#sorry i know this is depressing but like. tumblr kind of feels like the last line of defense to me here yknow

[blueskittlesart]

not to be dramatic but it really is beginning to feel like there isn’t a single safe place on the internet for trans people anymore. 2 years ago i could post something about trans pride and have nothing but positivity in my notes but this year i end up fending off terfs for the crime of a post where i called a fictional character trans getting more than 5k. tumblr used to be a safe haven from this shit. it’s disturbing to see the flood of terfs to this website and the way staff openly refuses to do anything about them. there’s only so much i can do when half the fucking userbase wants me dead. its tiring & i wish staff would fucking do better

[johndonneswife]

are you and Ayesha planning on having kids? 🥺

nope never ever!

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite

Chapter 1

It's here! This is the first chapter of my first real fic here on tumblr! I am not the best writer so please be kind :')

Series masterlist

Alternate Universe SKZ!

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

Previous - Next

Summary: There's no turning back now, not when you know what you left behind. A dangerous situation now replaced with another. After the omegas disappeared you have to extra careful, especially now that you have left your pack and family.  What happens when your car breaks down on another pack's land?

Series Warnings: Fem reader, Smut, verryyyy nsfw, chan x reader, OT8 x reader, A/B/O, m/m/f smut, possessive! SKZ, possessive! Reader, anxiety and depression, fluff, angst, virgin!reader, cursing, violence, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, Sub reader x mostly dom SKZ, misogyny and sexism, Ateez are depicted as terrible people (sorry Atiny!) 

Chapter warnings: Angst, anxiety, reader is VERY sad, minor violence, cursing, A/B/O (pls let me know if I missed any!)

MDNI 18+

Wc: 2400 ish

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters were designed after. The views and actions of these characters do not reflect the real Stray Kids in any way shape or form. This is all for fun let’s keep it that way please. 

You should have known better. All those hushed conversations your parents have been having, all the phone calls your father excused himself to take, even the trip to your packs doctor for a very extensive physical. None of it set off your mental alarm bells and that made you feel so stupid. But how could you have known that your own parents, the people who raised you and were supposed to have your best interest at heart, were planning on selling you off to the highest bidder once you became mature enough. 

That's life for omegas these days, though. After a worldwide virus a few decades ago, omegas just stopped being born. The virus wiped the gene out almost completely, leaving a very small percentage of omegas left. Unluckily for you, you happened to be the only omega born in your area in the last 40 years. That made you highly sought after by alphas, especially dangerous ones. 

Your hands were still shaking. It had been hours since you escaped your parents house in your car, yet you couldn't get your hands to stop shaking with the immense adrenaline you’re feeling. You had no plan, no money, nowhere to go and no one to help you. Your only friend, Ash, was a beta girl in your pack and as much as you liked her you knew she could do nothing to save you now. At least your car had a full tank of gas, the only good thing your father had done for you was allow you to drive to Ash's house on occasion.

All the adrenaline was starting to wear off as you drove, the realization of what this would mean for you and your life now starting to sink in. The constant looking over your shoulder, the uneasiness you will always feel, it was almost too much to handle. No. What would have been too much to handle is letting that filthy man get his hands on you. Kim Hongjoong.You had heard about the things that alpha had done to claim power over his pack. From sabotage to murder, none of it was good. From what you could gather he was on the search for an omega to complete his pack and somehow had heard whispers about you. The only known omega within a few hundred miles. He wanted an omega to raise his children and help him lead his pack and would do anything to get his hands on one; whatever necessary. 

You imagine the sum of money he offered your parents was just too good for them to pass up on. Your alpha father was too proud to accept anything less than a hefty amount. Your mother was an omega through and through. Obedient and submissive to her alpha. Just as she raised you to be. She herself was a rare omega. Though back in her day the omega population wasn't as low as it is now. Now the numbers have fallen to less than 0.2%. Your mother molded you into the perfect little doll. Almost. Never in your wildest dreams did she or your father imagine you, their doll, would be disobeying and running from all you had ever known, yet here you are. That's what real fear does to a person. Fight or flight. All your life you had been all bark and no bite. Now this is your way of biting back.

All you had to your name was this old car (technically your fathers), an old backpack with a few changes of clothes, and couple cans of spaghetti o’s. Luckily this car had an old map in the glovebox. Better than nothing especially since you had no gps and no phone. You knew better than to take the main roads. Your pack would undoubtedly be looking for you and the car. Back roads it was then.

You couldn't tell exactly how many hours you had been driving at this point, too caught up in your mind to really pay attention to the time but by now it had gotten very dark and you found yourself on this old road going through a small town in the woods. You vaguely remember passing through the small community about half an hour ago. Of course you hadn't stopped in the town in fear of being noticed or recognised somehow. But now you’re wishing you had stopped at that little gas station and at least tried to get an ounce of gas with the spare change left in the middle console. The car was officially running out of gas. In the middle of nowhere. Just your luck. 

 “Are you serious?” You asked no one with tears starting to fill your eyes.

Feeling the difference in the vehicle causes you to pull off to the side of the road with a groan. You know it won't be going any further with the way it just gives up there on the side. Turning off the car and leaning your head against the wheel you let out a light sob. This wasn't the life you had envisioned for yourself. Once upon a time you thought one day you would meet your true mate, a caring alpha who would love you for you and want to make you happy. Seems as though that was just a fairytale after all. Even your parents weren’t true mates. They just settled for each other. You knew you couldn’t let that be you. You wouldn’t settle, especially not for a vile man you didn't love. 

It was too late now to leave the car. This is where you will be staying for the night. Good thing it was late spring and not winter or you would freeze out here. Once your tears have slowed and the sobs have ceased you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“You will be ok.” You repeat to yourself a few times. “You will be ok. You will be ok.” 

Will you though? It didn't matter. You had to be. With one last sigh you locked the doors and climbed into the backseat of the old car. Its seats were worn and uncomfortable but it somehow felt comforting. It felt like the last remaining bit you had from childhood. When things were simple for you. Were things ever that simple as you remembered it being though? Before presenting as an omega when you were 16 things were definitely simple. You had assumed along with everyone else that you would be a beta and go on to have a normal life. Sure sometimes you were a little agreeable and always had a gentle nature, but you had just thought you took after your mom in that aspect. Little did you know you would take after her in a different way. It wasn’t until you presented that it made sense to the pack why you were that way. It was then that the looks began from other pack members. The way their eyes would linger on you a little too hard. The way their nostrils would flare when you entered a room. It made your skin crawl thinking back.

From that point on there was no more public school for you. You were homeschooled the last few years of high school for your protection. “We're doing this to protect you not punish you, Y/N.” your father had said when he forbade you from going back to school. “You can't trust anyone these days. Not around an omega.” He was right. The thought never crossed your mind that you couldn't even trust your own parents. You wished you had been born a beta like your sister, or even an alpha like your brother. Being the youngest out of three you figured you would be like them. 

The worst part was you didn't have the suppressants you had been taking since you were a teen. They were almost impossible to come by normally, but your father had somehow gotten his hands on a steady supply and had been forcing you to take them. Another thing that was for your protection. To keep alphas from detecting you by scent. You hadn't taken any this morning before you left so you imagine your scent was going to start leaking out for any one nearby to smell. Great. Another problem for tomorrow.

Adjusting yourself on the seat to lay down as much as you could, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing. It wouldn't be long before sleep overcame you. The exhaustion of the whole ordeal catching up with you. 

__________________________________________________________

The sun peaking through the trees awoke you from your surprisingly restful slumber. It seemed to be early morning if the dew on the windows was any indication. Peeking out the window you saw nothing around. Not even any animals. Perfect. You slowly unlocked the door and crept out quietly shutting the door behind you. Taking careful steps a few yards into the thickets ahead of you and relieving yourself helped you feel a little better. You made your way back to the car and took a second to breathe. In and out. In and out. The air was crisp and refreshing and helped you clear your head. 

Now feeling a little better you noticed how bad your stomach was growling at you. Reaching into the trunk of the car you pulled out a small can of spaghetti o’s. Not your first choice of a meal but when you panic you grab what you figure will be easiest to take with you. Plus you could use a can as a weapon if needed! 

Eating was the last thing on your mind yesterday, but now you knew you could no longer put it off. Popping a can open and taking a seat on the hood of the car with a spoon you dug into the food. It was….. food . Cold and disappointing but at the same time satisfying as you had an empty stomach. 

There you were, sitting there on the old car contemplating your next move from here with now a half full can of disappointment, when you catch a scent in the air getting stronger with each passing second. It was another person, no it was people. More than one. 

Fuck

You have been found. Whether by the packs that were after you or by a stranger it didn’t matter all you felt was terror. 

There was no time to flee. Before you could even move from the hood you could feel a pair of eyes on you to the right of you. You twist your head to face the eyes that are peaking out at you from the trees ahead. 

The stranger takes a tentative step towards you and comes out from hiding and you immediately go into fight or flight. 

     With an alarmed shout “NO”, you launched the half full can of spaghetti o’s at the intruder, hitting him square in the chest and sending the cold contents all across his shirt. 

“What the fuck?!” the possible assailant yelled. 

Spotting another figure approaching the first one you threw yourself back off the hood and onto the ground, then as quickly as possible you yanked the door open to the car and jammed yourself in locking it immediately. You made yourself as small as possible as to not be seen by them but you knew the damage had been done. There was no way out of this. No gas in the tank and even if there was you had no idea where your keys had gone.  

You could hear them talking but you were too frightened to pick up any of the words except girl, mess and Alpha. Now you really felt terror. Without realizing how close they had been to you, you let out a shriek when there was a sudden knock on the window next to you. 

Not daring to look at them for even a second you yelled through the glass “Please go away! Please please I don’t deserve this!” tears filled your eyes. 

__________________________________________________________

The smell of your distress was making Seungmins and Jeongins eyes water. They had never experienced such a powerful scent before. Not even the odor from the Spaghetti Os covering Seungmins shirt would distract from the one coming from within the vehicle. The beta wanted to be mad that she had pretty much assaulted him, but at the same time couldn’t find it within himself to care much given how much pure terror he smelled coming from the young woman. The omega.  

The young alpha Jeongin felt similarly now that he had eyes on her he felt this overwhelming urge to protect. He had never encountered one before and honestly thought he never would but now that he was laying eyes on her he felt his alpha side perk up. A part of him never wanted to stop looking at her.

Honestly the boys didn’t know what to expect when they came out here to investigate the scent that had appeared on their land late into the night. They truly didn’t expect the cause to be an omega girl that was holed up on the side of a path. 

Seungmin tried knocking again, a little more timid this time so as not to frighten her more. “Excuse me, we could smell your distress. Do you need any help?” He asked slowly. 

You spared him one quick glance then shrunk into yourself again. “No thank you, please go!” 

He sighed and stepped back a few feet to look at Jeongin in amazement at the situation.  Giving him one small nod he said “ We need to call Chan.” 

__________________________________________________________

What felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, passed and you stayed in your same position. The boys had remained there but not so close to the car anymore to which you were thankful. They were quietly mumbling amongst themselves, no doubt about an omega being caught out here alone. Every so often you would move your head just slightly to peer over at them. You hadn’t noticed before in your initial panic but they were pretty cute young men. A beta and an alpha from what you could tell. Even covered in your thrown breakfast (a shame about that really) they still managed to carry themselves proudly. Though your smell is causing their faces to scrunch up, you could tell it was taking it's toll on them.

Not even a moment later after taking another look at them you could feel the change in the air as another pair of people was approaching. Not just anybody was coming this way, it was an Alpha. A very strong one at that. The smell was starting to permeate all of your senses and was quickly becoming intoxicating. 

You could sense him before he even appeared. No matter how intrigued you may be though you can’t show weakness.

 ‘Keep your head down and wait it out’ you kept telling yourself like a mantra.  

You knew he was approaching your door. It took everything in you to remain still. Then as if struck by lightning you felt your body alight like it never has before. 

“Omega..” 

(A/N: Please do not steal my writing and content! Reblogs and comments are encouraged tho 😙once again i would LOVE to hear your thoughts and theories! This has not been beta read all mistakes are my own.)

©doitforbangchan 

TAGLIST

@ihrtlix @realrintaro @meowmeeps

[joonie-beanie]

Side-Gig | [Peter B. Parker x Reader]

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter gets worried about your apparent “side-gig” and goes snooping, only to discover your side-gig is writing Spiderman smut on commission.

Contents: Fluff, Smut, Consensual Sex, Pussy Eating, Banter, Friends to Lovers???

Author’s Note: I swore off posting fics on tumblr, but since this is just a one-shot, I figured why not. I think Peter B is charming, had to write a lil smth smth for him. And by that, I mean a 7.1k wordcount fic.

You and Peter Parker are friends. Not best friends, but pretty good friends. 

You like to say you’ve looked out for each other over the years. You don’t talk all the time, but it’s kind of an unspoken promise that when one of you needs someone to lean on, the other person will be there.

Which is why, when Peter and MJ separate, you make a point of inviting Peter over for meals. 

At first, he turns you down every time you ask, and you know it’s because he’s wallowing—depressed about his situation. And that’s understandable. You can’t exactly say you know what he’s feeling, but if you put yourself in his shoes, you’re sure you’d be a little bit fucked up about everything too.

Therefore, you give him a little space—wait for things to settle and for Peter to come around. 

Except, Peter takes it all way worse than you expect—going radio silent after your third invite in two months. Then, you really start to get worried (and also a little mad that he’s ghosting you).

So, you manage to scrounge up his new address using some internet-sleuthing skills, and show up at his door. When he opens it, he’s dressed in a greasy wife-beater, worn-out gray sweats, and white socks with a hole in the toe.

“Jesus Christ, Peter.”

You spend that evening scolding Peter and letting him cry it all out—handing him tissue after tissue as he blubbers about everything on his mind. When he’s finally done, he apologizes for ignoring your last call, and thanks you for looking out for him.

With a smile, you assure him you’ll always have his back, and that now he really has to come over for dinner, because he owes you.

Laughing, Peter agrees. And luckily, he sticks to his word.

Since then, you and Peter make a point of doing dinner twice a month—typically at your place, sometimes out at a restaurant, but never at Peter’s. Not until he deep cleans his messy apartment, and you know that won’t be happening anytime soon.

Tonight, you’re at a restaurant of your choice—a local Italian joint. Peter arrives late, per normal, and you wave him over when you see him walk in the front door. He immediately spots you and hurries over, his eyes darting to the plate of bruschetta you’d ordered for the table, that now only has two pieces left.

“Aw, that’s not fair,” he says, sliding into the booth across from you. He immediately reaches for one, shoving it into his mouth. You shrug, not sorry.

“That’s what you get for always being late. And if I waited for you, I’d be hangry by now. So really, you should be thanking me.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes, picking up the menu to see what it is he wants. 

“So, how have you been? I know we just saw each other two weeks ago, but—how’s work?”

You sigh at Peter’s question, resting your chin against your palm.

“Fine, I guess. Work is cutting hours since things are slow right now, so I’m gonna be pretty strapped for cash the next month or two.”

Peter blinks at your response, staring at you over the edge of the menu.

“Should we be here then? We could just get the check now and go down the street to the bodega—”

“No—no, it’s fine,” you reassure him, taking a sip from your glass. From the look of it, Peter can tell the glass is filled with rum and coke—your simple, yet timeless go-to. 

“This is kind of my last hurrah, y’know? Gotta get one last plate of carbonara in before I’m eating ramen and eggs for the next few months.”

“I dunno about that,” Peter responds. “Eggs are pretty expensive now—you might have to settle for canned tuna.”

You roll your eyes at him, yet can’t help the little giggle that escapes you.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know,” he says with a smile.

The waitress wanders back over, and you and Peter put in your orders. Peter also opts to get a drink (after all, if you’re drinking, why shouldn’t he), and a few minutes later, a cosmopolitan is placed onto the table in front of him.

You watch him with a wide smile as he picks up the girly drink and takes a long sip—his pinky sticking out and everything.

“You and your love of sweet drinks,” you say, swirling around the ice in your half-empty glass. Peter hums happily.

“Listen, this is way better than beer.”

Honestly, you can’t disagree.

“So,” he continues, picking up the previous topic. “Are you gonna be okay? Money-wise?”

It’s not like he has much help to offer. Being a masked vigilante doesn’t pay very well, after all, but still.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “I have a side-gig that brings in a little cash-flow, so that’ll help cushion the blow. But I think I should still be able to afford rent and some groceries. I’ll just have to budget better, y’know?”

Peter nods. “Oh, okay. Good—,” but then his brain repeats the phrase “side-gig”, and his words cut off.

“Wait, what kind of side-gig are we talking about here?”

Despite how long the two of you have known each other, Peter has never heard anything about any kind of “side-gig”. It’s a little concerning, honestly, since the two of you don’t really keep secrets from each other.

Although it’s not like you know he’s Spiderman.

“Yeah. It’s nothing illegal, I promise,” you tell him, your attitude remaining pleasant. Peter stares at you, waiting for you to say more, but your smile only grows wider.

“Not telling,” you say, laughing quietly to yourself when Peter huffs in annoyance and grabs his drink. “You’ll just have to trust me. I’d never do anything illegal—you know me.”

“I dunno,” he responds, a playful lilt in his tone. “In college I seem to remember you stealing soft drinks from the mess hall without paying—”

“Oh c’mon,” you shoot back, and Peter grins, knowing you hate when he brings that up. “We were already paying to go to classes! Why should I pay 3 dollars for a cup of watered down coke?!”

Peter laughs as you go on a mini tangent about how college is a ripoff—ordering both you and him two more drinks when your waitress stops in to check on your table.

After a short while, your food comes out, and the two of you catch up over the hot meal. Conversation flows like normal—touching on any other life updates, and also local news topics, and things of the like. 

At your insistence, Peter splits a tiramisu with you to close out the evening, and by the time the dessert is gone, Peter thinks he may explode.

“Ugh, why did I let you talk me into that?” Peter groans, curling over and holding his stomach as you fetch enough cash from his wallet to cover half the bill.

“Well, if you were smart like me, you would have kept half of your entree to take home with you for later, and then you would have had enough room left for dessert. Which, by the way, is too good to waste—so don’t puke it up.”

Your waitress swings by to grab the bill, and you assure her it’s all set—passing her the small stack of money taken from both your and Peter’s wallets. She thanks you with a smile, and then scurries away, leaving the two of you alone.

You reach over the table, patting Peter’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. Your stomachs gotten bigger, after all.”

“Hey—,” Peter frowns, lifting his head. You’re already grabbing your purse and takeout box—sliding out of the booth. He quickly follows after you.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No,” you respond, holding the door open for him as the two of you step out into the cool New York air. “You’re actually still surprisingly in-shape for someone whose diet consists of pizza and frozen meals. But, that being said, you can’t deny you’ve put on a few pounds.”

Peter places a hand on his stomach.

“Remind me again why you’re so mean to me?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound getting lost in the crowd around you.

“You just make it too easy,” you admit, grinning up at him. Despite himself, Peter smiles back.

Being the gentleman that he is, Peter fully intends to escort you back to the doorstep of your apartment building, but—

His spidey senses tingle, and he can tell something is off. 

“Hey, um,” Peter grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Before your brain can even catch up, he’s yanking you into a quick hug, and then backpedaling towards the alleyway the two of you had just passed.

“Sorry, I just remembered there’s something I have to do. It was nice seeing you! Let’s touch base soon!”

He’s gone before you can even get a word out, disappearing around the corner. You stare after him for a moment, befuddled, and then continue on your way with a sigh. 

Same ‘ol Peter.

Exactly one hour later, Peter collapses in a pile of trash—his lungs heaving, and body aching. The fight itself hadn’t been that hard—just a few wannabe criminals with deadlier than normal weapons. 

No, the real challenge had been not barfing up his dinner while doing acrobatics across the city.

And maybe laying in a pile of trash to take a breather isn’t exactly helping his current predicament, but fuck—he doesn’t have the energy to move right now

Spreading out his limbs, Peter stares up at the smog-coated night sky, his mind wandering. He thinks about a lot of things—all the villains he’s fought in his time as Spiderman, the people who have come in and out of his life during it all, including you. You…who apparently has a “side-gig”.

…but like, what kind of side-gig?

Peter groans, knowing he won’t be able to let this go. 

You can’t just drop the knowledge that you have a secret side-gig on him and then not tell him what it is! 

And if you’re insistent on keeping it a secret, it must be something bad, right? RIGHT??

“Goddammit,” he grumbles, picking himself up. He swings off into the night, his mind reeling.

Peter lasts all of 3-days before he decides he can’t be left alone with his thoughts anymore—that he just needs to confirm what exactly your side-gig is, before his theories can get any wilder.

Because so far, his top guesses are that you’re either 1. Unknowingly acting as a middle man for some illegal trafficking operation, or 2. Providing “services” to New York sleazebags to get in their wallets.

And Peter knows it’s likely neither option—you’re too smart to get roped into something stupid. Plus, you had assured him it was nothing illegal.

But if he doesn’t figure it out, he thinks he may explode. 

So…he goes snooping. 

It’s not his brightest moment—using the spare key you had given him “in case of emergency” to sneak into your apartment one evening. (But to be fair, to him…this might just be an emergency).

He’d used his spidey senses to scope out your apartment before coming in, so he knows you're not home. Which is good, but…he doesn’t know when you’re gonna be back either, so he has to move fast.

Softly closing the front door behind him, Peter tip-toes across your apartment, deciding to start in your bedroom. He stands in the doorway for a moment, guilt bubbling up inside of him, but he decides to push forward anyway.

He’s just making sure you’re okay, he tells himself. You’re one of his closest friends, and you won’t tell him your secret—so it’s understandable he’d be worried.

Like the true Sherlock that he is, Peter starts with you dressers. He quickly checks each drawer—gently lifting up the stacks of clothes to make sure nothing is hidden beneath them. (The only time doesn’t is when he encounters the drawer with your bras and panties. He simply stares at them with flushed cheeks, rocking awkwardly on his heels, before he quietly closes the drawer. Surely nothing would be in there anyway, right?)

The small stack of papers on your nightstand ends up being recent receipts, and a manual on how to use the white noise machine you've apparently just purchased, considering it's sitting on the floor beside your nightstand, still in the box.

Getting on his hands and knees, Peter does a quick check under your bed, and freezes when he spots a covered box. He pulls it out without thinking, tugging off the fabric lined lid—

—and immediately slams it back down.

…veiny, pink, silicon—

Peter haphazardly pushes the box back under the bed, hurrying to his feet. He bustles into the kitchen with cherry-colored ears.

All-in-all, it takes Peter about half an hour to search your apartment, and unfortunately…he comes up empty handed. It seems like you have nothing to hide (except a box of sex toys under your bed, but Peter thinks that’s pretty understandable. You don't want dumb assholes like him accidentally finding it, even though Peter had—)

Sighing, Peter takes one last glance around your apartment.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have done this,” he sighs to himself, taking a step towards the door. But—not watching where he’s going, he stubs his toe into the leg of your coffee table.

A curse leaves his lips, and your opened laptop—which had previously been dark—jolts to life. Kicking the table must have moved your wireless mouse, Peter realizes.

Having already decided to leave, Peter fully intends to continue on his way. That is…before he takes a glance at your computer screen and sees that you have it open to a Google doc titled: “Spiderman x Reader Commission #6”.

…then, he’s scrambling onto your couch and yanking your laptop towards him.

“Number six??” he hisses dramatically, his eyes scanning over the document so fast that he doesn’t actually end up reading anything. 

He has to pause and go back to try again, but the second Peter reads the sentence “Spiderman’s cock strains painfully against the tight confines of his suit, his fingers twitching against your waist as he drags you in closer”, his brain effectively blue screens.

In a panic, he clicks into a different tab that’s open—landing on your email inbox, where a thread sits open. A transaction between you and an apparent “customer”. Someone who had contacted you in regards to your open “commissions”. 

Hi there! 

I saw you’re accepting commissions, and I really enjoyed reading the other Spiderman fics you wrote! Would you be open to writing one for me? Preferably a Reader x Spiderman, and a smut/fluff genre. Based on the rate sheet, I think I can afford it, but I’d appreciate it if we could talk more and discuss the final price based on the idea I have.

Thanks!

Holy shit, Peter realizes. Your side-gig is writing Spiderman porn on commission.

He sinks back into the couch, his mind whirling. 

How long has this been going on?? Do you…are you attracted to Spiderman?? As long as Peter has known you, you’ve never really fangirled over Spiderman. If Spiderman had popped up in the news, the two of you would talk about him, but…that was it.

And now you’re writing Spiderman smut for cash? Holy hell.

Peter supposes he should be relieved that what you’re doing truly isn’t illegal. That you’re just making money in a mostly innocent way, from the safety of your home. Meaning, Peter can call it quits, and leave.

…but instead, he leans forward, clicks back onto the Google doc tab, and starts reading more.

The document is still a work-in-progress, but Peter scrolls back up to the top, wanting to see how you’ve managed to set up this scenario.

As it turns out, a villain had injected Spiderman with some sort of aphrodisiac, and the reader is a bystander, bravely offering Spiderman her services to get him out of this pickle.

While embarrassing to admit, Peter gets sucked into the story—impressed by your ability to write, and your portrayal of him—err, Spiderman. In fact, he gets so distracted by the story and the multitude of thoughts running through his head that his spidey senses don’t kick in until danger is right on his doorstep.

Or, in reality, you are on your doorstep—your key shoving into the lock on the door. 

Peter’s heart nearly rockets out of his chest, his eyes darting to the window across the room. It’s closed, and even if he used his web shooter to rocket over to it, he wouldn’t be able to safely open the window and escape outside in the two seconds it’s going to take you to finish unlocking your do—

Before he can even finish the thought, your front door shoves open, and you flick on the lights—your gaze immediately finding Peter, who is still firmly planted on your couch, looking like a deer in headlights. 

You stare at him in shock.

“Peter? What…? Why are you here?”

“I was…worried about you,” Peter responds, forcing himself to smile. And it’s not like it’s a lie.

“You said you were strapped for cash, and I…I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

You kick the door shut behind you, your purse and keys discarded on the small table beside your entryway. 

“I thought I told you to just trust me?”

You face him with a hand posed sternly on your hip. You appreciate his concern for you, but it’s a little upsetting that he hadn’t just been able to trust your word. 

“I know,” Peter responds with a sigh. He runs a hand through his graying hair, and your gaze flits to his ears, noticing how red they are. Why is he so flushed?

“And I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I should have. Trusted you, I mean. I’ll just—,” he pushes himself up, planning to excuse himself and run, but freezes half way to his feet. 

He’s half hard. Fuck.

If he gets up now, it’ll be a lot harder to hide that—especially since he’s wearing sweatpants.

Making a lil noise, Peter eases himself back down onto your couch. You cock an eyebrow.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry…back spasm.”

“Well, you don’t have to rush out. You’re welcome to stay for a while if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

You flash him a smile and turn towards the kitchen. Peter watches you as you open your fridge and bend down—fetching two bottles of water from the bottom shelf. His eyes glue to your ass the second you lean over, and Peter punches himself in the knee—forcing his gaze up towards the ceiling.

He’s going fucking insane. He’s not used to being this…feral feeling. Arousal is usually one of the emotions that evades him nowadays, but here he is—done in by fucking Spiderman fanfiction. 

Who knew he’d get turned on reading about himself fucking some nameless woman? And who knew that arousal would make him thirst after you?

(Honestly, if he thinks about it, it’s not that surprising. The two of you have been friends for years, and he feels comfortable around you. Not to mention, you’ve always been attractive, even if you do like to push his buttons—)

“Here,” you say, snapping him out of his internal panic. You plop down onto the couch next to him, handing him one of the two bottles of water. 

Peter reaches out to take it, and you notice the sweat beading on his brow. Why the hell is he—?

At that moment, you spot your laptop on the coffee table—open, and still showing the commission document you’d left open earlier on. Your first instinct is to reach over and slam your laptop shut before Peter can see—

…wait.

Peter reaches forward to take the water bottle from your grasp, but when he grips it, you don’t budge.

Confused, he looks up—only to find you intensely staring at him.

“Did you read it…?”

Peter’s face heats up, his eyes darting to the side to avoid looking at you.

Busted…

You pulse races, embarrassment blooming in your chest.

HE DID, you realize. HE READ IT. Your fucking Spiderman smut!

“Ah, shit…,” you mumble, letting go of his water bottle and crumpling in on yourself. You curl onto your side, hiding your face in the couch cushion. 

Feeling horrible that he has embarrassed you—having discovered something you’d tried to keep private—Peter hurries to try and smooth over the situation.

“Okay, yes, I did read it,” he starts by saying. “But…it was…really good! You’re a good writer, and I can see why people are commissioning you! You’ll surely make some cash with the skill you have.”

If he was smart, he’d have stopped there, but no—Peter keeps going.

“A-And hey! I’d be willing to help too. Y’know, help give you some inspiration for your stories—”

His voice dies in his throat, realizing what it is he has just offered. And obviously, you realize it too—your head immediately lifting, staring at him with curious surprise.

“Did you just…offer…to fuck? To help me with my stories?”

The insinuation is so insane that you can’t help laughing. Peter coughs, straightening his shoulders out.

“I think I’d be very good inspiration for Spiderman.”

“Really?”

There’s disbelief in your voice. Peter narrows his eyes.

“You don’t think so?”

You hum, uncapping your water bottle and taking a swig. Peter mirrors you, his throat feeling dry.

“Spiderman is…suave and heroic, and you’re…dorky. Smart, but dorky.”

Peter frowns. “I can be…suave.”

You cock an eyebrow, a playful grin breaking out on your face. Your heart is racing a million miles an hour, because never did you think you’d be sitting here with Peter, the possibility of sex between the two of you suddenly laid out on the table. You’d never deny he’s an attractive male, and maybe because it’s him, and because you’ve missed the feel of another human being, you end up saying—

“Yeah? Show me then.”

You lean back, waiting to see if Peter will make a move. 

Unfortunately, the realization that you’re open to whatever is happening right now causes Peter’s brain to stall, and he takes a second too long to act—just long enough to allow doubt to worm its way into your head.

You’re putting him on the spot. And he’s still probably dealing with some complicated feelings from the split—you shouldn’t have poked him.

Without saying anything, you decide to try and create some space. You push off of the couch, padding towards your bedroom. You’ll make an excuse about needing to fold your clothes, or something stupid—and hopefully Peter will take what you’ve said as a joke, and will move on. Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan—

Pausing in the doorway of your room, you force yourself to smile, and turn to face Peter—only to find that he’d snuck up on you—your gaze meeting his chest the second you turn around.

“Pe—,” you’re only able to get the first syllable of his name out, your chin tilting back as you look up at him. The feeling of his palm cupping your cheek is what makes your voice die out, his chestnut eyes boring into you. 

You can see the hesitation on his face. A certain lack of confidence that you’re sure stems from his past relationship issues. But beneath that, you can see desire. A craving for intimacy he hasn’t shared in a long time.

You decide to be the one to close the gap—pressing onto your toes, your palm resting flat on his pec as you lean upward—connecting your lips with his. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, and you silently convince yourself that if Peter backs out, you’ll be fine with it. 

Luckily, he doesn’t. His brain finally kicks into gear, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as he kisses you back. 

You make a pleasantly surprised little sound, your arms lifting to wrap around his neck—effectively deepening the kiss. A wrinkle appears between Peter’s eyebrows, his grip on your waist tightening. Your chest presses flat against his torso, and he rubs his thumb against your cheek, obsessed with the plushness of your lips and the feel of you against him.

It’s been way too long since he’s been intimate like this…that’s apparent by the blood absolutely rockets into his dick.

Although, to be fair, he’d already been half-hard before this.

“You think our local hero gets hard this quick?” you mumble against his lips with a grin, giggling when Peter makes a noise of annoyance and nips at you.

“You’d be surprised,” he responds. He slots his thigh between your knees, backing you into the doorframe. His clothed cock grinds against your stomach, trapped between your bodies, and his muscles tense.

“Adrenaline can go straight to the dick sometimes…”

(Peter has lost track of how many times, after an intense fight—especially earlier in his career—he’d swung home and immediately jerked off).

“That’s fair, I suppose.”

Your fingertips coast up the nape of his neck, tangling in the messy hair at the base of his skull. You yank him downward ever so slightly, your lips connecting with the skin of his neck. He immediately shivers, the first of many embarrassing sounds ripping from his chest as you lick and suck at his flesh.

“Think Spiderman whimpers?”

You’re teasing him. As to be expected, given the dynamic of your relationship. But Peter doesn’t intend on taking it quietly.

“Maybe,” he admits, “If you make him feel good enough. But if you wanna know what I think—”

Peter surprises you by ducking down—his arms looping around your thighs as he lifts you off the floor. Your squeal, arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him since you don’t want to fall, but Peter carries you easily enough—striding into your room and depositing you onto your bed.

He doesn’t waste any time—quickly caging you down. His knee reclaims its spot between your thighs, rubbing incessantly at the dampening fabric covering your privates, and his lips find your neck—a shiver raking up your spine as his stubble scratches against your skin.  

“Peter,” you gasp when his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips ghost over your heated skin, brushing past your waist, and finding the clasp of your bra. You have to arch to give him room to work, and Peter sucks a hickey of approval into your neck. He debates telling you “good girl”, but the thought leaves him the second your bra pops open.

He needs your tits in his mouth.

“—I think Spiderman has a thing for boobs,” Peter says, finally finishing his earlier statement. This exclamation is followed with the immediate removal of your shirt and bra—Peter forcibly tugging them over your head and discarding them on the floor beside your bed. 

The sight of Peter groping you and lowering his mouth to your chest is enough to have your heart skipping a beat, and you can’t help the mewl that leaves you when Peter sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Peter groans when your fingers fist in his hair, practically keeping his mouth trapped where it is, which he hardly minds considering he intends to lick and suck at your tits until you’re panting. 

And, that’s exactly what he does.

He lavishes your chest with his mouth—relishing in the way your hips jump at each little nip of his teeth or roll of your nipple between his fingers. It’s embarrassing, honestly, how wet it gets you—your panties feeling quite wet as you continue grinding your pussy against Peter’s thigh.

You try and think of some smart response in regard to Peter’s opinion that Spiderman is a tit man, not an ass man, but words seem to be avoiding you. You can’t think of anything coherently when Peter is touching you like this. Especially when his face finally leaves your chest, his lips peppering kisses down the length of your torso.

You lift your head to look at him, propping up on one of your arms. Peter reaches your navel, but doesn’t stop, heading towards—

“Peter,” you pant, your face flushing hotly as you realize the path he’s carving. 

Peter hums, his eyes flitting up and meeting your gaze just as he hooks his thumbs beneath the band of your pants. 

“Another thing about Spiderman…,” he begins, kissing the skin of your tummy as he inches your waistband down your hips. You watch him with blown-wide eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly—excitement and nervousness mingling inside of you.

You lift your ass off the mattress to help him shuck you of your bottoms, and Peter smiles, tossing your pants on the floor beside your other clothes.

Never in your life did you imagine the sight of Peter sinking to his knees, his hands gripping your hips and dragging you closer to him—his gaze falling between your legs. Your panties are soaked, and the sight causes more blood to rush into his dick. He’s so hard that it honestly hurts—just a little bit—but Peter still doesn’t touch himself, because—

“...Spiderman loves eating pussy.”

“He’s a people-pleaser,” you quip breathlessly, your thighs quivering in Peter’s hold when he presses a kiss to your skin, right beside your panty line. He quietly chuckles.

“Maybe.”

Peter thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat. You hips buck in his hold, craving more, and when Peter sees the desperate look on your face, he decides to not tease you.

Peeling your panties to the side, Peter finally connects his mouth with your pussy—his tongue licking a wet, broad strip between your folds.

Oh, shit, you think to yourself, the muscles in your abdomen convulsing as you watch one of your closest friends eat you out. The whole situation is making you feel light headed, so you can’t help it when you collapse back onto the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets as Peter groans into your cunt.

He eats you like a man starved, his face quickly becoming covered with your arousal. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue sinks between your walls, and you full out whimper—your hips needily grinding against his mouth.

Peter’s palm presses down on your pelvis, forcing your hips to the mattress. He doesn’t want you squirming—just wants you desperate and pliant. To see you cumming on his tongue.

His name falls from your lips again, more debauched than he’s ever heard, and Peter curses.

“Shit.”

His tone is guttural, and sexy, and—

He presses a finger inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Pete—,” his name deterorates into a moan, your brain function declining as Peter begins fucking his finger inside of you. At the same time, he focuses his mouth on your clit, his tongue urgently flicking against the bundle of nerves. 

You unconsciously wriggle at the assault of stimulation, but Peter’s hand on your stomach keeps you in place.

Why is he so strong? You think to yourself, moan ripping from your chest as Peter slips in a second finger. It doesn’t take him long to locate that spongy little sweet spot inside of you. The one that causes your thighs to shake as he practically abuses it—rubbing the pads of his fingers against it repeatedly until you’re nearly sobbing.

The coil in your belly winds tight, heat searing your veins. You can feel your clit throbbing against Peter’s tongue, and the walls of your pussy tightening up around him.

“Peter,” you cry, your entire body trembling. You’re so fucking close.

“Cum,” he rasps. He needs to see you orgasm—needs to feel you unraveling on his mouth and fingers. 

Hearing the gravel of his voice is the final nail in your coffin—the tension in your muscles releasing as your orgasm washes over you. Just as he wanted, you cum all over him, your cunt gushing arousal around his fingers as his tongue continues lapping at your clit, dragging out the waves of your pleasure until you’re panting and pawing at his head, trying to push him away.

After a moment, he relents—sitting back to look at you.

You’re covered in a sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, and an arm draped over your eyes. Your tits are peppered with an array of hickies, and Peter feels his chest (and cock) swell with pride. He’s clearly done a number on you. And yet…

You feel the mattress dip, and then the room is spinning around you. When things finally settle, you find yourself laying on top of Peter.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist, his palm resting on your ass. The other brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you lean back to look at him.

“Spiderman also loves being ridden,” he says with a grin. You place your hands on his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as he watches you struggle to sit up.

“You think I have the energy to ride you after you just did that? And why do you keep saying Spiderman enjoys these things like they’re facts—you don’t know.”

“Just a feeling,” he responds, licking his lips. His hands find your hips, and he grinds you downwards. Your sensitive pussy rubs against his aching length, still trapped behind his sweatpants, and it’s hard to miss the way Peter harshly swallows at the feeling.

You sigh, scooting backwards.

“Fine.”

You shove his sweats and boxers down his thighs, careful to not snag them on his dick. And damn, he really must be aching—a sticky string of precum dripping from the head of his cock, and pooling on his abdomen. 

He opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Your fingers wrap around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever Peter had been planning to say crumbles into a needy garble of non-words.

You can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Surprised you didn’t cream your pants already,” you tell him, but your tone is hardly teasing. No, seeing him beneath you like this—the muscles in his torso clenching with every stroke of your hand—it’s actually quite endearing.

“I’ll cum in your hand if you keep doing that,” he pants, glancing into your eyes. You spot nothing but lust there, any previous reservations gone.

“Is that so bad?” you ask, thumbing at the head of his cock. Peter’s grip on your waist tightens, and you hear him take a shaky breath.

“Yes.”

He wants to be inside you, that much is clear. And while it’d be so easy to draw it out and make him beg…you don’t feel like being mean to him. Not tonight, after he’d just given you the best oral of your life.

“Fine,” you relinquish. You scoot forward, planting one hand on his chest, and gripping the base of his cock with the other. Peter’s breath catches when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a heady groan following a beat later as you begin sinking down onto him.

By the time his cock is fully inside of you, your thighs are shaking. Whether from the lack of energy due to your previous orgasm, the remarkable size of Peter inside of you, or both—you’re not totally sure.

“There’s no rush,” Peter reassures you, but the needy warble of his voice betrays his words.

“My legs might give out at some point,” you respond with a breathless laugh, and Peter echos you, giving your waist a squeeze.

“That’s fine. I’ll help.”

With your palms planted firmly on his chest, you begin to ride him. 

And god, you feel so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Peter bites out, watching the space between your bodies, where his cock disappears inside of you with every roll of your hips. It’s been ages since a cunt has squeezed his dick like this, and honestly, he can see himself very easily getting addicted to the feel of you.

The bounce of your tits as you ride him, the cute little sounds you make when his cock rubs against the sensitive spots inside you—he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Peter,” you whine, your pace flattering. Having his cock inside of you is incomparable to the feeling of his fingers, and very quickly, you can feel another orgasm building, but…the closer you get, the more your strength falters.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he responds, praises falling from his lips. “You’re doing so good. You feel so good.”

His words cause your walls to clench around him, and he groans—his hands sliding down to your hips as he helps rock you down onto his cock. The sloppy sound of sex fills your bedroom, and you watch Peter with half-lidded eyes, soaking up the desperation showing on his face. 

His hair is slicked back with sweat, brows pinched together in concentration as he forces you to continue riding him. At least, until he starts craving more.

With his orgasm quickly approaching—despite the immense pleasure he gains seeing you bouncing on top of him—Peter’s hunger gets the best of him.

He grabs your wrists, moves your arms so they’re wrapped around his shoulders, and then secures his arms around your back. Before you can even digest the slight change in position, Peter is fucking you.

An incoherent string of noise slips past your lips, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as his cock pistons inside of you. With his arms trapping you against his chest, you’re helpless but to take it—your orgasm rushing to the surface at the desperate yet brutal pace that Peter sets.

“Peter,” you sob into his neck.

“It’s okay,” he responds without missing a beat, his voice breathless. “I’m right there. Cum for me again, sweetheart.”

As if you could stop.

Holding onto him for dear life, you cum for the second time that night—your walls clamping down on his cock so tightly that Peter’s rhythm falters. A curse rips from his throat, and his hands find the plush of your ass—stuffing your body down onto his dick as he cums along with you—pumping you full of his seed.

The needy tension of the room melts away, and you and Peter can only lay there—a pile of sweaty yet sated flesh. It takes you both a minute to catch your breaths, and you make a quiet noise of disappointment when Peter’s cock slips out of you. 

You can feel his cum running out of your pussy.

“Your balls aren’t dried up yet?”

Peter’s chest rumbles beneath you.

“I’m in my 30’s, not my 60’s.”

You glance up at him when you feel Peter’s fingers clearing the hair away from your face, and he smiles at you. Your heart jumps.

He must know how handsome he is, right? Even with that crooked nose of his.

“Don’t you ever get tired of taking cracks at me?” he wonders, using his grip on your ass to slide you farther up his chest. You giggle, cupping his cheeks as you find yourself suddenly face to face with him. 

“Mmmm, no?”

He rolls his eyes, yet his smile widens. You lean down to kiss him, and he reciprocates easily enough.

“Feeling good?” you ask him, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods.

“Very. I…really missed that.”

“Same,” you agree, sitting back. You need to get to the bathroom before any cum gets on your nice sheets. You crawl off of Peter, swinging your legs over the side of your mattress. He rolls onto his side, watching you with furrowed brows as he tucks his dick back into his pants.

“Same? You haven’t—?”

“Not in a while,” you admit, pulling a fresh shirt and a pair of panties from your dresser drawers. You’re about to make a joke that the only action you’ve gotten recently is from the toys stashed under your bed, but when you turn to look at the spot where they’re hidden, you find that…the box has moved. It’s not where you had left it.

“Did you…find my sex toys? Before I came home?”

Peter’s face goes carefully blank, but the red flush of his ears betrays him. 

You shoot him a glare, leaving your room with a huff.

“Dude doesn’t trust me…how fucking rude…”

“Hey now—!” 

Peter’s feet pound against the floor as he chases after you, and he catches you around the waist just before you make it into your bathroom. His lips press against the crown of your head.

“Again, I’m sorry for snooping. I’m dumb.”

You sigh, wriggling around to face him.

“You are,” you agree, lightly patting his chest. “Dumb, and insistent that Spider man loves tits, eating pussy, and getting ridden. Still holding those beliefs?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter grins. “And I have other beliefs about his preferences as well.”

“Of course you do,” you laugh. You kiss his cheek, and then step out of his hold—heading into the bathroom. 

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want any.”

Peter nods, and the last thing you see is him heading for your fridge when you close the bathroom door.

30 minutes later, you exit your steaming bathroom in your fresh oversized t-shirt and panties, fully expecting to find Peter lounging around your apartment, eating all your food. But…to your utter disappointment, you don’t spot him anywhere.

You sigh, shoulders sagging. Had it been too much to assume he would have wanted to stay the night?

Shuffling into your kitchen, you spot an empty plate on your table. One that you know had previously been piled high with leftover chicken and potatoes.

“He eats my food and runs off…of course,” you mumble, picking up the plate to put it in the sink. However, before your annoyance can truly get the better of you, a piece of paper that had been stuck to the bottom of the plate floats to the ground.

You bend over to pick it up.

Hey!

Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to stay so long, so I left my apartment earlier without locking the door. I’m running back home to lock it, but I should be back at your place by 9!

Don’t get mad at me. I’d never run off without a word :p

-PB

PS. I have a working theory that Spiderman also has more stamina than you’d expect, even for a guy who’s been doing hero work for 20+ years, so…round two when I get back?

You can’t help but laugh.

What an idiot. 

But…you like him.

[babiebom]

When You Fall (VIII)

A/N: i got the sweetest message from someone(idk if they’d want me to call them out) and somehow it made me want to start on this chapter so I guess it literally just takes someone being nice for me to actually do something lmao. Also happy new year!! Also also whenever I’m writing one of these chapters and the tumblr notif shows up it jumpscares me. Like how do y’all know?

Tw: depression, reader decides to force themself to be happy, cursing. The usual

Wc:3.0k

Previous Next Masterlist

Sweat dripped from your forehead as you attempted to clear some of the farm from debris. It was taking long to clear everything, and though you knew that most of the land would be unused until you actually got enough money to plant more things and get a coop or barn.

Shadow ran around wildly, barking happily as she snapped her teeth at the air. It’s funny, watching her as she runs. Getting pets didn’t make being in a depressive pit completely go away, but they did make that pit less dark, less daunting and lonely. Mango lazed around on the porch, his tail slowly waving side to side as he watched you.

Sticking your rake into the ground and wiping the sweat again, you grin at your animals, letting out a labored breath. “Okay, so, I love you both very very much. And I’m sorry that I can’t take you but they’re hosting an Egg Festival in the town and I’m going.”

You move to sit on the porch, Shadow dashing to crash onto your lap. You open your arms and let her move her big body onto you with a roll. “And I swear I’m not going to enjoy being away from you both, but I have to go as part of my healing. I’ll be back soon.” Neither one of them did anything other than stare at you and then go about their own business as you get up and head inside to shower. Shadow trails behind you after a moment, her tail wagging so hard her butt wiggles along with it. You take one last glance at her as you finally get in the shower, hoping the day goes by quickly.

Walking into the town’s square, it’s like a decorating bomb went off. There are banners and decorative flags and other things littered around in a way that made you think whoever decorated spent way too long out here only for them to be messed up by the wind. There’s so many layers of tape that you feel irritated for whoever had to fix it.

“Farmer!” Pierre calls out from behind his booth. You want to ignore him, not really ready for social interaction but go over to him anyways. Forcing a smile onto your lips you lean on the booth counter, looking at the things he has stocked.

Some strawberry seeds, lawn flamingos, plants, a painting, a bright pink banner, a plush bunny, and a….decorative pitchfork? What kind of stock is this? What does this have to do with the egg festival? You blink a couple times and attempt to control the look on your face, maybe you could buy a couple of strawberry seeds. Even if you don’t plant them this season you can always wait. “Hey Pierre! Selling some good stuff?”

He smiles and moves his hand around, gesturing to his stock. “Yeah, looking to buy anything?”

“Sure…a couple strawberry seed packets…and that plush bunny.”

“It’s pretty cute huh? Okay that’ll be 2,500g.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. 2,500g? The man has to be insane! What the fuck costed so much that you were being charged this much? “Yeah, prices are a little steep. But I have to make a living somehow,” he chuckles when he sees your expression. You try hard to keep your face in check, not wanting to snap on the man in front of everyone. You were here to make progress, not to make enemies.

After giving him the money you take your new things and stuff them into your backpack. The letter said the festival ended at two, and looking at your watch it was only 9:30. That meant 4 and a half more hours of agony trying to force yourself out of a depressive pit that you aren’t really all too sure you’re ready to leave just yet for the sake of getting better.

Well, at least there’s food…

Hurrying along, the sight of the buffet table makes your mouth water. Not eating breakfast and working all morning in a large field without totally knowing what to do is a bad idea, but now that you’re looking at all the different types of food you can’t help but praise yourself for how lucky starving yourself got you. Now you can eat, then when you get home you can pass out and sleep until tomorrow. Like another rest day that feels like a reward after running around in the dirt.

As you fill your plate with food, you can see Gus and what’s his name…’Clive?’ You think to yourself, nose scrunching in confusion, ‘No, that's a stupid name. Carl? It has to be Carl…what other C names are there?’ In your thoughts you almost drop your plate and gain the attention of the two men, Gus smiles brightly and waves you over while the other man averts his eyes. Weird…

“Hey Gus!” You smile warmly at the older man. There was a twinge of stress in his eye, but it seemed rude to point that out to him. His eyes moved over the rows and rows of food and it occurs to you that he must have cooked almost everything himself being the Towns Saloon owner and all.

“Hey farmer! I was just telling Clint here…you’ve met Clint right?”

You shake your head at his question. You had only seen him around maybe once and heard his name in passing from the blue haired girl who was talking to him when you passed by and from Maru when you were in the clinic. Thank Yoba Gus said his name or you would’ve been stood awkwardly just like you are but more so because you wouldn’t have known his name. “Oh well, he’s the towns blacksmith…anyways I was just telling him how I hope everyone’s enjoying the food. I’ve been cooking for days to get the food ready.”

“Days? Wow thats a lot of work…”

“Yeah I made fried eggs, boiled eggs, poached eggs, deviled eggs, scrambled eggs, chocolate eggs, you name it!”

“I mean it is the Egg Festival…”

“Yeah, not to mention the other foods. I’d be upset if it turned out horribly.”

You take a bite of whatever was on your plate in front of him, trying to make a show of how good it is, but not really needing to act because WOW can this man cook. How’d he even make this? His eyes light up at your expressions and mannerisms, his shoulders relaxing at the sight of you enjoying the food. “No Gus, I swear this is amazing! You don’t need to worry about anyone not enjoying the food at all!”

“Thank you for the kind words, Farmer, it means a lot to me.”

You nod vigorously, not wanting to ignore him but now overcome with the urge to stuff down as much of the food as you can. What the fuck was in this? Drugs? You can’t even remember the last time you were this hungry.

With your plate you walk around, smiling at anyone who talks to you, and try to carry on conversations that you didn’t really care much about. It had been weeks since you moved here, and you were just now meeting everyone personally. There were so many people living here in Pelican Town that you wonder how you had managed to avoid 60 percent of them whenever you ventured out.

As you make your rounds to the buffet table for the second time, the sight of a bright red cape catches your eye and the man with the eyepatch flashes in your mind. You hadn’t seen him since that day, but you had to find out what those stupid jelly things are.

“Marlon!” You call out, rushing to the man in the corner. He looked surprised that you were speaking to him, but made no moves to walk away or ignore you. Instead he looked slightly pleased. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

His eyebrows quirk up in amusement, “I could say the same about you, don’t hear anything about you going around.”

You shrug and realize that just as much as you stick to your farm, he must stick to the caves and mountains. Neither bad, but awfully lonely when you think about it. You wonder if there’s anyone he lives with up there. “I just thought that you would prefer to be adventuring or something…like in the caves?”

“Yeah, but even with my bad leg I never miss a festival.”

“Oh…say you know down in the caves how there are…things right?”

“Yeah the monsters?”

“Yeah um, have you ever seen the little Jello creatures? They’re really tiny and all but are like really strong for some reason, and jump at you like they’re legless spiders?”

“The slimes? Yeah you have to be careful with them. They might be easy to defeat but can quickly overwhelm you if you’re not careful.”

He frowns at you and you swallow. That’s exactly what had happened. The stupid things were just too much the more you ventured down. But you’d be ready for them next time, and whatever else is down there. “Yeah, they kinda kicked my ass last time I went into the caves.”

He nods solemnly, as if he could relate. Maybe he could relate, having a bad leg and an injured eye and living up there. There had probably been times that he’s gotten overwhelmed and hurt. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. If he could get hurt down there, and you have already been hurt, who’s to say that you won’t just die the next time you go down? It’s weird to think just how lucky you truly were when you were saved.

Thinking of being saved…your eyes flit around quickly trying to spot the man that had saved your life. Maru and Sam had said that Sebastian had gone down into the caves himself to save you, and even though you hadn’t seen him personally since meeting in the Saloon, the need to thank him was always in the back of your mind. And now you have the chance, Yoba you wished you were home.

You bid goodbye to Marlon and shuffled your way to the trio standing off at the bottom of the town’s square. Rehearsing what you’re going to say in your head, you hope that it would be a quick conversation, that you wouldn’t stutter over your words and that you wouldn’t act so awkward that they think you’re weirder than you are. But as you clear your throat as you walk up to them, regret settles in your belly at the looks on their faces. It was like being in school all over again and the kids that you thought were cool were too tight knit as a group and hated outsiders.

Before you could say anything Abigail speaks first, staring straight at you. “Do you think I’m too old to do the Egg Hunt?”

You frown at her in confusion before shaking your head. “No?”

She punches Sebastian’s arm as soon as the word leaves your mouth. “Ha! I told you I wasn’t too old. It’s like, why stop if I’m having fun?”

“How are you having fun searching for eggs with actual children?”

“Hey! Searching for eggs is like going on a treasure hunt! Besides, your sister does it too!”

Sebastian rolls his eyes at her, looking towards the river without saying anything more, choosing to sip on the punch in his cup. Sam looks like he’s suffering and you tilt your head, silently questioning him. “Ugh…it’s my doze…allergies.” His nose is so stuffed up that his words seem heavy. You wince at him and nod in understanding, Springtime wasn’t the best for people with allergies.

Sebastian clears his throat after a minute. “You know what I miss? The rotten egg toss.”

Both Sam and Abigail agree quickly, words coming out both of their mouths too quickly for you to really understand anything they’re saying. They’re very enthusiastic about it, recounting things that happened in previous years. In your confusion you look over at Sebastian, and he swallows his drink quickly. “We used to do a rotten egg toss, a couple years ago. It was only for like two years, Mayor Lewis put an end to it pretty quickly.”

“Yeah, too many people complained that it stunk.” Abigail laughed. It sounded pretty fun, tossing rotten eggs at a target or something, but the smell…ugh.

Before you could say anything else, Sam says he’s going to get more food before the egg hunt starts and they put everything away. Abigail looks between you and Sebastian and smiles. “I’ll go with him, either of you want anything?”

You shake your head, plate still full from the second round. “Maybe some punch? If it’s not too much trouble?” She shrugs and looks at Sebastian who just hands her his cup. She leaves without another word and without turning back. Ha…now it’s awkward…

“I didn’t think you were one for socializing.”

You’re surprised at his words, but think that in a small town there are rarely secrets. Everyone must know that you’re suffering. “Yeah um, just had a bad couple of weeks. I’m better now, though, ready to mingle and become part of the town…being alone is no good.”

He snorts, glancing at you and your heart stutters in your chest. Did he think you were joking? Were you that obvious in your dislike of talking to others? “Yeah sure…been there once.”

You don’t ask him what he means, understanding that he’s seeing right through your fake chipper exterior. For a minute the silence stretches on, but it’s not as tense and awkward as it was before. Maybe it was a good thing he could tell you were faking, there was no need now that it was only you two. “Y’know I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

“For?” He sounds disinterested, but when you look at his face he seems more…uncomfortable.

“You saving me? Your friends told me you went down into the caves to get me.”

“Fucking…yeah. It was no problem. You should be more careful, though, I was only able to help because I noticed that you didn’t come up.”

“Yeah…I really should…anyways. Thanks for saving me, hopefully you won’t have to do it again.”

He shrugs and says nothing.

“I owe you one.”

“Sure.”

The mayor claps his hands loudly, speaking into a megaphone that he’s holding. “If anyone is participating in the egg hunt, gather round. It’s almost time to begin!”

“You participating?” He asks, and for a second you almost say no before remembering that the whole point of coming was to become part of the community and bettering yourself.

“Yeah…you?”

“Nah…”

You nod and cough into your fist, unsure of how to separate yourself from him. “Well, I guess I’ll see you…later?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m either at home, or at Sam’s or the Saloon during the weekends…”

“Okay, cool.”

You walk away quickly, confused as to how you had somewhat made a friend of him? There was that saying that misery loves company…maybe he was the perfect person to be miserable with. He seemed like he had problems himself. Mayor Lewis claps a hand onto your shoulder a little harder than necessary, causing you to wince. “Enjoying yourself, Farmer?”

“Yeah…”

“That’s good! It’s about time you introduced yourself to the townspeople. Everyone was so excited to meet the new farmer in town and you just…disappeared. They thought you were a recluse or something!” He lets out a laugh that makes you frown. You had forgotten how much this guy could talk.

“Yeah well, family deaths will do that to you.” You keep your face straight as you stare at him. He coughs and sputters out some words before the conversation is effectively ended.

After another minute and a half the egg hunt begins and your heart starts thumping in your chest. The kids are already running off, and Abigail is darting around so quickly that you think that she’s going to knock one of them over. Looking at the other participants, the urge to beat them overcomes you. Winning at this means that you’re officially part of the community right? You’re putting yourself out there?

Your feet move without another thought from you and soon enough your basket is full with eggs. Looking at the others it seems theirs are too. You can hear Lewis counting down from ten and your heart races even more. How were you supposed to win this? You run across the square, hoping to get one last egg.

Five…

Where are the rest of the eggs? What the fuck is there no more?

Four…

In the corner of your eye something yellow gleams under the sun. An egg! Near the river!

Three…

You dash towards the egg, hand stretched out towards it.

Two…

A couple more steps to go, you’re unsure if you’ll get there in time.

One…

Your hand closes around the egg and into your basket it goes. Your heart thumps and your breaths come out uneven. But you made it! The last egg.

Lewis calls everyone back towards the center of town, eyes gleaming as he looks at everyone’s baskets. He seems happy to see more people participating in a dying tradition. There were only two kids in town so an egg hunt is bound to get boring as everyone gets older.

It takes five whole minutes for Lewis to count everyone’s eggs, yours being the last basketbhe gets his hands on. “Nine…ten…” Abigail groans in annoyance next to you. “Eleven! The winner is the Farmer! Come up and get your prize!”

Prize? If you knew there was going to be a prize you wouldn’t have tried so hard. Now someone was going to be mad at you for winning instead of them. You walk slowly to Lewis confused as to what he could be offering.

“Enjoy!”

He hands you a straw hat…well at least it’s helpful?

[justcallmenikki7]

Hi, it’s Nikki.

I’m writing this to give you all, the ones who are still here even tho I’ve been basically hiatus for a while now, with some posts here and there. You probably all, also, saw this coming, but I’m sadly done writing.

God, im crying lmao.

Anyways, I realized after constantly trying to write something, outline, everything, I couldn’t write anymore. Maybe it’s because I went through a severe abusive relationship at the beginning of April 2022 to the end of November of 2022, and it completely changed me as a person. I lost a lot of love, likes, whatever you may call it, from that relationship. It changed me, and one of the things it changed in me was my love for writing. My spark isn’t here anymore, and I’ve been trying to hold on for the last possible year and a half for you guys, but it hasn’t happened. I’m afraid of change, I’m afraid of letting go, and have a bad time of accepting the fact that i mayve grown out of a phase, you know? My love for the boys will always be there, always.

What has also caused me lots of stress, and is a sign of losing my spark, has been trying to write and come up with ideas, and creat stories for those who have messaged me privately, and I feel terrible for not being able to do that, and I hate breaking promises/not keeping my word because I wanted to make you guys happy, and I’ve failed those individuals. I’m sorry for not finishing those requests, and I’m sorry that I never actually started them because I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to make you happy, but I couldn’t get anything out and so I sat for the longest time, trying to get a good paragraph, or in a general a sentence out, but i couldn’t and I didn’t.

And I’ve sadly relapsed the other night after almost 2 years of being clean from s/h. My depression has been in the dumps, and even tho I have so many positives going on in my life and such amazing people, and an amazing partner, my mental health is deteriorating and I need to focus on myself.

I know I’ve once done a short hiatus before and came back because sometimes a small break is good to have, but sometimes all things must come to an end, and I’m officially closing my chapter with tumblr and writing for good.

I’ve made a couple of friends on here, and those friends I want to address real quickly and say my peace.

@wickizer , girl you know everything and ily

@minniepetals . My gosh, I remember reading your story String of Fate when it first came out, and I swore up and down, still today I do, that it’ll be published in the hall of fame. Despite it being on its hiatus, it’s still the best story so far. You deserve an award for your writing, and your story Cry Me A River is such an amazing masterpiece. I’ve been meaning to read it all, but life has gotten in the way and I’m so proud of you. Even tho we haven’t talked in the longest time, I’m still cheering you on, on here and outside of tumblr.

@aft3rhrs . Love, you’re amazing and I hope you take care of yourself and take time for yourself. Self love and self kindness is a priority and make yourself a priority. Your writing is beautiful and I’m glad we befriended each other. I’m cheering you on, and always will. Thank you for being a kind person.

And every other writer that I bonded with on here, I love you and will be a huge cheerleader for you. To those who I reached out to when I was still new for advice, or for me to fangirl to, thank you for being kind and helpful.

And to my followers, the ones who cheered me on to keep writing when I first joined tumblr, thank you for being kind and supportive. I love each and every single one of you. You made this place a safe place for the longest time, and I’m thankful for all of you.

I’m sorry for the longest apology and me basically dumping my issues on here, I just needed to be honest with you all. I didn’t want this to sound like a ‘poor me’ ‘feel sorry for me’ but I needed to, like I said before, be honest with you.

This is scary for me, but this is me saying goodbye.

Love forever and always, justcallmenikki7.

[navybrat817]

Sometimes a fiction affects one more than one has expected. One of my favorite fics has been hold you tight. I have read and reread it several times. I was not aware the hold it had on me until the time, when last week, you did not post. I felt myself go anxious. I felt myself even go in depression. It has nothing to do with you, you have your work, but it has to do with the trouble in my own life that I found solace in reading something fictional and when it did not arrive, I felt myself breaking down. I felt that I was drowning in despair. But I also want to thank you that your fic has brought me comfort enough to make me functional in this state of depression and despair. I have to go on be strong and face the despair in my life instead of escaping. Thank you for not posting on time and getting me out of this vicious cycle of self destruction and self neglect. I thank you so much...bless you. However. With a very heavy heart I also feel obligated to tell you that I won't be reading your blog or any blog in tumblr for a while. Again, I thank you so much for the comfort and revelation you have brought in my life. Lots of Love... ❤️

Nonnie, I’m going to be completely honest. I’m having a hard time digesting this and I’ll get into that. But first, I hope you’re doing okay. Depression is no joke and I hope there’s a light at the end of the tunnel for you.

Second and the reason I’m having a hard time digesting this, it almost feels like I’m being blamed for part of this. That because I didn’t post, it caused this. Maybe that wasn’t the intention and I want to believe you had good intentions by sending this. Maybe it’s because I’m utterly exhausted and reading into this. I don’t know.

Thank you for not posting on time

I’m sorry for anyone who was disappointed that I didn’t share Part 8 on Sunday. I’ve said before that my posting is not firm. My aim is every other Sunday and my intention was to post. My beta reader, who has been on this train since the beginning, has had a lot going on. I will not pressure her into beta reading faster to stick to an informal schedule. I debated not posting for Hold You Tight at all for September due to my own stresses. It’s why I’m not updating any other fic this month.

However. With a very heavy heart I also feel obligated to tell you that I won't be reading your blog or any blog in tumblr for a while.

I’m all for people unleashing their thoughts and feelings. They shouldn’t have to be held inside. Announcing that you’re now going to avoid reading on all blogs, however, I’m not sure how to take that, especially done anonymously. I’m just kind of sad now.

I’m a wife, mom, worker, and I’m tired. I do what I can with what I’m given. Right now, I’m drowning. I will swim to the island eventually, but this is my current reality.

I really do hope you’re doing okay and I’m glad my fics brought you comfort and revelation. Take care. ❤️

[semiweirdshipper]

I wanted to try and explain myself and what's been going on. I know it feels like I've done this a hundred times, but this time I think it's a solid answer because I'm no longer putting myself under unnecessary pressure to make everyone happy.

For archiveofourown.org viewers who don't know, I moved across the country in August of last year (an action that saved me). A lot of crazy, life changing things have happened these past two years. And it's not just my life that's changed. I'VE changed. My thought process is different now.

I've changed so much that, looking back, I almost can't believe that I created this kind of fanfiction. I can't believe that I was so hurt and depressed that I used fictional psychopaths as a way to comfort myself. I was really that sad, and all I wanted was to create scenarios where a reader needed help and got it. By all means I do not regret writing any of my fanfiction. I'm proud of it all.

But after this past year, writing fanfiction hits different. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I'm not hurting as bad anymore. But I still want to write it.

However, this is where things change.

I'm no longer going to pressure myself to do everything everyone wants me to do. I have 6 major stories to update, and they're all I really want to focus on. I've been pinning stress on myself because viewers have been wanting more of this character or that scenario. The slasher dad drabbles are a good example of that. I was so eager to make everyone happy that I overwhelmed myself.

I can't do that anymore.

A lot of my old notes and ideas will probably be different now. My writing might also be different, so expect more errors and grammar mistakes (I just don't have as much time to edit anymore). I'm gonna create an order to update my stories that's comfortable for me. New stories and new Tumblr posts will be completely random. I'm not making any promises for anything.

I still love my stories and my friends and followers with all my heart. I just need to start doing things the way that I need them to be done. Thank you to all those that have still stuck with me. I'm sorry if I seem even weirder than I normally am. Just... A lot of things have changed.

I'm gonna update Reverse The Dancing Knights next because that's what viewers want most, but after that everything I post/update is going to be completely random.

[cowboylikeyouu]

i always love when people have some kind of "get to know me and my fandoms :)" post pinned on their blog, so here‘s mine:

i‘m a german law student, but i like to ignore that fact bc it‘s kinda depressing lol. my favorite activity is to ignore most of my responsibilities and doomscroll on tumblr & tiktok while listening to the same 5 songs over and over again and drink too much coffee ^^

i watch a lot of movies and sometimes i write stuff, so feel free to follow me on letterboxd and ao3 ;) [and if you speak german maybe check out my fanfiktion.de for my german fics :)]

you can yap to me about literally everything, i love love LOVE talking to random people on the internet about random shit!! but here are some of my favorite fandoms and my fav characters & ships from them if u need inspiration :P

marvel (mcu mostly)

favorite characters: CLINT (comic & fanfic version, literally my favorite character of all time i love him to death), tony, nat, bucky, maria

favorite ships: WINTERHAWK (they’re my everything), stony, nat/maria/pepper, kate/yelena

x-men

favorite characters: wade, charles, storm

favorite ships: poolverine, cherik

harry potter

favorite characters: hermione, remus, harry (especially in post war drarry fics), draco, minerva, sirius, fred & george

favorite ships: drarry, wolfstar, romione, deamus, linny

good omens

favorite characters: crowley

favorite ships: do i really have to answer that?

star wars

favorite characters: luke, han, leia, (i‘m an original trilogy girly i‘m sorry), obi-wan, din djarin (pedro pascal is the literal loml can you blame me??7

favorite ships: dinluke <3333333

IT

favorite characters: richie, beverly

favorite ships: reddie, benverly, mike/stan/bill

sherlock bbc

favorite characters: mycroft

favorite ships: johnlock, mystrade

other stuff i’ve seen and really like:

10 things i hate about you (my fav movie ever), little women, httyd, fight club (i have to mention this bc one of my favorite things ever is to annoy straight men by saying that fight club is the gayest movie to ever exist), how i met your mother (my fav show ever), our flag means death, most pixar & disney movies, starkid musicals!!! especially avpm & co obviously, knives out & glass onion, orange is the new black, grey‘s anatomy, shameless, she-ra, bojack horseman, the last of us, hamilton, cats, and so much more, just ask ^^

i post on here about everything i‘m currently obsessed with bc i really don’t want to make separate blogs for separate fandoms, but if you’re only interested in a specific thing just search my page for some of the tags i tend to use :)))

[sweet-as-an-angel]

So Dominic does reveal more when it's safe to do so? OKAY, okay, but what if it takes a lot of time for his beloved to come to trust him? What I mean by that is that some people do not care for their loved one's action simply because they favour them. A normally empathetic person could definitely do that. So if it took around... whatever, 3 years let's say, would he be patient enough if he knew it would lead to his object of affection to basically be okay with everything he does(crazy person behaviour, but it's fictional so it's fiNE)? I'm curious. He's willing to do "anything", but that doesn't mean anything his darling would want specifically. It's anything he would do to get to that specific goal. He isn't exactly known to be nice, especially when he views his kids as burdens. So another question that came to mind, if it hasn't been answered already, would be could he change his mind on his kids? If Y/N likes them, and just really likes kids (even more since they're his), would there be some type of affection growing for them if it came from the simple pattern of "The one I like likes this, therefore I like it."?

Sorry for rambling, I can't seem to pinpoint the man, and he always turns out to be even more vicious than the last ask reveals. I really like how you made him out to be, and as depressing (in the sense that he's a cheater, is clearly insensitive, and would fuck his honey's parent just to excite them?? He's disgustingly intimidating) as I find him to be, it feels more realistic. Would love to punch him, 10/10. Plus he's French. And I'm weak. SO TO SUMMARISE, GOOD WORK, THANK YOU THANK YOU UHM (ỌVỌ)

Thank you so much for writing in, my Lovely ! I am eternally grateful for your kindness and your dedication to reading my posts; I can tell you've even read the more niche ones because you know precisely what Dominic's like ^^. To answer your questions:

Yes, Dominic will only reveal his tendencies to a Darling he can trust wholeheartedly. Granted, he will stow away his true self in order to be with you, but being able to let loose and drop his veneer of humanity is...liberating. That being said, he would only do so if he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his Darling would not only be okay with it, but actively encourage it. He'll settle for the former, though. He knows not to be pushy when Fate hands him a win.

On the topic of whether Dominic would grow to care about his children if you cared for them...Honestly, Dominic is way past the point of forming connections - true, genuine bonds - with anyone that isn't you. And even then, if it's only his superficial charm you're attracted to, Dominic will wear it constantly, if only to make sure you keep loving him. Even at the cost of his real identity. So, to clarify, Dominic won't truly care for his sons. Not in the way that a normal parent would; rather, he views them as highly valuable assets he can use to keep you close to him. And while he may seem to go above and beyond when protecting them, it's only to ensure you don't fall into some kind of stupour if one or both of them ever came to harm.

If they ever did, Dominic would absolutely use the opportunity to convince you to have a child with him. Either through adoption or traditional means, he'll find a way to tether you to him. And no, he won't care about this child, either. Unless it is biologically yours, then he'd feel some sense of responsibility in taking care of it, but only because it is half of you.

Dominic is, for better or worse, an incredibly complex man whose motives stem from something that transcends the very pinnacles of human vicehood, and I'm so glad to hear that you like the way he is characterised, my Darling ^^ !

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

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[empty-movement]

sorry but please... post your akio plastic covered couch tweet here... the world needs to know...

Warning: pics of gross shit happening on the couches

I'll do you one better and include the STORY! So, I, Vanna (note: Yasha mostly does the Tumblr and I mostly do the Twitter,) was smoking enough weed to knock out a large horse or put a very tiny dent in my constant back and shoulder pain, as one does when when they're a middle-aged Registered Nurse in the year 2023. (I'm 39 but it's an old 39, lmao.)

Scrolling through Twitter, I stumble on a fanart of Suletta from Witch of Mercury sitting goofily on a white couch. Now I haven't seen this show yet, but the white couch....looked familiar, and I know the show is very much a descendent of Utena in terms of creative teams. For those that don't know, the series is written by Ichirō Ōkouchi, who also wrote the two Revolutionary Girl Utena novelizations...which if you didn't know about before, you know about now, and can read translated on our site here! (Warning: Touga and Miki uh, in the novels...)

Anyways, so I hop onto my own website and start downloading the images that will constitute receipts, before realizing 1. these images are all on multiple computers feet away from me, 2. the couch isn't an identical match, 3. that'd have been weird anyway, and most importantly, 4:

AKIO'S COUCHES DON'T LOOK RIGHT. OBSERVE:

The edges of the armrests have sloppier upholstery than the blanket I have covering my computer desk. I took the time to tuck seams at least. What is this??

Now it could absolutely be leather, I thought. It would absolutely track. But leather upholstery doesn't look like this. It doesn't wrinkle quite this way. It would have cleaner seams.

No. No that's too shiny for leather. So here I am, presented with this strangeness I'd never really considered in how Akio's couch is drawn, and having spent the last few months learning about my Italian-American family history, my chemically altered ass came to the only reasonable conclusion:

Akio Ohtori has plastic coverings on his white couches, like he's a depression era American in poverty.

Fuck yeah, I though, A HIT TWEET, there, at the end of all Tweeting things. (Yeah I'm working on that, stay tuned, lmao. I of all people know when to bail on stupid men with stupid power.) Because I am me, I framed it as semi serious by pulling a context to explain it out of my ass:

I was joking.

But the replies? They were not. And then I thought about it some more. And I've kept thinking about it. Do I seriously think Ikuhara and Co literally are intentionally drawing a plastic covered couch? Doesn't that feel, Vanna, like a bit of a stretch, even for Utena meta?

Listen to that CRONCH when Akio sits down in episode 31, before Anthy is seen by Nanami. Look, the buttons on the back rest don't quite fit, but the rest? Yeah it kinda does. I was high, but not wrong!?

Akio *does* surround himself with a bizarre hodgepodge of Americana as an aesthetic. The arm garters. The piping and cut of his cowboy-ass shirt. His American car. His mullet. His miniature fucking golf. Why not the plastic covered couch? It's a trope of American poverty that would absolutely have fallen neatly into the diet of American pop culture that influenced Ikuhara. (He makes references to E.T. and The Godfather and Suspiria and all kinds of things in his other work, Utena itself is a little less obvious with individual references but inherits HUGE amounts of vibes from the same content--Ikuhara and Co watched Lost Highway in theaters during the production of the Akio Arc and I will not be convinced otherwise.)

So yeah. That's the story, and that's the theory. Do I seriously believe it was deliberate? Maybe. Probably. Possibly. But it fits so well it's headcanon for me, and in the Utena fandom, pretty much all canon is kind of headcanon so enjoy this one.

What an asshole.

[qqueenofhades]

thank you for your post i’m doing my best to stay informed on the conflict and i’m very young. i feel guilty being quiet as i understand to uplift voices helps prevent their silencing but this has lead me to not critically think about what i’m spreading

it’s been a long month. i’m only a kid and watching the world go to shit like this has been awful, I always wondered how millennials who lived through post nine eleven imperialism coped and god i’m still not sure how.

I am as a white gentile in a position of privilege and mostly my own person is unaffected by the uptick in violence and evil in the world right now. But my friends who i see every day are in more danger due to this conflict and i feel awful that i cannot ever fully understand or fix the deaths of people.

Right now I’m being a bit too reactionary. I’m doing my best but in the end I am not immune to fearmongering and propoganda, especially in these last couple sleepless weeks.

So thank you and everyone who is keeping level heads and desconstructing what’s happening. I’m sorry and i strive to be better. Thank you.

To anyone living in fear right now i’m so sorry. I will listen when you speak.

Once again I just want to say that I am a busy and uninformed student, and I wish that i had more teachers and authority figures that had objective facts to tell me. It’s suffocating to have fake news everywhere but feel powerless if you don’t know anything

it’s ok if you don’t respond to this

Thank you for your post

Thanks for this message and for taking the time to put it into words and to reflect on your own actions and rhetoric. It takes a lot of courage and self-awareness to admit that you were wrong and that you want to do better, and I'm not going to rip into you or blame you or otherwise shame you for it. So I hope this gives you the confidence to read on without feeling like you'll be raked over the coals for it, and open you to hear some ideas for doing things differently.

First, I do have a ton of sympathy for you as a young person who feels overwhelmed and exhausted by all the evil in the world, and is wondering how to get through it, react to it, or otherwise make some kind of moral response in the face of this soul-crushing trauma. I will say here that I am a little bit older than your average Tumblr user (the majority of this site is in their early-mid twenties), I do personally remember 9/11 and its aftermath when a lot of people here weren't even born yet, and I am an academic historian with a doctorate. That does not mean I am better or smarter or More Perfect or whatever at what I say, but it means that I do have a considerable amount of institutional, formal, and professional practice at analyzing a lot of complex information, putting it into words, breaking it down for less-specialist audiences, pointing out logical fallacies, and so forth.

That is not a skill that everyone has, and in the face of nonstop 24-hour news-cycle social media information overload, it can be incredibly difficult to parse it or understand how you're supposed to respond to it or what your moral obligation in response to this knowledge might be. I wrote this ask the other day in response to someone else asking how to improve their critical thinking skills and be more discerning about what they understood, shared, and analyzed. I strongly encourage you to read it, as it addresses a lot of what you're saying about feeling negative, depressed, panicked, angry, and all the other emotions that are naturally evoked in you from reading this stuff nonstop and feeling like the only thing you can (or should) do is immerse your brain in it at all times. In short, that is absolutely the worst environment to do actual substantial analysis or critical thinking, and it is designed so on purpose.

It has been said before, but it bears repeating: the human brain simply is not designed to be constantly aware of all the atrocities in the world and thus (thanks to social media) feeling as if the only way they can do anything about it is to then post the Correct Opinions on social media (regardless of whether these are informed or relevant or otherwise useful). Especially now, the rush to demonstrate Correct Thinking has warped a lot of otherwise well-meaning young people into becoming eager disinformation mouthpieces. There are a TON of explicitly bad-faith actors and far-right fascists who are posting pro-Palestine content (factual or uh, otherwise) because they know that's an instant way to get an audience of said young left-leaning people who will then be suckered into and exposed to their far more dangerous content and mindset, because that is how radicalization works. Even in the support of an obviously worthy cause, you and everyone else ARE NOT IMMUNE to fearmongering, disinformation, and virulently anti-Semitic propaganda, especially when it's being eagerly and constantly offered in a deliberate attempt to radicalize you further into violence and conspiracy theories, turn you against other vulnerable groups and people, and explicitly disengage you from the electoral/political process, which will harm the Democrats and other liberal establishment parties in favor of more far-right radical fascist theocrats and otherwise make everything, everywhere, many orders of magnitude worse.

I know the feeling that you need to do something, and since you're a long way from the conflict, it seems as if posting on social media is the best and/or the only way to go about it. In that environment, and especially right now, you will make mistakes. I know it is difficult in an online environment where popularity or acceptance by your peers often rests on never being wrong about anything (i.e. saying the same thing everyone else is saying), but it always helps to think about what you're doing, what you're saying, and if you actually need the approval of people who are conditioning you, implicitly or explicitly, into negative and violent ideological nihilism.

The hardest thing to understand is that yes, there is a lot of terrible shit going on in the world; no, you cannot personally fix it and you have to accept that as a limitation; yes, there are many multiple and complex causes and reasons for its existence and there is almost never a black-and-white simplistic moral solution that just hasn't been magically implemented yet; yes, it is always worth it to take the time to inform yourself and consider what you're saying, where it comes from, who it helps and who it hurts, and why you feel the need to say it in the first place. Of course you want to help. Of course you want to stop the needless suffering and death that has gone on in the world for millennia and unfortunately, as long as humans are humans, will continue to do so. But even so, take it away Gandalf:

[pechaberriesandsoju]

Change of plans. Please read.

I think I'm going to step away for a while. From the community and just self shipping for a while. I don't know when this happened, but I'm not having fun anymore. I don't feel any joy from this anymore. Reading fan fics doesn't bring any reaction anymore. Seeing fan art barely raises anything in me. Granted, I still get annoyed with seeing ships with my f/os I don't like, but it's a different kind of annoyance. One where I think "they would be better off without me anyways," if that makes sense. I genuinely do not feel anything anymore at the moment, and I'm not sure why or what caused this.

Maybe it's burnout, maybe it's because I'm tired and I'm still trying to get over last year. Maybe it's seasonal depression. Maybe it's something I can't see or think about. I'm not sure all I know is I can't figure out what's causing this and I genuinely can not go on with this.

I'm taking steps back, and I'm going to distance myself. Maybe I'll lurk around on Discord or tumblr, but I'm not sure. But what I do know is I'm just putting everything on pause, and I'm stepping away until I figure something out. If you need me, then dm me, but until then, do me a favor and remember: your f/os love you and cherish you a lot. Stay awesome, and stay safe. I'm sorry. Thank you for reading and understanding.

[p1xiemeat]

I noticed you haven't been as active on social media as you were even a few months ago.. is there any reason? I hope ur okay🖤

aw thank you for checking up on me🥺 honestly i've been struggling on and off with my mental health and trying to find medication that works. i've had it switched a couple times recently and even had a super bad reaction to one that landed me in a mental hospital. (well it was a combination of medication and other stuff.)

i think ive finally found one that works but as most psyche meds do, they've been making me act different. i've grown a bit tired of the kind of content i've been making for a long time now. my interests haven't changed at all. i still have the same interests, i'm just bored of the way i've been presenting them and myself if that makes sense😂

idk if bored is the right word. the "aesthetic"/overall vibe of my social media usually reflects the way i feel. and right now when i log on i see all the things i like but its presented in a way that doesn't feel like myself. its still me but i think in the last couple months i've grown a lot now that i've actually taken steps to learn about my newly diagnosed autism and started getting legitimate help for my bipolar disorder.

what it really comes down to is i just need to organize my brain and my pages on here a lot. i plan on revamping my tumblr and all my other social media to fit how i'm currently feeling. but i just haven't felt like doing it because the smallest tasks like that have reaaally been draining me mentally. it fucking sucks. but its been a lot better since i've had a bit of time to adjust to all the changes i've made for myself.

so i'm thinking i'll probably do a big "update" to all my social media either within the next few days or soonish lol sorry its taken me so long to answer ur anon. like i said, i've been mentally exhausted for a long time now and i just didnt know what the problem was until i was able to start thinking more clearly. having bipolar disorder is so difficult. because its both mania and depression. and it makes it extremely difficult to organize my thoughts when i'm struggling. idk if "regular" ppl deal with that but its always been an issue for me.

my content will most likely still be the same. i just might start adding some new stuff here and there and incorporate a lot of the new styles and aesthetics i've been into as of late. and perhaps diversify my content a bit too, because i have a lot of interests and fascinations with many things that i don't even post about online! 🥰

i hope i was able to give u an answer in the least confusing way possible. i'm terrible at explaining things. especially about myself😂 hence why most of the questions i answer always end up being paragraphs 😭

[guppygiggles]

Hey friend!

Maybe this has been asked before, but was Avery inspired by anyone? ( ·ิϖ·ิ)

I don't think anyone has ever asked me this on this blog! Honestly, I've tried many times to nail down exactly what inspired Avery, but... I never can, not completely.

This is going to get long, I'm sorry.

I turned 30 last year. It wasn't in a "midlife crisis" or depressive kind of way, but I started thinking a lot about how I wanted the rest of my life to go, and what I wanted out of life that I'd never had a chance to have. I decided that there were two things I really yearned to do -- make art, and make friends. I figured a good place to start dipping my toes in would be Tumblr, since I'd used it in the past and I knew there would be a lot of art here to inspire me. And I was inspired... massively. Especially after I started actually drawing, myself. I started getting more ideas at once than I'd ever had in my life, and it triggered a bout of insomnia I am still dealing with now, almost six months later.

The first time I can remember thinking about Avery was during one such sleepless night, desperately trying to coax myself to sleep. Laying in the dark, I'd close my eyes and imagine leaving my body, floating above my apartment complex. I'd wander around like a ghost, exploring places I'd seen, but which are normally inaccessible... private roads, fenced estates, etc. I'd imagine sitting on the edge of a skyscraper, watching the city move beneath me, imagining what people were doing, why they were up so late, etc.

I imagined this many nights... It became a pet fantasy. When I was a kid, I read a book called Billy the Bird by Dick King-Smith, maybe that's where I got the idea... I don't know. Along with the insomnia were vicious bouts of nostalgia, too, so... It's possible.

But, anyway... I'd get lonely.

I wanted someone to talk to, so I imagined someone sitting with me. Someone who could only come out at night, for fear of being seen. Someone for whom sitting on the edge of a skyscraper was no concern, and who could catch me if I fell. I imagined he was soft, gentle... a good listener, maybe even a bit shy. I imagined he was an intellectual, capable of being quite serious, but never dour. He was quick with a smile, and it was easy to make him laugh.

In some respects, I suppose, he was inspired by a friend of mine, who died many years ago. In most ways, he wasn't like Avery at all -- he was extremely blue-collar, the exact opposite of an intellectual, and very outgoing. He was not refined in any way, and could even be quite reckless, at times. But, he had a unique, gentle, innocent sort of kindness that I've found to be exceedingly rare. To know him was to love him, really; he was a hard worker and a fierce friend, someone who wanted nothing more than to love and be loved. My relationship with him and the way his passing affected me touches everything I make and everything I do, intentional or not.

When I was building Avery's character, I was very fascinated by object heads at the time (particularly Prince Robot from Saga), and I was also seeing a lot art for "doctor/scientist" type characters. Despite never playing the game, I liked TF2 fanart, especially of Medic. I thought about other characters I'd fixated on, too, and what exactly I liked about them... Milo Thatch from Atlantis, Data from Star Trek, John from Homestuck, Sans from Undertale, Stanley and the Narrator from The Stanley Parable, Pokemon professors both Oak and Elm, Nightcrawler from X-Men, Wilson from House, Dr. Bashir from DS9... The list goes on, really.

I know this is kind of a non-answer, and I'm sorry about that. It isn't really a clear answer for me, either. All I can really say for sure is this: Avery is the embodiment of everyone and everything I've ever loved, as well as the reflection of my own self-love. Relatively speaking, we just met, but I feel like he's been here the whole time. I've made so many wonderful friends because of him, too! Can't say what the exact moment was, only that now that he's here, I can't imagine life without him. 💙

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia

I'm so sorry you've been experiencing difficulties recently. I'm sending all my love and light your way and hope you start to feel a little less shitty soon.

P.s - Do you mind sharing your tiktok so we can follow you there too? Or is it a private acc?

Lots of love to you <3

It's not private! It's just not updated very often. Overall I'm more active on Instagram. But neither are private. The Tiktok is very art-focused so it might not be what you're looking for. But it's also pretty harmless overall.

And thank you anon <3

The last few days I had to stop writing and like...quickly redo my schedule for December and cut it back a little, which always makes me sad, but I'm trying to conserve my mental health as well as my physical. I realised I met all the criteria for a pretty serious depressive episode late last week (I have, alongside severe PTSD, Major Depressive Disorder, which is the one that will kill me if I don't keep an eye on it -> though I'm happy to report I'm not like in a very like 'I don't want to live' space right now, I can just tell I'm feeling / experiencing a lot of the red flags that go in that direction), and if I don't act now, that tends to lead to pretty bad places.

So I've redone the schedule for December and that will come out likely on Friday or Saturday. And then I'll only be posting during January for half of the month, and not the whole month, and taking off two weeks re: posting. Hopefully these are the sorts of things which will head off me needing to go into hiatus because I desperately don't want to do that <3

I can already tell I'm doing a little better after being a lot firmer with some boundaries, and also just...with myself re: taking more time off. I wish I didn't feel so guilty about it? But that's not anyone's fault here, that's shit to work on with my therapist/s, lol.

Today I spent around 3 hours researching a response to an ask (whoops), and then realised - not through any one person's actions but a bunch at once - that I need to kind of stop engaging with facecast stuff (nothing wrong with facecasting, the problem is wholly on me there and I wish I'd seen that sooner and saved people some pain and saved me from some rudeness).

I put away the shopping (we have a really good grocery delivery system here which is great for my disabilities etc.), and had some raspberries, and put on the Christmas tree lights.

I was so tired at lunch that I could only manage a bowl of cereal (and couldn't eat breakfast. I think my therapist would be like 'why are you putting three hours of research into responding to something instead of focusing on eating food' but well, whoops? Lol. To be fair I thought it would be way easier to answer, but Tumblr's search function is SO broken).

I fed my wonderful cat, Maybe, and got some sleep in the afternoon and then did some writing (1,200 words) on Palmarosa. It's like 7.00pm right now, and I'm going to put up some chapter commentaries on Patreon and Ream.

Tonight I might do some watercolour art, and I'm hoping to finish Palmarosa tomorrow.

December is actually a hard time of year for me anyway. It's the month that has the most chronological / time-based triggers, and my therapists know this and I'm hearing a lot of 'how are you in the lead up to December' which is about to become 'how are you coping with December.'

I'm grateful for small pleasures. Like my dahlias are looking pretty awesome right now. Here's some photos of this week (some art I'm working on, Maybe being cute, or screm, dahlia, Christmas set up, T-Rex ornament, Santa Platypus ornament):