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spdrvyn · 2 months

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mr. spider and his journalist

you and miguel are rivals on the surface, but there's an irrevocable bond that exists between the two of you when you read between the lines.

injuries. implied wound patching. fluff. hurt/comfort. suggestive. happy valentines, folks!

The fast-paced and riveting action, joint with the simple adrenaline of describing an intense scene was what drew you to this job in the first place. Journaling wasn't easy, while you were no superhero, you were still somewhat putting your safety on the line to witness two adults in skin tight suits and superpowers throw hands at each other.

In spite of everything, you loved your job.

Your name had reached every single article that average Nueva York citizen could even think to get their hands on, your name befell the mouth of every employee in your building whether it was in praise or malice. You didn't care, all that mattered to you was that you were truly out there.

Although, your workplace wasn't the only area of your life where you were severely disliked. Even as you went out and about to record and detail on the spectacles and heroic gestures in this city, its top vigilante still glared at you with ire through his mask.

He was a spider, you were a pest.

Spider-Man had fought many impeccable foes over the years, battled by a villainous organization that was out for his blood in an almost literal sense. Not to mention that he was hurtling fate's delegated task of protecting a multiverse which each had a different version of this maddening, web-weaving hero.

It wasn't like he could bring himself to actually express his distaste towards you, but it was hard to mask his annoyance when you immediately came flocking to him with borderline intrusive questions about his life outside of his work.

After the precipice of disaster subsided once each fight had concluded, the snippiness of your tone as you wrung out questions brought the crowd of clamoring reporters to a halt.

Miguel had to swallow his intrigue time and time again, he'd tried to acknowledge a long time ago that surely you were just another journalist seeking out to actually making something of yourself. But your passion was the flint that sparked his curiosity about you, it was a weakness. He couldn't allow his poise to be wavered by someone like you.

Someone so eloquent and composed, someone so witty and humorous, letting himself get bested by you would be the biggest blow to his massive ego. It would be nightmarish to even approximate the possibility of Miguel having some sort of interest towards you.

You'd already come to your senses a long time ago.

It was silly, really. Obviously you'd discover these underlying feelings for him, why else would you practically be clinging to his side post-mission? Why else would you publish so many stories and reports about his daily miscreancy? A 5th grader could figure it out.

There was so much you knew, that you really shouldn't have. There were details about his life that have retained in your mind, but you didn't even know his full name.

"No further anomalies, Miguel. I'd suggest checking diagnostics though, anomaly activity in this dimension has been active as of late."

Miguel groans, running a hand across his face despite his mask. "Uh huh, right." He doesn't need anymore on his plate right now, for all he could care, you were probably hiding around in a little corner somewhere.

"So it's Miguel?"

Fuck, he really hated being right. And not having a spider sense, that too. "Ay, mierda!" He jolted, you bit on your lip to conceal your giggles. Seeing someone as big as Miguel get startled out of his mind was a little funny. "Do not keep that detail in your little article."

"What kind of person do you think I am, Miguel?" Ugh, he hated the way you say his name even more. "Tu secreto es mi secreto, no need to worry about it. But if I could get a last name too, that would be-"

"Alright, get away from me."

He still remembered the way you chased after him as he approached the edge of the battered rooftop, clutching at his forearm. You'd pester him for details, the most intricate ones, even when he knew that he could just zip right out of there, you always found a way to make him stay. Every single time.

The stirring way that you were always able to show up after nearly every mission he's had, your very presence emanating even when deep into the crowds of people surrounding the scene.

But you didn't show up this time.

Don't call for backup, he'd insisted. A stupid, moronic decision that was because now he was crawling his way, bloody and bruised, throughout a sopping wet alleyway that definitely wasn't only soaking with just the rainwater.

There was no crowd this time, there was no you to be found. He would have noticed a hundred miles away otherwise, his watch had damaged in the aftermath. Narrowly escaping by a hair, he growled frustratedly as the furious taps of his fingers against the small screen didn't register. His talons took the rear, scratching against the tiny panes of glass and only breaking it further.

At that point, there was no more reason to be angry. What's done is done, he fought his battle, he didn't lose, but he wouldn't consider this a win either.

The nano-fabric, originally designed to be as comfortable as can be for your regular vigilante activities, now felt like it clung uncomfortable to Miguel's skin. Sticky, grimy, and bloody. His chest heaved with the effort to just keep breathing, his large frame now so small as he slumped against the rough wall of the alley.

He wondered what you'd say right now, if he hadn't been caught in this blunder. You'd be asking him, what the anomaly looked like, if they were from a different era, their powers, how did he defeat them? So on and so forth, but your absence was more than enough of a bad omen for his failure.

The sound of your voice wasn't something he thought he'd miss, your annoying comments, your inquisitive glances, that sparkle in your eyes whenever he started talking. All those lovely details he'd lost to snide replies and swift conversation enders, he closed his eyes, it was childish to hold onto hope, but maybe thinking about what you'd say, what you'd do, would motivate him to get up. Get away.

Miguel, I honestly just don't know you do it, you would say with a sarcastic rise in your tone.

Say, how does your suit even work? I mean, I know it's nano-tech, but I'm no scientist of any sort. You'd ask, all while poking and prodding at the technology. A privilege he only allows you to have.

I don't know what to do with you, how am I supposed to help when this thing doesn't even have a damn zipper! The frustrated grind in your voice says it all.

Don't die on me, please. I'm sorry if I'm a thorn in your side, okay? I'll stop, just wake up! Wake up, please. You begged, a desperation sewn deeply with the way you grasped at his bandaged hand.

When did he get here?

His body still hurt like hell, trying to get his neck up straight was like having needles straight into the muscles. His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he sees is your eyes. Puffy, swollen, and red from crying, your mouth stuck in a pout, quivering from the amount of sobs that you've let out. Your grip on his hand loosens upon his awakening, you can't hug him without risk of hurting him, so you simply lean in closer.

"You're alive," it's said a lot calmer than the hysterics you were spewing a while ago, a relieved smile gracing your features. "I- I didn't kill you, you're alive!"

The joy rushes into your voice, you're practically vibrating with happiness while trying to fight back the urge to swoop him in your arms. Miguel would, but for obvious reasons, he won't.

"Why would you have killed me?"

"I'm not a science person, how many times do I have to tell you?"

He doesn't bother quipping back, he hums, looking down over at the exposed parts of suits, pushing the blanket you set on him aside to discover that everything was cleaned and patched and stitchedto near perfection. "So you're not a nurse or a science person, but you can fix wounds like no other."

"This is a common book trope, considering how I'm closely tied to a superhero, I feel like being a fixer-upper is a requirement."

"Closely tied?" He says, unamused.

"We'll have to be now! I can't have you scare me like that, I won't ask you any questions for a month as long as I don't see you in any dark alleys all hurt looking." You harumph, you see him press a spot below his ear and all of a sudden-

His mask disengages, fabric disappearing seamlessly as his face is miraculously bestowed onto your gaze. Warm skin from the ambient lighting set to accomodate his hypersensitive senses. Curly and deep brown hair, all mussed from his scuffle. A set of dark crimson eyes that look a beautiful chestnut if you really look from a different angle, you forget to breathe.

"Thank you, but don't get too excited. Consider this a treat for taking care of me," he returns to that sense of stoicism, but your jaw is unfortunately still agape from how awe inspiring he truly is. Now, you'd have to imagine this face every time you even so much as wrote the word spider down.

"I, uh, yeah. Sure,"

This is the first instance he's ever had you so silent. You trekked around your flat for different foods you could feed him, brewing him too many cups of tea to count. You barely even made small talk, it was astounding to him.

He left soon after, the super healing abilities work bound to have started working more efficiently anyway. You bid your goodbyes to him, it was as if you still had the moment of shock written all over your face when he revealed his face to you.

The days that followed were odd, he didn't find himself in any sort of kerfuffle that involved him to be severely injured anymore, but when he noticed you in the crowd, you tended to shy away. You didn't even try to follow him afterward to pester him for details on the battle, there was something so off about it.

So Miguel decides to talk to you about it.

You were idly typing away, contained in a small office from the rest of the room. The chatter from your coworkers were your white noise along with the near silent clicks of your keyboard, the process has you so out of it that you don't pick up on the reflection of navy blue and bright red on your computer screen.

"You," grumbles Miguel and this time, you're started.

"Oh, shock. What are you doing here?" That boisterous confidence you always carried with you had gone mute, all Miguel saw was a drained creative and it made his blood boil.

"Why haven't you been," he doesn't want to say it. Don't make him say it. "Talking to me?"

You tilt your head to the side in confusion, quirking your brow up. Miguel disengages his mask again, you'll never get used to that. "I- what do you mean by that exactly?"

"You know, don't you normally- ask more questions? After I take care of business?" Miguel despises how needy he sounds right now. Please talk to me and keep annoying me, for I miss it so dearly.

"I thought you hated that," your voice drops in volume. "I just thought since the thing that happened that you'd want me to leave you alone for a while."

The absurdity of your statement had him reeling, the reason why he didn't die that night was because of your allergy to negligence, how the thought of even leaving him alone would make you sick to your stomach as you so described. Now, you were giving him distance?

"No," he walked even closer to you, cornering you against your desk and causing you to shrink in your small swivel chair. "You don't get it, do you?"

You shake your head hesitantly, it's too hard to focus. You've touched him before, but never has he actually initiated it. He was mere inches away from you, whether you should focus on not looking like a freshly plucked tomato or his handsome face was between you and God.

He lets out an irritated chuckle, the gleam of his canines prominent from the light of the monitor behind you. "Has it ever struck you in that head of yours that I like talking to you?" He places a hand on one of your arm rests. "That I enjoy your sass, your passion?"

There's that funny feeling again, that feeling from when he revealed himself to you. Discovering such a big revelation from Miguel, something you've dreamed of nearly every night, but now that it's in the palm of your hand, you can't bring yourself to think properly.

"But I– I thought that–"

"It's a yes or no question, hermosa. Answer it."

"No."

The back of your chair hits the wood of your desk as Miguel pushes you, he dwarfs your suroundings, his presence much larger now that both of you are in a place so confined. Now that he wasn't "couchridden". At this proximity, you wouldn't be surprised if he could hear your heartbeat.

"Think again," his other hand moves to tug on your bottom lip as he clashes his own against yours, your whole body tenses and for a split second, he thinks he's seriously messed up this time, until you groan into his mouth and that thought is straight out the window.

Your hands map out his body, from the broad shoulders, tracing the muscle connecting them to his neck, then to the soft hair that you've been dying to touch ever since you've laid your eyes upon it. Your fingers ultimately find home in the curls at the ends.

It's almost filthy. His other hand now trailing down to your neck, wrapping deft fingers around your throat and it causes you to arch your back into him.

He uses his grip on you as leverage to separate, left panting and with a memory to use for later.

"We should get dinner sometime,"

"When are you free?"

"Friday. 7PM."

"Okay," and you lean in to kiss him again.

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #x reader #x you #x y/n #fluff #hurt/comfort #miguel o'hara fluff #suggestive

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tarydarrington · 2 months

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There is one upside to the spiderwebs: Dorian can usually tell that he’s dreaming.

“Tell me,” he says, examining his lute, refusing to make eye contact with the presence looming behind him, “is this actually you? Or am I imagining you all by myself, these days?”

There comes a wet clicking as though of pincers or long, sharp legs. He forces his shudder into a sigh.

That’s the thing: the Spider Queen, her royal creepy highness, never whispers to him anymore when he’s awake. Two beds over, she’s doubtless playing in Opal’s head instead, trying and failing to spin her into a trap.

A sticky tangle of webs weaves itself between his lute strings. His skin crawls with dozens of tiny, invisible legs.

“Is there really a difference?” whispers that familiar voice. “What makes you think I couldn’t hear you if you called for me in that pretty little head?”

Her rumble of laughter comes from every direction at once. Dorian fights the urge to dig into his ear, where the tickle probes deeper and deeper. The itch feels too real for comfort.

It’s not out of the realm of possibility that this nightmare is her making. Opal herself says that things have been quieter lately, and that the voice in her head is more often than not afraid.

And after all, what does a frightened spider do but seek out a new place to hide?

“This is your fault, you know.”

Dorian whirls, finding nothing but empty black laced with spiderwebs. His brother’s voice is unmistakable, but Cyrus is nowhere in sight. Something thick and wet drips down walls he can’t see.

“If you had just stayed where you were supposed to, we would both be safe at home right now.”

“Well, that’s not very nice,” Dorian says lightly. “I hardly think I’m responsible for your decisions.”

There comes a sound of derision that is somehow at once his brother, his mother, and his father. Dorian rolls his neck and hopes it doesn’t look like the squirming it is. The clicking of spider legs grows louder, closer, more insistent. He blinks, leaving his eyes squeezed shut just a heartbeat too long.

“Dorian?”

His eyes fly open. Was there a stone in his hand before? It rests there now glowing faintly blue, warm to the touch.

“Why’d you go?”

Orym’s voice, layered strangely over itself, rings in his ears. Dorian’s fingertips feel numb. He forces a breath of laughter.

“Oh, things to do,” he says. “You know how it is. Something always comes up, doesn’t it?”

With a tight, mirthless smile, Dorian tucks the stone into his web-lined pocket. It will take more than that to fool him. Even neck-deep in nightmares, the memory of headache after headache reminds him that Sending hasn’t worked in weeks.

“Wouldn’t it be so funny if you were doing this to yourself?” Fearne’s voice whispers directly into his ear. He manages to only jump a little, composing himself again as her voice dissolves into breathy laughter all around him.

“Maybe it’s funnier if the Spider Bitch got to you after all that fighting,” says Opal’s voice, just over his shoulder. “You really thought you won, huh? And you didn’t even get anything good out of it.”

Her voice multiplies until it sounds as though a thousand copies stand in a circle all around him.

“You didn’t protect your friends.”

Opal’s voice, Fearne’s voice, Cyrus’s, Orym’s, and a dozen others repeat it one after the other, running together into one continuous whisper. From a thin line of web, a tiny spider drops down onto his shoulder.

He takes a slow breath, deliberate and steady. A dream. It’s only a dream. A few more moments and he’ll be startled awake, and all of this will fade from memory.

Unless the Spider Queen is really here and burrows into his mind too deeply to pull back, of course, but that isn’t a very useful thought.

“Dorian.”

The whispering stops. As though a curtain has fallen around him, muffling an unseen audience, all is suddenly silent. Dorian turns in all directions, finding everything still and black.

The stone is back in his hand.

“We’re alive,” Orym says. “Been to the moon. Going back.”

Behind his voice, the whispers begin to build again. Dorian strains to hear Orym over them. Something about this feels different.

“Find the Tempest.”

Tempest, Tempest, Tempest echoes in the dark, melding with the murmuring.

“If I don’t get the chance again…”

“Enough.”

This is too far. This is knocking on a door Dorian has kept carefully shut—a door through which the Spider Queen is most certainly not invited. He takes a step forward into nothingness, a liquid that might be water splashing underfoot.

“I’ve really missed you.”

The ground gives way, and Dorian falls headlong into waking.

Catha hangs brightly in a sky that stretches as far as the eye can see. Around him lie his friends, and around them a sprawling field rolls with the wind. Dorian’s heart pounds as he braces both hands on the ground, sitting up to feel the wind on his face.

His fingertips dig into the dirt. The dew-soft ground is clear of spiderwebs. Just an ordinary, everyday nightmare. The gods are far too preoccupied to whisper in his ears.

He shouldn’t have needed the spiderwebs to know it was a dream. His brother would never blame him for any of this, and neither would Orym.

There are a lot of things that Orym—grieving, heartsick, married-at-heart Orym—wouldn’t do.

Dorian takes a breath, running a thumb over the Sending Stone in his pocket. It feels warm to the touch despite the weather, the way it might if a message had truly come through. Dorian stuffs it into his bag with a knot in his chest.

Morning comes after very little sleep, and Dorian crawls out of his bedroll to find the others already gathered around the remains of their campfire, breakfast in hand. He waves off Dariax’s offer of a stale pastry with what he hopes resembles a carefree smile. The Stone weighs heavy in his bag.

He finds an excuse: they’re running low on water, and there’s a stream nearby. It’s easy enough to slip away from the group and find a quiet clearing out of earshot. He sits cross-legged beside the rushing water, spends a moment debating exactly how foolish he’s being, then fishes the stone from his bag.

He clears his throat. Takes a breath. Lets it out, clears his throat again, and takes another.

“Orym.”

The stone buzzes with magic. Dorian’s heart hammers in his ears.

“I hope you’re out there somewhere. Silly to think this time would be any different. I miss hearing your voice.” He grimaces. “Opal and Dariax say hello!”

The message cuts out before the last word is out of his mouth, his head crowding with static. Dorian winces and rides it out, wiping a thin trail of blood from his nose.

Well. That settles that.

Probably for the best—what was he thinking with a line like that? ‘I miss your voice?’

He tucks the stone away, dipping his waterskin into the stream. Only a dream. He will call the awful feeling in his chest resignation and examine it no further.

It had been a silly thought, he reminds himself as he returns to the group with a smile and a wave. He ought to have known by the spiderwebs.

#hello friends. i have wrat #dorian storm #dorym #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #c3 #mine #mine:fic #i am rusty but i am not immune to dorym crumbs #there is some exu-typical spider-based creepiness in this one if that is not your jam #dorian

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shakinblindandhazy · 1 year

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my favourite midnights lyrics!

this is purely self indulgent

lavender haze

"Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don't ever say too much

And you don't really read into

My melancholia"

maroon

"When the silence came

We were shaking, blind and hazy

How the hell did we lose sight of us again?

Sobbing with your head in your hands

Ain't that the way shit always ends?

You were standing hollow-eyed in the hallway

Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us"

☆

"The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon"

anti-hero

"I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis"

☆

"I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero"

☆

"Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman?"

snow on the beach

"Life is emotionally abusive

And time can't stop me quite like you did"

☆

"This scene feels like what I once saw on a screen

I searched "aurora borealis green"

I've never seen someone lit from within

Blurring out my periphery"

☆

"My smile is like I won a contest

And to hide that would be so dishonest

And it's fine to fake it 'til you make it

'Til you do, 'til it's true"

you're on your own kid

"I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare"

☆

"The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it

You've got no reason to be afraid"

☆

"You're on your own, kid

Yeah, you can face this

You're on your own, kid

You always have been"

midnight rain

"I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain"

☆

"All the love we unravel

And the life I gave away

'Cause he was sunshine, I was midnight rain"

question...?

"Can I ask you a question?

Did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room?"

☆

"Does it feel like everything's just like

Second best after that meteor strike?"

vigilante shit

"Draw the cat eye sharp enough to kill a man

You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them

Sometimes I wonder which one'll be your last lie

They say looks can kill and I might try

I don't dress for women

I don't dress for men

Lately, I've been dressin' for revenge"

☆

"Ladies always rise above

Ladies know what people want

Someone sweet and kind and fun

The lady simply had enough"

bejeweled

"Familiarity breeds contempt

Don't put me in the basement

When I want the penthouse of your heart"

☆

"Baby boy, I think I've been too good of a girl

Did all the extra credit, then got graded on a curve"

labyrinth

"You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last"

☆

"Uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again

Oh, I'm fallin' in love

I thought the plane was goin' down

How'd you turn it right around?"

karma

"You're terrified to look down

'Cause if you dare, you'll see the glare

Of everyone you burned just to get there

It's coming back around"

☆

"Spiderboy, king of thieves

Weave your little webs of opacity

My pennies made your crown"

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Karma's a relaxing thought

Aren't you envious that for you it's not?"

sweet nothing

"Outside, they're push and shovin'

You're in the kitchen hummin'

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin'"

☆

"On the way home

I wrote a poem

You say, "What a mind"

This happens all the time"

☆

"Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors

And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"

To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it"

mastermind

"And the touch of a hand lit the fuse

Of a chain reaction of countermoves

To assess the equation of you

Checkmate, I couldn't lose"

☆

"You see, all the wisest women

Had to do it this way

'Cause we were born to be the pawn

In every lover's game"

☆

"No one wanted to play with me as a little kid

So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since

To make them love me and make it seem effortless

This is the first time I've felt the need to confess

And I swear

I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian

'Cause I care"

the great war

"You drew up some good faith treaties

I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely

But diesel is desire, you were playing with fire"

☆

"And maybe it's the past that's talking

Screaming from the crypt

Telling me to punish you for things you never did

So I justified it"

☆

"It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

Your finger on my hairpin triggers

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

I really thought I'd lost you"

bigger than the whole sky

"No words appear before me in the aftermath

Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea"

☆

"Every single thing to come has turned into ashes

'Cause it's all over, it's not meant to be

So I'll say words I don't believe"

☆

"Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

You were bigger than the whole sky

You were more than just a short time

And I've got a lot to pine about

I've got a lot to live without

I'm never gonna meet

What could've been, would've been

What should've been you"

paris

"Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours"

☆

"I wanna transport you

To somewhere the culture's clever

Confess my truth

In swooping, sloping, cursive letters"

high infidelity

"Lock broken, slur spoken

Wound open, game token

I didn't know you were keeping count"

☆

"Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

The slowest way is never loving them enough"

☆

"Oh, there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

And it's never enough, it's never enough"

glitch

"I think there's been a glitch, oh, yeah

Five seconds later, I'm fastening myself to you with a stitch, oh, yeah"

☆

"I was supposed to sweat you out

In search of glorious happenings of happenstance on someone else's playground

But it's been two-thousand one-hundred ninety days of our love blackout"

would've could've should've

"I would've stayed on my knees

And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil

At nineteen

And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven

And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts

Memories feel like weapons

And now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering"

"And if you never saved me from boredom

☆

I could've gone on as I was

But, Lord, you made me feel important

And then you tried to erase us"

☆

"God rest my soul

I miss who I used to be

The tomb won't close

Stained glass windows in my mind

I regret you all the time

I can't let this go

I fight with you in my sleep

The wound won't close

I keep on waiting for a sign

I regret you all the time"

☆

"If clarity's in death, then why won't this die?

Years of tearing down our banners, you and I

Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts

Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first"

dear reader

"Dear reader, burn all the files

Desert all your past lives

And if you don't recognize yourself

That means you did it right"

☆

"So I wander through these nights

I prefer hiding in plain sight

My fourth drink in my hand

These desperate prayers of a cursed man

Spilling out to you for free

But darling, darling, please

You wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking

If you knew where I was walking

To a house, not a home, all alone 'cause nobody's there

Where I pace in my pen and my friends found friends who care

No one sees when you lose when you're playing solitaire"

the end.

#i shouldve just posted the entirety of youre on your own kid #and mastermind #and wouldve couldve shouldve #ive wanted to post my favorite lyrics for ages now #taylor swift #midnights #lyrics #music #anti hero #youre on your own kid #mastermind #wouldve couldve shouldve #maroon

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edenmemes · 3 years

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cyberpunk 2077 starters

more to be added !

❝ the wider the smile, the bigger the lie. ❞ ❝ it’s called a reputation. you should try having one. ❞ ❝ if only you were the one calling the shots, you would already have the city at your feet. ❞ ❝ seems like you’ve got a real problem with authority. ❞ ❝ well, then it’s a good thing i’m on your side then, huh? ❞ ❝ you’re starting to remind me of me. ❞ ❝ only people who know me real well can use my real name. ❞ ❝ hope that’s it for last requests. not sure i can handle more. ❞ ❝ look at me - see this? this is a look of un-fucking-surprise on my face. ❞ ❝ actually, i don’t think of you at all. ever. ❞ ❝ wanna part ways on good terms. as friends. ❞ ❝ listen, i know i fucked up a lot of things. either let down or used every last person who gave me their trust. ❞ ❝ been a rough year...and to make things worse, i fell in love. ❞ ❝ funny how you still manage to surprise me sometimes. ❞ ❝ haven’t managed to get my head straight yet, not after everything that happened. ❞ ❝ hey, look at me. right in the eyes. choose your next words carefully. might be the last choice you ever make. ❞ ❝ i’m a master of cuddling, too - got a black belt, multiple disciplines. ❞ ❝ tsh...gonna miss you something awful. ❞ ❝ here come the test results: you are a horrible person. ❞ ❝ there is a saying in your country… one moment, it will come to me…ah now i remember! go fuck yourself. ❞ ❝ you need anything, i’m here. ❞ ❝ wanna see me give up? sounds like something you’d do. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry, do you hear me poking around your personal business? digging through your past? ❞ ❝ what you did for me, i’ll never forget it. ❞ ❝ it’s hard to believe, but it looks like everything’s gonna be alright. ❞ ❝ you ain’t dying yet. i got you. ❞ ❝ see ya in the next life, friend. ❞ ❝ i allowed my temper to flare and for that i apologize. even i can get carried away at times. ❞ ❝ shame. was starting to like you… ❞ ❝ i’m just glad your mother didn’t live to see this. the heart should break but once. ❞ ❝ there are not many like you, but without you the world would have long turned into shadows and dust. ❞ ❝ you put a barrel to my skull not so long ago. ❞ ❝ there’s a difference between being an idiot and believing people wanna do good. ❞ ❝ you plot, you plan, you calculate, and weave webs so tangled you sometimes lose yourself in them. ❞ ❝ i’m a serious man. and serious matters are what, if not all, that concern me. ❞ ❝ you’re tough as nails. a warrior without mercy. ❞ ❝ i’ve managed one thing for now. not to fuck this up... what we have. ❞ ❝ you got a short fuse, sure, but there ain’t no dynamite in that soul. ❞ ❝ really think i can make it? survive this? ❞ ❝ if there’s nothing you can do to help me, then…what the hell do i do? ❞ ❝ i’ll kill anyone who gets in my way. you included. ❞ ❝ if they find us, they won’t bother with arresting and interrogating, do you understand? ❞ ❝ everyone admires you, but you know that your only reward will be the next task you’re given. ❞ ❝ just don’t fall in love with me… ❞ ❝ promise you’ll try to get some sleep? ❞ ❝ it often seems that you’re on your own, but always remember you have a team you can count on. ❞ ❝ whatever you’re planning, make sure you see it through to the end. ❞ ❝ it can get tough when it feels like there’s no end to it in sight. ❞ ❝ i don’t need this world anymore, but i need you. ❞ ❝ it doesn’t matter how well you do something, as long as you look good doing it. ❞ ❝ i always felt like my mission was to cross the ultimate frontier. that frontier is death. ❞ ❝ something in me died back then. i just couldn’t handle it. ❞ ❝ would you take a bullet for me? ❞ ❝ what, a little guilt creeps in and that’s that? you give up? ❞ ❝ it’s an awful place...it is no wonder you are losing your mind. ❞ ❝ i realize you’re there, always were, and a wave of relief washes over me. ❞ ❝ remember when you were asked: quiet life or blaze of glory? shame you chose wrong. ❞ ❝ ooooooooh, i get what’s going on here. you’re jealous. ❞ ❝ think dangerous; be dangerous. think weak; be weak. ❞ ❝ it’s true what they say. you’re good. really fucking good. got a stick up your ass, through. ❞ ❝ hah. my mind. that’s…that’s a touchy subject. ❞ ❝ y’know, they say time is the best teacher. i used to think that was true. ❞ ❝ you know what, sweetheart? we’ll have plenty of time to tear at each other’s throats later. ❞ ❝ i have to sit and think…about everything. ❞ ❝ no really, it’s ok. it just scraped me. ❞ ❝ a peaceful death in this town? guy won the jackpot. ❞ ❝ sorry you had to witness that. things just get complicated sometimes. ❞ ❝ who you work for? start talking! ❞ ❝ well, well….looks like fortune favors the stupid, too. ❞ ❝ day’s not over yet. you still have a chance to piss me off. ❞ ❝ what’s free comes most costly. ❞ ❝ sometimes two people find themselves at the wrong place at the right time. ❞ ❝ i’m in this city, free to do whatever i want with my life, but…am i really free? ❞ ❝ i sense anything going wrong, i’m out. ❞ ❝ drop by if you ever want to talk. or if you don’t we can just sit together in silence. either way, i’m here for you. ❞ ❝ i’m nobody, i’m a zero. ❞ ❝ you know, i still got that contract to kill you. ❞ ❝ have you known love? do you know what it is? ❞ ❝ talked in your sleep, you know. ❞ ❝ tsomeone…someone should give you a checkup, see if you’re ok. someone you trust. ❞ ❝ goodbye, and please - stay away. you’ve done enough already. ❞ ❝ one thing we can’t do is be afraid of others. ❞ ❝ that the pick-up line you settled on? ❞ ❝ right…so, gonna stop by? or gonna make me grovel? ❞ ❝ i’ve missed you, you know, heh… ❞ ❝ it seems all good, like nothing bad ever happened. ❞ ❝ i…i was angry…i must’ve lost control. ❞ ❝ if you wanna change the world, there’s always a price to be paid. ❞ ❝ you ever wake up in the middle of the night…and not know who you were for a second…? you ever feel like you weren’t really ‘you’? ❞ ❝ here i feared you’d forgotten about me. ❞ ❝ all right. you know why we’re here, don’t you? say you do. ❞ ❝ you don’t realize it, but…you’ve given me something beautiful. ❞ ❝ i’m really starting to feel like your puppet. ❞ ❝ if you wanted my attention, you just earned it. ❞ ❝ the stronger survive. you’re either somebody or you fizzle out into nothing. ❞ ❝ now answer my question. honestly. forthrightly. are you here alone? ❞ ❝ my whole life’s a fucking cosmic joke. ❞ ❝ i know that it might seem like you’re trying to help, but i’d rather that you just left us alone…otherwise things won’t end well. ❞ ❝ so you can be nice when you feel like it. ❞ ❝ it’s always good to have the strength of others to support you too. ❞ ❝ you’re worth more than you think. trust me. ❞ ❝ talked in your sleep, you know. ❞ ❝ well, i slept like a puppy. that’s a crazy shoulder you have there. ❞ ❝ is that a quiver in your voice i hear? ❞ ❝ what makes someone a criminal? getting caught. ❞ ❝ the only limit to what you can do is what you’re willing to do. ❞ ❝ you only have to look at you. a venomous spider wearing the mask of a nice lady. but i will not be fooled. ❞ ❝ ugh, trust issues, again? thought we’d talked it all out. ❞ ❝ what the fuck is going on? i feel like i’m not in control of anything anymore… ❞ ❝ sorry, but, i’d rather be alone right now. ❞ ❝ remember, a while back, you told me to give you a solid kick in the pants if i saw you diving into the stupid pool again? ❞ ❝ sit your ass down a minute, honey, and breathe. ❞ ❝ lately i feel like i’ve been ranting and raging, so i just want to make sure you know i appreciate what you did for me. ❞ ❝ i’ll just lie here a while, by your side, gazing at the stars. ❞ ❝ when the time comes, it will be my life for yours. ❞ ❝ how did we grow so far apart? ❞ ❝ no more mayhem, no more shady-ass schemes. done with that. ❞ ❝ say it. say it out loud. not for me, but for yourself. ❞ ❝ a pathetic attempt to get under my skin. ❞ ❝ i loathe it - this whole ‘playing tough in the face of death’ thing. ❞ ❝ the road to the stars is always paved with darkness. ❞ ❝ wait up! don’t do this. you can still change your mind. ❞ ❝ dammit, no matter how hard i try, i can’t forget you... ❞ ❝ plenty of others out there’re more deservin’ of life. but even so... i’d never wish you dead. ❞ ❝ truth is everything’s going off the rails. i feel worse and worse. ❞ ❝ i’m nowhere near as tough as you and i can’t pretend to be anymore. ❞ ❝ you don’t seriously think i’ll just up and leave you? i’m with you - through thick and thin. ❞ ❝ i’d say i’m happy to see you, but it’s not good to lie. ❞ ❝ i’ll get us through this, you’ll see. ❞ ❝ i’m just happy, like, dumb happy, you know? you’re really amazing. ❞ ❝ you’re playing with fire. don’t dare cross the line. ❞ ❝ i’m afraid things won’t be the same between us if i tell you the whole truth. ❞ ❝ do you even know what i had to sacrifice to get where i am? the price i paid? ❞ ❝ your first time here, isn’t it? want some advice? go the fuck away. ❞ ❝ when someone tells me to not worry, they’re usually hiding something. ❞ ❝ it’s not easy talking about what’s biting me at the ass. ❞ ❝ just promise me one thing: don’t forget me. ❞ ❝ legends - know where you’ll find most of them? the graveyard. ❞ ❝ ah, you try to provoke me. is this wise, you think? ❞ ❝ i can lead others away from the darkness. ❞ ❝ the more i say everything’s okay, the more i feel like i’m straight up lying. ❞ ❝ you need to take a few deep breaths. then rethink all this, hard.. ❞ ❝ you can call me back. do you know why? because i am here for you. ❞ ❝ why’d you wanna meet me here? for the view, or you turning sentimental on me? ❞ ❝ know what? think i figured you out. ❞ ❝ if not for you...i’d be long dead. several times over. ❞ ❝ you’re adorable. didn’t realize you still had a child-like imagination...and intelligence. ❞ ❝ death walks in your wake. ❞ ❝ just trying to live with it. survive, actually. ❞ ❝ the world doesn’t forgive. it eats people alive. but you - well, you survived. ❞ ❝ everyone i’ve met so far says i’m far too gone. ❞ ❝ hey, come on, you’re not the one at blame here. ❞ ❝ don’t make the same mistake i made. say goodbye to the people you love. ❞ ❝ well, aren’t you just bursting with a can-do attitude? ❞

#i may have . . .. accidentally deleted the original one

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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The Bones (Reid Series) Part 2

Summary: After doing an even deeper dive on Valerie’s past, Spencer finally meets her, but his invasiveness isn’t the worst part ... the worst part is he might actually like her.

Playlist: “The Bones” by Maren Morris & Hozier (BONUS: song includes major foreshadowing) Category: Series, Fluff, Soft Angst, Eventual smut and *NSFW content Pairing: Spencer Reid POV x Fem!OC - Valerie Content Warning: invasion of privacy, allusions to Maeve’s death, arrhythmia Word Count: 3.4k

Part 1 |

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After firmly deciding not to weave Penelope into my tangled web, I was met with the arduous burden of conducting my own research.

Firstly, I would need a computer - yeah ... a computer. That’s how far I was willing to go for this pursuit. I once vowed never to fall victim to modern technology’s clutches, and yet here I was, doing my research on a public library’s computer. To my credit, I hadn’t gone out and bought one, I was merely using my resources.

With the need for a device out of the way, all that was left was the knowledge of what to look for. But that didn’t pose a problem either.

Funny enough, with as many rules and restrictions as there are regarding patient privacy and confidentiality, all it took was matching dates of news stories with hospital records to complete my research. I was fairly certain I was only scratching the surface of information about Valerie as opposed to the sea of things I could’ve uncovered if I asked for Garcia’s help, but there are only so many lines a person can cross in one week.

This was my limit.

Call me naive, but I was actually quite surprised with just how expansive the internet is. To an almost relentless degree, I would open an article and it would lead me to ten more about the same topic. It was this never ending rabbit hole that seemed to spiral on forever. I kept digging deeper and deeper until I could no longer dig.

I’d officially hit rock bottom.

It took me a grand total of just two hours to unearth all the ‘dirt’ I could on a young Valerie Bishop.

Local 16-year-old Wins Nevada’s Statewide Art Contest! Published by Henderson Press.

Valerie, just a sophomore in high school at the time, was donning what any experimental teen girl would’ve worn in the early 2000s - bootcut jeans and a sequin blouse over top of a plain camisole. And if I zoomed in close enough, I could spot the evidence of a sparkly blue shadow coating her eyelids. Surprisingly, though, that wasn’t the first thing I noticed.

It was that smile. That tooth-achingly sweet smile.

Though I never got the chance to see Maeve truly smile, that’s what I imagined it would look like.

The photographer must’ve caught her midway through a laugh, at least that’s what the image of her slightly open-mouthed grin told me. Meanwhile, her two tiny hands were clenching her overbearingly large trophy while her artwork stood behind her as the background.

It didn’t take me long to figure out why her painting won. Simply put, there was no need to see anyone else’s art to know that they couldn’t possibly compete with hers.

Hers was an abstract rendition of what I believe to be a forest of some sort. The detail is what I was most drawn to. It would’ve been unbelievable on its own but the fact that she was 16 when she painted it? That’s what was unbelievable to me.

If that’s how talented she was at that age, I could only imagine how much more talented she became with time. However, I lost the chance to investigate the current state of her skill before a related article from The Cleveland Gazette about Valerie succeeded this one.

From Award-Winning Artist to Henderson’s Hero

Read my interview with 17-year-old Valerie Bishop to find out more about her struggle with arrhythmia and how she turned her pain into a project!

By Kelli Gallagher from the Cleveland Gazette.

Gallagher: Thank you so much for letting me interview you, Valerie.

Bishop: Of course! I’m happy to.

Gallagher: You’ve become somewhat of a hero in Henderson, Nevada, haven’t you?

Bishop: I wouldn’t call myself a hero ... but if everyone else wants to - I’m fine with that. (laughs)

Gallagher: Don’t be so modest! I mean, what you’ve done is so incredible, and you’re only what? Seventeen?

Bishop: Yes, ma’am. I just turned seventeen this past August.

Gallagher: Wow, I can’t believe how young you are and yet you’ve already accomplished so much. I saw that you won a statewide art contest last year. Tell me more about that.

Bishop: That’s a funny story actually. My Grandma Sheila was the one who entered me in that contest. I didn’t even know about it until I won it. She’s always surprising me, though. In fact, she’s the one that surprised me with my first ever art supplies, when I was about eight or so. They were these super expensive oil paints, and I knew she couldn’t afford them, so I told her we should return them and get something cheaper, but she said, “Nonsense. When the bones are good the rest don’t matter. A house don’t fall when the bones are good.” That was kind of her saying.

A house don’t fall when the bones are good.

The bones.

Gallagher: I’m interested to know more about your relationship with your grandma. If I’m remembering correctly, she was also diagnosed with arrhythmia a while back too, right?

Bishop: Yes, she was, but that’s never slowed her down. And as for our relationship, my grandma and I have always been close, but arrhythmia, in a weird way, has brought us even closer. She has always been my biggest supporter and the fact that we’re both on this journey together makes her my biggest supporter even more so.

Gallagher: Absolutely. Now, I also heard that you’ve started a fundraising program to possibly start a gallery and studio in Virginia Beach. If you don’t mind me asking, why Virginia Beach? Is there any special significance?

Bishop: Actually, that’s where my grandma met my grandpa, and they got married and started a family there, too. So if Grandma Sheila hadn’t been there to meet him, she wouldn’t have had my mom, and that would mean I wouldn’t have been here either. I like to think Virginia Beach is where it all started. In a way, it’s where my bones are. That solid foundation in Virginia gave me everything I have today.

Gallagher: That is just incredible. I’m so glad to see your fundraising project is thriving, but I can’t imagine any of this has been particularly easy for you. You were diagnosed right around the time your senior year was starting right?

Bishop: Yes ma’am.

Gallagher: So what brought you from Henderson to Cleveland?

Bishop: Well, actually, I didn’t want to move, especially not before I graduated, but Cleveland has the best cardiovascular hospital in the country and my health is far more important than graduating in the same state I grew up in. So when my parents were willing to move me and my sister out here, I saw it as a privilege rather than something to be sad about.

Gallagher: I am so inspired by you, Valerie.

Bishop: (laughs) Really, why?

Gallagher: Despite everything that’d been thrown at you, you are still so grateful. I hope you never lose that.

Bishop: I promise you I won’t.

Gallagher: So one last thing before I go, what is one hope you have for your future self?

Bishop: I hope, future self, that your ‘bones’ are still strong.

Gallagher: Beautiful. Thank you so much again for doing this, Valerie. I sincerely hope you reach your goal and you get to open up that gallery and studio in Virginia Beach.

At the bottom of the article, there was a footnote from Kelli Gallagher.

Exactly 10 years later, Bishop was able to move to Virginia Beach and open up her gallery and studio.

By the end of the article, I felt a genuine sense of pride for Valerie, and I know I had virtually no right to know these things about her, but I could still be proud of her for them right?

I would never fully get my answer to this question before I crossed the final boundary.

After exhausting all that I could gather from the internet without Penelope’s assistance, the only thing left for me to do was actually meet her in person. However, this would prove to be a bigger obstacle that it seemed. I decided to delay the daunting task until the next day. A decision partially influenced by the phrase, ‘sleep on it.’ I prayed I’d gain clarity on what to do when I woke up the next morning, but even with a night’s rest, I was still undecided as I drove to Virginia Beach once more.

To sit in my car that was conveniently parked right in front of the gallery was a poor choice. Because with every passing second, the temptation to walk in grew, but the fear of regret dampened those impulses. The more I thought about it, the more I psyched myself out. Between my two choices, to freeze or to fight, I should’ve taken the third - to flee. But I was here now and I couldn’t leave empty-handed for a second time.

After a moment’s indecision, adrenaline coursed through my veins to give me the courage to get out of my car. When I felt an outdoor breeze blow over me, I knew there was no going back now. Right when I walked in, the little bell above the door rang, solidifying that I was officially crossing the threshold, and whether I liked it or not, she was going to see me after hearing me walk in.

“I’ll be right with you!” A small voice called out from somewhere in the back. She was hidden from my immediate sight, and somehow that made it so much worse. It was now I that was waiting for her, instead of her unknowingly waiting for me.

As though I were prey getting ready to escape a predator, I stayed put by the door. It gave me a full view of the entire place anyway.

Scoping out my surroundings, I spotted the paintings that were carefully measured and placed on the walls, almost to perfection. I had no time to notice anything more before the person in the back walked out.

Immediately when I saw her, I knew.

“You’re … not Valerie.” I couldn’t help sounding so disappointed but luckily, the woman that came out took no offense to my observation.

“No, I’m not,” She laughed. “But I can get her for you-”

“No wait!” I uselessly leapt forward to stop her from saying, “Vee! There’s someone out here to see you!” But that’s precisely what she did anyway. Evidently oblivious of my previous protests, she politely smiled back at me. “She’ll be right out.”

For the second time that day, I waited with bated breath, anxiously anticipating the arrival of Valerie. And I was almost too focused on subduing the pounding of my heart to realize that she was actually walking out of the back right now.

“Hi, sorry about that!” A new voice chirped.

Valerie.

The moment I laid eyes on her, it became clear to me that the pictures in her files hardly did her justice. Nothing could compare to the real sight of her. I was only able to catch the profile of her face when I saw her in the cafe, but in her entirety, I began to wax nostalgic. Though her face and hair and body had transformed into that of a grown woman’s features, I could still identify the same tooth-achingly sweet smile that a younger Valerie once wore on the front page of the Henderson Press. She was no beast to conquer, she was just a girl, smiling at me in that same gentle way.

Her expression just as well showed no indication of recognition, not that she would recognize me, considering my letter was anonymous and unless she pulled the same stunt I did, she wouldn’t ever recognize who I was.

“I’m Val,” She made her greeting to me while untying her dirtied waist apron, and it was merely the action that caused my gaze to fall to her hips, but when she shed the apron, I was still staring. There was something sort of mesmerizing about the way they swayed as she approached. It wasn’t until they stopped swaying completely that I realized they did so because there was no more distance to advance - she was already right there in front of me, patiently watching me stare.

“Val?” I blinked hard to revert my gaze while also playing into the part that I had no idea who she was.

“Mhm. Short for Valerie,” She confirmed happily. “Like the Amy Winehouse song.”

This time, I genuinely didn’t know what she was referring to, and my confused countenance prompted her to clarify, “You don’t know that song?”

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she began to playfully sing, “Well, sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water ...”

While she watched my face and waited for the recitation of the song to jog my memory, I was just as much studying her face. I could tell she was only kidding when she sang, evidenced by the laugh that followed her rendition, but it sounded so unironically good that I had to question what other talents she possessed.

“Um, I was actually thinking more like Valerie, the martyred medieval saint, whose name stood for strength and health.” No sooner than the words spilled from my mouth did I recognize the freudian slip - the simultaneous coincidence and confession. The coincidence was that, now, with Maeve’s heart beating in her chest, she lived up to her name - she was newly strong and healthy. But I worried, she would see the correlation I drew between her name and her successful transplant and would realize that I knew more about her than I let on. Did I just give away too much?

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier. What was it?” Her casual dismissiveness of my previous statement did nothing to ease my worries. Was she beginning to piece everything together?

“Oh, right!” I said dumbly. “S-Spencer. I’m Spencer.” I was such a blubbering bundle of nerves that I actually reached out to shake her hand - a stranger’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Spencer,” She softly laughed, which was hopefully not out of the enjoyment of seeing me squirm. “What can I do for you?”

A loaded question, don’t you think? What can you do for me, Valerie? Well, for one thing, you could’ve answered my letter, but to say something as bold as that would require me to admit the real reason I was here, and how could I do that without mentioning how I found you in the first place?

“Um ...” Whose birthday is the soonest? “My friend Emily’s birthday is coming up and I was wondering if I could possibly buy a painting from you as a birthday present.”

There was the faintest perceptible skepticism in her expression, but that could’ve just been my paranoia talking because in the next breath, she didn’t suggest a proclivity to my deceit. “Yeah, of course! Do you know what her favorite medium is? Or her favorite artist? Or her favorite style of art?”

For every addition to the question, I wordlessly shook my head no. Was my lie already unraveling? Could she see right through me?

“No worries. If you want, you can walk around the gallery and tell me if you see anything you think she’d like.” She made her offer to me sweetly, then disappeared into the back room again. I tried to follow her with my eyes for as long as I could, but from where I was standing, I couldn’t see very far into it. I wandered a little further into the center of the gallery to possibly catch a glimpse of what was occupying her time back there, but when I heard the chattering of two voices, Valerie and the other woman, coming from the same general direction, I realized I was completely alone in this part of the studio.

With no one around to bear witness but these portraits, I could’ve easily slipped out and made my escape, and I might’ve even done it had it not been for the unmistakable gravitational pull forcing me to stay here and walk about the room.

Making my way throughout the gallery, I would pause every now and then when a painting would stand out to me, which was often, considering each picture was impressive.

But there was one painting in particular that piqued my interest. It made me feel something I’d never felt before.

It wasn’t special by any means. By rights, I shouldn’t have even noticed it, for it wasn’t the largest painting, nor the smallest one - it wasn’t even the most average painting. But it felt exceptionally ... Valerie. I had no doubt in my mind that she painted this one - in fact, I had a good bet that she painted most of these portraits, if not all of them - but this one. There was just something about it that I couldn’t put my finger on.

“So,” A draft was created from where Valerie swiftly and unexpectedly joined me at my side. “What do you think?”

“Um, there’s definitely something,” I struggled to find the word. “appealing about this one.” Almost as soon as the word came out of my mouth, I knew it was only a matter of time before she called out the inadequacy of my answer.

“Appealing?” She repeated in mockery. “That’s the best you got? Come on, you’ve been standing here for like ten minutes. There must be something about it you like.”

“I’m not sure.” I honestly admitted with a shrug.

“There’s no wrong answer.” She assured me, but I found that hard to believe.

“So if I said I see a grizzly bear attacking a UFO, that wouldn’t be wrong?”

“Nope,” She popped the p. “If that’s how you interpret it then that’s how you interpret it. Just because someone else sees it differently, doesn’t mean you’re wrong.” It would’ve sounded like complete bullshit or nauseatingly cheesy coming out of someone else’s mouth, but her delivery felt so genuine. It actually moved me.

As she said this, she turned her head in my direction to look up at me, causing her shoulder to brush my upper arm, sending a wave of goosebumps all over my body.

She was so close.

But I was so unbothered by her proximity that I didn’t even notice exactly how close she really was. If someone else had invaded my personal space like that, I would’ve moved in the opposite direction just on instinct, but I didn’t even think to do that with Valerie. I was so comfortable with her being there.

But was that just because a part of her was once Maeve’s? Was the entire foundation of my likening to Valerie built upon that single attribute?

Was that my bones?

“Um,” I began fidgeting with my hands to self-soothe. “I like it. I don’t know why. But I like it. How’s that for an answer?”

There was a pause before her response that compelled me to look at her, but when I did so, she was already looking at me. “I’ll take it,” She nodded. “It’s the biggest compliment to me if my art can make you feel something.”

Was it the art that made me feel something ... or you?

“I’ll tell you what,” She walked over to grab something from the front desk. She came back with a small piece of cardstock. “I’m going to an art exhibition next weekend. Why don’t you come with me and see if you can’t find something for Emily there?”

She handed me the paper, which was actually her business card. “You don’t have to have an answer for me today, but call me when you do.” She seemed to think that was the end of the conversation, but I still had more questions.

“You’re inviting me?” was the first question that came to mind, albeit the dumbest one.

“Yeah, you can be my plus one.”

I gulped to dislodge the lump in my throat. “Like-like your date?”

She furrowed her brows with mild confusion. “Um ... sure, if that’s what you wanna call it,” which was the last thing she said to me before vanishing within the back room again.

I peered back down at the card and tapped it gently on the palm on my hand as though to register its presence really being there.

For all intents and purposes, this card was meaningless. But to me, it was the formal consenting - nay, invitation - to reach out to her again. She was willingly extending this line of contact to me.

No more public library computers. No more files. No more ‘research.’ Just her number - a way to reach her without veering off my moral compass.

Despite this, I still had no clue whether or not I was going to accept her offer.

All that I did know was that I wanted to see her again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

PART 3 COMING SOON!

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mrsmalfoymagic · 3 years

Text

Card Three

“S. Black”

Great, just what we needed, more fuel to add to the fire of rumours and speculations about us.

Sirius and I were close. Too close, many of our classmates would argue. And I got it, there was no denying there was a… tension about us – I’d always catch him staring up at me in the great hall, but that’s only because I’d be looking in the first place. But we were best friends. Always hung out and studied together, spent all of our weekends with the rest of the Marauders (although somehow it would result in just the two of us heading off together as we’d have lost track from our conversations and torments). We were an unrivalled duo. Every year we’d rig the system so that we’d be on the same timetable, even at desperate times he’d used Polyjuice potion just so that he could be in the same classes as me when he had free periods.

But no. Just friends. At least, that’s what I liked to convince myself, and had done for the entirety of our time at Hogwarts.

So, this was going to be totally fine if I kept my composure.

With that, trying to cast any unruly thoughts aside, I approached the door to the closet. James Potter was stood there, and with a friendly greet and wink, he allowed me in.

Damn, this room is small.

It wasn’t even a solid minute before the door opened again, allowing a small glimpse of light into the room. I held my breath as I could sense Sirius was now behind me knocking shelves, kicking supplies and cursing as he ran his hands through the empty space ahead trying to find his bearings in the swallowing darkness.

“Where the hell are you?” Sirius laughed in defeat, before accidentally snagging at my hand.

Accidentally, I was sure. So why was he not letting go?

I felt the pressure of being issued closer to him, sliding against his forearm until I was directly in front, his wild curls reaching to my shoulders.

“Might want to keep your distance, Sirius. Don’t want them to talk.” I insinuated about our classmates.

“They already talk.” His voice was tired.

“Right. Just like the rumour about the library.”

“And Hogsmeade.”

“During Divinations class.”

“- Under the whomping willow. My personal favourite.” I could hear his trademark smirk.

“- Only because you started that one.”

“You never complained though, did you?” He now webbed his fingers between mine. I didn’t reply, instead took a long, broken breath, and gulped as I considered what he was doing. He was never this way with me, never handsy or intimate. His voice was melting me, but I could never show it.

He continued with a changing tone. It was darker, laced with temptation as his grip tightened.

“You know, come to think of it, part of me has thought for a while you wouldn’t mind if the rumours were true.”

“Strange,” I responded with a similar overdosing charm, “I get the same sense from you.”

He laughed cheekily, and I could feel myself coming undone with the hot breath now fanning my face, made worse by the concept of the pair of us flirting. It could be brushed off as banter and teasing in any other setting. But here? We were seducing each other.

“Maybe you’re right. We have to tolerate the whispers already, why not get something out of it?”

His other hand now found its way towards my side and seized me into him. My chest was in direct contact with his and I could feel the rumble of his heartbeat over me.

“You sure you want to?” I asked, feeling a chill slither up my spine.

“It’s just me. What’s the worst that could happen?” he reassured. His lips were closer now that I could practically taste him - an inebriating burn of black coffee and wet grass.

My fingertips relaxed onto his knuckles as I found hold of several locks of his shaggy brown hair with my other hand. I was lost in the moment, forgetting the reality that I was stood in front of Sirius, someone I had considered my best friend. Granted, I clearly had feelings for him, but for him to feel the same? Surely, I was going mad and would soon find myself waking back up from this dream.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his breath skimming mine, “How you really feel.”

I had to be honest with him; admit to the secret even I had tried to convince myself of otherwise. He needed to know. Maybe he was waiting for me to admit my truth before he could admit his.

Either way, trapped here, for however many more minutes - there was no escape from it.

“I want this, Sirius.” I at long last confessed.

Suddenly his hand outlined my form until finding my face. His thumb pinched my cheek as his palm held my face up to align with his. This was it. The moment I had tried desperately to block out of my conscience – had fought so hard to dismiss.

“You want me to kiss you?” His voice was serious. I nodded against his grasp and leant in an inch; enchanted into total submission.

But just as my lip touched his, my knees gave in, feeling an imbalance below my feet and began to sink. I looked down but found I was perfectly still. Sirius was still as calm as he had been, but suddenly his eyes were hollow and clouded, as if he were no longer there.

I could feel myself disappearing from him, my soul sinking in my body, like melting chocolate inside a shelled candy. Without the roar in my throat, I could still hear myself scream, then in a blinding jolt of light, I was back at my seat in the room of requirement, where I had been before I had drawn Sirius’ card.

Coming to, I found Sirius kneeling on the floor ahead of me. He had a look of sincerity and concern.

“You dick.” I cursed, realising what he had done - that I hadn’t almost kissed Sirius, never had that conversation, never entered the closet, was never even given a card initially.

Shoving him away as he stared cautiously towards me, I got up from my seat and left with haste, bypassing the choir of wolf whistles as per our usual encounters.

“Y/n!” he called as I brushed past him. But this wasn’t a game to me. This wasn’t just a stupid prank.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sirius’ voice came from behind as he continued to follow me out of the room of requirement, all the while my whole body seized with shame and disgust.

“I don’t suppose I need to.” My voice was breaking through the forming tears, “You did a brilliant job finding out yourself. Legilimency Spell, how clever of you!”

“You don’t understand.”

I spun on my heel and, with gritted teeth, confronted him. As he made his way to me, surprisingly his nose was flared in a desperate concealment of a smirk.

“Find it funny, do you?” I scorned.

“Not at all.” He said serenely, locking his cedar eyes in mine and taking my hand while the other wiped away the still budding tears at my waterline.

“I need to show you something.” He snatched my hand and directed me hurriedly through all manner of corridors - some guarded by Prefects which meant our usual stealthy escapades, which seemed to alleviate some hostility I had towards him, until at long last we made it to a forbidden section of the grounds. Or more, an area we had yet to have ventured together.

“Where are we?” I snapped in hushed tones as we made way through the labyrinth of unfamiliar doors and unused classrooms.

“Shush,” he hissed, now weaving his fingers between mine to guide me further, “Filch will catch us.”

We made it to the end of the hall – which showcased a grand, towering oak door.

“Lupin and I found this place last week.” He informed, bringing out his wand to perform an unlocking spell.

“Outstanding.” I replied coldly, mostly from the embarrassment of his knowledge of my feelings towards him, “But what does that have to do with me?”

“You’ll see.” He opened the door and allowed me in. The stale neglected space was like any other disused classroom – chipped, richly detailed stone columns, smashed stained glass pains, cracked stone floor, and deteriorating, humming pipes overhead.

The only remaining furniture was a spectacle all unto its own. A royal gold mirror standing proudly in the centre of the room. The reflection seemed to showcase clouds of rust. On its head were three tiers, like a crown, with transcribable text just below.

“Is that why we’re here?” I pointed at the vintage accessory as Sirius play safely locked the door before approaching me slowly.

“When he and I left, Remus did a little research. It’s called the Mirror of Erised.”

I was still unsettled by his actions, so raised a brow at him to insinuate my disregard.

“According to Remus,” he continued on in exasperation of my reactions, “It shows you your deepest desires.”

My stomach lurched.

“So, you want me to stand in front of this, too? To prove what point exactly? You know how I feel. You can stop mocking me about it now -”

“- You don’t know how I feel, y/n.”

Sirius tucked his hands into his pockets, stretching his arms uncomfortably.

“We were toying around with it. Lupin… saw a full moon with him stood under it – as a human.” He gave a suggestive look. We both knew about Remus’ condition, and I crinkled my lips in pity.

“I, on the other hand,” he continued sadly, failing to look me in the eyes. Instead, cupping my hands in his once more, much like he did in my reverie.

“I saw you.” He turned to face his reflection in the mirror. His expression was profound as he acknowledged it, “I still see you.”

I flinched, and instinctively clasped onto Sirius’ wrists. My chest pulsed heavily in shock.

“Seeing your reflection next to mine, it made me realise something I’d always tried to ignore, because I never fully understood it. Until now.”

He paused, and I could now see the fight in the creases of his face, down to the twitch in his lips – he was trying to brave looking at me, admitting his own truth aloud to both himself and to me.

“I don’t want to be just friends with you, y/n. I don’t want rumours and gossip. I don’t want missed opportunities and wasted moments. And I’m sorry – really, I am – for tonight, for not telling you last week, for not telling you years ago. That you are my deepest desire.”

He finally found me and trapped me in his sights - confirming his place in my eyes with a solemn half grin.

“That’s why I charmed you. I was too much of a coward to tell you, too worried I’d ruin our friendship. I’d tried before to see how you felt – the rumour about the whomping willow. You didn’t react. So, when I heard about the game tonight, I took my opportunity to finally see if you felt the same.”

He took an adrenaline filled trembling breath.

“So, no charms, no spells, no Polyjuice potion. Just me and you. After everything. Do you still want this?”

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allegoryofthebeast · 3 years

Note

hey omg i love your excerpt in that web weaving post is it part of a larger piece? I'd love to read it if it is!! 💕💓💟💖❣️

Omg you’re so sweet yeah it is part of a larger piece! I’ll post it down below but I feel like I have to disclaim it is truly just a super angsty kinda long reflective essay that I wrote when I realized I was actually really sad about being dumped teehee. But you’re so sweet for your interest! (I hope I have appropriately lowered your expectations :) )

A Pirate Fairytale

He sent me more of his writing tonight because I always ask to read it, and I am desperately pouring over it trying to find a shred of myself, that he’s feeling as lonely and lost as I am, that he wants me back too – or – maybe that he does miss me, at all. Misses me the way I miss him. Misses me the way he lies awake at night, haunted by his new boyfriend and how he’ll never be as charming and interesting, free-spirited and attractive in an infatuating arrogant way as I am, but despite my warring desperation and my cliff diving hopes built on a bedrock of crumbling dirt, a thousand years could hardly be enough to dull my aspirations, though – there was only a single phrase.

I’ve moved on. It told me. He’s gone, really gone. And not in any way that matters, or maybe the only one, he’s still my friend, my friend who tells me about his new man and expects me to laugh when he’s funny and coo when he’s sweet, get mad with him when he’s exasperating. And I do, I love it. Because I love him.

Heartbreak came to me obliviously, and unwillingly. I spent months wondering why I wasn’t sad that we were ending things when his inevitable moving away came ever closer, until it was a week until, the next day, during – I gave him a CD of my favorite singer I can only imagine he didn’t listen too, which I understand – until it’s been five months and I finally understand the sinking feeling that’s been soaking me unconsciously yet steadily the whole time. I’m a drunken sailor locked in the brig for punching the caption in his smug face, a face I’ve only seen in blurry dating profiles and – I don’t know, I think he’s cute, I want to start dating again. I’m stuck and I’m drunk, again, only everyone’s gone and everything’s changing. Naturally. The ship is sinking. We’ve been hit by too many cannons this time and mermaids are gnawing on the rotting plywood and I could squeeze out my tiered hat and I could jimmy the lock or use my yellow nails to pry up the floorboards. I could leave if I wanted to. I could say something. I’m stuck in here, I could say. This is awful, I’m sorry I got drunk and I’m sorry I punched him, could one of you let me out, please? I won’t though. I hate doing that. I love the feeling of saltwater biting into my bloody cuticles and filling in through my ears, bouncing my brain on my spinal cord. I love it. I love him. I see that now, I really did.

For half my life I’ve been saying I’ve only been in love once, with a girl five years older than me but I realize with thoughts that only tend to come while floating that now I’ve loved twice. What an incredible thing, I think, to be in love twice. To have loved two beautiful people in almost no time at all. I’m young which makes me stupid, and I feel that now in the way I didn’t really kiss him before he left forever and moved on within the course of three months. I don’t really like kissing. We never had sex. I only kissed one of them, I wish I could’ve kissed the other one too, even if I wouldn’t have liked it, just so I would’ve known something. Something.

Something is very important while the water is getting dangerously close to my eyes, filling the brig like a pitcher. Even if he’s moved on and I haven't, something helps me think myself a little less pathetic. Something helps me think that at least I showed I cared somehow, I can only dream up the emotions he must’ve received when it took five whole months for them to reach me. My own body is like a secret, a list ranking the prettiest people in school that gets thrown in the trash bin before I can read it, before I know if they're written on there, if they leave behind a trail of broken hearts. If I'm on there. If they’d want me if I wasn’t.

I’m thinking I’m particularly jealous of the mermaids, as I glance at their graceful movements and gestures, eating the wood and my bloated rum-drenched dead fingers with beautiful smiles on their faces. I’m trying to rationalize to myself how I let this happen. How did I let myself get so drunk again? How did I let them leave me like that? Why didn’t I say something, I could’ve said something. They’re good people, they would’ve listened, I loved them you know. I can’t say with certainty if they loved me. I cannot deem myself as the kind of person people love. The description of my death should be palpable in this. They certainly liked me. I am very fun and very interesting when not floating dead in briny water, missing my fingers and ears to those beautiful sirens pulling apart the memories of the only vessel I’ve ever lived on. I cannot say if they think about me, floating and huge, practically decomposed after all these months, krill play in my molars like a playground. I cannot say they think of this ship, partially nothing, just the sails that the mermaids could not chew through, the weave irritating their canines. They’ve moved on. But I love this place. I’m going to stay until it’s gone entirely.

#my writing #thank you!! again this is super sweet plus.. I’m thinking about maybe posting more writing :)

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superfanficnatural · 4 years

Text

Fact, not Fiction

Well it’s been long enough and I’ve decided to just write this all out so everyone doesn’t have to read a series of reblogs and that they can have all the information in one place. Without further adieu *cracks knuckles* let’s get started.

So this entire story between Beka (Impala-dreamer) and Vanessa (flamencodiva) is being told one sided, so I’m here to tell the other side and yeah.

Vanessa had unfollowed Beka, not blocked, unfollowed because she didn’t appreciate the way that she did things and who she is as a person. Beka had messaged her asking why and the entire thing was born.

“I blocked you because you ruined my night, by writing me a 90 page essay on why I’m terrible and called me a Narcissist who only cares about people who kiss my ass.” Now, I want all of you to pay attention to how Beka so expertly framed her message to make her out to be the victim. Vanessa had unfollowed her, not publicly said anything, not messaged her anything because she wanted to keep from conflict and not make it a spectacle. Then, Beka makes a post that includes the above quotation making Vanessa out to be the villain. Beka had asked exactly why Vanessa unfollowed her and she told her why, she didn’t sugarcoat it because if she did, then that would be unfair to Beka. Beka then proceeds to post about it in order to make herself out to be the victim, once again claiming, “You are a very mean, heartless person, and you think the world revolves around you and it does not. Not everyone has to like you.” I had initially made a reblog of that very post including this quote and I had responded with -

“Please allow me to bring to light a situation that had occurred about a month or two ago. I don’t remember exactly what it was, but you had posted something that required follower interaction and after only a single hour, you had ran to the pond discord server and began complaining about how no one looks at your account and your followers don’t like you. From then on, you had gotten a lot of support from a lot of the writers in the pond. I did not want to say this because of privacy, but the fact that you have given zero privacy to Vanessa with this post, I’ve also decided to shed light on something as well.”

This was one of the many situations and events that Beka had complained about her followers. Unfortunately, I have nothing but my own word along with others that have been subjected to or have witnessed events like these. Constantly, I have found Beka complaining about how one of her fic’s flopped, how her followers don’t interact with her, and how she doesn’t like the drama from Tumblr. I think we can all agree with not liking the drama on Tumblr, but when you yourself are creating that drama, it makes it nothing less than hypocrisy. Throughout the entire post of Beka’s response she never explained anything and only told her side of the story - meaning that she is playing the victim. She expertly weaved her web of deceit and left things out on purpose to gain the support of the public so she can have all of the attention. Another thing both myself and MANY other people agree on is that Beka loves attention, constantly posting about things that make people feel bad and send her messages of encouragement even though the very things she’s complaining about, she has started. Allow me to provide some examples.

The fact that she included her almost getting into “two accidents” already makes everyone feel bad for her, getting roped into her web. The repetition of her saying that she’s the “bad guy” implants into everyone's head that she’s pleading. What else screams out “Guys come support me because everyone is making me out to be the bad guy.” Maybe you really are the bad guy, ever thought about that? The “she” that she is referring to is Vanessa and I don’t think I can find a single example of her “terrorism” ever. Oh do you mean when she “terrorizes” other writers by reblogging their stuff with encouraging messages? Is she “terrorizing” her friends when she tags them in a funny gif set? If so wow, she really does terrorize people, you’re right!

This really made me laugh out loud.

Let me start off by reminding all of you that Vanessa is also considered a “big blog” so you going after her for doing everything you have listed here is wrong, but when you do it, you’re allowed to complain about it? Let me also direct your attention over to the hashtag, “I’m out” The sheer amount of times I have witnessed Beka hashtag something with “I’m out” is abysmal. It’s another technique she uses to get people to message her going “oh no please don’t leave!” And what makes me know that for a fact is that every single time she says that she’s “out” I see her responding to asks from people sending encouraging messages. I’m really fed up about it and I just want to share it with all of you who might not be aware of all of these things so you don’t blindly follow and defend her. I used to follow her myself, but when I realized all of these things, I separated myself from that negativity and attention seeking.

The second I had made my initial reblog, Beka had blocked me even though I had said nothing negative and only shed light on something. That shows that she’s trying to cover it up so her image doesn’t get tarnaged. Does this not show how desperate she is to play victim? In this entire little post, she didn’t address a single thing that anyone had responded with and instead found more things to complain about, once again leaving things out to keep her status as the victim.

Now, some people might take what I’m about to say as insensitive but I’m really only stating the facts because I am not appeased by Beka’s self victimization.

#fine if you want me dead, ...who said that they wanted you dead? I apologize but I don’t remember a single person saying that. This is yet ANOTHER way she is trying to get people to go “Oh no! Don’t think like that! Don’t listen to the haters!” It really baffles me how good she is at playing the victim but also at how ridiculous her antics are.

Another thing I want to add in is a post that Beka had made however many months ago talking about how the “SPN Family” was becoming negative and toxic.

Now to be honest, I think that we can all agree with this at least somewhat and I was actually proud of Beka for writing and posting this. That is, until she made it ALL about herself again.

The second that post was posted, many people tried to spread positivity and love to a lot of others by tagging all of their friends and saying that they are grateful for them and that they love them. Beka then posted the picture above. That’s when I knew she really hadn’t changed at all. She’s proving herself that she just wanted attention in that post by saying “Beka who?” Meaning that she wanted everyone to go to either her DM’s, the comment section, or her asks to send words of encouragement as ALWAYS.

The reason this is so long is because if I simply claimed that Beka was an attention seeker, it wouldn’t make sense to have no evidence or even just a single piece of evidence. So I’ve provided many, and trust me, there are more.

This entire thing is simply to educate everyone who is either involved or is curious in the current situation, even though it seems like a diss, it’s really me just exposing Beka with facts, not fiction.

Since Beka deleted my reblog off of her page, I’ll just paste what I said here.

This entire situation really disheartens me.

Let me start off with the fact that Vanessa (flamencodiva) has DELETED her account because of this.

The fact that you came after her for wanting to be Tumblr famous is really wrong and allow me to explain why it is. Vanessa is a close friend of mine and I talk to her almost every single day. She is THE most selfless person I have ever met and is always trying to make others happy even if it makes her sad. She constantly reblogs everyone’s writing to encourage new and upcoming writers, and writers who have been around for a while to spread POSITIVITY. She has never once complained about notes, likes, or follows so I genuinely want to know why you felt the need to say she wants to be Tumblr famous. The only reason she went on anon for that message is because you blocked her so she had no other way of contacting you about why you had blocked her.

She had privately messaged you to keep this between the two of you but you decided to turn it public, which doesn’t make her the victim, it makes YOU the victim. Right now, everyone who have seen this post knows YOUR side of the story but not hers. Yes, she comes across aggressive, but that’s only if you give her a good reason because you had upset either her or one of her friends which she cherishes.

“You are a very mean, heartless person, and you think the world revolves around you and it does not. Not everyone has to like you”

Please allow me to bring to light a situation that had occurred about a month or two ago. I don’t remember exactly what it was, but you had posted something that required follower interaction and after only a single hour, you had ran to the pond discord server and began complaining about how no one looks at your account and your followers don’t like you. From then on, you had gotten a lot of support from a lot of the writers in the pond.

I did not want to say this because of privacy, but the fact that you have given zero privacy to Vanessa with this post, I’ve also decided to shed light on something as well.

Her deleting her account ABSOLUTELY discredits your argument of her wanting to be famous because now she has no account, no followers, no fics, nothing.

I’m not writing all of this to create more conflict, only to further educate a lot of the people reblogging this and supporting Beka and being extremely negative to Vanessa right now. I personally have unfollowed you for personal reasons but I have not blocked you because I do not deem it necessary and I do not encourage negativity. This post really just oozes negativity and self victimization so I had decided to throw in my ten cents. You can come after me for this or not it’s really up to you but I did not write this with the intent to attack or diss, only to educate. Have a nice day everyone ❤

#the low down

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see-arcane · 4 years

Text

Power Couple

Fresh out of the Corpse Routes, the happy couple receives another friendly visit.

Jon is less than welcoming.

Jon was entirely unsurprised when the door turned up after they were out of range of Terminus’ domain. He had actually begun counting steps in his head since they passed the Corpse Routes’ edge. One, two, three, four…

At step one hundred and sixty-eight, he heard the telltale wooden creak. This time from above.

They looked up to see Helen already opening the door, her legs curled like boneless wires over the frame so that she could untangle herself downwards. She hung like a child on monkey bars.

“Long time, no See.” She laid a massive hand to her heart. “Not even a hello for me?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah, hi,” Martin offered, politely enough.

“Helen.” Jon could not See the future. But he could still make an educated guess where this visit would go.

Helen rippled her edgeless form in what was supposed to be a shiver.

“Goodness, icy this time around, the both of you. Martin I can understand, considering the spot you’ve put him in.” Her face melted in facsimile of a sympathetic moue. “I know I’d hardly feel chummy in your shoes.”

“Wh—,” Martin got out before Helen shook her coiling head and clicked a tongue like a corkscrew. A yard-long finger raised as if to shush.

“No need to pretend, dear. Talk travels fast in our circles. And frankly, Jon, I am disappointed. Not only are you shirking the whole Archival Avenger business, but on a target like Terminus’ avatar? On dear, drearily dreamy Oliver Banks?” Her lashes batted into arabesque curls. “The man invited you to slay him outright if you so pleased—but, of course,” her shoulders shrugged into curved points, “you didn’t so please.”

“No. I didn’t.” Jon was counting again. He imagined a clock in his head, no numbers, no minutes, just a pendulum ticking. Tick-tock, tick-tock. “Martin and I have already discussed this, in case you wanted to try for some new material.”

“Oh, you’ve discussed this. Had a real good talk about how you were just too torn on your personal Grim Reaper who pulled a Prince Charming and coaxed you from your eldritch coma with a single visit to bother pulling the trigger?”

“Helen, seriously, I-I may have had,” Martin gestured frustratedly at nothing, “a bad moment, fine, but I know, logically he’s not—not ‘Jon’s’ anything.” He might have gone on gesturing if Jon hadn’t caught the flapping hand in his own. Fingers squeezed against each other. Helen’s whirlpool eyes flashed merrily.

“Is that a fact? Funny how that works. The Not-Them slew a handful of innocents, including one dear friend of yours. She mouths off about said friend once and zap! Smote into ashes by the Eye in the sky. Meanwhile, Mr. Banks killed off a whole boatload of hapless scientists and he gets a pass.”

“Helen.”

“But then, I suppose it is only fair. Jon’s gotten passes left and right from The End since he first got the Archivist title noose ‘round his neck. Haven’t you, Jon?”

“Helen.”

“Haven’t you? And hardly just from the Eye’s enhancements or the Web’s careful weaving. Certainly not from Jonah’s haphazard chaperoning.”

“Helen.”

“Oh, now you can’t say you haven’t thought about it. Haven’t considered giving it a Knowing backward glance into all those near-death experiences. How many were luck? How many were by design? How many were, say, a certain agent of The End still feeling a little twinge of,” Helen twirled her fluid hands around, two of the fingers turning to a long, twining braid, “…connection to the Archivist he had dreamt of and woken from death’s trance. Do you really think he wasn’t exercising just a smidgen of new power himself? Nudging a few tendrils in the direction of, say, Breekon? Trevor Herbert and Julia Montauk? Peter Lukas? Not killing them himself, of course, but directing a few black tendrils their way. Winding down their hazardous clocks on someone’s behalf…”

“Helen.”

“And you never failed to give The End a little tease back, eh? Always throwing yourself into danger, over and over, chasing monsters that chased you, putting your martyr neck on the chopping block ad infinitum.”

“Helen.”

“If one didn’t know better,” she cast a pseudo-melancholy glance toward Martin whose mouth had pressed into a hard line, “I’d call it flirting with death—,”

“Helen.”

“Yes, Jon?”

Jon Looked at her. Delusion incarnate, the Twisting Deceit. Knowing what the Spiral was doing to its victims through the lens of her was nauseating. Knowing the inner coils and jags of the Distortion’s mind was worse. He could pry deeper if he tried. Really Know it all.

But he had already Seen what he needed in her, fluttering behind the taffy-pulled grin and spinning eyes.

Cobwebs.

Whether it portended what he suspected or not, well. Rubbish as he was with proper ominous banter when not being the Archivist, he was nothing if not an uncanny mimic.

And so, Jon smiled. Grinned until every tooth flashed and his face creaked.

“How long have you been involved with Annabelle Cane?”

Helen’s coils froze mid-curl. Martin whirled his head around to gawk at him.

“What?” fell out of Martin’s mouth like a stone.

“What?” Helen laughed, razor hand to her mouth. “Is this another one of your Web conspiracies, Jon?”

Jon giggled right back, pitch perfect to her.

“No, no, nothing like that! I was just wondering, since we are talking relationship gossip, if you wouldn’t mind spilling how your recent couple’s activity is coming along. Because, see, I just can’t help but notice that you only seem to turn up when I have Martin beside me. For an avatar who loves playing up the cheap, try-hard teenage Too Crazy to Care persona, you seem to know better than to confront me all by my lonesome, when there’s no significant other there to act as your shield. You know, the same man who was too barred off by Lukas to catch on to exactly how much you screwed us over during that fun stint with the Panopticon.

“Because you’re just good old friendly Helen, aren’t you? Helen, who knows exactly what kind of End she’s earned—and is still earning—as your Spiral churns its victims up like insane slurry in a blender!” Jon chuckled again, all Eyes and teeth. “And isn’t it also so funny that, despite all Melanie’s rage and Basira’s suspicions and Daisy’s instincts and my Eyes, not one of us really bothered to look at you funny back in the Archives? Why, it’s almost like something was influencing us! Giving all of us a nice, chummy blind spot in our joint perception.

“How much was her work, Helen? Did you split it fifty-fifty? I Know that’s how you two are handling Martin.”

Martin’s eyes got very wide while the pupils got very small. He glanced from Jon to Helen and the effect doubled. Helen had twisted herself around like a snake unspooling from a branch, still smiling as she faced Jon. But there were no more smiles in her eyes.

“Jon, I get where you’re going with this. Really, I do. Shoe on the other foot, right? Perhaps I dented a few truths, corkscrewed a few realities, but I never outright lied. That was Michael’s preference, not mine. Frankly, I’m a little stung—,”

“Thought it was called a Spider bite.”

“If all you’re going to do is—,”

“Tell the truth?”

“You are not—,”

“Not what, Helen? Zeroing in on the one good thing left in the Archivist’s life, playing everyone’s bestie on one end while Annabelle lurks at a distance, somehow always ringing Martin up when I’m well out of earshot? You’re right. Surely it’s just a coincidence.”

“You’re seeing red strings where there aren’t, Jon. And who do you think that feeds?”

“In about ten seconds, no one at all. Because, you know what? We are owed another good smiting. More, I’d like to take a page from the Desolation’s playbook. Burn those red strings, the silk, the Spiraling door. All of it.”

Martin’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, his gaze now ping-ponging between Archivist and Distortion.

“Jon..?”

Helen, for her part, had gone starch-stiff in her coils.

“Well. If I’d known you’d be in this sort of mood, I would’ve—,”

“Picked a different topic to play back-biting fair-weather friend with? Something not focused on jabbing needles into our various insecurities, stirring the pot to prep the stage for Annabelle’s next chat? In fairness, I might have let it go if it was just another round of telling me how much I don’t deserve the man I love, or how I should get down to business and go on an avatar killing spree. But,” Jon tittered as Distortedly as could be managed, his breath sucked in over his teeth, “I very much draw the line at implying I would look at anyone other than Martin, you contemptible, traitorous, two-faced, parasitical, gaslighting piece of shit helix.”

Martin’s mouth fell open.

Helen’s ground shut. Even the standby grin had curdled to something cold and crumpled. Her fingers were drumming knives.

“Well. Tell us how you really feel, Jon.”

“If you come within an acre of us again, I won’t have to. The Eye will be happy to Show you. And, if Annabelle Cane tries to contact Martin, or me, or any combination thereof again, I will make sure I drive every second of every torture your Spiral is currently twisting through your victims straight down your throat. For starters.” Jon batted his lashes at her. “Do pass that on to her, won’t you, friend?”

“I’m telling you, I am not with Annabelle—,”

“Or we can skip it all and jump straight to the smiting.”

“J—,”

“They’ll see what the Watcher does to you from the furthest end of the Vast, Distortion.”

The door was gone almost before it slammed shut. What may have been minutes or hours passed. Martin, for once, went just as long without blinking as Jon.

“Um. Jon?”

“Yes, Martin?”

“What the hell.”

“What the hell, what?”

“I mean—I—was what you said true? About them—are the Spiral and the Web really working together?”

“I don’t know about the Fears themselves, but Helen and Annabelle are definitely together.”

“What? Like, like scheming together or together like us?”

Jon Looked into it and Knew what he’d suspected.

“Yes.”

Martin finally blinked.

“Oh. …And they were working on,” the words stopped up a moment, restarted, “o-on me?”

“Their appearances have been too complementary to be doing anything else. Helen shows up, needles me, and goads you. Annabelle rings you up only when I’m not around to potentially Know anything useful while she’s on the line, laying the same kind of tripwires I got wrapped in pre-Change.”

“That…” Martin’s brow furrowed. “That makes a bad amount of sense.”

“How do you mean?”

“There’s, um. Other stuff Annabelle brought up in that last call that I—I didn’t want to tell you, before. Looking back, I think she had an idea of my feelings concerning Oliver Banks and…” Martin ground his free hand against his eyes, now tomato red with what was either embarrassment or frustration. “God, damn it.”

“What are you talking about? What did she say?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me exactly what it was that Helen did to make you that pissed off before things went to hell in the Archives. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you snap like that at, hell, anyone. Not-Sasha got your whole grim-dark Archivist speech and Elias got a few glares, but that was something else. If she really was—is—bad enough to warrant that kind of telling-off, I’d also like to know why you’ve let her, you know—,”

“Play friend and ally?”

“Yeah.”

“You said it yourself. ‘Who else is there?’”

“Apparently not a good enough reason to keep her around. You clearly weren’t ever happy with her being in our space. Were you humoring me or—oh.” Martin looked at Jon who looked hot-faced at his boots. “Oh, no. You were, weren’t you? You were really going to just let her hang around indefinitely because of me?”

“I mean, y-you two got on well, so I figured—,”

“You were going to go on biting your tongue forever.”

“…Maybe.”

“Until now.”

“Until now.” Jon looked harder at his boots and dug one heel into the earth. “It’s one thing to have you be a little jealous—,”

“A little?” The question was almost a snort. Jon’s lips twitched up a fraction at the sound.

“—it’s another for the Distortion to try and actively poke holes in our relationship.”

“Ha. Yeah. Definitely a team-up with Annabelle, then. Helen hits you, she hits me.”

“Okay, seriously, what did she say to you?”

“Tell me about Helen first.”

Jon told him. Martin exploded. Jon asked about Annabelle. Martin told him. Jon exploded back. Together, they made mutual plans for vengeance to do with flat irons and pesticide. At some point, the talk turned a corner and Jon inquired as to what lovey-dovey antics Martin thought could possibly have gone on between himself and Oliver while he was in an actual coma.

“I don’t know,” Martin huffed, face steaming, “romantic avatar stuff.”

“Ooh, Mr. Banks,” Jon cooed in his worst soap opera falsetto, all eyelashes and swoons, “talk posthumous to me.”

Martin tried and failed to smother a laugh. In retaliation he swooned back, using his own worst Lothario tone and a truly atrocious saunter.

“Hello, Jon, I’m here to handsomely and mysteriously rescue you from your magical coma, while being handsome and mysterious.” He took both of Jon’s hands in his and attempted to pose his face in a magazine cover pout. “You’re so welcome.” They both cracked at that, laughing until they couldn’t breathe.

Far away, in a place of silk and silence, Annabelle Cane rolled all eight of her eyes as her tiny agents watched from their hiding places.

“Isn’t that so cute.” She sighed and frowned over a number of fraying strands in her Design. Her spinneret fingers plucked them away while going to work on damage control threads. “Also, very much not in the itinerary.”

Helen crossed and re-crossed her arms into knots. She leaned against her doorframe as the door itself rested heavily on the Web. One sharp finger twanged precariously against the nearest strand, twirling it like yarn.

“You were the one who suggested going the unfaithful route, as I recall. I just wanted to stick to the revenge killing, but nooo…”

“Probability was in our favor. But even a 99% chance of success leaves a gap for the unexpected. A gap which I assumed you could fill should the need arise.”

“Oh,” Helen sing-songed, twining deformed hearts in the silk, “don’t I always?”

“You don’t get to flirt, Distortion. Not right now.”

“Yes, ma’am, Miss Muffet. Shall I let myself out, then? Let you vent to your assorted puppets?”

“While you get to go off and pretend there isn’t a massive amount of ground to recover? No.”

“If you think I’m about to dangle myself in front of Jon and his doting Eye again—,”

“No, not in front of him. Martin. If the phone calls aren’t an option anymore, we’re going to have to alter our tactics with him. Cut straight to plan B: ambush and hostage. He’s still going to be taking his convenient strolls away from Jon while he gives his statements. Those threads are still intact. You just need to move quick with your door.”

“I can’t—,”

“Push him inside, yes, I know. But something else can. Another avatar, perhaps. Or a little surprise from one of my own; just enough to shock him backward, trip him over the threshold, and voila. Keep him in your corridors, and Jon can’t make a move on you or storm your proverbial castle; not without risking him. Failing that, you could always dump him in here. I’ve got a nice silk sleeping bag all ready for him. Either way, we—,”

A phone rang.

Helen stared at Annabelle who stared at the phone. It was a clunky thing, made just after the concept of voicemail became a reality.

“I thought you said your phone number didn’t exist.”

“It doesn’t.”

The phone continued to ring.

“It’s your home. I wouldn’t feel right answering it.”

“Of course not.”

Ring, ring, ring.

Annabelle ordered a puppet, a young man with cobwebs in his hollowed eye sockets, to lift the receiver and put it to his ear. His head nodded without the silken strings’ help.

“He wants to be put on speaker,” the young man said, spiders spilling over his lips.

“Don’t—,”

The young man’s mouth snapped wide open and stayed that way. A voice that wasn’t his fell out.

“Hello, ladies,” said Oliver Banks. “Sorry to interrupt you like this, but I felt it was a matter of professional courtesy. I couldn’t help but notice that your corpse routes have suddenly gotten much thicker and much shorter on my side of things. They were thinner than dental floss and stretched out for leagues just a little while ago. But now? Well. Whatever it is you’re planning—something to do with Jon and his boyfriend, I’m assuming? Some advice:

“Don’t try it. Your End is getting earlier and messier the longer I look at it. The Not-Them’s didn’t look half as unpleasant as these.

“Just thought you should know. Oh, and Annabelle? Sorry about the property damage.”

With that, Oliver Banks’ voice was gone. The eyeless young man and all the spiders that had been born from his throat were gone too; his cadaver hung pointless and cold in the silk.

“…So, I’m assuming there’s a redesign in order?”

Annabelle looked at her with eight eyes of burning coal. Helen hastily stuffed the corpse through her door and retreated down her hall.

“I’ll just go ahead and dump the trash, then.”

The door shut a moment before Annabelle had another puppet smash Oliver Banks’ phone to plastic shrapnel with their own skull. It almost made her feel better about ripping down a whole wall’s worth of Webbing and starting again from scratch.

And on a hill, under the Eye’s ceaseless Watch, a couple walked and talked and laughed.

Ao3 link

#I know I know #the inevitable gaslighting won't go down like this #it'd be over too quick #but I can dream (until Jonny Sims shoots me down)#anyway #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #helen distortion #annabelle cane #oliver banks #the magnus archives #storytime #mild spoilers #???

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nightashes · 4 years

Text

We’re Monster. Isn’t It Fun - Chapter 2

Previous - Masterlist - Next

A/N: So I decided to turn this into a mini series. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Spiders. Poisonous Plants. Slight unsympathetic Roman (pre-AA sdes).

Summary: Remus demands an apology. Things go downhill from there.

AO3

“The light sides are here” Virgil says as he cups a spider close to his ear, listening carefully. The little arachnid’s legs brush gently against his face in affection. “They’re in the meadow.”

Remus bubbles up from the lake, his tentacles splayed out around him as he watches his brother sitting on the shore, surrounded by his spidey brethren. The ones in the trees behind Virgil are weaving a web, creating a halo effect around the brooding dark side. “That’s still their territory, Vee Vee. Just ignore those dorks. Unless you were planning on giving them a scare!”

“We can’t leave the forest, Remus.” Virgil speaks softly as he watches the spider crawl from one hand to the next. The huntsman’s tan coloring making his skin seem paler by comparison.

“Didn’t stop them that one time.” Remus spits out a large spray of water. Watching his brother and the spiders on the shore hiss in agitation. Virgil’s fangs flash at the rancid octopus in the lake.

“Remus!! You know I don’t like water!” He hisses as darkness swarms around him in warning.

“Chill, bro bro. Hey, maybe we can lure them back in here. I found a new poisonous mushroom in the Death Cave! Won’t that be hilarious if we could trick them into eating it.”

“Oh so they can call us monsters again!”

“Ugh! Why do you even care! We are monsters, Vee!” The water rolls off of the foul side as he stands. His tentacles fading away to reveal his human limbs. He bounces over to his brother’s side. The spiders scurrying away to make room. Virgil looks up at his brother.

“I know we are, Ree. I just… The way they said it. It hurt.”

Remus purses his lips in thought. His eyes glinting with something dark and venomous. “Virgil.” He kneels in front of the shadowling. “Those morons wouldn’t know a poison from a venom. Let alone a monster from a villain.”

He takes his brothers hands in his own. “Vee Vee, what they said was wrong.”

Virgil pulls his hand back with a shrug. “I… We scared them. And apparently that hurt them. Maybe we are villains. It’s probably best if we just stay away from each other.”

“Well, that’s a load of bull. If you think we hurt them, then obvs. we should apologize!”

“What? Remus!” Virgil calls in shock as Remus stands from his crouching position. Remus ignores his cry. He stomps off through the woods, only slowing down long enough to shout over his shoulder. “C’mon slow poke. We got some groveling to do!”

Virgil scrambles after him. “Remus, are you crazy? It’s been like five years! They’re gonna think we’re insane.”

“I am INSANE!” Remus chuckles back unperturbed.

“But. But… Remus, we can’t just walk up to them out of nowhere!”

“Sure, we can! I always appear from out of nowhere!”

“Remus, But they’re in their territory! We can’t leave the forest. Unless you plan on yelling at them from the forest’s edge!”

“Nuh-uh. Apologies are done face-to-face. You taught me that! Remember when I ate your hemlock and Dee insisted I plant you a new one, But I couldn’t seem to make it grow right and you didn’t speak to me for a whole month. Not until I apologized face-to-face. And then you helped me plant an Audrey II that I had created!” Remus rambles on. He pauses as if a thought had just struck. Softly he continues. “You know that’s one of my favorite memories.” Remus sighs fondly as Virgil walks silently beside him. His eyes widening in awe as he stares up at his brother.

“Remus…” He whispers gently.

“Now, c’mon, Vee! You’re moving too slow.” Remus turns grabbing Virgil’s hand. “We’ve got an apology to say!” He says, picking up pace, pulling Virgil along as the two pre-teen sides travel through the forest.

Remus breaks out into song, a Rick Roll, completely unconcerned with Virgil’s mini crisis. The shadowling walking numbly beside him, trying to figure out how insane this is going to seem. The thoughts racing through his head, wishing for a way out. But Remus was determined. And it was impossible to get the Duke to change his mind once he was set on a course.

The forest edge appears. Virgil’s heart begins to race. A smile breaks out onto Remus’s face. The creative side not even slowing as they enter into the light sides territory. Leaving the shadows of the forest behind. Virgil flinches as the sun hits his face. Remus spots the light sides sitting on a picnic blanket across the meadow. The two light sides staring in shock. Their jaws wide open. Patton sitting beside Roman. An arm wrapped around his shoulders. And Roman. Roman sat there with red puffy eyes. Oh no… Something was wrong. This was not a good time.

Warning bells rang in Virgil’s head. Roman had been crying. They shouldn’t be here right now. Remus didn’t even seem to notice. He dropped Virgil’s hand, waving over to the light sides.

“Well, helloooooo, lighties!” He loudly proclaims. Striding across the meadow to meet them at their picnic.

“Ummm… Hi.” Patton speaks hesitantly.

“Lighties?” Roman questions, offended. “What are you two doing here? Did Dee tell you too. Come to rub it in?”

“Rub it in that I’m great at apologies? Sure! Virgil and I are sorry we scared you all those years ago. Who knew some people don’t like being scared? I thought it was pretty funny! But I guess it’s been bothering Vee Vee. So here.” Remus waves his hand through the air. And a small potted deadly nightshade appears in his hand. “For you. It’s super poisonous!” Remus shoves it towards them. A wide cheshire grin on his face.

“Oh.. That’s great. Um.. Thanks, Remus for this.”

Patton hesitantly takes the plant. Roman remains silent beside him. A thousand emotions crossing his face. None of which Virgil can read.

He shuffles forward to stand beside Remus. “Hey. We are sorry. And I know it’s been awhile but like it was crappy. And I felt bad for making Patton cry. So yeah...”

Patton smiles tentatively up at Virgil.

“Okay, now your turn, Roman. “ Remus announces proudly.

Patton stares at the dark sides. “His turn?”

“Uhhh. Yeah! We apologized. Now you have to say your sorry for hurting Vee Vee’s feelings. Where’s the adult one? He should say sorry too.”

Roman seems to snap out of his stupor at that. Standing up to face off with Remus. “We hurt his feelings. You guys mortified us! We were little kids!”

“Yeah. yeah. We already covered that.” Remus waves him off. “Now it’s your turn.”

“For what exactly!”

A dark expression crosses Remus’s face. Stepping onto the plaid blanket he stalks up to Roman until he is inches away. Noses almost touching. “You made him feel bad for being a monster. Apologize now or I’ll rip out your teeth and shove them up your nose.” He speaks quickly with a menace Virgil didn’t know he was capable of.

“I made him feel bad for being a monster? You do realize how that sounds?” Roman seems to be unable to control his voice as it warbles. His fist shaking. “I… I don’t care what Logan says. You are not my brother!” His voice raises in volume until he is shouting.

The dark sides stand their silent. Staring. Remus begins chuckling. Bending over as he clutches his sides. His laughter rising to histeria. “YOUR BROTHER? Oh that’s rich.” He giggles out. Wiping away a tear. “Obviously that’s a lie. And we would now.”

“Logan doesn’t lie.”

“He’s telling the truth. “ Patton speaks up. Setting aside the plant as he stands beside the two arguing sides. “Logan told us that he wasn’t our real Dad and that the only sides that are related in any way are you two.”

“Welp. He lied. Me and Vee our bros. And our Dad is Deceit and he’s awesome.” Remus shakes his head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh c’mon. You really think that Deceit is the honest one in this situation!”

“Listen, Remus, you’re creativity right.” Patton breaks in.

“You bet your kneecaps I am.’

“Well so is Roman. You are both Thomas’s creativity.”

Virgil stands this listening. Listening to the light sides claiming that his family isn’t his family. That his brother isn’t his brother. He grinds his teeth.

“NO! No no no! That’s wrong. This is wrong. Why? No! Why would Thomas have two creativities? That makes no sense.” He rambles venomously. His fangs flashing in the sunlight.

“Hey! Back off. We’re telling the truth.“ Roman bites back. “You think I want to be related to that.” He gestures to Remus. Remus who is staring daggers at Roman. But before he can follow through Virgil shoves at Roman.

“Don’t you dare.” He growls out. His voice low and dark. The darkness of the forest leaching into his words. As the smoke of fear pours out of his mouth. “You do not get to speak to him like that!” Roman stares in horror as the smoke reaches out for him. Whispering his deepest fears into his ears.

Patton shoves Roman away from the smoke. “Stop it! Stop fighting. We can all talk about this like civilized sides. Thomas does have two creativities. The creativity he sees as good and umm…” He trails off.

“The creativity he sees as bad?” Virgil finishes. His teeth bared.

“No. That’s umm.. It’s not like that.”

“Patton. Don’t lie. It’s exactly like that. We’re the light sides because we are good. And you.. You guys are dark sides. You hurt Thomas. You hold him back.”

“Roman!” Patton chastises.

Virgil growls. Full on lunging after Roman. His fingers reaching towards him. Tentacles wrap around Virgil, jerking him back. Pulling him away. Remus holds him tightly in a hug. Whispering into his ear.

“Virgil, calm down. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

“Let me go!!” He shouts, struggling against the sinewy muscle

"I love you, Vee. I don’t want you to regret scaring them. So this time I’m stopping you.”

Virgil relaxes in his grip. His breath heavy and his face wet with tears. The tentacles retracting back into arms as Remus lowers him to the ground. “You good, bro?”

Virgil says nothing.

“Vee Vee, you are my bro. No matter what anyone says.”

The shadowling looks up at the eldritch abomination. A watery smile on his face. Launching himself into his brother's arms, Virgil squeezes him tightly. “I love you, Ree.”

“Awww.” Patton coos behind them. Virgil flinches at the sound, withdrawing from the hug in embarrassment. Remus, however, grabs onto Virgil’s hand, refusing to be separated completely.

“You hurt Vee Vee five years ago. Apologize and we’ll leave.”

“Fine. We’re sorry. Now get out of our territory.” Roman’s voice is cold.

“I… I didn’t know we hurt you too. I’m sorry. I guess it was just a real bad first impression. But you two don’t have to leave. We can work this out.”

“Patton, they’re villains.”

“No. We should go. Dee will be wondering where we are. And we really aren’t supposed to be here. C’mon, Remus.” Virgil pulls his brother along.

“Well, come back sometime. We can talk.” Patton calls after their retreating backs.

Virgil scoffs. Not even turning. How could they work something out? They were just too different.

“Hey, Vee. Do you want to see Audrey II. She’s gotten really big.”

“Sure thing, bro.” At least, Virgil still had his brother.

taglist: @stop-it-anxiety @rainboots-are-for-snobs @hexatrash

#sanders sides #spiders tw #sander sides #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #remus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #My writing

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fortune-fool02 · 4 years

Text

A Good Person

Jean Pierre Polnareff x enemy female reader

Requested by: @ crumchybunchofleaves

Warnings: angst, fluff

Please enjoy.

Sharp tapping of footsteps shattered the silence that flooded the silver coloured corridor, the sound bouncing off the walls and travelling around the area. Lights glaring down, illuminating the corridor and casting away any shadow it could.

The Frenchman made his way down the empty corridor, his body still wrapped in bandages from the brutal battle against Dio only months ago. Thin specks of pain still scraped his muscles and wounds every now and again, reminding him of his close encounter with death. He expression was steeled, aware of the seriousness of the situation and proceeding through it.

It was his decision to do this, after all.

It had taken some string pulling from Mr Joestar to get the Speedwagon Foundation to allow this, and Polnareff was grateful for it. During his time back in France, this moment had lingered in his thoughts from the moment he woke up to the last second before he fell asleep. He needed it, whatever it was he was seeking, laid with her.

At the end of the corridor was a metal door with a number printed onto it, and two guards stood beside it. Polnareff pulled the personalised ID card -a gift from the Speedwagon Foundation, as requested by Mr Joestar- from his pocket and showed it to them. They nodded,

“Alright sir,” one of them spoke, “Before you go in there, there are some things we need to run by, procedure and all.” Polnareff nodded his head,

“Bien sûr.” He slipped the ID card back into his pocket.

“Whilst you’re in there, you’ll both be monitored. Both for your safety and hers, so don’t try anything funny in there.” Polnareff would never dream of the ideas they were referring to but he understood, especially since they knew of her connections to those who killed two of his friends. “You’re allowed ten minutes in there, then you’re out. You’re free to leave earlier if you want.” Once the guard finished, he turned to the door and opened it, allowing Polnareff to enter.

The door closed behind him with a pained thud, leaving him alone with her. There, at the table, was a hunched figure; head hanging low with [Hair colour] locks falling past her face, shielding her from him. Hands resting on the metal table, bound by handcuffs. Something pricked at Polnareff, somewhere in his chest, at the sight of her. Once, she stood tall and proud, now she sat crumbled, defeated.

“[Name].” he spoke her name. So many words had built up over the months, so many things he wanted to say to her, ask her, and now they had scattered out of his reach. She rose her head at him, [Eye colour] eyes locking with his pale blue ones; there was no spark in them anymore, no life behind them. Just two empty glass orbs reflecting him in them.

“Polnareff,” Even her voice sounded tired, lacking that sense of emotion in it. “What brings you to visit a lowly traitor like me?” There was a bitterness to her words, like sand in the desert they fought in only months ago, as she used his own words against him. If he looked close enough, he could see the edges of her own bandages sticking out from under her shirt, the faint fingerprints of bruise decorated her [Skin colour] skin. He almost didn’t recognise the woman who had stolen his heart sitting before him.

Defeated. That was the only word he could describe how she looked. Defeated, worn out and tired.

“I... I needed to talk to you.” he answered, trying to ignore the nipping in his chest again when she looked at him with those eyes. “I need to know somethings.” The chains that kept her bound to her chair and the table rattled lightly as she leaned back slightly, waiting for him to speak.

“Did we mean anything to you?” Was the first question that left his lips, though it was not the most important one for him. “Our entire journey through Egypt, half way around the world, did all of that mean nothing to you?”

They had met [Name] on their trip to Singapore, where she demonstrated her abilities of her own Stand to aid them in defeating Dark Blue Moon. At the time, they believed her to be an ally, the stories she spun weaved a perfect web of lies that they all fell for, unaware of the spider closing in on them. She never gave them any reason to believe that she was anything more than a young woman searching for her friend in Egypt.

As it turned out, that “friend” was the very bastard they were hunting down. [Name] had been Dio’s little pet from the very beginning, a wolf disguised as a sheep to infiltrate the herd and inform the pack Alpha of their progress and leading them astray if possible. Polnareff wanted to kick himself so hard when they discovered this.

“Some of it.” she spoke so bluntly, no sugar coating it and leaving him to face the sting of it. “There were parts that I did enjoy and others where I wanted nothing more than to push one of you lot off the nearest cliff.” Polnareff couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at her. A burning anger bubbling inside of him but he bit back his words, keeping himself in check. He didn’t come this far just to be dragged from the room and likely refused any more access to [Name] again.

“Don’t look at me like that, Polnareff. You, too, would bicker and argue with Kakyoin.” Polnareff hand curled into a fist at the mention of that name. [Name] noticed the slight shake to it. “I am truly sorry for what happened to him.” There were traces of genuine sympathy in her voice at that. During her time there, she had grown attached to all of the crusaders in some form of way; something she, herself, had come to both regret and cherish. Some she cherished more than others.

Taking a breath to calm himself, Polnareff rose his gaze to her again. “And what of me? Did what we have... mean anything to you?” That was what he wanted to know. That question was the sole reason why he was here in the first place.

Silence. Utter silence. [Name]’s head lowered again, shame washing over her. She had never felt this... humiliated and vulnerable before. Her lack of response only made the pain in Polnareff’s chest twist more, coiling up inside of him tightly to the point he felt like he could not breathe.

“Tell me, bon sang.” [Name] blinked at the steel in his voice, Polnareff never spoke to her with such anger; he always spoke to her sweetly. Her chest ached.

“Polnareff,” she rose her head up, gazing into his eyes. “The time I spent with you, everything we did together, was the best time of my entire life.” She answered. There was a softness to her voice that struck through the pain in Polnareff’s chest, picking away the aching scrapes that latched onto his heart. Her [Eye colour] orbs mirroring the softness, a glimmer of her former self -before she was exposed and thrown into this place- and the side of her that Polnareff saw. No masks, no lies or deception; her soul.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” she looked down again.

“Because... Dio would have killed you. If he found out that you had faltered my loyalty to him, he would not have spared you. I did it to protect you.” She knew it sounded pathetic and cliche. The whole ‘I didn’t tell you I’m a liar because I wanted to protect you’ sob story, no one believed that crap.

A light smile tugged Polnareff’s lips. He could see the regret that radiated off her body as she spoke, she was telling the truth. He knew he should hate her for being Dio’s servant but he couldn’t hate her. Not [Name]. Slowly, his hand reached across the table, resting over her smaller hand, earning a surprised look from her.

“[Name], you were willing to risk lying to Dio to protect me.” he spoke, a warmth in his voice. “I know that, somewhere inside of you, you have a pure heart, mon amour. And that is something you cannot change.”

Her eyes were wide, swirling with shock, at his words. After all the lies, all the deception and even when he drew his Stand on her, he still saw the purity in her. Even during the battle, she knew he was holding back. It was actually Jotaro who had caused her broken bones, and Polnareff was the one who stopped him from killing her.

He gave her that smile of his, his hand gently caressing her cheek. “I still love you, [Name]. And I can only hope you feel the same.” With that, he rose from his seat and turned towards the door. Her cheek cold, missing the warmth of his hand, and she reached out to him slightly.

“Polnareff,” her voice was quiet but he heard her. He stopped, his hand on the door ready to leave. “I love you.” He smiled at that, his heart swelling with that same softness he felt for her during their adventure.

Regardless of all she has done, Polnareff will always love her.

#polnareff #jean pierre polnareff #jojo bizarre adventure #polnareff x reader #jean pierre polnareff x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #stardust crusaders #stardust crusaders x reader #polnareff stardust crusaders #fluff #angst #female reader #reader insert

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eaglewind13 · 3 years

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It's not all fucking sunshine and rainbows, honey I should know. I swallowed them whole Past the white-stained teeth that totally aren't closed To lock in that extra something that you don't know about. Life's a clown-house, an ace of spades In the sleeve of a tailored suit And it's all so fucking funny that I can't help But laugh at the absurdity of little masked actors Scurrying like they have something to hide, Worlds to save, people to Love to go on, but I really can't Be bothered to list off the trivialities! My music's playing, a beat of mamba And reggae and something spicy. Polo! Isn't it nice to call out to an empty sea And out of all the fucking fish and sharks and gulls and He's part of me, of course, made of colors even I don't understand A rainbow of off-kilter, one-sided chitchat. Why doesn't the shrimp talk Like it matters what anyone else says, what I say Is the only thing you should worry about because god, I am! Bonafide face-shifting deal-making couches-into-mountains chaos god. Funny word, isn't it? Bonafide. Is it the right word to use? Who cares! I don't. I don't care, I can say anything and everyone will believe it Because I can make anything look like truth, honey Truth is anything, honey Truth is a game, honey, and boy Do I fucking know how to play my cards. I don't run out except when I need to But why would I? There's nothing to run from! I have so many ties that I can weave a hammock and lie Carefree in security, only it's not so secure, Is it? There's a thread loose that keeps tug tug tugging Its way free and I'm not above anymore Rainbows touch the ground topsy-turvy upside-down They're circles, you know, it comes full circle At the worst time, mortal to god to mortal But that's just peachy! I can make the best of it, I can't Fail me now, fruity mixed drinks with more mixed than fruity No fruity at all, that's just me, it's all oh fuck white teeth won't help When they're scattered on the loose stained floorboards. Life's a bitch and blaming me, Webs closing in and the spider's ready to chow down. I could smile away the dark and laugh 'til dawn's come, But dawn doesn't come for people like me. Can't seize what you can't touch and I can't be touched Except now I can? That doesn't make sense, but I can use this, twist it to my advantage until They realize that their words are only as binding as they want And when that time comes I have to be ready to run out Flash magic play the role of the wily villain The kind that gets knocked around put down left for dead alone Polo! You thought I was alone? That's cute. I'm not alone, I'm Standing at the shore waiting for a tide to come in And barrel into me, pushing me away From the knives and the money and the hurt oh shit Fucking damn it I've got to get it all back stupid water stupid Wasting my time flailing like a clown in the waves Heads up, tails down, the roll of a die and I'm out of control New mask new name same face hi there! You miss me? We're all going to shit in this mad-house and chaos reigns Sweeping the floor with my smug grin. What a twist! Come for the drama, stay for the show. "I forgive you," ha! What's that even supposed to mean? What's it mean? Don't say that, wave after wave comes in but they aren't washing it away I don't deserve forgiveness I don't deserve pity I deserve death And death won't come, they won't keep their word Fucking heroes holding it over my head that I was human. Stop calling me human, that means I can be reached And I don't want to be reached anymore, I belong Face-down on salty waters like the rainbow-sunshine-feigned-face Monster of a once-man I am. Why won't people leave me? Polo, There are more answers than just the one Marco More people are playing the game now, but it's not a game anymore The story keeps going and the circle keeps being a fucking circle There are colors and thoughts and hearts that beat Music from an island that won't ever be home again And your arms around me, and theirs, and another's Are like snakes squeezing something out of me I need to escape, to break free, but instead I break Light breaks apart into so many insane colors, More than I can see, more than I can be I'm not light. I'm not a wave. I'm not changing. I'm so small, a fucking shrimp Of a human wearing a blood-stained make-believe rainbow. -by @casual-necromancer

#merrick #eddie #my art #friend poem #digital painting #i've only been meaning to draw something for this poem for like....#5 years or so...#whoops #eagle does stuff #ttrpg

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aneilert · 5 years

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The One With Everything [MAG158: Panopticon]

This episode was delayed almost 20 hours, sending the whole early-access-community into a gradually deafening frenzy even before it launched. And then it took off for real.

The rest of the day has been a bit of a blur, to be honest, and if I’ve done anything not connected to relistening and speculating, then at least I can guarantee that neither my brain nor my heart was involved in it.

It’s hard to be eloquent when faced with this much content. I have raved elsewhere about the quality as well as the sheer quantity of content this episode can boast, but I’d like at least to post my List of Things We Had Expected, Hoped For and/or Dreaded and that happened, were confirmed or who returned in this episode:

1. Tim mention and grief

The fandom has never stopped grieving Tim Stoker, and every once in a while, someone will sigh about how they miss him and how much they wish his death would be at least mentioned on the show. Did he have no impact? Have they forgotten him? Well, canon has spoken: They have not.

2. Not!Sasha coming back

I can honestly say I never spent much time on the theories that muttered about how she had been enclosed in the tunnels and probably still was there. My bad. I will certainly never again forget the old rule that if someone (or something) doesn’t die on camera (as it were), they’re not dead. (And fuck were those amazing voice distortions!)

3. Leitner’s book coming back

Don’t forget where you put your evil book. It might not be there anymore when you come back for it a year or two later. (The blood on it, btw? Also Leitner. That bit was hilarious. I despise Peter, but he has brought some of the funniest lines this season; «In my defence, it’s still quite funny» is my personal favourite.)

4. Elias escaping prison

We didn’t think anything was keeping him there longer than he wanted to, and we were right; it was just a matter of timing. He would never want to come sneaking back if he could be making an Entrance.

5. Jonah!Elias

Probably the most popular fan theory (apart from those concerning various ships) is canon. And what a deliciously disturbing visual it is; Jonah Magnus’ eyeless body aging in the Panopticon while his eyes do what they have always done: watch over his Institute. Never has Elias sounded more smug and delighted with himself than in this episode, and you know what? Much as I hate him, I’d say he’s earned it.

6. Elias/Peter meeting

Trust fandoms to make feverish ships built out of characters who have never interacted in canon. And boy, do the LonelyEyes shippers feel vindicated today! Not only did the two horrible old men finally interact, but their dynamic was revealed to be exactly that of an old, dysfunctional and probably multiple times divorced couple. Even Jonny said so.

7. Martin having A Plan / having played Peter

We love Martin and worry about Martin, and we have been extremely worried about his latest signs of being fully on board (sic) with Peter’s nebulous plan. Is he that naïve? Is he that far gone? Or … is he playing Peter? Is he weaving his own little web, like in the previous season, when he managed to play Elias?

The truth, as so often, is a place in between. He has been playing Peter (and God was that an amazing reveal and a heart-rending speech! And Christ was Elias gleeful when he reminded Peter that he had been warned not to underestimate Martin, but that he still did it!), but he has also been joining the Lonely. There is something to be said for being able to keep distance, I guess. Even though it makes me heartsick.

8. Tape with Gertrude’s death and last confrontation with Elias

This is something I have been wanted for some time now. Gertrude is awesome and marvellous and badass and truly scary, and I have been wondering: did her hubris kill her? How did Elias take her down? What happened?

Well, now we know. Or … we know part of it. Gertrude’s body had three shots fired in it, but the tape only contained one. And the tape was numbered #0182509-A, hinting at possibly a B existing somewhere. Maybe we haven’t heard the last from Gertrude yet?

Also: How very satisfying it was to see that Gertrude had basically the same plan as Martin: Burn some Institute stuff to keep Elias from seeing the real threat! I love what this says about Elias’ complacency and underestimation when it comes to Martin (but I worry what yet another parallel with Gertrude might bode for his future …).

9. Peter taking Martin into the Lonely

The premise of a lot of fics. Can’t wait to see how it plays out in canon.

10. Hunters returning at an inopportune moment

We all, including Jon and the gang, knew they were out there and that it was just a matter of time. Still fun! (Particularly Trevor yelling JONNY BOY!)

11. Daisy going feral

Oh, this is hard; she wanted so much to be free of the Hunt. But honestly: this is why she was brought back, whether she (or Jon) knew it or not: To reconnect with her humanity, and then to give it up willingly to save her friends. And, why not, to have the savage joy of ripping out a few more throats while she’s at it.

Will Basira honour their promise? Well, that’s a tale for another day, as the story says. For now, let’s just enjoy the amazing sound distortion on Daisy’s breath, her voice and finally her growl. Daisy scared fucking Julia Montouk, and not many can boast that.

12. Jon and Elias talk

It’s been a long time coming. It was not at all what I had expected in any way, but it was amazing. And Jon hardly even noted what Elias was saying or how he gloated, because he was 100 % focused on …

13. Jon following Martin into the Lonely

Of course he did. Of course. He went into the Buried to get Daisy, and he didn’t even like Daisy, and she tried to kill him. Of course there’s no limit anymore to how much he will risk himself for a tiny sliver of hope that he might save Martin.

I worry so for them, though. Martin has refused Peter’s plans, true enough, but he has not refused the Lonely. He has been sliding into Forsaken for Jon’s sake, but he has still been sliding into Forsaken! And Jon’s journey into monsterdom is if anything even more worrying and harder to reverse.They have both been trying desperately and without any real clue as to how to save the world for each other’s sake, but what have they given up along the way?

Still. Jon clawed his way out of the Buried fuelled by Martin and by the signal from his rib. Who’s to say it might not work a second time?

Also: the one person we didn’t meet who I almost had expected, was Annabelle. Someone must have put this last tape on Jon’s desk – and someone must also, long ago, have given him that lighter that he never can focus on long enough to remember he has. Is there a silvery Web thread connected to it, where it lies in his pocket? Could he be able to follow that thread out again?

I have no idea. I also have no idea how I am supposed to wait for the next two episodes. Or how my head felt before this podcast ate my entire brain.

#the magnus archives #tma 158 #The Magnus Archives spoilers #panopticon #popular theories #text #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #Elias Bouchard #peter lukas #gertrude robinson #holy crap this show #have I mentioned lately that I love this show #«are you scared?» «yes.» «perfect»#only two episodes to go #oh fuck

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lokilover9 · 5 years

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The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter 2

“Why would Loki do this to me?” Astrid whined, twirling her wedding ring around her finger. A large, oval, emerald surrounded by tiny diamonds, set in gold.

She looked so forlorn, Stark actually felt for her. “Astrid, how many nights have you and Loki been apart since your courtship began?”

It took her a minute to recall. “Three.”

“And has there ever been a time you didn’t know his whereabouts?”

More tears streamed down her face. “No, but you don't understand."

"Try me."

"Is Vagina special to you?”

“Can't recall a time when it wasn't."

Astrid poked Peppers tit. "I meant this Vagina."

'Someone failed anatomy class.' "She's my favorite."

"And did you share your quim wedger all…" Astrid paused, spazily waving an arm. "...Willy nilly like, so bitches wrote filth about it?"

"I used it sparingly and no. Not to my knowledge."

"Sure you did, playboy billionaire." Pepper dryly remarked.

His foot twitched, knocking over the open vodka bottle. "Weren't we discussing Loki?"

Astrid started crying again. "Yes and I thought I was special to him, like he is to me."

{"I don't deserve you, my lovely."}

"Now after all this research, I don’t feel like I am anymore.”

{"You'll always be. Please don't cry?"}

Tony gave her some tissue. "I think you're wrong. When Thor told us of you, he mentioned how beautiful and..charming you are, but mostly of how happy you make his pain in the ass, brother."

Astrid's face lit up. "He said that?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

She gasped. "Why Cootyoodles? You can't die."

"Nooo, I don't actually want to."

"Good. Loki be sad."

"He would?"

She nodded. "When every human hated him, you were sometimes nice. That's why you're his favorite."

{"He's going to have a field day with this."}

"I'm his favorite human?"

"Mm hm."

{"No gloating, Cootyoodles. Darling, do stop twirling your ring? It's dizzying."}

"Astrid. Midgard has millions of talented writers with creative imaginations. Some perverted, some not. Many could've developed crushes after seeing Loki on social media and their stories pure fantasy. Maybe 'pure' isn't the right word, but don't fret over them. Think of his past lovers as…"

{"This better be good, Stark."}

"Fornication practice runs. "

{Loki cackled. "Interesting choice of words. Your Vagina looks impressed."}

While Pepper gave Tony the stink eye, Astrid pondered his perspective. "That explains why he's such a beast in bed." Her thoughts drifted to other pleasurable memories. "Ohhh and his magical tongue."

{"Sinful little appendage isn't it?"}

"Once he…"

Tony interrupted her. "We'll take your word for it. My point is, Loki loves 'you' now." He winked at Pepper. "You're who he wants to share forever with and nothing will ever change that."

{It's true.}

The sloshed Asgardian nearly knocked him off the bed with a clumsy hug. "Thanks Iron Cootyoodles." Then she leaned back with a strange look on her face. "I don't feel so good."

Pepper swiftly dodge her projectile, but Stark wasn't so lucky.

"Sorry!"

When Astrid ran to the ensuite, he slipped in her vomit and spilled vodka, landing on his ass. "That's it! Time to suit up and drop her in the Hudson. Better yet, doesn't your dad own a Woodchipper?"

Pepper smirked. "Shower and go back to bed. I'll deal with her." Eventually she joined him, assuming he was asleep.

"I've been thinking."

"Tell me tomorrow."

"Next time you 'are' pmsing, I'm going to call you bitchy vagina pants."

She whacked him hard with a pillow. "'Night."

Tony pulled a small feather from his mouth. 'Or not, but Butch is definitely a keeper.'

When Astrid fell asleep, Loki muted the connection to her ring, went to his parents chambers and demanded Frigga be woken.

"Is something wrong, darling? It's terribly late."

"Please Mother?"

One look from those saddened, emerald orbs and she caved. "I'll inform Heimdall. On one condition."

"Name it."

"Should the answer to my question reveal itself a lie, Astrid will learn the truth behind a certain piece of jewelry she owns."

"Oh? What's wrong with it?"

Frigga disappointedly sighed. "Your Father, the charlatan, tried the same trick with me. As a result, he paid interest to the spank bank for nearly a decade."

"Too much information, Mother."

"A plight we unfortunately share. These orgies you partook in on Midgard, did you wrap your Jonson before plunging it asunder?"

Loki froze. "What exactly did Astrid tell you?"

"Things too indecent to repeat."

'Stupendous. My Mother thinks me a gigolo.' "The answer is yes. Although I'm immune to their S.T.D.'s. Are you worried I may have impregnated someone?"

"Should I be?"

"I swear Mother, I took every precaution necessary."

"Good. Less chance of Astrid filleting your bullocks. I'll dress."

"Certainly." 'Thanks for reminding me of that possibility once sobriety kicks in.'

*****

Tony, having misplaced his car keys, returned to his bar and discovered Loki behind it, pouring a whiskey.

"There you are. Care to join me? Are you aware your ice bucket is missing."

Iron Cootyoodles wasn't impressed. "Haven't you heard of knocking?"

"On the elevator door? Next time I'll pause it first."

"Very funny. Are you ever going to reveal how you keep bypassing my security?"

The God smirked. "Perhaps one day, but rest assured it's by means undisclosable. Did you miss me?"

Tony almost said about as much as he'd miss a rabid porcupine, but remembered what Astrid said. "You're tolerable in small doses. Explain undisclosable."

"Has it concerned you that much?"

"Meh, I've only spent days on my system, trying to figure it out. The most expensive security application money can buy, which I've changed the access codes for time and again, yet here you are."

"Tony…"

"Were others to breach it that easily, the material losses would mean nothing compared to Peppers safety being compromised, classified information falling into the wrong hands and how our enemies would utilize it, but hey. Prank away, God of Mischief. Have you seen a set of keys?"

Loki's smirk faded as he vanished them from the bars lower surface. "No, I haven't."

"I'll seek my spare. I'd say make yourself at home, but you always do. Pepper took Astrid shopping. Later." Stark pushed the elevator button and nothing happened. "Are you fucking with this too?"

"For good reason."

"If it means I avoid the stairs, let's have it. We are on the sixtieth floor."

"Tony, my bypasses merely are but pranks. Through the many we pulled on each other, I saw an opportunity to make a friend. Forgive my ignorance in not realizing they would frighten you."

"Really, Loki? You never once considered that?"

"No, because neither Pepper, or the Tower, were ever in danger. Nor do I know any of your access codes. Magic gained me entrance and subsequently locked everything back in place."

"And the classified information?"

"I wouldn't know where to begin and haven't any desire to try."

"Oh. Maybe you're not such an asswipe after all."

"I'm trying. In the future, I promise never to come unannounced again. Sound good?"

"I'd appreciate that."

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