#now i've come to realize those feelings never went away i just blocked them out

[mountainsandmayhem]

Aisle Amore

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: You truly never know who you might meet in the grocery store. CW: no smut, all fluff. Flirting, mention of divorce, talks of food, more adorable flirting. Word Count: 3.4k AN: I've gone soft!! I couldn't stop thinking about how the couple in Wonderful Tonight and Netflix & Chill met and even though no one asked, this is exactly how they met. I worked in a grocery store for almost 15 years and I can tell you right now that I would to SPRINTING to the pasta aisle. Special thank you to @mermaidgirl30 for beta reading and both her and @littlevenicebitch69 for helping me come up with a title. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

To you, there’s nothing worse than asking for help. You’ve been fiercely independent your entire life, and these snapped ligaments have been testing you. Your friends say they don’t mind helping, but YOU mind them helping. The pain in your ankle has finally subsided enough that you can put a little weight on it and only use one crutch.

Freedom! 

You shut your laptop at 6 pm, change into something that isn’t pyjama pants and begrudgingly put on a bra. The first stop on your newly found freedom tour is the grocery store. Thirteen year old you would be appalled at how excited you are over this. You jot down all the ingredients you’ll need to make homemade pasta, marinara sauce and meatballs. 

Living in downtown DC has lots of perks, one of them being you can walk to the grocery store that’s just around the block. After gingerly testing your ankles a few times you decide you can walk there. Your dad’s voice echoes through your head, “This family doesn’t cry, take care of yourself, don’t depend on anyone but you”. 

The walk there is easy, it feels good to be out in the summer evening sun, soaking in the vitamin D that you’ve been missing out on the last few weeks. You grab one of those small baskets with wheels and head into the store. It might be dramatic, but it’s been almost three weeks since you’ve been out on your own and you feel that same hyped elation you had at 16 when you got your license and your parents allowed you to go out on your own the first time. Except at 16 you picked up your friends and went to the record store, you were much cooler in your youth. 

“Stick to the list,” you say to yourself, realizing you’re slowly becoming just like your mother. That’s fucking depressing. 

The first items are olive oil and flour, you crutch along, the sounds of metal clicking and the rubber bottom squeaking following you as you move along the shiny white tile floor. A song you vaguely remember hearing during your childhood plays overhead, Eric Clapton singing about a woman looking lovely. The bakery must have fresh bread, and the delicious scent of it makes your mouth water. 

Focus! 

As you turn down the pasta aisle, you brush past a man in a suit who’s looking at the canned pasta sauces, poor sap, and stop about ten feet away from him. The small bag of flour you need is on an easily accessible shelf but of course, there’s only one left and it’s all the way at the back. 

Marcus holds up a jar of canned marinara, silently humming along to Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. He swears he hears his grandmother on his mother’s side rolling in her grave. She wasn’t Italian, but owned a restaurant and was definitely looking down at him ashamed that he was BUYING something she taught him to make.

Sorry grams, he thinks, just as someone hobbles past him, vanilla wafting behind her, temporarily replacing the scent of the fresh bread he’s also going to pick up. His grandmother might come back just to slap him for this dinner tonight. Granted, he did just return from seeing his ex and her new boyfriend so maybe she’d take pity on him. Bake him those gooey chocolate chip cookies he loved so much. 

As he turns to head toward the pasta he sees a woman who quite frankly takes his breath away. She’s so beautiful that he almost can’t take her all in at once. Her bare legs are toned and tanned, wrapped in long black biker shorts, paired with a plain grey t-shirt and unzipped black hoodie. One high top converse laced up on one foot, the other in an uncomfortable looking boot. Her hair is in a low messy bun with almost too perfectly placed pieces along her neck and face. She seems to invade every ounce of him, until all he can see is her and all he can smell is warm vanilla. His mouth goes dry, and his heartbeat fills his ears. 

This next bit happens so quickly that he doesn’t have time to even think about it. But you would later describe it as not one of your finest moments, and he would describe it as the moment that changed his life. 

He watches as you reach above your head, raising up on the tippy toe of your good foot. As you lean forward, your hollow aluminum crutch slips out from underneath you and falls to the ground. An echoing tinny bang startles you and you stumble, putting too much pressure on your broken foot. The sweetest sounding “Ouch! Motherfucker,” leaves your pouty pink lips as Marcus rushes to catch you. 

“Whoa,” he says as he reaches out to steady you, one hand wrapping around your hip, the other cupping your elbow, helping you off your injured leg. “Are you ok?” 

Your cheeks flush as you look up at him. “Sorry, thank you.” 

Your bright blue eyes wash over him, and something tugs behind his heart. Eric Clapton singing "Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight" as he stands there temporarily stunned, unsure of where he is or what is name is. It's just you.

It doesn’t make any sense, you could be married for all he knows, but something about you draws him in. He didn’t think he’d feel this way again for a very long time, but he needs to find a way to keep talking to you. 

“Let me get that for you,” he says, his hand moving from your elbow, reaching up and easily plucking the flour off the shelf. 

“Thanks, I could have gotten it.” You say and he fights to stop from laughing. He can tell that you’re not someone who asks for help. No, you’re independent and strong willed. And fuck if that doesn’t just make that tug behind his heart pull that much harder. 

“I know you can, you just scared me.” He looks down at you softly as you stare up at him. 

He’s suddenly very aware that he still has one hand on your hip. Your shirt had ridden up as you wobbled, and the skin of your hip is soft and warm against his palm. He finds himself wondering if the rest of you is just as comforting. Just as an inviting. The light scent of your vanilla perfume fills the small space between the two of you. 

“Look,” he says, finding it inside himself to peel his hand off you now that you’re steady, placing your flour in your basket and bending to grab your crutch. “My grandma is already cursing me from heaven for buying canned sauce and boxed pasta. Can you please let me help you?” 

You open your mouth and then close it, almost like you’re trying to come up with a reason to not let him, so he quickly adds, “For my sake.” 

You laugh through your nose, shaking your head and taking your crutch from this incredibly handsome stranger. 

Please don’t be married. Or a total creep. 

“Smooth,” you say teasingly. 

He tugs at his white button up shirt collar. “Is it hot in here?" He fakes a dramatic cough, "I swear - she’s watching me.” 

You look up at the white painted ceiling of the grocery store. “OK, grandma. Chill. I’ll let him help me.” 

When you look back at him he’s smiling from ear to ear, and if you thought he was handsome before; well, fuck, there’s not even a word to describe how unbelievably charming he looks right now. 

He looks down at your basket before saying, “Do you have a big list?” 

“Umm,” you say holding out the special lined paper you have to make grocery lists. “I have a few things, ya.” 

His thick fingers brush lightly against yours as he takes the list. You can’t help but notice that he’s not wearing a wedding ring, score, his nails are trimmed short and his cuticles are nicely manicured. You assume he must have some sort of fancy office job, like a lawyer or an accountant. He seems to radiate stability and you didn't realize you could be so aroused by fingers.

“Are you making pasta? And sauce?” He asks as his brown doe eyes scan your list. 

“I am,” you say proudly. You might not be a world famous chef, but you take pride in your cooking abilities. 

He smiles back at you again. “Stay here,” he says softly, “I’m gonna grab a cart.” 

As he turns to walk away, taking your basket and his sauce with him, you notice the way his grey suit jacket clings to his broad shoulders. Accountant by day, muscle model by night? Muscle model? Great, he’s broken your brain. 

It doesn’t take long before you hear the distinct rumbling of the plastic wheels of a shopping cart heading your way. Just as your handsome stranger comes back into the aisle “At Last” by Etta James starts to play. 

“I’m Marcus, by the way,” he says, grabbing a box of pasta on the shelf and sitting it next to his sauce in the top part of the cart. 

You say your name and notice the tiniest glint in his eye as the sound of it wraps around him. “Well then, we’d better get going on this list.” 

He moves slowly, allowing you to set the walking pace. He’s taken your list and the entire thing feels almost too domestic, like you can envision yourself doing this every weekend with him for the rest of your lives. Maybe there would even be a kid in that little part where he puts his boxed pasta and canned sauce. 

“Alright, so we covered names and who grew up where. So, what do you do for a living?” You ask, snatching a bottle of olive oil off the shelf. 

“I - uh - I work in law enforcement,” he says. 

You look at him, then his tie, then back at him. With a hint of amusement in your voice you say, “Pretty fancy dress code. What are you? Like FBI or something.” 

“Yes, actually. And now that you know that, I miiiight have to kill you.” 

You laugh, “Sure know how to put a girl at ease, Agent Pike.” 

The way you say agent, all teasing and flirty, goes straight to his cock. He’s been called Agent Pike thousands of times over his career but it’s never sent a shiver down his body like that before. 

He runs a hand over his patchy scruff. “I’m kidding. About the killing part, not the FBI part.” 

“Thanks for clarifying,” you laugh.

Whitney Houston’s voice floats across the store, singing about dancing with someone who loves her. 

Neither of you is particularly paying attention to your list or what aisle you’re in. You snake up and down each aisle, both of you occasionally grabbing something you need. 

“What about you?” He asks. Something about the way he asks a question seems different. It’s like when Marcus asks something he’s genuinely asking, not just trying to force conversation. With every answer you give his eyes focus on yours, he nods and seems curious and excited to hear what you have to say. 

The bar is truly in hell if I’m turned on by a man who’s just treating me like a human. 

“I run a small online store for my, umm, for my designs.” This part is always awkward, men change how they treat you once they find out what you do for a living. You avoid his eyes, he’s so goddamn handsome and you’re already disappointed that he’ll soon give you an ick with how he’ll respond to your career, how all men respond. 

“Your designs? Are you an artist?” His eyes light up and he stands a little taller when he asks, he must love art. He’s going to be thrilled to find out your best friend owns a gallery, and probably even more thrilled when he learns you hurt your ankle falling off a step ladder she had you posing on as she painted you, and yes, you were completely nude. 

“No,” you laugh. “I design clothing. Sort of.” You continue avoiding his eyes and chew on the inside of your cheek as you grab some dried oregano and place it in the basket. 

“Hey,” he says softly, stopping by the spices, “You don’t have to tell me something you don’t want me to know.” 

“It’s not that. It’s just,” you stop, glancing up at his warm chocolate brown eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, and you have the sudden urge to sink your teeth into his neck. “Men just usually treat me differently once they know.” 

He narrows his eyes at you and his lips curl into a tight lipped and curious smile. “That’s clickbait. Now you have to tell me.” 

“Or you’ll kill me?” You laugh. 

“Yes, FBI remember,” he says sarcastically. 

You take a deep breath through your nose before you begin. “Ok, I design and sell lingerie.” You try to sound as casual as possible, smiling sweetly at him before you start walking again. 

Marcus doesn’t follow along so you look over your shoulder at him. Is he blushing? 

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes. “I don’t see how that would make someone treat you differently.” 

“Then why are you blushing, Pike?” You flutter your lashes at him as he catches up to you in the aisle. 

The pink of his cheeks deepened, “I’m not blushing. Pretty sure I got a sunburn when I grabbed the cart.” 

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard that being indoors during sunset is a very dangerous UV time.” You joke. 

He laughs, “You’d be shocked how many people don’t believe it.” 

You both laugh as you head towards the produce department for your tomatoes and onions. Elvis’s ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ comes over the speakers, and even though other people are shopping, it feels like it’s being targeted at just the two of you. You pluck a few tomatoes from the shelf and he opens the little plastic bag for you to place them in. 

He takes a breath to start speaking and you brace yourself for the inevitable. All men do it. They all either ask what your company is called so they can look up your Instagram later or they’re bold and flat out ask you to model some of your designs for them. 

“Where’d you learn to make pasta?” He asks, his voice quivering at the closeness of your body to his. 

“Umm, I sort of did an Eat, Pray, Love thing recently.” You say quietly, smiling up at him. It’s the tiniest movement, but you swear his eyes flick to your lips as your hand brushes against his while you reach into the bag. Your heart is pounding behind your ribs, it’s almost unfair how handsome he looks under these fluorescent lights. 

“Oh? Like you went to Italy?” His voice is low and nervous as he watches you picking up tomatoes, squeezing them gently and smelling them. Carefully choosing the best ones. 

“Yes. Without spilling my whole life story, I got married young and then divorced a few years ago. I just kind of needed a hard reset on myself.” You drop two more tomatoes in the bag and then side step, or more more like side hobble, to the onions. 

“Huh,” he says, “I can honestly say that I know exactly what you mean by that.” 

You both smile at each other, you swear you can see his pulse flutter in his neck before he says, “Unfortunately, I think we have everything on your list,” he finishes off his sentence by saying your name and it sends an explosion of butterflies in your lower belly. You don’t know if you’ve ever met someone who makes you feel like you have somehow known them for your whole life but is also brand new. 

“Sorry. You probably have places to be and I’m -“ Your voice trails off when he slowly steps even further into your space. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says softly, his fingertips brushing against yours causing a buzzing up your arm. Just then ‘I knew I loved you’ by Savage Garden rains down from the speakers. Marcus laughs gently and continues, “Is it just me or has the music been interesting in here tonight?” 

You move your pointer finger just a hair so it brushes against his, “ya, sounds like the crab from The Little Mermaid is in charge.”

A laugh from his stomach passes his lips, it’s joyous and melodic and even though you’ve just met him, you want to make him laugh like that for the rest of your life. He’s smiling so big that you can see all his straight white teeth. His head tips forward slightly and the skin around his eyes crinkles. You’re both so close, he smells like mint and a new book and everything around you seems to fall away, blurring around the edges. It’s overwhelming. Dizzying even. He’s the one. You can’t explain it, but you were meant to be in this grocery, with this annoying boot and crutch. 

“That’s not quite the comparison I would have used, but yes.” His eyes dance around yours, still laced with amusement and happiness. “Is he a crab or lobster?” 

“I think he’s a crab,” you say, pulling your hand back from his to stop yourself from leaping off that cliff and into his arms.

“I think he’s a lobster,” he counters, stepping back but never breaking the connection of his eyes with yours. 

As you head towards the checkout you glance towards the shopping cart nervously, remembering that you walked here. 

Both of you pay for your groceries in a comfortable silence and he scolds you teasingly for trying to grab your bags. “Grandma is still watching.” 

The two of you head for the exit. “Did you park somewhere?” 

“No. I can take them from here,” you’re not going to let this man drive you somewhere or walk you home. That’s ridiculous. You are strong and you’ve already impeded his life enough. 

He lifts his eyebrow suspiciously and turns just a touch so you can’t reach your bags. “You walked here, didn’t you?” 

“It’s really fine, Marcus. It’s not far. Thank you for your help. You didn’t need to do that.” 

“I have an apartment that way,” he says, nodding his head in the same direction you need to go.

“Oh that’s very forward of you, but I know better than to go to a secondary location with a stranger.” And he does it again, that beautiful, happy laugh. “I’m in the same direction.” 

You walk down the quiet street. People always say they wouldn’t want to live downtown because it’s too noisy, but truthfully, after the work crowd disperses for the evening and the dinner rush parts, it’s quite peaceful. 

“How sure are you that he’s a lobster? Willing to make a bet?” 

He looks over at you cautiously. “Alright. I’ll play along. I’m 100% sure he’s a lobster. What’s the bet?” 

“Wow. Marcus Pike, does the FBI know you’re such a risk taker?” 

He says your last name and follows it with, “Quit stalling, what’s the bet.” 

“Ok ok. Once I’m off all the painkillers. If he’s a crab, I make you REAL pasta. If he’s a lobster, you take me out for real pasta.” 

You both stop at the same time in front of the same building, “This is me. So is it a bet?”

Marcus pulls a key fob out of his pocket, “This is also me. And yes, we have a bet.” 

You cross the lobby together, you select your floors and exchange phone numbers on the way up and then he finally gives you your bags. 

“Thank you,” you say, smiling at him sweetly as the elevator approaches your floor. “I appreciate you using your grandma to help me.” 

He covers his heart with his hand. “I would never!” 

As the elevator comes to a halt he glances up at you sheepishly and your heart almost breaks open right then and there at how devastatingly handsome and heart meltingly adorable he is all at the same time. 

You smile like a damn fool the moment you’re out of that elevator. Of all the ways you thought your night was going to go, it did not involve a very charming stranger making you all nervous and delusional. 

The second you get inside your apartment you fight the urge to prove yourself right and cash in on our dinner, but you already miss him, so you text him. 

Tag list:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut  @sullyrocky44 

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @littlevenicebitch69

[short-honey-badger]

Not all good comes to those who wait

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy talk and pretty sensitive subjects. Hurt/Comfort and angst. Ectopic pregnancy. You can scroll if this is too much for you.

This is something for me personally to try and get over what's been going on in my life. In the past three months, my relationship almost ended, we got evicted, and as soon as we got moved, I found out I was pregnant at the beginning of October. Last week, I found out it was an ectopic pregnancy, and I've just... not been the same since. But I miss you guys so much, so this is me trying to get past my shitty brain block the best way I know how.

Shanks knows that there is something going on when Trafalgar D. Water Law's face dims in silent sympathy while doing your evaluation. You are only a couple of weeks pregnant, having found out when you couldn't keep any of your food down over a couple of days at the beginning of the month. You had come to him with a bright smile on your beautiful face, hand held protectively over your stomach and the growing bean inside as you quietly told him the good news.

It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. The two of you would hide away in his cabin, whispering sweet words to one another while Shanks held your still-flat belly. He doted on whatever you needed, making sure that you would be comfortable and safe for the duration of your pregnancy. To make sure all went well, he had contacted the Surgeon of Death and asked if Law could come on board and give you a check-up.

With the use of his devil fruit, Law could see that the embryo had not implanted in the correct spot in your womb like it should have been. Instead, it had planted itself in your right fallopian tube. He shucked his latex gloves off and eyed you and the red-haired captain.

You could see the look on his face, and your heart plummets when you catch your lover reaching out to curl his hand around your wrist, squeezing softly as he asks Law what was going on.

Trafalgar clears his throat, tone soft as he locks eyes with you and explains what had happened. Law explains that this is an ectopic pregnancy. That the embryo isn't viable with it having attached to the incorrect part of your body and that the best course of action for your heath would be for him to remove it. He tells you that it is nothing that you have done, that it's simply a freak accident that could happen to anyone. You listen with cotton between your ears, heart shattering, not just for the bean inside you, but for yourself and Shanks.

The excitement you had felt with the check-up plummets into dispare, and you don't realize that you're crying until Shanks slips his hand from your wrist and gently wipes the tears from your cheeks. Law leaves the room to you and your lover, and you stare at him with fearful eyes.

"I don't...was it my fault? What..?"

Shanks immediately pulls you close and into his chest, lips pressed against the crown of your head as he fights back the feeling of tears gathering in his eyes. His own heart is breaking, fear and worry breaking out, and feeling heavy in his chest. He wants to rage and cry at the sea, demand why his amazing darling couldn't have the one thing the two of them had been so excited for. But you don't need that right now. You need him to he strong, so he would be.

"None of its your fault, baby," He whispers furiously and clutches you tighter when you turn to bury your face in his chest, shoulders shaking as sobs begin to overwhelm you. You wrap an arm around your stomach, grief clouding your brain for a child that you would never get the chance to know.

"I've got you, baby. Whatever happens, I'll never let you go," Shanks whispers, and you latch onto his words, eyes clenched shut in pain. You listen to him whisper sweet reassurances and know that slowly, and with time, that you would be okay.

You pull away just enough that Shanks can dip down and seal his lips over your own, his lashes wet with unshed tears. He would make sure that you would pull through. He would be the rock that you needed.

*Ectopic pregnancies are tough, and I hope that this can help someone else know that none of it is your fault. If there is anyone out there that just needs a shoulder to cry on or a kind word, please feel free to message me.*

[bil-daddy]

hi mr bildad um im just gonna dump this here since i have no one else to talk to

as someone who has always praised in their ability to be friends with anyone (i also need human interaction to survive btw) ive been feeling very lonely, especially since now are the school holidays.

my best friend (who is one year older than me) is barely online and doesn't take me seriously enough. and when i ask my friend group (with 2 other people my age) if they want to go out nothing happens. ive asked so many times but it's like they just don't want to hang out. and i keep seeing them post everywhere of them having fun with their OTHER friends (i don't know them bc they're from their primary schools; we are in secondary school now). and the obvious solution is to hang out with my primary school friends, right? well awesome news I DONT HAVE ANY.

and like ive just been feeling really really lonely especially today. i don't even text anyone except for my best friend, and even then she doesnt really respond properly because its like i dump a lot of messages and 4 hours later she skims through them, rinse and repeat.

(also side note i used to have another best friend but he ended up having a crush on me and didn't give me space so i kinda ended the friendship bc i wasn't comfortable with it)

during my entire TWO MONTH school holiday i haven't gone out with friends. not even once. while i see everyone else my age having so much fun and enjoying life while i just rot at home scrolling through tumblr.

so yeah im not really having a great time. hopefully when i get back to school in january things will be better

sorry for the long rant

Hey, kid (human). No need to apologize for the long rant. Actually, I've got a lot to say about this topic, too, so take a toilet break, grab a beverage and a snack, then sit down with your deal old Bildaddy (platonic, metaphorical) for a chat.

First off, sorry you're going through this. It hurts a lot when friends start fading away, and you realize they no longer consider you as close and you consider them. Feeling left out and like you don't have any real friends seriously sucks.

But it's actually something every single person goes through at some time or another--though most of us aren't brave enough to admit it like you have, because it feels embarrassing and shameful. Like there's something wrong with you.

There isn't.

There is nothing wrong with you.

Friends come and go, and 99% of the time it has nothing to do with you, or anything you've said or done. It isn't your fault. That doesn't mean it hurts any less, but it isn't your fault.

But that being said, I promise you, for every person you see pictures of having so much fun and enjoying life, there are twenty--probably even more--at home like you, scrolling tumblr, or tiktok, or reddit, or whatever the kids are scrolling these days.

And even those people you see posting pictures, that isn't their everyday life. They post pics of the good times, not the bad ones (well not usually) or the boring ones. Especially not the boring ones. I bet they do more sitting at home and scrolling than you think. They're just not advertising that for all their followers to see.

But that's not the point. The point is (dolphins! goats!) your current friends aren't fulfilling your need for socialization. And that means you need to find some new friends, anon.

You can still stay friends with your best friend and that old friend group. As in, don't send them a message officially ending the friendship, and don't delete and/or block them everywhere. You can still talk to them in school when you see them.

(Do unfollow them on social media if seeing them hang without you is upsetting--or better yet, pause on using social media entirely--except for tumblr, of course--until you're in a better place, mentally and emotionally. Bildaddy deleted instagram five years ago and never went back.)

But starting today, back off on asking these friends to hang out, and sending long text messages to your best friend that she only skims through. They're not matching your energy, so you need to start matching theirs. Either they'll notice the difference and start making more of an effort (no, not that kind), or they won't and they won't. But either way, you'll stop wasting your time.

Next, you take all the energy you were spending on your old friend group and start looking for new friends.

While you're still on winter break, there might not be as many opportunities, but there are some possibilities. Do you have any cousins around your age who might wanna hang out? Or maybe there are local events aimed at teenagers you can attend? Check libraries and community centers. Or on New Year's Eve, there might be some sort of Parents Night Out event you can volunteer for and help babysit a group of little kids, along with other teenagers that you could befriend?

Then, when winter break ends, look around your school for other students who might be in your same situation--and trust me there are others in your same situation. Is there someone who always sits alone at lunch? Or what about that kid in class who's too shy to speak up? Is there someone getting bullied or ostracized? Someone new to the school who hasn't made any friends yet? Look for the ones who might need a friend as much--or even more--than you do and try to befriend them.

It won't always work, no, cause nothing always works. But it will work sometimes. And you only need it to work enough times to make a couple friends. And if you make the right friend, they might have a friend group that you can join.

I know it's really scary to put yourself out there and make the first move. But you'd be surprised how receptive people are, especially the shy ones who are too scared to say 'hi' first, and rely on the braver ones, like you, for the human connection they need. Because we all need it. (Even me. Because I'm totally 100% human.)

Other ways to make friends are clubs, in school and out of school, which is probably what adults will suggest if you ask them, so I'm not going to spend much time on this. But they're right. If you're not already in clubs--academic, sports, art, books, music, anime, whatever your interest(s) is--join some! If there's nothing of interesting at your schools, churches and other local organizations might also have youth clubs and activities, too.

Shared interests in a sure way to make friends. I see it happening all the time on Tumblr. Those mutuals you wish didn't live so far away? Well, you can find mutuals just like them IRL! (Especially if you start or join a book club that reads Good Omens, or a tv show club that watches Good Omens)

Another option is getting a part-time job at a place other teenagers work. If this is something you can do without disrupting your schoolwork, try it. Fast food restaurants, cinemas, places like that.

You say you're someone who has the ability to be friends with anyone? Well, prove it! This isn't a threat, by the way. This is encouragement. I'm encouraging you.

Now go out there and make some friends, kid! I know you can do it! I believe in you, and everybody here is rooting for you.

And, as always, have an ox rib (platonic)

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

Non-Binary Vox headcannons because it's Pride Month and I am ANNOYING!!!!!!!!!!

Like I've said before, in my headcannon Vox is AMAB non-binary and is okay with basically any pronouns/gendered terms

That being said he isn't really a fan of it/its just because(I am projecting this headcannon is entirely me projecting) he already has some w e i r d feelings about basically being an object, w/ the TV head and all, and finds them dehumanizing

It took them awhile to get comfortable with using femme-adjacent terms because, despite genuinely liking them, the toxic masculinity of a repressed queer person from the 50s could probably power an entire city block-(assuming homophobia still exists in the Hellaverse? I think I read somewhere that it doesn't but still)

Also the misogyny. I know very little about the 50s, but from what I DO know, misogyny was running fucking RAMPANT back then

That being said, the only person that Vox still doesn't allow to use femme-adjacent terms on them is Val, because Val is. Himself. And makes it really fucking weird-

This moth has MISOTHYNY /ref

"You can refer to me as a woman when you start BEHAVING YOURSELF >:("

Otherwise though Val is actually very supportive of Vox's identity because. It's Val. No way in HELL that man is any type of queerphobic hAVE YOU SEEN HIM!?!?!?!?

Part of why she chose the name Vox when she was establishing herself in Hell is because of the enate enby urge to name yourself some random, cool sounding word

Doesn't matter wether you've realized it or not, the desire will Always Be There

Velvette's the one that told Vox about the concept of non-binary after they went on a drunken rant about their Weird Gender Feelings while the two were hanging out

Also hopping on a hc trend I've seen a couple times- Vox's demon form is sexless, which is part of what really got him thinking about his gender in the first place

Like they had never really considered they could be anything but a man before, but the lack of any real defining masculine features besides their voice caused some really conflicting feelings-

Honestly I think Vox probably has a LOT of really conflicting feelings abt her demon form in general but that's kinda off topic

The reason they had never considered being anything but a man is because they had never actually had the words to describe the feeling of not being a man OR a woman before, and found it easier to just dismiss any thoughts along those lines as insecurities(something they already have a plethora of) & lean harder into their masculinity to cope

But then he died, and all the features he was using as a safety net got stripped away, forcing him to confront all the Weird Gender Feelings

Except not really because they just ended up pushing them down for several more decades lmfao

She generally prefers presenting more masculine because it's what he's the most used to + it's good for brand consistency, but she's DEFINITELY experimented with more femme presentation before

Vox's appearance is very dependant on how they want others to percieve them rather then what they actually want to wear at any given moment. Anything they leave the house wearing is specifically calculated to keep up their image, so that kind of experimenting is just limited to the comfort of their own home.

Aaaaaaaand that's all I got for now. This headcannon is very special to me(because I am projecting. This is, at it's core, me projecting. The only parts that aren't projecting are the bits that are reliant on the cultural context Vox comes from and them being AMAB-), so I'll probably talk about it again. Eventually. But for now these are the thoughts I've actually managed to put into words lmao

[goat-guy-tm]

I've come to realize that I have not gone through my insane rambling of why Michi is my favorite character in MYS. I need to fix that right now.

I will warn you, the ocification beam is strong on this one.

For the longest time I've always felt like Michi was a product of her soroundings. Does it excuse the things she's done? No, but hear me out; if going with the assumption that her mys lore is similar to her mcd lore, then both her parents are gone, dead in some way or another and she is without any kind of parental figure other than a single crazy cat lady who likes her just cause she's part cat.

I feel like her obsession with Aphmau could be easily explained with PDH. Throughout pdh Laurence is constantly going after Aphmau, persuing her, fawning over her, and Michi, is equally doing the same over Laurence.

And suddenly, one day Laurence wants to go out with her, be in a relationship with her. She's ecstatic, over the moon. So much so that she can't realize he's just using her as a place holder, because that's what his intentions were.

She adored him, put so much love and effort into their relationship, only for Laurence to brush her off and have googoo eyes for Aphmau, a girl two-three years below their grade.

Many girls in PDH didn't like Aphmau for boy related reasons, but Michi, Michi despised her. Whenever she would even bring up Aphmau and her concerns of her, Laurence would shoot her down, telling her she's overthinking. Michi hated Aphmau.

When she finally graduated, she tried to get far away from Phoenix Drop. She hated Aphmau so much she had to leave her home town. The one time she got attention, when she thought someone would finally love her, and it got stolen up by that clumsy little freshman.

When Michi came back on offer from KC to work at IHop with her, Michi took it up. She didn't like KC, but KC was the only person who loked her. The pink mifwa was like a sister to her. A sister she never wanted but was stuck with all the same.

Michi was never good at keeping friends, let alone making them. When KC showed intrest in Reece, Michi stepped in instantly, stealing the man from her. It's the only way she felt like she had power, and she knew it would drive KC away from her. Having friends meant being hurt by them, that's all Michi knew. No one could love her, she was a weirdo, a weirdo no one wanted.

Anything she seemed to show intrest in, suddenly there was Aphmau, stealing the limelight and praise once again from her. No matter what she can't get away from her. Every corner of her lofe was blocked by Aphmau.

Michi knew deep down that Aphmau didn't mean it, but so many times had Aphmau ruined her life.

The cycle never ended. Find a friend, get hurt by them, be all alone again.

Ein felt like normal. Ein felt like home. Ein felt like what love was, what friendship was. The pain he inflicted on Michi felt normal. She was afraid of him, she knew at any moment he could and would use a forever potion on her, but in a deep pit of her stomach it soothed her. The cycle continued, and the cycle hurt, but it felt like home. But of course, it was all for Aphmau. Aphmau, Aphmau, Aphmau.

No matter where she went, no matter who she trusted, Aphmau was always there, ruining her life.

I deeply feel that Michi is a product of abuse and neglect, that her siding with villians all the time is from a need for someone like that to view her as worthy, to love her in any way. That the neglect and rejection by Laurence all those years ago soured her so deeply that the cycle of abuse and truama became 'home' to her.

Her want and borderline need to take Aaron from Aphmau is sourced from Aphmau's stealing of Laurence from her, how she was in the middle of their 'relationship' the whole time and Michi just wnats revenge, to make Aphmau feel as hurt as she's made Michi feel for so many years.

I love Michi so much. Away from Jesson's bad writing, Michi could have been such a deeply troubled and complex character, but sadly she's just the weird villian side kick. Anyways, I love her, easily top 5 at least.

[magicalqueennightmare]

Sins & Amends Chapter 34

(Gif by @ banditthewriter)

Billy Russo x Female Reader (60 part story)

This follows pre- the punisher into the storyline of daredevil, punisher season 1 and beyond

This is NOT Canon Billy. This is decent human being Billy left with bad options over worse decisions

This was also posted to A03 under: WaywardGaPeach. That account and this one is the only place you'll see me post this. If you see it on any other platform/account know it's not me.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Billy finds out Frank is still alive

Your mind was running in a thousand different directions as you slipped into the fence running around Micro's hideout. The walk there after getting dropped off by a cab blocks away had been stressful to say the least, the constant worry that you would lead someone back to Frank inadvertently.

You moved the bags of groceries over to one hand so you could open the door. When you stepped inside you whistled the same tune again just in case Micro had failed to mention to Frank that you were on the way.

--------------------

When you walked in Frank was sitting up on the side of his cot and Micro was changing the bandages. They both looked up so you waved a hand in their direction "Hold up. Let me take a look at that, you come put your food away"  Micro nodded and walked pass you into the kitchen area.

You used the sanitizer that was sitting near by then sat down next to Frank. He didn't flinch as your hands moved across the wound on his shoulder. "It's healing good Frankie" you said with a nod before digging into the first aid kit to find what you would need to rebandage him.

You were almost done when the radio next to the wall of computers crackled to life. You didn't pay too much mind until you heard "Blackbird to Raven. Come in Raven" no it couldn't be. You'd only heard those call signs in passing stories but one look at Frank told you he'd caught the voice as well. "Where's that coming from?" He asked Micro so you hurried to finish. 

Micro walked over to the radio and moved a few dials around "It's a recording, repeating across all frequencies" he stopped on one channel and the voice was clear as day "Blackbird calling bower team" it was Billy.

"I've been monitoring the radio just in case I caught something about.." Micro went to explain but trailed off when he realized you and Frank were having a silent conversation. You both knew that voice, the question was why was he sending that call out? 

"Do you two know what this is?" He asked. "Yeah" you replied and Frank added "I'm Raven"

You could feel your heart leap into your throat every time Billy's voice came across the radio "You out there Frankie?" Fuck how did he know? 

"Who is that?" Micro demanded as you stood up and Frank buttoned his shirt up then stood up next to you. "It's Billy Russo. We served together and he's Y/N's ex. He's a friend" Frank explained and you nodded. "Does he know you're alive?" Micro questioned.

Frank cut his eyes at you and it wasn't accusatory, more just asking so you shook your head. "Nah. I don't think so" Micro pointed back towards the radio and you couldn't really blame him for being a bit rattled because you were "That sounds like he does. Do we need to worry?"

Before you could say anything Frank snapped back "I just told you he's my friend. Didn't I say that?" Micro looked at you so you lowered your gaze, you weren't up for questioning at the moment so he turned to Frank "What kind of friend?" "The life or death kind. That's what kind"

Micro scoffed "That's all I get? C'mon! This is a serious development here. All right, some guy I've never heard of all of a sudden is broadcasting your name all over the radio"

"What did I just say?" Frank nearly growled so you slid between the two of them "Frank why is he calling you now?" He met your eyes and slowly shrugged "I don't know" you took a deep breath and ran your hand across your face "Jesus Christ. Ok, I bought food. It's not gourmet but I know for a fact Frank's had worse. You two eat. We'll figure this out but for now both of you get back to your damn corners"

Frank looked over your head at Micro "we better listen to the boss lady" you half smiled at the memories of calling Maria that. "Yeah you better. Look I have got to make a meeting at the station house. It's about new protocols but I will be right back here soon afterwards. Frank don't make no moves until I'm here and I am asking you please just wait ok?" He nodded "Yes ma'am" you actually smiled then and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek "Thank you" you patted Micro's  shoulder on your way by then grabbed your bag and headed for the door.

----------------------

You were barely able to pay attention during the meeting and as p.i.c. you knew better. Once again you were grateful for Alice because she took notes on the high points and didn't mind kicking your shin if need be.

When Chief Michelson called a dismissal you tried to make it out before she caught you but knew that was hopeless. You just hit the outside air when you felt her hand wrap around your arm "Woah there partner. What's up in that pretty little head of yours?" She asked slipping the notes she'd taken into the top of your bag.

You forced a smile "Just over thinking. You know my specialty" she studied you for a moment then nodded "If you need me or Kenzie for anything you know you can just call right?" "Of course. I don't want to worry you. It's nothing like that, I promise"

She pulled you into a hug then you heard a honk followed by Kenzie's voice "Y/N we agreed you would run off with me!"  The two of you pulled apart with a laugh. "I love you too Kenzie" Alice squeezed you once more then headed for the car. You waved as they pulled out into traffic then turned to start walking up the block. You needed to run by your apartment and considered going to Curtis' meeting on the way to Frank but as if your thoughts had conjured the man himself your phone started ringing "Hey Curt!" You greeted.

He let out a breath then said "Can I run down a situation for you and see if I did the right thing?" You laughed humorlessly "Shit Hoyle if I'm your moral compass you're already fucked but do feel free to go on"  

He gave you a run down of Lewis being arrested because he was hanging out with O'Connor who as it turned out was as big of a slimeball as you originally thought. He never actually saw combat, all the bullshit stories he told were just that. "Curt this may be one case you can't solve honey. I mean he's gonna mess up that kid worse than he already was. I don't want to sound cold but I'd rather see Lewis dead than you hurt because he's not stable and unwilling to admit it" "I know, I know" he replied then said he had to go. "I'll talk to you later"

---------------------

You were a few blocks from Micro's hideout when your phone started ringing. You paused to dig it out your pocket and froze at the number. It wasn't saved but seemed vaguely familiar. You shrugged then answered it with a quick "Hello?" "Y/N. Don't hang up on me. This is important" your heart was once again pounding in your throat because this time instead of over the radio Billy's voice was coming over the other end of your phone.

"You've got five minutes Billy" you heard him chuckle and was tempted to hang up the phone before the achingly familiar sound could wrap around you like it always did in the past. "So if I ask to meet face to face you'll probably tell me to burn in hell?" He asked and you snarked "Well give the man a prize" "Ok then I'll cut to the chase. Have you seen him?" "Who? Matt, Foggy, Curt, any of the guys I work with? You got to narrow it down"

"Your sister's husband" his accent was thicker than it usually was so you knew you'd hit a nerve. You swallowed twice before finding your own voice again "Billy. Have you gotten any serious blows to the head? He's dead remember? Big boom at the docks? I was there"

"Y/N please if you know anything tell me" he pleaded. "Billy, hang up with me and call Kenzie. You need professional help. I miss him too but he's gone" you ended the call and tried to ignore how your hands shook as you slid the phone back into your pocket and decided to double back the long way around to the hideout just in case, not because Frank would see how rattled you were.

-------------------------

When you walked into the hideout you froze when you spotted Curtis' car parked right near the door. Fuck if Billy had called you he probably went to Curtis first.

You walked in about the time Curtis said "I lied for you again" "I don't mind lying to him" you announced and all three men turned to look at you as you walked into the kitchen. 

Frank looked between you and Curtis "Guess he came to you too?" You shook your head "He called me" "You both did the right thing by telling him I'm dead" you heard the radio crackle to life followed by Billy's voice "Every hour on the hour. This guy's determined" Micro said from his corner of the kitchen. 

Curtis stood between you and Frank and looked you both over before saying "He said he wanted to help you, that he could. Whatever he's offering if you ask me you should take it" Frank shook his head "Less people know I'm alive, safer it is for them" Curtis cut his eyes at you for support but you'd never been one to interfere in the two of them.

He turned his eyes back to Frank "What about you? You don't look too safe. You look like a guy that nearly got his ass killed and for what?" "If I could say something?" Micro suggested so you spun around to face him "You don't get an opinion in their conversation" he held up his hands defensively.

Curtis gave you a small nod then asked Frank "So do we just keep lying?" Frank looked towards you then said "Look Curt, both of you do what you think is right. I've never asked you to do anything else" Curtis shook his head "Y/N, you try your luck with it" then he walked out.

Frank knew what had went down with you and Billy after the kids and Maria. It'd come up one late night. You now knew about the k.i.a's being used to smuggle drugs back to the u.s.  You didn't want any lies between you and Frank. 

Micro asked him "Do you trust this guy?" "Yeah I do" he replied so Micro nodded "Then you should talk to him" "and I'll go with you" you added without much thought. "You sure?" Frank asked so you nodded. "Ok. I'll schedule a meet"

--------------------

Your stomach was in knots as you followed Frank across the open area where he told Billy to meet him. You could feel your gun at your lower back. When Frank had insisted you carry it you looked at him like he had lost his mind.

Billy wasn't a threat or you didn't want to think of him as one but Frank was right that there was always the possibility of someone using him to get Frank out in the open and if worse came to worse he had at least wanted to insure you had means to protect yourself. 

You dropped back behind Frank a couple steps when you spotted Billy sitting at a table near the falafel truck. He still looked as good as always. The leather jacket he was wearing was one you'd always loved on him. His dark eyes seemed almost black whenever he wore it.

Frank looked over his shoulder at you so you picked up your pace about the time Billy lifted his head. You froze the moment he spotted you behind Frank because although he was talking to Frank when he said "Back from the dead" his eyes never left your face. You met his gaze refusing to shy away and give him the satisfaction. You were here for Frank not him.

You stood back when him and Frank hugged then he glanced at you "Y/N. You look good" you scoffed and said "Fishing for a compliment Billy?" He gave you that smile that used to make you weak in the knees but now just hurt your heart "Always" Frank looked between the two of you and you knew he could feel the tension in the air. You were grateful when he cleared his throat and that got Billy's attention back on him. 

"Want a beer?" Frank glanced back at you then nodded "Hells yeah" you walked with them to the table being sure to sit on the side closest to Frank. You could get through this for his sake.

You huddled further into your jacket waiting for one of them to start talking. Billy broke the silence first "How come you never reached out?" Frank shrugged "Less people knew I was alive the better it was for them" "Y/N knew" only Billy could make a simple statement sound so accusing.

 You felt yourself bristle slightly "He needed someone to patch him up. I was willing and actually still around instead of my head being shoved up my own CEO ass. I worry about being outside of myself" 

Billy's eyes widened at your words just slightly before he continued "Well one of those few that knows Frankie's alive works for Homeland" "Yeah agent Madani. We know. She showed up at the damn station house" you bit back and saw what looked like almost anger flash through his eyes before he pushed it down and Frank reached out to touch your leg that simple movement his way of telling you to tone it down.

You grabbed Frank's beer and took a swig when he asked Billy how he knew Madani. "Through my company. We did some training for her agents. Me and her got to talking" your eyes flew up at his words even before Frank let out a dry laugh "So what you and her just get to talking?" 

Billy's eyes fluttered towards you before he grinned and said "Yea something like that" you simply shook your head and finished the beer. Well at least maybe he deemed Dinah material to be on his arm since you'd never been. "You never change do ya Bill?" Frank asked it with that brotherly tone the two always had and without thinking you said "He never could" 

"How's Murdock?" Billy asked turning his eyes to you once again ignoring Frank's presence. You shrugged "At least he doesn't mind me being on his arm. See he cares about me outside of fucking me" "Y/N! Bill! That's enough" Frank sounded like a father scolding his children and you felt your head duck slightly "Sorry Frank"

You stood and walked a couple feet away hearing Frank telling Billy that he should've approached the subject of Dinah differently with you being there. "Sorry Frankie. My point is though I may have seen Madani naked but you're the one she's hot for" after that you blocked out the rest of their conversation choosing to look out over the surrounding area, a habit you'd picked up from years being around Frank and Billy alike. Hell even Curt still did perimeter scans.

You caught the end of their conversation which was Billy offering to get Frank out the city. What got your attention was Frank calling you over. You slowly walked back over to stand at Frank's shoulder as Billy finished his offer to get Frank a new social and to put him on a boat overseas. Billy met your eyes and said "Y/N me and you both know this isn't what Maria would've wanted for him. Hell if you can leave your lover boy behind we could always use a good medic too"

Frank looked between the two of you then stood "Let me think about it Bill" Billy nodded then gave Frank a piece of paper with what dock and what time and his cell number. "Just let me know man" Frank took it with a nod. You turned to walk off but stopped when Billy called your name so you glanced over your shoulder. He half smiled and let his eyes flick across you before saying  "I meant it when I said you look good. If Murdock has that effect on you maybe he actually deserves you".

You didn't give him the satisfaction of responding. If he still thought you were with Matt the better. At least it wasn't clear you weren't over him and at least now Frank had one more option to consider.

"C'mon Frank let's get going" you half mumbled walking away without even looking to see if Frank was following.

------------------

You knew Frank needed a few hours to get his head clear and make a decision so you headed home for a while. You had to get your head on straight after dealing with Billy. You had plans to meet Karen later that night and wanted to be in a better mood before then not to mention you were growing exhausted from constantly looking over your shoulder.

Billy watched you walk away and felt his jaw clench tight with anger. Not at you but at himself, hell at the entire situation all of you were now in because of him. You'd known this whole time Frank was alive and didn't trust him. He'd done it, hell he'd had to do it but didn't mean he liked. He hated himself every day for hurting you but at least you were alive.

----------

Hours later you were half asleep on your couch when your phone rang from a blocked number. You clicked to answer and felt relief and hearing Frank's voice "I'm not leaving. Not yet anyways. I want to see this through" "Ok. Anything I can help with, I'm here" "I know sweetheart. I'll call you tomorrow"

You stared at the phone for a few seconds then stood to head to bed. Karen was asleep in your spare bedroom and had been for hours. Now that you knew which way Frank had decided you could head to bed. You had to be in early for your shift.

You knew there was no way at all to predict what  or who may come up next but you did know that you would be backing Frank up in whatever way you could. You wanted answers as bad as he did. You'd lost so much that day too and wanted to be close enough to make sure you didn't lose him as well.

@intothesoul

@weallhaveadestiny

[dreaminghour]

Catcher/Hannibal - Under the same umbrella

Event: @domaystic Fandom: Down With Love/The A-Team Crossover Rating: Teen and Up Prompt: 06 Under the same umbrella Ship: Catcher Block/Hannibal Smith Context: Crossover. Random seeming pairing I've adopted after reading @firondoiel's smutty one-shot for QuiObi kink week 2022. This is now my third work for these two. Read my other two here: The Darnedest Thing and Only Till the Washing's Done. Only warning I have is that this one is angsty and not at all smutty. Words: 584

Currently, rain was pouring down, a curtain of water ran off the edge of the building separating Catcher from the man wearing a beaten up leather jacket, wet hair a dull steel color, a man who was glaring at him. Catcher was of the firm opinion that Hannibal had no right to look so angry with him.

"What?" Hannibal asked, voice harsh. "What is it?"

Later, Catcher would have been able to say he felt flummoxed by the entire thing: the sudden appearance of Hannibal, being caught in the downpour, the seemingly insurmountable distance between them.

"Why aren't you using your damn umbrella?" Hannibal snarled, finally stepping out into the rain beside Catcher, opening the umbrella and putting it over their heads.

"You could have pulled me under the awning with you," Catcher said, his voice feeling as though it were not belonging to him, made hollow by the rain beating down on them. "I asked, what you were doing here?"

"Can't a man just take a walk in the rain?" Hannibal asked, still unreasonably annoyed. He was so close that Catcher could feel the warmth of his body through his wet coat and suit.

"Where have you been?" Catcher asked. "It's been months!"

"Months?" Hannibal's expression was so unlike any of the easy smiles and knowing smirks he'd shared with Catcher before. It was like they didn't know each other at all.

And maybe, Catcher was realizing, that was the truth of it.

"Eleven months since I tried to reach you. Not a phone call went through. I stopped trying."

Hannibal handed Catcher the umbrella's handle and then, incongruously, embraced him.

Catcher was cold, his body churning with confusion, he never felt this wrong-footed. Never.

This close, Hannibal bent his lips to Catcher's ear, whispering words only for him to hear.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you, but I had to go away."

Catcher's voice cracked: "I thought you died."

"Not yet," Hannibal said, one hand stroking the wet hair at Catcher's nape. "Not this time."

That admission, that promise that someday, maybe, he might not come back… Catcher was snapped back to the present. He met Hannibal's gaze, could see something pinched in his expression. He relaxed his grip on Hannibal, but still that strong arm was wrapped around him, and they were now tightly side by side beneath the umbrella's shelter.

Hannibal didn't speak, and perhaps he was glad that Catcher didn't press him. He needed to sort out the mess of his own emotions, the way he'd not really resolved any questions while Hannibal had been gone, the question of 'what now' which lingered.

"This is my stop," Hannibal said at a corner entrance to one of those multi-use office buildings that only let you in if you used the buzzer and knew who to ask for.

Catcher probably could have gotten in if he'd had five minutes to spare.

He let Hannibal go, but wasn't given his space back.

"I'll see you again," Hannibal said.

"You can't promise that," Catcher replied quickly, somewhat snide.

They were closer than they'd ever been in public, and Catcher was so ludicrously grateful for the rain, even if it ruined his shoes and gave him a cold.

"Soon," Hannibal said, rather than argue, and then he slipped away, sliding a key in the building's door, disappearing into it's warm light, leaving Catcher in the cold and gray.

Guess we'll find out eventually who's right, Catcher thought, and waved his hand for a taxi.

[ghostfanwriter]

Sneak peeks ✨💌✨

So, I've been working on a few Joel Miller and Dave York fics lately, and I keep jumping from one to another, so I decided to show y'all some of it, just for fun.

Just a heads up, though. These aren't edited yet, so if they're kinda yucky or turn out different on the finished works, don't come for me, alright? I'm trying my best 🤧

Feel free to check my work here 💖

... indicates that there's more directly before the snippet.

🪷🪷🪷

Joel Miller

🔥 Safe part two 🔥

Part two to Safe 🔥✨. Raider!Joel still won't touch you. You learn why his people respect fear him so much.

...

You sometimes think about your people who are here, but The Man always reassures you.

"Told you, doll. They're working. Helping us build, cook, hunt. They're all alive and safe."

Was it true?

Maybe, maybe not.

But you were blocking all of those places in your mind. It was easier if you didn't think.

If you focused on making The Man happy.

If he were happy with you he wouldn't hurt your people, because you cared for them.

Right?

You could only hope. Only trust him somehow.

So you do what you can.

You keep him happy.

You clean, you cook, you wash his clothes. You brush your hair, put on pretty clothes he got you and use some perfume he told his men to find for you on a run for supplies.

...

You walked to him, seeing that your panties were in his hand, around his cock, wet, covered in his precum.

You need in front of him and he grabs the back of your neck, pulling your mouth down on him.

"Just the tip, baby. Just enough for you to take it." You happily take it, sucking his tip for a minute or two, while he pumped himself hard and fast, his other hand holding your hair up so he could watch your face, your eyes never leaving his.

Also to prevent you from taking him in deeper. Which you try to do.

"I said just the tip, baby. Don't be greedy now."

So you behave, just the tip, just enough to not let it fall on the floor.

He cums with a grunt, filling your mouth twice before being done, pushing you away from him.

He pants, looking at you. He hands you your panties. "Put it back on, pumpkin, there's gonna be men around the house, don't want them seeing what they shouldn't."

You lift your right foot, mentioning for him to put it on you. He passes it through both your legs, caressing and squeezing your thighs as he went up, his face, close to your pussy, watching it as his thumbs lightly spread the front of your folds. He grunts and shakes his head once with a sigh, pulling it all the way and kissing your hand before lightly slapping your ass. "C'mon, finish what you were doing."

You do so, finishing his wardrobe and turning back at him, finding him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking out the window.

"Can you tell me your name?" You ask and he looks at you, without turning his head over to you, just his eyes. "Why do you need to know?"

"I'd be good to put a name to my moans, so you know it's you I'm thinking about." You say with a sweet smile, and now he turns his head, shaking his head and grunting the same way he did while looking at your pussy. "You're the price I pay, angel. Now I get it. You're making me pay for all the things I've done in this life, fucking making my life so hard."

...

🧰 Dirty Hands 🧰

Where Joel is the only man besides your dads (Bill and Frank) that you know. But he is reluctant to touch you.

His eyes were so pretty, from a distance they seemed dark and mysterious, and you stared into them, your brows furrowing with the intensity of his look. You were so lost in them that it took you — way over — a second to realize he was looking right at you. And you only noticed because your dad yelled. "Frank, not inside!"

You hid behind your curtains. Your chest if moving so fast it hurts, and you can feel every contraction of your heart.

Your dad will fucking kill you. They shouldn't have seen you, but now the man has.

"Aren't you going introduce us to her?" He had barely spoken yet and the new voice sent chills down your spine, pooling in your panties.

"Who?" Bill asked, his hand reaching for his gun. He was ready to kill both of them at any wrong move.

"Oh, shit." Frank sighed under his breath. "Bill, it's okay." He said, resting his hand on Bill's shoulder.

"There's a girl?" The woman asked, looking around to see if she could find you.

...

🍑 The dress 🍑

More from this couple. Where you bring home a dress Joel was looking at during a run for winter clothes and torture him with it at the solstice party in Jackson.

You hide and as soon as he leaves that corner of the store you run to it and grab the dress, putting it inside your backpack and running to the the other side of the store, emerging for him to find you. "Hey, I'm here." He looks at you and smiles, "C'mon, gotta go." You walk towards him and hold his hands, walking out the store to find the others and go back home.

🍑✨≈

"Holy fucking shit!" Ellie almost screams when you walk out the bathroom. You look at her and her eyes are wide, mouth open and a ever so light blush on her cheeks.

Dina turns to look at you and her face looks exactly like Ellie's, but she's also laughing. "Oh, someone's definitely gonna fucking die tonight. Either Joel will fall dead when he sees you or he's going to kill every man that looks at you."

You laugh. You only truly saw the dress when you picked it up from your backpack to wash it at Ellie and Dina's — you didn't want Joel seeing it and ruining the surprise.

The dress is tight and has a slit on one of the legs. It hugs your body perfectly and you can't wait to see his face.

Winter was soon to arrive and for a good while you'll not bare to wear any less than three layers of clothes, so you wanted to enjoy your last chance to look good on something.

Joel was out working all day, and by the end of the afternoon he went home to shower.

He found the clothes you left him perfectly set on top of your bed, with a perfume you got him. He smiled, he was hoping to find you home, but he loved that you took your time to prepare this for him. He got ready and went straight to were the party was gonna happen to help hang lights, fix a few things and be his hot contractor self.

You were gonna meet him with Ellie and Dina, who were also dressed up on some nicer button up shirts and jeans they've found.

Dave York

☀️ Barbecue ☀️

Part three to Scotch. You wear a dress Dave told you not to wear to the neighborhood barbecue, and he fucks your mouth punishes for it.

...

"Hey, Dave! Lucky fucking asshole, wish my kids were failing school." One of the man says, catching Dave off guard.

He follows the men's eyes, his eyebrows furrowing as soon as he finds you, hugging his daughters and greeting Carol.

Your necklaces shining on your chest, your hair falling effortlessly over your shoulders, and the fucking dress he told you not to wear clinging to your body in a perfect way, while still somehow being summer-neighborhood-barbecue adequate.

He smiles when you see him. "Hi, Mr. York! Good to see you!" You say, a warm and inviting smile across your face as you wave. He waves back, a silly smile making it's way to his own face, and he sighs when one of the dads taps his shoulder, drinking beer and talking to him.

"The devil works hard, my friend. But we gotta work even fucking harder." He says and Dave laughs, speaking before he can shut his mouth. "The problem is the devil can look like a fucking angel, sometimes."

The man laughs. "Wouldn't wanna be you, man. Would go fucking crazy seeing that everyday."

🪷🪷🪷

I'll be finishing them soon and post them as soon as I'm happy with them. I know my pacing is not ideal, but I'm doing my best, okay? ✋🏻🤧

[abysmaldaemon]

I think people can change, but that change doesn't mean the old is necessarily gone. There are different variations and degrees of change. I think of it as someone showing a different version of themselves.

The old me is still there, inside me somewhere. I was selfish, cynical, and had no empathy towards others humans. I think because of this, I also have an absence of humanity. Because of my absence of humanity, alongside my deep depression and semi obsession with brutal death metal, my thoughts were quite disturbing. I would think of cruel, foul, disgusting things, and how I unfazed I would be by those things, or even how I might enjoy them. I was, or am, truly fucked in the head.

I guess a couple of examples of my lack of humanity; I remember a friend was driving us somewhere, and there was a dead guy in the middle of the road. There was also a more recent time where there was a car crash less than a block away from me while I was on the job.

Both times, I wasn't curious at all. I was more annoyed than anything. The dead person caused traffic, and all I cared about was going home. I never even had a 2nd thought about him.

The other time, it happened while I was ringing customers up. My coworker ran out to help. The customers stood there in disbelief, just staring. Some went to help, some called 911. I just kept ringing them up like normal as if nothing happened. The only thing I was worried about was if this would make us more busy or not.

Oh, actually, there was a third time kinda? A customer fell and badly hurt themselves, enough to where there was a pool of blood. There were several people around her helping, like 6 or so, and someone calling 911. I didn't even bother to go check or ask what happened, I figured there were enough people there helping. What's one more person going to do?

That's just my life within this realm. Those examples aren't anything compared to my other self. He is far more the darker and cruel part of myself. He has, how do I put this? Put a lot of those deranged and cruel thoughts into action. Sometimes, against his will, oftentimes not. I've seen him indulge it, repeat the same acts again and again, and not feel bad in the slightest.

I keep saying him, and he, but this is me. I'm talking about myself. The things I've done are the acts of a monster, and honestly, I have only seen a little piece of it.

Sighh. I forgot where I was going with all this.

I think the average person doesn't really know how cruel and inhumane they can be. It's within all of us. Those people who gladly participated in the holocaust or the people who raped, tortured, and murder the people in the city of Nanking all those years ago, guess what? They're just like you and me.

It's important to know what you're capable of and recognize the satanic tendencies that characterize you. You don't want to cast them away. You want to transmute them, intergrate them. If you are not capable of cruelty, you're a victim to anyone who is.

"You should be dangerous. You should be a monster, and then learn how to control it. If you're harmless, you're not virtuous. You're just harmless. If you're a monster, and you don't act monstrously. Then you're virtuous, but you also have to be a monster."

I, to a certain degree, am beginning to realize the things I am capable of. I still have much to learn and see before I can say I truly confronted my shadow. Yet despite the things he's done, or I have felt, I am still choosing to act as I am now. As a better version of myself. One who does have empathy and thinks of others' feelings and well-being.

Yet at the same time, it's quite comforting that if ever a time comes.. where I have to be cruel, inhumane, or a monster. I can be.

[neurospicywritingcollective]

An Introduction

Sometimes you need to go somewhere new to realize what is most important to you. Sometimes you need those new experiences to bring new life into you. Living in the same day to day routine can cause mental blocks that you may not even realize are there. It can become challenging to do the things that you love. 

For me, I am a writer. I eat, sleep, breathe writing. I am a writer by trade, as I write articles for a living. However, this eats away at me all the time. If you would have asked me growing up what I wanted to be, I would have told you I wanted to be an author. I wanted to publish books. I would be disgusted with myself that I haven't done any fiction writing since I earned my degree. I would be disgusted that I haven't published any fiction works. But it is the way of the world. I need to make money to pay bills. I am lucky that I have a job in my field, just not the industry I want. 

I have fought my way through imposter syndrome, feeling as though I could not be doing a good job even if I have the degree to know what I am talking about. But finally something clicked inside my brain that made me say "you know what, fuck it, I have a degree in writing, I have a writing job, no one can fucking say that I am not a writer. I have published works on the internet, even if they aren't what I wish they were." 

But I still struggle with that idea that I am not the writer I want to be. But I struggle creating. I am not in an environment that pushes me to create works of fiction. I spend hours each day working, and I don't want to sit around and write more at the end of it. Which I've been told that makes me a bad writer.  But I don't want to get burnt out. Writing is my passion, however, I can still be burnt out on it despite what many people believe. You can become burnt out on your passion. That doesn't mean anything is wrong with you, it just means everything is out of alignment. 

I do however want to get back into writing fiction. I love coming up with stories and writing them. I love working with characters and listening to them grow and develop inside my head. But getting back into that creative environment inside my head is difficult. 

Now being that I went to school to develop my writing skills I spent 6 years listening to various tips and tricks on how to be a better writer. I spent those years looking at those tips and wondering why they weren't working for me. Why couldn't I create a daily writing schedule. I tried. I'd wake up early and try to write. I'd stay up late to write. But then eventually I'd want to sleep and I would choose that over writing. Or I would have had to work. Something always found a way to distract me. Now most people told me that I never kept to it long enough to form a habit. Or they'd say I lacked the self discipline  to be a real writer. I'd feel defeated. All I have ever wanted to be was a writer. But how can I be a writer without a daily writing schedule? I can produce works with a deadline. But I'd wait until last minute to work on them. 

Fact of the matter is, those tips don't work for someone with a neurodivergant mind. They sound great and wonderful, But my mind races at a thousand miles a minute, bouncing from one topic to another that I will get distracted by a million things on my way to write. Nothing gets done. So why aren't there ways to help those of us who have some type of neurodivergence? Why is it neurotypical or nothing at all? I am a writer, and we all need ways to help us keep writing. Keep us excited. So that is what I aim to do. I want to create a place for us to keep writing even without the constant creative stimuli. I want a space where us writers can feel like the writers that we are, even if we aren’t perfect. 

[lastofhope]

Rant: Loneliness

First post! I know that digital footprint is a thing and this account may eventually backfire because I'm gonna spill everything I can't say in real life, but whatever at this point because I need an outlet.

Ok so. My loneliness is getting really bad. These past few months have been really rough. Around 8 - 10 months ago was probably the worst my loneliness has ever gotten in my life, (I hated everyone in the world and was living with constant spite, and simultaneously living with heavy guilt for those feelings). As for the fast few months, I started off fine, the previous months actually being really peaceful, but of course, like everything in life, it had to go away. I got incredibly sad, to the point I'd just sob multiple times a week, with such heaviness that it made it feel impossible to move and want to sink to my knees when i walked (I've never experienced crying where it made me want to collapse completely like that until then). If i cried during the afternoon I'd just be completely exhausted afterwards and only want to sleep. Then my life was quieter because I used up all my emotion and couldn't feel as much, before I started to notice something constantly in the background. Eventually i recognized it as pure emptiness. It's come and gone, but the past few weeks it's been prominent in my life.

I can't feel love for anyone in my life. Although that's been an issue for a long while, it's never been as concentrated and constant as it is now. Listen, I have friends, but a little over a year back my closest friend group all split up and i lost that feeling of closeness to all of them, (i could tell them everything, they were the only ones I could tell everything, or anything for that matter, and i lost that completely). Even though we're on good terms now i have not felt close to them. I have lots of other friends, none who are incredibly close or reach out to me. My relationship with my parents is good, we get along, but we aren't emotionally close whatsoever (i don't feel comfortable whatsoever opening up to them due to many previous situations and we've also never had that kind of relationship where i go to them for any kind of help or advice).

I should be grateful for our dinners together, for the time i get to spend with my family, but instead i feel nothing when I'm with them. Same with my friends (none of my old close friends). I invited them over for a party last Saturday and at the end of the night i looked around at this group (some who I'm generally close with and have known for years) and realized i felt nothing for them. I'm so broken. I don't even understand why this is happening.

I hate this hyper independent culture we have. "Learn to love being alone! Nobody's gonna come and save you, so save yourself. Just love yourself!" What fucking bullshit. I need help. I know that if I just had one person who i could tell all my real feelings to, if i just had one person that i felt comfortable crying in front of and that i wasn't embarrassed to open up to, that i felt comfortable around, that i could go to for a hug when i needed it, I'd be fine. I've never had someone comfort me when I'm crying. I've never ranted to someone about my problems face to face, it's all been on text. I've never been able to just collapse into my parents arms and cry and tell them that something happened and I don't know what to do. I've never gone to my parents for any help with any personal issues. Everything bad that's happened ive got through alone, and it's wore me down as a person over the years. Fuck, do you know how fucking scary it was when one day I just lost my feelings and then never felt emotions the same way again? I had nobody to tell. Nobody to ask for for help. I was so scared. Or how I can't even feel too much excitement or happiness before my emotions turn off? How i used to go months feeling nothing but a lump in my throat that blocked all emotions? How i went emotionless for a few months because i enjoyed a book too much and that enjoyment shut off my feelings? How scared i was, how hopeless i felt when i realized i could only suffer through it and nothing i could do would make it go away? I can't feel extreme emotion anymore. I haven't for about five years. I went on roller coasters a month ago and i felt no excitement or fear on any of them. Nothing. i haven't felt fun in a long time and I don't know what will make me feel like I'm having fun again. I laugh with people but don't appreciate them, don't love them. Sometimes when i cry now all i feel are tears running down my face but i can't feel the sadness.

How am I supposed to go to college in the fall and make friends if i can't feel anything? I have to constantly put myself out there knowing I'll get very little return for months on end and maybe end up with a true friend. If I'm lucky. That's so exhausting when I already have so little energy for life. I won't be able to do it. But if i don't constantly put myself out there nobody will talk to or reach out to me and I'll be alone.

I used to be able to enjoy being alone. Sometimes my hobbies will make me happy. But more often than not now i have no will to do my hobbies because I'll have a singular thought of wanting a real deep true friend and get overwhelmed and sad. Nature used to be my healer, used to make me feel at peace when nothing else did, but now when i go outside alone i can't feel peace. I feel empty. Nature doesn't look calming or beautiful, and i realize nothing seems worth doing if i have nobody who really loves me beside me.

I'm at the point where my goal is to make it through each day. I have enjoyed a few moments as a result of this actually, such as the warmth of the sun on my back yesterday morning and a few good meals ive had recently. Those moments were nice. I'm realizing maybe that i should live just for the chance to maybe experience those little moments of bliss, even though emptiness overwhelms me most the time. But it's difficult when all I want is to have a true connection with one person. To have one person i can truly rely on. To have one person who can hold me when I'm too weak to stand. I know desperation won't get me anything, but I'm not even desperate anymore. I'm accepting of my situation. But it's a desire that takes up a lot of my thoughts, and the knowledge that it may be years before i actually find that person, that there's a large unknown amount of time stretched in front of me where I know i have to suffer, is crushing. It crushes my will to do anything. I keep trying to build relationships and talk to people and be very outgoing, but it's gotten me very little. Very few people reciprocate anything in life, even family. That's also crushing.

Nobody will save me but me. Nobody will care about me fully or understand more than me. But i can't go through life utterly alone and turn out okay and unscarred. I can survive. But I'm at the point where life is just survival for me. I'm not enjoying it. Im so empty. I've screamed and begged for years and years while sobbing to the universe for a close relationship with my parents, to be able to just sit on the couch and hug them for an hour, or for one person to come into my life that i have a true connection with and feel comfortable and happy with, that i can hug and go to for comfort. My prayers have yet to be answered.

When i think of myself in five years, suddenly i seem so unsure of where I'll be because i don't know how I'll live with this loneliness. I don't know how I'll live with nobody close to me for the entirety of my life. I don't think i can. God I'm so fucking miserable.

If anyone has advice on this other than to just distract yourself and survive the day, I'd love to know. Also sleep, i know to just go to sleep when everything seems overwhelmingly hopeless. I'm also posting this to know that anyone who feels this is not alone. I'm always here to talk if you need. But if anyone actually reads this and makes it this far, thank you, really. I hope you're doing well.

[kyleledfordswriting]

I've never really been one to date around. As a young person, I had a serious girlfriend for over a decade. After that relationship ended, I quickly found myself in another serious relationship which led to marriage and lasted five years. When we divorced, I had my first concert performance and met a cool girl who I ended up dating for almost four years. In between relationships, I had a few short-lived flings but never really actively sought out new partners. I always seemed to fall in love quickly, which made me happy, and maybe that's why I never felt the need to date around.

As a person in my mid-thirties who hasn't really dated much, I knew it was important to take my time and explore what dating could offer me. So, I did what many people do these days and created profiles on dating apps like Tinder and Bumble. I started matching with people and having conversations with them, which was quite exhilarating at first. It's exciting to think about the possibilities that different individuals could bring into your life.

One of the people I matched with was "K". She's a stained glass artist and lives in a townhouse just two blocks away from me. It seemed like it would be easy to meet up with her during our free time. So, I arranged our first date at the Artisans in Everett to see an artist from Seattle whom I admire.

I found The Artisans to have a charming and comfortable atmosphere and thought it would be an ideal location for a first date. The woman I was going to meet was slightly younger than me, with a child and a successful career as an artisan. Due to my recent separation, I decided to schedule our date a few weeks in advance to allow myself time to reflect and gain some clarity.

I arranged the date with “K”, and while waiting for that day to arrive, I chatted with a person I'll refer to as "M". Despite being ten years my senior, they exuded a youthful vitality and had a great sense of humor. Our conversations were fun, and I felt a strong connection with them. We tentatively scheduled a date for three weeks from now.

As I pondered my recent breakup and contemplated my prospects for future romance, I decided to reach out to my former high school flame, "A." We arranged to meet up and celebrate her belated birthday, while catching up on each other's lives. Our meeting place was the Hart and the Hunter, a trendy restaurant situated in downtown Seattle, close to the bustling Pike Place Market. Despite the dreary weather, I felt excited about the prospect of reconnecting with “A” in this cool, eclectic setting - a fusion of urban chic, country-western and cocktail bar styles. I had dressed in a throwback country-style outfit, which made me feel just right for the occasion. I arrived half an hour early to ensure we had a good table and anxiously sipped my coffee as I waited for “A” to arrive.

As soon as she walked in, I felt at ease. We've known each other for so long, practically grew up together. We're like family. It was such a relief to confide in someone and talk about recent events, to process life with someone who knows me better than I know myself. Her perspective was truly eye-opening. She made me realize that even though I had a blast with my recent ex and the wild adventures we had, living like we're still in our early twenties when we're in our mid-thirties and approaching our late thirties is unsustainable.

Lately, I've been writing and reflecting on what I truly want and how I feel. Sure, I love to party and I enjoyed the crazy times we had. We went on some extreme rockstar-level escapades. But I never really took the time to think about how those experiences made me feel or whether they aligned with my future desires.

When it comes to our shadow selves - the parts of us that hold our darkest desires, wildest fantasies, and impulsive behaviors - having a partner who encourages and enables that side of us is not the best reality to strive for myself. Personally, I desire more stability in my life; a family, a home, and a real future. At one point, I thought that my partner and I could grow and evolve together towards a more stable lifestyle, while still occasionally indulging in some adventures.

I went to pay the bill after lunch, but the waitress told me they don't accept cash. It made me feel old and out of touch, especially since I had saved that cash specifically for this occasion. I gave my friend "A" the cash, and she paid the bill by scanning a QR code on her phone. We spent the rest of the day walking around Pike Place market, where we had one of our first dates. We even visited the comic book store, where she bought me a graphic novel that she likes, so we could talk about it. Watching her move and act brought back memories of when I was in love with her and admired her unique qualities. We had never spent time together as single individuals since we split up, as we both always had partners. Am I feeling something new, or am I just nostalgic for old feelings? I know it’s just nostalgia but I can see myself yearning to find new romance.

I got a message from "J" when I got home. We matched on Tinder, but she let me know that we're also Facebook friends and had met a decade ago at the Everett Mall where she had a crush on me. “J” is younger than me and we have completely different interests and lifestyles. She's not into the local music scene and is more of a Disney princess kind of girl who loves Tinker Bell. She's very attractive with long blonde hair and strong eyes, and she's also blunt and forward, which I find appealing. We had a FaceTime video chat where we got to know each other's personalities and voices. “J” asked me if I wanted kids and if I was ready for a relationship, which I appreciated because she's very stable and has a child of her own whom she's devoted to. Although we have different backgrounds, I like many things about “J” and our conversations. I've never really dated before, so I'm not sure if I'm ready for a relationship, but I do want stability and less wild partying in my life. I've always wanted a kid, so maybe being with someone so different could be good for me.

The following day, my conversation with this person continued, and it carried on through lunch and after work. We seemed to be hitting it off pretty well, and they started showing a lot of interest in me. They even asked me to call them during my lunch breaks at work. I was taken aback by their enthusiasm and compliments about my looks. They even suggested we do more video chats.

However, I am recently separated and have a tendency to jump into relationships quickly, always believing that the person I'm with is "the one."

So, could this person be my forever person? It's too early to tell, but my heart is yearning for the comfort and security of a relationship. My last relationship was quite the rollercoaster ride, with extreme highs and lows. Maybe this new relationship could be more focused on stability, security, and comfort. Here I am already talking about this relationship that hasn’t even started. Am I that predictable?

[betweenmuses]

"I like taking care of everyone," Renan shrugged, knowing that it sounded lame but he was a people pleaser. He was the type that couldn't bare to see someone suffering, and considering the amount of money he had, if he could make someone's day brighter by doing something for them, what would the harm in that be? For every person out there trying to bring others down, he was that person that would try to lift them up, and although he gave that same respect to everyone, those he cared about definitely received it tenfold.

The question had caught him off-guard considering they were still docked and he hadn't expected the heavy hitting questions until further into their voyage. Still, Renan could only smile as he shook his head, "if you think my answer would be only what I expect you want to hear, then you still don't truly know me well enough." Renan would never lie about what he'd do to take care of someone, or even embellish the truth to give others what they want to hear. He was the epitome of a nice guy, through and through, and honesty was his best policy. "Sure you want to get into this now?" He asked, though if the question was posed, he might as well answer it.

"I'd of course offer to pay for you living arrangements and lifestyle if it'd get you out of your current situation, but then again, if you truly enjoy what you do and would want to continue it, I would take care of you by being there when your shift is over, any frustrations that you have could be taken out on me, you could vent, i'd be your sounding board, if a client became too physical I would wipe away your tears, clean you up, provide the proper after care because I know you wouldn't be getting it there. I'd simply lift you up, put you on a pedestal, and make sure you knew how much you were loved." It may have sounded corny but taking care of someone meant making them feel like they were the most important person in his world.

"They help," of course his good looks and money have people lining up around the block for a piece of him. "I've come to realize more often than not they're inviting the wrong kind of people into my life though. People who just want sex and money but no other attachment, which I guess is why I chase after you so hard, because I feel there's something more there, even if you're not up to admitting it. Perhaps the feeling is one sided and not mutual, that's understandable, but it's something that I can't ignore," he shrugged, eventually he'd come to his senses and stop chasing the other if he truly didn't want to be caught.

Again, such a hard hitting question and they hadn't even been away from the docks, but Renan never left a question unanswered. "I don't know," he knew it wasn't the best answer he could give him, but it at least was an honest one. "It wouldn't come down to jealousy if I knew you were as invested as I was. I would trust you," he shrugged, it certainly was hard to answer this question entirely. "But that doesn't mean that I wouldn't worry about you," he sighed, "because I know how people can be, your safety would be the driving factor of my fear. I'd trust you explicitly, once you had my heart, but i'd still worry about you every time you went to work, and that's where i'd have the hardest time."

"...You really do enjoy taking care of me, don't you?" Casey found himself humming a little. He knew it mostly came from a good place but he wondered if part of it was also a way for Renan to stake some kind of claim on Casey. After all if he was the one always taking care of him, providing for him...then Casey would be his in a way he wasn't with anyone else. "Well then, why don't you tell me exactly what you think of when you talk about taking care of me" He said - deciding to just go there rather than just letting it go. "And not just what you think I want to hear or is easy to say. All of it."

"Oh no denying you then eh? Bossy" He smirked and poked him in the chest for good measure. Hands leaning behind him against the kitchen counter and just watching as he admitted to not needing to chase so much. "I imagine your good looks and money is enough to have guys falling over you left and right, hm?" He pointed out before his smile softened and he sighed a little. "Renan, you know the whole giving you a chance thing is..." He trailed off before meeting his gaze.

"You know my work, could you even begin to stand the idea of me in those scenarios with other men? You think your jealousy could handle it?" He decided to just come right out and ask. No more dancing around the topic.

[vertrue]

hey yo what’s up im pk and i wrote harry once before in my devianart days so buckle up KIDS its going to be a wild fuckin’ ride. * i’ll be basing him mainly off 616 because no offense to the be-u-tie dane dehaan,,,, i think james franco was more canon and tbh those movies came out 200 years ago & the most i know about it now is all the james franco blogs i stalked to jog my memory and get to this point. cool? cool. lets crack this wide open ----

* im going to keep this vague so i don’t step over other people’s canon because harry & the osborns/oscorp haven’t been mentioned or utilized by the mcu.

[ HERMAN TØMMERAAS, HE/HIM, 24 ] HAROLD OSBORN has been spotted in gotham city! the VILLAIN is publicly known as THE GREEN GOBLIN, and have often been described as DEBONAIR, but also DESTRUCTIVE. they have also been affiliated with NO ONE, and said to mainly operate in NEW YORK CITY. will they help find answers, or add to the chaos? [ pk, she/her, 19, est ]

*  quick warning this intro deals with some heavy stuff ( marvel & dark? wow ) so yeah,, things like depression, mental illness, verbal abuse, neglect, drug use, death, and violence.

firstly. bruce wayne who? that mug couldn’t lie. ( * that panel covers it all i could end the intro here if i wanted ).

* will smith meme * this is my SON harold theopolis osborn - runner up for worst hair in the marvel universe. beat only by his own father.

he was born to norman and emily osborn. listen without getting too deep,, his mother died sometime after childbirth due to complications ( it’s marvel no one is really dead butt ) which left him with n*rman. that tool.

surprise. norman didn’t win dad of the year. first he’s too busy with business,,, then finding elaborate ways to kill a spider,, just hold your son plz.

his dad ran oscorp ( stark employees don’t interact plz & ty ) so they had that $$$$$$$. sort of cybernetic engineering/military research & sketch stuff like experimental science because norman eventually creates the goblin formula ( a rip off version of the super soldier serum ) via oscorp but thats later !!!

harry’s kind of a HUGE suck up to his douche dad. he’s constantly chasing after approval which wake up call, har, you’re never going to get it. * ( “  that creep is my father, all right! if i'm lucky, i'll become half of what he is. so just keep your mouth shut about stuff you don't understand! “ ) thanks james franco. long story short norm left him hanging a lot. * EXHIBIT A harry’s delusions of his father often leave him at odds with people ( especially after the gwen incident )

tired of being second to work -- harry switches around the chemicals his father is working with and it explodes in his father’s face ( the goblin formula is made ) & his father becomes the villain known as the green goblin.

listen if it wasn’t complicated enough - there’s a lot of amnesia nonsense in here. somewhere down the line GG discovers spider man's identity,,,, but it doesn’t matter because cue another fight and now norman’s got amnesia. identity crisis solved. he forgets everything. green goblin’s gone for a hot minute.

somewhere in this period harry starts using drugs due to stress/// it is said beforehand that he had pills for everything * sleeping, staying up, to relax, yadda yadda. but he turns to actual hardcore drugs to cope with everything in his life which eventually leads to an overdose/bad reaction. he’s hospitalized until he’s in the clear.

norman’s getting wacky because there’s chemicals left in his brain and the green gobllin persona eventually makes a brief return. though he becomes sidelined when dealing with his son’s health issues.

eventually oscorp starts doing poorly & harry turns to pills again ( hits him hard due to also dealing with depression /// norman tries to cover this up by not allowing him to be moved to a hospital and instead has a doctor come to the house ),

norman essentially starts to lose his mind,,, remembers everything,,, can’t take it anymore. dons the green goblin costume once more and kidnaps gwen stacy :(((( y’all know how this ends. snap crackle pop y’all. that dumbass throws her off a bridge and ya...

to end that chapter and introduce gg 2,, norman essentially ends up impaling himself on his own glider & harry finds him. removes the green goblin costume from his father’s body to preserve his identity & bribes the coroner to not find any traces of the goblin formula in his blood. ( you know that bitvh ain’t dead tho )

harold then, like EVERYONE in NYC, blames spider-man. (for his father’s death),,, and so my small stupid son becomes the second green goblin.

                                    * SIGH *

where i’m starting ;

with a migraine

i wouldn't say he’s full blown goblin yet. but definitely prepping and modifying his father’s work. & starting an obsession w/ spider man //// sorry. just following the super villain handbook.

it’s definitely in the works. and happening. ripperino. he’s just really bitter :/ he’s an “orphan” * i use that term loosely here

* marvel wiki says he refused to go to gwen stacy’s funeral - sounds petty. but in his defense he was probably dealing with burying his dad and the shift in power @ oscorp. also petty. ( don’t get me wrong though he LOVED gwen !!!!!! & he’s just as heartbroken as any of them ,, he just makes a lot of excuses for his dad

in charge of oscorp until his dad drags his ass out of the grave. !! lazarus pit not far !! so i’d say he’s in gotham on business. stomping on other people’s territory.

norman’s not even dead you fools he’s sipping fine wine in europe.

[olderthannetfic]

On the subject of blocking, I think entering a new fandom and blocking a huge section of it straight away is self care at this point. If I read any post along the lines of "if you like this fictional thing then you are..." I block immediately. If a friend knows the fandom, I follow their advice and block the people they suggest too after a quick scroll (I know a lot of people do this). Fandom isn't a community anymore. It's finding a small handful of people to enjoy the thing with and hiding from everyone else.

I read a post on Twitter that talked about how old school fan culture was dying, and how preemptively blocking/antis were killing fandom because it was forcing people to engage and communicate less. I was sad to realize I was part of the problem, but I've had so many bad experiences. I preemptively block based on a particular ship and two characters in A fandom, because of how horribly disgusting the fans are (to each other, to people who like something different, and the content they create is often squicky/poorly tagged). I realize this is almost "anti" behaviour (judging people's character for their fictional tastes), but it was endemic. I don't harass, I walk away silently and filter them out. So hopefully not as bad?

The final straw for me was the "antis in disguise". People who profess to love Dead Dove content (and also write it), but then are aggressive/vile to people who like/don't like different characters, forms of canon, etc, and have extensive trigger lists in their servers, while telling people the right way to fandom (which is to only like what they do). For me, the only "right way" is to let people love their thing and don't harass, while making content for your thing. I was in one for an IP where hunting, death and murder were a huge part of the narrative... and death is on the trigger list. Any and all mentions of it. Yes. Even "that's so funny, I'm deceased".

I'm sorry for the ramble. I have a lot of feelings about being guilted for blocking and setting up boundaries. Especially one person using their RSD to claim they were being bullied! Fandom is mad these days. Mad!

—

I die laughing every time I see someone who thinks they’ve been around a long time but who is somehow still such a n00b that they could say blocking kills old fandom culture.

You know what kills oldschool fandom culture? TWITTER

It’s short form quips. Oldschool fandom was interminable tl;dr. It’s open and public. Oldschool fandom was invite-only with dense webs of social connections required to access it and a natural result of being in it. Some people took their old friendships to twitter with them, but if they want to know why things feel different now, it’s because they went to that piece of shit website. That’s not the fault of the rest of us.

Back in the day, m/m shippers often found a little group of their own people and hid from the haters. Those few tragic souls who liked whatsherface from the last season of Beauty and the Beast did the same. Anime fans weren’t always in the buddy cop fandoms and vice versa, except for FAKE. Fandom has never been just one community. That’s an illusion born of nostalgia and planting one’s head firmly in the sand.

You know what forces people to communicate and engage less? Platforms that make them feel unsafe. Randos being able to turn up in the comments to go “Well, actually!” without the poster having any ability to keep them out. And sure, antis are part of that, but we’ve always had haters of other sorts and always had to get rid of them in order to have a civil discussion.

Denying dickheads access to your time does not kill communication.

If someone on twitter actually meant what you’ve written about above, then they’re clueless. If they want oldschool fandom culture, they need look no further than their own pen. Post long-ass “thinky thoughts” (and use cringe-inducing terms like “thinky thoughts”) and oldschool culture will come to you… And maybe, while you’re at it, figure out if oldschool means LJ culture, forum culture, FFN culture, mailing list culture, Usenet culture, fanfic convention culture, AMV editor culture, 80s multifandom zine culture, 70s Star Trek zine culture…

[god1ngs]

━‎ ghost of a memory

synopsis; the ghost of a man comes back.

contains; pogtopia wilbur spoilers, yandere themes, mentions of death, implied death, swearing, mentions of stalking, wilbur is a creep in this

yandere c!wilbur soot / reader, 2.8k wc

note; this is the longest thing i've ever written >:)) very proud of this

masterlist

‎ ‎ ‎it was snowing, like it usually was. the layers of snow piled up on the floor only to get crushed down by your boot. you were on your way back to your house, ready to lay down and relax. days were hard now, especially since having moved away from the dream smp and l'manberg.

‎ ‎ ‎it was easy at first, but you were more lonely now. there was no tommy to come greet you in the mornings, or no tubbo to show you his new bee portrait done by someone else. it was lonely, only your presence to comfort you when days got too lonely.

‎ ‎ ‎you lived near techno, phil, and ranboo, but you never really talked to them. while you could hold your own, the angel of death and blood god striked fear into your heart. phil, although somewhat of an intimidating man, had been much different after the explosion of l'manberg.

‎ ‎ ‎you hadn't been there to know what happened, but it was something severely detrimental from what you've heard. and you haven't even heard that much. you heard of how l'manberg was exploded, but didn't know much else. there was a way people looked whenever you asked about it though.

‎ ‎ ‎you set down your things as you came inside your house, tired from the long day of venturing out from the snowy area. you had been trying to find some more resources, having been slowly running out of some minor ones, but wanting to have them nonetheless. sighing, you tiredly looked down at your hands.

‎ ‎ ‎you never went a day without thinking of what you had done with those hands. blood splattered along the calloused palms of them, rough from gripping swords and bows. you regretted your previous decisions, having worked alongside l'manberg. while you didn't regret meeting the people, the experiences would plague you for years to come.

‎ ‎ ‎a knock on your door brung you out of your mind, gentle and soft. it was unlike any of the loud banging from the war. you shook away your troubles, wanting to block out everything from your past as a soldier. you opened the door, hesitantly bringing your hand to the sword rested on your side.

‎ ‎ ‎it was ranboo. he stood at the door, taller than your doorframe, and looking down at you. "oh," you said, retracting your hand from the hilt of it. "hello ranboo. what brings you here?" you were curious, never having really been close to ranboo during your time at l'manberg. you two had become closer since you lived in each others radius, but had never talked for a long time.

‎ ‎ ‎"uh, i just.. i just wanted to ask if you've seen ghostbur. i haven't seen him in a while and was wondering if you have?" the dual boy asked, tugging at his shirt collar. ghostbur? your brows furrowed, a nervousness piling in your stomach. did he mean wilbur? he seemed confident about what he had said though.

‎ ‎ ‎you cleared your throat before speaking again, leaning against the doorframe. "who's ghostbur?" you asked, confused. maybe it was just a mess up with his name, ranboo was very forgetful after all. realization crossed his features, eyes wide. "you don't know who ghostbur is?"

‎ ‎ ‎disbelief coated his tone, shining in his eyes as well. the boy stammered, trying to figure out what to say. "oh boy, uh..." he exhaled harshly, scratching at his neck in nervousness. "do you know what happened when l'manberg was blown up?" you hadn't known much, but you did know what mainly happened ─ l'manberg had been blown to the smithereens.

‎ ‎ ‎"not really, i guess. i mean, i know l'manberg was blown up, but i don't know much besides that." you told ranboo, being confused as to why this was even important. he stayed silent for a minute, cautious as to what he should say. does he just tell you outright that wilbur had been killed and that ghostbur was his ghost?

‎ ‎ ‎he exhaled again, nervous. "well, wilbur is the one who blew up l'manberg and.. phil killed him after." he said, pausing between his words to see your reaction. your eyes were wide, throat dry. there was a deep pit in your stomach, a neverending bad feeling. "he's dead?" your voice trembled as you spoke, brows furrowed.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo nodded, sucking in a breath awkwardly. "i'm sorry i had to be the one to tell you." he said shortly, hands clasped behind his back. you tried to shake it off, laugh and tell him it was fine, but no words could come out. "so," you spoke once you had finally grasped your words. "is ghostbur his.. ghost?"

‎ ‎ ‎he nodded again, rocking on his heels. "he doesn't act anything like from what the old wilbur used to, from what i've heard." he tried to confide you, however it didn't do much to help. you smiled weakly at the male, not exactly knowing how to deal with the information as of now. "thank you, ranboo, and uh, no i haven't seen.. ghostbur. i hope you find him though."

‎ ‎ ‎with that, he thanked you and left you alone for now. you shut the door gently before breaking down. you grasped your hair, sliding against the wooden door. he was dead? while you slid against the door, you began laughing. he was dead. you were gleeful. you laughed and laughed and laughed. god, he was dead.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't know you would ever celebrate a mans passing, but wilbur was different. wilbur was.. obsessive. not only with control, but with you. you always got a weird feeling from him too. he was always with you somehow, always greeting you wherever you would be. he was highly protective of you and, while he passed it off as it due to you being a citizen of his country, you suspected otherwise.

‎ ‎ ‎your gleeful laughter masked the sound of the rustling bushes.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo hadn't known you didn't know of wilbur's passing. he thought maybe phil or someone else would've told you, not him having to break the news to you. you seemed awfully upset, he hoped you would be okay. as he walked, head down with a friend, there was a thought nagging at the back of his head.

‎ ‎ ‎recently, ghostbur had been acting different. he couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off. he tossed the thought when there was a sudden shout of his name. he turned, quickly, seeing the man of the hour. "hello ranboo!" ghostbur said, smiling warmly at the other. "oh, hey ghostbur." he replied, a soft smile painting his face.

‎ ‎ ‎the two talked for a little while, catching up with each other and seeing how the other was. "well actually, i think i left friend at phil's house, do you mind go getting him for me, ranboo?" ghostbur asked, tilting his head at the half and half boy. ranboo's brows furrowed, wondering why he couldn't go get the sheep himself. it was his sheep after all.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo glanced back at his house, rubbing at the back of his neck before answering him. "uh, sure, yeah. i can do that! why can't you go get him though?" he asked, confused. he didn't mind going to go get friend, liking to help out his friends, he was simply curious. "oh, i just have something to do! it's nothing really, but thank you again ranboo!" the airy tone of ghostbur coated with delight, he smiled at the man.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo nodded, wishing him a farewell, before walking away to get more food for the trip. finally. ghostbur smiled, turning to the wooden house you had gone in a few minutes prior.

‎ ‎ ‎he would have you.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't think that today would be the day you celebrate a dead man, but you learned new things everyday. you didn't celebrate per say, you were just happy the british man wouldn't bother you anymore. he had creeped you out when he was alive, but in death he couldn't do anything.

‎ ‎ ‎knocking at your door had interrupted your moment, brows arching at the door. hadn't ranboo just left? maybe there was something else he had to tell you. as you got closer to the door, hand nearly on the doorknob, you hesitated. why would ranboo come right back? it didn't make sense.

‎ ‎ ‎you put your hand on the hilt of your sword, once again preparing you for if you were to get attacked. yet as you opened the door, there only stood a man ─ a man who looked exactly like wilbur soot. from the hair, to the clothes, to the face shape; it all reminded you too much of wilbur.

‎ ‎ ‎"hello! i'm ghostbur!" the man happily introduced himself, smiling warmly at you. this wasn't how wilbur acted? ranboo had told you that ghostbur acted different from him. "uh, hey. why are you here?" awkward and a tad rude, you asked, narrowing your [color] eyes at the brunette. he only smiled.

‎ ‎ ‎translucent, nearly grey in color hands rose up to wave you off. "i just wanted to come meet you! ranboo had said you were a good person! here, do you want some blue?" fishing in his pockets, ghostbur pulled out a small clump of blue. royal blue in color, it made you somewhat happy to look at it. the corners of your mouth twitched.

‎ ‎ ‎you accepted the blue, gently getting it place in your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he did so. you squished it some, finding a certain fondness in the way it felt. maybe he wasn't bad. "may i come in?" the ghost asked, tilting his head quizzically. could you trust this guy enough to let him inside your house?

‎ ‎ ‎you pondered the idea, considering the worse case scenario ─ which would really be just takes all of your things or killing you. you doubt he was able to though, he seemed way too nice to even think about it. he seemed trustworthy and so, without another thought, you let ghostbur inside of your home.

‎ ‎ ‎he thanked you and took a look around, complimenting your interior design with a warm smile. he had that aura, the one that makes you feel comforted in his presence. kind and gentle, he was the type of man to be gentle with anything and everything. he seemed rather innocent as well, a child like enthusiasm in the way he carried himself.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't mind, you actually found it quite admirable. before the war, you had been like that as well. bubbly and warm, smiles that could outshine the sun ─ and now, you were alone, although of your own accord. you had to admit, it was better for it to be like this though. the war and other experiences you shared with l'manberg still haunted your nightmares, causing you to wake up in a cold sweat everytime.

‎ ‎ ‎"[name]," the ghost murmured, looking over the paintings on the wall. "these paintings are quite lovely!" you smiled, agreeing with him. the paintings were nice, as they had been given to you as a president from ranboo. he had magnificent taste, the paintings holding such beauty. you sighed softly, glancing towards ghostbur.

‎ ‎ ‎"hey ghostbur? do you remember anything.. before you died?" you asked, cringing at the question yourself. you assumed it was a question he got a lot, being the ghost of a man who was loved by many, but you couldn't help the curiousity arising in you. he only smiled at you, he always seemed to be smiling.

‎ ‎ ‎"only the good memories! i don't remember any of the bad memories wilbur has!" he answered, still staring at the paintings. he seemed to take a liking to them. you nodded, humming in thought as you glossed over the paintings. "you know," you murmured. "i never really had fond memories with wilbur."

‎ ‎ ‎you had never told anyone of your past experiences with the man, being too scared of being called a liar or saying that you were wrong. wilbur was a man of great charm and charisma, traits he knew how to use to gain what he wants. you knew this first hand, having been on the receiving side of the anger he never showed the public.

‎ ‎ ‎ghostbur was quite for a moment, causing you to look over at him. he seemed deep in thought, eyes nearly wide with a nearly upset look crossing his face. "are you alright?" you asked him, concerned. it would be understandable if he didn't like talking about wilbur, having been the ghost of said man.

‎ ‎ ‎"oh yes, i'm fine! can you tell me about your memories with alivebur?" he asked, looking over at you questionably. you nodded, sitting down on the couch, to where the ghost followed. he sat beside you, almost a little too close for comfort, but he did seem obvious so you chose to let it slide.

‎ ‎ ‎you told ghostbur everything. about how wilbur was a creep. how you suspected he was stalking you. how he had been possessive of you. how you saw a side of wilbur that was never shown to the public. how you never liked him. how wilbur was a deranged man.

‎ ‎ ‎he listened to you quietly, not talking as he stared down at his lap. as you were finished talking, going to ask him if he was okay, he sighed. he shook his head, tsking at you. this was different. confused you scooted away from him, brows furrowed. he only looked up at you, grinning.

‎ ‎ ‎"was my disguise that good?"

‎ ‎ ‎your mouth ran dry. your hands trembled, trembled with fear of the danger lurking in his voice. the madness glinting in his eyes. was this ghostbur? no, this couldn't be. as you stared at him in disbelief, shock coating his features, something started happening. he was melting?

‎ ‎ ‎the grey skin, along with the yellow sweater and beanie, melted off of him. it was like slime dripping, coating your couch in the gooey substance. it disgusted you, how it melted into a puddle of grey just below him. but that was the least of your problem, as the disguise had melted, something sinister lurked below.

‎ ‎ ‎it was wilbur.

‎ ‎ ‎unmistakably, it was wilbur soot.

‎ ‎ ‎the brown hair that bunched up, the dull red beanie atop his head, the brown trenchcoat that coated his features. you backed away, horrified. standing up, you tried to run, yet he only laughed. a sickening laugh that made you stop in place, eyes wide with fear. your feet were glued to the floor, unable to move despite your door beckoning you to run.

‎ ‎ ‎the crazed look in the mans expression would be one you would never forget. he laughed maniacally, grin wide with unmasked enthusiasm. "you really thought it was ghostbur!? that little punk, yeah? you thought wrong, sweetheart!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls, surrounding your every direction, making it impossible to escape.

‎ ‎ ‎who knew you would be trapped inside your own house?

‎ ‎ ‎you could hardly find the words to talk, the phrases getting stuck in your throat as you simply shook your head. it couldn't be wilbur. why was he here? how was he here? the man, who you previously believed to be ghostbur, had been inside your house. you had ranted to him on your troubles with his alive state, unaware he was the one you were speaking to.

‎ ‎ ‎"you- how? how are you - how are you here?" you mustered out, your voice weak. you could barely make them out, quiet and frail. he laughed once more, throwing his head back with unfiltered euphoria. he was so joyous, so content with watching you fall apart in front of him. watching you break down was what he wanted.

‎ ‎ ‎"i always come back, sweetheart, you should know this." he said, smirking devilishly. he walked to you, triumph yelling with every step he took. you backed away as he came closer, fearfully backing away from the brunette until your back hit a wall. alarm coursed through you, desperately trying to look around for a way to leave, a way to escape the misery that would soon come.

‎ ‎ ‎he stalked up to you, stopping in front of you. he was even more terrifying up closer. the broad shoulders and the looming shadow over your figure terrifying you more than anything ever had. "sweetheart!" the pet name rolled off of his tongue, almost in a sing song tone. you hadn't even noticed the tears running down your face until he wiped them away.

‎ ‎ ‎"don't cry, don't cry," wilbur muttered, pulling you closer to him, bringing your scared form into his chest. you tensed, worry clear in your figure as you tried to fight back. you tried to pull away, muttering how you didn't want this. you didn't want wilbur to touch you, to hold you as if he was someone special to you. "why do you keep trying to pull away from me?"

‎ ‎ ‎once you had finally pulled away from him, you looked at him in the eyes. you were still backed up against a wall, knowing your end was nearer than you thought. you glared at him one last time, choosing to pick fight over flight, and spit in his face.

‎ ‎ ‎"fuck you, wilbur soot."

‎ ‎ ‎blood splattered on the walls seconds later.