#slash-grain

[celluzu]

occasionally kind of feels like people are just. forgetting that quackity mistreated his employees

[asterkallium]

what is the pale blue dot?

Pale Blue Dot is a photograph of Earth taken on February 14, 1990, by the Voyager 1 space probe from an unprecedented distance of approximately 6 billion kilometers (3.7 billion miles, 40.5 AU), as part of that day's Family Portrait series of images of the Solar System.

In the photograph, Earth's apparent size is less than a pixel; the planet appears as a tiny dot against the vastness of space, among bands of sunlight reflected by the camera. Commissioned by NASA and resulting from the advocacy of astronomer and author Carl Sagan, the photograph was interpreted in Sagan's 1994 book, Pale Blue Dot, as representing humanity's minuscule and ephemeral place amidst the cosmos.

Carl Sagan comments on what he sees as the greater significance of the photograph, writing:

From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it's different. Consider again that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.

Earthrise is a photograph of Earth and part of the Moon's surface that was taken from lunar orbit by astronaut William Anders on December 24, 1968, during the Apollo 8 mission. Fifty years to the day after taking the photo, William Anders observed, "We set out to explore the moon and instead discovered the Earth."

[lynn-tged-posting]

i finally got access to tged webtoon 155 and im losing my.mind . cant quite post abt it rn but my brain is melting

[1pcii]

cant believe sanji did the Barbie movie before barbie

[casper-perry]

Cuddle Buddy

author: lonercat

summary: Silver always falls asleep on top of Ruggie whenever he can. Ruggie thought he could gain something from this.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Habits To Become Your Best Self In 2023

Some habits, routine ideas, and mindset shifts to help make 2023 your best year yet. Hope this helps and inspires you to reach your goals for the next 12 months. Remember to work hard and take care of yourself. Once you put your mind to it, the sky is the limit! xx

Make Your Meals Plant-Based & Produce-Focused: Center your meals around a variety of vegetables, fruits, plant proteins, potatoes, and unprocessed plant-based fats (avocado, nuts, seeds) and minimal whole grains.

Get Creative With Stress Eating Substitutions: Discover healthy swaps for your meals and snacks to ensure what you're eating without sacrificing your goals. Some simple substitutes include mixing in cauliflower rice into your whole grain rice to add nutrients/volume while slashing the calories, using half an avocado with lemon as a salad dressing over spoonfuls of olive oil, swapping meat for lentils in a chill, soups, or stir fry, choosing frozen grapes or whipped bananas with berries over candy or ice cream for a sweet treat, etc. Remember: Spices and seasoning are your best friends.

Be Mindful of Your Beverage Consumption: Consuming enough water is essential. However, if you get bored with water, add some herbal and black tea, black coffee, or fruit-filled water into the mix. Cinnamon, vanilla, and apple or peach teas are great options to satisfy cravings and prevent mindless snacking (not a substitute for food – eat if you're genuinely hungry). For the winter season, try using some pure cocoa powder with hot water, vanilla extract, and a tablespoon or two of plant-based milk for a healthy hot cocoa drink.

Prioritize Long Walks: Carve out 1-2 hours of your day to get 10-12K steps in at least 5 days a week. Go outside if possible or jump on a treadmill/walking pad to get in some movement while watching TV, talking on the phone, or catching up on some emails.

Find A Simple Resistance Workout You Love: Yoga, pilates, or an at-home weight-training or body-weight exercise you can do at home. Browse different YouTube videos for 10-30 minute workouts to try or sign up for a class in your local area to make it a more social experience (and force yourself to take accountability to show up in the first place).

Create Short & Long "Bookend" Routines: Create a simple routine for the beginning and end of the task-filled portion of your day. For most of us, these routines would be done in the morning and evening/at night before and after work, school, or doing chores/errands. Let go of the rigid idea that these routines need to be done at certain times of the day. Set yourself up to win and tailor them to your schedule. Consider these short routines (like drinking a cup of coffee/tea, reading, meditation, journaling, a walk, or a short dancing session) your warm-up and cool-down sessions of the day. Having these rituals to look forward to will give you the energy and motivation to do what you need to get done each day.

Practice This 10-10-10 Mindfulness Practice: Make time for at least 10 pages of reading, 10 minutes of meditation, and 10 minutes of journaling daily (This can include shadow work) either in the morning or nighttime to clear and reset your mindset for the day.

Take An Hour To Plan Out Your Week: It's most convenient to do this power hour on a weekend (I typically reserve an hour before dinner on Sunday for weekly planning). Write out all of your main work tasks, schedule any due date reminders (for work, bills, chores, and other life necessities), must-do errands, emails and calls or appointments to make, etc.). I like using the Productivity Planner from Intelligent Change and my Reminders app/Google calendar via iCloud to sync deadlines and times to schedule messages/tasks/bills, so everything will be in front of me at the correct time throughout the week.

Prioritize 1-3 Tasks Daily: You might need to choose one large project to work on in small chunks or select a "Big 3" for the day, depending on how complex, lengthy, and time-consuming your projects/errands or appointments are for the day. Using this method allows you to be efficient, streamline your life, and feel productive without overwhelming yourself on the regular (the fastest route to burnout).

Make A Life Admin Schedule (and Stick To It): Choose days (and times if possible) of the week to update certain spreadsheets, batch reply to less urgent messages, clean your house, do laundry, grocery shop, etc. Scheduling these tasks ahead of time eliminates half of the battle for following through on what you need to do. Eventually, you will make these tasks into habitual routines that your brain will allow you to execute effortlessly as though you're in autopilot mode.

Mind Your "Circle of Influence": Do an intake on the 5-10 people you speak to the most or value in your life. If you're an employee, it is probably best to not include your boss or coworkers in this consideration list, as you need to work amicably with them regardless of your personal feelings. Look how you feel during your interactions with your friends, family, intimate partner, or an adjacent love interest. Consider how they speak to you, about themselves, and the topics your conversations are focused around. See if they align with the person you want to be and your goals. Evaluate how close you want to be and what parts of your life you think would be the most beneficial for you and the relationship going into 2023.

Set Boundaries: Understand your expectations, non-negotiables, and limits in every area of your life. Communicate these principles to others clearly, so they know when they are overstepping. Don't tolerate disrespect, but also don't expect others to be mind-readers. If someone knows that they're crossing your boundaries, it is easy to draw the line in the sand and walk away without the guilt or shame that can arise when conflicts originate from a lack of healthy communication.

Incorporate One Creative Practice Into Your Week: Reinvigorate your mind by engaging in at least one hour of creative activity per week. Try drawing, creative writing, poetry, singing, dancing, painting, pottery, jewelry making, graphic design, photography, etc. Even taking a foreign language course or creating a Pinterest inspiration/mood board or organizing your home/closets in an aesthetically-pleasing way counts. Figure out what creative outlet(s) you find satisfying. Prioritize scheduling this practice into your schedule weekly.

Refine Your Signature Look: Edit your wardrobe, try out a new haircut, or change up your makeup routine, nail color, or signature scent. Consider how you can close any gaps between your authentic personal style and how you present yourself on a day-to-day basis. Create an inspiration board if needed to help yourself define your unique aesthetic and gradually work towards embodying your ideal look.

Keep A "Praise" Archive: Create a record of all of the messages you receive highlighting your achievements, milestones, recognitions, or compliments. Compile a folder that acts as your "praise" archive for every area of your life. Create a folder in your work email inbox to save all of your professional achievements, praise, and positive contributions. Do the same for your personal email. Create a folder in your photo album of screenshotted texts. Keep a running list on your "Notes" app of any compliments you receive on your conversational contributions, actions, attire, personality, smile, etc. Hyping yourself up to connect to your highest self.

Create A "Siren" Kit: Take note of all of the clothing, scents, songs, cosmetics, phrases, people, and other aspects of your environment that empower you to feel your sexiest. Keep all of these items/songs/texts together to make it simple to set the mood before engaging in some indulgent action or revisit when you need a boost of confidence throughout your week.

Do A Financial Audit: Create an income/expenses spreadsheet to understand your current spending behavior and budgeting plan going forward. Set up your 2023 financial goals and projections, including target amounts for income, savings, and investments.

Give Yourself A Weekly "Treat": Find a healthy indulgence that you can strategically incorporate into your week. This "treat" can be a massage or nail appointment, permission to watch a movie or a couple episodes of a TV show, a serving of your favorite dessert or a glass of wine, etc. Life is meant to be enjoyed. Consider regular indulgence as an act of self-care not as a sign of weakness or self-destruction. Embracing pleasure does not require guilt or external permission.

Happy New Year, loves! Cheers to an abundant 2023 xx

[thebadboyfanclub]

I Don’t Think I Can Do This (Daemon x Reader)

Hey y’all so I know I was supposed to write another request but my job has cause my imagination to ran dry and this was certainly easier cause i wanted to write something that shows the burden that women carry and also that Daemon is a very grey character, I hope you guys like it

The story of (y/n) Eaglemore and Daemon Targaryen did not start as a love story, one would suppose that seems to be a common trait amongst the concept of arranged marriages, especially to a young maiden of an independent kingdom to the rogue prince Targaryen, their marriage was the establishment of Eaglemore joining their forces with the Targaryens, (y/n) was dressed in her traditional attire with her hair in an intricate style, she was breath of fresh air in the house of the dragons, a proud Eagle that was brave enough to fly with the dragons as the flag with the colors of red and black flew next to the black and red she assumed the similarities were bound as an omen for success.

That was quickly ripped out of her mind at the bedding ceremony that she endured, the prince was not brutal, yet she had hoped that he would forbid it, he was cold and only placed a kiss at the top of her head after it was done before he left her laying while the ones that observed it cleared the room, tears streamed down from embarrassment while the handmaidens helped her get up to assist her with her bath.

-

“Husband!”

She exclaimed excitedly before she skipped over to Daemon who was preoccupied with having a conversation with Viserys was much more important than turning his head to face her, alas the newlywed stood by his side and reached for his hand to get his attention, innocently she squeezed it only to be met with an annoyed expression as he gazed intensely at her.

“What?! (Y/n)! Did they not teach basic manners in your homeland?”

“I-I just, I wanted to give you this, I sewed it for you, it’s the dragon symbol with the eagle”

“Great, give it to the handmaidens, is that all?”

Suddenly she became hyper-aware of the pie of eyes around her, mostly men that had taken interest in the scene that unfolded in the gardens, she felt like a little girl scolded by her father, she bit her lower lip as her shoulders sunk in defeat, the glimpse in her eyes slowly disappearing like a light snuffed out.

“My apologies, I did not wish to interrupt you and the king, I hope you can forgive me, y-your grace”

“It is quite alright, my dear, for what it’s worth I found your creation a wonderful gift, do not pay attention to daemon he has never been good with gifts”

“If that means I have never been good with gifts that have no use then yes, I agree”

“I shall go, excuse me, your grace, husband”

She curtsied before she ran off, her chocolate-colored hair swinging left and right in her ponytail as her eyes looked down to hide the tears that she desperately held back, Daemon watched her and could sense the damage he had caused, sometimes he would catch himself staring at her with purity and interest, he had even smiled once when she struggled to find the right word in his language.

He should have stopped, he should have held his tongue when the evident quiver of her chin started to show when her eyes bounced in different directions as she wanted to gather her composure, but he didn’t, now Daemon stood as still as a grain of salt whilst she once again ran away from him covered in shame.

“She is your lady wife Daemon, must you be so hard on her?”

“A wife that was bestowed to me”

“She is also someone that was bestowed a spouse, yet she took it with grace and is grasping desperately to create the best out of the worst, as a man that prides himself on his intelligence your lady wife has surpassed you, at least in principle and empathy”

Daemon was stunned, as Viserys spoke in such kind words his words slashed through Daemon like the sharpest of knives, this was Daemon's second marriage, and it had become second nature to be rude and unattainable to his lady wife since the bronze bitch shared the same hatred as he did for her, now the cheerful lady with the deer like eyes and red puffy cheeks had been nothing but kind, a foreign pain in his chest started to make Daemon uneasy as she ran further and out of his line of sight.

“If I were you I would be very ashamed”

-

(Y/n) sat in front of the mirror as one of her handmaidens lit her candles and the other brushed (y/n)s hair to prepare her for bed, (y/n) stood as still as she could though her fingers intertwined with one another and twisted in odd ways.

“Could you leave me with Chiara, please? Thank you”

(Y/n) requested softly, the young handmaiden only curtsied before she walked out of (y/n)s chamber, whilst Chiara continued to brush her hair, they had grown into a bond that (y/n) felt comfort in, Chiara was sweet and honest, somewhat older, and had just given birth to her first child, she was the first handmaiden that she met when she got to the red keep.

“Do you love your lord husband?”

“I do, now”

“What do you mean?”

“I married him per my father's request, and he gave the biggest dowry, at first it was difficult, we had to figure out a way to communicate and after a while, I like to think that he grew to love me as much as I love him, though first, we respected one another, then love came gradually”

(Y/n) grew silent, her head hanging low before she bit her lip in defeat, she respected her lord husband? Did her lord husband respect her? After the incident on the morrow, it certainly didn’t feel like it.

(Y/n) had not noticed that Chiara had scrounged in front of her and placed her hands over (y/n)s, she only saw the tears that splashed over the handmaidens' skin.

“You won’t always feel like the outsider”

“I don’t think I can do this”

“You can, it is alright my dear”

One sob came after the other as (y/n)s body shook and Chiara lovingly wrapped her arms around the lady’s frame in such delicacy, it resembled a girl hugging her porcelain doll while she tried to not crack it, in its macabre nature you could identify a certain beauty, someone that had the strength to comfort a disheveled young lady as she navigated through womanhood and all its trials.

What had (y/n) nor Chiara had taken into account was that Prince Daemon had made his way to the half-cracked door, freezing in his sport once the whimpers of agony hit his ears, he peaked through the shadows only to be met with his lady wife letting tears stain her dress and hiccups shaking her hunching back as the handmaiden rubbed circles on her back.

“Prince Daemon is a fool for not acknowledging the precious stone that is you, may the gods bless him and open his eyes before he is taken from us”

Daemon had no reason to intervene, the poor lady was right, he was a fool, here she was, a beautiful and intelligent young royalty crying over his acts, he had always longed for home, for family, and now he kicked and toyed with it.

He should be the one comforting his lady wife, to gaze upon (y/n)s puffy and red face and do his best to calm her nerves, not to be the face of her pain, shamefully he scurried away without a word, mad at his reflection that stared back at him in such high horse, he had become everything he hated, a man that did not care about anyone but himself, stopping at nothing to prove he was right.

-

“Good morrow”

(Y/n) did not respond, she only raised her head and nodded at Daemon that had just entered the dining area, exhausted from crying the lady felt like a family of horses had run over her, getting barely a wink of sleep, evidently so by the veins under her eyes.

(Y/n)s silence was deafening to Daemon, however, he cleared his throat and took a sit next to his lady wife, waiting for a servant to pour him some wine.

“Orange juice? I believe we do not grow these over here”

“A gift from my mother, she said orange juice in the morning is a secret to a woman’s beauty”

“She must be the most astonishing lady back in your line”

“You met her, on our wedding feast, I believe you were too busy to pay attention, like always”

The last comment was barely above a whisper still sharp as a knife right on Daemon's abdomen, Daemon only turned his gaze at her, confused by her demeanor, it wasn’t uncalled for yet it took him by surprise, she always seemed to have the ability to hide her agony at least in public.

“Mayhaps we could go to her, I’m sure she will be more than happy if her daughter visited her”

“Not if my belly is flat, as much as she wanted me to be thin for most of my life she is now sending raven after raven to just check in with my monthly bleeds”

She informed him in a mumbling tone while her hand was rubbing circles on her temples, visibly annoyed over her mother's disregard for her well-being and hyper-focused on her womb.

Daemon was taken back by her comfortability to speak over her monthly visits, brushing it off easily though since they were husband and wife after all, those matters should concern him as well, the idea of a sweet little child running to (y/n)s arms brought him joy.

“It must be uneasy, being put in this position”

“Indeed and if I am being honest, my lord husband has not been making it any easier, with my empty womb nor his attitude”

“I understand you are cross with me”

“Can you blame me? You humiliated me”

Her tone switched from my king to a hiss, her eyes spewing fire as she stared back at him, it was the first time that she dared to show her true emotions, albeit Daemon could detect that it wasn’t just an act of anger but a sense of fear was laying behind those hues of hers.

He was correct, (y/n) feared for her future, the whispers of Daemon's visits to the street of silk, the adoration for his niece, his continuing ignorance over their wedlock, it all came crashing on her chest making it unable to breathe sometimes.

“I came to break my fast with you as a sign of goodwill, I want us to work on our relation-“

“Us? There is no us, you made sure of that my prince, you have crashed all my efforts and now you dare to speak of us”

“I cannot correct my past mistakes, I can only hope that you will allow me to work on our future, you did not deserve my coldness and for that, I sincerely apologize, I only wish for your good graces and for you to allow me to show you how I truly feel for you and our wedlock”

Silence, her eyes focused on his to scatter for one ounce of a lie, alas she was left with nothing, a sigh left her lips as she sunk to her chair defeated, why did the gods curse her with such a difficult match?

“I do not know if I can love you, I tried to desperately earn your affection for so long, I have grown tired of this”

“I know you have and I do not blame you, I beg you, my sweet (y/n), let me try”

His hand had found hers to hold, the warm flesh against hers grew goosebumps, a small beam of light found its way into her soul and a ghost of a smile appeared as (y/n) glimpsed upon their hands locked together, she gave him a subtle squeeze to see if this was a dream or reality.

“I suppose trying couldn’t hurt”

“Thank you, now you must eat, your mother might be right you have lost some weight”

“My efforts of getting accustomed to your foods have not been working”

“You do not have to, we can bring a cook from your homeland, my lady wife shall eat whatever her heart contents”

“There are some delicacies that I believe you would enjoy”

“I am not very picky with food so I will try anything you put in front of me”

Chatter was something (y/n) could easily do, however, even though Daemons spirits were high, (y/n) would steal glances of caution at him, was this another scheme? Or was he genuinely craving her presence and good graces?

“I was hoping you could come to meet Caraxes later”

“I do not know if that is the best idea”

“Nonsense, Caraxes is a part of me, therefore a part of you by law, soon our children will have their eggs on their cradle, if you are surrounded by dragons you need to get used to their presence”

Requests are open!

[vagabond-umlaut]

hey, where is the pomegranate tree?

unstoppable force, aka kore, aka gojo, meets immovable object, aka hades, aka you— nothing can ever go wrong from this collision, trust me— n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; hades and persephone retelling [with a twist ;))]; 1.2k wc; stubbornly persuasive gojo; the reader is js so tired and annoyed [and tired]; enemies to lovers vibes[??]; talks of marriage and children; gojo thinks you are a fool, he is the real clown here

▸ pls don't glare at me if there is more than one inaccuracy here, haha. anyways, the header is from pinterest, the divider is by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ update: this fic is now part of a series!!! wreaths of asphodel 😊😊

"you shall spend the rest of your days in tears."

you're foolish; woefully so, gojo thinks, carefully observing you from his place on the chaise lounge, smiling while you continue seething, "and there will be no one who can save you. neither a hero nor a god. neither demeter nor zeus. no. one."

"but why do you think i will need saving, my rose?" the endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, the taste sweetening at the way your pretty lips dip into a deeper frown, "you're not a monster, are you?"

"no!" the defensive reply comes in less than a beat. though the words following it sound a tad less bold; it seems as if you're trying to make yourself believe and not scare him.

"i'm someone far fiercer— hades. the goddess of the dead. the queen of the underworld— and the cause for your misery should you choose to vex me any further."

"aw, no," gojo cries, decidedly making a show by slapping a hand over his eyes and faking a sniffle, "why must the only woman i want as my wife see me as an annoyance?"

then lets his hand drop down to the cushion, willing his eyes to well over with pitiful moisture. "as the god of life, i've only ever given and given– be it grains or fruits or vegetables or flowers– without asking anything in return— yet the first and only time i ask..."

he doesn't bother finishing his sentence, choosing to sob to add to the tragic atmosphere— though that doesn't mean he doesn't note the war of emotions on your face:

pity, confusion, anger, again confusion— you're so easy to read, to steer. very foolish, really.

"you'll not like living here," you eventually break the silence hanging within the room. your voice is much softer now; the god wonders if you sing. if you do, the muses will certainly be put to shame... "your days will be spent in utter boredom and gloom and tears–"

"– and no one can come to my aid then: yes, thank you," he interrupts you, more than a little tired, "you've driven the points too well into my head– so much so that i'm surprised there isn't a gaping hole in there, oozing blood and my brains. but why must you think i'll need rescue, huh??"

if a smidge of force escapes into his words, gojo decides not to pay it any mind— though only until he notices the small flinch you give– his insides twist and torment, quite inexplicably, thereafter.

"okay, look," he says, getting up from his slouch to move near you, but stops on catching the warning glint in your eyes.

"first of all, i'm not some damsel in distress being whisked away in a chariot here– i came here by own volition. and i'm offering my mind, body, heart, soul– the special package that i am, in fewer words– to you, by my own volition. why shall i want anyone to rescue me then?"

"besides," he proceeds to add, allowing an easy smirk to form on his face, "you're just the cute little goddess of the dead– not at all scary like your brother used to be; though i guess you try to imitate him in your glares, don't you? sukuna was quite notori—"

"don't you dare utter my brother's name, foul olympian," a quiet growl slashes gojo's comment, sending it plummetting to the ground— and making him understand why you, the inconspicuous, sheltered sister of the vicious former holder of the name 'hades', was given the crown, in the aftermath of your brother's banishment– instead of the several more well-known candidates...

"i apologise," gojo offers in the very next instant, making it as genuine as he can, "i never meant to upset or offend you. i'm sorry if i did."

you just stare at him for a beat, gojo watches, before your shoulders lift then fall in a sigh. the fire burning in your aura abates by a pinch.

sighing once more, you finally break your silence, "It's okay, and um– suppose i too should apologise. you might be an olympian but you're not as foul as them, no. please forgive me for calling you so."

"no problem, my rose," the god is quick to accept your words with a wave of his hand and a beam, further widening when he notices the sliver of smile on your countenance, "but does this mean i appeal to your tastes? i mean, you called me 'not as foul as them', didn't you?? did you just accept my hand in marriage, then???"

"no, i didn't..." your subtle smile disappears swifter than it appeared. a half of gojo's floral crown, quite inexplicably, wilts on the table before. he watches your eyes fall to it, then snap up to meet his.

"do you love me?"

not yet, but he thinks he can. you might be an idiot but you certainly aren't an unlovable idiot— and one voice in his mind murmurs, those precious, innocent looks of yours aren't even the main reasons why...

the god shoots back a languid smile. "if you want to see me in love with you, so be it."

"that's neither 'yes' nor 'no'," you point out, frowning, before vaulting your second query of the evening, "if we get married, do you want to have children?"

it won't be very unfavourable, if you both do... with the vivid colour of your eyes, or the adorable shape of your nose, or the radiance of your skin, or the— "if you want, i shall be happy to assist," he ekes out with a meaningful wink, albeit he doubts how much of it reaches you.

you're very foolish, after all... and no– it's not because of the awkward way he says it– no! not in the slightest! he wasn't fumbling at all!

you wrap the shawl tighter around your shoulders but don't move any further away, gojo notes. the same way he does the slight tint in your cheeks when you roll your eyes with a scoff.

"you're unbelievable, kore. truly, terribly unbelievable." you press the pads of your thumbs over your forehead before releasing it, gaze an unprecedented mark of sharp when it settles on his face.

"is there nothing you want from our union, eh? i refuse to believe you wish to marry me without any demands, as if on a mere whim– but if it is so, i ought to warn you, kore: my answer is and will always be one firm 'no'."

your words mustn't ignite this odd restlessness in him. they certainly mustn't— still, gojo finds his chest tight and the air heavy as he grins back and says, "i only want to be your husband, your majesty... but if that is too much for you right now–"

the stretch on his lips simmers down to something smaller. yet truer.

"i want you to call me by my name. my real name. can you do that, my rose?"

you don't say anything in response for a long while. so long, in fact, it makes the god wonder if you are ever going to reply to his request.

perhaps not, he thinks quite a bit down-spirited when you suddenly turn on your heel and with a swish of your long shawl, stride out the rooms– o-oh.

you stop just as abruptly at the threshold. a complicated grin shining on your face as you twist to look at him over your shoulder then say:

"good night, gojo satoru. pray the ghosts prowling these halls don't eat you up ere dawn."

you're gone not even few feet away from the door, before gojo falls face-first into the bed, the entire room suddenly erupting into thousands of roses in all colors ever seen. [lolol, he is such a loser for you! xD]

▸ masterlist

[netherworldpost]

With the various rumors and releases of Tumblr possibly changing how they do things... (gestures to the vague rumor mill)...

Zines.

I really think we as Folks Who Make Things and Folks Who Like Art Writing Poetry Music Comics Other Things need to explore zines. And I mean ZINES. Nothing glossy. Nothing fancy.

Very. Cheap. Zines.

I've been threatening mentioning I was going to create a guide on how I'm going to approach this -- and I'm going to -- but I am also realizing in the writing I Do Things Highfalutin because I am who I am + had a career in graphic design.

Let's talk about how you can make a zine very cheaply and very pretty.

STEP ONE: SUPPLIES

Very bright paper. I like "Astrobrights" because they are absurdly bright. Here is a link in a store I like. I buy a lot of paper and envelopes from them. You can generally find Astrobrights in big box office stores. It prints on laser printers and ink jet and photocopiers.

Very bright envelopes. What's that? Astrobrights has envelopes?! AM I SOLVING PROBLEMS let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Letter paper is 8.5" x 11" and is the most common size in the united states (overseas folk will have to use this advice with a grain o'sea salt and search yer own waters).

A9 envelopes are a letter sheet folded in half.

A2 envelopes are a letter sheet folded in half, then folded in half.

#10 envelopes are your common long envelopes, letter paper folded in thirds.

Pick the size you like.

If you want to get big and fancy, Tabloid is 17" x 11" -- so double a letter sheet. This gets tricky to work with but is neat in sizing.

STEP TWO: ZINE CONTENT

Do you know how to use InDesign or similar program? Use that.

No? Use Google Docs or Word or whatever other program and ramble.

Want something special? Write out some or part with a sharpee or pen.

Mix and match both.

If you are feeling fancy, design it like a booklet -- mock up a sheet of blank paper as if it were a brochure. If not, just design it straight up and down like a letter. There are no zine laws.

STEP THREE: ZINE PRINTING

Print at home on your home printer.

Don't have a printer at home? Print it at work (don't get fired)

Can't? Your local library may be able to help.

You need 1 copy on white paper.

FedEx Office has photocopiers. Your local library may too. Or your job.

Print 1 copy of your zine on white paper and then photocopy the rest onto colorful paper (or white paper, it be yer zine seadog).

Or print everything on the color paper if you have access to free printing, that's fine too.

The photocopy setup is purely "printing tends to cost more than photocopying."

If you want to slash prices, print 2 per sheet and have FedEx office cut them for you, this will cost $1 - $5 depending on how many sheets you are dealing with. This is for when you're doing a LOT of zines at once.

Or use their manual paper cutter yourself for free.

STEP FOUR: ZINE STAPLING

"Long reach stapler" is what I recommend. There are a few varieties. They tend to be $20 - $30.

Or just use 1 sheet!

STEP FOUR: ZINE POSTAGE

A single first class stamp for 1-2 pages. If you get up to 3+, go to the post office and ask them to weigh a comp you have assembled.

This is a guideline.

It's a really good idea to check at least once how much your zine weighs just in general. Post offices have scales. And are pretty. And have stamps.

OKAY ENOUGH LUSTING FOR THE POST OFFICE FROM THE GHOTS POST OFFICE BLOG BACK TO WORK

STEP FIVE: ZINE MAILING

This is actually the most difficult part. Label printers exist with various costs -- if you're starting out? Go with printable labels.

Your office supply shop will have them and they'll have templates you can drop in the customer addresses.

Save yourself time by using this label as the thing that seals the envelope -- don't lick envelopes.

A key tenet to staying in business is constantly reviewing physical (and mental) labor and stressors and reducing them as much as possible.

Return address labels are intensely cheap in literally every online printer, google "return address labels." Make sure you have this because at least a few of your shipments will come back to you.

STEP SIX: ZINE PRICING

Okay here is where we get uncomfortable because we're talkin' coins.

Prices are based on above links. You can get whatever paper you want, so this is guidelines. All numbers rounded up.

Payment processing ($0.30) + $0.05 sheet + $0.15 envelope + $0.66 first class postage = $1.16 base cost

$1.16 + 2.9% of $1.16 payment processing = $1.20

Plus taxes. I'm not getting into tax figures YOU DO THAT (just say 30% for easy math, this is not saying "your taxes are 30% or that mine are" I am saying "I am going to factor 30% for this equation to complete this guide".)

I did not include the mailing label (it will be $0.01 - $0.05 depending on how fancy and how many you buy) because you have the option to just write things and also it fits into the rounding of the above.

If you use Patreon, include your fees. Probably replace the above processing fees with your patreon processing... fees? I don't use patreon I don't know how it works.

Retail option 01: $1.50 - 1.20 = $0.80 gross - 30% = $0.09 / net / zine.

Retail option 02: $2 - 1.20 = $0.80 gross - 30% = $0.56 / net / zine.

Retail option 03: $3 - 1.20 = $1.80 gross - 30% = $1.26 / net / zine.

Should it be $1.50? Should it be $3.00? MORE? LESS?! That is for you to decide. Base it on what your zine contains, how long it takes you to write/draw/etc. it and how you want your flow to be.

STEP SEVEN: ZINE FREQUENCY

When my shop launches, it'll have a zine once a month. We are going to offer a subscription option + a "I just want 1" option.

You can do a zine monthly, or every few months, or whatever.

Keep in mind that the purpose of doing this is to break the dependency on social media marketing.

KEEP IN MIND AS AN AUDIENCE MEMBER TO A CREATOR YOU LIKE THAT THEY ARE DOING THIS TO BREAK THEIR DEPENDENCY ON SOCIAL MEDIA MARKETING.

If you have a lot of energy and an audience that comes to your shop a lot? Consider doing a zine monthly.

If you do not have a lot of energy and/or your audience is tapped for cash frequently? Considering doing 1 zine per season.

Consider 2 zines a year if that works better for you!

NO RULES ONLY JOY

Not sure? Experiment! Be upfront! "This is new. I'm figuring this out. Billionaires are tinkering with these things and we gotta figure something else out."

BONUS STEP: NETHERWORLDPOST.COM

so hi I'm atty and I'm your loud long rambler today

Netherworld Post Office used to be @evilsupplyco and now we are rebranding in prep of relaunching. Same person behind the rambles and comics, new name with a more focus (mail instead of mail + seemingly everything else in experiment)

if you enjoyed this ramble and/or like ghosts, monsters, witches, mermaids, and fun stories and projects focused on cozy Halloween, you may like us when we finish the rebranding and relaunching in autumn 2023.

email sign up (the zine will come when we are open)

WHETHER YOU JOIN MY LIST OR NOT

I really, really, really hope you consider doing a regular, or irregular, zine. Something outside of email, something outside of social media, something that connects I MADE A WEIRD THING and the people who say I LOVE THIS WEIRD THING YOU MADE.

The walls are closing in on free social media as a platform for people who make weird things to build audiences for free or very cheap.

And with that...

netherworldpost.com as one final hat pass

good luck folks

thanks for listenin' to the ol' ghost

[fauustic]

a second chance

BRIEF SPOILERS FOR ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE, DESCRIPTION OF REVEALED WORLD-BUILDING.

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst. comfort. a bit of fluff. miguel o’hara breaks up with you for your safety, but the universe gives you both a second chance.

warnings: description of violence.

word count: 7358

Somehow, the city seemed even more suffocating out the window of Miguel’s apartment, lights of every color on the spectrum peering into the room as highly advanced cars skimmed by. The millions of people inhabiting such a place had their own problems, but for a moment you wished you were someone else. On their way to work in a tip-top business suit, an old person trying to make the most out of every passing day– anything other than here was more appetizing.

For a moment, you wish you were ignorant to the burden of these powers, the powers Miguel was forced upon and the powers you greedily accepted like a little kid in a candy shop.

It was all too much.

You’ve never seen Miguel so emotional, his knees meeting the ground before you could even shut the door.

There were glimpses of what let through, the broken state of his mind that he so desperately tried to keep together like grains of sand falling through fingers. Late nights he would break down sobbing in your grounding hold, chanting and repeating broken phrases of what had him so upset. Other times these fits you slowly grew accustomed to would be set off from your kindness, actions so deeply rooted in your routine that when it started creating disturbances in your relationship. It was painful, being the glue that held him together.

At the beginning of your relationship, it was something magical. Like one of the romance comics you’d skim through as a teenager, or a romcom movie that had you pining for the lovey-dovey side character.

Miguel was set in his ways no matter what he was faced upon, and making a statement on how serious he felt about you was no different. He’d court you with the utmost respect, swaying you with gifts and flowers that reminded him of you. His affectionate nature came to fruition as you crumbled all his walls in mere months, destroying the years of progress that he enforced to keep others out.

Yet, those nasty habits Miguel formed when he had no-one else slowly peeked through the crevices of your time together. Soft red flags that waved in passing roses he’d give after bad arguments of “your safety,” a bad feeling in your gut whenever Miguel mentioned something along the lines of, “they can’t hurt you too.”

The few months leading to the end of it all was messy, as secrets he precariously kept away from you fell right at your feet. Literally, and figuratively.

Waking into your shared home, all that was on your mind was preparing a meal for you boyfriend who always seemed to come home late. The scent of the apartment washed over your exhaustion-ridded body, cracking your shoulder with a pained hiss.

Distinct woody fragrances wafted throughout the cozy décor, Miguel’s aroma of Sambac jasmine combined with cedar and praline met your senses as a familiar comfort. You wondered if Miguel experienced the same after a long day, your magnolia and orange blossom washes relieving him of the stress of work.

Miguel was overwhelmed, sickened by his work at his lab. You’d always try to help him through his struggles with a massage, which he'd melt under your touch in mere seconds, but the moment you attempted to get him to speak about his troubles he always found an excuse. 

So you stopped, having to face rejection so many times by the man you adored put so much wear on your own mental health too.

Getting home a bit earlier, you situated your suit in your over-the-shoulder bag before fully stepping into the apartment. As your entire being was surrounded by the reminder of Miguel, guilt slashed through your consciousness at keeping your own secrets away from him as well. But he was worried sick always, whether it be about his own duties or confusingly about your safety.

Yet, when your sneakers you changed into moments before entering the house slipped onto something haphazardly thrown against tile floor– the façade Miguel tried to feed into to "keep you away from harm" came crashing down. 

It felt like an earthquake within your own home, rattling your heart around your ribcage like a feral bird stuck in an aviary. You were quiet, the gasp where sickness soon followed escaped through your stifling fingers wrapped against your mouth. It was terrible, being exposed to the truth in an act caught red-handed.

Curiosity snatched up your brain, the urge to prove what the mask strewn against the floor truly meant. You knew what was bound to come, but you couldn't help but think of a million different excuses in the time you tiptoed through the hallway and met the sight of his scarred back sitting upon the table.

His suit was torn off in a hurry, you assumed, by the state of how the half of his suit was rolled down to his waist and his mask was ripped off and thrown down carelessly. Finally catching him in such a vulnerable position, your heart seized and shriveled just to be rolled out again as his groan in pain cut you away from your thoughts.

 You were upset. You know you had no right to be, but as every lie he fabricated to allow the space to have this second life pushed to the forefront of your mind, a choked sob erupted through your throat.

Why did he suffer through this burden alone? Is this what kept him from letting me in? Your brain became muddled with questions, tears clouding your tired gaze. Miguel was in the middle of tightening a gauze against a nasty cut on his forearm, curls damp with sweat and blood, when the choked cry that escaped your lips caught his attention like a spooked animal.

"Miguel," you sobbed harder as he continued to try and make excuses,

"Cariño, it isn't what it looks like–" 

Your voice raised as heightened emotions threatened the atmosphere, your grasp on your bag tightening because you had your own secrets and second identity. Why wouldn't honesty escape from your mind and rid the ache in your chest? 

You settled on being mad. Being absolutely furious as you reminded yourself of the lies he'd conjured, make you worry about his job as a chemist and even embarrass yourself by going up there and filing a complaint. Knowing it was all an act and you were just a side-character to his play, a mix of disappointment and betrayal fogged your mind. "I'm not blind, O'Hara!"

Stomping back down to swipe up the mask, lens broken and flimsy under your manhandling, you waved it around the air like you were showcasing an audience. Miguel only groaned, pinching his nose as his own frustration clouded his critical thinking. "I know exactly what I'm looking at, Miguel, really? Is this why you act like you're so fucking scared of something?"

He repeated your name this time, cold and calculated. Like you were a villain on the battlefield Spider-man– he– just destroyed earlier, spitting out the criminal's tag like it was worse than the dirt he stepped on. "¡Mierda!" He seethe, standing up only to shuffle closer, but you only stepped away. "Do you think I enjoyed keeping this fucked up secret away from you? No estoy orgullosa de mí misma."

Tell him you have the same problems.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" You cried instead, and his hands reached to cradle your cheeks but you pathetically swiped them away. 

Tell him you have to worry about living until the next day for the sake of protecting others.

He was frozen stiff, his hands– claws you've never noticed before, unsheathing in and out of his palms. "I.. was. But I was terrified."

Tell him you're scared of others finding out who you really are too. Tell him you relate, and there was no reason to hide anymore. 

But you didn't, instead you wiped away your own tears with sweaty palms, struggling to keep yourself from staring at Miguel's broken expression. He looked like a kicked puppy, his arms reaching out to you subtly to show if you walked into his arms he'd never let you go.

"Scared of what?" You tried your best to sound as furious as before, but all that came was a meek whisper. 

Miguel's own tears fell onto the floor, catching your eyes as you stared at his mask in your clutches. "I'm so, so fucking scared of losing you. Tú eres mi vida, the air I breathe. You're the one constant I've had in my life, having it ripped away from me would kill me."

He's finally being open, and for a moment you saw light at the end of the tunnel. A turning point for the man, a second chance at being transparent in your relationship. It gave you the courage to come clean about your own second life and to apologize for your irrational words. But he spoke before you, rough and etched with hurt.

"But I don't know if we can keep this up."

"What?" The trance he was putting you under was shattered.

He laughed at nothing, his stare tinted with animalistic craze. Miguel's claws dug into his curls, "We need to break up." 

The mask in your grip fell, a stunned silence settling over the two of you. He had just said he couldn't live without you, how he wouldn't know what to do if you were ripped away from him– and now he's proposing a breakup? 

"You, what? Is this some joke?"

He turned away from you, pacing in unsaid panic. You knew he didn't want to do this, yet once he had a plan in his mind you also knew that he'd sacrifice anything to do the "right thing."

Miguel repeats your name the second time that night, your composure thrown off at the lack of pet names he would utter like honey from his tongue. He sounds hollow, dissociated from himself to make this discussion finish quicker. "They, I'm scared– okay? Scared shitless that they're going to come after you." He wheezed out another dry laugh, his bruised knuckles coming to kiss his eyes to blind his vision. The loudness of your voice from before must be giving him headaches. Because you were struggling with the same thing too.

"I can fend for myself–" you began to counter, hands coming in contact with the spider suit in your bag before his booming voice shook you to your core.

"No, no. You don't understand." Sobs choked his words, a flood of tears he couldn't bother to rid staining his cheeks and rolling down his jaw. "You can't! They're coming for me, and the ones I love. And the only one I love is you." Miguel emphasized himself by grazing your chest with a talon, exactly where your heart beat lurched and pattered like a broken down engine. "They will target you, and they will kill you."

Desperate, you were the one now begging for him to walk into your embrace. But he only turned away, his marred back facing you. The image burned itself in your mind.

"Who are they, Miguel? Why, even now, you won't tell me anything?" You sank to your knees, crawling towards him in despair. It couldn't be over.

"Hemos terminado. We're done, over." Miguel's tone steeled over, icy and painful and jarring. "Get out of my house."

He stood there like a statue, one arm holding himself only for his free hand to be pinching the bridge of his nose. Miguel didn't move as you quieted down your wails, and storm through the house to take what was yours and what you needed.

No words left your lips as you would steal a glance at his unmoving figure, the only giveaway that he was even breathing was his wavering composure. His attention stayed fixated on a corner of his apartment, head turned away from you the entire time.

You didn't care that you were still leaving so much of your stuff as your legs tripped over themselves to finally leave his apartment. You had more than enough money to live on your own, to buy the barebones like a toothbrush and necessities all over again.

Miguel O'Hara would now be a thing of the past, and all of the things tied to him could burn down in the apartment he held you. 

Your senses could tell that once your sneakers squeaked down the hallway of his apartment, thinking you would never be able to notice– Miguel's knees met the floor of his apartment with a heavy thud.

Fighting the amount of bags in your hands while simultaneously pushing the button of the first floor repetitively, the last memory you have of Miguel was his unfiltered sobs filling the apartment floor.

☆

With time, you found yourself.

Whether it be from the new body wash you had bought for yourself or the different commute you began to take for work, a niche engineering project you've stumbled upon after the breakup– and it coincidentally helps you test materials that you could incorporate into your suit. The constant reminder of the man you brought to your knees didn't hurt that much anymore. Progress was being made, or so you thought.

Every time your back met a brick wall from the force of some outer-dimensional monster turned sentient who all of a sudden wants to get back at the human race, the thud that echoed from the impact would knock you right back to the apartment filled with sweet praline and magnolia. His sobs trailing behind a screech of pain from your enemies, causing hesitation in your combat.

The cheers below you snapped you out of your daze, civilians chanting for your victory or screaming in fear as they ran away. After the breakup, you've found yourself with the leniency of being able to suit up whenever your heart desires because you weren't keeping a secret away from another anymore.

You bit your cheek in frustration, upset at how you handled the situation because you had done the same and you were mad at him for doing exactly what you were doing. All these months have passed, and you still can't help but feel guilty.

But it's in the past now.

Another screech met your ears, back shivering as a chill washed over your spine. With the fast reaction speed you were able to build, you swung out of the way to another rooftop before the alienistic creature side slammed you. The web slinger you have tinkered with enhanced your ability to shoot out organic webs at a consistent pace, working as fine as a charm when you swing back towards the vicious monster to crunch your knuckles sickeningly into its slimy flesh. It glitched disgustingly.

It withered away with ease, falling off the skyscraper it had leaped upon in an attempt to finish you off. Throwing a device onto the being, it was trapped into a vibrant hold it couldn’t get out of.

Your soft cream-white suit glistened with its green blood, covering the black trim you painstakingly painted in the dead of night.

The appearance you kept up as a Spider-person upgraded with time because you didn't exactly mind the limelight. Not staying in the shadows anymore since you didn't have to worry about O’Hara finding out about you, your suit became something you adorned with confidence. It was a part of you now, as cheers sounded out from below at your entertaining brawl with a slime monster that totally wants to eradicate the city. 

But yeah, go ahead and cheer you poor ignorant souls.

You never really came up with a name, but as you began incorporating little trinkets on your newly added combat satchel like a stray feather and charms of swans because a little girl said "your suit reminded her of one," the news generously graced you with the title "Spider Swan." On some bad days on the broadcast, though, the name would easily become a tomato show for jokes like "baby bird couldn't flap its wings," or "someone left the nest a bit too early."

It was infuriating.

The headgear installed in your mask allowed you to pick up on police waves, listening into calls and urgent matters so you could have a better idea of where you were needed and how you could help.

It rang through the noise of webs slinging from a glass window to a neon billboard, the police urgently requesting backup on a city street not that far away from you. It was describing a creature just like the one you obliterated, slimy and green and totally not from your universe. A scream pierced the radio waves, encouraging a sense of a little more urgency in your movements.

Becoming more involved with this line of work, you began to understand Miguel's worries. Corrupt organizations would pray for your downfall, threatening everyone you should probably hold dear to your heart as your spurred shoes met the slide of their faces. Other times skilled criminals would form alliances with one another and try to dig up your true identity as a way of blackmail.

It never worked and they're now where they need to be, but you suppose after you hear so many threats you begin to take it with nonchalance– and suddenly it isn't an empty threat– the panic that overwhelmed O’Hara was perfectly reasonable.

The beautiful lights of the underground city lit up against your lenses like a wildfire, a visual feast you’ve never been able to get enough of. Swinging throughout the tight spaces of Nueva York, you neared closer to where you were needed. A gunshot veered past you, presumably from a dumb cop, and you had to flip in the air and roll onto the street before picking up speed again.

Hissing out in pain, a quip escaped your lips when you neared the police force. “Did anyone here train to do their job? The last time I was here you almost shot me in my good eye–” Before you could even finish your sentence, two rookies pulled their guns in a defensive stance. With a heavy sigh, you easily subdued them with your webs before swinging into action.

The monster looked as if it was already struggling, turned away from your figure and groaning in its mother tongue, oozing with a gross slime that littered and disrupted the flow of traffic down below. It was relatively larger than the one you had just captured and suddenly the device in your hand feels a little too small. Nonetheless, as the villain flailed lazily, the heel of your foot met the crunching sensation from one of its many eyes. You almost gagged as it exploded onto your white suit, but the navy blue lenses meeting your contrasting white made time stop. It wasn’t until one of the many tentacles belonging to the creature yanked your ankle– soaring you violently towards a skyscraper– that the trance from the one you had been avoiding was interrupted with a shock.

“You–”

He had been trying to find you like a fox finding a bunny, you knew that. Waiting in the shadows, you always see him stalking beyond the darkness. And now you’re right here, finally coexisting in the same space after months of a cat-mouse game. “Can’t exactly talk here,” You yelled, deepening your voice in a pitch that made you cringe. “Let’s put a raincheck on what’s going on here and focus on the weird dimensional-octopus that’s currently beating your ass.” Spider-Man, with a groan of frustration that was just so familiar, noticeably squinted in your direction that had you sweating bullets as he right hooked the head of the monstrosity.

You knew everything about him. He knew nothing about you.

“I’m supposed to be the one and only Spider-Man of this–” He dodged a tentacle aiming for the head, only to unsheathe his claws and start ripping into the flesh of the villain. The smell, something similar to the stench of Sulphur mixed with radioactive chemicals. It burned your enhanced senses, tipping your balance before you caught yourself. 

“Well obviously, you’re not.” Steadying your emotions, the calmness of your tone contrasted his irritability. “You know it’s not impossible–” Webs meeting tentacles, the screech of the glitching excrescence interrupting your words before quickly silencing it with another heel to the eyes. Pointing up and then at the watch around his wrist, you gave him a pointed look and a shrug. Nothing was said, but at the exasperated howl at your accusatory gesture– he obviously understood the unsaid. 

“I’ve been speaking to you for a minute–” Another punch. “And I’m already finding you the most annoying out of all of them–”

You rolled your eyes, webbing the tentacles of the monster together like shoelaces stuck together. “Gee, thanks tough guy.” No response.

The monstrosity the two of you had been grappling against grew more frantic with its movements, growing more aware of its losing battle by the moment. With defeat in tow, the tentacles split into multiple. Green juice splattering excessively over the city blocks, it screamed horrendously in pain. The dimensional monster was imploding into itself, never allowing it the chance to return back to its universe.

Being so close to the glitching, dramatic death of the slime monster– Spider-Man pushed the heaving half-corpse’s weight off his own in a flurry. Always having to be quick on your feet in this field, you webbed the monster in the air so it could hang uselessly– the death of the anomaly would not be able to interfere with anything amongst Nueva York. 

Being on your own despite having so much at your finger-tips, the separation between you and O’Hara made things difficult. You were on your own despite being at the core of everything. 

Head buzzing with spider senses, your attention snapped towards the man that is tangled with your entire being– a useless game of push-and-pull that neither one of you are giving into. 

Spider-Man miscalculated the leap away, his claws trying to find purchase in the metal beams of the building. But something was wrong, the slime running down his forearms ruining his suit’s resistance. 

The structure O’Hara clung to was threatening to crumble due to the constant strain of the battle, doused in the greasy muck that pixelated and discolored by each passing moment the villain was close to combusting entirely. Before you knew it, the construction of the building that was so complexly fabricated was coming down and shifting into rubble on the borough down below. 

Your limbs began moving on its own, your mind racing into a frenzy of saving the people down below and the man you revolved around like the sun and moon– unknowing forces pushing the two of you together but never touching. 

Until now.

The collision lasted only seconds, but to you it was as if the eclipse was forever. Skin sizzling with nerves you didn’t even know you could feel ignited aflame, the pads of your feet coming into contact with the building’s crumbling walls– diving into spaces and using the webs you shot as a catapult. 

Your hold came into contact with a body before you knew it, warm and intimate like you were back in his home. Tucked away in the softness of his duvet, your arms wrapped around his skin like an anchor against the raging waves. Memories came flooding in, lightheaded with your spider senses crying out in danger against the puzzle pieces that placed O’Hara on a pedestal. The first rose he gave you floated through the crevices of your brain, an astray petal landing softly on a memory you forced down. 

The radioactive spider that latched its fangs into your skin on the night you met O’Hara, pain mixing with anticipation. 

It's like the city lights grew more vibrant at the realization, soda blue mixing with dragon fruit pink– lime green swirling with sunny yellow. Everything fits together. This was how it was supposed to go, despite all the pain.

Strength you’ve built up allowed yourself to heave him onto your shoulder, breathing heavily at his weight crushing yours. But determination and adrenaline pushed you further, swinging through the shadowed city until you found a safe perch– laying him down gently. Time was running out, but you had to do what needed to be done.

Ripping on the tattered mask upon your face, you scooped up his head into a soft grasp. Right hand behind his neck and the other leaning the back of his head towards your unearth identity, his lenses tiredly widened at the abrupt reveal.

Tears you didn’t know you had in you– not shedding a tear ever since the day the two of you broke up– flooded your eyes and rolled down your sliced skin. Salt mixed with flesh, the pain kept you wide awake and aware.

“Still the most annoying one you ever met?” You couldn’t help but try to ease the tension in the atmosphere, yet failing with obvious reason.

O’Hara whispered your name like a blessing, claw upon his chest meeting the dirt on your cheek in the softest graze he’s ever bestowed against you. “You– you’re here.”

“I’m here.” You echoed, resting your forehead against his own. His suit caressed against your skin, and the world stopped. All that you could hear was his soft wheezing of breath and your own, and suddenly everything felt okay.

“¿Cómo puede ser eso?” He muttered aloud, “How can this be? How are you here?” he became a mumbling mess as nervousness clutched his rationality. O’Hara’s hand swiping against your jaw shifted to the small of your back in a hug. It was like nothing had ever happened, and you were about to fall in the ravine of his presence before a ear-blasting trill of beams breaking pulled you back into reality. You stood up, rolling your mask back on before looking down below. A miracle was going to have to happen for everything to turn out okay, but you were willing to take that risk. He called your name, reaching the hand not clutching his side out in desperation. “Don’t do this– you can’t change–”

You kept your back turned, shooting your webs onto a piece of rubble falling for leverage. “Don’t you dare fucking move.” Was the last thing you said before you plunged into the chaos that was unravelling Nueva York from the inside out.

☆

The abrasion of concrete rubbing against your skin carved into your skin, until it didn’t. Dust threatened to enter your lungs as you weaved in and out of obstacles created from the fissures of collapsing high-rises, bodies clasping onto you like a lifeline– until that ended as soon as you started as well.

Everything made sense finally, and then it stopped. Paused as soon as it strengthened, disentangling memories and causing fragmentation.

Lips met yours, the firm grasp of palms against your hips. “Cariño, you don’t understand how much I’ve thought about my mouth on yours since we last met.”  A familiar voice whispered into your ear, kneading into your flesh as each syllable rolled out lazily. But the warm breath fanning the side of your face never came, and the wisps of hair that met your forehead never tickled you.

The touch of an elevator button against your index ignited your senses, bags dragging down your tired form. The thud of knees meeting tile followed, before ending with sobs echoing in the corners of your mind.

Darkness enveloped your mind, the vibrancy of neon lights that grew so comforting never came. 

Cold metal met your limbs, grazing your chest and the beeping of a scan met your ears. Orange hues painted the darkness for just a moment, before vanishing like a hallucination. Little bits and pieces of words would echo throughout the chamber you’ve found yourself in– “When do you think,” – “¡Mierda! Are you even doing your job correcting?!” – “Let me take over,” “You have no idea what you are even looking at, Miguel!” – “But you do?!”

It was like this for a while, until the words grew closer and the colors overlapping pitch black spread like webs. 

The first thing you felt was a weight on your leg, thigh trapped under the pressure of something breathing and shifting ever so slightly. The covers lying atop your form was nothing close to the softness you were used to, instead the scratchy fabric brushed against your skin and the thin gown you felt as you twitched.

Your muscles ached, both out of stiffness and the strain of what you remember: the buildings collapsing around you, rubble piercing your skin. Your throat felt dry, the lights overhead intruded against your eyelids. The metal sensation from before, cold and icy, trailed along your arms as you woke.

Peeling your gaze open, your spider senses went into overdrive. It feels as if your body had sunken into the pit of an ocean, drowning and heavy with salt water flooding your pores. 

The first to catch your eye was the spider-shaped robotic machinery tending to your wounds, scabbed and bandaged with care. Your fists curled into the bed you rested against; the smell of chemicals embedded within the fabric burned at your nostrils. The luminescence of the lamps on the bedside counter were dimmed low as your gaze adjusted to the sensory intake, breathing deeply in a way to calm yourself.

This place was nothing you’ve ever seen before, but with an abundance of spider-themed gadgetry adorned along the wall and medical systems– alongside the hyper-technologically advanced computer interfaces connected to the tubed legs of the metallic spiders accessing the wounds you had, you assumed it must have been the Spider Society HQ you’ve heard in passing. The building above the greenery beyond Nueva York, a vision you were only able to get glimpses from riding the train.

Holding your breath, you looked at the weight atop your thigh. 

A tuft of combed-back brown curls met your stare before tracing the few strands hanging delicately over his forehead. His eyes were fluttered shut, eyebrows furrowed as if he was having a bad dream. Deep stress lines you desperately wanted to thumb away rested in-between his brow, leading you to the circles under his closed eyes. Deep and prominent against olive skin, O’Hara was now in a slightly modified, upgraded version of his navy blue suit that had none of the previous damage from the battle you stumbled upon.

His head lay against your thighs heavily, breathing in your scent deeply as he dozed off. Every few snores, he’d stutter in his sleep as if he was about to shock himself awake– but he easily settled back in the softness of your muscle after his hand upon your stomach would grab the flesh of your stomach softly. 

You took a moment to study him. There’s been a few times you’ve sighted him in the streets, usually his mask covering his identity always. This is the first time you’ve truly had him so close and the realization of it all made your palms sweat and your stomach churn. The usual quips and your homemade spider-mask could not save you now, you were in the den of a lion’s. He quite literally had you in his grasp.

The knowledge you had of this place was limited, not being a part of the Spider Society because you had to avoid him– and now that everything has been revealed in regards to both of your secrets you had no idea what to do from here. Not like you could do much right now though, your bones feel fragile and your muscles feel weak. How long have you been holed up in this cage?

A groan escaped O’Hara’s lips, a frown contorting his features. Under the spell of sleep, he looked much more soft. The rigidness of his stoicism couldn’t plague his expression as dreams consumed him, but as his frown deepened and the lines between his eyebrows became more prominent,, you couldn’t help but slide your hand underneath his. Squeezing it, his scarred fingers subconsciously intertwined with yours without a moment’s hesitation. 

A smile bloomed onto your lips at the sight, your heart running a marathon at the closeness you were allowed. All the anger festered up from that night ebbed away with time and understanding– having the role as a Spiderperson since the split made you candidly comprehend the stress and dedication one has to have. With the experience, the hardness O’Hara had on himself and others suddenly made sense, and as the confusion cleared– love remained. The man within your reach finally, has always been in the corners of your mind, memories unearthed by every little thing in your life. You may have changed your route to work, but then you started to pass his favorite restaurant. You may have changed your body wash, but the scent of praline underlined the floral smell of ocean breeze.

He was always there, one way or another.

Silence enveloped the room, minus the soft beeping and the slight hiss that escaped you whenever one of the freaky looking medical spiders zapped skin back into place. Yet, as you sat there quietly while looking outside the window, tracing flying cars with your gaze or simply admiring the amount of green you’ve possibly ever seen before– a shaky voice met your rhythmic, soft breathing.

Your name was the first thing he said, disbelief lacing his tone before both his hands scooped up the clutch you held onto him with delicacy, like he was hiding away a treasure in the palm of his hands. “Can’t believe anything any of this–”

“How… how long was I out, O’Hara?” Your voice didn’t sound like your own, fragile and meek. It made you feel pathetic– being able to save so many people in less than two minutes and suddenly you couldn't even bring yourself to speak. Without a word, he reached over to the bedside table to fiddle with a water bottle and a straw. He set the straw to your lips, grabbing your chin to take the straw.

He sighed, tutting like a worried mother hen. “Don’t use your voice so much, cisne. Drink.” It’s been so long since you’ve been waited on hand-and-foot that it almost made you annoyed, but you did what he said because you are bedridden after all. And in a way, it made you feel like he cared. The way O’Hara’s thumb swiped your lower lip when water trickled down your chin was calculated, as if he was trying to embed the feeling into his brain again.

“You had been slipping in-and-out of consciousness over the past week and a half.” He murmured, leaning into your space as your free hand patted on his chest to indicate you had enough water. A soft frown threatened at his lips, worry evident in his gaze.

Coughing from choking down so much water, the question tumbled from your mind without second-thinking. “And how long have you been here?” You felt your cheeks hearten due to the lack of filter, but a part of you really wanted to know.

Your embarrassment transferred to him as soon as the question hung into the hair, his gaze ripping away from your own. His frown wobbled at getting caught within the act, vulnerability showing through for once between the amount of time the two of you have shared. “I’ve..” Having an internal battle with himself, he exhaled with stress in defeat. “Been here since you got here.” Your eyes lit up, and he only groaned at your obvious excitement. 

“You were worried.”

“I was– I was not worried– dios mío–”

You sat up further on the pillows behind you, pointing into his chest as he leaned further away in lighthearted mortification of finally having to talk about his feelings. “O’Hara! You were! You were worried!”

“If I admit it will you stop repeating yourself–”

“Yes,”

O’Hara’s brow furrowed as if he was in physical pain, leaning back into the chair he sat right beside your bed. His hands still stuck firming around your sweating ones, his head leaned back in exasperation. “I was worried. I am always worried about you. I was scared shitless sitting there on that ledge while you dived into the unknown.”

Breath stuttering, you held the air within your lungs for a long second. It felt like a dream, having the Miguel O’Hara hunched over with his hands around your own like a delicate doll, flushed and embarrassed because he finally has to admit his feelings. The urge to kiss him overwhelmed you, and if you had the strength to lean forward and do so, you would. But exhaustion was dwelled deep into your limbs, and you didn’t want to overexert yourself.

“And, and– stop calling me that. Jesus, it’s like hearing a teacher addressing me.”

This caught your attention as his scarlet eyes met yours, swirling with a flurry of emotions that screamed of intensity. “Calling you what?” You asked, trying to sound indifferent when truly you were just teasing him. But he was more than observant– and when he caught you trying to play him like you were a guitarist and he was your bass. This only riled him up more.

“O’Hara?! I’m Miguel to you, Miguel.” His hands tightened around your own as he repeated his name twice, almost like a plea. “Stop making me act like a child, I have a reputation to uphold–”

“You became O’Hara the day you broke up with me.” Low blow, and quite petty– but you wanted to test if he truly had changed.

The rant you cut off halted without another word, O’Hara’s forehead meeting your thigh as if you just slapped him atop the head when you knocked sense into him. “I didn’t know what else to do.” His voice choked up almost instantaneously, his emotions as high as ever like he just processed you were truly here and talking to him. “And look at where we ended up.” The latter didn’t sound like he was speaking to you, more like he was stuck in his head someplace far away. “Your safety was what mattered the most to me– and back then these people, these people threatened to remove you from here. Wipe you off the plane of this universe like you never even happened.”

You were silent as his hands kneaded into your thighs gently, fingertips trailing up your stomach like he was trying to remember every part of your body again unconsciously. “I didn’t want to lose you, and for the longest time I pushed it away as much as I could until I couldn’t anymore.”

Your brain clicked and churred, gears rolling back in place in your post-coma fog. “.. Is that why you were so stressed, so different throughout the end of our relationship?”

Miguel sighed heavily, tears threatening to fall as if an entire world was lifted off his shoulders. “.. Yes. Yes, I’m not proud of it. I’m really not proud of myself.” He repeated, confessing his sins like you were the pastor and he was a sinner. “I just was terrified for you to be gone.”

“.. I’m tired of having so much loss in my life.” It was barely above a whisper, but you heard it.

His shoulders raised, stammering as if he was holding himself back. Without a word, you shrugged your hand from his own. Scarlet gaze meeting yours in surprise, fangs on display unknowingly as his mouth slacked– your arms raised towards him and instantly he allowed himself to melt into your embrace.

“I didn’t know.” Was all you said.

“I didn’t want you to know,” He murmured against your cheek, breath fanning your ear and arms meeting your back strongly. Just like your dreams. Miguel’s words trailed off anxiously, before concluding with something you haven’t heard in a long time, “mi cielo.”

Tears soaked your shoulder sleeve, but you didn’t care. “But I want you to know everything now. I want you to be a part of my life now, we can get through it all–”

A small frown met your lips, heart clenching at his words. “I, I can’t– 

“Mi pajarito, please,” Miguel breathed in deeply, “I really, really have missed you.” His hold surrounding you tightened subtly. The buzz of floating cars whizzed by as silence enveloped the both of you, the noise of watches sounding throughout the hallway kept you grounded. Drilled it into your head that this was truly happening, that you’re here with Miguel with both of your secrets unveiled. Under each other's protection. 

“Miguel, I.. I can’t be hurt again.” You wanted him, wanted him more than anything. But something snatched your heart up and forced it into an aviary. It raged against the railings of its captor, fluttering with desperation. You were scared of rejection again, the repressed emotions flooding your senses and making you sob. Miguel held you as you cried and continued to do so, tracing shapes into your skin like all those months ago. “Please don’t leave me again.”

The plea escaped you through tears, Miguel promised and promised and promised as he swiped away the wetness amongst your cheeks, his cold exterior he kept affront during your relationship crashed down in waves as his own tears pressed into your skin. “I’m so sorry. Please, please like you gave me– give me a second chance.”

His fingers trailed up, grasping the nape of your neck while the other caressed your cheek with a shakiness you’ve never seen before. Always so confident, it reminded you of the brokenness you witnessed on the last night you were together. But this felt genuine, the looming fear and despair hanging over his head all those months ago were fanned away with time. This was Miguel’s honest attempt at vulnerability.

You stared into his tearful eyes, a smile playing at your lips as your hands sat upon his own holding your face. Leaning in, your nose brushed his as your eyes fluttered shut. Your lips, chapped and cold, met his contrasting warm and refined touch. Miguel presumably did not care, as his fingers intertwined with your hair and grasped your chin with a sparked need. The kiss was short and sweet, as the two of you breathed into each other’s mouth. Relishing in the moment, you pushed forward again as desperation seeped into your rationality.

Your hands moved from his own to his shoulders, pulling him deeper into the kiss and he just consumed whatever space you gave him. Miguel was aware of every muscle he pushed against you, but as the both of you clawed into each other’s flesh Miguel’s resolve to stay gentle ebbed away as his spit swapped with yours. It was if you were a struggling flower, and he was both the air and sun and water combined. He was everything you needed, and he was everything you wanted. To you, he was the sun and you were the moon– seeing one another in passing but never touching until today. 

But to him, you were the stars that littered the sky. A comet passing by, beautiful and alluring. You were in each neon sign of Nueva York, where he stared a little too hard and could see a figure of you that was constructed from the little imagination he had left. 

He saw you in the headquarters he overworked himself in to forget you. He saw you in the shadows of the city he protected. Miguel saw you in everything he believed in, yet everything he went against simultaneously. 

But he’ll learn to make exceptions with himself and the rules he place, because as his fangs dig into your lower lip and the noise that erupts from your throat wraps him around your finger– Miguel tries to understand how he ever let you go.

“Miguel, you kiss me once and you’re already trying to bite me–” You begin to scold in your little way, until Miguel shushes you with another kiss to the lips.

“It’s all out of love, cariño.”

[mediumgayitalian]

“It’s half past eleven, Nico. I told you to get some rest.”

Nico’s face twists somewhere between a scowl and a frown.

“I don’t need to.”

He’s sorted the medicine cabinet eight billion times in his life — Will doesn’t need to think about it. Instead, he lets his mind wander, lets his hands handle themselves, lets his eyes stray to the hunched way Nico is standing, one knee resting on the cot Will assigned him, the other straight, foot resting, pointed, towards the door. His fingers twist and steeple together, thumb worrying his skull ring, faint scratches picked and scabbed over. His clothes sag off of him.

“It’s safe,” Will assures softly. Nico startles, turning his big, dark eyes to face him, and Will meets them head on, determined to let the seriousness show in his face. “Argus is watching the door, and Peleus is awake at the border. Nothing is going to attack us while you sleep.”

Nico worries his lip. “That’s not it.”

Half-lie. He was worried about being attacked — Will can feel it, the same way you can feel a bug crawling on your skin. Tiny brushes of something foreign along the sensitive nerves of his skin. But he’s shifty, still, beyond that, beyond the same fear they all carry.

“What is it, then?”

Nico shrugs. Squeezing his eyes briefly shut, Will focuses his energy, sending out teeny tiny vibrations too tightly wound for regular human senses to pick up, waiting for them to bounce back at him. Usually, he hates doing this — too much input. He can feel the ions shaking on the metal bed frames, feel the cling of every microbe on non-sterile surfaces, feel microscopic patch of skin flake off every person’s body, feel the ka-thunk ka-thunk ka-thunk of every heartbeat. It’s hard to sort and hard to interpret. A massive wall of noise beyond auditory.

But he focuses, channels the input as much as he can, and interprets like Rachel taught him — like picking up a handful of silt and focusing on one grain of sand at a time. One person out of the masses — one input at a time.

Sweat, gathering in the palms of his hands, chock full of DHEA and adrenaline. Pinpriked with serotonin and a sprinkling of cortisol. Elevated heart rate, barely so; increased blood pressure. Fourteen hundred hair follicle deaths. Minor lactic acid buildup in the muscles. Contracted veins and capillaries.

“You’re feeling guilty,” Will guesses.

Nico gapes.

“How did you — there’s no possible way you — lucky guess,” he lands on eventually.

“Stress is just pouring off of you, man,” Will says, holding back a small smile, “I can feel it.”

Ha. If only he knew.

“Whatever. I just —”

Will waits, tucking away the last of the half-used bottles. They’re going to have to start rationing nectar, soon. And he might have Nico cut some bandages if he’s up for it, tomorrow; it’ll save him some time before Chris’s surgery.

“You just?”

Nico gestures helplessly at where Will is finishing up the last of the inventory. “There are a dozen more deserving people than me of this bed, I can’t —”

“You’re important too, you know.”

The click of Nico’s jaw snapping shut rings throughout the quiet infirmary. It’s just barely louder than sleeping patients shifting in the cots, and a little quieter than Miranda’s snoring.

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Hesitation. Cortisol and adrenaline, again, even higher heart rate.

“…Yes?”

Hm. Interesting.

“You’re telling the truth,” Will muses. He tilts his head. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

The immediate honesty in Nico’s voice is flattering. Will smiles, and he flushes, slightly.

Serotonin flash. Salivary gland inhibition.

Interesting.

“Listen to me, then: you’re important. And you’re still dangerously exhausted — medically exhausted. You’re a step and a half away from a coma, dude. You need this bed as much as anyone else here.”

“There are stab wounds in some of them,” Nico argues. “And missing limbs and slash marks and —”

“And they’re all stable,” Will interrupts. He raises a challenging eyebrow. “D’you think I maybe know what I’m doing after three years of this, Nico? I know how to triage. Is anyone close to death?”

Nico purses his lips. “No.”

“Right.” Will shrugs. “I know you’ve been teetering on the edge of fading, which isn’t great. The only reason I waited until now to get you in here was because I had people in worse condition. They’re stable now — and so I have space to prioritize you. Okay?”

Slowly, Nico nods. Gut serotonin and heavy endorphin release — good.

“Okay,” he says quietly.

Truth.

“You’ll sleep?”

A ghost — ha — of a smile flashes on his face. “Yeah, you nag, I’ll sleep.”

“That’s all I ask,” Will responds, meeting his smile. “Night, Nico.”

“Goodnight.” He hesitates. “Thank you, Will.”

Will grins wider.

“Anytime.”

[persevereforahappyending]

Maybe in Another Life |6|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Major Titans Curse SPOILERS

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

You silently moved through the training course, slashing your sword when you heard a training dummy swing out from one of the trees. The grains of sand stung your face, the only proof you needed that you hit your target. A spring mechanism sounded, making you whip around and slash your sword down, slashing the training dummy across the chest. Sand continued to pour out of the dummy as you moved one foot at a time, using your ears to pick up any more attacks. One final dummy dropped down from the tree, without hesitating you slashed your sword, slashed it again on the other side, and then stabbed it through the chest as your final move.

When you ripped off your blindfold you saw training dummies hanging limply from trees, sand continuing to pour out of some of them. The first dummy that came flying at you was laid on the ground, a gash in its side, you had nearly cut the dummy in half, it was held together by only a few strings of fabric on one side. The next dummy that sprang up was still tied to the wood plank and spring fixture, a giant gash across its chest, just like you figured. The final dummy that had swung down from the top of the trees only had the top half still connected to the rope, the bottom half was shredded apart on the ground. The two lashes you did across the chest didn’t quite do it it seemed, but the final stab is what finally separated the bottom from the top.

Camp Half-Blood had a section of the woods set aside specifically for training. The best training was sparring or hands on, fighting others. This was the next best thing in camp though, the Hephaestus kids set up all the gadgets and fixtures, flinging out targets or sparring dummies for someone to train with. You entered the area, but never knew what would be thrown at you, the targets could pop out from trees, drop down from the sky, or even pop up from the ground. There are times when you could be walking through the area with nothing popping up for a few minutes, then all of a sudden target after target could pop up. The training area was meant to give campers an idea of what it would be like in the field because in the field you never knew what was coming next.

It had only been a few days since Clarisse almost kissed you, since you almost kissed her. You had been avoiding her ever since, you had been avoiding everyone actually. You still slept in the cabin, but you found yourself stumbling through the door when all your sisters were already asleep and then waking up hours before they did. You would only really acknowledge them when they directly talked to you, when they asked if you wanted to spar you would find an excuse and brush them off.

You couldn’t believe you had almost kissed Clarisse, that you had wanted to kiss her. You had never felt that kind of desire in all your years on earth. You kept replaying every interaction you had with her from the moment you first met her when you returned Silena’s camp necklace to the moment the two of you almost kissed. You decided you had been attracted to Clarisse the moment you met her, you thought it had just been your competitive nature at first, that’s what it usually was. When you met someone who was a challenge you’d compete against them, beat them, then it would be over. Not with Clarisse though, you had beaten her a few times, but you kept coming back to her.

You weren’t sure how you could ever face Artemis again. You didn’t technically break any of her rules, you didn’t technically break your vow, but you almost had. There was a part of you that had wanted to break the vow in the moment, if you hadn’t, you never would have leaned in. The only reason you stopped it from happening was because you realized what you were about to do, and Zoe and Artemis’s disappointed faces appeared in your head. Phoebe already knew something was up, there was no way Zoe and Artemis wouldn’t figure it out.

Artemis liked you; you were one of her best, besides Zoe you had been at her side the longest. You were always devoted to Artemis, following her every order without question. You hoped that would buy you some forgiveness, Artemis didn’t tend to be forgiving to those who betrayed her. Though you didn’t technically betray her, it was a grey area, you almost had, you had wanted to, to you that was enough reason for Artemis to punish you. She’d probably turn you into an animal like the others and spend another thousand years hunting you down.

“You’re avoiding Clarisse,” someone said, popping out of the woods as you made your way back to camp.

“What the…” you said, whipping around to see Silena. “I’m not avoiding anyone,” you mumbled, continuing your walk back to camp.

You heard Silena let out a groan, you could picture the eyeroll she was certainly giving you. “Yes, you are. Why? You guys were fine after I left you guys to hang out with Charlie.” You glanced back, seeing a light blush decorating Silena’s cheeks as her eyes shifted to look at the ground.

“Clarisse didn’t tell you?” you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Clarisse and Silena were best friends, Silena was the daughter of Aphrodite, you figured if Clarisse would talk to anyone about what happened, what almost happened, between the two of you, it would be with Silena.

“No!” Silena let out a dramatic sigh. She seemed to be over her daydreaming over Beckendorf. “I asked and she just brushed me off, saying nothing was going on.” Silena stopped in her tracks, you looked back again, seeing her stare at you with wide eyes, making you instantly turn and continue walking. “Like you just said. Which means something is going on. Something happened after I left the two of you at the bonfire,” she rambled, seeming to be talking more to herself than you. “What happened?” she asked, appearing right by your side. You looked at her and back to where she had been standing, wondering when she had gotten so fast.

“Nothing happened!” you said defensively, you knew you responded to quickly. You swallowed, looking away from Silena. “Nothing happened,” you said calmer than before.

Silena narrowed her eyes. She looked you up and down making you fidget, still refusing to look at her. You stared down monsters without blinking, you talked back to gods, but you couldn’t meet the eyes of a daughter of Aphrodite. “Something almost happened,” she said.

You finally glanced at Silena. You didn’t answer her verbally, you just dropped your eyes to the floor, hoping that would be enough. You flinched when you felt an arm rest on your shoulder, your eyes followed the arm from your shoulder to Silena. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “It’s okay.”

You nodded, staring into Silena’s kind eyes. She was no longer pushing and trying to dig up information on her friend. You knew she had the best intentions, as a daughter of Aphrodite she probably sensed something between you and Clarisse that would explain all the weird looks she kept giving you two. She seemed to understand how much of a struggle this was for you, whether she understood the gravity of a Hunter falling for someone or something you didn’t know, she at least understood you didn’t want to talk about it and despite not knowing what actually happened she seemed to accept that you needed time to process it. She gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze before leaving you with your thoughts.

The rest of the day you walked around camp, attempting to train. Every weapon you picked up didn’t last long, your mind was to consumed with Clarisse to focus on your movements. You only stopped by the dining pavilion to grab a snack at dinner time, not even sparing the Ares table a glance. You could feel Clarisse’s eyes on you as you grabbed your apple, and you caught Silena’s eye as you walked out of the pavilion towards the woods. You needed to clear your head and you knew just the spot to go to.

Despite only being there once you followed the path to the spot by the creek, Clarisse’s spot, as if you walked it all the time. It seemed counterproductive to go to Clarisse’s favorite spot when you were trying to get your mind off of Clarisse but it’s the only place you fully felt at peace. All the times you’d visited camp, over all the years, the closest you got to peace was in the cabin, but it wasn’t true peace, being at Clarisse’s spot brought you true peace though, it felt like being out in the woods with your sisters and goddess.

You sat on the rock, watching the rushing water of the creek under the moonlight. You looked at the moon, you usually never felt closer to your goddess than under the moon but now it felt like she was watching over your shoulder, as if she knew what you were thinking. You didn’t even know what you were thinking, you took an oath, you pledged your life, your loyalty, to Artemis a long time ago, you had no intention of breaking that. Your feelings for Clarisse, if one could even call them that, were new, it was just a crush, a crush didn’t mean anything, you weren’t about to break your vow and betray Artemis over a crush.

You jumped when you heard a twig snap, you whipped around to see Clarisse coming out of the woods. She was frozen, looking down at the foot that had stepped on the twig before looking up at you. You could see her mouth partly open as if she were going to say something, but no words came out.

You stared at her for a moment, she looked quite pretty under the moonlight. You hated yourself for thinking that, you needed to get back to Artemis, once you left camp and were back on the hunt, you wouldn’t be consumed with thoughts of Clarisse, your feelings would die. You got up, intending to make your way back to camp and avoid Clarisse until it was time to leave.

“Wait,” Clarisse said as soon as you started moving.

Despite the desire to avoid her, to do everything in your power to kill your developing feelings, you stopped.

You watched Clarisse, waiting to see what she wanted, you truly didn’t know where her head was at during this whole situation. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. You tilted your head, that was definitely not something you were expecting.

“I never should have…” she let out a shaky breath. “You’re a Hunter,” her voice wavered just barely. “I know better. So, I’m sorry for what almost happened at the bonfire. I never meant to pressure you or anything.”

You looked down at the ground, unable to continue looking Clarisse in the eye. “You didn’t pressure me,” you finally mumbled out.

“Oh,” Clarisse breathed out.

“But I am a Hunter,” you said confidently. “And I am loyal to my goddess.” Clarisse nodded, you could tell she wanted to look away, but she refused and continued to hold your eye contact. “I will not betray my oath.”

“I understand,” Clarisse’s voice sounded raspy. She quickly cleared her throat. “If friendship is all that you can give then I would be honored.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle for the first time since the bonfire, shaking your head at Clarisse’s words. “Friends,” you nodded.

You knew you felt more that friendship for the daughter of Ares but that is all you’d ever allow the two of you to be. You wouldn’t betray Artemis that way, you wouldn’t do that to your sisters. It was for the best for everyone if the two of you were only friends. Allowing something more to develop would only end in tragedy for you and heartbreak for her.

“Silena will be disappointed,” you joked, you couldn’t help but try and break the tension. Ever since you met Clarisse things had felt effortless, the two of you just clicked in your own way but after the bonfire, despite avoiding each other, you only felt on edge, like you lost the thing the two of you had.

Clarisse let out a groan. “Did she talk to you?” she sighed, giving one of her classic eyerolls.

You chuckled. “Jumped me right after my training session.”

Clarisse crossed her arms, grumbling something you couldn’t decipher. “It’s got to be nice knowing she cares so much,” you said.

“More like annoying,” Clarisse snarked.

You just laughed at Clarisse as you made your way off the rocks, nodding at her to follow. The two of you walked back to camp in a comfortable silence. When the two of you finally emerged from the woods the camp was quiet, there was no campfire that night and it seemed like most of the campers had turned in for the night. Nothing had to be said as the two of you started walking towards the cabins and you decided not to comment on how Clarisse seemed to be taking the long way around to her cabin, meaning you’d pass the Artemis cabin first.

“Wow,” Clarisse whispered. You stopped in your tracks when Clarisse was no longer beside you, you turned around with a furrowed brow as you saw her staring up at the sky. “I’ve never seen the stars so bright.”

You looked up, seeing that the stars were in fact brighter than they usually were. You scrunched your brow, you had been all over the world, you slept under the open sky countless times for centuries and you had never seen the stars so bright. “I know I don’t know constellations,” Clarisse started. “But is that-”

Your breath caught in your throat. Clarisse must have heard you because she stopped mid-sentence and was looking at you with concern. You couldn’t pay her any mind though, you were to focused on the stars, specifically the new constellation that seemed to be in the sky. Your heart dropped; the constellation looked like a girl with a bow running across the sky. You took your eyes off the sky, they were now filled with unshed tears, you weren’t looking at Clarisse though, you were looking past her. Clarisse turned around when she realized you weren’t looking at her. Behind her stood Artemis safe and sound in all her glory, but with a sadness you knew all too well on her face.

Without another word you moved past Clarisse, making your way to your goddess’s side. She offered you a sad smile when you got in front of her. “Zoe,” you rasped out, but it hadn’t been a question, you both knew that.

Artemis gave a small nod. You squeezed your eyes shut, dropping your head to the ground, you refused to let the tears fall. You felt the warm hand of your goddess rest on your shoulder. “I must go to Olympus,” Artemis spoke softly. “I apologize for leaving you with this.” You nodded, a sniffle escaping your nose.

“I need you to gather the others,” she said, her tone unchanging, but you were listening more intently, she was giving you your next orders. “I know it’s not enough time but take the night to grieve.” You nodded; you were going to have to tell the others. “Be ready to leave by daybreak, Thalia will greet you.” You sucked in a breath at Thalia’s name, you knew what that meant, it had to be done though.

“Yes, my goddess,” you whispered. You lifted your head, looking Artemis in the eye, giving her a final nod. You continued to watch on confidently as Artemis disappeared in a bright white light.

After she was gone you let out a shaky breath, your tears slowly left your eyes as you collapsed to your knees. You felt Clarisse’s presence behind you, you appreciated that she didn’t try to comfort you. You continued to release your tears for your fallen sister, for Zoe. After a few minutes you took a couple deep breaths, composing yourself as you pulled yourself back to your feet, prepared to inform the other Hunters of your fallen leader.

Taglist: @cxcilla @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world

[thatoneguydownthestreet]

Hey so how would lilia feel about apocalypse yuu and the obvious world ending war and after effects from where yuu is from?

Thank you for feeding us apocalypse yuu <3

I started maniacally laughing as soon as I read the name lilia

FEM ALIGNED DNI

How Lilia Vanrouge reacts to the war and its effects: 

Lilia would say your relationship was pretty good. As nameless and as vague as it was. It was...peaceful. 

It was nice.

You were learning to trust people, to trust him. To let your guard down just a little bit more each day. To speak your mind and make decisions and to just simply walk with him without looking over your shoulder every few seconds. 

He’ll never forget that feeling of happiness and relief when you fell asleep with him right there next to you for the first time, or when you saw him enter a room and he saw your shoulders drop just that much. 

Once, in the pop music club room, Cater had asked him how he got you to relax around him so easily. He only gave a small chuckle and a vague response, as he himself didn’t truly know at the time. 

He still doesn’t. only having a few loose theories here and there, but he is grateful to be able to know you just a little bit more than the average person. To be able to live this long to see you come here, to this world, scared and confused and hopelessly, utterly lost, and then to see you start to really live for the first time.

He hopes he hopes that he’ll be blessed enough to live to see you thrive. 

Honestly? he thinks it’s because of something simple. So, so simple

He listens.

Not to say the others don’t of course, they listen!

they just ...don’t really believe you. 

Lilia doesn’t blame them, honestly.

It truly feels like you exaggerate your past and lack of knowledge at times.

The most obvious example he can think of is when epel, that pretty first year boy, gifted you one of those beautiful red apples that grew on his parents farm, only for you to look at it with confusion and distrust. 

You didn’t know what an apple was.

You didn’t know what most fruits were period. (Or cheese, or most meats,or most vegetables, he thinks he saw you reboot like an old computer the first time you saw milk) Often confusing the names and refusing to eat them if you forgot what they were. 

It was at that point where he could tell your rag tag little group of friends started to doubt your words. Just a bit.

He would have too, if not for the clear, heavy distress that simply couldn’t be faked that was ever so evident on your face when he'd asked.

“Perfect, do you really not know what any of these fruits are”, he has taken extra care to keep this conversation playful. He wasn’t trying to embarrass you after all. 

You simply huffed, a bit of frustration showing. 

Lilia ignored the little happy spark he got from seeing you show what you were feeling. You were getting better at that.

“Of course I don’t! we don’t have fresh fruit in the tunnels! Not to mention things like "cheese" and dont even get me started on good meat!”, you said it like it so obvious...

You never explained what the tunnels were. But lilia could guess.

He had a bad feeling about them either way....

So yes. The others listened. But you could both see crystal clear that they took what you said with a heavy grain of salt. 

Lilia on the other hand, believed every word. Or at least tried too.

So when you asked him to swing by Ramshackle saying you wanted to show him something, how could he refuse?

Really, how could he?

....

Lilia Vanrouge didn't know what he was expecting. He knew it was probably something big, judging from your earlier tone of voice.

But this....

this was just sickening.

you sat shirtless on the floor, with your arms out in the air in front of you. 

with your scars on full display. 

there were (oh great seven) there were slash marks all across your chest. Ragged and uneven and ugly. Looking like whatever cut them in took extra care to truly rip and tear your flesh apart.

There were burn marks on your shoulders and your stomach. Looking like they came from both fire and electricity. The electric burns spiderwebbing their way up the side of your neck and around your sides.

There were what looked to be claw marks and dog bites on your stomach as well, like you were almost frantically mauled to death and just barely made it out with your life.

There was a circular hole he didn't know the cause of on both sides of your right forearm, the underside scar being in the same spot but significantly worse.

There were like deep (deep) bruises that he could see everywhere on your body.

and then there were the marks on your back....

There were whip marks and lashes absolutely everywhere. Slashed across every which way, overlapping with each other and digging into your flesh. there were a few places that he swore had less skin than others. and oh God some of them only looked a few months old. 

Some of them were fresh when you came here.

Lilia didn’t know what the rest of your body looked like, but he already knew that your back was in the worst condition out of everything.

A small whimper snapped him out of his thoughts.

You were still on the floor, now sifting slightly, like you were embarrassed.

Embarrassed. What an odd little human.

Lilia immediately got down on the floor and sat in front of you, dust and possible bugs be damned.

He didn't touch you, only looking at your face and tried to make eye contact.

He tried his best to avoid looking at your neck. The lighting in this old dorm was bad but he swore he could still see a slash-

"Y/N....can you please look at me?", gentle. Just keep the tone gentle for now.

You still looked away from him. Lilia sighed.

Gently, oh so gently, he brought his hand to your face and slowly turned you head towards him.

You didn't flinch. Not once! And if lilia silently celebrated this feat later? Well, that was his business, and his alone.

Your eyes held a hint of fear when you looked at him. Fear of rejection.

Why would he ever push you away for something like this?

...Did someone do that before?

He heard you let out a faint, shaky breath, trying to find your voice.

He still didn't say anything. Just let you take your time. He couldn't rush something like this.

So he sat there, just out of reach as to not overwhelm you, as you took a deep breath and tried to compose yourself.

"So uh...I'm sure you have questions", you tried to say it in a way that lightened the mood, but your voice came out small.

It was fine. You couldn't lighten something like this either way.

The fae infront of you looked at you with the patients of a someone who's lived a dozen lifetimes and counting, which made you relax just a bit more.

Good.

"That I do perfect, but make no mistake, you are not obligated to answer"

"No! No, I- I want you to know. I wouldn't have shown you otherwise...", your voice trailed off.

Lilia took a deep breath.

Ok. Sharing scares.

Sharing memories.

Sharing war stories.

He could do that. He's done it before hundreds of times. He could do it again.

He just...didn't want to do it with someone so young. Someone who had absolutely zero business doing any type of life or death fighting.

Unfortunately, life was a total bitch and just loved putting him in these exact situations.

"Ok...ok. so why don't you tell me about...this one first", lilia pointed to the circular hole that went through your arm. He wanted to know what caused it.

(And maybe. Just maybe, find something that could heal it)

You sighed a bit. He thinks in relief? And smiled just a tad.

"Ok... that one was caused when me and a rescue team were trying to locate one of the medics that had gone missing during a surprise raid on the southwest base.... I wasn't even supposed to be there really...", you trailed off again. Your eyes glossing over a little.

Well. That couldn't happen.

The last thing he wanted here was for you to relive any one of these scars.

"What was the medics name?", it was the only thing he could ask, really. He didn't understand much of what else you had said.

You took a deep breath. Right.

You weren't there anymore.

"Caroline. Her name was Caroline. And she has a sister named Kate.... she's the one who put in the request for her to be found. Her body, at the very least"

Lilia began to wonder what exactly happened during these "raids". And why it required children to clean up the aftermath.

"Caroline. She was the medic. Ok.... you said you weren't supposed to be there?"

You looked a little sheepish at that.

"Yeah... our base was short on explosives manufacturers so they sent me. I was still learning but apparently I knew enough to go out there anyway. Heh...yeah, it didn't turn out too well"

....explosive manufacturers?

Lilia had met and worked with plenty if mages that specialized in more.. dramatic shows of magic. Especially during the wars.

How, lilia wondered, was something like that simulated without magic?

...He didn't know if he wanted to find out.

Instead of asking what in the seven an explosive manufacturer was, he asked:

"Why did you have to go though? Surely there were other uh...people in your field? That had nore experience", he kept his tone soft, trying to keep you unaware of the anger that was slowly building in his gut.

You silently shifted where you were sitting, looking like you regretted this more and more.

Damn.

Carefully, he added, "where were the others?"

"...active combat was getting more and more rare....no one thought- I mean- we just needed farmers and hunters and medics more than we needed weapons at the time"

The look on your face was...hard to describe as you struggled to explain your past situation as quick as possible. Like you would be punished if you didn't do it fast enough.

Hm...

"Y/N...", lilia started slowly

He had an idea of what your world was like.

He had a good idea of what your world was like.

And he was hoping that he wasn't right.

Your head raised a bit. Making eye contact with him and calming down just a little. Good. But he was going to feel all the more guilty about what he was about to say.

"Were you by chance, involved in any type of warfare?"

Lilia didn't know what you'd do. He had been ready for anything. For you to scream and shout and scratch and fight. For you to try and deny what you both already knew for whatever reason.

But you never did.

Instead, you just tilted your head to the side, like a confused dog.

Then you said:

"The war ended around...50 years ago? 60? I don't know for sure. The records were all destroyed, and the elders that fought in it are quickly dying out"

Lilia breath hitched.

All those scars. All their stories. Are from the aftermath? The aftermath of a finished war is still producing what lilia believes might very well be child soldiers.

And then you spoke again.

"When I was...I think twelve? I don't know. No one really knows their age. But I was definitely around twelve. The other manufacturers with more experience and a better idea if what they're doing got sent to the northern bases. They were needed there. They wouldn't tell me why"

...

...Twelve?

"Anyways, a couple months later -or were they weeks?- some time later, Caroline went missing"

Twelve?

"And I was really all they had to send"

Twelve.

"Now that I think about it...it was probably because they could replace me well enough if it didn't go as good as it did"

Fucking TWELVE?!

"As good as it did?!", lilias voice startled you out if your own head.

You looked at him. He looked back at you with an expression of exasperated rage.

You stopped talking.

"As good-as GOOD as it did!"

"Y/N. Y/N there is no good in this! This-" He grabbed your arm. Gesturing to the old, half healed scar that had started this whole mess "-is terrible! Dammit this is a crime against morality!"

...

...oh.

You looked at your arm. At the old shot gun would you had gotten after getting your arm stuck just outside if the entrance to the tunnel you and your temporary team had taken.

You could barely even remember why you had it out in the first place.

To throw a grenade you had put together on the spot? A stick of dynamite? You didn't know.

All you knew was that it hurt.

It still does sometimes.

You looked down at your own body.

They all still do sometimes.

....

Oh God...

You looked back at lilia, and the night resumed.

None of what you said will likely never be repeated outside if the walls of Ramshakle. Not all of it at least.

You didn't tell lilia about the scars on your back. You probably never will.

That was fine.

You told him what you had to do to survive, and he told you that you shouldn't have had to do that in the first place.

There were things that were never really explained. Like guns or grenades or that old, abandoned army tank that you played when you were a child.

("So it's a car...with a Canon on it?"

"Uhhhh. Sure. Yeah")

And other things...

Well. Turns out some scenarios are seen a bit different here.

You don't your age.

That's sad. Not bormal.

You don't know who your real parents are. The high infant mortality rate in the southeast base and the tunnels surrounding it that most mothers simply give away their children to avoid the pain of burying their babies.

That's a tragedy. A horrible, horrible tragedy.

Not normal.

Just like your life.

........

As soon as he got back to Diasomnia, lilia went to check on silver. Then sebek. Then malleus.

Silver and sebek were asleep. And he could see malleus taking a walk about the dorm from his bedroom window.

They were safe. Lilia felt his shoulders drop for the first time that night.

...and then he did something he never thought he would need do again.

Slowly, lilia walked over to his desk, lighting a tall, white candle and setting out an expensive piece of meat.

Wasn't the best offering, but it'll due for now.

He hoped it would at least.

Religion had long since died out of twisted wonderland as a whole, with only a few churches and temples remaining in certain parts in the shaftlands and a few of the older families in briar valley truly practicing in this modern age. 

Even so, later that night when his dorm and his children were all sound asleep, lilia knelt beside his bed and prayed to his old god for the first time in centuries.

He could only hope that they would be answered. 

[jj-the-hobbit171]

The atmosphere was thick enough to be slashed with the sword reader leaned on. Johnny looked at them, scanning to find anything that had changed….

A lot, actually. For one the Bonnie had grown taller, and broader, something certainly from years of war and blood. Their hair had grown out, tied in a loose bun with horse hair; those clothes, you never wore those, always in lose clothing, with or glasses-wait.

“What happened to ye eye lass?” the burnet warily asked, while staring at your blind eye, with a slash over the surrounding skin…

“War…. your dead majesty, war.”

Jonny’s eyes widened as he stuttered a million questions.

“What? War? When?!” Johnny questioned in a panic.

Reader looked away, mindlessly gazing at the soldiers congregate the villagers into groups, binding them in rope, and loading the grain and cattle into trailers to send back to the center of the empire, now fortified with walls that might as well reached the heavens.

“Why did you go John?” Reader began to utter “did I d something wrong? Did I hurt you?” reader’s voice quickened.  

“I,” John had tried to answer, only to be interrupted. “You couldn’t have just said you didn’t love me, or you never wanted to be king” reader continued “I’ve known you for the whole of our lives, and on that day, I told you,” Their voice grew in a fury, like a raging fire, the stepped closer “that, I knew, I, knew, you’d never want to be king, and if you wanted, I could have gotten you out! But nooo” reader sneers, as they draw their sword “you decided to die!” their sword was lifted, but, as they nearly track the supposed to be dead patriarch, another sword clashed.

It was from a medium-sized man. Brown short hair, and brown eyes that had a little more than a metaphorical resemblance to a bear. Jonathan price. Leader of the head squadron at the war 5 years ago… the same one that accompanied the king in battle. The same one that lost their lives….

“oh,” reader said before dropping their sword in realization.

“Oh,” they chuckled, before the chuckle drew into a monstrous laugh, before turning into sobs and screams of anguish “5 years, 5 years of this bloodshed for someone who never loved me” they sobbed “lass I do,” Jonny tried to say as John slowly looked away in guilt “no you don’t Johnny” reader retorted “not me, not our son, not your mother…” you say. “no one, but yourself, and those bloody traitors you call lovers!” reader shouted, before calming down slowly “no, my husband is dead, and, you,” reader pointed at john and johnny “are traitors to the throne.” You look down, before calling for soldiers to bind the four men for treason. “Burn this village, kill the livestock, burn the crops, arrest and execute anyone born of this town, lock these men in the dungeons until I can find something to do with them,” you say to one of the soldiers, looking directly at Jonny “by order of the MacTavish clan” Hey guys! After how many months, I'm finally back in the hobbit hole! tho, I'm writing this with what little creative juise I have so bear with me, but, I'm happy to be back in my happy place.

@nes-kopi  for the wait love!

From the hobbit hole,

J.J

[lilac-5ky]

Summers with Toji(x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Today has to be one of the hottest days of the year and I’m literally dying in bed with my limbs sprawled like a starfish, but I got this random urge to write about my pookie so here I am.

Warning: Sexual content, mentions of oral (m.receiving), food kink, a ton of fluff, and not proofread at all cause I did this on phone.

Summertime!Toji who can’t stand the heat, his coping mechanism being to fill your entire fridge with popsicles and keep the AC on at full speed until the electricity bill comes and asks you to split it 70/30 in his favor.

Summertime!Toji who is forced to endure the heat after you hide all the remote controllers in the house and tell him to just open a damn window if he’s feeling that hot.

Summertime!Toji who watches you contently lick away your ice cream in front of the tv and thinks it’s an invitation for him to slide down his shorts and put his dick near your mouth.

Summertime!Toji who grins as he tells you it’s your duty to help him cool off when your tongue skills got him all hot and bothered in the first place.

Summertime!Toji who feels your icy mouth working wonders around his cock, the freeze causing his thick thighs to clench whenever he feels his tip touch the back of your throat.

Summertime!Toji who finishes your ice cream while you shoot him daggers, your nose nuzzling the unkempt hair of his base and his heavy balls slapping your jaw with each thrust,

Summertime!Toji who licks the ice cream as if it’s your pussy, giving you a taste of your own medicine when you claim you didn’t suck it like a porn star to entice him, as he accused you.

Summertime!Toji who only shares when your mouth goes hot from the work out, yanking you from the hair and forcing you to deep throat the stick before shoving his dick back in.

Summertime!Toji who asks you what your favorite flavor is and makes a mental note to buy a pint or two of your favorites to smear all over your tits and his cock head.

Summertime!Toji who cums so much you can barely keep it in your mouth, hot ropes of his creamy cum meshing with the vanilla cream dribbling down your slack jaw.

Summertime!Toji who keeps coming up with ways to deal with the heat, getting you to join him in the shower only to fuck you under the cold water.

Summertime!Toji who slaps your ass when he catches you pad around the house in your skimpiest outfits.

Summertime!Toji who gets grumpy when you suggest so much as a weekend to the beach but obliges anyway for his favorite girl.

Summertime!Toji who has every female eye staring at his back when all he wears is a pair of old fashioned swimming trunks that don’t quite hide the glory of his sculpted body and sun-kissed skin.

Summertime!Toji who pisses you off when he tries to get yourselves cheaper recliners by smiling sweetly at the part time slash teenager slash certified bimbo.

Summertime!Toji who hunts you down around the beach because you refuse to talk to him and eventually cages you in his arms, lifting your body off the sand to tickle you until you are begging for a truce.

Summertime!Toji who, after the incident, finds the best secluded spots where it’s just you and him, and the countless waves.

Summertime!Toji who tugs your top off whenever he is given the chance, keeping it in his pocket after he puts sunscreen on your back, and forces you to run after him into the water.

Summertime!Toji who loves it when you tangle your limbs around him like a little sea monkey, and press your plush tits against his hard muscles while he swims for the both of you.

Summertime!Toji who is susceptible to splash wars and impromptu kisses as you try to peel off his frown.

Summertime!Toji who swears your smile is brighter than the scorching sun above.

Summertime!Toji who bitches like an old man when he still finds grains of sand in his flip flops hours after you’ve left the beach.

Summertime!Toji who tried to build a fire so you can cook your own food, but buys you yakiniku after his 16th failed attempt.

Summertime!Toji who promises that next summer he’ll have money for something better than a cheap motel by the highway, knowing next year will be crappier than the last one.

Summertime!Toji who stubbornly cuddles you even at the highest temperatures.

Summertime!Toji who swears summer is his least favorite season of the year, but learned to treasure his every summery with you.

[akunoniwa]

Knife Prty

AN: gang. I've not published anything in like. Three months. For me, this ""piece"" is more of a way to break the ice of my mind that's since frozen over. Overall, I am very reluctant to write, let alone publish, Astarion for various reasons, but I was listening to Deftones one day and was feeling devious.

Synopsis: In which you hold the memory of your first encounter with him very near and dear... He uses it to his tactical advantage...

Pairing: Astarion x fem!reader/tav

Warnings: MDNI, knife play, most definitely would not recommend fucking or getting fucked with a knife handle, sorry it sounded hot,

WC: ~2.3k

A knife balanced against your neck, a familiar blade, increasingly warm with your heat. It was a grave distraction as it teetered threateningly along the grain of your skin, but you’d made a purposeful mistake of telling Astarion how nice it felt to be not just beneath him, but his dagger. It was objectively dangerous, the feeling wasn’t conveniently replicated, thus it felt… real this way, vital. His hand had an instinctual way of slotting itself between your thighs, the heart of his palm blanketing your blooming clit. Two fingers coaxing slick sweetness and moans from your body that twined around him.

“Is this…” Your hand searched behind you to grab at his right upper thigh, pulling him into your backside, “...What you needed, my love?” His words, shrouded in his misty tone, implored you in tandem with his hand.

He was in too many lovely places at once, your muscles slacking in unison as you both stood bare in the middle of the large bath in the vacant House of Hope. Fresh killers you were, in need of a cleanse in every sense, but something about finally taking out Raphael and his accessories had you both at peculiar odds. Astarion was made to witness your vulnerabilities to Haarlep, and despite knowing you well at this point, he found he was unable to accept that you were actually susceptible to its charm. Even if that weren’t the case, he wasn’t about to say he was basking happily in the image of you being ridden by an incubus who ought to just be Raphael himself. The more he was made to think about it after the fact– fighting beasts to save Hope, slashing down Raphael himself… His mind deviated drunkenly back to your body… You. With someone… Something else. 

He decided he’d have you in that very spot, right in the Hells where his heat in this moment would make even the waters here boil over.

You two haven't really spoken about what happened in the graveyard, perhaps enough had already been said and done. It’d been weeks since, and no matter how paramount it was to you both, in different respects, Cazador had virtually nothing to do with the looming Elder Brain.

But Astarion’s declaration of his new ‘life’, or an amendment of his living death, still prevailed. This revitalization of sorts stood prominently, following him decisively like a shadow he didn’t have. Constant proof of him as him.

The sharpened metal at your throat was an afterthought to you at the time, but a thought nonetheless– one Astarion had hung onto dearly. Ever since you’d told him in a passing moment that you found your first encounter with him haunting your more unsavory moments, he couldn’t rid himself of the reminders.

“Gods, yes…” You shamelessly ground your hips into his beckoning hand, requiring his attention like nothing else. He was, needless to say, extremely turned on by you in any case, but here… Like this, adorned with his blade that had just slain that imbecilic devil, in addition to his enslaver just weeks prior. He could hardly allow his mind to wander trying to understand, but here his knife somehow signified something of untouchable worth. Trust… A morbid reenactment, sure, but how he adored you so, obsessed with how he was able to thrill you in such an asinine way.

You could feel him straining against you, that familiar sensation of his needing you… Though, he enthusiastically opted to see how long he could play with you, guiding your orgasm through the thickets of his teasing maze.

“Sick little love… I can feel you pulsing against my fingers, so fucking hot and wet.” His remark was serpentine and crude, hips rutting his cock ever so slightly between the swells of your perched ass, “How many times have you thought about this…?” He needed to sift through your tainted mind, needed to hear of your hunger, starvation, for him, as much as he tries to pretend he doesn’t love the assurance. Does your mind, too, think of him like he does of you? Remind me… He’d think– You must keep reminding him of how he tears your sanity to such decadent shreds.

His pace slowed only to allow for precision, his middle and ring finger hooked inside you knowingly as he worked at your left shoulder with his tongue.

“Fuck…” Your small, overwhelmed squeak indicated he was doing exactly as he should, rubbing the velvety spot just past the threshold of your cunt that made you shudder in his embrace, “I don’t even know…” He felt your head fall back on his right shoulder in blissful dejection, “It was more than a few.”

“My routine of devouring you isn’t enough, hm?” His fine-pointed fangs indented your skin on cue, not yet drawing blood.

You let out a breathy laugh, “Admittedly… I was nervous about the pain at first, but… You always manage to make such reckless things feel so good…”

“You drive me insane, darling. Utterly insane. Especially when you say deranged things like that…” Still hooked, his fingers sped up with dedicated intent to make you cum, skin sticky with sweat as you were sealed against his front, “A knife to your sweet neck is all it takes to make you drip down my hand?” You made him feel murderous, vulturine… Alive? Your adorable reactions picked at all the right places within him like crows.

You hummed a dizzied whine in time with his firm pace, a rush of everything creating a cyclone deep within your core, “But, you’re holding it…”

“That I am, dear. Watching you fucking lose yourself like this is truly a sight to behold.” The knife pressed its taunts as he fucked into you while you tried to keep steady.

“Don’t stop…”  You couldn’t and didn’t want to fixate on anything else but the pleasure he was giving you, “Please…” Your free hand subconsciously rushed to blanket the one that worked at your beckoning hole, making him gleam beneath your needy touch. His precum began to gradually garnish your backside– Why in the Hells would he stop now?

He need not hide his satisfaction, never with you, a grin causing his words to fray upward with lust, “Pretty, pretty thing… Cum for me.” He sprinkled your shoulder with nipping kisses once more, “ Give it all to me…” He crooned right into your center, his tone broad and smoky.

Hardly needing much past a syllable, your violent shakes when you cum were one of his favorite things to witness, let alone cause. His hand was caught in a vice grip between the tide of your plush thighs as he continued to press into that perfect spot as you came, your moans resonating through his cock. He loved the way your nails dug into the back of his thigh to bring him impossibly close, the other hand around his wrist… Holding onto him for all that you were worth in this moment.

“So divine…” He dragged the knife torturously down your chest, its fine point flicking just barely at your nipples, circling them, “I know how much you like when I tease here…”

You wanted to cry out, every nerve ablaze after your orgasm as you warmed his coated fingers. Instead, you gnawed on another dulled groan in your mouth as the metal tip tickled your areola.

“Let me hear you, darling… There’s no one around.” His voice enveloped your mind like a lecherous fog, words enunciated as they cut into you, “I’d almost say that’s a shame, as I can’t decide if I’d want everyone in all the Hells and beyond to hear your little noises, or have you all to myself.”

“Astarion…” He was breaking you, collecting your pieces, and puzzling your lust-drunk self back together as he pleased.

It seems everyone at camp has been reaching the apex of their struggles at once, especially since reaching Baldur’s Gate– seeing an unwanted face or two is inevitable. It’s been a smothered blur, and to put it more plainly, you and Astarion have not really been afforded time together. It was absurd, fighting almost toe to steel toe beside him, but this was the case day in, day out, everything else had to wait. You’d begun to miss him… You’d tried to brush it off, perhaps it was just you and some arrangement of irrational justifications. His biting quips seemed more distant, even when he held you after a long outing, he felt… Far. And the only reason for this was the non-squirmy affliction you both shared for each other. Of course, he missed you dreadfully. Hence his body currently being superimposed onto yours, an eclipse of raw, splitting desire.

“Give me more… Say it again.” He urged feverishly as your hips still twitched here and there, your movements waking through him.

“Astarion.” You trailed a caressing hand up the arm he latched around your front, just listening to what little was left in your mind. You found the hilt of his dagger gripped in his other hand, guiding it so the fuller would rest on your flattened tongue. Licking a careful stripe towards the tip, he watched in an attentive daze, your projections onto the knife translating to his groin just as you’d hoped.

“Yes, darling…” He finally pulled his fingers from you, experimentally wiping your slick onto the knife. You could feel his smirk radiating beside your cheek as he tugged the blade to his lips. Making sure to secure your eyes, you watched as he tasted your sweet mixed with metallic, making you writhe beneath the image before you.

Swiftly, as he does, he flipped the dagger to lead the rounded pommel down over your stomach, slowly flowing over your pelvis, ultimately pressing down on your clit. He managed to grip it in a way so as to avoid cutting his own hand, running the ball between your swollen folds.

“Mm, I wanna touch you…” You whined pitifully as you writhed, wanting to make him feel as good as he was making you feel, lavish him in pleasure as you’d been ceaselessly imagining.

The moonlight was damn near blinding that night on the overgrown plot of his not-so-restful place… How he pushed you back, fiercely, claiming everything as his own– most importantly, himself. You almost giggle at your spontaneous recollections, how forceful yet tediously careful his movements were as he made it no secret that he’d take you then and there. How his knee swiftly presented you to him, his relentless, passionate kisses…–

“Perhaps I want to be sure that we are on the same page…” The pommel grazed your quivering center, rolling your arousal to a fro, insinuating his intent, “Do you think I enjoyed watching you moan beneath that infernal wretch?”

“I was truly trying to sort out the hammer business… I can’t say I was willingly enthused, he had to charm me just to get me to consider taking my clothes off.”

“It was certainly a… production… But I must be frank, it was not something I ever dreamed of being made to see. How that… Thing nearly made you succumb to its little tricks.” He angled the dagger so as to push it inside you, just a bit, dragging out another melodious moan from you.

He chuckled at this, deciding to drop the matter for the moment, “My filthy darling… You wouldn’t cum around my dagger, would you?” He chided, knowing full well that he’d see to that being the case, “It seems… You just need to be fucked, no matter how.”

The hilt was thick, stretching you generously as its smooth leather pushed further into you. He gripped the guard to avoid splitting his hand, but the risk of a small injury paled in comparison to this, “Maybe there’s something about Avernus, this house… I just feel… Hot,” You debated momentarily, wondering if it’d be more of a burden to speak from what little of your mind remained, “...And I didn’t want to bother you by telling you that I missed you. In any capacity… I’ve missed all of you.” You forced coherence despite him establishing a cyclic rhythm.

He kissed your cheek a few times in response, though found himself quickly perplexed, “Bother me– Darling, never. You’ve… Missed me?”

“It’s been fighting nonstop for weeks, and save for… A few instances, the last few months. All I’ve wanted was to just be able to relax with you, to truly just be.”

“You’re going to tell me this as I’ve buried a dagger handle inside you? You’ve got peculiar timing, my sweet.” His movements subconsciously stilled as he was looking to you for an unknown kind of answer.

“Gods–” You clenched as he kissed your neck this time, allowing his fangs to indent just enough to make themselves known again, “I’m sorry… I guess I could’ve said it any time… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No, no, no– love, so could I,” He opted to always shower you with every pet name he could recite, perhaps as a habitual hedge, perhaps to drown you in his doting, “I’ve most certainly missed you, too.” He could feel you attempting to move onto the dagger, sending his body and estranged soul into a frenzy, “So, so much…” He found he just wanted to make you scream, in this particular instance. He’d been rearranging the meaning of intimacy in his mind slowly but steadily alongside you. While harrowing associations would inevitably remain attached to the act, he wanted to overwrite as much of that as he could with images of you. Of true rejoice, pleasure. He swore, his cock twitched upon reminding himself just how good you make him feel, body and beyond.