At First, I Had No Idea That Talking To Your F/o's Was Considered As Self-shipping. It Started Happening

At first, I had no idea that talking to your f/o's was considered as self-shipping. It started happening by itself and I was like: Am I going crazy??

But it didn't feel bad 95 percent of the time (the other 5 I triggered myself into a panic attack/a breakdown, but that's 'cause I'm a dumbass XD) so I just let it happen. And then I learned about self-shipping and platonic f/o's and... Yeah, here we are XD

Never be embarrassed about having conversations with your f/o’s!

If you imagine them reacting to something you see or do, that’s great! They like to be involved in your day to day life.

If you talk out loud and imagine that they answer, that’s so good! They like your voice a lot. They love to hear you say their name, especially. It gives ‘em butterflies.

Do they hold your hand while they talk to you? Hug you? Sit next to you, knees touching? Do you lean in closer to them? Adorable. They might even fall asleep on your shoulder sometimes.

Personally, I keep a running note on my phone of our silly or interesting conversations. I like to look back at them and laugh with them at something they said or remind myself of a sweet compliment they gave me. I’m particularly fond of the time one of them couldn’t pronounce ‘enchilada’ and spent an hour repeating it over and over and pestering all my other f/o’s about how it’s supposed to be pronounced.

Sometimes they like to pop in out of nowhere and give their two cents. Sometimes when I can’t sleep they count sheep for me. When I’m studying Japanese, my Japanese voiced f/o’s help me practice. Sometimes they talk to each other, not just to me! Sometimes they take a phone call or talk to someone else from their source material. Sometimes they even talk to someone from a different source material. Sometimes I rewatch their source material and they have a running commentary- “Yeah, that guy was a jerk.” Or “I had a scar from that fall for weeks!” Or even “You can’t tell, but (other character) was behind the camera making stupid faces at me this entire scene.”

Talking to your f/o’s isn’t weird, it isn’t just talking to yourself- it’s a dialogue between you and someone you love. And they love talking to you. Even if you ramble, even if your thoughts go a mile a minute or trail off to something unrelated, they’ll listen. Even if they have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, they get to hear your voice, and that’s what matters.

Thank you for the tag @a-napoleon-lover-at-17

1. I am interested in witchcraft and I'd like to practice it ^^

2. I have Tiktok (and posted my first today, @confused_bastard if you'd like to follow)

3. I'm on my way to be trilingual (I speak Czech and English fluently and am learning Russian)

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog!😘😘😘😘

Alrighty!

My dream car is a 93 Toyota Paseo, Thursdays are always a bad day for me and my favorite scent is the smell of old books.

I tag @worm-sy @sakamaki–gal @komori-beast @no-time-todie @emahodzic18 @littlebxrrygirl @rxinyr

hi! can i please have some cute hcs with larry johnson with a short punk s/o? you can simplify it if you need to :) -gh0stwriting (thank you!)

Pairing: Larry Johnson x short!punk!reader

Warnings: fluff, description of injury (just a mention, nothing graphic)

A/N: I hope you’ll like this! I’m not sure if it’s as cute as you expected, I guess it’s a bit because I just can’t picture punk as anything cute, but I’m just going from my experience with punk people (because it’s very common around where I live)

* * * * *

Larry Johnson with a short punk s/o

This man is intrigued from the first moment he saw you.

Your appearance would be the first to catch his eye.

You didn’t dress anything like rockers or metalheads, or anyone he’s ever seen actually

Your outfit looked looked like it was pulled out of a dumpster, given how torn and worn out it looked, and yet it was creative in a special way and he could appreciate that.

He especially likes all the chains, padlocks, clips and pins attached everywhere, it’s just so unique and cool!

Needless to say you two click without a problem.

Definitely asks you what this aesthetic is all about.

To which you respond that punk is not just an aesthetic, but more a lifestyle.

A lifestyle full of rebellion and personal freedom.

It was honestly adorable seeing you get so worked up about your beliefs with how short you are.

Not that he’d tell you that, because he was sure you’d kill him for it...

Is definitely on board with the rebellion part.

Nothing feels better than to piss off some close minded jerks after all.

Depends on what type of punk are you into, because the original lifestyle promoted some pretty controversial ideaology that I don’t think even Larry would agree with, like complete personal freedom with no order.

Anarchy is nice and not living up to what society wants from you is definitely the part of rebellious behaviour he likes and supports.

But it definitely shouldn’t cross other people’s freedom, which in itself ruins the idea of complete anarchy.

No matter what, he isn’t going to treat you differently unless you are a jerk to others for no reason, so rest assured.

If anything, he loves that you believe in your thing and don’t let anyone give you shit for it.

He would absolutely love causing trouble with you.

You’d be such a power couple, I’m swooning just imagining it!

Wouldn’t be opposed to going with you to a concert of your favourite band.

He would totally be the tall guy in the moshpit, I’m sorry.

He is used to headbanging, this is completely new to him.

Not that he doesn’t like the idea and I could see him joining you if he’d be in the mood.

But he’s very worried about you, you could get hurt! What if you fall and no one notices! They could stomp on you! And that would hurt, given the heavy boots everyone is wearing...

Relaxes when he sees people picking up others from the ground, only to nearly die when you come to tell him you probably dislocated your jaw for a moment there (A/N: that legit happened to my classmate on a school trip XD).

I think Larry is open to all kinds of things, so he’d be surprised by the atmosphere of the concert.

Agressive music with agressive dancing.

Everyone is having fun though, including you, so he doesn’t mind but definitely asks you what is all that agression about.

In conclusion, he wouldn’t be 100% into it, but wouldn’t mind it and would love you even more for being your unique self <3

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh, you're gonna kill me, this was so good 😭

This was comforting AND funny! Arthur - depressing but beautiful 100 percent agree with that statement.

I love how Dazai and Arthur are all uwu, author bonding owo while Will (and I am apalled you even considered someone demanding you take Willibum back) is like "Haha, tragedy makes my brain go brr" and then the realization hits and It's like "It was at this moment that Will knew...he fucked up." and then goes soft too.

Just, agh, this was perfect beyond words, you're so talented 😍

Hi! It's me again, sorry to bother. Do you write headcanons? I had this idea that I'd like to request (if It's too soon or something, just tell me, I don't know why I feel so guilty 😅) Maybe the writer trio's reaction to s/o who writes reaaally sad poetry as a coping mechanism? (Yeah, bc I definitely don't do that ehm O-O) Again, sorry for requesting so soon :(

I definitely do write headcanons! And don't feel guilty for requesting, I'll take my time to respond anyhow, so feel free to shoot your shot when you need it.

Fun fact: I write depressing poetry as a coping mechanism, too!

Not sure how well I'll be able to portray them, but here we go!

Arthur

Doesn't know at first. You don't tell, he doesn't ask.

But one day he notices you writing in a diary with a somber face.

Detective mode: Activate.

It's a little hard for him to get his hands on that diary since you carry it everywhere.

But when he does get his hands on it.

By Jove.

"She/he writes like this?!"

Is impressed.

And concerned.

This is some depressing stuff.

Depressing but beautiful.

Like him, am I right?

Later, asks you about it.

And that's when you realise your diary is missing.

PANIC.

He apologises profusely, noticing how alarmed you are.

"But I have to say, I'm glad I got my hands on this. It's impressed me as a writer and reader... And concerned me as a lover."

Aw.

Soft boi.

Reminds you that you can talk to him if things get rough.

The both of you end up talking about how feelings influences writing.

Very sweet author bonding.

You know you can share your poetry with him now.

If, in one of his new mystery novels, you find a character who writes poetry as a coping mechanism, and it leads to some kind of clue, don't be surprised.

Dazai

This was accidental.

You left your diary at the dining table, wide open, to a page where you'd written another poem that was... A little too expressive.

Dazai hops into the room via the window (as usual) and notices a little diary on the table.

Curious, he ends up going to look at it.

"What's this? It seems this belongs to Toshiko-san."

Yes, he recognises your handwriting.

Tries not to pry, but he ends up reading the page that's been left open.

The window is open, but did a ridiculously powerful gust of window come through?

Because he is BLOWN AWAY.

"Such powerful words... So much pain. Is this what you hide behind your smile?"

Picks it up and decides he'll give it back to you before anyone else sees it.

You beat him to it, running into the room. "Dazai-san, have you seen my-"

Whoops.

He just walks up to you and hands it over.

"You write well, (Y/N), but what you write is painful."

Silence.

How are so this sweet, goddamn-

"Would you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

You both end up in the library, talking about writing, emotions and your troubles.

Wholesome writer bonding.

He'll probably end up writing some poetry, because he's got inspiration now.

UwU

Shakespeare

(I'm not sure how write his character. But, well. I try.)

It's always accidental.

Although this time, it was you getting heated that led to the revelation.

Our man, Willibum (No, I will not take that back) was talking about how tragedy makes excellent stories.

He ended up quoting a play of his.

You snapped.

And went on a tangent about how it was horribly insensitive and terribly crass of him to use others' pain as source of entertainment.

You ended your monologue, quoting a line from a poem you had written some time ago.

"You speak rather eloquently, I must admit. And the words at the end; where did you get those from?"

"Me."

Genuine surprise. "You?"

"What, you think you have a monopoly on writing?"

Ohohohoho, BURN!

He's impressed.

And SUPER excited.

Someone who can write tragic content like him? Splendid! What a wondrous stroke of luck!

Before he can say anything though, you have already stormed out of the room.

With good reason, though he doesn't quite get it.

He feels bad, but decides to wait until you're calmer.

When the time is right, he approaches you.

He apologises for making you angry.

"It was not my intention to irk you."

"You did much more than just irk me."

Oh.

Moment of silent realisation.

"Your words come from your heart, do they not?"

You scoff. "Happy realisation."

Actually feels guilty.

Sits down and tries to talk to you.

You're hesitant at first, still miffed, but you open up.

That's when starts to properly realise where you're coming from.

"You are strong woman/man."

"Where did that come from?"

"You turn your pain into power with your words. You transform what hurts you into something mesmerising. That is true strength."

Smooth motherf-

"Not sure how genuine that compliment was, but thanks."

You two grow closer as a result of that conversation.

"If whatever he said was true... Maybe he isn't that much of an ass."

Chasing demons away

Requested by: @coldjudgestudentdeputy - Hello! I just want to say that your stories give me so much comfort and I am grateful for your writing. Could I request a comfort fic for Ikemen Vampire Comte with a self harming S/O. You don’t know how much you reading has helped me! Thank you so much! Much Love ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: le Comte de Saint-Germain x reader

Warnings: selfharm, suicidal intentions, lots and lots of angst, gore

A/N: Thank you again for being so sweet dear! You’ve got no idea how happy that made me and how honoured I feel that I can continue to bring you comfort. I hope I did a good job... Also, I wrote the reader as gender neutral, if you’d like me to change it, just ask ;) I’ll be glad to write something for you again if you’d need. Sending lots of strength through this post!

* * * * *

     Everybody has bad days, there is no shame in that. Sometimes you just feel under the weather, be it for one reason or another. But when this feeling just doesn’t want to go away, and days turn into weeks, which turn into months, it becomes a problem.

    When you became Comte’s partner, he assured you that you no longer had to work alongside Sebastian if you didn’t want to. That was of course unthinkable, not only would you feel extremely guilty for putting extra work on the poor man’s shoulders, you liked your job at the mansion. And quite frankly, you didn’t know what else you would do. Let’s be honest, it’s not like you could really pursue a career in 19th century... And sure, you had your hobbies, but you certainly couldn’t compare to the likes of your housemates. At least, that’s what you thought.

    Abandoning your old life was not an easy decision, but certainly not one you regretted. Most of the time that is. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but feel insecure. Sometimes, thoughts of doubt would haunt and taunt you, whispering delicately in your ears how you don’t belong and how foolish you are for giving up your life to a man for who you are just a spec in his never ending life.

    Now, both you and Comte were busy people. Running a mansion and looking after it were not easy tasks, but you knew that whenever you needed it, you could rely on your lover, even when your thoughts made you want to turn the other way, just so he wouldn’t be worried. But he knew what sadness looks like, he knew it better than anyone, and seeing your eyes clouded by the emotion clawed at his old soul. When your thoughts were especially loud, it took him one look at your face to know just exactly what’s wrong. He would take you to his room or at least somewhere where you two could be alone, tugged you close to him and held you as long as you needed. No matter how hard it was, you two were always able to chase away those demons of yours and in those moments did you truly know that you loved him and he loved you.

    But no matter how many times did your lover chase those monstrous thoughts away, they always came back. It started out small, barely noticeable. One day, the moment you opened your eyes, it was like a heavy blanket was draped across your soul. It made the world seem gray and blank. Without thinking much of it, you went about your day as usual.

    The first one to call you out on your unusual behaviour was Vincent at breakfast “Is somehing wrong (Y/N)?” You were puzzled, was there something wrong? After shaking your head in confusion, the painter elaborated “Your eyes don’t shine as usual.” he said and looked at you with worried eyes. You smiled at him, despite how unnatural the action felt to you “I guess it’s just a bad day. I’ll be fine,”

    Turns out Vincent wasn’t the only one who noticed the change. Dazai mentioned you weren’t smiling as usual and Sebastian pointed out how quiet you are. On one hand you felt flattered that they noticed such a small detail about you, but a small voice in your head whispered “Look how worried you make them.”

    The next days weren’t any better. But you were determined to not make anyone worried. For a while, it seemed to work. You concentrated on your daily tasks and dodged every question with “I’m fine.” and the best smile you could muster up. But it seemed the blanket didn’t want to be lifted at all. Every day you woke up more tired than before and pretending you were fine just so you wouldn’t worry anyone was becoming harder and harder each day.

    It was not long before Comte noticed how your eyes weren’t clouded by just any sadness, but weighed down by immense pain. He questioned you about it, but you were stubborn, one of your traits he oh so loved about you, but now it did more harm than good. Through careful prodding he got out of you that you were indeed not fine, but didn’t wish to talk about it. That it was for his sake you didn’t say out loud, he didn’t need to know that.

    Time passed and all the residents became quite worried for you. Whenever they approached you, asking how you were and if you would like to maybe go out, all you could see was the worry in their eyes. “You’re not doing well enough!” your mind tormented you “They shouldn’t have to worry about you, they have enough problems already!” And so the only rational thing in that moment was to isolate yourself even more. You were hurting, and just because you refused to share your pain with the others, you still needed an outlet.

    “Ma chérie, do you know where is my razor?” Comte asked you from the bathroom attached to his room. “No idea, mon cher.” you answered innocently, but you couldn’t help the guilt that swirled in your gut at that lie. You really didn’t want to steal from your lover, the idea itself horrible and the act even worse, but there was no other way. You would take care of this problem, one way or another. “Oh well, seems I’ve lost it.” Comte made a mental note to ask Sebastian to buy him a new one once he’ll go out for groceries “I’ll be in my study, if you need me.” he gave you a kiss on the forehead and left you in the bedroom. Alone.

    It was late in the afternoon when you finally got back to the room you shared with your lover. Dark thoughts plagued your mind the whole day and you were anxiously anticipating this moment. Slowly and carefully you took out the razor your lover ‘lost’ this morning. You sat on your side of the bed, eyes roaming the shining object in your hand. You slowly put one of your hands on your thigh, wrist facing up and brought the tip of the razor to your wrist. “Now or never.” your mind ordered.

Slice.

    That... That wasn’t so bad. You haven’t done this in a long while, but it surprized you how easy it was. You could already feel the pressure easing away from your body, your eyes set on the cut that was quickly becoming darker with your blood. But it wasn’t enough. “Only one cut? What are you, a coward? Make it at least four!” the voice ordered. And you complied.

    Soon, your whole wrist was covered in blood. As you came down from the high, you started panicking. How were you going to hide this from everyone?? They’d be so disappointed if they found out, you thought. “Or you could just finish the job.” your mind whispered. You knew where the artery in your hand was. How easy would it be to just slice it pen and let the river of blood flow out? You wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore. Nobody would have to worry about you anymore. Comte could find someone more stable than you. It’s what he deserved anyway...

    The tip of the razor moved towards the outer side of your wrist. You were so numb that it almost felt like it moved on its own. Just as you began pressing down, a familiar voice interrupted your actions “Put the blade down ma chérie.”

    Comte was pleased to find out that it had been only the afternoon when he was done with his work. He didn’t have to go to Sebastian immediately then. He got up and started walking to his room, to search for his lost razor for the last time. Now he wished he lost it.

     Just as he opened the door, the strong scent of blood hit his nose like a slap to the face. Eyes quickly searched the room and to his horror, he found you sitting on the bed, his razor in your hand, fresh cuts on your wrist. You didn’t seem to notice him, eyes fixed on your wrist, the tip of the blade slowly moving towards a place where nothing sharp should ever touch you.

    “Put the blade down ma chérie.” he softly called out to you, closing the door quietly behind him as he took a few steps forward. One wrong move and he could lose you. And he didn’t want to risk that. You whirled around to face him, eyes widened in panic, mouth opened a bit. Tears were streaming down your face, the sight so painful to him that it brought some into his own. He repeated his request. You didn’t budge, but Comte saw your grip on the blade tightening.

    “Come on, you’re already this far, surely you’re not gonna chicken out?” your mind questioned, its voice turning sour and screechy instead of the honeyed murmurs you were used to. You hesitated. Oh but your lover’s eyes shone with tears and i them you saw desperation. For once he dropped his mask, allowed you and only you to see, truly see, just how much he needed you. You saw fear, and love and sadness so deeply rooted within him and it made your heart tear apart. You swore to yourself once that you’d be there for him, that he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

    And so once again, your lover won over your ill mind. No matter how painful life would become, he would always come first. You dropped the wicked torture tool, which clanked loudly against the floor, staining it with your blood. It took you both only a few steps to meet each other at the foot of your bed. Comte didn’t hesitate to wrap you in his arms, holding you tighter than ever before, not caring that his clothes would get dirty, because how could he ever get mad at you?

    As you held each other close you heard his quiet, almost completely inaudible sniffles. You pulled away from him a bit and cradled his face in your hands, wiping his tears away “Please don’t cry mon cher. I’m so sorry.”

    Holding you close with one hand, he placed his other on the back of your head and peppered your face with gentle kisses and you smiled sadly at the gesture. Only when every inch of your skin received the love it deserved he pulled away “Please, please don’t leave me. After you stole my heart I promised myself I’d never let you go. I couldn’t bear to lose you, to be alone again.” You nodded your head in confirmation, guilt heavy on your chest again. “I can’t promise that everything will be alright, but you have to believe that I am here for you, whenever you may need me. Please, I am your lover, don’t ever hesitate to come to me.” “But, you shouldn’t have to-” you wanted to argue, but Comte pressed his pointer finger against your lips “You’ve helped me so much. I am a better man thanks to you. You support me, it’s only fair I support you too.” And even though your mind still didn’t quiet down, even it couldn’t find an argument against that.

    After that, Comte quickly brought a first aid kit to his room and tended to your wounds. He took the rest of the day and night to show you just how much deserving of love and support you are and how much you truly mean to him.

The state in the middle of a depression nap and depression awakeness: depression awakening.

The dissapointment from waking up from a depression nap, crisis over what the fuck do I do now and then after a crying session fueled by feelings of hopelessness going to do activities typical for depression awakeness.

opposite of depression nap. depression awakeness. refreshing the same three websites over and over. there’s nothing new on any of them. eight seconds have passed and it feels like a century