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phyrestartr · 6 months

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Till Death Do Us Part (Miguel x Reader)

Miguel x Husband!Reader W/C: 9.5k

#NSFW, exhibitionist kink, praise kink, hurt/comfort, infidelity, toxic relationships, brief verbal abuse, mending relationships, mentions of medication, mentions of mental illness, difficult/complex feelings and emotions, things work out in the end, nobody dies, the zombies aren't that important, old men just really going through it

Note: I cried a lot writing this lol please also cry and enjoy! (I also tried my best with the Spanish and tried to reference good sources, but I apologize if it sounds whack lol I only know EN and JP o(--( )

-- Till Death Do Us Part --

"(Name), where the fuck are you?" Miguel ran his hand through his hair as he watched the news, as he stared outside at the cascade of chaos. He waited for you to pick up the phone. He'd already called so many times, but you weren't picking up. Why weren't you fucking picking up?

"Miguel, he's probably fine," Dana cooed as her arms looped around him from behind. "You need to worry about what we're gonna do."

Miguel shook his head and shoved Dana's arms off of him. "Our daughter–Gabriella–"

"You mean our daughter?" Her tone was vile. So, so fucking vile.

"Shut up," Miguel barked before ripping the phone from his ear when your voicemail picked up again. He shot you another text, asking where you were before his fidgety fingers scrolled the log up and down, cruelly reminding himself of the messages he'd ignored from you just a few days ago.

November 18th 7:04am babe come home 7:04am please 12:19pm we can talk about it 12:20pm we'll figure it out 12:46pm gabi misses you 9:34pm call me tomorrow

November 19th 7:35am you still ignoring me? 7:40am gabi wants to call you 7:41am you gonna answer if it's her? 8:05am i'll tell her you're busy with work 9:50pm i miss you

November 21st 9:56pm call me

November 23rd 12:01am i shot someone 12:01am i had to 12:01am but i can't stop thinking about it 12:32am i need you 1:12am please 2:07am miguel

November 30th 7:16am miggs shit's crazy outside 7:17am lock the doors, don't let anyone inside 7:17am maybe stock up on food first idk this might take a while 7:18am but DON'T help anyone who's bit or injured 7:19am they evacuated gabi's school but i don't fucking know where they're going 7:19am i'm gonna find her, i promise 7:20am i love you. stay safe.

December 2nd 3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel rubbed his eyes. He sped past his own wall of text starting from that day, December 3rd, and sent another plea, another wish that you'd respond back sooner than a week from now.

"Oh my God, just give it up–"

"Dana, shut the fuck up, just shut up."

He called you again.

And this time, you answered.

Miguel's heart jumped. "(Name)?"

"Babe?" You sounded like you were panting, like you were straining against something. "Are–are you okay? Where are you?" A string of coughs punched out of your lungs in rough staccato, pinching Miguel's nerves with every ghastly beat. He was scared. He was so fucking scared.

"I--I'm," Miguel stammered, still unable to have that conversation, still too much of a coward in the end. "Does it matter?"

"Just keep the doors locked," you continued. "Keep 'em locked, and…and I dunno if you're in a tower or a house or fucking whatever, but don't leave until things get quiet." You picked yourself up from the ground, Miguel could tell by the scratch of gravel echoing wherever you were. "Don't get bit. Don't help anyone who is bit. Put yourselves first."

"But, I–you–do you have Gabi?" Panic gripped his throat as jets flew overhead, high above the city. The engines roared a gruesome apology, a sound Ouranos himself must have made when his own children slew him, so filled with godly enmity.

Then, molten death rained on the city. Miguel stared at roaring explosions dotting the cityscape, watching pillars of flame feed into the world's chaos. His hands trembled when the same carnage screeched through your phone.

"I'll find her. I-I promise, Miguel, I'll find her and--and I'll–shit."

There was gunfire. Gunfire encased in wild snarling. It devoured the crack of plastic hitting concrete, the noises you gasped out, the–

Silence.

Miguel hated his mind. He hated how it remembered that one moment so clearly, like it'd happened just a minute before the present. Sometimes, when he felt like torturing himself more, he wondered what your face looked like in those last moments. He wondered where your life flickered out. He wondered when he'd see you stumbling through the streets and have to put a bullet in your head.

But he'd force good memories to the surface when he found the light growing too dim; that confession and first kiss, starry nights spent lazing on the hood of your jeep, the look on your face when you finally held little Gabriella for the first time–it all chased away the darkness. It all made him feel whole again, it let him see clearly again. But with clarity came the difficulty of accepting what he'd lost.

He found a way to do it. He found a way to talk about you, too. It was hard not to–your old colleagues, other officers of the lost world, were an integral part of the Alchemax colony. Jeff Morales and George Stacy, amongst a few others, had known you, and by proxy they knew Miguel.

"He was a good guy," Jeff had mentioned when the moment felt right. "Bragged about having the best-looking and smartest partner around. Now, I ain't gonna say he was right, but he wasn't wrong." That brought warmth to Miguel's chest, but guilt smothered it too quickly.

"Never stopped talking about your daughter either." George smiled when he recalled it, but it was something small and morose. "Gabriella, right? Yeah, he said she was a smart cookie. Kind of a brat, apparently, but hey, with that guy as her father? Hah! I'm not surprised."

Miguel liked having them around. He liked the happy memories they brought to your name.

But on bad days, vulnerable days, Miguel wanted to break their necks and watch them turn so he could kill them again in their undeath; they still had their children, their families. How could they bring up what he'd lost while they still had everything?

Today was one of those days, too, one where your memory hurt just a little more than usual. Maybe it came with the snow whirling in the blue-drenched outdoors, or the sudden darkness the world lost itself in. But he knew the frostbite decaying his heart came from the eternal proof of your lost existence:

December 2nd 3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Why did you apologize? Miguel sighed, and carded a hand through his hair as he paced Alchemax's halls. Enough of that, Miguel. You need to focus. Focus.

And once he stepped foot in the control room, the routine morning check commenced: doors remained sealed with no record of tampering, security cameras still functioned, the solar panels still collected more than enough light to keep things rolling. Good. Perfect.

"Hey, hey, how's it lookin'?" Peter asked, a cup of coffee in one hand and his little girl tucked in the other arm. It would've been a wholesome sight, if Peter hadn't ruined it with a too-loud slurp from his mug. Ugh.

"Fine," Miguel grumbled. "Everything's in the green. Nothing to worry about." He ran a hand over his face with a sigh. "Just have to clear the snow off the solar panels later today."

"Oooh, snow! It is that time of the year, huh? December already! Who woulda thought. Time goes by pretty quick when you're not worried about getting eaten all the time." Peter looked at his little May and cooed. "Isn't that right, Mayday?"

Miguel rolled his eyes fondly and shook his head. "If you're that excited about snow, I'll put you on shovelling duty, Parker."

"Oh, wow, I'm suddenly deaf and can't hear you." Peter shuffled away in his stupid slippers and stupid bathrobe. "Oh, right, right, MJ made bread! Can you believe it? I feel like I haven't had a bread-carb in forever! We really gotta do another supply run or we're eating canned beans all winter long. Y'know what? I'll put it on the 'to-do' list!"

Miguel threw a glare at Peter over his shoulder. He was annoying, but he wasn't wrong. They did need more food, more supplies, more ways to sustain themselves. Scavenging the dregs of supermarkets and convenience stores wasn't cutting it anymore; there were too many mouths to feed, and shitty, packaged foods wouldn't suffice much longer.

Miguel braced his hands on the centre console after pulling up a satellite map of the surrounding area. The lab they called home laid nestled away from prying eyes of citizens, making it a safer place to start to rebuild the semblance of a normal life. Though, at the same time, it made it more difficult to get in and out of the city in good time. They had to pick their destination on the map, calculate the time it'd take to get there, and then execute the plan with little to no hiccups. It was hard. It was a pain in the ass. But it had to be done.

Miguel took his time scanning through the map, trying to spot any buildings they hadn't already marked off as empty and not worth the trip. These days, they had to get creative, they had to think of places that'd have food where people wouldn't expect, where the average scavenger wouldn't think to look and–

"Shit," Miguel breathed before rushing to move the map. "How could I forget?"

He spotted a small building on the map, one they'd never ventured to, one they never thought to go to. A chain link fence surrounded the perimeter, giving about five metres worth of breathing room around the building. Clusters of huge garden pots dotted the area randomly, along with whatever outdoor trees and shrubs that'd survived all these years on their own.

Miguel covered his mouth as he smiled.

"You might've just saved us, viejo."

Because you were a country boy. A farmer's son.

You convinced (begged) him to pull over, to go to the new garden store that'd appeared not too long ago. Miguel, far too smitten with you, couldn't find the heart to say 'no' to the excitement buzzing in your voice.

The store was filled with beautiful plants, ranging from common houseplants, to tropical rarities that Miguel never knew existed. All sorts of bushy plants, tall single-leafers, and vining beauties lined the displays and bathed in the gentle, constant mist raining down on them. It really felt like a tropical jungle landed in New York.

You'd sauntered over to the seed section while Miguel wandered through all the store had to offer before finding you again. You had several sachets in your hands and scanned the shelves for anything else that piqued your interest; they were all vegetable seeds, stuff like corn and green beans, tomatoes and onions, but the occasional herb showed itself as well.

To Miguel, raising vegetables seemed like a cute hobby. But to you, raising crops meant revisiting your childhood.

"You wanna get some?" Miguel asked. He looped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as he read all the different seed names on display.

"Yeah. I mean…maybe. Dunno if a vegetable garden'll go with the house." You laughed softly, a little self-deprecatingly, before you reached to put the packets back. "I just–I don't know."

"I think it'll work." A smile warmed Miguel's face as pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. "We can make a greenhouse. A big one. In the backyard." He kissed your neck next. "You can show me the farmboy fantasy."

You laughed, turned in his arms, and kissed him. "Done."

Miguel crept up to the garden centre with Hobie and Gwen in tow. Travelling anywhere from the safe confines of Alchemax was something of a nightmare, but Miguel was used to it–despite being the man who knew how to run the building, he too often volunteered to head out on supply runs himself. He needed the space to think, to feel the darkness they’d found themselves in, and to feel the light of the sun on his skin to remind himself it wasn’t over. Because it was far from over.

The garden centre was surrounded by chain link fences encircling the entirety of the building, the very same ones Miguel had seen from the satellite’s view. Honestly, he found himself surprised to see just how good the place looked–the windows were mostly intact, the fences hadn’t been torn through, the doors were still sealed, and a row of crippled undead and frozen re-deads dotted the perimeter, but none were inside. It didn’t seem like any had ever been inside, actually.

“That’s…kinda weird, right?” Gwen murmured as she adjusted her toque. “This place feels like…like it never went under, or something.”

“Damn near stuck in the past, I’d say,” Hobie agreed. He looked to Miguel. “Fishy’s an understatement, yeah? Might be some not-so-dead-yets in there.”

Miguel took a deep breath as he thought. “It’s a plant store. Not the highest priority for scavengers like us.” He headed forward, grip tight on his hunting knife. “Try not to shoot. Not unless there’s a runner.”

“Better not be any runners,” Gwen grumbled. “It’s December. Hopefully they’re all freezing to double-death right now.”

Hobie scoffed a smile. “If not, we just give ‘em an early Christmas present, hey?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure they’d love their brains blown out.”

“Eh. I would.”

Miguel rolled his eyes as the youngins bickered softly behind him. There was no point stopping them–trying to dad them out in the wilds of New York just gave Miguel a bigger headache, and too often ended in a louder match of bickering and scolding, which then often resulted in the undead stumbling their way. It was always a mess. Maybe he should stop bringing the dynamic duo with him.

But you’d known them. You were fond of them, too, always letting them off the hook with a slap on the wrist when they were caught vandalizing buildings or stealing from stores when they were teenagers. You laughed when you told Miguel stories about them, about how Hobie’d call you “officer tall, sunny and handsome” to get on your good side (which worked), and how Gwen would try to bribe you with car-washings and babysitting to get you to not tell her dad what happened. You knew they were good kids, just bored and too smart for their own good. Miguel knew that, too; the two of you were thick as thieves back in the day, total petty-crime masterminds. Maybe Hobie and Gwen were your dark apprentices, in a way.

Miguel smiled faintly. He missed the days where you both broke into abandoned buildings, haunted houses and everything else inbetween to fool around and fuck. It’d always be filmed, much to Miguel’s embarrassment, but watching the videos back always made him feel…wanted. Appreciated. Like a rare piece of art.

You’d always cheese it up and make it sound like some sort of bad porno or found-footage film, like you didn't just break into Chuck E. Cheese to fuck in front of the creepy animatronics. Breaking the law got you excited, as ironic as that was for a future cop. Miguel thought you were a freak. Miguel was kind of a freak too, though.

“Fucking God,” Miguel moaned, somehow louder than the squeak of the table hosting your feverish coupling. His hips bucked and rolled against yours in a desperate attempt to keep up with your brutal, delicious pace, and his thighs dug into your sides with his hands clutching to your shoulders for dear life.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you mumbled into his ear. Miguel’s body gave a sharp, involuntary jolt, kickstarting the sudden crescendo of his well-earned euphoria. He let his voice be heard as he arched off that shitty table and up against your solid frame, his hips still rutting and moving in sync with your own. You groaned too, letting yourself be just as loud in the midst of him tightening around your heavy, thick cock pummeling into him.

“God, lookit that pretty face,” you growled when you pulled back to see how fucked out he was. “You feel good, huh? ‘M I makin’ you cum hard?” Your hand slapped the side of his ass, and Miguel whimpered sharply. “You’re so good, baby, so fucking good. I’ll make you cum again, yeah? Make you cum while you–while you take everything I got.”

You were terrible. Horrible. A monster in the sack, and apparently in front of powered-down robots. You did what you promised, and ripped another orgasm from his exhausted, over-stimulated body before reaching your own blissful undoing with a rude grin on your stupid, annoying face.

It made for good content, though.

They reached the front gate without problem, only to find it locked with hefty chains and thick padlocks. If there were people in there, then breaking through the first line of defence wasn’t their favoured option–they didn’t like other survivors, no, and they didn’t work with them without good reason, but they weren’t in the business of sabotaging them, either.

“Hobie,” Miguel beckoned, muffling the chains’ clanking while holding up one of the locks.

The young man smirked and flicked his old lock picking set from his pocket. “Don’t mind if I do, coz.”

He unlocked everything in record time. Miguel thought of you for a moment, and wondered if you’d taught the young man a few nefarious tricks since you, too, were an expert sneak. But Miguel pushed the thought aside as they all carefully, slowly, painstakingly unwrapped the linked metal from the fence, and pushed it open with just as much care to keep the noise to a minimum. It’d be a shame to ring the dinner bell in such an untouched place.

They relocked one of the padlocks for peace of mind before wandering towards the front entrance. The doors’ windows were boarded neatly and meticulously, Miguel noticed first. He crouched down and noted something blocking the small gap between the ground and the door, but the faintest reach of light still reached through the few cracks that remained.

“Lights’re on. Front’s boarded,” he sighed before backing up. “Might be a different way inside. Looks like there might be people in–”

“Miguel!” Gwen whispered. He looked her way, and saw her point to a decrepit shed nestled up against the side of the building, right underneath a large window. Shoved against it laid a single, heavy pot flipped on its end, serving as a sort of stool to get up on. But the lack of snow on the newfound path gave Miguel pause.

“I’ll check it out,” Gwen said before nimbly scampering up the side of the shed.

Miguel frowned. “Gwen–”

“Relax, I’m just gonna look.” But Miguel did not relax, especially not when she rose on her tiptoes on that shitty, rickety shed roof and peered through the window before her eyes grew wide with a soft woah.

“Whatcha got, Gwendy?” Hobie asked, approaching the shed himself.

“You two–” Miguel warned. He looked around cautiously, his body aching with primal instinct–they weren’t alone. There had to be someone else here. Gwen and Hobie had to realize that. They were smarter than this. They wouldn’t do anything stupid. They wouldn’t be hypnotized by whatever was in there and throw caution to the wind to get it. Right? Right.

…Right?

Excited, Gwen smiled and glanced at the two before looking back at whatever she saw. “There’re–there’s…trees? And bushes with veggies and–and wow, you were right, Miguel.”

“Well, I say we hop in there and snag a few to bring back, yeah?” Hobie suggested. “Reckon they grew on their own?”

“No,” Miguel scolded. “They didn’t. Come down, right now. We need more people for this.”

“I’m juuust gonna...” Gwen reached for the window, and Miguel’s anxiety peaked.

“Gwen.”

“Just a little–” The window groaned as it popped open.

They froze. They died as statues for a single, long moment, rejecting the need to breathe, letting their eyes freeze solid in winter’s mercy while their ears pricked, searching like the alert deer suspecting death stalking nearby after a misstep on a brittle branch.

One minute passed.

Then two minutes.

Three minutes.

But the birds kept chirping, the world kept spinning, and Ares didn’t come to collect their battle-worn souls.

Gwen looked at her group with a nervous smile, a guilty thing that said, “oops?”

Miguel was furious. But now was not the time to argue or yell. He could let her father handle that back at Alchemax.

But someone grabbed her, and yanked her inside.

Hobie didn’t hesitate. He jumped up to where Gwen once stood and took the plunge after her, scrambling up into the window, but that same someone shoved him, sending him plummeting down to the frigid concrete. Miguel rushed to his side when he hit the pavement with a choked-back groan.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Miguel rolled him on his back. “Hobie, you fucking idiot.” Miguel’s panic ebbed just the slightest bit when he saw the punk blinking away stars instead of losing consciousness.

Click.

Electricity burst through him. Miguel ripped his revolver free of its holster and returned aim up at the shadow in the window. The tired winter sun illuminated a barrel of black metal, and the small, tawny hand holding it steady. A child. A kid. He was pointing a gun at a kid.

“We don’t want any problems, kid,” Miguel called up. He tried to relax, but he couldn’t; children who grew up in this world were ruthless. They were cruel, unrelenting, and unapologetic towards their targets. He couldn’t blame them. It was all they’d known, all they’d been taught. But they were only as cruel as their teachers made them. Some of them still held on to shreds of humanity.

And judging by that unwavering hand, Miguel feared their adversary was at least a confident shot if not a full-blooded monster.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Hobie groaned. “We just–we just want some seeds ‘n shit, ‘at’s all.”

The small hand faltered a bit. Seems she still possessed sympathy. But a voice, deep and thread-bare, called to her. She looked over her shoulder for a second, before pulling the window closed and locking the latch behind her.

Panic lanced through Miguel as anger possessed Hobie. “I’m gonna snap that kid in half–” but the creaky hinges of the front door opening cut him off. Miguel aimed toward it, and Hobie did the same once he got himself together, but then–then Gwen peeked out.

“Guys!” Her hand fluttered and ushered them to come. “You’re not gonna believe this! It’s–”

“Daddy?” A young, gentle voice asked, and Miguel’s gaze snapped to her. To her. To the little girl peeking out from around Gwen. To his baby, to his tiny world, long lost but never forgotten. To–

“Gabriella,” Miguel breathed.

“Ho-ly shit,” Hobie commented.

Gabi’s eyes flooded with emotion. She sprinted to him, nearly slipping and tripping in the snow before jumping into his arms and holding on tight. She was so much older now, so much bigger; her tiny face used to bury into his stomach, but now she had her head tucked up against his chest, staining his jacket with heavy tears.

“It’s okay, mija, it’s okay. I’m here, Daddy’s got you.” Miguel kissed the top of her head. He fought back tears of his own, but did so so pitifully with broken, bewildered laughs and shaking breaths. He pulled back and looked down at her face, her beautiful, beautiful face, and carefully wiped away the wet trails freezing on her cheeks. “I–you–L-Look at you. How’d you get so big?”

Gabi smiled and sniffled as she wiped her eyes. “I-I, um, finally ate my veggies.” She took a breath to try and still the quiver in her lungs between thoughts. “Y-You have so much grey in your hair now!”

A few beats of warm laughter left Miguel. “Yeah, no thanks to you. Spent all this time worrying about you, kid.” His hand, so used to killing and defending, trembled as he brushed flyaways out of her face. "Listen, I–I'm gonna take you somewhere safe, okay? You won't be alone anymore."

Gabriella blinked. Her small hands clutched his jacket. "What? But–"

"She's not alone."

Miguel almost didn’t look. He didn’t really believe what he just heard. But when he risked it, when he managed to wrench his gaze away from his daughter and back to the heavenly light of the front entrance, he saw you. The man who'd been haunting him for years. The man who'd been keeping him warm at night. You, his lover. You, his husband.

(You, the man he betrayed.)

"She hasn't been alone," you said, the words punctuated by hazy clouds of warmth–proof you were alive, that you weren't an illusion, not this time. "I promise."

You looked so, so tired.

But Gwen was grinning, and even Hobie smiled with a lack of irony as he walked to you and gave you a hug.

"My man! Officer tall, sunny and handsome in the flesh!" He clapped his hand hard against your back but you hardly wavered. You offered a smile, and hugged him back, short and sweet.

"Hey, Hobie. Behaving?"

"Eh. Sometimes."

"Good enough for me." You let him go and scanned over all the survivors, your eyes not lingering on anyone for too long. "Head inside. It's warm, there's food. We'll talk. Gabs?"

"Okay!" She hurried to corral everyone inside. "In, in, in, we gotta lock up for the night." Her gaze turned to Miguel as he hesitated, still watching you with glazed eyes. "Daddy, are you–?"

"I'll be there in a second, mija." And, thankfully, his baby girl read the room better than he could have at that age, and let you two be.

You looked over your shoulder, so like a predator making sure his cubs were inside and safe before prowling through the night. A man enchanted, Miguel followed you, watching you re-lock the gates they'd slipped through, and lagging behind while you checked the perimeter with thorough hands. Miguel would give anything to have those hands on him right now.

He didn’t know where to start. "(Name), I–"

"You said you could take her somewhere safe, right?" You asked before you turned that timid, unsure gaze back to him. "You meant that?"

The words took too long to register. "I–yeah, I meant it. I mean it." Miguel forged courage out of trepidation and used it to fuel his journey to you. "We have a colony. The old Alchemax building, you remember?"

"The one that was supposed to get torn down?" You wondered.

Miguel nodded. "Yeah, that one."

You kept walking. "Didn't we fuck in your office there?"

A smile threatened Miguel as he followed like a lost puppy. "We did."

"Ah. Always liked that building. Liked that desk, too." You shrugged. "Comfy, all things considered."

Miguel hooked his finger into your belt loop and pulled you closer to him. "Then you'll be happy to hear it hasn't changed."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You almost laughed, Miguel heard it. But you pulled away from him, and wordlessly finished up the perimeter sweep.

"You should stay the night," you mumbled on the way back. "Pretty sure it's gonna snow."

"Might make it harder to get back tomorrow," Miguel said, following you inside and watching you bar the door again. "We came here by foot."

"No truck?"

"None."

"I'll take you back, then. I got a truck."

"You make it sound like you're not coming." Anxiety gripped Miguel. "I'm not losing you again." He held onto your arm tightly.

You looked troubled, glancing between the hand on your arm and Miguel's eyes. "Did Dana die?" You asked.

Sickness coiled in Miguel's stomach. "What?" But his tone was too deep, too dark.

You shook your head. "No, I–I'm sorry I don't know why I said that, I'm just–"

"We both know why you said that," Miguel said through clenched teeth.

The way you looked at him, eyes full of bristling hatred for the woman who'd stolen away everything from you, set alight an ancient sort of fear in Miguel’s core. It was so like that night, the one where you'd found out.

Gabi was still at daycare. You were at work. Miguel was supposed to be at work, too. It could have been the perfect crime, one full of sinful lust and infinite rapture.

But you came home early.

You didn't even say a word when you walked into the bedroom and found him tangled in the sheets with Dana, with the woman he'd convinced you to think was a surrogate, not someone he was fooling around with and just so happened to knock up. You had that same stare, rotting with hatred, infested with betrayal, all for the woman underneath your husband. Miguel loathed that look, but he found some sick joy in hurting you, too. Because he hated you, for some reason.

Dana laughed when you walked out, some smart comment about how pathetic you were dancing off her plush, scarlet-stained lips. Miguel scoffed a laugh, too. You really were a coward, weren't you?

(But you weren't.)

Miguel finished with Dana, and she left. He heard her say something to you, something light and playful and damn hurtful, but Miguel didn't say anything. Nor did you.

He found you in the living room after he'd pulled some clothes on like it mattered. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, staring hard at your profile while you graced the ground with an empty gaze. Your hands clasped and unclasped slowly. Your head nodded shallowly.

"You're really not gonna say anything?" Miguel goaded.

"What am I supposed to say?" You offered.

Something. Anything.

Miguel laughed, mocking, and sat down across from you, on a mirrored couch, across the glass coffee table you'd picked out together.

"How long?" You managed.

Miguel hummed in thought. "How old's Gabi?"

That got a reaction out of you, something Miguel craved so deeply; your eyelids fluttered in disbelief, and your lips parted to suck in a sharp breath. You looked hurt. You looked like you were feeling something.

"The prenup says you keep what's yours, I keep what's mine, yeah?"

Miguel's smile faded. "What?"

"Gifts fall into that category. I’m keeping the Jeep."

"Wait–"

"I'll find a lawyer in the morning." You got up, and Miguel snapped.

"You're not even going to fucking ask why?" He yelled, pursuing you into the bedroom. "You don't wanna know why I'm fucking someone else? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

You ignored him. Miguel's temper flared.

"Fine! Fine, fuck it, I'll tell you. You don't excite me anymore. You don't try, you don't wanna fuck me, you don't wanna do anything anymore–"

"Miguel–"

"You're not the same man I married. What happened to you? When'd you get so–so pathetic and weak?" He took a pause to breathe. Or maybe gasp, more like, as the stabs of panic started to overtake him. "I hate you. You can't leave me."

He braced on the door, trying to get his bearings on his own, but you were quick to his side. With a strength Miguel loved and adored, you eased him down and fell in slow-motion with his shaky frame secured in your arms.

“It’s okay, Miggs. You’re okay.” Your fingers combed through his hair slowly. You held him tight, and convinced him to breathe with you. In and out. In and out. In and out. He breathed to the rhythm of your heart, as it turned out. Slow and steady. Hurt and bleeding.

“We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

And he believed you.

That’s why he took off the ring, and left first thing in the morning.

Hobie and Gwen passed out after eating their fill of stew. Miguel was beyond annoyed, but couldn't find it in himself to wake them up and leave, not when you were undecided about going with them, but very much wanting him to take Gabi.

Honestly, he didn't think you'd still be hurting after all this time. Dana was something of the past, a succubus that followed the steps of opportunity and wealth wherever it may go. That's why she wasn't with the group anymore. That's why she left him when he needed her most, and jumped in a truck with strangers while he bled out, alone, in the solitude of an abandoned pet store.

Chills raked his spine, breaking off chunks of bone when he thought about it. He'd never been so fucking scared in his life. He wished he could have called you to come save him. He wanted you to be the one to walk in there and find him, crying and dying, because you would have stuck by his side through all of those moments; if he hadn't let his emotions get the best of him, if he hadn't made so many stupid decisions, he would've been with you. If he died that day, it would have been in your arms.

"Hey," you murmured with a gentle touch to his shoulder. Miguel jumped, and your eyes softened. "You okay?"

Miguel swallowed thickly as he nodded. He looked around, grounding his mind through the touch of your hand, the duo snoring and slumped against bags of soil, and the gentle flickering of the propane campfire keeping the space warm. You taking a seat beside him helped, too.

Copper eyes took a moment to pace around the old garden centre; true to the outside, it was more or less untouched on the inside, just more cluttered with haphazard barricades and half-done projects. Miguel watched his ghost walk through the isles, once filled with tropical plants, but now replaced with beautiful, healthy trees raised by your hand. It was no wonder Gabi grew up so strong.

Speaking of--"Where's Gabi?"

"She's in the next room. Watering some seedlings." You smiled for a fraction of a second. "Putting her green thumb to the test. Tryna show her old man up, I guess."

Miguel smiled though his eyes stung. "Sounds like an O'hara."

"Yeah, I thought so, too."

You shared a few broken beats of laughter before silence fell, just like the snow beyond the door. Then, shyly, like you'd never done it before, your arm reached around his waist. Miguel didn't hesitate to lean his weight into you, though, and that arm didn't wait to pull him in closer right after.

"So. You still hate me?" Miguel dared to ask before the dancing cinders.

Your hand smoothed up and down his side thoughtfully, soothingly. Miguel melted against you more with a sweet, content sigh.

"I never hated you," you whispered in return. "Never."

Miguel made a little sound, something caught between surprise and relief, while your words sunk deep into his thoughts. You didn’t hate him. You didn’t hate him.

“Then come back with us.”

“Miguel–”

“There’s no reason to stay here,” Miguel bit out, frustration egging him on. “We have shelter, we have water, showers, rooms, beds–we have everything.”

“What about food?” You asked quietly.

But Miguel didn’t have an answer; food was the reason they were coming out here, to find more ways to create sustainable living, to try and make life work again. He couldn’t help but look at the trees and bushes bursting with colourful fruits and vegetables, showing off years of dedication and hard work through the literal fruits of your labour. Miguel didn’t know how hard it was to get there. He didn’t think he wanted to know.

“...It’s a work in progress,” he grumbled instead of admitting the truth. “But we could use your help.”

Your warm fingers dipped under layers of clothes to find the searing skin of your past lover. To Miguel, it almost ached. He hadn't been touched in so long. He hadn't felt your hands on his bare skin for even longer. It intoxicated him, filled his mind and blood with wants and needs–things only you could fulfil for him.

"I won't leave you hangin', promise that. I just–I need to figure out how this is all gonna work." You looked around the room, taking stock. "Lots of gear we'll need, lots of shit to move. I'll send you back with whatever's already picked. Not worried about the cold with those. The trees are another story, don't want 'em to go dormant while–"

Miguel kissed you. Sloppily, and wantonly, but with genuinity. Your hands scrambled to hold onto his massive frame when he leaned into you and almost knocked you off the discounted garden bench. This time, you were the one who made a cute, surprised noise.

And you were the one who kissed him the second time, but it was smaller and shier coming from you, not so eager to consume like Miguel. Your calloused hand held the side of his neck, and your thumb ran along his jawline thoughtfully when you parted, noses bumping and nudging together in a weak nuzzle.

"I guess you don't hate me anymore?" Your whisper ached Miguel's heart.

"I never did," he confessed.

"Then why did you say it?"

"I don't know." He traced the curve of your lips with tired, weighted eyes. Your cupid's bow had a nice shape to it, so soft and pillowy, meant just for him. "But I didn't mean it."

"I need a better answer than that." You swallowed down what Miguel could only guess to be a tincture of fear and sorrow, or maybe rage and betrayal. "I've lived with–with that for a long, long time." Your eyes glistened with unspent grief, suddenly. "I need more than 'I don't know.'"

Miguel's heart lurched. He hadn't bore witness to the consequences of his selfishness before, not with you, not during his affair with Dana. He'd only seen you grow distant across that coffee table far before that god-awful night. And back then, he wanted a reaction. He wanted something like this out of you, but now, he couldn't fathom why.

"Mi amor, I–it's hard to put into words, and I was a stupid kid, and–hey, hey, don't--don't cry." He wiped away the bravest tear to fall first before you turned away, back to the flickering blaze, and rubbed your face roughly.

"Here's my guess," you muttered. "You wanted to fuck, and I couldn’t–I just–it was hard for me. Or maybe it wasn’t hard, maybe that’s a better way to put it.” You rubbed your face, and held your head in your hands. "The, ah, the medication, the anti-depressants or whatever, they were fucking me up. I didn’t wanna fuck you. I didn’t wanna do anything. Then I was in training to join the force. Wasn't home, and when I was, I was too tired to take care of you and Gabi, so I focused on her. And that made you go back to Dana. Again."

Bile scorched the back of Miguel’s throat. "You knew." A realisation, not a question. "You knew we–that she and I–"

"Yeah, that she wasn't a surrogate.” You picked your head up from your hands and stared at the fire, unseeing. “Because she was dating Gabe at the time, and you were with me." You sighed and let a deep, venomous grief finally escape from the space between your lungs, from the spot where that thing had festered like a disease for too many years.

"I could let it go the first time, turn a blind eye because she gave me–gave us–our daughter, but–the second time? With all the shit you two said?" You shook your head. "I just--I couldn't–I wish you'd just told me what was wrong. I wish I'd told you what was going on with me, too, 'cause I know all the shit that happened is my fault, too.”

"Dad?” Gabi's small, hollow voice rang. The both of you turned to her, but you were the one who got up.

“Baby,” You said with a hushed tone, somehow so comforting but so afraid. “Hey, you done with the watering?”

“Uh, yeah, but…um, is everything okay?” Her gaze flicked between you and Miguel. He could almost hear her little mind firing on all cylinders as she tried to parse what they were talking about. “You look sad.”

You crouched before her and took her hands in yours. “We’re talking through some things, honey, it’s alright. We’re figuring things out.”

A light of worried realization illuminated Gabriella’s gaze. Miguel fidgeted and futzed with his clothes as he looked away, unsure of how to deal with her accusatory revelation. How much did she know? Did you tell her anything? No, no, you wouldn’t do that, you wouldn’t dirty her memory of her father like that. You were a good man. You were a better man than Miguel.

“Oh,” she whispered.

You nodded and brushed some hair free from her freckled face. "We’ll be alright, baby. You just get some sleep, alright? Tomorrow's gonna be a busy day. Lots of loading up to do."

Gabi whispered the softest okay before giving you a hug. She paused for a moment, before running to Miguel and throwing her arms around him for a few precious seconds before running off to the loft to sleep.

You sighed, then, and Miguel did too.

You turned to him. “Look, you–I don’t know why I’m starting shit right after you…you wander back into my life,” you murmured, going back to Miguel and straddling the bench before taking his hand and squeezing. “I’m sorry. And I love you. You know that, right?”

That pang came back in Miguel’s chest, but this time, it was warmer.

December 2nd 3:05am i love you 3:06am i'm sorry

Miguel squeezed your hand back and this time, he was the one tearing up. “Mi amor, you don’t need to–you’ve done enough apologizing already.”

"Miggs, don't say that. I–"

"Stop. Stop it." Your husband straddled the bench, too, and scooted closer to you until he was more or less in your lap, his heavy thighs draped over your own.

"But–" you started, and stopped as Miguel cupped your face with both hands and squished your cheeks. You sighed and leaned into his touch when it eased up. "Baby–"

"Me arrepiento de lo que hice," he whispered to you, "espero algún día puedas perdonarme." He let go of your face, and found your hand to kiss its back. "Te amo."

You smiled. Something real, something happy. Something that stayed around for more than a few seconds, and made the corners of your eyes crinkle with the beautiful way you'd aged. Then, you kissed him.

"Te amo," you murmured back, your lips still touching his. "We'll figure this out. Work it out. We have the time." Your lips pressed against his again. "I'm not giving up on us."

This time, Miguel cried.

It took some time to transport everything to Alchemax. It took a little bit longer to get you there, too.

But you got there eventually, ready to stay for good, and ready to put Miguel's mind at ease.

Your old friends and coworkers greeted you, clasping their hands on your back and hugging you tight until you couldn't breathe anymore. You smiled, too, and asked them how they were holding up, if your husband was keeping things in line. You couldn't help but remind them that you in fact hand the handsomest and smartest partner in the world, too.

They let you get acquainted with the building pretty quickly, probably seeing the haggard, exhausted state you'd lived in for five years and wanting to let you unwind for the first time in a long time. And that called for a hot shower, food, and some sleep.

"I'll take you to your room," Miguel told you as you both left the common area.

"My room?" You retorted, sounding mighty confused and damn near insulted.

Miguel blinked and looked at you. "Yeah. There's enough for–" Oh.

"What's yours is mine, yeah?" You said, stern and a little bit spicy. "Then your room is mine. And your ass is–"

"Câllate," Miguel cut you off with a smile. "I'll take you to our room."

He led you there with a bit of a spring to his step, and you kept up with as much enthusiasm. The room was nothing special, featuring nothing more beyond a mediocre bed, uninspired furnishings, and random knick knacks Miguel had left here over the years. But it was home. Your shared home.

"Huh." You looked around the room. "I think that coffee table woulda looked nice here."

Miguel scoffed a laugh and rested his hand on the small of your back. "You think so? I think it'd clash."

"Yeah, well, you have bad taste, hun."

"Oh, wow, you're really gonna say that when I'm married to you?"

"I'm the one who confessed first. I'm the one who proposed. Pretty sure it's safe to say I picked you." You leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “And I have good taste.”

Miguel felt his face get hot. "Shut up and take a shower."

"Your wish is my command." You set your pack down by the bed before sliding open the door to the ensuite. Miguel watched you like a hawk, his prey drive skyrocketing when he caught swaths of your bare skin peeking out from the washroom. He wanted to watch more, but you deserved a little privacy.

"Oh," you said, peeking out from the doorway. "I, uh, kept my phone through everything. There're some photos of Gabi, if you wanna check it out." You vanished back into the bathroom and Miguel heard the water turn on. "It's in my pack! In the shitty little phone pocket thing."

"Yeah, I–okay, I'll take a look, thanks." Miguel smiled, and rummaged through what you'd brought with you before pulling out that beat up phone with the charger still plugged into it and kept together with bandages of tape. Colour him impressed.

He sat on the edge of the bed and went straight for the camera roll. There were loads of new pictures ranging from Gabriella when she was littler, to pictures of animals that Miguel guessed Gabi had a hand in.

There were old pictures, too. Mostly of Miguel, as embarrassing as that was, but the baby photos took over his reign once that perfect little girl entered your life. It made Miguel wish he’d taken more photos, that he hadn’t thought it was too cliche and embarrassing to capture every moment. He used to say shit like, “Do you have to take a photo? Can’t you just live in the moment?” but you’d stick your tongue out, give him a pinch or a bite on his cheek or something else in retribution. Because you didn’t care, you wanted to look back on little memories.

He scanned through photos until he caught one that sent a rush of red to his features; it was of him, on his back, eyes teary and face alight with a fierce blush as you, well, obviously fucked him stupid. It was the only one of its kind. Maybe you forgot to delete it? Maybe–

The videos. Oooh, now that had Miguel excited. Miguel scanned through the other folders, but found nothing, much to his dismay and relief, seeing as Gabi probably had free access to your phone.

But then, he spied a locked folder.

The first password he tried worked (your anniversary because duh. You were such a sap), and a whole catalogue of videos and pictures were unleashed.

Miguel glanced up at the washroom door before he skimmed through. He remembered all of these places (but the geo tags helped, too. Christ, you were so organised with your exhibitionist porn), ranging from IKEA after closing, to an abandoned amusement park. He still didn’t know how you picked out these places, or how you knew how to get into them without getting in heaps of trouble with the authorities.

He tapped on a video and bumped the volume up a couple notches, just so he could barely hear; it was him on his knees, on a rusty old ferris wheel, staring up at you like you were God himself as he gripped your thighs and did his damndest to give you the blowie of a lifetime. Your sighs and soft moans rippled through the speakers like waves lapping at the shoreline. Present Miguel rubbed his mouth, worrying at his bottom lip before licking the dryness away.

“Good boy,” You whispered on the other side of the camera. Your hand came into view and carded through dark locks before cupping his cheek. Miguel of the past turned into your touch and took your thumb into his mouth while his hand took over stroking your length from base to tip over, and over again.

Miguel swiped to the next video. He was on his back this time, in your shared bedroom, if that duvet cover was to be trusted, while your fingers plunged deep inside of his heat and tore loud moans and gasps from him. He remembered this; you called it an experiment before you bullied his prostate with three, thick digits.

"How's that feel, gorgeous?" You purred. Miguel swallowed thickly, both in the video and in the now. His hesitant hand crept down his thigh slowly, like he was trying to hide it from himself and call it an accident as he reached to palm himself through his jeans while he watched. He almost felt guilty. But that's what made it better.

"Good. Really fucking good." His past self rocked down against your fingers, choking on a needy whine as his eyes slid open, and found you. "I need you, mi amor. Please–"

"I know, babe, I know. I'm almost done here," you promised. You tilted the camera down to his stretched hole to catch what you did next. "Then you can have whatever you want from me."

You pressed your pinky in, then, and Miguel of the present bit his lip as his shocked gasp and shaky cry pierced through the speakers. Miguel still couldn't describe the deranged pleasure he got from having half your hand in his ass, nearly to the point of fisting him.

Miguel switched to a different video quickly. The next one was in the Jeep you loved so much. You were both out camping for the weekend, something you loved and Miguel had learned to love; that stupid red truck became home for so many long weekends, it became host to long hours of napping and intimacy, it turned into one of Miguel's favourite places.

The video started with you adjusting the camera and squinting at it while Miguel’s younger self bitched and moaned in the background.

"I'm just making sure the tripod's working 'n shit, babe, just gimme a sec!" You whined back.

"My dick's getting soft," Miguel threatened, so blasé but annoyed at the same time. "Come on, viejo."

You pulled away from the camera, grinning smug as a fox, and scooted back to your lover. His past self was lounging, hair and clothes already a mess from the prologue to this movie, as he watched you.

"I'm here, I'm here." You kissed him, and Miguel could almost taste the s’mores on your tongue, the coffee on your lips. "Sorry, just wanna make sure it's perfect."

"Oh, yeah, 'course. Gotta make sure your indie porno looks good."

"Hey, one day we're gonna look back on this! It's worth it, baby, trust me."

"Whatever. Just kiss me," Miguel demanded with a laugh. And you did as you were told, kissing his lips, then down his chest, then–

"Knew you'd like watching 'em back."

Miguel jumped, nearly dropping the phone as he jerked his hand away from his clothed bulge. "I, uh–what?" he asked dumbly as he stared at your built frame leaning against the doorframe. God, you were still an impressive specimen. He wished that loose towel would just drop from your hips already.

"Our, ah, home videos." You grinned, so much like that fox from the past, and paced to Miguel. "Nice looking back, ain't it?" You cupped the underside of his jaw and tilted his face up. "Got you a lil' excited, yeah?"

You weren't wrong. With a hammering heart, burning skin, and tingling nerves, he couldn't deny he was stuck deep in a pool of desire and need. And now with you handling him like this–fuck. He was in trouble.

Miguel nodded weakly. "Yeah." He took a deep breath. "Just a little."

“I’ll help.” You eased onto the bed and took great care in settling behind him. "Let the video play," you whispered against his neck before leaving a possessive kiss.

Miguel leaned back into you. He watched you pop open his jeans and slip a hand down, down, down, until your warm palm met his aching length. A shuddered breath escaped him when you felt him up, pulled him free, squeezing and stroking in all the right spots; it'd been so long since anyone touched him. It'd been so long since he touched himself.

"I, ah, don’t think we–did we lock the door?" Miguel heard himself moan in the video, and he dared another look; your head bobbed between his thighs while fingers pistoned into him. He wondered if you would do that to him again. Maybe tonight.

"Nope.”

“Shit.”

"Mmmh. You want me to stop jerking you off so you can lock it?"

"No."

You chuckled. "Okay."

Your hand still worked him slowly and thoughtfully while lovers of the past filled in the rest of the silence. Miguel's hips bucked, and you hummed, so pleased with yourself. Pleased with yourself for pleasing him. Something Miguel found self-value in.

"I think I, uh, I think you mighta been right," he murmured to the air, trying to control his voice. Your gentle hum of intrigue spurred him on. "I think I need you to fuck me more than I realized. Need you to want me, ‘n…take me."

“Yeah?” You asked before sinking a bite into his neck. “Figured you had somethin’ of a praise kink. Makes sense, in hindsight.”

Miguel gasped when you picked up the pace. “Fuck–I’d call it…mmmmn, I’d call it a-a love language–”

“Huh, didn’t know there were six love languages–”

“Sh-shut up, shut up, you know what I–what I mean–!” Miguel bit down hard on the inside of his mouth as his hips rocked up into your cruel, talented hand. He was close. How embarrassing. “I, uh…physical touch. Words of affirmation.”

“‘Needing my husband to fuck me and tell me I’m sexy.’” Miguel moaned and dug his head back into your shoulder as you chuckled. “That sound about right?”

“Viejo,” he whined, setting the phone aside to be forgotten. “I–”

“I know, baby; show me how hard this love language makes you cum.”

It only took a few more strokes for Miguel to come undone. His teeth clattered together as he strained to keep his voice on lock as a forgotten rapture ripped the air from his lungs and electrocuted every vessel in his body. He clung to the other arm that’d come to wrap around his chest and hold him against you while you worked him through the motions, slowing down, accommodating the way his body reacted to the blinding pleasure. There were words said, probably encouraging ones muttered into his shoulder, but Miguel didn’t have the mind to parse the meaning of what you’d said.

“Y’know,” you tried again when Miguel’s mind levelled out, “I think I have a praise kink, too. But a complimentary one. One where I like praising you.” You rested your chin on his shoulder and hummed. “Hm. Who woulda thought.”

“Hah. Good to know you’re still annoying,” Miguel said with a chuckle. He scrunched his nose up when you licked the side of his face. “(Name)--”

“No.” You bit his cheek this time, and he sighed. You did, however, feel his softening cock start to come back to life again. “Want me to lock the door now, old man?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. You got off the bed, letting the towel fall where it may, and Miguel finally gazed upon his lost treasure. “And set up your phone. We need to update the archives.”

You grinned when you turned back to him, and Miguel felt so at ease.

There were still things to work out: the mental illness you hid from him, the cheating Miguel tried to hide from you, the little secrets you both kept wedged in the darkest cracks of your minds. But with you with him, the man who refused to give up on their bond and their love, Miguel felt safe indulging in mindless pleasure you so generously gave to him. Neither of you were about to seal away the past again, but if you could share in the good of your relationship while acknowledging the bad, then hope wasn’t lost; it was found in the moment you’d pulled his old wedding band from your pack, and slipped it back on Miguel’s finger that night, murmuring the words you said in a church so long ago:

“Till death do us part.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr #smut

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 1 year

Text

Yandere Best Friend pt 2

tw: self harm, mentions of violence, general deranged yandere shenanigans, angst

ageless blogs n minors DNI blease tq <3

part 1 here

my masterlist

this sucks bros i broke my fucken leg and i cant move, my cast is so itchy and i cant scratch and i feel nasty cause i cant shower

feeling bads, so thats why i churned part 2 out faster thn usual , its shorter than before but just need some angsty comfort atm

as uaual many errors cause i did not proofreasd

enjoy i hope

You left the exam hall a couple hours later. To find out that your dad left a total of seven missed calls. You thought someone fucking died.

Of course, you called back. Preparing for the worst.

Your father picked up the phone, he explained that it was your friend. He had a mental breakdown because you weren't there for the opening of his dream restaurant. Eventually though, he calmed down enough to come back into the building to return the phone, eyes noticeably dull and tired, worse than before. He never stopped trembling.

The three of them sat down and talked.

Neither of your parents knew you stopped contacting him. They thought everything was fine, so your friend couldn't fault them for that.

Your parents trusted your friend, so they gave him your phone number and told him basic information about you now. Such as, the country you're studying in and the course.

You felt a pang of guilt, but you had to move on. You understood that he was busy, it would probably do no good for you to try and reach out to him. You would just ruin his plan and distract him too much. At least, that was what you thought.

Usually, he would call every day. But that turns to once every three days. Then once a week. Then never.

It's true that he would not miss a single day to send you a sweet message, a reminder to practice self care and that you're very dear to his heart. Which would be then followed by an update to his progress, it was stressful to read what he was going through and that was all he talked about. You felt like his personal diary, he stopped asking about how things were going for you.

Since it doesn't seem to bother him you weren't replying because he would send his texts when the entire world is asleep, you stopped opening his texts too.

You wanted to tell him in person that you're moving out to pursue your studies and you were granted a student loan. A crushing student loan. But... You believe his ten minutes of free time a week is better used for his sleep. Or even going to the bathroom perhaps.

A day passes by another and in the end, you moved on without him. Without telling him. It just always slips your mind every time you see him brisk walking towards his beat up car with a stack of metal trays in his arms. They must be extremely heavy, you could see the veins bulging out of his forearms and forehead.

It was hard to watch his cheeks get sunken in, his hair going back to its' matted, unhealthy state, dark bags forming under his constantly bloodshot eyes. He looked like he aged a decade older from all the stress and pressure. But... He is working towards his dream and you're happy for him. It was great that he finally achieved what he wanted, he deserved all of its glory for working his ass off like that.

You held no ill will towards him, but you grew apart. He was so consumed with work that the friendship suffered in silence, there were no more fun hangouts together at the mall, you don't get to eat his cooking anymore (you didn't want to burden him by buying a tray, he already has too much to do), no more fun conversations about the silliest shit. It was just... Bank loans, revenue, expenses, investors, employees, employers, credit score, mortgages, taxes etcetera. The urgency and distress was also rubbing off you too, there were nights you woke up in a cold sweat because you had a nightmare that your hypothetical restaurant failed and you went into debt.

So you thought, he needed his time. You shouldn't really interfere with anything you don't understand. Your friend is already nose deep in the real world, you're not even close to it yet and you're not ready for it yet either. Therefore, you took the route most young adults take after getting a high school diploma: getting a bachelor's degree in some field of study that you probably don't even like.

You trudged onwards to the direction of your hostel. You need to get ready for your shift, money is a little tight now and you don't want to burden your parents too much. They're already sending a lot of money to support your living.

If your friend knew you were working hard for some extra money, his heart would break. It would be devastating news to him, no doubt, he would at least have a dozen freakouts and breakdowns. But you don't know that, yet.

As expected, your friend eventually called you. It was later than expected; it took him a week before he called your new phone number himself. He needed to calm down and collect his thoughts, as he knew that he might just drive you away if he comes barreling in with passionate yelling and sobbing over the phone. Plus, he also needed to focus on his new restaurant too, he can't just abandon his lifelong dream like that. How else is he going to make enough money to provide for you? He can't take back the money and time he invested in this now, all he can do is keep going and find some compromise.

It was tempting to go M.I.A. and hastily book a plane ticket to wherever you're studying. He was deeply yearning for your presence, he was desperate, he was clawing his arms and decorating them with nasty scars in an attempt to keep the urge at bay. He was extremely miserable but he had to keep going, to build that wonderful, cushiony foundation for you and him to fall back onto.

Everything he does, he does it for you.

He was polite, kind and pleasant during the first phone call you both had in two years. Though, there was a noticeable twinge of hurt in his mildly wavering voice. He still sounded like he's happy and relieved to hear you again.

The call started off with a greeting, then some small talk, then finally to the meat of the call;

Why didn't you tell me? He asked. It seems like he was fighting back his tears.

You didn't answer right away, you don't know what to say.

You could tell him the truth that he was too busy with his endeavors and you just don't feel like interfering by burdening him with "unnecessary information". However, you think that might wound him deeply as you're somewhat blaming him for your own actions.

You could lie... and tell him what, exactly? Either way, it would hurt him even more and there is probably going to be some resentment.

So, you apologized. You kept your reasoning brief and simple; you needed to move on. You acknowledged that whatever you did wasn't very nice of you, but you still had to proceed and you thought that it would be better that you didn't tell him.

There was a moment of silence between the both of you.

On the other side of the call, your friend was wracking his brain, trying to comprehend what you just told him. It came across as you not wanting to do anything with him anymore because you feel unprioritized, unimportant, inferior. Guilt and remorse was eating him up, he is putting all the faults onto himself.

He spiraled downwards in that call, spewing nonsense and absurd promises to destroy everything he has ever worked for just to have you back in his arms. Deranged negotiations involving the idea of blinding, deafening, mutilating or doing some sort of bodily or mental harm to himself to prove something; prove that he puts you above everything else and also to punish himself for neglecting you.

It was horrifying to hear your dear friend babble about putting himself into financial ruin for the sake for your forgiveness. He spoke of his accomplishments and advancements as they were disposable, as if it held no value compared to you.

This isn't normal, far from it, Your friend devolved so much to the point he was making demented pledges to kill and maim your enemies for you, and only you. To eviscerate the ones you dislike and send videographic proof of it, to disembowel his business associates to show that they mean absolutely nothing to him. Mind you, he was talking about real, breathing, living humans.

It was hard to fully grasp the insanity in his now incoherent words, he was muttering apologies and self hatred. Promises of severe self harm was also common in his mad speech. At one point, religion and superstitions were thrown into the mix. But you could not understand what he was chanting about.

What the fuck are you talking about? Your friend didn't pick up on your distress... or words over his excessive tirade against himself.

Everything I do, I do it for you, and I would do anything and everything for you. I love you- You hung up.

You couldn't take a second more of that. It was really difficult to see this side of him. It hurts you too that he became like this, perhaps all the stress from building a business from the ground up fried his mind. Whatever it was, you knew that he is not good for you anymore.

You sent him a final text message telling him that you're not comfortable with him after that massive sanity slippage. You wished him luck and expressed your regrets that it had to turn out this way.

You didn't give him a chance to respond, you blocked him immediately on everything and went on with your day.

Whatever he said kept replaying in your head like a broken record. It was pure horror.

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years

Note

I simply must know, why you needed so many spoons? During your post Power Nap adventure? Is there lore I’ve missed?

So, "Spoon Theory" is a way of understanding chronic conditions and the limits they place on the people who have those conditions ability to do literally anything. It's based on a story by Christine Miserandino told about explaining what it was like to have Lupus that she wrote in 2003. You can read the whole thing here:

But the short version is that "Spoons" is a unit of measurement for the amount of energy (which can be broken down into physical energy, emotional energy, mental energy etc.) someone has available to use to get stuff done. If you're a healthy person, you have a big pile of spoons, if you've got a chronic condition, you have a smaller pile, maybe only a handful.

Every single thing you do costs spoons. Wake up and open your eyes? pay a spoon. Take your meds? pay a spoon. Go to work? pay a spoon, unless there's traffic, then it will cost your extra spoons!

You can see how if you have a huge pile of spoons, you'll be able to do more things before you run out. And if you're ill, you won't be able to do as many things. You *CAN* borrow a few spoons from the future, but you will have fewer spoons the following day, and borrowing too much may result in a permanently smaller spoon pile.

I have ADHD and a couple ongoing health issues, and run out of mental and emotional energy extremely fast. In the story about the real estate showing, I had already borrowed against the previous day's spoons by the time I'd done all the emergency phone calls for my friend that got stranded in Montana. By the end f the day, with the emergency calls to the quilt guilds and SCA, organizing the start of the auction, and the social fracas that followed, I'd borrowed so many spoons that It's probably going to take me a good month or two to fully recover.

It's been about two weeks since that event and I'm still pretty fatigued. I'm needing to sleep a minimum of 10-12 hours per day to feel alright, and I've gone from being able to do an average of 3-4 normal tasks a day to 1-2 per day. It'll be like this for at least another 3-4 weeks, assuming something else doesn't happen to set me back.

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redhairedwolfwitch · 9 months

Text

Photograph of A World on Fire (4) - Andy Herrera x DeLuca!Sister!Reader - Station 19/Grey's Anatomy

Summary: The world might be on fire with a pandemic happening, and you and Andy face loss after loss, but the two of you stick together and become even closer through it all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Request: hey 💓 could you write a deluca!sister x amelia fic where r is a cheeky italian which puts amelia in gay panic mode x

A/n: this diverts from canon like a curly wurly chocolate bar, also mentions a one night stand, there's no smut but it's alluded to, so, read at your own risk, and don't ask me where this happens in canon, because that will give me another headache:) (i gave myself that headache and followed canon slightly... ooof, warning, canon character death incoming)

A/n: to whoever reads this, you are important.

Andy found out her mother was alive, and then three weeks later, a pandemic set the world on fire.

Andy's mother left, and her father told her that her mother had died, rather than her mother had abandoned her due to mental illness.

Your brother and sister were determined to quarantine away from you, and with Andy in a bubble at the firehouse, you were isolated from everyone.

Andy had enlisted herself in distracting herself about her mother by going to an art store, masked up with a list of supplies for you so you could keep making your art from home. Andy didn't know you had gotten out of the car, sitting on the bonnet with your camera, photographing the empty streets.

You didn't know it was the start of one of two projects during the pandemic that would make your career flourish, as you sat in your black attire, watching the funeral of Pruitt Herrera, that due to the pandemic had to be done online. Watching as Andy spoke, you couldn't hide the love in your eyes for this woman. This woman of fire. Your fiamma.

///

Your brother sat on your porch as you sat in the hallway, talking to each other through an open door.

"I found inspiration, for two big projects."

"Two big projects? Wow, that's amazing, angioletta. I hope I get to see them before Carina." Andrew smiled, the pride in his eyes obvious.

"Oh she'd be so mad!" You laughed, remembering the last time Andrew had seen your artwork before Carina did, and how jealous she got despite trying to hide it.

"How's your girlfriend?" Andrew threw you off, almost dropping your snack on the carpet in surprise at his question, but you took a moment before replying.

"She is at a family picnic for the first time in twenty years, and I didn't want to impose y'know. Plus, everyone is so determined to quarantine, I'm isolated from everyone and everything, but my art." You admitted, spotting the sad look on your big brother's face at your confession. You were feeling lonely.

///

"It probably won't help if I tell them that I have a girlfriend too." Andy admitted to her cousin Michelle, whose eyes lit up at Andy's admittance.

"You do? Tell me everything!"

"She's an artist, with two older siblings, who are both doctors, but she is my saving grace in this, this cruel world." Andy confessed, getting her phone out to show her cousin a photo of you, and some photos of your art.

///

Your phone buzzed as Vic sent you a video, getting your brother's attention as you gasped.

"There, there was a tiger, in the firehouse... a tiger... that's not totally terrifying!" forwarding the video to your brother, who checked his phone.

///

Fiamma: you don't have any vagina art, do you?

Cariño: that's more my sister's interior design style...

Cariño: good luck to Maya

///

"You know, on the nights we don't have dinner together. I eat canned green beans for dinner, out of the can." Andy confessed as she watched you stand over the hob, stirring your wooden spoon into something that smelt amazing.

"Fiamma, that's disgusting."

///

Andrew's text sent horror through your body as you read it. He and Carina were following a human trafficker. And nobody was answering their phone. Not Andrew, not Carina, not Andy, and not even Maya. Miranda and Ben weren't answering either, so you ran out of your house, tracking your big sister's phone as you got in your car.

Your brother was good, he was stable, taking his meds, getting sleep. Your sister had moved in with Maya, she was happy as she could be without missing Italy and stressing over your father.

Warren and Maya began to call you as Ben read your message, realising you were going after your big siblings.

///

"Announcement! Uh, Carina and her brother Andrew are... well... they're following one of the kidnappers, and uh, Y/n is going after her siblings apparently so..." Maya nervously explained, about to tell Andy off for hurriedly getting her phone but Warren shook his head.

"Probably going to call Y/n. They're, they're friends."

///

"Carina, Andrew, there's something you should know. Y/n is on her way to you, I'm guessing nobody's kept your little sister in the loop."

"Angioletta? No, she could get hurt. How does she know where we are?" Carina began to panic, hearing what Maya said.

"She's probably tracking our phones." Andrew deadpanned, knowing it was too late to stop you.

///

You knew they were at the Seattle Transit Station, running as you spotted Carina heading through the doors of the station. Speed-walking after your siblings, you barely made it onto the train before the doors shut, quickly making your way up the carriage until you landed in the seat next to Andrew, sandwiching him in the middle of you and Carina.

"What are you doing-"

"You both scared me. Plus nobody knows who I am so..." you trailed off, whispering in Italian to obscure your words to any non-Italian speakers.

The three of you watched as another passenger stood up and moved away from the three of you.

"My first time being profiled as an Italian."

///

"Stay back, angioletta." Carina whispered, as your siblings stood up to follow the human trafficker off of the train.

"Go find Ben and the police, I'm not losing her again." Andrew instructed, leaving Carina to nod and get out her phone. That was Carina's mistake as she took her eyes off of you, who ran after her big brother like she did when she was a toddler.

But Carina lost sight of you both, stuck rallying the first responders. She didn't see what you saw. The man barge into your big brother, and stab him.

"NO! Help! Help! Call 911!" You screamed loud enough that Carina heard you, hurrying over to see you putting pressure on a stab wound. A stab wound in your big brother's chest.

"We're here, we're here!" you sobbed, as Warren got your brother on a gurney, Maya holding back Carina as you curled up on the floor, hands covered in your brother's blood.

Carina cleaned your hands as you sat numbly in the back of the aid car, Maya and Ben treating your brother, and Carina recalling songs from your childhoods to soothe your brother's pain.

///

Sitting in the Grey Sloan outdoor waiting room, you were numb as you saw the look in the approaching doctor's eyes.

Your brother was dead.

///

In grieving, Carina shut down, but you threw yourself into your art projects. Carina had Maya to keep an eye on her, but you...

Andy was there for you. Andy was there when you didn't sleep at night, staring at a blank canvas until you started to paint, she sat and watched you. You didn't want to talk, your big brother was your lifeline.

"Okay, I know your French toast is better, and so is Carina's, but it's the only thing I know how to make for breakfast." Andy explained, bringing a tray into your spare room aka your art room at this point.

"Looks delicious." You managed to smile, but Andy was taken off guard as you pulled her into a hug, burying your face in her neck and not letting go.

"I'm acting captain today... are you sure you'll be okay alone?" Andy asked, her fingernails running gently over your scalp as she cradled your head.

"I have food and water. I just want to paint my grief, because I don't know how else to express it. Talking doesn't work, talking makes me miss him, even if he's with our mama now." You replied, but Andy saw the look on your face when you spotted the red paint on the palette. She didn't see how it reminded you of your brother's blood on your hands as you sat in the aid car, numb and hoping it wasn't his time.

Your siblings may have called you angioletta, little angel, but your brother was the angel among you now.

Your mother called Andrew and Carina two halves of a whole, but you needed both of them. You were away from Carina for so long growing up, all you had was your brother.

Now he was gone, Carina was stuck with the paperwork, and you buried yourself in your art. Minus any red paint, which Andy had removed after seeing the far away look on your face at the sight of it.

///

Carina called you hours later, asking if you had spoken to your father at all. You hadn't, but somehow he had heard two days ago that your brother died, and he didn't call either of you.

Andy found you sitting on your porch on her return home, in the spot where your brother had once sat, with a portfolio she hadn't seen before in your hands.

"Andrew was supposed to be the first person to see my projects, but he's..." you trailed off, opening the first page to reveal the photographs you had taken of empty Seattle streets.

"I've never seen Seattle so empty."

"Exactly." You let out a wet chuckle, holding back your tears until Andy met your gaze with a faltering smile at your crying.

///

Maya Bishop: A Doctor Gabriella Aurora just turned up here

Y/n DeLuca: you'll be okay, it's been a long time since medical school, trust me.

Maya Bishop: Come over and help me?

Y/n DeLuca: i'm having dinner with my girlfriend tonight. i'm cooking too.

Maya Bishop: Girlfriend?

*left on read 4:21pm*

///

"You know your sister has a girlfriend?" Maya enquired as she walked through the Grey Sloan car park with Carina, hand in hand.

"I assumed she had someone living with her. She had two mugs out when I surprised her one morning, and someone gave her a neck bruise."

"A hickey?" Maya raised an eyebrow, wondering how long you and whoever it was had been dating.

"Yes, a hickey. My sister is not a fan of double dates though." Carina added before Maya could get any ideas.

///

"I still haven't met your girlfriend. I even met your ex-roommate before I met her." Andy's cousin Michelle pointed out, after pointing out how Andy had gone to every barbecue and not brought you with her.

"My girlfriend lost her brother and her sister is very protective and doesn't want her getting the virus... and we still haven't told her sister we're dating, or that I moved in so..." Andy trailed off as Michelle's eyes widened.

"Oh so it's serious?"

"She's my saving grace."

///

"My visa expires next month." Carina explained to you, making you flinch. You and Andrew had citizenship, but Carina was here on a visa for her study.

"You have to go back to Italy? They shut down the immigration offices... Carina..."

"Angioletta..." Carina whispered, letting out a squeak as you pulled her into a tight hug, fear setting in that you would lose the only family you had left in America.

///

Carina and Maya were unaware of how well you really knew Andy, until it came to your brother's memorial in the Grey Sloan car park.

Amelia wasn't there, even if she had mentored your brother for a time. You hadn't thought of the neurosurgeon in a long time, having removed all traces of her from your portfolio, your life and your memory.

Whilst Maya held Carina in the car park, you sat on the ground, holding your knees to your chest until arms wrapped around you, and Andy was almost cooing in Spanish, calming you as you clung to her, mask soaked with tears.

Neither of them had any time to judge, but both were unaware you and Andy really knew each other as more than friends. Any assumption they had was wrong. Andy and yourself were well acquainted.

You didn't hide your relationship with Andy. She was at the firehouse a lot, not wanting to bring covid home back to you, since Maya and Carina were further along in their relationship and when Andy had moved in with you, she tried her best to keep you safe.

Everyone wanted to protect you, but they were isolating themselves from you to try keep you safe.

One of your art projects had been inspired by frontline workers, gaining attention online as people wanted to buy the works, the money going to charities to support people during the pandemic... you were flourishing, and your big brother couldn't see it from anywhere but above, whilst your sister and your girlfriend could see it, and you, but chose not to as often.

Your second project reflected another side to the pandemic, photography of the empty streets, void of all life. Almost apocalyptic in a sense.

Andy spent more time with you than Carina did, but you and your sister handled grief differently.

The fire between you and Andy burned brighter than anything else. An eternal flame.

"What are you painting this time? Is that a heart on fire?" Andy peeked over your shoulder, her chin resting on it as her hands hovered over your waist, hesitant to touch in case she messed up your brushstrokes.

"It was supposed to be symbolic, fires of love? Eternal flame? I think I'm better at realism... the portraits reflect that." You shrugged, gesturing to the paintings on the other side of the room.

"You are the sweetest but your sister and Maya should be here in an hour, and you are wearing more paint than clothes." Andy pointed out, her eyes widening as you smirked, walking backwards to guide her to the shower.

"Maybe you should join me, to make sure I get all the paint off."

"I would like that very much, but we need to-" Andy began to point out the lack of time, but you shushed her as you leaned in, waiting until she met you halfway, the hour countdown until Maya and Carina's arrival forgotten about...

///

#andy herrera x reader #station 19 x reader #station 19 imagine #andy herrera imagine #carina deluca x sister!reader #andrew deluca x sister!reader #grey's anatomy x reader #grey's anatomy imagine #station 19 imagines #grey's anatomy imagines

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atmilliways · 10 months

Text

Wrong On The Money (1-3)

parts 1, 2, & 3 of ?? | 888 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Wayne is sick and they don't have the money for the treatment he needs. Eddie, desperate and spread thin between school, a part time job, and dealing, spots Steve outside of a gay club and opts for blackmail. Steve, who has heard about Wayne through Dustin... just sort of lets him.

I started writing this while Ao3 is down. Haven't quite finished it yet, but I've got 6.7k written so far, so I should be able to do daily posts for at least a while!

Now also posted on Ao3.

Quick note, if it helps anyone who might be hit too close to home by Wayne's serious but relatively brief health scare. First, he's going to be fine. I love Wayne, I wouldn't do that to him. Second, Dustin's mind goes straight to cancer when he hears that it's serious serious, but Wayne's illness is never specified. The only symptoms described are basically a cough and general weakness/fatigue.

Dustin is really upset one day after school, the day he tells Steve about his dad.

Steve had never asked, alright? It was family shit, and that kind of thing was. . . . Well, not sacred, he can’t even think that and keep a straight face, but definitely private. There could’ve been any number of reasons why Mr. Henderson wasn’t around.

Turns out it was cancer.

And . . . it’s not insensitive to wonder, right? Steve doesn't know if it’s an anniversary or if someone’s been giving him shit at school about not having a dad or something. So, after a few bumbling questions about why this is upsetting him now, an explanation comes tumbling out.

The leader or president or whatever of the nerd club Dustin joined at the start of the year had to cancel their game this week. “Eddie never cancels, Steve,” Dustin insists, eyes red from crying and voice gone all squeaky. “And we were giving him shit about it, we all were, even the upperclassmen guys, and he. . . he j-just broke, Steve. Said his uncle is r-really sick, bad sick, and I know what that means. They don’t have the money for treatment. He’s Eddie’s only family, and he’s probably going t-to. . . .”

Steve regrets dropping Robin off at her house first today. She might not know what to say either, but at least they’d be in this together. “Dust, that’s. . . . That’s awful.”

Turns out he doesn’t have to say anything else, because Dustin thumps against him and bawls his eyes out.

“It was awful, Robs,” Steve says, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he talks into the phone. “I haven’t seen him like that since after Starcourt, when we had to tell him about Hop.”

Robin’s wince is audible in her reply. “Yeah, that's. . . . That’s pretty bad.”

“Yeah.” He heaves a sigh, hoping it’ll get some of the constricted feeling out of his chest. It doesn’t.

“Steve? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” It’s just, he hates it. Hated it then and hates it now, because both times there’s no way for him to jump between Dustin and this thing. “Everything was starting to sort of feel okay again, and then suddenly there's Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and his uncle, who I’ve never even seen in my life—”

“It’s not about the Munsons, Steve,” Robin says gently. “You and Dustin have that ‘you die I die’ thing. He’s like your kid brother who annoys the shit out of you, but you love him to death anyway. And right now he’s sad but you can’t do anything to help.”

Lifting his face from his hand, Steve looks around the room. He’s on the big comfortable couch in his big fucking house with too many rooms, all empty except for this one. His parents are never home, always away on business trips that got way more frequent after Barbara Holland disappeared from a party he’d hosted. They send money—not an allowance, not since he didn’t get into any of the colleges he’d applied to. But the utility bills are always paid up, and a gardener still comes around to do lawn maintenance every other week.

He wonders how the cost of maintaining a house they don’t live in compares to the cost of whatever kind of treatment Munson’s uncle needs.

Doesn’t let himself wonder if it would make a difference, but he knows that treatments don’t always work. It hadn’t, apparently, for Dustin’s dad.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees heavily. “I know.”

The nice thing about being done with high school and working weekends at a shitty retail job is, Steve can do whatever he wants on some weekdays. As long as he doesn’t have a shift that starts before noon the next day, anyway. Which he doesn’t.

So, a few days after Dustin’s revelations, Steve drives up to the nearest outskirts of Indy. Eventually he ends up in one of those clubs that he and Robin have been researching how to find.

He tells himself that he’s scoping it out before he brings her, but he wants to get lost for a while. Empty his head out of things he can’t do a damn thing about—the Upside Down, the monsters, the Russians, the Munsons, the memories of Dustin crying and, just for funsies, of Nancy calling him bullshit. Because that’s always somewhere in the mix, these days.

Fill it back up with music and movement. Not with drinks, because he still has to get himself back to Hawkins in one piece.

He goes and he dances and he sweats. Sometimes guys dance with him, and Steve goes with it. Who cares? No one knows him here, it doesn’t mean anything.

Turns out, it does mean something after all.

When Steve finally stumbles his way out of the club, he finds none other than Eddie Munson sitting on the hood of the Beemer he’s been buying off of his parents in installments. (Their idea. It’s a ‘pay for it or lose it’ kind of deal.)

The buzzing under his sweat-tacky skin—satisfaction at successfully getting out of his head—fizzles out. He keeps walking and stops when he draws even with the car.

Eddie Munson, looking tired and prickling with restless energy, and exhales a cloud of smoke and vapor into the chilly air. “Hey, man. What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?”

#steddie blackmail fic #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #slow burn #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #eddie munson #protective older brother steve harrington #steve harrington has bad parents #my fanfic

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knottybliss · 2 years

Text

It’s not fire, but it’s something that might keep you warm! In a fit of habitat-unfucking I have pulled together an bunch of projects I have finished that now sit around my house, unworn and yearning for shoulders to hug. Perhaps they will be yours?

This is a Make Me An Offer shawl sale! I’ll give a rough account of what it should be put up for in my Etsy store, accounting for materials and time spent at my current wage, but I am open to offers.

Shawl 1: Dracula Daily

IDK if you’re reading along like I am, but I’m pretty sure we have all had some Dracula Daily posts drift down our dash over the past few months. I decided to make a shawl roughly inspired by both the story and the experience; this one is of my own design.

The body of the shawl is a ripple pattern, the way the phenomenon of this collective group reading has ripples through this site, and brown in the process as this shawl grows from one end to the other. The edges are jagged as the Carpathoans in which the tale begins; the yarn becomes darker as the story deepens. And of course it culminates in blood.

Wool, $30 in yarn and probably 10 hours of work. Math would put it at $270, but you can deforest make me an offer for less.

Shawl 2: I Pink I’m Sick Of This

The beginning of 2022 saw me very ill, moreso than anyone else in the household. This project gave me something to focus on, to keep awake during the day in case I was needed and to keep my hands productive.

The shawl, like my time out of work, ended up far longer than expected. If I drape it over my shoulders (I am 5’2”), nearly a foot on each end trails on the floor.

Silk and alpaca yarn, $26. Time worked unknown, but assuming an average of 5 hours daily for two weeks, 70 hours. $1706.

Let us giggle riotously at that together, and then you can feel free to lowball the shit out of this one.

Shawl 3: Miss Spider Will Be Green With Envy

There isn’t much of a story to this one; the yarn is a Lana Grossa cotton linen that I grabbed on sale for I think $12 a couple years ago. I tried and frogged a couple different patterns because I didn’t like the drape before settling on this one - it had a nice drape and flow.

Hours worked probably…idk, somewhere in the 10-15 range? Let’s say 10, which means it would go in the shop for around $250. But you don’t want to pay that much, so offer me a different amount instead.

My phone is getting kludgy; time to post, reboot, and add more shawls. Check back shortly!

#make me an offer #dracula daily #shawl #handmade #cottagecore

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lokislittlemidgardian · 1 year

Text

Covid

Content - age regression, Covid 19, light swearing, cuddles, ice lollies, angst turned fluff, Roald Dahl, dummy use, don’t like don’t read.

Summary - when you come down with Covid Loki takes care of you.

Authors note - my Covid test just came back positive and I needed something to comfort me, reblogs are greatly appreciated, I hope you enjoy<3

You stayed there for one day.

You stayed with your mum and brother for one day before heading home to Loki.

A day after they informed you that they tested positive.

When you woke up all that was really wrong with you was a bad cough but that was enough for Loki to make you take a test.

“Why do I have to I feel fine” you argued “mum said they were much worse than this so it’s probably nothing, it is winter ill bet money I’m just getting a cold.”

“I’d still feel better if you took a test my love, please for me?” He responded stroking hair out of your eyes.

How could you say no to him.

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

Two lines, there were two lines on your Covid test.

You thought you were just seeing things then the fluid got darker down the bottom, it usually took a minute for the colour to decrease.

But it never did, you were staring at a positive Covid test, it just had to be this week didn’t it?, it couldn’t have been a month ago when absolutely nothing was happening.

You had so much too do, you needed to drop off your overdue library books before the end of the week, you had to give your friends their Christmas gifts and you wanted to say goodbye to your best friend because she was going away on holiday for a month.

And now everything was ruined.

“It’s okay my love” loki soothed you as he held you against his chest his heartbeat calming you slightly.

“It’s not everything’s ruined” you deadpanned “it’s not, I’ll return your books and pass on your presents and you can face time with her, she’ll only be a phone call away” he reasoned placing a kiss to your temple.

“What if I miss Christmas?”you whispered looking up at him with swollen eyes from crying.

That was what it all boiled down to, you really didn’t want to miss Christmas.

Taking a deep breath in Loki softly smiled at you.

“If you have to miss Christmas, then we have our own Christmas just the two of us, that sounds nice doesn’t it, hot chocolate, presents, cuddles and a bit of telly?”

You smiled and yawned nuzzling into his neck.

“Sounds nice dada” you whispered allowing your comforting mindset to take over.

“Aww, is my little midgardian peeking through?” “Mmm” you mumbled “it looks like she’s very tiny tonight” he said chuckling when you nodded your head.

“Can I have an ice lollie please?” “Oh course you can my love but I might crush it up for you is that alright it might just go down easier” “okay”

Once he brought you the crushed raspberry flavoured ice he gently lifted spoonfuls of it into your mouth.

Once the bowl was empty he sat it aside and let himself rest beside you.

“I love you little one, we’re going to get you through this I promise” he whispered letting your head rest in the crook of his neck.

“I love you too daddy, could we watch something please?”

“Of course angel, what would you like to watch?” “Eastenders?” You asked hopefully looking up at him making him chuckle “not while your this little sweetheart, how about a Roald Dahl film?” He reasoned placing a kiss to your left cheek.

“Okay dada” you softly smiling to ill to argue over the telly “which one?” “Gangsta granny” you giggled looking towards the screen “alright darling”

Watching as the colours danced across the screen you felt Loki place your emerald green dummy in your mouth and stroke the hair away from your eyes.

You knew that you would be alright even if your plans went a little bit differently because you had him.

You had your daddy.

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

Taglist - @bootlegmothman420 @littlephia @whippedforhongjoong @youngstarfishdinosaur @patchesofwork @buggyateabug @folklorefairie @friendlyneighborhoodkillerbunny @sparklybuck @2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat @hopelesswritergall @stuckysgirl27 @sleepyprinc3ss @chaotic-little-witch @looksthatkilledd @teddybearsgrr @fluffyblanketgecko

#daddy!loki #cg!loki #little!reader #daddy!loki laufeyson x little!reader #loki x female reader #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki x little!reader #sfw age regression #caregiver #age regression reader #sfw littlespace #little reader #agere sfw #marvel agere

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muttfangs · 7 months

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imo they should teach classes & do exercises in grade school (and college) on human accessibility / empathy / awareness & im not joking they need to conduct this with adults, too. maybe continuing ed or something. just a personal example: I dislocated and smashed my shoulder in a biking accident last week. it has been **infinitely more difficult** to do mundane tasks with one arm, because the entire world is based off the assumption that most people have two working arms list of mundane tasks include: 1. opening pill bottles 2. cooking 3. taking out the trash 4. video games (I literally cant play anything unless it can be done w/ one hand which isnt many lol) 5. texting / using my phone 6. getting dressed 7. getting in / out of the shower 8. cutting up fruit / vegs etc 9. opening plastic packages 10. getting up from a lying down position 11. safely exercising 12. opening cans (if it doesnt have a tab for me to open it w/ im fucked bc I cant operate a can opener with one arm lol) 13. sweeping / mopping 14. doing the dishes (if I didnt have a dishwashing machine in my apartment during this shit........................ fuck me. awful) 15. opening doors 17. drying my hands with a manual roll of paper towels 18. toilet paper 19. standing on the train / bus 20. grocery shopping 21. sleeping comfortably 22. doing shots / injectable medication on myself 23. opening single use eye drop vials 24. using nail clippers and i'm probably missing a lot more bc like. i'm not kidding at all when I say literally every aspect of my life is way harder now i'm not a stranger to chronic pain / illness, but having my shoulder & arm immobile for the next few weeks really has me thinking hard about accessibility. more so than usual. and it's incredibly evident and eye opening just how fucking hostile our day-to-day is to disabled & chronically ill people. I think like. perhaps if in grade school we did something as simple as putting an extra shirt / band / whatever to keep someone's dominant arm down from being used, and then encouraged people to interact with their environments as normal throughout the day-- it would be incredibly eye opening to them as well. and perhaps we could instill more understanding & begin to shift focus to more accessible standards universally it's a simple exercise. but its an effective one. you can try it for yourself and see.

#psa #barking into the void #accessibility #disability #disability justice

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saltygilmores · 7 months

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls- Season 2, Episode 22 (Last Episode of the Season). "I Can't Get Started" Part 4

Aaaaand we've finally arrived at the finish line for Season 2. I began recapping this season on November 25th, 2022, the day after Thanksgiving...310 days ago. SaltyGilmores! SaltyGilmores! Can you tell us a little about how you're feeling as you prepare to begin season 3?

You ever watch a Stars Hollow crowd scene on Gilmore Girls and go, who the hell are all these people and where did they come from?

This is so ridiculously corny and cute. This is what we live for. This is what Gilly Girls is all about. You ever see some of the spicy tight and low cut blouses Lane wears on this show and wonder how Mrs Kim ever allowed her out of the house? I'm asking the important questions today.

R: I'm about to cheat on your ass so hard your head will spin. I am gonna kiss my stepcousin so hard.

D: (pointing to Miss Patty, Babette, and the Stars Hollowans gathered around the piano) How many cocktails caused that? R: None, but when they start drinking we're going to have to hide you. One of ASP's favorite recurring jokes is the one where Miss Patty, left to her own devices, would inevitably try to force herself sexually onto Jess and Dean; it's unclear in this scenario whether that is the threat or if it's "we're gonna have to hide you or she'll make you sing.". But I can take a guess here.

There's another sexual predator who loves tall pretty teenage boys lurking around this wedding that you should be more concerned about.

Dean gets a "We're calling to discuss your car's extended warranty" call and pretends it's someone important on the line so he can keep fooling Rory into thinking he actually has a life. Uh, anyway, it's Paris? Calling Dean's phone? Alright.Rory asks Paris how she got Dean's number but It's never explained. Paris is a wizard.

Sookie is having her wedding on a Friday afternoon. It is a Friday and Rory is not in school (AGAIN!), Dean, Lane and Jess are not at school (AGAIN), Rory is missing ELECTION DAY at school where she may potentially be elected Vice President, Lorelai is not working and making Michel fill in for her, there are dozens of other people attending this wedding who are not working, IT'S A FRIDAY AFTERNOON NO ONE IS WORKING (EXCEPT MICHEL) OR GOING TO SCHOOL THEY'RE ALL AT THIS WEDDING. Also, everyone is DRUNK on a Friday afternoon. Well I can't hate on that. What else is there to do in the Hollow besides drink away your troubles? Headmaster Charleston: Miss Gilmore, would you care to explain these multiple unexcused absences? Rory: Well, two weeks ago I ditched school to take a bus to new york city to eat wieners with my cousin and this week I skipped school to go to my mother's friend's wedding which she scheduled for the middle of the afternoon on a Friday, and I had to stick to my agenda of going to the wedding and kissing my cousin. Paris doesn't directly say that GellerMore won, but Rory thinks it's implied (and we already know they win). She proceeds to notifiy Dean. Who is just...over the moon upon hearing the news.

Well...okay. Fine. I'll take it. Where's the angry posseiveness? Like the time Rory wanted to spend time away from him volunteering? Or spend one night away from him doing her laundry? Or spend an hour eating lunch with Jess? Or.. It's probably because this time there are witnesses around, although that would imply Dean actually has some level of self awareness that his behavior is inappropriate. Speaking of Inappropriate...

Well, that answers THAT question.

...Says the sexual predator, as she drools over him like a dog eyeing a well cooked 6'4 steak.

Don’t drag my girl Babette into this, she's devoted to her Morey. Unlike you two beasts, Lorelai and MP, she has some standards).

Chris Hansen would have a field day at this wedding with all these predators in one place. Why does Crusty's suit look like it's incredibly ill fitting? Maybe it's just me.

STOP IT!!!! I COMMAND YOU TO STOP IT!!!

Lorelai and Crusty are shamelessly swapping spit in the middle of her friend’s wedding reception, sullying the virgin eyes of Rory and a minister and Sookie and God and Lane and everyone else. Lore to Crusty: Stop looking at me like that or everyone here will think we did it! Pretty rich coming from soneone who looks at Dean Forrester the same way. I HATE that I'm recapping this FILTH and don't know WHY I'm doing it. Crusty (before Lorelai's parents walked up and mercifully interrupted them) Do you feel embarrased about last night? Sorry about it? Want to repeat it?

IN FRONT OF HER GOSH DANG MOTHER/GRANDMOTHER OF HIS CHILD. Disgusting, filthy, shameless psychopaths.

Dat's a good question.

I mean, it's a half truth, at least. Now you wanna tell your Mom how he used his daughter's medical appointment as a springboard to dive straight into your pants?

Has he now? Golly gee whillikers, I must have missed that part, must've happened in between all the rounds of projectile vomitting I've been doing.

Lorelai, with the world's worst poker face as she daydreams about her next Crusty Porking, convinces Emily that Christopher is only here to spend more time with Rory and Emily is like well isn't that nice. Are we really supposed to believe Emily is that fucking stupid?

Let's check back in with some of the more non-loathsome residents of the Hollow. Take it away Kirk! Then take ME away. Please.

Rory, for your own sanity and wellbeing, please keep your mind unsullied and pure and don't ask your crusty father questions like this.

Oh Rory. Oh my poor sweet innocent bubs, Rory.

Nobody owns calendars in the Hollow, I suppose. Please see my throbbing, rock hard photographic proof above that this wedding is happening on a Friday. (Not to mention, if it was Sunday...Paris is at school?) I will have to squeeze the remaining four minutes (The Jess Minutes) into one final post. After I mop up my barf. Toodles.

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 2 #rory gilmore #crusty #DALA #anti dean forester #anti crusty #I cant get started

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ourbelovedd · 3 months

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# 🖤 youre all mine, forever.

CHAPTER ONE - WELCOME HOME.

cw: manipulation

word count: 1.1k

PLAYLIST <- (songs not in order!!)

“his red eyes were so enticing, its like i was being pulled into a curse.”

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cairo was so beautiful at night. all the stars shined despite the blinding city lights. now, this doesnt mean that things werent lurking in the shadows at night. there was evil in the very heart of cairo, a very attractive evil. one that would find you and gut you from the inside out for making eye contact with him. to tourists, this was just a myth; a folklore passed down from ancient egypt. But to the citizens of cairo this fear was very real.

every summer was the same, a group of around 200 tourists would come, only half would leave egypt. the summer of 1987 didnt feel any different, the heat was still unbearable and it was still extremely difficult to breath in the heat. this was until you decided to go on a vacation with and your friends. it was just going to be a few weeks, you and your friends going out under the beautiful egyptian sky, nothing could possibly go wrong. Until it did.

you had finally arrived at their hotel, 2:00 AM.

“Holy shit, that took a long time.” your best friend, maggie, croaked.

“Yea but I can’t wait to go out! We are going out tonight, right?” kayla, another friend on the trip exclaimed.

“Sure once we get everything unpacked and ready.” you say.

“Okay cool! Can I just go with my boyfriend and meet you guys there ill do all my shit later.”

“Sure Kayla just be safe alright? Egypt is dangerous at night.”

“Fine. Are you also alright with that maggie??”

“Sure, I dont care.”

“Okay, bye guys!!”

Kayla slams the door behind her, almost getting her giant acrylics and tiny skirt stuck in the door. The air suddenly gets stale as you and maggie sit in silence.

“Hey, im gonna head over to the club with kayla, text me if you need anything.”

“Wait what the fuck maggie? were supposed to go together?”

“Yea but im bored and youre taking way too fucking long. I just wanna get lit already ive been waiting too long.”

you let out a long, dissapointed sigh.

“Fine, I guess just go maggie. Ill call you on the way there.”

“Mkay, bye y/n ill see you there. Facetime me when your on your way to be safe.”

Then, the short brunette trotted her way out the door. She made sure to give you a reassuring smile on her way out, knowing she just pissed you the fuck off.

Not even 20 minutes later, you finally finished unpacking and is ready to go out. you factime Kayla and Maggie to show off her outfit but none of them pick up. You shrugs it off as the two never check their phones. Besides, their boyfriends wouldve been with them so they were probably just making out in the corner or something. You know, just too busy to check their phones.

you finally decide to leave the hotel, in your shiny black stiletos and tight bodycon dress. You honestly looked like an angel. Well, with the amount of black you were wearing you looked like a fallen angel. You had a beautiful pearl hairclip in the side of your head, keeping your sidepart intact. You were offically ready to hit the town.

The moment you took a step out of the hotel, the air went stagnant. Everything was dark and quiet. It was almost scary. You werent afraid though, as you walked through the strangely empty blocks of cairo. She looked around looking for someone.

“Hello? Why is the city so empty? Its barely 3:00..” you think to yourself, the only thing you hear in response is the clacking sound of your heels.

Suddenly you hear something. The sound is similar to faint footsteps, but something about it is off. The sound seems more soft, more inviting. It makes you feel the need to investigate where this sound is coming from. After all, the city is completely empty so it could be one of your friends who hadn’t picked up the phone before.

Slowly, you make your way into the alley where you hear these footsteps. Emerging from the darkness is a beautiful man. He has a perfectly sculpted muscular body, and piercing amber eyes. Or were they red? He had extremely fair skin, almost as if he were translucent paired with shiny blonde hair.

“Hello there, y/n.” The mysterious man, whispers to you.

You clutch your purse. “ Who the fuck are you??? How do you know my name?” You say, practically trembling in fear.

The man approaches you, and even though you are terrified you can’t bring yourself to even move. He places a hand on your shoulder, and stares into your eyes.

He whispers into your ear ,”I am DIO.”

Something about the way he said his name, it drew you in. You felt enticed by this handsome man and decided to question him.

“So what do you want with me?” You ask.

“I just want to speak with you, dear.”

He places a hand on your chin and guides you out of the alley.

“Walk with me.” he demands.

You don’t feel threatened by him at all. Plus, if he wanted to you know, fuck you, you wouldnt really mind a one night stand. After all, he was extremely attractive.

“Come with me back to my home, Y/N. I promise you wont regret it.” he says, licking his lips afterwards.

“Alright, whatever.” You arent intrigued, you know he probably just wants to fuck you, but something feels… off.

Maybe it was the thick air, the fact that it felt cold in cairo. Or maybe it was him. You decided to ignore your bad feeling, as you were probably just being paranoid.

You two finally arrive at his “house” and holy shot is it huge. At this point, its more just considered a castle by the size. Your jaw drops, as you turn your head to dio and look at him. He doesnt look back at you but you can tell theres a smirk on his face.

“Holy shit! Your house is huge!” you exclaim, grabbing onto his huge arm.

“Thank you, I worked.. hard to get it.”

You slowly start to enter the castle, as you think how lucky you got. You might be fucking this hot ass man, and he has a MANSION. You get caught up in your daydreams and can’t see whats going on around you.

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thank you so so so much for reading!! im sorry for the huge delay in writing I lost a lot of motivation but now im back and im gonna be writing a lot more!! next chapter will prob be in 1-3 weeks <33

(kinda of rushed also sorry :,{ )

#jjba x you #jjba x reader #jjba part 2 #dio brando #dio x reader #jjba #dio brando x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #fanfic #im going insane #hes so fucking hot

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safetyobstacles · 5 months

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starting o segredo na floresta now, im either gonna finish this in a week or its gonna take months good luck me

update - i love joui

joui, its a little cloudy out, roll for sanity. joe, you stubbed your toe, roll sanity. joui did you just frown???????? roll a sanity test with disadvantage. that was cool joui, you gain 1 sanity. just kidding somewhere in the netherlands a child tripped and scraped their knee, you lose 10 sanity.

i think im going to put my updates under the cut instead of spamming posts B) beware of spoil

UPDATE

if cellbit takes liz or thiago from me ill never forgive him

this bar has to be its own paranormal entity, thiago would have died if the gun had a bullet in it and cristopher nearly got knifed to death in their first fight loll

EP 2

npc thiago about to be the most useless mf ever i swear if he dies to a stray ant or something ill cry just put him in a box for safe keeping

what would i do without the mental image of joui dropkicking every monster he sees

liz why are you finger painting with the ooze monsters remains and why did it give you 1 hp ?????? NEVERMIND

EP 3

RACCOON bro has 8 health but he sure is happy

faz um teste de sanidade

when i said thiago was gonna die to an ant i didnt actually mean kill him with giant spiders

cristopher no please dont climb a tree these are spiders they can climb nah bro cristopher is dead af im gonna miss him. bro cellbit just kill him already bros dead 2 hp

damn

ep 4

at this rate luba doesnt even need to roll sanity we all know hes gonna fail anyways joui's having the worst two days of his life

jesus christ i just woke up i cant handle this shit cesar's punching a hole in my itty bitty heart bones

please stop talking about leticio's cacetinho

EP 5 how long is too long for a tumblr post btw

the starting soon screen replaced cris with arthur notlikethis

cellbit is far too happy about them going to this house i hate it i hate it

i would like for them to leave a casa now :))) they got gregório time to go :) DAMN JOUI JUST GOT STEAMROLLED BY THAT ZOMBIE ROLLED A 99 VS CELLS 1 jesus christ thiago LOL NO WAY GREGÓRIO IS DEAD AF bro was just taking a nap in the car and this is what he gets

that was horribly stressful its 3 am how am i supposed to sleep after that

to be fair, if i was rodolfo and liz didnt use the tazer, i would have just dragged gregório in front of arthur and killed him in right in front of his face soo...

ROLLED 100 LOOOOOOOOOOOOL a caverna

COOL GUY ALERT HOPE HE DOESNT KILL BRULIO HAHAhahaaa

EP 6 I HAVE GREAT ANXIETY THIS MESTRE GUY IS ABOUT TO KILL HALF THE SQUAD

luba i know youve been rolling absolute dog shit the last 5 episodes but this one really counts buddy brulio :(

most stressful hour of youtube ive ever sat through i cant believe they all lived

A PORTA FORTE

EP 7 im so glad they're going back to the house im so happy ive never wanted anything else this is great nothing could go wrong in this house nothing

7 episodes in and ive just now realised that he keeps talking about circles and spirals and those have significance with a certain element and now i want them to leave carpazinha go back home forget this ever happened

undressing with the homies in the haunted basement next to a dead old man

not thiago canonically talking to a bookshelf after complaining about joui's whispering to his shotgun

THIS GRAVE IS SO COMPLICATEDDDD I BET ITS FUCKING EMPTY THEYRE ARGUING ABOUT HOW TO "knock out" AN OLD LADY AND ITS PROBABLY JUST WORMS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE GRAVEEE

this whole graveyard scene has me in tears thiago staring at nothing while they try to get him to unmute, old guy on the phone, joui picking up the old lady i just laughed so hard i feel ill

the one time joui doesnt fail a roll he loses 6 SANITY?? 8 SANITY?????????????? SENHORA VOCE TA BEM????? YOU JUST CHOKED HER OUT JOUI WAIT SHES GONNA DIE??????????? SHES GOING TO DIE???????????? THE GASOLINE IN THE MOUTH??

grounded from the shotgun for 1 week

EP 8

Thiago's pants are still fucked up from last episode btw

about to have a tpk over alchohol poisoning

if cesar survives this campaign hes gonna put as many points possible into forgery

a caverna im goign fuckign crazy the god of tdeath pr spomething is in this cave theyre gonna walk inside trip on a pebble and get eaten by hundreds of tiny cave beetles

Victor is absolutely about to get his face eated by a spider and/or be swallowed by the cave

ok but santo berço looks kinda cool like i would live there

EP 9 he just (re?)released osnf merch but i refuse to be spoiled by absolutely anything ive done so well i will not be tainted by cesar's really cool green on black long sleeve

wait i love the gatekeeper its a shame this town is probably a hallucination and theyre all actually slowly dying in the middle of the forest GIANT COWS I LOVE THE GIANT COWS WITH REGULAR SIZED HEADS

????????????????????????????????FELPS??????????????????????

buttery butter

thiago this is why you should have quit smoking

?????FELPS?????????

EP 10 so if thiago hadnt used the lighter would felps still be alive, probably just would have died later B)

bro joui has got to buy new dice this is crazy

this is gonna be the average 2 star motel experience BRO JUST DABBED ON CESAR liz is about to get bodied by the hallway ghosts this is just like a regular motel HUH UHHHHHHH

no joui kill the hotel guy joui kill the hotel guy joui kill the hotel guy joui kill the hotel guy joui kill the hotel guy joui kill the hotel guy

mom i want to go home i dont want to stay in santo berço anymore jesus christ

EP 11 how am i supposed to just start the next episode after that i think the mental image of brulio beating arthurs skull in is burned into my brain space

sandwich sandwich

i love the giant cows so much i want one GIANT CHICKEN LAY GIANT EGG I LOVE THE GIANT CHICKEN intimidating the human sized pig

EP 12 still thinking about how cellbit thought new zealand was so close to europe, he was so sure of it that he was making me unsure of where i knew new zealand was

both times thiago was played by cellbit some horrific shit happened so with arthur being an npc this episode im prepared for the worst also this starting soon screen is fucking wicked

are you telling me joui's max sanity is now 12 bros been losing it for so long hes stuck like this joui is the "damn, you live like this?" meme

CELLBO ROLEPLAYED TOO HARD HIS HEADSET JOINED AS AN ENEMY AND BEAT HIS SETUP

"that sounds like a book title" bro let the intrusive thought win

baby nidere

no way the cow has been suffering this whole time ill cry

theyre about to rp their way into an angry medieval mob when they get found with the body of the dead gatekeeper B) does santo berço have dungeons, bc if they do thats where theyll be sleeping tonight nvm the gatekeeper has demons inside him sorry joui HUh no way they killed the gatekeeper dude wtf

EP 13 chat's a bit excited to go in the cave guys if anyone reads this what am i supposed to do once i finish this season. what do you mean i just have to go onto desconjuração. what do you mean i have to leave this story behind. please let me keep all the characters in this one.

THE CAVE MAP IS COOOOOOL THE LIGHT MOVES WITH THE MINER everyone struggling to flip their characters 5 mins into the cave made me laugh so hard i had to pause to breathe

I LOVE MOLES DUDE THEYRE SO COOL ok but i dont love this many moles BRO I LOVE MOTHS TOO THIS IS AWESOME wait no i hate bats THIS MOTH IS SUFFERINGGGGG

THE SUCC hes about to kill them all with the Succ out of spite thiago never mock one of cellbit's monsters again ARTHUR ZIUM

door door door door door door door door door door the gatekeeper is alive???

ih arthur nah dude let go of cesar :(((((((((((( gotta hand it to arthur hes survived two of these situations now get it, hand it to him, CAUSE HE LOST HIS FUCKING ARM WTF HIS ARM DETATCH LIKE A LEGO sorry i vote we still kill the gatekeeper just in case just to be safe

EP 14 did cellbit have a past traumatic experience with a vacuum is that why he created the Succ

agatha?????? bro agatha's life sucked big pp

every time cellbit says hes excited for something i grow more afraid

if they kill and eat the gatekeeper would he also taste delicious just wondering

i think i might know the reason why 12 sanity joui has a funky grey form but 55 sanity thiago doesnt, but maybe im crazy nevermind thiago had the funky grey within him this whole time wait does that mean hes gonna die if santo berço dies DAMN

joui just really wants to see thiago naked also hes just blatantly stealing arthur's knife he really is losing all his sanity that was possibly the most unconvincing "nada" ive ever heard

EP 15 before i start a new episode i always go to the vod on twitch and watch the memes first so i can go "hehe" for five minutes, and then go "oh no" for the next 4 hours

hypothetically, if joui managed to get the symbol on him before anyone noticed would he have just lost all 12 of his sanity and gone mad cuz that would have been crazy :,)

this is it cellbit is finally going to kill npc thiago joui is so very happy about his shotgun i thought maybe he was getting better but hes whispering to it again

alright whats up with cellbit and the outwards opening doors because i swear i have never seen a door that opens out instead of in, are all the doors like that in his home these doors are made to have creatures attack from inside ih i just checked like 3 times to make sure i was on the right episode lmaoooo

"pobre martha" DAAAAAAMN MARIANA ICE COLD

one buff woman vs all 3 equipe kelvin who will win (1 woman) crazy that equipe kelvin managed to accomplish what took our group 9 episodes to get to lool they even got the leticio cacetinho dlc, but they did skip the spider boss fight and the entire house level

THE BLACKSMITH IS MIGUEL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

EP 16 the joui, liz, and arthur cosplay look like theyre going to a nice dinner meanwhile thiago, kenan, and cesar just look homeless

idk if thiago's making it out of this one :,) maybe we just take thiago's weapons its not like he can do much to help anyways kenan wants to skin him listen brother i dont think thats gonna work im at the 52 min mark and cellbit is acting sus af the blacksmith is about to appear and stomp them all or something

joui would roll a 99 and nearly knife cesar and liz is trying so hard not to metagame her way to the explosive backpack loving how trigger happy joui is right now go on guys give him more explosives what the worst that could happen

is kenan also a wellspring do they have to kill him cuz thats gonna be kind of awkward and on that note since thiago has the symbol on him does that make him a wellspring too ill cry i will cry

NOT JOUI APOLOGIZING FOR LYING ABOUT HIS SAMURAI ANCESTRY

damn that scene between joui, liz, and thiago was the best in the entire season

i would like to take this moment before they all get swallowed alive by some horrible sludge tentacle monster to proclaim my absolute hatred of Santo Berço. I know i said at the end of episode 8 that i thought it looked cool but im over it ive moved past that point in my life i hate Santo Berço

BIG GOOEY MEATBALL

"the people are happy here!" says the blacksmith as he currently has 5 people forcefully locked up for decades that have gone mad with probably no way of ever regaining their sanity i just realised miguel and the old blacksmith fucked so hard they had a kid

final boss aboutta come crawling out of the meatball please stop trying to skin thiago the symbol isnt gonna come off

THAT WAS SICK AF THEYRE ALL DEAD AS HELL

???????????????????? "kenan you have one last sane move before i take your character and throw him off a cliff"

post i made after i finished osnf (made like 3 days later because i was so so so so so so so so so so sad)

https://www.tumblr.com/safetyobstacles/739056899257942016/i-finished-osnf-after-almost-2-months-and-you-know?source=share

#ordem paranormal #osnf #really excited for this tho #first series got me hype #manteiga na manteiga

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