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gejo333 · 10 months

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A Misunderstanding ll

Father Miguel O’Hara x Mother Spider-Woman

Part l Part III

Summary: Your relationship with Miguel was doing amazing. But when you find out your pregnant Miguel begins to close himself off . You decide it’s best not to tell him and end things. But what happens when you see him again after five years and learns that he is a father?

The wait is finally over!!! Here is part 2!!!

I can’t believe I reached 100 followers!!! Thank you for all the likes, comments, reblogs, and recommendation to this fic!!!💕💕💕

I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed I posted this at 2 am my time.

Enjoy!🤗

Wc: 4k

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The orange and white monitors flickered between worlds as red irises scanned the various universes. His eyes calm down to his normal mahogany brown as he gazes at the various photos and videos of you and him.

Almost six years since he last held you in his arms. Last time he heard your sweet voice. How your laughter filled a room. When he pleasured you, your moaning was music to his ears.

His tired gaze stared at a video of you and him when the both of you went to the beach. You held the phone as it faced the two of you, sitting between his legs, resting against his chest. His lips twitched upwards into a small smile as he watched you change the filters from bunny ears to kitty ears on both of you. He rolled his eyes in the video at your cute antics as he held you in his arms, giving you a loving kiss on the cheek before the video ended.

Every moment he thinks of you reminds him of how much he messed up. Why did he distance himself from you? If he only opened up to you like you tried to do multiple times. He pushed you further away until he couldn’t shatter your heart into smaller pieces.

He wished he had run after you. He wished he had gone to your earth and pleaded for you to stay with him. But after you ended things, he broke down and drowned himself in work.

“Miguel?” Jess walked in.

“What?” He lightly snapped, not wanting to be disturbed.

“I’m taking Gwen on her first mission. I was just checking in to see if her watch is ready.” Jess swung up to his platform to grab the watch.

“Make sure she doesn’t break it again.” Miguel tossed it to her, which she caught with ease. Jess glanced at the monitor of you and him. A sigh escaped her lips.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t. How about you come on this mission with us? Show Gwen some of your skills.”

“I’m busy monitoring the multiverse. I can’t be bothered with menial missions just to teach a rookie a few tricks.” He rolled his eyes.

“I thought you would be interested in going on this specific mission because we’ll be going to y/n’s Earth.” Jess jumped down as she began to walk out.

“What did you say?” Miguel snapped as he turned around and jumped down, walking right up to her.

“I just thought you could use this excuse to finally see her.” Miguel glared down at her before finally giving in as he sighed.

“It’s been almost six years Jess. She probably has moved on by now. Why would she want to see me after all these years?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try. Just come on the mission and make up your mind there.” Miguel pondered what Jess said. His heart yearned to see you again. But his mind was making him panic. What if she doesn’t want to see me?

“I’ll go.”

…

The mission was very simple as only a random person appeared and needed to be sent back. He would have stayed back at HQ if this wasn’t your world.

“I’ll see you back at HQ. Go get her back.” Jess said as she looked over at Miguel, who huffed as he swung away from her and Gwen.

“What’s he doing?” Asked Gwen.

“He’s going to see an old friend.” Jess looked at the direction Miguel went off to before heading back to HQ.

It only took minutes to get to for him to get to your apartment. However, time felt like it was moving in slow motion as he walked into your apartment complex and up the elevator to your floor.

33B, your apartment number. He dissolved his suit to appear in his casual clothing. His chest hurt as he felt his heart pound against it. Taking a second to calm his breathing, he knocked on your door.

In seconds the door opened wide as he was met with your surprised gaze. Even after almost six years, you still looked the same. The same gorgeous woman he fell for when he first laid his eyes on you. He wished he could wrap you in his arms and hold you. Capture your sweet soft lips with his.

“Miguel?” Hearing your soft voice again melted his cold heart.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you stare up at him. Butterflies came to life in your stomach by seeing him again in person. He looked the same, except for his frame. He was a lot bigger the last time you saw him. After the breakup, he must have begun working out even more. Your heart dropped when you thought that he might be seeing someone new. Cheeks dusted pink as you move your gaze briefly away before looking back at those brown eyes you fell in love with years ago.

“There was an anomaly reported on your earth.” His response made you frown as you hoped he would come here to see you.

“Oh, do you need help with it? I’ve been pretty busy lately, so I haven’t been Spiderwoman in a bit.”

“Jess and I have already finished the mission. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, I see. Then why are you here?” You ask again for his reason. Miguel’s gaze darted to different parts of your living room, having difficulty gazing at you without kissing you. You can see he was nervous as you could see his chest rise and fall faster than normal.

Suddenly, his gaze moved to you as he took your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. A shiver went up your spine as his hand swallowed yours. You felt like a schoolgirl again by him only holding your hand.

“I want to talk. I missed you, Y/n.” You felt the butterflies in your stomach become wild. He missed you like you missed him. But why did it take him so long to come see you? Why did he wait so long? You were suddenly reminded why you were heading out. You remove your hand from him as you pick up the things you dropped.

“I-I have to go.” You move out into the hallway with him as you close and lock the door. Moving past him, Miguel gently grabbed your arm.

“Y/n, please don’t ignore me. I really want to talk.” His voice was stern, yet his gaze looked desperate.

“I-I do want to talk, but I have to go.” You sigh as you remove your arm from his grasp. Pressing the elevator button, you walk in as it opens. Before it closed, Miguel pushed it back, walking in.

“Can’t we talk on your way?” He stood in front of you as you backed yourself against the wall. He walked closer, inches apart from each other. His gaze moved from your eyes to your lips, then back. Before, you would have a quick make-out session if no one walked in. He would have pinned you against the wall, arms wrapped around each other and tongues down each other’s throats.

“Fine.” You sighed as you turned your gaze from him. You could see in his eyes how he recalled your heated sessions in this same elevator years back. Walking out of the elevator with Miguel by your side, your nerves began to skyrocket.

You were on your way to pick up Mateo. Miguel’s son, that he didn’t know about. Checking the time on your phone you had 10 minutes to get there. Luckily, Mateo’s school was only a 5-minute walk away from your apartment.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for distancing myself from you back then. For becoming cold towards you when you only tried to help me.” His words brought you out of your thoughts as you looked at him.

“I know that time of the year is really hard on you. But you didn’t have to shut me out. I was your girlfriend.” He looks back at you before looking ahead.

“I know. I wish I could take it back.”

“I’m sorry too. You were going through a dark time. I should have stayed by your side. But I didn’t have that much time to wait for you back then.” You stopped now in front of Mateo’s school.

“What do you mean by that?” Miguel’s brows furrowed, followed by a frown, confused by your last words. You take a deep breath as you look up at him.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Please wait here.” You say as you turn from him and walk into the school doors. You walk down the hall and see other parents picking up their kids. You see Mateo blabbering to another kid as you get to the room before he notices you.

“Mommy!” Mateo runs up to you as you lift him up into your arms.

“Hi baby, how was your first day?” You wave to his teacher before walking back down the hall.

“It was amazing! We drew our favorite animals, and we got to play games all day!” You smiled as he told you about his day.

“I can’t wait to hear more about it. Someone is waiting for us outside.” You tell him. Your last words perked his interest as he gave you a surprised look.

“Who is it?!”

“You’ll see in a second.” You set him on the ground and hold his hand as you walk out the front doors. You sigh in relief as Miguel is still waiting, but it is soon replaced with worry as you see Miguel’s eyes widen as he doesn’t move his gaze from Mateo.

You walk up to Miguel, and his gaze finally meets you again before returning to Mateo, who hides behind your leg. You knew it would only take him seconds to figure it out by how much he looks like him.

“How old is he?” Miguel breaks the silence.

“5 years and 6 months.” You answer him. Your gaze looks at your surroundings as other parents obviously glance over. “Is it possible if we can continue this back at the apartment? People are sort of staring.” Miguel nods his head before you walk back to the apartment.

Unlocking the door, Mateo runs in, throwing his bag in the living room. You turn to face Miguel, who is still standing at the entrance.

“You can come in. I won’t bite.” You smile at him. He chuckles at your response as he walks fully into the living room.

“He’s mine?” He asked as a question even though he knew the answer. You bite your lip as you nod your head. Your affirmation made his heart race again. He had a son. The same boy walked back into the living room, hiding his face in your leg.

“Can I?” Miguel looked at Mateo.

“Hey, Mateo. This is Miguel. Your father.” You tell your son as you comb your fingers through his hair to make him feel more comfortable. Mateo looks up at you before looking at Miguel.

Miguel kneels to the ground as Mateo slowly moves from your leg. You gently guide him to Miguel.

“Hi.” Mateo shyly speaks.

“Hi, Mateo.”

“Can I call you Dad?” Your eyes widened slightly at Mateo’s sudden question. A large smile appears on Miguel’s face.

“Of course, you can.” Air comes back to your lungs as if you were holding your breath. You can see Mateo’s face beam as he hugs Miguel. At first, surprised, Miguel hugs him back as he stands back up, holding him in his arms. Tears brim the corner of your eyes. You never thought this day would happen.

“Wow! You’re so big! You’re way taller than Mommy.”

“That is true, Papi.” Miguel chuckled as he looked over to you. You walk over to Mateo and lightly pinch his cheek before kissing him on the same spot, which makes him giggle.

Miguel looked at you and his son with so much love. He had a family again. He was going to do everything he could to win you back.

“Are you married to Mommy?” Mateo’s sudden question surprised both of you. Your cheeks redden as you look away from Miguel, who turns his head to hide his small blush.

“How about you go and play with your toys in your room? Hmm?” You tell Mateo.

“Aww, but I want to stay here.” Mateo pouts as he crosses his arms.

“You should listen to your mama, Mateo.” Miguel set him to the ground. You had yo admit, having another person back you up when your son was acting stubborn was nice.

“Can I show him my room first?” He pleads with you.

“Alright. But as soon as you do, you’ll let us talk?”

“Yay!” Mateo grabs Miguel’s hand and pulls him to his room. His hands felt so small and delicate in his large hands.

You lean on the doorframe as you smile at the sight before you. Mateo showed Miguel his favorite stuffed animals and toys as the two conversed about race cars and other things that came from your five-year-old’s mind. After a few minutes, you gently brush your hand against Miguel’s shoulder. Turning to you, he stood back to his full height.

“Ok Mateo. Your papa and I have to go talk now.”

“Aw, ok.” Mateo pouts as he sits on his race track carpet with a few of his stuffed animals in hand.

“If you’re good and don’t bother us. I’ll let us get pizza for dinner tonight.” At the mention of pizza Mateo jumps up and down in joy before going back to play with his toys.

Both you and Miguel leave his room. You walk to your bedroom, letting him in before closing the door.

“I didn’t think I could get you to the bedroom this quick, cariño.” Miguel chuckled.

“I did it so we can talk in private. But still, be close to him just in case.” You roll your eyes playfully, trying to hide your smile from his comment.

The silence grew in the room before Miguel had enough and broke it.

“Did you end things because you were pregnant?”

“Yes.” You looked away from his gaze as you felt guilty.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice lowered barely above a whisper. You still heard as you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before exhaling. You had some speculation that if Miguel ever came to find you, you would have this conversation.

“I tried telling you. But you were so distant from me. I couldn’t find the right time to tell you. I stopped trying after you said you didn’t want to have any more kids anymore after…after Gabriella. I was afraid that you wouldn’t want to be a father again if I told you.” Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you tried so hard to hold them in. You look back at Miguel as he tries to remember what he said back then. His eyes suddenly widen slightly before he looks back at you with regret. He walks slowly over to you.

“Did that happen on Gabi’s birthday?” Miguel forced the question out. Even as years go by, his heart still aches at the reminder of his daughter.

“Yes. You said, ‘The thought of having another child is unbearable. I couldn’t handle the pain again if something happened.’” You remembered his words exactly, as they stayed engraved into your mind all these years. You couldn’t stop the tears from running down your cheeks.

“I-I didn’t mean to say I never wanted children again. I was so grief-stricken back then. I wasn’t thinking about what I was saying. If only I didn’t say those words. I would have been there with you. Seeing Mateo grow up.” Miguel sat on your bed, hands covering his face as he drowned in regret. You sit next to him as you move his hands from his face and guided his chin to look at you.

The tears continued to come out as you saw his eyes become glossy. “I’m so sorry you weren’t there for Mateo’s first five years. If you want, you can still see him grow up.”

“Of course I want to watch him grow up. I want to be in his life. But I want to be in your life too.” His last words caught you off guard. Miguel leaned in to kiss you, but you covered his lips with your hand. He pulled back, a frown evident on his face.

“Do you not want me back, amor?

“I do, Miguel. But I can’t rush right back into it. It’s been almost six years. And we only were together for six months before. Plus, let’s have Mateo get used to you being around first before putting our relationship on him too.”

“Alright. I’ll be patient but not that patient.”

“Let’s just see how the first week goes.” You put your hand out for him to shake in agreement. He gave you a deadpan look before taking your hand. However, instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and gently kissed the bottom of your wrist.

“Miguel…” You playfully roll your eyes. He kisses your wrist one more time before smirking.

“Alright, alright. I’ll play nice. For now.” You playfully hit his chest, which makes him chuckle as you both leave your bedroom and walk into the living room. Since Mateo didn’t disrupt your conversation, you decided to order a pizza.

“Do you still like pepperoni?” You ask Miguel as you sit next to him on the couch.

“Sí.” He replied as he scooched closer to you on the couch. You noticed but ignored it as you continued ordering the pizza online.

“Momma!” Mateo said as he ran to the living room.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Can I watch my cartoons?”

“Of course.” Mateo sits on the floor in front of the tv as you grab the remote to turn it to the right channel.

As the cartoons played, Mateo would explain the characters to Miguel whenever a new one appeared on the screen. You didn’t realize how close on the couch Miguel had gotten, arm resting behind you on the sofa, until you heard your phone buzz.

Picking it up, your eyes widen when you see a text from a certain person.

“Whose that?” Asked Miguel.

“Just someone.” Miguel frowned at your vague answer, understanding why.

“Who is he?”

“Just a guy from when I was at a mommy and me group.”

“Are you seeing him?” You can hear the jealousy come out in his voice.

“Well, no. There were only two dates.”

“What does the text say?”

“He was just asking how Mateo’s first day was.” You said, “and asking for a third date.” You quickly added, which widened Miguel’s eyes as he turned to look at you, slightly upset.

“Well, you should tell him you’re not single anymore.”

“Miguel…” your tone turns serious with his response.

“It’s eventually going to happen, amor. So why string this man along when he can’t have you?” You roll your eyes at him. You decide to ignore the texts until you know what to say.

Thankfully the doorbell rang, indicating the pizza was here. Miguel got up from the sofa and opened the door. Grabbing the pizza and thanking the delivery man before closing the door.

Miguel brings it to the kitchen as you follow, grabbing two plates and then a plastic one for Mateo. After getting slices onto the plates, you go back to the living room. You hand Mateo his plate, which he cheers and says thank you in excitement before chomping down.

“I forgot your earth has the best pizza,” Miguel said as he took a bite.

“It really does. You remember that mission we went on that had that awful pizza with lobster and strawberries as toppings?” You cringe at the memory of you and Miguel stopping to grab food after fighting an anomaly and being horrified by what the locals called a delicacy.

“I do remember that. I’ve never tasted more disgusting food in my life.” He cringes at the memory alongside you. “Do you ever think about HQ?” He glanced over at you.

“Yeah, I do. I miss it a lot, actually. Seeing everyone and going on missions. Everyone came to me begging me to report their mission to you if it went bad.” You laugh at the last part.

“Everyone still misses you. A lot has changed since you were last there. There are more spider recruits, so the halls are always busy. Peter B remarried MJ, and they have a baby now. Jess and her husband are expecting one too. Some new teenage spiders annoy the hell out of me daily. Specifically, a guy named Hobie. He never listens and loves to get on my nerves.” Miguel’s fangs come out, annoyed by the thought of the rebellious spiders. Thankfully Mateo was facing away from him to not see the fangs.

“It would be nice to see everyone again. And to meet new faces.” You smile at Miguel’s reaction.

“Come with me tomorrow. After dropping Mateo off at school.” He looks at you, waiting for a response.

“I would love that, actually.” You say, which brings a huge smile to Miguel’s face.

“Sounds like a date.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m only kidding.” He holds his hands up in defense.

After finishing the pizza and watching more cartoons, you realize it’s way past Mateo’s bedtime. Looking over at your son, you see him dozed off on the floor. You go to pick him up, but Miguel places his hand on your arm as he picks up Mateo easily.

You both walk to his room as Miguel tucks him into bed as Mateo already is wearing his PJs.

“Buenas noches mi hijo.” Miguel whispered to Mateo before placing a kiss on his head. After he stands up, you brush some of Mateo’s hair out of his face as you kiss his forehead.

“Sweet dreams.” You say before getting up and turning off the light before closing his door.

After Miguel finishes cleaning the dishes, he walks into your bedroom, where he is handed a pillow and blanket.

“What is this for?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked back at you.

“For you.” You say.

“Y/n, don’t make me sleep on the couch. I would be much more comfortable sleeping in here with you.” Miguel pouts as he sets it on your desk.

“Miguel. We are not together.” You remind him.

“But we will be. So why not start slowly by letting me sleep with you. Plus, I’ll hurt my neck by sleeping on the sofa.” You pondered his words. He was right. He was too big to sleep comfortably on the couch. A sigh escaped your lips.

“Ok, fine. You can sleep with me. But only sleeping! Any funny business, and you’re heading straight to the living room.”

After getting ready for bed, you slip underneath the covers. You watch as Miguel takes off his shirt showing his chiseled body. You hide your face in your pillow so he wouldn’t see your red face.

You feel the bed dip as Miguel gets under the covers lying beside you. The lights were off, only the moonlight lighting up the room. Your gaze meets his. You start to fall into a trance as the moonlight reflects perfectly off of him, staring straight into his mix of brown and red eyes.

You didn’t realize he had wrapped his arm around your waist, bringing you closer. Your bodies now only centimeters apart. He cupped your cheek with his other hand as he leaned down before capturing your lips with his.

You missed feeling his lips on yours. The kiss lasts a few more seconds before your lips sadly part. Moving your gaze from his lips to his eyes, you see them cloud into a lustful gaze.

You are suddenly brought back to reality as you lightly glare at him.

“Go to the couch. Now.”

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100% there will be a part 3! I love this storyline too much.

Hope you enjoyed part two💕

Tag List! (comment if you wanted to be tagged to this fic)

@crowleysthings

#miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel x reader #oneshot #oneshot requests #jessica drew #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x y/n #gwen stacy #mother reader #romance #spider woman #peter benjamin parker #peter b parker #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown

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justapoet · 10 days

Text

Random dialogue prompt list

"Have you ever been in love?" "No. Why?" "I think I'm in love with you."

Distancing themself from the other because they start to think that there is definitely something wrong with them

Stuttering

"I missed you so much, I don't know why. But, I did."

"You look perfect in this outfit." "Oh."

“Tell me you did not go to a fight without me.” “I don’t need you to protect me.” “It’s not about protection-”

"Did you forget that it was your turn to grab the groceries today?" "Yeah, sorry. I thought I'd wait for you so we can go together?"

“The problem lies within the fact that I want more. That’s what scares me the most, because I don’t want to want more. But I can’t help it.”

“You said you loved me last night.”

“So that confession…” “Didn’t mean shit ‘cause I was drunk. And I don’t want you accepting that. Let me confess to you, properly, at the least.”

“I swear I didn’t murder anyone.”

"Who are you when you're not performing?" "Fuck. Marry me."

“You have the most beautiful smile, you know that?”

“I just want(ed) to make you smile.”

“I was just getting my coffee, but then I fell in love with you”

"I…I missed you." "Oh."

“I desperately want to kiss you.”

“Maybe it’s a good mood. Maybe it’s a manic episode.”

"Don't open your eyes"

"Goddammit, don't say that!"

“Fuck it. I’m in.”

“Too late. I’m already yours.”

“Nothing - no matter how weird or dark - could ever change the way I feel about you.”

“For once, I’m completely serious.”

“I don´t believe that you know what the hell you are doing half of the time.”

“There isn’t a single unit of thought behind your eyes.” “Of course, not. I’m looking at you. My brain doesn’t work when I’m looking at you.”

"Are we going to talk about it?"

“I’d tear down mountains and rewrite the stars just to see you smile.”

“You weren’t part of my life plan.”

“So, tell me, what do you feel for me?”

“I’m this close to resorting to physical violence if shit continues to not work out.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Say another word and I´ll shove these fries down your throat.”

“Could you even try to be nice to me today?”

“There are about thirty-five ways this could go wrong. I’d say that’s pretty good odds.”

"Are you seriously considering to go through with this complete absurd?"

"It's a miracle you're still alive." "Mom does say you're a miracle worker, yes."

"You're sick. Did the fever make you forget how to dial my number?"

"Just do it, you moron."

"My self-control is hanging by a thread right now. Please, don't do this to me."

“Hey, neighbour, I’ve never met you before but your dog just destroyed my garden."

“Well, I’m afraid that opinion’s going to change once you get to know me.”

"Ever thought of stepping outside, or have you become part of the furniture?"

"Can you just look at me? Please?"

"I needed to hear your voice."

“Just to clarify: We are in a relationship, right?”

"You're the only thing I should be afraid of, and that fear died off years ago."

“it’s a bit frustrating to how oblivious you are.”

“what do i have to do or say for you to notice that i’m in love with you?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t supposed to happen and I was not supposed to say that, I’m so sorry.”

so, hi! this is just a silly prompt list, but I'd very much like to ask you to send me asks and resquest a fic from any of them!

I'll be writing for the following couples:

Buddie (9-1-1)

Percabeth (Percy Jackson)

Nick and Chalie (Heartstopper)

Aziracrow (Good Omens)

Polin (Bridgerton)

Kathony (Bridgerton)

If you have any other couples from these universes that you might want, you can send them to me, as well. Other than Buddie (that it's not canon just yet), I like best to only write canon couples.

#prompt list #dialogue prompts #my writing #send me requests!#requests are open #percabeth #buddie #heartstopper #aziracrow #polin #kathony #bridgerton #percy jackson #good omens #911 on abc #fic requests

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nattikay · 1 month

Text

so in my previous post the other day I mentioned in the tags that I recently saw an OC name that was a string of five consonants followed by a single vowel and was baffled on how it was meant to be pronounced. I’m not going to say what the name was because I don’t want the person to feel called out—this post is not meant to be a criticism nor tutorial/lesson nor rant—just pure autistic rambling about this silly little interest of mine.

anyways, that name got me thinking: how many consonants could you put next to each other in a Na'vi word/name while still being phonetically valid? Well, I guess that depends on whether you’re counting by phonemes or letters.

First let’s go very briefly over basic Na'vi syllable structure: every syllable must contain one vowel or diphthong or pseudovowel. The syllable may optionally start and/or end with a consonant. Up to two consonants can cluster at the beginning of the syllable (there are some more specific rules for this but we’ll save that for later), but not at the end. Here’s some examples (remember that tìftang (') is considered a consonant):

taron - [ta][ron] ikran - [ik][ran] 'itan - ['i][tan] oare - [o][a][re] snafpìlfya - [sna][fpìl][fya]

Based on these rules, under the right conditions (a syllable that ends in a consonant followed by a syllable that begins with a cluster) you can string up to three consonants together and still be valid (note that you need at least two syllables to do this! The string of lfy in snafpìlfya works because the l and the fy belong to separate syllables! You would not be able to have all three together like that in a single syllable.)

BUT! What if instead of counting by phoneme, we count by letter? Let’s talk about something called digraphs. A digraph is when two letters are used to represent a single phoneme. For example, in English, th is a digraph: it’s not a t-sound and an h-sound right next to each other, but rather its own unique sound.

Na'vi uses a total of 11 digraphs: the consonants kx, px, tx, ts, and ng; the diphthongs ay, aw, ey, and ew; and the pseudovowels rr and ll. Sometimes the letters used in these digraphs can also be used separately (for example, with ts, both t and s are valid on their own), but sometimes they can’t—x is NEVER used outside of kx/px/tx, and g is never used outside of ng in the forest dialect (it can stand on its own in the reef dialect though, as long as it’s at the beginning of a syllable).

Let’s look at some more examples, but this time with words that use digraphs:

nantang - [nan][tang] tskxekeng - [tskxe][keng] flrrtsawl - [flrr][tsawl]

More specifically, let’s compare the words fnan and skxawng. Both these words have the same number of phonemes: f-n-a-n and s-kx-aw-ng, but because skxawng uses almost nothing by digraphs, it has nearly twice the letters! The only way to make it longer would be to replace that first s with a ts, thus giving you the longest possible syllable in terms of letters (tskxawng).

Why specifically ts instead of one of the other digraphs? Well, I mentioned briefly before that there are rules on how consonants are allowed to cluster, so let’s go over those real quick:

If you want to start your syllable with a single consonant, you can use any consonant you want. But if you want to start your syllable with a cluster, the first phoneme MUST be f, s, or ts (yes only those three), and the second phoneme MUST be l, k, kx, m, n, ng, p, px, t, tx, w, or y. The second phoneme cannot be f, h, s, ts, v, z, or tìftang. So for example:

fmi works, but not pmi tskxe works, but not ngkxe stawm works, but not ktawm flrr works, but not fvrr fngap works, but not ftsap syaw works, but not s'aw

Now, while any single consonant can start a syllable, only certain consonants are allowed to end one (and remember, clustering can only happen at the start, not the end).

The consonants that can end a syllable are: k, kx, l, m, n, ng, p, px, r, t, tx, and tìftang.

The consonants that cannot end a syllable are: f, s, ts, h, v, w, y, and z. So for example:

Tul works, but not tuz Kin works, but not kif Zup works, but not zuh Srung works, but not sruts Pam works, but not pas

Now, remember that this is for individual syllables. A word can have multiple syllables. Sruts is not a valid syllable, but something srutsen could still be a valid word because it is two syllables: [sru][tsen]

You might also see syllables like maw or pay that look like they end in w or y, but these still work because remember that the w and y in these words are not standalone consonants but part of the diphthong digraphs; the phoneme breakdown is not m-a-w but rather m-aw. So, maw works but not mow, pay works but not puy, etc.

There are also some special rules for pseudovowels. If you use a vowel or diphthong, starting and/or ending your syllable with a consonant is optional: a, ma, mak, ak, ey, mey, meyk, and eyk are all valid syllables.

But if you use a pseudovowel instead, the syllable MUST start with a consonant (remember that tìftang counts as a consonant) but CANNOT end with one. So 'rr, mrr, wll, etc. are valid, but not rr, srrk, plln, etc.

SO! With all that in mind! How are we gonna create our consonant monster word? We know that it’s gonna be impossible to have more than three consonant phonemes strung together, but we can mess around to get a whole lot more individual letters.

We’re gonna want to use as many digraphs as we can, so we’ll want to use either diphthongs or peusdovowels in the vowel slots. Syllables with pseudovowels can’t end in additional consonants so let’s use a diphthong for the first syllable, but diphthongs are spelled with a vowel first so let’s use a pseudovowel for the second syllable.

We’ll want a cluster at the beginning of the second syllable, and let’s use ts as the first phoneme since that’s the only digraph allowed in that position.

The beginning of the first syllable doesn’t really matter because there’ll be a vowel breaking up the chain anyways, but let’s digraph-cluster that one too just for the heck of it to make the word even more cursed. Let’s go ahead and tack a third syllable on the end as well, a short single-vowel one, because why not.

That leaves us with something like:

Tskxayngtsngrra

string of y-n-g-t-s-n-g-r-r, nine “consonant” letters in a row!! (albeit still only three consonant phonemes: ng-ts-ng). Syllable breakdown is [tskxayng][tsngrr][a].

absolute hot mess, but still technically valid! 🙃 lol

#lì'fya leNa'vi #does anyone care? probably not but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#maybe I will record the pronunciation of the cursed word later (it’s actually not as bad as it looks lol)

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milknhonies · 4 months

Text

The Spirit of Christmas Eve

Masterlist || Chapter 1 ll Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: After an unexpected visit from your younger, overly pregnant and concerned sister- you are yet again put into a terrible mood. You receive a night visit from the ghost of your predecessor and fall into an abyss of confusion.

Pairing: Chris Evans x f!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Disrespect to Homeless People, R4pe Fantasies, Masturbation, Dark Joke about Abortion, Hinted Xenophobia, Humiliation, Ghosts, Swearing, Alcoholic Use, Drug Use, Classism.

Word Count: 5k

Author Notes: This is a parody of the classic "A Christmas Carol" story by Dickens, I hope you come to enjoy it even though the pov holds cruel, toxic and abusive traits.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

09:00am, 24th December 2023, New York City.

Oh how you hated the holidays. You hated the red and green colouring, you hated the carolling groups and bands singing every day in December leading up to the wretched twenty fifth. You hate the baby Jesus in a manager nativity set ups.

‘Jesus wasn’t even fucking born on Christmas. He was a January baby according to Jewish scholars. It was all a ploy to satisfy and celebrate Yule with pagans before encouraging indoctrination!!’

And the smell of peppermint, gingerbread and fatty sugary foods left you feeling sickly.

“Unnecessary calories to dissolve the enamel of my teeth when it comes back up in the goddamn toilet.”

The cold air and the slippery frost brought you no delight. Along the way you would kick the snow men in your walking path. You despised the bratty children sitting on the Santa laps in the malls.

‘Their parents should know half of those fat ass Santa actors are just paedophiles getting their kicks once a year? Yea I’d love a little boy all prim and plump to sit on my lap if I was a sicko in a red suit too.’

You hated the fact they were bringing Christmas trees in the day after Halloween.

“Sure, it spins the wheel of capitalism but God, do they have to look so trashy? Christmas is once a year, not two months long.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you strutted the street to your work place.

Your senior associate Marlene who you could’ve considered your friend had a heart attack early that year. She was a woman in her prime, at forty years old she had managed to build her business empire. No husband, no kids, no pets. She didn’t need those things, not when she raked in over four million dollars a year. She drank and smoked like a chimney, you wondered if it contributed to her death in the end. She was rumoured to be found naked, getting fucked by some no name sexy twenty-one year old playboy from South Korea. And among her blissful orgasm, her heart just couldn’t handle the pressure and faltered.

Imagine his horror. Balls deep and not knowing she had died. Little shit tried getting her money in the inheritance scheme. He tried pushing that he was her long committed boyfriend. One threat to the immigration department sent that kid running for the kills back to Seoul.

You were named successor in her Will. Now, it’s not like you needed her millions, you already had a full pocket. At twenty five you’d made your first million all because you picked the right pattern in your investments and put every cent into them. You worked instead of partied. And many had said behind your back that it made you a miserable sourpuss bitch with no friends. You didn’t need friends. Marlene was just a funny coincidence.

Some might have called you careless, impulsive, and greedy. But what that translates to you was the word ‘Wealth and Success’. You were wealthy and money made you happy. The more numbers, the more joy in your cold heart.

You entered the building that was now yours. Oh did I forget to remind you...you were the CEO of your tax collecting firm. I think that’s important for you to know.

Entering the sleek grey, white and black minimalist foyer you sighed in relief. No Christmas or holiday bullshit in here. You had banned all decorations and affiliations.

And you refused paid leave to anyone asking not to work on Christmas day. You remember scoffing last night at the amount of requests you had received about time off for the holidays.

‘I’m running a business, not a charity.’

Christmas was the best time of year for your job. So many stupid people take out stupid loans they can’t afford especially during the holidays period when gift giving is the centre cause of financial stress. You got a thrill out of denying loans and upping payment interest rates for those suckers who didn’t make their payments on time because they chose to spend the money meant to be going into your pocket on some disposable wrapping paper and a cheap pharmacy gift last minute.

As you stepped into the elevator you smiled cynically at the empty space. You could look at yourself in the mirror and pick apart all the things you loved and hated about your body. It was strangely therapeutic. Something about the critiques gave you a massive high.

But just as the elevator doors where closing a hand slammed hard through the gap.

“Wait!” came a familiar cry. Your face fell and you felt a tight discomfort seeing the face of your younger sister. Caroline.

Your eyes shot down to her belly. Big as a house in the ugliest knit Christmas sweater.

‘Pregnant again. Jesus Christ. What’s this? Number four now?’

You clenched your handbag tighter. You tried recalling some sort of baby shower invite from months ago, you totally forgot about it once you moved it to junk mail.

‘If she fucking asks me for money again, I swear to god she’s risking an abortion voucher in a Christmas card...are abortion vouchers even a thing?’

Caroline had married her highschool sweetheart, he was some sort of mechanic or something. A bum, like your Dad. You couldn’t believe she was dumb enough to breed with an imbecile like him. Mind you, her first son was clearly an teen pregnancy accident that sealed them together. And every year, she just seemed to pop out a new one. And every year that meant you gave her a fat cheque, usually six thousand dollars.

You ground your teeth as she forced herself inside and pressed the button of the doors shut immediately, not at all taking notice of you until mid way moving up in the building.

Her face lit up and she shrieked in delight at seeing you. You strained a smile.

‘Yea, definitely looking for a handout.’

“Oh my god! I was about to fight security to come see you sissy!” she forced her arms around you. You bit your tongue. You hated hugs.

“Well…lovely seeing you too,” you muttered before awkwardly patting her back.

Her breath hitched at seeing the look on your face, “Sorry about not pre-warning, I did try calling you but your phone keeps going to voicemail.”

‘Oh good, she still hasn’t figured out I let them ring out.’

“And you didn’t reply to my emails.”

You fought a smirk, ‘because they go straight to junk mail’.

She smiled and babbled happily, “Anyway, I had to come here because I need to give you-“ she huffed and swiped a bead of sweat from her forehead before reaching into her nappy bag (that she treated like a handbag.) and retrieved a thick red envelope.

She handed it to you. Your manicured nails pinched the ugly stickers one of your nephews or nieces had chosen. Scribbled in absolute chicken scrap handwriting was your name, most likely also done by your nephew or nieces.

The elevator opened and you sighed, marching out to enter the offices with your solo office space down the hall with the largest window and finest view of the city below. You didn’t expect your sister to tail you. She waddled like a fast duck following you.

“I was thinking you should meet this guy that babysits-” She was talking to you about something but in all honesty, you weren’t listening until she mentioned the cursed words, “-Christmas Party.”

You deposited your handbag on your desk and spun on your heel. Your eyes wide, your smile straining into a sneer.

You snickered cruelly and laced your fingers together, “How many times have we discussed this? I. Don’t. Celebrate. Christmas. I don’t do presents, I don’t do carolling, I don’t do secret Santa’s and I sure as fucking hell don’t do Christmas Parties. I’m glad that you and Tim have fun with your kids and do all that meaningless stuff to shield them from the big bad world. I however am not in the mood for it. Work comes first. This is one of the busiest years of my life, the market is at an all time high in interests rates.”

She looked like she was growing smaller with every foul word that dripped like acid rain.

“It’s just one day, not even a full day. Just a few hours, not far from you,” she whispered and rubbed her belly comfortingly.

You shook your head and circled around your desk, “Might as well get this over with, you don’t need to ploy me with booze.”

You pulled out a cheque book from your drawer and slapped it down. You bent over and fished out a pen, pressing the ink to the slim piece of paper.

Your voice came out like a bark, “How much are you wanting this year?”

“Wh-what?” your sisters eyes grew wide.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, with a condescending tone, “How much money do you want to cover all the gifts? I hear Disneyland is great this time of year in Florida. I need a number. I have a busy day ahead of me so I’d just like to get this over and done with.”

Your sister didn’t answer. You glanced up. Her face was no longer smiling. She looked in pain. Her hand sat on top of her belly. She hissed and breathed out hard.

Her eyes were dimming down. She lost the joyful spark. She waddled to the guest chair in front of your desk and sat down.

She put the nappy bag on the floor.

‘great, thanks for the smell of cornflakes and breast milk on the carpet.’

Her breath turned husky and you started to reach for your desk phone ready to call a bloody ambulance to take her to the hospital. You couldn’t tell what the hell was wrong with her and prayed she wasn’t going into labour. You didn’t need to waste five thousand dollars on a carpet replacement because her waters might break.

Her eyes glared up at you as she tried to focus on pacing her breath. God, she looked like your mother with that look. It hurt. She got the best genes you had to admit. Even while pregnant she had this way about her that made men just want to beg for her number. You couldn’t tell if it was her ditsy personality or just good looks.

“Jim," Caroline corrected with strain, "-and I don’t need your money. We don’t want it. We have never have wanted it. This year, I just want you to put in the effort to spend Christmas with us as a family. You and I haven’t shared a Christmas since I was in middle school. My kids want their aunty to visit because I tell them you’re the coolest person alive...” her eyes narrowed, “Put the fucking cheque book away, and come to fucking Christmas dinner at least. It’s going to be at my house if you look at the invite that your nephew and nieces made special for you. They don’t want presents, they just want to see their aunty. Besides.... I told them you’d come if they put extra love into it.”

You chewed your inner cheek and stood up straight, crossing your arms and sat on the edge of your desk.

“You shouldn’t lie to your kids, Caroline,” you coolly said with icy impact.

You watched her eyes start to shine and water.

“Jesus,” you muttered, “Don’t fucking cry.”

She broke down immediately. You sighed with annoyance. ‘why did she have to come today of all days and act like this. It’s not a big deal. God.’

“You’re such a bitch and my kids have done nothing to you except love you unconditionally. The least you can do is show up,” Caroline struggled to stand out of the chair and when you reached out to help, she snapped like a firecracker and hissed, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

She groaned as she bent down, holding her belly and reached for her nappy bag, that she let you help her with. She suddenly looked so tired and deflated compared to when she had ducked into the elevator. You started to feel a tick of that itchy sympathy. Pregnancy always looked hard. Her first birth was so difficult, the second slipped right out but she didn’t have an epidural and the third time was an emergency c-section. In fact you weren’t even sure if she was meant to be having this fourth baby. It would be too risky. She could honestly kill herself. Now that was a bolt of fear that coursed through you.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” you sniffled, trying to distract your little sister from her anger.

She looked even more offended and scoffed, “You know, if you had even tried to come to my baby shower, you could’ve eaten one of the gender reveal cupcakes.”

‘Ouch.’

You looked down at your Valentino pumps. Seven years younger than you and she still managed to put you in your place with the snap of her fingers.

She rubbed her wet eyes with the tips of her fingers.

“I worry about you...” she mumbled, “You might have a lot of money Y/N, but money can’t buy you everything. Don’t you want to share memories?”

You tried hiding the laugh limbing your throat,, “Not this argument again...come on, I’ll walk you out and hire you a cab.”

You escorted her back to the elevator, all your employees watching and whispering about it. You knew your office needed thicker glass.

As you quietly pressed the button down, your sister finally said, “It’s twins. A boy and girl.”

You didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually you only nodded and whispered, “Congratulations. You and Tim must be excited.”

“Jim," she grounded, "-and I are flat out on our feet with the others but yea...I’m thinking about naming the girl after mom.”

Again you didn’t respond. You wanted this interaction to be finished. You wanted to go to work and drink away the days leading up to New Year’s. Maybe you should take a trip overseas. You might run into a handsome one night stand with an attractive accent.

Your sister turned and hugged you again, she rubbed her sweet face into your shoulder and sighed, “I’m sorry for snapping. Please don’t be mad. Please promise me you’ll come to the party, even for five minutes.”

Her pleading eyes finally cracked your ice wall.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

The squealing giggle of delight made you groan internationally instantly regretting your words. Nonetheless you took it upon yourself to at least hug her back. God help you, you didn’t know how you’d survive.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

10:00pm, 24th December 2023, New York City.

On your way home you discovered with aggravation all the cabs and ubers nearby had been booked up and the traffic in the city horrendous. Of course. On Christmas eve it would look like this. You decided to march your way to the subway. It would be the quickest way back home.

You had to cross the park to get there though.

And among your walking you passed a man laying down on a bench. He wore a baseball cap that hid his face. He wore a blanket over his shoulders. A puff of cold air escaped his pink lips.

His shadowed face peered up at you and held up a piece of cardboard that read the following: Homeless, please donate a food and blankets.

And something inside you cracked again. You fought the urge to pull out your purse and give him the only hundred dollar bill you had. You looked him up and down. And froze. Next to him was a bottle of liquor. Something malicious dripped from your lips. Words filled with cruelty and hate. It was bold and dangerous. But you bet he was drunk.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t there any shelters taking in scum? Are all the prisons full? Maybe if you got off your ass and got a real fucking job, you would be too busy making money instead of swilling down booze!”

He did not react in the way you expected. He smiled at an ankle, winked and held a finger up to his lips.

Your face curdled in disgust and hacked back your throat, spitting on him.

“Booze bum,” you muttered, and marched on, away from him.

Your chin jerked high. It was a method of teaching you had learnt in your youth. Shame someone until they commit to a goal and out perform it. To this day you are still doing that very thing, why not share that gift of knowledge with others?

You scowled the entire train ride home and flicked through your emails.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

11:10pm, 24th December 2023, New York City.

Alone in your penthouse apartment, you padded your way to bed scrolling through your phone. In your hand you cradled a wine glass and set it on the bedside table.

Beneath the soft cotton covers you sighed happily and used your phone to command the fireplace to be lit up. A fake flame on a flat screen tv with heaters all around you, filling your place with warmth. Laying back into your pillows you scrolled your phone and frowned at all the Christmas themed posts online, all the tutorials and recipes you’d never follow and all the Christmas stories you’d never read.

Tossing the phone beside your wine glass, your hands snuck down into a drawer and retrieved your absolute best friend in the world. She was thick, long and quiet, totally sky blue and had twenty different settings. You slid the vibrator under the covers and shimmied out of your underwear. Your fingers fumbled, touching your wet cunt.

The alcohol was finally hitting you, warming you up. You weakly reached for your vibrator. You knew it would be a comfort to take away the anger and stress away from your day at work.

You pressed the silicone to your clit and switched on the toy. A soft sigh came from you as you rubbed it along your lower lips. You fluttered your eyes shut and tried to imagine a person and you having sex.

‘A policeman? No. College professor? No. Loser doorman? No…’ and then your eyes flickered in a quick vision of the homeless man from the park… ‘Yes. He must be miserable, pissed off, angry, he smiled but that would have been a lie, his long finger he held to his mouth should stuff itself inside me.’

Your hand slid up and pulled down the front of your night down. You dug your nails into your breast before tugging your nipple hard. You whined as you bucked your hips into your toy that you playfully prodded and tore out of you. You imagined that same stranger ripping your dress from your body and dragging you into the snowy woods.

Rape fantasies weren’t uncommon for you. It was something about the power struggle that sent thrills up and down your spine. You liked the pain. You liked being forced to give up your control. You slid the plastic cock deep into your slick pussy and mewled.

The homeless man would hold a knife to your throat and bend you over a log, no, no, that bench, so out and open and public for anyone to catch him tearing you apart. His hand would lick your skin in stinging slaps. The alcohol on his breath would be putrid. He’d call you names, whore, slut, bitch, cunt, fuckpig. And you would be totally helpless…

You lazily rolled over onto your belly and forced your ass up, your bed sheets falling down your thighs.

You pushed the dildo back in deep and turned on the highest setting, biting the pillow under you. You fucked yourself hard until it hurt.

The homeless man fantasy went on and on, forcing you to cum and cry. You didn’t care if neighbours or tenants below you heard. You imagined this terrible man after fucking you raw making you sit in his filthy lap, fucking you with the empty liquor bottle neck and letting strangers walking past the chance to spit on you and slap you until you cummed.

The fantasy didn’t have a fanciful ending fleshed out. You could only imagine him dragging you back to some ghetto homeless tent village under one of the city bridges and whoring your cunt out to his homeless buddies. You wanted to submit, to be used like that…

But not in the real world. Fuck no. Your reputation mattered greatly. You were too stubborn to willingly date a man and ask him to do something taboo like consensual non-consent play.

You tore the blue cock out and pressed it to your clit, riding out an ultimate orgasm that left your body feeling like jelly. Slumping forward you groaned into the pillows, you knew you had to eventually get up and pee. The alcohol still in your system made the journey feel almost impossible. But when your bare ass hit the seat, you leant back and sighed. 'UTI prevented!'

Getting back to bed wasn’t as hard as getting to the bathroom. You breathed in the smell of your own sexual prowess. No shame. You put away your toy and before you could search for your discarded underwear, you heard your phone pinged. You grunted with annoyance.

You glanced at the screen; it was a text from Caroline.

*Told the kids you are coming tomorrow! They’re so excited to see their aunty! Xoxo*

‘oh right…her Christmas party…it’s tomorrow…' you still hadn’t even looked at the invitation. Anger started burning its way into your chest when you saw the emojis and gifs she attached. Santa and reindeers and snowmen. God you fucking hated Christmas!! She didn’t need to remind you. You didn’t plan to be there longer than the strick three hundred seconds. The miserable evil stabbed your heart again.

It out you so over the edge you began to type, *Tell them I changed my mind, I’m busy.*

Before your thumb could slam on the message send, something strange occurred. The penthouse apartment lights started to flicker on and off repeatedly.

‘A circuit must’ve snapped. I know I turned off all the lights.’

You slammed your phone down and ripped off your bed sheets. Marching over to the telecom beside you door you prepared the mental speech of anger and abuse you’d deliver on whatever poor soul was handling the front desk of the apartment complex tonight.

You pressed the button hard and when no welcoming comment came you decided to wait.

You waited and waited and still no one acknowledged you over the telecom. There was a noise coming from it though. It was a sound of ragged breathing. Squinting with absolute judgement you hissed into the microphone.

You sobered up your voice and rubbed your eyes. Your wine was knocking around your insides at that point, it had polluted your blood. You just needed to stay awake for a little longer.

“This is penthouse three. Your lights are dimming and flickering out. I want someone to change all that bulbs and check the power wires immediately. Do I make myself clear?”

The unusual panting was still there and getting louder. You shook your head. Someone should’ve been repeating back your request and discussing a mode of action.

“Hello?” you angrily huffed into the microphone when no answer came for a long time.

You hissed, “Now you listen here. I don’t give a fuck it’s Christmas eve. You’re job is on the line if you cant fix my fucking lights.”

And then the line went totally dead and your apartment was entirely darkened. You groaned with anguish. Using your phone flash light you returned to your room.

“Fine,” you grumbled as you pulled the covers Of your bed back again, “Probably too drunk on eggnog to give a damn. Say goodbye to those two dollar tips dickhead.”

You laid back and fished out your bonnet, carefully lipping your hair inside the protective layer. You rolled onto your side under the covers and shut your eyes.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

12:00am, 25th December 2023, New York City.

For some reason at 12am you received a very obnoxiously loud phone call. Blindly you reached for it and accepted the call. You had a suspicion it was a prank call from overseas.

“Y/N,” said the caller. Your eyes cleared up fast at the sound of a voice you knew too well.

You almost dropped your phone. Surely it wasn’t her calling. You had seen her body at her funeral. She chuckled on the other side, her voice was just as rusted as you remembered. In the dream she had come over to your house and had a sleep over together.

Your eyes widened, “Wh-who is this?” you asked, “Do you fucking know what time it is?”

The identical voice of your passed companion echoed back, “In life you knew me as Marlene Jeong.”

You hung up the phone fast and sat up straight. Her hands trembled and the phone screamingly made another phone call from the same unknown number.

You answered it and heard her shriek, “Don’t you know hanging up like that is rude.”

You took a deep breath in. And shut your eyes. No. It couldn’t be.

“This prank isnt funny,” you barked into the receiver.

“Well I’d hope not. You know I wasn’t a fan of funny,” she grumbled back.

You picked up the phone and huffed, “If you’re really Marlene...tell me something only I would know...”

The phone went quiet and clicked off. You smirked, 'Yea, that's what I thought you sick fuck.'

The air around you grew colder. With the power out you accepted that the central heating was out too. Getting out of bed you stumbled down the hall to the linen cupboard and pulled out a few more thicker blankets. When you returned back to your room you screamed and jumped ten feet in the air, dropping the load of blankets.

Marlene was sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. She was not herself and yet was at the same time. She looked the same except for the fact her entire body was a light blue and translucent. She was naked. And you could see her translucent organs. In her hand was a false spiritual cigarette. Smoking rising from the tip and faded into the darkness. And don’t let me forget a important detail. She was floating and parts of her body wrapped in chains.

Hearing you, she turned her face away from your phone and winked. You slammed back into a wall, trying to get away from her as she floated closer to you. She took a mean drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke into your fear filled face. You could’ve fainted. The smoke didn’t smell like anything and was rather a cold breeze to your cheek.

You flinched and whimpered, “Marlene...what the fuck.”

She smirked and rolled mid air upside down,

“Long time no see. Or well...you can’t see me but I see you basically every day,” she cackled.

Your lips fell apart, “Wha-how- why...why are you hear? Should you be dead?”

She flicked the cigarette of ash that turned into blue light specs and disappeared before touching the floor.

“Oh trust dear, I’m dead, dead as a doornail. Little Kyong gave me a killer orgasm, literally,” she took another long drag, “I had no clue what was coming and poof! I’m on the floor choking and groaning and next thing I wake up to, is you moving your shit into my office and my penthouse. But I digress sweet snake...I’m not here on a social call...I’m here to send you a warning.”

Your head felt dizzy, “A warning? The fuck? Am I going to die soon or something?” you wrapped your arms around yourself.

She smiled and shook her head, “Oh no...no, no....something a tad more painful. See, I have been sent to play 'angel Gabriel' so to speak and inform you of a supernatural message.”

She floated around, chains at her wrist dragged behind her as she did. Marlene sharpened her gaze at you.

‘Woah did I take one too many Percocet with my wine...I must be high.’

“You are saveable unlike my dead cold self,” she said flying back to your bed and lewdly laying down, “My dead frozen heart could not thaw,” she sighed and tapped her chest.

You could see inside her at the organ most resembling heart was literally made of icy and was not beating. It was disturbing.

“I’m destined to float while tethered to the world unseen, unheard, unloved…forgotten. But you? You still have a chance to atone. A spirit shall arrive and come to you in three shades…Christmas past, present and future. It shall greet you hourly between one and three o’clock.”

You timidly stepped closer.

“You need to open your mind and open your heart or else-“ she floated above you and groaned, “This will be your future fate.”

You rubbed your eyes and slapped your cheek. Marlene’s ghost was still there. She held up her wrist, showing off the manacle around it, “This is a fate no one wishes, trust me on that.”

Her face leant in closer to your face. Her hair floated around her like water tendrils.

She rattled the chains together, clinking them and explained, “The spirit will test you. And they will test you fairly. They will decide what to do with you after. They call themselves, Christmas past, present and future.”

When she had said these words, Marlenes ghost faded away, disappearing into the cold, quiet night. It took you a few minutes to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe or make sense of it and no matter how many times you pinched of slapped yourself, you found yourself still in the unexplainable dream. You tossed the blankets from the floor onto the bed. You had another drink of wine before you chose to return to bed. You tugged the warmest and softest blanket up to your chin. You were scared and confused. Your eyes grew heavier as you forced yourself to forget and ignore the apparition of Marlene chained nude and talking in riddles.

You laid your cheek into the pillow and fell into a deep slumber.

HELPINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline services

India Helpline Services

#chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans #dark!chris evans #tsoc

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#lorien legacies #garde #i am number four #loric garde #number five #number eight #number nine #number six

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frombeyondtheblackhole · 2 years

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Double Life Final Scores

[For the LL Final Score board go here]

Aaaaalright everyone, It’s that time again. When Last Life finished I made a scoreboard to measure all the stats. And now it’s time for Double Life. Same as last time, some scenarios were not as clear cut so I had to make some calls about who got credit for a kill. If multiple people came up with the idea for a trap that resulted in a kill the kill goes to whoever set the trap, if more than one person set the trap then the kill goes to both of them. If more than three people are tied for runner up then I don’t list it. As far as scoring is concerned I do not count dying due to the soul bound link as a death (The life is lost but I don’t count it as a death). If you were not the one to die it does not count for the statistics.

Spoiler warning for Double Life below.

Now without further ado.

The Individual Awards

The award for Most Kills goes to Grian and Joel who tied for first place with a total of 3 kills each. Second place goes to Etho and Pearl with a total of 2 kills. This season was a lot less bloodthirsty than previous seasons.

The award for Most Yellow Players Killed (kills that sent a player from yellow to red) goes to Etho and Jole with a total of 2 kills each. Second place goes to Grian and Ren with 1 kill each.

The award for Most Perma-Kills (kills that took players out of the game, AKA the Red Slayer) goes to Pearl and Grian with 2 perma-kills each. Second place goes to Smajor and Scar with 1 perma-kill each. Smajors kill was himself.

The award for Most Kills in a Single Session Goes to Pearl with a total of 2 kills in session 6. These were her only kills the entire season and they both occurred at the very end of the game

There were so many people this season who got 0 kills that no one was able to get the award for Least Number of Kills. But for the record Bdubs, Impulse, Cleo, Tango, and Jimmy all got 0 kills this season.

The award for the one Responsible for The Most Deaths (the one to die most out of a soulbound pair) goes to Cleo, who died on all three of their lives. The first death was caused by Martyn pushing her off a bridge, so technically that was his fault, but she was the one to actually die so the award goes to her (The chat death messages never lie! (actually they do, the mod they use makes the second death message weird sometimes, I ignore those, the only one that counts is the first one))

The award for the one Responsible for the Least Deaths (The one to die least out of a soulbound pair) goes to Martyn, who did not die at all the entire season.

The award for Most Deaths in a Single Session goes to Smajor in session 6, Scar in session 5 and Cleo in session 6 with a total of 2 deaths each.

The award for Least Deaths to Players goes to Tango, BigB, Impulse and Martyn with 0 deaths to players. Tango, BigB and Impulse only ever died once to natural causes, while Martyn never died at all.

The award for Least Deaths to Natural Causes (deaths not caused by a player, this includes mobs, drowning, lava etc.) goes to Pearl, Etho, Smajor and Martyn. Pearl and Smajor only ever died to player kills, while Etho’s only death was to a lava portal trap set by Grian and Scar, and Martyn never died at all.

The award for Most Kills while still Green or Yellow goes to Grian and Martyn with a total of 1 kill each. Grian’s kill was due to a game of fishing rod gone wrong (honestly it was a case of having 1 brain cell between the five of them and that brain cell belongs to Scott). Martyns kill was his soulbound cleo, this was his only kill the entire season.

The award for First to Kill goes to Martyn for killing Cleo in session 3. Second place goes to Grian who killed Joel in session 4.

And now for the Couples Awards

These are awards granted to each soulbound couple as a pair.

I will be referring to the different pairs as follows

Ren and BigB = Box Bros

Etho and Joel = Boat Boys

Grian and Scar = Desert Duo

Cleo and Martyn = Divorcees

Smajor and Pearl = Exes

Jimmy and Tango = Team Rancher

Bdubs and Impulse = Gossips

The couples award for Most Total Kills goes to Boat Boys with a total of 4 kills. Second place goes to Exes and Desert Duo with a total of 3 kills each team.

The couples award for Most Yellow Players Killed (kills that sent a player from yellow to red) also goes to Boat Boys with a total of 3 kills. Second place goes to Box Bros and Desert Duo with 1 kill each team.

The couples award for Most Perma-Kills (kills that took players out of the game, AKA the Red Slayer) goes to Exes with 3 perma-kills. Second place goes to Desert Duo with 1 perma-kill.

The couples award for Most Kills in a Single Session also goes to Exes with a total of 3 kills. Second place goes to Boat Boys and Desert Duo with two kills per team.

The couples award for Least Number of Kills goes to Gossips and Team Rancher with 0 kills between the two of them. Second place goes to Divorcees and Box Bros with only 1 kill per team.

The couples award for Most Deaths in a Single Session goes to Exes, Divorcees, Desert Duo and Gossips.

The couples award for Least Deaths to Players goes to Box Bros, Desert Duo and Team Rancher, with only 1 Player Death each team.

The couples award for Least Deaths to Natural Causes goes to Exes, who never died to natural causes the entire season.

The couples award for Most Kills while still Green or Yellow goes to Desert Duo and the Divorcees (That sounds like a band name XD), with a total of 1 kill per team.

The award of First to Die goes to Team Rancher, who died in session 1 when Tango was exploded by a creeper. Second place goes to Boat Boy’s who died to an enderman later that same session.

The award of First to Red goes to Box Bros who went red in session 3 due to a creeper explosion blowing up BigB. Second place goes to Boat Boys in session 4 from the fishing rod accident.

The award for First to Perma-Die goes to Team Rancher, specifically Jimmy, when Jimmy died to an Enderman in session 5. The canary curse is still as powerful as ever. Second place goes to Box Bros who died later in session 5, when Ren died to Grian’s stalactite trap.

The award for Last Greens on the Server goes to Desert Duo, who held out all the way through session 5 only to die to Scar falling in a pit of Zombies. Second place goes to the Gossips who went yellow near the end of session 4 when Impulse fell down a ravine.

The award for Last to Turn Red (AKA the Final Yellow) goes to the Divorcees Who died while getting chased by Scar in the deepdark in session 6. Cleo died of drowning before Scar could get the kill. Second place goes to the Exes, who died earlier in session 6 when Joel chased down and shot Smajor with a rocket launcher.

Special Awards

Special awards go out to players for noteworthy actions that can’t be measured by numbers and statistics alone.

Self Destruct goes to Smajor for blowing himself up and taking himself out of the game. This was his only kill the entire season. Interesting fact, this is a repeat award from last life. Tango won it last time when his only kill all season was when he blew himself up taking him out of the game.

Toxic Love goes to Martyn for killing his own soulmate. This was his only kill all season and he was the only one to be directly responsible for their soulmate's death.

Warden Wrangler goes to Tango for successfully name tagging a warden and getting it to the surface without dieing. Rip Grian.

5 AM goes to Pearl for winning the game and fully committing to some top tier unhinged insanity, especially at the end. To be fair, this is more of a personal opinion than anything else but 2 v 1 ing two separate teams while laughing maniacally, perfection, chiefs kiss, couldn’t have asked for a better ending. She deserved that win.

#double life spoilers #double life smp #dl smp #trafficblr #traffic smp #double life analysis

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angorwhosebabyisthis · 1 year

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tbh i think one of the biggest things they could have done to make five and nine hate each other without bullying or bigotry involved would have been to lean into the thing where some adhdtistics naturally vibe, whereas others have an incompatible combination of nd traits that make them viscerally unable stand each other, and go from there

#lorien legacies #LL number five #LL number nine #like nine is very obviously coded adhd but he is also autistic as hell #and. gestures at five #this is also why canon!nine's brand of lying about things and getting his behavior excused as being 'bad at signals'#when that's Not What's Actually Happening irritates me #they could have even included elements of some of the others being a little too defensive of his behavior at five's expense #without it just being 'lol bully the fat autistic kid'#if they're used to accounting for the fact that nine is neurodivergent and having a Hard Time of It #in ways that make it easy to assume he's just a dickhead when he really genuinely does not realize or understand that's how he comes across #and/or is exhausted and defensive that he has to try constantly and /so hard/ NOT to come across that way #and feels like he's being fucked with when people correct him constantly #because 'that doesn't sound right but i don't know enough about social skills to dispute it'#and is also increasingly bitter at feeling like 'why the fuck should /i/ have to be the one to change everything about how i act'#'why can't people at least try to meet me in the middle for once. fuck this'#all compounded by brain damage from extended solitary confinement and physical TBIs #and it becomes more understandable for the others to kneejerk toward accommodating his access needs before five's when they conflict #while also y'know. being significantly less assholess toward five in general; and in fact treating him a lot less shittily BECAUSE they #have experience with not judging people for initially being awkward and kind of insensitive or seemingly abrasive #or just behaving in ways that seem Weird. it's still a blind spot that they favor nine here but they're not being ableist pieces of shit #nor are they trying to shut him up about abuse and force him to Get Used to It #anyway lots of thoughts about this need to write up posts etc #LL tag #ableism cw #dyn: lost boys

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vinesandbooksbaby · 7 months

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LL incorrect quotes but it’s just quotes from my friend group

John: I’m an old person. My body wakes me up at 6 am

Ella: *quietly and seriously*: My body screams

Nine: *singing* my chick bad my chick hood

Six: stop it

Nine: why

Six: your life depends on it

Eight: Do you eat hotdogs?

Marina: yes

Ella: awww

Nine: I need to get it in this time

Five: Fuck off

Nine: That’s what he said

Five: Fuck off?

Marina: I was more of a befriend the tiramisu kind of girl

Ella: Dude I have like the body length of a Viking

*cicada chirping*

Sandor: What’s that?

Brandon/Henri: That’s called a bug

Adam: If you were going to kys what is the stupidest way you could do it

One: One time I actually used a fork to get my food out of the toaster

Sarah: Don’t give up, chase your dreams!

Five: My dream is giving up

(Nemo to Nine): Your texting style is so different from the way you speak. Except for the number of bitches you use. Bitches remain constant

Sam: The author of my textbook suddenly stopped using the Oxford comma I’m gonna kill myself

#lorien legacies #i am number four #legacies reborn #incorrect quotes #LL

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canitalkaboutsomething · 1 year

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F1 in America is and always will be cringy and thats just part of the experience.

Many of us were sitting down or standing up on an exciting Sunday afternoon when we F1 fans collectively saw the cringe-fest that was Will. I. Am and LL Cool J's star-studded introductions of twenty of the best drivers in the world.

And as we were watching and cringing and closing our eyes and opening them because we were getting some serious secondhand embarrassment (at least I was,) we collectively all asked ourselves why this was happening and was the Fanfare necessary.

Among with backlash from Twitter, and even some drivers speaking up about how unnecessary and distracting it was to do these introductions, many people wondered why the promoters and event organizers would choose to do something like that, especially on race day.

So, why did that happen, and why was it so cringy?

The simple answer is money. I think to those who know and may not already know that any sport in America is highly commercialized and starts not with the teams or the sport itself but the idolization of those who operate in it. It has always been this way, even with sports outside the united states.

For instance, I bet most people could care less about the stats for the Kansas City Chiefs or The Cleveland Browns. Still, they know who Patrick Mahomes, Travis Kelce, and Joe Burrow are, or they could tell you that Lebron James plays for the Lakers and Stephen Curry plays for the Golden state warriors. Still, they don't know their positions or stats, but they could tell you their jersey number, what kind of shoes they prefer, their latest Instagram post, and who they are currently seeing. It happens often.

So why does this happen?

In sports, especially in American sports, it is not enough to be good at the sport. You have to be the best, and you have to be likable. That starts with your online presence, how the fan base perceives you, and how others perceive the sport. It is simply not enough to attend a sporting event and be entertained. It is a performance from the time you, the paying attendee, walk into that sporting event until you leave.

That's why they have halftime shows at basketball and football games; they have professional cheerleaders, crowd participation events, and mini-games on the sidelines of Major and Minor league baseball Innings. These entertainment tactics ensure that people have a good time and want to return.

So why does this happen in F1 when it comes to America?

Fanfare and Fanservice. Events in America, as I've stated before, are highly commercialized. That's how it is. And, because America is so big and the interest is so varied, organizations and promoters are left with having to find a way to appeal to bigger audiences. But, in addition to that, interest in things peaks and then declines drastically. And because of this, one of their highly effective tactics is to induce this feeling of FOMO.

" If you're not in Miami this weekend, where are you? Oh, you weren't in Austin this weekend, then where were you? Oh, you're not going to the race in Vegas? I'm sad for you."

Fanfare and the Fear of Missing out is an effective way to sell tickets, and because the United States only experiences three races as of this year, and the continent of North America in total experiences five races, if you're willing and have money to travel to Mexico and Canada, there are not a lot of opportunities to see these races in person, granted if they even have a passport (which is a conversation for another day.)

In addition, you have Drive to Survive on Netflix, which has gotten more people into the sport, especially in America, and in my opinion, has helped pave the way to getting Miami and Las Vegas on the schedule. In addition, the show has given newer fans a glimpse into the fast-moving world of F1, even on an overly dramatic scale. And to some extent, they expect that type of drama and scale when they go to these races. So, therefore, the Fanfare has to be bigger and better than the last to ensure that the sport can continue to become popular in America.

So the organizers use big names like LLCoolJ and Will.I.Am, and they invite celebrities like Tom Cruise, Vin Diesel, and the cast of Fast and Furious; they have had companies that invite influencers who have nothing to do with the sport, trying to get as much publicity on the event so that the rest of America has this feeling of wanting to be where the action is taking place.

For comparison, This is the same reason why Beyonce or Taylor Swift can sell their concert tickets at astronomically high prices because you are not paying to go to a concert, but rather the experience of seeing them in the flesh in real-time, even if your tickets are not great, and you were in the nose bleeds the entire time, you were there and got to see it. Which is the same logic promoters are operating off of for these races.

Now back to the obvious,

Was the Fanfare with the introductions, at that moment, necessary? No. Honestly, it was just poor planning. The time to do something like that would have been at the drivers' parade or any other time other than race day, but it is interesting because so many people want the Fanfare to be around the race, big Sunday race day, which in America is more on par with NASCAR. Not saying that the race isn't one to have Fanfare over, but the race weekend technically starts on Thursday with the press, so there were potentially other opportunities to engage in Fanfare all weekend.

Now, will this backlash affect how other American races will go this year? Probably not. But I hope that in any event that it's just a lesson in what not to do on a race day, and hopefully, next year, we will get a different format.

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