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nicromancytarot · 14 days

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HOW CAN YOU ENHANCE YOUR SEXUALITY (18+)

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I do not charge for these readings, and I do not fake readings. Channeled by me and my guides, using pictures.

I am a feminist before I am human, and I keep seeing people calling women “bop’s” all over the media, which is just another derogatory term to start off a pathetic attempt to suppress women’s sexuality, so let’s see how you can enhance yours, shall we?

(Minors, please don’t interact with this one xoxo)

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides how you could enhance your sexuality to better your experience and express your sensuality, pick a pile to see what they had to say!

PILE 1

Blood on the snow by Hozier came on, so you guys could honestly benefit from having sex, or doing some type of sexual “ritual” when on your period, even if it just be a form of self pleasure. I’m hearing that some of you could have your period in cycle with the full moons, it could be a good idea to try your hand at giving yourself a release when the moon is bright and full.

I’m seeing that you guys have an innocent way of expressing your sexuality, I’m getting that you may have been sexualised at a young age, or you feel very infantilised now. Due to this, I feel like it could be good for you to reclaim the thing that people make you feel bad for, wear those frilly clothes, and put that bow in your hair, allow yourself to have your hair beautifully done in some pigtails, however do not allow someone to rip your innocence away from you, just because they see it differently does not mean that they have the right to make that your problem.

Your sex life could be nothing, or very inconsistent, you may be scared of hookups, or need deep emotional attachment in order to have sex with someone, I would recommend building those foundations for safe sexual encounters if that’s what you desire, or allowing yourself to let go of the need for control all the time. Hooking up, or having sex spontaneously does not make you disgusting or easy going, sex is fun and beautiful, it’s the one time that someone sees you at your most vulnerable state, your body undone and intertwined with theirs, but it can also be experimental and exciting, you get to learn new things about your body and figure out what you do and don’t like, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

I’m literally getting “smoke a joint” lmao, you may feel like you’re too stressed to have fun with sex, maybe you’re scared of trying new things with your body, some of you could even shy away from masterbation out fear of judgment, or just feeling gross. You need to relax, sex is such a natural thing, and I’m sorry that yours has been so frowned upon from a young age, but you deserve to have fun, to explore your body, and all the possibilities that come with it.

Try a rose toy, possibly a pretty pink dildo, who knows.

PILE 2

I’m feeling that you guys haven’t had sex since a breakup, you’re possibly shying away from being openly sexual since this ending, and it’s hurting you a lot. A number of you feel as though your emotions are expressed through sex, so you’re really finding it hard at the moment to show people how you feel, and now blow up in their face, you’re like a bottle that’s spilling over.

You guys need to loosen up, you either turn to self pleasure a lot or not at all, no in between. You need to find yourself some way of expressing those emotions beside the sex, I’m feeling that your “shadows” don’t come out until night, which I believe was normally when you would partake in these two people sexual activities, which was why it was so easy for you to express yourself during these sexual encounters.

I feel like you need to have someone you trust in order to express your feelings, and for that I would recommend hanging around with your friends late at night, a possible sleepover, so then you’ll tell them exactly as you feel.

Now back to the sex, I feel my shoulders and back tensing up, and I just consciously unclenched my jaw, so I’m feeling that you need to utilise sex in order to relax. With the full moon, you guys might be feeling a tad more stressed than normal, I feel the need to tell you that will pass.

I heard “Italian” so I went to search up Italian sex toys incase that would help you, however I did manage to find a Reddit post that mentions a public vending machine selling dildos for €20, so for that, I am feeling that you need to be more open and willing to try new things, things that are unexpected but exciting, you could benefit from a hookup, preferably not your ex.

Throw them panties aside and enjoy yourself, loosen up, let yourself feel that pleasure that you are clearly so desperately seeking. Have fun, and do it unapologetically.

You could benefit from a bullet vibrator, or a clitoral pump.

PILE 3

You guys struggle to go with the flow, you let things happen, but they happen in a stylish way, you are the type to have a bed rocking time, and then complain about your favourite blanket getting dirty, before getting up and grabbing yourself something to eat. You ride the tide, and possibly something else. I think you like to be in control, but you struggle to get attached. You may have quite a few hookups, maybe you forgot about self pleasure and rely on other people to do that for you.

What would happen if you laid in bed by yourself, cracking open a pomegranate, letting the juice paint your chest like you’re its canvas, would that help you lose control? I’m seeing a need for mess, your body becoming covered in the red tint of the pomegranate, or maybe you’re eating a peach and letting the juice run down your chin, do you like fruit?

I’m getting a natural vibe to things, I think you need things to be natural, rather than so controlled. After having sex you’re going ahead and making yourself a bowl of nachos, how long does that take you? You have the add the nachos, then the cheese, some sauce, chillies, you putting guacamole on there too? It’s all too controlled.

Grab yourself a tub of ice cream and let someone go down on you, or give yourself a vibrator for that same effect.

Just lose the control.

This is random, but honestly probably a great exercise for you, I want you to put on some makeup, tons of mascara, lots of lipstick, or gloss. And then I want you to smudge it, stare at yourself in the mirror as you ruin your makeup, don’t try and redo it, don’t get upset or angry, don’t even hesitate, watch yourself as you allow your mind to let go of the need for perfection, the need for control.

Hell, drink a cup of coffee at night, just do something that will stop you being so authoritative when it comes to sex, also, stop being on top, just for a little, let your sexual partners take the lead this time.

You don’t need to be in control.

you could benefit from a rotating or thrusting dildo, or a travel/pocket vibrator.

#tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #free tarot #tarot witch #tarot reading #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a pile #18+ tarot reading #18+ tarot #sexuality

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 5 months

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duos silices ad ignem

Just a Rollo fic I wrote based off of this post

I write Reader/Yuu as female

Also my writing may be a bit biased but I refuse to write Deuce as nothing but a sweetheart even in an angst fic

“You’re ‘used to it’?” Rollo repeats incredulously, looking at you as though you’ve gone barmy, “Oh you poor thing. I can’t blame you for becoming numb to the absurdity after spending every day swimming in it.”

You open your mouth, ready to dismiss his words and defend yourself, but you find the words clogging up at your throat, refusing to leave. The stoic Student Council President continued to look at you, concern overcasting his features, so you swallow thickly as you feel your heartbeat in your ears and mutter that you think you hear Professor Trein calling you before making a much too hasty exit.

You’ll admit that initially, yes, the concept of magic terrified you. Why wouldn’t it? After spending a lifetime without it and then being thrown into the both metaphorical and literal lions’ den with no support whatsoever was the stuff of nightmares. Especially when you consider your first overblot, where everyday was the physical representation of out of the frying pan and into the fire.

But you learned to see the beauty of magic, learned to see how it can help and heal, how it can mend broken bones in seconds instead of months, how it can protect you and make you soar.

Though why do you feel resentful? Why do you feel that tang of bitterness when you’d see someone wave their pens and have an entire room spotless in a blink of an eye? Why does it cause such discomfort to witness a meal magically prepped to perfection? Why does watching your classmates using spells to play around in class and make their life easier fill you up with so much dread?

You love magic so why do you still flinch?

‘Maybe,” your mind supplies, “it’s because they’re so used to it. They’re so lackadaisical about throwing around spells because it comes to them without a thought. To them it’s mundane. To you - well, it’s proof that you don’t belong here, that you’re not yet home.”

Later on you find yourself sitting in isolation on a bench, far removed from the festivities of your peers, as you watch them produce fireworks with seamless flicks of their wrists, laughing gaily with every spark and flicker.

Why was it that a complete stranger could see you, hear your unspoken thoughts, much better than an entire castle full of people that you’ve spent months with? Why was it that this wiry, unfeeling, looming presence was able to piece together what was laid out in front of him much better than the people you brushed with death with to save?

Was it pity? The thought should have filled you with offense, that this person you just met is treating you with such infantilising condescension. How dare he patronise you without even knowing what you’ve done, what you’ve lived through, how you’re barely holding on to the tattered shreds of your sanity before it slips through your fingers-

How dare he be so right.

Maybe it is pity, maybe his patronising words were warranted. Maybe, just maybe, you’re so desperate that you’ll take it, that you’ll take anything if it meant someone would look close enough to see that you’re not okay, that you want out.

You’re left alone with your thoughts now, as you watch your schoolmates with a blank look, your eyes fixated on their high spirits but not quite seeing them. Your thoughts that liked to remind you of how small you are, how insignificant against the might that was magic, how easy it was for you to sign away your life to Azul with a simple signature, how eye contact or a few words was all it took for Jamil and Ruggie to own your mind and body, how Vil cursed your food without a word to you nor a care in the world.

How completely breakable you are in this twisted world of vices and villains.

Even the other first years, who are considered the least powerful in regards to magical capability, could end you as fast as lightning flashes.

You think back on the scars that coiled and burned along your skin, how the foreign slivers of jagged discolouration were littered along your body, a sadistically twisted storybook that mapped out your past, present and future torment. The deep reddish-purple lesions and inky black cracks that spiderwebbed your once young, innocent and untouched complexion were nothing more than a perpetual reminder of all that you’ve lost, all that’s been taken from you in this world. That you weren’t who you once were and you can never go back to being her.

(“Deuce,” you whispered to your friend late into the night. Ace and Grim were contentedly dozing away on the mattress you’d placed on the floor of Ramshackle’s living room, leaving you and Deuce the only ones awake on your couch, the dim light of the television bathing you in opalescence and and the tinny sounds it played turning into white noise. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice just barely a mutter but you heard it loud and clear. “Have,” you took a breath and looked down at your twiddling fingers, “have you ever looked at a mirror and saw a stranger?”

“Yeah, I have,” Deuce replied. Your head cants upwards and you see his blue eyes piercing through the darkness, “it was right after I heard my mum crying on the phone to my grandma. I didn’t know who I was. I just knew I didn’t want to be who I saw.”)

But it’s okay now because they are your friends.

That’s the mantra you chanted as you surveyed everyone in front of you.

Riddle who called you pathetic who didn’t hesitate to make a mockery of you who attacked you with both his words and his thorny rage, diligently listening to an NBC student explain the history of Fleur City.

They are your friends

Deuce who was your best friend who you trusted with your life who you can’t tell any of this to and Epel who’s a victim like you who wants out like you who’s still destined to hurt you like everyone else, talking animatedly about their magical wheels as they eat their candy apples.

They are your friends

Ruggie who can control you with one word who still has the fangs and claws of a predator who you still don’t know if you can trust, munching on as many baked goods as he could.

They are your friends

Azul who’s sadistic and manipulative and uses and takes for his own benefit who happily made you homeless and still has everything despite all that he’s done who’s predatory eyes burn you whenever he’s near, looking for your next weakness to exploit and Jamil who used and kidnapped and manipulated you who hypnotised you and ripped away what little control you had whilst playing pretend as your friend who took pleasure in your suffering were surveying the stalls, asking the vendors questions about their wares. For some reason, the thought of joining them felt like acid crawling up your throat.

They are your friends

Rook who’s an enabler just like everyone else who watched on as his housewarden cursed your food and tried to poison and kill someone who can easily hunt you down and find you no matter where you are or how well you hide, laughing along with everyone’s merriment and spouting out verbose french poetry that you weren’t sure you wanted to understand.

They are your friends

Idia who took Grim from you who unlike everyone else was an actual genuine friend before he overblotted who played his part just like everyone else did, looking like he found Nirvana as he was surrounded by stray cats and kittens.

They are your friends

Silver who you don’t even know yet who could still be part of this twisted ploy to cause your downfall who could hide a person as sadistically corrupted like everyone else, napping on a bench near Sebek who hates your existence who hates that a human would dare to breathe the same air as his liege who doesn’t even hide his contempt for you who was watching Malleus who’s never there who never helps who just does what he wants and you can’t say anything because who are you compared to him with his usual starry-eyed worship.

They are your friends. They’ve changed. It’s alright now, You easily washed away the red of their sins so everything’s all good. You’ve moved on - forgive and forget, right? Sure they hurt you but it’s all water under the bridge. They won’t hurt you again. So why, why-

Then why does your stomach feel like lead now. Why do your eyes sting so badly, pinpricks dotting the edges of them as you feel the telltale drip of water run down your cheek.

All you want is to survive

But how do you survive in a world that wants you dead?

Apart from Ace, Deuce, Grim and the ghosts that haunt your dorm, not one person looked at you and saw you as someone other than the magicless prefect who stops overblots and cleans up messes that they had nothing to do with. Not one person who’s hurt you had stopped to think that you were someone who could feel hurt, that your feelings matter, that you don’t fight death every other second because you want to but because it’s the only way you could survive in a place where you have been abandoned.

Shakespeare was right. There are daggers in men’s smiles. In every predatory grin, in every saccharine leer, in every simper that coiled and tightened around you like a serpent, with its poison-laced fangs prodding at your carotid, just waiting to strike.

You feel him before you see him, his lanky figure joining you in your shadowed refuge. Without a word, he sits down beside you.

“Do you believe in fate?” you ask idly, your stare never once wavering from where you watched Professor Trein who’s in on it who, just like every other adult, has failed you who never once punished anyone except you and your fellow students, “that things happen and there’s nothing we can do about it because that’s just how things are meant to be? That the people who do bad things just get to do those things and everyone’s supposed to live with it because that’s how the story is written?”

He regards you for a second and then turns and looks straight ahead with a gaze like steel, “I believe in justice. That without it, humanity is doomed to live in a delusion of peace. I believe that the only way to be truly free from the sins that swarm and bite us, that follow us around like a plague, is to take the reins ourselves and use our power to free us from them. The past is just a tragic history but the future has several names: for the weak, it is impossible; for the fainthearted, it is unknown; but for the valiant, it is ideal. And once the gavel of justice has done its duty in punishing the wicked and freeing the innocent, even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.”

You feel a cold, thin hand placed over yours and you let it rest there. It was grounding, comforting.

Maybe, it’s about time you stop being a victim of the narrative and take control of your own story. You’ll rid yourself of your tragic ending and fashion a new happily ever after.

In NRC, you found horrors beyond your comprehension.

In Rollo, you think you’ve found your guardian angel.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rollo flamm #rollo flamme #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamm x reader #fem reader

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 1 month

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Hi!! I have a one shot request (I hope I’m in the right place lmao)

What about a autistic (fem)reader who is super smart and seems to notice things about the case that the others haven’t and every time she tries to state her thoughts a rude sherif cuts her off/infantilising her and Emily defends her

Honestly my brain stopped at the thought of Emily, I need more of her 😔🫶

-anon ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

fem!plus size reader, wc: 517.

cw! asshole elders :/

a/n: i have had this finished but sitting in my drafts because i was too lazy to post it, but here it is! i hope that i was able to capture what you were looking for right! :] this can either be read as platonic or romantic!

You have been spoken over and shut down for the past hour, twenty minutes, and thirty seconds.

You hated being silenced, but one thing that trumps that was being infantilized. You worked hard to get where you were now, and you hated being treated like a child just because your way of thinking was different from your peers.

You have saved thousands of people and you’ll be damned if you continue to be treated like this.

“If you look closely, you can see that the area that these women were killed in must hold some kind of sentimental meaning to our unsub.” You grab the black marker and go to draw the inevitable triangle on the printed out map before you’re stopped by the sheriff.

“I’m sure the area these women were killed in was just pure coincidence, so we don’t wanna risk coloring in the paper just ‘cause you think you know somethin’.” He spoke as if he knew more than you did like he was the one with the degree, his tone absolutely rolling in condescension.

“Hold it now, sweetheart. Don’t just go markin’ up stuff.”

“I beg your pardon?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“I’m sorry but –” You try to say but the old fart cuts you off. “I’m sure you are –”

“Excuse me, sheriff, but I’m afraid Special Agent _______ made a great point.” Emily was quick to come to your aide, emphasizing the words ‘Special Agent’ just to reinforce her point.

You could see it in her narrowed eyes, and everyone else’s really, that she was about done with the Sheriff’s embarrassingly large ego. You send her an appreciative – albeit shy – smile, and she gets up, her eyes trained on the map as well.

“She’s right, because if you look here,” She points to the first crime scene and motions for you to draw a mark. “And here,” Her finger trails down to the second location and you follow close behind. “And here.” Her path finally ends, and so does your black ink.

There it was, just like you had first thought, a perfect triangle connecting them all.

“The most important thing should be right –” You finish her words and color in a big circle in the middle. “Here.” Emily sends you a proud look and it threatens to weaken your knees.

“I mean… I suppose that makes sense.” The man grumbled before leaving with his tail between his legs.

“Thank you.” You say quietly. The conversation was meant to be kept between the two of you. Of course you loved and trusted everyone on your team, but Emily was your comfort person, and she made time to understand you.

“No problem,” She responds back. “Everyone was done with his shit anyway.”

“Still, thank you.” You pressed the conversation, because you don’t really think she realized the gravity of the situation, of your appreciation.

For most of your life you had never been given a voice, and having someone stick up for you and even paving the way for you to make your point known was something that no gratitude could give.

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inkdrinkerworld · 8 months

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Beefy!james acting like a caring mother for reader who gets so caught up in school and friends and everyday problems and forgets to take care of themselves. I can just see him take such good care of everyone around him but be extra gentle with reader, as if they are a baby.

ohh this was such a good thought baby!! i made this a little angsty my bad. mention of food, allusion to reader having a hard/tough life

it’s hard to accept help from anyone when you’ve been taking care of yourself for so long.

you’re used to doing and giving to other people, that. comes easy- but to accept and be given? it’s difficult.

you’d been running around trying to balance work and school, a social life and being there for your friends and after three months of doing it successfully james could see it starting to weigh on you.

you’re home when he gets in from practice, the kitchen smelling like tuna bake.

“angel?” he calls, worrying his bottom lip as he walks through the house looking for you.

“in the bedroom jamie!” you yell back. james finds you ironing and frowns.

you’ve got dark circles under your eyes, you look a little paler than usual and james can tell you’re unsteady on your feet.

he doesn’t like this one bit, but he doesn’t know how to bridge the gap of taking care of you without you feeling infantilised.

“baby, did you nap today?” he remembers you’d mentioned wanting to take a nap after you got back home- but now he’s not sure that you did.

“nah, didn’t bother with it. wanted tuna bake for dinner and then i did laundry.” you shrug like it’s no big deal, but it is to james.

he takes the iron from you, setting it down and out of the way.

“you can’t go on spreading yourself so thin. you need to take care of yourself, angel.” he says softly and you frown.

“i do,” you say, letting james pull you towards the bed. “i always take care of myself.”

james nods, kissing your forehead, “and you do a great job, but you don’t have to do it by yourself tonight, if you let me help.” his thumbs stroke just under your ear.

you deliberate for some time before saying softly, “yeah, m’tired.” james reads between the words unsaid, kissing you softly before hoisting you up.

the kiss serves as a way to distract yourself from crying. james is gentle like that- offering to take care of you when you’ve done it yourself your whole life.

it makes your belly erupt with butterflies and makes silver tears hang heavy on your waterline.

“baby,” he coos, lifting you off to the bathroom. “it’s okay, it’s safe y’know? to let me do it.”

you nod as he sits you on the counter, “i know, i promise.” james flashes a soft smile, kissing your cheeks as the tears tumble down.

james takes care of you like he breathes, with ease. like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

he uses your sandalwood and jasmine bodywash, washes your hair with your matching shampoo and conditioner and tucks you into your robe after.

he combs your hair and does your skin care- he even applies your lotion for you.

“i’ll be ten minutes okay?” james says after you’re both dressed and he has some sitcom playing on the tv.

“okay,” before james can leave you grab onto his fingers. “jamie, just wanted t’say thanks.” your eyes well with water again. james thinks it’s a shame, that you’ve been in survival mode for so long and think he needs to be thanked for this- for loving you.

“none needed angel, get comfy okay?”

he comes back with two bottles of orange passion fruit juice, and two plates of food and a sleeve of chocolate biscuits for later.

“alright angel, if you want me to feed you i will.” james gets a giggle and a kiss to his jaw.

somewhere between dinner and laying on james’ chest, you feel the vibration of his words. “you deserve to be taken care of, to get rest and to get everything you want your friends to as well. if you can’t do it, i’ll do it for you- you don’t even have to ask.”

you sniffle, “i’ll tell you more often, promise.”

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lesbiansforboromir · 6 months

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Categorically the most galling part of this universal perception that Boromir is a 'poor out-of-his-depth himbo whose completely ignorant of politics' is how it is blindingly canonically apparent that he put massive effort into being a political entity, to the point that his political opinions follow him even into the Council of Elrond.

Without the Council of Elrond, one could interpret his narrative positioning as a more 'Middle Man' and less 'high' as something forced upon him, a (narratively framed) negative aspect of his character that Faramir is critisising and lamenting as just 'part of his nature'. He is being associated with the Rohirrim and other 'lesser' men because he is also a 'lesser' man inspite of his heritage, due to his 'flawed' and 'weak-willed' personality.

Although that is still a bit of a stilted and awkward interpretation in my opinion, Eomer explicitely differentiates Boromir's treatment and manner around the Rohirrim from other men of Gondor he has known. He is 'less grim' etc etc, Eomer felt more at ease in his company, which implies to me more that Boromir interacted with the Rohirrim as equals, unlike most of this kin. Which seems more likely to be an active effort on his part.

But interpretations based off of that are entirely unnecessary, because the Council of Elrond exists! Where Boromir, when confronted with Aragorn's mistrust of the Rohirrim and Gwaihir's accusation that they pay a tribute of horses to Sauron, immediately and comfortably comes to their staunch defense. 'It is a lie that comes from the Enemy' he declares, literally pointing out propeganda that all these elves and dunadain are primed to believe given their own investment in the racial divide between them and these 'middle men'. A primer that also belongs to Boromir, whose place amongst the 'high men' is a right bestowed on him from birth, yet one he is actively discarding here in favour of defending the Rohir perspective.

And not only that! He even goes so far as to place the rohirrim's ethnic and cultural heritage as a reason for their trustworthiness, inspite of the fact that they cannot claim any relation to any so called 'blessed' lineage. They come from 'the free days of old', a statement that is similar to one of Faramir's but that, tellingly, Faramir uses as a method of infantilising the rohirrim 'they remind us of the youth of Men'.

These are all inherently and radically political statements for the heir of the Stewardship, the man next in line to be chieftain of the southern dunadain, to declare, especially when acting as emissary as he is now.

So now, all those moments when Boromir is linked directly with middle men, when his right to his 'high' heritage is questioned, when he is critisised with the same racially charged language as the rohirrim are (too warlike, "we are become Middle Men, of the Twilight, but with memory of other things" [-] "So even was my brother, Boromir") - all of that is now on purpose, on Boromir's part. He is the one distancing himself from the title of 'high' and questioning it's validity in the process, something Faramir clearly disapproved of and was a part of the breakdown in his respect for him. (Understandable, considering Faramir's equal and opposite effort to reclaim the title of 'high' for himself and his people.) Boromir is, essentially, engaging in some kind of racial-hierarchy criticism/abolishionism and activism.

That is not to say that his political opinions all entirely pass muster, he does still engage in racist rhetoric at least once, calling Gondor's eastern enemies 'the wild folk of the east'. But within the context of his own country and it's ethnic diversity, his position is maverick in comparison to pretty much everyone else.

And before anyone says it, let me head off comments like 'Boromir was just being himself, he didn't even know it was political he was just that stupid but I love him for it' No. Boromir's reputation in Gondor was complex and multifacetted but a great many people loved and supported him, clearly we see that there was a divide in political opinion between the two brother's stances on war and society. What you are essentially saying here is that Faramir is such a dull-witted statesman that he was incapable of swaying opinion his way against someone who didn't even know he was a part of the discussion, who wasnt even involved in the debates, against a high society that based their cultural identity on being descended from racially superior Numenoreans. The historical perspective is heavily weighted in Faramir's favour.

The much more likely state of affairs is that Boromir and Faramir have both been working towards their own social change and against each other, causing an opinion divide within the country. And apparently Boromir has not been losing that fight, even if he hasn't been definitively winning it either. Some people call him reckless where Faramir is measured, others say Faramir is not bold enough, Denethor himself claims Faramir is placing his desire for nobility and 'high-ness' over the safety of himself and his people. Culturally Gondor is going in for more pursuits of war-sports (wrestling perhaps) and the adulation of the soldiers that defend them, above the men of lore if Faramir is to be believed.

Society is changing around this debate and Boromir is actively, purposefully and directly involved in that debate! Hells bells, he even describes a part of how he works in the political sphere to Frodo! 'Where there are so many, all speech becomes a debate without end. But two together may perhaps find wisdom.' Boromir is!!! A politician!! On purpose!!

The neutral political position of 'Heir to the Stewardship' given to him by his birth is so ludicrously weighted towards faithful that the effort it must have taken to push the needle and associate with the middle men as such a divisive yet loved figure is MASSIVE. Boromir believed the Rohirrim and middle men of Gondor were his social equals and counted them amongst his people and that was a stance he upheld in PARLIMENT! Stop!! Acting like he's just a blockheaded soldier who cares about nothing else- he cares!! He cares a lot!! Professionally in fact!!

#text post #boromir #erran vs tolkien #tolkien meta #gondor #faramir #gondor meta

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nayatarot777 · 9 months

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how can you feed your spirit? • pac

if you’re interested in a personal video reading, my patreon readings, or my youtube readings, then find the links to all of those things on my website here!

• pile one •

you guys may feel like you really have a hole in your soul or a hole in your spirit due to someone who lacked so much empathy. someone who had so much hidden envy or jealousy towards you. someone who showed you fake love to get what they wanted from you. it doesn’t matter who this person is - they could be a fake family member, a fake friend, a coworker, a bitch-made partner who saw multiple things in you that they were threatened by and jealous of. your guides are telling you to not be afraid to use your voice and speak up about this and how they’ve hurt you. whether they see it or not, getting out what you want to say will heal you a lot. you could put them on blast online. because this person holds a lot of secrets - and therefore made you feel like you had to hold onto secrets due to the effects of this person’s bs behaviour towards you. don’t be afraid to speak up about thus. you will have support and you will have people who are a circle of protection for you. i’m hearing that this person literally tried to end you in some way. for some of you literally and for others of you figuratively, with the way that they tried to crush your spirit any chance that they could. i’m gonna put it out there - this person is highly narcissistic. they don’t feel guilt or remorse for what they did. they don’t feel bad at all. they don’t have a heart. they’re probably the types of people who come across like they don’t even have a soul and that’s why yours triggered them so much. this is someone who doesn’t feel anything, so don’t feel bad for putting this person on blast. you hold a lot of knowledge on this person that they want you to keep quiet about. they expect you to hold the burdens of what they did to you in silence as if they’re owed that. they’re owed nothing. especially not from you. any anxiety that you’ve been experiencing due to this person and what you had to endure, you can relieve through divination (tarot in particular), just like how what you’re doing now. there may still be things that you’re not entirely clear on and divination will give you more of an objective and birds-eye view of this person and this situation. it’s time to write or speak about what you experienced with this person. and doing this online could definitely be the best method of doing so. it’s time to change the dynamic between you, because you’re holding burdens that shouldn’t and don’t belong to you. they belong to this person. so take them off of you and give it to who’s supposed to have it.

• pile two •

you guys could definitely have a fear of having responsibility over your own life. it seems like you reject opportunities that allow you to take a more authoritative approach and become the ruler of your own life. perhaps because you’ve been infantilised by parents or caregivers so much. and while they could’ve done this out of love and care for you, they haven’t done you any favours by doing this since you’re now someone who doesn’t know how to lead yourself without someone else telling you what to do. for others of you, these people infantilised you by instilling fear of the world and of life in general into you so that you’d always be dependent onto them. because that’s how they keep you tethered to them - even if they’re toxic or maybe even abusive towards you. a lot of you could feel like you’re a lot younger internally than you are physically, and this is the reason why. the first thing that you need to do is to practice some type of self-love. if you’re into witchcraft, do some self-love spells. i’m also seeing that a lot of you need to drink more water. as a way of easing yourself into responsibility in life, you could start with something small like caring for a plant daily. or taking responsibility over your health by setting an exercise routine or going for daily walks or something like that. you just need to find something that allows you to step into your power. any fear that you have towards stepping out of your comfort zone needs to be addressed. you need to look within yourself and do some ‘shadow work’. what about the world or what about life scares you so much? there may also be some responsibility that you have in terms of spiritual gifts. especially if you’re a tarot reader yourself or if you’re just clairvoyant or something similar. you may be rejecting these gifts but you shouldn’t. your power is in this, and every-time you reject these gifts, you reject your strengths. i’m also hearing that you could take more responsibility over your diet too. to choose healthier food options - especially if you’re from a family that doesn’t prioritise something like that. you need to stop rejecting yourself and your own power. if you have parents and family who genuinely love you and don’t just view you for how doing everything for you can feed their ego and their sense of self-importance, then they’ll understand the natural part of life where you have to grow into your own person. if not, then they’ll just try to reject and negatively influence any type of authority and leadership that you take for yourself over your own life - but this is needed.

• pile three •

you need to put yourself on a higher pedestal, pile three. you need to elevate the viewpoint that you have of your true self. you have experiences of being vilified for speaking up for yourself and saying exactly what you mean, and that’s caused a lot of shame within you - simply just because you spoke truths and people didn’t like it (probably because you were exposing their bs), but if you allow yourself to shut yourself up and not use your voice, you’re letting these people silence you completely and to destroy the strength of your voice that you have. you’re the person who’s not afraid to say what everyone else is thinking - but what everyone else is too afraid to say. the strongest person in the room will always try to be taken down by others who are intimidated by them. if people didn’t see you as a force to be reckoned with, they wouldn’t feel threatened by you in the first place, right? this vilification may have really affected your confidence and your ability to see yourself in a positive light. and perhaps your ability to listen to your intuition too, due to being gaslit out of what you know that you know. it’s time to step into some bravery and not be afraid of being seen as the villain by those who are the actual villains themselves. perhaps there are some things that you need to address about your home life or within your family. they probably won’t like what you have to say and they probably will try to paint you out to be the bad guy like always, but there’s going to be more strength that you find in yourself speaking your truth and being known as the villain instead of suppressing yourself. for a lot of you, your family has implemented so much rage, anger, and sadness within you. you’re going to be vilified either way so you might as well live in your truth, right? you have more of a higher perspective than any of these people and you know the truth about whatever situations people try to push you away from seeing and speaking about. when you speak the truth, you unmask the people full of negative energy, behaviour, and mindsets. and i’m hearing that for some of you, you could feel like this person or these people are literally evil - the devil incarnate, even. you don’t have to listen to the shit that comes out of these people’s mouths about you, but they’ll always be listening to what you have to say out of fear of you exposing them some more. do it 🤭.

• pile four •

the first thing that i’m seeing for you is that you should focus on healing yourself sexually. you could be a very sexual person or sexually open behind closed doors, but you still have some sexual shame from expectations and familial or societal pressures put onto you. accepting yourself for your sexuality (in whatever way that is), or accepting your naked body is important. i’m also seeing that some of you might hide who you truly are or how you truly feel behind anger as a defender mechanism. you might always be ready for battle with other people when you feel tried and tested or triggered by something, but it’s time for healing and not war at this point of your life. you could be self-destructing through your anger and defensiveness - and while this is understandable, it’s not healthy for you to consistently be in this energy. there’s also something or someone that you need to clear out of your life. could be a parent or a guardian, but it’s time to clear someone or something out of your life that makes you feel criticised and ridiculed. this person puts a lot of pressure onto you and forces you to hide who you truly are for the sake of their acceptance. if this is about a parent or a family member, then understand that their love shouldn’t be conditional. that means that their love is self-serving. they’re not loving you because you’re their child or because you’re someone who deserves love (which you do). they’re loving you in exchange for what they can get to fulfil them and their ego. it’s self-serving “love” that’s expressed for the sake of themselves and not you. if this isn’t about necessarily clearing this person completely out of your life, then you need to clear their criticisms out. i’m hearing “speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil”. put up boundaries and conditions in the same way that they do to you. let them know that if they’re going to say certain things to you, then they’re not welcome in your space and nor are they welcome to speak to you (and neither is anyone who’s willing to listen to and relay back to you their bs). also, maintain spiritual protection. burn incenses, white candles or tea lights, do protection spells. i feel like there are people sending you evil-eye and talking shit behind your back, even if you don’t actually see or hear this. but this could be affecting you negatively energetically. do some sort of spiritual protection or return-to-sender and leave them to stew in their criticisms of you that are actually just criticisms of themselves that they’re projecting out onto you.

#pick a card #psychic readings #pac #tarot reading #pick a photo #tarot #pac reading #pick a picture #divination #spirituality

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cloudshuffle · 9 months

Text

Scaramouche seems to only be able to treat you in two different ways - excessively harsh or excessively infantilising, neither of which you particularly enjoyed, though you could say you preferred the latter because it meant you weren't at active risk of punishment.

Today, he appeared to be in a good mood, if the scent of iron on his scarlet-drenched outfit was any indication. You clean his eyeliner from his face - trying to keep any thoughts of blood and gore away - and help him out of his clothes as you were taught to do, stepping back and lowering your eyes as he selects something more casual for the night.

He never has his servants dress him anymore - he always preferred it if you did.

He clicks his tongue sharply and you look up, surprised.

"Come here," he says, giving you a look that to others might have been a glare, but you have long since learnt to be the closest thing to a smile you have seen on him. "Or do I have to-?"

You waste no time in obeying, moving into his embrace before he can finish his sentence. Best to soften him a little while he's feeling warm - no telling when his mood would turn cold again.

"Hmph." He utters a sound of satisfaction, running a hand down your arm in your nightclothes. It isn't often he initiates physical contact, expecting you to know when and where he wanted your affection ("as spouses are supposed to do", as he puts it). Usually he liked you to give him a massage before bed or read something to him, but he reclines on his pillows tonight, holding you in the curve of his arm.

"Did you have a good day today, Scara?"

The nickname feels heavy and unfamiliar on your tongue, an illusion of closeness that could make or break you depending on when you used it.

His hand slides down to grasp your wrist lightly, and you tense.

"What a surprise," he chuckles. "You're behaving so well today."

You bite your lip, knowing it would be unwise to tell him that your conduct is the same every day, and keep still as he raises your hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

You hate how fragile you feel next to him. You know you can do nothing to take him on physically, not when you've felt the effects of his electro vision firsthand. Politically is certainly out of the question, what with him being a Harbinger and all. You feel so helpless, despite being no smaller than him, and it infuriates you.

But you do not stir, not even when he reaches to switch off the lights and falls asleep, running a hand through your hair with your head resting on his chest.

— word count: 463. thank you for reading!

#cloud writes #yandere genshin #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #yandere scaramouche #genshin

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slasherstation · 10 days

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Tbh for me the way some people talk about Dungeon Meshi and Ryoko Kui comes off as incredibly infantilising and mystifying in a way that I don’t think would happen if she wasn’t a woman writing for a magazine with a male audience.

Yeah. I think the way people water down her series is very weird to me. Like it is a silly show but it’s still as well written as anything else.

I’m someone who writes stories and I would be so upset if someone misinterpreted my story 😭

The way people turned this great series into like just shipping discourse, racism, ableism and overall weird behavior sucks.

Ryōko Kui deserves better than a fandom who doesn’t treat her series with the respect it deserves

#dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #delicious in dungeon #ryoko kui #anime #manga

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letsunity · 10 months

Text

With Thunder Comes Lightning

Summery: Peter and MJ tried again, but the spark wasn't there; they stay as friends to raise their soon-to-be daughter. Everything was going great until evil goop and a spooky vampire guy fall out of an orange portal. Little does Peter know that the biggest pain in his ass and future mutant best friend has landed right at his feet.

art by @gryphll

Chapter 4 - Appointment

Doctor appointments weren't MJ's favourite thing. She had a phobia of needles and other medical garbage. The smell of sterile stuff made her ill.

Of course, Peter has to be the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. For her safety, MJ had their new buddy.

"It's just a checkup. Everything's going to be fine," MJ told herself, biting her lower lip. "I don't feel fine. Ok. Can I have some encouragement?"

"I've never been to a hospital, so I can't accurately assure your safety," Miguel stated, the coldness of it concerning her. "I'll kill whoever comes too close. Does that help?"

"You're trying. That's helpful enough, tough guy."

"I suspect you're infantilising me."

"I have a baby growing in me. Everyone is an infant to me now. And you're, y'know, a decade younger than me."

His little grumble was cute.

MJ might not know how to make a portal watch or swing webs, but she could see when someone was hurt.

The entire situation hurt her best friend; Peter was a good man with a titanic heart, and it weighed heavily on him. She wanted to hug and tell him it was ok, but she couldn't lie to his face. She didn't know how this would turn out.

He cried himself to sleep last night. He was grieving the loss of his friends alone. He tended to put himself on an island when in pain, not wanting to put the burden on others. It was a selfless part of him she used to love, but now she worried.

Her best friend was in pain, as was her new friend.

"Is there anything that they can do here to help you?" MJ asked, her blue eyes wandering up to meet those dark sunglasses.

"There's nothing to help in my universe. I doubt it'll be any different here."

"You never know. They might have something for those allergies and the light thing."

"No."

"Hmm, that sounds like self-harm."

"It's not undeserved."

"What is it with Spidermen and being all self-sacrificing?"

"We have the power to do something. We can do enough to make a significant change. By sacrificing ourselves, the people we protect can rest in peace. That's what it means to be Spiderman."

"Almost sounds like a quote."

"It was. From the Spiderman of my universe before me."

He was from the future, but MJ didn't even consider there might have been a previous Spiderman. Was it like Peter and Miles?

It's exciting learning about other universes.

"What was he like? The one before you?"

"I never met him. He died long, long before I came to be. When Klyntarus ruled our universe, there weren't any heroes or anybody with the power to do something - I'm... still alone on that front. But he was a good man from what I understand."

At least Peter had co-workers, allies and friends.

She was sad knowing that Peter had died there. All of the other heroes, too. It wouldn't be surprising if Klyntarus had something to do with that.

It's sweet that he was inspired by the original Spiderman, though.

He's right, though. If you can make a change for the better, you should.

The creed of Spiderman is to put others before yourself; it's a heavy burden but an honourable one. She respected it.

"I'm glad that he inspired you."

"Gracias."

MJ didn't like the smell of the hospital entrance. It was messy, sterile and also tainted with puke. Thankfully, she wasn't alone in her disgust.

"Oh, mierda. Huele como una morgue horneada," he hissed, cringing.

"No idea what you said, tough guy, but agreed."

She didn't enjoy having to sign in. The receptionists weren't interested in being helpful, mostly ignoring MJ. They only started to pay attention when Miguel growled; it reminded MJ of a pissed-off cane corso.

Having a giant buff Latino vampire proved helpful. He's like a bodyguard, scaring people into listening to her. She used to do that for Peter when people ignored him for being a nerd.

She loves nerds. They've got so many interests and know many intriguing things. They can never bore you.

With the giant having kidnapped their attention, MJ was finally able to get things moving. All they had to do now was linger in the cesspool of stench until her doctor could be assed.

MJ's not happy about sitting on a warm chair surrounded by sick people, all looking as pleased as her.

She hates hospitals.

"How's your first hospital visit?"

"Mierda."

"Agreed."

Although MJ didn't have spidey sense, she had bullshit sense, courtesy of being a little redhead spitfire. She could detect something akin to one of those space wizards in those movies that Peter enjoyed.

There is a foulness in the force.

With some scouring, MJ spotted the source of the foulness. It was a woman glowering at her and her friend, paler than carved marble; she must be anaemic.

MJ's been around long enough to see one of those people.

She's not standing for it. She might be eight months pregnant and a shorty, but MJ had a spider's spirit.

Hopefully, she could distract him from that witch.

"If it's not rude for me to ask, is Nueva a Spanish version of new york?"

"No. It was destroyed in the calamity of 2038 and was rebuilt by Hector Nueva, soon named after him. I'm just Mexican. A little Irish, too."

"You're a damn big leprechaun."

"Very funny. I'm more like a Chupacabra, anyway."

"And here I thought you didn't like vampires."

"I don't. Vampires suck. Chupacabras are cool."

"They do suck."

"You're worse than Parker."

"I take that as a compliment, thank you."

Peter will feel much better knowing that she's not alone. She's got a buddy guard to protect her from any ominous sludge.

All Miguel has to do is sit in the corner and be spooky.

She was due measurements, weighing, blood pressure, a quick ultrasound, and possibly a pelvic exam - she hated those. It's so awkward and invasive.

While MJ should want nobody else in the room, she doesn't get a pervy vibe from Miguel. He didn't react when she came out of the shower, not bothered or even interested. He didn't have a single care about that sort of thing.

Her bullshit sense often intertwines with her gaydar. He's not straight; she knew that much. If she were a gambler, MJ would put her money on asexual.

Does he know what that is? She might ask later.

"MJ."

"Yeah?"

"We need to leave."

"Wait, is it him? Is he coming?" MJ questioned.

She was scared of being too close to that monster. It's hurt her friends so much, and she hasn't even seen it.

MJ didn't get to ask more as a roar echoed from outside.

Before she knew what was happening, she was facing the pale ceiling, bright orange webbing keeping her there. Several other people were up as well, but not her surprise roommate.

A suited Miguel was beneath her in the waiting room, his hands gripping the thick horn of nonother than Aleksei Sytsevich, also known as the Rhino.

Something was wrong, though. His thick hide was burned and scorched, ooze dripping and refusing to mix with his blood.

His face, usually mixed with rage and bloodlust, was full of fear and anguish. Most of his face was gone, reduced to burned bone. He only had a single eye, but she doubted he could see from it.

"Помогите мне кто-нибудь!" Rhino roared, his voice bloodcurdling and terrified. "Обжигает! Обжигает!"

MJ didn't understand Russian, but she knew he was in agony.

A black sludge ripped from his spine, red eyes scowling at Miguel.

"2099! What a coincidence! Such a little universe, hmm?" Klyntarus cackled, forcing Rhino to push forward. "Such weak little bodies. Can you imagine how it feels to be a flame sailing a sea of kerosene?"

"Eres toda mía, perra mocosa!"

"I look forward to you trying."

She winced as Rhino cried again, begging for help that couldn't come.

Klyntarus rammed into Miguel again, pushing him through the empty reception desk. People were running in panic, terrified.

MJ scrambled for her phone, texting Peter as quickly as she could. As soon as he realised she was there, it would go to ultimate shit.

Pick up your damn phone, Parker!

Peter hopped past Morbius' claws, finding them far less impressive than Miguel's. Honestly, the vamp had nothing on Peter's roommate.

He didn't have Miguel's power or claws; even Miguel's fangs were much more intimidating. The red of his eyes had much more potency than Morbius'.

"You are depriving some village of their idiot!" Morbius sneered, trying to pierce Peter.

"And Twilight is missing one of its vamps!"

Peter jumped on the ledge of a balcony, cracking his aching back.

He wasn't sure how to feel about Morbius now. He was somewhat interested at the beginning. After ten years, though? it got old.

At this point, Morbius was the villain of the week.

Weirdly, he felt like a knockoff compared to his fellow spider. He didn't have the same energy or vibe.

He can't put it into words exactly, but compared to Miguel, Morbius is nothing.

"That movie is an insult to what makes vampires so-"

"-Lame?" Peter finished, uninterested. "Are you going to sparkle now?"

"Insolent brat!"

"I'm almost forty, dude."

"You're younger than me, so you're a brat!"

Man, so this is how Miguel felt.

He's still going to annoy him over being younger. What friend would Peter be if he didn't?

When Morbius pounced, Peter jumped onto a nearby roof, feeling his cracked phone buzz. He should ignore it, given he's fighting a "mighty" foe, but his senses demand otherwise.

Peter looked at his phone, seeing a missed call from MJ. Was she done with her appointment already? That was quick!

The text, however, told him otherwise.

Fuck Peter with a salty menorah. He's there.

"I've got a thing. Debate movies with you later, Mikey!"

"Darn you, Spiderman!"

"Whatever!"

He wasted no chance racing towards the hospital, and police were already surrounding the chaos. He landed upon a police car, fear dancing in his bones.

Peter's spidey senses were screaming to run away, but he couldn't. His friends and baby were in there.

As expected, Jameson was still kicking, talking to news cameras, no doubt blaming Peter for this, somehow. He's glad he quit working for that asshole; it was such a toxic environment.

Whatever, he's too old to care about what Jameson's whining about.

Peter swung inside, smelling the rot already. He's here alright. It disgusted him that Klyntarus was attacking a hospital, but he was already vile; Peter shouldn't be shocked at his evil.

There were glowing, orange webs on the ceiling where MJ's text said she'd been. He couldn't see her anywhere, so he would have to go looking. The trail of bloody melted viscera and rot was a good indicator.

The hospital looked like something out of a horror movie; it was decayed, in ruin. It's been infected by Klyntarus.

He was scared that he would find her and hurt them. He was terrified of being a father but even more afraid of losing his child.

Fuck, how can Miguel cope with losing his daughter? Peter hadn't even met his kid and was scared for them.

Peter crept through the ruins, cautiously stepping over suspicious mounds that stank of death. He relied on his spidey senses, but they were overwhelmed by that monster's presence.

Something big had barrelled through the hospital, almost like a torpedo or tank. It would take ages to fix this place up if that were even possible.

Klyntarus destroyed everything around him. It's likely that wherever he goes, it's inhospitable.

He saw some glowing web, a sign of his teammate. He followed it, finding a deep hole that ran so far down that Peter couldn't see the bottom. It appeared to reach the under levels of the hospital; there should only be a basement, though.

Another buzz from his damaged phone - a text!

Peter stared at it, analysing the three dancing dots that eventually became a message. His heart was tachycardic with worry and fear.

The older Spiderman ran, looking at the fading numbers on the doors he passed. He paused at 16B, the one that MJ's number indicated. Despite knowing it could be a trap, Peter broke the door open, scouring the room.

MJ was sitting beside a gurney. She was in shock, afraid and alone.

A recently deceased young man lay not far from her. He was horrifically burned, and most of his left leg was reduced to sludge. He died slowly; Peter knew that as soon as he spotted him.

He quickly came to his best friend's side, checking her for injuries.

"He had Rhino's body," MJ whimpered, shaking from the ordeal. "He was crying for help, Peter. Rhino. He was in agony."

That explained why the hospital had a giant hole in it.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Peter said, bridal carrying his close friend. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No. No, Miguel distracted him so we could run out. Something went wrong, though. The bodies didn't stay -"

"Parker!"

Peter twisted to the deceased man, who was now sitting up, black fluid running from his orifices. His eyes were empty, devoid of life, but something was in there, puppeteering him.

He was close to tightening his grip but knew it'd hurt MJ. He wouldn't do that to her.

She clung to his body, hiding her face in his chest.

"He will reign long, and your friend will be far too gone!" the corpse cackled, rotting at an astonishing rate. He melted to bones before Peter's eyes. Not even his clothes survived the rot.

As cryptic as that was, Peter knew what it was implying.

Peter had to get MJ outside first, however.

He made his way out of the hospital, feeling that fear fade with each step. The further from Klyntarus he was, the more confident he felt.

Did Klyntarus' very presence rot your soul? It seemed so.

"Keep her safe," Peter ordered a surprised and confused police officer, turning back towards the building. "And don't let anybody else inside. I mean it."

"It's the same thing that killed those heroes, isn't it?" the officer said, removing her jacket to cover MJ. "Don't die in there, Spiderman."

"I don't plan on it."

He couldn't make any promises.

So, fear growing in his chest, Peter returned to the leftover Walking Dead set. He wouldn't be shocked to find Rick Grimes' room where he was somehow untouched in a coma for a year.

That entire show was a fever dream; he was sure of it. After Glenn died, the only fun left was, ironically, Negan. He'll have to make Miguel watch that.

When he arrived at the suspicious hole, Peter jumped. His knees complained when he landed, cracking in all the wrong and unsatisfying ways.

The fear of Klyntarus was far more potent than before, suffocating Peter in an aura of fear and death.

He's not looking for that thing, though.

Peter quickly spotted the entrance to a tunnel that shouldn't exist.

Rhino's body lay mangled and twisted at the entrance like a macabre decoration. Instead of being melted, it looked like a savage beast and tore the poor bastard apart. He didn't want to be on the backside of whatever caused that.

He walked down the tunnels, listening out for his friend.

His senses went off, sending a tingle down his spine. He turned around, annoyed to see Morbius had followed him.

"Not the time, Count Lame-ula. Ugh, that sounded better in my head. Whatever, could you go and haunt some little kid's birthday party? I'm in the middle of something."

"What horrors could have created such strife?" Morbius asked, both in awe and horrified by the situation.

"An extradimensional genocidal evil Symbiote that decays whatever he touches. You should go before you eats you, too."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care."

"You're trying to deceive me!"

"Not everything is about you!"

"Fool! I am the reincarnation of the great Count Dracula!"

"Sure, and I'm the reincarnation of Link - see my little fairy, Navi? We're on our way to rescue Zelda," Peter sighed, rolling his eyes behind his mask. "Just go bother someone else, alright?"

Vampires suck.

Peter paused, feeling something else was down here. It wasn't Klyntarus, but it felt similar and yet distinct. He could feel it was nearby and dangerous, but not the precise position.

That "something" was coming and fast.

Of course, Morbius acted like a child and attempted to attack Peter while distracted. He wouldn't get the chance to get close, however.

A blur of red and dark pounced upon Morbius before he could reach Peter, his senses screaming at him to run. He couldn't see what it was but could hear the rabid rage and terrified cries.

Peter webbed the mysterious form and pulled it away from Michael, hearing a dog-like grunt of annoyance and frustration.

A pair of deep, red eyes stared back at Peter. They were similar to Klyntarus'; they had his unique shade, but Klyntarus didn't have pupils or irises. The eye shape was far too human to be Klyntarus, even if he tried to make a human body.

The eyes were what Peter was focused on at first, but then he saw what the rest of the red was.

A suit.

"Miguel?" Peter questioned, realising what, or rather who, he was looking at.

His pupils were so thin they were almost non-existent. He was shaking, breathing heavily and hunched over, foamy drool dripping onto the ground.

While Miguel didn't exist to Peter's spidey sense, this did. It wasn't the same as Klyntarus, but it was similar enough.

Miguel was swallowing air. It's like he was in a scary trance, trapped far away.

His claws were out, ready to scratch something that wasn't there. His fingers were shaking so much.

Peter felt like he was looking at a werewolf, pure instinct and consciousness battling for control, and the former was dominant.

Morbius shifted into shadows, reforming behind "Miguel". It was a stupid idea, for Miguel turned and bit Morbius' arm.

Having seen what it could do to Klyntarus, Peter grabbed his friend. The stupid villain was clawing at Miguel's face, trying to make him let go. Glowing blue was dripping from Morbius' arm - the venom was already being delivered.

"Get it off me!" Morbius yelled, turning his vampiric claws to Miguel's neck. He wouldn't let go, eyes staring at something that wasn't there.

It was clear Miguel wasn't there. He couldn't hear Peter, stuck in this bizarre and scary trance.

An idea came to Peter.

He took out his phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it directly into Miguel's eyes.

The trance version of his friend yowled, letting go to cover his eyes. While Morbius had left deep scratches on his face, the photophobia forced him to let go.

Morbius stumbled back, his arm shaking horribly.

Ignoring the vampire, Peter grabbed Miguel's shoulders, trying to figure out what was happening.

His "buddy" dropped his arms loosely, glowering towards Peter, but it didn't seem directed at him.

"It's me. It's Peter, alright?" Peter said, trying to get through to him. "How about we sit down? Does that sound good?"

He knew Miguel was much more powerful than him, but Peter's faster. If he needed to, Peter could stick to the walls or ceiling.

Encouraging his distant friend to sit down, Peter watched him, paying attention to his eyes.

Without any stimulation, he watched the redness in his eyes fade. When the red left, some awareness returned, replaced by confusion.

"What happened?" Peter asked, glancing at the groaning Morbius still clutching his arm.

"Había mucho ruido," Miguel muttered, rubbing his eyes. "He tried to take me. Estúpido bastardo."

The corpse's warning.

Did Klyntarus trigger a flight or fight response, only instead of Miles' invisibility, Miguel went rabid? It could've been a PTSD thing, too.

"Where's MJ?"

"She's safe," Peter said, feeling Klyntarus' presence growing. "We need to go."

Peter grabbed the taller man's side, feeling his broken ribs. That never seemed to stop him.

"I can move."

"I don't doubt that, but you still seem out of it."

The possession attempt had an impact, as he was still spaced out. It was like he was stoned or drunk.

"Happens sometimes," his friend grunted, a noise that did things Peter wished it didn't. "I didn't hurt you?"

"No. All I'm hurting from is arthritis."

"I always hurt someone..."

He didn't like hearing the sadness and regret there. And Peter couldn't say that he hadn't. He attacked Morbius and must've killed Rhino, though that seemed to be a mercy.

"Indeed."

Peter scowled at Morbius' body, watching "his" head tilt. While Peter was focused on Miguel, he didn't even realise Morbius got snatched.

He didn't like the guy, but Morbius didn't deserve that fate.

The kidnapped body was already starting to decay.

"I'm going to take everything from you, Peter. I'll break you in ways you didn't think could be broken. And I'll have him, too," Klyntarus vowed, tilting Morbius' head too far to the right. "I'll let you play with my toy for now. It'll make it all the easier to break him after I've shredded your soul."

"What's to stop me from walking over there and ripping you out of there?"

"Because you're like all the other Parkers I've eaten. You don't kill, even when you want to. You won't kill me while I'm in someone's body. It's cowardice I thankfully bred out of my true body." His friend hissed, but it only made Klyntarus smile. "You've come so far from the fragile ball of flesh I ripped from that whore wetback."

Peter can't kill. It's his greatest strength and his weakness. How is he meant to beat something that'll only stop if it's destroyed?

He needed to get Miguel out of here and look after MJ. He had to find somewhere safe for her to stay.

Regardless of how his friend felt, they needed help. They were going to get the X-Men for backup.

"Until I find a more suitable temporary vessel, Parker. Farewell."

Peter shot a web at Morbius' possessed body, but he vanished into shadow.

Another day where he could've done something but didn't have the balls. That was a theme he was getting angry at.

"Maldito cobarde."

"Yeah, to whatever you said, pal."

Xavier's going to have a field day over this.

Special thanks to spider-the-bat for the borders!

#ao3 refugee #ao3 might be fucked #ao3fic #peter b parker #miguel o'hara #peter b parker x miguel o'hara #spiderdads #klyntarus #symbiotes #mj watson #bestie goals mj #across the spider verse #spiderman atsv #attempted spanish #plague of the spiderverse series #with thunder comes lightning

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