#ok relivant tag time

[zero-is-nebulous]

Okay I can't take it anymore

Here's an in depth analysis on Sonic and Knuckles, their relationship to the other, and the sun and moon design trope

Sonic

Sonic is, at his core, a free spirit. He is constantly looking for adventure, and jumping into action whenever he is needed. This often puts him into opposition against various bad guys, because the more he defeats them, the more that pop up and want to have a go at the impossible challange.

And like, take over the world, I guess. Typical villain stuff

It's also important to note that, in cannon, sonic is 15 years old. Being a hero at such a young age, I mean, wow that's gotta be some responsibility. Originally, speaking from origins, Sonic just started out using his speed to help little animals get out of traps. Then, just a kid, he encounters eggman and finds out he's behind such a terrible thing. He doesn't know what to do, obviously, because he's a literal child, but knows he can't let his animal friends be hurt like this.

He also knows that he's not like the other mobians, he's faster, more resilient, and that makes him the perfect candidate for the job. He takes down eggman's bigger bots, rescues flickies, and everything is good!

Until eggman retaliates. Because obviously the evil bad guy can't let anyone foil his plans! Anyway, this is a rough timeline of events as to how Sonic most probably got stuck being the hero. He helped some animals, and the threat got bigger, but he stuck with it because he realised he COULD do some good with his powers. Then the threats escalated, and now the entire world depends on him.

(Also, it's worth noting here that Sonic has the 'live in the moment' mentality. Obviously he does heroism because he CARES, like a lot, and he wants OTHER people to be able to enjoy their own 'live in the moment' mentalities because he's an optimist and wants the best for people. Obviously that's also one of the driving forces of his heroism, he's a surprisingly complex character ok it's hard to put it all into words all at once. But this also means that he tries to have fun with it, he DOES enjoy his adventures. Hes clearly a bit of a thrill seeker, he makes the most of a bad situation no matter how dire it is because not only is that a coping mechanism, but one of his personal life mottos. I also personally beleive that he knows how dangerous his line of work is, and that if he DOESNT live life to the most while he has it, he'll regret it in the event that he doesnt make it back one day)

Anyway

Along the way, he's stopped worrying about himself, because he's developed a hero complex. All the pressure put on his character makes him disregard his own safety for others, always making HUGE personal sacrifices for the 'greater good', and pushing his pain aside just so he can help. Sonic is still a child, and he's grown up around violence and heroism and now he has a duty to protect people. Because he can.

Because he's the ONLY one who can

People say so on multiple occasions. When it's, not entirely true? I mean, don't get me wrong, Sonic is a force to be reckoned with, and at some point that statement may have even been true! But its just,,,not, anymore??

When shadow first arrived he was established to have speed that matches sonics, at least to some extent, and a steely moral compass as a result of his past with Maria. He joins GUN in an attempt to make good on his promise (and probably some other government stuff, I mean being an experiment from 50 years ago gets you tangled up in some shit), and he can TELEPORT, as well as hone chaos energy in ways that Sonic can't even manage.

Well, we've never seen him manage, at least.

Here's a quick list of all of Shadows abilities:

Super speed

Immortality

Increased stamina

Spindash

Ability to use firearms

Chaos control (teleportation)

Chaos control (ability to slow or stop time, apparently?)

Chaos spear

Chaos blast

Increased healing factor

Super form

Now, here's a lost of Sonics abilities:

Super speed

Increased acrobatics and agility

Resilience to damage

Strong sense of spirit

Increased stamina

Spindash

Hand to hand combat skills

Chaos control (+1 emerald)

Super form

Both hedgehogs have an impressive arsenal of abilities under their belt, for sure. But even with Sonics collection of skills, some of them are just that. Skills

For Shadow, Chaos energy runs through his veins so extremely that he needs to wear POWER CANCELLING cuffs. He was designed, built, for such power. Take note of how Sonics list includes more generalised and LEARNABLE skills, while Shadows includes more actual 'powers', so to speak

So. Is sonic the ONLY one capable of saving the world? NO! in fact, Shadow has helped do just that on multiple occasions. I'm not saying one is more powerful than the other, or better suited to the role, but Sonic is under the impression that he's alone in this when he's not

Shadow may not have sonics optimism, or social superiority, but he's a GOOD hedgehog, and they both possess amazing abilities that they choose to use for good. Sonics often telling people that they don't have to fight alone, but often takes the leap and does JUST THAT When he deems a situation too dangerous for anyone to risk their lives for

Once, he was the only mobian with powers strong enough to face great evils. Even with the help of Tails and Amy, they were both still kids, younger than himself, who were normal all things considered. Yes, Tails could fly, and yes, Amy could haul a hammer twice her size, but they were still not as strong as him. So, they couldn't be risked. Underneath it all, despite their help, he was always stronger, always the most fit for life threatening missions, and he would take it all in stride

And then there was Knuckles, and then Shadow, and then Silver and Blaze somewhere down the line. All superpowered beings to some extent, having chaos energy (or sol energy) running through them at such a rate that they could ACTUALLY compare to Sonic.

Once, he was the ONLY person strong enough to take on the threats alone. But now? There are others, strong and diffrent like him, who could equally take on the fight with or without his help.

And yes, as they grow and get stronger, the threats DO tend to get more dangerous, but that's why they're all there together. Obviously the threat level will increase, and they will always find away to defeat it per the age rating on the game being allowable for the delicate emotions of optimistic children (and me) that our hero's can concour ANYTHING. But still, they have so many allies that that almost doesn't matter

My point being; he does not need to take on all this pressure by himself.

A lot of the time, at least with major threats such as the metal virus or neo metal sonic (shout out to IDW comics for consuming my brain and producing the most gut wrenching storyline to ever exist in the sonic universe) he's almost FORCED to accept help? I'm not saying he wouldn't have already, but he had a bit of a tendancy to be like 'hey, I got this' *finger guns* when he does not in fact got this. And sure maybe he does eventyally and all that, but you have to admit a LOT of the threats he takes on are like ridiculous to the point you have to brace yourself when he goes into battle. Likes we know sonic is strong but Jesus, that little man takes on some POWERFUL enemies

(Quick case and point: metal virus, being captured on the death egg in forces, being KILLED BY MEPHILES!!! Clearly he isn't indestructible, sometimes he bites off more than he can chew alone)

Ok back on topic now.

The MAIN reason why people look to him as 'the only one who can help them' is because of reputation and carisma. You know why Shadow was disposed of so quickly during the metal virus arc? Because he would have been a GREAT help, and the two of them working together would have toppled the virus MUCH quicker

(And bc they reversed his goddamn character arc AGAIN bc nobody can get it right apparently)

Anyway, because Sonic has gone his entire life with his mentality, people have looked up to him on some kind of pedestal. This just deepens the cycle of it all, making him hold himself accountable, or bare too much burden, and the confident facade is just the icing on the cake.

Because people look up to him, as a hero, a role model, and as a GOOD, and FRIENDLY person. They see him, caring and kind and never giving up, and rely on him. In contrast, Shadow keeps to a distance and is mostly cold to civilians, with the exception of Cream and possibly Vanilla and the Chaotix (Although wether the chaotix should be considered civilians is up for debate). This means that less people call to HIM, when they're in danger. He's under less pressure, people don't put him under a spotlight, but they DO with sonic

And now, whether he wants it or not, he is THE hero

Admittedly, I think Sonic does enjoy being a hero

To an extent, he sort of has to be. He's kind and caring cause that's who he is. He runs because he wants to, and he saves people because he wants to as well. Obviously there's pressure there, but he got into it in the first place because he wanted to do good. And doing a good thing makes him...Happy. content. Proud, even

Hes free like the wind, is what they say, and he IS. He doesn't WANT to quit being a hero, but I'd imagine sometimes he thinks about it. It's a stressful life, every eye on you when something goes wrong, waiting for you to fix it. And sometimes he doesn't have the answers, and that's okay

But some people won't see it that way, see him as a failure. And that's the true bitterness of being worshipped

So yes, while he's sort of trapped in his role, I wouldn't say he wanted to let go of it anyway. He knows someone has to do it, which is a daunting feeling because he also knows that person has to be HIM- but, he enjoys saving people, so it's not all bad

Knuckles

Knuckles the echidna, the last of his tribe, stuck on a floating island in complete isolation.

Well, there's a lot to say about him, I'll admit. So, let's just start small

First of all, Knuckles' isolation has left him slightly naive, which was the original reason that he fell for eggmans lies. This is, of course, because he's been alone for SO long, that he hadn't a clue as to the social clues of a lie. That, and his ONE presumed purpose in life was to look after the master emerald, in which he would do anything to protect

So, a mixture of passion, protectiveness, rage, and naivety, were what lead to the events of Sonic 3 and Knuckles.

The absolute isolation and lack of alterior purpose leave knuckles struggling a lot. He has other ambitions and goals, obviously, he LOVES exploring, and he can read many ancient dialecs which come from his architect passion. The one thing keeping him confined to his island is the emerald

And the implications that follow. See, he's the last of his kind. And, because of that, he has NOBODY who can understand the EXACT and finite details of his situation on an emotional level. He can ask nobody for guidance, instead fumbling blindly under the belief that 'this is what they would have wanted', without actually being able to ASK

Knuckles protects the master emerald because he thinks it's what he's supposed to do. And, It is obviously, but he's so focused on not disappointing his fallen tribe that he disregards his own wellbeing a lot for it

He stays at the shrine 24/7, only leaving when the fate of, quite literally, the ENTIRE WORLD is at stake. He's on his island, alone. Speaking realistically, no one person should be assigned that task. Within the tribe before their passing, many would have protected the emerald, and in healthy shifts

Except, Knuckles doesn't have that choice. So he's cemented to his fate, but he does WANT to do other things. In fact, his time on the island has probably INCREASED the hunger for exploration and adventure

So, let's think forces for a second.

Knuckles was the captain of almost an entire ARMY, he lead them, and took on the pressure of responsibility, and that's something quite interesting. See, you'd assume that his time on the island would null his skills with others in that regard, but he has a striking skill when it comes to organisational battle plans.

Hes the same in the metal virus arc

Knuckles is often taking up big, important positions despite his initial lack of social grace. And, deep down, I think this is connected to his tribe.

See, he has this task that he's been confined to, with no guidance at all. He thrives off of the assumption of his tribe, and does his job with steely focus. When he takes up that position as a leader, he takes up the responsibility that weighs similarly to the responsibility of taking care of the master emerald

(Here, he's also able to give OTHER people the guidance he so needed in his times of struggle. By being that someone that can be trusted, and looked to for answers, I feel like it almost quenches some of his deep rooted abandonment issues)

In both scenarios, people are expecting him to protect something, and lead. Be strong, responsible, and altogether a beacon of hope. The key difference is that, this time, he has reassurance. He can see his efforts paying off, he can see his plans play live infront of his eyes, and he saves people. Directly, not just through avoidance, but ACTIVELY protects people

But it's a lot

Even for Knuckles, it's a LOT. because when you're guarding something with expectations of people who aren't there, there's no disappointment. There's only assumedly so, (which im pretty sure hes prone to exagerating because he holds his old tribe up on the same sort of pedistal that most hold sonic. In the sort of heavenly devinity that makes the 'they can do no wrong' thing really prominant, but also he knows about traditions and rules and probaly assumes that they would be SUPER strict, so he holds himself in extremely high expectation as if to please a god) and there isn't death. There isn't pressure that grows as tides change, as people leave and get presumed dead, as lives under his watch aren't at risk. War is an ever changing responsibility, where REAL lives that you can actually comprehend because they're right in front of you, are at stake

I imagine he originally took up the role because watching the master emerald is similar. He protects mobian and human lives alike by doing so, if he watches the emerald and stops it from being stolen, he protects people. And if he watches over this army of people and steers them in the right way, he protects people

Also, it's clear from frontiers that Knuckles is actually really interested in strategy and ancient combat and the like. So it's also possible it's a part of his architect and exploratory interest in diffrent historical events peeking through

When Sonic was taken to the death egg, people assumed he was dead. Sonic was, by all means, a beacon of hope. He provided determination, and gave everybody the idea that, eventually, they would get out of the tough spot

So, when he 'died', Knuckles was left with that job. He had to keep moral high, and hope imminent.

But he's not that good at it. He preaches glory, victory, an end to the war, but people lose hope anyway because Sonic is held in such high regard that people can't seem to beleive that he was bested. And if sonic was bested, then, well...what's the use in trying? NOBODY could match his skill, and he's dead now. So hope is gone and what's the point?

So, it's a tough spot for him. He's lost a friend, everybody is depressed, he doesn't know the first thing about sonics impression of hope, and he's stuck playing leader to a war he himself is giving up on

Don't get him wrong, he wants to WIN. wants to avenge those who killed his friend, and face glory and peace once again. But he just...can't. The pressure is piling up, and while he gradually builds up others confidence, he sees EVERYTHING. He sees the lies put in place of hope, and he doesn't know what to do

Sonic was the one who introduced him to the concept of anything and everything outside of his island, taught him hope and friendship, and now he's dead.

Anyway, while knuckles is a good leader, he's not mentally adjusted for all of its tribulations. As is common for leaders during GENUINE warfare, but I digress

Knuckles and Sonic are simular in the way that they both take on so much pressure. They both have tasks that they 'NEED to do' because they're the ONLY ones fit for the task. In knuckles' case it's much more literal, but LIKE sonics case, it just isn't like that anymore

Having friends now makes looking after the emerald easier than ever. He may not have his tribe, but he's sort of...built a new one, out of the friends he's made. He doesn't have to be there ALONE. People would help, hell, they could take a note out of Sonic underground's book and hand Knuckles a bunch of island defense systems. We all know tails would be more than up for the job

Still, he takes on this responsibility because he assumes its expected of him. And, maybe it WAS

But he's his own person, and he deserves his own life. He has a connection with chaos energy that makes him perfect as the protector, but thats not all he is. And he knows it.

Also, I want to bring back the hidden magic cave for the master emerald to live in. It would be so much harder to steal if it wasn't just sitting at an open air alter on the top of a floating island like a BEACON. Sonic 3 and Knuckles had that hiding spot on POINT, imagine how much safer the emerald would be, and how much more FREEDOM knuckles would have, if tails just upgraded that bad boy a little bit

It's a fixable problem, guys. I know sega wants to have an open plot point at ALL times, so they make the master emerald easier to steal, but Jesus man, you gotta give my guy a break. Why introduce an entire hidden space, perfect for the containment and protection of the master emerald, and then NOT put it there??? DUDE

(That's also probably another reason for the game not being considered cannon. Ik another reason is hyper sonic, obviously, but both concepts kick ass and I want them back. Petition to make sonic 3 and knuckles cannon)

Sonic and Knuckles

Okay, I know I touched up on their relationship a bit in the Knuckles' rundown, but there's a lot more to say. Also, I'm aware that the Knuckles section was disappointingly short, his character has a LOT going on, but there's not a lot to actually say since a lot of it is pretty obvious. Most of Knuckles' interesting attributes actually come out when prompted by others, due to his isolation, which is where Sonic comes in

Sonic and Tails were the second people he met in his LIFE. and he has a good relationship with Tails that I may talk on at a later date, but his relationship with Sonic is genuinely really interesting

See, Sonic was a literall PROPHECY. He was engraved into the rocks on the island, and he was most likely studied and theorised about in his time on the island.

For knuckles, with nothing to do but wait, I have no doubt that he read those texts RELENTLESSLY. so he knows of this hedgehog, prophecised to protect the world from threat, and then he meets a hedgehog. Obviously he's been tricked, but the dots don't connect until they're on the same side, because he's so disconnected from things outside his island, that he can't actually comprehend at first that THIS, right here, infront of his very eyes, is an actual PROPHECY. I bet he wasn't expecting to live at the same time as him, maybe he assumed it'd already happened, or would soon happen long after his own life. Its just not every day you befriend a prophecy okay, I Don't blame the poor guy

(Also, sidebar. How does he know how to read? To talk??? Ik echidna come from eggs so him being born there, fine, I can accept. But HOW is he possibly able to comprehend writings not only in ancient texts, but the more modern language as well??? Was it the master emerald? Does it talk to him? Did it TEACH knuckles how to fucking read? Talk??)

And in a way, that gives Knuckles a link back to his tribe. And that link, of all things, is SONIC

Because somehow, his tribe has prophecised his existence, and the good he'd bring with him. They had deemed this mobian so important that they carved his image into rock. Surely, he must have been a common topic

Would they be proud of knuckles for being the one to greet him? Or would they shrivel up in disappointment at their first interactions?

Sonic and Knuckles have an interesting character dynamic, because they're both simular, while also being drastically opposite from one another

They both uphold ridiculous responsibility. Sonic is the protector of the people, there to fight off any threats and keep them safe. Knuckles is the protector of the master emerald, a more behind the scenes method of protection, as if it was left in the wrong hands, people would surely die. More than that, they're both hero's to the public

They also both adore adventure and exploration

Knuckles is a solitary creature, moreso by habit than by introvertedness, and his passions in traveling are often squandered by his job

Sonic is an outgoing creature, always social and optimistic. This is partially his extrovertedness, and partially his general likeness. While I wouldn't say sonic is an introvert either, maybe saying he's an extrovert Is also not necessarily true. In sonic x especially, he's shown to very much enjoy his time alone, although fluctuates that mantra when in the company of those he trusts

Anyway, Sonic is free flowing, able to do whatever he wants really. And knuckles is the opposite. While they both strive for simular things, their actual actions are very diffrent

Sonic is also optimistic, outgoing, energetic, and generally quite relaxed. Knuckles on the other hand, is reclusive, cold, calculating and fierce. He often refuses to 'relax', taking his position as guardian VERY seriously

Their personalities mesh surprisingly well, considering all of this

When Knuckles was introduced to society via flying fox and prophecy 'god', that cemented the end of an era for him. Obviously he knew there was things outside of his island, but things like technology, and all the things that existed outside that he'd never even heard of, often turns a guys perspective upside down.

So Sonic and Tails introduced society, and friendship. Sonic is stubborn, not one to give up on things he's pursuing, and his friendship with Knuckles is no different. Because Knuckles is so used to isolation, he struggles to accept the drastic change that his life Is undergoing, and part of that change is the inclusion of people

So he acts cold on purpose a lot to deter people, as a protection for himself, and the master emerald. Cause, if someone gets close to him, he may let his guard down and then the emerald would be at risk. He's afraid of forming any type of relationships at first because he's never had to forge one before, and he doesn't know how to feel about it all

Luckily for him, Sonic is stubborn. He sees someone lonely, and able to kick his ass, and thinks 'yeah, we are actually going to be best friends I think'

Anyway because of Sonics stubbornness, and consistency, Knuckles and him are friends. I imagine that Sonic visits him, as well as their other friends, but Sonic specifically doesn't seem the type to just LET knuckles be alone on an island

Plus the tornado IS his plane, he could fly it up if he really wanted to

Anyway throughout the years, Knuckles and Sonic have a healthy respect for one another. They were rivals once, and then friends, but they aren't afraid to challange eachother because they're truly equals

So Sonic and Knuckles are friends. Cool, great. HOW does this relate to the sun and moon dynamic further than their original opposites?

I'm so glad you asked!

Sun and moon

So for some context, for those of you who are unaware, Sonic and knuckles designs are representing the Sun and moon by CANNON DESIGN CHOICES. Sonics tummy fur is meant to represent the sun, and obviously, Knuckles sidewards crescent moon is meant to represent, well, the MOON

The way that the sun and moon dynamic works is like this:

"a merging of opposites , unity and cooperation instead of conflicts, and rebirth"

Thanks Pinterest matching tattoo post!

Anyway, at the start, Knuckles and Sonic are at odds. They're complete opposites at a first glance. And then they're given the chance to be better, be friends, and suddenly their dynamic is just the best thing in the world ever oh god its SO PURE AND SLAY?!?!

The moons characteristics are as follows

Constant

Steady

Reliable

Straightforward / blunt

Compassionate

The sun's characteristics are as follows

Impulsive

Energetic

Strong willed

Intense

THESE ARE THEIR TRAITS!!!

Knuckles is often the one to have a level head. Yes he is shown to have bursts of anger, or lapses in judgement, but it's driven by his passion (And his emotional stunted upbringing). People often turn to him in times of need within their friendship group because he's well known to be wise, at least about chaos energy (which is most often what they need to know about anyway, hoorah for world centric magic types). He's blunt because of his lack of social awareness mostly. And while he's getting better, he's still pretty straightforward. He doesn't seem to care about sugar coating things for people, with the more 'this is how it is, undiluted, face the world and its problems' vibe

And Sonic. He's impulsive because he wants to live while he still can, he's energetic because speed literally RUNS THROUGH HIS VEINS like a vice, unstoppable and unrealistic. He's strong willed and determined, never backing down, STUBBORN in a way that Knuckles can almost match. Knuckles has been proven to share that drive, its one of their common grounds, but he also knows when to quit. That's their separation, because Sonic doesn't take no for an answer when lives are at stake. He's intense, all encompassing. His presence is almost distracting. Not only because of his social status but just because of his general vibe, sunny and bold

I like to bring actual science into this because it makes the metaphor even better IMO, so let me set the scene

Knuckles is the moon, because he is distant. He likes to keep to himself, and he is steadfast. He is strong, steady, and confident. He has an important purpose that he takes very seriously, and has lived his life in gentle solitude in tune with the nature away from him. He has spent a lot of his life floating, separated from people and their kinship

Enter: Sonic T. Hedgehog. He's intense in a way that is so noticeable that knuckles CANNOT ignore. Its a passion that he respects, and eventually, he finds himself closer than ever to him. You'd think being so close to the sun would get you burned, and it's maybe that apprehension that keeps him at a steady distance even still. Even when his light seems to bring out all of the best parts of him

Just like the moon only lights up the night sky because of the suns grace, Knuckles is only able to let himself flourish because Sonic had brought all of the best parts about him to light. It's cheesy, sure, but it's something he cherishes because he feels more like himself than he ever has in his solitude

There's still this fear, at arms length, because Sonic is so good. If he's a sun he is worshipped. He is looked up to and loved, people bathe in his light and leave gifts at his alter. He is so far away, it's insane

But maybe he doesn't notice, that people worship the moon too. And the sun is the biggest supporter. He shines so that people appreciate him, see all that he does. And people regard them together, because its the sun and the moon. They both float so far away from everyone else, only close enough to eachother by sheer magnitude. They're imposing and intense, and nobody else can even get close. And no matter how many people worship the sun, there is only one who may get close enough to FEEL his heat

And that is the moon

[fromemotoangel]

if anyone cares have an angel and vic anecdote because i miss her! when we got home on the 19th we were all really tired, we lowkey weren't even thinking about dan and phil at that point because we desperately needed rest. i think at this point everybody else was in the middle of changing or packing. vic was just sitting on the floor folding something and i was compelled to tackle them. a second after we both simultaneously realized that we Did The Thing and we started laughing hysterically about it (because it was funny and also we were exhausted). and in our fervor vic knocked our heads together and hit their nose on my forehead. it was still red the next day. i have been rotating this moment in my mind since friday because pinof day and that was So fucking funny

[frecklystars]

Wow, 32 asks. Thank you guys so much 😭😭 last night was one of the worst shifts I ever had at work. I feel like i keep reverting back to a year ago when everything was fresh. it's been extraordinarily difficult the past couple of months but it always eases the ache when I read nice messages. it genuinely calms me down a lot when other people tell me it's gonna be ok. so thank you to everyone who took the time to do that for me ;-;

I'm gonna be honest, I feel super hopeless. I am not getting joy from anything right now. Drawing, socializing, watching movies, listening to music, I'm feeling *absolutely nothing*. I am triggered by the SMALLEST fucking things that I thought I was getting better at handling. I'm having trouble wearing skirts again. I'm flinching around the color pink when I was doing SO much better with it. For the last nine days, I haven't gone three hours without having a panic attack. I'm not sleeping. My flashbacks are lasting longer. I'm having out of body experiences again for the first time in almost a year. I feel so hopeless. I told myself one year ago "hey I feel like I'm dying right now my ptsd is so fucking bad but! hey! one year from now, I'll feel better! this will feel so far away from me!" but I don't. I don't feel better. I don't think it's possible to feel better bc I'm too broken. It's been over a year and I don't feel like it's possible for me to make progress.

My Barbie/Ken anniversary is coming up and I was excited for the first couple of weeks, but right now I just... feel absolutely nothing. I am so, so, so severely depressed and my anxiety is getting worse every day. I need help out of my unsafe situation so fucking bad dude it's just gonna kill me. I'm so scared this whole thing is gonna genuinely kill me. I wish I could talk about it but I don't want to scare people but at the same time, it's so bad and it's weighing on me so heavily and I am so fuckign tired of dealing with this every single day

I don't know if I'm gonna go offline or not, bc my problem isn't even online. so... I don't see how being offline would help much. I just feel like I'm supposed to do SOMETHING, literally ANYTHING to feel something. Going offline last time made me feel significantly worse, so maybe that shouldn't be my next step. But I feel nothing when I'm blogging right now. I tried making a Jacob edit the other day and I felt no joy. I want to be filling up my queue for the 21st, all of my Barbie and Ken photos and gifsets. I should be writing Barbie and Ken love notes. I should be making video edits again! but I feel nothing!!! This is the one and only anniversary that actually matters to me this year - sorry to the other 12 Ryan F/Os who have anniversaries but THIS ONE is THE most important one, because these two characters are the F/Os that have helped me the most with my abuse trauma/cptsd. They're the whole reason why I started self shipping again. I want to celebrate that. I want to be excited about it. I am just so fucking numb.

I NEED to feel something for this anniversary, I miss celebrating F/O anniversaries! I don't get to do that anymore since self shipping was ruined for me! Since my main F/Os were ruined for me! I deserve to have a good time with my new F/Os!! I am a good person and I am kind despite all the bullshit I've been through and I work really hard to try to heal from shit! I try to stay positive and I try to help people and I!!! Deserve!! To have a day where I feel good with my F/Os without reliving every single horrifying vile thing that someone did to me! but I feel so empty right now and it hurts! I was excited a couple of weeks ago when I was planning all the activities i was gonna do on the 21st, like a restaurant and a movie and baking and throwing a party with my friends, but now?? Nothing. Absolutely NOTHING in my heart. I feel so goddamn empty. I am so depressed. I really really feel like I can't get better. It's been over a year and I am incapable of healing from my trauma and I don't know what to do about it. I am trying so many things to heal!! I'm going walking, I'm eating way healthier and cutting sugar to see if that helps clear my head a bit more, I'm getting sun, I'm drinking so much water, I'm exercising, I've cut my screen time significantly and reading more often, I'm hanging out with my friends as much as I can, I am trying everything in the book and I feel like a zombie just sitting here and rotting to death, going through the motions and reliving my trauma in my head over and over and over and over and over and over again and I can't get any fucking peace. It's like everybody in the world is living their days while the planet is spinning but I am stuck in the same spot reliving the most horrific bullshit imaginable over and over and over. I feel like I've lost almost 2 years of my life to trauma. I don't feel like I've aged, I feel like everything happened yesterday. I feel like I'm stuck in one spot while everybody else is walking forward and I can't move.

Sorry to ramble I didn't mean to turn this into a vent post but idk what else to do. I don't know if I should go offline on my actual anniversary or maybe a couple of days leading up to it?? Or maybe I'm supposed to BE online and blog about the F/Os to see if that helps me feel better?? Being offline made me feel worse. But being online isn't helping me either. Dude I don't fucking know. I need to work on some crafts or something. I need to make a BarbieLand diorama and paint it. I'm gonna bake heart shaped cookies for the first time this weekend. I'm gonna invite my friends over and we're gonna have a party on Sunday and watch the Barbie movie together. I don't know what else to do but I have to just... keep trying I guess even though I feel nothing while doing these things, it's better than doing nothing

If anyone has advice or something, it's more than welcome. Or even just a "wow, that's rough, buddy". I'm sorry for being negative, I try to remain positive on this hellsite but it's so hard right now. Thank you again to everyone who wrote me a nice message last night when I was hurting. I'm sorry I'm gonna probably be asking for encouraging messages a few more times in the next few weeks bc supportive messages are the only things that have been effectively (affectively?) helping me lately

[britneyshakespeare]

last night i started rereading david copperfield. i've read so much new literature this year, i wouldn't say im "burnt out" but i feel like im cycling through things so fast that i... i dont know. i dont feel like i get to have them melt into me as satisfyingly as they used to although that might also be a product of how i feel about my overall *life* right now, idk. deep stuff but anyway.

i havent read a novel in almost four years. i have been too ashamed to pick them back up and i left off in the middle of the professor by charlotte bronte, which i always felt ashamed for being unable to finish. someday ill reread the beginning and finish it, but yadda yadda yadda i hate that nagging feeling that i HAVE to do something. reading should not feel like a chore. which is also how ive felt about my reading plays at such a quick rate this year. not that its a CHORE, like im not enjoying it, but like it's a daily task im distracting myself with to get some temporary pleasure and im cycling from one to the next at an almost monotonous rate. i can't keep living in my imagination like this. hiding from the world and pouring myself into new ones.

i always figured id want to reread david copperfield someday, too. it's one of my three favorite novels ive ever read (not that ive read SO many novels, but still). i think of it often. and i dont think of it like it's a highly literary or intellectual novel. i think of it like an old sitcom or a newspaper strip. like a victorian peanuts or full house. i've never forgotten a bunch of the characters' catchphrases and i've continued to slip them into conversation with people who don't understand them just to overly-explain a joke that only i'm really going to find funny. because that IS the kind of person i am.

ive only read the first four chapters so far. i just cant wait to get to aunt betsey's place, to be honest. i didn't even think about this part... this is the first novel i'm reading since i became an aunt. i never had a character in the book i related to *too* much; i had certain things in common with dora and i loved her, but we weren't one and the same. but my niece is only two and a half months old and i already feel like oh yeah. oh yeah i'd take this little girl in after she ran away from her abusive boarding school. i'd provide for this girl. i'd raise her with my neurodivergent friend that i live with. i would do ANYTHING for her.

[castingcomets]

Every summer I feel like i've grown a lot and I'll do better this time around but then the Autumn hits and the specific way it makes me feel has changed and grown and compounded too and now like every year im sitting here with so much homework feeling so lost and uncertain. And I want to make cookies

[lauradonnelly]

tas my beloved are you okay 🥺💕

my sweet fyscka 🥺

[heartpascal]

is it freedom?

▹— spiderverse (future) found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: after losing everything, you struggle to accept the one thing you needed all along.

▹— a/n: ok i have been enabled by exactly two (2!) people. (thank you both) SO dare i start a spiderverse series??? IF YALL WANT MORE OF THIS… I WILL DO IT. this is really just a set up thing idk but i feel like arachnid has potential for further parts and ACTUAL found family!! also haven’t tagged people on my general taglist bc idk if you guys want to be tagged in ALL works or just all pedro works :(

▹— warnings: slight across the spiderverse spoilers, not really found family yet, injuries, blood, treating own injuries, stitches, fighting (canon-typical violence yall), dead parents (mentioned a LOT), a whole lot of angst (it’s a spider-person so what do we expect), reader has a whole lot of bad thoughts, loneliness, isolation

masterlist PART TWO

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Had you known what this, this thing, would lead to, you would have never started it. Not that you had done so purposely, at least to begin with, more so happening as an event of pure chance. You were in the right place at the right time, and since then, you had been addicted.

But if you could go back, look at yourself just a year younger than you are now, tell that kid what would come if you went through with saving a life for the first time, you wondered. It was a question that scratched deep in your brain, sending you off balance the more you thought about it; would you have still done it? Would you have saved that person’s life, knowing it would lead to your own falling apart?

You would like to think yes. In fact, you know that back then, when your eyes were bright at the prospect of helping people, when you still marvelled at the world like it was good, you would have been certain that it would be worth it. Why should that person die, just to save you? It’s a harrowing realisation. A conclusion that makes your fingers tremble, your voice shake. Now, you’re not sure you would do it. You don’t think you could bear to face that decision knowing what you know of the world around you now.

It’s something cruel, really, that the spider that bit you gave you these powers, and nothing to go back and fix your mistakes. Your perceived victories. Your losses.

But the worst has already happened, and the only one left to die is you, so you carry on. You don the suit every day, you sew up your own injuries on the top floor of the abandoned offices that you’ve claimed as your own. Each day, you wake when you choose, you sleep when you want to, and you work yourself down to your very bones with nobody to object.

The hollow feeling in your gut is a pain you have no choice to ignore, to smother with assurances that this is freedom. What else could it be? You do whatever you so please, you spend your time swinging through the streets of New York rather than doing schoolwork at home, you eat all the junk you could ever have wanted.

It’s freedom. It has to be.

You tell yourself that you don’t miss the home part of having to do schoolwork, promise your heart that you don’t miss home-cooked meals as opposed to greasy food that leaves you unsatisfied. You swear that you like having nobody to tell you what to do. There’s no other choice, after all.

And each day, when you spend a little bit longer out on the streets, getting yourself into needless fights that the police could certainly handle, you tell yourself it’s because you’re protecting the city. You convince yourself that it’s not because of having an unending rage to satiate, or a permanent feeling of breathlessness when you leave police to handle anything, as if you could relive the moment your father, the captain, was left to handle something he couldn’t.

So, you’re almost relieved by the appearance of something… strange. Something dangerous. This is what you live for — this is your job.

You crouch against the wall, fingers splayed and suit itching where you had crudely sewn it back together across your ribs at an almost too-close call. You hold your breath, you watch. The lenses over your eyes shield your sensitive sight from the harshest colours of this new opponent, who looks almost… unreal. Too different to be a part of reality. He yells out, seemingly glitching? A distorted scream of what is apparently pain, accompanied by flashes of colour that are unfamiliar to you.

“Well, that doesn’t look good.” You comment, eyebrows raised beneath your mask, and the strange looking guy snaps his head towards you, long hair slapping across the goggles over his eyes. He bares his teeth at you, something almost resembling a grin marring his face.

“Spider-man!” He yells triumphantly, cackling as he wipes the hair away from his face, tendrils unfurling from behind his back and lifting him into the air.

“Not quite!” You call back, dodging below the metallic arm that shoots towards where your head was, crumbling through the wall. You try to think back to the jokes you used to tell to rile up whoever you were facing, but find your mind is blank. Instead, all you can think of is questions. “Where the hell did you come from, anyway?”

The man follows you as you spring from wall to wall, heading towards the center of the building where it tunnels up for about forty floors, balconies overlooking the fountain below. “A new spider, eh? Well I’ll take you down just as easily as I have the other!” He tells you, though you’re immediately suspicious of his statement. You’re the only Spider-related hero around, and even if you weren’t, you doubt this guy could squash a worm, let alone you.

“Sure thing, man.” You say, sighing, already exhausted by the repetitiveness that comes with every fight. Your opponents always say they’ll beat you, kill you, squish you, take you down, and yet you always get back up at the end of the fight, and they always remain defeated. When you started doing this, you never would have thought you’d get so tired from winning all the time.

And yet here you are, slipping further and further up the building with the octopus-looking guy chasing after you, metal arms crumbling walls and bannisters on his way up. He falters once more, another one of those glitch-like movements sending him down a few floors, but he’s quick to recover. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

You crouch down on one balcony, somewhere around the thirty mark floor-wise, peering down at the guy as he shakes lingering pain from his body. He charges upwards, aiming to reach you quickly with an almost predatory smirk on his face. Before he can even get close to you, however, you’re back on the move, setting a trap for him that he doesn’t even seem to notice.

It’s only when a group of late workers emerge on what you’re pretty sure is the twenty-first floor that you become more anxious about this fight. You don’t like when civilians are involved.

There’s about a dozen of them crowding the balcony, looking up to where you’re facing off with octopus-man above, some having begun to descend the stairs to the next floor before catching on to your presence. You try not to draw attention to them, but their pointing and whispering sets the Spidey-sense off, ringing loudly between your ears, almost deafening in its intensity. Maybe you underestimated this guy. The flash of a camera sends the last hope of him not noticing down the drain, and he grins at you as he switches targets, climbing down towards them with some semblance of caution.

You’re much faster than he is, dropping down and using a web to catch yourself rather than having to climb. It’s hard to stop yourself from yelling at them, cursing them out for being so damn foolish — who in their right mind would stick around a very dangerous fight to take pictures?

Instead, you choose to yell, “Get out! Go, go, go.” And usher them down the stairs, but it’s not difficult to realise that this guy is going to get to them before they manage to descend to the bottom. You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Nothing is ever as simple as it could be, not for you.

The split second decision to drop down and form a net-like web low enough to catch the workers worked out for you in the end, as you swung back up and pushed the workers off of the balcony and stairway just as the octopus man was reaching them. He cursed at you, refocusing his efforts on you as you vaguely noted the workers clambering down after their screaming had stopped. Honestly — did people really have so little faith in you? Had you ever sent anybody to their death before?

“You are just as pesky of an insect as Spider-man!” He growled out, teeth gritted, and came after you with renewed force. He kind of reminded you of that doctor you faced not long after getting your powers, but this guy looked completely different. The doctor you faced — aptly named Doc Ock — had turned himself into some form of a mutant, he had reinforced tentacles which sprouted from his back. Was this guy some kind of copy cat? Maybe he was just delusional.

“I don’t know who Spider-man is, man!” You shout to him as you ascend the building again, trying to figure out the best way to take this guy down. His tentacles seem electronic, so surely you could disable whatever machinery resides on his back?

“That’d be me.” A voice came from above you, two floors ahead of your position. Your head snapped towards it, seeing a man in a blue and red suit, framed by a burst of orange behind him. He didn’t linger up there long, instead moving to leap down to the guy who had turned his attention to the new guy. The closer you looked at this new guy, the more similarities you saw to yourself — his webs looked remarkably similar to your own, the pattern that went across his suit matched your own, even the wide white lenses that shielded your eyes on your mask. Who the hell was this guy?

The octopus man grinned widely, shaking greasy hair from his face. “Ah, finally! The real Spider-man. Got yourself a new protégé, I see.” He drawled, dodging this new guy’s hit straight off of the bat. You tried not to get annoyed at being referred to as a protégé, considering as far as you were aware, you were the only Spider-person around. Where was this guy when you were holding a bridge full of civilians together? Where was he when you took down villain after villain, never once failing to get the guy? No — you were the real Spider-man, if anyone.

“I don’t know who you are, man, but I’m handling this just fine.” You call to the guy, swinging down to rejoin the fight, webbing the villain’s metal tentacles to the wall behind him, before dropping down to kick him towards the wall.

“Oh, so you know how to send this guy back to his own dimension?” Spider-man asks you, eyebrows raised beneath his mask, and as if on cue, the guy glitches once more, ripping his arms away from the wall and just about catching himself on a balcony below before he could fall into your net.

You gape at the new guy, glancing back up to where the burst of orange remains opened, and is that a portal? Is this Spider-man from another dimension? Is that why you’ve never heard of him before? God, if your mother was alive, she’d kill to find out about this. Inter-dimensional travel was something she had spent her life researching. If you didn’t remain so bitter toward her even after her death, you might’ve been sad she wasn’t alive to see this.

But you were bitter, and it made the experience all the worse.

Because you’re pretty sure that that bitterness takes the place of grief within you. It’s hard to understand why you crave to feel that pain, that grief, as opposed to the aching resentment that floods you with the thought of her. It’s such a sharp contrast to thinking of your father, your kind father, the man who threw himself into a battle he couldn’t have hoped to survive, just on the off chance he could save somebody. You hope you take after him.

“Wait— you’re from another dimension?” You question anyway, eyes flickering between the battle and the looming portal above. In fact, you’re so distracted by finding out about that tidbit of information that you miss octopus man aim a tentacle for you, and it snatches you around the ankle. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me—!”

The man waves you around like some kind of rag doll, and you try not to be too bitter about being caught off guard. You should probably learn that getting caught up in your little pity party always ends up badly, always distracts you from that renowned Spidey-sense. You formulate a plan in your mind when the drip of blood around your ankle draws your attention back to the battle at hand.

You web the wall opposite and hold on tight, pausing the movements and letting the dizziness that had come over you fade away. The man growls out in annoyance, and gets closer to cut the webs with another tentacle, which is exactly what you planned for. The tension from the webs launches you towards him when you let go, and in his surprise, the metal tentacle releases you. You wrap around him, and start webbing up the machinery embedded in his back as Spider-man distracts most of the tentacles, keeping them from pulling you off.

His tentacles start faltering, clearly not obeying his movements, and you wrap them up where they emerge from his back, continuing along until the movement is so limited that he has to use them all to clutch onto the nearest balcony.

You crawl up the tentacles in the very same spidery manner that you’re known for, and crouch, watching the octopus man struggle as Spider-man observes from the balcony opposite. “You wanna finish this one off, Spider-man?” You ask, unable to hide any bitterness from your tone at his mostly unhelpful actions throughout the battle.

“Hey, not bad!” He praises, and it annoys you. You’re good at what you do — for the most part. You manage without help constantly, and that’s the way you prefer it. “You’d make a good addition to the Spider Society!”

Now, you don’t know what the Spider Society is. But honestly? You don’t care. You don’t need help, and you prefer working alone, and you certainly don’t like feeling patronised.

“Whatever, man. Just send him back to whatever dimension he came from.” You tell the guy, and drop down as you hear sirens outside, landing on your injured ankle and just about stopping yourself from cursing. Through all the adrenaline and fighting, you’d forgotten about the way the metal had ripped into your skin, drawn blood. It’s just be another place you’d have to sew up your suit with itchy, uneven stitching. “Officers,” You greet as they open the doors, guns drawn, radios murmuring. “All taken care of. Civilians okay?”

“Shaken up, but fine.” The leading police officer says, immediately relaxing and holstering his weapon. You wish it reassured you that the police trusted you now, but it didn’t. Nonetheless, the other officers follow suit. “Thank you, Arachnid.”

The name your world has bestowed upon you has yet to grow on you, but you nod your head regardless, and salute them as you make your way out, swinging across the city, trying to put the existence of the multiverse and inter-dimensional travel out of your mind. Surprisingly, it’s pretty easy when you have a busted ankle to fix up.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You’re halfway through stitching up your suit, having already sewn your skin back together with as much skill as you possessed in the matter — which was, not much. But the bleeding has stopped, and your stupidly slow healing will take care of it within a few days. You know that the itchy stitches on your suit will just irritate the injury, and though you wouldn’t lose anything if your identity was revealed, it doesn’t feel right to go out into the city with any part of you on show.

No, you wear the suit for a reason. You keep every part of yourself covered because nobody can know it’s you underneath the suit. Not because you had anything to lose, no, you had already lost everything. It was because then you could never make a mistake, you would have to be absolutely perfect, flawless, to make up for the fact that it was you underneath the layer.

So, you settle with a sewn suit that will itch and make the stitches on your ankle sting.

However, when there’s a burst of orange across the room, you have no choice but to forgo the suit, to simply drop the needle and thread and hover your fingers over your web shooters. You wait, nervously, for some other villain to appear. You’re not sure if Spider-man appearing would be better or worse.

But when a foot steps through the portal, it’s nobody familiar. In fact, it’s a suit you have never seen before, made up of dark blues and bright reds, sharp edges and long claws. It’s… unnerving, and considering the silence coming from the person wearing it, you’re not entirely certain of what they’re here for.

A moment later and another person steps through, a woman, with bright yellow lenses across her eyes that filter her irises into an amber. She steps forward, standing beside the person who had stepped through first, and if she hadn’t showed up, you would’ve been tempted to attack. With that being said, you remain on edge, but there’s something… comforting about her presence. Like her presence softens the man’s jagged edges.

She says your name, and then adds, “Arachnid.”

You furrow your brows and curse as you glance back at the suit so crudely laid out on the floor. Still, it doesn’t explain how she knows your name. Was it an inter-dimensional thing?

“Spider-man told us about your work in capturing Doc Ock earlier.” She tells you, as if that explains their presence. You did what you were supposed to do, which was take out the bad guys. “We’re here to offer you a place in the Spider Society.”

You can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of good cop, bad cop thing. She presents an offer which doesn’t sound too bad, and then her sharp-edged companion presents all the drawbacks and the catches. They don’t seem like the type to take no for an answer, either way. You still don’t even know what this Spider Society was! Was it some kind of multi-dimensional cult?

“I already told Spider-man that I wasn’t interested in joining whatever cult you’ve got going on.” You practically hiss, though you didn’t exactly tell him in such blatant words. You were more dismissive earlier, so you’d have to be clear now.

“It’s not a cult,” The man speaks, voice harsh and sharp much like the blades that branch from his forearms. “We work to protect the multiverse from anomalies that threaten to destroy it.”

The woman glances at him in a way that you translate as being vaguely annoyed, like he wasn’t approaching you in the way she had wanted him to. “He means to say that it’s a big job, and we need all the help we can get.” She says, softer, but only in comparison to the man’s harshness. “Listen, kid, you’re good at what you do. We need that kind of talent.”

“You’ll have to find it somewhere else.” You say firmly, because why would you want to leave your universe? This was a lot to think about when you had only learned of the multiverse existing mere hours ago. Regardless, you weren’t about to abandon your city just to go across the multiverse to help other heroes who couldn’t keep a leash on their own villains.

The two of them shared a look, a mere glance, before the woman heaved a sigh. “Look,” She sighed, heavily, like whatever she was about to say was something she didn’t want to be voicing. “Before you make your choice, you should know, your Green Goblin is currently terrorising another universe.”

You couldn’t work out if this was some kind of recruitment tactic, or something. That just wasn’t possible. You had put Gwen Stacy in the highest security prison after all antidotes to her goblin-tech failed. She was stuck in there — permanently. There was no way she had gotten out, let alone gotten out to another universe.

…Right?

It’s hard not to think of the memories at the mention of her—Green Goblin, not Gwen Stacy. Never Gwen Stacy. You wonder if this is where your fear comes from, the terrifying fact that you are remembered only for your mistakes. Because before she was the Green Goblin, she was Gwen. She was everything to you. She was the sun you orbited, the stars that charted your path. And it hurts, it hurts that you can only remember the blood and the dust and the destruction when you think of her.

People aren’t born as monsters, are they?

Like the spider that bit you, that invertebrate that so many fear, it was born the way it was. It was born with those fang-lined maws, with those eight legs and dozens of eyes. It was made into the monster it became, artificially crafted to deliver a venom that changed you forever. But it wasn’t born that way.

Surely, Gwen wasn’t either. She was kind. You remember that about her. You can remember her soft hands that used to hold your own, the loud laughter that always ended in a snort when she laughed at her own jokes, the gentle eyes that stared into your very soul. But those eyes are the very same ones that let her see through your mask, let her see exactly where to hit you to make it hurt. Was that what she was born as? Or is that what she was made into? A killer. A monster.

“Show me.” You say, because what else could you possibly respond? If what they’re saying is true, if the Green Goblin is loose once more, then people will die.

You can’t let her get fresh blood on her hands. Not when somewhere, deep inside your chest, so far down it’s almost unreachable, you have hope for her. You have an innate desire to look for the best in her, even when the Gwen you knew was the first life that the Green Goblin took.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

If there’s one thing you’ve taken from being Arachnid, it’s to expect the unexpected. And you go through the orange portal after Jessica Drew and Miguel O’Hara with that exact mindset about you, staring at where an orange watch-like device is wrapped around your wrist.

It’s in your nature to be suspicious, and these people weren’t an exception to that.

In fact, their presence only heightened that behaviour. After all, what were you to expect from two Spider people, who supposedly came to you for your help?

You weren’t blind, you saw the aged lines of their faces the moment you got close enough to see them clearly, away from the dim lighting of the building. They were adults, adults who had clearly been doing this type of thing a lot longer than you had. You, who was barely bordering on adult, who had fought enough battles already to last a lifetime — so why would they need you?

It didn’t feel right.

And when this Miguel person summoned Lyla the moment you walked through the portal, it felt all the more wrong. She was a hologram of some kind, much higher tech than the kind of thing you saw on your earth. But then again, you had never really been in high tech labs back in your earth. Still, it unsettled you. “Lyla, get me the location of Green Goblin, Earth 5011.” He commanded, and they argued in hushed voices for a moment, before a wider hologram appeared, stamped at Earth 3899.

“How did she get to another universe?” You ask, then, because it doesn’t make sense, and you’re shaking underneath the thin material of your suit. You’re hyper aware of each drag of stitching against the wound on your leg, each patch of fabric you had sewn on in hopes of the suit lasting you just a little longer, because you didn’t have the resource to produce a new one.

“It’s an anomaly.” Jessica Drew tells you, her tone softer than you’d heard it, as if she was attempting to reassure you in some way.

It didn’t help. But how could it? The last time you had faced Gwen Stacy—Green Goblin— you had lost so much. It had been the beginning of the end of everything good in your life. The explosion she had caused at your mother’s laboratory was the very same one that killed her, the very same explosion that sent you and your dad miles apart all while living in the same home. And still, you found a way to hope that there was something to salvage within Gwen.

But not only had you lost your mother, and not long after — your father, you had also lost your closest friend. The one person you had confided in, who knew you from your surface to the deepest level, and she had used that against you the moment the Goblin had taken over.

It had taken everything in you to beat her, back then.

And that was on home turf! How did these people expect you to do that a second time, in a completely unfamiliar place?

“Specifics aren’t important right now. Jessica, you take Arachnid. Lyla, send another one of the teams.” Miguel instructed, dismissing your questions right off the bat. It was frustrating. They were leaving you completely in the dark, and sending you to fight the worst enemy you had ever faced, and they were sending you alongside others like you from different universes. It was like asking you to bare your soul in front of them, to reveal your secrets, your deepest regrets, everything that you wanted to stay buried.

You knew Green Goblin. You knew that’s exactly what she would do. She would undermine you, she would lay your life out in front of you like tiles on a scrabble board. In the end, none of it amounted to much.

Jessica Drew made her way out, glancing at you and nodding for you to follow along. Your moment of hesitation had drawn Miguel’s attention, and he called out to you after a moment of hesitation. “We’ve all faced one like it, kid. It’s easier with others.” He told you, though he held a pained expression on his face all the while. Instead of admitting to the way he had hit the nail right on the head, you simply nodded and followed after Spider-woman.

It was a whirlwind from there.

Meeting up with others. Travelling the length of the so-called Lobby to wherever it was that Jessica was taking you. When you finally arrived, she offered an empty glass box with a mannequin inside, bare. She gestured towards it like it should’ve been self explanatory, but soon realised she’d have to spell it out for you.

You shouldn’t have been so upset by the offer of a new suit.

But you were.

This suit was your life. You had nothing outside of it, not anymore. You couldn’t just throw it away, as if it meant nothing, as if every rip and patch and wonky stitch didn’t mean anything. These were proof that what you were doing was real, that it was worth something. Each stitch proved you had value. You weren’t about to throw all of that away, especially for whatever overly technical suit these people would provide.

You had everything you needed.

And so Jessica led you to the next destination: Earth 3899.

The moment you stepped through the portal, it was like you were hit with a wave of familiarity. And not in a positive, slightly nostalgic way, no— this was chaos. This was the state your world had been in when Green Goblin ran riot, unchecked. She had torn apart buildings, blown up parks, she had set New York City aflame. And she was doing exactly the same here.

It was more contained here than it had been on your earth, and you had to assume that was thanks to the Spider-man already on site, coordinating police, ambulance and fire responses to douse the fires as quickly as she set them. If only the police in your city had trusted you so much, back then.

“Where is she?” You ask, the moment you get close enough to speak to the resident Spider-man of the universe. He looks at you as if you’re familiar, but doesn’t comment, instead just pointing a finger toward a skyscraper just a short way ahead. You’re gone the moment he tells you where to go.

She had the uncanny ability to stay quiet. It had freaked you own back on your own earth, but it was even more terrifying here, where things were ever so slightly different.

“Arachnid.” Gwen’s voice called, and for a moment, you could forget. You could forget every horrible thing the Goblin had done, and you could remember your friend, your Gwen, who had called out to Arachnid more than once without knowing it was you behind the mask. Whether it was for a story or to provide information on your most recent opponent, the voice calling your alias was familiar. But then there was that crackle of laughter, an unnatural gurgle in the way it left her throat, and you turned to see the green-tinged pallor of her skin. “I was so hoping you’d show up.”

You didn’t know how much her appearance would effect you, until you were stuck to the side of the building, staring at what had once been your best friend. You’re so choked up that you can’t even formulate a response, because you want that to be Gwen so badly, but you know it isn’t. The more you look at her, the more Goblin you see, the more you know that the Gwen you love is never coming back.

“Nothing to say?” She asks, and then says your real name, the name she used to say down the crackle of a phone line, or across the school hallway, and she smiles. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“You should’ve stayed in prison, Gwen.” You say, your voice unsteady as you say her name aloud for the first time in what must be forever. She seems to relish in the tremble of your voice, and you have to curse yourself for being so stupid, for already showing the vulnerability she was so easily able to pick out.

The Green Goblin tutted at you, stood atop her glider, but the smile you saw didn’t belong to Gwen. “You’re pathetically predictable, you know. You’re like a moth to the flame.” She tells you, and you fear that she’s right, that you’re the same person you were back when you fought her, back when she almost won. She sighs, like something heavy is weighing upon her, but it turns wistful in the blink of an eye. “I’m just glad your dad isn’t here to see this. He’d be so disappointed.”

“Arachnid, focus.” Jessica’s voice interrupts, before you can spiral down that rabbit hole. How did Gwen even know about your father? She was in prison long before he died. It didn’t make sense.

“Maybe,” You say, that familiar tremble around your words. “He did always hope for the best for you.”

She bares her teeth at your words, the only visible reaction before her mask is slipping over the bottom of her face, stretching out up to pointed ears, all metallic and tinted a murky green. Then, she’s attacking.

It’s muscle memory, mostly, you think.

If you don’t think too hard about it, it could be like playing a game with a longtime friend from your childhood. You know the moves to make, you know how she’ll respond. It’s a constant push and pull, a balance which leaves only destruction behind, the path of the Green Goblin’s wrath tangible in each battle scene the two of you leave behind. You can’t beat her like this.

It’s her glitching that gives you a slight upper hand — and you send her careening off of her glider to the ground below.

Your heart squeezes suddenly in your chest as you watch her fall, her eyes wide in what could almost be perceived as fear. If you didn’t intervene, would she die? Would you have put an end to her story, once and for all, when you secretly hope there’s a cure out there for her? You can’t bear the thought of finding out, of watching her die, and so you foolishly dive after her.

A web to her midsection allows you to grip her before she hits the ground, and you set her down with a far more gentle hand than you would ever admit.

She says your name, then, a whispered version of it that sounds like Gwen. You think you can see her in those wide blue eyes, in that stare, and you approach with some caution. “Gwen,” You say, more of a question, “You with me?”

“I’m with you,” She answers, as you reach her side, as you resist the urge to pull off your mask. You’re so preoccupied staring at her expression that you don’t see the blade until it’s too late, your Spidey-sense failing you as you wallowed in your search for someone who was gone. “You sweet, predictable bug.” She spits then, twisting the blade she had sunk deep into your side, and you writhe, trying to move away from her.

“Arachnid!” Jessica Drew calls out, drawing the Green Goblin’s attention, allowing you to pull away from her slackened grasp. You leave the blade where it is, knowing your only slightly enhanced healing wouldn’t make up for the onslaught of blood that would pour from the wound. “I think that’s enough, Green Goblin.” Jessica says, riding a motorbike that you swore she didn’t have earlier. Nonetheless, she uses it to put even more space between you and your villain.

“You need a hand, kid?” A new voice asks, and a gloved hand reaches out for you where you had knelt against the tarmac. You look up, seeing a new Spider-man, but this one has his mask up, showing off his aged face and the bags underneath his eyes. You wave him off, staggering up to your feet, and clench your jaw as you stare at Green Goblin, watch as she pulls bombs from her waistband, barely the size of a chocolate bar, but capable of causing irreparable damage. “Get back to HQ, Arachnid, we can handle this.” Spider-man tells you, in what you suspect to be a fatherly voice, but you ignore him.

Time flies, slips out of your grasp, and you don’t know how long you and the others spend fighting Green Goblin, but she proves to be just as difficult of a foe for them to face as she was for you. Each time the three of you manage to get the drop on her, she slips away before she could be caught. It’s frustrating, and you can even see the way irritation thickens in the air, tangible.

Spider-man, or Peter, as Jessica had called him, is with you, focusing on trying to take Green Goblin down, whilst Jessica Drew is focused on damage control, blowing up Gwen’s bombs before they could hit their intended targets. You’re pretty sure the resident Spider-man is around here, too, pulling any lingering citizens out of harms way before Green Goblin could end them. You’d admit, it works better than you had done alone back on your own earth.

But it doesn’t work well enough, and more than one building is damaged almost beyond repair, and in the dust and rubble, Peter was distracted by the few citizens poking their heads out of the gaping hole in the side of their apartments. He didn’t see Green Goblin coming until it was too late, until she had thrown two of her bombs, one towards him, and one towards the already wrecked building.

Your throat dries up as you try to figure out what to do, who to go for, but in the end, you don’t have to choose.

Beams of glowing orange webs shoot into the bombs where they arc towards their victims, blowing them up and leaving both Peter and the civilians in the apartments without a scratch on any of them. Well, nothing that wasn’t already there before. You see him then, running alongside Jessica Drew, none other than Miguel O’Hara — who clearly didn’t think that the three of you were capable of handling Green Goblin.

“We’ve gotta end this.” Peter tells the three of you, glaring over at Green Goblin after coming so close to one of her bombs.

“You distract, I’ll go in.” You say, the only plan that makes sense. The only plan that’ll work. You wouldn’t be much use as a distraction, not with the blood still pooling around the blade hanging from your side, but you could beat her. You knew you could.

Peter nodded, and he, Jessica and Miguel went in one after another, landing hits on Green Goblin before she could even think to withdraw another bomb, or land a hit of her own, whilst you made your way behind her, swinging as high as you dared to go in your state. She was getting angry, you could tell, a distinct flush rushing up the back of her neck, a tell that Green Goblin shared with Gwen.

It was only when she was starting to turn the tide that you jumped down from your spot against the side of a building, looking for your opening.

She sent Jessica Drew tumbling off of her motorbike, which was your chance.

Green Goblin heard you only a moment before you were on her, not giving her a chance to make a countermove. Instead, you were curling your arms around her, as tight as you could, holding her hands away from her waistband. You gripped the blade in your side and yanked it out, holding it to her chest, breathing heavily through the pain as you bared your teeth at her, her face beside your own.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You say, and try not to hear the pleading in your own voice, the distinctive tone of a beg. You may have the upper hand on her, but as always, she had the power. “Don’t.” You repeat, because you can feel it in your bones that you would do it. If it was the choice between her or the hundreds that she would kill on this world, it would be those hundreds. There was no doubt about it, no questions to be asked.

You may have resented your mother, but she wasn��t the only one who died because of the Green Goblin. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

Perhaps she heard the plea in your voice, the giveaway that you weren’t bluffing, because she went still in your arms, still enough for the other Spiders to approach with some caution, eyes on her hands where you held them away from any weapons, using your forearm connected to the hand holding the blade to her chest to keep her left hand from grasping anything.

“I won’t be asking again.” You tell her, which is as much of a threat as you can muster. Or, more so, a promise.

As Miguel pushed you back with a firm hand, throwing a machine at Gwen’s feet, you think she understands. If the two of you are ever in that position again, there will be no hesitation about it. You will kill her.

“Good work, kid.” Peter says as Miguel and Jessica get to work with getting your Green Goblin through a portal to the HQ. He glanced down at where your hand is now pressing into your side, blood pouring steadily. In your other hand, you still hold the blade that had pierced your own skin, that would have killed Gwen Stacy had she not surrendered. He winces as if it’s him who got hurt, and guides you through the portal after the others. “C’mon, we’ll get you checked out. You not got enhanced healing?” He asks, though you suspect he doesn’t expect you to answer, and you’re glad.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“I can do this myself, you know.” You sigh, wincing as a Spider-man — who apparently is also a doctor and works in the Spider Society’s infirmary — stitches up the wound on your midsection. It’s uncomfortable, though less painful that when you do it yourself. Still, it’s uncomfortable to accept help from these strangers.

“Ooh, shouldn’t say that to him.” Peter B. Parker laughs, one of the many Peter Parkers of the Society, but the same one who had fought Green Goblin with you. “He’ll lecture you on proper healthcare for days if you give him the opportunity!”

The Spider-doctor glares at Peter, or you assume he does, from the slight squint of the lenses of his mask. He kisses his teeth under the mask, tutting, muttering about “Spiders and their complete disregard for their health. Lucky you haven’t died ten times over from infections.” But he doesn’t say anything that requires a response from you, and he soon finished up the stitches. He goes to offer to fix up the injury on your ankle, but you’re up on your feet before he can even get the words out.

“Now, I gotta get back home to the wife, but Miguel wants to see you. He’ll take you home,” Peter tells you as he walks out of the infirmary by your side, but he stops you in the hallway with a hand on your shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “If that’s what you want.”

Your eyebrows furrowed before you could stop them, and the confusion over his words must’ve been written all over your face.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” You ask, defensively.

Peter opens his mouth, but nothing escapes. Instead, it’s his expression that tells you everything he’s thinking. The crease between his brows screams pitying, or sympathetic. He’s talking about the way you live back on your earth, about the life you lead, Arachnid by day, and by night. With no room for you, no room for your secret identity. He’s thinking of the way you’ll be returning to a world with nobody awaiting you, with not a soul to look out for you, to stitch you up after a battle. Nobody but yourself, anyway.

You pull away from him, brows furrowing further, into an almost angered expression, and you don’t watch the way his hand falls away from your shoulder back to his side. He sighs when you turn away, scoffing as you make your way through the hallways of the Lobby towards where you think Miguel will be.

It’s overwhelming, all of these people. They all believe that they know you, that they know your circumstances, your story, but the truth is that they don’t. Nobody does, and that’s the way you prefer it. You don’t need a Society of Spiders surrounding you, breathing down your neck, telling you they’re sorry, or not trusting you to handle yourself in your own fights, because you can handle yourself. You’ve spent the last year of your life trying to prove that, trying to prove that you can do good things, that you’re worthy of the title Arachnid. You certainly shouldn’t need to prove that to a whole Society of people like you, most of which had been doing the job a lot longer.

You’re capable and you’re content.

You don’t need a life as your secret identity to be content, in fact, it’s better without one. You don’t have to tell so many lies, don’t have to worry about hurting the people you love, because there are none of them left. There’s nobody to hurt, and there’s nobody to lie to. Why would you want to change that?

The hallway ahead looks familiar, and you follow it until you enter a room where Miguel stands, looking at orange tinted screens on a platform halfway up the room. You enter with the absolute certainty that you want to return to your own earth, and you’re not going to let anybody stop you.

“I’m ready.” You tell him, expectantly.

He scoffs, saying nothing, still staring at the screens in front of him. For whatever reason, the reaction makes you angry — inexplicably so. You’re slinging up to the platform before you can have a second thought about it, and you’re pushing his shoulder so he’ll face you, so he’ll acknowledge you.

He stares at you, unimpressed.

“Send me back to my earth.” You press, brows furrowed beneath your mask, but you’re sure he can see the anger in the way your shoulders tense up.

“Sure,” Miguel said blankly, staring at you as if you’d suddenly change your mind or something. “But you know, there’s a lot more like her.” He added on when you said nothing, waiting for him to send you back to your world so you could give him back the stupid watch still wrapped around your wrist.

You stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “There are no more like her.” You respond, feeling that hot press on your chest. You don’t want to talk about Gwen Stacy anymore than you’re sure he’d like to talk about whatever he had gone through in his life. Hell, you don’t even want to think about her, but you know that nobody else you would ever have to face would hurt you in the way that she did. In the way that having to see her as an enemy, rather than your friend, had hurt. So, yeah, there was nobody like her, not for you.

Miguel seems ready to let you go for a moment, but then he’s shaking his head at you. “You have a place here. You can be with people like you. You don’t have to do this alone, anymore.” He says, and you think that is ironic, because you don’t see anybody else in here. To you, it seems like he is doing exactly that; doing the job alone. You can practically see the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I prefer being alone.” You tell him, and it has to be true. It has to be.

His jaw sets, acceptance, you think, and he nods. He glances past you, to where a portal was open on the floor below. Considering that you hadn’t seen him set up the portal, you’d wager that his AI Lyla must’ve listened in and done it for him. You pull the watch off of your wrist, relishing in the way your very atoms seem to sag with the weight of being in another dimension.

“Thanks.” You say, and drop down, landing on your sore ankle but not murmuring a word about the pain. You walk back to your world with your head held high, despite your tattered suit and multitude of wounds that would take days to stop hurting.

Miguel stares after you as the portal closes, eyebrows furrowed. He barely acknowledges Jessica Drew’s arrival in the room, already having known she had been lingering in the hallway, listening in. “Well, that went well.” She comments, glancing between where the portal had been and where Miguel stands, brooding. She knows how much pressure he puts on himself, and she knows that he cares about each and every Spider-person in the multiverse. It doesn’t take a Spider-sense to see the way in which you struggle. It’s a familiar struggle, sure, but there were so many Spiders across the multiverse who had a shoulder to lean on in their hardest times. Who did you have? There was no Aunt May for Arachnid, or Gwen Stacy, or Harry Osborne, or, well, anybody.

Jessica thinks that if anybody were to know exactly how that felt, it would be Miguel.

[sturncrazy]

High School Reunion🔥

Chris Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

warnings: SMUT!! nsfw 18+ (risky location, almost caught, unprotected, language)

authors note: time jump for this one (it takes place 2 years from now but roll w me here ok 🤝) also this one ended up a lil sweeter than i thought it would but hey it’s kinda cutesy

summary: you attend your 5 year high school reunion and end up having an unexpected run in with your old crush Chris Sturniolo 👀

word count: 2,618 w

—————————————————————————

You fussed with your name tag. it felt so stupid, it had only been 5 years since you’d all been classmates. could everyone have forgotten each other that quickly? the thought made you nauseous, because deep down you knew you’d be one of the people forgotten the fastest. you were quiet in high school and never partied. not to mention the fact that puberty decided to wait until college, at least that’s when boys decided to notice you. you adjusted your dress, took a breath, and mustered up the courage to walk into the decked out gymnasium.

The next few hours consisted of semi-awkward life updates, but it was painless. the music was loud and people had enough drinks that everyone was in a friendly festive mood. the main focus of attention was on Sturniolo triplets, who’d actually bothered to show up. Their rise to fame was the schools main bragging point and people were all whispers. but it made the night easy for someone like you. you decided to grab drink and headed for the makeshift bar area, when you slammed into someone.

“Oh i’m sorry” you said before looking up

“No you’re all good m’bad—“ your eyes locked with a pair of massive blue ones.

“hey” said Chris Sturniolo, smiling down at you. Chris was the only one of the triplets you’d ever had a class with. You took biology together and were lab partners once, although you did all the work. At the time you’d had a major crush on him, but so did every other girl in your school. even years later though, your heart still leaped into your throat at the sight of him.

“hi” you said back weakly. his smile grew slightly.

“it’s good to see you it—“

“CHRISTOPHER OWEN STURNIOLO! MY BOY” a voice shouted over you, cutting you off. a big beefy hand grasped Chris’s shoulder, undoubtedly one of his old lacrosse buddies, pulling his attention away from you. you instinctively hurried away.

the evening began to get boring, so you decided to explore your old haunts. you were about 5 minutes into your journey when you heard footsteps jogging behind you.

“hey wait up, y/n” you turned over your shoulder to see Chris coming up to meet you.

“you remember my name?” you blurted in shock

“course i do, y/n don’t be silly.” he said casually. “whatcha up to?”

“oh nothing really, just reliving”

“sounds fun” you continued to stroll on and he followed

“so why’d you leave the group?”

“guess i’d had enough of ‘em…and i wanted to actually say hi to you”

“oh yeah? how’d you know where to find me?” you tried to fight off a smile

“your old locker was over there” he said motioning “figured you might visit it”

“you remember where my locker was?” you said in disbelief

“good memory i guess” your heart jumped. had he noticed you back then too?

“plus nicks was a few over” he continued, immediately squashing the feeling. the two of you strode side by side in a comfortable silence down the empty halls before chris came to a halt. you paused to see what stopped him and he grinned at you pointing.

“‘member that room?” he asked , gesturing towards the old biology classroom

“yeah” you chuckled out “didn’t think you did though.” he threw a hand over his heart and dropped his jaw in fake insult

“hey, we spent quality time playing with frog guts in there”

“what a gross way to put it” you wrinkled your nose at him

“c’mon, betcha it’s unlocked” he said mischievously, reaching for the handle. sure enough the door swung open and chris crept into the dark classroom, holding it open for you. You were hit with the smell of pencil shavings and old memories as you heard the door click shut behind you.

“like we never left, huh?” chris said softly

“Can’t say I wish we hadn’t”

“you don’t ever miss it?”

“what, biology? no not exactly…why? do YOU?” you raised your eyebrows dramatically. he laughed

“well no not biology. No i dunno just life was simple then, you know?”

“yeah maybe for you” your words came out bitchier than you meant and chris looked almost hurt.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh no nothing sorry I just— no high school just wasn’t easy for me like it was for you, you know? i wasn’t popular or anything. i mean i’m shocked you even remember me”

“you think so little of me?” he said faking hurt again, what a little drama queen. you laughed in spite of yourself, shaking your head.

“hey, believe me i’m honored to have made an impression on THE chris sturniolo.” you looked down at your feet muttering more to yourself “16 year old me would’ve been psyched”

chris smiled at you sweetly, taking you in with those big blue eyes.

“you made more than an impression on me” he said, sincerely. you stared at him, puzzled which must’ve been obvious because he snorted and continued

“oh cmon, y/n that’s real sweet of you, but it’s okay i know i wasn’t exactly subtle about my crush” your jaw dropped slightly. HIS crush? what was he talking about?

“really? you REALLY had no idea?” you shook your head violently. his faces flushed ever so slightly, the first time you’d seen him not look completely confident.

“oh well then that’s embarrassing that i just admitted that” he laughed, awkwardly. you were frozen in place trying to process. “well, i did”

“why didn’t you say anything”

“scared i wouldn’t stand a chance?”

“with ME? are you kidding?”

“okay i’m sensing a pattern here, y/n. are you unaware of how incredibly hot you are?”

“i sure wasn’t back then” you snickered, hoisting yourself up onto a table.

“i thought so” you paused again staring at his ernest expression

“god i would’ve killed to know that back then i mean i was obsessed with you”

“wait a minute you were?” you nodded vigorously. he crossed the room and leaned next to you against the table you were perched on.

“well no shit” you stayed in silence for a moment before an uncontrollable giggle began to bubbled out of you.

“what?”

“you said i was hot” you snorted at the floor. you felt his eyes on you.

“i said you are hot” you stomach jolted. you turned to look at him. he was so close you could see the delicate freckles across the bridge of his nose. the tension was thick enough to choke on.

“chris sturniolo did you bring me into the biology lab to try to seduce me” you teased.

“why? is it working?” he leaned in closer to you. your noses bumped playfully, enjoying the slight torture of fighting off locking lips.

“mmm maybe”

“maybeee” chris mocked. you took an inhale to calm yourself before closing the rest of the space between you and pressing your lips against his. he froze, apparently caught off guard momentarily, before eagerly kissing you back. your mouths molded perfectly, finding a rhythm together. the kiss rapidly became hot and passionate, as your lips fought for dominance. Chris brought his hands to your waist, grasping you tightly. you parted your legs for him to come closer and wrapped a hand through his hair. he groaned into your mouth as you pulled at his locks, making you suddenly aware of a growing heat between your legs. he ran his hands up your thighs and pushed your dress around your waist making you sigh. he glanced down at your exposed lacey thong and smirked

“do you always wear stuff this sexy?”

“oh shut up chris” you said, slapping his chest playfully. he pressed his forehead to yours

“make me” he rasped out, lighting your lips with hot air. you wrapped one hand around his tie and yanked him back to you, harshly. he stumbled slightly, letting out a rocky breath into your mouth. you hooked your legs behind him, locking him into you. he took your motion as a signal to press himself fully against you. you dragged your hands down his torso, eliciting another groan as his grip traveled to your ass, squeezing at your flesh tightly. you whined and felt him smile against your lips in satisfaction at the sound you made for him.

“god you’re so fucking sexy” he growled out, sending tingles down your skin. your body reacted before your brain did, wanting more. you raised your hips and pushed up against his. he pulled away and smirked at you, raising his eyebrows

“easy there, tiger. this is school property”

“so?” you taunted. Chris’s pupils dilated. he licked his lips and dove back into you, hungrily. he dug his hands into your thighs and yanked you against him as close as he could, your torsos and groins completely flush. a moan tumbled out of your lips and you reached for the buttons of his shirt. he grabbed your wrists, stopping you.

“uh-uh, sweetheart. if we’re gonna do this we have to be careful” he chuckled

“mmm but chrisss i want you” you whined, kissing him again

“oh yeah? how much?” he whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck, sloppily. you enveloped your hand around one of his began to move it down between your bodies. chris pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes tracking your joined hands as you brought his fingertips to your thinly clothed heat. you whimpered at the contact.

“fuck” chris breathed out, his eyes meeting yours, not moving his head. you removed your hand from his and he began to drag his fingers up and down the soaking fabric.

“jesus, you’re so wet” he exhaled, observing you in a trance. you pushed your hips closer to him, trying to intensify his painfully delicate touch. he locked eyes with you again, as he hooked one finger around your thong and pushed it to the side before returning his focus to your now entirely exposed dripping folds.

“shit—stop teasing me, chris” you hissed.

“whatever you say, ma” he grunted as he began to push his index and pointer finger into your throbbing entrance. you moaned loudly, tossing your head back.

“shhhhhh” he sounded, placing his free thumb to your lips and bringing your head up to look at him again. you let out a stifled whine as he began to pump his digits in and out of your core at a mesmerizing pace. you felt your walls tighten as he curved his fingers exactly how you needed them. you gasped, fighting the urge to cry out.

“you look so pretty with my fingers in you like this”

“mmmm—chris” you moaned

“can only imagine how pretty you’d look with my dick inside you, baby” he groaned out. your legs stuttered at his words, begging for him.

“oh—god chris—please” you huffed out

“please what?” he said, continuing to fuck you with his fingers.

“fuck me chris please” you almost begged. his breathing shook at your request and he pulled his fingers back out of you, glancing over his shoulder towards the classroom door.

“think you can be a good girl for me and be quiet if i do?” you nodded your head vigorously

“promise?” he said, reaching to undo his belt. you felt your mouth grow dry.

“i promise, chris”

he kissed you while unzipping his pants.

“good. can’t promise i won’t make you wanna scream though” he said with a smirk against your lips as he lowered his pants just enough to free his hard length. you glanced down and felt your jaw drop and your mouth salivate at the sight of him. he was huge. fear and desire coursed through you, his pink tip glistening with precum. he pumped himself with his hand for a moment, before pushing your legs further apart and lining himself up with your entrance. he pushed his tip into you slowly, hissing. you began to bite your lip fighting the urge to scream by the time he was only half way into you, the stretch and deepness of him already overwhelming. he sunk the rest of the way inside your core, his head collapsing into your shoulder and neck as he bottomed out, groaning.

“fu—fuck—such a tight little pussy, ma” he stuttered, pulling back out of you.

“hhh—so big—chris-“ you gasped into his ear, clawing at the fabric of his shirt

“mmm yeah? you like my big cock, huh?” he growled

“oh god—yes—faster—“

“think you can handle it?” he taunted, still going slow enough to drive you crazy

“mmmhmmm please” you whined. you buried a scream into his taut shoulder as he slammed all the way into your pussy.

“shit—you feel so fucking good y/n” he rasped out, begging to pound into you relentlessly. the room echoed with the squeaks of the table and your stifled moans combine with chris’s heavy breaths as he rammed his long thick member inside you. every inch of him hitting your walls and g spot in the most perfect way imaginable. chris sucked at your neck harshly, undoubtedly leaving marks, never letting up on his steady thrusts. He brought one hand down from his steadying grip on your hips to your folds and began to draw circles against your clit, sending your pleasure to new highs. the sensation was too much and you let out a pornographically loud moan. Chris slapped a hand over your mouth and halted, still deep inside you. you became aware of a sound from out in the hallway and froze. had someone heard the two of you? Chris looked at you wide eyed and raised a finger to his lips, maintaining the other hands cover over your mouth. footsteps approached and you tensed, preparing to be caught, but the sound continued on down the hall. you exhaled against chris’s hand in relief and his shoulders relaxed as he gave you a smile.

“gotta keep that pretty mouth shut, baby” he whispered to you, starting his thrusts again

“can’t have anyone else knowing how perfect you look with my cock stuffed in you” he growled, restarting his rubs against your bundle of nerves. within moments you felt the overwhelming pressure in your stomach forming.

“fuck chris—i’m close—“

“you gonna cum for me, gorgeous?”

“yes-fuck—right there-oh god” your vision began to blur and electricity sparked through your body as you began to unravel

“you look so sexy cumming all over my dick” chris exhaled in encouragement as your walls began to flex uncontrollably around him. the added sensation made his jaw go slack and his eyes roll into the back of his head

“ohhh-oh fuck” he moaned out. his thrusts becoming unsteady and desperate, chasing his release. you moaned lightly, still coming down from your high

“shit—oh fuck, baby- i’m gonna cum hhh”

he slammed into you violently, his brow furrowed.

“OH FUCK” he wailed, pulling out just in time to shoot his hot white load of his release on your thigh. he collapsed his forehead against yours, the two of you desperately trying to regain your breath. he eventually looked up at you and smiled, blushing.

“that was amazing” Chris exhaled, giving you one more kiss before reaching behind to grab a nearby tissue. you took it and cleaned yourself up, then pushed yourself off the table and resituated your dress. Chris inhaled sharply, almost nervously while redoing his belt

“hey how long are you around boston for?”

“oh dunno, bout a week i guess?” you answered, fixing a heel

“well what would you say to dinner?”

“dinner?” you questioned, dumbfounded

“yeah…dinner…like a date?” his voice raised as he scratched the back of his head, scanning your face.

“I’d love that” you smiled

—————————————————————————

GUYS AH IM SUCH A CHRIS GIRL I NEED HIM SO BAD. also why was this giving sorta 2000s rom com vibes (minus the sex obvi)

OK ENJOY!!

kisses💋

[mixedupmojo]

Weird isekai idea that I had that I just wanted to realise into the wild.

Ok so you know how there are multiple stories out there about reader getting transported into the world of journey to the west and then ending up tagging along as the pilgrims make their way west. Here's the thing most of the time these story's take place once the group has already been assembled or the reader ends up meeting Tripitaka first.

So here's the thought what if reader meets Wukong before the group has a chance to get together. Let me explain.

So imagine reader has just arrived in a strange new world and they have absolutely no clue where they are or how they got there and are freaking out really badly. So they start calling out to see if there is anyone nearby that can help them and after a good few minutes of wandering around and shouting for help they suddenly get a reply. Relived they rush towards the voice, only to find that the person that was calling to them wasn't a person but a monkey that looks to be trapped within the rock of a mountain. And it only takes them a second to realise that this isn't just any monkey but thee monkey, the monkey king, Sun Wukong himself and somehow they've been transported into the story of journey to the west. Their internal crisis soon gets interrupted as Wukong starts asking if they wouldn't mind helping him out with his situation. Knowing the story not to mention what Wukong's capable of they immediately disagree much to Wukong's outrage. At Wukongs outburst they go to leave but that’s when they realise that they still have no clue where they are and what's worse no idea who could help them except for maybe Tripitaka so they resolve to wait for him much to Wukong confusion. Realising that it might not be a good idea to tell him that they are not exactly from this world they stick with the hopelessly lost excuse. which Wukong responds with that he would be happy to help them out if they let him out which is an obvious no so things quickly devolve into a stale mate.

Days go by and they end up talking a lot, with Wukong casually trying to convince them to take off the seal every now and then and them always refusing. But as the days go by the more anxious and worried reader gets after all they have no idea at what point in the story they are and it could very well be a hundred year before Tripitaka will eventually show up. Food and shelter are also a worry as they've managed to get by due to it being summer and there is plenty to forage and a small cave nearby that they've been using for shelter but they know it won't last forever. but most of all they really, really want to go home they miss their family their friends they miss their life. More time goes by and day by day reader and Wukong bond even more to the point where the monkey king has actually grow quite fond of them and cares quite a lot to the point that he starts helping them out in what little ways he can. He even stops constantly trying to get them to remove the seal on the mountain only occasionally asking every now and then and its usually only after he see them struggling, instead he's taking the time to ask them about themselves and find out more about them and in return he tell them about himself usually stories of his glory days. eventually they come clean about the fact that they are not from this world and how they have no idea how they got here or how to get home, breaking down a bit as Wukong resolves to help in any way he can. Then one day it happens completely unprompted reader suddenly get up and start walking away at first Wukong doesn't think anything of it as they often leave to look for food and other such things but as the hours go by and they've yet to come back Wukong starts to worry think that something bad might have happened to them before he gets the horrible thought that they might have just finally got sick of waiting and left him. Stewing in his thought the monkey king slowly growing more and more enrage and heartbroken at the potential betrayal. when suddenly he can feel it, he can feel the mountain shift and he realise what they have done. It's after another few hours pass that he hears them running down the mountain catching a quick sight of them as they run past him. it doesn't take him long to realise that they are getting a safe distance away and he waits a few more hours before he finally breaks free. Meanwhile your despriatly trying to catch your breath as you watch the entire mountain explode chunks of rock flying in all directions and your barely able to make out a reddish orange blur coming towards you before your enveloped in a bone crushing hug.

Thus beings their own journey to find a way to get reader home.

I dunno I just really like the idea of Guanyin or Tripitaka turning up and Wukong not being there and all of haven freaking out because the monkey king is on the loose and no one has any idea where he is.

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

No More Chances:

Fate's Prologue Assessment

CUT!

Let's review your scrip again, yes?

• Regression is the act of going back or a return to a past.

• You can guess what types of manwha I've reading.

• That's the AU for this fic that I intended for Y/N to have.

• Regarding about their past, I have mentioned that they have been regressing far too many times, reliving a new and yet still old life.

• Answer to why so many resets is possibly because of the 'butterfly effect' or something where even repeating resets can achange the outcomes because of the new actions you perform.

• Y/N might have done something that was different from 'the script' that led to a bad outcome resulting to another reset.

• The past or Y/N's original life is permanent and can never be change.

• Y/N will always come back as the young abandoned orphan of Bruce Wayne, who was neglected and forgotten in favor of his other children.

• Resets can only happen when Y/N is literally killed, Y/N does not have the power to control it, if Y/N want to reset, you know what you have to do, that's the price you must pay.

• Life is precious and if you want to play with it, it'll cost you your own life and sanity.

• I headcannon that death already know about this but decided not to interfer, it's not like you're an actual immortal or anything, I guess you can say you're already punishing yourself by caging your fate in a loop hole.

• Going back to the backstories, everything is a bit blurry but will be revealed by flashbacks (That's what happens when you keep **** yourself).

• Y/N remembers their mother but not her face or voice, they remember moments with them but only the fleeting ones, their touch, the warm kiss on your forehead and the cold hands that touched your bloodied cheek before it drop to the ground.

• Y/N is born and raise as a Gothamite more so on the poorer parts of Gotham.

• It's a bit ironic that Y/N's backstory is almost the same as Bruce if not for a little difference in narrative, A young mother finally earnings extra money from work and took her kid out for some mother and child bonding as a request for their birthday but the night ended with a robber being a little trigger happy and shot the mother in an alleyway grabbing all her money and possesions while leaving the traumatized child to watch their mother's life leave her body.

• Commissioner Gordon arrived at the scene and couldn't help but reminiscent a little wayne boy also sitting on the cold concrete floor of crime alley crying for his parents death years ago.

• Implied that in the next parts that Y/N will become mature and more far off than the other version of her.

• Y/N might be a kid again but they remembered some of their supposed 'ending' and in return gain more than enough trauma.

• It might be a little bit corny or too much but I want Y/N to be a little petty or hateful to the rest of the family in the upcoming interactions.

• Only acting nice and patient around the rest when you face them, they're detectives I know but how are they gonna find out when your fake acting doesn't really matter from the rest of their problems am I right?.

Lil tiny note : I want this fic have a lil angsty with some comedic stuff would that be alright?

That's all I got for now but if any of you guys want to add more traits for your own Y/N you guys can add it down.

Let's take 5!

I'll prepare for your next lines, ok?

〖 = ✧ = 〗

Do you guys want me to tag you on this stuff as well or just on the main story?

[jadeee]

Push and Pull

Things were going well with Kento which is exactly why you broke up with him, but he won't let you go... he can't.

Warnings: break-up scene, angst, fluff, 18+ scene (MDNI) Word Count: 3.8k Tagging: @imnotsureaboutwhatimdoing @nanami-s-sunshine @daisynik7 it's here! @majestickitty this is how one fumbles Kento.

It'd been a few months since you met him through a friend and things were going well... too well. You noticed how you'd perk up whenever you saw his name pop up on your phone or how you'd think of him whenever you heard a song or watched a show. Most of all, how hopeful you'd get waiting for a call or text. Once you were even bold enough to reach out first, so that's how you ended up where you are now. Turning down his invite to hang out because you didn't "feel good". 

Kento: I can bring you soup. Is it a cold? 

You: No, I don't want you to catch wtv this is :( I'm sure I'll be fine in a few days!

You tossed your phone aside then rolled over hoping that would be the end of it; but, of course it wasn't. Kento was eager to spend time with you once you felt well enough and he let you to pick the venue. The air was crisp as you stepped on the autumn leaves. Wisps of the fresh water from the lake filled your nostrils. When you glanced at him, a sudden heat crept up your neck. The sun shone behind his head as if that were it's only job to make him look like a perfect angel. Your golden haired boy, if only you would have him.

"Are you ok?" his voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm good!" 

Despite your convincing tone, your body language said otherwise. The nervous smile and hidden hands were enough. Kento looked straight ahead and narrowed his eyes as you filled the dead air by pointing out a nearby bird. Your half-hearted smile was another piece of evidence for him to study later. 

That night, you lay in the dark thinking about how you'd do it. Public place. Face-to-face. One sentence. Tomorrow at 7, after he got off work. Your thumbs hovered over his name as you stared at your phone. Your eyes flicked up at his contact picture. The picture you took of him on your third date. The corners of your lips turned downward as you relived the details in your mind's eye. A pit formed in your stomach. After another minute of bring paralyzed by anxiety and her siblings, you lay your phone down and decided to sleep. What you hoped to be a decent night, turned into tossing and turning.

You: Hey, can we meet after you get off work? 

Kento: Sure, just tell me when and where.

You stumbled throughout your day. Forgetting steps to the simplest things, putting your orange juice in the cabinet and your spoon in the trash. Now, as you walked up to the door you repeated the script in your head: I really like you, but I can't do this. I'm sorry. You intentionally showed up early, hoping you could steal a few minutes to give yourself a pep talk but you spotted Kento scanning the menu. 

When his eyes met yours, a nervous smile crept onto your face while your feet unwillingly led you to him. 

"What are you getting?" 

"I think I'll get some chamomile tea and a pastry. You?" 

"I'm actually not hungry." 

He glanced at you, "Oh?" 

"I haven't had much of an appetite." 

"What's wrong?" 

You tried to steady your breathing so you didn't crack under his gaze "I think I just.. I'm thinking too much." 

The barista cut him off before he could offer you any comfort, "Next!"

He placed his order then waited for you. You decided to get a drink so you weren't awkwardly looking at him when he enjoyed his own along with his pastry.

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"No, thank you though." 

He took note of how your eyes bounced from him to the menu then to the floor. His jaw clenched as he sat across from you. He could've called you out but he wanted to let you speak. You'd been thinking it over, obviously, so you had an idea of what you wanted to say. When you both got your orders, you didn't bother waiting another second. You knew how he hated to waste time and secretly hated yourself for even remembering that when he previously complained about a coworker's disregard for it. 

"I really like you..." your hands fiddled with the paper wrapped around your cup as you fought tears. 

A hole formed in his chest. It seemed that all the color and life you managed to bring to his face drained instantly. He was devoid of any and everything.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this." 

A tear fell and you wiped it from your eye then cast your eyes down at the floor. 

"So that's it then?" he bit his tongue in an effort to hold back everything else he wanted to say and ask. 

"I'm sorry," was all you managed to get out before the tears took over. Your cup was still full when you walked out of the cafe and so was his.

The body and mind are complicated things — the body wanted to follow but the mind told him to leave you be. So he did what most fools would do. He waited a minute only to get up and see if you were still outside. If he'd only looked down the alley, he would've seen that you didn't even make it to your car since you were crying behind the building. 

You scrolled through your texts and pictures, torturing yourself: "Delete?", hover, "Cancel". If you could've said anything to make it better it would've been: You deserve better. Yet, you were being a coward so you deleted the message. Kento was doing the same thing at this moment. Except his unsent message read: How can I make this better?, I want you, Please tell me what I can do differently. However, he wasn't known to pine for anyone so he never sent it. Maybe it could be different but you were being stubborn and adamant about pushing him away, which meant, he should give you space ... right? 

Hearing your moans bounce off the walls felt weird. A part of you cringed at how you clutched onto the sheets as the knot in your core tightened — Golden Haired Boy. You suppressed a whimper as you shut your eyes, feeling the nerves at your bud go numb from the force of your vibrator.

"Oh, f-' the toy went silent as you fell from your climax. Your fingers pressed the button once, then twice, and repeatedly when it didn't turn back on. You dropped your head onto your pillow "Fuck."

Sex may have been a priority for you then but food sits at the top of Maslow's pyramid. The low growl of your stomach reminded you of that as you frowned from your unmet satisfaction. You needed food which required grocery shopping, which meant cooking, which you had zero energy for. While standing in the Frozen Meals section, you saw the back of his head in the distance. That familiar pit formed in your stomach as you looked straight ahead at the various bags of pasta in front of you. Without thinking about it any longer, you grabbed the first one within reach then dashed to the registers. You headed for self check out since that was the shortest line and kept an eye out for the next available station. 

As you watched like a hawk, you got a whiff of his scent. You glanced back and judging by the soft blush in his cheeks, he didn't expect to see you here either. 

Heat crawled from your feet to your head as you thought about what to say or do. Automatically, you wanted to smile at the sight of him but you couldn't ... you shouldn't. He was an ex now. 

"Hi." 

His face had a stern softness "Hi." 

In the next few seconds, you each got a glimpse at the other person's basket. You had your frozen pasta, cookies, and batteries ... how odd, he thought. He only had bread and a bottle of wine, since he drunk the last one with you and never went out to get more. 

"Excuse me," a stranger interjected "are you two together?" 

You pinched your brows while Kento tried to keep a straight face. "No!" you said, overlapping Kento's "It's complicated." 

The stranger looked at you both dumbfounded. "I meant ... for self checkout. Are you two together?" 

It felt like your soul dared to leave your body, 

"No." you answered before heading over to the next available station. 

Of course, with your luck, Kento took a station that just so happened to be next to you. After catching a glimpse of you, he opened his mouth then shut it. His hands placed his items into the brown paper bag then grabbed his receipt. He moved slowly as his brain worked overtime in thinking of what to say, "I'll see you around?" 

When your eyes met his, it felt like it should be. Soft, warm, comforting. The pink hue you grew to love and had to part with covered his cheeks. It took everything in you to not smile like a lovesick puppy, so you gave him a nod and a buried smile.

A lump hardened in your throat as he left you for the first time. The sky was gray once you walked to your car. Rain trickled from the sky and you were thankful because no one could see you crying.

Ten minutes. 600 seconds he spent, sipping wine, breaking off bread and his attitude bit by bit as he watched his phone anticipating a text or call from you. He picked up his silent device then set it back down after seeing "No New Notifications". 

A sigh fell from his lips as he unlocked his phone, hazel eyes focusing on your name. The wine started to taste sour in his mouth. If only your lips could be his anecdote. His thumbs danced across the screen while he poured his heart out. After reading the sappy paragraph, he made some edits and came up with: I miss you. It was simple but it was the truth. He hit send then stared at his phone, waiting for a response.

It wasn't like the movies. You weren't crying over a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough ice cream, because the market was all out, but also because you were lying in bed. Of course, you were thinking of him the whole time. How his hands would feel, what he'd be saying to you and his lips on your skin. You buried your face into your pillow and let out a medley of noises. You were so lost in your own needy state, you didn't see the text from Kento. 

It'd been an hour and he still hadn't heard back from you. The half empty bottle of wine stared back at him. He bit his lip as he looked at the message he sent earlier. His thumb tapped away at the screen: Can we at least talk about this like adults?

His stomach grumbled. The bread wasn't enough and he meant to get more but he couldn't force himself to walk down the freezer aisle when he saw you, so he made a beeline for checkout where he ironically bumped into you anyway. He didn't like ordering takeout but he'd rather hide in his home than risk running into you right now. 

You turned onto your back and panted into the stale air of your place, trembling from the fading feeling of your orgasm. Out of habit, you checked your phone even though you were suddenly tired. Your eyes blurred at the sight of Kento's name in your notifications. Surely, you were dreaming.

When you woke from your somewhat peaceful slumber, your eyes landed on the mountain of clothes piling in the corner. It could be considered the accent piece of your hectic home. Wrappers were littered around your room, along with a few plastic bottles and trinkets intentionally misplaced. In an attempt to ignore your responsibilities, you checked your phone. A blank expression stared into your eyes as you tried to power it on again. 

Left without an alternative, you placed it on the charger then climbed out of bed. After a few minutes, your place started to look like a home again and not a hole of heartbreak. It wasn't until you started to hum in the shower that you realized you hadn't spoken all morning. You chuckled at the thought only for your smile to fade when you realized the song you were humming was one Kento recommended. 

You tugged your clothes onto your body as if they were the reason for your sour mood. DING! your phone came back to life. Your heart jumped to your throat when you read: 

I miss you. 

Can we at least talk about this like adults?

Your thumbs moved back and forth before clumsily typing out: Sorry I missed this. I was busy last nigh—  you shook your head as you deleted the text.

He wasn't prone to hangovers but he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a thing now. Kento took some aspirin along with his morning shower. When that didn't do, he drank some tea to ease his headache and heart. 

DING! his ears perked up: I'm sorry about the late response. I went to bed without checking my phone last night and missed this. I want to explain but I can't... you should be with someone better. 

A mixed state of shock and confusion painted his face: I don't want anyone else.

The sounds of his smooth and steady voice filled every inch of you when you read his text. Tears stung the corners of your eyes until you let them flow. 

Intermission is known as a waiting period between act one and act two but you asked yourself, what happens next? Days went by. You were operating from second nature. Constantly fluctuating between autopilot and the bare minimum. You wanted to go out yesterday but every little thing overwhelmed you. Glances and low conversation between strangers made your palms sweat. Today seemed better though so you got dressed and headed to a new bookstore that recently opened up. 

The smell of the pages calmed you as you walked in. Only a few people were there and your shoulders eased as you explored the shop. You were scanning the spines of nonfiction books when you bumped into someone. 

"I'm s-" your face dropped when you turned around. 

The wide hazel eyes softened at the sight of you "I'm sorry. Are you ok?" 

An awkward silence eased its way between the two of you then.

"... are you following me?" 

 "No," Kento's brows pinched "I get what this looks like but I can assure you I'm not. I've been meaning to come here but haven't had the time until today." 

"Plus, it's Sunday so there's less people." 

He nodded in agreement then studied your face before speaking again. 

"Please, don't."

"I don't mean to pry, I just want to understand." 

"Kento, please." 

He had a look of disappointment on his face but that changed when he noticed you tearing up. 

"I can't," you wiped your nose which stated to run "I can't do this and I swear it's not you. You're perfect," your half-hearted chuckle made the corner of his lip turn up. 

"I... you need to be with somebody else." 

"But I want you." 

The longer you looked at him, the tighter your chest felt. As if you were trying to cage all the love and affection you had for him. Your eyes fell to the floor and you made a small noise which caught in your throat. He reached out for you then frowned slightly when you stepped back.

"I didn't mean to—" 

"It's fine," you wiped your face "I should go." you stormed off without allowing him to get another word in. 

Tears filled his eyes as he glanced at the nonfiction books sitting on the shelf. Love's Bite was staring back at him, a black spine with bold white letters. He blinked back tears then moved to towards the back of the shop so he could be alone.

Kento didn't want to be that guy but he didn't know what else to do. He tried reading, cooking, watching tv, talking with friends, doing a puzzle, and he still thought of you. So that's how he ended up in the gym on a Tuesday night lifting weights. If his limbs were burning maybe he'd think about the pain and not your face. Truth be told, your face flashed across his mind when he did push ups. It was a double edged sword. The thought of you under him made him sweat. The soft pants from doing pushups morphed into something primal at the image.

Five days... was that too long, you asked yourself while swaying side to side with a basket in your hands. A carefully curated collection of his favorite things and that which reminded you of him. After a moment of silence, you knocked on the door again. When no one responded, you cursed under your breath. 

Kento slowed to a stop when he made it to his floor. He watched you scratch your head and mutter something to yourself. Though his face was placid, his heart beat ten times faster. The cold metal from his key heated up in his hands, "Yes?"

"Kento, hi." 

Within that brief moment, your eyes scanned him from top to bottom. The jacket hanging over his arms along with the hard crease in the dips of his shirt indicated that it was a rough day. His cheeks burned as he hoped you'd ask him about it. His mind was filled with notebooks full of things he'd been dying to tell you. Questions he wanted to ask in hopes of getting to know you more. Quips he wanted to share just so you could laugh and say "that's so corny".

"I brought you this," you held out the basket "as an apology. I also wanted to talk if you have time." 

"Of course."

When he stepped in front of you to open the door, your eyes glanced at his undercut. You tried to compose yourself when he turned around and gestured for you to go in first.

He noticed how you hesitated to take off your shoes and make yourself comfortable.

"I have some extra slippers if you want those."

"I'm okay, I'm just a little nervous." you placed your shoes next to his.

"Why?" 

"I'm just afraid you'll hate me after I say what I have to say." 

"I could never hate you." 

"You're just saying that." 

"I'm serious," he placed the basket you gifted him onto the table then walked toward the kitchen. 

"I'll be right there. Do you want a drink?" 

"Just water, please." 

You fiddled with your hands until he came back with your cup. The both of you took a seat and sipped from your cups. It didn't occur to you that he was waiting for you to speak until you found yourself just staring at him. 

"Right, I should at least give you an explanation. I really do like you... a lot. Which is why I wanted to break up. I could tell that my feelings for you were real and it scared me because... well," you looked off as if the answer would appear in thin air, like something from a script or teleprompter. "I find it hard to believe that you'd really like me as I am. I feel like I'm not good enough for you and I don't want you to be disappointed later on." 

You blinked away at incoming tears when you heard the truth being spilled from your heart. 

"You're good enough for me." he answered in a simple tone. 

"Kento—" 

"Darling, if this is what you really want, I'll respect it but know that I'll always choose you." 

You tried to steady your breath after hearing his words. It was hard for you to compose yourself long enough to speak. 

"What do you want?" seeing you were still speechless, he walked over to comfort you. "If you really want me to leave, just tell me and I will." 

The eerie silence threatened to loom over you, but you decided to stop thinking for once and simply speak.

"I want you to call me darling again ... and again. I want to hold hands and kiss. I want to walk in the park and dance in the kitchen at 1 a.m.," a smile broke through as you locked eyes with him, "I want to be with you." 

Your mouth twisted as you tried to hold back tears but it didn't work. The caged animal known as your heart finally roamed free. Kento held you close to his chest, his warmth enveloped you like a blanket.

"That's it then. We'll walk in the park and talk until midnight and do whatever else you want to do, my love." he kissed the top of your head. 

"You don't have to change for me by the way. I'd prefer you don't." 

You wiped your face "What?" 

"I like you as you are." 

"... I like you too," you buried your face in his chest "have you been working out?" 

Kento's singed, "Yes." 

You chuckled "Was this part of your plan to get me back?" 

He laughed lightly at the half-truth "Maybe." 

Epilogue:

The air was warm, not only because the heater was on, but because that's what you two had cultivated over the past year: a warm home. Granted, you spent the last few weeks perusing houses available in the area, without much luck, yet you had each other and that was enough.

"You won't believe how cold it is outside!" you shucked off your shoes then wiggled your toes in your socks. "Hey, don't you work tomorrow? If you do, you should wear your coat." 

As you went on with the Mother Hen act, you glanced around the apartment and pouted when you didn't see him.

"Kento, sweetheart?" your hands hooked your jacket onto the coat rack then you sauntered around the space.

You nearly jumped out of your body when he appeared out of the hallway. He took you in his arms and kissed you without saying a word. The smell of amber and citrus wrapped itself around you with each second you spent in his embrace. His thumbs caressed your cheeks. The warmth of his hands brought your cold body back to life.

"Welcome home."

The sound of his voice saying those words made your heart melt. You placed your hands over his then rested your head on his chest. His heart beat steadily as he held you close to him.

Author's Note: I love this pairing. He loves you. You love him. It's simple and as it should be. It took me forever to get this out but I'm glad I waited. I actually, really, really like this... a lot.

[beyourownanchor6]

thanks for the tags loves @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela @spaceprincessem 🩵

—here’s more from therapist eddie, ft. the buckley siblings 🫶🏼

Buck got into the car once Maddie arrived, relived to finally be off his feet and rid of the crutches for the time being.

“So, how was it? Was the third time the charm?”

Buck grumbled out an answer. What was he supposed to say? Oh, sure Mads, he was really cute, I loved the feeling of his hands on me. Oh, and I totally freaked out on him at the end and ditched a half hour early but he was cool with it for some reason. Yea, he would not be telling her any of that, thank you very much.

When Maddie didn’t say anything for too long, Buck looked over to her, a wide smile spreading across her face.

“They were cute, weren’t they?”

Buck rolled his eyes as he turned away from her.

“Shut up.”

Maddie laughed next to him, Buck keeping his smile to himself, tucking his face into his hoodie.

Buck had no idea why, but for the first time in months, he felt like everything was going to be ok. It certainly didn’t have anything to do with his new hot physical therapist. No definitely not.

tagging: @loserdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @monsterrae1 @honestlydarkprincess @buddierights @spotsandsocks @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @daffi-990 @wh0re-behavi0r @wildlife4life @giddyupbuck @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @father-salmon @bigfootsmom

[bullet-prooflove]

Trying!Series Part Four: Two Months - Will Trent x Reader

Tagging: @yezzyyae @words-and-seeds @trublu2u @cassiopeiablog @kmc1989

Trying!Series:

Part One: Notions - Seeing you with a baby opens Will up to a future he never contemplated.

Part Two: Trying - You and Will struggle to give each other what you really want, causing friction in the relationship.

Part Three: Thirty Days - Your plans to start a family with Will are put on hold when he goes undercover as Bill Black.

It’s two more months before Will comes home. That’s how long it takes for him to unravel CK’s real identity and disband her operation. He doesn’t see you throughout that time, it’s too dangerous. He’d learned the morning after you’d slipped out that CK had gotten word he’d taken a working girl to bed. It’s then he realises how closely he was being watched. There’s no phone calls or visits after that.

The night you spent together; it sustains him. He lies in bed reliving it over and over again until it’s etched into his memory.

He's exhausted when he steps over the threshold, both physically and emotionally. This whole case has taken a toll on him, but the last couple of days have been the most harrowing. He’d barely escaped the apartment complex with his life, he’s lucky that he’d made some strong connections in his time undercover, or he might not have made it back at all.

You’re sitting on the couch reading, Betty curled up in your lap when he closes the door behind him. He looks at the two of you and something in his heart just settles because finally he’s back where he’s supposed to be.

He’s still a little quiet, a little withdrawn. It’s hard for him making the adjustment from Bill Black to Will Trent. He’s spent the past two months guarded, closed off.

You undress him in the bathroom, your hands light and gentle as you undo the buttons of his shirt. When he steps underneath the spray, he feels the tension beginning to unfurl from his muscles as your careful hands smooth shower foam over his tired form. His forehead comes to rest against yours, his eyes closing as the water flows over his body.

“I missed you so much.” He whispers. “I didn’t mean to be away for so long.”

“I know.” You tell him, your thumb chasing over the line of his jaw. “It’s ok.”

He doesn’t realise how much he needs to hear that until the words leave your lips. Before he left the two of you were trying for a baby, undergoing fertility testing, discussing options if you couldn’t start a family the traditional way. This case had derailed all of that, you’d been forced to put your life on hold, your dreams.

He stays in the shower for a long time after you leave to cook dinner, letting the water rinse away all traces of Bill Black. There were things he had to do undercover that he isn’t proud of, it takes him a while to erase the feel of Rosa from his skin. It went no further than kissing and a little light petting on her behalf but still it weighs on him. He knows it means nothing, that you’ll give him that look and remind him of the time you’d had to do something similar but still he hates it.

It's when he’s throwing away the empty toothpaste tube that he spots the pregnancy test sticking out of the bin. He picks it up, his eyebrows furrowing as he studies the device intently. He may struggle with reading but by now he knows what that little blue cross means. He’d spent months praying for it before he went undercover.

When he steps into the kitchen your focus is on the pasta dish you’re preparing. He notices you’re using wholemeal instead of the regular stuff, that you’ve added more veggies to the recipe. His arms wrap around you as he buries his face into the curve of your neck, his lips brushing over the hinge of your jaw. His palms come to rest on your abdomen.

“When were you going to tell me, sugar?” He murmurs into your ear.

The left side of your mouth quirks up into a smile as you lean back against his chest.

“Tomorrow.” You tell him, your fingers threading with his. “I thought I’d give you tonight to decompress.”

“Oh darlin. Something like this, I wanna know about it straight away.” He murmurs into your ear as his thumb chases over space where his baby resides. “You’ve made the happiest man alive you know that?”

“I think you had a little something to do with it.” You tease, your palm smoothing over your stomach, and he chuckles into the hollow of your throat because the sense of elation he feels right now, he’s never felt anything like it.

“I can’t believe we made a baby, sugar.” He whispers as he cradles you close. “The two of us we made a baby.”

Love Will? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[carters-things]

Drive

Stiles Stilinski x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Stiles go wherever the Jeep will lead you.

Tags: Just a short fluffy blurb about the love of my life.

Masterlist

"I'm going to fall!" 

"You're fine! I've got you!" Stiles giggled as he helped shuffle you out the door. His hands covering your eyes but managing to almost knock you backwards with each step. 

"You never were graceful" you poked. As he jostled you down the last step, he positioned you in the driveway before running away. You can hear him trip over himself but stifle your laughter to not take away from his excitement. 

"Ok, now look!" His arms are wide open, presenting you with sight of the old, beat up, baby blue jeep he drove in high-school sitting in your yard, still wearing every dent and scratch from all of its adventures. 

"You're kidding! How did you get it back?!" 

"Pays to know the Sheriff." He smirked. The jeep was just as old and rickety as you remember. Broken seats, the door latch that used to stick still won't open, and the front headlight still has the crack from when Stiles bumped that pole at the gas station. He makes his way over to your side of the car and begins tugging on the door to pop it open for you, nearly knocking himself over when it finally lets go. 

"My hero." You kiss his cheek with a small giggle. You can feel the heat from embarrassment in Stiles’ face on your lips. You climb your way up into the jeep and settle down into the rundown interior. The rough fabric scratches the bottom of your thighs, as the sun from the open topped jeep warms the top of them. Stiles cranks the engine to start it, gears grinding and failing to start. After about the third or fourth try, and a few whispered frustrations, the car finally comes to a start. 

"Smooth as butter!" he exclaims as he pats the wheel. 

You spend the next hour or so driving around town, back country roads, highways, and everywhere the jeep could take you. Your hand intertwines with Stiles’, resting on his lap; every so often a small kiss pressed sweetly to the back. Through the day both of you relive your high-school days and stories. Time is lost to you and before long you realize you don't know where you have even brought yourselves. The sun has almost set fully and the air is starting to get a bit cooler; the slight sunburn on your skin keeps you warm. As you turn down a road that Stiles swears will bring you right home you see a sign for a drive-in movie up ahead. 

Before you could even say anything Stiles was turning into the parking lot. The jeep bouncing you both almost out of the roof with each stone on the gravel driveway. You didn't even know what movie was playing but that didn't stop you both from getting tickets and parking in the most prime location. The field was only occupied by five or six other cars, the rest of the space flooding with fireflies. Stiles jumped out of the jeep, forgetting he was still holding your hand and almost pulling you out with him. He opened the back hatch and pulled out two blankets he must have stashed in there earlier today; or at least you sure hope he did and they weren’t the ones from school. You climbed your way through the seats into the bench in the back, Stiles scaling up the wheel and over the roll cage, settling himself right beside you. He draped one blanket around your shoulders and the other over both of your laps before he wiggled hand back into yours.

"Remember when we all came to the drive in after prom?" You rested your chin on his shoulder, looking up at his freckled face. The butterflies swarming your stomach when his gentle brown eyes locked into yours.

"Yeah, and Scott spent the whole movie trying to impress Allison with his Owen Wilson impression." The both of you laughed at the memories of you as young, dumb, lovestruck kids and the nostalgia of being back at the drive in. Being in the back seat of the jeep topping everything off. 

The movie started to play but between the comfort of Stiles' arms wrapped around you mixed with the steadiness of his breathing you didn't make it further than the opening credits. Your soft snores made Stiles chuckle gently, not enough to wake you. He kissed the top of your head and adjusted the blanket to keep you warm; resting his head on the back of the seat he just smiled. Smiled just as big tonight as he did when he held you in that seat back in high-school, and will only smile larger every day he holds you in the future.  

Taglist!

@commander-vas-normandy

@murrdxcks

[bun-z-bakery]

A/n: this took wayyy longer than expected! But we're so back! This ones a bit short but I still hope you enjoy. Thanks to everyone who's been reblogging and liking my stuff 🩵 also if you want to be tagged whenever I post the next chapter let me know!

Silent sun (8)

"Done!"

You exclaim as you finish tying off the string. You scoot back to admire your work.

"Looks good! I'm honestly surprised!"

Poppy praises your stitch work. Even you admit it wasn't all that bad at all. 

You place a hand on DogDays leg closest to you.

"Can you feel my hand, sunshine?"

His ears perk up at the nickname and he sits up. He tries to move his legs to no avail.

"Give it a minute."

Poppy is hopeful. She knows more about these things, so you don't question her. 

He sighs in frustration.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll– WOAH!"

You're caught off guard as DogDay grabs you and sits you sideways on his lap, his legs now crossed as he hugs you.

"Now I can finally protect you properly, Angel!"

"Aw, I'm so glad you– your tail!"

His tail thumps loudly against the floor.

The three of you laugh, and you rise from his lap. 

DogDay attempts to stand, but he wobbles like a newborn puppy exploring the world for the first time. You were much smaller than he was, but you still held his giant hands to help stabilize him.

It took a while for him to get used to the feeling of his legs, but once he became comfortable, it was like he became a whole different person with his new range of movement.

Oh my god, he's massive! 

You mentally freak out at the behemoth mascot towering over you.

"Shall we dance?"

He jokingly offers his hand and you take it.

"Gladly good sir."

You play along and dance to your own rhythm, the sound of your combined laughter fills the room, but that doesn't last long.

Unfortunately for you, he's observant.

"You're bleeding?!"

He grabs your arm and inspects the rip in your jacket. You haven't been able to tend to your wounds, nor did you think it was a big deal, your companions thought otherwise.

"Who did this?! When did this happen?!"

"Please calm down!"

You shout as you cover your arm, the guilt now washing over you.

"I'm sorry... It's just this was supposed to be your moment..."

"Can we see?"

Poppy adds, and hesitantly you remove your jacket, revealing the slightly tattered and dirty shirt that your jacket was protecting.

You hold your jacket in your free hand and show off the blood-covered makeshift bandage. 

"That looks pretty bad Angel..."

"I'll be ok guys, plus it's not my first injury, no need to worry."

"Come here."

DogDay frantically rips a clean part of one of the blankets and pats the open spot next to him.

"You really don't have to..."

"I–we can't have you dying on us! Please"

Dogday pleads, making you sigh in defeat as you hold your arm out. He unwraps the bloody bandage and does his best to tend to your wounds.

"How did this happen?"

He panics as he pulls out a shard of glass that is still in your wound. The thought of it being trapped under your skin makes you shutter.

"It's... A long story..."

If you told him he'd probably panic even more, plus you just didn't want to relive everything this place put you through again. 

"If you need more rest, we could stay!"

Poppy offers, at this point you've made everyone worried. It wasn't your intention, but that seems to be common when it comes to you.

You shake your head in response. 

Once DogDay is done tying your new bandage, you stand and offer to help him up. 

"Alright, let's head out!"

You clap your hands and head towards the door, the others following right behind you.

"It's clear, come on!"

You wave to others, you've never been so happy to see light, even if it's artificial. Before the four of you can go any further, a phone ringing catches your attention. 

"What's that noise?"

DogDay asks as he looks around. 

"Oh, it must be Ollie!"

"Who?"

They haven't met either? How odd. 

"Ollie is a friend of ours!"

Poppy explains while you answer the phone

“Hey, are you alright?! No ouchies or lost body parts?”

Ollie asks from the other side of the phone. You quickly glance at DogDay and continue the conversation. 

"Yep, I'm good! So is everyone else!"

"Everyone else? Who else is with you?"

He asks, confused, which in turn confuses you as well. 

Could he no longer see us?

"Well, I've got DogDay, Poppy, and Kissy with me!"

You exclaim, DogDay makes his way closer to you and places a hand on your shoulder hinting to you to 'hurry up'. 

"Angel who's–"

"Here!"

You shove the phone into his hand, he shakes his head, and you motion for him to speak. Reluctantly, he holds the phone up to speak to Ollie.

"Uh hello?"

"Who's this?"

"... "

"Speak"

You whisper to the giant dog, now frozen in place. 

"DogDay."

DogDay really didn't know what to say, he was too preoccupied with deciphering if this friend might be a threat.

"Hiya DogDay! I've been helping our friends locate their way around Playcare! I hope you're treating them well!"

From where you're standing, Ollie sounds muffled, but Dogday's response helps you piece together the conversation. 

"Well, of course! Angel has been nothing but wonderful. I owe them my life..."

He shifts awkwardly in his stance.

"Uh, who's this "Angel" you're talking about?"

“OH! It's a nickname."

He chuckles awkwardly, you hold his hand and mouth 'You're ok'.

"Oh, I get it now! I’m really glad you’re both okay… I don’t wanna lose any more friends in this place. So where are you four now?"

DogDay playfully places an arm on your head, careful not to put too much weight on you, his giant hand covers your view. You could hear Poppy giggling behind you.

"We're back at playcare, and we're unsure where to go next..."

"Hmm well, we're really close to the end! You're going to head to the Counselor's Office instead. It's not ideal... but it should have enough juice. If you can get that generator going and plug it in... Reroute the red smoke and ba-bam! I think we'll be done! See ya!"

"Wait!"

The line goes dead and DogDay puts the phone back.

"He's odd..."

"Pfft let's go!"

You lightly punch his arm as you continue making your way to the counselor's office. 

You know you can trust Ollie, he helped you get this far after all.

"If we make it out alive... What's the plan?"

You ask, breaking the uncanny silence.

"Well... We'll be free!"

Poppy replies as if it wasn't obvious. 

"No, no, I mean... What if I found us someplace safe?"

"That would be nice Angel."

DogDay adds, his tail wagging in excitement at the thought. 

"Hey, I'm going to check in here! Wait out here! I'll be quick!"

You quickly make your way into one of the rooms, leaving the three to stay on guard as they wait for your return.

"So when's the wedding?"

DogDays was caught off guard by Poppy's question. He knew what she was referring to.

"Oh don't act dumb, we can tell!"

She teases and giggles at him. He was clearly flustered by her remarks.

He catches sight of his reflection in the dark window across from the room you're searching in. Seeing himself instantly shifts on his mood.

"What's wrong? I was just messing with you, I'm sorry!"

"Do you really think Angel would willingly love a monster?"

They were silent, Poppy was about to speak up before you came out of the room with your new finds in hand. 

"Guys, look!"

You hold up an axe and a toolbox

"I can repair my grab pack now! Oh! And here you might find this useful, it's so heavy!"

You hand DogDay the axe. It seems to have been made for someone of his size. It struck you as odd, but you learned not to question it if it wasn't important.

"Hey, did something happen?"

You look between the three, hoping there isn't any bad blood brewing behind your back.

"No we just... Do you know how to fix your grabpack?"

Poppy tried to change the subject, but you caught on. 

"I'm a mechanical engineer, I can fix almost anything with the right tools. So what really happened? Was there a fight?"

"No Angel, we're ok I promise! Wait, is that how you've been getting around without issues?"

You giggle at DogDays curiosity. 

"Bingo! Now let's go you three!"

You were about to take the lead but DogDay decided to beat you to it. 

"Angel, stay close to me and don't leave my sight, ok?"

You hum in response.

"Yeah Angel, stay close to your protector~"

Poppy laughs out, and DogDay stays quiet through her teasing. You could've sworn you heard him growling, you wrapped your arm around his.

"No worries sunshine, I don't mind you being my protector."

You smile at him, even if it's just for a little while longer. He hopes this will last even after you escape. 

[i-want-tennis-ball]

HAPPY TENNISVERSARY!!! 🎾🎉😝

And, thank you!

When this blog started, never in a million years could I have guessed what it would become. I thought, at most, a few people would come by, laugh at me for like a week, and then forget me and move on to the next big gimmick blog. And, most definitely, that’s where I would be if not for the lovely, dedicated, passionate people I ran into.

Here’s a quick history lesson, with many thankyous scattered within..

It all really started when my lovely friend Sam, who doesn’t use tumblr, suggested I create a new gimmick blog where every day all I said was “I want ___” (with the tags, of course, all reading, “I want ___”.) I decided on tennis ball, and for about a week I vigilantly workee to ensure a tennispost every day. And things were good, then, if a little quiet, until I decided to start a reblog chain with myself, @sophiamoment , where I’d ask “what the fuck is your blog” and then my side blog would just say “I want tennis ball”.

Now, as you could probably tell, I didn’t put too much care into the post at the time. I broke character, forgot to edit out the heaps of evidence that we were the same person, replied to my own post way too many times, but THEN.

My first mutual, @somewhere-south-of-neutral , tagged @i-say-ok , who FUCKING RESPONDED. (guess what they said lmao)

This brought lots of attention to that particular post, first by the I say Ok community, then by another gimmick blog reblogging, and then by THAT gimmick blog’s community, and so on. To this day my one goal in life is to relive that pure excitement, joy, and just a little horror I felt when I saw just how far that post was breaking beyond containment.

Honestly, if you’d asked me then, I’d assume that from there my blog shoulda died, but then. ohoHOH.

A blog whose URL I forget going by A Tennis Ball responded.

I promptly created @another-tennis-ball in response.

And then things went, as my gramma would say, hog wild.

Today, we’ve got a masterlist of tennis ball roleplay blogs longer than my list of flaws. We’ve got active, inactive, sometimes-active accounts, all of whom have had fun just.. talking, pretending to be tennis balls, just having a good time. (Even my parents got involved!) There’s a discord, a lore doc, an upcoming crossover w/ a DND campaign my friend wrote(?!)

And, here we are today.

All I can really say is THANK YOU!

Thank you to those of you who passed by and spread the one infamous “what the fuck is your blog” post. Thank you to everyone who’s gotten involved and paved the way to this community. THANK YOU TO MARC, WHOS URL I FORGET, WHO IS CARRYING THE LORE RN!!

I love you all so much, thank you for being here & turning my shitpost into a reality.