#how much grief can food give one person.

[eluxcastar]

Hello Riri! :]

I'm in my platonic harbingers with a child reader era, and you're one of the few people I follow who writes platonic stuff on an occasion. So here's my request!

Here's the small storyline I have. Reader is the child of a god (you're free to decide what they are the god of, if you want) who is extremely well known around Tevyat, and puts on a very intimidating and serious presence. Yet one unfortunate day, the readers parent dies, so now they have to take on their legacy at a too young of age. Making them grow up out of their childhood much faster and pressuring them into becoming exactly like their parent. Cold, intimidating, and serious.

And out of all the mortals the reader has met, the harbingers are who they find comfort in. They could be lecturing some other mortal one minute, and the next minute, they see one of the harbingers. They're grabbing them by the hands, bouncing on their tip toes with a bright smile.

(Hope you're having a good day! And please don't overwork yourself<3)

Fatui harbingers with a child god

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: child reader taking over as archon and basically immediately proving why child rulers are a bad idea but it's ok because it's cute and endearing

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, god reader, signora might be ooc tbh I struggled to think for her, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 3k

this has been in my inbox for some time, even though I've really wanted to do it for ages. I'm sorry honey it took me a while to get to it. the description of their parent at least to me was giving mr zhongli when he was morax and I immediately thought of the ramifications of him faking his death in the rite of descension which makes me wanna write something else BUT THAT'S FOR LATER

I meant to post this four and a half hours ago but suddenly it was like twice the length I thought it would be and uh yeah that was not the plan but enjoy the food served hot and fresh

There has hardly been a moment of grief since you were orphaned, and the people are turning to you for their next overseer. You, small, fragile, and ill-prepared, are the one they wish to see take up the pillar left in your father's wake. You weren't ready, and maybe you never would've been, embraced by the caring side of your well and truly mellowed-out father and cherished by the people as the child of the nation.

Your transition from people's treasure to people's guide was jarring, and you're still not used to it. You move with what pleases and hide what brings deep frowns and disappointed eyes. The people no longer want a child but a god. They want their pride, once a god who had walked by their side for millennia, now the passing generation of a god as the mantle shifts to his blood.

It's hard not to notice what they make you, now the spitting image of your father, though you can only parrot his earned wisdom and show a brave face to keep the nation from despair.

You have but a single ally—the Tsaritsa—someone whose messengers approached you to ask for your father's gnosis and who gladly agreed to offer you an invitation to Snezhnaya at your request to speak to her personally, quite honestly not knowing how to say that you frankly didn't know what to do with the gnosis. Though you could keep it, you're unsure how to harness its power, wield it, or even control it. Your father was strong, you're not.

She is an intimidating presence but gentle. She knew of your father for as long as she had been an archon—though they weren't on good terms toward the end—perhaps you could understand her more than he would. He was the original archon in his seat, but you are an inheritor like her. In her lands, you are the careful balance of both a god and a child, spoken to with the grace of a higher power but the softness that is befitting to a young child.

It is as you are.

Tartaglia is the first to seek a test of your strength, though you wish not to hurt him and convince him to wait. So long as the answer is someday, he allows you to let him down easily and settles at indulging your requests to join the snowball fight you noticed him having. You want to join in, fidgeting and with your gaze flickering between the smiling children and your feet. You push away your every want to join them and play as well, but remind yourself of the people who would scorn you. It's unfitting for a god to behave like an immature child, you remind yourself, but every hope of remaining steadfast to that is gone as Tartaglia notices you watching.

His offer is merely that—an offer. He speaks with a snowball forming in his hands as he approaches, his thick coat engulfing his form and the red scarf bundled around his neck to keep him warm. You have to look up to meet his eyes, playful and perhaps a little mischievous. Tartaglia holds the snowball out to you as if it were his peace offering.

"You look like you want to join the fun. Care to throw a snowball or two with us?"

"May I?"

And with that, you take his offering.

Pantalone's musings and the intentions of his gifts are not beyond you. He means to win you over and perhaps spoil you a little. It is coddling, and you notice it. He wants what he wants, and he will get it out of you, but it is also not beyond him to recognise that you are...naïve, endearingly. Pantalone can lavish you in fine silks all he wants, but you have received many offerings, so they don't particularly sway you as he had hoped, and he moves on. Your true weakness lies in children's toys, the many things you have been denied since you have been forced to steel yourself. The smile that twitches at the corners of your lips as he presents you with the first is enough to confirm it.

Toys are made for children; though you try to deny it, you are still a child at heart. Gifting a child a toy they will try to pretend they don't cherish but will protect with their life is perhaps the quickest way to earn their favour. He watches as you fiddle with the arms of the plush cat when you think nobody is looking, asking it questions and then responding to yourself in an all-too-dedicated voice you put on for this cat. 

"Oh, Mr Cat, would you like some borscht too? It's very good."

"Yes, please, I would love to try some!"

Pantalone admittedly can't deny that you come with your own charms.

Signora spoils you what many of your aids have tried to before you, the chance to fix your hair, marvel at a pretty lady and wish you were half as sophisticated as her. She is your role model, second only to the Tsaritsa. She is beautiful and elegant and willing to teach you her ways as long as you continue to show up as cute as you are. Fix your posture a bit, head up, and walk everywhere with purpose, even if there isn't one. She has mastered the art, and you want it. Pantalone has his own appeal, a sophisticated man who learned through blood, sweat and tears, but there is something so distinct about Signora that makes you run to her at your first problem of presentation.

Like your mother, she will take you by the hand, lead you to a mirror, straighten your back, tilt your head up by the chin, and tell you to look at yourself now. Each time, you stare dumbly in awe of her reflection standing behind you, observing you like something precious, and it fills you with the confidence you need to heed her advice. It doesn't occur to you that Signora looks at you that way only because she thinks you're cute in your efforts, but too much like a child who got into their mother's perfume to be taken seriously.

"How others see you is important. Do you think they want to see their god with their back slouched and head hung? Hold your gaze above the people."

"It's-- well, different. I think I just look tense."

Sandrone has also come to realise that your weakness lies in toys, though she will not admit to aiding and abetting Pantalone's endeavours to find you a plushie. Instead, she shows you Katheryne. You have seen Katheryne before; you are sure of that, and that is only confirmed as Sandrone informs you that she exists in every branch of the Adventurers' Guild, including the one in your homeland. Katheryne is your access to knowledge, and the Northland Bank is your connection to Snezhnaya. Sandrone offers you comfort, the path that will lead you back to where help is and where you can go when you become overwhelmed by responsibility.

She likes your company, a reluctant admission that does not come cheap as she bargains your silence with the knowledge that she's aware of your liking for your cat toy. The embarrassment that overwhelms you is palpable until she offers you her workshop to play when your quarters are so overcrowded by your aids. You couldn't come to Snezhnaya alone for your safety, and it leaves you stranded without a moment of peace at times.

"Really?...and I can just, stay here? For as long as I want?"

"Isn't that what was offered to you?"

"Well...yes, thank you."

Scaramouche, whom you meet adjacent to Sandrone, is ill-tempered in the presence of others but a tad nicer when it comes to you. He does not drop his rough-around-the-edges personality to melt his heart out of his chest for you, but you manage to strike the perfect cord in his to gain liberties others cannot, having him share sweets with you. You learned at one point he really doesn't like them, leading you to wonder why they suddenly appeared ready and available for you to stuff your pockets full and snack on them when nobody's looking. You earn his favour through endearment and talk to him like he's normal because he is.

He is the child of a god, though in a different capacity to you. He was not loved quite so dearly by his mother and cannot share with you the pain of losing someone who treasured you. He was merely abandoned. There is the vague part of you that shuns the idea his softness is pity, sympathy even, as you're stuck stumbling through the world alone. It is all too familiar to him, and if candy will make you smile at him so cheerfully and hug him so tightly, then candy is a simple trade-off.

"Are you sure you don't want any? These are yours."

"Sickly sweet things make me feel like my teeth are fusing together. You can have them."

Pulcinella reminds you of home, the trinkets gathered on a whim that he keeps, the years showing through the rooms dedicated to him as you notice things your father told you of in stories. These are stories that Pulcinella will start off on without prompting, indulging your curiosity before you even lowered your guard enough to show it and casually enough that you slowly ask more. Every item holds a story: what it is, how he obtained it, why he kept it, who it was for. You see many such things around what used to be your house, but you don't know all of the stories, treasuring the ones you remember.

Pulcinella doesn't recall every story either, as some of your pointing and questioning is met with remarks of how long it has been. It is the only thing you feel you share with him, a living space filled to the brim with memories. Many of your trinkets don't belong to you, but his do, and it's nice to hear someone tell you stories again as he lets you pick from the collection of sweets in your pockets to eat when it suits your fancy.

"What about this? It reminds me of a lumenstone, the ones from the chasm."

"It is, and it came from Liyue when I asked that one of my subordinates bring it back for me. You must have a fine eye for these things."

"Not really, only lumenstone and noctilucous jade glow like this."

Arlecchino's offering to you is company, and plenty of it. Children who are so far removed from the stretch of news beyond the issues of the Steambird they manage to get their hands on that they wouldn't know your face from a haggler on the street. Father brought a guest to play with, and that's what matters as they induct you into their games, teach you the rules, and regard you exactly as they regard every other child their age. You are given the choice to simply become nobody, and you love it. Though you were once only a child, you were still the child of a god, and everyone knew it. Now, you elicit excitement only because someone new enters their lives, someone to learn about and befriend, merely a guest their father brought them.

Despite her sharp exterior, she is sweeter to you than you expected. You thought Arlecchino might be scarier, meaner, harsher, but she softens when she speaks to you. It is not with the cutthroat demeanour she holds speaking to the Harbingers and lacks a degree of the stern attitude she fronts to the children. You are not the average child, and it's necessary to treat you with some degree of respect, but you notice she's gentler with you than others, and it almost makes you feel special.

Columbina has sung you to sleep many times during your stay; her voice is sweet and more than enough to calm you. You let her hold your cat plush and dance with you in the hallways with the excuse you need knowledge of these things should you aspire toward being an archon, even if spinning around until you fall on the floor from dizziness and burst out laughing is a tad non-traditional. Columbina can see things others can't notice more than the human eye is capable of, and you'd rather not know what that's like. Something in the way she speaks tells you that it's hardly adjacent to anything human, closer to you, but still quite far off. It's interesting to hear the strange things humans have no business knowing.

Your hand is grasped in Columbina's, her fingers holding you tenderly. Her eyes are partly obscured beneath the lattice of a mask she wears. You're not sure if you could really call it a mask. She steps back, tugging you with her, and spins you in time with the steps she takes, each accompanied by a shift that forces you to keep up with where she moves, her other hand on your shoulder. It is the closest you will get to proper dancing, though merely a fool's waltz. You can't dance; being spun down a hallway while you struggle to match her movements feels much like you imagine a waltz would.

"It's not really proper dancing if we have no pattern to it."

"There is no such thing as proper dancing. If you'd prefer it, I could sing."

Dottore is someone you did not expect to be so open to the idea of you, and your assumptions were proven correct by his apprehension to engage with you. He is curt with you at best and avoidant at worst. You are a child filled with the yearning to touch everything that doesn't belong to you, desperate to hear too much about the things that don't concern you. You are young, needy, and with no concept of what is beyond you. Dottore's unique abundance of knowledge is appealing to you, however. He knows things your father did, many of which he didn't tell you, but Dottore will, so long as it gets you to sit still and stop interrupting him. You may be convinced you have pocketed your unnecessary emotions away, but he has seen you, and that is an insulting lie.

Your wants are written on your face plain as day, so long as people pay enough attention to you to care what you feel. He does not especially care, not for the child of a god, but it helps to know what you want to stick your nose in most. It helps to know how you benefit from him, and on luckier days, you might even catch him in a better mood when he is willing to indulge your interest in his knowledge. Your capacity to understand, let alone remember, hardly worries him.

"So you have clones of yourself? And they just...work for you?"

"Not exact clones—segments. They have wills of their own and use them as they see fit."

Capitano is strong, a man of few words, and he does not abhor your presence quite so strongly, nor does he indulge your more childish desires. What you get from Capitano is respect, the highest honour you can get from his book in your eyes, and it comes from your perseverance. You're running around working so hard when you're so young, and you deserve a break sometimes. You deserve a quiet place to curl up in the corner with that cat he's caught you hiding under where no one can bother you, and maybe with a few sweets you always seem to have these days. That corner still does not exist, though he will find you one if you want it. 

You show no signs of slowing down, are energetic and eager and are far too committed to the act of being something you're not to listen to him when he tells you to rest. Gods must all be fickle. The most he can do for you is make sure you're safe and happy as you will be in your position, maybe wipe your hands of powdered sugar when you find pastries at the market you want and recklessly eat them without thinking of how you'll clean up short of wiping the remnants on your clothes, but you'll never do that as you are.

Pierro once made you nervous. He is a stern, serious man who never smiles. Pierro is steadfast in loyalty and never wavers, which is precisely what you have begun to aspire to be now that that is what has been asked of you. You could never hope to replicate the kind of dedication he has, and perhaps that is part of what sways you. Though you have become so comfortable behaving childishly around some people, you fear you may never be around him, whether because you fear his disapproval or yearn for his approval. Despite that, he is arguably who you trail around behind most, quiet, observing, trying to figure out how to copy and apply what he has to yourself.

It settles the quick realisation he reminds you most of what the people saw in your father. Someone like him is someone people envision fostering a nation to prosperity, and you fight your own subconscious to keep all of your slipping habits, making sure he never sees you sneaking candy, hiding your cat plush from him, refusing Tartaglia's every offer to play games around him. You're not sure why you think that will make him like you more, having long ago gained his favour, unable to notice the faint smiles and the conscious effort to make you believe he doesn't notice you out the window barreling snowballs at Tartaglia.

You are still a child at heart; he is just about the last person you can hope to hide that from.

#♡ — anon visit. #✦ — headcanons. #✦ — fluff. #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #childe #childe x reader #pantalone #pantalone x reader #signora #signora x reader #sandrone #sandrone x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #pulcinella #pulcinella x reader #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #columbina #columbina x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #capitano #capitano x reader #pierro #pierro x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader

[pix3lplays]

I just thought of something really sad but at least it ends on a happy note.

Aventurine's partner leaving him after years of being together not so much because of his job but because they don't want to burden him.

This sucks the life out of Aventurine who immediately begs them to stay. Is it because of the gifts he gave them? He'll give them better gifts! Or is it their dates? No worries, he'll take them to better restaurants! He'll do better! Just, please, don't leave him. But it's too late, they're already out the door, much to his horror and grief.

In his desperation, he tries calling and texting them to no avail. As he sits in his office like a lifeless doll, he begins to laugh but it eventually turns into sobs. He doesn't even realize he's cried himself to sleep until he woke up from a dream where you're still with him.

Poor Aventurine couldn't eat anything without feeling nauseous and has to resort to consuming meal replacements. It's not healthy at all but what was he supposed to do? He's body rejects any food that isn't yours. His stress has increased yet he couldn't rest or sleep well without you.

As the days went by, he's just a mess; unkempt hair and wardrobe, red puffy eyes with dark bags, and he looked thinner. Then, one day, he ends up passing out. As his consciousness begins to fade, he swore he could hear your voice amongst the worried IPC members.

Aventurine wakes up in his room, dressed in his pajamas when he smells a familiar smell. He immediately gets out of bed and sprints towards the kitchen. There you were in an apron, cooking several of his favorite dishes. He felt his eyes get watery and his sniffles startled you and you spun around. Before you can ask him if he's alright, his arms are already around you. He begs for you to come back to him because he couldn't bare living another day without you or your presence. After sitting down and talking for hours, you two were able to rekindle your relationship.

That night, he slept with a full stomach and a happy feeling in his chest because you were back in his arms.

Oh my gosh, Aventurine-

But this immediately got me thinking about the other characters that would be completely destroyed if you left after being with him for so many years…

Spoilers for Sunday~

-If you had been with Argenti for a long time and you suddenly decided it would be better if you went your separate ways…yeah. I think that would really throw him off his balance.

You’re gone, you’re gone…you were his everything, his Angel, and you were gone now…what is he supposed to even do?? Pursuing beauty has such little meaning without you in his life. What’s the point of gazing upon beauty without someone to share it with?

It’d be so hard to see Argenti like that. He’s usually so…bright. So full of life. But now he’s lost his luster. Anyone who once knew him can tell something’s wrong. He used to be so happy, so interested in people, and spreading the name of Beauty and Idrila but now you’re gone so what’s the point?

He’s so uncharacteristically quiet now. You left your wedding ring on your pillow when you left, and now he carries it with him, in the small hope of one day returning it to you.

-Gallagher is a MESS. You couldn’t have anticipated how much it’d really hurt him to leave but…you had to. You couldn’t handle being alone anymore, always just…waiting for him to come home.

His life kinda falls apart. He becomes a little harsher in his security guard duties. He drinks more. He still has a picture of you in his wallet.

He misses you. Misses you so much. He’s your pathetic ex-husband who’s desperate to have you back. You get a lot of voice mails and text messages, but for some reason you don’t have the heart to just…block him.

Okay maybe a controversial take but I’ll say it…Sunday is EMOTIONAL. He’s already lost one person very important to him, and he had to act like it didn’t shake him up, and now you’re leaving him, too?

He doesn’t understand. Doesnt understand why you’re doing this to him. Doesn’t understand why you must disappear too…hasn’t he already given enough? Why must you do this to him?

You just couldn’t handle him anymore.

Maybe he’ll finally break. He disappears from the public eye long enough for people to notice. For people to ask questions.

And when he finally appears again, there’s no you in sight. Something is visibly wrong with him. He’s missing feathers from his pretty wings, the deep bags under his eyes are hard to ignore…Anyone can tell he’s just TRYING to hold it together, but he’s completely alone now…how okay can he be?

Even his little “I’m back and everything’s FINE” speech sounded incredibly wrong. He’s not fine.

He misses you, he misses Robin, and it doesn’t help that the Masked Fool is constantly shapeshifting into you just to mock him.

She loves making up all sorts of reasons for why you might’ve left.

Oh he was too mean to you…he didn’t give you enough attention…you found someone better than him…

He’s never wanted to hurt someone so badly before, but how could he raise his hand against someone who looks like you…?

He will try to continue to suffer in silence…but who knows how long that’ll last before he finally breaks.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Aventurine #Aventurine x reader #Hsr Aventurine x reader #honkai star rail Aventurine x reader #Argenti #Argenti x reader #hsr Argenti x reader #honkai star rail Argenti x reader #Gallagher #Gallagher x reader #Hsr Gallagher x reader #honkai star rail Gallagher x reader #Sunday #Sunday x reader #Hsr Sunday x reader #honkai star rail Sunday x reader

[amerricanartwork]

RW Headcanon: How Arti Gives Back

In the RW community on this site, I’ve heard quite a few Artimand thoughts about how Gourmand would help Artificer heal from her trauma and grief. And while that’s all good, something that’s continuously puzzled me when shipping Artimand romantically is, “but how would Artificer help Gourmand?”

Let me tell you, one of my all-time favorite qualities in a ship is the characters helping each other improve themselves, especially in ways no other character pairing can. And while it’s easy to see Gourmand helping Artificer improve, given the vast amount of grief and lust for vengeance she has to overcome, and since Gourmand probably has a natural inclination to help others in need, what would she give to him in return? And to add to that, why would Gourmand fall in love with her and choose her as a mate, as opposed to just casually looking out for her and straight pitying her at worst, especially when she’d most-likely appear very un-qualified for romance initially?

Well, I’ve developed some thoughts and headcanons for that, and I’ll put them below the cut! Please let me know if anything could be improved, or if you can add to it! I’d love more reasons to think of these two sweethearts!

Option 1: Combat

Arti would help Gourmand improve his combat skills. The way I see it, Gourmand is a very strong warrior, but doesn’t often engage in combat simply because he doesn’t see a need for it outside of defense. Even then, due to his kind nature, he typically only fights back enough to deter predators, not kill them. However, with Arti being a carnivore, and having LOTS of experience with more complex combat situations than just defense (mostly from scav encounters), I like to think that Arti would give Gourm more combat tips and they may even end up bonding on occasional hunting trips together. And it would circle back to Arti because Gourm, with his cooking skills, would make the resulting meals from their hunts taste SO much better than what Arti is used to, allowing her to slow down and really enjoy food in a way she hasn’t been able to with her warrior lifestyle!

Option 2: Motherhood

This one’s pretty self-explanatory. Given Arti was a mother once, and Gourmand’s story ends with him getting 2 pups, I could easily see him wanting Arti to stay around to act as a mother for them. Not only would that give her the chance to embrace motherhood again, but it would take some pressure from Gourmand because he has a partner (and an experienced one at that) to help him with parenting! I mean, don’t get me wrong, Gourmand is undoubtedly great with pups, but even so it’s good to have some help! Even more so since (depending on what general age you headcanon the pups as) he’d likely have to leave his pups alone while getting food; it’d be nice to have someone with her own experience caring for pups who can look after them during those times and, to add onto the first option, even help teach them how to hunt and survive on their own!

And heck, I personally actually like to imagine that, a little later, after she gets comfortable enough and fully overcomes her grief, Artificer would actually have a second litter with Gourmand (naratively-speaking, this would signify the completion of her character arc)! Of course it’d be a big deal for Arti, but just imagine how much fun Gourm would have exploring the new experience of getting to raise biological pups this time! And I can just see him being so, so thankful that Arti somehow managed to give him even more family to love!

Option 3: Passion

So this one’s the most personal-headcanon-based, and built off my personal depiction of Gourmand as a character. In my headcanon, Gourmand starts out as a rather reluctant leader of his colony. I have this whole idea of what specific event led to him becoming the leader, but to summarize, it seemed like a very sudden chance event at the time, yet from it he was more-or-less unanimously chosen to lead by the other Outer Expanse slugcats due to him having shown great creativity, survival skills, and protectiveness. Gourmand himself, however, doesn’t really feel he’s fit to be a leader; he’s used to an easygoing life just peacefully surviving and doing his own thing, not managing and defending an entire colony! He’s so used to seeing the simple parts of the world that he often underestimates himself, so something as “grand” as leadership often appears too great for him.

That’s where Arti comes in. I like to imagine that Artificer is extremely passionate, but that for a long time after her pups’ deaths, that passion was manifested almost exclusively as immense rage, grief, and desire for revenge against their killers. But imagine if, once she gets comfortable with Gourmand’s colony, she begins to show that passion in positive emotions! Not only would she, after seeing what he’s capable of in hunts, help him see that he IS the perfect leader for his colony, but just IMAGINE: Arti hyping Gourm up as the biggest, strongest warrior in the Expanse, just before the two prepare to take down a king vulture; or Arti patching him up after a really tough battle and assuring him he’ll be even better next time; or Arti teasing Gourm and them chasing each other around as they spar together in the OE fields; or Arti getting all dramatic as she recites tales of her epic scavenger battles to his eager pups; or Arti showering Gourm with kisses after he makes a REALLY good meal with her favorite meats!  There are SO many possibilities for hypeman Arti, and I figure that, once Gourm sees her fiery spirit used in a positive way, especially to help him and his family, he can’t help but fall for her! And this idea is part of why I like the Spicybun ship name so much - while Gourmand helps Arti mellow out, Arti literally spices up his life! They just compliment each other so perfectly!!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

MAN do I love these two so much! This is about all I have right now on this subject, but again, I’d LOVE to hear any other ideas for how Artificer would help Gourmand, or additions to these ideas! I just adore the “opposites attract” ship trope (although I personally prefer to call it “inverses attract”), and I think Artimand is easily one of the best examples of that in Rain World! 

Thank you to anyone who made it to the end of this wall of text! And let me know if I should share any more Rain World headcanons, because I’ve definitely got more!

Oh, and if you've found this, @melissa-titanium, hope you like it again! Let me know if you ever want me to stop @-ing you with these Artimand headcanons, by the way!

#art #artwork #sketch #doodle #digital #digital art #fanart #rain world #rw headcanons #shipping #rw shipping #slugcat #rw slugcat #artificer #rw artificer #gourmand #rw gourmand #artimand #rw spicybun #rw barbecue #quetzalli draws #quetzalli pairs #quetzalli headcanons #honestly though girls giving their boys some sweet loving is a fancy of mine for all my favorite ships #i just think arti would be especially passionate about it #in like a “YEEEAAAHHH!! That's my husband!!!” kinda way

[nrdmssgs]

Hello id like to humbly request a scenario with König where y/n previously went MIA, and is assumed dead. König is sent on a hostage rescue mission and when he gets there finds out not only is she alive, but she’s one of the hostages he’s there to rescue 🩷 i ADORE your writing!

Masterlist

Angst, hurt/comfort

Pairing: König x afab reader

TW: Mention of alcohol, several mentions of grief and depression, mentions of injuries, mention of human trafficking, swearing.

Authors note: I've tried to keep all the disturbing stuff very mild, but I can't help but see, as the readers` alleged death would absolutely crush König. Sorry for taking so long. I love this request so much, I can't stop thanking you, dear anon. Love you! This is actually kinda songfic, so if anybody needs music for this one: here you are.

Scarlet shell

“König, listen to me! Please! There is no body! There is nothing, we could possibly miss here!” His squad mate is trying to catch up with König, but it's impossible: he moves forward, maneuvering, between cargo transports at incredible speed.

How many times did he search for you past days? More precisely, how many dozens of times? 

He searched every centimeter of the perimeter where you worked, checked literally everywhere.

He did not take breaks for food or sleep. His team gradually lost strength, but he did not give up: he continued to circle around the place where the explosion thundered on that fateful night.

Koenig could not bring himself to stop and admit the obvious: if you were at the epicenter at the time of the explosion, only a damp shadow on the ground and a couple of scraps of clothing could remain from your body.

You don't need to talk if you don't feel like it, my love. Please never feel sorry for staying silent around me. Never beat up yourself. We all are born different, we walk different paths: your journey has made you waste most of the words we could have shared very early. It sometimes happens so, I know. The truth is that you don't have to put into words what you feel when you are next to me: I see it all in your eyes. You have reached such perfection in these silent speeches that I am ready to sit and listen to you endlessly. Even if "listening" means just looking into your eyes.

At first, he can't make himself come into your room. He comes to the door, holds out his hand and, after standing there for a while, turns around.

He needs to collect your belongings, make room for a new resident. But König can't gather enough strength.

When he finally forces himself into your room, a deafening silence engulfs him: your voice no longer here, your laughter, even your breathing is no longer heard.

König starts to collect your things, putting them carefully in a cardboard box: clothes, equipment, books, small utensils. All this absorbed your smell, your warmth. Every single item seems to burn his fingers.

He doesn't know how long it takes before he gives up: it hurts so much, he feels the pain on a physical level. 

Your shirt falls on the edge of the box. He brushes his fingers against your blanket and pillow. König kneels, then curls up right on the floor, ignoring the dust.

“Meine… meine…*” He can't even say your name - it gets stuck right in his throat, choking him. He never had enough words, when you were around, and he hates himself for that. But now, he loses even your name.

Sometimes I just think about words. Yesterday I looked at you and thought of the beautiful word you taught me: “die Hingabe” or "devotion". What is it in essence? Persistence and immutability in ones feelings, right? I was bored, so I googled this word. The search engine told me that it has approximately 195 million pages in its database that mention this word. Things were better with the word "honor" - almost 2 billion pages. With "love" - 11 billion pages. So love is 56 times more popular than devotion... Although it is clear that only a deeply devoted person can truly love, right?

Sometimes he hates it: his devotion to you does not weaken with time. A few years pass, and he learns to live in constant pain. Learns to wake up every morning, knowing well, he won't see your face. Grows accustomed to all-consuming silence and cold around him.

But what drives him to the limit is a constant urge to finish yet another mission, just to come back to the base, bury his face in your shirt and disappear completely in a slumber without thoughts.

Nothing helps: alcohol tastes like water, training doesn't leave him breathless and too weak to even think of you, no matter how hard he tries.

At some point, he even finds himself talking to another woman. She even takes his number, and sometimes they exchange warm and kind messages. He answers her automatically. 

Returning from their third meeting (he cant even call it a date), he realizes with horror that he does not remember her face.

There are no faces left in his life, except for one - that which he can neither see nor touch anymore. Your face.

My love, I see the scars, your traumas left on your body and in your mind. I know, it hurts. Every time, I ask you about them - I mean no further harm. You don't have to tell unless you are not ready. But I want you to see, that all those things didn't break you: you have not become the monster, you are scared of. There is still so much love, so much light in your hands. I want you to know, that the only reason, I'm asking you about your past traumas is that I want to fight them for you, to help you to heal. I'll fight for that love and light, you bear. Not to get them from you, never. But only for you to feel it all inside your heart.

König doesn't notice anything different. He just needed a new veil and didn't have any old black tshirts on hands.

So first he puts on a dark scarlet veil. It is still convenient. Then his old gloves are torn and he orders new ones... To match the color of the top.

It's just some gear, it doesn't affect anything. But rumors are spreading around the base.

"He's off the chain." 

"Did you see what he did to the hostiles on the last mission?" 

"That animal is unleashed." 

"We no longer have König - there is only the bloody beast under that veil" 

"I'm terrified by those red clothes whenever they flash somewhere on the battlefield. Fucking omen."

König ignores the whispers. He doesn't care. Is he more productive now? Well, maybe it's for better.

I keep writing you these silly letters, but I will never send them. I don't want to embarrass you with my chatter. I'll stack them in my drawer:  letter after letter, confession after confession. I told you the most important words a long time ago, but all this ... I don't want to think about the circumstances under which you could find these letters and read them. But if something does happen, remember: I am yours, from head to toe, completely yours. Even if I'm not next to you now - my body, my mind and my heart - yours. Love you.

His commanders tend not to send him on missions where he would have to interact with civilians. His approach to combat really becomes so brutal that bystanders and hostages run the risk of getting too severe moral trauma.

But when it comes to cleaning up an entire village, where people from all over the world are brought for human trafficking, they simply have no choice. They need the best of the best soldiers, and König tops the list.

And he justifies the title of the best: he sweeps through the village like a tornado, cleaning one room after another.

König is somehow merciful enough to rip the padlocks off the doors where the hostages were being held, make sure there are only civilians in the room, and move on to the next door and the next building.

He unleashes a wave of fury on his enemies, alternating quick kills with slow and painful ones. None of his team dares to speak to him.

When they report to him that the last building is cleared, and they can move back, he turns around with a predatory look.

The building where he stopped is immersed in silence. One of his people says something, but König only raises his finger to his lips and gestures that he is going to check the second floor.

He doesn't hear anything suspicious, doesn't see anything... But some inhuman instinct tells him that he's not alone here.

König tries to step quietly, but the old withered boards crackle treacherously under his feet.

He walks up to the back room on the second floor and pushes the door open. He remembers very well how he himself knocked out the lock some 15 minutes ago, but there was no one in the room ...

This time he comes in and takes a closer look. His eyes linger on the pile of dusty rags, carpets and gutted cushions on the floor.

It appears suspicious. He slowly approaches, pulls out a knife, and throws back several pillows at once.

What he sees makes him freeze in horror. Your face... He saw your face - emaciated, covered with cuts and bruises of all colors. You covered your mouth in horror with your hand, the faded skin tight around every bone, every joint. It seemed that even your eyes had lost almost all color: two dark gray abysses stared back at Koenig in fear of death.

You looked more like your own ghost, but that didn't matter. He very carefully lowered the knife to the ground.

"It's me." König unbuttoned his helmet and removed it and his veil. "It's me..."

You didn't answer. Only large tears glistened in the corners of your eyes.

“Meine Liebe*, it`s me.” He kept whispering, hoping to calm you down, while removing layer after layer of rags and pillows, covering your body.

He throws away tactical gloves and carefully inspects you to understand, if youre injured. His body trembles, his voice fails him and König proceeds to the only way, he can convince you, that you are safe at last: he takes you in his hands, carefully cradles your fragile body and presses kisses against tear stains on your cheeks. 

When his team finds him slowly rocking you in his hands, they step back, giving you two some privacy.

But they notice the bloody-red veil and gloves, laying on the floor as a cracked, broken and finally not needed shell.

*Meine - my *Meine Liebe - my love

#cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #könig #konig mw2 #könig cod #cod x reader #könig mw2 #konig #konig imagine #konig scenario #konig x you #konig x reader #cod x you #könig x you #könig x reader #könig fanfiction #könig modern warfare #cod mv2 #könig imagine #call of duty #mw2

[tojisbbygworl]

Before I Let Go - Yandere!Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: A grieving woman comes face to face with her thought to be deceased husband and can't find it in her to care about how wrong this was. She missed him. So much.

WARNINGS: Thoughts of Suicide, Suicide Attempt

Words: 4,994

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Angst, Emotional Smut, Desperation, Grief/Mourning, Yandere, Spying, Kidnapping, Minimal Spanish terms of endearment

author's note: hey y'all. I have another fic for you. I am so glad I finished it it's been sitting in my drafts for a minute. The yandere part of this isn't violent although there is some slight physical pain put on the reader during sex. Just a mention of choking and scratching it's not bad. It's more obsession if anything. Also, I wasn't even gonna try with the Spanish girl. The most he says is carina and hermosa and I know y'all are sick of seeing that atp. I barely even tried with the British for Hobie I'm not about to embarrass myself LMAO

I hope this makes y'all sad honestly I feel like I could have made it sadder but I'm still very happy with it. Anyway, enjoy! 🩵

AO3 version

My AO3

Masterlist

The buzzing sound of a phone call is all that can be heard in the apartment. It has been a week since the funeral, and Y/N O’Hara hasn’t said a single word. She doesn't even remember what her voice sounds like.

Miguel O'Hara was everything to her. He meant the entire world. She would do anything he asked, but he never asked for much. All he wanted was her love. She was the same with him. A perfect partnership. She felt like she was on top of the universe. And then it was taken away from her. In a fucking car crash, no less.

He was the smartest person she knew. He was the head geneticist at Alchemax after all. He wasn't a stupid driver. No. It was the other driver's fault. But what could she do about it? It was just a kid. A teenager that had just gotten their license, but hadn't taken official driving lessons; no one really drilled into them the severity of texting while driving. How could she really blame them? How could she press charges? Miguel always told her that she was too forgiving. Too understanding.

He was right. But...she also couldn't help but to think it wasn't fair. That her beautiful husband had to die from their actions, and all they had to deal with was an insane insurance increase and a fucked up car that their parents were bound to replace. She would give anything to trade consequences. Anything.

Almost two months since his death, she's been wandering around her apartment frequenting the most common places she and Miguel would cuddle in. She always had a shared blanket, one of his shirts, or a pillow that had his hair on it to squeeze and cry into. If she sprayed it with his cologne and shut her eyes really tight, she could almost imagine he really was there. Almost.

These objects could never replace him. She missed his warmth. She missed his chest pushing her head up and down from his breathing. It would rumble when he chuckled. His hands were so large that her entire back would heat up when he held her gently. He was so tall, 6'6 to be exact, he would completely engulf her whenever they embraced. She felt so safe in his arms. She doesn't feel safe anymore.

Nearly two months of hunching over on the floor of her apartment in pain. She wailed into the ground. Coughing and scratching whatever she could hold onto, because the pain was too much to bare. Oh, the pain. She wouldn't wish this kind of heartbreak on anyone or anything.

The apartment was large, courtesy of his checks. He could already afford it on his own, then, the both of them married just a few years ago and he didn't expect her to pay a dime, despite how much she insisted. Instead, she bought food and handled upkeep. If it got too expensive, then he would chip in. She would have to move out eventually, his remaining income and life insurance the only thing keeping her afloat. Just another thing that she can’t fathom.

It was 3 bed, 2 bath. One was their bedroom, the other was his office, she's been going in there a lot as well, and they always wondered what they would do with the last room. For so long, it was empty even before she moved in with him. He never knew what he could use it for. He had hoped that she would turn it into a hobby room, she loved to paint and she played the violin a little, but there was a beautiful terrace attached to the apartment that she opted for instead and she insisted the living room had the best acoustics so the room remained a mystery. Until last year, when he dropped a bomb on her.

It was an extremely average day for the both of them. They were both home from work, nothing interesting to report, and were deciding what to eat for dinner. She suggests something they could cook, and he agrees. As the night goes on, something seems off about Miguel. He's quiet and zoning out a lot. Something has to be on his mind, right?

"Babe," she calls for him snapping him out of his trance.

"Hm?"

"Everything alright?" She puts her hand on his shoulders and gives him a worried look. Miguel swallows his spit then turns towards her grabbing her hand and placing his on her waist.

"I've been thinking..." His voice is small. She starts to grow anxious as she had never seen him look so timid. He was more nervous than when he asked her to marry him.

"W-What is it?" She stutters. He kisses her knuckles.

"It's just something that I've been wanting for a while now. And if you don't, then It's completely fine. I care about your happiness above everything."

"Miguel, stop being so cryptic and tell me what's up," She half jokes.

He nervously bites his lips and looks away. Then, taking a deep breath, he looks into her eyes and says, "I want to have a kid."

She felt it was best to pretend the work-in-progress nursery didn't exist. In her mind, the room is still empty. There wasn’t a crib set up. The walls weren't in the process of being painted. They didn't have arguments about what to put on it because they didn't know the gender. In fact, gender of what? They weren't planning for a baby. The third room is as empty as she is.

The both of them were foolish, deciding to get everything set up before she got pregnant instead of winging it like everyone else. She should have winged it. Then maybe she would still have a piece of him with her.

It was so fucking hard to focus on what mattered. She was hanging on a thread that thinned out every single day. Before the funeral, she wondered what would be her breaking point? The point where she finally got up and decided to keep going.

The weather was very fitting for that day. The sun was gone, and the rain came in waves. Her tears, however, never stopped. It was a stupid decision to make it open casket. She gazed upon his resting face for the first time since he died in the hospital then turned and ran to the nearest bathroom to empty her stomach. She hadn’t even gotten to say her speech; Miguel’s mother read for her instead.

Something inside her snapped. Sometimes the pain is a dull ache in her chest, and she’s numb everywhere else. Other times it’s a sharp twang that she can feel in her back. She has to lay or sit down when that happens. Sometimes it courses through her entire upper body and she can’t even move. But this…this stabbing, twisting, and searing pain that ripples through her heart and travels to the tip of her fingers and toes…she hasn’t felt this before.

This was the breaking point, but it did the opposite. She didn’t talk for the rest of the day, her and his family begging her to stay with them. She didn’t listen.

It was nights like tonight that she felt completely alone. She knew she wasn’t, if she just picked up the phone and texted someone, then maybe she would be okay. She just needed to stop looking at the ceiling, turn to her nightstand, pick up her phone, and call her mother. But it was 1 in the morning, and Miguel looked so happy in her lock screen picture…

Her and Miguel had been up here on the top of the apartment building so many times before. They liked to dance, he would watch her play or paint, they had picnics together, it was perfect when they wanted to get out of the apartment, but still have some privacy.

The view was nice. They could see across the entirety of Nueva York. Central Park in the fall was especially amazing to gaze upon. But now it fills her with grief. As she steps on top of the edge, she decides that if this couldn’t make her feel better, then nothing could.

She’s glad she’s doing this in the middle of the night, where no one could see her and call for help. She was sure that she would traumatize a couple people when morning came, a problem that she couldn’t be bothered by. She was ready to be back in his arms. So she walked off. And closed her eyes as she plummeted through the air.

She’s scared. But excited. She only has to feel excruciating pain for a second and then never again. It’s almost over.

She hits something, or more so, something hits her. She’s still flying through the air, but it’s different now. There’s a warm body holding onto her for dear life, and she’s soaring upwards into the night sky. Opening her eyes to gaze at her savior, she sees a masked silhouette. It-it’s Spider-Man…but he looks completely different. She can barely see him, the only source of light being the moon, but she could swear that this wasn’t his mask.

They land on the rooftop again and he puts her down. She crawls away from him, embarrassed and ashamed at what she’s done. She was still alive and now she was in more pain than ever before. Wailing on the floor, she glared up at him in vitriol.

“Why did you save me?” She yelled, her voice powerful for a woman who hadn’t been verbal for a week. Spider-Man didn’t answer. She wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her. “I didn’t want to be saved.” Still, he said nothing. So she continued to cry, and she cried harder and harder until she felt a sensation on her back.

He was trying to comfort her, but when she turned he backed off, holding his hands up instead. Her lips quivered, then she threw herself into his arms. His hold on her body was snug and comforting. Her anger for him dissipates immediately as she accepts his affection. For the first time in a while, she felt safe. She didn’t want him to let go.

And he didn’t. He stayed until she fell asleep in his arms. Then, he picked her up, gazing upon her peaceful face with the light from the inter dimensional portal, then walked into it with no intention of coming back.

~

This wasn’t her room.

She sat up in the bed and took in her surroundings. These weren’t her sheets, that wasn’t her wallpaper, the blinds were different, the floor wasn’t carpeted, everything even the floor plan of the room was different. This isn’t her home.

Her heart begins to pound. Where was she? She was still in her clothes, but that’s the only comfort that she had. Immediately, she shoots out of the bed, the comforter tangling in her feet making her fall onto the floor. The large thump that her fall makes scares her. She stays on the floor, still and quiet as a mouse. There's no noise for a couple seconds. Then, the sound of someone walking.

She hyperventilates, quickly removing herself from the blanket and standing up. But she realizes that she has no where to go. There's a small closet in the room, and space under the bed, but those the only hiding spaces she can think of. And the footsteps were getting closer. What can she do, she wonders as she backs into the wall.

The door swings open. And her heart stops.

Miguel stared at his wife's variant in concern and turns on the light. The woman blinks and shields her eyes, but the bewildered look that she sported quickly comes back. "What happened?"

When he spoke, she gasped and took another step back. She smacked her hand over her mouth. Her eyes glistened with tears, her breath shuddered. "You're alright?" Miguel asked her again. She didn't answer.

For what felt like the longest time, they just stared at each other. He was afraid of approaching her thinking he may scare her away. She was in completely disbelief at what she was seeing. Miguel raised his hands and stayed near the door way. "Please, don't freak out," he began.

She let out a sob, tears escaping her eyes when she did. Placing her hand on her chest, she lifts herself from the wall. Miguel takes this as a sign to keep going.

"I know you must be confused. You're probably upset and angry. I understand." She took a step forward. "But if you would just left me explain..." Another step. Then another. And another. And she held her hand out in front of her. As she approached him, he realized how badly she was trembling, and it only got worse the closer she got. But still, she moved forward.

The speech Miguel had been practicing before she woke up died in his throat. He was speechless as he watched her courageously close the space between them. When she finally stood right in front of him, she hesitated. He could hear her soft gasps and cries. Then finally, she softly touched his chest. He looked down at her hand, then up at her face. Even though she was crying profusely, she looked upon him in wonder. He just wants to reach out and grab her, but he holds himself back.

She begins to rub his chest and torso, appalled by his presence. He looks back down at her hands. Then, they trail themselves up to his neck, stopping right under his chin. He lifts his head up. They both hold their breath for a second. Then, with a gasp from her, and a sigh from him, she finally touches his cheek. Miguel closes his eyes and leans into her palm. He lifts his arm up, and encases her hand in his, keeping it in place.

Her lips begin to move. With a tiny shaky breath, she whispers, "It's you."

Miguel's face is troubled. He has a small frown and his eyebrows were upturned. He twists his head in her palm to give it a small kiss.

Her eyes flicker all over his body. It is him...but he's different. He's taller now. His build is thicker and he feels tense. Miguel was a gym buff, but this man...this kind of definition is not built in the gym. His frown is deep, and so are his wrinkles. His eyes were more troubled than hers, and had the slightest hint of red. And his teeth...she could feel his sharp canines with her thumb.

"No," she realizes. "It's not you."

Miguel opens his eyes and stares at her. He can see the fear growing on her face, and he starts to panic. He moves his hand to her wrist to hold it gently. But he's prepared to squeeze it if she tries to run. "I'm not him. But-"

"But you look like him." She continues, her voice on the precipice of hysteria. "And you sound like him." She holds both of his cheeks and caresses his face with her thumbs. "And you feel like him..."

Miguel winces as he watches her cry louder and louder with every observation. "Cariña, please," He takes her hands off of his face and kisses her knuckles. She completely breaks down crying. Miguel reaches his arms out, and she throws herself into his chest, sobbing into his neck. "You don't have to cry anymore. I'm here now."

"But who are you?" Her voice muffled by his shoulder.

He gulps. "...I am Miguel, but-"

"But you're not my Miguel, are you?" She lifts her head up to stare at him. She looked anguished, her brain not being able to process what was going on. He doesn't answer. "Did you save me?" He nodded. "Why?"

"I had to, baby. I-"

"Where did you come from?" She pushes herself off of him, and Miguel can't find it in him to hold her there. He let's go of her, knowing that there is no where she can really run where he won't find her. "No, where have you been?"

He furrows his brows and tilts his head. "What?"

"Where the hell have you been?" She screams at him in unbridled rage. Her tears were never ending, and her glare was fierce. "I was in fucking agony when you died. I couldn't live with myself. I couldn't get over you. I didn't want to. I missed you so much." Her anger turned into desperation and she falls to her knees on the floor, weeping into her hands. Miguel looks on in desolation, his eyes filling with tears as well. He walks to her and leans down, trying to get her to stand. She flips her head up at him. "Who are you?"

"Please, let me explain." He sits on the floor with her, holds her face and leans into it. She doesn't pull away, instead, she kisses him first, her cries never ending. Her hands tangle themselves in his hair. Miguel wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her into him. He sits back and pulls her into his lap.

The kiss lasts until they run out of breath, then they pull away, panting in each others' faces. "I...am Miguel." He starts. "But not your Miguel. And you are not my Y/N."

She shakes her head and scrunches up her face. "Just listen." Her mouth closes again, and she relaxes preparing herself to take in every word he says...

...Miguel spent a lot of time watching her. His Y/N, across the multiverse. In each one, they are together. It's fate. And in every one...she dies. No matter what that universe's Miguel does, she dies. That must be fate, too. Then he found a universe where that didn't happen. He died instead. He took a chance, and when he replaced himself he was the happiest he had ever been. And then everything was destroyed. An entire universe...gone. He swore to never interfere with fate again. He whispered a soft 'sorry' to every Miguel he found after that.

He saw her, Y/N on Earth - 548. Happy as ever with her devilishly handsome husband. He felt for him. He had no idea the heartbreak he was about to experience. But, for the second time in his studies, he was the one who died. He cried, knowing that he could never do anything about it. When she became a shell of her former self, he focused all of his attention on her. Putting all of his work on Jess and Peter, he monitored her. He watched her cry, she spent all of her time off from work at home rolling around in her bed as if the emotional pain was so strong that it was physical as well. He watched her touch herself at night, whispering his name into the empty air, him joining her from where he was spying groaning her name as well, wishing his cum was dripping from her cunt instead of down his hand. He called for her, hoping that his prayers to keep her safe would reach who ever was listening. They didn't.

He knew that when she sat up like a ghost from her bed that fateful night, she was about to do something rash. He held his hand over his watch, ready to jump as soon as he felt he needed to. When she began to walk to the edge, he decided to not even risk it and hopped into the portal.

He didn't expect her to turn and scream at him the way she did. He hadn't heard her beautiful voice for some time, he missed it so much, and the first thing she did was yell at him. He was stunned. He couldn't believe she was right in front of him. He looked at his watch. No indication of a canon event. There was nothing. Which meant...she was never supposed to die.

He was impulsive, he knows that. But, it worked out in his favor. She was supposed to be alive. He had done right. And now he had a decision to make. Does he leave her here to figure everything out on her own, or does he take her with him...and let her family think she's dead…

“You were watching me?”

Miguel refuses to meet her eyes. She didn’t move, but he tightened his grip around her just in case. Her voice was wavering.

When he didn’t answer, she continued. “Why didn’t you save him?”

He looked up at her that time. Above everything else, she was melancholy. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I just couldn’t, mi amor. You don’t understand.”

With her face contorted in pain, she released a choked sob. Her mouth was hung open. If she chose to believe this imposter, than hearing that nothing could have been done about the love of her life brought her no comfort. It wasn’t fair.

She gripped Miguel’s shirt letting her head fall forward into his chest. He held her for a long time while her shoulders shook. “Please, believe me.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her cries stopped. He began to worry, but she soon lifted her head up and looked into his eyes. His flicked back and forth between hers, and the both of them dive into another passionate kiss. This time, they don’t let up from each other. It gets more intense. Miguel’s breath picks up as his hands begin to explore her back and waist. She pushes her body up against his, rubbing their chests together.

She’s the one who pulls away opting to kiss down from his cheek to his neck. “Just come to bed with me. Please?” She begs into his skin.

Miguel, in a daze, whispers “Okay.”

He lifts her up and lays her down onto his bed, kissing her sweetly as he climbed on top of her. He felt so much bliss, he never imagined he would be able to do this again.

The way she grabbed his face made him never want to physically leave her side again. This was where he wanted to stay for the rest of their lives. She kissed him with so much despair, so much need, how could he ever leave her mouth? But, the strain in his pants and the grip she had on his back get worse, and he finds a reason to pull away.

She whimpers, missing the way his tongue caressed her mouth, leaving her lips swollen and shiny. Her eyes open, silently asking him where he was going, until he reached under the hem of her shirt and lifts it off of her, exposing her beautiful breasts. She gasps when he begins to rub his hand between them, eventually grabbing one to hold and play with. Miguel grins at her while she watches him rub his thumb across her hardened nipple. Which turned into her watching him dip his head down to her sternum and leave the smallest, lightest kiss.

The restraint he had on himself as he trailed his mouth down her body was unnatural. His claws had long since come out, ripping into the bedsheets as he tried so hard not replace them with her luscious hips. She was responding unbelievably well, making him happy he didn’t listen to Lyla tell him how terrible of an idea this was.

Lyla was wrong, he told himself when he heard her soft cry as his tongue played with her nipple. She began to squirm from frustration, and he just had to push his hips in between her open legs, the heat from his dick making her rub her wet panties along his shaft. Miguel moaned with her nipple fully inside his mouth, her moaning with him from the vibration against her chest.

She’s not scared of me, he thought as he leaves her nipple and kisses down her body. His lips finally met up with her panties, opting to push them to the side instead of taking them off completely. He places a kiss on her sensitive clit, his precum staining his underwear when she yelps. Miguel takes a moment to look at her glistening pussy, then he closes his eyes when he finally licks it.

And she doesn’t hate me. Miguel looks drunk when he starts eating her out. His eyebrows are raised and he gently placed her hand on her spread thigh, caressing the soft skin. Her whines making him even more desperate to please her, he presses his tongue into her center harder. His lips are covered with her fluid. Miguel gives her thigh a nice squeeze, then a slap, then he stands up straight.

When she opens her eyes to look at him, her heart races. His eyelids were low, and he towered over body making her feel smaller than she was. His stare was filled with infatuation, wiping off his lower face with one swipe of his large hand. Without breaking eye contact, he rips his shirt off and swipes his pants and underwear down, his large member bouncing back up. Miguel spit into his palm and started jerking himself off. Then, he climbs onto the bed, aligning his hips with hers.

He drools onto her pussy, her shuddering as his spit meets her clit and runs down her lips. It does well to lube her up with Miguel rubbing his tip in between her folds. “Ngh…fuck,” he mutters, the feeling of her wet cunt on his sensitive head giving him a feeling of euphoria.

She grew impatient, while Miguel was trying to take his time and savor her, she was ready to feel him split her apart. This was something she’s been dreaming about since she lost him. She waited for the day his naked body would engulf hers, his face on her cheek whispering filthy insults and sweet praises into her ear. As she remembers how sex used to be with her love, she starts to tear up.

“Miguel,” she whined making him look at her worriedly. When his eyes open, the red she noticed before is even more prominent. His mouth was opened slightly so she could barely see his fangs. How he could look so similar yet so different from her Miguel, she doesn’t know.

“Yes?” He asks her.

“Please, I can’t wait any longer. I want…” She moves her hips on him again. Miguel looks down at their hips and holds hers still.

He doesn’t respond, just pushes his length into her slowly. He grunts as he sheathes himself inside her warmth, reveling in her cries. “Shit, baby.” She’s tight and squeezing him so nicely, he can’t stop until he's inside of her fully.

She’s breathing heavily with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. Her back is arched lifting her naked chest into the air. “Look at me,” Miguel commands. She lifts her head up giving him what he wanted. Her eyes are filled with tears. It hurts, but feels so good. She missed him so much, and now they were one again.

Miguel whimpers at her beautiful face. “Hermosa,” he reaches out to her cheek to hold it. “Don’t cry.”

“But I love you,” she tells him.

He gasps. His hand lifts from her face. Freezing, he stares into her eyes in disbelief. “W-What?”

She takes his hand and brings it to her lips, leaving a gentle smooch. Her eyes close and the tears fall. “I love you, Miguel.”

His eyesight gets blurry as well, and soon Miguel is crying profusely. “Oh, baby,” he leans over her and pulls his hips backwards. Then he slams himself back down, making her yelp. She grabs his face and kisses him. “I love you too.”

As Miguel fucks her slowly, neither of them can find it in them to stay quiet. Miguel has to tell her how terribly in love with her he is. She has to let him know how much she missed him. He leans into her neck and whispers how he missed her too, and to stop crying because he’s here now. Even though, he can’t stop crying either.

She’s so happy to hear that he will never leave her side. She decides to believe him, accepting happiness instead of reality. She ignores his red eyes, his sharp fangs that press against her neck, as if he can barely hold himself back from biting her. She ignores how different the rumbling in his chest is from her Miguel. It’s not soft or sweet nor does it make her content. This one is predatory and dangerous, it makes her nervous.

She dismisses the way he grabs her neck; tight, leaving her with no air, whereas her Miguel knew that she didn’t like it rough. Honestly, neither did he. This Miguel went faster and harder. He grunted into her ear. But, she doesn't care.

She completely ignores how different this Miguel was. Her wishes were answered. She got him back. It doesn’t matter that his hold on her hip was so strong that he’s scratching her. That he didn’t stop or slow down when she came making her overstimulated. She let him cum inside her soon after, knowing that she wasn’t on anything.

“I miss you so fucking much,” she wailed when he slipped his dick out of her, his cum following suit and staining the bed beneath her.

Instead of getting a warm towel, Miguel laid down next to her and pulled her into his arms silencing her cries. “I told you baby, I’m right here.” But she doesn’t correct herself. She doesn’t calm down. She grips him for dear life and Miguel grows nervous.

Lyla was wrong…right?

“You know she will never love you the way she loved him. It will never be the same. Miguel...are you listening?”

“Lyla…shut down.”

ending a/n: Heyyyyy, did y'all like it? This will definitely not be my only Miguel fic but rn I don't really have any ideas for him. My brain is filled with thoughts of Hobie, and I need to stop neglecting my baby daddy Toji, lmao. So I'll be working on a real quick Hobie imagine and my AO3 stories as well for now. Unless I think of something else. I've been thinking about requests but I will fuck around and make a whole story from it cuz idk how to stop writing so damn much. Y'all I rly dk if I want to make another part to JFTN I rly like how it ended and I can't rly think about how I would continue it. Y'all might just have to deal idk girl. I love ya though! Anyway, I'll see y'all in the next story!🩵

AO3 version

My AO3

Masterlist

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 smut #yandere #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader

[general-cyno]

since I've rambled quite a bit on zoro's side of things in some of my zolu posts, I wanted to give luffy a try too! though perhaps overall subtler than zoro's grand gestures throughout the manga, there's no doubt to me that luffy cares for him just as much and his relationship with zoro is one of the most important he has (without intending to downplay others btw), both as individuals and crew, so let's goooo.

(warning: it's going to be long. sorry. also spoilers for the manga, as usual.)

albeit luffy and zoro's journey as a crew starts in the marine base where they met, I've mentioned here before that their childhood experiences, the way they sort of parallel each other's, also play a big role in their personalities and understanding of one another later on. the specifics are different, sure, but both were acquainted with struggle since they were young. zoro had already lost his parents by the time he was 8 and dragon left a baby luffy in garp's care, which... involved some questionable (dangerous) caretaking choices in order to make luffy "stronger". eventually, zoro would become a student in the isshin dojo, interact with koushiro and kozaburo, and start his rivalry/friendship with kuina just like luffy would later meet folks like makino, shanks and his crew whom he'd be inspired by, then dadan, ace and sabo, who'd become his family.

although we don't know yet what luffy's particular dream is, it's one he's had since young and that he mentioned to his brothers. similarly, as a kid, zoro wanted to become the world's greatest swordsman too, which he told kuina about and promised to strive for along with her. still, it's not until they lose sabo and kuina respectively that their dreams are accompanied by the necessity to become stronger for other people's sake. this is a specific sort of grief they share and are motivated by. and in luffy's case, his vow to become stronger is so he can prevent the further loss of those he loves.

(I'll get back to this, because it's important!)

fastforward to years later and we have a luffy that's started his journey to become the pirate king and achieve his dream. the insane thing about zoro's recruitment is that it only took hearing about the guy's name and fearsome reputation to have luffy pester koby about meeting him. I've also mentioned here that "fate" seems to be a recurring theme in OP especially in the latest arcs, and especially where luffy and zoro are concerned, seeing as they not only have a bunch of parallels with each other but also with important figures/characters in OP, some of who share or have shared a close relationship among themselves as well - namely, roger and rayleigh.

heck, luffy and zoro's lives are so intertwined you can even see lil zoro training during the ASL flashback chapters, when dragon mentions the dojo providing the revolutionaries with some food (ch 589). it's kinda incredible tbh. even so, when it comes to zoro... he was first and foremost a choice. regardless of how fate has come into play in the story, it was luffy's decision to actively seek him out and rope him into joining his crew, one he made after realizing zoro wasn't just a good guy but that he also had a cool, crazy dream and a determination to make it come true that was similar to luffy's own.

back then, luffy was already punching others (helmeppo) and getting angry on zoro's behalf, taking bullets for him and leaving himself wide open for zoro to protect during their confrontation with morgan. this is pretty much the beginning of his unwavering trust in zoro's strength and his willingness to step in when luffy needs someone to watch over him in turn. this is what their relationship is based on within? hours? of meeting and it's the foundation of the straw hat crew.

he's praising zoro before he's actually taken morgan down and luffy doesn't even look back to check. the amount of trust luffy's placing on zoro off the bat is bonkers and it's literally just the start.

from shells town onwards - well, in spite of how luffy's considered an anchor by shanks in the first chapters of OP because of his inability to swim, I believe the anchor metaphor is actually kinda perfect to describe zoro and his relationship with luffy, more so from luffy's side, even if he doesn't necessarily say this stuff on the pages.

I may be going on a slightly poetic tangent but it works imo. anchor symbolism is pretty popular and you can find all sorts of articles about it online. I read a few out of curiosity and y'know, the anchor as a nautical symbol has supposedly been regarded as one rooted in feelings such as those of stability and safety. you can probably tell where I'm going with this.

in terms of stability, think of OP's arcs and how many of them zoro's been in alongside luffy. they don't always fight side by side strictly speaking, but zoro is a constant - he's usually there to fight the second strongest threat and sometimes protect or lead the others when luffy's otherwise occupied, or he handles things while luffy gets there/recuperates enough to battle again. for the most part, zoro's also there in a bunch of the crewmate-rescuing arcs and he's even the one to directly liberate brook's shadow in thriller bark. there's only two major instances in which luffy and zoro (+ the crew) get separated for a considerable amount of time, one of them unwillingly and the other by choice: sabaody and zou/whole cake island. ig you could count baratie/arlong park too, but I don't think as much time passed in between one and the other compared to zou/WCI and the reunion in wano.

something that really got me even though it was tinted by a comedic feel, is the fact that bon-chan turned into zoro out of all straw hats back at impel down when luffy was trying to rescue ace and how happy he was at the prospect of having zoro there to aid him. no matter how the adaptation differs from the manga, I couldn't help but think of opla luffy's I need you speech too. would he have been as happy to see any other members of the crew? likely so! still, zoro's definitely someone luffy particularly looks forward to having by his side when things get tough.

irl, anchors are generally used to secure a vessel and prevent it from drifting. sounds a little familiar, I'd say.

it's not as though zoro's the only character in OP who's "guided" luffy but there are moments when he does ground his captain in a manner other characters can't at the time, and my favorite part of it is how seriously luffy takes zoro's words/advice whenever it happens. water 7 and enies lobby are perhaps the best examples of this, as it comes up in the context of luffy's fight with usopp and robin's supposed betrayal.

this is a really, really good moment imo. once luffy slows down to consider what zoro's saying, you can see he understands the importance of it. plus, luffy knows zoro's not someone who'd just leave a friend behind (he's fought to bring some of them back at this point, with luffy and the rest of the crew) and if anything, his "so the fact that he left our crew means nothing to you?!" outburst proves he's as upset as all of them about usopp's choice.

that said, you can tell how much luffy values and respect zoro's imput simply by the way he cries his soul out when usopp finally apologizes and asks to come back. luffy wears his heart on his sleeve and adores his friends, doesn't want to lose them ever, so reining all those feelings in to stay true to his position as the captain that zoro has placed his faith and loyalty in? amazing. and consider it from another angle: if he had ignored zoro, luffy would've lost him too. he certainly doesn't want that either or this would've gone differently.

this kinda thing happens also post timeskip, with zoro reminding luffy to get his shit together at punk hazard, bringing up the fact that they can't just ignore the threat kaido poses in zou to have the entire crew going after sanji, or when they're facing kaido and big mom in wano. zoro's someone luffy counts on to keep him steady and afloat, and this part of their relationship is something that was portrayed (again) nicely in the live action. in ep 6, it's zoro who manages to reassure luffy of his position as the captain and that he's done nothing wrong, that their crew isn't falling apart, because if luffy needs him then zoro vows to stand by his side til the very end. (they're insane).

in addition, their core similarities, understanding of each other and luffy's (almost unbelievable) faith/trust in zoro is what allows him to depend on zoro, specifically, when it comes to things like saving smoker in alabasta, not fighting back against bellamy's crew on jaya, or just mentioning the spilled oshiruko as explanation enough for zoro to get why luffy's angry during the onigashima raid, to name a few of examples off the top of my head.

as for the safety aspect of the anchor symbolism... that one speaks for itself I think. I feel like I must mention once more that zoro's not the only character or even the only straw hat to help or protect luffy, but he's fairly insistent and consistent in this aspect compared to others. compiling all the moments in which zoro's stepped in to protect luffy, worried about his well-being or signaled the rest when luffy's truly in danger/has reached his limits would probably break this site's image upload limit lol.

that said, luffy's the same back at zoro just in a bit of a less common manner or in a different way rather - mostly because of his belief in zoro's strength and the lengths he'd go to keep people safe, which includes allies and more so their friends. one could argue depositing that kind of faith in zoro can have its drawbacks (sabaody) or isn't completely fair (like when he goes all, "with you here, how could this happen?!" in skypiea) BUT. my opinion is that trusting zoro any less than that would likely hurt his pride more. so when luffy says stuff like this,

it's not about having unrealistic expectations wrt zoro but more about fully trusting in the man who tearfully swore to him that he'd become the greatest swordsman and never lose again. the one who trusts luffy just as much in turn, called him captain and pirate king first. luffy's seen zoro pull through some impossible situations, so it'd be more unfair to doubt him this way if you ask me.

this is also why I mentioned luffy's childhood vow. if you ever wonder "how important is zoro to luffy?" compare this,

to this:

luffy's past is revealed hundreds of chapters after skypiea. yet in hindsight, it adds so many layers to his relationship with zoro. for someone like luffy, who promised to become strong so that the people he loves wouldn't have to leave him, who would even die as long as it means he won't lose a member of his crew, the fact that he can relax this much when he gets separated from his friends because zoro's with them is... a lot, man. when you remember luffy's lost people close to him or had them leave him (for very understandable reasons, often out of everyone's control), zoro being one of the most stable presences in his life since they met - someone who will help him fight to get their friends back or stay behind to watch over them when they can't all go together, that for zoro to leave he'd have to be pried by force from his side unless they both agree to it for the sake of their journey and crewmates, is likely to be a very comforting fact to luffy. luffy, who's afraid of/hates being alone more than getting hurt.

he doesn't voice it out but allowing zoro to protect him and the people they both care for is giant sign of love and unbeatable trust, where luffy's concerned. although he doesn't know about it, zoro's sacrifice in thriller bark demonstrated why luffy does this without hesitation too. however, it's worth noting that luffy does worry for zoro's own safety whenever he's there to actually witness him being in danger and he knows zoro well enough to tell when said danger is real. it happens during the mihawk duel, when kizaru almost kills zoro in sabaody then as kuma sends him away, for example. he gets angry, desperate and teary in all of these instances. luffy cares so much about him.

lastly yet just as relevant... is that luffy likes zoro, beyond metaphors and all zoro might represent/stand for in the crew. luffy thinks he's cool, that he'll certainly achieve his dream, enjoys teasing and bullying him harmlessly, offered to share his food with him to convince zoro into accompanying them in thriller bark, tried to give an injured zoro an entire barrel of alcohol because luffy knows he loves booze and thought it'd make him feel better, and is generally someone luffy's happy to be with.

I bring up the wano hug a lot but honestly it doesn't get clearer than this. I've seen people try to downplay this moment but hey, context. people that luffy's hugged this way include 1) sabo, the brother luffy believed had been dead for years, 2) hancock who helped him try and rescue ace and 3) jimbei who's helped luffy during some of the most dire moments he's gone through, like impel down, marineford and WCI. for luffy to straight up hug zoro with just as much happiness, eagerness and enthusiasm in a relatively danger-free situation... he likes zoro, there's no better way to put it.

it's not that they can't butt heads sometimes either, but never seriously enough to damage their relationship. as a more recent example, luffy's shown he can put his stubbornness and recklessness aside when zoro's right even if he doesn't like it (ch 1060, about vivi's current situation). and as long as he's there, luffy won't let people interfere in zoro's fights, much less when it involves zoro's dream - like when he held johnny and yosaku back from stepping into zoro's duel with mihawk, even though luffy himself was worried about zoro.

so yeah, zoro might get to be crazier about luffy more often and explicitly but imo, it's an entirely reciprocal thing.

if you got this far, thanks so much for reading!

#zolu #tp #long post #like. real long #I love these two so much!!!! #and i don't think their relationship is as one sided as some seem to believe it is. luffy's just as crazy abt zoro #regardless of how you prefer to view the nature of their relationship #this is for layne also🙏🏼hope it's a worthwhile read! #jay reads op

[cursedkeyboard]

Funnily enough, I've never been too big of a Jason Todd fan. Not because I don't like him, he's a great character, but because DC fails over and over again to give him justice and treat him right.

The number of times alone this boy has been beaten by his adoptive father, betrayed, and forgotten are far too many, far too much.

And the constant portrayal of Jason as this volatile, violent, mindless man is tiresome, lazy in all senses of the word and overdone. I understand that Jason was unstable after he left the pit, I mean, who wouldn't? The trauma of his death alone could've sent anyone crazy, but then to experience everything else afterwards, including having to come to terms that Bruce not only did not kill his murder but also replaced him, leaving Jason to grieve what was once his and what he should've gotten, of course he'd be less than okay.

Again, I'm not the biggest Jason Todd fan but I do wish more people would see just how much good Jason has in his heart, how kind and gentle he can be once his walls are down, when he's no longer constantly analyzing your actions and wondering why would you bother talking to him, getting closer to him.

In my opinion, a man who is so gentle with children, who constantly gives second, third, and fourth chances to people who don't deserve it, who despite it all still wants to make a change and protect the city that failed him, couldn't possibly be anything but the most caring partner. Not just partner, no, also brother and friend.

We all know what he did to Tim and Damian, there are reasons, such as his mental instability at the time and rage, and though those are not excuses, I believe Jason would still drop everything to go save his family. He might complain, he might brood, but family is something important to him even when just looking at them hurts him. He lost his loving mother, stepmother, far too early and it's not hard to imagine that even with all the pain and grief inside his torn heart, the little boy inside Jason still craves the warmth of a family.

Just look at the way he treats his friends, at the way he helps them through situations no one else would, how caring and attentive he is. Jason is gentle, sure, he is rough and mean and he's got blood on his hands, but Jason is made of love.

Jason was made to be loved.

So I think, whether platonic or romantically, Jason would treat you so well. He'd scold you for not wearing warm clothes during winter, "We're in Gotham, you fucking moron, you wanna freeze to death?", all while wrapping you with his jacket or scarf. He'd make sure you're eating at least something every day, and if not, he would immediately put you under his arm, maybe over his shoulder, and take you to the nearest food chain he could find, "I don't want to hear you complaining about headaches when all you had today was a cup of coffee and gum.".

Lord, he'd be torn between freaking out and being extremely annoyed that you got hurt, be it at work, a fight, or just out of clumsiness. But no matter what, his hands would always be so, so gentle when touching you. The tip of his fingers brushing under the injury, as light as a breeze, his other hand holding the back of your neck, or your bicep, perhaps even your hand just to make sure you're there, with him.

Jason would both hush you gently, "I know, sweetheart, we're almost done.", and also tease because he's a little shit at heart, "If you had a little more awareness than a ten year old this wouldn't have happened, idiot."

And physical touches? Oh, love, Jason is a sucker for intimacy.

I know for a fact he wouldn't be comfortable for a long time with anyone in his personal space due to the torture he went through. The trauma would make his skin crawl any time someone got too close or brushed past him, he'd hate it so much because it makes him weak but also because he can't let anyone try to hug him without feeling sick to his stomach.

And with you it's no different. It would take a long time, a lot of trust being built up, conflict and confessions, maybe he'd even open up to you with his head on your lap as you brushed his hair softly, a big, big step for him after years of not letting anyone close. He'd tell you about the Joker, about having hope in Bruce, about his biological mother. And he'd feel vulnerable like a child when you wipe his tears gently without a word.

Once he starts craving your touch, though, regardless if you two have a platonic or romantic relationship, Jason is putty in your hands. Forehead kisses when you part ways, cuddling on the couch while he reads and you're on your phone, thighs touching when sitting close, even a little bit of hand holding when he's stressed and needs to play with your fingers.

He's like a big cat that's constantly making his way onto your chest, stealing your breath and making biscuits on your skin, making sure you're giving him sufficient pats every day.

It's a little part of him that he's barely able to properly allow space for. There's still so much hurt in Jason, so much confusion and desperation, hatred and upset, that he'd probably still close off sometimes, try acting tough so you'd see how fucked up he is, how he's not truly worth of your love.

And yet.

And yet all it'd take for him to go soft and pliant in your hands would be a single touch, cupping his cheeks, brushing his skin softly with your thumbs, right under his pretty emerald eyes, making sure his gaze is on you and only you. Just like that, he'd slump his shoulders and bring you into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief and squeezing you close, your heartbeats synching.

He wouldn't remember when he started feeling safest in your arms but it'd feel like it was since forever. Like there was no one else but you.

Jason was made to be loved, though he is a little broken and a little tainted, lost like a child and hateful like a sinner, your love might just be his salvation, something he's greedy for, selfish for, even when he's so hesitant of somehow hurting you.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #red hood x reader #gender neutral reader #my ode to jason todd because my best friend is obsessed with him

[queerprayers]

any tips/advice for someone who is not catholic who wants to participate in lent? like how to choose what to give up etc?

Cheers to not letting Catholics have a monopoly on Lent, beloved! Last year I answered a similar ask that might be helpful. Here are the thoughts I have right now!

[CW: discussion of eating/fasting in italics] My most important note/disclaimer: Fasting is not for everyone. It is a beautiful tradition (for Catholics and non-Catholics) that can change people's lives, but if it's going to be a part of your practice, do it on purpose, knowing yourself. It inherently changes your relationship with food--and for people who have always had enough to eat, who have never struggled with disordered eating, who have never been seriously ill, there can be a solidarity and new perspective in fasting, in realizing how sensory experiences and comfort and mortality go together, how privileged you are to have the choice to go hungry. But for those who have struggled with food insecurity, or have lived through/live with eating disorders/disability/illness, or any other experience/relationship with food/the body that changes your perspective, fasting will often be a re-traumatizing or triggering practice that doesn't change your perspective so much as reinforce unhealthy ones. Something I think about: why fast if you cannot feast? Lenten fasting brings us to Easter feasting--if that's not accessible to you, if that wouldn't be joyful or affordable or healthy, fasting probably isn't either. Okay, all that said:

There is so much diversity in what a Lenten practice can look like, and I can't tell you what will be most meaningful for you, but I'll give you some ideas and some questions that have been helpful for me to ask myself! Lent existed way before the Catholic/Protestant divide, and exists among so many diverse communities, and there is a path here for you if you want one.

"Giving up something" is the most common language used for Lent--fasting technically refers to anything abstained from--and generally that's really useful! Jesus's forty days in the wilderness was time that he had nothing but God, and during Lent we can get closer to that experience. I give things up not as punishment or a test of self-control (those ideas trigger unhealthy behavior patterns for me), but as a letting go of something that is in my life but doesn't need to be, and may deserve reconsidering. Sometimes it's a bad habit, but sometimes it's just a conscious allowing of my life to grow simultaneously smaller and bigger. There is space for grief during Lent, but we're not just making ourselves feel bad--I've never found forced emotions to be spiritually helpful. Emotions come and go--we're doing this on purpose, and whatever we feel about it, we make space for that.

Ideas of things to give up:

eating out/getting coffee/buying drinks/little treats

impulse buying/nonessentials (you could pick a category, like clothes, or go all out)

alcohol/drugs/smoking (if this would be starting a recovery journey, I am not the person to ask for advice on that but please do seek help)

social media (you could choose one app to give up, or set time limits--it doesn't have to be all or nothing)

scrolling-on-your-phone time before bed/another time when you get sucked in

another form of casual entertainment (like TV/video games--again, you can limit this rather than cutting it out)

sexual activity (I talked about this here)

makeup/other appearance-related thing (I must confess I have considered doing this and always chickened out. I know that's because it would force me to rethink too many things, which is a probably a sign I should do it one of these years.)

a social habit, like gossiping or getting into arguments online

overscheduling/not having rest days (this is often unavoidable, but rest is necessary and holy, and perhaps this is the season for sacrifice in honor of rest)

single-use plastics/another environmental choice

Note: I don't think any of these things are inherently bad things. This is a list of things we can change/investigate our relationship with or have a season without them as a distraction, not things I think we shouldn't be doing or we should feel bad about.

One of the most important things I've realized is that so often I have given something up and not done anything about it. Like I didn't watch TV for forty days and was mad about it and then Lent was over and I watched TV again. Perhaps this strengthened my self-discipline, or made my life better in a way known only to God, but ultimately nothing happened. I didn't consciously do anything else, I didn't learn anything.

Now, when I give up something, I purposely do something with whatever space it leaves. If I'm not watching TV, what am I going to do when I would usually watch TV? Am I gonna pray? go to bed earlier? call my grandmother? Am I gonna cancel my Netflix subscription for a couple months and donate that saved money? Or maybe I'm gonna give up watching mindless TV, and find stories that resonate and make me think. Don't give things up to check a box, but to reexamine your relationship with them, make everyday things sacred, fill the space/time/money/energy you now have with God, and ultimately to set this time apart.

The other way of looking at Lent practices is things you can add. Often, as I mentioned, they go together--you can pair up something you're no longer buying with somewhere to donate to, or give up an activity and replace it with a new one. I always caution against Lent-as-self-improvement--obviously I can support improving our habits, but I've seen too many people use Lent to restart their new year's workout plans, and while exercise can be a way to care for ourselves, if new year's and Lent are treated the exact same way, what's different about this season? What makes this Lent?

One of the questions I've been asking myself recently is: What are you gonna do about it? When I'm investigating a belief, or learning something new, or reframing an old thought process, I ask myself: What am I gonna do about it? Lent is a path to Holy Week--something I and many others commemorate as the week when God was put on trial and literally killed. I genuinely believe God died and was resurrected--how does this affect my life? Believing something like that and not letting it change you is, to me, inauthentic. When I'm considering a belief, I think, if this were true, how would it change me? Would it lead me to Love? Lent (and Christianity itself) over and over asks us to do something about what we say we believe. Faith without works is dead--and faith is a work, something I do.

It's almost Lent, which is preparation for the Resurrection, which fundamentally changes our understanding of what it means to be alive--so what are you gonna do about it? Not because doing something will make God love you more or make you a "better person," or even because you'll succeed or change your life, but because how can we not? We are of course welcome at Easter having done nothing, but I can't imagine knowing what's coming and not letting it change me.

Ideas of things to add to our lives:

start a prayer/Bible routine--I can now wholeheartedly recommend (as a Protestant who connects with ancient traditions but not always Catholicism) Phyllis Tickle's Divine Hours books! For Bible study, I like The Bible Project's videos.

read a book--it can be anything that connects you with God! (I had a lovely experience with Lenten Lord of the Rings last year, and this year I'm properly going through the Quran)

pick a subject to research (theological or anything else)

start to attend worship services or commit to attending more--this could include going to several different places if you don't currently belong to a church

research places to volunteer for or donate to

do something politically active, like calling your representatives, researching the next local election, or attending a protest

donate to the next [insert number here] posts you see online requesting mutual aid

start a physical practice like taking a walk or stretching

write a letter or call someone regularly, especially with people you've been wanting to connect with more or have unresolved conflict with

start/commit to more regular therapy/other health treatment

ask for help--maybe you're the one who needs mutual aid, or reaching out to, or support cleaning your house or with your kids. there is no shame in this.

These are all obviously things we can be doing year round, and certainly we can use Lent as a season to start something we want to keep with us! I'd also encourage us to have something that's only present during Lent, or something that we do more or in a different way.

You asked how to choose, and I don't have a one sentence answer to that (...obviously), but perhaps in these days before Lent you can look at your routine/habits, the places where God is present, the things you do to distract yourself from life (not a crime--just something to be mindful of), and you can see where Lent might be able to come in and change you. The thing that's nagging at you that you know might be helpful, the thing you're not in control of and just do, the time you take up or the money you spend that might not be bad but also doesn't lead you anywhere. We can't expect every aspect of our lives to be purposeful and present, or to be continuously improving ourselves (in fact, that sounds terribly stressful and unsustainable)--but we can look around us. We can have a season that looks different because everyone I've ever known has a brain that craves ritual in some way--and either we do it on purpose, or we fall into it. Do something (or don't do something) a little more on purpose this season.

Another think to think about is what Sundays will look like for you--the "forty days" don't count them. There's no fasting on Sundays--my mom says every Sunday is a little Easter. "Sundays in Lent" is such an interesting concept because it's very much Lent, but the rhythm of our weeks breaks through. When I give up soda, I'll have one as a celebration on Sundays, but a prayer/reading practice I'll continue through. It's up to you and depends on what your rhythm/habits ask of you.

Ultimately, let God interrupt you. Let Them seep in the cracks of everything you do and let go of. To be loved is to be changed. Even the smallest thing--like wearing a cross necklace every day--can cause our lives to be filled with noticing God's presence. I keep saying to do this on purpose, but know that I find Them much more often by accident.

And an obligatory note: starting Lent late, stopping your practice halfway through, not meeting a goal, whatever comes up--Easter still comes for you. Lent is for paying attention, for making space, not for perfection.

I also want to add that while a lot of Lenten practices (including most I've mentioned here) tend to be personal, ultimately what is asked of us is interpersonal. We make space in our life and be more present in the name of Love--which we cannot do alone. If a practice is not specifically about other people (like volunteering/donating), ask yourself how it will serve the ways you love others? This isn't a trick question, just something to think about. Personally, my study of the Quran this season will connect me with my Muslim siblings through time and enable me to more fully love the Muslims around me, and my rhythm of the divine hours will connect me with the wider Christian community and center me as I go about my day, allowing me to be more present in my relationships.

Easter comes whether we're ready or not--and I don't think we can be ready. But we can look at the small parts of ourselves, set this time apart, see what we can change our relationship with, and perhaps when Easter comes, we will every year have come that much closer to understanding what it means to live out the resurrection by honoring the death that came first.

Wishing you a blessed almost-Lent, and praying for you and your practice (as well as all those reading this)!

<3 Johanna

#asks

[adeadcreator]

Jotaro Kujo with a s/o who likes to eat with Kakyoin more than him

Despite being head over heels for the one and only Jotaro Kujo, he still intimidated you from time to time. Whether it be from his straightforward responses or his mysterious silence, you learned not to hold it against you. Kakyoin, however, was the polar opposite of your beloved, much more talkative and more open with random discussions and that created a link between you two when it came to meals, resulting in you both chatting away as if the others weren’t there.

“No you definitely have to play Pac-Man thoroughly before judging it” you said as you picked up a pickled radish slice “It’s a simple game, you just get the pellets and move onto the next level” you gawked at the red-haired boy before scoffing at him “As if!? it has lore behind it, It’s just not that simple…” the boy shook his head in disbelief as you began silently questioning yourself.

“Hey chatterboxes ease up, we’re here for a quick time not one that’ll give me a splitting headache” the older Jojo said as he changed his attention to his grandson, who was silently eating his food next to his two talkative companions “You know I’m I the only one seeing that (Y/n), spending more time with Kakyoin rather than Jotaro?” Polnareff asked catching the attention of the others.

“I supposed you are right about that Polnareff” Advol said as Joseph began eyeing the teens across from him “Stop that old man.” his grandson said as he went back to eating his food “Yeah last thing we need is for you to pop a blood vessel, Mr. Joestar!” You said as placed pieces of meat onto Jotaro’s plate “Then answer the question (Y/n)!” Polnareff said trying to seem serious.

“No offense Jojo” you said to your beloved boyfriend before facing back at the three older men “But Kakyoin is a bit more open when it comes to conversation, That doesn’t mean I don’t care for Jojo!” you said as joseph looked over to his grandson only to get a ‘Good grief’ and a hat tilt “Don’t you worry Mr. Joestar, we talk plenty! I just get nervous is all…”

From what Jotaro heard he knew exactly what you meant, it was something he witnessed a lot when it come to interacting with you. You had a tendency to start rambling and then end up backing out of the last sentence for fear of boring him, it didn’t help how he didn’t know exactly to ensure you that he was fine with your rambling but for now as long as you have another person you can talk to then…

“I don’t mind it.”

#jjba x reader #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jotaro x reader #jjba imagines #kakyoin #jojo x reader #jojo part 3 #stardust crusaders #joseph joestar #mohammed avdol #jjba polnareff #x reader #jjba jotaro

[acersthings]

Heartless

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Woman Reader

Summary: An ex comes running back in need of help. But, old memories still haunt you.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, Miguel is a whole warning himself, death, grief, kinda short (may be a part two??)

Three years ago, you would've said yes to anything he asked you. Three years ago, you would've done anything for him. Three years ago, you would've disrupted any canon event just to be with him.

But now, you could give two flying fucks.

"All I am asking is for you to stop and think about what this could do and how it can affect us," Miguel pleaded, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

It had been a quiet night on your Earth, allowing you to swing around the city with no danger or worry. One night to yourself. That was until Miguel's cat claws ripped a breach right behind you.

"I stopped thinking about us a long time ago, Miguel," you scoffed, perching on a water tower that overviewed the whole city. "I can't help you."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

Miguel wasn't one to give up but right now, he was feeling hopeless. He knew arguing with you was not a fun path to take.

"Y/n, if not for me, do it for Peter."

You flinched hearing the name you swore to never bring up again. Especially out of his mouth. Your body grew tense at the sound of those two syllables. You've learned that one word could do so much damage to a person.

You jumped off the tower and stood face to face with Miguel. Well, more of face-to-chest. You watched as he straightened his back and followed your every step with his half-lidded stare.

"Don't ever say his name again, asshole. Now, I don't know if the message isn't getting through that thick head of yours, but I am not helping you. Go find another Spider," you pointed at him. You hadn't been this close to him since that night. You didn't like it.

"You are the only one I want, Y/n. Your powers and strength are exactly what I need to stop this anomaly. Whether you like it or not, you are my only hope," he placed his hands on his waist, shaking his head in despair.

"Yeah, well guess what, Miguel?" You flicked out your wrist to get ready to swing away to the nearest building. He interrupted you by applying a good amount of pressure to your wrist, but not enough to leave bruising.

He grasped your wrist and pulled you closer to him. So close that you could sense his heart beating twice the normal pace.

"You're the only one I need."

His talon trailed up to the edge of your mask, lifting it up ever so slightly. Your breath hitched as felt his talon curve up your neck. As much as you hated to admit it, you missed his touch. His touch made you become the person you were years ago. It gave you hope.

You stopped him before he could take off the mask, denying the feelings, and used your watch to open a breach behind him.

"Leave, Miguel. That's your last warning."

Miguel dropped his head in defeat and began walking towards the breach. Before he left, he turned his head ever so slightly.

"I know you blame me for what happened to Peter. But, please try to look past that and remember that I know what happens when you try to mess with fate. I didn't want that happening to you. I'm sorry, Y/n."

He disappeared and left you with the everlasting memory you've always wanted to burn.

Three Years Ago, Earth Y/E/N, Christmas Eve

You always loved Christmas time. The food, the weather, the holiday, the movies, the people. This Christmas was spent swinging around the city with your boyfriend, Miguel, and your brother, Peter Parker.

The three of you ended up on the rooftop of your old apartment, laughing at old stories of you and your brother as kids.

"I love this time with you guys," Peter confessed, smiling at his best friends.

"Don't get too emotional on us now, we still have to watch 'It's A Wonderful Life' and we all know you start crying like a baby," you patted his shoulder and laughed.

"That is not true! Miguel, back me up here," Peter laughed, looking over at a dissociated Miguel.

"Miguel? Love?" You rested a hand on his arm as he focused back on reality.

"Oh, yeah, cariño. Mhm."

You knew something was up. He was never like this, only when thinking about Gabriella. You and Peter shared a knowing look and shrugged, knowing not to bother Miguel when he was in deep thought.

The three of you sat on the roof in comfortable silence until a boom was heard down the street.

"Time to do our jobs," Peter sighed, pulling down his mask.

You followed, pulling down your mask. Peter took off while you were stopped by a harsh grip on your waist.

"Miguel? We have to go, Peter already left." You tried shaking out of his grip on your waist, but you had no luck. His talons were digging dip into your sides.

"I think Peter has this one covered," his tone was sad. Depressed, even.

"Okay, what is the matter? You've been in a different world ever since I woke up this morning. Can we please go help Peter and then we can talk?" You begged, placing a comforting hand on Miguel's cheek.

"No, Y/n, please. You need to listen to me."

"No, Miguel. You listen to me. We go help Peter and then we can talk about whatever is on your mind. I promise," you planted a kiss on his pouted lips.

Miguel's pleading eyes finally fell as he nodded slowly. "Okay."

You swung off not realizing Miguel stayed where he stood. Miguel murmured silent Spanish curses as he looked down at his watch.

CANON EVENT DETECTED

CANON EVENT APPROACHING

"Mac! My man, how has the Raft been treating you?" You greeted, landing next to Peter at the sight of the bombing. Peter smiled at you as he taught you most of his one-liners. He was proud to be your brother.

The green arachnid-suited man grinned evilly as he turned around and saw you two.

"Ah, the Spiders who finally got caught in their own webs."

As if on cue, Peter and your's spider sense started going off like no other. It wasn't until you heard a mechanical laugh in the distance. Peter jumped out of the way and so did you.

The Goblin flew past you, making sure to make his dramatic entrance.

"Wow, now this is a Christmas dinner," Peter remarked, "The Goblin and the Scorpion, is there a return receipt for this gift?"

Peter nudged you with his shoulder and whispered, "Like always, Spider-Sis?"

You smiled under your mask, "Like always."

The two of you shared a look and went after the according enemy. Goblin vs Peter. You vs Scorpion.

"Come on, Mac. Had to ruin Christmas for me?" You webbed his poisoned tail to the back of his suit, making him go around in circles.

"Oh trust me," he grabbed one of the webs and pulled you close, "it is about to get a lot worse."

You shook off his threat and began fighting him like you always did. Avoid his poison and then you'll be good.

You had finally knocked him and webbed him up until you realized Peter was still fighting the Goblin. You ran over and webbed onto the Goblin's back, distracting him from Peter. You began throwing all your might into your punches.

The Goblin laughed and shoved you off, pinning your body behind debris that was horribly heavy.

"You are going to want to watch this," the Goblin sneered at you and went to fight Peter again. Before doing so, he made sure to break your web slingers.

You were confused by what he meant so you tried getting out from under the debris. You struggled until you saw Miguel jump into the building. You motioned for him to come down and help you but he wouldn't.

He shook his head at you slowly.

You looked over to Peter, seeing him slowly lose his battle. The Goblin was beating him up badly. You looked up to Miguel.

"Help him!" You screamed.

Miguel looked away.

"Miguel!"

Nothing.

You looked back at Peter. You felt hopeless. His mask had been ripped in half, there were slash marks on his chest, and he had been slowly losing effort.

Looking up at Miguel, you sobbed and screamed.

Nothing.

All of a sudden, everything stopped. The world moved in slow motion. All the air got sucked out of you.

The Goblin had stabbed Peter with the glider.

No.

No. No.

No. No. NO.

It was all a blur. You don't remember how you got out of the debris but you did. You knew you were running but it felt slow. Your breathing and heartbeat were the most prominent sounds.

Before you could get close to the murderer, Miguel stopped you by taking care of him. He ripped out his talons and fangs. He got rid of the Goblin. Like he should've done ten minutes earlier.

"Peter." You sobbed, falling to your knees next to his lifeless body.

You ripped off your mask and threw it to the side. You didn't care. You were completely numb. The last thing you cared about was someone seeing who you were.

"No. No. No. Pete, this isn't funny. You can wake up now," you placed your hand on his cold and pale face. Your other hand went down to his stab wounds, covering your hand with blood.

Your body took control and screamed for you. A scream of agony. Pain. Grief. Betrayal. Anger.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and instantly shot up, "D-Don't you fucking touch me!"

Miguel stood back and watched as you stared at him with dead eyes.

"Y/n, I-"

"Why didn't you do anything, you bastard? You stood there and fucking watched my brother and your best friend get killed! Why?"

Miguel took a step towards you and tried to reach for you. You took a step back, contradicting his move.

"Why?!" You gritted through your teeth.

Miguel wanted to comfort you and tell you everything but he couldn't. He watched as tears traveled down your cheeks. He saw so many emotions swirling in your eyes. He saw Peter's blood on your hands when it really was on his hands.

"I can't tell you."

You felt your heart shatter even more when you heard his words. Your chest began heaving as your breathing grew rapidly.

"I fucking hate you."

Miguel's whole body broke down when you said those words.

"No, please, I-"

"You either tell me why my brother is dead or I'm gone. You will never see me again."

Miguel sighed as his eyes became blurred with tears.

"It was a canon event." He whispered, looking down ashamed.

"What?" You spoke, not hearing what he said clearly.

"It was a canon event," Miguel snapped, his voice breaking as tears began to flow, "It was supposed to happen and it can't be changed, okay? How do you think I feel when I realized I couldn't do anything to save him? Just like I couldn't save Gabriella! I tried changing it and it didn't work."

He didn't realize how close he had gotten to you. He could finally see the damage he had done. The color had been drained from your face. Your eyes didn't shine anymore. Your love for him was gone. And the way you were looking at him, it scared him.

You looked up at him with pure hatred in your eyes.

"How long have you known? And don't you dare lie to me."

Your clenched fist twitched in anticipation as you waited to hear the answer that would change everything you knew about Miguel.

It would change how you viewed Miguel.

"I've known since the day I met the two of you."

#miguel o'hara #oscar isaac #marvel #spiderman #miles morales #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #oscar isaac x reader #miguel x reader #angst #2099 #spider gwen #peter parker #peter b parker #may day #spiderman into the spiderverse

[hamsterclaw]

Favour

Namjoon agrees to do you a favour, if you return it. Part of the Love series.

Pairing: Namjoon x f!reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 800

Warnings: Mentions of death of a family member, a funeral

Namjoon’s shoulders look like a wall in the suit he’s wearing. Impenetrable, imposing. You use him as a barrier between you and the world at this funeral. 

You were close to your aunt, but not to the other members of your family on your mother’s side, and to navigate the intricacies of familial relationships right now, in your grief, is impossible. 

You’re at the very end of the pew at this church service, Namjoon between you and your great aunt and her husband. You’re glad for his solid warmth, for the distance he forces as your ex-husband. 

You’re aware of the quizzical looks you’re getting, aware that for most, it’s merely idle curiosity as to why your ex-husband is here with you. The only narratives you’ve assigned are your own, the reality is, no one cares that much about anyone else’s life when they’re busy living their own. 

You’d bribed Namjoon to come with you to this funeral, in your desperation you’d promised him a favour of his choosing, to be redeemed anytime. 

You’re fully expecting him to ask for a threesome with his current squeeze, Sohee. 

You’re a woman of  your word, and anyway it’s not like you or he are strangers to welcoming someone into your marital bed. 

Your aunt, when she was alive, treated you like you were valid, and important. She gave advice but didn’t nag. She took you seriously when you struggled to take yourself seriously. 

She’d liked Namjoon but hadn’t been surprised when your marriage crumbled. 

You haven’t seen each other as much as you’d have liked to in recent years. It’s just kind of how things panned out. You’d thought you’d have more time. 

You sit, dry-eyed, rigid in your seat as your uncle reads a poem your aunt liked. There’s a reading by the minister. Honestly, you’re barely listening. 

There’s a dam holding back your emotions, and you’re worried that if it breaks too much of you will be washed away. 

In your head, you work furiously to plaster over the cracks. 

Namjoon holds your hand like he’s trying to comfort you, and you have a sudden hysterical urge to laugh because he’s never been good at emotions. 

Neither have you. 

You’re so similar it’s a wonder your marriage lasted as long as it did. 

You squeeze Namjoon’s hand, reassuring. 

The wake is at your uncle’s apartment, and it’s stifling. He hasn’t taken down any pictures, the place looks exactly the same as when your aunt was alive and living there. 

You’d never realised how many pictures of you there were. 

You stop in front of a picture of you and your aunt at the beach house your aunt and uncle used to rent every summer. 

You don’t look over at the person who’s stopped next to you, but you can tell by the smell of his cologne that it’s Namjoon. 

He shifts, and his hand reaches over. You think he’s going to try to hold your hand again, but instead, his palm lands firmly, blatantly, on your ass. 

He squeezes gently. 

‘Shit, you look so much better now that your eyebrows have grown back,’ he muses, frowning at the picture. 

‘You’re such an asshole,’ you say, but there’s no heat in your voice. 

‘You look like you’ve grown a cup size since then too,’ he says, tilting his head. 

‘Jokes on you, I wear padded bras now,’ you say. 

He follows alongside you as you walk over to the next picture. 

‘The food’s shit, can we stop somewhere before we go to the beach?’ 

‘Sure, what do you want?’ 

***

It’s nearly sunset when you follow the ceremony to the beach to scatter your aunt’s ashes. 

You almost miss it because Namjoon makes you stop and get him a burger. He gives you all his fries, and you appreciate that he thinks it’s a sacrifice, even though you don’t feel much like eating. 

You hang back after everyone’s left, Namjoon’s suit jacket slung over your shoulders as you look out over the water. 

The sun’s dipped low, kissing the horizon. 

It’ll be dark soon. 

Namjoon says, ‘Damn, I hope the hotel has some decent porn channels.’ 

‘You’re such –’ 

‘An asshole,’ he finishes for you. 

When you look over at him, he’s looking back at you, dimple flashing. 

‘Since I’m being an asshole and everything, I guess I should call in my favour now.’ 

‘Sure,’ you say, past caring. 

He waits for so long to speak that you can barely see him in the dark. 

‘You should live your best life,’ he says, just as you think he’s forgotten what he was going to say. ‘Even if it doesn’t involve me.’ 

His hand finds yours in the dark, and this time, it’s so hard to let go. 

©hamsterclaw 2023

#namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you

[makingspiritualityreal]

Your Wealth and Its Sources in Houses 2, 6 and 10

So many people learning Astrology and looking at their chart are concerned about the condition of the 2nd house lord or planets deposited there, convinced it’s their “money making ability”, linked to their work environment.

This is a modern day misconception, as people have been blindly taught to believe that “making” money or getting a job is the only approach towards finances or wealth…while it only applies successfully to a narrow select group of people with specific placements.

The earthy houses of wealth accumulation possession 2, 6 and 10 all have a different way of providing that wealth, and the condition of their lords is going to determine how that process is going to take place in each chart.

The 2nd house is the wealth you are born with, which is why it’s also tied to the environment of family security. You don’t “make” money in the 2nd house, because it’s about basic provision that ensures your survival. That's why this house is produced for by Jupiter. You can’t do anything further with your life if you don’t have basic food or shelter. The 2nd house is the starter pack that you carry through life with you. It may need care and maintenance, just like you care for your home and possessions, but it’s essential role is basic family protection. An afflicted 2nd house can cause a lot of strife and struggles in life, handicapping a person's early life despite their best efforts.

The other houses are more tricky, because they are produced for by Saturn. That means they improve over time, but they also don't come as easy as a regular 2nd house situation should. However, they also give steady support, so when years pass you can rely on them even if your 2nd house was giving you grief in childhood.

Business endeavors start in the 6th house because of its mercurial nature, linking it to the concept of trade. Here, you take your 2nd house provisions and exchange the excess of what you don’t need that life provided you with, to get something from someone else that is useful to you. This is where the concept of “working” starts because to expand beyond your basic prime family conditions you need to put in a certain effort to trade. That’s why before the invention of currency people were engaging in trade offs to survive…again, a one on one debate that leads to exchanging goods and services.

This house is also where the value of our initial 2nd house resources comes to light, and this connection is the reason why people associate the 6th house with debt. If your 6th house is strong, you become the person other people rely on. You are the one helping others, and then karma comes, sometimes years after, and you collect. In an average situation with the 6th house, beneficial partnerships through exchange are readily available to you, so what you are lacking, the other person provides and vice versa. If the 2nd or 6th house and their lords are struggling, during appropriate transits or planetary period, you are the one who ends up having to put yourself in debt, as you are lacking so significantly in certain areas, that you need to actually work overtime to fill that hole, and in the meantime, you need to live on credit to survive, one way or another. However, if done well, an efficient 6th house raises you way above the status of your family of origin. Note, that you have to look at the 6th house dispositor to see what kind of debt or upgrade interests you. I have seen people with 6th - 12th house connections consider moving abroad a huge asset and make financial efforts to achieve that, even if where they ended up living wasn't necessarily that much more luxurious, but just more fitting for them personally.

The 10th house is your solid base of wealth that you accumulate as a result of experience and maturity. Not only you capitalized on your family wealth, but expanded it through increasing your assets by trading of the excess. That led to a build up of solid, long term capital, suitable for public use. A physical legacy, that you can not just enjoy for yourself but put out there to share with the world. This invites even more wealth, because the world rewards you for becoming a valuable substantial public contributor.

A strong 10th house gives someone a backbone, a clear energetic idea for how they want to show up in the world. It takes a lot of time with the 10th house, but the person works slowly but consistently at their legacy. They may have a lot of ideas, just waiting for the right opportunity to start building upon them. With a weak 10th house or its lord, you may find someone who has no long term foresight, doesn't think of their legacy and likely doesn't have a good routine. Since the 10th house is a natural result of the 6th house, a person with a weak 10th house or its lord tends to have a lot of health issues due to bad daily habits. Lack of responsibility leads to their legacy being squandered, or nothing worth remembering is there in the first place. A well place 10th house or its lord may even leave a spiritual legacy, for example someone who is well remember by many for their spirit, even if their physical assets were modest. It's more about skillful handling than the nature of the heritage.

Now you may be wondering, how does the concept of everyone being obliged to lifelong working or struggling for anything fit into this mold? Simple answer, it doesn’t. This concept is linked strictly to Rahu.

The modern day working world is completely based off immature Rahu energy. The obsessive chase, the constant pursuit. The mindless persistent, aggressive expansion, forcing people to climb where they're not meant to, misdirected greed and fruitless, overblown ambition.

We all have a area of struggle in our lives, we all have Saturn somewhere. We all have challenging chart points. But there are as many solutions to such situations as there are charts, and trying to fit into the most popular, obvious pathways is rarely the way out.

Even if you have Rahu in either of the earth houses and so the concept of pushing the envelope influences your wealth, a mature Rahu has the blessings of Saturn. It understands there is a right time for everything. A mature Rahu is where the principle of “work smart not hard” is born. Each chart situation is individual, and every struggle is equally valid. Not everyone's efforts are going to be work or finance related. Making measured efforts in the right place at the right time is what leads to success, for any chart.

#astrology #vedic astrology #Taurus #Virgo #capricorn #2nd house #6th house #10th house

[jewishvitya]

Do you live in Israel or are you just from there? If you do live there, is it scary to be pro-Palestine? I am kind of unclear on what the long-term plan would be when we free Palestine and that seems like the sort of thing you would know, can you help me out? Would settlers continue to live there?

I live in Israel, yeah.

It can be... Isolating. Sad. Horrifying. I lost friends, I can't speak to family members. Scary is... I don't know if that's the word?

Living in a reality of violence is scary, and I do have trauma from the things I experienced. Thunder sounds too much like explosions, if I don't expect it I can get panic attacks just from that. But being pro-Palestine isn't really a factor there.

Yesterday I spoke to an Israeli Palestinian and we spoke about Gaza. We spoke about how I'm worried for several people I personally talked to, how I'm worried for their families and friends and all the fear and grief they're dealing with, how he's been crying every day. We talked about how unnecessary this all is. About how "getting rid of Hamas" is such a useless goal when the destruction will just create the next generation of fighters, and we're killing so many people and ruining so many lives for nothing. We both have children and talked about how we can't imagine having to starve just to make sure the bits of food we have go to them, because children succumb to death from starvation and dehydration first.

He told me, "If a police officer heard us now, we'd both be arrested." He told me he wants to keep his head down, make money to take care of his children, go back home, live his life. And he told me "You know how strong the racism is, because they're racist to you for caring about us." And I wouldn't really put it in these terms, they're not racist to me. But I'm in the splash zone, in a way, by positioning myself close to Palestinians through sympathy and through trying to align myself with their liberation as best I can. And I do feel it. I'm worried about how I might get treated sometimes. It can impact so many things in my life.

But the person I talked to, being in his position is scary.

Me, I'm heartbroken. I'm furious. Seriously, I'm so fucking angry. Not really scared. That's privilege, I guess.

I'm not sure I can answer that too well. Palestinians write about what liberation looks like for them, and my reading process is very slow. So I can't give you any clarity.

If I'm speculating, I'd imagine Palestinians will want their lands back. I don't think we should get to just keep what we stole. This doesn't mean there will be no place for us at all. But I'd imagine a lot of things will have to change and move.

I mean, I spoke to a person from Gaza and I told him what city I live in. He didn't say "Get out of there, how dare you." He said something along the lines of, "I wish I could visit. My close friend is from there. He should have been your neighbor."

The desire to visit came up in conversations with multiple people, it genuinely breaks my heart.

Obviously I can't control what the solution will look like, and the long term will depend on so many factors. But conversations like this one are where I get my picture of what I should be aiming for, if that makes sense. Until I read what I need to and I'm better informed about what Palestinians want this to look like.

#riki babbles

[loving-mista]

Inuzuma boys Genshin

relationship headcannons

(with how long ive been playing this game i'm surprised i never got the idea to write for it) an: some of these are based on their voice lines birthday letters and in-game events so there are some slight spoilers ahead, so I tried to keep it as vague as possible. heizou and goru's parts are pretty short so sorry in advance

kamisato ayato

it's not secret that ayato has quite sadistic tendancies especilly when its in public.

that being said he absolutely loves teasing you in public, his cold hands on your waist under your shirt, or his hands moving a little lower past your back from time to time, or even just randomly whispering flirty comments in your ear. he loves the reactions you give are so endearing and cute to him

despite that little habit of his ayato always manages to sweep you off your feet, he may not be a good cook but he doesn't need those skills to make you fall head over heels for him

ayato is actually quite poetic, expect plenty of letters and poems addressed to you while he is away for work or other duties he has

ayato is quite fond in the idea of marrying you, he cant imagine his life without you, and he simply refuses to

there are times where dates have to be short due to his schedule, leading to plenty of bubble tea dates

ayato has nothing but undying love and loyalty for you and he makes sure to show it to you any way he can

Arataki itto

when itto isnt out scarying children or fighting beetles he can be quite the sweet boyfirend

lets face it itto loves to show off and you are no exception, he is just so proud of you being his he cant help but flaunt it to others

he named one of his onikabuto afert you, and he was so proud of it its now his favorite

he takes you along his little battles, you are his lucky charm after all

when the decree took his vision he feared he would forget you, he tried to spend as much time with you as possible to stop that from happening be wasn't willing to take the risk because what if he did forget you

thankfully that didn't happen though because even the idea of forgetting you made him upset

thoma

i am well aware he technically isn't an inuzuma boy but shhh

literally a golden retriever boyfriend at its finest

he's always offering to buy you sweets or food and he is always putting you before himself

when you helped save him during the vision hunt decree incident, he almost cried he was so worried for you the moment he saw you step in he was already trying to think of a way to ensure your safety and he was ready to willingly give his vision if it came to that

dates with Thoma are the best, whether it is exploring inuzuma to you both helping around, just getting to spend time with Thoma is amazing

if you aren't to scared of dogs he would introduce you to his "friends" who pretty much are the local stray dogs in the area

thoma is a sweet person and an even sweeter boyfriend

Kaedehara Kazuha

being a wanderer kazuha never stays in the same place too long, unless its the land of his home he somehow always finds his way back to inuzuma even after all the grief that comes with the memories from there

but now, all those negative emotions and memories are no longer a concern of his, not with you around. With you around all the bad feels like it's not so bad after all

kazuha is always thinking of you even when he isn't with you in inuzuma. while he's away he sends you sweet poems and love letters with a flower from wherever in teyvat he is attached to it

however despite him leaving every so often, kazuha tries his best to make up for lost time, and even takes you on some adventures of your very own

Shikanoin Heizou

he would randomly take you to help him with a case, if you're around he wants you to be there you help him feel like he can solve it quicker

escape room dates

heizou loves to ask for your opinion during cases, because the idea of you helping him just makes him so happy.

he loves writing you sweet letters however little do you know that each letter is connected to the previous he puts a lot of thought into them but even if you don't notice he's glad the letters are enough to get his feelings across

however, if you do notice, he literally perks up when you mention it he's so excited and happy about it. And ever since then, you notice he is more and more affectionate than he was before towards you

general gorou

gorou tries so hard to make it look like he doesn't enjoy your affection but that glisten of joy in his eyes and his wagging tail completely contradict that statement

he tries so hard to act tough in front of others but behind closed doors he's such a clingy person, he loves snuggling close to you and wrapping his ttail around you nuzzling his face in your neck. yeah complete opposite to his previous demeanor

don't get me wrong though, in front of others, he's just as sweet, just not as clingy and affectionate as he is behind closed doors when you both are alone

he also sends letters while he's away and each letter manages to be as sweet and full of love as the previous

#ayato kamisato imagines #ayato x reader #itto headcanons #itto x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #genshin x reader #heizou x reader #gorou x reader #arataki itto #genshin fluff

[atsm-miya]

been seeing a lot of nanako and mimiko hate recently because of the new episode, so i guess i’m gonna rant for a bit on why some people sympathize with their deaths (because oh my god, some of the people hating on them are getting annoying)

let’s first explore nanako and mimiko’s relationship with geto.

they view him as their savior because after getting abused and mistreated by their village for being sorcerers, geto was the one who saved them. in their world where darkness reigned, geto was the light the guided them outside of that worldview and introduced them to a society that has more to offer than just plain old shadows and gloom.

even more so, geto treated them as best as he could. he was a father figure to them. he provided them shelter, food, clothing, and most of all, he gave them a person they could lean on to for comfort and support. in the scene where nanako was brushing geto’s hair, you can see him reading a book. it’s called “colors of a mother” and it is a parenting book, showing you just how much geto cared for and loved them.

with this in mind, we can understand just how much the both of them loved geto. he was there for them when the world let them down. he showered them with love and affection, giving them another reason to continue to live and enjoy life.

they love geto to that point that even if they don’t forgive gojo for killing him, they think it’s fitting because gojo was geto’s one and only best friend. they respect geto and love him so much that it’s no surprise that they want kenjaku dead.

they want geto to be freed. they don’t want him to continue to “live” as someone else, they want him to rest peacefully. you can clearly see that they hate kenjaku for what he’s doing to geto (i.e using his body for his personal gain), which is why they turned to what they thought could solve their problem: ask sukuna to kill kenjaku.

in hindsight, i guess they thought that giving him an incentive would make him more likely to help them, but they fail to take into account that this was sukuna, the king of curses, the personification of evil itself.

for me personally, it was not a surprise that sukuna killed them. i understood long ago that sukuna would never change. he was the villain and he will always be the villain. i highly doubt that he would be getting a character development anytime soon, if ever.

however, despite not being surprised, i still felt sorry for them. just imagine, you are feeling helpless and you think you’ve finally solved your problem by asking another person for help, only for that person to kill your twin beside you before killing you as well. it’s messed up, but it’s life in the world of sorcerers and curses.

nonetheless, even with those reasons, people aren’t immune to being emotional whenever they see someone get killed. sure, nanako and mimiko have killed plenty of people already, but they are teenagers who just want their father to rest instead of getting paraded around by an evil curse who took their father’s corpse.

this does not excuse the twin’s actions, but people are allowed to sympathize with characters who go through grief and death.

hope this helps. 👍

#jujutsu kaisen #mimiko and nanako #geto suguru #i don’t necessarily like the twins but this had to be said

[buckyandgeraltsupremacy]

Not Alone Part 2 (Joel Miller x Fem!Reader)

joel miller x fem!reader

when you find yourself completely alone, you might just have to look up to realize you aren't.

warnings: mentioned death of family members; injuries; joel being mean (soft); probably typos lol

author: sj

masterlist

part one / part three

another part in the works :)

---

After your painful wonderful shower for the first time in forever, you found new clothes on the bed and went down to the kitchen to try to find something to eat. And as Maria promised, there was some food that looked like it would last you the day sitting on the counter. Your self control was ripped from you and you ended up eating the whole thing sitting on the floor.

Once the last bite of food was gone, it was then realized how utterly alone you were. You tried to take a deep breath, but couldn't seem to get your lungs to be able to work. You let yourself think about your brother for the first time. Luke wasn't supposed to go like that. Your baby brother. The only one you had left. You weren't a spring chicken any more, but you still felt like he was still a kid. You were five years older than him and he was your best friend. Not once, did you ever think he would leave your side. Much less, get bit. It all happened so fast. And all you could think about was having to shoot him with your last two bullets.

The tears streamed down your face and you got up and stumbled through the back door to get outside. The walls were closing in and you needed to get out. Ironic that the past few weeks, all you wanted was real shelter, and now that you had it, you couldn't stand it. You burst out of the back door and quickly stumble down the steps to the grass. The sobs racking your body as you mourn your life long best friend.

You don't know how long you laid there. All you know is that when the sun went down, your cheeks were dry and tight with the dried tears. You couldn't move but as you watched the sunset and the stars start to shine, you felt your lungs start to rise up and down again. You would be okay. You would have to be. You'd have to pull your weight. Even if it meant with a broken arm. It was okay that you were all alone. Others had done it, and if it was Luke, you would've wanted him to go on. He deserved to live a normal life and you would live it for him if you had to.

You sighed and rolled to your side to get up, freezing when you saw the little girl from next door sitting in a chair at the back of her house yards away from you. You mustered a smile, cheeks heating with the thought of her witnessing your grief. You waved and she waved you over. You swallowed your pride and slowly walked towards her and sat in the chair that she pointed to. What you didn't see was the man in the kitchen a few feet from the open back door that was one hundred percent eavesdropping.

"I don't think I've ever seen so many tears from one person." She said quietly, obviously trying to lighten the awkwardness.

"Well. I've been holding it in for a while, guess it was bound to come out at some point." You shrugged with one shoulder.

"What really happened to your arm?"

"Um... My brother broke it. He got infected and... yeah, just got broken in the struggle." You said, voice scratchy from your crying.

"Oh shit. Sorry. Thats... tough." Ellie said, earnestly trying to give you comfort. You nodded, grateful for her comfort, but not wanting to say it was okay, because truthfully, it wasn't.

"Ellie. Come eat." Joel yelled as he stuck his head out the back door. You jumped at the loud voice, his eyes latching onto the jumpy form.

"You can eat with us. Right Joel?" Ellie looked to Joel and she asked again, more forcefully this time. "Right Joel?"

"Yes." He said, softer, tone still hard as a rock.

"He's not as much of an asshole as he sounds. He just genuinely has an assholey voice." You smiled at her side comment to you and looked to Joel.

"If you're sure. I've already ran out of food. I won't each much I promise. Ate plenty for lunch, for the first time in... a long time." You said to him, getting up out of your chair and following Ellie into the kitchen.

Dinner went quietly, mostly filled with the sounds of silverware and Ellie asking you if you knew any puns. You quickly went home after dinner and Joel went to bed thinking about how your sobs sounded as you laid in the grass.

---

The next morning, Joel went to the stables to see if there was anything he could do around the barn. He wasn't scheduled for patrol until the next day, but needed something to do. He didn't like being home alone when Ellie was off at school learning god knows what. He knew he had to stay busy to keep his thoughts from spiraling.

As he walked into the stables and passed some of the stalls, he heard soft grunting. He slowed to a stop and peeked into the open stall the someone seemed to be in. Only to find you shoveling or attempting to shovel horse shit into a wheelbarrow. He watched as you tried to pick up the shovel that was loaded with one arm as you guided to help yourself pick it up with the arm that was not supposed to be in use. You grunted and then huffed out a frustrated sigh when it tipped and you dumped it, missing the wheelbarrow. The wheel barrowthat you wouldn't be able to carry with one arm. He wasn't quite sure why but it made him angry.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He asked sharply. He watched you jump and then sigh a small smile gracing your face as a greeting.

"Shoveling horse poop." You replied with a tired smile, immediately going back to trying to pick up the pile that you dumped.

"No shit sherlock." No pun intended. My god he was becoming Ellie. "I mean, why the hell are you shoveling with a broken arm? You're going to hurt yourself more." He said, walking in the stall and grabbing the shovel from your hands quickly.

"I'm trying to pull my weight. There weren't any shifts left any where and I have to get food some how. I don't know about you, but I'm not a fan of starving." You said, the smile leaving your face, and being replaced by a frown, looking at the shovel in his hands. He sighed and brushed a hand down his face in what seemed like frustration.

"Look. I'll finish up for you and then we can go to the hall and grab you some breakfast, yeah? If Ellie hears that I didn't feed ya, she'll feed me my hands for dinner. And don't worry about this shit until you're better. You're not gonna get better if you don't rest it." He demanded, not looking at your face as he finished shoveling the horse feces in the stall. Your wrist giving a nice dull throb that sent you grabbing your sling from your bag and putting it back on.

You watched as he lifted up the wheelbarrow and drove it past you towards the pile, muttering to himself about how you 'couldn't even fucking lift it if ya tried'.

The next thing you knew, you were sitting in the hall with a meal in front of you, eating like you were starved. Cause you basically were. After this mornings out burst, he hadn't said much to you and had just watched you with his brown eyes studying you, creases deep on his face.

"Don't worry about meals until your wrist heals up. You come to us for it, yeah? Ellie likes you and she doesn't get many older women in her life." You nodded, a smile returning to your face. Joel's chest did that weird cracking and blew out a breath. He didn't think he had any room left in there and he had a bad feeling you were going to squeeze in any how.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader fluff #joel miller hbo #joel miller x you #the last of us