#i can't stop mentally ill

[inkskinned]

maybe i'm a bitch but if i hear you go out of your way to judge someone's weight, i immediately lose trust in you & will probably forever find you a little unbearable . yes also the little floating bar over my head will start reading [hostile]. this is natural and u caused it.

[bakugoushotwife]

hiii!!! i rlly enjoy your writing 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

oml ok idk how requests work but like, can i request sum for gojo? like sum smutty ;)

maybe something like make up sex ;))) honestly you have like sm freedom writing it because i jus need some make up sex w gojo 😩😩

tysmmm!! hope you’re having a great night

a/n: yeah we need to kiss for this one bestie !! no but i love what this turned into, i was stumped over what to make them fight about so luckily the beautiful @getosbigballsack saved the DAY! <3 i love u babies!! gojo looked so scrumptious in the episode i literally have not stopped thinking about him so please take this brain rot and enjoy it

summary: you've gone and spent your allowance too soon, and now your husband is home to deal with it.

cw: y'all-- uh established relationship, gojo, he's kinda mean at times ngl, spanking, dacryphilia, oral (m receiving) facefucking, cowgirl, , pet names, daddy kink, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, they are married i swear

wc: 3746 unedited

Allowance // Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

“Hi baby! Welcome home!” You sing happily, getting up from the dining room table to meet your husband at the door as he enters. You smooth down the ruffles of your new dress, excited to show off what you bought with him in mind. When you round the corner, you come face-to-face with a less than excited Satoru Gojo. 

You stop in your tracks, his glare was intense and you knew that meant only one thing: you’re in trouble. He continues to stare at you silently, setting his keys down on the table with a loud clunk. He slipped out of his shoes, all while his icy gaze narrowed in your direction. 

“What did you do today?” He asks knowingly, giving you one chance to answer truthfully before he enacted his punishment. 

You start to wring your hands. You knew what this was about of course, but you had hoped to get yourself off the hook. You turn on your best pout, blinking up at him with your perfected sad puppy eyes, your long lashes only making your pout prettier. “Awh, ‘Toru,  listen–” You try sweetly, to no avail. 

“Ah, ah. Answer me.” He interrupts, to which you promptly shut your mouth. You brought this on yourself, you really did. You avert your gaze as he sits in his chair in the living room. The cushioned seat around him made him look like a King on his throne, staring down at his Queen forebodingly. Even his posture is intimidating; his arms folded over his chest and long legs extended far in front of him, one foot tapping expectantly. 

 “Did you lose your voice?”  He asks, tilting his head to the side, taking in your appearance. You look angelic as always, and he knew that was a new dress. It fits you perfectly, he must admit, tight at your chest and waist and barely covering your ass. The color was striking against your skin. God, you made this difficult. He was glowering with anger, more aptly called sexual frustration and desire. He had all the intentions of punishing your behavior. You were both busy all week, making it the longest he’s gone without you aside from work related trips. In an effort to make up for his absences and tardies, he gave you your full allowance two days early. 

He really does enjoy spoiling you, giving you an insane amount of money every week just for you to spend on clothes and shoes. All your hair and nails and lashes and waxes were paid for, whatever you wanted, you got it. However, there were certain rules. His sweet little house-wife wanted for nothing, and he would have it no other way. But you have to show your gratitude, because of him you haven’t worked in years. You have to make your allowance last until your next one, just because he knew you were impulsive and couldn’t do that every time, no matter the amount he gave you. Your tastes grew more and more expensive with every deposit in your bank account, though most of it was spent on beautiful outfits and gorgeous lingerie that only he would consume. You blew it all this time in one day, a new record. 

You shake your head, eyes trained on the floor. “No, I didn’t..” 

“No, what?” He arches his brow, waiting. 

“No daddy.” You correct yourself, swaying from side to side in your pretty little dress, showing how the material flowed out around you. “ ‘M sorry daddy, really…jus wanted to get all pretty for you.” 

Your pout truly was magical, your sweet face trying to bail you out of your punishment. He watched the skirt move for a minute, eyes trailing down your exposed legs and onto the new Alexander McQueen heels hugging your feet. So that’s where most of your money went. Undeniably, the shoes were made for his princess, but that was besides the point right now. All prettied up you were indeed, and he would make good use of it. 

“You know the rules, baby girl.” He says sternly, even the use of one of his many pet names for you seemed harsh. He spread his legs a little more in front of him, waiting for you to behave. His stance and authoritative tone made your pussy throb immediately. You did feel bad for making him angry, but you knew you wouldn’t necessarily dislike your punishment either, in fact you were looking forward to it. 

You stepped toward him, heels clicking against the beautiful hardwood floors of the Gojo home. He offered one hand out to you, the other supporting his cheek as if he was growing bored from waiting. Your perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his slender ones and your cheeks start to warm, a knot growing in your stomach in anticipation. You step up onto the arm of his chair with your knees, getting your balance before laying across his lap, your elbows propped up on the other arm of the chair. He watched you with dilated pupils, all your effort to make him want you worked like a charm, as if you needed to do anything special in the first place. It had been a long week, followed by this stunt? You were definitely in for it this time. He hisses when he bunches the skirt of your dress in his fist, revealing a lacy and barely-there thong. 

You smirk to yourself now that he can’t see your face. You knew he liked it, you could feel his approval for the way you look poking into your stomach right now. You wiggle your ass for him, a soft giggle escaping your lips. That quickly turns to a gasp when his large hand smacks down on your skin, making your asscheek sting immediately. The surprise makes you jump forward a little bit, and he doesn’t hesitate to jerk you back. He gives an equally hard slap to your other cheek, and the pain is sweet. You like the way it burns paired with his satisfied grunts as he watches your recoil each time. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be counting?” He reminds, not much of a question at all. His typical grin is replaced by a dark smirk as he applies another spank to your backside. 

“Three.” You hum, wiggling in his lap inadvertently. He chuckles at the sight of you, shaking his head. You’ve only given him one option, to increase the rate and intensity. 

“What a bad girl I have. Disappointing daddy like this.” He clicks his tongue. You whip your head around at this, you weren’t a bad girl! You just wanted to dress up for him, you couldn’t help that the rules were gonna keep you from doing that! He’s pouting when you look at him, really putting on a show. The force of his slap makes you squeal this time, and you can almost feel the handprint branding in. 

“Nuh-uh!” You protest, heartbroken by his words. He keeps you from arguing it further with another harsh spank, burning the skin and making tears prickle your vision. 

“Yes-huh.” He mocks, another spank. “You can’t even count like you’re supposed to. Such a naughty thing. Makes me so sad.” He sighs, eyes glued to the darkening skin of your rear. He was in fact leaving handprints, and he loved the way it looked. 

“Six!” You call out to make up for the ones you’ve missed, your brain getting scrambled under the gorgeous pain and his mean speech. Your body was consumed in heat, your panties growing uncomfortable against your soaked middle. “Daddy, I swear ‘m sorry! I didn’t mean’ta disappoint you!” You pout, the last words coming off your tongue in horror. He doesn’t accept the apology, another smack rippling across your sore ass. “Seven!” Your chin wobbles.

“Go ahead and cry. Maybe if you cry for Daddy, I’ll forgive you.” He grins, hand coming down on you once more. “You’ll have to make it up to me, since you’re such a spoiled brat. Why would you ignore my rules unless you were a bad girl? This isn’t even a punishment for you, look how wet you are!” He teases, clicking his tongue as his fingers press against your clothed hole. You can hear the squelch of yourself, lewd and loud and the only sound other than his sadistic chuckles. “Tell me you like it, angel. Tell me the truth…” 

“Eight,” You whimper, writhing in his hold now. The pain was turning your vision white in the corners, but you still didn’t want him to stop. He was right, you were a bad girl for spending all your money in one day, you could have picked less expensive pieces, but you wanted to push Satoru to his limit. You sniffle, the tears welling up so big they cloud the rest of your vision. Your ass is almost numb when you feel his hand again. “Nine! ‘M sorry, imma bad girl ‘n I love your spankin’s..” You whine, fat tears finally rolling down your cheeks. 

He hums, reaching for your chin so he can see your face, cheeks red and lip nearly bleeding from how hard you’ve been biting down on it. Your tears make you even prettier, coating your lashes and making your eyes glossy. He loves it, watching your sweet tears fall off your face to be absorbed by the fabric of his armchair. “Can you make it to ten, dollface?” 

He asks, gently wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “That could make it up to Daddy.” He hums softly, though his ultimate concern is your limit, and you know that too. You nod, if you’ve made it this far one more won’t break you. He smiles brightly, patting your cheek gently and letting your face go in favor of one last punishing spank of your bruised flesh. He rubs the skin after, trying to soothe it while he thinks of what he’s going to do to you next. 

Your eyes close under his now gentle pressure. Your ass pulsates and your pussy throbs with need, your biggest concern now was earning back your husband’s favor.

“Ten. “m really sorry, I mean it! Wanna make it up to you, really make it up to you..” You breathe apologetically, waiting to move until he tells you that you can. 

He hums at your sweet apologeticness. His princess truly owns his heart, and he could never stay angry with you. His anger melted the second he saw you, but he had to follow through on his word. Plus, it was fun to see you so ruined like this. He wonders what you may have in mind, so he arches his brow and waits for you to speak. 

“Let me suck your cock, Daddy. Please?” Your voice was permanently warped into a pouty whine it seems. He chuckles at your suggestion, how could he ever turn that down? 

“Go ahead angel, just for a bit. I’m gonna breed my brat.”  He says dauntingly, gently pushing you off his lap. His hands support your waist as you lower yourself to the floor between his legs. His bulge was staring at you, painfully restrained by his pants. You pouted up at him and shook your head, reaching for his button and zipper. 

He hummed at your attentiveness, leaning up so you could drag his pants and boxers off. You giggle softly as his member slapped up against his abdomen upon release. You look at his dick with awe. It was just as pretty as the rest of him, long and curved just to abuse your sweet spots. His tip was an angry purplish-red, and pre-cum beaded at his slit. You licked your lips and looked up at him, dainty and soft hand wrapping around his lengthy shaft. You could barely close your hand around him, fingers far from touching. He took his own bottom lip in his mouth to keep from sighing, your hand alone tremendous relief. 

He fights the urge to close his eyes, wanting to watch his sweet brat take him. His hands grip the arms of the chair, the suede fabric the only other identifiable feeling other than your warm throat gripping around him. He was heavy in your mouth, tip poking at the back of your throat with inches left to swallow. You decide to bob your head along what you have so far, eyes fluttering closed so you can focus on the feeling of his ridges rubbing against your tastebuds. Your throat relaxes, letting you take in the rest of him with a gentle moan, the vibration sending shockwaves through his body. He wondered if you could feel his cock pulse the same way he does, watching cute tears run down your cheeks again, no doubt pushing your skills to accommodate him. He needs more of you, his cock never deep enough. You look so beautiful, rubbing your legs together to relieve your own ache for him, he can’t help but moan out too, reaching for a hold fashioned of your hair. 

“You can’t go so slow, princess. I thought you were going to make it up to me?” He smirks, forcing your head along him. You gag around him and he makes an animalistic growl, striving for that choking noise again. He fucks into your face just as hard as he pushes your head down. You have to hold his thighs, digits gripping his lean legs for your life. He giggles at your struggle, though he knows you’re more than happy to please him. He keeps going until he hears that gurgle again, the sign of your struggle to take all of him in. Tears roll freely down your cheeks at this point, your mouth just a hole being used.  

He pulls you off of him, relishing in the saliva coating your lips and the heaving of your chest. “Climb aboard.” He hums, looking down at his painful erection and back up at you, his perfect princess but bumbling brat. “Take the dress off though.” He adds with a scrunch of his nose, anxious to see your perfect body under the pretty dress. 

You nod and peel the dress off, discarding it into a pile in the floor. You slid out of your heels as well, thinking it wise with your task ahead. His eyes grow wide at the sight of you, a matching lacy blue bra cupping his favorite breasts. “It’s pretty, princess. You’re gorgeous, need you to come sit on me.” He wiggles his eyebrows, watching tentatively as you unlatch your bra and let it fall to the floor as well. “You might as well take the panties off too, then.” He grins, pearly white and sharp teeth sparkling at you. 

You grin as well, bending over to slide the soaked garment off, throwing them at him with a giggle. He catches them, sticking his tongue out to taste your arousal off the soiled center. He hold your eyes the entire time, crystalline half-lidded orbs putting a spell on you. You shudder at his intensity, humming as you crawl back into the chair. He tosses your panties over his shoulder, licking his lips from your taste. His only focus is you. Your thighs straddle his hips, his weeping member already poking at your slick entrance. He just grins and places his hands on your hips, pulling you down to take him all at once. You gasp, the sharp burn of him against your womb was a feeling you never adjusted to. 

It was one he loved, both the feeling of your suffocating walls clenching and unclenching around him and the look of pleasure on your face before you’ve even started to move. He smiles, knowing how to get under your skin just like you did with him. He pulls his touch back, folding his arms behind his head. He looks up at you, eyes wild with mischief, tendrils of his shaggy white hair splaying over his muscular arms and the fabric of the chair to create a beautiful contrast. “This is your punishment, princess. Gotta do all the work yourself or I’m not gonna touch you.” 

You whine, bracing yourself on his chest. “So mean, Daddy.” You puff your cheeks, but start to slowly bounce on his lap, the pleasure of him bumping against your pleasure spot already making it hard to keep your pacing consistent. 

“I can show you mean, if you say that again.” He threatens, though his features display amusement. He does find it adorable that you can’t keep yourself together past a few cute bounces, inflating his ego even more so. He has to fight the urge to take control, though he’s not sure he can do it much longer with your pathetic attempts at riding him. It’s his idea of a joke, making his pretty little brat take the top for once. It was clear who took care of you, and that alone was making your cheeks warm in embarrassment. 

As if you could read his thoughts, you bite down on your lower lips and commit to thirty seconds or so of consistent bouncing. Your face scrunches up in frustration, and your perfect pout is back on display. 

“Aw, baby girl, what’s wrong? Can’t fuck yourself the same way Daddy does?” He hums curiously, his pretty pink lips curling into a grin. 

You shake your head, letting your head fall forward into his neck. “No Daddy, I can’t.” You admit, defeated by his blatant show of his dominance over you. 

He chuckles, patting your hair lovingly. “Aw, now that’s okay sweetheart. I’ll take care of you like I always do.” He gently reminds, bringing his hands back to hold your waist. He stands up with you, walking a short trek until your back smacks against the living room wall. He grins cheekily when you wrap your arms around his neck. He shifts his hands to support the underside of your thighs, and you know he has the strength and the stamina to hold you here until he’s satisfied. 

“Now, much better.”  He hums in your ear, looking down at where your pussy swallows him up. He pulls himself out to the tip, plunging into your cavern without a second passing in between these actions. He does it over and over, enjoying the way your body relaxes now that he’s back in control, as if he wasn’t to begin with. You’re still clutching him for dear life, but he’s used to that. Your face softens, only pleasure in your mind. He loves seeing you like this, being the reason you’re so blissful. He groans at how easy it is to slide in and out of you, dripping wet for him and he didn’t even have to work you to that point. “You’re still Daddy’s good girl, gripping me so tight like that.” 

You moan at his praise, continuously squeezing down on his length to make him happy. He fills you up so perfectly, his pace starting to increase, your head rolling back against the wall as well. He bites at your neck, the column just too delicious to ignore. Your moans amplified, and he could feel your throat vibrate under his teeth. He leaves marks on your jaw too, sucking deep hickies all over your dainty flesh.

“This is how you’re prettiest, princess, these are my favorite decorations.” He says in reference to his teeth marks and bruises covered in saliva that pepper any skin he had access to. His breath grows heavy, the feeling of it fanning over your new markings makes your skin tingle and goosebumps spring up in place. Your cunt only grows tighter as he fucks the shape of him into it, making him sigh happily. 

You can only speak in jumbled whispers of his name and moans, never more grateful for support than you are for the wall behind you, the ability to hold yourself upright long gone. Your hands slide up to tug on his hair, the feeling of his silky tresses giving you something to focus on. His pretty noises feel like a reward after what you’ve done, deep grunts and breathy moans gifted directly into your ear. 

“It’s been so long, princess. Didn’t get to have you all week, then you go and disobey me.” He clicks his tongue and grins at you. “I think you just wanted Daddy’s attention, hm? Did you just miss me angel?” He teases, the force of him making your body jump up and slide back down the wall at every thrust. 

You do your best to nod, and Satoru knows you’re past the point of being able to speak coherently. He was splitting you in half, you could feel him in your stomach and it burned so deliciously. “Mhm.. missed daddy s’much.” You wail, the rubberband in your stomach was stretched, so much tension that was about to snap and leak out all over him. 

He knows this, of course, trying to time his release with your own. As mean as he could be sometimes, your pleasure was still his goal, and he wanted you to reward him for all his work. “Go ahead, princess. I wanna feel it, go ahead and come for Daddy.” He coaxes with gentle kisses to the bruises he made. “I’ll give you mine if you give me yours.” He purrs, watching your eyes roll back with a satisfied grin. 

You cry out, knuckles turning white under your grip on Satoru’s shoulders. You nod in acknowledgement of his words, and he can feel you spasm around him to signify your release. He coos loving words to you, eyes glued on your cream creating a ring around the base of his dick. It’s so satisfying, watching you jerk with sensitivity and struggle to hold on. He loves this, his cock jumping inside you before his cum coats your insides. You swear it's in your guts, fee

ling impaled by his cock still pinning you to the wall. His head rests against the cool wall beside yours, but you can see the smile on his face. You smile too, breathing heavily and your brain feels like it’s floating in your skull. You know if he set you down right now that you would fall to the ground, legs still shaking in his hands. 

“I think you’ve learned a valuable lesson, princess.” He coos, pressing his lips gently to your forehead. He snakes his arms around your waist before he begins walking with you again, this time towards your shared room. “We can review for the rest of the night, just to be sure you really understand.” He adds, smirking cheekily. “And I’ll go to the bank tomorrow, just promise Daddy you’ll be smarter with your money.” He says with an affectionate slap to your ass while all your weight is supported in his other arm. 

“I promise Daddy.” You hum, hugging his neck and pressing your upper half against him. You absolutely would spend all your money the very next day if it means you get this punishment again. 

[taboo-delusion]

So, I just discovered something interesting.

This is a bit of a long one, so bear with me. It's important. Seriously.

I just woke up a few hours ago. My meds are starting to kick in. I was having a very serious and genuine, deep conversation (in-head) and it was... beautiful. It wasn't happy, but it was beautiful. Not the point.

Point is:

I had not had a single fucking intrusive thought today until someone made a noise in the other room.

I am so fucking PISSED OFF

Why my brain refuses to realize that intrusive thoughts CAUSED the good feeling to go away, I have no fucking idea. I've known that for almost a year now, yet my stupid fucking subconscious refuses to change anything it's doing

Before I snap my fucking android phone in half and yeet somebody's face into neptune, I thought I'd share the discovery!!!!

Basically:

MY INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS DID NOT START UNTIL SOMETHING STARTLED ME OUT OF FOCUS

AS I TYPE THIS, I REALIZE THAT INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS -AT LEAST FOR ADHDERS- ARE A SURVIVAL TACTIC.

Elaborating:

When you fall asleep and your heart slows too much, your body does the falling thing to make sure you're still alive.

It's not that intrusive thoughts are *Just* because your brain gets too quiet, It's because your life has never been completely quite before, or -like me- the few times it is quiet, something interrupts. And even if it doesn't piss you off, even if you don't jump like I do, your brain still registers it as not safe.

--

Falling asleep, heart slows a lot-

Body: *Sends adrenaline just to make sure it still actually works.*

Drowning, even mostly unconscious-

Body and brain: *Hold onto that last half-breath even if it feels like you're head is going to explode.*

Going grocery shopping or talking to someone you think is cool-

Brain: *Remembers what it felt like the first time your guardian was indifferent or mean about something that made you happy or calm.*

Things around you actually get quiet-

Brain *Sends a thought you hate just to make sure you're prepared for a sudden problem.*

TDLR 1: Your brain isn't mean on purpose, It's just paranoid and still has a will to live.

Listen. I know I'm just some random dude from a weird blog. But I'm trying to translate, to assist. Maybe somebody else needs this realization as much as I do. I apologize for the yelling earlier. I'm still just as upset, but only at my dumbass subconscious. Now some time has passed, and I have regained self-control.

(I also apologize for the above paragraph, my brain nags for me to do this, but I can't remember why. So:)

I am no psychologist. Here are my qualifications (why you should listen to me):

As my friends call it- "Disturbingly self-aware at all times."

Paranoid Schizophrenic with actual (unrelated) OCD, with years of experience dealing with it- more healthily in recent years.

Philosophy and deep thinking is simply my default. I use metaphors, but everything in this post is entirely literal, ...except the angry threat. (*begrudgingly accepts disappointment*)

I am a fiction writer. I don't know about healing people/first aid, but I know a LOT about how anatomy works, with many deep-dives on the psychology/evolution side.

People irl generally consider me a genius? Idk how to gauge that, IQ tests are irrelevant with this type of... smart?. I've been compared to both Da Vinci and Einstein. So, ...actually that's pretty fuckin' cool- (I AM NOT TRYING TO BRAG! I APOLOGIZE IF IT COMES OFF THAT WAY! I've never put it all down like this, and I'm just surprised and questioning my reputation.)

(Also, I love playing detective, so naturally I call myself Batman XD.)

Autistic; I experience the world, and every situation, from a view without any context.

ADHD: My brain automatically -As a guardian I hate describes- "Can watch three different movies at the same time, all in fast forward, and can keep up with all of them." ... Well, yes, but technically no. Idk if other ADHD people do this, but my brain "connects the dots" so quickly, I end up laughing at jokes I've never heard before the 'punchline', because I've already figured out what you're going to say next.

Now combine all that. I am kicking depression's ass and now I want to help you do the same.

I have only mentioned the relevant things. Please keep in mind that ALL of these have both advantages and disasters. Thank you for your patience and understanding. I am running on four hours of sleep. For the love of whatever, I hope this actually helps someone other than me.

Qualifications are noted because: This is all stuff (and stuff like this) that I am just always casually aware of.

TLDR2: Even if I wasn't trying to help people feel better, Apparently I was born with a nat 20 perception/insight check, so please don't argue that I truly understand what I'm talking about here.

[bubacorn]

hc: Vessel is bad at receiving compliments and being told that he is loved (hug inspired by this one, @ghxstly-death put it into words perfectly. thank you, Eden!🫂)

Thinking about Vessel who can't accept compliments, not because he doesn't believe them (that too), but because he'd heard them so many times in the past related to small, unimpressive things. Not 'I'm proud of you', just 'You did good', an automatic response to any and all achievements. He did good. He didn't know what 'good' meant, but apparently, he did that. He has no idea what was good about what he did, so he continues to push himself, to not be a disappointment. If he does good, then that should be enough, right?

He tries for great, for excellent, for something more, but he always gets 'good', unrelated to the effort and time he put into something. He knows he shouldn't wish for more specific compliments, or anything else, really. He should be grateful to be regarded. Everyone around him is so busy, they can't possibly have time to listen to him talk about how in reality, he has no idea what he's doing. How things sometimes just click but he can't tell if what he did is actually worth anything or it was just pure luck. How he doubts himself at every step but learned to hide it, because he has to be good. And good means coping and dealing with things by himself and quietly, because then he will be told that he did good and who wouldn't want to be good?

Vessel who hears 'I love you' for the first time (said with actual love behind it for the very first time) in a really long time from II. He wouldn't tell the other that, but it's clear from the surprise and the hopeful longing in Vessel's eyes. His friend told him he loves him and he doesn't know what to do with that, so he hesitantly steps to him and begins to lift his arms in question. II's heart squeezes at his shyness, after all, the other has spent months alone in the manor, so it's understandable that he would have grown unaccustomed to touch. But then II has to pull Vessel against him, because the man sort of hovers his arms around his frame as if he doesn't know how to approach a hug. Like he isn't sure what is expected of him and what is too much.

Vessel is surprised when II squeezes around his torso, when he brings one arm around his shoulder and the other to his neck, trying to bring Vessel down towards him, like he wants to protect and shelter him. That's strange, but Vessel finds that his arms want to stay wrapped loosely around II a bit longer and just as he starts to pull away, II again says "I love you, Vessel", and Vessel's brain freezes. II squeezes him tighter and Vessel feels so warm and strangely loose (he's afraid he will unravel if he stays too close for too long) and small even though he towers over his friend. His friend who is now holding him and who apparently loves him.

The only thing in his mind stumbles from his tongue in the form of a quiet "Why?". He didn't do anything exceptional. He was showing II an arrangement and said he wasn't sure if it was any good, letting his fingers dance over the keys, feeling like he was stumbling through music. He felt like it captured that familiar insecurity, and he liked it and hoped II would like it, too. Even if it didn't make it into a song. Then II said he did like it, that it feels like Vessel is unsure but it gives the melody a unique flavor, and that Vessel was great for translating that feeling into music.

"'Why?' ?" II's answering question is filled with such disbelief that Vessel wants to hide. He said something inappropriate, something secret that had previously only been dwelling in his mind, in a dark corner, and now he feels exposed. Why did he even open his mouth? Not good. Definitely bad.

Vessel is slumping against II a bit, like he doesn't know how to hold himself upright anymore, like he needs support. II must feel it, because he's still holding him, and it's been minutes and Vessel tries to squirm away, to save any dignity he might still possess, and II lets him slip out of the embrace, but his arms linger like he doesn't want to let go of his friend. His friend who just blurted out the worst response to a confession of gentle affection. Vessel looks so worried when he catches II's gaze and he immediately averts his eyes and takes a few small steps back, unconsciously gravitating towards his piano for protection, a sense of safety.

"You're my friend, Vessel," II tries approaching the man with soft words, "You're kind and considerate and a damn good musician," Vessel stops backing away when the back of his legs hit the edge of his piano bench, but he's still looking at the floor, "You pour your heart into writing and playing and it's amazing to see. You're committed, but patient and you help me every time I need. Even when I'm too embarrassed to ask," II tilts his head and steps a bit closer to try and catch Vessel's gaze, "I know you don't see it and I'm sorry that you can't because it's true. I would never lie to you about this, Ves. I love you, you're my best friend," Vessel presses his lips together, so II adds, "Not just because we live in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. You're the best friend I've ever had. And I'm glad Sleep led me to you."

Vessel gives him a look that shows he tries really hard to believe him, and adds in such a low voice it's almost a whisper, "I love you, too," as if he's embarrassed to admit it. But it's not embarrassment, II realizes, it's disbelief, it's some sort of deep shame about needing someone else, of relying on anyone else but himself at all times. And it makes sense, considering Vessel's nature, but II could never put it all together, since large chunks of Vessel's past were unfamiliar to him. He could have guessed based on how the man acted, but he didn't want to assume anything. It felt disrespectful. Vessel would share if he wanted.

"And I'm really glad you found me," just a beat of silence, before he adds, in an even quieter tone, if that's possible, "And that you stayed," Vessel risks a bashful glance towards II, and sees him blink rapidly, shocked by the implication of the other's words, before he shakes himself and steps closer to Vessel. He searches his face for apprehension, but doesn't find any, so he gently puts his hands on Vessel's upper arms and sits him down on his bench. Before Vessel can react, II has his arms wrapped around him, one around his shoulder, and the other's hand cupping the back of his head and cradling it to his front.

"You're important to me, Ves. You're special and precious and I love you," II's fingers caress the man's shoulder and card through his hair, "I want you to know that I'm here for you any time, okay?" Vessel is still stunned and he's sure he's going catch on fire if he gets any warmer. II twists a lock of hair around his finger, "Okay?" Words form and die in Vessel's throat so he just nods, rapidly, almost hurriedly, and II lets out a small chuckle. "You're amazing, you know that?" he nuzzles into Vessel's hair for a moment to murmur, "And adorable," II sways with the man in his arms a little and Vessel is sure he will combust. His face is flaming against II's shirt and he tries to suppress the half grimace-half grin on his face and feels unreal. "C'mon. Tea break?" II smiles down at him and offers a hand. Vessel can stand on his own, but doesn't reject the offer. He likes the warmth of II's hand and he can always use the stability and the reminder of the other's presence. II soon replaces his hand with a mug of tea, but it's considerably colder to Vessel. The contrast is especially palpable when II brushes his knuckles against Vessel's as he's handing him his tea. The mug is warm, but II's skin is burning against his. But it's not bad. It's a good burn. It makes Vessel feel alive. Seen. Loved?

Vessel learns that he doesn't have to prove himself to other people to receive love. Love is not something that has to be earned in their home. Love is not a reward, not something that Vessel has to work for, then be disappointed that in the end, it isn't actually given to him. He tried being good in the past, being silent and keeping his head down and being a good kid, but the warmth and the unconditional love didn't come. He still tried, though, he always tried his best, but apparently that wasn't enough. Or there wasn't actually love at the end of that tunnel. It was just a play of light. But that would have been cruel and Vessel would like to think that people in his past weren't intentionally unkind to him (he won't admit the truth to himself for a while).

II often tells Vessel that he's proud of him. For speaking up. For telling him when he's having a bad day. For asking for distance when he needs it and closeness when he feels like he will drift away. For admitting to messing up, when he falls back into bad habits of self-destruction and isolation. For doing a grocery run by himself even though he goes home almost shaking and has to spend the next hours under a blanket on the couch, because it was simply too much. For crying when he talks about memories that he tried his hardest to forget but he just can't. For asking for help and letting II help him, even though it's hard. It's really hard, and Vessel apologizes for it, for being fucked-up and broken and damaged goods. For wasting II's time and being a burden, a needy, greedy thing. Wretched. Minus human.

But II tells him he loves him and that he could never be a burden. That he will always be worth it, he always has been, and that he's sorry that people in Vessel's past couldn't see it. Couldn't see him for all that he is. For the friend who pays attention to little details so he can show his friend how much he values him. For the guy who bakes his friend a complicated cake for his birthday because he off-handedly told him he can't even remember what it tasted like, even though it used to be his favorite. For the amazing composer who can capture emotions one doesn't realize one has. For the hard-working, curious kid who thought that being obedient and not questioning authority was the way to earn praise and affection. For the little boy who thought something was wrong with him, that he did or didn't do something and that is why he couldn't feel loved. For the child who cried and cried, silent and under the cover of the night, hoping that no one would hear (and secretly hoping that somebody would and they would come and save him from the gaping emptiness that made its home in his chest, way too big and scary for a boy that little). For the boy and then the man who couldn't cry anymore but thought that that is more than alright, at least he can finally keep it all inside. For the partner who allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone he trusted. For the partner who made sure his other knew he was always welcome, even though his brain sometimes tried to tell him otherwise. For the partner who grew comfortable with expressing casual affection so much that terms like 'darling' became second nature to him (and for the way he blushed when II told him that). For the man who learned to accept that it's okay to admit to not being okay, to need someone, to want to not feel alone, to feel cherished, to have his feelings validated. For the man who can tell his partner anything and does, because he knows he can speak his mind and that there will be someone who listens.

II wanted to see Vessel. Vessel let him. Even before he showed the uglier and less than perfect parts of himself, II loved him all the same. It was never about being 'good' and silent and compliant. Vessel is good. Vessel is not good. He's amazing. He's perfect. He's wonderful. He's cherished. He's incredible. He's valued. He's seen. He's listened to. He's heard. He's finally, finally loved. Has been for longer than he dared to think. Will soon be by more people than he thought possible.

[russquez]

#MARCMARQUEZ x #HONDA: long live

[punbeam]

Not to assign cartoon characters mental illnesses like some sort of Youtube Clickbaiter, but the way Simon is treated in Fionna and Cake feels specifically reminiscent of how our society is hypocritical about bipolar/manic depressive people.

I don't think this is controversial to say, but in the original Adventure Time Simon-as-Ice-King just felt like a general mental illness allegory. Not to say it was executed perfectly, since again it was a generalized allegory and often focused on the people around Simon VS him, but it did manage to cover a fair amount of nuances: acknowledging when Ice King's behavior was a reflection of the mental illness Crown and not Simon; the conflicting dynamic of growing up with a mentally ill Magically Cursed parental figure; Treat People Who Are Mentally Ill Cursed As People.

But in Fionna and Cake where Simon isn't Ice King anymore? And everyone is going on about how cooler and more fun and more creative Ice King was compared to Simon? It just seems like the fantasy equivalent to people fetishizing manic depression in creatives and saying stuff like "The pills will kill your creativity" and "What if Van Gogh wasn't depressed, wouldn't his art be so much worse?"

And in the show we see Simon internalize all these comments! Over and over again people are saying he's pathetic as Simon and can't do anything special as Simon, unlike Ice King. So between all of that and his own warped nostalgia of the past, he uses the slimmest opportunity to volunteer to be Ice King again, even if it hurts him!

The worst part is we know that rn Simon is damned either way. Depressed as Simon, the people of Ooo avoid him and don't try to connect with him, and he is too afraid of being a burden and reaching out to Marcy for help. And if he relapses turns fully back into Ice King? They'll treat him like a party toy for a while before discarding him when he gets "too crazy" and the novelty wears off, and he'll probably lose his only support network.

That being said at this point (Episode 4) it's hard to tell which direction all of this will go. Tom Kenny has mentioned how this show features the most emotional VA work he's ever done, so it's fair to say that whatever happens next in the series with Simon will be intense and even heavier than it already has been.

[mairyplace]

journeys trio>>>

[asteralien]

i can't speak for every mentally ill person but i don't think "don't self-deprecate! it makes everyone around you feel bad :(((" is necessarily the all-encompassing bandaid slam-dunk you think it is.

[izloveshorses]

bellamy sneaking off to save clarke in 3x02 is LITERALLY top 3 moments of this entire show ohmygod ohmygodohmygod

[apollokyler]

sketchy doodle hyoga🥺🥺🥺💖 bc i likes how it turned out

apollocore3 i'm noticing new traits tendency🤔

[iloveyouitisruiningmylife]

spending my whole life trying and trying and trying and trying to be good enough for people who don't give a fuck about me

[akuma-tenshi]

there are some characters where i look at them and go "i don't want anything bad to happen to them ever" and others where i look at them and go "i need them to suffer so fucking much until they b r e a k" and there's no telling which is which until you talk to me about them

[vanx-97]

Leave me here alone to die

I’m so tired of you making me cry

This life I live is not mine

Your words control me all the time

Out my mind, you want me gone

On the inside I don’t belong

You make me feel like I can’t hold on

That the person I am is so wrong

I should be like this

I should be like that

Stick to the script

Being different is bad

My work is cliche, nothing new

This thing here won’t get you far

Keep your job, stay in school

You’re not very good at making art

I don’t want to listen to you

I don’t want to do what they do

I am nothing, if what you say is true

Then if I fail at what I love, there’s nothing to lose

[marc--chilton]

(mgv) good morning. picture this: house's leg acting up while wilson is over so wilson offers to massage it for him. house gripes for a second, jokes about them not beating the homosexuality allegations, but relents. and while wilson is working out the knots, the relief is so palatable that house lets out the purrs he's been keeping a tight hold on ever since the spasm started. they're good ones, too, the tone and breathing just right to let you know he feels good. at that point house has relaxed back into the couch with his eyes closed so he doesn't see how wilson visibly perks up when he hears it. mr needs to be needed, bitching provider, doctor husband -- compounded with his status as an alpha, having proof that he makes house feel better, that he's good at what he's doing, he preens, working the muscles harder with a smile. it's so domestic and soft that wilson starts purring too, his lower and more rumbling compared to house's.

(they don't talk about it once the moment's over. back to the status quo.)

[kyouka-supremacy]

Mmmhh...

[spiltcandycoatedpunkblood]

Captain Haddock: We haven't stopped to talk. We haven't had a chance. It's always like that with you, running from one thing to the next. I've seen it. What you've been through. Tintin: They destroyed my life because of me. We stand here now in this hall, with a life which they devastated because of what I did to them. So, yes, I keep running! Of course I do! How am I supposed to look back on that?!? Captain Haddock: It wasn't your fault! Tintin: I know!