#i miss being able to write

[katie-the-angel-witch]

Getting a depression spiral at work because I feel and am observably one of the thousands of inconvenient useless trannies to be thrown away at the first opportunity fucking sucks.

[anthosaidsmth]

House obsession is getting out of hand, had a dream about reading a Hilson fanfic where Wilson is abusive for some reason, it was a multi chapter coherent fic too. I need a lobotomy

[desperatepleasures]

oh nooooo just got hit by the Inadequacies!!!

[lumilasi]

I've managed to write another story forward a bit today (Reclaimed); given how badly unmotivated I've been, it feels like an achievement lol

....didn't manage to actually finish the chapter to be fair, but hopefully I will this week. Maybe I'll manage to forward the next chapter for HoG as well if I'm lucky. I did already start it a lil bit after all

[tmngoose]

Me, casually hoping that watching the Rise movie will revitalize my writing abilities because this brain fog is thiccccccccc 🥺

[soullesscircuits]

I think maybe I will scrap both of my wips and never write again ♡

[den-dumm]

i miss writing movie reviews. i used to do that all the time back in my early blogging days (not on tumblr) and i feel like i should return to it.

[unicorinspace]

I want to write Naruto things with my ocs but writing hard…

[firefrightfic]

to anyone missing my writing please know i am also missing my writing

[whump-in-the-closet]

oh no! the fantasy character with dark hair and scarred facial features is actually about to be taken prisoner and tortured!! again!!

[calamitoustide]

June 1st: Stitches | jegulus | @taylorswiftmicrofic |wc 606 | cw: blood

“Quit being a baby.” 

James rolls his eyes, “You’re the one who can’t even look at my hand.” 

Regulus glances down only to grimace at the sight of the blood, even with a cloth wrapped around it. It was a stupid accident really. Regulus had to spend the entire time at his parents' house packing up all their old things in boxes and figuring out what to do with old antiques neither he nor Sirius would ever want. Emotionally the act of it wasn’t draining, but being in that house again certainly was. James wanted to go with him but Regulus declined, it was just going to be him and Sirius, and James respected that. He wanted to make dinner for him to come home to instead, one of his mum’s recipes. He called her that morning and everything making sure every detail of it would be right… and then well… It was already getting late and Regulus was going to be home soon so he was trying to rush. Then the blood spilled all over the cutting board and James couldn’t even register the pain of it all before Regulus was walking in. 

That’s how they got to now. 

“I don’t like blood,” Regulus mutters, even saying that he still lifts the bandage to take a look at the damage again. 

James just laughs at him, “Weren’t you pre-med?” 

Regulus sends him a pointed look, “Shut up.” 

“I’m just saying how did you expect to actually pass if you can’t stand the sight of a little blood?” James teases. 

Regulus shakes his head, “Do you want me to just finish the job and rip your finger off?” 

James reaches forward with his other hand so grab at his cheek, “You love me.” 

Regulus pushes him away, “You bug me.” 

James hums, overtaken by the concern on Regulus’ face as he looks back at the wound. He finds his thumb trying to push away the worried crease between his eyebrows. Regulus doesn’t slap his hand away, he lets him drag it down to his cheek. Regulus doesn’t look up at him again and he pauses, “What is it?” 

Regulus sighs, “You cut yourself,” he says, but it comes out more like a whine. Regulus will never admit it to anyone but he’s always the first one to coddle James. More so than James coddles Regulus which is actually a hard thing to accomplish. He’s always been the softer one between the two of them. He kisses James’ old scars and watches him with big wide eyes when he speaks. James wants to hug him. He wants to place kisses all over his face until he melts in his hand. 

“Yeah,” James laughs shortly, “I got that much.” 

Regulus doesn’t laugh along with him, “You’re gonna need stitches, James.” 

James scoffs, “It doesn’t even hurt!” 

Regulus looks up at him, pausing for a prolonged moment. As the moment goes on there’s a sharp stinging in James’ hand, almost like a buzzing in his ear he’d forgotten the sound of. It starts off small until it overwhelms him—it’s everywhere. 

“It just started hurting, didn’t it?” 

James bites his tongue, not knowing if he can speak without his voice straining, “Uh-huh.” 

Regulus laughs softly, “Come on,” he places his hand on his lower back as he guides him to the front door. 

James pouts, “You’re so mean to me.” 

Regulus rolls his eyes, “I’ll buy you a toy after.” 

James shakes his head as Regulus opens the passenger side door for him, “I want ice cream.” 

Regulus sighs softly, “Then you’ll get ice cream, now get in the car.” 

[chryblossomjjk]

just found out that jungkook interacts with people who aren’t me

[clxckwork-sun-n-moon]

PLEASE. PLEASE I NEED ECLIPSE TO CARVE A PUMPKIN IDC HOW IT HAPPENS JUST GET THEM A PUMPKIN PLEASE

Pumpkins - 969 words

“I need your biggest pumpkin.”

The pumpkin seller gave you the flat look of a woman who had been told the same statement at least five times before you’d shown up and she fully expected to keep hearing the same thing after you left. Letting out a long sigh, she gestured to the broad spread of pumpkin patch ahead of you.

“It’s self-service, you take what you can find,” she intoned. “Have a spooky blast finding your perfect pumpkin. The weighing scales are up by the entrance, we do not provide trolleys to transport from the harvest patch to your vehicle.”

“That’s okay, we came on foot! And we have plenty of hands.” 

Her eyes went from you to the dog by your side, unassuming. And then her gaze tracked slowly up and up behind you, and garnered that expression of surprise you were quickly getting used to. Even after putting him in your biggest hoodie, thick overcoat, and wrangling an extra long pair of cargos from an online shopping site, he still caught eyes wherever he went with you.

“He’s shy,” you said quietly as Sun raised a hand and waved. The seller waved back, stepping aside for the three of you to shuffle onto the pumpkin patch proper. 

It took about an hour for the three of you to find four good pumpkins. Sun was extremely excited for this, and you let him go running off freely to find his own personal pumpkin. Moon had already talked to you the night before about what sort of pumpkin he wanted, and you obliged to his wants, picking out a smaller one that easily fit into both of your hands. Montague would hop across the trails, sniffing around the pumpkins for any possible smell of rot, but otherwise keeping his distance - you two would share, as was the easiest way when one friend didn’t have opposable thumbs.

But you also had another to pick a pumpkin out for, and Eclipse specifically had asked to be surprised. Easy enough to do, since this was his first Halloween and not only was he excited but they had been decorating after finding your old stash from three years ago. 

It was nice, being genuinely excited about this holiday for the first time in a while.

Montague’s low whuff caught your attention. Hurrying around the end of one of the plots, you saw what he’d found and the glee in your chest warmed up into a bright grin.

“Oh. Oh yes,” you said softly. “He’s going to love this one.”

-

Three hours later, involving having Sun carry all your goods back to the train station, wobbling your quad bike back to the cabin, and an obscene amount of pumpkin disembowelment: it was time. 

“So, what did you guys carve?” You leaned over to glance at Sun and Eclipse’s pumpkins, sat proudly hollow on the newspaper-covered table. You’d done this outdoors just in case, but you didn’t know the extent of the splattering that would occur (and since you were going to be cleaning juice out of your hair tonight, the preparations had been underwhelming).

“I did a crescent moon!” Sun said proudly. “I don’t think the clouds were that good, I kept breaking pieces off.”

“Hey, it’s good for your first attempt.” Sure the moon was a bit wonky and, yes, bits of the clouds were more jagged than smooth. But you hadn’t expected masterpieces anyway, so the fact it was recognisable was all good.

“Is that a moon on your’s too?” Sun asked, leaning his head over to peek.

“Full moon! And a werewolf, kind of.”

“I modelled,” Montague chimed in from below, his tail thudding on the dirt ground at an ever increasing rate.

“And what about you?” You turned now to Eclipse, still licking bits of pumpkin scraps and juice from his claws. Smacking their feathery lips, they crouched down fully to grin alongside the pumpkin.

“Me,” they chirped. Sure enough, there were two pairs of eyes and a very wide, very jagged grin stretching right across the pumpkin that was at least twice the size of his head. Lots of surface area to work on, and they’d shredded most of it as snack food.

Laughing softly, you ruffled through Eclipse’s feather ruff, his head nuzzling hard into your hand as he hummed and they purred and you half expected them to bowl you over in their enthusiasm.

“Okay, okay. Help me clean up the insides, this will make at least a week’s worth of curry, maybe some muffins too,” you said, gesturing to the plastic bowls dotted around. You’d made sure to rig a few bowls with bucket handles for Montague to lift through too, but after carrying everything inside, you need to box it all for refrigeration. Thankfully many hands made light work, and you had many hands to help you out. 

An hour in and Moon was out, and the pair of you ducked outside with Moon’s pumpkin in his hands. Fireflies began to flit around the edge of the clearing as he carved away, with you sharing stories of the day and him sharing stories of Halloween at the Pizzaplex. No peace was yet left, as eventually Eclipse came bounding after you, full of energy and pumpkin seeds and intent on peppering you with the latter. Dew soaked into your jumper but nothing would drown the mood as the pair of you rolled over on the grass, Montague sitting next to Moon and the pair exchanging a quiet look. 

Soon, four pumpkins sat in the window of your cabin, while four figures bustled around your kitchen in the constant process of boxing and weighing crushed pumpkins and seeds. One a werewolf, one a demon, one a moon, and one a lonely blackbird in a night sky.

[spctrsgf]

the attack

summary: marc was no stranger to a rough fight. but what happens when one fight is a bit too much?

word count: 1.4k

warnings: language, descriptions of blood/wounds/death, marc has a panic attack, angstier than i wanted tbh but

a/n: this was supposed to be fluffy but it turned out so dark i'm sorry idk what happened

another a/n: i want to note that everyone's panic attacks look different, and i tried to factor in what ive seen from moon knight and my own experience with panic attacks to write marc's

He had to get home.

He had to get home, and fast.

His hand came to rest on the bricks of a building beside him as he heaved in a breath, instantly regretting it as sharp pain sliced across his abdomen. With bleary eyes, he looked up to meet the window of a car that held Steven. “Mate, you’re not looking great–” Marc waved him off. “I’m fine, Steven. I just have to-” he shoved himself off the wall with a grunt of effort. “Get home.”

“Please just call y/n.”

“No,” Marc huffed, his patience and energy to argue with Steven wearing painfully thin. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” Jake snorted from a window to his right. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Fuck off, both of you.”

“Please, Marc-“ Steven tried to placate.

“I can do this by myself.”

“I’m not sure that's a good-”

“Steven!” Marc yelled, exasperated and tired. “Stop.”

The man’s only response was to duck his head with a solemn glare.

“Spector—“ 

The said man whirled on the window. “You too, Jake.”

Jake went to say more, but instead decided to put his tongue back in his mouth and prepare to take control instead.

Marc’s jaw clenched in short victory, and he moved his focus to walking. Only two more buildings. He told himself. His eyes darted every which way in a sort of frantic habit, shoulders tense in his vulnerability. Shoulders tense in the knowledge that if he were to be attacked right now, he wouldn’t make it out alive.

Deep down, he knows that Steven is right. He should call you. He’s aware that you won’t judge his strained words, won’t do anything but get to him as fast as possible. You’ll leave the engine running in your beat up Honda, dash over to where he’d since crumpled onto the ground, toss his arm over your shoulder and haul him into the car and then to your shared apartment, careful to avoid his bloody limbs from touching anything. You’ll patch him up and put him back on his feet, just like you always do.

But– something holds him back tonight. Maybe it’s the blood from the cut that seems to be too deep, something that the suit should have protected him from. Maybe it’s Khonsu’s lying words that ‘it’ll be a quick one tonight, worm.’ Maybe it’s the fact that he let the man’s words get to him, let them crawl under his skin and make a permanent home in his brain. 

Marc Ssspector.

He shook his head, trying to stop the memories before they started.

I heard about your childhood. Tragic, really.

He was nearly there now, maybe a building or two away.

Your brother’s death must’ve cut you deep, knowing that it was your fault. 

He swallowed down his panic.

And then what? Your brother dead, your mother abusive, your father nothing but a shell of a man.

His hands started to shake. Not good, not good, he told himself, he cannot be having a panic attack right now.

No wonder Khonsu wanted you. How easy it must’ve been to take a trainwreck like you in, to make you do all of his dirty work. 

Marc’s breaths became labored as he tried to shove down his pain, both wound and the sharp ended words.

But did Khonsu ever really want you at all?

Marc’s eyes fell to his feet in frustration and in shame. 

Did Layla ever really want you at all?

All he had to do was move his right foot up and forward. Why was it so hard?

Did y/n ever want you at all?

His vision swam with tears as he let them fall down his face, angry and sad and panicked. 

Does anyone ever really want you at all?

He fell to his knees, letting out a yelp of pain.

It was at this moment he realized he might be dying.

He’d done it twice, and he could do it again. It seemed probable. At the moment, being free of his mind and his pain was sounding increasingly appealing. No more guilt, no more trauma, no more Khonsu, no more people taking his heart and shattering it on the floor. 

But as he feels his head go light and his vision rim with white, the only thing he can think of is you. You and your bright smile and perfect eyes and the way you got him, the way you were always there for him and his alters. Steven and Jake too met the front of his mind as he thanked whatever was out there that brought him such amazing people to surround himself with. 

– ✮ –

When Marc came to, he wasn’t in that boat he’d been on with Steven nor was he met with the dirty ground of the street outside his apartment building. No, he was in a bed, his bed. Which meant he was home, in his house. Which meant–

You came strolling in then, and he drank up the sight of you like a man who’d been starved of water. You were wearing one of your typical comfy Saturday outfits, when you’d sit on the couch and write or doodle while he watched some sport lazily, your head on his shoulder and his heart in your hands. Your eyes met his, and they all but softened as he watched you recognize that it was him. You were by his side in a second, holding him down by his shoulders as he tried to sit up. “Don’t do that, Marc, you’re still healing.”

The events hit him like a truck. Being hurt, the man, Steven telling him to call you, the attack, blacking out.

“How am I alive right now?” Was the only thing he could get out of his mouth as you sighed. “From what I know, Jake took over and called me. I managed to get you to the hospital because I didn’t think I’d be able to patch you up,” you sucked in a breath harshly, and Marc’s hand met yours with a squeeze of support, of sorry. “I was so scared, Marc. There was so much blood and even Jake was barely managing to get his words out–”

“Hey,” He winced, but still moved his hand to cup your jaw and grab your gaze. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

You snorted. “Shoulda thought about that before you tried to walk home while bleeding out of your fucking abdomen.”

“I thought I could get home.”

“Yeah, good going on—“ you stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath and recentering your mindset. “I’m sorry, Marc. I’ve just been worried about you and everything that happened, and I couldn’t do anything about your wound and sitting in that waiting room— which felt like an asylum with how white it was— for what felt like years for the doctors to help you was the most anxiety inducing thing I’ve ever experienced. But it’s okay, you’re fine, I’m fine, everything is gonna be fine.”

Marc’s thumb brushed tenderly across your cheekbone to catch fallen tears, brows knit in worry. “You’re right, I’m here.”

“Please,” your voice was a whisper as you lent into his hand. “Please never do that to me again.”

“I won’t.”

“Please, I know it's hard to ask for help. I know real well from experience that it’s hard. But it’s worth it. It’s worth it not to watch you attached to whatever the fuck they put you on in the hospital, not to collapse onto the ground a block away in excruciating pain. Right?”

“Right.” Marc nodded.

“I love you.” You said those words as if you could lift any of his worries and insecurities and carry them into the sky above.

“I love you too.” His hand slid to cup the back of your neck, pulling you down to meet his smiling lips.

[akiirart]

you

[sciderman]

How do you feel about the increase in really weird NSFW ads on here (advertising panels that look like sexual encounters, and AI art apps that pride themselves on porn) but will take down NSFW posts from their users, even if it isn't technically sexual.

i hate all social media and it's consistent prioritising the advertisers over the users and the internet simply was a better place before capitalism sunk its hooks into it