#im not the best a writing comfort.

[b0mblover]

It’ll be Okay in the End

By: J

cw; selfharm, generally negative thoughts, blood (etc everything that comes with sh)

lopt essentially has a silent breakdown and mason comforts him or smth idk im not good at summeries,

[Note; this was wrote out of my own desperation for comfort, not romanizing sh, i do not encourage or believe anyone should do this to themselves, seek help.]

i uh, actually had a easier time writing this than most things, probably because ive been essentially replaying this whole scene in my head for literal years! i for once wasnt upset when i wrote this, i was very tired tho! uh i have alot more to say but hawaii part ii lopt is taking over my brain again, so im gonna go do that! have fun with my depressed 100% projected loptson ig!

•

lopt was in ‘his’ so called room, scribbling away at some paper,

mason was rather concerned, hearing frustrated noises constantly, what sounded like pencils breaking,

they had been “partners” officially for 3 months now, mason had always cared about lopt to an extent, partner or not, but this was… odd.

sure lopt had his own life, hobbies, but he didnt care to keep /that/ much from mason, especially whenever he asked,

but, this was different.

lopt had came home from wherever the fuck he was- hell if mason knew details- annoyed, he stormed off to some room, when mason tried to ask what was wrong he only blew him off saying that “its none of your fucking business, you wouldnt get it anyways”

•

lopt was scribbling away in his notepad, despite being a god and literally being immortal, he still couldnt force creativity to come to him,

it was his fifth time trying,

most drawings resulted in poorly scribbled out lines,

he had went out to try and get inspiration for “some project” though he didnt really /have/ anything to work on, starting a new drawing always seemed to be a block for him,

he sat down his broken (6b) pencil, (rather violently but he didnt want to acknowledge that) and got up, he knew somewhere in him, that he needed a break, he walked out of his room to get water, but his mind wouldnt leave him alone,

constant thoughts about how awful his art was spewed around

“youre not “talented”, youre worthless”

“itd be better to quit now”

“just rip up the damn papers, theyre ugly anyways”

“imagine- you could just go and alleviate all this pain, just with that knife-“

he tried to push down his thoughts,

grabbing a cup from the cabinet and filling it with water,

the knives in the butcher block seemed so… tempting,

most of him /knew/ that he shouldnt- that it was wrong, that mason would be disappointed- disgusted, if he found out about his thoughts,

but, he couldnt help it,

all memories of the nights he got up from their bed to take part in something that would disgust his partner made him sick.

questions runned through his head as he sipped on his water, leaning onto the counter

“would he be sad?”

“would he care?”

“would he call me names?”

“tell me how pathetic i am?”

“leave me?”

“would he hate me?”

“tell me how ugly my body is”

“tell me how he hates the scars”

“tell me just how much he despises me”

the voices grew louder wither every question,

saying that he wanted mason to hate him,

that he did hate him,

in the very back of lopts mind, in the tiniest corner, he knew it all wasnt true, that he was being dramatic over nothing,

but even then, the memories of all the times he loved someone- all the times he didnt question if they hated him, what they all said to him,

he felt like doubting himself was the only way to have them not leave,

to not abandon him,

he took a deep breath before sighing, realizing his cup was empty, he decided that he had enough of a “break” and that he needed to start “working” again,

•

mason was sitting on the couch, some random tv show playing for background noise, when lopt wasnt “there” it was almost too quiet, in a way, mason had grown to love how loud and chaotic the house was with lopt- even if thery were the only two people in it.

he seen lopt walk into the kitchen for around 8~ minutes before he trudged his way into his room once more,

he didnt know excatly as to what lopt was doing,

granted whatever it was had to have been important, he didnt usually spend 3+ hours in a room alone silently, it started to make him worry, was lopt sick? just why did he seem so upset when he came home? is he okay? did he hurt himself?

•

lopt sat down at his desk once more, staring at the scribbled page, a sphere, he couldnt figure out how to shade it properly on the background,

he sighed turning his attention to the top left drawer,

he stood up walking over to his dresser, pulling out another drawer, he took out a roll of bandages, and some tissues, 

he knew that he shouldnt, that it was essentially pointless, that hed feel better soon enough,

but that fear crept back up,

“what about last time you didnt? remember? it got only worse because you didnt”

he rubbed the sides of his nose bridge, the voices were annoying, they knew that he was gonna, even without the encouragement.

he sat back down at his desk, sitting the tissues to his right and the badages to his left before pulling out the left hand drawer,

he rummaged through it, various miscellaneous items, before coming across a box,

a red box, seemingly quiet old, with yellow letters reading “do it” on the front,

he took one out, ‘unwrapping’ the razor blade,

straight edge,

he stared at it, contemplating just what hes doing with his life,

“i cant draw, i cant write, i cant make people happy, i cant make music, i can only recite the tales others have told, im worthless, im doless, i will never amount to anything or anyone in my life, god or not, human or not, this is deserved, if i cannot create, then i at lease deserve to bleed”

a mantra he told himself, attempting to poorly justify his actions,

•

mason listened at the door, hearing nothing, no pencil, no walking, almost no breathing, he didnt know everything about lopt, sure, but he knew that he didnt look well off, and what boyfriend would he be to his partner if he wasnt concerned?

they had an unspoken rule to always at least knock before walking into the others space, granted they had seen every part of each other, it was just a courtesy they had, 

though, something felt off,

mason felt as if he shouldnt knock, that lopt was hiding something,

all those sleepless nights where lopt comforted him abundantly, he had felt him get up, a few times he had caught lopt in the basement, he didnt know just what he was doing, he always hid something,

he didnt want to break any boundaries sure, thatd be rude and disrespectful, but, he had a weird feeling in his gut that it was for lopts own saftey,

“please forgive me for this” he muttered to himself,

sharply inhaling before opening the door,

simply greeted by lopts back.

•

lopt heard the door open, he had three lines going diagonally down his right arm, bleeding, he fumbled the razor, dropping it onto the floor, it had gotten rather dark by now, so it probably wouldnt be seen, he attempted to get the tissues, he had always been a great liar,

“ill just say i accidentally cut myself, if he asks what i was doing with a weapon, ill deflect and say i was being stupid”

it seems like he fumbled the tissues for a bit too long.

“hey”

mason said over his shoulder,

he moved his left hand to cover the cuts,

“o-oh, hey, whats wrong?”

“hm, well, i mean nothing? i guess, what are you doing?”

“i- you guess? is something the matter?”

mason had noticed he was oddly covering his forearm,

“you ignored my question.”

“huh?”

“i asked what youre doing.”

masons tone sounded alot more pissed off, granted he wasnt, just concered more than anything,

“o-oh i um, ok dont laugh but uh- i was trying to draw”

“and why are you covering your arm? are you hurt?”

“i- huh? wh- no, no! i uh, may have also been playing with a blade and accidentally scraped myself, nothing much”

“let me see”

“what?”

“let me see your injury”

lopt was taken aback, all of his previous partners never asked to see his wounds, scars sure but never his wounds, even if they werent self inflicted, he was shocked, he hadnt planned for this.

“i- i assure you dear, it isnt anything to worry about-“

“let me see it. are you hiding something?”

in that moment lopt felt small, like a child almost, weak, helpless, he didnt know how he could get out of this without mason either finding out or being suspicious of him.

“i- here”

lopt moved his left arm to mason, there were a few small cuts on it, though rather old looking,

lopt moved his right arm off the table, into the shadows to not call attention to it.

“uh huh, now the other?”

lopt seen his eternal life flash before his very eyes.

his mind went on autopilot and raised his right arm, he usually would fight but, he knew itd be pointless, mason would just worry more, thus making him keep a closer eye on lopt, he didnt want to feel selfish, not like that,

“oh my, i- oh my god,”

mason was shocked, he had suspected that lopt had hurt himself in the past, granted the scars,

but, he didnt think he still did it, sure the weird behavior, but it never really dawned on him until that moment.

.

mason had brought (more like dragged) lopt to the bathroom, running the slits under cool water, putting pressure to hopefully get the bleeding under control, he opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out another roll of bandages,

he stood behind lopt washing the blood off, still slightly in shock,

“why?”

“huh?”

“why do you do this?”

masom questioned, fully aware of the long list lopt was about to give out,

“i- well, i dunno..”

lopts voice trailed off before starting again,

“i mean, i dont even know why i do this, it just feels good? like i can do something right? it makes me feel like im not worthless”

mason hummed for a second before choosing his words

“do you feel normally that youre worthless?”

“i guess so, i dont know why, i have the best boyfriend, my life is great, i just dont know..”

“mmhm, what were you trying to draw?”

“i dont know. does it matter?”

lopt shot back

“well, you seemed frustrated at it, so im sure it’s important to you yeah? so then it’s important to me”

mason brought his hands around lopts wrist, rubbing it slightly attempting to calm him down

“i- i dont know, i just, i feel frustrated, so i tried to draw, but drawing makes me feel more frustrated, so i did this- an- and n-now-“

lopt began to stutter, tears swelling up in his eyes, mason had only seen him cry on a few occasions,

“shh- shh its okay, i know what youre saying, breath, okay?”

lopt inhaled deeply, feeling masons left hand move to wipe the tears away,

he didnt even know why he was crying,

mason bandaged lopts arm slightly tight, 

“shh, now, you wanna talk about this? or wait a little bit longer to calm down?”

“c-calm down”

“alright alright, shh youre okay, see?”

mason lead lopt into his bedroom, taking lopts hand under the covers as he had done for him every sleepless night,

lopt could feel his eyelids starting to droop, the warmth of his boyfriend comforting him, the love of his boyfriend comforting him,

he shoved his head into masons chest, finding it to be the most comfortable spot out of the entire bed,

mason ruffled his hair, slowly stroking his hand on his neck,

“y’know, you may be a god,

and you may be immortal, but,

ill be with you for as long as you need, in this life and after”

lopt didnt respond, just slightly nodded his head before burrying it deeper into masons chest, 

maybe tonight wasnt so bad after all,

spending time with mason- no, his boyfriend, was never bad.

lopt faded in and out of sleep, trying to fight the melatonin being produced, just to feel the sweet touch of his boyfriends skin, before he completely felt himself drift away, he heard him speak,

“I love you, i love you so much, never forget that, in this life and the next, ill always love you, lopt.”

[fandomrose]

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you." 

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him. 

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree. 

"Please do." 

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation. 

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up. 

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far. 

"Beloved, lift your arms." 

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned. 

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes." 

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it. 

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you." 

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide." 

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and, 

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?" 

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we." 

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him. 

"Beloved, lay down." 

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times. 

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind. 

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

[starry-bi-sky]

more cfau miscellaneous things because Childhood Friends Danny and Jason have my head and heart always and I need to finish rewriting chapter two dammit (and redo the half-finished chapter 4 because its just Not The Vibes). i'm almost through I need to get through the graveyard scene. (i just stubbornly refuse to have it be shorter than the original chapter and thats the little death. that is the mind killer.)

Danny and jason’s ghost forms both smell faintly like burnt flesh and cigarettes. However, Jason has a more smokey smell while Danny’s smells almost,,, electrical? In a sense? Like he just straight up smells like burnt flesh and sulphur while Jason smells like someone put him in a smoker first.

It’s very much an unpleasant smell but Danny finds an odd comfort in it just as much as he finds a comfort in the smell of nicotine.

(Jason post-revival smells burnt flesh once and is immediately offput by the fact that it brings him an instinctive comfort. He doesn’t realize its because it reminds him of Danny, and is uncomfortable by it.)

-

In an au of an au, Danny’s altercation with Rath ends with Rath regaining enough of his sanity to snap out of the grieving state and ends with him breaking down. Instead of being souped and imprisoned, Rath, who is permanently 14, decides to Move On into the unknown. He’s exhausted, heartbroken, and tired.

(Is this influenced heavily by the ParaNorman scene where he talks to Agatha and helps her move on? Yes. But it doesn’t fit with the Original Storyline so im shoving it into an Au of an Au.)

Rath tells Danny that Jason lied to them (which he genuinely believes), and that he’s tired of waiting/looking for him/grieving. Jason is gone. He isn’t coming back, he abandoned them. And he wants his mom and dad, and his sister, and his friends. And he’s ready to join them.

He leads Danny out to Gotham, which other than Amity Park might’ve been the only city left untouched due to Rath’s own mental block on the place. They go out to the park he and Jason used to frequent or up to one of crime alley’s rooftops, and there Rath lies down and goes to sleep. Only to never wake up again, materializing into nothing as his soul moves on.

Before Rath leaves, he forces Danny to promise him that he’ll only wait for Jason for ten years. After that if he doesn’t find him, or if Jason doesn’t show, then Danny has to move on. Whether that be like how Rath does, or if its inly mentally/emotionally, doesn’t matter. He has to move on. Don’t wait for him. Don’t waste his time any more.

(“Oh, and if you find him, kick his ass for me.”)

Danny reluctantly agrees, and Rath lies down. Danny sings to him as he falls asleep.

(Angsty points if the vigilantes including Red Hood caught wind of their presence and were silently watching from the shadows. Rath might know they’re there, but Danny’s too focused on Rath to notice.)

(If only so that Red Hood realizes that this is what happened to Danny, and that Danny is gone before he can make things right. The tragedy, folks. The angst. The initial realization that Danny was Rath, and then also that Danny was dead and has been dead for years, and that before he moved on, he moved on believing that Jason abandoned him.)

(like i said it doesn't fit in the original timeline/storyline hence why its an au of an au and isn't nearly a fleshed out, but i was largely just focusing on the tragedy of Rath moving on and Jason being alive to see it and realize just who Rath is.)

-

Just like how the Lazarus pits shot Jason's twiggy 4'6-5'4 (depending on what you find) feet tall and 86lb ass up like a tree an essentially fixed his malnutrition, the portal did the same thing for Danny.

(granted i forgot about malnutrition and danny's likely stunted growth at first -- his family lived in crime alley and despite both his parents working, I don't think they had enough food all the time. He probably wasn't as badly malnourished as Jason was, but he wasn't healthy either.)

Granted his ghost in its "natural" state (14) is short, and his growth spurts were slow at first, it did result in him reaching his dad's height. There were points where it just happened overnight, like a baby. He went to bed one night 5’6 and woke up the next day 5’10.

Jazz is shorter than him. Although I have't decided if she's even liminal at all (and if she is, it didn't cure everything because she would have also suffered childhood malnutrition, and since in au canon their parents didn't get their hands on physical ectoplasm until after they got to Amity Park. So the exposure is less.)

-

Danny's voice absolutely sounds like canon Dan's. It kinda just dropped one day when he was 16-17 and never went back up. Sam and Tucker sometimes ask him to just talk about anything because they find his voice soothing.

I'm not sure yet how Danny would feel about it at first considering Rath, but I imagine that Rath, when he did speak, would have had a quieter and scratchier/weaker voice considering he's spent the last decade shrieking and crying.

(and i suppose technically that shouldn't have any effect on his throat considering he's a ghost and idk if that would actually affect him, but i like the idea so im keeping it)

In the beginning you could hear him from a mile away by the sound of his loud, echoing wails, but ten years later you can only really hear him by the soft, shuddering sobs he makes. Like he's gasping for air that isn't there. The future is full of very quiet survivors.

And it's much easier to speak when you pitch your voice upwards (especially when whispering/speaking quietly) so he might've spoken in a higher, airy pitch in order to be heard. So Danny might actually find a comfort in having a lower voice.

[ghostl0re]

if 𝕻𝖔𝖔𝖗 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 doesn't win best picture the Oscars will lose all credibility. that movie is insane from start to finish, actually im thinking on writing a whole essay about the movie.

my love for films resurrected from the ashes with this movie (and Past Lives ngl)

there's many controversial opinions about the movie which is normal and acceptable but no one can deny this movie (i know is a book) talks about a common feeling in a disturbing and haunting way that leaves you mind blown which is the whole point of art; art is subjetive and that's why this movie is not for everyone. you either love or hate this movie, there's not in-between.

if a piece of art doesn't leave a sensation, realization, feeling or thought on you, then is not for you. this movie is not light, to the point that i think i could never watch it again, but is just so good. i could talk for HOURS about this movie and what it made me feel. God i love art so much.

[minghzi]

That moment you realized, you still had something to lose. Something important enough that, if it happened again because they wanted to protect you, you could never forgive yourself. 

 But you're both still alive. You've never felt so weak. And so does he.

[nhothicket]

Art I did for a fic I just posted ^v^

Based on Rusalka, Rusalka / Wild Rushes by The Decemberists.

[nyarlylicious]

It's best boy's birthday in a few days, so I thought I'd do something special following up to it; I have a lot of sketches, drawings, doodles, and unfinished works--entirely Ovan centered--that I have had sitting in my ipad that I just never posted. I don't usually like to upload unfinished works or sketches but I'd like to start getting into the habit of it. Otherwise, they sit on my tablets and rot, and some of them are neat to look back on. Creative processes are fun to see!

Some of them are months old, others just don't have a date to really say how recent they were. Anyway, enjoy the light blog spam in the next few days as I gather all of these up and just dump them here.

[altschmerzes]

That Aragorn and Faramir fic idea you mentioned sounds really interesting! There's so many layers involved in those two and those around them, and it sounds like a concept you would really have fun with!

THANK YOU it’s so clear in my mind honestly. this moment in that in-between space where aragorn either comes to find him or runs into him and has the chance to talk with him for the first time - say, you know, it’s an honour to meet you. your brother spoke of you with great pride.

like. the kind of person aragorn is would be really fascinating to watch faramir figure out how to handle tbh. this is Thee Literal King, and he’s also the type of person who looks at the people around him with warmth and appreciation at all turns, who puts himself on the line beside them, who is compassionate and interested in people and like. offers people his respect. pretty much regardless of who they are, until they prove they do not deserve it.

and for faramir, who has been. well. look at all he’s been doing in pursuit of his father’s respect, his father’s love, all entirely in vain. and what came of it. he’s just narrowly survived an attempted murder/suicide, after the first time he was sent to his death for the crime of being the wrong son didn’t quite get him all the way dead. just mostly there. so he’s been suffering and bleeding and dying for the good opinion of the central authority figure in his life to absolutely no avail. and here’s the king. the literal whole king. who’s never met him before, and is now seeing him in this sorry state. who offers his good opinion freely and without hesitation.

i SIMPLY think there’s so much potential in that dynamic and i want to poke at it SO bad tbh

[nikholascrow]

headcanon that effie crochets and when sirius runs away to live with the potters she makes sirius and james blankets so they can always have something to comfort them when shes not around

she makes another for remus for full moons when he and sirius start dating

and another which she gives to a very confused regulus at the end of Christmas holiday on platform 9 3/4

one day regulus shows up on the potters’ doorstep after a particularly bad fight with his mom wrapped in the blanket

effie had only ever made the blankets so the boys would know they had a place to call home where they could be wrapped in her warm embrace instead of blankets

[myonmukyuu]

marker practice ayumu

[heavierthanlaila]

i wanna fall in love organically with an emotionally mature, cute-looking man. I want to find everything I'm looking for (in a man) in him. i want him to have wisdom and to know Allah and because he knows Allah and does everything for His sake he fears to displease Him so he never wrongs me or refuse to give me my rights. i want him to treat me like a human being. i want him to be empathetic. to know how to survive on his own so he doesn't starve to death if i was too busy to cook lol. i want a partner not a child. i want to be his wife not his mom. i want someone who learns from his experiences and grows with them. i want him to be my peace. my best friend. my increased strength. i want to worship allah together to the best of our abilities. to learn His book together. i want him to make me feel loved. chosen, purposefully. i want him to make me feel included. safe. so i can be my feminine self again. i want to be the best wife i could ever be for him. I want the little girl in me to feel seen. i dont want him to ever make me feel like a burden or my feelings are too much. i want him to submerge me with love. i want him to respect my boundaries. i want him to not be passive aggressive. i want to be able to say "big words" like passive aggressive with him. i want him not to be afraid of admitting he was wrong and apologizing. i want a man that plays no games. i want a man that knows what he wants and is not scared of communicating how he feels.

ahhh to have reciprocal love, i wonder how that feels.

[orcelito]

Man it does suck that ITNL keeps having such long hiatuses. Like it really isn't normal for me to completely disappear for a month or two (or three+) at a time with my writing. I just keep having to deal with all these fucking DEATHS. Wish I wasn't going on so many hiatuses, either.

[tenmissedcalls]

“i’m sorry,” they mutter, head buried in the dip of your shoulder, arms tightening around your waist to pull you closer. your hands come up to rest on their shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles into the tension pulling their muscles taut. you know that they don’t necessarily want reassurance, but it makes your chest ache to see them like this, worn out and utterly exhausted. 

“don’t be,” you reply, pressing a kiss onto the crown of their head, closing your eyes in relief when you feel their breathing slow down to match your own. 

this time their voice barely comes out as a whisper, syllables shaky from the strain of repressed tears. “i’m such a disappointment.”

it sends a pang straight through your heart, to think that they’re unable to see the absolute good in them, their unshakable kindness and dedication and intelligence. you wonder if they can’t see it, the utter adoration you hold for them and the love that overflows from the seams of your heart.

“hey, i don’t appreciate you talking about my partner like that,” you chide, a teasing lilt to your voice, but you can’t help the genuine concern that has your words drifting down at the edges when you say them. “they’re great, after all. always making me laugh, taking care of me, not to mention how pretty they are,” you continue, but you’re cut off by a muffled noise of protest. when you tilt their chin up with your hand, you can’t help but grin at their flustered expression, bottom lip pulled between their teeth. 

“so, so pretty. the prettiest, actually-” you continue, before their mouth is pressed against yours like you’re the air they need to breathe.

when they finally pull back ever so slightly to breathe, you whisper an i love you against their lips, and then another, and then another- and you think that one day, hand in yours, they’ll finally believe that they deserve it. 

[taegularities]

…

[famewolf]

actually used r*ddit for the first time in a thousand years just to comfort a self proclaimed 'grown ass man' regarding his feelings about feeling lost and grieving over the death of RT.

I usually stay away from commenting on public forums and the like, but he was clearly confused and didn't understand why he was hurting and it was frustrating him. it genuinely makes me so sad that a lot of cis men deeply struggle with allowing themselves to feel sadness if it doesn't directly relate to someone close to them dying.

and so I kind of said as much. told him that just because RT wasn't a real human doesn't mean that the decades of comfort it brought him didn't matter. that the brain doesn't differentiate between the loss of a person vs. the loss of something intangible that was still incredibly important.

told him to give himself the grace to grieve and be sad that something he loved was ending and that he wasn't the only one feeling that way. and surprisingly he replied and said he really needed to hear that, as did a couple of other dudes. which made me glad I said something. it sucks that they feel like they need permission or a reason to feel hurt/grief tho

there's definitely a strangeness to feeling grief over the end of media. but if it impacted your life for the better, then of course you're going to feel sad and lost. especially from folks you've been watching the better part of two decades.

[beregosts]

perhaps i am the silly goose for thinking it, but aren't characters like... way more interesting when they're not all-knowing, never less than impossibly hot, unparalleled in combat and never make a single mistake?