#i have coursework dude

[communistkenobi]

What do you think of captain picard so far? I didn't like him at all and skipped episodes that focused on him.

completely sauceless 1) french 2) monotone 3) has not rolled around on the ground once

[euelios]

where is the line between “i won’t hold future me back on account of things i can’t quite manage Right Now” and “man i’ve never had this level of executive function in my life it would be foolish to expect otherwise”

[wisecura]

'Hate' Is A Strong Word

Izuku Midoriya x f!reader 5k

summary: for some reason, you've never liked Izuku Midoriya. call it bad vibes, a deep seated irritation, or just plain off-putting, you two just never connected. and even now as pro heroes you haven't uttered a single word to each other since high school. yet, you find yourself badly injured at his doorstep.

warnings: might be repetitive, gaslighting, manipulation, non-canon, dark fic, some blood, belittling, confinement, please don't read if you are sensitive to bad things happening to reader,

an: I haven't kept up with this fandom much but I still enjoy it. i've been busy with work and school. sadly, not fully proofread, but thank you for reading

You never quite took to Izuku Midoriya, even from the start. 

There was something about him. A nagging feeling that buzzed in the back of your mind whenever he was near.

He was the kind of guy everyone liked—or at least, no one dared to openly dislike. Shy, awkward, but undeniably kind, Izuku was the sort who'd go out of his way to help a stranger. Always pushing for justice, always the hero in waiting, the kind of well-rounded individual you'd expect to be universally admired. 

And yet, something about him set off alarms in your gut from the very first day you met. It was your first year in high school, you'd arrived at UA high, thrilled to be accepted into the hero course.

This is when you saw him.

He'd been introducing himself to other classmates, nothing different from the norm. Maybe it was the look in his eyes when they caught yours. The way he shyly moved over to greet you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to interrogate question you on your quirk, and from your understanding he kept tabs on everyone. It could've been the way his eyes seemed to trail you when you evaded his conversation, feeling odd at the line of questioning. You had no idea why every instinct tell you to keep your distance.

You did attempt friendship in those early years, especially when you noticed how easily he drew people in. Once all was settled in, he seemed to be a magnet, attracting the class in with his friendliness. Maybe that initial encounter had been a fluke? You thought that just maybe you were being overly dramatic—after all, Izuku was the epitome of harmlessness, always eager to lend a hand. No one else seemed to have an issue with him, even with his more...odd habits.

But despite your efforts, you just couldn't shake it off. Those creepy vibes you got. So you chalked it up to not meshing well. But you always watched from a distance, and continued your years making friends and overall enjoying the coursework.

Years passed, and both of you rose through the ranks to become pro heroes. 

Izuku, now known universally as Deku, consistently ranked in the top five—a celebrity in the world of pro heroes. Meanwhile, you held a respectable nineteenth place, not one for popularity races, and never quite as concerned with fame as you were with making tangible changes in the world. Not that he wasn't doing his part-

Deku was a household name, his exploits and acts of heroism the stuff of daily newsfeeds. The latest articles highlighted not just his achievements but his physical transformation too—he was now a striking 6’1", his features having matured into what many would consider handsome, listing out other measurements you hadn’t bothered to read about.

Yet, reading about him, seeing his photos splashed across the media, always stirred an inexplicable twist in your stomach. You had no logical reason to feel this way, yet the discomfort was undeniable. You still didn't like the dude.

Your interactions had been minimal since high school, limited to brief exchanges during professional gatherings. You weren’t friends, not really. But he was always friends of a friend with you. It was always weird to hear about him, and you tried to never ask-to never listen in when your friends talked about him.

And, now, as you scrolled through your phone, one hand pressed against your bleeding side, the irony of the situation didn't escape you.

This part of town was supposed to be safe, but here you were. Far from home and in trouble, late at night.

You needed to find somewhere to go—someone to plug this shit up. Your manager had recently updated your contacts with a list of “reliable partners” for emergencies—pretty handy timing, considering the mess you were in now. All listed with safe houses should you need it—your managers words echoing in the back of your mind: 'you'd better not be seen by anyone from the public'.

You had been on a secret mission, something big, something not everyone could handle. But your quirk was a perfect fit—or so you thought until things went south.

The leader of the crime ring turned out to be a lot tougher than the brief said, and instead of nabbing him quietly, you got roughed up pretty bad.

Glancing at your phone, the recommended safe locations popped up. And just your luck—it had to be him.

You frowned at the screen—thumb brushing down the refresh button desperately, but no other options seemed to be loading. There had to be someone else, but why wasn’t the stupid app showing anything?

Of course. Of-fucking-course. Whatever, beggars can’t be choosers, right?

Better not to bleed out on the pavement. You were sure your manager would kill you if this wound up in the newspapers.

Gritting your teeth, you pushed through the pain, straightening up as best you could. You tried to walk confidently into the lobby of a ridiculously upscale apartment building. It was way fancier than necessary, making you feel all the more out of place.

You barely reached the counter when the man behind it did a double-take. “Miss—““—I’m here to see Izuku Midoriya, please,” you cut him off before he could delve into questions you had no energy to answer.

He looked surprised for a moment, then turned his back to you to make the call. You could hear his hushed tones, and an even softer voice through the other end of the intercom. You couldn't make out what they were saying—maybe it was the blood loss affecting your concentration.

“Top floor, Miss—““—Thanks.” You turn away quickly, unable to keep a slight wobble from your steps. You hadn’t meant to be rude. You just really needed to sit down. 

You were a vision of resilience and grace as you press the elevator button, smearing the elevator door button in your own blood. The ride up feels like a century, each ding reminding you of the ticking clock against your injuries. You had time to turn back. To not face whatever was beyond the elevator doors. Did he open his home as a safe location often? What were you thinking—this was Deku—of course he did—

As the doors finally open, you're met with the minimalist, yet luxurious hallway leading to the penthouse suite—his suite.

It's been years since you've last even spoke to Izuku Midoriya, and now, under these circumstances, you're about to see him again.

Funny how fate plays its cruel games, huh?

Stepping out, you hesitate for just a moment before your survival instincts push you forward. Your fist meets the door, the knock more feeble than you intended. It's only a matter of seconds before the door swings open, revealing Izuku Midoriya in person.

He's taller, broader, and his eyes—those damn eyes—haven't changed a bit. He's definitely lost that baby face, his features much more defined, almost handsome. The sight of him makes your heart race for reasons you can't even begin to pin down before that deep voice reaches your ears.

"Shit, you look like hell," wide eyed, he blurts out. "What happened?"

You try to muster a smile, but all you manage is a grimace. "Got into a bit of trouble. Mind if I come in? Kinda bleeding out here," you quip, half-joking, but entirely serious.

He doesn't hesitate, grabbing your arm, gently but firmly, as he helps you inside. "Of course, come in. What are friends for?" he says, though you both know the term 'friends' might be a stretch, you sure as hell weren't gonna comment on it now.

Oddly enough, he doesn't press you for more details, instead guiding you to the sofa. "Let me look at that wound," he says, already moving to fetch a first aid kit and a towel. You feel somewhat guilty at your thoughts as you watch him, his movements efficient and practiced. What if you bled out onto his couch? And now that'll be the first thing on his mind when he sees it? what're you even thinking?

How often has he done this? You mind briefly flashes back to a news report you'd seen recently, of him saving a group of people from a hostage situation turned deadly. And despite your reservations about him, you can't help but feel a reluctant admiration stirring within you. That and this. He really wasn't a bad dude. Maybe a bit awkward, but who wasn't?

You raise your shirt slightly, exposing the expanse of your stomach, an audible sigh from him before his hands find their way to clean the area, surprisingly gentle.

It's a strange intimacy, one you make damn sure to ignore. In other situations you may have blushed, leading with a 'buy me drinks first' joke but you really didn't want to add to the moment.

"Do I want to ask how the other guy looks?" Izuku teases lightly, a break from his jaw tensing, a small smile playing on his lips. Despite yourself, a laugh escapes—bitter but genuine.

"Yeah, I may have gotten the short end here," you reply, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there that wasn’t present in your school days, a maturity that seems to fit him well. It annoys you, seeing how much he's grown into himself, into the hero everyone expected him to be. Was it jealousy? No, that couldn’t be it.

Sitting there, letting Izuku tend to your wounds, you can’t help but feel a twist in your stomach that’s not from the injury. It’s from the sheer absurdity of the situation—seeking help from someone you’ve always distrusted, yet here he is, proving to be the hero he always aimed to be. Not asking for anything in return, always helpful, always willing.

And, yes, that bugged the shit out of you. You were wrong.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" His eyes flick back over to you, stilling your breath. He lets out another sigh, unwrapping the bandage from his kit.

"The Gokudo Group, right?" You look away, refusing to meet his heavy gaze. He didn't seem entirely happy with the direction of the conversation—

"How do you know about that?" The question sounded silly the second it left your mouth. A top pro hero knowing about a mission so close to his residence? It'd be stranger if he hadn't heard about it. He lets out another soft chuckle, and you feel yourself blush at the way it seemed to lick up your spine.

"Let's call it a guess." As he finishes bandaging your wound, his touch lingers a moment on your side, reminding you of his closeness.

"You should rest," he suggests, his voice soft, almost nonchalant. He seems to see no issue with the idea. A man. A woman. Alone in a pent house sweet. "Stay here tonight. It's late, and you're not in any condition to go anywhere."

You want to protest, to assert your independence, but the room tilts slightly as you try to sit up straighter, his grip tightening on your waist as you let out a small painful whimper. He doesn’t seem too put off by the idea of you staying, and realistically, blood loss was indeed a bitch.

"I guess...I don't have much choice," the words tasting sour on your tongue. For a fleeting moment, Izuku's seems like he wants to say something, fighting with his inner voice, before settling on something else.

"...Of course, you're always welcome here," he assures you, his tone dripping with a sincerity that feels too thick, too heavy. He stands, pressing a button on the wall to adjust the blinds, casting the room into a dim glow. He stands illuminated in a warm glow by the lamp in the corner. Your heart continues its gymnastics, flipping in ways you can't fucking believe.

"Let me get you some water, maybe something for the pain." As he disappears into the kitchen, you try to relax against the plush cushions of his sofa, feeling much more guilty at the thoughts you'd had not even thirty minute prior. This wasn't how you imagined your evening would end, and his kindness seemed to eat away at you by the second.

Your gaze drifts around the neatly kept space, landing on small, personal touches that seem innocuously domestic. Photographs of smiling faces, trophies from his hero work, books on strategy and quirk development. It's all so…Midoriya.

When he returns, he hands you a glass of water and a pill, his smile reassuring. "This will help with the pain," he says, and you take the small tablet from him, your fingers brushing against his, the contact somewhat nerve-wracking.

"Thanks," you whisper, downing the medicine without a second thought. He watched you closely for a second, another thought on the tip of his tongue before he decides to just sit down next to you. Not close enough to warrant a side glance, but close enough that you can smell his smooth cologne, a soothing fragrance that lingers in the back of your throat. A smell that was distinct, unforgettable.

"You know," hesitating, "...I always...hoped we'd get a chance to catch up," his voice a soft murmur blending into the backdrop of the city's faint sounds filtering through the window. You would've sworn he hadn't said anything if it wasn't for your good hearing. "...I've followed your career, you know. You're doing amazing things."

His words sound like a compliment, but you can't help but think: just how closely has he been watching me? The tension in the room was so fucking awkward....

And the comment was innocent enough, so you push the feeling aside, chalking it up to paranoia. He's being nice. He's being nice.

You literally have no reason to doubt him.

Whatever. You can't shake that nag, you're fighting with yourself just to lean into the small comfort he provided, but that itch keeps coming back the more he talks. Just keep your distance, like always, and make your exit in the morning before he wakes up. Maybe send a fruit basket when you get back home as a parting 'thank you' gift.

"Yeah, well, we've both been busy, I guess," He watches you a moment, his expression unreadable before offering a gentle smile. You let out a small yawn, scooting further into the couch. Further away from his spreading legs, hoping to convey your sleepiness.

"Very busy," he agrees, as he stands to grab a blanket from a nearby closet. Thankful for the space, you breath a sigh of relief. You jump when he comes back, yet his voice is gentle, and his movements are tender, almost loving, as he drapes the blanket over you.

You notice his hands tremble slightly—a nervous energy you remember all too well from your high school days. He's nervous. And it sets you on edge even more, despite the fact that he couldn't be more welcoming to you in this moment—a pillar of comfort and support. The blanket he brought was so fuzzy and warm. Your favorite color too.

"Looks like we finally get that catch-up session, huh?" he chuckles easily. You half-expected him to retreat to his room once you were settled, but here he was, still the same Midoriya, despite looking so incredibly different. Never fully catching that hint. You manage a weary smile, feeling the weight of your eyelids, barely still able to converse.

"Yeah, it's been a while. Life as a pro hero doesn't exactly leave much free time for reunions," Izuku nods enthusiastically, sliding a bit closer to you on the sofa until you can feel the warmth radiating from his leg just inches away. You subtly scoot away, maintaining a polite distance, his eyes wide, as he enthusiastically regals your most recent mission.

"That rescue mission form last week was just spectacular, the way you dove right in, you were just perfect, and those people you saved--" He stops himself, realizing he was about to go into a whirlwind. He lets out a nervous laugh, "Sorry,"

But you give him the best smile you can muster up with the gaping wound in your side. And subtly, almost unconsciously, his leg inches even closer to yours, again. You try to dismiss it, reminding yourself of how he always a little closer with his friends—maybe this is just another subconscious thing he did?

"Thanks, Midoriya. You’ve not done too badly yourself," you reply, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of humor. "Top five, right? I always knew you’d shoot up."

He absorbs your compliment, his face lighting up from the small bit of praise you've given him. His gaze narrows in, almost studying you, as if he’s trying to memorize your every expression.

When he speaks again, there's a hint of shyness in his voice, a subtle clinginess that feels slightly misplaced. "You know, I always thought maybe we’d end up working together, you know? Side by side." His voice dips a bit at the end, his eyes are earnest, almost pleading, as they search yours for a reaction.

"That’s...a....nice thought," deliberately avoiding his gaze, though the idea of being this close to him in any capacity would be too much, too soon.

Izuku’s expression momentarily falters, resembling a dejected puppy, and he quickly tries to mask his disappointment, shifting his demeanor to regain some of his earlier lightness. “But hey, we’re here now, right? Maybe it’s fate or something,” he jokes weakly, forcing another lighthearted laugh.

The word 'fate' hangs between you, heavy and foreboding. “Maybe,” you echo, not quite sharing in his forced cheer. The conversation pauses, leaving you acutely aware of the rapid beating of your own heart in the silence that follows.

"Yeah–heh–it’s been quite the journey," he admits, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "But....enough about me. Tell me about you. How have things been...really?"

You shift under the blanket, feeling a bit unnerved by his continued presence. Why didn't he just go to bed? You hadn't even talked much about him in the first place. Was he fishing for something?

"Busy, eventful, and endlessly tiring," you answer truthfully, hoping your frankness might send a subtle hint, topping it off with another yawn.

He nods, mouth quirking up in a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "I can imagine. It must be hard, always being on the move—never able to find time for yourself, never able to catch up. Always the playing the 'hero'."

The way he says 'hero'—with a trace of something like displeasure—makes you pause, almost surprised. "...Well, someone's gotta do it, right?"

"Right, right," Izuku agrees, though his voice trails off, leaving a lingering question in the air. He seems to gather his thoughts, his eyes meeting yours.

"You know, I've always wondered..." his tone shifts slightly, becoming more contemplative, "why we never got along better. I mean, we were always in the same circles, kind of."

You feel a slight tightening in your chest as the topic veers dangerously close to the unease you've always felt around him. "Yeah, I guess we just had different…interests," you hedge, trying to keep the conversation light and steer away from deeper waters that you’d prefer not to navigate.

How exactly could you explain to him that you found him incredibly fucking creepy until now? And even now.....

Izuku's response is slow, thoughtful. "Maybe,"

He concedes, his tone reflecting a tinge of dissatisfaction, voice more probing and less subtle than you've ever heard it before. "But I've always respected you, you know? Always thought highly of your abilities."

"Thanks, Midoriya. That means a lot," you reply, not sure how to respond, not used to the praises from someone like him.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I've always wanted to be...closer. To understand you better. I felt like we never really got the chance."

His words hang in the air, and you're hit by the raw honesty in his voice—an honesty that's bordering on confrontation or confession—you aren't sure. You scramble for a diplomatic response, your mind racing. You didn't want to upset him here, but you sure as hell weren't looking to become best buds.

"Midoriya, it’s not that we didn't get a chance. We just...didn’t.....vibe that way. It happens."

"But why?" His frustration is more evident this time, his voice tense, losing that more playful tone. "I’ve seen how you are with others—laughing, sharing. I just don't get why I never got that side of you."

"It’s nothing personal, Midoriya. I’ve always been more introverted....Maybe our timing was just....off or something."

But he just can't seem to let this go. He's always liked you, but you've always seemed to avoid him. He's never been able to figure it out.

"...I mean, it's not like I haven't tried, right?" he starts again, his tone becoming harsher, a drastic shift from his usual soft charisma. His fingers tap rhythmically against his knee, a clear sign of his restlessness. "I always asked about you, you know. Whenever I ran into someone who knew you, I made sure to find out how you were doing." The revelation sends a chill down your spine.

This could have been sweet—checking in on a friend—but his words sound creepier, like he was stalking you or something, and his intense gaze makes you recoil slightly.

"I just...I've always liked you. A lot, actually," he continues, his tone bordering on accusatory. "And I don't think you ever noticed. Or maybe you did and just didn't care."

"That’s…that's a lot to take in," you respond cautiously, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Yeah, well, it's been a lot for me too, watching from the sidelines. Always the hero everyone loves, except for the one person I actually wanted to impress," his voice rising slightly with frustration.

He continues rambling, each sentence more unsettling than the last. "I've kept tabs on you. I know it might sound weird, but I had to know. I thought if I knew more about what you liked, what you did, maybe I could find a way to be part of that." His confession sends a cold shiver down your spine.

"Isn't that just ridiculous?" he laughs, the sound hollow—bitter, filling the increasingly claustrophobic room. His eyes become distant and slightly frantic. He couldn’t stop himself.

"Midoriya, I think you’re reading too much into this—” you start, trying to defuse the tension, but he cuts you off. "No, I don't think so. I think you've always known how I felt. And you used it against me. Kept me at arm's length on purpose," he accuses, his voice turning harsh.

Witnessing Izuku transform from the awkward, 'lovable' hero you once knew into this intense, confirmed everything that nagged in the back of your head before. An anger issue? Ego problems?

"Everyone else always sees the best in me. Why couldn’t you? What made you so different?" he demands, his voice laden with a toxic mix of longing and bitterness. Finding yourself speechless, the situation spirals beyond your control. "Midoriya, please, this isn’t healthy. We should—”

"Healthy?" scoffing. "What do you know about healthy? You've barely even looked at me all these years. And now, you show up only when you need something? That's a bit contradictory, don't you think?"

The realization that you are alone with him, caught in this escalating situation, keeps you mind spiraling into a semi state of panic. Your sense heighted—fight or flight.

"You know, it's always been more than just platonic for me," his gaze cutting through the dimly lit room, locking onto you with an unsettling earnestness. He too close, too close, "I've cared about you in ways I probably shouldn't have. And I've waited...waited for you to see that."

"Midoriya, maybe we can talk about this tomorrow? It's been a long day, and I really think I should head home and rest," you suggest, reaching for your phone to call an Uber.

"You said you'd stay the night," he reminds you, snatching the phone quickly from your hands. "Are you really going to go back on your word now? After I've opened my home to you, treated your wounds?"

Caught off guard by his overt pushiness and blatant aggression, you stammer, "Hey—Midoriya, I didn't mean—"

"No, you never mean to, do you?" he cuts in, his tone increasingly harsh. "You come here, into my home, ask for my help, reject my friendship—once again, and now you want to leave just like that? It’s always the same with you. You take what you need and then you're gone."

"That's not fair, Midoriya. I appreciate everything you've done tonight, but I'm really not feeling well, and this conversation is a lot to process," you explain, trying to maintain your composure under his scrutinizing gaze.

Izuku's tone shifts, blending accusation with a hint of hurt, his face morphing into that lovable sad expression he wore on occasion. Much like a kicked puppy. "That isn't right. I thought you were a good person. I'm just trying to understand your problem with me. What's wrong with that?"

You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself amidst the emotional whirlwind he's creating. "Midoriya, trying to understand each other isn't the problem," you begin cautiously, "but the way you're going about it—it's overwhelming. It feels like you're not just asking for understanding—you're demanding a specific response from me, one that I'm not prepared to give."

His brow furrows, and his stance becomes defensive. "So, you're saying I'm overwhelming you? I'm some evil guy? Me? A top pro hero? After all these years of keeping my distance, the moment I try to be honest about my feelings, I'm suddenly too much?"

"No, that's not what I mean, Midoriya—please—"

Izuku’s question slices through the tense air, unexpected and jarring. “Do you have a boyfriend?” His tone holds an edge of possessiveness that makes you uneasy. The query, seemingly out of nowhere, is clearly aimed at gauging your 'availability'—challenging it.

“No, but that’s not the point,” but Izuku scoots in closer, his larger frame hovering over your laid back one. Yes, he was much bigger than he was in high school. And yes his broad shoulders stood out 3 inches past your own. You couldn't stop your panicked breathing, the situation too unbelievable.

As Izuku inches closer, his large frame overshadows you, physically cornering you against the back of the sofa. The space feels oppressively small, his presence suffocating. His voice carries a chilling mix of sweetness and venom that you've never heard before, unsettlingly different from the hero you thought you knew.

“So, let’s get this straight....again.,” you avoid his gaze, near impossible from how close he is, “You’ve never had time for me, always brushed off my attempts to be close, and now here you are, in my home, accepting my help after all these years. And you think you can just leave after that, like nothing happened?”

You feel a bit embarrassed when he puts it like that.

“Izuku, I just came here because I needed help, I never meant to—”

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You needed help, and I was convenient for you,” he cuts you off, his voice soft but laced with a sharp edge. “Isn’t it funny how after all these years of avoiding me, suddenly I’m the one you run to when you’re vulnerable? Does that seem fair to you?”

“I’ve always cared about you, more than you know,” his voice lowering to a whisper. “I’ve watched you from afar, always hoping you’d look back. But you didn’t. And now here you are, finally seeing me, but only because you need something. Don’t you owe it to me to stay? After everything?”

His question hangs heavily in the air, charged with expectations you never consented to. Flustered and trying to maintain some sense of normalcy, you start to respond. “I-I’m sorry, Midoriya—”“—Izuku. Please, after all this time, don't you think you could call me by my first name? It’s like you’re still trying to keep me at arm’s length, even now,” The hurt very clear in his voice.

As you struggle to find the right words, trying to navigate the complex emotional minefield he specifically laid out, his next action catches you completely off guard. Without waiting for your consent, he suddenly shoots up, his arms scooping you up in a princess-style carry, far too easily, but expected from a bulky pro hero. The suddenness leaves you flabbergasted and flushing bright red.

"I-Izuku," you stammer, your voice tinged with shock and a hint of protest. "Ah, much better," he responds with a pleased smile. The smile he gives you is something else—wide and triumphant, as he carries you to another room.

The large room he brings you into is softly lit, the bed neatly made. You noticed a vanity on the side wall, feminine products lining the small shelf—eerily similar to the products you have in your cabinet at home. The room was set to your exact style, items you had at home—in your online wish list—were all here.

He sets you down gently on the bed, and the reality of the situation sinks in deeper. He observes you for a moment, a mocking smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as if amused by your discomfort. As if he's observing a cute puppy, learning to walk on its own.

"Time for bed. I'll be back tomorrow." He turns to leave, and you reach out for him. "Izuku, wait—" voice laden with a plea for some semblance of normalcy—some answer to the questions you refused to voice, the room you were actively refusing to acknowledge.

"What's wrong?" he interjects with a grin, his tone cooing, demeaning, belittling. "You’re not going to ask me to tuck you in or stay the night, are you?" You could hear the underlying challenge. The jest sent to provoke something from you. "No, that’s not—I just think we need to talk about tonight," You're voice stead, yet you're on the brink of tears, the fear creeping up the back of your neck. A pro hero, a pro hero, he's a pro hero—

Izuku's face hardens at your words, his posture stiffening as he sits on the edge of the bed. "Talk? We’ve been talking all night. You said you wanted rest right?" he retorts defensively. "You’re safe here, aren’t you? I’m taking care of you, after all. What’s there to complain about?"

You know something isn’t right, but his aggressive pushback and the veiled mockery in his tone make you second-guess your instincts to speak up.

"Yeah, I...Thank you...Izuku," you find yourself saying, the words heavy on your tongue. The unease churns in your stomach, but the mean look in his eyes silences the protests forming in your mind. You lie back on the bed, covering yourself quickly, still in your street attire.

Izuku nods, seemingly satisfied with your subdued response. "See? That’s better. Just relax, I’ve got everything under control," he says, his tone soothing yet laced with a possessiveness that doesn’t escape you.

As he turns off the light and exits the room, leaving you in the dim glow of the nightlight, you're left to grapple with the unsettling blend of guilt and apprehension, too nervous now to challenge the dynamic he’s forcefully set.

Would you be allowed to leave tomorrow?

come home

[melodic-haze]

I HAD NO IDEA U WROTE FOR HSR OMG.. what do you think of bratty sub seele who just wants you to put her in her place?? i love her so bad i feel sick omfgjdksn

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Seele x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader has a cock/strap referred as such 🤷‍♀️, rough sex, impact play, dumbification, orgasm denial, vibrator use, implied public vibe play :3

☆ — NOTES: 🌈THE MORE YOU KNOW🌈 YES I DO WRITE FOR HSR!!! I've been on the grind recently too. Like initially I found it kinda boring but I came back bc of Acheron so now I have it running in auto the bg while I'm doing coursework. I'm waiting for Robin but I'm still in FUCKING XIANZHOU 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Bratty sub Seele ohhhhhmygod anon I think I'm going to COMBUST dude

All that bravado and what does she use it on? Fucking pissing you off to the high heavens above

She's a headstrong character!! She don't gaf ab what anyone thinks when she KNOWS she's in the right (and even when she's wrong she'll still put up a fight lmfao)

Unfortunately for you (or fortunately, whichever way you look at it 🤷‍♀️), she LOVES going out of her way to be deliberately infuriating too, making sure you're watching her all the while

You're glad that Seele and Bronya are enjoying themselves. Really, you are! Having Belobog united again proved to be a good decision, and having them spearhead the tides of change turned out to be more than beneficial.

..But for some reason, today just seemed off. You don't know why, but you felt irritated.

Maybe it was what you ate this morning, maybe it was something that happened yesterday.. or maybe it was how Seele behaved.

You accompanied her to help with the efforts to unify all of Belobog once again, but ypu feel yourself regretting it when you see how.. business seems to be conducted.

It started off as small touches here and there; the Wildfire member giving Belobog's brand new Guardian a pat on the back, or a touch on her shoulder to grab her attention when the latter was focused on the paperwork in front of her. But then it progressed—Seele leaning into Bronya's back to read something that caught her attention, holding her hand when it isn't really necessary...

Of course body contact isn't really rare between the two—they formed some kind of bond when Bronya was stuck in the Underground—but there was just something extra annoying to how your girlfriend had haphazardly draped herself on the Silvermane Commander's body.

You did feel bad for feeling this way, especially when Bronya was involved because the poor girl did nothing wrong! But when you see the Underworlder smirk right at you as she went to hug the new Guardian for a problem now solved?

It was really hard not to get annoyed.

What's worse is that it seems that Seele knew that well.

You try to drag her away for a little "break" and she fully denies ANYTHING she's done

"You know," she says with a smug grin, "if you're going to try and help, then you should probably start by analysing what we do less and helping us with the work more."

You crossed your arms, "Don't know if you've noticed, but I have been doing it. Oh, but you were practically all over Bronya, so it's no surprise you didn't notice a thing."

She shrugged, "I've just been showing my appreciation for her efforts. Being the Supreme Guardian seems like a hassle, so."

While you do agree, you can't help but feel your blood boil a little at the smug look on her face.

She knew what she was doing.

And you can't have that.

You don't drag her back home immediately, no. You did still have a job to do, and it'd be rude to leave Bronya alone last minute!!! But when you were basically allowed to go, you drag her back IMMEDIATELY. She's gonna be complaining all the while, and even if you snap at her and tell her to behave she won't. It's like she WANTS to be punished (she does 🤷‍♀️)

And when you do get home? Ohhh you need to take action right that very second bc she'd STILL a huge loudmouth, she won't shut her gob about how you're 'overreacting' or something........so you may as well use that mouth for something

Instead of snapping at her, snap your hips to her mouth 🥰 let that dick fill her mouth up, give her something else to do aside from constantly talk shit and essentially dig her grave even more than necessary!!! Don't hold back either, cuz if you do then she's gonna taunt you. "'s that the best you've got? Please," she'd go. Make her work on you before absolutely ABUSING her face, make her gag and forget whatever retort she had ready. Oh, she wanted you to be rougher?? She better not come crying to you by the time you're done 🫶

You pull out of her after a bit but you're not done. Oh NOnonono absolutely not lol you turn her around and push her down so she's on all fours with her back facing you. You have to punish her thoroughly, you can't just leave it half-assed!!! Slap her ass hard, do NOT hold anything back this bitch is gonna keep whining you like a little brat otherwise. You need to discipline her properly, so keep abusing her backside until it's all red and her eyes are glazing over

Oh, but what's this???? Despite the fact that she's yelping and screaming from every hit you inflict on her, when you palm her cunt you realise that she's soaking wet down there, and she only gets wetter the more you spank her. Is your poor little baby actually getting off on this?? Actually pathetic lol

Just like everything else in your session, fuck her fast and HARD. Absolutely abuse her hole down here just like you did her other one until she can't even form fucking words anymore. Don't stop spanking her either!!! So much would be happening at once and her tiny little brain won't be able to handle it, turning into mush as you fuck her sooooo dumb

The pace you went at was absolutely relentless, only ever stopping when you felt tired, not if she needed a break. And why would you ever ask her if she needed a break? Even as she kept begging you to stop because it feels too much, she can't think anymore, why would you ever consider actually thinking about her? If she really wanted you fo stop, you both know that the safeword is right there.

Plus with the way Seele looks right now—mouth agape as drool trailed down her chin, eyes rolled back, slick coating your cock and her thighs—you don't really think she wants to stop. Quite the opposite, actually.

"Is this.. what you wanted the entire time?" You grunted as you pulled her neckerchief up to get her closer to you and maybe cut off her breathing, but when you feel her buck against you with moan, you find that she isn't complaining in the least. Your force never falters as you spoke, "Me having my way.. with you.. and reminding you where you belong?"

You hadn't really expected an answer from her in this state, not like you cared when you were more concerned about essentially reducing her into nothing but your pretty little fleshlight, but you see her nod shakily.

When she hums out in agreement, it comes out as more of a whine when your tip hits that particular spot inside her, "Y-- Yeeeesss..! Fuuuck, I've been sss-- such a bad girl-- ohfuckfuckFUCK right thereee... I'll do whate-- whatever you want just pleasepleasepleaseeee don't stop I'm almost--"

You rolled her eyes, "If you wanted attention, all you had to do was say so.. but if you love this so much then what's stopping me from just--" you let go of her neckerchief and slipped yourself out while your palm hits her stinging skin particularly hard, "--taking it all away from you?"

There, she lets out the biggest fucking whine as she drops before she screams out, her legs quivering and her pussy fluttering around nothing. Her cum gushes out of her, wetting the surface underneath you, as her body shook at the force of her orgasm.

"I didn't give you permission to cum, baby."

"'m.. s-sorryyy... Please don't be mad, I--"

"'Sorry' this, 'please' that, you get the opportunity to be a dumb brat and you take it happily but the moment it's something you want, you try to be a good girl." You turn her around so that she's facing you and you hit her inner thigh with a glare, to which she sobs so pathetically, "You're being selfish, Seele. I think I need to break you in again, make you remember how you behave."

Her breath hitches and she looks at you with such wide and teary eyes, but you know with the way her pupils are blown wide that she more than wants this.

By the time you're near finished, you COULD actually have her cum on your terms.....OR you could absolutely deny her of that privilege because really, why would you ever reward her for being a little shit????

Pull out of her when she hits her peak and make her suck your cock as you put a vibrator in her pussy in the lowest possible fucking setting. She's gonna whine and plead you to help her finish but don't help her 🤷‍♀️ tell her to leave it in until tomorrow's day ends. If she doesn't act like a whore like she did today then you'll reward her greatly!!!! But if not? Then you'll be doing this all over again, having the vibe in her and stimulating her in public until she learns to behave

That's what she wanted after all—to be punished appropriately

She acts like she's against it too, but if she was then she would've made it genuinely known and she could take it out herself.....but when you see her put her clothes on the next day with the toy peeking out before she coves it up with her panties, well. Doesn't seem like she really hates it after all 🫶

[yjw1a1]

ANGOSTURA (TEASER) | PJS

PAIRING. Park Jongseong x female reader. GENRE. contemporary romance, drama and angst, University romance WORD COUNT. pendingg WARNINGS. brief mentions of overdose and heavy substance abuse, it's not graphic, I just thought I would mention it. cursing, and alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER. This was inspired by keshi's song Angostura. I take credit for this story because it I wrote it with my imagination. characters used are just for the story and may not be how they are in irl. SUMMARY. Y/N never expected her junior year of college to be anything but routine—long nights in the research lab, endless pre-med coursework, and keeping her social circle small. But after an unplanned encounter with Jay, a reserved yet enigmatic student stuck in General Chemistry to fulfill a lab requirement, her carefully structured world starts to shift.

DATE RELEASED. ...PENDING...

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the campus courtyard, where different student organizations had set up their fundraising tables, calling out to passing students in an attempt to secure donations.

Faaiya adjusted the sign at her table for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Build-A-Bouquet – $8”

Underneath, in smaller text: All proceeds go toward funding STEM outreach programs for local elementary schools.

She exhaled, rubbing her hands together to warm them. It had been a long day, and she barely had the energy to keep up her usual fundraising pitch.

Still, she forced a polite smile as a pair of students approached, quickly helping them pick out a bouquet of white daisies and sunflowers.

Then she heard them.

A familiar trio.

“Why are flowers so expensive?”

Jake’s voice—loud, confused, and clearly not meant for discretion.

Faaiya closed her eyes briefly before forcing herself to look up.

Jake, Sunghoon, and Jay stood a few feet away, unmistakable in their presence. They weren’t the type to blend into a crowd, whether they wanted to or not. Dressed in varying degrees of casual disarray—Jake in a hoodie and joggers, Sunghoon looking effortlessly put together despite wearing the same black jacket he always did, and Jay, hands in his pockets, posture loose but observant.

Faaiya sighed. “Are you actually here to buy something, or are you just here to stand around and question the economy?”

Sunghoon smirked. “Little bit of both.”

Jake, ever the instigator, grinned. “We were just walking by, and Jay was so interested in your fundraiser that we had to stop.”

Jay didn’t react to the comment, but his gaze flickered briefly to Faaiya, as she crossed her arms. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Jake drummed his fingers against the table. “So, how does this work? We pick, or do you?”

“You pick,” Faaiya said flatly.

Jake immediately turned to Sunghoon. “Dude, we should build one for you.”

Sunghoon scoffed, stepping back. “Absolutely not.”

Faaiya exhaled. “It’s for charity, not matchmaking.”

“Charity?” Sunghoon repeated, raising a brow. “Sure.”

Jake ignored him, turning back to the table with exaggerated interest. “So, what flowers would Sunghoon like?”

Sunghoon sighed. “I don’t want flowers.”

Jake grinned. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say until they receive some, and suddenly, they have feelings.”

Faaiya rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Jay, who had yet to say anything.

“Are you just here for the show?” she asked.

Jay’s lips quirked slightly. “Maybe.”

Jake finally made his selection—a chaotic mix of marigolds, baby’s breath, and a single red rose. Sunghoon looked like he was physically restraining himself from making a comment.

Jay, meanwhile, reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill. He placed it on the table without hesitation.

A twenty.

Faaiya frowned. “I don’t have change.”

Jay tilted his head slightly, like he was amused by her response. “That’s fine.”

Jake let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest. “He’s donating?” Sunghoon shook his head in mock disbelief. “Didn’t think I’d see the day.”

Jay ignored them, instead gesturing lazily toward the flowers. “Pick for me.”

“Okay, demanding,” Faaiya mumbled. She hesitated before pulling together a bouquet—deep orange chrysanthemums, sprigs of rosemary, and white carnations. She wrapped them quickly, tying them off with a thin ribbon.

Jay accepted it without question, turning it over in his hands. Sunghoon eyed the arrangement. “You pick those on purpose?”

Faaiya shrugged. “It’s fall. Seemed fitting.”

Jake leaned in, still grinning. “And what do they mean?”

Faaiya adjusted the remaining flowers in her bin. “This is a fundraiser, Jake. not a show and tell of the meaning of flowers–.”

Jake groaned, cutting her off. “C’mon, Yunjin talks all the time about you geeking out on flower meanings so—”

Jay interrupted. “Chrysanthemums for resilience, rosemary for remembrance, and carnations…” He glanced at Faaiya, as if waiting for her to fill in the rest.

She crossed her arms looking away. “Purity.”

Sunghoon let out a low whistle. “Damn. Thought you weren’t thinking too hard about it?”

“I wasn’t,” Faaiya said evenly. “It just makes sense.”

Jay hummed, still turning the bouquet between his fingers, his expression unreadable, then tucked the bouquet under his arm, stepping back.

Jake pouted. “That’s it? No sentimental speech? No grand gesture?”

Jay ignored him. “You done?”

Sunghoon sighed, already walking away. “Yes. Please.”

Jake huffed but followed, tossing Faaiya a quick wink as he did. “See you around, flower girl.”

Faaiya rolled her eyes, watching as they disappeared into the crowd.

[wishiesworld]

CH. 01 - weenie hut junior (intro)

Y/N rolled her eyes and locked her phone. She was in the library studying for the upcoming organic chemistry exam. She regrets taking the class when she didn't need to... she simply was just an overachiever. The class was hard but she enjoyed the challenge and was doing fairly well having an A in the course. As she put her head back down to lock into her coursework again the slight stench of weed interrupted her senses. Rolling her eyes she looked up to see a tall blonde male walk past her. He had looked familiar but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. He could have been in one of her classes but her lectures were all quite large so she would never figure out what class it was unless she actively looked for the man. She simply didn't care enough to do that though. She grabbed her apple pencil and IPad and went back to note taking.

Sion's P.O.V

He groaned putting his head against the cool desk... Yushi snickered, "Dude, it can't be that bad. I liked chemistry in school personally." Sion lifted his head and glared at Yushi, "Then you take the fucking class dickhead." crossing his arms as the two other boys laughed.. "Woah hostile much?" Riku said as he held his hands up. Sion ruffled his hair and grabbed his ice americano taking a sip. "Guys I have to pass this exam on Friday like seriously or I have no chance of graduating on time." Both boys nodded in acknowledgment. Riku piped in, "Hey but at least there is a party Friday you can make some money and release some stress." What Riku said suddenly made Sion feel motivated because he had something to look forward to instead of simply dreading the day coming around. He decided to start focusing again grabbing his textbook and taking a deep breath before getting back to reading.

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taglist (open): @saranghoeforanton @lvsdoyo @mbella607 @chengerinelove

A/N: This is just an intro chapter! I hope you guys enjoy it... The other chapters will be longer than this I just wanted to go ahead and drop these. I want to acknowledge this is my first go at fic writing! Also please remember this story is just silly and for fun lol!

minors do not interact please !

© wishiesworld 2025 | do not steal, translate or copy my work

[dbmars]

DB Reads Hannibal Rising: Philip Larkin Part II

I have some background in poetry -- I have a BA in English and an MA in similar coursework -- and like any good goth kid, I wrote a lot of angsty poetry in high school. In undergrad, I took a class on Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton, poets who inhabited similar spaces as wives and mothers in the 1950s and '60s. They both died by suicide, of course, which perpetuates the whole "tortured artist" romanticized image of causing one's own death. 18-year-old me was drawn to that, of course, and depending on how the class was handled, it could have been an irresponsible syllabus to offer young people. But my professor, Tom, was just... wonderful. In a time (2003) when we didn't have a lot of the language we use today to discuss mental health, he did an excellent job handling the topic and giving a middle-aged perspective that brought wisdom instead of perpetuating the narrative built around these poets and their deaths.

Tom taught me so much about poetry and made me feel comfortable speaking up in a class full of strangers. He gave me great feedback on my papers and let me be my weird little self. I took his class on James Agee and he let me do a puppet show version of "Night of the Hunter" for one of the assignments though I honestly cannot remember why I felt I needed to do that. I didn't come here to write about him, but I'm realizing right now, mid-post, that he's a perfect case study for human beings being paradoxically brilliant and kind and inspiring while also being cancel-worthy and gross.

Tom was in his 40s when I had him as a professor in undergrad (2002-2006). Generously, he could have been late 30s and just losing his hair early. He wasn't shy about sharing personal details, and told us he'd been married and divorced already and had kids that I want to say were late high school age, like he got married pretty young. I took Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton with him, along with the James Agee class and a bunch of other ones -- whatever he was teaching, I was there for it in both undergrad and my MA courses. He had a profound impact on my learning and pretty much taught me how to write literary analysis and pull in philosophical or thinking frameworks and apply them in other arenas, swapping them out like lenses in a microscope. Incredible teacher.

But then, one day on Facebook, probably around 2005-ish, I got a friend request from a girl I went to high school with. She was one year older than me and played in the orchestra -- viola to my violin. And in one of her pictures, there was Tom! They were together together... WITH A BABY!

Consenting adults, yes. And you know I'll defend an age gap fic. But it hits different when it's someone you know in real life. And yes, he'd been her professor, too. And it made me start to wonder about all the encouragement and positive attention he paid me, y'know?

So, DB, how the fuck do you plan to bring this back to Philip Larkin and, eventually (we pray) Hannibal Rising?

Like this -- Philip Larkin wrote some of the best poetry I've ever read. He was also kinda gross. Case in point:

I read all the peritext of his collected poems (of course I did) which didn't give me much for context of his life, but I was fine going in cold. I read The North Ship without googling him, but then I reached a poem that made me wonder if he was gay. So of course I had to check. He was never married, but there was no mention in the few sources I checked about having relationships with men. He had relationships with women that seemed tumultuous and involved affairs etc. No judgment but as I kept reading his poems, I'd catch an odd bit here and there that was hitting me like... "Dude, I don't think this guy likes women. I think he's angry that he's attracted to them and can't control it, and he feels entitled to their attention." Basically, here and there these poems would pop up that screamed INCEL. I haven't done a ton of research to see if there are others who find some of his work misogynistic but that's my take. It kinda sucks because I'd be reading along and vibing so much and then BOOM I'd find lines or whole poems that just gave me the grossest feeling. Oh, and his dad was a Nazi supporter and he adopted some of his father's views later in life from what I understand, despite being an avid jazz fan and writing about and interacting with that community (jazz being invented by Black American musicians).

Examples of misogyny: In "Born Yesterday," Larkin wishes that his friend's new baby girl be ordinary. She'll be happier if she's not ugly nor beautiful nor exceptional. I think this concept pisses me off because it's partially true and it shouldn't be. I know for a fact that when I was a hundred pounds lighter people treated me better. I also had a strikingly beautiful friend in junior high who was preyed upon constantly from age 11 on. But I draw the line at wishing a baby girl to be free of talent and live an unexceptional life. Miss me with that shit. Do not deny her potential for female excellence.

In "The Life With a Hole In It" Larkin describes women chastising him for complaining about his life. "But you've always done what you want / You've always got your own way." Larkin tries to shut that down by describing his midlife crisis and suffering the grind of modern living. Considering when this was written, of course, women think he gets to do whatever he wants. Women were (and are) stuck in limited roles that involve physical and emotional UNPAID labor. To them, yeah, he does get to do whatever he wants. And he probably did. To the man I know who mopes around on the couch because his life didn't turn out the way he thought it would, lamenting his wild, lost youth and feeling trapped by the grind, boo-fucking-hoo. While you're feeling sorry for yourself, your wife is in the other room taking care of the kids, so cry me a river. Yeah... sorry, this is a bit personal.

"Deception" is just egregious. SA warning on that one. Empathizing with a rapist and daring to speak for a victim.

"Wild Oats" is the most incel "why don't women want nice guys" poem of the bunch.

The piece I think really captures the sickening lens through which some men view women is "Sunny Prestatyn," which describes a billboard for a seaside town in Wales with a beautiful woman in a suggestive dress kneeling on the sand by the water. Larkin describes how her image is defaced, a hole stabbed through her mouth, mustache drawn on, covered in graffiti, a cock and balls drawn between her thighs. He says, "She was too good for this world." Here's my read. This was the perfect woman, what men say they want, used to advertise for something, her body a decorative exemplar of misogyny. Flawless and beautiful and fun. And that wasn't enough. They had to degrade and destroy her, too. I feel like this is the experience of being a woman. You can spend all day, every day, making yourself look perfect, to be the ideal, to please those with the power, and it's a scam. Even if you achieve perfection, you still don't "win." You don't win respect or power. You don't get a seat at the table. You become a joke. You are defaced.

Maybe I'm missing some kind of irony here, but I really hate this poem.

...........

So... how do all of my insane ramblings fit together? I swear, I'm bringing it back around to the story of Tom. I do find it shocking and scandalous that my poetry teacher got my high school classmate pregnant, but it doesn't undo the good he did me. Never once did I get a vibe from him like he was being flirty. He was never inappropriate. He was a kind man and a good teacher. He also slept with a student and had a love child. Both of these things exist at the same time in my mind, and I'm okay with that. Maybe that means we should consider public figures the same way in our minds. I can be a Philip Larkin fan and also acknowledge that he was kind of a sonofabitch too. Guarantee there are people out there that I encounter on the daily that are like, "Yeah, I do love DB, but sometimes she's just way too much/intense/annoying/adhd." Because we are shades-of-gray real people. Even celebrities, even poets.

......

Philip Larkin died on December 2nd, 1985, the same day I turned two years old. He was an incredible poet.

His poems are, much like the axe piece, bleak. There's a lot of bitterness there, but also this clear and uncompromising lens that calls out the world's bullshit without flinching. I appreciate that, and I like it especially in The North Ship, because young people (including myself) often go through a "jaded" phase where they leave childhood and start to realize what a fucked up place the world is. While as a middle-aged lady, I do think it's funny when young folks write or behave like they're the first ones to figure this out, I also know that it's a powerful era of one's life, this disenchantment. And just because a young person feels something strongly does not give us the right to gaslight them. Remember that first breakup in 8th grade? It hurt so much because it was the first time it'd happened. As you age, you develop some comparable experiences and scar tissue. We can't tell kids to "get over it, nobody will remember who you dated in 8th grade." It hurts because it's the first time! They have nothing to compare it to. Gaslighting them just ensures they're never going to confide in you again.

But Philip never really leaves that jaded-youth-Catcher-in-the-Rye-everyone's-a-phony phase. The back of the book of Larkin's collected poems has a quote from Donald Hall of The New Criterion. It reads, "Larkin is resolute, forthright, witty, and gloomy. This is the man who famously said that deprivation was for him what daffodils were for Wordsworth. Yet surely the results of this life, in the shape of his poems, are gifts, not despirations."

They are gifts. Here are some of my favorites. I put the pictures in a folder on my computer called "He Gets It."

There is beauty in the gloom -- if you're a fannibal, you're well aware. And maybe I'm just a Midwestern mom who has survived many things through relentless optimism and Iowa Niceness, but all this wallowing Philip does in what he should have had or should have done, his status as a lonely outsider looking in, of calling the phonies on their shit, gets tiresome after 200 pages. This is his life's work, and the vibe throughout is just so... bitter and lonely. And while it was understandable at age 20, when you spin that thread from 1943-1974 it's like... dude.

But! At the very back of the book, after the four official collections, I found a section of unpublished or random poems that never made it into a curated grouping. To me, it says that in the end, Larkin understood what life was really about, a ray of empathy melting the snow of his bitterness.

The axe poem works so perfectly for kicking off Hannibal Rising (as I explained in a previous post), but I'm curious how much of Larkin's vibe will be evident in Harris' work, which, I'm also aware, is notoriously problematic as well. See kids, this is why you read the peritext. This is why we deep dive! Now I can read the rest of Hannibal Rising through the lens of "the guy who wrote this was a Philly Larkin fan -- does he see the world the same way, or was he just looking for a poem with an axe in it?"

How Would Hannigram Read Philip Larkin?

I think objectively, Hannibal would admit that the man has a way with words. I also think he would psychoanalyze Philip, and note that he feels entitled to the attentions of women and is bitter and angry about being rebuffed or not finding the relationships he sees everyone else having and thinks he wants or is due. Hannibal might note that Larkin's outsider status as a poet and thinker in the oppressive atmosphere of the midcentury also added to his jaded views. He would note that the man has a uniquely skillful way of expressing these experiences with words that trap the reader like barren winter branches. But Hannibal prefers to think of life as more multi-faceted; he doesn't fear death, and is free to enjoy all the art and beauty and horror the world has to offer.

Will would absolutely vibe with Larkin in many ways. I hate to think of my boy feeling angry towards women for not getting the attention he felt he was owed, for being cast into a "nice guy friend zone" or something, but when he was younger, that might've been the case. Will is an outsider, hovering on the fringes, his empathy making it uncomfortable to be too entrenched in society. Knowing everyone's intentions through the empathy pulse and understanding how selfish most people are makes him withdraw and, like Larkin, bitterly wonder what other people have that allows them to be seemingly happy. What's wrong with me that I can't have what they have?

Or, Will's able to read the normies like a library book and realize how phony and futile a normal life really is. A cookie-cutter existence to both disdain and long for. There's a sorrow in realizing you're not destined for a wife, 2.5 kids, and a picket fence. But from those ashes could rise something new in a phoenix-like blaze -- freedom. Knowing that you can pursue what really makes you happy and fulfilled without feeling like you're missing out on something that isn't all that great to begin with, or that you're not suited for. Accepting that one is "not normal" is a kind of grief, and has to be dealt with in stages. It's not something you get over, but as time goes on, it takes up less space.

Here are the most Hannigram Philip Larkin poems:

Who wants a spoiler for Melopmene's Sword?

The North Ship was published in 1945. Which means Will Graham, living in Paris in 1954, could have a copy on his bookshelf in the bedroom he shares with Hannibal.

If you made it to the end, I love you! I know this was LONG and rambly.

Love, DB

[somewhereincairparavel]

hiii congrats on 400 i love ur blog!!

i have a headcannon that jason takes architecture in new rome university to pursue his vision of rebuilding temple hill. can i request an architecture student!jason fic? maybe some engineering student!leo tossed in as well idk haha tysmmm! ~~♡

ೃ⁀➷ Screws and Ceramicsೃ⁀➷

author's note: I'm sorry this took so long!! I'm back on my writing spree finally!!

“The exterior facade of the Colosseum consists of four levels, with the bottom three levels composed of 80 arches each. Structurally speaking, the arches make possible the immense size of the structure-”

Jason adjusted his glasses as he was trying his hardest to copy his notes down, as quickly as possible, the professor was going kinda fast but Jason didn't blame him.

They have so much coursework for this semester. New Rome coursework for architecture students included the basics of Colosseum construction, Parthenon preservation and the surprising malleability of marble.

Currently Jason was learning the basics of Colosseum construction. It wasn't easy, but Jason was willing to give it his all, he even asked Annabeth for advice. His dream was to redesign temple hill, after he was done finishing the minor gods project. The only way he could get the permission to professionally redesign the structure of a long existing camp, was to get a degree to prove that he was worthy enough.

Romans do not play when it comes to buildings. Moreover, he didn't want anyone to call him a “nepo baby” and that he only got to design temple hill because he was Jupiter's son. Annabeth had already moved up levels of the architecture courses, and graduated with Percy. Jason was two years younger, by the time Annabeth had graduated, he was only then finishing highschool in California, so he still had a long way to go. Thankfully, Leo took engineering in NRU, so Jason had great company.

“Man, all these Romans do is yap yap and yap in cursive. They know nothing about how engineering works.” Leo babbled, complaining about his professor, who was a legacy of vulcan.

Jason scowled. “What are you implying, Leo? That we Romans know nothing about building stuff? That's the biggest stretch I've ever heard. They've built the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, the Domus Aurea, the Pantheon, Trajan's Column, Trajan's Market, the Catacombs, the Circus Maximus, the Baths of Caracalla, Castel Sant'Angelo, the Mausoleum of Augustus-”

“Woah woah calm down. I see you've clearly learnt all the names of those Roman buildings for your upcoming exam, thank me later for discreetly testing you. Looks like you really know your stuff dude. Romans are still mid engineers though” Leo winked. Jason stared at him bewildered. He hadn't even realized that he spit out all those Roman building names, he'd been up all night studying them.

“Iuppiter te perdat, valdez” (may Jupiter come at you, valdez) Jason muttered.

“Aww come on, don't go all Latin on me now, did you curse me out?” Leo questioned.

“maybe.”

“Well, whether you realize it or not, I seem to be the only one who somehow get you to apply whatever you've learnt in class dude. I mean, I've said like two sentences, and that's enough to get you to yap about Roman buildings and Latin curses” Leo laughed.

Well, he wasn't wrong.

“also you are only proving my point that Romans yap in cursive, I mean, have you seen yourself speak?” Jason gave him a pointed look.

“don't worry, it's cute.” Leo said, patting Jason's hair.

“Well, maybe i yap in cursive because I'm actually knowledgeable.” Jason replied, tersely smiling.

“a little too much of a big head but fair point.” Leo admitted.

“Anyways I'm starving. In honor of you insulting us Romans, Let's go eat some nice Roman food," Jason said, dragging Leo to the cafeteria.

“Leo, what's wrong?” Jason asked as he slipped inside Leo's dorm room. He hadn't heard from leo in a few hours now and he was getting worried.

Leo was scrambling anxiously, his hands seemed to be having minds of their own as his eyes darted around the room.

“I have like, 2 projects due tomorrow, and I swore to myself that I'd start on them early but I was having so much fun it totally slipped my mind-”

“Okay. Alright. First off, calm down. You still have like, 10 hours till your next class. You can still get it done by then, stressing out only prolongs your progress-”

“Give it a rest Dr. Phill” Jason rolled his eyes.

“I'm just trying to help”

“Well it isn't working, just letting you know, man”

“What's your project about? I'm no engineer, but maybe i could help with building the outer structure or solving machine equations to help make it work better-”

“Oh please yes. I need all the help I can get right now”

Jason smiled.

And so. The architect and engineer started their nerdy fiasco.

[anniesannex]

You’re so art deco

Chapter two

Description: you are a struggling college student who needs some cash. Your friend suggests a sugar daddy but you wouldn’t do that. Right?

I’m so sorry it took a bit to get up but here’s chapter two! Also sorry abt the 1975 reference I was listening to that song. -A

“WHAT?!” Grace’s jaw dropped as she heard the news. “But I thought you didn’t want a sugar daddy.”

“I was wrong. And I’m sorry.” You heard yet another ping from your laptop.

“Is that him?” Grace looked baffled as you nodded. “What did he say?” As you looked you had seemed to find a mirror selfie. Of Johnny wearing a nice button up shirt and some slacks.

“Goddamn.” You spoke.

“Goddamn is right!” Grace exclaimed. “What do I even do with this information.”

“Please don’t tell anyone I wanna keep this lowkey.” You pleaded with Grace.

“Okay but only because I love you.” Grace started to get ready for bed herself.

“I love you too I’m gonna send him a pic back do I look cute?” You asked as she laughed.

“Yeah, totally.” She smiled as you took the picture. This was probably the happiest she had seen you since you moved in.

“Thank you so much, you’re literally the best!” You were grinning as it sent. “But we should get ready for bed.”

“I know you might be a little wired with this new sugar daddy but I’m ready to go to bed.” Grace laughed.

“Goodnight Gracie.” You pulled the covers up onto your body. “I love you.”

“Night (y/n/n). I love you too.” Grace smiled as you began to shut your eyes and drift off into sleep.

Waking up you checked your computer.

@johnC95: good morning Doll. Hope you have a good day.

@Y/n: good morning Johnny. You too. Luckily I’m off today.

@johnC95: so where do you go to school?

@y/n: UCLA.

@johnC95: oh cool, I’m not that far from there. Would you wanna do like coffee?

@y/n: sure, when would you wanna meet up?

Your heart pounded in your chest. What were you going to wear? How were you going to do your hair? What if he didn’t like you when you guys met up?

@johnC95: I’m kind of booked for the next couple days. Is Saturday okay?

You look at the calendar. Saturday was three days away. You looked to see if you were working as you typed.

@y/n: lemme check my schedule. I should be good though.

As you doubled checked you sighed in relief

“Thank god.” you said to yourself. “I’m off on a Saturday, for once.”

@johnC95: sounds good! I wanna hear your voice again so bad.

@y/n: maybe we can talk later tonight. Btw what’s your number?

@johnC95: oh I’m sorry it’s (xxx)xxx-xxxx.

You type it into your phone putting it under the contact ‘Johnny <3’. As you text the number you feel a strange sensation in you stomach, like it was being tied into knots. Why was it that you were so nervous to text him?

You decide on a quick ‘Hi it’s y/n :).’

‘Hello doll :).’

You sighed as you start to get out of bed.

‘What are you doing today?’

‘I’m not sure I might lounge around my dorm, do some coursework, just try to relax’

‘Fair enough. I really do wanna hear your lovely voice. Or even see that beautiful face (y/n).’

‘Why don’t we talk right now? Even if it isn’t for long.’

‘I’m going to be with my daughter soon and I want to make sure she’s my first priority.’

‘You have a daughter? What’s her name? How old is she?’

‘Her name is Cassie and shes 16.’

‘Okay awesome!’

‘Sorry gtg she’s here!’

You wonder what she was like. You went to your closet pulling out a baby tee that said ‘reading is sexy’ and a pair of low rise jeans. Putting on socks you lace up your black converse. Then putting on music you decided to do your hair and makeup.

“This has to be a little over kill to just go study.” You laughed to yourself as you put on mascara.

“Bitchhhhhh.” Grace yelled as she entered your dorm. “Hot psych guy wasn’t in class today. I wanna cry.”

“I’m sorry dude.” You turned to her with a frown. “Wanna grab coffee with me before I have to go to the library?”

“Sure. The local one though. On campus. It has such better coffee.”

“Obviously, it’s a local coffee shop. They’re always better.” You laughed. “But let’s go.”

You grab your stuff not forgetting your phone and headphones. Grace opened the door back up.

“Nice shirt.” Grace winked as she held the door open.

“Thanks, my friend got it for me.” You winked back. Remembering when you and her got baby tees on the boardwalk. Laughing she led the way to the shop. You held the door open for her as you guys chatted.

“Dude would you love me if I was a worm?” Grace asked, cackling.

“Are you like a talking worm or a regular one?”

“What the fuck?!” She giggled. “A talking worm! It’s so funny, like ‘help (y/n) I got turned into a talking worm!’ That’s so crazy.”

“It’s a hypothetical in a hypothetical!” You chuckled as you guys got up to the counter.

“Iced coffee oatmilk?” grace asked.

“Dude I asked I can’t let you buy it. It’s on me this time.” You tried, knowing she wouldn’t let you.

“No seriously. Dude, I love you and you deserve this.” She smiled. “Two medium iced coffees with oat milk please.”

“Fine you win, but I’m paying next time.”

“Never going to happennnn!” Graced took out her card. “Thank you so much, have a great day.”

You guys sat down and waited for your coffee as you talked about the whole sugar daddy thing.

“I’m nervous to meet him.” You admitted. “Like what if he doesn’t like me?”

“He’s gonna fucking love you!” Grace exclaimed. “Are you kidding me! You’re literally the best!”

“You’re right. I’m being silly.”

“Oh our coffee is ready!” She ran to grab them “I’ll walk you to the library. It’s a sucky walk without a friend.”

“You’re right.” You agreed as you felt your phone buzz.

‘I think can’t wait to hear your voice again.’ You smiled as you type back.

‘That is really sweet. Thank you Johnny.’

‘Cassie is gonna go out with a friend tonight. Should I come up tonight?’

‘Sure.’

“SHIT!” You yelled. “Grace. We need to go back to the dorm.”

“What’s wrong (Y/n)?” she followed you as you took a break neck pace towards your dorm building. “Stop running!”

You only stopped briefly as you texted Johnny.

‘So what were you thinking?’

‘Maybe we do dinner. How’s Italian sound?’

‘Great what time were you thinking?’

‘How abt I pick you up @ 8?’

‘Perfect!’

“WHATS GOING ON?!” Grace yelled out of breath.

“It’s happening tonight.” You stared in awe.

“What?”

“ITS HAPPENING TONIGHT!”

“Oh-then lets go!” You both started running again. As you reached your dorm you both hastily got inside. “What are you thinking about wearing? Where is it? How long until he picks you up? “

“We’re doing Italian, he’s picking me up at eight and I have no fucking clue!”

“I have an idea how about that black and pink floral dress with kitten heels, my viviennes, that heart pendant and pink floral clutch?”

“You are literally a life saver! And how about a y2k claw clip half up-half down look for my hair?!”

“Let’s do this.” You laughed as Grace pulled out the outfit while you hopped into the shower. As you showered you thought about Johnny and that feeling came back. You cursed those damned butterflies as you calmed yourself down.

Making sure that you were properly cleaned you popped on some of the 1975.

“I like my men like I like my coffee, full of soy milk and so sweet, it won’t offend anybody.” You sang as you put your makeup on and danced around your bathroom.

“Dude I love that song!” Grace yelled out as she pulled you out of the bathroom.

“You’re lucky I was done.” You feigned a serious look. Before cracking up.

“I’m gonna help you get ready.” You stepped into the dress as she checked your messages with Johnny.

“He said ‘I can’t wait to see how gorgeous you look when I come pick you up, doll. And you sent me the right building?’’

“Text him back ‘awww Johnny, you’re too sweet. And yes I did.’”

“Okay and sent!” Grace watched as you put in the earrings. “Don’t forget the pink claw clip! It’ll match better!”

“Thank you grace!” You fixed up your hair and did final touches to your makeup.

“Wow, (y/n/n). If Johnny doesn’t like you, I’ll be your sugar daddy.”

“Gracie!”

You heard the buzzer to be buzzed into your dorm. Looking at your phone you saw his text.

‘I’m here.’

‘Okay buzzing you up!’ As you did so. Soon enough you heard a knock at your door. Letting him in you saw that he was even more gorgeous than on the screen. His perfectly quaffed hair was about to be in silver fox territory as he had evidence of smile lines beginning to form at his eyes. He was tall and muscular. As you could see from the curves of his suit.

“You look- wow.” He stared, face full of awe.

“Thank you Johnny. You look good too.” You smiled, catching a glance at what was in his hand. “What are those?”

“Oh-” his trance had been broken, as he held them out for you. “These are for you.”

“Thank you so much! They’re beautiful!” You took the bouquet.

[jamsandsuch]

it's been a minute since i've been online, midterms really kicked my ass. but what i do need to Rant About One Particular Thing that Thing being the prof that I've been assigned to TA for this semester who has been driving me up the wall!!!! Enjoy this bullet list of the various gripes i have

Dude does not respond to his emails; I regularly get students emailing me with urgent circumstances who say they have tried and failed to reach him meanwhile he responds to my emails promptly

Phone is his preferred form of contact for meetings and he also doesn’t confirm when said meetings will happen so he’ll just randomly call my phone

I have to run the review sessions w/ the entire class before their exams so I have to answer any questions they have by knowing all their content. This isn’t my specialization at all so I basically have to learn the course with them alongside writing my masters thesis and my masters coursework.

Also he is not present during these review sessions so I’m literally all alone and have nobody to support if I do not in fact know anything

Dude didn’t even have content prepared for all the review sessions; gave me previous TAs’ content so if it wasn’t for them I’d have literally nothing to work with???

I photocopied exams for a completely different course he teaches…? I made 100+ copies too do u not have TAs from that course to do that for u…?

Nitpicky but the assignments are far too short to be giving them a fair grade – wym they need to discuss a crime, define a theory, find a paper and discuss its data/findings/conclusions in 150 words???

[kickbutts-singsongs]

Y’all I’ve been sick with a cold for about four days now, and so I’ve been trying to rest and let myself recover. But being a college student, I still have important responsibilities and coursework that I can’t do right now, so to fill the time, I decided to do something that was not too taxing on me, but would still benefit me long-term

So anyway I just watched the entirety of Gravity Falls for the very first time and

holy?? fuck??????

I can see why people are Not Normal about this show lmao I mean the concept? the characters?? the storylines????? the Lore???????????

B I L L ???!!????!!!?!!!

Yeah watching this as a nineteen year old was truly a great experience omg it was funny yet dark and had some emotional moments that I wasn’t expecting that I definitely didn’t cry at or anything and I got really attached to the characters 🥺🥺🥺

(Soos, my boy, they could never make me hate you, not even in that one episode where you did everything wrong lmao; also the ‘sorry dudes I just killed that fairy’ audio was HIM???? was not expecting that)

Anyway yeah dang the show was also actually like kinda intense? The twins were always in situations where they easily could’ve died but it’s a kids show so I had to like chill out a bit lmao but holy shit the ending was so??? my mouth was completely dropped like all throughout the four-part finale like?????

Bill Cipher is definitely an R-rated character that is trapped within the confines of a tv-y7 universe

But yeah I had tons of fun!!!

I’m pretty sure that if nine-year-old me had watched this back in 2014, she would’ve had a) nightmares, and b) a gigantic crush on Dipper

[desceros]

hi sam!! kind of a different request, but would you list as many of your favorite orchestral pieces as you can? association with turtles v welcome but also optional! i have trouble doing my coursework because i can't listen to anything in the background while doing it (shows, music with lyrics), but i listened to scheherazade because of you and really loved it, plus got some work done to boot!! i'm not sure where to start in looking for more music like that so i thought i'd ask you. :)

oohhhh what a FUN ask, thank you so much!! i promise i am going to TRY to be REASONABLE with how much i talk about this. if i really did mention "as many as i could" i think i'd find out if tumblr has a character limit in text posts, hahaha!

so my favorite symphony of ALL TIME is symphony 9 by dvorak. absolute must-listen. my favorite moment of the entire piece (which you HAVE to listen to the entire thing to get REALLY feral about) is the last huge chord progression in the fourth movement that takes the db major brass chords from the second movement and puts it to the BOMBASTIC TYMPANI EB MINOR EXTRAVAGANZA from the first movement and makes me want to CHEW THROUGH BEDROCK, RAHHH

aside from that, here are a few that i love a lot and totes recommend:

all of scheherezade is, of course, absolutely stunning. it's one of my favorite pieces of all time. if you haven't listened to the other movements, i highly recommend! in this same vein is you liked that are pieces like the stepps by borodin, the polovstian dances (also borodin), marche slav by tchaikovsky, and to some extent saint-saens piano concerto no. 5 has some similar themes, particularly in the absolutely DELICIOUS second movement. it's called "orientalism" and while the, uh, intent has a history of. to say generously. problematic undertones. the pieces themselves are lovely.

russian easter overture by rimsky korsakov. i played this one in high school and man. it's just so FUN and PRETTY.

symphonie fantastique by hector berlioz. it's the story of this dude having a really bad acid trip. no i'm not kidding. also the fifth movement has the dies irie in my favorite iteration ever. eat your heart out, mozart.

...actually just literally anything by tchaikovsky. gun to my head, i'd say he's my favorite classical composer. i'm partial to his ballet work because that's what i played a lot of personally, but his overtures and concertos are quite fun. his romeo and juliet overture is extremely famous (though i personally vastly prefer the opening part over the latter, more famous part). every violinist you ever meet will be traumatized by him, though. so do be careful.

speaking of concertos: my favorite (ugh. i'm a traitor) is probably the barber violin concerto. it just has this. cinematic vibe to it that makes me think of something magical.

(....though the elgar cello concerto and the grieg piano concerto may have something to say about this.)

the planets suite by holst is very fun. you've probably heard mars, and you may recall the romance theme from jupiter if you've seen the movie braveheart. it's one of those mainstream pieces most people have heard. my particular favorite movement is uranus. it's so bouncy and fun!!! classical headbanger music here

beethoven is quite fun to listen to. for his orchestral work, i'm partial to symphony no. 5 since that was the first one i played and the drama of it is enthralling. (yes. i think it's better than nine. sue me.). that said, between you and me, i like the egmont overture better than his symphonies. that low open c on the viola is just so god damned juicy—[door bangs open] OH NO. IT'S THE PRETENTIOUS POLICE. THEY FOUND ME

i'll stop there. these are a few symphonic pieces, since you asked for those specifically. i also really love chamber music (which is just the strings section, sans the woodwinds/brass/percussion/etc), but i find those amazing to listen to as well! anywho i hope you enjoy some slash all of these and good luck with your studies!!

[irlpkmnprofintraining]

Waz zup! You ever gotten to see a kantonian ratatta up close? They’re purple dude! Like wow! The ratattas around here in Alola are so monotone in comparison am I right?

Yo!!!!! I have seen a few actually! The first time I saw one was when a tourist came in and was battling a neighbor when I was a kid. I was so baffled and asked the guy if his poor buddy was sick!!

Love getting to see regional differences in pokemon in my coursework!

Even if Buck is only black, i think he's a wicked little dude and stands out enough. He's got a little mustache after all!

[discogirlsclub]

i cant send u the link but but but theres this one post on @/official-boob-posts about being able to deep throat a boob. what the fuck. how did i not know about this.

also, i spent about two hours that i should have been using for coursework scrolling through the sexual excitement wikipedia page with my friend and irs so fucking funny. i have never giggled more. what do u mean “the balls ascend” are they like ????? becoming a god ??? what is happening.

on another note entirely, i had a dream that i was like 45 and in a passionate love affair with shoko and man. she can get it bro. like WOW. and then i woke up and had to go to litcomp :( sad times when a girl can’t even finish up her wet dream about a fictional woman smh

anyways i love u baby kiss kiss kiss

-🪲anon

DEEP THROAT A BOOB? how the fuck is this. i want to deep throat a boob

dude i dont think ive had a dream about any of the jjk favs yet. i THINK. ive been forgetting my dreams lately but they go crazy sometimes let me share in a post hold up

i love u so much im coming over to kkiss you

[spacesymbol]

anyways HI. its been uhh... two weeks since last post but about a month since any actual life updates. so im gonna do... that!

gonna split this one into tumblr specific updates and personal updates since i figure the latter is a little less important to some people. not trying to sound mean there, i get the feeling!

anyways, tumblr specific updates!

the big update is that i completely revamped my carrd. theres a lot more text now, and the layout doesnt look as good on mobile as it does on desktop, but i still like how it looks a lot better than the previous version.

i also added a new tag to my pinned. the tag is just this 📁 emoji, and its sort of a catchall tag for posts about media that i like. since i got rid of alter tags a while ago and i dont really like tagging specific franchises, i figured this works better for now.

my pinned post was also updated to reflect this change, and theres even a new tag guide/explanation!

okay now for the more personal life related updates. theres a LOT you have been warned!

where did i last leave off... right, the delaware trip! okay well i say that as if a lot happened on that trip. which is incorrect.

the only real big thing about the delaware trip was that i was kind of suffering for the whole trip since i had just been put back on adhd medication, and the dosage was WAY too high so my body did not adjust well at all and i was having like horrific symptoms for the whole week. and i wish i could truthfully say that the dosage of that medication is sorted out now but i cant!!!! 🥲

in the four days between the end of the delaware trip and the first day of school i went to a friends belated birthday party... which was the only time i hung out with any of my friends for the entire summer actually. but the party was still fun...!!

the rest of the updates are gonna be school related. since the next significant thing after that party was the first day of senior year.

my classes have all been manageable so far. i think the stress is definitely going to pile up soon with college application deadlines swiftly approaching, but the impending reality of that hasnt really set in yet. it is definitely nice to be taking classes i genuinely enjoy this year, even if the coursework is difficult!

i dont remember how much ive talked about my social standing at school on here but tldr it sucks. i dont have any genuinely close friends or a dedicated friend group that enjoys my presence at all. something something the we should call fiona interview quote... thats basically described my social situation for the past several months.

in terms of theater. hoo boy. well you see, our drama teacher (and shows producer) is on maternity leave. and not only did she switch the order of plays and musicals again (the fall show is a play this year), but she chose two plays for us to do this fall.

basically both shows are one act plays with no real lead roles since the scenes arent connected at all. performances will go like: show one, intermission, show two. and the "no lead roles" thing would be great except for the fact that this is one of my two senior theater productions with this school and i would like the chance to earn bigger roles, you know?

anyways auditions came and went and the cast list was released last thursday. and you will never guess who one of my romantic scene partners is. well. its my ex 😁👍

i mean besides the fact that i have to pretend to swoon over my ex, im really happy with my roles. i got double cast in one of the plays as opposed to one role in each play, and i like the play i got double cast in a lot better. and i only auditioned with two scenes from that play, and got cast in both of those scenes that i auditioned with, so i assume the director really liked my auditions?

also one of the scenes im in (not the one with my ex) is fully just an internalized homophobia turned "dude i think i love you" scene and its just SUCH a good scene. i really like my scenes and characters, i am just rightfully worried about rehearsing a romantic scene with my ex for two months...! but it will be fine. probably

okay this is getting REALLY long but uhhh general not-life-related updates.

undertale day!!! we split a chara less than 24 hours after the newsletter dropped 👍

my cats fifth birthday was last wednesday!!!!!! i could write a whole essay about how much this tiny beast means to me but just know i love her lots okay?

okay. okay. i THINK thats everything i have to say. uhh this is the part of the post where i talk about future tumblr updates and status.

idk. idk!!!!!!!!! the stress and busyness of senior year is kind of starting to get to me a bit so i might just disappear for a few months. or maybe ill continue updates every couple of weeks or every month.

i definitely want to return to posting here as regularly as i used to, but i always either avoid it for some reason or have other things i need to be doing instead. so whos to say how active ill be! i definitely dont know!

[devilh0rnsinc]

Find your 3 oldest WIPS. Then list for each:

The inspiration- Why it's still a WIP- Will you finish- Why or why not-

Try not to mean to yourself!

Oh gosh.

First of all ty for the ask!

Secondly, I have to really dig deep into my folder here. The earliest I could find was from 2017... Jesus.

Project Psychology - AgedUp!Peanuts Fic, Peppermint Patty and Lucy 😭

Written in 2020, Lucy asks PP to come over and help her with her coursework. That's it end tweet.

Inspo - Have no idea, however, I think I mentioned it in another AgedUp!Peanuts fanfic that Lucy was studying psychology. She invites Patty round to ask her a few questions about sexual preference and gender identity... That's literally it lol.

Why is it a WIP - Idk dude, probs cause I forgot about the fic, and the premise didn't interest me enough

Will I finish - Not sure, haven't read it in a long time. But I don't think so.

Why not - Not in the fandom too much anymore, and I have other pieces I'd like to write.

2. Demons Rule This Camp - an OC fanfic???

THIS WAS WRITTEN IN 2017 WTF (Brief synopsis: two characters Kayla and Lennox are at a summer camp, and demons infiltrate and try to get them to leave, however, they use the humans to their advantage... What the hell)

Inspo - No joke, a Minecraft chat room. What the hell.

Why is it a WIP - I think I just forgot.

Will I finish - Absolutely not.

Why not - I have another demon that I'd like to write about. However, it is funny that even back then I loved to write about that sort of thing.

3. Rain Rain Go Away - AgedUp!Peanuts fic PP / Marcie

I think this was made in 2020 too, but I'm not sure. Marcie and PP are late for a quiz, lol. It begins to rain hard so they take shelter under a park slide. Patty finds in Marcie's notebook a poem about her, and they confess their love yadayadayada...

Inspo - Aww. This one was based off of Vince Guaraldi's piece, Rain Rain Go Away. It's beautiful if you haven't heard it.

Why is it a WIP - I literally just didn't finish the ending! I think It could probably stand on its own though.

Will I finish - Mmmm probs not, my writing style is so different now.

Why not - I'm not really vibing with the entire plot, but the idea of the rain is cool. I'll just leave it in the drafts for now.

And there we go! Jesus, I just went through the 5 stages of grief reading those. Thank you for the ask. I know you were probs expecting some Bob's ones however, all the Bob's fics I've written have been posted!! Except for one teehee. <3