#but you know: something about learning to love and accept your younger self it's been a good exercise for me to come full circle

[charmwasjess]

You choose which sparks joy.

Post a screenshot of one of your favorite comments

Tell us your favorite thing to drink when you write

Tell us your favorite thing to snack on when you write

What trope have you not written yet, but want to?

Which fic would you most like to have fan art done for?

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I'll take 1, thanks! :D :D

This comment on Sitting in the Dark is so special to me because of course, it’s one of the first comments I got on the first chapter of my first fic I’d posted in, uh, fifteen years…but also because @readalong is a dear friend with whom I’d fallen out of touch over the years since I left the fandom -- like a talk frequently, write together, occasionally even hang-out-in-person friend. So it meant not only did I get a nice comment (and Peeks leaves the BEST comments) but also that I got back in touch with someone who is important to me.

So far, I’d say…. 3-4 previous readers of my kiddo-era stuff have found my new account, and pointed out that they recognized me. The pre-prequels era is a small world and my username isn’t that different, but it’s still always a funny, emotional moment for me when that happens.

[thementalshawty]

PAC Your FS’s Vibe

So hello again the ghost is reappearing sorry to my babies, work is heavy and wearing me out I work at FedEx y’all. Package handling heavy ass boxes everyday for the week! I’ve been worn out, but that don’t mean ion love you guys and I feel like shit for not being more consistent. So I’m back with a quick PAC reading so you can get a quick little vibe of your FS just something to tickle your fancy. If you’d like more material and details even readings every month join my patreon which shall be featured on the bottom of this reading! REMEMBER! This is a GENERAL reading so take everything lightly and let the rest flow to another thank you. Let’s begin shall we.

VIBE 1:

VIBE 2:

VIBE 3:

VIBE 4:

VIBE 1:

You Got The DEATH card. So your FS regardlesss of gender is intense! They’re Scorpionic! They may be a Scorpio or have Scorpio in their natal chart. They’ve been through a lot of transitions and changes, some of them could’ve been surrounded by a lot of death actual people dying around them, so I’m hearing they may not get close to people they feel everyone they love dies type shit. This person is hella strong and mysterious, they have a lot of admires I’m hearing the word smolder so maybe they do that with their eyes. Something about their eyes stand out 👀 They know how to make people swoon. They will have you always giggling and rolling their eyes, you’ll always be trying to figure them out. Everyday is new and exciting with them you just feel so eager to learn about them, they’re enticing I’m hearing. They look good and they give me vampire vibes some lestat, and others Louis from interview with a vampire show on AMC and not money or anything just their swagger and vibe. Some even looks. They’re very serious to they take no shit and they’re not the ones to mess with! They’ve been through some shit I’m feeling. Also looks good in hoodies or wears a lot of them. A boogie with the hoodie vibes too for some reason. By

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Vibe 2:

HOLY FUCC You Guy Got The SUN ☀️! Your FS is very Sunny, upbeat, positive and full of energy! They like to see the brighter side to everything! Half glass full type of energy! The sun is very masculine energy so they can be masculine irregardless of gender. They are so happy and they just want everyone around them to be happy too, very innocent vibes too I’m getting youthful so they can be younger than you are or just makes you feel young too, I also get they look younger than they are. They have come full circle in their lives, I feel they have struggled, begged and pleaded in their life and now they’re finally doing things their way and they couldn’t be happier with it. They’re very self aware I feel! They know about their good shit and bullshit and if they’re not working on it or haven’t it’s cos they’re at peace with it and who they are and I feel they are so motivational and supportive to those around them! The cheerleader of their group. They want to see everyone win! I think they are Leo dominant or have Leo in their chart. Loud and proud very prideful so that can be an issue! They treat themselves like royalty, they may live in a warm place, they may like to lay out in the sun. They may have blonde hair some of them, longer too esp if it’s a feminine. This person is just awesome their vibe is so lit I love them already they just want to smile and have a good time! They have gotten lucky so many times in their life I feel they’re very a happy go lucky kinda person, they’re a joy to be around! Warm, loving, accepting, embracing I’m hearing they’re like a hug!

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

Vibe 3: You Got The Star ⭐️! So I’m seeing your FS has got very healing energy and vibes going on, they’re very inspirational and people go to them for advice and hope. This person always tries to help others and uplift them. Motivational speaker right here! I’m feelin like for some not all! Your FS is a celebrity, they could have star power if anything, locally known. Your FS is the type to wish upon a shooting star! They’re incredibly sweet and loving the type to adopt animals and kids even! They believe in the betterment of the world and the planet, man in the mirror by Michael Jackson is what I’m hearing they are basically too good for this fucking world! They are such an angel on this earth people feel lucky just to be in their presence! They are humanitarians! They philosophical too, brown hair for some, they can be an Aquarius or have Aquarius in their chart. They keep their heart open to faith. Not religious well some are but they do hold strong faith everything works out for the best.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Vibe 4: Aww You Got The Knight of Cups. Your FS is so sweet, they’re loving, passionate and creative asfcc! They’re an artist, they can be a water sign. Cancer & Pisces most likely! They are so beautiful too I feel they look really cute! They have can have tattoos. They hella romantic they want love! This person has style too hella swag 😆. They are the type to write love letters and songs for you, to create a beautiful picnic and surprise you for a date. They are the pursuer. Big dreams! They follow their heart, sometimes they don’t connect their mind and they need too, they’re hella emotional but it’s balanced and controlled. They are the type to woo you, sweep you off your feet! They will court you! This person has a big heart. Your white knight! They are the type to go save their homie at 6am in the morning and they’re still in sleep mode. They don’t care they are down and I feel since it’s cups they just flow too, they aren’t really against pushing against the current, they can probably play guitar some of them. They’re an Angel and they love hard!

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

Well

That’s all you guys I hope you liked it and it resonated I promise imma try to be better also if you’d like to join my patreon we have unlimited openings lol the link is here!

THANK YOU GUYS LOVE YA!!

[urdreamydoodles]

im assuming you're taking requests, so I will bring you Scott, Logan, Jean, Ororo, Charales, Erik with a young kid reader who has a very power mutation and is an omega level mutant, and is now at the mansion because they parents didn't want them

X-Men x Kid!Reader

Their relationship with you—a omega-level mutant

After being abandoned by your parents due to your dangerous omega-level mutation, you arrive at the Xavier Institute, where a X-Man take you under their wing. They help you navigate the overwhelming potential of your powers, becoming mentors and parental figures as they guide you toward self-acceptance and control.

Characters: Scott Summers, Logan Howlett, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Charles Xavier & Erik Lehnsherr

Of course I take requests, don't hesitate to ask again love ♡ And thanks for the idea, I hadn't planned on writing for a Kid!Reader soon but you motivated me to do it. — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

When you first arrived at the mansion, Scott was the one who greeted you. As a leader, he had taken on the responsibility of welcoming new students, especially those who might be difficult to place. But when he learned that you, a young child, had been abandoned by your parents due to your dangerous mutation, something in him softened. He saw a reflection of his younger self in you—alone, scared, and confused about your powers. He was quiet at first, observing you as you sat in the mansion’s common room, staring out the window, your small form dwarfed by the large surroundings. You didn’t speak much either, afraid of being rejected again.

Scott had been through so much with his own powers, especially as someone whose mutation had caused harm in the past. He understood how overwhelming it could be, especially for a child. He approached you cautiously, always careful not to seem too intrusive. "Hey," he said softly, kneeling to be at eye level with you. "I know things are hard right now, but we’re here to help. You're safe here."

At first, you didn’t believe him. How could anyone help with something as destructive as your mutation? But Scott never pushed you, never forced you to talk about it until you were ready. Days turned into weeks, and little by little, Scott became the constant figure in your life. He would check on you every morning, sitting with you during meals when you felt too shy to sit with the other students. He’d take you to the Danger Room, not for training, but to show you that your powers didn’t define who you were.

As time passed, Scott began teaching you how to control your mutation, sharing his own struggles with his optic blasts and how Professor Xavier had helped him. He showed you that even though your mutation was powerful, it could be harnessed for good. The bond between the two of you grew, and Scott became a father figure in your life, guiding you through the complexities of being an omega-level mutant. Whenever you felt overwhelmed, Scott was always there, his calm and steady presence reassuring you that you were never alone.

The more time you spent together, the more you came to see Scott as not just a mentor but as someone who truly cared for you. He would bring you small gifts—a book he thought you’d like, or a new pair of shoes when he noticed yours were wearing out. He’d sit with you at night when nightmares of losing control over your powers haunted your sleep. Over time, Scott became the person you trusted most, the one who saw past your dangerous mutation and saw you as a person—someone worth loving and protecting.

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

Logan wasn’t known for being a nurturing figure, but when Charles asked him to keep an eye on you, he couldn’t say no. When you arrived at the mansion, a young kid with a mutation that even the other mutants found intimidating, Logan saw the fear in your eyes. It reminded him of his own past—how he’d been treated like a monster because of his powers. But he didn’t approach you immediately. He watched from a distance at first, letting you get comfortable in your new environment.

You were quiet, withdrawn, and understandably scared of hurting someone with your powers. Your parents had abandoned you, and that kind of rejection left deep scars. But Logan understood that. He knew what it was like to be rejected for something you couldn’t control. Slowly, he began to approach you, always in his gruff, no-nonsense way. "Kid," he’d say, catching your attention one afternoon while you sat alone in the garden. "You hungry? Come get something to eat."

At first, you were hesitant around him. Logan’s rough exterior and gruff voice made him seem intimidating, but over time, you began to realize that beneath all of that was someone who genuinely cared. He didn’t coddle you, didn’t treat you like you were fragile. Instead, he treated you like a person, not just a child. He would take you with him on walks through the woods surrounding the mansion, teaching you survival skills and how to listen to the world around you. Logan wasn’t the type to sit down and talk about feelings, but in his own way, he helped you understand that your mutation didn’t define you.

As your bond grew, Logan became more protective of you. He’d take you out to train, showing you how to defend yourself—not just with your powers, but with your fists. He wanted you to be strong, to not rely solely on your mutation. "There’s more to you than just that," he’d tell you, his tone gruff but kind. "You’ve got a brain, kid. Use it."

Logan was never one for emotional speeches, but his actions spoke louder than words. He’d be there when you had nightmares, sitting silently by your side until you fell back asleep. He made sure you had everything you needed, even if that meant going out in the middle of the night to get you something. Over time, you began to see Logan as a father figure, someone who, despite his rough edges, loved you in his own way. He was the one who taught you that you were more than just your powers, and for that, you loved him back.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

When Jean first saw you, she sensed the fear and confusion swirling around you like a storm. You were so young, yet your powers were immense, dangerous even, and you didn’t have the control to handle them yet. Jean understood what it was like to carry the weight of powers that felt too big for you. She’d been there once, and she knew how terrifying it could be. So, from the moment you stepped foot into the mansion, Jean made it her mission to help you.

Jean was gentle with you from the start, never pushing you to open up too soon. Instead, she made sure you knew she was always there, a comforting presence in the chaos of your new life. She’d sit with you during meals, smiling softly, encouraging you to try new foods or talk about your day. "You’re not alone in this," she’d say, her voice calm and reassuring. "We’ve all been where you are. It’s okay to be scared."

The first time your powers flared up, it was in the middle of the night. You had a nightmare, and your mutation spiraled out of control, shaking the entire mansion. Jean was there within seconds, her own powers calming the chaos around you. She sat beside you, her arms around your trembling form, whispering soothing words until the storm inside you calmed. "It’s okay," she’d murmur softly. "I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you."

Jean became the mother figure you had never known. She was patient, always understanding that your powers were tied to your emotions. She spent hours with you, teaching you how to meditate, how to center yourself, and how to control the overwhelming power you carried. She shared her own experiences with you, telling you about the times she had lost control of her abilities, and how she had learned to harness them with time and practice.

The more time you spent with Jean, the more you grew to trust her. She was the one you went to when you were scared, the one who held you when the weight of your mutation became too much. Jean was always there, offering comfort, guidance, and love. She never saw you as a danger, even when your powers flared up unexpectedly. Instead, she saw you as a young mutant who just needed a little help finding her way.

As your relationship deepened, Jean became more than just a mentor—she became the mother you had always needed. She was there for every milestone, every step of your journey to control your powers. And when you finally began to master them, it was Jean who stood beside you, her smile filled with pride and love. She had taken you under her wing, and in doing so, she had given you a family.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

When you first arrived at the Xavier Institute, Ororo Munroe was one of the first faces you saw. There was something about her calm and regal presence that made you feel a little less overwhelmed by your new surroundings. You were still so young, and with your mutation threatening to spiral out of control at any moment, you were terrified. Your parents had made it clear they couldn’t handle the dangers your powers presented, and now you were here—alone, confused, and unsure of what to expect.

Ororo approached you gently, her voice soft but strong. "Welcome," she said with a warm smile. "You’re safe here. We’ll figure this out together." She could sense your unease, the way your powers hummed beneath your skin, ready to burst forth at the slightest emotional trigger. Ororo understood what it was like to have powers connected so deeply to one’s emotions. Her ability to control the weather had once been wild and untamed, just like you.

At first, you were hesitant. You didn’t trust easily, not after the way your parents had reacted to your mutation. But Ororo didn’t push. She gave you space when you needed it, but was always there when you felt ready to open up. She took you under her wing, teaching you how to connect with nature, how to calm your mind and body to prevent your powers from overwhelming you.

She would take you out into the gardens, her favorite place at the mansion, and together you would sit in the grass, surrounded by flowers and trees. Ororo showed you how to focus on the wind, the rustle of the leaves, the soft patter of rain—small, natural things that helped you feel grounded. "Your powers don’t control you," she’d say with quiet conviction. "You control them."

As time passed, Ororo became a mother figure to you. She was always patient, always understanding. She taught you discipline and control, but more than that, she taught you self-acceptance. She helped you see that your mutation was a part of who you were, but it didn’t define you. Whenever you had a rough day, Ororo would be there, offering comforting words and reminding you that you were stronger than you thought.

The bond you developed with Ororo was unbreakable. She was there through every challenge, every triumph, and every setback. With her guidance, you grew stronger, not just in your abilities, but in your confidence. And no matter how many times you stumbled, Ororo was always there to lift you back up, her gentle smile reminding you that you were never alone.

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

You hadn’t said much when you first arrived at the mansion, but Charles Xavier didn’t need words to understand the storm of emotions brewing inside you. The moment he saw you, he could sense your fear, your confusion, and the overwhelming power you were struggling to control. Your mutation was dangerous, unpredictable, and omega-level—something your parents couldn’t handle. They had sent you here, hoping Charles could help, but you felt abandoned, rejected.

Charles had seen it all before, in countless young mutants who had passed through the mansion’s doors. But something about your quiet demeanor, the way you held yourself as though you didn’t want to take up any space, tugged at his heart. He approached you with kindness, offering a gentle smile. "You’re not alone anymore," he said, his voice soft but reassuring. "This is your home now."

At first, you were skeptical. You had been told so many times that you were dangerous, that your mutation made you a threat. But Charles never treated you that way. He was patient, understanding, and always willing to listen. He never probed your mind without permission, respecting your boundaries even when he knew you were struggling.

He spent hours with you in his study, guiding you through meditation exercises, helping you learn to quiet the noise in your mind. "Your mutation is powerful," he’d tell you, "but it doesn’t have to define you. You are in control, not the other way around." His presence was calming, his belief in you unwavering. It was the first time in a long time that you felt like someone truly saw you—not as a threat, but as a person.

As the months passed, Charles became more than just a mentor to you. He was like a father, always there when you needed guidance or support. He encouraged you to push beyond your fears, to embrace your mutation as a part of who you were. With his help, you began to gain control over your powers, learning to harness them instead of being overwhelmed by them.

Charles never gave up on you, even on the days when you felt like giving up on yourself. He believed in you when no one else had, and that belief made all the difference. Over time, the bond between you grew stronger, and Charles became a pillar of strength in your life. You knew that no matter how difficult things got, he would always be there to guide you through it.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

When you were first brought to Erik Lehnsherr, you were terrified. Not just of your powers, but of him. You had heard stories—whispers about Magneto, the mutant who could control metal with just a flick of his hand, the one who had waged wars for mutantkind. But there was no one else who could understand what you were going through. Your mutation was out of control, destructive, and your parents had given up on you.

Erik didn’t approach you like the others at the mansion might have. He didn’t sugarcoat things or offer soothing words. Instead, he looked at you with a kind of intensity that made you feel like he was seeing straight through you. "You are powerful," he told you bluntly, his voice firm. "More powerful than you realize. And that power is something you must learn to control."

You weren’t sure what to make of him at first. He was intimidating, his presence almost overwhelming. But there was something in his words that resonated with you. He didn’t treat you like a fragile child. He didn’t look at you with fear or pity. Instead, he saw potential in you—potential that everyone else had overlooked.

Erik took you under his wing, and while his methods were harsh at times, they were effective. He pushed you harder than anyone else, refusing to let you be consumed by fear or self-doubt. "Fear is a weapon," he would say during training sessions. "And if you let it control you, you’ve already lost."

As the days turned into weeks, you began to see a different side of Erik. Beneath the hardened exterior, there was a deep well of care—especially for you. He had seen firsthand what it was like to be cast aside because of one’s powers, and he wasn’t going to let that happen to you. He believed in your strength, even when you didn’t, and he was determined to help you harness your abilities.

Erik was a complicated figure in your life. He wasn’t soft or gentle like the others, but he was there when you needed him most. He challenged you, pushed you to the brink, but always pulled you back when things became too much. And over time, you came to trust him, to see him as more than just a mentor. He was like a father to you, albeit one with a complicated history.

Under Erik’s guidance, you grew into your powers. He helped you understand that being powerful wasn’t something to fear—it was something to embrace. And though your relationship with him was often difficult, it was also one of the most important connections you had ever made. You knew that, despite everything, Erik cared for you in his own way. And that was enough.

[stayinlimbo]

Wait For Your Love

pairing: lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, second love (kinda), fluff, minor angst, hurt/comfort, brief mentions of a previous relationship, brief descriptions of heartbreak, so much pining omg, college-aged, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.21k note:  i am proud i finished this one ngl. thank you @hwangism143 for giving me confidence. i'm not too sure how much i like this fic because it wrote itself but i hope you all still enjoy ♡

If there is anything Minho has learned about you in the years he’s known you, it’s that you’re not subtle. 

It’s something that’s never seemed to bother you, even after he pointed it out once during your shared lecture class, voice tinged with exasperation as you ogled at the upperclassman you’d been making heart eyes at for the nth time that week. You wear your heart on your sleeve like a badge of honor, displayed proudly for the entire world to see. 

Minho has witnessed every emotion be reflected on your face at least once. If asked, he could probably fill a whole book with expressions he didn’t even know were possible until he saw them on you, though the snapshots etched into his memory could never perfectly capture the art of facial contortion you’ve mastered. 

Your open nature was evident from the beginning. He can still picture the bright grin you gave him when you occupied the desk next to his on the first day of high school. The feel of your gaze flickering towards his seated form and the light bouncing of your knee as the teacher dismissed class made it no surprise when you twisted in your chair to ask for his name and if he’d like to eat lunch with you. 

It’s a curious thing, looking back on it, to see the immediate effect you had on him. Minho truly couldn’t help the pink hues coloring his cheeks as you tested his name on your tongue for the first time, nor the shy smile blossoming on his lips at the way you visibly lit up when he accepted your offer. He didn’t know you, didn’t know why you were so happy, didn’t know what this feeling was deep inside his chest; all he knew was that he really wanted to keep making you smile. 

He likes to think he’s been successful over the years, if the way your head tilts back in laughter at his silly antics and tight grip on his biceps to hold yourself up is anything to go by. It’s an admirable goal his younger self set, though he’s not sure when it shifted from wanting you to be happy to just...wanting you.

He wanted you when he introduced you to his cats for the first time, the gentlest smile playing on his lips at your barely contained excitement as they brushed past your legs. He wanted you when you tried to teach him how to swim, despite the poorly concealed judgmental looks you kept throwing at him when he clung to your shoulders tightly in the shallow water. He wanted you at your best, at your worst, and in all your in-betweens. He wanted to be by your side, even if he couldn’t have you. 

And he was. Minho was there to separate your clammy hands, wrung together by the anxiety flooding through your system, and give them a reassuring squeeze. He watched you take a calming breath, offering him one last nervous smile before walking a few rows over to ask out Chan, the upperclassman you wouldn’t stop gushing about. He offered you two thumbs up and the best smile he could muster as you bounded back to him, hands waving wildly in the air as you fervently spilled the details about how you scored a date on Saturday.

He was there to give the best “guy advice” a man with no relationship experience possibly could and third-wheeled more times than he’d like to admit, because, try as he might, he never was able to say no to you. 

No, Minho never left. If he did, who would be there to comfort you after you and Chan broke up right before his graduation? It didn’t matter that you were failing miserably at hiding your puffy face or eyes glistening with tears threatening to fall as you delved further into what happened. He didn’t care about the tears from your sobs staining his shirt and wetting his neck as he pulled you into his chest or the amount of tissue piled in his trash can. Minho chose to bear your heartbreak, be the anchor you needed because he loved you. He loved you in the way you deserved to be loved. 

He noticed the soft sighs escaping your past lips when he drove past somewhere that reminded you of Chan and the distant, longing look in your eyes when his name was mentioned. He saw your posture straighten, features lighting up slightly with a quiet “thank you” leaving your lips when he offered to bring you coffee every week before your morning class. Minho watched the weight on your shoulders be slightly lifted day by day as you reclaimed and channeled your love into yourself. He witnessed the smile finally reach your eyes, your laughter ringing in the air after he successfully predicted what the characters on the TV screen would say, and he swore he’d never felt prouder in his life.

Minho has learned all your mannerisms and would argue that he knows you better than he knows himself. Yet, there was a gleam in your eyes he’d never seen before when he leaned back on your couch and locked his eyes with yours. The way you quickly redirected your gaze was new too, and you even looked a little... shy. His eyes trailed down to your lap, where you fiddled with your fingers as he grabbed one of your surprisingly sweaty hands in comfort. Oh, it’s warm too. Weird. 

It was weird when you refused to look at him for longer than two seconds when he picked you up for class the next day. He could not figure out why you were biting down on your cheeks to hold back the smile threatening to break out any moment, nor did he understand why, two weeks later, your smile directed at him had changed—still radiant and beautiful but somehow softer, more loving.

Why are you looking at him as if you love him? 

You’re not subtle; you never have been. Minho can see it now in the way you’ve found more excuses to hold onto his arm when walking through heavy foot traffic, when you’re scared by the movie he teased you about, when you’re pulling him closer because you’re cold and don’t want to reach for the blanket resting beside your body. He can see your love overflowing in the same way as his, hands itching to intertwine with each other. 

He knows you know about his feelings for you. How could you not, when he can hear your panicky voice reverberating through your apartment’s front door, pacing footsteps creaking the floorboards as you repeatedly question one of your other friends about how you should ask him out? He really hopes the catch in his breath wasn’t too audible.

Minho doesn’t mind waiting; he’d wait forever if he had to. But it doesn’t look like he’ll have to wait for long, not when your hope-filled determination paired with a wide-eyed stare pierces his heart and soul as you wrench the door open and usher him through the entryway.  

And if he didn’t leave until the next morning, hand intertwined with yours as he dragged you to the nearest coffee shop, well, that wasn’t anyone else’s business.

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[loveyourlovelysoul]

if you've been a kid who used to ask for something you really wanted but rarely got it and had to settle and be happy about receiving crumbs or something else; if you had often been told randomly something was not for you (for any reason) at all or unless you worked very hard to actually be deserving of it (like getting a good grade in school); if you had to share your dearest havings, be nice and kind to everyone to the point don't have any boundary or privacy anymore (and you don't know where you start or end or who you really are), it may be hard for you now to not feel not enough and to not give up on your dreams deeming them as impossible or even perceiving them as a threat for your safety just by imagining living them or really getting what you want.

you're so used to not feeling appreciated as you are and accepting crumbs and making yourself smaller for others (and giving them all you can), that receiving a small anything you really desire from within feels really impossible and scary. you may even keep searching for every little sign that confirms you you are not enough and you're not going to receive it (no matter how many other signs tell you the opposite, you'll focus on these cause despite being hurtful, it's just less scary cause you're used to that, you're used to live in that place and it feels safe; you're used to make yourself smaller, so even compliments may be hard to accept and you may "decline" them not out of politeness but because you don't feel good enough for them, especially if you feel like you didn't overwork yourself enough to be worthy of them).

if any of these sounds familiar, try to work with your younger self: remind them of their worth, and welcome them in your arms as they did their best. they just weren't told the reasons behind some behaviours and decisions taken by adults around them, reasons that were clear to those adults (prolly emotionally immature ones too) but not to them obviously cause they were learning. not having had those explanations back then made your younger self read some adults' demand and behaviour as if they weren't enough to be loved and appreciated as they were. and that's a natural response by your brain since as a child all you want is to feel appreciated and validated by your parents/caregivers/older people around you, but it's also something so very far from the truth.

try to go slow and give to your younger self, slowly but consistenly. show them that it's okay to receive, to have boundaries, and that they're not being selfish or unkind if they set a boundary and stick to it, even if others ask them to toss it off. that they can and have to feel hurt, if that's how they feel. and remind them that now they have you: and you have the experience to understand what's behind a behaviour or request, you have the courage to ask if necessary, and then decide your answer according on what feels better for you (and not your hurt younger self, in constant need for approval). give yourself compassion, love and care. your younger self needs so much after all they have been deprived of. especially self love. so stay open to receive too cause you really are deserving. you already are.

[cooliestghouliest]

PUTTY, chapter two

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve got a thing for Eddie. Eddie’s got a thing for you. You both just continue to use Olly as an excuse to spend more time stealing glances at each other, until you realize you’re the one who’s gonna need to do something about it.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.1k+

TAG LIST: @emma77645

—

The night ended with Eddie sprawled out on his back against the hard ground, dark curls wet with sweat and face tinged pink from exertion. His little brother’s foot was on his chest, the heel of his tiny biker boot digging deep enough for Eddie to feel the weight of an indentation being made.

Although it would have been very easy to maneuver out of the hold Olly had him under, Eddie decided to call it a night and admit defeat. He was tired and hungry, but he knew the younger boy could probably last another hour or so out here, running off his endless childhood energy.

Eddie could not.

Eddie needed time to recuperate. He needed sustenance. Cold beer and concoctions of leftovers sitting in the fridge were calling his name.

Back in realtime, Olly raised his dull stick high in the air above his brother, ready to strike.

You, who’d disappeared into the trailer twenty or so minutes prior, came to Eddie’s rescue just as the makeshift weapon was about to make contact.

“Wait!” you called out, fingers moving to wrap around the bark, halting the boy. Olly looked nothing short of offended, mouth dropping at the audacity of his supposed Princess’ actions. You had to stifle a laugh at his expression.

“My dutiful nobleman, you’ve more than proved yourself to be a true warrior tonight. Buuuuut,” you sing-songed, brows lifting in suggestion. “Maybe we don’t slay the dragon. Maybe we keep him...” you paused for dramatic effect, dropping your attention to Eddie, “... as a pet.”

He probably shouldn’t have, and he didn’t know why he did, but Eddie really liked the sound of that.

“And we can make him do stuff for us?!” Olly exclaimed, his stick dropping to the ground immediately. The little boy loved the idea of having some sort of semblance of control over his older brother, even if it was all pretend.

“Sure,” you grinned, cheeks dimpling in amusement. You offered your hand out to Eddie to help him up as Olly ran around in circles, punching the air in celebration. Your tone was playful as you asked, “Right, Eddie? You’ll do stuff for us?”

Eddie thought he’d probably do just about anything you asked of him.

Jump off the highest cliff at Lover’s Lake? Right away. Run stark naked in the daylight down Maple Street? In a heartbeat. Never listen to another Dio album again for as long as he lived? Dio, who?

Play it cool, play it cool, Eddie thought.

He grabbed your hand, accepting the help, happy to have an excuse for any skin-to-skin contact he could get, and pulled himself back up into a standing position.

Making a show of clearing his throat, Eddie gave a deep bow, one hand pressed to his back as the other swirled in front of him. “Of course, my lieges,” he professed. “You’ve spared my life, and I am forever indebted to you.” Still dipped down, he rose his gaze to you, lips upturning. “Anything you want, my Princess.”

You bit the corner of your bottom lip, trying to stop your smile from growing too wide. You indulged yourself in a few more moments of silent eye contact before clapping your hands together and turning your attention to Olly. “Great!” you declared. “Now, Sir Olly, inside is a grand feast of garlic bread and spaghetti. I’ll be right in to help you wash your hands.”

The little boy let out an elated cheer and hurried around the side of the trailer, eager to eat a home-cooked meal for once. With Wayne working odd hours and Eddie not very skilled in the culinary arts, Olly was used to a cuisine of fast food or lunch meat sandwiches to fill his belly.

Aside from the yearly Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, that’s what Eddie had been used to as well. All his life.

His face softened at the realization that you’d actually cooked for Olly, and had cooked something of substance, nonetheless. You didn’t just throw a frozen dinner in the microwave or boil some Kraft mac and cheese, but you instead made a meal that required more than the most minimal of efforts.

Preoccupied by his thoughts, it took Eddie a few moments to realize you hadn’t yet followed Olly inside.

“You too, pet,” you said, curving your pointer and middle fingers at him in a ‘come-hither’ motion.

“You made some for me?” he asked, too shocked he was included in his little brother’s dinnertime to even register how you’d deferred to him. Pet. Had he realized, he would have had to grab Olly’s discarded cape to station directly in front of the zipper of his pants.

You weren’t Eddie’s nanny. There was no obligation to dote on his needs. Yet still, you had.

A distantly familiar warmth was beginning to spread throughout Eddie’s chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time bubbling right under the surface.

He didn’t have a chance to register just exactly what this feeling was before you answered. “You said anything I want, remember?” you reminded him. “And I want you to eat. Now come inside.”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You liked to follow a schedule and routine.

If you were left to your own devices 24/7 with ample free time, your lifelong nasty habit of overthinking would rear its ugly, judgmental head.

You aren’t doing enough, you’re doing too much, you should be back in school, you should be thinking about when you want to start a family, you should really try to put yourself out there more, you should try to stop coming on too strong, you should have more hobbies, you don’t make enough time for your family, you’ve changed, you shouldn’t be so stuck in your ways.

If you were being honest, the voice of your inner monologue sounded an awful lot like your mother’s.

Because of your adamant strife against letting your spiteful subconscious dialogue win, you made sure you were on the go or at least always had something to do to look forward to.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday mornings were for Olly, while the nights were for PiYo, animal shelter volunteering, and secondhand store browsing. You coached two different cheerleading groups on Thursdays at the local YMCA, a morning class and an evening one. All day and night Friday were for Olly as well.

Saturdays were on-call for nannying, but Wayne typically had the day off, so you would often spend the afternoon hanging out with your sisters and then would spend the night suffering through dinner with your parents.

Sundays were the only day you allowed yourself to stay cooped up in your small apartment, usually with the distraction of a sci-fi or fantasy book, the genre intentional so you could get lost in a new universe for hours at a time.

You mostly looked forward to Fridays, because you knew Eddie would be home after three.

Technically, per Wayne’s initial briefing on your nannying schedule, you were able to go your own way whenever the older Munson brother got home. You suspected Eddie wasn’t aware of this, as he never mentioned it or asked why you always stuck around, so you’d continue to forego that bit of information in order to stay with no questions asked.

Eddie was none the wiser. He thought you were doing it to stretch out the hours you got to spend with Olly. It never occurred to Eddie you could also be trying to stretch out the hours you got to spend with him.

You would have lunch made for the three of you by the time Eddie got home from school. Then dinner would be served by six, the portion size enough so that there’d be leftovers for all the Munson’s later in the week.

Cooking was one of your favorite things to do. It was something you’d enjoyed since you were a child, when you’d spend the summer months in Turks and Caicos with your restaurant-mogul of a grandmother.

This is why, when Wayne lightheartedly mentioned to you once that you didn’t need to continue to spoil the Munson men with all of these different meals, you brushed it off and didn’t even for a second consider scaling back.

After dinner, you and Olly would typically watch reruns of Garfield or He-Man or one of his favorite three movies, whether it was Benji, The Muppet Movie, or Escape to Witch Mountain. Eddie would pretend to be busy with homework in the kitchen or would tune his guitar in Olly’s room with the door open, but really, he’d be watching you.

No matter how many times you’d seen the same episode or the same movie, Olly being a creature of habit and liking what he liked, you would be just as engrossed as the first time, eyes unwavering from the story unfolding before you on the small television screen.

Luckily for Eddie, this meant he didn’t have to worry about your attention diverting from the living room and finding him almost hypnotized by your every move.

He couldn’t help it, and in the secrecy of the shadowed kitchen or hidden halfway behind Olly’s bedroom door, he didn’t even want to try to hide it. He wanted to indulge himself.

Just like you, Fridays had also become his favorite day of the week, and not only because school was out for the following two days.

Friday was Eddie’s day to study the curve of your neck as you pulled your hair up in a messy bun while cooking dinner. It was his day to store to memory the high-pitched giggle that came from you at a funny joke in The Muppet Movie (one you’d had to have heard at least a hundred times by now). It was Eddie’s day to watch as your eyes grew heavy, blinking closed for minutes at a time here and there, head lolling gently against the armrest of the couch you were spread out on, surely exhausted from a long week of chasing his rambunctious little brother around.

Yeah, Eddie loved Fridays.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie frequently took smoke breaks outside on the small porch of the trailer. You, typically busy keeping his energetic brother happy, had never followed him out before. That didn’t stop Eddie from sometimes imagining you sitting next to him on the loveseat in the front yard, talking late into the night about serious shit and stupid shit and all the other shit in between.

In his head, he’d tell you about Hellfire’s newest campaign, and you’d listen intently, chin in your palm, head tilted toward him to take in every word he was saying. He’d tell you about what a hard-on Higgins had for him this year. Then you’d tell him about the Pilates classes that he’s seen you in at Starcourt, and maybe you’d teach him a move or two. You’d vent about some asshole you’d run into during your day, which would cause Eddie to simmer with rage when thinking someone in this world would be anything but gentle with you.

Eddie wanted those conversations. He’d get so lost in those imaginary scenarios sometimes that the cherry of his cigarette would start to burn his fingertips because he’d smoked it down past the filter, distracted, mind off somewhere in another reality.

And then one night, as if he’d finally manifested it, you did follow him out.

He’d been leaned against the side of the trailer with the roach of a joint between his lips, flicking a lighter absentmindedly.

“Ed?”

Surprised at your voice, the lighter flung from his fingers and his body jolted up off the paneled surface of the mobile home.

You stifled a laugh at his reaction, taking a few steps closer as Eddie bent over and began scrambling in search of the Zippo he’d flung. “Olly ditched me for bedtime. Want some company?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, definitely. Totally don’t... I don’t mind. I would, um, I’d very much like it...”

So smooth, Munson, he thought to himself, fingers finally finding the lighter. Modern day wordsmith you are. Beyond charming.

You smiled, finding each and every one of Eddie’s mannerisms as endearing as the rest. You liked how sometimes he’d stumble over his words when you spoke to him, and you especially liked how flustered it made him when your attention was fully on him and nothing else.

Didn’t that have to mean something?

You’d seen Eddie in action in public before. He wasn’t shy or timid, so there had to be a reason he acted that way with you, right? Maybe the feelings you’d had for him for years now were reciprocated.

Tonight, you decided you were tired of only hoping this was the case, and you were on a secret mission to finally find out for sure.

You made your way to the loveseat a few feet away. You sat crisscross, the weathered fabric lightly scratching at the skin of your legs. “Sit with me.” You patted the empty space next to you.

Eddie breathed in deep and forced his legs to move toward you before he could second-guess himself, plopping his full weight down on the sofa beside you.

Much to his surprise, without a word, you plucked the small remnants of the joint from his lips and grabbed the lighter from his hand. He watched in awe as you lit it and breathed in. You let the smoke billow in your lungs before you leaned your back against the cushioning of the loveseat, relaxing into it with an exhale.

When you glanced back at him, Eddie looked incredulous.

“Wait, wait, wait -- you smoke weed?”

You laughed and inhaled another smaller hit before passing it over to him. Eddie took it and matched your hit, a quick in and out, eager for your answer.

“I’m full of surprises, Eddie,” you informed, matter-of-factly. “You know, I’d always sit inside and wonder if you’d ever invite me out here with you. But,” you offered a pout and Eddie wanted to bite your lips, “you never did.”

He took a moment to study your face. It was dark outside, probably nearing nine-thirty by now, but the glow from the streetlamp near the trailer was a golden halo around you, illuminating the shape of your face, the softness of your hair, the warmth in your eyes.

“I didn’t know you’d wanna come out here with me,” he defended.

You made a ‘psh-ing’ noise with your mouth. “Come on, Munson. I practically fawn after you whenever you leave the room. Always waiting for you to turn around and see me.”

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He laughed, the noise sounding more like a scoff. “Yeah, right.” He took one more hit off the joint before leaning over to stamp it out in the ground, pocketing the paper to toss later.

Eddie Munson was not a litterer.

“I’m not lying!” you exclaimed, bringing your hand out to playfully shove at his shoulder. “I really like spending time around you.”

He felt like all the air was forced from his lungs at your admission. “You’re really serious?” he asked, voice quiet. Not that he necessarily thought you were fucking with him -- you’d never given him a reason to believe you were mean-spirited like that -- but Eddie was so used to things he wanted not working out for him, or things that seemed too good to be true actually being too good to be true. In this instance, he fleetingly and insecurely thought maybe he was the butt of some joke. Have the Princess fake fall for him only to break his Freak heart for fun.

You were very serious, but you chose not to answer him directly. You had a feeling offering only words wasn’t going to cut it. “Wanna come to a party with me when Wayne gets home? I told Chrissy I’d stop by. I’d like it if you came with.”

Eddie balked at her. A party? A party that popular, real-life Barbie doll Chrissy Cunningham would be hosting? That did not sound like a place for the likes of himself, unless he was invited to sell. He liked Chrissy, she was nice to him, but her friends, which also unfortunately happened to be your friends from high school, were not.

“I don’t know... Parties aren't really my kind of thing...”

“Please, Eddie,” you asked, eyes going round and voice beseeching. He had to stifle a groan at the soft solicit coming from you. You sounded so desperate for your wish to be granted. Your wish for him to spend time with you. Eddie loved hearing your voice in general, but hearing it like that? Music to his ears. Like a Sabbath song if sung by a super smokin’, staunchly sweet angel.

He chewed on his lower lip, weighing his options.

This could all be a rouse to embarrass him in front of the masses at some jock-packed party, further pinning him as a lovesick, gullible idiot — a laughable loser who thinks he’s got the girl in the bag.

But he really, really didn’t think you would do that.

You cooked for him. You cleaned his rings once with baking soda that time Olly had taken them and buried them in the mud as a prank. You sometimes helped him with calculus. You’d play with his hair if he sat in front of you while watching sitcoms. He thought you did that last one absently. You did it very much intentionally.

What fun was life if you weren’t taking chances?

Eddie was typically more of the adventurous type anyway. Maybe he would have a good time. Doubtful, knowing where the party was, but begrudgingly possible, knowing he’d have you by his side.

He mentally rolled a die in his head for courage.

Eddie Munson was not afraid of what people thought about him. Deep down inside him, sure, yeah, it didn’t feel great that his neighbors thought he ritually sacrificed goats or kept body parts hidden under his bed. But to the public, Eddie knew people thought he was confident and unbothered, if also insanely eccentric.

He needed to be that Eddie right now.

Eddie imagined the die bouncing on the long wooden table in the drama room at school, where Hellfire commenced. Hellfire. Those guys thought the world of him. Dustin would be smacking him in the back of the head right now for even hesitating to go to a party with a pretty lady.

The die stopped rolling.

Henderson’s face was there in lieu of numbers.

Good enough.

“Party it is, Princess.”

The grin that spread across your face made him forget all about everything in the entire world. He’d waited months now for you to look at him like that. All wide-eyed and deeply dimpled cheeks

When you threw your arms around his neck in a feat of success, Eddie felt invincible.

If you were hanging on him like this, how could this night possibly go wrong?

[chairofchaos]

You Deserve Better, and Other Points for Reflection

Hey friends, listen up. Real talk for a second, because nobody deserves this. And, in case anybody cares, I want you to know I come with 12 years of learning on this exact debate we have been having, because I had some very excellent fandom mentors in my communities and in the form of my uncles, who to this day support me writing and reading whatever hell I please, even in the face of protest from my immediate family. There was a lot of learning I had to do to be here with you now, and I am thankful for those people who were willing to tell me so.

If you want to post memes and think pieces and jokes and poems about a fandom debate, go ahead! You create the experience you want to see on your dash, and you will find your people.

If you want to discuss a fandom debate (a little or a lot), go ahead! I’m all for thinking through how we live and act and exist as a fan community.

If you feel that you need to take those things and turn them into vitriol to pour into the DMs and Anons of people who are running a fan week, that is not okay. Not in the slightest.

There is a big difference between debate, discussion, creative protest, and joking around, and intentionally using your words to create harm in someone’s life.

“But, Chaos, this [thing not directly sent to you/not specifically intended for you] hurt my feelings!”

Okay. Get burned once? Great! You learned something: don’t touch the hot iron again. (To translate: block the tag, block the person, whatever you need, and move on. If it isn’t for you that’s ok.) Hurt feelings are to tell you what you can and/or are willing to handle. If you don’t want to see it, block. (I love blocking tags it’s one of my little joys in life lol)

“Chaos, somebody said something really rude to me to my (virtual) face! What do I do?”

Well, you can either respond or you can block. Either way, it will probably help you to move on.

If you are responding, I beg you to keep one thing in mind. I want you to picture 7 year old you at the other end of that message. Or 13 year old you. What kind of words did they deserve to hear in a moment when maybe they weren’t getting something? Use those. Use them kindly, not in a condescending way, but in a “I want to explain this as gently as I would to my younger self” kind of way. If somebody keeps being mean, it isn’t worth it. Please use the block feature and move on. They are not worth your time.

Additionally, I would encourage you to do this: the “touch grass” mentality is something I only direct at myself. (I literally told myself to go touch grass yesterday, and there is at least one person who can corroborate that.) I stand by that decision every single day. It’s kept me out of a lot of trouble. Directing it at others does not end well, but directing it at yourself can be a good way to reflect and to consider sensible actions in the face of overwhelming situations or emotions (of which I experience many).

“Chaos, people are coming into anon and being hateful. Or just rude. Or they’re dumping triggering material into my anons.”

That is on them. That is not on you. They should not do that. And I am so sorry you are dealing with that. I’m going to be honest, I don’t know if you can block from anons (I’ve never even needed to look and so help you all if this is the post that makes me) but if you can, do. I will do what I can to help, if you need it. Regardless of where you stand on any of these issues, because I will not stand for hatred.

“I’m mad about [redacted] and I am going to be rude/mean/intentionally putting triggering material in people’s inboxes and activity feeds!”

You do that and you will be in a world of hurt, my friend. A world of hurt from yourself.

Because we create the experience we think we deserve. If you create an internet experience where it is acceptable to be hateful, vengeful, and downright cruel to other people, that is the experience you will receive in return. You deserve better than that. And if you believe that you deserve better than that but the people you’re directing cruelty towards don’t, then I want you to hear me: you will quickly find that you are not welcome anywhere. There will always be someone to disagree with. There will always be (at least) minute discrepancies in the way two or more people think, even people who are deeply similar.

Hurt the hand that reaches to help you- one day it will be raised against you in hurt as well.

As for me? Well, for that, I leave you with thoughts from George Washington’s Farewell address as paraphrased in Hamilton’s ‘One Last Time’:

“Though, in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious of intentional error, I am nevertheless too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that I may have committed many errors.”

I am not a president (and thank god for that because who wants Chaos in charge of a country?). I am simply a fandom member. A writer. A little chaos gremlin lurking behind trees in the forest.

But like Mr. Washington, I am aware that I often fail to live up to my standards and principles. And I hope, truly, though it is wildly uncomfortable for me, that you would call me out for ways I have failed to uphold them, either in the past or in the future. (It would be super great if you like… called me out in DMs and didn’t put me on blast but oh well.)

I am in at least four other major (international, GIANT) fandoms. I am not hopeful enough to think that the ACOTAR fandom will learn from the fandoms of yore. We will have to weather these storms on our own, even with the knowledge and experiences already there. I think that’s okay. Disappointing, perhaps, but okay.

Since this post was much longer than it was intended to be, I will summarize:

If you are intentionally putting hateful materials in the inboxes, DMs, and activity feeds of people you disagree with, you will hurt yourself.

You create the experience you think you deserve, and in doing so, create that experience for others. Good or bad.

Block tags, block blogs, block what you need to enjoy the space. You will find your people.

Being intentionally cruel to other human persons is how you end up finding that nobody is “your people” because you created an environment where no one wants to be. You will be lonely and sad. Don’t make yourself lonely and sad.

I am certain I fail to uphold these principles at times. Feel free to call me out if you see me failing at these. DM appreciated, but I’m the one who invited you to do so so I’m not going to say “don’t blast me on main.” My funeral, I know.

[trumpkinhotboy]

"All that matters to me is that you're happy"

Pairing: Nick Nelson x Younger sibling!reader

Type: Request (thank youuu !!)

Genre: Angst and fluff

Warnings: A few curse words, homophobic comments, having a homophobic family member/sibling, being “bullied” by a family member

Rating: 13+ (because of curse words)

Word count: approx. 4k

Requests: Open! For Heartstopper, Twilight wolfpack, Narnia and Harry Potter

A/n: I must say, I loved writing this fic, but it always make me feel a bit weird to write about someone who’s homophobic… I know it’s sadly part of our society, but ugh. Just writing those horribles words made me feel weird and the saddest thing is that they’re all things I’ve actually heard before ????? But anyway, i think the fluff really does outweigh the angst (lol) and im sending you all a big fat queer hug <33

*gif is not mine!!

** Can you imagine him hugging you like this? Making you feel safe and shit?? Ughh. Nick would be the best brother on earth that for SUUUURE (i even wrote a thing about it hehe, if you want to check it out it’s here :3)

Summary: After being around Charlie and his group of friends' the reader starts to question themselves a bit more, wondering what they’re own sexuality and gender might truly be. However, all that discovery isn't made easy by their oldest brother David, who’s never been one to shy away from speaking what’s on his mind (even though it's the most hainous and stupid thing you might hear:)). After a pretty heated fight between the two of them, the reader takes refuge in their room where they will at least get comfort and support from their other brother, Nick.

It had already been a week since your oldest brother, David, came home from university, and it was proving to be one of the longest weeks of your life. David's presence at home always meant you had to deal with a bunch of mixed and confusing feelings. You used to be quite close with him. Once, David Nelson was a sweet and funny boy, but since he entered his teenage years, he proved to be a complete asshat. You still had your good moments together, from time to time, but they were becoming pretty scarce. Especially since he started making all those homophobic and horrible comments about LGBTQIA+ folks. When something stupid came out of his mouth, which happened quite a lot, you usually tried to ignore him, not wanting to engage in a fight every single time. Especially when you knew he loved to do it on purpose, but it was incredibly harder to do since you had met Charlie and his friends and learned that your brother Nick was bisexual. That wasn't taking into account the fact that you had started to question your own sexuality. Fights kept sparking up with your brother, and you couldn't just stand down anymore and let him spew his homophobic nonsense.

Contrary to your habit, you came back from school alone that day. After you waited a good 15 minutes for Nick to make an appearance at the crowded gates of Truham, you sent him two text messages, which were left unanswered. You decided to head home anyway, knowing something must have come up for him.

Sitting in the old bus bringing you closer to home, you let your mind drift. You found your thoughts heading toward a subject that had become quite familiar to you in the past few weeks. You thought about how you admired Charlie and his friends. They were so accepting and loving towards each other. You always wished you could have a friend group like that. You had lots of friends at Higgs, some very nice ones at that, but it wasn't the same. You weren't your 100% authentic self with them. You would never be able to tell them how uncomfortable you felt with all the heteronormativity demonstrated at school and how you always felt a bit weird about being in a ‘girl's’ school. In fact, you didn't mind it at all, but you hated all the stereotypical crap that came with it. Deep down inside, you never really considered yourself a girl or a boy. You were just a human, existing and floating around, trying to make the best of life. You felt trapped by the gender box and wanted to exist outside of it. You wanted to do anything you wished, wear anything you wanted without having to think whether it was a "girly" or "boyish" thing to do. Until a certain age, you didn't really care about all of that, but the older you got, it felt like stereotypes were being pushed onto you even more. And lately, you just couldn't come up with a way to deal with it, although the need was getting more pressing with each passing day.

As you walked home, completely lost in thought and not really noticing what was in front of you, you bumped into a tall, and lanky boy.

"Y/n! There you are!" You heard Charlie's familiar voice say from afar, slowly bringing you back to the mortal realm. "Nick's been looking for you everywhere!"

"Oh, right," you mumbled. "I did wait at Truham and even texted him, but after a while, I just decided to go anyway."

The curly-haired boy stayed silent for a second, noticing you seemed out of it. Silent and pensive, instead of being your usual cheerful self. He shifted his head to the side, trying to catch your gaze. "Are you okay?"

You looked up at him, confusion filling your eyes. "I don't know," you admitted. "It's been an interesting past few weeks." You kicked small pebbles off the sidewalk as he took ahold of your arm, bringing you to a small bench on the side of the road.

"Do you want to talk about it? You know I'm here if you ever need to talk about anything." he kindly offered. You let out a heavy breath. How could you talk about something that didn't even make sense to you? 

"I-, I've been questioning myself a lot lately…" He didn't react to that declaration, giving you the space you needed to express yourself fully, but encouraged you to carry on with a subtle nod. "I-, you know, with you and Nick, and your friends and just, everything in fact. I- ugh, I just feel so trapped." Elbows on your knees, you pressed your closed eyes with the palms of your hands. A feeble attempt to relieve some of the pressure you felt buzzing in your overstimulated brain.

"Trapped?"

"Like I'm suffocating. People keep saying stuff that makes me uncomfortable, and I'm not sure why it makes me feel this way."

You turned to face him, his expression a mix of surprise and compassion. With his own coming out and Nick's situation, Charlie was getting quite versed in the 'question yourself' department. "What kind of stuff?"

"Well…" you hesitated for a second. Saying those things out loud felt like jumping off a cliff, and you weren't sure what was waiting for you down there, but Charlie felt like such a safe person. His kind and caring expression made you want to say the words bouncing around in your head for the first time. Deep down, you knew he was one of the few people you could tell this without being scared.

"I hate all these labels and stereotypes everyone seems to be pushing on me. I don't think I've ever really noticed it before, but now I see every weird reaction and surprised glance when I say or do something that might be just a tiny bit out of the 'normal' box. I'm just a human. I don't feel attached to any gender, either with myself or when I'm interested in someone. Their gender doesn't matter to me, it's their personality, interests, and how they treat me. That's what matters and makes sense to me." You were slightly out of breath after you blurted this whole thing out. Once you started talking, it felt impossible to stop. Coming to your senses about everything you had just told Charlie, you nervously looked his way. "Or at least, I think."

True to himself, he had listened patiently, never interrupting you. You took a deep breath, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. It was such a refreshing feeling. Your brother's boyfriend looked at you in silence before smiling.

"I'm really happy, and honored you felt comfortable enough to tell me about all of this Y/n. Does Nick know about the way you feel?"

You shook your head no, feeling a hint of guilt creeping in. "I didn't know what to tell him… I'm not even sure how I feel can be put into clear words."

"Sometimes it is pretty hard to find ways to put an exact word on a state of mind, but if you'd like, I can tell you about some stuff that might be linked to how you feel. You're not the only one who feels like that, and even if it's not exactly the good word for you, maybe it can give you an idea. A hint of things to look up, to do some research on and see what that feels like for you."

You nodded excitedly. Your innocent enthusiasm exerting a laugh from Charlie.

"But. We'll do that as I walk you home, okay? Nick had a rugby thing tonight and panicked a bit when he realized he hadn't told you about it. He asked me to text him when I saw you and would probably feel more comfortable knowing I walked you home. So, is that a deal?”

The discussion you shared on your walk home was one of the most informative you've ever had. Charlie was full of knowledge, and he was incredibly good at explaining everything. When he left you on your doorstep, words like "non-binary" and "pansexual" still danced around in your brain. You thanked him thoroughly before promising to keep him updated. You entered your cozy home, feeling some relief for the first time in a while. Nellie's excited welcome only made it better. She was dancing around your feet, letting out high-pitched barks.

"Y/n? That you, darling?" you heard your mother's voice call from the kitchen.

"Yes, mum!"

You joined her in the delicious smelling room after you granted Nellie your entire attention. She was still following you around, almost making you trip as she slipped between your legs. As you came in, you were incredibly happy to see the plate of lasagna your mother put in the stove.

"You're a bit late. Everything alright?"

"Oh yes. Charlie walked me home since Nick had a rugby thing. We got distracted a little bit, that's why."

Your mother only nodded with a smile. She absolutely loved Charlie and knew that if you were with him, she didn't need to worry about a thing. She entirely trusted him to take care of her Nelson babies.

"Dinner'll be ready in twenty."

You nodded before you walked to the living room, your bag slung over your shoulder.

"Hey." saluted David. He was sprawled on the couch, focused on some video game on the screen. Nellie, still on your heels, let out a low growl when she noticed his presence. Like you, she wasn't much of a fan of David's. You rolled your eyes as you realized he had, once again, borrowed Nick's Nintendo Switch without asking. You finally grunted in response, not wanting to end your good mood by engaging with him. "Heard you say that Charlie walked you home."

His comment immediately made you tense up. When David was mentioning Charlie, it rarely ended well. You still remember vividly the night he had met him, all the things he had said, and how much of a dick he had been. You had felt so bad for poor Charlie and spent the night in Nick's room, allowing him to vent about the situation. "Yeah." you cautiously answered.

"So?"

"So what?" you turned on your heels, facing him with a challenging look, daring him to say some dumb shit again.

"Well, he's not trying to turn you gay, is he?" he snickered.

Your mouth opened in an astonished 'oh'. He didn't dare to say that, did he? If his comment hadn't made you so angry, you would have laughed at his stupidity. "What the hell, David. Do you even hear yourself?"

He let out an idiotic laugh, sounding like all the morons you had the pleasure to cross paths with at school. "No, but I mean, he's already convinced Nick, maybe you're next on the list. Maybe he wants you to join his little gay club."

Tightening your grip on the strap of your bag, your blood boiled in your veins. If you were a comic character, high-pressure smoke would come out of your ears right this instant. You couldn't understand how such a hateful and horrible human being could be related to you and the rest of your family.

"Shut the hell up. What does it bring you to be such a dick?"

He put his game on pause, noticing the change in your tone. "Oh my god, not you too. Can't anybody take a joke anymore?"

"David, I swear, you better shut up. I'm done letting you say such hateful things without saying anything."

"Listen, I just don't want to be stuck in a house with so many gay people. Don't want to catch it, you know. I don't even get it. It can't even physically work between same-sex people. Is it some weird kinky stuff? Am I really cursed to be the only sane one in this family?" He started his game again as if he hadn't just said one of the worst things you had ever heard. At this point, he wasn't even trying to hide his homophobia. You always tried to keep the peace between you two, knowing it made your mother very sad when you got in fights, but this was your limit, and he kept crossing it as if it didn't matter.

"I don't even know why you keep bothering coming home when all you do is be a stupid piece of shit towards Nick and me. You were an asshole to him when he came out, and now you want to do the same to me? You're not even nice to mum! I, we, don't need this in our life."

"You too? So you are gay?!"

"THAT'S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!" You took a breath, trying to refrain from punching him straight in the face. "You know what, I'm not interested in having a relationship with someone like you. You try to act as if you are this cool and nice older brother who's just joking, but you AREN'T. You're just mean and a fricking homophobe. Don't you ever talk to me again, got it?" You kept your tone cold, but made sure that every word coming of your mouth was coated in venom.The 'game over' sound escaped the TV, your brother staring at you, clearly dumbfounded by your last words. You left the room before you could start crying in front of him and bumped into your mother, her eyes wide open. No doubt she had heard the last part of that conversation. It broke your heart to see the expression on her face, but if she couldn't recognize when her own son was being a bully, that wasn't on you. She would never accept that behavior from anyone else, she was giving him too many chances, and you couldn't abide it when it came to something as serious as this.

"Y/n, darling…"

"I don't know why you still allow him to come here. It's been years since David has been decent to us. I'm so tired of it Mum, I'm done with it. I can't take this anymore, and someone needs to tell him this is NOT okay. I'm not talking to him anymore, and I really mean it. This isn't a petty little fight between siblings. This is serious."

"I-"

Your attention was captured by the front door opening on a very sweaty Nick.

"Hi, I'm home!" you heard his familiar voice say. The smile on his face vanished when he noticed the expression on you and your mother's faces. "What happened?" he asked seriously. Worry invaded his hazelnut eyes at the sight of your disheveled figure, your chest quickly going up and down, your breath shallow with anger. Your mother's state wasn't comforting either. She looked absolutely brokenhearted.

"David. That's what happened," you said with a sarcastic smile before you went around your mother, climbing the stairs as quickly as you could to escape into your room. It didn't take very long for you to hear the screaming coming from downstairs. A mix of your mother and both your brothers' voices. You shoved your head into your pillow and slipped under the covers, trying to make yourself as small as possible before you let the tears run freely down your face.

You opened your eyes after some time, feeling as confused as ever. You felt like you were on another planet, hunger rumbling in your stomach. You looked at the time on your phone with half-opened eyes. 8:00pm. You must have fallen asleep after all the crying. 

You listened carefully, trying to hear what was happening downstairs when you saw your door open about an inch. Nick's face was peeking in the crack, trying his best not to make a sound. "Hey, kiddo. Can I come in?" he softly asked. You mumbled a yes, slowly sitting up in your bed, trying to regain some grasp on reality. His hands were full with a tray containing a plate of delicious-smelling lasagna, a steaming cup of tea, and a piece of brownie your mother had baked the night prior. He put it down on your night table, his eyes looking for yours.

"So."

"So."

"Mom told me what happened with David." he started. "I'm so sorry Y/n. Usually, I try to protect you from him. I'm sorry I wasn't home to prevent that whole situation from happening."

Once again, your eyes filled with tears. You didn't think it was even physically possible after all the crying you had already done, but here you were. You looked down at your fidgety hands, determined not to let him see the emotion arising in you.

"Yeah. Well, he's David. We know he's horrible."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he has a right to act like this. Mum said she'll take care of it. He really crossed the line this time." 

His hands were stuffed in the pocket of his gray sweatpants. A few wild strands of reddish hair fell in his eyes. He still looked so worried, guilty even. He had hoped you never would have to go through that and couldn't help but feel responsible that it happened anyway. You didn't dare to add anything, afraid that speaking would break you. Everything you were feeling was already so confusing, and the fight with your brother only made it worse. Nick kept staring, unsure what to do. He wanted to be there for you but didn't want to push your limits. He decided to sit on your bed, close, but not enough to be in your personal space. A very gentle approach was probably the way to go. You kept staring at your knees, knowing if you looked at him, it was done for, you would crack again. Nick and you were incredibly close. He was your brother, and in a way, he was an extension of yourself. You would do anything for him and knew the feeling was reciprocated. Having that kind of relationship had its advantages, but when you were trying to keep yourself from falling apart… it was kind of a pain. How could you look into his eyes and lie about everything you felt?

Gently, he took ahold of your hands. "Can I do anything to help?"

You stared at your hands covered with his freckled ones. These hands helped you through so much. They steadied you when you learned to ride a bike at seven. They always held yours when you were scared, and they always rubbed your back soothingly when you needed comfort.

You finally lifted your gaze, tears rolling down your face. You nodded as your lower lip started to shake uncontrollably. "Can I- can I have a hug?"

He took a deep breath before wrapping you in his arms.

"Come here." he engulfed you in his embrace making you feel protected and as safe as ever. He jumped under the covers so you both sat, your backs resting on your headboard. His arms still around you, and your head on his chest, you assembled the courage to let the words stuck in your throat be expressed.

You told him about all the things you had been questioning lately. All the stereotypes and labels that made you feel trapped. You told him about your walk with Charlie and how good it had felt to hear that it was all okay, that you were okay. Your gaze turned dark when you told him word for word about your conversation with David. You felt his grip tighten on you for a split second. You were no stranger to the anger David triggered in your brother.

"And then you came home, and now we're here." You ended your monologue and looked up to him. His brows furrowed, he seemed in deep, deep thoughts. Looking straight ahead, everything you told him was still settling in his mind. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, until my discussion with Charlie, I didn't even know what I was feeling."

The mention of his boyfriend seemed to bring him back to the present. He looked at you, forcing a smile on his lips that did not quite reach his eyes. "That's okay. You don't ever have to tell me something if you don't feel ready. I'm glad Charlie was there to catch you when you needed to."

You smiled, feeling once again that comforting warmth spreading in your chest. You were incredibly grateful to have such an amazing brother as Nicholas. You squeezed him a bit tighter. He reciprocated your gesture while resting his cheek on top of your head.

"Although I must admit I am a tiny bit jealous that you told him before me…"

"Jealous, uh?" you giggled after getting up, staring at him and the sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

"I'm just saying I want you to remember who has always slipped you some candies when mum said it was enough. Before you replace me with Charlie, that is."

You burst out laughing, remembering the many times you almost got sick because of all the candies Nick had slipped you.

"No worries, brother. I'm not thinking of replacing you just yet. You're too useful to me."

"Ah! That's comforting." His gaze in the direction of the ceiling, the smile on his face stilled. "I'm really sorry again about David. He's such a dick. I already felt so bad for what happened with Charlie. I'm so mad he dared to do the same to you." Your oldest brother's inner brain working was something that needed to be examined by scientists. You would never pretend to know how it even worked. "I thought that it was me he specifically had a problem with. I hoped that your youngest sibling's status would protect you. That was foolish of me. I should have said something before."

Rubbing his eyes with his hands, he seemed incredibly tired and vulnerable. You hated that someone from your own family could have that effect on him. In fact, you hated that someone in your family caused you all so much hurt.

"David's always been like that. Ever since he turned fourteen, he's been a bully. I think the important thing is that we never let it slide anymore. I think we all gave him too many chances, and it resulted in the lovely human being he is now." You reached for his hand once more, hoping to take away some of the guilt in his eyes. "This is not your fault Nick. You know how much I appreciate how you're always there for me, but I need to fight my own battles, and this is what I've done today. As shitty as it feels to know what David thinks of queer people, I feel incredibly proud to have stood up to him. To have said enough."

Your words seemed to lighten up his mood. The smile on his face wasn’t full yet, but it was getting much closer to a heartfelt one. "I am proud of you too. You're such a badass kid."

Curling your arms to show your guns, you wiggled your brows, hoping it would make him laugh and bring back on his features that dear smile of his. To your advantage, you did know your brother pretty well because he couldn't contain his laugh at the display of your dumb antics.

For the rest of the night, you stayed hidden in your room. You ate your whole plate and decided to put on a movie. You decided that the best remedy to such a shitty evening was to have one of your infamous movie nights. Nick even went out to fetch Nellie and some more sweets to satisfy the both of you.

"Y/n," he whispered halfway through the movie. A huge bowl of popcorn on both your laps, yours salty and his sweet, Nellie sprawled at the end of the bed, you hummed, reluctantly taking your focus away from the screen.

"What? I swear if you're about to ask me for some of my popcorn again, I'll punch you."

"It's not that." he chuckled. "I, I just want to say that if you need help with anything in your… your quest of understanding your sexuality."

"My quest?!" you interrupted with a laugh.

"Shut up." he threw some popcorn to your face, which you immediately ate, before he continued. "No, but I mean if you need help in your research or want me to be mindful of the pronouns I use for you. I want you to let me know."

You paused the movie, your expression a neutral surprise. "Nick, I-"

"No pressure or anything! I know you're still exploring and learning about new stuff. I just want you to know that I'm 100% here for you, no matter what, okay? You can ask me anything, and I'll do my best to help and support you. All that matters to me is that you are happy."

You stayed silent, the idea of exploring your pronouns still hanging in the air in front of you. You scrunched your nose and buried your face in his shoulder.

"I don't know what I would do without you. Thank you, Nick," you whispered with muffled words that barely came through the fabric of his sweatshirt.

"Better than Charlie?" he whispered back, diffusing the seriousness of the moment. You sat straight again, looking at him, a sparkle glowing in both your eyes. He was dumb. He loved to make jokes and tease you, but he was your big brother and your best friend in the whole world.

You offered him some of your salted popcorn before you focused again on the movie. Even though this had been a shitty week and evening, you took some time to just appreciate this precious moment, and took comfort in knowing that no matter what, you would always have Nick by your side.

[corinthianism]

labyrinth | peter parker

pairing: peter parker (andrew garfield)/gn!reader additional tags: fluff, meet cute warnings: referenced character death (gwen), angst

summary: peter finds love again nearly a decade since gwen's death. note: this is like. a brain fart. i barely proofread this so like i'm just gonna HOPE it's not complete ass. happy reading!

The air was already biting cold in November. Peter had been sitting on the same bench for about an hour now, orange leaves clinging to his coat. Every so often, he would break out of his trance to brush them off. Gwen had gotten it for him on their first Valentine’s Day together after she saw him wearing one of his uncle’s old ones. She joked about how it made him look like he was hiding little packets of crack in his pocket. His lips twitched into a smile before he inhaled deeply, trying to remember the sound of her laugh. The real sound of her laugh, not the one that crackles through the speakers of his old laptop whenever he missed her. It’s been that long. He was always terrified he’d forget her: how her eyes twinkled when she learned something new, how her hair always seemed to be perfectly in place, or how her scent took over his room after every visit.

There were days when he couldn’t even get out of bed, too consumed by his grief to move a muscle. On the flip side, there were days when he could feel like himself again. Days where he allowed himself to smile and just be the nerd he’d always been. He knew it was what Gwen would’ve wanted. By some miracle, it was what she fell in love with. She loved Peter Parker and that was the only reason he had to not lose himself as Spider-Man. Despite it all, he found it got easier with time. It was easier to live with himself now. It was easier to accept that it wasn’t his fault. Four years has passed since her death and he was just barely accepting it still, but it didn’t hurt so much anymore.

It was rare for him to have the time to just go out and enjoy what the city had to offer. New York could be a real piece of work: that was evident from just how much Spider-Man had to deal with in the past few months, but it was home. Central Park was a place he hadn’t visited in a while, so he tried to not dwell in his thoughts too much and enjoy the rare opportunity. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to do but people-watch, but it was a nice change of pace for Peter. With how hectic things were at work on top of his responsibilities as a vigilante, he was exhausted. He was tired of being Peter Parker. It was nice to just be invisible for once. 

He snorted. If middle-school Peter heard that, he would’ve been firmly smacked on the head by his younger self. He always wanted to fit in with the cool kids back then. He achieved that to some degree. Sure, he was more well-known as a dweeb rather than a cool guy, but he was still well-known. Even now, he realized his desires didn’t change all that much. It’s just that this time, he wished he could have a house and a dog and a proper job and be friends with normal people. Instead, he was still renting an apartment in a less-than-ideal part of town that he could barely keep. Before he could slip further into his self-deprecation, he was pulled away from his thoughts by something sitting next to him. On his right was a puppy, no more than a year old, slobbering all over the bench with a bright green ball in its mouth. Peter could only stare at it before the puppy carefully placed the wet ball on his lap, urging him to throw it. Before he could do anything, you jogged up to them and picked up both the dog and the ball.

“I’m so sorry, sir! I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately!” your eyes wandered down to the wet patch on Peter’s thigh where the ball used to be. “God, you don’t have somewhere to be, do you? I’m really, really sorry!” 

You were really jittery. That was the only word Peter could think of to describe you. You didn’t know where to put your hands: between holding the happy pup, the ball with said pup’s drool all over it, or trying to introduce yourself to the man your dog decided was “the chosen one”, Peter was pretty entertained. Then he felt bad. 

“It’s no problem really,” he reassured you before pointing to the troublemaker in your arms fondly. “You’ve got a cute puppy. Too bad I didn’t get to throw the ball though.”

The sigh of relief you let out must’ve been cartoony because you swore you saw him smile, then he stood up and handed you a handkerchief. You looked at it for a few moments before accepting it with your one wet free hand gratefully. He remembered thinking at the time that you looked so welcoming. Like a friend you can always talk to even if you haven’t seen each other in a while. It might’ve been his senses messing with him, but the air felt clearer then. Your arrival cleared a fog in his mind, and he didn’t even know your name. So he told you his instead, his gloved hand touching yours for the first time in what seemed to be just a polite handshake. Looking back on it now, perhaps that was the first sign. 

You told him your name, trying not to stare at the man in front of you. His eyes were so… kind. They were big and round and full of wonder, maybe a little dampened by age. Kind but tired. They should’ve been just as average as any other set of eyes you’ve seen, but when the sunlight hit them just right, it reminded you of swirls of honey. The rest of him surely didn’t disappoint. Maybe a few seconds in, you realized you must’ve been gawking at him, so you said your goodbyes and tried to forget about it on the way home.

Not that you could, but he couldn’t either. 

A couple of weeks had passed. His patrols happened less often now with him working so much during the day. Between the bills and the pressure of being a functioning adult, Peter found it difficult to keep his head above water. He stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror he got from May’s old stuff. He was older. He was sadder. The suit still fit as well as it could, but squeezing into it was more of a chore now than an exciting flipping-of-the-switch into his alter-ego. His hands shook, if only for a moment, before he pulled down the mask over his head. The fire escape creaked under his weight before bouncing back into place as Spider-Man finally leaped off and swung into the night.

“It’s just another patrol,” he reminded himself. “You get this done and you can get some sleep.” 

It must’ve been two hours into his patrol when he heard you. His ears perked up at the sound of your voice. Before he could even register what was happening, his body was already swinging its way to you.

“Sherlock!” you called out. “Sherlock! Where are you?”

This was impossible. You loved your dog to bits but you’d think he’d think twice before dashing away from you at the slightest rustle of a bush.

“You need some help?” a voice came from behind you.

You jumped and swung your fist at whoever it was. Peter managed to narrowly avoid your sucker punch so he stepped back and held up his hands, in fear of freaking you out even more.

“WOAH! Woah, woah, hey…” he tried to calm you down, his actions about as frantic as your own. “I’m Spider-Man! I’m here to help!”

Red and blue spandex. Wide white lenses. Your mind finally processed what was going on in front of you. Spider-Man was here. 

Holy shit, Spider-Man was here.

Once again, you were apologizing to him. Not that you would ever know that it was the same person. You explained that you were trying to find your dog, and he listened. He clung to your every word, whether he meant to or not. That same fog in his head cleared up and soon he found himself engaging in easy conversation with you as you both searched the neighborhood for your dog. He felt light, like this was the simplest thing ever. Why was it so easy to be with you?

How long has it been since he was in the company of someone other than May? Someone who wasn’t from Midtown High who would awkwardly comment on how different he looked. Someone who wasn’t from the Bugle who would sneer at him every time he messed up because he was exhausted. How long has it been since he spent time with somebody who could get to know him the way normal people did? 

He tried to shake off these thoughts. Who said anything about the two of you getting to know each other anyway? Peter looked back at you from the dark alleyway. You were on the opposite side of the street from him, hellbent on finding Sherlock. A happy bark echoed from his side of the street. The puppy he once could’ve scooped up with one arm was now thrice the size of what it used to be. Sherlock stopped to smell Peter. The dog barked once again, as if to say “Hi, I remember you!”, and then ran back to you before you could burst into tears of frustration.

For a minute or two, Peter stayed just to watch. You were so gentle with your pup, so genuinely concerned for its wellbeing that it struck something inside of him. With how long he’s been Spider-Man and how much he lost as a consequence of it, he often forgot that people like you still existed. He forgot that there were still good people in this world, people who would do the same thing he did if they were the ones bitten by a radioactive spider. People that would help a tourist get to their hotel safely, reunite a mother with their child or, like you, spend the rest of the night looking for their dog in the freezing cold. 

Peter tried to leave as soon as he could because there was something about you he couldn’t quite figure out and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like not knowing what it was about you that rekindled a flame in him he thought he’d lost. You didn’t even get a chance to thank him properly. He shot one web after another and then it was back to work.

Your voice and Sherlock’s cheerful barks echoed after him, “Thank you, Spider-Man!” 

He felt himself smiling underneath the mask. Even if it was just for that night, he felt like the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man again. For you, the walk home was peaceful, even with the ever-present noise of the city in the background, but you felt safe. Since that first meeting with the masked hero, you’d feel that someone was watching you every now and then… and you knew exactly who it was. It was always a blip of red and blue in your peripheral, but it was more than enough. 

In February, you got laid off from your job. You’d seen it coming but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t a complete pain in the ass. You just turned up to work, got handed your box of stuff, and sent on your way. It all happened so fast. Next thing you knew, you were sitting in some dingy old bar, your box of stuff forgotten in the trunk of your car while you nursed your drink. Some guy took a seat a couple of stools away from you, huffing as he rested his head on the counter.

It took you a while to recognize him.

“Hey! We’ve met before… Peter, right?” 

Peter sat upright then, an awkward smile adorning his face as he turned to you. He stopped himself from speaking right away. After all, you met him once. He met you twice, both as himself and Spider-Man. He had to keep that in mind. 

“Oh, uh, yeah! From Central Park?”

You laughed, “Yeah. From Central Park.”

There it was again. The ease of the conversation. The natural flow of your back and forth banter. He couldn’t tell if it was just you or his heart finally giving in after years of self-isolation that brought about this sense of calm, but he was grateful for it all the same. You told him about what just happened earlier that day and… something pushed Peter to just take one more step into the deep end.

“You could come work at the Bugle,” he blurted out. Fuck. You’re so stupid, Peter.

“What? The Daily Bugle? The newspaper?” you repeated in disbelief, all of your attention now on him as you shifted in your seat. It was overwhelming. Why was it so overwhelming? This was only the third time he’s talked to you!

Maybe it was liquid courage, but he found himself nodding and just going down the rabbit hole of trying to convince you to apply, “I mean, you’ve been at that company for how many years? And I heard they don’t just hire anyone, too. If anyone could land a spot at the Bugle, it’s you,”—he grinned and put on an accent—”mi amigo.”

You stared at him, perplexed. Then, a smile. You were his friend.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiled back, trying to hold back the hope blooming in his chest. “I guess… I’ll be seeing you again soon?” 

You wasted no time writing down your number on a piece of tissue and sliding it over to him, “You bet, Parker.”

In the safety of his one-bedroom apartment, Peter smiled at the messy line of numbers you scrawled on the two-ply tissue. He called you the day after, eagerly telling you abut what life at the Bugle was like. In true Spidey fashion, he was honest about it. His horror stories of his boss didn’t seem to faze you at all. In fact, it only made you more determined to apply and prove yourself. He admired that.

One call became two, and two became three. And one after that… and another after that. That wasn’t counting the daily texting that ensued in between. Peter found himself looking forward to your texts in the morning, when he finally fixed his sleep schedule just enough to wake up before his alarm started blaring. By the time you were officially an employee of the Daily Bugle, he couldn’t contain his excitement. 

It was exhilirating to not be alone anymore. It was even better when he realized your cubicle was just right next to his. Peter made it his mission to ensure your work experience was a fun and pleasant one. It was so unequivocally him to do something like that. Each gesture started out small: he decorated your desk with two succulents when you started out. After a while, he would leave candy on top of your paperwork while you went to the bathroom. He always denied this. Then there were the sticky notes.

Peter didn’t come to work regularly, he was juggling two other freelance jobs most of the time but he always, without fail, managed to leave a sticky note on your computer if he wasn’t going to be around the next day. Like his other acts of kindness, these started small too. Imagining him hunched over a desk and writing these notes just for you made you more flustered than you could even begin to admit.

“Don’t forget to eat!”

“You’re doing such a good job :)”

“YOU’RE SO AWESOME!!! >:D”

But your favorite, favorite one, the one you kept safe in your phone case, was the note he left when you finished some of his paperwork for him. The two of you never spoke about the notes he left, both too scared to ruin the comfortable dynamic you’ve created. The very next morning, that familiar bright yellow poked out from in between the stacks of paper on your desk. You remembered the warmth you felt as you read his words. Something about his handwriting only intensified that.

“My hero :D Tell me how to make it up to you, you beautiful human being,” followed by a doodle of you in a Spider-Man costume. 

One day, when he’s ready, maybe Peter would tell you how you saved a life just because you finished his work for him. In your own act of kindness, you allowed him to start his patrol earlier and save a teenage girl from getting mugged, or worse. When you invited him over to your house that weekend and saw the angry bruise on on his cheekbone, he let you tend to the cuts that were littered all over his body. He let himself bask in your gentleness and care and sweetness and everything that made you, you. You asked him if he got attacked. He shook his head and ignored the sting of the hydrogen peroxide. 

“I fell into some bushes while hiking. Turns out it had thorns,” he lied. Lying to you didn’t feel great.

Instead of prying any further, you laughed and told him to be more careful. He could’ve sworn the room felt brighter then. 

In June, May came over to his apartment to drop off some good homemade food; something she was sure he had gone far too long without, since his culinary taste consisted solely of instant noodles and microwaveable meals. The TV hummed in the background as the older woman made some small talk with her nephew. The realization that he was no longer a little boy dawned on her. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened, but it was a hard pill to swallow. May saw how tired and beaten down he was, especially after Gwen’s death, and it wasn’t until recently that she noticed a change in the young man. The stubble he always forgot to shave was nowhere to be seen, his unkempt hair finally trimmed into a manageable shape, and his eyes were brighter. He was still tired, but he was happy. For a brief moment, she saw the little boy she used to bathe and sing to before bed. 

Peter was too busy munching on the chicken casserole she prepared to see his aunt smiling at him. Finally, she decided to speak up.

“Who is it, Peter?”

He looked up, not expecting the question, “Who’s what?”

“Who’s making you happy?” 

Peter thought about it for a while, not sure if the answer he’ll give was actually the right one to describe what had transpired these last few months, “I made a friend, I guess. They’re really nice and uh… they just started working for the Bugle. So. I see them more often.”

May nodded, a content smile on her face as she processed the information. A coworker. A friend.

“Tell me about them, they seem nice.”

Peter hesitated for a second, only to be reminded of your face and your bad jokes and your dog. Nice was an understatement. You were amazing.

“They are. Nice, I mean. We just sort of ran into each other at Central Park and then I saw them again a couple of months later and I recognized them. They’re… they make me feel comfortable. Appreciated, you know? I haven’t had somebody to talk to like this since—” he stopped. 

Since. 

Since Gwen.

In the time Peter’s known you, not once did he think about her. Then that horrible sinking feeling in his gut came. Years of falling and learning how to get back up went down the drain because he was reminded once again of what he lost. His thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, all of them connecting back to that one fact that he was sure would haunt him forever: Gwen Stacy was dead and she would stay dead and Peter couldn’t do anything about that, no matter how much he wished he could. Somewhere, deep down, a part of him never really grew up. How could he? What gave him the right to live the life he wanted when she couldn’t live hers because he couldn’t catch her?

Then you came into his life and pulled him out of his self-imposed exile. All at once, it was you flooding his senses and you weren’t even there. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

May could only watch her nephew go through a whole lifetime’s worth of pain all over again. In a flash, he was gone. May Parker was alone.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to leave his apartment. He couldn’t bear to let May see him like that again. He couldn’t… It felt too much like the first time. It felt too much like losing his uncle and his girlfriend. He didn’t want to relive it. New York’s skies were painted pink and orange as the sun began to set, but all he could think about was getting away. His feet simply walked and walked and walked, his mind in a haze until finally, finally, he stopped at the headstone that haunted him for so long.

Gwendolyne Maxine Stacy

Beloved daughter and friend

March 2, 1996 - July 2014

A breath he didn’t know he was holding in escaped him. It had been nearly a decade since she died. She would’ve been twenty-seven. The air felt colder somehow, but Peter, even with his scientific mind, wanted to believe that she was there with him in that moment. He wanted to believe that Gwen Stacy never truly left. It was true, in a way. It was Peter that kept her alive, even if it was only in memory. 

“Gwen, help me out,” he whispered. “Help me out, please. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

He struggled to keep his composure.

“I met someone, Gwen. It was an accident. Their dog was all over the place and for some reason, he chose me. Gave me his ball to throw. And then they came along and GOD! They’re just— They’ve been nothing but kind to me, but I just can’t… I can’t do that to you. Never to you. And I know what you would say and how I’m an idiot but,” his voice wavered. “How can I ever look at anybody else the way I looked at you?”

Soft footsteps came from behind him.

“You can’t, sweetheart,” May placed her hand on his shoulder. “You can’t look at anybody that way you did Gwen. What you had with her was special. It was you and her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start something new. Something entirely different and just as special. You know this is what she would’ve wanted for you, why would you deny her that, Peter?”

The dam broke. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

May held him tight. She didn’t know how long she stayed there in the cold with Peter, but the moment that little boy was left on her doorstep, she knew she would do anything for him. No longer was he little, but he was her boy, and he always will be. If she had to rub circles on his back for as long as he needed to pour his heart out to the world, she would do it. So she did.

You didn’t hear from Peter for the next few days. He always managed to evade you at work and when you did see him, he avoided your gaze and left as soon as he could instead of hanging around to chat about random stuff like he always did. You would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. Peter was probably your first true friend in this city. He looked out for you in ways nobody ever bothered to, even people you’ve known your whole life. Peter Parker was your friend and you were determined to get to the heart of the problem and fix it.

Miraculously, you caught him just as he was about to leave the lobby. Hearing his name from your lips stopped him in his tracks, so he turned around to face you. You knew what he was going to say. It was going to be another excuse to leave and not talk to you.

“Oh, hey!” he greeted lamely. “Look, I can’t stay around for too long, I have to—”

“Cut the shit, Parker,” you hissed. If it came out harsher than you intended, you didn’t care. You deserved to know whatever it was that made him start avoiding you like the plague. “What’s going on with you? And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because it’s definitely something!”

He was caught. With nothing else up his sleeves, he pleaded quietly, “Not here. I’ll tell you, I promise, I just… Not here.”

A couple of hours later, you were face to face with his door. You hesitated to knock and as if on cue, Peter opened the door with a tired smile. His hair was damp and he was dressed in a shirt much too large for him and plaid sweatpants. He smelled of cheap bar soap and mint toothpaste. For a moment, all you could feel was him. It took all of your strength to push that thought to the back of your mind. There was a more important matter at hand, and that was figuring out what was bothering your friend.

He ushered you inside and you both awkwardly next to each other on his worn out couch. The broken leather pricked your legs every now and then through the old bedsheet Peter covered the couch with. All the confidence you mustered up throughout the day to confront him was lost now. You fiddled anxiously with the strings of a throw pillow, avoiding Peter’s gaze.

He broke the silence, “I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself recently but… what I did to you this week was wrong. Sorry. Again.” 

You sighed. This wasn’t easy at all. The words came out before you could think, “I know. I just wish you would tell me. I think I deserve to at least know why you’ve been acting this way.”

Your heart thrummed in both anticipation and fear. Peter, with his enhanced everything, could hear it. That’s when he took in the sight before him. You were so gorgeous; an angel on Earth in his eyes. You, so beautiful in ways he didn’t think was possible, sat in his living room because you were concerned. May’s words of wisdom echoed in his mind. She was right. What he had with Gwen was special, she was his first love, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t form something new. It took all this time to realize he wanted to build that with you. Your eyes told him everything you didn’t say out loud. You cared. You cared, you cared, you cared. He loved you.

Peter Parker loved you. He just had to figure out a way to say it.

He was sure he looked weird in that moment. You stared at him so intensely, trying to figure out the enigma that was his emotions. His hands found yours and the first thing you could think was how warm they were. He squeezed, as if trying to reassure himself that you were real and that this was happening.

“I lost someone. She… she was my girlfriend,” he began shakily, trying to find the right words to describe the massive lump of something in his chest. “Her name was Gwen. We met in high school. All these years, I’ve tried to hold on to her. You know, to keep her alive in some way. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that maybe I was doing more harm than good.”

There it was. It was all out in the open now, bits and pieces of his heart sprawled out across the floor as he waited for your reaction. Thousands of scenarios ran through his head, all of them ending in you leaving him alone. Each version of you in his mind reflected the guilt he bottled up for nearly a decade, screaming at him and cursing him for the things he’s done and the things he couldn’t do. Then he felt your arms wrap around him. He didn’t even realize he was already crying.

“Peter Parker, you are a good person. I might not know the full story, but if she loved you as much as you loved her, then I know for a fact that she would want you to be happy. You deserve that. She deserves that.” 

You prepared yourself for his protest; for him to rebut everything you just said. You hoped you said the right thing but nothing could’ve prepared you for what he said next.

“If you keep saying things like that, I’ll fall in love with you even more.”

It was so quiet, just a little above a hushed whisper that you could almost fool yourself into thinking he didn’t say it if it wasn’t for that fact that his hold on you got tighter. He must’ve seen the confusion on your face because he spoke again, “I hated myself for falling in love with you because I thought it was a disrespect to Gwen’s memory. I wish I couId say I didn’t see it coming. I always knew I would love you. I just didn’t want to see it.”

For a few moments, the two of you just stayed there, his confession lingering in the air you breathed. It might be a trick of the mind, but you knew it was sweet. Peter pulled away; too kind, too selfless, too afraid to consider the possibility that you might just feel the same.

“Peter—”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” 

“Peter—” 

“—ruin everything we had, I just couldn’t—”

“Peter!”

He gulped, clearly not expecting you to stop him from rambling. In his mind, you deserved an apology. In yours, you deserved a chance to speak.

“Peter,” you spoke softly, trying to reassure him that you weren’t offended in any way. “Have you ever once considered that maybe I like you too?” 

Ever since he got bitten by that spider, Peter learned to tune out the stimuli in his environment. It used to bother him so much; hearing and smelling and feeling everything all at once got overwhelming. Now, when all his senses pointed back to you, he finds he doesn’t mind at all. In that moment, he was so sure he’d die a happy man if your face was the last thing he ever saw. It took him a while to respond to your own confession, too wrapped in all of you to think clearly.

He asked you if you were sure. You said yes. He asked you again. You kissed him. 

The feeling of your lips on his both grounded him and blew him away. Somewhere in between that make-out session, his hands found yours. He decided this felt right. Maybe Peter will never fully overcome his own insecurities, and there was a lot of them. He was worried he was too tired, too beaten-down for you… and that didn’t even begin to describe the fear he felt knowing that you would have to find out about Spider-Man at some point. Again, he was reminded of your friendship and your kindness. You had given it to him so freely. He just needed to take another leap of faith and learn to trust himself as much as you did.

When November came, Peter didn’t find the air so chilly anymore. Not with you around.

[vintagegirl01]

Loving you is a losing game

Marc Spector x fem! reader (Steven and Jake are mentioned briefly)

Summary: Marc meeting you was one of the best things to have happen to him. However, the demons of his past make him feel otherwise. You help him see that the love you share is one that should be fought for.

A/N: This is what I thought while listening to the song Arcade by Duncan Laurence. Of course with a happier twist.

A/N 2: Purely for entertainment purposes, so please don’t come after me. As I said, I'm still getting used to writing pieces like this.

Marc Spector’s life has never been easy. From the trauma of his young brother’s death to everything he’s during his time as Khonshu’s avatar, he’s felt like a ticking time bomb. Though he’s tried to use his time as Moon Knight to right his wrongs, it never feels like it’s enough.

When he meets you, he begins to see that there is more to life than vengeance. Marc begins to let himself enjoy your presence when he and you hit it off at the gym.

You weren’t a gym rat by any means but you had started a membership in the hopes of getting in shape and learning self-defense by using their punching bag. Seeing you hit the bag by yourself catches his attention and he begins to give you some pointers on how to improve your stance. Over time, this leads to you becoming sparring partners and eventually exchanging phone numbers. Although,this leads to you all regularly hanging out outside your sparring hours.

The day he asked you out was a shock for him because not only did he actually let himself be brave enough to ask the question but you eagerly accepted his invitation. It’s even more surprising to find out that one date led to another. Then another until you both have officially unofficially started dating.

Despite everything going well, he knew that there were things he needed to tell you. About his DID. His past. Being the avatar to an Egyptian deity in exchange to right the wrongs from his ugly past.

This then leads him to begin feeling self conscious about himself. His inner dialogue begins to consist of questions such as: What if he didn’t deserve this chance at happiness? What if she thinks I’m crazy or thinks I’m making this up?

Marc then begins to hear his mother’s voice. Telling him that he is unworthy of receiving love and will only continue to destroy all the lives that he surrounds himself with. Steven and Jake try to snap him out of this but Marc is paralyzed. At this moment, Marc only thinks one thing.

“I have to break up with her before I hurt her”, Marc thought.

_____________________________________

“Marc, this isn’t funny. Stop joking, you say.

“I’m not joking. I think we should break up,” said Marc.

“But why, Marc? Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course, you didn’t. You’ve been the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

“Then why are you doing this?” You take your hand in his, looking at him sadly. “Please, tell me why you’re acting as if I’m a disease.”

“Imthedisease.” He says as if he’s trying to rip off a bandage.

“What, baby?”

“I said, I'm the disease. I seep into innocent lives and destroy them.” He looks at you tearfully.

“Marc, that’s silly. What are you talking about?”

Marc then begins to explain everything. From the death of his younger brother to the lives he took during his time as a mercenary. He also makes sure to mention that he is the vigilante, Moon Knight, and has two other individuals living within his head. He concludes all of this by saying, “Loving me is a losing game.”

Once he’s done explaining all of this, Marc is waiting to see your reaction to all this. Will you call him crazy? Run away from him? Scream?

Instead, you take his hands in your own.

“Loving you isn’t a losing game, Marc,” you tell him. I love you and long as we have each other, we can face whatever life throws at us.”

At this, Marc pulls you into a big hug. He lets himself break down because he knows that you’re here to stay and love him. For his strengths and weaknesses, through good and bad times. He knows you will be there for him.

As you two are still embracing, he starts to believe that he is worth loving after all.

[chaifootsteps]

Hi Chai,

Since I know you are not a transmisogynist, what are some of your favorite transfem characters or characters you hc as transfem?

Btw this is the Malva anon again, I've been sending asks more than once but I realized I may be a regular asker now lol

GL with Bluesky

*Rubs hands eagerly*. Gladly! Let's talk about some ladies!

Rachel Bighead from Rocko's Modern Life

My friend and I were watching this in VC the other night and Rachel's probably my favorite example of how to "trans" a character, especially one that's been around for a long time, right. Nothing about it feels shoehorned or asspulled or like it was done to appease a board somewhere. Ralph's defining characteristic throughout Rocko's original run was being absolutely miserable all the time, no matter how much success in life he achieved, and so when we learn that he went off soul searching and discovered Rachel was the answer? It made perfect, beautiful sense.

Rachel's just...amazing. She's dry as ever, but unflappably confident. She's Ralph at perfect peace, and the journey we see the Bighead family go on? Bev's immediate acceptance, Ed's tearful epiphany that that little tadpole who damaged his retina is still right in front of him, and the three of them hugging? God, this part of the special was so good. Rachel's so good.

Also, I ship her with Rocko like whoa.

2. Grell Sutcliffe from Black Butler

I freaking love Grell. She's absolutely nuts, has an awesome design and a kickass weapon, and was surprisingly poignant and not-meanspirited considering the time period the show came out in. I love how the English dub has her give a kind of orgasmic bird squawk every time something goes right for her. 10/10, would support every last one of her woman's wrongs.

(Incidentally, Grell's one of the reasons it annoys me when people call me transmysogynist based off my opinions on Arcee, because let me tell you, I did my tour of duty back during the Grell Wars.)

3. Jerry/Daphne from Some Like it Hot

First of all, this movie's amazing and if you haven't watched it and don't know the very famous ending, go remedy that right now. And then chase it with this fic. I'll wait.

I'm firmly in the camp that believes Jerry/Daphne is genderfluid, and holy cow, is this a lovely little story of self-discovery and falling in love. It's just so special to me. It makes me smile like a damn fool every single time.

4. Fem!Shep from Mass Effect

Okay, this one's kind of cheating because Shepards are customizable and can be anything you want, but I loved the idea from the get-go. That's in part because fem!Shep's model still moves like male!Shep, and it's especially noticeable when she sits, but it also just kind of feels fitting with a lot of the dialogue options. In conclusion, my Shepard was great and I need to replay that game with Legendary Edition because I miss her deeply.

5. Maevaris Tilani from Dragon Age

Mae's wonderful on so many levels and she's a character I'm very excited to meet face-to-face in Veilguard. She's stunning, an absolute powerhouse, she's good friends with my my beloved Dorian, and her relationship with her late chubs hubby was beautiful. I'm pretty sure she's not going to be romanceable, but if she was, I think my Rook would be doomed.

6. Hana from Tokyo Godfathers

This movie's a treasure and so is Hana. I like that she's old, she's stubbly, she doesn't pass flawlessly, but by god, if anyone deserves to be a mom, it's her.

7. Angel from Rent

Another genderfluid character! At least, that's my best guess. I've always loved that we have no fucking clue exactly what flavor of genderqueer Angel is, that not even the cast seems unanimous on it.

I loved Rent when I was younger, thought it was so deep and profound, and it's kinda not but Angel was easily my favorite character. Still is.

8. The Laughing Cow and the Lactaid Cow

They're cows that don't have udders and they're gay and in love, I don't make the rules.

9. Anode and Lug

Transfem lesbian bots from RiD's (the comic run IDW Arcee is from) much more competently written sister series, they're a demonstration of how to do it right. I like that one transitioned medically and the other didn't. Anode features very prominently in my Arcee fix-it fic and I grew very attached to her while writing it.

10. Marco from Star vs. the Forces of Evil

I'm gonna level with you, I never actually watched this show. But I was very invested in this one back in the day and disappointed when it never came true.

Honorable mention: Art the Clown from Terrifier

While I don't exactly headcanon Art as transfem, there's a fic on ao3 that explored the idea and I kind of dug it. I could see Art much younger, with many possible futures laid out, and that being one of them. I think if something fundamental hadn't broken in his soul/brain, he would have been either trans or a fruity old drag queen, happy as a clam.

Mind you, this is all fanon talk. My jaw would hit the floor with horror if this became canon and Art would go straight on the pile of characters I get yelled at for "misgendering" because if I refuse to swallow rotten food.

[hughiecampbelle]

Petals (Roy!Sibling x Connor Roy)

Character/s: Connor, Shiv, Roman, Logan, Willa, Marcia

Word Count: 1,315

Requested: hello! is it okay if i request more roy baby sibling and connor? i’d like to see them asking connor to dance at shiv’s wedding (or maybe even at his wedding?)! thank you :) - anon

Requested: your younger roy sibling hcs have been rotting my brain recently and now im imagining 8 year old them making a drawing for connor's birthday that is them holding hands with big hearts and "wish you were my daddy" written in big kid letters (probably with spelling mistakes) and connor just like. sobbing when he reads it. i feel like hed be such a big father role to a significantly younger sibling (i personally imagine them and roman having a around 10 year gap, so thats probably like ~35 years of different between them and connor). and we all know what a shitty dad logan is/was, so i can see younger sibling calling connor after some big fight with logan and crying while begging him to pick them up and let them live with him and it breaks his heart cause logan would never let it happen and he tried but couldnt protect ken and shiv and rome and he just wishes he could at least protect his baby sib but he just cant and it kills him. anyway happy thursday thought haha roy family brainrot - @fromirkwood

Inspired By: Petals on the Moon by Wasia Project

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: I know the second one wasn't exactly a request, but I couldn't get it out of my head!!! Big Bro Connor is my absolute favorite!! I hope this doesn't rot in your brain too long my love lol. I just couldn't get it out of my head, especially when it was combined with the other request!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Time is a thief, at least that’s what he thinks when he looks at you, spinning with your sister on the dance floor. Your smile is so bright, so wide, your cheeks flushed. You drank too much, no doubt it was Roman refilling your glass without your notice. The song picks up speed, picks up in joy, and you break out into laughter, you and Shivy. It’s as if you’re in your own world and only she’s in it. You spin and jump and sing along, your niece and nephew beside you and the bride. He hasn’t seen you this electric, this alive, so much like your old self, in weeks. Connor considered himself lucky to be able to watch, to bear witness. Just moments ago you were a baby, doodling with your thick crayons, mistakenly calling him Dad instead of Logan. Only recently had he learned that's who he was in your phone, Dad, that Logan was simply Logan. Years pass, but so little changes. He still had all your fathers day cards stashed away, hidden before your real father caught what you were doing. Stick figures, one tall, one small, hand in hand surrounded by flowers and butterflies and other bugs. Happy Fathers Day Connor. Your uppercase letters always slanted, crooked, his name spelled with one N instead of two. It wasn’t long until his figure started sprouting gray hair, graying far earlier than anyone else in the family, and yours grew taller every year. Connor feared you might have forgotten about him, that you were getting too old to need your eldest brother like your siblings had, but you proved him wrong after that night. 

You hadn’t even wanted to go to the wedding. It was so bad. Whatever was said and done remained a mystery. You wouldn’t tell him, tell anyone, just that it was bad. He’d gone with Willa to pick something out for you, knowing you left the house with nothing. You refused to try it on, to come out of the spare bedroom. It wasn’t until the day before when they were getting ready to leave, accepting that there was no way you were going, did you come out with your outfit packed. You weren’t going to miss Shiv's big day because of him, you declared, and it was settled. He couldn’t contain his excitement, grinning from ear to ear. Letting her down, letting him down, just because of your old man, it seemed like a cruel punishment. You sat beside him in the plane, his hand on your knee, trying to disregard the dread in your chest. They’d all heard about your big blow out, they all wanted to know, going to Connor first instead of you. You were the closest, you told him everything. When he had nothing to say, when all he could offer was a warning, it said something, something more than he was expecting: whatever happened got to you. It genuinely hurt you. They imagined the worst, unsure of what to do. He was at a loss, too. Your father could say and do as he pleased, you’d always been the best at ignoring him, especially when he was in one of his moods, but this time? This time was different. It stung more than all of the other fights you’d had with him, and there were some memorable ones. Never had you yelled back like that, never had you stormed out in a fury, never had you sobbed to your brother like that on the phone. This wasn’t the kind of thing that would go away on its own. It wouldn’t heal with time. 

He could almost forget the crack in your voice as he watched you now. That sad, crying child looked so different from the young adult on the dance floor. Eventually you came over to him, asking him to dance. As if on cue, a slower song came on. This was far different than the last time you danced together. You stood on his shoes, swaying, giggling that high pitched giggle, the one that made his heart melt. You were so little then, so tiny, he was scared to let go. Now you swayed on your own, your arms around him as if you’re scared he’ll flee, your face buried into his chest. Thank you for letting me stay with you. It came out mumbled, muffled, but he understood. Anytime, kiddo. You’re a pleasure to have. Your eyes were big when you looked up at him, as if trying to decipher if he was telling the truth or not. His smile, so reassuring, told you he meant it. I’m sorry about Pops. you shook your head, not wanting to hear his name, not wanting your brother to carry the guilt for him. If he was going to apologize you were going to hear it from him. Not anyone else. Connor spent the entire night putting distance between the two of you, becoming your human shield. Logan, it seemed, had completely forgotten about the whole ordeal, kissing Shiv, saying hello to your brothers, like nothing was amiss. They each shared a glance, all looking to Connor for help, for guidance, just like they had when they were little. He knew what he had to do. How bad was it, kiddo? He asks. Bad. It’s all you can say without upsetting yourself all over again. 

He called you his greatest failure. Spineless. A mistake. You don’t remember how it started, only that you were bleeding out on the floor before him and he refused to put the knife down. A plague to the Roy name, a curse, a bad seed. You never should have been born. A loser. Incompetent. He’s not sure where you came from, but you are certainly not his. You should be smarter, work harder, but instead you are nothing, you are nobody. No one has ever or will ever love you. It hits you so hard, so forcefully, it knocks the wind out of you. He means it, he means every word, but especially that. That’s what kills you, that’s what makes the tears slip down your cheeks. That’s not true, you try to spit back, but he’s not listening and you’re crying, and you’re proving him right. He keeps talking. You can’t hear it, though. You’re gone. You’ve retreated into yourself, so far back he cannot possibly get you. You stand there, unmoving, as he gets in your face. No one has or will ever love you. No one has or will ever love you. It plays on loop, again and again until you cannot breathe. Finally you back away, you run from him, slamming each door behind you. Marcia calls out to you, hearing what went down, but nothing can stop you. Through the busy sidewalks, sobbing uncontrollably, you call him. You can’t repeat what he said, you still can’t. You know that would make him furious, all of them, and it is not their burden to carry. A quiet fear has settled in the back of your mind: what if he’s right? 

If he knew, if Connor knew, he would have killed his father. No one said that to his baby, no one ever dared talk to you that way. But he doesn’t, and he never will. You have vowed to yourself that neither him nor your other siblings will know, for fear that they might agree with him. That they’ll show you he’s right. Instead they watch you carefully, ready to intervene should that be necessary. You hold on to him tight long after the song ends, not wanting to let go, to be alone with Logan's words. Connor doesn’t mind at all. He’s his happiest when his siblings need him, when you need him. He’ll always be there to rescue you. Always. It’s his job, you’re his greatest love. You all are.

[fruitymocha]

Laboratory of Love

Starring: Idia as The Creation, Ortho as The Assistant, and You as The Mad Scientist

Warnings: Yandere themes, mental instability, mentions of corpses and general post-mortem shit, violence/violent tendencies, murder, and psychological torment (both self inflicted and from an outside source). I DO NOT CONDONE ANYONE’S ACTIONS IN THIS STORY. THIS IS PURELY FICTION AND SHOULD NOT BE EMULATED. DNI IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 16, ARE EASILY FRIGHTENED, OR DO NOT LIKE DARK/YANDERE THEMES.

A/N: you guys! As of writing this author’s note, Little Songbird has over 90 likes! Thank you guys so much for the interactions, it means a lot, especially since I was kinda worried it wouldn’t be received well when I first posted it. Also yes, I know it’s been a year, but it’s fine, just go with it. This literally has been sitting in my drafts collecting dust since last October, so it’s about time I resurrect this thing (yes this is a purposeful joke). I hope that you guys enjoy Laboratory of Love just as much as Little Songbird, and without further ado…

Round and round we rewind the reel…

Y/N L/N. That is my name. My mission is to investigate the world of the living and find the spark of life.

Unfortunately, the people outside are cold and unyielding to modern science. They are stuck in their old ways, believing my research and experiments to be… sacrilegious.

Hence why my secret lab is hidden away in an abandoned tower. It’s close enough to the city that I can easily acquire modern equipment and resources, but also foreboding enough to keep people away. Or did my reputation do that for me? Who knows.

“Ortho, have you acquired the book?”

“Yes Doctor. The Book of Shadows, as you requested,” The young boy handed me a thick leather book, his fiery blue hair flickering in child-like joy.

“Thank you, Ortho,”

“You’re welcome, Doctor,” I flipped through the pages, hoping to find its alchemy section. “Doctor, do you think science and magic are compatible?”

“There’s only one way to find out, Ortho, and you know what it is,”

“Aren’t you worried about what could happen if you use dark magic?” I sighed.

“Ortho, we’ve been over this,” I said, focused on the alchemical symbols in the Book of Shadows. “I don’t believe in ‘dark’ magic. There’s no such thing as ‘light’ or ‘dark’. Society simply deems ‘light’ to be the ‘safe’ and acceptable type of magic, while ‘dark’ is more dangerous and selfish. But if humanity never trifled with danger, we would never be where we are today. We would still be at Nature’s mercy,”

“I understand now, Doctor. But please be careful!”

“You know I will, Ortho. They may call me mad as much as they want, but I have no death wish. I know how to take precaution,”

Ortho. Another societal outcast. Allegedly cursed with his fiery hair, and considered a bad omen. They said his blue locks were from the fires of Hell. So I took him in as my assistant, and I found him to be quite curious and inclined to help. A perfect job for him. Society may call me many things, but to call me cruel would be untrue.

“Doctor, what do you plan to do?”

“Learn the ways of Nature, and acquire that power for myself,” I said simply

“…why?” I thought about it hard. Then I knew.

“My time in university could not satisfy my thirst, so I will seek out the solution myself,”

“It’s only been a few months since your graduation, Doctor,”

“Yes, and that means all my higher education is still somewhat fresh in my mind, Ortho. It will help me,” I stared off for a moment before something struck me as odd.

“I still don’t understand why you call me Doctor, Ortho… I have not earned a doctorate degree,” I said slowly

“Because I think you deserve the title, Doctor,”

I closed the Book of Shadows, and silently turned to the setting sun out the window.

“Ortho?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

I thought for a moment. Am I sure I want to do this?

I sighed, and said it anyway.

“Where is the nearest cemetery?”

~*~

“Are you sure we won’t get caught, Doctor?”

“To be quite frank with you Ortho, getting caught is a very real possibility. If you’re not up for the risk, you can go back to the lab-”

“No. I- I want to help you,” I sighed while looking at the blue-haired boy.

“Okay. Let’s find some corpses,” I handed Ortho the smaller of the two shovels I brought. “Let’s get digging,” I walked in a random direction, with Ortho following close behind, looking for recently dead, young male bodies.

First Gravestone

We dug down and inspected his body. Unfortunately he wasn’t a good candidate. He died of plague.

Second gravestone

He was missing chunks of skin.

Third gravestone

His head was smashed, face unrecognizable.

Finally, we reached the fourth gravestone. We dug with less enthusiasm and more difficulty than when we started. But all the effort was worth it. The body was tall, skin sallow, head shaved. But his body was unmarked by plague or brutality. He was not rotting… yet.

“He’s perfect,” I whispered to myself.

Ortho and I loaded the corpse onto a wheelbarrow, but not before wrapping it in inconspicuous cloth tied together with rope.

We were lucky not to get caught.

As we made our way back to the lab tower, I thought about what I would do with the body. Create a puppet, perhaps?

No.

Better.

Create a sentient being.

Ambitious, but The Book of Shadows would likely have the power I need.

Now all I needed to do was find the right spell, get the materials, and do what needed to be done.

~*~

With the corpse strapped on the gurney, attached tubes and wires connecting to monitors and rudimentary electrical machines, and Book of Shadows in hand, I was ready to commence my ambitious experiment.

Thunder rumbled and rain pelted outside. I paid it no mind. I had drawn the sigils in my own blood and placed them on different areas of the body, just as instructed. Blood sigils were also drawn and dried upon my palms. Keeping the book open, I read aloud the incantation.

“Withering Corpse, cold as night

Your early death has caused you strife

I avenge your soul, I’ll make it right

I give your body the gift of life”

A blue glow began to radiate within the room, and I could feel the surge of power coursing through my veins.

The rain pelted. I paid it no mind.

The body in front of me became surrounded in a magical blue glow.

The wind shrieked. I paid it no mind.

The sigils on my palms thrummed and the drawn sigils on the corpse pulsed like beating hearts. Ortho looked on in amazement.

The thunder roared. I paid it no mind.

Any signs of the corpse’s state of death seemed to disappear, instead in a seemingly peaceful slumber.

But then lightning struck through the glass ceiling, and I did pay it mind as it struck the body.

A smaller, stray ray of lightning struck me too, and the last thing I remember was the pain of hitting the ground, and getting rained on by rainwater and broken glass.

~*~

I awoke to the sound of soft rain and Ortho by my side.

“Dr Y/N please wake up!”

I opened my eyes to see that I was in one of the spare hospital beds in my laboratory. I got out of bed, much to Ortho’s shock and worry. When my feet touched the ground, a small shock coursed through my body, and I convulsed briefly.

“Dr Y/N you need to rest, you were struck by lightning!”

“Ortho I must see him!”

Ortho sighed, but reluctantly handed me a wooden staff. I suppose it should do as a walking stick. With the stick’s support on my dominant side, and Ortho staying close by my other side, I shuffled my way to the Enrichment Room.

The Enrichment Room was a room co-designed by Ortho and I, meant for intellectual stimulation without putting too much strain. A less sophisticated way of referring to it would be The Brain Break Room. It was filled with leisure novels, puzzles, riddle books, and other activities that require some form of focus and thought.

Sitting there on the ground in a strange and twisted position, fiddling with a metal handheld puzzle, was The Creation. Instead of normal hair, he had long, blue fire, very much similar to Ortho’s. Hair from the depths of hell. His eyes were striking yellow, not unlike Ortho’s. His skin was still quite sallow, but at the very least it wasn’t post-mortem pale like it was just hours before. His mouth was slightly open, exposing his pointed teeth. Ortho also had pointed teeth, a fact I had grown accustomed to as he stepped into the role as my lab assistant.

I decided to attempt to carefully approach The Creation.

“Hello,” I said.

He looked up at me with wide, curious eyes.

“I’m the one who gave you life. You can call me Y/N,”

The Creation put down the metal puzzle and reached out a hand. The fingers were spread wide in an awkward position. It seemed that The Creation was struggling with fine motor skills. I took his hand, only for him to pull me down with him, walking stick rolling off to the side. His physical strength was remarkable! He stared, fascinated at my dominant arm, which bore red, jagged, bruise-like marks from the lightning strike. He then placed his palm on my upper arm, his own arm completely outstretched in a strange position.

“We should give him a name, Dr Y/N,” Ortho said, coming closer to The Creation. I looked into his eyes. Unaware, void of knowledge or experience, but curious.

“Ortho, I think when the time is right, he should choose his own name,”

The Creation croaked out a deep noise from his throat. I supposed he was trying to talk like Ortho and I. His existence is fascinating indeed.

When I went back to bed, I heard the creaking of footsteps, and Ortho speaking, though it sounded muffled as this was happening on the other side of the door, far from the bed.

“…be careful…need rest…tomorrow…this way…”

I turned to my side in bed, and I tried to relax so I could focus properly tomorrow. However, that proved to be quite difficult. Breakthroughs and discoveries wait for no one.

~*~

As the days went by, I noticed that The Creation had taken an interest in my work just as Ortho had. Occasionally, I would ask him to retrieve items or hold something. Otherwise, he spent many of his days in the Enrichment Room playing with the various handheld puzzles. One by one, he’s started to solve them, and I wonder just how intelligent he is.

I was just about to open one of the ingredient containers when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. The Creation looked over my shoulder, hunched, and maintaining that gloomy default expression.

“What is it?” I asked him. He pointed to Ortho, who spoke for him.

“He wants to learn how to talk,”

I looked at him for a moment, but then smiled to myself, shaking my head.

“Of course you do. And I would be more than happy to help,” I said to The Creation.

He smiled, in his own awkward, sharp-toothed way. It was charming, in its own way (though most of society would likely beg to differ).

And so, I taught him how to speak.

~*~

Weeks went by as I taught him how to be human. He learned to read. He learned to write. He soon mastered all the puzzles I had, and contented himself with disassembling and reassembling things in his free time.

He named himself Idia.

And he treated Ortho like a brother.

“Y/N,”

“Yes, Idia?” I asked, studying the Book of Shadows once more.

“I have come across this concept of ‘love’. What does it mean to love?”

I halted my study for a moment, turning to him. “Love can be many things. There is love for your family. There is love for your friends,”

“I mean romance, Y/N,”

“…that is something you will come to know when you meet someone very special,” I said finally.

“Is there anyone you love like that?”

“…in university, I knew someone, yes. That person is long gone from my life now,”

Idia stayed silent. I returned to my studies, disheartened by the conversation, and wanting to distract myself.

“…will I find someone to love me?” He asked.

I thought for a moment on how to respond.

“…I…don’t know,”

“Why not?”

“The outside world is not kind. It has not been kind to me, or to Ortho. They don’t be kind to you either,” I said, perhaps a bit harshly.

Idia did not respond anymore.

When I had time to look up from what I was doing, he was already gone.

~*~

A year has gone by since Idia’s creation. And he’s become something of a mechanical genius. He’s now the one who builds and fixes my machinery. How convenient.

But as the seasons have passed, he has become increasingly attached. Perhaps not healthy behavior. But what am I to do? His hair is blue like the flames of hell. He would be an outcast before anyone ever gave him a chance.

I felt the autumn breeze coming in through a window.

“Ortho, please close the window”

The window did slam shut. But when I looked up, it was not Ortho who shut the window.

“Idia? What brings you into the lab?”

“I’ve read more books. About love,”

“…And?”

“I want someone to love me. Make me my other half,”

“Idia, creating Life is not a simple task. Do you know what happened the night I created you? You got struck by lightning and so did I. If I do it again, especially in inclement weather, it’s very possible something could go wrong. Do you know how hard it is to find a body undamaged? Unravaged by plague? No part of this process is easy, Idia,”

“I don’t care how hard it is.” He said firmly. “Make me a lover, or I’ll make my own,”

I swallowed. It felt like my mouth was stuffed with cotton. He was serious.

“…alright. I’ll see what I can do,”

“You have one week,”

And with that, he left the lab.

~*~

It was considerably more difficult to find the second body. But I managed.

…but guilt was slowly consuming me. Idia was my best creation. A lovely, fascinating, raw creation. Proof of my conquering of Life.

But I couldn’t do it again.

So I took the body with me, and I used a rowboat to get to the center of the lake.

It was there that I dumped the sacrilegious body. I watched the corpse sink below the tides, never to be rediscovered.

I felt relief for once. Despite Idia’s threat before, I felt relief that I disposed of that body.

That relief was very short lived, and before I realized what was happening, I blacked out.

~*~

When I awoke, I was strapped to a gurney. Ortho looked at me, concerned.

“Doctor, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop him,”

Idia emerged from the shadows, wearing my lab coat and protective gear.

“I told you I would make my own lover. And guess what, Y/N? I have,”

“Who did you hurt?!”

“I didn’t go into the town, don’t worry. They are stuck in their old ways. Unyielding to modernity. Unwilling to embrace progress. But you were,” he smiled his sinister, shark toothed smile. He and Ortho looked like brothers. But knowing what my dear creation has become, that comparison felt unfair.

The restraints on the gurney unlatched, and I stumbled off.

There was an unnatural pallor to my skin.

My limbs were somewhat rigid.

Something was wrong.

I scrambled around, looking for a reflective surface. I needed to know what happened. And I found a small handheld mirror. There was dried blood on my head. My skin was unnaturally blanched.

My eyes held the blue flames of hell.

“Idia…what have you done?”

“…I only meant to knock you unconscious. I am much stronger than I thought. But it’s okay, I found your Book of Shadows. I fixed it,”

I looked at him intensely.

“…you learned from the Book of Shadows?”

“Yes,”

“…and it worked…you…you’re incredible…” I said in awe.

“Doctor, what does this mean?”

“…It means Idia, my creation, has become a creator” I said.

“Just as you reshaped me and gave me new life, I have done the same to you, Doctor Y/N,” Idia smiled a satisfactory smile. He had made me into a creation. Like him. It had finally dawned on me. He remade me in his image. The “lover” he made was me.

And I laughed. I laughed until I couldn’t breathe. Until I forgot why I was laughing. Until I started to cry as I laughed. I laughed such a laugh they would have called me mad.

Well, they already did before.

Maybe they were right.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

As long as we all held the blue flames of hell in our bodies and souls, none of it mattered.

~Fin~

[phanfictioncatalogue]

POV Through Letter Masterlist

9 Years (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne)

Summary: Dan writes a letter to Phil on their anniversary, and it might be a little bit sappy (but shh, don’t tell anyone because Dan’s still an edgy).

11:59pm (ao3) - phanspn

Summary: Loving you has been the most exquisite form of self destruction.

A Letter From Phil to Dan (ao3) - AvalonBell

Summary: Hello! I would love to inform you that I have great news! I’d like to tell you this in person except but… I’m a bit too scared to express my emotions properly. You know me, I was never really the most confident when it came to using my words. Instead, I’ve chosen to tell you this in a letter and I’ll be home by around noon in hopes to see that you haven’t chosen to pack your bags after I admit this.’

A Letter To Phil (ao3) - Lesterlockian

Summary: Dan knows that his love for Phil can't be returned, he just doesn't see him that way. Phil is starting the next chapter of his life and Dan struggled to accept this so he wrote some things down for him.

(TW) A Letter To Phil Lester (ao3) - Analphancones

Summary: Dan is sitting at a court trial, and while he waits for the judge, he writes about why exactly he killed Phil Lester, what Phil did to him, why he put up with it, and the day he finally had enough.

(TW) A Letter To The Fans, From Dan (ao3) - Analphancones

Summary: Dan heard something he wished he hadn't. Learned something he wished he hadn't. Had something happen he wished hadn't. He writes a letter to the fans, explaining.

Accidental Confessions (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Awkward teen boy tries to write a nice letter to his totally platonic bro internet friend but completely loses the point and gets a bit off track.

Accidental Confessions (ao3) - sighphil

Summary: 2009 Phan, before meeting. Phil asks Dan for a handwritten letter and it accidentally gets a bit deep.

Almost (ao3) - YourEyesHoldTheGalaxy

Summary: Phil explains why almost is his least favorite word.

An Open Letter to My Facial Hair and Its Refusal to Grow (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: I don’t understand. The houseplants are all growing. The hair on my head is growing. Phil’s fucking toenails are still growing (they scratched against my calf in the middle of the night and hurt like hell, thank you very much) but you simply refuse. You always have.

A ficlet about patience and puberties

An Open Letter to Smiley American Shop Workers (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: It’s been almost an entire year since I saw any of you. And it’s been one heck of a year, huh. I thought we’d see each other before this.

A ficlet about customer service and small talk.

breathe (ao3) - ravels (orphan_account)

Summary: you shouldn't be here. you made it a point that you were going to sleep alone, slammed the doors and stomped your feet all the way up the stairs and through the halls, adamantly, angrily.

yet here you are, stealing my duvet yet again.

(TW) dear dan (ao3) - cityscaped (touchofgold)

Summary: a collection of unsent letters from phil to dan

dear dan (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: dan writes a letter to his younger self

Dear Dan (ao3) - that_one_waffle

Summary: "Hey... Hey Bear..?

Do you remember 2022?"

Dear Dan... (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Phil writes a letter to Dan

dear dan (i love you) (ao3) - cityscaped (touchofgold)

Summary: 2022, a wedding and a letter saying 'I love you'

Dear My Future Lover (ao3) - pastelpunkdan

Summary: Dear My future lover, I've had enough

Or where Dan writes to his future lover not knowing who that person will be.

dear santa (ao3) - angelmichelangelo

Summary: dan only has one wish at christmas

Do You Remember The Time (Back In 2009) (ao3) - ggukkiebaby

Summary: Do you remember that evening back in 2009, when we sat on the fountain and looked at the stars? You laid your head on my shoulder and I held your hand, and it was perfect.

Until eventually, you were gone.

for him. (ao3) - zoeisnotonfire

Summary: Dan writes a letter to Phil.

hey phil, let's date (ao3) - byeoli

Summary: in which dan writes a confession letter to phil every month

(TW) How Could You? (ao3) - applepi314 (orphan_account)

Summary: Phil writes Dan a letter to help cope with his suicide.

I Loved Somebody Like You (ao3) - JustNeyda

Summary: A letter about loving someone like you.

i miss you. (ao3) - strawberry_saturn (vanillaxheart)

Summary: after dan and phil break up, dan is left distraught. he decides to write out his feelings, because surely the words would never be read.

I'll be home for Christmas (If only in my dreams) (ao3) - Dawninn_Gamgee

Summary: It’s funny when I think of how much I used to like Christmas, considering that now I feel like such a Grinch. But I bet you know why, and I hope you don’t judge me. Because last year was the last Christmas we spent together. But, hey, let’s start at the beginning.

A letter from Dan to Phil.

It gets better (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Dan writes an open letter to the community for Pride Month.

(TW) Letter To All The Phans (ao3) - elizabeth_isnotonfire

Summary: Dan's letter to all the Phans after he killed Phil.

Love Is Overrated (In My Mind) (ao3) - shutupfornothing

Summary: Phil writes Dan a letter after leaving.

One Last Thing (ao3) - hygge

Summary: In which Dan writes an emotional letter to Phil after his sudden passing.

Phil's Art (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan and Phil get a heavy letter from a fan and decided to respond.

Take Care (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan and Phil get a heavy letter from a fan and decided to respond.

Teased (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan writes a letter to someone who's been writing him and Phil letters.

Tempus Fugit (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Phil finds a letter on the bed. This is the content of said letter.

(TW) To my bear (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Of self harm, alcohol abuse, overdose on drugs, suicide.

Unbreakable (ao3) - YourEyesHoldTheGalaxy

Summary: Dan reflects on his relationship with Phil, in the form of a letter/email.

We Really Are Unbreakable (ao3) - YourEyesHoldTheGalaxy

Summary: Phil replies to Dan after receiving Dan’s heartfelt letter.

You & Me, Metaphorically (ao3) - houseofphan

Summary: 2015!Phil manages to send a letter to 2009!Dan to read when he's doubting himself and their relationship and to assure him everything will be okay.

Your Homecoming King (ao3) - artbabe

Summary: Dan can't see how perfect he is, but Phil wants to change that.

[highfantasy-soul]

Things I LOVED from NATLA Episode 5 - Spirited Away

Katara creating a water version of the earth disks!

Small moment, but Sokka and Aang don't jump until Katara is there and grabs their hands to lead them off in the jump onto Appa

Love that Momo's the one who picks up the acorn to give to Katara - he's so cute!

Katara calling on Gran Gran's teachings <3

"Seeds for the future, not past mistakes" - bringing back up the themes around needing to let go of past guilt so you can step into the future

Big brother Sokka 😭😭😭😭

Pipenpadalopsikopolis!!!

Zuko is such a sassy dick to Lt. Jee XD but like, kinda deserved atm as a girl with ice is kinda, really, something that should raise some flags.

But damn, Jee's face - it makes the next episode all the more satisfying

"Water the most promising seed" ooooohhhhh

"Not self-serving flattery and coy whipers" oooohhh BBUUUURRRNNNNNN

Though it burns all the more as we know that children want the approval of their mentors/parents and it's unlikely Azula has ever gotten that organically, so she feels the need to prompt it.

tHiN pLaCeS????? Sorry, Bruce from Dungeons of Drakkenheim has just primed me to fear that phrase and what it will bring.

Jumpscare where I really thought Sokka had just been yoinked into the Spirit World by that tree branch XD

Aang and Sokka bickering because Sokka can't stop talking and Aang is trying to concentrate - love the group dynamic here

Sokka's little "sshhhhhhh" in the back

Katara practicing her forms!!!

Blue Aang!!

Sokka being absolutely not here for a Spirit World journey and Katara quickly accepting it and just enjoying the ride

"When have I ever caused trouble?" 🙄 "When indeed." 😐

The most AWKWARD and NOT SLICK questioning by Zuko 😩 failing to smoothly slide the money pouch over the counter, just…he's SOOO BAD at being 'nonchalant'! He wants to just scream at you and demand you obey his orders, damn it!!!

Just Dallas' whole performance here - so fucking funny

Pirate mention! Canyon guide!! Stopped the volcano from erupting!!!

All those side quests get nice little mentions <3

Iroh's little run as he chases after Zuko throwing his tantrum 😭

JUUUUUUNNNNEEEEEEE!!!!! NYYYYYLLAAAAA!!!!!!!!!

Omg perfect. So perfect. Perfection. Gorgeously perfect. Did I mention perfect?

Zuko and Iroh's little slap fight XD

June noticing Iroh is cute 🙌

And Zuko's disgust at that 😂

Love Aang always mentioning Gyatzo and all he taught Aang - and Katara really wanting to soak in the knowledge

I like that they brought the entire Gaang into the spirit world here so we could have a natural in-road to deep character work

WON SHI TOOOOONNNNNNNNNGGGG!!!

Nice birdie!!!!

Also great touch with only Aang being able to understand him here, humans just can't

Pretty eye shot!!

Azula's blue fire!!!!!

Really like the choice to let us see her progression to the blue flame - more character development is always a good thing in my book

"Everyone knows you're perfect" "That's not good enough" - smash cut to Zuko

SOOOOO GOOOODDD - seeding her fear that if she doesn't prove herself adequately, her father will treat her like he did Zuko

Showing not telling, people! This is what that means!!!

Zuzu!! Being disgusted - love it

Love Iroh trying to seed his lessons in with pai sho anecdotes

I'm sorry, this scene is hilarious and I cannot unsee it being Iroh trying to prep Zuko for the news that he and June are a thing XD "I know it's unexpected, and she's much younger, but open up your mind to new ideas! There's much you (I) can learn from a dommy mommy."

Again, reinforcing that Zuko has a strong sense of right and wrong - right now, that's leading him down the path of following the Fire Nation's rules, but that very same integrity will be what makes him change sides

Ugh, Iroh's lessons wrapped in pai sho terminology are soooo gooooddd

Creeeeeepy spirit world!!

HEEEIIIII BBAAAIIIII!!!

Who's a cutie patootie panda bear?? YOU ARE!!!!

Oh no, Sokka!!! He went flying.

Suspicious 3-tailed fox!

Her talk about pain right here is so poignant not only for this storyline, but the future one with the ocean spirit

"Do you always make jokes when you don't want to talk about something?" - cutting right to the heart of a lot of Sokka's humor as a coping mechanism

Just… everything with Katara's spirit vision

Her getting to see her mom again and hug her, the women joking around about braiding and Kya encouraging Katara with her waterbending

The absolute gut-wrenching horror as Katara knows what's about to happen, the viewer knows what's about to happen, but the helplessness you feel as you have to watch it play out

Katara trying to save her mom but not being strong enough - it's so well done and we see why the trauma is so very deep when it comes to her and waterbending

Omg Koh's introduction was sooooo terrifying

The sounds, the way he senses despair - it's everything I love about the spirit world

Hakoda!!! DX

Bato!!!!!

I like how we're getting to see that Sokka's feelings of inadequacy as a leader and warrior aren't unfounded - he DID struggle, it didn’t come naturally

I don't blame Hakoda in this moment - he knows the war is coming and he's going to have to leave Sokka in charge - he knows it's not fair - he knows it's an impossible situation, and he's desperately trying to exert some control over the uncontrollable

It makes sense that he'd want Sokka to be magically perfect, that way he could feel marginally better about abandoning him and the village - it's not like he has a choice to stay, everyone is in impossible situations and wishing your kid could be the perfect leader when you know it's going to be forced on them anyways is totally rational

Love that Aang immediately clocks the vision as not real

Despite wanting nothing more than to go see his home and people again, he's a master of the spiritual side of his nature - he knows how to rein it in.

It hurts all the more when we get to Gyatzo and there's the initial distrust - completely founded

Koh's lair!!!

Creepy centipede boiii

Love their chat and I like to think that Aang's past lives subtly let him know not to show emotions with Koh

The whole situation around Koh's face that opens and closes - thanks, I hate it.

It's well done. And I hate it. Please get it away from me. I do not like. Please, kill it with fire. Thank you.

But Gyatzo!!! He waited for Aang for 100 years!!!!!!!!!

I'm gonna say it again - everything with Gyatzo is pure gold. I'm so glad they expanded more with him being Aang's first mentor, even after his death

Gyatzo trying to relieve Aang of his guilt over not being there for the fire nation attack ): It's something Aang really needed to hear and I'm glad it was someone who was present who told him that, not someone just trying to make him not feel as sad.

Aang leaving Appa and Momo in charge of watching over Katara and Sokka!!! So sweet

Gyatzo's monologue is great - how sometimes it feels like we'll always be alone, the only thing keeping you company is your own pain

It ties into every single character of the series and it's such a great through line - they're all suffering in different ways. They NEED people (even Azula) 

[Masterlist of my NATLA thoughts]

[courtofmatchups]

Salutations Matchmaker~ I read your little thing and it looked like so much fun! I’ve never done this before so hopefully I’m doing this right 🤞

I’m looking for an Obey me! Match-up if it isn’t too much. If you don’t wanna do mine, that perfectly fine! Take care tho

Personality: I’m INFP if that makes it easier.

Mainly a quiet person at first, but a very dramatic person if I get comfortable. Like I’ll just explode with a bunch of emotions on depending on what’s going on. I start yapping a lot when I get excited.

Kind of an airhead? I zone out a lot, most times I don’t realize just how much time actually goes by. So I’ll spend like 5 hours straight being one thing nonstop. Also very forgetful. Tell me to do something and I’ll forget as soon as I leave the room.🙄 Or I’ll forget that I’m hungry until I see someone else eating or they remind me to.

Too damn clumsy as well, it pisses me off! I get so embarrassed, like I can never look cool😭

A lot of people think I look too serious or intimidating, but for the most part, it’s not all that true. I just have a bit of a hard time letting loose. I’ve only ever been open to my sister (✨my bestie✨).

Recently I learned that I have an “Avoidant attachment style.” I swear I don’t mean to be an asshole.. I just freak out and get all nauseous at the thought of someone getting too close and having to connect with them. So I’m extremely cautious around guys and never let it get too deep.

But I’m such a wuss and a hopeless romantic. I really wanna find someone I can just feel comfortable to be around with. So I’m working on it.😅

Likes: Animals — dogs especially, the beach/ocean, sweets (too addicted), music, something with such a good story to it.

Dislikes: Loud sounds, bugs, crowds, arrogant people, and OMFG I HATE MATH.💀

Appearance: I’m about 165 cm with average big brown eyes. Brown skin and very skinny too even though I eat a lot. I’m an adult but look younger than my age, so people often ask to make sure I’m legal. ._ .

My hair is the only interesting thing about my appearance. I have really thick and curly brown hair that often gets a lot of attention.

Anywho~ Tysm for your time! ^^✨

It seems to me, you've captured the heart of...

Beelzebub!

Beel is super gentle and understanding. Given your avoidant attachment style and tendency to get cautious around deep connections, Beel’s laid-back and patient personality would make you feel at ease. He wouldn’t rush you into anything, letting you take your time to open up.

You both love food, especially sweets! Beel has an insatiable appetite, and he’d probably love sharing snacks with you or reminding you to eat when you forget. Your bond over food could lead to some adorable moments together.

Beelzebub is physically strong but emotionally soft, which would balance out your clumsiness and self-consciousness. He’d never make you feel embarrassed about being clumsy—instead, he’d probably find it endearing and would always be there to catch you (literally!).

You mentioned being a bit cautious and avoiding deep connections. Beel’s protective and caring nature means he would never push you beyond your comfort zone, but he'd be there when you're ready to be more vulnerable. His warmth and sincerity would make it easier for you to feel safe and open up slowly.

Since you can be quiet and introspective at first, Beelzebub’s calm and quiet demeanor would be comforting. He’s not the type to overwhelm you with excessive energy, but he also knows how to enjoy deep and meaningful moments, which fits your love for something with a good story.

Beel loves working out and being active, and he’d likely enjoy spending time with you at the beach, combining your shared love for the ocean. His appreciation for simple pleasures would align with your love of peaceful and quiet settings.

Even though people might see you as serious or intimidating at first, Beelzebub wouldn’t judge you based on appearances. He’s incredibly accepting, and once you open up and show your dramatic side, he’d probably enjoy seeing you light up with excitement.

Beel loves animals (he has Cerberus, after all), and your love for dogs would definitely be something you bond over. You could spend time together playing with animals, and he'd probably share in your enthusiasm for them.

Overall, Beelzebub’s gentle, patient, and protective nature would make him an ideal match for your cautious but romantic personality. He’d give you space when you need it, while also creating a safe and warm environment where you can let loose and be yourself.