#(no spiders were harmed but that wasn't for her lack of trying)

[d-lissa]

Liveblogging TMA - Season 2 - MAG 62-66

"The End, of course."

FIRST EDITION :

... Holy fuck, it's a Mary Keay's statement.

~~~~~~~~~~

I. I can't. Oh my god, I can't.

This was SO much.

Ok, so first of all, Leitner didn't make the Leitners. That is good to know, I was confused as to why they were called that if he didn't make them, but wondered how he could've if they existed before the guy was born. Turns out he was just a collector, which, fair enough.

Mary Keay was as disturbing as a child as she was as an adult, and I am guessing that her "death" was her trying "pretty good idea" to find the last secret of the book in her possession, considering she'd die at the end of her son later that year. And it, most apparently, worked.

That particular book wasn't ever a Leitner in a general sense, as she never gave it to Leitner to put it in his library, but considering the lack of terms for it, I guess we just have to call it that.

Now, onto the whole "The End" ordeal. Gertrude asked Mary who's book it was, which means that the book either belonged or reflected an oddity. But rather than an actual name or anything of the sort, the answer was a concept. "The End".

Is that the case for every oddities we met ? Are they all a ... Reflection of a bigger concept ?

I can't even start to imagine what they are, but there are several. Based on the description of Rosa Meyer on her brother's work on "outer cults" that :

"Seemed to focus on holy beings or concepts completely apart from what would be considered normal religious practice."

Which is. Interesting.

Mary Keay talked as if there were plenty of those, and as if most people aware of them restricted themselves to one only, while she preferred to keep herself open to everything. To "keep her portfolio open".

So that means that The Institute, or at least The Archive is under one such concept. The one "beholding" things. But only the one, compared to Mary who was interested in all of them.

I am assuming that the spiders and the stranger are part of the same thing too, due to the table, I am guessing ? Unless the stranger was bound to the table by the spiders but came from another concept. It would explain its resentment over the table and its web.

That the ones with liminal spaces where you're all alone to the point of madness are also part of the same whole.

The ones with cannibalism invloved probably are too, and maybe even the one from "Killing Floor", as it didn't really fit the lonely liminal spaces but rather people as food.

Of course, the ones with people burning, diseases, insects and all that fun stuff that makes me gag are too.

And as for "The End", which is the only concept who's official name we've got, the episodes where we have met it, in my opinion anyway, are :

"Anglerfish"

"The Piper"

"Vampire Killer"

"Dreamer"

"Piecemeal" (?)

"Skintight"

"Cheating Death"

"Boatswain's Call" (?)

"Section 31"

"Still Life"

"Children of the Night"

I could be wrong, obviously, but those are the episodes that makes me think of when talking about the concept of "The End". I am still on the fence on whether or not spiders are a part of that, or something else entirely, so i haven't really mentionned them here.

I'll probably do this each time we encounter such concepts, not gonna lie. This is absolutely enthralling. The implications of it all, that the oddities, the things with power in the world are man made concept made monstrous and taken form, this is absolutely amazing.

A little bit more on the Keays, I guess that I have been a little too harsh with Gerard. He's not really a good person, but his mother being how she is, I am surprised he still managed to grow up into someone willing to help others, and to take actions when he thinks his mother's obsession with something is probably harmful.

Though I have absolutely no doubt that he did the ritual on his mother as she probably wanted him to. That probably left some scars, good thing that he didn't give her more Leitners, god knows what would've happened otherwise. Considering the tattoos, I think he's more into the Institute's concept than the seemingly holistic views of his mother.

I wonder what concept "Ex Altiora" comes from. If Mike's lightning oddity that was pursuing him was from another one before being trapped into the book.

Maybe the book comes from the same concept Michael comes from ? It would explain why he'd have this name, if the concept possesses someone inside it, then surely he'd be able to use them, right ?

Mh.

Gertrude as always was heavily entertaining. I really love her sass, and the barely disguised contempt she has for Mary that she hides behind a facade of politeness. Old women. Those are viscious. Very entertaining dynamic right there, I'd almost ship them myself.

Supplemental, Gertrude had several hiding places and I am so intrigued about where else she hid informations. Love to see Jonathan walk into his predecessor's footsteps, but I'd rather they don't end up on the same finish line.

I wonder what the skin page had on it. And what the key opens.

THE END OF THE TUNNEL :

"And then I heard it: the third set of breathing."

More darkness, more Smirke, and more Jonathan doing my job. The concept of the darkness has got another episode to add to the list and I am getting more and more intrigued by whetever the fuck the churches in this story have got going on. Have we seen one church that doesn't end up with someone dead ? Genuine question.

Supplemental, Melanie is back and I am very happy about it, especially more so due to the fact that she sees that the stranger isn't Sasha and that she's going to stay there for a while, thank fucking god. I am getting really antsy about Not-Sasha and whatever she's doing, so I am freaking out the longer she stays there.

Also, I refuse to accept that Sasha is dead until we see her rotten body.

BURIAL RITES :

"I cannot imagine what they would have thought of a person who could not die. I can imagine what they would have done to them."

Oh, this was awful.

Actually, I wonder if the Deaths actually have anything to do with "The End". Because it is quite obvious that there is no end for them, right ?

But just the idea of someone trapped in their mummified bodies for several centuries, waiting to die, is just heartbreaking.

Is it the end to expect for Nathaniel Thorp ? I am pretty sure he was the person to whom the blood used in "Blood Bag" belonged to, and the blood showed signs of several diseases and such. And considering how the person who was probably him in "Section 31" acted, I think he's already getting there.

Did Nathaniel gets stuck working for another concept, in the hopes of moving away from the grasp of the one that controls his life and his death ?

I guess when you are desperate, you'd be willing to work with anything in the hopes of ever getting what you want.

Supplemental, Jonathan couldn't keep patient and went to see Basira. I am glad to know that she's at least worried for him, though I do wonder if she even knows the things that are on the tape. I don't think Jon talked about all the crimes and horrors presented in them, otherwise she'd probably try harder herself.

At least, she's self aware enough to realize how bad they suck at being sneaky. I am almost sorry for them.

BINARY :

"Your mind is all you are, there’s no backup, or you know, reset, If it goes."

... Welp. Guess I got another fear to add to my list. Somehow, this one wasn't one that I ever thought about, the "mind being trapped into a computer" thing, but it sounds absolutely horrifying.

To be honnest, I have been very much interested on the effects of the supernatural on oddities and vice versa, and hearing Tessa certainly helped to put many things in perspective. But then, I have to wonder what the difference between a computer and the tapes are. Maybe how broad the utilisation is for one ?

A computer only has as much as it does because of how many things are crammed in very rigid, very solid lines of codes, something that a tape recorder doesn't have ? Is it because of the lack of rigidity that this happens ? I don't know.

I am glad he still manages to think, even in his paranoia, and found ways to get access to Gertude's computer.

Supplemental, Tim finally said his piece, directly to Jon's face, which is. Good. And Jon explained himself somewhat, in a way that Tim managed to understand, if not entirely, but that too is good. They can't trust each other and, at this point, Tim barely even like Jon, but they can trust that there's something behind the scene and that it makes them unable to rekinddle any kind of bond between them until they go to the bottom of it.

Still, I do feel sorry for Tim. He sounds like the type of guy to have always been surrounded and well liked by his peer, so being thrust into situations where he feels all alone must be very hard for him indeed. I wonder what Not-Sasha did though. Is it just because of how dodgy she is ?

Whatever force is behind the Archive, it doesn't want anyone to leave it. But it also didn't manage to protect Sasha, or communicate that something is wrong, either. I guess it is just a neutral being.

I do hope things will get better soon though. I really want to see Tim and Jon being friends.

HELD IN CUSTOMS :

... Oh great. Salesa is back.

~~~~~~~~~~

"He drugged me. Obviously he drugged me, that’s the only explanation that makes sense."

And he's as shady as usual. Actually, I'd even say twice as more so, because a Lukas was involved. You know, the one sacrificing crew mates to the spirit of the sea or whatever.

I wonder what concept this box belongs to. The one isolating people ?

Nothing much to say about this one, though I did feel sorry for the man. What a life. But still, wasn't really a favourite, but wasn't so bad, the claustrophobic elements were pretty well handdled I liked it !

Supplemental, Jon has finally reviewed the computer and it finally clicked for him that Gertrude was kind of ... Metal. Like, I absolutely love her, but I would understand why someone would want her dead considering the property damages, and deaths and stuff. What was she trying to do with a Leitner ?

Could it be that the concept behind the Archive has one too ? Or artefacts, maybe ? Well, I guess the artefact was the mirror that got broken in "The Observer Effect", but maybe there are more, you know ? I wonder what they could do.

I wonder what the concept does at all, actually.

In "First Aid", Gerard said to the nurse that the "beholding" was better for her than the "lightless flame". We have established that the beholding is whatever behind the Archives, but what does it do exactly, except observing ? And why did Gerard phrase it this way ? Are there concepts that are better suited for everyone, more so than others ? Can he see which ones are best for who ? And what does beholding do anyway.

Does everyone who give statements partake in it ? Kind of like Nathalie said to Kathy in "Growing Dark" ?

The quote of the post will be it, actually :

"You’re a natural for Them. You’re worshipping as we speak"

End Liveblogging.

#tma #the magnus archive #liveblogging #liveblog-tma

[the-interplay-of-sex-and-violins]

Alythara

Seldarine Drow

Cleric of Eilistraee

Queen of "do no harm; take no shit"

Menzoberranzan

Alythara is the youngest daughter of House Zauvirr, and like most noble daughters, was raised to be a priestess of Lolth. However, Lolthite doctrine--and indeed the majority of Menzoberranzan culture--never sat right with Alythara, and she longed for something else...but the thought of trying to escape the City of Spiders was too overwhelming and, in all likelihood, fatal for her to commit to. Instead, she did her best to get by--doing just enough to avoid attracting the ire of her goddess or mother, and avoiding participation in the cruelties of Menzoberranzan's culture as much as possible.

She was just over a century old when her little brother, Kelyn, was born. After some debate, he was allowed to live and given to Alythara to raise...something Alythara herself suspected to be a test, as well as avoiding tying up one of their more promising sisters with the rearing of a defective child. She was torn between her need to raise him "properly" so she wouldn't be deemed an unfit caretaker and Kelyn taken from her, and her innate desire to be much kinder and gentler than was "proper". Alythara did her best to balance the two, keeping a gentle hand with Kelyn as often as possible, though she could only stretch the facade so far.

Despite that, Kelyn shaped into a bright, cheerful, gentle boy under her care, and the two were immensely fond of one another...until he was about seven years old, and separated from Alythara long enough for an assassin to strike. Said assassin failed in his attempt to take the youngest Zauvirr's life, however--because Kelyn took his instead, and in fact, was quite thrilled by the whole experience.

While the rest of their family was shocked but intrigued by the unexpected development in their youngest, Alythara was horrified; but she held her tongue when it was decided Kelyn would be taken from her care to be trained as an assassin.

For decades, the two siblings drifted apart and rarely spent much time together. Kelyn was eager to prove himself as a killer, and exceptionally talented at it; Alythara almost wanted to hate him for becoming another part in the horrific ongoing bloodsport that was Menzoberranzan, but never truly could, because in the end he was just a boy being molded by people neither of them could resist. Besides, Alythara blamed herself for letting him be turned into what he was now: after all, hadn't it been her job to care for the boy, from the moment he'd been born, and hadn't she failed to protect him when it mattered most?

Eventually, Kelyn's talent for music was discovered and encouraged, and it wasn't too long after that that Alythara stumbled across him in a half-forgotten storage room, in the midst of a mental breakdown. Though he was unwilling to talk at first, fearing punishment for such a flagrant display of weakness, Alythara managed to calm him down, and Kelyn divulged everything to her: he didn't want to do the things he did, but something in him forced it, and the evidence and memory of it sickened him. And worse, he couldn't stop: he was only alive because he was useful to their matron, and if he ceased to be useful, he'd likely find himself on one of Lolth's altars within a tenday.

Recognizing the gentle boy she'd once known was still in there, Alythara confessed her own flaws to him: her disgust with Menzoberranzan as a whole and the world they'd been born into and forced to participate in, her desire to leave it, even her lack of faith in the Queen of Spiders.

The two quickly became close again, having each finally found someone like themselves in the Underdark. For a time, they kept each other sane while Kelyn did his bloody work and Alythara went through her goddess' rites, periodically making half-plans to leave together and flee to the surface, though the idea was still too big for them to grasp or seriously consider.

Then, one day, Kelyn didn't return from a job. His work had been done--all his targets slaughtered, with his usual flair--but he himself simply vanished. It was unlikely he was dead, given his skill and that his body was never recovered.

In a panic, Alythara checked everywhere she knew her brother might go, having grown to expect his increasingly-common breakdowns after jobs. He wasn't anywhere, and the only clues she found to his whereabouts were the fact that a few of his things were missing, and a note left for her, in his hand.

All it said was "I'm sorry".

The Surface and Eilistraee

For a short time, Alythara was in shock and unsure how to respond to Kelyn's disappearance and the sudden lack of her remaining lifeline. Eventually, though, she came to the obvious conclusion: he must have finally broken under the pressure, and fled to the surface like they'd half-planned. While the rest of her house scrambled to figure out what to do with their prize assassin gone, Alythara quietly packed what she could, and one day she simply set out towards the surface without looking back.

She didn't get far before realizing her desertion had been noticed: Lolth withdrew her favor from her errant once-priestess, refusing to bestow any further divine gifts on her. Nonetheless, Alythara breached the surface, without a clue where to go.

She was shortly found by a small group of surface drow: an Eilistraean patrol from a nearby commune, searching for any stragglers wandering the wilderness in need of help. They were quick to bring Alythara back with them, though they hadn't seen anyone matching Kelyn's description...or, indeed, any drow escaping the Underdark recently, aside from Alythara herself.

The Eilistraeans helped get Alythara back on her feet and were happy to offer her a place to stay for as long as she wanted it, as well as helping assist in finding her brother. With nowhere else to go (and caught off-guard by such overwhelming kindness from her own people, despite no apparent gain for them), Alythara stayed, and learned about their goddess.

The Dark Maiden appealed to Alythara far more than the Queen of Spiders ever had, and it wasn't long before she had converted to Eilistraee's priesthood. Kelyn had yet to be found, but Alythara reasoned that he could take care of himself, and threw herself into furthering Eilistraee's faith when not actively searching for him, often combining both goals in the process: she was consistently a volunteer for long, far-ranging patrols that might take her near someone who had seen him.

For years, only once did Alythara find a potential lead: a young drow man accompanied by a tiefling child, in a small town a short distance from her commune. By the time she could investigate, though, both drow and tiefling were gone, having disappeared all at once with nobody any wiser as to their destination.

A decade later was when Alythara finally heard another likely rumor: an unusual-looking drow bard in Baldur's Gate, social and friendly and something of a local novelty, often seen with his tiefling daughter. Additionally, murders had taken a small but noticeable spike in the city within the past ten years or so...roughly coinciding with when Alythara had lost track of her first lead. And more to the point, many of those murders had a feel to them--Alythara knew her brother's tendencies, and these murders sounded uncomfortably like his doing.

If it was him, he was in a bad way, to be still committing the acts he'd hated so much. Without a second thought, Alythara packed up to go to Baldur's Gate in search of the drow she suspected was her brother.

Before she could get there, though, she was abducted by mindflayers, locked in one of their pods aboard a nautiloid, and infected with one of their tadpoles. The nautiloid was attacked by githyanki dragon-riders, and in the chaos, eventually crashed somewhere on a beach near Baldur's Gate; Alythara managed to break free of her damaged pod in the aftermath, stumbling free of the wreckage, and before long, she found other survivors.

Among them was another drow: a young man with a violin, and aside from his coloration, everything else was as she'd known him a decade ago.

Kelyn.

#Swan sings #words #Alythara #oc lore

[dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt]

Is it possible to get high off relief

#Effie was breathing really weird today #I thought it was just bc it's humid AF and none of us are used to that #but it got worse this evening so we had to drain her #and I was terrified that it meant there was fluid in her lungs #but no #the drain went SUPER well #one of the best ones we've ever done #and afterward she: #chased down and devoured an earwig #went for a wander around the whole yard (even in the rain which she hates!!) #absolutely OBLITERATED her food dish #went ham on a spider that was crawling on the opposite side of the mesh #(no spiders were harmed but that wasn't for her lack of trying) #and scratched up all the nice clean bedding I lovingly put out for her #I feel like Mum and I are more exhausted than her #X'D #Matt speaks #my pets #Effie #her Majesty lives #her breathing is wonderfully healthy again #RELIEF

[giorno-plays-piano]

The Spider's Bride Part 3

Pairing: spider!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, forced marriage.

Words: 2422.

Summary: Whoever your stepmother sold you to, he wasn’t as honorable as she claimed.

Part 1

Part 2

P.S. I just remembered I haven't explain arachnids' family ties yet - even though Bucky says he has "sisters", they are actually his cousins, daughters of his aunt. Since the ones of his kind had always lived in a very big families, cousins were considered "sisters" and "brothers" because of their closeness to each other.

_________________

You spent the next two weeks in your chamber again - apparently, Bucky's spells were truly very poweful as you slept the whole day after returning home from the nursery. He even had to have a check on you, but the healer assured him you'd be alright soon. Bucky had to be more careful from now on.

However, he was rather surprised you didn't cry after your awakening and said nothing to him about your visit to the town. Judging by the way you behaved, maybe you were not as shocked as Bucky expected you to be. He was so relieved.

Arabella was visiting often. She didn't enter your rooms as a precaution - she said it was too early for that - but stayed right behind the doors, either singing or talking to you. Despite being reluctant at first, as the days passed, you talked more and more about everything you wanted to know. A part of him was jealous. In the end, he could tell you of all the things you were curious about as well, but you refused to talk to him much. Arabella asked Bucky to be patient. In the end, it was him you considered her captor, not her.

The more time you spent with her, the calmer you seemed. You started eating better, sometimes even complimenting him for the food he brought you directly from the surface; the man heard less and less of your crying. Eventually, you even started to move within the house to borrow new books from the extensive library Bucky made exclusively for you. Of course, he still kept his human form whenever you were with him.

"Bucky, we discussed a few things this morning with Arabella." You said to him when you brought back empty dishes from your room and started washing them despite Bucky protesting it. "That potion I asked you to give me the first day when you brought me."

He stiffened at your words since he knew perfectly what potion you were talking about. What on Earth Arabella was thinking?

"She told me how your spells work and how humans can get addicted to that. I understand why you don't want to cast more charms on me." You rinsed the large silver dish and put it to the side to let it dry before storing them in the cardboard. "But she said that if you added a three drops of love potion to my drink in the morning, it may ease my worries."

"Dear Lord." He grunted, taking away your cup and clenching his teeth. Maybe his sister was an expert in potions she had been preparing for decades, yet he couldn't believe she offered you something like that right after telling him to not use magic.

"Please, Bucky. She said it's safe."

"Oh, and how would she know this? I don't remember her treating any human females for long."

Controling himself was rather complicated at this point, but he knew he was overreacting. Undoubtedly, his sister would do nothing to harm you in any way. He just didn't trust the methods he knew nothing about, and risking your health was out of question.

You sighed, taking the apron you stole from your betrothed off and folding it neatly. The more you stayed here, the more acceptable your life seemed to you, and sometimes you hated it with all your heart. Your bed was nice and warm; your food was always ready for you when you became hungry; your room was reserved purely for you, and no one could enter it without your permission; you had many gorgeous dresses your stepmother could never even dream about. Although the thought of Bucky in his true form still made you feel disgusted, you couldn't wish him to die anymore. More and more you thought someone like him didn't deserve it just because he was ugly. Regardless what your instincts were telling you, he treated you better than any human did, didn't he?

You had a better life down here since the times your mother left, and thinking of that hurt.

However, you did want to wipe off the memory of Bucky chasing you the day your stepmother brought you to the cave. Sometimes you saw his eight long dark legs in your nightmares. This was what you talked to Arabella today, voicing your concerns to help you do something with it. Maybe if you could erase this, your feelings towards the man you couldn't escape would change faster.

Arabella didn't agree to wiping off that picture out of your mind as the spell that she would need to cast was unpredictable at best and could take half of your memories. As you knew little about magic, she spent some time explaining to you how the charms worked and how they affected both arachnids and humans. Indulging yourself into taking too many soothing spells sounded like a bad idea now, and you understood Bucky's reluctance to cast them.

Nonetheless, she offered you a better way to ease your worries. Love potion didn't bring the ones of your kind any particular harm, though it wasn't powerful enough to keep you in love for a long time. However, a small dose of it could keep your worries away, the woman said. If you and Bucky agreed, she would ensure the potion to be made perfectly.

But he just had to be so goddamn stubborn! You learned that despite his scary appearance and the fact that he'd been through the war from its beginning to the very end Bucky was a hopeless romantic. He probably hoped the issue would be solved somehow purely by itself. As much as you would like it to be true, your mind refused believing that marrying an arachnid wasn't frightening.

"Listen, I know you care." You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, turning to him. "But I need help. I know soothing spells aren't safe, so we need something else. Please, let's try this out. If you see I don't react as I should, we'll stop right away. What harm could 3 drops of potion bring, anyway?

He groaned at your persistance, but you weren't giving up just yet. You spend half an hour talking to him purely about the potion and the possibilities it could bring you until the arachnid gave up, surprised you stayed with him for so long by our own will. More than that, Bucky was content with your desire to get rid of your fears and even change the way you thought of him. Maybe it was for the better. Maybe trying giving you a few drops of a potion would help.

When he let you drink water mixed with potion, he was afraid to see the immediate changes, but nothing happened. You stayed in your room, reading the new book Arabella brought you. Your cheeks weren't heated; you gaze was focused on the text; your relaxed body wasn't shaking. It seemed perfectly okay.

Tomorrow morning he gave you three more drops as his older sister had prescribed, and nothing had happened after that, too. Bucky wasn't even sure it made sense to keep giving you the potion, but you said you were feeling a little better, so he believed you. However, the third day you spent solely in the library, not even locking yourself in your room as usual. Apparently, Arabella's advice had been way more useful he had anticipated at first.

The forth day you suddenly asked him to show you his true form. You wanted to give it a try, you said. If you got scared, he could cast a soothing or sleeping speel anyway. Since you were persistent, Bucky eventually gave in, but it didn't end well - you vomited on your own shoes at the sight of his horrifying spider form.

The morning of the fifth day Bucky had fought his desire to pour the whole bottle of potion into your drink and finally see you smiling at him.

The seventh day was better since his sisters visited, taking human form. They brought you gifts - ivory hair comb and hand mirror, pearls and laces. Although you tried refusing their presents because you felt ashamed you could give them nothing in return, they laughed it off: while human traditions required the family of a bride to pay the dowry, arachnids' custom was quite the opposite. You thought the reason was the lack of females in their society, but Bucky's sisters assured you it had nothing to do with it. Actually, they had adopted this tradition from the dark elves who had been their mates from the ancient times. Arabella also told you while the kingdom you belonged to was patriarchal, theirs wasn't much so. She said that despite having seven children - quite a normal thing for a female arachnid - she wasn't the one who would always take care of them as her husband was equally resposible for the brood. He fed them, bathed them, taught them, and brought them to bed just like she did. It sounded almost insane to you.

Then you returned to talk about their marriage traditions, and sisters were excited to tell you how their husbands courted them before they gave their woves. Apparently, all of them except Bucky had been already married.

"You know, the good thing is the courtship period isn't restricted by any laws." Dahlia, the youngest one, said. "While it lasts, a suitor and his family should pamper future bride. When my daughter will grow up, her betrothed will bring her gifts, too."

You tried your best to think of them as humans. Then the talk of their families was much less scary to you as you imagined them wearing beautiful laced silver dresses on the day of their weddings just like women of your kind did. Did arachnids wear dresses at all, despite when they took human form? You doubted it. Their large spider bodies could only be covered with two dozen meters of fabric, and moving with those on top would be too complicated.

You sighed when the doors to your chamber were finally closed as Bucky's sisters left. The deep sense of guilt had long settled in your chest. All of them were kind to you. No one had ever forced you to scrub floors or cook before the sun rises to have the breakfast ready when everyone gonna wake up. You had forgotten how the broom felt in your work-weary hands. Even though you did nothing at all, you were fed, clothed and given whatever you asked for.

Why did it have to be like this? If Bucky had been cruel to you, it would be so much easier to hate him and wish him to die. But now you couldn't. He didn't deserve to be detested only because of his form.

Wiping your tears away, you returned to bed and wrapped your warm blanket under yourself.

____________

"You shouldn't creep on her all the time, brother." Dahlia shook her head disapprovingly. "You don't give her privacy."

"She doesn't know I'm watching her while she's alone." When he protested, Arabella shot him a serious glance.

"Your obsession with her will do neither of you any good. Remember, though humans are not as conscious as us, they can still feel the emotions of others. She'll get scared."

"She's already scared!" He barked at the woman, furious, his hands clenched. "I don't change my form even when I go to sleep. I've stayed like that for the whole week! And she's still frightened. She still doesn't let me touch her. Maybe she never will. The only time I get to see her happy is when she's reading in her chamber all by herself, and you're telling me I can't do even that?"

"Do you know uncle had always been watching your mother, Bucky?" His second oldest sister intervened with her quiet and calm voice, her gentle hand brushing against his tensed shoulder.

The man stilled, his angry expression turning terrified in a matter of seconds. No, he didn't know, or rather didn't think of it much. Although his mother died shortly after giving birth to him, the dark obsession of his father with her was... dreadful. Bucky had never thought his feelings towards you could remind him of that. How could it be? Wasn't he much more gentle? Kind? Human?

"Bucky, you're a good man." He heard Arabella whispering to him softly. "You're better than him, you had always been. But if it continues like that, it will get worse. I told you, give her time. Have patience. She has suffered no less than you did, and she can't help you heal if she hadn't recover herself."

"I want nothing but love her." He said in desperation, covering his face with his huge palms.

"Then trust her. Look, she got so much better she didn't even cry when we came. I know you want her to jump into your arms, but it just doesn't happen that way."

Miria patted his head gently and nodded, agreeing to her older sister. They had slowly regained their huge and shiny spider-like forms right in front of the house Bucky lived in, strangers walking the street nearby paying them no attention as it had been a common magic ritual.

"I have to remind you my husband had spent half a year courting me." The youngest sister said, trying to cheer him up. "And he belongs to the same kind as us. Didn't stop me from believing he would be a terrible husband, though."

Bucky forced a faint smile. It was true, and he remembered how desperate the guy had been when Dahlia refused walking with him in the forests again and again. But she wasn't scared of him; she didn't hate him because he had eight nasty long legs making a terrifying sound when he walked. It was different.

He felt tears gathering in his eyes and blinked, quickly gathering himself. Bucky wasn't pathetic to the point he could goddamn cry in front of his own sisters.

"Thank you for your advice. I will do whatever I can." His voice sounded tired when Arabella dropped a kiss on his cheek and motioned others to follow her to the street.

Soon he was standing outside all by himself, watching the lamppost's flickering light. The nights were growing colder, and he shivered, turning his back to the black gates and marching straight home. He didn't know by the time he entered the hallway you had already consumed one third of the bottle with a love potion Bucky stored in the kitchen.

__________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @navegandoaciegas @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @ladyacrasia @iheartsebastianstan @rosalynshields

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #yandere

[ambivalent-anarchy]

Hurts So Bad... (Part 3)

-

The Week That Flashed By (Part 1/3)

Masterlist

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: For the first time, Peter Parker meets someone he has no idea how to save...

Warning: angst(obviously), mentions of suicide, depression, self-harm, drug use, me just exposing myself

A/N- if you only see Flash as a villain at all times then these chapters ain't for you. Not a lot of Peter this chapter but it's integral to the story so don't skip lol

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maybe he was hoping it'd go away.

Maybe he was wishing for the best.

Maybe he was just disregarding and ignoring you completely.

But for whatever reason, it took Peter a week to finally act. A week.

In the grand scheme of life, a week is incredibly short. However, circumstances can always change the way you perceive things.

When you have an essay due, a week seems to fly by. But when you're waiting for the new episode of your favorite tv to come, a week seems to just drag on.

The normal, busy people don't realize is that when you don't have anything to do, and when you're so far gone into the abyss, a week can genuinely seem like forever.

And your week had been nothing short of endless.

You might've finally been done with the physical low, but the mental low was practically just as bad. You could exert energy without feeling like you'd drop if a feather were to touch your shoulder, but your brain was tired.

On the upside, no one bothered you.

On the downside, no one bothered you.

You hated the silence, but strangely that's what followed you everywhere you went. Deafening silence.

You wanted so much for someone to just talk to you. Talk with you. Even if they were lying. Doesn't matter. You just wanted someone to speak. To have some type of change in your life that forced you out of the mundane, redundant, silent cycle you lived in.

Flash Thomspon was your lab partner.

You'd seen him around. He was hard to miss. Always with his jokes and his livestreams. Forever with a smile on his face. Just like Cecilia.

You remember asking her once why they weren't friends. She'd called him obnoxious.

You wouldn't call him obnoxious though, just... loud.

That Monday when lab partners were chosen, you were completely out of it.

Staring at nothing, not making a sound, setting your head down on the table, obviously not wanting to be bothered by anyone.

So when Flash got to your table, he hadn't bothered you. He walked over, simply looked at you for a bit, and once it was clear you weren't moving any time soon, he started on his notes alone.

Which you respected. That meant he was at the very least a bit sensible, if not just lazy.

The next day wasn't much different. You still weren't up for doing anything and Flash still wasn't up to bothering you.

The day after though, Wednesday, that was the day everything changed.

"Hello?," you said into your phone.

"Hey, is this [Y/N]? That quiet chick in a.p chem?"

You chuckled at the beyond simplistic description of yourself. "Uh, yeah this is she. Who's this?"

"Flash Thompson," he responded. "Coolest guy in the class."

You rolled your eyes. "Mhm, and why are you calling my phone?"

"Well-" you heard a bottle open "-we kinda have a project that's due at the end of the week. And, believe me, as much as I love doing duo projects on my own, you need to do something."

His upfrontness took you aback, but not particularly in a bad way.

And besides, you were getting sick of moping. Your curiosity wanted to see where this was going to go.

"Um, okay. So we'll crack down tomorrow then."

"How about now?" You could practically hear the smirk on his face.

"No," you quickly responded. "You mean come to your house right? Hell no."

"Why not?," he snickered. "Strict parents? Or is the pole really just that far up your ass?"

You rolled your eyes once again. You really didn't have the patience for this. "Okay I'm hanging up-"

"Wait! I'll text you my-" Click.

You stared at the wall for a good minute in complete irritation after that phone call. You had to have lost at least a hundred brain cells during that small conversation. The last thing you needed on your plate right now was some guy giving you shit.

A notification on your phone caught your attention.

3069 Oak Street

"Oh so you text me your address and now I'm just supposed to show up at your door?," you scoffed.

-

In retrospect, ringing that doorbell was probably the smartest dumb thing you ever did.

When you told your parents you were going to a friend's house, they just paused and then smiled. Your parents had no problem at all with you going out. They hadn't even asked questions. Heck they encouraged you to go out. That meant you were trying.

But fuck them. You were trying everyday. Trying not to just take the kitchen knife and slit your wrists after every dinner.

When the door to Flash's house opened you immediately noticed three things.

1) The alleged butler he'd been rumored around school to have was nowhere to be found.

2) This was an extremely nice house. Maybe even nicer than Cecilia's.

3) And Flash's eyes were red.

"Yo!," he greeted with an obnoxious grin. "Wassup?"

"We literally just stopped talking like ten mintues ago dude," you responded as you stepped into the house. "And what's with the shirt?"

This idiot actually had a Spider-Man t-shirt on.

"Excuse me? This is drip in the finest form," he defended, hopping onto his couch. "So anyway, the project or whatever. What're we gonna do for it?"

You sighed. "Well, unless I was actually invisible for all the class periods, it's obvious I wasn't paying much attention the last couple of days."

"Yeah I guess," he chuckled. "What was all that about anyway?," he asked, to which you simply shrugged. He squinted at you, but then rolled his eyes and then picked up the remote for the tv. "Oh well, you're better now, right?"

You winced, but you were glad Flash still wasn't looking your way. "Sure."

"Wanna take off your jacket? You're not outside anymore y'know."

And that's where the problem started.

You didn't know why, but you could look over knowing you were depressed. You'd easily come to terms with it. But it was the small things in normal conversations that hit you harder than anything else. Small little suggestions that you couldn't hide it all from everyone. Hell, you couldn't even take off a damn jacket like everyone else.

"I'm fine," you answered. "So... um, about that project?"

"Yeah," he said leaning forward. "You got the instruction papers or whatever?"

You gave him a look, confused. "I never picked them up. I thought you had the papers."

"I don't fucking pay attention in that boring ass class."

"So what was the purpose of me even coming here if we can't even do anything?," you snapped.

He just shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged again.

Your jaw clenched. Cecilia was right. "Obnoxious dumbass..."

You turned to walk back out of the front door before turning back around. "Hey Flash?"

He looked at you and grunted in acknowledgment.

"Were you just crying before I came in or are you just high?"

"High," he said rather quickly. "Why? Are my eyes red?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

"Fuck," he mumbled. "Want some?"

"Nah I'm good-" But he was already gone down the long hallway of his home. "Flash?"

You stood there, waiting for about five minutes before deciding that he wasn't coming back. Great.

So now you could either go get him, leave, or just continue standing there awkwardly.

And due to your lack of better judgment, you did the most classic horror movie move and walked further into a house that you weren't familiar with to go look for a guy you barely knew. If I die, I die, you thought with a shrug.

Walking into the long hallway the first thing you noticed was the abundance of doors. You weren't a stalker, so you didn't bother to look into any, but you could've swore you saw a room full of spiderman pictures and newspapers through the crack of one of them. Fucking weird.

In an attempt not to succumb to your curiosity, you walked faster down the hall. You stopped in your tracks when you heard sniffles. Whimpering? Whatever noises someone makes when they're crying. Someone was crying, that's for sure. And you were also pretty sure Flash was the only one in the house.

'Walk away [Y/N]. This isn't your business.'

But of course you walked closer, and the sniffles got louder. Until you found yourself opening the door and coming face to face with a crying Flash on the floor in the middle of some gaming room.

"Shit!," he yelled, turning away and attempting to cover up his crying with obnoxiously fake coughing.

"Are you okay?," you asked.

"I'm high," he kept repeating in mumbles, desperately reaching for something. "I'm just high, okay? Fuck."

You watched as he continued to search for whatever he was making it seem like he looking for. You wanted to reach out and maybe say something, anything that would make him feel better. But you knew that probably wouldn't help.

After all, it never helped you.

"I'm just... really fucking high right now, alright?"

He seemed incredibly off, even with the squirrelly, rude way he was being earlier. Like he was just trying too hard at something.

You were at a loss for words. You knew it was wrong, but the only thing you could think of was, hm. Rich boy's actually got some issues.

When he finally turned around, his face was dry and he carried a bong in his hands, lighting it and practically shoving it into his mouth in a weak attempt to cover up his unsteady breathing.

"Thought you left," he said, staring at the floor.

Realizing you'd been standing at the doorframe awkwardly, you moved to sit on the floor, opposite to him. "Well, you kinda offered me some weed and then left, I think."

"I thought I heard you say no though."

"I did..." you gulped. "But..I still stayed though."

And now you sat here with Flash and his bong.

He sat back on the side of the chair, his back leaning against it as he blew out the smoke. "Wanna try?," he offered, holding the small object up to you. He didn't wait for you to respond before setting it up again for you and passing it.

Without a word, you took it and breathed the smoke in. You sucked it up and felt it fill your lungs before leaning back and blowing it out, letting out a small cough afterwards. "Thanks."

"Fuck, you're a pro," Flash chuckled.

You shook your head and shrugged. "No. Common sense just tells you how it works, I guess."

"I feel that."

You hummed in amusement.

And then suddenly it was quiet again.

You fucking hated silence.

Luckily, Flash was a talker. Or so you thought.

At school there wasn't a dull moment if he was there. But now, seeing him in his home, he was quiet as a mouse. Contemplative. Searching.

"Say something," you said, earning a confused look from the boy in front of you.

He squinted. "Say what? I don't even know you."

You rolled yours eyes, shrugging. "Look, whatever was going on before I came in here, it's not my business, man. I only said to fucking speak."

Flash groaned. "About what?"

"I dunno," you answered. "I just don't like the quiet. Say anything you want. Just... talk."

"Um.." he looked up at the ceiling. "I got some new shoes the other day." He pointed at the Jordan's on his feet. "My mother got it shipped in from where she's out on business in Bora Bora."

Something about the way he said it made you sure that she wasn't out "on business".

"My butler is out today cuz it's his niece's birthday. She'd be cute enough, if her nose wasn't so big. It's like the wicked witch of the west."

You scrunched up your nose, imagining a younger version of wicked witch minus the green skin.

"Umm, I dunno uh, chocolate chip cookies are better than sugar cookies?"

You snorted at that. Now he was just thinking of anything.

"And uhh, I'm having spaghetti tonight.. and- well I don't know what you really want dude I'm just kinda.. life is just too boring to always have something to say for every second of every day, [Y/N]!," he suddenly snapped.

"Woah dude, chill." You blew out another round of smoke and handed Flash the bong. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was asking for too much."

He held his hand over his forehead. "Nah you're fine," sighed. "It's just- you ask that cuz I talk alot at school right? Yeah that makes sense I guess. I-I'm sorry," he rushed out before going back to the small contraption.

You'd been snapped at alot in your life. Way too many to count. But from those experiences you gathered a small truth; if someone has snapped at you over the smallest thing, they probably have something else going on. Or most likely a couple of things, piled up and ready to blow.

And you could smell that on Flash from a mile away.

"Flash, what's your real name?"

He paused, lifting his mouth from the bong. "Flash is my real name," he lied before passing it back over to you.

"No it's not," you stated, picking up another bag and the lighter up beside you for the bong, no longer satisfied with the loss of flavor. "I don't pay that much attention but I know for a fact that's not your name."

He rolled his eyes, quickly becoming frustrated with the conversation. "Eugene."

"Nice," you said, contemplating your next move. "So.. what does Eugene feel right now? Not Flash, but Eugene."

He reached over each practically snatched the bong away from you.

"Eugene is feeling annoyed, and frankly aggravated because some girl he barely knows is asking too much of him."

"Hey I'm only asking for what you'll give me," you said, throwing your hands in your defense.

"Well what about you?," he accused. "You're always down in the dumps, staring at the wall, looking all depressed 24/7 so how about you start talking? I mean, are you fucking okay?"

"No," you answered blandly. "Not in the slightest. Your turn. What does Eugene feel, Flash? Is Eugene, quote, 'fucking okay'?"

Flash scoffed. "What're you trying to say, that I'm depressed?"

"I never said that."

"Oh fuck that, you implied it!"

"I didn't-"

"You don't fucking know me, [Y/N]," he spat out, throwing the bong on the floor, watching as you picked it up before the water spilt. "You don't fucking know what I'm going through everyday, so please don't be like everyone else and tell me what I am, okay?!"

Were you being rude prying into his life? Totally.

Had you reached the level of nonchalantness with your and practically anybody else's wellbeing that you really couldn't possibly bring yourself to care? Yes.

And was Flash finally cracking? Completely.

"Flash is fake. And obnoxious. And rude," you deadpanned. "I wanna meet Eugene. See how he's doing."

Flash scoffed, looking for a comeback. You could see the expressions on his face flickering like random. Annoyance. Sadness. Want.

You were no psychologist but anyone with a brain could see what he was going through.

The two of you sat in silence again. But you didn't really mind it this time. You were waiting. Even without actually speaking, Flash was telling you everything about him.

Takes one to know one.

"Eugene's aggravated," he finally said, his eyes becoming watery. "Eugene's fucking angry all the time because people only seem to want Flash." He gave you a bitter smirk before averting his eyes to the ground. But you let him. If that's what was easiest for him, then whatever.

"And people assume things about Eugene all the damn time so eventually he decided -what the hell- he'll just give em what they want. And Eugene's fucking pissed because he knows for a fact that if he were to just disappear, no one would fucking care. His old man would just put him in the ground and everyone would be back to normal before fucking dinner." His breath was heavy and you could see mocha skin begin to turn a dark red. "And most of all he's pissed because he's been able to hide for so long and some girl just strolls in and figures him out."

And now here you were just there with Eugene and his bong.

You'd lost count of how much you'd smoked, and you knew he did too. But it didn't matter.

Nothing did anymore.

Not the pressure from your parents. Not the endless cycle of running through all the motions without actually taking anything in. Not even the stupid project that was worth half your grade that'd brought the two of you together in the first place.

Life was full of nothing just in millions of various forms.

Things dressed up and decorated to seem all fancy and important but in the grand scheme of things were just was worthless as you were.

You looked at Flash's home and all you saw was fancy nothing. Wealthy nothing. And you looked at his clothes and all you could possibly see was nothing.

And looking at Flash, you saw a nothing that was attempting to cover up something.

But looking at Eugene, you saw something.

Sadness. Neglect. Pain.

He was completely naked to you.

"You should probably stop," he mumbled, finally opening his eyes and sitting up a bit. "You're looking at me all weird." He reached for the bong, laying it aside once he grabbed it.

"Is that a bad thing?," you asked.

"No," he responded with a small shrug. "...just scares me is all."

You smirked. The only resemblance of a smile you'd been able to make in a long while. "And how do I, of all people, scare you, Eugene?"

You could see his jaw clench. Could see him debating with himself. Even relaxed from the weed, his eyes still darted around the room, and he was shaking his head the tiniest bit. Finally he looked back at you.

"Because -fucking somehow.. you see me-" a tear rolled down his face. "You actually see me. Not Flash... You see Eugene."

His mother's words rang through his ears like a cautionary tale. Real men don't cry. Don't be weak, like your father...

But he wanted to be. So badly he wanted, just for one moment, to be weak and to be able to fall into someone's arms and not act like he was always okay on his own. To not act like he didn't desperately yearn for someone's compassion. Someone's trust.

Flash was fun. Flash was the cool, funny side character in everyone's story. Flash was the picture perfect of everything he wanted to be.

"-And Eugene's a mess," he let out in a small, quiet sob, his expression not moving, though the tears streamed down his face. "I'm just high... that's why I'm saying all this crap. I'm just being dumb and high. Forget all this. I never said anything okay?"

You wouldn't see him break. Not some girl he just met...

Regardless of how he already felt about you.

He slowly looked back up at your face, fully expecting to see pity or disgust. Instead, your face remained neutral like his, and you were crying too.

"I don't think you're a mess Eugene." You sat up straighter, moved a little closer. "Just hurt."

He gave a bitter chuckle. "Isn't basically everybody?"

You shook your head slightly. "No...at least I don't think so. Everyone goes through something- and then there are those people that, in some sick way, want to be hurting.. but with people like us.." You found yourself grabbing his hand, not even thinking for what reason. You just did. "With us.. it's real. And not some temporary problem," you whispered. "It won't ever stop."

Eugene looked back at you again and it was over for him. He felt small. He felt naked. He felt fucking pure.

And then it happened.

You went in for a hug and he went in for a kiss.

But he made it first... and you didn't push him away.

Feeling his lips on yours.. wasn't bad. It surprised you at first, but ultimately it was pleasant.

He sighed against your lips and you could taste the smoke in between the two of you. You hadn't had much experience with guys before. Practically nonexistent if you were being honest, but that didn't matter. Eugene pressed his kiss firmer on yours, and you began to reciprocate his movements.

He held the side of your head lightly as he pulled away, his face growing further apart from yours the slightest bit. He rubbed his nose against yours. You both closing your eyes.

"Stay here with me," he pleaded softly, his breathing slightly erratic. "I-i won't try anything, I swear. I just..." He sniffed and used his shoulder to wipe away at some of the tears on his cheek. "You really see me. A-and I see you, y'know? And we're just-"

You nodded, taking your hand to run through his hair. "Okay," you whispered. "I'll stay."

A small smile started to break through his tears. "Thank you," he mumbled against your cheek before planting a soft kiss onto it.

Your mind was blank. You couldn't think of more than one thing at a time. But you knew one thing; you wanted to be there. That much you were sure of. You still weren't happy. You weren't safe. Just content with this idea of change.

For once, you weren't overly sure of what you were doing. It wasn't routine.

For once, you felt like something was different.

----------Back on the other side of town-----------

You weren't home.

Peter had finished his patrol, swung to your apartment, and you were nowhere to be found.

"No. N-no please don't do this," he pleaded to himself. "Be in the bathroom. Please just be somewhere. Come on, get in here."

He'd already looked through every window available and he could only hope you were in some inside room. Your bed was completely untouched.

"I should've reached out to you. Fuck! I should've done something. Just please be alive..."

He waited anxiously to see if you'd show, even sending a drone to Cecilia's address to see if you were there in the meantime. "I-I'm so sorry I- just please! Be at a friend's house! Something!"

He didn't even realize how much he was shaking. How much your life was in his hands. If you were dead, he'd never forgive himself.

"She's not at the Gulliver residence, Peter. Are there any other places you'd like for me to check?," E.D.I.T.H asked.

"She's somewhere!," he yelled out. "It's one in the morning on a school night. Find her! Please...."

He looked back toward the window. After while he didn't even know how much time had passed. He was just staring. Waiting for you to walk through that door. And when you never came he could only hope that you'd be at school.

"I'll help you," he whimpered. "Just..please. Please just stay alive long enough for me to try."

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Lmao don't worry y/n won't end up with Flash and this certainly won't end up being a love triangle

Taglist - @eridanuswave, @imahardcase, @jules-and-gemss, @yetchann, @captainamericasdaughter, @starlight-starks, @everydaymj, @rubberducky-jrr, @chiaramrvl, @dreamofaprilsblog, @hello--zuko-here, @spidey-mads, @cuddlefishpeter

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #spiderman x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman #spiderman fic #spiderman mcu #spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker x depressed! reader #hurts so bad #hsb #spiderman x y/n #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fandom #spiderman angst #marvel angst #marvel x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel

[pigsiescribe]

My friends and I like to pop in on humans. Children mostly; sometimes teenagers. Their screams are the most hilarious, and when their parents come to check on them and see nothing under the bed, in their closet or out their window, the child's flabbergasted face is icing on the cake. We never visit the same child twice, of course. That's just cruel and unusual torture. Just one visit, and the kid will never see us again. There's millions of children in the world, so it's not like there's slim pickings.

This was supposed to be like any other scare. I stood ready in a little girl's closet, waiting for her to open the door. When she did, I chattered my many teeth menacingly, placing a clawed hand on her back, as if I was about to steal her away from her home and everyone she knew and loved. I considered myself a master of the silent scare.

"Hello there," the girl said brightly as if I were a little lost kitten. "How did you get in here?"

"Missy! Bath time!" Someone called from elsewhere in the home.

"Coming!" The girl yelled back, but when she turned to face me again, I was already gone.

***

"She wasn't scared of you?!" One of my buddies exclaimed in absolute disbelief. In our experience, infants and toddlers were not always so easily scared if they thought we posed no threat, but that girl--that "Missy"--was definitely school age and therefore had a sense of right and wrong when facing strange creatures. While she had one mouth with maybe four fangs at most, I had four mouths, all full of fangs. While her body was plump and soft, mine was slimy and sinewy, my ribcage poking out the sides. While she had two arms, two hands, two legs and two feet, each with five digits on the ends, I had six arms and legs, each with an appendage that had four long red claws that acted as digits. Surely her instincts would tell her there was something very wrong with me, and that I was a creature to be feared.

"Was she wearing spectacles?" I shook my head. "Perhaps she did not see you properly."

Regardless, my friends would check on her themselves, practically burning with morbid curiosity. Perhaps I wasn't the most terrifying creature Missy had ever seen. Maybe she suffered from trypophobia and would scream at the sight of my friend with a hundred eyes? Or maybe she suffered from pteronophobia and would wail at my friend with feathers? Or maybe she suffered from apiphobia and would cry at the sight of my black and yellow striped friend with a stinger?

Night after night, a friend would visit the little Missy. Night after night, they would report that she had not batted an eye at their presence. She asked my friend with a hundred eyes what he would do if he needed glasses. She asked my friend with the feathers if she could keep one, apparently impressed with his plummage. She asked my striped friend with the stinger if he liked flowers and what was his favorite. But there was one question she asked of each of my friends, and it was always the same.

"Can you ask the green one if he'll come and see me again, please?" So polite.

There technically wasn't anything preventing me from seeing her again, other than our unspoken rule of not terrorizing children, but as it was clear that she wasn't even slightly unnerved by my presence, what harm could there be at this point?

***

I appeared in her closet once more. She squealed at the sight of me. I thought for a moment I had finally horrified her, but she grabbed one of my appendages and jumped happily. "You're here! You're here! You're here! You're here! You're here!"

"Missy? Who are you talking to?"

"No one, Daddy!" Missy quickly fibbed to her parent before turning to me. "I'm supposed to be in bed," she admitted, "but we can talk for a little. I'm not sleepy yet." I agreed. "I'm Missy. What's your name?"

I didn't think she would be able to pronounce my name, so I asked her what she would like to call me. After a moment, she decided on "Emerald," because I was a "pretty green," just like the precious stone. She walked me over to her bed and laid down, looking at me with adoring eyes

I like to visit her still, even in the daytime so long as she is by herself, which was often. She lacked companions because (as she explained) "girls are not supposed to like scary things, like bones and monsters and spiders. Girls are supposed to like butterflies and princesses and sparkles." She hated the interior of her bedroom; so bright and colorful and pink. She hated that she had to make her own toys--ones she would actually WANT to play with--and hide them from her parents, lest they confiscate the playthings. She hated having to visit someone called a "counselor," and a "therapist," because they would ask her if there was anything wrong, when she would make it quite clear there wasn't anything wrong. There were some days she even hated her name, and would much prefer her middle name "Robin," since that wasn't "so girly."

I struggle to grasp human normative behaviors (I'm starting to see my culture is more lackadaisical than hers), but I try to offer the best advice I can. She told me once about a girl at school who will get physically violent, then tell the teachers that it was just an accident to avoid punishment. I suggested she fight back, as the peaceful route was proving pointless. Apparently, "girls aren't supposed to fight," according to her parents before they grounded her to her bedroom. She insists my advice is better than anything a counselor or therapist ever said to her.

While I'm aware that it will mean less time to spend with me, I do hope Missy--sorry, Robin--will make friends with her own kind soon. Until then, I will be there for her.

#writeblr #storyblr #monster OC #short story #fantasy story #Missy OC #I got permission from Chernabog to post his art here #the second one is my personal art