#writing all this with tears still drying on my face. coping.

[andaniellight]

SO FASCINATING that the detective has been carrying his own light from the very start, which means he's been fated or chosen by the (in-between) afterlife to be the next guardian so the one who's been guiding him to the light shop can finally cross over

[avocado-writing]

Hey there, if you’re still doing requests for BG3... I'm terribly angry about something big and outside of my control at the moment. Could you let me know what you'd think the BG3 companions do if Tav started self destructing? Like Tav passing harsher judgments, snapping at neutral NPCs, or fighting more dangerously and recklessly with bad guys?

Oooo the angst possibilities! Fun! Going to write like you’re self destructing due to stress, and you’re picking unhealthy coping mechanisms. Here we go:

Astarion

at first probably thinks that it’s quite funny. We know he enjoys seeing a little bit of suffering.

but, the more it goes on, the more worried you can see him become.

this isn’t like you. He knows you by now. You’re… kinder than this, damn it.

he takes you to the side one day after he’s seen you be short with a friend.

“whats the matter?” “Nothing, Astarion.” “If you’re going to lie to me, darling, you’d better do a better job of it than that.”

you go to snap at him, fire on your tongue, and then something inside you breaks. You just start sobbing. Everything which has been weighing on your mind has finally become too much.

he isn’t good at comforting words, but he does hold you. Runs his hand up and down your back, and lets you know you he’s here for you whenever you’re ready to speak.

helps you centre yourself again, eventually. He loves you. He’ll do what he can to make things better.

Gale

Makes a couple of snide remarks about how you’re acting, suggesting maybe you be a bit kinder, but then he stops to reassess how you’re acting.

there’s something wrong. You’re pent up. Furious, but not with the people you talk to. They just happen to be the ones bearing the brunt of it.

he sees the injuries you nurse on yourself after battles too. You used to be a clever fighter. Now you are a reckless one.

takes you aside one night at camp and presents his findings very matter-of-factly, concluding that there must be something the matter. When he puts it so astutely, you know you have no chance of hiding from him.

tears slip down your face and he is there in an instant drying your eyes. Telling you there’s nothing to worry about. Reassuring you that “the great Gale of Waterdeep is on your side, we’ll find a way to work things out.”

he puffs his chest out, you chuckle and bury your face in the crook of his neck. Yes. You will find a way to work things out.

Wyll

When he first sees you acting out, as it were, he immediately intervenes.

he knows what it’s like to be under great levels of stress. He made his contact when he was a teenager, after all, and had to deal with all the fallout that happened consequently.

he takes you to the side, holds your hand tightly in his, gets you to look at him.

“i love you, you know that, yes? If there’s something the matter, you need only tell me.”

you begin to crack immediately. Damn this sweet man and his emotional intelligence. Why is he perfect.

you let him know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. You agree you’re not coping with it very well. He says he’ll help you however he can, but you need to stop being so unkind to yourself.

“you matter, my love. You deserve sweetness.”

holds you close, and you just stand there for a while, together. From then on whenever something is wrong, he is the first one you go to.

Karlach

Sees you snapping at a friend, jumps in.

“whoa, whoa, whoa! Soldier, where is all this coming from?”

you snap to tell her it’s none of her business, she wouldn’t understand… but then you see the hurt in her eyes and immediately feel awful.

“Oh gods, Karlach, I’m sorry…” your voice is wobbly, cracking a bit, and she cups your face in her warm hands.

“hey, hey. it’s okay. Tell me what’s going on.”

you blurt out all your feelings to her in one, long, run-on sentence. She can’t help with a lot of the personal stuff, but she can listen, and she holds you to her chest and rocks you a little. Being engulfed by her embrace is very comforting.

”I’ve got you, babe, eh?” You know she does. For better or for worse.

Lae’zel

She sees the vicious way that you’ve been acting in battle. Strange, usually it’s her attempting to take the big hit, not you. She can take it, you can’t.

She finds you when you’re tending to your battle wounds. Sits down. Stares at you until you instigate conversation.

“what?” “You are not acting like yourself.” “Oh? And how would you know what that is?”

you’re just saying these things to be hurtful, but she’s stalwart. You’re deflecting.

She tells you she’s been enamoured with you long enough to see how you usually are. That you’re kinder, smarter. You’re lapsing into these feelings out of some sort of self-preservation, but you don’t need to.

”if there is something weighing on your mind, share it. I am here to help ease your burdens.”

you don’t love to cry in front of her but that is remarkably… sweet. It breaks you a bit.

You promise to stop being so foolhardy, especially in battle. She says that must be for the best, lest you get rended in half.

“Hey!” but she’s smiling. Your heart swells as you realise she’s trying to make you laugh.

Shadowheart

Lets you get quite far down the burrow of self-destruction before she does anything.

once again, she’s loyal to the lady of loss. Nothing you’re doing is exactly alarming to her.

but it does get worse and worse… she sees you snapping at friends, being harsher to passers-by, and she’s constantly having to patch you up after battle due to your wounds.

eventually one day you snap at her, and that’s her limit.

“I know something’s causing you stress but it isn’t me. I’m trying to help. So you can either pull your head out of your arse or I’m leaving this tent.”

the two of you have a little squabble, but it quickly becomes obvious your heart isn’t in it. Your anger turns to sadness. You collapse in tears and she pulls you to her without a second thought, holding you close.

despite her sharran devotion, she starts whispering how things can get better, how they will change. How the first step is letting people in.

her hand wound throbs as she comforts you. But in this moment she knows she’d pick you every time.

things are easier from then on, knowing she is with you.

[toldthatdevil]

Can I pretty please request a mommy Natasha where her little wakes up in the middle of the night hungry and milk time ensues??? thank you <3

Midnight Milkies | Mommy!Natasha Romanoff x Little!Reader

pairings: mommy!natasha romanoff x little!reader

warnings: age regression

content: breastfeeding, nightime w/ mommy, fluff, soft moments.

a/n: thank you for your request nonny, i loved writing this one. I hope you enjoy it <3

You woke up too early. Your mommy hadn’t come to get you yet and it was still way too dark outside to be close to morning. You didn’t know how long you had tried closing your eyes to go back to sleep but there was a growling coming from your belly which was too much; you were too hungry to be able to fall back asleep now.

You felt the frustration bring tears to your eyes as you whined, kicking your feet, your blankets being shoved to the bottom of the crib before crying out. 

The sound of your cries through the baby monitor next to Natasha’s bed woke her immediately. She glanced at the clock, 4:33 am. Sliding out of bed, she made her way to your nursery, opening the door to find you crying your little heart out. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” she whispered, picking you up gently and hugging you close. Natasha bounced you around the room, rubbing soothing circles on your back to help you calm down.

Noticing your cries dying down she asked you what was wrong.

You swallowed and wiped your face on her hoodie, “hungry mommy,” 

Natasha could see your bottom lip jutting out, your big doe eyes looking up at her with tear track marks still on your face. You were just the cutest little thing, and Natasha could hardly cope looking at you.

“Aw, does my little baby need some milk?”

You nodded into her shoulder.  With that, Natasha made her way to the corner of the room, sitting herself down in the rocking chair and laying you sideways across her lap.

Waiting patiently for Natasha to adjust herself into a comfortable position you looked up at your mommy, admiring how pretty she was, butterflies forming in your belly. As if your pupils weren’t dilated enough from the site of her, the site of her breasts when she lifted up one side of her dark green hoodie just about blew your pupils. She guided you to her perked nipples, already feeling a slight chill in the air. You immediately latched on sucking harshly, causing her to wince.

You couldn’t help it, she tasted too good. Her milk was the sweetest thing you’d ever had, and you were hungry for it.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m not going anywhere,” She reminded you, making you ease up a little.

Natasha’s head fell back onto the chair as she rocked with you. There was no better feeling than spending this time with you, and have you drain her of all her milk.

She watched as you suckled, stroking your pretty face and wiping up the droplets of milk that spilled over your cheeks every now and then. 

Closing her eyes as she rocked you Natasha didn’t know who was going to fall asleep first. This time together was something you both needed and she would never say no to when you needed her or her milk. 

She opened her eyes when she felt your suckles slow, thinking you had nodded off only to be met with a frown on your face.

“More mommy,” you pleaded.

Natasha chuckled, you really were hungry tonight. You had drained her left boob faster than she thought whilst still needing more of her. She twisted you around to lie on your other side.

Not even waiting for her to settle this time, you helped yourself, lifting the fabric of her hoodie to find her other breast. 

Latching on, you began to suckle again. Natasha was determined to get you off to sleep this time around. She was slightly worried she was going to have to heat up some of her frozen breastmilk for you if you were awake much longer, sucking her dry. She rubbed circles on your back, knowing this helped sooth you before standing up, you safely wrapped in her arms. You were unfazed, happily drinking her milk and enjoying the attention. 

Natasha walked around the room, patting your bum this time and humming a soft tune, singing some of the lyrics every now and then, “Drove my chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.”

Before long your eyelids grew heavy, and you were snoring softly, Natasha’s nipple half in your open mouth. 

“And them good old boys were drinking whiskey ’n rye”

Your mommy slowly lowered you back into your crib, pulling your blankets over your little body and placing your stuffy next to you. She gave you a lingering kiss on your cheek before closing your nursery door and heading back to bed.

“Singing’, “This’ll be the day that I die,” 

---

a/n: i totally didn't mean for the lyrics to end how they did but we are just gonna ignore that.

[fckeddiemunson]

Wrestle | Elwood Dalton

Summary: Dalton teaches you how to wrestle on the beach

Note: This isn't exactly how I pictured it in my head and I couldn't get it right - it also took me ages to write because I wasnt happy with it and I still dont think its my best work but please enjoy😊

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, creampie, public sex, unprotected sex, MAYBE ooc Dalton a little

From the day Elwood Dalton showed up in Glass Key, you were intrigued. You had never heard that name before but from the minute he stepped foot in the Road House, rumours begun simmering. Being a bartender meant you were near Dalton at most times when it was a quieter night. You watched him mostly from afar at first. Serving him coffee with only a shy smile shared between the two of you. Billy had told you that he used to be a fighter, one of the best. A local patron had told you he was disgraced from the sport for killing a guy. Another time you heard he was unhinged, really got some few screws loose, especially if you got on his bad side. Sure, he stopped all the bar fights from breaking out, but you couldn’t believe that he was insane.

He had started teaching Billy and the other guys how to fight and wrestle, so when he was gone, the Road House would be alright against fights that needed to be broken up. You had been eagerly watching them from a distance each morning before open, pretending to read but you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

You had asked Billy if he would teach you how to wrestle once Dalton was gone, you were too nervous to ask him yourself. You barely got the chance to talk to him, most nights were busy in the bar, and he was rather occupied with stopping fights. Your stolen glances were no stranger to him, he had often caught you staring, and it made you even more nervous to ask him to teach you to wrestle.

You had your back turned, leaning up against a pole as you dried cutlery. It was a quiet night and you were filling your shift with menial tasks. Dalton had crept up behind you, his breath fanning your ear, “Slow night, huh?”. You jumped, back colliding with his front and dropping the fork you were drying.

“You gave me a fright.” You mumbled, bending down to grab the fork and turning to look at him. He had a silly little smirk on his face, stepping back a little seeing you tense with him so close.

“Sorry honey, just trying to amuse myself. Theres not much else going on right now.”

“There must be more interesting things than scaring me.” You huffed but it turned into a grin when you met his eyes.

“Not really, you’re kind of the only interesting one here.” You blushed; despite knowing he didn’t mean it.

“Nah, you broke someone’s arm your first day. It’s hard to top that.” He shrugged and laughed; his big toothy grin was intoxicating to look at.

“So, you want to learn how to wrestle?” Dalton asked you, now leaning against the same pole as you, his crossed arms brushing against yours.

“Oh. Yeah, I do for self-defense if I needed it. I was just going to get Billy to teach me.” You rubbed your arms sheepishly.

“Yeah, he told me. He thinks it’d be better if I taught you.” You were going to kill Billy. There was no way you’d be able to cope having Dalton teach you how to wrestle.

“Umm, I mean if you’re sure you have the time.” Drawing out the ‘umm’ you felt his eyes piercing into you.

“Of course. Meet me outside my boat tomorrow at dawn. And don’t wear any loose clothing, don’t want anything your opponent can pull on.” You nodded as he walked away, secretly excited.

*

The next morning you stood outside his boat, waiting. It was quiet, only the soft sound of the waves sloshing filling the peace. Listening to Daltons advice, you had turned up in a sports bra and tiny little shorts. The door of the boat slammed open, Dalton stood there shirtless, also only in little shorts. Trying to tear your eyes away from his bare chest proved difficult and you could feel his eyes watching yours. A blush formed on your cheeks as you waved a hello to him.

“Alright so I’m going to basically tackle you first and show you where to put your hands and then you’re going to attempt to wrestle me down.” You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat with him coming so close.

“The easiest way to get somebody to the ground is a leg takedown. You basically grab onto one leg and throw yourself to the ground.” Dalton knelt down beside you, patting your thigh.

“I’ll do it real slow ok, honey?” You breathed out a sigh as Dalton stood up and took a step back.

“Ok so you’re going to dive at me, latch onto my leg, like this.” Daltons strong arms wrapped around your thigh and lurched forward. Your head landed on the sand, a dull throb travelled down your stomach as Dalton landed, half his body on yours, his arms still draped over your thigh.

“Oh well you made that look easy. Billy said you go super hard on him.” You pushed yourself up, readying yourself for another go.

“I can’t go too hard on you sweetheart, you’d break.” Dalton hovered over you, his voice sounding amused.

“Are you and Billy seeing each other?” You perked up at the question, a curious look in his eye.

“No, I’m not, just mates.” You narrowed your eyes up at him, but he shrugged, stepping back to show you another move.

“Okay, I want you to try that move on me.” He chuckled, seeing the look of hesitancy across your face. You readied yourself, crouching down and putting your hands out in front of you. Giving yourself a little runup you grabbed his leg and tackled him to the ground. You landed with a soft ‘oof’, arms like an iron grip on his thigh. He lifted his leg up, your grip faltered, you landed on his abs, leg thrown over the thigh you were gripping.

A playful smirk delighted his lips as you placed your hands on his chest, pushing yourself up, sitting on his thigh. You smiled, excited to have put him on the ground.

“See, you can go rougher with me.” You cheekily retorted to him, sticking out your tongue. Dalton’s eyes rolled, suddenly thrusting his hips upward, in one maneuver, throwing you off and pinning you to the ground, your hands above your head and his leg snug between yours, keeping you in place.

You gasped and struggled in his grasp, his knee nudging the softest parts of your thighs.

“See you’re fucked if someone gets you in this position. Go on, get out of it.” Dalton was speaking but your head was empty. You couldn’t focus on anything besides the feeling of him against your body. You were scared to move in case you accidentally grinded yourself on his leg. Dalton searched your eyes, trying to see if you heard him or not. He noticed the way your breath tightened and the way your stomach muscles clenched with him so close.

“Unless this is something you like? Being pinned down like this.” Dalton’s knee inched further up and you dug your heels in the sand, an overwhelming sense of embarrassment settling upon you. You thrusted back, throwing him off balance and kicking your leg over, kneeing him in the side. You lurched up, now pinning him to the ground, straddling him and holding one wrist each in your hands. His face inches from yours, he was letting you pin him there.

“Maybe you’re the one who likes to be pinned down?” Your voice was breathy and heavy, feeling Daltons eyes fixed on your chest you coughed, his eyes flung up to meet yours. For once it was him being caught staring and not you. In a rush of confidence, or madness, you let his wrist go and let your fingers run through his hair. A moment passed; you could feel your heartbeat in your chest thumping loudly. Daltons free hand slid up yours and pulled you down by your neck, your noses now bumping each other. Daltons other hand broke free of your grasp, cupping your face. His lips connected with yours, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulled you closer to him. He pulled a strangled sound from you feeling his hips roll against yours. A delicious feeling began to spread as you kissed him again, he nibbled at your bottom lip, his hands settling on your hips, kneading and squeezing. The lust in your eyes was palpable when you looked at him again, he couldn’t stop smirking at you. You grasped his hair, his teeth grazing at your neck, making his way down your sternum, to your stomach, nipping and sucking as he went. His fingers hooked delicately under your shorts, pulling them down and throwing them down the beach. The cool sand hit your butt, and you gasped, rolling your hips upwards. Dalton placed a kiss on your hip bone, sending chills through your body. His arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you closer and nuzzled his face in your thighs.

“Are you sure you want to do this right here in the open?” your face flushed at the prospect; his eyes met yours from between your thighs.

“We’re secluded here, nobody can see us.” You nodded and moaned, feeling him move your underwear to the side and pressing a hot kiss to your exposed cunt. His grip tightened on your thighs, licking a wet stripe into your pussy. You fisted the sand, a string of breathy moans leaving your mouth as he continued licking and sucking, sending shockwaves through you. You could feel yourself practically dripping onto the sand for him. Daltons eyes met yours as his middle and ring finger slipping inside you, immediately tugging upwards. Dalton groaned against you once he felt how wet you were for him, his hard crotch, grinding against the sand.

“You’re so wet.” Dalton whispered, his fingers picking up the pace, your heels dug in the ground, trying to bring yourself back to earth, you felt like you might float away.

“I need you, please.” You rolled your hips again, shuddering underneath the pleasure he was giving you. Dalton held you flush against him as he kissed back up your stomach, his hand brushed over your hardened nipple in your sports bra and pinched. You keened against him, nudging him up towards your mouth with your knees. He kissed you eagerly, right hand still kneading your boob and the other gripping firmly on your thigh, spreading you for him.

“You know I wanted to take you out to dinner, or lunch – anything. Thought you’d say no though, you’ve been a quiet little mouse. But now look at you, all spread out waiting for my cock.” Dalton slid your underwear to the side, leaving your pussy exposed as he pulled down his shorts. His fat cock slapped against your clit and you mewled at the feeling.

“I would have said yes if you asked me.” You whispered, feeling your cheeks warm, barely looking into his eyes. Dalton ran the tip of his dick over your wet pussy and chuckled.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re mine now.” He grinned but it fell away as he pushed his cock into you. You breathed heavily when he bottomed out, the pinch and stretch overwhelming.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll go real slow.” He smirked, mimicking his line from earlier. Dalton pulled out slightly and pushed back in agonizingly slowly. You let out a low quiet moan, adjusting to the feeling. Dalton hugged your thighs and lifted your legs up flush with his chest. His slow thrusts deepened at the new angle, his cock perfectly hitting that soft spot inside of you. All you could do was close your eyes and roll with his deep rhythm. He wrapped his arms around both your legs, his pace quickening. Your little moans turned loud breathless as his hips pounded into you. He wrapped his hands around your legs, completely locking you to his chest and raising your ass off the sand in the process. You all but dangled there as he hit the same deep spot in you over and over again. A warm flame was forming in your stomach, an explosion threatening to burst at any moment. Daltons pace did not relent and you moaned, grabbing fistfults of sand again, needing something to grab onto.

“I can feel you getting closer, honey.” His molten voice filled your ears and you nodded, too flushed and fucked out to speak.  Dalton’s pace slowed, his hips now rolling deep and slow against yours as he released your legs and pushed them against your chest. His thumb lazily stroked your clit, his thrusts doing most of the work moving you back and forth over it. You came suddenly with a gasp, waves of pleasure rolling through you. You tried to smack Dalton’s hand away, but he kept stroking your clit, turning your moans to breathless pleas as he fucked you into overstimulation.

“Where can I finish?” Daltons groans were louder now, his pace rapid and erratic as he neared his end.

“Inside me.” You whined and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him to your chest. His moans muffled in your neck as he came, hips stilling in a final thrust, pushing himself all the way in. He pulled out, watching as his seed spilled out of you and grinned.

“Would you like to have breakfast with me?”

[https-lvesick]

now playing: 200 - minhyung's version by mark

summary ・ after losing the people he loved the most, mark could never move on... but is it really that bad when you return? ��ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤgenre ・ angst (that's the first idea that came out when i was listening to this fucking song, thanks mark) ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤcontent ・ grieve, character death, spiderverse is mentioned (and used), silk!reader again because i love her! lowkey toxic at the end but... uh... yeah... ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤwc ・ 1980

[notes] i may be a bit uh... invested in spidermark, i admit it. this idea came out when i was listening to the mentioned song lol and whenever you guys see a post "now playing" keep in mind that the fic was plotted because of the song! ngl i literally sobbed real hard while writing the first two paragraphs... i guess i was a bit overwhelmed...

and there he was again. sitting on top of a building, doing your favourite activity together, looking at the moon. his mask was discarded beside bim, his phone in hands, earbuds paired and the song he wrote for you was playing on repeat while he watched some videos of you.

if only he had been faster. you would be there too, with him. now he has no one for him. he wasn't capable of saving the people he loved the most so why is the city still counting on him? why was he doing all of this when, out of all people in the country, he couldn't save only two...

"baby, look! aren't they the cutest?" you point to a pet café, where three cats could be seen by the window.

"they surely are! oh look, they're greeting you!" his voice is joyful. the soft and lovely tone and the sparkling eyes whenever he looked at you or even thought about you were undeniable signs of his love and adoration for you.

"can we have one when we move in together?" you asked, looking at him over the phone. and who was him to deny when you looked so adorable like that?

"we surely can, love." he giggles. It was one of his many memories with you, but this one is where you mentioned moving in with him. a tear dropped at the screen, wetting the phone and suddenly, there was mark again, sobbing.

you finally graduated from high school and were going to attend the same university, so why not move in together? you've spent years together, attached to the hip, in a joyful friendship, which later evolved into a romantic relationship and you couldn't been happier. mark and you were sure you could handle each other's weird habits and were ready for that. let's be honest, you've seen each other at its worst multiple times, and nothing could make your relationship weird.

that time... when he stupidly let you go... you were excited. talking about new cute decorations you found on a website and cat's products for the new addition to your and mark's family.

but that fucking scumbag needed to target you. he needed to take you from him...

every single day mark still reminisced in that moment. he couldn't think of anything other than you. you were his first thought in the morning when he woke up and the last when he was going to sleep. he tried to focus on the good parts. when he had you. but it was hard not to remember he was the one to blame for your loss. after all, he was your superhero. your spideyboy.

his heart clenched again and, by that time, his face was completely drenched in tears. he couldn't stop thinking about you. and this was making him sicker and sicker every day.

the gadget on his suit blinked, announcing a new mission for spiderman. and that was the one thing keeping mark alive. he was trying to compensate for his loss by overworking himself.

"imma make it for you, my love..." he mumbled to himself, drying, uselessly, his face, before standing up.

honestly, mark didn't know how he ended up in this situation. suddenly the city was full of spiders, which he didn't even know that could exist.

"so wait... uh... you're... me... but from another universe?" he tried to cope, he was, really hard, but... how did that happen?

"not you, i'm me, but yeah..." the other spider said. "and there's someone else, silk. as soon as she found out about it, she was willing to help us." he smiled.

"yeah! she travels through the multiverse a lot!" the blonde girl said, swinging her legs.

"but she's a bit late, i see..." the spider who seemed the oldest, spoke, grumpy as always. mark had already noticed it...

they were discussing loudly and mark's head was spinning. when, in a million years, he could guess there were other spiders? and that there was a multiverse. and that he could travel through it whenever he wanted.

suddenly an orange portal appeared and another spider could be seen coming. another woman.

"sorry guys, i was... busy..." she reasoned, wiping off some blood on staining her suit.

as soon as she spoke, mark felt a pang in his heart because why is her voice so identical to yours? and your body proportions? yeah, he was really confused.

but, when the named silk, took off the part of her suit that was hiding half of her face, mark's blood drained. his face was terrified and the blonde girl named gwen noticed it.

"hey... you fine?" she asked, tapping his shoulder.

the spider version of you approached him with concern in your eyes. "uh... mark, right? what's wrong?"

everything was wrong! it was you! his love, his girlfriend. the woman he'd burn the world for if this meant to keep you safe. you were alive? and a spider in another universe? what the fuck was going on?

"y-yeah... i just... need some air..." he quickly grabbed his mask and put it on.

"we literally on top of a building..." the other spider named mark mumbled, watching the guy jump off, swinging on his webs.

it was kinda comic the amount of times the spiderman could be spotted up in buildings in random times of the day doing nothing. actually doing the same thing he had been doing for good seven months... thinking.

"great thing you're fine. i thought you were about to pass out." behind him there was your voice. he pressed his eyes together, trying to remember: you were not you. she was not you.

"sorry..." he mumbled. "i was... uh... having a hard time..." he tried to reason. but as soon as you sat beside him, he lost it completely. but how could he cope when she was exactly like you. when she even had the same scent he could never forget.

"you know... that grumpy man out there and me are kind of... responsible for this uh... spiderverse thing. so i kinda feel like we could take care of you. and i'm definitely in charge of gwen, so you can report her behaviour to me if needed." you laugh and mark can feel his heart warming at his favourite sound. "the point is... if you need to talk... i'm here to listen..."

oh and he wants, more than anything. he wants to tell you how much he misses you. how he wants to just leave this life of superhero and maybe kidnap you, so you can live together, far away from this mess of a life. but... it's not you... it's not.

you sighed and smiled, caressing his shoulders before standing up. maybe you got the hint, he didn't want to talk, or maybe he wasn't ready for it.

"i had a girlfriend..." he blurted out and you stopped. even if he wasn't mentally prepared to talk about you again, especially with someone who is a carbon copy of the woman he loved the most, mark knew he needed to. he needed to release this fog of blame that was plaguing his mind and heart ever since the beginning.

you kept your distance, trying to make him as comfortable as possible.

"she was... the girl of my dreams, you know." he smiled, already feeling the tears starting to prick up in his eyes. "did you ever feel like... living in heaven just by having a special person by your side?" he asked and you hummed in response. "that was it... that was what she was for me. my fucking world ever since we met each other when we were only six."

he paused, sighing deeply, wiping some tears off his face. you waltzed towards him slowly, resuming your previous position beside him.

"we were about to move in together. we were gonna attend the same university, so why not? she was so excited, she was thinking of having a cat as our child..." mark smiled lovingly and you couldn't help but do the same. "but then... a fucking bastard, who i thought was my best friend, took her from me. i wasn't... fast enough to catch her while she was falling... i..." he sobbed and you touched his back, trying to comfort him in some way. "it happened seven months ago and i still can't move on. i overwork myself as spiderman, forgetting about my normal life..." he chuckled. "in hopes that i can stop thinking about it for a second, but it's kinda impossible." and for the first time he looked in your eyes.

you could see the pain right in his soul, it's like you could read him like an open book, but there was a hint of pure love. he locked his eyes to yours and frowned, letting more tears fall.

"and it doesn't help the bare fucking minimum that you look exactly like her. from your eyes to your feet, you are her. so why here? why, out of the other many universes out there, it had to be mine?" the pain in his tone made you feel guilty.

you were taken aback by his words. speechless. you averted your gaze from his, but he was still looking at you.

"but you know... i'm kinda relieved now... i can finally feel you here after all. i know you're not her. you're not... mine... but please, let me hug you... that's the only thing i'm asking for now... please..." he mumbled, desperately. she was the one thing that kept him close to you again. he needed it for his life.

without thinking too much you pleaded. the sigh of pure relief he let out made you cry a bit. you could tell he needed it like it was oxygen. like this would make him live again.

mark touched every part of your body, trying to feel everything of you like it was the last time he could do it. your hair, your shoulders, your waist. he buried his face in the crook of your neck so he could smell your scent once again like it was some kind of aphrodisiac.

but then he pulled away from you, cupping your face in his hands, staring directly into your soul before moving his gaze to your lips, licking his own.

his mind was telling "that's not her", but how could he get it when she looks exactly like you? right in front of him once again. it's like... you've never been gone. he had you one more time, he couldn't let you go again...

"mark..." you whispered and he closed his eyes. having you calling his name again had his head spinning. you can't do it to me... please don't... "i'm not her... i don't wanna hurt you or... having you thinking i can replace her..." no one can ever replace her. "but..."

"would you... let me kiss you?" he wasn't thinking straight. she couldn't do it to him. to your memory, but... how could she deny it when he was asking so eagerly? so... passionate. so... needed.

"would it make you feel any better?" you ask, somehow feeling guilty.

"much better..." he mumbled, getting closer.

when your lips touched, you could feel mark melting right away. his body was eager and you could tell it was the best moment ever since... his loss. one of his hands remained on your cheek, caressing lovingly, while the other flew to your waist.

it was wrong. he couldn't be doing it. she wasn't you. but how could he do the right thing? was there even wrong or right? his mind kept on telling him one thing, but his heart was so happy to have you back. it wouldn't hurt any more to have a little piece of you again. even if you could never return to his life...

[herofics]

Hi. How are you?

I've feel really suicidal lately so i wanted to ask some angst/confort of dadzawa, please.

His daughter attempts to take her life and he arrives home from patrolling just in time beforw it was too late. And maybe the after math

Thanks, i love your writing, it have really help me to cope in multiple times

A/N: I'm good, thanks for asking :D I’m sorry you’re feeling this way anon, I hope this can help even a little bit. I wanted to write this quickly for you, so I'm posting this already. Thank you for liking my writing, it means a lot to me that I can help people cope.

TW: Suicide attempt and blood

Aizawa was home a couple of hours earlier than usual, because he wanted to surprise you with some of your favorite take-out. He entered the house to find all of the lights off and the house eerily quiet. Had you gone out? You always let him know where you were going, even if he was at work, because he had requested you do so. Aizawa felt like something was wrong, there was this pit in his stomach that just kept growing, the closer he got to the door to your room.

He had turned the kitchen light on when he placed the take-out on the table, but the hallway was still only dimly lit as he walked towards your room. He didn’t see what he was stepping in, but he could feel something soaking his socks as he passed the bathroom door. There was light coming from under the door and he heard the water running. It was odd. As he looked closer, he noticed the water was slightly red. His heart jumped into his throat as he tried the door handle. It was locked. Aizawa didn’t hesitate for a moment as he kicked it down.

That’s where he found you, in the tub, bloody water all around you. He quickly turned off the running water and pulled you out of the tub. There were these deep gashes on both your wrists, that were slowly bleeding you dry. You were clammy and incredibly pale compared to your usual skin tone.

“(Name)!? (Name)?! Please answer me” he begged.

You weren’t moving, and he wasn’t even sure if you were breathing. He pulled his phone out and called for medical assistance, as he held you in his arms. He was trying to put pressure on the wounds on your wrists, to hopefully stem the bleeding. The next four minutes, before the paramedics showed up, were the longest of his life. Watching you slip further and further away was terrifying.

When the paramedics came, Aizawa let them do their job. They lifted you on the gurney and one of them kept working on you as they carted you off to the ambulance. Aizawa got a ride in the back of the ambulance, he was just silently praying you would make it. He didn’t know what he would do if you didn’t. Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children.

When the ambulance got to the nearest hospital, you were quickly taken away, and Aizawa was left standing behind the doors that lead to the trauma center. He walked to the lobby and sat down on one of the chairs, leaning his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands. His hair hung around his face as he stared down at the floor. How could he not have noticed how much pain you were in? How did he not see the signs? Surely he should have noticed. You were his kid, and you’d always been close, so how could he not have seen this coming? He’d been so busy with work lately, both his job as a hero and a teacher. Aizawa blamed himself, who else could he blame?

When you woke up, the first thing you felt was confusion. You looked around, but you felt like you couldn’t focus your eyes. You did notice someone in black clothes and with black hair, snoring away in the armchair next to your hospital bed. You looked at your father and you couldn’t help but tear up. This wasn’t supposed to happen, you didn’t want this to happen, you didn’t want to wake up, so how come you were relieved to still be here? How come, just the sight of your father made you feel so guilty.

Aizawa woke up to sobs coming from your bed. Ironically, it was like music to his ears, to hear your voice again, even if you were crying.

“Good morning angel” Aizawa said, as nonchalantly as he could.

He didn’t want you to think he was angry or disappointed, he just wanted to sound like what he truly felt, heartbroken, scared and confused.

“D-da-dad?” you blubbered.

“I’m here” Aizawa said, taking your hand.

“I’m sosry…” you stumbled over your words, and continued sobbing profusely.

“It’s okay angel, it’s okay” Aizawa attempted to assure you.

You just sobbed for a while as your father held your hand. You didn’t understand how he wasn’t angry, surely he must have been disappointed in you for being weak, for giving up.

“I’m-I’m sorry for being weak, I’m so-sorry for… you know” you sniffled.

“You’re not weak, you were in a lot of pain” Aizawa said sincerely. “I’m sorry for not noticing, I’m your father, I should have been able to tell you were suffering”

“I think you not noticing was kind of the point” you joked dryly.

“Even if you were actively hiding your intentions from me, I should have noticed something. I knew you were in pain, but I had no idea how bad it was” Aizawa sighed, squeezing your hand.

“Can we just not talk about it? It’s not your fault and what’s done is done” you yawned.

“We can not talk about it now, but we’re going to have to talk about this eventually” he emphasized the “now”.

“Yeah, I know…” you sighed. “I’m just tired, I wanna go back to sleep” you lied.

You let go of your dad’s hand and turned your back on him as you laid on the bed. You didn’t want to talk about it, and you didn’t know how to either. How could you explain to someone else how you felt, when you didn’t even know yourself.

“I love you angel, sleep well” Aizawa said, as he leaned back in his chair.

He didn’t want to pressure you, but he wanted to understand. He wanted to know why you would do something like this, but he didn’t know if he would understand, no matter what your explanation. He loved you so much. He remembered the first time he’d held you when you had been born, and the time that had almost been the last, not 24 hours earlier. He would never forget either of those times. The first one filled with such joy and the other with such indescribable fear. No child should die before their parents, and he was just happy you were going to be okay. It was going to be a long road, but you were going to be fine, he knew you were strong, no matter what you thought of yourself. You would keep fighting, and he would be there to help you up when you stumbled. He would walk with you, holding your hand through it all.

[ryomaandgundhamkin]

11/18/24 TW/CW: vent (sort of), mentions of blood, vomit (slightly), mentions of yelling, trauma, blood, et cetera. Thank you.

“My brain works in a weird way. It’s sort of like how celebrities or others online only show their best side. They only reveal the highlights of their life and positive moments, and the audience may look up to them or feel… insignificant, in comparison. After a bit, in my case, my mask can wear down. I play this positive character in this show, and my depressed states are merely my expressions when I am off-stage. And so, I want to find a way to cope with all my stress, my trauma. And until I do, it is broken. I cannot wear it again, or lies will show. I can’t play out-of-character in a live show; the live show being, well, my life. No- I need to find a way to cope. If I don’t, I’ll never forgive. I’ll never forget. I’ll never get over it. All I have sinned for. But. I am scared. What methods do I have where my writing keeps safe? What platform is not going to be tracked by my guardians? No matter where I go, they are there. They are watching. I can’t feel safe online if they are there. I can’t express my true potential if my mom will eventually find my account and brag to her friends over how great I am. Over how… talented I am.”

“I’m crying too much. Emotions flood me as if dams are broken. The water, a growing flood, overcomes my emotions and my rationality. I do not panic, but I am scared. But I must hide my sobs before my father finds me and mentally beats me up about it. ‘It won’t do any good for you’; I can’t help it. If you keep yelling at me, what am I supposed to do? For I have not matured to your liking. I only exceed your standards, and my mother’s standards, in art. Something they seem to never get over. I start overthinking things. I grow anxiety. My head starts to throb and my hands begin to tremble so much. I feel so sick, I might throw up. The idea of multiple tests this week doesn’t help. I sit in the bathroom, silent. If I am caught, I am beat. I am lectured. They will ask me: ‘whats the matter? Why are you so sick?’, as if they are clueless that they are the main cause. I grow weak at the thought of the future, the past, and the present. ‘This could have been worse’; I comfort myself. This isn’t the worst, but it’s not the best. Tears slowly roll down my face at the memory of all the people I have lost. I’m sorry. Everything I’ve done. Every sin I’ve committed to have gotten where I am today. I’m so sorry, everyone. I deserve this. Don’t I? My lack of rationality grows my thoughts to believe in your lies. Am I just in denial? At this point, I’m stuck in here for 3 hours. I’m too scared to leave, but too scared to stay. I close my eyes and hope everything will go away. I hope everything is merely just a dream, I just need to wake up. Wake up, or you will die. Fuck. Why me? I sob silently, watching my volume as I can lightly hear the footsteps of my family emerge from the hallway. I feel so sick.”

“After another hour or so, I leave carefully. It’s midnight. They are all asleep at this point, and I am spared for another day. I immediately retreat to my room in a silent run, which slightly makes the nauseated feeling return. My pace slows as I walk to my bed, flopping down. My hand immediately reaches for my phone, an instinct. I feel something dripping from my mouth, and I carefully run my hand over it. Blood. Or so, I suppose it is. It tastes like it at least, but it’s too dark to tell. I ignore that and change my glance to my phone, going to Tumblr. My hands still tremble and my eyes are dry. The nauseated feeling slips in and out: irritating yet worrying. I scroll, looking at more art. I force a light smile to myself, and my jaw aches. It leaves after a few seconds. ‘Is this my last resort?’; Do I have to do this? This will only cause me more overwork, stress and anxiety. I exit the reblog. I am sorry, but my body still aches with the need for drawing more, making up perfect animation and drawing ideas in my head. This needs to stop. No. Please. This can’t be it. I can’t draw anymore, but my body refuses. My mind races with the thought of all my requests I have not finished, silently apologizing to the users.”

“…I can’t do this anymore.”

“I need to stop. I need to take a break. I can’t continue this continuous cycle of self-torment. If I do, I’ll become depressed. If I do, I’ll distance myself further from my friends.”

-

Thank you all. I appreciate your support and words of encouragement, and I know this may be a bit excessive, but I felt like releasing my emotions into a piece of text, even at the risk my mom may see this. I apologize if I have not finished your art requests. I am not taking a break, and I will continue making art (I’m sure you little shits are gonna be happy about that, huh, you guys who only care about my art). But I will not be as active, for school is still occurring. I have a break for a week next week, so I’ll try and make more art then. I just want you all to be happy, I’m sorry. I know this is a bit of a 180 from how I was earlier, but I gotta cope. My parents are arguing again (fml). XOXO.

[love4agesss]

bleach. george daniel x reader

synopsis: your life is changing rapidly, all good things— yet you’re feeling behind and lost in life. in an effort to cope, you bleach your hair, with the help of your boyfriend george.

word count: 1,488

warnings: angst?-(not really?) general feelings of feeling lost! perhaps a bit self indulgent!

a/n: this is my first published writing! yay! it’s maybe a bit too wordy but I had too much fun. i saw @bayleequits post that there’s a lack of george fics and angst/fluff and i have to agree! so I’m attempting to rectify that:)

anyway! enjoy! <33333

——————————————————————————

You were being unfair. 

Blaming your own ineptness to cope with change on everything around you, including George, was only making matters worse. What made everything far more confusing and complicated was that these changes were all good. You had just taken a new job offer, one that pays far more than your last job and has flexible hours, and you’ve finally moved in with your boyfriend of two years. Things are looking up, yet you’re feeling lower than you have in months.

After a domestic discussion about your now shared finances turned into an avoidable argument; here you are in the bathroom of your shared house with tears drying down your cheeks. You feel emotional, embarrassed of yourself, and guilty— achingly so.

George has done nothing but love you and welcome you into his home, he has done nothing but share in your success and joy with your new job. It isn’t his fault you’re feeling this way; you just feel off, distant, the changes all overwhelming and hitting at once.

Yet, you still feel the same— like you’re standing still as your life keeps moving around you.

You take in your appearance in the mirror across from you, the light bouncing off of the pale gray bathroom walls making it seem unbearably bright. Your eyes are puffy, your cheeks flushed and tear-stained, your hair a mess.

Your hair, the same length it’s been since you first started at the job you just left— 5 years ago; the hair that’s been through two break ups and the beginnings of your time with George. Never really having changed it, you decide that your hair is one of the small things you could do to change yourself, no matter how surface level that difference really is. 

Ducking down and opening a drawer under the sink, you see a box of cheap hair bleach, unopened and likely being saved for George’s next touch up. He’s always been adamant about doing it himself, using a single gloved hand to smother his scalp with bleach. Lacking sleep and the correct parameters to make a sensible decision, you grab the box and begin to open it, all the while attempting to remember where the hair scissors are. 

You’re so engrossed in your own thoughts that you don’t notice George’s head peeking in through the bathroom door, his deep eyes thoughtful as they watch your hands deftly working to inbox the hair kit.

“D’you want some help?” His tone rumbles this softly, not questioning your actions as he allows you to notice his presence. 

All current thoughts and feelings are replaced by love and guilt as he nears you. You want to apologize for your stubbornness and fighting words, yet all you can do is nod wordlessly and hand him the box. George grants you a soft smile, patting the counter of the sink with his palm as he sets the contents of the box on the closed toilet lid. You watch his sure movements as he mixes the contents into the bowl.

“Where d’you want it?” His eyes rove over your features as he speaks, taking in the emotions staining the face he loves so dearly.

You hadn’t thought about it and you don’t want to commit to your whole head, “Just a strip in the front, could look cool,” the smile you shoot him is weak, barely able to be held up by the weight you feel.

George steps closer, your legs widening instinctively to allow him between; his tall, broad build shadowing over you. The silence between you two is achingly tense as he sections off your hair, tucking what is to be untouched by the bleach behind your ear.

Neither of you know how to approach this, as neither of you can put a name to what is so wrong.

His willingness to aid you after you had been so harsh says a lot about who George is as a person, as a partner. Forgiving, comforting, empathetic, and warm. All traits you continually fall in love with; over and over and over.

Pulling a glove over his hand, he holds the strip of your hair, his right hand using the bleach coated brush to slowly apply it. In languid streaks, he coats the desired section. His sharp features are focused as he gnaws at his bottom lip, careful to not brush anything outside of the given parameters. Silently, he clasps the bleach-drenched hair back, starting a timer on his phone to allow for the chemicals to set in.

Slowly but surely, he looks up from his phone, gaze latching onto your own. Tenderly, he reaches a hand out, the pads of his fingers brushing the apple of your cheek before cupping your face in his large, calloused palm. Brows furrowing, creating a crease in the skin between them, George's eyes fill with concern and with words he’s unsure of speaking aloud.

“What’s going on in this head of yours?” He questions softly, his deep rumble of a voice strained with worry.

You feel a jolt in your chest at his feather light touch, reserved for you; only you. “I– ” you pause, still unsure of how to put this into words, you just don’t know, “I don’t know.” It comes out as a weak croak, reverberating in the small bathroom space. 

“Love, there has to be something. You’ve been on edge all week,” he says with concern brushing across his features, his thumb tracing the dried tear streaks on your cheek. “Is it– are you regretting moving in?” George’s tone is marred with worry, his brows furrowing impossibly further, “I never wanted to push you to move too fast with us, I just– ” 

“God, no. Of course not,” you whisper, cutting him off. “It’s just– I– I feel stuck,” you attempt to explain, “Everything around me is changing so rapidly and life is moving on, but I feel the same. Like my mind is unwilling to adjust to any of this.” 

His hand slips from your cheek to rest upon the crook of your neck, his calloused thumb rubbing soothing circles across your collarbone. It’s one of his favorite places to inhabit; with his face, tender kisses, the point of his nose, or the tip of a finger. 

“D’you need to go back to therapy?” George asks gently, almost with an air of hesitance, as he takes the glove off of his left hand. He knows therapy’s not something that anyone necessarily enjoys; though it has potential to help. 

You’re quick to say no, your head shaking weakly.

“The last thing I want to do is feel like I regressed, George. I’m so tired of feeling like I can't get better. I should be over the moon about moving in and getting a new job– and I am, but it’s like everything I knew is gone for good. The only constant is you, and I keep being an asshole,” you groan into your hand, wiping at your irritated eyes. 

“Darling, stop that, please” George pleads softly, his warm palms engulfing your shoulders in a loving attempt to keep you upright, “I can’t say it’s been easy. I know life hasn’t been as of lately, regardless of how good it’s appearing to be.” 

He’s always been an anchor for you, in all aspects of life. Somehow his warm brown eyes soften even further as he looks to you, to your overwhelming feelings that seem to seep out of every aspect of how you exist lately. You’ve been trudging through the past week, hoping your pathetic attempts at getting better will aid you in escaping your feelings. 

Unfortunately they chase right behind you, biting and gnawing at you. “I know I should go,” you admit in a nearly inaudible breath, “I know I should,” you repeat, more to yourself now as if to convince you that therapy might help. 

“It can only help, yeah?” He murmurs softly, careful to not touch your bleach soaked hair as he pulls you to his chest, “I can drive you, take you for dinner after.” 

You can’t help but smile against his broad chest, your load lightening ever so slightly as you breathe him in, feel his heart beating beneath your cheek. Every steady tap of its rhythm seems to reassure you; ‘it’ll be okay.’ 

“You wanna help me touch mine up?” George asks as he pulls away, hands grazing the side of your arms tenderly. 

“You must really pity me, to let me bleach that special hair of yours,” you tease, sniffing up the last of your emotions. 

“Take it or leave it,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes as a soft smile tugs at his lips. 

You’re quick to take it; quick to grab the bowl of bleach, just as he’s quick to kiss your lips, quick to bend down to your height; always and forever attempting to make life just a bit easier for you.

[bella-goths-wife]

Mommy’s girl

I just want to write about lost boys daughter for a minute because I had a dream about her for some reason, and she just loved her daughter so much

You keep seeing her.

You keep seeing the woman in your dreams who claimed to be your mother. The woman who revealed to you how your fathers had ripped her apart like wild pack animals.

She keeps appearing in your dreams, like a ghost that’s intent on haunting you. But you can see from her tear stricken face that she doesn’t intend to scare you.

You remember looking at her and thinking that she was like a mirror with how closely you resembled her. You find yourself wondering how your fathers coped with raising the mirror image of their victim, did they ever feel guilt when looking at you and seeing your mother’s sorrow bleed into your own?

“Why are you here?” You’d ask desperately, her first appearance was a sign of a warning so why wouldn’t her next appearances be the same

The woman wouldn’t respond, she’d only let the tears go down her cheeks as she looked at you with despair.

Sometimes she’d show you things, reveal memories that you never knew you held for yourself.

She’d show herself cradling a baby to her chest and cooing softly. She’d show you how caring your grandfather was and how they’d both fuss over you like you were the most prized possession.

Seeing those memories hurt, not because you could remember feeling the happiness from their love but because you couldn’t.

How different could your life had been if your mother had lived? Would you still have the mountain of issues surrounding abandonment and eyes that carry sadness that no child should? Or would you have been a happy child with an adoring mother.

The thoughts made you want to outstretch your arms to the woman and beg for your mommy like you were a child, but you couldn’t no matter how much you wanted to.

“Please talk to me” you’d eventually begged after the the fourth dream of seeing her sorrow stricken face “please, I can’t stand the silence”

The woman had outstretched her palm as if she wanted to wipe away your tears, but she retracted her hand just as quick.

“Do you blame me?” You asked with guilt sprawled across your face “am I the reason you’re dead? Was it my fault?”

There is a moment of silence as the woman tilts her head and lets out a small sigh and crouching down to get on your level.

“My last thoughts were of you” she states with a complexly soft voice where you couldn’t tell if she was sad or adoring “when I died all I could think about was my sweet little girl, the same little girl I had carried in my womb and held to my chest”

Your throat felt dry as you looked at her with somewhat scared eyes, wondering what her statements could mean.

“Some mothers give birth to their pain instead of their child, my own mother was a testament to that” the woman claimed with a sigh at her own memories before she meets your eyes with a firm gaze “I gave birth to my love instead, you were everything I had ever wanted or needed and the moment I looked into your tiny face I knew that I could never leave your side”

The woman brings her hand to caress your cheek, he touch was ice cold but you leant into her palm as if she were as warm as sitting in the sun on a summers day.

“As those evil bastards killed me, I just kept thinking about how I had left you in the living room and what would happen to you” she claims with a fierce look “as they drained me, all I could think about was how I was leaving you alone and I had never felt more scared in my lifetime then knowing that we’d be apart forever”

“You are so loved (y/n), you’ve been gifted with the ability to make the people around you care about you so deeply and love you so ferociously that they will protect you” the woman continued as she looks deeply into your eyes “I have never and will never look at you with nothing but adoration because you are the best parts of me and your father and I will always see you as my perfect, darling girl”

“I’m scared mom” you admit as the tears rush down your cheeks and your lip wobbles with barely contained desperation

“I know, my sweet girl” she says with a sympathetic “but I will always be beside you, you may not see me but ever since my death I have stayed by your side and I will continue to do so until your last breath”

“Can’t I just come with you” you ask with a sense of pure desperation “you can take me with you, we can be a family again”

“You have to stay here and keep fighting my darling girl, you’ve already accomplished so much” she states as she holds your face with both her hands “you’ve escaped them and you’ve got such a good life ahead of you for however long that may be, you have to stay here and enjoy it”

“I will always be here to protect you” she continues with a loving smile “I will always be here even when you can’t see me, because I love you more than anything else in the world. You are my greatest accomplishment and you will continue to make me proud as long as you live and don’t give up”

“I love you mom” you say as you lean into her touch once again “I wish we could have been a family”

“Me too” the woman says with a sigh before laying a gentle kiss on your forehead that feels like ice water “I will always be here when you need me, and I will always be here when you want me although sometimes you might not see me”

And with that your dream ended and the woman, your mother, faded away and you were faced with the cold reality.

You turn your head and see Micheal on the opposite side of the bed and for just a moment, you crave his affection.

You lean your forward against his back and you wrap an arm around his shoulders, if he wakes up he said nothing about the affection. He’s seems to have a good sense of when you crave something to make yourself feel whole again.

You decided then and there to continue to fight for as long as you live, however long that will be. And for the first time since your childhood, you feel comforted under the knowledge that your mother is with you, though you may not see her.

Sorry for the randomness of this, I think I’m just in my feels rn

[xxaraaq]

𝟭𝟵𝟴𝟮

masterlist

wc | 3.2k

cw | angst, traumatic upbringing, unprotected sex, long distance relationship for a little while ig

Reiner x black! reader

A/N | This is prob my longest fic so far but I really enjoyed writing this and I cried a lot. I hope y'all enjoy. Not edited btw so don't mind any mistakes.

The first time you told him that you wanted to move away when the time came to decide what you wanted to do with your life, he didn’t think much about it. Your opinions regarding your future fluctuated constantly, from what you wanted to have as a snack to what you wanted to be when you grew up. You could never decide on one thing for long. You were only nine at the time, and you left it at that. He was still glad that you dropped it nonetheless, for it would hurt him beyond measure to watch you leave. The two of you went to the creek to play with the other kids after that, and his thoughts were occupied on other things such as getting back at a boy called Clarence for pushing you onto a pile of rocks after you told him to leave you alone. Reiner’s always been like that, walking the extra mile for you whenever you needed it, even if you didn’t ask. He was the type to stand behind you when you were deep in a conversation with someone else, quietly hanging onto every word as you went on without a care in the world. It was simple, and he liked it like that. 

The second time he remembers you bringing it up, it was around freshman year of highschool. Things had started getting stressful at home, with your father having gotten caught in an affair and your mother turning to wine to cope. Those days were mainly spent at his fathers farm, helping him with his chores and anything that needed tending too. He always noticed how you would come to him with dry tears staining your face, but he never said anything about it. He was just happy that you were coming to him when things got hard, and you were happy that he was there through it all. Your bouts of sadness would never last long with him though, he would always be able to cheer you up no matter what went on in your home. You would come over so often that his mom would make you a plate once it was time for dinner. It was a normal day, you were helping Reiner with carrying hay bales for his horses, when it came out.

“I think I wanna move to a big city, like New York and LA once I graduate.” You say, mind fixated on not getting bit by Daisy, the feistiest horse you think you’ve ever met. He stops in his tracks, looking at you with a shocked face. “Why would you wanna do that?” He asks, concern lacing his tone. “I don’t know. I think I’m just tired of all the bullshit that comes with this sucky ass town. I wanna be able to live my life without anyone trying to strike down my dreams just cus’ they think it’s not the way I should be living.” You shrug, petting her as she chews on the straws of hay. He doesn’t really know what to think, but it makes him nervous. He knows that you have a multitude of reasons for wanting to get out, but he doesn’t want to see you go, especially not without him. It scared him, but he wasn’t going to let his fear outway his advice for you.

“Well I think you should do whatever makes you the happiest, I would hate to see you stay here in plain old misery just because you chose the thing that would make other people happy.” You smile at him, knowing that he talks purely out of his heart, and not just saying what you want to hear. His wholeness is your favorite quality about him. He’s never been one to shy away from the truth, and he always has your best interest in mind, even if it wasn't the best for him. “Awww, really?” You coo, walking up to him. “Yeah, why not? Why should you stay here if you don’t want to? Because of what other people might say? Screw that, it’s your life, and you shouldn’t be living it for others who don’t actually give a damn about you.” 

Without a doubt, those conversations were your favorites. You could be open and vulnerable with worrying about being judged or brushed off. It was talks of real life that constantly reminded you that Reiner was truly a good friend, a good person. He would actually listen instead of simply hearing to respond. It made you feel heard, made you feel like you weren’t out of your mind. It was the same for him as well. Whenever he talked about the pressures that his father put on him about being a leader, being responsible, and putting family above everything; he knew that all it took was a knock on your door and you would be there for him, comforting him with honest words and a tight embrace if need be. It was the perfect relationship, easy and smooth.

Until he started to fall in love.

He knew when he started to look at you in a different way, he wasn’t oblivious. He grew, so did you. The person you were sprouting into amazed him. You were kind, but not a pushover. Firm, but not some – well, most of the time. He was mesmerized by all parts of you, good and bad. You couldn’t lie when you thought he turned out just as fine, if not finer than all the other boys you grew up with. He was a solid six one, with years of hard labor showing on his body. He was still a gentleman, which is what you think is what you loved most about him. He was the sweetest boy you’ve ever known, and it wasn’t just for show. He was everything if not one for chivalry, always opening doors and being polite, slinging out “Yes ma’am” and “No sir”, just like he was taught. He was what every mother wanted their daughter to bring home, but he only had eyes for you. People could see it too, that’s why no one tried to steer his attention from you. He was the first and last person you saw every night, and were both fine with that. You would take long drives in his truck in the early mornings of the weekend, and spend time together in his cargo bed on late Sunday. It was peaceful, just you and him. He knew that you were starting to catch on, but he wanted to enjoy it, because talks of favorite tv characters turned into what colleges were being applied to. The unburdened era of childhood was slowly coming to an end, and it was frightening.

Frightening because you would have obligations to take care of, frightening because he knew that his endless conversations were manifesting.

Frightening because he knew his time with you was coming to an end.

Your mothers addiction had gotten much worse over the course of time, leaving you to have to deal with her hysteria. Reiner lost track of the amount of times you had called him on the landline, practically begging him to come pick you up, to save you from the cloud that has consumed your mother, from the feelings that brew inside you. You had grown sick of the stuffy place you call your hometown, and he had caught on quick – he always does.

The last time you talked about it was the summer after graduating. Your dynamic had changed, longing gazes had been throwing and touches had been shared. It was getting more romantic, more intimate. Reiner’s father decided that he should go stay at his grandmother's lake house for the summer, and that he should bring you. You knew you could go without having to ask, so off the two of you went. The ride was easy, songs being sung along to and many stops being made for pictures and pee breaks. The house was beautiful, with the frontside facing the beach. You settled in quickly, buzzing with excitement as you ran to the clear blue water. Many days were spent like this, the pair of you swimming and laughing and kissing in solidarity. It was what he dreamed of, being alone with you to just soak in your presence, nobody calling his name and nothing to worry about. It was bliss, until it wasn’t.

Summer was coming to a close, with only two weeks until fall semester began. He drove you two home, the air different from usual. He knew the privacy you had with him was going to change the nature of your relationship, but it still bothered him inside. During it all, he noticed that you would be awake in the early morning, asking your mother about a letter. He knew you wouldn’t talk to the woman unless it was of absolute importance, you despised her after all. You seemed more nervous the closer you got, but he tried not to think too much of it, summing it up to having jitters on going to college. 

It wasn’t until you called him a couple days later with dread in your voice that he knew what the phone calls were about.

“I got in.”

Words so simple, but so sad. Usually one would be happy that they got into college, but you weren’t. It hit him like a ton of bricks, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Was he supposed to be happy for you? Was he supposed to cry with you? Was he supposed to be strong for you? Yes, that’s exactly what he needs to be, what he's always been for you; for everyone.

“I’ll be over in a couple, just wait for me, okay?” His voice has always calmed you, but not this time. With a simple okay, you hung up the phone. He speeds through stop signs, breaking the speed limit by around twenty miles just to get to you faster. He jumped out the car, jogging down your driveway as you jump into his arms. He’s warm and smells nice, the scent of his cologne and freshly wet soil hitting your nose. He holds you for a second, then five, then ten. “What’s wrong sugar? What’s got you so worked up, huh?” He asks, looking at your features for any signs hinting at your distress. “I got in, Reiner. UCLA, they accepted me.” You say, gripping his shirt for support. “UCLA? I-isn’t that in California?” You nod, and he sighs deep, pulling your head to his chest. “I’m so glad they accepted me, but I’m scared. I don’t know anyone there, and I don’t wanna leave you.” 

Him. You didn’t want to leave him. He didn’t want to, but in that moment he felt so ecstatic that he was the only reason you wanted to stay. It was selfish, he knew that, but he elated that he was that special to you.

“Isn’t this what you always wanted? To get out this shitty little town and finally live your life?” He was right, when was he not? But it still hurt knowing that he wasn’t coming with you. “Yes, but I love you, and if I leave I won’t come back. I don’t wanna leave you here and you never see me again and you move on with life while I never stop thinking of you, thinking that if I stayed then none of it would’ve happened.” You were crying at this point, tears pouring down your face. He wiped them, even kissing some of them away. “Now in what world would I move on without you? Don’t be silly now, you're my number one girl. You're gonna go to UCLA, live your life, and be happy. I’ll be right here, supporting you from this shitty little town in Texas. We’ll talk to each other on the phone, and we’ll still love each other the same.” It was a lie, and he knew it. But it wanted to believe it so bad, you did too. You spent the rest of the night with him, and you ended up making love.

It was new to the both of you, but for some reason it wasn’t awkward. Light kisses down your neck and soft moans filled the night sky as your dream came true. As ashamed as you were of the fact, you had fantasized this night many times before. He treated you with care and compassion, as he did any other time. But it was different, more transparent. It was hot, sticky, and sweaty. But neither of you cared, happy to do this with each other, to be the others first.

It wasn’t long after that before he had to help you pack and see to the train. His mother cried for and with you, hugging you tight as she whispered prayers in your ear for your success and safety. You could see tears in his fathers eyes that wouldn’t dare fall. He told you that he’s always seen you as his own, and that he was happy that his son got to grow up with you. He drove you to the station, hand on your thigh as a reminder. A reminder that he’s there and that he doesn’t want to let you go, a reminder that he loves you.

A reminder that he’ll never forget you.

You wish you lived close enough to an airport so that you could spend more time with him before you left, but that wasn’t the case. He picked your luggage with a quiet grunt and followed you to the platform. You turned to him, not knowing what to say, and he knew it. Your eyes met his, and a tear raced down his cheek. You followed suit, and soon the both of you were crying. He pulled you into a hug that you never wanted to leave, and he knew it. He knew all of it, and that’s what you think made saying goodbye so much harder.

“Promise me you’ll call?” You ask, sniffling. “Course’ I will, doll. What kinda man would I be if I didn't call my woman?” His woman. You’re his woman. It’s supposed to make you happy, but it just makes you cry harder. “Cmon now, I don’t want cha’ goin on this train boo hooing when you have so much to look forward to.” You shake your head yes, touching your forehead to his. He kissed you again, then again, then again. If you weren’t whispering to each other, you’re sure that bystanders would’ve noticed by now. But you didn’t care, you just wanted one more night with him to watch the fireflies and talk about meaningless shit that has meaning in the moment, because that’s what it comes down to. Moments with him make you feel like everything is perfectly fine, even if they’re not. 

You hear the deafening sound of the train whistle in the distance, signaling the end of your time with him. “There’s your train to the future baby.” He says, kissing your temple. “Shut up Reiner!” You laugh, leaning into it.

He helped you board the train, finding your seat with ease. He looks at you, and you look at him. He’s frozen in place, and so are you. “I love you so much, let that be known for as long as you live.” He says, hugging you for the last time. “I love you too, don’t forget it either. Oh, and don’t forget to tell Daisy that mommy loves her.” You joke, chuckling as you see his face drop. She had warmed up to you over the years, and you were now her favorite person.“That damn horse is the bane of my existence.” he scoffs, and you burst out laughing. “I think you, your family, and that damn horse are the only things I’m gonna miss around here.” You say, playing with his collar. 

The conductor yells something you don’t catch, but you know it means that he has to leave. “Can’t I just come with you and tell my parents why I didn’t come back later?” He asks, a boyish tone in his voice. “You can’t,” you coo, “if you did, they would actually kill you when you got back.” “Who said I would come back?” Your eyes widen in shock, really contemplating it. All in all, he could come, but he has a life here for him – you don’t.

“No, you need to stay so you can take your fathers farm once you're old enough. I know that it’s your dream even though you get tired of it sometimes.” He looks at you with an expression you can’t explain. It’s as if he’s trying to tell you something he can’t put into words, but he doesn’t need to. You understand him just as well as he does you. Some things don’t need to be said, and this is one of those things. “Call me when you get there, ok?” He borderline begs. You say yes, and he finally walks off.

The trains move with a jerk, but you don’t pay attention to it. You see him as he slowly disappears into the distance, being replaced by forest and gravel. You don’t cry anymore, more like you refuse to, but you think to yourself – what if I stayed.

When you reach California, as the first day commences, when you finish your freshman year, and when you graduate. Through it all you constantly think to yourself, what would've happened if I stayed?

The calls started getting sparser and short, life catching up to the both of you making less time for each other. It still hurts when you think about it, but life is life, and it doesn’t stop for anybody. By senior year, the two of you stopped talking all together. You found people, as did he. The two of you drifted apart, as many others do. But you don’t care about the others, all you care about is him.

He calls you the day you graduate. It’s short and simple,exchanging hellos and words of well being. You want to ask him a million questions, but you refrain. You're content enough with just hearing his voice, even though you know it’ll be for the last time. He’s in the middle of asking you what your class rank when you hear a youthful voice on his end. “Is that your kid?” You ask, deep down hoping he says no. There's a brief pause, as if he’s thinking of a lie to tell you. “Yeah, she’s my youngest.” He finally says, and your heart drops. “Oh..that’s lovely to hear. How old is she?” You ask, throat tightening up. “She just turned two, her birthday was last week actually.” He sighs, seeming to be occupied with her. “What’s that sweet girl's name?” You ask, eyes darting around the room looking for something to keep you busy. “Um..I actually named her after you.” You freeze in your tracks, breath hitching. “Does her mom know about me?” You ask, hoping that she doesn’t. “No. She’s from out of town actually. Her names Natalie.” You can’t breathe. Room starts to spin around you. He notices, and starts to call out your name. “I..I gotta go Reiner.” You hang up the phone before he can say anything else.

She’s a reminder. A reminder of your old love,  a reminder that he’s always been waiting and still doesn’t want to let you go, a reminder that he loves you.

A reminder that he’s never forgotten you, and he never will.

-Nene

[crownedghostprince]

"Thank-you, my love..."

Loki x Gender Neutral!Sick!Reader.

Fandom: Marvel

Reader caught whooping cough and had been coping surprisingly well for the past few weeks, until one night they woke up at midnight to use the restroom and a sudden fit of coughing sent them into a whooping cough attack. Thank the Gods, their beloved boyfriend Loki awoke and came to their aid.

Hurt/comfort, sick reader, (y/n) not used, reader has whooping cough.

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): Detailed description of what a whooping cough attack can feel life. Detailed description of vomiting, pain and sickness.

Note: I caught whooping cough and had a pretty bad attack where I was coughing and couldn't really breathe because of it just an hour ago so I'm writing this to make myself feel better.

Word Count: 1k words.

[First Person Perspective]

(This image of Loki is brought to you today by tumblr user: lokiisninerealms. Specifically loved their fic: "Memories to Bake".)

My arms and whole body shook and quivered like a leaf as I fell into a deep, dark pit of a coughing fit. My legs gave out as I violently dry-heaved into the toilet and practically choked on my own phlegm. Shooting pains ran through my ribcage, from front to back, as if I was being stabbed. A horrible wheezing and whooping sound emerged from my lungs when my throat locked up. Every gasp for air sent me into another coughing fit until I was vomiting up phlegm with my dinner.

I couldn't breathe.

With every cough the burning bile from my stomach rushed up to my chest making my coughing worse. Making the pain worse. It hurt so much, my vision blurred as tears burned down my cheeks, but I barely felt them as the pain in my chest was so much worse. It felt like I was suffocating, drowning and somehow coming up for air all at once. The minute I got a bit of air into my lungs through my locked up throat, it'd just lock up tighter like a chain was wrapped around my windpipe. I knew I had to relax, but I couldn't. I felt too desperate.

A cool hand rested on the back of my neck and another hand began rubbing circles on my back. Like a light in a dark tunnel; I felt hope. "It's okay....you're okay...let it come up, that's it." A deep, soothing voice whispered into my ear. "You're doing great, darling, I've got you." He soothed. It was as if my brain could only focus on the pain I was in. I couldn't think of anything else, I couldn't distract or relax myself. But he was there. "Remember to relax...here, stretch your arms out like this, dear. That's it." My hands, which were tucked closely to my chest, were met with cool and soft skin that brought them forwards and around the toilet.

My whole body was practically hugging the toilet at this point. I felt gross, but I didn't have the strength to support my own weight. His hands came back to my head and neck and began massaging with slow and gentle movements. My body noticeably relaxed and I could feel my throat open up enough for air. Unfortunately, I was so desperate for air I began hyperventilating. Pins and needles pricked my fingers and face and my body went numb. Finally...finally I could breathe again.

Relief flooded my body as my vomiting and dry-heaving and coughing all settled. My body continued to shake violently as I cried my heart out and balled my eyes out. Loki continued to hold me, pulling me into a side hug so I was still facing the toilet in case another coughing fit came. I stayed like that for who knows how long. Still coughing and occasionally dry-heaving. With each cough, clear phlegm cleared out of my chest and eventually my coughing completely eased.

"Deep breath in...hold...and...deep breath out..slowly.." Loki guided. "That's it...I've got you...you're doing so well." He rested his head on top of mine, pressing a soft kiss to my hair. "It's over for now...you're okay.." He eased. "Let's get you cleaned up, darling."

He handed me toilet paper and tissues to clean up my gross snot and tears with. Then after we flushed the toilet, he helped me stand up and sit on top of the toilet lid. He got a damp washer and as I wiped my face, he prepared my toothbrush and toothpaste. Loki then took the washer back, handing me the toothbrush. As I brushed my teeth, he added soap to the washer and gently rubbed up and down my arms and hands.

I rinsed my mouth out and washed the soap off in the sink as Loki disinfected the toilet and got my towel. I winced when I saw how I looked in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy as all hell. My face looked sunken in from lack of sleep and the circles under my eyes were a dark contrast to my sickly-looking skin. I felt awful. Like death had visited me for an unwanted chat.

When Loki had finished cleaning up, he took my arms and gently led me back to the bedroom. He propped me up against the headboard with my soft pillows and plushies. Draping a fluffy blanket over me, he kissed my forehead and turned the t.v on. "I understand you might not want to sleep more after that...so how about I get you some water and medicine and we watch your favourite movie or show? Does that sound good, love?" He smiled softly and pressed another kiss to my forehead.

I couldn't speak. I felt too traumatized in the moment. The memory and feelings of what just occurred too fresh for me to function properly. I did my best to smile and nod my head as an answer, but I'm sure my smile was more of a pained grimace.

"Alright, very good." He handed me the remote and left to get water and medicine as quickly as possible. I scrolled Netflix until I found my favourite movie, thanking the gods in a silent prayer that Loki was my boyfriend. He returned in no time at all and helped me take the medicine and water. He left for more water and when he'd returned the movie was ready to go. He turned all the lights off (minus our cat nightlight which he'd set to my favourite colour) and he settled into bed beside me.

If Asgardians weren't immune to whooping cough, I'd have stayed far away. But because I knew he wouldn't catch what I had...I snuggled up as closely as possible. Until I was practically bear hugging him. Clinging like an overtired koala.

We were halfway through the movie and my seventh glass of water when I managed to whisper a crackly: "Thank-you, my love..."

"You're very welcome, love." He sighed into my hair - pressing multiple kisses to my head. "I was so worried I'd lose you...I'm so proud of you for fighting this awful sickness. I'll be here, by your side, every step of the way, my dear. So don't stop fighting it, okay?"

"Okay.." I sighed into his chest. He smelled of red wine and dark chocolate. I couldn't be more grateful for my wonderful boyfriend. I was a thousand percent marrying him the chance I got.

[askstyles]

would you write some angst for harry x reader please ?

ah , my favorite genre ! of course i can do that ! if there's anything else you'd like to request , then don't be afraid to send 'em my way !

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 : harry's show has just ended & he's greeted with a topic trending on twitter about y/n going to dinner with their ex .

𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 : mature

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : mentions of drug use , alcohol abuse , & sex

ruffled curls stick out in all directions as harry runs his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time . adrenaline is still coursing through his veins & he can hear the remainder of the crowd milling about just feet away from him . his mind is racing , though , as he squeezes his phone in his hand & paces a hole in the floor . back & forth , back & forth ; he can't comprehend what he's just seen .

staring back at him from a slightly cracked screen is a picture , a moment captured in time , of his partner , y/n , & their ex . the two of them have been caught laughing together , sitting across a neatly - laid table as they chat & eat . harry can't comprehend what's going on , why y/n would even entertain the asshole , & why he feels so utterly betrayed .

the door opening slowly & quietly catches his attention & harry turns towards the source , his anger becoming a red , hot , palpable entity in the face of a sullen y/n . all hope vanishes from within at their expression & infuriating tears begin to well behind harry's eyelids . the silence stretches between them for what feels like ages , until harry can't stand it anymore & breaks the tension .

" should i even ask ? " he questions , pacing long forgotten as his feet find themselves planted solidly across the room from y/n . " you've always had the worst poker face . "

" nothing happened , " are the first words out of y/n's mouth . " it was just dinner . they wanted to catch up ... & apologize . "

" then why keep it from me ? " harry questions , pressing his index finger into the middle of his chest . " hell , why even entertain the asshole who cheated on you ? "

" because of this ! " y/n suddenly yells , tears falling in rivulets down their cheeks . " because of this interaction right here . i knew you wouldn't understand & that you'd only turn it around on me . "

" you're damn right i don't understand , " harry breathes , exasperated as his adrenaline starts to take a nosedive . " that dickhead is the last person on earth who deserves your laughter . "

" that dickhead was also the only one who could make me laugh after you left me high & dry in italy to chase another one of your demons , " y/n argues , standing much taller & swiping angrily at the tears streaming down their face .

harry falters at that , time slowing as mention of that time in his life all comes flooding back . y/n knows how difficult it was for him ; what with the using sex as a coping mechanism , the drug use , & the alcohol abuse . yet , here they stand , throwing it back into his face . shaking his head , harry grabs his jacket from the back of a nearby chair & slips it on over his shoulders .

he can't bear to be in y/n's presence right now , doesn't even want to look at them , so he decides to forgo a shower . he'll just grab one at the hotel , if he can pull himself out of this overbearing hurt of heartbreak , that is .

" i'll rent you another hotel room for the night , " harry tells them , voice soft as he's unable to look at them .

" har— " y/n starts , but he holds up a hand to stop them .

" i'm exhausted , y/n & i can't do this right now , " harry tells them , gathering up a few of his things as he heads for the door . once he reaches the threshold , he stops in his tracks , shoulder to shoulder with y/n , & blows out a sigh . " i hope they can make you laugh this time . "

and , with that , harry slips out of the dressing room , off to chase another one of his demons & drown himself with his own misery .

[takaraphoenix]

Queerplatonic Jupiter x Percy, an AU in which Jason, who was dating Percy, died in battle with another monster, Percy works at a flower shop and [not very successfully] tries to cope with the loss of the love of his life, Jupiter meanwhile feels something strange about the sea brat.

For the first time, he ignores him with the royalty and arrogance worthy of his expensive wife - a cup of instant coffee and a dry muffin interests him much more than the king of Olympus in the youthful appearance of his peer. If you ask Jupiter what he needs from the sea brat, he will answer that he just likes to look at Perseus Jackson's pretty face and exhale the soft scent of jasmine and sea salt coming from him, although in fact Jupiter does not know and understands what he wants from him at all. For the second time, Perseus deigns to look at him and say, - "Damn it, at least buy flowers for your queen, stop looking, I'm going to lose my job so soon because of you." His voice is hoarse, but melodious and warm, like hot tea with honey, tired and infinitely sad sea-green eyes shimmer and shine like seawater in the rays of the sun. Jupiter suddenly wanted to turn this marine offspring into a bird and keep it next to him on Olympus to hear him sing, but save his eyes to admire them. He buys the most expensive composition and gives it to Juno, his wife is filled with tenderness for him. during intercourse with her, he still wants to listen to Perseus Jackson sing and see how his eyes shine and shimmer. The third he breaks, no, he comes broken Perseus Jackson would rather strangle himself than allow someone in whose veins flows pure ichor, undiluted mortal redness, to see his pain. His delicate pale caramel neck is tightly wrapped in white bandages, the neat nails of his beautiful fingers are broken off and blood is frozen on them with a dirty crust, almost healed scars and very fresh wounds timidly peek out from under the wide sleeves of his shirt. Jupiter really didn't watch him do this to himself - just watching it and his own inability to help take pity on him, deprive him of pain and turn him into something eternally sleeping was painful. "Please," his voice is still hoarse and warm, the purest silver ringing in Jupiter's ears, "just hug me, do nothing, just hug me... You look so much like him." Jupiter, to his amazement, obeys him and does not want to take anything in return. They sit down on the sidewalk near the flower shop, — Perseus presses his trembling back against his chest, hiding his face in the curve of his elbows, tears moisten the fabric of his shirt, Jupiter covers them with his jacket and presses his lips to the top of Perseus' head, his hair is soft as silk and smells like hot chocolate. The rain gently washes them, the rays of the setting sun fall on their bodies, they are unacceptably close and Jupiter feels the lightning inside him reaching for the seething stream in Perseus' soul, was this what his son felt from Perseus' proximity? if so, Jupiter could understand him, he wanted it to last forever, or at least to seal this moment forever in your memory.

Hey, hello! could you please rate and voice your opinion about my letter - beginner anon.

So, generally people send a "hey, would you mind reading over sth I wrote because I'd love feedback?" first, and wait for the reply, instead of dropping 500+ words into people's askbox.

Because I do not do major character death. That's not my jam. I'm not reading stories that deal with people losing the love of their life and having to cope with that, that's the anti-thesis to what I look for in a fic. So I am the wrong person to give you my opinion or "rate", whatever that means in the context of fanfiction, this, since the very theme of it gets negative points from me.

I wish you good luck with your writing though, and there is always someone whose favorite trope or theme something is! This is just not for me. ^^°

[rozieramati]

1/3/23, 12:45am

if you were to text me “i miss you” i would reply, “why did you push me away?” and you would say something dry and minimal like “i don’t know” “i’m sorry” or you might not say sorry at all. and i’d be left alone. with the broken pieces of us that you scattered across my heart space. inevitably, the waves crawl up my neck and i’m submerged into the past of what was almost something really beautiful. almost. i was so selfless and young. so willing to love and devote myself to all of you. and i hadn’t felt that before. i’d liked boys before, but i’d never been in love. 

it’s hard to admit i was in love. i don’t know you. it felt like you knew me. but i really don’t know you. not after how you left. emphasis on the how. it was how you left me that completely washed away any and all things i was sure of. any and all things that made me fall in love with you in the first place. gone. wiped away. there’s rain dripping down my windowpane. it looks like it feels similar to the tears that are currently running down my face. i’m really happy without you i think. i’ve found myself and i know now i can get to where i want to be. without you. i just really wish i didn’t have to sometimes. i just miss you sometimes. ok.

ok. 

i always have something to say these days because i never had the chance to say my peace to you. i write i write i write. i write. i’m running like tear-drops on cheek windowpanes. i don’t want to admit that i love you. loved. you. love. 

it doesn’t make sense. and i can't cope with anything that doesn’t have reason. i’ve moved on probably. but the wound still hurts to touch. so, don’t tell me you miss me unless you mean it. i don’t care if you’re too far to see me. you were always too far but it didn’t matter because i could still feel you next to me. it was hard but it was ok. because the love alone was enough. just that alone, it was enough. and that was the first time it was enough for me. so why did you push me away? i tried. i really did. i couldn’t force you to see me though. and i couldn’t live in ache for much longer, otherwise i would have died. technically i have. i’ve been reborn. but i mean real death. like that spark of light within, dimming to nothing. that would have been me, should i have let the ache persist. a phoenix never-again rising. i couldn’t be that. because of the music. i promised myself that i would stay for the music. long before i met you. so i did. i’m still here. for the music. 

you don’t care. i should stop. 

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2023 || FFXIV Write info\\Prompt list\\Character info \\Master post ||

Prompt 21: Grave

a place of burial, typically a hole dug in the ground and marked by a stone or mound.

Character(s): Ciel Fyth Cw: mentions of death Word count: 983 Notes: Two days in a row for Ciel! This takes place immediately after the events in ARR when the Waking Sand gets attacked. Malek and Elorra were not there, Ciel was. This is the aftermath. It's a little bit of a drabble that I am definitely going to go back and reword but again, this is the first draft that I wanted to submit. For context, Ciel has gone mute and uses sign language to communicate with his brother. I tried my best to explain it but just in case, I figured I'd lay it out plainly here. Anyway for now, please enjoy some angst. :3 /runs/

Not even two bells after the attack on the Waking Sands, Ciel found himself assisting with the digging of the graves for his fallen comrades.

When he was found by Elorra, he was told he was in some sort of shock but he couldn’t really recall what had happened the moments beforehand. He just knew that something horrific had happened and he blocked it out.

Elorra had brought him to the Chapel near Camp Dry Bone and they both waited for Malek to arrive. He was panicked as he had seen the attack unfold through his echo vision and had hugged Ciel so tightly out of relief. Ciel thought he’d cry then but he hadn’t. 

The head of the church insisted that he rest as Malek and Elorra returned to the Waking Sands to retrieve the bodies but Ciel found that he couldn’t do that. So he instead went out to assist with the digging of the graves and helping lay the bodies to rest as they were brought to the church. It was a need. He had to do this for them because he survived and they didn’t. It was the only way he knew how to cope, just as it had been when his village was attacked all those years ago. 

It took the better part of the afternoon before the final grave was dug and the final body was laid to rest. It was only a small handful of graves but to Ciel, it was far too many. Those people had been his comrades, his fellow Scions, his new friends. They had all been enjoying each other’s company and then just like a candle being blown out, they were gone.

He inhaled a shaky breath as he came to rest under the shade of a nearby tree. There was a heaviness in his chest that was becoming too much but he still couldn’t find the energy to cry. His gaze looked out over each of the graves before him, his hands clutching the bouquet of flowers Elorra had brought for him tightly. This was always the hard part. 

One by one he went to each mound of dirt and placed a lily on top. He did this task silently and slowly, recalling each name and face of the fallen as he went. By the time he reached the last grave, the heaviness in his chest became too much and he collapsed with sobs, the memory of everything rushing back in a sickening haze.

He could their screams, their pleas for mercy. He could hear the imperials barreling through each doorway as they sought their prize, taking out anyone who stood in their way. He didn't know how he managed to escape and stay hidden. He wasn't sure why he was allowed to live when his fear kept him rooted in place while they all fought for their lives. It didn't seem fair.

Ciel was unsure how much time had passed before he was able to stop crying. His throat was raw, his eyes itchy as he slowly began to uncurl from within himself. He slowly sat up, his joints stiff, taking note that the sun was beginning to sink into the horizon. A small sniffle escaped him as he stood up and his ears flickered at the crunch of gravel behind him.

Ciel didn't panic. He knew it was his brother coming to check on him. The viera slowly wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand before turning to face his brother with a small watery smile. He hoped he had only just gotten here and hadn't seen him moments before. He had already put him through enough today.

“Elorra said you'd be out here," Malek said quietly as he came to a stop next to him. "Are you ready to go? We should head back."

Ciel felt his throat close up when he tried to verbally respond to the question. He couldn't bring himself to speak. It was too much. He hesitated on a nod instead, looking back out at the mounds, not wanting to leave them but unable to express that thought.

Malek's brow creased in concern, almost as if he knew exactly what Ciel was thinking. This wasn't the first time he'd watch his brother go through something like this but gods, he hoped it would be the last. He turned to face his brother, placing a warm hand on his shoulder, keeping a firm but gentle tone as he spoke. "You need rest Ciel, I know you want to stay but you'll make yourself sick if you stay out here all night. I'm sure they wouldn't want that for you either. I promise we'll come back to visit them and we'll bring them flowers, alright?"

Finally, Ciel met eyes with his brother, slowly releasing a breath. A few stray tears slipped down his cheeks as he nodded again. He still couldn't bring himself to speak so he instead opted to sign back to his brother. ‘You’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s go.’

Malek smiled softly despite the situation. This was at least a good thing to see him signing so soon. After their village had been attacked, Ciel refused to speak or sign for months. He was expecting it to happen again when Elorra expressed to him her worry that he hadn't spoken a word since she had found him. He had told her it would take time and patience. This was how Ciel processed.

“Don’t apologize, I understand," Malek spoke and signed gently. He gave his brother's shoulder a gentle squeeze before releasing it. "We can come back tomorrow after you've gotten some rest, alright kiddo?” 

‘Tomorrow then.’ Ciel signed giving his brother another nod with a small smile before turning on his heel to walk side by side with his brother down the path where Elorra was waiting for them.

[sunny6677]

Flames.

Summary: Skid is saved from a situation he never thought he'd be in. But now he has to heal from everything he went through. And he doesn't know how.

Chapter 12: A Memory.

TWS: SKID HAS A FLASHBACK AGAIN, SKID DISSOCIATES????, KIDNAPPING IMPLICATIONS, TRAUMA IMPLICATIONS, VERY STRONG CHILD ABUSE IMPLICATIONS, IMPLIED PHYSICAL ABUSE, PROFANITY, SKID IS VERY TRAUMATIZED AND ANXIOUS, SELF BLAME.

(SERIOUSLY. SKID GOES THROUGH A LOT IN THIS SHIT. BE WARNED. YES, THIS IS A STORY ABOUT HIM SLOWLY HEALING FROM HIS TRAUMA, OR AT LEAST TRYING TO. BUT THAT DOESNT MEAN ITS NOT SOMEWHAT DARK. BE WARNED. DONT WORRY THOUGH, IT DOESNT ROMANTICIZE ANY OF THE DARK THINGS IN IT THOUGH. IT IS POTRAYED AS A BAD THING. THIS IS JUST ABOUT SKID HEALING FROM A BAD EXPERIENCE.)

(I ALSO PARTIALLY WROTE THIS STORY TO KINDA COPE WITH MY TRAUMA, SINCE WRITING ABOUT PEOPLE SLOWLY HEALING FROM THEIR TRAUMA KINDA MAKES ME FEEL BETTER ABOUT MY OWN EXPERIENCES.)

————

For the rest of the night, Skid had temporarily slept inside of his mother's room.

His mother had a soft but comforting grip around him as he slept beside her, her face buried into the back of his head. He had stopped crying many minutes ago, yet his eyes still felt dry from the sheer amount of tears that had seeped out of his eyes. His tiny hand remained gripping on the sheets of the already dark bedroom. Skid tried his best to keep his eyes closed, considering anytime he did, his mind played tricks on him.

Often, this did occur even before he was.. taken. It was a natural thing for human beings to experience after all. If he kept his eyes open in the dark for too long, he would start to see things. He would think things would move, he'd think he'd see something lurking in the dark. But alas, it would always be nothing but his mind. For he was bound to either find out that it was merely the paranoia of his brain, or it was just some random object in the dark.

Skid opened his eyes for only a moment. He saw a silhouette of the coat rack beside the door, which his mother would often go to whenever she was throwing on clothes for work, or whenever it was cold outside.

Many coats hung on the frame of the coat rack, and Skid could recognize one of them as the one his mother wore whenever he went over to Pump's house that one time. He shivered a little, thinking of what had happened with that Happy Fella doll that very same night. Even if it had been a fairly long time ago, it still frightened him. And even if he remembered that the doll was basically dead due to he and Pump shoving it in the oven, he could still remember the way it melted. If he were the same as he had been then, he wouldn't feel scared. But now, it.. felt as if things were different.

He looked at the coat rack again. The frame of it oddly resembled a man. A tall man, in fact. It was only his imagination, of course. But he couldn't help but think it looked like a man. An oddly familiar frame of a man in fact.

...

He let out a small whimper, clenching his eyes shut. He gripped the sheets harder as a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.

In response, his mother held him tighter, and gently rubbed his head. She softly shushed him, "..shhh.. its okay.". Skid would have pulled at his hair out of stress if it wasn't for the grip his mother had on him right now. "It was just a nightmare.. you're okay.." She whispered to him gently, rubbing her fingers through the tendrils of his hair still.

He didn't even bother to open his eyes. He didn't want to look at anything anymore. He just didn't want to see anything anymore. He didn't want to be anything anymore.

He didn't want to feel anything anymore.

————

Morning soon came, and sunlight poured upon the town from outside. Skid had already been out of bed, for he was awoken by his mother. His mother wouldn't be taking the day off of work like she did yesterday. He still felt a little ashamed of what he did yesterday. He caused a scene, and probably worried the heck out of Kevin. He freaked out more than he should have. Guilt coursed through him like a wave of thundering emotions ever still, pounding within him like the flap of a butterflys wings.

He wanted to apologize to Kevin for what happened yesterday, even if he had already. But he didn't know how he would if he couldn't even go to the candy store without causing such a ruckus over such a small thing. And as to what such a small thing was, he still didn't know.

His mother was still present, for it was morning, and soon she'd be taking him to Pump's house. After all, it was what was always done whenever she had to go to work. He'd be thrown under Mr. Wonder's care until she got back. Rays of light seeped from the window from outside. His mother was making him breakfast, and currently, he was in the kitchen. He was waiting for her to finish making breakfast, since he didn't want to make her angry or anything. Wait—no, no. She wouldn't be angry. She wasn't..

He shook his head. He was beginning to grow tired of his new anxieties.

His mother was beside the kitchen counter, seemingly making a simple stack of pancakes for both him and her. There were even two plates of crispy bacon beside the stack of pancakes. He couldn't really do much but watch in anticipation as she kept cooking. He wondered why and where she had gotten such good cooking skills sometimes. Was it a natural born skill for any type of parent? If so, then it certainly didn't count for..

He shook his head again. Now wasn't the time to be thinking such thoughts.

Eventually, upon hearing the sounds of the still sizzling bacon coming closer, he realized that his mother had been done with the cooking. He heard the clinking of the plate being placed upon the table. He blinked, contorting his head in the direction of where the plate had presumably been. His mother was now standing beside the table with a somewhat nervous smile. The plate now had both bacon and pancakes on it. He smiled, hunger aching within his stomach. A need for digestion coursed through him and splashed within like a writhing waterfall.

His mother then walked over to her chair, and sat in it, looking at him with an anxious gaze. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, like it had been ever since he reunited with her. He wasn't really used to seeing her hair like that, considering he always remembered it being down. But it wasn't like he minded it or anything. It was just going to take some getting used to considering that within the few days Skid had been back, she never took it down.

Skid then grabbed weakly at a piece of bacon, and slowly pulled it towards his mouth. He took a small bite out of it, still a little paranoid of vomiting again. It was good. Just like all her cooking had been. The flavor washed within Skid's mouth, feeling like a liquid of heaven had been spilled upon him if only for a moment. If it were possible, he'd have stars in his eyes. Even so, he only took small bites out of it. It was weirdly funny. Had he been the same as he was before he was taken, he would have basically consumed every bit of it already.

As he continued to eat, his mother spoke up. "So, uh.. are you excited to see your friend again?"

Skid paused. He then looked up at her, but only for a small moment. He quickly looked away again, averting his gaze. "U—Uh.. yeah, I am."

His mother went quiet for a moment. Skid could hear the close sounds of her silverware clinking against the plate. "Are—are you sure? You don't look too excited."

Skid replied, "I—I am! I promise.. I just don't think I feel too good."

His mother went quiet again. "Well.. hey, I know things have been hard since you came back. But.. maybe seeing your friend will make you feel happy again!"

"Yeah.. if I don't ruin it this time." Skid mumbled softly under his breath.

"What was that?" His mother asked, seeming curious.

His trembling voice immediately stammered back, "No—Nothing! Don't worry about it.."

There was silence that filled the room once more.

"Sweetie.. are you sure you're okay?"

Skid gulped.

"..yeah, I'm okay. I promise.."

————

Skid had currently been in the living room by now. His mother was preparing herself to drop him off. He had been waiting for about 10 minutes right now, sitting in front of the couch as the artifical light from above still rained down upon him like an unnatural force.

He could hear the faint buzzing of it. It buzzed like a fly scattering around and searching for a way of its survival. The TV had been flipped to some random horror movie he hadn't exactly seen before. His mother hadn't turned it on for him. He had actually. He felt a little proud of himself for being able to do such a thing on his own. Perhaps he was more capable than he originally thought.

On the screen, there was a child character seemingly hiding from what Skid could obviously tell was a threat. The child character was in a closet as ominous ambience played on the movie. Skid cocked his head to the side, watching with nervous happiness. He felt almost nervous that he was happy. Anxious that he was happy. Fearful that he was happy. But he wasn't sure why.

Artificial light continued to buzz from above, immortal in sound. It would only ever stop if he turned the light off. But he had been too focused on the movie to really do that. Staring at the TV screen, he was continuing to watch the movie despite the internal dread he felt. Like something bad was about to happen.

The child character walked slowly off screen as ominous footsteps were heard in the background. There was a shadow of two feet walking by the door, stopping for only a moment, only to move again. The movie was doing an oddly good job at keeping the aura and feel of the whole scene ominous. Whoever the film director had been must have been really cool.. or at least that was what Skid had thought to himself.

The child character let out a sigh of relief. Skid watched with raised shoulders, his hands clenching onto his legs. He was internally preparing for some kind of jumpscare. Despite his now anxious nature, he couldn't help but feel a little excited. He always got some sort of childish glee out of horror movies after all. As he watched with bated breath, the child character began to walk toward the door slowly, as if to walk out. Slowly, slowly. Closer, closer. Skid's eyes shimmered with delight as if seemingly built up to the jumpscare.

Yet as the child character got close to the door, and slowly wrapped their hand around the door handle.. nothing happened. No jumpscare had occurred. Skid felt confused, wondering why it hadn't followed the usual horror movie trope of unnecessary scares. That was what he loved about horror movies after all. He cocked his head to the side a few more inches, arching his brow. The child character slowly peeked out of the door, a dark hallway being revealed as they held a flashlight up nervously. Nothing else had occurred but the sound of complete silence.

The child character began to slowly walk out of the door, seemingly aiming to find some way of quietly escaping. They continued to walk, trying to be quiet. The film could pick up the sounds of their footsteps making the wood planks creak. Though as they did, they suddenly stopped in their tracks. Despite Skid's confusion, he continued to watch with great curiosity, wondering what they had seen.

The child character looked downwards at whatever they had seen. They had stepped on something. The camera slowly panned to what appeared to be.. an ominous child-like drawing of some kind. A.. A drawing. A paper with a badly drawn horrific figure of a man upon it and some child.

Skid continued to look at the screen, almost hypnotized. A feeling of sticky dread made its way to his head, making it feel as if he was experiencing some kind of pain within. He held his tiny hand to his forehead, and pressed his palm against his skin. What was this feeling? A coat of sweat began to form on Skid's face as he tried to keep looking at the screen, but he just couldn't pay attention. And.. and he didn't know why he couldn't.

A flash of a memory them occurred within his mind. It was something he already remembered, but it felt.. vivid for some reason now. Like he was experiencing it again. In his memory, he could internally see.. Keender. He could internally picture himself sitting in the dirty living room of Keender's house, drawing on a slightly ripped piece of paper. The paper had been ripped because Skid had struggled to get it out from where he found it.

He remembered what he drew. Sort of, anyway. It was a drawing of him inside of the house, and a drawing of Keender right next to him. He drew himself frowning with tears pouring out of his eyes. Keender had been standing next to him in the drawing, bared teeth in his snarl. He looked abnormally big in the drawing, and Skid wasn't sure why. He seemed as tall as the house even, yet somehow he still looked to fit inside.

A feeling of dread began to internally overwhelm him. The memory kept flashing at him. He remembered Keender coming in with a rough pound of his footsteps hitting the ground as if he were smacking it with his bare hands. Keender had always walked like that, and due to it, Skid couldn't ever really tell if he was angry or not.

He could see Keender's irritated expression within his mind, his teeth bared just like the drawing. He was angry. Skid knew it so. Skid felt a wave of anxiety flush through him, just like it had then. He remembered looking at Keender for only a moment, before looking away. He could recall Keender cursing under his breath, saying something along the lines of, "God.. its fucking hot.. its warmer than the fires of hell.. I swear to.."

He could remember Keender then going quiet, and the feeling of intense anxiety splashing over him whenever he felt his gaze set upon him. He remembered Keender growling, saying between angered gasps, "What the fuck do you think you're doing, kid? Where'd you get that paper from?"

Skid could remember him not being able to answer, for he was too frightened. Nothing else came out of his mouth but a short gasp. He remembered looking up at Keender, or at least forcing himself to. Finally, after a bit, he remembered himself saying in a meek tone, "..I.. I dunno." It was a lie, obviously. But it was an automatic response to Keender's anger that he couldn't really help but say.

"Bullshit.." Keender would curse behind his tone of anger, "Give that here!"

Keender then suddenly launched foward, and grabbed the paper before Skid could even take it from him. Skid wouldn't even dare try, for he feared being hurt again. He feared the feeling of Keender's sharp and painful slaps. Skid couldn't remember what else had really happened in that moment. No.. no, wait.. he could.

He could remember Keender looking at the drawing, only to look at him with a sharp and angry gaze. Skid remembered that automatically, an apology began to slip out of his mouth. And then.. Keender's hand had suddenly balled up and began to move closer to his face in an agonizing move of harm—

"Sweetie! I'm done changing! Are you ready to go see your friend?"

Skid blinked, suddenly snapped out of his memory. His head contorted to the direction of the voice, only to realize that it was his mother speaking from another room. She sounded as if she were nearby, most likely near the entrance already. Skid then felt sharp pants slipping from out of his tiny mouth, feeling as if he had just ran some sort of marathon. A bead of sweat was still rolling down his skin as he looked on with anxious eyes. His pupils were shaking with a blinding tint of fear.

Yet even so, he gulped, keeping down the urge to cry once more. He wasn't going to ruin everything. He couldn't ruin everything again.

Ignoring the agonizing memory the best he could in his mind, he spoke the best he could in a steady voice, and said, "Ye—Yeah! Coming, mom!"

//////////////////////

E