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sobeautifullyobsessed · 1 year

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As my third night of this grueling nightshift comes to a close, I breathe a sigh of relief and cry tears of joy. Not because I have survived another night, though yes that is important, but because I have finished the one thing that I set out to do back before November ended. Though I am supposed to be on holiday, I knew that I would finish this, no matter the cost. There are so many things I could say, about how much you have done for me, how important you have become to me on this journey. But I know that not a single one of them would sum up the immense amount of gratitude that I truly hold for you, V. The things that I have learned from watching your love for Stephen, the strength that it has given me about my own feelings for Tony, they are the things that I am truly thankful for.

Before I met you, I would have kept my love for him silent, mourned in my darkness and never spoken out about it. I would not have sought help here to process everything that I was feeling, how I want to feel these things. And the more I watched you, the more I realized that I truly didn't have to feel bad about the love I have in my heart for him. It's okay for me to want him here, to want him to have survived so that I can still dream of him. And while there are many, many others that I extend my thanks to, you were the first one that showed me loving a fictional character is okay, no matter what people say. And for that, I gift you this, one last thing before I rest my weary soul for the winter.

Thank you, beautiful flower, for all you have done for me - myself and for Tony - on this long journey. And I look forward to seeing where we go from here. Merry Christmas, my dear.

Oh my heart💗 - in all the best of possible ways!

I am so grateful that something that comes as naturally to me as breathing touched you in such a way that you felt freed to love and mourn and heal. I suppose I didn't get that you'd tried before to tell me this; I can be dense that way at times. But I understand now and I will forever love & treasure this amazing, beautiful, shining labor of your love. Love that comes from an immense heart, and that deserves to find its expression without hesitation or concern for appearences to the wider world.

The details of the gorgeous piece take my breath away. A ring on Beauty's finger...and a baby bump as well! Stephen looking so comfy (especially in that hoodie) and relaxed, holding not only his beloved, but the future they will share. I first saw this when I was half-awake, watching the end of the PBS Tabernacle Choir Christmas special (so I was in no fit state to reply) and as I fell back to sleep, my mind's perpetual fancy had me imagining Stephen finally saying, 'Yes...yes, let's make a baby together...' What a wonderful dream that would be!

I love seeing Tony & Damon together and happy, and that you included Tony's injuries from when he sacrificed himself to save the Universe. And a ring on Tony's finger too! I suppose it won't be too much longer until Stephen & Beauty invite their friends to take on the mantle of godfathers to Baby Strange (baby girl, much to Beauty's understated longing, as it took her mother six pregnancies to get her girlchild). After the first sketch you gifted me, I never would've imagined more--so this is the sweetest surprise and I'll adore it forever. In fact, I'm going to work on a way to make it my icon (although it may mean editing it down to just S&B, but I know you won't mind).

Mere thank you's will never be enough to portray my gratitude, so I will simply say: go rest your weary mind and soul, and may your dreams be blessed with those things you long for most, for you've more than earned that joy. Come Spring, I will be looking forward to hearing and seeing the ideas & artist visions that come to you in your hiatus! You have all my love ~ V

💜💙💜💙💜

#purplefeathersandblackleather #well beyond #fanart appreciation #fanart adoration #canon x non-canon characters #Stephen Strange #Beauty Lincoln #OFC #BeautifullyStrange #Tony Stark #Damon Renner #OMC #thank you thank you my friend!#gift from the heart #Christmas #Christmas gifts #friendship and community

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cyanwyrmy · 2 months

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Oh dear… (cw: needle and syringe)

(Fan Art!)

I think Eddie is afraid of needles and dreads doing his T-shot each week. It’s not that he doesn’t want the T, but he’d prefer it didn’t come from a nasty poke every Monday. Thank the stars Frank always remembers. Now that I’m thinking about it, Eddie would genuinely forget sometimes if he’d done it. Poor sap.

If it’s not obvious, this is based purely on my experience with T-shots 😅 it might be silly, but it’s a comforting thought to me that Eddie might share my struggle haha. I’m very blessed to have people in my life willing to help me 🩷

#welcome home fanwork #tw needle #tw syringe #transmasc experience #eddie dear #frank frankly #not my character #I hope clown is okay with drawings like this #I know Eddie is confirmed gay but there’s nothing saying he’s trans #doesn’t mean he’s automatically cis but I want to respect the canon #definitely over thinking it #eddie dear x frank frankly #eddie x frank #Eddie dear trans #frank frankly non binary #tw dysphoria #tw fear of needles #attempt at background #welcome home

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evasive-anon · 4 months

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Jason was having a pretty OK time with the league of assassins, sure getting dunked in a lazarus pit sucked and Bruce turned out to be a scumbag who didn't care about him, but at least he isn't dead. He even liked most of the new skills he was learning there so on the whole being with the league seemed like a pretty good deal to him until Talia woke him up in the middle of the night and left him alone with two child assassins.

Or, a demon twins AU where when Talia realizes her father intends to have her boys fight to the death takes action first by deciding to take all her kids and leave the league. Talia either dies or is separated from them in the initial escape and now Jason just has a bag of supplies and a letter from Talia explaining the plan to get to Gotham. Jason has to get himself and two 7 year olds out of the Himalayas, across a desert, and over 12k miles to Gotham. Only now the league members hunting them down want them dead or worse and Jason isn't too confident that B will accept them given their kill counts.

Featuring:

Good Mom Talia. she loves her kids. Did she teach them to kill? Sure, but that's an important life skill.

Single Teen Mom Jason. He's the oldest and in charge but he also will not answer any questions about The Plan™ given he isn't committed to Talia's but also doesn't have a set alternative. Oscillates between looking forward to just dumping his new little brothers with Bruce so they'll be his problem and thinking of just moving somewhere random in the US and keeping them based entirely on how cute vs annoying they are at that time. Didn't realize how much he relied on Talia to help him with things until she is gone. He's really trying his best but he wasn't all that emotionally stable before this so hang in there.

Angry Smol Dami. He's still drinking the LoS punch and really dislikes that he is now considered a traitor. Can't stand that Jason won't answer any of his very relevant questions. Is actually very scared but will not show it. Misses his mom. Didn't even know he had siblings until his mom yoinked him out of bed that night and brought him to Jason and Danny and started all this. Physically the stronger twin. Thinks Danny is dragging them down in fights and also may blame him a bit because clearly his mother only did all this to spare him.

Danny, reincarnated with limited access to his memories and powers. Has been trying to keep his powers a secret. Talia knew about them but never told anyone but she may have hinted at it in her letter to Jason. Not the strongest physically but very good at stealth and social interactions. Didn't know he had and older brother or twin before Jason woke him up at Talia's instruction that night. Thinks Damian is mean and has faith Jason knows what he's doing even if that is very much untrue.

#escape the LoS demon twins prompt #dropping extras at the end in the tags for fun #demon twins au #dpxdc prompt #fanfic prompt #dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #dc x dp #original post #long post #non-canon compliant #danny phantom crossover #batman crossover #Athanasia and Mara could be added to the party as well for extra fun #but I don't know how familiar the phandom side is with those characters so I didn't include them in this #also out of some mercy for this Jason tbh cause even 2 kids would already be a pain for a teenager #if Mara is there then Damian would probably vibe with her the most in spite of their rivalry cause she's probably distrust Jay too #and she would probably also resent becoming a traitor so they'd relate to each other #If Athanasia is in the crew then I think she'd be clocked as the weakest link and Damian would probably disapprove of her instead of Danny #Danny could also be full human in this AU #powerset if reincarnated is whatever you want but I was thinking invisibility for brief periods and partial intagability #like he can disappear for a couple seconds or phase a weapon through him in a pinch #but he can't do it a lot or maybe can only do it sometimes #i don't imagine Jason has pit rage in this just trauma #I imagine Jason being 16/17yo

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hyperfreaksating · 3 months

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One piece AU where nothing changes but my OC Osha Law Kidd and Killer are in a punk band and are also a polycule and the band is name Great Roar of Arctic Rage (Groar)

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fan-goddess · 1 year

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10 things I hate about you

Pairing: Ettore x Female reader

Summary: You hate Ettore. You hate him for so many different reasons. The thing you hate the most though, is that you don’t even hate him at all.

Warnings: Non canon Ettore, heavy smut talk though no real smut is mentioned, reader is female no pronouns, talk of masturbation, the box

Main Masterlist is here

Ewan Mitchell Masterlist here

Other Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Series Masterlist here

You hate how Ettore never voluntarily talks to anyone. The only time you’ve heard him is with Dibs. He’s said the odd ‘yes’, ‘no’ even a small ‘scuse me’ when he’s cutting in line again. You’ve tried to imagine what he’d sound like saying normal sentences. Though what even are normal sentences now? Usually it includes asking Dibs about tests or saying thank you for the small amount of food you’re given. Still, you try and make it sound like he’s saying all these things in your head. It never sounds right.

You hate how he somehow gives off an aura. It’s a certain kind, one that somehow screams for you to fuck off. Whenever he’s got that face on he’s not approachable at all. Not that anyone even really tries anymore. You’ve possibly seen people attempt at a conversation, but all it takes is a look and their off. He gives off a certain aura that makes it so you wouldn’t want to go up to him even if he was the most prettiest man on the whole ship.

You hate how he stares. Sometimes when you go to look at him, you find he’s already looking at you to begin with. He’s not even a silent starer. You can sometimes feel his stare on you like a heat radiating rash. He doesn’t even make a face when he’s looking which is near the worst part of it. It’s all in his eyes. The eyes which seem to peace apart any living part of you and decide you of your worth. It’s like they hold no true emotion. Like he’s a robot sent by the earth humans to check up on you all.

You hate his stupid tattoos. There’s three of them that decorate his body, and yet they all look near identical to each other. Each of them are triangles. Ones on his neck and the others are on one of each of his arms. You have no idea why they all look near the same, except for some of the inner detailing of it you spotted when you stood behind him. You’ve tried to think of reasons why someone would get the same tattoo multiple times. Once you pondered if he was part of a cult. Maybe he’s apart of the illuminati? That one made you laugh, but then at least the multiple triangles would actually make sense. You don’t think anyone’s ever asked him about them or if they ever did, he’s never told them.

You hate how he’s cocky. He never talked to confirm it, but you know that he knows he’s good looking. You know this, as you noticed near the beginning of your watching, he never had a shirt on. It’s almost worse how when you’re all forced to run for exercise, he runs shirtless. You’re glad he runs at the back cause otherwise you’ll be forced to bare witness to his bare naked sweaty chest. It’s always rare to see him wear a shirt. He knows he’s got a good body and he’s very prepared to use it for his own needs. The other women ignore him but you think you know him better than anyone. Better than anyone’s tried at least…

You hate how he’s always in that god damn box. You can’t even count on both your hands the amount of times the two of you have bumped into each other coming out of the box. It’s not the fact that he alway seems to be somehow hard and horny which annoys you. It’s the fact that when he goes out he looks so pleased with himself with a smirk decorating his face. Like you said before, ‘cocky’. Even when you walk into him from the box, he gives a small smirk and a small apology, “Sorry princess…” and a lingering touch to your arms as he goes past. Maybe he thinks about you in there? It brings a heat to you that you refuse to let yourself extinguish.

You hate how he’s unintentionally funny. When he cut in line once for food and the person he cut protested, he flung his arms out similarly to what a bellboy in a hotel wouldn’t done. It made you laugh slightly though the laugh quickly died when Ettore made eye contact. He didn’t say anything to you. He didn’t attempt to question why you laughed. All he did was carry on the normal routine, the normal routine for him at least… He sits at his table. He says sarcastic things which sometimes brings a smile to your lips.

You hate how Ettore is actually an attractive person. He has a sharp jawline that looks like it could cut glass. He has piercing blue eye you only ever got to see once. In line for food once he stood behind you. You could nearly feel the body beat coming from him and his stupid pretty shirtless body. When you turned aroung you found him already looking at you. His eyes were dark blue. Similarly to the light that shon through the ship when it was dark. The smirk you see when you see him leave the box. It’s like you’re catching him something he’s not supposed to be doing.

You hate how you know what he did to deserve to be put on this ship. You had a free afternoon and Dibs just so happened to leave her door open and the password to her computer on a piece of paper in her drawer. You didn’t want to initially peek at his file. Your curiosity got the mere better of you when your leg started to twitch and your fingers started picking at your nails. Though when you read his file the disgust and regret hit you like a train. You nearly vomited in Dibs’ little paper bin in her office. After finding that out though, you started making connections to things Ettore does. The way he only seems to stare at women. Late at night when you’re supposed to be asleep, you’ve heard footsteps come to the outside of your room and stay there for a while before seemingly leaving after a while. You don’t know if it’s him or not, but the ever since you knew of his reasons for coming here you’ve been more stricter with yourself in your watching of him. If he’s capable of doing what he did on earth, what’s gonna stop him from doing it on the ship with so little people?

You hate how even after saying how you hated all those things about him you didn’t actually hate him. You hated how actually you fantasise about him saying all these things to you. Calling you his good girl as he pounded into you till you begged him to stop from the overstimulation. You hated how you imagined his piercing gaze staring into your soul as he forced you to pleasure yourself in front of him. You hated how you imagined having your face buried into his neck and just seeing a bead of sweat trailing down his annoying repetitive tattoos and licking it away. You hate imagining how cocky he would be in bed, making you beg for him to allow you to cum while you moan and writhe beneath him. You hated how if you ever did have sex with him, you’d be able to admire his prettiness up close. You hated thinking about how he maybe thinks about you in the box, his cock in his hand thinking of ways to take you and mark you.

Though with all this supposed hate going through your head, you have no real idea that he’s thinking the same thing. How he hates that you are the only one who truly excites him anymore. And how he’s this close to truly marking you…

#ettore #ettore x reader #non canon Ettore #high life #high life fanfiction #Ewan Mitchell character #Ewan Mitchell #terrible character but I love the actor #Ettore/reader #ettore fic related

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alchemax-genetics-division · 10 months

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The Sleeping Habits of one Miguel O’hara

One-Shot || Peter B Parker x Miguel O’hara || Gen

This is unbeta’d, written in tumblr, and unedited, so any mistakes are mine alone! If there are any egregious errors, please feel free to (respectfully) reach out and I’ll fix them asap! I hope you enjoy!

———

No one had ever seen Miguel sleep. Doze, sure, but that was only late at night, and only if you were unlucky enough to wander into Miguel’s darkened lab when he hadn’t yet dragged himself back to wherever it was that he found even the scantest scrap of comfort. On nights like those, Miguel could be found slumped over the nearest lab table, forehead braced against his forearm on the tabletop. And then, mere moments later, his red eyes would blink open, as silent as a predator’s, glowing in the pitch-dark room, and the room’s occupancy would very quickly return to one.

But no one had ever seen Miguel sleep. The rumor mill abounded with speculation, each more ridiculous than the last, but only barely; he sleeps upside down like a bat, he sleeps stark naked, he sleeps in vats of fresh blood. Peter B had never paid such whisperings any mind, far more focused on his own sleep schedule and the toddler that wreaked havoc on it.

And then Peter B had confessed his feelings for his boss and, surprise of all surprises, hadn’t immediately gotten fired (or killed, he supposed, because he had seen Miguel’s talons in action and while their metal- and flesh-rending ability was agonizingly attractive in the field, he didn’t think Miguel would hesitate to use his natural weapons in any situation where he was uncomfortable, even emotionally.) Even more mind-bogglingly, Miguel had… reciprocated. Slowly, hesitantly, with all of the trepidation of someone who had been burned before, and then burned twice more for good measure.

It didn’t change much, if Peter were being honest with himself. He still co-parented with MJ. He still brought Mayday into Headquarters and, when the anomaly didn’t appear to be too dangerous, into the field. He still pestered Miguel within an inch of his life whenever he got the chance. He still wrangled spider-kids like he was paid to do it. He still did his job, when it was absolutely required of him to do so.

The only difference was that, now, he got to hold Miguel’s hand while he did it. Now, he got to throw a casual arm around Miguel’s shoulder while he made his characteristic dad jokes, giving Miguel a one-armed squeeze that conveyed more between them than words ever could. Now, he got to kiss Miguel for luck before every mission and he got to kiss Miguel in victory when they got back.

Their relationship didn’t change the fact, however, that Miguel was an incurable workaholic. Even with Peter pestering him to eat, leaving water bottles at his elbow during the day, and reminding him to sleep at some point during the night before leaving the lab to return to his shared apartment with MJ or (on nights where he hadn’t had Mayday at work that day) to the small living quarters in HQ that had been assigned to him, he knew that Miguel didn’t rest nearly enough. Something about vulnerability, Peter reasoned, and tried not to take it personally. Miguel didn’t rest around anyone; he hadn’t had the luxury of trusting the people around him and two months of love, no matter how all-encompassing or overwhelming, would change that.

So when Peter opened his HQ apartment door one night, more than ready to collapse against the nearest semi-horizontal surface and remain dead to the world for the next twelve hours straight, the last thing he expected to find was Miguel O’hara in his bed.

His first thought, irrationally, was that every single spider-person who had ever speculated about Miguel’s sleeping habits was dead wrong, because Miguel slept exactly like a normal person. Well, almost. He was on his back, which would’ve looked as stiff as a board (and therefore, not much of a difference from how he normally looked) if not for the almost delicate crossing of his bare ankles, the sleep-gentle curve of his fingers where they rested on his stomach, tilt of his head towards the window. The only light in the apartment came from the glow of the city through the window, casting a neon outline over the ridges of Miguel’s face, illuminating the long lines of his neck. Peter couldn’t help but to trace the length of the contorted muscles, twisted below Miguel’s skin; his gaze came to a rest in the tiny divot behind Miguel’s ear, a minuscule detail, so agonizingly human, and he was overwhelmed with the urge to press his lips to the fine bone of his boyfriend’s skull. He had the wherewithal to close the door, engaging the latch as quietly as possible so as not to wake the man in his bed and swearing softly when red eyes blinked open under a furrowed brow.

“Sorry love,” he whispered, toeing off his shoes and shucking his jacket to the floor. He could deal with then tomorrow. Right now, he needed to be in Miguel’s arms, preferably five minutes ago. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The city glow silhouette shifted, warping in the near-darkness, and Peter’s heart rate kicked up in his chest at the half-concealed movement, every instinct, carefully honed from decades of constant danger, screaming at him to defend himself from the shadow that slithered across the floor. But his spider-sense wasn’t activated; the skin-deep vibration that accompanied every impending blow like lightening to thunder was comfortingly absent. And then the shadow took shape, forming thick-knuckled fingers and a scarred forearm, extending towards him like an invitation, like a demand, like a plea.

Miguel’s half-lidded eyes were still locked on him, sleepily glazed, his face still slack with residual relaxation that hadn’t yet sloughed off from the force of full wakefulness, and Peter’s entire chest clenched. He didn’t try to resist the pull, drawn to Miguel’s side like a magnet. As he took the few steps to the bed, he shed his clothes and by the time he reached the edge of the mattress, little more than a hospital mat with ill-fitting sheets, he was down to his boxers and socks and even in the inky black room, he knew Miguel could see the red and blue webbed pattern that criss-crossed the fabric. Sure enough, when he stepped into Miguel’s line of sight, he heard a familiar huff of exasperation. Only two months of experience enabled him to detect the fondness that laced the sound like veined marble. Peter smiled to himself, smiled down at his sleep-softened boyfriend, smiled in gratitude to the universe.

If he had expected to be allowed to arrange himself in his own bed, he was sorely mistaken. As soon as his hands and knees indented the mattress, prepared to crawl into as comfortable a position as the thin mat could provide, Miguel had his arms around him, tugging him sharply across the remaining space between them. Before he could register the movement, Peter found himself crushed between the mattress and Miguel’s broad bulk, and he suddenly had a much better idea of how pancakes felt when he pressed them down into the pan with his spatula on mornings when he cooked breakfast for Mayday.

He and Miguel were of a height, a fact that was so well hidden by Miguel’s love of raised platforms and dramatic entrances that it shocked nearly everyone who saw them standing together, but his considerable shoulder breadth made Peter feel like an ant underneath Miguel’s body. Only his spider strength lent his lungs the force required to expand. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any stretch; it reminded Peter of the time he had nearly been crushed by a flying slab of concrete and emerged five minutes later with every joint in his body cracked, every vertebrae in his spine popped, and more limber than he had been before being slammed into the ground by two tons of rock and rebar. It was grounding, more grounding than Peter had realized he had needed.

The expansion of his chest must’ve given Miguel concern, however, because he made a noise, something like a grunt but far more sympathetic, and made to move. The second his weight lifted, Peter snaked his arms around his boyfriend’s torso, locking him in place, and Miguel collapsed back down with a huff of amusement.

“Feels good,” Peter mumbled into the side of Miguel’s head. Hair tickled at his cheek and lips but he didn’t dare pull away. Miguel hummed and shifted slightly, settling into a more comfortable but no less compressing position and within seconds, was fast asleep again. His breath ghosted over Peter’s neck where his face was tucked, pebbling the sensitive skin, and Peter’s thoughts raced.

The first position he had found Miguel in had made sense. Most spider-people slept on their backs, ready to protect themselves at a moment’s notice, all of their enhanced senses well within reach and easy use at the first sign of danger. But this, the baring of Miguel’s back to the room, the vulnerability in Miguel’s hidden face, especially for someone without spider senses, was shocking. It didn’t make sense.

Peter pondered it for a while, his mind circling itself like an endless game of chase, every go around converging on one central, illusive conclusion that stubbornly remained concealed.

And then Peter shifted. Nothing major, a mere twitch of his arm, an itch that needed to be scratched, a mindless movement. Immediately, he froze as Miguel’s entire body vibrated above him, a deep rumble emanating from the depths of his chest, his grip tightening around Peter’s torso to the point of creaking ribs and stuttered breath, and it clicked.

Oh.

Miguel had had an entire dimension stolen from him. A home, a family, a wife and daughter, all stolen unceremoniously right from under his nose. In the dead of night, with no warning or preamble, his entire world had collapsed into ruin and desolation and then nothing.

Suddenly his grip felt less crushing. The pressure hadn’t eased, and Peter knew that he’d have bruises in the morning, a ring of black and blue circling his chest, but he didn’t mind. Suddenly, he could feel the protectiveness that coursed through the muscles in Miguel’s arms. He could feel the challenge in his hold, as if daring the universe to try to steal Peter away from him. As if he’d fight God and man alike to keep Peter in his arms, and Peter knew he would.

Peter raised one arm, gently, softly, and placed it, gently, softly, in the thick mane of hair, curling it between his fingers, scratching at Miguel’s scalp with blunt fingernails.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he whispered, trusting enhanced senses to catch the barely-audible words. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, Miguel’s arms relaxed once more, returning from their current level of suffocating back to their previous level of merely constricting. His growling quieted to even purr, deepened further by the hand tangled in his hair.

Within minutes, the vibration rumbling through the entire bed, the scent of his own shampoo wafting from Miguel’s hair, and the weight of his boyfriend above him had lulled Peter into the deepest sleep he had ever gotten, and for once, he was blissfully untouched by nightmares.

———

Peter should’ve been prepared for the barrage of questions. Miguel had slipped from his room early the next morning, but not early enough to be undetected, and while the devil worked hard, but the rumor mill of the Spider Complex worked harder. So he should’ve braced himself for the onslaught of questions that the spider kids aimed at him as soon as he stepped foot into the dining hall for breakfast.

“Did Miguel sleep in your room last night?”

“Are the rumors true?”

“How much sleeping did you actually do?”

“Does he sleep at all or did he perch in the corner all night like a psychotic cat?”

That last one was the helpful input of Hobie and Peter rolled his eyes. It was far too early in the morning to deal with such pointed questions about his sex life and thinly veiled accusations about his boyfriend.

Across the room, he could feel the weight of Miguel’s gaze on him and a flick of Peter’s eyes revealed a subtle and convoluted maelstrom of emotions behind Miguel’s carefully schooled expression. Cautious hope warred with a silent plea and Peter could tell he was waiting for his response, waiting to see if Peter would reveal the depth of his vulnerability, the most sacred and coveted piece of him he had ever entrusted to Peter’s care.

With a half smile and a wink, Peter turned back to the gaggle of teenagers staring hopefully up at him, eyes wide and eager, fully expecting Peter to fuel the gossip circle and ready to take every word that dropped from his lips as gospel.

“Have you ever seen Interview with the Vampire?” Peter asked, grinning at the small chuckle he could hear floating from across the room, even over the sound of exaggerated gagging and riotous laughter that erupted around him. When he looked up, he met Miguel’s amused gaze, his eyes softened with gratitude and mirth, and they didn’t have to say anything. Even across the crowded room, their eyes said everything for them.

———

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!

Edit: If you’d like to leave some support in the form of kudos/comments, you can read this fic on AO3 here!

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #non canon compliant #spiderdads #soft #so soft #fluff #mentions of angst #but only to highlight the fluff #probably out of character but I don’t care #I’m so soft for them so I’m making them soft for each other #miguel o’hara x peter b parker #peter b parker x miguel o'hara #migeul o'hara #peter b parker

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sigyns-drafts · 5 months

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Enchanting music of the night 🎶🌙✨

Human dancer!Reader x Ror Hermes

➩ Stealing the attention of a God like Hermes is the least thing you'd expect as a mortal, but you found yourself with an advantage.

You two had only met once before, now that he was back to seek your attention you decide to tease him and show off your skills in dancing to the lovely melodies he plays to woo you.

➩ Reader type: non binary reader.

⚠: Romantic fluff, a lots of teasing tension~

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this one, I sure did writing it~♡

Underneath the twinkling stars, Hermes approached a figure he knew too well, someone he has kept his eyes upon for quite sometime now.

With violin in hand, he uses his nimble fingers to play a melody that echoed through the divine air of the empty halls, once crowded with life.

A blend of celestial notes that seemed to dance with the night and the God himself.

Y/n turned, their eyes reflecting the glimmering constellations above. They'd always admired the stars.

As Hermes played, he poured his emotions into the music, hoping to catch y/n's attention as well as express the depth of his infatuation with this mortal.

Each note was a whispered confession, and every chord a declaration of his love. However, y/n who was well aware of Hermes' reputation from their previous encounter, responded with a teasing glint in their eyes.

Suddenly they stood up, giving Hermes the attention he wanted. Y/n moved gracefully to the music, matching Hermes' enchanting tunes with a subtle sway of their body.

The air crackled with a playful energy as y/n reciprocated the flirtatious dance of melody and movement.

Hermes, usually the master of wit, found himself enchanted and further drawn to the clever y/n. In an attempt to impress, Hermes approached the enigmatic figure, the soft notes of his violin still somehow playing, filling the air like a gentle breeze.

"Greetings, my dear. Would you care to share a dance with me beneath the stars?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Y/n, with a playful glint in their eyes, replied, "Ah, Hermes, the swift and charming. I've heard tales of your wit. Show me what you've got~"

Accepting Hermes' gloved hand with a sly smile. Together the two gracefully moved as they twirled and spun beneath the cosmic expanse.

Laughter echoed through the halls as the duo enchanted the divine onlookers.

"You play well, Hermes, but can you keep up with the rhythm of my heart?" Y/n teased, their gaze locked with his.

Hermes, smitten and determined, matched their playful banter.

"Oh, my dear, I can dance to the beat of any heart, especially the one captivated by yours y/n."

Y/n to put more logs onto their playful banter leaned in, whispering into the gods air. "Perhaps you're not the only one with tricks up your sleeve, messenger~"

As the dance continued, the celestial pair engaged in a delightful exchange of teasing glances and playful words.

Hermes, usually the master of wit, found himself charmed and challenged by y/n who had effortlessly turned the tables on him.

"I thought you gods were supposed to be untouchable, yet here you are, dancing with a mortal~"

Hermes starts smirking to himself at the comment y/n made. He really needed to step up his game and match their energy.

"Maybe you're just..too irresistible~"

As the music reached a crescendo, Hermes, unable to resist the magnetic pull, pulled y/n out from the dance and into the shadows.

Y/n taken aback by this sudden move blushes deeply, eyes widened.

"What's the rush, Hermes?"

Without a warning Hermes had now pinned y/n up against a nearby wall, out of anyone's sight in the deep dark night. He leaned in close to y/n, almost in a threatening way.

"Sometimes, even gods can't resist temptation..may I, my dear?"

Y/n found themselves for once speeches at Hermes words. Not once in a lifetime did they ever imagine a God, let alone Hermes when they had first met to ever want to pursue them.

Yet, here he was, having just danced with y/n and was now offering a kiss. This was a chance they might not ever get again.

Y/n nodded, giving Hermes the permission he needed for their lips to meet.

The kiss Hermes gave y/n was almost unimaginable, one they'd never forget. His soft lips were warm, their passion once ignited by the dance now consuming them in a fervent embrace.

The world around them faded, leaving only the intoxicating allure of the moment.

Y/n when Hermes finally pulled away, giving the mortal a rest from his passionate kiss, they found themselves breathless.

"Well, messenger of the gods, that was quite the message from you.."

Hermes chuckled softly at y/n and whispered. "Consider it a special delivery of my love to you, my sweetling~"

"Oh my.. Is that a real confession then~?"

"You can call it that, y/n"

As the night continued, the stars and moon bore witness to a dance that transcended mortal and divine to finally find love, leaving the two lost in the enchantment of the night.

#writing #reader x character #reader x canon #romantic fluff #fluff #romantic #non binary reader #nb reader #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv hermes #ror hermes #hermes x reader #ror hermes x reader

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theglamour-theterror · 18 days

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old billboard of some haymitch guy. he won the 50th game.

#haymitch abernathy #thg #the hunger games #oc x canon #the hunger games oc #thg oc #my art #alexandrite mitchell #original character #oc x character #there we go #insanity unleashed #hope it's well received! i actually enjoyed the processs #proud work #memoir of the past #non character and a guy with a paragraph backstory...yes #book accurate haymitch #save me

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simpin-on-noodles · 3 months

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Finally made a mini comic!! I really wanna make more cause I never really get to show off how my ocs interact with different characters, but I hope yall like it🙏

#darkwing duck #dwd #darkwing duck oc #dwd oc #quackerjack #darkwing duck quackerjack #dwd quackerjack #oc x canon #oc x character #quackerjack fanart #oc x canon fankid #oc x canon ship #noncanon #non canon comic #Whiffle while you work #I love drawing Quackerjack sm #Shout out to the first banana brain

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evermorethecrow · 2 months

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plantchu beach episode

#non canon canon events #plant shop au #the womans names etsuko ill mention her later #shes super nice #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd art #my corrupt art #chuuyabsd #bungo stray dogs manga #chuuya #i love him #chuuya au #bsd chuuya #chuuya bsd #bsd oc #oc #oc x character

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working-dreamer · 3 months

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It’s wild how shipping culture has changed so drastically over time on the internet.

In the old days people shipped characters who either had only one line of dialogue with each other, never even met, or not even from the same piece of media. It was the wild west and sure some ships were uncomfortable but people had the mindset to just block the tag and stay away from ships they didn’t enjoy.

Nowadays? It’s more like people have to clarify that their ship isn’t canon compliant, character adjacent, and story irrelevant otherwise they get a flood of comments saying “but this character isn’t like this in canon” and some people legitimately get angry if you’re not following the canon.

Like- shipping and fandom culture from what I understand it is about engaging with media in a way that caters to you. And if you don’t like a ship or show just… block the relevant tags and don’t engage in the ships? The internet isn’t supposed to cater to us- we have to cater ourselves to our internet environment. And no matter how many times people may harass others over a fandom or ship they don’t like, those ships are not gonna disappear.

The internet has just been getting worse when people have decided to place morality in their opinions by saying things like “if you enjoy the ship then you support (insert horrible thing here that’s usually completely unrelated to the ship itself)” when it used to be “eh, not my thing” and people just moved on.

And for the record this isn’t about a specific ship or anything- just an observation of how fandom has evolved (and regressed) over the years and I find it fascinating from a sociological perspective cause we still don’t know how having the internet from birth affects the development of kids and how that affects how they interact with others- isn’t that scary?

I know that’s slightly unrelated but the way people engage in media has been changing over they years and that also involves fandom and the maturity level thereof in the internet space and someone smarter than me could probably write a whole thesis paper about fandom culture and how the internet has hindered the social development of people and how that affects community specifically from a fandom lens.

Just- for your sanity younger internet children: it’s not worth harassing others over something as trivial as ‘it’s not canon that this character kisses another character.’ Just find ships you like. Block ships you don’t. And just enjoy your time doing what you like!

You can’t control the internet but you can nurture your little corner of it.

#shipping #canon ship #non canon ships #reader x character #self ship #I get so tired of seeing shipping posts and the comments or reply tweets are nothing but ‘but this isn’t canon tho!!!’#sonny when I was your age we shipped characters who never even met in canon!#even with ships I don’t like- I get exhausted seeing people get bombarded by fourteen year olds who haven’t developed critical thinking yet #every day I agree more that people under 18 shouldn’t have access to the internet #this can also apply to people who act like ‘if you dont reblog or boost this post (insert social issue here) then you’re a bad person!!’#like… no #you don’t have to apply moriality to a stinkin’ reblog button!#sure informing people is important but you don’t have to take the responsibility of the world’s issues #we’re all doing the best we can and you don’t have to prove your morality to be a good person #it’s okay to not engage with those kinds of posts if it makes you uncomfortable- that doesn’t affect your morality in any way #For example: I’m never gonna reblog gory posts showing battle zones #does that mean I support war? absolutely not!#I’m just protecting my mental health! and you need to as well #the internet is yours to make it how you want and if you want it to be an escape from the horrors of the world that’s okay #protect your happiness fam

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mangomagicaart · 3 months

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Day where you’re overstimulated? Draw gay shit!

#art #artists on tumblr #artist on tumblr #digital art #bugsnax #original character #floofty fizzlebean #oc artwork #sketches #frazzle funklebunkle #oc x canon #enby #non-binary #me and who #mangos art #Floozle

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ghostfaceaddams · 3 months

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tnhome | chapter one

summary: A look at Tara's current lifestyle and a look back at burying her mother.

warnings: 18+, talk of violence, talk of addiction, cussing, and a funeral for a flashback. That's all, I think.

word count: 3,446

a/n: Hope you all enjoy! It's been done a long time and in my drafts for half that amount of time and hasn't been posted because I was too nervous to. But here it is finally!

previous part | | series masterlist | next part

One-thousand-and-ninety-five days. That’s how many days it had been since Tara last saw or heard from her big sister. A full three years. That was all going to change tonight. Pretty soon, Sam would be back and the big bad monster that was their mother would be gone. The sisters could be reunited again, and Tara could finally be happy again.

While Tara didn’t get Sam back that night, Sam did return to Woodsboro in December. On the first day of the month, she showed up on the Hicks’ front door step and politely asked for Tara. She made sure to thank Judy - and Wes - for looking out for Tara the last three years and for taking the young girl into their home for the past seven months. Before Judy returned Tara to her big sister, Sam had to prove that she was sober. That meant providing signed documents from AA meetings and a urine test. Her one year sobriety chip wasn’t too bad either.

So, after that, the Carpenter sisters were reunited. Now it was September 8th and school was back in session. It was Tara’s senior year to be exact. All the parents of her friends always said that their senior year was the most fun and the easiest (as well as the saddest), but so far it had been nothing but hell for the girl. Especially seeing you draped all over Amber all the fucking time. In the halls, in class, in the cafeteria, in and outside of school. Seeing those two so smitten together was nearly unbearable for Tara. The Latina couldn’t help the visions she had; visions of a buck 120 and blood, the resemblance to her mother’s dead body uncanny. “Tar-Bear, you listening to me?” Tara blinked away the bloodlust and focused on you.

She couldn’t help but smile at the glimmer in your eyes and scooted closer. The two of you were sitting on her bed attempting to do homework but were really listening to Mitski and talking. It was one of Tara’s favorite activities to partake in with you. “Sorry, you know Mitski just tends to take me to some other universe with her music.” You ducked your head down as you snickered and shook your head. This only caused Tara’s smile to widen into a prideful grin, that grin was mostly reserved for just you. “I was asking if you wanted to come over and watch Barbarian this Friday. I’ve heard nothing but good reviews and I think it might be that elevated horror that you prefer.” “You just want to see Bill Skarsgård.” Tara grinned. You reached down and flicked Tara on the nose, causing the shorter girl to wrinkle her nose and roll away for a second. But just a second, because she could never stay away from you for too long. There had been numerous times in the past two years where Amber and Tara had gotten into fights - a few had even turned physical. Amber was always so smug, thinking that she could get you to turn on Tara - your best friend - and believe your girlfriend instead. It didn’t work, of course, but you didn’t pick either side. Tara knows why, and it makes her entire body fume with this rage that had her teeth nearly shattering from her clenched jaw and had her hands trembling.

Sam was so perceptive when it came to her baby sister, she could detect the ever-slightest twitch to the side of Tara’s lips and how rigid her tiny body got. It was usually when their mother would - inevitably - do something to hurt her daughters (verbally or physically). But Amber was caught on the receiving end quite a bit as well. Sam never really did understand why the two were friends and she didn’t understand why they were still friends. Amber was always stealing things from Tara, like her crayons or toys or friends, or her crush. She’d be the first to spat foul words or initiate physical roughness with Tara. It only got worse the older the girls got. The past two years had been a startling confirmation of that. “So it’s mutually beneficial, that’s just more reason for you to come over and watch. Or I could come over here if you’d like.”

You carefully moved a few strands of inky black hair from Tara’s face, noticing the way her eyes swelled with adoration and her body sagged against your lap. “Just you and me, right?” Tara couldn’t help but ask. Tara couldn’t help herself with a lot of things; couldn’t help but call Sam every day after she had left, couldn’t help but sneak over to your house even though she would receive a beating from Christina the next day, couldn’t help but get into physical fights with anyone who so much as slightly elevated her heart rate (especially the ones who spoke about fucking you or would stare at your ass).

Couldn’t help but plunge a knife into her mother repeatedly. “My parents are going to be gone this weekend for some conference my dad has, Amber’s going with the twins and Liv to Crater Point for some stupid party, and Wes is spending time with his mom. So, unless Sam would like to join us, it will just be me and you. And Chrissie, of course.” Chrissie was your dog, named after Jordana Brewster’s character in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning and gifted to you by Tara.

The young Carpenter had of course checked with your parents first; dogs cost a shit ton of money and Tara didn’t want her best friend’s parents to hate her when they practically loved her more than their biological child. Took most of Tara’s money from savings and her paychecks all summer, but Chrissie was worth it. Anything was worth getting to see you smile. Your happiness was Tara’s number one priority in life, and she hated that she was slacking at her duties. She needed to step it up and figure out a plan that wouldn’t cause any ounce of pain for you. “Ah, Chrissie. I’ve missed her.” Tara sticks her bottom lip out in a pout, earning a crackling chuckle from you that sounds more like a scoff. “Well, she misses you, too.” The two of you smile at each other for a moment before easily dissolving into a comfortable silence, one that was common between them. It wasn’t the common occurrence where both would settle their attention on their phones and exist in the same room. No, it was the two of them telepathically sharing thoughts and emotions without saying a word, or to just exist with each other. Silence had always been a rule that Christina brandished in the household, the scars on Tara’s knuckles were reminders of that. Amber always blew up on you when you were too quiet because it unnerved her.

Both of you could only find solace in one another when it came to silence; you didn’t feel like a crazy person and Tara wasn’t scared to stay quiet. A buzzing filtered the air, disturbing the perfect tranquility of the moment. Seeing as how the music didn’t quiet down, it wasn’t Tara’s phone. Didn’t take two seconds for a confirmation from you as you reached over to grab your phone. The slightest puckering of lips and flutter of eyebrows was a dead giveaway for Tara about who had texted you. Amber. Fucking Amber. You typed something back before setting your phone down and gently moving from underneath Tara. She sat up and watched with disappointing eyes as you gathered your things. “Amber’s here.” You sighed. ‘Of course. Of fucking course! Amber ruins everything. She- ‘ Tara’s inner turmoil was halted when you wrapped your arms around her and hugged her tightly. It didn’t go unnoticed by Tara how you two were positioned so you weren’t in front of the window. She had purposely left her blinds open knowing that you two would be spending the day together. Make that only the afternoon. “I thought Sam and I were going to give you a ride home after dinner.” You smiled apologetically and headed towards the bedroom door, not even waiting for Tara to get up off the bed and walk you to the door.

That’d been happening a lot lately, you wouldn’t let her walk you out. It was always subtle, how you’d inch away or wave her off if you guys were at somebody else’s house. Part of Tara - the irrational part - was determined that you were sick of being her friend and were ashamed to be seen with her. The rational part of her reassured her that it had nothing to do with how you saw others seeing you and Tara, but how Amber saw you and Tara.

So, either way, the irrational part of Tara was going to win, and she’d want to rip the skin off of Amber’s face and shove it down her throat until she stopped breathing. Okay. A bit too graphic. ‘Stick to the buck 120, Carpenter.’ “I’m really sorry, Amber just showed up and I can’t really turn her down now that she’s here, that’d be rude.” You swallowed, knowing that either way you were being rude. “Tell Sam sorry for me, will you? I really didn’t know Amber was going to show up.” For the time span of two heartbeats, Tara just stared at you with this blank expression that you saw from her too often. There were some days where it was worse than others, but it hardly happened when Tara was one-hundred-percent focused on you and it was just you two. Tara blinked away her blank expression, replacing it with a cool, hard one that screamed of indifference. But her eyes always gave her away. How they would flash when they flickered down and then darkened when she looked back up.

Of course, there was various darkness’ to Tara’s eyes, so many that you couldn’t even identify what each of them meant. She blinked and swallowed and nodded her head. “That’s okay, we understand. I’ll make sure to tell Sam that.” You grimaced one last weak apologetic smile before ducking out the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind you (as if Christina was still alive and would smack Tara for the minimalist amount of noise). Part of Tara wanted to just jump off her bed and throw her arms around your divine (and bruised) shoulders to show off to the entire neighborhood that you were friends.

But Tara knew that it was petty and selfish, and those two things could lead to some very bad consequences between you and Amber. “Fucking Amber.” Tara muttered before grabbing one of her pillows and pinning her head against her mattress, wondering how long she could hold her breath.

The sun isn’t out. Tara of course didn’t know that was going to happen when she planned this funeral. And yes, she did plan this all on her own. Judy of course helped out with all the legal mumbo-jumbo and Martha pitched in with the food for the service after the funeral, but Tara picked the date and casket and everything. She made sure she picked the cheapest casket available despite Christina making a respectable amount of money, and she made sure she went to a different cometary.

One that Billy Loomis wasn’t buried at. So many years have passed that there wasn’t any space beside the deceased, teenage serial killer anyways, but still, Tara had to make sure Christina knew that she didn’t get to be happy. ‘You say I took Sam and Dad away from you? Well fine, I’ll take Billy away from you too, for a second time. Take that, Mom.’ But anyways.

The sun isn’t out and this cometary isn’t as modest as the main one in Woodsboro. This cemetery was close to the edge of Woodsboro too, an eternal torment for Christina. She can look right down the road and see her escape! But she never left Woodsboro when she was alive, and now she no longer had the chance to, just a reminder that she once did. Yeah, Tara really put a lot of thought into all of this. The sun hiding was just an added bonus. For once, luck was on her side it seemed. “Hey, Tara.” The orphaned Latina looked up from her spot in her white, plastic chair and at the sound of the voice. She was surprised to see more people accompanying the single voice. It was the twins and Wes; Chad had been the one to speak. Showtime. She “weakly” quirked her lips up in a sad-slash-appreciative smile at the trio. “Hey guys. Thanks for coming.” “Yeah, of course.” Chad said in that serious voice of his that made his voice slightly go higher and had his eyebrows furrowing. Mindy nodded her head beside her brother. “Of course.” Wes repeated Chad’s last sentiment. “We’re here for you no matter what. Is there anything we can do for you or get you anything?” The boy went on to ask. She kept that grimace-mixed-smile on her face and gently shook her head. “No but thank you. You guys being here is doing enough.” Wes smashed his lips together and quirked them up at the corners to nod his head. The twins followed suit with their nodding.

Before they went on to take their seats, the trio took their turns each giving Tara a solo hug before deciding for an impromptu group hug.

Being sixteen-years-old and attending your friend’s funeral for her mother can be a very awkward attendance. You don’t always know how to act or what to say at a funeral when you’re only sixteen, especially when you have to comfort someone else. Tara knows that and doesn’t let it bother her.

Besides, it’s not like she’s actually sad she “had” to kill her mom and now she’s buried six feet under. She’s quite the opposite, actually. She’s elated that Christina is dead and not alive to throw another glass at her head or grip her arm so hard that it leaves marks. Tara’s happy that her mom can’t hurt her anymore, plain and simple. The teen couldn’t help but feel lonely though.

She had heard from Sam; her older sister wasn’t going to make it because she was in the middle of detoxing. Sam had been sober from alcohol for over a year, but news of her mother’s death left her consoling herself with a needle and then she just got hooked. Sam had sounded rough on the phone when Tara spoke to her, breathing heavily and speaking feverishly, but Sam reassured her little sister that she was fine. Despite her habit of lying to Tara so Tara would believe her and not worry, Tara still believed her.

That was Tara’s one fault in life: her big sister Sam. After all, she killed Christina to make Sam come back. She guesses that makes Sam becoming addicted to drugs her own fault. But then she reminds herself that Sam had already been an alcoholic, so becoming a drug addict isn’t a far stretch.

Besides, if Christina had been a decent mother that didn’t wish her child would die, this funeral wouldn’t be happening, and Sam wouldn’t have been tempted. So, it’s not Tara’s fault, she reasons with herself. It’s just fucking life, the addictive genetic and the abusive mother. Tara would never hurt Sam on purpose anyways, she loved Sam more than anyone in the entire world. Well, except for maybe- “Hey, Tara.” You. “Y/N.” Tara expressed her relief in your appearance.

She stood up and you made sure to present yourself for an engulfing hug. Tara wrapped her arms around your shoulders and closed her eyes as your arms wrapped around her comfortingly. Amber watched on distastefully. The crossed arms and scowl were a comical combination that almost caused Tara to laugh. But they were at a funeral, Tara had a role to uphold, and she couldn’t break it, or it could be detrimental.

So, she just closed her eyes again and focused back on your embrace. “Thank you for coming.” Tara said to you before pulling away from you and focusing Amber with a look. “Both of you.” “Sure, no problem. I mean, shit man, you’re burying your mom.” Amber remarked. Tara steadied the raven-haired girl with a glare of disbelief. The Latina was not impressed, clearly. Even if she did plan all of this and was happy her plan to kill her own mom worked, Tara still didn’t appreciate Amber being so crass. “Amber.” You scolded. Amber looked at you and sighed like it was such an inconvenience to her to be nice to Tara on the day of her mother’s funeral. “Sorry, Tara.” Amber said lamely. “How’re you holdin’ up?” Tara swallowed with jew clenched, letting the moment settle in the pit of her stomach. “I’m managing.” Is all Tara said. Amber scoffed, clearly not seeing why Tara was being so short with her. But before things could escalate, you were reaching out to hold Tara’s hand.

The Latina’s wide, doe eyes softened immediately upon resting on you. They pooled with wetness at the way you rubbed your thumb over the back of Tara’s hand. Oh, you were such an angel. A true blessing to every life you visited. Every morning and every night Tara would thank God for introducing her to you and becoming best friends. She appreciated you far more than Amber ever could, and she knew that. She just wished you knew that as well. The way Tara looked at you with those wide, doe eyes glistening with adoration and faux-unshed tears, it was so obvious how in love she was with you. Even someone as blind and deaf as Helen Keller could pick up on the aroma of unconditional love from Tara. How you didn’t see it was beyond her, and beyond Amber as well. Between the hand-holding and Tara’s love-sick gaze, Amber’s moment of kindness was up. “Come on babe, the service is getting ready to start.” With Amber’s outstretched hand and stony-no-room-for-discussion eyes, Tara was sure you were going to bid her farewell and she wouldn’t see you again until after the funeral. You looked at Tara who was staring at the ground that would soon swallow her mother whole, and then you looked at Amber’s calm yet demanding stare.

Then, you calmly said, “I’m going to stay with Tara.” Tara lifting her head to stare at you in awe left Amber wanting to shove the Latina’s face into the ground.

But seeing as how this was a funeral for Tara’s mother and Tara was now a grieving, sixteen-year-old, orphan, that action would be deemed unsavory. So, Amber swallowed her rage and implemented her perfect actress facade. After all the acting Tara had done, she could easily spot Amber’s. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you guys after, okay?” Amber’s voice was light and gentle with faux compassion, and her squeeze to you and Tara’s arms felt affectionate. Amber quirked her lips up in a tiny smile meant to comfort Tara and soothe you then walked away.

As soon as the raven-haired girl was beyond your shoulder, you were squeezing Tara’s hand and gently pulling her down to the uncomfortable chair. You smiled gently at Tara when she looked at you, and it left Tara tumbling through the whirlwind of love all over again. Together, you both sat down and waited in comfortable silence for the pastor to show and start the service. Your hold on Tara’s hand never once faltered throughout the service. Even when Tara stood at the podium to give the eulogy (she was very tempted to spew all of the guttural truth of Christina Reyes like how she’d spew blood after a punch, but she held herself back), you never tore your encouraging eyes from Tara’s wobbly ones. That’s how it’d always been, just the two of you together against the rest of the world. Christina tried to take Tara out of the world and Amber tried to replace Tara, but they were nothing against you and Tara’s universal, imperishable bond. It was like…how could Tara explain it? Everything needs substance to live and adapts in order to do so. When it came to you and Tara, that’s how it was, as simple as living. If that made any sense. Tara wasn’t sure it did to most people, but it did to her, and she knew it would make sense to you as well. Just further proof of her philosophy on life with you.

#ghostfaceaddams #tara carpenter x y/n #jenna ortega #gfaddams tnhome #gfaddamswritingcorner #ghostface tara carpenter #amber freeman x y/n #scream 5 characters but non canon events #tara carpenter

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