#CLAP

[not-another-robin]

Alright everyone clap for my wife

[minmos]

[deebrisbyfish]

This strip was actually somewhat difficult to draw. Ironically, putting this moment down as honestly as possible did trigger a smidge of my imposter syndrome. It felt like bragging, but I literally checked with MULTIPLE people who had been in the room, and while I didn't win, my name got an audible and excited pop when said. A few folks described it as if I had won the wet T-Shirt contest of the night. lol In that moment, all of the anxiety of the months leading up to all of this just... evaporated. Like the world's biggest sign, it just vanished from my stomach, and I felt amazing. Not winning did absolutely nothing to alter my elation in that moment and, as of writing this post 2 and a half weeks later, it honestly HASN'T really left yet.

[lovebeatriceplz]

Marcid - (adj): withered, incredibly exhausted

Geto x Gn! Reader. Tw! Intrusive thoughts, mention of taking one's life. Comfort/ angst. A short drabble

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. The ticking of the clock and his heartbeat move in sync. Sleep, it's all he wants at the moment but it doesn't come, he doesn't allow it to. Tick. Tick. His heart slows down when he dozes off, so much so that at times he feels like it may stop, so he stays awake.

The hard marble floor steals his warmth, but he can't bring himself to move. A gentle tap on his shoulder pulls him back "Suguru". He knows it's you but he looks anyway. He's a total mess, but it's not the tied up hair and the dark circles on his face that alarm you. It's the look in his eyes. Dread, anguish and something else, you almost wish that they were empty instead. Wishing that he was numb instead of feeling so deeply.

He quickly averts his gaze before you could analyse him further. "Aren't you going to bed?" You spoke softly, yet the words sounded loud in the otherwise empty room. "Huh- oh, right" he sounds so unsure, you're not convinced that he even heard what you said. Everyone else had headed back to the dorms, even Gojo. You did too, that's what he guesses judging by your sleep attire. That also means that you came back just for him.

"I'll be there...in a minute". Not wanting to leave him alone, you take a seat beside him, shoulders and thighs touching, sharing some of your warmth. It made the throbbing in his bones a little less painful. "It's finally the weekend, we can just sleep all day" you say in a light tone after some beats of silence. The promise of a break is supposed to make him feel better, but it doesn't because it isn't true. They'll spend their weekend exorcising curses. He's so sick of it.

His gaze is fixed on an invisible force in front of him. "If by sleeping you mean battling demons" he mumbles dryly. Demons that didn't even belong to us. You let out an amused huff, stretching your limbs and resting against the wall "well someone's gotta do it no?". Did you even realize what you were saying? That vile, churning feeling starts to bubble up in his stomach again. He glares at you through his peripheral silently. He couldn't even get mad, just look at who he was speaking to. You've made the sacrifices, took punches and lost sleep to do your work, time and time again he's watched you throw so much away. And for what? for the sake of those.... non - sorcerers.

"Those bastards don' t deserve us" it's a quiet, muttered statement, but it slipped out anyways. "Geto!" Of course he wasn't okay you knew that, but it never crossed your mind once that resentment might be what's killing him slowly. "I just- what if we burn out?" he shifts to face you completely, grabbing your arm "hm?".

The words you want to say stick to your throat like bread. "What are you saying? we don't get to burn out-". The physical reaction he has stops you immediately, and he lets go of your arm, not meeting your eyes. "I-" you sigh quietly, the previously comfortable silence became heavy. You place a hand over one of his resting on the ground, running your fingers over his knuckles, his heart lurches. "Is that what's been bothering you, Suguru? is it getting too much?".

He shakes his head. "I don't want this, i can't do it anymore". When he makes eye contact again, he's met with understanding and affection, one that makes him feel safe, like he could tell you anything, he can. Your other hand moves to his face, finger pads running along his jaw. Suddenly everything for Geto is too much, the clock was too loud, the floor too cold, his skin too hot. When your hand shifts and you have your palm against his face instead, his lips press to the delicate skin of your wrist. His hand placed on the ground allows you to thread your fingers together, and that's how it is for a while. If it was up to him, he'd stay like that for the rest of the night.

You suck in a sharp breath "you should get some rest" you whisper. He doesn't reply. He wanted you, so bad that it was awful. These thoughts, they hit him out of nowhere some days. Violent, nefarious thoughts that cause him to lose his dinner. However, they always get quiet when you're around, when you laugh or keep him company. You reduce his monsters to mere pests that he can manage for a while. It almost makes him feel like you can fix him. Almost.

"Come with me?" He murmurs into your skin, eyes still shut. You look up "to your room?" That wasn't a good idea, but the night was freezing, you're tired and his thoughts are deafening. Without giving an indication or reply, Suguru simply rises, hand still hooked unto yours. "just come with me" he murmurs again, heading to his room and taking you with him.

Tangled limbs, and gentle caresses. His shirt is discarded and replaced by your touch, his hands slip under your clothes, but that's as far as it goes. When that dark place starts to claw at his feet once more, he presses kisses all over you. His lips connect with your neck, your nose, the corner of your mouth, focusing on how tender you feel. He only stops when he catches a glimpse of how you're looking at him. "What?" he breathes out, oh how he wanted to kiss the crinkle in between your brow and watch it disappear, he wanted to kiss all your worries away. "I feel like i'm losing you" you say quietly.

His face twists into a grimace, and he rolls off of you, laying on his back and running a hand over his face. He felt like he was losing himself, too, but he couldn't say that. He's so tired, it's kind of tired that sleep won't cure. He has thought about running away, leaving everything behind, leaving you behind. To make the thought even more unlike him, he's accepted the fact that he might have to kill to live the way he wants to, lives would have to be lost, and sometimes he feels like he's willing to make that sacrifice. To make that sacrifice for all of them.

You turn. Getting on top of him this time. Your fingers find and undo the clips keeping his hair together, untangling his unkempt locks. He chases after your touch, wanting to feel more of the things only you could make him feel. His mind wanders once more. There's always the other option, the one he's been trying to avoid. Going to sleep, maybe the next time his heart starts to slow down he'll let it, maybe he'll speed up the process, rip it out of his chest and squeeze it until it stops beating, until he stops living. But then what? He'd get away, and you'd be left here, heartbroken, a part of him hopes. But unhappy, and nothing would change, it had to change, he was going to change it.

The feeling of your fingers against his lips pulls him back, and he looks at you with a half lidded gaze. "Hey, we'll be alright" you say quietly, the words sounding loud in the otherwise empty room. Liar. He doesn't say it. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "Oh you're wrong, you're so perfect...but you're so wrong" his tone is breathless, like it's painful to speak. You brush away his tears, and you lean down to capture his lips with yours.

A strangled, choked up sound slips out of his mouth, and he pulls you close, fingers exploring the expanse of your back. The kiss is slow, and the most softness he's allowed himself to indulge in, in a while. You were kissing his worries away, if you tried hard enough you could scrape together his broken pieces, and place them back into the order he's lost.

You can't fix him entirely, though, and he hates himself for it. But for now you can ground him, prevent him from losing his mind and losing even more of himself. That night, the lines between friendship and something more intimate are blurred. And no matter what you call yourselves after this, you have each other.

Habromania - (noun): delusions of happiness

[blondebrainpowered]

GIF by BoomUnderground

That Girl, 1966 - 1971

[giantmonster]

[vintage-tigre]

[mairamacri]

Tumblr de cara nova | 2024 lindão!

Estou refazendo muitos dos meus textos em forma de imagens, colagens etc.

Espero que apreciem o>

MM.

[veryheartbarbarian]

reference under cut

[kaylees-art]

Wtf gay little San Francisco pony

[derniere-seance]

Greta Garbo, Frederic March, and director Clarence Brown on the set of Anna Karenina, 1935.

[giffypudding]

Batman's sarcastic claps

[blondebrainpowered]

Batman, 1966 - 1968

[adam-trademark]

NO CONTEST

(August 21, 2024)