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ambrosiagoldfish · 2 months

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I've never sent a request before, but I'm fiending for more adam, like anything, anything at all

Benefit of the doubt

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Angst(?), Not exactly fluff at the end but it gets better, typical Adam TW’s, reader low-key high-key has a complex about being loved, this is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader. (Also Y/n isn’t used, which also surprised me, the author, LMAO)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1760

A/N: Hi! Thanks for the request! I haven’t had a chance to write something that was originally my own idea in a while, so this was very refreshing! I��ve had this idea since I’ve watched the show so I hope you enjoy it!

I’m entirely up for making a small series from this oneshot, but I would need to know y’all’s opinion on it! (So don’t feel scared to let me know if you want some more of this idea in my Request box/the replies on this post!!)

Also Adam may be slightly OOC but please just chalk it up to him not yet getting his ego’s dick sucked 24/7

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy, let me know if you do!

Proofread but of course could have left mistakes!

You’ve existed for almost all of human existence, Almost.

You were the 4th being to be created during the time of Eden. But unlike the other 3, you weren’t human. In fact, you technically never lived before. An honestly hopeless existence, yet it was so beautiful in every way. But for what purpose? Well…

You were created shortly after Eve ate the apple, before she and eventually Adam committed the first act of sin that caused evil to latch onto humanity like a leech.

The reason for your existence was simple. To be Adam’s new spouse, except for when after he died. From the very moment Eve bit the fruit of temptation, it was already decided she would hold no place in heaven. Adam was given mercy due to him not possessing any knowledge of the fruit Eve had shared with him, he trusted her wholeheartedly. Which is exactly why heaven gave him mercy… no, pity would be a better choice of words.

Upon your creation you learned immediately of the happenings before your existence. About Lilith and Eve, and about Lucifer

And so, after Adam and Eve were casted away from the Garden, they continued to live their lives, fostering the existence of mankind for the rest of time. And when they eventually died, Adam was given pity while Eve was thrown to the wayside, the vast unknown.

You thought it was finally your time to experience existence with the one you loved, the one you were made for. Of course you never would know life as he did but surely your life never-after life could be just as meaningful as his.

How excited you were, how completely enamored by the thought of it. But there was a problem with that, Adam had grown into a new person, he was meant to of course, he was human. But he had grown selfish, abhorrent… insecure.

You understood why, to be betrayed by not one but two of his wives for the same person. You couldn’t possibly imagine what he could be feeling. Before you were to meet your future husband, Sera informed you that he had asked for a mask, and once on, he has refused to take it off.

That didn’t bother you, it’s irrelevant to your love for him. You've only heard descriptions of his features. Short Brown hair, gold eyes, bushy eyebrows, some scruff on his chin. All in all, he sounded perfectly fine, ordinary even. But even then it’s his choice to wear the mask, so you’ll respect it.

Finally, the time he arrived in heaven, and when Sera finally introduced you, his new spouse, the one to whom would be by his side for the rest of forever.

He rejected you outright.

“What?” Your breath hitched as you stuttered over the word, the sharp inhale of your lungs through your mouth flicked through the air.

Sera looked just as shocked as you but she quickly regained her composure “What is the meaning of this Adam?”

“If you think I’m going to let my life get fucked over by another one of your “gifts” well, you’ve got another thing coming!” He crossed his arms and shook his head defyingly. “I’ve already learned my lesson with those last 2 bitches.”

“Adam I’m sorry that happened to you but I would never-“ almost like lightning his finger shot to your mouth, shushing you.

“Save it, Sweetcheeks, I really don’t care what you have to say, so just stay there and look pretty, k?” His hand fell and grabbed the sides of your face, squishing your cheeks together, his LED mask flashing a sharp smile.

You saddeningly looked down at the clouds below you.

“Adam!” Sera’s voice sounded through the air, still soft but firm, she continued, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Divine judgment allowed you to be the first human soul in heaven, so I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I expect you to give your new spouse that same grace.”

Slowly your eyes looked up at Sera with a soft smile. Adam only groaned “Ugh, Fine but don’t be fuxking annoying, capiche?” You nod your head quickly.

“Very good, glad we have it settled.” Sera gives a quick smile, “now, I have some business to take care of so I’ll leave you two alone to get to know one another” With that, Sera flew away leaving the both of you alone.

The silence was thick in the air, the only sound being the occasional wind breeze blowing past. The sunlight creeps in through the clouds painting an orange sky above you both. In every sense of the word, it was perfect.

It was almost funny. You had waited so long to finally meet him, your true love, the one you were made for. All the things you dreamed about, the laughs you’d have together, the warm embrace of the person who you loved. But now… you didn’t know what to say…

“I’m… happy to finally meet you.” Your voice is quiet, almost non-audible. “I’ve been waiting for you since… well, forever…”

He doesn’t respond. He seems to be transfixed on something below you both. You train your eyes on whatever he’s watching only to see the dark cavernous abyss below you. Finally he breaks his silence.

“The fuck is that?” He asked pointing down, a sound of genuine intrigue hidden behind his abrasive voice

“That’s hell?” You stated confused “where would-be sinners will go to be punished, didnt you k-“ you suddenly realized that perhaps Adam really didn’t know what hell was. It was only created relatively recently, after Eve and Him ate the apple, of course he wouldn’t know. “it’s also where Lucifer-“

“Don’t fucking say his name.” Adam spoke, his voice rough in his speech. LED mask putting a harsh frown on his face. “Let’s get one thing straight M”Kay babe, if you’re my “new spouse” that’s something you should remember.” The “new spouse” was said with a tone clearly meant to mock you.

“Sorry…”

“Ugh, It’s fine, just don’t do it again.” He groaned before a wicked smile crept onto his mask “Sooo, that means he’s going to be stuck with all the wasteful beings of existence, HA fuxkin’ hilarious. Guess that makes them the losers and us the Winners!”

His laugh filled the air, the sound was like music to your ears, sure maybe it wasn’t really what you’d hoped he’d fine funny, but you loved it all the same but eventually his laugh died down

Silence again… in admits of all of it you suddenly was sparked with a thought “oh!” Adam looked confused at the random exclamation. “I had almost forgotten… I brought you something, as a welcome gift or was it a nice to meet you gift? Both? Eh, it doesn’t matter but the point is-“ you suddenly snap your fingers.

Golden light began shining, the light seemed like liquid hot magma as it moved and molded slowly into a shape. Light seemed to be overlapping and churning into itself, forming your desired outcome. With one final snap of your fingers, the gleaming gold liquid took hold, and quickly hardened to a solid.

The object that had formed quickly fell down, landing in your arms with a light thud.

“I’m still learning this creation stuff, so I’m sorry if it’s not perfect but-“ you hold out the object in your arms as an invitation to grab it “I learned from Sera that you liked to play guitar when you were alive, so I thought you might like to have one here…”

Adam looked at the instrument in your hands. The base color was gold, the neck was pearly white with gold strings. To be honest it looked more like a harp then anything, like if a guitar and a harp had a baby.

Silence again. Did he not like it? Did he hate it? You go to pull it back to you and apologize when suddenly it’s ripped out from your hands.

“Holyshit, this is sick as Fuck!” Adam immediately started playing some rifts on the new guitar. The sound wasn’t what you were expecting but you guess Sera was right about his talent with the instrument. The whole time his mask had a wide and sharp smile as he mimicked guitar sounds with his voice, the occasional laugh leaving his mouth.

“I’m really glad you like it” you say, a sigh of relief leaving your body.

Adam looked at you, one you missed. He saw how relieved you were, how nice you were being. No person who supposedly loved him ever gifted him something, well, one other did. Someone he trusted and loved more than everyone, anyone. But look how that ended, with them being removed from the garden, away from an eternity of happiness until he died. All from someone giving him what he thought was nothing but love, a gift.

But he could see that this was different, you were different. When Eve gave him the apple, she didn’t explain what it was or why she wanted him to eat it, even when he asked her she didn’t explain. But with you, you had not only given him something you knew he liked but also expressed the reason behind it. Yes, you were different, even Adam could see it.

“Anyways, thanks for the axe, I guess…” Adam for the first time was stunned, but quickly he continued “What was the thing that Sera chick said about me and “divine judgment” or whatever the fuck? That she gave me the “benefit of the doubt…”

You were a bit confused but continued listening, “I guess I should at least try to give you a chance, since you got me this sick ass guitar an’ shit.” Your face lit up, you about began to speak before you were, once again, shushed “B-B-But-” his finger tapped your lips with each repeated syllable ”-only a chance. If you betray me like those last 2 bitches then you’re done, got it?”

To say you were overjoyed would be an understatement, a smile quickly plastered across your face as you quickly nodded your head

“Alright good, so uh, what do ya say about showing me the best places to get a bite to eat around here, I could really go for some ribs right about now.”

“ I’d… love to, thank you Adam”

“Yeah don’t mention it Sweetcheeks” Adam quickly wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you two began walking.

Maybe you will get your eternity of happiness.you can only pray you do.

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cy-cyborg · 8 months

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Writing and drawing amputee characters: Not every amputee wears prosthetics (and that's ok)

Not every amputee wears prosthetics, and not doing so is not a sign that they've "given up".

It's a bit of a trope that I've noticed that when an amputee, leg amputees in particular, don't wear prosthetics in media its often used as a sign that they've given up hope/stopped trying/ are depressed etc. If/when they start feeling better, they'll start wearing their prosthetics again, usually accompanied by triumphant or inspiring music (if it's a movie). The most famous example of this is in Forest Gump, Where Dan spends most of the movie after loosing his legs wishing he'd died instead. He does eventually come around, and him finally moving from his wheelchair to prosthetics is meant to highlight this.

The thing is, it's not that it's unrealistic - in fact my last major mental health spiral was started because one of my prosthetics was being a shit and wouldn't go on properly, despite fitting perfectly at the prosthetist's the day before. I'm not going to use my legs when I'm not in a good headspace, but the problem is, this is the only time non-prosthetic using amputees ever get representation: to show how sad they are. Even if that's not what the creator/writer necessarily intended, audiences will often make that assumption on their own unless you're very careful and intentional about how you frame it, because it's what existing media has taught them to expect.

But there are lots of reasons why someone might not use prosthetics:

they might not need them: this is more common in arm amputees because of how difficult it can be to use arm prosthetic, especially above-elbow prosthetics. Most folks learn how to get on without them pretty well. In fact, most of the arm amputees I know don't have prosthetics, or only have them for specific tasks (e.g. I knew a girl who had a prosthetic hand made specifically for rowing, but that's all she used it for).

Other mobility aids just work better for them: for me, I'm faster, more manoeuvrable and can be out for longer when I'm in my wheelchair than I ever could on my prosthetics. Youtube/tik tok creator Josh Sundquist has said the same thing about his crutches, he just feels better using them than his prosthetic. This isn't the case for everyone of course, but it is for some of us. Especially people with above-knee prosthetics, in my experience.

Other disabilities make them harder to use: Some people are unable to use prosthetics due to other disabilities, or even other amputations. Yeah, as it turns out, a lot of prosthetics are only really designed for single-limb amputees. While they're usable for multi-limb amps, they're much harder to use or they might not be able to access every feature. For example, the prosthetic knee I have has the ability to monitor the walk cycle of the other leg and match it as close as possible - but that only works if you have a full leg on the other side. Likewise, my nan didn't like using her prosthetic, as she had limited movement in her shoulders that meant she physically couldn't move her arms in the right way to get her leg on without help.

Prosthetics are expensive in some parts of the world: not everyone can afford a prosthetic. My left prosthetic costs around $5,000 Australian dollars, but my right one (the above knee) cost $125,000AUD. It's the most expensive thing I own that I only got because my country pays for medical equipment for disabled folks. Some places subsidise the cost, but paying 10% of $125,000 is still $12,500. Then in some places, if you don't have insurance, you have to pay for that all by yourself. Even with insurance you still have to pay some of it depending on your cover. Arm prosthetics are even more expensive. Sure, both arms and legs do have cheaper options available, but they're often extremely difficult to use. You get what you pay for.

they aren't suitable for every type of environment: Prosthetics can be finicky and modern ones can be kind of sensitive to the elements. My home town was in a coastal lowland - this means lots of beaches and lots of swamp filled with salty/brackish water. The metals used in prosthetics don't hold up well in those conditions, and so they would rust quicker, I needed to clean them more, I needed to empty sand out of my foot ALL THE TIME (there always seemed to be more. It was like a bag of holding but it was just sand). Some prosthetics can't get wet at all. There were a few amputees who moved to the area when I was older who just didn't bother lol. It wasn't worth the extra effort needed for the maintenance.

People have allergies to the prosthetic material: This is less of a problem in the modern day, but some people are allergic to the materials their prosthetics are made from. You can usually find an alternative but depending on the type of allergy, some people are allergic to the replacements too.

Some people just don't like them.

There's nothing wrong with choosing to go without a prosthetic. There's nothing wrong with deciding they aren't for you. It doesn't make you a failure or sad or anything else. Using or not using prosthetics is a completely morally neutral thing.

Please, if you're writing amputees, consider if a prosthetic really is the best mobility aid for your character and consider having your characters go without, or at least mix it up a bit.

For example, Xari, one of the main characters in my comic, uses prosthetics unsupported and with crutches, and uses a wheelchair. They alternate between them throughout the story.

#disability #disabled #id in alt text #writing #writing disability #disability representation #authors of tumblr #write #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writer #creative writing #writing tips #writing resources #writing help #writing advice #writing disability with cy cyborg

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pinkie-pop · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel idea: Morningstar! Reader

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Platonic Hazbin Hotel x Reader, Yandere Hazbin Hotel

Reader's design

Link to part I

Haven't you ever wanted to transmigrate into the world of your favorite media? Of course you have! Otherwise, why would you even be here?

It's a story we've all seen before. Someone dies and wakes up in a new, exciting body, in a new, exciting world!

You've seen it all before. But you never thought it could actually happen to you.

There's a baby crying somewhere in the room.

You're staring up at nothing, the most gorgeous chandelier you've ever seen in your life hanging from an unfamiliar ceiling. It takes you a moment to realize it's actually a baby mobile.

What kind of rich freak buys something that elaborate for a baby? You're in a strange place, that's for sure.

The crying gets louder. You reach to cover your ears, only to stop dead in your tracks as you realize just how small you are.

No way...that baby...is it you?

[More under the cut]

So, this is really happening, huh? You've reincarnated (or something) into the body of some (assumedly very) wealthy family's baby.

This.

Fucking.

Rules.

You're no stranger to the transmigration trope, having read countless light novels and webcomics during your time on Earth. You know what to expect—a loving family, beautiful male leads, and more money than you could ever spend. Of course, you'll miss your old life and friends, but honestly, who could turn down a life like this? You were (re)born with a silver spoon, and you plan to take full advantage of it.

The crying gets even louder, and you realize that you're hungry. It's a different kind of hunger than you've ever felt before. It almost...doesn't feel human.

But that's silly, isn't it?

You've been born with a silver spoon, who could ask for more? You will yourself to stop crying, but it only gets louder and louder as the hunger grows.

The door opens, and the most gorgeous woman you've ever seen steps inside. Judging by her attire, she must be someone of high social standing. Is she your mother?

"Aw, hush now little one, Mommy's here," she says, picking you up and rocking you gently. The crying ceases almost immediately, leaving you feeling slightly irritated. How come this woman has more control over your body than you do? You don't have very long to stew in your irritation, however, as the woman pulls out a bottle from seemingly thin air, a dark red liquid gently sloshing around inside.

You're no expert, but you can say with 99% certainty that that isn't milk. You don't know what it is, honestly, but you do know that it's the most appetizing looking thing you've seen in your life.

The woman, your mother, places the bottle to your lips, and you lap it up greedily. "Hungry, are we?" She asks. You obviously don't respond. Even if you could, you're far too focused on drinking down every last drop of whatever is in that bottle to pay any attention to what she's saying.

Finally, your hunger satiated, you finish the bottle. Your mother poofs it out of existence, but you don't have time to think about the potential existence of magic before the door opens again.

"How is our little one?" A male voice (your father, most likely) asks. It sounds familiar, but you can't quite place it.

"They've got quite the healthy appetite," your mother responds, turning to show you to the man.

Your eyes grow as wide as saucers.

Lucifer...?

A/N: I'll write more of this if it gets popular. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist

#hazbin hotel x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lilith #hazbin lilith #charlie morningstar #hazbin charlie #hazbin alastor #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #vaggie

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steveshairychest · 1 year

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Let's pretend that the upside down doesn't exist for a second.

Eddie still befriends Mike, Dustin and Lucas at school, but he doesn't meet anyone else. He knows of Steve Harrington, knows that he used to rule the halls of Hawkins High but, despite Dustin's constant begging for Eddie to meet him, he never really does.

Sure, Steve waved at Eddie whenever he dropped the kids off at hellfire and he offered to change Eddie's flat tire once, but that's it. After Eddie graduated, their paths never really crossed again.

Not until years later when they're both older and wiser and a little bit drunk in a bar far from the prying eyes of Hawkins.

Eddie bumps into a tall woman at the bar and the countless apologies he had ready instantly died on his tongue when she turned around and gave Eddie a dazzling smile. "Hi, Eddie. Didn't think I'd run into you here." She says with a light laugh. She has a really pretty laugh, and smile, and eyes and her hair looks so soft.

It takes Eddie's brain three business days to reconnect and realise that this gorgeous woman knows his name. He hadn't introduced himself, and yet she is smiling down at him like they're old friends.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" He waves over the bartender and orders himself and the mystery girl a drink.

She thanks Eddie for the drink and leans in closer to be heard over the music. "We went to high school together but I've, uh, definitely changed since then." She laughs and it's clear there's some joke he's not getting but he laughs anyways. He doesn't want her to walk away. He needs to know everything about her and he's trying so hard to remember everyone he went to high school with.

"Did we really go to school together? I think I would remember someone as gorgeous as you." He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear so that he can see her face properly. Her cheeks flush a brilliant shade of red, and she steps closer to him. "What's your name?"

"Stevie." She says softly, her voice a little shaky. "Harrington. My name is Stevie Harrington."

Eddie furrows his brows and takes a step back to really take her in. "I didn't know Steve had a sister."

Stevie throws her head back and laughs, it's a gorgeous sound. Eddie's scared he's fucked up by not remembering that Steve had a sister but then she meets his eyes and there's something there that feels oddly familiar.

"I don't have a sister, Eddie." She says and takes a sip of her drink, her eyes watching over the rim of the glass for Eddie's reaction.

"What -" And then everything finally clicks in his alcohol clouded mind. "Oh. Oh."

He can see it now, he can see that the ghost of someone he hardly knew clings to parts of her; the moles, the pouty lips, the kind hazel eyes. They are all features he used to find himself staring at during school, features he can’t stop staring at now.

"Is that a good oh?" She asks quietly, her hand fiddling with her bracelet nervously.

Eddie motions the bartender for another round of drinks and moves closer to Stevie, a gentle smile pulling at his lips as he says, "Definitely a good oh. I was actually, uh, Edwina before I was Eddie." He pulls his leather jacket aside to point at his bare chest underneath, at his top surgery scars. Stevie's mouth forms a soft 'oh', and the tension in her body leaves as she realises that she's safe, she's with someone like her, someone who understands.

He's never told anyone his dead name before, but he could see the fear in Stevie's eyes, fear that she'd said too much to the wrong person.

All that fear is gone now as she smiles, really smiles, down at him.

There's an excited energy radiating off her as she takes another sip from her drink and bumps her shoulder with Eddie's. "I'm glad you bumped into me tonight." She admits.

"Me, too." Eddie beams up at her, her heels making her tower over him, and he's honestly never been happier.

He hopes that this time, they can maybe be more than just acquaintances.

Maybe even more than friends.

#bi4bi t4t STEDDIE ANYONE ?!#tall girl x short boy my love #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #steveddie #t4t steddie #trans eddie munson #trans steve harrington

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pearlywritings · 1 year

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Even scarred one is loved

synopsis: snippets about your partner or you having scars

pairing: Albedo, Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli x reader (separately)

tw: fluff, hurt/comfort, lighning scars, in Albedo’s part Rhinedottir used to be reader’s mentor, dragon features in Zhongli’s, in some parts scars are on the character, in some on reader

word count: 4k+ words in total

a/n: has been lying in my drafts since that summer event with Diluc and Kaeya's letters...

Albedo

The Chief Alchemist’s skin is a porcelain perfection. Milky white, smooth, spotless, flawless. The man can easily be mistaken for a marble statue and put on display in a museum - showing the chilling beauty of his visage. That’s what the body of a homunculus is - impeccability, when even the biggest and deepest of wounds disappear with time, no traces left behind.

You, on the other hand, are anything but. Sure, you are pretty, but the canvas of your body carries a hideous scar, a curse you got as a reminder of getting too close to what had to have stayed unknown. You should blame your mentor, really - if not for Rhinedottir’s deeds, you would’ve lived and died as a normal human.

…or would've become a monster, like everyone else. But here you are, in clear consciousness, with memories, so, you guess, the Gold saving you actually kind of pays off everything else she did.

Doesn’t mean you are proud of it. What it means is a lot of explanation to do if someone sees, and you prefer not to be bothered and reminded of the devastating events of the past, so you try to avoid neck and chest revealing clothes like a plague, no matter how many times Lisa pesters you about it.

When Albedo asks to draw you naked, you are, for the first time in centuries, shocked. Sure, you worked out your relationship, discussed and tried some intimacy, but the notion of having your skin exposed for long, of his eyes lingering on it for minutes, or hours even… It makes you nervous. Under the clothes you wear - a big, tree-like scar reaches its branches to your neck, spreading its trunk all over your chest. Your mentor, a true scientist to her guts, found you in a grave state and decided that it was better to curse the heart, before anything could happen to the brain.

The man’s fingers are gentle, when he pops the buttons of your shirt open and carefully slides the fabric down your shoulders. The dark night on your skin reflects in his cerulean eyes and something sparks in their depths. You should not, but you feel embarrassed and silently bite your lip, when he leans forward to press his cold lips to your collarbone.

“You are so beautiful…” he whispers and your heart - the one you believed was hardened forever before you met your lover - leaps in your chest. “Allow me to show what I see, [...]”

A word of endearment caresses your ear in the sounds of your native language, and at that moment you understand - Rhinedottir succeeded indeed. She did create a humanoid form of life, but it became capable of feeling and understanding feelings like a real human would. It can’t be any other way, not when he is looking at you like this, not when he is leading you to a sofa and makes you feel comfortable, not when his touch against your cheek is reassuring and attempts to chase your worries away, not when he picks a sketchbook, where you know the only pictures existing are of you.

Not when he draws the reminder of your doom like it's indeed the fraction of a starry sky painting your skin.

Ayato

Ever since you saw a long ugly scar across his back, it has been making you restless. The discovery happened when your lover invited you to attend the hot springs with him. It was a new step in your relationship, on the very border of entering its intimate part, and you were excited to accept his offer and remained elated for days before and on the day of. That is until his back was bared to you at some point and you saw it.

Ayato didn’t say anything about it, relaxing in the hot water and busying both of you with a conversation and savoring the finest tea and some sweets (which kept you slightly guarded, until the head of the Kamisato clan didn’t tell you these weren’t cooked by him). With all of that, you had no opportunity to ask him, not that you felt like you could - you are close and in a relationship, but who knows how willing he is to talk about it?

It’s been a week since then, and the sight of the scar occasionally appeared before your eyes. You must’ve gotten quieter and brooding, because Ayaka comments on it, when you pay her company in Inazuma City to do some shopping.

“Y/n, is something worrying you?” You look up from examining embroidered silk and tilt your head in question.

“Why would you think so?”

“Well… I noticed how your thoughts seem to stray away and I wondered if everything is okay. Maybe I can help?”

You hum. Ayaka is his sister and you grew to be good friends. It wouldn’t hurt asking her, right? Surely she must know something about that. And if she doesn’t? What if she knows nothing about the scar, about her brother having been hurt in the past? Ayato cares for her and would like to not expose her to things like that, even if she is a grown up woman and a skillful sword user. You need to be careful.

“Say, Ayaka…” you start, cautiously choosing your words. “Does your brother have a…tattoo on his back?”

“A tattoo?” She looks at you confused. “No he doesn’t, our clan doesn’t have a tradition like that. And I don’t think it’ll fit with the scar.”

Oh, so she does know.

“The scar?”

“Yes, the scar. You know the Kamisato clan had many enemies, and still does, but in the past it was so much worse. There were multiple attempts to,” she pauses, as if searching for the right words, “remove him from the picture… One of them nearly succeeded.”

“Is that so…” Ayaka nods and, hiding her saddened gaze, returns to looking at the fabric, thereby drawing the brief explanation to an end. Suddenly a strong urge to return the Estate fills your heart. To talk. To listen. To offer comfort and caresses if he desires so.

But as Ayaka drags you to the next store on your list, you think that you'll wait. Until he decides he wants to tell you the whole story, until he knows that he can trust you with his life.

Diluc

The room is silent. It is the dead of the night, and even so at least three people are not sleeping at this ungodly hour. You give Adelinde a grateful set of eyes, when she returns to you and your husband's bedroom with a bowl of clean water and several towels, placing all of that on the table near the armchair you've been standing close to.

"Are you sure you don't need my assistance?" She asks you quietly, glancing between you and the half-undressed man slumped on the piece of furniture. This woman is a real treasure, you think. It is true that this is her job, but she's always been doing far more than her responsibilities require. And that’s exactly why you are not going to deprive her from her sleep any longer.

"No, Adelinde, it's fine, I got this. Please, return to your room and have some sleep."

The head maid gives you a nod and then a small bow.

"As you wish. But if you need me, please, don't hesitate to wake me up."

"I hope it won't come to this. Good night and thank you again."

"May this night be kind to you."

And so she is out. With a sigh you glance at the man who remained quiet during the whole ordeal. Diluc knows he is in big trouble. He promised you to be careful, heck, he promised you to cut off his nightly outings, and here he is, exhausted and arm bleeding. He expects you to scold him or to whisper-yell at him, anything that would indicate you are angry with him, but you do none of these things. Instead you grab one of the towels, wet it and start wiping the blood off.

As you do so, you can't help but let your eyes wander all over the skin of his bared upper body.

Scars.

So many many scars. Big, small, wide and thin, old and fresh… Each told a story and you knew a handful. Yet this time you asked for none, busying yourself with cleaning his wound to treat and bandage it.

"Diluc," his name finally leaves your lips and fiery eyes snap open - he nearly drowsed off.

"Yes?" A croaked sound he is almost embarrassed of.

"Thank you for returning alive."

You do not care that this raid has probably given him a new future scar - all you care is that he came back, that he made it out despite everything.

"But I'd really like you to stop pushing yourself this much. I am grateful you've already lessened your workload and dedicated more of your free time to me, though I want you to become dedicated to yourself too. You do tend to forget about it."

The redhead's heart clenches. He knows he cannot promise you to stop completely, but he can try and get less injured whenever he is out fighting.

After all, there are too many scars already to add new ones to the collection.

Kaeya

Fluttering of crystal fly wings. These little beautiful creatures can be found whenever in Teyvat but the first time the Alberich boy encountered them was in the vineyard of the Dawn Winery. Gleaming in both sun and moon light they felt like little sparks, slowly floating in the air, looking too tempting not to chase after them. And he used to chase after those a lot, smiling and laughing and looking at the bright world like any happy child would.

Your butterfly kisses remind him of crystal flies, caressing his face with a subtle tremble of their wings as they try to fly away. The memories of the past overtake him, making the man feel warm and cozy, as if it's not a candle lit on the bedside drawer of your bedroom, but a tender sun, licking his cheek with its affectionate rays.

Until summer heat is replaced by the blazing fire in his memory and the surging pain in his right eye. The eye you've been delicately touching with your soft lips for the past several minutes. The eyepatch is lying on the sheets near his right hip, right where you put it, after taking it off with your deft fingers. Fingers that delicately cradle his face in their loving hold, not letting him shy away from you, letting you kiss an old scar.

No words are exchanged as you sit in his lap with his palms resting on your sides, digits creasing the material of your nightwear. Kaeya is nervous. You've come to him without any explanation, and before he could climb into your shared bed and hold a blanket up for you to join him, asked to shed the shirt he's always worn to sleep. The man knew what you wanted to see - not the many scars littering his body (they weren't all that surprising to you), but the traces of burns on his back, the ones he hid from you for the longest time, not ready to tell the story, afraid to face the past. He didn't blame the one who gave him those, he could never truly, however the day he got them scarred him much deeper than skin.

Yet he did as you asked, slowly, with stiff fingers, but eventually the fabric was no longer covering his body.

You didn't ask him any questions, you didn't even say a word, as you took his hand and softly spinned him around to face his back. Your kisses could do nothing to the damaged skin, they were long healed naturally, but his inner turmoil of emotions was soothed by your display of affection.

More relaxed and less anxious he didn't protest when you made him sit on the edge of the bed and climbed into his lap. Maybe he did tense a little when you reached behind to untie the string attached to his eyepatch, maybe his fingers grabbed at your clothes a little bit too roughly, but he didn't stop you, until the little piece was off and away from his face and your lips replaced it.

He knows he doesn't deserve you, but Celestia be damned - he doesn't want to ever let you go. The only one he entrusted his heart like this, allowed you to unwrap the carefully built facade and reach to what is real about the man Kaeya Alberich is. And knowing you love him with all these ugly scars littering his skin? Makes him believe you'll still love him after seeing how scarred his heart is.

Kaveh

“Say, would you like to go shopping for our next date?”

The question takes you by surprise as you exit the bathroom of your bedroom you’ve been sharing with the blond architect ever since your relationship got more serious and you offered him to move in with you. The gorgeous man is standing in front of your full-length mirror, his back to you, undoing the numerous clips that keep his hair out of his face daily. The crimson of his eyes flashes, as he meets your stunned gaze in the reflection.

“Why so sudden?” You ask - nervously, he notes, fidgeting with the material of your night clothes.

“I noticed how you always wear overly closed clothes. I thought we could look for something more revealing?”

The way you shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by him, confusion now etched in his facial expression.

“What’s wrong, my flower?” You sigh, lips drawn in a line. He uses such a delicate word to address, but you are anything but.

“Does it bother you? The way I dress, I mean.”

“Hm? No, of course not,” Kaveh shakes his head, turning to face you. “You look pretty in whatever you wear. But you must be uncomfortable, walking around wearing so many layers when it’s scorching outside. Just the other day you were so dazed, I was afraid you’d pass out before we reached home.”

Even now he can’t help but question the rather covering night clothes, especially compared to his bared upper body. He was sure to discuss it before you started sharing the bed, and you never showed discomfort about it, but somehow always avoided the topic of your own choice of night wear.

As he is pondering over the topic in his head again, you chew on your bottom lip. It was foolish of you to think he’d never notice your strange behavior in regard to how you dress, or rather started dressing after getting together with him.

But it’d be unfair to keep your lover in the dark, after he was so open to you, right?

“Hey, lovebird?” Kaveh snaps out of his thoughts, when you call him, settling on the edge of the mattress and patting the place by your side. The blonde immediately joins you, eagerly accepting your hands sliding into his, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“Does anything bother you?” He beats you to it, making you sigh again, feeling how your heart is wildly thumping against your ribcage.

“Promise you won’t feel differently about me?”

“Never,” the firmness and the speed with which he confirms your statement brings some comfort to your worrying self, giving you strength to proceed.

“You know I used to work closely with matras, yeah?” He nods. “This job isn’t particularly harmless, so I, um,” gulping you search for any indication of - you don’t even know what - in his eyes. Whatever it might be, there is none, only softness hidden behind the ruby gems, pouring in gentle waves, caressing your being, making your heart flutter, and words abruptly leave your mouth.

“I have scars.”

“And?” Your eyes widen, when he cocks his head to the side, looking at you with a clear lack of understanding.

“‘And?’!? Kaveh, come on!” You groan, looking to the side. “I mean look at you! You are absolutely gorgeous, and I know how much you appreciate fine things, which I am not…”

“Is this the reason why you’ve been dressing like this and changing in the bathroom all this time?”

“...yeah…”

“Oh, darling,” a warm smile brightens up his face and he leans forward, kissing your cheek. “First of all, you are not a ‘thing’. Secondly, I am such a fool for not noticing sooner. I assure you, you are already so amazing and I can’t imagine some scars scaring me off. Truth be told, I fell in love that moment I saw you handling that lying bastard to the ground.”

“You mean that day you looked at me with literal hearts in your eyes, scrolls tightly held to your chest and mouth open?” He immediately grows bashful, but the smile gets bigger - you are teasing him, that’s a good sign.

“Yeah, yeah, that. What I am trying to say is that in my eyes you are already wonderful. We can take it slow, but would you trust me and show them one day?”

The way you lean into him burying your face in his neck tells him everything, and yet the blonde is delighted to hear your quiet answer.

“Of course.”

Tighnari

Tighnari curls his tail around your hip tighter when another clap of thunder disturbs the night. His ear twitches, sensitive to the sound which easily shakes him out of sleep, eyes immediately trained on the window to make sure it’s closed.

When a flash of light rips through the dark clouds that overtook the sky, the man’s pupils narrow in slits out of pure instincts, and he makes a sound of discontent, drawing your body closer to his. Which, as he quickly realizes, wasn't the brightest idea, as you start squirming and groaning. Tighnari curses under his breath, when you yawn and attempt to stretch in his hold, eyelids slowly sliding up, revealing your precious orbs he loves so much, to the curl of his toes.

You owlishly blink, directing your gaze to your lover’s face, then blinking again, trying to get rid of the veil of sleep and make out his features in the dark.

“‘nari…” you rasp, reaching to his cheek, tenderly touching it with just the fingertips. “Why are you still awake, dear?”

The fennec man opens his mouth to give you some excuse, to lure you back to the dreamland, but another burst of electric light and the loud rumble accompanying it cuts him off, forcing his body to stiffen. You crane your neck to look behind you. The understanding quickly dawns on you and, humming, your body moves.

Tighnari’s eyes slightly widen in panic when you sit up, leaving the lock of his arms, letting only his tail rest on your thighs. But even it soon ends up on the mattress when you stand up and wobble to the window. A soft rattle of closing curtains for a moment blocks another clap of thunder, and you returning to his side not a few seconds later soothes his nerves.

“Still hits badly?” You ask softly, reaching for his hand and sliding your fingers between his. He can only nod, dropping his forehead to your shoulder and squeezing his digits around yours.

“I know it’s hard,” you press a sweet kiss to the top of his head, right between his droopy ears, “but I also know you’ll overcome it. And I will be with you all the way.”

“How did you manage?” He finally speaks for the first time through the night and he sounds so tired.

“You mean this?” Even in the darkness he sees how you tug on the hem of your shirt, revealing multiple scars, akin to the tree limbs, tracing the path the electricity took as it traveled through you. That electro-wielding scam really got you in the past, Tighnari knows it took a lot of time for you to recover - both physically and mentally. He was there to see it, as you were sent to the Gandharva Ville for rehabilitation, way before you two started dating.

He nods again, curling his tail around your figure once more.

“Well,” you glance at his shoulder, where under his own shirt, the similar scar is hidden, one that has an even ghastlier story behind it, “truth be spoken? Under your care and with your guidance. You were the one to drag me out of depression and fear, and I am ready to do the same to you.”

The man hugs you tighter, tucking your head under his chin and sighing shakily. He knows eventually the scar will just be a scar, something to match with you and have a story to tell to the stupid rangers and passersby of Avidya Forest for the sake of caution… It’s your willingness that counts though, filling his heart with warmth and making him forget of things surrounding him.

Tonight, despite the foul weather outside, he will be able to sleep. With you by his side.

Zhongli

The life among mortals was peaceful and fulfilling, and the retired Archon enjoys to fullest everything it has to offer. But sometimes he can’t help himself, leaving the house in the city he shares with you, his spouse of many centuries, if not thousands of years. He takes a long stroll to the land of the adepti, where he is always welcome to stay and reside, unbothered if he desires so.

In the mountains, on peaks hidden behind the clouds, the stoic man can allow his control over this mortal form slip, revealing horns, adorned with gold, long tail of earthly color and long fluffy trail of autumn-colored fur on the tip of it, eyes, more reptilian than human like, shining like finest cor lapis, and scales covering some of his skin.

Often you find him on one of the mountain tops, basking in the sunlight and squinting like a content cat would do. Your lover prefers to shed some of his clothes, baring his skin and scales to warm rays, making them shine beautifully - both because it makes him happy and because he knows you can join him, thus the dragon does want to show off to you.

This time you sense him on Mt. Hulao and upon arriving there spot the half-dragon Prime adeptus resting near the lake, having abandoned his long robe (he does change his attire whenever he is out of the city) and resting on his side. Quietly walking closer you see how the tip of his tail lazily grazes the surface of a cool lake nearby and smile. The next moment the water splashes just barely miss you as you jump to the side when the very same tail whips into your direction.

“My love, I see you are playful today,” your husband grins contently, not opening his eyes but retrieving his tail so you could finally come closer and sit with him.

“I am sorry, the gem of my heart. Simply couldn’t help myself,” your presence is welcomed and the gentle touch of your hand against the side of his neck sends pleasant shivers down his spine.

A comfortable silence falls between you two. Zhongli relishes in your loving caresses, while you make sure to glide the tips of your fingers everywhere you spot the scales of who he really is.

In his human body, Zhongli’s skin is flawless. It doesn’t bear any reminder of hardships and war times, when he fought, injured and got his own wounds, but his other self does. You remember the last time you saw him in his full beast glory - while beautiful and shiny, his scaled body was scarred. Like this, in his adeptus form you could witness some of the scars as well, each reminded you of this or that ghastly cut delivered by his enemies and with time healing into nothing but long lines of imperfection. Yet you do not hate them, nor does your husband. They simply tell the stories of the past, and make you both remember that despite any obstacle or danger he faced, he always made it out in the end.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #albedo x reader #ayato x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #kaveh x reader #tighnari x reader #zhongli x reader #albedo kreideprinz #ayato kamisato #kamisato ayato #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #Kaveh #tighnari #zhongli #genshin impact fluff

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mydarlingdyke · 1 month

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my love, mine all mine

an abby x fem reader drabble

in a world full of danger around every corner, it was hard to truly appreciate the beauty of the simple things. the foliage of trees and how they changed with the seasons and the soft chirping of birds in the morning, a gentle and hopeful promise of the innate goodness that this world still had. simpler things, like a knowing look between two people, the warmth of a fire on a cold night, a smile so bright that even if the owner of it were covered in blood and sweat it would still, somehow, tune out all the disgrace and doom that life brings upon us.

on nights like this, Abby would wonder if life was really as easy to romanticize as people from the old world thought. put fresh flowers on a vase in your living room!, they'd say. treat yourself to a pastry from your local bakery!, they'd write. mere luxuries, Abby thought, even in a time before the outbreak. if you had to find ways to make life feel better than it actually was back then, maybe it wasn't much different from the time she lived now. just less concealed, harsher and unsweetened. like the coffee she drank every morning at the mess hall.

Abby often found herself wondering what life was all about. all of this suffering, for what? the few good things she had would someday be taken away from her, because that's just how it goes. life is like that; a cruel mistress of chaos that destroys everything she touches once she finds its true value. and we're not just talking about material possessions; that's what Abby cared the least for. it was the people, the sad and broken people that stood next to her through it all. the ones that always kept a smile on their faces, despite the horrors. the ones who made an effort to find comfort in those little things that still brought joy to them.

people like you.

when Abby met you she cared more for her life than she ever had before. her obsession with putting herself in harm's way for the sake of others and her habit of drinking out of grief were somehow tuned down, just by your presence. it's crazy how just one person can make a major difference in the way you view life, either for better or for worse. she would see the worry in your eyes when she came back from patrol banged up, or the sadness in your brow that night you found her drunk and sobbing in her bunk.

that was the only time you ever saw her cry.

it affected her deeply when you cuddled her to your chest and rocked her softly until she passed out in her drunken haze. it moved her heart in a way she never knew. hell, sometimes she doubted she had a heart at all. but that night, feeling your steady breaths and warm hands caress her back as her mind was plagued with death, she felt human for the first time in her life.

through it all, for better or for worse, she wanted to stay for as long as she could. she teased danger, defied fate and fooled death, all for the sake of seeing another morning rise in the Seattle skyline, sun honeyed and gentle over your sleeping features. it had become her new favorite sight.

and she wished to see it forever, until the day she dies. until her body rots, and her bones turn to dust and she becomes one with nature, like it was at the beginning. she may leave this plane of existence without her trusty gun, or her favored pair of cargo pants. or without her favorite Tchaikovsky vinyls and Bradbury novels... maybe even without you. it's a thought she dreaded, the possibility of merging with the earth without holding your hand through it.

but even like that, she was taking all her love with her. the love she gave. all those tiny pieces of her heart that she left behind for people to call their own. it was like a promise; she knew her time would come and she would lose it all. but never her heart. never her love. and much less the love she's left for you. she didn't believe in god, but as she stares up at the big bright moon in the sky tonight, she wants to believe there's something bigger out there, some kind of all-knowing and all-seeing entity that could see and feel the worry in her heart.

please, if you can hear me...

"Abs?" you stood in the hallway, watching her lean on the railing. voice croaky, low but still so sweet, she thought.

please, just...

"why are you up?" she asked, voice just as gentle when she leaned away from the railing. "had a bad dream?"

just keep her safe for me...

"no, I..." you began, rubbing at your eyes. "didn't feel you beside me, got worried."

let her keep my love...

"sorry, didn't mean to scare you." she whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you always smelled so good to her.

don't let this all be in vain...

"how about you?" your head tilted upwards, meeting her gaze. "did you have a bad dream?"

I have nothing, if not her... my love for her...

"oh, no baby. don't worry about me." she can't help but smile at your half asleep state, wishing she could see you like this for weeks, months, years to come. over and over. she'd never get sick of it.

"you know I don't have those when I'm with you."

let her keep it all. all my love.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #tlou2 #tlou #abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #the last of us part 2 #the last of us #lesbian #wlw #wlw fanfic #mydarlingdyke #mydarlingdyke works

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foli-vora · 5 months

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the sun will shine again

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: just a little self indulgent something I wrote for comfort when I needed it, but maybe it can be a little reassuring hug for someone here as well? If you're struggling, please reach out to your local helplines, friends, family, doctors, teachers, coworkers - you're worthy of your existence on this planet, and you're not alone ❤️

Word count: 2k

Warnings: heavy themes. Depression, thoughts of suicide and intent, mentions of a weapon (gun), Joel struggles with feelings but he gets the message across, Ellie is Ellie with a little needed comic relief, hurt & much needed comfort

You don't want it anymore. Any of it. You just want peace. You want to be able to wake without the lingering presence of something heavy weighing down on your heart, your soul. You want to be able to smile, and feel it curl on your lips knowing it's nothing but true, and it's not there hiding the ugly thoughts and feelings stirring in your mind. You just want to be happy.

Is that even possible? Does happiness even exist anymore? The world had been torn apart long ago - there is very little to smile for now. Maybe it wasn't worth the effort. Maybe this is all there is.

No.

No, this isn't all of it.

You're sure you feel happiness, even if it doesn't manage to make it across your features most of the time. You feel the tender warmth of it in your chest, the blissful ease of the never ending pressure threatening to crush you under its weight.

It happens now, despite the horrific events that seem to follow your footsteps. Ellie's a sweet thing. She hides it behind her stubbornness and sarcasm, but you spy a slight comfort building within her as time rolls on—a peace.

Joel mirrors it, and he fights it - God does he fight it. Of course you know why he keeps her at arms length, why he desperately fights to keep that void present, but lately, it's wavered. He smiles, laughs even. It's beautiful to witness. He deserves it all and so much more.

You on the other hand? The shadows have seemingly only grown outside of the QZ despite being free, creeping along and filling every vacant space in your mind. It's so damn heavy. Something's there, a presence that seems to know exactly when to strike with its poisonous words, and it's not long until a part of you starts to believe them.

You don't belong here. You don't deserve them. You don't deserve this. You should've died long ago. Why are you still here? They would be better off without you.

It's those thoughts that have you here now, staring numbly at the sun beginning to shine over the horizon with a weight in your hands. There's a harsh chill in the air that bites at your skin through your thick, tattered long sleeve, but you don't care. You won't be here when the snow eventually hits.

You had left your jacket draped over a sleeping Ellie, her cheeks and nose tinged pink from the low temperature. It wouldn't go to waste - she'll get a lot of use out of it. Your pack you'd left in its spot beside Joel's - he'll take whatever they need before they move off. You have nothing else of worth.

They'll be better off. You don't belong here. You don't belong anywhere. Everyone will be better off.

Your gaze drops to your hands where they cradle the handgun, the steel barrel now warm from your touch. You only have one bullet - you left the rest behind. You wouldn't need them, anyway. Joel'll get a use out of them. They'll both be safe.

Safer without you. Better without you.

So why can’t you do it? Why can’t you just get it over with? Why are you hesitating?

The last few months roll through your mind. Blurs of memories, of you and Joel, of you and Ellie, each one rolling through your mind and bringing that sweetly craved warmth back to your chest. You know why you’re hesitating.

It’s a battle between love and darkness, and you hate that the darkness is winning. You’re weak.

They deserve more than you.

“Watching the sunrise?"

The unexpected but familiar gravel has you jumping about a mile high out of your skin. Your head whips to where Joel is approaching quietly from behind, and you discreetly tuck the gun into the waistband of your jeans as you nod, forcing a strained curl of your lips.

"It's a nice view," he continues quietly, voice still roughened from the few hours of sleep he managed to get. "I wasn't expectin' you to be gone so long."

He had been resting when you left the little campsite, eyes closed and merely grunting in reply when you mentioned needing a bit of privacy. How long had it been since you left? How long had you been dragging your feet in carrying this shit out?

"I got distracted," you explain weakly, shifting slightly over on the unforgiving boulder you sit on so he can rest on it beside you, "sorry."

He notices your clear lack of jacket.

"You cold?"

"No," you lie.

He's watching you, studying you. You can feel it. You keep your eye on the horizon, taking in the pastel mix of blues and oranges stretching across the sky as the sun starts to rise further above the landscape in an effort to escape his scrutiny.

"You needin' these?"

Glancing towards him, you watch as he sticks his hand down the front pocket of his jeans before holding it out to you, noting the bullets rolling around his palm. Your bullets. There's something hanging in his gaze as it remains heavily fixed on you. Maybe a slight edge of suspicion? Challenge?

You don't manage to hold it long enough to find out.

"Uh, not that I know of. I think I'm good."

He makes a low noise of thought, "Alright. Well, why don't you let me check. Better to be safe than sorry, right?"

"Joel—"

"Come on."

The cold's long seeped into your bones now. You weren't meant to take this long. Another thing you can't do right. Moving takes a small bit of effort, your fingers now numb as they struggle to keep a firm grip on the weapon and pass it over.

Joel swiftly pops open the cylinder once he has the gun in hand, taking a long, quiet moment to examine the one single bullet residing in there. His thumb briefly brushes over the top surface of it, before readying the other bullets in between the grasp of his fingers.

"Not gettin' far with only one," he comments dryly, nimbly filling the cylinder and then flicking it shut with a noticeable click.

He doesn't give it back to you.

Instead, he reaches behind his back and tucks the gun down the waistband of his jeans beside his own, before fixing his jacket above them. He sighs, a deep heave of breath that blows out from his lips with a wispy cloud that carries away with the breeze as he seems to lose himself in thought.

You say nothing. There's nothing for you to say.

"Don't you ever," he starts thickly, voice cutting suddenly through the quiet, "think about doin' that again, you hear me?"

"Do what?"

You feign ignorance.

Whether it's because you don't want to acknowledge your earlier thoughts, or Joel to know about any of it, you don't know. It's silly—he would've found you eventually anyway. Maybe you're just a coward and don't want to face the reality of what he would think of you.

"Don't play with me—not about this.”

An apology sits on your tongue, but it doesn't make it past your lips. You should've known better than to play him as the fool. Joel's anything but stupid. He probably saw through you the instant he laid eyes on you sitting in the cold morning light without a jacket.

“I don’t say it, and maybe I should start, but I can’t lose you,” he rasps, deep brown eyes falling away from your face to follow the soft swirls of the clouds, “I can’t. And I know that’s selfish of me to say, I know it’s not what I should say when you’re feelin’ like this, but—Jesus. Ellie wants you here, needs you here. I need you here, and I know you’re carryin’ a lot in that head of yours but—I just... I’m here for you, alright?”

“Joel—”

“Quiet.”

Your mouth snaps shut immediately.

“I know it’s a lot, and I know it hurts—believe me honey, I know it fuckin’ hurts, and you’re tired and the other side just seems so damn good… but it’s not. It’s not. You… you can’t do that. God, you just can’t.”

The wind chills the hot tears that spill down your cheeks until they feel like ice. He looks at you then, as if sensing the heart ache making wet paths along your skin.

You’re weak.

His hands are hot as they cradle your face carefully, roughened calloused palms covering your cheeks and soothing away the agony filled droplets with a quick brush of his thumbs.

You can’t help but turn into the touch, your own hands coming to wind around his wrists in an effort to keep him close. He’s so warm. You let out the lungful of oxygen you’d been holding onto in your worry, watching the fog of it hang between your faces before fading away.

“I don’t know what to do, Joel,” you admit in a choked whisper, eyes dropping from something close to shame, “My head… I-I don’t know how to fix this—”

His hands press tighter against your cheeks as he angles and holds your face until your eyes are flicking up to meet his. Sincerity fills them, mixing with the ever present concern he hides behind those high almost impenetrable walls. It’s hard to focus on anything but him.

“It’s gonna take time, and it’s gonna be damn hard, but I want you to put it on me, understand? Put it all on me. I’ll carry what you’re strugglin’ with, alright? Hell, I’ll carry you. For as long as I need to. For the rest of my—fuck. Just—just let me help you. Please.”

He wants to do that? For you?

“What if it’s too much?”

“Then we’ll handle it together, like we’ve handled shit hundreds of times before.”

A few more moments of searching his eyes and you’re breathing a quiet okay. The heaviness still rests unforgivingly on your mind, but maybe you won’t struggle so much if someone was there to help you carry the load. Maybe, with time, it would get lighter.

That’s what you could fight for—the days where it won’t hold you down, and threaten to break you completely. The days where, maybe, it won’t be there anymore. Is that even a possibility? It doesn’t matter, you think you’re willing to find out.

His own eyes flicker between yours when your voice reaches his ears, before he gives a slight, barley there nod. His throat bobs with a swallow and then he’s resting his forehead against yours in apparent relief, lashes brushing his cheeks as his eyes flutter closed.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t ever need to be.”

“I fucking knew you guys were a thing.”

Ellie’s voice suddenly picks up from the tree line, her heavy feet trudging through the dense forest floor with the crunch of leaves and the snap of branches. Joel’s hands drop as he pulls away with a slight frown, levelling it on the girl making her way over, but it doesn’t seem to deter her in the slightest.

Despite missing the physical reassurance from Joel, you welcome the change Ellie unknowingly brings to the heavy atmosphere. You even manage a small smile, and it doesn’t feel strange as it stretches along your lips. There it is again—that lovely warmth from within you.

This is it. This is what you want, what you have. It’s just buried most of the time, but—but it’s definitely there. You weren’t imagining it. It’s there.

You’ll fight for it. You’ll fight for her, for Joel. You’ll fight for your peace.

“You didn’t need to hide it for so long—I’m not fucking stupid. I appreciate the jacket, by the way, but I don’t need you turning into an ice block on me,” she says, dumping your warm jacket over your shoulders before moving to your side and looking out towards the sunrise. “Holy shit, look at that view.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal x reader #tlou fanfiction

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 months

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New Beginnings CM Challenge 🌱

The following are prompts involving a new relationship, fresh start, etc.!

This event is over (Masterlist of Fics here), but you are welcome to use any of these prompts. If you would like to be added to the existing Masterlist of entries, please check out the Rules below!

🌧 Prompts 🌱

Describe Character's first day at the BAU

Character celebrates a milestone of sobriety

Characters are getting the hang of being new parents

Character goes overboard with New Year’s Resolutions

Character decides to try something new in the bedroom

Character is entering the dating scene after their divorce

Character changes career paths with a very different job

Character introduces their new partner to their kid

Character comes out as trans and introduces themselves

Character finally agrees to get set up with a date after a long dry spell

Character learns to navigate their everyday life after a traumatic event

Character escapes an abusive relationship and the recovery is harder than they thought

Character swears that this year they will definitely fulfill all their New Year's resolutions

Character just came out as LGB and goes on their first date with someone of the same sex

Character decides to cut off a member(s) of their family, and the team reminds them that they still have a whole lot of (found) family left

Character lost a partner and swore they would never love like that again... but that hasn't stopped them from falling in love in a different way

Character got a pet for the first time and they realize how much easier it is to take care of themselves when someone else is counting on them

Character had previously come out as something, but then realized they were something else... coming out is even more daunting the second time

More prompts below + Make your own!

🌤 Dialogue Prompts🌻

"The time will pass anyway." (Earl Nightingale)

"If you jump, I jump with you."

"I can't wait to see who you become."

"I love every possible iteration of you."

"To be brave, you must first be afraid." (Bear Grylls)

"You aren't alone in this. None of us are." (Baldur's Gate 3)

"Is it too late to go back?" "Don't you dare."

"This is all new to me." "What?" "Being happy."

"I don't know what I'm doing." "No one does. That's life."

"There are always a million reasons not to do something." (The Office)

🌒Character Specific Prompts🌲

Spencer's life after prison is nothing like before

Spencer decides to pursue his dream of being a cowboy/rancher

Spencer becomes dedicated to turning his life around after relapsing

Spencer doesn't think about Maeve on a special occasion for the first time

Hotch finally stops wearing his old wedding ring

Hotch embraces his role as a single dad

JJ's children are almost grown, and she struggles to reconnect with who she was before she was their mother

Penelope realizes she doesn’t like the person she’s become after leaving the BAU, so she decides to change

Lauren Reynolds died—it’s time Emily start acting like it

Rossi struggles with suddenly becoming a (grand)father

🍂Rules🍃

The fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check. Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

Have fun!

The Masterlist of fics will be posted around March 1. If you finish after that, no problem - just send me the fic once you’re done and I’ll add it after-the-fact!

Feel free to message me if you want help developing a plot, have any questions, or just want to gush about your fic. I’m happy to help, and I’m happy you’re here ❤️

Happy Writing!

#cm writing challenge #cm challenge #cm writing prompts #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction

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chocsra · 3 months

Note

yknow tht chuuyas friend got killed during the dragon head conflicts, right?(source dead apple) yea, wht if reader was one of them. letter fics reader confessing her love to chuuya and him finding it after she died.

"Tainted With Sin, Weakness Comes From Love."

16! Chuuya x implied fem! reader

summary: chuuya finds your letters to him after your death in the dragon head conflict

content: angst, heavy mentions of death, swearing

There, the boy remained victorious.

Others would furrow their brows, feel their heart clench into an impending drop. The utter and impeccable fear of such a small body, a young boy who yearned for nothing but a reason - a purpose, holding such power. He was as if he was sculpted by a passionate artist, a woman who presented herself as a 'mother' - soft orange locks, the ever glow of his skin that never left his face, and a harmonic assortment of features, those features that made him special. A child who was stringed together like a melodic harp by a mother is every child, and that was Nakahara Chuuya. He too, was a child.

At least, he felt like one.

"Chuuya," A tall, ginger woman speaks solemnly, clasping her hands together elegantly, as always. "here - [Y/N]'s stuff." Kouyou passes a large cardboard box to the boy; items like notebooks, pens, photos, and sticky notes. It had only been 14 days after the Dragon Head Conflict, and yet, the world's lost all sense of art: skies have been less blue, birds more or so melodically sing mantras of sorrow, rather than blissful chirps. Maybe it was because of his comrades who died, maybe it's because you were one of them, or maybe, it's his brain using his frustration with the world against him. In this box, consider it pandora's box of humanity - perhaps the sight alone brightened the sky, awakened the birds. You existed, and so, he longs to feel your existence once more. Be it through letters.

Chuuya runs his fingers along a folder of letters you've written. He'll close his eyes and pretend it's your skin - he'll close his eyes and make out each indent of each thought, each question you held for the universe on that paper.

Dear Chuuya,

Happy Birthday! You finally turned 16, loser. You're all over the Port Mafia, you know? Double Black is so goddamn popular I've been approached by people I don't know asking if we're friends. So ahem, here are my birthday wishes for my boy best friend - the only one I share my gossip to that isn't a girl.

You get taller.

You find out what the hell happened before you were 8.

A girl would finally like you or something - rare, I know.

You finally get a dog. PLEASE shut up about it :)

Thank you for being my friend, even though you lose your shit when we play UNO with Albatross. Get good, kid.

Sincerely,

- [Y/N].

The redhead can practically feel himself scoffing, even though it was more like a chuckle, before sealing the letter once again; a small smile tugging on his lips even though he finds himself wiping a bit of tears from his cheeks.

"Why did it have to be you?.." Chuuya chuckles, swallowing thickly to cover the strain of tears spilling out. Crystal tears were never a threat to the boy - once again, such things like a heart doesn't suit him - yet, he finds it ironic. Maybe you had it all along.

The boy, molded by the hands of divinity, stringed together by an otherworldly being, was nothing divine. Nakahara Chuuya reigned from torture, yearned for retribution, and became an artist - one acquired dazzlingly with revenge. He took the vessel of himself he loathed and despised it with his entire being. Arahabaki was no divine being, nor a mother who lovingly caressed and loved with dainty hands. He was a monster, Chuuya was too. But from the rippling shackles he's restrained himself to, there was an angel, sacred and divine, who chided him for his hatred, his sorrows, his regrets. You too, knew how it was like to lose, to betray and be betrayed, and yet, you would never bring those to him again, but it seems once again, you've failed.

You were an angel, his angel, a light in the sky that he never failed to follow. And yet, you too fell from heaven's gate. Chuuya, who has been by your side for years, never dare touch you - Nakahara Chuuya may taint you with his sin, ruin the wings that guide him through the light. But shit, as an artist of revenge - he'll repaint it with regret.

To grow from a child, child of hatred to man of soul, touch will remold him to his feet. Rebuke his despondency. Chuuya regrets, for his only reminder of your skin was your life slipping through his fingers like ash.

To be Chuuya's angel was to lace his hair in between your words.

To be Chuuya's angel meant you were going to be immortalized.

To be Chuuya's angel meant that was only going to happen once he's lost you.

Yet he still flips the page.

Dear Chuuya,

I like you.

I thought love was foolish. A four letter word, and one syllable of absolute bullshit. Love is only a fixation in TV shows and movies. Love is a weakness, and contrary to popular belief - love cannot save you.

But you saved me. Countless of times.

The first being when I botched an assignment miserably. I was about to sacrifice myself before you kicked all the enemies' asses! You even took the blame for me.

The second was when I ate too much during a celebration and you had to bring me home safely.

The third was when you didn't say anything after I farted in a closed elevator.

Maybe you're stronger than love, then. You're Chuuya Nakahara, the strongest ability user in the world. But, even if I fell for you - it's not because of your strength, or protection. I genuinely like you, Nakahara Chuuya, not the strongest ability user, but the boy who sought a past, the boy who longs for a wine collection, the boy who cries watching dog movies, the boy who thinks chokers are a fashion statement.

Don't think because you define yourself as Arahabaki I will too. You're so much more than that.

But eh, who cares anyway, its not like you know how to read or write.

Love,

- [Y/N].

The boy who sought a past, felt himself shatter, because now he actually he had one. A best friend of his memories. An angel only in his dreams. A desire he could only do so much but reminisce. But contradictory to your previous statement, Nakahara Chuuya could read, even write now.

All because you taught him.

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strawberryforks · 3 months

Text

whatever the hell we want // bellamy blake x reader

summary: reader didn’t care much for living, the eldest blake sibling made it worthwhile, even enjoyable

warnings: angst, suicidal thoughts/ideation, swearing

word count: 1908

a/n: this one is a bit heavy. i was having a bad day so i will apologize for turning the cutesy “how did bellamy and reader meet” request into this emotional abomination (sorry)

you probably should have been excited to be on the ground. it was that or being floated–tossed into a lock sealed door, trapped, and taunted with the faces of whatever loved ones chose to say goodbye (you didn’t have to worry about that, the only family you had, you met in lock up–your bio dad, marcus kane, was awful and on days that ended in ‘y’, you opted to pretend he didn’t exist) before another door would open and you’d be sucked out into space. the little oxygen in your lungs would tear them apart. what had sustained you for so long would then be your downfall. what you needed to breath would kill you.

you’d be so hot, so hot as your blood boiled and so hot as you died, staring out at the stars you loved so much. you were nineteen, the oldest prisoner to be alive and on the arc, but even kane’s powers had their limits. in three days you would be floated. three days until that would be your fate and still.

still.

when you woke up on that dropship you were pissed. it was the first thing you were mad about.

with a forever fuck-it attitude, you unbuckled your seat. floating around with a few others you ignored your best friend when she told you “sit back down, dumbass!” you cracked a grin and then the lights flickered.

while entering the new atmosphere something went wrong—something malfunctioned. maybe the shutes didn’t deploy or maybe you were just lucky but when the screaming started, you didn’t hear it for more than a few seconds because you were flung into one of the metal walls, just above the seats, and your vision spotted before going disappearing completely. sounds dulled, everything dulled. you were probably dying, you smiled because of that

when you landed, you woke up. that was the second thing you were mad about.

you were suspended in the air in some kind of fabric. It wasn’t uncomfortable or anything, not until you attempted to stretch your stiff limbs and found the material twisting. it spat you out on the ground and you made a noise. it bubbled from the back of your throat, expressing your obvious upset, you lifted your hand to touch your cheekbone–it was throbbing and you had the vague memory of your face slamming into the dropship wall. at fucking nineteen, you weren’t supposed to have to deal with any of this. you should’ve been floated a long damn time ago, would’ve like to have been too. you were the oldest prisoner on the ark, only alive because of who your daddy was. the daughter of marcus kane (you hate him as much as the next person) you’d been spared. he tended to get what he wanted.

where you lie, a boy does across from you on another makeshift bed. you lean over him, study him. He has some features you recognize. freckles and long eyelashes. you’re peering over him, observing, when those eyelashes lift and he’s blinking up at you. you scoot backwards not wanting to bang heads (yours was quite tender).

the hand that you have been absentmindedly feeling around your face with, came away with no blood coating, “i’m ocatavia’s brother, bellamy.” bellamy blake, okay. you’d heard of him and despite never meeting him before, the stories octavia had told you, mostly about how he protected her and made life under the floor less horrendous, you decided he was safe.

you glance at him, not all that hesitant. your best friend was a force and if she left you alone, in here, with him, he was trustworthy. your lips are pressed into a tight line. you don’t need to introduce yourself, he already knows. of course he does. you assure yourself he knows because you’re his little sister’s best friend and not because you’re kane’s daughter, the one who killed a man and got away scot free. you had a damn good reason but the ark’s justice system was lacking.

you tell yourself he isn’t judging you, he doesn’t look like he is, but you know you deserve to be judged so it’s a losing battle.

you glance down at your wrist and see it’s bare. the band that transmits your vitals to the ark is missing, and when you look at his wrist, you realise he isn’t wearing one either. “lost in the rough landing?” you ask, with a lilt to your voice.

his shoulders shake as he laughs a little. “something like that.”

you sit back up and climb back into your hammock. this time your hands are both out beside you to stabilise yourself. it’s quiet for a moment, the tent dark enough you know it’s night time. “why’d you take it?” you asked, unable to stop your curiosity.

“the ark hasn’t done anything for us. they sent us down here to die, because we’re expendable. in their eyes we’re just repaying them.”

oh. so your dad probably thinks you’re dead right now. that doesn’t unsettle you as much as it would the average person–actually you don’t mind it at all. let him learn what it means to fail, to lose, in some permanent way. let him face the brunt of the consequences his actions wrought for once. maybe this sentence would be the one to ruin him.

you stare at the pitch of the tent. are we on earth right now? is it safe? did the others survive? what happens now? your mind is flooded with questions.

“you think loudly.” bellamy informs.

“i’ve been out for awhile, huh?” in response, he nodded. “is it okay? is everyone okay?”

“they are. you almost weren’t though. that stunt you pulled? it was a whole different level of dumb.”

it’s peaceful until sunrise when the screaming starts. Guttural moans and groans echo from within the camp. “That’s jasper,” bellamy supplies while you’re rubbing your head, all but pleading with the ache to subside.

then octavia’s bursting through the tent flaps, “i knew i heard voices!” she pulls you outside with her and just… woah. everything is brighter. unlike the monotones on the ark there’s all kinds of colours. blue sky, green tress. they’re so green and so many different shades. light, dark, sage, evergreen. you’ve never seen anything so beautiful, other than your stars. you miss them, and looking up at the sky you can’t see them only clouds–white floating cotton that moves with the wind. you’re on earth and you don’t know if you belong here but in all fairness you didn’t belong on that spaceship either. the only place you thought might be a good fit for you was now miles upon miles away. a good thing, if you asked octavia.

the “whatever the hell we want” movement was one you supported quickly and joined even quicker. bellamy and his buddies at its forefront you figured, why not. you liked to fight, so thats what you did. you threw punches and received them and slaps to the face. It satiated you need to self destruct and would until bellamy or octavia intervened. you didn’t quite care for danger and took as many guard and patrol shifts as you could. you liked carrying a weapon, liked exploring, and hated being cooped up and confined.

you were walking away from the wall, alone this time, with no particular destination in mind. sometimes you brought octavia with you but she was busy talking and flirting (not in that particular order) her brother never liked when she joined in on your adventures so it was probably better that she wasn’t with you.

“not dragging my sister along with you this time?” a familiar voice chided. bellamy blake. speak of the devil and he shall appear.

you shrug your shoulders and continue walking. “not this time, no.”

“hey! come back. where the hell do you think you’re going.”

“i haven’t decided yet. maybe the river. maybe the caves. maybe, it’s none of your business,” you respond dryly, still walking ahead. his hand clamps down on your arm and he stops you from moving further, “what, bellamy? what?” his eyes, alight with fire, something you’ve seen in your best friend once or twice, full of curiosity, and understanding, meet your own. he gazes into your dead ones, takes a look at your blank expression and bends down. a hand grips the backs of your thighs and then he’s picking you up. you’re slung over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and had you not been so emotionally empty you would've been incredibly impressed. “what the hell bellamy? what are you doing?”

“whatever the hell i want, though, that? it doesn’t apply to you anymore, not when you don’t know what you want,”

“i do,” you argue.

“not when what you want isn’t anything good.” he fires back.

and that’s how you met bellamy blake. at first you hated him, hated how he drug you along wherever he went–patrol was nice but he would insist on bringing you everywhere, even on the most pointless errands. to do the most boring things. he made you drag logs to help reinforce the wall and sometimes he didn’t even help. prison warden or friend, who fucking knew?

but bellamy kept you busy. kept you distracted from the brewing storm in your head.

you got used to him. bellamy blake became your new normal and even made you smile a few times, usually when firelight was reflecting off of both of your cheeks as you roasted your dinner. the first time, you sat on a log beside him, your supper sitting inside of the flames, blackening. he went to grab the stick from you–probably guessing you were attempting to light yourself on fire, or that you’d begun to dissociate. you snatch the stick back. “it’s burning,” he warns, voice having a sharp edge.

“sorry if i would rather taste charcoal than two headed, six tailed, mutated squirrel.”

that night he held you. you let him.

close to his chest and away from any and all danger, you slept soundly and dreamlessly for the first time in years. the sleep–it helped with your mood, too.

bellamy held you again. he always liked to hold you—to have a hand in yours or resting on your shoulder. this time, the touch wasn’t comforting, to assure himself that you were real and not going anywhere. this time that physical touch was the only reason you weren’t going anywhere. his grip was tighter, thank god.

the grounders were coming an the only way to stop them or at least to slow them down was to blow up the bridge. you needed to place the bomb but everyone was terrified to let you go, bellamy especially. you did what you had to, sneaking away and setting it. you were scared–you didn’t know when it happened, when you started wanting to live, but it was a soul-deep change that you knew had something to do with the blake siblings. specifically bellamy, who’s companionship you hadn’t wanted but needed more than anything.

you placed the bomb on the bridge and detonated it, running as fast as you could as the moss covered stone crumbled behind you. the structural integrity was giving away and you were so close tot he edge but… you started to fall. you closed your eyes, pressed them shut as tightly as you could and then that hand was there.

bellamy’s. closed around your wrist and holding on for all he was worth. your heart beat so hard in your chest you had to look down to make sure you hadn’t been speared by a grounder, and that it wasn’t leaking out.

you loved him and you were so thankful he never listened to you. when you said you didn’t need him, when earlier, you shouted at him and told him not to follow you–it was a weak distraction but now, he pulled you back onto solid ground and wrapped you in his arms and you had no regrets. none at all. well… you had one, but it was easily rectified.

it was a struggle, pushing him away at the shoulders, holding him at arms length and seeing the worry on his face all over again. it was a struggle but when you stopped regretting things and dove back in, moulding your lips together in a passionate kiss, everything was better. bell’s hand palmed your cheek and pulled you impossibly closer as yours moved through his hair.

#the 100 #bellamy blake #octavia blake #marcus kane #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x you #bellamy blake x y/n

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fhrlclln · 11 months

Note

Hello! I read your angsty Miguel fic and I need more immediatelyyyyy

Basically I’ve been seeing some tiktoks pointing out that when Miguel talks about the Peter from Miles universe, he sounds very emotional. Like heartbroken emotional. Some ppl theorize “hey what if they knew each other and that’s why Miguel is even more pissed?” My head ran with it and what if it was spider!fem! reader who was the Spider-Man on Miles’ universe who died?

Miguel and reader were hardcore pining for each other but he never made a move cuz he was terrified of anything happening and still had his heart closed off. Only to get hit with the intense feelings of grief and anger when the news arrives that she’s dead and only serves as a motivator to stop Miles

miguel o’hara x spider!fem! reader

OOOH THIS IS AN INTERESTING APPROACH ON THAT. and also, 🤌 angst 🤌, we are on an angst train now HEHE.

on that note, i’m changing the lore a bit again, since in my understanding the first time miguel leaped through the multiverse is after the events of into the spiderverseee. i find it so cute that what if miguel would actually just observe in a dimension and hang around a bit before the main events will transpire. T_T

anways enjoy, anon babes!! i had fun researching and writing this. <3

angst under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

when miguel first leaped into the spider-verse, it was way before when miles was bitten by the spider. the multiverse to him at that time, was a working experiment for him; and still had room for improvement as he created a prototype of the dimensional time watch for the big dimension leap he was studying with lyla. sure, it made him able to leap into certain dimensions, though only for a short amount of time since the prototype still had the faulty feature of preventing his molecules from destabilizing. lyla told him it was dangerous to stay so long in a separate dimension, since they still had to study the part to prevent that faulty feature. overall, this minimal dimension leaps were just a trial for both. sort of a observation trial. yet…

he just hadn’t expected to meet you so early in his life.

earth-1610B, in calculations, he wasn’t expecting much from this variant dimension, it was already normal as he can tell. typical setting and typical story that runs along from previous spider dimensions he leaped into. miguel only chastised himself to explore the dimension for at least an hour or so, knowing the longer he stays, he might disappear from existence and he wasn’t going to risk that. lyla would beat his ass if they don’t complete the watch. in his observation though, he found it comforting to be hanging around a different location than in the futuristic nueva york. it was more… comforting he thinks.

cars honked, the sound of new yorkers chatting along talking about everything, the lights at night was an absolute scene to behold when he sits atop of the empire state building; a little hard to climb up there but he managed to climb without recking the building with his claws. everything was an interesting sight to look at, even watching the neighborhood’s own spider-woman fight sometimes.

you were interesting and perfect, as miguel deemed. everyone loved you, always fighting hard and though you sometimes get beaten down, there was always this sheer determination for you to stand up. which was something he admired even though he won’t admit it. and you’re pretty. too pretty in fact when he got a glimpse of your face at some point. tonight however, he might have fucked up big time the rules he set himself to not fiddle with any dimension he had visited. talk to their spider-people.

he was unmasked and dressed in casual clothing with a hat on, blending with the crowd. miguel enjoyed a stroll along times square, holding a classic new york hotdog in his hand as he takes a bite out of it. he took the time to observe times square, completely not noticing you silently speed-walking by as you collided with him on accident, both your attentions caught by the sudden disturbance.

“ay, watch where—“

“i’m sorry!” you squeak, alarmed at his harsh tone as you frantically glanced up, eyes wide staring at him. his eyes widened as well hearing your voice, your pretty face staring at him as you apologize profusely for not looking as miguel told himself he was screwed right there and now.

“god, sorry! you have mustard on your t-shirt, shit, shit, shit—“ you frowned seeing the stain as miguel glanced down to it, cheeks blooming hot. was he embarrassed? he wanted to roll his eyes and tell you it was fine but you just had to wipe it with your own handkerchief before he could say anything.

“glad you’re wearing black. mustard stains are pretty fucking hard to wash out. learned it from personal experience with a white tee.” you babbled, smiling at it as miguel silently lets you wipe it off, admiring how serious you are to getting the mustard off, that look of determination.

“and there! done!” you smiled again, setting his heart racing, he was quiet for a moment until you just started talking again, embarrassed this time. “sorry if—“

“no, it’s fine. thanks.” he cuts you off, a smug smile tugging on his lips as you shied away from his gaze. the spider-woman shy before him? unbelievable, it was cute to think that without your mask you’d be this cute thing. he gulps as you nodded, he was expecting you to leave but you just started something about you rarely bumping into people these days awkwardly. miguel listens of course, actually only a little as he was too focused on staring at every feature of your face, dumbly nodding along silently until you introduced yourself with your star smile.

“i’m y/n by the way.” you shyly offer your hand for a simple handshake as he accepts it, saying his own in greeting.

“miguel.”

“nice to meet you, miguel.”

it was bliss that he had met you before. though he remained distant, putting this silent wall between the two of you as he knows that quiet thump in his heart is threatening him somehow. but who wouldn’t like you? you’re beautiful and you have that kind laughter he’d like to hear every time he would visit or the fact that he’d soften when you smile at him, making him feel content. sure, he was presenting himself as dodgy and mysterious knowing you would ask him about certain things of his personal life as you two got to know each other more and he’d discretely dodge some. it was a frequent thing for the two of you to only meet by times square, sort of a unknown thought between the both of you for it to be deemed a meet-up place. he enjoyed every single time you’d greet him, though he remained closed-off a bit, trying not to get too attached yet sometimes he’d wished for more with you as the longer you two spend time with each other. but he knew better than to pursue what his mind was telling him again and again.

was it dangerous? yes. did he care? maybe so. but that wouldn’t stop him from always picking your dimension every time he’d ‘test’ the watch again.

and now he wishes you didn’t bump into him that day as he chases miles up the speed train heading to the moon.

“you’re a mistake!” miguel yells as he slams miles on the train, the poor boy yelped at his rough handling as miguel pinned him down. the sudden wave of sadness taking over as he remembers you. your smile, your awkward jokes, your laughter, your eyes… everything.

“if you hadn’t been bit, your spider-woman would’ve lived!” he shouts, anger rushing through his veins, his brows furrowed as miles struggled in his grasp. the teenage boy’s face flashed a wave of sadness remembering you. miguel can feel the tears threatening to well in his eyes yet only anger and frustration were present as he blamed everything on miles now.

“instead she died, saving you.” his tone faltered a bit despite the harshness he puts on. his heart clenched, memories flooding in, grief striking his heart again. the hollowness had been there since you died and hollowed further when his daughter had as well, crumpling his once self. the mere time you two had together was cut short and he blamed it on miles dumbly. his own emotions blinding him to put the blame on the poor boy who’s just trying to save his dad now.

“she would’ve stopped the collider before it would have ever been off. spot wouldn’t exist and none of this wouldn’t have happened.” he punctuates every single word, holding himself back as miles tried to wiggle out of his grasp again, only for him to slam him down again for the boy to listen to him. he ignores the yells from peter and gwen pleading for him to let miles go yet he pesters further, determined to let it all out.

“and she—“ he tries to find the words for you, remembering every single detail and every conversation you had with him. his mind flashing memories of that glint in your eyes when you passionately tell him about something you liked and how you would get this look of awe when he says or asks something about it. how kind and caring you are to him even though you barely knew each other before. remembering the time when he observed from afar as you swung around the neighborhood, bringing smiles on every person’s face, bringing it to him as well. and he regretted so much for not ever telling you about how you made him smile. miles’ eyes widened seeing this new look of vulnerability on miguel’s face as he stops struggling for a moment in surprise. miguel blinks, shaking his head as all came weighing down. you, his daughter, everyone, the multiverse as his own voice cracks despite the searing anger laced within it.

“she was everything.“

｡･:*˚:✧｡

😭😭😭

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara imagine #oscar isaac #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #fnhrlcllnwrites #eri’s request box 📦 ｡･:*˚:✧｡

823 notes · View notes

nemastraea · 6 months

Text

Doormat extraordinaire: Andrew Graves is down horrendous for his own sister | Part 1

Or as I like to call it, actual literal word vomit attempting a proper character analysis!

Here's a link to the AO3 version for archive purposes: The doormat extraordinaire has a bit of a romantic streak,

Content warning: This will heavily feature spoilers from Episodes 1 & 2 of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. Trigger warning: Abuse, cannibalism, child neglect, codependency, harassment, incest, murder, self-harm, and suicide. Disclaimer: I will occasionally reference an extremely normal essay from Sufficient Velocity commenter Leyleyfication (here). It would be a lot easier to read this essay first as Leyleyfication does a pretty good job establishing the following: - Ashley is dependent on Andrew to assure and validate her of her own insecurities, and - The game heavily implies that Andrew wants to fuck his own sister.

Anyway: The Coffin of Andy and Leyley! A game in early access where a pair of siblings are stuck through a seemingly never-ending quarantine together, desperate not to starve to death. When their cultist neighbor dies in a ritual gone wrong, they rationally resort to cannibalism. Fun!

I am definitely going to assume that you read Leyleyfication's extremely normal essay (I am on my knees, begging you to read that). Which is why this essay immediately starts with, "yeah, Andrew definitely wants to fuck his sister" as its baseline.

What I will be adding to that funny little cauldron of fucked up sibling dynamics in a horror visual novel are the following: Andrew's fixation and sexual attraction manifests as his desire to control, dominate, and possess Ashley. And it is framed as a fatalist attraction and the totality of his existence (for worse or even worse).

Because of Tumblr's limit for 30 images per post, though, I'm going to have to split this extremely normal and reasonably lengthy essay into... multiple posts! Yeah! I have no idea how long this will fucking go!

So first things first: how can we tell that Andrew is even attracted to Ashley in the first place?

Nemlei (Devlog 05). Note the hickeys above and below Ashley's choker and her left inner thigh, and Andrew's left hand creeping into her right thigh.

As Leyleyfication points out, the game primes us to believe that Andrew is a pushover and Ashley is his abuser. This occurs in the Steam page as it explicitly says Ashley is "in fact, very bad" and Andrew is a "doormat extraordinaire." Moreover, it's very easy to tell that Ashley is, on some degree, obsessed with Andrew:

She's happy to hear that Julia broke up with Andrew over the phone;

She repeatedly accuses him of finding the Lady from Room 302 attractive and he 'tried anything with her;' and

Her flashback to wanting to punish her friend Nina ("the Bitch in the Box") for crushing on Andrew.

Episode 1, dream and memory. Leyley previously said that Nina should know better than to 'steal from another woman,' referring to herself. The implication that Andy is hers is toyed with after this moment, when she says she'd put Andy back in the box.

The game does prime us to think that Ashley is Andrew's abuser. It also suggests that Ashley projects an unrequited and incestuous love onto Andrew. Before we consider Episode 2's narrative, Episode 1 gives the initial impression that if Andrew comes to reciprocate her feelings, it's more of a reaction and subsuming to her will. That it may not be something he wants for himself and independent of Ashley's manipulation.

But again, I do believe Andrew wants to fuck Ashley. And always has been. He just frequently vacillate between 'subtle' and 'really fucking obvious' tells that completely take advantage of the game's third person limited POV.

Keep in mind that both Andrew and Ashley are extremely unreliable narrators. We aren't going to get information they personally do not care about and that is on top of our own choices as the player.

(A digressive example: you will not learn that the founder and CEO of Toxisoda's company was a former surgeon unless you interact with the television in Andrew's Episode 2 dream and memory of their blood oath. Otherwise, it neatly ties into the surgeon that Mrs. Graves conveniently says she was directed to regarding the siblings' quarantine in the main story.)

When it's really fucking obvious

When you play as Andrew in Episode 2, his post-dinner argument with Ashley carefully frames them both. They are cramped in the foreground and Andrew's left arm is conveniently blocked by Ashley and the kitchen knife, as seen here.

Episode 2, common route. Prior to this, you can interact with Mrs. Graves for her to pointedly comment on the siblings being inseparable.

At this point in the game, their physical closeness is something we're used to by now. After all, we've already seen Ashley on his lap at least twice; Andrew slept in her bed in Episode 1; and Ashley confirmed they've shared the same motel bed multiple times in the one-week interim between Episodes 1 & 2.

But the game abruptly shifts to Mrs. Graves' POV when she enters the scene and not only do we see the two as physically close, but we notice a few more details.

Episode 2, common route. The first picture transitions from Andrew's POV to Mrs. Graves as it introduces us to her entering the scene.

The contrast of how spacious the kitchen is from Mrs. Graves' POV to Andrew's cramped POV is obvious. More importantly, Andrew's fingers loop through Ashley's belt loops when the two are huddled together. When Mrs. Graves clears her throat, the two don't really separate.

Ashley pivots on her left foot so that her body is turned to their mother, not Andrew, but she doesn't step away from him. Andrew, meanwhile, recoils from Ashley and withdraws his hand. But he isn't turning his body to face their mother like Ashley does here. His attention, at least in this moment, is still towards Ashley (and, yanno, the sink).

Episode 2, common route. Two things to consider in the second picture: Andrew hides Ashley's bite mark on his cheek with his left sleeve and he conveniently moves the pillow from behind him to his front.

The 'tell' isn't so much as the two are unusually physically close. Again, we're used to that by now. But it's how the two siblings react whenever Mrs. Graves comes into the picture. Ashley doesn't really give a fuck about whether or not people assume the worst of her or even her intentions regarding Andrew. To Ashley, their proximity is normal and anyone who sees that as a problem is not worth an explanation or reason.

But Andrew is at least subconsciously aware it's 'not normal.' As far as these moments are concerned, Andrew instinctively tries to do damage control by either putting space between them or keeping his hands occupied so they aren't visibly touching Ashley. Still, he either does not mind or actively appreciates his physical closeness with Ashley.

When it's really fucking obvious (but only in hindsight)

In Episode 1, Ashley passes out after trying to clean up after the apartment. Regardless of her passing out in the living room, the bathroom, or their parents' room, she will wake up on the couch with her head pillowed by Andrew's lap.

Episode 1, Ashley's POV. Andrew's hands often hover over Ashley's head, but more than that—

I personally didn't notice this until I replayed Episode 1, when I basically have the hindsight of Andrew's fixation with hair. But yes, his fingers idly twirl through the ends of Ashley's hair as they watch TV. It's implied that Andrew can and will do this when Ashley pillows his lap, awake or asleep. He does not recoil from it when Ashley does wake up and later on, in Episode 2, even continues to brush it from her face.

Episode 2, common route. Ashley fell asleep at the passenger seat, so Andrew had to have transferred her to the back seat to pillow her head again. Though, technically, she's more cramped at the back seat than if he'd just reclined the passenger seat.

So far, we've seen that Andrew has a natural tendency to not only be physically close to Ashley, but to hover over her personal space and be in constant and direct contact with her. Whether it's by having her head on his lap, twirling her hair through his fingers, or even constantly grabbing her by the head in various states of comfort, playfulness, or outright threat (but let's put a pin on that for now).

The weight behind this candid contact shifts when Episode 2 draws a pretty explicit parallel between Julia and Ashley. Assuming that you interacted with Julia's landline and heard Ashley's voicemails, you know (and Andrew knows) that Ashley draws that connection herself:

DO YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME!? Just because you can fuck him and I can't? You think that's love?! Are you fucking delusional?? Cumdumpsters like you are just that. He will never love you. Not like he loves me. I am the only one. I am everything. I am the secrets you'll never hear. When he lies in bed at night, and when he needs someone to hold on to... It's not you he seeks out. It is me.

Episode 2, common route. Andrew's dream and vision implies that Andrew's heard these voicemails before.

That connection extends to the hair contact as well, as Andrew goes in to hug Julia, cards his hand through her hair and requests she tie her hair up.

Episode 2, common route. Andrew's dream and memory of Julia when they're older. From the use of Andrew's present-age portrait, suggests is closer to the timeline of the game's events than his and Ashley's memories as Andy and Leyley.

From this moment, we can have one of two assumptions: either Andrew wants Julia's (black) hair put up like Ashley's, or Ashley caught onto Andrew's hair kink and puts her hair up to imitate it.

Regardless, we infer the following:

Andrew teases affection through touching and even pulling on one's hair.

His fixation on ponytails and pulling on them does not exclude his own sister. It still stands and without reservation, perhaps more explicitly since he can do it so candidly, as we saw before.

The last of that Julia-Ashley parallel is self-contained within Episode 2. But only if you end up in the Burial route regardless of Ashley's platonic or incestuous vision.

Episode 2, common route (first picture) and Burial route (second picture). It's worth pointing out that Andrew is actually disinterested and moody during his conversation with Julia, and only perks up when he mentions Ashley or feigns care for Julia (since he extends his care of Ashley to her as well).

The game ends up drawing parallels on how Andrew treats Ashley, for better or for worse, with his ex (which is definitely worse, poor Julia). In doing so, the game blurs the lines between romantic affection for Julia and 'platonic and familial' affection for Ashley.

Y'all, this isn't even getting into how Andrew respectfully gives his parents space and only crowds them when he threatens them with his cleaver. In his mind, Ashley and Julia are in that same space of physical and romantic displays of affection; something he reserves only for them (only without reservation for Ashley) that does not extend to anyone else. His ex-girlfriend, and his sister. Shit's wild.

When it's obvious BUT it's violent!

That isn't to say that his hair fixation (hair kink?) is completely innocuous, though, as it rears its ugly head (pun unintended) in Decay. Which is what that previous pin was for! Yay!

You end up in the Decay route if Ashley doesn't trust Andrew with keeping an eye on their parents. Here, Ashley sleeps on their parents' bed by herself and has an alarming vision: an unknown party chases after her through the in-between and when they catch up to her, it's Andrew. Ashley has nowhere to run and Andrew eventually grabs her and threatens to kill her.

Whether or not Ashley can defend herself depends on Andrew expending all of her gun's ammo when he deals with the hitman, or not. But that outcome divergence will matter much, much later (so that's another pin for us to come back to).

The sequence of events actually mirrors the way the siblings ambush the Lady from Room 302 back in Episode 1. There, Andrew closes in on her and grabs the Lady by her wrist and uses his front to pin and restrain her. With his cleaver to her throat, the Lady is completely at his mercy.

Episode 1 & 2, common route (first picture) and Decay route (second, third, and fourth pictures). Note that Andrew restrains the Lady from Room 302 by the wrist while with Ashley, by her hair.

Andrew asserts control of the person and the situation through violence. Whether it's by killing them (the wardens) or by threatening physical violence (the Lady from Room 302 and Ashley). It's always on the table for him. As Leyleyfication puts it, "He's so calculated in how he approaches his use of violence [here]."

That violence includes Ashley. It's always on the table where Ashley's concerned. The game even juxtaposes when Andrew threatens violence and physical assault 'playfully' versus when he's seriously out for blood:

When you interact with the wall of call girls' numbers and Ashley jokes about leaving her number on the wall, Andrew 'jokingly' threatens to backhand her for even thinking about it.

When you interact with their parents' latched window for a second time, Andrew 'teases' slapping Ashley if she doesn't find a way to open it. (Ashley jokingly asks if it's on her ass or at her face, and assumes it must be the face when Andrew says she'll have to find out.)

The two other times that Andrew exerts violence against Ashley are both in Episode 1 & 2. We can remember when that happens in Episode 1, when Andrew's had it with Ashley's fits and threatens to kill her:

Episode 1, common route. Y'all, Andrew was choking her hard enough for his grip to bruise.

It happens again in Decay when he confronts Ashley about repeatedly calling him Andy and therefore, breaking the promise he coerced her into from Episode 1.

Episode 2, Decay route. Another thing to keep in mind is that Andrew's outburst is preceded by Ashley prodding him about his current state and insisting that Andrew was fine with 'Andy' during their home invasion.

In Episode 1, Andrew resorts to harming Ashley because he's fucking had it with her accusing him repeatedly of trying anything with the Lady from 302 and, in her eyes, his 'infidelity.' Where she accuses Andrew of not loving her enough that if his eye catches another girl, he'd leave her behind or flip on her. In Episode 2, she's poking and prodding on his boundaries on 'Andy' and whether or not, once again, he's with her on their now-committed life of joint crime.

If I can give another example, it happens in Andrew's common route memory of Nina's death and his blood oath with Leyley.

Episode 2, common route. Prior to this, Andy expresses immense exasperation at Leyley's tantrums over him 'thinking about that bitch again.' When he goes to grab the kitchen knife, cleans it, and returns to Leyley on his bed—he's briefly considering killing her.

Andrew threatens Ashley violently whenever he intends to confront her on her perceived brattiness, for lack of a better word. And keep Leyleyfication's essay segment on Ashley's insecurities and need for Andrew's validation in mind here—when Ashley does this, she wants and even needs Andrew to comfort her. But her aggression treads Andrew's patience and really, his tolerance of her behavior.

When Ashley's anger, clinging behavior, insecurities, and possessiveness of Andrew slips his control and tolerance, he resorts to violence to coerce or even dominate her.

I think (or hope, if it's clear enough) it reinforces what Leyleyfication points out:

The truth of the matter is, Ashley can only make Andrew do anything because he lets her. I don't mean in the sense that I'm saying abuse victims let their abusers emotionally abuse them, I mean in the sense that he is clearly considering his options on the table and choosing to discard those that could stop her, or bring an end to any of this.

It also reflects on another aspect of why Andrew resorts to violence: in all three situations, Andrew remarks on Ashley's behavior and her sake. If she acts up again once they're out of the apartment, it'll cause trouble for him while they're evading authorities. If she's going to call him Andy from hereon out, what's the point of running away with her. If she expects him to leverage keeping 'her secret,' he won't because it's for her sake.

Andrew rationalizes his attempt to control of Ashley's behavior as being for her sake. But really, isn't it him confining her behavior to something he can tolerate and personally handle?

I'd also like to point out that Andrew admits that he noticed Ashley push for calling him 'Andy' during the home invasion, and he did not argue with her on it while they held their parents hostage and readied to sacrifice them. We can infer that when Andrew calculates his use of violence, that can also factor when, where, and how he exerts it.

Well, that's where I can reasonably end this half of my word vomit! Now, onwards, to part 2!

#lia's conspiracy board #The Coffin of Andy and Leyley #TCOAAL: Andrew Graves #TCOAAL: Ashley Graves #ship: coffincest #character analysis

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heartbreakgrill · 8 months

Text

stiles stilinksi: breakable heaven; part 5, “i don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you.”

a/n: enjoy this bc it’s gonna be sad boi hours in the next part ;)

tagging: @ariianelle

the world shifted, just a little bit.

stiles and y/n found themselves spending a lot more time together. granted, that time was often under the sheets, in a locked car, or- just once- in the locker room after a game. nonetheless, the skin on skin contact always led to conversations, conversations that were deepening in content. they were getting to know each other, forming an attachment both swore would never even exist.

as the time passed, they each found solace in one another, a comfort, a sort of destressor that neither was able to substitute with anyone or anything else. neither were aware of this, but it was as present as the air.

y/n's parents were always out of town, and, while she didn’t have any doubts that they loved and supported her, they were absentee. they missed out on the everyday moments in her life. so, she was usually all by herself through it all. sure, danny came over every once and while, but there were still those periods of time where she was left, literally in the middle of nowhere, all alone. stiles was a warm body to sit next to, an attentive ear to listen to her troubles or woes, without judgement or expectations. he was just there. whenever she needed or wanted.

and, for stiles, y/n was just a human being. she didn't have claws, fangs, premonitions about his friends' deaths, or any other intense, supernatural features. this fact he was positive of since he’d had both scott and derek invade and smell her locker to ensure she was really a living, breathing, human girl.

with all he had to deal with, every single day, he was grateful to get to act like a normal teenage boy some days out of the week. laughing instead of fighting for his life, watching movies instead of drawing up investigation boards.

today was one of those bad days, for the both of them. a bad day where they just needed each other.

the number of killings in beacon hills was rising, rapidly, day by grueling day. and there wasn’t much stiles could do to help. he could ramble, on and on, about the mindless theories rattling around inside his head. he could tag along to random warehouses and parking lots, only to hide away once the real conflict began.

but, he was overall useless to the entire process.

it made his shoulders a little heavier some days, to know he had no control over anything anymore. scott could take away pain, lydia could help save somebody before they died, allison could shoot down three different wolves with the same arrow.

stiles could only talk.

today was one of those days where he just felt kind of shitty about it all.

dr. deaton was missing. and there wasn’t much of anything stiles could do to help. he felt like he always just got in the way.

y/n was in a similar boat.

her parents were out of town for the third week now. they’d promised to be home this past weekend, and had talked y/n up with a week full of dinners, family outings, a visit to her school, normal things that parents normally did with their normal children. of course, they’d cancelled on her last minute because of some conference across the world. she’d asked danny to come stay for the week, but he said he couldn’t. he was going out of town with ethan.

she felt abandoned.

usually, y/n would sulk, by herself, with take out, a round of depressing movies, and homework she didn’t really feel like doing. sometimes, she’d even beg her boss to let her come in for a shift.

but, it was saturday evening, so the staffing was already full for the rest of the night.

so, she texted stiles.

y/n: pls tell me ur bored

stiles: what time?

y/n: anytime :)

stiles: omw gorgeous

–

“alright, i’ve got it.”

stiles plopped down onto the couch beside y/n, bowl of popcorn in left hand, a can of dr. pepper in the right. he crossed his ankles and stretched his legs onto the coffee table. y/n sat criss-cross beside him and extended part of the blanket she wore onto his lap. stiles set the bowl down atop his covered thighs.

“oh, yeah, what’s that?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

y/n pointed to the television, and he followed her gaze. netflix was open on the bright screen, with a movie queued up. “the first scream.”

stiles nodded appreciatively, until she added, “aka, the best slasher film of all time.”

he squinted his face and shook his head rapidly, “i cannot believe you just said that!”

y/n giggled at his expression, “don’t even argue with me right now!”

“it’s hard not to argue with someone who is so blatantly wrong!” he replied.

y/n stole the popcorn from his lap, “thats not even a good counter. at least make a decent rebuttal!”

“okay,” he peered over at her with a matter-of-fact look, “halloween is the best slasher because;” he counted each point off on his fingers, it has a cooler villain, better kill sequences, and the hottest final girl.”

y/n rolled her eyes, and shoved his shoulder with her own, “you just like it cause of jamie lee curtis’ boob scene.”

stiles pursed his lips, “they are pretty great.”

“but they didn’t need to add nudity to that movie! that’s so sexist and gross to support that idea, you pig.”

stiles stole a handful of popcorn, shoveling it into his mouth. “what can i say, im a boob guy.”

if she didn’t know him so well, she’d think stiles, in this moment, was kinda gross. but, she recognized his humor better than most. she appreciated that it was sarcasm. and, he kinda looked cute with his cheeks full of popcorn.

y/n blushed at the comment, looking down slightly, “oh, i know.” boy, did she.

he tapped the edge of the bowl, garnering her attention again, “don’t do that.”

her brows furrowed, meeting his eyes, “do what?”

“don’t be dirty. i don’t think we’ll make it through the movie if you start acting up.” as his words drifted out, stiles’ tone of voice lowered. he leaned his head closer to hers and the corner of his lips turned up in a devilish smirk.

y/n grinned in response. she grabbed the back of his neck, smashing her lips into his, drawing a sharp breath off his tongue. stiles moaned into her, barely catching the popcorn before it could spill. his other hand clutched his dr. pepper, so he didn’t have much leverage against her advances.

stiles clambered around until he found the coffee table, shoving the popcorn bowl atop it. “wait, wait, wait-“ stiles gently grabbed her biceps, tugging her off of him delicately.

y/n’s face fell instantly. she cowered away, hugging herself with her arms. she thought that was what he wanted, but now it seemed he was mad. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry- i didn’t-“

“no, no, no,” stiles set a wary hand between them. “you didn’t do anything wrong. you’re okay, it’s okay.”

“i’m sorry,” she slouched, frowning. she relaxed a little bit, but the moment still worried her. “i thought that’s what you wanted?”

stiles shook his head and grabbed her hand, holding it between his like a prayer. “no, no- i mean- yes. i want you, i always- want you. but, i don’t- i don’t want you to feel pressured to do that all the time. i want to watch a movie with you. i like just hanging out, too. i don’t just expect sex out of you. that’s not all this is-“

stiles pressed his lips together. he always said too much.

always said too much.

y/n let out a breath she had been holding at the top of her chest. her mind raced with a thousand words she didn’t how to say.

this changed everything. the rules were blurred. the lines were crossed.

and it now seemed that, maybe, just maybe, he wanted her like she wanted him.

all she could say was, “okay.”

she didn’t want to rush things. she didn’t want to force him to label it. she didn’t want to get in over her head, throw her hopes up, and get let down again.

stiles’ worried expression fell into a gentle smile, “okay, hey, i’ll even let you think scream is the best slasher film, just for the night.”

an easy giggle fell out of her. “deal.”

stiles fixed the blanket across their laps that had fallen off slightly, while y/n tucked her legs up onto the seat, cozy against the back of the couch.

he stretched an arm across the back of her seat, inching over to her slyly. y/n bit back a smile and leaned into his side. stiles choked back a cough, a strangled attempt to clear his throat. he set his arm around her, fingers lingering over her shoulder.

the movie started.

it took them a few minutes to loosen after that moment. but, eventually, they fell back into their same routine- stiles made lame jokes, y/n nearly fell over laughing at all of them. he compared scream to halloween, calling out which parts would probably be better with a michael myers killer instead of ghost face. she argued back that he was a sore loser.

eventually, the movie was drawing to a close. the credit scene was just about to roll across the television screen when y/n’s phone started ringing from the coffee table. she jumped slightly, a little spooked from the movie, though she’d seen it a million times.

stiles tossed his head back, laughing over her fright. she shot him a dirty look as she reached for her phone. he took his arm off of her, but patted her thigh in a mocking manner. “don’t worry, i’ll protect you.”

y/n shoved his arm playfully, but her attention was drawn away by the contact showing up on her screen. ethan was calling her.

“give me a second,” she mumbled, leaving the room with confusion written all over face.

stiles watched her go, sitting forward on the couch. her distant tone worried him a moment. he pulled out his own phone, hoping for something from scott. updates, suspects, something. hoping the plague wasn’t going to reach her, too.

his screen was black.

stiles wanted to tell her about everything. maybe he should. it would explain his erratic, anxious, flakey behavior.

but, telling her would bring her into it.

and he didn’t know how well he could protect her.

so, the secret was just his for now.

stiles opened scott’s contact, ready to give him a quick call, just in case, when y/n reentered the room. “hey, everything okay?” he barely glanced up at her, but had to do a double take when he noticed how she looked.

y/n was shaking, visibly, clutching her phone in her right hand, which was still held up near her ear as though she was about to answer the phone again. a few tears escaped her eyes, and her pupils were dilated with fear and sadness.

“y/n?” stiles stood up, slowly, tone rattled.

had his troubles finally plagued her, too? was the one sacred, peaceful thing he had finally tainted by the cruelty of his reality? a million worried, terrified thoughts sped through his mind.

y/n met his eye, “danny’s in the hospital. he-he almost died. hi-his l-lung collapsed.”

stiles moved quickly. he carefully took her by the waist, guided her into a pair of shoes, into his jeep. he stayed attentive to her the entire car ride. he played her taylor swift, nearly sat at a 180° angle while he drove, kept a firm hand on her thigh, and spoke to her in a soothing tone. y/n was nearly mute. she didn’t know what to say or what to do. she was just too stunned.

it was always shocking to discover that death could just come knocking on the door whenever it felt like it.

when they finally reached the hospital, stiles opened the car door for her. she grabbed onto his hand, following him into the building.

no one was allowed to visit with danny, at least not until the morning. unfortunately, his parents were out of town, like y/n’s, and couldn’t get back until monday. so y/n and ethan were all danny had until then.

“so, he’s gonna be okay?” stiles scratched the back of his neck nervously, knee bouncing.

y/n sat beside him in a waiting room chair, clutching his other hand till her knuckles were white. they stared up at melissa, awaiting her answer.

melissa returned their stare them with a kind smile, “he’s gonna be just fine. we’re gonna keep him overnight, just to monitor him. but, he’ll be alright.”

y/n took a deep breath. her head fell back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut in relief. melissa nodded once, reassuring them again, before turning to leave. she squeezed stiles’ shoulder as she went.

stiles turned his body to y/n, taking her hand in both of his. she finally met his eye. he was glad to see hers, the storm within them more weathered now, calmer like the water right after a wave. he smiled slightly.

“hey,” he whispered.

y/n finally smiled back. “hey. i’m…sorry if i freaked you out. i don’t do well with near-death experiences. i’m kind of a pussy.”

she laughed at herself, head dropping down in shane. stiles disagreed quickly, “no, no, hey,” he pushed the hair from y/n’s cheek, cupped her face, guided her eyes back to his, “you’re not a pussy. you’re a human being. you were scared and worried for your friend. i’m not judging for how you reacted. i just want to know you’re okay.”

she nodded, “i’m okay. just- tired, now. that was overwhelming. sitting here for an hour, waiting to hear if my best friend was dead or not.”

stiles brushed his thumb over her cheek, “i know, baby, i know.”

the word slipped so easily off his tongue, that he didn’t notice. y/n did, but she wouldn’t allow herself to get bent out shape over it. there was no time for that right now.

“i’m gonna stay here with him tonight.”

stiles moved his hand back to their entwined ones, “i’ll wait with you.”

y/n shook her head in disagreement, “i can’t ask that-“

“you didn’t ask,” he interrupted her, pointedly.

y/n went to say something else when scott disrupted their moment. he came out of danny’s room, nearly appearing out of thin air. stiles could tell he was on edge.

“stiles, hey, i was just about to call you,” he said, glancing between the both of them. “sorry about danny, y/n.”

“thanks,” she smiled slightly, though she was confused. “how did you get in to see-“

“stiles,” scott pretended to not hear her, turning his attention to his friend, “we need to talk.”

stiles patted y/n’s hand gently, “i’ll be right back, okay?”

he stood to leave her, but she didn’t let go of his hand. she held on until he was too far to reach. before he followed scott down the hall, however, he turned back, shrugging off his jacket.

“i know you’re gonna need this,” he murmured, tucking it around her shoulders.

y/n watched him walk away with scott, a dazed smile on her face.

things might be working out.

–

stiles had to leave. at least, scott needed stiles to leave. derek, isaac, boyd, and cora were planning a trap or something of the sort, and they needed to go help them. stiles needed to go help his friends.

but he didn’t want to.

for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to help. he wanted to stay here, in the hospital, with her. he wanted to hold her hand, sleep in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, until the second they could visit danny. until the sun shone on her beautiful face.

stiles didn’t want to stand on the sidelines while his friends blood splattered across the walls around him. he especially didn’t want to watch somebody die tonight.

but, he didn’t protest when scott ushered him out of the building.

he had to do what he always had to do. it was expected. necessary.

like a sacrifice.

–

y/n tucked danny’s sheets around his chin like a mother would, before standing back to look at her work, proudly.

“you’re clinically insane,” he glared at her. the eye bags drearing his face were more prominent in the lighting coming from the lamp on his bedside table. y/n frowned deeply at the sight of him, so tired, nearly lifeless before her.

“you’re my little baby,” she cooed, sitting down beside him on the bed. it took everything in her not to squeeze his cheeks.

“i am a man,” he denied her.

y/n waved him off, “whatever helps you sleep. listen-“ she stood up, collecting her phone and keys off his bedside table, “i will be right down the hall. do not even hesitate to ask me for anything. water, a hug, maybe some cuddles-“

“go to sleep. you look like a walking corpse.”

y/n felt like one. they’d just gotten home the hospital, and it was 8pm on sunday. the waiting room chair had been uncomfortable, and she had felt a little off with the absence of stiles’ warm hands and soft words. so, she didn’t sleep very well. plus, sitting beside danny’s bed all day while they ran tests just added to the tired stress she was feeling.

but, the solace of his smell on his hoodie, and his sporadic text messages, got her through it all. he checked in once an hour, every hour. his phrasing was short, though, and he didn’t reply very quickly. but, stiles was still there. he was there for her.

now, y/n felt like she was going to collapse. so, she softly shut danny’s door behind her and headed for the guest room. it was right next door. she was too scared to leave him alone, so she was going to stay until his parents got home tomorrow night. she was even skipping school to look after him. ethan was going to stop by in the morning, today, he, apparently, had been caught up with something.

she didn’t really trust him. but that was a problem for another day.

y/n slipped out of her fresh pajama bottoms to get ready for bed because it was usually pretty warm in danny’s house. though she kept stiles’ hoodie on.

that morning, at the hospital, nurse mccall had delivered y/n’s book bag, packed neatly with a few essentials, like pjs, her toothbrush, her phone charger, to danny’s room.

stiles had gone out of his way to ensure she had her things how he’d gotten into her house? she didn’t know, and she didn’t really want to question it. she was just grateful he thought of her at all.

y/n shut the light off and got comfy under the covers. just as she went to shut off her phone, a phone call came through.

stiles.

“hello?” she whispered, voice too tired to speak too loud. y/n lay her head upon the pillow, shoving the phone between her ear and it. she felt her eyes closing.

“hey.”

the sound of his voice brought her so much comfort. the exhaustion was takning over now.

“how are you doing?” was the first thing he asked.

y/n smiled, which was visible through her words as she spoke, “better now.”

“oh, yeah?” stiles teased gently. “i was just checking in. was worried about you.”

“i was worried about you,” she emphasized, “is everything okay? nurse mccall said you had to handle something.”

everything was no okay. stiles had watched derek kill boyd just hours ago. luckily, they’d saved dr. deaton, and found a few more clues that would surely lead them to the serial killer rampaging their town.

but his classmate- his friend- was dead. and he watched it all happen. he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

but, e couldn’t tell her that.

though, she noticed a shift in his voice, “yeah, just something stupid. scott was having girl problems.”

y/n didn’t believe him.

she was noticing more and more that he was always disappearing, running off to do stuff that he wouldn’t tell her about. his cover stories never made much sense, either.

the thought that he was keeping secrets from her made y/n feel wary, made her want to pull away.

but, then he’d say something like, “i’m more worried about you, baby.”

and she was easily pulled back in.

“don’t,” she murmured. her eyes fell all the way shut. she was drifting off to sleep, the sound of his voice a sweet lullaby to her ears.

stiles smiled to himself. he imagined holding her in his arms, brushing the hair from her face as he watched her fall into a beautiful slumber. it comforted him.

but, when he focused his mind again, he was back in the cold, dark animal shelter, which was barren of any good feelings like the ones he could only day dream of for now.

he thought about telling her, again. but after what happened today, he wasn’t feeling very confident about it. he really, really could not lose her.

he just couldn’t.

“you should get to sleep,” stiles spoke.

scott motioned for him. so, stiles added, “i have to get going.”

“i miss you.” y/n was half asleep, completely unconscious to any words falling off her tongue.

stiles’ smiled again. “i miss you, too. hey, i’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? maybe we can watch the next scream.”

she didn’t have the energy to respond.

“you there, y/n?”

no response.

stiles figured she was asleep. “well, since you’re not there, i guess i can say…i really like you.”

y/n heard.

and she’d never tell.

she liked him, too.

but, what secrets was he keeping from her?

#derek x stiles #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles x lydia #stiles x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf x reader

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bywandandsword · 8 months

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Current brainworm, none of the Celtic cultures' creation myths have survived, even though they almost certainly had one. The closest we have is the Lebor Gabala Erenn from Irish mythology, but it isn't a creation story, it records the various settlements of Ireland, ending in the Gaels. However, it is thought that there are reflections of an earlier creation myth in the LGE and in the Tain, and there are similar themes that validate that the Gaels at least viewed the creation of the landscape in this way from various other stories. Additionally, we can compare other Indo-European creation myths to figure out what elements the Gaelic creation myth almost certainly would have had. These include:

Before creation, there is a void of some kind

In that void, fire interacts with water/ice to create the first life

A primordial bovine, most likely a cow (bulls were more common in IE cultures that emphasized pastoralism over crops. The Romans had a she-wolf, because they had to be edge lords)

One primordial being or possibly a set of twins who are sustained by the milk of the cow

One of the twins/the primordial being is dismembered to create the physical world

So already we have the makings of a general creation story, and if you're familiar with Norse mythologies, you might recognize it. In fact, it's thought that the Norse creation myth has retained the most elements of the original IE myth

However, scholars point out that the primordial being that is killed is called *Yemo, meaning "twin", which means there was likely originally two first beings. In the one sacrificing the other, the act renders the brother doing the sacrificing as the First Priest, who creates the concept of death, but in doing so turns that death into the living world. The sacrificed brother is then typically rendered as the First King and Ruler of the Land of the Dead. By setting up this order for the world, the First Priest establishes that life cannot exist without death (whether it be harvesting crops or butchering livestock), and typically, these myths continue and establish the role of the priests in society, who's job it is to ensure the continuity of the original sacrifice and maintain the living world

Now, here's where we get into my speculation;

I think it's likely that the Irish creation myth involved a set of twins. Off the top of my head, I think that possible reflections of this can be found in the brothers Amergin and Donn and in the Donn Cuailnge and Finnbhennach from the Táin. With Amergin and Donn, Donn insults the goddess of the land and is drowned. In doing so, Donn becomes a god of the dead and all the souls of the dead have to gather at or pass through Tech Duinn. Amergin however, secures the support of these goddesses and is able to go on and give order to the Gaelic rule of Ireland by deciding who will rule what and serves as the Chief Ollam (bard) of Ireland. In the Táin, after the main Plot has gone down, the Donn Cuailnge and Finnbhennach fight and the the Donn Cuailnge ends up killing Finnbhennach. As the Donn Cuailnge passes through the landscape, pieces of Finnbhennach drop off his horns and form/name part of the landscape. I think it's also interesting how in both these stories, one of the duo is explicitly associated with the color white (Amergin is called "white knees") and the other one is dark, but the opposite one dies first in the stories

Also, if we look at myths like the creation of the Shannon and the Boyne rivers, where in the goddesses Sionnan and Boann, respectively, die in the rivers' creations, we further see that the death of one figure to create an element of the landscape is a relatively common one, so a creation story similar to the one I hypothesize the Irish had wouldn't have been outside of pagan Irish belief

Additionally, if we look at the duíle, kind of like the Irish elements/natural features, we see that the nine elements/features are each explicitly associated with body parts. Stone is associated with bones, the sea with blood, the face with the sun, ect. I think this could be a call back to that earlier creation myth

Off the top of my head, that's what I've been mulling over. Idk, I might be completely off the mark, but if anyone wants give their thoughts, I'd love to hear them. I'm certainly not an expert in Irish mythology and there may be some key factor that completely sinks this idea

#Sword speaks #Irish mythology #Irish pagan #Irish polytheist #Celtic pagan #Celtic polytheist #creation myth #idk man my brain has been like a dog with a bone with this for days and I'm curious what others might think

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