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△ what are you gonna do after cato dies

10/10.

          &&.   “He won’t.” Nef was sure of it. SHE HAD TO BE SURE OF IT. “He’s sick, but... he’s way too smart and funny to die. He can read and write and his impressions are the best. He’s going to get better.” She swallowed thickly, “... but IF he did —— and he’s not going to —— I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d do. There’s  N O T H I N G  to do without him. I won’t let him die, anyways, so this doesn’t matter.”

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Naming your white character after an Egyptian Queen is really offensive to my Egyptian heritage & culture, just FYI.

i mean i’m not gonna say it’s not offensive bc i’m not egyptian but also??? there’s nothing to discuss if ur just going to send me and sarah passive aggressive anons?? if u wanna talk about it off anon i’d be happy to bc if it’s genuinely upsetting u it’s just an oc name i can change it but doing this the first time to sarah clearly didn’t solve ur issue w/ me and doing this hasn’t either so……….. any more anonymous asks i get about the topic will be deleted 

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absqxelimite.

                Rosier. Did anyone remember the name? Would anyone remember the charmingly easy laughter of his unstable grandfather? Or how he’d terrorised those of impure blood? Dimitre resembled him, certainly. But with his own disconcertingly quiet, private nature he couldn’t be further from or closer to following in Evan’s footsteps. Looking up, he gave a wan half-smile. WEIRDO. A step closer to his grandfather. “Just thinking aloud to myself,” He responded, turning towards her. “Nothing of consequence.” Fingers curled around a silver case in his coat pocket, and he pulled it out as he continued to speak. “Care for a smoke?”

          &&.   Nef’s eyes  N A R R O W E D  sharply, flickered untrustingly between the student and the thing he offered. She bluntly shook her head. “NO, thanks. All yours.” It wasn’t that she held any qualms about cigarettes: it was that she had them about strangers. “You lot do that often, y’know?” Nef made a point of emphasising the separation between her and them, WEREWOLF vs just plain old WIZARD. “Talk shit to yourselves, I mean. And I’M somehow the cursed one. You’ve got so much going on in your head, you can’t even KEEP IT IN THERE and just shut the fuck up. Not even when you’re all by yourself. ——— What is it you’re supposed to say when you want to tell the t r u t h ? No offence... ?”

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absqxelimite.

             He hadn’t said a damn thing the entire service. Silent, he appeared uncaring in the way his expression remained devoid of emotion. But the roar of his heartbeat in his ears was noise enough to him, nevermind the sniffling and sobbing that could be heard during the entire ceremony. Words, shades of grey swirled about, coloured the sky with melancholia as he walked away from the lake as one of the last to leave the memorial. Unseeing eyes hadn’t noticed how much longer he’d stood there than some others. Dimitre looked down as he made his way back to the castle, watching his steps before he’d let out a small laugh. “What a waste.”

          &&.   Nef hadn’t bothered to actually attend the memorial; rather watch the proceedings from afar. Her last name may as well have been synonymous for UNWELCOME, her father’s history of  v i o l e n c e  and grim alignments casting her out before her prickly personality could do it for her. She emerged only once everyone else had sauntered away, and caught sight of a last lingering straggler returning to the castle. “Alright, weirdo. I was gonna’ ignore your LAUGHING to yourself —- but why the fuck are you chatting with yourself, too?” She piped up from behind, brows arched skeptically.

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I was not a lovable child, and I’d grown into a deeply unlovable adult. Draw a picture of my soul, and it’d be a scribble with fangs.

Gillian Flynn, Dark Places (via justcrisel)

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