#in other words Extremely Normal™️

[subtle-as-an-earthquake]

I nod along attentively, but the truth is, I can't concentrate

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 18 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: everything you need to know about the woman with no name.

words: 6.4k

chapter warning: heavy chapter warnings for s-lf h-rm/ s--cide. Read at your own risk.

series warnings: mob-typical bang bang violence, wh-mp. hurt/comfort. s-xu-l situations. spousal ab-se. family trauma. dr-g use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you never laid awake at night in a cold sweat, afraid the FBI was going to break down your door because you downloaded a Metallica song on Kaazaa, then well, wait was it just me? oh. okay then. minors dni.

Back to Part 17.

Part 18

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5),1 defines dissociation as a disruption, interruption, and/or discontinuity of the normal, subjective integration of behavior, memory, identity, consciousness, emotion, perception, body representation, and motor control.

This was another dream.

She was dreaming again.

The DSM-5 dissociative disorders (DD) are:

Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID);

Dissociative Amnesia (DA);*

Depersonalization/Derealization Disorder (DPDRD);

Other Specified Dissociative Disorders (OSDD);

Unspecified Dissociative Disorder (UDD).

She was having an out-of-body experience. Like astral projection. Everything she saw through her own eyes were the actions of someone she was ghosting over. 

Her life wasn’t happening to her. 

She was dreaming. 

Having a really bad dream.

*In DSM-5 Dissociative Fugue (DF) is now a subtype of Dissociative Amnesia (DA), and not a separate disorder.

That’s what she kept telling herself.

This is a nightmare. It’s only a nightmare.

This is a nightmare.

This can’t be happening. Can’t be real.

The DSM-5 diagnostic criteria for Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) now include a Dissociative Subtype (PTSD-DS). Dissociative amnesia as a symptom is a diagnostic criterion for both DID and for PTSD. Criteria for PTSD-DS are that reminders of the PTSD Criterion: A traumatic stressor lead to depersonalization/derealization symptoms. In DSM-5, the DD section is specifically placed after the Trauma-and-Stressor Related Disorders to show their relationship to traumatic experiences. 1

She was calm.

Heart steady.

She wasn’t sweating this time. Wasn’t pissing herself.

Why would she? This was all a dream.

A strange dream—with John and Peter looking at her like she was a sight for sore eyes. They both wore a smirk. Both of them sharing a secret.

And Felicia was there. And Eddie was there. Johnny Storm, too. Miguel was there—magically reanimated.

What a strange dream. Who else was going to make an appearance? Jesus? Her third-grade teacher? Tod?

None of that really mattered, though. Nothing really mattered. So much so, she wouldn’t even remember what happened next.

How surprising was it, then, to wake up standing in the middle of Peter’s office. Felicia and Eddie lingered near the doorway. Peter stood across from her, eyes wide and alert. 

He was speaking to her. Muddled words. It really looked like she should be listening. 

But how did she get here?

Oh well. It didn’t matter.

This is a dream. Nothing can hurt you in a dream. Even if you die, you don’t really die. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was fine.

Her fingers were cold, though, wrapped around cold metal. Black as night. She was holding a gun. How strange.

Peter was standing at the barrel end of it. The pistol that had been hidden in his desk. Her finger was on the trigger. Hand shaking.

“Honey,” Peter's voice echoed against her eardrum. He sounded far away. He sounded like he was inside her head.  “Please, just talk to me.”

Suddenly, she was awake. 

Her heart sped up, eyes focusing sharply as the color drained from them, swallowed up by the black holes of her pupils. She took deep breaths through flared nostrils. Cold perspiration trickled down the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. 

She stood with her back to the office windows. Blinding daylight drenching the horrified expressions of the people surrounding her. Boxing her in. Closing a gap around her. Locking her into a trap.

That wasn’t going to work. She had the key in her hands. She had the key to it all.

“Honey,” Peter repeated, his voice featherlike yet full of terror. He fixed her with wide eyes, hands up at his shoulders to placate her. He inched closer.

“Stay back!” she barked, eyes feral. She suddenly noticed the tears on her face. Goddamn it, she’s crying again. When did that happen?

“It’s me, baby,” Peter cooed at her. “Jus’ me—”

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice cracking with the force of thunder. It was a wretched, vicious sound. “Who the fuck are you, really?” 

He blinked in confusion, reeling in a step backward. Too far to reach for her. Her eyes darted frantically, searching the faces of Felicia and Eddie. Searching for danger. Searching for safety. Searching for any way out. 

John wasn’t in the room. He could be hiding around the corner for all she knew. Hiding in her closet or under her bed.

Her lower lip wobbled. There wasn’t a way out. 

Her heart wrenched in her chest. “Why did you pick me?” she desperately whimpered, returning to Peter. “Why are you doing this to me?” 

Her voice was small and fragile, like a sugar glass figurine. Blinking rapidly, he furrowed his eyebrows, staring at her in confusion. 

“Okay, Honeybun,” Felicia chimed in, singsong. “Let’s all just calm down, shall we?”

Honey jerked her arm, pointing the gun at Felicia. She shrieked, jabbing her with each word, “I wasn’t talking to you, you lying bitch!”

Felicia raised one of her brows and muttered barely above her breath, “Not with that tone, you’re not…”

“Cat,” she heard Peter gently admonish, a warning in his tone. 

Slowly, he took another step towards the gun, mapping the distance between him and the bullet's path. Honey responded to the subtle movement like the cracking of a whip. In an instant, she was back on him, her watery glare and shaky aim directed at his chest.

“Is Miles in on this too?” she wept breathlessly, rage filling her lungs and suffocating any sense of trust. “Is Bella already dead? Did you fucking hurt her? Tell me the goddamn truth, Peter!”

Peter shook his head, exasperated. “What—I-I don’t—what are you—?”

She cut his sentence short. “I saw what you did to that woman!”

Peter froze. Eyes wide, lips parting.

Fury surged through her, bulging her veins and twitching her muscles. 

“You asshole—you fucking tell me that you love me, that there’s no one else, and you had that fucking stripper-whore all over you!” 

His jaw locked, eyes filling with remorse. Voice dropped to a whisper. “I can explain—”

“And then you murdered her!” she spat, words burning like acid. “You mutilated her! You fucking monster!” 

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Sharp crimson splatters and deep umber stains replaced it like frames of a snuff film on celluloid.

“Dumped her body like a used condom, you motherfucker!” 

He lifted his chin, shame shadowing his face. His expression was as good as a confession in her eyes. 

“Is that what you were gonna do to me?” she hotly demanded.

Peter grimaced at the question like she’d already fired the bullet. Finally, desperation overtook him as he opened his mouth to speak.

Eddie blurted out, “That ain't how it happened—”

Peter shot a warning glare over at him, face turning pale. Eddie bit his tongue, but the damage was done. Angry eyes were now fixed on him, their black holes threatening to tear them all apart. 

“You knew about this?” she hissed, horror spreading across her face. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?” She was vibrating with self-righteous rage, her features melting into a vicious sob.

Eddie buttoned up his lips, helpless against her betrayed expression.

Jaw agape, Felicia shot a frustrated glare at both men. “Jesus Christ.”

“I know what it looks like,” Peter cut in, desperate to regain her attention and refocus her wrath on him alone. “But he’s tellin’ the truth, okay? You’re right, you're right, but that’s not how it went down. I swear it, I-I don’t remember—I-I didn’t even know what happened—”

“You know everything, Peter, you always know everything!” the heartbroken woman sneered lividly, mocking him. “You know everything about me, doncha? What’d he tell you? Huh? Did you already know I was married?”

The room fell silent. Peter gazed at her, a crease painted between his brows. He glanced at Felicia, who mirrored his expression, before turning back. “I… didn’t.” 

“You didn’t, huh?” she seethed, her anger simmering with anguish and shame. “You couldn’t find the marriage certificate? You wanna know why?” 

He stared at her, blinking. Jaw opening and closing. 

“Because I forged my sister’s signature and stole the savings in her bank account! I used it to pay off an old creep at the county clerk’s office!” She hissed with a twisted mouth, as if the words tasted rancid on her tongue, “Five grand and a blow job were all it took to erase the shittiest mistake of my life.”

Peter stared with eyes like saucers. Despite his desperate attempt to keep his face neutral, he reflected silent shock.

“I was high when I met John,” Honey added, her voice trembling. This time, she leveled her contempt toward Eddie. “Did he tell you that, too?” She pictured every sentence as a knife wound. Each punctuation was a twist of the blade. 

“Stole two of my mom’s Xanaxs,” she hiccuped, swallowing her sobs in an effort to force out the words. “Let him fuck me in the back seat of his car with a camera in my face. He came in my mouth, and I cried on camera, and I told him I wanted to kill myself and asked him to murder my mother.” 

The words spilled out of her in a frantic blather, vile puss spewing from old wounds. “I used to sneak into the kitchen at night, turn on the gas, and think about blowing up my family. Me. My little sisters. I didn’t care! Did he tell you about that?!”

Peter’s eyes shimmered with tears. Opening his mouth felt like prying apart steel. Despite that, he kept his words gentle. “Honey. Whatever happened, we can talk it out—”

She blurted out a livid laugh, hot tears running down her cheeks. “Oh, you wanna talk to me?” She pointed her finger, jabbing it at the doorway. “Talk to him!” Felicia and Eddie glanced at the door, both of them perplexed. “Let him tell you how he used to get drunk and pass me around to all his friends like a fucking Fleshlight!” 

Peter flinched at the noise her voice made, cracking like glass. Her lip wobbled as she fixed him with giant, horrified eyes. She looked as if a sudden realization struck her.

“Is that what you were gonna do to me?” she cried in a tiny voice. “Were you two gonna share me after you fucked with me? Was that the plan all along?”

His face was clouded with bewildered horror. 

Conversely, her vision was crystal-clear. Everything suddenly made sense to her. She didn’t know how he did it, but she knew. 

John and Peter were working together. They were always working together. She had never escaped either of them.

John knew where her apartment was. Peter did too.

John was waiting outside of her mother’s home. Peter was waiting inside.

Peter kidnapped her whole family. He held Bella hostage. John knew where to find them.

John had pictures of Bella. He had pictures of Gabriella. 

Peter had pictures of her, too.

John was Peter. Peter was John.

She was stupid. Stupid, stupid girl.

“Nothing is free!” she was muttering aimlessly, babbling without realizing it. Giant sobs racked through her. “Nothing is safe! Can’t trust anyone—they’ll do anything they need to to survive. That’s what I did! I survived!” 

“Please,” Peter’s voice cut through, recapturing her attention. “Please, please, baby.” His eyes shimmered with desperation. “You got this all wrong. I don’t know—I-I-I never meant to hurt you like this. I swear.”

She shook her head, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. “Were you lying to me about Gwen, too, you fucking bastard? She didn’t fall, did she?”

“Honey—”

“Did she?!”

“She jumped!” Peter yelped, his heart shattering as the words escaped his throat.

The gasp that followed seemed to reverberate off the walls. It was as if every sound in New York went quiet. A blaring, piercing silence that made eardrums ache. Peter looked devastated, on the verge of collapse. She settled her stern gaze on him, watching his face crumple. He brought his hands up through his hair, tugging his scalp hard enough to tear. He bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming.

Gobsmacked stares from the other side of the room confirmed that this was a piece of information that no one had. 

Looking stoic and shattered, he sucked a big breath in and out, keeping his jaw firm. Wiped at his nose. Dug his fingers into his hips. 

“I didn’t want this life for her,” he finally muttered, silent tears flowing. “She was a smart woman. Smarter than me. She was supposed to do something—something amazing with her life. She wanted to help people.” He swallowed hard, apparitions playing in his gaze. “The fear. The violence. It took a toll. She tucked it away inside. Never let it show.”

He gulped, running a hand down his face to clear his watery eyes. “They, uh, came after us, and-and she killed someone. She had to. I tried to tell her that but... she never was the same. Somethin’… somethin’ ate her alive. From the inside out.” 

His brows furrowed, heartache seizing his expression. “I didn’t see it.” He sounded like a wounded animal. In many ways, he was. “I didn’t see what it was doing to her. Not until it was too late.”

He went quiet. The tears that rimmed his eyes flowed free. He marinated in agony and self-resentment. His voice was calm with resolve. 

“I destroyed her,” he said. “And I’ll never forgive myself for that.” He lifted his heavy eyes. “I don’t know how else to say it to you. But I’d rather die before I let that happen again. So if you’re gonna shoot one of us, shoot me.” They locked gazes with each other, his eyes swelling with tears. “I’ve had it comin’ for a long time.”

Her arm was beginning to shake from the weight of the weapon. 

His doe eyes fixed on her. She couldn’t read them anymore. Too afraid of the next chapter. Too weary for the following sentence.

But none of that mattered anymore. Because this was all just a dream.

“Maybe she had the right idea,” Honey whispered, her lip wobbling. She closed her eyes. Put the gun to her own head.

The sound of the gunshot deafened her, swallowed up by an unholy roar. 

She didn’t expect the falling sensation. She was expecting pain—maybe. She was expecting a tunnel or a big white light. Or maybe for it all to go pitch black. Maybe she was expecting nothing at all.

But she was falling backward unexpectedly. The gun tumbled from her reach. Tentacles wrapped around her arms, oily, cold, and slick. Like a primordial monster out of the ocean depths. 

They encircled her entire body. Constricting around her waist. Wrapped around her throat. Locking her ankles in place. 

When she looked up, Hell wasn’t what she expected. She didn’t expect the Devil to have oozing, inky, onyx flesh. Or dead white eyes that wrapped around its skull. She expected horns. But not a mouth the size of a Great White’s with twice as many teeth.

Certainly, not that tongue. Twisting. Dripping. Like a black serpent slithering from his mouth.

“Pete, no!” 

Eddie was here too. How did Eddie get here? 

Then, she felt the pain.

The still-healing crack in her bone buckled as her ribcage was compressed. She thought her pelvis would be next as the tentacle's heavy, crushing, constricting force closed around her hips and waist. Another thick mass squeezed her throat. The air was being forced from her lungs as the ooze gripped tighter.

“What the fuck is that?”

Felicia. She sounded surprised. She sounded terrified. 

Honey was terrified too. Opened her mouth wide to scream. But she couldn’t. No air. She couldn’t breathe. All she could do was gaze up at that horrifying Cheshire smile as it grew wider. The monster loomed larger. It was getting bigger. Towering over her.

It would be over soon, she hoped. 

“Pete!” Eddie again. 

This time, the beast let go.

She was tossed backward, flung through the air, landing hard against the side of the desk. After taking a deep, painful gasp, she fine-tuned her attention to what was happening in real-time.

A steel blade glinted in Felicia’s hand as she buried it deep into the black tentacle of the monster beneath her. 

Miguel was in the room now, keeping himself from being dragged off by the creature with repeated jabs into its flesh. He flexed his wrist, and a set of razor-sharp blades, curved like talons, retracted from a device mounted on his forearm. He hit the monster with the spines of his arm guard, causing it to cry out with a shrieking squelch.

The real damage was done by Eddie. He held a pressurized canister of dust cleaner in one hand and a lighter in the other. Igniting a spark turned the spray into a blow torch. A column of fire shot out, lashing at the monster’s body. It shrank backward, retracting its shape.

“The window!” Eddie shouted, his voice nearly lost in the creature’s shrieks. “Felicia, take out the window!”

Gunshots rang out. Honey covered her ears as glass rained down into a crashing cascade. The monster screamed with a noise similar to nails on a chalkboard as cold air rushed into the office. 

In a moment, everything was silent. The monster vanished. 

And so had Peter.

An hour had passed. The great room was eerily silent, even with the gang gathered there.

John was in the wind, having slithered away. Johnny Storm had been escorting him to the garage just as Honey was retrieving Peter’s gun. Walker was gone before anyone knew what was happening.

Honey gazed down at a wound on her right thigh—a scrape from being tossed across Peter’s office. The ring in her ears from the gunshot was only now fading. Her head was throbbing. Although if Peter had been a quarter-second later knocking the weapon away, there’d be a hole in it. 

Whatever healing her rib had accomplished had likely been undone by the desk. Or the—fuck, is tentacles even the right word?—the fierce grip of the monster. 

Whatever healing she had accomplished was undone. All of it, out the window. Whisked away with the monster living inside of Peter.

Which the Spider family had now seen. 

Once her sense of hearing had returned, Honey tuned in to the conversation again.

They had questions for her. They had questions in general, minds swirling with confusion and doubt. They were squabbling over facts, terrified by truths they weren’t ready for. Everyone, except Eddie, holding a solemn gaze on the windows outside. 

Felicia was beyond questioning and had progressed to action. She paced the floor in the room, eyes firm. It wasn’t a nervous tick, although fear was not an inappropriate response. Instead, she looked more like a general strategizing in the war room. 

That’s precisely what this was—a war. Honey could see that now—with secrets, spies, and death. Everyone was a casualty. The lines were blurred.

Even amongst Peter’s team.

Johnny sat on one side of the sectional with a pout on his face, and his arms crossed against his chest. “Wait, none of you were going to tell me that he was a psycho?” he protested. “Christ, I walked that guy to his car! I could’ve been killed!”

Miguel held an ice pack to the welt on his face. His response was colder. “Clearly, we were worried sick.”

Disgusted, Johnny whined, “You all left me out of your plan!”

“You’re not the only one,” Eddie muttered bitterly, staring at the black sky.

Felicia spun on her heel, facing the beefy hothead. “Johnny,” she began calmly, “I appreciate that this has been a real challenge for you. It’s been hard on all of us. And I want to be able to address your concerns. But for now? Do me a favor. Put a pin in it. And Shut. The Fuck. Up.”

Her raised voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling. With a scowl, Johnny wedged himself back further into the sofa. But he was silent.

Felicia turned her ire towards Eddie. “And you’ve got a lotta nerve bitching about secrets, Brock. You and Pete left out a couple of crucial details about Vegas.”

“Look, we can point fingers later,” Miguel sighed, agitated. He slapped the ice pack on the sofa cushions next to him. “Right now, we have bigger problems.” He fixed Honey with a stern gaze. “You’re the one who's been in communication with him. What can you tell us?”

Honey glared up at him coldly from beneath the fringe of her lashes. Didn’t bother to move her head or her slouched position in the armchair. “His name is John Walker,” she glowered. “He’s a Leo. And a vegetarian.”

Miguel’s lips straightened into a line. “Preferably something useful.”

“He’s a Fed and an asshole.”

Miguel huffed sardonically, “Okay, then. Something we don’t already know.”

Eyes flashing red, she hissed, “If you knew anything, you would know not to fuck with him!” Now sitting up in the chair, her vicious bite gave him pause. “He’s the devil,” she said. “He’s ten times worse than anything you’ve come up against.”

“I highly doubt that,” Miguel scoffed.

“You think this is a joke?” she snapped back, seething. “I’ve watched him destroy lives. Not just end them—destroy! The more violent, the better. He’s a cancer. He’s everywhere. He’s inside everything. He’s the man behind the curtain. The monster at the end of the book.” She fixed them with a grave expression, full of bitter resentment. “And one way or another, he always wins.”

Miguel shook his head with a sigh. “Look, no disrespect to what you’ve gone through, but you’re not—”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about what I’ve gone through!” Her voice snapped like a whip, crashing like thunder. Miguel’s mouth snapped shut. “If you did,” she spitefully said, “if you knew what he was—you wouldn’t breathe the same air as him, let alone work with him!”

Felicia stepped into her field of vision, fixing her with a firm gaze. “Listen to me,” she said, her voice low and calm. “We are not with him. Never were. I need you to understand that right now.”

Honey blinked up at her skeptically, the corners of her mouth downturned.

“We were never against you,” Felicia explained, lips tight. She downcasted her eyes with a bitter scowl. “He came to us about the same time you did. We knew ‘Steve Rogers’ was a sham. The social security number on his accounts belonged to a real Steve Rogers, who died in 1945.” Honey’s brow furrowed curiously. Felicia continued, “Figured he was a Fed, but we couldn’t crack his identity. Whoever hid him hid him well. We knew he was important. That he wanted to help us. And he was lying to us. That’s all we knew.”

Honey glanced down, her tear-laden eyes suddenly heavy.

“I promise you,” Felicia declared, her steel gaze locking onto Honey’s. Her words were weighed with sincerity. “We didn’t know how you were connected.” A moment passed. Her face fell somber, eyes going cold, “Or why you were working for him.”

Honey stared at her, offended. “You say it like I had a choice!”

“Let’s hear it, then.” Felicia threw her hands up with a ‘come here’ gesture. “Why did you agree to help him?”

Her eyes narrowed defensively. “Because,” she answered with a razor-sharp edge, “if I said ‘no,’ he would’ve murdered everyone I ever cared about. So. I said ‘yes.’” 

It was a simple enough answer, and Honey tossed it at her as such. The two women held an uncomfortable stare for several breaths. It was difficult for Honey to accept that this was Felicia whom she was skewering with her gaze, and the realization only made her heart sink further.

Honey’s face softened as her guilt settled in. “He had pictures of Bella. Peter said that he’d protect her, but that was a lie. It was never possible. Not when John’s involved.”

Miguel gazed at Honey, disappointed. “That’s not true,” he softly replied. “Peter wouldn’na let anything happen.”

Felicia shuffled her feet and continued to pace again. “Evidently not,” she muttered scornfully, “considering what we just saw.”

Miguel scowled at her. “We’re talking about Peter here!”

“Go suck his dick, then!” she cracked back like thunder. Miguel pulled his chin back as she jabbed her manicured finger towards him. “Letting a Fed into our backyard was your stupid idea,” she growled as she leveled her cold gaze, “and Peter was an idiot for agreeing to it! If you’d both listened to me, this Walker creep would have a bullet in his head already! And instead of dealing with that mistake right now, we have to focus on finding Peter and... killing whatever that thing is that’s got ‘em!”

“It’s not that easy,” Eddie replied, his back towards the group. “M’not even sure it can be killed.”

“What do you mean by it?” Honey looked over at him, wide-eyed. “Isn’t this about the drugs? The stuff he shoots up with?”

“Pete’s on drugs?” Johnny exclaimed, further irritated. “Whatthefu–are we Breaking Bad now?!”

“It’s not a drug,” Eddie said. A graveness weighed heavily on his voice. “It’s not... easy to explain.” 

Felicia gritted her teeth. “Try.” 

He looked at her over his shoulder, finally turning to face them. “It’s— it’s a living organism. A symbiote. Gets inside you and holds on. Like a parasite.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “We call it ‘Venom.’”

“Where the hell did that thing come from?” Johnny asked, eyes wide.

Eddie cast his gaze towards the floor. “From me.” 

The room fell silent for a moment. 

The gruff man tightened his lip, clearing his throat. “Pete helped me contain it,” he explained. “He studied it. And we thought... we thought we could use it to our advantage.”

“How exactly is turning into a giant squid helping our cause?” Miguel asked snidely. 

“It feeds off of you—yeah, but it also makes you stronger,” Eddie said. “Makes you practically invincible. Makes everything better—gives you abilities you couldn’t imagine.” He sighed, then added thoughtfully, “If any of us was gonna take a bullet, Pete wanted it to be him. ”

“Yeah,” Felicia groaned skeptically, “That sounds like our boy. But I’m not sure ‘better’ is the word I’d use to describe it.”

He swallowed hard, bitter remorse returning to his eyes. “It doesn’t have the same effect on everybody,” he explained. “Everybody’s different. The way it responded to Pete was... different. His body was adapting to it too quickly. Kept needing more, using more. Sometimes... Sometimes he’d black out. It would take over, and he wouldn’t remember a thing.” 

Eddie turned his attention to Honey. “That’s what happened in Vegas. The woman you saw was hired to kill him. Almost did. Ran him through with a sword. Then It took over. She never stood a chance.” 

Honey glanced down, biting her lip as she contemplated the information. 

Eddie turned his attention to the others. “That’ll happen to all of us if we’re not careful,” he warned. 

Miguel said thoughtfully, apprehensive eyes fixed on Eddie, “You keep talking about this thing like it has a consciousness. Does it?”

“It has a mind of its own,” he answered. “It takes all your thoughts and scrambles them. Implants its own. Pete’s not in the driver’s seat anymore. And Venom will kill us if we get too close.”

“Not all of us,” Felicia said, gears turning. Honey followed her voice to see the silver-haired woman’s gaze fixed on her. “It kept her from shooting herself,” she said. “Maybe Pete was the one in control. Maybe he can stop It from killing her.”

Honey’s eyes bugged out of her skull.

Miguel was already thinking the same thing. “If we find Peter, we can use her to snap him out of this. Get him somewhere safe and—uh... ? Detox him? Exorcize him—whatever, I don’t know—find a way to get that thing out.”

“Bait?” Honey exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?!” She shot a glare at Felicia. “You can’t be serious—”

“It’s not the best plan, but it’s what I’ve got,” Felicia replied, holding up her hand to silence any protests. Her tone was cold. “And considering this is your mess, too, I’d appreciate your cooperation.”

Honey blinked up at her, stunned. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yeah, I’m mad,” she said with an eerie calm. “Not because you lied. I don’t care that you kept secrets from us. I can even understand why you did what you did.” Her somber expression gave way to bitter anger. “But you put a gun to my friend’s head,” she said through gritted teeth. “And that I can’t abide.”

Honey blinked up at her several times, her jaw agape. The image of Peter’s desperate expression as she pointed the gun at him echoed in her mind, filling her with shame. “I-I don’t think I would’ve actually shot him,” she murmured, more of a whimper than a statement. “I-I’ve never fired a gun before—I don’t even know where the safety is!”

Johnny raised a finger, offering his two cents. “Guns like that don’t have a safety.” He was ignored. 

A hard crease had formed between Felicia’s eyebrows as she glared down at Honey, crossing her arms across her chest. “I’m not talking about him,” Felicia glowered.

Honey blinked again, pursing her lips shut. Then, reading her stern expression, confronting the betrayed look in her eyes. 

Felicia didn’t have many friends, that was certain. But she had counted Honey as one of them. And with the same fierce protectiveness that she used to defend her, she also used to admonish her. 

Buttoning up her emotions, Felicia turned to the others, “Alright, we can't afford to look vulnerable right now. We keep this quiet to everyone that’s not a Spider.” She looked at Miguel, Johnny, and Eddie. “We need to spread out. Cover all the ground we can until we find Peter. Eddie and Honey, you’re with me. Everyone, keep your eyes open. Not just for Peter but for our enemies. Feds included.”

Honey gasped, a terrifying thought crossing her mind. “Miles,” she said with alarm.

Felicia went still. “What about Miles?”

Honey glanced up at her, only taking a split second to decide. “John threatened to go after him,” she explained urgently. “He’s in danger.” 

Felicia rolled her eyes, growling, “Fuck me! You shoulda led with that!”

Johnny leaped to his feet. “Don’t worry, I’m on it.”

Felicia said to Honey and Eddie. “Let’s go.”

Honey came to a careful stand. Eddie joined her side. “Where are we goin’?”

“Empire State Building,” Felicia grimly replied. 

The first time Honey had been to the Empire State Building was on a class field trip. She remembered experiencing overwhelming vertigo from the sidewalk, one that almost kept her from being able to go up the elevator. She was equally unsettled now as she looked up at the orange sky. 

Eddie stood beside her on the sidewalk, both in the glow of a convenience store. He was less interested in the building and more interested in lighting his cigarette. Felicia wasn’t present, having instructed them to wait for her.

“Did you know it only took, like, 400-something days to build?” Honey said.

Eddie glanced over only briefly, uninterested. “You don’t say.”

She looked over at him incredulously. “So you’re mad at me, too?”

“Why’d you do it?” Eddie asked, tossing out all pretense.

Honey pressed her lips in a line and returned her gaze to the sky. “I told you,” she said. “He threatened—”

“I’m not talkin’ about your ex,” Eddie argued. “I mean, what you did back at the office. Why’d you put the gun to your head?”

Honey didn’t have an answer for that. “So, you are mad.”

He bristled, stewing in his frustration. “Didn’t say that,” he muttered, then took a long drag from his cigarette. “It wasn’t the smartest move.”

She let out a long sigh, an edge of sarcasm in her voice, “You know, I looked inside my bag of ‘good ideas,’ and as it turns out—it was empty. Just like my bag of ‘fucks to give.’”

Eddie blew the smoke out of his lungs. “That doesn’t sound like you. ‘Specially after what Pete told you about how his girl died.”

“I never said I was a good person, Eddie,” she remarked with a clipped tone. “You want to judge me, that’s fine.” 

“I’m not speaking from the point of judgment,” Eddie replied quietly. “I’m speaking from experience.” She turned to him curiously. He took another long drag. “That’s how I met Pete, y’know?”

She stayed silent, shaking her head, ‘no.’ He shoved his free hand in the pocket of a far-too-thin hoodie for the weather. 

“Yep,” he sighed, avoiding meeting her gaze. “You’re not the only one that ran out of good ideas.”

Her head tilted at the admission, eyes softening. Idly, he scratched the scruff on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. He fidgeted in a way that reminded her of Peter. 

“It was a couple of years ago, actually,” Eddie explained, only glancing up briefly. “I used to be a reporter back in San Francisco. I was covering this shady corporation— pretty sure I was about to expose them for illegal human testing. Instead, I, uh...well... Venom found me.”

His eyes darkened, shadows falling across his face. She stayed quiet.

“It was, uhm... rough,” he continued. “I couldn’t control it. Then the company I was investigating accused me of stealing their ‘property.’ I was trying everything I could to get rid of it. Lost everything. My job. Apartment. Girlfriend. Came here to start over, but... I pissed off the big guys in Silicon Valley. You don’t start over from that. They made sure of it.”

He paused, tensing with wet eyes. Sucked another breath through his cigarette, then continued. “I was angry,” he snarled under his breath. “Not just at them. Not even at the Symbiote. I was angry at me... for getting into this mess in the first place.”

The words slowed down, almost getting lost in his thoughts. “I got low. Decided that I didn’t care, either. All that mattered was killing this thing. Even if it killed me first.”

He stared at the passing cars with calm, haunted eyes. By contrast, she was shocked.

“Pete stopped me,” he said. “He saved me.” The fading sunlight reflected a shimmer in his gaze. “He’s the only one that tried to help me. He’s the only one that ever understood that this thing—Venom— it’s a gift and a curse. ‘Oppenheimer’s Genie,’ he called it.” A brief smile crossed his lips before it faded into his memories. “He’s the only one that understood the burden and wanted to help me carry it.”

She gulped hard as a burning sensation piled up behind her eyes. Her jaw tensed as she tried to blink the moisture away.

“When I met him, I didn’t realize that, of course,” Eddie added. “He had to knock my ass out. Carry me fireman-style out of a belltower.” A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed it down. “He coulda just let me die. I’ve never understood why Peter would go out of his way to save me. Until today.”

She stayed silent, although her heart ached so much she was confident the throb was audible. The pain she felt for him shimmered in her eyes.

“Nobody that tries to do the right thing is a bad person,” Eddie said, glancing over at her. “You’re not a bad person.” 

His soft words felt like a knife to her heart, cutting open the thick muscle walled up around it. Tears welled up in her eyes. She fought the urge to collapse into a pile on the sidewalk.

“I know it seems like sometimes the world wants you to be your worst,” Eddie added. “Sometimes, you want to be your worst. I get that too. You think it’s easier that way to deal with all the bad shit that’s happened to you. As if it can make you immune.” He turned to face her, and for a moment, she felt like they were in their own little world. A snow globe amongst the chaos.

“Stop trying to be whoever you’re pretending to be,” he concluded thoughtfully. He put the cigarette up to his lips, taking a final draw. “Accept who you are, and work with that.” 

He fell silent, taking in the sounds and sights of the city at twilight. She stared up at him with her lips pursed and her heart aching. Her first impression of Eddie was amusing to her in retrospect—the stoner-loner with a mouth full of cupcake— and now he had proven himself to be one of the wisest people she’d ever met.

They turned their attention towards Felicia as she jogged up to them breathlessly. Her look of barely-concealed dread told them what she had confirmed. “He’s not here,” she sighed in frustration. “Christ - do we really have to comb through every landmark that this pathetic emo boy could possibly mope on? We’ll be out here for days—”

“Why were you in a bell tower?” Honey asked Eddie. Both he and Felicia looked baffled by her question.

Eddie’s brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“You said you wanted to get rid of it,” Honey explained, “and you were in a bell tower? Why there?”

Eddie shrugged, “It doesn’t seem to like loud noises very much. Thought I could kill it.”

Honey gazed at him, her mind spinning as she plugged in pieces. “That’s what his plan is.”

“What?”

“Maybe Peter is in control,” she explained, turning to Felicia. “Maybe he’s trying to find a way to kill the Symbiote.”

Eddie shook his head, stunned at the foolishness of such a plan. “So, what, you’re saying he’s banging his head against a giant bell somewhere?”

Felicia’s eyes widened, before they rolled into the back of her head with frustration. “Shit.” The two of them turned to her worriedly. “I know exactly where he is.”

Continue to Part 19

[back to masterlist]

A/N Thank you for your patience on this update everyone! We are in the home stretch. The next two chapters will feature almost everything you've been waiting for. :-)

To be tagged when they release, you must reblog so I can keep track of all 100+ of you!

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

☕️the most egregious problem The Flash has is that it literally NEVER ADDRESSES ANY of the trauma it consistently puts Barry and co through, like it has other problems but I think that's the worst lol

1000000% and I will die mad about it.

Since it’s (always) on my mind, let’s take season 2 for example shall we?

If I had a nickel for everytime Post-Zoom-trauma just disappeared at the drop of a hat, I’d have four nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s fucking INFURIATING THAT IT HAPPENED F O U R TIMES

The four (for lack of a better word) victims in question: Caitlin, Barry, Jesse, and Jay.

Caitlin: kidnapped and held against her will for (I believe) two weeks (that’s putting it simply but we’ve all seen the show so🤷‍♀️). The show gives her one single episode to deal with it, during which she shows very real symptoms of PTSD— solved and therefore ignored and glossed over entirely with a single pep talk. I would also like to add that she showed NO fear of him in the season finale which makes no fucking sense with what the show established only an episode earlier. But tbh, this is the best one because at least the show ACKNOWLEDGED that trauma; if only for one episode.

Barry: Back broken during first encounter (among other severe injuries), humiliated by being dragged around the city to show he wasn’t strong enough to stop Zoom, confidence shattered from the experience. Like Caitlin, we got one episode to deal with this trauma and in that episode, Barry also showed signs and symptoms of PTSD (the entire season is evidence tbh). But of course, one pep talk from his dad and everything’s magically ok :-D !!!!!! I’m going to eat glass (also I will definitely make a post on that fucking episode because I hate it). As mentioned; he continues to have PTSD symptoms throughout the season but it’s glossed over so much and attributed to generic-superhero-stuff™️ that it really doesn’t matter. Gods, I could go on all day about Barry’s post-Zoom AND post-Thawne trauma. (Oh, he was also kidnapped, threatened, and {borderline} tortured by Zoom in the Earth-2 episodes; but that’s all normal superhero stuff ofc so it doesn’t matter right :-D !!! gnawing at the bars of my enclosure)

Jesse: Good gods where do I even start. Kidnapped by a known serial killer, tortured by said serial killer, repeatedly and (probably) constantly threatened with death, and held captive for around 9-10 months. Mm also, she was clearly terrified of Zoom every time he showed up prior to her rescue. Sounds like an extremely traumatic experience with multiple opportunities and instances to develop PTSD right? WRONG! According to the lovely writers; people are completely fine after a traumatic experience is over! What’s PTSD??? chewing glass chewing glass chewing glass. They didn’t even TRY with her, at least with Barry and Caitlin they pretended to give a shit about what they went through but Jesse makes two things crystal clear. 1) The writers don’t care about your trauma unless you’re an MC. 2) The writers put minimal effort into trauma if any; MC or not. It’s like they said ‘Ooo, we should have Caitlin kidnapped by Zoom!’ ‘Won’t that have some sort of effect on her? Being kidnapped is a terrifying experience’ ‘Ah fuck you’re right… eh, we’ll give her one episode ig’ ‘What about Jesse?’ ‘Who?’

Jay: Fucking. Hell. I ordered this in what I consider best handled to worst. Jay is by far— handled worst. Let’s see here *checks notes* Ah yes. Kidnapped and taken to a completely different Earth, an attempted theft of his powers, imprisoned and put in a mask so he can’t speak, {not confirmed but very likely with Zoom’s track record and somewhat implied} tortured, had his identity stolen and {likely} mocked and tormented about the subject, and the ~delightful~ cherry on top— held captive in this situation for at least one year. Fuck I’m so tired. Anyways; there’s not much to say. He got rescued (off-screen ofc), was able to access his powers instantly with no problems, and left to go back to his Earth. Trauma? What trauma? *gestures wildly at said trauma posted above* That’s not traumatic at all! *screams* I don’t care how much experience you have as a superhero— that doesn’t just GO AWAY! PTSD, FLASH WRITERS. LOOK INTO IT P L E A S E fuck I just remembered the show is over now ALL YOUR MC’S HAVE IT! EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. Sigh. In the end of *gestures at said trauma* all that, Jay was just used to cause Barry more greif from his father’s death. Obviously he gets roles in later seasons but (as far as I can remember) this whole thing was never brought up again. Sigh.

I COULD GO ON

I COULD GO ON FOR DAYS

but I won’t cause dear gods I’ve been typing forever now

[zwergenhandwerk]

Snowed in with Yuji

This is really just a very short fluffy scenario that came to my head, when I didn't wanna leave the bed for work. :') I hope some of you enjoy this anyway! This is my entry for @shirohyorin 's Ficmas Calendar 2022!

Summary: You and Yuji get to spend your day at home, because there's too much snow to drive to work. That's really all there is. :) (This is an AU since Yuji aged up, man's got a job, and he's just a normal dude™️, he's... curseless.) Genre: x reader, fluff, AU Word Count: 1k Content Warnings: None. Maybe extreme weather? And mentions of having to go to work obviously, lmao.

It was early in the morning, no light shining through your window yet, when you heard Yuji's alarm go off. You felt him shifting on his side of the bed and letting out a grumble, before he turned off the alarm on his phone.

Just a few moments later, he readjusted your blanket to cover your bare shoulder, which you didn't realize until now has felt really cold, and left you with a kiss to your forehead to tumble over to the bathroom.

On one hand, you always felt really sorry for him, for having to get up for work somewhat earlier than you. On the other hand, it always gave you a chance to appreciate the fact that you can stay in bed just a little while longer.

So that's what you did. You cuddled yourself deeper into the warmth of your sheets and tried to slumber a bit longer, accompanied by the quiet noises of Yuji getting ready in the bathroom next door.

Just when Yuji was done and left the bathroom while whistling a Christmas song, your alarm went off as well. You pulled the blanket over your head in hopes you could block out the noise, but you knew you had to get out off your warm bed into the cold December air eventually.

When you heard Yuji approaching you to tuck away your blanket carefully, you let out a whine.

"Pleeeaaase... Don't make me leave the bed."

He petted your hair and gave you a warm smile. "Come on, I'll make sure coffee is waiting for you before I leave."

You thanked him with a light peck to the cheek and watched him walk to the kitchen, while you left your bed with a heavy sigh, feet searching for your slippers on the ground. A shiver ran down your spine, when you got up and left the warmth of your bed for good.

"Am I imagining things, or is the flat way colder than yesterday?" you whined over to Yuji, who was preparing coffee in the kitchen as he promised.

But you didn't get an answer. Maybe he just didn't hear you, because the coffee machine was so loud. Then, the noises of the machine boiling the water stopped abruptly and Yuji hurried over to the bedroom.

"Forget about the coffee," he exclaimed with a big grin. "Look out the window!"

You really did not want to forget about your coffee, the only thing that motivated you to get out off bed, but you did as Yuji told you and made your way to the window.

The sight that awaited you was magical. Everything was completely covered in snow. The streets, cars, houses, lanterns, trees... all was overlaid with a thick blanket of snow. Not a single car drove down the streets.

You came to the conclusion that, "There's no way I can go to work like this."

"I just got an e-mail from my boss that we're supposed to stay home until the streets have been cleared and are safe to drive again. Maybe you've got a mail too?" Yuji sounded very hopeful for you, cause it would mean getting to spend the day at home with you.

You checked your phone quickly, but there was no e-mail from your job yet. So you took matters into your own hands, and decided to give your boss' assistant a quick call.

"Oh no, everyone who can't reach the office by foot is supposed to stay home! We much rather have everyone alive for the Christmas party next week," the voice on the other end said jokingly. You thanked her for that, knowing that many other jobs would have required you to find a way to get to work anyways.

When you hung up, Yuji was already jogging back into the kitchen, rattling with some mugs and almost aggressively pulling out different ingredients out of the cupboards.

You found him preparing hot chocolate with marshmallows and sprinkles in two large Christmas mugs with an adorably joyful expression. When he caught you watching him, he cheerfully walked over to you and pulled you in for a kiss.

You were a little surprised by his eagerness, but it was like you could almost feel his relief of getting to spend the day with you instead of being separated.

The warmth of his body replaced the chilly air that creeped up your body this morning and made you feel so warm and wanted, that your hands searched for any way to pull him even closer to you, even though it was impossible at this point.

When your lips parted, the flat didn't feel so cold anymore, and all the colors around you seemed a tad warmer and brighter.

After a quiet moment of getting lost in each others eyes, Yuji snapped back to being excited about his plans for the day and grabbed the mugs he left on the kitchen table earlier.

"So, what your favorite Christmas Movie?" he asked excitedly.

You ended up cuddling under a fluffy blanket, the mugs warm and filled with the most delicious hot chocolate, and your favorite Christmas Movie on. Your head sank onto Yuji's shoulder with a content sigh, as he ran his fingers through your hair and over your neck lovingly.

Snow was still falling outside, and you didn't hear a single car drive by yet. The only thing you could hear from time to time, were children playing outside - seems like school has been canceled as well.

Throughout the day, Yuji and you made sure to make it as enjoyable as possible. You took a walk through the snow, holding hands in his pocket, had a snowball fight that ended in stealing a few kisses from each other, warmed up with a bowl of soup when you came back inside and baked cookies for dessert.

At the end of the day, both of you ended up together in your bathtub and put on your matching Christmas pajamas afterwards. This day was exactly what it took for you to get into the holiday mood, after being stressed too stressed to enjoy these special days. And you knew the rest of December would be just as festive, having your lovely pink-haired boyfriend around, whether he made you some coffee to get you out of bed, or served you hot chocolate to seduce you into staying at home.

[nat-seal-well]

I’m going to the renaissance fair today so I probably won’t be on much, haha. I’m about to go get ready for it because that’s going to be a Process™️. But before I do that I wanted to share part of what I’ve been working on (since I hit a roadblock with my other wip again).

When Elena comes to, it happens in stages.

She is vaguely aware of her mind waking up, only to be pulled back under the sea of unconsciousness. Like the lull of ocean waves, advancing and retreating, she is one grain of sand picked up by the force of the water and helpless to do anything but ride it out. Conscious and then not. Conscious and then not. Over and over again, in a loop.

But tides go out eventually, and when hers does, she finds she’s able to stay awake for more than a few seconds. Here is the next stage. She is slow, groggy, and wakefulness comes sluggishly like it often does after a long night with Tina and cheap, flavored vodka.

The third stage is thought, and the thought in particular that she has is, I fucking hurt.

I fucking hurt is an understatement. If Elena wanted to be more precise, she wouldn’t have been able to tell herself anything at all, because she doesn’t have the words for it. The hurting is an all-over sort of pain, a compounded concretion of many different kinds all at the same time. Her muscles ache. Her head is killing her, above her right eye, where something feels gross and like it was wet once, but dry now. All of her limbs burn with the stinging of too many different cuts to count. And whatever is under her is hard and unyielding, like stone, which does nothing to help.

It occurs to her afterward that this is not normal. She should be—

She should be…

…Where should she be?

There is a gap in her memory that unnerves her exactly as much as it should, which is to say, a lot.

Through her closed eyelids, Elena can see that there is a light. Someone must have left it on, which is annoying. She already has a headache and the brightness of the light won’t do a single thing to help, so she elects to keep her eyes shut as she has a little, private, spiral of panic.

Okay, okay, okay, she says. C’mon. Don’t freak out. (Too late, but she can try.) What happened? What is the last thing you remember?

Where were you?

When Elena was in high school, she needed to fill one of her classes with an elective because she was an extremely uninteresting teenager and didn’t feel like having a free period. It was the only high school in Wayhaven—what was she going to do? Wander around town? That was what all the other kids did their last year, only taking a half-day because they already had all of their required credits, but Elena didn’t see the point in it. She had already spent endless weekends unsupervised and doing exactly that, when she wasn’t working short shifts part-time at a little boutique she hated. So she decided to take an Intro to Photography class, just for the hell of it.

They had her go out with one of those super old cameras, the kind from before everything went digital. The pictures had to be processed in chemical baths under a red light, the whole deal, and then hung up to dry and develop. Whatever the camera had captured an image of would start to show eventually, a little at a time, and Elena’s was spectacularly awful. It was a good thing the teacher graded based on participation.

Trying to remember feels a lot like that picture in the dark room.

It comes to her slowly, bit by bit. Fuzzy at first, it starts to clear up the further she pries into her own head, even though that is already voicing its complaint with the throbbing right above her eye.

[nether-before]

oc posting with no lore? for shame...

how are you gonna leave me interested in your designs with no context?!

You're really going to make me put the vague and disjointed thoughts in my head into words? Me?

Ok in all seriousness they all exist in a post apocalyptic outer dimensional space. Dimensions are being consumed by these unknowable objects/beings but fragments of life persevere on the crumbs they leave behind. The whole fragmentation reality breaking thing has a variety of effects on those caught in it such as "mutant" humans like Jan and Miggy or the more extreme schrodinger's corpse type situation that the disembodied head is in, but there are "normal" humans too.

There's all kinds of other stuff like alternate universe creatures/humans, a relatively benign cult worshipping precursor artefacts and world's worst white woman ™️ but its mostly just people trying to thrive at the end of the world.

[tieflingteef]

so, for context, Millie is a hexblood witch created in a cauldron from a soul larva by a coven of night hag sisters in order to become the vessel of their dead archfiend father, Cergaroth. so as you can imagine she’s a horrible little freak

also, this campaign uses a system called Action Points, which basically let each of us periodically pull off badass stunts that we normally couldn’t

anyway yeah, a non-exhaustive list of Millie Moments™️:

immediately developed an incredibly strong crush on Ionia the paladin, who despises fiends and undead, even though Millie is a devil-worshipping necromancer. almost burned down a library trying to save Ionia from what turned out to be a non-threat despite Millie later saying that she strongly disagrees with the destruction of knowledge

shoved a guy who made her uncomfortable off his mule and then complained when she wasn’t able to provoke it into kicking him too

showed how much she respected two of the party’s recently deceased allies by not asking if she could harvest their body parts (I mean this completely genuinely, that really does mean a lot coming from her)

briefly grew two extra ears due to a potion mishap resulting from an Action Point used to craft a healing potion way too fucking fast. while the party was fighting against an enemy that used thunder damage

immediately after succeeding on her save against Tasha’s Hideous Laughter, successfully cast Tasha’s Hideous Laughter against the person who had just tried to cast it on her

used an Action Point to channel pure rage into a blast of magic aimed at an enemy while he was trying to teleport out, thus leaving him, in Millie’s words, “thoroughly discorporated”

finally realized she has a crush on Ionia after the party members got asked point blank if they were a polycule or something because the three of them kept bickering like an old married couple

immediately developed a crush on a polite, long-haired, kinda muscular half-elf merchant guy with good cheekbones who kept complimenting the party members because flattery is a tactic that works extremely well on Millie

became extremely gleeful when she realized the enemies who had captured us had failed to keep her bomb-making supplies in the higher-security area where they put our weapons and armor

broke free of fear induced by a barrier spell she had tried to pass through by reminding herself that Ionia was on the other side and needed help, then, upon entering and seeing a mind flayer, shouted that she needed his bits

after being compelled with a Suggestion spell, slid down a Greased slip-n-slide that would’ve sent her straight into an ooze before panicking and icing it with a Ray of Frost

became the chew toy of a fiendish wolf made of ice (oops)

using an Action Point, commanded the Rod of the Pact Keeper that’s mysteriously infused itself into her left arm to work for her before commanding a bunch of undead to bow down, becoming empowered by pure evil through her attempt to magically assert control over these unholy beings, before cackling involuntarily as she gripped her own neck with the rod arm and healing herself, electrifying her with red and black lightning that made her skeleton visible like a cartoon character getting electrocuted

as recently noted, killed a drider with Vicious Mockery by threatening to snap said drider’s neck. while paralyzed.

[waitineedaname]

Another Ritsu Thought™ (kind of) (please for the love of god tell me if these get too overbearing🫡im just so normal about him and need other people to be normal together with.)

i've always known he and teru are kind of alike in more ways than just being popular boy duo and their obsession with psychic powers and growing up earlier than they should have and etc but the one i'm thinking most about right now is how they're like. the type of traumatized that tries so fucking hard to excuse/justify the stuff they went through. teru would never admit he's ever gone through anything slightly traumatizing. he's like "[has not heard the voice of his father nor felt the touch of his mother for years] [is going through a life threatening situation] this is just part of my character arc guys dont worry! it will make me stronger :)". while ritsu would be like "well yes but i turned out great actually. [shows you a collection of trophies] do you think i'd have these if i grew up without a scar on my head and expectations on my shoulders🙄". they'd also both go "Well It Got Me Places!" and then proceed to make up every possible excuse to explain how it was actually their fault and they deserved it and it was not really that bad and (do you see the vision)

one of my favorite things about mp100 is the fact that every character can parallel every other character in so many different ways, and ritsu and teru in particular make my brain fucking rattle around like a can of bees. teru absolutely tries to justify everything as part of his Character Arc™️ like he spent so long thinking of himself as the protagonist of this world so whenever something traumatic happens, he's like "this is just part of my tragic backstory, I'll be fine :)" <- desperately needs therapy

meanwhile I think ritsu is like. maybe one of the more self aware of the kids? which is a low fucking bar, but considering he is a) thirteen, and b) extremely traumatized, he actually demonstrates a surprising amount of emotional intelligence. he's usually able to put his feelings into words (though usually just in his internal monologue), he was able to identify the guilt he was feeling during the cleanup arc and explain why he was acting the way he was, he's fully aware both he and his brother are traumatized (best demonstrated by the confession arc confrontation). so I think he's decently self aware, but with the caveat that he is in fact only thirteen and makes stupid decisions.

the thing that really gets me about his relationship to his trauma though is that post I saw about how he's internalized his role as the sacrificial lamb to provoke his brother into action. he knows the best way to get mob to act is to be endangered somehow, no matter how much that brushes against both their traumas. it's why the moment before his 100% is so important! he's breaking that cycle of trauma! he knows it's not getting them anywhere!

[rozinaaa]

I May Be In My 20s, But Deep Down, It Feels Like I'm In My 50s

Honestly, I'm not sure what causes this, but I feel so much older than I actually am that I'm sometimes shocked when I realise that I'm not even 23 yet, possibly because it feels like I'm a parent to the people who are actually within the same age range as me.

Hell, even The Adults™️ (the ones that are over the age of 30) usually act younger than they actually are, which definitely does feel weird to me, since I usually assume that they're the ones that are still in their 20s.

I'm not sure if this feeling of being more than twice my age stems from the fact that I'm the eldest of my siblings (since this usually comes with a lot of responsibility, where I basically have to lead by example, and where it sometimes feels like I'm the 3rd parent), but I think it plays a big part in this, although I think I'd be more or less the same if I was a middle child, or the youngest one by a mile.

I've tried being like "the other girls my age" (especially up until I graduated), but to be honest, I have nothing in common with them apart from the fact that we were both born in the same year, which really doesn't make that much of a difference to me.

On top of that, everything that a regular twenty-something would do (from what I know, it's being obsessed with youself, going out all the time, chasing trends, causing drama, taking a ridiculous amount of photos of literally everything ever, living your entire life on your phone, being off your face half the time, and regretting your actions for the other half) just feels insanely shallow and extremely boring to me, since I know that there's so much more to life than just that, so I can barely relate to anyone that's around my age, and at this point, I don't even know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

I think I probably would have felt a lot more at home if I was born in 1971 (instead of 2001), since I would have been able to live a fairly analogue childhood (where the tech was scarce, hardly anything was on TV, the only phone that existed was a landline in a public place of the house, and computers were nothing more than just terminals where you'd type commands into it, not to mention that it was normal to go out and play if the weather was decent), as well as being able to live out my teen years and my emergence into adulthood without being glued to screens all day, since I'd still be able to do things without being so exhausted by the constant bombardment of things all the time.

If that was true, I'd be right on time for the dawn of the Personal Computer, I'd get to enjoy retro games (although they were probably modern and groundbreaking at the time) in their purest form from the word "go" (instead of being exposed to Pandora's Box, seeing literally everything ever, and not being able to enjoy the simple things that much anymore), I'd also get to enjoy sci-fi in its purest form (back when it was actually fiction and not some painfully accurate predictions of what the world would become), I'd actually get to use the first iteration of the internet (also known as Web 1.0) in real time instead of using it via second hand nostalgia, I'd be able to work an office job yet have the ability to fully leave my work at the office, it would be normal to use cash to buy things, it would be completely normal to use paper train tickets without feeling like a crotchety old person, no one else would be glued to their screens all the time, there wouldn't be any phone zombies at all (plus people would also have more spatial awareness), going to the local markets and cornershops would also be normal, and I'd be able to use a brick phone (after becoming a fully formed adult) without looking suspicious, not to mention that as of the 2020s, my physical age and the age that I'd feel would more or less be aligned, which would feel satisfying to me.

However, such is the case that I was born 30 years too late for all that, so it sometimes does feel like I am a time traveller and undercover agent (who is really about 50, but genuinely passes as a twenty-something because I actually am a twenty-something) that can study people in their 20s without it looking weird, since I'm also in that crowd, and no one would really notice, so I guess there's that, although this concept would probably make a damn good novel.

With all of that said, it genuinely does feel frustrating to feel over twice my age and feeling like I was born way too late, because trust me, I've tried acting my age and I've tried to stay within this era of hyper everything ever, but after a bit, it does get tiring, and I sometimes do wonder what life would have been like if smartphones and insanely dystopian social media were never invented.

[sometimesanalice]

Fabiola!!! 🥹🥹🥹

You’ve got me in tears with this reblog! This was the first thing I ever wrote and it’s so special to me!

I just love how they were each trying to make Christmas so special for the other person! 💖🎄

More for you!

“Me with my wiles and you with your Rooster charisma, I think this might be the year! I’ll set the groundwork and you can lay the ruggedly-handsome-impossibly-sexy-American-hero-thing on thick,” he loved how animated you were getting and he was having a hard time keeping the indulgent smile off of his face. “And she’ll fall right into our trap and release the goods all while thinking she’s staring in her own Hallmark movie.” He knew he would do anything for you, what his girl wants she gets. If that involves some light to heavy flirting with your aunt, so be it. He was getting soufflé recipe for you one way or another.”-I found this part so funny and sweet at the same time. The plan they had studied could have worked, maybe next time they can try. I found it so important and sweet that Bradley would do anything to make his girlfriend happy🥹

That man was SO DOWN to lay on the Rooster Charm™️ to get that recipe for her! He is absolutely so smitten with her that all he wants to do is make her happy (and get her that corn soufflé recipe!). But it’s so sweet how they’re already such a team about things, like he’s just tipsy and talking and he’s already thinking of a list of flirty lines he can use to sweet talk his way into getting that recipe, lol

“That’s not the only thing you like full and girthy,” he couldn’t help but let slip out”- Bradley didn't miss the opportunity 😂

He is a MENACE. He’s always on the look out for the mistletoe too.

“and then carried it over his shoulder out to the Bronco.”-Is it normal that I find the image of Bradley carrying the tree on his shoulder extremely sexy? Because wow🫠

I am right there with you 🫡 like it’s a good visual!

“He loved the sound of your voice. He loved it in the morning when it was thick with sleep, how excited you got when you were talking about something you were passionate about, and he especially loved the breathy whispers and words of encouragement from you in his ear late at night when he was moving so deep within you.”-I found this detail so intimate. I loved how you wrote about the different sound of the voice in different situations. It gave me an extreme sense of intimacy, the fact that he knew and heard her voice change depending on the situation, and that he heard her in moments that only the two of them shared.

This part makes me swoon too! I love just how much he notices and pays attention when it comes to her!

“But maybe we can order some pizza, Sweetheart? And put on one of those Christmas movies you like? Y’know the ones where the people live in a town is named something like Tinselville and their dogs fall in love?” He asks his voice sounding a bit boyish and hopeful.”-Aww, despite not being at his best, Bradley's priority is still her🥹 what's better than eating pizza while watching Christmas movies with Bradley?

There’s NOTHING better than a pizza and some Christmas movies with Bradley! He’d definitely be the type to like tease her about those movies and then (not so) secretly get invested

“A very large, very fluffy, pink Christmas tree.”-He got her her dream tree😭🫶🏼

He diiiiiddddddd 💖💖💖🥹🥹🥹 I loved that reveal!

Thank you so much for this lovely reblog! It made my day! If you’re curious about their second Christmas together, I recently shared Make You Mine This Season!

Oh Christmas Tree

Summary: Bradley’s never been one to look forward to the holidays, that is until he met you. He’s excited to do everything, including getting his very first real Christmas tree.

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, allusions to smut. Minors DNI.

Length: 7.2K 

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

(What was supposed to be a quick fluffy Christmas fic, somehow turned into this, enjoy!)

The atmosphere at the Hard Deck was livelier than usual, the music seemed more upbeat and the voices a little louder. It was the first time in a while that the entire Dagger Squad was together in one place. News of the success of the Uranium Mission traveled fast and had been keeping them busy in the months that had followed.

Things seemed to settle down a bit as the holidays rolled around, some has dispersed home for Thanksgiving while a few others had been given last minute orders to ship out for a short mission. You’d been dying to take Bradley Bradshaw home to meet your parents in person, but he had been one of the few sent away only set to return the day after Thanksgiving.

You’re sitting across from Natasha at a high top near the pool tables in the back of the bar listening to Jake talk about his visit home, while your boyfriend next to you talks animatedly about something related to his latest mission with Bob.

“I shaved off an extra 5 minutes from the last Trot. Turns out I’m in even better shape than I was the last time I was home for Thanksgiving,” Jake brags smugly taking a swig of his beer from his nearly empty bottle.

“Wait, you come from a Turkey Trot family? That explains so much. Please tell me, you guys wear matching Seresin family shirts for it too,” you tease without remorse. “Oh! Or maybe those turkey leg bobble headbands?” 

Continua a leggere

[staysuki]

DOWNCAST | seo changbin fic

pairing: writer!seo changbin x reader | established relationship au

genre: fluff, soft angst, changbin is a sadboi™️

word count: ~750

warnings: none.

synopsis: you were the only light in changbin’s gloomy life.

mastertag: @geniejunn @leagreenly @90s-belladonna @fuzzylard @loveliebri @chimmybaek7 @todorokiskitten @lilacdreams-00

networks: @ficscafe

“did you eat yet?” your head popped from the doorway to his office, and suddenly, changbin’s energy was instantly recharges. he looks at you as your frame emitted an ethereal glow that filled his vision with a warm loving light. your radiance never failing to get him through every single depressing day of his life. you were the only source of his joy in this world, the only love he holds onto. you were the only light in his dark surroundings, giving him the much needed boost to keep him going on.

he shook his head to your question, then training his eyes back to the computer in front of him, typing down on his manuscript. he had forgotten the words that were floating around in his head when you made your presence known, a distraction that always throws him off his writing momentum— but he didn’t care. it was you, after all. you could distract him as many times as you want and changbin would let you do it without a single complaint.

he didn’t like noise, he didn’t like harsh light, hence why his office was always so dark and glum, so devoid of life. he didn’t like it whenever people refused to knock before entering— but whenever you do it, he finds it endearing. there were many things that you did opposite to how he likes it: how you never bothered to separate the whites and colored clothes in the laundry, how you never cleaned the inside of the oven, how you never knew how to turn down the tv volume when you watched netflix. so many things that should get on his nerves— but since it was you, it never did. in fact, he basked on all of your quirks, labelling it as you, and became a normal addition to his life.

he hated the world. he hated talking to people and hated it more when people tried to talk to him. he loved locking himself in his room, surrounded by books and words to be put on a page, to make his own world where things are okay and life is governed by laws defying all sorts of logic. he liked it better being alone in his dark room, never to be disturbed. he doesn’t even like the fame that came with his works, he simply enjoyed creating them. he was the eccentric writer— the guy who has zero hopes in life: until you came along.

you gave him a small pout, your significant other barely moving to take care of himself. you understood his work and you understood how driven he is when it comes to it. if it was up to him, you knew that he’d never stand up from his desk.

you remember the first time you’ve met— a mutual friend asked you for help because changbin had been locked away in his office for more than 48 hours, you remember chan asking you to accompany him as he visited and take care of changbin’s chores. accidentally, you entered his office, thinking it was the bathroom, the stale air immediately greeting your senses. but what caught your attention was the man passed out on the floor in front of a computer. in a panic, you shouted for chan who immediately came running, worried about your frantic disposition until he saw changbin. he said that it was normal for the man to work until he passed out, unhealthy as it was, it was how changbin thrived.

ever since then, frequent visits from you became a regular occurence. you didn’t even know why you always came back to him, perhaps it was the intrigue to get to know someone with such an extreme work ethic. you would cook for him, freshen up his office, clean his apartment— you made a lot of noise, but changbin never complained.

one night, when work had overloaded you and you forgot to visit changbin you got home and wondered what it was that you had missed— it wasn’t until the man himself came knocking on your door, a worried expression in his face with the only words leaving his lips: “you didn’t come.”— that was the night that you two had become official. to finally just live together.

there were no other words exchanged, just two lips joining together as one in smooth languid flows against each other.

it was then that changbin realized that maybe life isn’t as dark as he thought it was.

[calciferstims]

o no, dont worry about it, i didnt mind!

oh the ones i seen are neurodivergent but they had them tagged as aesthethic. but they may have spoken about neurotypicals though, now that you do mention it. i didnt think about that lol.

i think that idea is strange. i mean they arent exclusively done to nd's, i think everyone should be able to enjoy them. as long as they obviously dont break whatever dni's they have and behave nicely, it should be fine. or so i think at least. but you might be right though.

lmao i definitely agree with you. i mean lets be real though, they are aesthetically pleasing to look like. maybe they have beef with the word aesthethic lol.

so ironic you mentioned about whether your anxiety is normal level or nah, i have gotten a video recommended to me a couple times now about whats normal anxiety and what isnt. aint looked at it because i already know my shits out of control bad lol. like severe n whatnot.

oh my god can you please share a link to it? i wanna see it! sucks to hear it may have not helped, but may have been able to provide some kind of distraction at least?

HI SORRY I KEPT FORGETTING TO ANSWER THIS I have just had. A Week™️

But yeah I definitely I think stimboard should be enjoyable to anyone!! It’s just aesthetic fun times 😌

And yeah I need to do more research on anxiety tbh 😂 for years I’ve really written off my anxiety (even though other ppl picked up on it) because it wasn’t that ‘extreme’ but it wasn’t until pretty recently that I was like. Ok yeah maybe this Isn’t Normal for realsies…. (Meanwhile my mom and my therapist and my friends are all sitting there like yes congrats you are literally the last one to know 😂) but I’m still not sure???? Idk.

[clamsjams]

@archetypal-archivist interesting point! and while it’s definitely a way that the two differ, i don’t really think that it’s part of the joe hills difference™️. now obviously everyone can have their own view of things, and i think the joe hills difference™️ is already pretty vague and hasn’t really been clearly defined (as far as i know, i’ve only been watching him for about a year, since the empires crossover, so if he has defined it somewhere feel free to correct me) so it makes sense that there’s a lot of different interpretations of it. and i’ll try my best to explain the way i see it. under the readmore bc it got long

to me, the joe hills difference™️ is about the way joe hills does things. it’s about doing things that are interesting. it’s about doing things that make people stop for a second and go “huh. that’s strange.” and then move on. it’s about doing things in ways that are not always easy, efficient or even particularly smart, not because you can’t do it in better ways, but because doing it normally would be boring and not fun. and even though once you finish, those things may not have been done properly or well or in the best way, the most important thing is that they were done, and they were doing differently. that’s the difference of the joe hills difference™️. and i think part of it just comes from joe hills naturally, i think he has a very unique and fun way of thinking and looking at the world, he makes a lot of connections with things like wordplay and taking things to their logical extremes just because he can. perseverance and sticking to your word are also part of the joe hills difference™️ i think.

it’s definitely a hard thing to properly express and im not sure i’ve been able to do that here so i’ll also just list a bunch of things that joe hills has done that exemplify the joe hills difference™️ to me in no particular order:

most recently, in order to spawn proof the coin box in his pinball machine, he poured a bunch of lava down the sides, to both light up the area and kill the mobs that spawn, because, quote, “torchspam is boring”

taming and breeding an absolutely insane amount of cats on empires after he was kicked out of hermitopia, because he wanted to be more fair to the hermits and he’d heard trying to get them to do things was like herding cats, so he decided to try herding cats to see if it was really that difficult. he discovered that he’s very good at herding cats

i haven’t managed to go back and watch his previous seasons yet, but during the season 7 elections he ran for dogcatcher, and tamed a lot of dogs and placed them around the shopping district and other places on the server, to create an artificial dog problem. he was the only one running

this post is getting long and i have so many more examples i want to mention so to make sure this post doesn’t just entirely become a list of joe hills difference™️ examples i’ll make a separate post and link here once i’m done

so now on to the felps square™️. the felps square™️ and the joe hills difference™️ have almost exactly the same philosophies to me. felps is mining out the felps square™️, a giant square (i think 500x500?) entirely with his own pickaxe, no create machines, no potions, no beacons, no enchantments, only him and his pickaxe. the rest of the server doesn’t understand and he’s doing it just because he can. both the joe hills difference™️ and the felps square™️ answer the question why? with why not? the felps square™️ is not efficient or done in the smartest way, because then it wouldn’t be the felps square™️.

the only ways i think that they really differ is that felps doesn’t like help, and will replace the blocks of someone helps him too much, and joe hills really likes to help people, he started the hermits helping hermits and he and cleo often have to bully people, like tango, into letting them help. but for that tango wanted decked out to be done faster, he’s just bad at asking for help, so i think joe hills wouldn’t do that for felps, he would understand and respect that felps goal is to mine out the square by himself

so yeah those are my thoughts as best as i can articulate them. probs after posting this i’ll immediately have another good thought that i wish i thought of while writing this post but for now i’ll leave it here

felps would understand the joe hills difference™️ and joe hills would understand the felps square™️. do not argue with me on this one i know in my heart of hearts that it is true

[lanceeselhombre]

What are your thoughts od Autistic Keith hcs?

I love them! No two sets of hcs are alike, which makes it super fun and adds a lot of diversity!

Here are my personal autistic!Keith headcanons:

-Contrary to the beliefs of those around him, he’s very social and enjoys people.

—The miscommunication comes from the fact that he doesn’t get small talk, so when people to talk to him he gets that Blank Stare™️.

—Keith also has a bad situational stutter, so he tries not to put himself in a situation where he’ll say a word that he usually struggles with in front of strangers.

-He is very touch and sound sensitive.

—Touch sensitive does not mean touch adverse! He loves hugs and cuddling. :3

—He dislikes a lot of textures, but he can deal well. The only two that he can NOT handle are his own finger prints against each other and textured plastic.

—Keith loves soft and smooth, cool things.

——Thermal blankets and clothes are his absolute favorite. Slime and stressballs are a close second.

—When it comes to sounds, he is actually sensitive to the pitch, not the volume.

——He could literally sit next to a speaker playing some base at max volume but would cringe at someone clinking a glass in the next room over.

-Keith is also taste sensitive, but everything he’s ever tried is sensory heaven instead of hell.

—Except for cooked mushrooms. They are his worst enemy.

-His sense of balance, body awareness, and smell are extremely undersensitive.

—As a result he loves spinning, G-forces, negative G-forces, being upside down, and pressure.

—He walks into literally everything but doesn’t feel the pain of the impact, which causes many bruises he can’t recall getting.

-While going through the foster care system, he learned to suppress his stims, so he doesn’t consciously engage in them.

—BUT he very frequently stims while thinking, speaking, eating- basically anything that takes his focus away from what his body is doing.

——His favorite stims include: tapping his lips with his thumb, flappy hands, head shaking or twitching, and echolalia.

-Keith 100% has visual and auditory processing disorder.

—Lance: Hey man, Wanna spar? I’ve been practicing with my sword-

Keith, trying to hear what he’s saying: Hey man, finna spit on Sven crackling worlds?

Keith, internally: What the actual fu-

Keith, out loud: Sure.

—He once woke up in the middle of the night and stared at his helmet for hours because he couldn’t decide if it was a snake or not.

——His brain only figured it out after Shiro came to save him and put the helmet on his head.

—I can totally see him hearing his own breathing and mistaking it for another person even though he’s alone.

——Keith: breathes

Keith, holding a knife, convinced it was a spy in his ceiling: I won’t hesitate

-He rarely melts down or shuts down. There has to be a LOT going on or one really bad trigger to set him off.

—That being said, he can easily get overwhelmed and can spend most of his day like that if he isn’t paying attention to himself.

——That also being said, he is one of those autistics that can’t tell if he’s hungry/thirsty/overwhelmed unless he really thinks about it.

—He doesn’t have a tendency towards meltdowns or shutdowns.

——When he melts down he cries and goes completely nonverbal.

——During a shutdown he is still somewhat in control and can react normally, but also goes nonverbal.

-Keith isn’t good at making jokes or understanding them, but he is the King of perfectly timed references.

—The team: *talking about experiences they’ve had while camping*

The team: *pauses*

Keith: So, this one time at band camp-

-He is hyper empathetic but horrible at expressing it as sympathy.

[themarcusmoreno]

My heart. Mi amor. You have once again wrote a beautiful piece and I hate it took so long for me to read it because it’s was INCREDIBLE. I admittedly don’t know much about Tommy, other than him being Joel’s brother and what Joel says about him, but you painted him so well that I feel like I know him better now even if it’s just a little bit. If that gif wasn’t beautiful enough, you just added your words to it and made the man in the gif come to life even more. I can’t wait to see what else you have in store for him! As always, I have my comment pieces selected and I’m going to drop them now - (even though I already gave you my thoughts and feelings).

While he may share your bed at night, this wasn’t his home. Not entirely. The drawer you emptied for him only held a flannel or two—mainly for you to use—but nothing essential remained. At night his touch, his body, was yours but once morning came, they were nothing but a lingering memory that stuck to the edges of your mind. If it weren’t for his scent that still remained on the blankets—you would have thought you imagined him. || This has some much yearning and the slightest amount of heartbreak to it. It’s written so beautifully but Ow™️

It’s not like you needed him here in the morning, but waking up alone always felt hollow without him. Tommy turned your house into a space you actually found solace in, but the serenity never truly lasted. So, you were left with no other choice but to swallow the pain like it was medicine. || WHY MUST I BE HURT THIS WAY? The want for something much but not asking for it

The urge to tell Tommy what you were feeling would have normally come out sooner or later. But this feeling, this aching loneliness that ate away at the inside of your body, was something you kept to yourself. If he knew how him leaving each morning affected you, he would let the guilt fester in his heart. Because that was his weakness at the end of the day. It wasn’t you, but the feeling that his actions caused you to hurt. || *soft distant crying* I am FINE. I’m fine, I’m just crying.

Tommy stood at the stove, attempting to flip what you assume was an omelet at one point. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew his expression. The furrow of his eyebrows as he concentrated, his lips pursed in frustration when things didn’t exactly go his way. || How dare you make me fall in love with a fictional man in one paragraph! I’m imagining him with that Miller scowl that Joel often has and it’s making me very - *muffled screams*

You felt heat creep up your face at the sight of the dark hickeys that trailed down into his jeans. Last night was still a slight blur, but you could vividly recall leaving those—marking him as yours. A wild need to possess him took you over as he was sprawled out beneath your body. || I need this painted into my brain for forever. That’s just so damn good, like fvcking hell. I can see it all so vividly and ugh, so good.

Sighing against his skin, you felt him shiver beneath your touch. You know his reaction by heart now. Could practically see the way his eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the pleasure of your touch grounding him. || No thoughts, just my heart melting into a small lil puddle.

Tommy would forever be a man with a mission. Never once able to sit still long enough to not fly away, but you were the gravity holding him down. You were the reason he hadn’t left this town yet. Though he left every morning, there still remained the guarantee that no matter what, he’d return once the sun went down. Falling into your bed with whispered promises he would eventually break, and a love that was sweeter than honey. || *soft muffled crying* Why is this so good? WHY DO YOU MAKE THE MOST ACHING HURT? This isn’t even like extreme hurt but it aches so good.

The small sound of protest you let out, cut off by his lips, his hand wrapping gently around your throat to keep you there, tongue delving into your mouth with ease. Tommy knew what made you melt into his body, knew how to drag out all manner of sounds from you, and you gave in willingly. You were his to mold. His to have. || You added a hand on the throat and suddenly I am wet without water. Holy crap. I just know he likes to choke, even if it’s only a lil bit. The ownership this man shows in the smallest ways is just *muffled screaming*

If there was a place you’d want to spend forever with, it was here with him. Wrapped up in your small safe haven of just each other. No one else existed when you were with Tommy. He consumed you, yet you gave into it without question. There was no one else for you and he knew it. || How gonna have me whoreknee one second then softly crying the next. The way they both just need and want SO much.

He promised you forever without saying it and you wanted so badly for him to keep it this time. || *soft muffled crying*

“Want to eat you,” he mumbled against you, teeth closing around your earlobe and tugging. “And I eat my meals in the kitchen.” || The way I just gasped so loud I choked on air. Sweet JESUS.

He groaned, fingers digging down to spread you, your slick practically dripping down his hand. “You sound so fuckin’ pretty when you beg. Alright honey, I got you.” || *loud muffled screaming*

He made you fall in love with his laughs, his jokes, but he owned you with his lips—his hands that spread you open, revealing you to his eyes. || Well now I’m falling in love with him so damn. You just know he’s a man who knows what he wants and takes it but also loves and cherishes it all the same. I love to see it!

You watched his eyes light up, his lips parting into a smile so big you felt it in your chest. There it was. The reason Tommy could call your heart his. You met him unexpectedly and before you knew it…he had you with that smile alone. He was the one you could call home, the one you saw yourself spending forever with. If only you knew that Tommy felt the exact same way—that the small little box tucked away in his jacket pocket was burning a hole right through his heart at this very moment. || *soft muffled crying* I’m not crying, YOU’RE CRYING!

Glancing down, you caught sight of him thrusting his hips against the floor, desperate to get himself there and that did it. || I can’t help but love a man that loves pleasuring his woman so much that it damn near drives him wild.

I absolutely loved every bit of this fic. The spice, the scene setting and just the way you practically placed me right there in the fic. That’s a part of your writing I always love because I feel myself in the scene so well. It was beautiful, bb 🖤

IT WILL COME BACK

a/n: this man won the poll and in all honesty, i couldn't stop myself from writing for tommy miller. have you seen him? he's fine as fuck. which resulted in this. in my head i will just make this a small collection of drabbles compiled on a masterlist. so after this i'll reblog prompts you can request more from that tie into this fic. since i have my joel series going i won't make this a full series (yet). either way i hope you enjoy.

summary: mornings in the kitchen with him made life worthwhile.

word count: 4.1k+

pairing: pre-outbreak tommy miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, oral (f receiving), floor sex, p in v sex (not really though), spitting, tommy miller being a little shit, fluff, romance.

Sunlight attempted to break through your curtains; the sheer white blocking anything but the warmth. You felt it creep along the bed, encasing you in a bundle of blankets that trapped the sun’s glow. Shifting to your side, you expected to feel him there. Feel the broad expanse of his chest as you reached out with still closed eyes.

You found nothing but the cold sheets instead.

The first thing that ran through your mind as your eyes fluttered open, was that he must have woken up early enough to head out to work. It would explain why you never heard him leave. While he may share your bed at night, this wasn’t his home. Not entirely.

The drawer you emptied for him only held a flannel or two—mainly for you to use—but nothing essential remained. At night his touch, his body, was yours but once morning came, they were nothing but a lingering memory that stuck to the edges of your mind. If it weren’t for his scent that still remained on the blankets—you would have thought you imagined him.

With a sigh, you sat up. The sheets pooled at your waist, exposing your bare chest. It’s not like you needed him here in the morning, but waking up alone always felt hollow without him. Tommy turned your house into a space you actually found solace in, but the serenity never truly lasted. So, you were left with no other choice but to swallow the pain like it was medicine.

When in fact it was poisoning you slowly; Tommy simply remained your antidote.

Searching through the drawer, you pulled out one of his flannels. More than happy to be wrapped up in his scent.

Eventually, the time would come when you would have to go about your day, and the memory of last night would shift into becoming just that. A memory. But for now you basked in the afterglow that still stuck to your skin.

The urge to tell Tommy what you were feeling would have normally come out sooner or later. But this feeling, this aching loneliness that ate away at the inside of your body, was something you kept to yourself. If he knew how him leaving each morning affected you, he would let the guilt fester in his heart. Because that was his weakness at the end of the day. It wasn’t you, but the feeling that his actions caused you to hurt.

You found that it was better to keep him in the dark, than to burden him with something that would ultimately change the trajectory of your relationship. It was easier this way. Or at least that was a belief you continued to tell yourself. You loved him, this he knew, and he loved you all the same. But the future was a topic that terrified you enough to keep it hidden until things could one day be different.

The scent of coffee filled the bedroom. You figured the timer on the machine must have gone off, starting the brew. That became your alarm most days, the aroma of a good cup of coffee usually pulled you out of bed faster than an alarm.

Tightening the flannel around your bare body, you made your way downstairs, instantly regretting forgetting your slippers as your feet connected with the cold hardwood floors. You wouldn’t be down here long, ready to grab a cup of coffee and crawl back into the safety of your blankets. Yet the sound of a crooning southern voice playing softly in the background and someone humming along, stopped you in the doorway of the kitchen.

Tommy stood at the stove, attempting to flip what you assume was an omelet at one point. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew his expression. The furrow of his eyebrows as he concentrated, his lips pursed in frustration when things didn’t exactly go his way.

“Good morning,” you said, drawing his attention away from the catastrophe on the stove.

He turned, his chest and stomach on display. You felt heat creep up your face at the sight of the dark hickeys that trailed down into his jeans. Last night was still a slight blur, but you could vividly recall leaving those—marking him as yours. A wild need to possess him took you over as he was sprawled out beneath your body. Other times you would feel the slight tinge of embarrassment creep into your mind, but you knew he loved it.

“You’re up,” he responded, his eyes dragging down the expanse of your bare legs. His flannel only covered so much—leaving you open and free for him to admire. “I was making you breakfast.” His tongue swept along his bottom lip. You wondered if you left a slight bruise from where you had sucked it into your mouth.

“Smells good.”

He smiled, turning back to flip off the burner. “Smells like burnt shit, but thanks for lying.”

Moving around the table, you slid your hands up his back, lips pressing to his shoulder and suddenly…the ache disappeared. Retreating to the far reaches of your mind, giving you the peace you needed. Sighing against his skin, you felt him shiver beneath your touch. You know his reaction by heart now. Could practically see the way his eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the pleasure of your touch grounding him.

Tommy would forever be a man with a mission. Never once able to sit still long enough to not fly away, but you were the gravity holding him down. You were the reason he hadn’t left this town yet. Though he left every morning, there still remained the guarantee that no matter what, he’d return once the sun went down. Falling into your bed with whispered promises he would eventually break, and a love that was sweeter than honey.

“I thought you had work this morning,” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist, his hands shifting to rest over yours.

“Called Joel while you were asleep. Told him I’d be coming late.”

You hummed, hand dragging slowly down his stomach. “I bet he wasn’t happy about that.”

The soft huff of laughter he let out made your heart beat just a bit quicker. But it was the soft groan that rumbled in his chest as your hand dipped into his jeans, that had a fresh wave of slick pooling out of you. He was already hard, his cock heavy in your hand as you slowly palmed him. The realization made you throb, the heady dizziness of lust rushing over you. Wrapping your hand around his length, you felt him twitch, dragging another grunt from him.

If you had the time, you’d drop to your knees for him there in the kitchen. Make him see stars the way he did to you last night. But Joel was an impatient man when it came to Tommy. You knew he only had barely an hour tops and you wanted him inside you before the time ran out.

He turned quickly, forcing you to let go of him. The small sound of protest you let out, cut off by his lips, his hand wrapping gently around your throat to keep you there, tongue delving into your mouth with ease. Tommy knew what made you melt into his body, knew how to drag out all manner of sounds from you, and you gave in willingly. You were his to mold. His to have.

“Baby,” he breathed, his fingers digging into your ass, dragging you closer. “I can feel you soakin’ my jeans.”

A wet moan was pressed to his jaw. Your hips rolled over his denim clad thigh that was slotted between your legs. You knew you were leaving a wet spot on the fabric—that he’d have to wear these jeans to work probably—but you couldn’t care. Not when you felt the fabric catch on your clit, sending a shock through your body.

“Want you,” you gasped, nails digging into his chest. “I need you inside me.”

He moaned, hips grinding against yours. You felt him pull down his flannel, cupping your breast in his palm, thumb running over your peaked nipple, before he dipped down and took it into his mouth. Gasping, your head fell back, hips rolling over his leg even faster as the pleasure continued to mount in your body. Heat spilling into every part of you, burning you from the inside out.

“Tommy.”

He groaned as you pulled at his curls, dragging his lips back to yours. If there was a place you’d want to spend forever with, it was here with him. Wrapped up in your small safe haven of just each other. No one else existed when you were with Tommy. He consumed you, yet you gave into it without question. There was no one else for you and he knew it.

Dragging the piece of fabric off your body, his calloused palms ran along your skin, sending a shiver through your body at his light touch. You whimpered, barely able to open your eyes due to the dizziness clouding your mind. He smiled at your reaction, eyes dark with lust and yet somehow within the brown, you saw the light he had within. The light you ached for.

There he was, pouring it into you with each kiss pressed to your skin. He promised you forever without saying it and you wanted so badly for him to keep it this time.

“Take me upstairs baby,” you breathed into his mouth, hand feeling his stomach clench as you pressed your palm to his hot skin.

He shook his head. “Can’t do that ma’am.”

“What?” Pulling back, you felt him smile against your throat, his teeth sinking into your skin a moment later. “W-why?” you rasped, fingers curling around his hair in an effort to grasp onto something stable.

“Want to eat you,” he mumbled against you, teeth closing around your earlobe and tugging. “And I eat my meals in the kitchen.”

If it were any other time and his fingers weren’t inching towards your aching clit, you would have laughed. Told him he was an idiot in the most loving voice you could muster—your emotions bubbling over with a single look from him. But before you could get the word out, his fingers circled your clit, causing you to sag into his hold. You buried your head into his neck, your cry muffled against his skin as he built the rapidly growing pressure in your stomach.

“You gonna come for me honey?” You nodded, hips rolling over his thigh faster in an attempt to get there, to feel the hot bliss wash over your skin. “I know you want to.”

“Tommy,” you panted, nails digging into his shoulder. “Please.”

He groaned, fingers digging down to spread you, your slick practically dripping down his hand. “You sound so fuckin’ pretty when you beg. Alright honey, I got you.”

You keened when he pressed you down harder on his thigh, guiding you through the small stunted thrusts. Vaguely you were aware of how much time was passing, but the worry that he’d leave soon was washed from your mind the second he pinched your clit between his fingers. You sobbed into his neck, eyes rolling back as the dam finally broke, your body going taut—pleasure flooding you. It practically spilled out of you, overwhelming every part of your being, and Tommy kept going.

He pushed and pulled your hips, dragging you along his thigh and smearing your cum along the fabric until they were good and ruined. The pleasure continued to build, burning so hot inside you that you could barely see straight. If you weren’t careful you wouldn’t be able to find a way back to yourself, but maybe that’s what he wanted. Maybe he wanted to ruin you so perfectly, you’d never be the same after him.

Although who were you kidding. There’d never be anything after Tommy.

“Oh god oh god,” you chanted, your withering moan being swallowed by his lips colliding with yours.

Spit trailed down your chin as he pulled away. The two of you combined; you expected him to wipe it away. Only he smeared it across your cheek, his dark eyes following his thumb as it dragged along your skin.

“On the floor,” he said, his voice gruff and thick with lust.

Even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t have been able to deny him. Your mind had settled into that sweet spot of numbness that allowed him to maneuver your body in any way he pleased. Without realizing it, you found yourself spread on the kitchen floor, his flannel now parted to reveal the expanse of your naked body. A sight that Tommy was indulging himself in.

“So damn beautiful,” he murmured, his hand trailing up your waist, fingers stroking the side of your breast. “And all fuckin’ mine.”

Your body jolted, a shaky breath leaving you as he dropped down your body. Lips kissing and teeth biting along your hips—the dichotomy of pleasure and pain turning the molten burn into a raging fire. If there’s one thing you could expect with Tommy it was this. The softness that came with his touch.

He made you fall in love with his laughs, his jokes, but he owned you with his lips—his hands that spread you open, revealing you to his eyes.

“Baby,” you sighed as he pulled your legs up and over his shoulders, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“Yeah honey?”

The small word brought a smile to your lips. “Love you.”

You watched his eyes light up, his lips parting into a smile so big you felt it in your chest. There it was. The reason Tommy could call your heart his. You met him unexpectedly and before you knew it…he had you with that smile alone. He was the one you could call home, the one you saw yourself spending forever with. If only you knew that Tommy felt the exact same way—that the small little box tucked away in his jacket pocket was burning a hole right through his heart at this very moment.

“I love you so damn much,” he said, placing a kiss on your inner thigh.

The clock that hung on the kitchen wall taunted you, telling you that eventually your time with him would be up. That he’d get up, go to work, and leave nothing but the pleasurable ache between your thighs and sore bites up and down your skin. You wanted to capture this moment in your hands, to hold it close when he left. But all you could do was remain in it—savor his touch, his lingering love that burned you slowly, sensually.

The first lick of his tongue through your pussy sent a jolt up your body. You gasped, hips canting up slightly to meet his mouth as he moaned into you. Tommy was insatiable when it came to you, this became clear early on in your relationship. What you didn’t know was how enamored he was with your taste. How he craved you constantly. You learned quickly that if you didn’t cut him off, Tommy would spend hours between your thighs.

His lips attached to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and causing your head to fall back against the floor with a soft thud. Sparks littered up your spine, a broken sob of his name echoing off the kitchen walls. You were thankful the floor was so cold, because you were currently overheated, your body desperate for some balance to the madness.

“F-fuck,” you gasped, eyes falling shut, hand digging into his unruly curls. “You’re so good. I’m–fuck Tommy.” Your words broke off into a whine, his tongue pressing against your entrance.

He lost himself, the taste of you becoming an addiction he couldn’t get rid of, but at the end of the day…he wouldn’t want to. His nails scraped along your thighs as he moaned into your pussy, his hips grinding into the floor to appease the need he felt growing. Licking into you, he watched your mouth drop open in a silent sob, your legs shaking with each flick of his tongue along your clit. You wouldn’t last long, he knew this. 

Except he was adamant to remain here with you, unwilling to leave until he felt you gush into his mouth.

Lifting his head, he heard your broken whines of protest echo in the air. The small beg to have him keep going caused his cock to throb painfully in his jeans. You were beautiful like this. Incoherent with pleasure and body covered with a sheen of sweat that made you glow in the early morning sunlight. He grinned, licking at his bottom lip, resembling a starved man desperate for another taste of his meal.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, shifting up swiftly to press his lips against yours. Sharing your taste as he licked deeply into your mouth. “My pretty baby.”

“I want you inside me,” you begged, hips bucking up to grind against his. “Please Tommy, need you to fill me—” He cut you off with a sharp gasp, his fingers sliding through your spit slicked pussy.

“‘M not done honey.”

The beg was on the tip of your tongue, another plea to hopefully convince him of what you both wanted. Him spitting into your pussy lewdly cut you off. Your eyes rolled back, his tongue spreading his spit up to your clit, fingers prodding at your entrance. The plea died in your throat—an incoherent cry of his name overtaking as his fingers curled into you, finding the spot along your walls without trying.

Tommy knew your body well enough to notice the signs. The way your legs trembled, how your walls clamped down around his fingers. You were right on the edge and he wanted to see you fly off. Moaning against your pussy one more time, he scraped his teeth gently along your clit, fingers rubbing against your g-spot in quick movements. The pleasure once again built, mind growing hazy with it as he continued to push you until you were right there.

Glancing down, you caught sight of him thrusting his hips against the floor, desperate to get himself there and that did it. You snapped, brokenly sobbing his name as your hips grinded against his mouth. He let you use him, doing his best to continue stimulating you, the wet sound of his fingers thrusting into your pussy now echoing through the room.

Pleasure filled you, burning its way through your body until you could do nothing but silently scream. You tried to catch your breath, but it was stuck—lodged in your chest—forcing you to take in gasps of air. All the way through, Tommy continued to lick and suck at your clit, grunting with each thrust of his hips. He was aching for you, nearly on the edge but unable to fully finish.

“Taste so fuckin’ good honey,” he mumbled drunkenly into your pussy, his eyes shut and mind in a state of delirium. “Shit—” The button of jeans knocked against the floor, his forehead falling to rest on your hip.

“Tommy,” you breathed, fingers curling around his arm and trying to tug him up your body. But not before he kissed above your clit, licking one last time into you.

His hand slapped against the floor above your head, tongue pushing your cum into your mouth and sending a shiver through your body. Even as your shaky hands dipped into his jeans, pulling him out, he still asked to keep tasting you. That’s how things worked in his mind. Seeing you cum was worth more to him than getting off himself.

“Want you to cum,” you mumbled into his mouth, tilting your hips up and notching his cock at your entrance.

“Fuck honey.” He gasped, as you started to fuck yourself on the very tip of his cock, his hand moving down to keep himself steady. “You want me to fill you up?”

You nodded, whining his name against his cheek. “Need it baby.”

Pumping himself in quick strokes, he felt his balls draw up—the tightening in his abdomen nearly causing him to double over. It wouldn’t take him long at all; his release already having built as he ate you out. The feeling of your hand moving to cup his balls did him in. With a hoarse shout he felt something break inside of himself, your walls clamping down around his cock as he finally pushed himself into your pussy.

You sighed at the warm feeling of his cum spurting along your walls, filling you until it dripped down and smeared along your thighs. But nothing compared to the sight of Tommy lost in his own bliss. His mouth dropped open, eyebrows pulling tight as a flush of red took over his face and chest. It would take him a while to come back to you, his mind buzzing from having cum so hard.

With a contented sigh, he pressed the rest of his weight on you. “I’m definitely not making it now,” he mumbled, smiling against your chest.

“I don’t need Joel banging on my front door,” you replied, shoving lightly at his shoulder.

He laughed, teeth sinking into the top of your breast, his cock twitching inside of you. “I’ll call him and tell him…”

“Hey sorry I can’t come in today. Got too busy fucking my girlfriend on the kitchen floor.”

“Perfect.”

“Tommy!”

His head raised, smile pulling so wide you could see the slight crinkle in the corner of his eyes. “I’ll say it in a nicer way.”

“You’ll tell him nothing at all.” You cupped his cheek, lips sliding against his softly. “You will get up, wash your jeans, get another cup of coffee, and get out of here before we incur the wrath of the other Miller.”

He sighed into your mouth. “I don’t want to go.”

Your heart twisted in your chest, the reminder of time once again filling you with a dread you could never escape. Neither of you wanted to part, too wrapped up in what could be. But eventually you would have to open your eyes and see what this was. Just two people who loved each other too much to give this their all. A pattern that would never stop.

“I don’t want you to go,” you admitted, finally letting that painful ache be seen by him.

“Then I won’t—”

“You have to.”

Tommy’s eyes searched yours, trying to find something in him he could fight for. Something that would assure him of that single question still residing on the tip of his tongue. He wanted forever with you. Wanted a house together, a dog or cat, the life that he watched his parents once have. He wanted you.

Before he could stop himself, his mouth was moving.

“I want to marry you.”

Your eyes went wide, heart beating rapidly in your chest. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Silence passed between you for a brief moment, the shock now being replaced with a sinking feeling. He wouldn’t be saying this if it were a different scenario. In fact you were certain that he wouldn’t even go near this topic on any other day.

“This is just the heat of the moment talking, Tommy,” you said, in an attempt to save yourself from the pain.

His eyes narrowed. “No it’s not.”

“You’re still inside me! You shouldn’t be saying this unless you’re sure that—” His hips grinding into yours cut you off as you gasped.

“You want me down on one knee I’ll do that honey. Want me to give you romance and dinner and everything in between? I’ll do it. But you’ve got to know I’m more serious now than I have ever been.”

“Tomm—”

“Before you can continue your argument—which I’ll let ya—let me go get the ring.”

Your jaw snapped shut, breath catching in your chest at the sight of his grin. “You…you have a ring?”

“Yes honey. I do.”

“Y–You’re serious?”

He nodded, his thumb brushing the top of your cheek. “I want forever with you. If you’ll have me.”

If you listened hard enough, you would have been able to hear your heart burst. The ache now vanished the longer you looked him in the eyes to see the truth. It was there you found it. Small hints of a future that you yearned for was now being offered to you and this time the promise he made would stick. Laughing, you pulled him down for a kiss, your legs hiking over his hips to keep him there with you.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” he asked, parting from you long enough to simply give you another chaste kiss.

This time it was your turn to nod, tears already streaming down your face. “Yes Tommy. I’ll have you. Forever.”

[naturenaruto]

theyre really trying it with the whole "let women / sexworkers do what they want" like theyre really trying to make sex work be about freedom which is dangerous considering the vast majority of sexworkers actually do not have freedom bc the vast majority of sexworkers were kidnapped and forced into the sex trade, either as children teenager or adult, the vast majority of them are not publicly on the internet trying (or being paid/told/forced) to make sex work into a ~freedom~ thing.

the vast majority of sexworkers would be doing something else if they had the chance, people like in the tweet seem like theyre trying to normalize selling a person into sex work for money, especialy for something as crass as buying a fuckin toy for a bf, which isnt survival sex work its trying to tell (specifically young women/teen girls) that sex work can be Cool n Funky and All About Freedom™️ and yay!!!11 you can buy ur awesome boyfrienn fun gifts that he totally doesnt need or could buy himself but as long as ur like so tottally chill with selling your body then likeeee,,,yeyyy bf will like totatlly luv u for it and youl be the cool chill girlfiriend™️ that makes her own cash and doesnt need a man yaaaaayyyyyyyyy~~~~

like support sex workers and their safety, independence, and their own free will but understand shit like this is straight up intentional propoganda to normalize the sex trade to such an extent that girls (and anyone really but obviously its mostly directed at girls) will grow up thinking 'hey i can snap a few pics and sell them and then go buy whatever i want yay~~' and its like but they dont really know what theyre getting into, and its extremely dangerous to callously suggest sex work is easy and chill~~ because its not and the vast majority of sex workers do not live a carefree luxury lifestyle thats being pushed on the surface of the internet its not really like that this is bait intentionally set out there to entrap ppl into the trade which by and large is actualy sex slavery bc the vast majority of them cannot get out once theyre in so it might start with surface level stuff like posting a few pics for quick cash but these ppl might not know what theyre getting into and it can lead to entrapment and slavery (they call it trafficking but the actual real word for what it is is slavery) like the no contact photos/videos/online only type of sexwork is not the norm and its a trap and theres nothing equality or feminist or freedom about people being exploited and before anyone says oh but every worker is exploited okay go ask someone whos been in the sex trade for a while if theyd rather have never been put in and wouldve rather had a regular job, just go ask the ones who arent pushing the new narrative what the reality is really like instead of conflating freedom and feminism with being sold and exploited

other ppl will see shit like this and go aww yayy a supportive boyfriend!!

men👏🏻supporting👏🏻women👏🏻yesssssss👏🏻👏🏻 and theyll see it and go wow shes miss independent wow shes living her own life wow shes got her own money but that money comes from exploitation within an evil global industry that is based on slavery and misery, and her individual situation, whatever it is, is probably not what the vast majority of sex workers are experiencing.

these are intentional public traps set to make sexwork seem like a chill thing that you can do for quick cash and 'oh yay u can still have a boyfriend! and a good one wil be supportive!! and u can buy him things!!!'

its a trap this isnt reality for most sex workers, they want you conflating this with feminism but theres nothing feminist about the sex trade