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luvjunie · 6 months

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— Unforgettable ( 4 )

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

pairing: e-1610!miles x fem!reader

contains: angst/conflict (y’all knew it was comin), language, miles being a dunce, gwen and her awkwardness

summary: a bump in with a certain boy at the bodega threatens to ruin your previously perfect afternoon until he offers to fix it. you assumed things would end there, and then you ran into him again. wc: 3,284

a/n: i held onto this for so long my apologies i had to find time to actually sit down and edit it fr fr 😭 i read this a gazillion times to the point i can recite it from memory so if you see any typos or grammar errors no you don’t. recap of part three is in small italics

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He wanted this. He wanted you.

But any chance for another sensical thought was interrupted when the impossible happened. ‘Impossible’ being the multi-layered hexagonal portal that suddenly opened up on his ceiling, and the blonde-haired, gap-toothed girl he thought he'd never see again, appearing with it. Bright and beaming down at him with a heart-halting grin, Miles felt his stomach drop as soon as she spoke.

"Miles!"

Shit.

. . .

Love tears down your walls and leaves you vulnerable in all aspects. The skin you didn't know you wore as a shield to protect you from the unexpected is shed in one swift layer because you don’t care what the unexpected is anymore. All the space that was left for worrying about what’s to come has been stolen to make room for the one who makes your heart flutter faster than you can blink.

Love is waking up in the morning, and before you’ve even wiped the lingering dream from your eyes, you find yourself rolling over in hopes of discovering a text from your favorite person—a blur of letters you’re barely able to make out, but it causes a smile to stretch across your face nonetheless.

It’s what has your thoughts drifting from your conscious at least five times a day, chin tucked in hand, eyes dreamy with the image of him playing over and over again in your mind, face melted into the stupidest grin you’ve ever been able to manifest. It leaves you yearning for him in ways you never imagined before, wanting to see into the places of his soul he’s hidden from the world and even the ones he loves most.

So if that’s love, what’s this feeling that you have now?

What follows closely behind love is the ugly shadow that trails on its heels like a sinking suspicion you can’t shake; the one that’s never acknowledged because things are just too good for you to be worried about all the cons that come with the pros. That biting feeling that often goes undetected until it’s discovered at the most inconvenient of times.

That feeling, the one you couldn’t put a name to before?

Foolish is how you felt right about now.

As you stood in the middle of a lively party for Miles’ father, who was soon to be police captain. It was bustling with excitement, people laughing and chopping it up in every corner, like you should’ve been right about now.

You’d been greeted by almost all of them upon arrival and even managed to run into Miles’ parents, but for some reason, you still had yet to say hello to the one who actually invited you. And you’d been made aware of the reason why when you’d looked up to find him laughing with a girl you’d never seen before, and she definitely wasn’t a cousin. You knew that because you’d met all of them by now in the time you’d spent searching for him.

Miles’ hands were animatedly flying through the air as he explained something to the girl that you couldn’t make out from this far away, and his eyes were lit up in a way you’d never seen them before. Slowly but surely, even though your mind tried to stop the thought from breaking through, you started to wonder if last night meant as much as you thought it did.

The mini-pep talk you’d given yourself to instill courage was immediately deemed insignificant the moment your feet pushed you to start on your way over to them, but still, you tried to ignore the deepening pit in your stomach. You usually prided yourself on being someone who never jumped to conclusions without having an inkling to stand on, but Miles was great at making things you never even knew about yourself come to the surface. Was this one of them?

Your stomach was bubbling with nerves; a sensation of anxiety washing over you. She was the complete opposite of your image, and it made you feel self-conscious about everything, as if you hadn't fallen in love with your reflection in the mirror just before you'd left home. You began to think about how fuzzy your braids were, how you should’ve taken them down last week and redid them like you’d planned instead of ditching that very plan to hang out with Miles instead.

Was your outfit appropriate enough for a family gathering? Maybe you should’ve worn something simpler. Did he like that little snort you always did when you laughed, or did he find it annoying like the last guy did? Maybe you should fix that.

All these questions did a terrible job of hiding what you were truly worried about.

Miles was so involved in his conversation that he didn’t take notice of you walking over. It must’ve slipped his mind that he told you to meet him here and that he would introduce you to his family. Instead, you were left to fend for yourself until his parents caught sight of you being handed a baby even they didn’t know the name of.

And by the stupidly shocked look he sported as you popped up in front of the both of them, it seemed as if he’d forgotten that he invited you in the first place.

As a reflex, you dipped your hands into the pockets of his coat and forged the nicest smile you could muster as your eyes wandered over to the girl.

“Hey Miles, who's this?”

“Oh! Uh, Y/n, this is Gwen-“ the girl suddenly shot him a look you couldn’t decipher, eyes widened in warning, and Miles instantly froze.

The hell was that?

“Gw-Gwaaanda...” he continued shakily after correcting himself, brows raised toward her in silent question. He then motioned back and forth between the two of you. “Gwanda, this is Y/n. My, uh… My…” Miles trailed off, your lips parted in anticipation, and it looked as if he’d suddenly lost his train of thought.

"Your?" You cocked your head at him the slightest, expectant eyes urging him to continue.

“My friend.”

Gwen stared at him incredulously. His oversized jacket stuck out like a sore thumb on you, but a physical hint wasn’t needed. She was able to guess who you were to him the moment you stepped out onto the roof. Or who you were supposed to be.

“Your friend?” Your brows furrowed when you repeated what he’d said in disbelief. You couldn't even tell if the look he’d given you was one of pity, or remorse.

“Wow,” you breathed a lifeless laugh, lashes fluttering to keep the tears at bay with a small nod. You’d never felt so embarrassed. Your throat had that burning sensation that was all too familiar—the one that feels as if your chest is caving in on itself with the weight of disappointment. Heartbreak, you think, is what they call it. You’ve never experienced it before, but you assumed this is what it must feel like.

Gwen shifted from one foot to the other, her hand awkwardly clasped onto her opposing arm while her wide blue eyes darted between the two of you. The shift in energy was palpable, like there was a visible force pushing the both of you apart.

It was her, she realized.

She’s the force.

She suddenly cleared her throat.

“Is anyone else like, really cold right now?” Gwen's hand nervously gestured towards the air with a stale chuckle. “Cause, boy, it is definitely chilly today!”

“Here,” Your throat pushed down the godforsaken lump that was forming as you forcefully tugged Miles’ coat off your body as if it burned your skin.

“Have Miles’ jacket. I don’t need it anymore, anyway.” Thrusting the bundled green puffer into her loose hold, you ignored the graze of disbelieving eyes burning into the side of your head and adjusted your shirt as if you could somehow make it conduct more warmth. Fuck, it was chilly today.

Gwen, Gwanda, or whatever the hell her name just gaped at you.

“I—“

Miles extended a hand to you in a meaningless attempt. “Y/n stop, it’s yours-“

“It’s not. Never was.”

You weren’t talking about the jacket.

You were gone faster than you came—faster than you’d even fallen for him, which was surprising, to say the least. Ducking your body under the railing and jumping down onto the deck, you pointedly ignored the stairs descending from it. If there had been a faster route than the one you took to haul ass out of there, you would’ve snatched it in seconds.

In just a minute, everything had crumbled right in front of him, and Miles stood there and let it happen.

Gwen recognized the look in your eyes; it’d been the same one Miles had given her last year when he confessed to her and she told him they couldn’t be together. Not because she didn’t want to, but because the circumstances just wouldn’t allow it.

As if things weren’t bad enough already, Gwen spoke cautiously, lips rolled inwards and Miles’ jacket loosely clutched in her hands.

“I don’t know if it’s just me, but I think she was expecting you to put another word in front of 'friend'."

“Shit.”

His feet were moving before he even realized he was chasing after you. He narrowly dodged the sea of bodies blocking him from getting to you, his eyes scanning the roof in hopes of spotting the top of your head.

“Miles, wait!” His aunt called out to him. “Your mom is about to cut the cake! Where are you going?”

Miles hastily shouted a response to her with a hand cupped around his mouth, his feet moving backwards to keep up with his pace.

“Back in a sec!”

You pushed through the crowd with your head ducked, sincere apologies muffled to those you bumped into, and a few unwelcome tears rolling over the apple of your cheek as you did so.

“Sweetie, wait! You don’t want cake?”

Without making eye contact, you gave a rushed wave goodbye and a thank you to Rio and Jeff, whisking past the pair. That probably didn’t help your case, but what just happened between you and her son could probably be inferred, because you weren’t wearing his jacket like you were just a moment ago, and Miles’ previously giddy conversation looked as if it’d come to a screeching halt as she noticed that the painfully awkward girl she’d met earlier was standing by herself now.

Rio’s shoulders dropped with a knowing sigh as she watched you retreat.

“Ay, I told you that Gwanda girl was bad news, Jeff!” She grumbled with pursed lips, expression painted with disappointment to match her folded arms.

Your temporary wallowing had turned to rage in mere moments, made known in the way your hands shoved the door to the stairwell open with way more force than needed.

“Wait!” He slid his way through the doorway before it could close, managing to step in front of you before you could reach the stairs.

“Was yesterday and everything before then just a joke to you?” You stared daggers into his eyes after you’d whipped around, your gaze flitting between the both of them to find an answer faster than he could verbally give. “Because apparently, when you’re around whoever that is you forget about everything else.”

“What—No! Of course not." Miles quickly shook his head. Somehow, trouble always seemed to find him when Gwen was around. “She’s just a friend. I just, I haven’t seen her in a while—“

“Isn’t that what you called me back there? A friend?” You scoffed, arms crossing as if they could possibly shield your heart from taking any more damage. You knew you weren't giving him much of a chance to give an explanation, but right about now you felt as if he didn't deserve the chance. “Do you make out with all your friends on the roof or was I some sort of exception?”

“Y/n,” His shoulders dropped at that, and you almost found yourself feeling bad for saying such a thing. “I don’t know why I said that. I just—I froze up, and I’m sorry. But you’re more than that to me, I swear.”

“It sure doesn’t seem like it.” The saliva that was starting to pool in your mouth was aggravating you, but somehow at the same time your throat was incredibly dry. So dry that it had you struggling to make your voice into something more than whisper when he took a step forward, and when you took one back.

“Don’t.“ you said, shaking your head, and Miles grimaced slightly at the subtle crack in your voice. “Do you know how long I waited for you? How stupid I looked wandering around until I found you when I don’t know anyone but your parents? You invited me!”

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. Just last night, he’d made you feel as if you were the only girl in the entire world, but now it seemed like the world had gotten a whole lot bigger.

Whether you wanted to know the answer or not, you had to ask. So with a shaky inhale, you readied yourself for the worst, and so did he.

“Is she somebody to you?”

You watched as he swallowed, hard. Adam’s apple bobbing like his mind was for the truth. Gwen was just a friend. Now, at least. Telling you what you clearly already knew wouldn’t make you feel any better, but lying about it would only make things worse.

Miles bit at his cheek when his gaze drifted off to the side. You felt your heart sink at what came next.

“It… It was a long time ago. But I don’t feel that way anymore.”

Your eyes began to dampen again as they held contact with his for a pain-stricken moment, but a dejected once-over from head to toe and a repulsed frown was all you could spare him.

It felt as if the silence between you was much longer than a few seconds. With his chest rising and falling, Miles' throat was filled with words he knew you wouldn't believe. After what just happened, how would you? There was nothing he could say to rectify how badly he’d just embarrassed you and he knew that. And by the look of betrayal on your face and how your shoulder bumped his arm when you shoved past him, it seemed you wouldn’t even give him the chance.

Miles watched you descend down the stairs, his jaw clenched and his heart cramping with it.

What did he just do?

—

Maybe telling his parents what happened hadn’t been the best idea after all. But after calling you three times and leaving a voice message after each dreaded beep, just to find out at his third attempt that you’d disabled your voicemail box, he truly didn’t know what else to do.

And honestly, it’s not like he really had a choice when it came to telling them. After a couple awkward minutes of standing with a jacket that so obviously did not belong to her, Gwen cautiously returned it to his parents and hurriedly made her exit, which only left them with more questions than they had before.

They realized it was serious when Miles never came back in for a slice of cake.

Tres Leches! Miles never missed out on tres leches.

Rio was more than concerned when she knocked on his door and carefully cracked it open after no response to find her son face down in his pillow, curtains closed and his room in disarray.

She took a seat next to his curled-up form, face tinged with worry. “What happened, papa? Why’d she leave?”

Jeff settled for standing near the foot of his bed. “Yeah, son. She looked a little upset.”

Miles heaved out a sigh as he pulled his body into a seated position, hands running over his face as if they’d erase the memory from his mind. “I kinda… Like—When it came to introducing her to Gwanda, I… hesitated? I guess?” Miles mumbled, his voice raising a slight octave with the last word, as if he were just as confused as they were. Somehow, saying what happened out loud made him realize just how badly he’d messed up.

“Wooo, that’s bad.” Jeff sucked a breath in through his teeth and chuckled quietly, rocking from heel to toe at his son’s confession.

Rio rolled her eyes at her husband who wasn’t much of any help at all when it came to things like this. She lifted her chin attentively at Miles to let him know that she was genuinely listening.

“Well, you introduced her eventually…Right?“

“Yeah,” Miles confirmed, only to wince afterwards. “…As a friend.”

Rio’s mouth dropped. “Miles!”

“I know! I just— I froze! I don’t know why.” His head dropped into his hands in shame, elbows perched on bent knees.

“Alright, son. You gotta help me out here.” Jeff sighed. “So you’re telling me that the young lady who’s in our house almost every week, who we’ve been referring to as your girlfriend when she knocks on the door, isn’t your girlfriend?”

“I— She is, or… she was— isn’t? Anymore?” Something like an agitated groan mixed with a huff left Miles’ lips as he tried speaking again.

“She was going to be. I was gonna ask her up there which is why I invited her, but then Gwen just— showed up out of nowhere last night, and then I kinda sorta invited her too—“

“Last night? You had a girl in here?” Rio arched a brow.

“Who’s Gwen?” Jeff voiced his confusion quietly, eyes glancing to the side.

“Fuck, not Gwen, I meant Gwanda—“

Rio raised not one, but two disbelieving brows as Miles frantically shook his head.

“Damnit, I didn’t mean to say fuck—“ His eyes snapped up to see his parents’ faces painted with pure and utter shock at his choice of words. Again.

“Shit, wait! I—Oh God.” Miles let his head fall back into his hands as he groaned, tufts of hair clenched between his fingers. “Just help me, please.” He whined.

“Yup, that’s all you, honey.” Jeff nodded at Rio and patted his thighs with his hands that were starting to grow clammy, as if he’d actually done something useful before he discreetly slipped out the door.

Rio couldn’t stand to see her son so distraught, so she made the difficult decision to hear him out instead of addressing the string of curses he’d sent their way, or whatever happened ‘last night’.

“Respira, mijo,” She barely had to pull him into her, his body fell into her embrace the moment her hand graced his shoulder. “I thought you really liked this girl... I even invited her for Thanksgiving!” Rio gently rubbed up and down his arm, comforting him in the way she knew how.

“I do!” he insisted. “A lot… I’m just an idiot who messed things up, and now she probably hates me.”

She pulled him away by his shoulders, looking into his eyes intently to make sure she got her point across.

“Listen to me. You are not an idiot, papa. A little slow to understand sometimes, yes—“ Miles rolled his head to the side in annoyance, but she gently brought his face back to her with a hand on his cheek.

“But—you always get there because you’re smart. And I know that, because your father and I raised you to be.” Miles almost managed a smile when Rio softly pinched his cheek. “That also means you’re smart enough to know that you’ve hurt someone you care about.”

“But… What if I can’t fix it?” Miles' voice was heavy with uncertainty. “Then what do I do?”

“Well, that’s life, papa. Not everything is something you can fix, but you won’t know unless you try.” Her hands fixed the crooked hemline of the cotton thermal beneath his jersey, gently smoothing out the wrinkles with flattened fingers.

“It’s a leap of faith, Miles. That’s all.”

. . .

a/n: tres leches was a total self insert that shit is fire

taglist: @burymeinside @secret-ssociety @whatamidoing89 @urmotherswhor3 @valovesyou @inlovewithfictionalppl @edgyficuselastica @motherwanda @mybfmiles @axeoverblade @miumiulicious @sukisprettyface @gwennesy @simpnotapimp @kanvis @cleo-dearts @retirement-home @lunaramune @silas-222 @citrusequalsfrogs @itsberrydreemurstuff @spritecranverry @mewhenimanangel @wisteriaflowersss @chadychadyy2k @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @junipurr101 @bakugouswaif @luvdenisposts @aleluvsuu @wonylxv @attractivepie @cry1ngmyey3sout @silas-222 @idkkk343

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#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x black reader #miles morales x fem!reader #earth 1610 miles x you #earth 1610 miles x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales fic #1610 miles x reader

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tarjapearce · 4 months

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Chapter 6: But Chaos Clings Within

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mild depictions of violence, emotional distress, mentions of mental illness, mentions of meds during pregnancies, graphic depictions of panic attacks, comfort towards the end, a squeeze of character background. Sexual language, Character study. No Proofread.

Summary: Just when things couldn't go worst, Miguel proves you wrong.

A/N: I do not condone toxic relationships or behaviors, much less encourage them. English is not my main so excuse any typos c:

Sorry for the wait, finally got the time to get this out :'). Internship is eating my soul. Feedback much appreciated ❤️. Enjoy!

Miguel O'Hara. Lab technician from the research department. Successful scientist, the best of his generation, the million dollar brain, as Sully had called him once, married to science, hard working man-

His calloused pads pinched the bridge of his nose.

And a cheater.

A deep exhale heaved through his already rigid nose, muscles hardening from the tension that always held an obsessed grip on his body. Like a ghost, permanent, silent and always manifesting in the least proper moments.

A liar,

He pulled the keys out from the slot, and grabbed in a single hand the stacked and unused boxes on the passenger's seat. Hoarding wasn't in his traits, as he'd rather to invest in things that nurtured his self or shut Dana up, like the ring she tossed on his chest after the elephant popped in the parking lot.

Hollow-hearted lover

This would be his last time entering the place that had been his shared home for the past four and a half years. His apartment judged him with it's silence, glaring his way from every ivory and smooth wall he walked by. Sneering at his life choices with minor inconveniences, that only added to his piled up and ever heavy stress load.

He walked towards the elevator, knowing by heart the buttons he needed to press. Moving towards the turns and angles he needed, to reach his soon long gone home.

Of course lights would be on, the new owner was already making some impromptu renovations in the trampled and spat on love nest. His keys, another thing he'd have to surrender later, were pushed inside the doorknob, to then open past the gates he always made sure to double lock before sleeping.

Dana's voice filled in the living room, followed by another he knew too well by the many times she'd welcomed him at Christmas gatherings. Blanca. Her older sister.

And a reluctant daddy.

The women stopped their talk as Miguel peeked over the door, hulking frame swallowing the narrow hall connecting to the jasmine smelling living room. There was no effusive greeting this time. No welcome home hugs, nothing but silence and an bungled up smile his way from Blanca.

The woman knew better than anyone that neither Miguel or Dana were perfect. Innocently mistaking the dreadful silence and tension between as another couple quarrel.

Does she knows?

Her demureness didn't give any hints that she actually did. And it was enough for him. He wasn't in his nines to hear another hysteric fit of how much of a coward he was, or how the consequences would be out there to get him sooner or later.

Another Tyler Stone.

"Gotta go"

She hugged Dana, and then him.

"Hope everything gets better soon." She'd mumbled through whispers.

The eldest of the D'Angelo siblings spoke with a sympathetic smile before leaving for the night. Almost running in her way out to avoid being used, as usual, as a mediator.

The door clicked quietly, and it was Dana's turn to heave a tired and languid breath, yet she didn't speak. Instead, she went over the kitchen to prepare some tea.

It was more than enough cue for him to mind his business and pack away the last bits of his belongings.

Some work tools, books, diplomas and the last bits of his clothes. To his surprise, they were neatly arranged and folded in a bag.

Eyes darted towards the kitchen where Dana was. Unbothered, focused on selecting the perfect mug for her comfort drink, ignoring his existence.

It didn't feel too different when they had a fight. The aftermaths were either them lying naked, breathless and laughing like loons or silence. It all depended on how bad the fight was and who displayed the ultimate final punch.

Miguel was usually the winner, leaving Dana in the corner of shame, nursing her defeat. But this time, she had won, a flawless and clean victory.

He hated it.

Cause it didn't matter how much he tried to come up with a comeback, there wasn't any. Her beating was too powerful to even fight back, leaving him on the floor, stunned but not wounded.

The boxes were filled in matter of minutes. The more he took away the more he realized his absence wasn't even acknowledged.

Dana had already filled in those spaces, and his things being removed only added a little mess in the neatly organized place if anything.

He wasn't missed.

In fact, the nattily folded clothes only reinforced his suspicion of Dana having her subtle way of hurrying his process, to get out of her home, her life and heart.

He took turns to fill in the void space of his car, accommodating the boxes and containers in a way to not damage anything fragile. One last box was everything that remained, reducing the countdown to mere minutes. He returned at the apartment to get his books.

Hefty pages easily carried in the cardboard recipient. As he lifted it like nothing, one of his thighs knocked over a golden, minimalistic and borderline abstract statuette next to the coffee table.

Dana's rushing steps made his scowl to deepen at the sudden accident.

"Goddammit, Miguel!"

It was her favorite. A tall figure cradling a small bundle. His best interpretation was a mother and his baby she had gotten in a gentrified decor shop, something that started after they talked about kids in the long run. She had gotten the supposed sacred and good luck figurine merely out of superstition.

And now it laid broken, in tiny shards on the floor, impossible to be glued back.

Dana brought the broom and the garbage collector to sweep off the pieces.

Miguel bent to pick up the bigger shards but Dana's stern voice stopped him

"Just leave it." She squeezed between him and the coffee table to pick up the pieces with such care it felt like picking herself up, "You've done enough." That's what she had been doing these past days.

Try and glue back all the pieces Miguel made sure to wham away with a sledgehammer.

"Dana"

Miguel's voice felt like a terse loofa on her tender skin, scrubbing raw and flushed red.

Blue gaze pinned him on the spot, a silent What from her. Sadly, they knew each other too well to ignore the subtle signs in the body language. Miguel crouched next to her, taking the rickety broom and plastic collector from her hands.

"Let me."

"Just leave, Miguel."

It was more a plead than anything. But stubborn was the main trait engraved into his brain ever since he was born.

"Dana, mi vida, look-"

"Miguel."

Her tone final. His hands rose up, defense in them.

"I'm sorry, ok?"

A shameless scoff escaped her pouty lips, while she retrieved the tools from his hands.

"The only thing you're sorry about is that you got caught, Miguel."

"I tried to correct-"

Dana took a sharp inhale before speaking, calmly. "You don't get it, do you?"

"I didn't think it would come to this, really. The condom-"

"Ugh! Stop. Stop!"

Dana had to take her distance from him, but he tried to reach out. A futile attempt as his ex fiancé slapped almost too gently his meaty palm. Away from her, disgusted and irked.

"You think I wanna hear how you fucked the receptionist? You should learn a thing or two from her-"

There it was. The bickering he loved, and the perfect chance to win her back. He didn't know if delusion hung high his brain today, but he was somehow convinced that Dana would tell him to stay. To fix everything. Delusion at it's finest.

"She was a slip-"

"And that slip and mistake ended up being pregnant and now she's trying to correct your fuck ups."

His brow quirked, suspicion rising at her sudden mellow talk.

"Didn't know you were her personal friend." His arms crossed while a hubristic smile stretched on his face. Seizing her with derision," Drank tea with her too?"

He was sure his eyes rolled so hard it hurt.

"My goodness. And to think I was about to marry you..."

Miguel snorted, cynic as usual "Stop acting surprised. Don't be a hypocrite you know how-."

"Hypocrite?! It's called empathy, jackass. Maybe you should learn it. While you're making fun of her and acting like we can go back to normal, she's desperate to find a solution to a problem you refuse to address or even acknowledge."

"For all I know, she could be lying and blame it on me," he tried to reason. But to no avail.

"You can't be serious right now. How messed up you must be to believe such thing when moments ago you admitted something happened?!"

Miguel's hands went on his hips, grounding himself to avoid invading her personal bubble more than he already was.

Another cloyed sigh from the brunette, "Unlike you, at least she's adult enough to face her problems and give the child for adoption."

A cold shudder came down his spine. Was his hearing right?

"Disculpa, qué?" He had to blink the frown and scowl that immediately took his countenance a hostage, but to no avail. It was another blow Dana gave him on the floor. Merciless as she was, she'd give him no truce.

"Adoption. A-D-O-P-T-"

"Fucking funny. The fuck you mean adoption?"

"I'm not here to amuse you."

And in truth he was far from being entertained. His brain had gone into an flout, ignoring his rationale, doused in glacial water that froze all attempt into logic thinking. Body buzzed with something ghastly, unable to be properly processed as it remained as a knot in his throat.

No. You couldn't.

"She can't be that stupid-"

"She's not stupid. She's assuming the consequences. As you should be!"

His hands no longer remained on him, too perturbed to stay still. They rubbed a bit too hard on his face, a twitch popped in his eye.

"No, she's... she's being fucking stupid. I.. I gave her-"

"A check to get rid of if. Yeah, I know." Dana crossed her arms while seizing his newly disturbed state. Steely nerves were something used to describe him, but this insecure and fearful man before her was everything but composed.

"She can't..." The ramble with himself continued, not really caring if Dana joined or not.

But you were keeping the child. Against his wishes.

How dared you?

His mind tried so hard that a painful pulsation echoed inside his skull. Hurting itself in the process of trying to understand why on earth would you keep a baby while having all the stakes at odds.

"She will. That's not up to you to decide."

"No, no, you don't understand, Dana. She can't have-"

"Well, too bad cause she's keepin-"

In a flurry of anger, his hands slapped the broom away from her grip, with such force she yelped, startled "Cállate!"

He roared and Dana recoiled, wide eyes in terror. It didn't matter how many times he clawed at his scalp, in an hopeless attempt to smear away the news. He heaved, realizing too late his mistake.

"I'm-"

"You need to leave."

His ex's voice was too calm, too kind, despite his aggression. It no longer held that bickering and holding a grudge like usual. It was devoid of all emotion, denying him the satisfaction of baiting and engaging into his game.

But he certainly wasn't there for a laugh anymore. Reality was always bitter and disappointing.

Heart jerked, menacing to splinter and rive at any second, fury flowed through his bloodstream, like a drug. Feeding his brain cortex with a much unrequited high of cortisol.

How could you? He gave you the money, yet you decided to do him dirty. Were you taking revenge? Without a doubt, and now you'd bring everything he had worked on so hard for, down and away.

In a place of a much higher shelf he, even with his height, could not reach. Like a timeout for his grown ass self.

But he wouldn't allow you. He refused to have his own story play on repeat once again.

He was set into finish this once and for all.

His anxiety had taken his nerves for an unwilling ride. Not only he had to wait for an extra hour for you to clock out, but he also had to face you once more.

Miguel was convinced that you had influenced his mind in such a way he was starting to believe you were his bad luck charm.

You were there in his revenge. You were there when Dana dumped him. He saw your sweet and fury-inducing face when the higher and richer bunch dejected his proposal in a subtle way it had given him hope. And somehow you still managed to get into Dana's head and root for you, when the woman usually remained on a neutral line or rather to not get involved at all, even if it somehow affected her personally.

You had tipped the balance completely on your favor. And now, the rotten cherry of his Frankenstein of cake, was knowing you were to take the pregnancy to a full term, when he had specifically told you to get rid of it.

His million dollar brain couldn't come up with a logical and quantifiable explanation as to why.

Why? Why? Why? So. many why's and little responses.

She wants to screw me over.

A malicious frown came to his lip, twitching ever slightly, temper already boiling underneath.

He wouldn't let you. Not when his career was taking a fly, the rejection was a little mishap, but nothing that he couldn't fix in a future.

He left for his car, ten minutes before the clock ticked at five pm. Your leaving hour. Silent and steadfast steps advanced towards the parking lot. Where everything had started. Where bad luck and unfortunate decisions from the universe begun to hunt him down.

Where his life took such a radical change for the worst. His nose flared upon the realization.

You brought the worst out of him.

Made him act out of his usual composed and calculating self. Forced him to conduct out of his pattern, taking impromptu choices wasn't who he was.

Lashing out when he'd keep his mouth shut. Behaving recklessly when he'd analyze the situation first, deeming it worthy to get involved or not. Saying things out of place when he knew he needed to remain shut, reaching to the points of threatening and mastering the arts of deceiving.

And now, you were forcing a role he didn't want, yet knew he had self imposed it. He knew the condom broke, he knew that he needed to change it.

But damned be his lust and hormones fluctuation, your deliciously sweet scent that somehow was engraved into his memory, the snug and tight cunt that had made his mind a puddle. And your fucking righteousness to accept your consequences that exposed him and his lies.

And once again, a reluctant daddy.

You've turned his life upside down. Everything he had carefully and methodically crafted, was now on the floor, ruined. Tarnished beyond repair. You were chaos.

He had given you the resources to end the problem, yet you spat on his face. Repaid him with aversion. And he was now set in finding out the answers he needed.

He saw your head peeking out from the elevator, going to your little and toy looking car. Pretty doll playing with danger.

Keys dangled, along a daisy shaped keychain in your hands, swaying back and forth at the rhythm of your steps.

The clinking drowned the heavy echoes of his leather covered feet, noticing him a little too late as he slammed your car's door shut, prowling over before you could enter.

"W-What the fuck?!"

Breath hitched, eyes widened in alarm as your skin crawled when meeting his accusing and dern gaze. Brain flaring with the dangers alarm, panic simmering on the slow burner.

You nearly stumbled while backing up as he stalked you.

"What's wrong with you?!" Your eyes closed as he yelled. Angry breath fanned on your shaky self.

For a second it wasn't Miguel that yelled, but Mother.

Body reacting with muscle memory by raising your arms up, trying to create more space between you both. Miguel was burning in wrath and it scorched you.

"I fucking gave you the chance to handle this, and you decide to keep it?!"

Hulking frame loomed over, reducing your existence even further as he slammed his closed fist in the hood of your car, startling you even more. He was violence.

"Get away from me!" With a brave push, your body made the great effort in pushing him off you. He barely budged, but his nose flared fumes, instead he took your wrists with a single hand and pulled you closer so you could properly have a piece of his mind.

"You don't understand, don't you?" You wriggled your hands and he bared his teeth, nearly colliding your foreheads together.

"You think I'm scared of you?!" But in truth, you were terrified beyond your wits. Heart wasn't beating, but pounding painfully the more you struggled.

"I don't want that child" He seethed through clenched teeth

"Let me go!"

"No te voy a permitir que me arruines la vida" (I won't allow you to ruin my life)

"I swear if you don't let me go, I'll scream!."

His grip loosened enough for you to wriggle your limbs away from his reach but he quickly clutched on you again, ignoring the the measly threat, desperate to find the answers you were reluctant to give him "Why are you keeping it?" He shook your body, "Why?!"

He panted in his frenzied state, and you whimpered at his manhandling. But the familiarity of violence in your life didn't break you instantly. Just made you irrational if anything.

"That's none of your business."

His chest puffed up, hand on your car's hood. He wasn't letting you go that easily. His gaze asserted dominance while stalking your own, moving his head along yours when you finally managed to free yourself from his grasp.

"Where is the check?"

"I tore it" His muscles tensed, nails digging in the fat of his hand, holding back a biting comeback, "Now get away from me."

Miguel heaved. Ire and frustration fighting over who gave the last punch. You were driving him insane, and not in the way he indulged.

"You must be the dumbest person I've known. All you had to do was to go to a fucking clinic and get yourself fixed! Why didn't you listen?!"

"Oh, fuck off!" This time the effort in your body as you pushed the wall of muscles was greater. A little light-headedness swooned over your sight. His eyes narrowed upon you exhaling through your mouth, repeatedly. Setting a pace while holding your lower back.

Physical exertion had you panting, but the emotional toll he had just put you through drained you completely. Like a vampire feeding off your sanity.

"You're sadly mistaken if you think I'll help with-"

"I'm not fucking asking you to. I've never asked and never fucking will!"

It was your time to roar while tears menaced to escape and roll down, "What makes you think I want anything that comes from you so you can throw it at my face later?"

Voice broke with a new found bravado that seeped through your panicked cracks, sick of him intimidating you, but your fight enticed him. He loved the sense of control he inflicted, it fuelled him and stroked his ego in such pleasant ways that had him folding.

"If you wanna play mommy, fine by me, but don't you dare saying I didn't try to help."

"Your fucking help was to hide your mistake before Dana found out" You gritted through teeth and he smirked, taunting even further

"You're not ready to be a mother-"

"Oh and you think you'd be a good father? You know shit about it." Vitriol dripped with every mouthful of your mind.

The two were too focused in marring each other as much as you could with words while struggling to keep afloat. He was drowning you, but you pulled him down. If you sunk, he was coming down too.

"That's precisely what I paid you for, pinche pendeja!" (Dumb bitch)

His tinge was everything but polite or caring. It didn't help that your head spun, you had to take a moment to scramble away to retch out behind a car. Slumping against the metallic structure for support.

His face squeezed into a disgusted expression at the noises you did. Concern and empathy wasn't in his vocabulary neither in his life. He just stood there, watching your hands curl as your body begged you to stop munching on his bait.

"Fuck off." you mumbled while wiping your lips with the back of your palm once the nausea subsided enough.

"What did you say?" His head tilted, vexed and amused you still had the energy to keep the bonfire alive and soaring. Just the way he liked. He was ready for round two.

"Fuck. Off."

It was the last thing you threw before scrambling to your car and locked the door. His bold hand already on the handle, doing his damnedest to pry it open. Hands banging on the now shaky glass, demanding for you to come out.

You drove away as he yelled something foreign.

The ambush had left you shaken to your very core, and just when you stopped on a red light, you finally noticed your trembling limbs, clenching on the steering wheel, anchoring to it.

Stop it stop it stop it-

Heart subdued into a claustrophobic beat within your ribcage, head spun, palpitations turned into powerful plows on your torso. Breath hitched, erratic, panicky.

No, no, no!

All you could see and hear was mommy dearest yelling, brain already sending the defense signals to your childish arms. Covering from the imminent physical lash out she'd provide after you accidentally dropped your drink in the floor.

What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Many things if honest. Eyes bleary with fat tears, panic rose the more your brain forced you to remember . Fresh belt marks burned into your arms and legs.

Nausea went rampant, but with the little strength you had, fingers moved to dial MJ's phone number between muffled sobs.

Chest rose and fell, into a frenzied breathing pattern, the unceasing honkings from the cars behind you drowned your terrified weeps. It didn't help your terrified state.

The distant voice of MJ kept ringing in your ears, imploring for you to reply, Your abdomen cramped, and your mouth screamed. Brain loaded with so much information, it was impossible to process properly.

The ringing in your ears sharpened, phone too heavy on your hands, lights came and go, dancing in such a hurried haze, forcing to clutch your chest.

A dark shadow hovered over the car's window, moving it's limbs frantically, lips moved but you couldn't hear a thing.

Mind too dazed with the past to be on the now. More shadows joined narrowing the space for light and reason, panic broke hell loose.

Throat burned at the shrill it gave out. Nails sunk on your skin. You had tried, but the shadows were stronger. And they engulfed you.

Sweetie

The muddled thoughts thrown together in a tiny space that begged for order.

Your name was called, lights danced before your eyes, following your irises movement, lids immediately covered them, a whine joined the messed up party.

"Hey, Babe."

You knew that voice. The Nyquil for your pained soul and berated brain. Soft fingers cupped your cheeks, gently turning your face upwards.

"It's me, MJ"

Touch toured to your hands, enveloping your limb in a warm embrace. Lungs exhaled a way too relaxed breath. Almost paused.

The milieu before you slowly took shape. Abstract lines and forms melding together into a red spot. It's angelic voice lured your liquified brain back to a solid mass, earning a lucid moment of thinking.

MJ. It was MJ.

"There you are" Her smile too tainted with sadness to pass as one of her genuine ones.

Your body buzzed with waves of something you couldn't pinpoint, but it felt good. Heavenly almost.

Your eyes blinked lazily, one after another, even your breathings were sluggish. Hand twitched, regaining the lost movement.

Body felt like a feather, weightless, suspended in air, floating, dreaming of silly things that definitely put an imperceptible smile in your lips. Too good to a washed up and spent you.

But the doctor's nasal voice brought you back within a few blinks. The chest hurt and itched, the urge to rub the pained area turned overwhelming, and that's when your senses came into clarity.

Finally able to discern between the abstract and intangibility from your secluded surroundings. White ceiling and walls, indistinct voices playing in the background.

Machines beeped, monitoring your heart, and so many other things you couldn't swot on even if you tried to. The stench of chemicals and sterile air permeated your tired lungs.

Phones rang unceasingly somewhere in the ostracised cubicle, fenced with a plastic curtain that separated you from the rest. Concealing your panic from prying stares. Mouth could be mistaken for the Sahara desert due the arid weather inside your crevice, swallowing was painful.

But not as painful at the look in Mary Jane gorgeous eyes.

"Hey"

She whispered as her hand squeezed tight enough for you to know she was there. That hwr presence wasn't a dream. A tired and meek hum rumbled in your throat, acknowledging her.

"Welcome back."

Her warm fingers left you for a moment, skin already missing her comfort, as yours lacked temperature, and even so in a clumsy attempt to raise your hand, you realized a bit too late that, your wrist were restrained on each side of the automated bed.

MJ disappeared for a moment to bring you a tall glass of water. She pressed a button and the bed's frame instantly bent smoothly to rise your torso upwards, transitioning your body into a lax sitting position.

Leaden legs by instinct spreaded a bit more at the uncomfortable pressure on your lower belly.

"Here." MJ brought the glass to your lips and poured gently the vital liquid, quenching slowly but surely the thirst you were oppressed into.

An elder man with salt and pepper hair entered your cubicle with a clipboard in hands, examining your state with a brief quizzical and medical stare.

"Hello! Sorry you wake up like that, but we had to sedate you. You were hurting yourself. "

It now explained the delicious high you didn't want to leave from.

"The baby is fine."

The baby. The creature you grew inside the now polluted guts, suffered no damage. But you had received all the aftermath. And something you had truly forgotten about.

People had left their cars, to certainly give you a piece of mind, but their approach changed drastically upon watching you crying, screaming and fainting. In that order.

Someone had called an ambulance as MJ bolted to your location. By the time the ambulance came, you were quanked and unconscious to recall anything.

MJ sat next to you as Mayday laid in her arms, tired, rosy mouth ajar, safe. Like she should. Like any child should.

None of you dared to speak, she knew you'd reach out when needed. And what you required was rest.

"It's alright, I'm right here."

The doctor called you by your name softly, explaining.

"Is there anyone in your family with mental illnesses?"

"My..." throat rasped, weak and broken words came out. You tried again after clearing the windpipe with a cough.

"My mother. All I know is that she had this Post-partum, uh... Psy..."

Eyes squinted, trying to remember the name.

"Post-partum Psychosis?"

"That thing."

A vehement nod from you.

"This gets a bit trickier then. You see. Right off the start, and I apologize for the sudden news. This will be a complicated pregnancy."

Shit...

MJ's face sobered, but her hand gripping yours never faltered.

"Complicated as in delivery or..." MJ inquired.

"The size of the baby, and the environmental stress only adds more weight to this. You're near the twelve weeks, and even so, passing them doesn't guarantee your baby's safety."

Your eyes squinted, confused. "Meaning?"

"The first trimester of the pregnancy is the most difficult and dangerous. Miscarriage is a higher risk."

You swallowed, hard. Free fingers crumpled the sheets underneath them.

"And I don't know what happened before you were brought here, but it was severe enough to trigger a panic attack. We had to sedate you for a bit so we could run some tests."

"Is she able to leave soon?"

"Until tomorrow. We have to monitor you and the baby responses to meds."

Fuck me.

"Meds?" The word familiar enough to recall those forbidden remembrances you always tried hard to bury for good.

"Zoloft. We still debating on it. It's safe, so don't worry. How often does these attacks happen?" routine questions really.

"It was the first one in months. The first while pregnant actually."

The doctor scribbled in the clipboard while nodding to then release your sore wrist from their confinements. A little bruising forming in them in the shape of fingers.

"Still it's an extra precaution we need to take. And some vitamins and minerals you need. Some of your readings came low, so to minimize the risk of miscarriage, I suggest you to seek a less stress inducing environment."

"I see."

In truth, you stopped paying attention after the last bit.

How and when on earth you'd find a new job in such short amount of time? Were the meds expensive?, Did your insurance even covered them or this barbed joke your body pulled out flawlessly?

Hospital night stays weren't cheap, and dread only slithered towards your head, constricting your brain in a myriad of questions that fought to be wondered first.

But one thing was certain. You needed rest and a new job. Since raise was out of the question. The doctor left, and you felt Mary Jane's burning oggling on your weakened frame.

"What happened?"

A simple yet complicated question. Reluctance once again showed up in your lips, sealing them momentarily.

"I need to know what's going on to help you"

"MJ..."

"I'm worried about you."

"I know..." Head hung, defeated, "I'm so sorry for being a burden, you were probably busy and-"

Your best friend chided your name, like she'd scold her own child.

"Darling, We've know each other for what? Five? Six years now?"

"Six when I pass the first trimester"

She chuckled, "Almost six years knowing our deepest secrets and you believe you're a burden for me. Don't be ridiculous."

Her soft hand squeezed yours tighter.

"You'd never be a burden for me, alright? I just wanna know what happened."

Her ever honest and see-through peer revealed nothing but unalloyed concern and care.

"Miguel happened." You heaved.

Her honeyed and caring look instantly hardened at the name.

"What did he do?"

"He found out somehow that I'd give the baby for adoption. And he didn't like it. Ambushed me in the parking lot and-"

"I need you to stop right there, dear. cause if you keep talking I'll call Alchemax myself and will report him for harassment."

"It wouldn't matter. He's like a god in there."

"And still, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And that man, is going down for sure."

It surprised you to see such viciousness in MJ's usual demure demeanor. Even though your only wish was to be left alone, deep down you hoped that Miguel reaped what he had sown.

And to your luck, universe was listening your heart's whims for once.

Taglist:

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#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara angst #miguel angst #miguel x you #Of Flowers and Hummingbirds

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shojizbae · 17 days

Text

Gone South

Spencer Reid x Reader

This was not edited so if there’s hella typos I’ll prolly fix it later

Warnings: angst/comfort, gore, torture, attempted SA

Things could not have gone worse.

The case had been going on for a week and a half. Everyone was exhausted. And now, you were gone. Well not gone, the team had clear visuals via the many cameras the unsub (the team knew his name, Cooper McNamara) had set up. Garcia was monitoring you from the seven angles Cooper had.

The team always takes it to heart if someone gets hurt. But, when someone got taken in. When Spencer had been taken by Tobias they felt like the world stopped spinning. Now their sun had been stolen.

That’s how the team refers to you—human sunshine. Now you were gone. There, but gone. Penelope was monitoring each feed with tears in her eyes.

“All right, mama, any luck triangulating the IP address?”

“No Derek I’m sorry it keeps rerouting to different locations.” Her voice keeps cracking and she’s doing her best not to let her tears drip onto her expensive keyboard.

“That’s okay, just keep working on it.” He grits his jaw

“Derek,” he removes his hand from the hang-up button, “you’re going to get her right? There’s no way this guy gets her.” The hope in voice is palpable

“No way mama you just keep tracking her.” He sighs and spins to the team. Rosie has his eyes on the feed as well as McNamara is hovering over you. You’re strapped to some medical tables with old leather straps.

“Reid please tell me you’ve got something.” Spencer is a wreck. Everyone could tell that he was madly in love with you but he would not make a move. Now someone could strip naked in front of him and it could not break his focus.

“I’ve been staring at this map and going over everything she’s sadi since JJ put this on the screen. I have no idea where she is.” His hair is beyond tousled form the amount of times he’s stressfully run his hands through it

“That’s fine, just keep going.” Morgan demands and joins Hotchner with the deputy

“Hotch, team’s loosing morale. We gotta go back to the drawing board.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Let’s refresh and restart the profile.” they get some shitty police precints coffe and some stale donuts to try to revamp their energy. They join Emily and JJ at a table and ask JJ to get David. She disapears and Rossi takes her place rubbing his eyes.

“Dave, we’re going to look at this iwht fresh eyes. Coopers has gone off the reailsand taken in an FBI agent. That’s an escalation from prostitutes and drug addicts.” Morgan reflects on when you disapeared. You were canvasings where he had picked up his last three victims. You were being your usual sunny self. giving patience to the angry locals and offering water or snacks as a subtle bribery. He turned his back for five seconds when you disapeared. He was feeling the brunt of the guilt and it was manifesting as him acting like an overly abusive boss.

“Alright, on all of the victims there was several injections in their back thigh, but toxicology was clean.” Emily looks over some of the reports.

“Did you say the back of the thigh?” Reids suddenly comes storming into the meeting room

“Yeah, why?” Morgans eyes are begging for answers

“That spot reminds me of something. Often times when a psych ward patient is acting out they will inject them with certain medications. The most common sedtive is Midazolam but most of them are comprized of natural hormones. If you inject the body with enough adrenaline they would pass out.”

“Which would explain that why it doesn’t show up on toxicolgy.” Emily concludes. Reid bounds over to the phone and calls Garcia, she picks up almost immediately

“What is it my birds of prey?”

“We need you to look into asylums and sanitariums nearby. Look for medical malpractice or lawsuits that slipped through via non compus mentus. look into owners of these hospitals that may have some allegations specifically of sexual nature.” he demands

“Anything, find my girl.” she clicks away looking through all the yucky of the nearby hospitals. They were in the middle of the midwest where everyone had secrets.

“They’re going to need a private space to inflict a much torutre without raiing suspicion.” Hotch adds

“Guys you need to get in here!” JJ calls from the computer room. The man was livestreaming you leaning over your head and heavily breathing on your face.

“Oh, you want me so bad.” He used a sultry tease but you looked disgusted. You were staring hard in his eyes. You had dirt and a bit of blood smeared on your face and your normally slicked bun had been tugged apart.

“Tell me, Ms. ‘FBI agent’,” he finger quotes and uses a mocking tone “What your name.”

“You have my badge Cooper McNamara, you know my name.” your gaze hardens more and it looks like you could spit in his face, “Tell me where we are.” you order. If you could get out you would have beat that man to a pulp but your wrists, ankles, waist and chest were bound.

“Unh unh unh, don’t get too cocky, Ms. FBI we both know who has the power here.”

“He’s a narcisist. He’s flexing his muscles on (Y/n). He wants his viewers to know that he’s strong enough to take down an FBI agent.”

“It’s more like he’s preening his feathers.” Emily offers

“Alright, my fabulous frenulum I’ve got three asylums with icky enough histories to raise suspicion in the 50 mile radius.”

“50 miles that seems extraneous.” JJ sighs

“I figured becuase this is the midwest there’s more ground to cover alos they’re not going to keep your cuckoos in the town square.” The Deputy nods in approval

“But that’s too vague so I cross referenced that with the nme Cooper McNamara and zilch. I went thorugh med school flunkies in the known area. I kept running the name and there are zip

Cooper McNamaras in this area. So I just used the last name Mcnanara and there was a doctor named Charles Mcnamara with a son named Jeffrey was in and out of juvie at the age of seventten for attempted sexual assault.”

“What’s his current adress We’ll send a team.” Reid declares

“That’s not your call,” Derek orders, “But yes, Hotch, Prentiss, you go to his house and see if there any clues as to which hospital he’s affiliated with.”

‘Cooper’ was hovering over you this time dragging a swiss armry knife slowly over your shirt

“Alright I’m going to do some bad things Ms, Agent and you’re going to be a good girl.” He’s straddling the chair and he laughs a little at you. Quickly he slices the blade across your shirt and it comes undone with the blade. Your bra is exposed as well some of your navel. The team can clearly see the red cut across your chest.

“Oh my god what is that slimeball doing to my girl.” Garcia whimpers

“Garcia she’s fine, continue your background search of the McNamara family.” Hotch reassures

mostly to himself

“So far I’ve got some ick-ick icky dirt on Charles. He had to his medical liscene in pschiatry suspened 17 years ago, when his son, Jeffrey was around ten years old.”

“Why was it suspended?”

“Medical malpractice and the excessive use of electro-shock therapy.”

“the use of ETC is almost never necesarry in fact it dos more damage than it helps.” Reid borws are in a constant furrow. Theyre drawn out of their brainstorm a ‘Cooper’ shreds the rest of your shirt open.

“I’ll hand it you,” He reaches for the cup of your bra, “you have have some tits officer.” you grunt out a ‘fuck you’ as he fondles you.

“Maybe I just will,” He sneers. He makes the fatal mistake of looking at the cameria kense and you follow his eyeline. You spot the lense and by memory locate the six others. You feel some internal relief that at least the team knows you’re alive and they’re watching you.

“you get off on rewatching this or are we live? Or maybe you’re recording?”

“Oh someones mouthy.”

“I’m just bored.” You taunt

“What is she doing?” JJ Panics

“She’s getting him to talk. Shes profiling him. She’s our profiler.” David smiles and the team too feels your humanity return. You’re not a victim. Not yet at least. You’re still their wisecracking little sunray.

“You bitch, I’ll shut you up.” He reaches for his belt and launches at you. Your first instict wa to bare your teeth shut so he can’t slip something in your mouth. Your mouth is shut tight and he relaxes.

“Good choice.” he snorts

“He doesn’t want to hurt her.” David notices “She’s way too powerful for his comfort. He knows she’s smart.”

“If he’s able to get his website to continue rerouting we should probably verify that Jeffrey McNamara has some sort of tech background” Reid metions and Garcia digs into Jeffrey’s background it shows that 5 years ago he flunked out of the local community college with a major in computer science. Finally, the IP adress lags on the same three cell towers for the fourth time and Penelope Verifies that there are two sanitariums in that radius.

“Alright there is St, Joan of Arc’s Penitentiary and Whitfeilder and Collins Mental Institution.” Garcia clicks away.

“Garcia isn’t there a church nearby-“

“St. Joan of Arc’s Holy Parish.” She cuts off getting a small burst of hope

“Alright cross reference that with our boys see if we could get any dirt.” Rossi orders as you stare this torturous serial killer in the eye

“I think my knife and I should have some fun with you, pig. Are your gonna squee for your boss.?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here.” Everyone freezes

“What’s she doing?” JJ begs

“What do you mean?”

“I was only asking locals if there was something they needed. I work in the low income control division of the FBI. I was on a routine check of the neighborhood to makme sure that some new medications that were sent out in the local clinic.”

“Oh so you’re one of those libtards who thinks junkiw should get freebies?” your eyes dart quickly to the blinking red light while he inspects the red tool. He flicks his swiss army knife back open and runs it tantalizingly down your chest, “Oh no tears agent? Usually they start crying by now. Don’t worry you’ll cry soon.” He sinks the blade in right by your ribs. You grit your teeth as warm blood spills down your side.

“What’s she doing? why would she egg him on?” JJ starts to break

“She’s giving us the element of surprise.” David sighs in relief

“Oooh someones a tough girl.” He teases. He slides his blade across your stomach and your muscles tense below the blade. Tears pool in your tear ducts against your wishes and a grin splits his face like the cheshire cat.

“There you go. don’t worry it’ll all be over soon.” He fakes a soothing voice

“Ding ding ding, Ive got a hit. There was an latar boy who plead secial assault twenty years ago at St. Joan of Arcs and I mangaed to dig through the St Joan Hospital emplyment record to find one Dr. Charles McNamara employed for over thrity years where he specialized in child psychology.” Garcia gulps, “He spent a weekend in jail for assaulting the preist who allegedy molested his son, Jeff. Afterwards he deovolded. He started drinking lots of alcohol and expirementing with electro shock therapy. After three years of nearly fatal expirements He lost his liscense after a one Suzanne ’Suzie’ Addams passed due to exhaustion in his office.”

Rossi’s hand held rings and he answers the phone for Hotch

“Well Dave it’s not looking good here. There’s news paper clippings with every know victim taped to his wall. Theres even some miscellanoes crime pannels logging there recent spike in missing persons cases. There’s very little furntiure at his house. He’s got bills stacked up on his counter. He’s a walking cry for help.”

“Alright any other pysical evidence? We’re going to send a team to St. Joan of Arcs Penitentiary that’s where we suspect he has (Y/n). You keep digging around and we’ll stay in touch.”

Derek orders JJ, and Reid to suit up and gather the officers. Reid already has his hand reaching for his bulletproof vest. “Rossi I want you to stay behind on the line with Garcia and Prentiss in case he escalates the torture. Due to the agrarian location of the hospital they dispatch forest rangers to canvas the woodlands. The sanitarium had been closed for upwards of five years. Reid get’s the drivers seat and starts the car before Derek can get out the door.

“Slow down man we got visuals on her.”

“One of our best Agents is in danger and we have a location. Why wouldn’t we race off to her?” He slams his palm on the drivers wheel.

“Alright well calm down man,” As he tries to soothe hsi phone rings

“He’s back Derek.” Rossi states plainly sending the link to his phone. And impressive feat for the old man, Morgan gets in hte dirvers seat and clicks the link to see the man sitting on your lap palming himself.

“You know you’re kinda pretty for a pig.” He leans forward and hold your jaw and you gnash against his hold, “Oh oh oh let’s not get violent now.” you bite his hand and he draws it back immediately, “You bitch!” he slaps you and you gasp but he quickly undoes his buckle and reaches for the fly of his jeans. He slides the leather out of the denim loopholes and folds it once and puts it in your mouth. He reaches in his pants and you thrash against your holds.

Jeffrey fishes himself out and you slam your head against the medical table. Your time your cheek and grit your jaw but he forcefully pull you square with him. The look of indigence could’ve killed several monarchies and Rossi takes a note not to piss you off as not to receive that glare. Derek puts the screen down and grits his jaw. theres a bit of gagging before the man rears backs

“You bitch! You bit me?” He screams like you betrayed him and he punches you so hard your nose starts bleeding. Tears slip out of your eyes but you don’t dare sob. He leaves the view of the camera and the team hears metal crashing around the sounds cords being plugged in. He curses and punches what sounds like a metal box. He comes back with two metal probes and a menacing smile.

“You’re gonna get it now. You know what these are?” He waves them around like they’re toys “these are the electrodes I’m going to use on you.” Reid floors it as he hears the button click on and a distant buzzing sound fills the film.

“Here,” he violently pulls his belt from his jeans, “wouldn’t want you to shatter those pearly whites.” This is the one command you will obey. You take the folded material between your teeth because if you do survive this you’d rather not waste your vacation bonus on orthodontics. And if you didn’t you at least would like to have a nice smile in the after life.

Morgan and Reid peel out of the town sirens ablazing. They try not concentrate on it as you scream around the hunk of brown leather between your teeth. Not matter how much he concentrates on the road ahead of him he count every bawl you let escape. Every time he makes a mental note. As he takes the exit that lead to the woods he sighs, seven. He pictures your sun shiny smile in the morning.

How you would skip over to his desk with an extra-sweet cup of coffee and a good joke you had heard on your weekend away to New York. Eight, he thought of how intently you had listened to him ramble about string theory on the plane ride over and how when he stopped himself to apologize you begged him to keep going.

Nine, when the case came around the table your eyes darkened with a bit of sorrow which was drowned by your hope and determination to crack it. Now you were ten, letting him practice brewing your hair in a motel just because the skill fascinated him. Man your hair was so soft and smelled to good. And you just melted under his hands as he apprehensively finger combed it.

The sanitarium is in the middle of the woods. A small commercial concrete building. There officers confirmed that there was a car out back and garcia checked the plate regitration was for a Charles Mcnamara. They quietly burst through the front doors which were ajar. Spencer lead the charge follwoing the sounds of your pained screams. He runs down a flight of staris and kicks it open. Despite his panic for his coworker Morgan was incredibly proud of Reid for kicking it open.

McNamara is straddled over you and he swings his head to see Reid. Before anything can happen Spencer shoots him in the knee and Morgan barks an order and jumps on the man. Reid bolsters his gun and darts over to you. You look a mess. Blood and possibly some other body substances on you. He slides the belt out of your mouth and you lick your lips. He sits by your side and undoes the buckles on your wrists

“Hi (Y/n),” He sighs soothingly. Your eyes are locked on his and there’s something animalistic and wounded in them.

“Spencer?” your voice is broken but there is so much hope

“Yeah I’m here,” He works the second buckle off your wrist. “You did so good.” he reassures. He undoes the strap across your chest and you sit up and rub your wrists. He takes a step back to unshackle your ankles. Once you’re free, you swing yor legs to the side of the medical chair. Spencer stands next to you and guides your arms arond his neck. You sink all your weight against his chest and he gently coaxes an arm under your knees and picks you up.

“I did good?” You start sobbing into his chest

“Yeah you did fantastic (Y/n). and your safe now, I’ve got you.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #mathew gray gubler #torture #angst with a happy ending

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ellequarius · 7 months

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STATES SUCESS STORY

My success actually happened many months back but i'm just now getting around to talking about it 😭 If there’s typos ignore it I just got my nails done and it's hard to type.

On new years eve I was scrolling around on Pinterest making my vision board for 2023 and I came across a video on becoming your dream person. Basically It said to create an alter ego, this alter ego would be your dream self and whenever you made a decision or had a thought ask yourself, would your yn (your alter ego) do/think this?

I applied this to almost every thought I had. "would my alter ego buy this?" "Would she say this?" "Would she allow someone to say that to her?" After about two weeks of doing this i noticed my face changing, it looked different my features were more enhanced and I thought I looked prettier. Now this was all happening winter 2023, and i'm not a winter girlie 😭 but AS SOON as spring rolls around that's when I truly feel the shift.

I became more confident and someone literally stopped me in the streets to tell me how beautiful I am. I went thrifting literally almost every other week and always found clothes that suited me. I'd get cash from my father literally every other day. I would walk past people and they would literally do double takes. It is important not to think from a victim mindset when changing states.

I am black, and I live in Northeastern America. Obviously beauty standards here are very strict and people of color are excluded from these standards. But did I worry about this while I was in the state of being drop dead gorgeous? No. I listened to subliminals and made the assumption that everyone thought I was attractive, and guess what it's true! Guys literally walk into walls after looking at me. I loved listening to subliminals with music that reminded me of the vs angels and a french teacher at my school said I looked like a model yesterday!!

I recommend working on self-concept before you change states or during. DO NOT LIMIT YOURSELF. Don't feel bad if you're feeling down some days and are criticizing your looks, it's ok to feel sad.

I will remain in this state for the rest of my life because tbh it makes life so much easier. I used to be a really introverted kid with depression and social anxiety, I still have the anxiety but I didn't let that stop me from getting my manifestations. DON'T LET ANYTHING STOP YOU.

(feel free to ask me any questions. + another success story being dropped soon!) xoxo elle 💋

#loa #manifesting #loa affirmations #loa tumblr #neville goddard #sammy ingram #self concept #edward art #success stories

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idkaguyorsomething · 5 months

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now that percy jackson is trending, it’s finally time to share my fuckin crack fic idea/theory with y’all:

okay so in the universe of pjo we’re shown that the trademark attributes that signal divine heritage in a half blood are having their brain wired in a way ideal to their survival which often manifests itself as adhd and dyslexia. since half bloods are thrust into life-or-death scenarios from a very young age, it’s important that they can trust their instincts, even if to an outsider they might just look extremely reckless and lucky, while having the ability to excel in certain areas beyond what any mortal could accomplish, usually under the domain of their divine parentage. additionally, since their brains are made to process ancient greek better than their native language, plenty of them have to work extra hard to cover up mistakes that they make in academic areas, such as typos and missed deadlines.

so, ¿you know who has a knack for getting into encounters with incredibly dangerous beings at an almost hilarious rate, hyperfocuses on their work while often struggling with the conventions expected of them in their line of work, acts impulsively but still has good instincts, is sometimes depicted as having problems with spelling things despite working in a writing-heavy profession, and lives in a world where greek gods exist?

(IMAGE ID: Lois Lane from My Adventures With Superman posing confidently)

#this isn’t specific to this version of her in particular btw #that’s just one of the first things that came up when i googled her name #sure it has absolutely zero backing whatsoever #but it’s my crack theory and i get to decide the rules #might make a fun au actually #no clue who her godly parent would be tho #could totally see her as a hermes or apollo kid #leave your own suggestions #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #superman #my adventures with superman #lois lane #you’ll have to pry my adhd lois headcanon out of my cold dead hands

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venuscnjunctpluto · 1 year

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Jersey Shore astrology observations

(excuse any typos I’m doing this before class lol)

Credit: @venuscnjunctpluto

*Jwoww is a libra moon + sag mars like me and she was always my favorite. She did really try to mediate certain situations but she was definitely not gonna back down from a fight. ✨A healthy balance of trying to keep the peace but then punching the first person who disrupts it✨

*Pisces are sassy asf and sometimes borderline rude. In a weird way they can get away w it but it can get annoying. I notice Pisces placements get into arguments with eachother alot (jwoww and Sammie are both Pisces suns)

*i think friends can have a lot of moon square moon aspects. Snooki and Jwoww had moon square moon and so did Pauly and Vinny. It’s weird because it’s supposed to highlight emotional misunderstandings yet so many close friends have it.

*Jwoww and Pauly had Venus square Venus, sun trine sun, moon opposite moon, and almost her venus opposite his mars, her moon conjunct his Pluto, her pluto trine his sun, and mercury trine mercury. Maybe the Venus-mars aspect is why they never became a thing. Also they both seemed to really value their friendship so I suspect some 11th house synastry as well.

*Snooki is a sag sun +cap moon and Ik one other person w this combo and it’s rough. They can play around a lot but they are very responsible people deep down but others don’t really see it. They can be denounced as goofy.

*jwoww also has mars-Uranus which is a temper indicator and we all remember when she slapped tf out of Mike😭 but she also has mars conjunct Saturn and seemed to have alot of restraint in situations you think she would blow up so idk it was a weird back and forth.

*angelina has a 0 degree leo mercury and she’s the perfect example of one. She talks sooo loud and is so extra😭 she also has mercury-Pluto😅

*Deena was my favorite after Jenny and she has a air moon + fire Venus and mars combination like me. She’s a good example of a sag Venus we are here for a good time and the second the environment is not fun; we’re out🫶🏾. Also she has a Aries mars but ended up being one of the most calm cast members. Once again not every Aries mars has uncontrollable anger issues in adulthood because that’s energy they would have had to manage at a younger age.

*her and Pauly also had moon conjunct venus. This is the purest synastry aspects because these two just like eachother. Think of the scene where deena was sitting on his lap for comfort after witnessing Ronnie and Mike have a roid rage boxing match🥺

*Snooki also has Venus-Saturn and venus-Chiron and it’s sad that this can manifest as someone with insecurities about their worthiness of Iove and feeling defeated in relationships. Her insecurities were displayed a lot on the show which was sad to see bc she’s gorgeous and fun.

*her and Vinny were both sag venuses and libra mars (born two weeks apart) the same aspects she has on her Venus he has similar aspects to his mars so I can see the attraction. For example: a woman w Venus conjunct moon and a man w mars conjunct Venus could be attracted to eachother

*going back to what I said about Vinny and Snooki having similar charts. Both of them have mars square mars w Angelina. They show two manifestations of this synastry aspect. You might literally wanna kill eachother (Snooki and Angelina) or it causes tension which stems from sexual attraction (Angelina and Vinny). The exception is mutable mars might not have this much of a problem.

*Pauly D is another example of a Gemini Venus who dates outside of his race. He also is funny asf which most Gemini venuses are.

* my original mission is to find out why Mike was sooo messy😭 he has sun square mars, libra placements, Gemini placements, and a sag moon. The ego issues can bring somebody who is very conceited and takes anything as a slight to their ego. Gemini placements notice everything thing and I think this is why they can be the most messy people. They have more information than everybody else and use it to their advantage. The libra mars makes him charming enough to think his antics won’t catch up to him. Plus mercury-pluto which can make someone print to lying (Snooki has this as well😭)

*Sammie and Ronnie have Venus square pluto synastry and it reminds me of blueface and chrisean but less openly violent than them (the bar is in hell) She came off as needy and jealous (Venus) but anytime she tried to leave he would find a way to keep her there (Pluto) . She was miserable walking around the house crying all day. The Venus person always takes it hard in this dynamic.

*jennys mars conjuncts Ronnie’s sun and her moon is conjunct his mars. I think they’re friendship was very deep and Sam took her jealousy out on Jenny because she misinterpreted. (And im sure Ron spoke to Jenny at certain times bc he knew it would hurt sam)

#astro notes #astro observations #jersey shore #pisces

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cantsomeoneelsedoit · 1 month

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Ch 50: It's Up to You Now

Failure Is Not An Option: A Shoujo Story About Love and Monsters

UMA Autumn has gotten both bigger and stronger from eating people while Fuuko and Andy were in the book. Andy suggests that it's starting to enter its second phase and busts out a new move:

Autumn can regenerate! That's perfect for Rip, except...

he can't even injure it in the first place because he's still just a kid!

We get to see Latla's ride, and it's a motorized broom of some kind. I hadn't really thought of her as a witch before this, but I guess it makes sense since she can predict the future. Her side-saddle riding is so cute. Is Latla a magical girl now?

She's got her back turned to Autumn both because it's gross and so she can make a quick getaway if she needs to. I don't blame her tbh.

Anno Un says they'll draw an Artifact that can capture Autumn while the group distracts it. Rip asks Latla to fact check Anno Un and we FINALLY get an explanation for her ability.

Also, I kinda can't believe Viz hasn't fixed Andy's typo in the first panel. I wonder if they fixed it in the print edition. UU is usually pretty clean, so it caught my eye.

Anno Un reflects on their strange life as they draw the Artifact with the G Liner in their mouth. The first object Akira manifested from a drawing was a little car, and that discovery led to the creation of Anno Un.

Once they had a human avatar, they tried to visit Akira's mom, but she had already passed.

Akira couldn't bear to even look, and so Anno Un did the grieving for him. Anno Un did all the things that Akira couldn't, including drawing those characters that little Akira had been so eager to show her:

Each character is described by their relationships and loyalties to other characters. It's their relationships and interplay that make up the core of the story, no matter what the plot is.

Beyond the fact that his mom likes handsome (adult) characters, I think she would like Rip because Rip also lost someone. I don't believe there's ever an explanation for what happened to Akira's father, but it must've been a loss at some point, whether through death, divorce, or abandonment.

Akira's mom took a different path than Rip by devoting herself to those who remained instead of pining for the one who left. After all, she had a kid to care for, and there wasn't anything supernatural she could do to bring Akira's father back, unlike Rip using the Ark. But she probably understands his feelings very well. After losing Akira, I'm sure she'd do anything to find him again.

Anno Un uses the Life Is Strange Artifact on Rip and turns him back into an adult. Latla's expression is hilarious:

With his prosthetics getting taller and his shorts shrinking, Rip's kinda got an Absolute Area/zettai ryouiki thing going on! (Which reminds me to add that Tatiana's ability is named after the A.T. Fields in Eva, which are protective barriers like Tatiana's that expand around the users. Which of course, got turned into a stocking fetish by otaku...)

ANYWAY, Rip already knows how the Artifact works because it's the same thing that Feng used on him when Andy almost killed him. It causes the user to age 10x whatever they aged the target.

Rip has a moment of pure kindness and offers to use the Artifact on Anno Un to try to even out the damage, but they won't allow him. The look on Rip's face in this bottom panel is a turning point.

It's like he realized how much they knew already and how much they really did care about him. Rip has a hard time understanding selflessness and altruism, like when Fuuko saved Chikara. And here's someone he barely knows--someone he was recently trying to kill--and they're willing to sacrifice themselves for his sake. Rip's expression is childlike, which is funny since he just got aged up.

Rip is still stunned as Anno Un fades away, leaving only the tracksuit, Soul Caliber, and the broken G Liner. The unlikely team of five will have to fight the rest of the battle without their advice. Will we ever see Akira again?!

Masterpost

#undead unluck #overreading undead unluck

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douglysium · 2 months

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Episode 5 TMP Quick Thoughts

Housekeeping and Prologue

Hello, this is Douglysium and you might not know me as that guy who wrote over 100 pages of analysis on the Eye (which can be read on Tumblr here (https://douglysium.tumblr.com/post/735599414228484097/the-relationships-between-the-dread-powers-the) or Google Docs here (The Relationships Between the Dread Powers: The Eye- Knowledge is Fear and Ignorance is Bliss)) or as that guy who wrote an article on the Extinction (which can be read on Tumblr here(https://douglysium.tumblr.com/post/717929126195003392/what-would-avatars-of-the-extinction-be-like-a) and Google Docs here(What would Avatars of the Extinction be like?: A TMA Speculation)). Suffice to say I might be a bit of a TMA fan. Also, spoilers for TMP up until episode 4. You can read my ramblings on the last episode here (TMP Quick Thoughts 4).

However, Protocol offers a very unique opportunity and experience for me because I didn’t actually get into TMA until after it was over and I binged all of it. So this is my first time experiencing something even remotely similar to what the original TMA fans probably experienced when waiting for each episode week by week and slowly having to put everything together with the limited information they had. So I decided to throw my hat into the ring since this might be my only chance to do something similar. However, I’m working on some longer form TMA content so I can’t spend as much time on these articles giving a bunch of super detailed thoughts. I will try to keep these short and that inevitably might mean some could have questions about why I think or predict certain things and in those cases I would probably recommend you read at least some of the two articles I mentioned above to get a better idea of where I’m coming from. This also means I won’t be giving you a play-by-play of every single thing that happens in the episode so I encourage you to listen to or read them yourselves and feel free to comment if you feel something is important.

These reviews are probably going to end up focusing mostly on the Entities and their manifestations as they are what I have thought about the most and spent the most time interpreting and there’s been a lot of… interesting theories floating around about how the Entities are manifesting that I want to go over.

Finally, I’m just going to say it right now, spoiler warning for all of The Magnus Archives. I know that Jon and co said one could start with Protocol and be fine, and while that’s probably true, media like this tends to be made in conversation with or take into consideration what came before it in the irl chronology in order to connect them. While I’m sure you could skip The Magnus Archives, I don't really see the point of skipping over it when we are already getting characters from TMA showing up in TMP in Protocol. So to me it’s pretty clear that if we want to understand the full picture of TMP and all the things it is trying to say then we can’t just try to pretend TMA doesn’t exist or scrub it away. Just because you could understand what’s happening without the context in broad strokes doesn’t mean you're getting all the nuances.

These articles are meant to be quick and short so sorry if there’s typos and if I don’t address every possible question or possibility. I don’t want to repeat myself too much in this series outside of the prologue so be sure to skim some of my other articles.

Episode 5 “Personal Screening”

If you ask me, the statement in this episode is almost definitely Eye aligned and it’s one of the most Eye flavored statements I’ve seen in a while. But let’s try to slow down and walk through some bits of the episode. Like always it may be an act of hubris to view TMP through the lens of Smirke’s 14 (and potentially The Extinction if I feel it comes to it) but even if I’m wrong I still find this to be fun and the parallels interesting.

Like always, we are hearing the story of TMP from the perspective of something / someone listening in via device and the transcripts clarify that this time we are listening through a landline.

Sam enters Lena’s office to express his worry about Colin’s paranoia and says “Well, today I found him crawling along the corridor, yanking out wires and muttering to himself.” and points out that Colin has “added all those locks to his office door and he refuses to even go near a camera now…” I feel like this mirrors TMA in how we see a coworker becoming worried about another coworker's increasing paranoia. And, similar to Jon, Colin’s paranoia in part seems to be coming from the feeling that he is being watched or monitored by something. I maintain that if the Entities are present then the O.I.A.R. is at least partially connected to the Eye and we see Colin is even becoming afraid of being seen by cameras and the like.

I think it’s also interesting that Lena says this “Right. Well firstly, thank you for raising this with me Sam. It’s important we don’t keep secrets here.” which feels a lot like some ominous foreshadowing we don’t yet understand. The Eye is all about having no privacy and exposing secrets and Colin seems to indeed be keeping some sort of secret. Not only that, but considering what Gwen saw last episode Lena is also keeping at least one secret.

There actually seem to be a lot of parallels or allusions to TMA structurally or thematically. Many of the statements sure but also the roles certain characters play. Sam is too curious for his own good like Jon and may be here to look into a previous encounter with the supernatural, some have pointed out that Alice and Tim both seem to cope with jokes, and Lena is a shady boss like Elias / Jonah. Just to be clear I’m not saying these are 1-to-1 or are meant to be alternate versions of each other or something. Rather that either The Eye tends to attract certain people, that this is meant to be a reference (Sort of like how how Part 7 and onwards in JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure have many direct references and parallels to other characters even though they aren’t always the exact same person / personality or one-to-one), or we are going to end up with some extrapolation, divergence, and / or commentaries on these similarities (either directly or indirectly).

However, long story short, Lena dismisses these claims and basically tells Sam not to worry, schedule a meeting next time, and mind his own business before we cut to one of the computers Sam and / or Alice work at to catch the rest of the story. Alice mentions “Ah. Yeah, Lena isn’t exactly known for her diplomacy.” which points to the idea that Lena probably isn’t the nicest person, or at the very least doesn’t sugarcoat things. Sam finds that Alice left some papers on his desk and she explains “I had a nosey while you were in Lena’s office. Looks like it’s for your Response Department one to one.” One thing I mention a lot about The Eye is that it tends to attract people who are very curious and / or want to know things, such as “Nosy Rosie,” Jonah, Jon, etc.. This scene shows us that Alice might be more curious or nosy than she lets on in some aspects. Of course, in typical Alice fashion when Sam expresses worry about the paper and the Response Department she tells him to basically just ignore it and throw it away but Sam decides to fill start filling it out anyway.

I wonder if this is similar to the magically binding contract from TMA and if Sam just accidentally tied himself to something. Alice does also say “Just chuck it. I told you, I’m pretty sure the Response Department doesn't even exist anymore. It's just the system spitting out dead paperwork. Happens all the time.” so we can’t even be sure that this is coming from the Response Department. In fact the paperwork coming from the Response Department could be The Eye or some other Entity and / or supernatural occurrence. We also continue to have Sam’s curiosity hammered into us when he says “And I’m going to fill it in any way. See what happens.” Sam notes that the paperwork asks strange questions when he says “Uh huh… They want my last seven addresses. I don’t know if I’ve even had-” This could point to the idea of the paper wanting a suspicious amount of information since it not only wants to know where you currently live but the last seven places someone has lived.

(Probably rather luckily) Sam gets interrupted by a statement as Alice manages to convince him to stop as CHESTER gives us our statement for the episode.

This statement is about Tom and the blog he is running. On it he reviews horror movies and even says “Hey all you sick freaks out there, Tom here, your gruesome guide to the most twisted horror films of the world wide web!” He also says “I can’t believe this blog’s still up. Was looking for somewhere slightly less confrontational than social media to post my film thoughts, and I remembered starting this back in, what, 2009?” As I’ve mentioned before The Eye is the fear of being perceived and known which also involves the fear of being judged for things. To put it even more broadly, The Eye seems to be about the fear of knowledge in general. Not just the fear that someone / something might know too much about you (or a specific secret) or is just gathering information by watching you but also the fear that you yourself might know too much or have seen something you wish you hadn’t. In MAG 200 we are told in what order the Powers emerged and what led to their birth and for The Eye we are told it came from the fear of one’s eyes “showing them too much.” In essence, that they saw something they didn’t want to. A more direct example of this is Jonah being able to force information into the minds of other people like Martin and Melanie. Jonah mentions that this information has to be true and it points to the idea of forcing someone to know something against their will.

We also get “That first post... Fourteen years old and convinced I was the edgiest writer on the web. Might keep it up for posterity, god knows the kid went through enough” which implies a rough childhood. Considering what happens with the movie I would also like to point out that tying into The Eye’s whole “seeing too much” thing is the idea of being forced to remember or relive certain things you don’t want to. The most obvious form this took in TMA was the statements (as they were people recounting what happened to them) but Jon could also force people to give statements (forcing them to recall things against their will) and when Jon takes live statements both Jonah and Daisy point out that when this is done the victim will be forced to relive said statement every night via a dream in which Jon is watching. Sometimes, if there’s a monster involved, the victim sees things from the perspective of the monster (forcing them to watch their own suffering in a way).

Tom explains “I remember I was pretty lonely in those days. Ever since I was a child, making friends has always been kind of a struggle. My interests have always been seen as a little strange... While other kids my age at the time were looking up to football players and other celebrities, I was looking up to Pinhead and Freddy Krueger... It wasn’t in a psychopath kind of way or anything, I’ve just always been fascinated by horror. I can thank my dad for that, he showed me Puppet Master when I was six. ‘oh don’t worry, buddy! It’s just like Toy Story”... He had kind of a dark sense of humour like that.” before continuing to describe how he was really into horror and continues to have a fixation on it. This also implies that it’s possible the young Tom wasn’t always aware of what he was about to see and was tricked or lied to about what it was. Which could tie into the idea of seeing something you didn’t want to if we assume that this poor kid was expecting Toy Story only to get a scary movie. Funnily enough, someone judging and critiquing films on something like a blog could draw a connection to The Eye via the idea of judgment and the like.

Strangely, the next 3 reviews have been deleted. I wonder if they reminded Tom of something or if he just wanted to forget about it? But that would be kind of weird since he still leaves up the announcement that make mention of the terrifying film he watches later, “Voyeur.” It might also be a much weirder reasoning like someone or something wanting people to find this movie and / or post and making sure the post is preserved for a statement. It’s pretty clear Tom has at least some of the trademark Eye curiosity when it comes to horror movies since he seems to put in a lot of effort into finding this specific horror movie in order to watch it despite searches mostly just revealing what is presumably porn. However, in his search he comes across one thing- “The only thing I could find was another old blog with what must have been the shortest film review I have ever read. You can check the link, but I’ll save you some time: all it says is “Voyeur needs to be seen to be believed. The Scariest movie I have ever seen”.”

Of course, if you’ve gotten this far you can probably guess what I’m probably going to say. This is so obviously The Eye or some similar overlapping Entity trying to bait curious people into seeing something they will probably regret. In TMA Gertrude did mention that The Eye is also the drive to know and understand even if what you find might hurt you and we can see this in action. The drive to know and understand even if this movie could mentally scar you. Unfortunately, Tom doesn’t realize he’s in a horror podcast and this just makes him want to see it even more.

In the next blog post Tom mentions “Oh my God. I can’t believe one of you found it! Thank you SO MUCH Cinephobia12220 for the link!” Based on a quick google search I don’t think “cinephobia” is a real word (and if it is it’s super obscure). However, I can take a wild guess at what the username “cinephobia” means by looking at the root words involved. Cinephile basically means “movie lover” and phobia has to do with fear, so we can assume that the term cinephobia would probably mean something like “fear of movies”, “movie fear”, “phobia of movies”, etc.

After doing a bit more digging I found the term “cinephobia” which according to a wikipedia page means “The fear or hatred of films and the cinema.” Whether or not you want to see this as credible is up to you and I’m proud of the logic I used originally so I’m keeping the previous paragraph since it was at least in the ballpark. Either way, this username is foreshadowing since their name literally means “fear / hatred of movies” (ie the fear of a media you would watch).

Tom manages to find a link and a contest that only asks for his name and he somehow wins said contest despite noting that the site hasn’t been updated in years. At this point it’s clear that all the blog posts not relating or leading up to the “Voyeur” have been deleted. What does voyeur even mean? According to google voyeur is defined as “a person who gains sexual pleasure from watching others when they are naked or engaged in sexual activity”... okaayyyyyy wait there’s a second definition “a person who enjoys seeing the pain or distress of others.” Okay, I’m going to assume the second definition is what’s applicable here since this ties very heavily into The Eye and the idea of a sort of sadism or someone watching you suffer. Of course, this can also tie into statements as people like Jon gain power and strength from literally hearing about and or watching people suffer. So the movie’s title is yet more foreshadowing. The title might also have a double meaning since depending on why someone likes horror and to what extent you could describe them as a “voyeur” in the sense that they like seeing people suffer in movies. Tom is so desperate for horror he might be somewhat close to a voyeur in this sense but maybe I’m reading too much into that.

When Tom wins the contest he explains “I WON THE CONTEST! I can’t believe it! The invitation was waiting when I got home today, in a small black envelope. I don’t even remember giving them my address. The website must have logged my IP and looked it up or something... I’m really not sure how any of that works.” This is another red flag because The Eye is known to randomly give or find information it otherwise shouldn’t know. We see people like Jon had the ability to know things that they shouldn’t and Jonah was borderline omniscient and could know almost anything he actively put his mind towards.

The cinema “Voyeur” is being filmed at is a theater that Tom actually went to when he was a kid. “And I’ve actually been to this cinema before... I used to go all the time with my dad... they would play classic horror films midday every Saturday.” Considering that Tom probably had a rough childhood this could be The Eye setting up a situation where Tom is forced to remember his past (I mean besides watching the movie of course) and I wonder if this is the theater where his dad tricked him into watching a horror movie. We know that the movie seems to actually be about Tom himself and it’s being played in a place he remembers as a child. Also, Tom mentioning how he wants to give his thoughts on this movie could be likened to a statement and someone giving their accounts about various horrific encounters.

Tom of course is apparently live blogging the event and I think that usually The Eye wouldn’t have it any other way. The more people can witness the horrors another person is facing in real time the “better.” The outside of the theater seems like it’s in a sorry state but the inside is beautiful and clean. Tom asks about this while buying food from an employee and we get “I asked about the mess outside, trying not to be rude about it, but he just said “It’s what on the inside that matters”.” This could be foreshadowing to the idea that the movie is about Tom himself. So the “inside” that matters would be Tom’s own memory and / or experiences. Also, this employee is noted to be old and probably doing all the jobs around this theater. He is at least the one running the concession stand, and usher along with the other stuff. But Tom says that the man is in high spirits which makes me wonder if we’ll see him as a recurring character in TMP’s statements and / or in person (sort of like Simon Fairchild and the like).

Then the movie starts and based on Tom’s reaction he clearly recognizes what's being shown “ I can hear what sounds like... beeping. It sounds so familiar but I can’t quite place it. Medical equipment maybe? There’s something [UNINTELLIGIBLE] the screen... Looks like it might be a flashback or something, handheld… looks like it was filmed on an old camcorder... Wait. Is that...? I know that room…. How... How did they get [UNINTELLIGIBLE] This was after the accident. Mum wanted to to film it for my brothers... Dad... I... [UNINTELLIGIBLE] Wait. Who is that? In the corner of the screen, there’s... WHO THE HELL IS THAT?” and the final thing we hear from the blog is

BLOG POST: FILM REVIEW: VOYEUR

Voyeur needs to be seen to be believed. The scariest movie I have ever seen.

It seems like what happened is the movie was a video Tom’s mom had taken of a tragic even but there was something that shouldn’t have been there. This wouldn’t be the first time something like this happened with The Eye. In TMA MAG 193 (A Stern Look) we get an account from the original Elias that details how a friend named Allan Schrieber died from presumably reading some sort of book. Upon reading it Allan started to mentally break down and sob while saying things like “It has no eyes”, “so it has to feel its way towards me. But it knows. It knows!” before eventually dying with his eyes mysteriously missing. A lot of people immediately assume this means The Dark was at play but there are statements where someone / something aligned with The Beholding seems to be missing eyes or taking The Eyes of others. Sometimes the idea is that it’s scary that something can somehow still know where you are or see you and sometimes this is the whole “seeing too much thing.” It’s also mentioned “But he remembers so clearly what he was thinking as he looked at the what was left of Allan Schrieber: where are his eyes? What did they do with his eyes?”

If you want a clearer example of seeing something you shouldn't, there's the hand mirror that appears in MAG 060 (Observer Effect). Upon looking into this mirror Rosa Meyers notices a dark figure in the night that only has its eyes visible and she feels like she is being watched / stalked even after dropping the mirror and breaking the glass. So The Eye definitely plays around with the idea of seeing something, noticing a figure that shouldn’t be there, and then things follow you before something happens. It wouldn’t completely surprise me if Tom was even replaced or had his mind and / or body taken over somehow (something that has a precedent with people like Jonah) which could explain why his review is eerily similar to the original one. Maybe the old man is body hopping like Jonah? That might explain the old man’s excitement and maybe the old man is in fact “Cinephobia12220.” Hmmm, such an assertion about body hopping with so little information is a bit of a stretch though since the man could just be happy to have a victim and it would be an oddly specific ability for some random new character (merely one iff background or otherwise) to have.

Obviously, Tom also expresses surprise at this theater having the footage and wonders how they could’ve gotten it which ties into The Eye and someone getting information they shouldn’t. Being forced to relive something like this is also comparable to a statement.

Some Entities that overlap with some of the stuff happening in this statement are ones like The Spiral. I could see an argument for some of its themes with the idea of noticing something you missed before or thought wasn’t there as a sign of your senses being wrong. Maybe also The Stranger since Tom doesn’t seem to know what he’s seeing.

We then cut to CCTV audio and Alice talking on the phone before this conversation happens

GWEN

“Do you remember the IT manager before Colin?”

ALICE

“Who? Amelia? What about her?”

GWEN

“No, before Amelia, before I joined. German guy. Lots of tattoos.”

ALICE

“I mean, I think Amelia mentioned him once or twice maybe? Mostly I remember her complaining about his work, but he’d have been here well before my time. What’s this about?”

GWEN

“Nothing. None of your business.”

ALICE

“What? Seriously?”

GWEN

“(walking off). Yes.”

Once again, Gwen being cagey and weird but this time we have a better idea of why. There’s a chance that this German IT manager may in fact be Klaus. I wonder if being the O.I.A.R. IT manager comes with some sort of drawback or “curse?” Maybe even some weird agreement between whoever has the position and Lena? Who knows

Conclusion

Idk having a blast. Feel free to leave corrections and / or thoughts and I may respond to them and explain if I agree or disagree, or consider why it is or isn’t likely, etc.

#tma #the magnus archives #tmp #the magnus protocol #theory

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danisglovedhand · 9 months

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I’m used to writing on Wattpad, but I’ll give this app a shot😭 Wish me Luck, also I’m sorry if there are any typos (Reader is Female btw.) I’ll try to do more later if I can. (~*~ = Time Skip)

Throughout your time in Castle Dimitrescu, you’ve grown used to screams, the sight of gore, and pretty much anything that involved corpses. Though the smell still killed you every time, you were cleaning peacefully, cleaning the Piano in the opera room and dusting the keys, closing the fall board after, and walking towards your cleaning supplies.

“Hey, Little one!” Bela’s voice rang throughout the room, almost making you jump out of your skin as you squeaked at the sudden sound of her voice, your heart almost stopping in your chest.

“Holy Mother Miranda! Lady Bela can you and Lady Cassandra PLEASE stop scaring me,” You whined, picking up the cleaning supplies you had in your hand, and trying your best to calm you’re racing heart and even your breathing, the blonde vampire manifested into her full form, now in front of you and laughing; holding her stomach and slapping her knee.

“I’m sorry Little one, it’s your reaction I die for!” She stated, laughing uncontrollably causing you to sigh with slight annoyance.

After the both of you calmed down she wiped her tears away and looked at you, sending you a mischievous smile and giggled. Your arms crossed over your chest as you sent her a small pout.

“If I get heart conditions you’re both the reason why.” You grumbled, letting out a content sigh and shaking your head. The blonde giggled some more, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek to hide your smile at her giggle. Yes, you had managed to fall for one of the daughters, but who was to blame you? They were all pretty attractive vampires, even the other maids found them attractive themselves. The blonde in front of you was the one that had captured your heart, of course, there was always something about her that caught more of your attention.

Her dirty golden locks dangled in front of her chest freely, her golden eyes matching her smile, pale lips almost always covered in blood covering her chin and half of her neck. She surprisingly didn’t have blood on her face, not even her makeup was ruined, but she was gorgeous and it didn’t take long for the youngest, Daniela, to notice your feelings for her older sister. The ginger would tease you about it here and there when she was with you.

“I just figured why not spend my free time with you, I finished all my chores early because I wanted to be with you.” She said softly, sending another smile your way

“Jeez. You’re really bored if you didn’t want to torture any of the maids today.” You chuckled, moving your supplies and picking them up. The vampire laughed at your comment, lightly hitting your shoulder.

“Funny.” She giggled with a mischievous smile on her lips.

“Aww, you think I’m funny?” You practically squealed, putting your hand over your chest in a playful manner. You giggled, and she joined you immediately, taking a mental note as she looked into your eyes and flickered them toward your lips.

“[Name]!!” Daniela’s voice rang out, causing you to jump and let out another squeak. The oldest started laughing again, almost falling to the floor.

“God Dammit, Dani!” You screamed, hiding your face in your hands and letting out a muffled groan. The ginger joined her older sister in laughing hysterically. You sighed

“Guess it runs in the family, lord Mother Miranda..” Your heart still racing, and your breathing is uneven.

“But like I said if I do end up with heart conditions it's you three,” you grumbled, send both vampires a small glare before walking out into the hall. Their giggles following close behind you. They both calmed a few minutes later

“Aww, come on [Name]! You're not going to get heart conditions,” Dani exclaimed as she draped her arms on your shoulders and rolled her eyes.

“Oh? And how would you know?” You’re lips twitched upwards into a smile, arching an eyebrow and tilted your head to look her way. Daniela stayed quiet, snuggling her face into the crook of your neck and letting out a sigh.

You looked over to your side, a faint frown ghosted your features at the sight of Bela smiling awkwardly of to the side. Her eyes looking anywhere but you and Dani.

~*~

You had just gotten out of the bathroom; a towel hugged around your body securely, walking over to your dresser and getting a fresh pair of clothes, slipping on the clothes before flopping down on your bed and letting out a soft muffled groan.

“Today was..tiring yet lovely,” You smiled at the thought of Bela and giggled, your face flushed red.

‘She’s just so, I can’t even put it into words! she’s just so gorgeous.’ You’re smile widened, heat raced to your face. You’re giggles growing into small laughs. You paused at the sound of knocking, letting out a soft ‘Come in’.

Bela peaked her head in smiling when she saw you “Did you come here to bug me again?” You smiled back, sitting up and facing her correctly.

“Oh you know me so well,” She giggled, closing the door behind her and taking a seat next to you.

“Well, you’re really only around me when your bored.” You smiled wider, she hit your shoulder at that, you hand clutching your shoulder and you let out a dramatic gasp. Smiling again when she laughed at you, your heart skipping a beat at the sound.

“You know I love spending time with you. I just never have the chance to.” The vampire exclaimed, her lips arching into a frown, your heart aches at that.

“Hey, hey, its ok you know I also love spending time with you and I completely understand that you have your things to do. I don’t mind waiting to spend time with you Bela,” You whispered, your hand resting on her shoulder tightened slightly. You turned your whole body to face her completely, her face brightened a bit. She turned her body towards you, letting out a sigh— and finally made eye contact with you.

“Ok, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” She whispered back, she seemed extremely nervous— Bela!? Yes, Bela Dimitrescu was nervous in front of you! She seemed pretty confident and basically fearless when she was around you, but seeing her like this made you tense, your heart ached at the thought of her being nervous, did she crack with her feeling already? Did she have built up feelings?

“Earth to [Name]? Are you ok, you spaced out on me.” She giggled, her hand waved in your face to get you to come back to reality when your thoughts went on. You nodded and apologized, waiting for her next words, your heart raced.

“So, I’ve been..I— I’ve..” She sighed heavily. Your heart racing faster, her eyes flickering everywhere else but your own.

“I’ve had a bit of feelings for you when you were assigned as our new maiden, and I thought it would last for while so, me being me, I brushed it off as just a small simple crush..” She continued, your eyes widening a bit at her, worry filled your system when she paused. You stuttered, your heart was pacing.

“Bela…I— You’re not playing a prank right?” You nervously chuckle, never taking your eyes off of her own. She shakes her head, looking anywhere but your eyes.

To Be Continued..

#bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil village #Bela Dimitrescu x fem reader #castle dimitrescu #fanfic #gxg #mine: writing

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oksana-moods · 1 year

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Queens of Promise - Part 5

Summary: The plot thickens.

A/N: Hey you all! I don't even know what to say here rs It feels like a decade has passed and certainly feels odd to come back after such a long time. I don't know if there are people still interested in this story, but after a request of a dear friend of mine, I decided to post what's already written and work on the last chapter (the only one I haven't fully written yet, only on script).

I'd like to explain that my writing time got reduced by a lot of reasons, but mainly, 2022 was a bittersweet year that I'll definitely remember for the rest of my life.

Without further ado, let's get back to the story, shall we? Everything until chapter 10 is written and almost ready to be posted, I'll just look for typos or other mistakes and you shall have it really soon. For real this time. Chapter 11 however, the final chapter, is still on progress but I promise I will give you the end of this story.

Please, let me know your thoughts.

-Previous parts here

Trigger Warnings: Violence, language, mentions of blood and war. If there is any other that should be mentioned, let me know.

Into your eyes, hopeless and taken

Triskelion Castle

“Absolutely not.” Queen Calanthe manifests her disapproval to your latest idea. “I’m not letting you play spy and into Sokovia’s territory, no less. It’s not time for games. We are at war.”

For the thousandth time, you sighed. You tried countless ideas of how to learn the Maximoff’s plans with the Kree and none of them seemed to please your mother.

“Well, what do you suggest? We need to find out what they are up to, messing with the Kree.” You spat the word Kree as if venom tainted your tongue. “You can’t expect me to sit on this. I’m going to discover this one way or another, even if requires me to interrogate Princess Maximoff myself.”

“I suppose you discarded that idea few months ago.” She seethed, referring to when you had the princess within reach, but you chose to let her go and you hated how she was right. You hated even more not knowing why you allowed her to run away, in first place.

Loki cleared his throat trying to clear the air in the room and intervened with an option. “Perhaps we could send a small unit to the harbor?” He folded his hands behind his back and started to explain his idea. “We know for sure that winter is closing down on us, therefore there’s only one harbor in Starksland that any commotion could happen.”

“Hogan’s harbor.” You spoke, grasping what he was proposing. Loki, in turn, flashes you an appreciative smile, he always admired your intelligence and how receptive you were with those who you trust.

“Precisely. If Kree were to arrive with troops or anything else, that would be the place.” He lifted his hand and started to enumerate the facts that supported his theory. “Hogan is a small town, there’s not many prying eyes. They could count with the snow to slow down Stark’s troops. No resistance whatsoever, not until they are far inland and with the large number of trade routes, they could very well disappear until they’re fanning on our necks.”

You looked at him with a smile on your own. You always prayed to the Gods for your mother to live for more than hundred years, but the idea of your ascension as Queen seemed a little bit less scary because you knew he’ll be by your side, sharing his wise.

You turned to him and grabbed his head forcibly and gave two kisses on his cheeks. “Uh brother, you’re brilliant. I knew we kept you around for something more than just your pretty face.” You finish with a smile, which grew wider after his reply.

“Thank you. I have a pretty face indeed.” He straightened his robes from imaginary crinkles, suddenly uncomfortable with your praise.

You turned to your mother, head spinning with ideas, and started to share them. The meeting went for hours without end, but this time plans were discussed instead of rejecting ideas and later that day, you had convinced the queen that your unit should be the one set off for this quest.

After the assembly, you stayed behind in her meeting room. Her eyes were set on your form, while you pretended to busy yourself admiring an old painting celebrating the bravery of your family on some ancient battle. The painting showed some gran-gran-mother regally mounting a white horse, wielding a sword in the middle of a battle. You wondered how many lives were lost for that ancestor to gain this work of art.

“Do you think her mother doubted her worth?” You spoke quietly, after a moment contemplating the moment eternized on the wall. From the corner of your eye, you could see your mother’s head turn to you harshly.

“Oh my love, I never doubted you.” She took few steps and you turned to look at her fully now. The crease between her brows were deep and there was worry in her eyes.

“Yet, you weaken your troops on the battlefield by keeping my company away. You don’t trust me anymore.” Your voice was flat, as if analyzing an event and not delivering how bad it bothered you.

She took the remaining steps between you and grabbed your hands in hers, giving light squeezes. “I’m a mother and you’re my daughter, my only daughter. After your abduction by the Kree, I went berserk and didn’t stop until I had you in my arms again.”

Her eyes were hard, but they showed so much love that you felt your feet slightly out of balance. “Oh, when I saw your fragile, beaten form laying on your bed that night I vowed that I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way again.”

She paused just for a few seconds to make sure you were following. “And this war has so many blind spots, so many white blanks that scares me, my love. I can’t lose you.” She squeezed your hand harder this time. “And Taharr can’t lose you.”

You looked at the emotion seeping from her eyes, and it was once in a lifetime to see the queen Calanthe so vulnerable, so human. “One of the first lessons you taught me was to serve my kingdom. No matter what.” She laughed dryly, of course you’d use her words and ‘lessons’ against her. “And I am good, mother. I need you to see that.”

She cupped your face with her hands and caressed your cheeks with her thumbs. “You are the best, my love, you are my daughter and I taught you myself. If anything, I made sure the greatest warriors in this world prepared you to be the best knight in Noveria, even better than myself. But, in the end of the day, I’m still a mother worried about my cub.” She smiled lightly and you smiled as well.

As a queen, she knew better. From early age, she made you learn how to fight with all weapons and even without one. The same time spent with physical training was dedicated to study the numbers, letters, history, geography, politics, religions, beliefs and even agriculture. After all, knowledge is never too much and information could be a weapon itself, if harnessed properly.

You nodded but still counterattacked. “But I know that your permission had more to do with the fact that I’ll be away from the front than to my investigation skills. It stings.” She was about to speak but you stopped her. “You can’t protect me forever, mother. We are at war and in Taharr there’s always war.”

This time she nodded and took few steps away from you. “I know and you’re right, but I’m old and one day you’ll step up as the Queen of Taharr and I have to make sure that you’ll live long enough.” Her words sink heavily in your stomach, the veracity of her statement hit you like a rock.

Your mother fought her battles, had her share of wars and now she was looking to the future, worried about the type of person would assume her crown when the time comes. “Do you think I’m reckless? Do I embarrass you?” Your voice was low, exposed and she hated to see you second guessing yourself. She always loved your spirit, even though they brought a fair amount of headache.

“Never.” Her voice was firm, and she spoke the truth of her heart. “I’m nothing but proud of who you are. You’re strong, intelligent and you’re never afraid of fighting for your people. You’re a true lioness.” Her soft smile turned into a small smirk. “As for reckless, I can’t judge your youth’s spirit. I remember giving my father few grey hairs due my own adventures.”

You snorted at her choice of words, and you wondered if you’d ever learn how to speak like this. You wondered if you’d ever be half of the woman she was and a quarter of the queen she was. There were many things you wondered, and you feared you wouldn’t be that good. “Do you think I’ll be a good queen?” Again, your voice was small, foreign-like small, showing her your inner doubts.

You knew you could handle a fight; you knew you had learnt troop maneuvers enough to overpower an enemy during a war, but could you run your kingdom with the perfect balance between ruthlessness and kindness as your mother? Could you guide your people during the darkest times when it comes?

“I know you’ll be the greatest queen to ever grace these lands, even more marvelous than Queen Maria Hill.” Pointing at the Great Queen on the painting in front of you, she spoke with a certainty that pushed away the worries hammering your head and heart, at least for now.

You shook your head amused and locked eyes with her. “Will I be as good as you?” Her smile was bright, thanking you wordlessly for your praise, then she replied. “Oh love, you’ll be better than me, for you have a heart of gold. And when the day come, I’ll be a delighted queen and a proud mother.” She finished with a glint in her eyes, and you nodded you head, smiling lightly.

She patted the seat by her side on the balcony, welcoming you to enjoy a cup of tea admiring the beautiful fall tinting the trees and fields on the outskirts of Triskelion of orange, dark red and light brown as the maple leaves adorned the grounds.

You were still thinking about the conversation you had had with your mother when a nudge on your ribs brought you back to reality and you looked to its source only to find Lady Rambeau nodding towards a specific door at the back of a decaying pub near the docks.

You narrowed your eyes and saw a young woman stepping inside of it and you smiled, for you knew who she was. And something told you that, after weeks lurking around Hogan Village, today was your lucky day.

You waited on your spot for a while longer and a soldier reported that there was no sign of Scarlet Knight or Black Widow, something foreign stirred in your stomach when they said Princess Wanda was nowhere to be seen, it was almost as if you were disappointed.

But why? You shook your head and chewed your own lip, weighting your options and thinking about what your next step should be.

This time, it was your turn to nudge Maria’s side and beckon her to follow you. You signaled for everybody else stay on their posts and wait for new instructions, then you strolled to the pub’s entrance.

Once inside, you immediately asked for a beer, to blend in with other costumers and locals. You leaned on the counter and tried to find sokovian soldiers. “I’m counting two on the right corner and another by the window, the one with white hat.” Your words were low, to make sure only Maria would hear them.

She nodded and turned her body, leaning on the counter, pretending to be bored with her beer stein. “You missed the guy by the side door.” She took a sip of the liquid and used all her mighty to not spat the content on the floor, pursing her lips. “This beer is worse than piss.”

You snorted. “You know, the mere notion that you can make such comparison scares me.” Lady Rambeau sniffled her laughs as to not get unwanted attention. “Come, is time for us to have a chat.” Silently, she followed you to the table were the person you were after was.

“Oh. Squire Kate Bishop, fancy seeing you here.” Your spoke loud enough for the girl in front of you hear you properly, but not loud enough to attract unnecessary attention. You were disguised as trader and so was your partner, but your face was not particularly unknown.

Despite being low, your voice still made her jump, startled, then she turned back to look at you.

“It’s Knight Kate Bishop, actually.” She raised her chin, proudly and you almost felt bad for her. Unbeknownst to her, she gave you more information with that single sentence than she could’ve imagined.

She was proud of her title and so was of her mission, for sure. Therefore, the mission was bound to be important. Therefore, Scarlet Knight should be close and had interest in whatever was going on. Therefore, it’d be a matter of time for you to learn what it was.

You smiled at her. “That’s quite the title, kid. I’m sure you can handle it, though.” You spoke then you let your eyes stray to the stash of papers on her hands.

“I’m sorry, what name did you introduce yourself with?” She tried. You were lucky indeed.

“I didn’t.” Smiling you retreated from the bar and went to the camping on the outskirts of the city, where you shared your knowledge with your companions. The stash of papers in Bishop’s hands were ship manifests, they meant supplies were about to arrive and you knew just when, for you read the ships names.

Forel Star and Valar Zirtys, both braavosi ships and that made no sense in this crescent pile of strange allies sought for Sokovia. First Kree, now Braavos. Unless…

Something popped in your head.

It was known to a lot of people in other continents, but only a few in Noveria knew and, fortunately, you were one of them. One of the papers had the Ragman’s Harbor stamp on it, which means the ship’s last stop was a harbor that’s open to all foreign ships, unlike Purple Harbor, which tends exclusively local braavosi ships.

Obviously, said ships could have made a quick stop in Braavos coming from another place and after loading the new cargo, set off to Hogan’s Harbor. However, there was this nagging feeling that this was a diversion. Maybe, the Kree used the braavosi harbor to laundry the load as to avoid suspicious. Very meticulous.

The question is, what Sokovia had offered in return?

You could be wrong, but the more you thought about it, the more all the details seemed to click into place. Your instincts never failed you.

You were sure they weren’t start just now.

------

Somewhere between Sokovia and Taharr borders

The road to the Krogani Lakes seemed endless, especially with so many turns, road depressions and lakes to go around that took one moon for Wanda’s troops to move from the outskirts of Hogan’s Village to the battlefront.

Even though the interminable trip was a nuisance in itself, the princess felt her restlessness growing with each day. The wagons transporting their goods could turn their luck on the front. There wasn’t just food, which she knew they desperately needed, or new armors and weapons, but especially medical supplies. Nowadays, those were rarer than gold.

The Scarlet Knight was so engrossed on her thoughts that she didn’t hear Natasha’s horse arriving by her side. So, when her friend spoke, she startled Wanda. “One more hill and we’ll get to Sokovia’s camp before dusk.”

“By the gods, how can you still be silent with a horse?” Wanda put a hand on her heart as though this action could calm her down.

“It’s literally impossible to be silent with a horse, Wanda.” Romanoff shot her a smirk. “You were so absorbed by your thoughts that you missed my approach.” She laughed lightly, trying to lift the mood, sour since their encounter with the Kree emissary.

“Urg. This trip is interminable, and though we’re no longer in Taharr’s territory, it feels like we’re been watched still.” The princess shared what bothered her with her protector, there were so many reasons why she’s restless that she does not know where to start.

“I feel it too. Especially when we went around the Gauntlet Valley by the south, but I believe that I’m still creeped about that power stone we delivered to the Witch Harkness.” The Black Widow spoke, eyes never straying from the road and their vicinity, always looking for a threat.

“I’m still creeped about the whole meeting, Nat. That woman didn’t look like she had her mind on the right place, even less were her intentions.” Wanda felt cold creeping up her bones the second she entered the inn the witch provided as meeting point and every now and then she still felt chills on her cells. “Fortunately, it’s behind us now.” She muttered.

“Unless it comes back to bite us in the ass later.” Natasha smirked a sentence dripping sarcasm, and deep down she prayed that it was just a sarcastic remark indeed and not an omen.

By the time Wanda arrived at their camp, the tents for her and her unit were already up, and everything was prepared for her arrival. The redhead was dreaming with a hot bath and a very deserved rest, but the second her boots touched the campsite, she was taken to the Commander’s tent.

“What happened?” Wanda inquired the second she stepped into the tent. There were important Lords and Knights gathered around a table, but she couldn’t see the man to whom the tent belonged to, only his shield broken on the ground.

“Lord Rogers was captured by the enemy, your highness.” Sir Rumlow fed her with the latest news and the reason why the camp was a pandemonium. Another battle lost to Taharr and now their mightiest warrior, their Commander, was captured. This was a blow to the troops’ morale.

Fuck. The princess muttered to herself. It felt as if fate was against them, only when she brings new supplies, this tragedy happens. “Who’s leading now?” She asked but offered her opinion already. “Lady Romanoff can step in.”

“I’m the next in succession line, your highness.” Sir Barnes started, after clearing his throat. “And I’m afraid King Pietro and Lord Vision would approve, as I’m already familiar with Steve’s tactics.” He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, but not enough for Wanda to think he’s being rude.

“By all means.” She raised her hands in surrender. As for Vision’s wishes she could care less, but Wanda wouldn’t undermine her brother’s commands on the battlefield, besides the Winter Soldier was a formidable soldier and she knew her army would be in good, capable hands. “Now what?” She asked, sitting by the table, sighing tiredly.

“Now we negotiate and until then, we wait.” Natasha replied and every head on the room nodded in agreement.

Wanda always saw herself as a patient woman, but to wait for any ransom request or even a meeting to draw a negotiation was murderously painful. She had spent the days checking the wounded and their treatment as well as the troops meals, she did everything to kept herself busy to try and forget that one of her mentors was in the lion’s den, possibly dead and there was nothing that she could do.

Dread filled her bones as she walked inside the tent built on the once battlefield, so they could stand a conversation and exchange their requirements somewhat sheltered from the cold rain. Wanda’s eyes roamed the room, taking in every single person present, envisaging who could be a threat in case things went south.

Her eyes stopped and never left the smiling person on the other side of the table, neatly separating the place in two.

Right in the center of Lords, Ladies and Knights, there was you in rich red robes with a few lines adorned in golden, and a lion with an imposing roar was embroidered in your chest. You were breathtaking and Wanda took a few seconds more than usual to breathe again, immediately plastering an annoyed look on her face.

“Ah, Princess Wanda, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” You shot her your most dashing smile and Wanda’s annoyed face turned into a scowl. The gal of you to speak with her like that.

“Can’t say the same, I’m afraid.” She replied, crossing her arms and taking a seat on the table in front of her. “Shall we begin?”

“Of course, Your Highness.” There was a glint in your eyes, but it didn’t feel like you were mocking her title, quite the contrary. For some reason, you seemed truly pleased with her presence and that baffled her.

You cleared your throat and started to speak as if this was a simple matter and not a ransom negotiation. “Your Highness, Ladies and Gentlemen, the last few battles bespeak for themselves, I’m afraid this war is dragging itself for far too long.” You look around to see all eyes on you. “I think a truce is in order. Especially now that the winter is here.” You let your lips turn into a smirk and finished. “No pun intended.”

With a sudden movement, Sir Barnes unsheathed a hidden knife and stuck it heavily on the table in front of you, dangerously close to your hand. “Why don’t you stop with your funny remarks and get this over with?” He spat the word funny as if it were covered in venom.

While Carol, Maria and Sam each let out their own indignant forms of exasperation, you didn’t even flinch. You remained still, looking at the man known as Winter Soldier dead in the eye. “I could have your head in a spike for that little stunt, Sir. Or maybe I should ask for your other hand?” You tsked, feigning disappointment.

To his credit he didn’t waver at the mention of him losing his remaining arm, you only heard stories of how this had happened. It wasn’t a sore spot, you suppose. Taking a tired breath, you resumed your little speech. “I imagine Lord Wilson was very clear when he said no weapons allowed, yet here we are.”

“The note said we’d negotiate Steve’s release, yet here we are.” He mocked you and for a second you thought that picking him by his neck and breaking his nose on the table would be a nice way to show him that he was not allowed to speak with you like that. One glance at Wanda showed you that she had an unreadable expression gracing her face.

With a start, you decided that an act of violence would be unwise if they were trying to negotiate a ceasefire. As much as you wanted to put him in his place to make sure he’d never forget to be respectful to you, you relented.

“Why do you speak as if you were in charge of anything?” You decided to keep violence as your second resort, then. After all, you still need to get a truce before your men freeze with the winter that is about to ravage that region.

He was visibly frustrated by your comment, and you immediately knew this was his weakness. He didn’t want to be demoralized, specially not in front of everyone in the room, probably because his position was too fragile at the moment. “I’m the Commander of Sokovia’s Army, I represent-” You never let him finish.

“No, Sir. The Commander is currently in my custody, you’re barely a nuisance to me. I’m here to negotiate with Princess Wanda.” You flashed him a dangerous smile, however, he wanted to have the last word.

“Lord Vision and King Pietro, they both agreed that I-.” Again, you cut him midsentence, too annoyed to keep listening to his voice, you were losing a precious time now.

“I don’t care about King Pietro or Lord Vision, they’re hundreds of miles away while our feet freeze in this hellhole, so let me be clear, if I wasn’t already. I will only talk to Princess Wanda, no one else.” You fixed him with a glare colder than the rain outside the tent and this time he spoke nothing, grumpily leaning in his chair, defeated.

You turned to look at Wanda, who looked like she was ready to deny every single one of the requests coming out of your lips. “Princess Maximoff, I’d say we stop this madness, once and for all, but I’m pretty sure you still want to revenge a crime that we did not commit.” You began, keeping eye contact with Wanda hoping she’d see that you meant every single word coming out of your lips.

The Maximoff, on the other hand, started to open her mouth to protest but you raised your hand, signalling that you still have things left unsaid, in return, she simply closed her mouth and waited. “I’m sure you know better than anyone that winter by the lakes is cruel and will decimate our soldiers, no matter the color of their clothes.”

You paused your speech just long enough for you to see that the princess had her eyes glued on you. Her beautiful green eyes. “So, I propose a truce. You take your army home and I’ll retreat mine. We can try a peaceful, new negotiation when spring arrives. If we fail, then you can march south once more.”

There were murmurs and grumbles of disapproval by her side, but you already expected resistance. Illogically, a lot of people seemed determined to prolong this war even more. Something churned in your stomach when all Wanda had to do was to raise her hand for her companions to cease their complains. Were you proud of Wanda’s leadership? Why?

Why would her little demonstration of power affect you to this point?

Your thoughts were sliced by the princess’ heavy accent, and you had to bite back a smile that was already painting itself on your lips. “Why would I let you go back to your warmer south if my troops can endure the winter longer than yours?”

“Because not only I’m willing to set Lord Rogers free, but also, I might pretend that I don’t know where your new supplies came from.” You could see Wanda’s face morphing because of your words and their meaning.

You were willing to overlook her Kingdom’s deals with the Kree and this was a big offer. Huge even. Sokovia could be the most hated people, just like Hydrarr was, and the price paid as an outcast was painfully high in Noveria.

“Why?” Even under the feeble light provided by the candles, you could see genuine curiosity in her eyes.

“My people need to rest, and we need a truce, Princess. Even if it’s a cold peace until we can settle a more permanent agreement later.” You could still see drops of hesitation in her eyes, that’s why you quickly provided her with an insight.

“If we keep doing this, Taharr will no longer possess an army but the same will happen to you. How long do you think Hydrarr would wait to abuse your borders? Or how long do you think Asgard would take to claim as theirs the share of Bifrost Forest that currently belongs to you?”

You could feel the other sokovians staring daggers at you, but your attention never quavered from Wanda. For a moment, you almost smiled thinking that your mother and your brother would’ve loved to witness your tactics. Information and knowledge are a powerful weapon indeed if one knows how to wield it.

Apparently, all those hours locked up in your chambers learning about boring geopolitics paid off. The basics of being a king or a queen is how to keep your borders, hence why one needs an army and the thin lines on Sokovia’s east were a weakness that you would not hesitate in remind her of.

“You have your deal, Lioness.” Her voice brought you back to present again.

There was a muttering around the tent, but your eyes were solely on hers when you spoke, smiling widely. “We should celebrate with a good southern wine, princess.”

“Don’t push your luck, Princess.” You could’ve sworn that you saw the ghost of a smile flashing on her lips while she got up to her feet to leave the tent, but you probably had imagined it.

taglist: @californianwhiterabbit

part 6

#Queens of Promise #wanda maximoff #princess wanda #wanda maximov #wanda marvel #wanda x you #scarlet witch #wanda x reader #wanda x female reader #wanda x fem!reader #medieval au #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #enemies to lovers

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fatestayyuri · 9 months

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FINALLY FINISHED WARD ARC 1

thoughts under the readmore

You can say a lot about wildbow but you can't say he isn't making Choices. Actually i can say that i'm pretty sure most of this is the grim cowardice of not actually examining his biases and just writing "what comes naturally" to a liberal poisoned by toxic yuri discourse.

God, where do i even begin? how about the thing that first stuck out to me, and also the 6 other people i for some reason ushered into this Stupid Fucking Journey: the prose. the prose is bad. it's really, really bad. it stretches longer than it should and lacks the earnest charm of like. all of the VN authors i read almost entirely because it drips with flecks of irony-poisoned Marvel Ooze.The mean thing to say is that he definitely writes like he writes WAY more than he reads; the more cynical analysis i've gotten from his other work is that he's gotten into a very comfortable rut. words and descriptions drag, there's a general roughness of typos pointed out in comments untouched, and on the whole it reeks (and requires me to put on the prerequisite filters) of sloppy translation.

But that's just one facet of the writing; I am a big proponent of roughness adding to the emotional resonance of the work. I uh. The actual happenings are... certainly something, alright. It's impossible for me i think to read this outside of the context of wildbow's Amy Dallon Brain Poisoning, where the recent interviews colour my perception of his work (insisting Victoria is not a cop) for the worse. I am also unlike Wildbow Not A Liberal? so the whole spiel about Justice and Punitive Measures flies over my head. It's a bit weird since I do think the specific unreliable narrator of Victoria is a fascinating mindset to read through, and her trauma relating to her sister is rather elegantly depicted at times.

The problem is that these depictions are in fact, ruined, by my knowledge of this work as Wildbow's Hit Piece on a 17 year old lesbian. Like, i cannot stress enough how much it all falls flat considering this is Victoria's Cop Pain shown to show us that actually Amy Dallon is irredeemable. maybe if i had read worm first? idk that might make me less sympathetic to this

Oh, right! the racism! one of the ways victoria's cop brain manifests is in weird word choices like "urban" and "troublemakers" / "mischief" but like. i'm not actually sure wildbow is aware of the character he is writing, or the territory he is in? the general feel of this is one where If this was done with intentionality and a materialistic analysis of the world it could be really good! unfortunately it's written by a liberal so like. it's not.

^ why. why. why. why.

i think the way that our book club is going (where everyone reads exactly (1) of wildbow's novel) is showing me the true breadth of wildbow's uh. Beliefset? worldview? worrying tendency for race science? anyways.

I feel like there's a skeleton for a really compelling story here. I genuinely like some of the depictions of trauma, the way that parental dynamics chafe, of being treated as a burden as a patient, of being laden with a really fucked up punitive mindset. I just wish like, it wasn't these characters, and it wasn't this writer.

#ward lb

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winterandwords · 10 months

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I just realised something. The autistic disconnection from social hierarchy has manifested strongly in me as a disconnection from the perceived hierarchy of publishing options.

I could never understand why some people draw such firm lines between trad pub, indie, self-pub, web publishing, very strong carrier pigeons etc in relation to one being somehow innately better than another.

Even the phrase 'vanity publishing' used in a derogatory way seems a bit odd to me. Aside from the exploitation that often goes on in that section of the industry, which is obviously wrong and shitty, paying to have a book produced and distributed (when you're not being taken advantage of) is just another way to share a story. They're all just ways to share stories.

I don't mean any of this in terms of personal choice, like what you choose to do with your books because it's what you genuinely want for reasons of joy, money, a specific experience, a good fit for your genre, whatever. That's all good. Do your thing.

I mean in terms of people not understanding that it's possible to make that choice, based on your own authentic desires, and choose an option that they personally (and whatever chunk of society agrees with them) view as less-than.

"I want to do this thing and I don't want to do that thing and that's what governs my choice" feels logical to me. It's only just hit me that there are people who literally cannot comprehend that someone could see every option as equal and pick one based solely on what they'd enjoy most.

I couldn't make sense of why anyone would be confused that I actively choose to web publish my writing and assume there's some secret reasoning behind the choice that goes any deeper than "I've thought about the options and they're all valid but this one makes me happiest".

In case I've explained this badly, which I almost certainly have because my brain is pouring out my ears tonight, it isn't an "I'm so enlightened" thing. Because I'm not. I'm full of shit as much as the next person. It's just a "wow, this is a whole way I never thought about this before" thing.

Anyway. Mindspew that I'll have forgotten about by tomorrow. Please excuse any typos 🌿🔥💨

#the shit in my head #writeblr

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marshmallowsqoosh · 1 year

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[Ghost (Band) | The Dancing (ficlet)]

Smol fluffy TerzOmega from discord that I wrote for my bestest enabler. I don’t remember why. Probably cuz he’s the bestest tho.

Once in a blue moon I am able to meet a fluff quota. The angst that follows usually makes up for me being marshmallow fluff though lmao.

word count. ~1.300 warnings. minimum plot if any, fluff, author chooses to believe Nihil didn’t hate his kids and they have names that aren’t 1/2/3 (Special calls Terzo Vale for Valentino), headcanon that doesn’t line up with IRL (Era 2 and 3 Ghouls are separate people, not the same), Special & Terzo are BFFs, not beta read (if you spot typos lemme know!)

♥

[i. Crowded]

Omega does his best not to let the disappointment manifest when yet another human catches Terzo as he's trying to cross the room and pulls him off for the next dance. He accepts, to keep up appearances; but, he still gives Omega an apologetic look over his shoulder as he's pulled back into the thicker part of the crowd.

Secondo's Ghouls have taken over a corner to themselves to dance with each other—Air constantly just barely hiding that he's floating and going out to bother Secondo in short bursts, only to be chased back to the corner he takes up with Water. It never seems to bother either of them, as they simply laugh it off. The other Era Three Ghouls got pulled into the dancing sometime earlier in the night and Omega lost track of them—he knows Alpha's skulking on the far side of the hall, doing his best to avoid getting pulled in for another dance. Because he doesn't have the same inclination to say no as Omega.

People ask Omega—or start to. They get close enough to ask him before deciding against it with little more than an unblinking stare. Alpha isn't allowed the same freedom, simply because he knows he has to be on his best behaviour and scaring any member of the clergy is... inappropriate and he tended to come off a bit more harsh than the others. Omega almost wants to tell him to just decline—that he'll deal with any repercussion the Fire Ghoul might face—so maybe people will get bored and leave faster—

He raises a brow when Special sulks around the edge of the dance floor and simply plops down on the floor next to him, knees pulled up to his chest and tail tucked inside of the suit jacket so he can chew on the spade without people noticing.

"I'm surprised you aren't dancing." He'd been remarkably social at the Grammy's—

"Everyone's scared of me." Omega almost doesn't hear him over the music and chatter. But, his ears twitch and he tilts his head a little to show he did hear. Special just puts his head against his knees. "People outside the Ministry don't know. They don't know to be scared and alcohol makes it harder for humans to know something's wrong with me. ... Doesn't work at home, though. Vale usually dances with me at least once, but I can't get him away from people. I tried. It didn't work."

He... maybe forgot that Special came off differently to people than other Ghouls did. As charming and approachable as he was... Omega's heard interviewers and venue staff comment on how unsettling he could be, despite doing his best to be friendly and easily being the most charismatic of… basically any of the band Ghouls.

“... It's not the same, but would you like to dance, with me? At least a little bit? I'll help you get Terzo's attention." Special looks up, giving him a skeptical look that Omega can't say he doesn't deserve, even as he extends a hand to help him up. "You shouldn't use his name in public, you know better."

Special might have something sassy to add; but, he seems to think better of it and finally accepts the offered hand up. Omega lets him figure out his hands—realises he's not used to dancing with people significantly bigger than him—before offering to lead. It's not much different than dancing with Terzo, in Omega's case, just... a little odd. Tense, at first—both of them more than a little aware of attention following them and Special trying hard to ignore the extra attention—but, as the smaller Ghoul start to relax and actually have fun, it... might make Omega smile. Just a little bit.

He might forget, a lot, that Special's probably the most emotionally fragile of the group, despite being the oldest; always setting his expectations as high—sometimes higher—than Terzo did and desperate to fit in when he knew he was different. But, it is nice to see him being a little less chaotic than normal while having fun.

It does work out as he intends. As the song ends and people begin meandering to find new dance partners, they're close enough to Terzo that Omega can give Special a gentle push towards their summoner and offer a tip of his head before he quickly escapes anyone trying to ask him to dance more. Terzo looks surprised and he thinks Special might look the smallest bit guilty; but, he can hear them laughing a few seconds later and Terzo declining other people asking him to dance by pointing out he's already got a partner for the moment.

Omega can be patient. He knows he'll get the last dance and... as much as he wants the world to know it can't have Terzo the way he does, he might be looking forward to a quieter dance without people watching them too closely.

[ii. Quiet]

As much as Terzo would love to just fall onto his bed, he knows he needs to wash his paint off. And get undressed. And wind down from the excessively fried and definitely dead social battery.

Instead of doing any of that, though, he decides on a far more important task and simply falls into Omega, face buried against his chest. The laugh floods him with warmth and safety—amplified when his Ghoul simply envelops him in a secure hug—and Terzo finally raises his arms to let them curl around Omega's torso.

"I'm proud of you for getting through the entire ball."

"I'm glad one of us is." He doesn't mean to grumble. "... Thank you. For letting Special have fun, too. You should have stayed close, so I could dance with both of you."

Omega hums and Terzo simply smothers himself in the reverberation in his Ghoul's chest.

Soothing. Sleepy.

"As much as I enjoy the world knowing it can't have you, I fear I would have become possessive if anyone asked you away after us, etiquette be damned."

Terzo laughs and finally looks up. He's so tired... but this feels right. And necessary. "Well. The world can't be upset if you're possessive now, can it? Dance with me?"

"You need rest." Despite the words, there's the smallest lilt of hesitation in the tone—hesitation that says he does want to dance, reflected in a shared warmth that Terzo feels in his chest that's just making him even sleepier as he relaxes. In the same vein, it makes him that much more determined to stay awake a bit longer and Terzo promptly rights himself, hands easily finding where they normally rest.

"Rest will be inevitable and frequent. I don't get nearly enough time to simply enjoy your company. Please?"

It's a quiet dance, at first—a few practiced, cautious steps just to ensure they have space to dance in the bedroom. An easy transition, especially when a gentle hum begins to fill the stillness, just before Terzo can ask if he should put a record on for music.

He doesn't recognise the melody right away, but it's soothing. Enough that he puts his head back against Omega's chest, only just staying awake as he realises the humming causes a steady, comforting rumble, makes the tune deeper, from his Ghoul's chest.

Safe. Comforting.

He' s only just staying awake because he wants to hear the song. He doesn't want it to end. He wants to ask what it is, but doesn't want it to end.

He hopes he remembers in the morning, because as the song—and, in turn, the dance—slowly come to a stop, Terzo simply lets out a slow breath and lets himself fall asleep with the most gentle nuzzle and prompting from his Ghoul.

I have you, Morning Star. It's time to rest... so you can shine all the brighter through the day.

He hopes he remembers to ask about that, too, because surely he must have misheard.

#sqooshy writes #ghost band #ghost fanfiction #terzomega #terzo x omega #Omega Ghoul #papa emeritus iii #terzo #special ghoul #fluff #rating: general

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afatlotofchance · 9 months

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The belly of a god (1)

What is this? Not a commission nor a request. For the first time I think, I write a kink piece just for myself and on my own. I just had the idea this morning, and I decided to write it all in one go (except typos, no doubt). This isn't one cohesive story - rather it will be several mini-scenes and fragments here and there, centered around the same characters and the same situation. You know, I create my OCs, I toy a bit with them, experiment around in a non-linear but still cohesive ensemble.

Among the religions that interest me, vodou has always been one of them. And of course, the potential of a spirit just taking over you and forcing you to do things not normally humanly possible had so much potential... Note that while I was inspired by vodou, voodoo and the Loas, the characters involved here have nothing to do with them. The Cult and its Small Gods are all just expies, stand-ins and fictional inventions (though I took back "Small Gods" from Terry Pratchett). This piece of fiction was very particularly inspired by one of Sandman's latest spin-off series, House of Whispers. Its depiction of the lwas and their interaction with their mounts, rides and priests ; the kink, queer, extravagant cult and world of Erzulie... It all inspired me to do my own, vaguely voodoo-flavored, kink story. Or rather kink OCs, kink world. Enjoy! More shall come later

The Small Gods – called like this not because they were actually small, but because they were all inferior and servants to the Great God – were known to have peculiar eating habits. The people Duc Démouche possessed could eat broken glass and hot sand with no trouble whatsoever. The mounts of Dame Lamort craved pepper and pickles, and nothing else. La Beauté was only pleased by candies plunged in the white of eggs. Général Bato had the nasty habit of making his mounts eat raw meat with the frenzy of a wild animals.

Tam should have been grateful, in a way, that Chef Festin didn’t have such specific or dangerous preferences. But unfortunately for Tam, Chef Festin liked ALL foods. It was amazing how much a disembodied spirit could be a glutton. Whenever Chef Festin manifested, the first thing he asked – no, not ask, demanded and commanded – was food. Lot, and lot of food. He got angry whenever he was denied food, and he refused to say anything or perform any favors if he didn’t have a full belly. Well… if his mount didn’t have a full belly. Chef Festin, like all the Small Gods, could only exist in the physical world by taking a “ride”, and the one Festin had chosen to ride for this generation was Tam.

Technically speaking, a Small God could possess anyone they wanted. Some even jumped between hosts during one same ceremony. Tam had seen, in a same week, Général Bato ride three different friends of his with absolutely no relationship to each other. But sometimes, a Small God got a “favorite” mount. A bit like a favorite outfit that one liked to put on whenever they had to make an official appearance. And Tam was Festin’s. He wasn’t just his favorite mount… He was apparently his only mount, as Festin had only manifested through him for the past five years or so.

The first time Festin mounted Tam, it was at his sister’s wedding. He had just turned into a man, and they were all having fun. There was dancing, and music, and Tam had just laughed at a joke, and his sister was smiling in the arms of her husband. Then everything faded to black, and when Tam “woke up”, he found himself moaning, sitting by the buffet table, his abdomen hurting horribly – the skin tight, his belly on fire, his belt digging deep into his flesh. He found himself covered in food stains, and crumbs and sauces, and everybody was looking at him. As he later learned, he had devoured in a frenzy almost the entirety of the buffet, while laughing with a deep, booming voice, and claiming that it would rain tonight and that there was a storm ahead in the wedding. Groggy and confused, Tam had gotten up… Only to puke all that Chef Festin had crammed in his gut.

And Chef Festin had been right. It had rained on this night, and his sister later discovered her husband had cheated on her. They had gotten better though, but that was a proof that he had indeed been chosen by Chef Festin. He was now a mound, and his life was changed.

He had become one of the unwilling priests of the Cult. (Having been forced to practice their religion in secret for centuries, the people had grown accustomed to call it “the cult”, forgetting the actual name of their practices). From the outside, he still looked like every other regular young man. He lived in a small flat, took odd jobs here and there, working as a cashier at the grocery store down the street, or repairing the TV of those that wanted it. He had his friends, dressed like a normal guy. Nobody would have suspected a thing.

But the community knew. People were always careful to give him little gifts and to never be rude with him. The flat he lived in? It was supposed to be a rent, but the landlord made him pay so little he basically had it for free. And of course, there were the séances. Once a week or so, Tam went to one of the sanctuaries of the cult – could be a fancy flat in the best part of the neighborhood, the ceremony disguised as a fun party ; could be a large basement near the industrial area ; could be a garage for repaired cars that closed up for one day to welcome the power of the Small Gods… Tam was at the center of all the attentions, sitting on a stage, as the old women who knew the hymns called upon Chef Festin. And Chef came, and took over Tam’s body, and did what he had to do – deliver prophecies about bad things in the future, answer questions about hidden objects or hidden intentions, offering favors to those that asked for it. Festin could make sure your future boss was impressed during a job interview, that you would soon be offered a good sum of money, or that you would find by “pure luck” an open WiFi connection, so that you never had to pay for your Internet connection. Festin was a sleazy, cunning spirit, who could never be fully trusted as he had a slightly cruel sense of humor and his words would often say two things at once. But he was one of the most favored Small Gods, because he as efficient, eager to please, and what he promised always happened, no matter how.

Being the mount of Chef was a strange experience for Tam. It was like falling deeply asleep, in a dreamless sleep. He felt weighed down, a bit smothered, if not crushed, as if he was wrapped into very thick and hot blankets. He never felt Chef Festin inside him, never connected with him, didn’t see him, didn’t hear him. He could only base himself on what others had told him. And when he woke up… Well, when he returned to consciousness, his mouth felt dirty, and his belly was all gurgling and bubbly, and he felt uncomfortably full and nauseous, and he often burped before he could speak a word. With time, he had gotten use to the painful tightness of his stomach and to the sickening sensation of having eaten more than your body could handle. He didn’t puke anymore, and he didn’t felt like crying upon touching his reddened skin about to rupture. It still was a very unpleasant waking up, since he enjoyed all the downsides of a binge, without any of the pleasant aspects of gorging yourself like a pig. But at least it wasn’t an agonizing waking up anymore.

Tam had decided to make the best out of it. You couldn’t control a Small God, you couldn’t choose your fate. The spirits did as they pleased, and you dealt with it. He had met other mounts, and many were just as displeased with their situation as him. Why had he been chosen? No freaking idea. Joe liked to joke that it was because he had the skin the color of caramel, and that Festin wanted a snack, or an eye-candy. Truth is, he was just randomly selected and he had no way of knowing what went on the mind of a god. However, there were perks making it worth the deal. Free stuff. Kind smiles. Even Horace, the jerk that always insulted him back then, was keeping clear of him. And being a mount was something quite prestigious in the community… So he just thought, “That’s life”.

He only started to think about another possible, unforeseen, side effect of being the mount of Chef Festin, the Small God always depicted as this massive horned man of deep-brown skin, large and towering like a humanoid mountain, when one morning he tried to button up his pants… and realized with a shiver of surprise that he couldn’t anymore.

There was a little belt of flabby flesh making the pants too tight, a pudgy roll circling his waist and spilling over his underwear – an expected consequence of weekly feasts. He had a soft belly, and a rounder behind, and had his waist enlarged just enough for the button to not be able to reach its intended hole anymore.

And it was just the beginning…

#the belly of a god #weight gain #my ocs #kink ocs #fat #stuffing #binging #male weight gain #kink fiction

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britesparc · 2 years

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Weekend Top Ten #534

Top Ten Tom Cruise Films

So we return once again to the well of Listing an Actor’s Fillums. I quite like doing this, although I do wonder if it’s just going to show up glaring gaps in my film knowledge because I haven’t seen, say, Born on the Fourth of July. But anyway! Let’s plough on!

Tom Cruise, what a guy, eh? One of these genuinely larger-than-life actors, not just a movie star but a force of nature – the living manifestation of destiny, if you will. He’s legitimately good – Oscar-worthy – but he also has with him an aura of other-worldliness. Frankly, what he does seems not just impossible, but, like, implausible. He could make movies without jumping off things. He really could! It’s true! Adam Sandler manages it. But Cruise still does all these crazy things; he can’t fight like Iko Uwais or Donnie Yen – or even Keanu Reeves – but he still manages to pull off scenes that are just insane to behold. His films are events, and even if he’s making sequels to a beloved franchise, really the franchise is Tom Cruise Films.

So he’s a cool, charismatic leading man, with genuine acting chops, who somehow manages to always one-up himself in terms of a unwavering commitment to physically and mentally taxing stunt work (including, let’s not forget, flying jets for real in Top Gun: Maverick). But at the same time he tends to operate at this level of remove. We can’t fault him for his desire for privacy, but even setting aside specifics, he approaches everything with an almost messianic zeal and rictus grin that is, for some, off-putting. Whatever attributes he has – and to be clear, I like him a lot as an actor – he’s not really in that warm and fuzzy Tom Hanks zone, or even the nice-guy action hero mode of, say, Christ Hemsworth (I’m leaving that typo in because I have decided now that Jesus looks like this). He’s like this Hollywood monolith, immense and fascinating but also, in a funny way, alien and unrelatable. He does impossible things for odd reasons but they also, for the most part, turn out to be really, really great.

And here are my ten favourite films of his.

A Few Good Men (1992): oooh, an Aaron Sorkin film tops the list, big surprise David. But this really is an all-timer. A superb – superb – script, fantastically orchestrated by Rob Reiner at the height of his powers, a cast to die for, and Cruise at his best, channelling his two great attributes – cocky wankerism and earnest, soulful humanism – to weapons-grade effect.

The Mission: Impossible Franchise (1996-2024): gah, already I cheat. Yes, I don’t really see the point in splitting the franchise; there would probably be two or three separate films here otherwise. But Cruise’s performance as Ethan Hunt is probably the most iconic of his career, as he acts suave and cool whilst running up things or diving off them or clinging onto them. The variety of tones and styles and the increasingly bonkers stuntwork helps define a franchise that is going to be nearly thirty years old when Cruise finally bows out of it, and arguably has produced better films than Bond or Bourne. Oh, and for the record – with a re-watch sorely needed – I’d rank them Fallout, 1, Rogue, Ghost, 2, 3.

Rain Man (1988): arguably the hardest and most successful performance of his career, opposite Dustin Hoffman’s attention-sucking turn. Hoffman got all the plaudits back in the day, but Cruise’s slow-burn shift from, basically, entitled shit to empathetic and melancholy carer is beautifully, organically, realistically played out – and, I’d argue, has aged better.

Collateral (2004): Cruise has rarely played proper baddies (I’d love to see him in a Tarantino film), but he’s cool as ice here, with his salt-and-pepper do, coercing Jamie Foxx into driving him round an ice-cold pitch-black LA as he goes from kill to kill. A tense, gorgeous film, but a great performance from Cruise as the slick assassin.

Edge of Tomorrow (2014): cruise has an ease with charm and/or smarm, and often subverts it in interesting ways; such as the opening of this film, when he’s the slippery coward getting by on his flash and pomp. This gives way to earnest, hard-won heroism as the film progresses, but it’s a bold move; as is the trippy time-loop plot. Thoroughly underrated, this is probably the closest a Cruise film comes to “cult classic”.

Minority Report (2002): there’s a cold, aloof slickness to Spielberg’s direction in this one – lots of glass and lens flare and a desaturated palette – as Cruise’s grieving cop goes on the run. Cruise is very good at running, one of cinema’s all-time great runners, and he deploys that skill to fantastic effect here, managing to feel like the endangered everyman resorting to all manner of freaky sci-fi trickery to clear his name. Feels a little undersung, this one, despite its pedigree; those funky stun-guns deserve a lot of praise.

Magnolia (1999): a dense and complex ensemble of mixed emotions and varying degrees of tragedy, Cruise is shocking as the utterly hateful self-help guru preaching misogynistic bollocks to his crowds of arsehole followers. Yes, yes, we all remember his dialogue and all the swears, but it’s how his layers are gradually unpeeled by the plot that really hits home.

Jerry Maguire (1996): another case of Cruise undermining his own cool image, here as an agent in the midst of an existential crisis. He owns this film, carries it entirely, with a performance that is almost all outward bluster and internal angst, frantically struggling to keep above water. He utterly sells it, makes Jerry a compelling and convincing character, and I don’t care how cheesy it is, “you had me at hello” always makes me cry.

Tropic Thunder (2008): another shocking and surprising supporting turn from Cruise, here displaying comic chops we rarely see. His performance as an utterly awful mogul might have dated a bit, post-Weinstein, but it’s so completely out-there it has to be seen to be believed. In a film full of out-there stuff, it fits right in, and serves as an indication that Cruise has more range than he’s often given credit for.

Eyes Wide Shut (1999): a very strange and divisive film, I really love how Cruise’s intense, internalised doctor carries the narrative just by wandering round strange places, meeting strange people, and seeing some very strange things. It’s an entirely reactive performance with no show or bluster, very languid, almost serene; the calm centre in a storm of batshit intensity and soft porn shenanigans.

#top ten #tom cruise #top gun #top gun maverick #mission impossible #movies #films #actors

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