#and not be able to do anything about it ever because i'm useless

[neege]

i need more!!!!! wolstar + Sirius almost dies <3

And more you shall have!! This was so challenging for me because I usually find it a lot easier to write humor, but I hope I did this justice!!! ❤️

"Remus."

God there's so much blood. How can someone losing this much blood still be alive?

"Remus, baby."

There's so much blood!

And it's not stopping. He's throwing every single healing spell he can at it, but he didn't see the spell when it was cast, and all he has on him is his wand. He doesn't even see anything nearby that can stop the bleeding. His shirt is already soaked in it.

God, he's bleeding everywhere.

"Moony..."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry I'm trying everything I can, I know it must hurt-"

"Moony, my love..."

Remus feels shaking fingers skim his cheek. The coolness against his face lets him know that there's now blood—Sirius's blood—smeared where his fingers have touched.

"I'm trying! I'm trying just hang on-"

"Baby, look at me..."

Remus doesn't.

He focuses instead at the gaping wounds carved into Sirius's skin. He's helplessly moving his wand over the body below him, racking his useless fucking brain for anything, anything that will help. That will save-

"Remus, please look at me."

It's the please that finally rips Remus's gaze away from the injuries he's desperately trying to heal.

Sirius is breathing in ragged, painful wheezes, but his eyes are clear. He looks into deep grey eyes, dark like storm clouds, and feels his own well up immediately.

"Have I-" Sirius's voice is weak, "Have I ever told you..."

It looks like it's taking every last bit of his energy to get words out, but he's smiling slightly. Something sad and tired and resigned.

Remus can feel the grip on his fingers get tighter.

"You know, you look so- so sexy when you're freaking out."

Remus let's out a startled laugh that dissolves into a gasping sob.

He collapses onto Sirius, gripping his shoulders, his hair, any part of him he can reach as if he'll be able to keep all the life in him from bleeding out under his hands.

"Sirius, I'm so-" He lets out a broken sound, and it's loud in the empty room. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

"My love-"

"I'm so sorry, I can't fix it, I'm so sorry-"

He cries and cries, all the while Sirius is murmuring any and every word of affection he's ever said to Remus; like he needs to get them all out now. Like he'll never have another chance.

Baby-

My love-

Moony, darling-

I love you-

"I love you, I'm sorry, I love you-"

Remus feels Sirius go slack in his arms moments before he's ripped away from him—kicking and screaming and probably doing more damage than anything else.

He sobs into James's shoulder first, still standing in the safe house they were ambushed in just an hour before. He's covered in blood and can feel the rage in James's voice as he screams at Moody to leave them alone for fucks sake!

Then he cries again, this time with Lily. They're sitting in the waiting room at St. Mungos.

He cries now, gripping Sirius's hand while he lays motionless in a hospital bed. He's been waiting here for days, and every time he thinks he's done crying, the image of Sirius bleeding out beneath his fingers flashes behind his eyes.

The only sounds to be heard are from the healers in the hallway outside, and the small brokenhearted noises Remus is letting out as he cries.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're sexy when you're in distress?"

A croaky voice speaks, and Remus whips his head up to stare at the exhausted smile on his boyfriend's face.

"Sirius!" He's climbing onto the bed before he can even think about whether or not it might hurt the other man, "Sirius, oh my god! You were dead Sirius-"

"Well, you can't get rid of me that easy-"

"Oh my god, you were dead and I didn't know what to do, I couldn't fix it, I'm sorry-"

Sirius shushes him gently at that.

There are tears streaming down his face, and Sirius reaches shaky fingers up to wipe them away. They're both quiet for a beat.

"Is it an inappropriate time to mention that you crying gets me all hot under the collar?"

Remus laughs, smiling so big it hurts his cheeks, and leans down to pepper kisses across Sirius's face.

His forehead first. Then his nose. His jaw. His cheeks. His eyelids. His brow.

His lips.

In a moment he'll call in the healers. They'll want to look him over and check his wounds. He'll need to notify James, Lily, and Peter—they'd all gone home for a change and a shower—and the Order will need to be called as well.

Remus doesn't move to do any of that.

For just a little while longer he'd like to feel Sirius underneath his lips—so beautiful and brave, and so very alive.

[muzzlemouths]

having the kind of mental panic that not even Creating Art can fix. wuh oh

[tumbloggingattheendofitall]

And not that it's actually going to stop anyone from coming for me I guess, but like. Not voting in the US this election cycle because of your disgust at the handling of the Palestinian genocide by the US government isn't actually the Great Big Political Statement Of Solidarity you think it is

What it is, is apathy. No I'm not naïve enough to believe that voting blue absolves me of the crimes committed by my country on the word of a bunch of out of touch oligarchs. But not voting doesn't actually absolve us of any of that either, and it only materially makes things worse for everybody, locally and globally, when we allow our political apathy to keep us from Working Towards Better outcomes

[fragglerockopinions]

.

[natjennie]

I don't feel goooood :(

[somelazyassartist]

.

[atrwriting]

selfish - frank castle x reader

hey y'all back in action with another porn no plot one shot

all i'm saying is,,, they knew who their target audience was with this (or are we just all mentally ill?)

summary: frank shows you what it means to be a real, selfish man.

informal warnings: frank is the selfish man in this, but I was the selfish woman writing this. couldn't get this out of my head as I started season two of the punisher, and frankly (haha get it -- sorry) after this scene you wouldn't be able to either

as always, the actual warnings: vulnerable frank, #sadboihrs for both the reader and frank, smut, porn no plot, choking, dirty talk, and ROUGH frank

anyway... selfish:

“what’s your type?”

the million dollar question. the one that you had been troubling yourself over for years.

“my type?” you repeated, eyeing the man who asked you. “or my pattern?”

he tilted his head in curiosity. “both.”

you chuckled. “my pattern… well, they’re usually useless. man babies.”

it was his turn to chuckle. “you like taking care of them, yeah?”

you shrugged. “i love taking care of people, but not men that de-age into babies as time goes on. did you know a guy i dated asked me how to boil water once?”

“you’re joking,” he took a swig of his beer, eyeing you. “no way that’s true. made that up.”

“i wish,” you laughed, rubbing a hand over your face. “i’m also not making it up that i stayed with him two years after that.”

“sounds like your fault.”

you nodded. “the pattern made me realize what my real type is.”

“what?”

“it’s corny.”

“say it.”

a smirk attempted to appear on your lips, but you pushed it back down. “i don’t like selfless men.”

he let out a laugh in disbelief at that. “you and every other chick.”

you chuckled too. “i heard this an analogy once… if you’re falling over a cliff, would you want your person to save you? or someone else about to fall on another side of the cliff?”

he stopped talking then, listening intently.

you kept going. “obviously, i’d want the other person saved… but in my head, when i’m all alone and there’s no one that has to be saved… sometimes it’s nice to think that someone would be so selfish that they would save me over doing what’s right.”

“you could live with that though?” he asked, narrowing his eyes, a bit of judgement lacing his words.

you shrugged. “never been the person that was saved, so i’m really not sure. it’s not that i want to be saved or anything — that’s super fucking corny. but man, a fucking masculine man, putting you over other things? deciding that in that moment, you’re what matters to him? i spend all my days being selfless, putting myself in danger so other people are saved… and i’m tired.” you took a swig of your drink. “i’m really fucking tired.”

“why don’t you save yourself, then?”

“for the same reason you’re here,” you sighed. “when have we ever been selfish, frank?”

he laughed at that, but almost scoffed. “i don’t do anything i do for anyone but me.”

you swallowed then, clenching your jaw. “so many people have wronged you… but you’ve only done what you’ve done because of how people have wronged those you loved. hate to break it to you… but you’re as selfless as anyone could be.”

he folded his lips underneath his teeth and stared aimlessly off into the distance. there were bags under his dark eyes, and no amount of sleep or beer would ever take them away. the man would never know peace, and your heart broke at that. however, it was nice to know someone was going down the rabbit hole with you.

“i don’t think i’m selfless,” he finally spoke after a bit.

you raised an eyebrow at him, calling his bluff.

“i did the things i did because my family was what was most important to me,” he admitted. “that’s selfish.”

you swished his words around in your mouth a little, and decided he was right. the spin on your words made you nod, agreeing with him. “i see your point.”

“so, what?” he asked. “you want a man that would choose you over innocent people?”

you huffed, standing. “i know you know that i never said that. i’m saying that in the back of my mind, it would be nice, just once, for a selfish man to decide that i’m all he wanted. it would be nice to know that i don’t always have to carry the weight on only my shoulders.”

he didn’t say anything then, staying planted on his seat on the floor. he twisted the bottle in his hands and listened to you.

“if i’m being honest with myself…” you began, swallowing your heavy statement. “i would prefer if they saved the innocents, but only so i could die, as i probably would falling in that situation, with a clear conscience. all i’m saying is… it’s a heavy fucking burden always doing things so i don’t feel guilty.”

you walked away then, not muttering a goodbye. frank didn’t say anything either. you heard him raise the bottle to his lips once more before you shut your bedroom door behind you.

it would be an hour or so before you heard a gentle knock on your door. there was no yelling or screaming outside, so you were grateful to hear there was no imminent danger present. in your tiny pajamas, you answered the door to find none other than frank. he was leaning against a wall in the hallway that led to your door, only a couple feet from you.

he didn’t say anything when you came face to face with him. he just stared at you, placing all of his focus on your confused face. it would be a few moments of silence before he finally stepped closer to you, and placed a calloused hand on your face.

you froze. frank castle never touched you, especially in that way.

“wanna know my type?”

you stared at him and swallowed thickly. your lips parted to whisper, “sure.”

“an escape,” he whispered back. “i know what you meant by always having the dark cloud of duty hanging above your head, ready to kill any moment of peace you happen to get your damned hands on. i’ve done everything i’ve ever done for the people i loved, and i know the only way for me to experience any fuckin’ joy is with another person.”

his dark eyes held your gaze, and you soon grew lost in them and his words. you swiped your tongue across your lips and stepped closer. you could feel frank’s breath on your chin, but you couldn’t breathe. his scent, his stare, and his fucking words were more intoxicating than any alcohol you had before.

“you want an escape, frank?” you softly asked, eyes darting to his lips.

“i do,” he stated, before he lowered his head and kissed you.

his free hand immediately came up to the other side od your face and pressed against your cheek. there, he held you in the palms of his hands as you rested your hands on his thick, muscled chest. his lips were dry and cracked, but you didn’t care. the fire that brewed from his affection was enough to fill any of the cold, dark, and lonely places inside of you and you greedily drank from anything he offered.

“you want someone to want you, darlin’?” he asked in between kisses.

you hummed in agreement, not wanting to break apart your kiss for anything — even words.

“can’t get you out of my head, sweetheart,” he spoke, dipping his tongue into your mouth. “need to feel those long legs around me.”

you whimpered at his words, letting his tongue dance with yours. you could taste the heineken on his tongue and savored every bit. “please, frank… i need to feel you so badly.”

“i’ve got you, darlin’.” he picked you up by the backs of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around him. the pads of frank’s finger tips dug into your flesh and a warmth spread throughout you. “those fuckin’ legs.”

you would’ve giggled, but you were too consumed with the very touch of frank to even care. you pulled at his shirt and threw it over his head, sad to break the kiss for even a second. you immediately went to his neck and began to nip at the thick skin, causing a growl to rumble in the deepest parts of his rib cage.

“y’drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he grunted. “sweetest fuckin’ kisses.”

“oh, frank…” you moaned against his neck before he threw you onto the bed. you turned over onto your back to face him. he locked eyes with you as he stood over you, muscles naturally flexed as he undid his belt. your mouth watered at the sight of the fucking man before you, taking off his belt for only you. the way his shoulders, pectorals, and arms worked in the dim light of your room… that man would be the death of you. you hissed, “you’re such a tease.”

he smirked at that, throwing the belt somewhere in the distance. “think you’ve just never been with a real man before,” he replied, before engulfing you into another kiss.

frank’s hand dipped into your shorts and immediately went for your slit. your body fucking sang at finally being touched the way you needed to be as you arched your back into frank, his chest pressed against yours. when frank began to run rough circles around your clit, nothing could hold back your moans or him swallowing them whole.

“only took off my belt, and this is how wet you get?” he asked, biting down on your neck. his long, thick middle finger dipped inside of you as his thumb worked at your clit. he tapped against your upper wall and you keened into his touch, whimpering his name. “now i know it’s the men before me. barely doing a fuckin’ thing and i’ve got you like this.”

you nodded pathetically, just wanting him to continue. “it feels so good,” you gasped, bucking your hips into his hand. “please, please — don’t stop, frank.”

he leaned over and pressed his chest against yours before his lips found your neck once more. his kisses were wet and sloppy, and there was nothing better than feeling the weight of a strong man above you working at your needy pussy. his rough movements against your sensitive skin were sending you into a frenzy as if nothing mattered in the world besides frank — your world started and ended there. your body felt hot — steaming from everything this man was doing for you with barely any effort. your whimpers and gasps fueled frank’s movements as if he couldn’t get enough of them.

“such a good girl f’me,” he said before he bit down on your neck and kissed the spot. “y’get so worked up, i want to see what it’s like when you fall apart.”

“i’m so close, frank…” your voice was hoarse and full of lust, and you were about to break any moment.

“that’s it, baby, yeah,” he spoke, slipping a second finger inside of you. “cum all over these fingers baby. let me taste you after.”

“fuck, fuck, fuck —!”

your world came crashing down onto you. your strength was no match for frank’s, but with the way your back arched and body curled into him, your chests both rose off the bed. he wrapped a strong arm underneath the curve of your back as you fucking sobbed his name, holding you to him and supporting your weight.

“that’s it, darlin’,” he grunted against your ear. “yeah — that’s it. keep cumming for me, fuck…”

your hands grabbed at his thick biceps and you grew lost in his movements against the most sensitive parts of you that never ceased. your hips were rolling in circles with his fingers and your vision went hazy.

“so beautiful like this f’me,” he groaned. “might be mean and not let you stop.”

“fuck, frank,” you cried, whimpering for him. your body fell limp against his arm, and he lowered your bodies back down to the bed. during your comedown, frank kissed at your neck as his free hand ran up and down your body. his other hand continued to rub against your pussy and it was driving you fucking crazy. “let me ride you — please.”

your voice was full of desperation, and frank smirked down at you. he slipped his fingers out of you and rolled off of you onto the bed. you tugged his pants down to his thighs, not wanting to waste any time. you were so greedy, but he didn’t care. he smirked as he watched you pull down your tiny shorts. you straddled him, pressing his chest to yours, as you sank down onto his thick cock.

“my fucking god —“ you gasped, your pussy stretching around him.

frank immediately grabbed your throat and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. he placed the tips of his fingers in his mouth, and tasted your juices that remained on his skin. there you were, impaled on his cock, hovering over him as you watched the most sensual thing you had ever seen him do. his dark eyes were locked on yours, but your lips parted as you watched him taste you. only a smirk remained on his lips.

“sweetest fuckin’ pussy i’ve ever tasted,” he spoke. “now show me how she rides me.”

he roughly pushed you upwards so you stood up straight. the angle made a whimper leave your lips, as he was now fully inside of you and the deepest anyone has ever been. you planted a limp hand on his stomach, and began to roll your hips against his.

his calloused hands found your hips as he threw his head back against the bed. the tendons in his neck were on full display as he stretched his head back as far as he could. the pleasure he felt was spreading all throughout his body, and he couldn’t help but go taut at the feeling. you watched his mouth fall agape and his eyes close as a moan pushed passed his lips.

the pads of his fingers dug into your hips and pushed you forward and back. even his fingers were strong and had control over you, and you couldn’t help but willingly give everything over to him. your whines filled the room, getting lost in your own pleasure with him. there was nothing like the sight of being thrown into vulnerable pleasure with the man under you, succumbing to your touch.

“fuckin’ god —“ he moaned, raising his head back up to keep his eyes locked on where your bodies connected. “never felt so fuckin’ good.”

his hoarse voice caused you to move faster as you ground your hips against his. his hands were rough and desperate as they pulled you up, down, back and forth — until you didn’t know which way was anything. all you knew were the directions of frank’s hands, and you followed in suit as he dragged you down another road of ecstasy.

“greedy fuckin’ pussy,” he groaned. “never enough for her, huh? needs more, even after what i did?”

“yes, yes,” you whimpered pathetically. “your cock feels so good, frank. so fucking good.”

“yeah, darlin’, that’s it,” he grunted, brown scrunching together. “such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.”

“fuck, frank — don’t say that,” you cried loudly, biting your lip. “feels too good when you say that — i can’t cum yet.”

he immediately reached for your neck and pulled you down to him. you gasped at his rough touch, but your hips never stopped. he bent his knees so your ass could bounce off of them, giving you more leverage. his cock curled deeper into you, hitting your cervix.

“oh my — god —“ you sobbed so close to his lips.

“nah, baby, that’s not how this works — you’re gonna take everything fuckin’ i give you,” he grunted. “i know y’want to be a good girl f’me, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah, yes —“ you were incoherent at this point, ready to tell frank anything he wanted to hear as he bucked his hips into yours. “frank, i’m so close — how —“

“love a needy pussy like this,” he spoke, pulling you closer by the throat for a kiss. “you gonna be good to me? you gonna cum around my cock?”

“fuck, yes —“ you sobbed. “i want you to cum with me, baby, fill me up.”

that set him off. he rolled both of you over before you even knew what was happening. he had you pressed against the bed, hand still around your throat. you grabbed at his arm, loving having the feeling of his strong muscles hold you down. you wrapped your legs around his back as he threw his hips into you. over, and over, he drove himself inside you.

“dirty fuckin’ girl,” he growled, biting down on the skin of where your neck and shoulder met.

that was it. that was how you crumbled a second time for frank that evening.

you fucking wailed his name.

you grabbed at every part of him you could, struggling to hold on for dear life. your body shook with convulsions as your pussy tightened around him, locking his cock in place. nothing could stop his strong hips as they continued to rut into you — riding out your second orgasm of that evening.

you fell back against the bed, fucked out and gasping for air pathetically. frank pressed several kisses to your neck before he stood up on his knees, leaving your weak body below him. you pushed yourself to your elbows with whatever strength you could muster. frank grabbed you by the hips and you watched him slam his hips into yours.

you watched his forehead scrunch as his mouth fell agape. his chin was almost tucked to his neck as his eyes never left where his cock fucked into you.

“use me just like that, baby,” you cried. “i want your cum inside me.”

his strong, trim body went taut as his orgasm hit him, and you watched hungrily as the man before you fell vulnerable to the only pleasure he could allow himself these days. you watched as his conscious mind slipped further and further into the sensation until every ounce of stress and exhaustion left his face. you couldn’t help but bite your lip in pride and satisfaction — knowing that you will never see a more beautiful sight like frank castle using your body to get off.

you fucking loved selfish men.

----

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN NOW EVERYONE GO WATCH THIS SCENE -L xox

[olderthannetfic]

Hi OTNF and everyone,

I am finding that it's harder and harder and harder to get into anything - book, show, movie... most things seem, you know, to just not be doing it for me, be it fanfic or original stuff.

In part, I think, it's a general restlessness and that it's become harder to give anything enough time to get into the stories, the characters, the settings, the narrative voices... I guess you can call it attention deficit on my part, just a need for stories to deliver those sweet, sweet hits quickly, but they're not.

I'm not currently ficcing but I did for years (might again in the future, who knows), and it's made reading, specifically, harder. It's like I've become more aware of what goes on behind the scene, I guess? I feel like I can see the writer giving up on a sentence, skipping a scene because fuck this, trying hard to not repeat a word although it's the only one that fits, etc.

Or maybe it's just the *everything* around us in the world that is weighing on me too much? I could say it's adult life, but then again I have more free time than most (and boy do I need hours of doing nothing to survive the other hours), and no family/partner (all that would put even more pressure on me): what is wrong, to make everything so UGHHH?

I feel like I'm stuck in a rut with a brain moaning feed me, feeeed me, and whatever I try to give it, it spits everything out. (Yes, I've tried hobbies, and nothing sticks there either. I've never really found rewards or satisfaction there, so...)

Decades ago as a kid, I was a voracious reader, although studying literature took the pleasure of it away from me. It took time and discovering fanfic that brought me back to reading, but at the time the internet was starting to be a thing, too, and it can't have helped the attention thing. AFAIK I'm not ADHD but then again, I couldn't get a proper diagnosis (the therapists I saw were either dismissive or just about The Talking, which was pointless for me).

I just wonder how it all disappeared, you know? Sometimes I find something that catches my attention for a while - a book (but I read quite quickly when motivated), a fandom... but it's been a while now, and it's just so frustrating! When is it going to come back? Will it ever? *gulp*

I know that books were escapism when I was a child, and then fandom was escapism, but at the moment I find myself grabbing at air and my empty hands are mocking me. Give me my escapism baaaaack!

So, uh. Anyone here with me?

--

Yes.

I felt like that during part of lockdown. Anhedonia is common in those kinds of circumstances.

Getting your mojo back is certainly possible, but you may need to go see a professional about depression and have some chemical assistance (yes, even if you don't feel sad per se), or you may need to change your lifestyle to one that doesn't have the thing causing you to need eleventy billion hours of downtime.

Aside from serious interventions like that, you can consider a social media detox. Remove every source of doomscrolling and time wasting of that type. When the attention span is zero and nothing brings joy, the tiny and useless hits from finishing a game of solitaire or seeing one more instagram post become very attractive. This is a trap. It will suck what little energy and joy you have and make your muscles flabby for the work of getting into an in-depth book/hobby/experience.

I know the feeling of being able to see how the sausage is made, but... well... first, being in a better mental state will make that matter less, and second, reading prose that is more competent will make that less of an issue. A lot of mainstream tradpub genre fiction is not, in my opinion, very well written these days. Obviously, people are still enjoying it, and that's fine, but if you're noticing writers fumbling around, it might be time to check out some literary fiction or some other category known more for prose quality than anything else.

It's also important to have some structure and some things to look forward to. Even if you feel tired, overwhelmed, and busy, sometimes, the answer is to do more... But it must be things that are distinct and significant and that get you off of the couch, like going to one museum every weekend.

I saw some advice once about this kind of thing that phrased it as "One big adventure; one small adventure."

Every week, you should have those two things to look forward to that matter. Check out a new coffee shop. That could be the small one. Go to an event: a gallery opening, a concert, whatever.

Physical exercise and doing some things that aren't as verbal and conscious thought-involving is important too. Painting is a better hobby for zoning out than writing is. Taking long walks in nature is good for most people.

--

The kind of intense, obsessive love I had for reading as a child and that I sometimes have for fandom requires a lot of attention and some time. It's escapist, but that masks how much work it actually was. It didn't feel like work only because we were in training.

If you've filled your brain and your day up with a thousand petty annoyances or minor and useless attempts to feel something, you won't have the capacity for those deeper things.

Because you are already at a point that's equivalent to a bad sprained ankle, trying to get back to running right now won't work. You have to stay off of the ankle for a bit, then build your strength and stamina back up.

[flowerandblood]

hiatus

I thought I might be able to write something now, but my priorities have changed so much that I feel like I need to focus on my new book publication now, my husband's PhD, and the fact that we're going to be parents in June. I haven't felt this good in a long time: my inspiration has left me when it comes to writing stories, but it's come back in my professional life, which is very important to me. My husband and I are closer than ever, so I want to focus on my real life to the fullest: I already regret that when I had a difficult time I waited so long to tell him what was going on inside me, instead sitting in front of the computer and writing, pushing him away so as not to burden him with my sadness.

Writing has given me two things: wonderful, devoted readers and the feeling that I can write an interesting story, and I will always be eternally grateful for that. I'm not going to delete this blog and I'm not saying that I'm disappearing forever or that I'll never write anything again: I just don't know when or if I will. I know you will understand this, as always, because I have managed to surround myself with very warm and kind people.

Tumblr also has a dark side for me though, and there is something in it that currently repels me every time I log in here. Some time ago I came to the conclusion that what I read here (I am not talking about stories, but text posts) makes me uncomfortable and often does not even stand close to "openness, equality and all other human values" as some people think.

I think that at some point in my time here I was a bad person, especially when I was involved in various dramas or when I got angry about things that, from my current perspective, were absurd: I allowed myself to be manipulated, but I also willingly distracted myself from the fact that I felt useless to my husband, myself and the whole world.

I found my happiness (a real one) only when I told my husband about everything that was going on inside me, and he offered me the support and understanding I needed. It happened before our vacation in Romania and, what a surprise, when all the stress went away and I finally rested by his side, after a month I was already pregnant with the child I had so longed for.

Every once in a while I'll probably let you know what's up and how I'm doing: I probably won't be in private messages anymore, but that doesn't mean that if you write to me, I'll never write back. Thank you for letting me go through the hardest period of my life with you.

See you soon!

[neuvigroove]

𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚.

pairings. scaramouche x fem reader synopsis. scaramouche swore to himself to protect you from dottore, but in order to do so, he must abandon you. before he leaves though, he makes sure to put a smile on your face. genre/warnings. pure angst, written in scara's pov, reader is energetic and childish, she/her pronouns used for reader, mentions of blood, stabbing, and death wc. 1.1k a/n. i actually shed a tear while writing this and listening to summertime sadness. playlist. die first - nessa barrett, summertime sadness - lana del rey, train wreck - james arthur

[2:39pm]

today is y/n's birthday.

i can see her in the near distance, skipping around like an excited little kid. she's always had too much energy for me to bear, but perhaps i've grown used to it, seeing that she's always glued to my side for some reason unknown to me.

that bliss however, will change today. dottore knows about where she's from. a planet far from the depths of teyvat. a globe dominated solely by the human race with no room for elemental power. a planet currently known as earth.

very little is known about this planet, which only causes dottore's interest to peak. her origin makes her the perfect test subject for the doctor, but i will not let him lay a dirty fingernail on her.

we cannot continue to travel as one; dottore will find her if she's with me. i don't have any cards left to play.

i do worry that leaving her alone would put her in another danger. she carries no vision, nor any strength that could compare to the creatures of teyvat. however, nothing is more dangerous than becoming an experiment of the second fatui harbinger. on the inside i know she'll be okay. she can find-

she can find my replacement. a new companion.

my only option is to watch over her from the shadows. that is the only way i can protect her.

sometimes i can tell that i hurt her feelings when we converse. but my personality is something i can't change, and she's never seemed to want change from me. perhaps that's why i've enjoyed her company more than i could ever enjoy another human being's. she understands me more than i think she does.

since i made her cry on her last birthday, i've decided that i could attempt to make her smile this time around. in my defense though, the cookies she made for us to share together were truly detrimental. but... maybe my words were too harsh. i forget what i said exactly... "you wanna poison me? are you so dumb as to have forgotten that i'm not human?"

my eyes trail back to ms. craziness and my eyes widen when she trips over a tree branch. i actually have no idea how i've been traveling together with a girl who has two left legs without dying. i don't notice the tears streaming from my eyes until she looks my way and spots me.

she runs over to me, and i quickly wipe the useless, hot tears. when i see her happy expression, i need to make an effort not to let the guilt eat me alive. i think i've admitted it to myself a while ago, but i love y/n. i'd presumed just as everyone else that i'm a puppet incapable of anything close to love, but if what i feel for y/n isn't love then i'm not sure what it is. i am positive that it is love. when you experience pain, you don't doubt it and assume it's something else. you just feel. and when i'm with her i feel.

"SCARA!" y/n exclaims as she topples me over in a hug. i nearly fall to the ground, but i'm able to catch us before it's too late. gosh, can she even contain her energy for two rational seconds?

i shove her off of me, but before i can say anything, she excitedly holds up a compass-like trinket in my face. "look! a sweet young boy gave me this lovely compass! it's supposed to lead you to wherever you'll be the happiest! and~ it led me right to you! we are just the perfect little duo, aren't we scara?"

i scoff, "and you believe that? it led you towards me because i'm standing north from where you were earlier."

y/n's excited expression drops.

"oh..." she pouts. "well... we can still pretend, right?"

pretend. maybe i can pretend she'll always be with me.

"pretending won't get you anywhere in life," i respond flatly.

"oh, but you pretend all the time," she responds. "i know you sometimes pretend that you can't hear me when i ramble about random things. although it hurts my feelings, you're still my best friend, scara."

what she said is actually not true. i in fact remember everything she rambles about in great detail. like that one time she was complaining about how she hates her hair because the wind blows it in an unattractive way. it was just so annoying because she needs to set her priorities straight. her appearance should be the last of her worries.

"give me your hand," i say. my voice is softer than i intended it to be. when she extends her hand, i slip a diamond bracelet around her wrist. on it is a charm with her nickname for me engraved in the center: scara.

please don't forget about me.

"oh, scara... it's beautiful! I'll never take it off. i promise."

"i have a matching one," i respond as i hold up my wrist for her the see.

she smiles when she sees the nickname engraved on my bracelet: princess.

there it is. her smile.

i sigh. "human, i know that you have your other shenanigans to deal with today, as do i. but meet me up that hill in the forest at sunset."

"oh, okay? scara, why are you being extra nice today?"

"um," i attempt a half smile. "it's your birthday, isn't it?"

[6:03pm]

i pick up the sword from the wet grass of the forest mountain beneath me. it's raining hard tonight. y/n is going to catch a cold, and i won't be there to care.

i walk over to the puppet standing across from me. my puppet. the puppet i've created to fake my own death. isn't it funny? the puppet of a puppet. both abandoned by their creators.

i take my bracelet off and slip it on its wrist. she has to believe it's me.

"i'm sorry," i whisper before stabbing my clone in the chest. i close my eyes when i hear my own voice cry out in a short-lived pain. it falls to the ground, lifeless as i walk away into the forest.

the bloodshed spreads with the heavy rain, and moments later, i see y/n approach the dead body. there she is.

and i feel as if my nonexistent heart has cracked in half when she screams. my eyes close in a sort of pain i've never experienced before. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, princess. it's the only way you wouldn't look for me.

i wish that a day will come where we can be partners again. but on the inside i know that her human lifespan is not long enough to fulfill that silly wish.

scaramouche fanart credit: X (Twitter) : llxx88103769

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hey, Sea! I'm kinda crazy about your work and I'm always sooo happy when there are new posts from you. I love the way you write the characters, it's so delicate, sweet and just amazing! And truth be told, I came for sub!aemond, but now I'm so hooked up on sub!aegon

In one of your previous posts you said something that made my mind spiral: himbo!aegon. Now I just need to read something, anything about it, if it's not too much to ask

This is so funny to me because I too started writing for sub!aemond and then ended up hooked on sub!aegon so I'm glad to hear others are in the same position.

I have plenty of asks with Aegon angst, which is absolutely brilliant we all know I love torturing the lad, but I think this could be the perfect ask to actually have some happy Aegon? So there will be happy subby himbo!aegon below the cut! Oh and I've made himbo!aegon a tag so that we can discuss it more!

So firstly, very early in your marriage to Aegon you discover that he just functions better when he has instructions to follow? At first this confuses you so much because you've seen how angry and irritable he gets when Allicent orders him to do something, and yet when you do it he almost seems relieved?

It takes a long time for Aegon to talk to you about Allicent and about how she affects him, but eventually he explains that Allicent just has this way of speaking to him and instructing him that makes him feel inferior and stupid? She will purposefully insult him while giving him an order, breaking his confidence and self image down enough that he doesn't trust his own thinking.

But then with you, you're so sweet about it? You listen to him and you help him and you praise him when he does as you ask. You never, ever, make him feel useless or stupid and you always make sure to show him how proud you are of him.

So when you smile at him and ask him to do something, he doesn't even consider disobeying? He's almost giddy as he runs back to you to tell you that he's done as you asked. You always praise him and give him a kiss and him feel so so good, so of course he listens to you!!

His mother is wholly incapable of understanding this by the way.

Anyway, so you quickly realise that Aegon really does function better when you instruct him. You first realise this at your wedding when you ask him for something, and the way he absolutely BEAMED at you when you thanked him and said he was perfect? You immediately knew you'd have to look more into this.

Pretty soon you’ve got Aegon wrapped around your finger and honestly he is loving it. Aegon thrives on feeling owned? He absolutely loves being able to refer back to you for guidance, loves being able to slip onto your lap whenever you two are alone and nibble on your collarbone and ear while you explain what you think he should do. It’s the freely given affection that makes him feel so so special and allows him to let his walls down enough that being told what to do no longer feels insulting.

Of course this works in the bedroom too, but that you knew from day one. The moment you gave Aegon the smallest pushback, he relented and when you responded by taking charge, he was completely enamoured and never looked at another again. It’s like you just claimed him and he’s so so pleased with it.

For a while he tries to not seem as reliant on your guidance as he actually is because he’s scared you’ll see him as too weak if you knew the truth. He’ll ask your opinion on something in passing and try to act all nonchalant about it, but in truth he’s hanging onto your every word because he’s not sure what to do and he knows he can trust you.

Eventually when he realises that he can be more open about it and you’ll never tease him or patronise him, well then you pretty much rule the seven kingdoms. He puts you on his small council, and while you don’t always say much in the meetings, Aegon can tell by your expressions what you think of things and when you do speak, it’s always impactful.

The other members of the small council were originally uncertain about him adding you but after one meeting they were to glad he did. It’s like you’re able to perfectly toe the line between understanding Aegon and also understanding what the realm needs. Aegon doesn’t snap when you steer him in a different direction, so the small council is very very grateful (except Allicent but thats not exactly new or surprising).

Also, Aegon isn’t just a himbo because he’s obedient and pretty and little dumb, he also LOVES his wife. He’s considered to be the most in love king in history. The whole of the seven realms knows how much King Aegon loves his queen, and how important it is for them to get on your good side.

If Aegon had it his way, court would be held with you sitting on the iron thrown and him across your lap, his legs dangling over the side of the thrown. Of course you don’t allow this during court because he needs to maintain some semblance of control in front of the noble lords and ladies, but when everyone finally leaves then he jumps off the thrown, waits for you to sit down and gets back on the thrown, this time across your lap. You hold him and have a little debrief.

The first time you suggested a debrief, Aegon had rolled his eyes and refused. But your tone was firm, and you both knew he’d never tell you no when you spoke like that.

And now he absolutely loves the debriefs. Irrelevant of whether you were at court that day or not, Aegon always starts with telling you everything that happened and venting about whatever he needs to vent about. One of the many things Aegon loves about you is how you can joke with him? When he insults a member of court you respond with an even funnier insult. More than once you’ve had to grab him to stop him from falling off your lap from laughing too hard.

Then he gets to hear your thoughts on everything and he’s so so thankful that the two of you seem to just speak the same language? He always knows exactly what you’re doing about and why, you can just explain things in a way that he absolutely loves.

So yeah, himbo!aegon!!

[dyns33]

Flufftober 2024 - 5 Alfie Solomons

There were accidents at the bakery, real accidents, not at all planned and which bothered Alfie a lot, because it disrupted production and some of his men could be injured.

Bur most of the time, it wasn't that serious. Y/N never heard about it if she wasn't there. Even if he didn't hide anything from her, her husband didn't see the point in worrying her unnecessarily.

It was obvious that there had been a small fire in the morning when Y/N arrived, but obviously nothing too serious, since the activity had not stopped.

However, she could read a certain fear in Ollie's eyes when she greeted him.

"Mrs. Solomons ! I didn't know you were coming today !"

"Normally I was not, but I was bored and Alfie forgot his scarf again."

"I… I can take it to him, Madam ! He wouldn't want you to bother over such a small thing !"

"I don't mind." Y/N said suspiciously. "I'm already here anyway."

"Yes, but… The boss is out !"

"Ismael told me he was here."

"I mean… He's here, but he's in a meeting, he said to say he wasn't here, that he shouldn't be disturbed, even by his lovely wife. I'm really sorry. He's very busy, he doesn't even know if he'll be able to come home tonight and… Madam Solomons, no, please !"

She didn't listen to him, walking past him without him really trying to stop her. The poor boy knew it was useless, and that Alfie wouldn't like him touching his wife.

Opening the door, she wasn't surprised to find that there was no appointment.

On the other hand, she stared at the man sitting at the desk with some perplexity.

The clothes were Alfie's. The posture, the face, the hair.

But something was missing, something essential.

"Treacle, I can explain."

"Why ?"

"I'll explain, wait."

"Alfie, why ?"

"There was a lil problem, I wanted to help put out the fire and… I know, everyone would prefer that half of my face was hidden, me the first. But it will grow back ! Don't panic, love."

In addition to his right hand covered in a bandage following a slight burn, Alfie's beard had caught fire, and despite his quick reaction to splash himself with water, the result was not enough to keep the hair that remained without looking ridiculous.

Plus, the stupid doctor who came for the others insisted on examining him, and for that he had to shave it all off.

"I look like a baby." he mumbled, touching his chin. "A big ugly baby."

"You're not ugly."

"A real monster. I saw your reaction, you hate it, and I don't blame you. I hate it too. How horrible."

"Oh, shut up, you big baby." Y/N sighed, coming to sit on his lap, fascinated by this new face. "I don't hate it, I was surprised. You're very handsome."

"Hmm. I won't stay like this, even if you beg me. Don't beg me, treacle."

"No. I prefer my husband the way I know him. I don't think I've ever imagined you without a beard. You look like another man, a disguise. Oh ! You could do the same haircut as my brothers, that would be fun ! Finn and the kids want to celebrate this holiday where everyone dresses up."

"If any of your brothers come near me with scissors, I'll rip them off and stab them in the eye."

No doubt he could have continued to threaten the Shelbys and growl, but when she kissed him, on the mouth and all the rest of that unfamiliar skin, he froze, enjoying the sensation.

No one touched his hair, but he agreed to come to the little party, both delighted and annoyed by his in-laws who stared at him with the same fascination as their sister. But it was hard to tell if it was because of the lack of a beard, or because he was wearing a tuxedo.

After Polly and Ada whispered to Y/N that her husband was quite handsome, he decided that the others were staring because they were jealous and he had a rather good night. He then spent the rest of the month waiting for his beard to grow back regardless.

________________________________

(Alfie at the party)

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Come Through Me

Prompt Day 30: Sing | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson Runs Away, Loneliness, Reconnecting, Pre-Steddie

He's been flying solo for too long. 

Eddie locks the door of the dingy apartment, the one he ran away to the minute he was able to leave the hospital, vowing to never fucking set foot in Hawkins again. 

So far, he's kept his word. 

He cut all ties, besides Wayne, and fucked right off.

Wayne makes the trek to meet him halfway sometimes, like they are today, and Eddie is grateful. He wants Wayne to get out of that shithole, too, but there's a pension just beyond his reach, and he's gonna stick it out until that's squared away.

But that means Eddie's kind of fucking lonely. He's not an introvert. He isn't meant to be alone, no matter how big of a freak everyone always thought he was.

"I'm lonely," he tells Wayne at the rest stop picnic table, homemade sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, spread out between them.

"Call your friends," Wayne says.

Eddie takes another bite.

"One call. They'd come runnin'. Trust me, kid," Wayne says, and Eddie wants to believe it would be that easy.

"They're mad," Eddie says. 

"They're worried," Wayne clarifies, "Dustin Henderson, and Gareth, too. Neither one give me a moment's peace."

Eddie smiles, just a little at the image of that.

"But it's that Harrington boy that's like a dog with a goddamn bone. Shaking it in my face, demanding to know things you made me promise not to sing like a canary about."

Eddie stills. 

Steve Harrington's looking for him? What for? They spent a week in the general vicinity of each other running for their lives. They aren't friends. They aren't anything. 

"What? Why?" Eddie asks, and it's not the most eloquent he's ever been.

"You tell me when you figure it out. Because I'd love to know, kid," Wayne says, and he seems like he's just as confused as Eddie is by this turn of events.

"What's he been asking you? How often do you see him? Does he come to the house?" Eddie asks, rapid-fire. 

Wayne holds up his hands, shutting Eddie's questions down. 

Then he digs in his wallet, pulling out a single slip of notebook paper, handing it to Eddie.

One piece of paper. 

But it seems terrifying. 

"Call him and ask, yeah?" Wayne says, and Eddie isn't sure he can do that, but he takes it.

They finish talking, hug, and then Wayne's gone. His old truck rumbling away, leaving Eddie alone all again.

Eddie has rubbed his thumb against the slip of paper enough that it's getting soft and if he doesn't cut it the fuck out, his luck will have him rubbing a hole right through the number, rendering it useless. 

He finally picks up the phone and just dials. Not giving himself a chance to back out.

Steve's voice fills his ear.

"Uh, hey. Hi. It's me. Eddie. Munson. Wayne gave me your number," Eddie says, and it feels stupid. What does he have to say to Steve Harrington? What does Steve have to say to him?

"Hey, man, glad you called," Steve says, and he sounds carefree, happy. 

He's happy?

Eddie wonders what that feels like.

Maybe he'll know, someday. 

"Yeah," Eddie says, and falls silent. Steve wanted him to call, Steve's gonna have to do the heavy lifting here. At least pick the topic to get the ball rolling.

"How are you?" Steve asks. 

"Lonely," Eddie says, and then leans his head against the door jam. He didn't mean to say that. To be that fucking honest. 

"Me too, man," Steve says, like it's a normal thing to say to each other. "Let me come see you. Then maybe we won't be lonely anymore, at least for a while, yeah?"

And, yeah. 

Okay.

Steve pulls up to his little apartment in his shitty neighborhood. Eddie watches out the window as Steve flips his keys in his hand, over and over, as he walks to the door, like he's happy to be there. 

Eddie lets him in, and Steve Harrington smiles, big and wide.

"Hey, man! You snuck out on us!" Steve says, reaching forward, hugging tight, rocking Eddie back and forth with the force of it. 

It's fucking weird, but Eddie hugs him back, because he's not about to pass up the chance to get a hug. Not these days.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were hoping I wouldn't," Eddie says as Steve finally lets him go. 

"Of course I didn't want you to! You're one of us now. Membership cannot be revoked," Steve teases.

Eddie laughs, and he's suddenly happy Steve made the effort to get in contact. Eddie motions to his couch, and Steve settles in. Eddie sits beside him, tucking his feet up under him. 

"Catch me up," Eddie demands, hugging his knees, resting his chin on his arms. 

And Steve does. One-by-one, he tells Eddie about anyone and everyone. 

They talk, and laugh, and Eddie feels like they've always been this close. It's weird. Maybe he's just that starved for conversation. 

But he doesn't think so. He's really having fun. 

"I'm glad you came," Eddie says, and Steve just grins. 

"Me too, man."

They sit in comfortable silence, then Steve asks, "You think you might come home? We'd all love it if you did. Your uncle, especially."

Eddie knows that's true, but he's still scared of that godforsaken place. He can't imagine just strolling back into town like nothing happened. 

"I don't think Hawkins wants that." Eddie says. 

"Fuck Hawkins. Seriously. We saved that shithole. If you want to come home, come home. They try to fuck with you? They'll have to come through me." 

Eddie's heart flip-flops in his chest. He isn't sure why. If it's the possibility of not being alone any more? Or the fact that Steve Harrington is willing to fight for him?

Both sound pretty damn good. 

"I don't know…"

Steve catches his eyes, and keeps them. 

"I do. If you want to come home, well, I'll help you pack." 

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

[luveline]

hope my boyfriend's okay request.

hi!!! can I request hurt comfort or angst with spencer reid? maybe reader is just an ordinary girl, not that smart, not that pretty, or even a college drop out (like reader from honeybody) so she is kinda insecure when spencer being kind to her or even ask her on a date?

tysm♡

"Do you want to play?" Spencer asks. 

You're flushed before you open your mouth, startled by his sudden appearance and the new haircut he sports, curls locked back behind his neck. "Sorry, I just wanted to sit down." 

"No, I'm just asking if you want to play," he says, shaking the little briefcase he holds between his fingers to emphasise the rattle of the chess pieces inside. 

You've stolen his chess table again at the park. It's how you met, how you continue to meet —you want somewhere to put your book as you read and Spencer hardly ever makes you move, he just sort of sits with you until someone is in need of an opponent. 

"I don't know how. I don't have the smarts." 

Spencer sits down opposite you, placing the briefcase against the white and black chequered tiles. "Playing chess isn't about being smart. Being good at chess takes learned skill, though. It's like learning a language. Most people can say hello and goodbye if they try, but fluency comes with practice." He smiles at you like you're lovely and pretty and someone worth explaining this too, when you're worrying It's filtering out of your head like water through a sieve. Draining, draining, gone. 

"I don't even think I could remember hello and goodbye," you say. Your attempt to smile back at him is pitiful. 

His smile ebbs. "You're sure you don't want to play? I'd go easy for you." 

You curl the cover of your paperback in your hands, deliberating. Chess is one of those games that seems never-ending. It's full of manoeuvres and techniques, openings, closings, all these learned combinations, strategy like nothing you've ever been able to comprehend. You've never wanted to learn because you know you won't be good, even if you try. 

"Okay," you say quietly. "I really won't be any good." 

Spencer shrugs and begins to retrieve the small wooden chess pieces. "I usually win anyways."

"Have you ever, um, competed? Like the grandmaster things?" 

"No, but I had a friend I competed against for a long time. We played a lot of games. He was better at winning, despite my advantage." Spencer arranges your pieces with care. "Do you need me to teach you the opening moves?" 

He explains slowly. When you need help, he gives it, and he doesn't lord it over your head. It's a little shameful seeing the difference in your intellectual capabilities displayed so clearly, and the longer the game goes on the worse you feel, even though Spencer lets you win. 

"You'll get better every game," he says, returning taken pieces to the board.  

"You want to play again?" you ask. "Come on, Spencer, that can't have been fun for you." 

"Why wouldn't it be?" 

"Because I'm a useless opponent? And I don't really have anything else going for me, either, so it must be boring." It's an awkward thing to say, self-deprecating and stilted considering you and Spencer aren't more than acquaintances. You regret it as soon as you've said it but the frustration of the situation sticks around. "I don't understand why you waste your time with me." 

"It's not wasted if it's with you." Spencer looks genuinely confused, shapely eyebrows pinching. "Is that what you really think? I like spending time with you, I don't need you to be a chess expert to find you interesting." 

"But there's nothing interesting,," you insist. 

"Of course there is…" He straightens a chess piece, gaze split between you and the board. "You don't have to say something from a journal for it to be worth saying. You know, I've had a thousand conversations this year, some of them with professors or academic experts, but," —he puts his hand, now finished with the chess pieces, over his elbow, meeting your eyes shamelessly— "the one I replay the most is from a few weeks ago, when you told me why you like to read in the park." 

"That was just small talk," you say weakly, though it hadn't felt small to you, and now you know it wasn't small for him either. 

"Then I guess I love small talk," Spencer says. "Do you want to play again? I'll teach you some good opening moves if you tell me more about you. Deal?" 

You nod hurriedly, and fail to hide a beaming smile. "Teach me the best one." 

"That's what I meant," he says. 

[appleblueberry-pie]

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

You and Suguru are roomates in this.

He hates this side of you. He hates everything about this side of you. If there was some form of higher power, he's begging them to tell him why, why out of everything he had to go through in his painful life, did he have to deal with this? All he's ever wanted was to be yours. He wants to be yours and he wants you to feel the same way for him, and he thought he was so fucking close.

You two sleep in the same house, you both do domestic chores together and he felt like you two were really beginning to bond after an entire year of living under the same roof. All of those years of stalking your everyday life after work, finding out your morning and night routines, memorizing your habits and hobbies, all of this just for you to give your full attention to a male human that knew nothing of your existence?

He can't say it out loud or his heart will stop, but you say that you love him. But he knows that look in your eyes. He's been giving it to you for years. You don't love him. You have a borderline unhealthy obsession with this animal. Every inch of his body is lit on fire whenever you mention him, knowing that he will never be able to have a chance due to your deranged fantasies of another he doesn't even consider to be anywhere near worthy enough for you to even lay your beautiful eyes on.

Why can't you see he's so much better?

He can't even distract himself on his phone right now. As much as he wants to block out your useless blabbing about him, he can't go two minutes without hearing your voice in general. It's an endless painful cycle.

As you're making dinner, cutting the potatoes in bite-sized pieces, Suguru wraps his arms around your midsection and peeks over your shoulder at the cutting board. Maybe he can distract you. "I can take over if you're tired," The vibrations from his chest reach your back and you hum, lost in thought. "No....I need to perfect this meat pie." His frown only deepens at what it implies and your smile only grows.

"Can you taste test this when it's done? I need about fifteen more minutes to-"

"Y/n, he doesn't even know you."

Your smile completely vanishes at his words and he lets go when you turn around, clenching the kitchen knife in your hand tighter. "Suguru, you know what this means to me. I know what he wants. And if I have to-"

"Don't. Just don't finish that sentence. Please." He slowly takes the knife from your hands and sets it on the counter behind you, stepping closer to you, looking deep into your eyes, hoping to find you in there somewhere. Because you've been drifting away from him for far too long.

"Y/n," His cold finger brushes so softly against the fat of your cheek and you're clearly jittery at the sensitive topic he just brough up. "You have to let him go." You already started shaking your head, knowing he was going to spew some nonsense. You turn your head to the pre-heated oven and he brings your face back to look at his own.

"Look at how you're acting. You haven't met this guy not even one time and you're attempting to perfect your cooking for him as if he would even be willing to try it from a stranger who's obsessed with him. He wouldn't like it. You wouldn't like it."

"I know how to act normal." You defend yourself, but it sounds more like you're attempting to convince yourself that you have a possibility with this man. Suguru begins to get annoyed at your defiance and doesn't know whether to just try and shove it into your head or try the softer way. Either way, you have to stop going after him. Or at least see that he's a better option.

"I know how to be normal. I've been practicing what I've been saying to him for a while now, and I'm pretty sure I got it down now. A-and I've been sending him gifts and letters and stuff and he hasn't reported me or anything. He never posted anything on any of his socials about the stuff I sent, so I think he thinks it's fine. His friends haven't said anything on their accounts either, so I think it's okay for me to keep trying. I'm close enough to his type of girl and I know the stuff he likes to do for fun, and what-"

The amount of energy and restraint he had to not just kill everyone within a 3 mile radius is something he didn't know he was capable of having in the first place. You reminded him too much of himself. Too much of how he already is with you. And if you were anywhere near like how he is with you and it's all directed towards that thing, he'd be sure to top your crazy pretty soon. And if he was anywhere near your type of crazy, he'd be in the right mind to erase that fool off of the face of the earth to get you to finally pay attention to him.

He deserves everything that animal has. And it's you. He has you wrapped around his finger and he doesn't know and it makes Suguru's blood boil with every second he acknowledges it. He will be dealt with accordingly.

[thoodleoo]

Hi! Can you help me out with something?

Ever since I was a kid, I've been in love with antiquity. My dream career was always something related to the study of dead languages, and ancient history, and literature. I've always been the kind of person that is full of doubts, indecision and insecurity, and yet I've always been sure of this one thing: I want to study ancient Greek literature, language, history, religion and philosophy.

I'm a history major (and latina, which I think is relevant because where I'm from, the narrative of "those people are the ancestors of our civilization" isn't as strong as it is in Europe or America, tho it does exists), and ever since I started college I've wondered what's the relevance of this knowledge? I look at my colleagues (although I know comparison is the killer of joy) and I see them studying modern politics, psychology, prison abolition, slavery, etc, and I just can't help but wonder what is my knowledge for. Everything they study is so relevant and important, and then I look at what I study and it feels like just one more interpretation of something that's been studied and analyzed a thousand times by a million different people. I don't mean to say it's useless, but there's already so much research in this field, people have been obsessed with Greece and Rome for centuries. Sometimes I search up some papers, and I look at their title and I can't help but think "man, what is left to say? Does this change anything? Does it matter?".

I don't know. I know there's so much I don't know about the field, but I just feel a bit hopeless — and that's fucking me up because there is no other choice, I want to study Greece and my heart won't be satisfied with anything else (believe me, I've tried). So, I guess what I wanna ask is, is there something I'm not seeing? Why did you choose to do what you do? Do you think it matters?

hm see this is something i often struggle with myself because i sometimes get in my head about like. actually WHY is it useful or helpful to know about different obscure uses of the ablative or what have you,

BUT. there are still TONS of things to learn about the ancient world, and there's always something new to say, and recent world events have been a pretty good reminder of how important it is to learn to examine things that are outside our own cultural context. ultimately humans exist for ourselves and for each other and there is always a benefit to furthering our understanding of the us-ness that makes makes us even WANT to look back on the way things used to be. i could go on and on about how studying classics is a great foundation for having conversations about things like politics and psychology and prison abolition, and it really IS a great field of study for teaching us how to think critically and live our lives in an informed manner. but also, i think that something mattering to you is enough to make it worth pursuing, because our humanity is what makes us want to pursue it.

really i chose to go into the classics because i love them and i want to share them and i think at this point theyre a fundamental part of my being. mayhaps that is not the most satisfying answer in terms of the importance of my contributions to the world but ultimately we are all here to be the most human self we can, and i find that valuable enough to keep going