#forgive for any errors

[savaralyn2]

Dungeon Meshi - Monster Tidbits: Kensuke (Part 1) (Part 2)

[myeagleexpert]

A story about the director and Grim, who are very close friends <3

Translation from fan to fan, all credits go to the appropriate artist, see the source in the pin below:https://br.pinterest.com/pin/902690319055568233/

Who else wants to see Grim's final form? but…. What cost would this have?

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Indefinite Hiatus

Hi, Loves! As you can probably tell, I've been absent again. In frank terms, I tried to get back into writing CoD but simply couldn't find the previous motivation that I feverishly possessed before; I don't feel that intense need to write for the characters, their world, or their struggles. This doesn't come lightly, as some of my best times spent on this blog were posting and seeing the heartwarming reactions from you guys. I've made friends, memories, etc.

To be completely honest, I was writing about a type of love that I never really thought I'd find in real life, and trying to cope with that belief through this blog.

The issue is that, now, I have.

I won't go into much about my boyfriend, as I value my/his privacy, but I've never met someone who's so incredibly kind and respectful; compassionate and utterly selfless.

I feel no need to write about other men when I have the epitome of a perfect person telling me that he loves me.

I know this brings in questions about my upcoming works and my multi-part projects, and, unfortunately, I have no answers. I won't force myself to finish something and ruin what story it already had because I rushed to the end/etc. For now, everything is staying where it is for the foreseeable future.

I won't be deleting anything - this blog is going nowhere. Feel free to hang around if you wish, and, if not, I had such a blast writing for you:

Thank you from the bottom of my heart, and, to all of you, I wish you only the best.

- Hal

[andythelemon]

Sorcery fight!!! A print for cons this fall, I'll have leftovers available here after!

[aroaceleovaldez]

The himbo, malewife, goofball -fication of percy jackson is such a crime by both the fans and riordan. It has made Mr not like percabeth as a couple because in all posts and in later books annabeth is such a girlboss, while Percy's dumb and can't fight his way out of a paperbag without her. All the posts are about how annabeth will be an architect and percy would love to be a trophy husband.

Even the humor in the books went from Percy's sharp wit and snark to 'my pancakes can't drown because I'm a son of poseidon.'

And now this recommendation letter bullshit.

Honestly now I'd wish percy just separated from annabeth (but they remain best friends.) He stays home with his family, becomes a camp counselor, helps young demigods, holds God's accountable and eventually becomes a social activist. (I also dislike him doing something marine biology related. It's clear he hates academics but he always wants to help people. Him helping demigods and mortals is such a wholesome profession for him.)

I fully agree with the first half of this, though I slightly disagree with part of the latter.

The later-series and fanon mischaracterization of Percy is at least a solid 50% ableism minimum, full stop. He's being warped into a very stereotyped ADHD character and the exact reason why he's being characterized as "dumb" is because of ableism. Percy is a very intelligent character! That's exactly why he's so in sync with Annabeth and they're such a strong duo! It's just generally Annabeth is more book/academically smart.

I disagree with where you say he hates academics - because that's one of the common misconceptions about his character. Percy doesn't hate learning or academic subjects! He's not even bad at them! We know explicitly that when he is in an accommodating environment he is interested in learning and gets significantly better grades! Percy only dislikes school because it is generally an environment that systematically he struggles with. It's literally just he has a learning disability (two, actually)! That's it! When his learning disability is accommodated for he does well! It's almost like that's what accommodations are all about! We know this from the first series! It's discussed pretty in-depth! Percy isn't a dumb character and he doesn't hate learning, he's just been let down by school systems so much that he's inherently distrustful of them. If they actually accommodate him though then he does just fine!

And that's exactly what CHB was all about and why New Rome University was supposed to be such a big thing for him! CHB is a learning environment geared for demigods. NRU is a demigod college. Both inherently imply an environment meant to cater to and accommodate students with ADHD and dyslexia! They are both systematically structured to be able to accommodate him! Heck, CHB and CJ even both address in the wider themes of the series a metaphor about how ADHD and dyslexia are commonly seen as childhood disabilities, and how it can be more difficult to find accommodations into adulthood because of that attitude but those disabilities don't just go away - that's why CHB is a summer camp but they talk about how demigods outside of CHB don't often fare well. The metaphor there is those who are not getting help or accommodations are struggling. Because that's how that works! This is a fully intentional metaphor from the first series! CHB is never framed as being perfect for demigods, because one of the entire central conflicts of the series is Percy and Luke going back and forth about this flawed system meant to help and support them but still letting people fall through the cracks. The "claim your kids by 13" thing is a metaphor about how acknowledging a child's disabilities (and possibly getting a diagnosis) earlier/as early as possible means they will have more time to learn and build up resources and support for themselves to be able to use later in life. One of CHB's major flaws is that it can accommodate demigods to a certain point, but it can only do so much before those demigods have to leave (the metaphor being accommodating school systems when those disabled students do not have any other forms of accommodations in their lives.)

And that's why Camp Jupiter was framed as being so revolutionary for Percy because it had an environment acknowledging that this is not just a childhood disability, adults with ADHD/dyslexia exist too and still need and deserve accommodations, AND is a place where those accommodations are available. That's why Camp Jupiter and NRU are treated as such special and important things to Percy, because it's essentially Percy being shown this type of thing can and does exist and it is available to him. It is an option he never thought was possible. Percy never thought he'd be able to go to college because he would not be able to go through school without accommodations, but NRU proves otherwise.

The part that's absolutely stupid is Rick then proceeded to retcon NRU so that apparently it's not a full college and Percy still has to take classes at normal mortal college which DEFEATS THE ENTIRE PURPOSE OF NRU EXISTING. Rick has fully retconned that demigods struggle past the ages of 16-18 when they're on their own (see above elaborated metaphors) and in doing so we have fully killed all symbolism in literally all of that. It's so stupid. And by having the plot of the CoTG trilogy entirely be that Percy is not actually allowed access to NRU in the first place because he is a son of Poseidon and has to do extra to even be accepted is stupid!

All that to say, I agree the marine biology feels like a huge cop-out and a disservice to his character by reducing him to just a son of Poseidon. The literal only reason why it's the default option people take for him is because oh, fish thing, fish guy. But I feel like everyone ignores the really obvious answer for what Percy would want to do which is - writing. Both his parents are writers/authors and he clearly admires that about them. Percy likes telling stories! He canonically is already a published author in-universe! That's what the books ARE in-universe! The first series fully exists in their universe and Percy is the author! This is explicit canonical information! Percy canonically has help physically writing it down (accommodations) but he is still the credited author! Percy is a writer! Already! Canonically! Why are we making him a marine biologist he already has a profession that ties into his character significantly more. Like you said, Percy likes helping people. That's what the books in-universe are supposed to be for! It's point blank at the beginning of the series! Book one! The thing everybody quotes all the time! The books exist because it is Percy trying to give advice to other demigods who don't know what's going on yet! It's Percy's writing down his experiences to help new demigods understand and contextualize their experiences so they can understand themselves better and figure out what's going on - WHICH IN ITSELF IS ALSO A METAPHOR ABOUT ADHD/DYSLEXIA! Because the core of the series has and always will be built around ADHD/dyslexia! Percy as a protagonist EXPLICITLY was created so that ADHD/dyslexic kids could see themselves as a hero!

Sorry that all was a very tangential rant but my point being: Absolutely. Percy in newer stuff in the franchise and in fanon is horrifically mischaracterized in ways that are functionally either fully ableist (shoutout TSATS for just outright claiming Percy is intentionally lazy and skips school out of disinterest, which is like the number one ableist attitude towards kids with learning disabilities) or a complete erasure of Percy's disabilities. Also I think he should be a writing major not a marine biologist.

[daisysplosion]

what the hell man

[daleearnhardt]

The Bus Bros apparently breaking up Oo

(24 hrs of daytona 2024) (gallagher gp 2022) (april 2023 speed street ep) (bus bros ep 22) (bus bros ep 14) (josef interview recap) (bus bros ep 18) (texas gp 2022) (prophetic perfect tense) (scott tweet sept 22) (24hrs of daytona 2023) (richard siken) (scott tweet sept 22) (josef tweet sept 22) (tumblr tragedy post) (100 days to indy) (anne carson)

[kentopedia]

starry silence

dazai x reader my lil contribution to the chaos that was today's episode <3 not quite a reunion, but the aftermath of one ෆ. i'm happy he's safe & sound, but he must be so tired. :( sfw !! kind of sad bc i’m also dealing w jjk leaks i love being in pain (i don’t)

as dazai slept, moonlight cut across his face, highlighting the contours of his skin, the dark maroon cuts and bruises that had been littered across his face. though he seemed the image of a soldier home from war, his freshly washed hair and soft breaths turned him into something much more gentle. dark strands fell in soft waves over his head, shifting as he stirred, his inhale just a skip before his breathing evened out once more. 

you traced his jaw, watching the steady streams of air flow through his chest, out his nose. he looked so angelic, so tender in that waxy moonlight, comprised of something otherworldly and earthly all at once. 

a soft sigh left his lips as you traced his chin, and something about that sound of relief, of him relaxing completely under your palm, had you choking up. tears pricked at the edge of your waterline like sharp needles, each one filled with something poisonous. 

dazai didn’t move, but you curled into a ball, squeezing your legs to your chest as he slept on.

he’d been out for hours, ever since he’d gotten out of the shower, collapsing in a pile of long limbs stretched toward every corner of the room.

the blankets were much kinder to him than the steel bed he’d slept on at meursault, where he’d always kept one eye open. now, though, even his own clothes fit him poorly, like the white prison pants that had hung so loosely off his waist. 

under his t-shirt, the angles of his collarbone had become sharper, the planes of his stomach much flatter than you remembered. though his features had never been soft, even the skin of his cheeks had thinned, stress taking more of a toll on him than he'd admitted.

it was peaceful night outside, no sounds of screams to be heard in yokohama. you were certain that you’d absorbed every ounce of turmoil that had lingered in the city beyond your doorstep, and it gathered up in your chest like a bundle of fiery energy. something that you weren’t sure how to get rid of without bending over the porcelain toilet. 

everything had resolved itself, hadn’t it? yet, you couldn’t shake the twisted anxiety that lingered in your chest, even when dazai was right beside you, sleeping soundly with no lasting injuries. 

you rested your chin on your knees, letting that emptiness swallow you whole, disappearing somewhere that wasn’t entirely there. the steady rise and fall of dazai’s chest was the only thing that kept you grounded, kept you from drifting away, lost in a spiral of every possibility that hadn’t come to be. 

a small sound of misery left your lips, and you bit down hard, tasting blood as two salty drops rolled down your cheeks. though the cry had been nearly inaudible, dazai heard it nonetheless, alway attuned to you, even the simple fluctuation of your heartbeat a beacon for him across the universe. 

“what’s wrong, darling?” his words were quiet, like he was hesitant to break the atmosphere, in fear that he might startle you. 

you blinked, not sure when your vision had become so blurry, and twisted your neck, letting your jaw rest against your shoulder. “nothing,” you said, but your smile was weak, and the word was hardly a sound at all.

dazai had tucked his cheek under his hands, blinking up at you with sleepy brown eyes that so resembled a child's. it hurt you all over again, that this aching soul who had never seen the beauty in himself had almost been taken away from you. 

your lips parted, but the words halted at your tongue as you pinched your eyebrows together, trying to explain what exactly was within you. it wasn't quite sadness, but it wasn’t relief either, a cumulation of everything you’d ever felt, and something entirely new. 

though, as always, dazai seemed to understand. he reached a hand out, fingers slender and delicate, placing them on your wrist. “it's not good to hold back your tears, my love.” 

as if you’d just been waiting for dazai’s permission, you shook once more, silently, the tears rolling down your cheeks faster, harder. he sat up, bringing you closer with every moment, until you were wrapped in his warm arms. ones that were battered and bruised, but still the safest place in the world. 

he smelled clean, more like himself than he had when you had reunited with him, and that fact alone sent another nauseating wave of emotion over you. you gripped his shoulders, his chest, unable to get any closer, even as you tried to fuse yourself into his being, turn yourselves into one whole that could never again be separated.

dazai kissed your temple, holding you as you cried, saying nothing until you could form the words to explain the ache that in the deepest part of your stomach, stretching to the back of your throat. 

“i was so close to losing you, osamu,” you said, and even if dazai denied it, even if he said he’d always had it under control, you knew that wasn’t true. one slip up, one miscalculation, and you never would’ve seen him again. a single error by chuuya, by ango, by yourself… 

dazai’s fingers twitched against your spine, and he, for once, was faced with uncertainty. like he hadn’t considered what would’ve been ahead of you when he was gone for good, even if his death would always be a possibility. even if you'd always known that if the world wouldn’t kill him, maybe he’d do it himself.

“i’m here,” dazai said, and it wasn’t a promise, but it wasn’t a lie, and you'd accept it for what it was woth. “I’ll be here.” 

there was no way to predict how long that would hold true, but you’d grasp that last spark of hope tightly nevertheless. you'd shelter it away in your loving embrace until the universe clawed it from your bloody palms, stealing the very last light that it had dropped down from heaven into your life.

and that would have to be enough.

"i probably won't write anything abt the episode, i really need to work on—" … rylie is such a silly liar (´｡• ◡ •｡`) ♡

[koolades-world]

One bed troupe w/ Levi

It was safe to day Levi almost never got out of the house. Between online school and all the the time he spent on the internet, he had no need to leave his room. Key word: almost. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he went out into the real world for events related to the things he enjoys, such as concerts, fan meetups, and most importantly, conventions.

Levi had been going to conventions longer than you even knew they existed, so it was safe to say he was an expert. But, now that you were around, and also interested in most of the same things as he was, he just had to take you along. That meaning, he nervously asked you on his knees the first time and after you agreed, he never asked again and just assumed you were going. Every convention with him is interesting, but always followed a formula.

You hear about the convention somehow, usually from Levi, where he's asking what cosplay you should go as this time. Sometimes you coordinate, sometimes you don't, but Levi loves to match. When he asks this, he's probably already book you your room. At first, he got you each your own room, but once after he accidently booked one room with two beds, you just started doing that instead. You leave a day before the convention begins with travel time factored in, spend however long there, then return home a day after the convention ends.

This formula is tried, true, and dear to Levi. It's something he can rely on to have the maximum amount of fun with his favorite person. This convention was supposed to be just like any other. The both of you were reusing an older cosplay, just because you had been busy that week. As you toted your bags into the hotel lobby, Levi almost directly in front of you, you asked him to pause. When he froze, and asked why, you carefully picked the Devildom equivalent of a ladybug. He was a little freaked out at first, but after studying the small bug you pulled out of his hair, he got a laugh out of it.

"They're good luck you know, especially if they land on you." You teased him, watching it fly off. Levi didn't respond, feeling a wave of anxiety crash over him. He wasn't sure why. He attributed it to having to deal with checking in, which he hated. But, he would never make you do that, since it was always him who insisted on bringing you along.

While he got you two checked in, you wandered off to the seating area to admire a sculpture. In your absence, something that only happens in his worst nightmares happened. Despite having made a reservation, the system wasn’t showing anything and they had no record at all. He briefly freaked out as he flickered through his camera roll, trying to find the receipt among his many photos of memes and characters fanart. Once he found it, he showed the worker. After seeing this, she did something on her computer and offered him a room upgrade. Before hearing the details, he accepted it. This was all too much for him.

Having acquired the room key, he collected you. The setting sun lit up the room, backlighting you and the sculpture. You simply stared up at it. He almost didn’t want to interrupt you. You noticed him somehow, and spun around to space him, making eye contact with a smile. His heart almost skipped a beat with the way you looked at him.

“Our room ready?” You pulled your suitcase behind you, noticing the keycard in his hand.

“Mmhm.” He didn’t trust himself to speak, and silently led you towards the elevators. He was told they had been given a room on floor 19, which was the second highest. Mc would probably die for that view. The thought of making them happy made him happy.

They two of got on the elevator. Mc made funny face at Levi through the mirrored elevator. After you walked the floor enough, following signage, you found your room. He unlocked it, and swung the door open to a beautiful suite. It came complete with a living room, and kitchenette, and a bathroom that rivaled Asmo’s. Mc dropped their bag by the door, and immediately begins to explore.

“Levi! You didn’t tell me you got a nicer room this time!” You threw your body down onto the sofa, admiring the tv. “This is great.” You peaked over the back of the sofa at him.

“Oh, I actually meant to tell you… There was a mixup of some kind so they upgraded us.” He scratched the back of his neck and closed the door behind him. His soul nearly left his body when he looked further into the room.

There was only one bed.

“Oh no, oh no no no.” He began to freak out for the second time that day.

“What’s the matter?” You got up immediately. You watched where his gaze was fixed. “Oh, Levi. I can sleep on the couch.” You looked at him empathetically, understanding his predicament.

“No! I mean, I can’t let my player two sleep on that sofa when that bed is right there. It’s much nicer than my bathtub. You deserve it. I’m just a loser otaku, but you’re the human who brought my family back together.” He took a small step back.

“Don’t he ridiculous. There’s room for both of us. If it helps, we can just sleep facing opposite ways. Besides, you know Mammon would kill to be in this room with me right now, sharing a bed with me. You could totally use this chance to brag, Levichan.” You giggled, skipping your way into the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Be out shortly.” You took your toiletries bag into giant bathroom. Levi pondered for an amount of time he wasn’t sure of, but was jolted out of thought by a knocking on the bathroom wall. Turns out, the shower had a window in it that faced the bed. You were doing a little dance in front of it with just a towel on, poking fun at him. After he covered his eyes and screamed at you to stop, you shut the window curtain so you could actually shower.

Once you were done, he had already unpacked all his things and took his own turn. The bathroom was very luxurious, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Mc and how he was going to be brave and share that bed with them. It was just to rub it in Mammon’s face, he told himself.

When he got out, you were spread out in the bed with a few snacks from your bag and his Devilswitch. “Up for a few rounds before bed, big guy?” He couldn’t say no to you. In his scramble to win every game you two played, and haze of the long day of traveling, he totally forgot about behind nervous. It only crept back in once you’d fallen asleep on his arm, remote still in hand. He froze, unsure what to do.

But, he knew he had to act because with the long day you two had tomorrow, he had to get to bed as well. As he moved to get up to clear the bed of everything on it, you grumbled and grabbed his arm. He began to internally scream, and almost externally too. He was sure he was very red. So, instead, he just moved everything onto his bedside table, and pulled the covers over both of you.

He was stiff under the covers at first, but the more you snuggled into him, the more relaxed he found himself getting. Maybe it was because he was getting more sleepy by the passing seconds, but he almost found himself enjoying the affection. He bid sleeping you goodnight.

Maybe this is what his good luck ladybug meant.

[chronurgy]

Gortash Week Day 6 - Dealer's choice/AU (childhood)

She doesn’t know for sure that the boy living in her house is her son. She birthed him, sure, remembers that as well as anything. But if she hadn’t been there for it, she wouldn’t’ve picked this boy out as hers. He’s not like them. Not like her, not like his father. Not like anyone around the place, really.

When he was a baby, he was always screaming. Shrieking and fussing about some thing or another. And he was ravenous. Always grabbing her breast when he was smaller, never content to leave her be. Once he was old enough to eat solids, he would cram any piece of food he could get his greedy little hands onto into his hungry maw without so much as a by your leave. Like a bottomless pit, he was. And never grateful for any of it, either, the little snot. He stole, too, once he was big enough to reach the counters. How many times had she whacked his wandering hands with a spoon while cooking? Too many to count. And sometimes she’d catch him wolfing down some piece of food out in the alley behind the house she knew he couldn’t have stolen from her kitchen. She’d punish him for it, of course, give him a few good licks and lock him in the house, but he always got back out again eventually.

He was eerie, the boy that was supposed to be her son. Something lurked behind those dark eyes that spooked her. He just watched, watched them all unceasingly. At least when he wasn’t absorbed in one of those books of his. She’d certainly never taught him to read something like that, pages upon pages of dense little text and words near longer than her forearm. She’d taught him proper useful stuff, easy sums and enough reading to get by. He’d taken to it like a fish to water. And he just loved to flaunt it. Doing sums in his head, divisions even, without even counting on his fingers. He’d wait just long enough, long enough for it to be clear that she was struggling, counting on her fingers, before he'd announce the answer in that lackadaisical tone of his. He had no respect, that boy. He’d wormed his way into doing the store’s books and as soon as he had squirmed his way in, he’d started making demands, like he had the right. “Get a different leather supplier, Father” this, and “We haven’t got the money for that this month” that. Insolent boy! What right had he to tell his parents – they who fed him and clothed him and kept a roof over his head – what they ought to do? What would a child even know about money? And no matter how often they told him to shut it, the boy insisted on clinging to the purse strings tight as a miser’s fist.

And he lied, she knew he did. She couldn’t prove it, but she knew. A mother always knows. She’d found some complicated little toy stuffed under his bed, something she knew she certainly hadn’t bought him. She didn’t see the point in such fiddly mechanical bits of junk for children. When she’d confronted him about it, told him he couldn’t be stealing things like that, the boy’d had the very nerve to insist that he’d made it himself. Sometimes a bit of punishment would get him squealing, get him to admitting the nasty things he’d done. But just to spite her, the wretch had refused to admit his lies. He’d curled his stringy body around the thing as though to protect it and not spoken a word, barely even let out a whimper. Even when she’d got her hands on the thing, even then he’d refused to give up the lie. She’d had no choice but to smash it. She couldn’t have something like that in the house where the guard might find it and know it was stolen. Then he’d begged. Then he’d screamed. But even then, he had refused to tell her the truth. He’d had the nerve to fake tears for the dammed piece of junk, as though he’d cared about the damn thing. And when she’d told him to stop with the crocodile tears, he’d had the audacity to pretend to be afraid of her, cowering there with his hands over his head like he’d thought she would beat him. She’d seen the gleam in his eye though. She knew it was all some petty child’s manipulation. The lies never stopped with that whelp.

Her husband has debts, she knows this. She doesn’t trust the boy, not at all, and she checks and double checks every bit of work he does on the books. She knows they’re deep, deep in the hole and only getting deeper with every month that passes. She also knows that there isn’t a way out, not for people like them. And then a woman arrives. She arrives at their shop one day, a day when Enver is out of her hair and off on the streets doing things only the gods know about. She’s short, with long, beautiful dark hair, hair like she’d had before her husband and that boy had turned her grey before her time. “I bring the solution to all your problems,” the woman had said without prompting.

And oh, she had. She really, really had.

[arson-09]

tonights acotar thoughts are with the Illyrian women and how rhysand has utterly failed them despite his supposed efforts

Hes ‘allowed’ them to become warriors if they wish. But thats not even the bare minimum. from my memory he acknowledges that he doesnt enforce the wing clipping laws (smooth move) so that’s basically useless and as to be expected of a man, he misses the point of feminism and equality laws. WHERE are the laws and protections for women in marriages?? if the illyrian are so ‘brutal’ and ‘backwards’ the assumption can be made that divorce isn’t a thing unless the man requests it. No women requested divorces and probably no such thing as no fault divorces. As well as forced marriages (which also brings up the consent age) Adding on, what about abortions and other pre natal and natal laws and protections? again, assuming women arent allowed to have abortions or simply any bodily autonomy, where are those decrees rhysand? Im not even getting into the potential of LGBTQ+ illyrians and their rights (Logically there are LGBTQ+ illyrians but ofc sjm wouldn’t mention them)

He makes such a fuss about it being a womans choice (a hypocrite as we see in acosf) yet unless a woman is able too or wants to fight he doesnt seem to care. Which is also a major flaw of sjms writing, women only gain their independence if they can kick ass and fuck as they want. Which is of course valid but thats a very shallow way to view feminism and equality. The whole point is that a woman can choose, wether its to be a warrior or a stay at home mother, but theres nothing done for those women who want that lifestyle.

This has influenced me in my fic writing a lot to where a this topic has become a major focal point in my fic somewhat by accident. I think that logically there would be a rebellion from mostly illyrian women against rhysand, hes promised them so much yet has delivered so little.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

Title: The Tradition of You and Me

Pairing: Alex Turner/Miles Kane

Summary: One summer, Alex and Miles watch the Euro Cup together. It becomes something of a tradition. Tags: Fluff, Smut, Developing Relationship

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

so a couple of months ago @daddy-long-legssss made this post about miles and alex watching the euro cup together in miles's mr bridger designs and... well, this happened. it was meant to be a short drabble fic, but it's me, so naturally feelings got involved and it's now 4,000+ words 😅

i know it's been taking forever for me to post the next chapter of four walls (i'm so sorry, it really is SO nearly there, but it probably will still be about a week before it's actually ready for posting), so i thought i'd share this in the meantime! i hope you enjoy, if you feel like it then feedback would absolutely make my day 🥰

[mylarena]

kicks feet. wolf shifter au but its just soap whos a shifter and ghost is a regular human who does not know that the weird wolf who keeps showing up at his little cabin/cottage in the woods is actually john from the repair shop in the nearest village.

either that or soap just isnt present in the village at all and spends a lot of time in the fuckin woods

but like. ghost is tending to his vegetable garden one day and feels keen eyes watching him, so he observes the area around himself subtly and theres a rustle in the brush so he zeroes in on that while he goes through the motions of weeding and watering and such. and eventually he feels the eyes on him leave. so he finishes his work and goes inside (made sure to lock the door that night)

he goes out again the next day to do his tasks and eventually feels the same gaze on him. but he just pretends he doesnt know something (someone) is watching him and continues his work. eventually they leave again, and he continues on.

this happens a few more times, then one day he can actually see the eyes in the bushes. he makes eye contact, holds it until the other pair of eyes blink, then continues with his business (never turning his back to the creature)

and sllloooowly over time, the creature inches its way out of the cover of the bushes. and its the biggest fucking wolf ghost has ever seen in his damn life.

eventually the wolf just sits right outside the fence of his garden. and he starts talking to it. its not often he gets any kind of visitors out in the woods, and hes a bit of a Lone Wolf ™️ type so he doesnt really mind,,, but theres a fuckin wolf. right there. a huge ass wolf. and he starts making comments to it. which turns into full sentences, then one-sided conversations of whatever he thinks of.

then one day the wolf is inside the fence. with no evidence of how it got in. the gate is still latched, theres no holes in the fencing, no marks left from and kind of scrabble over the wood.

but the wolf is just There. Sitting. Waiting for him.

and hes apprehensive at first because theres nothing between him and this wild fucking wolf. but he goes about his day and the wolf just follows him around the garden, somehow managing to not trample a single plant (ghost sees how hes exceedingly careful to not even brush his tail against them. weird.)

by the time the sun is going down, he opens up the gate for the wolf to leave, and he just looks at him for a long moment, before ghost gestures his head for him to leave, and he does.

and the next day hes back in the fuckin garden

whats even weirder about the whole situation is the fact that the wolf engages in the conversations. not speaking words, but replying with barks and growls and whines and gestures, gestures that arent natural for a wolf, gestures that are human.

the wolf slowly inches his way closer and closer every day, eventually daring to sit right up against ghosts leg when hes taking a break. then he sets his head on his knee and looks up at him and pretty much fucking pouts until ghost hesitantly places a hand on his head. his fur is fucking soft. silky smooth, fluffy down his back, and soft as a fuckin cloud.

now that hes up close, ghost can see little scars and features that he couldnt from a distance. hes got nicks in his ears, a scar on his chin, one going over his eye, and one that looks fairly new down his chest.

some days the wolf (ghost just calls him "Wolf" in his head. he's not gonna name the fucker.) doesnt visit. ghost pretends it doesnt strike a bit of concern in him, forces himself to focus on his tasks instead of worrying about the animal.

hes a fucking wolf. he lives in the wild. he can handle himself.

what really concerns him, though, is when a harsh thunderstorm hits. its raining hard, the trees are thrashing violently in the wind, and the rumbling of thunder gets ever closer.

hes stuck inside, knowing better than to try and do jack shit outside when the wind is strong enough to take him off of his feet.

but for once he doesnt worry about his crops or the chair he keeps on his porch- he worries about Wolf.

again, wild fuckin wolf, can handle himself, but the weather is absolutely abysmal.

so ghost cant help but pace around, having forgone his usual reading after he couldnt focus on what the words on the pages were because his thoughts were consumed with worry.

the thunder is louder than ever, the lightning is absolutely blinding, and he can hear how the fence gate outside is swinging madly in the wind, having opened when the weather started growing worse. he cant hear his own breathing, the only thing he can hear is the torrent of rain and howling of the wind and his heart thumping in his chest. its a fucking wonder that he actually manages to catch the scratching at the door.

he freezes in his pacing, listening in silence for the noise to happen again, and when it does he all but rushes to the door and swings it open (the wind did most of the work, quite frankly.), and there. Wolf, soaked to the fucking bone, ears flat to his skull. ghost stares, Wolf stares back, and then theres a blinding flash of light and a deafening clap of thunder, and hes reaching out and dragging Wolf inside.

he struggles with the door for a moment, fighting against the wind, but gets it close and latched. he turns to the wild fucking wolf that stands in his actual fucking house, takes in the sight of his violent shivering and dripping pelt, and swears as he jolts into the motion of getting a towel or two to try and dry him off.

when he kneels in front of the dog, dropping a towel on his back and starting to ruffle his fur dry with it, he starts talking. talking about the shit weather, about the damage thats surely going to come to his garden, about his concern about Wolf himself, how worried he was. as he rambles, he takes note of the scratches and scrapes that hide under Wolf's thick pelt. theyre all small, likely from branches and other debris flying around while he made his way to the cabin.

theyre all small, except for a gash across the flank of his left hind leg. ghost can see the blood mixing with the rain water that pours off of him, but only realizes where the wound is when Wolf yelps when he tries to dry the spot.

he apologizes quietly, and quickly finishes drying him the best he can. he sits back on his haunches and takes in the sight of Wolf- his fur ruffled far more than usual, his blue eyes that are filled with exhaustion and lingering fear, the blood thats already starting to make its way down to the hardwood floor, and the way hes trembling like a leaf. he looks ready to fall down right there in his place. so ghost stands after giving the wolf a scratch behind the ear, and ushers him towards the crackling fire thats keeping the place warm. Wolf staggers over, managing to keep himself upright up until ghost finishes laying out a blanket on the floor for him, then practically collapses on it.

ghost heads to where he keeps his medical supplies, grabbing everything he thinks hes going to need to patch up Wolf (hes never treated an animals wounds before. hopefully it isnt too different from patching up his own). when he steps back into the room, he takes a moment to stare at the bizarre scene in front of him. a massive wolf collapsed right in front of his fireplace, eyes closed and chest nearly heaving, surrounded by ghosts neatly arranged living room furniture and bleeding onto one of his favorite blankets. shit, hes bleeding still.

spurred into action, ghost crosses the room in a few quick strides and kneels next to Wolf again. "hey," he whispers softly, watching Wolf open his eyes to look at him, "im gonna patch up your leg, yeah? might hurt a bit. ill be careful." Wolf simply whines softly, closing his eyes once more. ghost runs a hand down his side, then shifts to take a better look at his leg.

the wound isnt incredibly deep, but as he cleans it ghost can tell that itll need stitches. fuck, how is he meant to give a wolf stitches without getting his fucking face mauled off? Wolf had been docile and friendly ever since they met, but ghost also hadnt tried to poke him with a needle and thread before.

he cant just leave him without them, though. hes not keen on letting Wolf be injured and bleeding any longer than he needs to be.

"hey, Wolf," he reaches over and taps the side of Wolf's neck, "i need to stitch up your leg. are you alright with that?" ...as if a fucking wolf is going to know what that means. but Wolf lets out a whimper at his words and fucking nods at him, eyes still shut. alright then.

he prepares everything he needs, taking a look at Wolf's face and giving him a gentle scratch under his ear. "this is gonna hurt," he shifts back to look at the wound, "please dont maul me."

and Wolf doesnt. he whines and whimpers and growls a bit, baring his teeth and thrashing his head, but he never tries to attack ghost and he even keeps his leg fairly still. the whole process ghost whispers apologies, reassurances and praises. when he finishes, he wraps a bandage around the leg then sits back. "we're done now, its over." ghost looks over Wolf as he lets the tension in his body release, listening to his long, relieved whine as he goes limp. "you did good. thanks for not chewing my face off." Wolf simply huffs at him.

he stares a moment longer, but a loud hit of thunder breaks him out of it. he had fixated so intensely on Wolf that he had entirely tuned out the raging storm that was still going on.

he sighs and collects the leftover medical supplies, standing to put them away. instead of making his way back to Wolf's side, he decides that the wolf is probably hungry as all hell and heads towards his kitchen instead.

he prepares a quick, simple meal for himself and his visitor: reheated venison & vegetable stew, leftover from the night before. he carries two bowls back to his living room, crouching and placing one in front of Wolf. "here." ghost watches his nose twitch as he catches a whiff of the stew. the wolf doesnt open his eyes, though. "dinner, Wolf. i know youre hungry." Wolf opens his eyes and looks up at ghost pleadingly. "whats that look for? i cant exactly feed you myself. you need to sit up." Wolf whines at him imploringly. "no. i cannot feed you by hand, youre gonna have to sit up." Wolf downright groans, bracing himself before pulling himself up until hes propped on his front paws. ghost pushes the bowl closer to him. "eat up."

once Wolf sniffs at the stew, he practically lunges forward and starts devouring it. ghost stares with a raised eyebrow for a second, then turns to his own bowl and begins to eat.

they eat in silence- as silent as it can be with a hell-raising storm outside and the sound of a giant wolf gobbling down a bowl of stew. when Wolf finishes literally licking the bowl clean, he flops back down onto his uninjured side. ghost continues to eat, obviously not half as hungry as him. when he finishes, he picks up both bowls and takes them back to his kitchen. ghost takes a moment to place his hands on the counter and lean on it, running through the events of the past hour. theres a fucking wolf in his livingroom. an injured wolf. a wolf that befriended him over the past few months. a wolf he doesnt feel like he can kick out of his house without proper treatment.

he sighs and runs a hand over his face. hes too fucking tired for this shit. he feels unreasonably exhausted just from the excitement of this whole ordeal. he decides he can deal with the situation in the morning, after hes gotten proper sleep.

when he steps back into the living room, Wolf is asleep, chest rising and falling steadily as he breathes. ghost watches him for a moment before giving a heavy sigh. he grabs another blanket off of his couch and throws it over the wolf, hoping the fire doesnt go out overnight and cause Wolf to get cold. he makes his way to his bedroom, getting ready before throwing himself down onto his mattress and staring at the ceiling for a few moments before passing the fuck out.

he wakes in the morning to sunlight filtering through the window into his eyes. he groans and rolls out of bed, pulling a shirt on and stumbling out of his room. he only remembers that theres a fucking. wolf. in his living room when he steps into it. its a bit jarring to see that said wolf isnt there. its even more jarring to see a full fucking grown man asleep in the wolf's place, haphazardly spread out on the ground, nothing but the goddamn blanket to cover himself. ghost thinks he can see a peek of white bandages wrapped around his thigh. he takes a deep breath to center himself.

"what the fuck."

[dearlawdimasimp]

Master Sorcerer of Kindness and Humility

Pairings: MK System x Sorcerer!Reader, Khonshu x Sorcerer!Reader

Warnings: English isn't my first language, Spanish is from google translate

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Summary: Things in the Sanctum Santorum has been…pretty fucking hectic lately. To put it simply, chaos is in every fucking corner and as a Master Sorcerer of one of the Sanctums in the world, you have to assist the Sorcerer Supreme. Some things are still the usual, but double the effort. Like teaching the new recruits, now, from three different Sanctums instead of one, keep said recruits from the restricted area of the library, guarding the said restricted area of the library and the whole library itself.

With your growing exhaustion, so did the worry of the moon boys grew.

a/n: Hai so uh it has been awhile since i posted eheh I just noticed i have MANY rotting fics in my docs so decided to post now ( ´∀`)/~~ Enjoy lovelies! (^o^)／~💜 (this fic is crossposted on AO3 under the same title and author name ^-^)

Things in the Sanctum Santorum has been…pretty fucking hectic lately. To put it simply, chaos is in every fucking corner and as a Master Sorcerer of one of the Sanctums in the world, you have to assist the Sorcerer Supreme. Some things are still the usual, but double the effort. Like teaching the new recruits, now, from three different Sanctums instead of one, keep said recruits from the restricted area of the library, guarding the said restricted area of the library and the whole library itself.

The supposed assigned sorcerers for each class told you that they are needed on a mission across the globe and are in need of a substitute, of course being the kind soul that you are you agreed on subbing them for the meantime while they're off to save humanity. The library duty has always been yours though, you volunteered on the job when Wong said he needed someone to take his place as he takes the Sorcerer Supreme, and ever since the world has gone back to its normal state, you remained as the librarian.

Your overloaded schedule leads to early mornings and late nights, and less time with your moon boys™.

To say that they are concerned of your health is a bit of an understatement, they're fucking worried as every time they see you, your eyebags grow darker and puffier than the last time.

But, somehow, even with all the things going on with you (only knowing what you are allowed to talk about), you still insert a little bit of your time to cook Steven his favorite breakfast before he goes to work, you still brew up Mark's favorite coffee, prepare Jake's uniform for his side-job during the night as a limo driver, and bring Khonshu offerings on the small altar you've made for him that is purposefully placed on the windowsill where the moon usually shines.

They are thoroughly impressed, but at the same time endlessly worried as your eyes grow weary and exhausted each time you enter the flat.

However, you still have the same warming smile on your lips every time you greet them after work. Joy was etched into your tone as you kissed them and mingled with them for a few hours, dismissing their worries with gentle eyes and kept on insisting that you love your job. You even still have the fiery stare whenever they tell you to rest and let them handle the dishes, which diminishes when Khonshu lays his hand on your shoulders, coaxing you to rest. The god pulls you to the shared bed and once your head hits the plush white pillows, you're out like a light.

The system continues to take care of cleaning the kitchen before joining their sorcerer in deep sleep and joining you in the dreamworld for a while before the Lunar deity of Egypt pulls them to another night of being his fist of vengeance. They would be back and join you once more in bed, and let sleep pull them to its cocoon. And you wake up not an hour later to start the day.

And this went on for a few more days before the moon boys decided to put an end to this. Their last straw was when you had fallen asleep mid-conversation while in front of your food. You were in that level of exhaustion to the point that you couldn't keep yourself awake while eating. They drew the line at that.

They carefully laid your slumbering self down on the bed before donning on the suit, “We'll be back, hermosa.” Jake held your hand and kissed your knuckles tenderly. “We just need to have a bit of a word with them, love, don't worry.” Steven gently lays your hand down on your stomach and leaves a kiss on your forehead before Marc leaps out of the window and out to the London air as Khonshu guides them with his wind to the London Sanctum.

The trip wasn't long before they landed on the Sanctum's roof. The place was brimming with magic and the system could feel it. Marc tries to enter through the window but the scenery changes before his foot lands on the stained glass. A confused and ungraceful landing led him to curse under his breath as he observed his surroundings.

“Be vigilant, Spector.” The god throws caution to the wind, his rumbling voice echoing in the minds of the system. Marc keeps his snarky remark to the god to himself, wanting to tell the god he knows what he's doing. He rolled his eyes instead as he composures himself, and inspects the room they are in.

The place is reminiscent of those temples that houses holy relics, it was old but in tip-top shape. The floor below him looks furnished and one that can be compared closed to an old mansion, and the slabs holding what he thinks are relics had intricate wood carvings were carefully placed on both sides of the hallway he's in. It was leading to an illuminated room and so he took no more than a second to head to the light.

His eyes wandered around the hallway he's walking down in, Steven was gushing at the designs while he and Jake kept silent and kept an eye for any threat.

The room they entered was spacious, save for the relics enclosed in glass and the big circle window that allowed the moonlight to fill the space. It had intricate swirls which Marc remembers, was the same design of the brooch you have on your collar.

However, it wasn't the window that had caught their attention but rather the man behind it, who was eerily calm while peering out the glass. The London night visible to the man that had a red cape that's barely touching the wooden floors.

“An unexpected visit from the Knight of Khonshu himself. You know, you're lucky you're under the protection of the Master Sorcerer here in London.” The man states with a booming voice, bouncing off the walls and glass in the room. It was humorous, but full of threat.

“Or else what?” Marc quips inattentively, keeping distance from the sorcerer who had yet introduced himself.

“Or else I would have thrown you to the ocean the moment you stepped foot on the Sanctum.” The man's baritone voice lowered an octave as he turned to finally meet Moon Knight's glowing eyes.

He had a goatee and the robes he wore were akin to their beloved but in the deep shade of blue instead of your favorite color.

Goatee. Red cloak. This was the Stephen Strange you can't stop complaining about.

A dry chuckle escaped his lips through his masked face. He believes the sorcerer's powers alright, he just can't keep a straight face after the memory of you audibly cussing Strange out had just played in their minds.

“Right,” Marc takes out his crescent daggers from his chest, “I'm only here-”

“Trust me you don't want to fight me.”

“Let us finish, pendejo!” Jake growls as he fronts, not wanting to waste more time and to get out of the place as soon as possible.

They weren't planning to fight. They weren't stupid. They can feel every ounce of energy and magic in the building. They stepped into a lion's den. But if it is what it needs for these sorcerers to hear them? They will face these magic wielders head on.

It seemed that Strange was a bit perplexed at the alter's rage or maybe it was the suit change, but they couldn't care less.

“We're only here because that Master Sorcerer you talked about is always on the verge of passing out every time they go home.” Marc's jaw clenches under the mask as he continues with a step forward to the sorcerer—who promptly took a step back— as his fingers flex around the sharp gold crescent on his hand, “For the past weeks they have been wrung out and just a while ago, had passed out while eating.” When he finished his sentence the room was suddenly swept with a wild draft, with no windows open.

They were not able to notice the confused and worried squint of the former sorcerer supreme's eyes as Marc continues, his tone nothing but purely scathing.

“My point is, We will not be allowing them to come to work tomorrow and until she gets the proper rest she deserves, and not until you fix her schedule that is ethical and appropriate hours of work.” He ends his spiel right in front of the sorcerer, looking up to him with a keen glare, his glowing ivory eyes illuminating the sharpened features of Stephen Strange.

“Or else?” The sorcerer rasps as he stares right back at the avatar, standing his ground, and using the exact words back to the stark white cloaked man.

As if on cue, stronger gusts of wind shakes the glass covers and uncovered relics. The Egyptian God of the Moon materializes behind the sorcerer and with a booming, bitter voice, he answers, “Then you will face the consequences of causing harm to one of whom is under my protection, Stephen Strange.”

The said sorcerer turns his body to the side to glance at the moon god. In all his glory he was towering over him, moonlight was illuminating his monstrously tall and slender figure as the bronzed crescent end of his staff that is nearly scratching the ceiling reflected it. His loose, darkened, silk robe was flowing and whipping around without the presence of the wind, his crouched figure wrinkling the bandages on his torso as his bleached bird skull head tilted down and gave Stephen a hollowed stare.

With a sigh, which had displeased the moon collective and took it as an insult, he nodded to accept their terms. He honestly had no idea you had worked yourself to the bone and will consult the other Master Sorcerers and Wong of your schedule. He knew you were humble and kind, but he didn't know it would be up to the point that your.. acquaintances.. had to show up and tell them of your over-extended goodwill.

“I will inform our masters of such, thank you for bringing this to our attention.” He ends the conversation as he does not want to deal with whatever this is. He was not intimidated, not one bit—okay maybe a bit but he has faced much worse! What's intimidating him is the fact that a literal god has taken you under his wing and has gone out of his way to announce his displeasure.

“As you should.” And with that, the moon party calmed down before they vanished in a swirl of blur and whirling sand. Let's just say you were confused when you woke up late, about to dash to the bathroom before you were stopped by your moon god and gave you a letter that was sent by the Sorcerer Supreme that basically said take a break. You were perplexed as you stared at the paper then up to the moon god, who ushered you back to bed and lulled you to sleep. When you woke up you were pampered by the boys with food and cuddles, all gently forcing you to stay in bed and to let them service you for the day as they had also taken the day off. You couldn't help but tear up at their tender loving care all day and being such gentlemen for doing such. Your love for them was overflowing and you kept promising them that you would do the same to them if ever need be, which they dismissed because as they said, “Today is all about you, love. So you better descansar(take a rest), and we'll take care of the rest, sweetheart. And not just today, up until the last day of the week or maybe next couple of weeks, you got that baby?”

This has earned a heartful laugh from you and an affectionate shake of your head before pulling them into a kiss. You were puzzled and have a lot of questions as to how or why you were given a large amount of time off but you really couldn't complain especially if it meant more time with your moon boys.

Back to the sanctum however, the former sorcerer supreme was fuming at the how fucked up your schedule was and how fucked up you were for taking it even though you were literally doing the impossible, and the fact that none of the other masters pointed it out to Wong, who was also equally fuming to the masters that had asked you to cover for them for a ‘mission’ when they were just taking a fucking vacation.

"You are lucky their patron didn't know of your whereabouts, or gods knows what he will do to you.” Wong warned them, displeased and infuriated, written all over his features.

Oh but Khonshu heard, of course he did, and made those masters’ month a living hell through inconveniencing them at every chance he gets. To which Strange and Wong only but gave them a deadpanned stare of ‘deal with it’ when they asked for their help.

[vampykween]

cannot stop thinking about miscommunication between reader and ghost 🤭

like imagine being such a people pleaser for ghost that he gets mad at you for doing it but doesn’t tell you that he’s mad because he hates seeing you slowly wear out for him 🤭

honey <3 i could kiss ur little brain omg! the way this had me typing non-stop as soon as i got out of class!!! also this hits so hard for me because i am exactly this type of person yikes! and im sorry because i think i kinda derailed this from ur original idea, oops! hope you enjoy anyway <3

there was a nervous out growing in your stomach, something was wrong and you weren’t sure what. 

simon’s usually warm demeanor towards you had been replaced by the hardness of his moniker ‘ghost’. he was acting stand offish, barely giving you anything besides one-word answers, and sigh deeply at you when you tried to pry. you suddenly felt sick to your stomach, had you not been so good to simon, perfected yourself to be the very best for him? if he didn't love you, then who ever would?

~ 

it was unbearably painful to watch you tear yourself to shreds trying to impress simon. he knew how you were, how you wanted so badly to be the best for everyone. but somehow you were never able to just be the best for yourself. over the year that simon has known you, he has watched you hallow out into the shell of the person you once were, or the person you could actually be had you not tried so hard to be his best little lap dog. 

there was a war raging in his mind, how could you do this to yourself. strip yourself of the soul that made him fall in love with you, to what? be perfect for a man as defiled and beaten down by life as him. 

~ 

after a dragging day of tedious paperwork and training sessions, simon was more than ready than to sink into your embrace. perhaps cuddle up and rewatch love,actually for the millionth time - a favorite of yours. but when he shed his boots by the door he was confused as you usually would trot down the stairs by now to greet him. maybe you were napping? he called out your name and when was met with resounding silence his heart began to race; had the day finally come? had his gruesome nightmares finally become his reality? 

he reached the door to your shared bedroom and frantically threw open the door and his heart plummeted momentarily, until he picked up on the faint sound of your crying behind the bathroom door. 

“love? are you okay?” the lights were off and when he tried the doorknob it was locked. what could’ve possibly happened in the hours he was gone to make you lock yourself away from him? 

“darlin’ please just open the door, i’m worried ‘bout you,” your boyfriend pleaded sadly. 

you let out a shaky huff and managed to unlock the door from where you were crouched down near the vanity. he moved towards you instantly, only able to make out the tear stains on your face and the redness of your eyes from the subtle light pouring in from the bedroom. you turn away from him, feeling unnerved by his concerning gaze. 

“please…don’t look at me, just go away,” you mumbled weakly. you hated him seeing you like this: pathetic and emotional. if he gave you just a minute more alone you could compose yourself and go back to being his perfectly poised girlfriend. 

“‘m not gonna leave, there’s clearly something’ goin on with you baby.” 

the thickness of his accent always strengthens when he’s soft with you as if he’s reaching deep into his soul and pulling from a time when he was sweetest; a young little boy from manchester, accent think and yearning for love. you could feel your throat constricting and your eyes pooling with more fat tears, and suddenly the dam bursts and you wail into his chest. 

“please- please don’t leave me, i promise i’ll be better. i’ll do anything, please i can’t-,” you’re cut off by a deep hiccup and simon grasping your face in his hands- not painfully but commanding you to look into his eyes. 

“love, what- why do you think i would leave you? and be better? what are you on, what would you need to be better about?” 

you stare at him with wide eyes, puzzled by his response. you had been expecting him to tell you this was it, that he was finally done with putting up with someone who would never be good enough for him. 

“you’ve been so distant with me lately. i thought i wasn’t being good enough for you. that i wasn’t good enough for you. im trying so hard to be better, be different, be the best for you and i’m sorry-“ 

“stop, oh my god, stop it please.” the older man effectively halts your self deprecating monologue. “it hurts me, that you think you wouldn’t ever be enough for me when you’re everything i’m not even sure how i even deserve. and i’ll admit i’ve been distant, but only cause i’m frustrated at you. not because i don’t love you, but because i do and everyday i watch you carve out pieces of yourself in order to please me. and love,” he wipes at the tears steadily flowing down your cheeks and smooths down your hair. “i  hate seeing you rid yourself of everything i love about you, to turn yourself into something i never asked you to be.” 

you’re taken aback by your boyfriend’s response. it never occurred to you that he might just love you for who you are, that you didn’t need to change in order for him to want you around. maybe you feel this way because your past partners always ‘loved’ you best when you were the exact copy of their mothers or whatever completely unattainable standards they had. maybe you’re sat sobbing in your boyfriend’s arms because you couldn’t read his emotions well and your mother was a minefield to be around and you never knew what to anticipate. but you also know that despite your shitty past and his, you have someone looking you in the eyes and saying ‘there’s nothing i want more than you as you are’. 

you wipe at your face, as if you could wipe away the pain of insurmountable self-hatred and trauma. “okay, i’m okay. so, you do still love me? because i swear simon i can do whatever you ask of me, i just can’t- i just can’t bear for you to not love me.” despite his earlier words you’re still grappling with the need to please him, to be so good he has no choice but to love you forever and to never leave you. 

“my love, i loved you yesterday, today, and will love you every day for the rest of my life. i can’t let you kill yourself, just to make me happy. in fact, it doesn’t make me happy at all. i love you for who you are, and that’s not gonna change, yeah?” 

you know that if you try to speak, you’ll try to fight him on this, so instead you nod your head fervently until he pulls you until a bruising kiss, that momentarily melts away all your worries. 

[ultravioart]

What's your point?