#tma michael x reader

[tma-reader-inserts]

Michael x fem spiral avatar reader

Once you went through the door, out of the twisting, static filled hallways, you collapsed and cried. Slowly and with great effort, you crawled from the door behind you as you sobbed, even as the tall figure leans halfway out and taunts you.

“Little thing…” it hisses. Not meanly, not aggravated, it hisses softly, almost lovingly if it could. “Won’t you, will you please reverse your way and twist back around?” a sharp, pointed finger of it’s trails down your back and you shudder. “The space within the walls would weep for your departure.”

With the last of your strength, you managed to launch yourself upwards and throw yourself through an already partially broken window.

You could almost hear a sigh of disappointment.

–

Sleep was a companion, a friend. You slept all the time, whenever you had time to spare. Your ground floor apartment looked more like a giant nest. It was a studio, everything in one room with the water closet door never closed (why would it be, you lived alone and never had guests). Since your escape, you clung to sleep like a drug to soothe your fears. The nightmares are incomprehensible anyway, and you hardly leave your dwelling for any reason at all save to get food and supplies. You worked from home, during the few hours you were awake, and the rest you slept.

You’ve taken to crawling out windows now, distrustful of doors and how your apartment suddenly had many more of them than they used to. Or at least you think it used to. Days blend together with the sleep. You rise not with the sun, not with the moon and stars, but to something you cannot see or know. You're exhausted when you are awake, half delirious and hungry and thirsty and something you cannot explain. Delirious and happy, giggling, mad, crying, yelling, barking laughter.

You wonder if you used to be like this, before the doors, before sleep took such a hold on you like how a lover holds you in your sleep.

You wonder if you’d sleep better with a lover, if there's something out there to love you and hold you, something heavy and warm and consuming. Something dazzling like a night light and confusing like the final thoughts before unconsciousness. Someone to wrap around you like a blanket and buzz like a sound machine to lull you into your nightmares and dreams.

You half wish you dreamed more. More of the thing from the hall, the closest thing to an ideal lover, holder, sleep partner. Sure you were scared in the halls, scared of the blond? Thing at first, how your eyes slid off of it’s features and how you couldn't focus on it at all. But then again, is that not what a dream is like? You dared anyone to accurately describe someone from a dream.

And it sees you when you sleep, you know. You hear the door creak occasionally as you drift off in your pull out bed nest, hear its static voice get muddled with you sound machine as it coos to you disturbing lullabies and sings praises of “what you will be.”

Your neighbor upstairs has been sleeping fitfully, you notice. He turns all night you hear while you're awake when it's dark out. Hear him mumble while the sound machine is off. Hear him gasp and yell occasionally.

Not a problem for you, though. You sleep just fine.

But then you don't. Then you don't sleep at all. It feels like days, or was it weeks? Days of cruel consciousness, night of horrid clarity. The doors disappear, the thing leaves.

You cannot sleep.

You miss the halls terribly now, while awake there, it felt like a dream, it felt unreal yet steady in an odd,comforting way to you. Like how in a dream everything makes sense even if it doesn't. That's what you miss.

You become desperate, nearly foaming at the mouth for the sweet, sweet, sweet fuzz of semi-consciousness. For the doors to take you back (how dare you leave), for the twisted thing to take you again.

You go to the closest wall to you and knock

#the magnus archives #tma #x reader #michael distortion

[reallyintoscience]

20 questions for fic writers!

tagged by @valeriianz like agggges ago <3

20 questions is looong so you get a cut

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

89

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

191,620

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I'm pretty monofannish outside of exchanges, so right now just Sandman TV. Previously The Magnus Archives, Fullmetal Alchemist and Lucifer TV. Otherwise, I write whatever I've been assigned in a fic exchange recently.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

And Feeding (TMA, pre-Jon/Martin, Gen, which ironically I do not ship), Scheherazade (TMA, Jon/Distortion!Michael, Explicit, which I very much do ship), shark smile blues (FMA, adult!Ed/Roy, Explicit), When in Rome (Lucifer, Chloe/Lucifer, Explicit), If Only Grant a Name (Sandman, Dreamling, Explicit)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

In bursts with vast swathes of time in between. The fic only exists to me when I've just finished writing it and I only remember again when I'm answering comments for another fic and start going through my inbox. Object permanence!! So yes, I do, but it might literally be a year. Or seconds. It depends. If you ask me a question, you'll activate my insatiable need to provide information and I'm much more likely to respond quickly.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't write angst, at least not since my very very first teen songfics. That's Bower, in which I killed Dorian from From Eroica With Love, a VampChron fic in which I killed Armand, and and X-Files fic in which I killed Alex, and they're no longer online. Oh, and I guess all the world for love is pretty angsty, but that's The Last Unicorn for you. Apparently the only mode of angst I have is mourning a dead lover.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think they're all happy, but not everyone agrees that turning into monsters or going off with them forever is a great ending so mileage may vary. Traditionally happy? In which many loose ends are gathered together, Howl/Sophie, bookverse Howl's Moving Castle, Gen. Or Pink Slip, Sandy/Rizzo, Grease, Gen.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not often at all in 25 years.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Hell yeah I do. All kinds, what are you looking for? Mostly m/m. In this house, though we love and respect those who do, we do not fade to black.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not often. I'm fond of the Star Trek TOS crew meeting the G1 Transformers in Meeting of Minds, but the craziest is probably young Jessica Fletcher from Murder, She Wrote encountering the world of The Neverending Story in The Next Part of Your Story. Which, I now recall, were for the same exchange recip who's open to crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, a couple of times.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I don't have the temperament for it.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Whoever I'm obsessing over at any given moment. But I've never fallen out of love with Kirk/Spock, Buffy/Spike or Tony/Loki.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I exist in a state of optimism where I fully believe I will finish the few Sandman WIPs I have going.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Matching the feel of the canon, porn, and bending canon to my will.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

God I hate dialogue. Also I can't plot to save my life, I'm one of those 'press play on the mind movie and transcribe, gasping in surprise constantly' sort of writers.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Avoid, unless my POV character also doesn't understand the language. My goal is that my reader understands the story, not perfect authenticity. I'm looking at you, Charlotte Bronte and Villette. It benefits no one to be flipping and clicking all over the place to find out what the characters are saying.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Vampire Chronicles

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Is Scheherazade (TMA, Jon/Distortion!Michael, explicit, so much blood kink). I'm really proud of It Came From Outer Space, which is my own little episode of Northern Exposure. And I'm also proud of City Of, which before If Only Grant a Name came and plonked its 20k+ into my life, was the longest thing I'd written. Sci-fi/horror, Stargate Atlantis, pre-McShep.

Tagging...look I bet you've all done this by now, this was going around so long ago and my brain is pudding. But! @ml-nolan, @beholdme, @beholdingthegaytimes, @beatnikfreakiswriting, @notallsandmen, @issylra, @chaosheadspace

#my writing #tag games

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Hello! I was looking through your blog and I encountered a Michael TMA / Reader Insert which was specifically labeled as gender neutral, but in the very first few sentences, the fic's version of Jonathan Sims genders the reader. He refers to the reader insert as 'Her' multiple times. The post is titled 'Michael Shelley x Gn!Reader'. I am confident it was unintentional, but as the story is specifically labeled 'gender neutral' I saw fit to draw it to your attention. I hope you are having a wonderful day or evening whenever you read this!

Thank you thank you thank you for pointing this out!!!! I didn’t even realize that I wrote that, but I really appreciate you reaching out. I’m glad I can fix that mistake even if I’m not super active anymore! I’m reading though it again and changing what I find!

❤️❤️❤️

[writing-for-the-gays]

Michael distortion x transmasc chubby reader fluff headcanons cuddling in bed

So excited for this. This was basically the only thing I could write w/ writers block rn

Kind of chaotic aesthetic bc it's what Michael would want

Michael the distortion x male transmasc reader cuddling hc's

Michael is a love bug tbh,craving affection from a s/o.

When they see your chubby they think its fucking amazing.

More??? Of you??? Perfection.

Lots of gentle touches, not sexually, but just so he can memorize your body.

They have a full playlist just for cuddling. Lot’s of hyperpop mixed with songs like cotton candy skies and walk around your mind.

If you have top surgery he’s memorized your chest, comparing the scars to his (you can pry transmasc he/they michael from my cold dead hands) he knows every small bump of your chest, if you’ve opted not to have your nipples grafted on he will just go full ham, he’ll try to trace everything, where your skin dips in where the skin had to be sewn together, they’ll do this even when your healing, being extra careful with your stitches. If you kept your nipples he will trace the scars around them.

If you just bind expect a lot of new gifts of binders that are bright and colorful, and when you're cuddling it's a no binder allowed zone. He encourages proper binding doing a hurt puppy dog look when you haven't been careful (it's more like a huge comedic frown and the swirls in his eyes spinning counterclockwise instead of clockwise, still makes you feel bad nonetheless)

If you’ve had a bad day, whether it be about dysphoria or your weight or people you are around being asshats, expect him to worship the hell out of you giving you compliments and feather light touches everywhere, saying how much he loves you, and your body.

Expect him to lend you clothes, because he is, well, the distortion and his clothes all fit you perfectly or a little too big because his clothes got all fucky as soon as he became the distortion.

His t-shirts or Hawaiian shirts became the new cuddle uniform. If you don't bind, your shirts are big enough to make you look flat chested.

The bed is always super long, because when they were using your bed their legs dangled off the end.

Some of your cuddle sessions happen in the hallways just because you’re not disturbed there, sometimes grabbing you from work or stuff you're doing and cuddling.

Time passes differently in the hallways, so you’ll be gone for max half a second.

No energy drinks before cuddling >:{.

God the way this thing will love your whole body is insane,takes the word love handles VERY seriously, grabbing onto any rolls you might have just to feel how squishy you are, careful not to squeeze to hard on them because he knows that there are parts of your body where the tissue and fat are denser and hurt when squeezed hard.

Big spoon 99.9% of the time. Loves holding you in his arms and just laying there.

Please please please let him kiss you. Like. Anywhere.

Short drabble

His laugh echoed, both figuratively and literally, through the room as you told another joke, tonight had been a great night, curled up in bed together. They looked at your rounded face, seeing the way your eyes shut a bit anytime you smiled, or laughed. Your round cheeks were so handsome.

As he traced the scars on your chest he realized there was no place he'd rather be.

Except maybe in the halls with you.

#tma headcanons #michael the distortion #michael tma #x male reader #x chubby reader #gay #trans #anon request #thank you anon!

[insectman]

I am literally BEGGING for someone to write an actually good Micheal Distortion x reader,, bc my little monster fucker heart has a deep need.

#the Magnus archives #TMA #michael distortion #Michael distortion x reader #please. I beg.

[namethatghostling]

thoughts on my inevitable self-insert magnus archives oc:

big freak

gay, obviously. also a big messy romantic

self-identified servant of the spiral in the post-archivocalypse world, not as like crucial/close with it as helen/michael but devout in a kind of jude perry esque way i think

was already kind of a weirdo with an infatuation for the unknown and wouldve been probably marked by one of the fears eventually anyway but when the world went all freaky they kind of had a Moment and ended up going full tilt into madness, a moment they liken to falling in love

doesnt know if they wanna **** helen as an act of worship to the entity they serve or just for funsies but they Wanna

stabbing/getting stabbed in a fun flirty sort of way is not off the table

occasionally benevolent in, ya know, typical spiral fashion. the line between help and hurt is a little too thin and wobbly in their mind for them to really be trusted

#spiralsona #look i need something to do during this hiatus #ive already seen the michael x reader content you cant judge me for this #tma

[smellingofpoetry]

Of secrets and sacrifices

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: "Dean remembered how calm it made him feel watching over her during his restless nights. Now, though, it was so painful. Everything he could see when he looked at her was blood."

Square/s Filled: Quote F: "Don't look me like that." "Like what?" "Like you still love me." (TMAS Bingo - @supernatural-jackles)

Warnings: angst, so much angst, some fluff too, implied smut

Words count: 2611

A/N: Hi there! It has been quite some time since the last time I posted a new story. This last month has been crazy, and I don't have much time anymore. I just hope to be able to write and post more often. Now, that being said, I've written this story for the challenges of two lovely people: @libre1rose8 and @roonyxx. For @libre1rose8 the prompts were: "Dean's green Hanley", "I have a secret to tell you" and "into the woods". For @roonyxx I had: "I have always been alone". You'll find the prompt in bold. Girls, I'm so terribly sorry for the delay, I just hope you're gonna like what I came up with. Before I leave you to the story, I wanted to thank the sweet @snowlovespie. Thank you so much for the love, support, and help with this one-shot, I appreciated it more than I can say.🖤 Let me know what you guys think. ;)

Dean Winchester Masterlist - Masterlist

It has been months since the last time they shared a room. Since then, many things had changed, while others had seemed to remain the same.

She still slept with his green Hanley.

He still spent his night looking at her.

Dean remembered how calm it made him feel watching over her during his restless nights. Now, though, it was so painful. Everything he could see when he looked at her was blood.

Blood was on his hands while he was cutting through the soft skin of her abdomen. Her screams still resonated in his ears.

He could already feel the panic starting to creep on him at that memory.

No, wait.

That wasn't…

… that didn't happen.

Did it?

Then why could he still feel her warm blood between his damn fingers?

Dean sat up fast, feeling the air getting shorter with each breath. The cold under his feet was the only thing able to, somehow, ground him, while his hand wouldn't stop trembling. Those images, still stuck in the back of his head, were ready to torture him.

He scratched at his stubbled cheek, dragging his fingers to his eyes and rubbing them. He shouldn't have taken this hunt. He knew something was up the moment Sam had told him about the hunt, insisting for Dean to go help some random hunter asking for backup. He should have known it was about her. To be honest, though, it wasn't Sam's fault, not entirely. Dean was to blame too because he should have left as soon as his suspicions were confirmed. At the end of the day, though, he was a weak mean.

So, here he was in the middle of the night, in a cabin in the woods. So far away from home, trying to deal with something that he thought had been already dealt with.

Dean had never been so wrong in his whole life.

He realized it as soon as he saw her in the empty parking lot, leaning against her green olive car months after Michael. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and the mere sight of her was enough to overwhelm him with a new wave of pain.

He sighed, glancing at the woman sleeping in the bed next to him. Y/N – the woman he had loved once.

No.

Wrong.

The woman he still loved.

The same woman Michael was threatening him with. The one Dean had tortured to death over and over again. And it didn't matter if that was only a simple mind game to keep him in line. It had felt real to him.

She was the one he had to push away, and, damn, if that hadn't hurt.

"Another nightmare?"

Dean froze at the sound of her voice. He could hear her shuffling between the sheets but kept his back to her.

"Something like that."

He cleared his throat, glancing over his shoulder, trying to follow her every move. Dean watched as she adjusted against the headboard, patting the free space next to her. He turned a bit more in her direction while deciding if moving closer as she asked him to was a good idea. Dean shifted his gaze from her to the space between them a couple of times. He knew it was a bad idea when he felt his body move of its accord, taking the seat next to her. Dean leaned against the headboard, arms crossed over his chest. He left as much space between them as possible, too worried about what would happen if he got too close to her. Instead, Y/N had to bite her lip to hold back a smile as she remembered herself to keep her hopes low.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No, not really."

Y/N nodded, not that surprised by his response. She sank more into the pillow behind her back, crossing her ankles. Her hands tucked under her legs to warm them up. She let the silent washed over them. She stole a glance in his direction from time to time until she found the courage to speak again.

"I've been missing this… you."

She could feel the warmth surging from her neck to her cheeks as soon as her words were out. Dean swallowed hard - eyes squeezed shut, and head turned - trying to keep his emotion in check. She dared to glance his way when it was clear that no response would come from him. Her heart quickened its pace.

"I hope you've missed me sometimes too."

Dean got up from the bed at that, a painful smile on his lips, rubbing at his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He kept his back to her, trying to come up with something to say. It seemed like his brain wasn't cooperating because, of course, he had missed her. He had missed her more than he should have. He had missed her more than it was possible.

He missed her like air, and he didn't give a crap if it was too cheesy.

"I didn't, and you shouldn't have either."

And, of course, he had to go and say the worst possible thing because going back now wasn't an option. Little did it matter if his heart was cracking, words afterwords. One more scar and he wouldn't have survived all that pain. He could feel it in his bones, and turning to face her, sitting in the middle of the bed, with her eyes on him, didn't help. It just made things worse.

"Don't look me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you still love me."

"But I do. Nothing can change that."

Dean licked his lips, biting them right back. Head down, he rested his hands on his hips, already regretting what he was about to say.

"Me cheating on you should have had."

He was being a dick. Dean was well aware of that, but that was the only defense he had left to protect her. Y/N nodded her head, looking down at her hands. She trailed the movements of her fingers playing with the hem of her – his – green shirt. All it took was a glimpse at her sad smile for the guilt to come back in full force. She faced him again a few moments later, and Dean braced himself for what was coming next. He knew very well he deserved whatever she was throwing at him.

"I have a secret to tell you."

He frowned in confusion because it wasn't quite what he had expected. He didn't even know what it was. So, he kept silent for once, giving her a chance to say something more, to make him understand.

"I know you didn't cheat on me."

Her voice was a whisper, and Dean could have sworn he'd heard her wrong if it wasn't for the look in her eyes. He was ready to deny it when a simple gesture of her hand stopped him.

"I knew you were lying, and I let you."

He didn't know if it was that small revelation or her watering eyes, but the fight inside him started to fade away. He walked towards the bed, seating on the edge; his mind going a mile a minute trying to elaborate on what Y/N had told him.

She knew all along.

Dean had thought it was a smart move. He thought that lying and hurting her that way would be enough to make sure she would leave the bunker – him – behind. It was the only way to protect her from Michael – from himself.

"Why?"

"To give you a better chance at fighting Michael."

Dean turned around, searching for Y/N's eyes, founding her closer than he thought. One more movement and he could have touched her and, damn, if he wanted to.

"You had a nightmare the first night you were back. You were saying things… you were begging someone to stop, and then you said my name. Since then, you pulled away from me. So, I started to have more and more suspicion even though I didn't say anything about it."

Dean never looked away from her, not once. Not even to blink.

"He was keeping you in line by threatening me, wasn't it?"

He didn't even need to nod for her to know it was the truth. She had known since that night but had kept quiet because too scared, even more than she would have liked to admit. She had been holding on until she couldn't take it anymore.

"That night, the night you said those things to me... I figured it all out, and I thought with me out of the picture, you'd have a better chance of beating him. Giving you an advantage by letting him think you hurt me so bad that I was going to leave and never come back, then…"

She could feel her cheeks getting wetter and wetter while she got rid of the tears with the back of her hand.

"And I was kinda right until I wasn't anymore, and you decided to go suicidal with that damn Ma'lak box."

"How do you know about that?"

"I was there every step of the way, even if you couldn't see me. Do you think I could ever give up on you?"

Y/N tilted her head to one side, trying to study him up as best she could. Dean blinked a few times at her question.

Did he think she could give up on him?

Dean wouldn't blame her if she did it. He knew that being with him came at a cost, and he would have never asked her to pay the price, not for him. He wasn't worth the trouble; at least that was what he thought.

"Sam kept me updated among hunts. I've helped your mom with a couple of hunts. I was at her house when you got there."

Dean narrowed his eyes, remembering what happened when sleeping on his mother's couch. An amused smile appeared on his face.

"So, it was your shirt, the one I found."

Y/N nibbled at her lower lip, a small smile confirming his suspicions. She got closer to him. Their hands almost touched until she felt one of his fingers brushing her warm skin.

"You told my mom to call Sam."

"No, it was me. I called Sam."

"What? No, Sam said…"

"…that your mom was worried, which was true, but I was the one who called him. I did it the moment I found the box."

"You were still there?"

"I wanted to be sure everything was okay before leaving."

"All right, you got me!"

As much as he tried, Dean couldn't keep the pride out of his voice. His girl got him back just right. He should have been mad because his plan backfired. Yet, he couldn't deny that he was so damn impressed and quite turned on if he had to be honest. Y/N lowered her eyes, feeling redness rise on her already warm cheeks under Dean's gaze.

"I'm blaming Michael for that. In no other circumstance, I would've been able to pull it off."

Dean raised his hand, capturing a stray lock of her hair between his fingers. He turned the strand around his index a few times before bringing it behind her ear. Y/N lifted her gaze, meeting his green eyes halfway. The smile on his face caught her off guard. So, she took a few more seconds studying him until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Say something, please."

"You're becoming one hell of a hunter."

She felt his hands on her middle, guiding her to sit on his lap. She had to fight hard to stop the grin that was trying to slip past her lips. Once he had her in his arms, he took his time to look at her. Dean traced every line of her features, realizing at that very moment how much he had missed her.

"All this time, I thought I was protecting you while you were the one protecting me."

"Are you mad?"

"I wish you wouldn't have put yourself in danger because of me? Hell yes, but no, I'm not angry."

Y/N could feel her heart quickening its pace in her chest as a shy little smile showed up on her rose lips. She let her hands wander along his arms, stopping as they reached his shoulders. She touched the collar of his shirt with her fingertips, playing with the soft fabric. Dean stared at her mesmerized, shivering at the feeling of her nails scratching his skin.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything? I shouldn't have…"

Dean turned away, shaking his head. He felt disappointed with himself for not being able to find the right words to apologize to her. Y/N cupped his face in her slender hands, caressing his stubbled cheeks with her thumbs.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Y/N."

She let go of his face, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning her forehead against his, a small smile on her lips.

"Michael was the one trying to hurt me – us – not you."

"But I've let him."

"That's not possible, and you know why?"

Dean shook his head, tightening the hold around her center, pulling her even closer. She let her finger trail through his hair, massaging his scalp.

"Because of that look in your eyes whenever you're willing to sacrifice yourself for someone you love. I still remember the first time I saw it; I was so jealous at how damn lucky Sam was to have you as his keeper. I'm not proud to admit it, but seeing that kind of love…"

Y/N swallowed hard, struggling to hold back the tears that were threatening to roll down from her already red and puffy eyes.

"The night you said those things to me, you had that same look in your eyes, I saw it, and it was from me then, only me. You were looking at me that way, and it just broke my heart because I knew what that meant, and I couldn't let that happen. I have always been alone, you know, so knowing I was going to be once again shouldn't have scared me that much, but it did. It did because Michael had been trying to take away that one person who has ever cared about me, and I couldn't let him."

She closed her eyes, feeling the tears warming her cheeks. Dean cupped her cheeks with his hands, wiping her tear-stained skin with his thumb. Y/N leaned into his palm. Her eyes fluttered open when his lips found their way to her forehead. They traveled down her temple, leaving a trail of soft kisses.

"You wouldn't have believed me no matter what I'd said, did you?"

Y/N shook her head, a teary smile on her face. She leaned forward, searching for his mouth. She brushed her lips against his warm ones, as Dean stood still, watching her every move.

One glance later, she was kissing him, and it was like being alive again.

It was like every single fiber of his being was on fire. He had experimented with that kind of feeling before. This one, though, was something quite different and sweeter. He was willing to be consumed by her kisses, and that's what he did.

In that shared bed, with trembling fingers and short breaths, they found their way back together. And it wasn't until they were lying in the rumpled sheets that she dared ask him.

"Dean?"

"Uhm?"

"Is it okay for me to come back home now?"

Dean smiled, pulling her closer to his chest before kissing the crown of her head.

"You never really left."

Forevers Tags:

@440mxs-wife @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @morganaah

Supernatural Tags:

@flamencodiva @hobby27 @keep-beating-my-dear-heart @leigh70 @littlewhiterose @pastelpeaxch @snowlovespie @stixnstripesworld

Dean/Jensen Tags:

@akshi8278 @awkward-and-indecisive @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @siospins2 @stitchintimefan @universallyraylangivens @waynes-multiverse @woodworthti666 @sexyvixen7

#libre1rose8goes300 #roonyxxs2Kcelebration #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #michael!dean #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #secrets #sacrifices

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

The Proposal

Pic found on Google | Dividers from @firefly-graphics

Summary: After some difficult time in your relationship with Dean, the British Men of Letters send the two of you on a case in Italy. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Squares: December for @winchesterandbeyondbingo // Venice, Italy for @anyfandomfluffbingo // Fluff for @j3bingo // Date Night for @spnfluffbingo // Dean Winchester for @supernatural-jackles TMAS // Warnings: fluff, marriage proposal, best friends to lovers, established relationship, break-up, reconciliation Word Count: 2.2k

The day Sam, Dean, and you found the bunker, you told Dean you wanted to search for other members of the “Men of Letters” around the world. You wanted to see if there were other people like you hunting monsters too.

Some months later, two people showed up at the bunker’s door stating that they were from the British Men of Letters, “Michael “Mick” Davies and Arthur Ketch” they introduced and you got excited. If they had found you there, you were sure there were other organizations in other parts of the world. You made this research a personal task to find more members.

The search was unsuccessful and you failed in your task, the cases started to increase thanks to Mick and Ketch. Having to deal with them on a daily basis was exhausting.

Over the following weeks, you’ve hunted a lot of monsters, driving non-stop, going from one state to another without a full night of sleep.

With your birthday a few weeks away, Dean and you decided to do a little road trip to celebrate it and to spend some quality time just the both of you. It was something you wanted to do for the past year since you’ve started your relationship.

To be honest, you should’ve seen this coming. Since the British Men of Letters appeared in your life, they made chaos. The three of you were always in a bad mood, mostly because of the lack of sleep, the worst part of this was that your relationship with Dean was worsening. That was one of the reasons why you were really eager to go on this road trip with Dean, it was something both of you really needed.

Instead, Ketch had other plans for that week. He decided to send Sam and Dean on a hunt, it was supposed to last just two days, and Dean was going to be back right in time for the trip.

You should’ve learned by now to not trust Ketch and his white lies. What was supposed to be a two days hunt became a week, making Dean miss your birthday and screw up all your plans. You could see in Ketch’s face how much he was enjoying your bad mood. You were ready to kill him with your bare hands.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” Dean said when he entered the bunker, “ I’m going to compensate you. I promise” Dean promised, knowing he just ruined something you’ve planned for so long, but he wasn’t the one who needed to compensate you, but you just knew Ketch was not gonna move a finger for what he just ruined.

You hugged Dean and pecked his lips, “I’m just glad you’re here with me. Both of you” you admitted hugging Sam “but if he ever shows up, I’m gonna kill him,” you whispered so only Sam and Dean could hear you. “Not gonna stop you” Sam added with a smile.

The whole Ketch and British Men Of Letters brought a lot of disagreements between you and the Winchester brothers, to the point of dissolving your relationship with Dean, having to take some time off from each other. It broke your heart to make this decision, but it was the best before hurting more feelings because of them. You decided to leave the bunker and book a room in a crappy motel until everyone could figure out what was going on.

The time off between Dean and you only lasted two days. The love you had for the other was a lot stronger than just a simple man who wanted to take control over you and your little family.

Even though you and Dean got back together, you decided that it was best to stay apart at least until Ketch, Mick, and the rest of the Men of Letters were gone.

While being apart from Dean, both of you learned what was needed from the other, and to communicate them to the other. This time, the relationship grew stronger, you were able to communicate and let the feelings be part of the relationship. In a way, this brought you two a lot closer than you already were.

It was mid-December when Dean asked you to move in with Sam and him to the bunker again. Both claimed to miss you and your energy there. You couldn’t refuse this offer, you missed them a lot, “Ok,” you accepted gladly, “but with one condition,” you said.

Dean sighed and nodded, “I’ll move in with you, but not permanently. At least, not for now” you explained and Dean agreed. He couldn’t force you to do it, it was your decision after all.

Since you've moved out from the bunker and spending for a few months in a motel, you had rented a small room in an apartment building near the bunker, it was perfect for the time being.

You were packing some of your stuff that you were planning to move back to the bunker when you got a call from Dean, “Hi baby,” you answered, “what happened?” you asked kinda worried, “do you have your passport up to date?” he asked; you got confused, why would he ask you that?

“Yeah, why?” you answered not understanding much where he was going with all these questions. “Mitch called, they want us to take a case in Italy,” he explained and you couldn’t believe it, “You kidding, right?”

Dean chuckled, “Nope sweetheart, it sounds serious” You were very confused as to why Mitch had asked you two to check on a case in Italy? And why did Dean accept it? He hated flying. This probably was something serious they couldn’t handle on their own.

“Let me pack some stuff and I’ll meet you at the bunker” You heard some shuffling in the back, probably they were finishing packing, then Dean asked, “You have everything in there?”

“I guess so,” you said checking your surroundings, “I’ll pick you up in ten minutes and I’ll explain everything on the road,” Dean said and hung up.

Twenty minutes later, Dean and you were heading to the airport, two first-class tickets to Italy in hand and a million questions without an answer.

While on the road, Dean explained to you that an auction party was being held in a very important hotel and one of the most important pieces they were auctioning was from God’s creation and the Men of Letters wanted to recover it. The thing is that Mitch and all their minions were well known and they weren’t allowed to participate, so they needed unknown people.

“So that’s why they need us,” you said and Dean nodded. That’s where Dean and you fit in the picture.

Mitch called you before boarding and said that your room was already booked at the hotel, he also mentioned that there were outfits ready for both of you to wear at the auction and that one of the British Men of Letter’s drivers was there for you during your stay.

The flight was quiet and comfortable, while Dean hummed “Nothing Else Matters” non-stop, you did some old-fashioned research on the item you needed to recover.

Twelve hours later, finally, both of you arrived in Italy and as Mitch promised, there was a car waiting for the two of you.

To you, the trip to the hotel was marvelous, it was almost impossible for you to be able to see everything. You were in love with the place. Unfortunately, you were there for a job and not for vacation, so you needed to keep yourself focused.

“I miss my baby,” said Dean with a pout, “I know, I miss her too, but at least I have mine with me,” you said and pecked his lips making him smile.

Once in the hotel, you were taken to your room, it was the honeymoon suite. The room was twice the size of your apartment. It was enormous.

“As you can see, the room is for newlyweds, so you’ll have to portray as a married couple at the auction. I hope that’s not a problem” Mitch said through the phone “I expected you to do your work well. This is a big item. I’ll keep in touch with you two” he finished and hung up.

You set up your workplace and started to do some research on the auction, the people who were going to attend, and the items they were selling.

“Apparently, we will have to do another trip. The auction is in Venice” Dean mentioned with an envelope in his hands. Your eyes lighted up. Venice was your place on earth, the canals, the gondolas, the bridge, the structure, the history. It was your favorite place and you’ve always wanted to visit it.

The following day, you and Dean got full room service, “we ain’t paying it, so bring the pie” Dean said excitedly.

After breakfast, a maid came with two bags, one contained Dean’s suite and the other, your dress. The trip to Venice wasn’t short, so you wanted to get ready early so you could do a little sightseeing around the place where the auction was held.

Dean wore a blue suit with a white shirt and you wore a short laced black dress with simple sandals. Nothing too fancy but not too simple either.

The drive to the hotel lasted at least an hour, you were grateful for leaving early. You had at least an hour and a half until the event started, which meant you had plenty of time to walk around and see the place.

Dean seemed nervous, he didn’t look in your eyes, it seemed that he was avoiding you. You assumed he was uncomfortable; it wasn’t a common thing for him to wear a suit for a case.

“De, are you okay?”, you asked, caressing his cheek. “We can come back if you want,” you said, hugging him. He hugged you back and started to sway to the sound of the music a local shop was playing. “I’m fine. Actually,” he said “I’m great because I’m with you” he finished before kissing you deeply.

“De…” you whispered and you felt when his body relaxed, “Sweetheart, I know that I messed up on your birthday, I wanted to be with you, but Ketch…“ he sighed, frustrated at the memory, “the point is that I made you a promise that day, and…“

“What do you mean, Dean? You don’t owe me anything. A job is a job, I get it” you admitted, “I know, “he sighed again “but you deserve the world, everything,”

You pecked his lips, you knew he was mad at Ketch for what he did, but you also knew he was blaming himself for letting that happen, “and you give me all and more” you said looking directly to his eyes, “no, I haven’t,” he said and you stopped dancing, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve failed you. I made a promise and I broke it. I wanted to make it up for you, but I didn’t know how and then I realized that you deserve the world and I wasn’t giving you any” he confessed, “De… are you…” you didn’t know what to ask, he was confusing more

“Y/N, you are my world, and you deserve everything and all, and I want to give it to you, so,” he said, kneeling and you started to cry, “will you marry me?”

You couldn’t believe it, you tried to regain some strength and calm down your crying and said “Of course Dean! I love you so much” you said, kneeling with him.

He got the two of you up and put the ring on your finger. You pulled your arms around his neck and kissed him, hard and deeply. It was a dream come true.

“I wish Sammy was here,” you said in a sad tone, “I wouldn’t have missed this in the world,” Sam said from behind, you turned around and hugged him too.

You were in a bubble, your best friend and love of your life has just proposed in your favorite place on earth when you remember why you were there, “Guys, the auction!” you exclaimed and Sam and Dean laughed, “there’s no auction baby,” Dean said, “I told you I was going to make them pay for missing your birthday and we needed a plan to bring you here without suspicion and well, we had to come up with a case.” he explained.

You started to laugh, he really made them pay for what had happened, “I’ll have to thank Mitch then” you said and added, “even though they did compensate us, I still want to kill Ketch” the three of you chuckled.

“I can’t believe you overcome your fear of flying because of me,” you said while looking at the canals with your two favorite people, “for you baby, I’ll do anything.” Dean said, “now, let’s go to celebrate.” Sam added, hugging the both of you.

Sam, Dean, and you got in the car and headed back to the hotel where they were waiting for you with a special dinner organized for the British Men of Letters. You couldn’t be any happier.

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[rojaceartandgaming]

hey so what if i tried my hand at writing a michael distortion x reader for no reason despite only being on episode 82 of tma

jkjk unless

#the magnus archives #tma #tma michael #michael distortion

[tma-reader-inserts]

I have a bazzilion ideas

#tma #the magnus archives #elias bouchard #tim stoker #timothy stoker #gerard keay #gerry keay #michael crew #mike crew #x reader #polls #reader insert

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Yandere Michael Distortion x Reader HC

Requested headcanon - "May you do yandere headcanons for michael distortion?"

Sorry for how long this took, but honestly being a slow writer is a personality trait at this point and I have a small pt 2 in the works that will feature a bit more yandere themes, so be warned. Let me know if I forgot to tag anything. Also comments are super appreciated i will give you a soft platonic smooch on the hand in return, criticism or fixes are totally allowed.

YANDERE FIC! This is not a healthy relationship, do not read if you are under 16 years of age. SFW. I have a part 2 ready to release soon so hold on. Michael is creepy. Also this could technically be read as platonic.

TW: Stalking, yandere behavior, kidnapping, reader is GN but likes men? or at least thinks Michael is hot. Reader is called pretty. Confusing use of pronouns bc Michael is a mess of them and I like it (he/him, they/them, it/it’s and generally calling Michael 2 people, Them is used for distortion). Repetition. Reader is called pretty. Reader has a pet, but no specific animal is named( he vaguely threatens it) . Michael watches you sleep. Michael Kills someone for you. General fuckeray with the plot at my whims, and yeah this is prob a bit out of character but its the best I can do.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. I will not post these on other websites so if you see any of my writing on another site, let me know. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

 They were following the vase held by Salesa. They didn't need to follow the vase, it had no target and it would not be hard for the Distortion to find later, the spiral things called to each other, but they followed anyway. That is when It saw you, It was not sure what drew you to them, but from the moment it saw you, they needed to know more. You were just another person on the street, not even the target of the fractals.

They weren't sure what it was that drew the Avatar to you, but it could not look away. Just a normal, unmarked human. Normal fears, nothing that gorged any power in particular but they needed to know more. So they followed you. Days passed, and Their obsession only grew. They knew where you lived, and they wanted to see you. 

It was easy to watch you, you couldn’t hide from what wasn’t there and never looked. It wasn’t the eye, and could not see through yours, but your doors were easy to manipulate, and getting into your home was child's play. Doors like that only keep out the real things, and They were not real. Your home was better than They could have expected, so full of you and Michael felt at ease when they watched you. You were peaceful when you slept, Michael and the thing that was not Michael liked that about you. 

You had a pet. A squishy thing that did not like Them at first, but They were around often enough that the creature tolerated Them eventually. They could not pet the squishy thing, nor did either beings wish for it, as Michael’s hands were sharp, so they merely ignored each other. The squishy thing never alerted you to his presence, so Michael was fine to let it live. 

A few weeks of just watching you sleep and go about your day was not enough. He enjoyed watching you when you slept, going through your phone and listening in at work, but he wanted to know more. To be closer to you. That was normal with a target (that is what he had to call you in his mind). 

Obviously he was not attached to you. Just vaguely interested, right? That is what Michael told himself when a customer was cruel to you. Words you didn't need to hear spilled from the wretched stranger, and for the first time in a long while Michael was angry. What right did that thing have to criticize you? Michael resigned himself to not act, he was not a watcher but he would just observe, that is what he said as the cruel man walked right into one of michael's conveniently placed doors. Michael fed himself on that wretch’s fear, and spat him out when nothing was left but a broken mind. Michael still watched you cry that night, and that is when he decided he needed to properly meet you. 

Your attention would be divided at work, and he wanted it all. Your job would be inconvenient, so they planned. Your phone wasn’t fully charged on Saturday when you always went to the coffee shop, courtesy of Michael unplugging it. You liked the routine so you went anyway, bringing a book you swore you would read at some point. So you sat, drinking and listening to the boring music in the cafe. Michael could not be sated by watching, he needed to have your attention on him. So he entered the shop as Michael Shelley. They would blend in there, Blonde curls on a pretty demure boy wouldn't raise any alarms, but their real form would. He took a table next to you, acquired a drink from the counter he had no capacity nor will to consume, pulled out a phone charger, and waited. 

They just had to wait for attention as you fiddled and cursed your phone for being unplugged, so Michael offered his (it was from your home, but you would never know). You moved and plugged your phone in, feeling obligated to talk to the young man who offered to help you. You asked his name. Its nature pulled it to lie, to deceive and to tell you something that was not truth. But It didn’t. “Michael,” the man said. That is all it took for you to give him your name. They already knew it, but it felt like a promise to the Thing calling itself Michael. You gave him your name, what a silly mistake. You two talked for a bit, likely less than an hour, your book left to the side as you spoke, and you left to continue with your day. 

Later that day you called a friend, you told them of the pretty boy at the coffee shop. Michael’s unnatural smile grew even larger as he heard that. They thought you were pretty too. You cursed yourself for not getting his number. He laughed, having no number or phone. They felt seen when you spoke of them, not the type of invasive seen the wretched watching one gave, but noticed. But you called him pretty, that means you saw him. You were drawn to him as he was drawn to you. 

The Distortion knew it was likely the mother of spiders was pulling the strings here. How else would they be so drawn to you? But for all the discomfort the thought of being manipulated by the spider was worth it if it meant having you. It was meant to be, the Mother of Spiders did not make mistakes, and they did not sully you by marking your flesh, so they could forgive the intervention.

The distortion was almost content with the arrangement you had, even if only They knew of it. Watching you throughout the day, feeding on some fools when needed, and standing over your bed while you slept. It even became routine to meet at your coffee shop,where he talked in riddles and listened to your laugh, you never questioned why theirs gave you a headache. He got bolder, showing up to certain places he knew you would be at, the store down the street for groceries, outside a bus stop he knew you would pass, and even went to your work once. It was almost comical, how easy it was for him to insert himself into your life in small ways without you even noticing something odd. 

It went wrong when the corruption arrived at your job. A coworker with the writhing mass of rot on their mind. It would not allow the infestation to spread, you wouldn’t know till its too late. You were in danger. You were not in danger. You would be in danger. You wouldn’t be in danger with them. The crawling rot wouldn’t taint you. They could keep you somewhere where it wouldn’t infect you. You would stay with them. The plan would take time, no more than a few days but Michael was enraged at the thought of you being hurt by the squirming mass you saw as a coworker, so Michael got rid of them. It was easy enough, the corruption would lose a thing close to becoming an avatar and you would be safe while they plan. Even though the rot was taken care of, you were not touched by powers, and you would be susceptible to their whims. It made him sick to think that you would be harmed, you weren't strong enough on your own. So he planned to take you. 

It made sense to keep you in the halls, It existed in and as the halls, you belong with it, and you weren’t safe outside of them. Maybe… if you found the center of the place that does not exist you would join them. You would be safe as a part of them. The spiral protects its own. But for now, you will open a door and will not be where you were. You would lose your mind to the fractal madness of shifting stairs and doors, but you are safe from those who would corrupt you with their power. You were too good for them, no other power deserved your fear. 

If only you hadn’t been special that day, or called them pretty. Perhaps if you hadn’t lived alone then someone could have saved you, but there is nothing to save you now. If only the door was labeled “do not open”.

#michael distortion x reader #tma micheal shelly #tma michael #tma #Yandere!Michael x reader #Yandere TMA #tma michael x reader #platonic!michael distortion x reader #michael distortion

[neon-lights-stardust-nights]

Tell me about your dynamic with Elias! I’d love to hear about it

Ah, that's kinda like... Half the problem, I suppose.

There isn't a whole ton to hear about?

I've seen a lot of other self shippers, and I haven't heard anyone openly talk about this? So I'm assuming out of one of my many disorders, I am having a Prime Time Symptom. Either way: I have a really hard time just writing a ship.

This is normally fine? I just end up getting really into conceptualizing the lead-up to the ship, and that's fun itself! The other component to this is that I have a really hard time changing what's already been written, unless I honest to god hate it. I think Scenecore Mad Max's Adventures only transitioned so well into something else, because there was genuine lore development in F94G's (note for the unaware: my main madcom s/i) lore that needed addressing. The core dynamic did shift some, but it was to account for that.

That's really been the only time I've been able to do all that, and then go back and change it. (I promise that this is going somewhere.) S/I is made, backstory is established, things are written/drawn, ect. Oroboros eating its... Ship? It's the repeat of how my ships develop.

This is context for the fact that Elias and Sanya don't really have... A dynamic. Exactly.

What ships get based off of is kinda random. Sometimes its a projection ship from the same fandom, a trope I saw in passing that my brain hooked onto, y'know. Something outside of myself. I'm not super good at conceptualizing ship dynamics otherwise.

Sanya and Elias were originally based off JonElias (note: I tried to cram them into being JonElias for ease of access.) Needless to say, it didn't stick. My projection character of choice (Michael Distortion) doesn't really interact with Elias... Ever? Nor is he shipped with him, not even as a crack ship. Those like 2 or 3 fics of it on a03 are all by me. (Unless?? I started something??)

But even beyond that it has taken me about a year or two to even have a stable s/i. I have ran through so many for TMA in general, let alone the ship canon where Sanya is specifically with Elias. I went through concepts related to myself in-system (I'm a Bakeneko mythic,) concepts related to things in the show I latched onto (a Leitner was a recurring feature for a long time,) to sometimes just throwing darts at random concepts and praying my brain stuck with it (usually "what if Sanya was avatar of [x], with [x] changing every now and again.)

Needless to say, that process might not actually be over, because I don't know how much I like the current concept either. TMA has been particularly challenging to self-insert into. I compare it to carving a place out with a small shovel, to plant myself among the other characters. TMA feels like all its roots are too close together, and its hard to find a pleasing place to even poke my spade at.

(The current concept is someone touched by each entity, but instead of ascending to a terrible-no-good-godhood like Jon later does... Fae is just in an avatar limbo, unaware fae is even supernatural (despite being like... around Jonah's age.) It's a meta commentary on how much development hell Sanya has gone through in TMA, and I thought that was funny.)

All of this in mind: Elias (or really any other TMA f/o) has been... Difficult. Oddly enough, though, Elias has been the most difficult. Between all the people screaming from the heavens that he's unrepentant garbage and "why do people like him," and all the people who begrudgingly include him in their content JUST to make fun of him... Somewhere in all the discourse, it was even harder to stab a shovel into anywhere to clear room for myself.

I think it's kinda warped my perception of what the ship could even be, because the closest I can come to conceptualizing a dynamic between Sanya and Elias is one pursuing the other, but the other being lividly, meanly not into the other. It's genuinely like distressing as fuck.

Hence the seeking of reader content I can enjoy, I kinda hoped that I could try to use that to correct my perception of a Sanya/Elias dynamic. I only read smutt though, and basically all of it is afab in some fashion. So I can't read it.

So anyway sorry for dumping pandora's box on your lap, but you've caught me at a stressful time and inadvertently asked about a stressful ship.

#anon #vent #asks

[writing-for-the-gays]

Hhhhhhhhhhhh

Active self shipping blog that does tma stuff???

Thank you so so much for your service

I know you said youre in writers blog rn so pls dont rush yourself but if I could ask for pre spiral Michael Shelley x nonbinary alternative chubby reader that uses it/its pronouns and its really just extremely clashing aesthetics and reader is also so much shorter than him and people give them weird looks but its really soft and cuddly and... they are just gay and in love you feel me?

I do wanna answer this because I have a feeling I know who sent this, I do neopronouns too! Im a neopronouns user too, current ones are poet/poets/poetself and pup/pupself! Don't be afraid to send asks with neopronouns as being yourself is 100000% what I'm here to do, and if I can cheer someone up by giving them something they can't find I will do that! It's important everyone has a place to read an insert that's like them! Whole reason I made this page!

[kikiofthevast]

Judging You Based on Your TMA Ships

This post is a joke, and is not intended to reflect any sort of fact about the reader or audience.

I'm sure someone's done this before lmao

---

Jonmartin - You enjoy the enemies to lovers trope greatly and do not think it is overrated.

Jontim - You have elected to ignore MAG 119

Martim - You are a fan of Soft x Bad Boy ships

Jonmartim - You enjoy all of the combinations in this ship, but cannot choose which one is your favorite

Jonmartimsasha - You just want nice things for all four of them, and really who doesn't?

Timsasha - You have elected to ignore all of the main plot events in canon in favor of drawing/writing them smooching

Jonsasha - You think shared competence is the best relationship starter

Martinsasha - You are a fan of rarepairs

Jonelias - You have elected to ignore the fact that power dynamics are often unhealthy

LonelyEyes - You really like the joke that they're on and off again married and divorced but also genuinely enjoy their dynamic

Jonoliver - You latched on to that hospital scene about as strongly as Martin did, but for different reasons

Jonpeter - You just want Jon to suffer, but also to have nice things at the same time

Gertrudeagnes - You are a fan of wlw subtext

WTGFs - You are a fan of wlw text

Daisira - You are a fan of any kind of wlw content

Jongerry - You really want Gerry to still be alive. Like, an unhealthy amount. You also go back and listen to MAG 111 too much.

Jonah Magnus/Anyone - You are a fan of the inherent romance of letter-writing

Jongeorgie - You believe that Jon deserves to spend more time with the Admiral, and that they have a good dynamic.

Elias/Peter/Simon - You think all old people know each other, and in this case you are correct.

Jondaisy - You enjoy predator-prey relationships but like healthy. Also they have an excellent dynamic.

Janesasha - You read that one fic about them and now you ship them wholeheartedly

Judeagnes - You firmly believe in the appeal of tragic romance.

Jonmichael - You think that when approached in a certain way, stabbing someone can be the start of an amazing relationship

Timmichael - You are a lover of the friends with benefits trope (idk where I got this one either trust me)

Martinmichael - You can ship literally anything if it's well written. Also you want nice things for Michael.

Sashamichael - You are a sucker for excellent meet-cutes

Michaelgerry - You really want nice things for both of them

Helensasha - You really like the idea of them having tea

---

Please let me know if there are any other ships you want me to add

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #elias bouchard #peter lukas #simon fairchild #oliver banks #gerard kaey #gertrude robinson #agnes montague #daisy tonner #basira hussain #georgie barker #melanie king #edited to be nicer and less bad

[tmabigbang]

Are you restricting any characters/ships (other than reader/OC content)? I know some TMA events in the past have disallowed JonElias or Jonah Magnus focused content so I just want to clarify if any specific ships/characters aren’t allowed so I can prepare a fic idea.

Hey anon! So besides what is banned in our rules (OCs, avatarsonas, x reader fics), we are not banning specific ships or characters. However, we will ask that you carefully take into account our rule banning content glorifying abusive or unhealthy relationships (ie abuse, grooming, pedophilia/age difference where one was a minor, etc.) We have clarified our rule here. We also want to mention that we are allowing Gerry/Michael fics for this event, as long as they are the same age in the fic and abide by our other rules. We understand that the canon timeline was very misleading and we want to respect that. Furthermore, we do allow lonelyeyes fics or any other fics where both characters are consenting adults with an age difference introduced by avatar powers. While certain relationships such as JonElias, PeterMartin, JonPeter, etc would not be banned automatically, we ask writers to be mindful of the fact that these relationships canonically contain unhealthy dynamics. If an author chose to write a fic featuring a ship like that for our event, we would carefully talk with them to ensure that their fic showed those relationships as unhealthy and did not instead glorify them. TLDR: While we do not ban any ships or characters, we recognize many could run afoul of our rules and would take care that any fics featuring such dynamics portray them in accordance to our guidelines.

-Mod Cai

#tma big bang 2021 #asks #anon #mod cai

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Michael Shelley x Gn!Reader

Read as a statement. Italics are Jon, and regular is You! Gender Neutral, congrats you are married, have graduated uni, and live in England. Statement given around mag 140. I’m going with the descriptions given on Fandom Wiki for Michael, and the classic interpretation of Helen (since she has no canon description).

Warnings! Intense language, traumatic experiences, major character loss, some almost sexual themes but no smut. Pretty much just PG-13 except for language and some monsterfucking elements. READER HAS SEMI BISEXUAL TENDENCIES (you get both distortions for the price of one!) Also, what's a timeline, never heard of her? So just general timeline fucking up for the sake of some fluff and angst. Mentions of religion and praying (kinda worshiping the spiral a la Manuela)! Drug mentions. Also, violence against Elias, but who cares! Some artistic liberties taken when it comes to a lot of things. I’ve never been to the UK so some stuff might be wrong. Technically unintentional spousal abuse, (gaslight gatekeep girlboss) plus technically kidnapping? Plus the reader is a bit mean to Jon. Also my friend proofread this and said it reminded her of twilight a bit so I hate that but I wanna post it anyway. I hate that I took unintentional inspiration from twilight but here we are anyway.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

Quick taglist @decora-peaches , @swordsandfools, sorry gang I'm a fool who needed the confidence to post this and its been quite a bit since I promised to post this.

Helen has decided to try to buy our friendship again, as she has brought me a statement. Where she got it from I have no idea, but I feel the need to record it. Anyway, Statement of (y/n) Shelley, regarding their life and experiences with their husband... Michael. Date written, unknown. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

Statement begins.

I'd like to first say that I hate your Archive and everything you stand for. You took the man I love from me twice and I despise you all for it, but Helen asked for it and I cannot deny her anything. So here is my statement, and I hope you choke on it.

I met Michael Shelley in our first year in University. We were in a maths class together. We had finals coming up and a handful of our classmates wanted to meet up at the south library to practice together later in the day. The study session ran extremely late, and it was dark when I left the building. He must have seen my hesitance and offered to walk me back to my dorm, and I guess we hit it off.

We went out quite a lot, and he was so sweet and always listened to what I had to say. He was occasionally forgetful, but he never made me feel like I was

Michael always had this… obsession with the unnatural. He told me what happened to his friend when he was a child, and I believed him well enough. I didn't believe in ghosts or ghouls or any of that lot, but he did. Michael heard that the Magnus Institute was hiring, and before I knew it he had dropped out and started working there full time. I was surprised, but honestly I didn’t think much of it at the time because he was so happy to have that damn job.

My parents were... not thrilled with Michael. To them, he was too quiet and, as you know, working for the Magnus Institute isn't the most glorious or well paying job, and my parents were worried that he was crazy. To be honest, he wasn't all there when I was with him, he always seemed to be a world away. But that didn't matter to me. He was mine, and we loved each other.

He proposed at my graduation, and we got married a few months later. The wedding was a small thing, his parents didn't come and mine showed up begrudgingly, so it was mostly just a few friends and his two of his coworkers that showed up in the end. Michael was so damn happy to see Emma and Eric. Eric even brought his little boy with him. It was the happiest day of our lives, I don’t think I ever saw Michael smile as much as he had that day.

We had a small apartment right between our workplaces. It was a bit of a trip for both of us, but I don't think either of us minded. He went on a few trips for the institute, so when he told me he was going north with Gertrude I didn’t see anything the matter with it. I helped him pack some warm clothes, and we had dinner before he left. Nothing… Nothing seemed wrong at first. I was used to him not being able to talk when he was on his trips, but after 3 weeks of silence went by I was scared. I got the letter the next day. “The Magnus Institute regrets to inform you that Michael Shelley has passed away. Our deepest condolences, Elias Bouchard.”

I went to the institute to get answers, storming my way into Elias’s office. He didn't even have the kindness to look shocked or even the slightest bit remorseful. Didn’t say shit about it either, just that he was dead. I asked about his body, if there was anything that could be buried or just anything about what happened. He just… stared at me, just saying that Michael was dead and that the institute was sorry.

I don’t remember much about what happened next, but I remember feeling his weasley little neck in my hands as I tried to squeeze the answers out of him. Security pulled me away and when he caught his breath he told me he wouldn’t press charges, but that I had to leave and not come back. As I was escorted out of the building, I saw Gertrude and Emma staring at me with those blank eyes. I begged her to tell me anything about Michael, anything at all and that I knew she was with him on that trip. Nothing made her react at all, but I swear she flinched when I asked if she killed him. I don’t know how I got home that day.

I prayed that day. I prayed that the institute was wrong, that Michael was alive, that this was just a sick fucking joke. But it wasn't, and I had to bury an empty box alone a few days later. Work gave me a few weeks off that were spent practically catatonic in our bed. People came by, friends, my parents, but they couldn’t bring him back to me or fill the empty hole that was left in my life. It's strange, you never realize how dependent you are on a person until they suddenly leave, no warning. It’s like a crutch being kicked out from under a missing limb, but you never stop falling.

But you don’t deserve my grief, my sadness, you already know what you did. You don’t want to know about my Michael, you want to know about the Michael you created. For Helen I will indulge you. I first saw the yellow door about three months after he passed. I was grieving, and that makes us so much more foolish. I had been walking home after work and I was lost in my own head, taking turns and alleys I hadn't ever seen before. I think I was around Westminster when it happened. Some men had tried to grab my purse, and I ran.

I heard their footsteps following me as I ran through the small, dark alleys, my shoes smacked against the slippery cobblestone and I was so afraid. I was ahead of them by a bit, and I started banging on doors, begging for someone to help me, but no one answered. No lights were on in any of the homes and I felt my heart hammering in my throat threatening to escape. Then I saw it, fused into a cobblestone fence. A bright yellow door at the end of the alley, just barely opened so a sliver of light peaked through. I ran towards it, running through it before slamming the door behind me. I never heard anything from the other side of the door.

When the adrenaline died off I noticed the hallway. The walls were an obnoxious mix of beige and yellow. There were these mirrors in the hallway, kind of like the mirrors at carnivals that distort your body and make you look different. Everything hurt to look at, and the lights were so bright I was getting a migraine. The place made me feel like I was on a LSD trip. That wasn't even the strangest thing though. In my peripheral vision I kept seeing… something. It only appeared where I couldn't focus on it. I tried to go back to the door I came from, but It wouldn't budge, and I never got a clear view of what was there so I started walking. After a few minutes of the endless nauseating hallways I saw another door.

I don't know what I expected when I opened the door, maybe more weird hallways, but never in a million years did I expect it to be my own apartment on the other side. I was frozen in place, shocked and so, so afraid when I felt something grip my shoulder strongly, jerking me forward and into my bedroom before the yellow door slammed shut with a bang. And when I looked back there was no door.

I told myself I was hallucinating. That something was wrong and it was all just a bad dream. I spent the whole night convincing myself I was going mental. Lying to myself worked, and I was so close to believing it when I saw the bruise on my skin under where I was shoved. Some part of that night had to have been true, I had no fucking clue what really happened.

Looking back it was so stupid of me. So fucking stupid but I needed to know what the hell happened that night. I started looking for danger, going into darker areas later in the night. I walked around with fake jewelry that looked nice enough from far away to entice some lowlife thief. I got robbed twice, got a few scrapes and bruises but the door didn’t show up again. Kept telling myself it was grief, maybe some disorder or another that stemmed from that first night.

I don't know how it was different from that night, but maybe it knew they wouldn't have hurt me too bad, so the door left me to my own devices, or maybe I’m just insane..

I wasn't expecting a door when I saw it next. There had been a break-in near my work, and a police officer came by to ask us some questions. The officer was this real brute of a man, tall enough that he had to duck to get into the shop. I don’t remember his name, but I didn't like the look of him. Of course I answered the questions, but the officer just started getting closer and closer. I was scared and closed my eyes for just a second, and when I opened them the yellow door was to my right, where a window was supposed to be. I bolted straight into the door, I don't even know if the officer followed me. But the door opened and the nauseating hallway was there again.

When I heard the door latch I took a moment to breathe. The strange figure appeared in my peripherals again, always disappearing when I tried to focus on it. I called out to it, asking where I was and what was going on. Looking down the hallway I saw something tap the mirror, like it was poking it from inside. I moved closer until I saw the horrible hand gripping the inside of the mirror. They weren't hands, hands don't have that many bones, hands aren't that long or sharp but… there they were. I didn’t even realize I was standing in front of it until I felt that strange weight on my shoulder again. I turned around quickly but nothing was there, and turning around I almost screamed. My reflection was there, but it wasn't alone. Whatever was connected to those claws resting on my shoulders looked almost like Michael. I could feel the weight on my shoulders, but the thing with Michael’s face was only in the mirror.

Michael wasn't originally a tall man, but now he almost had to bend over to fit his entire frame in the mirror. Michael didn't have hands like that, Michael’s smile was never that large, and most importantly, Michael wasn't alive. But here stood the thing that was and wasn't my husband. But when he said hello I just broke down. I told him everything and begged him to stay by my side. He said he had left, but that which both is and isn't him has been here. He said he would stay, and I said that I loved him. I don’t think he loved me, not the… the new version of him. I don't even think he had any emotions left at the end. I think there was just enough Michael to remember me.

I knew he wasn't exactly like my Michael, but he was close enough to make me happy. I knew he was hurting people, the hallways weren’t silent, and I heard screaming occasionally. There were a lot of mirrors in his doors, and sometimes I saw faces in them, real normal faces. I wanted him back, even as he had become he was still my Michael.

His door was in our… my apartment some days. Oftentimes it wouldn't even open, but it was just a comforting presence. His door, his shenanigans, it all just became my new life. He wasn't Michael, but he was enough like him to make the grief go away. If I fooled myself enough it almost felt normal again, like when we were first married. He didn't speak much, he just came and went like a house cat. I would speak to him, or at least his door when I was particularly lonely.

There were times he acted like his old self. Some days he would go through the motions of making coffee, only to stare at it in distaste before he disappeared.

I would see him standing in our apartment, just staring at a wall or going through one of his old routines. Some nights I would wake up to see him staring at me from the foot of our bed. I even found some of his gold hair on his pillow again. We lived that way for around seven years. In that time, nothing really changed, we just inhabited the same area. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than living without him, so I didn't mind.

A few months before he disappeared, again, he came back with blood on his hands. I tried to ask what happened, but all he would say was that he “poked the eye”, and I assume that means it's your lot. He seemed so pleased with himself so I didn't ask any more questions. That's when things got bad again.

I didn't see him for a few weeks, and I was worried, not even his door was here. I was so afraid he was gone again, and I worried I was insane again. I prayed, not to God this time, no, I prayed to the hallways and the ever changing fractals. I prayed to the spiral Michael mentioned. I offered worship and my love in exchange for any part of my lover back. And this time someone answered.

There was a figure in my room again, but it wasn't Michael. It was a woman I came to know as Helen. She was around the same height as my new Michael, and her voice was just as disorienting and alluring as my husband. I had to mourn Michael twice, but Helen filled in the gaps he left very well. Helen didn't know much about me, only that she felt pulled towards me, but she was determined to learn.

Helen tried to be a person more than Michael did at the end. Michael would never stay long, but Helen would spend hours in our apartment, just sitting or watching me. I would see her doors throughout my day, always in the most impossible places. She told me once it was just to see me smile, can you believe that? Michael did the same thing, and I adore her for this kindness. She is such a kind presence, and I care for her.

It's strange, in another life I think I could love her the way I love Michael. But this is not the life we are in, and my heart belongs to Michael. You took him from me, and I will never forgive you for that, your eyes will be blind one day and you will be left with nothing, just like me.

Statement… ends. Helen, why did she give this to me. What does this mean? I asked Elias, and apparently some of this is verified. Michael did pass away at this time, and he was married to one Mx. (Y/N) Shelley. I have elected not to reach out to their family, as if this is true, then reaching out would only end poorly. I… I need to talk to Helen.

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