#something about grief and loss and emotions. idk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moon-rivr · 2 months

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Can you please do one where Y/N is spider woman, but she is a variant of Miguel’s wife that died. She was recruited by Parker B, and she met Miguel at HQ. He’s cold and very distant from her, but in reality he just wants to hold her and love her like his old wife. Y/N sneaks into Miguel’s room one day hoping to snoop around to find anything that could explain his past and his cold demeanor. But she either comes upon him walking videos of him and his old wife (a 100% doppelgänger of Y/N, both physically and characteristically), or she accidentally finds the footage when she’s snooping around and Miguel catches her. (And Y/N has a crush on him the entire time)

glimpse of us

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: angst, death, mentions of pregnancy, miguel kinda being an ass? and brief mention of a blowjob (like one sentence brief 😭)

author’s note: should probably state that i was listening to frank ocean and jeff buckley’s ‘lover you should’ve come over’ while writing this so my bad if it’s too angsty LMFAO. anyways idk if this should be a 2 parter or if i should js leave it alone

word count: 6.2k

Grief. It was an emotion that Miguel was all too familiar with, whether it be losing civilians that pleaded for their life until the very end or simply just the grieving of a relationship. Grief sunk its claws deeply into his very being, the perspective that he had towards life completely tainted. He walked on eggshells to prevent himself from enduring any more losses, missing opportunities left and right out of fear. Every time he went through something traumatic, he assured himself that it'd be okay. That it was just a test of his character. And now, all that pain and suffering seemed worth it now that he was up there on the altar.

You were the embodiment of perfection, an angel sent from above to illuminate what was once the darkness in Miguel’s life. White lace intertwined into your wedding dress, the material falling well past your feet. The veil placed above your head flowed past your head, the crown fitting you all too well. You looked like you were meant for this moment, brought into this world to be his wife. Well, no. He was brought into this world to be completely and utterly devoted to you, thinking of himself as lucky that you reciprocated the feelings.

The sound of 'Wedding March' followed as you made your way up to the altar, everyone's attention solely focused on you. Yet, even with all the eyes peering into your direction, you could only manage to look up at Miguel. The image was imprinted in his mind the moment it happened, the rose petals on the floor surrounding you as you made your way up. The venue had been small, just enough to be able to fit both of your families and a couple of close friends. Despite of the venue size, Miguel had made sure to make every idea that you had a reality for the reception.

He refused to accept something other than what his pretty wife wanted, willing to bend over backwards just to fulfill your every whim. He didn't care about the amount of money that he had to spend, not when your presence mattered more than any possession he owned. He felt like he could spend this lifetime devoted solely to you and it still wouldn't be enough time. His only job throughout the wedding plan was swiping his debit card and approving the charges made to his account. He gave his opinion on a couple of the minute details such as the designs of the cups and the napkins, but overall, he left it up to you and the planner.

"Here, antes de que empieces a chillar," Gabriel whispered next to him in a teasing tone, handing him a handkerchief. Miguel took the cloth with a small shake of his head, putting it in his pocket. If anything, Gabriel should've kept the handkerchief for himself. Miguel felt all the saliva in his mouth dry up at the sight of you up close, seeing the gold necklace he'd bought for you adorning your neck upon further inspection. "You've got a little drool there," you whispered just for him to hear, a cheeky smile on your face as you pointed to the corner of his mouth. He indulged your teasing, swiping a finger where you'd pointed. "Hard not to drool when you look so enchanting."

(before you start crying)

"Thank you to everyone who's gathered here today for the gathering of this lovely couple," the priest started off, looking up from the book he was reading off of to the guests. He waited for the guests to settle down before continuing with what he had to say. The ceremony seemed to drag on as the priest continued to speak, all that Miguel wanted was to have the honor of being your husband. The crowd seemed to disappear while he looked at you underneath the fairy lights that you'd requested for the venue, his expression just so full of love as he admired you. In all the different ways that he'd seen you, this one had to be his favorite. The image of his future wife.

The sweet melody of your voice upon speaking your vows was soon drowned out as he looked down to see blood splattering around your stomach. The wedding continued as normal, everyone at the event sporting a smile on their faces. "Do you take Miguel O’Hara as your husband?" The priest asked, oblivious to the fact that you'd just collapsed on the podium. Matter of fact, everybody seemed oblivious. No one was rushing to call 911, too on the edge of their seats to wait for your response. If you were in pain, you didn't present it. Your eyes almost seemed to glisten as you looked over at Miguel, the words 'I do' escaping from your lips.

Cold sweat dribbled down his forehead as he woke up to the solitude of his bedroom, darkness enveloping him completely. His chest heaved as he tried to calm himself down, convince his brain that it was just a nightmare. His heart ached when he looked over at the spot next to him, finding it empty. He really needed a hug from you now. Needed to feel your fingers in his hair to ground back to earth. He wanted to let out a yell out of frustration, every dream and memory that he had of you now tainted with the memory of losing you. First date? You ended up on the floor with your stomach bleeding. Engagement party? Same result.

Ironically enough, the only thing he couldn't bring himself to dream of was the actual event of your death. That in itself would open up wounds that he wasn't ready to face, wounds that he wasn't sure he'd be able to go through for a second time. He ran a hand through his hair, the ends standing up like a soldier in command. The bed creaked underneath him as he stood up, his eyes rapidly blinking to try to get adjusted to the darkness. He stepped into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. It wasn't enough, it was almost like the scene was tattooed in his eyelids so he'd have to endure it as long as he lived.

The only thing that managed to soothe the pain that resided deep inside his soul was the physical pain that he willingly put himself through. The muscles in his legs ached as he moved up on the stair master, intensity set at the highest setting. His mornings usually consisted of this repetitive motion, getting about four hours of sleep before he woke up soaked in his own sweat just to be awake for the rest of the day. His body was over exerted from the amount of stress he was under, but he didn't care. He'd push himself beyond his limit if it meant it would distract him from the memory that you were no longer here to be his person.

"No, you're not listening to me, Miguel!" Your voice boomed throughout the apartment, overlapping his as he tried to argue back to you. You'd seen the scene too clearly and yet he still had the audacity to claim that they were just friends. As if friends looked at each other the way Dana D’Angelo looked at Miguel. She looked at him like she'd eat him alive regardless of the wedding band adorning his finger, her lip often caught in between her teeth as a mean to seduce him. "I'm telling you that I don't care about her advances, I only want you! Haven't I done enough to prove that to you?" He lowered his voice, holding your hands in between his own.

"Yet by not doing anything about her advances, you're making her think that it's okay!" While you didn't expect Miguel to cut off every woman from his life, you at least expected for him to shut down the ones who were so clearly interested in him. Miguel’s frustration seemed to be more evident now, his brows creasing together as he let go of your hands. "Te he dicho un millon de veces. I don't want Dana, I just want you. Please believe me when I say that," you could tell he was trying to make amends but that apology just wasn't cutting it. "Seriously, how hard is it just to cut that damn bitch off?! She cheated on you!"

(i've told you a million times)

"Maybe this whole marriage was a mistake if you can't even trust your husband," he uttered as he turned his back to you, your mouth agape at his words. He had to be saying them just to hurt you, right? He'd certainly done the job if that was his intent. You refrained from crying in front of him, never quite giving him that satisfaction in any arguments between the two of you. He'd never given you a reason to distrust him, but you couldn't say the same thing about Dana. You knew her issues regarding commitment, how easily she ignored the fact that someone was already accounted for.

"Maybe it was," you whispered quietly to yourself, unaware that he'd heard it even through the thin walls. It was only when you heard the staircase leading up to the apartment hallways that you allowed yourself to cry, assured by the fact that Miguel wasn't here listening to you. You looked over at the baby outfit you were planning on surprising him with, gripping it so tightly that your knuckles started to turn white. You were hoping on surprising him with the news of your pregnancy given how eager he was to have kids, only to have the evening end up in an argument.

The argument continued until the next day, both of you unable to put your pride aside and apologize. Well, mostly him. He was at his desk, glasses tipping at the edge of his nose as he read through the last report of his samples. His brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the percentages in front of him, the culture showing an abnormal amount of growth for the amount of time it'd been exposed to the antidote. His train of thought was abruptly cut off when he heard his cell phone ringing in the pocket of his jeans, a small groan escaping from his lips before he reached for it.

Your name appeared on the caller ID, his gut telling him that this call was important. Despite that, he pressed the red button to shut the ringing up. His ego was still bruised from the words you'd uttered yesterday, even though he knew that you hadn't meant them. They were just words spoken out of anger. the same reason why he even thought of uttering those words to you. He pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose, raising his hips to put his phone back in his pocket when the shrill ring sounded again. He took it as a sign of you raising a white flag, deciding to be receptive towards the signal.

"Aló?" He asked as he picked up the phone, your heavy breathing coming through the other end. He stood up in a frenzy as he listened to the sounds of your breathing, starting to feel his blood turn cold. "Miguel! Thank goodness you picked up. I think there's a couple men following me. Can you please come and pick me up? I'm at fifth a-POP!" All the air from his lungs left as he heard a gunshot coming through, the unmistakable sound of a thud echoing in his ears. "Hurry up and get her purse, asshole!" He heard the yelling and scuffling of feet get closer to the receiver, your belongings being stripped away as he was forced to listen.

Miguel remained on the line, wanting some kind of indication that you were still alive. For now, he'd settle for listening to your ragged breathing coming through. He'd called for an ambulance before leaving the house, though he wasn't sure how serious it would be taken with the amount of homicides that happened throughout nueva york. "Oyé. Once you get out the hospital, we're going to Bali like you wanted us to. We're renewing our vows," he spoke into the phone, his voice threatening to crack as he willed himself to cling onto the last bit of hope.

The ambulance still wasn't there by the time he arrived, his knees buckling at the sight of the amount of blood on the sidewalk. He watched other people walk around you like you were inconveniencing them, anger brewing inside him at the sight. He knelt down by your side, watching the bullet wound piercing through your shirt onto your stomach. He removed his shirt without much thought, using it as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. All he needed was more time. More time with you. More time to apologize to you.

All he wanted was to tell you was that he didn't mean it, wanted to let you know how much you meant to him and more. He didn't want you to die thinking that he hated you. The pain in his chest intensified at the thought, warm tears rolling down his cheeks onto your face. "I'm sorry," he tried to tell you in broken sentences, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes. He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for at this point, if it was for the fact that he wasn't able to save you or for the fact that he'd called your marriage a mistake.

The last thing he remembered from that was your hand squeezing his, your eyes snapping open to look at his for a fraction of a second. "I know, Miguel," your voice was hoarse as you spoke, blood leaking from your mouth. He was immediately dismissed from the scene once the paramedics arrived, the police following soon after. While he was getting questioned as one of the suspects from the attack, you were in the back of that ambulance battling to even stay alive. He forced himself to be compliant, answering the ridiculous questions just so he could be next to you again.

The wait outside the emergency roomed seemed endless, the ticking clock on the wall only adding to the ominous mood. His hands rested on his knees, his head hanging low as he listened to the chatter going on around him. A kid complaining that their mom wouldn't give them their tablet. A woman wailing loudly at the news of her daughter's stroke. After what seemed an eternity, a nurse approached him with a solemn look on her face. "We did everything we could but unfortunately the blood loss was just too much by the time we managed to get her underneath the table. The mortician's analyzing her body down in the morgue."

"Sorry about the wait, we like to do investigations on deaths that aren't of natural causes. We managed to get the bullet out intact so our chances of finding the perpetrators are much higher now," the mortician spoke to Miguel after coming out the laboratory, the voice coming out in a dull tone as Miguel forced himself to focus. The dim lighting around him almost seemed fitting with the topic of death. "We didn't find anything too out of the ordinary, except for the fact that her hgc hormone levels were elevated upon doing blood tests," the mortician continued, treating this as standard routine while Miguel was slowly dying inside. "Can you explain what that means?"

You were pregnant. A million of different scenarios ran through his head on the drive home, the image of you swollen with his baby resting in the forefront of his brain. His grip on the steering wheel was iron tight, trying to maintain his focus on the road ahead. He imagined the baby shower that he would never get to host now, the gender reveal that would now remain a permanent part of his imagination. He was running on autopilot, unable to register his surroundings when he arrived. Home didn't feel like home anymore. Not without one of your candles burning in the background. Not without the dulcet tunes of the record player you'd spent too much on.

His knuckles were purple by the end of the night, having found the perpetrators before the police were able to. The cracking of noses and the crunching of teeth grinding together filled his ears with a certain kind of satisfaction. His sense of morality had been long tainted before, his only goal in mind to have them meet the same fate you'd did. He beaten them to a bloody pulp, their faces disfigured after he was finished with the job. He was expecting for the feeling of satisfaction to rush over him, to make him feel like this was all worth it. But all this reminded him was that you weren't coming back no matter what he did.

Miguel spent the next couple days in bed, unable to fall asleep as the memory of your lifeless body ran through his mind at every second. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was your lips uttering that you forgave him. Shock, how he regretted the petty fight between the two of you. If the two of you hadn't been fighting, he would've been the one to take you to work instead of leaving you to your own devices. His mind was just a constant loop of: if, if, and if. He was curled up in a ball, silent tears soaking your pillow as he buried his face in it. He maintained doing this every night until the remnants of your shampoo no longer lingered on the pillowcase.

Eventually, he managed to leave the house upon realizing that all the food on the fridge was either pass its expiration date or rotten. He walked around aimlessly through the aisles, picking up what would be easiest to cook. The idea of eating didn't even appeal him all that much, not when it wasn't your delicious cooking. The type of cooking that would leave him going back for seconds, rubbing his stomach with his head tilted back at the dinner table. Soon enough, his cart was full of refried beans, frozen dinners for one, and chicken soup from a can. The once health junk that complained about processed foods was long gone, settling for what was easy.

He walked into the cleaning aisle section, unsure of what he needed to buy. You were usually the one who took care of the necessities of the house, knowing what brand of dish wash was better and knowing what brand of toilet paper would last you two the longest. He put the chemistry class he'd taken in college to work, reading through the ingredient lists until he found something that was up to his liking. He stopped by the laundry aisle, overwhelmed by the strong aroma of the different scents permeating the area. He'd only come in here to pick up one thing.

Fabric softener. It was the one thing that he did remember what brand you liked, since it was the first thing that he woke up to in the mornings. The relaxing scent of a lavender field hitting his nostrils as he brought the cover over his body. He scanned the shelves, unable to find what he was looking for. He scanned the shelves for a second time, taking his time to analyze the bottles as if he expected for it to magically appear from thin air. "Excuse me, but do you have any more of these in the back?" He asked an employee, pulling up a picture of the bottle he'd taken on his phone.

He felt the air leave his lungs as he waited, his throat constricting while his vision blurred. Bis chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his grip on the shelf next to him tight. His body was urging him for oxygen but he couldn't bring himself to breathe, warm tears accumulating in his waterline. The world seemed to be passing him by at a rapid speed, everybody too preoccupied in their own problems. His world, however, had been turned on its axis completely. He didn't know how to function like the rest of these people, not without you by his side.

"Sir?" The employee's voice was barely heard over the ringing circulating through his head, his eyes darting over to hers. "So, about that softener. The line's chosen to discontinue that product but there's plenty more on the shelves," their words only served to disappoint him even further, the frown on his face deepening to the point it almost looked like a scowl. His hands clasped and unclasped in attempt to calm himself down, trying to acknowledge that this was far beyond his control and this poor employee's control. His control lost against his emotions, his voice wavering as he tried to speak.

"Can you check the back again?!" He managed to croak out, desperate to have something that reminded him of lazy morning spent with you. Of the feeling of having his lips pressed against your forehead, your naked bodies intertwined underneath the dark bedsheets. He hadn't even meant to snap at the underpaid employee, but he needed that fabric softener. The others on the shelves just simply wouldn't suffice. He needed that small reminder to tether him to reality.

"Sorry sir, I don't know what to tell you.." the employee's words didn't quite compute in his brain, a sudden ringing reverberating throughout his skull. He managed to nod out a response so as to not get security called on him, ignoring the stares that people were shooting his way. The shelves seemed to be crowding around him, a cage closing in around him. He needed to get out of this place, needed to get back to the comfort of his own home. He needed to get away. Get back to the one place that was still full of memories of you, your trinkets scattered throughout the house. He gave up on shopping, leaving the cart behind.

He walked into one of the bathroom stalls, closing the door behind him. If he would've been a little more self conscious about his surroundings, he would've realized that he was kneeling in front of one of the Walmart toilets. Just the sight of public restrooms was enough to disgust him on a regular basis but he wasn't thinking properly. His eyes stung as salty tears rolled down his cheeks despite his best efforts to maintain his composure. He welcomed the sting that rested on his knees, anything to distract him from the fact that he felt himself falling apart. Any feeling of pain that wasn't caused by you.

He curled up into a ball on the dirty bathroom floor, his knees resting by his chest as he burst out into tears. He'd been holding out on breaking down for so long that the seams had finally unraveled. His shoulders shook as he sobbed, his mouth silently crying out for you. For you to come back to him. "Miguel?" LYLA spoke up after a couple minutes of inactivity, noticing him on the ground a couple minutes later. While she couldn't feel human emotions, she couldn't help but feel bad seeing her creator laying on the floor. "Peter. Miguel needs your help. I'm opening a portal to you."

"Miguel, come on man. You've gotta stand up," Peter pleaded with him as he tried to help him up to no avail. "No. It hurts," Miguel muttered, his eyes starting to burn from the amount of tears he was holding back. He was never one to cry in front of other people and he certainly wouldn't start now. "I know, Miguel. But come on, you can't have a mental breakdown in a Walmart. Let's go home and drink a couple beers, yeah?" Miguel only agreed to Peter's request to get him to shut up. His metabolism was too fast for the alcohol to hit him properly, leaving him in the same state that he was in the bathroom. But for now, he'd make stupid conversation.

So if Peter had seen him in that state, why had he brought a carbon copy of the woman that haunted his every waking moment was beyond him. Miguel had to do a double take just to make sure he wasn't seeing things, just the sight rendered him speechless. You waved up at him, almost seeming like you were expecting more out of this interaction. He couldn't bring himself to act normal, to even utter a word. Just the sight of you was too painful to bear, something like Medusa's stare. He simply nodded off to whatever Peter was telling him, waiting for the doors to close before he began a thorough analysis about your background.

He couldn't help but wonder if he could morph you to be the perfect image of his wife, shape you into the perfect mold. He'd even thought about how he would go about it, slowly but surely showering you with love until he was able to make subtle suggestions to you. Subtle suggestions that would turn you into a perfect image of his wife. He shook his head after thinking through the scenario once more, realizing just how much of an asshole he was being. He knew that you were a completely different person than his wife, the mole on your left eye serving to prove his point, but that didn't mean he still couldn't see her in you. Seeing you resurfaced some feelings he'd tried so hard to bury.

"Is he like that with everyone?" You asked Peter as he led you through the various paths of HQ, various paths that you'd inevitably end up getting lost in despite the tour. "Miguel? Yeah, I'd say so. Don't take anything too personal from him. You probably won't have to see him too often since you report to me anyways," Peter's words were meant to be reassuring, but you couldn't help doubt the sincerity behind them. They seemed measured, almost like he didn't want to hurt your feelings in the process. You decided to stop asking questions about Miguel, choosing to ask more about how the society worked.

The few times that you did see Miguel were during your mission briefings and even then, he seemed to want to avoid you at all costs. He avoided eye contact with you as he spoke, answering other people's questions before answering your own. "Yes Web-Slinger?" He inquired after he was done with his train of thought, his red eyes focused on the cowboy-ish Spider-Man. "Well the little lady over there had her hand up so she can go first," the other man replied, referring to you. You wanted to shrink into your seat when everyone's gaze was directed towards you. "Yes but I’m answering your question first. What is it?"

Despite the fact that he didn't give you any actual motive to develop a crush on him, you still couldn't help yourself. You started looking forward to the mission briefings despite how much time they lasted. You started thinking about him in scenarios that you probably shouldn't have, thinking of the way his muscles would tense under your touch as you gave him a massage. You'd heard some baseless rumors from the other spiders at HQ who'd slept with him, fantasizing that it was your body he was playing like an instrument instead of them. You were practically feeding your delusions off of bread crumbs, silently cheering for yourself when he managed to face you.

You thought that maybe he was just stressed out the day Peter had introduced you to him, given that he was the one leading this whole organization and whatnot. "One coffee, please," you ordered at the cafeteria, standing for an ungodly amount of time in line. Though, with the amount of variants that wandered throughout the building, you supposed you couldn't expect for easy service. You took the cup of coffee after paying two dollars for it, making your way over to Miguel’s office. You were hoping you could get some brownie points with him. Start off slow before you tried to pursue something deeper with him, something more intimate.

You brought your fingers up to the door, hesitating for a moment before knocking on it three times. Miguel instantly hated himself for even recognizing that knock, the minute details about his wife engraved deep into his cortex. Deep into his soul. "Come in," his voice came out from inside, unbeknownst to you that he was looking at the cameras throughout HQ. "I brought you a coffee. I didn't know which one to get so I just went with black," you offered as you peered your head to look up at the platform he was standing on. You could barely make out his figure with the darkness surrounding you, the only light source being the monitors around.

"I don't drink coffee," his response came out curt, making you question what you did wrong this time. As adamant as he was to not pursue any conversation with you, you were at the very least determined to leave him with a good impression of yourself. At least aiming for that since any chances of him reciprocating the feelings brewing out inside you seemed slim to none. "Are you sure? I saw you with a cup the other day," you tried to push the subject further, hoping he'd be a bit more receptive this time around. "I didn't stutter, did I? I said I don't drink coffee."

It was so quiet that you could hear the quiet beeping from the computers, the noises almost mocking your attempts. "Well, I'll just leave it on your desk in case you change your mind," you told him, setting it down on the table with the least electronics sitting on it. You made your way out of his office, grimacing to yourself as you recounted the events. Well, at least he'd spoken more words than before. Even if they did undermine your intelligence a bit. You wouldn't consider it as a win, but you'd consider it as progress. Somewhat. Well, you hoped that it was a step in the right direction towards getting to know him.

Miguel picked up the cup of coffee, immediately wanting to be disgusted at the gesture and wanting to throw it out. He saw it as something that disturbed the equilibrium of his office. As minute as it was. He took a sip from the cup, mentally reprimanding himself for enjoying the liquid going down his throat. "You're so weird, seriously. Who just drinks black coffee?" His wife used to tease him during the mornings after making his cup, setting it on the counter along with the daily newspaper and a plate of eggs. He'd almost thought of apologizing to you, holding you against himself to remind himself of what he used to have but he knew better of it. He knew it wouldn't be the same.

You busied yourself with the multitude of files that Miguel left for you to do, the task making it seem like he was keeping you busy for as long as possible. You were buried underneath paperwork, filling up papers that you had the briefest knowledge of given the reports provided. You'd made it out of your desk at around seven, much of the other spiders having already departed from HQ to head back to their respective universes. You lingered for a little bit longer, strolling around to make yourself a bit more acquainted with the place before sitting down at the common area. You scrolled lazily through your phone, trying to find something to distract you from heading back home.

You watched as Miguel departed from his office, talking to one of the spiders with his gizmo before opening up a portal. The orange colors swirled around, complimenting the blue and red design of his suit before he disappeared inside. You couldn't help but wonder if he just had a problem with you specifically or if he had some kind of trauma trailing behind him. While he was more closed off and less charismatic than the other spiders, he at least made the effort to maintain a proper conversation with them. You rubbed your sweaty palms on the material of your pants, standing up from your seat to head into his office.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A voice behind you boomed, your back straightening out like a ruler. You turned around to face miguel, the clip from his wedding playing in the background. Specifically the part where you, well your variant, was sharing her vows. You'd never seen him smile the way he did in those videos, never seen him so full of life. You were about to open your mouth to explain but Miguel’s glare was quick to shut you up. You didn't know how to explain the situation, that you were snooping around his personal belongings because you were curious?

"Get out. I don't want to find you in my office again."

You defeatedly got off from the platform, making your way over to the door. You looked back at him, the pain in your chest growing stronger at his rejection. You just wanted to know more about him, get a glimpse of the man behind the shell that he put on for the public. Despite getting the answers you were looking for, you were only left with more questions in turn. Did he hate you because you reminded him of who he couldn't go home to? You stood there with your hand on the doorknob like a fool, waiting for him to take mercy on your poor, bleeding heart. Mercy that unfortunately never came.

"I thought I told you to get out."

The scent of your perfume lingered inside of the room, the slightly floral aroma hitting his nostrils when you departed. He shouldn't have thought much of it but it only served to prove how much different from his wife you were. Despite the fact that the two of you were so similar, even in the ways that you acted, there was a little difference here and there. The foods that you liked to frequent, the different aromas that you enjoyed, and even the jewelry that you chose to wear. His wife had been more subtle with her jewelry while you chose to wear a heart necklace over top your Spider-Suit. Just the thought was enough to drive him mad.

Miguel let out a shaky exhale, his eyes traveling to where the clip was playing in the background. "Por ti aprendería todo los idiomas si fuera necesario para describir el amor que siento. Te amo, Miguel. Ahora y en la muerte," your voice was a sweet melody that he could never get enough, his throat closing up as he hung his head. "Y yo a ti," he spoke up along with the recording, the camera panning over to Miguel as he went through his own vows. The exchange of love brought an involuntary smile to his face, no awful dream morphing it into something it wasn't. The ceremony played out, the waltz music filling the silence in his office.

(for you, i'd learn all the languages if it was necessary to describe the love i feel for you. i love you, miguel. now and in death//and i to you.)

He frantically looked through the files, analyzing each of them by name just to make sure you hadn't deleted any while snooping around. He'd seen them plenty of times whenever his mind was too much to handle, which seemed to be more often these days. He let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding after triple checking the files, all of them where they were supposed to be. Almost as if it wasn't enough to have that sense of security, he decided to put them in an encoded folder that only he and LYLA would be able to access now. Those memories meant too much for him to put them at stake.

That night, no dreams of his wife came back to haunt him. No painful reminders of how she'd died, of how he'd failed her in her last moments. His dreams were oddly peaceful, a life in a beach paradise where none of his worries seemed to matter. He still ended up waking up in the same cold sweat when he got the image of you, the new spider recruit, haunting his dreams with that sweet smile of yours. The dream itself had been enjoyable, an arm wrapped around your waist as he kissed you good morning. The feeling of your lips wrapped around his morning erection, your tongue greedily lapping up his precum while the sunlight illuminated your features.

The thought of it being you and not his wife for once stirred him awake faster than any nightmare ever could. The fact that he was starting to grow more accustomed to you as a person, rather a simple visage reminding him of what used to be terrified him more than any multiversal anomaly. He was unable to fall asleep for the duration of the night, simply looking up at the ceiling as he tried to figure out what the dream could possibly mean. He wanted to hate you so badly, for reminding him of his past failures. And yet, he couldn't help but long for your company now that he was laying alone.

taglist🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02

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serpentandlily · 7 months

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Hello! I hope you are doing well ^^ I love (times infinity!) your writing and if you are accepting reqs, I have an idea for a short oneshot and I would like to share it with you and hopefully to bring the story alive! It's Rhys x Reader where reader is Rhys's mate and reader has a lot of duties needed to handle, especially being the mate of the High Lord. One day reader feels all type of exhaustion; mentally, physically, emotionally, psychologically, sleepness nights. Reader shut down the mate bond so that Rhys wouldn't feel anything and know about reader's emotions and wouldn't add more worry to Rhys. Reader always held their head high, smile on their face, and a strong persona as not to worry anyone. One day reader got too overwhelmed and decided to get a fresh air but as reader went out something happened (idk how to put it 😅 I'll leave this part to your creativity) and somehow during the process of everything of that something was happening Rhys found out about what their mate was truly feeling. Major major major angst, if you would like. Thank you so much in advance! 🫶

Ahhh tysm !! You’re my first request and I love your idea !! I hope I did it justice <3

Falling Apart for You - Rhysand x Reader

Summary: You’ve been a pillar of support for your mate and High Lord for as long as you can remember but when you receive some bad news, you can’t stop yourself from finally falling apart.

Warnings: angst, mention of loss, grief

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Everybody had a role in this group for their High Lord. Mor was his cousin, the one he could tease but always rely on, Cassian and Azriel were his brothers, the two people he could let off steam with in a way only Illyrians could–through fists and bruises, Amren, his trusted advisor and endless supply of knowledge, and then there was you…his High Lady and his rock. The one person in his life who he knew could handle everything he threw at you and more. His rock that kept him sane, supported him without crumbling, and held him up when he couldn’t do it himself.

And you loved being that person for him. He was your mate, your husband, your High Lord. You were honored to devote your life to the male you loved more than anything. The mating bond between you and Rhys had snapped right after he had just lost his mother and sister and had become High Lord of the Night Court. Suddenly, your life had gone from being a simple girl helping your parents with their farm in the countryside to a High Lady having to learn the ins and outs of running a court while also supporting your mate who was still suffering from the loss of his family.

You had done it all with a smile on your face. Because it did truly bring you happiness, Rhys brought you happiness. You loved him like the sun loved the moon, always one step behind him, ready to catch him if he ever fell. And you knew he loved you too. He practically worshiped the ground you walked on, spoiled you with a life filled with love and riches. And you were so grateful for everything he had done for you—and for your family. He had dug you all out of the trenches of poverty, given you a voice and power in a court who had previously never cared for its poor and unfortunate.

You never crumbled under the weight of the responsibilities of being a High Lord’s mate because you knew what it was like to constantly feel like you carried the world on your shoulders. Living in poverty meant always being strong because one mistake, one simple misfortune, could leave you without a home, without food, without anything left to your name.

So being the strong one, keeping your head up with a smile on your face despite the stress of everything, that had always been who you were. And that's exactly who you were for your mate.

So when Rhys went to that fateful meeting with Hybern’s General and disappeared for forty-nine years, you continued to be that person despite your whole world crumbling under your feet. You kept a brave face for your people, kept Velaris up and running without its High Lord, protected your court as best you could without your mate by your side.

You had begged and begged Rhys not to go to that meeting. Had begged him to let you go with him when he decided against your pleas to go anyways. And all it took was one night, one evil female, to completely ruin everything for you. Rhys had blocked off his end of the mating bond, something that was nearly as worse as death to you. But every once in a while, when things had gotten especially hard under the mountain for him, his control would slip and you would be hit with a wave of his emotions.

Disgust, pain, torture, agony, longing, guilt, grief, self-hatred, despair.

All the while, you had to keep a brave face not just for your people but for the Inner Circle. You never let them know the things you felt from Rhys through the mating bond. Didn’t want to add that burden to their shoulders. And despite how much they helped you in those forty-nine years, nothing they did would ever be able to take away the pure agony of knowing your mate was being abused and degraded and not being able to do a single thing about it.

You hated that part of you resented Rhys for that. For going to that stupid meeting despite you. For forcing you to run a court alone for forty-nine years. For locking you in Velaris with no contact from the outside world—no contact with your parents who lived on the outskirts of Illyria’s mountains. You were so angry with him at times.

But then he returned a broken male. Pale, thin and in pieces. So how could you ever let him know your true feelings? How could you ever even complain about how hard things had been for you here? He had gone through hell and back for you, for his family, for his court. So you sucked up all your feelings, bottled them away, and moved on. Went back to being his rock. Nursed him back to health. Shouldered every burden for him until he was well enough to resume his role.

And then the war came and everything got worse. Suddenly your work doubled and everything else had to be put on the backburner. You hadn’t even had the chance to visit your own family in the year after the barrier between Velaris and the rest of the world had finally come down. You focused all your attention and time on Rhys and your court. Just make it through the war, you would tell yourself. Just make it another day. When peace was reached, you’d finally be able to see your family—to hug your mother and father after fifty years.

It was finally all over and you were sucked up in the aftermath of rebuilding. With the newfound peace though, that hold you had over your emotions had begun to disintegrate. Without having to spend all your time focused on survival, the feelings you had buried deep inside of you had risen once again.

You were so tired. So unbelievably tired and overwhelmed. You could hardly sleep without being plagued with nightmares, rarely had an appetite. Mentally and physically, you could feel your body shutting down. It was hard to get out of bed most days, not that you would ever let Rhys know. He still had his own burdens and trauma to work through. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. So you kept your side of the mating bond well guarded, making sure he never even got so much of an inkling to what you were truly feeling.

You held a steaming mug of coffee in your hand as you slipped into Rhys’s office. A smile bloomed on your face at the sight of your mate at his desk, hunched over a bunch of reports and correspondence from other courts. All things you had already sorted through and weeded out the most important for him to look over. His beautiful face didn’t even lift at the sound of you walking in.

You set his mug down on his desk and moved over to his side to look over his shoulder at the paperwork. He grunted his thanks. You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, pressing a small kiss to his throat.

“How’s it coming, my love?”

“Keir is still a pain in my ass. The Illyrians are still revolting against the idea of letting their females train,” Rhys grumbled. “It's taking longer to rebuild the areas in Velaris that got destroyed during the attack than we thought. And fucking Beron still isn’t responding to anyone’s letters about scheduling another High Lords’ meeting to discuss a new peace treaty.”

All things you already knew of course. What he didn’t know was the hundreds of other issues you had separated from the more important ones that you had dealt with this morning. Your hand hurt from all the letters you had written on his behalf. Your mind was numb after reading depressing letters from widows looking for aid because their husbands had died in the war.

You needed a break. He needed a break. You could feel yourself crumbling.

“How about you take a break for now,” you suggested. “And walk with me through the gardens before your meeting with Amren?”

Rhys let out a displeased noise and shook your arms off his shoulders. Hurt flashed through you at his dismissal but you tried not to let it get to you.

“Can’t you see I’m busy,” Rhys growled. “I don’t have time for a break.”

He was stressed, you knew that. But his words still cut through you like a sharpened blade. You were busy too. You had been for a long time. If you could see he needed a break, why couldn’t he see how much you needed one too?

“Of course,” you replied, keeping your pain and frustration out of your voice. “I just thought…Nevermind.”

You quickly scurried out of his office before he could see how hurt you were, not wanting to stress him out even further. You knew you shouldn’t take it to heart. You knew he’d likely apologize later. But it didn’t change the fact that it hurt. It hurt more than anything that he couldn’t see just how much you needed him right now. You hadn’t asked anything of him since he had returned from under the mountain, had never complained, never faltered in your support.

For once you wished it could be you leaning against someone else. You wished you had someone to hold you up right now. To be strong for you. But as usual, you were alone. So, so alone. Maybe it was your fault for not telling him but why should you have to? You had never had to ask someone if they needed you. Merely saw that they were struggling and went out of your way to help them without question. So why couldn’t your own mate do that for you?

You let out a long sigh and decided to take that walk in the gardens, even if you would do so alone. Maybe some fresh air would help.

The sound of birds and leaves rustling in the wind served as your company as you walked along the cobblestone path in the gardens. The scent of the spring-blooming flowers whirled around in the air. You should be enjoying it all but you couldn’t. Not when so much was on your mind.

Before you could take another step, a letter appeared right in front of you. It drifted to the ground and landed right at your feet. You picked it up, instantly recognizing the penmanship. Your name was written on the front of the envelope in your father’s handwriting. You frowned. You had forgotten about your family for the time being, lost in your work for the court. Forgot you hadn’t even seen them in fifty years.

You tore the letter open and read through the contents. Read it a second time. And then a third. No. No no no no. You squeezed your eyes shut and then read it again, hoping the words on the parchment would change. No. This couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be real. No.

You couldn’t breath, couldn’t see, couldn’t think.

You didn’t even realize you had fallen onto your knees. It felt like the entire world was collapsing on you. Every little thing you had been holding up suddenly too heavy. You wanted to scream and scream and scream. Wanted to vomit. Wanted to burn this whole city to the ground. The hold you had on yourself was ripped apart. Your entire being felt like it was ripped apart along it.

This was it. This would be the final thing that snapped you in half. Years and years of being strong, of keeping this court together in Rhys’s absence, of fighting through a war. Doing all of it with your head held high, with a smile on your face as you held your mate night after night. Let him fall apart in your arms and put him back together. You had survived through all of that but now this?

Had all of that been worth this? You had neglected your own life, your own family. Guilt crashed into you. Guilt, anger, agony. You had sacrificed so much to be a strong pillar in other peoples life and this is how the universe repaid you. You read the letter once more, the parchment crumbing as your grip tightened.

To my dearest daughter,

I have written to you twice a week for the past fifty years to no reply. I am beginning to worry my letters are not finding you. But I hope and pray this one does. Your mother has succumbed to her illness, angel. I wish I could’ve told you in person. I wish you could’ve been here for her last moments. I am putting off her funeral for as long as I can in hopes that you are able to come home and help me put her to rest, angel. I know how busy you are and how much you do for our court, so I hope you do not feel guilty for not being here. Your mother was so, so very proud of you, angel. She loved you so much and she wouldn’t want you to feel that guilt.

I hope this letter finds you. I will send a messenger as well but I fear they might not make it to you in time. Please come as soon as you can.

With all my love,

Your Father

You could feel your magic swirling inside of you like a beast begging to be let out of its cage. You knew you’d take the whole damn city out with you if you released it here. So with half a mind, you winnowed away to the one place you knew would be safe.

You had no idea that your control over the mating bond had slipped in your grief. Had no idea you had just flooded your mate with years and years worth of pain. Had no idea that he collapsed over his desk, overwhelmed at the emotions bombarding him. He was shocked, stunned at the emotions that were coming through to him. His mate was suffering, deteriorating, and he had been so blind to it all. His hands clenched into fists and he rose from his desk. He needed to find you, now.

Your magic spiraled out of you like a monsoon. The earth surrounding you was scorched black, the trees all broken and bent out of place. You had released wave after wave of magic until you were burnt out completely. And now you lie in the wake of your destruction, crying and crying. Hugging yourself on the floor. Your mother was dead. DEAD. And your father had been trying to reach you for fifty years to tell you she was ill.

But Rhys had closed off Velaris when Amarantha had come. Had made every fae not in the city forget of its existence. And so his letters had never reached you. Not until this one that came now that the barriers were gone. Now that the whole of Prythian knew about the city. But it was too late. You would never get the chance to see her, to hug her, again. She was gone.

A wave of darkness took over the field and your mate appeared from it, his face cold and stony, as if he were expecting to come face to face with danger. You watched as his violet eyes took in the sight before him. Of the valley you had destroyed. And of you.

His face fell and he rushed towards you but you scurried away on your backside. You didn’t want to see him right now. Didn’t want him near you. He was partly at fault for all of this. He was the reason your father’s letters had never made it to you.

“Y/n…” he whispered your name, his voice filled with despair. “What’s going on? What happened? Are you okay?”

A sob broke free from your lips and his face crumbled further. He knelt down on the floor in front of you, reaching a hand out towards you but you turned your head away from it. “Please, darling. Please tell me what happened. What’s wrong?”

“W-what’s wrong?” you choked out. “Now you want to know what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean, darling?” he questioned. “Of course I do. You know I do.”

“Seriously, Rhys?! Ever since you came back to us, you’ve barely even looked at me! You hardly ever ask how I’m doing. Hardly ever make time for me, your mate! So why would I ever think that you cared now?!”

“I’ve been busy, darling, you know that,” he said, softly. “But I’m—”

You cut him off, crawling towards him and shoving a finger to his chest. “And you don’t think I have?! You think I haven't been busy too?! I have put everything I have into keeping this court together! I have spent hours and hours doing work so you could focus on the important things! I spent the past fifty years holding Velaris together while you were gone! I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a break, or even a day to myself! And you don’t even seem to recognize how much I do for you, how much I have done since you’ve been gone!”

“Darling, I had no idea—”

“Of course you didn’t! You never ask me how I’ve been. You never asked me how things were here when you were gone. Did you know when you were under the mountain, you’d sometimes send your feelings to me? Do you have any idea how hard it was to know you were suffering and not be able to do a single thing to help you? I begged you not to go to that party! Begged you! And then instead of letting us try to help you, you locked us all up with no way to get out!”

“I only had seconds to make a decision,” Rhys stressed. “Seconds. I’m sorry, darling, but I did what I had to in order to keep you safe, to keep Velaris safe. I don’t regret it.”

“I know, Rhys. I know how much you suffered for us. But what if I had done that to you? What if I had made that decision and forced you to spend fifty years stuck in Velaris while I was being tortured every single night?”

“I…I don’t know what I would’ve done, darling. I probably would’ve torn the whole world apart to get to you.”

“I considered it. I really did. But I knew you’d made that sacrifice for a reason. So I put on a brave face and I kept Velaris running the entire time you were gone. Kept our family from falling apart. And then you came back to us and I was so relieved, Rhys. But you were different. You had gone through hell. And then the war happened. Once it was over I thought maybe now we’d get to take a break, to just spend time with each other, to finally heal. But you just keep throwing yourself into work and I have to just smile through it all because I’m your High Lady and that's what's expected of me.”

Rhys seemed at a loss for words, taken aback. For some reason, that only made you angrier. You ripped at your stupid gown, at the jeweled necklace around your throat that cost more than your parent’s farm, and tossed it to the ground.

“I never asked for this! I never asked to be a High Lady! To have to run a court! I was just a farm girl, Rhys. And then you came along and suddenly I had to be this perfect, educated, well-mannered Lady. Do you realize how much effort that took? Do you realize how out of place I feel most of the time?”

“Darling, I’ve never expected you to be anything other than yourself,” Rhys said gently. “I love who you are. I fell in love with you when you were just that pretty little farm girl and I have loved you ever since.”

“Maybe you don’t expect me to be anyone else,” you cried. “But our people, our court—everyone wants something from me now! They expect me to be like you, expect me to know the answers to all their problems! And I’m supposed to do it all with a smile on my face, with grace and appreciation! And I’m just so tired, Rhys. So, so tired.”

“I had no idea you felt this way, darling.” Rhys reached for you again but you backed away from his touch once more. He frowned, devastated. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me you needed a break?”

“How could I?” you cried out. “After everything you went through, how could I be the one to demand a break?! I sucked it up, for you, for our court. And Gods, I can’t do it anymore, Rhys. I can’t. I’ve fucked up and now I can’t even say goodbye to her!”

Rhys’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Darling, what are you talking about? You haven’t fucked up anything. It’s me who has let you down. What do you mean you can’t say goodbye to her? Say goodbye to who?”

You ripped your father’s letter out of your pocket and thrust it against his chest. He took it out of your hand gently as you fell apart all over again. You sobbed as he read it, his eyes widening as he looked up at you. “Oh darling…oh, my love, I am so, so sorry.”

He grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. You didn’t have the energy to fight him off—too lost in your grief. “You closed us off from the rest of the world. You made my father forget about Velaris. I never got any of his letters, Rhys! And now it's too late! She’s gone and it's too late.”

You choked on your own sobs and he tightened his arms around you, stroking your hair as he held you close. “I’m so sorry, darling. I am so, so sorry. I never meant for this. I didn’t even think…I’m so sorry.”

More sobs ripped from your throat and Rhys rocked you as you cried and cried and cried. It hurt so much. All of it. It was just too much. And even now you felt guilty. Guilty that you had dragged him out here, had unloaded on him.

“Don’t do that, darling,” he whispered against your hair. “Don’t feel guilty. Let me help you for once. I know how much you’ve done for my court, for me. I’ve been shit at showing you lately, but I love you so, so much, darling. And I appreciate every single thing you do for me, for our family, for our people. I’m so sorry that I haven’t been showing you just how much I appreciate you. I love you more than the stars themselves. I do not know where I’d be right now without you and I am just so sorry.”

You couldn’t reply. Couldn’t do anything but cry as you thought of your mother and father suffering all those years without you. You had been taking care of everyone else, everyone except your own family. And now it was too late.

Rhys held you close as you cried. Stroking your hair, pressing kisses to the top of your head, whispering how much he loved you, how sorry he was. And for once, you let yourself falter. Let yourself be held and coddled by your mate, the one person who loved you the most. You both had suffered so much, for far too long.

After some time had gone by, he pulled you back to look at you. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “Let me take care of you, darling. Let me take you to your father. I will put together a proper send off for your mother, okay? I will get everything settled while you spend some time with him. And then after you put her to rest, we can go to the cabin and spend the rest of the week there. Just us. I won’t let anyone bother us. Okay? Will you let me do that for you?”

You sniffled, staring up into Rhys’s eyes. He stared down at you with love and admiration. Stared at you like you were the answer to all his questions. The most precious thing to him in the world. And you could feel him through your mating bond, sending reassurance and comfort to you. The floodgates completely open.

His touch was so loving, his gaze telling you everything you needed to know. So, you nodded. And then melted back into his arms and finally let him be the rock you crashed against.

#acotar #rhysand #rhysand x you #rhysand x reader #acotar fanfiction #fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar x you #angst #hurt/comfort #oneshot

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three--rings · 6 months

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There's something I think is important to say, in the wake of the season finale.

And that is that Izzy Hands' death wouldn't be such a huge blow to Izzy fans if the fandom had treated them better for the last year and a half.

Losing a beloved character can be devastating. I personally have cried for days over it. (In retrospect I had Other Shit going on that made me extra susceptible.)

But Izzy fans have been through the wringer. Outcast and targeted for abuse in the fandom, accused of every kind of derangement and personal flaw, death threats, doxxing, organized harassment campaigns.

I don't even know most of it, because I'm not someone who spent time in the Izzy trenches, I still got death threats for talking about him. But I saw things that really made me disgusted with the whole fandom.

Then they got the high of being proved right by S2 in their interpretation of Izzy's character. The writers agree with Izzy fans, full stop. And just when it seemed like all the shit might be over and have been...IDK worth it? Rewarded?

Well, then he's killed off.

I understand the rage, the grief, the despair to feel like you were finally getting the thing you wanted from a show and then to have it soured. (coughTheMagicianscough)

I think it's important for the fandom, if it doesn't want to descend back into toxic sludge, to have some compassion and tolerance of Izzy fans emotional reaction. Talking shit about the fans that just experienced a great loss is not a class move.

Please try to have an ounce of empathy and humanity.

Because it's only NATURAL in in such a hostile fandom environment, Izzy fans grew deeply attached to their messed up little guy. They suffered abuse for it. That only makes things more intense.

I've been there, multiple times. It fucking sucks. We all are having a lot of emotions about the finale, and the very least we can do is to not turn on fellow fans.

I have very little hope for this fandom not turning back into a dumpster fire, because frankly the track record is POOR. But, well, figured I give it a shot in the dark.

#ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd fandom #izzy hands #izzy fucking hands #(my personal izzy tag)

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oleander-nin · 7 months

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Horrotober Day 18 - Flame(Yandere Rise Mikey x Reader)

A/N, not important: I am trying so hard to make my work have like, emotion in it. Idk how I'm doing. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Fire, parental death, death, loss, grief written badly, gasoline, arson, burns, kidnapping, dark themes, yandere themes.

Words: 1278

Summary: Mikey burns down your old home as a testament to you new life with him.

The stark smell of gasoline stirs you awake, your eyes fluttering open to your dim room. Your night light was shining warmly in the corner, still protecting you after all these years. You lift off your blankets, sniffing the air with confusion. Have your parents knocked something over? Did they need help cleaning it? You pass by the night light in your old room as you make your way to your door, turning the slick handle with a grimace. It was wet, slippery with a liquid that was quickly soaking into your hand. You hesitantly bring it to your nose, taking a small whiff.

You yank your hand away from your face, gagging slightly. There was gasoline on your door, and from the puddle you had stepped through that was now soaking into your socks, it was also covering your floors. You quickly open the door, heading through the hallway while your old night light flickers behind you, sealed in a room of memories about to be destroyed. You desperately rack your brain for reasons the house was soaked in the volatile liquid, your heart pounding into your chest. Every step you took soaked your socks and the bottoms of your pajama pants more, the shiny fluid greedily latching onto you as you ran.

For the first time in your adult life, you throw manners to the window and open your parents door without knocking. Seeing them both lie there in their bed brought a small amount of relief to you, and you quickly cross their room to wake them. Shaking them both in turn makes you start to panic more as neither awakes. You turn on the lamp that sits on the bedside table, casting the room into a dim glow. You lean over and try to move their faces, hoping it would stir them. Taking a small breath for courage, you gently lift one's eyelids like you did when you were younger. All that it did was reveal their rolled back eyes, the white of the sclera being the only thing showing.

Only now you realize how stiff they both are, how the blood in their faces seemed to be traveling to their backs. You finally look at their faces fully, seeing the shut eyed screams they were frozen in. Their necks were badly bruised, the imprints of what looked like chains burned into their skin. Your heart sinks and you step back with a sob, crashing to your knees in your parents room. You don’t mind the cold gasoline soaking into, no longer worrying about the fire that could erupt from a single spark and swallow you whole. Loud sobs and screams leave you, wracking your body as your hands pull at your hair in despair. You were aware of what you needed to do, how you needed to grab the phone on their bedside and call the cops.

Your mind urged you to stand, to take control of the situation and mourn once you were safe, but your body refused. Your hands shook, desperately wanting the comforting touch of your parents and wishing for their hold, but you were stuck in the void of grief. Your world was crashing down around you. With the tears burning your face and the dull ache of your knees, you force yourself to get up and move to the phone, fumbling the power button. It flashes weakly at you, the familiar curse of an empty power bank mocking your troubles. You have every urge to shatter the phone in your hand, to throw it to the floor and watch the glass break to the tune of a hungry spider weaving their web.

You slip it into the pocket of your pajamas instead, knowing the priceless memories this phone had stored in its memory. You may have lost your parents tonight, but you would rather set the house aflame yourself than lose what little memories of them you could salvage. You cross the room once more and go to the other side of the bed, trying to keep your eyes off the still bodies of your parents. You couldn’t help but feel their faces were mocking you, the silent screams morphing into laughter that burned your ears and caused more tears to roll down your cheeks.

You curse loudly when you pick up the other phone to find similar results, quickly covering your mouth with your hand. Even now, you felt bad for cursing in front of your parents, and even worse for cursing in front of the dead. With two phones in your pockets and a heavy heart, you trudge back to your room in hopes to pick up your phone and what little money you had under your bed. Now that there was no one to save, you wanted to get out of the house quickly and keep yourself alive. There would be no murder reported if you died with them, and you refuse to let your parents die in vain.

The door to your room looks more like a portal to hell as you near it, your stomach churning with unease. You push the brightly colored wood in more, flicking on the light as you step in. You jump back when you see Mikey, confusion and worry flashing across your face. He was sitting on your bed, with one foot crossed over the knee and your phone in his hands. The light of the screen lit up his face, and whether he didn’t notice you or he was ignoring you, you couldn’t tell.

“Mikey?” You breathe out, stepping further into your room. His face seemed akin to an angel in the moment, your heart bleeding and desperately calling for the comfort his arms would bring. You rush forward, quickly falling against him as you sob, telling him of your parents while he quietly comforts you.

“I’m sorry, sunshine.” He murmurs, his lips pressing themselves to your forehead. You look up at him, more confusion in your eyes before you start to connect the dots. Mikey was here, and his wrappings smelled so strongly of gasoline it could make you hurl. You try to pull back, but he holds you firm, quiet apologies and reassurances falling from his lips as you scream. He lifts you into his arms, dropping your phone on the ground and cracking it under his feet. You thrash against him as he carries you through the door of your home, lighting it ablaze with his mystic powers that once amazed you.

A crackling blue portal sits at the end of your driveway, and Mikey carries you through, the lair on the other side. You continue to scream and fight in his arms, but Mikey never budges nor falters. His small stature was a ruse, his arms and capabilities stronger than you could ever hope to be.

“It was necessary,” He mumbles, his tone apologetic while he leads you towards the bathroom to clean the gasoline from your skin. He takes no notice of your punches or bites, only hissing when you land a hit to his cheek. “I needed you to stay. If you had something to return to, you’d never settle down.”

You don’t bother to ask what he means, or why he did what he did, only caring to get as far away from him as you could. Mikey continues to hold you down, pressing kisses to your face and whispering soft words in your ears like it would fix the damage he had done. Mikey wasn’t too worried about your fighting, knowing you would come around soon. A burned bridge could always be rebuilt, and Mikey wasn’t afraid of splinters.

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emilybeemartin · 2 months

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Hey so, I just happened across the "the river knows its time" drawing you posted at the end of February; and maybe this is a bit personal but it meant so much to me to see that picture when I did that I had to express my gratitude. I've been Going Through It with stuff related to the fact that I keep having miscarriages and nobody knows why. I lost four before I had my only child back in 2019 (literally a miracle), and lost yet another back in November- my first since getting up the nerve to try again, and it very nearly took me out physically as well as emotionally. It's been a long, exhausting journey of grief, anger, confusion, pain, and fear, and there's been a lot of asking "why?" with no real answers to be had. And with some stuff going on lately for me with testing and doctors and whatnot, it's been extra frustrating and emotional. So seeing that piece, which is so beautiful just as an art piece alone without adding context into it, but knowing the reference too... Idk how to words it right now, I'm getting all weepy again just trying to explain. But thank you. I needed that so much, far more than I realized, and I feel seen, understood, and comforted. Thank you so, so much. <3

I'm sitting here trying to think how to respond, because there don't seem to be any words that are adequate. My whole heart goes out to you, as a mom but also just as someone living in the same world as you. What a truly intimate and devastating form of grief. I'm so sorry for your losses and struggle.

One thing about the Queen's Thief series that I can't say about other book series I read as a child is that it's the only series that has grown with me as I've aged. Whatever juncture I'm at, whether it's navigating childhood friendships, feeling lonely in college, adjusting to new motherhood, or feeling creatively stuck, every re-read seems to unveil something new that helps me makes sense of whatever I'm struggling with. The "river knows its time" line has helped me, too, and for that, of course, we can thank @meganwhalenturner.

All the peace and love to you on your journey, you're not alone.

#tw miscarriage #the queen's thief #megan whalen turner

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wifegideonnav · 2 months

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should i read homestuck. like i feel it would be interesting so i could see what yall are talking about in regards to tlt but is homestuck actually good

"is homestuck good" - the greatest thread in the history of forums, locked by a moderator after 8129 pages of heated debate,

no but seriously, it highkey depends on 1. your definition of good and 2. your tolerance for stupid bullshit. as someone who read tlt and then hs, i'd say that being a fan of the chaotic aspect of tlt is a good predictor of being able to hang in with homestuck.

readmore because this. um. got long. the tl;dr is: i like homestuck a lot and i am glad i read it. i can't tell you if you should read it bc idk your tastes, but there is a lot to like and enjoy about it.

the official pitch for homestuck is something like "4 kids play a game and then a bunch of other shit happens." here's my pitch based on what the core of the story is to me:

several groups of characters across time, space, and reality are brought together in order to succeed at creating a new universe after their own are destroyed. this takes the form of a game, which is called sburb (by the humans) and sgrub (by the trolls). the characters must contend with an eternal battle against good and evil in which they are the deciding factor, and level up while following personalized quests. at its heart, homestuck is about relationships of every sort and how they shape us, growing up and the associated grief and loss, coming into ones identity and choosing who to be, predestination and fate, and stories themselves. it gets very meta at times, and the characters are semi to fully aware that they're characters, and attempt to subvert or escape that. it's got hordes of fleshed out, compelling characters, one of which will almost certainly glom onto you for the rest of your life, real emotion, extremely funny jokes, smart and exciting plotting, and some very cool moments. it more or less invented an entire new genre/medium, and plays with medium in a very cool way.

it is also clunky, hard to get into, and way too convoluted. you will never fully understand what's happening. there are tons of characters whose stories you will follow whom you simply do not care about. there are too many characters. it was written by an edgelord in 2009 so there's some unsavory humor and character writing. it's so fucking long. the ending kinda sucks because the fandom was so toxic that hussie simply wanted it over with. the fandom still kinda sucks tbh. so many people have wrong opinions about it. it requires a very specific lens to approach and understand it. i still dont understand what happened with that fucking puppet someone explain it to me.

overall, i'd say that if you think you want to read it, give it a shot. i have a complicated relationship with it but at the end of the day, i genuinely love the story and the characters and i know they will be with me forever. it certainly enhanced my understanding of tlt, and getting to read more of tamsyn's writing was such a bonus (even though her taste in pairings is. not the same as my own). and like honestly. it's just fun. even when you're going "wait what the fuck just happened" you're having fun. it's really goddamn funny too. it WILL change the way you speak and also think about romance forever.

the best way to read it is to have an experienced reader guide you, but if you or other people don't know anyone like that, here are my basic tips:

i think most people know this already, but download the unofficial homestuck collection. just do it. it's like 4 gigs and it's infinitely better than trying to read on the broken website, and it's even ad free. it can also be modded - for instance ik there's a slur replacer mod (lmao) if you don't want to read those

act 1 sucks to read. you're like what the fuck is this, THIS is homestuck?? the beginning is radically different from how it ends up, so just hang in there. for me, it really picked up somewhere in act 3. just focus on the silly fun the characters are having and you'll be good

things you should actually try to follow in the early acts: the concept of a sylladex existing (the various fetch modi are only there for jokes and eventually just kinda stop being a thing), where all the copies of the game are, what each kid's relationship with their guardian is like, the mechanics of the game and the lore behind it, including classpects and quests

things you do not have to waste brain space on: anything about how the totems work, what the various machines are, what the levels are, basically any of the jokes that would be funny to hussie's original intended audience of software engineers and rpg gamers. oh and the intermission with the midnight crew and the felt, just know that those are guys that exist and you'll be good.

and the biggest tip i have is just. go with it. suspend your disbelief. a lot of the worldbuilding doesn't really make sense, but it would be a worse story if it did. when the time shit and ectobiology come into play, literally just go ok got it and keep going, don't think too hard.

so yeah i don't even know if any of this is useful but i hope it helps you decide. and if you or anyone else have follow up questions send em!

#asks #hs

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melrosing · 1 month

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What if brienne's mom was still alive? How much of her character/story would change? And what do u imagine their relationship would be like? 🧐

sorry for the late reply! I think I’ve written something on this before but im on mobile and i know im never gonna find it so. this is mostly hcs:

for whatever reason I’ve always imagined Brienne’s mother as a quiet, daydreamy person who doesn’t smile much but somehow exudes warmth anyway. Selwyn I imagine as having been a big character in his youth but he turns inwards after the loss of Cyril (my hc name for her) and their children. but anyway they were an odd couple in their youth but it kind of worked

the main thing she and Brienne share is a passion for stories, songs and poetry: I think Brienne gets her romanticism from her mother, and Cyril knows a lot about stormlands folklore etc and Brienne is always eager to hear about. they go on walks about the island together to see supposed sites of magic

otoh i think Cyril would be aware that Brienne looks different to other girls but her approach is just to never comment on it. which is fine at first but hard for Bri in adolescence bc she kind of needs Cyril to say she knows she’s different and that’s fine, but Cyril thinks if she says nothing then Brienne will never even realise

Brienne still would have suffered the insults of someone like Septa Roelle, who is more than happy to tell her precisely the ways she’s different, but she doesn’t want to tell her mother bc she’s scared of Cyril confirming it’s all true so unfortunately that never gets addressed

hc that Cyril living means Selwyn maintains his big personality to a greater extent, and he’s warmer towards Brienne as a result. but he’s often distracted by his role as the Evenstar so Bri doesn’t confide much in him EITHER

you know I guess it all really depends on what kind of person Brienne’s mother was in terms of what impact she would’ve had on Brienne’s story. I think she and Brienne would’ve been warm towards one another but not similar people, so she can’t necessarily heal all of Brienne’s hurts and Renly’s kindness is still enough to drive her to join his train

I don’t picture Cyril trying to stop Brienne leaving, she thinks it’s kind of romantic. but Selwyn being less inward in this AU, he does try to stop her as his only heir and that creates a rift between them. maybe that results in Brienne being more resolute about not returning till she wishes, or less so idk. but in short my hc is that Brienne got away with much of her nonconformity through the emotional absence of Selwyn who is too lost in grief to pay her enough attention

maybe in the least, Brienne doesn’t immediately feel so strongly tied to Catelyn, with whom I think there’s a slightly maternal relationship going on? bc she doesn’t lack a mother, that bond doesn’t feel so urgent as it does in ACOK, for either of them: Brienne subconsciously looking for the presence of a maternal figure, Catelyn missing her own children terribly and especially her daughters

idk hope this helps

#ask #brienne of tarth #cyril swann #selwyn tarth #asoiaf

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sugarwithtea · 1 year

Text

nobody doesn't know anymore | myg

everyone knows, what loneliness can do to a mind. his mind is something that likes to use negatives, if only to complicate his feelings. yoongi is at the edge, thinking about everything that has built him into the man he is. then what is it that he still craves for? nobody doesn't know — because everyone knows it's not him, but his loneliness thinking.

pairing ; no pairing ft. yoongi

rating/genre ; pg // angst, idol au.

wc ; 1.4k

warnings ; thoughts about past, heavy use of metaphors (forgive me), my bad interpretation of people pt 2, hard childhood, inner turmoil, feelings of grief and loss.

note ; i wrote this so quick. people made me think so so so much. and i am in no way saying that this is what he is talking about in the song, so mind me. it's just that this song inspired me to write this. take this as a disclaimer but m not claiming that these are yoongi's thoughts — these are mine. if you understand what I'm trying to deliver, have my kisses please. listen to people pt 2 ft. iu by agust d for that's what compelled me to write this lol. again, this might not make much sense and idk how I've ended it! also, this is unedited hehe. for we die on this hill.

masterlist | taglist

---

Yoongi likes to think he has accomplished a lot in his life, but even that is a lie. And he knows that.

He had a dream when he was in middle school, and the years he had put into achieving it had been lengthy, and stressful. There were stretched moments of happiness too, where he had found himself at peace, proud of himself. But come today and he feels like there's a hole inside him.

He feels hollow. His heart still craves for more.

The dim light of his bedroom falls on his eyes and he breathes easily, taking in the air conditioned air with his eyes fluttering shut.

His mind drifts to his years of being a rebel, always disappointed by the ways of the world, and his lips quirk a little. Oh how foolish he was to think that he will be able to change it, that he will be able to see a place different from the one he has seen. With his eyes closed he shakes his head, thinking about the time he had realized how wrong he was.

The world is not going to change. It has billions of years in the making, and he, a mere man in his twenties, who has hardly seen the depth of the people living in it, has no chance of changing it. People might think he has seen a lot, known a lot, and is familiar with the ways of a lot – but the truth is that his knowledge has always been bound by his interests. He learns about the things he wants to know about, he doesn't go and seek answers for the questions which have never made their way into his mind.

His fingers twitch on his chest. He has always had this innate desire of being at peace. But even now, when he is supposed to feel it, his heart aches for something else. And maybe it's a shot in the dark, but the thought of an emotion that is so raw, but still built with layers of other feelings is what makes him crave for it.

His childhood years were not easy. He hadn't received the love, the support for which he had yearned. He was like a soul treading on, towards the light he had seen at the end of the dark tunnel he was residing in. But after years of his walking in the dark, when he had finally felt the light hit his withered, lifeless skin – he had grimaced and squinted his eyes. It had taken him a long time to get accustomed to that feeling, the raw warmth and the peaceful breeze.

His steps though, they never stopped. He had walked on and on, and had met a few too many travelers on his way, some of them joining him on his journey. Now that he had found the light, he didn't know what he was aiming for. Maybe just sit on the shore he could so clearly see, dip his feet in the sand and have conversations with the ones who had felt him worthy enough to join.

He had reached the shore too, pride swelling in his chest as the sand touched his feet. He had dipped his ankles in the warmth, and had enjoyed the softness. His greed, never ending, had compelled him to walk towards the water, hand in hand with his companion. He had perched himself at the edge, at the line where the warmth of the sand met the cold waves. His feet were no longer dipped in the grains, but in the cold water which washed away any remnants of the warmth he had yearned for.

The calmest of waves, had washed away something he had been wanting for so long. And that had him recoiling from there, leaving his companion's hand and looking back at the water as if he was burned. He was again in the sand, but the grains stuck to his feet, no longer making him feel warm, but irking him. He had run back, forgetting there was someone washing themselves in the waves for him. His selfishness had made him blind, and in his haste he had stumbled and fell on the ground.

That night the tears were thick, rolling down his face like the waves he so despised. For now there was no one to hold his hand and breath his scent – they had already been taken by the calmest of the oceans. The moon in the sky was covered by the clouds, and the only light he saw was a distant lighthouse. But he was tired, and he hated the water, so he made his house on the shore.

Now when he looks out of his window he doesn't see the light, for it had been taken from him the moment he had recoiled from the waves. He thinks he was selfless, because he hadn't brought his partner back, letting them revel in the peace the water provided. But even he knows how wrong he is – how the water did little to ease them, and so much to unnerve them when they saw how it affected him.

He still goes about his day with chivalry. Hoping that someday he will meet someone who will make him feel less lonely.

When he thinks back on that day, he realises he never feared loss, but the dread that came with it. He feared the possibilities, the future that will come with it. Maybe he never truly loved them, but the thought of being alone again was so daunting that he had folded like paper and fell on his knees when he had lost them.

He remembers the sandcastle he had built with them, the one which had been taken down by the calmest of assaults. Later when he had come to terms with the reality of him being alone, he had thought how people were fleeting, how feelings were fleeting. How easy is it to build something with someone, and easier for it to crumble down into nothingness.

So far away, that day, that feeling, that person. Everything is so far away from him, he can do nothing but sigh. When he had though that life was a struggle between revolt and submission, he was wrong. It was a struggle against loneliness. For he had rebelled, and surrendered but never did he understand the true sadness, until he was left alone, all on his own.

With eyes closed and breaths steady, he moves his hand on his bed, searching for his abandoned notebook. He needs to write, or else the calm breaths will turn ragged soon – and he can't risk it again.

On a page, he has already written down some lines. Has also scratched out some lines.

Maybe I didn't recieve enough love

Forever is a sandcastle, even with gentle waves, it collapses without resistance.

He scoffs, rewriting the lines and scratching the ones written before again.

Wasn't loved enough as a kid,

That's why I'm the cautious type.

Forever's something like a sand castle, you know.

It comes crumbling down at the calmest of waves.

He rubs his thumbs on the side of his pen, his tongue peeking out and brows furrowed. It's his countenance when he is in the mode of deep contemplation, and right now he is thinking if he should write about his loneliness or not.

Someone had once told him that a song tells the story the artist wants to say, and it can also communicate with the artist – telling them things they need to hear, not want to. With that in mind, he shakes his head and writes down a few more lines.

The say life's a struggle between resistance and submission.

I say it's a struggle against loneliness.

If you can't hold back, it's okay to cry.

He takes a deep breath before writing down the next line.

You're already more than enough to be loved.

His heart swells at that. Maybe he won't have to battle with himself every day. If he is able to accept that he is capable of being loved, he will come to terms with his future, his present too.

His journey has been fulfilling, he has discovered himself. And his feet land on the floor of his bedroom, thinking that maybe some day, he will have a hand to hold on to, without feeling the guilt that eats at his insides.

Because the greed that he wanted to give up was of no use, and his selflessness only caused him more pain. Maybe this time, he will be selfish, wishing for something which he will never let go. Something which has layers and a string of emotions strung together like a necklace – Love.

Because he knows that everyone knows. And nobody doesn't know anymore, that loneliness has been the root of all his desires.

---

taglist : @jinsquishes @jeonkookiesworld @sailoryooons @jjkeverlast @aliimac @gimmethatagustd @namjoonwhoresworld @apotatomashedbybts @synnfulqt @saweetspoiled @chimchimmarie @sugababylove84 @axigailxo @yoongukie-ff @instabull @graycosco @wobblewobble822 @jungkooksseuphoria @kalea10 @yoongimarryme3 @jminssiii @cowboylikeyoongi @sashs-posts @iwishselena

please reblog, give feedback or comments to lmk your thoughts. it helps tremendously!!

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year

Text

Fic Finder

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1. Not sure if this is ff or itmf, because there is a specific fic I lost, but also just want a general trope. I'm looking for fics where WWX's resentful energy is into/gentle with LWJ, and LWJ welcomes it, like allowed it to touch him, touches back, maybe they use it during sex. It doesn't have to be right away, just him eventually accepting that the resentful energy is an extension of WWX. (Particularly looking for a post 13/16 year fic with this idea and WWX being shocked over how unbothered LWJ is about it, bc he still thinks LWJ hates him. Also something to do with LWJ's scars and the energy making the not hurt? Idk feel free to split this into two asks!)

FOUND? the described story sounds like the anteroom of golden age by everythingispoetry (M, 92k, wangxian, canon divergence, disability, recovery, mental health issues, grief/mourning, hurt/comfort, families of choice, developing relationship) where resentful energy m akes LWJ's scars hurt less, though it's only one event towards the end of a long story which is itself the last of a series!

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2. hello i hope you all are doing great! im looking for a fic where jgy's crimes were exposed in a discussion conference i think. and he was trying to tell jc about the golden core transfer to keep the spotlight off himself but jc already knew and he told the conference himself. im trying to remember the plot but alas. thank you for all you do it's very appreciated ♥️♥️♥️

FOUND! A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes) sounds like it could be narrow bridge. Wei Ying doesn't want to tell JC but Lan Zhan insists and they argue about it. If that sounds familiar? It happens very far into the fic.

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3. A) Hello! Looking for this fic: Just before he dies, Wei Ying sees Lan Zhan being severely injured (really bad wound through the chest). When he resurrects later on, he's certain that Lan Zhan is dead, and he's pissed about it. But Lan Zhan isnt dead, and they find each other. Its a darkish fic with wangxian being quite in love but kind of a murder couple. Lan Xichen is kinda bad here. Meng Yao gets his head chopped off. I cant find it anywhere, it might've been deleted... Help? 😳

B) Looking for this fic: It happens during the Burial Mounds settlement days. Lan Zhan comes to visit. Someone attacks Wei Ying with a spell but Lan Zhan protects him and is hit instead. It starts de-aging him little by little (mentally not physically), taking back a few years at a time. (I think every time he sleeps he loses more years...) Wei Ying takes him back into the settlement as he tries to cure him. Lan Xichen joins them at some point... I can't find it! 😢 @dreammaiden21

3A)

FOUND? you soothe me just to torture me again 🔒 by PrismaticAvocado (M, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dark WWX, Dark LWJ, Dark LSZ, Dark LXC, Dark LQR, jc is honestly not that much darker than in canon if at all, Murder Husbands, Torture, Homophobia, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, almost everyone is bashed somewhat except for wangxian and a-yuan be warned, JC Bashing, WWX Lives, BAMF WWX)

3B)

FOUND! Rosemary and Thyme by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 45k, wangxian, burial mounds settlement days, memory loss, talismans, hurt/comfort, angst w happy ending, fix-it, recovery, panic attacks, fluff)

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4. Hello, I'm looking for a fic where Lan Wangji raises the Lan disciples to express their emotions healthily. I remember it ends after WWX's resurrection with Lan Wangji crying really hard.

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5. hello dear mods im in need of your help again. im looking for a fic where wwx finds his uncles who are his father's brothers, also apparently he comes from a rich family. he's already married to lwj iirc by this time iirc. i can't recall the plot so idk what tag to search or what compilation it's in 😭😭 thank you very much for all you do

hey im 5 on the latest fic finder. sorry but i don't think that's it im pretty sure it's a finished fic. also wwx meets his paternal grandmother but she has dementia iirc. thanks for the suggestion tho

hey #5 again sorry again but that's still not it. T_T the wei clan isn't a cultivator family but a merchant family so wcz was actually rich before becoming a cultivator iirc. and when wwx's uncles found out what happened to wwx they withdrew their business in lanling. also idk if i remember it right but it seemed part of a series? thank you for your efforts i also liked the fics you suggested anyway so it's still a win

NOT FOUND! 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 548k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

NOT FOUND! places under the sky by narie (T, 17k, WangXian, Background Relationships, Canonical Character Death, Family, Found Family, literally but also metaphorically, Funerary Rites, Post-Canon, Family Dynamics, Grief/Mourning)

FOUND! Keep Holding On by abCEE (M, 316k, JC & WWX & JYL, wangxian, canon divergence, role reversal, YLLZ JYL, yunmeng sibling dynamics, good uncle LQR, sunshot campaign, PTSD, established relationship, angst w/ happy ending) wei ying's dad comes from merchants family. He and Lan Zhan and a-yuan visit them. That part was somewhere in the middle of the fic / I don'r remember the specific chapter (i think around 35/36)

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6. Hey there, I'm searching for a wangxian fiction on ao3.... but unfortunately, I don't remember much of it. All that i know is that it is a long fic and that Wei Ying is not hated by the Cultivation world. Wei Ying also gets a title, which is similar to Lan Zhans. It was like the Light Bearer (obviously LZ) and his Light Source (that's the title WY got). Also, they got their happy ending (and I think WYs' relationship to Jiang Cheng was not good at the sunshot campaign :/ ?). Thanks in advance :D

FOUND? I'm Going Out (Gonna Make A Name For Me And You) by cosmicmilktea (T, 16k, wangxian, post-canon, chief cultivator LWJ, Mentor WWX, intersect relations, slow burn, sickness)

FOUND? Light Source by abCEE (M, 31k, wangxian, canon divergence, not Jiang friendly, fall of lotus pier, no golden core transfer, sunshot campaign, established relationship, canon-typical violence, medical inaccuracies, no demonic cultivation, accidental baby acquisition)

FOUND? Light of Stars (and the Destroyer) by Sanguis (T, 22k, WangXian, Legends, Arranged Marriage, Pining for your spouse, Adoption, Canon Divergence, Married Couple)

FOUND? 🧡 the river brought you here by chilianxianzi (Not Rated, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, POV Outsider, Amnesia, Past abuse, Strangulation, Found Family) I think the fic is - The River Brought You Here. (Feng Huo, Beacon)

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7. Hello! I'm hoping you and all your lovely followers can help me, but I think the fic I'm looking for has been deleted.

The title was something like Happiness is peeing your pants, and the author something like wwx_sparkles, but I don't think I'm spelling the author's name correctly. The fic was about Emperor!LWJ and guard!WWX, who drank too much the night before, and needs to borrow the emperor's chamber pot. Sexy times ensue.

If anyone knows the fic or the author, or has a copy, I'd be very grateful! Thanks for all your hard work, this blog is a treasure ♥️

I’ve got bad news for you; w_wxsparkles has left the fandom, deleted their AO3 account, and emptied their Twitter. If you persevere, that story (and you got the title right) is available on the Wayback Machine.

the work number was #28129026. https://archiveofourown.org/works/28129026

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8. Hi! I'm looking for an Ao3 one shot that takes place after wwx's death. It's about how Jiang wanyin and lan wangji need to stay away from each other during conferences. It all started when jiang wanyin made a comment about lan wangji's robes saying he looks like he's mourning his wife. And it set off lan wangji and he seriously aimed to hurt jiang wanyin for that comment. I remember he swung at a pillar and collapsed it. He only stopped because Lan shizui called out to him. TYIA!

FOUND! Better than a Mouthful of Blood by mondengel (T, 1k, gen) and it is locked to archive accounts

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9. I watched wangxian toxic lover FF video in YouTube I want read this ff please can you search the ff story I'm try find this story but never find it's request please can you find

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10. Hi! Thank you for all your help in finding all these good fics! I've found so many excellent stories based on your recs and findings ❤️ If it's not too much trouble, could you please find a fic in which wei ying was faking his orgasms and lan zhan found out bcs he walked in on wei ying? Thank you

NOT FOUND! Wei Wuxian’s Shameless revenge, a Tumblr comic by @pakhnokh, elaborated in The Sweetest Morsel to the Mouth That Ever Was Cooked in Hell by Silvarbelle (E, 14k, wangxian, Mojo’s post)

NOT FOUND! Lie Back and Think of Yunmeng by sophie_448 (E, 8k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Observed Consummation, Dubious Consent, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, A/B/O Dynamics, Boypussy, Vaginal Sex, ambiguous historical fantasy setting, referenced Wei Ying/others for ~educational purposes, Faked orgasms, chastity examination)

FOUND! if there ever was a perfect couple this one qualifies by wildwestwind (E, 4k, wangxian, F/M, gender changes, smut, anorgasmia, rope bondage, consensual non-con, gentle dom LWJ, lack of communication, fluff) this is maybe left field since it is a m/f fic but the description reminded me a lot of this one

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11. Do you know the title of a fic where Wei Ying changes into a woman due to a pill he took from a black dog that was frozen in an array. It took him back in time and he decided to help the sunshot compaign from the sideline so no one knew of the demonic cultivator. He runs into lan Zhan who realizes it’s Wei Ying and follows after him. Wei Ying claims ayuan as his son. I’ve read it before but have lost it. Thank you in advance for any help! @minniemickey1987

FOUND? 今非昔比 Jīn fēi xī bǐ by XieJianRou (Not rated, 119k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, fem WWX)

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12. Here am I bothering you guys again, lol. I'm looking for a fic that takes place in a world where people are decided as doms and subs. I think that Lwj was a dom and Wwx a sub. Wwx is having a sub drop at the burial mounds, so Wq sends a letter to Lwj so he can go help get Wwx out of the dropping. Some misunderstanding happens, and it ends with Lwj having a dom drop, but wwx doesn't notice and sends Lwj away, but Wq noticed Lwj was dropping, and when she found out Wwx sent him away, she scolded Wwx and told him to go find Lwj before something bad happened with him.

FOUND? A Gesture of Companionship by Khashana (E, 5k, wangxian, bdsm au, burial mounds settlement days, dub con, spanking, scratching, no lube, inappropriate use of gusu lan ribbon, sex pollen vibes, fuck or severe consequences, going nonverbal, sub drop, top drop, angst w happy ending)

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13. I have completely lost track of a fic, and I hope you guys can find it for me since I have given up. So it was a War prize wangji fic, though I don't remember if it was tagged that or not. It was actually primarily in LXC's pov. Everyone was at a conference in Lanling, and LXC had heard a bunch of horrible rumors about what LWJ was supposedly suffering, but then wangxian came in looking swag af, and LXC kept checking over and staring at LWJ to assuage himself of the worry when LWJ looked fine. Then there was a bit where NMJ got sat at the table with them in a Jin attempt to provoke him or WWX into trouble, and it failed. Then there was a break, and everyone went shopping, and WWX kept going on and on about LWJ and everyone by the end of it realized WWX was a dork and stupid in love with LWJ. I think this was multi chapter? But that's everything I can remember.

Thank again for your help!

Asker from 13 on ff, it is not Love, in fire and blood. Like I said, the fic was entirely from LXC's pov and at no point did it switch to or from that. It also entirely takes place at a banquet. Other scenes I remember is that when LWJ and WWX appeared, LWJ was described to have a long train on his coat, later during the banquet LXC makes note that LWJ is eating some chicken that WWX had put on his plate and that LWJ's cheeks look chubby since he'd last seen him. WWX had also never met NMJ before.

I don't remember if it was a long one shot or a chaptered fic, but if it was chaptered it wasn't very many, like 4 or 5.

NOT FOUND! love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, Bottom LWJ, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, Bottom LWJ) might be "Love, In Fire And Blood" It is a war prize au and when wangxian re-enter society they are both dressed to the nines (LWJ notably not wearing his Lan whites) and there is a focus on Xichen being worried for his brother. But the whole fic is not from Xichen's perspective.

FOUND! Cessation by devinokaze (T, 6k, wangxian, canon divergence, YLLZ WWX, fluff, LXC pov)

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14. Hello fic finder, I don't know if you are still finding fics but i've been trying to find a wangxian fic where wei wuxian was raised by his mother cangse sanren and sends a letter to the cultivation saying she is coming down the mountain. Lan Zhan and Wei Ying meet in a forest and end up adopting Xue yang, Moxuanyu, and A yuan. Meng Yao is cangse sanrens disciple in this fic and wen ruohan isn't causing trouble. Wuxian cross dresses in this fic and its not jiang friendly. Please can you help me

FOUND? Resplendence by FrozenMarVel (E, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JC/LXC, different first meetings, love at first sight, fluff, rogue cultivator WWX, crossdressing, flirting, fix-it of sorts, smut, WIP)

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15. Hi! I wanted to ask about a fic where lwj wakes up one morning and sees wwx sitting on the floor, crying, wearing the same clothes he was wearing the previous night because he found all the letters lwj wrote to him in those 13 years and read them. I read smth like that and forgot the name😭 @angrybagginshieldbakery

FOUND? no better version of me by idrilka (E, 8k, WangXian, Established Relationship, Love Letters, Tender Sex)

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16. Hi, I'm looking for a fic, the only thing I remember was that (due to time travel shenanigans perhaps?) WWX was absent for the investigation and fight of the waterborne abyss and as a consequence LWJ died. I think WWX only found out about it a long time later. Does anyone remember this fic? Thank you! A big thank you also to the mods for putting in the time to manage this blog!

I've read #16! I think it was caused by LXC going back in time, he could only change one thing, and decided that LWJ and WWX shouldn't become close, and so doesn't let WWX and JC come with them to fight the abyss. He then goes back to the future only to learn that LWJ died.

FOUND! Alternative Choices by StarClearWaters (Readoutloud) (T, 20k, wangxian, LXC/WQ, pov LXC, protective LXC, time travel, temporary character death, butterfly effect, mpreg, panic attacks)

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17. Hi! I'm actually looking for 2 fics! A) is LZ goes to burial mounds w/WY the lan elders start arguing through rules on a mountain with LZ eventually WY gets involved. B) is LZ had left the lan for a few years(?) and the elders, LX,&LQ try to get him to come back- the fic focuses on rules and how LZ breaks them, like it mentions him braiding beads into his hair and i also remember that LZ & WY had a wagon full of children! I love all the work you all put in on this blog! LOTS OF LOVE @chubbypotato23

17A)

FOUND? A War of Stone and Silence by kitsunealyc (T, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Burial Mounds, Lans Being Crappy Communicators, Wall of Discipline, Remix)

17B)

FOUND? Unpack your heart by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (T, 22k, wangxian, 1st in series, canon divergenec, romance, everyone lives au, LWJ stays at Burial Mounds, not lan elder friendly) the part they remember starts in chapter 3

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18. hey! im looking for a modern fic where i believe wwx is married to mm and he meets lwj later.. they have an affair of sorts?? cheating was one of the tags i think. it was around 15-25k, angsty but a happy ending.. thats all i got lol. Thank you for your help!!!

FOUND? We Take Our Vows Seriously by JJSIN2020 (E, 30k, WangXian, Modern AU, LWJ is Married, WWX is not, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, emotional comfort not in your spouse, Eventual Smut, Lime spritzers, that's the drink, too bad if you don't like them)

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19. Fic finder request, please! 🙂 A modern au where WWX had created a security pc program and was pretty rich. He lives with the wens and is friends with NMJ and NHS and gets spooked early into his relationship with LWJ and runs away to hide in a hotel room. No one can find him until NHS bribes a restaurant worker and then convinces WWX to go back.

FOUND! Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, wangxian, modern, slow burn, kid fic, found family, it gets worse before it gets better, PTSD, blood and injury, dissociation, trauma, angst w happy ending, musicals, alternating pov, JC & WWX reconciliation, hurt/comfort, panic attacks) the scene described is in chapter 10

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20. Hi! I’m looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian travels back in time to the Cloud Recesses and immediately tried to kill himself by jumping into the river in the Cloud Recesses. He survives and then there is a scene where he uses some sort of empathy to show Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang what happened to him that lead to home being there. I would appreciate help finding it, though I understand if you are too busy

FOUND? Without end by barisan (M, 70k, wangxian, major character death, time travel, suicide attempt, hurt/comfort, depressed WWX, protective LWJ, good uncle LQR, bad parents JFM & YZY, not YZY & JFM & Jiang friendly, implied/referenced child abuse & self harm, BAMF WWX, WIP)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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ashintheairlikesnow · 1 year

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how do you stop missing someone, especially when they arent really gone gone you just aren't in each others lives anymore and neither of you can go back to how it was in the before times recent community grief got me thinking and im sorry if youre not the person to ask but idk maybe you have thoughts?

So, I have this friend who just went through a pretty nasty divorce. And even before the separation and the filing, the man she married and the man she was currently married to were not the same person. This man had changed in only a few years, and not for the better. He had spent time in some pretty gross places and picked up some pretty gross ideologies, and he treated her pretty terribly. She filed for divorce, and then one day asked me, "If he is so terrible to me, why do I keep feeling like leaving him is like someone died?"

And my response to her was honestly more or less a paraphrase of something I had read in a book after my dad died that was about grief and got into grief that isn't necessarily caused by a death, but instead a separation of people for any number of reasons. Could be immigration takes you so far away from each other that you don't have the ability or money to visit, it can be a divorce, it can be cutting off toxic parents that you still love, it could be the loss of a friendship... Any number of things.

So what I told her was when you lose someone, you don't necessarily have to lose them to death to feel like you have lost connection to a life.

My friend wasn't mourning the loss of a man who treated her like shit. She was grieving the loss of the man she had originally married, the man she fell in love with, the man she dated. And she was grieving the loss of the future she had pictured having with him.

That's grieving a life lost.

I have lost a few people in this way. Sometimes to a conflict, sometimes to simply losing touch over time. The funny part is that I still sometimes have dreams where I'm just hanging out with them. Or in the case of an old boyfriend, I sometimes have dreams even now about apologizing for some of the things I did and hearing him apologize for some of the things he did. That conversation is never going to happen, not through any fault of either of our own, it just isn't. But the mind still wants things to wrap up, it wants to be able to categorize events and people and places in our lives and file them neatly away.

Life is too messy for that.

What has worked best for me, and it may not work for you but for me... I allow the grief and the mourning. I make space for it. I acknowledge that it's real and it's not lesser than other forms of grief just because it isn't necessarily as permanent. Pain is pain, and this isn't Sadness Olympics.

So for me, being able to think about it and work it out and go over what happened and what I'm sad about helps me because I'm not repressing and pushing it down, which only makes me dwell on it. Instead, I might notice something and think, Dustin would really like this song. And then feel a moment of melancholy for the conversations we never got to have. And then I move on.

If the loss is fresh, acknowledge that it's fresh, and that it's going to take a while to feel any better than you do right now about it.

It will stop being a fresh loss. But it may still come to mind from time to time, and that's okay, that's normal. Grief and loss are not linear. They are circles, they are rivers, they wind around and double back on themselves. They come in waves, they come in hailstorms, they come in the tide making its inexorable way up or down, they come sometimes in droughts.

Sometimes it can help if you have someone to talk to about it, or just write down what you're feeling even if you never show those writings to anyone else. Make space for the feelings, make space for the thoughts. Play music that resonates with how you feel, read books that fit the mood, maybe draw pictures. Just let your brain do what it will with the emotions.

It helps me. I don't know if it would help you.

But those are my thoughts.

#grief #ask ash something and she'll answer #ash rambles

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no-sleep-for-insomniacs · 3 months

Text

Something I wrote based on my experience with schizophrenia, might turn it into a whole thing

note: this is a self insert, it’s not technically from Toby Rodgers pov, but if you wanna read it from his pov that’s fine. Just know if I keep writing this he’ll probably get introduced as an actual character.

cw: idk… fear?

You lay in the bathtub frozen in place, waiting for something to happen. You’ve been like this for about an hour, paralyzed by the fear of what was on the other side of the curtain. You didn’t know what it was exactly and you weren’t to keen on finding out. All you knew was that if you moved even a centimeter, if you made any noise, if you let the sound of the water pouring from the shower head and hitting the floor of the tub change even in the slightest, then you would be viciously mauled then left to die.

You didn’t want your roommates to find you like that, so you waited. Waited for something, anything to happen to distract the monster behind the curtain. You had started loosing circulation in your right leg about ten-ish minutes ago, being in that position for so long you were surprised it hadn’t started sooner.

You realized you could feel that thing breathing on your neck. It’s sticky breath was making your shoulder damp. From the way it was panting, loud and heavy, you could tell it had a large snout, most likely filled to the brim with sharp teeth that were just waiting to tear out your intestines. You wondered what the beast looked like, lurking so close but just out of sight. You closed your eyes and tried to see if you could feel it’s presence in the room, trying to get a glimpse of what would be the cause of your premature demise.

You were right before about it’s snout, long and scaly, a genuinely horrific sight. Filled with large fangs and an excessively slimy tongue, drooling over the smell of you no doubt. And God it’s fur, matted and hanging from its rotting flesh. You could smell it, the scent of death being wafted up into your nose with the steam coming from the hot water washing over your body and onto the floor of the tub.

Glancing over at your leg, you saw it had started turning white from loss of circulation. You knew you had to move it if you wanted to be able to walk later, if there even was a later. You tried to move your leg ever so slightly, trying not to make any noise. So far so good, if you could just move a little more you would be able to regain some blood flow. Shifting slowly, you froze, hearing the noise of the water grow louder.

In seconds, a rush of emotions washes over your mind; fear, grief, terror. You sense the beast move closer, slowly creeping forward, hunting you. It presses its snout against the curtain, inhaling deeply through its nose, smelling you. It lazily opened its jaws, taunting you.

It leans in, pushing the curtain with it, its rows of teeth ready to devour you. You’ve accepted this, you’re ready to die.

“Toby? You good?” Tim called, and suddenly it was gone. The behemoth that had been terrorizing you for the past hour, just… disappeared.

I’ll probably keep writing this later but I wanted to put it somewhere till then

please reblog, don’t repost

#Schizophrenia #adolescent schizophrenia #childhood schizophrenia #self insert #tim wright marble hornets #ticci toby #toby rodgers #marble hornets self insert #Creepypasta self insert #Horror #ticcimask

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muzzleroars · 9 months

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The song/piece "13 angels sitting guard 'round the side of your bed" reminds me of you fallen gabe Au especially with the archangels. It especially came to mind when is saw your most recent Micheal (I think I spelled that wrong) drawing.

I'm also curious on how it would go when the other archangels would react when they saw what Michael had done to himself (once again sorry if I'm spelling that wrong) or what Gabe would think when he saw Micheal like that.

And a side side note I like to think if Michael ever came to term with his situation he would show his wounds a lot more with his dress. Initially hiding them but eventually embracing them

(and would you mind if I drew what I was imagining?)

Thank you for your time! Love your art!

(see this!)

oooohhh that song is absolutely beautiful and haunting....immaculate vibes in general but just right for michael tbh idk how to describe it properly, but the sound as well as the album title feel like an echo of something holy, which is exactly what he is at this point. he is the ruination of god's kingdom made incarnate, he is so inextricably tied to it that this was almost inevitable in a sense - with the collapse of god's universe in his absence, michael would always have to follow suit because of how fully he gave himself to it. and when destruction didn't come, he enacted it himself and now he decays with the world.

all three of the archangels respond in their own way to seeing michael again, though grief is the obvious throughline for each of them. i think they all kind of....knew that michael hasn't been okay for a majority of his existence, that the war in heaven left some part of him broken, but that couldn't be spoken about nor would michael admit to it anyway. seeing him now, however, shows how deep those cracks ran, how the loss of god was truly impossible for michael to cope with when his only stability was tied to following his law to its letter. and to see him insist that this is still god's doing, to hear when he expresses to them his joy, his rapture at being kept in god's grace despite what he had done is deeply, disturbingly wrong - nothing in his tone or movement expresses that joy, his voice is flat and distant, his body noticeably still. he says he was saved from his fall, saved from death, like he can't see how much worse this is. like he doesn't want to see.

raphael’s emotions are highly charged yet highly mixed – he openly weeps upon his initial shock wearing off and he begs michael to be healed, to forget everything else he came back for. he is dying, he is rotting away, he needs help, he needs so much help as raphael’s heart breaks and he sobs as the healer who was failed. michael had seen as much pain as gabriel had, had been torn open in battle countless times, but raphael had always been there to stitch him back together. look now, as his flesh decays and he stinks of mold, raphael sees a sickness he doesn’t understand, a deterioration he can’t fix. yet when michael describes what he's done, when he relates how he severed his own light to serve god, raphael actually feels a burning anger burst in his chest that rarely takes hold of him just beside his despair. he did this...to himself. it's a terrible thing and the guilt he feels at his own fury nearly overwhelms him, how selfish it is when michael suffers so much, but he can't let go of it. because they have suffered too, they've gone through so much without him there - he was meant to be their leader, he was meant to take care of them. and now he comes back like this, his body eaten away and with gabriel already lost. yet raphael can't grieve anymore, he can't let anyone else in heaven die and let any more go to ruin...so he stays close by michael's side to desperately apply curative magic with little effect, like the futile, harried attempts to resuscitate a long dead corpse (michael tells him there is no need – why does he fear god’s works or seek to improve them?)

uriel – who awoke upon gabriel’s death but now suffers with severe fatigue and continues to pass out unexpectedly – is deeply distressed, stricken silent between michael’s level voice and raphael’s miserable, despairing sobs. he is still somewhat disoriented, thinking over and over that he’s simply trapped in a nightmare and that he just must weather it as he always has in the centuries he’s spent dreaming. he obeys michael’s orders quietly, raphael begging for his help but he keeps believing if he complies this will pass, this can’t truly be michael. it’s not michael, just a bad dream. but following him into battle against gabriel forces him to come to terms with this being reality, that this is what he woke to. he copes by attempting to understand what’s happened to michael, what went wrong, and if he can convey that to him in a way that might salvage something of his mind. this is not god’s work, god would never do such a thing to one as loyal as michael. he is trapped in death, and uriel seeks to make him acknowledge that, to finally let his pain out even if it’s far too late now. yet at the same time, he is overwhelmed in the existential grief of what it must be like to be michael now, knowing michael’s words are hollow and said only to protect his mind from confronting what he is, and in some ways...it’s cruel to try to force that understanding. uriel knows this, and if michael wasn’t determined to bring so much suffering onto gabriel as a result, he might just have let michael believe all the lies he tells himself. it could be god, he could let him pray for the hours a day he does if that could comfort him in his horrific, unspeakable state. but he is destructive and uriel wants to lead him back to reality as it is.

gabriel experiences a mirrored pain to michael’s – in the same way michael thinks of gabriel’s fall as his fault, gabriel sees michael’s current state as his own. michael, always so dogmatic, so unforgiving, so defined by god he felt more like his shadow than an angel in his own right, had only ever been saved from his own self-destruction by gabriel’s tempering. he counseled michael when he was going too far, knew better than even the others that michael was dealing with unending grief from lucifer’s fall...and gabriel protected him from that. seeing his body rotted open, seeing how he has finally given everything and ruined himself so catastrophically, leaves gabriel in unbearable mourning. michael, upon their reunion, seems so righteous, that his body is a gift from god and that gabriel simply can’t understand that now as a sinner in hell. he feels no pain, he grows new life upon himself, his halo still crowns his head in its glory...yet for all his words, gabriel hears the same reasoning michael has always used, just twisted to its extremes. everything about him is extremes, warped into a zombie’s body without the mind to match. gabriel cries for him, begs him to see beyond his pain, his regret...begs him to see that everything he did was because he worshiped and loved god so much more than anyone else. it’s admirable, it’s still beautiful of him, and he doesn’t need to hate what he is now. he is a reflection of his service, he sacrificed so much more than any other angel in all of heaven. please. see how beautiful that is. no, gabriel wishes it had never happened, he wishes michael knew he never had to hurt himself so, but it was his love that led him there, his love of god and all of heaven. please, come back. please find peace in that. gabriel wants michael to heal from this, whatever that looks like, but he fears he may be too far gone to do that.

(like i said, i am INCURABLY attached to happy endings, and i do like something. adjacent to that for michael. i don’t think he’s working his way out of his depression and he continues to be incredibly withdrawn, but i do like him reconnecting somewhat with his siblings, including gabriel (who’s actually the most adamant about helping him). he would be very private about his body at first still, even with his brothers, but i really love the idea of each of them offering their own jewelry for him so he can decorate himself in all their colors. it makes him a little more open with it over time, wanting them to see how deeply grateful he is for their gifts. additionally, raphael assists him by creating new preservative magic for him even if he can’t reverse the decomposition that’s already occurred. raphael starting his career as the first mortician in heaven)

#i think he would spend a lot of time in their gardens #like a part of him wants to be buried there #he's not the same as he even was before but #he can have a little brightness again despite it all #(a lot of like. destroying yourself for someone else and how that's a terrible thing to suffer)#(but you can't hate yourself for doing it and instead find forgiveness to understand it's not your fault)#IM EMOTIONAL. MAYBE.#OH and absolutely ok with anything you want to draw!!! in fact i would love it uwaahhh #cake answers #fallen gabriel #michael #raphael #uriel #rise and fall au

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