#and i finally know that i truly am unlovable

[frankensteinmutual]

.

[heartshapedcigaretteburns]

Ex!Gaz who's still in love with you:/

(Look at my handsome boy💞)

Ex bf! Gaz who never wanted the relationship to end in the first place but you just couldn't handle how little time you got to spend together. He fought tooth and nail to try and make you stay but it wasn't enough. When that doesn't work he tries convincing you to stay friends but you know deep down that wouldn't work out so you reject the idea. 

Ex bf! Gaz who low-key stalks you. I mean is it really stalking if he means well? He just wants to ensure you're doing okay so he keeps tabs on you. Initially, he maintains his distance by checking your social media, but gradually, he starts appearing in the places you frequent, coincidentally running into you at the grocery store or gym more often than usual.

Ex bf! Gaz who worms his way back into your life subtly. Getting more involved with your mutual friends so that they invite him along to outings he knows you'll be at. In every group setting he manages to stay at your side despite how hard you try to get rid of him.

Ex bf! Gaz who is ecstatic when you warm up to the idea of remaining friends but he doesn't stop there. He's desperate to make you see that you're meant to be with him. He firmly believes that he was destined to marry you and grow old with you and he just doesn't understand why you can't accept that. In his eyes, you are his fate, his ultimate destiny.

Ex bf! Gaz who can't cope when you start going on dates with other people. Nobody else is deserving of you. You're meant to be going on dates with him, holding his hand, smiling at him. In his mind, no one else can treat you the way he can.  Sooooo naturally he resorts to sabotaging your love life. He'll find a way to make every new potential partner suddenly change their mind about dating you. And when you get stood up for the third time, he's there to hold you and comfort you, offering solace. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were convinced that this new guy actually felt something for you. Things were going great - you had been on a few dates and really hit it off. It wasn't anything like what you and Kyle had but it was a step in the right direction. 

However, everything changed when he stood you up at the restaurant, leaving you waiting for 40 minutes without responding to your numerous texts. Finally, he replies, but the message crushes you.

"Sorry, I'm not coming tonight. I don't think this is going to work out."

Your entire body crumbles inward and you shrink into the booth as you process those words. You desperately tried to text back and ask what went wrong, but he had already blocked you. What a dick.

You apologize to the staff for the inconvenience, collect your belongings, and start walking home. As you left the fancy establishment, hot tears streamed down your face. It didn't take long for a familiar car to slow down beside you. 

“Why are you walking alone so late, love? C’mon, hop in.” Kyle spoke with a caring tone that both comforted and hurt you.

As much as you wish he wasn't so comforting, you find solace in his presence. You felt disappointed, frustrated, humiliated, and above all, unlovable. It's only natural you fall into his reassuring company.

You allow yourself to get into his car and let him drive you home while you sob pathetically and pour your little heart out. You're not even certain he can understand you with the intense blubbering you're doing but he can, he always can. He listens to you vent to him, gently rubbing your exposed thigh until you get it all out.

“God am I just not desirable enough? It seems like nobody wants me." You cried softly, your voice hoarse. 

He pulls into the driveway of what used to be your shared house.

“You're incredibly desirable, lovie. Anyone would be lucky to have you, he's just an idiot. He doesn't deserve you anyways." Kyle reassures you as he guides you inside to show you just how desirable you truly are. 

Okay this idea I've been toying with in my brain a lot lately and I think I executed it pretty well but let me know what you guys think. Hope you enjoyed! Ignore spelling and grammar errors though 😽😽😽

[austenhowe]

when do you think cressida realizes that eloise has completely forsaken her?

because before she found out penelope was lady whistledown she still thought she was the one to completely break their friendship by allowing her mother to write disparagingly about the bridgertons.

she did not know that eloise already knew who lady whistledown was when she asked for her help to write the column. she probably thought that eloise cut their friendship because her assuming the mantle of lady whistledown implies that she was the one who wrote ruinous things about her last season.

do you think she realizes that this was the reason for the fallout of eloise and penelope's friendship once she found out who the real lady whistledown was? do you think she realizes that eloise knew and that she was content to let her take the fall for perez hilton featherington? that she refused to help her knowing that she wasn't the real lady whistledown and knowing that she was desperate to escape her circumstances? and that she could not even spare her a sympathetic ear even if she didn't want to help and instead doubled down in drawing the line in the sand by cutting their friendship?

how would she feel about that when she finally works it out? when she realizes that eloise did not value their friendship as much as she did? that she probably never even valued her as a person capable of deep thoughts, of feelings, of dreams? (please don't get me started with the whole, "I did enjoy her at the start" line they gave eloise, my god that was cold)

do you think the show will even give the space for cressida to have these realizations in the next season or am I out of my mind to expect them to actually do cressida's character justice? (the show did love to laugh at her misfortune)

even if they never acknowledge this aspect of their break-up, cressida has a long carriage ride to wales to reflect on this betrayal (yes I will call it a betrayal, of their friendship and of eloise's character development in part 1) and god only knows what kind of mindset she'll end up having after realizing that she is truly alone, unwanted, unloved, and unworthy of help.

I hope at the very least that this informs her character in the next season and that we see her finding her purpose, her strength, and her place in or out of polite society. I don't ask for much. I just want her to have a good, loving, and happy life, with or without eloise.

I'll take creloise endgame if they actually manage to fix what they broke when they wrote eloise as OOC as possible so that they could have their penelope and eloise friendship as quickly as they could. I don't know about other people, but I do have standards and that includes EARNED reconciliations. I find it so cheap and lazy when writers just skip to the good part, like have some respect for your viewing audience.

I don't know why I'm still mad about this but you really shouldn't put a character that's doomed by the narrative in front of me and expect me to just leave it to die in a ditch.

I'll always root for the underdog, especially one that's been beaten down and publicly dragged through the mud for daring to escape their doomed fate.

[slttygeto]

Satoru is convinced that nothing in this world can affect him. He doesn’t really try to hide his emotions even when they are considered to be negative and so if anything, when he starts to notice that a person is annoyed with him, he makes sure to tell them that he does not care and would not change himself for anyone in this world.

That was until you came and flipped his world upside down. Quite literally. Satoru is left breathless by your presence, your charming smile, your personality—he thinks that he’s never met someone as charismatic, as strongly opinionated and when he finally asks you out on a date and you say yes, he’s over the moon.

Satoru falls in love with you and he falls hard. It doesn’t take a genius to notice that you’ve got the man in a chokehold and that he would do anything for you. He can drive two hours to get your favorite dessert, he can also give you more of the blanket when you start shivering in bed at night. What Satoru can’t do, is let you leave him.

“But—I don’t get it, what did I do?” he is confused, heartbroken. This is the first time he’s shown any emotion around you that wasn’t literal infatuation and you can’t find it in you to tell him that you just fell out of love with him.

Please stay.

“You didn’t do anything, toru—“

“Don’t call me that.” He cuts you off sharply. “You don’t get to use that nickname on me when you’re breaking my heart,”

“Sorry, force of habit.” You mumble as you put more clothes in your suitcase.

Why are you packing your things? I still want my bed to smell like you.

“…Why are you leaving me?” he asks again and this time when you sigh in annoyance, Satoru feels unloved. He wants to change himself for you, he cares about what you think of him—what have you done to him?

“I am leaving you because you deserve better.”

“Bullshit. You’re leaving me because you found better.” He spits out venomously and you chuckle bitterly.

Have I been bad? Do I truly deserve this?

“Didn’t you say that there was no one in this world better than you?”

“Whoever has your heart.” He says and you look at him, confused.

“Huh?”

“Whoever has your heart is the only person better than me.”

Satoru watches as you leave and never look back. Days turn into months, and it’s eventually been years since you left him and he can’t seem to pick himself back up. He knows he will never love again, knows that he will never let somebody in ever again and he accepts it.

Gojo Satoru bitterly accepts that he was never meant to be loved.

Maybe in another life.

[into-the-lokiverse]

Who You Really Are (Loki, God of Stories x Reader)

Summary: When all appears lost to an aspiring novelist, the God of Stories sends a message of hope.

(credit to @lokitvsource for the gif)

You weren't sure how much further you could go on, or if you could go on.

For years, one of the biggest things you desperately wanted in life was to be a novelist. To entertain with stories of magic, power, action, romance, and a little nonsense.

But lately, as you sat before your desk, exhausted from the day job you relied on to pay the bills, you just couldn't bring yourself to move forward with your debut story. The plot felt too twisted to the point even you could barely comprehend it at times. The characters once vivid, were fading into shadows and dust of their former selves. And the scenes you envisioned in detail started to feel...unreachable.

And yet, you couldn not stop scribbling notes at every random moment of inspiration. You clung to the memory of your characters.

Like a parasite or an infection, the idea of your story plagued your mind for weeks, months to the point where it never seemed to leave you. You could barely think straight about anything else, even cleaning.

Half-drank cups of coffee at every corner of the desk, loose napkins with random thoughts written on them, a garbage can full of tissues, candy wrappers, and tea bags, a folder filled with printed images of your dark-haired, blue-eyed muse, and a stack of books that you checked out for "inspiration" but hardly touched.

The floor surrounding your desk had a thin layer of dust, wherever there weren't fallen pens you hadn't the heart to pick up, or papers you abandoned.

Am I meant to be a writer, or am I simply possessed?, you contemplated over a cup of stale coffee. Am I truly, clinically insane with obssssion? Am I doing the right thing, or have I finally lost my mind? Maybe I'm just crazy...maybe I'm wasting my time, doing the wrong thing that was never meant for me.

Or maybe I'm just not worthy of being the person who...does things. The person who flourishes in doing something they love.

But just as you were about to put your head down on the one free space on your cluttered desk, you spotted a mysterious note in parchment.

It read,

I believe in you.

I believe in every part of you, even in that couple of paragraphs you've stuffed in your desk (which honestly should be cleaned, but you won't do it.).

I believe in you because I know who you could become.

Because I know who you really are. You're a talented, blessed individual burdened with a glorious compulsivity to write and far too much fear for your own good.

But who you really are, it does not matter. It is all about the stories. The adventures.

There is a last refuge for the unloved and the desperate, and the persecuted.

When life gets too impossible, when life gets too terrifying, find hope in this, my talented scribe. That when all else fails, remember that you are a branch on the tree of life.

And in the center of that tree, there is someone watching over you, protecting you like he's always done before, and will continue to do so.

Your branch is just beginning. So marvel me, and marvel yourself with all you do. My blessing is with you.

For all time always.

Loki

[sarah-yyy]

what: period cdrama // 40 eps, roughly 55 mins each  where: youku (you can also dl the app) // youtube // coming up soon on viki (usual disclaimer that i do not use eng subs so i don’t speak to the quality of subs) why: do you love watching a poor little meow-meow get tortured in a variety of ways before he decides to go fuck it, i’ll be a demon lord and kill everyone who wronged me?? do you like enemies to fated to kill you lovers??? do you enjoy PAIN AND SUFFERING??? this is the show for you

meet tantai jin, the cdrama fandom’s newest obsession 

cursed prince of the Jing kingdom who was sent as a hostage to a neighbouring kingdom. he’s been unloved and bullied all his life - think, discarded and left to die by his own father, kicked around by servants, begging for scraps of food, abandoned and slowly betrayed by everyone around him... it’s NOT GOOD buddies, you will watch his life unfold and you will become attached and want to let him do whatever the fuck he wants 

surprise surprise this sad pathetic man will one day become

THE demon lord who destroys all of humanity etc etc. look at this wardrobe upgrade??? amazing. beautiful. bad for humanity but great for him. good job, bud, you did well.

ANYWAY this show opens with demon lord tantai jin (affectionate) going on his lil’ murder spree (understandable). the fate of humanity as we know it to be rests on the shoulders of one li susu

to defeat tantai jin, she will transmigrate to the past into the body of ye xiwu (tantai jin’s evil wife who whips him every night (not in the fun way sorry buds) and tortures/bullies him for because it pleases her) to try to kill him while he’s weak, before he turns evil and amasses power. this is for the good of humanity!!! but also he’s truly so pathetic in the past that she can’t quite seem to put her heart into it (there’s also this whole finding his evil bone and getting rid of that before she can kill him problem but HMMM) and decides that?? maybe if she shows him some care and love??? she’ll subvert his murdermurdermurder tendencies????

this is the gist of the show!! there are a few arcs that we go through like all good xianxia cdramas, so we get to see them live through a few different lives (think: ten miles of peach blossom, pillow book etc etc), and every single dynamic between them is SO GOOD!!!!! we have spicy enemies to lovers!! cutesy arranged marriage between strangers to lovers (who don’t communicate enough for them to be happy)!!! star-crossed lovers fated to kill one another!!! 

the show is so goddamn pretty!! the aesthetics!!! the cgi!!!! the costumes ohmygod, i have never wanted to buy so many headdresses before

LOOK AT THIS!!! HOW PRETTY WAS THIS!!!!

he’s got this whole demon look LOCKED IN who else does it as well as my boy tantai jin

this show is very PRETTY but make no mistake there will be a lot of angst!!! that’s part of what makes it so good!! luo yunxi does Tortured, Feral and Deranged™ SO WELL i weep every time i see him on screen, i have truly not been Okay since this show started airing, buddies please join me in till the end of the moon hell, you will not regret it, promise 😇✨

⚠❗ few post-finale thoughts so y’all go into it with full disclosure (and can’t yell at me for inflicting pain on y’all, just know what i am also Suffering™) - stop reading from here if you want no spoilers for the show at all. 

trigger warning: there is some dubcon in ep 14 (stretches between approx. the 25:00-27:25 min mark) between ming ye and sang jiu 

we were all hoping for a happy ending, but this ends on a bad-open scale, depending on how you look at it. @minmoyu​ has helpfully directed me to a happy audio-epilogue which was apparently shot but didn’t make its way into the episode?? we still dk if the footage will be released as an extra?? we can all form a prayer circle and HOPE i guess

the plot is HMM the further to the end we get, probably because they had to cut the eps down, so it’s a little choppy, esp the last few scenes??? idk idk. it’s a bit exhausting to watch towards the end, because you root for ttj so so much and he tries so so hard and SIGH. i need another few working days to digest this, i’m still a bit :/ about the ending

would i still rec the show, post-watch? yes! this show starts off really solid, and luo yunxi carried the show throughout. like. y’all thought lyx was good in ashes of love?? watch him in this. every single micro-expression was flawless. bai lu’s acting is always so dependable, and it’s the same with this show!  

this show has an a+++ ost (i mean it’s got the king and queen of cdrama osts liu yuning and zhang bichen, literally how could this be bad)!! and CERTAIN side characters are so so good (pian ran my baby girl, ye qingyu who grows on you, decidedly NOT bingchang/tian huan/mo nv although i will concede that chen duling’s acting in this show was Incredible). 

[moonselune]

Hii! I got a request idea. Astarion x durge reader (if possible male). Many times ive heard the durge being called an “unlovable carcass” and such, so maybe Astarion would reassure and comfort them, that theyre far from a unlovable being.

Thank you 🎀

-If possible? If possible! Darling it's pride month how could I say no!

(I would literally never say no regardless, I was practically raised by the LGBTQ+)

Hope you like it, I had to throw something cute in there to make it a bit more hurt/comforty type

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The campfire flickered softly, casting dancing shadows on the tents and trees around the clearing. Astarion lounged with casual elegance, his keen eyes never straying far from the brooding figure of his darling bahl babe. You sat apart, your mind troubled by whispers and memories that clawed at the edges of your consciousness.

“You look like you’re contemplating how to best brood yourself to death,” Astarion said, his tone light but eyes serious. He rose gracefully and made his way over, taking a seat beside you, his head leaning on your broad shoulder.

You let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping and disturbing your feline natured lover who simply just readjusted himself. "Sometimes I think they're right, you know," you muttered. "An unlovable carcass. A monster."

Astarion’s expression softened and he sat up, no longer leaning on you. He reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “Oh, darling, who’s been filling your head with such nonsense?”

You tried to look away, but Astarion held his gaze. “It’s not nonsense,” you said quietly. “It’s what I am.”

Astarion chuckled, a warm, rich sound that seemed to dispel some of the gloom around you. “Nonsense or not, I disagree. I find you quite...lovable.” He smirked, leaning in closer. “In fact, I’d say you’re rather irresistible.”

Your eyes flickered with a mixture of doubt and hope. “You’re just saying that.”

“Oh, am I now?” Astarion’s smirk widened. “Tell me, my brooding love, have I ever been known for sugarcoating the truth?”

Despite himself, you couldn’t help but smile slightly. “No, you haven’t.”

“There we go, a smile. Much better.” Astarion’s hand moved to caress your cheek. “Listen to me. You are far more than the sum of your past or the whispers of those who can’t see past their own grubby noses. You are strong, resilient, and yes, even lovable.”

You felt a warmth spread through his chest, the darkness receding just a bit. “You make it sound so easy.”

Astarion leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “That’s because it is. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He paused, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Now, shut me up before Karlach overhears me being sweet or gods forbid- Gale-”

You didn’t wait for him to finish his complaining. With a surge of emotion, you closed the distance, capturing Astarion’s lips in a fervent kiss and pulling him into your lap. It was a kiss that spoke of desperation and need, a frantic attempt to drown out the voices with something real and tangible. With something you truly loved.

Astarion responded eagerly, his hands tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. He broke apart only to catch his breath, but you were relentless, pressing kiss after kiss to Astarion’s lips, cheeks, and neck, as if trying to imprint every touch, every taste, into his memory. As you could replace all the bad thoughts, all the darkness with just him.

Astarion laughed breathlessly between kisses, the sound a delightful mix of surprise and joy. “You really are trying to shut me up, aren’t you?”

You finally pulled back, your breathing heavy, eyes bright with emotion, a happier emoition. “Maybe I am. Is it working?”

Astarion’s smile was radiant, a rare, genuine expression of happiness. “Oh, most definitely. But don’t stop on my account.”

You grinned, a genuine, unguarded smile. “I don’t plan to.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[thetriumphantpanda]

Tale As Old As Time | Joel Miller Fantasy AU (Chapter One)

Series Summary | A Prince, cursed to be unloved, hardened by years of staring at his scars and sitting in his loneliness. A girl, headstrong and wanting of adventure, to escape the life curated for her, a breath of fresh air against the dark of his heart and his home. Can she really learn to love the beast he has become? Truly, a tale as old as time.

Chapter Summary | The origin of a cursed Prince and a girl, unwilling to set aside her dreams for a fate already decided on, thrown together with consequences neither of them could have dreamed about.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader (Beauty and The Beast AU)

Chapter Warnings | Descriptions of magic, discussion of arranged marriages/betrothal, people being mean, an obnoxious male figure, what is essentially a kidnapping, talk of food, no use of Y/N, but I believe that to be it.

Word Count | 4.5K

Authors Note | You guys simply have no idea how truly excited I am to finally be able to share this with you. This is so out of my comfort zone but holy HELL I've had the best time creating it, and I really hope that you enjoy reading it just as much. Again, just a massive shout out to @cavillscurls for gifting this idea to me and trusting me to bring this to life for her, I really hope I do it justice for you! And another big thank you to @dinsdjrn for casting an eye over this first chapter to make sure it wasn't absolute clown shoes. I'd really love to know what you guys think, so please leave a comment, reblog or pop over to my ask to spread the love. And as always, if you'd like to leave me a tip, you can do so here on Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

He often thinks back, in the depths of the dark nights he spends alone, to the moment that changed everything. He was, once upon a time, happy. Vain, conceited and a pompous asshole, but he was happy. The kingdom, handed to him quite abruptly on the death of his father. The power and the riches which had been rationed to him before, now all his own to do with as he pleased. A palace, full of beautiful things, beautiful people, there was nothing he could have wanted for. There were parties, opulent and extravagant, filled with beautiful women who would fawn over his every word. Days spent hunting, ignoring all his other princely commitments because he could, he made the rules. 

Then, the night that changed it all. He was drunk, he’d had far too much wine, indulged in the lips of far too many women, when one of his servants gripped his arm, dragging him to the doors of the castle. On his step was a haggard old woman, bent double with the hood of a cloak covering her face. She reached out a hand, old and wrinkled, shaking from the cold of the bitter storm that was raging outside and begged. 

“Please, my lord, take pity on an old woman,” She speaks wearily, as if she’d been walking for days, “Just a night’s shelter from the storm, that’s all I seek.” 

“And what do you offer in return?” He scoffs, already knowing what his answer will be, there is no place for this woman in his home. 

The old woman pulls a singular red rose from one of her sleeves, petals full and a deep crimson and extends it towards the prince. He plucks it from her fingers and takes a moment to admire the flower, for it is, after all, a thing of beauty, although he knows it was plucked from his own garden. 

“You insult me,” He mocks, “Offering my own rose, stolen from my garden,” He lets the flower drop to the floor in front of the beggar woman, “You will not find shelter here, now, be gone.” 

He turns on his heel, intent on making it back to his party, to forget this whole intrusion, when he hears the woman behind him start to chuckle. He turns back and watches as she stands, chuckle turning into some kind of sinister laughter as that exterior that had so repulsed him before melted away to reveal someone, something, far more beautiful. The hood of her cloak falls from her head – beautiful tresses of blonde hair and a young, ethereal face stare back at him. 

“You, my prince, have an ugly soul,” She speaks, voice lilting like a song now, “And it is time that you match that.” 

He is aware that the commotion has drawn his guests from the main hall, out to witness what he is about to become, as he is surrounded by the gold tendrils of air that this woman, no, enchantress, has created. He feels the skin on his face tighten and contort, not painfully, but uncomfortably. He can feel his bones cracking as his frame grows, he’d always been bigger in frame than most, but now he was towering over everyone. His hands, once blemish free, are covered in tiny scars as if he’d spent a life fighting with his fists. His clothes, of silk and velvet, torn and destroyed on his body. 

When he can no longer feel the magic at work around his body, he turns away from the enchantress to the faces of the party, who gasp, talk amongst themselves. Some of them scream and then they’re running, as the woman behind him continues her onslaught on his home now. She drapes it in darkness, the opulent gardens are transformed to nothing but weeds and dead plants. The fountains run no more, and the sound of birdsong is gone. Then, when she is satisfied that her work is done, she bends to the discarded rose and offers it to him once more. 

“Any curse can be broken, and this one is no different,” She taunts, “If you can learn to love another, and earn their love in return, by the time the last petal falls, then the spell will be broken, otherwise, you shall remain this beast forever.”

Then, he is all alone, save for his servants, cursed alongside him, though she’d spared them the humiliation of a face covered in scars, and had just cursed them to spend eternity stuck with their master, now bitter, violent and closed off. None of them, not even him, able to leave the grounds of his castle. He falls into despair, spends his days finding another thing he can take his anger out on. He tears down the paintings – ripping through their canvas, punches his fist through every mirror he can find so he doesn’t have to look at himself and steels himself away in those first years. Then, when the first petal drops from the rose, protected in its glass case by one of his servants, he thinks there should be a sense of urgency, but there isn’t, just a daily reminder that this is what his greed and vanity had done to him. If he cannot leave, and no-one knows he or his palace exist any longer, then what hope does he have of someone finding him, let alone falling in love with him? 

For who could truly learn to love a beast? 

The morning is bright, the sun rising above the hills, as you step out, wicker basket hooked into the crook of your elbow, the book perched in the bottom, covered with a cloth to protect it as you make your way into town. The townsfolk are already milling about as you walk the streets. Women are haggling for bread and eggs, men are greeting each other in booming voices and there are children running around, playing with each other as their parents focus on other things. You don’t miss how, when you pass, they stop their conversations, whispering to each other. You know what they say about you, because no-one in this God forsaken town is ever truly quiet. Funny Girl. Oddity. Strange. Dazed and distracted. Away with the fairies. You’d heard it all, and today, like all days, you let it lie, because none of them are wrong. You are an oddity. A girl of your age, unmarried and living alone with her father, despite his recent efforts to marry you off. A girl, nose stuck firmly in a book whenever it possibly could be. A girl, dreaming of better things, a life outside the provincial village you’d always known, although what that looked like you truly didn’t know. 

You buy a loaf of bread and some cheese with the coins your father had pressed into your palm that morning, ensuring that you had everything you needed at home before indulging yourself. The bookshop, at the very end of town, was your sanctuary. Alexander, a firm friend of your father for years, had owned it since before you were born, his father and grandfather before him. He knew that like most folks around here, the price of the books you wanted to read came second to the price of the books your father needed for his work, so there was an understanding between Alexander and yourself that you borrowed yours, bringing them back to swap for a new novel whenever you needed. 

“Ah, good morning,” He greets when you open the door, bell tinkling as it opens and closes, “And how are we this morning?” 

“Fine, thank you,” You smile, offering him the book you’d chosen just yesterday, “I’ve come to return the book I borrowed.” 

He takes it from your hand, setting it on his counter to reshelve later, “You’re going to run out of things to read if you carry on this quickly,” He teases, motioning with his hand to the shelves behind him, “Nothing new since yesterday, but please, I’m sure you can find something to enjoy.” 

You spend a few moments studying the spines in front of you. There are very few here that you haven’t read, and whilst you could choose something new, there is something in your bones that craves the familiar today. A story you know will warm your heart and make you yearn for what you truly desire. 

“I’ll take this one.” You muse simply, pulling it off the shelf to hand to him. 

“This one?” He fakes shock, “You’ve read it twice already.” 

“Well, it’s my favourite,” You chuckle, “Faraway lands, magic, a handsome prince, strong women who can make their own destiny in life.” 

“Well, if you like it that much, why don’t you keep it?” He hands it over to you, laughing at the shock on your face, “Don’t try and argue with me now,” He insists, “I don’t think anyone other than you has ever chosen it, consider it a gift.” 

“Thank you,” You smile, bending down to the old man to give him a kiss on the cheek, sharing a smile as a blush creeps onto his weathered cheeks, “I shall cherish it.” 

You bid him a fond farewell and head back out onto the streets, book clutched in your arms like it was your most treasured possession. It might actually have been just that. You walk back through the crowds, basket still hooked onto your elbow as you zone in on the fountain at the edge of town. Usually reserved for washing, it’s not so crowded yet, the heat of the day still too frigid to consider dipping hands into water, so you perch on the edge, basket between your feet on the ground and open the book, promising yourself you’ll only spend a few moments familiarizing yourself with the story again. 

Of course, that’s a promise you can’t keep to yourself, and you’re rounding onto chapter three when the book in unceremoniously plucked from your hands. 

“Hey!” You exclaim, “Give that back!” 

“I just want to see what could possibly hold your attention for this long.” 

You groan to yourself. Of course. Henry. The object of all of your ire. The man your father wants you to marry. You couldn’t imagine a worse match – whilst he was objectively handsome, all of the young women fawning over him, falling over each other to impress him, he was so stuck up his own ass he could fold himself inside out if he wanted. 

“They’re called books, perhaps you should try reading one sometime?” You speak, trying to grab your book from his hands as he flips through the pages. 

“And end up like you?” He scoffs, throwing it back to you, “You need to get your head out of those pages and into the real world, you’re not getting any younger and soon, people are going to start wondering what’s wrong with you.” 

“Like they don’t already?” You mutter, dusting off the cover and placing it carefully in the basket on the floor. 

“Have you thought anymore about my proposal?” He asks, draping a thick arm across your shoulders as you try and walk away. 

You groan, because his offer of marriage is all you’ve been able to think about. Or more importantly, how to say no without ruining the hard-fought relationships your father had forged with the most powerful family in town. 

“It’s a big decision,” You say simply as you cross the bridge at the end of town, “I promise I’ll have an answer for you in a few days.” 

You manage to slip away from his grip and close the small gate behind you, turning on your heel to jog as fast as possible into your home, all whilst he’s calling out to you. Regrettably, you’re not fast enough to miss the last thing he says before the front door slams. 

“If you say no to me, no-one will have you!” 

You let your head hit the back of the door, sucking in deep breaths to stop yourself from yanking open the door and telling him that nothing in the world would ever be enough to convince you to marry him. 

“He isn’t wrong.” Your father’s voice startles you, your head turning to the door of his study. 

“I beg you, not another word.” You demand, walking in the opposite direction, towards the kitchen. 

“You’ve made him wait almost a week,” Your father’s heavy footsteps are clear behind you, “Any other woman would have fallen to their knees and agreed to the match.” 

“Well, I’m not any other woman,” You huff, unwrapping the bread and cheese to set on the table, “I don’t want to marry him, papa.” 

“Well, I’m afraid, young lady, you don’t have much choice,” He’s folded his arms across his chest, “I have worked too hard to get you under that family’s nose, and I will not let you throw that hard work away.” 

“Is this all I was ever destined to be?” You exclaim, rounding on him, “Like a prize cow to be bartered and bought on the whim of men?” 

“If your mother could see you now,” He mutters, “She would tell you exactly the same as I would.” 

“You and I both know that’s a lie,” You speak softly, “You married each other because you were in love, she wouldn’t want this for me.” 

He tries to embrace you, like he always does when he knows he’s about to force you to do something you don’t want to do, like it will make it better for you, easier for you to say yes. This time, you push him away, stepping towards the open window.

“I can’t keep you here much longer and you know it,” He sighs behind you, “Money is far too tight and if we aren’t careful, we won’t have a home much longer, you marry Henry, our debts are forgiven, you’ll be safe, warm with a home all of your own.” 

“So now I am to be payment for your debts?” You snorted, “Raised only to be worth something to sell,” Your father tries to open his mouth, no doubt to convince you otherwise, but you truly see him for what he is, “I wish to be alone.” You speak finally, picking up your book and retreating to your room with a pointed slam of the door. 

It is late. The sun set hours ago. You haven’t left your room all day, not even when your father insisted leaving a plate of food outside for you. All you can think in your mind is that you cannot stay here. You will not stay here. You will not be forced into a life you do not want, to marry a man you cannot stand. All you keep thinking, as you watch those stars twinkle in the sky, is what must be beyond the hills of this town. You think of all the people you haven’t met, all the experiences you haven’t had. You won’t trade those dreams for a life as Henry’s housewife. 

As quietly as you can muster, you slip your cloak around your shoulders, tying it across your neck, pulling the hood up over your head. You find your satchel and make sure it has your book inside and the other few possessions you held dear. You slink from your room and into your father’s study, long abandoned by him for his bedroom. You find his inkpot and quill and scrawl a note on the paper he has left strewn across his workstation. 

‘Gone to find my adventure.’ 

You slip quietly from the house and to the small stable where Phillipe, your father’s horse, is slowly chewing on some hay. You run your hand down his nose to soothe him, saddling him up and then leading him away from the house. It isn’t until you’re riding the trail into the forest that you finally feel the sense of freedom you had so craved. As Phillipe leads you further into the thick woods, you don’t once look back on the provincial life you’re abandoning. Eyes forward and onto the life you’d always wanted. 

You ride through the night, following unfamiliar paths through the forest until you come out the other side. It’s still desolate, but now, in the low morning sun, it’s just rolling fields and hills, animals grazing and the sound of birds singing. A little while later, you can feel the tightening in your tummy, the pang of hunger, cursing that you hadn’t thought, in your haste to leave, to shove some of the bread you’d bought into your bag. Phillipe has also slowed in his speed; it won’t be long before he needs to drink some water and eat something either. 

As you round a corner, a valley appears in front of you. The change in weather is stark, where you’re surrounded in bright sunshine and the start of the warmth from the early morning sun, the valley in front of you is clouded in dark grey clouds and you think you can make out the slight rumble of thunder. There is a voice in the back of your mind that tells you to turn back, to take the right at the crossroads from the forest and not the left you’d chosen, but wasn’t this the point of leaving? You take a deep breath and let Phillipe continue the ride down into the valley, wrapping your cloak as far around your body as you can as the temperature drops and the darkness envelops you. 

You ride a little while longer, Phillipe becoming restless with the change in the air, when you stumble upon a great fence, covered in ivy and looking decidedly worse for wear. But this fence, in its wrought-iron glory, is a sign of a home, a grand one judging by the height. You can’t peer into the grounds, the ivy too dense to see through, but you guide Phillipe around its perimeter until you find gates, just a grand as the rest of the iron structure. 

You let yourself down from Phillipe’s back, gripping the reigns so he continues to follow you. You try and pull at the gate, but it’s just your luck that it’s locked shut. You can, however, finally see into the grounds. They’re sweeping, some of the biggest gardens you had ever seen in your life. You can imagine that when they were cared for, they would have been magnificent, but they’re dilapidated, obviously long abandoned. In the distance, you can see a similarly magnificent castle. Incredibly big, with turrets and ivy growing over the brickwork, just like something from one of your books. You can’t see any lights that indicate it’s occupied, and you think that if you tried, you could fit through the gaps between the ironwork. It had to be worth a try, even if it was to seek some shelter whilst the storm that was clearly brewing was passing. 

You take Phillipe’s reigns and tie him to the gate, promising that you’ll come back for him once you’ve deemed the castle a safe place to stay, although you’re pretty certain he’s not fitting through the gap in the ironwork, considering the amount you had to suck your body in to fit through. 

It’s a long trek through the grounds of the castle. Each step of your foot bringing an increasing sense of unease over you. You try and tell yourself that it’s just the storm brewing, that it’s dark and clearly abandoned nature is what’s making you uneasy. When you finally reach the front of the castle, you pick the hem of your dress up and take the steps one at a time. You press a hand to the large wooden door and push, surprised that it opens without much effort. You let out a breath of relief. If someone lived here, surely, they’d keep their doors properly shut. 

That relief is short-lived though. The castle is as much in need of love and attention inside as it is outside. Years of weather have damaged the windows, letting all sorts of foliage make home in this entry way. There is a grand staircase, with carpets that are sodden from rain, and a musky smell that somehow sends a chill up your spine. 

“Hello?” You call out, listening to your voice echo through the large room. 

You listen but nothing calls back to you. All you can really hear is the wind whipping through broken glass. You take a few more tentative steps forward, taking in the surroundings. There are side tables with candelabra sat on top. Trinkets of gold and silver. Grand paintings along the walls that are weathered from the elements, but there are some that catch your eye. 

“Hello?!” You call out once more, louder this time, as you walk towards the wall of paintings. 

Some of them are damaged, like they’ve been intentionally torn. Ripped through the likeness of the man that has been painted on them, but the rest, of women and other older men, remain intact. What had this particular man done to deserve this kind of ire? To have his likeness scratched out like this? 

Your hand comes up to touch one of the damaged paintings – canvas flapping in a breeze from somewhere. The man in the painting is handsome, he looks young and fit and happy, standing with his foot on top of a deer that had been hunted. You wonder if this is the person who used to live here and what had happened to them, and everyone else, that made them leave. 

“What are you doing in my home?” 

The voice startles you enough to scream. You turn around, back pressed to the wall, chest heaving as you try and calm yourself down. Your eyes search through the darkness, trying to find where the voice had come from, but to no avail. 

“I asked you a question.” 

The voice in commanding, low and threatening, and now, pressed up against the wall, trying to make yourself as small and insignificant as possible, you almost wish you hadn’t left home. Fear thrums through your veins as you once again try to find the owner of the voice. 

“I-I’m sorry,” You manage to force out from your throat, “I c-called out, d-didn’t know a-anyone lived h-here.” 

You’re watching the ground when a foot, clad in black leather boots moves into the dim light that is cast through the broken window above you. It’s enough light that you can make out a little of the man’s silhouette. Tall, much taller than you, and broad, as commanding a presence as his voice makes him out to be, and yet he doesn’t move further into the light. 

“Didn’t your parents teach you to knock?” He demands. 

“The d-door,” You motion with your hand, watching as it shakes in front of you, “When I t-touched it, it just opened.” 

“Bad manners will get you into danger, little dove,” He taunts, “You picked the wrong home to trespass on.” 

“I’m sorry!” You exclaim, moving away from the wall and back the way you came, trying to make your escape, “I’ll leave.” 

He is quicker than you are though. His hand envelops your wrist, much larger than your own, and drags you toward him. Your front collides with his own with the strength that he’s used to pull you to him. His frame is a solid as it seems, like hitting a brick wall. 

“Another lesson your parents clearly forgot to teach you,” You look up to the voice but it’s so dark you still can’t make any of his features out, “When you do bad things, you have to be punished.” 

You try and fight your way out of his grip but it’s no use. Whoever this man is in front of you, he clearly has the upper hand in strength and agility. But you aren’t going to go down without a fight. You continue pulling at your wrist, wrapping your free hand around the one that has you in a vice grip, digging your fingernails into his skin as you try and scream for help, but nothing seems to work. 

You’re suddenly picked up and flipped over his shoulder like a sack of flour, which gives you the purchase to wriggle around. You ball your fists and take punches to his solid back, but all that does is create a dull throb in your hands.

“Put me down!” You scream, trying to kick your feet enough for him to lose his grip on your as he takes the stairs two at a time. 

“I would advise you to keep still,” He speaks low and calm, “Unless you want to end up thrown over the railings.” 

From your completely undignified vantage point you can tell he’s right. He’s keeping a grip on you but if you continue to wriggle, all that awaits you is a drop onto that cold concrete floor below. As he takes more steps upwards, all you can do is let the fear take over. Your body shakes as tears fill your eyes, dripping down onto the floor as this mystery brute takes you to God knows where. 

It's colder up here, wherever here is. As he walks up yet more stairs, you make out the clear iron bars of cell doors. And your stomach drops. You wanted adventure and now all you get is a prison cell. You can hear him fiddling with a lock, before a creaking sound meets your ears and you’re unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. You try and crawl as fast as you can, hell bent on an escape, but yet again, your captor is faster than you are, shutting the door to the cell and clicking the lock to trap you. 

“Please let me go!” You beg, hands clinging around the bars, “I didn’t steal anything, please let me go!” 

He’s walking away, back down the spiral stone staircase he had come up. Silent and seemingly uncaring in your plight. You continue to call after him, even once his figure is long gone, hands pulling at the bars in an attempt to free yourself, but all clearly to no avail. You slump onto the damp floor and take some heaving breathes through your mouth, but nothing will calm the fear and dread coursing through you. How could this have gone so wrong? Not even a day’s ride from home and you’re captured, no-one will know where you are. Would anyone even come looking for you? 

You continue to pull at the bars until your bones out, calling into the dark until you’re hoarse. Finally accepting your fate, that you’d been naive enough to walk into the first sign of shelter like it was your right, you curl up into a ball in a corner of the call further from the window and wrap your cloak around you, shivering until you fall into the most fitful sleep you’ve ever experienced. 

tags : @sinsofsummers @dinsdjrn @tightjeansjavi @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @cavillscurls @cupofjoel @patti7dc @drewharrisonwriter

[stevebcks]

Okay so I haven’t been able to stop thinking about episode three and especially Ed’s plotline in it (and the final scene of course), so here’s a not so short messy analysis of what I’ve been thinking.

MAJOR SPOILERS JUST IN CASE…

As a short background, we start with Ed almost dead after he has basically been begging the rest of the crew to kill him. First Izzy, when he gives him the gun, then the rest of them when he sails them into a storm, trying to get them and himself killed, but instead still getting what he wanted when they turn against him. We get our final hint at how this is what he always wanted when he says “Finally.” as Jim lifts the cannonball.

And we start with Ed now in this purgatory state. I would assume this entire place is created by Ed since it is so deeply connected to him. And we learn that he also creates Hornigold as a representation of himself, of the subconscious parts of himself talking to him, and he hates this guy deeply.

This place puts the cards on the table for Ed.

“So if you hate me and I am you, then…”

“I hate myself.”

He gets to understand the hate he feels for this guy is really what he feels for himself. But it’s not only that, we see the reaction he has when he first sees Hornigold. He fears himself, what he is capable of doing to others, disgusted by the stories of what Hornigold has done (like Felix’s death) in the place of what he has done.

Everything Hornigold says, is really just his most hidden inner thoughts coming to the surface.

“You’re not very good with people, are you, Jeff?” His biggest fear, the one he has only ever been able to admit to Stede is displayed right there for him. How he believes every bad thing he has ever done is the reason he is unlovable, why he doesn’t have any friends.

“Maybe you wanna strangle me like you did your old dad.”

“How the fuck did you know that?”

“Grown man covered in tattoos. Ay? With daddy issues.”

“I never told anyone about that.”

“But you did, though, didn’t you? And he left you.”

“Fuck you.”

“And it all boils down to this. You’re afraid you are unlovable.”

Not only that but he believes that is also the reason Stede leaves him. Stede leaving puts salt in a wound he was only starting to heal. He once again believes he is inherently an evil person, unworthy of anyone but even less, of Stede.

“You gotta move on, man... or you blow your brains out.” But to some degree, he knows what he has to do in order to continue, he knows that if he really wants to live, to truly live, he needs to forgive himself of the past things he has done. It’s either that or… or what he did which is getting himself killed.

His choice is final (or so he believes…) when he is on the edge of the cliff. Hornigold, or really himself, has tied the rock to his waist and is ready to throw it. And as he said it with the pros and cons list, “I don’t think anyone’s waiting for me.” so there really is no point for him to go back.

“I’m not lovable.”

“And you’re scared to do anything about it. But old Hornigold, he ain’t scared.”

Ed knows, he knows "doing anything about it" is going back to life, face what he has done, fighting for Stede and for the person he wants to be. But his subconscious, his fear, is stronger.

“You’ve made your choice.” Hell, not only is this admitted by Hornigold, we literally see him at the beginning of episode two throwing himself, or really his little cake topper, to the water from the window. And Hornigold, or really his subconscious, throws the rock.

Then Stede finds him.

And when Stede finds him all it takes is for him to remove the towel from his face for him to open his eyes as he sinks in the water.

Him feeling Stede’s presence sparks something in him in this purgatory. And he starts fighting against the rope that he put himself in. But this is a world he has created so he still has control over it, and subconsciously, he still believes he is unlovable, unworthy, he is still not sure he deserves to be untied.

And then Stede starts asking HIM for forgiveness, and he fights and he fights, and he wants this so badly that in the real world he starts fighting too, tapping his fingers against the wood and begging Stede to keep talking, to keep leading the way with his voice. And he does.

As he takes Ed’s hand, he literally also shines a light and illuminates the surface. In the midst of this world of self-hatred, there is the voice of a person who, seeing past everything, loves him.

And the rope unties itself, in this moment his whole self fully believes that he is worthy of love, that he deserves this and he deserves Stede and that he deserves to live. This is Ed allowing himself to have this.

The flashbacks start, Ed remembers these moments and sees what he can still have, thinks “Maybe someone IS waiting for me.” as Stede keeps begging him to wake up.

And then, through the light, he sees merman Stede. And oh, how important this is. He has been seeing Hornigold, the person he hated the most in life, during all his time in purgatory, but now, now the reflection of his subconscious becomes the person he loves the most. Stede, Stede as a sea creature coming to save him. Stede, as a reflection of Ed’s subconscious telling himself, you are worthy of this, you are lovable, and you can love yourself.

The kraken, this fearful sea monster, is saved by the merman.

Stede is finally right there, and when they are finally face to face, Ed reaches for a kiss, and in that moment, he opens his eyes.

[mayasaura]

Gideon feels so unloved all the time and she doesn’t know that there are so many people who love her so much because those people keep forgetting to mention it to her face

I know what you mean. I want to just shake Harrow like a kitten to make her tell her!!

In way tho, to me, the tragedy of Gideon's life is that she feels unloved, and for the most part she's been right. She's bright, brilliant, funny, strong, dedicated, kind, stubborn, so so angry, and very loveable. And she hasn't been loved. Not enough, and not well enough by those that did.

Harrow's loved her... Probably their whole lives, but just try untangling that knot. She has a lot of ground to make up, and only got her shit together enough to start showing Gideon she loves her about sixteen hours before Gideon died. Sixteen hours, half of those spent asleep, against a lifetime of rejection. It's not really surprising Gideon doesn't believe her yet.

Aiglamene basically raised her, and she does love her, and I am deeply unwell about their relationship. I'm also a little glad Gideon never learned to associate the back of Aiglamene's hand with "love". That she knows there should be something better. I suspect—maybe I hope—Aiglamene did that on purpose.

Pyrrha has loved her since she was born, but she's only just barely met her. Her love didn't lead her down to the surface of the Ninth. She never tried to give her baby girl a funeral, and so never found out she was still alive. Her love did jackshit for Gideon all her life, and that might be hard for Gideon to get over.

There have been brushes with it, with other people. Palamedes, who was the closest thing she had to a friend outside Harrow. He held her hand and comforted her, and made sure she wouldn't be caught in his blast radius. Camilla who gave her medical care, and shared with her a mutual trust, and even made a joke at her expense once. Jeannemary, who thought she was super cool and died the same day Gideon first spoke to her. Coronabeth, who kissed her hand once and thought she was sweet. There was love there, with some, and the potential with others. None of these people knew her for more than the last few weeks of her life.

Gideon really truly hasn't been loved as a transitive verb. Someone finally telling her to her face would be a good start, but at this point I don't know what it's gonna take for her to trust. And I don't blame her.

[savagewildnerness]

“…desperately alive and desperately fragile…”

But Lestat is talking about himself here as well as New Orleans…

[Unspoken] Louis, Louis, could you truly kill me? I know I deserve it. I deserve death, I do. But am I not desperately alive as New Orleans is too? And desperately fragile. If I am unloveable, could you not show mercy upon at least the art of me instead? On the savage wilderness of my soul?

“…I am she, she is me...”

I just never know what’ll turn into a cacophony and what into a Romantic ode, but here we are…

"I’m going to miss this place. There isn’t an inch of this city that wasn’t built from the fierce wilderness that surrounds it. Hurricanes, floods, the damp climate on every painted sign, every stone facade. High windows, through which bits of civilization glitter. Silhouettes emerging, wandering out to catch a silent flash of lightning. The silky warmth of summer rain, desperately alive and desperately fragile..."

Dear Rolin, please give Sam Reid ALL OF THE ANNE RICE PROSE to say in S3, because the beauty of this, with the context that here, Lestat knows Louis is about to kill him... yet Lestat simply doesn't believe Louis can go through with it.... and how does Lestat think he could change Louis' mind? Is it by begging him - "I know your plan, but PLEASE DO NOT DO THIS! I LOVE YOU, MORE THAN MYSELF!!?!" Nope, Lestat speaks with art, poetry - knowing *he* could never murder when he feels the art in some thing so deeply, so surely himSELF (who he feels DOES deserve death) aside, he tries his only hope…. Lestat could not kill such art… Perhaps Louis, too could not kill THE ART of …Lestat? A final hope….

[v3nusxsky]

I have been craving more smutty Lesso fics. Do you think you could maybe write Lesso x reader where lesso has had to hide feelings for reader until the graduate. so when they finally graduate lesso cannot control herself anymore and so pulls reader away to her office where she admits everything to reader and then shows them that she means it buy absolutely worshiping their body and showering them whith so much praise.

{I love your writing so much and I am just looking forward to seeing more lesso smut :) Don't worry if you don't want to write this. }

Can’t wait anymore

*Authors note~ I love Leo and I’ve missed writing for her. I do love all of these women I write for and I find them all inspiring. With my shoulder playing up I’m not so sure how consistent my posts will be but truly I love all you guys so very much and I’m so lucky to have your support*

Trigger warnings~ dom lesso, sub r praise kink body worshipping oral sex unknown mutual pinning thigh riding

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Watching you grow over your years at the school for evil Leonora found herself watching you from afar. You were of legal age when the school found you, but you still had to do the schooling in the appropriate pattern, you remained the oldest of your year and it wasn't hard to spot you in a crowded room. Leonora liked that about you. You weren't afraid to stand out and of course that allowed her many opportunities to push and help you grow as a person.

You were lying if you said you didn't find Leonora Lesso absolutely beautiful. She was your kind of perfect. You know she sees herself as this unlovable woman who deserves nothing but pain. Oh how you wished to show her how truly wonderful she is. Buy the little rule of no staff and student relationship exists so you waited and admired from afar until your graduation came. In no way did you think that Leonora would actually allow you to indulge in your private fantasies. But oh how wrong you were. Leonora was battling her own feelings for you.

She did her part for the graduation seamlessly, it wasn't obvious about her pinning or the way her eyes roamed your body as you walked the huge stage. But as soon as the graduation was over, Leonora took your hand and led you quietly from the great hall. You didn't know where too or why she was doing this now but if you were honest, you didn't quite care anymore. After all you were sure you could turn a trip to the doom room in your favour now.

But what Leonora did next shocked you, you were led to her own private chambers, something that no never had ever seen before apart from you. You didn't have much time to question it because the red head silenced you with her lips by slamming them onto your own. The kiss conveying the years of pinning and feelings she had hid away. You were quick to respond and try to dominate the kiss but submitted at the feeling of her teeth sinking into your puffy bottom lip.

"Y/n, tell me you want this, tell me you feel the same. I'm crazy about you pretty girl and I want you more than I want Evil to beat good" Leonora purred at you causing you to gulp and nod, "I always want you Nora." You again slammed your lips to hers as you threw your arms around her neck, truly wanting to get impossibly closer to her. "Gonna worship you my princess" Leo mumbled against your lips and smiled as she backed you against a wall absolutely adorning the gasp you let loose at your back making contact with the wall. She took advantage of that and trailed her kisses all down your neck before finding your pulse point and sucking hard enough to create a mark.

Your brain already in a haze, Leonora easily manhandled you to the bed where you where pushed on your back as she settled in between your soft thighs. From there items of clothing were slowly torn from your body and every inch of new skin was kissed and caressed with the upmost gentleness. It was slow and passionate, you found yourself struggling to focus on her words of worship as you soaked in the feeling of her touch. It was everything and more, than you could've dreamed of.

Soon enough you lay bare and Leonora was back to worshipping your beautiful breasts like the goddess you are, she would nip suck and swirl her tongue over the pert rosey buds. "Nora! I need you please I need you so bad!" You whined feeling so overwhelmed and desperate that you may actually combust if she doesn't fuck you soon. "Shhh you're so beautiful darling, I just want you to feel special love, I've waited so long for this" she murmured before kissing you again.

All of a sudden, you felt her bare skin minus her keeping her crisp white shirt and undergarments on. Her kisses trailed down to your thighs and they were decorated with her marks, the pinkish purple bruises contrasted with your beautiful skin, truly Leonora had never had such a pretty little thing in her bed but you were worth all of the waiting and more. And the moment you felt her tongue at your soaked foods you could've cried. "Nora" you mewled causing the red head to groan into your cunt at the sound and taste that was so uniquely you.

If there was one thing you were sure of was that the dean of evil was utterly amazing in bed, the way she was using her tongue was unlike nothing you'd ever heard of, god the way she made you feel and that talented tongue would haunt your dreams forever. Just the mere thoughts of an encore. Safe to say Leonora is truly magical and you are lucky to have experienced her like this. And the way you came harder than you ever had before, practically drenching her face as she shoved her tongue into your tight little hole in an attempt to get as much of your sweet reward as she could. Your walls spasming around her tongue as she tongue fucked you through your orgasm. "You look so beautiful when you come for me sweet girl."

She helped soothe you down from your orgasm with nothing but gentle words and touches, ignoring her own need in favour of loving on you. It was only when you were tugging her up to meet your lips that her soaked pantie clad cunt made contact with your toned thigh. "Oh fuck sweet girl, Jesus Christ" your whimpered before kissing you senseless. Only then you were overcome with the need to make her cum that you brought your hands to her hips to encourage her to rut against your thigh until she could no longer stay strong, seeing you underneath her was all she needed to cum undone, with your name on her lips. "Oh Nora you're gorgeous" you mumbled and trailed your hands from her waist under her white shirt to play with her chest. "Best graduation ever" you whispered lustily and pressed your knee into her centre again. You'd be here in her bed all day and night as long as it never ends.

Word count~ 1209

[sapphicthunderhead]

TMA SPOILERS AHEAD:

I think it’s time for an Annabelle Cane retrospective because I will. Never. Be over her.

She is the neglected (Jon parallel) youngest child of a large family. She ran away (Jon parallel) in a bid for attention. Mother of Puppets marked her (Jon parallel) through an incident involving an old woman, a place she wasn’t meant to be, and a giant motherfucking spider (Jon parallel).

Years later, she’s at Surrey University. She’s probably a psych major, probably nice to janitors, definitely has an eccentric sense of style. (I heard her character description for the first time— heard “vintage clothing store exploded on her”— and that, I think, is when I began to fall for her.)

She volunteers to participate in a crackpot experiment, the details of which she knows very little. (Was there a control group mentioned? No. There never is when it comes to testing “psychic abilities.” Were the other participants made to sign NDAs so they couldn’t disclose details of their part of the so-called experiment to the public or to Annabelle, leaving her suggestible, and thus making the whole enterprise susceptible to producing skewed results? Evidently not.)

Through this “experiment,” she becomes a receptacle for fear, a vessel for the essence of the Web. Of course she does! She has some severe mommy issues, as established in the statement she left in the house on Hilltop Road, and the Mother of Puppets has decided to treat her like the favorite daughter she always wanted to be. It is an ideal arrangement for both parties.

Now she feeds. She nearly dies. Her apotheosis is a resurrection. She is full of spiderweb. She escapes; she disappears.

Onto the creation of Chelicerae. She functionally becomes a serial killer. She fills people up with spiders.

She finds her brother in the ranks of the Mother of Puppets’ forces, Neil Lagorio, and catalyzes his final transformation into the spider monster in Creature Feature. (That’s either him or the director, but I lean towards the former.)

She uses every means available— the internet, entertainment industry, her own skill at interpersonal manipulation— to instill the fear of helplessness, of futility, of autonomy being denied or never having existed in the first place, in the hearts and minds of mankind. She does all this in order to engineer an end that benefits her. She becomes the epitome of selfishness and of cruelty, but also of cunning and resourcefulness. She possesses a foresight of such clarity it seems as if she’s become the Web’s prophet. She possesses qualities of a folk hero, a demigod, a biblical figure. (I am as in awe of her as I am delightfully frightened.)

When the end comes, she is prepared. She has accounted for all possible outcomes. Only one variable remains independent: the plus-one to her parallel— the one card she was never able to play, the piece she could never take for herself. That’s because Martin Blackwood is an active participant, not a pawn. By the time they finally confront one another face-to-face, he knows the rules of the game almost as well as she does. Both he and Annabelle have always moved in the shadows, but his intent was to be underestimated and hers was to inspire fear, and he does not fear her (not like he feared his mother, or being unloved, and he has conquered both of these).

So she doesn’t fill him with spiders. She grows, she changes, she adapts. She becomes truly monstrous; her physical form at last reflects her inner self. She places her bets, plays the last card up her sleeve, and waits for her opponent to make his move.

And she wins.

(Marry me marry me marry me you can have my heart I would treat you so well Annabelle pretty please marry me marry me—)

[narcissisticpdcultureis]

self diagnosed NPD culture is not wanting ANYONE that isn't your family or super close to you to see how you truly are on the inside.

I don't want people seeing my bitter, envious and short tempered side, I don't want people to see my most unloveable side, I don't want people to know why I'm so hard to like and why I'll stay alone and without friends, at least until I learn how to control my feelings and how to not obsess over the few that actually seem to understand and accept me as I am.

I really want to be loveable and perfect, I hate when people tell me that no one is perfect, because I am SUPPOSED to be the most PERFECT person in the world, well mannered, funny, social.. so what am I if I'm not perfect? If I don't mask or force myself to be something that I'm not, all that I'm left with is just.. everything bad about me. Sure, I'm smart and.. friendly, I guess, but what if me being kind is just yet another mask? It probably is, I honestly couldn't care less about others. But still.. I don't wanna acknowledge that I'm like that, so I suppose I'll just.. have to lie to myself that I do care about others, maybe that way I'll be less lonely..

maybe that way I'll finally manage to care, at least a bit.

— 🦔🏝️

.

[littlemissaddict]

Can I request a Steve fic 🫣? Something along the lines of reader is struggling with anxiety and only needs Steve to reassure her…. It can be smutty or fluffy…. Or both… I’ll leave that up to you

I love your writing! Steve is so so cute 🥰 keep up the good work 🤗🤗

Thank you, it means to much to know people like my writing. I hope this was along the lines of what you were looking and I'm sorry it took me so long to get done.

Word Count: 3192

A/n: This does contain smut so if you're just here for the fluff don't worry it can be read with or without the smut so I've put a cut in just before it starts so you know where to stop.

She was studying or that's what she'd told herself anyway. The truth was her textbooks and notes from class were spread out around her on top of the duvet but she hadn't touched a single one of them since she'd laid them down. It had been her intention to study, with finals coming up she wanted to be prepared but within ten minutes or so she'd already zoned out and had been for the past, well she wasn't sure how long it had been as she didn't even know what time it was now. All she knew was that her vision was hazy, her eyes had long since glazed over with unshed tears and her legs ached from however long she'd been sat crossed legged on the bed.

It wasn't until Steve's greeting that she'd realised what she was doing but then it was too late to hide it because Steve had already seen and the look of concern he was sporting was enough to make her feel worse than she already was. "Angel what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft as he spoke and not even his childhood nickname for her cheered her up.

When she didn't answer, he carefully shifted her papers and books and moved them over to her desk out of the way so that they didn't get messed up as he knew she still needed them. Then he climbed onto the bed, sitting in front of her in the same crossed legged position as his hands reached out to gently brush against her legs. “You know you can tell me anything, right? We’re best friends it’s what I’m here for” he reassured and then in one last ditch attempt to make her smile he added, “I’m sure it can’t be any worse than that ridiculous crush you had on Billy Hargrove”

A small watery laugh left her lips at the thought, although he couldn’t have been further from the truth as it was never Billy she’d had a crush on, she’d just told him that so he’d stop asking her. It was short lived, the laughter as she lifted her head to finally meet his eyes, those soft brown eyes looking at her with nothing but softness, drawing her in and almost making her forget why she was upset.

“Am I really so unlovable?” she blurts out, unable to keep it to herself any longer.

“Of course you’re not, where is this coming from” he asks, brow furrowed in confusion as his head tilts a little to the right as he waits for her to continue.

“Is it not obvious, I mean all the boys I try to get to know only want one thing from me and then they leave as soon as they get it. And the only one I have ever truly had real feelings for doesn’t even like me that way, instead he’s stuck on someone who’s smarter, prettier and all round better than me in every way” she rambles, a stray tear falling from her eyes which he’s quick to wipe away with a gentle swipe of the pad of his thumb against her cheek.

“Hey don’t say that, you’re smart and pretty and there is no one that compares to you, alright Angel?” he questions as his hand moves from her cheek to rest under her chin as he lifts her head from where she’s dropped it so that she can see in his eyes that he means every word.

“Don’t-Don’t do that” she shakes her head as he asks her what she means, “Say stuff like that, give me hope that you actually mean it and like me the way I like you because it’s just cruel Steve. I’m barely holding on right now and you lying to me might just push me over the fucking edge so please just don’t” she manages to get out, pushing his hands away from her and furiously wiping at her eyes in a feeble attempt to hide the tears that are now falling freely.

Her confession seems to have rendered Steve speechless as the pieces fall into place and she half expects him to just get up and walk out because clearly she just ruined their friendship, dropping that on him like that when he doesn’t like her back. Only he doesn’t move, not away from her anyway but she does feel the bed shift seconds before she feels his hands on her face again, holding her so that she can’t look away from him.

“So you’re telling me that you love me?” he questions, his voice and his face giving no indication to what he’s thinking and figuring she can’t ruin this any more than she already has, she doesn’t lie to him as she nods in answer. “And the girl that I’m supposedly stuck on, who you think is in your words ‘smarter, prettier and all round better than you’ is Nance?” he asks just for clarification to make sure he’s understanding her, even though he already knows the answer before she nods.’

Sighing in response, he can’t help but shake his head as he takes his hands from her face to pinch the bridge of his nose as he tries to work out just how she can be so oblivious to his feelings for her, “Angel, I’m going to let you in on a little secret and you’re probably not going to believe me but know that I would never lie to you” he tries to reason with her, his voice wavering slightly as he speaks, “but it’s not Nancy that I’m stuck on”

She gives him a pointed look, crossing her arms over her chest as she worries the plush of her bottom lip between her teeth. Steve, not stuck on Nancy, that had to be the biggest lie he’d ever told her even if he said he wasn’t lying. From what he’d told her it was a messy break up and she was the one to end it, even going so far as to call their whole relationship ‘bullshit’, but Steve didn’t give up, taking it upon himself to go to her house with flowers and practically beg her to get back together with him. Unfortunately for him that never happened.

“Nancy is great and I know I tried hard to make it work with her even after well everything but I didn’t tell you the whole reason as to why we broke up” he sighed like this was hard for him to admit to and maybe it was because she’d didn’t have a clue where Steve was headed with this right now but she waited patiently for him to speak, it was only fair as she’d said what she wanted to now it was his turn. “When she said our whole relationship was bullshit, she wasn’t exactly lying” he says slowly, pausing to take a deep breath as his hand runs down his face. “I like Nancy, I do but not in the same way I knew she felt for me, well in the beginning anyway, you see I think I’ve always been in love with you and I didn’t think that you would ever feel the same so I thought that I could move on and Nancy would fill that gap but I know now that was cruel of me to use her like that” he reveals, a sad smile on his face and she notices how his hands fidget with the duvet cover as he speaks.

It takes her a few seconds to process what he’d just said and even longer to believe it. He loves her, not Nancy, her. The smile lights up her face but he doesn’t see it as now he’s the one to drop his head as his eyes focus on the duvet cover that he’s twisting in his hands. Without a second thought she leans closer to him, this time it’s her hands guiding his face up and towards her own but he still can’t quite meet her eyes not that that means anything as her eyes are already fluttering closed just as she softly brushes her lips against his. She pauses for a second to give him chance to pull away if this isn’t what he wants but he doesn’t, instead he’s closing the miniscule gap between them and presses his lips more firmly into hers as he kisses her fiercely as if her kisses are the only thing keeping him alive.

She doesn’t complain because she’s been wanting this for just as long, if not longer than Steve has and she tries to pour all that into the kiss as if the one kiss is supposed to make up for all the time they’ve lost that they could’ve been doing this for. By the time they pull away, her lips are tingling and her chest is heaving from lack of oxygen but her eyes are shining brightly as she looks up at him and finds his expression mirroring her own.

“So does that mean I get to call you mine now?” he asks, his tone teasing but there's a lilt of nerves creeping in.

“I’ve always been yours Steve but I guess this makes it official” she giggles, sealing it with a chaste kiss to his lips which is followed by more giggles as he tries to follow her lips for more kisses and whines when she pulls out of his reach.

“Yeah? I like the sound of that” he hums, deciding he doesn’t like the space between them as he pulls her closer until she’s sitting atop his still crossed legs, “Now we just have to let people know” he smiles mischievously up at her seeing as she’s now slightly taller than him from where she’s sat on his lap.

“Oh yeah and what did you have in mind Ste-ah” she gasps as she feels his lips wetly pressing against the side of her neck as he mouths at her skin, soft sucking and nibbling that has shivers running down her spine and her eyes rolling back at the sensations. She finds herself holding onto his shoulders for support as she rolls her head further to the side to give him more room to kiss until he’s happy with the marks he’s left and he’s pulling away to admire them and the girl in his lap.

Smiling to himself as he takes in her flustered form, his eyes trailing up from her heaving chest to her kiss bitten lips and then up to her eyes which are still closed. “You still with me, Angel?” he chuckles, swiping his thumb across the plush of her bottom lip and watching as her eyes flutter open revealing her lust blown pupils staring back at him which takes him by surprise that she got that worked up after a little bit of neck kissing. Although it doesn’t quite prepare him for her to slip his thumb into her mouth on a second pass of it over her lips, all his blood rushes south as she begins sucking and swirling her tongue around it as if it was his cock instead as her eyes stay locked on his. “You’re killing me here Angel, I’m not going to be able to stop if you keep this up” he groans as she hums around his thumb in acknowledgement, the vibrations of it going straight down to his cock as he can feel his pants growing tighter.

“I don’t want you to stop, Stevie” she pleads, pulling her mouth of him with a popping sound as the digit slips free from her lips. “Please I need you to show me I’m yours” she begs all high pitched and whiny as she takes his hand and guides it down from where it rests on her hip until he’s cupping her through her leggings where he can feel her wetness soaking through the material.

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels how wet she is, trying to control himself so he doesn’t cum in his pants before they’ve even begun. The thought leaves him feeling ridiculous like he’s some fresh faced virgin who’s never had sex before but that’s what she does to him, every touch from her leaving him giddy with excitement for what’s about to happen.

Unable to keep things slow any longer, he’s pulling his sweater over his head and throwing it to the side without sparing a second thought for where it lands before he’s moving onto her shirt and doing the same with it. His breath catches in his throat when he turns back to find that she’s already undone the clasp of the bra and is sliding it down her arms to reveal her boobs to him, the sight of them makes his mouth water and he wants nothing more that to kiss them but he knows they’re far to worked up for that just now. He settles for a few quick pecks as he guides her to lay back on the bed so that he can work on getting their pants off and getting them one step closer to what they’re both desperate for.

“God damn you’re beautiful” he breathes, almost awestruck as he takes in the sight of her bare body before him, “I swear I’m so damn lucky to have you all to myself” he mumbles against her lips, unable to resist kissing her again now that he had permission to do so.

“Steve please, no more teasing, need you” she pleads as she pulls away from yet another kiss. She was more than happy that he wanted to appreciate her body but right now there was a fire burning within her and only Steve could clench it.

“You got it Angel” he salutes, making her laugh as he begins unbuckling his belt, followed by his jeans and then he’s pushing them and his boxers down his legs all at once. Once they’re off, he quickly reaches into his pocket for his wallet where he finds the small square foil that he pulls out before wasting no time in crawling back onto the bed where she’s waiting for him. In his absence he notices she’s taken things into her own hands, quite literally as he swats at her hands where they’re nestled between her thighs, fingers running through her pussy and over her clit. “As hot as it is to watch you play with yourself, it’s my turn to make you feel good” he smirks as she nods eagerly, reclining her body so that she’s propped up on her elbows to watch him.

He begins the task of rolling on the condom, bringing the square packet up to his mouth and ripping it open with his teeth but playing it up in an attempt to make it look sexy which only has her giggling again. “Can I?” she asks once the giggles have subsided, holding out her hand and waiting for him to hand it to her, smirking up at him once it’s in her grasp.

“No playing Angel, I need to be inside you when I cum” he warns, noticing the look on her face as she begins to roll the plastic over his length, squeezing as she does so despite his warnings and revelling in his gasps and moans. “God I need to be inside you right now” he curses as she comes to a stop at the base of his cock and giving one final squeeze she lines him up with her hole, letting him take control again as he starts to push into her.

She moans at the feeling of his cock stretching her out, her hands blindly grabbing for him and pulling him down so that they’re chest to chest and he has to support himself on his elbows by the sides of her head. “M’so full Steve” she babbles as he bottoms out inside of her, pausing to let her adjust to his size until she gives him the go ahead to move and then he’s pulling out and slowly pushing back in again, letting her feel every bump and ridge of his cock sliding inside her.

Their movements are slow and controlled despite their need for each other but tonight is about exploring the others body, getting a feel for the other for the first time besides they’ll have plenty of time to fuck like animals in the future.

“You feel so good, I’m so close, please tell me you’re close too” he rambles, mixed with moans and grunts as his hips speed up, snapping into her to meet her hips.

She nods into his neck as her breath comes out in pants and moans, unable to speak because of how good the pleasure feels coursing through her and it only intensifies when he pulls her legs up to wrap around his hips. The change in angle has them both moaning loudly as he finds that spot inside her which has her seeing stars and as her body begins to tense they both know she’s teetering on the edge of cumming. Only seconds later she’s clenching around him as she cums, wave after wave of pleasure and the tight, wet heat of her body as it happens is enough to tip Steve over the edge as well and he cums in the condom with his face buried in her neck which muffles the sounds of his groans.

They are quiet while they catch their breaths, more than content in basking the the feel of each other post bliss that is until the uncontrollable urge to laugh fills her body and then her body’s shaking with laughter rather than pleasure but the whole thing leaves Steve confused. “I wasn’t that bad was I?” he pouts as he pulls his face away from her neck and stares down at her with wide eyes.

She shakes her head in response, trying to find the words to tell him how she feels. “I just never thought we’d get this and now to be here after some pretty great sex I guess it just feels like a crazy dream” she smiles, following her words with a more than content sigh.

“Oh so you dream about me?” He teases with a smirk and she pushes at his chest as she turns her head to hide the way the heat is growing on her face but she can’t hide the smile that seems to be a permanent fixture. “I promise you it’s not a dream” he reassures in a soft voice, gently turning her head back so that she’s facing him as he softly brushes his nose against hers before he leans further down to follow it with a soft kiss that makes her melt until he pulls back with the smirk returning to his face. “Give me five minutes and I can prove that this is no dream” he means it as a statement though it comes out sounding like a question, one that she eagerly nodding to in reply as she pulls him down for another kiss, letting him reignite that fire inside her.

[hughiecampbelle]

72 Hours (Roman Roy Oneshot)

Character/s: Roman

Word Count: 1,409

Warning/s: hospital, hospital tw, mental health, mental health tw

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: This is something different lol. December of 2020 I checked myself into a psychiatric hospital :) It was scary and new, but it was definitely necessary. I don't think it should be a taboo subject. It's definitely not something my immediate family will or likes to bring up, but it's also not something to be ashamed of, y'know? Idk. I've been feeling bad again. Not like in 2020, that was- it was very bad, but still not great. It happens. Meds stop working. The heaviness sets in. I use writing to get through it, those bad feelings, so that's what I'm doing. Just know you're not alone when you're feeling bad. My inbox is always open, I am always willing to talk 💜💜💜💜💜💜

They are terrible thoughts. Horrible, repulsive, aching thoughts that feed off everything you are. They see the worst in you. When you’re done, that’s all there is left. The most repulsive parts of you. The bare, naked, scarred bones. You used to fear you were a bad person. A truly sinister, evil person. Now you don’t have to worry. Now you know. You are. Selfish, and evil, and a burden. Unlovable, unkind, undesirable. He doesn’t love you, not really, and he wouldn’t miss you. No one would. You’re sure of it. You’re so sure of it your bones ache. They long for the soil, muddy and rich. Your whole body wishes to be put to rest. To finally find peace. Being alive hurts. It hurts so bad sometimes. It takes everything out of you to roll from one side to the other. Things have taken up space in your bed. Books sleep soundly next to you, begging to be read. Notes, loose paper, begging to be written. You hope, in nestling with them, loving them even in rest, that they will save you from yourself. They will drag you out of this abyss you’ve found yourself falling in for a long time now. If there is a bottom, you haven’t found it yet. Every second of every minute you flinch, expecting your head to crack open, expecting your neck to snap on that solid ground. It never comes though. How much darker can things get? How much longer do you have before the light, the shrinking light, clouds over? You fear, when this is over, that everything will be gone. You will be gone. Forever. Your own mortality hangs in the balance. You claw at the rocky walls, your fingernails bloody, ripping apart. You scream so loud, for hours, but no one is near enough to hear you.

Is it my fault? Those are the first words from his mouth, the first thought behind those puppy dog eyes. You hold his face, his stubble scratchy in your palms. Did I do something wrong? You make sure your words are stern, but not scary, not angry. He bruises too easily, your peach. No. None of this is your fault. I just, I have to go away for a few days and figure things out. That’s all. 72 hours. Then I’ll be home. You muster a smile, the edges of your mouth heavy in their upturned state. He looks so small, so worried, shaking hands at his side. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. Neither do you. It’s always been something in your life. An endgame. An option when you run out of options. You talked it over with your therapist, loved and trusted, and they too believe this could be beneficial. Your bag is packed for three days. Three days apart. Basically a weekend. You can do that, right? You can manage, he can, too. You don’t think you have any other choice. Standing there, your bag at your feet, you feel the heaviness. The weight. You want to finally collapse inward like a star, bright and burning and suicidal. He looks you over, your expression, your body, everything you are. You will understand him to understand, to get it, but you don’t need to. He already does. It wasn’t an easy decision to come to. None of this has been. But if you want the hurt to stop, if you want to stop falling, then you need to leave and get help. 

He picks your shirt from the laundry, holding it against his chest. He wanders around the apartment, massive, lonely without you by his side. It smells like you, the fabric. You hadn’t changed out of it in a week, week and a half. Sweaty, you’d argue, but he likes it. It’s familiar. Roaming like a ghost, restless, trapped. Mostly you sunk into the mattress, the sheets melding into your skin until you were one singular being. The tears, silent, hidden, but not quite. Coming home from work, finding your cheeks freshly wet, your eyes red and glazed over. The thoughts unsaid, but screaming. Screaming and wailing and willing you to step over that edge. Nothing about it is easy. Nothing about it is gentle. Nothing about this you could stand for much longer. Dinner, so sweetly prepared, goes uneaten. Everything sits like rocks in the pit of your stomach. Threatening to come back up again. Mostly, you push the food around your plate, managing a smile, managing interest in the conversation. You spend all day in bed, but you are unable to sleep. The bags under your eyes look like they hurt, aching, pulsing. The hollows of your eyes seem deeper, darker, haunted. Your body is so heavy. You never knew flesh and bone could feel like concrete. Every step, every movement, it is unthinkable. You curl into yourself, hoping tomorrow will be better, hoping this will go away. It won’t. It never does. 

Roman didn’t know things were this bad. Even as he watched you wave from the check-in desk, even as he watched the doors close behind you and an escorting nurse, even as he waited for you to come back, a voice in his head told him things weren’t this bad. They were. You’ve been sick for a long time. He thought if he was home more, if he cooked dinner, real dinner, and cracked jokes and held you so tight at night, then it wouldn’t get this bad. Cyclical. Things got like this. But it always went away. It got bad, yes, but then it got better. Why wasn’t it going away? You didn’t have the words to describe it. He’d find you laying in the tub, the water cold, shivering, crying, unable to get out. It took too much energy, too much determination, none of which you had. Unchanged from the pajamas you wore for days at a time. He blamed himself. He wasn’t doing enough. He wasn’t there for you enough. If, if, if. You told him it was just your brain, your mind, getting a little lost. When it got lost, it was hard to find its way back. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t you, it wasn’t anyone or anything, just your brain. It would be like this for the rest of your life. You couldn’t bargain or bribe your way out of this. It had to be done. He saw the scars along your skin from the times before, when things were bad, very bad. He didn’t want anything like that from happening again. 

He called you as soon as he could. Roman’s voice was shaky, unsure. You were the one easing his fears, his worries. If you didn't, no one would. He didn’t ask how it was going, he wasn't sure if he should. You sensed the curiosity, telling him your new routine. You’ve been sleeping better, easier. The food is terrible. There are doctors and therapists who are going to help you, make your brain better. He breathes a sigh of relief. Not because of what you say, but how you sound. Your tone was so scary. Scared of your thoughts, scared of what you might do. You sounded lighter. You talked as long as you could. When you hung up he went to bed with your shirt, one arm reaching out to your side of the bed. Wanting you. Needing you. Knowing this is what had to happen. Everything his father had taught him, you had he retaught. This wasn’t taboo. It wasn’t evil or wrong or anything to be embarrassed of. It’s just something that is. He counts down the hours. 48. 47. 46. . .

Soon you will be home. You will have medications, different pills, pills that will work. You will be in your own bed again right next to him. You will get better. You will feel happiness again. You will laugh and smile and it will be so genuine it hurts. And when this comes back, when everything gets dark again, because it always does, he will be there like he is now, like he has been. He will be there. Because when he made a promise to you, he made it to all of you. The good parts, but the bad parts too. The scary, mean, lying parts. The parts that tell you you aren’t worth it, that you won’t be missed. He’ll spend every day proving them wrong.