#its nontheless suffering

[orangepeelshortbreadcookies]

Hello!!! sorry i jum in here but i saw many post of your as a polin pen hater. You can hate what you want of course but its necessary to lie just to hate a character because of her body??? it wasnt that bad, she was not mean.

yes, what she did telling the ton marinas secret was not the best choise but it was what she thought it was the only way. Do you all wish for colin a marriage with not love?? and in a more practical way this is fiction and we all now he was going t end with pen , they are end game and thi is romance, its suppouse to be romantic that theu found each other, and for me it is. She didnt told marina secret because she wants colin for herself , she never thought she cold have him. maybe yo dont understand this but we, fat girls who are foung unattractive NEVER expect love or having a man, even less somone like colin. I think you, as many sadly, jugdge Pen actions too strong and deep down its all becuase of how she looks. Depp down i know you judge her action strongly becuase you can't accept that a woman who looks like that get something. I know you will keep hating, just want to say my opinion

(2) I saw you ask once why we ( pen fans) are mad when people hate her like you do if we got everything, saying like she happy and get married and LW. i will answer that from my perspective. Im fat, people is mean and that herats and yes, maybe it not a good things but it nice to have a revenge for all that suffering , but beside that i feel represented FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME in a romance show, ALL THE ROMANCE FEMALE LEADS AND THIN WOMAN and for the first times she looks like me but everyone is hating her becuase of how she looks and the worst is anyone accept its becuase of that, you all write long essays jugdging her actions but as i said, Were her actions that bad???? think about it fr......

Others please also refer to this post for more context.

I did not intend to answer this ask, because honestly, I'm really very lazy. Since there are only so many ways I can make my argument against the same accusation over and over again, especially to someone who clearly doesn't want to listen, I figured ignoring was the right decision. I'd rather spend my creative energy and efforts on my own writings, instead of figuring out another elaborate wording on how being critical of a character's actions does not equate fatphobia, and that personal adversity does not equal a 'get out of jail' free card for repeatedly inflicting pain on other people on a mass scale. I've talked about it in depth in my own blog, as well as reblogging other eloquent, well thought-out posts from others, Polin fans and anti-Polin fans alike. You can just scroll through my blog to see that. But I don't think you have come after me, time and again, to be convinced.

Even now, I still think ignoring you would have been the smarter, or at least, easier course of action for me. But I digress. Maybe it's one of those days where I feel more confrontational, maybe my ADHD is acting up and my meds are not hitting as well today, maybe after weeks of stress-filled personal achievements I'm feeling talkative seeing someone trying to disturb my peace. Nontheless, since you've made diligent efforts in seeking out my response, today's your lucky day, once and for all.

Something my mutuals and followers might have learned about me, is that I, being pretty fucking lazy, don't post/write a lot. To remedy this, when I do post, oftentimes I try to be as thorough as I possibly can. So, in the spirit of being thorough, here's a little log of the things I have received in the past weeks, on this site as well as on AO3, some of which, @cherryblossom970sblog, I have reasons to believe came from you

So you feel represented by character. Awesome. Good for you. You should celebrate it with like-minded people. You think nobody likes Penelope the way you do? Find the ones who do. I can assure you, they exist. I saw them daily on my dash. Read fics that bring you joy. Don't read the ones that don't. I have seen way too many Penelope/Anthony, Penelope/Benedict or even Penelope/Gregory fics, or fics where Penelope just straight up abused Colin that are celebrated in the comments. I don't like those and you know what I do? Scroll past those fics or click out of those and not read them. You know what I don't do? Go after the writers, try to police their writing, and accuse them of bigotry for not catering to my preferences.

Accept the fact that it's not going to be a 100% percent approval rating. And that's fine. That's part of life. I'm a primary Benophie fan, I've seen people wanting Benedict to end up with different people. It's their prerogative, I leave them alone. I have mutuals who have different takes on actions of Kate, Edwina, and Anthony, with varying degrees of feelings regarding how season 2 ends, and I have my own opinions. Personally, I find all three parties were wrong in that triangle, especially Anthony, and the sisterhood between Kate and Edwina in that season ought to have been handled with more respect and care. And my mutuals and I have civil, nuanced discussions about such things and ending those with still different opinions. That's okay. They're fictional characters and their actions are up to character analysis. It's fine.

What ISN'T fine is obssessively stalking inboxes of strangers, REAL people, unleashing insane level of hate and prejudices in defence of a FICTIONAL character, and accusing them of crimes they OBJECTIVELY did not commit, all because they don't share your opinions. I know you don't think this kind of behaviour is okay, you said so yourself that it's not a good thing. You've experienced fatphobia, you have my sympathies for that, but it doesn't give you the right to be shitty to other people. Your own bad experiences do not entitle you to disrespect, dismiss, invalidate and insult the people you harassed, including me, many of which are WoCs who have valid concerns regarding how their own experiences are represented and treated on the show. My struggles of being a bisexual, Asian, immigrant woman does not excuse me from being toxic to people who have done me no harm. I will not be vindicated in demeaning someone who have criticisms against the actions of fictional character who share my traits, criticisms that I just happen to disagree with.

And frankly, I find reducing the nuances of a character or person to only their bodies, to contribute (as either condemn or excuse) their actions to be only the result of their bodies, fucking insulting. It's infantalising and dehumanising.

Have a nice day and happy shipping. Leave us alone.

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

The Golden Throne has a mythological precedent.

I can't believe I didn't make that connection sooner. It's from Greek Mythology. When Hephaestus was born, his mother, Hera, was disgusted by him. Apparently he was a super ugly baby or something, anyways, she instanty grabbed the boy and chucked him off that divine mountain of theirs.

Being a god the baby obviously survived, grew up in the mortal realm, became a craftsman of excellent skill, and had no good words for his mother that had cast him out. Eventually he hid is identity and returned to Olympus with a selection of his finest wares as presents. Among those: a golden throne for Hera. That thing was obviously a trap, for once she sat down on it, she was trapped, shackled by the magic inherent in the metal. He then revealed his identity, essentially told her to rot on there for all of eternity, and left again.

Even the other gods could not break her free with their power, and eventually they had to send the wine god to get him blackout drunk and tie him to a mule to get him to come back. They essentially struck a deal with him: he would be welcomed back on Olympus as a fully respected god without much issue, but on the condition that he deactivated the golden throne. That eventually happened, but the relationship between Hephaestus and his mother was never really that optimal. At least they advanced from the "I will condem you to eternal suffering" stage of things, which means that he has forgiven her at least a little.

So what does that mean for 40k? Well, the Golden Throne here is a tool of punishment. The crime? Mistreating your kid. That part is fairly obvious, and we all know the "Worst Dad in all of Sci-Fi" memes when it comes to the Emperor.

The more curious bit is the end-condition: if the Golden Throne is anything like its mythological predecessor, the only way to end the torment is for the mistreated children to forgive the crimes of the parent. Given how a bunch of them were, uh, "permanently removed from reality" by the man himself (he has like three clear-cut philicide charges on him, and that's not counting those dieing in the collateral damage arising from those three cases), that will be a bit tricky.

But the fact that there is an end-condition in the original design at all is fascinating. Not that it would ever be met, the children as are thick-headed and stubborn as their father in this specific instance, but it is there nontheless.

[reminiscingtonight]

For women players, I think everyone will find its country > club and they want to get called up for everything. Injuries happen unfortunately, it’s part of the game and fans need to accept that. Is it unfortunate it happened on international duty? Yes, but it could easily have happened at the next Chelsea training session if she hadn’t gone. Fans should be putting all their energy into demanding better research and why so many players are suffering ACL injuries instead of where it happened.

Exactly. These players find country call ups as something with high honor (as they should). And like you said, injuries are part of the game. An unfortunate part of the game, but part of it nontheless

[ram-on]

whenyourbirdisbroken asked:

Hi ram-on! Thanks for your tags on that fic rec for Carry That Weight, I've never read that fic but your tags made it sound very interesting! What are other McLennon fics you like, if you don't mind sharing?

Hello there, @whenyourbirdisbroken! Thank you for my very first Beatles related ask and sorry for the late reply!! I discovered fanfiction through the Beatles fandom, I had never read fanfic before! But I'm still too bad at bookmarking things, so I'll certainly forget some I loved. Still, here's a list of those I can remember now:

Carry That Weight and its sequence Hello Goodbye by @waveofahand It's a massive work by a massive talent and it has a very special place in my heart. @idontwanttospoiltheparty described it very well in their recent post about it, and I added a bit of my commentary in the tags. Don't worry about the length, you don't have to read the two parts to enjoy it, but also if you start from the beginning and it's your cup of tea you may soon discover you never want it to end!

 Mums, Yur Boys are Crying by waveofahand. If you love hurt/comfort, this fic includes both John and Paul suffering - John's mom dying and Paul helping him go trhough the funeral, etc, and then Paul himself getting into another situation, and John worrying about him too. The boys are young but there's kindness, maturity and wisdom in it and the typical picturesque, novel-like features of waveofhand's prose. A special bonus are the very charming scenes between Mimi and Paul which may colour your perception of the interactions between those two forever (I always expect them to act like that in other fics). It's also a delightfully finished fic, it has a beautiful ending and conclusion.

Everything by merseydreams . As you may notice, I'm mostly a fan of drama and angst, but @merseydreams are my favorite exception. They're a comedy genius, their fics are romantic, charming, witty, very vivid and enjoyable both on story-buld level and micro-sentence level. I've often told them they should write scripts for sitcoms and romantic comedies/dramedies and other good things. Also good thoughtful characterization, relationship study-ing and dialogue too (so there's seriousness in them too! They're ultimately happy but not fluffy.). I love all their fics but I guess The Birthday Party is the best by being the longest, if you somehow missed it go read it ASAP! 

i was a younger man then (now) (post hoc)  by fingersfallingupwards.  This fic is so touching, that I don't know how to describe it. It's a very poetic, imaginative and unique story about John&Paul-forever and time travel. About the connection of their souls in a fantastical but poignant sense that somehow fits them so much. Might make you cry but it's worth it. Also, completely finished fic as well, with a thrilling emotional twist towards the end. Might be the most complete fic I've read. The fic also provide very good context for the flaming pie anecdote :-)

On our way back home by Kathleenishereagain. This one is also about time travel, but in a different way, basically about old Paul getting back to being young again and how he'd do things differently. I think it's quite popular so you probably all know it. (Funny thing is I never thought I'd care about time travel, but ultimately it's just a writing vessel and aren't we always time travelling when we fantasise about the Beatles?) 

Close The Door Lightly When You Go by RosalindBeatrice. Set in 1979 when Paul comes to visit John in the Dacota, who acts like he doesn't want him there. It's awesome, one of those fics, in which they have real tension and problems which makes it all more real. It's mostly inner-thoughs and dialogue-driven but very intense nontheless, great characterisation, great attention to detail, just fantastic for lovers of post break up relationship studies and excellent writing.

The Wild Horses trilogy, from which I especially love the last part, Son of a Shining Path. It's about young Paul and John and Paul being abused by his father, and the first part might be a bit too dark for some. But I love the writing, and especially in the third part (which has no abuse but other suffering) I just love how well being worried about someone you love and being unable to show it is written in the end there. It's subtle, very realistic in its details, I love it.

I'm Looking Through You by @idontwanttospoiltheparty That's the only fic in this list which is still a work in progress, still updated. If you follow the author on Tumblr you know how smart they are, and their fic is just as thoughtful and attentive to the Beatles history, the music and the psychology of it all. The story gets more exciting and rich whith each chapter, I fell in love with the last three. It also pays attention to all four of the Beatles and their human sides and motivations in a way that rarely happens. Last chapter included the best incorporation of the Manila adventures I've read in fic. Just many emotionally packed and thrilling scenes all around (also that thing I just wrote about being worried about someone and being frozen about how to help them which I love being written realistically in fics -- is here too.) Go read it if you haven't and let's read the next update soon together!!

Widow by abromeds on LJ. This story is more than a decade old, but it's no wonder it still appears in fic recs. It's about death and grief - not John but Paul dying like John did - so it's truly dark, not like fun angsty, but truly deeply dramatic and real. So you might think why read something sad, but maybe you should, because it's so good. It's also serious writing on meaningful topic and I think the fictional element (Paul dying and not John) somehow helps it being more bearable and at the same time makes you think about the actual reality and we kinda avoid doing it, don't we? And it's just very well written, there are also very plausible-sounding flashbacks of their history and relationship through the years (the one about why John actually climbed the fence in Cavendish is my favorite!), so it's not really all about death. And my absolutely favorite thing in ''Widow'' is the very ending, the last sentence even. It's the most perfect, most poignant ending this story could have had, an ending any good fuckin literature could have. Sometimes I walk on the streets and think about that ending. 

-------------------

This fic rec is got too wordy, so I'll end this here, although there are other fics I've enjoyed just as much, but I'll add them some other time!

Always feel free to recommend me some fics too (or to share your thoughts on the already mentioned!)

[radioactive-metal]

me or something idk

Edit round two

Why are you here?

because my parents did something I’d rather not think about

no like on tumblr.

because I need somewhere to scream into the void about my interests while I’m slowly crushed by college level mathematics

Who are you?

a question I find myself grappling with every day

but seriously though.

blah blah blah I’m of a nondescript age, suffering in college level maths, physics, CS, and history. I am a wildly inconsistent person in terms of doing things so I might post 4 times a day and I might not post at all.

I will rapidly and randomly switch around interests on a whim. Variety is the spice of life and all that

I’m exactly the opposite of what you’d expect, do with that what you will.

maybe I write fanfics sometimes, if there’s enough room in my skull between random numbers and the deep instinctive wish to purchase an old wooden sailing vessel and embark on a grand expedition with my friends.

my postings will vary wildly between boring questions about the logistics of things to sex jokes to everything in between.

have you ever been diagnosed with a mental illness, been to prison, or committed robbery?

no no and yes, but not in that order.

favorite character in a book?

finianfinianfinianfinianfinianfinian

good question, not one I have an answer too but good question nontheless.

will you marry me?

no. Not unless you can [personally identifiable information redacted] with a walnut.

what do you hate?

… many things, none of them consistent. Except like… anything socially conservative. Like for fucks sake is it that hard to accept that maybe not everything is black and white.

does the black moon howl?

only when time stops it’s march

how do you generate your ideas?

divine madness, the small animals outside my windows blinking at me in Morse code, or the gentle whispering I hear coming from my computer. Take your pick.

what are you gonna post about?

wouldn’t you like to know

also didn’t I answer this one already?

Divine madness? Really?

objection your honor compound question.

Also it’s funny and quite frankly an exceptional reason for justifying random actions.

What kind of divine?

whatever I feel like. Monotheism is cringe and by god/gods/nothing/universe I will add another component to the endless smokescreen that is me

Where are you?

the darkest depths of hell, also know as the general vicinity of Seattle. UTC-8

Surely this isn’t the best you can do for an introduction?

No, I just can’t be bothered. Also you sound like my mother. So…. Do with that what you will I suppose

also don’t call me Shirley

wanna ask me questions? Go ahead! It won’t go well for me but if calculus has taught me anything its that if your suffering something is happening

facfic list:

[pending me not being lazy]

my tags:

#Radiation Ramblings: when I’m rambling about stuff in general as opposed to a specific fixation. This will be many things because I am the human equivalent of a magpie and easily distracted by shiny things

[oleanderblume]

Ima say that Charlie's mom has Alastor's soul and he became the radio demon and gained his power in exchange for doing her bidding, based on what's been shown, souls are immortal unless sold to another sinner/demon. So my assumption is Alastor gained the souls of other overlords in order to be able to kill them, OR, he didn't kill them and is/was emmassing an army for Lilith. She seems to be left out of the story, but heaven's talk about "another uprising" makes me think that there was one previously, began by Lilith, not Lucifer.

Lucifer is an angel afterall, a fallen one, but an angel nontheless, and if his banishment to hell was punishment for his perceived transgression, and Lilith convinced him in the past to stage an uprising against heaven, it stands to reason why he wouldn't do it again with Charlie's life on the line.

My guess is Lilith started the first uprising, and that failed, prompting the exterminations to start happening, and after Charlie was born and the exterminations still persisted, Lilith probably wanted to do another uprising. But Lucifer would have been much more reluctant to do that when he has a daughter to protect.

So lilith leaves, taking Alastor to do her own planning over that 7 year gap. Then she hears about Charlie's plan, sends Alastor to protect her and the hotel, while she's still working on the next war effort.

At least...that's my guess at what's been going on.

It also makes sense why Alastor is so uniquely invested in the hotel and why he haaates Lucifer. He's the step dad of the situation lol.

Also, I just love Lucifer and his whole personality, Charlie takes after him in almost every way and its adorable lol.

The shows pacing is kind of suffering in the time scale department, i think it would have served the plot better if it were released spaced out similarly to Helluvaboss, because the binge format isn't conducive to the massive assumed time jump between episode 4 and episode 5. But that's more to do with the platform and way the episodes are being released, than the actual writing of the show.

The first 4 episodes take place over the course of 3 or 4 months, not in direct succession. And the last 2 episodes will probably take place during the last month before extermination, and then the season finale on the day of extermination. That pacing makes sense, but because of the way the episodes are released, it doesn't *feel* that way initially. Not the fault of the writers, more so the fault of Amazon's bizarre releasing schedule.

The philosophy of the show is really neat, reminescent of The Good Place. Where heaven is ridiculously underpopulated because of the archaic rules that gatekeep almost everyone out of heaven, and hell is overpopulated because the system of judgment is so off balance that it doesn't account for modern morality and extenuating circumstances. <- this is basically the same as The Good Place, but with more furries and more direct reference to Christian theology.

So far, i like it a lot, and im interested to see where it diverges from The Good Place.

I doubt Charlie is going to stay mad at Vaggie for long, for one she didn't seem particularly shaken in the first place, and Vaggie has shown her devotion to Charlie's cause from the start, her being an angel and her past of being and exterminator being a major hang up for Charlie would contradict Charlie's entire philosophy of "people are capable of change"

Also, i don't think Angel will get to heaven, in fact, i think he would get there and choose to stay in hell because hell is actually better than heaven in a lot of ways— especially if you're looking at it from the specifically Christian lense. Heaven wouldn't tolerate the things most souls would *want* as a part of their paradise, especially not by modern standards.

I honestly think that heaven will be described, as it has been thus far, as only accepting to the hyper religious zealot sorts that are deeply hypocritical— why else would Adam be there? Dude is the epitome of a red-pilled mysogynist dickwad. He likely got into heaven based solely on his kissup nature to the presiding God.

on what is considered appropriate behavior.

I think this is the general criticism the show is going for, a solid combination of critiquing the functionality of a system like heaven and hell, and a critique of the "virtues" one would be required to follow in order to get there.

Fuck, even Lucifer was taken aback by Charlie being in a queer relationship. To me that speaks a lot to the values *he* as an angel, was taught.

[blackgoldaster]

(X)Gaster, Creators, and the Knowledge of being fictional

so, in an appearant fit of self destruction, i managed to read part of Xtales plot on a fanon wiki.... and well, i couldn't decipher all of it, but from what i understand, XGaster's motivation comes from not making a good enough AU...which appearantly drove him insane? And appearantly he uses everyone as puppets to try and create the perfect AU as a result.

But how is that any different from a real life creator? I myself suffer from perfectionism, and im sure many other people do to. We all create stories just to scrap them again, especially me. I was told making multiple versions of a story is part of the writing process...what makes XGaster overwriting each story any different from that? What makes him evil, when other creators arent?

it seems to be from the same logic of the people that blame the player for the games actions, while also villifying the player at the same time (or alternatively, frisk or chara). And yet, sans says something interesting, in that the no mercy route is done not out of a desire of good or evil, but because you can, so you have too.

that whole desire of not doing it out of good or evil...thats the thing that people keep forgetting. You dont magically become evil by killing all the enemies in a videogame, even if the game itself says so. The reason? Because the characters you mistreat are not real.

People love to villify the player, but strangely enough, not the creator. You know, the one who makes the story, the one above the player? Why is the player evil, but not the one who enabled the player, and all other evil in the story in the first place?

once again, because characters are not real. But say, what if a fictional character became aware that everything wasn't real? Like, actually became aware that everyone is just a figment of someone's mind, including themselves.

What if, the knowledge of everything being fictional, made them view it like us, the real people, and what if, the desire to create a good story is the same that we do? But don't forget, because the creator is also a character, their own feelings don't matter...which means the only reason they would create a story...

Is to entertain real people, aka us.

So now I ask the question, If a character knew that everything is fictional, and thus not real, whose own feelings don't matter, who only desires to entertain real people...

Would they still be evil then?

But thats the strange thing in the UT Multiverse, while the characters are very much aware of Creators existing, I almost never see it acknowledged that the multiverse is not real, or the sheer horror & nihilism the characters would realistically experience if they found out.

Sure, there is the occasional story that does, but those stories always end with "we feel real, so we are real, so the person who doesnt acknowledge us as real is the bad guy and we should hate them!"

and to put it bluntly, thats a really shallow take to an interesting philosophical question.

As for Xtale? Xtale/Underverse doesn't seem to acknowledge its AUs as "not real" or atleast dont show any nihilistic responses to it (to my knowledge). I find this quite a shame, 'cause well...

It would make Xgaster a much more compelling character in my opinion.

A creator who is identical to us in every way, with the exception that their fictional...imagine all the interesting philosophical questions that would arise. A fictional villain whose descent to villany is acting like a real person

But, thats complicated. Thats not what the surface view of canon implies. Of course we cant have that.

No, the fandom wants a villain they can unconditionally hate, maybe with a semi-sympathethic backstory thats unproportional to their actions, but a hatable villain nontheless.

first was Flowey, then Chara, then King, then Mike, and ofc the Knight & the Player, as well as the occasional Asgore & Alphys, but the scapegoat nobody recognizes as one, is Gaster, who has been villified from day one, and will probably remain so forever...

Which is a shame, not only cause that makes the stories far more shallow than they need to be, but also cause, well, Gaster is both an Undertale and Deltarune character, with meta knowledge, implied to be overseeing everything, so what would the next logical step be?

or in other words, what would make a truly self aware fictional character any more evil than us?

and once again...

what would make (X)Gaster any more evil than us?

[artisticmenace]

sting: a similar feeling to a metal clang. it even goes away the same way

ache: just like dread. can be mild or severe, it doesnt matter. its neverending nontheless.

stab: feels like your organs might actually fall out of you. you clutch the area like somebody just cut open your stomach

needle: feels like at acupuncturist went to town on you with no regard for anything ever

DONT YOU FUCKING MOVE: only hurts when you move a certain direction.

immense suffering: basically just AAAAAAA. usually very centralized but can occasionally be all over

bones: very deep ache. thus is the pain that you just kind of lay down and hope it kills you.

creep: starts smal and then spreads to your whole body like its food coloring in water.

[lord-pigeon]

Me, a fool: Oh I’m just gonna go reread Book 4 of Samurai of Hyuga, feeling like a good reading session is in order--

Me, after the first page brings back memories of what happened to Jun/ko:

[frogsmulder]

My July Reads

The Girl in the Red Coat by Roma Ligocka (translated by Margot Bettauer Dembo from German)

Started May 2018 finished August 2022 (mostly read in July 2022)

Dark, reflective, nonfiction, historical

Ligocka was inspired to write this autobiography when she saw the premier of Schindler's List: she recognised the girl in the redcoat as herself. She spent her childhood in the Krakow ghetto but managed to escape with her mother in 1945, constantly moving around to avoid death. It is heartbreaking in its retelling, honouring the bewilderment of children forced to face this reality, but also the trauma they are left with as they become adults in a new world. It brings to light how important communication is with loved ones and is another major influence for the penning of this book, with its dedication "For my son, Jakob" after such a complicated relationship with Ligocka's own mother.

I genuinely cried whilst reading it, the loneliness and isolation of Ligocka throughout her life, her frustration with her own identity, politics, and social conventions, and her dealings with mental health all make for a hard but worth while read. I often hard to put it down because of its intensity and cause for reflection.

The most memorable parts for me were the secret garden her mother created for her whilst they were in hiding, her close and then distant relationship with her mother, not being able to understand that the war was over/not understanding what freedom was, and (skip the rest of this paragraph if you don't want to read about bodily autonomy violation) forced abortion.

The Binding by Bridget Collins

Started February 2022 finished July 2022

Parallel world, victorian industrial, dark acadamia, mlm gay, amnesia, enemies to lovers, fantasy

You can forget things you don't want to remember by visiting a binder and putting your memories in a book. Emmett Farmer is a binder who suffers with binderbound fever. By accident he discovered his book and his lost memories. He remembers his first love, Lucian Darnay, but Lucian cannot remember him.

This is my favourite book of the year so far, maybe ever. Its also the first lgbtq book I've read and I completely understand it now, I cried when Emmett's parents found out about his gay relationship. It was heartbreaking but thankfully ends on a hopeful note. It took me a while to get into it but once there, the characters are loveable and I couldn't put it down.

My favourite moments are literally all of part 2 and the ending. Which are basically the romantic parts.

The Mad Women's Ball by Victoria Mas (translated by Frank Wynne from French)

Started and finished July 2022

Spiritualism, feminism, anti ableism, novella, industrial France

The daughter of a lawyer and well-to-do family, Eugénie, has no intentions of getting married and regularly sneaks off to bars and coffee houses. When she attends a debate with the aid of her brother about the spiritual world, she learns that she is not alone in the gift she has as a medium. She knows if she tells anyone, however she will end up in the Salêtrière.

The daughter of a country doctor, Geneviève, traumatised by the death of her sister becomes a nurse to help others to atone for not being able to help her sister. She believes only is science and fact: this is her religion.

The Mad Women's Ball was a real historical event where once a year, the Parisian elite could interact with the inmates of the Salêtrière, like viewing animals in a zoo.

I appreciated this book more after reading the author's note at the end and her intended comment on the voyeuristic habits of society and drawing comparisons to modern reality TV. The characters are all engaging but the feminist message I feel was a little heavy at times and distracted from the story. I do wish we got to know more about all of the characters and their stories but I enjoyed the read nontheless. I also wish Geneviéve and Eugénie's relationship could have been more developed. The Epilogue of the book really hit though, especially for Geneviève's character development.

[ashisstrange]

MASTERLIST

ʷᵒʳᵈˢ: ².²ᵏ

ᵖᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜʰⁱˡᵈᵉ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗᵃᵍˢ: ʰᵘʳᵗ/ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ, ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ, ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ⁱⁿˢᵉʳᵗ, ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᵃˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

Its late in the night, far too late for your liking. The moon is glistening in the sky with it's stars, providing a small sheen of light in your dark room, passing through the curtains. It's not unusual for Tartaglia to get home late considering his occupation, but you never got used to the worry pooling in ur gut each hour that passes without him by your side.

What if he's gotten incredibly hurt and you're not there to help? What if one day he doesn't return home? Nontheless you always prepare extra dinner and make the bed, even on nights he doesn't return. You never had the idea of coming home to loving arms and warm dinner as a kid, so it felt as if it's your duty to make sure Tartaglia never suffers that feeling.

The feeling of a stab in the chest as you enter the dark house, eerily silent. You'd always pad your way to the kitchen silently and snag a sandwich before going to bed in your room. Your living situation had never been inherently bad, but the people you lived with, the people any other person would've called their parents, seemed to make everything unbearable.

That is why when you turned 18 you moved out to Liyue harbor, and your close friend Zhongli was there every step of the way. You had run into him once during a trip at the age of 16, and you had kept contact through letters ever since.

The man, at the time, told you he was 23, but he never really seemed to age. You brushed it off, probably overthinking it. That is the same person that introduced you to Childe, it was quite a sudden occurence, but you'll be forever grateful.

You needed a place to stay and your friend told you that his friend wouldnt mind a roommate, and that he was rarely found home anyways. You took up the offer, not knowing that your roommate would be one of the fatui harbingers.

You were off to a rocky start, the man refusing to talk to you the very few times he was at the appartment. Later though, he seemed to warm up to you, ever so slowly.

You don't remember how your relationship ever came to be, it's not like you've ever explicitly put a label to it. There was just a moment where you felt as if everything changed. What you had wasn't just merely a romantic relationship, it was more than that. To provide each other comfort and love like no one else had ever done before. Unconditional love that didnt seem to falter, even during the moments where you parted ways.

You smile to yourself, remeniscing the days you barely talked, and the days you spent helping him when he was wounded. There was one particular night he just crashed into your bed in the middle of the night, even though he usually only used the couch.

He had clung to you as if you were his only lifeline, sleeping soundlessly as you laid in shock. The shock died down after a few seconds though, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Not long after you fell asleep too, and since that night Tartaglia had never slept on the couch ever again.

You check th clock. 4:37 Am, way too late to be up, but it's not like you'd sleep regardless. You'd probably get an ear full from Zhongli during your scheduled lunch the next day, but that, folks, is something for future you to deal with.

Suddenly you heard the turning of keys in a lock, and a door opening and slamming shut. That can only be one person. Then you heard a crash coming from the living room, making you shoot up. You slipped on your slippers as you quickly shuffled your way across the room and out into the living room.

You flicked on the light and were met by Tartaglia, slumped against the back of the couch. His bow was discarded to the side and he was breathing heavily. Sluggishly, his eyes opened to meet yours, his gaze seemed distant, almost empty.

You snapped out of your trance, rushing to pull his arm over your shoulder. You managed to drag him across the living room, over to the bathroom, settling him down on the closed lid of the toilet. You held up your hands, as if to say 'wait here'. You didn't dare break the silence that hung over you, scared that you'd set him off or something.

He didn't seem to protest, so you left to go get the med kit from the kitchen, and a clean rag to clean off the blood splattered across his skin. Was it his? That was a question that, regardless if you could guess the answer, would be left unanswered. As always.

He met your eyes when you returned, seeking for some contact. He knew how much you hated blood. The stickyness, the sickening smell and the thought of what must have happened that involved getting covered in blood. You always helped him regardless, and he thanked you dearly for that. After a long day he simply could not do it himself.

It makes him feel helpless, but you're always right by his side to make him feel better. You wet the rag, cleaning off his calloused hands. His face too had some traces of blood, but those were easily wiped away as well.

After some emergency stitches and a bandage around his bicep you motioned for him to stand up, letting him know that the treatment was done. He was still quite weak, but not as much as before.

"Thanks," he croaked, the first words you shared in 2 days. His voice sounded devoid of any confidence. He seemed very fragile, but you didn't comment it.

"No worries," You send him a reassuring smile, helping him get up and over to the bedroom. You see him visibly relax once he's in bed, snuggling into the sheets. He immediately rolls over towards you when he feels the matress dip, wrapping his arms around your waist.

His face is buried in between your shoulder blades, and it's nearly impossible for you to turn over and look at him. He only does that when he's in a bad mood, and you stop putting in effort to try and face him.

"Bad day?" He hums, the vibrations thrumming against your back. He seems tense, but you're careful not to trigger him too much. The last thing you want is to stress him out even more, knowing he has a lot on his plate already.

After a while, when you've started nodding away assuming he fell asleep you suddenly feel movement behind you. You open your eyes as you hear a small sniffle. It's almost as if you could hear your hart shatter from beneath your ribs. He probably thought you were asleep too.

His arms had relaxed, allowing you to turn around easily. His ocean blue eyes met yours, big with surprise, even though they seemed almost grey-ish in the faint moonlight. All you could do is smile at him as you opened his arms, for him to rely on you.

And that's exactly what he did. qHe fell into your chest, sniffling and crying freely as you drew patterns on his back, your other hand running through his hair. You could almost feel his clogged nose by the way he was having trouble breathing. After a bit his sobbing eased down to mere sniffles as you handed him a handkerchief to blow out his nose.

He used to have a lot of trouble with that, relying on people. Upon meeting him he imediately sparked you as the type of person that didnt bother anyone with his personal feelings, bottling them up for only him to experience. You could see how it physically and mentally ate away at him

That's why one day you faced him, and opened your arms. He had quirked up a brow, confused at what you were insinuating. "Rely on me." You said, and he chuckled, assuming it was a joke.

When you didn't move he realised you weren't kidding. Eventually you wrapped your arms around him, the man tense in your grip. "You don't seem to want to bug anyone else with your problems, so you can rely on me instead,"

You had no idea ho much those words had meant to him, they stuck by him like gum under a shoe. It felt good, he admitted, to have someone to rely on.

"I'm so sorry," He croaks, and he sounds nearly as small as he did in the bathroom half an hour ago, his eyes red with tears. Seeing him like that made your chest clench in pain, knowing the pain the world has caused him.

"There's nothing for you to apologise for," he seems to be taken aback by your comment, maybe even... offended?

"N-no way, i'm clearly a burden to you and a waste of yo-" you shut him up by pressing a kiss to his lips, making his eyes widen.

"You have nothing to apologize for because i am here for you, willingly. I promised to help you with whatever you're going through didn't i," He nods in defeat, leaning back into you. The way he cuddles up to you almost seems domestic, forgetting the fact that he kills people for a living.

"You need to take a break sweetie, otherwise you'll just keep eating yourself up," You stroke a lock of hair out of his face that nearly seemed glued by the stickyness of his tears. He furrows his brows, creating deep creases in between them.

"You know i can't, there's way too much for me to do," He looks up at you, as if he's offended you brought it up in the first place. You press your thumb in between his brows, easing up the crease and stopping him from furrowing.

"We both know it isn't a crime to take a week off, considering you've never used your days off," He tries to butt in, but you shush him before he can start. "And before you start about 'your duties', there's enough harbingers at the fatui, it's not like they can't send Scaramouche to deal with your business for a bit,"

He frowns again, but you resume in stroking his hair. "Besides, if they don't allow you to take off, which i highly doubt, they'll have me to deal with," You smirk. His eyes crinkle up as he musters a small smile. You're not the most intimidating person on the planet, but it's the sentiment that matters.

"What would i even do in that week though," he huffs, fiddling with the back of your shirt as he seems deep in thought.

"Well i had just the idea," you chuckle as he looks at you in disbelief. His eyes are still a bleary red, but you can tell he's a lot less tense than earlier. "And that is..." He continues, his tone ever so curious.

"Say, how long has it been since you've been back home," he visibly tenses up, not meeting your eyes. You know its a sensetive topic, but it'd really do him good to go back home to see his family.

"I dont know, nearly two years," his voice is merely above a whisper, bless the fact that the room is so silent you'd be able to hear a pin drop. You adjust your position so that he's laying against you more comfortably, going back to stroking through his hair.

"Well i thought we could book it to shnezhynaiya for a week or two, spend some time with your family," He lays still against you, as if he'd break if he moved. "After all, they've only heard about me through letters," you chuckle.

You hold him a little tighter, leaning into the warmth. "Wouldn't you like that?" You say in his ear, just above a whisper. That seems to break him, the realisation dawning on him that he'd get to see his family again.  Tears run down his face once again, only this time they're not caused by distress. He nods as he buries his face back into your shoulder.

You stroke his back as you continue talking about your trip, soothing him. Later, when he's stopped crying, he talks along. He tells you about his parents, about how his mother used to be there for him through everything. About how he used to go ice fishing with his father in the winters, and proudly mention he caught a very big fish once.

He also tells you about his siblings, about how he cares for every single one of them very dearly. He also tells you about the spots he wants to visit with you he used to hang out at.

He tells you all about it, and for the first time in a while you see him smile. Really, genuinely smile. The kind of smile where his eyes crinkle up and he bares his teeth. It's an incredibly endearing sight, and u make a mental note to never forget it.

Suddenly he yawns. "You must be exhausted," you chuckle as you both adjust your positions, ready to fall asleep. He only hums as he keeps his eyes shut, pulling up his blanket. His breathing evens out as he falls asleep.

You smile as you look at his resting face, snuggling closer to him as you think; god, how did i get this lucky

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Hiiii! I saw you asked for fluffy requests!! I love your writing so i got excited hehe

I just went through a ROUGH breakup, could you write where Levi comforts one of his scouts (or members of his squad) who he likes after she gets dumped?

Thank you!!! Xoxo ❤️❤️❤️

Hey I hope you're feeling better I'm sorry you have to go through this but I'm here if you need anything sweet anon, this really made me write hurt/comfort once again, so I hope you like it.

Pairing: Levi/reader

Tags: eventual fluff, hurt/comfort, takes an unexpected turn that I hope you like

November Sunsets

Levi, ever since he could remember himself, was lonely, neglected by life and stripped of anyone he ever cared about. The cruel unfairness of life was something he was forced to accept from the moment he came out of the womb; whilst other children had a last name to claim themselves with he was just Levi, Kuchel's bastard son.

Thinking back, life was the most unfair for his mother as well. The way he would hear men would treat her, hidden underneath her bed, or sticking his head to her door while supposedly playing with other little bastard children. Children of his fate that he couldn't remember the face of. Did anyone remember his own face? Deemed ugly, unbelievably short, dirty and incapable of being bright, that's what life had set for him from his very first breath.

Everytime he had refused to accept his fate another tragedy would curve it's way on his body and soul, staining him with little reminders of how he should sit back and crawl his way through what was simple meant to be. Indescribable gory deaths had happened before his eyes, taking any blue hue he had noticed and liked away from them. Insufferable agonies in the form of nightmares haunted him during the night, his mind didn't want to let him rest.

His heart had to become cold and hard as stone, but the humane of his nature only managed to plaster this longing of his on his face. Perhaps being human was a punishment everyone endured, whether they were born noble, loved by everyone or in a brothel, with almost no one to want them in this world.

Only two years after he had set foot and is remaining days in the Survey Corps were never certain. He was aware that it was a given profanity at his agreement to join, and egoistically he would have chose this any other day over counting down days in the underground. In that rat hole, he was expected to fall ill and possibly dead at any given time in his late twenties.

He still looked like a phantom in the mirror. Whatever concluded his being was set and done unfairly, from the way his skin was as pale as snow and so sheer that made his purple veins show practically everywhere to his lacking height caused by malnutrition and lack of sunlight. Was it the veins around his lips or the ones under his eyes that perfectly blended with his sacked under eyebags? Was it that his nose was small if looked individually but looked elongated in the context of his face? Maybe it was that he was filled with scars.

Oh, and that he looked atrocious with those dark locks in combination with light eyes.

Despite never doubting his abilities, or letting insecurities get the better of him it was in moments like this that he felt broken.

By setting his clippers down on the sink, after making sure there was no single coarse hair on them, he slipped in his usual light gray button down shirt. He didn't bother to secure any strap of his gear on him yet; it was this early in the morning that no one was probably awake yet, only him and his throbbing head, so strapping himself with the gear could easily be avoided for the time being.

The flames flickered inside his cobblestone fireplace demanding to be fed with fresh logs in exchange for his warmth. His hands worked mechanically, throwing logs I the crevice delicately careful not to fill the room in ashes. With a maneuver stir the flames roared with rage, engulfing the wood almost too pleasantly to eye. He didn't hesitate to plouch down on the wooden floor, legs crossed and hands stretched towards the newfound warmth in an attempt to ease the lingering cold of his fingers.

Usually this was the time for the first tea of the day. Under any other occasion his brain would munch on him for the lack of the hot copper liquid in his stomach, but today was different. He contemplated on weather this mere fire could ever warm up anything other than tea but he refused to seek the therapeutic feeling of hot water entering his body. If he couldn't warm up on the outside why would he put any effort to do so in the inside.

The throbbing in his head ravaged the insides of his skull with striking rushes of pain at random places. When he went to rub on his forehead his ear would screech in ache, testing to see if his patience could handle such tag game.

Refusing to soothe any part of his aching body meant that he'd have to physically suffer throughout the upcoming day. Had he been any more grumpier he would be thinking about assigning everyone with another cleaning task, nontheless it didn't fit the nature of his mood. He felt like locking himself in his office to avoid as much human interaction as possible, he wasn't social to begin with so why shouldn't he be granted some days to recharge his ability to utter anything else than a grunt.

He sighed, head falling to face the floor as his eyes were framed by his ebony locks. He seemed to despise them, today more than ever. Was it because of you? It was a question that puzzled his mind for a couple of days, eating away any spare piece of logic he was ever left with. The only thing he knew, or supposed was that this feelings were probably meant to feel like that, at least for him.

Him, who shall never enjoy a simple pleasure of life such as experiencing the feeling of falling in love and having a lover to tend to his soul's wound. Of course he had to be dense enough to let such opportunity go as only a question arose days after day he'd spent with you. Did he deserve to be loved?

Yet those days with you, those days that he cut absurdly were fidgeting with his mind in the worst way possible, trying to torment him over the memory of your face.

It had started off as a simple admiration of your combat skills. The intimidating brushes oh your skin on his everytime he chose to spare with you out of all member in his squad, the sweat that dripped off of your forehead as your eyes gleamed with the enthusiastic power gathered in your fists.

Then, it was the way your hair flipped off of your shoulder when you would wrap your camel colored jacket on your form under the lingering tingerine lights of the sun setting behind the walls. The way it bounced on your back as you gripped the reins of your horse, leaving small encouraging sounds of victory as it seceeded its training tasks. He had taken notice of how well kept your hair was, always fresh and squeaky clean as it framed your face loosely.

Levi was smitten, wrap around your little finger in the blink of an eye, his nights agonising, his days filled with you mellowy blendind in any scenery and he couldn't get you out of his head. Your affections towards him were meticulously counted at first but he had sat back down and watched as you let yourself go around him, sparring smiles and watery glances to him during meals.

Before he knew it he had found himself longing to be in your arms every single moment of the day, much like a lovestruck teenager. As much as it seemed embarrassing for a man his age to swoon and melt like a candle at the sight of such youthful and sweet woman, he couldn't help it. His loner's manners had started to abandon him in your presence, the persuasion of your soft eyes had him giving in. The sweet touches of your hand on his cheek, allowing his head to rest on your palm as he talked about the enormous work Erwin had assigned him with, curved in his head forever, replaying every time he seeked some form of comfort.

Had it not been for Mike and Hange entering his office unexpectedly that one day he had forgotten to lock, he wouldn't have been forced to leave it all behind to avoid spoiling both his and yours reputation. It haunted him; they way he longed for you as his heart clung into his chest like a prisoner, but his words to you as you cried your eyes out that sunset kept reminding him he was not deserving of anything.

When news spread like a plague in the higher ranks everyone had turned on him and seldomly to you, whispering heart rotting comments. Among them that you were no good for eachother be it due to appearances or the context of your backgrounds. Levi knew the oxymoron of those dynamics, yet why did anyone have to point them out, to make him feel smaller than he was whether it was for teasing or not, he couldn't phantom.

Not only life was unfair to him, he had to strip his own self of the only thing he had a positive effect in his life just to go back to being a what the Scouting Region wanted him to be. Humanity's Strongest. The man with no weaknesses who slaughtered the gigantic beasts with skill and determination. His heart was supposed to belong to humanity, not you, not anyone else.

It hurt. To watch you give out your beautiful giggles to someone else through his office window ached him restlessly. The imagery of your sweet affectionate movements was right before his eyes, directed to someone else this time, during those beautiful November sunsets felt like gunshots aimed anywhere in his vital organs.

You had fallen for someone else, those were the news going around the squad lately. Petra bubbled enthusiastically about Gunther's encounters with you in the small alleyways of Trost on your day offs. Eld would scold you for dressing up appropriately for your dates and Oluo would miserably immitate him, giving you playful comments about reeking shit while biting his tongue. As Petra had informed him, his affiliations with you unbeknownst to her or any other cadet in the picture, Gunther was treating you perfectly, almost too good to be true. Something that made his heart fall into pits of darkness, all masked safely by his humane flesh and skeleton combines.

Would anyone ever treat you like he did? With such serenity? He knew, despite how short lived your fling had ever been, there would never be anyone like him in your life. And for that he had to be the one to punish himself. His fate would be pleased if he turned on himself wouldn't it?

Upon hearing the knock on his door, his mouth automatically spat the familiar inquiry on the knocker's intentions. It felt deaf to his ears; his mind was working on its own while he forced it to torment him with more what ifs. As his fingers brushed brushed underneath his nostril to scratch away any awkwardness that had gathered in the spot with a buzzing feeling.

"It's cadet (L/n) sir" he heard you yelp as you paused, unsure of what to say next. "Personal business if you don't mind!"

When you entered at his command, his eyes didn't dare to spend a second fixated on your bouncing locks. Instead they blinked into your (e/c) ones, staring at the melancholic expression that was plastered on them. Lower on your face, your lip trembled, teeth biting hard not to allow it to show but your efforts had already fell into vain as he quickly noticed it.

He hadn't realised you weren't sitting on the chair before his desk until he got up from his position on the ground, eyes immediately noticing you in his usual spot. You were curled up in a ball with your knees fitted to your eye sockets, silently suppressing what seemed to be the start of a brawling session as he sat there and watched, not daring to touch your back with his hand.

What had happened so early in the morning that had sent you in his office? The two of you weren't much on talking terms nowadays, a restriction he had forced on you from the day that he ended your shared endearments. As potential scenarios chewed on his thoughts your whimpers only grew louder and harsher.

"Don't you dare ask why I'm crying!" You spoke, small hiccups leaving the back of your throat as each time it roared with another wave of sorrow.

"It could be helpful to know."

His steel eyes never met yours as he spoke with his typical steady voice, although this time he had tried to take any nasal sound away from it.

"You're the reason I can't have anything work for me. Gunther said so himself." Another crashing wave of sobs overcame you and he watched frozen, unable to do anything just yet. Confirmation on your status had to be spoken, he wouldn't love to be touchy with another man's woman even if ever cell in his body ached for her.

"You're achingly beautiful, my heart will forever be yours and you knew it. Gunther' isn't fit to be a replacement for you. You get to be the one who comforts me for this breakup, for our breakup up, I can't talk about that shit with anyone else. You're all I ever had and you left me to pretend to be that weapom they want you to be." He had expected you to winch, to flinch or have any negative reaction to his touch on the back of your head, he had prepared himself for it, he had planned the words he'd say but such a reaction never came. You only have in to his lingering touch, hand reaching out for his in an attempt to pull him close.

He didn't feel the pain of his knees hitting the wooden floor as he coarsed you to his neck in full might, he ignored the heart that beat fast at the sound of you admitting you weren't over him, he chewed back at the thoughts that mocked you for calling him achingly beautiful.

The fidgeting of your fingers on the button of his shirt served as an action of your nervousness but all he could care about was that he could feel your heart beating at the right side of his chest almost in synch with his.

"I'm here." He soothed, one hand running through your soft locks as the other one pressed you to his chest. "I'm sorry" he admitted. Whether it was too late was up to your heart's desire to decide.

"You better be." You sniffled the goo that threatened to fall on his shirt.

"You should know by now. I can't bear to watch you thrive with anyone. Tch, I'm a smug runt myself for that."

He fell in silence as you tried to give into his caring comfort. It all felt too familiar, too rushed and too bitterweet to be real. He blinked at the thought and slightly bit his tongue to confirm he wasn't sleeping.

"I thought we belonged together, I thought... I thought I found something in you that was mine."

As your eyes brawled with hit tears once again your fists came to clench onto his shirt. There were distinguishable pauses in your crying; rashes of unspoken pain inside your chest that burned you to think about. It was all too familiar of a feeling to him and it only ever made him press you impossibly closer to his form.

"If it helps, I did so too."

It's only when your face lifts up for your wide eyes to look into his that he realises how much you've cried. Despite the practical darkness of the room your eyes are obviously bloodshot, painted with agony as they burn holes onto his skin, making him shut his in defense of his soul.

"I miss you so much and I can't sleep at night. I can't look at anyone and pretend they are you, they all see through this. I still love you and it hurts. I don't want it to hurt, Levi." Your confessions striked that particular nerve in him that made him numb, frozen on the spot, dumfounded over your words. Had he knew he'd be the reason that love pains you he would have never lead you on, he would have never looked at you with small looks of adoration as you ride your horse's together and most importantly he would have never let his filthy lips touch your angelic ones.

But he didn't find it in him to regret any of his actions.

Not now, not when his lips were begging him to be interlocked with the only pair then had declaired a match.

"I know I came here all of a sudden but it's been nights I haven't slept and I can't do this anymore. J-just hold me and once the sun is out I won't bother you anymore." Even if you tried to speak that nonsense with him you should have known better that it wouldn't work. He could already see the faint purples in the horizon, glazing over the glass of his windows as they lightened by every passing moment.

He knew why you were in his arms, he knew that pushing you away was never an option either. Thus, his hands came to rest under your face your face to tenderly direct it to his. His mouth opened but the words that he spoke took hours, years, eons to come out.

"What if I told you that I still love you, what would you say? Would you press your lips on mine and want to start over?" He inquired as he swallowed the hard lamp that had gathered in his Adams apple. "Would you speak your words in actions?"

The first light of the sky protruded behind the mountains, spreading a yellow light evenly around the sky. As you nodded and tugged your head close enough that your nose touched, your lips faintly brushed against each other's and his heart sped in unimaginable paces.

In the moment he wasn't a doomed underground ugly thug, his nose wasn't misplaced on the context of his head. He wasn't just Kuchel's bastard son that everyone wanted dead. He was that part that you had claimed as yours.

Small victories against his fate didn't always leave him hollow with unbearable loss after all.

My requests are always open, if you want to drop anything I'd be more than happy to write what you want ❤️

[teenyweenynightghost]

Oh ho ho y’all

So i remember reading this prompt about a temperature complaint, so 😇

It’s an unbearably hot summer night

You and the band had the dumbass idea to go camping

Which essentially meant that you were getting cooked in those tents

You being a lucky gal

Y’a got to bunk with Vic😉

But you were bothered by how hot it was

You’re never one to shy away from being pissy

So you voice your dissatisfaction

“Vic, it’s fucking hoT”

“I can feel that”

“Ughh”

5 minutes pass

“Vic i think i’ve lost half of my bodyweight in sweat”

“I am trYIng to sLeeP but you are making it AWFULLY impossible”

Another grunt

So you twist and turn

Throw away the blankets

Pray it’s gonna rain

But no luck

After about another hour you sigh a few times

Feeling Vic shift next to you you know she is awake

“Its fucking HOT”

Oh and that’s the last straw for Vic

Jumping on top of you and pinning all your limbs down, breathing heavily

“If you complain about it being hot one more time, i will give you a reason to be hot”

Her breath warm and quick on your neck, heating you up even more

But hey, who were you to deny a hot girl from fucking you

So you decided to be a sweet little angel

And mouthed “im hot”

And oh ho ho

Her lips were on yours in a second, rough and fast

She let go of your hands and slid them down your body

Dangerously close to your chest

She bit your lip like it was a brick, leaving a trickle of blood

Which she licked off while staring right into your eyes

Further bringing your attention to her hands, which were now massaging your boobs

She felt you whimper as she teased you, so she squeezed your nipple, and at that you moaned

“Unlike you, cucciola, the others can sleep. So unless you want attention from more than one person, ste zitto”

You would very much not mind that

But nontheless

She continued teasing your nipple and biting your neck, until you starting thrusting upward trying to get her to focus on your growing heat

She chuckled and looked back at her masterpiece

Masterpiece being the numerous amounts of hickeys left on your neck

Then she started trailing kisses down your body, capturing your nipples in her mouth and licking them, one at a time

Then further down your stomach and then as a not so pleasant change of direction

Up your thighs

At this point you were willing to beg

But you’re one stubborn mf (at least i am) so boo, we’re gonna suffer in silence

After what felt like forever

SHE FINALLY GOT DOWN😏

You’d think she had to run a marathon

It really was not that big of a distance

And the added time only made you more sensitive

At the first swipe, you were just about to scream

And if not now

Then she definitely had you screaming a few minutes later

She kept rubbing your clit as your rode out your orgasm

And then finally calmed down

Realizing that you were hotter than ever

But this time you knew better than to say it again

She held your hand and gently brushed it with her thumb

As you both fell asleep😜

Was it kida chaotic? Perhaps. It does not concern me anymore

[goji-pilled]

MK-S: Sees talk about how the word “Psycho” is stigmatized. Looks at the anthropomorphized poster of the famous 1960 horror film “Psycho” awkwardly twiddling its thumbs. “…Uh, are you sure that word isn’t already beyond saving?”

(As a sidenote, I feel that most people at least imagine a difference when hearing the word “Psycho” (which conjures up mental images of “The Shining”) and the terms “psychopathy”/“Psychosis” (which conjures up sympathy for someone suffering from a mental condition, as well as terminology of mental health professionals.)

Just because the stigma already exists doesnt mean you have to continue using it. That'd be like "Oh but back in my days we used [insert slur] here, this generation is way too soft"

And unfortunatly the first thing many people think of when they hear things like "Psycho", "Psychopath", etc. will be some brutal, terrible murderer and not someone who suffers from mental illness and nontheless deserves help and kindness.

[captainjimothycarter]

Modern Steggy where Steve is Cap and he meets Peggy later in life.

Much later.

Where shes assigned to be his liason, help him adjust to the future. She refuses to allow Fury to put him through that ridiculous test because "that man has suffered enough". She tells him about the future and slowly gets him used to it.

She lets him mourn because the man needs to mourn. Hes lost everything.

She helps him heal because being frozen for so long doesn't mean you'll be back on your feet so soon. Its physical therapy, working on food again after an appetite will be slow, getting him warmer, used to the cold. Nightmares. The guy tries to play it off but sleeping on the couch or in the room next to his means she knows hes lying.

She doesnt push.

When hes ready, she moves him into her apartment. Not that she doesnt think he cant be by himself but because shes almost selfish, plus, Steve admits he likes her company. It helps him adjusts better.

Shes there when the public tries to pull stunts, she teams up with Pepper to get things set straight.

When shield falls, Steve suspects her to be Hydra. For one second until guilt washes over him because no, she couldn't. She isnt like that. And Peggy tells him straight. Shes not mad he assumrd. Hurt. But she understands. She helps him bring shield down nontheless.

Make this a soulmate au tho. Where one can feel their soulmates pain and pleasure and shes always felt his cold. Shes the reason hes found.

[unlimitedfateimagines]

Last Stardust | Emiya (Archer)

Ask: Hi! May I please request some angst for Archer Emiya? Ah, sorry that this isn’t specific!

Sent by: Anon

A/N: thank you for requesting!! this was one of the rqs i never rly got to write from my old blog but always had so many ideas for it hdkjsvh i hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Angst, character death

Emiya sighed as he sat up on his bed, his fingers threading through his hair as beads of sweat rolled down his face. He looked around and found himself in a large bed, surrounded by white walls, with a night table and an empty glass of water beside him.

“Good grief,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed over the white covers and walked out of his room. “The same dream again and again. Is this perhaps a gift from Satan himself? Or a punishment from the gods themselves for continuing down the path I have chosen?”

HIs elbows rested on his knees as he looked down at the floor. He vividly remembers everything, down to every little detail. He remembers being surrounded by fire as a kid, laying down helplessly in the middle of the raging flames of Fuyuki, on the brink of death, his throat and lungs burning. He remembers seeing the tall buildings and street lamps collapsing down on him, crushing his little and fragile body.

He remembers the desperate cries of a man clad in a black trench coat, yelling at the top of his lungs. He remembers the man’s begs and pleas for someone — anyone — to answer him back in the fiery chaos. “Is there anyone out there? Please, answer me! Someone! Anyone!”

He remembers how desperate he was to respond to the cries of that unknown man, but the burning pain if his throat and lungs from inhaling the smoke prevented him from doing so, leaving him trapped under the debris with all hope lost until the man finally started digging and throwing objects aside. “Why is he doing that?” his past self thought. “Why is he so desperate?”

He remembers the dull eyes he had when gazing up at the purple sky and the relieved face of a man who cried “Oh thank goodness, you’re alive! You’re alive!” when he had seen the young boy’s face. The man took the boy’s — Emiya’s hand — in his and placed it against his cheek, leaning in the touch as tears began streaming down his face. The man didn’t seem to care that Emiya was covered in dirt and ash, his expression was one of joy and relief that he has found someone else that was alive.

He then learnt that the man’s name was Kiritsugu Emiya when he visited him at the hospital and brought him back to his home as his son, both being greeted by a young girl named Taiga Fujimaru.

He remembers sitting next to Kiritsugu on the engawa, late at night, watching the fireflies, talking about each of their dreams.

“Well then, I’ll become a hero of justice!” Shirou had said with such enthusiasm.

He saw Kiritsugu smile at him lovingly as the old man leaned against the shogi doors and drew his last breath.

Emiya closed his eyes as he sat up and headed out, walking down the halls of Chaldea to the kitchen to refill his glass of water.

After refilling, he took a seat on one of the numerous chairs in the dining room, seeing his own face reflected in the water. He saw his own pained expression and his messy and disheveled hair.

The dream was still vivid in his mind. Although he wouldn’t call it a dream anymore, he’s rather call it a flashback and a punishment.

He saw the events of the Fifth Holy Grail War in a flash, seeing his younger self with Saber, the King of Knights, fighting side by side, but failed to save her heart when he finally understood the King of Knights. He remembers the Tohsaka girl who he frequently saw at Homurahara Academy. He remembers the Matou girl who visited his house daily.

He remembers the contract he made with the World, Alaya, in order to pursue his dreams to become a hero of justice and save humanity, continuing his dreams and in hopes of following the same path as his adoptive father, Kiritsugu Emiya.

Lastly, he remembers when everyone had turned their back against him. He remembers questioning the authorities, asking what had he done wrong when he was saving everyone and becoming a hero of justice, when he simply fought a war to hopefully bring an end to it; not to be labelled as the one who was pulling the strings from behind. He remembers his last moments, in front of a crowd, standing on top of a gallows, a noose around his neck as the last moments of his clock ticked down to zero.

Emiya sighed again as he downed another cup of water before heading back to his room. He stopped by a large window, gazing up at the stars in the indigo night sky.

He vowed to himself as he would stop anyone from following the same path as his and suffer the same consequences as him and persuade them to think of something else. He didn’t want anyone to repeat the same mistakes as he did nor suffer the same fate as he did.

Yet he failed once again, seeing, you, his Master so determined to save the world. While it may not be the same as being a hero of justice, the idea of saving everyone — with the help of the Grail — was still an idea that could possibly evolve into becoming an ally of justice. He wanted to try and persuade them, yet he failed. Your determined and unwavering resolve shook something within him, which prompted him to accompany you nontheless.

He should’ve saved you from falling too deep, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to when you were so hopeful and seeing how everyone was so hopeful to save humanity, but he should’ve done that from the beginning.

He remembers seeing your blood on his hands, his eyes wide with shock and anger as your body was just a few metres away, laying in a pool of your own blood, a sword’s tip pointing and gleaming under the moonlight, holding up its place in your chest, the blood still seeping out and staining your clothes.

He knew the outcome would’ve been something similar to this, yet he allowed himself to sit back and enjoy the ride anyways.

He should’ve stopped you, but he didn’t. How could he, when you seemed so hopeful? How could he stop you when you were so determined and had so much faith in yourself? He still remembers the last words you muttered to him before you drew your last breath. “Archer… No… Emiya… Thank you… I had… a great time…”

He remembers wanting to scream and curse the gods for being so stupid, so foolish. He gripped his hands into fists and looked up at the skies, seeing the stars.

“It must be nice up there, when every star has someone in the vast sky,” he had muttered to himself as realization hit him that his last star had faded away in front of him.