#this post is also about one time i saw someone say they had seen a production of hamlet

[alacants]

The source of those rumors is a guy from Carlos's family's tennis club who is close to Kiko Navarro & knows some members of Carlos's team & is a regular collaborator with Punto de Break. According to him (he's said this before) Carlos & Juanki had a significant fight towards the end of 2023. But the claim that they nearly split up back then came from someone else who's less reliable.

As for 2025, the first guy says Carlos's dad has apparently not been happy with what Juanki is doing for a while... but it seems like Carlos doesn't agree. If things don't turn around after clay season his family might push for changes to the team.

From my perspective it's hard to understand the coaching strategy sometimes. Like you said Juanki's strength is not tactics but it seems like that's what Carlos really needs. This is just one example but I think it's crazy that he sat on court in silence for three sets without suggesting Carlos change his return position v Djokovic - Carlos eventually figured it out... in the last game of the match. And that was honestly the main factor in him losing. You could argue Juanki wanted him to figure it out himself but why on earth did they not discuss that beforehand when it also cost him massively at the Olympics (which Carlos said he didn't even think about before the match?)

I know Juanki's whole thing is treating team like family but there are a lot top coaches who say that after 5ish years a coach has nothing to give a player anymore & I wonder if their partnership has run its natural course. Carlos doesn't seem any more tactically equipped than he was two years ago & his technicals have mostly not improved either (return... backhand...).

thanks for this background - after replying to some earlier asks i dug around and saw some folks citing punto de break but not any specifics so this is appreciated. this does immediately increase the credibility to me bc i know pdb values their access and would not jeopardize it for nothing lmao. tho if it's like, a guy who sometimes writes for them and is mostly posting on his own time... i guess that's somewhere in the middle. (btw i still haven't seen anything other than reports of reports of reports? if you've got links i would very much appreciate them!)

as usual i think we're looking at two questions here: could carlos benefit from a different coach, and does carlos want a different coach.

i think we are all in agreement that for carlos to continue to develop as a player he needs something he's not getting at the moment, whether we're thinking in terms of incorporating a new addition to the team or making a wholesale switch. and i don't disagree with you at all about the natural lifespan of a coaching relationship. i've cited this before in discussions of juanki's own career (stuck with one guy; was it a mistake?) and of ferru's (split but waited too long; chalked the delay up to personal feelings).

but as long as it's presented to carlos as an all-or-nothing choice i don't think he's there yet and i would not be surprised to find out that his recent post-match declarations were a message. (tbc it very much MIGHT be an all-or-nothing choice, regulars here know i have plenty of thoughts about the academy lmao.)

the thing is that at this point the unknowns are still really, really risky. if you've had the same coach for most of your teen/adult years and you're ready to strike out and try something new, then that's exciting and stimulating and you're in a good place to make the best of it. but if you're dragging your feet? if you feel like you've been pushed? maybe someone else could give you more, but you have to be ready to receive it, you know? if you're an environment that you know enables you overall to perform at a high level (4 grand slams), where you feel overall confident and supported even if you're lacking direction in some big matches, where you get value from your coach's presence above and beyond the specifics of tennis--it is inherently going to be a risk to make a big change and if you're not all in on doing so the risks will be even more likely to find you.

that's why i keep saying is that i don't see it happening unless carlos' results gets much worse than this--or, potentially, unless a voice that holds as much weight with him as juanki's (so, his dad) gets strong enough that he listens to it. that might be where we're headed!

(incidentally i have feinted at this without saying so explicitly, but there is an unbelievable amount of money riding on carlos' success or lack thereof--i don't mean prize money, i mean his brand as a star--and it would be naive to pretend that's not a factor in decision-making. that's one of the reasons i've pointed to a sustained slump, rather than one or two disappointing slams. when the results start to affect the brand.)

just talked this over with friend who compared the ideal set-up to darren/simone for jannik--supervisory coach + tactical/court coach. if so, then the question is whether they come to that same conclusion and get the set-up in place before the decision is out of their hands, so to speak.

[mask131]

This is about Neil Gaiman's work - this is NOT about the rape accusations, but it is about the aftermath of them. I wanted to make a post for some times now about works you could read that were similar to Gaiman's works if you wanted to go see something akin to his fictional world without directly supporting him. Which would have been a VERY easy post since Gaiman kept listing everywhere the works that influenced directly or indirectly his own novels and creations. But I realized other people were already doing this, so I just thought "Heh, let's not bother with this".

And then I randomly stumbled upon this post which is trending on Tumblr. And this post got me a little mad. Because while I do agree that several of the facts in there should be more well-known and more talked about... I also think this post is quite unfair in its depiction of how Gaiman acted towards his inspirations.

People are currently screaming that Neil Gaiman plagiarized stuff by "taking huge inspiration from things and not crediting people". Except... he did credit people. It's just that his fans never bothered to go look for what inspired him. I was there back in the old days - so I saw exactly how it went. Don't start telling me Neil Gaiman purposefully stayed "silent" about the works that inspired him - I clearly saw how people were just apathetic. Myself when I compiled lists and made posts about all the works that preceeded Neil Gaiman or that he explained were his inspirations for things, people didn't bother and had no interest... but when I made a list of Gaiman's work suddenly everybody reblogged. Whether Gaiman plagiarized or not is not the thing I want to talk about today - but I want to HEAVILY criticize the way people are saying "Neil Gaiman never said he took X from X" when in fact, he did, and people were just too lazy to do their research. (Or, if you take the "Gaiman is a villain " angle, Gaiman counted on the fact people would not bother to read the original books and he won his bet!)

I am deeply sorry for this rant but it is a little trigger for me, since I have been studying and exploring the "chain" of inspirations and rewritings throughout literature and the fantasy genre (half for university work, half for personal hobby), and I have seen people literaly ignore all the bibliographies given to them under titles like "If you want to read more of the sort". [For example the original post talks about how Martin was very honest about how he took inspiration from Druon's book series. Fair. But nobody is talking about how he indeed kind of "plagiarized" Memory, Sorrow and Thorn. A lot of people don't know about this series, despite said series having literaly almost all of ASoIaF's supernatural - in fact, the reason Martin seems to be under-using his own supernatural creations, like the White Walkers, is precisely because they don't come from his mind and they are just a copy of Williams' Norns and he seems to not really know what to do with them. But that's a talk for another day.]

EDIT: I realized the post got very long, so all my personal objections and my argumentative points against the post I linked above will be under a cut. And if you want a conclusion to my long rant below the cut, it is this one: You can shit all you want about Gaiman, but at least get your facts right. It is not because someone turns out to be a bad person that you must feel the need to blast cultural misinformation. Heck, I will directly compare it to how the entire Internet wished and wanted Rowling to have "plagiarized" Gaiman's Books of Magic, because of their similarities, only for Gaiman himself to point out, no, it was not plagiarism, it was just a set of similarities and coincidences due to both works coming from a same British culture with a specific background in children literature and fantasy works. It just happened that people didn't know anything outside of Harry Potter and Gaiman's works and so assumed it was the only two pieces of a much vaster puzzle...

Yes, Neil Gaiman is very derivative. Yes he is very imitative. But he never hid it? He always said he was, he always pointed out the works that influenced him, he always listed the stuff that he based his own works upon - down to sometimes helping these works come out of obscurity when they were too forgotten (like the Lud-in-mist novel?). People are doing a "surprised Pikachu face" today but... he never hid his derivatiness. In fact it was a certain part of the "charm" people found in his work back in the days. He never hid anything, it's just that a lot of people didn't want to see it or didn't care about it...

Gaiman posted an entire page on his blog for American Gods (back in the early days of Internet, he had a blog to follow his writing process for American Gods, weeks after week, you can still find it somewhere) listing the three dozen of books that inspired him/that he took elements from/that he learned stuff from. People can accuse him of having plagiarized Zelazny's work in American Gods because of one scene - Wednesday having Shadow drive into the "Backstage", which is a rewrite of the "driving to Amber" scene from The Nine Princes of Amber. But the accusation of "plagiarism" becomes a bit muddled when you know that A) Gaiman has been screaming for years about how the main source of inspiration for American Gods were all of Zelazny's mythological works and B) He literaly dedicated American Gods to Zelazny, first page you open.

When does an homage becomes too much? When is plagiarism allowed? Is taking after public domain a bad thing? What are the moral consequences of your work overshadowing your source of inspiration? These are questions I am not wanting to answer today and this post isn't about them - plus things are even more complex when you remember Gaiman was one of the most fervent defensers and advocates of fanfiction, reacting positively to it and encouraging people to do it a lot ; as well as one of the main celebrities on Tumblr to warn people to NOT send him fanfics so that it wouldn't cause legal troubles of potential plagiarism.

Anyway, my actual angry rant is below.

I/ Tanith Lee and Sandman

The post that got me angry starts with Tanith Lee. I do agree that it is a shame Tanith Lee is not more talked about and didn't receive as much fame as she deserved. I do agree that Neil Gaiman's work was heavily inspired by Tanith Lee's writing. I do agree Gaiman's work overshadowed Lee's own (for a long time I didn't know she was the first one to do a vampiric Snow-White twist, before Gaiman's own). However I have to recuse the idea that Sandman is a rip-off of Tales from Flat-Earth.

It doesn't help that the person who made this original claim clearly doesn't know very much about either Lee's Flat-Earth or Gaiman's Sandman (with easy to debunk claims like how "Delusion" is one of Gaiman's Endless - no, the character does not exist). For example the poster rightfully compares how the top-dogs of the supernatural pantheon of Lee's Flat-Earth are the Masters of Night, Death and Delirium, wth the Master of Night's physical appearance echoing Dream of the Endless' appearance... However the comparison stops there, unlike what the poster tries to claim, because the Master of Night is a demon who rules over hatred, fear, curses and malevolence first and foremost - and is this world's equivalent of Satan/Iblis - and is not a personification of dreams, imaginations and sleep like Morpheus. Also, unlike what the OP claims, the Demon Princes are not like the Endless, "eternal entities beyond gods" - on the contrary, it is shown by book one the Demon Princes CAN be killed, and that there are gods who are a distinct species far above the Demons.

It is also incomplete to try to claim that having Dream and Death be siblings is a "proof" of Tanith Lee plagiarism... Because Gaiman is very explicit in his narrative of how Dream and Death are transpositions of the Thanatos & Hypnos/Thanatos & Morpheus twinship present in Greco-Roman mythology (Ovid's "Gates of Horn and Ivory" are literaly there in the first issues). Plus, since we do have the original manuscripts and the proposition draft Gaiman sent to DC (it is in the bonus of collected editions and in companion books), we know Gaiman originally had just three Endless in mind, Death, Dream (who was a reshape of DC's Sandman super-hero), and Destiny (who pre-existed in DC's universe), Delirium only coming far later.

That being said, I am feeling very sad for Tanith Lee through the testimony of her friend - how, again, she had trouble becoming a recognized author despite her work being very influential and frequently talked about for the fantasy genre (all the fantasy manuals and guides and encyclopedias of France list her among the authors to be read), and I do feel her distate for Neil Gaiman's work vampirizing hers is very justified. But to jump into saying Sandman is a copy-paste or a full on rip-off of Flat-Earth is unfair and very limiting. Flat-Earth was one of the inspirations of Sandman, but it doesn't own "everything" to it.

Plus, the OP also gets very angry at how Gaiman "never" talked about Tanith Lee and ... you know how I got to learn about Tanith Lee, and how I got encouraged to read her? Through Gaiman's Tumblr blog, where he regularly listed her as part of the authors that inspired him/the fantasy authors he enjoyed/the authors he encouraged others to read. I saw her appear like five different times on his Tumblr, and without him I probably wouldn't have started getting curous about her. So he did talk about her and he did present her as one of his inspirations and favorite authors... At least on Tumblr, and for several years.

II/ Coraline and Thief of Always

The comments mention Coraline and the Thief of Always as possibly being another "plagiarism" of Gaiman... I remember when Neil Gaiman was asked on his Tumblr about how similar Thief of Always and Coraline were, and he simply answered with the fact he and Barker had a similar thought process and came up with akin works though very different in the results.

You could say it is a form of copy or plagiarism (though Gaiman at least did an effort to make Coraline the almost opposite of Thief of Always in several ways). But I will have to point out that that Neil Gaiman and Clive Barker know each other, and that it has been reported, talked about and evoked a lot of times how they hanged in the same circles, with the same people, and exchanged thoughts, and talked about their mutual creations. We know Gaiman talked of the early Sandman issues when they were created with Alan Moore and Clive Barker, while Moore talked of his creation of From Hell. We also know that a part of the Sandman's universe was indirectly created by Barker - as Gaiman explained the idea for naming Desire's domain "The Threshold" came from a story Clive Barker had planned but never wrote, exploring the puns "threshold" could offer.

To my knowledge Clive Barker never claimed that Gaiman plagiarized him or stole from him with Coraline? But I might be wrong.

III/Other details

The comment about the "Lovecraft and Doyle" comparison is clearly taken out of context, because it was literaly about a story which WAS a literal Sherlock Holmes meets Cthulhu fanfiction, "A Study in Emerald". The commenter seems to think this comment applied to Gaiman's entire work? No it does not.

I don't know anything about the Lenny Henry situation, I will have to look for this.

[blkkizzat]

I've been holding this in for a while but the latest "lets flood the x reader tags with posts complaining about what writers write" has pmo to my limit. allow me this please and i will put the rest under the cut...

for the love of god please stop calling people on tumblr, especially smut writers/enjoyers, 'porn addicts' because you sound like an uneducated, highly sheltered, dumbfuck.

i'm sorry but you sound slow and like you have zero life experience. and it seriously makes me question if you are a minor hiding behind an 18/19 age tag. (because it is always y'all especially saying this).

do y'all know what addicts are? have you ever had an addict of anything in your life? do you know what that entails?

What IS a porn addiction.

being an addict means your entire life is centered around your addiction.

it means your work, school, home and general relationships with everyone in your life is being negatively affected by this addiction

It means if you are driving/taking public transport, you watching porn.

out with friends or dinner with family? you're sneaking away to consume porn or reading smut.

At work/school, you watch or read in the background (think of all the stories of kanye west in adidas boardroom meetings literally having porn playing in the background while they discuss shoes... insanity and i can only imagine the amount of paperwork HR had to do to ensure no one would gets sued).

Overall, you are constantly consumed by the urges to consume smut/porn and its the main priority in your life. THAT is addiction.

What is NOT a porn addiction:

It's not after a long stressful day of work, school, and just surviving in this fucked up world (especially if you support yourself 100% and pay bills) wanting to decompress and escape by writing, consuming or enjoying smut/hentai/porn about fictional characters.

hell it ain't even a porn addiction if to fall asleep or decompress you need to self-soothe rub one out to it at night to relax to smut or hentai or porn links.

It's more of a reflection of a fucked up world who majority of people are so stressed because they can barely afford a living or have no access to mental health services, let alone medicines, or maybe they have all that but they also are just trying to exist in a country that either wants to take all their rights away or see them d3@d. it could be literally anything that causes them stress and they just want some relief and endorphins. that is not an addiction. sure its not the solution to their issues, but its helping them get by and they are perfectly functional without consuming porn.

now COULD there be some people on this app who do have porn addictions? Sure, but those aren't the people you know about who are taking the time to write fics, or engage with others or be apart of the community. they are likely just blank accounts liking/reblogging so they can just binge all day.

and low key the once or twice i did see someone say "they had a porn addiction" they literally just sounded like the actual root of the issue was depression and using smut/porn as an avoidance to dealing with issues. BUT it didn't quite qualify as an addiction because they were easily able to disengage cold turkey and not have it negatively effect them when they did decide it was getting to be unhealthy. thats also not an addiction, maybe heading towards it but not there yet. addiction means dependency you dont have a dependency if you are able to give it up easily.

wanna hear about someone who actually had a porn addiction i've personally seen? so storytime...

i've worked in media most of my career. at one point i worked for the mouse's sports company (think about it lol should be obvious). for orientation i was flown out to big HQ. everyone is given a tour of the facilities where they film everything at. also we saw behind the scenes. you know in tv/movies you see those dark rooms where producers/editors sit during a live broadcast? those rooms. so at this company they allow people to see into those rooms without disturbing them (as they could be live on air) as there is a dark one way type of mirror so you can see in, but they cannot see out/see hallway light that would be distracting.

one of the jobs in the production rooms at this sports company is a sports analyst. now this aint no easy job to get, it is probably one of the hardest jobs in the entire company to get, harder than executive interviews, as they open applications once a year and there is probably 6K+ applicants for that ONE position. your job is to feed the sportscasters sports facts live as they are on air. 95% of what you give them has to be off the top of your head, so you literally just have to know hundreds of random sports facts and just be able to give that to them at a moments notice. its a very respected job in the company cause these guys know their shit and study sports facts for years to get this position.

so wouldn't you know one of them had a porn addiction.

on my tour, literal first day at the job, and we were walking by one of production rooms. there sitting at the back row, so the row we can see the easiest that is in front of the windowed mirror. he is literally sitting there with three monitors: whats happening live on air, random files/notes, and then hardcore porn of this woman getting fucked from all angles by like different men. He wasn't even jerking. He wasn't even looking at it. He was just doing his job like having that porn up was the most normal thing in the world, like it was a fuckin podcast lmfao. LOL our tour guide was so scandalized, she immediately rushed us away from there and phone in on her walkie talkie. (it was a kiiii though me and this other guy were trying not to laugh but i was literally in tears trying to hold it in. i think other people thought i was crying cause i was upset but it was just too funny but i had to play it off cause people got yelled at for laughing).

but the sad part is i heard later that the guy didnt even realize he had it up. that watching porn was just so normalized to him and something hed do all the time he didnt even think that he had pulled it up at work. Now he fucked up his dream job and is unemployeed with a super niche skill having to provide for his family and i think he had like 3 kids too. He'd studied 5 years straight to get that job and he blew it. THATS what addiction looks like. That's how it can utterly destroy your life. Even an addiction that is not drugs can physically destroy you can still tear apart your life.

I don't think anyone who calls people reading smut on tumblr 'porn' addicts understands that. nor do you have the proof to know what people do outside of this app to know how it is or isnt consuming their life.

this was long and alot but i needed to get his off my chest cause some of y'all really be pmo by how ridiculous you sound throwing around the term 'porn addiction' please grow tf up, quickly.

imma start blocking y'all saying it too cause regardless of your age im going to assume you are a minor cause theres no way an actual adult with any kind of education or life experience is saying this shit.

cut it tf out.

xoxo, Kali.

p.s. this also includes haters of twt porn links saying people who like/enjoy them have addiction. im callin' your dumbasses out too.

[lesbiansforboromir]

The first time I saw this I was all excited when I got to the HERE links like 'oh!!! more denethor positive post recommendations?? :DD' and then the links were me, me and my partner 😂 excitement to disappointment to flattery! Big emotional rollercoaster! But thank you so much for reading and enjoying :) Though there are other tumblr users than me fighting the good denethor fight, anghraine and bretwalda-lamnguin to name two off the top of my head!

The idea that Denethor's final look into the Palantir is a hopeful act literally hasn't occurred to me before, for some reason I never thought too hard about his motivation to do it. Extremely beautiful and heartbreaking take and I fully agree.

I presume the reason you mention it is because it's a part of the video you linked? (which I simply will not watch because I'm sick enough already). Ergo I also presume that the idea Denethor saw the black ships coming up the Anduin in the Palantir and that is what made him lose hope is also from that video? Either way, and I hope you don't mind me rambling on your post, that is a Tom Shippey construction that is actively disproven by the text. Denethor didn't need to use the Palantir in that moment to know the black ships were coming, all of Minas Tirith already knew that!

‘But if you would know what I think set the beacons ablaze, it was the news that came that eve out of Lebennin. There is a great fleet drawing near to the mouths of Anduin, manned by the corsairs of Umbar in the South.' - Beregond, Minas Tirith chapter from RotK

One could make the argument that they didn't yet know the fleet would make it up the Anduin, that they thought Pelargir might stall them, but even in that regard it's just not that great of a shock to find ships you knew were coming... are coming! And Pelargir's capture was already complete by the time Aragorn arrived, so really how much of a doomful surprise would this have been to Denethor?

AND! I don't even think it is reasonable to put such certainty into the idea that Denethor, in looking at the Palantir for the ships, wouldn't see Aragorn captaining them. The Palantir, when wielded by someone of rightful skill (a thing Denethor absolutely had) can see such detail as to pick out a ring on a person's finger according to the Palantir essay. And one could claim he simply was too much 'in despair' to look that closely, but still! It all makes the claim quite shadey.

More likely to me, and supported more by textual inference, is that Denethor saw Frodo captured by orcs in Cirith Ungol and that is what broke him. The timeline matches precisely, Frodo being captured on the 13th of March, the very same day Faramir is wounded and Denethor looks into the stone. And Denethor... tells us he saw this!

‘Comfort me not with wizards!’ said Denethor. ‘The fool’s hope has failed. The Enemy has found it, and now his power waxes; he sees our very thoughts, and all we do is ruinous.'

And here too! Before Denethor talks about the ships, he says;

‘Pride and despair!’ he cried. ‘Didst thou think that the eyes of the White Tower were blind? Nay, I have seen more than thou knowest, Grey Fool. For thy hope is but ignorance.

Like the mention of the fleet is more of an afterthought addition that Denethor includes, when what he is talking about is 'the Power that now arises [against which] there is no victory'.

Denethor knows all about the fellowship by now, he already called it a foolish plan to begin with. But within the framing you give of Denethor's look into the Palantir being one of hope, looking for any chance that their fight will have been worth it, the attempt to search for Frodo in Mordor..... is absolutely heartbreaking! And like... THIS is the kind of thing you see in a Palantir that makes you lose all hope. The ringbearer is captured, naked and powerless in the hands of the enemy. And nude as he is, you can see clearly he has no ring. The enemy has found it, how can there be any other explanation? It was all for nought, how could Gandalf have been so foolish? He has doomed them all. It is purely his vanity that makes him believe he could win now. LIKE. THE AGONY!!!!

This kind of Denethor discourse is so frustrating to me that I am literally pacing back and forth like a panther in a zoo enclosure. Ugggggggghhhhh

A lot of people will tell you that the moral of The Lord of the Rings is “never lose hope,” and that Denethor is bad because he loses hope.

Please read THIS and THIS and especially THIS, which is one of the most beautiful and heartbreaking meditations on LotR you’ll ever read. Tolkien’s ideas about hope are so much more radical than “hope good despair bad.”

Denethor—Tolkien’s Denethor, not Peter Jackson’s Denethor—is unsettling because he tries to hope, but his hope isn’t strong enough to save him. Here are his thoughts on hope, just a few days before his death:

The time will not be long. In what is left, let all who fight the Enemy in their fashion be at one, and keep hope while they may, and after hope still the hardihood to die free.

Denethor has a more “realist” worldview than Gandalf or Faramir, but he’s not a nihilist. He’s still hanging onto hope even though he’s grieving Boromir and he’s positive that Frodo is going to be captured by Sauron. He only breaks when Faramir is mortally wounded and he sees the black ships in the palantir. And I don’t mean he gives up, I mean his mind snaps:

And as [Pippin] watched, it seemed to him that Denethor grew old before his eyes, as if something had snapped in his proud will, and his stern mind was overthrown.

Tolkien repeatedly uses language like “madness,” “madman,” “he is not himself” and “his mind was overthrown.” It’s not subtle!

Denethor is having a psychotic episode. His culpability is reduced, either partially or totally; we can’t know for certain. But I don’t think that everything he says and does in his last moments is “the real Denethor.”

We can do our best and try to have hope, but sometimes life crushes us. How are we supposed to live with the knowledge that this can happen?

Tolkien was haunted by the idea of heroes who fail, heroes who are crushed by their burdens:

Frodo indeed 'failed' as a hero, as conceived by simple minds: he did not endure to the end; he gave in, ratted. (Letter 246)

….I think it can be observed in history and experience that some individuals seem to be placed in 'sacrificial' positions: situations or tasks that for perfection of solution demand powers beyond their utmost limits, even beyond all possible limits for an incarnate creature in a physical world – in which a body may be destroyed, or so maimed that it affects the mind and will. Judgement upon any such case should then depend on the motives and disposition with which he started out, and should weigh his actions against the utmost possibility of his powers, all along the road to whatever proved the breaking-point. (Letter 246)

Tolkien himself tended to judge Denethor harshly, but the character fits very well into the same template as Frodo: a “sacrificial” person who is pushed beyond his limits. The palantir aged him and weakened his mental health, but what truly pushed him over the edge was the wounding of Faramir: Tolkien says that Denethor “maintained the integrity of his personality until the final blow of the (apparently) mortal wound of his only surviving son.”

It’s easy to judge Denethor for using the palantir (although Tolkien said that he had the right to use it and Gandalf admitted that the palantir’s knowledge had often proved useful!) but what should Denethor have done differently regarding sending Faramir into battle? We know that the defense of Osgiliath was necessary because Tolkien had the Rohirrim arrive at the exact moment the Witch King is about to ride through the gate of Minas Tirith. If Faramir hadn’t delayed Mordor’s army, the Rohirrim would have showed up to a conquered city.

Denethor believed that it was necessary to send Faramir to Osgiliath… and he was right! But the pain of being responsible for Faramir’s death was too great for him to bear. You can say that his craving for information killed him, but it’s just as accurate to say that his love for Faramir killed him.

Gandalf tells Denethor’s servants that they were “caught in a net of warring duties,” and this is also true of Denethor. His duty as a father conflicts with his duty as the leader of Gondor, and the strain destroys him.

It may be true that Denethor’s need for control is a character flaw, but I wonder about his final use of the palantir. His son appears to be dying: why does he leave his side to go look in the palantir? I actually think this was a hopeful act: Denethor was hoping to see the Rohirrim, or some kind of good news about the war, some indication that Faramir’s death would not be in vain. But the palantir shows him that he sent his son to die for nothing.

It’s the tragedy of Denethor lamenting “I sent my son forth, unthanked, unblessed, out into needless peril” and dying before he can learn that the battle wasn’t needless… you can’t reduce this tragedy to a morality play!

Okay, I can’t deny that the palantir is a very topical analogy for the internet/smartphones/the tyranny of “data” in general.

But Denethor is so much more than a blackpilled internet doomer, and I will defend him forever.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Dysprosium, Mary Soon Lee

dysprosium, AN 66, is a silvery-white rare earth metal. its name is derived from the greek dysprositos, meaning “hard to get at”, owing to the difficulty in separating and isolating this rare earth element. dysprosium is used to measure neutron flux, to fuel reactors, and to activate phosphors. terfenol-d is a magnetorestrictive alloy, meaning that it changes shape when a magnetic field is applied, and is used to manufacture underwater acoustic systems.

jason “robo” robertson, dallas stars #21 for @simmyfrobby’s nhl periodic table poems <3

[mad-hunts]

so... i've been thinking about auriel again because i actually did have an account for her once upon a time (just on another platform) + all i can remember is doing this roleplay on there with barton immediately asking the person whom told him they saw her was whether she was okay because she had went missing with no trace for years after all. and additionally, this was also while shedding tears like there was NO tomorrow, which is 😭 like he isn't a good person, y'all, but he does have his moments where it actually seems like he genuinely cares about people

[famewolf]

i will genuinely never understand my dad!!! and i feel guilty for being confused and angered by him!!!! i don't know what he wants and i doubt i ever will

i guess he's known that he's had cancer for over a month now but never told me. and i dont know if it's because he wanted me to reach out/pay attention to him, as he's done in the past or if he just didn't think to, or if it's some other third mysterious reason that i can't think up

we aren't close since he was rarely in my life but i feel like that's something you tell your kid.

and the only reason i found out is because i went to go check and see why he hadn't replied to my message about asking if he wanted to hang out for the thousandth time without getting a response

[whatremained]

actually keep writing reactions i love reading them

and sorry for responding again. i really like this musical and ... just like talking about it when i can.

with you saying that me reading connor as autistic is a real take, i giggle. i mean i believe it, but i haven't heard many other people read him that way, and it's nice to see someone who agrees. and i do also argue a lot the cast is neurodivergent, and i would say... the main three characters we NEED to be focusing on and thinking about throughout the story (evan, zoe, connor), are all autistic.

though the authors grossly say that evan isn't autistic because "he wants friends…" obviously they don't know what autism is. most autistic people WANT friends, just like how most PEOPLE want friends. we're no different. evan… quite literally is read as autistic, not only to neurotypical people, but also neurodivergent people. (so much so that when i attended the show with my brother who had never seen it before, he turned to me after act one and directly asked if evan was autistic. he is neurodivergent, and it wasn’t an insult by the way he worded it and the way he expressed it. 😭) it REALLY sucks that the writers of the show said shit like that, but it doesn’t change how most of the audience perceives evan.

zoe just reads as autistic to me because of her very set mind and how she views the world. also... zoe can come off as bratty at times! and how she acts can be mistaken for genuine brattiness when she's just... trying to make a point, or say something. ex. her sounding pissed when evan was in connor's room, asking him why he was there. she wasn't hurt or anything, she just wanted to know. but it comes off as very sharp and harsh. she definitely does not understand tone and… i also don’t so yk! zoe's potential autistic-coded being so ignored messes me up. "women getting ignored in the mental health field" quota filled with this musical/book's fandom i guess. good lord, zoe is genuinely such an interesting character, and it pains me that she’s just… ignored all the time. it’s the fact that she’s so obviously a main character. i mean in the playbill, at least the one i have… the way the actors are listed, assumably, is by their status as characters, as in… main lead, and leads. and then supporting cast (as well as understudies & such).

(photo evidence of the listed cast lol)

(touring cast of this year. michael fabisch plays evan, hatty ryan king plays zoe, bre cade plays heidi, caitlin sams plays cynthia, alex pharo plays connor, jeff banks plays larry, gabriel vernon nunag plays jared, makena jackson plays alana… the rest are understudies & the voices we hear when social media posts appear. this… order objectively makes sense for character appearances imo. zoe is… in a bunch of the story and is a very important character. just rambling here though.)

zoe is a character that has a huge story in the show and… she’s ignored because??? idk? she’s a woman? and people in this fandom don’t care about women it seems!

i could go on for HOURS about connor because his symptoms really replicate mine, and it's VERY easy for me to point out, but i'll give my small little rant. from the very start, described by evan in the book, he knew connor from previous classes as children. obviously they were never close, but he saw him in grade school. he describes just knowing connor as basically the kid who… cried a lot. now crying a ton isn’t a neurotypical vs neurodivergent thing. it happens to both kinds of people. but the reason for crying may lead to the realization of “oh! this character might be autistic!”. for connor, as a younger child, we see the cause in one story for why connor may have cried a lot in school. this is the infamous “mrs g” story mentioned in the musical. he cried and got angry because he wasn’t line leader that day, mostly because of the fact he WAS supposed to be line leader that day, and the fact he wasn’t subverted his expectations. for a lot of autistic people, and for me, when things don’t go routinely, they tend to get upset. it’s smart to assume the crying would come from that, feeling overwhelmed day after day.

honest to god; i was going to type a lot more after this but i have about no energy to. my shortest explanation is read the book, connor’s parts. explains a LOT on why i think he’s autistic. i could probably tell you more later but i don’t want this ramble to sit in my drafts for five weeks so.

i also see how people could argue that alana & jared are autistic, but there’s the fact that we don’t really get to hear from them as characters all that much, so we can’t full determine it from there.

but alana i will go out and say, yes, she probably has autism. like her character really reads as autistic person trying their hardest to mask but kind of just… failing somewhat?

jared…? idk. he’s… i could care less man. i don’t want to analyze that asshole more than i have to. i can see the point people try and make with jared, and i can go “sure! yeah!” but. i don’t want to talk about him. he’s the bane of my existence i swear.

anyways yeah that was my little autism ramble i. am so sick and tired of typing rn 🙏

[cryptidjeepers]

Im not going to say specifics but theres so much 'through the grape vine' discourse on the internet that is so frustrating for a lot of reasons. But the most frustrating kind is the "baseless or otherwise unnuanced/overdramatic accusation of someone or something" that is either debunked, old and outdated or proven to be a much more complicated topic. But all most people will see is that first callout post and will internalize it as fact for years. Theyll continue to parrot it on other platforms whenever its mentioned and then outsiders will see that out of context and internalize that as well. Until its so far from the context and the damage is irreversible.

Or will take what might have been a understandable criticism but will turn it into a "this thing is irredeemablely bad and youre a bad person for liking it." If you so much as mention the thing you will have people saying "isnt this thing evil and bad?" Because of a tumblr post they read 5 years ago.

[social-cocoon]

I think I've given up on the idea of catching up with Critical Role. Stuff I hear about c3, especially that a big thing is most of BH being very anti-god, just isn't for me. Much as I love CR, I don't think I could sit through it

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[pomefioredove]

Could I HCs for the headmasters (or only Riddle, Leona and Azul) reacting to one of their students asking to be transferred to ramshackle? like a small club of Yuu admirers :3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Yuu Admirer Club!

I misread this the first time and thought it was yuu transferring to THEIR dorms but, actually, I like this better. this is fun

summary: yuu admirer club :) type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

seeing as Heartslabyul hasn't had an expulsion, transfer, or dropout since Riddle became housewarden, this comes as...

...quite a shock

he thought Ace had been joking at first

or annoying him on purpose...

and then he comes down to the lounge one morning with his bags packed and a forged letter from Crowley

despite Riddle's strong feelings towards you

(and they are strong)

he's still offended!

all of the loving and tender discipline he's given, and Ace just leaves?

well, he can't stand for that

Riddle marches to Ramshackle, ready for heads to roll, but before he can even knock, you're there, dragging Ace and his things to the door

"oh, thank goodness. TAKE HIM BACK!"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona doesn't even notice that Jack has been missing until he passes the spelldrive disc at morning practice and there's no one there to catch it

more of a "huh" reaction

then he forgets about it, takes a nap, and only remembers to ask Ruggie the next morning

"he's been gone for two weeks. he moved to Ramshackle, remember?"

Ramshackle? weird choice, but okay

Jack has always been a little... strange

Leona's reaction is more or less, "huh. nice kid. oh, well,"

but after that, he starts seeing you and Jack together more and more

and he starts to feel... weirdly jealous

it's like he's rubbing it in Leona's face

taking up all your time, always making you smile and laugh...

Jack was never that funny at Savanaclaw

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

it takes Azul at least three days to start worrying about Floyd

he and his brother are known to disappear at random

then, the Mostro Lounge has to open an hour late because someone didn't show up for his morning shift

now Azul suddenly can't remember the last time he saw Floyd at the Lounge

after a brief manhunt, he finds Floyd all cozied up on your couch, in your slippers, with a mug of hot chocolate

great

"you cannot transfer dorms by avoiding your old one!"

"exemption!" Floyd says. is he also wearing your robe? "I'm simply a part of the Yuu Admirer Club"

Azul rolls his eyes

...and drags Floyd back to the lounge

after all, if there was such a club, Azul would have been the first to hear of it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil can feel something is off even before Epel is late

and, as always, he's right

Epel misses curfew, and Vil sets out on a mission like a mother hen missing a chick

of course, he knows just where he's hiding

and he lets himself in unannounced

"Epel, here. now,"

the poor boy looks like he's seen a ghost

you're not even involved in the conversation, but Vil's tone alone is enough to send a chill down your spine

"but- but- I got permission! this is the Yuu Admirer Club!"

Vil, of course, has no patience for this

"I gave you no such permission, and there is no such club,"

you can admire them on your own time like the rest of us, he thinks

luckily, Epel is saved

he's not the only member of the club, after all

"now, judge not so quick, dear Roi du Poison! does our admiration for our Trickster not exemplify that of a club?"

"wh- Rook?"

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Hey so like many of you, I saw that article about how people are going into college having read no classic books. And believe it or not, I've been pissed about this for years. Like the article revealed, a good chunk of American Schools don't require students to actually read books, rather they just give them an excerpt and tell them how to feel about it. Which is bullshit.

So like. As a positivity post, let's use this time to recommend actually good classic books that you've actually enjoyed reading! I know that Dracula Daily and Epic the Musical have wonderfully tricked y'all into reading Dracula and The Odyssey, and I've seen a resurgence of Picture of Dorian Gray readership out of spite for N-tflix, so let's keep the ball rolling!

My absolute favorite books of all time are The Haunting of Hill House and We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson. Classic psychological horror books about unhinged women.

I adore The Bad Seed by William March. It's widely considered to be the first "creepy child" book in American literature, so reading it now you're like "wow that's kinda cliche- oh my god this is what started it. This was ground zero."

I remember the feelings of validation I got when people realized Dracula wasn't actually a love story. For further feelings of validation, please read Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. There's a lot the more popular adaptations missed out on.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier is an absolute gem of a book. It's a slow-build psychological study so it may not be for everyone, but damn do the plot twists hit. It's a really good book to go into blind, but I will say that its handling of abuse victims is actually insanely good for the time period it was written in.

Moving on from horror, you know people who say "I loved this book so much I couldn't put it down"? That was me as a kid reading A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Picked it up while bored at the library and was glued to it until I finished it.

Peter Pan and Wendy by JM Barrie was also a childhood favorite of mine. Next time someone bitches about Woke Casting, tell them that the original 1911 Peter Pan novel had canon nonbinary fairies.

Watership Down by Richard Adams is my sister Cori's favorite book period. If you were a Warrior Cats, Guardians of Ga'Hoole or Wings of Fire kid, you owe a metric fuckton to Watership Down and its "little animals on a big adventure" setup.

A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry was a play and not a book first, but damn if it isn't a good fucking read. It was also named after a Langston Hughes poem, who's also an absolutely incredible author.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury is a book I absolutely adore and will defend until the day I die. It's so friggin good, y'all, I love it more than anything. You like people breaking out of fascist brainwashing? You like reading and value knowledge? You wanna see a guy basically predict the future of television back in 1953? Read Fahrenheit.

Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain and To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee are considered required reading for a reason: they're both really good books about young white children unlearning the racial biases of their time. Huck Finn specifically has the main character being told that he will go to hell if he frees a slave, and deciding eternal damnation would be worth it.

As a sidenote, another Mark Twain book I was obsessed with as a kid was A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. Exactly what it says on the tin, incredibly insane read.

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin is a heartbreaking but powerful book and a look at the racism of the time while still centering the love the two black protagonists feel for each other. Giovanni's Room by the same author is one that focuses on a MLM man struggling with his sexuality, and it's really important to see from the perspective of a queer man living in the 50s– as well as Baldwin's autobiographical novel, Go Tell it on the Mountain.

Agatha Christie mysteries are all still absolutely iconic, but Murder on the Orient Express is such a good read whether or not you know the end twist.

Maybe-controversial-maybe-not take: Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov is a good book if you have reading comprehension. No, you're not supposed to like the main character. He pretty much spells that out for you at the end ffs.

Animal Farm by George Orwell was another favorite of mine; it was written as an obvious metaphor for the rise of fascism in Russia at the time and boy does it hit even now.

And finally, please read Shakespeare plays. As soon as you get used to their way of talking, they're not as hard to understand as people will lead you to believe. My absolute favorite is Twelfth Night- crossdressing, bisexual love triangles, yellow stockings... it's all a joy.

and those are just the ones i thought of off the top of my head! What're your guys' favorite classic books? Let's make everyone a reading list!

[bunnis-monsters]

🕸️Legend of the Drider🕸️

Bunni’s Monstertober Event(Oct1)

Male!Drider x Fem!Reader

Oct2

warnings: light web bondage, breeding, oviposition, possessive behavior, reader is a bit insecure about her body, body worship and praise

summary: You go on a trip, hoping to build your confidence before you go back to college. When you get trapped on a mountain during a storm, you realize a legend about spider people may be real when you encounter a horny one for yourself.

A/N: I don’t know much about college so don’t kill me if things are inaccurate 💗 also don’t expect all of the halloween posts to be this long, some will be short and some on the longer side >< also guess the inspo for this story in the comments…

my ko-fi if you’re feeling generous~

If you had known how your trip up a nearby mountain would end with you in the clutches of the spider creature you’d only heard of in legends, you would have stayed home that October day.

But you were bored, wanting to find some fun stuff to film and meet a cute stranger while you were at it. That’s why you packed your bag and left for the nearby tourist attractions.

First you walked through a big pumpkin patch, taking pictures with a 50 pound pumpkin. It wasn’t as impressive as some you had seen online, and you knew that wearing a burnt orange sweater while posing next to it would only bring on ridicule.

You weren’t thin, and if someone from your college saw that picture, you were sure they’d compare you to the pumpkin, saying it was your twin.

Well… you had never even really talked to a single in any of your classes. You weren’t the type that liked to socialize. Too many times had you been burned, finding out they were being your friends for a prank or had been talking about your body behind closed doors.

Part of you knew it wasn’t right to judge others before even meeting them. After all, it happened to you more times than you could count… but you were still too shy and insecure to take that first step into making new friends.

That’s why you took a bit of time off of college to try and build up your confidence. It was important to you, learning how to love yourself so you could truly love others.

Ever since you went through puberty you had been aching for someone to love you, to adore you with their entire being…

How would you even be able to believe them if you didn’t love yourself first?

So you laughed at the picture of you next to a pumpkin and placed it into your scrap book before packing it away in your backpack.

You repeated this at several tourist attractions, even finding the courage to speak to a few attractive men and women. It wasn’t as scary as you thought, they didn’t look at you with disgust or say anything mean. They simply spoke with you before giving a smile and going about their day.

‘Maybe there really isn’t anything to be afraid of after all?’

The last stop on your list was the Arachne Mountains, named after a certain legend surrounding the area.

“Huh… spider people have been sighted several times over the year, and there’s a reward for anyone that can catch them on camera…”

You squinted at the pamphlet in your hands, trying to read the small print at the bottom. “What does that say? It’s so small…”

With a shrug, you stuffed the pamphlet into your bag, pulling out the bug spray instead and spraying every bit of bare skin. Mosquitos just loved you, and you didn’t want to be itching the whole bus ride home.

As you walked up the mountain trail, you took many pictures, but mostly of the gorgeous scenery.

A vast forestry landscape spread out beneath you, and the mountain path winded through the forest. As you continued walking, the path worn down by several years of hikers began to become more overgrown and less accessible.

“Huh… doesn’t seem like anyone’s been this far up in a while…”

When you thought about it, the stand with all the pamphlets was abandoned and dusty, the window broken. You just assumed they didn’t have the budget to fix it… but now you were second guessing yourself.

And that’s when a storm hit. Earlier that day you had heard something about a thunderstorm on the radio, but it was supposed to be that night, not now!

“Shit!”

You ran through the rain, slipping on mud and losing your way. The rain was so thick you could barely see in front of you. Tree branches scraped against your sides and caught on your clothes, ripping your sweater and scraping you up.

By the time you were finally able to take shelter in a nearby cave, you were absolutely drenched and covered in scratches and scrapes.

You slid down to the ground, panting and taking off your sweater, now heavy with water. It plopped against the ground, and you reached into your backpack.

“Fuck…”

Your phone had no signal, and you wouldn’t be able to go down the mountain to call anyone until the storm died down.

You yelped, jumping up from your seat and backing away from the entrance to the cave when lightning struck close by.

This sent you further into the cave, nearly tripping on the uneven, rocky ground.

Most would expect a cave out in the middle of nowhere to be cold and damp, and smell of moss and dust. Surprisingly, the further you traveled inside, the more… “cozy” it seemed.

It smelled almost like cinnamon and felt pleasantly warm. This made your shivering die down, your soaked clothes forgotten at the entrance of the cave.

Little did you know, you were slowly being lured in deeper by the inviting warmth and pleasant smell…

The first sign that something was wrong was a skittering that could be heard further into the cave. The hair on your neck stood up, but you tried your best to reason with yourself.

‘It’s probably just some rat or bug…’

But as your phone battery went out and darkness enveloped you without your only source of light, the noise got louder as whatever was making it approached.

You yelped when something brushed against you, and tried to scream, but your mouth was covered and something sunk into your neck…

Darkness.

——————

When you awoke, you felt something warm yet sticky enveloping you, keeping you from freezing while trapping you in place.

You were barely awake when you heard a purr like sound coming from the dark corner of the cave. A man’s face was barely visible within the shadows.

He was handsome, his eyes a dark red and hair a soft blonde, almost platinum color. It seemed he had been the one to trap you there.

“Hello, my dear. You’re finally awake…”

As soon as you were fully conscious, you began to struggle against your bonds, finally looking down to see what was keeping you from breaking free.

“Are those… webs..?”

You felt almost faint, staring down at the whitish, substance wrapped around you. It looked like thick, velvety ropes, but they were so sticky that you knew that they couldn’t be.

“Indeed.”

The man began to move forward, the same skittering sound appearing once more. You looked on in horror as his lower half was revealed.

Below his torso was not a set of legs like a normal, no, it was the abdomen of a spider.

‘The legend… is true?’

You had been captured by one of the spider people of myth…

“You must be scared… you’re just a human girl after all, and I’ve taken you away.”

He reached out, caressing your soft cheek with his hand. “But do not fear, I’m not planning on eating you, little one.”

His hand traveled down your face to your shoulder, his fingers playing with one of your bra straps.

“Far from it…”

Your cheeks heated up as he easily cut through your bra, his eyes on your now bare breasts.

“I’m in need of a mate to carry my eggs… and you’re the only woman that’s traveled to this mountain in ages…”

He breathed against your neck, licking the bite mark he left there earlier. “God, I could hardly hold myself back the moment I saw you. Such a plump, perfect woman, you’ll carry my eggs well…”

You whines as his lower half creates more webs, keeping you suspended in air, but freeing your soft cunt.

Quickly, he tore off your panties as well, growling lowly at the sight of your pretty, fat pussy. “Oh, my little mate, already this wet? Perhaps this was fate, for me to be sent this angel from above…”

He plunged a finger into you, pressing against your gummy walls and stretching you out as one of his spider legs nudged against your sensitive clit, just enough to stimulate you and get you to cum all over his fingers.

“There we go… such a good girl…” he purred into your ear, beginning to stroke his monstrous cock. He drew out several orgasms from you, prepping your virgin hole for him.

Within seconds, you were lowered down, your hips hovering over his as he nudged the head of his cock against you.

“Gods, you’re so soft…”

He kneaded your fat belly and thighs, purring in delight. “You’ll make such a good mother… you’ve got child bearing hips, like you were just meant to carry my eggs…”

Soft nips and nibbles were left on your neck and breasts.

“Every ten years, us driders go out to find a mate that’s suitable for us. I am the last of our kind, so there are no females left for me…”

He smiled, beginning to push in.

“But you… are not just going to be the woman that carries my eggs. You’ll be my mate, and I’ll cherish you.”

It was uncomfortable and painful, the way his cock stretched you out. You gritted your teeth and he cooed, but wouldn’t allow you to close your legs, two of his spider legs kept your thighs apart so he could sink deeper into your fat cunt.

“Shh, shh… it’ll feel good soon, my love…”

And he was right, his cock stretched you in such a delicious way, hitting all the right spots and making you cry out in pleasure.

He mounted you, fucking into your needy cunt as he groaned into your ear. “Gonna take my eggs, okay? My sweet girl, you’ll be such a good mommy won’t you?”

Suddenly you felt something push into you. Was that…

He was cumming, eggs filling up your pussy and settling into your womb. Soon your belly would swell as the eggs grew and developed, but for now, you were tired…

He kissed along your shoulders and neck, nuzzling into. Slowly, he lowered you down from the webs, curling up with you in a dark corner of the cave.

“You’ll be pampered, well taken care of… never again will you worry about a single thing…”

As you began to drift off to sleep, you realized that this creature truly thought you were beautiful… it made you happy.

So you snuggled into him, too full of cum and eggs to really even try escaping. Why would you?

You were loved… you felt truly beautiful for the first time in your life.

“I’ll prepare a cabin soon, there’s plenty of abandoned ones nearby. Wouldn’t want my mate to be uncomfortable.”

The way he nuzzled into you was filled with such love and care. He must have been lonely, being the last of his species.

So you decided to stay… at least for now…

Want a part 2? Send me a kofi and ask for it~

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Ballad of Lost Souls

Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader

Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say

Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, y’all get to be tattooed girlies today, you’re welcome

WC: 5.7K I’m sorry

Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! She’s a great writer

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. That’s all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if there’s enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, I’ve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and don’t cancel me alright.

You didn’t often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didn’t know where you’d be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didn’t mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didn’t care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and that’s why you were here. 

You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldn’t take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didn’t say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.

Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in. 

You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didn’t notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful. 

Eric remembered that. 

The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasn’t much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull up’s, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man you’ve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldn’t take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldn’t be eye fucking him like this, but you couldn’t help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.

Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didn’t take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didn’t care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.

The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didn’t show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldn’t get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didn’t feel filthy enough.

You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You weren’t paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didn’t even know his name. 

Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didn’t feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares. 

Shit, were you supposed to say something? 

You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didn’t even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didn’t think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since you’ve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face. 

Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him. 

~~~

You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it. 

He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.

“I like your ink.” Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.

“Hm.” He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. “I like yours.” 

You smiled, the first genuine one since you’ve gotten here.

“I have more.” You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets. 

“Me too.” His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.

Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder. 

“But don’t tell anyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.

“Who would I tell?” Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. “Here he comes.”

You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head. 

“Males and females can’t sit together!” One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.

“Huh? Wait, why are you taking him?” You talked back to the guard. “Hey, he didn’t do anything! I was the one that sat here. I—I’ll move. Don’t be such an asshole! Leave him alone!” You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.

He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. “I’m Eric!”

You smiled. 

~~~~~~

“Found you.” You skipped into Eric’s room, finally seeing his door open.

You hadn’t seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your “temper” but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didn’t see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.

“I never left.” He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room. 

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.

“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?” Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.

“Well yeah. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.

“Why did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.

“‘Cause… You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. It’s fucked up.” You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.

“Yeah, so?”

You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didn’t know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.

“I dunno.. I just.. Oh my—” You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.

Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didn’t look apologetic, at all.

“This what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?” You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.

He shook his head. “Just one.” He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes. 

Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.

“You are very talented, this is—” You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. “You could totally sell this for some money.”

“But,” you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. “I see one flaw in your creativity.”

“Oh?” He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.

“I fear you don’t have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.” You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.

“Sorry. I work with what I have.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.

“Maybe I should give you more to work with?” Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.

Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better. 

You weren’t sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Eric’s slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didn’t do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.

His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didn’t hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Eric’s shoulder, forcing your lips away from his. 

“Eric—Eric.” You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. “I have to go. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.” 

He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Eric’s. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.

You could not wait to see him again.

~~~~~~

“Eric!—” You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.

You didn’t mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didn’t, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didn’t know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasn’t enough for him, or for you.

“I wanted to taste you so fucking bad.” He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you. 

“Please—fuck. That feels so good.” You didn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.

Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours. 

You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit. 

“Just like that baby… Just like that.” Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot. 

Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you. 

“Shit—Eric—” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face. 

With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.

“It’s okay.” He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm. 

“But you—” He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left. 

“We’ll have time for that.” He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. “Right?”

He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didn’t want.

“Of course.. This isn’t.. Can’t you tell? What you do to me. I’ve never..” You couldn’t even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didn’t need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.

“We should go.” He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. “Can you stand?”

You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.

~~~~~

The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasn’t hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasn’t startled, he didn’t flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasn’t something you could explain, you knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.

“Where are you going?” You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didn’t look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.

“Laundry room.” He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.

“I’m supposed to be out in two weeks.” You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass. 

“I’m out in four.” He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.

“I don’t want to wait a month to be with you.” You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. “I’m supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I don’t want to go. They’re the ones that put me here.” 

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.

“You can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. It’s not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?” You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didn’t have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.

“I would like that. I would like something real, with you.” His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. “Fuck this place. We’ll do it tomorrow, during shift change. There’s a vent up here that leads to the yard.”

You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck. 

“Eric.” You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. “I don’t think I can wait anymore. Please, I… I need…”

“Need what?” His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck—” You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you might’ve once had, completely. You can’t trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? “Take me. I’m yours, just take me.”

“Fuck.” Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. “You’re a sweet girl, don’t forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.” 

His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.

“I like carnations.” You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.

“Those are pretty. They’re pretty like you.” He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days. 

Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.

His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big. 

“Let me know if it hurts, hm? I’ll take it easy, I promise.” He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.

“Fuck. Fuck, oh my god—” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.

“It’s okay. You want me to stop?” He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didn’t occur to you.

“No. ‘m okay. Keep going.” You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. “Eric, please.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. “I need you to keep it down for me, baby. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” 

You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent years—drugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.

“I wanted this—you—so fucking bad. I needed to have you.” Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. “I’m so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.” 

You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul. 

“Me too.” You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. You—ah!—I need you all the fucking time.”

“Then you can have me,” His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. “All the fucking time. Forever.” 

Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uh’s, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak. 

“I want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.” Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way before—so overcome with pleasure you cried.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Good girl.” The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down. 

Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasn’t until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself. 

Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.

“How fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?” You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.

“When I first saw you, I didn’t know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didn’t have you. And right now, I can tell you it’s not just lust. I’m entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if there’s one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise you’ll drown.” 

You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, he’d be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.

“Addicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But it’s not always to drugs we’re addicted to.” You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. “This feeling? I never want it to stop.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. “Forever, right?”

“Yeah, forever.”