#if you like it give it a kudo on ao3

[dannyphannypack]

i am once again asking for niche or under-appreciated danny phantom fanfics/crossovers

[dolcepuccino]

giving the vibe “you drive the boat, i’ll take care of our baby” 🧸

[cepetriwrites]

Showing my love/advertising for fic via memes

Baela’s post dinner presentation to Jace about why they should get a second spouse/wife.

(First argument is just: cause we deserve to treat ourselves)

Baela baby trying to marry the enemy is something you have to soft pitch to your sister 🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

AU where Jace and Baela survive the dance, get crowned rulers, and end up marrying Helaena (hurt/comfort, gay panic, Jaehaera is adorable)

A Ghost in My Stead

@brielyse95

[sickficideas]

gotta hear me out || sick Akutagawa w/ caretaker Atsushi - chapter 2 of 3

ao3! 5.1k/10.6k - please refer to the tags in the link for content + warnings! sicktember 2024, day 30: past prompt (2022, day 27: sleepless night)

Atsushi tries to keep himself busy. There’s not many signs at all that Akutagawa has done anything in his home outside of his room - there’s a few dishes and a pot in the sink that Atsushi decides to clean and put away, dishes far fancier than necessary, he thinks - a rice cooker and a teapot on the counter too. He thinks his next objective is going to be to get Akutagawa to eat something. Rice is probably an easy start.

The storm seems to have let up a bit. It’s still raining, sky still filled to the brim with dark clouds, but he hasn’t heard thunder for a while. He knows that it won’t continue like this, but it’s a nice break for now. He really hates having to listen to thunder.

He finally finds a thermometer, too. He snuck into Akutagawa’s bathroom through a second door, finding one buried under other medical supplies, without charged batteries, of course. At least the batteries were easier to find, and now he has a working thermometer.

He checks his own temperature, laying the thermometer under his tongue for a few seconds, to make sure it’s working properly. He’s been told by Yosano that his temperature is higher than the average human’s, closer to that of a tiger’s, and the thermometer reflects that. A hundred and one point one. That would be a decent fever on a normal person. He washes the thermometer and sets it on the counter beside the rice cooker.

Atsushi turns the TV in the living room after peering around for a remote. Thankfully, it was already on a very low volume. He doesn’t need it loud at all, he really just wants to keep track of the news. They’re actively reporting on the storm, confirming his hypothesis that it will indeed continue on through the night.

He bites his lip.

He wanders back into the kitchen, deciding he’ll work on the daunting task of trying to figure out how the rice cooker works. It’s more difficult than it looks. It’s way, way fancier than one he’s ever seen, and he thinks he might have to give up and opt for cooking rice in a pot, but luck is on his side, and he finds a manual.

He turns back to the island in the kitchen, opening the foldable manual to find the section that explains which buttons do what, and he catches something dark in his peripheral. Atsushi backs up, nearly hits his back against the other counter, arms defensively over his chest as he gasps.

Akutagawa just raises his eyebrows in vague confusion. He’s sitting at the kitchen island on one of the bar stools, one arm crossed and his head propped on the other.

“You scared me,” Atsushi says with the heavy sigh, lowering his arms and closing his eyes for a few seconds, trying to lower his heart rate. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Not long,” Akutagawa says simply. Atsushi has no idea how he didn’t hear him leave his room. He doesn’t even really look half-asleep, his eyes just squint, bothered by the overhead light. Atsushi wanders over to the light switch to turn it off.

“Do you ever have these on?” Atsushi asks him, realizing a pattern from earlier.

“No,” Akutagawa says. “I hate having the lights on. Such a waste. I can see perfectly fine without them.”

“Maybe you’re still a vampire after all,” Atsushi jokes, finding the connection a little amusing.

“Ugh, shut up,” Akutagawa grumbles, bringing his head down into his hand and pressing them against his temples. Atsushi realizes he still definitely has a headache, no wonder the lights are bothering him so much. He’s slept a few hours, at the very least, Atsushi was hoping that would help. He definitely needs something in his system.

“When was the last time you had something to eat?” Atsushi asks him, folding up the manual after figuring out enough to be able to do simple things with the rice cooker.

“Not sure,” Akutagawa murmurs, lowering his hands back onto the counter, “a couple of days ago.”

Atsushi’s eyes widen. “Days?!”

“I don't eat often. That's not abnormal,” Akuatagwa huffs, like that’s an easily acceptable answer.

“Well, yeah. That's clear,” Atsushi mumbles. Akutagawa is ridiculously thin, which he’s sure has something to do with his illness, but he’s seen him regularly refuse to eat. “You should eat every day. No wonder you're passing out all the time.”

Akutagawa seems taken aback by that accusation. “I do not pass out all the time.”

“I can't count the number of times I've seen you pass out on two hands, so, that's too many,” Atsushi chides. It’s not always for a long time, but Akutagawa clearly never has enough energy to fight regularly. He’s seen him pass out, just for a few seconds, many times after using his ability for extended periods of time. “Also, you literally passed out when I got here.”

“I’m sick, in case you forgot,” Akutagawa grumbles.

“I thought you’re always sick,” Atsushi says, mocking how difficult he was being earlier. Akuatagwa just rolls his eyes, props his chin up on his palm and stares out the window, childishly pretending Atsushi isn’t there.

Atsushi opens a few cabinet drawers and doors looking for rice, surprised Akutagawa doesn’t try to wring his neck for going through his things, but he finally finds the rice. He takes the container out onto the counter.

“How’s rice sound?”

“Nauseating,” he answers, still staring out the window.

“Okay, well you have to eat something, Akutagawa,” Atsushi tells him with a half-pout. He wishes there was some way to help his nausea without him taking medicine, because he’s sure any of that would make him feel terrible on a completely empty stomach.

“Do as you wish,” Akutagawa huffs, repeating his earlier sentiment. Maybe he's realized that Atsushi won't back down.

Atsushi takes that, and decides to continue.

Akutagawa doesn't say a word to him for at least the twenty minutes while the rice is cooking. He stays on the chair for a while, listless and staring out the window, deep in thought. Atsushi wonders what he's thinking about, or what's ever on his mind in general, but he thinks that's something he'll never find out.

He disappears behind Atsushi's back once he's turned around and scooping the rice into a bowl. He sees he's gone and sat down on the couch, his eyes now on the TV screen instead of the window. They're still covering the weather. Atsushi suspects they'll probably be doing that through the night too.

Atsushi wanders into the living room with two bowls of rice and just sits with him and watches the news for a little while. It's kind of nice - calm, quiet. Akutagawa doesn't turn it up and neither does Atsushi, so at times the raindrops against the windows are louder than the weather reporting, but Atsushi doesn't mind it. He wishes Akutagawa had some sort of rice seasoning or chazuke packets laying around, but based on what he found in his kitchen, he gets the feeling that the latter never cooks at all. He thinks eating rice plain in solidarity with Akutagawa is fine in the end.

Akutagawa eats more of the rice than Atsushi expected him to, considering he hasn't eaten or taken medicine in days due to his nausea. Maybe he had been mistaking hunger pains from not eating for nausea. Atsushi decides he'll see how it goes, and if that's really the case, maybe he can take some medicine.

He's relieved at the idea that Akutagawa might be fine after all. He just needed a few simple things, just to be taken care of for a few hours.

The weather report starts to show aerial clips of Suribachi City. Atsushi's been through there several times in his time at the Agency, being it's an area of high crime that even the mafia seems to stay out of.

He'd never thought out how horribly prone to flooding the crater-shaped slums are, but it makes perfect sense. The reporter talks about how many of its inhabitants will be found in Yokohama during the storm to avoid drowning in the floods. They have nowhere else to go.

Akutagawa takes the remote, changes the channel to the next one down and hands it to Atsushi.

“Choose something else to watch,” Akutagawa tells him. Atsushi takes the remote, a little surprised by the sudden demand, but the look in his eyes is strange. It's not fear, is it?

“News not good enough for you anymore?” Atsushi says, testing to see if he's receptive to teasing, because even the tone of how voice is a little concerning.

“Are you enjoying watching homeless children drown?��� he bites back. It's not quite as mean as he usually is, more defensively, and a strange comment considering nothing of the sort was shown on screen. It was simply implied.

“Since when do you care about kids? You kill people,” Atsushi reminds him. He's really just teasing him, but he's never seen Akutagawa interact with a child other than Kyoka, and he wasn't good to her. “Or, used to.”

Akutagawa looks angry for a few seconds, like he's trying to figure out what to say, but it seems Atsushi's comments have left him speechless enough to decide against it. He just sighs and turns his head back towards the screen.

Atsushi thinks the entire interaction was strange. Akutagawa getting so defensive out of nowhere isn't like him. Atsushi at least knows what to avoid in conversation most of the time so he doesn't get choked out, but this time, he has no idea what set it off. Or, if he does, he doesn't know why.

He knows a lot less about Akutagawa than he thinks he does.

Akutagawa coughs into his hand a few times before he places his bowl of rice on the coffee table, chopsticks laying over the top of it, to then cough into his elbow. Atsushi gets up quickly and decides he'll get him a glass of water. He needs to start getting hydrated anyway. The dizziness and headache could certainly be lessened if it wasn't dehydrated.

Atsushi hands him a glass of water once the coughing dies down. Akutagawa is hesitant on taking it, looking like he's considering ignoring Atsushi's presence, but he gives in and takes the glass from him, only taking a few sips of it.

“You're aware my lung illness doesn't care if I'm hydrated or not,” Akutagawa mumbles, ignoring Atsushi's eye contact as he stands in front of him.

Atsushi's heart sinks a little, hearing him say that.

“Let me look at that wound again,” Atsushi decides, not wanting to start an argument on how Akutagawa should care for himself. It's a losing battle with how unbelievably stubborn he is. He takes the glass of water and sets it behind him on the coffee table.

He leans forward over Akutagawa, who doesn't resist, pulling down the neckline of the sweatshirt to reveal the bandage. Blood has seeped through it already, but not enough to stain the sweatshirt, it looks like. He lifts a knee up onto the couch to avoid awkwardly leaning over Akutagawa, trying to inspect the wound a little more closely as he peels the bandage back.

It looks okay. Not better by any means, but cleaner at least, from Atsushi's earlier work. He thinks this should be stitched up, but it's far too old to do that now - it would only trap the infection the way it is. He thinks right now all he can do is keep it clean and covered, but once Akutagawa is feeling a little better, he needs this looked at by a professional.

He wishes he could lend Akutagawa some of his self-healing. It would make his life so much easier.

“You're too close,” Akutagawa mumbles suddenly, and Atsushi realizes how close he really is.

He's almost straddling him. One knee leaned against the couch and the other propped up on the other side of Akutagawa’s leg, almost leaning against him. This would have been much easier to do from the other side of the couch, but he was already here.

Akutagawa doesn't do anything to push him away, but his cheeks are suddenly red.

“Right - sorry,” Atsushi stammers awkwardly, standing and backing up. “I'll be - right back. I think I just need to change the bandage.”

So he does just that. He takes some supplies out from the bathroom and leaves the basket on the counter, since he'll certainly need this again later.

Atsushi just sits beside him this time, taking off the bandage as carefully as he can. Akutagawa doesn't react to much of what he's doing, aside from when he tries to clean it up. He can feel him flinch and tense up, but he doesn't make any noise - just staring forward, even though he's paying no attention to the random channel he flipped to on the TV.

Atsushi looks up every now and then, just to peer at what he can see of his eyes, and he's deep in thought about something, so much so that Atsushi is worried he'll scare him if he suddenly speaks.

He wishes he knew what Akutagawa was thinking about.

As he finishes up the bandage, he eyes Akutagawa’s unfinished rice. He ate a fair amount of it, but not as much as Atsushi would have liked him to.

“You need to eat more than that,” Atsushi tells him after he pulls the collar of Akutagawa’s sweater back up over the new bandage. He thinks he'll have to change it every few hours or so. 

“Do you want me to vomit?” Akutagawa grumbles, using the armrest of the couch to force himself up, an action that seems to be rather painful. He's sore. He hopes that doesn't mean his stomach is already hurting.

“Does that mean you feel sick?” Atsushi asks him.

“I wish you would leave,” Akutagawa mumbles under his breath, not with any intention of hiding that sentiment from Atsushi. He thinks that's a yes, then, with how he's deflecting. His arms are crossed over his chest, very defensively, but Atsushi's at least glad to see he can stand on his own.

“I don't get all your back and forth. You let me bathe you and then you want me gone,” Atsushi huffs. Akutagawa has never made any sense to him. He can never tell what he's thinking or what he'll say next.

“You're only here because of Dazai, are you not?” Akutagawa says, walking towards his bedroom, “Tell him I'm alive and go home. He doesn't care how I'm doing beyond that. As long as - I can still use my ability.”

Atsushi can't see his face, but he can tell by the way his tone wavers that it hurts him to say out loud, like it's something he's only recently come to terms with.

“That's not -”

Akutagawa slams his bedroom door behind him with the help of Rashomon, as if it's helping him prove his point.

That can't be true. Dazai isn't like that. Sure, he did ask Atsushi to make sure Akutagawa wasn't dead and really didn't say anything beyond that, but it was because he hadn't heard from him in over a week, and he wanted to make sure he was okay before the storm came in. He doesn't think Dazai would be okay with Atsushi leaving as long as Akutagawa’s still breathing. He still needs help, he's not okay by himself.

Surely that doesn't have anything to do with the usefulness of Akutagawa’s ability.

As the sky gets darker, it brings on more thunder. He thinks the storm is starting to kick things into gear, and he changes the channel to confirm his suspicions. They talk about how the worst of it will come at around three in the morning, and they're still only at eight in the evening. He shivers at the thought of having to deal with the thunder all night.

He decides to force himself back into Akutagawa’s bedroom.

Akutagawa's sat up against his pillows with his comforter up over his knees, reading a book, of all things. He looks a little cold. Atsushi doesn't understand how he can read the words with how dim the light on his nightstand is, even with the pair of glasses he's suddenly wearing.

Akutagawa glares at him, and Atsushi stares back, but only because he can't stop thinking about the glasses. Does he think they look cute? Stupid? He doesn't know, but he's staring, and Akutagawa doesn't like it. The way he looks at him almost make it seem like he's taking it as a challenge, like a dog would.

“Glasses?” Atsushi just says.

Akutagawa tilts his head, confused at first. He rolls his eyes, visibly annoyed, before lifting his book back up. “I have terrible eyesight.”

“You do?” Atsushi says. That's new. He's never realized that. Does he wear contacts? Akutagawa doesn't seem like the time for that. Maybe he only needs them to see close up. Why does he even care?

“Must you always bother me? If you refuse to leave I'd rather not have to interact with you,” Akutagawa grumbles. Atsushi's realized over time that when he says stuff like this it doesn't sound genuine at all. Akutagawa thinks it does, that's what he's trying to put on, but Atsushi doesn't think he wants to be alone. But Atsushi doesn't have any idea how to call him out for it.

“Just shout if you need me, then,” Atsushi says, feigning indifference, nonchalance, he doesn't know, he just doesn't want Akutagawa to know it doesn't bother him.

“I will not,” Akutagawa says in some feeble attempt to defy him, but as if immediately struck down by karma, he suddenly groans from some intense pain, painful enough to make him drop his book and wrap an arm around his middle, painful enough to catch him off guard like that.

“Are you okay? Atsushi asks him, cautiously approaching the bed. “Is it your stomach?”

Akutagawa nods with a little noise of discomfort. He has a feeling this is a result of him eating, and he's got a lot more to be concerned about if Akutagawa throws up.

“Please just - leave me be,” Akutagawa groans quietly, his book already forgotten and off to the side as he doubles over, clearly in pain. Atsushi doesn't want to leave him. He is a little afraid of the backlash he'll face by ignoring him, but he thinks Akutagawa has other problems to worry about right now.

Atsushi wonders for a moment if maybe he has a heating pad somewhere that would help the pain a little bit, but Akutagawa derails any of Atsushi's mental plans to prevent him from getting sick when he gags.

Atsushi is fast enough to get the trash bin under his chin just as Akutagawa shifts to the edge of the bed, presumably to vomit on the floor to avoid the bed. He has his mouth covered and he's breathing fast and heavy, staring forward like he's too focused on avoiding throwing up to see Atsushi has the bin for him.

“Here, use this,” Atsushi tells him, fairly certain that whatever Akutagawa is trying to do to breathe around his nausea isn't going to work, and he's right. As soon as Akutagawa is aware of the bin, he coughs and retches, and a rush of vomit splatters into the thin bag.

It's not much at all, just a few bits of rice mixed in with saliva. Atsushi is fairly certain that there's blood there too, but he's not sure if it's a result of

his cough or how poor his health has been the past several days. He bites his lip, trying to stay as still as possible as he holds the bin.

He breathes heavy, shaky over the bin, strings of saliva caught on the sides, his lips shining from it. He spits to break them off and tucks the side piece of his hair that's facing Atsushi behind his ear. Atsushi holds his breath. That was weirdly attractive.

He groans quietly, gagging one more time over the bin, catching him off guard. Atsushi reaches over to lay a hand on his back to give him some comfort, but before he can, Akutagawa shifts himself back to the center of the bed to lie down, arms wrapped around his abdomen.

Atsushi sets the bin down on the floor, assuming he doesn't need it anymore, but he doesn't look any less nauseous.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Akutagawa grumbles. Atsushi didn't realize that he was making a face. “I'm not…a stranger to this.”

Atsushi feels his stomach sink. He knows that. This isn't even the first time he's seen Akutagawa throw up, but seeing him in so much pain and discomfort without much of a way to help him still makes him feel awful. Atsushi really wants him to see a doctor.

“I think you should -”

“I'm fine,” Akutagawa mumbles, now letting Atsushi even finish his suggestion, “let me sleep. I'll be fine.”

Atsushi doesn't believe him. He's still visibly nauseous. He thinks Akutagawa just wants him to leave to save him some embarrassment, but really, Atsushi has no real power over him there, as long as he's not actively throwing up right now.

Atsushi takes the comforter and shifts it around a little before laying it halfway over Akutagawa, who pulls it up closer to his shoulders. He doesn't say anything, doesn't ask Atsushi to leave or to do anything else, he just shuts his eyes and pretends he isn't there.

Atsushi supposes that's better than pushing him away.

…

Atsushi thinks it's around one in the morning when he hears Akutagawa's bathroom door shut.

He hopes for a few seconds that maybe he's just gone to use the bathroom, but the coughing and retching that follows is enough to get him off of the couch and headed that direction.

It's dark. It's probably midnight now, Akutagawa somehow slept for longer than expected, at least as far as Atsushi is aware. He left Akutagawa’s bedroom door open just enough for him to still hear anything, but even so, his enhanced hearing helps as a backup.

Unfortunately, though, it makes him extra sensitive to the thunder roaring overhead and the needle-like raindrops flying against the windows, too.

Atsushi sneaks into Akutagawa’s bedroom, peering through the first door and allowing the dim light from the living room to spill into the bedroom. Akutagawa isn't here, of course, he can still hear him coughing in the bathroom, but his sheets are strewn across the bed as a sign of a very restless sleep. The sweatpants he wore are tangled in the sheets, too.

He opens the bathroom door now, carefully, and flips on the light switch because it's far too dark for him to see anything right off the bat. Akutagawa is on his knees in front of the toilet, his forehead pressed against it for a moment before he lifts his head to hiccup, and gag unproductively into the bowl. He's just wearing the long sleeved shirt and a pair of boxers now. He must've gotten too hot and taken his sweatpants off.

“I don't need you in here,” Akutagawa grumbles, whipping his head to the side and attempting to glare at him, but the light is too much. He hisses through his teeth, like he didn't realize it was on to begin with, turns his head back and presses a hand up against his forehead.

“Does your head hurt?” Atsushi asks, his hand on the light switch.

“Turn them off,” he mumbles. “Please.”

Atsushi shivers as thunder roars over head just as he turns off the lights, and he swears he sees the same reaction from Akutagawa, barely lit by the plug-in light near the sink.

“I didn't know you knew how to say please,” Atsushi teases, trying to keep his voice quiet, now that he's aware of his returned headache - if it ever even left in the first place.

“Leave me alone, Weretiger. I don't need you to sit here and watch me vomit,” he mumbles back, his tone weak and desperate, almost, the bite from his tone completely gone now.

Atsushi's heart sinks. He sounds miserable. He really sounds like he's in a lot of pain, and Atsushi can see it, too. He moves and sits beside him, close enough to be useful but not too much in his space, and watches him wrap an arm tight around his stomach, groaning quietly from the pain. His skin is paler than before, in a harsher contrast against the dark circles under his eyes, and there's some shine against the sweat collecting on his forehead. He’s certain his fever isn’t any better.

“You don't wanna try taking anything for your stomach?” Atsushi asks, clicking his tongue. He knows anything Akutagawa swallows will just come right back up. There's injectable medications for nausea, but he doesn't exactly have those resources in this situation. He thinks Yosano would kill him if he even attempted asking her.

“There's something I have that -” he stops, his body tensing up sharply as his stomach cramps,  but his mouth stays closed through grit teeth and nothing seems to come up, “in the mirror…that can melt under my tongue.”

“The mirror?” Atsushi repeats, standing up and headed for the absurdly large sink counter where the mirror, three times the size of his own at home, stands. He didn't know such a medication existed, but Akutagawa certainly would, considering how often he's sick.

“Just press the corner of the left panel,” Akutagawa mumbles, laying his head against the porcelain with a shiver and a defeated sigh.

Atsushi does so very gingerly, not entirely sure what that will do, but the panel pops out at an angle, like a cabinet would. He takes the corner and opens it all the way, revealing six or seven shallow shelves filled to the brim with various medications. Most of which are in prescribed amber bottles.

Atsushi's stomach twists at the sight of all of them. He doesn’t think that even Yosano has this many in her in-house supply. They all have his name. Akutagawa Ryuunosuke. He catches sight of various dates, ranging from a month ago to two years ago, and so many medication names he doesn't recognize. Doxycycline, Azithromycin, Prednisolone, and dozens of others, some unfinished and some empty. There's over the counter stuff in here, too - Midol, Theraflu, extra strength Tylenol, and more - some of which he's never seen before.

“Which…one?” Atsushi asks, overwhelmed by what he's looking at. He had incorrectly assumed it would be easy to find.

“Zofran,” Akutagawa murmurs quietly. Atsushi can barely hear him. “Or…Ondansteron.”

Atsushi scans over his collection and finds it labeled under the second name, carefully removing it as not to knock over the others, one hand splayed out just in case they happened to fall. He’s tempted to make a joke about it to lighten up how he feels seeing this collection, but he doubts Akutagawa wants to hear any of that, being this sick or not.

“I need to sort through those,” Akutagawa mumbles when Atsushi kneels down next to him, crossing his legs just a foot or so away as he opens the box and pulls out the silver packing. “It’s…it’s not as much as it seems.”

Weirdly enough, Akutagawa seems to be saying that to make Atsushi feel better about it. He doesn’t think that it’s true, and that makes him feel worse.

Akutagawa twists up in pain again, breathing out a pained groan as his eyes screw shut. He shifts to gag over the toilet bowl, an arm still wrapped around his abdomen, but he still can’t bring anything up. Atsushi doubt he has much left anyway with how little he’s had to eat.

Akutagawa breathes heavy over the bowl, very visibly nauseous now, having trouble focusing, it seems like. Atsushi hears more thunder, louder than before, and Akutagawa shakes at the sound of it, this time, apparently not caring much to hide that fact from him right now.

Atsushi bites his lip. He scoots a little closer and lays a hand between his shoulder blades, surprised to not see him lash out considering how much he wanted him gone.

“I’d be surprised if you had anything left to throw up,” Atsushi says with a quiet sigh.

“I don’t think I do,” Akutagawa mumbles back, “that’s - the problem.”

Atsushi tries to shift his hand a little in attempt to rub his back, give him some comfort, but he fliches at the sudden movement and Atsushi takes his hand back. It’s strange, how he won’t allow this despite the fact that Atsushi bathed him not too many hours ago. Maybe the fever was subduing him. Maybe he’s a little more with it now.

That’s good, he thinks, but it means Akutagawa is pushing him away.

Akutagawa lays down on his side in front of the toilet, slowly. almost holding his breath. He wraps both arms around his middle with a quiet groan and almost relaxes on the floor. Atsushi would rather he realx in his bed, but he’ll let him rest here for a moment before he makes him move.

Atsushi's pained to see how battered Akutagawa’s thin legs are. There's awful scars of all shapes and sizes - Atsushi can pick out several from bullets, he's able to recognize those fairly easily. There’s newer injuries, too, as new as the one on his shoulder, but none nearly as bad.

He doesn’t often think about the kinds of things Akutagawa has suffered through. He’s sure bullet wounds are just the surface, even despite how long something like that must take to heal, and the nasty scars they leave behind. It’s no wonder Akutagawa’s body can hold up long anymore, illness or not.

“Do you wanna go ahead and take it?” Atsushi asks him quietly, trying to ignore how loud his own thoughts are. “You can lay here for a little to see if it works. But I don't think you should sleep here.”

Akutagawa lets out a quiet, defeated groan, and reaches a hand out to take the pill from Atsushi. He watches him take it, but he can’t use that to ignore what he’s thinking.

He doesn’t think he could ever convince Akutagawa to leave the mafia, but he’s worried he won’t survive through it much longer in his condition.

Why does he care, anyway?

[iloveacronix]

Sighhh. Dear mutuals. Please stop sending me smut fanfictions, ESPECIALLY the ILLUSTRATED ONES, when you know damn well I'm less than 18, know my SPECIFIC age, and KNOW I do not feel comfortable with smut.

I am VERY uncomfortable when you do this and you, as someone older than me, should know better. I do NOT care if you like the ship, I do NOT care if you think its good, I DONT WANT TO FUCKING READ IT, and I DONT WANT YOU SENDING ME LINKS TO THAT SHIT. I AM NOT INTO IT, BUT SOMETIMES IM CURIOUS AND IT DISGUSTS ME. LIKE COULD YOU NOT?? I do not mind if you mention the word it's not specific at ALL, but if you are going to fully talk about it DETAILED OUT shut up. I don't want to hear it. Don't want to read it. And I do not want to see it. Also don't have the crappy mindset where you think that suddenly because we're mutuals it means we're bestie best friends and you feel privileged to send me inappropriate shit, because that's not how it works. None of you, AND I MEAN NONE OF YOU, are "PriViLEgEd" to send me smut FICS or links, and it will never happen because im not looking forward to reading it. Don't use that excuse again. You know who you are.

So please. Stop. This is the third time. I don't care if you're a friend, if you send me smut FICS or links WITHOUT WARNING, I'm blocking you. I blocked two people already for it, I can do it many more times. Your bullshit only makes me feel more fucking tired and reluctant to make more online friends. So stop. When I say I'm a kid(not that young but still) on my bio, I'm serious. It doesn't matter if it's "just a written story and it's not a big deal," it is for me because it just shows me how much of a freak you are to have the audacity to show it to a minor THAT HAS ALREADY "SAID I DO NOT WANT TO READ SMUT."

Thank you. Good day.

[thevioletcaptain]

if you as a fic reader ever become possessed by the urge to do a popularity bracket with the fics other people wrote and shared for fun and for free, consider:

don't ❤️ 

[wienersmosh]

title: you're always holding onto stars ship: ian hecox/anthony padilla word count: 2,877 themes: love confessions, late night conversations, friendship, difficult choices rating: teen and up

[adutchlover]

How to Make a Nest

by wikiHow • Available on AO3

Co-authored by Max Verstappen and the wikiHow Team  References Download PDF

In This Article: ■ Making a Nest for Everyday Use ■ Preparing a Nest for Heat ■ Inviting a Partner into My Nest ■ Preparing a Nest During a Rut

A nest is easy to build; that’s what many omegas say. But do you know the secrets to building not just any nest, but the best nest of all? More than just a place to snuggle, a nest is your safe space. You set the rules and only accept who your inner omega wants around. It’s yours. And what better way to have a unique signature than with your own essence, right? Dear omega, here you will learn some tips on how to have what you need in your nest and still make it unique.

[famousinmyfandom]

If someone reads your fic and doesn’t even give a kudos, you should be able to ban them from ever reading it again lmao

[baileyboo2016]

Something for you :)

Lanayru yawned. He was getting more tired these days, but work still needed to be done out in the mines. Though it seemed he could procrastinate a bit longer, as he heard very familiar voices echo in the distance. “Ah, we’ve made it!” Link’s voice sounded ever closer and Lanayru saw both Link and the little one, Hyrule standing near.

“ZINGA-DINGDING! You’re back!” Lanayru called, chuckling deeply. “Come closer, we have much to talk about.”

Hyrule’s face visibly lit up and he rushed over, before he stopped. The size difference between the two was almost laughable but it didn’t matter to either of them. “Lanayru! It’s been awhile!” 

“Indeed it has, tiny one. Time passes by me, but not much has changed other than the tiny Hylians’ progress here on the Surface.” 

“How have you been though?” 

“Hmm…” Lanayru thought for a moment, trying to come up with a supple answer. “Well, I suppose. Ever since Link here—or Sky I think you call him—rescued me from a mighty bout of illness, I’ve never felt better.” 

Link beamed with the heart that could only belong to a kind, selfless hero. Hyrule sent a grateful and happy look to his friend before turning back to the old dragon. “And the mining and robots?” 

“All is well and good, tiny hero. You mustn’t worry about us. Now, tell me how you are faring. Is your quest being fulfilled?” 

“We’re still trying to chase down the Shadow. It  keeps fleeing from us when we get close to defeating it…but all of us are alive so, that has to count for something,”

“This Shadow you keep mentioning…” Lanayru brushed his large white beard. “How much do you know about it?” 

“It can take more than one form, it can be rather cowardly and its blade has some sort of effect that causes potions and fairies to have no effect on the victim.”

“Hmm…If I hear anything that could be of use to you I will tell you. Ah, but I have something rather unrelated.” 

“And that is?” 

“A gift, tiny one,” Lanayru laughed, the sound boisterous enough to shake the ground. “After all you’ve done I figured it would only be necessary. I cannot let your great deeds go unrewarded, hm?” 

Hyrule’s eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously. “No, I can’t accept anything…My great deeds aren’t as great as you make them out to be.”

“Nonsense. Can’t you let a dragon have his fun? You should at least be rewarded for your kindness. You have given me company that I could never have hoped for, and I want to properly thank you. So please, do not refuse my gift,” Lanayru hummed softly.

“…Alright.” 

Lanayru smiled and hurried off, scouring the desert for his gift and he found it. The device glowed as it touched his scaly hand and he hummed to himself, satisfied. Flying back in a rush he stooped down to the tiny hero and held out the device. “What is it?” Hyrule asked timidly.

“It’s a device I created for you, with the help of my robots of course. The device is imbued with a Time-shift Stone, and if you hold it up to something, it sends the area back in time to whatever state it was in originally. I figured since, you liked exploring, this was a way for you to find more entertainment out of such a task. 

But that is not its only purpose!! It can also act as a weapon if you’re in a pinch. If you press a certain button, it can act as a laser! Truly one of my best works I must say. Now, take it please.”

Hyrule took the device gingerly, an awed look in his brown eyes and he seemed quite grateful as he examined the small device. “I-thank you, Lanayru. Truly.”

“It is my pleasure. Now, I do believe that I should not be keeping you from your current mission. Though…if you have any spare time…”

Link smirked knowingly and Hyrule shook his head. “I have plenty of time! We’re taking a break before we start looking for black-blooded monsters to defeat and if there’s no time left to spare, Sky would tell us.”

“Well, then I will not encourage you to leave, tiny hero. In fact, I have something to show both of you.”

The two heroes climbed onto the palm of his hand and he flew slowly to a specific spot in the desert. There, a foundation had been built for a building. A project the dragon had commandeered. “What? What’s this?” Link asked.

“This is something I’ve been working on well you’ve been gone, with the guidance of the tiny girl one—Zelda I think she was named, though LD-568-09 would’ve suited her greatly.  She had the brilliant idea to make shelter for those who are brave enough to venture through the desert. The Hylian creatures have been ever so curious, wanting to explore the vast land and if they’re anything like you guys, I am happy to provide them any assistance they seek.”

“…Lanayru that’s amazing,” Link beamed as Hyrule gasped with awe and wonder lighting up his eyes.

“Ah, this wouldn’t have been possible without the tiny girl. She had the idea.”

“If we can help let us know!” Hyrule hummed. 

It amazed the old dragon how selfless these Hylian creatures are. It made the project feel all the more special. He grinned at the creatures on his palm and flew back to the entrance of the Lanayru Mining Facility. “Now, please, I have shared enough of myself and my doings. Inform me of yours, ZINGA-DINGDING!” 

He listened to the little Hylians chatter, describing their chase through dungeons and time to find the shapeshifting Shadow, and a close-encounter with death. He was content, even though the other dragons would probably tease him for it. 

I-

……

EEEEEEEEE OMG OMG OMG ITS LANAYRU AND RULIE OMG IM SCREAMING CRYING KICKIMG MY FEET RN THANK YOU SO MUCH SISJSJSJSJSJSSS 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I THINK….*MALFUNCTION*…I THINK YOU BROKE BAILEY UM-

[natjennie]

Heyyyyya. I was thinking of reading captain x havers fanfics. I’ve never read any 🫣 and I thought you would be a good source to tell me some good fanfic? 🙏🏼🙏🏼

Okie so this based off you posting about liking fics involving time loops a few weeks ago? I think???? Now I’m doubting it was even you 🫠 but looool.

Can I ask (prettttyyy pls) Where are the time loop fics at 👁️👅👁️

yeah the time loop post was me!! as far as I know no fics based around that exist (yet?) but there is a series called "what are men to rocks and mountains" where havers is a time traveler, which I think scratches a similar itch. as far as other cap/havers fics, I'll give you the same list I gave my friend @.dykebeckett a while ago which includes:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27044512 "if rome hadn’t fallen", havers fantasizes about what can never be

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26857282 "a soldier can sleep in any warzone", what if I never stopped crying. havers memories.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31028219 "Exercise in Wanting", the most tender 2k blowjob you’ve ever read

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27875726 "rabbits wrapped in velvet", cap and havers exchange christmas gifts. I sob inconsolably.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35163190 "someday, sweetheart", one of a handful where havers is a ghost that somehow gets to button house, but also it’s christmas and they’re sweet.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167254/chapters/70371735#workskin "I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted (ah, but I'm singing like a bird, 'bout it now)", button house hosts a wwii museum exhibit, cap thinks of havers

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46311469 "as no men love for long", what if havers was a wwi soldier who died and he ghost-ed during cap’s life? sure, why not!

there are a ton of great ones but those are a few that really stick out to me, personally. hope that helps!

[fabbyf1]

I always forget about ao3 functions. Literally only realised you could private bookmarks recently and I only found out you could view statistics like last week. What do you mean there’s a few hundred people subscribed to you and get silly little emails when you post? What a weird little site. But very funny to see other people’s reviews I’m sure the vast vast majority of yours are AMAZING. Long Live is a fic I’ve definitely read more than once- it’s amazing and yeah of course it’s not actual Charles. That’s kind of the thing about rpf, none of it is real. Go read a Leclerc biography and not a fanfic if that’s what you want 😭

"GO READ A LECLERC BIOGRAPHY AND NOT A FANFIC IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT" i'm fucking screaming. YOU ARE SO CORRECT.

that's the beauty of fanfiction, isn't it? i can make my character anything i want them to be. it can be "realistic" or it can be out of pocket or it can be a mixture of both. nobody can stop me in fanfiction. nobody can tell me how i'm "SUPPOSED" to write Charles, because... it's fucking fiction.

i'm not a reporter writing history.

i'm just a silly little fanfiction writer.

p.s. thank you for your kind words about long live, i'm so glad you enjoyed it 😭😭

[rat-father]

After nearly 160 comments, I've finally gotten a really sus one

This is a big milestone, but also, no, generic white girl name and random numbers, I don't want to chat with you in private

Doesn't quite seem like a bot (?) but definitely very sketchy

'I'm a concept artist' concept artist for what? And why do I care? What about my fic made you go 'yeah this person needs a concept artist'?

Also, the comment itself is odd. Nice, but feels like a generic script. They just saw the word 'crying' and commented on that to seem more real without regard for context

Sus af. Not sure what this is, don't care to find out, but my best guess is scam. Probably gonna say they want to draw a scene or smthing but they need a small payment or my email or some shit like that. Idk I'm spitballing here

No matter what it is, I don't trust it at all

[jasonsscar]

dreamless cravings

(click here to read on ao3)

Although Annabeth Chase hated admitting it, she was a hopeless romantic.

It was just so easy to be that. Especially when Percy Jackson, her boyfriend, her partner, her soulmate, was literally the definition of what a hopeless romantic should fall for. He was sarcastic, funny, smart, and handsome (so fucking handsome). It killed Annabeth nearly everytime that she looked at him and half the time whenever she met his eyes that were seagreen she swears up and down her breath feels like it’s stolen right out of her lungs. He was perfect, so perfect.

And she missed him so much.

Annabeth could barely keep her eyes open as she sat on the beach near Camp Half-Blood. She was exhausted. All she wanted was a second alone to clear her head but for the past four months the only thing that she could bring herself to focus on was trying not to forget his voice, his smile, his laugh. The ocean waves were the closest she would get to remembering him because he always smelled like the ocean and if Annabeth closed her eyes and was exhausted enough, she could swear she could almost feel him sitting right beside her and wrapping his arms around her.

Annabeth didn’t realize her eyes were fluttering closed until she opened them and saw Piper McLean kneeled in front of her, her choppy brown hair falling around her face and her kaleidoscope eyes being stupidly mesmerizing as usual.

“Hey,” Piper said softly. There was a soothing nature to her voice and Annabeth knew she was using her charmspeak abilities only subtly and Annabeth couldn’t even complain because it felt nice to be washed over with her voice. It distracted her. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

Camp was bathed in golden light from the late afternoon sun. It was the time of day when everything at camp had slowed down and it was quiet. It was the time of day that she could always find Percy just relaxing by the water, knowing Annabeth would find him in some way or another. It was the reason she found herself near the water so often now, she hoped that maybe one day he’ll just appear again and the roles would be reversed and he would find her near the water instead.

At the entrance to her cabin, Annabeth stopped abruptly, making Piper nearly trip.

“Annie?” Piper asked.

“I don’t want to go to bed,” Annabeth mumbled and she rubbed her eyes. “And don’t charmspeak me into doing it.”

She heard Piper inhale.

Annabeth sat herself down on the steps of cabin six and lowered her head into her hands, resting against her knees. She could hear the creak of the steps as Piper moved to sit beside her, resting her head against Annabeth in that comforting way she always did whenever Annabeth got like this.

Annabeth didn’t realize she was crying until she sniffled. Piper gently hugged Annabeth’s arm when she heard that but she said nothing. She had already comforted her so many times but no words truly comforted Annabeth. No, she wouldn’t be okay until she saw him again and knew he was okay.

That boat couldn’t be finished fast enough.

“I’m so scared,” Annabeth finally whispered, her voice broken. “I miss him.”

Piper moved her head, pressing her lips against the blonde girl’s shoulder. “I know,” she mumbled. “I know you do.”

Annabeth picked up her head, the cool April wind that was blowing through camp making her wet face feel cold for a second. She felt Piper pick her head up and she felt her gaze fall onto her as Annabeth stared out at the campgrounds. Some demigods were out and about still, girls in their cliques giggling and gossiping and boys… being boys.

“You’re gonna like him,” Annabeth said as she gently wiped her tears away. It wasn’t the first time she’s told Piper that and sometimes Annabeth wonders if she’s hyping up her boyfriend too much but no… no, that wasn’t even possible.

“I better,” Piper said lightly and it made Annabeth smile just a bit. “We’re doing all this for him so if I hate him I’m gonna be pissed.”

“You can hate him too if you want,” Annabeth said and rested her head against Piper’s shoulder, the daughter of Aphrodite wrapping her arm around Annabeth, again, in that comforting way that Annabeth had grown fond of. “I think I’m gonna kick his butt when I see him again. How dare he get kidnapped.”

Piper laughed. “I’ll pay to be first in line to see that.”

“I’ll give you a best friend discount,” Annabeth mumbled as she let her eyes flutter closed now, Piper’s arm around her and her voice enough to soothe the daughter of Athena. “You must be sick of me talking about him.”

“I think I’m far worse about Jason,” Piper sighed.

“Nah,” Annabeth smiled softly. “I like hearing you talk about him. That’s what best friends are for anyway. Talking about boys and stuff.”

She could hear the smile in Piper’s voice when she asked. “Best friends? I’m your best friend?”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Annabeth whispered. She was falling asleep. This also wasn’t the first time. “You always take care of me.”

Annabeth felt Piper gently brush the blonde hair that had fallen out of Annabeth’s ponytail and into her face behind her ear as Annabeth fully drifted off now, Piper’s soft whisper of “That’s what best friends are for” being the last thing she heard before she fell into another dreamless sleep with a heavy heart.

[unreadpoppy]

i just realized that if even if AO3 tells you "you already gave kudos to this work" the author will receive the notification

[kitklone]

Brother in Need (Firelight to the Rescue!) Ch. 1

ao3 link (see for tags and notes!) Summary: Amidst the illuminated streets of Nueva York, Miguel and Gabriel's evening stroll takes an unexpected turn when they engage in a heartfelt conversation, prompting Gabriel to contemplate a daring proposition.

Warnings: Spoilers for Spider-Man 2099 (1992), Suicidal themes

It was a relatively peaceful evening in the upper city, a rare break from the usual hustle and bustle of Nueva York. The soft glow of streetlights and the illumination from surrounding buildings created an artificial dusk, obscuring the natural night sky. Miguel and Gabriel were making their way back home after visiting their mother, who had once again found herself in the hospital despite being in relatively healthy condition, prompting her sons to pay her a visit. These kinds of hospital visits have become a routine they'd grown accustomed to. Today, Gabriel had decided to accompany his brother on the way to his apartment.

“Can I ask you something?” Miguel's voice broke the silence as he walked a step behind Gabriel.

"Huh? Yeah, sure, I guess," Gabriel replied, still walking. As he talked, he slightly tilted his head in his brother's direction while his gaze remained fixed on his path.

Miguel’s words carried a hint of hesitation as he finally asked, "Why do you still talk to me?"

Gabriel responded with a casual shrug and kicked an empty can that lay in his path. “’Cause you’re family-”

“But why?” Miguel cut him off abruptly. “I’m a dick- I don’t listen to you, I ignore your calls- I’m a terrible brother… why the shock do you still care?”

Gabriel, with no intention of contradicting his brother's self-deprecating statements, instead leaned into the narrative.

"…aaaand you engaged my girlfriend after cheating with her on your first girlfriend. You also managed to become my current girlfriend's number one crush, you're an absolute pro at ignoring Mom's calls, oh and..."

He blabbered on, listing more and more examples reinforcing Miguel's self-deprecation. Gabriel maintained a mocking, unserious tone throughout, as if thoroughly entertained by his brother's shortcomings. Each point was emphasized with a nod or a chuckle, as if he'd had enough of Miguel's self-pity and was resorting to a different strategy. His gaze fixed on his hands he raised a new finger for each new point, as if relishing the opportunity to emphasize how horrible a brother Miguel was.

Miguel let out a sigh and facepalmed in exasperation, coming to a halt. His reaction prompted Gabriel to stop in his tracks as well.

“Oh my god. See what I mean?” He muttered, shaking his head, briefly rubbing his temples before he continued. “Why do you forgive me for all this?!”

Gabriel turned to face his brother.

“I don’t”

His response was blunt and straightforward, his gaze never leaving Miguel's eyes. Miguel paused, his face displaying a mix of disbelief and frustration.

“… what?” He said as he stopped rubbing his temples for a moment. “The shock you mean you don’t?”

“You’ve said it yourself. Because you’re a dick.”

Miguel stared at his younger brother, dumbfounded. Confusion and frustration etched across his face as he tried to make sense of Gabriel's unexpected agreement.

“But then why do you remain in contact with me? Care about me? How… you’re not making any shockin’ sense, Gabe!” Miguel voiced his bewilderment.

Silene hung in the air between them. Gabriel withdrew his gaze, burying his face in his hands, and let out a sharp exhale.

“Just shut up already, will you?!” Gabriel suddenly yelled out, his frustration boiling over.

He turned to face Miguel again, his hands, which his face was buried in just a second ago, curling up tensely in front of him from the frustration.

“It doesn’t matter ‘cause you’re my shockin’ brother!” He continued as he grabbed Miguel by his shoulders and rattled him before letting go and shifting his gaze to the ground.

"Well—my biological 'half' brother… technically…" he muttered. "…But that shouldn’t matter cause…" Gabriel returned his attention to Miguel, maintaining eye contact, his voice beginning to tremble.

"We still grew up together Miggy... you were the one who was there for me, protected and held me when things were dire between mom and dad, you... you!— “ He stopped as he struggled to find the right words to express his feelings.

Miguel met Gabriel's gaze with remorse and sadness painted on his face. He took a deep breath and began rubbing his forehead.

“Look I’m… sorry. I didn’t realize everything I was putting you through. I just…“

Miguel's voice wavered as he inhaled deeply, then looked at his brother.

“… I don’t want to be like this anymore. I don’t want to always be so shocking… selfish.”

Gabriel interjected, a little frustration remaining in his tone. "I know you do.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Miguel responded, his curiosity piqued.

“No mames, dude! You’ve been running around in a costume riskin’ your neck out for others including me. I don’t recall the last time you’ve ever acted this… selfless… there’s obviously something inside you that’s changed… or wants to change…”

Miguel nodded slowly in response, thinking over his brother’s words.

“You got me there, Gabe. I…. want to be better…. But quite frankly, I don’t know how.”

Miguel paused. He hesitated, his fingers nervously tapping against his thigh as he struggled with whether to share what was burdening him. This wasn't something he'd ever discussed openly. He was more accustomed to keeping his emotions locked away. But seeing the concern in Gabriel's eyes, his brother's insistence to break through the walls he had built, made him reconsider.

 “While we’re already on the topic… Can I tell you something?” Miguel finally managed to force the words out.

Gabriel nodded encouragingly, a sense of understanding in his eyes.

Miguel paused again, the discomfort of revealing his inner turmoil evident in his furrowed brow.

“...¿sabes por qué lo que hago? The reason I’m Spider-Man?”

Gabriel shrugged, displaying his curiosity.

Miguel hesitated for a moment, his gaze resting on his younger brother. With a sigh, he decided to take the plunge.

"...I don't enjoy being Spider-Man. ¡Ahí lo tienes, lo dije!" Miguel admitted before biting his lip, anxiously awaiting his brother's reaction.

"I mean, I get it, yo tampoco lo haría. Sounds tough and all," Gabriel replied, trying to understand.

Miguel shook his head.

“No-” he clicked his tongue in annoyance, “no that’s not what I mean… I mean I don’t like the superhero stuff at all.”

He sighed again, realizing how unpleasant it felt to voice his inner turmoil.

“I don’t like… saving people… or stopping villains. I don’t like doing what’s right. I don’t like helping people who are helpless.”

His voice began to break and crack slightly as he spoke.

“…I just hate myself. I hate my life. Odio lo miserable que se siente.”

Gabriel remained silent, not knowing how to respond. He withdrew slightly from his brother as he tried to process this revelation.

Miguel sighed once more, the weight on his chest feeling unbearable.

“I know it sounds so- so stupid. I know it does. But this has been killing me… I just…”

He rubbed his eyes, his head throbbing with emotion.

“I’m just so… I don’t like being Spider-Man. I don’t want to be Spider-Man. I don’t want to be your goddamn half-brother. I don’t want Tyler Stone’s shocking blood running through me. I don’t want to be anything. I just want to be nothing.”

Gabriel noticed his older brother’s eyes watering, shifting his head away in an attempt to hide it. Surprise rose within him. It’s been years since Gabriel had seen his brother in a state this vulnerable. Did he actually manage to get him to open up?

Suddenly, Miguel felt something pressing against him tightly. He realized that Gabriel had wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace, his face buried in Miguel's shoulder in silence. Miguel's eyes widened in response, tears silently falling from his eyes as he was taken aback by his brother's reaction. Uncertain of how to respond, he simply looked down, letting the hug happen.

Gradually, Miguel sensed Gabriel's body tensing up in pulses. Was he crying too now? Gabriel had always been the more sensitive and empathetic of the two, so Miguel didn't question it. Instead, he looked down at his younger brother, realizing that he didn't feel as alone anymore. He closed his eyes and finally returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around his brother tightly.

He didn't want to let go. He closed his eyes as tightly as he could and started quietly sobbing, the weight of the past few months finally catching up to him all at once. He sobbed into Gabriel's shoulder, allowing himself to let go and release the pent-up emotions he had been carrying.

Eventually, they let go of each other. Miguel looked down at his brother and sniffled.

“Ugh I know… it was stupid. I just…”

He wiped the tears from his eyes and sighed.

“I’m so tired of everything. I’m tired of people depending on me every second of the day. I’m tired of being needed. I just… I just want a break. I want to not do anything for anyone for once.”

His head turned, letting out a frustrated grunt that displayed his annoyance towards himself. His face contorted with self-disgust, one corner of his upper lip curling upward in a sneer.

"Despite all… this,” He gestured towards himself and then Gabriel, suggesting he was referring to their exchange, “you still think I'm a horrible person, don't you?"

"Maybe I could take over for Spider-Man every once in a while," Gabriel followed up, once again evading his brother's self-deprecating remarks. He said it in a somewhat joking manner, but beneath the humor, there was a hint of genuine consideration. He buried his hands deep in his coat's pockets, inadvertently making himself appear smaller, and shrugged.

Miguel looked him up and down with a stern expression before letting a dark chuckle escape him.

"You? 'Taking over for Spider-Man'?" He repeated his brother's words in a mocking tone. "Deja de mamar." He shook his head. "You couldn't handle the pressure, Gabe." He continued with a condescending tone. "Shock, you couldn't even handle growing up without me. How did you think you could handle being Spider-Man? No, you couldn't. I'm sorry, but you can't."

Miguel's repetitive words made it clear he still saw his brother as the young, and impressionable kid who had stayed behind with their mother while he spent majority of his teen years studying to eventually work at Alchemax.

“How would you feel if you were the reason someone died? Would you be able to handle that?” Miguel's anger flared. He aggressively closed the distance between them before jabbing his finger at his chest. His breath came out in short, sharp puffs, his eyes flickered with a fiery red tint as the streetlamps reflected in them. His fangs were more pronounced than ever as his upper lip curled up in anger.

Gabriel was taken aback by Miguel's sudden aggression. He instinctively stepped back, creating a bit of space between them in an effort to defuse the escalating tension, but also due to his intimidation. His initial surprise was quickly replaced by frustration at how condescendingly he was treated though. His brows furrowed, and he exhaled sharply as he stared Miguel down.

“And what makes you think I’d be able to handle you dying in battle?” He finally retorted in a less intimidated but rather upset tone.

Miguel raised an eyebrow in surprise of his brother’s reaction before shaking his head.

“Who cares if I die, Gabe? As bad as that sounds, and I know it sounds horrible, I don’t care about what happens to me.” His voice was cold. “I’ve already put people close to me through hell. I have no friends, I’ve failed my family and my fiancée not to mention I’m a genetic abomination… what more is there left for me to do here.” His voice cracked at the last part.

Gabriel gritted his teeth angrily. “You just don’t get it, do you.”

"No, I don't think you understand," he snapped angrily into Gabriel's face before tilting his head to the side again, much like he had done earlier, trying to hide his teary eyes.

"I don't think you really understand how miserable I am here, and how much better off everyone would be if I..." He turned away completely before he could finish the last sentence.

"IF YOU WHAT, GOT OFF AND KILLED YOURSELF?!" Gabriel suddenly shouted, Miguel's body tensing in response as he was taken aback witnessing his normally sensitive brother lash out at him like this. The weight of both of their words hung heavily in the air.

“Yes.” Miguel simply muttered in response, still turned away from his brother, his temper starting to fade now as he sighed. “I didn’t want to admit it but… yes.” He turned his head slightly to the side, his gaze still fixed on the ground. "I don't want to be here anymore. I'm done doing the superhero gig, and I'm done being anyone's son or... brother. I'm just done." He shrugged.

Gabriel remained standing there, still dumbfounded.

"You were right, you really are a cabrón egoísta."

Miguel let out a dark laugh, his voice raised this time. He turned back to his brother entirely, crossing his arms and straightening his back, causing him to loom over his slouching brother as he met his eyes.

"And what are you going to do about it, huh?"

Gabriel's breath was stuck in his throat, unable to follow up on his brother's last question.

“I-“

“That’s what I thought. Nothing.”

Miguel looked down and sighed, his head beginning to pound again. The silence between them was deafening. Neither of them spoke up for a while until Miguel asked, “What do you even see in me?”

“Can you just shockin’ quit questioning everything... It's tiring…” Gabriel muttered in response, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the ground as he refused to look his brother in the eyes after what he’d just confessed.

Miguel sighed and kept looking at his brother. “Fine.” He looked up, glancing around before continuing “Let’s just… keep going now… I need something for this stupid migraine… or maybe a drink.” He laughed bitterly.

Gabriel simply nodded with a blank expression.

“Alright.” Miguel said as he began walking in the direction of his apartment, not looking behind him to check whether his brother was following him or not as Gabriel buried his hands back into his coat’s pockets and followed up behind him.

As they continued walking, now in silence, Gabriel was lost deep in thought. There was no way he'd let his brother destroy himself like this, not on his watch.