#weeping crying screaming etc

[corrose]

Hm. I hate my new glasses.

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

when i catch myself getting a wee bit too silly about Monty i remember he is THIS most of the time and then i shut up pretty quick

[funfactory]

[bookwyrminspiration]

“Because I was one of them” THROW! ME! OFF! A! CLIFF!!!

[wooftphr]

just finished chapter 2 and i was smiling almost the whole time. love love love the chemistry between franziska and maya. im considering drawing fanart honestly!! dont get ur hopes up tho i cant for the life of me draw horses

oh thats so real but omg im so glad u like it 🥺🥺🥺🥺 i LOVVEVEE writing both fran and maya in this au bc they are a bit older and dont have all the pressures that come with Murder Related Jobs. they are allowed to be gay always and forever 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🎉

[octobersunkiss]

i had sm fun!!!!!!!

[enteragoodnamehere]

me feeling the aromanticness leave my body as I listen to Becoming the Lastnames by Will Wood

[moving-to-dreamwinged]

just watched the SADDEST video EVER WHAT THE HELL??????? i’m going to throw up bro

[seokmatthewz]

like u dont GET IT 

[anonprotagging]

hmm..... today I think I will weep and wail 🤔🤔🤔

[corrose]

Nothing quite like picking up an old skill anticipating that you still have some competency at it and immediately finding out: nope! You are suckass mcgee!!

[cachantun]

we never change, do we?

[redd956]

ideas for newly rescued living weapon whumpees?

>:D Of course

Newly Rescued Living Weapon Prompts

Caretaker failed to notice that Weapon woke from their drugging. It wasn't until they were being held against the wall by their throat that they did.

Two newly rescued living weapons are proving to be dangers to each other. Caretaker isn't strong enough to break them up shit hits the fan.

A muzzled Weapon won't allow Caretaker to remove their constraints, citing that they promise they'll be a danger.

Caretaker removes the heavy armor Weapon always wore, unveiling thickened scars lashed across their back.

Living Weapon accidentally draws Caretaker's blood. Before Caretaker can even convince them that an accident is simply that, Living Weapon takes their leave.

Screams and hollered commands woke Caretaker from a deep sleep. They immediately knew who it was coming from.

Weapon doesn't cry, peep, or really do anything as Caretaker tends to them. Caretaker is worried that in their poor healthy they're going to fall dead on them without saying a word about it.

Caretaker acted gently, tightening weapon's bandages, asking them if it hurts, cleaning old wounds. They were shocked at the tears that Weapon started to weep in silence.

Whumpee doesn't understand what's fully going on. They've assumed themselves as caretaker's new weapon, guarding them wherever they go. They're even starting to get aggressively protective.

Weapon's dangerous features (fangs, sharp tail, claws, robotic attachments, etc.) need some TLC too. Caretaker has to put their entire trust in Whumpee to help them, as in such a position Whumpee could easily finish Caretaker off.

Weapon only eats, drinks, and sleeps to specific commands. Caretaker either has to get things forcefully into Whumpee's system, or figure out these commands before it's too late. Weapon is growing thin.

Caretaker traces their fingers over all the scars Weapon has accumulated. These can't be from battles.

[romaritimeharbor]

FAMILY LINE. — In which Venti aids a lost little one.

— trigger & content warnings. draff is a shitty parent, child neglect, alcohol and referenced alcoholism, parentified reader, etc.

— pairings & notes. hurt/comfort. venti & child!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). reader is diona's biological older sibling and therefore has cat-like features. 2.5k words.

— author's thoughts. (about draff) oh BROTHER this guy STINKS!!!!!!!!!!! i fucking hate draff, this is a draff hater household <3

       Sharply cold droplets of rain battered their skin as they stumbled blindly through the woods.

       It was normally quite the easy feat for them to see clearly at night, but the water clinging to their lashes made it significantly more challenging; they had to squint to even have a chance of seeing at all, and they were constantly blinking away the wetness. It was no easier for them to hear or smell—the sound of the rain and rolling thunder overwhelmed their sensitive ears (that were now pinned firmly against their head in some feeble attempt at muffling the sounds) and the earthy scent of dirt and grass drowned out any potential indicators of where they were. Despite having such heightened senses, they were so easily rendered helpless. It didn't help that they were sure it was already late into the night—yes, the rain contributed to the darkness, but it was irregularly so. It had to be the middle of the night, or close to it.

       Cold, wet, tired, and lost in the woods behind Springvale with all of their senses hopelessly stifled...

       Dread crept into their chest. A whimper threatened to slip through their lips, but they swallowed it down and pushed onward. As gratifying as it would probably be to do so, caving in on themselves and crying like the lost child that they were would be completely and truly useless; weeping would not help them get home. It would not make the rain stop, and it would not make their senses grow strong enough to help them navigate through the rain. They had no choice other than to continue moving forward.

       The wind howled violently, whipping cruelly at whatever flesh was exposed and even at that which was not, since the rain had dampened their clothes so severely that the fabric clung impossibly tightly to their skin, therefore offering little to no protection against the brutality of the wind. They squeezed their eyes shut as they pushed against it.

       "Ah—!"

       A frightened gasp was snatched from their chest as their foot was caught by an exposed root, causing them to tumble forwards and downwards.

       They didn't scream, though perhaps that could be attributed to their utterly paralyzing terror, or perhaps they recognized that the sound would only be completely and utterly swallowed by the raging storm. Trembling arms shot outwards in a panicked attempt to brace their fall down the hill, and...

       And they were fine—save for a few scrapes on their palms—caught in a stranger's arms (or what they assumed had been a stranger's arms) before they could hit the foot of the hill and potentially break something.

       "My, little one"—his nimble hands moved to help them stand up straight, and their eyes flicked to his face, panicked and disoriented expression shifting into one of reassured recognition—"playing in a storm this fierce? I admire your courage!"

       Venti, the passionate and enthusiastic bard that they sometimes encountered in Mondstadt City while running menial household errands that their father neglected to. If he wasn't busy performing, harassing Diluc, or doing who knew what, he was trailing after them, which they couldn't honestly say they minded. It was nice to have someone actively looking after them while they were in the city.

       (Though, they really could not help but wonder what he was doing out in such a storm, at such a late hour, but then again... he was an enigma—most of Mondstadt's population knew that, and so did they. Therefore, they did not ask.)

       Precise eyes shifted from his swirling green and blue gaze, riddled with something they couldn't quite discern, to the city gates. Oh. So that was where they ended up, then—a short distance from the bridge that crossed the lake, leading to the city's gates. Now that they knew where they were, they couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of embarrassment.

       "I wasn't playing, Venti," they murmured. The winds were calmer in his presence, no longer howling and whipping against their shivering body but instead swirling around them gently. "I was hunting, but it started raining, so..."

       "So you couldn't find your way home?"

       "Yeah."

       "I see," he mused, but sniffled before he could continue. They were quick to attempt to take a step back, squeaking out a sudden 'Sorry,' as if his allergy had only just occurred to them. There was no doubt in their mind that the rain was probably only making it worse, spreading whatever it was in their fur that Venti was allergic to even further than the air on its own normally would.

       They did not manage to get far, however. With a swiftness that could perhaps be attributed to his Anemo vision, he swept his cape off of his shoulders and draped it over their head. Over the scent of the rain, they could now catch a vague hint of fruit and flowers. Apples and cecilias, if they had to make a guess, since their senses were still muddled and largely overwhelmed by the scent of dirt.

       He turned away, sneezing into his arm.

       "But my fur will get all over it..." Their protest was weak at best as their little fingers clasped around the edges of the fabric, pulling it closer to their body. A chill had sunken into their bones quite a while ago, perpetuated by the wind blowing against the continuous rain pelting their skin, so the warmth that being wrapped in his cape provided was more than welcomed.

       "Worry not," the bard said with a smile. "A little fur won't hurt me... too bad, that is. Shall I walk you home, then?"

       They could get home on their own. Since they had emerged from the forest near one of the commonly-traversed paths to Springvale, they knew that they could easily find their way home without getting lost a second time.

       "Okay."

       ...But Venti's presence was warmly comforting, and they did not want to be alone again with only the rumbling thunder and distant flashes of lightning for company. He probably would have walked them back, anyway, regardless of if they insisted on being able to do it themselves.

       He held out a hand for them. It was more of an offer than a requirement, but they were nonetheless happy to place their hand in his while the other maintained its hold on his cape.

       It was then that the walk back to the little village a short ways away from the city began.

       His fingertips were thoroughly calloused; they supposed that was the impact of years of archery and lyre playing. It wasn't something they were bothered by, nor was it something they were unfamiliar with—being born into a bloodline of renowned hunters made it so that their hands were not exactly soft, either. Somehow, though, the rougher nature of his hands was comforting. Fleetingly, they mused to themselves that it was quite similar to how their father's hands felt.

       The walk was largely silent, save for the rain and thunder that had faded into the background and the gentle hum that originated from their companion. It made their ears stand upwards attentively. They did not recognize that particular song, and they had attended many—but not all—of his performances. It was completely possible that they had simply missed the time that he sang it. Either that, or...

       "Have you performed that song before?"

       "Nope!" the bard chimed, suddenly raising their conjoined hands and twirling them; they squeaked in surprise at first, but then giggled and joyously obliged him. Whatever unease that managed to nudge its way into their soul and settle there had almost entirely dissipated by then. "Do you like it?"

       "Uh-huh. It sounds pretty."

       "Well, in that case, I'll have to be sure to perform it the next time you're in Mondstadt City!" He paused, then added on, "Free of charge for my littlest fan, of course."

       They pouted, absentmindedly swinging his hand in theirs back and forth. "I'm not little. I can take care of myself, y'know... and I'll bring you an apple, anyway, even if I don't have to."

       Amusement danced in his eyes at their annoyance. "Oh? I'll think of it as a gift from you, then, little one."

       "I'm not little!"

       "Sure~"

             — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       It took less than half an hour to reach their hometown. With Venti at their side, the time felt exceptionally short.

       (A vague sense of sadness invaded their mind at the thought of having to part from him and return to their household. They knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what would await them, and they were not looking forward to have to care for a blackout drunk grown man again.)

       "We're here," the bard announced, freeing their hand from his hold. He watched as they hesitantly approached their front door. Something knowing brewed in the light tones of his voice as he said, "Take care of yourself, little one."

       "I will— oh!" they gasped, realizing that they had not given his cape back. As they gingerly unwrapped themselves from it, they turned back. "Wait, Venti—"

       ...He was already gone. It was like he had vanished into the wind, gone just as fast and suddenly as he seemed to arrive earlier. 

       "Oh."

       Well, they supposed they would give it to him the next time they had to run into the city for household supplies. At least his spontaneous disappearance gave them time to clean it up; it was the polite thing to do, they thought, as they turned back to their front door.

       A soft breath was sucked in through their nose as they turned the handle, entering quietly.

       Unlocked. Of course it was. Their father had probably forgotten to lock it—they would not, however. After closing the door behind themselves, they quickly turned the locks, before facing the living space. Their ears twitched, picking up the sound of snoring.

       Ah. Their father was sprawled on the couch, his own ears twitching absently in his sleep.

       They'd check on him in a moment—their first concern was where their little sister was.

       With swift and silent steps, they padded across the room, down a hallway, and up a set of stairs. A breath that they were not aware they were holding was released; talking to their father when he had been drinking was... largely unpleasant, if for no other reason than his drawling, slurred tone that grated their nerves. He wasn't particularly mean or nasty, but something about talking to him when he was so incapacitated lit their nerves on fire with poorly-contained anger.

       A soft creak resonated through the hall as they opened their sister's door.

       A sleepy mumble caught their attention. "[Name]..?"

       They smiled.

       Gingerly treading over to the small bed pushed into a corner, they whispered, "Shh. Hi, Diona~"

       She blearily blinked up at them, yawning a wide yawn that exposed her little fangs. Her hands, balled into tiny fists, tried to rub away at the sleep in her eyes to little avail.

       "Did you eat?" they asked quietly, stroking her pink hair soothingly, as if to lull her back to sleep. A quiet, barely audible purr rose from her throat.

       "Mm-hm. Fruit."

       "Just fruit?"

       "Yeah. The ones you picked earlier," she mumbled. "They were really good."

       "Are you still hungry?" She shook her head, and they hummed. "Okay. I'll make you fish in the morning, then... go back to sleep for now. I'm home now, so if you need anything, come get me."

       She nodded, stretching briefly before curling back up. They took that as their sign to go back downstairs, leaving her door cracked open the smallest bit as they did. They tip-toed their way to the kitchen and rifled through the cabinets until they found what they were looking for, face lighting up triumphantly when they did—a bottle of painkillers, courtesy of Albedo, who was reluctant to give them to such a young child at first, but ultimately handed them over when they explained that the medicine was not for them.

       After filling a cup with water and placing a few pieces of bread on a plate, they made their way back to the living room, where their father was resting. 

       (Bread was good for... something, wasn't it? They weren't entirely sure. Even if it wasn't, they really didn't feel like making anything more elaborate; they were still wet, cold, and tired. It wasn't even their job to take care of him, so if it wasn't sufficient, then /he/ would have to do something about it. That was never meant to be their job.)

       As quietly as they could manage, they set the items down on the coffee table.

       Thankfully, he did not so much as stir.

       They hurried back upstairs to run a warm bath for themselves.

             — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       It was a few days later that Venti caught wind of their return to Mondstadt City.

       After exchanging pleasantries with Blanche, they bought a few things that were far more difficult to produce at home, things that had longer and more painstaking processes behind their production—salt, pepper, cheese... all of their items were tucked neatly in a little basket they'd taken from home, alongside an apple they had picked on their way to the city. Venti's cape was draped over their arm.

       ...They were a little worried that a few strands of their fur would still cling to it, despite how many times they hand-washed it with care and attention.

       He said it was okay, so they truly hoped it was.

       With a polite wave to Blanche, they turned on their heel and walked past Sara's shop towards the stairs leading to the city's second level.

       The slow churning of windmills overhead, the chatter of other citizens, and the joyful laughs of children younger than them running around and causing innocent-intentioned mischief...

       Mondstadt City indeed felt freer than their home. If they could spend every day here, away from home, they're certain that they would. The air did not threaten to suffocate them here, and their nerves did not light up in flames at every annoyance that crossed their path so long as they did not run into any of Mondstadt's notorious drunkards. 

       Treading up so many stairs to reach the Barbatos statue in front of the Cathedral did not feel like such a dreadful task when the wind was so lively and soft against their skin, much unlike the way it was on that stormy night a few days prior.

       A tune they faintly recognized only encouraged them even further, and their swift, tiny body flew up what remained of the stairs just to reach the source in time. They scurried over to the base of the statue to join the crowd that had formed around a familiar bard, missing his cape. His eyes seemed to brighten when he spotted them, and they grinned.

       Listening to the performance he had promised them, cape draped over their one arm and basket full of various items in the other, they felt content.

       Yes, they would later have to return to their household, burdened by their father's poor habits...

       ...But for now, they were happy and free, if only for a short time.

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[sabo-torao]

Small disclaimer before you head in: this whole post will be referencing the TCB translation. I know VIZ handled the exchange I'm discussing differently, but I couldn't find anyone who talked about the original version and as a result I don't really know who is closer to the original meaning. In any case, the "analysis" should still stand. Whether Dragon was commenting Sabo's firmness or admiring his resolution, Sabo's still putting on a mask, and that's the point I'm trying to break down. Enjoy!

This very specific interaction between Dragon and Sabo in chapter 1083 has always stuck out to me.

"My, you really are unshakeable."

which is an appropriate response to what Sabo said, of course. What kind of sensitive person reacts that way to the death of an innocent, right?

Even so, I can't help but compare the thing Sabo said to his actual, genuine reaction to King Kobra's death.

He's devastated.

Sabo brokenly screams Kobra's name, and his expression is one of full despair; he never thought about killing Kobra, let alone letting him die. On the contrary, he actively tried to save him.

Kobra told him to just let him go, that he was dead weight and he shouldn't be concerned about him, but Sabo straight up refused. In fact, Kobra's actions read way more as a sacrifice than an inevitable death; the king let himself die, knowing that this way Sabo could flee and reach Vivi and Luffy safely.

On the Lulusian ship, we see Sabo think about Kobra's last words to him and actively trying not to cry (and failing).

That's not an unshakable man. He's suffering, he's grieving. He realizes he failed his very own mission of saving the king and lets the meaning behind Kobra's actions and words sink in.

It really puts his former reaction into perspective.

Sabo's firmness, seriousness and coldness in front of Dragon and Ivankov are nothing but a façade. He acknowledges that what he's about to say might come off as harsh, and that, even if he does feel sorry for Kobra, the tragedy doesn't weigh him down thanks to the results it brought, but it all sounds like he's reassuring himself more than actually showing his indifference.

Hell, he even drinks his glass of wine right after having said that "he doesn't really care". How can anyone take his words seriously?

And we've been knowing Sabo is inclined to do this sort of thing since Dressrosa; he acted all cool and composed in front of Luffy but the second Koala called him on the Den Den Mushi he was weeping, having a hard time believing that his little brother didn't punch him or hate him for being alive all along. He even denied he was crying!

All because Sabo hates being seen as vulnerable, especially in front of the people he thinks he has to be strong for (Luffy, Dragon, etc). It's something I think goes back to how his parents treated him, since they scolded him for, y'know, having emotions and being a normal kid in need of love, but i digress.

I once saw someone describing Sabo as a very cold person in comparison to his brothers, even going as far as to say that Sabo doesn't care if people die if it means achieving the Revolutionary Army's goals (using this very interaction as proof), which couldn't be further away from the truth.

Bonney even says outright that it's weird seeing a "radical revolutionary" act so friendly when Sabo helps her out. Why would he do this if all he ever did was for "The Cause"?

Yes, Sabo is ruthless, rude, violent at times, and his friendly demeanor could be seen as a little more volatile than that of his brothers', but he's not heartless. He's not a "meanings to an end" guy, he proves it time and time and time again, and it's disheartening seeing people label him as such.

Sabo is kind. He may not be as warm as Ace and Luffy, but he is fundamentally a good person. A generous, kind, caring, sensitive person.

No matter how hard he tries to hide it.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Submissive! König Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Consensual Non-Con/Dub-Con, Pegging, Edging, Teasing, Overstimulation, Gagging, Riding, Praise Kink (receiving), Slight Bondage, Cock Ring, Mention of Blood, Mild Painplay, Dirty Talk, Petnames, Submissive König, Dominant Reader, Mentions of Pain, Crying, No Pronouns used for Reader Except 'You', Profanity, etc.

Submissive König lives for your praise.

When you ride him, he goes absolutely feral, completely at your mercy.

When you sink down on him, he throws his head back into the pillows and moans.

He's a moaner - a loud one at that.

If you slap your hand over his mouth and tell him to "Be a good boy, be quiet for me,"--

He's nutting. Immediately.

He's secretly a massive fan of teasing and edging.

Though, when you carry on to the point that his cock is aching and red and weeping, he'll desperately slam his hips up into you, trying to get some sort of friction - release.

Man's fast af, and he's got a lot of stamina. He can go for hours.

Definitely a quick finisher, though if you demand ask him to hold out for you, he'll try his best.

And if he doesn't...well, he gets extremely whiny.

You overstimulate him , punish him to the point he's crying and sobbing, begging you to stop keep going.

And that's just when you're sucking him dry; if you're feeling particularly cruel, you'll usually wear a long, thick strap-on.

"You're not walking for the next week since you're being such a brat," you say, gripping his hair by the roots and lifting his head so he can hear the venom in your voice.

There's nothing he can do except take an absolute pounding from you, moaning your name into the pillows while his hands are cuffed to the bedposts.

All the while, you're calling him your "Good boy," praising him.

"You're taking me so well, Köni. Making it real easy for me to slip inside your tight little hole."

He'll beg you to stop, plead with you to pull out because he can't take any more, but you ignore him, stretching him out on the thick base of your strap-on.

"You should've thought about this before acting the way you did," you hiss. "I'm not gonna stop until you bleed."

If you feel that he's misbehaved in a way that's invoked your unrelenting discipline, you'll put on this one strap-on that makes König's face break out into fear like a rash.

It's long and fat enough that you can see it bulging in König's stomach when you're fucking him, reducing him to a whimpering, sobbing shell of a man.

Whenever he can tell you're going to break it out, he tries to talk you out of it, tries being democratic and barter with you, but your mind's made up.

By the time you're satisfied, he's passed out, breathing heavily, coated in sweat and cum and completely dead to the world.

You also enjoy using a cock ring on him to make sure he gets absolutely no release, not if he's undeserving of it.

You can practically see the base of his cock swell whenever he's close, ready to burst like a pipe.

But you don't let him cum. Not until you say so.

Gag him. Oh my god, GAG HIM.

König gets off on being completely helpless when he's with you, so if you make sure he can't talk or make a sound, his eyes will be rolling into the back of his head.

"You can try to scream and cry as much as you like; nobody's coming to save you."

But be gentle with him during aftercare :-(; he's very fragile after sex and he just wants you to praise him and tell him he did well.

Bathe with him, stroke his hair, press kisses to his temples and his face will just light up like ☺️.

He feels loved and accepted when he can be his true, genuine self with you, different from the other König he becomes on the battlefield.

And it's the thought of you that keeps him going every day, regardless of how grueling or death-defying the mission is.

He's your "Big guy," your "Teddy bear," and nothing will ever take that away from him.

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