#(for my life I mean. or even the near future)

[sunnified]

OUR LAST SUMMER.

synopsis. garroth thinks you're beautiful no matter what happens, he just wishes he could tell you that.

pairing. pdh!garroth x gn!reader

content. angst, hurt/no comfort, CHARACTER DEATH, a lot of past/present tense changes, one huge metaphor, it's also cute (!!!!), one use of "my love".

word count. 0.8k

a/n. i don't know what possessed me. anyway, we hit 69 followers (lol), so here's this to celebrate??? :)

he stared down at the freshly blossomed flower in his hand.

garroth thought you looked perfect that evening, radiant under the summer sky and surrounded by a field of florescence. the checkered blanket beneath you only served as a backdrop to the real masterpiece and there was a tangible beauty in the quietness of his family’s back garden, elevating the simplest of pleasures.

it wasn’t anything particularly special, just the pair of you enjoying a peaceful evening together whilst his family wasn’t home, but it was hard to come by free time anymore with finals season knocking on your doors. yet, it had been with you.

your gaze had been set on the singular rose between your forefinger and your thumb, examining the velvet petals with childish curiosity and garroth remembered wondering if you had ever looked at him like that. a petal fluttered and landed near his outstretched leg.

he hummed, a smile playing on his handsome features, “surely, that’s not more interesting than me, my love?” it couldn’t be helped with how he revelled in the way your eyes met his, and how you seemed shyer at the utter of his favourite endearment.

had he ever known what was going on in your mind?

you didn’t immediately answer, body acting first as you shuffled closer to him, “of course not.” your head laid on his shoulder, the rose falling to lay in your lap. a petal drifted from the bud.

you had left home in the early morning, immediately heading straight for your boyfriend’s home to spend the entire day with him — how had he gotten so lucky with you? his world seemed brighter with you in it, and over the course of the relationship you seemed to have wormed your way into every aspect of his life.

every game he played, you were there in his spare jersey, cheering him on the loudest from the stands. each walk home was accompanied by your lame jokes and brazen sense of humour. even his mother got along with you, inviting you to help her tend the flowerbeds whenever you were around.

a surge of sadness pierces his heart, and garroth blinks back the wetness gathering in his lids. he had felt you slipping through his fingers.

“can you believe it?” you asked, tucked under the weight of his arm, knees tucked tight to your chest, “high school. finished. just like that, on a random friday, we’re done.”

that’s right, it had been senior summer, when you were both naïve teenagers with the prospect of your entire future ahead of you. garroth knew your uncertainty about what to do after high school, having listened to you voice it a million times over. he never complained, smitten with the way you scrunched your nose in anger at having to grow up.

he’d chuckled, it was smooth and self-assured with the way he’d brought you impossibly closer, “isn’t that a good thing?” his lips parted, “we get to start the rest of our lives.”

“a new chapter in life.” you’d replied, breaking into a bittersweet smile. you were an angel, he was certain of it, since there could be no explanation for the way his heart momentarily stopped. “what do you think awaits us?”

garroth would of never of guessed this.

each phase of living has forms of arriving and leaving, he knows that. it doesn’t mean he has to accept it right now. his admittance had come in the form of a relaxed exhale, “i don’t know.” a chaste kiss found home on your forehead, “i really don’t.”

you’d retaliate by interlacing your fingers, not noticing another petal separating from your rose, “i hope it’s good things.” even though you’d whispered into the evening air, manifesting to the universe that you would both lead good lives, garroth agreed.

his mother had told him that leaving was a form of loving, it was a way of showing that he was strong enough to do what he needed to do without guidance, and as such your bond would forever be unbroken. every time he thought he was close to knowing, close to understanding why, the odd melancholy feeling returned. a sense of guilt.

“garroth,” his name coming from your lips was the sweetest symphony, “i love you, you know?” you’d sat up, body turning to face him fully and crossing your legs. your hand squeezed his, “forever and always.” the rose lay forgotten near your feet, crushed in by accident amongst the blades of grass.

a tear slipped down his cheek, and he wiped his face before it could slip any further. his own hands, aged and lined with memories, held the freshest rose he could find.

that summer had been his favourite, filled with memories of you and him together. not even the dread of the future could dampen his reminiscence.

yes, that summer had been his favourite and it had been your last.

he crouched down, placing the flower on the undisturbed ground, protected from the summer’s breeze by the marble tomb. it was a symbol that you had existed here, at one point.

“i love you, too.”

#𖤓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃. #pdh garroth #garroth ro'meave #aphmau garroth #mystreet x reader #garroth x reader #aphmau #aphblr #aphverse

[seiya-starsniper]

Dreamling Week Day 5 & 6 (Soulmates/Monochromatic)

This one is more of an idea for now, versus a full on fic, but when I saw the prompts for Days 5 and 6, my brain ran away with this concept. I honestly don't know if I'll ever get around to writing it myself, so if someone else wants to give a go, be my guest 😄

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

Soulmate AU where Hob sees color for the first time when he meets Dream in 1389. 

In this AU, due to their initially short lifespans, nearly all humans believe that you can only have One Soulmate. When you meet your soulmate, you'll immediately know, because that is when your vision goes from black and white to seeing in color.

Immortal beings however, such as the Endless, along with gods, the fae, etc., know that a "soulmate" is just a person with whom you can form a deep and life changing bond with. Most beings have multiple soul bonds, sometimes simultaneously, though only the first one grants you the power to see color, while any subsequent soul bond grants its own gift, depending on the nature of the relationship.

Because humans have such short lifespans at first, most humans don’t even meet someone with whom they can form a soul bond with before they die. There is also religious rhetoric that claims soulmates must be romantic in nature, or at least married.

When Death takes Dream to the White Horse, Dream senses his potential connection with Hob immediately. He is disinterested in forming a bond at first (his last human soul bond was Nada, and that left a poor taste in his mouth for obvious reasons), but then he hears Hob brag about never dying, and suddenly Dream is interested in his new potential soul bond.

Hob, at this point in time, has been told his entire life that his soulmate would be his future wife, so imagine his utter SHOCK when Dream appears. At first, he thinks he's going to Hell for having a man as a soulmate, but then he stops caring as they talk more, and then he's hopelessly charmed. They agree to meet in 100 years as normal, but then Dream leaves without giving Hob his name, and Hob's too drunk to notice he just let his soulmate get away.

Hob spends the next few years looking for Dream, mourning that he was too drunk to really have a properly conversation with his soulmate, but then 100 years go by, and now Hob thinks he's soulmates with the Devil so 1489 goes something like this:

“Why can I see color? Am I really soulmates with the devil?” “I am no devil.” “Then what are you? And why aren't I long dead?” “You said you wanted to live forever. So you shall. And I am interested.” “In me?” “In your experience.” “My…experience?” *lightbulb moment* “You want to know what it's like.”

Their meetings go much the same way, with Hob thinking for a bit that in order for him to continue being immortal, he has to prove himself "worthy" of his soul bond with Dream, whose name he still doesn't know. He meets his other soul bonds (Peggy, Eleanor, etc) over those centuries, and he loves each and every one of them, but Dream, the one who gave him colors, will always be the one that means the most to him. He realizes that maybe he no longer needs to prove himself to his first soul bond, maybe they can have something more than just a conversation one every 100 years.

Dream naturally, gets upset at the very notion (he's still reeling from how poorly everything with Nada ended) and so he storms out in 1889 as usual. When he gets capture by Burgess in 1916, Dream is not only cut off from The Dreaming, but from Hob as well, and so Hob loses the ability to see color. Hob, not knowing what's happened to Dream, thinks that somehow, Dream has died, even though soulmate gifts don't leave upon death. His fears are confirmed in 1989 when Dream doesn't show up for their meeting. Hob mourns, but he can't forget Dream, so when the White Horse is shuttered, he buys out The New Inn anyways, so that there's always some sort of memorial for Dream near the place where they first met.

Then 2022 rolls around and Dream walks into The New Inn and BOOM, Hob can see colors again. Cue a very romantic reunion 💖

#dreamling #hob x morpheus #dream x hob #dreamling week #dreamling week 2024 #seiya writes #seiya writes dreamling #truly have no idea if I'll ever get around to this but I do love the idea of it

[spaghett-onaplate]

depression is really weird actually wdym i spent 2.5 years of my life in bed

#and wdym that lifestyle changed so quickly into being out and about and an active member of the world?? #very proud of myself #and i mean it wasn't that quick of a change #it was like 1.5 years primarily depression bedrotting with occasional school -> primarily depression bedrotting -> #primarily depression bedrotting with 3-9 hours of work weekly -> straight into 31+ hours school+9-12 hours work weekly #so there was somewhat of a gradual progression #but still #also wowza i wake up 7-7:30am every morning now. 1pm was an early wake up for a not so insignificant amount of time #i mean of all fundamental growth years to miss out on the ages like what 12/13-15 aren't too bad? they would suck in a different way if i #had been socially involved #anyway it's just. yea i'm proud of myself but it is a crazy lifestyle change #and even when i was deeply depressed in a horrible routine i feel like i learned a lot. how to regulate my emotions and cope well and find #the joy in everything. bc if i stayed in bed all day then i would at least be happy about the sun or whatever #and for the while of being not at school at all i WANTED to be at school i just could not find one bc our school system is so cute like tha #(basically every school is at capacity and the local school that has a guaranteed place for me would have been an all boys or girls 😭) #but i miraculously found and got into this school and miraculously made it work so well for me socially and now academically #it's also a good time to get back into school for my education bc any later and it woulda been pretty bad for all my certifications and uni #ive missed out on so much maths that its not worth it to me to try and catch up but my teacher knows that #but ive always hated maths regardless i only ever understood it for the first half of yr 7 then my attendance dropped #and after my recent exam i decided to try harder at school. but i still got an A on the exam i didn't study for!! academic weapon fr #i'm just idk thinking back to myself in the past few years #and how hopeless it all felt. but i got out of it!! i beat the depression and social anxiety and found a good place and made the most of it #and during the peak of my depression i remember i went out someplace near my old school and panicked so so badly about seeing #kids from my old school. and the friends at the time didnt really check on me when i went to shake and cry in a side street lmao #i kept the best of that friendgroup and have better friends now. but anyway now i take a bus each morning with some kids from my old school #and you see these hands? they look like they're shaking to you? #anyway yeah it's just cool i got to this point :) i really had no hope for so long but now i have a life i'm living and a future i'm build #--ing towards #which is funny i just decided some random day last november after watching some better call saul 'huh actually lawyer would b pretty cool' #and will i get there? we'll see but i do have hope now

[disasterhimbo]

Something that doesn’t get talked about enough I think is that when you’re in survival mode for an extended period of time, when you try to get out, it’s extra hard because you haven’t been building yourself a future gradually and continuously like you normally would, and now you have to try to do a lot of it all at once when you’re already tired and struggling.

#my post #original post #personal #a secret third kind of post #depression #mental illness #mental health #suicidal ideation #I’ve just been eating and sleeping and trying not to kill myself #I don’t have a plan #(for my life I mean. or even the near future) #if there was a future ready and waiting for me this would be so much easier #vicious cycle

[gillianthecat]

Is/Was tumblr giving anyone else a notification when someone you followed posted for the first time in a while? Like this:

It was doing that for me for a couple weeks, although now it seems to have stopped. A short-lived experiment? Or perhaps no one has posted after a long enough lag. (It seems unlikely to have been a bug, but I don't know enough about coding so maybe?)

It was sort of an interesting idea, to make sure I didn't miss someone I hadn't seen in a while, but on the whole I'm glad it's gone/hope it goes. I'd like my notifications to be all about me, thank you 👸🏻The dashboard is the place for other people. Otherwise it gets confusing.

Anyway, I haven't posted in a while (12 days), so perhaps this post will show up in your notifications!

#that wasn't the only reason I haven't posted much lately #but it did add a little additional pressure for my first post back #i felt self conscious that everyone would get a notification about whatever random dumb shit i was thinking about #but now if lots of people see this at least it answers my question #i haven't been watching BL recently or indeed any shows or movies at all #been trying to focus a lot on school #which i have been! it's been the intellectually most difficult semester so far #so the focusing has been decent recently but the actual results haven't been great #especially since i started the semester not at all on top of things #but it means that I haven't had anything to say about bl #and I've been feeling weird about posting random stuff about my life or what I'm learning #like people aren't interested #and bad about not responding to various things I've been tagged in #i even have some drafts for those i just need to finish. but it hasn't been a priority #anyways here's the update no one asked for. i may or may not post more in the near future. #tmblr life #gillianthecat's life #rambling in the tags

[enrapture]

stay alive.

#the happiest people can be going through shit #the saddest people #the meanest of people #all walks of life you could never know what they’re dealing with #life is so hard so fucking difficult #I didn’t think I would be here #so many years before this one I didn’t think I would be alive at all #honestly? I didn’t think I’d live to see today a few days ago even just the other day I felt it #it’s really hard to stay tonight even with a good thing like meeting my favorite band right now on the 31st #internally I won’t share these feelings and thoughts allowed y’all don’t care about that or even wanna hear what I feel and what I think #but yeah #I just wanna share this because I’m struggling with it sand sometimes it’s a good and bad thing to keep finding reasons to stay #but you should stay because you want to be here to experience life with others and to help others #that life wouldn’t be life without you and you would want to see your near future self happy among your childhood past near past selves #evolve and be happy you’re staying and relive your childhood and grow as a person #you’re meant to be here if no one else tells you that #means a lot being heard and understood #staying is just a. little difficult rn #I never thought I’d make it this far and I don’t like the act of growing and I don’t like how life is a lot of the time #but that’s a story for another time if desired and shared #I’m gonna hop off now #bye #internally I won’t share these thoughts #these feelings aloud because y’all don’t care y’all don’t wanna hear about the dark parts that stay and stick in my head or pass through #but I just wanted to share it for those that needed a sign to stay #to stay because I too am one of those that could use it #spread love #be there for those that struggle #life is so fucking hard #take it one day at a time

[orcelito]

Oh tho. Despite being at a concert at a bar with easy opportunity to have drinks. I looked at the menu as if I was gonna order anything, then thought to myself, "You don't drink anymore, hon" and went "Oh, right" then just got water.

So???? Given how matter of fact that thought was, maybe I really am fully sober from alcohol now. Interesting thought.

#speculation nation #cant say im fully sober all the time completely bc i may or may not have done a weed or two in recent weeks #but that's neither here nor there #well ok it is in fact here. in this conversation. bc it's relevant. #i just dont want to drink alcohol anymore. period. even when i was having a breakdown i didnt want to drink. #and even when i was at a concert venue having the time of my life. i didnt want to drink. #the thought of alcohol just does not appeal to me anymore. not with the connotations it has now. #but in lieu of that. i gave a little edible or two a try. since i already knew i fucking hated smoking weed #still wont do that. but a little recreational dabbling in a social setting... yea ok ive done a little #not interested in doing this kind of thing alone tho. or even regularly. #but for special occasions. in a social setting. since i dont drink alcohol anymore. this is a Way To Go. #alcohol ment/ #drugs ment/ #i think ill b posting about the drinking thing less now. bc this felt pretty conclusive to me. #ive been wavering on it for 2 and a half months now. unsure whether it was just the trauma and grief of it all. #i mean. it is. that's precisely why i am so suddenly no longer drinking. #but time is going by and ive had several opportunities to drink. times i wouldve taken in the past. #but my heart solidly told me No. i didnt want that. #and ykno what even with 0 alcohol i had the time of my fucking life at that concert. #26 going on 27 and suddenly completely sober because my dad died from alcoholism. #one of those things where. well. drinking isnt good for you anyways. #so if i dont wanna do it. well thats actually better for me in the end. so might as well lean into it. #idk whether this will be an actual longterm thing. but i suppose i'll find out! #for now at least. i have no interest in drinking. and so it shall remain in the near future.

[mymarifae]

i hope everyone's prepared for me to become the most annoying person ever in 13 more hours

#i'm going to cry i'm going to listen to this and just start fucking sobbing #this song is so special to me you don't understand and i'll never be able to put it into words properly but like #orangestar's music. is important to me. i relate a lot A LOT to the feelings he incorporates into every song #those feelings of like.. struggling. and sadness and wondering what the point of it all is but trying so hard to stay positive #trying So Hard to see the beauty in the world even when it all seems like fucking garbage #and to stay hopeful for the future. to continue building your own life rather than letting society shove you into a monotonous routine #it's just... so so important to me. putting my relationship with music into words is hard but it's more or less how i keep myself sane LOL #daybreak frontline is a particularly beautiful song. one of my favorites. #and the thing about having these vocaloid songs that you hold near and dear to your heart and then they get covered in prsk is like #well all of the kids are like. very important characters to me. they make me happy i love them lots!! #so when they sing these songs that i've loved for years and like grew up on. that just makes them even more special 🫶🏾 #and i think this song is like. peak vbs. this is the kind of music they do best this is where they all shine the brightest #also the art looks very very very very pretty. #see what i mean. i am going to be so fucking annoying about this forever this iseverything. to me.

[milo-is-rambling]

I am so high I love you dabs I love you big bong rips I love you huge heavy bong I love you only having 20 dollars to my name and no plans but getting high and ignoring it I love you oh no I’m thinking about it

#I want to take an ice cold shower and scream and smoke a whole pack of cigarettes and lock myself in a closet for 72 hours in the dark with #no distractions to figure out what I actually want to do with the rest of my life and to face every bad thought I have and struggle to #ignore even years later like ugh I just need to be at the bottom of the ocean floating sinking alive dead in between for like a month and #then pull me back up and either I’ll be normal or I’ll be so fucked up they just put me back in there #like either way I am vibing at the bottom of the ocean (I have been desperately imaging a sensory deprivation tank all day) #(put me in a fucking sensory deprivation tank until something in my fucking brain rewires and I get worse or better than I am now this #inbetween stage is fucking killing me like what do you mean I’m not a horrible person but also what do you mean I struggle every day but I’m #normal but I have things about me other people don’t and alienate me to the point of near total isolation but also this is just how humans #are and I need to take meds and actively struggle to fit into a perfect little box of what a person should be like god damn I am so tired of #getting better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and I’m miserable and I’m happy and I’m sobbing and #I know a month from now I’ll be depressed again or I’ll be the best I’ve ever been and it’s so fucking horrible to be in the middle stage #where I actually have to step up and admit shit is wrong and face it like why can’t I just lay in bed forever until I become the bed and not #like get a job and have a future. ugh. depression is so fucked esp bc most things in my life are normal I guess or like easier than my #friends like we all have seperate challenges but I’m the only one still living off their parents (ha. parent. forgot for a second.) and the #only thing wrong with my life is the mental health issues but I won’t step up and deal with it bc I feel like I’ve been depressed for so #long I like fucked up the foundational shit and like I know it’s fine but also I feel so behind and I feel like I’ll be behind and unhappy #forever even when im happy I know the next depressive episode is right around the corner and I give up again. ugh. I hate knowing that’s #what’s wrong with me but still not having the energy to step up and fix it. im so pathetic I want to cry. my brain is me but my brain is #destroying my life. anyways. im high and now im sad and have dry mouth. I think im gonna drink ice water and change into shorts+lay in bed)

[mothmvn]

looking back on this year is so fucking bizarre. so many things changed in SUCH quick succession for me - the war started not 3 weeks after my partner and I moved into our first apartment together! we moved our stuff in, 2 weeks later went for a trip to a friend's cottage deep in the woods, drove back into mobile connection to the news of "dpr" /"lpr" getting recognised by russia, and two days later... the war. (from afar - thankfully - of course - but not really...) we hadn't even unpacked fully yet. I forgot it was so so soon after .

was looking back on daily thumbnail drawings today, the speed of events hit me like a truck, seeing the drawings from those days feels like acid pouring over my heart. all black and red and black and red.

 (i’m 7 time zones away, so the news was the night of 23/02 for me. did not sleep that night. nor for the next week. nightmare time. )

#personal #ukraine #instead of starting hrt i spent 2 weeks fully in another world and 2 months finding a ''new normal'' ''sane'' balance #which was only possible once they fucked off from near kyiv - my area - & we confirmed the safety of everyone we know #nightmare time. nightmare time. nightmare time. #this year should have been GOOD. the changes scheduled to happen were GOOD CHANGES. i had a handle on my life and my future #i had a plan. i had made decisions. i had made plans. i had a path to follow. and it was all bouleversé in one week #hrt did happen a couple months back but. god. overshadowed is too gentle a word. does it even mean anything? can it? how can it possibly #this huge personal change is HUGE and yet the . war. the timing. theyre happening side by side.

[cerasum-chrysanthes]

"We will help you with medical and psychological issues and also if there are problems with other people we can try to help with that too :)"

Oldest dude in our course threatens someone and insults and annoys others. We ask for help what to do.

"That's not our issue, that's a private matter."

It happened there during break time, tho :/ Yes, if we come and ask for help you offered help before. But suddenly not.

It wasn't me who was threatened, but the guy who got threatened is a rly good dude. Our little group gets along really well. I will always defend and fight for my friends.

#defend and fight* as in beaurocratically. Can't literally fight someone since I don't wanna ruin my life #but apparently people who are older and should be much wiser don't think that far ahead #and just fucking threaten others #'the people at my old job were so mean to me :(' no fucking wonder!!! You are a bitch. You insult others even those who are nice to you. #Get FUCKED #i tried being nice and understanding. but he literally tried to forbid me to spend breaktime in our classroom talking to someone #we are allowed to be in class or anywhere during break. im allowed to talk to people in a normal volume #he sits in the corner and is bothered by people existing near him #but then he spends his time during class watching videos on his phone without headphones??? #bro we are. working rn. #turn that shit off and pay attention and maybe learn something #'im so scared i wont be making it through to the training because im so bad :(' why arent u paying attention then!!! #instead of complaining about other people existing around you and watching dumb videos. #he is over 50 i think almost 60. he behaves like a brat. #luckily i wont see much of him anymore in the future. #if he tries to follow me around to insult me like he did with the other guy today #there are always enough people as witnesses and im around my group a lot anyway #even if the socialworkers there act like it isnt their issue. if i complain enough and if the behaviour of others is affecting me and other #then i will absolutely make it their problem until they solve it

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 3 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. ( need to edit this later because I'm exhausted right now)

word count: 3.5k

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If the intruder had made another noise then hadn’t been able to hear it. Not over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dread washed over you, the blood in your veins turning to ice as you were struck with a sudden realization: 

Either you fought for your life, here and now. . . or you died. 

Your throat locked up, and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything at all. Shouldn’t you be screaming like a madwoman? Had he seen you undress for the night? Had he been lurking in a corner or a closet as your attendants had run your bath? Was everybody in on this? 

Every nervous smile and antsy movement came rushing back to you. Betrayal slapped you in the face so hard that it stunned you back into motion. 

The knife that you had hidden away in your room after breakfast was shorter than you would have liked- minimal reach, meaning you’d have to get up close to the attacker. Still, you somehow managed to kick the sheets off of you in order to lurch to the side before he was able to brandish his own blade. You heard it cut through the air, the loud tearing of the pillow where your head had just been perched a millisecond ago echoed through the pitch black room. 

You moved towards the door, bare feet against ice cold marble, and finally began to open your mouth to scream for whatever guards were sure to be stationed near the guest quarters. 

“I wouldn’t bother,” The man’s voice sneered, a smile evident in his voice. “No one will save you.” 

There it was. The truth. 

Everyone hated you, but you already knew as much. There was very little you could do in your nightdress- no way you could properly fend off an attacker without any shoes on your feet. Even worse, you had no shield. 

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, raising the knife so that you were holding it defensively in front of you. You hated how pathetic you sounded with your voice shaking like that. Still, your hands held strong. 

Under immense trauma and stress like this your body had gone into autopilot. Again and again your training has been hammered into you. You must remain calm. Act with surety. 

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. 

You waited, listening to see if he was getting close to you. The bed creaked, the attacker stepping into a single ray of silver light that had escaped through the blinds.

 It was a guard. 

So this was planned. You should have known enough. You would have thought that Feyd would have been the one to orchestrate the whole thing, but his earlier warning had made it clear to you that he hadn’t wanted you to perish. At least not like this. 

He didn’t say anything else to you before his arm came barrelling down. You stepped to the side, almost tripping over the fabric of your dress in your panic. The cutter blade struck the wall behind you, and in the man’s blind fury he left his side completely defenseless. You surged forward, the knife tightly clutched in your hand, and brought it down hard on his arm. He cried out, the sound nearly deafening you as it echoed off of the empty walls. 

“You bitch!” His weapon clung against the ground. 

Still, his uninjured arm struck against the side of your face. The world tilted beneath you as you stumbled backwards, your spine cracking against the dresser drawer as your knees buckled beneath you. Pain. It felt like he had just drilled a hole clean into the side of your face. No one had ever landed a blow to you like that. The guard took advantage of your stunned state, moving forward so that he could wrap his meaty hands around your throat. 

You needed to use the Voice. He had to stop. . . but his hands were squeezing too tightly. Your lips moved but little more than fearful croaks escaped you. Tears pooled in your eyes at the pressure, at the pain, at the fucking fear that was threatening to swallow you up whole, whole, whole until you were nothing. Your nails scrapped against any bit of skin that you could find. He hissed in pain, using the weight of your own body against you as he slammed you against the dresser where he currently had you pinned. 

You kicked out your legs, desperately trying to find a foothold so that you could wrench yourself upwards. If you were in pants then you might have been able to save yourself, but your bare feet slid out against the loose fabric pooled underneath you. The man had struck when you had been most vulnerable. He was killing you. 

Your eyes widened, the tears finally spilling past the thick wall of your lower lashes. He was killing you. He was killing you. He was killing you. 

With the ringing filling your ears, you hadn’t heard the commotion outside of your door. Only when it slammed open, light from the hall flooding in, did you realize that someone had been alerted. The hands around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a deep, wheezing breath in. 

“Help me.” But you couldn’t reach the correct frequency, not when your vocal cords were so damaged. 

Still, with bleary eyes you stared up at whoever’s large form filled the doorway. Begging them to save you. 

And so they did. 

The world just fell away, like ink on wet paper- it all bled around him. All sound and sight ebbed away, the only thing visible in his rage being your tear filled eyes. Feyd had seen looks of pure terror on the faces of men he had bested countless times before. It never meant much to him. The lives he had taken never weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never cared much for anything aside from his own ambitions. He had goals- found minor joy in sharpening his mind and his blades. 

 He had carried his memories of you from childhood with him into adulthood, each glance and nervous smile acted as a balm that soothed any future traumas or worries. He knew that one day he would be standing exactly where he was right then, with you within arms length. 

This wasn’t what he had pictured throughout the years though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently witnessing. 

Women bled the same as men did. He never felt overly-noble when it came to protecting them, no matter how weak or frail they looked. Feyd understood that it was survival of the fittest. People lost their lives every day in much crueler ways than suffocation. . . 

But the guard had his hands around your throat, and in that moment Feyd no longer saw the proud woman that had managed to nearly knock him off of his feet earlier. No, in that moment you looked just like that six year old little girl he had always cared for so dearly. You looked exactly how he had left you- scared, fragile and innocent. 

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t quite sure what love was, but he could imagine that it must be what he felt for you. Losing you was an impossibility, he’d never let it happen. He couldn’t. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

An eerie sort of calm befell the room, the only sounds being your shaky breaths as you tried to fill your aching lungs with air. The guard didn’t answer him, only stared with fearful eyes up at the Na-Baron. He was looking Death right in the face. 

“Was it your idea to attack her in the middle of the night like this?” Feyd took another step into the room, which had the guard scooting back awkwardly on his knees. “You were going to kill her in the dark like she was no better than an animal.” 

He hadn’t even been brave enough to face you with the lights on. 

Feyd, without turning around, used his foot to close the door behind him. Once again the room plummeted into pitch black darkness. There was a shuffling sound in front of him, the man trying to get to his feet as fast as he could to put some distance between the two of them, but it was too late. Feyd followed the source of the noise and reached out, grabbing the man around the stomach before sinking his blade deep into his neck. A sick wet gurgling noise caused you to let out a small cry. Still, the blue eyed man wouldn’t be offput by your disgust. 

He had to pay for what he did to you. 

And so he dislodged the knife easily, the sharp blade gliding through muscle and skin, and then stabbed again. And again. And again. The guard moaned in pain, trying his hardest to buck and fight Feyd off of him. Even when the man’s legs gave out from under him Feyd followed him, falling to his knees so that he could continue his ruthless assault. 

The Na-Baron grit his teeth, eyes wide as his knife continued to find purchase in the corpse beneath him. The bastard had caused you to suffer. He had hurt you. Feyd didn’t stop there either. He stood up and made his way out into the hallway. 

The rage had made a home somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with so much anger. He needed. . . he needed to make everyone atone for what they had done to you. Did they think that he would approve of their lame assassination attempt? 

“You heard everything and did nothing!” He screamed out at the other guards who stood in the hallway. 

His hands were coated in blood, his black shirt and night pants soaked through, clinging to his skin. All they could do was watch him, unable to say anything at all. Feyd knew that they could not deny his claims. They had all been in on this from the start. 

And so he raised his blade again and did not stop until every man in the hallway was long-dead. 

Not a word had been said since the incident. You didn’t even complain when Feyd had all but dragged you through the halls, rather you followed him as emotionless as a doll. The blood of the fallen marred your arms and crisp white nightdress. It was as if your body had gone into auto pilot. Your mind was lost to you, as you felt as though you were floating off somewhere far away. You no longer existed at all. 

You were just a hollow shell now, in a state of shock that had you shutting down completely. 

Where was he taking you? You didn’t know, nor did you particularly care anymore. 

The guard’s final breaths had sounded wet, probably due to the blood in his lungs. The blade hitting bone. His moans of pain. Those sounds still echoed in your ears, and you were positive that you’d never be able to get them out of your head. 

You’d never witnessed anything like that in all of your life. Someone had been killed mere feet away from you. And yet you weren’t sorry for him. You searched yourself for even an inkling of pity and came up short. The bastard got what he deserved. 

“Why did you have to do that in front of me?” You managed to mumble out. 

Tonight would soon become a memory that would never abandon you. Even in old age you were certain that you would be able to recall every gut wrenching detail of tonights events. When the door leading out to the doorway had opened and illuminated the room, Feyd’s sins had been revealed in full to you. 

The guard was unrecognizable. He no longer looked human to you, his insides turned out. Your betrothed had quite literally gutted your attacker in front of you. 

Your bare feet tracked blood on the floors, the long skirts of your nightgown soaked with another man’s blood. 

“I killed him for you. I wanted you to experience every moment of retribution.” He didn’t turn around to face you as he spoke. Instead he kept his eyes on the hallway, the pupils of his pale blue eyes blown out wide. 

You cast a look down at the hand that was holding your arm in a vice-like grip. He was shaking. It was almost as though he could feel your eyes on his hand. His trembling fingers dug into your soft skin. 

Feyd released you once the two of you were alone in a room together, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. You stood there, motionless as you followed the line of his jaw with your eyes. The muscle there ticked a few times as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He was still agitated, you could tell. 

“You’re starting to bruise.” He motioned towards his own neck. 

Your hand flew up to your throat, poking at the tender skin. It felt hot under your touch- sore too. It would serve as a reminder of how close you had come to death. Tonight you felt nothing. . . but what about tomorrow? Would you ever be able to sleep again? 

“How did you know that I was being attacked?” Your suspicion was beginning to build back up again. There were just too many coincidences. 

“You think I had something to do with this?” He sounded agitated. There was no hint of his usual sarcastic lilt in his tone. 

You’d never seen Feyd like this before. He actually seemed. . . offended but your gentle accusation. 

“You can’t answer my question with yet another question. How did you know I was being attacked?” You might have been in a state of immense shock but you still had some wits about you. 

You were locked in a room with a murderer, and the possibility that he had a hand in your assassination attempt was high. Once again you found yourself utterly defenseless. If he tried to attack you now there was no way that you’d be able to defend yourself. Not only that but your throat was wrecked. You could barely talk at the current moment, meaning you couldn’t even depend on the Voice if you needed to. You were as helpless as a child in the wake of Feyd’s power. 

“I see you in my dreams sometimes.” 

Anyone else would have called him insane, but you were used to Paul’s dreams. They’d been getting even more vivid as he aged. So Feyd had a dream that you were in danger? You found it difficult to believe that he would go out of his way to come to your rescue. Still, here he was. 

“Is that why you warned me today at breakfast?” The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. He’d known something was going to happen since last night. 

“Yes,” He tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Something told me to go and see you.” 

You didn’t have it in yourself to question him further. You’d have to be satisfied with his answers. What you really wanted was a bath and a fresh change of clothes. One last look at your soiled clothes had your nose wrinkling in disgust. The smell of blood was thick in your nose- so strong that the iron scent almost smelled sweet. You gagged outwardly, putting your hands on your knees as you suddenly dry heaved. 

“You realize that he couldn’t be left alive after what he had done, don’t you?” 

Of course you did. That didn’t make it any better though. Your fingers stuck together, caked in blood, as you balled them into fists at your sides. 

“Bath.” Was all you said, already looking around the room that you assumed was his living quarters for any sign of a tub. 

He didn’t make any complaints as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself. Feyd gave you the time to process everything, didn’t knock on the door even once as the minutes ticked by. You stayed in the water until your fingers pruned and rubbed your skin until it was raw. Blood was everywhere. Under your nails, between your toes- it had even soaked through your dress and now caked your lower legs and thighs. 

You threw on a thin cotton robe you found neatly folded on a small towel rack, tying it tightly around your waist before you built up the courage to face your fiance again. 

“Take me back to my room.” You were eager to fall asleep. 

You’d been through too much. The thought of having to be conscious was tiring in itself. If you could close your eyes and sleep for the next ten years then you would. 

You missed your home. You missed your parents and Paul. You missed stability and security. Your life felt lost to you now. 

“This is your room now.” He was laying on the bed, already in a change of clothes. He seemingly took a bath himself while you had locked yourself away. There was no trace of gore left on him now. 

Your mouth went dry, palms pooling with sweat. Surely you were understanding him incorrectly. 

“You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room with you. We aren’t married.” There was absolutely no way your parents would approve of something like this. 

“I don’t trust anyone besides myself with your safety.” 

You didn’t trust anyone. Especially not Feyd. 

“Why should I be expected to sleep with you? I don’t feel comfortable-” 

“I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you again. Let that pile of bodies act as a warning to anyone else that tries. That’s why you should be expected to stay here with me. Get in the bed.” He seemed tired. Aggitated. 

“No.” You held strong. Never in your life had you slept in the same room as a man, let alone someone like Feyd-Rautha. He’d sooner kill you in your sleep then anyone else would. 

“Come here.” His tone caused you to jump. 

You had to bite your tongue as you approached him, sitting down awkwardly on the bed before you finally succumbed to his wishes. The bed was softer than your own, which you immediately envied. The soft mattress enveloped you, and all at once the tiredness you hadn’t felt until then finally sank in. 

You didn’t put up much more of a fight. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own accord. Feyd was watching you, turned on his side so that he could get a better look at you. It was then, for the first time ever, that you fully noted how beautiful he was. Up close like this he was even more striking. Blue eyes, full lips and pale, flawless skin. 

One thing that went unnoticed by you was the fact that Feyd didn’t turn the lights off. 

Without having to ask. . . he didn’t turn the lights off. 

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ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

@elf-punk @shitfuckeryclownverse @mydarlingelvis @heartarianagran @ohdearmaggie @chalametism @killingboredom @obsessedvibee @avidreader73 @softboo @tedcruzumakii @luminnara @narniansmagic @torchbearerkyle @ziggy-stardust-world @tian-monique @adoxra @zz-snow-zz @tiredsleepyhead @icontrolthespice @itsparksjoyhuh @verveta345 @shegatsby @zae5 @ertepla @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @lotus-888 @meetmeatyourworst @moonchild-artemisdaughter @abswifey @flower-frog @auroranodyssey @forgedfromthestars @moony-artemis @juliskopf @moonsoulk @serrendiipty @atrxidxs @the-ruler-of-death @mintoblobo @just-pure-trash @randominterwebthings @springholland @so-dramatic1 @ashy-kit @aslutforscarletwitch99 @sofia-013 @gamorxa @ricecakeslove @alexandrainlove @selfishlittlebeing @ceres27

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune x you #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha fic #austin butler fic

[superhumanfoods]

We need to talk about Sending Rocks.

You probably don't understand what that means. That's fine. It's a weird little example I made up, and I'll explain.

I'm the creator of the near-future cyberpunk podcast SINKHOLE. SINKHOLE is weird, short-form, nearly impossible to explain to people, and utterly unmonetizable. It's also got a very healthy listenership for something so esoteric. (I promise season three is coming; life just keeps happening, constantly.)

Because of that, I have a reputation as a weird little indie creator. And if I were to run a crowdfund, I could set up a donation tier that was literally just

"I will go outside, find a rock on the ground, and mail it to you."

and most people would find that funny and charming. I think, at worst, people might find it puzzling, but they'd still opt in out of curiosity.

A lot of you would let me send you rocks.

Now we need to talk about the re: Dracula crowdfund- about the zines. A handful of people got very upset about the perceived lack of quality present in the zines.

That caught me off-guard. To me, a zine should always be kind of janky. You should be able to tell exactly how far down the pile your specific zine was based purely on how committed to hitting the fold lines the person folding it was. Zines are handmade and should feel handmade.

So it seemed like people were complaining about the zines being zines, and I didn't get it.

And then I realized something: it's not about the zines. It's about the fact that they were coming from Tal Minear.

If Tal Minear ran a crowdfund and set up a donation tier that was just

"I will go outside, find a rock on the ground, and mail it to you."

I would give it about a day before someone found a way to turn that specifically into a talking point about how Tal doesn't respect the audio drama community.

Tal Minear cannot send rocks. The zine was never the problem. The way people think about Tal is the problem.

We need to talk about how this community keeps trying to reinvent classism based on nothing but vibes and follower numbers.

I'm going to tell you something you already know but probably don't want to admit: the independent audio drama scene is to the independent film scene what a fish tank in a dentist's office is to the ocean.

The biggest names in this community are just a step up from being nobodies.

If you went outside right now and spoke to the first person you saw on the street, the only non-BBC fiction podcasts you would have any realistic hope of them knowing are Welcome to Night Vale or Archive 81- and the latter only because it got turned into a Netflix show, which means that they might not even realize it was a podcast first. There's also a chance they'll have heard of The Magnus Archives, but it's not a guarantee by any means.

Now, this last one I've mentioned to a few people, and was surprised to get a lot of pushback. There seems to be this thought that no, of course everyone has heard of The Magnus Archives.

No. No, man.

You're doing the Homestuck thing. I hate to hurt you like this, but you're doing that thing people did where they assumed everyone had at least heard of Homestuck.

There are people in your life that have never heard of Homestuck.

The Magnus Archives was a mini-zeitgeist in which the fandom engaged in wild speculating, plentiful shipping, and lots and lots of aligning yourself with a specific Fear.

And it was never as big as Homestuck.

I'm sorry. Jonny Sims is not a household name. That's simply the truth.

He is also in this fish tank with us. As far as I am aware, he has not escaped to begin acting in feature films or begun voicing characters in massive video game franchises. Slay the Princess was pretty cool. It's not exactly fucking Assassin's Creed, though.

He doesn't even have a Wikipedia page.

And notice how my metric for breakout success involved going to other, better-known mediums? That's because a breakout success in this community involves getting a blurb on Buzzfeed or in Cosmo. There is no audio fiction podcasting elite. The idea is hilarious.

Even Markiplier doesn't count, because he's YouTube royalty. He's not famous because of The Edge of Sleep. The same is true of any celebrity. They're visitors. They didn't get their break here.

Tal Minear is not your landlord. They're a slightly bigger fish in the same tank as you that likes to poke around in the muck a bit more than you personally enjoy. And, well, you cannot argue that Tal's position as showrunner of re: Dracula justifies framing them that way.

Because the thing is, I'm not just the creator of SINKHOLE. I'm also the showrunner and head writer of Mayfair Watchers Society as of season two. Showrunning and writing is most of my income these days. Tal and I are very comparable in terms of the material power we wield. This isn't a secret.

And yet, a lot of you would still let me send you rocks.

Now the actually important thing.

We need to talk about how this exact illusion, this fanciful idea that there are real industry goliaths in this fishbowl, has already been used to justify the mistreatment of marginalized people.

When Tonia Ransom brought up the issues she had with how the AnonymousAD tumblr had characterized her crowdfunding campaign, this is the reason why people felt they could dismiss and ignore her. Because yes, she's a black woman speaking out about having been wronged, but she's also a "Big Creator," and therefore it evens out.

It doesn't even out.

A lot of the most successful creators you know in this space still have day jobs. I spent yesterday and today doing inventory at my retail job. I spent hours poring over shitty little badly printed tags and biting back swear words because our owner will not let us close, so there were still customers in the store, actively buying the things we were trying to count.

This Us vs Them shit has got to stop. It's nothing. It's a parody and a sham. If you tried to explain it to your grandmother, she'd give you the exact same reaction as if you had tried to tell her about drama in the Homestuck fandom.

Because it's the same.

And you don't get to use it to justify being shitty to someone who you know perfectly well would deserve your humility and understanding if you weren't pretending they were your boss.

Who can send rocks is not and has never been a reflection of real power or privilege. Deciding someone cannot send rocks is just a convenient excuse to disregard their perspective when it makes you angry or uncomfortable.

At best, it's tilting at windmills. At worst, it is punishing your peers for daring to defend themselves or speak out against injustice while being marginally more successful than you.

#audio drama #enough of this #it's been going on for a while and getting progressively worse #none of this Big Name Fan shit #this is fandom toxicity #and we're not even a goddamn fandom

[girlgerard]

i’ve been thinking a lot about gerard’s character they developed in the last leg of this tour and the way i believe it really solidified what we might have coming for us in the future.

it’s really sweet, if you look in the comments of some of the videos from brisbane and osaka, you can see people who’ve obviously been my chem fans for at least 15 years saying things like ‘i’ve watched every video from this tour and this is the first show where i really saw the spark come back’ and ‘that’s the gerard way i remember’ and other cheesy shit like that. and the thing is they’re totally right!

this whole tour developed more fluidly in intensity and meaning than in any of their previous gigs. mcr has always been a band to change with their time and creative drive, but this was a different type of transition to me. you could see as characters started to be built, from gerard DIY’ing his own costumes in europe to increasingly meaningful outfits with whole backstories in the USA all the way to one consistent character with a uniquely terrifying stage presence in the last leg.

that last character, at least to me, is totally gripping. she’s unexplained, she’s scary as hell, she’s near-undead, she has this commanding presence gerard hasn’t really done since early-mid black parade. in every single performance they’re so in-character and it’s such a BLAST

importantly, this character also showed up in the shortest, least-publicized part of the tour. imo she wasn’t meant for cameras, really.

to me it’s so clear that she’s a result of gerard earnestly solidifying where they might want their next artistic endeavors to go - that kind of serious direction, maybe even that character specifically.

he’s talked about how he always has stage characters that reflect his music and, broadly, things they’re working through in their life. the revenge stage character was a mix of both demo lovers which can have a ton of different interpretations, the patient was a joan-esque personification of grief and existentialism, party poison was a pop-art way of dealing with your own artistic/literal death. it makes me wonder why this character, the only truly consistent character this whole tour, came about, and if it’s related to gerard’s nightly diatribes on war and later-tour statements on (presumably) queer/trans rights.

it also makes me think that we have a lot coming in the future. a character that solid and a direction so suddenly bottlenecked into such a specific concept, such a mychemicalromance concept, especially out of a tour that was originally supposed to be a casual celebration of music, i think points towards something new.

#stoned as hell and rhinking about her #been a while sinfe i wrote a massive fucking rant but here we go #gerard way #my chemical romance

[heartfullofleeches]

OKG OMG CATMAN DILF PRACTICING HIS SIGNATURE OVER AND OVER FOR GOLDENRETRIEVER READER ASKIN FOR AN AUTOGRAPH- OMGOMG

Yan Ex-Idol Catman + Fan Golden Retriever Hybrid Reader

-

He's done it a million times before. This should be easy-

"Maybe it's time for me to move again."

Moving cost outweigh the humiliation. He can always find another house near a park or school. One so close to either is hard to find around these parts, but he'll manage. The neighbors, on the other hand... It'd be hard to find anyone like that sweet mutt next door.

"Shit...." The feline scratches behind his ears - molars nawing at the plastic heart glued to the pen grasped in his fist. Torn scraps of notebook paper flutter to the carpeted floor around him as he props his arms up on the table - written signatures of differing scale and quality penned on each. If he could rewind the clock a decade or so - and used a pen with better ink, he'd have done it right the first time. All he had at he desk where the glittery pens his daughter left behind during her last visit. The kind that only seemed to work every other stroke. Had he really sunk so low to blame the inability to write his own name on a cheap pen? Why was he even doing this anyway? The day he quit, he swore he'd live his life for his fans no longer. Why go through all this effort now?

"Makariy!!!"

Fingernails claw at his front door. Makariy closes the notebook, tucking it beneath the couch cushions as he climbs up into the furniture. He pauses briefly to check his shirt for stains before speaking.

"It's open."

A gust of wind scatters more pages across the living room floor as the door is ripped out. While he may have hide the book, the physical evidence was still present. He brushes a few of the notes beneath the couch as you enter - trotting up to the coffee table where you drop a fatter stack of paper.

"I brought your mail, made you some lunch, and.... Are those?....."

Kneeling, you gather up some of the pages off the floor. The accelerating wag of your tail creates a small vacuum to which the remainder are sucked into. You snatch them up as well - bouncing on your heels from all the excitement coursing through your veins.

"Are these the signatures I asked you for?" Your voice comes out in quick exhalations - barely sparing a breath between each word. "I mean I only asked you for one, but I can have these too right?! Wait, are they for other people? I'm sorry for being greedy if they are, I just didn't think you'd actually do this for me! Thank you, thank you, thank you- Sir!

Makariy jumps up out of his seat as you bow at his feet. He pulls you off your knees, dragging you up onto the couch as he hears you digging underneath for the other scraps s he hid. "Hey, hey- What did I tell you about that Sir, shit. I'm just your neighbor, got it?

"I know, Si- Makariy. It's just not everyday you mean the lead singer for your favorite idol group. Let alone have him as your neighbor. I hope the food I brought will make up for my outburst."

You have to be conscious of it by now. Even you can't be this oblivious. If you continue to look at him with those eyes there's no way he'll be able to get out of this neighborhood anytime in the near future. There's no telling when the wonder in them will fade once you realize he's nothing like he was back then... He's not sure if his heart can take it.

"You're fine. Just stay for once instead of running off when I start eating. Why do you do that anyway?"

"Just trying to respect your privacy, Sir! Ack- I did it again, and didn't I....."

Oh well... Better to enjoy things while they last.

#Makariy my oc #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere #yandere hybrid #yandere drabble

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Home.

Pairing: Yandere!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (Spiderverse).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Spiderverse Spoilers, Non///Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Nonconsensual Touching, Emotional Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships, and Blood.

A Spiritual Continuation To This Drabble.

You were probably starting to blister.

It was hard to tell. Your body felt strange, your head filled with cotton and your thoughts still blurred into one foggy, vaguely panicked haze. You were numb, and aching, and wide awake, and waiting for the moment you could lie down on a cold, hard surface and curl up until you felt like yourself, again. That man – Miguel, you reminded yourself, the desperation in his voice as he’d muttered it to you still echoing in your mind – said it was a side-effect of traveling between dimensions, that you’d be fine as long as you didn’t mess with the ring of metal around your wrist, but you couldn’t seem to tightness in your throat, couldn’t seem to forget the glimpse of a bruising puncture mark you’d caught before forcing yourself to turn away from the bathroom’s only mirror.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been there, slumped against the tiled wall of a stranger’s shower stall, trying to make sense of what little you’d learned. It had to have been an hour, if not more, but the water was still as hot as it had been when you’d half-consciously gotten in, when you decided you could burn yourself out of this situation. A benefit of being dragged into the future against your will, you guessed. At least you’d never run out of hot water, while you were trapped here.

You sighed, letting your head lull forward, but you didn’t have much time to wallow in your self-pity. You heard the automated door slide open (there wasn’t a lock, you’d checked, and then checked again, and then checked again), and snapped up just in time to see Miguel stepping past the threshold, still wearing that strained, manic grin. It looked unnatural. If you hadn’t been so scared, if you didn’t already feel so vulnerable, you might’ve asked him to stop.

Reflectively, you scrambled for a towel before remembering that you weren’t in your own bathroom, that you weren’t even in your own dimension, and shrinking into yourself, doing what you could to hide yourself away from him without the aid of a proper barrier. “I— I’m not done, just give me—”

“Relax.” His tone was calm, but strict, only slightly muffled by the shirt he was already pulling over his head. You caught the edge of a jagged scar, an expanse of tan skin, before jerking away and training your eyes on the floor. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. We’re married, remember?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before stepping in front of you, momentarily cutting off your supply of scalding water. Unlike you, he seemed to want you to see him - standing just a little too close, holding himself just a little too tall, revealing just a little too much a little too quickly. You made a point of keeping your eyes on his face – or, as much as his face as you could see, anyway. The room you’d woken up in (his bedroom, you figured, despite how blank it’d been, how uncomfortable its bare walls and empty shelves had made you) had been dark, and his bathroom was no better. The lights had been dimmed to the point of near-total darkness, and you were starting to miss your apartment’s constantly flickering lights, your office’s blinding phosphorescents. You could only hope the rest of his dimension wouldn’t be so dark. You didn’t know what you would do if you had to spend the rest of your life stumbling around in the dark.

“We were married, you mean,” you mumbled, then shook your head. “Or, you were married to another version of me, I think? I’m sorry, I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around…” You paused, gesturing to your meager surroundings. “…around this.”

His smile took on a softer lull. “In another world, a version of me was married to a version of you. When that version of me died, I did what I could to fill the gap. It didn’t work out, but…” A hand on your shoulder, then your jaw. You flinched at the unearned contact, but he didn’t pull away. “It was good, for a while. We had a daughter, Gabriella, and we took care of each other.”

You managed a weak laugh. “It’s hard to believe I’d take meeting my husband’s doppelganger that well.”

“Yeah, it is.”

There was a short lapse of silence. You chose to ignore the bluntness of his response, the bitter taste that spread over your tongue. “Maybe I’ll meet my own version of you when I get back home. It seems like we can’t stop running into each other.” And then, with more than a note of genuine excitement. “I will be able to go back to my own dimension, right? No offense, but I’m already starting to feel a little homesick.”

“Eventually. We’re looking for another solution as quickly as we can, but for now, it’s important that you stay where you are.” The pad of his thumb ran over your cheek. “Just your presence here is saving millions of lives.”

With no small amount of hesitation and a pained smile of your own, you reached up, taking him by the wrist and pushing his hand back down to his side. In his defense, he didn’t put up a fight. You could’ve missed the way his grin wavered, the carnal shade of scarlet that flashed across his eyes, if not for the way the shadows flickered at the slightest disturbance. “But I’ll be able to go home when you’re done?”

“Eventually,” he reiterated. “I’ll be taking care of you, in the meantime.”

Slowly, reluctantly, you nodded, letting out a shaky breath.

It wasn’t like there was anything else you could do, right?

~

You felt like you were going blind.

Miguel had been paranoid – making excuses, offering half-baked explanations, changing the topic every time you found the confidence to push – but even he couldn’t keep you in his dark, empty bedroom forever, lest you grow bored enough to throw the fate of the multi-verse aside and start messing with the bolt of silver latched onto your wrist. You could see why he’d wanted to keep you locked up. The rest of his society (organization? foundation? glorified playground for anyone with a spider-aesthetic and a seemingly endless supply of bad one-liners?), unlike its founder, was a beacon of color and noise, of friendly faces and helpful people. You could see why it might’ve made the thought of going home that much more difficult, for someone who’d had a much gentler introduction to it than you.

You could see how it made the time you spent alone with Miguel seem that much darker, in comparison.

Currently, you were in a room you’d once heard one of the more brash Peter Parkers’ refer to as ‘Miguel’s Cave’ – the makeshift lab where he spent most of his time leering over holographic screens and growling at constantly malfunctioning technology you couldn’t so much as pretend to understand, sitting cross-legged next to a collection of well-beaten consoles, squinting at a book you could hardly make out in the dim light. You didn’t know much about him or his society, every detail pried out through either sheer force of will or gleaned from a combination of different half-explanations, but he seemed to be the default leader, the one responsible for making sure this operation didn’t fall apart at the seams. He was stressed, obviously, but you couldn’t seem to find it in yourself to feel bad for him, not when every new setback led to a new hole in the wall, another chair broken over his knee (hence why you were sitting on the floor). It was hard to feel pity for a man who could snap your neck with a flick of his wrist, no matter how often he promised he wasn’t going to hurt you.

When your vision started to blur and the knot of tension in the back of your skull turned from uncomfortable to aching, you let your attention drift to his constantly revolving screens, all showing another incomprehensible piece of another incomprehensible dimension. For a moment, your gaze caught on a scene that seemed out of place, featuring a girl no older than ten running happily toward whoever was holding the camera, but you moved on quickly. You’d already seen a few preteen spider-people, around the society. You wouldn’t be surprised if Miguel had a way of watching them after they’d returned to their own dimensions.

Your eyes fell on Miguel, next. He was in the state he seemed to revert to whenever he thought your back was turned – shoulders squared, eyes set into a stern glare, the points of his fangs just barely visible against his bottom lip. He looked angry, but then again, he always looked a little angry. You could only assume that whatever spider he’d gotten his powers from didn’t have a sense of humor, either.

Eventually, he glanced in your direction, his scowl immediately fading. You didn’t try to look away. You caught him staring at you often enough. If you were lucky, he’d realize how awful it could feel to know you were always being watched. “Need something?”

You shrugged, letting your head lull to the side. “Just wondering if you’ve made any progress.”

“Depends on what you want to call ‘progress’. Technically, we’re bringing in another dozen requites every day, but I don’t see the point in handing a watch to every—”

“Progress in my case, I mean,” you cut in, trying to keep your tone light. “Not that I don’t like it here! I’m just… a little anxious to get home, I guess. I’d just like to be able to check in – preferably without the multi-verse collapsing.”

It was quick, but you caught it. A quirk of his lips, a glint of annoyance quickly drowned out by schooled stoicism. He didn’t like it when you brought up leaving, but then again, he didn’t seem to like anything.

Rather than answer you, he sighed, pushing himself away from his consoles. He gestured for you to stand and, somewhat reluctantly, you pushed yourself to your feet, taking a tentative step close to him before a strong arm lashed out, wrapping around your waist and hauling you into his lap. You chuckled, shoving playfully at his shoulder, but when he didn’t relent, you didn’t tell him to let you go. It was just a habit, you told yourself, doing your best to brush it off. It was just a holdover from a past life, from the time he spent with another version of you. It was the least you could do to let him live out a few old, relatively innocent fantasies.

He moved to touch your cheek, but managed to hold himself back, opting to toy with the fabric of your collar, instead. “Have you ever thought about kids?”

You did what you could not to look at him, but when he was so close, when he’d made himself such an unignorable part of your now-limited world, it was hard to find a way past him. “Not really, no. Never had the time for it, and I was never in the right place.”

“That’s how I felt, before I met you.” His lips against your forehead, then the curve of your jaw. It was just a habit, you reminded yourself, more forcefully than you really had to. He wasn’t trying to make you this uncomfortable. “I never thought I’d stay up until sunrise icing cupcakes for a third grader’s birthday party either, but you made me want that kind of life. I would’ve gone to a million soccer games just to see you and Gabriella smile like that again. To me, you were always home.”

“Your version of me, you mean.” This time, you couldn’t make yourself sound anything but irritated. “You might’ve changed your mind, but I’m really not the little league type.”

You heard him mutter something in Spanish, low and throaty and entirely incomprehensible to you. There was sharp nip to the curve of your throat, a broad chest pressed against yours, and then, he was kissing you, his mouth crashing into yours before you could even try to protest. You tried to scream, to pull his hair and pry him off of you, but he only groaned in response, only forced himself closer – his tongue forcing its way past your and his hand wrapping around your neck as you thrashed against him. Frantically, desperate to just get him away from you, you lashed out blindly, racking your nails across his check with enough force to break the skin, to draw blood. That earned a reaction, but not the one you were looking for. Rather than release you, his hold on your throat only grew tighter, his breathing more ragged he picked you up and slammed you against his console, a dozen golden screens shuttering under the force of the collision. It wasn’t a groan, now, but a growl, deep and throaty and wanting. His fangs pierced your lips, the taste of metal and rust spilling over your tongue as—

“Miguel.”

Finally, he tore himself away from you, baring his teeth at Jesse where she stood in the lab’s doorway. She didn’t flinch, only crossing her arms over her chest and meeting his aggression with a deadpan stare. “There’s a situation on Earth-241.”

Blunt, snipped, pointed. Miguel’s response was no better. “Why didn’t you have Lyla alert me?”

“She couldn’t. Apparently, she’s been ordered not to bother you when you’re with (Y/n).” Her attention drifted to you, panting and bleeding and still pinned underneath Miguel. Jesse stiffened, then went on. “You sure this is safe, man?”

“Trust me. I’ve run the simulations, done the math, taken all the necessary precautions. The canon won’t be affected.”

“The canon’s not what I’m worried about.”

She didn’t offer any further explanation, exiting as abruptly as she’d appeared. Miguel waited until she was out of sight, out of earshot before sighing and letting go of your neck. With no strength left to hold yourself up, you sank to the floor, fighting the urge to tremble, to shrink into yourself, to cry until you weren’t choking on the taste of your own blood. Miguel only sighed, running his fingers over the red lines you’d carved into his cheek before typing something into his watch. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, a kaleidoscope of bursting color and blinding light spiraling into existence in front of him. A portal, one you’d see him disappear into a hundred times. A portal that could that you home, if you ever dredged up the courage to throw yourself into it. “Stay out of trouble until I get back.”

Blearily, as if in a daze, you watched from a distance as he stepped out of this dimension and into another, the portal spiraling shut a moment later. When he was gone and the lab had gone dark, you lowered yourself to the ground, curled into yourself, and shut your eyes, willing your heart to stop beating so quickly before it stopped beating altogether.

It was pathetic, but you couldn’t seem to think of anything else to do.

~

For the first time in as long as you could remember, you couldn’t feel anything at all.

You weren’t numb, because numbness would’ve meant there was still a tether between your mind and your body, a link between spirit and flesh. It didn’t feel like you were floating on air, or consumed by static, because it felt like nothing. The void was all-consuming, swallowing you whole and keeping you suspended in that space of unliving consciousness, awake but inactive, aware but unable to do anything more than lie there, breathe, and wait for it to be over. You felt nothing. You never wanted to feel anything again.

Except, Miguel’s venom wasn’t so merciful as to leave in that void permanently. You could already make out a bruising soreness in the side of your neck, the harsh sting of his nails burrowing into your thigh, the seating heat of his body against yours as he rutted into you like a wild animal, like a man crazed. Your body had been bent in on itself, your knees pressed into your chest and your ankles thrown over his shoulders – anything that might’ve stopped him from thrusting as deeply, as harshly as he wanted to forced and manhandled out of his way. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the words ‘mating press’ resurfaced, but you buried them as quickly as you could. You didn’t want to think about that. You didn’t want to think about anything.

But, you didn’t have a choice. He was talking again – in Spanish, at first, a breathy string of curses you’d picked up during your time with him, then your name, low and drawn out, distorted by low growls until it’d been reduced to a near-incoherent mantra that would only be broken when his breath hitched, catching as his cock twitched and throbbed inside of you. One of his hands fell away from your thigh, landing next to his head and supporting his weight as he brought himself that much closer to you, as his mouth found yours in a clumsy, messy kiss. You could taste your own blood on his tongue, his fangs. You could taste the venom that’d left you so vulnerable to him. It burnt more than it should’ve.

“Mi cielo.” The words were muffled, spoken against your as he fell lower – to your collarbone, struggling to speak between haphazard love-bites to your chest. “My love, my light, my—” A sharp breath, a violent thrust. “I love you. We— We’re going to be happy together, this time.”

It was all you could do to lift your head, to force your lips to move against the weight of his waning paralysis. Your voice was barely audible, cracked and fractured in all the worst ways, but it was clear. Even against the sound of his skin crashing against yours, against the screaming agony of your own violation, it was clear.

“Am… am I ever going home?”

For a moment, Miguel paused, his eyes flickering towards you.

Then, you felt him smile against your skin and, the first time, it didn’t seem quite so pained. “You are,” he muttered, straightening his back. “And you’re never leaving again.”

Then, without hesitation, without mercy, he drove his fangs into your throat. You tried, weakly but desperately, to dislodge him, to claw at his back, to dig your nails into whatever you could reach and tear, but it was futile. His venom was already in your blood, coursing through your veins, rendering you as helpless as you’d always felt, around him. Soon enough, your arms were limp and useless around where they’d been strung around his neck, and you were pulled back into that unmoving, unfeeling, uncaring state. You didn’t try to resist it, this time.

It wasn’t like there had ever been anything you could do to save yourself from Miguel, anyway.

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