#if anybody has the solution I would love to hear it

[decadentwerewolfstrawberry]

When you play a game that's not popular enough to have answers on the internet about the puzzles...

[moe-broey]

Man..

[rynwritesreid]

Okay, hear me out, Penelope convinces the team to go on a camping trip. Reader forgets her tent and has to share with Spencer, you can decide the rest. Do your thing 😉

A/N: sorry I have been away for a while, I started a new job, I’ve applied for a PGCE and got three interviews to attend. But I hope this one(and the other fic I will be posting today) will make up for that. Also this isn’t as detailed as my other smut fics, but I thought I would make this less BDSM themed :)

Summary: Basically what my lovely iluvreid has asked for, but reader loves camping, however, while on a team bonding camping trip, reader somehow forgets her tent. This forces her to share a tent with Spencer, which leads to them doing more than sleeping;).

Content: I believe no gender is mentioned, but there might be so fem!reader just incase. No mentions of sex, but it is very heavily implied. Heavy fluff. Implied smut. Mentions of the team possibly hearing them. Implied that Garcia stole readers tent.

Masterlist|requests are open|Navigation

You loved going camping, so when Garcia had been going around convincing people, mainly Spencer and JJ, to go on a team bonding camping trip, you jumped at the opportunity. The thought of spending time in the great outdoors with your colleagues excited you. 

You had packed all your essentials, but you had forgotten one crucial item: your tent. As you stood there, staring at the empty space in your trunk where your tent should have been, panic began to set in. You frantically searched through your belongings, hoping against hope that you had somehow managed to overlook it. But the reality remained - your tent was nowhere to be found.

Desperation crept over you as you tried to come up with a solution. You glanced around, seeing the others already setting up their tents in the clearing. Garcia's rainbow-colored tent stood out amongst the sea of greens and blues, a visible symbol of camaraderie and teamwork. The thought of having to share a tent with someone crossed your mind, but the idea felt invasive and uncomfortable.

Just as you were about to resign yourself to a night spent sleeping under the stars, a voice interrupted your swirling thoughts.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer asked, he seemed amused, you hadn’t really kept it a secret how much you loved been outdoors, and how you spent a lot of your free time camping. 

You turned to face Spencer, trying to mask your distress with a smile. "I, um, forgot my tent," you admitted sheepishly, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks.

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, but then a mischievous glint appeared in them. "Looks like you'll have to bunk up with someone," he teased, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

You look around, trying to spot who you could bunk up with, but everyone seemed to have brought single person tents. Spencer seemed to be enjoying watching you struggle to find who you were going to ask.  

“You know, my tent is a two-person tent.” Spencer’s smile turned into a grin as he offered the solution. The realization hit you like a wave – Spencer was offering to share his tent with you. A mix of relief and excitement washed over you, grateful for his kindness yet nervous at the same time. You couldn't deny the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you considered spending the night under the same roof as Spencer.

"Are you sure?" you asked, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the thought of spending this impromptu sleepover with him.

Spencer nodded, his trademark soft smile making your heart skip a beat. "Of course! It's no trouble at all. We can set it up together," he offered, already moving to retrieve his tent from his own supplies.

“You know, I’ve actually never shared a tent with anybody.” You couldn't help but notice the slight blush that dusted Spencer's cheeks as he made the confession. 

As the night wore on, a chill settled in the air, prompting Spencer to offer you his jacket. The simple gesture sent a rush of warmth through you, both from the added layer and from the thoughtfulness behind it.

If you were being honest with yourself, you had always had a crush on Spencer. He was kind, caring and he always seemed slightly mysterious. As you looked over to Garcia and JJ they both seemed to be giggling, with Morgan trying to figure out what they were laughing about. You thought maybe they had something to do with your missing tent, but you didn’t really care at this moment.

Under the blanket of twinkling stars, the crackling campfire casting dancing shadows around you, you and Spencer settled into the cosy confines of the two-person tent. The air was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the sounds of nature outside - a symphony of chirping crickets and rustling leaves.

In the quiet intimacy of the tent, you felt a surge of courage wash over you. Without overthinking it, you reached out to gently intertwine your fingers with Spencer's, a silent invitation for something more than just camaraderie and friendship.

Spencer's breath caught at the unexpected touch, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of surprise and undeniable affection. A tender smile graced his lips as he squeezed your hand. You knew he didn’t like holding hands with people, but for whatever reason he didn’t seem to mind it with you. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” Spencer's whispered words hung in the air, soft and sincere. “And when I say beautiful, I don’t just mean the way you smile, or how your eyes glisten in the sunlight. I mean everything about you is beautiful. Your mind, your presence, you.” Caught off guard by Spencer's heartfelt confession, you felt your heart skip a beat.

You were lost for words, you had so much to say back, but you just couldn’t. You moved closer to Spencer, removing your hand from his. With a mix of nervousness and anticipation, you leaned in, your breath mingling with Spencer's as you closed the distance between you. The world outside the tent seemed to fade away as your lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss.

Spencer responded with a tenderness that took your breath away, his hand coming up to cup your cheek gently. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the connection you shared with Spencer. The barriers between friendship and something more crumbled away, leaving behind a raw and undeniable truth - you were in love with him.

You felt Spencer’s hands moving down your body. As you found yourself pulling away from the kiss, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. However, Spencer didn’t remove his hands, he continued till he found the hem of your shirt and slowly lifted it up. His eyes were scanning your body, drinking in every detail with a mixture of desire and reverence. Your heart was pounding in your chest. 

As your shirt slid off, discarded in the dim light of the tent, Spencer's gaze met yours with an intensity that left you breathless. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only a longing and a hunger that mirrored your own.

As Spencer leaned in to capture your lips in another searing kiss, a primal instinct took over, igniting a passion that had long smouldered between you.

The fabric of reality seemed to dissolve as you melted into each other, hands and lips exploring with a fervour that spoke of deep-seated longing. You had fantasied about this moment for a while. How he would feel, what he would be like. Spencer’s lips had touched almost every part of your body, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Your skin hummed with electricity under his touch, each sensation magnified by the intensity of your connection. The world outside the tent ceased to exist as you and Spencer became entwined in a dance of desire and need.

Spencer did have to keep reminding you to be quiet, “now you don’t want Hotch and Emily to hear you, do you?” The thought of getting caught by their colleagues only heightened the thrill, and you stifled your giggles against Spencer's shoulder. His fingers tracing patterns on your back soothed you, and you felt yourself relax into the moment, surrendering to the ebb and flow of pleasure that pulsed between you.

As the night wore on, your bodies moved in a rhythm that was both familiar and new, a testament to the bond that had formed between you.

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[puckszone]

my musings on how to leave longer & more regular comments on fics:

We all know comments are good - readers have probably heard authors on tumblr talk about how valuable comments are for ages, and I hope most of the authors reading this have felt that validating joy first hand.

But we also all have lives, and only so much energy in a given day. Maybe you have worries about leaving a comment that's too "weird", or "awkward". Maybe you LOVE a fic, but have no idea how to put those strong emotions into words. Maybe you leave short comments, but wish you felt comfortable crafting the paragraph-long detailed comments that some readers gift to their favorite fics.

If you've ever thought about trying to comment more often, or trying to leave longer comments, then here are some ramblings of mine that will (hopefully!) bring comment-inspiration your way.

A quick table of contents:

Lower the mental stakes

How do I comment on porn?!?!?!?

My approach to paragraph-long commenting

My call to action: challenge yourself to go one step further

Lower the mental stakes:

When I first joined a writing discord, I was genuinely blown away at the amount of support and love the HRPF community contains. I was also blown away at the amount of people that were actually reading my works and messaging about them!! It is still one of the coolest feelings ever.

In my mind, this is an example of a "lower stakes" ways to talk about fics: messaging a friend, or a group chat, or a discord server.

It takes a lot less energy for me to type a rambling text about how much I love the fic I'm currently reading vs. typing a cohesive, well-thought out comment for the author themselves.

One of those two options is much more intimidating!

I want so badly to tell the author how much I love their fic, but I'll never find the time to write all the things they deserve to hear!! So the tab sits open on my phone for months, and the comment never gets written.

If you relate to this: try to lower the "mental stakes" of writing your comment. Remember: this is a fun thing!! Fic is fun!! And I promise, you don't have to write the "perfect" comment to make an author's day.

A potential solution: treat the comment box a bit more like a message to your group chat. Not in a rude way - let's stay polite to the writers in our community, and recognize when unsolicited feedback isn't wanted.

But instead of forcing yourself to always have the "perfect" comment, think of something lighter. Think of what you would text to a friend if you were going to send them a link to the fic: maybe "dude this fic is so funny you need to read it", OR "this is INSANELY good", OR "i've been reading this all morning you need to check it out right now".

Then write that!

Comment: "this fic is so funny oh my god. love it!"

Comment: "this is INSANELY good"

Comment: "SCREAMING. I LOVE THIS"

Comment: "i haven't been able to put this done all morning! sooooo good!"

Comment: "i read the first chapter of this fic and instantly knew i had to send it to all my friends. i love this so much!!!"

Also, this might just be personal preference but: a discord message can get lost to time. AO3 is an archive, and comments there are much easier to look back on!!

So send that discord message to the author in a server you're in - they're going to appreciate it so much!! But consider copy-pasting that as a comment in AO3 as well, no matter how short it might be. It means a lot!!

How do I comment on porn?!?!?!?

PWP fics are known to have a large number of hits, with less kudos and even less comments.

Listen. I get it.

Especially in a fandom like HRPF, where many fics are user-locked, it can be intimidating to comment with no chance to hide behind anonymity.

But remember this: anybody who might "see your username" has also clicked into that very same fic and gone alllllll the way to the end. We're all in this together!!! I promise!!

Maybe the actual logistics are difficult for you - how do I leave a comment on an 8k porn-no-plot fic?? how do I explain that I love this fic without making the author uncomfortable?? - so in that case, let me give a few brief ideas for you to work off of.

Some words I like to use a lot: dirty, nasty, HOTTTT, sexy, intimate, vivid.

If you're feeling especially blindsided by the Everything of it all: i like to throw in a good "stupidly hot". "my brain is melting out of my ears". "soooooo dirty nasty hot". "WHEWWWW this is making me feel insane".

Don't overthink it!!!! Speak your truth!!!

And, final point: don't be afraid to highlight specific favorite parts, like you would with any other fic! Say it with your chest! If you liked the frottage, then say "the thigh riding was sooooo stupidly hot". I promise, the author put it in because they also thought the same thing!!!! It's going to make their day (and maybe result in more fics with that same favorite part of yours).

My approach to paragraph-long commenting:

I just want to reiterate: there is no right or wrong way to write a comment. But here's the general breakdown of how I think about leaving more detailed comments, if you want some ideas.

I copy snippets from the fic that call out to me as I read

I go into my clipboard to paste them all into the comment box

I write 1-2 sentences about WHY i copied down that specific snippet

Sometimes, it might be hard to know exactly why you were so affected by a given line. Here's some things you might especially appreciate in a fic:

Characterization: maybe the dialogue felt especially realistic. maybe the character's decisions made a lot of sense to you. maybe the way two characters interact is just exactly how you picture it. write that down in one sentence!! done!

Prose/writing style: maybe the line was a really gorgeous metaphor, piece of dialogue, etc. copy and paste that shit into your comment + add some "!!!"s, or maybe a single sentence like "this is so so gorgeous" or "INSANE metaphor" or "beautiful prose i'm chewing on glass"

The plot: "I have no idea where this is going next, and I can't wait to find out" / "OH MY GOD THE CLIFFHANGER"

The emotions you felt while reading it: this one's an easy one I promise! "the way you wrote [CHARACTER]'s pain hurt sooooo good" / "this is making me feel ill" / "i actually gasped out loud on the bus" / "i'm so nervous for the next chapter" / "i'm SO excited by where this fic is going" / "i teared up reading this"

A long comment will come organically & very easily, even if you only have 2 copy-pasted snippets!! And the author gets to hear very specific feedback about exactly what you're enjoying - that's SO unbelievably rewarding to hear.

So, my personal call to action: challenge yourself to go one step further!

If you don't usually leave comments: try leaving one or two one-line comments this week. Throw in a quick "i love this!!" next to that kudos!

If you usually leave one-line comments: try leaving a couple sentences! describe one specific thing you liked about the fic, or one specific emotion you had.

If you often leave comments on the fics of people you know: try going outside your comfort zone and commenting on a stranger's fic. you got this!

Push yourself one step further, whatever that means for you! It's such a beautiful thing, to be able to read and love and discuss fic in a shared community, and it's worth the effort!

If you've read my ramblings the whole way through: thank you!!!! This was mainly an outlet for me to put all my thoughts into real words, and I sort of can't believe you read all the way through. <3

I welcome any and all additions to this post!!!! The more we talk about commenting, and the more we comment, the more this community grows - and that's a positive thing for all of us, readers and writers alike.

[drdemonprince]

How do you tell if someone is interested in you? In the past I've had a hard time telling if someone has been romantically interested in me, and it's only been in retrospect or when talking to mutuals or hearing it from the person that I've learned that they were interested in me, and perceived my reactions as disinterest. I've also occasionally interpreted behaviors as signs of interest incorrectly which has led to awkward situations and even loss of friendships.

Especially when it comes to friends, I just want to know how to ask if someone is interested in me or express interest in them without destroying the friendship. Obviously a hard situation so don't expect a magic solution but would be curious if you have advice!

There is no foolproof way to know if a person is attracted to you, which is why we have the power of overt communication.

Just check in with your own desires first, and then communicate about it! Are you interested in the person? That is reason enough to consider expressing your feelings, but doubly so if you have received some signals that suggest they like you. It's much better to clear the air than to spend months or years trying to decode messages and working yourself up into a lather over all the intrigue.

You can ask the person if they are interested in you, or you can ask them if they meant any particular gesture in a flirtatious way. I've had friends ask me that before, and even when the answer was no, we were fine! It's a cishet allistic nonsense myth that communicating openly about desire will "ruin" a friendship. What ruins a friendship is a tangled web of unspoken projections and longings forming beneath the surface for years without anybody feeling free to name what is happening.

Sitcoms be damned, you can literally just ask a person "is this a date" or "I've noticed you've been touching me on the arm a lot lately, are you flirting with me?" or "We have a really strong friendship chemistry, have you ever wanted something more?" or "I love our friendship and I'm so very happy with it, but I'd also like to pursue dating you, if you were into it." or the like. These are all perfectly fine things to say to a person, things that I've heard and responded to before or known friends to have said.

I have had many friends that I was attracted to, or who were attracted to me -- and none of us died from not getting to fuck one another, nor did any of us go crazy from unrequited desire. I've never felt creeped out by a friend being into me, and when they have brought this attraction up, I was relieved to be able to convey to them when I wasn't available or interested myself. Open communication meant they could stop wondering about it and I could stop worrying that I was somehow accidentally giving romantic signals off. I tend to be expressive and attentive to people I care about, and I don't want to have to reign that in or become artificially cold for fear of seeming flirtatious. It's better to just talk about.

And when i've had a burning desire for a friend who wasn't into me, all I've had to do is make sure I behave respectfully to them and don't expect anything out of the friendship and then made sure to keep my masturbating about the person a good distance away from the real human being themselves so they didn't have to ever think about it or know that it was happening. sometimes I've sustained close friendships for years while being really into a person who just wasn't into me, and I was able to separate the reality of them from my fantasies. More often than not, the attraction has ebbed and taken on far less urgency once it's no longer an open question and it's clear to me that it's not worth pursuing.

[heli-writes]

A marriage of convenience, part 1: The deal.

Pairing: Yoriichi x you

Summary: Yoriichi's friends think that Yoriichi is too lonely and needs a wife and family to take care of him. They propose a marriage of convenience to a woman who's in need of a husband. The arrangement of the marriage is simple: both parties live their lives as before, y/n takes care of Yoriichi as a wife and Yoriichi keeps unwanted men (and demons) away. Love is not required, friendship is appreciated. However, how detached can one be when living so close to each other?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Series Masterlist

*~*~*~*~*

It's been six years since Uta has passed. Six years in which Yoriichi lived in the same house he found his beloved wife brutally murdered. Since then, he's never been the same. He's never been someone to be cheery or social but after Uta's death, he got even more cool and distant towards people. His demon slayer peers hoped it would get better, that the grief and the pain somewhen would fade and Yoriichi would find back to himself one day. But so far, that never happened.

"Maybe you should get married again, Yoriichi." The burgundy-haired man doesn't reply to his friend's remark but only stares deeper into his teacup. "What he's trying to say is that we're worried about you, Yoriichi. You're all alone in that house. No one to look after you." another demon slayer quickly adds. "I am fine. You don't need to worry but I appreciate your concern." Yoriichi stiffly replies. "For now, but what when you grow old? When your body doesn't work as it used to? We have children to look after us when this happens. But you?" Yoriichi's friend tries to argue. "We're not saying you should replace Uta. No one could. We're saying you shouldn't live alone. A wife would be the simplest solution to that." "I am fine," Yoriichi repeats, shifting in his seat. He clearly feels uncomfortable in this conversation. When his friends asked him to join him for a cup of tea, he did not think that this was their intention. "Look, we know a nice woman who lives a village over from here. You should take a look at her, get to know her." Yoriichi scrunches his eyebrow. He doesn't like how the other man talks about this woman as if she's a puppy up for sale. "I don't need to get to know anybody.", he argues. "You don't have to if you don't want to, but here's the thing: y/n lives alone in a cottage in the woods with her six-year-old son. She's a healer who provides the nearby villages and slayers with ointments and other medicines. Her living situation is common knowledge around here and it keeps on happening that men try to bother her in her own home. She is in need of a husband who keeps the unwanted attention away." his other friend explains. "Also she's like really hot.", the first slayer adds grinning. "In that case, I'm sure she'll find another man who is willing to help her out.", Yoriichi answers. "True, but these men have certain expectations in return. Like you, y/n lost her family a while ago. She isn't trying to start a new one, she just wants to live her life in peace. Doesn't that sound familiar to you?" Yoriichi leans back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "It would be a marriage of convenience. You'd keep her peace, she takes care of you in return. And since there's already an heir, you'd both be taken care of in old age.", his friend points out. "And no need for another child if that's not what you want.", the other man adds. Yoriichi stares into his tea and thinks about what the men said. "We get you're not convinced about this but you could just meet up with her and see how it goes. What's the harm in one meeting?" Yoriichi takes his cup and finishes his tea in one gulp. "One meeting and after that I don't want to hear anything about this anymore.", he concludes.

*~*~*~*~*

They've set up the meeting at her house. On a sunny spring day, one of the slayers takes him to the cottage in the woods. The cottage lies about half an hour on foot from the nearby village. Very far off for a woman living alone, Yoriichi thinks. The cottage is not like he expected it to look. He expected a Japanese-style wooden house with slide doors. But the house looks like anything he's ever seen before. Western style, he assumes. They are a few feet away from the house when its door suddenly opens. A young woman leaves the house. She wears a traditional kimono but doesn't wear any shoes. Her hair is also not in an updo as most women wear it but it falls loosely around her head. As they walk up to her, Yoriichi feels uncomfortably under her watchful gaze. "(Y/n), it's good to see you. Thank you for inviting us. This is Yoriichi Tsugikuni, the man I've told you about." Yoriichi bows politely to the woman in front of him. Her unreadable facial expression doesn't change but she bows too and says: "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've prepared tea for us."

(Y/n) leads the two slayers into her home where she set up a table with tea and some biscuits. Yoriichi looks around her home as they sit down. The main room of the cottage includes a kitchen and a table. There are multiple shelves on the wall that are filled with different-sized bottles which include colorful liquids and dried herbs. A cord is strung across the room to which bundles of different plants are attached to. "Probably to dry them before she works them into her medicine.", Yoriichi thinks. (Y/n) notices his glance and explains: "I grow these herbs in my garden in the back.". "They smell nice.", Yoriichi notes. At that, (y/n) smiles softly for the first time since they've arrived.

*~*~*~*~*

"So, what do you think of (y/n), Yoriichi?" his friend asks. Yoriichi stares at the path in front of him. "She's not unpleasant.", he concludes. "Well, I hoped for better feedback but I suppose it's a start. Do you want to meet her again?", his friend laughs. Yoriichi hesitates for a moment. "I don't know yet." His friend nods. "You don't have to know yet but I am glad you're giving this a chance." They continue their way home in silence.

*~*~*~*~*

It's been a long night. The demons he hunted weren't hard to deal with but it was a long walk back home. Yoriichi enters his home which lies in dead silence. For a moment he stands in the doorway listening for movement inside the house. He doesn't hear anything. For the first time in a long while, he's not sure if that is a good thing. He walks into his bedroom and leans his sword against the wall. He prepares to go to sleep but once he's inside his futon, sleep doesn't want to find him. His thoughts slip back to his friends and (y/n). (Y/n) is a kind woman, he concludes. During their tea, his friend led most of their conversation. (Y/n) answered all questions, even asked some of her own but never tried to push the conversation further. While his friend talked a lot about marriage, (y/n) not once used the word herself. Taking it slow, Yoriichi thinks and turns to his side. The pale moonlight falls onto his sword. She is looking for a man who can protect her, he thinks. I've failed to protect Uta. How could I possibly protect her? It's best to point this out to her before she actually sees me as a potential marriage candidate. This was his last thought before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

*~*~*~*~*

The path to (y/n)'s cottage is small and overgrown with weeds but Yoriichi unmistakenly recognizes it. Walking the path alone without his friends has something peaceful. He's so far out from civilization, the only noises he hears are some songbirds and the rustling of leaves in the soft spring breeze. Soon, a sweet, heavy smell fills the air indicating that the cottage is close. (Y/n) must be baking bread, Yoriichi thinks. He steps onto the meadow on which (y/n)'s cottage stands. A young boy with bright blond hair stands in front of the cottage with a ball in his hand. This must be her son, Yoriichi notes to himself. Last time, (y/n) was alone in the cottage. She sent her son off to play with the boys from the village. The boy watches Yoriichi closely as he makes his way to the cottage. The boy must come after his father, Yoriichi thinks. He shares no facial features with his mother at all.

"Hello, boy. Is your mother around? I need to speak with her." Yoriichi calls out to the boy. The boy only looks up to him with big, round eyes. Yoriichi notices how he grips his ball just a little bit tighter. Yoriichi shifts uncomfortably on his feet. "Is she inside? It smells like she's baking bread.", the burgundy-haired man asks again, his eyes fixed on the boy. "This is (y/s/n). He doesn't speak.", he hears (y/n) say. He looks up seeing the woman standing in the door frame to her cottage. "I see.", Yoriichi says. "I've come to speak with you. Is that alright with you?", he asks her. "Of course. Please, come in.", (y/n) says giving him a small smile. (Y/n) leads him inside and points towards the table they sat at last time. "Sit. I make tea for us." Yoriichi nods and takes a seat. The boy followed them inside but he hides behind the doorframe to the living area. (Y/n) starts making tea and silence falls over the three of them. Yoriichi isn't sure whether it's a comfortable or uncomfortable silence. He feels awkward about what he has to say.

"Would you like some bread with jam? The bread is fresh out of the oven.", (y/n) asks. Yoriichi looks up and meets her gaze as she is turned to him with her upper body. "Sure, it already smells great." Suddenly the boy enters the room and hugs his mother's legs. "Do you also want some jam, (y/s/n)?", she asks him. The boy nods. (Y/n) strokes over the boy's head and the boy smiles, hugging her legs tighter. When he lets go of her, (y/n) walks back to the table with a tray. "Please, help yourself.", she says. The boy still stands awkwardly in the kitchen. She turns around and says: "You don't want to sit with us? That's alright. You can take your bread outside if you want to." The boy nods and walks to the table. (Y/n) hands him a piece of bread and he leaves through the backdoor.

"So, you've come to talk to me?", (y/n) attempts to start a conversation with the man in front of her. Yoriichi shifts awkwardly in his seat. "Yes," he begins, "I assume you're aware that my friends introduced me to you for a reason." "Of course," she answers, "After all, I asked him if he knows any kind men who are looking for a wife." Yoriichi nods. "Well, I am sorry to disappoint but I am not really looking for a wife." (Y/n) leans back into her seat. "So he told me. But I am sure he also told you I am not looking for a real husband either." "Yes," Yoriichi replies, "he explained your situation. However, I am not sure if I am fit for what you're looking for. I can't protect you." There's a sharp spark in (y/n)'s eyes. "I'm not sure I can follow." (y/n) says. "I've never said I wanted a husband for protection. I simply need a man in my household. In today's world, a woman living alone apparently is an open invitation for some people. A man simply living with her is enough to keep the unwanted company away." Yoriichi nods staring at the bread in front of him. It looks delicious. (Y/n) sighs. "My fiancée passed seven years ago, together with my sisters. At the end, I was only able to protect myself. I guess, I don't really need anyone's protection when it comes to a physical fight. So don't worry about this.", (y/n) concludes. "If we were to wed," Yoriichi tries to argue, "It would still be my responsibility to protect you." (Y/n) looks at him. "This wouldn't be a normal marriage, so normal rules and expectations wouldn't apply. When you can't fulfill your duty to protect me, I don't have to fulfill other wifely duties. It'd be fair and there are things I don't want to do with you anyways." Yoriichi gets what she's hinting at. "I wouldn't have asked that of you anyways," he points out, "I am not looking for someone to replace my deceased wife." He feels slightly insulted by her implications. (Y/n) nods. "Apologies. I didn't mean to assume things but it was important to me to get this out of the way first.", she explains. "Also, I don't want to replace my fiancée as well", she adds quickly. "So what you're looking for is...", Yoriichi pauses. "... is a simple arrangement. But your friend surely told you about this. It's not a secret I am simply looking for a marriage out of convenience." she ends his sentence. Yoriichi nods again but remains silent. (Y/n) sighs once again. "If this doesn't work for you, I take no offense. It's why we met up before making a decision."

Yorrichi remains silent for another minute. "Where would we live?", he asks her. "I would prefer to stay here but I am ready to accommodate." He's glad she says this. He wouldn't want her to sleep where Uta has slept. And maybe, he's tired of looking at the spot where Uta has died. "What about (y/s/n)?", he asks further. "You're welcome to take part in his life but you don't have any responsibilities. I only expect of you to show him respect and kindness.", she answers. He nods again. "You would continue your work as a healer?" "Yes, and you can come and go as your work requires you to.", she replies. "And you take care of the household?", he asks. "Yes, I will. I might need some help when it comes to repairs around the house or heavy lifting." "That's alright. I can help with anything you need. What else?", he continues. "Money.", she answers, "By law, after the marriage everything that's mine is yours and the other way around. Do you want to keep it like this or do you want to keep it separate?" Yoriichi shrugs and says: "It would make sense to put everything into one pot when it comes to bigger repairs or purchases. But I'm fine with both." (Y/n) nods. "I agree, as long as we both get a say in where we spend money on. I don't want a man who wants to have financial control over the household." Yoriichi straightens in his seat a bit. He gets where this is coming from. It's not easy being a woman these days. "Don't worry. With your business, you probably understand more about money things than me. I'd even be okay with you having control over things.", he concludes. (Y/n) looks content. "So, we have a deal?", she asks. Yoriichi ponders the question for a moment before answering.

"Yes, we have a deal."

[specialagentlokitty]

Mycroft x reader - you are brave

Hello please could I ask for a Mycroft x reader with a self harm reader and Mycroft comforts her ? If nit that's okay thanks 😊 - Anon 💜

TW: mentions of self harm

Everybody has secrets, things they wanted to keep to themselves, either because they couldn’t tell anyone or because they didn’t want to.

And yours was both.

You couldn’t tell anybody, and you didn’t want to tell anybody about it either, so you kept it as hidden as you possibly could.

Somehow Sherlock hadn’t managed to pick up on it, or if he had maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it, you weren’t sure.

But Sherlock did notice, and he chose not to bring it up.

At least not to you.

Instead, he told his brother knowing you got along with Mycroft better.

And an hour after that message that Sherlock, Mycroft was walking into your house, setting his umbrella against the wall.

“(Y/N)?” He called.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

You came through from the kitchen and you smiled at him, leaning against the doorframe.

“What’s up?”

“We need to talk.”

Mycroft walked over and into the kitchen, he pulled a chair out and sat you down, and he put the kettle on and grabbed two cups.

“Be truthful with me when I ask you this question, remember I know when you’re lying.”

You furrowed your brows a little bit in confusion.

“Is this about your blazer when you left it at Sherlock’s? Because I’m my defensive it was a complete accident I got tea on it I swear! I’ll pay for it to be cleaned.”

Mycroft chuckled a little and he set your cup down in front of you and he set his own on the table and sat down.

“No, it’s not about this, and I already knew it was you.”

He clasped his hands together.

“Are you hurting yourself?”

You froze for a second.

“Don’t lie to me.” He said.

You said nothing, and that was all the confirmation that Mycroft needed, silence spoke just as loudly as words and yours screamed everything he needed to know.

“Why would you do this to yourself?” He asked softly.

“Mycroft don’t.” You warned.

“I already know everything, but, I want to hear you say it.”

You shook your head.

“If you already know it why do I need to say it?” You asked quietly.

Mycroft sighed softly, and he looked at you.

“Because I want to hear it from you, I want you to tell me whatever it is that’s going through your head right now, what made you feel like you had to resort to scarring your own skin.”

You looked away and clenched your jaw a little bit, and you shook your head a little bit.

“I’m fucked up Mycroft…” you whispered.

“Why do you think that?”

You turned to him, and swallowed the jump in your throat.

“Because I am…”

Mycroft stood up, taking his chair he set it down in front of you and sat back down, holding out his hands to you and you looked at them.

Slowly reaching out you gave him your hands and he stood them, gently squeezing them.

“You are not fucked up as you put it, okay. You’re not, and I don’t want you thinking about yourself that way.”

You didn’t say anything and he sighed.

“I know you’ve been struggling with loving yourself, and believing when people tell you how amazing you are. I know you struggle with a lot of things, but I don’t want to ever think that you thought this would be your only solution.”

“What else is there?” You shrugged.

“Let me help you.”

You looked up at him.

“I don’t want to know you’re destroying yourself just to feel something or help whatever it is that you’re struggling with at the time.”

Mycroft ran his thumbs along the backs of your hands.

“I don’t want you to think it is the only choice you have, because it’s not.”

“I don’t know what else to do…” you whispered.

“I do, stay here.”

Mycroft got up and he gestured for you to wait there for a moment and he walked away.

You didn’t know what he was doing, so you just waited.

Mycroft came back down and he set everything on the table and you looked at it all.

“Is there anything else?” He asked.

“Top draw of my bed stand.”

“Is that all?”

You sighed.

“Check under the sink the bathroom.”

Mycroft nodded and left and he came back with the rest of the stuff and he looked at it all.

“Right, I want you to throw it all out.”

“What?”

“Throw it out.”

You stared at him and he brought the bin over.

“I won’t, you must do this by yourself. Me throwing it out won’t do anything, but you throwing it out will.”

You nodded your head and one by one you tossed all the destructive objects out and he emptied the bin, taking it out to the bin outside and came back in.

Sitting back down in front of you, Mycroft took your hands in his.

“Let me help you with this.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to. I don’t want to get a message from Sherlock or Lestrade or Watson and find out that you’ve ended up in hospital or worse (Y/N).”

“I don’t know how you can help…”

“I do, I will stay here in your guest room. If you feel the need to harm yourself you come to me straight away, if you feel sad, angry, whatever it may be, you find me.”

You looked at him, tears brimming your eyes and he smiled softly at you standing up and holding his arm out.

“You’re going to be alright.” He said.

You stood up and softly hugged him, and Mycroft wrapped a single arm around you.

Truth be told he wasn’t sure how to help you yet, but it wasn’t going to take him long to figure it out, he was already thinking about everything he could do to help you.

Looking down at you, Mycroft wrapped his other arm around you a little unsure at first until he felt more comfortable and he just stood there holding you.

You balled your hands into his blazer.

“I can’t do this…” you chocked out.

“You can, okay? You can. Because you are strong, because you are brave, and you can do more than you ever dreamt you could.”

Mycroft looked down at you again.

“You are (Y/N), and the (Y/N) I know can do whatever she put her mind too.”

[ninadove]

Hm.... While I agree, Gabriel IS selfish.... I have to point out; he clearly changed his heart (again, I don't want to make him a saint) from hurting others. And (in my oppinion) there was no good human sollution. He was dieing, they said he has hours left.... He might could have ask for Adrien's forgivenes, but that doesn't changes the fact Adrien becomes an orphan, having either Emilie or Ms. Tsurugi as guardian (whis isn't that bad, but worse than what happend at the end). So, I would say, he made the best/better of the worst situation.

Also, I have the theory that his whis was to inflict the broken Peacock Miraculous dammage uppon himself. And asked Gimmi to read his heart, and I belive, in that moment, he doesn't wanted to hurt anybody, only heal. So, while I see why you say rightfully he awoided the consequenves, I belive he did it knowing it won't effect anybody negativly, at least ah he could foresee (part of my theory is that healing EVERYBODY from the Pracock's effect, which possibly includes Colt, so.... Here is your backlash😅🤫)

There is no perfect human solution, as Bug Noire herself pointed out — but, this is the entire point: accepting that some things will be lost, and that you need to do the best you can with what you have. A lesson Nathalie urged him to learn in earlier episodes, when she begged him to make plans for Adrien’s future.

Even if Gabriel was convinced it was the only solution — which we have established goes against the entire morale of the story and is selfish in itself, don’t use black magic kids, it’s really not that hard — let’s not forget that he:

Manipulated, then attacked a child to get there (there’s a reason they made this shot so threatening) ;

Put the pressure on her to lie and protect his legacy — trapping Adrien in a neverending circle of mourning an heroic version of his father he never got to meet, while still dealing with the consequences of the abuse he inflicted upon him. Depriving him of a choice — that of forgiving his father or not — one last time.

In other words, the context around the wish, and the steps Gabriel takes in order to achieve it, reinforce its inherent selfishness, and the idea that people did and will get hurt as a result.

On a side note, I don’t think Gabriel could heal everyone that has been affected by the Peacock — it does not work well with the idea of equivalent exchange as explained by Gimmi, and Thomas Astruc heavily implied that the woman we see by the pool is Amelie, as bringing Emilie back would go against the message of these 5 seasons.

What he most likely did was """sacrifice""" himself to bring back Nathalie, which would work well with the "a life for a life" rule, while still allowing him to join his wife in death.

Also, if everyone (including Colt) was suddenly saved from the effects of the Peacock, Felix definitely wouldn’t look this happy:

For context, and because I love hearing myself talk: [Part 1] [Part 2]

[milimeters-morales]

part two of that autistic miles oneshot under the readmore! All warnings and pairings still apply ^_^

Word Count: 6k+

Miles loves animals. That’s a known fact. Spider-Man also loves animals. This is a slightly less known fact, but still known by a good amount of people. 

“Thank you so much, Spider-Man,” a parent tells him as he cradles two kittens he rescued from getting ran over by traffic, “I don’t even know how they escaped-”

The kittens meow, finally giving Miles a good reason to look down. The people’s gazes are very heartwarming in a sense, but it was too much emotion for Miles. The parent keeps talking, the child reaching out for the kittens that Miles refuses to hand over until he has to.

Miles smiles warmly, lenses squinting in delight as one kitten tries to paw at his chin. How cute! 

If these kittens were his, he’d name them Coffee and Cocoa. They’re very pretty as well, with spiky brown coats, one of them with faint tabby markings on the legs, and with the most vibrant green eyes he’s ever seen on an animal. They would fit in the palm of his hands if they were curled up, and their pink little bell collars only add to the cuteness. 

“-and we’ll put up a baby gate for them, I promise. Now, what do you say, honey?” Miles catches the last part of the parent’s sentence as they place a hand on the kid’s shoulder.

“Thank you Mr. Spider-Man,” the kid tells him with all the intensity and sincerity only toddlers could manage while covered in syrup and dressed in pajamas, and goes to reach for the kittens again.

The kittens meow loudly as the parent swoops in before the sticky hands can touch their delicate fur, and Miles… 

Okay, don’t tell anybody this. Not even Ganke. Actually, especially not Ganke. It’s a bit embarrassing, and he really doesn’t want this to be a running joke the other boy brings up when they’re supposed to be focusing in class, and end up getting them in trouble again. Also, he doesn’t want Ganke to think he’s uncool. Okay? Okay.

So.

Miles meows at the two. Not the two kittens, no, because that's the normal and socially acceptable response in public when you see two kittens meowing and calling out to you. No, Miles Gonzalo Morales, someone who’s literally saved his world (twice!), meowed at the two people in front of him.

“Oh my god,” he immediately tries to start apologizing, but the parent bursts out into laughter when the kid starts meowing back at him. 

This is supposed to be a fun, happy moment. Silly and lighthearted. Spider-Man meowing and a kid meowing back after saving their kittens from death. Miles knows this, and that somehow makes the feeling of shame and…disgust, he realizes, at himself even worse.

But he laughs with the parent, and then the kid, because he knows he’s supposed to. He’s seen enough shows and been around enough people throughout his life to know something that obvious. But in all honesty, he just wants to curl up somewhere, and bite down, slam his head on something, throw himself into a few walls-

And he knows that’s not a normal reaction either, so he just feels more embarrassed as he laughs with the two and waves goodbye. Thank god for the mask, right?

___

Pavitr isn’t a surface hard enough to slam his head on, or throw himself onto to feel something else other than the embarrassment, but at least he can give Miles the pressure he needs.

“I’m just saying, that’s not a normal reaction. Have you ever thought of getting some chew toys?”

He’s not a dog, Pavitr.

“Not like that! I meant one of those chew necklaces, or a fidget toy, just to keep yourself uh… stable. Because you jumping to solutions like that? That is not very stable!”

Miles says nothing. He knew it wasn’t normal, and hearing someone else say it wasn’t stable was something he was always prepared for. Well, sort of prepared for. It stung only a little hearing it, and he knows Pavitr didn’t mean to imply anything too bad, but he was right anyway.

“I tend to be,” Pavitr says, rubbing comforting circles on his back. 

Their legs are intertwined, both in their suits and laying in a web-hammock high above the noise of the city. The stars are much more visible the higher you go, and Pavitr’s been taking the time to point out constellations that Miles doesn’t know the meaning of. He keeps getting off track when the legend he’s telling Miles reminds him of something he did back in his universe, and Miles finds it a bit endearing. Ganke does the same thing, though he manages to circle back to his original point fairly easily.

“I’ll buy you one. Any of us could, really! It’s no big thing. Anyway, it sounds like you just need to meow more, because I can sense you have something to say. And you keep mouthing it on my chest.”

Miles groans quietly and tries not to dig his fingernails into Pavitr as he’s reminded of the events from earlier that day.

Miles goes to groan a bit more dramatically so Pavitr doesn’t think he worsened the mood, because out of everyone he’s met, Pavitr is the most socially awkward. Not even in a nervous wreck way, he’s just so earnest and eager to share what he thinks, that he doesn’t always read the room correctly. But they balance each other out, because Miles always over-reads a room (is that even a thing? Someone let him know) and ends up really anxious about saying the right thing. It’s been happening less and less with each passing day, but the fact that it’s an issue at all…

Anyway, the groan doesn’t come out right. Like, at all. In fact, it’s more like a trilling noise that cats make. 

Patches of himself dance in and out of visibility for the most tense five seconds of Miles’s life, until Pavitr’s lenses squint happily. “You can do that too?! Lucky, I’m so jealous!” he gushes.

Huh?

“Yeah, Gwen and Hobie sometimes do that! You don’t know how badly I want to be able to- to just make a noise that people know means I’m happy without having to constantly smile or actually find the words for,” Pavitr rushes out, fully removing his arms from around Miles to hold his hands between their chest, bringing their foreheads together for a quick second. “That’s the most I can really do, that and hugs, to get my point across when I’m too tired for words.”

Miles wants to ask a lot of questions, mainly “why are you happy about this”, “why aren’t you pushing me away in disgust”, and “can you go back to hugging me”, but he settles for, “what do you mean you can’t do that?”

Too bad his brain loves not listening to him. 

He meows, and this time his camouflage kicks in completely. 

“You’re asking why I can’t make those noises?”

Well, he did say he was good at reading people, Miles thinks.

“I can’t believe I never told you! I didn’t get bitten, my powers are magic,” Pavitr exclaims happily, “yeah, this yogi blessed me, so I don’t actually have spider DNA or other stuff.”

Miles meows again, a questioning tone seeping in. (God, he won’t hear the end of this.)

“Yeah, the DNA! Y’know, how Hobie has glowing organic webs because his spider was SUPER messed up but he can’t use them because he’s not entirely healthy? So he uses the webshooters?”

No, he didn’t know that. God, he’s barely asked about Pavitr’s and Hobie’s pasts… he figured they didn’t bring it up for a reason, and he never felt the need to pry.

“Well, I don’t know if you wanna talk about the other guy,” Pavitr says, voice now a mumble as he makes a clawing motion to reference Miguel, “but it’s kinda like that. Except, uh, the opposite? Sorry if it doesn’t really make sense, I’m getting tired.”

Miles meows again, quieter to match Pavitr’s volume. 

“The purring too. I know the meowing itself isn’t a spider-thing, but I’m 99% sure the purring is, so if you ever start doing that around me, don’t be afraid.”

Right. Okay, yeah. Pavitr’s a sweet guy, he wouldn’t make fun of him about something that he was really insecure (that word felt too weak to describe how he felt) about.

“I mean, maybe you won’t make those- oh okay, well uh-“

A quiet rumbling comes from his chest. Pavitr goes silent and rubs more comforting circles into his back until Miles slowly reappears.

Pavitr wasn’t making fun of him, or secretly thinking of him as some sort of freak who can’t speak like a normal human, Miles knew that. He knew Pavitr better than that, and it was almost insulting to think of the other boy like that. He knows this already.

“I can’t keep talking, okay, so… just… keep purring? It’s super calming,” Pavitr mumbles as he buries his face into the crook of the other’s neck, “I can’t talk anymore. Sorry.”

Miles feels a very brief rush of emotion at the request and the admission, none of which he can name (as per usual), and the purring gets stronger.

___

Hobie chats up the smoking line cook in the back of the hole-in-the-wall Miles likes to frequent on particularly rough days as he orders his food. He can hear their conversation through the walls, and is annoyed by Hobie when he isn’t even involved in the conversation. 

“Who would win, a thousand rats, or five bears on cocaine?”

Miles tries to tune out Hobie’s questions as he orders their food.

It doesn’t really work, and he’s pretty sure the lady taking his order at the counter wonders why he looks so pissed off.

Walking outside and going around the back to drag Hobie away from the poor line cook he’s tormenting with stupid questions. “But you can’t even mix benadryl with-” Miles hears Hobie arguing now, and just grabs him by the collar and tugs him out of the alley.

“I got our food, let’s eat,” he tells the taller boy, who’s busy slapping his hand away and lightly punching his shoulder.

They decide to eat on the steps of a random apartment building near his own. He feels the steam condensing and dripping water into his palms and grimaces.

“What’s that frown for? Food ain’t good?” Hobie asks him around a mouth full of rice and honey chicken.

“Nah, just don’t like the feeling,” Miles says, taking the broccoli and meat out of the rice and putting them in small piles. He scowls at the juice from the meat mixing with the broccoli, and the juices from both soaking the rice with an unbalanced ratio of vegetable flavoring to meat flavoring… it’s silly. It’ll still get eaten, if the look in Hobie’s eyes means anything.

“Are you gonna eat that?” Hobie asks him, getting closer and pointing at the broccoli pile with his fork (which was missing a tine, for some reason).

“Probably not. I don’t think I’m hungry,” Miles tells him, still focused on trying to separate the carrots from the rice. Man, why didn’t he just stick with his usual order?

“I need a yes or no, mate,” Hobie tells him, pulling his fork back.

“But I don’t know, I don’t really get hungry.”

“What?” Hobie looks properly confused, and not in his usual dry “I know you’re lying to me but the lie was so bad it’s intriguing” way, but genuinely. 

“Yeah,” Miles says, feeling more and more embarrassed even though he knows the last person he should feel embarrassed around is Hobie. But he’s just so… cool, in so many ways that Miles isn’t. He doesn’t want him to think he’s weird and just avoid him. Or worse, convince other people to avoid him.

Stop it, he’d never do that to me, Miles pleads. The memory of him meowing last week tries to wash over him, but he beats it back with a stick, forcing his happiest moments to replay in his mind and keeping his hands still so he doesn’t try to bite them. Pavitr wouldn’t judge him, Hobie wouldn’t judge him. Not now, not now, not now , he begs his brain. Behave. Be normal. You’re fine.

“I just… I guess I don’t ever really feel hungry. Like, I get hungry after too long, but I only really know when it’s been that long when the headaches and cramps start. Or the dizziness and all that,” Miles explains, voice getting meeker with each word. Be cool, Morales. For your own sake, just be cool.

“How often are you eating?” Hovie immediately asks him, a hard look in his eye. 

Oh. He’s worried about- “No, look- I’m fine. I eat at the right times y'know, I’m supposed to. Breakfast in the morning, lunch in the afternoon, dinner in the evenings, maybe a midnight snack. So I’m good, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Hobie lets out a (relieved?) sigh, “And what about the times you forget to?“

“Oh, I just don’t get the signal until it gets bad, I guess.”

Hobie stares at him until Miles feels like he’s ready to crawl into the sewers and hide there forever, so he uses the passing of someone exiting the building as an excuse to look away and focus back on his food. 

“So how long has it been since you last ate?” Hobie asks him.

Miles has to count on his fingers, and apparently that action alone is enough for Hobie, because he just huffs and waves his hand for him to stop. “Just eat.”

Miles decides to stop separating the food and shovels a forkful in his mouth, still ending up feeling a little embarrassed.

___

“Ms. Spider-Man, why are you standing like Barbie?” a young girl asks him after he catches her from falling off the balcony. He’s standing on the wall making sure she goes back inside, and looks down. Right.

He’s on his tiptoes again. Clearing his throat, he flattens his feet against the brick, suppressing the strange shudder the sudden shift caused.

“Sometimes I just walk like that,” he tells her.

“Oh. Okay. Bye,” she says nonchalantly as she goes back into the building. 

Miles wishes all conversations were that easy. Children are way easier to talk to than other people, and that’s a prime example. They have a question, they ask that question, that question gets answered, and they’re (usually) fine and go about their business. 

Is that so bad? 

___

Miles is shirtless, sprawled on the couch and staring blankly at the ceiling, occasionally having to move his limbs when Ganke feels like checking the couch for the billionth time might reveal the missing lego piece he’s looking for. It’s a rare day where he and his parents are both home, so he invited Ganke over to make sure he doesn’t lose his mind in this heat paired with his parents being sappy and grossly in love in the kitchen. Why Ganke decided it was the perfect temperature and moment to start moving shit around and rearrange Miles’s limp body to check between couch cushions in search of missing lego pieces, Miles will never know.

He tries to listen to music loud enough to drown out the sound of his parents talking, and the feeling of his shorts scratching his skin. It was maddening, but it’s not like he could walk around in his underwear. He could in his room of course, but there isn’t an AC in there to keep him cool, and opening the window would be useless in the heat.

Seeing Ganke say something, Miles pauses his music. “What?”

“I was just saying how you’re fine with super loud music only when you’re the one listening to it with your headphones. Otherwise it’s like you’re being- what did you say? Stabbed in the head?” Ganke gives him a quizzical once-over before returning to check under the couch. “Would your parents be mad if I moved this?”

“Oh,” Miles says, “yeah, I don’t really know how that works either. And it wasn’t stabbed, it was hit repeatedly with a blunt object.”

“Same thing.”

“So not the same thing, and don’t move the couch, you’ll probably unearth a government secret and put us all on a list because you thought it was a good idea to show your Glitch chat,” Miles scoffs playfully, making unpausing his music obvious with loud taps so Ganke can tell in case he has anything else to say. 

“That was one time, how was I supposed to…” Ganke’s voice trails off as the song increases in volume again.

But seriously, why did he do that? Loud, sudden, and repetitive noises were the bane of his existence on one of his bad days, and extremely annoying to the point of anger and watery eyes on his bests. He usually wanted to break something if someone else was clicking their pen, or tear out his hair and bite into something if they were talking too loud to him, but when he was making the noises, he felt perfectly fine. Better, in fact. 

There was a time, he thinks, when he was around eight or nine. He couldn’t have been older than that because he lost a tooth to a car door when he was ten, and he doesn’t remember that feeling then. There were guests over, maybe his mom or dad’s friends from work and some family members coming to congratulate him on graduating some grade at the top of his class? Anyway, Miles wasn’t enjoying it. He hid in his room and under his covers with his hands practically glued to his ears and his eyes squeezed shut. They were all talking so loud, and when he was out in the kitchen fixing his plate of food, he could hear everyone chewing, smell their colognes and perfumes, and don’t get him started on the one lady with the high-pitched laugh. He hated, absolutely hated , how shrill it sounded, it made his arms feel like they were made of jelly as a cold chill ran through him each time. He didn’t say anything though, because his parents raised him better than that, and it was mean. Even eight-or-nine year old Miles could understand that, though it took a while getting there.

When he sat down and began to eat, his fork scraped his teeth in the first bite. He gagged quietly and ran to his room, scratching at his arms and biting down on nothing repeatedly. He wanted to scream, but he wasn’t going to draw attention and make everyone worried. He wanted to tear at his face and hair until it all came off, he wanted to bash his head in the wall until he couldn’t feel anything, he wanted to just crawl out of his body. He didn’t want to feel what it felt, that awful, repulsive, spine-chilling feeling of silverware against his two front teeth. He couldn’t breathe, and curling into a ball against his bedroom door once he escaped the front area didn’t help. He rapidly tapped his nails on the floor as he tried to search for any solution.

Which led to him curled up tightly in his covers with his hands over his ears and his nails digging into his skin. He tensed his entire body up the second he wrapped the covers around him, constricting not too unlike a snake that has caught prey but with all the care of his father’s hugs after he made him proud, and curled his toes as if it would change anything. He found that biting his lip helped, but his mother wasn’t too pleased with that when she found him a few minutes later, wondering where her little boy had gone.

Her singing a calming tune that she usually sang to get him to sleep as a baby didn’t help at all now.

She sighed, and Miles expected her to tell everyone to leave and that the party was over because Miles was too upset over nothing, but she came back a few moments later and put some headphones over his head in place of his hands.

“They were a gift me and your father were going to give you tonight,” she whispered with a small smile, pressing a button on a silver ipod nano, and music filled Miles’s ears. He felt his eyelids start drooping immediately, his shoulders slacked, and could feel all his senses slowly going back down to 5, instead of the 11 they were dialed up to. The song drowned out everything in the world, erasing all the reminders of the loud people, disgusting feelings, and violent thoughts.

“Come get us when you’re feeling better, okay?” 

Miles nodded, incapable of doing much else, and his mother kissed his forehead before quietly leaving the room.

Of course, he can’t afford to be like that as Spider-Man, so he mostly suppressed those negative feelings when he could. He hears all that stuff all the time now anyway with his enhanced senses, so he’s just going to have to deal with it. It’s not even as bad as it was when he was a kid, it’s way easier for him to grit his teeth and keep pushing compared to all those years ago.

But the control that comes with his music sort of… cancels out, he guesses, the negative effects that the noises give him. He’s in charge of what plays, when it plays, at what volume, and at what speed. If he’s in control of the noise then it’s not bad. If he isn’t, then it’s bad. Simple as that.

“Yeah, I see it that way too,” his father’s voice is muffled but still close enough to make Miles jump.

The man laughs and thumps him on the shoulder. Miles cringes at the feeling of the cold sweat making contact and lightly shoves the man’s hand off with a smile.

___

Miles stayed up late in his bunk, staring wide eyed at the screen. He had finally decided to look up all of his symptoms, something his mother and friends always told him not to do very often unless he wanted to discover he had a rare type of brain cancer, and was surprised by what he saw.

10 Signs Your Child Has Autism (And How To Cope)

Is My Son Autistic? Twenty Ways To Deal With Food Avoidance In Autistic Toddlers

Sensory Overload and Sensory Processing Disorder

Autism in Girls V.S. Boys 

Am I Autistic Quiz (Real Answers)

Signs Of Autism & When To Call Your Doctor

Why Are Autistic Girls Less Diagnosed Than Autistic Boys?

He turns off his phone and goes to bed.

___

Crawling back into the dorm after a long night, Miles pulls off his mask and lays down next to Ganke, who’s still playing his game. “Hobie, can I ask you something?”

“I’m asleep,” Hobie says from his sprawl on Miles’s bunk. The older boy must have snuck in while he was out and Ganke didn’t try to chase him out this time.

“Are you autistic?“

“Do it look like I’d care mate?” A boot falls off and hits Ganke’s leg, making him grumble in annoyance. Miles leans into him and rubs his arm until Ganke gets the hint and wraps it around the boy, not once taking his eye off the screen. 

Miles rolls his eyes. “And you, Ganke?”

“Probably. Mom said it’s ADHD but I don’t really care,” the boy mumbles in response, subconsciously leaning back into Miles, “not like it’d change anything.”

Miles smiles. That’s true, Ganke probably doesn’t care about anything like that. He’s always pretty chill when it comes to people- actually, that might not be the right word. He can be pretty harsh or wired, but everything he says is in a tired and chill way. “Remember that time you told me you hoped I died because I accidentally spilled sriracha all over your new pants?” Miles asks him, smiling at the memory.

Ganke laughs fondly, “Oh yeah, man I looked like I bled through and just never noticed. You were so lucky we were in here, I would have killed you if I had to walk across the cafeteria with sauce all on me.”

“Aw, you wouldn’t’ve done that. You love me too much to kill me.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You do.”

Another boot drops on Ganke’s leg, and a pocket knife falls out of it when it hits the ground. Hobie grumbles from above, “Shut it, you two. I got a long day at the office tomorrow. Gotta bring home the bacon for the missus and youngins.”

“Hobie said shut up.”

“Really? I didn’t hear him,” Miles says, feeling himself slipping as he watched Peter (who looked very young in this game for some reason) fight some black-and-white guy in a suit. Huh. Would people make a game about him when he died? With the made-up villains? Would they put Ganke in the game?

Ganke slightly turns his head so his lips brush against Miles’s forehead for the briefest of seconds, bringing him back to reality before he fully zoned out, and tells him, “If they do, I’ll make sure they know to include your Strawberry Shortcake pajama sets.”

Miles brings his knees up to his chest, a quiet purr starting up as Peter proceeds to get his ass handed to him in a train car. Yikes.

___

“Are you autistic?” Miles asks Gwen.

“No, she’s just blonde,” answers Pavitr. 

“Shut up,” Gwen lightly punches Pavitr, still enough to send him flying across the roof, “No, I don’t have anything going on. Why?”

Miles wipes some blood from his lip. “I was just wondering. Let’s keep going,” he says, a bit breathless.

Gwen places a hand on her hip and asks him, “You sure? You look kind of tired. I get that we just started trying this out and all, but you don’t have to force yourself to join.”

The sparring meetups let him get rid of his energy, and the feeling of the punches that almost hurt remind him of where he is.The chokeholds that are tight against his throat make his lungs burn and that burn makes him feel all the more real. The body-slamming forces his mind to stop its aimless floating away from him and to keep track of what damage is being done. The rare moments of skin-to-skin contact are like moments of pure clarity, and he can’t lose that.

In the end, when he’s sweaty and exhausted, he feels human again. Normal. Right.

“I’m sure.”

___

During lunch, Ganke places a necklace on his lap. It had a dark red guitar pick-shaped object on what looked like a pretty long piece of dental floss.

“Pavitr wanted me to give this to you since he couldn’t find you,” Ganke tells him, “and he said to wash it before and after each time you use it.”

“Is this what I think it is?” he asks around a mouth of rice. 

“Chew necklace. We wanted to give you something else to bite instead of yourself,” Ganke gestures to the bandages on his arms that were barely visible. Miles pulls down his sleeve with a frown. Those were from last night, when his brain wouldn’t give him a break and kept making him think about all the sensations he hates, and his friend patched him up. Again.

Are Ganke’s eyebags getting worse?

Miles looked a bit skeptical. He saw a picture of one a few days ago, when he was at Gwen’s and researching more autistic traits. He'll definitely be looked at funny if he ever used it though, he just knows it. Sure, people chew on their pens and pencils, even he sometimes did that, but using basically a teething toy felt slightly insulting. The very sight of it makes it look right out of a children’s book, and it’s an uncomfortable weight on his thigh, reminding him of how different, in the bad way, he was compared to everybody else. He rolls his eyes at the unnecessary reminder.

“I’m not using that,” he tells him, taking another bite of his (actually Ganke’s, who was already full from the totally allowed and not-against-the-rules outing for breakfast they took) lunch. It was a good thing Ganke naturally liked to separate his foods a lot too.

“Too bad. You can’t keep self-cannibalizing yourself-” 

“Okay wow, that’s a little much-“

“-and expecting to be fine. Isn’t your mom a nurse? What about long lasting nerve-damage, or if you bite into an artery? Or if you start biting random people because your own self isn’t enough? You ever thought of that?” Ganke asks him, not looking up from his… whatever he’s doing on his laptop.

I don’t have to think about it if I already did that, thank you very much , Miles thinks. He keeps chewing, his frown growing more and more prominent by the second. “I’m not gonna bite people. I’m not like…” he tries to save some face with the lie, but trails off. He doesn’t wanna think about Miguel.

Ganke side eyes him. “Like what?”

Miles shakes his head. “Nothing. Nobody. Just go back to threatening random people in a children’s game or something,” he says, finishing up the last of the lunch. He’s probably going to have to eat really soon again with the stupidly enhanced metabolism.

“Dude, just take the necklace and try it, because if you start biting me, I don’t care how cute you are, I’m kicking your ass,” Ganke tells him with no real heat in his voice.

Miles cracks a smile against his will, and puts the necklace in his pocket. 

___

Dear Diary,

I’ve been looking online for some stories people have about their autism and how they figured it out, and apparently my organizing and oversensitivity is like a number one sign??? I thought it was just a little habit i picked up from mami and dad? And the spider senses is probably causing those other issues. And I don’t think i’m autistic but I could probably use the things they do to calm myself down or make life a bit more bearable. 

-organizing things

-a lot of stimming

-speech issues 

-hearing issues

-pressure ← try and finally ask for weighted blanket or save money

It’s a start i guess, and then I can bring it up to my dad as Spider-Man THEN mami THEN dad (important order don’t mess this up Morales). Anyway good note to end the entry on: Ganke kissed my forehead and he does that a lot but this time he said he was proud of me out of nowhere and said he’s getting a gift for us????? Hello???? I think it might have to do with Spider-Man stuff but he usually doesn’t care so its gotta be something else but WHAT!!!!

___

“Dad, I’m just saying,” Miles begins, holding his hands up in a surrendering way, as his father washes the dishes. He’s sitting down on the counter, lightly swinging his legs. “Give Maria’s a chance, you’ve never even tried their sandwiches! How do you know it’s bad?”

“I know what I like, and I don’t see a reason to suddenly chan-”

“Oh, wait, someone’s calling,” Miles interrupts him as he pulls his phone out, seeing Ganke’s name on the screen. What could he want? Ganke usually didn’t call him, opting to text, and definitely not before 12pm on a weekend.

“How can you even see? Your brightness is set to negative levels,” his dad said, trying his best to scrub some dried food off a plate. Miles never liked doing that, or even thinking about it, because it always made him feel like his fingers were some dangerous foreign object that he needed to rip off or felt the urge to dig his nails into his skin and tear his hair out. 

“You know the light hurts my eyes,” and makes me mad, he doesn’t say.

“Ganke? You need something?”

“No, was just checking on you,” the boy sleepily mumbles into the phone.

“Before 9am?” Miles loudly gasps, placing a hand on his chest.

“Shut up. I also got a package today and you’re gonna wanna check it out.”

“Mmmm I don’t know,” Miles says, fiddling with the string of his hoodie. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” Ganke tells him, and Miles can imagine him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and blindly patting the bed in search of his glasses. His hair is definitely sticking out wildly, a few strands stuck to his freckled cheeks. 

“You know I don’t like your surprises,” Miles grumbled into the phone. His dad gives him a slightly alarmed look, neither of them liked them. Ganke’s surprises usually involved someone being scared out of their mind, a wild animal (though he tends to blame Miles’s influence on that), and some piece of tech that might take over the world should he set it loose. In fact, the last time was all of that, and Miles had to call his dad, Hobie, and then Peter to solve the raccoon-with-an-atom-vaporizer-gun issue. And Miles was the one that got grounded longer, for some reason.

Anyway, he doesn’t like really Ganke’s surprises.

“No no no, you’ll like this one. I had to buy it,” Ganke tells him. “It’s kind of for us to share since I know I won’t use it as much.”

Miles can hear his soft footfalls on the wooden flooring as he left his carpeted room. 

“I’m asking you to come over,” Ganke clarifies, “it’s so safe that you can bring your dad. Trust me.”

“Man…”

“Dude, c’monnnn. If you come over I’ll…”

“You’ll what? Do my homework for me?” Miles jokes, ignoring the way his dad lets out a questioning hum.

“Nah man, I do that enough. I’ll let you take me to those weird abandoned places you like to paint at,” Ganke comes up with. Miles can hear water running and a toothpaste cap opening, and takes this as a sign to hang up.

“Deal, man. Love you, bye. We’ll be there in like twenty,” he says rather quickly so he doesn’t have to hear gross mouth noises and spitting. 

“We?” His dad lightly pushes at his shoulder on his way to dry his hands and get his glasses from the table.

Miles nods and gums in confirmation, “Stop acting like you don’t love Ganke, we’re just going see something real quick.”

His dad crosses his arms and looks down at him with an unimpressed stare, tilting his head to the dirty floors.

“And I’ll clean immediately when I get back.”

More staring. Miles looks down, unable to handle it.

“No messing around.”

Jeff nods and walks them both out the door.

An hour later, Jefferson sits on the Lees’ floor next to Miles, who’s fully covered in a fluffy white weighted blanket with only a small hole for his face, which reveals unfocused half-lidded eyes. It’s the calmest Jeff has ever seen his boy in a long time, maybe nearly two years, and it saddens him slightly to realize this, but he’s glad the blanket is helping.

Ganke sits next to Miles with his legs crossed and his elbows on his knees, gazing at the timer he set on his phone forlornly. 

“Dad,” Miles’s voice is barely audible.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m autistic.”

Jeff blinks once. Twice. Three times. Takes his glasses off and cleans them before putting them back on again. He opens his mouth, closes it, and furrows his brow a few times. As he processes and tries to come up with a response.

On Miles’s end, he wonders, in the back of his mind, if he made some mistake and should have just stuck with the plan he wrote, but he’s too content right now to care. He hears Ganke exhale a bit forcefully through his nose, something he’s come to recognize as another laugh he has.

“Right. Uh, right. We’ll talk about this. At home. With your mother,” Jeff decides to say in an extremely halted and forced-confident tone.

Oh well. Probably won’t change anything.

A/N: The end!!! I still have things that weren't important to say in the fic or Miles just wouldn't know them; Gwen has ADHD and is in denial, Pavitr has Autism & ADHD but hasn't told anyone, Hobie has autism but wouldn't know and doesn't call it that, Jeff is also autistic and doesn't know (the fic is originally called Autism BLAST for a reason), and that "Ms. Spider-Man" is entirely on purpose bc of the spores <3 All ooc thoughts is when the autism beast broke through. get the tranq darts

<<< Part 1

[xerith-42]

Thanks so much answering my last post! I have few more questions:

Is your rewrite published yet? If so what is it called and where could I read it?

Also- your descriptions of Irene and Shad/Araphel are awesome and I would love to hear more of them (of all the divine really). Was Irene the lover of Shad? How did she rise to power, and what was she like before she fought him (also how exactly did the fight start? You said he got into a rage due to obsessing over something he couldn't have (Irene's whole undivided attention/love, but does that mean he grew to be violent towards her and the other warriors? Did he fall into jealous fits upon seeing her interact with its members?)

Lastly- Was Edmund and Enki in love with Irene in your rewrite, or have you changed it to more familial love and duty? Similarly, is Xavier in your rewrite? If so, what part does he play in the story, and was he also in love with Irene?

Question 1: No, neither of them are. If you want to read some of my writings you can check out my AO3, but most of my writing on there is a different variety of gay block men, and I only have the MID works and reuploads of my Garrance week stuff as something in the Aphamu fanbase.

Question 2/3: Absolutely. Araphel and Irene had a very toxic romance with one another, one that could have looked good to an outsider, but was clearly awful from the perspective of everyone watching. Not from the start, they were once very loving and kind people towards one another, largely because they met before the relics came into play in their lives. It was once the relics showed up and started gving them responsibilities outside of each other that Irene became distant, and Araphel became jealous.

Before things fell apart, I could absolutely see the two of them happily lying in one another's arms in a river that once ran through the cursed forest. They could be caught gallivanting off onto another romantic vacation, going off to see if they could find more relic holders once they got theirs. Irene used to be a woman full of life, wonder, and ideals. Someone who sought out others to bring humans together. It was only when she saw how jealous Araphel became that she realized the folly of man, how susceptible they are to their vices.

It was a slow building sort of jealousy too. At first it was just wanting to be around her all the time, then it was getting angry when she was gone for too long, questioning her on who she was with and what they were doing. Then it became basically stalking, where Araphel didn't trust Irene on her own and made sure she wasn't seeing anyone else when she disappeared for so long. If she showed even the slightest interest towards Esmund or literally anybody else, Araphel would threaten them. Irene obviously became fed up with this behavior, but when you're both humans turned into demi-gods, your lovers spat becomes less of a petty argument, and into the kind of thing that can cause an all out war and ripping open dimensions with the help of giant intelligent flying lizards.

Wait who the fuck is Xavier and why is everyone mentioning him? [one wiki check later] Oh! Huh, well I hadn't thought about him in a minute. I don't believe Xavier was a relic holder, for one. I think he was Irene's childhood best friend who harbored feelings of love towards her that he never expressed out of fear of rejection, and eventually gave up on once Araphel came into the picture and he realized that Irene wanted something else. He still loves Irene and held no resentment towards her, only wishing for her to be able to return to the bright eyed optimistic girl he fell in love with while playing in their old village.

As for Enki and Esmund, Esmund is still very in love with Irene in my rewrites. There's even a scene in the Epic I wrote that has the person who inherited Kul'zak's relic making fun of Garroth for the fact that Esmund, Araphel, and Irene couldn't figure out the obvious solution they already figured out to this conundrum. The solution is polyamory. I really don't like Enki having a crush on Irene, I think it's just not a good choice for his character because it essentially makes the Divine Warriors just a bunch of guys fighting over one girl while Kul'zak and Menphina watch from the sidelines eating popcorn.

Which is basically the dynamic in my rewrite, but Enki is also on the sidelines with them and sometimes has violent make out sessions with Kul'azk while Menphina just rolls her eyes and starts simping over her favorite toxic couple.

[freedomfireflies]

this is about to be really long, just a warning—

update on the film i’m making with my friend (if that’s ringing a bell, i can’t remember how much i’ve mentioned this to you): we finished our july shoots yesterday and wrapped for a couple of our actors and it’s been amazing in the sense that the performances are great and the shots are looking awesome. however, our assistant director has apparently taken a liking to me, and while he’s very professional about his position and clearly knows what he’s doing which i greatly admire, i’m very much not interested. the first day the flirting wasn’t too egregious and i was able to laugh it off, but yesterday was almost unbearable for me. he would follow me on my heels everywhere i would go, come up behind me during takes and just breathe down my neck, and always move to sit next to me. i started testing it by moving around the room between takes to see if he would randomly follow—he always would. as the scripty for the film, it’s my job to be taking notes on pretty much everything happening during takes (timestamps, lenses, camera angles, line deviations, performance notes, shot types, etc.) by the time we were breaking for lunch, my hands were shaking so badly i couldn’t type. i felt like i was gonna suffocate. why do men do this again and again and again? completely tarnish valuable experiences for women because they think they’re entitled to their personal space? he wouldn’t stop talking at me, repeating back what i would say as if he’d just had the idea himself and was gracious enough to explain it to me. he would stare at me across the room, always. glance down at my chest every single time we would talk. our final shoots are in august and i’m not sure what to do. this is my film, a project i adore, and i refuse to let him take it away from me. but i just don’t know if i can stomach him again. i already feel like such an imposter on set—must i also feel like a piece of meat? i guess so.

i’m sorry for the totally downer message, and i certainly don’t expect you to come up with any solutions here, haha. i just wanted to share this. i feel pretty alone with this these days. thank you for reading if you do <3

My love ♥️

First of all, I'm so insanely sorry you're having to go through this, especially in a place that's supposed to be a safe environment for you and everyone else!

Is there any way you can either have him fired/removed from set/made to stay away from you (like opposite end of the property) OR is there anyone else you can talk to about this so they can make sure he doesn't get close?

You should never be made to feel like an object EVER. End of. And to disrespect you so publicly (and at all) is so far over the line, you can't even see the line anymore. If anything, it's inappropriate workplace behavior, and can be dealt with as such!

I know he might be in an important position for the film, but truly, it shouldn't matter. Assistant director or not, he's making somebody on set feel uncomfortable and deserves to be dealt with and punished. I know it's not an easy conversation to have, but please let me know if you have anybody to talk to about this so at least somebody else can be there with you so you aren't alone with him.

I'm so proud of you all for finishing and I'm so excited to hear about how it all goes! This is amazing work and I'm truly so impressed and inspired by you! And I hope this man doesn't get even a second of your joy and pride in your amazing work! And again, I'm so sorry this is something you're having to deal with. I know apologies don't help, but it makes me so upset to hear, and I'm sending you the biggest hug in the world ♥️

Please know you can message me any time (about this or anything!) and I will absolutely be here to talk or help you feel a little less alone! Especially if you end up seeing him again and want an escape!

I hope you're all right and taking care of yourself! You deserve to feel safe and respected everywhere and I hope you feel that way again so soon!

[auspwren]

A poem on generational addiction: “Sweet Nothing, Sweet Princess”

Once upon a time,  there was a sweet nothing that they called Princess who dreamed only of white knights, white fences, and perfect princes.  She searched and searched from her window,  her tower too tall. Searched and searched from her window,  but there was no love at all.

A stranger came one February day,  and he had much to say in such a way that did sway,  “Oh, Princess, my Princess,  I’ve heard your cries from afar. I have a solution, I promise,  and the path’s not hard.  Save your tears, help is near,  forget those old wishing stars.”

He smirked a most lovely smirk,  but I don’t think the princess saw.  She was too busy looking at his clothes,  the tell-tale sound of education behind every note.  he spoke,  the perfect color of his night sea cloak.  To her, he was better than anything that’s ever been wrote. 

“I know a potion, and it’s quite divine.  It entertains desires and unwinds the mind. You’ll find great love — a love that like you’ve never known before.  Hazy, lazy, faded, it’s waiting,  and it’s yours for the taking. I know a potion, and it’s quite divine.  All it needs is — ”

The Princess nodded her head before he was finished, and when he smiled, she decided not to listen,  “Whatever you want, I want what you’re giving.”

“Pause, child, you must hear my conditions,” I’m no child, she thought, but he did not witness, “The things I give to you, I take from your children.”

Maybe she didn’t know what she was saying,  Maybe there was no possibility, so she thought she was winning the game.  She agreed, and she took what he offered,  took everything she could,  and then she became a mother.

Married a prince, not the man in the cloak, but he always made himself right at home.  Her husband would roar, and he would cry,  “Why does he still haunt your doorway at night? You have duties as a woman, and you have duties as a wife.  We have a child, dear Princess, so I heed you to listen,  don’t entertain him anymore.  Don’t miss him.”

“He has a potion, you know this. I take it every night.  It’s the only reason I — we — have this beautiful life.  No more window shopping, no more towers, no more wishlists to the skies.  I’ve got the best of the best, and for you, dear husband, I have been blessed, but he’s got something that I can’t resist.”

“Our child,” her husband whines,  And she rolls her eyes,  “You wanted a damn child, Not I.  She will be just fine.” When she walks out,  the husband mutters, “Yeah, well, then why does she have his eyes?”

Many moons later, the princess found herself alone. The prince grew tired of welcoming strangers into his home.  He took all of his fine clothes, fine money, fine friends,  and even now his location remains unknown.  Relieved she was ’cause there was fire in the words he spoke.  Her life, her dreams, they had all turned to smoke. In the end, he was worst than anything, anybody had wrote.  But he left her a castle,  something half-haunted with happy memory offerings and she had no choice but to stay.

At night, in moonlight, her stranger returned,  “You promised me love,” she would scream against his chest, but in the end, every word he said was said best,  in earnest with the blunt truth of earnest, he assured, “You can still have love, it’s not too late. You just have to learn to wait, you just have to change the way you think, I know my love, it doesn’t happen anymore — not in a blink until then, while you wait, let us have another drink.”

“I want your love,” she says, she pleas.

And he smirked, this time she did see,  “And you will have love, my love,  if you just drink.”

Time is time, and it carries on sickly,  but through everything her stranger stayed, and came swiftly.  Held her hand through new love, new habit, new life, new man.  Time is time, and it carried like she wanted it to be.

Then a day came, longer after winter’s February,  when the stranger presented the princess with two vials,  “One for you, and one for our child.” Our child, oh the sound of it,  how it made her smile.  “Where is your daughter, my dear Princess?  The time has come, and it is kismet. Look at you, look how you have lived it.  Time for our sweet girl to pay the piper,  isn’t it?”

“How will she pay you?” The princess did sniff. 

He waved his hand, and he said, “Oh, Princess, darling,  you know you never truly listen.  You have paid the cost with every sip! You found your dear prince in the bar,  and took it just a little too far, but here we are.  The consequence has always fallen on your child’s shoulders.  Your heart broke when he left, but it was her that had to clean up, and nurture the mess.”

The princess tilts her head, never once having considered it,  “I gave you beauty, and in your beauty, you dissembled her pride.  Why, I do not know,  and you may blame me for that in time. You flaunted, you taunted, you said your say,”  He shrugs, smirk turned rotten, her face gone pale with distaste, “You have lived easy, have you not? All the hard times, my potion made glimmery good times, no? I ask you this question, what peace has your daughter known? Name it, say it, and I will tell you if it’s true.”

The princess waits, pieces of a delusion erased, The stranger goes on to say, “I gave you everything,  and I will take her all. Why are you surprised, my love,  it’s everything I’ve been saying,  dove.”

“What kind of poison,” is all she could speak, hands raised to her mouth, finding it hard to breathe.  The vials fell to the ground, although he did reach, clattering, shattering piercing sound,  liquid soaking in the ground. Her hand still over her mouth. His brow raises, hell raising with it,  “All these years I wondered if you would ask now,  and even then, I confess, I did have my doubts. Name or side effects, what do you choose?”

“Side effects is all I’ve known,  your name will do.”

“I’ll give you one better, and tell you what you have consumed,”  He waves her forward,  “Come close, I’ll whisper,” She does what she must, no fear, no whimper,  “I’ve given you spirits, don’t you feel them, running through your veins? Life, my love, it’s what you cried for,  I heard it from a far. My spirits, they hear it, as you know, I often listen.”

She whispers, “I think you… I think you forgot to mention.” He shakes his head, “No, darling,  you just don’t listen.” He looks to the ground, “Now, how are we going to fix this?”

[gretakatharinaa]

Scorpios and eye rolls - about The Barnum Effect

I don’t think that anything has earned me more eye rolls from others than me (1) saying I’m a feminist or (2) asking someone about their zodiac sign.

The way I see it, there are two groups of people: The ones who like talking about zodiac signs and the ones that absolutely detest it.

While I’m not here to slander either of these groups, I would like to talk about what makes zodiac signs so compelling. 

Yes, I know, everybody has the same answer in their head, making me look like a fool for dedicating an article to a question to which the answer is so evident.

”They don’t mean anything, they’re just general statements anybody can relate to“

Obviously, that’s how they work. 

Looking further as to why zodiac signs, psychic readings or even self help books seem to perfectly hit the mark for every person reading/listening, is actually due to a very compelling psychological phenomenon.

The Barnum Effect was named after P.T. Barnum in 1965 by psychologist Paul Meehl. 

P.T. Barnum, an American showman and politician originally inspired Bertram Forer, who named the now known Barnum effect ”fallacy of personal validation”. Essentially, the effect applied to general characterizations attributed to an individual, making said individual perceive specific description, ignoring the universality of the statement made.

To simplify: The Barnum effect makes you believe someone is specifically describing your personality, when really it’s just a general statement that could apply to most people.

Forer listed some of these general statements in a classic experiment in 1948. To name a few:

You have the tendency to be critical of yourself.

Security is one of your major goals in life.

You pride yourself as an independent thinker and do not accept others’ statements without satisfactory proof.

The last one was too ironic not to be included.

 Barnum - the showman who actually partly inspired the Greatest showman - advertised his show by saying it’s ”something for everyone”, insinuating personal interest and promising entertainment, no matter for whom. It ensured people, intrigued them and essentially - worked. 

The Barnum effect doesn’t only take place in horoscopes or psychic readings: 

It’s used in many forms of marketing.

”Because you desire security in the future“ - marketing for life insurance.

”You deserve some time for yourself” - marketing spa products, such as face masks or bath salts.

”Looking for a getaway?” - marketing for vacations.

General statements are general simply because they always apply to the masses. Everybody tends to be self-critical, to crave security, to want a vacation. That’s why Barnum’s statements worked, that’s how ads work. 

Coming back to zodiac signs and eye rolls. Two reasons as to  why some people genuinely believe in them is (1) people love to learn or hear about themselves and (2) people begin to get proof.

About (1): When people describe you, say positive things about you, it tends to be intriguing simply because human brains suck up being perceived. You learn so much about yourself when you are actively perceived and told about, whether it’s good things or bad.

About (2): Say you had an ex, and they were kind of shitty. Say you knew their zodiac sign. Say you meet more people with that zodiac sign. Selective perception will make you hyper aware to the connection between the bad traits your ex had and other people, sharing their zodiac sign, sharing those traits. 

And right there, another phenomenon takes place, besides the Barnum effect and selective perception: The Illusory Truth Effect, essentially meaning that information tends to be believed faster and easier after repeated exposure, regardless of its accuracy.

Our brain is simply wired to find solutions, explanations and reasons for anything and everything, taking in every information possible. That is why horoscopes work, that is how people believe in them and that is how they spread and cause eye rolls and articles by a bored law student on a Tuesday night.

When it comes to me and horoscopes, I actually, truthfully do not believe in them. It’s like the Kardashians: It’s not real, but extremely entertaining.

Still, I love getting into zodiac signs and (jokingly) judging people, but maybe that’s just because I’m a scorpio. (I really hope you just rolled your eyes).

[chialebeauf]

Take care of yourselves tomorrow

Seriously, have fun but be careful

TW: police brutality, general protest fuckery, I don't endorse any of the following, it's juste research for my OC ;)

So tomorrow is May 1st, la fête du zbeul et des travailleur.euse.s! For some of you it might even be your first big protest.

I have a hunch this one wil be BIG big and considering how cops have acted lately and how pissed off a lot of people are, shit will kick off and might do so early on and as far as the Unions part of the protests, way back up the protest.

Before all of that, take out your contacts, they don't work nice with tear gas. Sorry for your selfies but you're better off not using make up or creams before hand, those sticks the CS particles on your skin and are nightmarish. Don't remember to bring enough water, and good shoes, both will serve you well.

Quick edit: Don't go alone please and if you do try to at least make some sort of buddy system with random nice people you met at the protest, there are a lot of those going around. If you have a medical condition or just want a nice day ou, try to find the bigass baloon of a "nice and calm" union (ie not SUD) and stay around it (the CGT one is the "party bus" and they got good booze and dubious food at low prices, FO are lame but it's waaay safe) it's usually both relaxed, lively and safe.

Good practice is to "clean your phone" of anything that could be incriminating for anybody or even better having an empty burner on hand.

Now if you're pissed off and see yourself be susceptible to come into contact with tear gas, the pool goggles (try to hide them under your clothes, police often confiscates those beforehand*)/ FFP2 mask combo usually works pretty well. In case it doesn't, keep a generous supply of saline(those too*) to flush the eyes (no touching them with your hands you fool) and some 50/50 Maalox/water solution (this too, but just bullshit them you have heartbrun since it's what it's supposed to be) to flush hands/face, etc. Ear protection could come useful too

Obviously keep your wits about you, know were the cops are, try to recognise if the situation is getting heated. You might hear their whistle launching the charge and now to get out the way for instance.

As usual don't grab shit you don't know or recognise with your hands. This site has a lists and descriptions of what you're liable to encounter The CS hockey puck things are ok to kick back but don't pick them up they're hot as hell. As for the fit, having an all black windbreaker with a hood, grey or black shit sneakers and black sweatpants, all of those in a bag and easy to wear take off would be nice if you're action oriented. Gloves are paramount and since 12 now has the right to use drone a beautiful black umbrella would just complete it.

If you're unlucky to get pinched make sure you had a lawyer's number memorized (or written in marker on your body). There are plenty of legal teams all over the country but look them up before. Once there, don't say shit besides your identity and address and that you want to see your lawyer. The lawyer will explain the whole thing to you better once you see them. They'll ask if you want to see a doctor, always say yes, at the very least it'll break the monotony. You also have a right to a hygiene kit, make sur to ask for it. The food isn't spectacular but it's edible so eat that shit you might spend up to 2 days in that bitch, keep your strength.

Sorry, I have to find a way to keep those clear and organised. Stay safe baby leftists we love you and you're awesome.

(all of this mostly applies to France)

ON EST LAAAA!

[flakytartart]

Did ANYBODY save any of the DSMP "_____ kinnie playlist" videos?

 Help a brother out please, I am very serious and a little desperate.

...Okay, more than a little desperate.

If any of you had intense brainrot like me during the SMP you probably listened to a kinnie playlist for your favorite SMP member. I was wondering if anybody saved any of the (I don’t know if they were the first to do this but I’m gonna call them) original DSMP kinnie playlist videos? For whatever reason around late 2021/early 2022 they took down Technoblade’s playlist and I told myself to download the others...I never did (curse my laziness) and now I can’t find any of them. They’re all just...gone.

I’m specifically interested in the kinnie playlists for Technoblade, Badboyhalo, Jschlatt, Sapnap, Quackity, and Skeppy but would love to see/hear anything you have of these videos (song lists, screenshots, files/downloads, anything about the channel, links to the fanart used, etc.)

- Thumbnails were very similar to current playlist videos (solid color background, square in the middle with fanart)

- They had one for every member of the SMP and didn’t make specific playlists (no eggpire!BBH or exile!Tommy, just BBH and Tommy)

- Each playlist/video was ~20-30 minutes long

All the songs I can remember from my favorite playlists:

⭐ Technoblade: 

My Axe by Insane Clown Posse

The Other Side of Paradise by Glass Animals

Little Dark Age by MGMT

Evil Like Me from Descendants (slowed down)

⭐ Badboyhalo: 

I Can't Decide by Scissor Sisters

Living Island by Pogo

Everybody Loves Me by OneRepublic

Butch 4 Butch by Rio Romeo

⭐ Jschlatt:

Wanna Play? by The Prophet (edited so that Schlatt’s laugh plays in time with the track)

Hokus Pokus by Insane Clown Posse (edited so that Schaltt’s laugh plays in time with the track  - “hahahaha hahahaha, FUCK YOU!”)

People I Don’t Like by UPSAHL

Loved by FEiN*

MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name) by Lil Nas X (slowed down)

WAA (Wet Ass Ass) by Brandon Rogers (edited so that the “Look at me, worship me” part is slowed down)

⭐ Sapnap:

Rebels by Call Me Karizma (slowed down - this one actually really surprised me because I listened to Sapnap’s playlist so often that the original sounded hella off)

Burning Pile by Mother Mother

⭐ Quackity:

Rät by Penelope Scott

Devil's Train by The Lab Rats

Moonsickness by Penelope Scott*

*I’m not sure if this song belongs to this playlist/was on anybody's playlist.

⭐ Wilbur had his song Saline Solution

⭐ Dream also had Everybody Loves Me by OneRepublic

⭐ Somebody had Safe and Sound by Capital Cities on their playlist, I just don’t remember who...maybe Dream or George?

So...yeah! These playlists mean a lot to me, hence the super long and detailed post. I got into Insane Clown Posse because of the Technoblade playlist and I’m just really sad everything is gone. Thank you so much for reading, I hope someone out there has anything on these vids.

BONUS ROUND BECAUSE I JUST REMEMBERED: Does anybody have that one song that sounds like Skeppy. It’s really flashy and there’s a verse in it that sounds EXACTLY like him, it was circulating on happytwt back in 2021 I think.

[the---hermit]

Niente Di Nuovo Sul Fronte Di Rebibbia by Zerocalcare

If you read my posts often you know Zerocalcare by now, since in the past few weeks I have been catching up with some of the graphic novels by him I hadn't read yet. This book in particular is another collection of short non fiction in graphic form. It's shorter than other books by him, but it's very dense, as the topics he talks about are quite intense. Since it's just five chapters I will say a few words on each.

The first story is about the rebellions that took place in several Italian prisons during the pandemic, with a focus on Rebibbia (since the author lives there). He shares the experiences of some people he spoke to, some who were in prison at the time, and people who had loved one in prison then. He ventures to reflect on the whole prison situation in the country, and doesn't shy away from police brutality inside prisons. It was very touching, it triggered a lot of reflections for me, and it was overall a great opening chapter to this book.

The second chapter focuses on the health care system. How it is in fact not provided as is should, since public structures are shut down so often it either pushes people into waiting lists that can last years, or into private solutions that cause people to spend an insane amount of money. It's so accurate it's scary, it makes you realize thar at the end of the day dystopic situations aren't as far off from reality as we's like to think.

The third chapter was a deep dive in cancel culture in Italy, and oh boy it was great. He did a great job at putting back into perspective all those people who love to say that "we live in an era in which you can't say anything anymore", which is a sentence I hear way too much. I think this chapter was very well done because it could reach anybody for its language and topics and it's exactly what we need.

The fourth chapter deals with a topic we know is very dear to this author, which is the Kurdish resistence in the Middle East. Zerocalcare has an entire graphic journalism pubblication on the topic, and continues to actively report on the situation is a great way that makes these complicated political dynamics very accessible.

Finally the last chapter is more self-reflective. It deals with his experience in creating a series with Netflix, and it mostly focuses on his personal emotional journey in embarking is such a big project. It was really good to see this side of things, and as you might know from previous reviews I wrote on his books I have a soft spot for his more self reflective stories.

I tried to give a very general and simplified idea of the topics of the book, but I surely didn't give it justice. There were several passages that physically made me shiver, it's a great book. I have praised his writing a lot and I stand by it. I love the storytelling this man is capable of, his ability to deal with incredibly important and heavy topics without letting go of a humorous side that makes everything more accessible for a larger audience. This is one of the authors I would by anything from without checking the plot because I trust him so much.

I read this book for the bright colours on the cover prompt of the jumbo reading challenge.