#or im miserable and want to die because i have no time and my body is being broken tf down and im constantly stressed and triggered tf out

[knifekris]

every day i struggle to make choices

[yappacadaver]

im really in my doomer shit today like damn. no hope no future huh. damn.

[kurv4]

how unreasonable of me is it to consider faking my death and running away to transition

[shippyo]

Question for life: What’s your relationship with Morpho?

[this ask will have my own lore related to Morpho hope ya all enjoy💖]

also,i think [this] soundtrack might fit🩷

Morpho...Yes, she is very special to me, she is my daughter, the first of all, I reborn her myself with my own hands,lemme tell you the story...

Before long,long ago in immemorial times, far from when it all began but close to the dawn of it, Morpho was another and a completely different being, a young girl from a world that feels lost even in my memory,that, somehow in a way that I have never known,fell to my dimension, wounded, confused, with living tears.

I remember that being when asked who I was and after I explained myself she told me

"Why have you been so cruel to me?"

That paralyzed me,i..i been cruel,it was the first i realized such thing that my whole existence is contradiction,i bring wonders yet suffering to all living beings,even if im not able to control what happens.

That poor being cried for every terrible misfortune that occurred in her life, abuse, wars, the fall of her world, she was still alive, of course, but she begged me not to return, not even to go to the afterlife and rest in peace, no, the pain that her tears brought was so breaking that she wanted to disappear from existence itself.

Obviously it's not something I wasn't going to do, I COULDN'T even if I can do it, it was unfair, it wasn't her fault that her life went so miserable to such disgrace thought in her mind came into it with no return to change it,she was lost, in exchange, I asked her permission to not go to such path, but rather be something new and somehow,she accepted, thinking that would end all.

In all honesty, at that moment I was not clear about the extent of my power, I knew that I had it and that I could do something outside of normal understanding for others but that pulse in me screamed for act different and so, I grabbed her face and my hands shone with intense light.

Without realizing it, the body disappeared when my palms closed, I felt fear for the first time thinking i destroyed her being, but I suddenly felt the flutter of a butterfly.

When I opened my hand, that butterfly that you all know so much came out and it didn't take long to complete its own metamorphosis as a new being.

The being before Morpho had disappeared, my power had a price to pay, in a way.

I don't know the reason but all those who are reborn from my hands forget in a certain way their old being, not as if it had never existed, they are not unconscious of what they experienced, but their souls feel pure,different and determined in wanting to defend life in being a new them, I feel them as an extension of me and they are condemned to a strange line where they cannot die for being so tied to me and yet even if she knew this she...

Looked at me happy, with a passion for living on her face that was not there before and thanked me for what I had done, although she felt sadness for her former self and her past,she now understood how beautiful it was to be there.

From there she named herself, "Morpho" and she felt indebted to me, although I did not want to,she insisted that to fight for me, defend, be the judge of beings of all those infinite dimensions, save others like who she was before, I do not like to feel that Im using her because I accepted her like some short of puppet, but even so, she has always seemed happy since then to serve me as a knight of life.

From then on, I was her mother and hundreds, billions like Morpho today are part of this family and I love them all equally.

Although...sometimes I wonder if I could use my power to reverse that strange "immortality" that ties them to me, I wish they could continue happy as they are now, but return to the mortality of life so that they finish their true cycle and not be attached to such tasks..I know I can and maybe one day I will have the courage to do it for the first time.

@kirbyoctournament

learn more of life lore [here!]

[hatsunemitskislobotomy]

˚ ༘♡ “ 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙’𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙞’𝙙 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ? ” ༊*·˚

“ every time i look into your eyes i feel it , you’re all i need ”

↳ ❝ ¡satoru gojo x fem reader— period pain comfort drabble because whewwww!❞

(:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

“i might die.”

“you won’t.”

“feels like i will.”

she laid on her stomach, the last thing she needed was to leak on top of her shitty pains.

“my poor baby.”

she let large hands rake through her hair with ease as she griped about her body turning on her.

“satoru…” she whined softly

“sorry sorry.” he knew better than to get handsy with her

not when she were currently taken by the electric heating pad that laid snug in between her and the mattress.

one couldn’t help but feel jealous, he wanted to be laid on top of.

“y’know i’m nice and warm too.” she could hear the pout in his tone

“first of all— liar.” she often wondered if his cool toned looks contributed to his lack of body heat

“second, you don’t have different modes of heat.”

“i can’t believe i have to share my girl with an inanimate object.” he grumbled

“im sorry toru… it’s only for a few days.”

because the first few days were always the worst. he’d have to watch her wither and groan in pain for a good 72 hours— she wouldn’t eat, she barely slept, all he could do is just lay idly by her side because god forbid he put her hands on her because she couldn’t stand to be touched during then.

he’d argue with her doctors to take his baby’s pain seriously, that period pains shouldn’t be that debilitating— there had to be something else but they’d just give him a sympathetic look.

what good was being the honored one throughout heaven and earth if he couldn’t even ease her pain?

“mmm, toru can you turn the heating pad up— pretty please?”

his pretty girl, he could never say no to her. if she asked him to level the world he just might.

he reached for the little mechanical remote that was attached to the pad only to frown.

“baby it’s already on the highest.”

“huh…”

but the frown persisted, he slid his hand where the heating pad met the bed before pulling his hand away quick with a hiss.

“ow— baby that’s burning.

“it’s nice like that.” she grumbled with a pout

but he was worried.

“baby get up real quick.”

he might as well have asked her to die.

“satoru…” her whine was pitiful

“i know i know just really quick.”

she looked like a kicked puppy as she shifted to prop herself on her knees. he moved the heating pad to the side as his hands hovered over the hem of her shirt.

“may i?” his gaze met hers

she nodded softly.

“thank you baby.”

he was met with a grunt.

he tried to keep his touch light but he was never really good at that, he was greedy like that. his love, his touch, heavy handed and consuming.

he pushed up her shirt gently revealing discolored scars littered across her stomach, mentally kicking himself for not noticing these sooner.

“baby you’re burning yourself, you’re not supposed to lie directly on the heating pad.”

“but i need to— it hurts so bad.”

his heart broke, another type of pain had to keep her debilitating one away.

he couldn’t let her stay like this.

using the consent he got from her earlier, he lifted her up with ease as he settled her back against his chest with his against the headboard.

“wha..? satoru…!” she squirmed in his hold

“shh baby i know, but that heating pad is hurting you— i ought to destroy it.” he bristled

“i shouldn’t be sitting down—“

he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“i’m gonna leak, i didn’t position my pad right—“

“then i’ll run you a bath.”

“it’ll get on the bed—!”

“i’ll wash the sheets.”

she let out a whine.

“why won’t you leave me to be miserable?”

her question earned her an assault of kisses.

“could never leave you baby.” he murmured into the crook of her neck

she let out a sigh.

“too nice to me.” she mumbled

“good.”

❀° ┄───╮

a/n: yall i almost forgot my roots as a jjk writer lolz

anyways this is based on true events without the giant white haired blue eyed freak (affectionately) there to care for me— life’s so hard man :(

uhhh what else… oh yeah don’t use past consent to act on present/future actions y’all consent is sexy 🫶🏾

that’s it, yall shall be hearing from me once school’s out LOVE U GUYS BYE MWAHHHHH

╰───┄ °❀

[nhescio]

Okay I have a visceral need for a hannigram time travel fic but instead of the typical Will or Hannibal fix-it, the person that time travels back is none other than Frederick fucking Chilton. Like imagine Chilton wallowing around all crispy and stuff after being human torched wondering what he’s done to deserve everything he’s been through. And when he’s finally okay enough to be discharged from the hospital to go home, an anvil falls on him or smth. And as he’s lying there incredulously, he’s like, yknow what? Im not even upset about this. I think Ive suffered enough near death experiences. Please just let this one put me out of my misery. And as his eyes finally drift shut, he hears an alarm blaring in his face. An alarm from his phone. His phone which, when he goes to shut it off, displays an impossible sequence of numbers— the plastic screen shinning with a date from four years past.

So after freaking out and confirming that he is indeed in the past, (and weeping in joy over his unmutilated body) Frederick does the obvious— he packs his bags, pays a visit to the bank, and gets on the next available flight out of the country.

And then his plane crashes and he dies.

But of course he doesn’t die because that seems to be a common theme in Frederick Chilton’s life!

So he’s jolting out of bed again to that same alarm and he tries not to tear his own face off (not that he would ever actually do that cause he knows how easily he could lose that precious face). And (after a few more tries) since this time loop bs isn’t letting him run away, he does the next best thing— phoning the FBI with a tip so that they would investigate Hannibal Lecter and put him behind bars for good. But of course Hannibal somehow finds out and discretely shakes the FBI off his trail while simultaneously sending one of his murderer protégés after Frederick. And so not even a month passes by before Frederick finds himself dying and waking to that infuriating alarm again.

And he keeps going through different loops trying to avoid being “murder tableau of the week”, but failing miserably every time. After dying for what feels like an infinite number of times, he’s realized two main consistencies. Number one, he can’t personally expose Hannibal Lecter as the ripper if he doesn’t want to be gutted, and two, the sooner Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter begin their weird courtship, whether from Frederick’s deliberate meddling or from ripples of unrelated actions, somehow he’s left with much less blood and chaos in the aftermath. In one incredible timeline, Frederick even managed to only sustain one life threatening disembowelment for three years before accidentally making a rude comment about Will Graham’s lack of a social life, thereby leading to a cold death in the Atlantic.

After this revelation, he vows to get Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter to bang each other as soon as possible for the sake of his own self preservation— going through elaborate plans like befriending and recruiting the FBI’s forensics team, or snapping Jack Crawford out of his obliviousness so he’d bluntly give them a nudge, or even once flirting with Will Graham himself to get Hannibal Lecter jealous (note: that attempt did NOT end up well).

And one day, after a shocked text from his “Sassy Science Matchmaking Squad” group chat proclaiming that Hannibal and Will, lovingly dubbed Hannigram by the group, had spontaneously quit their jobs and run away to Europe together, Frederick suddenly realizes he hasn’t been stabbed or burned or maimed or drowned or disemboweled once! He thinks back to his early success in this timeline— silently high fiving with Beverly and Jimmy (Zeller, the spoilsport, had refused to partake) while voyeuristically watching Will and Hannibal shyly having their first kiss in the shadows of a filthy crime scene. In fact, he didn’t think anyone in their immediate circle had been stabbed or burned or maimed or drowned or— well you get the point.

And as one year turns to two to four to eight with no word from Hannibal or Will except the occasional postcard, a sort of cautious optimism starts building in Frederick’s heart. The years continue to fly by until one day, Frederick finds that his hair has turned a snowy white, and that his legs are too weak to support his aching body. He tries to take in a breath to laugh but it comes out as a wheeze. He’s at the end of the line once more, but this time at the end of a healthy, fulfilling life. His only wish is that he’s finally allowed to move on. And as he feels his life slowly drifting away from him, Frederick wonders if he’s accomplished whatever divine mission that godforsaken time loop had wanted him to complete. It really feels like he did the best he could this life, preventing every possible death on the East Coast by sending Hannibal and Will packing early. Sure, he feels bad for the poor suckers in Florence or Paris that were probably flambéed for a pretentiously fancy brunch, but realistically, those two would always leave a body count no matter where they went.

All Frederick wants now is to pass in peace. With a heavy sigh, Frederick willingly closes his eyes one last time, content to move on into whatever lies in the beyond.

And he dies. For real this time. Woohoo!

The End

[anxious-witch]

So a continuation of this soulmate poly! JO au

So! Again, this is not my usual high quality stuff, isn't beta read or edited and I have been feeling kinda eh about writing lately so...yeah. Be warned before going into it. But so many of your wanted some sort of conclusion so I had to give you one. I hope it's at least somewhat satisfying.

This needed a warning for vomitting not the last one my bad, also TW for Bojan's general low self esteem

Bojan wasn't feeling well. And it wasn't only because he was hungover from the whole spiked drink yesterday. No. It was also due to the fact that now they all knew that he was their fifth soulmate.

He woke up surrounded by three of them. Jure was curled around his right side, with Kris' arm thrown over both him and Bojan. Bojan was snuggled in Jan's chest and Jan's hand protectively hovered over his head.

Nace was probably already up. Bojan laid there fir a moment. Soaking in the warmth. For once, his soulmark didn't ache but instead hummed pleasantly. 

It felt so natural, it was hard to remember why he was so scared of it. 

Then a sudden nausea hit him and he had to practically launch himself from the bed. Jan stirred and sleepily called out to him, but Bojan didn't turn. He ran to the bathroom, just in time to throw up in the toilet.

He wasn't sure how he ended up on his knees and gripping the toilet. He also wasn't sure when Jan joined him by sitting on the floor and rubbing his back. 

Only when he stopped throwing up for more than a few seconds did he lean more into the comforting touch. 

"Aren't you supposed to be angry at me?" Bojan mumbled tiredly.

"Oh, I am furious," Jan said easily, "I just don't see the point of having this conversation until you feel better."

Bojan made a pityful sound, closing his eyes. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, his soulmark ached. He just wanted to die.

"You might as well. I am feeling miserable anyway. We can go for full physical and emotional destruction."

Jan sighed and gently ran his head through Bojan's hair. 

"Kris went to make you tea and Jure to dig out some painkillers. Nace will probably make something to eat when he comes back from his run, if he hasn't already."

Jan scratched his scalp, like he was a dog. It was pleasant though and Bojan couldn't help but let iut a sigh and lean into it. 

"I don't deserve you guys."

The fingers in his hair froze. You said something stupid again, Bojan's mind hissed.

"We'll talk about that too."

"I'm sorry."

Jan continued stroking his hair, but didn't reply. Bojan's soulmarked burned like a brand. He hates you, he hates you, he will never forgive you-

Kris arrived at that moment, taking in their state. His eyes softened as he watched them.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. I don't know if you are asking physically or mentally, but the answer is the same."

Kris crouched down and gently put his hand on Bojan's forehead. His eyes fluttered shut at the gesture.

"You don't have a temperature," he mused, "which means just a bad hangover. You should come back to bed. I bought a bucket if you are sick again. And there is tea and painkillers. Nace is making pancakes too."

Bojan felt a sudden pressure of tears. Why were they all so nice? So considerate? Shouldn't they be yelling and demanding an explanation? He felt like he'd prefer that. It was what he deserved.

"Bojan, hey, what's wrong? Does something hurt?"

Kris gentle voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he realized he was crying. He shook his head and covered him face. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Why wre you all being nice? Why aren't you yelling at me? Why-"

"Shhh." 

Kris hugged him to his chest and Bojan's body shook im his embrace. He kept a litany of apologies through the sobs.

"Jan, go tell Nace to finish pancakes later. I will get Bojan to the bedroom. I think we all need to talk first."

Jan probably nodded, because Bojan heard him get up and step out of the bathroom. Then Kris gently picked him up. Bojan didn't even complain, simply buried his face in Kris' chest. 

He carried him to the bedroom.

"What happened? Is he alright?"

Bojan's heart squeezed at Jure's worried tone, but he didn't feel capable of answering. Which was why he was thankful for Kris.

"I am not sure. He started apologizing and then burst into tears. I think everything is hitting him just now. And you know how the bond can be overwhelming at first."

When he put Bojan on the bed, Jure curled at his back. Bojan reached out with one hand to him. 

And Jure took it, interlacing their fingers. His and Kris' presence calmed him down slightly. Enough for him to stop babbling apologies at least, if not stop crying yet. 

"Oh, Bojan," he heard Nace say from further away. 

Then two more bodies joined the pile. Bojan could recognize each, despite having his face buried in Kris's chest. 

That slowly made him calm down enough to stop the tears and carefully pull back from Kris' chest.

Kris didn't let him go far, gripping his waist when he tried to. Which was ridiculous, because they all surrounded him. He cleared his throat, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Right. Can we just…get this over with, please?”

“Get it over with?” Jan hissed.

Bojan flinched a bit at his tone, ducking down to hide in Kris’ chest again.

“Jan,” Nace chastised him from somewhere behind his back, “Let's try and do this calmly.”

Jure squeezed his hand and then Jan swore, almost as if someone elbowed him.

“Fine.”

“Bojan, could you sit up, please?” Nace asked.

Did he have much of a choice at this point? Bojan sat up, suddenly much more aware of four pairs of eyes watching him.

He stubbornly stared into his lap.

“Tell us what happened,” Jure urged gently. 

“I was at the bar, I was flirting with a guy. He drugged my drink.”

Jan sighed loudly, but it was Kris who spoke up.

“That's not what we are asking. We want to know why you don't want us.”

That made him snap his head up, staring at Kris in disbelief. Kris, who was biting his lip and looked incredibly close to tears.

“What? I never said that!”

“You made it quite clear.”

Bojan felt as if he'd been slapped. He could take them being angry, or even saying they don't want him anymore, but he couldn't take them thinking he didn't want them.

“That's not true at all! Of course I want you!”

Kris did not look particularly convinced, hunching in on himself. Bojan met Jan's eyes instead.

“Then why didn't you say anything? Jesus, Bojan Kris knows you for a decade.”

“Because by the time I realized, the two of you were already together! And then I couldn't say anything because I thought that if you had each other, why would you want me?”

Jan took in a sharp breath and Kris paled noticeably, but Bojan wasn't done. He turned his eyes to Jure.

“So I kept silent, until Jure came along. And then he fit right in. Not just in the band, but with the two of you. And I thought, fuck, I'm too late. So I didn't say anything again. By the time Nace came into the picture, I-I had no idea what to do. Besides, we all know I would ruin this.”

Jure crossed the distance between them in a second, practically launching himself towards Bojan and pulling him into a hug. 

“Never,” Jure said vehemently.

Bojan felt a sudden wave of love wash over him. It took him a second to realize it wasn't coming from him, but from the Jure's side of the bond.

It was enormous and overwhelming and Bojan was completely unprepared for it. Which made panic seize his chest. 

Then, Nace was there, putting a hand on the back of his neck.

“Breathe. I know it's overwhelming at first, but just breathe through it. Jure, back up a bit he isn't used to the bond yet.”

The sensation eased up a bit, even if Jure didn't let go of him. Bojan took in a shaky breath. 

“Why do you think you'd ruin it?” Kris asked after a moment. 

Feeling their emotions in tandem with their words was new. Even without prying, he could feel hurt and worry from Kris. Bojan realized with a pang that that meant they could feel the turmoil of his emotions, too.

This was exactly what he wanted to spare them from.

“Because of this! I am difficult to deal with. I know all of you know it, because you had to deal with me. But that's different from being in a relationship with me. Kris met like, all of my girlfriends, he can testify.”

Jure's arms tighten against him, paired up with a slight pang of annoyance. Bojan bit his lip to stop himself from apologizing. They should be aware of what they were getting into.

He expected Kris to look angry or maybe defeated, but instead he looked thoughtful. 

“From what I remember of that, the biggest issue was you putting us and the band in general before them. Which wouldn't be a problem here, would it?”

Bojan stared. He never thought of it like that. 

“That's still not a good idea. I am difficult to deal with. You'll get tired of me.”

Jan snorted and Bojan turned to glare. Jan met his gaze calmly.

“Right. Because before this we never took care of you being sick every two to three weeks? Nace didn't calm you when you got panic attacks? Jure and I don't regularly feed you because you are unable to cook more than two meals? Kris doesn't have your schedule memorized and reminds you of what you need to do?”

Bojan felt as if Jan's gaze was burning through him, right into his soul. He ducked his head. Except, Jan reached out and Jure moved, curling at his left so Jan could tilt Bojan's chin up. 

“Look at me.”

So Bojan did, a zing of electricity going down his spine as he did so. Any rational argument he had got thrown outside of the window.

“You borrow our clothes and you cuddle with us and we are all together almost 24/7. Why the fuck would that change if we were in a relationship with you?”

Bojan opened and closed his mouth several times, feeling as if Jan had just knocked out all the cards from his hands. Like all the insecurities that held him back were insignificant in the face of Jan's argument.

His head suddenly started hurting even more and he closed his eyes.

“I don't know.”

“Alright. Postponing the rest of this for later. Bojan, go brush your teeth, we'll bring tea and painkillers in the meantime.”

Leave it to Kris to organize everything in a second. 

“Can't I get a coffee?” Bojan asked, peering at him and pointedly avoiding Jan's gaze.

“After we are sure you won't throw up again. Do you need help getting up?”

Jan finally let go of his chin and Bojan tried not to feel disappointed. He never kissed any of them properly, it was always something for the cameras. 

He wondered what it would be like to kiss them for real. 

That thought scared him enough to jolt him into action and he quickly got up from the bed. Too quickly, since dark spots began to dance in his vision.

Nace swore and reached out to steady him. 

“I'll go with him-”

“No,” Jan interrupted, “you go finish those pancakes. I got him.”

Bojan tensed. It wasn't that he didn't trust Jan, because he did. He trusted all of them with his life. The thing was, Jan seemed the most angry out of all of them and he didn't sugarcoat anything. Bojan wasn't sure how being alone with him would go.

No one protested though, Kris simply exchanged a long look with Jan and then nodded.

Bojan wondered if that simply cane with sharing a bond for so long and then he suddenly felt very, very lonely.

So he didn't protest when Jan took Nace's place and led him to the bathroom. He took his toothbrush and brushed his teeth. Jan walked closer and took his own, so they both brushed their teeth and Bojan tried not to think about how domestic that felt.

That distracted him enough for him not to notice that the toothbrush was the exact same one he had at home until after he finished.

“Since when does Nace have everyone's spare toothbrush?”

“Since we all started dating?”

Bojan started at Jan through the mirror. Jan calmly washed his mouth with water. 

“I haven't been dating you.”

Jan sighed as he stood upright again and put his toothbrush back where it belonged.

“No. But even before the soulmark, you were always considered welcome. I think…on some level we all knew.”

Bojan swallowed against sudden urge to cry again. 

“I should have known. The way you looked when we saw Nace's mark, I-”

“Don't say that. You didn't know because I didn't want you to. It's not your fault.”

Jan gave him a wry smile, shaking his head.

“Isn't it? Maybe if we figured it out sooner, you wouldn't think you were unwanted. For seven years, apparently.”

Jan's emotions were more guarded than Kris’ and yet, Bojan could practically taste the bitterness and hurt pouring from him. 

Bojan couldn't help but reach for him, but as soon as he touched his arm, Jan tensed. 

“I'm sorry. It-it's not your fault, okay? I promise.”

Jan pursed his lips.

“If you say so.”

He stepped closer then closer again, until their chests were almost touching. Jan didn't stop him, but also didn't make any moves towards him, either.

Bojan cupped his face and pressed his lips to his anyway, trying to pour all his mixed feelings into it. Then Jan moved, pinning him back against the sink. Bojan gasped and Jan took that opportunity to deepen the kiss.

There was so much longing in the kiss, Bojan kept trying to pull him closer, making a protesting noise when Jan pulled back.

“This is a bad idea. We need to talk this through first.”

“Oh.”

Jan was probably right. It was not a good idea, especially with the mess of emotions Bojan was feeling. Still, it was difficult not to feel a pang of disappointment. He felt…rejected.

He nodded and hung his head low.

“Fuck. Bojan that isn't-Hey.”

Jan lifted his chin once more and Bojan shivered. Something about the gesture made Bojan feel very small in comparison. 

“I am not rejecting you. This is just because I don't want to take this too far before you feel secure in the bond, okay?”

Bojan swallowed and watched and Jan's eyes traced the movement.

“Okay.”

Jan took in a deep breath and then took a step back. Then he extended his hand out to Bojan.

“Com'on now. The others are waiting.”

Then he was tugged back into the bedroom. Jure and Kris were sitting on the bed and talking quietly, while Nace still didn't return. They went quiet once they entered and Bojan tried not to fidget.

“Don't stop on my account,” he mumbled, trying to get under the covers.

Perhaps he could suffocate himself under the blankets.

“Wait! The painkillers!”

Bojan stopped halfway, and Kris handed his the painkillers and the water. He tried not to make a face at being treated like a child. Firstly Jan with pulling back and now the rest of them eith treating him like he was fragile. They cared and objectively, he was aware he scared them last night.

So he took them and handed the glass back to Kris. Then he got under the covers and buried his face into a pillow.

“Why is he sulking?” Kris asked, directing the question at Jan.

“He kissed me and I said I don't want things to escalate until he feels comfortable with the bond.”

“He wasn't too happy about that, huh?”

Bojan was about to snap at them for talking like he wasn't there, but then another person shuffled under the covers and pulled him closer. Jure.

Jure's emotions were always on the surface and Bojan could feel them much easier than Jan's. There was a sense of deep contentment that he didn't expect.

Jure pressed a kiss into his hair and Bojan felt his annoyance begin to dissipate. Kris shuffled closer and began petting his hair and-yeah, okay, he could get used to that.

He was starting to drift when Nace came back, announcing that the pancakes were done. Bojan groggily got up, rubbing at his eyes.

“You can eat later if you are tired,” Nace said with such a soft look, Bojan felt the need to squirm.

“But I want pancakes,” he protested.

Jan laughed.

“Just let him eat. Maybe that'll wake him up.”

Bojan glared.

“Maybe now I won't go exactly because of that.”

Jan smirked.

“Well good thing we can all carry you then, no?”

“No-”

Nace crossed the room in a few steps and picked him up as if he weighed nothing. Bojan squealed. He knew Nace could pick him up, but actually being picked up was quite different.

He wrapped his arms around Nace's neck, even if he was pretty sure Nace wouldn't drop him.

“Rude,” he mumbled in his neck. 

He was lulled once again into a feeling of contentment that simply radiated from the bond. Was it supposed to feel like that? Did it always feel like that for them? 

Nace gently dropped him in a chair at the dining table. Bojan absent mindedly reached for the pancakes while the others all took their seats.

“Does it always feel like that? The bond, I mean.”

Kris cocked his head.

“How does it feel?”

“Content. Calming. Like…things clicked in place.”

Kris’ gaze softened. 

“Not quite. There was always something missing. Like the connection flowed between the four of us and then it just…hit a wall.”

“Oh.”

Bojan fidgeted with his knife before anxiously taking the jam and smearing it over the pancake. He wasn't sure what to say.

“We have been waiting for you,” Nace added softly.

And this, this was exactly what Bojan wanted to avoid. He covered his face, willing himself not to cry again.

“This is why I didn't say anything. I don't-I can't complete you.”

“You already do.”

He began shaking his head, but then Kris was gently pulling his hands away from his face.

“We already acted like you are a part of this relationship, excluding kissing and sex. You already cuddle and steal all of our clothes. You hate being alone so you are in one of our apartments half the time. You already act like you are our boyfriend, this is just a confirmation you belong with us.”

Bojan felt speechless again. So he did one thing he could think about at that moment. He kissed him.

This kiss was much softer than the one he shared with Jan. Kris kissed almost hesitantly, as if not believing he was real. When Bojan tried to press harder, someone cleared their throat and Kris pulled away.

Of course it was Jan.

“Still not a great idea Bojči,” he reminded him.

Bojan stared at Kris, who was still kneeling by his chair, looking a bit dazed.

“Maybe not such a bad idea, if it'll help convince him,” Nace said, shrugging, “But we should wait until after breakfast.”

Bojan's brain came to a screeching halt.

“C-convince me?”

Jure sighed.

“That we want you. Obviously.”

Bojan swallowed. Don't think about it. But Kris was already kneeling and-

“Kris, go sit in your chair before Bojan has another crisis. And let's just finish eating first, yeah? Then we can discuss other things.”

He felt his cheeks heat at Jan's words and Jure chuckled. Kris simply rolled his eyes and went to take his seat.

They all began to eat and Bojan just tried to take everything in as they fell into easy conversation like nothing had happened.

His world tilted on its axis and…kept spinning, almost exactly the same as it had before. And surely, this would change things. Perhaps even his fears would be confirmed with time.

But for now, Bojan sat with four of his soulmates that he loved more than anyone else and simply let himself breathe.

Bojan was born with four stripes on his stomach. Yellow, red, purple and blue. And for the first time, his pink joined into the rainbow it created.

[bulldagger-bait]

Went on a date and they were like "I'm sorry you're disabled". My first thought was to get frustrated or feel patronised, but, that doesn't get us anywhere. So i thought about it and tempered my reaction, and what I came to was this: they're sad, but I'm not!

I understand the impulse to feel bad about my life situation. I get it. It sucks. Like objectively. It bums me out too sometimes.

But im not sorry I'm disabled, I'm happy I'm alive! Im happy with disability, not in spite of it. It's a part of my life. I can no more be miserable about my disability than I can be about getting a bad haircut. It's a part of me and I can either live with it, or I can suffer. If those are my options i choose live with it. Its really that simple and drastic.

Disability means pain, yes, but pain does not mean suffering. I am in pain every day of my life, but I do not suffer. How does that work? I live my life. I live! Isn't that wonderful? I am alive and I have a good, privileged life! I have friends. I have community. I have family. I have passions. So long as i can find the good, I am not focused on my pain, and if i am not focused on my pain it cannot consume me, and if it cannot consume me then I cannot suffer.

My disability is just another thing that is part of me. I don't look at what I can't do. I look at what I want to do, and I find a way to get there.

My life looks different from an able bodied person's life. It just does, and it always will. It's going to be different. I can either embrace it, or I can be miserable. I can either live with it or i can suffer.

I choose to embrace it. I choose to live with it.

It wasn't easy to do so, don't get me wrong. I was miserable for such a long time. I wanted to die; I wanted to die so badly. I thought there was no worth in my life and that I'd never be worth anything. But that's not true.

My life is beautiful. It's not exactly what i wanted for myself, and yeah, if i could wave a magic wand and be in a perfect body... I wouldnt even hesitate to take that option. But that's not gonna happen. So i look at what I have, and I'm so grateful to have it in the first place.

I could be so much worse off. Im fortunate. Im lucky. Im an immigrant success story. I live in a better land. Im happy here. Im well integrated. This place is my home. My country looks after me. I dont want for food. I dont want for shelter. Thats amazing. So if I can look at the little things that im grateful for and build from there...

I dont have all the abilities i want. I will never have everything I want, no matter how simple it may seem. So instead, I will be grateful for what I do have.

Im not sorry i'm im a wheelchair! Im happy! How many people in the world dont have a wheelchair who need one? Im fortunate to have one. My wheelchair is freedom. My world opened up when i got my wheelchair the same way it did when i got my licence.

My life may be sad to you, but its not sad to me. And if its not sad to me, then its not sad! You dont have to feel sad for someones disability. I think its natural to want them to be able to do the same things you can, or to achieve the same things you can. I think you should foster that desire into finding ways to help bridge the gap between what someone can do and what they cant. Access is how you bridge that gap.

Feeling sad for someone with disability is a natural empathetic response. I think its wrong to shame people for it, but it is worth it to redirect their thinking. They are sad for me, but its because they can only see limits. But disability isnt about seeing limits, its about finding out how to move past them.

My life might look sad to you, but you dont know what i can do. You dont know how far ive come. You dont know what my life looks like beyond my disability because you've never been shown that. Its not a story thats told. And i dont mind showing you that theres more to my story than what i cant do.

So, i dont mind if someone tells me theyre sorry im in a wheelchair. Im not. Lets get past that impulse of empathy, and have a real conversation. Because you'll see that i'm not sad. I have a rich life and im happy. Once you can see all that joy, the wheelchair becomes secondary. Of course i'm happy, my life is good.

The wheelchair. The disability. Its set dressing. Its the stage my life takes place on. We cant ignore it. Its there. But it is not so big that it robs goodness from my world.

Am I happy about having my disability? No. But I'm not sad about it. Not anymore.

And that is going to be true about any other disabled person you meet. We dont need pity, because our lives dont warrant it. We dont need you to feel bad for us, because there is no need to feel bad. Its just life. Thats how it goes sometimes.

Once a disabled person's hit the acceptance stage, there's really no need to offer them your sympathies anymore. Be happy with them in their life, however that looks.

[goodoldwritings]

can I request Nyanlathotep x Reader where the reader doesn't believe in love and denies loving anyone.

Part 1! Because im taking far too long to write this.

It was not specified if the reader is meant to be human or an eldritch entity- nor if they're supposed to actually love or not so I'm going to take creative liberties with this, so if you meant something else send it again and ill re-write it! Thank you for being my very first request!

Warnings:

Spoilers for Sucker for love: date to die for.

Summary:

Nyanlathotep/Nyan Nyan x Reader who claims to not believe in any kind of love.

You were a success in life, richer than you could ever need, graduated to a good school and with heavy government influence under your belt; but most proudly you hold title to leadership to an ancient cult older than all mankind's civilized settlements across the world. The cult of Nyanlathotep was your only loyalty, tadked arranging your peons as the entity needed to whisper into the ears of leaders and stir fear into the population.... With the occational bloody sacrifice from time to time.

Yet none of of this success was by your own hands, Except... one thing. In the very begining as a dull eyed indoctrinated newcomer you were determined to carve your place in this cult, from the day you were accepted by the darkness you devoted your life to the faceless clawing chaos. The mindset you learned over time was to crush others before they crushed you, do anything to get to the top, kill if you needed to and always have eyes on your own back for anyone willing to betray you for the same reasons; This is how you came to lead the secret society.

Thinking about this you toy with the sparkling pendant around your neck, it is an Egyptian scarab that suspiciously looked like a golden pet collar bell to you... but it was an artifact theorized to be made by Nyanlathoteps hands and you wouldn't dare part with it for a simple comparison.

It was raining outside, pattering against the window of your high steel perch in your penthouse office making for a decent environment to self reflect but now that you're out of your own head you see something else has been with you, watching you like you had been watching the rain. For a solid uneasy minute you stared with a confused furrowed brow as a black cat is sat on the railing of the balcony; With such heavy rain you reasoned the cat must be miserable and against your better judgement pushed the door open a crack in case it wanted to come inside to warm itself.

" Just, don't piss on the carpet. " You spoke, turning away from the door to seat yourself at your desk, sighing at the papers scattered on it.

"I wouldn't dream of it, this is 17th century Iranian silk, is it not?"

For some reason you are about to open your mouth to answer when you register the fact you should be alone and quickly look up, finding no one there, not even the cat but strangely the door the cat came through is politely closed.

"You look so confused, does the pet not recognize its master? "

This time as the voice speaks it is close behind your head, but the primal prey-like dread holding your body stiff is familar yet far more intense than you had experienced within any ritual you have conducted. It feels like ice water is coursing through your blood and your mind is clawing at itself like a rabid animal; yet you find the syllables among the symptoms.

" -Nyanlathotep. "

You whisper as two large hands rest on your shoulders in a friendly manner. A deep chuckle rumbling from the entity's chest, amused by your frail humanity crumbling by her presence.

" So your soul recognizes what your eyes and ears do not... you've felt this energy before- but no where near my unfiltered presence, I'm sure. "

Taking a deep breath you steel your nerves and brace your very anatomy against imploding in the clawed hands of an ancient old god as you turn to get a look at Nyanlathotep. She isn't what you expected at all: a towering height threatening to hit the ceiling fixture, clad in white and gold Egyptian fashioned accessories. blue(I'm a tad color blind I think she's blue) fur not touched by the cold water of the rain outside... cat girl. She must have seen your expression as she tilts her head, amused, putting her hands together in a way where her fingers interlock with eachother.

" That face is unfit for greeting an old loved one.~ Not to mention you haven't offered me a drink or a place to sit which is bad hosting. "

This prompted you to stand and offer your office chair as a seat for the entity of your worship, not that it helped with her looming given it didn't come close to putting you two at eye level as she settled in your chair. " Not to be rude... but what do you want? " She made you uncomfortable as she mentioned your worship as love, pondering what angle the old god was attempting.

Nyanlathotep did not answer but opened one of the drawers of your desk, somehow pulling a kettle and a tea cup from inside despite you knowing there should only be files inside-

" Do I have to want something?" Nyanlathotep purred, pouring herself a cup of tea black as tar and just as goopy in texture... to you it looked disgusting, smelling similar to an electrical fire and plopping into the porcelain like partially solidified grease.

" Well I really doubt you'd come to me for a simple chat and a game of checkers- "

"I prefer chess." Nyanlathotep corrected, somehow sipping the dreadful 'tea' without a mouth or facial features to speak of "...but I will admit; you're right, there isn't much we could talk about I haven't heard before. Small talk is incredibly dull after the first few millenia of hearing the same thing again and again."

She took another sip of her concoction, keeping your attention in the moment of silence before she kept speaking. " It is within my interest that by your age you haven't found a mate yet. You know very well my most loyal followers are generational and your bloodline is a ticking clock at this rate."

" Not interested. " You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms like a defiant teenager, wrinkling your formal suit jacket with how tightly your arms are linked together.

"Are you one of those Ace of hearts, so to speak, Pet ?" She spoke casually but perhaps with an old term you haven't heard of- gesturing with her hand with uncertainty given gender and sexuality is a human concept as eldritch creatures do not abide by such things.

" I'm just not interested in relationships- People in general are a pain, Partners or friends, kids, any of them...! I don't do relationships. "

Scoffing Nyanlathotep finally makes eye contact with you, the gaze piercing your very soul, unamused by your claim. "How stoic of you but you neglect the known fact: humans are a social species of apes that require companionship to survive. " it felt as if you are being scolded like a child who needs to eat their vegetables for their own good... but you stood firm staring chaos in her single gold eye. As you both stared It did not escape her discernment that you were in a sorry state: Rude, unfriendly, unbrushed hair with only a cup of coffee in your gut and a chronically suffering insomniac- so it seemed accurate you didn't socialize.

"I'll fix you myself then. "

[genshin-impact-writings]

hi, can i request the good ol' "treating their wounds" trope with childe? (help im a sucker for it) it'd be nice if you could write a drabble, but a headcanon is also fine ! you seem like a sweet person ngl and i adore your writings <33

It's embarrassing how long this request has been sitting in my inbox, and I'm so sorry that it took me so long to finally write this because it's literally one of my favorite tropes ever. If you're still around, anon, I really hope you enjoy this! <3

Notes: mentions of blood and injuries, reader is a healer and has a cryo vision

Safe in my hands – Childe x gn!reader 

It’s already dark outside when a knock on your door interrupts your quiet and peaceful evening. For a moment, you consider to ignore whoever’s outside of your hours right now but when they knock again, more impatiently this time, you sigh and put your book down. Another knock, and you make your way to the hallway, ready to bite the head of your unexpected visitor off as you fling the door open. But the words die on your tongue when you recognize Childe – or rather, the state he’s in. He’s barely able to keep himself upright, clutching his ribs, and his clothes are drenched in blood. Still, he somehow manages to crack a smile. “I know it’s late,” he says and lets out a shaky breath, “but I think I need your help.”

You’re too stunned to speak, so you just drag him inside and shut the door. It’s not the first time he shows up at your doorstep, bleeding and beaten, but it’s most definitely the first time that his injuries are this bad. Archons, you really hope your abilities are good enough to help him.

“I hope this is not your blood,” you say in a miserable attempt to ease the tension that fills your small living room. Childe shakes his head and laughs, a laugh that quickly turns into a cough, and your heart sinks. “You really need to stop being so reckless.”

“Are you worried about me, comrade?”

“No, I’m more worried about the fact that you keep ruining my furniture.” It feels awful to crack jokes in a situation like this but you need to distract yourself from freaking out. Childe is your friend, and it hurts to see him like this. It hurts to know that he’s reckless enough to risk his life just for the thrill of battle. If he continues like this, he’ll get himself killed sooner or later, you’re sure. One day, you might not be able to save him.

But today, you can, so you push these thoughts to the back of your mind and help him take off his jacket. It’s ruined, as well as his maroon colored shirt, but you honestly couldn’t care less about his clothes, especially now that you can clearly see the severity of his injuries to the full extent. His upper body is covered in several cuts and bruises, and his ribcage is bruised as well. 

“Not looking too good, hm?” Childe asks, though he probably already knows the answer. With a sigh, you say, “Nothing I can’t deal with. I’ll get a cloth and some water. Some of these cuts look really nasty. Wait here.”

It doesn’t take long to fetch everything you need in your kitchen. When you return to the living room, Childe forces himself to smile once again. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Don’t mention it,” you say as you start to clean a particularly deep cut on his chest. “Now, do you want to tell me what happened out there?”

“Fatui business,” is all he replies, and you nod. He never tells you anything about his work. At first, it has irritated you because you were convinced that he didn’t trust you but now, you know that he keeps his silence to protect you. After all, it’s dangerous to get involved with the Harbingers. 

“Okay,” you say and put the cloth aside, “I’m going to heal this cut first, and then I’ll take care of your ribs. Alright?”

He nods. “You’re the healer, comrade. I trust you.”

You take a deep breath and let your hand hover over the cut, focusing on your ability to speed up the cell growth. The injury is bad but you’ve seen worse during the time you have worked as the Milleliths’ healer, and soon enough, the wound stops bleeding, giving you the opportunity to examine it further. It’s already looking a lot better but healing it completely will take a while. “This might hurt,” you warn him, “but afterwards, you’ll feel a lot better.”

He doesn’t flinch, not even once, but the way he presses his lips together is enough to tell you that he’s in pain. “Comrade, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Shut up. I need to focus.”

A few minutes go by, silence settling in until you pull your hand away and let out a sigh of relief. “There,” you say, “as good as new. What about your ribs?”

“I don’t think they’re broken,” Childe replies and sits up, only to let himself fall back against the backrest of your couch, “but they sure hurt.”

“I can help with that.” You suck your lower lip between your teeth, trying very hard not to lose your focus, as you summon Cryo to your fingertips and gently press them against his bruised skin. He hisses in pain but soon enough, you feel his tense muscles relax beneath your touch, and he closes his eyes, a relieved sigh escaping his slightly parted lips.

“Better?” you ask, softly. 

“Yeah. Thank you.”

A smile flashes over your face. A smile that quickly fades when you realize that his body is covered in scars, a clear sign that he has been in this spot way too often already. It’s not a deliberate action, nothing you have planned to do, but you raise your hand and carefully trace the faded scar that spreads across his chest. Childe stays perfectly still but you can feel his racing heartbeat underneath your fingers. 

“What happened there?” you ask, your voice barely louder than a whisper. Childe turns his head away to avoid your gaze. “The Abyss isn’t exactly a friendly place – especially not when you’re a foolish and overconfident kid.”

Your heart is resting flat on his chest now, right above his heart, your touch still so gently that he feels like he’s going to melt right on the spot. He can’t remember the last time someone has cared about him in the way you do. He knows he should probably pull away but something in him craves this, craves the feeling of security and peace only you can give him. And so, he doesn’t pull away.

Moving your other hand to the back of his neck, you guide him forward until your forehead is pressed against his and the tips of your noses brush together every time one of you moves. This close to him, it’s almost impossible to ignore the rose-colored blush that’s dusting his freckled cheeks, and judging from the way his ocean blue eyes widen just the tiniest bit, he’s well aware of that, too. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” you say quietly. “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to deal with all of that.”

Childe lets out a shaky breath. It’s rare that he’s at a loss for words but in that moment, it’s like has lost the ability to form a proper sentence. He doesn’t know if it’s because you’re still so close to him or because he’s so taken aback by the fact that you genuinely care about him, despite everything he has done in the past. Most people don’t like being around him, even his parents and older siblings have distanced themselves from him after he joined the Fatui, and sometimes he just feels terribly lonely. 

“I’m fine now,” he whispers – and he means it. Here with you, he feels at ease, like nothing else matters, and this time, his smile is genuine. “All thanks to you.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it please consider liking, reblogging and/or leaving feedback. I'd really appreciate the support!

Taglist: @genshinparty @kaeyas-beloved @ajaxstar @caesars-bubbles @the-gayest-sky-kid

[tododeku-or-bust]

Gonna start out with im white but tbh thats probably obvious so like. You rbed an interview about Miles G's hair and ive been wondering

Are there specific stereotypes to certain black hairstyles? Im curious bc i do character design a lot, and tbh ive always thought the double braids was a really cool look, are there implications to it? Or is it just regular racism from nonblack people that make some view it as "thug" as opposed to just a normal hairstyle.

Like when i was little i used to have my hair like that all the time, and i still do it sometimes bc its really good for hot weather, so i kinda associate it more with beating the heat/good hairstyle for when you're gonna get sweaty than anything else lol

🤣 it tis obvious, but I'm gonna answer this for you and anyone else who wants to start looking into it bc yes this is very important. So let's talk about it!

(this became a history lesson I did not mean to give lmaoooo)

The CROWN Act

PBS Transcript- How Hair Discrimination impacts Black Americans...

So first, to be frank: it's Racism. Understand that this shit is rooted in White Supremacy towards any nonwhite hair. I'm also approaching this from a Black American standpoint. While I won't be discussing their perspective bc it's better for one of them to do it, Native Americans also have a long history of White society forcing them to cut their hair, regardless of the religious/spiritual/symbolic importance. It, and its damage, lasts til today. And head wraps? Psht almost all of Brown America has a story.

In the beginning, they had enslaved Black women (and then through Jim Crow) cover their hair altogether. It was somehow seen as a way to protect property, then to call our hair ugly and an affront to whiteness, and yet a Jezebel lure for White men to sin (i.e. rape Black women, but White women didn't think that was possible so it HAD to be that concubine!!) This perception lasts to this day. Later, it turned into Assimilation or die- hair presses and conks to better meet white beauty standards. Being proud of our afros and natural hair had a revival in the 60s and 70s, and (this is subjective) i noticed it again in the 2010s with women and natural hair.

To present: You gotta realize that having afros, cornrows, braids, and locs is enough to get Black kids kicked out of some schools and extracurriculars. An entire education or valuable experience, and you cant have it bc of the hair that grows out your head. One of the saddest videos I've ever seen was when they forced a Black teen to cut off his locs (i.e. they held him there, looking miserable, as they sheared off his hair) in order to compete in a wrestling tournament, and all the white people in that place did was watch. No one stood up for him, as he sat there getting handled like property (bc his Black body was bringing them wins but his hair was just TOO MUCH 🙄 but that's a whole Convo about Blackness, Whiteness, and Sports).

My brother went to Catholic school and they basically said he couldn't grow his hair out. None of the looks we ascribe to our culture were allowed. The girls, unless it was flat ironed (to replicate whiteness), couldn't have long braids. Certainly no locs. Meanwhile, white girls can grow their hair out as long as the sun is old, and it's treated like innocent, beautiful youth.

And this lasts into adulthood with jobs! Bc that socialization, the idea that some hair is better than others, LASTS. A newslady just took her wig off to reveal her locs on camera, after hiding it for a decade because of public perceptions. The idea that if I have locs, oh they must be dirty (they're not), so they don't care about their physical appearance and we can't hire them. Like when that old white woman said that Zendaya's faux locs probably smelled like patchouli- that was an assessment purely made on stereotype.

This is also why we get so annoyed when white people- white women in particular- wear their hair in these styles. It's usually associated with "being edgy, being rebellious and older" (i.e., bc being a Black girl is so far from what you're supposed to be as a White girl, it's not innocent or valuable, it's dangerous and it makes everyone notice you) and as soon as they're done, it's back to Mother Mary of Whiteness. It's how cornrows and braids on Black and Latino men (or both, like Miles and Miles G!) are misperceived as gang or hood shit, but a kpop rapper will get them poorly done and it's 'cool' 🙄 it's White men with dreads (I refuse to ever call them locs bc they are NOT) who think they're in their "hippie/fight the power phase" cut them when it's "time to be respectable", but when a Black man with nice locs has them already he's suspicious.

You're basically saying that being Me/Black is a trashy, edgy phase that will never succeed, but it's cool for when you wanna feel Different!

*it's also why it pisses me off in fandom spaces when people refuse to give brown characters their hair texture (or whitewash at all!). It's a statement, that "good hair" is White, and "not good/aesthetic hair" is Black. You might not think that's what you're saying, but it's what you're saying, and every Black viewer of your art can hear it loud and clear. So if you're a character designer, put some thought behind and give your Black characters their features. It'll make you a better artist and a better person.

Anyway, to come back full circle to your question: as far as I'm aware, no, there's no "bad implications" of Miles G or his braids. Nothing we wear on our head is inherently bad, just like him. But bc we've all been raised in White society to unconsciously and consciously associate certain stereotypes with these looks, Black and Brown viewers of ATSV were quite worried that that statement was being made. It was nice to hear that it wasn't.

[nekonyaniii]

Some thoughts about yexuan with his return to godheim i need to get out this from my head + this is my take and dont come at me also cmiiw!! 😭... spoiler, do not look(read by your own risk also it's so long goodbye)

i was rereading return to godheim yexuan like 88671992974 times ady and I just can't help myself to cry about it everytime I read it.. I really should .. stop .. but I can't LMAO I need to seek theraphy(asmr bday save me pls I just wanna think about 1:30mins make out)

Oh god .., Silver Knight, what have they done to you that make your fate is so harsh in Godheim/Yesai Timeline? Everytime I think about how miserable his fate in there I just can't help myself but get hurted

His explaination is firm but his voice naturally softened when he spoke about her, even Hammel is suprised hearing soft voice. And the more I think, his soft voice is because how he actually care so much about her, likes her from long ago, since his youngself when they meet as a teenagers, he just doesn't realize and can't remember anything(due empire erase his memory) so the only thing in his mind about lilpainter is his senior's daughter but deep down he knows her more than this

After repeating so many cycle of her deaths, he become anxious and hesitates because whenever she is passing away, she affecting his emotions. Hammel noticed and speaks up how this girl hold special place in his heart, he sighs and admit it that he is worried about her!!😭 This cycle is really cruel for him, he see her passing away many TIMES in his own hands how can it not make you anxious? How can he calm after repeating so many little painter's death before his eyes ?

Then he did manage to get out without any scratches left in her body, but soon the poison affect her body and the way he realize it make me so broke. Like .., He finally did it! Without a scracth??! Rescuing her from there! Can you imagine how glad he is when he thought he is finally rescuing her without her dying in his own hand. But as soon as he realize she got poisoned that delay her death, he cannot express how he's feeling, he thought he did it, he thought now can feel in ease after see her stay alive getting out from there.. he burried his face on her knees regretting his mistakes and hiding his emotions knowing that she soon will die again before his eyes, in his arms again, he must prepare for it..

This cycle is one of the hell for him, she confessed to him that lilpainter like him but he cannot return his feelings due it's heavy for him, he cannot spoke it so easily nor because she almost near her death, but because he is gonna be the one who only carries the memories and feelings alone knowing little painter will soon forget it after the new cycle start. His feeling is mixed, he doesn't look forward to see tomorrow knowing she would leave and the cyle will restart.

Now this, make me more depressed about this man. The only person he cherised is little painter and the only person he cares is her. And what if she didn't choose him after that cycle and timeloop. He will the one who bear all those bitter memories alone remembering how she said she likes him while she doesn't remember anything what she said before. Yexuan cannot avoid it, he have to witness everything about her in Yesai timeline(this is so cruel how they write 'destined' which he cannot escape from it ..), he can only watch from afar and guide her also protect her. He always have a soft spot for her but he always push it away that thoughts because he told to himself it's just a unecessary feelings that will hinder him.. There's so many things I want to explain more.. but Silver Knight fate, is really one of a cheff kiss piece. The good thing in this card is because how the ending they ended up together!! Im so happy for them! They also blessed by the goddess! After so many cycle, after so many timeloop and possibilities.. He happy together..🥹 Definetely why this is now my favorite card 😭 I NEED THIS STORIES RELEASED IN GLOBAL ASAP!!

Also i still love how he said this with a smile on his face, he is so hurted but he have to face it eventually.. Damn it yexuan, thank you for making me mentally ill(i got the ss from bilibili o<-<) hahaha

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Hiiiii looks like our periods are synced lollll just got mine today and I want to die :( can we get a Richie fic of him taking care of his girl when she’s on her period <3

Hiiii ugh omg mine’s a day late already but we pushin thru!!!!

(Also im not including this in the fic but i def think Richie at first would be the kinda guy that asks “what size pussy you wear?” when he’s out buying you pads 😭😭 lmao)

——

“Babe, where the hell did you say you put the heating pad?” Richie yelled from an adjacent room.

“It’s still on the couch, I was using it yesterday!” you responded from your nest of blankets, blowing on your steaming cup of tea to cool it down.

Moments later, he hurried back into the bedroom, kneeling next to the bed and plugging in the heating pad.

“Have the painkillers kicked in?” He asked, handing it to you.

“Kind of,” you grimaced, placing it against your lower abdomen. “How long has it been?”

“Like, fifteen minutes, probably?”

You groaned, feeling a sharp pang just below your navel. You knew the Tylenol was barely starting to work because the pain was waxing and waning at maddening intervals, so intense it made you sweat.

You squeezed his hand tightly, closing your eyes for a moment as you waited for it to pass.

"What else do you need?" He asked, hating seeing you so miserable. "Do you want me to rub your back?"

You nodded, body sagging into the mattress as the pain finally tapered off for the time being.

"I'm getting kinda hungry, too," you said, setting down your cup and turning onto your side so he had access to your back.

You sighed at his touch, his warm hands moving in slow, firm circles.

"How 'bout I get you some pizza, hm? That sound good?"

Again, you simply nodded, inching closer to him. “In a bit, though… Keep going on my back please.”

"You got it boss,” he teased, earning the slightest huff of amusement from you.

——

[oddvanilla]

kinda pray for monkeypox not becoming a big deal

like our world going NUTS we dont need it too THO very often i think about how everythinh that happens is part of future's history and it makes me kinda less paranoid because people been thorught worse and it wont be a big deal for anyone

ALSO GOT REALLY OFFENDED BY THE APPLICATION THAT CPVID MADE PEOPLE STRUGGLE WITH ASKING FOR KETCHUP for me it qasnt covid i swear i jusy became insane and now try to get more like a human

YESSS YOU GET ITTT!!! LIKE I JUST HOPE ITS NOT TRUE. THE WORLD HEALTH ORGANISATION IS ALREADY FINDING CURES TO IT OR SOMETHING LIKE OMG PLS GO BACK TO FINDING A CURE FOR CANCER LIKE MONKEY POX WONT GET THAAAT BAD....right

(upcoming yap session put Ur seat belts on)

I often think about how back then it was way worse. Like ah yes, I'm a Victorian child born into a lower class family and I'm forced to labour all my life living in the streets of London or something. Of course, you don't have food or water or any source of hygiene to begin with. The worst part is..water quality was so bad back then that if you don't have drinking water; people just drink beer instead.

Imagine your 6 year old daughter working her life off mining in a cave with starvation since yesterday and you have to just give her MORE beer to fill her stomach 😭 like oh GOD that's miserable..

and after all that, im surprised the diseases we get now are more "dangerous" than back then. Mind you, people in the 1800s or 1700s had like NO technology to even think of finding a cure. Like damn you didn't even invent a microscope YET. <- I'll educate you a bit about history..the first microscope as a CONCEPT was made by a Dutch man named Zacharias Janssen all the way back in 1590!!! But the first MODERN microscope that we know nowadays with all the different lenses and even coloured was in 1774. That's like almost 2 centuries later...and incase you haven't focused in your 7th grade science class, the first atomic theory was in 1804. If you understand where I'm going with this, we humans are slow as HELLL.

I'm mentioning all of this saying dude...you're telling me people back then had some deadly diseases, couldn't cure it, DIED on streets, and didnt even GET quarantine.

LIKE NO OLIVIA YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE A WIFE IN THE 1800s. NOT ONLY WILL YOU GET YOUR RIGHTS TAKEN AWAY BUT YOURE ALSO GONNA GET BORN, MARRIED AT 7 YEARS OLD TO THE PRINCE OF FRANCE, GET A DEADLY VIRUS AND DIE BY 12. MUST BE SOO NICE TO BE A WIFE IN THE 1800s CAUSE YOURE BORN IN THE WRONG GENERATION...right?? ❤️

Talking about generation...which I bet everyone is sick of me talking about..but like dude would our generation survive if we just got a time machine to the 17th century. Although I dont believe in the evolution theory because we are NOT monkeys but I believe over time humans learn new skills, which changes their life styles therefore their bodies change too because every creature adapts. Cool!!

You ever see those articles about how nowadays we stay on our phone all day and that'll make our bodies lazy and not used to work blah blah blah,, at first I was gonna say if we go back to the time the Spanish flu for example started we would PROBABLY survive because we have better education, better immune systems due to actual healthcare and we could definitely survive with just common sense. Like wtf?? I'm NOT going to visit by rat filled basement bare foot..

HOWEVER compare the average human who sits on bed all day scrolling and laughing at a glowy rectangular shaped decide called a phone...we would not last a day without internet...at least I know I wouldn't 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

So like...think about it. Why is corona so dangerous?? It's only borderline to older diseases. Or maybe it's the other way around. Corona itself is DEADLY, but it's just the situation and life style we have today that makes me wonder why it's harmless. Like cough cough I got covid oh no!!! I can just stay in my home all day.. like you get what I mean?? I'm sure you would just get back to work if you were unfortunately lower class victorian child and had covid..and dying probably gives you more peace than working a lifetime for 10 cents..

So that's it!!! Silly lil rant about Victorian children, diseases, Humans Adapting, science and history, and of course generations. MY ALL TIME FAVOURITE TOPICS TO TALK ABOUT!!!

[yes-asil]

(sorry if this ask goes through multiple times my internet is WACK)

i have!! a ghost boys question!! (absolutely adore these past few pages btw, as a comicfury reader pages 470-473 have been SO cute and im literally crying with joy that theyre reunited ive missed them sm its unbelievable i care them so much ANYWAY)

so i read your fic on ao3 a while back and for no reason in particular, definitely not writing a fic, can i ask for details abt matt and sickness? not like the chronic passing out/near death biz he deals with when hes suffering from ghosts, i know thatll get explained later in the story, but like if he were to get a normal illness. like. say. theres this thing of stress fevers popping up for people who work themselves too hard and you mentioned matt having fever in your ao3 fic which i was rereading earlier because its SO good and i love it but like that fic was focused on the coughing and his lungs giving out lol and i am just wondering if perhaps you would be willing to share how hed deal with being like... aware of being out of commission. being able to feel the fever and physically not being able to be unconscious bc of like the insomnia aspect because i feel like he can be so nonchalant because hes never conscious when hes miserable so just curious on how hed handle having no choice but to acknowledge it. how hed deal with having normal person illness that isnt him about to die. in my head hes ofc going to keep working anyway and make things worse bc thats how he is but i would love to hear your thoughts if you dont mind giving them!!

for no reason in particular. there is definitely not already 1k words of this which will not spiral into something more ahaha wink thank you for all you do this comic makes me so feral(/positive) my friends have learned of the boys through osmosis of me not shutting up every time a new page posts

I'll start this with an: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

So happy you like the comic so much!!! And that you rope other people into it is so fun, I'm glad you like my boys!

As for the question; Matt ignores feeling bad no matter for what reason. In his head he just goes "what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger" before he proceeds to knock himself out. When he wakes up, he continues the cycle until his body is back to normal by sheer force of will. It doesn't matter if it is a week long sniffly nose, a dry cough spell that lasts a month or his funny little ghost powers pulling him under. He WILL work and he WILL make himself useful.

The only times he accepts defeat and goes to bed to rest while actually awake are when Lukas' worries so hard it makes both of them want to cry and when Cathrine starts using her soft "I'm really worried right now I can't even act harsh" voice.

He acts pretty much the same then, just a bit huffy and restless

[walnutcookie]

you should infodump about misfortune like. now /nf

SIR YES SIR . SALUTES.

im not sure how to tag all of this, doing my best but some of it Might be a little disturbing (with cartoony visuals). if you need it tagged with something specific please ask !!

(reblogs ok !)

misfortune is this silly raven thing . it is the Embodiment of misfortune and misery and feeds off of it, which means it is often causing harm to others for its own benefit

Its like . Ten feet tall or something HVXKDBD it can shrink and grow as it pleases actually (so long as it has enough power). Since it wants to feed off of and make someone miserable, it tries to choose its victims to be the most vulnerable people it can find. people who are isolated and dont have much support mostly, but also people who already have a lot of trauma and people dont know how to manage their emotions very well

Cappuccino was a perfect canidate !

i should give some more info about misfortune before i get into that though ,,, using its host/victims body, its able to cause things to happen (stack of papers getting scattered, bookcases falling over, lighting striking dangerously close, people around them getting hurt/even dying, generally unfortunate events). it tries to make things basically just The worst it possibly can be for the person it inhabits so it can achieve Maximum Misery (which is a tasty snack for it ! ). it can also do fun and silly things like cause its victims to grow bird parts - wings, talons, feathers, a beak, combinations of these things, etc - in a very Painful and grotesque way !! which also causes them to feel miserable! though it doesnt want to kill the host so it always makes these things temporary. additionally it can possess people and control their every move, causing feathers to grow from their skin the longer theyre posessed Which they will have to pluck later. also painful.

^ cappuccino growing wings

also Misfortune does not want its victims to die. if its victims die then that means their suffering is over - it would have to find a new host. So it makes the person suffer as most as possible while also protecting them and keeping them alive

that also includes keeping them from trying to kill themselves

using its previous host/victims body (my oc golden leaf cookie at the moment but that may change), it killed cappuccinos parents. For what reason im uh. not sure yet i still need to figure that out HDBFKH but it was Incredibly gruesome and uh. unfortunately little cappuccino was there to watch !

cappuccino's parents were Not nice people. they were incredibly abusive and neglective. cappuccino is like ,, age 5-10 at this time (another thing to figure out) and while her older sister latte was there she Got scared and ran away leaving cappuccino to fend for himself (latte is still fillwd with so much guilt over that bUT THATS A ramble for another time)

cappuccino is an Already traumatized young kid who just watched her parents die and is now all alone and an orphan . and is now going to watch as this giant bird thing claws through its host, causing them to scream out in pain and bleed out to death on the floor as the bird talks to little cappu !!! in spanish because for some reason me and my gf decided it speaks spanish but hey it works out cause so does cappu!

misfortune then crawls inside cappuccinos mouth. which again. is very painful. And very disturbing especially as a child

cappuccino lives with this thing for like twenty years, vaguely aware of its existence yet still filled with doubt. He knows she has bad luck either way and tends to isolate herself as to not harm others !!! all of the friends he made in school had bad things happen to them so hes become paranoid about getting too close to people. hes basically just accepted that shes not capable of doing good ,,, anything he tries to do just ends up going bad anyways. Which is why hes become a prosecutor !!!! you see Misfortune naturally gives her an advantage since giving innocent people (or anyone for that matter) lengthy sentences and other punishments causes a lot of misery and feeds Misfortune quite nicely ! it doesnt exactly Garuntee cappus win like. she still has to work for it. but he does get an upper hand (unknowingly) as misfortune encourages it. the reason she smokes a lot is because it helps him not feel so anxious and paranoid constantly that bad things will happen to everyone she cares about

theres a lot of habits hes picked up after dealing with this thing for so long. no cars/buses since hes been in FAR too many car crashes. keep pencils/writing tools dull as he tends to accidentally stab herself a lot. dont bother keeping places clean and tidy since theyll become dirty somehow anyways

cappuccino has a vague memory of misfortune. though since it was so long ago and also During a very traumatizing moment his mind has kind of distorted it to be some incomprehensible monster that appears in her nightmares. is it real? is he just imagining all of this? when wings grow from his back, is she hallucinating it? is something causing all of this bad luck, or is he just imagining everything? he cant tell if its real or not . she KNOWS something is wrong because it seems like life itself is determined to keep her from being happy. the thing is misfortune constantly lives inside of her ,, hes never seen misfortune aside from that very fuzzy (and distorted) memory from when he was a child. finally he Cant Take it anymore and just talks out loud to himself, trying to talk to whatever it is keeping him from being happy - again, not knowing if anything is actually there.

But there is !

And she is horrified as it starts to crawl out of his mouth!

theres a sense of relief and reassurance as At least now he knows its not all just his imagination but also. holy fucking shit. its not her imagination.

its all real. the memory from when she was a kid. hes being haunted by this Fucking Thing (which she realizes is a bird and not an incomprehensible monster) and its effectively ruining her life. it speaks to her - he figures out that it feeds off of his misery and that its been doing that for the past 20 years. And she just has to live with that

-

I could go on ,,, theres more to it actually but this post is getting Very long and i want people to Actually read it HXBDKHD

(UPDATE PART 2 HERE)

if you have any questions/comments PLEASE let me know i love talking about this thang !!!