#what tags do i use for this. like. i guess uh

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑴𝒂𝒎𝒂’𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑩𝒐𝒚*

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Older Reader hinted at as much as I could lol. Bratty!Jeongin, Hair pulling, biting/hickeys, face sitting, oral(f), Edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, multiple rounds/orgasms and creampies, “mama” used, I think I used noona once. Sorry for any missing tags or missing warnings.

A/N: This is a little shorter than I wanted it to be but *Cough cough* I’m always in need of a bratty jeongin who gets put in his place by an older reader.

Find Request Here

-🖤

Jeongin was being particularly feisty today. Making snippy comments back to anything you had said. Even a simple “can you grab that for me” was met with a huff. You didn’t know what got into him but you were getting annoyed with it. “Jeongin” you said sternly looking at him as he looked grumpy on the couch. When he didn’t reply you said his name again.

“What!” He said glaring at you.

“Fix that attitude” you said glaring back at him.

“I don’t have an attitude” he said crossing his arms looking back at the tv.

You sighed, so he wanted to play this game did he. You walked over to him standing in front of the tv. He huffed turning off the tv “whatever, I’ll just go to the room.” He said getting up from the couch. Oh. Oh he was in for it.

You grabbed his arm, pushing him back to the couch. “Excuse you?” You said now hovering above him.

“What the hell!” He hissed back.

“Yeah? What the hells with your attitude!”

“I told you I don’t have an attitude! Stop acting like you’re my- my fucking mother!” He growled back.

You looked at him for a second tilting your head. Gritting your teeth leaning close to him “say that again.” You could see him crumbling under your gaze.

“I- i-“ he stuttered out.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, straddling his lap you ran your hand up the back of his head. Grabbing a chunk of hair pulling it ever so slightly. “Guess I’m just gonna have to fix that attitude myself huh? Dumb little fox” you said voice almost in a hum. You could see him gulp before you leaned down biting his neck. He groaned at the pain his hands flying up to your side. “Nuh uh, you don’t deserve to touch me” you said slapping his hands away.

“That’s not fair” he whined.

“You know what’s not fair? The unwarranted attitude I received all day” you said looking down at him. “Now you either listen or I’ll get the ropes” you said firmly. He slinked his hands back down to his side before you continued your movements on his neck. When he was finally all covered in marks you pulled away standing up. “Pants. Off.” You said and he complied right away. “Good now you can help take mine off.” You said.

He did as he was told stripping you of your bottom and panties. “Lay down on the couch” you demanded. Again doing as he was told hoping you’d let him off a little easy but that wasn’t gonna happen. Not after the attitude he had today, oh no. “Keep those hands to yourself” you said before positioning yourself so your cunt was hovering over his head. “You’re gonna make me cum before I even think about touching you” you said before letting your body down on him. He looked up at you with those beautiful eyes, eyes that were already rolling back at your taste.

He lapped at your folds, tongue darting into your core. You grabbed his hair rolling your hips on his tongue. You let out a small chuckle seeing his knuckles turning white from gripping the couch. As you rolled your hips you leaned back grabbing his cock. He jumped at the sudden touch making him groan. You started moving your hand faster and faster knowing he wasn’t gonna last. “Close” he choked out. You let go of him making him whine ruining his high. You kept up the torture anytime he was close letting go before continuing the cycle.

“Please” he whimpered out.

“Why should I let you cum when you haven’t even made me cum yet hmm?”

“No-Noona- m’sorry” he cried.

“Less talking my little fox” you said ever so sweetly.

Jeongin was now on a mission, sucking at your clit as you road his face. He bit ever so gently, the moan you let out had his head turning. You were close- fuck and so was he again. His hands finally found their way to your hips pulling you down onto him as far as you could. His hands slinking their way up your chest. As much as you wanted to protest you didn’t feeling your high quickly approaching. Something jeongin knew all too well is that you needed his touch, you craved it as much as he craved yours.

“Please cum for me! Please please” he begged. Those pretty eyes stared up at you with desperation. You were gone. Pulling his hair harshly as your legs closed around him. He licked you clean like the good boy you knew he was.

When you finally came down from your high you shifted yourself down. With no warning to him you sunk yourself down taking his cock fully. Seating yourself perfectly on him. He moaned out body moving like he was trying to get away “can’t- I’m-“ he couldn’t even get out the words before he was cumming deep inside of you. “M’sorry” he said in a whisper.

“It’s okay baby, it’s only the start” you said with a devilish grin.

You moved up and down on his sensitive cock, it still slightly hard. His hands gripped at your hips pathetically whimpering. “T’much- m’so sensitive-“ he cried it only falling on deaf ears though.

“Gonna keep that attitude in check my little fox?” You said looking down at his contorted face. He nodded. “Use your words baby” you coo’d.

“Yes- yes! M’sorry I’ll be good”

“Mamas good boy?” You said.

“Mm- ah- mams good boy!” He stuttered out feeling himself about to cum again.

The night went on with this. You had him cumming over and over, but so were you. “Mama please!- can’t- can’t-“ he cried out.

“One more baby? Just one more please my little fox” you said.

When he nodded you leaned your body down. Kissing him sloppily hands tangling in his hair. The sounds of multiple creampies filled the air with sloshing noises. You were sticky from sweat body’s sticking together like glue. You tugged on his hair gently making him whimper into the kiss. “My good boy” you said softly. His hands coming around you before one final thrust he was cumming again. He moved his hands down your body playing with your overly sensitive clit. “N-no you gotta- please cum for me” he groaned out his little hip movements pushing everything deep into you.

He chased your lips hungrily before squeezing your clit gently, sending you over the edge once more. Your legs shook. Body completely collapsing into his. He held onto you whispering little I’m sorrys only for you to shush him. “It’s ok baby, you- you were such a good boy, even making sure I came after you did” you said kissing his cheek gently.

“Let’s get cleaned up and we can have those cookies I made” you said with a smile. Making him nod happily. After showering and cookies you both were curled up on the couch. Jeongin falling asleep in your arms.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[harrywavycurly]

Loving a Killer: Tuesdays are for Dancing

Masterlist: Here

Pairing: Killer!Harry x wife!reader

Tag List: @umadirectioner

CW: Language, mentions of ways to harm someone, mentions of weapons, mentions of drugs (it’s a pain medication that Harry doesn’t know about), threats, and as always Harry and Mitch kill people for a living in this series.

A/N: I had to come up with a way to introduce y’all to Niall and this just seemed to fit? It’s dramatic but in a fun-ish way or at least in a fun way for this series.

Summary: Mitch gets a call while him and Harry are at work and it leads so some dramatic events that let us get introduced to your nosey cubical mate that is the one and only Niall Horan✨

“I say we use the zip ties on his ankles.” Harry suggests as he places a hand on his hip while running his free one through his hair as he stands in front of a fold out table littered with different objects he packed with him for this evening’s job. “Makes it easier to move him to the trunk if his ankles are tied together and the zip ties haven’t let us down before unlike the-”

“I get it okay? Rope only works in the movies but how was I supposed to know that?” Mitch says in an attempt to defend his choice of wanting to use rope on a man’s hands and feet a few jobs ago, but it ended up being a massive issue because the rope kept coming undone as they moved the body from the living room to the car and then to the woods to be disposed of.

“It could’ve worked if you knew how to properly tie a knot.” Harry states as he reaches for the bundle of zip ties while Mitch just rolls his eyes as he walks over to the man lying on his back in the middle of the basement.

“Let me guess-” Harry turns to look over his shoulder as Mitch bends down and grabs the knife from next to the man’s wrist, placing it in his open duffle bag near the table. “You know how to tie a perfect knot?” He questions making Harry just shrug as he looks back at the table so he can count out four zip ties, deciding it’s best to do the wrists as well just to be safe.

“I mean I’ve been known to be able to tie a decent knot or at least one someone can’t wiggle their way out of.” Mitch doesn’t miss the slight suggestive tone to Harry’s voice as he talks or the small smirk that tugs at his lips when he turns to hand him two zip ties so he can get started on tying the man’s wrists together while Harry works on his ankles.

“Really? She’s into being-” Before Harry can even shoot him a warning glare to watch what comes out of his mouth next, Mitch’s brows are pinching together as he moves the zip ties to one hand so he can reach into his back pocket of his jeans for his phone. “Uh hello?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he begins to zip tie the man’s ankles while keeping a watchful eye on his bestfriend who in all the years he’s been working with him can count on three fingers the times he’s ever answered the phone while on a job.

“Yes-yeah he’s with me.” Mitch gives Harry a quick glance making Harry get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What? Uh-uhm okay yeah yeah we will uh-yeah be right there uh huh-bye.” Harry is already done with the man’s ankles and standing up by the time Mitch is hanging up and sliding his phone back into his jeans.

“What happened?” Mitch runs a hand over his face with his free hand before he looks at Harry who is packing his backpack up, preparing to leave the moment Mitch explains what the phone call was about because he can just tell whatever it was about isn’t good.

“That was Niall-”

“Niall? As in my wife’s coworker Niall?”

“Uh yeah so apparently she goes to-”

“To dance lessons on Tuesdays? Yeah because that’s the night we work late and she doesn’t like to be home alone at night that much. Now what the fuck happened? Why did he call you?”

“Well if you would just let me talk I would happily tell you.” Harry sends Mitch a glare as he shoves the last of his stuff into his backpack but Mitch just ignores him as he quickly finishes zip tying the man’s wrists together.

“Niall went with her tonight because he was bored and I guess something happened and he thinks her toe is broken? But she’s okay and-and Harry dude where are you going? I drove us here you asshole!” Mitch shouts as he scrambles to get to his feet and grab his duffle bag before Harry is at the top of the stairs that lead to the kitchen of the man’s house.

The thing is Mitch knows Harry well enough to know he will absolutely leave him here if he doesn’t make it to the car fast enough so Mitch skips every other step and barley makes it into the passenger seat before Harry is putting the car into reserve and heading towards where he already knows you’re at. Harry doesn’t bother looking at how fast he’s going or how quickly the lights change from yellow to red as he runs through them. The only thing running through his mind is getting to you as fast as he can because until his eyes land on you and he sees for himself just how badly you’re hurt or hopefully how not hurt you really are, he can’t focus on much else.

“Traffic laws are still in effect by the way and I’m pretty sure you’ve already broken three of them.” Mitch reminds his friend who he knows is just in a panicked and probably slightly angry state of mind over the fact you got hurt and he wasn’t there to stop it from happening or make you feel better the moment it happened.

“Yeah well coming from someone who just stabbed a man not even two hours ago I think traffic laws are the least of our worries.” Harry argues with a casual tone that makes Mitch just let out a chuckle as he shakes his head.

“You just always have to be right don’t you?” This gets a small smile out of Harry as he briefly looks over at Mitch with a shrug.

“So…Niall has your number?” Mitch lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes making Harry grin because he can see the tiniest hint of a smile wanting to form on his face, he knew the two of them hit it off when they met a few weeks ago at the festival but he hadn’t heard much else about it because well Mitch isn’t one to share details about his personal life unless Harry really pushes for them.

Mitch knows Harry is only asking about Niall as a way to distract himself so his mind won’t wonder off to the darkest corners and start imagining the worst possible scenarios the two of them could be headed towards even though the only injury either of them know you might have is a broken toe. So Mitch decides that he’ll be nice, he will let Harry in on some bits of information regarding the Irish brunette man he was forced to meet at an event he only agreed to go to because of the promise of cookies and the chance to indulge in carving into something for fun and not for work, Mitch has always enjoyed a good pumpkin carving contest. But he also isn’t going to give this information up easily, so he thinks of something Harry can do for him in exchange for it.

“I’ll tell you about it if you actually stop at the next red light.” Mitch offers causing Harry to let out a huff as he reluctantly lets off the gas just a bit, his way of silently agreeing to the terms his bestfriend gave him making Mitch loosen the death like grip he has on the passenger side door handle.

Niall is a ball of nerves as he looks at the door of the bar waiting for it to burst open and to see your husband walk through it, he chews on his bottom lip as he looks down at his phone and sees it’s been five minutes since he’s called Mitch so he knows that’s probably way too soon for Harry to arrive considering both of them were at work when he called. He wouldn’t feel so nervous if the last few times he saw Harry he was just a little more friendly because the thing Niall doesn’t understand is how someone who works with computers and is a certified tech nerd can be so terrifying but that’s exactly what Harry is to Niall, terrifying. He knows the moment Mitch and Harry walk through the door he is going to be getting some hard glares and probably a nasty comment or two so he’s just trying to prepare himself the best he can.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t a good color I just said it’s unusual that’s all.” Niall’s head shoots up at the sound of Mitch’s voice as his eyes land on the door just in time to see Mitch walk through it with Harry following close behind him.

Now Niall has seen Harry before, he’s met him three or four times in casual settings and once at an office party but he’s never seen him look quite like this. The sleeves of his all black button up are rolled up to his elbows letting him get an eyeful of the tattoos that decorate his forearms and hands, it’s tucked into well fitting black trousers that are held up with a thin black belt while his hair is pushed back and his usual glasses are gone making Niall assume he has contacts in. It’s as if his attire just adds another layer of his already intimidating personality making Niall swallow down his nerves as Harry’s eyes finally land on him.

“Where is she?” Niall feels his eyes go wide at how harsh and deep Harry’s voice is as he walks towards where he’s standing near the end of the bar. He opens his mouth to say something but it’s as if all of a sudden Niall doesn’t knows how to form actual words so he just kind of stands there opening and closing his mouth for a moment making Harry’s jaw clench as his eyes narrow in one of the harshest glares Niall has ever been on the receiving end of.

“She’s in my office.” Harry’s glare softens as he looks away from Niall and towards Jeff who is standing behind the bar cleaning some glasses.

“Thanks.” Harry calls over his shoulder as he rushes past Niall and towards the back office of the bar and that’s when Niall lets out a deep sigh as he turns to rest his hands on the top of the bar finally feeling like he can somewhat breathe now that Harry is out of the room.

“Don’t take it personally he’s like that with everyone.” Mitch explains as he comes up to stand next to Niall so he can place a reassuring hand on his back.

“Is he always so-so intense?” Mitch just shrugs as Niall turns his head to look at him with a raised brow. “Nice to see you again by the way. This isn’t exactly how I imagined it going but I’ll take what I can get.” Niall jokes or at least tries to as an attempt to lighten the mood and he thinks it’s worked when he hears a soft chuckle come from Mitch’s mouth.

“Harry just really loves his wife that’s all.” Mitch explains as he looks around Niall and signals Jeff who just gives him a nod and a smile before turning around to start making Mitch’s usual drink. Niall just rolls his eyes as he turns his body so he’s now facing Mitch with his elbow on the bar and his hands clasped together in front of him.

“Oh come on the man looked like he wanted to kill-”

“What the fuck did you give her?” Harry’s voice is loud and full of anger that’s directed towards the man standing in front of Mitch as he comes barreling out of Jeff’s office. Niall doesn’t have time to do anything before Harry has a fistful of his shirt and is shoving his back into the bar with one hand while his other hand slams down onto the top of the bar allowing him to lean over Niall as he speaks. “You have five seconds to tell me why my wife is in that office acting loopy and dazed out of her fucking mind.” Mitch doesn’t even flinch at how harsh Harry’s tone is as his grip on Niall’s shirt tightens, Mitch just places a hand on Harry’s shoulder which he instantly shrugs off making Mitch roll his eyes.

“Harry you’ve got to-”

“Tell me to calm down and I swear I’ll break his nose right now.” Harry threatens as he quickly turns to give Mitch a look that makes the long haired man let out a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair. “You now have three seconds.” He states as his attention goes back to Niall who is trying his hardest not to freak out at the fact he just heard Harry casually mention breaking his nose.

“She uhm said she-she was in pain so I gave her something to make her feel better that’s all.” Niall explains the best he can with how he’s bent over the bar.

“You don’t know me very well Niall but you should know that I hate to repeat myself.” Niall closes his eyes after Harry’s statement half expecting to feel a blow to his face giving him the broken nose he heard him mention just a moment before. “So just know I’m only going to ask you one more time.” Niall slowly opens his eyes as Harry’s grip on his shirt loosens but only slightly. “What did you give her?” Mitch looks at Niall over Harry’s shoulder and raises an eyebrow at him and that’s when Niall realizes he might’ve made a mistake.

“I gave her a pain pill I had saved over from my knee surgery that I just keep around for emergencies.” Harry quirks a brow at Niall’s admission as his eyes momentarily glance down to his knees and Mitch knows he’s storing that information for later just incase he needs to use it against the man he still has in his harsh grip. “I just wanted her to feel better I’m sorry.” He blurts out making Harry let out a scoff as he gives Niall a shove as he releases his hold on his shirt.

“Oh well she’s feeling wonderful Niall so wonderful she can’t tell even me what actually hurts or what happened.” Harry says with a dark chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair while he turns to take a step away from Niall. “All she knows is that she feels nice and floaty.” He says as he glares at Niall over his shoulder, Niall stands up and fixes his shirt with a sigh as he glances towards the office door he knows you’re currently behind.

“I’m sorry-” Niall’s apology is cut off by Harry just ignoring him as he heads back towards the office, Mitch just gives Niall a sympathetic look as he follows behind.

“I know he seems like a massive jackass and for the most part he is but maybe if you go back there,” Jeff’s voice causes Niall to spin around and face the bar as he places a shot of whiskey down in front of him, Niall follows Jeff’s head tilt in the direction of his office. “You’ll see him in a different light.” He finishes explaining as Niall reaches down for the shot glass.

“I’d rather not get my ass kicked but thanks.” Niall answers before downing the shot and handing the empty glass to Jeff who just laughs.

“He won’t even notice you’re in the room.”

“Trust me he’ll notice. He fucking hates me man. I practically drugged his wife.”

“If you’re in the same room as her then no. He won’t.” With that Jeff turns and heads towards the opposite end of the bar leaving Niall standing there with no other option really than to just suck it up and honestly he doesn’t want to seem like a horrible friend so he needs to at least go check and see how you’re doing.

Mitch turns to look at the door when he sees it open and he gives Niall a small smile as he leans against the doorframe a few feet from where Mitch is leaning against the wall closest to the door. Harry doesn’t pay him any attention as he kneels down in front of the small couch in Jeff’s office, right in front of where your left foot is propped up on a pillow.

“Baby can you tell me if this hurts?” Niall feels his mouth slightly drop open at the tone of Harry’s voice, it’s soft and gentle, not a trace of the anger Niall heard earlier and the way he’s looking at you is as if he thinks even too harsh of a glance could break you.

“Sweetheart.” Harry’s face breaks out into a playful smile as he looks over at you and sees your eyes are closed but he knows by the way you’re breathing that you’re not asleep, just acting like you are.

“You sound like my husband.” Mitch chuckles as you let out a sigh while still keeping your eyes closed while Harry just playfully rolls his eyes at you as he gently reaches over and puts his hand on top of your foot. “But you can’t actually be him because it’s Tuesday and Tuesdays are for dancing.” Harry just nods with a smile still on his face as he puts a little bit of pressure on your foot while looking at your face for any signs of discomfort.

“Oh is he not allowed to come to these dancing Tuesdays?” Harry asks as he moves his hand further down your foot, still applying pressure and seeing if you show any signs of pain. When you give him a small pout he immediately removes his hand from your foot and rests it on your ankle. “Did that hurt baby?” Harry questions with a furrowed brow as you slowly open your eyes.

“He works late Tuesdays and comes home when I’m asleep.” You mumble sadly making Harry return your pout as he stands up and places a hand on the back of the couch so he can lean down and place a kiss to your forehead. “You wanna know a secret?” Harry just lets out a soft chuckle as he nods his head while you try to sit up onto your elbows. “Sometimes I’m not asleep and I just act like I am.” You whisper making Harry smile at the little giggle you let out when you fall back onto the couch after telling him your secret.

“That’s so sneaky of you love.” He teases making you smile as you reach up and place a hand on his cheek. “I’m sure your husband hates Tuesdays and coming home so late he has to eat dinner all alone and can’t even get a goodnight kiss.” He explains as he places a kiss to the inside of your wrist before you pull your hand away from his face.

“You always get a goodnight kiss.” You argue making Harry laugh as he leans down to place a quick kiss to your lips in an attempt to get rid of your fake pout.

“Do I? Are you sure?” He asks as he pulls away making you roll your eyes and let out a huff as you cross your arms over your chest.

“Yes I’m sure because you wake me up and beg me for one because you’ll have bad dreams if you don’t get it.” Harry just nods as he quickly leans down and kisses your cheeks before standing up and turning to grab your purse and shoes off the floor.

“That’s right sweetheart your goodnight kisses keep the bad dreams away so if I have to beg for them then so be it.” You smile as you watch him gather your things into your purse and toss the bag over his shoulder before he turns back around so he facing you.

“Hi.” You mumble as you look up at him causing a dimpled grin to take over his face as he looks down at you.

“Hi baby.” He says as he holds out his hands for you to take to help you sit up. “Ready to go home?” You just nod your head and before you can even ask him for your shoes you feel one of his arms under your knees and another under your arms scooping you into his arms. Niall moves out of the way before Harry has to tell him to allowing room for the two of them to exit the office and when you see Niall you give him a big smile and a wave.

“Bye Niall! See you tomorrow!” Niall just laughs and waves back at you while Harry ignores the interaction as he heads for the door to the bar with the keys to your car in his hand.

Harry knows he’s going to have to smooth things over with Niall at some point but not tonight, not when he’s still not even sure what exactly happened or what exactly on your foot hurts. As much as he hates to say it, he can admit he understands why Niall did what he did because he saw his friend in pain and wanted to help so he did what he thought would make you feel better. He just hopes that Niall will keep his moment of anger between the two of them because he just made you a promise about threatening people and he knows you’ll be beyond upset with him if you find out he threatened your cubical mate. But he will find a time to worry about that later because right now all he wants to worry about is getting you home and then figuring out which movie you want to watch in bed while he makes you dinner and gets you situated before he has to unfortunately return to the man in the basement to finish his job for the evening but he decides that can at least wait until you’ve gone to sleep.

With Harry gone Mitch takes a moment and looks over at Niall who he can tell is struggling with understanding how that man was the same man who had him bent over a bar as he casually threatened to break his nose not even five minutes ago. It’s something everyone who meets Harry goes through because they all come to learn that there’s two sides to Harry and only one person gets the side that involves gentle touches and soft voices and that person is you. But Mitch knows that since Niall is your coworker he gets told stories about the softer side of Harry and even though the past few times he’s been around him while Harry hasn’t been the friendliest he wasn’t ever blatantly an asshole, so meeting the rougher side of him full force tonight was probably a bit much.

“It’s weird right?” Mitch asks breaking Niall out of his trance as he stares at the door you and Harry just went through. “Seeing him like that with her?”

“Is he a Gemini or something?” Niall asks with a more than serious expression on his face as he looks from the door to Mitch who just laughs and shakes his head as he reaches over and puts a hand on Niall’s shoulder. “Like with the two people in one body kinda thing?” He adds with a quirked brow making Mitch just give his shoulder a little squeeze.

“Nope he’s an Aquarius.”

[milimeters-morales]

okay under the readmore is part 1 of a oneshot i wrote about an autistic miles morales for fun, but overlapped pretty conveniently with disability pride month at the time. Really self-indulgent, and i got some nice reviews on it and wanted to test sharing my writing on here for autism acceptance month ^.^

Content Warning: Miles does self harm a good amount in both parts without realizing, and thinks some pretty ableist thoughts (at least I think they would be considered that) about himself every now and then.

Word Count: 5k+

Pairings: Minor Milesganke, everything else is platonic!

Miles lets his feet dangle off the side of the building, his heel hitting the brick wall to a rhythm in his head. One two, swing out, one two, swing out, one two, shake-swing out, and start all over. He layed back on the roof, soaking up the last of the warmth from the sun and heated concrete. It was a common thing he did, this rhythm and movement, it helped him calm down or keep him from getting too bored. Too bored was bad, too bored was almost physically painful, but it’s not like he’d tell anybody that. Well, anybody besides Ganke. The other boy understood that perfectly well, it’s one of the many reasons they’re best friends.

He wasn’t sure why he actually did this though. But he didn’t like to think too hard about it, and he’s always got a lot of other stuff to do anyway!

Speaking of, Miles sits up, still letting his feet hit the wall and bounce off, when there’s a pained shout from below. Seeing a man in a dirty chef’s apron bending over with a hand on his back and a pained expression, Miles jumps down from the roof and lands quietly on the street in front of him.

“Do you want some help?” He asks him. The man nods his head to the paint buckets on the ground next to him, and Miles easily picks them up, barely registering the weight. The man walks stiffly and a bit hunched inside his shop, telling Miles to set the paints down on an empty table.

The inside was a mess. Napkins littered the floors and tables, sauces on the seats and counter, and a whole uneaten meal sat alone on the far end of the counter. Miles glances again at the man. He’s sweaty, exhausted looking, all alone in here going by how Miles can hear only his heartbeat, and he just hurt his back. There’s no way Miles would leave this man to deal with this mess himself.

“I’m gonna clean up these napkins so we don’t slip,” Miles tells him, already picking up the pieces. He wouldn’t slip of course, but the man definitely would if he wasn’t careful. “So, Mr…”

“Call me Bob,” the man says after putting the paints away somewhere in the back of the kitchen.

“Mr. Bob, how’d this even happen?”

Mr. Bob sighs and runs a hand through his short hair. “My kids invited their friends over, made a huge mess, left before I saw it, you know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Miles agrees, not knowing how it is at all. He throws all the napkins in the trash and was about to ask where a towel was so he could clean up some of the sauce mess, but Mr. Bob places his hands on his back again.

“Hey Mr. Spider-Man, how about you run along? My back is killing me, and I don’t wanna make you clean up alone,” he says, eyebags somehow becoming more prominent by the second. Miles winced under the mask and hoped it didn’t translate through. 

“That’s nice of you, but are you sure? I really don’t mind,” Miles offers, making a sweeping gesture to the rest of the mess still in the store.

“Nah nah nah, it’s fine. It’s my kids who should be cleaning it up anyway. I’ll make them do it when they get home,” Mr. Bob explains. 

Ah, okay. That’s better than the man just working in pain. 

“Alright. Bye sir!” Miles leaves Mr. Bob inside the shop, and swings away to another rooftop. He wishes he knew more about treating bad backs though, he might have been able to help more! Maybe he could ask his mom? But wait, would that be an overly familiar thing to do for a stranger? Surely not, helping someone in pain is what he does nearly everyday anyway…but some people get real upset if he has to help them, and he just doesn’t know why. Ugh, so complicated, and for what?

Doing a few extremely low swings that end up sending him high into the air, he lets the wind press against him with each rise and fall. It’s like being smushed, or hugged just tight enough to make you so relaxed that you feel weightless. He gets dizzy sometimes, but in a good way, he promises. He wishes Ganke could feel this. He wishes a lot of people could feel this, actually. They’d be much happier, he’s sure of it!

___

It’s not like he’s… embarrassed, he guesses is the right word, to have to keep shaking his hands at his sides. It’s just that he gets weird looks sometimes when he does it. It’s not often at all, it’s actually pretty rare, but when it does happen, it makes a weird feeling curl in his stomach and around his throat, making it hard to speak, which is embarrassing. It makes him stutter, pronounce words wrong, makes him unable to focus on whatever’s happening, it even made him tear up one time. It’s different, when he just doesn’t speak for a while, because at those times there’s nobody pressuring him to talk or for an answer on why he’s “being weird”.

“Well?” the officer asks. She pointed out his shaking hands, and asked him why he was doing that. And Miles was going to answer her, he was! It’s just… the way she said it. It was like when he got caught drawing on his worksheets and the teacher made him throw the entire paper away and start over. Or his parents caught him sneaking small animals under his clothes into their apartment. Or when the kids at school would try and see what he was drawing by looming over his shoulder. 

His chest felt kind of tight. Why did he even let her approach him? He tries to avoid as much interaction with the cops as much as he can besides calling them to places

“I… uh…” was all he could manage to utter. It felt like everyone was staring at him, even when he knew that it wasn’t true.

“Spidey’s still around?” Oh god, of course his dad is here. And approaching rapidly. 

“Yeah, was trying to ask about the hand shaky thing, but he just froze up,” the officer explains, turning away briefly- Miles can feel the tightness just a little- shrugging with a raised eyebrow. She tucks her hands in her pockets and turns to look back at Miles. Great. The feeling was back.

“Oh, this?” His dad asks, copying the moment, making it much harder for Miles to not shake his hands. Thanks a lot! “My son does that, lots of kids do that. You don’t do that?” 

Miles wants to run, so he does. Not like he needed to be there anymore anyway. He’ll go somewhere that calms him down so much to the point where he doesn’t even need to shake his hands.

___

Pavitr tightens his hold on him, arms a comfortable pressure on his waist. He nuzzles into the crook of Miles’s neck, humming when Miles lets out a happy sigh. 

They do this, sometimes, when the stress is becoming too much. Just hold each other. It works out great, because Pavitr loves giving hugs, and Miles likes getting hugs, and they have no problem being this close to each other. 

Miles traces a figure eight onto Pavitr’s back, fingers feather-light on him. He doesn’t like pressure the way Miles does, says it makes him feel trapped and anxious, but Miles couldn’t disagree more if he tried. Besides the obvious bad-pressure, like a building and debris falling on you, there’s good-pressure, and that pressure is what Miles craves almost daily. It makes him feel much closer to whatever’s going on around him without making him hypersensitive to it- he can focus better, basically. The weight on his body is like a firm reassurance that he’ll be fine, that he’ll be safe, and that he’s… real. Not some mistake and about to float away into non-existence, or whatever. 

He’s heard of weighted blankets, and has been wanting one for a few years now, but he’s always chickened out when it came to asking his parents. And it’s not like he can ask any of the other spiders, then he’d have to lie to his parents how he got it, and he’s trying to keep the “lying to your loved ones” part of being Spider-Man to a minimum. Plus, he just doesn’t think it’s that serious. It’s not like he’ll die without it.

Miles stops drawing the figure in Pavitr’s back and simply rests his hand on the back of his neck. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Pavitr mumbles into his neck.

Miles wishes they weren’t wearing their suits. He’d much rather feel the vibration directly on his skin.

“Nothing,” Miles answers automatically. The two are silent for a bit before Miles continues, “Oh, there was this cop. She kept asking me about this thing I do with my hands-”

“The stimming?”

Miles ignores the interruption and continues, “-where I shake my hands when there’s too much energy somewhere and I get all antsy.”

“Should’ve brought Hobie. He would’ve dealt with her,” Pavitr says, shoulders shaking lightly with silent laughter.

Miles rolls his eyes and raises his chin to rest it on Pavitr’s head. His hair was so soft, it was another thing Miles liked about these cuddle sessions, he guesses he’d call them. Pavitr was a good mix of soft and firm, like a foam cube in a gym or children’s play area.

“Wasn’t really her fault, I just got nervous. Thought she would call me weird or something,” Miles mumbles.

“Don’t they already do that? In the uh- the uhh… The news company with the musical instrument.”

“The Tuba?”

“Yes! That is the one, haha,” Pavitr giggles, “remember when they called you a clone of Peter?”

God, does Miles remember. Not only was it completely out of nowhere, it just didn’t make sense for so many reasons. One, how could a clone be a different race? Two, why would a clone be way younger and have no idea what he’s doing? Wouldn’t you want your clone to be just as smart as you and the same age, so when you died, it’s like nobody would notice? They even sounded different! People called him down just to try and rip his suit to see his face for days, causing fights to break out between civilians when someone tried to defend him. He couldn’t just fight back like usual, so all he could do was lightly slap their hands away or shove them off and swing away, and then just deal with his lowering reputation that came with “self-defense.” He was glad that there were a good few people, his parents included, ready to defend Spidey if they saw that happen in front of him, but it didn’t really matter. He really hated, still hates, the Tuba for that.

He can’t see the humor in it, but a lot of other people found it funny, so maybe it was just a him thing like it sometimes is… yeah, he's probably just missing something. Miles closes his eyes and says, “Yeah,” and relaxes again when Pavitr’s sensed his hold had gotten too loose and tightened it around Miles again. 

He’d have to leave eventually, but he’ll enjoy this time while it lasts.

___

“Miles, stop that, you’re gonna get a cramp in your legs,” his mom scolds him lightly as he passes by her.

Miles looks down, and hurries to flatten his feet from walking on his tip-toes. That was always embarrassing to have pointed out, but at least he wasn’t in public doing that. 

___

It was all too much. He thought coming to Gwen’s dimension would calm him down, it was much prettier than his and a huge inspiration when it came to art, so he thought he could come here after a particularly bad fight to just enjoy the sights and maybe draw them. But now, he can’t stand the sight of most things. He can’t even stand the feeling of anything. He was huddled on a roof, a dirty, disgusting roof, there’s probably dirt all over him now and his stupid suit- it’s too on him, he can feel it and the sweat scratching at him and trying to seep into his pores. The creases causing awkward pockets where the suit isn’t actually touching him, but he can still feel it, the thought of all the germs and dirt and god , the trash, the wet trash --

how would that feel?

--his body jerks violently and he falls to his knees.

He wants to yell. But even that would feel wrong. He’d feel his voice in his teeth for god’s sake.

He takes off his gloves, but he isn’t even able to enjoy the cool breeze hitting his now exposed hands because his nails, his fucking nails , they hit the concrete and scrape lightly. The feeling sends shivers down his entire body and makes him rip his hands away as if he had been burned, and bite down hard on his fingers. He can’t fucking stand it. He- it’s too much. It’s all too much. 

nails on chalkboard 

silverware scraping

that man coughing down the street

the smell of approaching rain

metal on your teeth

blood under your nails

flesh squelching in the rubble

sickening crunch 

his breath on your face

digging in your skin

too heavy too close he’ll kill you he’ll kill you

His thoughts spiral, he can’t control it. One bad feeling, and he can’t stop thinking about the other bad feelings just like it, and it keeps going until his brain reaches the end of its list. 

He hates this. He hates that his brain even does this, that it even thinks it’s the right course of action. Nobody else’s brain does this, he bets. Why is his so dumb that it can’t even realize it’s only making things worse? 

Miles keeps biting on his fingers and starts biting on the rest of his hands when the feelings aren’t going away. He tries to him to his favorite song to calm down, but it doesn’t work- nothing is working-

Gwen is here, he vaguely registers in his mind when a black and white blur lands in front of him. She’s here, and she’s grabbing his wrists and pulling his hands out of his mouth, and she’s trying to hold him. He scrambles back, but she catches him and lifts him bridal style. Miles tries to kick out and shoves his hand in her face to make her drop him, but she holds on as tightly as possible. The pressure from her fingers digging into him is- good. Bad. It’s just more touch - he doesn’t want touch right now, he wants pressure-

holding you down you’re a mistake breaking your neck is so easy keep fighting keep fighting 

“I know,” he hears faintly. Was that him, or Gwen?

He keeps thrashing in Gwen’s hold, almost escaping once when he bit her shoulder and started to scratch, as she hopped from rooftop to rooftop. It was all a blur, he could only focus on how her heartbeat was too loud, and the feeling of her fingers and just her being so close was confusing his stupid fucking brain, it was all good, but it was actually all bad because he didn’t want that now, it made it worse actually.

“I’m sorry, I know,” he hears Gwen apologize to him. 

God. Someone end it. Someone cut him out of his skin. He can’t be here. He tries to wiggle out of her grasp one last time before he gives up and brings his hands back up to his mouth to bite down, to have any sort of control over anything he’s feeling.

“It’ll be okay,” Gwen whispers- still too loud.

He doesn’t really remember much else.

___

Miles rouses slowly. His eyes don’t open immediately when he tries, the crust is uncomfortable on his skin, and his limbs feel like they were made of stone. He turns his head to the side, only to be met with webbing. He moves his body slightly, feeling himself swing. So he’s in a hammock then. That’s fine, it’s better than waking up on the floor. Or that rooftop.

Wait, the roof, Gwen, he bit Gwen-

He sits up and looks out of the hammock as best as he can, quickly spotting the girl gently rubbing her now bandaged shoulder with a solemn expression. Quickly scrambling out and crawling down to be next to her, apologizing before he even hits the ground.

“Gwen, I am so sorry, I have no idea what came over me, I don’t know why I did that to you, I’m so sorry-”

Gwen stops him, “Miles, calm down, I’m fine, see?” She gestures to her shoulder, and his eyes trail down and catch her bandaged hand.

He doesn’t even remember that one, and that makes him feel even worse. Shame curls in his gut, makes his fingers twitch, he feels disgusting.

“Listen, you aren’t disgusting,” Gwen says gently, “you were scared and in pain, you might have been overstimulated. I know it gets really hard to control what you do. I’ve done, like, the same thing.” 

Miles nods, not believing her.

“Seriously Miles. I’m not mad or anything.”

Yeah right. Who wouldn’t be mad after being bit and just… being forced to deal with whatever that was. Even he’s mad about it, because it never lasts. It always ends eventually, he doesn’t know why he was being so dramatic and violent when he could have just stayed still and dealt with it until it passed.

It’s whatever. It’s over now, and Gwen is clearly trying to move on from it. He shouldn’t make her more upset. Talking with her is already like walking a tightrope, lately.

“I uh, I wrapped you up in that hammock. Did that help? You said- well, not really said, it was more like… mumbling, that you just wanted pressure. So did that help at all?” Gwen stumbles through asking, fiddling with her hands and furrowing her brow.

Her question takes him out of his thoughts for a second. “I guess it did,” Miles says after a moment of consideration. He honestly wasn’t sure how he was feeling, but he certainly wasn’t feeling bad, so that’s definitely an improvement. He’d have to keep this hammock idea in mind, how did he never think of that?

And like the strings controlling her had been cut, her shoulders drooping and lenses closing as she breathes out a sigh of relief (look at what you did to her, Miles), Gwen reaches out to him. She stops right before they make contact, allowing Miles to move forward and finish the hug. Gwen hugs tighter, but in weird waves, like she doesn’t actually know how long a hug is supposed to last and keeps trying to part when she thinks she should. Miles loves it anyway, because it’s Gwen, and the last time she hugged him this tight was when… oh, nevermind that. He doesn’t want to think about that right now.

Gwen’s hug tightens again, and he feels the tension in his body slipping away.

___

The one thug that’s still conscious decides to try his luck at talking with him. 

“So I noticed something…”

Congratulations , Miles doesn’t say. He doesn’t have the energy to speak to anybody for the night, and while people didn’t really like that because it also tended to mean Peter was ready to beat someone to a pulp, they’ve learned that sometimes the new Spider-Man was just… didn’t speak.

“Why are you organizing us by shoe size? And you got Har- um, gray tennis shoes wrong. He wears a size 11.”

A good save on the name reveal AND a correction so his order is perfect? Well mister, looks like you’re walking away scott-free tonight!

Just kidding . Miles smiles to himself as he picks up “Gray Tennis Shoes” and places him in between Blue Nikes (size 10)  and Black Boots (size 12 and a half). He turns back towards the talking thug, pointing to his shoes, who sighs before answering, “Size 7. And a half.”

Miles smiles wider as he drags the cocooned man to the right spot, and begins walking away to investigate the den.

“Wait, you didn’t answer my question! Why are you organizing us like this?” The man calls out to him, trying to sit up but failing. 

Because he overheard cops on duty making fun of the way he organized people by their hair color last time. He had to go for something a bit less noticeable. Obviously. 

But Miles doesn’t say any of this, because he just doesn’t want to. Not like he had to answer that guy anyway.

___

Now, don’t get him wrong. He doesn’t have complete control over when he wants to speak or not, as much as he’d like to pretend he does to save himself some embarrassment from admitting it. And it seems to be both random and stress-induced, which is already bad when you’re Spider-Man. Most of your days are extremely stressful with worrying about the best outcomes, the best and most effective ways to save people in danger, time management because of school or a job interview or a party your parents threw that you cannot be late for again, the usual. The simple moments to help around are like a mini-break where he can take his time to breathe and get a second wind, so they’re greatly appreciated. Don’t even get him started on the power-naps he can sometimes sneak in if it’s a calm enough day with just the right temperature and breeze…

Off track. Basically, he can’t always control if he goes silent or not.

Right now, during the cleanup after a fight, where all the debris is moved to small piles for him and others to clean up, and any civilians injured are given medical attention immediately or taken away to hospitals, he can’t speak. The villain- which looked surprisingly too high definition- only stopped attacking after it heard a little girl screaming, and it was pulled through a portal by a red, blue, and white hand. Miles didn’t even care about a Rhino from a different dimension somehow turning up here, and what that could mean about the (worsening) stability of his dimension, he just wanted to curl up somewhere nice and dark, and sleep for fifteen hours.

But Spider-Man has a duty to the people.

He removes the last bit of rubble from on top of a woman’s car, tears in her eyes as he guides her away from the smashed vehicle. She’s certainly going to have to replace it, but she definitely has bigger things to worry about, like the glass sticking out of her arm from jumping through the storefront window to avoid the Rhino’s rampage. 

That was pretty badass of you, he can’t say. He frowns. He wanted to make her feel a bit better. That’s one of the many drawbacks of this unwilling silence, it prevented him from comforting people in the way he knows best: talking their ear off until they’re too absorbed in (or annoyed by) his ramblings to freak out.

He sits with her in an ambulance that’s treating the people with more minor injuries. The paramedics are stretched thin, so he’s here taking the smallest pieces out of her arm while the paramedic is on her other side and checking for a concussion. 

The woman winces.

Sorry, he can’t say, but he looks up with a sad expression to meet her own exhausted and tear-streaked face, and knows the message isn’t getting across.

He goes back to pulling the glass out. He can’t even apologize for all the pain he’s causing her.

Focus, Miles.

“Spider-Man, you’re alright?” The paramedic asks after the woman is cleared and sent off. The hospitals have been at their highest capacity since… ugh. He doesn’t want to think about it when he has something to focus on now. “Not a talking day?”

Miles shakes his head, already making his way to help other people.

The entire time he’s pulling more glass shards out, holding more hands through painful processes and anxious checkups, hugging more children and holding more babies as the parents are found and reunited, simply sitting with those too shocked to even understand what had just happened, not once does the barrier come down. The people look to him for words of encouragement, assurances that it’ll be okay, they cling tighter to him and hope he’ll say something kind to ease their fear, that the person on the stretcher will survive and heal just fine. 

And it breaks his heart when people see he won’t say anything, it makes him feel so useless, what is he even sticking around for? He sees the hope leave their eyes, sees it replaced by grief, by horror, by nothingness. Nothingness is the worst, if you ask him. They’ve given up because he can’t even muster up enough strength to say a few simple words. It shouldn’t be this hard for him, Spider-Man, to say “you’re okay” or “take a breath” for god’s sake! If he could, he would yell until his throat was raw about how he was sorry for all this pain he’s only made worse. How everyone would be fine, just don’t look at the bodies! How they just needed to follow his breathing, and to follow him to the ambulance! Don’t worry about your destroyed car! How he’ll do better, he won’t let something like this happen again, how didn’t want this, didn’t choose this, he wants to tell them so bad-

But he can’t. So he doesn’t.

The probably-now-orphaned girl clings to his legs as they stand in front of a pile of rubble Miles hadn’t moved yet. He knew there were bodies (or what used to be bodies, anyway) under there, heard the heartbeats instantly stop while the Rhino threw the hunk of concrete so he could hold Miles down and slam his fist into his entire body. He thinks she was the one who screamed and stopped that Rhino for enough seconds to be taken away. There was blood splattered on the bottom of her frilly green dress, and all over her legs and shoes, and Miles just hopes she has family somewhere that’ll take her in. 

He really should move her away from this. At least cover her eyes.

You’re a hero, he can’t say. And I know it doesn’t mean anything right now, but you’ve saved a lot of people, he hopes his look to her gets across. You saved me.

The girl looks up at him with angry eyes and a dirty face, clean lines created by her tears going down her cheeks. Some good that did, she’s saying.

Miles says nothing, because of course he doesn’t, and holds her hand as they walk to an ambulance. She needs that blood cleaned off her.

___

Miles sobs into Ganke’s pillow, wishing the boy would return from the nurse’s office quicker. It’s been a week since then, and now he’s finally able to talk. So of course the first thing his brain makes him do is cry so hard he can’t even breathe properly. Ganke was appropriately freaked out by his sudden crying spell, and went to go get an ice pack for him for the headache that was sure to follow. 

The hiccups are bordering on painful now, his teeth and jaw aching from grinding his teeth so he doesn’t cry too loud when he needs to take a break from practically suffocating himself in the pillow. He can still see the blood on the ground, on the rubble, and on the little girl’s dress. 

He closes his eyes and covers his ears, for a reason he doesn’t understand, curling up and sobbing some more into the pillow. He tries to dig his toenails into his other foot’s skin, the pain doing nothing but making him flinch. Maybe it just wasn’t the right spot to get rid of it, these thoughts. If he found the right spot, maybe even combination, his brain would focus on the pain instead of these horrible memories. 

He removes his face from the pillow and bites down on his hand and scratches at the side of his face, his thighs, his neck, any skin he can reach. He finally feels the switch from “slightly painful and annoying” to “very painful, we’re in danger” like a gentle wave, and releases his hand from his jaw, letting out a weak cough of relief as he falls limply back onto the bed. His breathing makes it sound like he just ran a marathon, and It aches and burns like he just did too. A lot. His mind is blessedly empty and numb, he realizes, as his eyes struggle to stay open. What’s he fighting it for again?

Ganke. Right. Ganke was coming back with an ice pack for the headache that hasn’t hit yet. Stay awake for Ganke.

He inhales his friend’s faint scent from the pillow and sheets, and feels the dip in the mattress from where Ganke sleeps, a bit off center. Miles always tells him to flip his mattress, but he never does.

He faintly hears the door opening over the blood rushing in his ears, and feels a hand grab his own. The touch is gentle, but is gone before he has the chance to lean into it. There’s a welcomed cold sensation on his forehead, making him shudder and sigh.

And he’s waking up, the alarm screeching into his ear and making him groan in annoyance. He goes to smash the alarm clock, but a hand catches his before it could do any damage.

“Not this time man,” Ganke’s sleepy voice scolded from above, “we aren’t replacing that thing again.”

Above?

Miles opened his eyes, realizing he was in Ganke’s bunk. Oops. An apology was already on his lips as he peeked out from under the bunk, but it died on the tip of his tongue at the sight of Ganke’s bed-head, squinted eyes, and scrunched up nose. 

“You good? Because I had to take care of your hand last night,” the boy asks with a yawn.

Miles looks down at his hands and his eyes widen in shock. His right hand was bandaged up in a white gauze, albeit a little sloppily, like Ganke was in a rush or something when he did it.

“Yeah, sorry if it looks bad. It’s just that I wasn’t really expecting you to break skin,” the boy tells him, “have you seen my glasses?”

“They’re on your forehead,” Miles tells him in a fond tone, “and thanks man. I know it’s weird-”

“Uh uhn, don’t start that now. It’s too early in the morning for me to talk with you about if anything’s weird or not.”

Miles shrugs and rolls his eyes. “It’s always too early in the morning for you,” he says as he tries to find his clothes to get ready for the day.

___

Dear Diary,

Haven’t been the best lately. It’s like i’ve only been hurting people and myself. I bit Gwen a few weeks ago, then i couldn’t speak and help people when that Rhino dude came, and last night i bit my own hand. I know it’s bad and gross, but it feels like it’s the only thing i can do sometimes even when i can’t really control it. And it works for me most of the time so it’s real confusing. It’s like i don’t have control, and then next thing i know i’m biting myself, and i’m calmer. Ganke says it’s not weird, just worrying, but i’ve never seen anyone else do it. Guess i never really bothered to look it up either because i know it’s bad. wanted to end this entry on a good note but i can’t think of anything. tomorrow is another day though so there’s that.

Part 2 >>>

[viscarrion]

Hi!

I know i don't make uh. personal posts super often? Long story short I need some help to make sure my cats got food. currently I'm super low on funds, I'm a disabled student and I don't have the money to cover my bills and feeding the old lady.

You can help out by grabbing a commission from my Kofi, or even just. Tossing a few dollars my way?

Anything helps!

^ the old lady

[dawnthefluffyduck]

New game interest unlocked

(crow in bottom right belongs to @patchwork-crow-writes)

[anderstrevelyan]

Hi tumblr, I'm back!

Spent the past month glaring at people in bg3 and it was glorious

[art-of-wackylurker]

WAVES H10 YURAND

[Prompt Game]

Me: No fear

Waves palette: *exists*

Me: One fear

there ya go. Have some whump

[waterfallofspace]

Does anyone else hate writing the beginning of fics??

Like I know where I want the story to go, sometimes I even know where I want it to start, but trying to figure out how to open it?? Introduce the scene??

I just feel this pressure that it needs to have a good hook (thanks school-essay writing for that one) that HAS to catch the attention RIGHT away.

Maybe this is just me but it's my least favourite part of writing ;-;

[ehh-is-the-name]

The people have spoken...

Cobs would respect your gender neutral pronouns!

[skrunksthatwunk]

i just finished saw v and i don't have high hopes for the rest of the franchise (based on what ive heard) but im in too deep to stop now

[i-am-a-fucking-nerd]

have a horrible headache and usually headaches are a combo of things (esp not eating/sleeping enough) which could be the reason i have one today but. also i smoked thu which was 2 days ago and usually i get a headache 2 days after smoking. and im just. i already wrote a diary entry talking abt it and how i feel guilty and bad for like a million different reasons but now i'm also just incredibly frustrated w myself bc why do i do this!!!!!!!!!!!! i can go weeks and months w/o smoking i don't NEED to do this!!!!!

[soupjug]

i tried to remember and now i have a headache

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 66

Chapter; Highlights, etc. (you know the drill😂)

Aelin awoke to the scent of pine and snow, and knew she was home.

Not in Terrasen, not yet, but in the sense she would always be home, if Rowan was with her.

His steady breaths filled her right ear, the sound of the well and truly asleep, and the arm he'd draped across her middle was a solid, warm weight. Silvery light glazed the ancient stones of the ceiling.

Morning—or a cloudy day. The halls beyond the room offered shards of sound that she sorted through, piece by piece, as if she were assembling a broken mirror that might reveal the world beyond

Apparently, it had been three days since the battle. And the rest of the khagan's army, led by Prince Kashin, his third-eldest son, had arrived.

It was that tidbit that had her rising fully to consciousness, a hand sliding to Rowan's arm.

A caress of a touch, just to see how deeply the rejuvenating sleep held him. Three days, they'd slept here, unaware of the world. A dangerous, vulnerable time for any magic-wielder, when their bodies demanded a deep sleep to recover from expending so much power.

That was another sliver she'd picked up: Gavriel sat outside their door. In mountain lion form. People drew quiet when they approached, not realizing that as soon as they passed him, their whispers of That strange, terrifying cat could be detected by Fae ears.

Aelin ran a finger over the seam of Rowan's sleeve, feeling the corded muscle beneath. Clear her head, her body felt clear. Like the first icy breath inhaled on a winter's morning.

During the days they'd slept, no nightmare had shaken her awake, hunted her. A small, merciful reprieve.

Aelin swallowed, her throat dry. What had been real, what Maeve had tried to plant in her mind-did it matter, whether the pain had been true or imagined?

She had gotten out, gotten away from Maeve and Cairn. Facing the broken bits inside her would come later.

For now, it was enough to have this clarity back. Even though releasing her power, expending that mighty blow here, had not been her plan.

Aelin slid her gaze toward Rowan, his harsh face softened into handsomeness by sleep. And clean—the gore that had splattered them both was gone. Someone must have washed it away while they slept.

As if he sensed her attention, or just felt the lingering hand on his arm, Rowan's eyes cracked open. He scanned her from head to toe, deemed everything all right, and met her stare.

"Show-off," he muttered.

Aelin patted his arm. "You put on a pretty fancy display yourself, Prince."

He smiled, his tattoo crinkling. "Will that display be the last of your surprises, or are there more coming?"

She debated it-telling him, revealing it.

Maybe.

Rowan sat up, the blanket sliding from him.

Is this the sort of surprise that will end with my heart stopping dead in my chest?

She snorted, propping her head with a fist as she traced idle marks over the scratchy blanket.

"I sent a letter-when we were at that port in Wendlyn."

Rowan nodded. "To Aedion."

"To Aedion," she said, quietly enough that Gavriel couldn't hear from his spot outside the door. "And to your uncle. And to Essar." Rowan's brows rose. "Saying what?" She hummed to herself. "Saying that I was indeed imprisoned by Maeve, and that while 1 was her captive, she laid out some rather nefarious plans."

Her mate went still. "With what goal in mind?"

Aelin sat up, and picked at her nails.

"Convincing them to disband her army. Start a revolt in Doranelle. Kick Maeve off the throne. You know, small things."

Rowan just looked at her. Then scrubbed at his face. "You think a letter could do that?"

"It was strongly worded." He gaped a bit. "What sort of nefarious plans did you mention?"

"Desire to conquer the world, her complete lack of interest in sparing Fae lives in a war, her interest in Valg things." She swallowed. "I might have mentioned that she's possibly Valg."

Rowan started. Aelin shrugged. "It was a lucky guess. The best lies are always mixed with truth."

"Suggesting Maeve is Valg is a fairly outlandish lie, even for you. Even if it turned out to be true."

She waved a hand. "We'll see if anything comes of it."

"If it works, if they somehow revolt and the army turns against her..." He shook his head, laughing softly. "It'd be a boon in this war."

"I scheme and lie so grandly, and that's all the credit I get?"

Rowan flicked her nose. "You'll get credit if her army doesn't show up. Until then, we prepare as if they are. Which is highly likely." At her frown, he said, "Essar doesn't wield much power, and my uncle doesn't take many risks. Not like Enda and Sellene. For them to overthrow Maeve ... it would be monumental. If they even survived it."

Her stomach churned. "It's their choice, what they do. I only laid out the facts." Carefully worded facts and half guesses. An absolute gamble, if she was being honest.

Rowan smirked. "And other than attempting to overthrow Maeve's throne? Any other surprises I should know about?"

Her smile faded as she lay back down, Rowan doing the same beside her. "There are no more." At his raised brows, she added, "I swear it on my throne. There are no more left."

The amusement in his eyes guttered. "I don't know whether to be relieved."

"Everything I know, you know. All the cards are on the table now."

With the various armies that had gathered, with the Lock, with all of it.

"Do you think you could do it again?" he asked. "Draw up that much power?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. It required being ... contained. With the irons."

A shadow darkened his face, and he rolled onto his side, propping up his head. "I've never seen anything like it."

"You never will again." It was the truth.

"If the cost of that much power is what you endured, then I'll be glad not to."

Aelin ran a hand down the powerful muscles of his thigh, fingers snagging in the rip of fabric just above his knee. "I didn't feel you get this wound through the mating bond," she said, grazing the thick ridge of the new scar. A trophy from the battle. She made herself meet his piercing stare. Did Maeve somehow break that part of it? That part of us?

"No," he breathed, and stroked the hair from her brow. "I've realized that the bond only conveys the pain of the gravest wounds."

She touched the spot on his shoulder where Asterin Blackbeak's arrow had pierced him all those months ago. The moment she'd known what he was to her.

"It was why I didn't know what was happening to you on the beach," Rowan said roughly. Because the whipping, brutal and unbearable as it had been, hadn't brought her to the brink of death. Only into an iron coffin.

She scowled. "If you're about to tell me that you feel guilty for it—"

"We both have things to grapple with—about what happened these months."

A glance at him, and she knew he was well aware of what still clouded her soul.

And because he was the only person who saw everything she was and did not walk away from it, Aelin said, "I wanted that fire to be for Maeve."

"I know." Such simple words, and yet it meant everything-that understanding.

"I wanted it to make things ... better." She loosed a long breath. "To wipe it all away." Every memory and nightmare and lie.

"It will take a while, Aelin. To face it, work through it."

"I don't have a while."

His jaw tensed. "That remains to be seen." She didn't bother arguing. Not as she admitted, "I want it to be over."

He went wholly still, but granted her the space to think, to speak.

"I want it to be over and done with," she said hoarsely. "This war, the gods and the Wyrdgate and the Lock. All of it." She rubbed her temples, pushing past the weight, the lingering stain that no fire might cleanse. "I want to go to Terrasen, to fight, and then I want it to be over."

She'd wanted it to be over since she'd learned the true cost of forging the Lock anew.

Had wanted it to be over with each of Cairn's lashes on the beach in Eyllwe. And all he'd done to her afterward. Whatever it might bring about, however it might end, she wanted it to be over.

She didn't know who and what it made her.

Rowan remained silent for a long moment before he said, "Then we will make sure the khagan's host goes north. Then we will return to Terrasen and crush Erawan's armies." He brought her hands to his mouth for a swift kiss.

"And then, after all that, we'll see about this damned Lock." Uncompromising will filled his every breath, the air around them.

She let it be enough for both of them.

Tucked away his words, his vow, all those promises between them and extended her palm in the air between them.

She summoned the magic-the drop of water her mother's bloodline had given her.

Mab's bloodline.

A tiny ball of water took form in her hand. Over the calluses she'd so carefully rebuilt.

She let the gentle, cooling power trickle over her. Let it smooth the jagged bits inside herself and sing them to sleep. Her mother's gift.

You do not yield.

When the Lock took everything, would it claim this part as well? This most precious part of her power? She tucked away those thoughts, too.

Concentrating, gritting her teeth, Aelin commanded the ball of water to rotate in her palm.

A wobble was all she got in answer.

She snorted. "Faerie Queen of the West indeed."

Rowan huffed a quiet laugh. "Keep practicing. In a thousand years, you might actually be able to do something with it."

She whacked his arm, the droplet of water soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. "It's a wonder I learned anything from you with that sort of encouragement." She shook the wetness from her hand. Right into his face.

Rowan nipped at her nose. "I do keep a tally, Princess. Of all the horrible things that come out of your mouth."

Her toes curled, and she dragged her fingers through his hair, luxuriating in the silken strands. "How shall I pay for this one?"

On the other side of the door, she could have sworn that cat-soft feet quickly padded away.

People gawked in the halls, some whispering as they passed.

The queen and her consort. Where do you think they've been these past few days?

I heard they went into the mountains and brought the wild men back with them.

I heard they've been weaving spells around the city, to protect it against Morath.

Rowan was still smirking when Aelin emerged from the communal ladies' bathing room.

"See?" She fell into step beside him as they aimed not for their room and ravishment, but for the hallway where food had been laid out.

"You're starting to like the notoriety."

Rowan arched a brow. "You think that everywhere I've gone for the past three hundred years, whispers haven't followed me?" She rolled her eyes, but he chuckled. "This is far better than Cold-hearted bastard or I heard he killed someone with a table leg."

"You did kill someone with a table leg." Rowan's smirk grew.

"And you are a cold-hearted bastard," she threw in.

Rowan snorted. "I never said those whispers were lies."

Aelin looped her arm through his. "I'm going to start a rumor about you, then. Something truly grotesque."

He groaned. "I dread the thought of what you might come up with."

She adopted a harsh whisper as they passed a group of human soldiers. "You flew back onto the battlefield to peck out the eyes of our enemies?" Her gasp echoed off the rock. "And ate those eyes?"

One of the soldiers tripped, the others whipping their heads to them. Rowan pinched her shoulder. "Thank you for that."

She inclined her head. "You're very welcome."

Aelin kept smiling as they found food and ate a quick lunch-it was midday, they'd learned-sitting side by side in a dusty, half-forgotten stairwell. Much like the days they'd spent in Mistward, knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen while listening to Emrys's stories.

Though unlike those months this spring, when Aelin set down her plate between her feet, she slid her arms around Rowan's neck and his mouth instantly met hers.

No, it was certainly not at all like their time at Mistward as she crawled into Rowan's lap, not entirely caring that anyone might stride up or down the stairs, and kissed him silly.

They halted, breathless and wild-eyed, before she could decide that it really wouldn't be a bad idea…

… If Aelin was being honest with herself, she was still debating hauling him into the nearest closet when they set off to find their companions at last. One glance at Rowan's glazed eyes and she knew he was debating the same.

Yet even the desire heating her blood cooled when they entered the ancient study near the top of the keep and beheld the gathered group. Fenrys and Gavriel were already there, Chaol with them, no sign of Elide or Lorcan.

But Chaol's father, unfortunately, was present. And glowered as they entered the meeting that seemed well under way. Aelin gave him a mocking smile and sauntered up to the large desk.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood with Nesryn, Sartaq, and Hasar, handsome and brimming with a sort of impatient energy. His brown eyes were welcoming, his smile easy.

She liked him immediately.

"My brother," Hasar said, waving a hand without looking up from the map. "Kashin." The prince sketched a graceful bow.

Aelin offered one back, Rowan doing the same. "An honor," Aelin said. "Thank you for coming."

"You can actually thank my father for that. And Yrene," said Kashin, his use of their language as flawless as his siblings'.

Indeed, Aelin had much to thank the healer for.

Nesryn's sharp eyes scanned Aelin from head to toe. "You're feeling all right?"

"Just needed to rest." Aelin jerked her chin at Rowan. "He requires frequent naps in his old age."

Sartaq coughed, keeping his head down as he continued studying the map.

Fenrys, however, laughed. "Back to your good spirits, I see."

Aelin smirked at Chaol's straight-backed father. "We'll see how long it lasts."

The man said nothing.

Rowan motioned to the desk and asked the royals, "Have you decided-where you shall march now?"

Such a casual, calm question. As if the fate of Terrasen did not rest upon it.

Hasar opened her mouth, but Sartaq cut her off. "North. We shall indeed go north with you. If only to repay you for saving our army-our people."

Aelin tried not to look too relieved.

"Gratitude aside," Hasar said, not sounding very grateful at all, "Kashin's scouts have confirmed that Terrasen is where Morath is concentrating its efforts. So it is there that we shall go."

Aelin wished she had not eaten such a large lunch. "How bad is it?"

Nesryn shook her head, answering for Prince Kashin, "The details were murky. All we know is that hordes were spotted marching northward, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake."

Aelin kept her fists at her sides, avoiding the urge to rub at her face.

Chaol's father said, "I hope that power of yours can be summoned again."

Aelin let an ember of that power smolder in her eyes. "Thank you for the armor," she crooned.

"Consider it an early coronation gift," the Lord of Anielle countered with a mocking smile.

Sartaq cleared his throat. "If you and your companions are recovered, then we'll press northward as soon as we are able." No objections from Hasar at that.

"And march along the mountains?" Rowan asked, scanning the map. Aelin traced the route they'd follow. "We'd have to pass directly before the Ferian Gap. We'll barely clear the other end of this lake before we're in another battle."

"So we draw them out," Hasar said. "Trick them into emptying whatever forces wait in the Gap, then sneak up on them from behind."

"Adarlan controls the entire Avery," Chaol said, drawing an invisible line inland from Rifthold. "To pass north, we have to cross that river anyway. In picking the Gap as our battleground, we'll avoid the mess that would come with fighting in the midst of Oakwald. The ruks, at least, would be able to provide aerial coverage. Not so with the trees."

Rowan nodded. "We'd need to march the majority of the host up into the mountains, then—to come at the Gap from where they'd least expect it. It's rough terrain, though. We'll need to pick our route carefully."

Chaol's father grumbled. Aelin lifted her brows, but his son answered, "I sent out emissaries the day after the battle-into the Fangs. To contact the wild men who live there, if they might know of secret ways through the mountains to the Gap."

Ancient enemies of this city. "And?"

"They do. But at a cost."

"One that shall not be paid," the Lord of Anielle snapped.

"Let me guess: territory," Aelin said.

Chaol nodded. Hence the tension in this room.

She tapped a toot as she surveyed the Lord of Anielle. "And you won't give one sliver of land to them?"

He just glared.

"Apparently not," Fenrys muttered

Aelin shrugged, and turned to Chaol. "Well, it's settled, then."

"What is settled?" his father ground out.

Aelin ignored him, and winked at her friend. "You're the Hand to the King of Adarlan. You outrank him. You're authorized to act on Dorian's behalf." She gestured to the map. "The land might be a part of Anielle, but it belongs to Adarlan. Go ahead and barter it."

His father started. "You—"

"We are going north," Aelin said. "You will not stand in our way." She again let some of her fire kindle in her eyes, set the gold in them burning. "I halted that wave. Consider this alliance with the wild men a way to repay the favor."

"That wave destroyed half my city," the man snarled.

Fenrys let out a low, disbelieving laugh. Rowan snarled softly.

Chaol growled at his father, "You're bastard."

"Watch your tongue, boy."

Aelin nodded sympathetically to Chaol. "I see why you left."

Chaol, to his credit, winced and returned to the map. "If we can get past the Ferian Gap, then we continue northward."

Past Endovier. That path would take them right past Endovier. Aelin's stomach tightened. Rowan's hand grazed her own.

"We have to decide soon," Sartaq declared.

"Right now, we sit between the Ferian Gap and Morath. It would be very easy for Erawan to send hosts to crush us between them."

Hasar turned to Chaol. "Is Yrene anywhere near done?"

He leaned an elbow against the arm of his wheeled chair. "Even with the few survivors, there are too many of them. We'd be here weeks."

"How many injured?" Rowan asked.

Chaol shook his head. "Not injured." His jaw tightened. "Valg."

Aelin frowned. "Yrene's healing the Valg?"

Hasar grinned. "In a manner of speaking."

Aelin waved her off. "Can I see?"

They found Yrene not in the keep, but in a tent on the remnants of the battlefield, leaning over a human man thrashing upon a cot. The man had been restrained to anchors in the floor at his wrists and ankles.

Aelin took one look at those chains and had to swallow.

Rowan laid a hand on her lower back, and Fenrys stepped closer to her side.

Yrene paused, her hands wreathed in white light. Borte, sword out, lingered nearby.

"Is something wrong?" Yrene asked, the glow in her hands fading. The man sagged, going boneless as the healer's assault on the demon inside him halted.

Chaol steered his chair closer to her, the wheels equipped for rougher terrain. "Aelin and her companions want a demonstration. If you're up for it."

Yrene smoothed back the hair that had escaped her braid. "It's not really anything that you can see. What happens is beneath the skin—mind to mind."

"You go up against Valg demons directly," Fenrys said with no small amount of awe.

"They're hateful, cowardly wretches." Yrene crossed her arms and scowled at the man tied to the cot. "Utterly pathetic," she spat toward him—the demon inside him.

The man hissed. Yrene only smiled. The man—the demon-whimpered.

Aelin blinked, unsure whether to laugh or fall to her knees. "Show me. Do whatever it is you do, but show me."

Borte said, "It's not very exciting with them tied down, is it?"

Sartaq threw her an exasperated glare. As if this were a conversation they'd already had many times. "You can be on mucking duty, if you'd prefer."

Borte rolled her eyes, but turned to Aelin, looking her over with a frankness that Aelin could only appreciate. "Any other missions for me?"

Aelin grinned. "Not yet. Soon, perhaps." Borte grinned right back. "Please. Please spare me from the tedium of this."

"And you believe them?" Fenrys asked.

Hasar patted the hilt of her fine sword. "Our interrogators are skilled at retrieving the truth."

Aelin ignored the roiling in her stomach.

"So you free them," Gavriel said, silent for minutes now, "and then torture them?"

"This is war," Hasar said simply. "We leave them able to function. But we will not risk sparing their lives only to find a new army at our backs."

"Some willingly joined Erawan," Chaol said quietly. "Some willingly took the ring. Yrene can tell, when she's in there, who wanted it or not. She doesn't bother to save those who gladly knelt. So most of those she does save were either fools or taken forcibly."

"Some want to fight for us," Sartaq said.

"Those who pass our vetting process are allowed to begin training with the foot soldiers. Not many of them, but a few." Fine. Fine, and fine.

Yrene gasped, her light flaring bright enough that Aelin squinted.

Yrene slumped back, Chaol shooting out an arm to brace her. The healer only took a perch on the arm of his chair, a hand on her heaving chest.

Aelin gave her a moment to catch her breath. To manage such a feat was remarkable. To do it while pregnant ... Aelin shook her head in wonder.

Yrene said to no one in particular, "That demon didn't want to go."

"But it's gone now?" Aelin asked

Yene pointed to the man on the cot, now opening his eyes. Brown, not black, gazed upward.

"Thank you," was all the man said, his voice raw.

And human. Utterly human.

[scarlettcryptid]

just came home after being at the ER for 7 hours and all they did was tell me what i already knew (that i have lower abdominal pain and if i get nausea, chills, or lower back pain i should return. i had that all day, even when they discharged me)

[thecherrygod]

/

[szkicel]

Ok i’m scheduling some art I’ve done in the past while I work on new things and I remembered that Queen Bee (from h/lluva b/ss) redesign I did a year ago when a lot of ppl were doing it and it’s probably time to post it before it gets too old…

man, I am NOT excited for all the harassment I’m gonna endure from the unhinged HB fans, but hopefully I’m too small of an artist to get noticed so maybe i’ll be fine