more about this in another post, just know that i am an old and have been chronically online since the geocities days, since like 2001 or so).

and each time i (feel like i) have to return into my body (because we need to be in our bodies to truly be vulnerable, to bond with others, to share intimacy etc... but also in order to grow, to move past our fears etc...) it's almost like a knee-jerk reaction. anxiety shoots up, b/c last time i was in my body terrible things happened, so i avoid and retreat into my mind.

that is where the avoidance is born from. and the perfectionism, since if i am able to do it, whatever it may be, perfectly, i can avoid potential rejection, potential danger, right?? i can feel somewhat safe (for the time being) in my body and get whatever needs to be done, done. however, without perfectionism, it feels impossible. and perfection is impossible in itself, so a lot of stuff gets half done, not at all or done and i'm very unhappy with the result, even if it's a big achievement.

that is also where the self-sabotage is born. it's like perfectionism + procrastination + time. eventually, even the best opportunity dies off and disappears.

now, how do i exist in my body, without feeling danger and fear, without having to retreat into the cerebral and avoid?

over the past couple of days i've noticed that it's even simple things, replying to an email, answering a phone call, dealing with family, esp. distant family, it all forces me to be in my body and just have mini crashouts.

and limerence is also very cerebral, it's all about experiencing intense emotions while still being avoidant and not having to actually physically interact or even consider that there is another person on the other side of the equation with their own feelings and wishes etc... as described in this post.

i would even say, reading books, blog posts, reddit, etc... about trauma, cptsd, avoidance, limerence, etc... is also a way of being cerebral, of creating distance and almost looking at yourself from a third pov and analysing and thinking and trying to figure it out with your mind.

it's all just in my head (heh) but quite literally.

how to own this body and not want to run from it and not feel like it's a spaceship and i need a little escape pod to get away each time i feel unsafe??

🗣🗣THAT IS THE QUESTION

(i really struggled to put this into words, i hope it makes sense)

[im-getting-help]

The way people reacted to Saltburn reminded me of a tiktok trend or "challenge" in which you had to watch the opening scene of Nocturnal Animals (2016).

(I'm not going to spoil the movie, go watch it is beautiful.)

It reminded me because the movie is so interesting and enthralling but it was played for jokes. No one was watching the movie, they felt "disgusted and uncomfortable" even though they didn't even tried to watch it.

The commentary of Saltburn was so similar, it really upset me. It was like people were saying "yeah, we watched it this time, it's still too gross".

Nocturnal Animals explores the tense relationship between the protagonists in a very gruesome and violent way. Those choices are not made for shock value, they tell a story. The same way Saltburn showed desire and obsession and in my opinion the perfect representation of unchecked limerence with the bathtub and cemetery scenes.

I have no doubt that in a few years they will be a new tiktok (or new platform) challenge that dares you to record your reaction of the cemetary scene with no context. And it makes me so sad.

It makes me sad not only because of the unappreciation of such amazing movies, but because I feel we are teaching teenagers to not have media literacy. I honestly feel like we're allowing people to just watch movies like they're cocomelon. And I think is dangerous for cinema.

Martin Scorcese shared in a few interviews how he feel that the popular movies are not really cinema, that they fail to convey real emotion and they don't take risks. I think he's right, he makes a direct reference to the MCU but to me he's describing at least 70% of the movies that comes out in a year.

Everything is simple, easy to understand, overly explained. A cast full of well known actors and a beautiful score, or a passable one, and you have a movie. You don't need a new story to tell, not really, you can just reuse an old one. Make a retelling, a remake, a live-action adaptation, a secuel or a prequel with lots of CGI. You got a movie, congrats.

To me the new movies are always disappointing, they're a way to kill time but never a moment to appreciate art.

And this is why the criticism of Saltburn frustrates and saddens me so much. Cause is not a perfect movie (well, to me it is), but is so SO much more than what we're served on a daily basis. It's rich and complex and beautiful to watch. The score is fun and playful and at times heartbreaking and breathtaking. The actors are just incredibly talented and well directed. The clothing and makeup is just a wonder to watch, going from the cringe of 2006 teenage fashion to the opulent gowns and suits. So much of this movie is a pleasure to observe, to discover.

It breaks my heart to think that the future of cinema is... white noise, filler, the equivalent to eating a sandwich instead of cooking a meal cause you're too tired to do more. So much so that when you're presented with a home cooked meal you're unable to enjoy the taste, too accustomed to simplicity.