#Truth be told - this is for the best. Regardless of how awful it is right now. It's for the best.

[nehts]

Worst thing about today - other than missing out on time that could have been spent with the wife due to the dog-sitting job - is... well.

Despite being... utterly disgusted with the stardew guy, I still wanted to call today as I’ve. needed the subservience - the fact that he is so... obviously in love with me, and makes it. painfully clear constantly is... appreciated. It helps. It keeps the grief away, even if only temporarily.

How to explain it? I don’t like him due to the fact that it will end terribly - for him, because he does not truly know me and loves a mask that he has mistaken as my entire self - and for me, because... I subconsciously recognised a watered down shadow of. the lost dynamic that I grieve for. Yet.

...Yet. It is still remains as a shadow of it. There’s... parts that I can... compare to what used to be - parts that I miss terribly. And. the fact that he is simply ignoring me... hm.

#Truth be told - this is for the best. Regardless of how awful it is right now. It's for the best. #It... isn't. good right now though. #The exact opposite really. #I wanted to spend time... pretending. Even for a second. Even if it's worse afterwards - I wanted a few seconds of calling and acting... #as if all was well. As if things would be alright. #But. due to my. general. avoidance of... the entire situation. #After the realisation - I could not. stand to see him for a while. I couldn't stop recognising various parts. #Felt. disgust for the entirety of how we work together. #But. Every sunday - even if it would not end well - I still... looked forward to the ability to. #Pretend. for a second. #You know what? Perhaps I do want to self destruct. Maybe I do need to drink a hell of a lot. #I tried not to think about it. but. well. I have nothing else right now. #Absolutely nothing else in this current moment to think about. #I'll leave him soon. No point in continuing on if he's not responding due to a few days of silence on my end. #Would have been fine - on my end as of right now - had he simply... told me. that he'd need a while. #That today was cancelled. But he did not respond whatsoever to my messages asking about it. #So! I kept my plans wide open today. #Enough thinking and typing. Just... going to bury it all under. a hell of a lot of intoxication.

[msgexymunson]

Flash

Dom!Eddie x Sub!Fem!Reader

Description: A game of Truth or Dare takes a spicy turn when you're dared to flash Eddie Munson

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI or you'll be struck by lightning, boob/nipple play, f!fingering, m!masturbation, I think that's it? Reader uses she/her pronouns

A/N: this is from this ask, sorry it took so long, I had to wait for inspiration to strike! Comments and reblogs are the highlight of my day, please and thank you.

2.2k words

Masterlist

The sound of giggles dominated the room, along with distant bass from speakers a few rooms away. Sitting with your red solo cup in hand, you're in a circle with a few of your closest friends. The party was starting to feel lame, so someone had suggested Truth or Dare, and now everyone was laughing at you.

"Seriously? Out of all the boys at school you pick Eddie Munson? Why?" Your best friend Tiffany was laughing the most, which irked you a bit to be honest.

"I dunno, he's just, different, and kinda hot! Anyway that's not part of the game." You huff, feeling a little exposed. Taking a sip of your cheap beer you shudder. It was warm, you had been nursing the same cup for half an hour.

"I heard he was a Satanist, part of some weird cult thingy." Jennifer said, nodding sagely.

"Bullshit, he's just a nerdy freak!"

"Nah it's TRUE, Jason told me!"

"Anyway, back to the game dummies!" You desperately try to change the conversation. It's not like you knew him, you didn't at all really. He was intimidating, but it was in a way that made your thighs clench.

You dared Melissa to do a shot, not the most original but you know she's terrible at them and it might serve as a distraction. Luckily she coughed at the wrong time and vodka came out of her nose. Shrill giggles filled the room again and you started to relax. Melissa then chose Tiffany, who regaled them in how she lost her virginity to Andy on the basketball team.

She then turned to you with a deviant grin.

"Truth or Dare?" She smirked. Not a good sign. You didn't want to divulge any further about Eddie, it was way too embarrassing.

"Fine, Tiff. Dare."

She clapped her hands, pointing at you dramatically.

"I dare you, to flash Eddie Munson."

There was a collective gasp and the room fell silent, all eyes on you.

"Nice try dingus, but he's not here." Feeling triumphant, Tiffany says something that wipes the smile right off your face.

"He's right outside, dealing to the party."

Your stomach drops to your feet, mouth hanging open. Pressing your lips into a tight line, knowing you'll never hear the end of this regardless of if you do it or not, you take a deep breath.

"Fine." You roll your eyes and stand up.

Pretty soon you were picked up by a whirlwind of giggles; girly hands leading you outside, whispering and snickering at your predicament.

You see him now, casually leaning against the side of his van 30 feet away. There was a cigarette dangling from his lips, his large hands busy counting out notes, you assume the evenings takings. God, he really was hot.

Tiffany hollered at him, hands cupped around her mouth for emphasis. You were seriously going to get her back for this.

"Hey! Munson!"

He tilted his head up, eyes on you.

Well, here goes nothing.

You lift your top up, already braless, exposing your bare chest to him. The reaction around you is visceral. The girls are shrieking, jumping up and down. You can only hear it, your eyes are fixed on Eddie.

He's frozen, like he's in shock. The cigarette he was smoking has dropped to the floor. A pink blush is crawling over his cheeks.

Suddenly he's taking huge strides towards you. Quickly covering up, you look around to see your friends are already running full pelt back into the party, shrill laughter disappearing into the noise of the house.

Turning back, like a deer in headlights, he's already on you. You wince, getting ready for whatever awful thing he was about to say.

To your amazement, he grabs you by the chin, holding it between his strong thumb and forefinger. You stare into dark eyes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? You want someone to take advantage of you or something?"

He almost looks angry, those deep dark eyes glowering at you. Frozen in place, you make no move to answer. As suddenly as he grabbed you, he releases you, shaking his head and turning to leave.

"Please!"

Having no idea where that came from, you can only stand and stare at his now halted frame.

Turning back to face you, he crosses his arms, faint traces of amusement written over his features. 

"Please? Please what? You got the hots for the freak?" He scoffs at you in disbelief.

Fully humiliated, you feel your cheeks glow and tears sting the corners of your eyes. Eddie pauses, seeing your raw reaction to his words.

Grabbing your wrist he almost whispers, "are you drunk?"

"No, I've only had-"

"High?"

"No I've never-"

Wordlessly he pulls you bodily until you're pressed against him. You've never been this close to him before, the shock of being yanked towards him quickly being taken over by the need between your legs.

Breathlessly meeting his gaze, he searches your eyes for some unknown sign. Captivated by his forcefulness you gape at him in response, heat radiating from your core. Your nerves sing at the contact. It's almost painful, your need for him in that moment. One look into your eyes and he seems to find the answer to his question. Without further examination he's pulling you towards his van.

Opening the back doors he nods at you to enter. You crawl into the space gingerly, creeping over the pile of blankets and cushions, finding a comfortable place to sit, your stomach tying itself in knots.

Eddie closes the door behind him, soft lighting illuminating his features. The roughness of his fingertips meets your cheek again as he stretches out towards you.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah" you manage to mumble, eyes unable to meet his.

His fingers fumble at the hem of your top, rolling it higher up your abdomen.

"Show me those pretty tits again then sweetheart."

You gasp at the words, clumsy fingers reaching towards his, pulling the soft fabric over your head. You feel so much more exposed than before, his calculated gaze so much closer. There's nowhere to hide.

Eddie's hands rub gently up your sides, eyes transfixed on your bare chest.

"You've got really pretty tits."

Your pussy clenches at the praise, thighs rubbing together. He grasps your jaw and pulls you in for a hesitant kiss. Melting into him, your tongue presses delicately to his. Eddie moves his hand down to cup your bare chest. Arching your back you meet his wandering hand.

Eddie groans into your mouth, squeezing your breast, stroking at the soft skin. Nipples pebbling at the contact, you whine and wriggle.

His movements get more confident with each noise you make; pretty soon he's pushing your legs apart to slot between them, narrow hips at your pushed up knees.

Eddie plants firm kisses and tender licks down your jaw, across your collarbone, edging towards your chest. He takes your nipple in his teeth and pulls softly.

"Fuck, Eddie!" It hurts, but you weren't expecting it to be so pleasurable. Eddie smirks, running his tongue around in circles, his hand rubbing your other breast, using his knuckles to rub back and forth over the hardened nub.

You'd never had someone pay this amount of attention to you before. Most guys you had been with simply wanted to fuck, but Eddie seemed to be enjoying playing with you immensely. Not that you were complaining, quite the opposite. The hot, tight feeling already building in your abdomen was proof of that.

He moved his mouth over to the other nipple, letting a hand trail up your skirt. All of a sudden his fingers rub against your clothed clit and you moan, tipping your head back.

"Yeah? That good sweetheart?"

You don't know if he even wants a response and you don't feel capable of giving one, too focused on his ministrations to form sentences.

Then he's hooking your underwear out of the way, running rough fingertips up and down your slit collecting your slick before he pushes two fingers deep into you. You cry out at the welcome intrusion, eyes closing in ecstasy. His fingers felt so good, rough and warm. Opening your eyes you lock glances with him, your hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Eddie's staring at you, dark eyes glittering, taking in every sound, every move you make.

"Oh Eddie."

"Yeah? You like that? Shit, you like me?"

Considering he's knuckle deep in your cunt it seems an odd question. You manage a quiet "yeah."

He slows his movements, fingers dragging across your velvety walls, cunt trying to suck them back in. The pace is languid but his fingers reach deep inside you to a spot that has you panting.

In between pressed kisses to your collarbone he asks "why didn't you say anything?"

"I was, fuck, I was kinda, hmmm, scared of you, a bit."

Eddie stops moving for a second. You think that maybe you had upset him, maybe you shouldn't have opened your big mouth.

Managing to meet his gaze you stare into the dark pits of his eyes, pupils blown, facial features overrun with lust.

Without warning he grabs your throat with his free hand, face leaning onto yours.

"Do I frighten you?"

"A bit," you nod.

"Do you want me to?"

You stare at him, meeting his predatory gaze. The heat from your flushed cheeks spills out, as well as the heat between your legs. You feel your pussy clench around him at his words.

Eddie lets out a dark chuckle and starts curling his fingers into you at a ruthless pace. His other hand remains around your throat, holding you in place. You squirm at the sudden change in him, unsure if you are trying to get away or get closer to him.

Eddie nips at your lower lip making you whimper. His strong hands are pumping relentlessly into your heat. Moaning and panting you grip onto him for dear life, feeling the pressure of your arousal nearing its breaking point.

You can hear the lewd, squelching sound of your juices echoing through the van. Eddie mouths at your tits, dropping the hand that was wrapped around your throat, like he was unable to stop himself touching them for so long. He twists your nipple, mouth sucking bruises onto your breasts.

His name fills your mouth, unable to think, only feel. This moment, stretching on forever, burned into your brain, the blinding heat in your gut, the incessant pounding of Eddie's fingers into you, it's all too much. Finally, you let go, cumming with a fragmented cry of his name, clenching so hard around him it's a miracle that he can keep working you through your orgasm.

Finally, you relax, and he manages to free his digits from your tightened heat.

"Fuck, princess, are you gonna let me cum on those pretty tits of yours."

Nodding wordlessly at him, incapable of speech from the orgasm that he just ripped from you, you watch as he straddles you unzipping his jeans. You see the angry leaking head, large looking even in his hands, as he strokes furiously, eyes not leaving your chest. He comes with a high pitched hum, his release spurting out, pebble dashing your breasts and abdomen.

He tucks himself away panting softly, and climbs off you. He stares at your frame for a moment, which must only be a few seconds, but to you it feels like an age, thoroughly stripped of dignity.

"That's the most beautiful thing I've seen." He smirks, biting his lip, then reaches for an old t shirt, passing it to you.

You take it gratefully, wiping up his release and putting your own top on.

Staring at each other, you really don't know what to say. It's not like you know him, you still feel like a stranger. Maybe that's that? Maybe you've made it into the spank bank and you should go on your way?

Awkwardly, you smile at him, and go to get up.

"Well I guess I'll see you around." Feeling slightly ashamed.

He grabs you by the wrist before you can get out of the van.

"Do you maybe wanna go grab a coffee?" He looks different, nervous almost. It's a complete contrast to how he just acted, so much so it makes you giggle.

"What, now? I don't really drink coffee."

"Neither do I, I just wanna have a conversation or something, I dunno." He laughs, hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Sounds good. But I better let my friends know where I am before they send a search party."

You open the back doors of the van and step out. He perches on the back, hand moving to your waist, and pulls you in for a delicate kiss.

"Sorry if that was a bit, er-"

"Eddie, that was hot. I'm glad I flashed you."

He belly laughs at that, eyes creasing at the corners. "So am I!" 

#ms gexy writes #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie my beloved #eddie #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #stranger things x you #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female!reader

[blaisenova]

(half) brothers

Miguel O'Hara finds out the rather unfortunate truth about his biological father and makes a decision to do something really stupid, but not without properly saying goodbye first.

or

Gabriel O'Hara does not think it's cool that Miguel suddenly wants to call him his "half-brother."

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

a fun little exploration of gabriel and miguel's relationship that's inspired by this post by @/flipsidesfangs! needless to say, i was inspired.

because of sensitive content (suicidal thoughts/ideation as well as implied/referenced self-harm) the actual work will be beneath the cut, but, despite the angst, it does end happily!! gabriel and miguel brotherhood for the win!

i'd also like to apologise if any of the spanish is off at all. i've been learning it for years now, but some of the stuff i wanted to say was a bit beyond the stuff i can consistently get down just yet. i did my best to research the stuff i was unsure about, but the internet will never be as good as an actual speaker. if you speak spanish, please don't hesitate to correct me!! (thank you @/anneichigo for the correction already!)

anyways please enjoy <3

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

Maybe, before, there was a time that Gabriel would have been grateful to find out that Miguel was technically his half-brother – namely, when he’d first found out about whatever was going on between Miguel and Dana before that, too, fell apart (which, really, just proved even more that they were family; they both had the shittiest luck with women, though Miguel’s misfortune was, admittedly, a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy) – but, regardless of how much his asshole of a brother could piss him off and make him wish they weren’t related, Miguel was still one of the only good parts of Gabriel’s childhood and would always be the closest family he had.

So, when Miguel had dropped by in the middle of a nasty rainstorm (fortunately, during one of the rare occasions that their mother was out) looking an awful lot like he’d just been told his holographic dog got run over and he was ready to jump in front of the car, too, Gabriel hadn’t hesitated to bring him inside and lead him to his couch; even if the rainwater that had soaked Miguel to the bone jumped to Gabriel’s couch, as well.

There were very few times that Gabriel had seen this look on Miguel’s face – eyes distant, their red hues not hidden behind sunglasses for once, and even redder than usual, like he’d been crying – except for maybe when their parents would fight. Then, Miguel would go distant just like he was now, but, even then, he had never stopped holding Gabriel until the sound of shouts and shattering glass bottles settled back down to silence. It wasn’t often that Gabriel got to return the favour, and even less often that Miguel would let him, though he was, admittedly, kind of miffed that Miguel had chosen right now to finally take him up on the offer; getting beaten by cops didn’t exactly leave him feeling ready to take care of someone else.

It took Gabriel a few moments to collect himself and regain his bearings as he rooted through his still unfolded laundry for a towel in an attempt to save his brother from hypothermia, but, with a deep breath, he clenched the half-threadbare, yellowed fabric in his hands, and returned to the living room where he’d left his brother.

“Think fast,” he quipped, tossing the towel towards his brother in some attempt to bring him back to reality, only to flinch when the towel simply landed haphazardly on Miguel’s head without garnering a reaction.

Gingerly, Gabriel settled himself next to his brother, pausing and scooting a bit away when he felt a bit of water seeping through his pants. He fixed Miguel with a pointed look, though the look quickly turned to a frown when the older wouldn’t meet his eyes. A hand reached up, and he gently flicked one of the man’s cheekbones, mouth falling agape when even that didn’t earn a reaction.

“Dios mío, Miggy,” he mumbled, sitting up just enough to reach the towel that had landed on Miguel’s head to scrub it around enough to sop up the excess water, “And here I thought I was having a bad day.”

Gabriel removed the towel from his brother’s head, leaving behind a fluffy, tangled mop of hair that he couldn’t help but snicker at; strands of half-dry hair stuck up in the air in a gravity defying show. The short sound of laughter was enough to earn a glance from Miguel, though his eyes just as quickly darted away again, and Gabriel just caught the subtle way that his older brother’s brows furrowed even more.

With a frown, he rolled the towel up into a deadly weapon and skillfully snapped it against Miguel’s chest with soggy squelch.

That was enough to earn the older man’s attention in full as he bit out a yelp, sitting up stick straight before fixing Gabriel with a snarl, fangs bared. “¿¡Qué chingados?! What was that for?”

For all of Miguel’s ridiculous height and increasing amount of muscle that turned him into quite the intimidating figure, Gabriel just didn’t have it in him to be afraid of his own brother. Miguel may have been much bigger now, and, even without the super powers, he could have folded Gabriel easily, but that felt more like an older brother staple than just a S-Man thing.

“Mi, mi, mi,” he unabashedly mocked, towel held out threateningly in his hands. “It was for freaking me out, you dick! What the shock is wrong with you tonight?” He shrunk back a bit, a finger pointing at his brother’s fangs accusatorily. “Put those away… I’ve been beat up enough for one day.”

Cheeks reddening a bit, Miguel dropped the snarl, carefully situating his fangs back behind his lips. His voice turned more muffled, almost slurred, as he worked to keep his teeth hidden. “I shouldn’t have come here,” he bit out, venom in the words. “I should’ve just-”

“Ay, coño- Alright, Miguel, I get it,” Gabriel began, raising his hands, only to wince backwards when Miguel all but yelled,

“No, Gabriel, you don’t get it!”

Silence filled the room again, thick and tense like the humid, smog filled rain that pressed down on them outside. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed as Miguel’s widened, the light of the overhead lamp doing well to illuminate the bright red of the older brother’s eyes that had replaced the brown they used to share. In a way, it was almost poetic that the physical characteristics they shared would be ripped from them as their sense of blood bond was ripped away, too. After a few moments of tense eye contact, Miguel was the one to break it, eyes darting to the ground with a frown.

“Gabri, I’m-”

“No, no,” Gabriel cut in once more, waving what he hoped was an apology off. Bitter words rested right on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them down, forcing himself to remember the uncharacteristic distance that Miguel had entered the house with. “Help me understand, then.”

Suspicion flashed behind Miguel’s eyes as he forced himself to look at his brother again, though his expression softened as he didn’t seem to find the sarcastic vitriol he was searching for. His shoulders remained tense, muscles flexing and unflexing beneath his shirt in an unconscious, nervous rhythm that both impressed and worried Gabriel. Rain sounded from outside enough to make the onward stretching silence just a bit more bearable, though only for so long as seconds turned to minutes.

“Miguel?” Gabriel coaxed carefully, feeling an awful lot like he was talking to a wounded animal, a strange and novel experience with his brother who used to protect the both of them; though whatever had ended up with Miguel becoming 2099’s Spider-Man had seemed to shift something in the man he once knew, for better or for worse. “Talk to me, man. What’s going on?”

Talon tipped fingers came up to rake across Miguel’s face (which only momentarily scared the shit out of Gabriel before he realised that the claws seemed to retract when they came into contact with skin), and the older man sighed.

“I just… came to tell you that I loved you. In case something happens with the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing,” he began, a nervous waver concealed behind monotony that might have fooled anyone else, but not Gabriel. “I know things haven’t always been great between us, considering everything with Ma and Dad, and…” a beat, “with Dana too, I guess. But you’re still my brother…”

The word trailed off, and he sighed again, his fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“Coño, estoy jodiendo esto…” Miguel mumbled, so quiet that Gabriel almost didn’t hear it. “Look, what I’m trying to say is that I care about you. I wanted you to know just in case anything happened.”

If possible, Miguel only seemed to get even more tense once the words were out there, as if it pained him to say. Gabriel watched him with some semblance of disbelief, eyes narrow and mouth slightly agape. When it became clear that was all his brother was going to say on the matter, his eyes only narrowed even further.

“¿..En serio?” he squeaked out, only to backtrack as Miguel gave him an extremely pointed look. “I mean, you’re a little late on that, aren’t you? You’ve been doing the whole S-Man thing for a while now. Are you in trouble? What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Gabri,” came the response, bit out in the same way that things always were when Miguel was lying, “I just wanted to make sure you knew. That’s all.”

“No chingues, man,” he scolded, doing his best to sound angry and only succeeding in expressing his concern. “Seriously, what’s up with you? This sounds like a goodbye.” A nervous laugh fell from him and landed flat; Miguel wouldn’t even look at him, his hands wrapped so tightly around each other that his knuckles were white. Horror settled in Gabriel’s stomach, heavy and nauseating. “...Wait. Wait, Miguel-”

“Don’t be stupid,” Miguel hissed, too little and too late. There was a sort of desperation to the way he shot to his feet, eyes still anywhere but on his brother. “I have to go.”

Gabriel was quick to follow him off of the couch, grabbing onto his brother’s wrist and not letting go even when Miguel bared his fangs at him once more. “‘Go’?” he echoed. “Where are you going?”

“Let go of me,” came the hiss.

Gabriel didn’t deign to fulfil the request. “Answer my question first.”

“What are you, my mom? I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Then you’re not going anywhere.”

That earned a bonafide laugh, dark and bitter, from the larger of the brothers, and Miguel stepped closer, shoulders squared and talons out. His fangs flashed noticeably in the light as his lip curled back in a snarl as he finally met his brother’s eyes, their red almost seeming to have a faint glow to them. “You’re going to stop me?”

To his credit, Gabriel didn’t flinch. “I sure as shock am. I’m not just going to let you leave and kill yourself, Miguel.”

“You can’t keep me here,” he seethed.

Gabriel’s grip on his brother’s arm only tightened, his brows furrowing into something pained. “So, you don’t deny it, then?”

At that, Miguel’s face fell again – eyes wide and terrified – and his shoulders went tense once more. “I…” Then, all at once, the rage was back, and Miguel pulled against his brother’s grasp again, enough to pull Gabriel forward with the force. “I shouldn’t have to deny something that stupid. Let me the shock go, Gabriel, I’m not kidding.”

“And I don’t believe you,” Gabriel retorted, undeterred.

“I didn’t come here to be mothered.”

“Yeah, you came here to say ‘goodbye,’ and I’m not letting you,” he said, grabbing Miguel’s arm with his other hand and practically wrapping himself around his brother. “So help me, Miguel, I’ll latch onto you like a shocking koala. The only way you’re killing yourself is with me attached to your arm.”

“What is wrong with you?” Miguel tried again to push Gabriel off, to no avail. “You’ve already been beaten all to hell once today, do you seriously want to make it a second?”

The thinly veiled threat drew a scoff from the younger, who looked up at him entirely unimpressed as he tightened his hold on the other’s arm. “What, you’re gonna beat me up if I don’t let you commit suicide? So much for ‘you’re my brother! I love you!’”

“Half-brother,” came the shout, and that was enough to get Gabriel to pause.

“...¿Cómo dices?”

Caught off guard, his grip loosened just enough for Miguel to successfully push him off, giving him a much better view of the anguished expression on his brother’s face.

“Half-brother,” Miguel repeated, the words spat out like they were something foul.

For a moment, Gabriel could only reel at the admission, and, when he finally managed to force something out of his mouth, his voice came out equally as strained. “I… ¿Te cae?”

“Me cae.” Then, again, quiet, until Miguel couldn’t seem to take it anymore. “I was… I was furious about what that bastard Tyler Stone did to you, and I… I was going to kill him, Gabriel. I really was.” He almost seemed horrified with himself at the admission, his hand coming up to his face once more. “I was at his house. I was going to break in, and I was going to kill him. It was going to be so easy. No one would’ve known it was me, and I wouldn’t have regretted it. Not one bit” His own pathetic whine cut him off, and Gabriel, with his own muted horror, could clearly see the way tears had sprung to his eyes once more.

After a moment, he quietly – half afraid, but not in the way Miguel had so desperately wanted him to be mere moments before – pushed, “...but?”

“But Ma was there,” Miguel answered immediately, sounding rather out of breath for how much he was breathing. “Ma was there, and she blackmailed him into letting Kasey go.” A laugh; short, breathless. “I thought she was talking crazy, or lying out of her ass, like always, and I thought I was going to have to break in to save her, but Stone just laughed and- and kissed her.” His expression screwed up into something equal parts disgusted and mortified, but he didn’t pause, even for a moment. “They argued, and he admitted that all the bullshit that led up to me becoming this monster was nothing but a lie, and, as if that wasn’t enough, Ma says he’s my father. Casually. As if it didn’t mean anything. And Stone didn’t deny it.”

Cautiously, Gabriel laid a hand on his shoulder, so gently he wasn’t sure it would catch his brother’s attention. “Miguel, breathe-”

Fortunately, the feeling was enough to knock Miguel out of the horrific retelling, but the agony didn’t leave his eyes as his head darted to look at Gabriel as tears finally spilled over. “I can’t live knowing I’m his son, Gabriel. I can’t live knowing all of this was for nothing – just a lie.” His breathing hitched, almost stopping completely, as he mumbled breathlessly, “necesito morir. No quiero vivir. No lo puedo hacer. No puedo más. No puedo más.”

It was, admittedly, extremely frightening to watch Miguel – Gabriel’s older brother, and the one that had, somehow, always managed to keep it together for the both of them, even if he’d become an asshole to do it – unravel before him, nails digging into his own skin as if it was the only thing keeping him from dying on the spot. His chest heaved dangerously fast, and Gabriel could feel the way his body trembled just from the minimal contact he had with Miguel’s shoulder.

“Miguel,” he called, gently.

The word earned him no response, and Gabriel frowned, concern spiking in his chest like a too firm grasp on his heart, and he rushed to try again, louder this time. “Miguel.”

When that, too, didn’t work, Gabriel was well and truly terrified, and, without thinking, latched onto Miguel’s hands, wrenching them from their grip on his own skin and leaving crescent marks in their wake.

“Miguel!” he cried, loud enough to make Miguel jump, but finally earning the man’s attention. “Mirame. Necesitas respirar, ¿vale? Respira, güey. Si no lo haces, morirás, si quieras o no, y yo no quiero eso, ¿entiendes?”

“No puedo,” Miguel wheezed desperately, voice trembling almost as violently as his hands. “No puedo.”

“Cállate,” his brother immediately shushed, squeezing Miguel’s hands tightly. “Sí, puedes. Hazlo conmigo.” It was a fairly straight forward demand that didn’t need much of an explanation, but, even then, as Gabriel took as exaggerated of a deep breath as he could managed, he was more than a little relieved to see that Miguel was attempting to follow along, albeit shakily.

The first few breaths Gabriel managed to coax out of his brother were still shallow at best, falling back off into wheezes the moment he finished exhaling, but, after a few minutes, Miguel had managed to bring his breathing back into some sort of regular rhythm. His shoulders still shook, and his hands still trembled, but he was, at the very least, no longer on the verge of passing out, or so Gabriel hoped. Once he was sure that Miguel could manage to breathe without his guidance, he allowed his hands to slip off of Miguel’s, brows furrowed in concern.

“You okay?” he asked, going right back to that gentle tone of before.

It took Miguel a moment to answer, heaving a sigh as his hands wrapped around one another again. “...Yeah. Lo siento.”

“Ay, don’t start with that shocking ‘lo siento’ nonsense,” Gabriel immediately huffed. He almost sounded offended, probably because, in a way, he was. The idea that Miguel would ever need to apologise to him of all people for something like that. “That was a heavy discovery,” he reconciled. “It’s not your fault you freaked out over it. In fact, I’d say you earned that panic attack.”

The wording earned Gabriel a glare, which he took as a sign that his brother really was feeling better, and he returned the look with his own shit eating grin.

“Gee, thanks, asshole,” Miguel drawled sarcastically, making Gabriel snicker.

“Hey, I’m your brother. I’m contractually obligated to be an asshole to you in your lowest moments,” came the retort, and there was a certain sort of pride to the words that only seemed to lighten the mood for a moment.

Visibly deflating again, Miguel mumbled, “half-brother.”

Whatever playfulness that had managed to find its way back into the atmosphere was immediately iced once more, and Gabriel couldn’t help but frown, his grin chased away by the sombre mood. For a moment, the two were quiet again as Gabriel considered and Miguel wallowed, before he not-so-gently pinched his brother’s bicep, drawing an ungraceful yelp from Miguel who immediately swatted away the offending hand with a snarl.

“¿¡Qué mierda?! ¡Pendejo!” he all but shouted. “Have I not suffered enough today? What’s your problem?”

“Don’t call me your half-brother, stupid,” Gabriel said instead of answering. His tone left no room for argument. “There is nothing half about us being brothers.”

Apparently not having the impact Gabriel had hoped for, Miguel gawked openly, blinking in disbelief. “Gabri, were you listening to none of what I just told you?”

“Oh, my god, Miguel-”

“No, I’m serious,” he said. “Did none of that mean anything to you?”

“Yeah, actually!” Gabriel answered bluntly. He fixed his brother with a look that said he was the one being weird here that Miguel clearly didn’t buy. “Who the shock cares who your biological dad is?”

“I do!” he hissed, clearly not getting the message as he gestured to himself furiously.

“Well, I don’t!” Gabriel hissed right back, shoving Miguel’s shoulder and trying not to be embarrassed by the fact that Miguel hardly moved. “We grew up together, man. I beat you when you’re already down. It literally does not get more brotherly than that.” 

“Acting like you’re my brother does not make you my brother,” Miguel groaned back, and there was a beat as Gabriel just frowned up at him. 

“I don’t care who your ‘real’ dad is,” he repeated, making his position clear and impossible to miss. “He’s clearly just as much of a dick as the one we grew up with, and that means he’s close enough for me.”

And there was that suspicious glare again, as if there was no possible way that what Gabriel was saying could be true, and that meant he must be lying. It would have been hurtful if Gabriel wasn’t acutely aware of the fact that it was more a reflection of Miguel’s shit mental state than of him. Red eyes searched brown and were once again left without finding whatever they were looking for. For the second time, Miguel’s face fell, and he leaned forward to hide his frown in his hands.

“I don’t get how this doesn’t bother you,” he mumbled.

“Miguel, how do you want me to react? I’m being honest with you, and I don’t care. Please tell me what you want from me,” Gabriel practically pleaded. “Do you want me to have a panic attack, too? Disown you? Tell you that if you’re not my full brother that you’re not my brother at all?”

There was a short huff of what was either a laugh or a sob; Gabriel couldn’t tell which with Miguel’s face hidden the way it was. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Maybe.”

“You cannot be serious,” Gabriel deadpanned.

The tone made Miguel sit back up, frown clear as day. “I said maybe-”

Immediately, his brother cut him off, “Like that makes it any better?!”

“Wha- Doesn’t it?”

“No?!”

With a groan, Miguel raised his hands in surrender, though his expression more screamed frustration than defeat if the way his lips unconsciously twisted into a snarl said anything. “Ay, coño- Alright, alright. I didn’t mean it.”

And, for a moment, Gabriel simply studied his brother’s face again. They had the same eyes – or, at least, they used to, before brown turned to red – and the same nose. They shared their mother’s rich, caramel skin tone and prominent cheekbones, and the same deep brown hair colour that almost looked red in the right lighting. Really, they were the spitting image of one another, stress induced wrinkling included, though Gabriel, admittedly, hadn’t quite earned the few grey hairs that Miguel had already managed to grow despite only being in his late twenties. Nevertheless, Gabriel couldn’t understand how Miguel didn’t see their similarities; the things that screamed beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were related; that they were brothers.

His brows furrowed as he continued to stare, and Miguel’s furrowed in turn. He glanced between his brother’s eyes and anything else uncomfortably, hands shifting in his lap.

“...What-”

“Were you really going to kill yourself?” Gabriel interrupted instead, and Miguel immediately went tense again.

“I… was thinking about it,” he finally admitted; whisper quiet as if he was afraid what would happen if someone else heard.

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed once more, the glance of suspicion now on his brother. He could only hope his look was as effective as Miguel’s was; that Miguel’s skin was crawling just a little bit under the glare. “‘Thinking’ as in ‘the thought crossed your mind?’ Or ‘thinking’ as in ‘you actually had a plan?’”

“What difference does it make?” Miguel murmured, eyes boring holes into the floor. “I’m here. I’m not dead.”

“Miggy, I don’t think you realise how much a non-answer reveals,” Gabriel stressed a bit desperately, though he quickly cut himself off as his brother shifted.

With a growl, Miguel threw his hands up in frustrated defeat, turning his glare to Gabriel once more. It looked more tired than he probably meant for it to, and there was a pang of guilt that hit Gabriel at the realisation. “Alright, fine, yes, okay? I was going to do it,” he hissed. “I fought with Dana, and I said goodbye to you. All I needed was to see Xina, and then I was done. So what?”

“So what?” Gabriel echoed in disbelief, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, the high of frustration still pulling the words out of him with ease. “So what?”

All of the anger seemed to dissipate as Miguel caught sight of Gabriel’s face; he looked crushed, and, honestly, he felt it, too. Tears threatened to spill over onto his cheeks, and, honestly, Gabriel had half a mind to let them just to try and knock some sense into his brother. It was a bit of a petty thought, and maybe selfish, too, but if selfishness was what would keep Miguel around for another day, then so be it. He could have thrown the Spider-Man card – told Miguel that he was the only one that could save people – but it wasn’t Spider-Man that Gabriel was trying to save.

“‘Lito, eres muy estupido,” he nearly whispered, voice strained. “Me importas. Te quiero mucho. No puedes decir ‘so what’ como si no estuviera loco si estuvieras muerto. ¿A ti eso no te importa? No quiero que mueras. Te necesito.”

Miguel shook his head, brows furrowing again, though his voice didn’t have the same bite as it did before. “Eso no es justo. No es sobre ti.”

“Pero estaría herido,” Gabriel insisted, and Miguel grit his teeth, averting his gaze once more.

“Me vale verga,” he spat, the words intentionally harsh and biting.

But Gabriel didn’t believe them. “Mentiroso,” he shot back without hesitation. “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have bothered to say goodbye.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn’t have,” Miguel snapped.

Again, there was a brief moment that Gabriel really wanted to be hurt, but he’d seen enough textbook cases of Miguel lashing out because he was frustrated with himself that he didn’t believe for a second that his brother meant what he was saying. He could be upset later, when his brother’s life wasn’t on the line. They could have that conversation once they finished having the more important one.

“But you did,” he insisted once more. “No es neta que te vale verga.”

“God, you’re so shocking full of it,” Miguel bit back, face flushed a furious red that almost matched his eyes.

“Yeah, if ‘it’ is knowledge,” Gabriel huffed.

Talons flipped in and out of hiding in a frustrated rhythm that, admittedly, made Gabriel a bit nervous as Miguel continued his furious rant. “Por el amor de Dios, why the shock did I have to end up related to you? You’re the worst brother anyone could ever get the misfortune of being stuck with.”

And, really, this time Gabriel couldn’t even want to be offended because how could he do anything but grin at that? “Yeah,” he agreed, “brother.”

Anger was driven away once more – and, really when had Miguel ever been able to stay mad at Gabriel – replaced by some sort of actual defeat, and he sighed as he placed his head in his hands again, correcting himself. “Half-brother.”

“Brother,” Gabriel insisted.

As if he was too exhausted to even feign anger for the fourth time in quick succession, Miguel simply allowed a half-hearted scowl to peek out from his hands. There was a hurt behind his eyes that he didn’t seem willing to acknowledge, but Gabriel knew him plenty well enough to see it clear as day.

“What is it with you?” Miguel feebly sputtered. “I’m not worth it.”

With his own sigh, Gabriel carefully leaned against Miguel’s shoulder, peering down at him with an equally as tired look and allowing his own hurt to shine through, too. Thankfully, Miguel didn’t move to try and push him away. “Shouldn’t I be the one who gets to decide if you’re worth my effort?”

“Maybe you don’t know what’s good for you,” came the weak retort.

“Oh, yeah, bold words from you,” Gabriel shot back; a much better counter, he felt.

Apparently, Miguel felt the same, grumbling out a frustrated and almost inaudible, “touche.” He allowed his hand to slip back over his face and hide the way his eyes shut wearily. “Can I leave now?” he tried, though he certainly already knew the answer.

Nevertheless, Gabriel humoured him with a snicker, leaning even harder onto his brother as if to weigh him down. “After all this? Fat shocking chance.”

“You know I’m stronger than you, right?” Miguel hummed. “That I’ve got superhuman strength?”

Unfettered, Gabriel wrapped an arm around Miguel’s with an exaggerated yawn. “Yeah, yeah, and you’re gonna, what, beat me up?”

Miguel sat up, knocking Gabriel’s head off of his shoulder but not managing to get his brother to let go completely, much to his chagrin and, even moreso, to Gabriel’s delight. Miguel fixed him with the same suspicious look as before, though there was a certain lightheartedness to it that hadn’t been there before, something else that added to the intensity of Gabriel’s shit eating grin. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Maybe I will beat you up,” he threatened, but Gabriel was a brave man when it came to empty threats.

“You wouldn’t.”

At the very least, his unhesitant bluntness seemed to catch Miguel a bit off guard, his eyes widening for a moment before his face dropped back into a scowl. “Do you really wanna risk that?”

Again, Gabriel just yawned, being so daring as to release Miguel’s arm only to lay entirely across his lap. His eyes were half-lidded, as if he were mere moments away from falling asleep, and he made a show of settling into his position before meeting his brother’s eyes. “As a matter of fact, I think I do.”

An indignant choked sound was pulled from Miguel’s throat, though he didn’t move to stand up, which would have easily solved his problem and given Gabriel a few to deal with himself. The man crossed his arms over his chest, scowl deepening as he gave his brother the most overtly annoyed look he could possibly manage, complete with flared nostrils and a twitching vein in his forehead. Despite how many times Gabriel had drawn that exact look from the other, it still never managed to get old.

“I’m not feeling very beat up,” he teased. “Or, at least not any more than I already was.”

“Some half-brother you are,” Miguel mumbled, but he still didn’t move.

“Brother,” Gabriel corrected, allowing his eyes to slip shut.

And, a moment later, “brother,” Miguel agreed.

#blaise writes #miguel o'hara #gabriel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 1992 #atsv #astv fanfiction #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #angst #angst with a happy ending #cw: suicide #cw: self harm #neither REALLY happen but suicide is talked about a pretty good bit because miguel is fucked up #also this is majorly because i never see anyone talk about how miguel was quite literally planning to kill himself #like dude found out tyler stone was his dad and said “nah i'm done” #he can only take so much bullshit #god #i just love miguel #he's such a complicated and interested character and i so rarely see that get explored anymore #like yeah he's got fangs and talons and a phat ass but he's also got FEELINGS

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello! I just wanna say your writing is amazing, and I absolutely adore your tmc stories and writing overall it's so good!!!! I was wondering if I could get a continuation of the Adam x gn reader where they found him alongside Thatcher (maybe they drive him to somewhere safe like an inn/motel and care for him. Whether it be cuddling, reassurance, allowing him to vent. Bcuz they just don't mind him being an alternate. Regardless of what he is they care for him and want the best.) I need my boy to feel okay :(

Aw thanks! I'm surprised ya'll wanted continuations for not just one of my Adam fics, but TWO of them. It makes me happy though!

For this one, I imagine Reader finding out how truly difficult helping Adam is gonna be when he starts acting more like an Alternate, but it's a fight they refuse to give up on.

So enjoy <3

Read the first part/prequel here

..........

"Well..here we are. I told the lady we're staying several nights, but my credit card should cover it."

Opening the door to the motel room, you pocketed the key before heading inside to check things out, tossing some bags onto the table.

Adam, in the meantime, stood there awkwardly in the hallway. But after you called his name, he snapped out of his trance and entered--

Only to bump his head on the top of the doorframe and wince in pain, rubbing the spot where it hurt as he scowled at nothing specific.

After everything that's happened tonight, he forgot that his painful metamorphosis and splintering of bones made him a few inches taller...not that he considered it a plus in any way, shape, or form.

If the circumstances were different, he'd probably brag about it to everyone.

Fortunately you didn't notice his mishap, as you were making sure there weren't any TVs or mirrors in the room. Not just for your own safety, but also for Adam's sanity, too.

He couldn't stand seeing his reflection in anything; even the van's rearview mirror made him freak out when he accidentally looked at it, screeching uncontrollably and screwing up the radio's signal until you finally figured out what was wrong and covered it up.

That's the first and only time you nearly crashed the van, thank goodness.

The rest of the drive was uneventful until you found this rundown motel somewhere on the outskirts of Werksha County, deciding it's the safest place to lay low until you both figured out what to do next.

Of all things, you never expected one of your closest friends to be an Alternate--not one who recently killed him and stole his identity, but one who didn't even know what he was until this very night.

Apparently, the "Intruder" revealed that he had replaced his real counterpart at only 4 years old, his mom having been dead this entire time...and deciding that now was the time for him to 'awaken".

Though given how he was crying, screaming, and begging for death when you and Thatcher found him, it's obvious he didn't take that news very well and didn't want to be anything like them.

He lived as a human for so long..he was convinced that he is one and refused to accept his reality.

You couldn't bring yourself to hate him for something he had no control over, nor were you going to ever treat him like one of those monsters.

They were heartless and evil...and while Adam himself acted that way for the past several weeks, pushing away everyone who cared about him, you realized he regretted it deeply. Surely Alternates don't feel things like that.

Eventually you'll have to tell Sarah and Evelin the truth, and also find out where BPS goes from here.

But none of that was important right now.

Taking care of him was.

"Alright. Everything looks good...shit, even the beds look pretty decent. I'm surprised."

Blinking, Adam looked to see you plop down onto one of the beds, laying on your back. "You gotta come over here, man. I promise it's comfier than it looks."

After a bit of silence, you heard some shuffling noises and glanced at him as he limped over to the other bed. He sat down and shrugged off your BPS jacket, using it like a blanket before he curled up on the mattress, resting his head on the pillow and tucking his lanky limbs close to his chest.

In a way, he almost acted like a cat...which was kinda cute.

"Yeah I'm pretty tired, too. You need anything, Adam?" You asked.

All you got was a shake of his head in response, his eyes already closed.

'Right..we both need some sleep. I know he definitely does. We'll figure out some game plan in the morning, then..' You took off your shoes, leaving them on the floor before getting under the sheets and turning off the lamp light.

"Well..goodnight."

He mumbled something, but you assumed was also "goodnight" and eventually fell fast asleep..

Until your short-lived dream turned into a nightmare.

You found yourself standing alone in a dark void, hearing the muffled screams of your friend that sounded so close...and yet so far away. But no matter what, you couldn't find him anywhere, even as you ran and called out his name.

If anything, it felt like you were moving even further away.

Then you were halted by a figure descending from the sky--being that same mysterious angel statue you saw back in the van, except its face was covered by a black square. Its movements, however, were quite lively as it spoke to you in the same voice that claimed itself to be your "intuition".

It whispered that you could not save the "Mandela Prophet" from his destiny, even though what he did tonight was unexpected--implying that he was supposed to harm you.

But it vowed that his "disguise" will eventually shed itself..and when it does you won't be safe anymore.

You refused to believe it, instead asking what it wanted from you.

Its response?

"I want you to open your eyes"

Suddenly you woke up, heart pounding a mile a minute as you looked around the dark motel room. It took a moment to realize you were out of that horrible dream.

But then you ceased all movements as you noticed the time on the alarm clock displayed 3:33 AM in red neon....before seeing a skeletal figure sitting on the edge of your bed, uncomfortably close.

It stared down at you with white pupils rolling around in its eyes, its mouth hung open--stretching to biologically impossible proportions as it spoke in whispers you couldn't decipher, despite its mouth not moving at all.

"A-Adam? That you?"

You bravely turned on the lamp light, rubbing your eyes to see that it was indeed your friend watching over you. His mouth was back in its normal place...although you did see it wide open for a split second after light filled the room before he closed it immediately.

It did give you a mini heart attack, forgetting he was capable of something like that, though you tried acting like you never saw it at all.

"S-Sorry..I didn't mean to wake you up." He apologized, clearing his throat. "I...couldn't sleep. Fuck, how can I?"

"It's alright. I don't think I can either." Sighing, you sat up and smiled reassuringly at him. "We've been through a lot of shit tonight, and-"

"You need to kill me."

Your smile faded as you stared at him, confused when he shoved one of his pillows against your torso. It had stuffing torn out of it, the case covered in blood and saliva.

"What the--?!" You blinked, looking down in horror. "Adam, is this your bl-?!!"

"I tried it and it didn't fucking work...s-so I need you to do it for me. Please." He begged. "I've tried everything else!!"

'Is he...asking me to smother him..? Was he...actually screaming earlier?' Your heart sunk into your stomach at the realization he tried killing himself while you were sleeping, but you shook your head.

"Adam we're not having this conversation again. I can't do that to you, okay? It's not going to work, and even if it did...I just...I can't. If you think I'm okay with straight-up murdering you-"

"Just do it, [y/n]...I-I don't care how long it takes. I don't want to be your burden anymore. I just...I want this to END!!!" He panicked, growing frustrated that you weren't taking the pillow as he now kneeled in front of you, hands trembling. "I'm one of those sick fucks that took your family away! So get revenge! KILL ME!!!"

"But you're not." Your gaze softened, resting your hands over his own. "You didn't kill them. You're my friend-"

"How can you see THIS as a friend-d-d?!!" He wailed, tearing himself away from you as coarse static began to overlay his voice. "This "friend" hurt so many people...Jonah...a-and Evelin...and it's going to hurt you too if you don't stop me!! PLEASE JUST FUCKING END MY SUFFERING-G-G!!!

You desperately tried to calm him down, afraid that someone in the neighboring rooms would hear all of his screaming and howling.

But he didn't stop.

"Shhh! Adam-! Adam, please just-!!"

"STOP IT!! DON'T CALL ME THAT!!! THAT'S NOT MY NAME!! IT WAS NEVER MY NAME!! I lied to you...I DECIEVED you, and you were too stupid to realize it.."

"...h-huh?" You froze, bewildered as his face suddenly became devoid of all emotion, staring dead at your confused expression.

"You stopped that cop from putting a bullet in my head." Tears began streaming down his bony cheeks, his jaw going slack as he spoke. "You're so selfish. You're a coward. Don't you see how horrible you are..keeping me around?! You think I can be saved?! You're only making me SUFFER, [y/n], and it's all your fault!"

You were shocked at the things he was saying to you, wondering if the last of his humanity had finally slipped away...and this is all that remained now.

"A-Adam, please stop-"

"PLEASE STOP! PLEASE STOP! PLEASE STOP! PLEASE STOP!" He began to mimic your voice to near-perfection, hearing hysterical laughter coming from him despite his expression not matching it at all.

You could tell from his eyes alone that he wasn't in total control over himself. He wasn't doing this on purpose.

It was those Alternate instincts trying to override him, attempting to submit you to the symptoms of M.A.D.

Begging him to be quiet was no longer working. You had to try something else...something that would catch him off-guard.

And you finally figured it out.

Taking the pillow, you tossed it aside before gently pulling Adam into your arms, once again being careful not to crush any of his fragile bones. Almost immediately his laughter stopped, his whole body seizing up.

Without the jacket you've previously given him, you could feel how extremely skinny he was, his vertebrae almost poking through his flesh. But it didn't stop you from wrapping your arm around his back, petting his hair soothingly with your other hand.

"...what are you doing-g?" He asked, his voice muffled by your shoulder. "Don't touch me! I-I'm...I will....!"

"You'll what?"

"......."

From the way his entire form gradually went slack in your arms, you realized he was (somewhat) back to his old self, and smiled. "See? You're not hurting me now, and you didn't before. I still trust you, Adam."

He didn't do anything for a few long moments, but just when you were about to let him go, he suddenly hugged you back and fully buried his face into your shoulder, sobbing.

"I'm so sorry, I-I didn't mean to...! I'm sorry, I'm sorry..!!"

"It's okay. I know you didn't mean any of it." You consoled, allowing him to pull you closer to him. As much as he tried, he could barely crush you..considering he had little strength left. "It's okay, we're both okay."

He just shook his head, still devastated that he tried giving you M.A.D and couldn't stop himself. "Th-This is why I wanted you to leave me..b-before I say stupid shit like that and hurt you...."

"C'mon, you've said a lot of "stupid shit" over the years. It's gonna take more than that to drive me away." As you rubbed his bare back, you could feel him nuzzling into your shirt more, desperate for warmth that his own body no longer provided him.

"I-It's so cold. I'm scared, [y/n]...I'm scared of myself." He choked. "None of this feels...real."

"I know. I...can't even imagine what's been going through your head tonight. But you're still my friend, and nothing's gonna change that. Not even this, alright?"

After a few moments of silence he nodded, sniffling. "I'm sorry for putting all of this on you. But....if you have to kill me-"

"Adam."

"R-Right, right...I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again.."

"....we'll figure out something else, okay? And I'll be here for you. Just like always."

Although Adam didn't verbally respond to that, he let go of you and laid down beside you, indicating he wanted to at least attempt to sleep. You were surprised that he didn't just return to his own bed, but you weren't going to be a dick and kick him off.

So you gave him most of the sheets and blankets, knowing he needed them far more than you did. He only mumbled a small "thank you" before turning his back to you, now tucked under the blanket.

You got under the covers as well, switching off the light again, but you heard him still crying softly into the pillow and groaning in pain, clearly trying to hide it from you.

It hurts that you couldn't take away his pain.

The one thing you could do, however, was comfort him..now knowing he wasn't going to push you away like he did before. So you gently put your arm around him, closing some of the space between you two while not being too constricting.

And while he didn't stop crying right away, he eventually quieted down and fell asleep with one less worry on his mind.

You hoped it wasn't too weird--just something to reassure him that you're gonna be right here when he awakened.

It did the trick.

You weren't going to leave him.

Not anytime soon.

#clanask #anonymous #tmc x reader #mandela catalogue x reader #adam murray #adam murray x reader #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff #tw body horror #tw suicide mention

[winters-rose-daughterofcain]

Natalie Scarroccio is for the girls who always take the hardest task, who do the hard, unwanted thing uncomplaining and unflinching, for the girls who volunteer for it before it inevitably falls to them anyway.

Natalie is for the girls who are tired of being angry but don't know how to stop, who have raised themselves on it and who fuel themself on indignation and resentment and a violent core that no matter how justified will forever feel like screaming into a void, like wasted energy

Natalie is for the girls who continue being angry because without anger all that is left is the raw bloodied truth, without anger all that is left is the hurt and the exhaustion of a life full of cruelty they never deserved, without anger, without the shied, the symptom, then the cause, the pain, would be entirely too much

Natalie is for the girls who love in spite of themselves, who care and adore and sacrifice for people she knows wouldn't do the same for her, who have a heart bigger then they knows what to do with, bigger then even they understands, who clutch people too them in a way that makes it all to easy to slip through their fingers, no matter how tight they hold

Natalie is for the girls who exist out of spite, who are fully aware of how the word see's them, judges them, disregards them, and who continue to exist anyway, who have no real reason left to stay alive, no real hope left that life will get better, but who stay regardless

Natalie is for the girls who stay alive for love, not some overblown, over sanitised fairytale, but the destroying reality. Who will seek out lovers who will never give them enough, never truly deserve them and stay regardless, who see themselves as something awful and therefor think they deserve nothing more, who see themselves in the dangerous and hurtful and disliked, who think they're one and the same as the people who hurt them

Natalie is for the girls who suffer in silence, who think of their pain, their discomfort, their feelings as an imposition, they were told and taught to feel that way, who will swallow any complaints and blink back tears and keep on moving, step by step, who know long before any wilderness what survival takes

Natalie is for the girls who lash out, who take that burning anger, that bitterness, that resentment from treatment they didn't deserve and swallowed words and feelings that had a right to be said and unleash it at just the wrong moment, who feel cornered, like an animal, like pray, and who disgust themselves by it

Natalie is for the girls that forgive, who fail to hold grudges because a life of abuse shows them their priorities, who let things they shouldn't go and never return to them, who will let go, forgive but never truly forget, who know what it's like to hold guilt like a chain and who will do their best to alleviate it for others

Natalie is for the girls who hate their fathers but just want to hear them say one nice thing, who just want to be held by them and be told their proud, just once

Natalie is for the girls who resent their mothers, who see the mirrors between them and wish on everything they couldn't, who are acutely aware of the tragedy of her life and everything the world and their father has put her through, who are equally as aware of the role she played in the tragedy of theirs

Natalie is for the girls who chase boys who are bad for them, who will look past reminders of the men that haunt them and ignore and blame themselves for any less an consensual outcomes, who cannot imagine themselves as a true, pure victim, who feel guilty even thinking of labelling themselves as such

Natalie is for the girls who live in guilt, who cannot escape it not at night not in the sleep not through any high or wish of death, who feel they might choke on it if they have to exist in their body a second more

Natalie Scarroccio is for the girls that love, and who hate themselves for it.

#natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets #nat #character analysis #tw: abuse #tw: sa mention #I think about her too much #and I will write that character study one day it's coming I swear #she's so me fr

[sinners-in-paradise]

Chapter Two: Victims in Paradise

Masterpost

Chapter written by @camachine

[This chapter contains graphic descriptions that may be disturbing to some readers.]

–––

Seeing as Dero was incapable of moving properly, the group decided on carrying him to a sheltered cave and treating him there. His wounds seemed to be more emotional than physical once he had been pulled down from the tree, but he sobbed and wailed as if dying regardless. Ironic.

"His name is Dero," Dulciana explained. "He's Dark Matter... surely you recognized that, Cele?"

She nodded. "He's not... dangerous... is he?" she fumbled.

"No, not at all. I knew him from my time watching over dearest Pleiades... They were good friends, and from what I know, he was the sweetest thing. A knight, and a very noble one at that. Perhaps not the sharpest knife in the drawer... but he was so full of joy and goodness. It's awful to think of how he could've gotten in this situation."

"A knight. Hmph," Gwen mumbled to herself. "Seems he was stabbed to death..."

"I know it's a delicate thing for you, Guinevere, but it's best if you're as cooperative as possible. We don't want him to feel unwelcome."

"Unwelcome?" she asked reluctantly. "We're welcoming him?"

"If he wishes to accompany us, I don't see why not."

Eventually, they finally stumbled upon a dark, damp crevice along the edges of a large cliff, which was fortunately just large enough for the four of them and a small campfire. While Guinevere tried her hardest to make sparks with two rocks and Celeernyx watched her idly, Dulciana tried her hardest to clean Dero's stab wounds and explain his situation to him.

"It seems you've died, dearest," she told him sweetly. "I'm sure you already knew. It happens to the best of us."

There was no reply. If Dero had something to say, he was too shaken to say it.

"He's unsettled," Celeernyx mustered. "O-Of course he is. He-e's surrounded by a b-bunch of dead wo-omen."

"How'd you die? From the looks of your wounds it was something real nasty," Guinevere asked him casually.

"Gwen!" Dulci snapped at her. "If we're unsettling him now, you're going to make him have a panic attack!"

"Tis... tis alright..." Dero finally mumbled. "Tis alright."

"Huh. So he can say more words." Gwen smiled. "It'd help us plenty if you could a tell us a bit about how you died, dearie, seeing as you and Dulci here seem to know each other a bit. Maybe we can help you by... well, we'll get there. And it might affect how you end up in the end, similar to Cele and her wings."

"End up in the end? Wings?" he asked her nervously.

"I don't want to think about it too hard or explain it either. Again, we'll get to it when we get it. I... eh... I think we have time. Go on."

"Oh! Uhm... I..." He paused, hesitant to bring up the fatal incident. Simply thinking of the moment, of his raspy, tired breath, of the pooling blood, of her satisfied gaze... it was too much.

"I wast fatally wounded. In combat, I mean," he said. "I art a knight. And I... I wast stabbed to death by an enemy. By a horrible beast. That's all." It's not a lie per se, he figured.

Though Dulciana suspected he might be twisting the truth ever so slightly, none of her friends doubted him, and as such she decided to keep her mouth shut. Best to avoid conflicts, she thought.

"Thank you," she said softly. "That must've been a rough memory for you. I appreciate your openness." She cleared her throat. "How about we introduce ourselves to you, as an icebreaker? That way you can get to know us and how we died."

"O-Oh! An introduction! Of course," Dero said quietly.

"You already know me... Miss Dulciana, yes, Dero?" she told him. "I was engaged to my dearest Pleiades, remember? But I died of health complications when I fell ill. At the very least I passed on with my true love by my side." She sighed dreamily. "Your turn, Celeernyx."

"O-Oh! My turn! Right!" she said. "Oh... m-my name is Celeernyx. I was a Hero of Yore. Right. I helped seal away... V-Void Termina. And... and... my crown... you see m-my crown, right? It.. it t-took my mind. And it turned i-into something horrible... something really horrible. I... I was a queen. I loved my pe-eople, I think. And I... I failed them. I-I... the crown... I destroyed everything. And then I saw light... I saw mysel-lf and what I had done. Wha-at the crown had done. I felt myself growing w-weaker and weaker and then I sh-shat-tered."

"Why... t-that's awful, m'lady! I mean... My queen!" Dero fumbled. "As a knight, I can only imagine how awful it must be to fail that which I serve... Thou hast mine sincerest condolences."

Even now, he's so loyal and over-the-top, Dulci thought. It was endearing, in a way, and it was relieving to hear that, though upset, he wasn't unhealthily panicking about what he was hearing. It seemed as if he had come to a certain degree of understanding about his current state and the people surrounding him.

"Now you, Gwen," she said. "Tell Dero about yourself."

"Hmph. Right. Well, my name is Guinevere King. Or... not Guinevere King. I'm not sure if I'm still comfortable with the surname. I was transformed into a monster type as a young child by an entity commonly known as 'Nightmare'. You've heard of it?"

Dero nodded. "I wouldn't have guessed thou were a monster if thee hadn't told me, though. Thou... ehm... Thou art very beautiful."

She blushed at the comment, her face going slightly red beneath her fur. "Well, you wouldn't be the only one to think that. A-About not being so recognizable as a monster, I mean," she said nervously. "I've always been a bit odd, but when I escaped Nightmare and tried to live a normal life, I went unnoticed as what I was by my peers. I... I fell in love, like a normal girl. And I got married and had myself a son and I got a job as a soldier knight and I was happy. And then..." She trailed off, carefully picking out her next words. "My partner found out I was a monster. We were in bed when he took his sword and slashed at me... completely unprompted, I mean. I tried to... defend myself with my spear. For a few minutes, we scuffled, until he finally caught me with the blade and twisted it inside. I screamed and begged and eventually, he released it in a flurry of blood. And you know, it was scary, right? I could see the edges of some organs beginning to peek out, and still my body wasn't giving in. I think he was scared too, maybe, because the next thing he did was to hack at me again and again and again, until I could barely breathe and I had collapsed into his arms. It's so strange, because I wasn't worrying about what was going to happen to me... I was worrying about my son. I don't know. I think... I think my husband thought I was dead, because I had stopped screaming and I was covered in our blood and guts and my eyes had started glossing over, and I wish I had been, because then he took my body and started wrapping it up in our bedspread." She paused to take a deep breath. "I think... I think he might've done something else to me, but I can't remember, because I was barely lucid. And once the bedspread had covered my mouth, I really couldn't get any air into my system at all, so I pretended I was falling asleep and blacked out to the smell of my rotting insides. The end."

Dero stared at her wide-eyed, his eyes tearing up. Eventually, a sob escaped his throat.

"Gwen! Now look at what you've gone and done!" Dulci snapped at her.

"What?! You told us to tell him how we died!" she said very matter-of-factly.

"You didn't have to be so graphic about it!"

"Art exists to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comforted," she shrugged.

"You are not art."

"My... My husband's cheesy poems would care to disagree."

"He stabbed you to death," Cele pointed out.

"I can't believe he would do that!" Dero sobbed. "Why would... why would he hurt thee like that?! J-Just because of thine monstrous blood?! THINE OWN LOVER!?!”

"Now, now. It's all in the past," Dulciana told him comfortingly. "That one really got to you, hm? Guinevere's not usually like this, I can assure you..."

"That's awful! That's so awful!" he wailed.

"Dulci's right. Don't fret," Gwen sighed, growing melancholic herself. "It hurts me too, but there's not much I can do for now. It's best to let it go, forgive and forget... even if it's really, truly hard. I... I'm sorry if I made you 'sad'. I know you were stabbed to death too. Maybe I was too harsh."

"I... I art sorry too," he said. "I art sorry. Tis horrible. I wish I could make it up to thou, make it up to all of thee."

"Dero, you don't have to–"

"But... but there art nothing we can do. We're dead," he sighed. "We're... We're dead!"

"It is i-inconvenient," Cele sighed. "But... We're plotting to return to liv-ving world, soon!"

"Cele! Too early!" Gwen told her.

"Well... I suppose there's no use in hiding it now," Dulciana said. "Dero, I am uncertain of how long you've been in Hades. I don't think you've heard of much of this but... there are rumors." She lowered her voice. "Of course, these rumors have existed for... a very long time. But local legend states that there is a way for dead souls to return to living world, if temporarily. I suspect it has something to do with the current ruler of Hades, which can drift between worlds... but of course, we'd have to be unfathomably powerful to channel this... we'd have to gather power, yes?" She rubbed her temples anxiously. "It's all very unclear at the moment, but I know there ought to be a way for me to see my dear Ades again... and we have two powerful knights and a Hero of Yore on our side! Surely it cannot be impossible."

His eyes widened. "We... We can attempt closure? We can go back?"

"Maybe," he heard a rough, strained voice say behind him. "But I wouldn't try it if I wanted to maintain my sanity."

He swerved around to get a look at whoever had interrupted the conversation, making a quick, burning pain shoot through his body. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't... that.

A slim, goopy figure had emerged from what he assumed to be a puddle of paint on the ground. Its abnormal pinkish silhouette vaguely resembled that of a woman with long, drooping hair, but it was so disfigured that it could barely be recognized as such. This was made even more unsettling by its multiple glowing yellow eyes and its slim, golden mouth, which appeared like a slash across the middle of its body. Fortunately, this was mostly covered by a thick purple scarf wrapped just below the mouth slit and a large, floppy hat placed upon its head.

"You couldn't even hear me appear behind you, and you expect to best death itself?" It let out a shrill screech, which he assumed was a laugh. "You have so much to learn about this god-forsaken place. You're fresh meat, aren't you?"

"Who do you think you are to barge in on us?" Gwen asked her, lifting her spear from the ground.

"...An overlord!" it cackled. "Who else?"

Witch's laugh, Dero thought. He doubted whoever this person was was up to any good.

But more importantly... What the hell... no... What in hades was an "overlord" supposed to be?

#ahem... how do i meet the strangest men? they always seem to find meee #remember that time i kissed a guy who #*gunshots* #the uxoricide research is paying off at last #kirby #sinners in paradise #dero #sir gwynn #celeernyx #miss dulciana #kirby oc #drawcia

[ihaveacorgi]

Zuko used to love sitting on the roof as a child. It was a way to get away from the servants and nannies, the tutors and instructors, and most of all, his father. It was his happy place, his escape, the one place in the palace where he could just… be. It was just a roof, maybe nicer than most others, but it served the same function in the end. It was just a roof, but it meant so much to Zuko. And he knew Sokka wouldn’t understand that, that he had no idea why Zuko was so nervous to bring him out here. It was just a roof, afterall.

Sokka seemed to love it too, from the awed way he looked up at the stars and out over Caldera. “This is beautiful, Zuko,” he breathed, turning his brilliant smile towards Zuko. “I bet this is how Yue sees the world. It’s incredible. She would’ve loved this,” he continues, gazing sadly up at the moon. And Zuko knew it didn’t mean anything, but he couldn’t help the spike of jealousy that flared in his chest, regardless.

Zuko stamped it down and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, though he had never met Yue and knew nothing about her. It was what was expected, so he said it.

“Thank you for showing me,” Sokka said, as he leaned over to kiss Zuko. They existed like that, in stolen, hidden moments, cloaked in shadows and darkness, unable to be open like Katara and Aang.

“Sokka, I… I wanted to tell you something.” Zuko swallowed heavily. That was the whole reason for showing Sokka this place. He wanted somewhere that he felt… safe, for this. “I… um, I wanted to tell you how I got the scar.”

“Oh,” he replied quietly, his voice lacking any hint of joking or amusement in the way it so rarely did. And Zuko was sure Sokka had probably guessed. He was smarter than the entire Fire Nation court combined, and Zuko’s father hadn’t exactly hidden his hatred of his son well, nor had Zuko been able to hide his fear of his father.

“I… I’m sure you’ve guessed, what happened. O- or someone told you, li- like Uncle Iroh, or Aang might know, but I… I wanted you t- to hear it from, you know, me,” Zuko began, haltingly, stuttering and tripping over a few words as he tried to find the right ones to say. He’d never really been good at words and sharing his unfiltered thoughts rarely ended well, but he was going to try his Agni-damned hardest, because Sokka deserved to know. He deserved to know it how it was, not some twisted-up version, told by one of the witnesses and warped by hatred or sympathy. No, Sokka should know the truth, and Zuko knew there were only two people in the world who would tell it to him. And there was no chance Aang or Zuko would let Sokka anywhere near Ozai, bending or no.

“Ok,” Sokka replied, pressing a kiss to Zuko’s temple. “You can tell me, Zuko.”

“It… well, I guess it started because I asked Uncle to let me into a war council. Or… maybe, maybe it was before that. I, uh, I was always a disappointment. My father, uh, Ozai, he used to say that Azula was born lucky, but that I was, uh, lucky to be born. And, well, you know Azula. She was a prodigy, you know? She was always better at fire bending than me, and, well, Ozai always favored her. But I tried, Sokka. I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to slack off, or fail on purpose, or make mistakes. I did my best to make him proud, but… he just… didn’t love me. Or… maybe he never loved anyone. I don’t… I don’t know. But, uh, anyway, when I was around thirteen, I asked Uncle to let me join a war council. He told me to be quiet, not to say anything. And I, I should’ve listened, Sokka. Uncle, he’s usually right, you know? But, well, I– I didn’t listen. There was this general, uh… I don’t remember who, actually. Uncle probably knows. Anyway, he wanted to sacrifice a division of new recruits, the 49th – who were probably drafted, come to think of it. But they were young, and he wanted to send them up against part of the Earth Kingdom army as a distraction and come around the back for a completely insignificant piece of land. It was… it was dishonorable. Barbaric. We were… I was told we were better, back then. That we wouldn’t… that we weren’t like that. So, I spoke out. I thought he would be proud,” Zuko spat the word. “I thought that would make him proud, Sokka. That I would be showing him I was capable of leading, of thinking about our people the way a good Fire Lord is supposed to, but, uh, that’s not what happened. The general challenged me to an Agni Kai, a fire bending duel over honor, because, by speaking against his plan, I had insulted him.”

Sokka took one of Zuko’s hands, and he realized he was shaking. “You didn’t fight the general, did you?”

Zuko shook his head. “It… it was my father’s– it was Ozai’s war room, and I had disrespected it… disrespected him. I… I didn’t fight him, Sokka. I couldn’t fight him, and I begged. I knelt and I begged, like a coward, and he burnt me. It was his right, I forfeited, he won. His words to me were ‘you will learn respect. Suffering will be your teacher,’ and, uh, and then he banished me. He told me that I… that I could come back if I captured the Avatar. For, uh, for context, your sister didn’t get Aang out of that iceberg for another, uh, three years, give or take. He expected me… no, he hoped that I would die, first from the burn, then again in exile, but I…” Zuko laughed bitterly. “I thought he wanted me back. That he’d offered me a way home because… because deep down, that’s what he wanted. That I could… that I could finally make him proud.”

“That… that wasn’t your fault, Zuko,” Sokka replied, wiping a stray tear that Zuko hadn’t noticed.

Zuko sighed, wearily. “I know, Sokka. I was a child. A stupid one, but a child. I just, I wanted you to know.”

“Why didn’t you tell us when you tried to join Aang during the war? He would’ve understood. He’s a very forgiving person.” Sokka asked, but he looked like he knew the answer.

“I didn’t want your pity. I wanted– no, I needed to know that I could… that I could do better than Ozai. I still, sometimes I think I’ll become like him. I get so angry, sometimes, and I… I wonder if it’s just in my blood. I… I asked Aang to kill me, if I’m ever like him. I made him promise. If– if he ever tries, let him, Sokka.” Zuko’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you, so much, Sokka, but you can’t… you can’t let me turn into a monster.”

Sokka just pulls him closer and promises him that, if necessary, he would kill Zuko himself. It’s not what lovers are supposed to say, in these situations. Zuko knows that they’re supposed to tell each other that they’d never become that, that they’d always protect each other. But this, this promise is far more comforting, because if Zuko has to die by someone’s hand, he’d rather it be Sokka’s.

And, if Sokka spends that night crying for the childhood that Zuko lost, swearing to himself that he’ll never, never do anything to hurt the beautiful boy next to him, the broken, angry, but, above all, kind boy sharing his bed. That, no matter what Zuko did, he would never raise so much as a pinky finger against him, because there was nothing Zuko could do to end up anything like his father – even back when he was screaming about honor and trying, so hard, to be just like him – then that was between him and Yue, and no one else.

#my post #zukka #zuko #sokka #avatar the last airbender #atla #sokka x zuko #I wrote this for my bf and figured id share

[citrustan]

STMF

I absolutely love this story!! It's putting me through the most. I don't like yoongi I'm so sorry. I just think he's incredibly selfish.

Like he keeps feeding into OC's fantasies by buying her flowers and planning her birthday presents and always taking care of her when she's sick and not letting everyone help. It's so domestic no wonder OC thinks they are endgame. But this whole time he was out getting into SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS with OTHER PEOPLE. I know OC said she assumed he was dating but it's one thing to think that and another thing to know that it's true. And it's not just casual relationships but SERIOUS ones. It somehow feels like yoongi managed to compromise on having this domestic relationship with OC without marriage and getting all the physical aspects from the other relationships. Like he's really out here getting the best of both worlds and not telling OC any of it. And why? Even OC said that it's obvious to everyone that she has feelings for yoongi so wouldn't it also be obvious to yoongi himself and telling her that he's in other serious relationships would help her get out of this state of limbo she was in and actually put in some boundaries but he never ever told her.

And her friends are also awful for never telling her the truth. Regardless of whether she wanted to know or not real friends would have told her the truth even if it was hard to hear because she needed to grow. They just let yoongi run about without ever telling OC. Even if the relationships never stuck. The minute that first serious relationship happened Tae should have said something. Tae knew about the other girls and probably knew about the birthday parties yoongi throws for OC and the flowers and etc. He must have seen how confusing this was for her. Whether he approves yoongi's relationship or not he should have said something. Not calling yoongi out is just as bad as saying his behaviour was okay when it wasn't.

Sorry for the rambling I just have strong feelings. But I love the story you've brought us and your writing is brilliant. I hope you continue to stay motivated and have a great day❤️

omg thank u so much (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠)

don't worry, that's a very popular opinion lmao yoongi rly IS getting the best of both worlds ur right

ANd yes omg yeah if their friends tried to interfere, it certainly didn't work. but just watching them ruin themselves is so not it either 😶

#anon #fic: slipping through my fingers

[miraculousficsarchive]

Blueberry Sugar

Chapter 1: Not Exactly a First Meeting

🫐

Marinette busted her ass all day every day and no one could deny that. Having it be your parents diner and all, you'd think that would mean you could slack off sometimes. Marinette? No way. She put 100% of herself into this job regardless of what was thrown at her. She always said, "Being a waitress isn’t for the faint of heart". Between the teenagers that try not to pay, couples who fight, and old people who think they're entitled to free food because she got their order wrong -which she totally didn't do but whatever- it was hard to keep a smile on all day. Mari managed. And truth be told, the only thing that kept her going was her school. Every paycheck she got, most of it went towards her tuition. After all, the best fashion school in Paris wasn't cheap. Sure, balancing classes and shifts at the diner and superhero work is a pain in the ass. But if she could just break into the industry, this would all be worth it. All the disaster tables she had to clean, every child throwing food on the floor, and all the awkward old men hitting on her would all pay off. Don't get her wrong, being Ladybug is a dream come true and all, but it doesn't pay the bills.

So in the meantime, her home is DC's diner.

Her long hair was pulled into a large bun on top of her head, bright red ribbon keeping it in place. She smiled at the young woman in front of her as she paid her bill and left the diner. The second the door closed she dropped her smile and her head, leaning across the counter.

"Alyaaaaaa, I'm dead."

Her friend laughed from across the room.

"You and me both. Look at this mess. What's with kids throwing food everywhere? I think I stepped in macaroni."

Marinette perked up and examined the bottom of her own shoes.

"Gross."

After Alya was done cleaning the floor and Marinette had finished wiping countertops and tables, Alya took off her apron and said goodbye to her friend. Mari always stayed late to close up, partially because she's the only one that her parents trust to do it, and partially because she liked the quiet after a long day of noise.

As she said goodbye to the cooks and started counting the register, she heard the chime of the front door opening. Not looking up from the money, she called to whoever walked in.

"Sorry but our cooks just left. We're closing up."

"Awe man, I heard you guys have the best pie here. I was aching to get my claws on some."

Marinette's eyes whipped up to see big shoulders, blonde hair and cat ears.

"O-oh! Chat Noir!"

She quickly stuffed the money back in the register to count later. Fixing her uniform and hair, she motioned for him to sit at the counter. What was he doing here? Did he find her out? She thought he'd gave that up years ago. They haven't talked about secret identities in forever. Did he follow her here? He's supposed to be on patrol right now.

"We still have some left. What kind would you like?"

His eyes grew as he sat on the stool in front of the pie shelf.

"Blueberry, of course. Gotta start with the classics."

He flashed her his signature smile and she had to force her eyes away before they rolled into the back of her head. She grabbed him a slice and set it in front of him.

"Hope you like it."

He took a bite and looked her in the eyes.

"This is the most delicious thing I've ever eaten."

As much as she would try to deny it, her face started to show a hint of pink. She smiled and suddenly found interest in the strings hanging from her apron.

"Thank you. They're made in house every morning. The blueberry is my favorite to make."

He planted both hands on the counter and leaned forward.

"You made this?!"

She laughed and nodded, watching him shovel a big bite into his mouth.

"I'm glad you like it."

"Oh, now I've gotta try them all. How late can you stay open?"

Marinette put a hand on her hip and pointed at the menu on the wall above her. He followed her finger to see a list of prices for the wall of pies behind her.

"Heroes only get one free slice a day. You buying?

He gave a nervous laugh and his ears bent down.

"Oh. I forgot my wallet at home."

She crossed her arms and smiled.

"Sorry, Mr Noir. Our pies get donated to charity every night, and as far as I can tell, you're not needy." She gently poked his chest as she spoke, a little surprised with how firm it was. Was he flexing?

"You donate your pies? That's really nice."

She turned back to counting the money in the cash register to avoid his gaze.

"Yeah. We always have leftovers and it's not right to throw them away. We take them to the nearby community center and they're given to people that are struggling."

He looked at her as she closed the register and then scribbled on a piece of paper. She ripped it off and slid it over to him.

He picked it up to see an address.

"Feel free to swing by sometime. I'm sure they'd love to meet the famous Chat Noir."

He smiled and tucked the paper into his bell.

"I just might take you up on that, Miss-" he leaned in to read her name tag.

"Marinette."

Her heart skipped a beat when her civilian name fell out of his mouth. This was weird. Did she like hearing that? Surely not. He was annoying. A good partner? Yes. But still annoying. Why did she invite him to the community center? They shouldn't have contact as civilians. It's dangerou-

"Are you here every day?"

She realized she'd been standing there silent and nervously flashed him a smile.

"Uh, yeah. Just about."

"Well, it looks like I just found my new favorite pie place."

He walked to the door and waved as he extended his staff. He placed it on the ground and put one foot on the side of it.

"Goodnight Marinette!"

Fully extending it, he launched himself into the night sky.

Mari quickly ran over to the door and locked it, leaning her back on the door as if it would prevent him from returning.

"What was that!?"

🫐

Index | Next

#my fics #blueberry sugar #diner au #miraculous ladybug #marichat #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir

[twilightmalachite]

Raison d’être - The Nameless Girl 9

Author: Akira

Characters: Mika

Translator: Mika Enstars

"That’s what my role is. No, that’s my happiness."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Starry Sky

Late at night that very day. Deep in a forest in the outskirts of Paris…

*digging noises*

Mika: ……

Haa~… haa~…

(Gotta hurry, hurry…)

(I gotta hurry an’ check…)

Raffaello: “Well, this truly is unexpected.”

“And here I was thinking you were a jumpy, timid, and withdrawn kid. Yet here you are being so brazen.”

“To think you would lie to his beloved and admired Shu-kun, take me and hide me from his gaze, and then pretend to return to Japan…”

“All so you can dirty your hands to find out the “truth” behind the diary.”

“Très bien, you’ve got some guts.”

Mika: Shut up. Hearin’ yer voice gets me irritated.

Raffaello: “No, at least allow me to speak. As you can see, I’m just an immobile doll who cannot do anything else—”

“And you, you are digging up the grave of my dear mother.”

Mika: ……

Raffaello: ‘You have the right goal, regardless of the means.”

“It’s truthfully a necessary step in order to know the “truth”.”

“You deny the facts I have told you, one after another.”

“It seems you guys have come to the conclusion that the diary is just fiction.”

“But the events depicted in that book are very much faithful to reality, apart from the existence of the immortal girl of “MADEMOISELLE”.”

“Is that why you are worried? You don’t know how much of it is a lie?”

“Just how much of what I said was just a lie, a joke, or a cop-out?”

“And to confirm that, you are doing what you are doing now—”

“You have no choice but to uncover the grave of “MADEMOISELLE”, the nameless dollmaker, and my mother with whom Shu-kun’s beloved and admired grandfather had an affair with.”

“Fortunately, the location of the grave could be deduced through the diary entries.”

“It is insisted, again and again…”

“Through the diary entries, that “MADEMOISELLE” wishes for her body to be buried within this forest if she dies—”

“This is where she was born and raised, where all her ancestors have been buried in coffins for generations.”

“I suppose that is also an outdated way of thinking in today’s world, however. But it was a matter of course for the people of back then to wish to rest within the same grave as their ancestors following death.”

“As such, the coffin in which her perished body lay surely should be buried here.”

“You estimated such, determined the forest’s location through the diary entries, and came out here late at night, shovel in hand.”

“So you could dig up her grave.”

Mika: Nnah~… It don’t really matter, but those from the Kanto region usually call these spades rather than shovels. Kansai and Kanto each call it somethin’ different, ain’t that interestin’?

I’ve learned it well since Oshi-san’s corrected me many times over it.

Raffaello: “Fufu. Shu-kun is quite fussy, just like that grandfather of his he adores.”

Mika: Mhm. Oshi-san’s a fussy perfectionist who doesn’t tolerate anythin’ that doesn’t suit his tastes, no matter how small.

He’s the type of person to start sewin’ clothes from scratch if he goes out and didn’t think the color of his clothes suited the weather.

So I’m sure if the Grandfather he loves so much really was unfaithful, as ya claim him to be…

If he really was such an awful, irredeemable person…

It’d definitely be devastatin’ to him. He might not even be able to hold a paintbrush or sewin’ needle ever again!

Just like what you said happened to that delicate artist, “MADEMOISELLE”…

He might not be able t’move anymore, like a marionette with its strings cut.

Raffaello: “……”

Mika: And so, I’ll be crushin’ that “possibility”.

Mika: …Ya know~, Oshi-san called me his partner.

A partner whom he wants to create his work with, as an artist equal to him.

I still can’t believe it myself, but… it really did make me happy.

I felt like I went t’heaven.

So, if any rock gets in my partner’s way, I’ll kick ‘em all away.

So that Oshi-san won’t fall down an’ get hurt.

So that he can forever proudly walk he wants with his chest out, fer all eternity.

Even if it means crawlin’ on the ground gettin’ covered in mud, I’ll pick up anythin’ that gets in his way or is a danger t’him.

That’s what my role is. No, that’s my happiness.

Raffaello: “You’re quite distorted, too.”

Mika: Oshi-san’s upright beauty stands out more if there’s someone distorted by his side.

…But, yer mistaken, Raffaello-san.

I’m not here to find out the “truth”.

It doesn’t matter to me if the diary that’s with “MADEMOISELLE”-san’s body exists or not.

Whatever the outcome, I’ll dig it up, dispose of it, then proudly return back to Oshi-san—

And I’ll tell him, “there was nothin’ there.”

“Everythin’ that Raffaello-san was sayin’ really was all just a lie.”

“He really was nothin’ but a liar, a fraud.”

Mika: Right? An’ then, ehehe, Oshi-san will be able t’relax, right?

Raffaello: “…In case you didn’t know, it’s a crime in this country too to dig up a grave. Are you truly going to become a criminal for something so trivial?”

Mika: Well, I don’t think it’s trivial.

Fer me, it’s somethin’ without a doubt worth riskin’ my life over.

Raffaello: “……”

Mika: Ah, oh right, but before that—

I can’t have ya talkin’ forever, it only upsets Oshi-san—

Though it’s a pity, I don’t wanna hurt yer beautiful doll…

You too, can go ahead and get crushed and disappear here too.

♪~♪~♪

[ ☆ ]

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#raison d’être #raison d'etre #mika kagehira #event #translation

[justices-blade]

“ Edward! ”  This year, Pelleas approaches the swordsman in person rather than hiding behind a letter.  “ It's difficult to believe it's already been a year since you've arrived here. You look stronger already, so you'll find me a little jealous. ”

He laughs it off even if it might be a little bit true. But regardless, there's still something else to be done! Without any smooth transition, Pelleas holds out a wrapped gift for the brunet.  “ Here, from me to you for the Winter Festival. I hope you don't mind... ”

It's a fairly small box, and once unwrapped, it reveals a very small pouch (?) inside bearing a camouflage pattern. But in actuality...

“ If you open it inside-out, it unravels to become a normal-size lightweight blanket. I saw it in the market and thought of you. ”  It is at this point the dark sage looks a bit guilty, glancing away as his head hangs a little low.  “ Truth be told, when I was King, I happened to overhear that you really like sleeping... but I also couldn't help but see you always out and about. Just like Micaiah, you'd leave the castle walls often, didn't you? ”

Days of always watching the Dawn Brigade from afar, only learning these kinds of details from word of mouth or what little observations he could afford to make...

“ So I was thinking something that you could carry around with you easily without taking too much space, something that didn't limit where you went but still allowed you to do this kind of thing... It made perfect sense to me, but I guess from someone who doesn't talk to you much, this might be a little creepy, isn't it? Sorry. But I hope it's at least useful even if it might be off-putting. ”

Being able to see people up close is a two-way-street by necessity — Both of them need to stay in orbit of one another, submitting to mutual gravity. For as little as Pelleas could speak to him in person as they marched, Edward likewise couldn't really approach if he was held at arm's length or longer, even if he wanted to. Of course, he could be insistent about it, but when a man's wanted, needed as a king, who's a common Nevassan boy to butt into that? As oblivious as he was, he at least had enough tact to know his place, and to know when he's being — Not avoided, that's not quite right. Just kept away from. So the distance stayed, chain of command drawn tighter than that of association or familiarity.

'Know his place' — Hah, well, did he ever really? Does he really need to, now? Because he knows he doesn't want to anymore. The sentiment's been there a while — Since he saw that lost prince and saw bits and pieces that reminded him of himself, stamped out but still shining like embers, since he received Caladbolg, but not from Pelleas' own hands, not like how a knight would receive honor from his king, since he got that welcoming picnic, that illusion of power, that dance and that talk, that departing gift.

In defiance of that past, he's been throwing that door open, reaching out. So he's more than delighted that Pelleas is here, in the flesh, reaching back. He turns towards the other with a jingle of the bell on his hat, and his entire face lights up at the sight of the other — He scratches his cheek bashfully with an 'aw, shucks' at the opening compliment, before readily accepting his gift with open curiosity...

Delight comes back in full force once Pelleas explains the gift, so much that he starts unpacking it on the spot; To lift the pouch out of the box and feel the weight and feel of it in his hand, to stick his fingers through the drawstring to gauge how warm and comfy it'll be. The verdict comes back as an oh yes, absolutely, and without thinking, Edward pulls Pelleas into a hug.

Mmmaybe it's for the best he never did receive Caladbolg in person, actually.

"It's perfect! Thank you so much!" Edward exclaims, before remembering himself and pulling away, though his hands still hover wildly over the other's shoulders, still electrified with joy. As embarrassing as it is for his reputation to be mixed up with his love for naps of all things, it's part of it for good reason, and really means that the gift really is perfect —

"Heck, I'm so glad you thought of me," He clutches the blanket-pouch again, squeezing it gently and beaming up at the mage. "You're really thoughtful, you know that? Goddess, this really is..."

He pauses, for a moment, suddenly determined, excited all over again, starting to rifle in his own bag. "Wait! It's not as perfect as this bad boy right here, but —!!"

And he pulls out a little knit satchel with a scented wooden bookmark stuck into it, places it into Pelleas' hands insistently, clasping his own around the others to really impress the gifting on him. "Here! For you, from me! Stuff I picked up after thinking of you. I don't know how fitting it is, but lemme know if there's anything you like next time, okay?"

"I don't mind you talking to me more at all, promise!"

#ridiculously long but i LOVED this ask so much i kind of. um. ran away with it #;answered #pirrhyc #;s. severed strings; a puppet freed | pelleas #thinking about how edwards (and sothes) childhood experiences are technically closest to pelleas' bar the spirit charmer thing always #think it would be hilarious if this scares pelleas right back into his shell. eds a lot

[keithisbae1]

Modern Sasuke X Shippuden Sakura - Part 2

Sakura learns to adjust to this new life but she keeps getting excited over the smallest of things. She’s in awe at all the cars and trains and Sasuke would either have to kick her lightly for her overreaction or in some instances like when their traveling by train and Sasuke uses the ticket to go through the gates, Sakura is still standing there in awe at how this technology works. So, he has to go back through to drag her with him because otherwise, they’ll never get anywhere. 

It’s not her fault that they have such advanced technology, she doesn’t even know how to make posts for social media and unfortunately, the Sakura in this world would post a lot. So Sasuke has to help or be the one in charge of her social media accounts to make them look less suspicious to their friends. During all this, he accidentally discovers his Sakura’s alt-Twitter account where she would either rant about her bad day, what she's been doing or about him. More specifically about her feelings for him. 

Things like how she struggled to be so close to him now when her feelings never changed. How nice it was that she felt confident enough to call him a friend but that her remaining feelings would ruin it.

It was true they had gotten closer over the years, Sasuke was the only one who knew of her nightmares that still plagued her when the three of them were ambushed by the group from Sound. How vivid they were and that's when he found her underneath the cherry blossom tree. How she felt content and peaceful. And it was no secret how much she liked him over the years, even if her fawning over him had died down. He wouldn't have imagined that she was feeling like this and it felt wrong to scroll further and pry into what was essentially her diary, but he needed to know. Then when he looked at the other Sakura, who no doubt had been through a lot worse than any of them here could imagine. Sasuke found himself missing her. ‘She’s right here.’ He tried to tell himself but that wasn’t the truth. “I need to go.” He told her leaving Sakura by the cherry blossom tree. She looked sad but let him be, knowing there was no point in talking to him.

Sakura wasn’t any different. She misses her friends, her family, she knows Naruto needs her to get their Sasuke back. Wondering if she would get something like this with her Sasuke, but then when he has his moments like this of leaving her without warning. Without saying anything as to why… again. She gets flashbacks from the night when he left the village… and she hates it. No matter where she is, Sasuke always leaves. Why her? What did she do? Maybe it was best to be the first one to go? 

It’s not like this place was her home, that they were her real family or friends. And spending time with them takes time out of her day to get back home. 

~~~

She goes to school the next day, like she usually does except she left without Sasuke asking ‘her parents’ to tell him she’ll meet him there. This had never happened so when Mebuki tried to ask if they had a fight Sakura laughed it off and just mentioned she needed to get to school early. Her parents didn’t pry further.

~~~ “You could have waited for me.” Sakura wouldn't have imagined he'd be able to get here so quickly. She hadn't even gone through the school gates. He was panting too, did he really run all this way to catch up with her. 

Regardless Sakura had made up her mind. “I think it’s best if you don’t get involved.” This was not what Sasuke had imagined. He had an inkling something was bothering her, that she was angry but where did this come from? 

“I appreciate your help and everything you’ve done for me so far but… this isn’t my home. I can’t keep pretending to be her. I need more time to look for clues, something anything. To go back home.” “I can help, it’s better to have two heads than one-” 

“NO! I mean, I need to do this by myself. You need to focus on your own life, I’ll figure out how to get back to mine.” Leave him before he leaves you. She brushed past him before he could respond back, leaving him by the school gates. What sweet irony. 

The image of his confused and hurt face made her falter but she didn't look back. Don't look back, or you'll only cave in. She’ll put distance between herself and Sasuke, then her friends and stop going to school thus giving her time to start digging for clues. 

~~~

In class Sasuke couldn’t stop looking at her, she wasn’t even paying attention to what Kakashi was saying and yet still was able to answer any questions he threw at her with ease. Her eyes were either focused on the window, the notebook, their teacher or Ino when she was happily gossiping but never at him. Something ached in his chest, a feeling he had never felt before. 

Was this what it would have been like with his own Sakura? If it became too much. Did she plan to put distance between them and never look his way? Why did it bother him so much? He unknowingly snapped the pencil in his hand.

~~~

Sakura mindlessly doodled on the notebook. A habit she picked up on thanks to Sai. Trying to remember what 'he' looked like when she last saw him. Where is he now? Has Naruto found him yet? Would they ever see him again?

#sasusaku #sasuke uchiha x sakura haruno #sasusaku drabble #my fanfiction #modern sasuke X shippuden sakura AU #sasusaku fanfic #ssfanfic #sasusakufanfiction

[literaphobe]

I see that many here believe that Gabriel was selfish and wicked even when making a wish, but Astruc on Twitter reposted an analysis that actually says his final wish was a sincere intention to fix everything and make Adrien happy. There was nothing sinister except for Venum, and it seems he just thought she would refuse to give him the Miraculouses. He even mentioned several times in the show that Adrien would understand him if he told him what he was doing and assumed Adrien would do the same in his place, only to later tell Marinette that he didn't talk about the villain he was, as if implying he realized Adrien might hate him for it.

Finale analysis, which was reposted by him: https://twitter.com/MLBFrances/status/1677393499426004993

i don’t think gabriel was Overtly trying to be mean or cruel or evil. not in making the wish, for the most part not even in his intentions for making the wish. in his mind, he just wanted his wife back. he thought it was cruel and unfair that she had to be sacrificed for their child to exist. those are valid reasons to want what he did. but he’s also very much an ends justify the means kind of person. and the truth is, whether you think you are doing it all for the good of the world, the benefit of others, or the happiness of your loved ones, when the means are very cruel and painful, they never Ever justify the ends

that’s why adrichat yells and screams and cries in 5x24. that’s why he tells him he fucking sucks and is a shit father (however he said it). even if gabe explained it to adrien, when coupled with what ladybug’s told him, how he himself has learned that making a wish is Dangerous, he would ultimately realize trying to wish his mom back is wrong. at the end of the episode, when marinette shows gabe that video, he realizes that even SHE doesn’t want to come back. he makes the wish to bring natalie back so that someone is left to raise adrien. in his eyes, that’s the best thing he could do in this situation. a final ditch attempt to somewhat right his wrongs. but that doesn’t mean making a wish isn’t Still Dangerous and the characters in the world might start facing its consequences (the lies, lila and the electricity scene at the end)

and so yeah. gabe clearly doesn’t want adrien to remember him as an evil villain. but lies can only get you so far. the truth of how his dad treated him will never go away. and that’s the thing about villains that don’t deserve to be redeemed. there are people in our life that don’t deserve that either, but the odd thing about love is that we try and redeem them anyway. we want to be wrong about them anyway. we wish for them to be better than we thought we were. and that’s why i can say gabriel is awful and abusive and shitty but also adrien is going to miss him and mourn him and hate that he’s gone and want to think his father was better than how he treated him

so yeah. gabriel is a long list of bad things that you just can’t come back from at this point. not because he used venom on marinette when she let her guard down and trusted him. not because he made the wish. but it all adds up. and whether he thinks he’s doing the right thing or not, deciding to sacrifice himself deus ex machina style instead of facing real life consequences—sucks. him asking a girl to lie to his son and the world and keep his ugly secrets. sucks!!! regardless of intention

so yeah… gabe can have the right intentions and want to make everything right and decide that he shouldn’t force his desires on the people he loves at the end… it doesn’t mean he’s a good guy now lol. also doesn’t make it bad writing. unless they fuck it up majorly next season. but im really just here for the ride

tl;dr i don’t really know what ur trying to drive home here so im just giving my thoughts in general about gabriel + how good intentions don’t mean good person? lol i hope this makes sense. i think that redeeming gabriel doesn’t play into whether a piece of media is good. not every villain needs to be redeemed etc etc

#ask #mlbposting #idk whether ur tryna shit on fans or shit on thomas or just sharing info #im a little sleepy rn…. love u anon

[dae-rise]

1st anon you answered here again - Thank you for the article links, I'll deffo check them out. Apologies as well for the assumption that you might not have considered poverty/indigenous ppl etc, as it's not something you can tell unless it's mentioned or known in person.

I think i'm so used to seeing people who are vegan to be on the extreme ends of the scale (extreme hostility towards all others who eat meat vs those who don't care at all abt what others eat but just are vegan themselves), that seeing your calmer view is actually a breath of fresh air, and it actually does make me want to further research the topic.

Whilst I don't think I'd ever be able to be a dietary vegan, I'm actually quite glad and surprised that you can be considered vegan for other reasons, such as just not buying leather - again, I think it's difficult to find views like this as the majority of views online can be quite extreme. Thanks for opening my eyes to this as well.

And finally, I definitely do agree that many ppl can be oblivious to animal agriculture and its effects, and I do think that if people are in the position where they can't eat vegetarian/vegan, they should still advocate for the improvement of animal welfare.

I do hope that you aren't too disheartened by any negative comments you got - I know I'm on anon too, but I'm just a bit scared to speak off anon, and I would feel awful sending hateful messages behind an anonymous mask. I hope you have a decent holiday season regardless.

You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say all of this! When I turned vegan (not so long ago) I felt so much joy and willingness to share my passion for the topic, only to quickly find out that people tend to criticise vegans on the spot. I have sent sources before like I did with you, but they weren't even looked at. It seems like vegans are commonly seen as individuals who are annoying, extreme, privileged and whatnot. And I'm sure some of them are like that, as it is with every other 'group' really - but don't let it mislead you into believing all vegans are like that. Truth be told, I have yet to meet one single vegan who is like that. Besides, where does this idea of the 'annoying vegan' come from? We all have it in our minds, but why? Have we actually met one? Honestly, being at a dining table with others as a vegan has been the complete opposite for me: I'm the one who gets questioned, annoyed, criticised and made fun of. I still remember the very first reaction I got at a restaurant, as soon as I revealed I am vegan: "what, is your dog vegan too? Hahaha!" and from that point on, everyone at the table began talking about veganism and how extreme it is, in front of me, without listening to me. Everybody was suddenly a nutrition expert and began trying their best to show me a point that makes veganism invalid. It felt really bad and uncomfortable, and the same thing has repeated over and over, except for a few nonvegan friends who were simply curious about my choice and asked me normal questions. I shared my experience with other vegans and they've been through the same thing if not worse. Sorry for rambling, I just really want to tell you I understand, and that I had the same idea of vegans in my mind before becoming one. But being one has opened my eyes a lot. I personally don't like classifying myself as me vs. them, that's a dangerous path to take… before being vegan, I am a person, just like you, just like them, just like us. There are no sides, as I see it.

Thank you for apologising, I'm sorry as well if I made you feel uncomfortable in any way. I promise I did not mean to guilt trip anyone with my drawing, and it's absolutely great that you came and told me what you think about it! It means the world to me when someone tells me what they think or feel about my art. You're right, online views can be extreme, and I admit I have reblogged posts that felt like an accusatory finger pointed at nonvegans, but I'm still learning. Those posts feel kind of comforting, especially when others attack my beliefs (which happens a bit too often with veganism). But I'm going to try my best to keep in mind how it might sound to people who aren't vegans.

Oh, and yeah, right? I've always thought that being vegan means not eating any animal product or byproduct. A lot of people have this misconception in their minds, so when I read the actual definition of veganism, I was surprised! I quote, "Veganism is a philosophy and way of living which seeks to exclude—as far as is possible and practicable—all forms of exploitation of, and cruelty to, animals for food, clothing or any other purpose" it is just so liberating to read, isn't it? All I need to do is whatever is in my power and within my possibilities to reduce, as much as I can, my contributions to the animal agricolture industry. There is no such thing as a perfect vegan. But I can still do something, and that will be enough. For example, I personally chose to go down the dietary route (I just baked a vegan blueberry cake, hehe!) but I have yet to exclude animal products from my clothing (I have some clothes that partially contain wool, but I decided not to donate them for now - I'm taking it one step at a time). As you can see, it's really not as black and white as it is commonly believed. I'm just doing what I can.

It's okay to be on anon. I have an idea of who you are, but of course, I can't be sure. What matters is that you were so very kind with your asks and I'm grateful ❤️ Well, the other anon is clearly going through a lot and I just wish I could've helped more. There are far worse things I could've received so I'm okay, don't worry! Please let me know what you think of the stuff I linked you. Don't let anything guilt you. This will be simply you reading about things and learning from different sources. And I applaud you for it!

Merry Christmas, if you celebrate it ⭐

#vegan #veganism #anon ask

[lixiepeach]

(Same anon here) It’s very interesting to me to see so many authors stop writing because of a lack of interaction because I completely understand why that’s disheartening but also I never personally feel that the feedback I could give would make anyone want to write more, I just don’t think my opinion means that much. In a way I’m very ignorant into what motivates fanfic writers to want to continue. I also don’t have an active tumblr account so the best I can do is read something I like and bookmark it for later

As someone who’s never even attempted to write because they have no talent I’m so in awe of people who are able to do that and out their work out there, and it’s so sad to hear that fics aren’t doing well. My feedback for the particular fic you were writing is that it hooked me instantly and your writing style is what I always look for in something to read. Truth be told I’ve been checking ao3 for an update every day since the last chapter but how could you know that until I tell you?

Regardless of my opinion/feedback it doesn’t sound like you’re in a good place to be writing, and I truly hope you can feel better soon because what you have written is phenomenal and I’m sorry that you haven’t been getting the interaction you deserve.

Interaction. Interaction is what makes fic writers want to continue to write. That's why we keep practically begging for it. That's why writers keep leaving this site, why they're not writing anymore is because we're getting to interaction. Reblog things. Send messages/asks/put things in the tags that you liked about it. If you don't have an active account, send anons like this. All you have to do is go on anon, send an ask and say "I loved (insert title here)" and you will make a fic writers day.

I see that a lot that people don't know what to say or they don't think anything they have to say matters. It does. It matters a lot. A heart emoji, a keyboard smash, literally "I loved it." Every comment I get (that's not a negative one) I read over and over and over even if it's just an unintelligible keyboard smash because I elicited that reaction from someone because of what I made. There's thousands of posts out there about how to comment, how to interact with fics if you're unsure of how to do it. You don't have to do like a book review with three paragraphs picking out every little detail you liked. Some people do that and bless them but it's not necessary. Just telling a writer you loved their work is enough to make them want to keep writing because they know someone liked it.

I appreciate your feedback. I'm really glad you've been enjoying the story and it's made you want to go back and look for an update all the time. It's really nice to hear that people are enjoying it. I mean, I could look at the hits to see how many people have viewed it but I can't tell how many of those people read it, liked it, keep going back or if they all just clicked it, read two paragraphs and left because they didn't. We can't see specifics on views on Tumblr or Ao3, just how many people have clicked on the story and how many each month. So hearing that you've been going back to it to check it means a lot.

I'll be okay. I'm just not really in the writing mood right now. I've got a lot going on in my life and I'm gonna get really busy soon so I don't know when I'll be writing again. Could be tomorrow, could be months from now. I honestly can't say.

#sorry this took like four days to get to #like i said there's a lot going on #and i really wanted to have a well thought out answer

[devilsgotmyback]

16 july 2022 8.37 am

*Things to not to teach my future child*

#1 If you stop reacting, they'll stop bullying you.

#2 That sex, sexuality, drinking/drugs/partying, politics, money, spirituality are awkward things to discuss. I want my future kids to know facts and that if they are ever in trouble, I am a safe place for them. We don't have to talk about it if they don't want to, they'll be taught how to be safe, but they should also know that these subjects are a part of life and should not cause shame.

#3 "If a boy acts like a jerk, it means he likes you!"

No...just no...

First of all, he shouldn't be let off the hook for acting like a jerk. (Whether he's 5 or 105.) Secondly, it teaches girls that abuse is okay, or that they should expect to be treated like crap (and that it's okay for them to be treated like crap.)

#4 Lack of empathy. My parents grew up in a really really horrible situation and they made it out and did well for themselves. So now anytime anyone struggles they refuse to feel bad for them because they have gone through worse and did fine. I think people deserve empathy regardless.

#5 That parents never have to apologize to their kids.

I love my dad. He is a great dad and I know he loves me so much, but he has it in his head that even now, even when his youngest (me) is an adult, that he doesn't need to apologize if he does something wrong. It's baffling.

#6 Math and science aren’t gonna serve a girl well.

I would had killed to have someone reared me into STEM when I was younger.

#7 "Respect your elders" but in the sense that you should just keep quiet when you disagree with somebody older than you - turns out many people are awful regardless of their age. Don't get me wrong, my default is to respect any new person I meet, but when a person has repeatedly shown me that they don't are about my feelings or even basic logic, I won't hold back from speaking my mind calmly, even if they see this as disrespectful.

#8 Finish your plate. B*tch that is what all that Tupperware is for.

#9 That crying is shameful.

#10 That you need to hustle 100% of the time and be constantly busy with school/work, extra activities, side projects, cleaning etc. Spending time unwinding is a sign of laziness and boredeom and intelligent people are never bored. This really messed me up and I'm still learning the art of wasting time.

#11 “Bullies are cowards.”

No they aren’t. They’re evil scum who are naively capable of ruining your life for decades after. And they’re not afraid to do so.

#12 My mum made me believe that privacy was a privilege. Wasn't until I started studying childcare and learning in depth about the rights of the child that I learned it is a right and that my mum is full of bullsh*t

#13 Tell me the truth I won't be mad.

#14 That it’s rude to express any negative emotions.

#15 That you have to “suffer for love” (I’m a chick). Thanks mom, you set me up for a lifetime of trying to change narcissistic losers.

#16 My dad always said. "Children should be seen and not heard." I'm not a big fan of that one

#17 Well I was mostly raised by my grandparents. We lived in an all white community and my grandparents believed every terrible thing they had ever been told about black people. I spent my youth being fed those lies but everyone I knew was white and I couldn’t imagine it being true. When I got to college I met my first non white people and was able to verify that the things they believed just weren’t true.

And luckily both of them realized that before they passed away.

#18 ‘’Parents always know what’s best for their child’’

#19 They're not gay, they're just confused.

#20 Animals don't get cold, they're made for being outside.

#21 That their love has conditions, and if not followed they will drop you in your time of need. Right or wrong, I hope my children will never feel like they can’t talk to me or that I will judge them.

#22 Saying, 'Do as I say, not as I do.' A leader shouldn't ask his followers to do something he wouldn't.

#23 That sex is something to be ashamed of.

#24 That as long as we “have always been given everything we need we are loved”. The emotional abuse has ruined me

#25 The man of the house is always right.

#26 No, it's not racist to say that.

#27 Don't worry about the college loans! You're smart, you'll get a good job and pay that off in a few years.

#28 That i basically have to be a smaller version of them, believe exactly what they do and not think for myself and have my own opinion. If i have kids id let them be open minded and believe what they want

#29 That it is illegal to have the little ceiling light on in the car.

#30 To try to fit in as much as possible and to please others, at the expense of who you really are on the inside.