#she lacks empathy so much i cant;-; | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

overnowsfcb · 5 months

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worth it for once; pedri

summary: sometimes the show must not go on. what happens when the curtains fall?

warnings: angst, smut (dom!pedri, pool sex, hickey, blow job (v), masturbation and self-masturbation (p), pet names) mature language, abuse of alcohol, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional distress. if any of these topics makes you uncomfortable, i advise against reading this story.

word count: 5.9k

note: hi! first of all i wanted to thank everyone who interacted with 'halfway out the door', you don't even know how much it means to me that people can read my stories. i knew i said i would do some fluff, but i feel like im not good at it. i cant seem to let the reader be happy can i? (this fic is so long i feel like i got a bit carried away)

p.s.: this is my first time ever writing smut, im sorry if its too bad. also! 'halfway out the door' has ninety percent of possibility to have a second part.

p.s. 2: the party ended an hour ago and he still there. another thing that i wanted to say is that FOR ME 'slut!' is not a love song so that is my reason for this, i take my interpretation of the song and write it down — venus 🫂💐🫧

The sun's rays slipped through the white curtain covering the partially open window, letting in the morning breeze. You nestled in the sheets, still drowsy, but as you did, you snapped wide awake, realizing once again that Pedri wasn't by your side.

You turned over, hoping it was a dream, but the only remnants of him in the room were his lingering scent and memories of the night before, replaying in your mind.

The way he touched you, tracing each of the invisible scars left by your previous lovers who sought only their own pleasure, using you to their liking without paying attention to your desires.

He was different. His kisses felt like a religious experience, filling you with an ever-growing sense of fulfillment. Nothing wrapped around you more securely than the feeling of having him inside of you, merging under the lustful gaze of the moon that welcomed you on a tailor-made altar, adorned with soft sheets and sensations that turned into a celestial orchestra.

And although the next day, perhaps his flaws became evident, your infatuation took you beyond, closing the curtain of the stage within your mind; you didn't have to be displeased or critical when admiring a work of art, right?

When the strength left from the previous night was regained under pressure, and your mind returned to the frosty present, you sat up in bed, feeling your head heavy, needing to blink several times to clear the blurriness that clouded your eyes due to sleep.

Your feet rested on the wooden floor. You didn’t want to face another day with the pain of the mandatory conviction your heart held towards your mind, aiming it with a gun if it tried to move from there.

You sighed with closed eyes and gathered your clothes scattered around the room. When you finished dressing, you approached the window and inhaled a breath of air to refresh your thoughts.

You left your room; the squeak of the door echoed through the house, signaling to Elena that you had already woken up. You couldn't lie; you were afraid to face her.

She, your best friend since you desperately looked for someone to share an apartment with after the owners of your previous apartment unjustly left you out in the cold.

She, who warmly welcomed you full of empathy and commiseration, helped you deal with the storm by receiving you in a studio apartment with an air mattress. She became the person you adored most in the whole world and never lacked frankness in her words.

Both of you moved forward together; now, you succeeded in modeling, and you could search for something much more comfortable living now in a pent-house, but always side by side.

You arrived at the spacious kitchen connected to the dining room and were met with an exquisite aroma, akin to the dishes she professionally prepared. You tied your hair in a ponytail and moved the chair to sit facing the counter.

Crossed fingers and your chin resting on your hands, you noticed she expected your presence when she twisted her torso, leaving a plate with toast and homemade raspberry jam on the marble counter in front of you.

You waited a moment to grab one of the perfectly made toasts and spread the jam in the toast; you felt the tension in the air. You knew of her disapproving stance regarding your situation with Pedri, and you knew she was preparing the usual sermon.

"Want to say something about it?" It was as if she had read your mind; turning her back, you sat up straighter on the stool, your distressed chest making your heart pump more blood than usual.

"No," you replied dryly, as you took a bite of toast.

"Alright, then it'll be up to me." You felt fear travel up your spine to the buzzing in your head and a high-pitched tone ringing in your ears.

You tried to breathe normally, but it was impossible. Her actions guided your eyes; she put the angel food cake in the oven and turned around, sitting on the stool in front of you, looking at you incredulously.

"He left at seven in the morning. When was the last time he stayed the following morning with you? I know you don't want to hear this, and I understand that you're into him. But don't let that blind you from what's really happening here. You're too intelligent for this, too good for someone who treats you like an option." Her words were always harsh, and she never hesitated to tell you the bleak truth without flinching. But it wasn't what you needed now, and her words were insignificant in front of the formidable figure that Pedri occupied in your mind.

There were very few people who dared to challenge your perspective, and Elena was brave enough to do it, even though her attempts always ended in defeats.

And defeats consisted in your denial, where you decided to take off your glasses after seeing what was there. You knew it existed and acknowledged it deep down, but hearing someone throw out statements so lightly without knowing him in the homely intimacy where he could unfold without prejudices, was something only you could discover.

The 'Open Sesame' didn't work with all tones, and not everyone acquired the privilege of opening such a treasure. So, you assumed it was envy.

"Maybe it’s a mess, maybe it’s complicated, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a damn!" Your voice began to rise in volume the more anger you vented at her, who was innocent of it all. You noticed her furrowed brow, her attempts to help, every time she threw you a lifeline, you chose to ignore it, believing you could swim the remaining yards to shore alone.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to find a balance, but your aggressiveness seemed to have reached its peak.

"I’ll sort it out myself, alright?" You exhaled, continuing your defense. "So just back off, Ele. I’m sick of needing your approval for everything. I’ll make my choices, even if they’re not in your rulebook." You spoke with a passive-aggressive tone. "You think you know him? You have no clue, none whatsoever." You got up from your seat, giving the countertop a light tap, and shook your head indignantly.

"I just want what's best for you, y/n," She whispered, looking you in the eyes with honesty. You headed towards the door disappearing from her sight.

You knew that she wanted to protect you like she did from the very first moment.

Despite being your age, she showed herself to be more mature than you. You were like her baby chick, and she had the instinct to keep you under her wings, but she had to admit that you had to learn defense by yourself.

And sometimes you need to fail to build your path.

There was no better remedy in your routine than drowning yourself in work to stop thinking about all the dilemmas surrounding your life. At least for a few hours.

Growing within the fashion industry was difficult without contacts; if you wanted to achieve something, you had to consider the hurdles you might carry in your backpack. But your resilience and pride prevented anyone else, terrified of having a future of subordination, from winning.

Today's meetings were about agreements for your brand, a dream that grew with you from your mom reading you bedtime stories to the present day.

You had put so much effort and creativity into your project that, regardless of what happened externally, your priority would always be there. No affair or argument could steer you away from that.

All your distractions due to logical thoughts vanished upon arriving at your apartment. You turned on the lights; Elena had left you a message informing you that she would stay at her boyfriend's house for the night.

Your home felt empty without her blasting music through the speakers and constant movements around the house. You cracked your neck, leaving your faux leather coat on the entryway rack. You lazily tossed your bag onto the couch, sitting beside it. You unbuckled your heels, freeing your feet.

A contained sigh escaped your nostrils, easing your chest a bit. You heard thousands of notifications coming from your bag. Worried, you unzipped it and searched for the phone, unsure of what was happening.

You glanced at the news headlines and the numerous social media posts where you were being tagged. You thought you had successfully escaped last time. The carefully revised alibi by both managers to divert media attention from your relationship had been futile.

But it seemed not entirely effective; without any evidence or concrete proof, just a blurry and deficient photo was enough for them to create a compelling scene for the public.

You clicked on a specific article; its name caught your attention, "The New Target of Love: The Boy in Her Chaos - Will He Survive?" You knew it wasn't the smartest decision you could make; the echoes of the voices of the people closest to you resonated in your ears. But you were alone and had nothing better to do at that moment.

The devil on your right shoulder encouraged and forced you to keep reading; with each sentence and word, your tear ducts were ready to expel the salty drops from your eyes.

You couldn't understand why journalists consistently targeted your romantic relationships instead of focusing on your professional endeavors, where you worked, and strived every day to show the world that you were more than just a pretty face. But in a sexist world, you had to accept without a murmur the things they wrote without any pity, driven by money and interactions.

Had you signed up for this life, or was it something gradually inserted into your brain about what it had to be?

You found yourself seated at your computer with a bottle of wine by your side, seemingly engrossed in reading each of the articles criticizing you and perpetuating a negative reputation of yourself.

You had poured a small amount of the burgundy liquid into your glass. Some sort of masochism consumed you, and without noticing, you began to pour more and more wine into the glass, your heart filling with misery, pausing at every clever word that defined your identity on the internet. Because all of the words seemed monotone.

Until the glass was no longer enough to swallow the bitter pill, you stared at the bottle, contemplating your next move. You shrugged and reached for the bottle with difficulty, your vision truly distorted, no longer having a sense of space.

You leaned back in the couch and took a long swig that burned your throat, feeling your heart rate rise.

You decided you had gone too far, abruptly leaving the computer on the table in front of you. When you tried to get up, you fell backward by inertia, unbalanced. That's when you realized you weren't even paying attention to the news but mindlessly scrolling your mouse.

The tears you had been holding back for over an hour and a half streamed down your cheeks immediately. Now, you couldn't turn back and felt trapped within your own uncontrollable body.

Gut-wrenching sobs made your body tremble, and at that moment, all you could think of was his touch, how every time you cried, he carefully wiped your cheeks and assured you that this too shall pass.

With tears and alcohol blurring your vision, it wasn't hard to find his number as you had it pinned in your messaging app. You opened his chat and immediately tapped the call icon.

You placed your phone to your ear, hearing the beeps from the other end, while your body, consumed by sorrow, couldn't help but continue shedding tears.

You perceived a noticeable change from silence to a clear indication that the call had been answered. You tried to stifle your crying by biting your lip, but it seemed this battle wouldn't let you emerge victorious.

"Love, are you crying?" You wanted to respond, but his voice only intensified your desire to cry; you longed to feel his warmth. You still didn't understand why you decided to go this far. "y/n, I'm worried. Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?" You tried to take a deep breath to provide an answer.

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and then placed it on your chest, trying to assist in the calming process. "It's so exhausting." These were the words that came out of your mouth as you exhaled.

He still didn't understand exactly what you were talking about, but you kept talking. "I think I can't be with you anymore." Your voice came out strained; you truly didn't want to say those words. You clung to the arm of the chair with one hand, squeezing it, waiting to hear the response on the other side.

"What?" He couldn't comprehend how he had woken up at two in the morning, and you were talking about cutting ties. "Love, listen to me. Why don't you go to sleep, and tomorrow, we spend the day at the country house?" On the other end of the line, he easily realized the moment he picked up that you were drunk.

"Okay." You affirmed with a nod, resting your head on the armrest, and lifting your feet to stretch out on the sofa. "I love you a lot." Your face contracted again, a sign that tears would return.

"You too." He replied, and you were the one who ended the call, slightly calmer about the reflections the articles had left and the incoherent thoughts that had arisen from them.

You left the phone by your side and curled up, hugging yourself, seeking warmth without the help of a blanket. You closed your eyes, praying that the world would change radically tomorrow, although you knew it was an unlikely hope. You never wished more than for whoever was in the sky to give you a new chance to love in the right way.

You needed to believe in someone; you needed assistance from the universe to not lose the hope that once brought you immense joy. But perhaps genuine love was like Santa Claus, and sooner or later, it would crumble like any other ingenious belief.

And like a shrewd child who receives his Christmas gifts with the same enthusiasm even after learning the hidden truth, you dipped your feet into the transparent chlorinated water.

He watched each of your movements attentively, leaning on one of the pool edges. You plunged, soaking your entire body, and swam towards his direction, resurfacing enveloped in laughter with him.

He embraced you, sharing some of his warmth to your cold body due to the sudden change in the water, and you placed your hands around his waist, looking up at him from his chest.

"I love you so much." You bit your lip, seeking an outlet for your love. He rested his hands on your cheeks and began planting short kisses that spread across your entire face.

"I love you more." He reciprocated, giving two gentle taps on your legs. You jumped, and he took you into his arms grabbing your ass.

Quickly, he changed his position, leaving your back resting on the cold pool wall. The chills went up through your spinal cord, fusing the temperature of the edge and its expression, which never went out of style to make you think that everything you needed was there, with him.

You ran his sculpted shoulders with your palms open, feeling his muscles and intertwined your fingers behind his neck, brushing his hair.

Your lips brushed, and you could feel the electricity that could arise from a simple and minimal contact.

He brought his face to you, holding you tight against the concrete.

It was undeniable the indissoluble bond tied by the threads that led you each time to the same situation, and the core of your life was nourished by its bond.

As your lips collided with fervor, eager to quell the fervent passion, you pulled him closer with your legs still entwined around his waist. Feeling his hardness against your core ignited arousal as he pressed himself firmly, and both of you gasped in the midst of the kiss at the electrifying contact.

Your lips didn't want to part, too hungry for each other's sweet taste. You caught his lower lip between your teeth, pulling it gently to invite your tongue into his mouth. It had become sloppy as you lightly tugged his hair, eliciting a groan.

His hand stealthily ascended, never parting from your lips, traveling from your ass to the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

His tender lips traced a pattern from your cheeks to your neck. You tilted your head back, offering more of your skin for his exploration.

Expertly, his fingers unraveled the straps of your bikini with a single pull, still nestled in your neck. As the air grazed your tightened nipples, your breath hitched when he took one between his fingers, fidgeting and further intensifying the sensation.

Your sensitive boobs elicited desperate whimpers as he continued grinding against you, creating a symphony of pleasure. The air thickened, and your bodies radiated heat.

His lips passionately suctioned a spot, causing your eyes to roll. You were well aware that he would leave a hickey there.

Moving from your neck, his lips trailed down to your collarbone. Frustration built as he skillfully teased the sides of your breasts, deliberately avoiding the attention where you craved it most.

"Pedri, please..." You gently tugged his strands, prompting him to lift his head. Counterfeit innocence gleamed in his pupils.

"What do you need, amor? Tell me, is there something I can do for you?" His gentle caress graced your cheek, and you melted into his simmering touch.

"Please..." He ceased grinding, his hand swiftly traversing to your neck, as your hand descended, grazing his abs.

"If only you could see this beautiful hickey right now," He whispered, tracing the mark and toying with you, his actions inviting your response as he often did.

It was exasperating; no matter how frequently you found yourself in such moments with him, articulating your desires remained a challenge.

"Just do something," you uttered, a touch of despondency in your voice, pouting with pleading eyes. Yet, he remained resolute.

"I just don't know what you want." He shook his head, gently placing a strand of hair behind your ear, mimicking your pout with a teasing tone.

"Alright... just please, babe, suck my tits," you replied with a hint of frustration. His corners lifted, forming a smile, having successfully achieved his goal.

"There she is, that's my good girl, aren't you?" You couldn't help but nod several times steadfastily, just wanting him to stop playing.

His face vanished from your sight as he covered one of your breasts with his mouth. A loud moan escaped your throat, a sound of satisfaction for him as he moved his tongue, savoring your skin. "Was it that difficult?" He gazed at you once more, and you sighed in irritation, prompting him to raise his eyebrows, questioning your actions.

"No." Your fingers traced his chest as he continued sucking with determination.

Moving lower, you reached the edge of the swim trunks' fabric. However, as you did, he pulled away with a frown. "Who said you could touch?" You mirrored his expression confused.

"Last night, you scared me a lot. Do you think it was funny for me? No, so you can't decide who's having fun, okay?" Your chest felt heavy, yet you found a strange allure in his dominant low voice, even though you wanted to object.

"I thought..." He wrapped his hand around your neck, pulling you back and shutting your mouth with his thumb. He watched as you sucked it, humming and biting his plump lips.

"You didn't think shit. Now, jump." He firmly gripped your hips, lifting you effortlessly to the pool's edge. Seated, you patiently awaited his guidance, uncertainty accelerating your heartbeat.

Intense eye contact heightened the tension. His fingers delicately traced over your thighs, starting from the outer part, then gently grazing your clothed intimacy. He devoured you with his gaze.

"Lean back for me, baby." You did as he pleased leaning in your elbows.

He tapped on your thighs, a signal to lift your hips, and he removed the sole fabric covering your body and throwing it to your side. He took your legs and placing them over his shoulders. Spreading you open. A groan escaped him at the sight, reveling in your arousal.

"So wet, just for me," he murmured, running his fingers through your folds, collecting your juices and parting your lips to spread the liquids.

You pressed closer, yearning for more. "Just for you." Suddenly, a firm spank on your sensitive area made you shudder, and you gasped. "Behave," he commanded, throwing you a dominant look.

Circling your clit, he gradually increased the pace. Tilted back, moans escaped uncontrollably. Another spank followed, and you met his gaze. "Keep your eyes on me, princess. Watch as I pleasure you like no one else could."

His words wielded a powerful influence in every scenario. Returning to your pussy, he made his way to slip two fingers inside you easily as you were soaked by now. The reflex to close your eyes surfaced, but his commanding words echoed in your mind.

He initiated a rhythmic motion, penetrating and withdrawing, targeting your most sensitive depths, obscene wet sounds, thumb still teasing your bud. Overwhelmed by the intensity, you sought stability, bringing your index finger to your mouth, biting down to anchor yourself. "You can grab my hair, baby," he suggested, prompting a satisfying sigh as you obediently followed his directive.

As the synchronization of your movements intensified, he decided to elevate the pleasure further. His mouth joined the sensual dance, lasciviously spitting your core, eliciting a contented hum from you.

As his mouth drew near your clit, enveloping it ably, a scream escaped your lips, worthy of a scene of a pornographic film. His name slipped through your mouth, an inadvertent encouragement that fueled his tenacity to excel, delve deeper, move faster, and render you numb in ecstasy.

In the intimacy, he displayed a reflection of his approach on the field, always seeking ways to enhance and achieve peak performance, a relentless pursuit of reaching his full potential at what he knew he was one of the bests, even when he didn't want to admit it.

There was no sweeter melody than your filthy moans. His crotch throbbed aching, aware that just a few pumps would make him reach his climax. But he needed to focus on you first, even though he rolled his hips against the concrete, trying to calm down his needs.

He groaned, shutting his eyes and digging his tongue into your hole. Your legs entwined around his neck, the tight knot of pleasure building as you moved your hips in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue.

"Pedri, I'm..." You shouted, the words hanging in the air unfinished, as he entered both, fingers with tongue, increasing the pace with each successive motion.

He opened his eyes again, locking onto yours, brimming with passion beneath the sun. His nose brushing against your clit, combined with his bambi-like eyes in contrast to the authority he held over you, escalate the moment as you tightly grasped his hair, evoking the release of your juices.

He couldn't help but stop pressing against the wall and squeeze his shaft inescapably, captivated by the way you adhered to what he said, even if it meant he had to assert control with a firm hand, correcting your inclination to lean back a few times.

He loved how obedient you were and how your body reacted.

Your high-pitched sounds spurred him to slip his hand inside his swim trunks, almost moaning at the sensations created by his own touch and the enticing arch of your back. He found himself immersed in the sweet taste and intoxicating fragrance that surrounded him.

He went up and down with his hand on his dick fervently, trembling in sync with you. "Are you going to come, my love? Do it for me," his deep voice making you feel so close. You played with one of your hardened nipples between your fingers. You affirmed with the other hand on his hair, and he hummed against you in response. "Oh, my god." you mumbled.

His vibrations heightened your euphoria, and the combination of his tongue and fingers left you feeling overstimulated. As you screamed arching your back, you became undone, laying flat, straightening your arms at your side and shuddering as you felt him persisting in his ministrations.

Too blind to reach his own pleasure to think about anything else, he continued pounding his dick, gripping his tip as he parted his lips, releasing ecstatic sounds and feeling the reverberations across his body. Leaning against your abdomen, he sensed his shots filling his shorts as he lowered his pace.

You tenderly ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, both basking in the tranquility of the moment as his chest rose and fell. Minds empty.

"Come here, baby," you whispered. He propelled himself up from the water and leaned flat at your side.

As you lay down on the cold poolside with him, he placed his hand on your waist, burying his head in your neck. He rubbed his nose, sensing how your perfume delicately mixed with expelled pheromones, obtaining a small giggle from you.

You swung your leg over his waist, leaning your chest towards him, and stroked his wet hair.

"Thank you," you smiled with closed eyes, sighing. "It's just what I needed."

"I like hearing that," he said, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. You looked like a fallen angel with your smudged mascara, swollen lips, tired eyes, and blush spreading across your cheeks.

His gaze instinctively dropped to your neck, observing the love mark on your skin. Though in his mind, he still questioned if this was truly love.

Without delving too much into his thoughts, he gently pecked your lips.

"Pedri..." you sighed, coming down from the adrenaline rush. Sitting up, you supported yourself with your hands and looked at him, recalling internet articles and Elena's words.

"Already want to talk about that?" he asked, huddled up, absorbing the remaining sunlight.

"I'm going to shower," you said, rising from the ground, creating a space for anticipation, allowing him to process and reflect. You knew the house perfectly, having visited many times with the understanding that no one could see you and spend the entire day together.

But meaningful memories were scarce, and you clung to them, hoping that someday it could be more than the fear of being seen together, unable to go to a restaurant or travel together.

You entered the shower, letting the cold water make you reconsider your beliefs. You trusted that, for the first time, you had found something real, a gentleman who stood out in the world of ordinary men, wanting to keep you safe.

You also trusted that you would walk on nails and endure all the thorns of a rose just to be with him. But genuinely, love should be about facing painful situations to prove love for a person, or love should feel welcoming, a place where you would stay for eternity if it had to be so?

You analyzed it, the rain falling on you as you cleaned your body. You wouldn't stay with Pedri; he never felt like a place where you could unload all your baggage without fear.

After all, coming from past relationships, he was your sanctuary at first, stemming from more deficient and unstable experiences. You couldn't stop the solitary tear that escaped your eye.

Since the night you met, you should have realized that nothing good could come from something that was supposed to be just for a night. But you didn't want to listen.

You left the shower, unable to continue ruminating in your head without fainting in the attempt. The drops that weren't allowed to fall from your tear ducts were released by your hair.

You grabbed your clothes, still absorbed in your thoughts. When you finished dressing, you placed your hand on the doorknob. Behind it lay the definition of the future of this strange relationship, and the confrontation was something that terrified you.

You walked into the living room to find him seated, wrestling with his thoughts, head bowed, facing away. Approaching him, you crossed your arms in front of his neck and hugged him, taking in his freshly scented and the slight dampness of his hair. He looked at you wearily, unsure of what would happen, and you gave him a kiss on the cheek before sitting next to him on the gray sofa.

You took his hand with love; you couldn't deny that, despite everything, he had been the source of most of your joys in the last four months. You took a deep breath before letting it out and started speaking.

"Are you mine?" His hand tensed, and his brow furrowed. He didn't understand where such a sudden question came from.

"What?" He responded confused, almost pulling away from you.

"Are you mine or not?" You still hoped for a more certain answer.

"I don't understand where your question is coming from." His expression showed he had never really thought about something like that. At least, was there some kind of feeling for you in his heart? You wondered which person you had been with all this time.

"Just answer it." You let go of his hand; your voice carried a tone of desperation and anguish. You knew you wouldn't get anywhere, but you still needed to cling to the few hopes that remained.

"I don't understand what you mean by 'yours'; we never talked about..." He tried to make another excuse in front of your eyes. It felt as if he were treating you like a little girl, who would eventually leave the question unanswered once she got tired.

"I need to know where we stand! Do you want to be with me or not?" You no longer knew why you kept trying about something that wouldn't change. You stood up from the sofa, and he avoided looking at you.

"Why do you have to make it so complicated? We're just having fun." He shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. That response could have been worse than a straightforward no.

"Having fun? Do you think I'm with you to have fun with how the media calls me a slut, Pedro?" You shook your head in disbelief, letting out a bitter, pained laugh. "Four months enduring your ambiguities while defending you in front of my friends, saying you needed time." Your voice faltered, recalling all the arguments you had faced, thinking that at some point, everything would change.

"I didn't think you felt that way." He detached himself from his actions, as if it were so simple. Still avoiding eye contact.

"You said you loved me! Did you ever feel genuine love for me?" Your heart tightened; all this couldn't be a big lie where you were the only one playing a game that was already resolved.

"I don't know." He whispered, unsure of how you would react to such an unsure yet determinant answer. Your eyes blurred with contained tears; you couldn't cry like this in front of him.

"You knew everything you were doing; you knew that I was yours, and you didn't care." You screamed, desperate for him to show some emotion, to show that something of everything you had experienced had a hint of reality.

"It wasn't like that." He replied in the same flat tone, this time looking at you and realizing the tears that were falling, while you were motionless, feeling the room spin around you, and your ears ringing again.

"It was exactly like that." You had been sincere from your first conversation, under that neon light on a private yacht. A party where you didn't want to be, he approached you for that simple reason; you were the only girl who hadn't looked at him.

And you had found someone whom you thought had the will and power to heal all your wounds. But you ended up dancing with shadows in glass, with something ephemeral that you thought could be eternal. While you ended up being one of the many prey in his history.

"I gave you everything, I told you about my past and how I needed someone to trust, and you ended up being like everyone else." You released a silent sob and headed towards the room, where you had left your backpack. You were supposed to spend a weekend together, and now everything was withered. Your feigned acts of believing that magic still existed were in vain.

"Where are you going?" You gasped, bumping into him in the door frame; he placed his hands on your shoulders, concerned.

"I called Elena; she'll come to pick me up." You hadn't even talked to your best friend when you sneaked away with Pedri at noon; she would do everything to stop you from leaving, and you preferred not to tell her. But she, without hesitation, as soon as you asked, was already on her way.

"We can try to fix it." You knew he was only offering the response your ears craved. But you weren't going to fall for his spells. This time, his method of still having your strings to manipulate you like a puppet wouldn't work.

"I won't be with someone who never cared about me." You walked to the door, lowering the latch, and turned around once more; he looked at you from a considerable distance. He wasn't going to try to stop you, and that was what hurt the most. "Good luck, Pedro."

You left the house, and the evening air enveloped you. You walked along the walkway made of rocks, each step feeling heavier than the last. Another relationship failing, another person disappointing and discarding you like a crumpled note, forgotten in the margins of a story that never reached its intended conclusion.

Your tears flowed freely down your cheeks now that you weren't facing him. You stood on the street, waiting for Elena to arrive. She had every right to tell you 'I told you so,' and she would be justified.

You saw her black car approaching from the end of the street, parking right in front of you. You hesitated for a moment to get in, embarrassed to ignore someone who only sought your happiness.

She rolled down the window, and your eyes locked inviting you in. Opening the door, she extended her arms, offering solace. Tears streamed down your face as you looked for refuge on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Ele." You lifted your head, and she gently wiped away your tears. Shaking her head, she dismissed your apologies.

"I'll always be here by your side. You're the one who needs to learn, but I'll never leave you adrift, okay?" You pouted, and your tears continued to flow.

You both settled back into your seats, stealing glances at the house. A part of you lingered there, and a lump formed in your throat. You sensed that distancing yourself was the only thing that could save you from descending into delirium. Now, you must gather the fragments of your heart once more and rebuild it on your own.

Your eyes went directly to the hickey he had left. You wanted to rip that skin off, not wanting to have him in your memories in any way.

Leaning your head against the window, you wondered what could have been if fame hadn't been the haunting specter in your life. You guessed that you will never actually know.

#pedri x reader #pedri angst #pedri smut #pedri x you #pedri x y/n #football x reader #football imagine #football angst #football smut #pedri imagine

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mysterycitrus · 3 months

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waving emoji,, hi i cant remember if youve already talked about this so sorry if you have😭 but do u have any thoughts on the class separation between steph & tim... bc there are definitely things to be said there (i was talking about this with a friend and they got confused, so to be clear im referring to wealth classes)

talking about steph and tim in relation to class economics is difficult cause the majority of their early and formative appearances were written by chuck dixon (pathological hater of poor people) but id say an underdiscussed point of comparison for them is the same as what separates tim from jason and dick — housing security.

if u have never been homeless, if u have never been housing insecure, if u have never had to rely on a dangerous person for financial security, then i cannot emphasise how difficult and emotionally disturbing a situation it is. ive been homeless, and it ages u decades. it’s terrifying. ur complete lack of control, ur reliance on others who can turn u away — it is such an insurmountable obstacle to overcome for anyone, but especially as a minor with literally no options.

steph doesn’t live in poverty in the classical sense — but she lives in a house with her father’s name on the mortgage. she has no access to support resources to protect her. growing up, that house isn’t safe. her security relies on her father’s ambivalence to her existence. the house relies on her father. she is always at risk. even with other heroes, her community with them is never guaranteed. that fear always stays with u. u are always in fight or flight. u can literally never let ur guard down.

dick experiences something tangentially related — he is removed from his home and placed with bruce. his staying with bruce relies on bruce’s acceptance, which bruce withdraws when he’s fired as robin. bruce is not the same as arthur brown, but the power dynamic is similar. jason is living by himself in the alley before being picked up by bruce. both dick and jason have everything to lose by trusting bruce. is that security ever really there? or will it crumple during the next disagreement, the next argument, the next benched patrol.

to be clear — this isn’t saying that tim has never experienced difficulty with housing and support. lest we forget the literal school shooting, or the fake uncle. but my point is that growing up, tim had a place. he had a guarantee that his parents (no matter how distant) would be there. that dick would be there. by the time of the accident, he was able to find support. jack drake truly loved his son. tim did not fear returning home (until the phone call, obvsly).

there are other points of comparison, but i think people underestimate how much that shit stays with u. ur always doubting everyone’s intentions, no matter how benevolent. if ur left with no options, who can u rely on? poverty is seen as a moral failing, and it’s a reflection on u. everything that happens after is because of that failure. u lack access to support because u are seen as less than. is it any surprise that steph’s writing lacks empathy whereas tim is trusted in ways she isn’t?

#idk if this actually answered ur q sowwy #stephanie brown #tim drake #robin #spoiler #dc comics #the ask and the answer

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whiskehorange · 2 years

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Hey sweetie! I'm in a very bad mental place right now and I would really appreciate a s/o who has a depressive episode, has really low self-esteem, mainly focused on self-harm ( if u don't want to do that sort of stuff it's totally understandable) for Venom(if u want) Morticia & Gomez, Hannibal, Hellboy, Abe, Prince Nauda and maybe Sundrop 🌼 Thank you 🖤

Morticia & Gomez

Both of them loathe the place you're in mentally right now and both try to go about how to talk and approach you without seeming overbearing or overly concerned. It's much hardest for Gomez to do that both they both work together a game plan to really help you out of such a low state

Morticia is much quieter about it, but physically is there the most for you. She's always around and including you in whatever activities or hobbies she's doing and makes sure you always have something to do when she's around. Gomez, on the other hand, worries his head off about you. He tries his best to keep his composure around you and not squeeze you until you pop

Both of them try their best not to be overbearing and pushy when it comes to getting you help or helping you themselves so they give you your space if you need it, but they're always keeping an eye out for you. If you happen to be especially quiet and not with the family both of the calmly look for you to make sure you're alright. They also sort of... baby proof the house but it's nothing noticeable. You're still allowed to use knives when cooking or razors for shaving, but they have their ways of watching out

They take a lot of family time throughout the day to make sure that you're active and not in your room all day, but they give you your space if you really need it. They're an active family and drag you along all the time, even when they just stay in the house

Hannibal

Hannibal almost thrives off of your codependency and the thought of you, of everyone in the world, possibly not being by his side due to your mental health is not an option for him. Or you for that matter. If Hannibal makes up his mind about something it's going to happen. He is particular about how you spend your day quietly and inserts activities and subtle "life" talks throughout your days to hopefully help your thoughts

He has his way with words around you, but is particularly picky about how he talks to you when you confide in him about your urges and depressive, scary thoughts. There isn't another soul in the world he would think about sharing what you've told him, but if push comes to shove he will make sure you get the proper help you need if he can't do it for you (which he doesn't like to accept)

Now... I wouldn't put it past Hannibal to slowly, over the course of many months to drug you with whatever medication he sees fit to help you grow if you're spiraling particularly fast. He will take matters into his own hands, like I've said and certainly nothing is off the table if it comes to helping you better yourself with your consent or not

Thankfully for you, that is a last resort and it will likely get to that point. There is a very slim chance that he cant gaslight girlboss you into avoiding self harm in any way. But he really doesn't give you the time to even think about hurting yourself by how involved he's become in your everyday life since you've confided in him

Hellboy

He's... unsure of how to handle the situation, but does deeply care about your wellbeing. He can't recall a time where he really had to deal with these thoughts himself let alone around someone, he's lacking in the comfort department extremely. Hellboy is blockheaded, but does an oddly good job at remember just about all of the trauma and venting topics you've told him. However his blindness to comfort and empathy lead him to ask a lot of questions in the 'why' department. Why do you feel the need to hurt yourself over that?

It comes off as insensitive, absolutely, but he also doesn't mean to come off that way. There is a hefty part of his heart that needs to know why so that he can fix it, not to invalidate your struggles, God that's the last thing he'd ever want to do. So he lets you talk whenever you need to and take time off whenever you might need him. Over the next few weeks he does eye you down whenever the two of you meet in the morning or in the afternoon after work to make sure your beautiful skin is left unblemished

While he isn't too sure how to handle the burden of your emotions with relative and effective advice, his praise sees no end. There isn't a thing in the world that he could think of that he'd rather have than you and he makes sure you hear it everyday. Even if you didn't particularly do anything that day he's quick to make sure that you know that he's proud that you've made it this far

His favorite praise is to smoother you in hugs and boast about how strong you are, mentally and emotionally. Of course you're down right now but it's a minor setback that he refuses to let continue. At least not while he's around

Abe

Abe is, quiet honestly, no better in the comfort department that Hellboy is, but only because of how nervous he gets trying to explain to you how much he cares for you and your situation. He would 100% comfort and verbally praise you if he could only get the words out in the correct order. He's more likely to formulate his words better if you didn't stand so close to him, only because your depression practically radiates off of your body and he doesn't even have to touch you to know

He's quite confused on the concept of self-harm but knows the how's and why's when it comes to the human mind and mental health. He keeps a lot of the 'distasteful' questions to himself about why you would ever choose to hurt yourself, knowing that what you need is his comfort and validation, which he gives you in many many forms

Now, while Abe can't necessarily cry, he feels the overbearing urge to do something like cry whenever he grazes over your previous scars, if you have them. Especially if they are new, which he demands that he is the one that tends to them. He's a listener when you need him to be and has just about anything you cold imagine to distract yourself with in his library

He loves to teach you just about anything if it means that you're focused on that instead of self-harm. It can be a bit boring... but all you have to do is tell him so and he's got something else for the two of you to do. Of course, this goes without saying that he really pushes hydrotherapy in his own way while you're with him. You can really feel like your negative emotions are floating away from you when you're in the water

Prince Nuada

He's blunt and overbearing. At first. It takes him a bit to get the severity of your situation and things like self-harm in general, especially with the harm being inflicted for the sole purpose of... well pain. Of course he listens to you vent and go on about your trauma but sees everything so narrowly that he thinks that he has the cure for your depression. Boy will that hit him like a brick when being active and doing elf-shit doesn't work for you

Nuada is adamant about making sure that you stay away from hurting yourself even once he's grasped your mental health situation, and he's stern about it too. He's the definition of tough love but does everything in his own power to make sure that you're not alone and isolated, especially after venting to him. Comfort, once again, is not a strong suit for him but he is always physically there for you and will continue to be there for you

If he could somehow physically make you better in an instant he would, it hurts him to see scars, dull or new, on you but looks at you with soft eyes. He wants to scold you but Nuala told him that it won't do anything but add to the tension in your brain, so he doesn't say anything. Most of the time when he comforts you he doesn't say much but instead holds you and looks at you lovingly as you sob or sit there quietly

He's a massive advocate for making sure that you're always with him attending just about anything he's got on his schedule. It's one way for him to keep a heavy eye on you and your health but always a better way for him to spend time with you and get used to being a bit softer with you in the long run. He feels like the time he spends away from you adds to your negative thoughts and will not stand for him aiding in such awful behavior

Sundrop

God, you're a walking hazard to him and there's nothing he can do about it. His inability to make your smiles last and your laughter genuine when you're around him drives him off the walls quite literally. It's a lot to handle, especially when he thinks the correct way to help is to just up his energy and the pitch of his voice, it works for kids so why doesn't it work for you? Of course Sun has a different programming for working with adults but purposeful self-harm is... not quite in his protocol for adults or children

What he is good at though, fittingly, is distracting and first-aid when you need it. Blood and particularly dangerous activities are absolutely banned from the daycare, and that includes you. His job, literally, is to entertain and distract which he fully intends to do with you when you come to him for any type of comfort. He lectures you on safety and playing nice with yourself to hopefully prevent you from continuing to think about self-harm

Thankfully though, Sun is rather calm providing first aid to make sure that he doesn't worsen wounds or cause panic. He can tell that you're already particularly worked up and upset so he tries his best to be as quiet and as delicate as he can when tending to you. His softness carries over into caring for you for a bit but he inevitably slips back into hyper-ness after a while. He tends to sing to you after he cleans you up

While he does insist that you stay with him and the kids for most of the day to keep your mind occupied, he also urges you to explore other areas of the pizza plex from time to time to get out of the stuffy daycare. Of course, please come back soon or he's going to worry to death about you and eventually have a guard locate you and bring you back out of his own paranoia of loosing you

#morticia addams x reader #gomez addams x reader #hannibal x reader #hellboy x reader #abe sapien x reader #prince nuada x readr #sundrop x reader #sun x reader #fnaf #slasher x reader

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tsunael · 2 months

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“… no wounds, nor the presence of any poisonous substances.”

Tsuna stood in the threshold of the sick bay, twirling the rounded gem hanging from her horn’s tip. It was Kan-E-Senna who bid her welcome when she arrived, looking thoroughly out-of-place in Twelveswood furs when surrounded by nothing but heat and sandstone.

The room smelled of death and disinfectant. The siege of Ala Mhigo had left it wanting in supplies, but certainly not in bodies. Tsuna’s expression merely darkened.

“Is he well?” She asked, foregoing the pleasantries of seeing a familiar face.

If Kan-E-Senna was slighted by the lack of manners, she did not show it, instead she merely shook her head on the negative, softly inclining to the prone subject of their musings. “His condition has yet to change,” she said, trailing off as if hesitant to unveil the situation, “... Though, I do not expect it to.”

Meaning: he hadn’t awoken since the collapse. The chirurgeon had advised against moving him so soon until they find the cause, despite the Scion's fervent wish to see him back to The Rising Stones for succor.

Tsuna hinged not on that of which she already knew, but the fact that it would continue.

“Why!?" she barked. "If you know something– tell me! Please.” There would have been a cutting edge to Tsuna’s voice had she not warbled as she said it. The padjal did not deserve her misplaced ire, but she was the only wall she could scream her uncertainty to. “All of these alchemists and chirurgeons– all the testing– what were they all for?”

Kan-e-Senna sighed, soft. “I myself examined Thancred. Reach out as I may, I could not sense in him the spark of life that is his soul.”

Tsuna brought her hands to her chest, curling them in just to hold something as she stared, suddenly breathless. Who could have possibly done such a feat? No mortal of their era held such power-- to pluck a soul from an unwilling body should not be possible. Her mind swam with questions and caveats– what came from her lips instead was denial. “That can't be true.”

The Seedseer’s patience was vast, and her empathy, boundless. “You have inherited A-Towa-Cant’s will. I bid you to seek him out yourself, though I fear you will arrive at the selfsame conclusion.”

Tsuna wanted to protest, to argue she held no such proclivity to aethersight, nor academic knowledge of aetherology, but the moment her thoughts drifted to the padjali man who first gave her the pearlescent stone did it begin to warm her chest. Like a heart’s beat it pulsed strong and true to remind her of what she was.

It moved her to act. She crept to Thancred’s side where he slept, and lowered herself to sit upon the edge of the mattress. The spell began as soon as she lifted her left palm but ilms from his chest. There was a small apology for the intrusion of what she was about to do, and then a familiar warmth began to ripple through her. It reverberated up her spine and spread to her hand, and then she began her search for him.

Aether moved from the earth beneath her boots, out through the tips of her fingers, slowly probing for a sign.

His lungs yet moved with breath, but they filled so shallow that it should not have been enough to sustain him. She closed her eyes to the feeling welling within her, concentrating harder as she rounded his heart. It, too, beat with the rhythm of life, and carried out its biological function of moving the humours as it was designed, but that was all. There was something missing. The spark that Kan-E-Senna spoke of was simply not there.

Before her was a body that was moving on its automated course, nothing more and nothing less. It was a vessel; a husk of a man.

Tsuna’s meditation ended, and she withdrew her aether with a pained gasp. She felt her eyes prick with the emotion settling thickly in her throat. It was just as Kan-E-Senna said, and she hadn't needed a crystal to tell her as much.

“I’m sorry, Seedseer,” Tsuna finally whispered. “I should not have doubted you. Thank you for looking after him.” Tsuna looked first to his folded hands, and then to the padjal at the foot of his sickbed who smiled softly in equal parts brief and rueful.

“I should have come sooner. I’ve been trying to find the time with everything happening when I should have been making time for you-– and for him-–”

“Tsuna, please.” Kan-E-Senna shocked her first with her own name, and then talked her down with all the gentleness reserved for a fretting child. “Although he is stable there is naught else you can do for him now but to carry on. There is still more I need to speak on regarding the nature of his condition, but I believe it is something every Scion that was affected should hear…”

Why the lot of them doubled over with pain, why they heard a voice, and why it was only Thancred succumbed to the call.

The padjal excused herself to make contact with the others, and Tsuna was left with such information and her morbid company. A part of her was glad for it, for the tears and hand wringing were able to begin in earnest without fear of coming apart in front of her esteemed mentor. She took a shivery little breath, cursing the Gods as hot tears escaped her eyes, and carved a wet path down her face. They wetted her lap, and she could do naught to stem the flow.

As much as she hated him, he did not deserve this fate. After all he had done, and more, Nymeia had no reason to spin his thread in such a way. Moreover, the subject he asked to broach with her before the Alliance’s meeting would be left unknown. What had he wanted to speak to her about? She ruminated over a chewed lip. Had he known something?

Thancred looked as if he were asleep– and for all accounts– he was. He was asleep, but he did not dream. Out of three long years of knowing, it was the first time she had seen him vulnerable. It was the first time she was able to look upon him in the way she was meant to.

He looked younger, she noted, when bereft of his customary scowl. The lines on his face had softened, and for once he looked to be his age of thirty and four.

Softly, she sniffled, and reached out her hand again, hesitating on the last ilm. Her fingers curled and retracted in finding the motion improper, for she was not searching for his spark this time but instead to sate her own wonder. Gently, respectfully, she brushed the soft hair from his face, moving to cup the hard line of his jaw.

His skin was as ice– and it was as she feared. She entertained a living corpse. Tsuna took her hand away, burned for her curiosity, to finally leave him to his peace.

She was going to find the thing that was doing this

and she was going to break its heart.

#lmao hi #ooooh my cringe be upon you #he looks like a wet cat and I don't think these came out very well but whatever #I've been thinkin a lot about kan e senna lately because I love her and I remembered she was the one that found out what was wrong #personally I think tsuna should backhand mr. exarch shrimply because She Would Do That and also It Would Be Very Funny #and he'd probably cry about it afterwards-- oh :(#my writing (derogatory)#gpose #ffxiv spoilers

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vampismm · 10 months

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Ticci Toby General Headcanons

(srry its so long i have a lot of thoughts about him... probably will rewrite later

) ---------------------------------------- - toby rogers is a small kid, around 5'6-5'7 with messy, shaggy brown hair and dark brown eyes. his hair is choppy and uneven from having to cut it himself and his eyes lack any true life behind them - to be fair, the guy himself lacks any life in him in general. he lost it all when he destroyed his life and became a proxy - but theres nothing he can do now. he knows this, and he copes hard. in ways that are less than ideal - fighting, outbursts, temper tantrums, drinking, smoking, murder - toby thinks with his fists more than he does his brain. he always has been and always will be a fighter, thats one thing he got from his father for better or for worse - he's just generally an insensitive prick - the kid doesn't care one bit about anybody but himself. its a dog eat dog world, right? every man for himself. - besides the lack of empathy, and the callousness, toby is also a weird kid in all. he crosses lines and disrespects boundaries, and is very vulgar and crude - very loud and immature. just an obnoxious prick - he does what he wants and god forbid anybody tries to assert authority over him - this is why he tends to have issues with tim. he cant stand the thought of some random guy going around acting like he knows him, or telling him what to do - nobody knows toby, not truly. he overshares and he talks a lot, but he doesnt really say much. the kid would rather kick, fight and scream than let anybody close to him - theres not a single soul on earth that toby trusts enough to rely on, in his mind all he has is himself now. especially after everything with his sister. he barely remembers it, but god does it follow him - he was never incredibly close with his sister, they just stuck by each other while dealing with their father. they bonded over the abuse in a subtle, sick way - she would stand up for him while he was being bullied in middle school, not knowing that toby would often instigate the fights. he was a violent kid projecting the violence at home onto kids on the playground - he wasnt just bullied, he was a bully too - to this day, people will often avoid him or feel uncomfortable around him. toby is just an antisocial asshole who pushes people away - despite this, he can be rather friendly at times. he's a very charismatic person when he wants to be and is scarily good at getting people to like him. - its only when they really get to know him that they run for the hills. he's nothing but a wolf in sheeps clothing and he pulls off the "troubled teen" act very well - when it comes to his 'job', he doesn't really follow through in the way he's supposed to - unless of course he's being directly controlled by Him - sometimes toby will wake up in the forest, covered in blood that isnt his and having no recollection of the past week or month - so much time has been taken from him, and so much more - theres not much he can do though. he has a job and He wont let him stop until the boy is useless. then he'll be discarded - until then, toby will continue to destroy himself just like he destroys everything around him. he will continue to be a fighter until he cant anymore. he'll continue to take and ruin lives - because honestly, thats all toby rogers has become and ever will be

#creepypasta #ticci toby #creepypasta fanfic #ticci toby headcanon #ticci toby headcanons #creepypasta headcanons #toby rogers #creepypasta fandom

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myconjecturals · 20 days

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General headcanons for pete and billy sir

im like 2 days late because ive been so busy but fawk yes of course

firstly i alwaysssss give billy prominent eyebags whenever i draw him as Seen Here. i dont think he gets much sleep given all the stuff thats happened to him

hes also a bit chubbier 2 me than he is in canon, i think a stockier build rlly suits him <3

billy is autistic + an rsd haver. obviously. i also think pete is autistic and has bpd. they both have that strand of autism that makes them be really blunt to other people but in separate ways

theyre both bi + aro ^_^ also pete is bigender and goes by he/she 2 me. billay is a he/him but he gets transneutral with it

pete would absolutelyyyyyy be one of those older queer guys who are obsessed with collecting little dolls. like specifically vintage barbies circa 1960-1980 and the like. she would love dropping 500 dollars of company funding on an ebay sale of a small plastic woman

i think billy is similarly a toy lover but hes much more focused on collecting sci-fi/pop culture memorabilia like action figures and lunchboxes and so on. hed be one of those collectors who think having Everything In The Packaging is super important. if you were to touch anything of his in his collection he would kill you on the spot. also he would, realistically speaking, absolutely be a funko pop guy. sorry to have to break that to you We All Have Our Vices

pete has vision issues and cant really see all that well but refuses to get glasses or even contacts he thinks glasses will make him look like a nerd and he doesn’t want to touch his eyes with his fingers. SAD! many such cases

neither of them can cook very well they’ll just eat Whatevers lying around but pete knows how to make good drinks. he loves cocktail more than god

billy would be a big fan of physical comfort. he would love hugs and cuddling and stuff but also he would love Weighted Blanket i think 💆‍♀️ type of autistic guy who needs someone to lay their entire body weight on top of him

pete has low empathy and tends to find difficulty with relating to other people Like A Lot. she also lacks social awareness big time too. she doesn’t like opening up to people a whole lot

billy really enjoys puzzle games. he always struck me as the type of guy to have a gameboy with tetris on it or a rubix cube in his pocket

pete really likes fashion but doesnt want to spend a lot of money on clothes so most of his things are thrifted or bootlegs 😭 this is my explanation for the dumb outfit he always wears because no way did he spend full price on that thing at least i hope not. i hope he didn’t pay full price for Whatever Kind Of Shoes He’s Wearing please god

billy would loveeee doing carpentry and metalwork. i just know this. get this guy in the welding studio and he’ll be in heaven

billy loves wearing button ups with the tacky patterns on them you know the ones.

pete wears makeup but he’s not really all that good at it. his makeup routine consists of like one pink eyeshadow pen that’s probably on its last legs and a really hasty chalky looking eyeliner job but that’s it. sometimes blush but Not Always

also pete has a drawer full of cheap colognes and perfumes. it’s mostly floral stuff but floral in like, a grandma-smelling way yknow

pete likes drag both watching it and partaking in it. look at that man and tell me she doesn’t

also also while i’m on the topic of pete i think he’s a mod 50s enjoyer too…. just makes sense to me because new wave and mod have a lottt of overlap if you think hard enough about it and are as insane as i am as those two movements

ok that’s all i can think of. feel free 2 ask further about any of these i love to talk ✌️

#🧠 my thoughtz

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tremorsmackenzie · 1 year

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i see a lot of talk going around about how the team were terrible to daisy after 5x14 and one person even said that it was basically a darvo situation, and i want to add my opinion to the pile, cause i disagree with that a lot. i also generally have a problem with how people tend to defend their favourite to the absolute while villainizing almost every other character in this discourse. they all deserve equal amounts of empathy.

lets get a few disclaimers out of the way first: from my perspective, what happened wasnt anyones fault, they were all victims in this situation. fitz cant be blamed for having a psychic split, daisy had every right and more to react the way that she did, thats not even a discussion. it was also just absolutely the right decision, fitz wasnt trustworthy anymore after that. he absolutely did care about what he did though, he mentioned how he was scared by how he still thought he did the right thing at least twice. thats not the same thing as being horrified at what he did exactly, but the reasons for his split didnt go away just because it happened, and this is about as close as you can get in this situation i think. i also think his whole " i didnt have a choice" shtick was more about him trying to make sense of what happened rather than trying to deflect blame, because he generally lacks empathy for other people a bit and getting defensive and not considering whether that is appropriate right now is perfectly in character for him (still terrible on his part despite all that though, and this is probably where the darvo thing comes from as far as it concerns him). now:

the way i see the aftermath of that episode is that with everything still happening, coulson gone and possibly (definitley, its hydra) being tortured for intel, the end of the world still fast approaching, and daisy still being convinced its somehow gonna be her fault (especially after having her powers restored), none of them could allow themselves to break right now. and crucially: noone blamed daisy for the way she reacted or attacked her for it. may thought she wasnt ready for coulsons job after literally just being tortured, and she was right about that, that was way too much pressure to put on her after that (despite that, i still think daisy did a good job, but she shouldnt have had to). mack agreed with daisy fully. simmons was definitley not okay anymore after what happened and acted increasingly irrationally. she just watched her husband torture her best friend while being held at gunpoint by a robot he programmed, after which daisy had no time to talk to her and fitz was locked in a cell and disillusioned about who he was. she was essentially alone to deal with the situation.

it doesnt excuse what she did, but i also dont think she wouldve acted the way she did if she was fully sane at that point. i mean, she risked swallowing literal acid because she thought she was invincible due to knowing she makes it past the worlds destruction. before this, she was very, starkly different. those are not the actions of someone whos secretly a sociopath like many regularly accuse her of being, theyre the actions of someone who has been pushed completely past their breaking point. as for yoyo, she lost her goddamn arms and was absolutely convinced that daisys path was going to lead to the entire worlds destruction. and that was what she was mad at daisy about.

this was the entire tragedy of that situation: its not a question of fault. they all acted terribly towards each other, and they all had good reasons for it, even if they were being unfair or vicious. it just happened.

so they all pushed what fitz did aside for the moment to focus on the mission, but its literally the main factor of what drove the team apart for the rest of the season, because daisy was focused on her interpretation of the prophecy and wasnt gonna trust fitz or anything he said anymore, simmons and yoyo were convinced he was right and felt daisy wasnt listening to them, and then they managed to scrape themselves back together as a team, just barely, and saved the world, losing both coulson and fitz in the process. in my headcanon the team patched up most of their differences after 5x22, based on how it ended, flashbacks and mentions from season 6 as well as the team being friendly with each other again, and the fact that this show isnt the kind to just ignore events like this, if things are radically different between seasons its safe to assume that stuff happened off screen, not that the writers were lazy. losing two members of their shared family probably also provided them with some perspective and reminded them of how much they all mean to one another.

and this hit all of them very hard, and they all dealt with it in their own way without involving the others. all of them, not just daisy. mack focused on his job 100%, may and elena helped him, simmons went to space to find fitz and daisy came with her because everything reminded her of coulson and theyre each others best friend. when they all came back together, they had managed to somewhat move on from what happened and probably werent to keen on bringing it up again. i mean we saw how sarge had them all bent out of shape because he had coulsons face. they were not over it. nevermind the fact that they had another alien invasion on their hands at the time.

#agents of shield #season 5 #5x14 #the devil complex #aos meta #fandom critical #daisy johnson #alphonso mackenzie #elena rodriguez #jemma simmons #leo fitz #melinda may #phil coulson #deke shaw

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tpher · 5 months

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Plsss can u drop some random topher headcanons Im begging u

ok!!! these'll mostly be repeats of stuff ive said in the past bc i share every thought i have lmao

-raised by a single dad (not don, but thats his uncle). comically has a new stepmom every other week, he is truly unfazed by that at this point

-speaking of his dad, i feel like he should be like.. an actor? a director/producer? someone who just knows the business and definitely set topher down that path. note that topher has mentioned taking on-camera poise classes where they taught him stuff like proper posture/balance for 5 years. thats likely before td even started airing in-universe, so he wouldnt have been doing that because of chris. and topher wouldve been 11. what 11 year old would voluntarily sign up for something like that

-only child. got his cat chef when he was a kid. chef (cat) will never die *they will live forever *(chef (cat) was never given any pronouns 🤔)

-kinda rich

-doesnt have any friends outside of the show either but he.. doesnt rly notice that? he keeps himself so busy thinking abt his future/career. and when he IS being sociable, he is unaware of his lack of social cues and the fact that no one likes him

-on that note, this boy can fit so much undiagnosed autism in him. on top of what i just mentioned, he struggles w controlling the volume of his voice! hes very loud! even if hes not trying to project it louder. and!!! his obsession w his hair/skincare is equal parts a sensory/texture thing as it is a prettyboy thing. if he cant treat his hair and use tons of lotions on his face he will feel like hes in hell he will want to rip his hair/skin off. also a picky eater for similar reasons

-and this could also fall under the autism of it all but he has very low empathy. this is also likely a byproduct of looking up to chris and becoming desensitized to horrible shit

-hmm i feel he would fail to pick up on sarcasm a lot of the time

-loves wordplay and puns, as per hosting quirks

-we know he is a gay homosexual he knows he is a gay homosexual. but hes also aromantic with fluctuating feelings towards romance (mostly neutral to sometimes positive), but he wouldnt know that until wayyy later on. thinks hes just too busy w other stuff than to waste time w guys that are all way below his standards but doesnt stop to think abt that any further

-OH and chris was his gay awakening. obviously. that fact will haunt him for the rest of his life LOL

-i like the idea of him becoming a youtuber who gains popularity bc of his funny personality, initially bc of his storytimes abt his time on total drama. so hes successful on that front but he'd probably have some minor hosting gigs as well! im thinking like.. when blaineley said she hosted the puppy bachelorette? topher will host the kitty bachelorette. he will host some online awards. he will host the kids choice awards.

#td topher

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t4tails · 2 months

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I’ve mostly read the 80s comics with their original versions, haven’t seen the show, but imo in that, raven comes off as way more autistic than kory.

theyre both equally autistic the episode "switched" is a near perfect metaphor for the differences and similarities between low and hyper empathy autistics. however in the show at least, i cant speak for the comics, starfires lack of ability to understand slang and metaphor, her earnestness and how she stuggles with that are on show for pretty much every single episode that focuses on her, really making her autistic qualities stand out in comparison to raven whos most notable plot surrounds her father, while her qualities that make her relatable to autistic viewers, like her introversion, take a backseat. so personally id say starfire deserves the autism poster child of teen titans 03 label a bit more than raven

tldr dont pit two bad bitches against eachother but in this incredibly specific scenario, just based off the things ive seen, i would still stand by starfire

also i think you could make autism arguments for cyborg robin and bb too. especially robin. i just believe stafires to be very in your face

#og post #ask #anon #if star and raven go against eachother in that bracket i might just kms #oh its also worth noting that ill admit im biased and like starfire more so i talk about raven less LMFAO

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thecozykirin · 2 months

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Day 3 - Myth @daily-writing-challenge

There is a tale in the Valley, as old as the first seed that was planted.

When Pandaria was young and the August Council had just been chosen, Freya walked the soil and admired her work. On her shoulder, she carried a sack full of seeds that she had been scattering throughout the day but it still hung heavy on her shoulder.

However, Freya was not alone on her walk for a pair of small, dark eyes were focused on the burgeoning sack, a hungry rumble in a rib-lined belly spurring the watcher into action. Those focused eyes and rumbling belly belonged to none other than a skinny rat who had one point been white but filth marred his coat to the point where it was nothing but shades of grime.

The hungry rat had trailed Freya during the entirety of her walk, only approaching when she had settled beneath a shady tree to admire her surroundings for a moment and it was within that moment that he made the smallest cut in the linen of the bag, just big enough that bit by bit, a thin trail of seed would fall from it as she walked and the rat gorged himself on what fell from the sack.

Freya had not noticed what the rat had done until the sack felt light enough to catch her attention, she plucked the thief up by his scruff and dropped him within the palm of her hand so she might get a closer look at the culprit.

Rats were typically not very eye-catching creatures to the Titan Keeper, but upon gazing at the defiant rodent in her grasp she realized he had a spark in his eyes that held untold intelligence. The Rat lacked the majesty of Yu'lon, the brightness of Chi-Ji, the claws of Xuen and the strength of Niuzao and yet, he had managed to outwit her and now sat within her palm unblinking where she could easily crush his fragile bones.

"That was a very cunning trick you played on me." Freya smiled though it waned at the sight of his ribcage. "You had to grow clever to survive in your position, mh? Not many creatures know the struggle of one so small…" It then occured to her, that while that was true, a rat would be the one to know the struggle of many creatures.

Freya held the rat aloft and bestowed upon him a name. "I name you Yuchu, the clever and the swift. You shall provide insight where the rest of the council has none and be a voice for the small in these lands."

And it was on that day, the August Council went from four to five.

Xuen represented Strength.

Chi-Ji represented Hope.

Niuzao represented Fortitude.

Yu'lon represented Wisdom.

And Yuchu represented Empathy.

For thousands of years, Yuchu kept to his role as a voice for the little and the bane of the selfish rich. In doing so, he never forgot his mortal roots. As a result, he began to feel rather lonely, for he couldn't help but feel a disconnect between him and the rest of the council. As much as Yu'lon attempted to assuage these thoughts, Yuchu could not help but realize they were all much grander than he..With that grandness came a great deal more of reverance. However, Yuchu cared not to be everyone's favorite, relishing the curses upon his name by wealthy business owners who would not spare a crumb for those beneath them…only to wake up and realize that most of their own crumbs were gone!

One fateful day, when the sun hung high over the Valley, Yuchu paid a visit to the barn of a wealthy rancher with the intent of setting his livestock free as punishment for his cruelty to his workers, when a flash of silver fur caught his eye and the Rat Celestial paused. In one of the hutches sat a rabbit with fur that reminded him of the silver shine of the moon. She sat quietly within her hutch, not seeming to have noticed him until the smitten Celestial approached.

"You there!" Yuchu called out. "What is your name?"

Those soulful gray eyes of hers nearly knocked Yuchu off his paws and the doe canted her head to the side, perplexed by the question. She replied, "Me? Why would a being such as yourself care for the name of such a lowly creature?"

"You, lowly?" Yuchu gaped. "The people who both rejoyce me and curse me would sooner kill me if I were still a regular rat." he continued. "You, my dear, have fur that shine like the moon on a clear night, you are anything but lowly."

The rabbit pondered Yuchu's response before finally, she dipped her head and introduced herself. "Ting-Ting, that is the name my mother gave me, the rancher calls me Bai though."

"Then we will call you by the name your mother gave you." Yuchu looked over his shoulder towards the barn door for a moment. He looked back to her and asked. "Are you happy here?"

Ting-Ting blinked owlishly at the question. "Happy?" She then looked about the spacious hutch. "It is comfortable."

Yuchu scoffed and shook his head. "Comfortable does not equal happy, aren't you ever allowed outside of this box?"

Ting-Ting's ears perked and she nodded rapidly. "Oh, yes. The rancher's daughter will take us all out for an hour or so to silflay in the grass."

"Don't you ever wish you could go out when you want for as long as you wanted? Run through the grass unrestrained and free while tasting the sweet dww off of wild clover?"

Ting-Ting tilted her head back as she imagined such a life. "It does sound very nice…" her voice drew off and for a moment, a look of sadness crossed her face and she shook her head. "But it is not a life for me."

Yuchu canted his head. "And may I ask why not?"

Ting-Ting smiled ruefully at the Celestial. "Because I am a hutch rabbit and my fur and meat will be stripped from my bones soon enough."

Yuchu gasped, horrified! "That's…that's horrible!"

Ting-Ting could only shrug. "It is the way of things."

"But it does not have to be!" Yuchu pointed out. "The way of things of rats is for them to chew and burrow and fall to any of their thousand enemies but look at me? I have stepped outside the way of things." He reached through the wire of the hutch and took her paws in his own. "Everything I told you could be yours." his voice softened. "I have no cage and I can see to it that you don't either."

Ting-Ting sat back on her haunches and thought…the decision was not one to be made lightly but the answer found Ting-Ting swiftly. The next night, her own would lament his prized doe was stolen. Indeed, Ting-Ting was hailed as Yuchu's greatest treasure and she was treated as such. With him, she birthed the Virmen into existence and loved each and every one of them.

From afar, the rest of the August council took note of Yuchu's newly acquired mate.

"He looks so happy…." Yu'lon mused one day, after a small meeting between the five of them was over.

"Indeed." Chi-ji hummed.

"And yet, rabbits are so short lived." Yu'lon frowned, worry seeping into her tone.

"As are all mortals, in one way or another." Xuen added.

"It is important he learns loss." Niuzao added. "Delaying it helps no one, least of all himself."

Yu'lon remained silent, for she knew they were right. The life of an immortal, for all the benefits it held, stood just outside the shadow of death. Never to be touched by it, but doomed to watch all beneath it wither.

Year after year, their love never waned and only grew stronger even as her bones began to ache and her fur began to dull. Eventually it came to the point where Ting-Ting hardly left the warmth of their warren to run with Yuchu, only occasionally leaving to take a leisurely stroll with him.

Yuchu, of course, took note and quipped: "You are growing quite lazy, my love!"

With a chuckle, Ting-Ting replied with a playful nip to his ear. "Not lazy, my dear, old."

Yes, old." Ting-Ting affirmed. "Time catches us all, I'm afraid." Time. A cold chill crept up Yuchu's spine as he came to realize just how drained his mate looked, as though the vitality was seeping from her body bit by bit. That ever looming shadow he lived in fear of before his ascension was mocking him, content to let him watch from its fridges as it took the only thing he had ever loved. But no one had ever taken anything from Yuchu, and he was keen to keep it that way.

Driven by a newfound resolve, Yuchu threw himself into the many tomes he had stole throughout the years, some as old as the founding of Pandaria itself before the reign of the Mogu. Surely, one of them would have a way for him to pluck his mate from the shadow…and indeed, one of them did.

A memory stirred in Yuchu's head, one he had not thought of for quite some time when Zhao Sunseeker was rewarded an elixir of immortality by the August council for shooting down four of Pandaria's five blistering suns. Much to Yuchu's delight, he found he still had the recipe attached to the tome, he need only one ingredient from each of his fellow Celestials. Yuchu called a frantic meeting, where his four seniors listened to him plea with them to save his mate's life. They listened as he spoke of how her fur had grown dull and her bones ached and lungs wheezed whenever she tried to breathe, how all he needed was this elixir to ensure she could stay by his side forever. Though their hearts hurt, their answers cut him like a hot knife through the tail.

"Many of us have taken mortal mates in the past." Xuen began, his voice a low and sympathetic rumble. "Each parting brings such sorrow, but take joy in the fact that the union happened at all. Few mortals are lucky enough to know true love." Yuchu's fur bristled. "None of you have ever wanted to save your mates?! Any of them?!" he shouted.

"Of course we have, Yuchu." Yu'lon spoke up, her voice heavy with sadness and sympathy for the creature she had come to regard as a younger brother. "But death is a shadow that all mortals must walk through. We must let them go when their time comes, as they do with their own loved ones."

"You will have your children to remember her by." Chi-Ji gently added. "And in them, you will find her."

Yuchu, as much as he tried to argue further, was firmly shut down and told that their choice had been made and Ting-Ting's fate decided.

But Yuchu was not content with his mate's fate and sought to change it. If Freya could see potential in a starving rat, who were they to say he could not find potential in a hutch rabbit?

It took many weeks, but Yuchu eventually gathered the ingredients he needed. A chipped claw from Xuen, a scale from Yu'lon, a feather from Chi-Ji, and a tuft of fur from himself and Niuzao. This was all topped off with a bit of water gathered from the sacred pools of the Vale.

Upon completing the potion, Yuchu hurried to where his mate lay. Ting-Ting had managed to find the strength to drag her withered body to the entrance of their burrow, where she had a nice view of the full moon that hung over the Valley and bathed it in soft silver. "My silver!" Yuchu called out as he approached her, potion in his paws. "I've brought something for you." Ting-Ting lifted her head with a tired smile. "Is this what you've been working on so much lately? Your special project?" "A surprise, for you!" Yuchu affirmed. "A surprise for me?" Ting-Ting chuckled. "My dear, you've given me all a doe could ask for. What more is there?" Yuchu settled down next to her and working the cork off. "Something to put the thump back in your back legs, the strength in your paws and the air in your lungs without pain." "Ah, you and your honeyed words..." Ting-Ting rested her head against him, eyes drooped from sleepiness...or was it something else? "Just drink it." Yuchu's shoulders slumped a s he lowered his head to nuzzle it against hers. "I'm sorry it has taken so much of my attention, but I promise…it'll be worth it." Ting-Ting struggled to lift her head. "Would you help me, my love? My neck is so tired…" With gentle paws, Yuchu helped Ting-Ting drink the elixir, quietly praying inside of his head to whoever might be listening that it would work…and his prayers would be answered as his mate was revitalized in a brilliant flash of pure Celestial energy. The color that the years had drained from Ting-Ting's fur was returned, even brighter and more brilliant than the silvery moon that gazed upon them. "I can breathe…" Ting-Ting drew in a long gulp of night air into lungs that no longer wheezed and coughed. Ting-Ting then thumped her foot, bones strong. "I can thump!" And finally, she playfully bumped the side of Yuchu's rear with her own as she took off, shouting out in glee with joints that no longer ached. "I can run!"

Yuchu laughed and joined his mate on her run, and the two raced the entirety of the Valley not once, not twice, but three times over that night!

However, their newfound joy and peace would not remain for long, as the August Council was infuriated by Yuchu's blatant lack of respect for their decisions and with a vote of three to two, Yuchu and his mate were banished not only from the Valley, but all of Pandaria. "The integrity of the council and the protection of Pandaria cannot be compromised by a wayward Celestial who thinks of only his own desires." Niuzao had said.

Yuchu, however, remained obstinate. "I would do it again." he had told the bristling Chi-Ji, Xuen, and Niuzao. "And ten times over too!" Though he meant every word he said and stood by his actions, parting with his admirers and followers were difficult and he and Ting-Ting came to the realization that they could not carry all of their children with them. Some would have to be left behind.

Yu'lon had escorted them to the shore of Turtle Beach, the two wayward wild gods carrying as many of their children as they could upon their bodies as the Jade serpent bid them both a tearful farewell. "Your children will be safe in the Valley." she reassured them before casting her gaze to the mists. "Liu Lang speaks of islands that dot the sea, perhaps you can make a home on one of those?"

Yu'lon had watched the two of them bounce upon the surface of the water until they were but dots on the horizon, and that was the last she ever saw of them.

It was the last any had saw of them.

Not even a year later, Niuzao, Xuen and Chi-Ji came to regret their decision and thus, tried to call Yuchu and his mate back to the mainland but they never answered. Over time, the Virmen in the Valley were driven mad by the loss of their parents, and turned into a nuisance, a blight. Though little evidence is leftover of Yuchu's existence outside of a few stories and shrines that had rotted with age, drunk Anglers often speak of an island tucked away, where Virmen live alongside those cast out from society. Where they revere a silver furred Den-mother and a mischievous flying rat.

#short story #world of warcraft #thecozykirin #daily writing challenge

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