#im tortured by melancholic loving thoughts

[dapper-lil-arts]

It's never too late to love, it's never too late to live.

[s-omething]

today is january 10 in 2023 and i thought i’d be happy by now.  that i’d feel at home and alive. turns out “home” just feels like some kind of extention of myself: if i’m good, it is good. if i’m not okay, it rots with me.  it isn’t filled with friends, laughs, cries, conversations, connections. no one comes, i sit in silence most of the time, looking at nothing. i have been distant, but at some point i make all efforts i could of reaching out and i guess my heart broke, i dont think friends want anything to do with me tbh.  i cant stop my mind racing on what i might have done wrong, i came up with too many answers without proof.  i thought i’d be less lonely, not more. i believed my dogs would be happier, now it just seems like i ruined their lives with my melancholy.  i buy the food i like but i still dont feel like eating it. i still drink myself to sleep sometimes, and sometimes drinking doesn’t do it either, the anxiety stays there, turns into anger.  i don’t have fun.  i am writing this today because i’m supposed to be learning to read my feelings, understand and accept them and work on communicating them, honestly it just feels like im getting it all wrong ‘cause i take too long to make it make sense and the answer is that im making drama out of small things.  i dont understand that, considering i soothe myself, do not show much emotion, control what comes out and swallow the most of it when i need to talk about it. i try to be practical and direct so they wont have a negative reaction or judgement out of it.  i think im bending to melancholic loneliness again and it’s terrifying. i have to be careful if i get sad because if it wins over me i might not get out of bed or eat or clean, work, pay bills, take my dogs for enough walks and just end up failing.  im not supposed to fail, im supposed to be happy, im home with my dogs and i am free.  am i cursed? why isnt it working? its already been 2 months, i was supposed to be okay. cooking isn’t fun anymore, i just drag myself to do it so i dont starve or get sick. while i cook i just resent myself in the fact that i will have to actually eat it later. it makes me anxious. i dont want to cook anymore.  turns out food will rot if you dont eat it, and i hate wasting food, it makes me anxious as well.  i made everything look the best i could, decorating as id like and now i absolutely hate it, to the point i avoid looking at details too long.  i have this urge to make things disappear if im not using them, it feels like too much, like they are not only standing there in the house, but standing inside my brain occupying space i don’t have. it doesn’t take too long, if i haven’t used something in a week, it starts to haunt me.  it’s been 6 hours. i finally had some bread, i had to, i could not open the bottle because of my weak ass hands.  i should cook real food, i know that, i can’t stop thinking about it.  there’s one meal left in the fridge and then im out, no meal. but i should have eaten it yesterday, its diner time today and i still couldn’t.  being honest here, i dont miss the way things were at all, i absolutely hated it and it was hell. i do miss my friends, i miss having people around, i miss having hope and plans. i daydreamed about what future would look like, now im in that future and everything is real but turns out im still me. maybe ill just never be okay.  it’s not that im not satisfied with my accomplishments, its not its just i got here, yay.. now what? i dont want anything, thinking of wanting something makes me anxious, i dont... want to want anything.  see, if i wanted all of this and i got it and im still a sad piece of shit, what’s the point? contini tastes like my 19th birthday. i drink it and feel the exact same feeling from that april 14th in 2018. i dont want anything from the future, i dont know how to accept help cause it honestly feels like torture, i love my friends but im certain i already lost them, i only listen to one song per day, repetely  thinking of changing into something else, listening to various songs or anything like that makes me want to rip out my skin on overwhelm. should i go back to anti depressants? i hate them, i hate being numb, i hate that they don’t make me happy or sad or angry or anything but empty. i absolutely will not do without orgams.  i kinda wish someone would beat me up so i could focus on something real and not stupid feelings that are just inside my brain yet having the power to paralyze me. i just need to cook some fucking food. maybe you can’t have friends correctly if you have depression, maybe i should just cook tomorrow. 

[xo8ball]

long vent post about sad things! read with caution ♥️

theres something very melancholic about almost being a lost case as a kid, almost becoming a young ghost, and getting to live some more years and realizing, shit, it wont even end here.

its torturous to think i used to believe i'd never get to 16, and being 16 today and in four months i'll be 17 and in 2025 i'll be 18 and then 19 and then 20 and so on forth. its sad, i almost stopped breathing when my lungs just were born.

talking about a very supposed depression i had (that i strongly believe i had, since symptoms and so) and all its factors, my mother confessed to me she cried out of desperation for me, she didnt know what to do. i said the same, i said the same.

its really hard to tell your mom you almost died at 10 by your own hands. its killing me inside, everytime i tell her that i almost didn't get to cook my first meal or get into high school.

and im tearing up while doing this, while writing this heart-wrenching (to me) symphony of words on this app. why do i even reveal such deep experiences online, maybe its because this was my first escape from reality and i didnt die because i had too many stories to write.

my relationship with crying is weird too, i hate crying, and i love when i finally do. i used to cry every night to the thought that i wasnt loved, i wasnt fat enough, i wasnt eating well, i wasnt pretty enough, i wasnt talented enough, that i wasnt myself and would never become myself ever, that i would die before becoming whoever else than what i was. teenage years came and i started hating crying, because it made me weak, a faggot, a failed man, boys never cry. they dont cry. being called maricón over intensely cries due to fear by your only masculine figure in your house makes you a beast, a monster. i hated tears since then, i hated crying, so i bottled everything. its a behavior i still cant quit, but im now being more honest. i still hate crying, but i love releasing, crying over nothing, being genuine to my feelings and my wet and dumb tearducts. though i hate being seen, makes me too vulnerable, i hate talking with a sad knot in the throat, i cant formulate thoughts. so i still bottle until im comfortably alone. or just vent about it, like i did when i was 10.

all my problems now seem insignificant, because i survived being 10, mentally ill, undiagnosed, weird, lonely, suicidal, groomed, sexually assaulted, left behind, hated, and got to the age i never thought i'd get to. all my problems now seem small, because i survived a nightmarish age.

god, the amount of times i thought "what would everyone do when they find me dead?" compared to my now thinking of "what will everyone do while i'm alive? what can i do while i'm still here?"

because i want to do and be everything, everywhere, everytime.

[lavender-at-heart]

Hi! Congrats on starting this blog! Can I make a request? I would like to ask for some headcanons about being best friends with Helen. If possible, with a female reader. Thank you so much, have a nice day :)

"𝑰𝒎 𝑵𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒐𝒖"

first of, thank you so much, you are too kind! your my first request and im so happy! And I'm really sorry if this isn't what you wanted, I'm pretty new at this😅

pairing: Helen of Sparta/Troy x Fembestfriend!reader

warnings: mentions of death, fire genre: headcanons/fluff/ slight hint of angst

you were the daughter of Menelaus' general

you met helen when you were little at a party, all the adults were drinking, dancing and shouting.

so not too ideal for a young child.

you quietly snuck away to the gardens, where you saw a little girl, roughly your age with glowing blonde curls sitting by a small pond of water

you went up to her , she seemed quite friendly.

"what are you doing?" you asked

" im skipping stones, do you want to play with me?"

you grew insanely close. and neve parted, where she went you followed, and you never had a single argument.

as children you would run through the streams and pond pretending to be nymphs

she would tell you the great stories of her father: Zeus the king of the Gods

years later the two of you were sitting and crying and the same pond where you had met, Helen was going to be married. To that old skunk Menelaus too.

after the wedding, Helen became very unhappy, but you always took time out of your day to visit her.

you would read by the pond, sing hymns or bring her a shiny new himation that you had weaved. she would tell you all the gossip that had been spreading around the palace, and tell you how Menelaus snored like a wild boar.

one night there was another big feast, nothing out of the ordinary , except for the guest that would not keep his eyes off Helen.

you knew who he was, everyone did. he was prince Paris of troy, and the fact that he was looking at Helen so much was not good.

you had heard the stories, the handsome prince that would go from town to town sleeping with every man and woman.

if he did anything with Helen and Menelaus found out, he would be dead before dawn

but after the days that followed, after you warned Helen to stay away , and after she did the opposite you noticed how happy she was.

even when she was with you , she was always slightly down or melancholic.

She told you that she had finally felt love and that she has never been happier.

and a week after the party she came to you, it was the night that the Trojans were leaving.

she told you her stupid plan, that would end up costing so many lives. she told that you couldn't change her mind but she wanted to say goodbye.

you realized that there was no scenario where she doesn't end up leaving. so you wrapped some fruits in a cloth for the journey, wrapped her in your favorite veil, as a parting gift she also gave you her veil, and you gave her a small spartan pendant you had made out of wood when you were small. you wished her well, told her to never forget home, and said goodbye.

that was the last time you saw her.

or so you thought

a decade later , Troy was burning in flames, and you were frantically running through the city trying to find any sight of helen.

you had been a medic, and your father didnt want to leave you behind, so you ended up joining him on the beaches of troy. all those years it was like torture, your best friend behind those walls, and you could do nothing.

meanwhile helen was running down the corridors holding paris' hand, they had to get out of here.

Andromache was not far behind, with Briseis. there were people running in every direction and smoke filled the air.

But Helen found a recognized you from the shining thread of her old veil on her head

She would run from Paris and give you the biggest hug

You would hurry out of troy with her and the rest of her now family

And you would never part ever again

[starkerdayss]

Hey meffy! I’d really like to see incest fics more if you’re comfortable with writing them. Also would love more dark tony fics. I love your blog!

Warnings for: dark, incestous Tony (hopefully we still like that in here)

Toy had lost his sense of right and wrong the exact day his son turned sixteen. It was so sudden, the man doubted it hadn’t been forming for years. He was sure he had lost his sanity gradually. Either way, there was no turning back now. Not when he felt like everything his offspring did was some kind of allurement, even the most simple of things. 

He often found himself licking over his bottom lip and biting softly on it as he watched the majestic creature that Peter was do something domestic like wash dishes, or coming out of the shower. 

And he tried many times to convince himself that it was wrong, that he couldn’t look at those long, creamy skin-covered legs, that round ass that stood in place and made him harden on the spot, or even those melancholic eyes that silently begged him to take him and do whatever he pleased. 

He promised himself to win a fight he was set to fail, because the moment the word ‘daddy’ rolled off Peter’s mouth so deliciously flavoured, his hair wet and that innocent look that the boy always carried around like it was an expensive gift, Anthony Stark knew he was done for. 

And as he felt the last piece of evil, of utter malice, settle into his soul, his hands reached forward, grabbing what was supposed to be forbidden, a sigh leaving his sore throat as he brushed with his fingertips the masterpiece he had crafted. “I’m so sorry, Peter” he muttered, sincere regret in his voice, but not an ounce of hesitation. 

“For what?” seemed to whisper the boy, all too aware of the thin ice they were walking in. 

“For giving you your innocence and taking it back” 

Peter frowned, a wolfish grin appearing on his face. “I don’t recall you taking away my innocence” 

“…I’m about to” breathed out the man, closing his eyes momentarily as he allowed himself to sniff the sweet cologne he had bought for his son all spread through his skin. 

“And how are you gonna take it exactly?” 

The moment extended way too long, until Tony was capable of opening his eyes again, a forceful grip bringing Peter closer, making his naked torso brush and touch Tony’s shirt, an unbelievable lust sorrounding both man and teenager. “Selfishly” 

It didn’t take much after that, their bodies moving almost automatically, following the fantasies they had both created in their own minds, completing tasks quicker than they thought was possible. And not even two seconds passed since that word full of promises before they were sharing breaths, their mouths colliding with brutallity yet lovingly. 

They both loved each other almost as much as they hated themselves for surrending. It was unclear to them who had made the first move, but when Peter felt his father’s hand wrapping effortfully on his hair and pulling back, it didn’t matter. The pleasure was always going to be worth it. 

He felt wet kisses going down his neck and onto his collarbone, hot breath contrasting starkly with the shivers he had been holding back ever since he noticed his father’s eyes shift to hunger two years ago. They were relieving, like finding a word after looking for it for so long, or maybe laying down on a comfortable bed when you are too tired, but ten times better. 

It was innevitable. Their bulges bumbed against each other roughly, a comely need of satisfaction fueling their erratic movements. It was both sensational and incredibly slow. Anthony Stark needed more. 

“Do it” hissed Peter, his throat hurting from speaking at such a fragile moment. “I can tell you’re holding back. Just do it, dad”

Tony wavered for a second, an annoying little angel sitting on his shoulder yelling at him way too loud that he was going to wreck his kid beyond point of return, and if he had to be honest with himself, he tried so hard to listen, to stop, to back off and apologize, but Peter was reckless and determined, and his little delicate hand positioned itself over his rock hard bulge, pressing lightly and sending electric shocks down his father’s spine. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t back down now. Peter was clear about what he wanted, and the beast he had just unknowingly fed was awake. 

Suddenly, Tony’s hand started to push Peter’s head down, a pair of eyes settling on his. “This is what you requested, isn’t it? For daddy to treat you like the whore you are?” Peter didn’t answer, but his silence was enough. “So now obey, bitch” 

And without further ado, the boy slowly sank down to his knees, blurring the lines of parenting with his sinful little tongue dancing around his mouth and shaky hands. Tony’s belt, pants and boxers fell to the floor faster than any of them could say ‘sex’, the look of utter surprise on Peter’s little features making his father smirk. He was rather… gifted. 

The staring was so long, Tony had to shake him off of it, grabbing handfuls of his hair and making him look at him. “Too much, now suck” 

It felt cold, but also deeply personal. He had never had his father speak to him that way, always managing to get out sweet little enticing words when he was with his son, but after the recent events, he couldn’t see him as just his blossomed seed. Peter wondered if every other lover had been treated that way. 

Either way, his hand was quick to wrap around the long shaft he had in front of him, his tongue carefully licking the drop of precum that was already falling down. It was torture for Tony to not simply push the kid down his cock, choke him on it and then fuck his mouth. It was utter torture, but he knew they needed to go with Peter’s pace. 

Eventually, the boy gathered enough courage to lick the shaft from the base to the head and then put it inside, swallowing it almost completely, a confused and surprised grin taking over Tony’s face before pleasure erased them. Peter had either done this before, which brought inmense amounts of jealousy, or he had been practicing. 

Al thought this thoughts invaded Tony’s mind, the boy was doing such a good job that it destroyed every single bit of doubt Tony had ever felt. 

The minutes passed and the man was getting desperate, so he started bobbing Peter’s head more forcefully, a sinful sound of saliva filling the room where father/son conversation should have been taking place. He could tell his son was having trouble breathing, but his hand wouldn’t stop making him suck. It felt so good, and the position Peter was in was very seductive, spread legs and the other hand on his precious little trapped coklet. The line between pleasure and pain probably too invisible to tell which one was dominating him. 

Tony smiled and pushed Peter all the way, keeping him in place. He was going to come soon, but he knew he could get all worked up again for the little teenager he had in his living room. 

The man couldn’t wait to be inside that tight and rosy hole he had imagined so many times. Thank god he didn’t have to. 

This was going to go on, and on, and on….

(this was probably not as good as my old drabbles, but I haven’t written sex in so long guys im sorry asdfgh). 

[lunaticbronde]

As a recently 26er, i have been feeling some sort of inadequacy. While I got my degree, and a job, i feel stuck in this position for the foreseable future, still depending a lot on my parents, no prospects of a salary increase, no prospects of love.

That last part is not completely true, i suppose. I have been talking to some guys, but they dont seem to be the right ones. I just keep them around for the ocasional date and sex. I wonder if it makes me a bad person, but everybody takes what they can get.

Am i wasting my last few good years? Im also pissed at society for establishing these unwritten rules that there are certain steps towards what is supposed to be a good life. I should not feel like im in my last good years while im only 26. But I do.

Will it make me make some stupid desicions? I hope not, but I am aware its a very real possibility.

I have been feeling... Dissasociated. Like in a limbo. Like i am not living my life, or like my actual, real life is not what I am experiencing. I know this is above anyones paygrade, other than a psicologist, but thats another wrong thing with me.

I have never been to therapy. I like the idea of it, i just dont think I could open up to anyone, and its easier to write about it.

So back to my love life.

I have two possible dates this week. I suppose I like both guys, in different ways. One is a tatted up lawyer who calles me baby. I hate being called baby. That one was a surprise, i previously did not expect him to have any depth, but conversation is interesting. I think we might not be very compatible sex wise though, but I suppose I will be finding out some time soon.

The other one could be relationship material, but he is vegetarian, and i literaly have no food for him on my pantry. Is it wrong on my part to think we are not compatible just because of that? There is something else, i don't think he has a plan for his future. Also, he sort of seriously joked that we could not have a relationship because i dont swallow. Who says that? He has a way with his hands though... Its like he knows the pleasure points other man just seem to ignore exist. We are uncompatible, i just wish we could fit. But I will enjoy him until one of us gets bored.

Oh, and dont even get me started with the one thing really wrong with my love life. I am still very much infatuaded with one of my exes. The one I thought I would marry. The one. We broke up, i actually wanted to break up with him, but I didn't consider that I might never get over him. It has been about 5 years I think. So yeah, i am real fucked up.

I do not want a relationship, i want to be free, so I dont even know why I keep torturing myself trying to fit some guy in the picture. I suppose part of it is because i feel lonely, but thats when we come back to that clock ticking society thing I hate.

I want to travel, i feel like there are greater things for me in the world, but I am stuck in this place, in this job, with these mediocre relationships, getting wasted on something every weekend and making bad desicions every once in a while just to feel like i am alive, with no regard for the consequenses.

I dont necesarily hate my job. I hate that I dont feel like i can do it, i feel like i dont have the tools, and i feel its not a passion, its just a thing. I am a creative person, and i am not using that side of myself right now.

I feel like im a train that its on fire, but still rushing to a destination not even the driver knows, while trying to put away the fire with glasses of booze.

I also recently lost my dog. I had her for over half of my life, since I was 10 years old. Thats a whole lot of unpacked feelings I refuse to open. I will write about her some day.

Oh, that guy I like but think we are not compatible, he likes to analyse me. He threw some bombs last time we were together, that felt like a poke to an exposed nerve. He says that I dont like to open up because i dont want to be hurt like i have been in the past, so while I fool myself thinking I can open up, i can only do it sexually, not with my feelings. He was right. He also said that the music I listen to is melancholic. I didnt think so, but he might have a point.

Which came as a surprise to me, because i considered myself a happy and optimistic person. Hell, my mother calls me every time she is feeling down because she says my good mood is always contagious.

But if my music is melancholic... It makes me question if its a facade. Am i happy? I dont think I am. Why?