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fairuzfan · 1 month

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you didn't actually answer my question , Temple Mount is the most ancient and holiest site for Jewish people -- the Dome of the Rock & Al-Aqsa Mosque were built hundreds of years later on behalf of the Umayyad dynasty's conquest. you mentioned in your response a massacre that happened centuries later, which does not relate to the fact that Jews cannot pray at this site (their utmost holiest site before even the existence of Christians or Muslims). how is "temple denial" something that I made up when you can research it right now and see what it is and that it exists? I ask because this seems to be actually a blind spot for many non-Jewish people simply because it doesn't affect them. I'm not intending to be argumentative and I am sorry if my English is bad in getting across

I'm sorry for being argumentative but a lot of the time, whenever Palestinians are asked about temple mount, there's an implication that Palestinians are colonizers and don't deserve to be on the land. Israelis, if they could, would completely ban Muslims from AlAqsa despite it being the third holiest site in Islam.

AlAqsa is probably the most important national symbol of Palestinians, often thought to be the last straw for Palestinian heritage. So much of our culture has been robbed from us, and (primarily muslims) believe that the demolition of AlAqsa, which is, as Mohammed ElKurd puts it, is one of the last places in all of Palestine where being Palestinian is not criminalized would be a fundamental loss we would never recover from, equivalent to losing our Balad.

I bring up the Ibrahimi Mosque Massacre because there are no restrictions for extremist settlers legally — they operate as an arm of the state and in some cases are encouraged to committ these acts. The "Apartheid Law" basically enshrined that settlements are a national value for Israel. This means that there is no safe haven for Palestinians legally. They're in constant danger of getting kicked out of their home or getting arrested for existing. I cannot emphasize enough how Palestinian freedom is so restricted with the explicit intent of pushing them out of the land.

Temple denial as a concept (after looking it up) seeks to paint Palestinians in a fundamentally bigoted and violent light. Palestinians are not allowing Jews in AlAqsa not because they hate Jews, but because that opens the way for settlers to become violent around AlAqsa, which a lot of the time is already happening. I suggest reading "Why Do Palestinians Burn Jewish Holy Sites? The Fraught History of Joseph's Tomb" (sorry the link is not linking, but you can look it up on the palestine institute webpage). It discusses the use of history as a colonial tool. Here's an excerpt:

It is one of many shrines across historic Palestine – now split into Israel, the West Bank, and Gaza – that has been re-invented as exclusively Jewish, despite a long history of shared worship among Jews, Christians, Muslims, and Samaritans that goes back centuries. And the reason it has been attacked has almost nothing to do with religion, and much to do with how the Israeli military and settlement movements have used religion as a way to expand their control over Palestinian land and holy places.

And a second excerpt describing the political use of religion:

But the claims of biblical archaeologists had a strong role in how the Zionist movement would come to understand and conceive of the landscape.6 As European Jews migrated to Palestine in the first half of the twentieth century, they drew upon biblical archeology's claims. They adopted archeologists' claims that Palestinian holy sites were directly linked to ancient biblical figures. In many cases, they focused on occupying those sites in order to legitimize the colonial endeavor by giving it a sense of deeper history. In many cases, this would mean evicting the Palestinians who actually frequented these holy sites.

And what Palestinians are afraid of:

In 1975, the Israeli military banned Palestinians – that is, the Samaritans, Muslims, and Christians living around the site – from visiting, a ban that has remained in place until this day. [...] Unsurprisingly, the ban has ignited intense anger over the years. This is true particularly given that frequent visits by Jewish settlers to the shrine are accompanied by hundreds of Israeli soldiers, who enter the area and run atop the rooftops of local Palestinians to “secure” the tomb. As a result, Joseph's Tomb has increasingly become associated with the Israeli military and settlement movement in the eyes of Palestinians. Its presence has become an excuse for frequent military incursions that provoke clashes and lead to arrests and many injuries in the neighborhood. Some fear that Israelis will attempt to take over the shrine to build an Israeli settlement around it. This fear is not unfounded, given the fact that Israeli settlers have done exactly that all across the West Bank in places they believe are connected in some way to Jewish biblical history. The notoriously violent Jewish settlements in Hebron, for example, were built there due to the location of the Tomb of the Patriarchs in that southern West Bank town. Following the initial years of settlement, settlers even managed to convince Israeli authorities to physically divide the shrine – which is holy to local Palestinians – and turn the whole area into a heavily-militarized complex. Other shrines have become excuses for the Israeli military to build army bases inside Palestinian towns, like Rachel's Tomb in Bethlehem – which is surrounded by twenty-foot high concrete walls on three sides to block Palestinian access. The village of Nabi Samwel near Jerusalem, meanwhile, was demolished in its entirety to provide Jewish settlers access to the tomb at its heart.

I'm not denying the temple mount is there. I'm just saying that history has been manipulated to erase centuries worth of cultural heritage through scholarship and Palestinians are protective of their most important symbol of resistance and life. Even you saying "Islam and Christianity came after Judiasm" is a dogwhistle for me, because a lot of the time extremists say that to completely erase AlAqsa as an important site to Muslims and intending to deny the site as a shared worshipping site that is quite important to Muslims. Just because Islam came after Judiasm, does that mean it's not legitimate as a religion itself? Islamically, Islam is a continuation of Judiasm, so we don't deny judiasm is important to AlQuds. We just are so concerned with losing our national symbol that we're so protective over it.

Now I bring up the massacre at ibrahimi mosque because, like mentioned in the excerpt above, Palestinians are afraid something like that will happen again. There's no protections for Palestinians, and most of the time they're denied from praying in AlAqsa themselves by Israeli authorities. Israeli settlers themselves come in and disrespect AlAqsa, and as I mentioned, extremists plan on demolishing AlAqsa to build a Third Temple. The Massacre at the Mosque paved way to the "Jews Only" streets I mentioned, including the militarization and basically a complete upheaval of normal life for Palestinians. I suggest looking into how terrible the situation in AlKhalil is, and that arised directly from the massacre.

You cannot separate this issue from the colonial implications of the last safe haven in all of Palestine being open to Israelis. Now when Palestine is free, I doubt there would be restrictions. But right now, there are and to pretend Israelis don't pose a threat to Palestinians fundamentally, would be erasure of the colonization of Palestine.

I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but even if AlAqsa was built hundreds of years after, it doesn't change the fact that RIGHT NOW Israelis have privilege that Palestinians do not. As soon as that privilege is no longer there, then we can talk about allowing Jews there. But until then, Palestinians are constantly in danger of settler violence and to take away a space (which, Ibrahimi Mosque was one of those sites before Palestinians were massacred) is frankly, an insult and a denial that Palestinians themselves are colonized.

I suggest looking at the links I provided earlier for more in depth analysis. I'm going to reiterate: the only reason it's illegal is because Palestine is colonized and this is our last safe haven that we even aren't completely allowed from entering ourselves.

Most Palestinians are quite heated about this topic. It genuinely is considered one of our last national symbols (so not just religious but also political and cultural), which means that having that taken away (which extremist settlers plan on demolishing it completely, and if they're allowed in, then there are no restrictions on their behavior) would be tantamount to losing our balad, or nation. I've heard Israelis call AlAqsa terrible names over the years and some fully intend on demolishing the site. Even within Israeli politics, it is a genuine goal for some people, including Ben Gvir, so most believe that opening the door for settlers (who are the ones who want the destruction of AlAqsa) would be equivalent to giving it up. You can't ignore that when talking about AlAqsa and the laws surrounding it. The primary reason for this protectiveness is political and cultural.

#palestine #the second intifada happened because ariel sharon forced his way in for political reasons #palestinians were so angry and took it as an insult (which it was) that the second intifada happened

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whiskeyghoul · 8 months

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All tied up || [Spencer Reid X f!reader] Pt.1

First time posting a fic here.

The idea of Spencer remembering all the shibari knots from a book gave me the incredible urge to start writing. This is part one and mostly setting up to part two where all the spicy stuff will happen.

Tags: Shibari, eventual smut, consent, (idk I am bad at tagging)

Part two

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"I actually heard it can be very therapeutic." Spencer Reid stood next to you as you were bent over a case file. The unsub would tie their victims up in intricate red rope, displaying them like a piece of artwork. Suspended in mid air their bodies hung from ceilings. You had made a comment under your breath as you watched the detail in the knots, nothing of interest. Either they'd been strung up post mortem, which seemed unlikely with the way their bodies were contorted. Or while the victim was alive and cooperating. Meaning the victims trusted the unsub.

You knew of shibari, had seen it once when you had stumbled upon it while researching a sexclub where a suspected unsub was picking his victims. It piqued your interest, seeing the knots tied carefully with enough slack to allow fingers to slip past the rope. The shapes accentuating the women's bodies, looks of content on their faces. You had quickly squashed the thought at the time. Not wanting to address your new found interest in the slightest. Hoping that if you didn't think about it it would go away. Unfortunately that hadn't been the case. You'd managed to find pictures of the beautiful rope designs people created and it only fed the flame growing inside you. But when Spencer made that comment as he looked over your shoulder. Something stirred inside. Like he knew what you'd been thinking about.

"I don't think they found this very therapeutic." You retorted, eyes focused on the paper again. If they hadn't been crime scene photos they could have been beautiful. Spencer placed one hand on the desk, the other on the back of your chair as he leaned over. The heat of his body radiating off of him. You kept your eyes on the papers, not daring to look up at your workplace crush. Who, in all his genius, was the most clueless person you'd met. "Right, I don't think they did. Still, it's interesting to see the great care the unsub took to present them this way. It’s like a piece of art, he takes pride in his work." Spencer commented, saying the words you'd just been thinking. "It could have been beautiful if not for the murder." you said a bit solemnly, not thinking about your words, still trying to figure out whether the unsub tied them up post mortem or not. Absentmindedly tracing your fingers over the ropes in one picture.

"Would you ever want to try it?" Spencer suddenly asked. Your head whipped around in surprise, staring at the man who was looking down at you. He was gauging your reaction, which now that you realize it, was way too obvious. He'd probably already caught on to the fact you'd been interested in shibari from the case before. A damn good profiler even if he was clueless about your feelings for him. "W-what? No, of course not." You lied, feeling heat creep up your neck as you averted your eyes from him. “Why would you say that?” You asked in turn, knowing he’d already caught you in your lie. “Just the way you said it could have been beautiful. I’ve read a book on it once…” The way Spencer said it was suggestive, knowing what he meant once he said he read a book on it once. He remembers it all, the knots, the ties. He was offering to help you get it out of your system. The way he trailed off made it non committal, it wasn’t a full offer but it was up in the air. If you wanted to go in on it he wouldn’t judge. “You have? Are you interested?” Your voice was low, barely above a whisper because you were still in the bullpen. Colleagues and teammates are still around to hear if you spoke too loudly. “We have Saturday off.” Spencer spoke, it wasn’t an answer but an invite. “We do.” You agreed, and that was it. “You could come over.” Spencer said, there was something in his voice. It was low and smooth. “I can. At 2?” You added before daring to look up at him again, he nodded his head with a slight smile. There was a flush on his face. “I’ll see you then.” He added, pushing himself off the table and returning to his own desk, your eyes following until he sat down.

Your mind was jumbled with thoughts about what could happen when you get to his place. Mentally you were still trying to grapple with the fact that he had invited you, but standing on the doorstep had been quite the wake up. You rang his doorbell and Spencer buzzed you in. You walked to the elevator, pressing the button and stepping inside to head to the second floor. Stepping out and walking past the other doors until you reached his front door. A deep breath. You raised your hand, a timid knock on the door that was opened just a second too quickly. Like he had been waiting for you. “Hey.” Spencer breathed out the word, a slight smile on his lips as he stared at you. You could feel your cheeks start to heat under his gaze. “Come in.” Spencer said as he stepped out of the way, letting you pass into his apartment. “Thanks.” You said as you observed your surroundings. You’d been in his apartment once before. It was lived in, slightly cluttered and warm. It smelled of books and coffee, some of his vices. His large leather couch was put to the side and the middle of his living room was currently a large open space. He’d prepared this. You swallowed thickly, knowing he’d taken care to get it all ready made you excited, a fluttering feeling settling in your stomach. The small bag you had taken with you was placed down next to the coat rack. Your jacket was slipped off your shoulders by Spencer, the motion making you look over your shoulder at him. He gave you a reassuring smile, warming your heart and soothing your nerves. “Do you want something to drink first?” He asked as he hung your coat away. “No, thank you.” You replied, wanting to get to it rather than stall. It would make you nervous again to wait. Wanting to get started almost immediately. “Alright, then let’s get started?” Spencer asked it, maybe to have clear confirmation that this was what you wanted. He fidgeted slightly, perhaps as nervous as you had been before. You nodded your head, the action seeming to calm Spencer slightly, his hands stopping from fidgeting. Instead grabbing the red rope that was laid out on a side table, pushed to the wall this time.

“How do we start?” You asked, having prepared by wearing a pair of soft shorts and a tank top. Spencer turned back to you, taking two strides before he was right in front of you again. Something in his eyes had changed from before. “Strip.” His tone was different, making a shiver run down your spine.

This was going to be interesting.

#Spencer Reid #Criminal minds #Criminal minds fic #Spencer Reid fic #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid smut #Shibari

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queerponcho · 3 months

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Transfixed | part 3

previous part | part 4

collage made by me with pictures from pinterest

moonknight!system x female!reader

a/n: AHHH- Thank you all so much for reblogging, liking and commenting on my past chapters!!! I just reached 50 reblogs and it honestly means the world that people are embracing a newbie like me (✿◠‿◠)

Warnings: no use of Y/N, fluff, NOT beta read, gushing about the moonboys, flustered awkward dorks, plot-twists, Jake being a menace, (eventual smut, the chapters will be marked individually), inaccurate depictions of DID, egyptian mythology and religion (although I did extensive research I took liberty in changing some things to adhere to my plot...), if I missed anything or made any spelling mistakes pls don't hesitate to tell me!

Summary: Steven and Marc have a little...carfuffle when Jake finally lets them front again, after days of taking over. The date plans are set and both parties eager to meet soon but are we surprised when things don't go as planned..?

2,200 words

Steven at home

‘I can’t believe this- how does this even happen Steven?’

‘Mate, I don't know! You were there weren’t you? You know how it happened…’

‘So you’re tellin’ me that any pretty girl can just sit there and you will literally tell them all about our personal business???'

‘How else was I supposed to find out about Jake huh?? Say that he’s my identical twin brother and then have to explain myself-'

‘Steven you would never have had to explain anything! Because this was supposed to be ONE conversation over a non-committal coffee- not a damn first date.’ Marc replies sternly. He looks at Steven in the glass of the fishtank and notices him looking deflated and guilty. Great- now he feels guilty for making Steven feel guilty. ‘I-I am sorry man, I shouldn't've gotten this mad, you know how I am about…personal stuff.’ Marc says sincerely. He really has been trying to be better at communicating, it’s been a feat to get here but he would do anything to make Steven's life easier. ‘It’s alright Marc..you’re right I should call off the date’ Steven says while looking at his hands, remembering your touch on his shoulder. The way you made him trust you so easily, even though he barely knew you. How desperately he wanted to get to know you an- ‘Steven, you know we share a brain right?’ Marc says trying to stop Steven from swooning any further. ‘Look- clearly you like her and she seems to like you as well, so who says this won’t turn out well?’ ‘well- you know: “we share a brain”’ Steven says, mocking Marc's previous comment. ‘Okay okay I get it- I messed up. I’m sorry. There, will you let me help you now?’ Marc looks at Steven expectantly.

Days passed since they had returned home after you left them in the cafe. Steven was pretty sure Jake had taken over after leaving the coffee-shop but he was finally fronting again after a few days. Steven squints his eyes at Marc but relents ‘alright fine, I don’t know what to text her…I think she might be waiting for me to initiate conversation…’ ‘You realise we wouldn't have this issue if I had fronted and you wouldn't have had the chance to fall in love like a desperate teen-boy’ ‘I thought you said you lay off with the mean comments! And i am NOT in love-’

‘yeahyeah, you’ve never had a girlfriend have you? You must be reeaaally nervous…’ he adds in a singsong voice. Marc won’t let up, he’s being dragged into this mess so he might as well have a bit of fun. ‘Okay now I know you’re just takin’ the piss- are you gonna help me or not?’ Steven says fully aware of his embarrassing situation. ‘Alright, you text and I tell ya how to start, alright?’

‘Oh bollocks- uum okok I-I can do this..’ Steven is fronting now sitting on the office-chair and stares at his phone screen, starting with a simple introduction.

steven is typing...

‘Hiya- it’s me Steven!’

He had written, deleted and rewritten the message about six times before finally sending it.

You answered very quickly, you’d been waiting for him to text since you got home a few days ago. Processing everything that happened between you and steven- and well, Jake.

‘hi:) glad to hear from you. I wanted to apologise for leaving so abruptly, but it was all a bit much to process and i was running super late for work haha…i hope you understand’

‘Of course luv. If you’ve got any questions you can always ask, I hope you know that.’

‘i do’

‘i was actually hoping to ask you some questions on that date you promised me;)’

You seemed a bit more forward over text and Steven did not mind it one bit, since it was just the push he needed.

‘Right! I thought we could meet friday? There's this great vegan restaurant, I'd love to take you there?’

‘sounds great! could you pass me the address of the place?’

‘No need luv- I’ll pick you up.’

‘oh!’

‘that works too’

You hadn’t realised the age gap until this moment. They were probably around 10 years older than you with you being in your mid-twenties. You did notice the wrinkles and silver strands when you first saw Jake but hadn’t really thought about the fact that he was about a decade older than you. Just now as he offered to pick you up did you realise the generational difference. You didn’t have an issue with it, you’ve always liked your partners to be a bit older so this definitely wasn’t a turnoff. If anything it only amplified your attraction.

‘I’d love your address’

‘Whenever you get the chance to send it:)’

‘right! sending it now…’

You send him your address.

‘Thanks luv. Alright, I’ll see you Friday at 7pm then?’

‘yes! see you tomorrow steven<3’

He sat back, setting his phone on the sink. ‘Alright there's your date’

‘Thanks for taking over, Marc- couldn’t have done it alone’

‘Relax Steven- this was just texting. But you realise I can’t just take over during the date, right?’

‘Of course I know that…doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stand by just in case…’

‘So- wait, what are we gonna do with Jake's notebook?’

‘I uuhm couldn't find anything besides drawings and sketches of her…I mean at least we had those, otherwise we would’ve never found out about him loaning that book.’

‘By the way…we know Jake likes her as well, by getting to know her better, we have a chance of actually luring Jake out-’

‘That might be true but that's not our goal! I- I actually like her…she might become my first proper girlfriend, I don't wanna mess this up.’ Steven is adamant on getting to know you, very hopeful of the connection he feels towards you. An almost magnetic pull he felt between you, one he has never felt with anyone before.

Marc chuckles at the reminder but reassures Steven, ‘And we won't, I promise, you will do fine Steven’

Friday

It’s 4 am. You’ve been trying to sleep for the past four hours but the thought of getting to see Steven and possibly Jake later today was not letting you relax. If anything it was causing a very persistent tension…in places you really dont wanna delve into. In fact, you’re trying really hard not to think about that tension, which might be the exact reason as to why you can’t seem to find your way to a peaceful slumber. You try to distract yourself by thinking of how this all even started. The way Jake intrigued you since the beginning and had you speechless every time he appeared. And you think about steven- steven who's the polar opposite to jake and is this shy sweetheart that can’t seem to even look you in the eyes but somehow managed to bluntly ask you out on a date. You keep thinking about them and their differences and analyse them, not noticing your eyes slowly shutting closed and your thoughts slowly forming into vivid dreams based on your memories with the boys…you sit up in your bed abruptly remembering your texts with steven. Realising you had shared your private address with a fucking stranger…you hold your head in your hands and push your palms into your eye-sockets trying to calm down. You don't actually know shit about these men…you really should’ve told your friends about them cuz literally no one knows about these encounters. But truly it was all so bizarre and absurd that you really didn’t want your friends to spoil it for you by using anything close to logic or realism. To maybe argue that they could have anything untoward in mind with you.

You lay back down and finally feel a wave of exhaustion hit you. You want to believe that they actually maybe even like you…of course there is a possibility that Steven only asked you out to find out more about Jake. oh and marc, was it? You wonder what he might be like and if he's anything like his alters. You turn from your clock having hit 5am and finally force yourself into sleep.

You wake up to your alarm blaring and prepare yourself for work. You start the day groggy and tired due to only sleeping four hours. But just the thought of your date tonight has you motivated enough to hurry up and catch the next bus.

Moonboys POV

Marc woke up around noonish since Steven took forever to finally fall asleep. Lately he’d been better but last night he was as jittery as a six year old the night before christmas. Currently standing in the kitchen brewing himself a cup of black coffee and prepping his mug with two brown sugars. ‘So loverboy, what are you planning for tonight?’ He says while wearing an amused smirk on his face.

‘Okay well first off, cool it with the nicknames yeah? And secondly you literally texted it for me yesterday. We are goin’ to my favourite restaurant.’ Steven replies proudly while also ashamed for not even having the balls to text you himself. ‘About that…I don’t think that place is open right now- in fact I think all the restaurants are closed today, no?’ Marc remarks and pours himself the long awaited bitter brew. ‘Wha-Whatareyousayin mate??’

‘Well’ He clears his throat ‘when I woke up I saw today's date and remembered that today is that weird holiday, the only thing open are convenience stores and the 24-hour Tesco’ he says, his voice laced in an amused tone and takes a slow sip of his sweetened coffee. ‘Bollocks- what am I gonna do?...I could cook?’ ‘Steven’ ‘No, I-i can't even make a- a salad! How the hell am i supposed to cook for her if I can't cook marc?!’ he says panicked ‘Steven’ marc sternly interrupts, carefully putting his half empty mug on the counter

‘I can help you. I may not be amazing at it but I can remember a few things from- from what our dad taught us.’ Marc and Steven rarely talked about their past but recently they were kinda forced to deal with it. Just the fact that they, let alone Marc, can mention anything from that time so casually is kind of a huge step for them.

Marc and Steven spend the rest of the day planning, buying and preparing the food for the date. The time comes when Steven has to take over the body to get ready to pick you up. He finds a shirt in the back of his closet- same oversized cut as his others but a bit less casual and more sleek looking than the usual shirts he wears. His hair is as unruly and fluffy as usual despite Marc insisting on sleeking it back. He convinces him to use some curling cream he had found in the back of the bathroom drawer.

Steven applies it sceptically, coming to the conclusion that it does look pretty good. He makes his way to your address making sure to ring on the right door. Basically buzzing from anxiety, Marc is doing everything to keep him calm and rehearse with him what he was gonna do and say when you ringed him in and opened your door, knowing full well, that all the preparation would fly out the window when he actually met you…Jake is silently watching this all transpire and cant help but be amused at all this, not admitting that he was actually a bit nervous himself.

You came back from work tired BUT extremely excited to get ready. You had to stay a bit longer than anticipated and thus only had about one hour to get ready. Hopping in the shower as quickly as possible you try to calm down under the warm streams of water hitting your body, melting all the tension out of your back, shoulders and sore legs. Work had been exhausting and this shower was proving to get difficult to leave. But the alarm you had set to remind yourself of the time, successfully cut your relaxation short. You quickly exited your shower wrapping your body in a fluffy white towel. Wiping the steamy mirror to see your reflection more clearly, you start getting ready. Adding whatever products you use to your hair and applying sweet smelling lotion to your body, basically doing any- and everything to make you feel as confident and ready as possible for your date, who was supposed to arrive iiiin…twenty minutes?!

You hurried your makeup routine and rushed to your room quickly picking out an outfit you felt sexy in but also had a grounding and comfy vibe. You threw on a beige knitted sweater, which had an oversized fit with a mini-jean skirt. Paired with sheer brown tights, thigh-high beige cashmere socks and brown leather knee-high, high-heeled boots. Finishing off the look with your favourite jewellery and accessories, you look over at the clock. It's 6.50pm and you are just adding the last finishing touches to your look and making sure you've moved all the important things from your ‘work-bag’ to your ‘going out purse’ when the door rings. ‘He's here’ you mutter to yourself, running to the door making sure it's him and pushing the button to the intercom. ‘Yes, hello?’

a/n: hope yall liked this chapterrr- in the next chapter you'll be able to read all about the date and i am SO excited for yall to read about it *squeals* don't mean to toot my own horn but GURL it's so good i already wanna post it ♪(´▽｀)

The lovely people in my taglist: @lilladyblink14 @lemongirl5910

please notify me if you want to be added/ removed from the Taglist<3

#ponchosworks<3 #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #transfixedseries

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guilty-pleasures21 · 2 months

Text

The perfect guy

I have decided to follow a Monday/Thursday schedule, friends. Note: the list of chapters currently released only includes the ones I've already written and drafted as posts. I still have a few more coming, so fret not my thirsty friends!

Also, I hope everyone has an easy week 🥰.

The project

The new guy

The lie

The new body

The hospital

The first time

The suit

The virus

The escape

Warnings: None

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Margo strode past the grumpy, dark-haired scientist hunched over his desk. “New girl’s coming tomorrow.”

Eddie grunted in acknowledgement of her pointless statement: he didn’t need someone else to come and mess up all the research he’d already done. No, what he really needed was a living test subject - someone into whom he could code the genetic sequences he'd been working on in order to study their effects on humans. Margo stepped back to his bench and placed a hand on her hip.

“I hope this isn’t the attitude you’ll be giving her on her first day.” She folded her arms across her chest and leaned closer to him, her eyes narrowing and her frown curling up at the ends into a wicked smile. “Save it for the third day.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and waved her away, too focused on mixing his PCR reagents together. He’d have to make sure to keep this new girl far, far away from his research.

“And they’ll let me stay with you?” Miguel asked quickly, the speed of his response making up for the lack of hopefulness in his tone. It wasn't his fault he didn't know what it felt like to hope though. X scrolled through the contract again.

“Yup!” she confirmed. “I made sure they put that in there.”

“But …” Miguel paused, running through the list of topics he'd noted down that she didn't like talking about. He couldn't find what he wanted to ask anywhere on it, so he pressed on. “Would you still want me? If I had powers like that?”

He was referring to the arachnid powers that the military wanted to encode into his future human body: one of the stipulations they’d included in exchange for their support with her research. But it didn't matter to her - nothing mattered as long as she got to see him, to touch him, to hold him tight and inhale the scent of him, whatever it would be. She grinned at the thought. “Of course! The powers are just … They don’t take anything away from you. You’re still you.”

Miguel smiled back at her, sparking at her response. “Have you signed it?”

X snickered at his enthusiasm. “No: I wanted to check with you first. You’ve run all the possibilities?”

Miguel took a moment to run through the contract again.

“You’ll own me, but they’ll own all your research,” he summarised. “That means that they could make thousands of other people just like me if it works.” X's stomach curdled at the thought. She knew it was a great risk, giving the scarily well-funded military the opportunity to build their own ‘super soldiers’ but … she wanted to be selfish.

“We can deal with that when we come to it,” X decided finally, not wanting to dampen her excitement at finally being able to be with Miguel. “Maybe you can just pretend to get sick or something?”

Miguel nodded eagerly in agreement.

“Okay.” Whatever it took to be with her, he’d do it. “I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you, mi amor. Te-” ‘Te amo, querida,’ he wanted to tell her. But he couldn’t tell her that because he didn’t know what it actually meant to love someone. And she’d always wave him off whenever he’d tried to say it before, dismissing him with a non-committal hum that had his processing speed slowing down. So he’d just stopped saying it all together.

She smiled at how easily he'd always say it. He’d always tell her he loved her with such conviction that she could almost believe it was true. But she was terrified to let herself believe it until he was a real human being upon whom she could shower all her love and be loved in return.

“I …” She swallowed the words down, still unable to say it, not yet. “I want you too, Miguel.” Her lips curled at the ends at the thought and he felt his code start to speed up again.

“When do you start?” he asked, impatient for the day he'd finally be able to see her smile without the screen coming in the way.

“As soon as I sign the contract,” she replied, uncapping her stylus and holding it over the tablet. “So probably tomorrow.”

“Scan it once you’re done - I’ll send it over immediately.” His words came out faster than normal and X laughed at his eagerness.

“No blackouts, Miguel,” she warned him, signing her name on the contract and promising the research she’d spent a lifetime working on to the military. Miguel smiled, sparking at the happiness on her face.

“No blackouts, querida.”

“And this is Eddie,” Margo introduced, stopping at his bench with their new recruit, “the Spiderman nerd you’ll be stuck with for the next few years.” Eddie snorted as he adjusted the focus on his microscope.

“Let’s see how she survives the next few days,” he challenged, unimpressed. Then he scowled at Margo's insult. “And I am not a ‘Spiderman nerd’.” He turned to shoot her a glare, but then his gaze landed on the new girl and he paused. She was pretty - in a cute way. Long eyelashes, perfectly almond-shaped eyes, rosy lips. And she had a nice figure too, if he had any time outside of his research to think about that sort of thing. X's eyes widened with awe as she met his gaze.

“You’re the one who figured out how to incorporate the arachnid DNA into human DNA?” They'd allowed her access to all their confidential files once she’d sent over the signed contract and she'd spent almost the entire night going over it with Miguel. “Okay, so, can I go over the web-shooters with you? So, we’ll need a secretory organ to make those work, right? Do you think we could make it open up beneath his fingernails or something? I don’t want him to be exposed to the outside environment so close to his blood vessels.” She pulled out the chair beside him and took a seat, waiting for his response as he digested her words.

“Uh, sure,” he replied, a little talen aback by her enthusiasm. Her first day and she already wanted to jump right into it? He turned to face her, considering all the alternatives himself. “But then wouldn’t his fingernails stop the webs from shooting out?”

X stopped to think about it, her head tilting to the side and her lips pursing in a way that made his chest start to warm.

“Hmm, that makes sense. What about …” She grabbed a nearby piece of paper to start jotting down all their ideas, and he wondered if maybe they would get along after all.

Tags: @jadeloverxd

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thelikesoffinn · 5 months

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Hello Finn! You said you'd give advice for fanfiction, I think and I'm a bit desperate so I hope you can help me!

A follower asked me to write about Tav killing herself to be free from ascended Astarion and I have a lot of trouble with writing his reaction because I really don't know how he'd react to that???? It's stressig me out so much pls help me

Hello there, petal!

I think this ask has been sitting in my inbox for a while, I'm so sorry. I haven't been on top of it lately. (But I'm getting to it, I swear! I know a few people are still asking why I hate Astarions reaction to Tav's romp with Mizora and I'll definitely get to that, do not fret!)

But anyway, let's see how I can help, shall we? I did a bit of research and watched a ton of ascended Astarion content so that I could actually give you proper advice and ohhh boy, when I tell you that I've had clients like him before...blegh. But, as always, do take it with a grain of salt because I'm no expert. Just a social worker with a lot of time to watch vampire videos, apparently, haha.

So, to recap: Your Tav committs suicide in order to escape from ascended Astarions grasp. And I guess he only finds out after, seeing as you need his reaction, yes?

I can see why that would be stressful, but it's probably less because you really don't know how he'd react and more because there's a disconnect between the reaction he'd actually have and the reaction we all want.

As both a writer and a reader I'm not ashamed to admit that I'd want him to suffer. I'd want him to realise all his faults and where he went wrong and I'd want him to cry because he fucked it all up, so much so that he's now lost the one person that loved him despite everything he has done.

But with ascended Astarion, I don't think a reaction like that would be very likely. True vampires are a bit difficult when it comes to things like guilt and shame and loss, as in they don't really seem to take it the way normal people would.

Or, rather: They can't react to them the same way normal people would.

Where a normal person would go through an entire circle of mourning, a true vampire is probably going to throw a tantrum and create a demiplane that he can sulk in. (Looking at you, Strahd.)

Instead of sadness, It's very likely that he'd react with anger. A LOT of anger. The anger likely won't be self-directed - at most a little annoyance because he didn't lock them up harder and more securely - but it will most definitely be directed at Tav.

I don't think I need to explain that while ascended Astarion does not really love Tav anymore he does want them.

Tav is his. Their entire being belongs to just him. Only he get's to decide when and if they're allowed to die. They're his to destroy and his alone. So how dare they kill themself without his permission? How dare they take away what's rightfully his!?

And just as anger replaces sadness, it's very likely that blame overshadows guilt and shame. So he doesn't feel shame over how he treated Tav. He doesn't feel guilt over how he drove them to suicide. No, instead he blames Tav for their decision because they're spoiled and unthankful.

He is not the problem, they are. He gave them everything. Everything one could ever want, they had. He game them power. He gave them wealth. A palace. A life filled with all sorts of pleasure, right by his side. He granted them eternal fucking life. What more could they want? What more could anyone want? He did everything for them, and they threw it right back at him like a spoiled little brat. He should've been sterner, should've kept them on a tighter leash. Should have showed them his bad side so that they'd learn what staying on his good side meant.

The only thing he'd probably actually feel is loss, but once again... it'd be different. It's probably less the gut-wrenching feeling of loneliness that suddenly haunts you when you remember that you won't ever get to speak to someone again because they're no longer here and more the upset of loosing a beloved item. So more of a 'fucking hell that was my favourite fucking thing and now it's gone'. There'd probably be some despair in there because he can't simply replace Tav but that despair is, once again, likely tied to his possessiveness and not to true loss. He'd be desperate because he wants them - he wants them - but not because he's just lost the one he loves.

That's probably the reaction I'd expect of ascended Astarion and, as you can tell: It's not what one would expect of a fanfiction, yes? We'd expect the heartbreak and the sorrow, the guilt and the tears because we love Astarion and Astarion is supposed to love Tav. We want him to love Tav. And those who like him ascended want him to love Tav even as his ascended self.

Now, does that mean the reaction I described wouldn't make a good stroy? Absolutely not! In fact, I do believe it would be a nice switch up in between the very heavily romanticised ascended-fics because it adds that shot of realism. (As much realism as a high-elf-vampire can have, at least.)

So, what I'm trying to say is: Don't worry too much about what is "correct" and what isn't and instead focus on what you want to achieve. If you want to hit your readers with the sad truth of ascended Astarion, maybe go for the approach I described. And if you want to be a bit softer and more romantic, have the boy cry tears of woe.

Or you could go totally crazy and do both things - have someone watch him and describe how they see it - the points I just mentioned - but once you describe what's happening inside him, go full on romance novel and break our hearts!

Find your own path, petal, I'm sure it will be a lovely read either way!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate #bg3 tav #tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate tav #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion romance #bg3 astarion #bg3 asks #astarion x reader #ascended astarion

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communicationthroughlyrics · 8 days

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I Like Your Blood On My Teeth Just A Little Too Much - 16

You're a former military, career oriented security executive who has made quite the living for yourself- but it has always been lacking. Your non-committal attitude has led you down a playgirl lifestyle, never really settling. What happens when your new boss throws you a curveball, and as a result? You end up hopelessly involved with a Hollywood starlet.

A/N: Shorter chapter, as I work through some of the thick stuff. TW- torture/abuse, brief mention of coma, blood. Definite angst.

2.2K Word Count

“Now, aren’t you glad that you moved into these luxury apartments, that have… Every. Unit. Soundproofed?” He punctuated each word by cinching the knots on your hands and feet tighter before he tied your waist down to the base of the chair. “I’m not even going to bother trying to keep you quiet, no one will hear you anyway.”

“What do you mean, Waters…” you tapered off as he disappeared behind you. You grimaced as you felt cold steel at the base of your neck, a shiver being sent down your spine as he trailed it down your neck and he walked back in front of you. You could feel a slight warmth and a drip, so you knew he drew blood. “Waters, what are you doing? Do you think this is going to change anything?” You asked, watching as he took his time tracing some of your visible tattoos with the blade in his hand. At this point, you were glad you told Kris an hour. “This is only going to make things worse for you, Waters.”

“Shut. UP.” He snarled at you, before hooking the buttons of your shirt with the end of the knife, and slowly working it up, popping the buttons and sending them flying in various directions across your kitchen. “How about, you just keep that disgusting mouth of yours shut, hmmm?” He leaned in a wry smile on his features. “I think it’s been long overdue for you to get your last lesson, what do you think?” He ran the blade along the side of your face, giving you a cut that mirrored the scar that now ran along his face. In your research, you found out he had been involved in a nasty prison brawl that resulted in him receiving a large laceration on his face.

“Fuck off.” You growled back.

“Tsk tsk… such a shame.” He ran the blade again along your cheek, a sharp pain emanating as he cut from the bridge of your nose to the apex of your cheekbone. “You could have been good. Really good.” He continued to run the blade over various parts of your body but was concentrating on your face and neck, which made you extremely nervous. He suddenly grabbed your face, roughly, squeezing your jaw in a vise-like grip, forcing you to look at him. You watched as he brought the 12-inch blade up and felt him trace your jawline, before bringing the blade up and digging it into the scar on your eyebrow from all those years ago.

“Fuck!” You yelled as he dug the blade deeper, cutting further than your original scar had. You felt the blood begin to run down your face, burning as it pooled in your eye, blurring your vision. He laughed maniacally as you wiggled in the chair, working your wrists together to try and loosen the rope, which felt like it was only getting tighter. “Waters, just leave her alone. She was…she was just doing what she was paid to do. She isn’t even Russian, Waters. Just…just get your retribution with me… and leave her out of it…”

“Ohhh… Y/L/N. You cannot seriously believe that this is purely because of some character she played…” he paced in circles around you, so you let your head fall backward to keep the blood out of your eye. “This, this is a message, Y/L/N. We’re sending a message to the scum that everyone calls ‘Hollywood Elite’, that they are all tarnishing the image of this country you and I fought to protect.”

“What image is that, Waters?” You growl, your head hanging low as the blood from your face drips onto your knee, you watch it out of your good eye as it seeps into the fabric of your pants. He let out a maniacal laugh as he continued to walk around the chair you were tied to. You hoped to get him going on a tangent, to get him talking so it would take longer before he presumably did to you what he did all those years ago- and if you got him to talk enough, to stall enough, then I would be long enough for Kris to hopefully send someone to you.

“Hollywood, the film industry, has always portrayed this convoluted image of what this country is, what it stands for…” your laugh, disrupting his rant, and causing him to stop pacing. “SHUT. UP.” He points the knife in your direction, giving you a crazed look.

“Mmhmm. Okay. Continue.” You respond.

“As I was saying…They portray this nation through a lens. We are never the aggressor- always passive. The ways we are portrayed, it's like they want us to look… weak. Like we are too wrapped up in ourselves to care about what anyone else is doing. ”

“You’re delusional, Waters. We are literally like that.”

“SHUT. IT.” He screamed, slamming his hands onto the countertop behind you. You throw your hands up in defeat.

“Fine. Shutting it.”

“See?! You’re part of the fucking problem! You can’t honestly believe that we are oblivious to everything. We have threats from the inside, out. Your little project is one of them. You may believe that she is some poor little movie star, but she is part of the problem. You may believe she’s innocent in this, but she is just as guilty as the next guy. These movies your ‘client’ plays in, are popular, and they’re colorful. But they portray a simple, almost basic, and nonviable notion of what our combat looks like. What our hell looks like.”

“Waters, you and I have a different sense of what hell looks like.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Y/N. You sent me to a literal hell on earth. You RUINED my life.”

“No, I didn’t do a damn thing, Steven. I merely existed, and YOU… you decided to act in the way you did. You ruined your life, I didn’t.”

“I was helping you.”

“Helping me, my ass.”

“Oh don’t pretend that a small part of you didn’t enjoy it. You know that part of you yearned for that kind of attention. To be normal.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I am normal. You’re the sick one in this equation.”

“Mhmm… keep telling yourself that. That is why this assignment is so… perfect. I can take care of the one who ruined me, and one of the largest celebrities ruining this country. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “STOP with the attitude.” He stands in front of you, lowering his gaze to your level. He runs the backside of the knife up your face, before placing the tip parallel to the scar over your eye. With a quick flick, he adds another cut. “Now, time for me to…finish what I started.”

You felt like it had been sufficiently long enough that someone should be here by now. You could feel the blood running down the right side of your face. You were about to look up, but the sudden force to the side of your face knocked you unconscious.

***KRIS POV***

“Fuck!” You screamed as the phone went straight to voicemail for the third time. You knew better, you really did. You knew she wouldn’t answer. She had put the phone in airplane mode. You knew that. You just hoped that she would answer. Slamming the phone onto your desk, you ran to the elevator, repeatedly pushing the button to Cliff and Paul's floor. “Cmon, cmon cmon… fucking slow ass elevator! I just need to get up there!” As soon as the door opened, you ran down the hall to Paul's office, barging into his office without knocking. The look of shock on his face says it all.

“Ms. Smith, what seems to be the issue?”

“It’s Y/L/N. Something is wrong.”

“Well, yes. That’s why we sent her home. She’s not right, right now.”

“No, no, NO! That’s not what I mean. She left, and I got a text from her. She said something wasn’t right, to bump Johanssons security, and if I didn’t hear from her in an hour that he was at her apartment. Something. Isn’t. Right.” You punctuate each point.

“Who is at her apartment, Smith?” Another voice asks. You turn, seeing Zlatkov sitting across the room.

“Waters, boss. They have a history. He isn’t just hunting Scarlett anymore. When he found out that her team was going to hire us, and that Y/N is our head of all major projects, he started following her too.”

“What makes you so certain Y/N was being followed?” Cliff asked.

“Shit… she, uhhh… she told me. Kind of. ”

“That makes no sense, Kris.” Paul chimed in.

“It started with someone watching from across the street from her apartment here. She was followed from her house in Montana, and she’s been getting calls. Each time, they’re not long enough to trace. All from different numbers. But they’re from him.”

“What am I missing here?” Cliff asked you and Paul. Paul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I think it’s time we make a little field trip,” Paul says, gathering his coat from the back of his chair. Cliff shoots you a confused look, and you just shrug.

“Hold on, I need to know what’s going on!” Cliff yells, causing both of you to look his way.

“Cliff, do you remember when we were in the process of hiring Y/N, and her military file was partially redacted?”

“Yes.”

You let out a deep sigh, knowing where this was going. You knew some of the details of what had happened to Y/N during her time in the Army, deep discussions that had been held in twilight hours, nights where there had been full of lust and passion. Nights that trust had been built, and you have a sneaky suspicion that the trust you had built was about to be shattered. You hadn’t been made privy to all the details, but enough that you knew why she did what she did, and what made her tick.

“Okay, we’ll keep that in mind. Now, let’s go. It doesn’t sound like we have much time. ” Paul looks your way, before turning and walking out of his office. You quickly followed Cliff right behind you.

“Where do we need to go?” Cliff asked, as Paul fished the keys to his work vehicle out of his pocket, and headed towards the elevator.

“We’re going to pay a visit to the one person besides Y/N who can give us some answers.”

The drive was silent and short, but to say that you and Cliff were both utterly confused when you pulled up in front of the hospital was an understatement.

“The only person who can give us some answers is Grange,” Paul answered the questioning look in the rearview mirror.

“But Grange is in a coma.” You respond eyebrow quipped as you climb out of the SUV.

“Nope. He was woken up this morning. I hadn’t gotten the chance yet to tell Y/L/N.” Paul responded as Cliff stood nodding his head.

“Ahh. So let's bombard him with the news that somebody that he regards as a daughter is likely being held by a psycho. And ask about her past. Awesome.” Paul cringed at the sarcasm, understanding your hesitance with this scenario.

“It’s not ideal, no. But it will give us an idea of who this guy really is… and why Y/N is so rattled.”

You all shuffled into the hospital, flashing your work badges to gain entry past the two guards standing by the elevator to the level Jim was on. Your company had set up multiple checkpoints, particularly with Jim being unconscious. The very real possibility of a retaliatory attack loomed, so guards and undercover were scattered throughout the hospital. The elevator door dinged, and you three walked down the corridor, towards the guarded room where Jim was. He was staring out the window as they approached, the sounds of their heels and shoes clicking down the hallway causing him to look their way. He had a smile, but it quickly faded as he realized how serious they were.

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked as soon as everyone was in his room. Your stomach dropped as he looked right at you.

“That’s why we’re here, Grange. It would seem that a certain someone from her past has made an appearance. We wanted to ask you to fill in the blanks.” Paul unbuttoned his sports coat, sitting in one of the chairs at the end of the bed. Jimmy scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, you could say that sick son of a bitch is back. This isn’t just an appearance. But I’m confused as to why you need to ask me. It’s Y/N that needs to tell you. If she hasn’t, then she doesn’t want to tell anyone.”

Whew. He said what you were thinking the entire way over here.

“Well, unfortunately, it is now interfering with this project, and her work. So we need to know what you do.” Cliff chimed in.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself, then?” He looked between the three of you.

“That’s the thing, Jimmy. We think that he has her right now.” You finally spoke, Jim’s face going pale when he realized the weight of what was just said.

“Then…” he sighed, rubbing between his eyes. “You need to be helping her. Finding her. You can ask us after the fact. You shouldn’t be here asking me to tell you what only she can tell.”

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #ilybomtjaltm #scarlett johansson x fem!reader #scarlett johansson x you #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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astroismypassion · 3 months

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Hello there! What are your thoughts on mars opposite jupiter in the natal chart?

Hi,

it's hard to stay focused, but even more so motivated. These people get motivated easily, yet they have a hard time staying motivated. They could have more of a subconscious fear of committment in romantic partnerships. They want the ideal romance, partnership, yet they fear it won't be enough or they will get bored of it. They also are masters of self improvement, so they want a partner to grow and expand with them. And I'm not gonna lie, this is hard to find. That's why they are single for a long time. Because they find stagnant partners who won't want to grow with them. They like someone who is on the same self evolving, self improvement journey. They also marry or partner up rather late, even after 30 or they jump from one person to another due to searching for the one that would fit more to their personality, habits. They also are constantly learning in new nonformal ways, the type to read a book per week, watch educational video and read educational resources on any topic of their choice. They actually strive for education, yet have the most intense time, stress time during it. These people get easily stressed out when in higher education, their energy runs out quickly, that's why a lot of these people love education, yet still find it stressful.

A lot of these people will say that they absolutely love acquiring knowledge and information, but don't enjoy the process of studying, learning, going to the lectures, writing thesis, writing research papers, because they get easily stressed out during those times. It impacts their health directly too.

@astroismypassion

#astroblr #astro notes #astro note #astro observations #astroismypassion #astro community #astrology #natal chart #astrology blog #chart reading

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halfmoth-halfman · 9 months

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fear of the water (i.)

Spider-verse/Subnautica Crossover Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Spider!Reader Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: animal cruelty, animal injury, it's a water planet and the fish are very sick and wild, disease, illness, blood, body horror, tentacles (kinda) A/N: this is going to be two parts because i got caught up playing subnautica while doing "research" for this LMAO (ii.)

It starts with a fish.

A single, blue-hued fish no bigger than his fist with a small yellow beak and two massive yellow eyes to match.

One minute he’s talking to Lyla, trying to determine why his watch has been showing him encrypted messages, and the next, the lab is illuminated in orange, and a wet plop echoes across the room.

Miguel stares as the fish slaps against the polished floor. It stares back at him with its large, blinking eye as its pointed tailfin worms against the ground. Thin tube-like organs stretch its body, one from the top of its head and one from the bottom. Three holes run along the side of its small body in place of gills. The water that drips from its slimy, scaleless skin is almost clear and glistens light blue under the lights.

“Should we help it?” Lyla asks, materializing next to the fish to poke at the tube-like organ on the fish’s head.

Miguel looks up, dark eyes searching for the portal that allowed this fish in here. There’s nothing there, no sign of where this fish came from.

“Set up a tank for it,” Miguel says, eyes dropping back down to the struggling fish. Lyla nods, giving the fish one last look before disappearing. Miguel watches it wrestle against the ground for two long seconds before carefully sliding a hand under it and picking it up. It’s cold to the touch but seems to calm as the warmth from his hands sink into its body.

The struggling stops, and, for a moment, Miguel thinks the fish has finally died in his hands.

The fish blinks, the bright yellow of its eye flashing a bright, sickly green as it snaps its head to the right and sinks its beak into the meat of Miguel’s palm.

It’s no more than a light pinch, not even enough to tear his skin, but it startles him enough that he almost drops it. The fish lets go, settling back down into his hands.

“Got a tank!” He turns back to his desk, Lyla beaming at him from where she sits on the edge of a desktop aquarium filled with water. Miguel hums his thanks, dropping the fish into the tank.

It sinks directly to the bottom of the tank, landing on the glass with a dull thud.

It sits there for ten seconds before it blinks, the holes in its body flexing as they filter in water. The fish springs to life, shooting through the water to explore its new environment.

“What’re we gonna name him?” Lyla asks, swirling her hand on the water's surface. The fish follows along, trying to nudge at her hand.

“You pick,” Miguel says non-committally, thumb running across the small, dented bite on his hand. “I need to run some tests.”

That night, he dreams only of water.

Unable to move, he stands on a beach made of pale sand and trees with bulbous fruit that glows at night. He’s forced to look out over an endless ocean of pitch-black waves crashing over each other as a giant red moon circles the star-littered sky.

Fish leap out of the water in front of him, splashing in the pitch-black depths and staring back at him with big eyes of bioluminescent yellow.

A sense of calmness washes over him, a strange, unfamiliar feeling of peace.

It does not last long.

The sound of hundreds of rocks grinding together echoes behind him, the fish darting back beneath the water and scattering. He can’t turn, limbs refusing his commands, and he’s forced to listen to the low electric hum that buzzes into his bones.

A horn blows once. Twice.

A flock of strange birds fly overhead, desperate to escape it.

He hears the buzz again, like something powering up, before the heat of a titanic explosion blasts against his back. It feels as if his eardrums burst with the blast as the sky rains metal and bodies.

Miguel is forced to watch a spaceship bigger than buildings crash into the water and slowly sink into its inky depth until nothing remains but floating debris, destroyed life pods, and not a survivor in sight.

The waves still, and the water before him bubbles and bubbles and bubbles.

Fish rise to the surface in droves, unmoving and covered in glowing green pustules that pop and bleed into the water.

There’s a wailing from the water, something screaming in fear and desperation and heartbreak. It grows louder and louder until the ground beneath him quakes so violently it sends him face-first into the sickly green water.

He wakes before he hits the ground, limbs unusually stiff with the taste of iron on his tongue as sweat drips from his body.

He heads straight to the lab, not bothering to get dressed, and finds the fish waiting, staring at him with those bright, yellow eyes.

The fish is alien; that much is clear.

It’s not from any universe known to him, Lyla, or Margo. They poke and prod at the thing, trying not to comment on how it seems to want them to. Tests are run over and over and over.

Everything comes back inconclusive.

Miguel follows this routine for a week. The fish plagues his days while the dreams haunt his nights. With each passing day, he feels worse, limbs growing heavier, brain throbbing against his skull at all hours. The lack of answers frustrates him to oblivion. The mystery of this stupid fish vexes him in ways he wouldn’t have considered.

He doesn’t know what to make of it, his brain and body running ragged by the week’s end.

If he could get the flu, Miguel would’ve thought that’s what he had when he awoke in the middle of the night exactly eight days after the fish landed on his doorstep.

He stumbles from his bed, body screaming in protest as fever burns through him. His vision blurs, a swirl of greens, blues, and purples, and his mind is flooded with images of those deep, dark waters.

The fish. He has to see the fish.

Miguel staggers to his lab, half-dressed and nearly delusional. He thinks he hears Lyla’s voice in the distance, but he doesn’t see her anywhere, mind focused only on getting to the fish.

The door to his lab slides open, and the fish floats in the center of the tank, staring right at him.

Anger and frustration take over as Miguel forces himself to his desk, shoving his hand into the tank to grab onto the unmoving fish. He yanks it from the water, ready to throw it with all of his strength.

“ꜱᴛᴏᴘ.”

His body tenses, eyes darting around the room for the source of the voice.

“ᴡʜᴀᴛ...ꜱᴇᴇᴋ...”

The voice echoes all around him, echoing in and outside of his mind.

“ᴡᴀɴᴛ...ʜᴇʟᴘ.”

It sounds like it’s coming from…

Miguel stares down at the fish in his iron grip. It gazes back unblinking, tinges of green swirling around its massive eyes.

“...ʏᴏᴜ.”

The fish’s skin erupts, dozens of glowing green pustules rising from its slimy flesh and bursting onto Miguel’s. It burns like acid eating away at his skin, and Miguel screams, dropping the fish back into the tank.

His arm twitches and bends involuntarily, the bright green mucus-like liquid sliding up his arm and sinking into his muscles. His legs collapse beneath him as he scrubs furiously at his arm, desperately trying to stop the trail of green climbing up to his shoulders.

The fish shoots around the tank, slamming itself into the glass.

The infection reaches Miguel’s neck. Like ice stabbing into his veins, it drags up his neck and wraps around his vocal cords. The pain keeps sound from escaping as he lets out a silent scream.

The fish crushes its beak against the bottom of the tank. Dim, yellow blood drifts from its beak as it turns and slams its right eye against the glass.

Miguel can feel it climbing up his neck and into his jaw. He tastes it in the back of his throat, bile and iron.

The fish’s eye swells shut, a green blister forming on its eyelid almost instantly, growing and growing until it ruptures.

Miguel feels it pressing against his eyes as if they’re about to burst from his skull. He squeezes his eyes shut, and his vision is flooded with swirls of blue of purple.

Glass shatters in front of him, and Miguel peels his eyes open to find the tank on the floor. The fish lays before him, half-melted into a pile of bright green goo.

A spiral of purple crosses his vision and whirls to form the vague outline of a person.

“ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ...ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ɴᴏᴡ.”

The voice reverberates inside his head, the person reaches toward him, and the world fades around him.

He’s on the beach again.

The waters crash around him, sliding up the sand to caress his bare feet.

Miguel stares out over the endless ocean, but something’s different this time. Sunlight reflects off the calm waters, a soft breeze blows against his hair, and small grains of sand drift into his face. He grimaces, turning to roll onto his back.

A palm-like tree with round fruit rests over him, and a bird covered in white feathers edged in black stares down at him.

Is this…another dream?

The bird caws—a sound similar to a gull, but higher pitched—spreading its wings wide to reveal a glowing green undercarriage. The bird takes off; its wings connect the bend to its body as it flaps through the air like a manta ray swims in the ocean.

Miguel pushes himself to sit up, groaning at the ache in his body. His body…

He startles—flashes of the half-melted fish crossing his mind—looking over his skin for any signs of the bright green infection that had spread up his arm.

He looks fine, only a small dent where the fish had bitten him. He leans back in the sand, taking in his surroundings.

The sand is almost soft beneath him, the breeze carrying the faintest scent of salt. If he closed his eyes, he could picture himself on a regular beach back home.

Something squeaks beside him, and Miguel nearly jumps when he opens his eyes to find a flat, blue eyeball on four pointed limbs skittering toward him. Instincts take over as the creature leaps, small mandibles aiming for him, and he lands a solid punch to its front left leg. The creature shrieks when it lands, skittering away with a noticeable limp.

Not a dream, then.

Miguel watches the creature run up the beach, heading toward the mountain in the center of the island he’s on, where it disappears into a cave twice as tall as him.

The cave could be a good shelter if more of those things aren’t inside.

He’ll need to find something for food and a way to make a fire.

“Lyla,” he calls, but no one answers. It dawns on him that he’s actually stuck here, on this strange island, in only a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

To the right, the beach ends at a large formation of rocks, and to the left, it disappears into a steep drop-off into the ocean.

The only way he can go is forward, so that’s what he does.

The cave leads deep into the mountain. Thankfully there are plenty of holes in the mountainside to let light in and allow him to see. He finds more of those cave crawlers, but they give him a wide berth after he kicks the first two into the cave walls.

He doesn’t know where he’s going or what he’s meant to be looking for until he trips over it.

It’s warm but hard enough to nearly break his foot when he stumbles on it: a black cable inscribed with symbols that ebb with glowing green symbols. Half of it is buried in the rocky ground, but it’s wide enough that he’d have a hard time fitting his arms around it.

The cable runs along the mountain floor, trailing up a small hill and leading back outside. Miguel follows it, focusing more on the symbols than what lies ahead.

Momentarily blinded by the sunlight, he shields his eyes, waiting for them to adjust.

When the spots in his vision finally clear, his jaw nearly drops at the sight before him.

The ocean stretches out before him, never-ending and glittering black. On the right, the burnt-out carcass of a massive spaceship sits above the surface, still smoldering as the waves lap at its exterior. On the left, the cable runs to a large cubic tower made of the same material, an arch at its base glowing with a green so bright it’s hard to look at.

Miguel’s vision swims with blue and purple before that same silhouette takes form again.

“ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ,” the voice in his head speaks, something in his chest pulling him toward the tower.

“Who are you?” he asks, swatting at the silhouette. His hand passes through, and the figure disperses into the air. Miguel scoffs. Of course, they’d disappear instead of giving him answers.

Left with no other choice, he carefully follows the mountain path down to where a metal bridge leads from the beach to the tower. With the same strange symbols carved into the bridge, Miguel cautiously sets one foot on its surface.

It hums to life, the symbols glowing green beneath his foot. It’s oddly warm, much like the sun-warmed sands of the beach. Nothing else happens, though, and it’s enough for him to decide it’s safe to cross.

The bridge hums as he makes his way across. The arch swirls with green semi-transparent energy, and something on the other side calls to him.

Miguel reaches a hand forward, a brief moment of hesitance before he commits and steps through.

The world around him twists and distorts, a distant wailing vibrating across his ears. His limbs grow too heavy, his mind slipping into a limbo of pain and peace.

There’s a moment where Miguel thinks this may be the end.

But as soon as it comes, it stops, and Miguel is left standing in a pitch-black room on the edge of a glowing blue pool.

He steps back, and the entire room pulses with glowing green symbols before fading into darkness. He looks to the pool, a sudden tightness in his chest followed by the absolute yearning to jump in.

“—ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ,” the voice calls, and he doesn’t know if the echo in the room is in his head.

He listens to its beckoning, one deep breath before diving into the luminous water.

A mistake, he soon realizes.

His muscles tense as soon as he hits the water, locking in place as he slowly sinks down to a platform suspended by chains. He’s in some kind of large chamber, one that looks similar to a well-decorated aquarium. He catches glimpses of schools of fish swimming below the platform as he sinks to it, along with various colorful and glowing flora.

He lands on the platform feet first, something keeping him standing as he struggles against its invisible hold.

He needs to get out. He needs to swim to the surface.

Miguel’s lungs constrict painfully.

He needs air.

A deep groan echoes across the chamber, and Miguel feels the water shift around him, nearly pulling him off his feet.

He’s not alone here.

Something else is in this chamber with him.

Something big.

A dark, spindly limb slithers onto the platform and up the chain to his right. It’s halfway up the chain when a second limb begins curling around the chain to his left. Two more move up onto the platform and anchor themselves on either side of him. Far too big to wrap around his arms, they settle atop his shoulders to keep him anchored in one spot.

Brilliant purple lights flash down the dark skin of these limbs, beautiful swirling patterns that almost distract from the way Miguel’s lungs scream at him.

Skin swirling with flashing purple lights, a creature rises onto the platform before him.

You look human-ish, standing on two legs with two arms and hands clasped in front of you. You’re wearing a black suit that clings to your body and covers every inch of your skin except your hands and feet. What Miguel can see of your skin glows with purple veins that match the blinking patterns of the limbs on his shoulders. He notices they connect to your back, as do the two wrapped around the chains, keeping you hovering just above the platform.

You stare at him, blinking with all four of your glowing purple eyes, head tilted almost curiously.

You glide forward, and Miguel takes note of the other four limbs stretching from your back and draping over the platform's edge. One of them wiggles, twitching slightly before he feels a sharp pinch to the back of his neck.

He inhales, lungs burning as they fill with water. His body feels as if it’s on fire, nerves vibrating as his fingers and toes begin to turn purple.

You blink, at the pain disappears. Limbs loose and back in his control, Miguel chokes and lifts a hand to his neck. He inhales again, and the burn is slight as his lungs adjust and his body changes.

You give him a moment to adjust, watching the realization dawn on him as he inhales and exhales again with ease.

When he finally meets your gaze, your eyes widen, purple lights dancing across your long limbs.

“You are not what I expected,” your voice echoes in his head, clear as day.

“Who are you?” he asks in his mind, harsher than he means to, but not used to the sudden mental connection.

“I am what you seek,” you answer.

“What?” he scoffs.

“Many have tried, and all have failed,” you continue. Miguel narrows his eyes. Your voice sounds…strained like you’re purposely pitching it lower.

“Are you gonna start making sense or—”

“Others came here once,” you muse, looking at the chambers around you solemnly.

“Did you kidnap them too?”

“They built—what?” You stutter, voice losing its low pitch as you turn to him in surprise. “Kidnap? I didn’t kidnap you.”

“No? What would you call it?” Miguel rolls his eyes, frowning down at one of the arms on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, and it slithers to your side.

“No? You came here,” you say, confusion laced in your voice.

“After you left me stranded on the beach,” he scoffs.

“That’s not—” The other limb slides from his shoulder as you glide away from him, picking at the purple veins in your palms. Your brows knit together, eyes focused on the ground. You drift back and forth as if pacing, your voice soft like your words are only meant for you to hear, “You called to me. That’s how I found you, because of the connection, the infect—.”

You stop, turning swiftly to him.

“Where did you come from?”

Miguel takes a step back as you rush forward.

“Shouldn’t you know? You brought me here after your fish melted,” he frowns.

“My fish?” One of your extra limbs reaches up to rub at the side of your temple. He lets you think, watching your face intently. You pick at your palms, wincing when you break skin. The lights on your body flash green before returning to their normal purple, and you both look down to watch yellow blood drift up from your palm. Your eyes widen, slowly lifting to meet his gaze with a worry that sets him on edge.

“How long ago were you infected?” Your voice is soft, almost pitying, and somehow that makes him angrier.

“Infected?” Miguel asks, making no attempt to hide his irritation. You turn your palm upwards, slowly holding it out to him. He can see that small cut in your skin, or rather, the neon green blister that’s taken its place.

“The others brought it here,” you murmur. “They came looking for a cure, but…it didn’t work. They…did something—something unforgivable—and in the following conflict, the virus got out. Everything from here to beyond the Crater was ravaged.”

He doesn’t understand most of what you’re saying, but there’s a sense of loss in your voice that he finds a small part of himself empathizing with.

“I’ve been trying to fix it,” you murmur, looking at him wide-eyed. “But the virus limits my reach to those who carry it.”

You catch the tensing of his jaw and the quick glance down at his hand. You reach for him, slowly and carefully, like one would approach a wild animal. You grab his hand with your unmarked one, lifting it so you can examine his palm.

It’s small, but there’s no mistaking the green edges of the dent in his palm, glowing brighter beneath the water.

“How long ago was this?” you ask, thumb gently grazing the green mark.

“A week,” Miguel answers tightly, pulling his hand out of your grasp.

Your glowing gaze meets his dark one, “Then you don’t have much time left.” You turn your back to him, revealing the bare expanse of your back and the masses of green veins and blisters that gather around where your extra limbs attach. You head toward the edge of the platform. “Come. It’ll be easier to explain…not here.”

He doesn’t move, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can’t take me back home and explain there?”

You stop just at the platform's edge, extra limbs unwinding themselves from the chains as you look at him over your shoulder.

“No one can leave until a cure is found,” you speak, calm and distant. “I cannot change what they’ve put into place. You either follow me or die here. Your choice.”

Miguel lets your words sink in, eyes falling to the bite on his hand. He looks back up at you with a reluctant sigh and gives you a single nod.

You nod, turning back and diving off the edge of the platform, disappearing into the chamber below.

Miguel steps up to the edge, peering into the darkness below to see your bioluminescent limbs carrying you along the chamber floor like a glowing spider. He takes a deep breath, letting the water filter through his lungs, before stepping off the platform.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderverse fics #moth writes #tw: animal cruelty #tw: animal injury #tw: disease #tw: illness

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n00bcat1234 · 4 months

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An interesting idea I haven't seen thrown around in the Chonny Jash fandom (even though I haven't really been in it for that long):

What if Chonny's love killed herself?

I know the theory might be a bit random, but hear me out.

I've been thinking about "Hidden in the Sand", a great cover, in my opinion, but it also tells a passionate and sad story of heartbreak. But some lyrics stood out to me:

"We were playing in the sand,

And I extended you a hand.

You said that you'd

Rather die than be seen with me as your man.

At least, that's what I was convinced,

And the pain's resounded ever since.

But maybe it's simply that,

When I took my shot,

I missed.

You know what they say,

At the end of the day,

Indifference is bliss."

Going over these lyrics, I believe that the story this song tells may be much darker than what the song wants you to see.

While I only cited that part, I think the story the entire song tells is, Chonny tried to write a song for his love, couldn't get it right, and went to his love's home to ask for criticism. He found the door unlocked and walked in, just in time to witness her committ suicide. He watched as the person he cared most about took their own life, and was heartbroken. The thing is, he was asking for her opinion on a love song dedicated to her. He took this personally, and as any grieving person might do, blamed himself for it, thinking he wasn't there for her. Thinking he wasn't good enough for her. She never heard his love song. This turns him into the sad, sulking mess he is in cachophony. He's split into 3, as his heart grieves, his mind tries to find a reason why, and his soul doesn't know what to do anymore, making him lose purpose and ultimately become suicidal. He wishes he'd never walked in on the sight, wishes he could stay indifferent.

Or maybe I'm a bumbling idiot who didn't do any other research, or maybe both.

If not, I'm incorporating it into whatever Chonny Jash au I accidentally made on character ai :))))

#chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #chonny rambles #cccc #cccc soul #cccc mind #cccc heart #cccc whole

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soberpluto · 1 year

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Scribble: Venus in Gemini

2nd post of the day! This is a brainstorm on what it feels like to have Venus in the sign of the twins... resonates?

Charming through wits. Intelligence is sexy. Smart people attract you. You are a phenomenal conversationalist. You can talk about many things without being a true expert. Others see you as endlessly stimulating. Eloquent speech. Sweet words. Appealing voice. Mesmerizing hand gestures. Your love language is words of affirmation. You come up with quirky arguments with no effort. Writting is beautiful. Writting as self-expression. Creativity means intelligence. You are gifted at composing literature. Your essays are exemplar. You see languages as delighful. You talk your way out with such grace. You have a way with words. You can understand everyone´s point of view. You change your mind frequently. Your lovers influence your thought processes. You have dual tastes. You have more than one stream of income. Smart about money. Simultaneous jobs. Simultaneous relationships. You feel safe having options. You attract fickle love interests. You pull in double-faced individuals. Your partners need to be intellectual. Bad communication turns you off. Expressive people draw you in. Constant mental rapport is a basic need in your close relationships. Expert at backhanded compliments. White lies are not so bad. Can speak about the same thing in so many different ways. Falling in love in short trips. Infatuated by professors. Finding romance in the academic realm. Swept away by non-committal prospects. Commitment issues. Loyalty is to yourself. Lovers separated by distance. You gossip about other people's relationshps. Others gossip about your partnerships. Talkative when aroused. Amazing at sexting. Dirty talking gets your juices flowing. You are their best oral sex. You love to kiss and you are great at it. You crave to share your interests. You are so charming when you talk about your passions. You date several people at the same time. You appear as care free when you converse. Rigid, slow and overly possessive lovers asphyxiate you. Freedom of speech and choice will not be taken from you. You feel alive when you make trips with those you love. You research, study and digest whatever sparkles your desire. You connect with art through intellect. Mindfulness is an art. Sugarcoating gets you ahead. Evading the truth is so easy. Do you want lies instead of silence? You feel unworthy when you see yourself as ignorant. Your studies give your self-esteem. Your brain is your biggest safety net. You value heads over hearts. Too much loneliness is heartbreaking. The journalist. The fashion critique. The book club activist. The art curator. The romance novelist. You have beautiful siblings. Your brother(s) and/or sister(s) are highly intelligent. You can pull conversations with anyone. Variety and fun keep you invested. Others think you are younger than you are. You are attracted to youthful and bubbly types. Non binary. Bi-sexual. Bi-curious. Sapiosexual. You entertain the idea of threesomes. Flirtatious by nature. Teasing is exciting. You seduce through witty comebacks and jokes. You fascinate by your knowledge. Disposible connections. Don't mind keeping things superficial unless you are really interested in someone. The way is through your mind. Curiosity may lead you towards love. Not good with handling frustation in your romantic affairs. Very cunning business associates. Fickle alliances. Not making a choice can complicate your relationships. What if the grass greener on the other side? You constantly analyze relationships. Subject to FOMO. You spend on social interactions. You buy information. Information is power. You think your feelings. Your brainpower is your biggest asset. A beautiful, intricate mind. How will you make the world a better place with it?

#venus in gemini #astrology #astrology notes #astrology observations #venus #astrology community #gemini #intelligence

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crypt-tids · 8 days

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A bit of a mushy storytime because my anxiety has been mean to me the last couple days and has lead me to deep diving into some stuff that kind of ended up making me feel better now that I've put the pieces together. (It is about my relationship so feel free to skip it if you've had enough of my rambling lol)

My bf was engaged 5 years ago, had been with that person for 4 years, had an apartment and pets with them, and had a wedding date set and everything. less than a month before the wedding, a huge hurricane hit, fucking everything up for a long time, and they had to postpone the wedding. 5 months later, they broke up. If that hurricane hadn't hit, they would have been (unhappily) married and I never would have met him.

He hadn't dated anyone in all of that time because that relationship was so emotionally abusive and manipulative that he didn't want to deal with it again.

In the fall of 2023, I got out of a horribly wishy washy, non-committal situationship with a person that would manipulate me into trusting them anytime they felt lonely, inevitably ending when they left me for the third time, using my sexuality as their excuse (which left a horribly deep scar that lead to me breaking down crying when I told my bf about my sexuality because I was terrified he would do the same thing to me--he did not). I tried a couple dating apps, went on 1 date, talked to some flakes that made big promises and never delivered, and then decided I was fucking done with it all and I didn't care anymore. I just wanted to put dating behind me and live alone because it was easier.

In January, I worked at an event I didn't want to work at at all, I did it only because my mom wanted to do it.( The guy I had been casually talking to at the time said he would try to show up to meet me. He never did, and never brought it up again and we didn't speak again after that.) anyways, my mom took a picture of our table to send to her customer/friend to see if she wanted anything. I just so happened to be in the picture. That was the first picture of me that my bf had ever seen that made him want to ask me out. If I had been a little more convincing and stubborn with my mom, we wouldn't have been at that event. There would have been no picture of our table to send to anyone, and my bf never would have known that I existed.

It took him over a week to work up the nerve to give my mom his phone number to pass along to me. 2 days later, I decided "what the hell" and texted him. In all of that time he had been drafting a text that he was terrified to send, and was just about to push through when my text came through for him.

It's so weird how seemingly unconnected events play such huge rolls in our lives. I almost didn't get to meet the only person I have ever genuinely, without any doubt, been in love with. The only person that has ever told me that my anxiety and insecurities weren't silly and that he understood them and wanted to reassure me through them. The only person that took it upon themselves to research asexuality on his own to better understand me and why I was asking him to be patient with me. He almost married someone that would have made him miserable, and because of a hurricane, a horrible hurricane that my office building is still not fully repaired from 5 years later, I got the chance to meet him.

I always read about how much people hate it when their partners snore, and I find snoring annoying in general myself. My ex-girlfriend had one of the loudest snores I've ever heard, and I fucking hated it. It would keep me awake and I would try to shuffle the bed a little to snap her out of it for a minute so that I could fall asleep. (That relationship oxidized really fucking quick, not because of the snoring, but it was a huge mess that involved her gaslighting me and leaving me with yet another depth to my relationship trauma that to this day makes me horribly anxious sometimes). but the sound of my bf snoring is the best most calming fucking sound in the world. I will fall right to sleep with it. I don't know what it is about his snore, because I know that his ex regularly teased him and complained about it because she thought it was annoying, but I love it.

He is genuinely the most calming presence in my life and is the only person that has ever made me feel like moving forward/change wasn't something to be afraid of. If things had been just a little different, I'd still be single, and we never ever would have met, or even crossed paths. I can't help but feel like all of that is cosmically important. Like it wasn't an accident, but the universe had carefully planned out the events in our lives because we were supposed to be together from the very beginning.

#rambles

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