#letters to a character

[dawn-t0-dusk]

#91: familiarly, me

There’s something familiar-              And maybe its the way you speak             Or maybe its that you hide behind your lies             But I see myself reflected in your shapes and lines.

Be honest.             It still stings, doesn’t it?             It isn’t so easily forgotten or forgiven. It makes your blood boil.             Underneath the instinct to forgive-                          There is still something you want to hide.             I know its there and i know the struggle,                          Because I’m the same.

Truthfully,             You are afraid, aren't you?             Under your apathy-             Under that mask of boredom and disinterest.                          There is only a subtle fear.             It’s a flimsy act of a child,                          “If the monsters don’t see me                                       Then I’m safe”?                          It’s foolish.             And yet-

You can say it.             You don’t have to pretend             You don’t have to give it up for everyone else’s sake. Its annoying,             Why isnt this something you understand?             But, even as I say it-                          Even as I criticize                          A part of me has realized             The real reason im angry-                          It’s because when I look at you                          It’s like I’m looking at myself through someone else’s eyes.

[inkstainednote]

Escapism (the yellow notebook collectives #3) {tws in tags}

Dear [redacted],

I didn't think of a poetic way to open this letter or well I did but I thought it stupid and scraped it during the transfer. If you want to know, it was of a problem I have already fixed.

There is no real reason I am writing you you at the moment other than the simple truth of me not having anyone else to write to. The loneliness is getting suffocating. I feel like I asphyxiate inside a locked room with its walls closing in a round me and the exit being too far away and constantly shrinking slowly but in a way that it's painfully clear that if I ever reach it, I will no longer fit through it. I cannot do anything but try to reach it in time and yet I never will.

Everything around me, dear, is too real or not real enough. Every morning I open my eyes and I realize my life is getting worse by the day and I hate it a little bit more. I'm unable to feel happiness by the things that used to provide me with it and escapism is becoming less intense and satisfactory and harder to achieve.

I suppose other people dive into alcoholism or substance abuse to find what is missing but I.... I find my escape through fiction. It is addicting. It takes you through space and time in different worlds, other's points of view, places where perhaps I'd be happier, healthier. Places where I could be full. Fiction offers me the relief of living as somebody else, a different person, a character who might be happy or at the very least not numb -if only for a while.

At times I find myself believing I'm a fictional character myself or maybe hoping that I could be. And then I proceed to violently hate myself for it because it is a thought not based on logic or facts but feelings and I am clever enough to not think with those. Scepticism and logic is how I survive. I protect myself by not being a dreamer, an emotional person, someone who believes in myths and fantasies and it works.

Of course even my ridiculous thoughts, dear [redacted], -and what you might think of me now, after that admission of disgust for anything magical or illogical- have a basis. It's not as much a basis, actually, it's more of a thin thread that they are woven into in order to keep me from diving into insanity. Because, you see, everything is a coping mechanism for me. Another protection measure, another way to hide from what hurts. My imagination then, is a desperate though futile, attempt to reason my existence. To understand why I turned out like this.

You see, I am not a person who cares. Apathy is so deeply encarved into my everything, like an infection and most days I think it's too late for me to find meaning in anything. However I eventually realised that it doesn't stretch onto fiction. I care, I feel for characters that are not real, for circumstances that have never happened and never will, for families and couples that don't exist and I even mourn deaths that haven't killed anyone. I have shed more tears onto a page of a book describing the tragic death of a young prince in the arms of his estranged king father's in a medieval, horrid kingdom than any event in my own life for the past five years. I feel heart-warmed when two characters find true love in each other after a long period of misunderstandings and trauma and yet romance I cannot feel for myself. I put the general well-being of a book character I like than of most people I know in reality.

There might be various medical terms to describe a condition such as mine, but all I know, dear [redacted], is that I can be described perfectly by the word miserable.

Love,

Inkstain

[1alchemistart]

dont got much to offer for The Holiday but have these sillies!

happy valentines day :D

[magic-worms]

trying to articulate my thoughts on the 7th tf2 comic confirmation by using the tf2 characters to articulate those thoughts

[dykepaldi]

homestuck was so perfect for autistic teenagers bc it took characters being sorted into categories and having Attributes to its absolute extreme. forget four hogwarts houses, every character has their associated colour their zodiac sign their associated animal their dream planet their god tier class and aspect their typing quirk their pesterchum handle their weapon their planet of x and y, as well as each of them having a handful of other very quantifiable Personality Traits and Interests (e.g. this one is a clown this one is angry this one likes fashion this one is just rufio from hook for some reason) and THEN they all also have their respective ancestors and dancestors(?)(plucked that word from my memory) who have all of those things as WELL

and god not to mention the fucking quadrant system

as a 13-15 year old autistic kid i didnt even need homestuck to have a plot i just happily made a big big spreadsheet of character attributes in my brain

[sarahdraws16]

Big eyes

[cup-o-stars]

I loved Fan Letter :(

[cassandraclare]

letters unsent

Ty, Ty, Ty.

Your name looks strange written out like that. Like an abbreviation. But Tiberius would be so formal. I never think of you that way. Or, I suppose I should say, I never thought of you that way. Tenses matter in these situations, I guess.

It’s late, past midnight, and I’m sitting on the windowsill in my bedroom at Cirenworth....

[jadewritesficshere]

Steddie soulmate AU where Eddie is a famous musician, everyone assumes he doesn't have a soulmate. Eddie was just smart and doesn't confirm, doesn't want to go through rabid fans who claim to be his soulmate. He's had too many show up wearing his initials they tattooed on themselves even before he was asked about soulmates in an interview.

Enter Steve Harrington who works as a nurse. Just casually on his third nightshift in a row in the ER. Sipping some coffee trying not to fall asleep when they get the call about some confidential patient coming in.

Eddie comes in for some injury. Steve has 0 clue who he is, just says "You look familiar, did we go to school together?" And Eddie practically falls off the stretcher at Steve's feet. Goes all googoo eyes at him. Steve being mildly concerned because Eddie's heart rate keeps skyrocketing (its because Steve is touching him).

One of the other nurses can't help but try and get the gossip from Steve, who is very much confused as to why she cares about this random patient. She tells Steve who Eddie is, and he's just like ???? Okay???

Steve doesn't admit it but the picture she shows is HOT. It's Eddie, flipping off the camera, tongue out. He's covered in tattoos, including the word 'sorry' written in a weird script on his middle finger. He's shirtless and his pants are so low that Steve can see the dip of his hips creating a v and-

Steve has to walk into the supply room to get himself under control. Pretends it doesn't mean anything and goes back to his job as his heart thuds rapidly in his chest.

Eddie tries not to pass out when they draw his blood, Steve holds his hand. It feels right. Eddie can't help wanting to ask," Hey, do you have a soulmate?" But he hates being asked that question, so he won't.

Until Steve bends over, his scrub top lifting up slightly. Eddie can't help glancing at his ass, but then he can't breathe. Because on his lower back is the initials EJM.

"Steve G. H?" Eddie asks as his voice goes up an octave. Steve turns, bewildered ," How did you-?" "Edward James Munson." Eddie whispers.

Oh

[ervotica]

i feel like art would have a babbling problem. like, he can’t stfu the closer he gets to cumming, so you have fun finding different ways to occupy his mouth while you suck him off or ride him. first instinct is sitting on his face or shoving your fingers in his mouth

// MDNI; art donaldson x reader

warnings; smut, oral (m receiving), praise, fluffy af ending, light dom/sub undertones, sub!art, art definitely has a praise kink i don’t make the rules 🫡

Art has always been loud— loud on the court, grunting and groaning as he plays, loud when he’s kissing you, breathy whines and gasps that you swallow greedily with your own mouth.

But most importantly, he’s loud in bed.

You always know when he’s about to cum; those corded thighs tighten around your head, back arching from the bed. His lips- rubied and swollen from your greedy mouth against his own- part around a moan, a drawn out whine, and an outright shout when your tongue laves across the tip of his weeping cock, drooling and flushed from your attention.

“Baby, baby, please,” he babbles. “Need it so bad. Gonna fuckin’ cum, please, baby.”

One of your manicured hands drags its way up his glistening chest, slick with sweat and littered with dark marks from your hungry teeth. He moans again, and you part his lips with a gentle thumb, pressing two digits flat against his tongue; he takes them greedily, suckling against the curve of your knuckles as you work him over with your other hand. You resist the urge to roll your eyes— always so obedient.

“Good boy,” you giggle. “Pretty baby.” He whines. You soothe him with a kiss to the tip of his cock.

His hips sporadically jerk as you seal your lips over him, sinking downward until the heavy length of him is settled snugly in your mouth. His chest stutters, a bare leg twining under your arm and round your waist until his heel presses into the base of your spine.

You know he’s cumming before he does.

His breath seizes, missing a beat. The muscles in his thighs tighten as he grinds further upwards into your warm mouth, and then he’s spilling into you with a sob.

His mouth is a wet throbbing around your knuckles, tips of your fingers still pressed to the dip of his tongue. You coast your thumb over the underside of his chin, pressing to the hollow of his throat— he preens under the attention.

“Shh, shh,” you coax. He bends at the waist, hooking a lithe hand under each of your armpits, and you’re dragged up and over his front until you’re nose to nose.

“Baby,” he sighs, nuzzling his cheek against your own. “Love you.”

“Love you too, pretty baby,” you coo. He’s almost limp underneath your weight, eyes half lidded and crinkling at the corners. “Can I have a kiss?”

He melts.

“You can have anything you want. C’mere.”

[epiclad]

"Have you ever…heard any strange sounds here at the manor? Something beyond the walls, like breathing, or slithering scales…"

[theoldkyokodied]

[Hi Dennis. How was the lion feeding?...?]

This has been something I've been working on for quite a while now, as some people who look at my insta story might know, but I'm finally done!! those text messages from s14ep5 are so unhinged, they haunt me every goddamn day. To drop "i love you so much" just to follow it with what essentially is a "no homo.. for u... even tho u r so hot and i like you so much!". exploading them with my mind into a million pieces, okay?

[alexfoundausername]

The way he smiles at everyone

[cloudabserk]

if you feed naruto. then he’ll know you love him

[andaniellight]

Being besties with your neighbor who used to be a swaddled, drooling baby just hits different for sure

[kimdokjas]

@animangacreators challenge ⟡ spring 2024

↳ WIND BREAKER

You haven't given up on others yet. And you don't need to give up. At the least I'm looking your way, Sakura. So why don't you look this way as well? If you do, I'm sure… you'll become what you want to be.