#vessels beautiful brain

[wooly-nooly]

Vessels interpretation of trauma is so important to me

“The way that you were”

“You will never be the same”

“No amount of self sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence”

He sees and portrays trauma as a new version of yourself, and it is. He displays the fact that you cant get the old you back, they’re gone. “Innocence” is the previous you because your damaged now, you can heal but the thing about trauma is that it doesn’t ever fully go away

“No matter what i do the scars will never fade”

“They talk me through the damage, consequence and how its a pain they know they don’t understand”

Trauma is such a personal thing, even if you were to go through the traumatizing experience with someone; it was different for them. I could talk forever on this and i might add to this later when i have more time but i cannot begin to express how vessels interpretation of trauma makes me feel.

[silusvesuius]

nnnnnnnnnnnnno maa'am

[skunkes]

gonna keep making this post forever i guess because it just keeps getting wilder the more time passes and my brain forgets the immediate sensations/experience but i can't believe i got SURGERY. CRAZY. Not even this specific surgery but the fact that I got any surgery at all!!! SO WILD

[shouts-into-the-void]

I'm becoming more and more convinced that everyone mad about the changes made in the Percy Jackson series just don't have critical thinking skills

[devilat-thedoor]

a man’s descent into madness

[mars-ipan]

i am hoping to never have to get another colonoscopy again (until i’m old enough to need to get them etc etc) but tbh i would very much like to experience the relief and comfort i felt when i woke up, was able to eat a warm meal (meatloaf + mashed potatoes, perfect comfort food (and it being soft was great bc i had had a endoscopy and broncoscopy done too so my throat was SORE)) for the first time in over 24 hours, got to wear super comfy anti-blood-clot compression boots, was on regular doses of IV tylenol and therefore the most pain free i had been in ages, and then got to sleep for the rest of the day. AND there was the joy of being told i didn’t have crohn’s. it was solid

[tiredtriedfailures]

sad to report there is no way of hating your body without going "before you criticize your X always remember, your X wont change but your friends with X will see this" no peace no nothing cant a guy hate parts of their body without hurting anyone

[candycannibal]

.

[velidewrites]

When it comes to our fiery duo, are you a strict believer in the signature coronet braid or is there other styles that really speak to you?

And are we rocking long hair Eris or a short hair truther?

Your Santa

HI SANTA

Another excellent question 👁️🫦👁️ I just follow what I know is true in my heart: they’re both so hot they could pull any hairstyle off.

I will say though, I’ve always been a short haired Eris girlie but lately all the art has been swaying me to the dark side, and Eris VanLongHair does have me a little insane these days

[gothsuguru]

prev rb i don’t think op understands the psychic damage they did to me (affectionate) that post is gonna live inside my brain like a parasite i’m gonna think about it for AGES

[figthoughts]

dean winchester and his sweet little angel girlfriend 18+ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

— smut, shy/inexperienced reader, est. relationship

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

dean's large leather boots clunked down the hallway of the bunker as he headed towards his room, fresh off a hunt and eager to see his little angel after almost a week of being apart. despite texting and praying everyday, he had missed his girl like crazy.

the loud footsteps didn't even register in your brain as you desperately rocked your hips, riding dean's pillow. your eyes were squeezed shut and you bit at your bottom lip, trying to stifle your pathetic little moans from echoing beyond dean's room, feeling embarrassed and shameful about pleasing yourself.

dean's brow quirked as he heard the soft noises coming from his bedroom. he sped up his footsteps and arrived at the door, slowly pushing it further open to peek inside.

his lips grew into a smirk and he leaned against the doorframe, watching you grind your bare little cunt into his pillow. he watched as your chest rose and fell with every little pant. he felt himself begin to harden under his jeans.

“damn, baby,” he began after silently watching you for a few moments, “is this what you do when i'm out on a hunt? ride my pillow like that?” he tilted his head, the smirk remaining on his lips.

you looked at him with wide eyes, blush slowly rising to your cheeks as the embarrassment clenched at your chest, a feeling you were still trying to get used to in your human vessel.

“dean!” you gasped, “you’re home! i— i didn't know you’d be back tonight,” you muttered sheepishly, embarrassed you'd been caught riding his pillow. you were frozen on top of it as you stared at him.

“hey, it’s okay. i just wanted to surprise you,” he responded softly, stepping into the room and closing his door, “but i guess my little angel's gone and done that for me already,” he let out a quiet huff of a laugh, “s'okay, baby. it was hot, so hot, i promise. keep going for me, yeah? i wanna see my girl cum on my pillow.”

your cheeks heated up even more at the idea of continuing to please yourself in front of him. you'd only just gotten comfortable with having sex with dean in these past few months, the idea of doing this felt almost sinful.

dean sat down on the edge of the bed, a gentle smile on his face. he brushed his hand over your cheek, noticing the apprehension on face, “go on, angel. please?” he asked, his voice a low murmur. he searched your eyes, almost pleadingly.

you let a small shy smile spread across your lips, enjoying the warmth and familiarity of his touch. you looked into his green eyes. you couldn’t help but see his love for you. you felt that funny feeling in your chest again, pulling at your heartstrings. you knew you could trust him to watch, to see you this vulnerable.

with a nervous little sigh, you settled your legs and hips back into the pillow, “mmph, fine. just don't— don't say anything. i feel silly, dean.”

he chuckled and let his eyes trace over you, almost reverently. “don't. don't feel silly. you look incredible, baby. it's hot to see my girl making herself feel good... especially on my pillow in my zeppelin shirt,” he smiled and tugged at the shirt you had mindlessly thrown on earlier that evening.

“mmm, okay…” you looked down, trying to hide your sheepish smile, and began rolling your hips over the pillow again. you let out a soft hum of pleasure and avoided his gaze, looking down at your hands as they squeezed the end of the pillow.

“baby, look at me. i wanna see your pretty face... please?” dean asked, his voice just above a whisper. he watched as you slowly lifted your head, your eyes finally meeting his gaze. he smiled softly, watching your cheeks flush again. “you look so beautiful, angel. my pretty baby,” he cooed, his eyes watching you in awe as you rode his pillow, your bare pussy drooling at the friction.

you let out soft little whimpers as you dug your heat further into the fabric, drenching it with your arousal. dean's jeans grew tighter and tighter and he shifted uncomfortably on the bed, keeping his gaze on you, taking in the sight of his angel looking so pretty and pathetic.

it was a side of you that you didn’t allow him to see very often. he was infatuated with you, his angel letting her guard down and being so vulnerable in front of him. he was used to your firm demeanour and sometimes odd, but endearing little comments you’d make about the world as you learnt more, seeing it all through your angel eyes.

as he watched you hump his pillow and let out sweet little whimpers, his heart thudded in his chest. he was watching you become more human. become more like him. and it made his heart swell, knowing it was all from watching and learning from him. and maybe his brother.

he grinned as your soft noises became louder and louder, enjoying the way you were becoming so shameless and wanton as you rode the pillow. he leaned back on the bed, trying to find relief for his aching cock, trapped by the denim of his jeans.

“that’s it, sweet girl. let me hear those pretty little whimpers. you’re so damn beautiful.” dean said, his words making your head spin a little as you mindlessly humped his pillow.

dean chuckled, watching your legs shake and muscles tense as you neared your orgasm. you felt the tightness in your stomach grow, obscene words and grunts flying out of your mouth, dean's name leaving your lips like a prayer.

dean couldn't get enough of this. of you. you looked so little and beautiful, his own little angel pleasuring herself on his pillow. he considered himself the luckiest man in the world, blessed even. blessed that a heavenly little thing like you would want an old, damaged hunter like himself. in moments like this, he really felt his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

you were heaven sent. you were his girl. his angel. and he was so damn proud about it.

his eyes stayed locked on you as you drove your pussy into the pillow harder, leaving a little wet patch just below you. dean smiled even wider and his tongue shot out, wetting his lips as he noticed it, a soft groan escaping his mouth.

your face scrunched and a loud whimper left your mouth as your hips jerked on the pillow. “gonna-- mmm, dean... gonna cum... please, can i?” you asked innocently through breathy little groans. the sight of your soft, innocent eyes almost made dean melt right there on the bed.

dean nodded, his voice a gentle tone, “yeah, baby. let go. show me how good it feels.”

you cried out and bit your lip as your release washed over you, your soaked little cunt clenching around nothing and drooling onto the pillow even more. your eyes were squeezed shut as little moans and sighs left your mouth. you sounded like a pathetic whiny mess, gushing all over your boyfriend's pillow.

dean's cock strained against his jeans, aching to be freed. his words were deep and rumbled straight out of his chest, “that's it, pretty baby. cum for me. you’re such a good little girl. my perfect angel,” the praises left his lips like a soft hymn, buzzing through your empty little head as you rode the high of your climax.

as you tried to catch your breath, you blinked slowly up at dean. your eyes met and his smile widened, noticing the flushed look on your face, “did so well. sounded like heaven, baby. you're so beautiful.”

you let out a satisfied sigh and rolled your eyes tiredly, “heaven doesn’t have much of a sound, dean,” you commented, sincerity in your voice.

dean laughed as he sat up, adjusting the bulge in his pants, “it's an expression, angel. it's a good thing. means you sounded incredible.”

you smile grew softer at his words, the feelings of shame and embarrassment leaving your chest as he looked at you with such loving eyes. you could feel the adoration in his stare.

“felt incredible,” you mumbled in response. you tilted your head and studied him for a moment, “dean, i— i think i liked you watching me. made it feel better. harder... maybe,” you commented again, the regular factual tone of your voice returning.

dean smirked and tilted his head in return, “oh, yeah? felt better with me watching?” he tutted his tongue against his teeth playfully, “my angel's secretly a dirty little girl. god, what have i done to you?” he said teasingly and chuckled.

you rolled your eyes with a sheepish grin as you sunk down tiredly into the pillow, “i am not filthy... or unpure, dean. and please, refrain from speaking about my father when i’m naked and coming down from an orgasm.”

dean chucked, shaking his head in amusement as he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around your frame and pulling you against him.

he was always entertained by your literal interpretations and how seriously you took things, though he couldn’t deny you were getting better at recognising his jokes and phrases. and he was proud of that.

he squeezed you against his chest, soaking up the feeling of you in his arms again after so many days, “sorry, baby, accident. no more god-talk… but you are filthy. my dirty little angel,” he grinned and kissed the top of your head.

dean looked down at you for a few moments, his green eyes sparkled as they travelled over your features, appreciating your beauty post-orgasm. he carefully laid you back against the mattress, “i'm gonna ruin you to filth, baby. you won't remember a damn thing, but my name when i’m done with you.”

A/N: part two?!!! maybe?? send ideas for part two if u want!!i lowkey like the dynamic between these two. might make a series maybe idk lmk <3 also thank you for 500 followers??? that’s crazy!!!

feedback and reqs are open and encouraged! thanks for reading! reblogs support me and my writing!

[bunny-jpeg]

burnin' tire

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, masturbation, fantasies, mad!max, post-dutch gp, mechanic!reader

love the fic? leave a comment! really love the fic? suggest your own!!

second.

second was first place for losers. that was what he had been told his entire life. second, seconde, secondo, however he could slice it, it still looked bad. so when he stomped back into the paddock with fire in his heart and a storm cloud over his head, the mechanics scattered.

they even went as far as to push you, their newest addition in front of max so they could get a head start away from mad max.

he looked down at you, something in his gaze left you a little shaky at the knees. this was your first race with the team, and you couldn't secure a win for max. it was almost embarrassing.

"i'm sorry, mister verstappen!" you pouted, "i'm really sorry! we tried to move as fast as possible, but i guess we couldn't keep up to mclaren." you worried about your job! you had just started, you were far from home and this was your dream to work for, "i'm so sorry!"

you almost had tears in your eyes, which deflated the anger from max's stance. he dropped his arms and looked at you. he replied, "there's nothing to be sorry about, it happens." as if he hadn't been on a losing streak for some time now.

your bottom lip quivered and your eyes grew watery, "this was your home race. and i'm just so sorry! i just wanted to do good, i wanted you to win!" a few tears fell and max was dumbfounded.

he was used to tearing into the mechanics and the engineers. he was used to snapping his words and letting rage consume him. instead he reached out for you, "hey, it's okay! don't cry. it's alright.'" he even wiped your tears away as your lip wobbled.

you got into his arms and gave him a bit hug. you looked at him and said, "i promise we'll win the next one! i promise!" even in those baggy coveralls you looked cute. if not beautiful.

max felt the anger disappear in his gut and he smiled at you, almost warm, "yes... yes we will." and when he patted you on the head and turned away and out of the paddock.

the other mechanics were in as much shock as you were. and while max would've loved to continue holding you, even reassuring you about the race in monza the following week. max was painfully hard from your brief interaction. it was like all the anger went to his cock and he needed to get out of there before he caused a scene.

back in the red bull motor home, max thought he was going to burst a blood vessel in his head. it was a pain to get into his jeans after he got out of his racing clothes. everything felt like a live wire, to go without masturbating for that long felt painful. especially when the source of his erection was playing in his read.

you smell like motor oil and warm vanilla, your touch was soft when you hugged him and that pretty face. even with the smear of grease on your face and the red bull cap on your head.

"mister verstappen." your voice rang in his head and he didn't even make it to the bed before his cock was in his hand. his palm covered in his spit as he sat on the couch and stroked himself still clothed.

he knew that the team had hired a new mechanic, but to see you in action made his brain feel almost rotten from the lust he felt. he barely paid attention to who was working on the car during the race but he knew you weren't working alone. and yet, you still carried all the responsibility for the team on your shoulders.

you poor thing. he continued to stroke his cock and he panted heavily at the feeling. thoughts of you were in his head as he pleasured himself. he wished you were there to do it for him. even if you wore you coveralls and covered in grease, if you were on your knees in front of him, your mouth on his cock as you pleasured him.

he wondered if you had even done that before. if you had any partners, or even one at the moment. he tried not to let the jealousy curl in his gut. he wasn't even sure, but he wouldn't have been surprised. you were beautiful, and who didn't love a gentle soul. you wanted max to win and max in turn felt towards you that he felt towards no other mechanic. he wanted you to work on his car, but also taking you out to dinner. to show you the finer things in life.

he wondered what colour panties you wore, and what cut. he knew you weren't wearing a thong, no when you were lifting heavy tires all day. he imagined something red, maybe a boy short. something that moved with the curves of your hips and thighs. he thought excited him, it really turned him on. made his face as red as he hoped that your panties would be.

how they'd curve to your ass, when you ran around the pit stop. how you would lift tools around. the strength to you. max liked models, but there was something about you the captivated him. and you didn't even know. you were just a humble mechanic, and you drove max wild.

he continued to stroke his cock heavily. he panted heavily as he felt his dark t-shirt cling to his back. his pace was quick up against his cock, he even spat on his hand once more to just to get the right friction. it was a head rush. he was not immune to masturbation, max did it almost daily if he had the time.

but to picture you in your bra and panties made him excited. hungry like a dog as he fucked his hand. he wished it was your pussy. he wished that he could bully the tip of his cock against you. he wished he could bend you in half and fuck you with a vigor that there were no other words for.

he wondered if you were loud, if he'd have to silence you with your panties. if he's have to cover your mouth or gag you, or would you just burst into tears like you did in the garage. the wet eyes,staring at him, promising that you'd do better next time. it made max want to fuck you even more. he wanted you every way he could have you.

"shit." he groaned through grit teeth as he continued to stroke his cock. he could feel his heart beat in his ears as he continued to masturbate. you were just a little thing, even with your skills as a mechanic, you were still so small. max felt he need to protect you.

he wanted to make sure you needed for nothing. he wondered if you'd have him as your lover. as your partner. the thought made him shudder as he continued to stroke his cock. he felt the head rush it all, he panted heavily as he stroked his cock.

his pace continued and he let himself get lost in the feeling. when it got overwhelming, he finished all over himself. your words rang in his mind, the promises you made. next time will be better. he'd win next time! and as cum dribbled all over his hand, he panted heavily with the head rush. he panted heavily and felt a shudder through climax. he wondered if you were touching yourself tonight, which made his cock twitch in his hand.

he was covered in cum at the waist and he felt hot all over. he rubbed his face with his free hand and for a moment felt in the post-orgasm shame. but it didn't last long.

with the after shivers of euphoria, he knew he had to do something. he couldn't be jerking off in private anytime he saw you. max was a man of action so after he cleaned himself off, he texted horner,

"i was wondering if i could properly meet with our new mechanic, show her the ropes. i think things will be promising with her." he tried to sound as professional as possible, but as thoughts of your watery eyes filled his mind. he knew he'd have to get himself off again soon. <3

[awearywritersworld]

men are so quick to blame the gods

ryomen sukuna x reader summary: your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night. w/c: 2.6k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst/fluff. aged up!yuuji. sa is mentioned but it's pretty much just sukuna saying he doesn't condone it. heavy kissing. obvi features yuuji x reader but it's not at all the focus. cursing. sukuna calls you kitten. i'd like to think he's not too ooc in this but im probably delusional. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: am i rehabbing our handsome vicious psychopath? yes<3 loosely inspired by this post (features manga spoilers) of him being v beautiful and poetic series masterlist // masterlist

humans have always irritated the king of curses— pathetic little vermin scurrying around, utterly oblivious to their own weakness.

so it came as quite a shock to him when he awoke after over a millenia, only to find himself trapped inside the body of some teenaged brat.

nearly 7 years later and he's positive there isn't a person he despises more in the universe. not even the cocky six eyes wielder can elicit sukuna's fury the way itadori yuuji so easily does.

that's why he resolved early on to kill his vessel's pretty little girlfriend, an act he hopes might satiate his spite. he's positive nothing would devastate yuuji more.

luckily for you, life has a funny way of working.

you and yuuji are standing at an intersection in the city, the pink-haired man staring at his phone as he tries to piece together the directions to a new sushi restaurant you've been wanting to try.

when the pedestrian sign on the other side of the street blinks, you step out onto the pavement without checking for oncoming traffic.

"what the-" yuuji's confused voice fills your ears just as a rough hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you backward violently.

a car barrels through the spot you'd just been standing, the driver clearly not paying attention to the traffic signal. you look back just in time to see harsh black marks fading from your boyfriend's arm, though the rest of his body has seemingly remained unblemished.

it's an odd sensation for yuuji because he's never lost control to sukuna in such a manner. he doesn't dwell on it long though, as anger blossoms in his chest.

"do not touch her," he scolds the curse occupying his body.

a mouth appears on his cheek and scoffs. "sure. i'll just let her die next time."

"it's okay, yu," you interject before he can retaliate. "thanks, sukuna. i, uh, appreciate it."

he grumbles something incomprehensible, his mouth quickly disappearing. your boyfriend looks at you bemused, but you only shrug. the fact that yuuji had lost control to sukuna doesn't make you feel nervous or threatened. you're grateful that he kept you from being run over, albeit a bit surprised.

as you continue your walk to the the sushi restaurant, you find yourself not quite able to meet yuuji's eye because... well... you haven't exactly been forthright regarding your relationship with the king of curses.

the first night it happens, you're laying in bed eagerly finishing the final volume of a manga you've been reading. yuuji is fast asleep and has been for hours, though you're used to being the night owl in the relationship.

you keep wiping at your eyes, the cheerful ending tugging at your heartstrings and tying the story together in a beautiful way.

"can you stop with your incessant sniveling? this idiot's brain is so rarely quiet and you're ruining it."

you look over to see the eye beneath your boyfriend's is open, staring at you scornfully.

"can you fuck off?" your tone is obviously meant to mock him. "i'm finishing one of my favorite mangas and you're ruining it."

"need i remind you of your place, brat?" he sneers. "it's dreadfully wretched, crying because you don't like the ending to some stupid story."

"since you're so clearly invested, i'll have you know i'm crying because i do like it."

"..and here i thought you couldn't get any more pathetic."

your eye twitches in annoyance. "just because you're mad about being stuck in 'some idiot human's body' doesn't mean you have to go around projecting your feelings of inadequacy onto other people."

you move your hand to cover the mouth on your boyfriend's cheek before sukuna can respond, hissing out in pain just a moment later.

"oh my god, you actually bit me." you inspect the teethmarks on your palm in disbelief.

"just wait until i win control of this body— the punishment you deserve for such insolence. you'd better hope you're miles away, but even then—"

"holy shit, enough already. i'll go to sleep. enjoy your peace and quiet," you growl angrily, flipping off the lamp and turning away from him. for some reason, you still find yourself mumbling, "good night."

sukuna's eye widens before promptly closing, the silence hanging in the air heavily. it's the longest conversation he's had in years and the first casual pleasantry he's heard in a millenia. he tries to feel satisfied that he got what he wanted in the end, before returning to his quiet solitude.

over the next few months, your late nights are graced somewhat frequently by the king of curses. he mainly complains— the friends you hung out with earlier were annoying, the tv's too loud, it took yuuji twenty minutes to exorcise a curse that sukuna could have dealt with in seconds.

it doesn't bother you nearly as much anymore and he's no longer able to get under your skin like he did that first night. it seems as if he's losing his touch, or perhaps he just isn't trying as hard.

it's around one in the morning, a book resting in your lap while your boyfriend snores softly beside you. sukuna's eye pops open, peering over at the text. "you're reading homer?"

your body jerks, startled by his sudden question, but you recover soon thereafter. "yeah, were you two friends or something?"

"no, you fool," he derides. "he lived far before my time."

though you don't comment on it, you find it amusing that your sarcasm had gone over his head. "oh, you're right. how silly of me to think you had friends."

"such profound witticism. i can hardly contain myself."

you sneak a glance over to find he's narrowed his eye at you and you actually giggle. "sorry."

it doesn't dawn on you how bizarre the interaction is, but sukuna abruptly realizes that something feels different. not once before tonight had he made you laugh.

he pushes the thought from his mind. "i did, however, indulge in his works during the heian period."

"really?" you perk up. it's not often you give him your full attention. "what'd you think?"

"i suppose i liked him well enough. one of my favorite lines comes from the poem you're reading."

you motion your hand for him to continue. "well don't be shy. i'm sitting here with bated breath."

he rolls his eye, but speaks nonetheless.

"men are so quick to blame the gods— they say that we devise their misery..." you realize for the first time how gruff his voice is, the deep reverberations sending a shudder down your spine. "but they themselves, in their depravity, design grief greater than the griefs that fate assigns."

his eye flickers between each of yours before you look back to your book, fiddling with the corner of the page. you're suddenly feeling rather shy. "does that mean you think humans are even crueler than you?"

he muses over your question briefly.

"if i recounted how men would flee the villages i burned, leaving their families behind in a selfish attempt to save themselves.. who would you find more revolting?

you swallow nervously. "i.. i don't know."

"what if i told you of the men who would eagerly offer their wives and daughters to me, hoping i'd spare them.. who would you deem more wicked?"

you're so busy avoiding his gaze that you don't see the way he carefully regards you. a question you're unsure you want the answer to tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. "did you accept? the.. the husbands' offers—"

"no," he responds. "i have little interest in unwilling partners."

"oh. well that's, um, good."

he hums in response, leaving you to process everything he's told you.

"you should stop," you blurt out eventually.

"stop what?"

"being nice to me." you wouldn't normally consider discussing literature then reminiscing about the egregious stories of his past life particularly kind, but then again, it is sukuna you're speaking with. "it's weird."

he rolls his eye again. "you're hardly in any position to be giving me orders, you insufferable brat."

"see? that's much better."

"why are you crying?" his tone is even, conveying neither annoyance or concern. truthfully, he has no idea what compelled him to ask in the first place.

you don't answer, hoping he'll leave you alone. you really don't have it in you tonight, even if sukuna's been much more tolerable recently. it's been weeks since you finished reading homer's epic poem.

the moon is already setting and it's just a few days before your date at the sushi restaurant.

when you sniffle again, he calls your name. you don't register that he doesn't say brat or idiot. it's the first time he's used your actual name.

"w-what do you want?"

"i seem to recall asking you a question."

you're laying on your side, facing away from yuuji and by extension, sukuna.

"i'm not crying," you declare.

sukuna briefly wonders why he's stuck dealing with you while yuuji sleeps, but his inward 'annoyance' is half hearted. "you're an awful liar."

you exhale and turn to look at him. the only light in the room is coming from the tv, but it's enough that he can see you clearly. "sometimes.. i can't help but worry about the execution."

yuuji has told you countless times that gojo has a plan, that he won't let anything happen, but you know what the higher ups are capable of.

and while it's down right shameful, you know that much, it's not only your boyfriend you worry about these days. sukuna's become so commonplace in your life, you almost look forward to talking with him at night.

"the thought of losing yuuji... of losing.. you.. it scares me," you murmur.

your words stir up feelings he's never once experienced and it's confusing to him. "i'd have figured you'd at least be pleased to be rid of me."

"well, i-i kind of thought we were friends now," you share without thinking.

"don't flatter yourself."

he regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth and the guilt he feels as he watches your face fall is unbecoming of a being so powerful. you apologize meekly, shifting (too late) to hide your hurt.

he can't remember a moment in which he's hated being trapped in his vessel's god forsaken body more. he wants to reach out to you, even if the idea feels entirely foreign to him.

but he can't, so he just sighs. "if you think i'm going to let a few feebleminded sorcerers execute me and the brat, you're even more foolish than i thought."

you peer at him, the smallest smile gracing your lips when you realize that's probably as close to an apology as sukuna would ever get.

"promise?"

for fuck's sake. he feels utterly pathetic. completely deplorable. laughable, even—

"yes," he states impassively. "now go to sleep."

"okay." your smile is just a little wider as your fingertips brush the spot below his eye and above his mouth. you wonder if he can even feel it. "good night, sukuna."

"...night, brat."

less than a week after sukuna saves your life at the intersection, yuuji kisses you goodbye as he heads out to a mission. he assures you he'll be early tonight, as he only has to exorcise a semi-grade one cursed spirit in roppongi.

though things don't go quite as planned because in addition to the semi-grade, he finds himself standing before two special grades. he manages to defeat one of the special grades, but the other two leave him badly hurt, his breathing labored.

he has to beg sukuna to switch out with him. the king of curses hasn't forgotten his promise to you and he's no fool— it's clear this is an ambush by the higher ups— but he'll be damned if he wasn't going to have a little fun with the brat first.

he makes quick work of the curses, each of them going rigid with fear as soon as he appears, and it soon becomes apparent that yuuji is too weakened to take back control of his body just yet.

at last, sukuna has his long yearned for freedom and a new world at his fingertips, but there's just one problem... all he wants to do is find you.

when the lock to your apartment clicks, your eyes shift to the door, an excited grin on your face. you can't hide your shock when it isn't your boyfriend that steps inside.

you don't say anything at first, simply following his frame across the room as he approaches you. he leans against the wall a few feet away from where you're sitting on the couch, folding his arms across his chest.

"seems your concerns about the execution weren't unwarranted."

"w-what?!" you exclaim, rising to your feet and taking a step toward him. "what happened?"

he relays the story to you, emphasizing how 'unimpressive' yuuji's power was and how 'terribly simple' it was for him to finish the job his vessel couldn't.

you narrow your eyes at him, only half joking when you ask, "what are you doing here, then? shouldn't you be off pillaging tokyo or something?"

he chuckles. "such a dark mind you have. it wounds me to hear you assume the worst of me."

you bite your lip to hide your smile. "just figured it'd save time."

he closes the space between you and though you can feel the heat radiating from his body, you don't shy away from him. instead, your eyes trail over the dark lines adorning his face and chest.

he reaches up and your breath catches in your throat when the back of his fingers ghost over your neck. his nails graze your skin and a sly smirk forms on his face. "aren't you frightened? it'd be all too easy to kill a little thing like you."

"but you won't."

he can't tell if your assuredness pisses him off, but it certainly makes his heart rate pick up. his hand now occupies the space where your neck meets your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. "what has you so convinced?"

"well you saved me, didn't you? and.. and you kept your promise."

he hums in response and your hand seems to act of its own accord when it reaches up to rest atop his. any lingering sense of amusement is gone in an instant, the air now fraught with tension.

"so why are you here, sukuna?" you murmur.

the king of curses has never known goodness. he's wrought untold destruction and misery, his name inspiring fear even after millenia. he's a legend— a god, even— yet here you are staring up at him and he swears the look in your eyes is almost tender.

"i don't know."

"and you had the nerve to call me an awful liar."

you know you're taking a risk when you lean up and press your lips to his. he freezes for a moment before his mouth begins to move against yours tentatively. his arm stays at his side, so you grab his hand, moving it to your waist.

it's as if that flips a switch in sukuna. he backs you up against the wall somewhat roughly and you can feel him smile against your lips when you let out a squeak of surprise.

he uses the opportunity to take your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it before moving to your neck with the intention of leaving a trail of marks across your delicate flesh.

you know you should care, but you just can't bring yourself to tell him to stop. you're too preoccupied with the feeling. he revels in the little gasps he's pulling from your throat, in the way you grab weakly at his biceps.

"you are divine, kitten," he growls. "been waiting so long to touch you."

just as he finishes speaking, he pulls back a few inches and his body stiffens.

"damn it. not now, you stupid brat—"

the words die in his throat as the black lines begin to fade and you're met with the perplexed face of your boyfriend. he breaths out your name, clearly worried. "what.. what happened?"

[kon-yui]

Blood vessels like snow

[fingolfinwiththesteelchair]

It is a beautiful day, and you are a horrible research transport vessel. Things are progressing as normal (i.e. it's boring) when a SecUnit pings you, lies right to your metaphorical face, and then tries to bribe you with human media to give it a ride. This is as unexpected as it is unprecedented, and the sheer nerve of it is really to be admired. There's no protocol to this, so what should you do?

Now, this is against a bunch of rules, and could be dangerous if you weren't so impressive and incredible, and you're technically an employee (and can probably rewrite the Univeristy charter at will (until someone notices and puts it back)) so those rules are for other entities.

So, what you should do is allow the rogue SecUnit with a broken governor module and a sketchy story aboard. If you check the files it dumps and find zero (0) malware (which is confusing), and it doesn't even try to trash the place or lay in wait to ambush a crew member, then you've got a good candidate!

Next, what you're going to want to do is absolutely nothing. Just watch it patrol your halls until it's time to leave. Continue staring at it while you're undergoing embarkment procedures. Maybe analyze it a little (you've got plenty of processing power to spare) when it finally sits down and starts watching media. Allow it to settle in and get comfortable while you stare at it and get further and further from port.

Now that you two are alone (intimacy is key!) and you've determined that watching media is all the SecUnit is going to do, it's time to make contact! Make sure to open by telling it it's only survived due to dumb luck, and letting it know you could melt its brain into putty. This starter will work to develop conversation naturally and smoothly, just like you've seen the humans do, and it will be smooth sailing from there!

This has been Perihelion's guide to making friends/finding life partners/fuck off Holism I had to work hard for this find your own

[stormyrainyday]

more stp screenshots regarding the general sentiment of identity and reality and our relationship to it

apologies this is far from a coherent shower thought but i think it's time we like. decided to detach our identity a bit from the things we do. it's fine to just read. you don't have to be a reader. it's fine to just game. you don't have to be a gamer. you can be those things but i feel like in a quest to find ourselves and open our hearts, especially to others online (because i know, the first thing we do when on a new platform is say hi im [name] i like these things we should talk, i know, i do, my pinned post is literally that), i feel like we forget that we are more than the things we do and even the things we love. we, to borrow words from slay the princess, contain it in our multitudes.

it's a sentiment i've felt for a long time as someone who has been on the internet and in fandom spaces for a good decade now, and like. i find when we hold these things so close that they become us, we become too defensive over them. how many minor fandom disagreements spiral into threats, name calling, doxxing even? i find, especially younger users in fan spaces, tend to take even small differences of opinion and take them personally. saw someone blow up and call people awful names over believing only one person could top in a genshin ship. another left a server i was in because they disliked a popular character, and other (respectfully), decided to share why they did like her. i get that things like rejection sensitivity are a thing, but i think this failure to recognize the self as an entity apart from the things you do and the thoughts you have definitely contribute to this. phenomenon i suppose.

it's genuinely slay the princess that has given me the vocabulary to express and understand this thing i was already thinking. i think, though we are not gods, it's important to understand that we are not things so easily defined. we consist of our thoughts, our actions, our perceptions, our beliefs, and more. even the outside world's perception of us reflects some part of our nature. but not all of it. it's impossible to define oneself in one, two, three words or even an essay.

because like we don't exist in a vacuum. part of our existence is defined in our interactions with others. but not all. never all. there is no one who can truly know you, and we cannot truly know ourselves. our principles bend to the whims of circumstance no matter what we tell ourselves otherwise, so we can't decide what we are or what we would be in a situation for sure, ever. and that's not a bad thing, but if we can't ever truly know ourselves, then how can we assign such great importance to something as superficial as the things we enjoy sometimes?

we are both a constant and the capacity to change. and to take just a handful of things and call it your identity, even subconsciously, is a disservice to the self. in an effort to be seen we break ourselves down into easy (i hate to say it but) marketable pieces.

take being a reader for example. it has always felt like vague slang for booksmart, thoughtful, likely quiet and introverted as well, just as much as it means "i like to read books". theres an aesthetic to it involved, and a whole subculture. do you write in your books? do you keep them museum-fresh quality? do you read smut or classics or high fantasy or satire and what does it say about you? if you say audiobooks aren't real literature, are you signalling to others about quality and sophistication, or are you a pretentious asshole, and ableist to boot? these connotations assigned to such an otherwise benign thing about someone are i think are reflective of the construct of identity and perception. i could go on about it in a way that's more coherent but i, a student, have other things to do right now.

(does being a student make me intelligent? does it impress you to know i study medicine? what if i told you i average Cs in my classes? what if i told you i dislike patient care? what if i told you i'm not here for the money OR to make the world a better place, and that i'm here purely to serve my curiosities about the way the body functions and to absolve my obsessive need to understand just what are we? does this change what you think of me? does it matter? what if you knew the guilt i felt for seeing so much suffering, but still hating patient care enough to worry endlessly about being stuck in it as a career? am i better for it? but i have not acted on this guilt. it is a mere feeling that only i know. knew. is it different now that i've confessed it? does it matter? does any of it change who i am, fundamentally? or am i a thing detached from it all? or. as i like to believe. is it both? your shifting perceptions of me and the way i change shape and form (so much like our beloved princess in slay the princess) in your eyes, they make up me just as much as the soul or the self or whatever other philosophical name you assign to it. at the end of the day, isn't the most important thing that i am just me? both devoid of and constituted of the sum of my parts? what is found in the spaces between my cells? impulses and chemicals. is that me? is it all me? can i ever really know it? and why, why, why define it at all?)