#to be vulnerable is not a weakness

[thegirlinblueblog]

Esperanza en la espera

Just came across this phrase. A Spanish phrase which means, "Hope in the waiting." I'm often asked, why don't I leave him. Why don't I put an end to it. A seal and a sign is enough to dismantle the intuition I once wholeheartedly believed in. This time I really wanted to get married, I wasn't forced. I wanted to taste the sweetness of a shongshaar. I wanted to experience motherhood and to have someone to call mine.

Why don't you leave him they ask. Idk, as if the answer is so simple. Perhaps it’s because I believe in the infinite power of Allah, in the possibility of hearts being softened and minds being enlightened by His grace. I cling to the feeble hope that a day will come when he will awaken from his deep slumber of ignorance and arrogance, he will awaken to the weight of his actions. Perhaps one day he will realise how every action in this world is like a ripple affect and it affects everyone, it leaves a print in pages of this world, the pages that will be opened and read in the other. I delusionally hope Allah's mercy will touch him. And me. He will also will be able to taste the sweetness of belonging to someone.

The illumination of my Lord evaporated jahiliya, overturned the land of lot, perished the tribe of Aad and Samud and what I face is a mere trial. So I dream of a day he'll change, not for my sake, but for the sake of the One who created him and for the sake of the child he bore with me. A child who kisses the soil he walks on. There'll come day he'll stop worshipping his ego and his nafs and worship the Most Benevolent, instead.

And so, I retreated from him, not in surrender, but for a safe physical and mental distance, where his presence cannot erode what is left of my spirit. A distance that I hope he uses to reflect on his actions, distance I hope he will not fill desperately through his pursuits of sensation seeking.

I won't terminate this institution I once believed in and I believed it wholeheartedly. Still do. I know what this process does to a being. I buried a fragment of myself that will never resurface after the last one. A part of me I can't ever see eye to eye. This time, I'll not run uphill. In this strange, almost sacred delusion, I will wait. I'll wait not out of weakness, indecision or desperation, but because waiting has become my mother tongue, the only language I'm fluent in. Through which I can still articulate the world around me and whatever that remains of my warmth.

A friend told me today,

"Love unconditionally and without expecting anything in return, not even love or care."

I really want to try this madness. It'll either end this delusion I'm holding onto like a lunatic or it'll end me. When did I ever play safe with my life?

[reefsharkivist]

white gilgamesh it’s a disaster

since beer + milk will make milk faster

[the-girl-with-too-many-ideas]

Shen Yuan's life would have actually been far more difficult if he was the only transmigrator. Instead of airplane, he would have been dealing with an active and malicious spy who would not have hesitated to take advantage of him and his situation.

Either he believes the entire amnesia story or picks up that SY is an imposter. Maybe even both. He believes the amnesia first but then realizes something more is going on when he tries to take advantage of the so-called "amnesia."

Whatever the case, Shen Yuan's life would have gone from easy mode to medium or even outright hard.

[mollysunder]

I just can't turn my brain off for episode 7 because it's foundations are so contradictory. How can we believe that Piltover decided to change it's ways because one Zaunite kid died when Piltover has collectively proven throughout season 1 and 2 that they don't care about those kids?!!??

In season 1 enforcers regularly harassed and assaulted children in Zaun. In Act 1, Marcus tried to fire his pistol at Powder when she tried to escape him, he only stopped because she was out of range. Vi was a teenager when prison guards regularly beat her as she was falsely impropisoned in Stillwater by the same enforcer without question. Caitlyn didn't care that a child as young as Isha (probably 8) got thrown into Stillwater and neither did any of the guards. Jayce felt guilty that he killed Renni's son, but he never apologized for what he did, and chose to leave his body in the same place, in the same position he died for Renni to find her boy.

Remember that one scene where the camera lingered on that one Piltovan kid who has hurt when Jinx diverted the Grey back on Piltover and Ambessa wiped a tear from his eye? It's sad to know a child got hurt by the Grey, but do you know what other child was hurt by the Grey? VIKTOR. He was hurt by the Grey as a child, to the point that it was killing him by the time he was an adult, but Piltover, including Heimerdinger NEVER saw that as a wrong to be righted. I could keep going on about the ways the Piltovan cast have harmed children in one way or another, but that would get repetitive. The point is Piltover and it's cast have consistently proven that they don't care about children in Zaun in any way that matters, so to assume that Vi's death would bring about change is just dishonest to the story that's been told up until that episode.

[chezlalune]

If you're not okay, you can always tell me.

OUR YOUTH 未成年 (2024) EPISODE 04

[aventurineswife]

Hello how are you I hope you're taking requests if yes may I ask for blade with a deity reader who can heal his mara but it comes at a price for the reader and it leaves them with side effects and blade doesn't realise till the side effects start showing and it's not enough to kill them but enough to get them weaker

Fleeting Salvation

Summary: Burdened by the torment of mara, Blade reluctantly accepts your healing, which can temporarily soothe his pain. However, the process comes at a steep price, leaving you weaker each time. As Blade begins to notice the toll it’s taking on you, he struggles with the unfamiliar fear of losing someone who willingly sacrifices themselves for his sake.

Tags: Blade x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Touch of Fluff, Immortality and Suffering, Sacrificial, Deity!Reader, Slow Burn.

Warnings: Themes of self-sacrifice, Mentions of pain and suffering (mara-related), Emotional vulnerability, Physical weakness/exhaustion from overusing powers.

A/N: First time writing a Bladie centred fic, i probably got the mara thingy wrong since I'm always confused by it😭😀

Blade leaned against the cold steel wall of the Stellaron Hunters' hideout. The endless pull of mara clawed at his mind, a cacophony of whispers and screams that never ceased. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his broken sword, the jagged edges digging into his palm like a cruel reminder of his shattered existence.

"You're restless again." your voice, soft as starlight, echoed through the dim chamber.

Blade's eyes snapped to you, a figure glowing faintly in the dark. You carried an otherworldly grace, a testament to your divine nature. A healer, Elio had said—a being who could offer him fleeting solace. He had scoffed at the notion when you first arrived, but now he couldn’t deny the faint reprieve you granted him, however temporary.

“I’m always restless.” he replied gruffly, averting his gaze.

You approached, unbothered by his curt tone. Blade was always guarded, his demeanor like an impenetrable fortress, but you had seen glimpses of the pain he carried—a pain so profound it rivaled the stars' lifespans. Kneeling beside him, you placed a hand on his arm.

"Let me help." you offered, your voice steady despite the weight of what you were about to do.

Blade hesitated, his brows furrowing. “You’ve done enough. It’s pointless.”

“It’s not pointless if it brings you peace, even for a moment.” you countered gently.

He didn’t argue further, though his jaw clenched. Blade allowed you to place your hands over his chest, your fingertips glowing faintly as your power flowed into him. A radiant warmth spread through his body, soothing the burning chaos of mara. For the first time in hours, the voices in his head grew quieter, retreating like a tide.

Blade exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing. But as the light dimmed and the healing concluded, you swayed slightly, your breath hitching.

“Are you alright?” Blade’s voice was sharper than usual, his gaze narrowing as he noticed your pale complexion.

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing, but you couldn’t let him know. Healing mara was not like mending physical wounds; it demanded more than energy. It tore at your very essence, leaving you weaker each time. You had accepted this cost willingly, knowing that your gift could ease Blade’s torment, but you hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to hide the toll it was taking.

Days passed, and Blade began noticing the changes. You moved slower, your hands trembling slightly when you thought no one was looking. The glow that once surrounded you like a protective aura now flickered weakly, as though a storm had dimmed your light.

“Stop lying to me.” Blade demanded one evening as you stumbled after a session. He caught you before you fell, his grip firm yet uncharacteristically gentle.

“It’s fine...” you murmured, leaning against him as your strength faltered.

“It’s not fine,” he growled, his frustration spilling over. “You’re weakening yourself for me. Why?”

Your eyes met his, soft but unwavering. “Because you deserve to live without pain, even if it’s only for a while. You’ve suffered enough, Blade.”

His hands tightened around your arms, his jaw working as he struggled to find the words. No one had ever willingly borne a burden for his sake. He didn’t understand it—why you would sacrifice yourself, even partially, for someone as broken as him.

“Don’t do this again,” he said, his voice low but fierce. “Whatever price you’re paying, it’s not worth it.”

“It’s not your choice to make,” you replied, your tone firm despite your exhaustion. “I’m choosing this. For you.”

For the first time in centuries, Blade felt something unfamiliar—a pang of fear. He had spent so long chasing his own destruction, yet now, the thought of losing you unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain.

Blade began watching over you more closely after that. He noticed every tremor in your hands, every falter in your step. He tried to refuse your help, but the mara would always resurface, its relentless pull forcing him to rely on you again and again.

One day, after another grueling healing session, Blade didn’t let you leave. Instead, he sat with you, his expression unreadable as you rested against the wall, drained.

“You’re a fool...” he muttered.

“Probably.” you admitted with a faint smile.

Blade’s eyes softened, the weight of your sacrifices pressing heavily on him. “I don’t want this.”

“You don’t want the pain either,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “Let me carry a little of it, Blade. Just for a while.”

He didn’t answer, but the silence that followed wasn’t his usual cold indifference. It was something else—something fragile, like a thread connecting the two of you in the vast emptiness of the universe.

For the first time in a long while, Blade found himself wanting something more than destruction. He wanted you—and that terrified him more than anything.

[awaywithself]

Thinking about zosan where they butt heads during the day, shoes to blades, scalding words, scathing glares. while none of it holds any real weight, they still play up this grand facade of hating each other, swearing by the stars they can’t stand to be in the same room.

but when night falls, those same stars pay witness to how zoro lingers in the galley as sanji cleans up after dinner, dozing off to the gentle clinks of washed plates. they see how sanji climbs up to the crow’s nest long after everyone has fallen asleep, with blankets and a bottle of zoro’s favorite sake in tow.

they see how zoro ambles into the men’s quarters after night watch and clambers into his hammock, bumping not-so-subtly into sanji’s. they see how sanji gently rouses at the movement, and when zoro’s settled, his breathing even, he slides out of his own bed and climbs in with him. he nudges him over, zoro huffing with childish and weightless petulance as he shifts to give sanji the space to curl into his side. they stay like that for however long the darkness of night lasts, sanji’s head on zoro’s chest and zoro’s arm around him, tucked close into each other, warm under the blankets and briefly, blissfully impervious.

and when the sun rises, chasing away the stars and their secrets, they part and do it all over again.

[ewwww-what]

It will be the cry of an animal in pain.

[eldritch-bf]

I had an epiphany.

[retourpresdetoi]

hey mouthwashing analysts, do we maybe want to think a bit before comparing a full grown man, who is just heavily disabled, to a baby? like a literal infant? especially when there's a stronger metaphorical/psychological/symbolic avatar for the baby and pregnancy already present within the narrative? (multiple even!)

[race-week]

Are we ever going to get to a point in this sport where a driver can discuss mental health issues and not be ridiculed for it, or called weak?

Every time a driver has spoken out about their mental health issues, yes there has been some support but the majority of responses seem to be people taking the piss, it happened to JEV, Bottas, Rosberg, Ricciardo, among others.

If someone mentions an issue, they aren’t doing it to garner sympathy, they aren’t weak for bringing it up, and keeping this mentality is just going to prevent people, men and boys particularly, from speaking up about their issues

[casualavocados]

You've never done that when I got close to you before. Why? None of your business. Tell me, or you can't leave.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 10

[hajihiko]

“oh no people tell me I have no sense of personal space and I'm a man and her unofficial coach what if I've been making her uncomfortable- and Akane is like nah. You're not gonna do anything to me I can feel it. Like hes the only person who can overpower her but he just uses that strength to be there for her” og my god. i need a minute after that ome. god i had a whole long winded analysis of this and i was gonna put it all here but i seriously have no words. this is so real in every possible way and a lil too relatable lmfao

ITMEANS A LOT TO ME OKAY. I too could rsnt but idk where it would go

[demonio-fleurs]

rewatching one piece episode 1119 has me thinking a lot about sabo + his emotions

like. you can see in the episode that what happened to king cobra genuinely affected him. he wanted to save king cobra, and he was obviously upset at his inability to save king cobra. and we know from the manga that when he is a stowaway on the ship back to lulusia, he thinks back to king cobra's dying words and has a pained expression.

yet... to dragon and ivankov, he tells them he is okay with what happened if it fuels the flames of the revolution. he keeps a straight face, despite shaking a bit, and does his best to seem unaffected by what happened.

and then i think back to dressrosa, when koala called sabo after he reunited with luffy, and how sabo didn't cry when he saw luffy, but cried after when talking to koala.

and then i remember how young he was when he was named chief of staff. what a heavy burden that is on the shoulders of someone so young. how he has probably forced himself to be strong, to show no weakness or vulnerability because weakness and vulnerability can be used against him and he is responsible for the lives of hundreds if not thousands of people. how he has probably tried to model himself off of dragon, who is stoic and doesn't easily show his emotions. or kuma, who after suffering a massive loss threw himself harder into his work, pushed himself further to achieve their goals.

and it makes me wonder... if we'll ever get to a breaking point with sabo. if something will happen that will just make him snap and lose that mask, that strength he hides his vulnerabilities behind. and i wonder what that would look like.

[ohitslen]

Promises

He should know better. 

Wolfwood has seen Vash make promises, or hear about the ones he has made in the past. He has also seen the end of each one and how every single time the outcome is less than what was promised. 

Vash likes to say embellished words, with a soft and determined voice that lures you into his hopes and dreams, it almost feels like a spell, as if he was calling for you to come closer and believe him. But Wolfwood knows better.

He believes in him, but Vash is much closer to being an idealistic dreamer than a realistic person like he is. He might not be aware of it, but his beautiful promises of a better future give people hope, a hope that is usually embraced with things like disappointment and abandonment. 

He doesn’t think that Vash does it with the intent of looking for any of those things. Far from it, he might even do the impossible in order to accomplish said promises, but life is too short and humans are too mortal for his wishes, so in the end, most of Vash’s promises end up being empty or they come to haunt him as a reminder of his failed vows. He admires the man, for his perseverance and idealism, but he also hates the man, for his stubbornness and lies. 

Wolfwood knows all of this perfectly to a tee. And yet, he has also found himself being drawn to his world. Because he also dreams of it.

A world in where his always present calls for love and peace exist, a world that is far more kind than what he might deserve, a world in where the kids can be happy and roam around without any worry in their heads, a world in where he can peacefully turn grey with age and his hands can shed the harsh callouses of his life. Who knows, maybe a world in where he and Vash can finally know the peace that was taken away from them, in where they can share the calmness that comes with the passage of time, indulging in every tick of the clock welcoming with open arms whatever comes their way without any fear.

It is a beautiful promise. But Wolfwood is a person that has to keep his feet on the ground, indulging in “what ifs” would only make things harder than what they had to be. He can’t have any ifs if he can’t make it through the now. And by the way he is carrying his present, he is doubtful he will even get to see a shed of that promised world that Vash tries to drag him into. So why mourn something he doesn’t even have, or will ever have for that matter.

He hates the way Vash seems to promise things so easily. His tongue silky and pliant, slipping divine words one after the other, promises way too big for what that barren world can actually fit. 

But when Vash talks to him in that holy voice of his, when he hears him say “It’s okay, everything will be alright, I promise” so gently right on his ear, while he holds his face so tenderly making him focus on him and nothing else, he wants to believe him.

He has seen the end of his promises. He knows how impossible they are. But for once, he wants to believe it too. Believe in that loving world that will cradle them both until they fall asleep, listening to the soft sound of the wind laughing while the moons smile upon them. 

So he allows himself to indulge in the warmth of his palms, leaning into the comfort of his existence, feeling the soft air of Vash’s breaths against his skin while their foreheads meet in a touch that feels like a hot brand that will melt him.

For an instant, he allows himself to be selfish and believe that maybe, that is how living in that world Vash so desperately fights for would be. Soft and warm, making him feel safe in the hollow of Vash’s hands where the world seems to fit so well. A world where the blue sky is a blanket that covers the love and care that is nestled in it like the one in Vash’s eyes. He wants to see that world.

For now, he will selfishly think that the world that fits in Vash’s hands is right there in where he is holding him, where his blue eyes are drowning in the light of the sunset dripping with love and care while looking at him, that the gentle touch of Vash’s thumb wiping his tears is the same as the kiss of that laughing wind in that distant future, where the smile of his eyes overcomes the smile of the moons.

He should know better. But he loves the thought of that world. And he hopes that Vash will get to see that world, because that gentle sight is more fitting for someone like him than the one of his violent world.

He promises to himself that he will do what it takes for that day to be possible. Even if the end of that promise will be empty for Nicholas, he knows it will be a full one for Vash. So it really isn’t that empty for him after all.

He hates his lies, and he hates how true they sound, but Vash’s embellished words are far sweeter than his bitter thoughts so they feel better on his insides, almost like a balm that cares for the wounds of his throbbing, painful reality.

He should know better.

But aren’t humans weak at the promise of love?

[joejoeba]

I always wanted to do a comic about it but I could never think of anything succinct. Anyway hc that Aerosmith does have a pilot (Mr. Smith?) Like there's a little guy in there. And Mista 🤝 Narancia - Stands that are little guys