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#push each other to be better versions of themselves

narniangirl1994 · 1 year

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It's interesting how so many of Roy and Keeley's relationship breakthroughs/milestones happen as a direct or indirect result of Jamie. Obviously them meeting in the first place was probably only because she started dating Jamie. But there were also so many other instances.

Keeley trying to make Jamie jealous by bidding on Roy at the charity auction led to the conversation between her and Roy about him not wanting to be used as a pawn and her realizing she needed to be accountable, which was their first significant conversation together before dating and the first real glimpse into what she could have with someone more mature. When Roy messed up his knee chasing Jamie down on the field, it allowed Keeley to comfort Roy at his most vulnerable moment and get that much closer to him.

When Keeley really wanted Roy to get out of his retirement funk and connect with football again, she compared him to Jamie trying to get back into the game. And directly after comparing Roy to Jamie (calling Jamie brave), Roy agreed to try the pundit gig and rediscovered his love of being involved in the game - allowing him to be vulnerable and passionate again for Keeley. When Roy was unknowingly crowding Keeley too much and didn't entirely understand where she was coming from, Jamie's statement about needing to give his fellow players space on the field helped Roy understand Keeley's need for space.

It's also fascinating how Jamie's love confession at the funeral came directly before and closely paralleled Roy's own confession to her about his feelings about death/love for Keeley. Jamie has also led to the individual growth of both Roy and Keeley (arguably Roy more than Keeley) and vice versa. This all makes for a very fascinating dynamic...

#that i kinda wish they would explore via polyamory #rather than your standard love triangle #or technically a love angle #like #they all have two hands lol #idk i can see how them as an ot3 has its downsides #but i can also see in many ways how the 3 of them help each other grow #push each other to be better versions of themselves #and directly or indirectly improve the relationship dynamic of the other two #reminds me a little of how new girl showed jess being key to nick and reagan working as a couple #but instead of that being proof keeley belongs with jamie #it would be cool to see them explore that as proof the three of them together are what makes the relationship work #my guess is the show isnt gonna go there #cause very few shows ever do #its always presented as one or the other #and if thats the case so be it #i can see other types of dynamics between these characters too #like im not opposed to a more brotherly reading of roy and jamie #and jamie being platonic besties with Keeley #but for once i just want a show to follow through on these types of subtle parallels #and do something interesting with them #ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #keeley jones #roy x keeley x jamie #keeley x roy x jamie #jamie x keeley x roy

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xiatarot · 2 months

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pick a pile: how do they feel about you?

< choose an image >

for entertainment purposes only.

take what resonates, leave what doesn't. ♡

your person sees you as someone that changed them for the better. communication with you for them has always been very introspective and your words and way of doing things always pushed them to become the best version of themselves. they see you as someone very kind and sweet, someone nurturing and full of love who likes to take care of the people in their life and make them happy. you make them feel very calm, i’m hearing ‘like coming back home after a long day at work’. they hold so much respect and admiration towards you. a lot of affection as well.

i’d be surprised if you and this person were in communication right now, because it seems like there’s distance between you two and a lot has been left unsaid. i don’t think this person has ever told you how they feel about you, i feel like they want to keep this hidden, so if they’re acting really distant and not communicating, that’s why.

they have a lot of anxiety towards this situation, because they want to come forward and open up their heart to you, but they might fear rejection or a situation that won’t go anywhere. i think that if they want to have something with you, they want it to be secure and long lasting. despite their fears, i do think they’re gonna come forward and very soon as well. they have a lot they want to say to you but as of now they’re still just daydreaming about it.

when they do come forward, they’re going to do it in a very lighthearted way, they might crack some jokes here and there or just act like they don’t care much, but they’ll be freaking out on the inside. they will want to test the waters first and then they might drop a bomb on you very unexpectedly, telling you how they truly feel. you might be caught off guard.

zodiac signs: taurus, leo, sagittarius

channeled song:

get your personal reading here: ♡

II.

your person definitely has romantic feelings for you, however i don’t think they’re ready to tell you that. you might be in the same friend group or have just known each other for a very long time, i’m hearing childhood friends. it seems like they’re scared to open up because they’re not really sure about how you feel and if they told you and you didn’t accept their feelings, things between you two would become awkward and they don’t want to lose the connection you two already have. if they want to come forward, they want to make sure that they’re not risking losing your friendship in the midst of it all.

they might’ve tried to open up to you in the past, maybe in a social setting, because i’m seeing them regretting not doing it and wondering how things would be now if they did. you’re really a dream come true to this person and inside of them they’re very determined to make your friendship more than just that but i think that when they see you all of their courage turns into weakness, and they let their insecurities and fears take over.

they might be putting a facade on, in order not to let you know how they truly feel, and that is hurting them deeply. they’re giving me a very frustrating energy.

you and this person could have had past lives together.

they might ask you indirect questions sometimes in order to understand if there’s a possibility of you reciprocating their feelings. i think the universe is kinda pushing them towards you so that you two can finally be together.

zodiac signs: aquarius, taurus, leo

channeled song:

get your personal reading here: ♡

III.

this person is fighting with their feelings right now. i feel like they do have strong romantic feelings for you but they’re just not ready to acknowledge them at the moment, so they’re trying to convince themselves that they don’t feel anything, but, big spoiler, they do, and it’s a lot. i feel a very very strong sexual energy, so if you were intimate with this person i feel like they just can’t get it out of their head. maybe they expected this to just be a physical thing, but it turned out they want more with you. this could be someone that’s not used to genuine romantic relationships and just prefers to keep things physical. could be a bit of a control freak too, and that’s why this situation is very frustrating for them.

they do want to open up and tell you about this but i feel like their ego is way too strong right now and they’re letting it lead them. they could be making up excuses as to why they can’t tell you about this or how things could go terribly wrong if they did. this person will have to figure out some stuff, do some shadow work and understand the reason why they act the way they do before they can commit to someone and have a healthy relationship.

they might be acting cold towards you and i wouldn’t be surprised if they ghosted you even. there’s a lot going on internally for them and i feel like you unconsciously triggered some stuff that they’ve been trying to suppress for a very long time.

as of now i don’t see them coming towards you in the near future because they need to work on themselves, and my advice for you would be to detach and just let things flow. focus on yourself and your needs and if this person is destined to be in your life, they will be when the time is right.

zodiac signs: leo, aquarius, gemini, libra

channeled song:

get your personal reading here: ♡

#tarot #love tarot reading #tarot cards #daily tarot #tarot community #tarot deck #tarot reader #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #xiatarot #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card #pick an image #Spotify

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ladyshinga · 3 months

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I keep being told to "adapt" to this new AI world.

Okay.

Well first of all, I've been training myself more and more how to spot fake images. I've been reading every article with a more critical eye to see if it's full of ChatGPT's nonsense. I've been ignoring half the comments on stuff just assuming it's now mostly bots trying to make people angry enough to comment.

When it comes to the news and social issues, I've started to focus on and look for specific journalists and essayists whose work I trust. I've been working on getting better at double-checking and verifying things.

I have been working on the biggest part, and this one is a hurdle: PEOPLE. People whose names and faces I actually know. TALKING to people. Being USED to talking to people. Actual conversations with give and take that a chat bot can't emulate even if their creators insist they can.

All of this combined is helping me survive an AI-poisoned internet, because here's what's been on my mind:

What if the internet was this poisoned in 2020?

Would we have protested after George Floyd?

A HUGE number of people followed updates about it via places like Twitter and Tiktok. Twitter is now a bot-hell filled with nazis and owned by a petulant anti-facts weirdo, and Tiktok is embracing AI so hard that it gave up music so that its users can create deepfakes of each other.

Would information have traveled as well as it did? Now?

The answer is no. Half the people would have called the video of Floyd's death a deepfake, AI versions of it would be everywhere to sew doubt about the original, bots would be pushing hard for people to do nothing about it, half the articles written about it would be useless ChatGPT garbage, and the protests themselves… might just NOT have happened. Or at least, they'd be smaller - AND more dangerous when it comes to showing your face in a photo or video - because NOW what can people DO with that photo and video? The things I mentioned earlier will help going forward. Discernment. Studying how the images look, how the fake audio sounds, how the articles often talk in circles and litter in contradictory misinformation. and PEOPLE.

PEOPLE is the biggest one here, because if another 2020-level event happens where we want to be protesting on the streets by the thousands, our ONLY recourse right now is to actually connect with people. Carefully of course, it's still a protest, don't use Discord or something, they'll turn your chats over to cops.

But what USED to theoretically be "simple" when it came to leftist organizing ("well my tweet about it went viral, I helped!") is just going to require more WORK now, and actual personal communication and connection and community. I know if you're reading this and you're American, you barely know what that feels like and I get it. We're deprived of it very much on purpose, but the internet is becoming more and more hostile to humanity itself. When it comes to connecting to other humans… we now have to REALLY connect to other humans

I'm sorry. This all sucks. But adapting usually does.

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anim-ttrpgs · 21 days

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The Kickstarter for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is Live!!

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is our team’s debut TTRPG, over three years in the making! The campaign will run from April 10th to May 10th!

youtube

How far would you go to learn the truth?

Play amateur detectives caught up in things they barely understand, and explore how the lives of your characters unravel as they push themselves to dig deeper into the unknown!

Tense investigations!

Delve into an investigation-focused mystery and horror system that lets players take initiative and use their characters’ unique strengths to find clues and deduce conclusions themselves. A few bad rolls won’t get the party hopelessly stuck, but at the same time Eureka respects their intellect and lets them take charge of solving the mystery!

Character-driven gameplay!

Stats and abilities are based on who your character is as a person. Freeform character creation allows you to build a totally unique little guy, and have a totally unique gameplay experience with him! This is supported by the backbone of the Composure mechanic. Stress, fear, fatigue, and hunger will wear your investigators down as they trudge deeper into the unknown. Food, sleep, and connections with their fellow investigators are the only way to keep them going!

Secrets inside and out!

Any investigator could be a monster, helping their friends while trying not to reveal their true natures. The party will learn to trust and rely on each other, or explode into a tangled net of drama!

Intense, tactical combat!

Hits are devastating, and misses are unpredictable–firing a gun will always change the situation somehow, for better or for worse!

Now in Technicolor!

Evocative artwork from talented femme-fatales @chaospyromancy and @qsycomplainsalot and the mysterious @theblackwarden paint a gorgeously-realized portrait of a world with shadows lurking in every corner.

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. We are almost at the end, we just need some financial support to put the finishing touches on it and make the final push to get it ready for official release!

With every stretch goal we meet, the game gets better and better. Tons of beautiful new artwork, new options for gameplay, and even two entirely new playable Monsters could be added to the book, so visit the Kickstarter and secure your copy today!

If you want to try before you buy, you can download a free demo of the prerelease version from our website or our itch.io page!

If you’re interested in a more updated and improved version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy than the free demo you got from our website, subscribe to our Patreon where we frequently roll our new updates for the prerelease version!

You can also support us on Ko-fi, or by checking out our merchandise!

Join our TTRPG Book Club At the time of writng this, Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is the current game being played in the book club, and anyone who wants to participate in discussion, but can’t afford to make a contribution, will be given the most updated prerelease version for free! Plus it’s just a great place to discuss and play new TTRPGs you might not be able to otherwise!

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

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t34-mt · 8 months

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tepueh pu, the domesticated que'arsaeb animals of maanuls that act as a "sheperd dog" for them, but for the ocean obviously. more info and images below ->

tepueh pu are a tiny aquatic animal of the que'arsaeb reign meaning it has 6 limbs and its body is segmented in distinct parts, It also means they have a sort of "bone" exo-skeleton with rough skin on top. their front limbs who serve no purpose but to do courting dance and occasionally help themselves to crawl around.

The fur-like things around the eyes and front limbs are purely for courtship, they are not made out of modified feathers as feathers are exclusive to the silieus reign, instead its sort of bristles that are quite rough to the human touch. maanuls do find it entertaining to see them court and as a result of that, they get excited during the part of the year when they court. Creating safe temporary spaces on the beach usually being circle-shaped, all maanuls do is watch them perform and fall over, if they cant get up they come and assist them to put them on their feet again. Tepueh courting consists of them desperately trying to get on their feet (usually being pushing themselves onto a rock to balance on their feet, but more commonly maanuls help them to), then the bright ones will shake their arms. Extending them and vigorously shaking the bits that have the bristles, that when rubbing against each other rapidly, create a sound that can be compared to sand being shaken in a jar. the brighter the bristles, the better the sound, and the bigger the moves is what will attract a partner. Said partners are the dull ones.

I'm not sure if they're a unisex species, they might just be random individuals who get a certain boost of hormones that gives them bright bristles and they have to perform for the others who are dull, or if they're just bright males and dull females.

Like i said they're very pathetic on land, meaning maanuls carry them when they need to be transported on land for a reason. Central north maanuls who need to migrate once a year due to temperature drops in the far north have to carry their Tepueh pu on long distances, thus they use these attire, where they attach 2 tupueh pu per side, transporting 4 in total. While I'm talking about north maanuls, every other maanuls would also use this attire to transport multiple tupueh pu. Although said attire has regional variants in terms of designs, a rough look at what a northern one would look like here ->

as seen in the example, tupueh pu can have different color variations per region, While this is not the final look of northern tupeuh pu there would be light coloration from mutations. Tupueh pu are purely bred to be working species not a pet, so while color mutations are seen as a fun thing its not their priority or what they're searching for. While not a family pet it doesn't mean children do not play with them from time to time in the water. However, tupueh pu can be used as a service "pet" in the water for maanuls with blindness or other disabilities affecting vision that would require a service pet to navigate in waters. tupueh pu are never bred to be fancy but to be useful to maanuls, they're very grateful to have them and treat them with great respect.

While they are not house pets it doesn't mean they cannot be pampered outside of working hours by maanuls, being given treats, groomed daily by owners, and being treated with care for the smallest illness they could catch.

the breathing holes of tupueh pu are on each side of their back, due to being aquatic for quite a while their opperculums had the time to shift to a more convenient place for quick gasp of air at the surface. Their maanul owners however do not, maanuls when wanting to breathe before swimming again need to get on their back once reaching the surface, as their opperculums are placed here. While technically they could push air to enter their vocal vents and redirect it to the lungs its not something they do as they do not inhale enough air using this method to feel comfortable.

ocean shepherd as a concept (final version will be posted separately)

warning The cattle shown here is not the final design, they will not look like this once ocean sheperd as a concept are done and fleshed out in the future. this is just an example

ocean shepherd, or just called shepherd among maanuls, originally i thought of them guarding a group of smaller animals (small fish) tho the idea of one or three large slow domesticated cattle sounds more cool in my opinion and also easier to contain for maanuls overall. their cattle would need maanul assistance to live comfortably, maanul coming near them by canoe or even swimming if they're not so far. usually always have at least one maanul by their side who shifts their guarding job with other fishermen after a period of time. I imagine said cattle to be kept in a shallow kelp forest where it has all the food it needs, and little to no predators around to worry around. Maanuls might even sit on their backs during their shift duty because the cattle is docile and doesn't bother them doing it, plus they also need to get on them when they pamper them (by cleaning them)

this is my rough vision of it for now, while i have tupueh pu (tho its quite bare bones on this post) , i just need to design the cattle now, then write a whole long post about how maanul sheperds works.

- - -

the vague shapes i did to figure out tupueh pu (in chronological order)

heres some fun stuff, i wanted them to be awkward looking, those penguins from subnautica were on the back of my mind while doing them, creature design is just doing vague shapes for me

#ms paint #ocean sheperd #digital art #my art #artists on tumblr #worldbuilding #speculative zoology #altuyur #2023 #maanul #tepueh pu #alien #xenofiction #concept art #sketches

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lizzyk137 · 6 months

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Genuis Vs Genuis: A Spencer Reid Story (Spencer X Reader)

Summary: Spencer and you have known each other academically since they were kids and never got off on the right foot. When you transfer over to the F.BI. behavioral unit from N.C.I.S., Spencer starts to not play nice. Warning: Angst, swearing, mentions of death/murder.

Part 2 on its way! Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

The day started off great. It was actually relaxing for Spencer. His files had been finished and no new cases had presented themselves in the last couple of days. So there he sat, coffee in hand as he watched the team fool around as he threw in a chuckle here and there. He was content.

It was all good till he heard the shrill of your voice calling his name out.

He turned away from the group to see you bounding over to him, enfulfing him into a hug before his brain could even register the what, why and how's of the situation.

The team snickered at the interaction, the newcomer's face bright and happy with the biggest grin while Spencer's was a face of horror.

He had no idea how you found him or why you were here but he wanted you gone.

"Spence! It's been so long! How have you been?" You asked, ignoring the physical cringe Spencer had given to you using his nickname.

He collected his thoughts and replied with a short but curt answer of fine, then went back to drinking his coffee like it was the only way it could get rid of you.

The smile you had on your face couldn't hide the hurt that you felt. You thought after years of not seeing each other and maturing into adults that Spencer would at least come around to being nice to you or at least be polite. But Spencer was still the Spencer you knew. Childish. Though you'd never say it outloud it was clearly present for all to see once they got to see the dynamic between you two.

You were academic rivals growing up. You never met each other until high school but growing up you saw your names in the paper or during award ceremonies. You were always fighting for the top spot even if it wasn't the intention. Both of you were the same, no matter how much Spencer fought it. Both having the same IQ (187, to which Spencer would claim that you can't accurately quantify intelligence), and you both had an eidetic memory along with being able to read 20,000 words per minutes. You were practically the female version of him.

He hated you though. During elementary school and middle school, he enjoyed the competition. It pushed him to be better, but when high school came, it just got annoying. He didn't fit in to begin with and with teachers and students comparing the both of you together, it was a blow to what little ego he had.

You both finally came face to face during an awards ceremony during your highschool years. He remembered it clearly. You coming up to him before the ceremony, introduced yourself and then acted like you both were best friends and stuck to him like glue throughout the whole thing. Both of your families cooing at the sight of the both of you, a giant grin on your face while he scowled.

Spencer and you had ended up going to the same college- Caltech. He never told you where he was going but somehow on the first day of school, you came running up to him so happy to see him. All throughout his college years he couldn't shake you. Always making the same friends, always inviting him places, showing up at the same places he was. It annoyed him to no ends. You even forced him to attend a house party where you both partook in too much alcohol causing a lapse of time where you both have no idea what happened. You could later recall waking up next to Spencer in bed, both of you had no clothes on while you struggled to wake him up and get changed as the cops busted up the place. To which Spencer still denies since he can't remember a thing.

Three years before joining the BAU, you disappeared out of his life, which he was beyond grateful for. At first it made him nervous cause you just disappeared without a word to him, but then he eventually put his thoughts elsewhere and the thought of you never arose in his mind until now.

"Everyone, this is Dr. Y/N Y/LN. She's from NCIS. She works as a forensic specialist there along with a field agent." Hotch spoke to the group before him as he watched them eye you. "She's been assigned to our team to get more of an understanding with profiling for their team back at NCIS. She'll be working on cases with us for the next couple of months."

You smiled and gave a little wave to the team, a few waving back and all of them but Spencer smiling up at you. Hotch gave a small squeeze on your shoulder then climbed the stairs to his office.

An older gentleman came up to you first, introducing himself as Rossi, then the rest of the team introduced themselves. Your profiling wasn't the greatest but you could tell they were curious to know what was going on between Spencer and yourself. Your lips were sealed for the time being though, you could tell Spencer still didn't care for you and for the sake of your learning and the work environment you decided it best not to bring up anything.

You knew Spencer didn't care for you. As much as you were alike academically, you were the opposite socially. Your parents brought you up letting you enjoy being a kid, having you socialize with kids your age even if you weren't in the same grade at school. They wanted normalcy in your life since school was the exact opposite. Growing up, you had always wanted to meet Spencer. You saw his pictures and had developed a little crush on him which only grew as you got older. You thought he would appreciate a friend who could understand him, so you put yourself out there, always trying to be friendly and be there for him. Have him experience things that people your age where doing or things that college kids would attend or do. Nothing pleased him though. You made friends only to find out that they were friends with him which only made him dislike you more. You tried to pull away from him because you could tell he wasn't fond of you, but the universe kept pushing you together.

The only thing that got you two apart was the Navy. You enlisted and past all their requirements and you were given the opportunity to help build communities back up in the Middle East with new housing and building's and eventually helping with creating medication for underdeveloped communities that were affordable along with equipment and weapons that could help serve the Navy. You were doing good, but your heart still yearned for Spencer, no matter who you tried to get to replace him. You came to love Spencer throughout your college years, while he came to resent you even more. You wanted to tell him you were leaving but he never came the night before your enlistment date. Leaving you stranded in the park at night with a broken heart.

You had started at NCIS five years ago, you were a forensic specialist working side by side with Abby. You were both Ying and Yang to each other, best friends but the polar opposite appearance wise which you loved. While she wore black, you wore white or pastels. She called you her angel which everyone adopted into becoming your nickname.

When Vance came to you with a chance to learn more about profiling from the BAU, you took it. You were good as a field agent and even better with a weapon. It hurt to leave your family, but Gibbs assured you that the team you were working with was great. Fornell vouched for them too, and you were excited to meet the team. As you entered the glass doors, you were surprised to see Spencer there sipping his coffee, his smile setting butterflies off in your stomach.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, you can call me Angel though! It's really nice to meet everyone."

"Angel?" Emily questioned, as she took a seat.

"Um, yeah, my team calls me it back home because I wear a lot of white." You gestured to your all while jumpsuit and blazer.

"And you're a forensic specialist and a field agent and you wear white?" Morgan asked as he eyed you, with a small smirk on his face.

"Yeah, it's my colour. Plus, I know enough not to get too dirty." You laughed. You rummaged through your bag, pulling out a picture of the team back home and showed it to the new team standing before you. "This is my family back home. The girl in all black is the other forensic specialist I work with."

Rossi chuckled. "I think she would get along with our Penelope. She's got quite the wardrobe."

"I met with her the other day, she's sweet."

The rest of the morning was spent with getting to know everyone, Spencer alone at his desk annoyance written all over him as he watched his team, his family, surround your desk laughing and having a good time.

Weeks have gone by and the atmosphere surrounding Spencer and you was staring to become sour more each day. You tried your hardest to work well with everyone and bring as much as you could to each case in order to solve it, but Spencer hated that. It felt like with each case, you were getting better at figuring out the clues that he could. Each case seemed to get easier for you as you made your way through the evidence and what you were profiling. Your knowledge in forensics came in useful, he had to admit, but the team started relying on you more than they did him.

Hotch at first had paired the two of you up after the team found out that you and Spencer had a few things in common in the genius department after you went all out on your first case together. Now Hotch was pairing you with Emily or Morgan, even Hotch himself, once they saw you use a firearm and take down two grown man bare handed. It took him years to be comfortable with his firearm and here you were leaving him in the dust. You never boasted your intelligence or not fit in unlike Spencer. It wasn't so much you as a person he didn't like but how much of a blow it was to him to not be able to compete with you.

Spencer watched you as you looked at the deceased couple on the table before you. Hotch had sent the both of you together, hoping Spencer would finally come to his senses and maybe even try to like you. The sexual tension between you the two of you was clear as day to everyone but the both of you. Spencer kept his feelings in check by acting like he disliked you while you were always nice to him but tended to pour yourself into work whenever he was nearby. As intelligent as the both of you were, you weren't geniuses in the feelings department.

"I think we should let Hotch know, what we found out." Your voice bringing Spencer out of his thoughts. He nodded his head as you dialed Hotch's number.

"How do you know so much about autopsies?" Spencer questioned once you were off the phone.

You shrugged as you hopped into the car. "I watched Ducky and Palmer do enough of them throughout the years, so I know a thing or two about them. Plus, I took a few courses on it too while I was with the Navy."

Spencer didn't say anything, just nodded his head as he buckled in.

A few days into the case with no leads, everyone was going a bit stir crazy as the team got no sleep. You came in that morning with muffins and donuts along with a few jugs of freshly brewed coffee unlike the imposter that called itself coffee in the precinct.

"Oh, how I love you, my sweet angel!" Emily said as you set down the jug of coffee in front of her. You chuckled at her remarks and blew her a kiss before you turned around to see Spencer looking at you in disgust. You quickly looked away and turned to Rossi on the other side of the conference room.

"Coffee and a donut?"

"Yes, please!" He said with a smile.

You looked down at the pictures of the deceased that was in his hand. "Are those the crime scene photos of the last couple? I saw the bodies after their autopsy but haven't seen much of the crime scene. Can I take a look?"

He nodded and handed the stack to you. You studied each one carefully before you got to the last photo, your eyes growing wise and you stood up, running over to Hotch, the team looking at you questioningly.

"Was this crime scene gone over with forensics yet?" You asked hurriedly, bouncing on your toes with excitement.

"Partily but it was mostly blood, so they didn't get anything."

You shoved the photo at him and pointed to the small smudge on the wall. "Did they see this?"

"What is it supposed to be?" Hotch asked, squinting at the photo trying to see what you were seeing.

"It looks like a possible print. We need to go back there and collect it."

You heard a sigh behind you then Spencer's hand reached out from behind you and grabbed the picture. "It looks like nothing but a speck on a blown-up picture. The forensics team covered the entire scene, they would have noticed it if it was anything." He looked at you with pure anger in his eyes that it made you lean away, hands shaking. "I don't know what they do at N.C.I.S, but our forensic team does things correctly."

You felt your body stiffen and your eyes slightly water. All you were able to do was given a curt nod and nudge your way around him, as you made your way to the front bullpen. You didn't need anything, but you had to get away from the environment. Spencer was starting to get to you, no matter how much training you had to stay composed, he was just able to break down your walls and make you feel so small. And with this frustrating case and over a month worth of him belittling you, you were finally breaking.

Running a hand through your hair, you sat at a computer to check the forensic findings, no fingerprints were found but you couldn't be too careful. You headed out of the precinct and took one of the SUVs to the crime scene. You arrived at the crime scene quickly and walked inside to find what you were looking for. And there it was, right where it was on the picture. A perfect fingerprint.

"I can't believe they missed that." Jenn said, as the team was finishing up the last of their paperwork on the case back at their home office a few days after the team took down another killer.

"She was just lucky." You heard Spencer mutter from behind you.

You took a deep breath in and started to stack your paperwork. The room cleared out besides Spencer and yourself. Hotch came down and stopped by your desk. "The paperwork is being processed and they'll get you transportation back to Quantico. You'll have to do exit paperwork tomorrow but take the rest of the day and the day after for yourself."

You smiled up at him, not before noticing Spencer was looking over at the two of you. "Thank you for everything, I've learned so much."

"No, thank you for all your help with the past cases. I look forward to working with you again." He held out his hand to you and you shook it before standing up and giving him a large hug, Spencer's eyes growing big at the affection you gave to Hotch. "Oh, and remember, dinner tomorrow night at Rossi's."

"Wouldn't miss it." With that said, Hotch smiled and walked away.

You started packing up the rest of your desk items then grabbed your jacket to head out, ignoring Spencer's watching you with curiosity. You nearly made it to the elevator before you heard your name being called out. You turned around to find Spencer standing only a few feet behind you.

"Can I help you?" You knew how it sounded, snappy and short, but you didn't care, you were finally done with Dr. Spencer Reid.

"Um..." He started to take a step forward but thought better of it. "You're leaving? You still have a few more months left here, though. Why are you leaving early?"

The elevator dinged behind you as it opened, and you took a step back into it. You couldn't help the short laugh that escaped your lips as you shook your head. At this point, you didn't care what answer came out because you would never be seeing Spencer again. Your breath shook as you breathed in as the doors started to close, Spencer worriedly looking at you. "Because of you, Dr. Reid."

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projectionistwrites · 1 year

Note

moonboys and a reader who maladaptive daydreams?

hi, nonnie! thank you for this request, you must’ve seen my blog description haha. this is my first fic request which is very exciting! my inbox is always open so if you’d like to request something, i’d appreciate it. :) anyway, i hope you like it!

IMPLODING THE MIRAGE

Moon Knight x afab!reader (primarily Marc Spector) (10.6k+)

You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: maladaptive daydreaming, insecure reader & negative perceptions of self, depictions of injury & violence, kidnapping, miscommunication, SMUT (inappropriate fantasizing, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics if you squint)

imploding the mirage — the killers

i had to do it, i had no other choice you’ve got to listen to the inside voice a bullet train will get you there fast but it won’t guarantee a long last sometimes it takes a little bit of courage and doubt to push your boundaries out beyond your imagining

He was the moon, and she was the stars.

It was serendipitous, how the couple had come to fall in love throughout the course of their divine adventures alongside each other—two servants to a pair of primordial Egyptian deities, serving as Avatars to protect those who could not protect themselves. She’d met him at a meeting of the Ennead, when he’d been called upon to answer for his actions against a human named Arthur Harrow, who was accused of attempting to raise Ammit from eternal isolation.

The trial hadn’t gone well, and certainly hadn’t worked in his favor, but her goddess protector had a soft spot for Khonshu, the God of the Moon—after all, he was the reason she had been given five extra days with which to bear her five children.

So her Avatar was secretly assigned to keep watch over the Moon Knight, to aid in his fight to keep Ammit contained and offer her services should he need them.

He was resistant at first, but Khonshu insisted that having Nut as an ally could only serve to benefit them in their journey—after all, she was the sky, and without her, the Moon could not rise.

Marc Spector and his alters didn't anticipate becoming so infatuated with the soft curve of her Avatar’s smile or the cosmos she seemed to hold within her eyes. But as time passed, they grew closer, and when she saved him again and again, the navy blue of her armor shimmering with glowing silver emblems of stars, he felt as if his soul was tethered to her. It seemed to be fate, as clear as a constellation, that their lives were somehow intertwined and their happenstance meeting was actually the result of some unseen gravitational pull, guiding them through the darkness until they found solace in one another.

He heard her sandal-clad feet softly hit the solid ground, her body drifting down from the sky to land beside him after her short flight in the air. He turned to look at her—the flowing robes of her ceremonial armor billowed in the evening breeze, her hair pulled back intricately with thin glittering bands of silver, adorned with five-pointed stars that captured the moonlight in her curls. She was ethereal, heavenly, celestial, and when she turned and smiled at him, he swore the planets aligned in some brief moment of rapture.

“Where to next, Moon Boy?”

She teased lightly, her nose crinkling with amusement. His hands twitched at his sides, unable to control the movement of his arm as it reached for her hand.

He heard Khonshu chuckle deeply from somewhere behind him, condescending and slightly mocking. Still, he always spoke kinder about the woman beside him than any other being on this Earth.

“I should’ve known you would become enamored with the little star. Nut always finds a way to reunite the beings of the night sky.”

Marc ignored him—he was too enthralled by the way her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of his fingers brushing her own, the hood and mask of his armor receding to reveal the tenderness of his gaze. He turned to face her, his other gloved hand reaching to cradle the side of her jaw. He watched as her gaze flickered down to his lips, and he smiled.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

He leaned forward to capture her lips with his own, swallowing her contented sigh as she melted into his touch—

“Jesus Christ!”

You nearly toppled forward when Marc abruptly yanked his arm away from you, his face contorted into a look of pain. You blinked once, then twice, eyes clearing to focus in on the blood staining your hands and the curved needle that was pinched tightly between your forefinger and thumb.

“The fuck was that? Are you even paying attention to what you’re doing?”

Marc hissed at you, cradling his injured forearm to his chest, gritting his teeth as your eyes widened in realization.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, Marc, I zoned out, here, just let me see—”

“Forget it, I’ll just do it myself.”

He snatched the suture from your hand and laid his arm back on the marbled countertop of your bathroom sink, giving you a clear view of the mistake you’d made—you’d laid the stitch nearly a full inch from where the edge of the gaping incision had started, sinking it into completely uninjured, healthy skin.

“Marc, stop, I’ll do it.”

You stopped him before he could hurt himself even more—he never had the patience to treat his wounds properly, but for ones that were this deep, it was smarter to close them by hand than wait several hours for his magical suit to heal it on its own.

He grunted in protest, but nonetheless allowed you to retrieve the needle from his hold and lean over his arm, tongue pinched between your teeth in concentration.

You were much more careful, this time, deliberate with each pull of the thread beneath his skin, finishing sewing shut the injury quickly. When you’d finally finished, you leaned forward to bite the end of the stitch and tear it away with your teeth. You reached for a piece of gauze, pouring a generous amount of saline solution onto the cloth in order to blot the excess blood from his skin.

You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, burning into your skull as if he was trying to read your mind. You sulked.

“I said I was sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your words were soft, and he could hear the guilt that was churning in your stomach. He didn’t flinch when you began dabbing at the drying blood around the wound.

“S’fine. But—what happened? It’s like—you just tapped out for a second, there. Did you even hear what I was saying to you?”

You frowned.

“No, I’m sorry. I just—got lost in thought.”

“Hell of a time for that to happen.”

He chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you didn’t laugh. Your eyes were still fixed on the skin of his arm, even though you’d successfully wiped away most of the remaining blood.

“I was just saying that—that I appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me.”

Your eyes darted to his face, surprised at the vulnerability he was displaying by expressing his gratitude.

“I mean—I never figured that when I’d stumbled onto your balcony all those months ago, beaten to all hell, that I’d meet someone who was willing to patch me up over and over again. Well—at least, before you stabbed me with a needle.”

Your eyes fell again, cheeks reddening at his jab. But he just laughed warmly, lifting his arm to rest his hand on your shoulder. Your bristled beneath his fingers, although his touch was nothing more than a friendly expression of appreciation.

“I’m just teasing you. But either way—just wanted to say thanks. Steven told me that I don’t say it enough, so...”

Now you laughed. It was more of a scoff, really, accompanied by the roll of your eyes as you reached for the knobs on the faucet, rinsing the blood from your fingers.

“Of course Steven made you.”

A lopsided grin found its way onto his face, and when you looked at him again, there was a twinkle in his eye. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you gazed at him—ebony curls spilling messily against his forehead, his lips quirked upwards at the corners, the fondness that was lingering beneath his brown irises. Was it possible? Could he really care about you the way you cared for him?

You turned away, standing and exiting the bathroom quickly before you could make a fool of yourself, face heating up at your own naïveté. Of course he didn’t feel that way about you. You were just—you. Only in the sanctuary of your imagination would he ever look at you and see anything beyond just a nurse playmate, or even maybe a friend.

You heard his heavy footsteps follow you back into your flat, where you wandered into the kitchen and retrieved a couple glasses.

“Do you mind if I—”

“Spare bed’s already made, I washed the sheets since last time you bled all over them and didn’t even tell me.”

You turned on the tap to fill the two cups with water. You were certain Marc hadn’t remembered to drink anything since his most recent escapade as a masked vigilante, and being around him always tended to make your mouth run dry.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You slid the glass of water across the countertop towards him, leaning back against the kitchen island to sip at your own. You watched him above the rim of your glass—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a large swig of the cool liquid, the way a stray droplet of water dribbled down his chin when he pulled the glass back, the way his hand came to wipe it away, the plush of his bottom lip supple beneath the swipe of his fingers.

She fell back against the mattress, breath temporarily stolen from her lungs as she felt the heat of his lips hungrily mouthing at any exposed skin it could reach—her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. A soft whine fell from her mouth and Marc swiftly lifted himself back to her face to swallow the sound, tongue sinking into her mouth to taste her.

Her fingers clawed at the fabric of his t-shirt, twisting and yanking him impossibly closer, legs lifting to wrap around his waist to press the heat of her core against the growing tent in his pants. A low groan escaped his chest as he rutted against her, pulling back to take stock of the hazy fog of lust that clouded her eyes and the O-shape of her lips as she let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, Marc.”

She whispered, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulderblades.

“Want you—need you so bad.”

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked once, then twice, finding Marc's dark gaze staring straight at you as his voice pulled you back to reality. Your brows lifted in horror when you realized you’d shamelessly been ogling at him, too engrossed in your thoughts to notice how long you’d been standing there.

“Shit, I—sorry.”

You rubbed at your eyes with your fingers, hoping that maybe if you pressed hard enough, the image of Marc’s body hovering above you would erase itself from your mind. It didn’t work.

You heard the clank of his now-empty glass as he set it down on the granite countertop, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You should be used to the rush of heat to your face by now—just being in Marc’s company caused you to blush uncontrollably, but still, the discomfort of your ruddy cheeks made your pulse quicken. Your gaze flickered down to your feet, eyes meeting the stupid fucking bunny slippers that you wore to accompany your fleece pajama bottoms. Fucking embarrassing.

“It’s nothing, Marc.”

You whispered quietly in response, although nausea was beginning to settle in the pit of your stomach. You were out of control—this man was driving you insane.

He studied you for a moment longer, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but when you didn’t look back up at him, he just sighed.

“Okay. I’ll just—leave you alone, then. Goodnight.”

There were tears pricking the back of your eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, to come share your bed instead of the one in your guest room, to kiss his stupidly handsome face.

“Towels are folded in the bathroom for you, and there’s clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change.”

You said instead, turning to refill your glass of water in the sink behind you. If he heard you, he didn’t respond—you listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall before the door to the guest bedroom creaked shut with a quiet click. Your shoulders immediately slumped forward, eyes squeezed shut tightly in an effort to combat the desperate urge to break down.

Her eyes were full of detestation as she glared down at him, nostrils flared with rage. He wanted to shrink beneath her disapproval.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

The woman started, and in spite of her towering figure looking down at him, he couldn’t help but gawk at the way the moonlight framed her, her silhouette outlined by the subtle glow of the night sky behind her. She offered him a hand and he took it, allowing her to yank him to his feet without an ounce of gentleness.

“You’re lucky I was here, Lockley, or things would’ve ended differently.”

She hissed, dusting herself off as if to showcase the strenuous effort she had put into saving his ass. He scowled behind his mask, the blood from the wound on his forearm beginning to soak through the bandages of his suit, tingeing the cream-colored fabric a dark crimson.

“I don’t need your help, estrellita. I was handling it.”

She scoffed as he turned on his heel to stomp away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Yeah, sure looked like you were handling it—why didn’t you call me? Nut had to drag me out of bed so you didn’t get yourself killed. Didn’t the old bird tell you we were together on this?”

He scowled, eyes narrowed in contempt.

“Yeah, he did, and I said no. We are not partners. We’re hardly even friends.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, the way her face fell and her brows creased causing a pang of guilt to stab through his already-sore chest. He sighed.

“Estrellita, I didn’t mean—”

“Why do you push me away?”

She interrupted, and Jake was taken aback by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“You need me, Jake. We need each other. I’m just—I just want to help you, why won’t you let me help you?”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her as her eyes flooded with tears. At his silence, she shook her head, turning away to stare up into the star-filled sky.

“We’re supposed to be a team, Moon Knight. The stars and the moon—you can’t have one without the other.”

He could see the reflection of the crescent-shaped moon in her glassy eyes, the soft glow painting her face with silvery beams of light.

You’d left the balcony door wide open—your routine was fairly habitual, now. A mug of warm tea was cradled in your fingers as you curled up in the wicker chair, eyes flitting across the scattered stars that were visible from your tiny apartment complex.

You watched him sit down beside you in your periphery, the movement to your left pulling you from your reverie. He reached for the glass of bourbon you'd set out on the table in front of him.

You sat in silence for awhile, finding comfort in the man’s quiet presence. You liked that about Jake—you never felt like you had to fill the air with meaningless conversation. He was perfectly content to just enjoy your company, the same as you enjoyed his.

You heard the ice in his glass clink against the side as he took a sip.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Neither of you looked at each other when he spoke—the question was spoken out into the world, not really directed towards you, although you knew what he meant.

Jake was too fucking perceptive for his own good. Even when he was silent, he was always there, watching, listening, observing—even if the other alters were oblivious to the yearning that was thinly veiled within your eyes, he certainly wasn’t. You sighed.

“No.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but something about his lack of verbal response bothered you, itching at the back of your brain. You turned to scowl at him.

“What?”

Jake hardly spared you a glance, barely quirking a brow at your emotionally-charged reaction as he shook his head.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

You glared, fingers anxiously tapping at the rim of your mug. The contours of Jake’s face were sharp in the dim light of the moon, features accentuated by the shadows. He finally turned to look at you.

“You know what I think, nena. You’re only hurting yourself. And your constant...daydreaming. It’s not as subtle as it once was. You—You should talk to them. Or me.”

The last bit of his proposal caught you off guard. His eyes had already drifted elsewhere when he said it, staring into his half-empty glass of liquor, but your brows lifted in surprise.

“I—you?”

He glowered playfully.

“Don’t sound so surprised, nena. I always listen to you.”

That was true. Some of your fondest memories with Jake were of late nights spent out on your balcony, getting drunk on cheap wine and sharing stories.

“Yeah, you’re good at listening, but not so much the talking part.”

Jake shrugged, although he nodded in understanding. He was all too aware of his own weaknesses.

You took a sip of your chamomile tea, letting its warmth combat the chill of the evening air.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

You asked quietly, and even without elaborating, Jake knew what you were referring to. He sighed, tossing back the last of his bourbon before setting it on the small table between you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve told you before. It’s not my place. I know what they think, but not what they feel.”

You huffed quietly, although deep down, you knew he was right. It wasn’t his place to share how Marc or Steven felt about you. You sort of admired the way he was so strict in his moral obligations—especially considering the lengths you were willing to go in order to change his mind.

Jake stiffened when he felt your hand rest on his bicep, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing lightly.

“But what about how you feel?”

His jaw rippled, and you felt the muscle beneath your fingers tense at your coy words. You could feel the restraint within him as he sat up abruptly, pulling away so his arm fell from your grasp. He still didn’t look at you.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, nena. Not until you talk to Marc. He—you were his first. I’m not going jeopardize your relationship with him until he knows the truth.”

Anger flared within you.

“I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone. My choices are my own.”

Jake flinched, eyes softening as they flickered over to you.

“You’re right, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—you have to understand. He—I can’t go behind his back like this. Yo no sería capaz de vivir conmigo mismo.”

“But you can’t even tell me if he feels the same way?”

You asked, and he could hear the pain in your voice as your tone wavered slightly. You’d had this conversation many times before, but things had been escalating recently—perhaps because it was getting increasingly difficult for you to be content in the reality you lived in.

Jake’s eyes were full of sympathy as he regarded you.

“No, nena. I’m sorry.”

You turned away.

“But you need to tell him. And Steven, too. They deserve to know. And so do you.”

You heard his weight shift as he stood to head back to bed, having spent too much time keeping the body awake—he didn’t want his alters to grow suspicious at the exhaustion when they woke in the morning.

“What if he breaks my heart?”

He paused in the threshold on the doorway, glancing back at you when he heard the thickness in your throat as your eyes welled with tears.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jake pursed his lips, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he pondered his response. Finally, he released a long sigh.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, nena. He’d be crazy not to.”

The smell of cinnamon wafted down the hallway as Steven rose from his slumber. There was a gentle melody floating in the air as he pulled himself from the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his bare feet padding along the tiled floor towards the source of the noise.

She was singing quietly to herself, back towards him as she chopped the fresh strawberries into fourths. He couldn’t help but smile at the domesticity of it all—the woman he loved, that he fought beside, making breakfast for them to share. His heart felt whole.

He sidled up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and his body pressing flush against her back. He placed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck, her hair pulled up in a sloppy updo.

“G’mornin’, darling.”

He hummed sleepily, and he felt her chest rumble with an airy giggle as she leaned into his touch.

“Hi, handsome. Sleep okay?”

He reached over her shoulder to steal a strawberry from the cutting board, taking a bite of the succulent fruit before offering the other half to her by pressing it to her lips. She smiled and happily accepted his offering.

“Would’ve slept even better if I’d woken up to your face beside me.”

She threw her head back, leaning against his chest as she laughed brightly—his favorite sound.

“Oh, boohoo. Sorry for getting up early to make you breakfast.”

She teased, and Steven pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her coconut shampoo enticing him. His arms reached to rest on the countertop to either side of her, successfully caging her in. He heard her breath hitch as the movement of the knife in her hand stalled, his body pressing up more firmly against her—enough so that she could feel the hardness of his manhood against the flesh of her ass.

“The strawberries are sweet, darling, but I’d rather have something even sweeter for breakfast this mornin’, yeah?”

“G’mornin’, darling.”

The knife fumbled in your grasp and the blade slipped across your fingers, slicing a divot in the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

“Steven! Shit!”

You immediately dropped the knife and rushed towards the sink, rinsing your wound under the cold water to inspect the damage and dilute the blood.

“Oh, Gods, m’so sorry, love—are you alright?”

You could feel his body creeping up behind you, an arm reaching around to grab yours in an attempt to investigate the source of your discomfort. The warmth of his presence against your back startled you, a fierce blush rising to your cheeks as you reached for a towel and sidestepped, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“It’s—I’m fine. It’s just a tiny cut, it’s no big deal.”

You brushed it off, although your palm was beginning to throb. You pulled the washcloth away from the afflicted area, finding it soaked with a generous amount of your blood.

“Looks like it hurts. Can I—may I help you with it?”

There was trepidation in his big brown eyes, obviously put off by the hastiness with which you’d pulled away from him. You surrendered yourself, offering a sigh and a slow nod.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You found yourself in a similar position to the previous night, although this time, the roles were reversed—and your wound was from an unfortunate kitchen incident, not a scuffle with a group of evil antique smugglers.

Steven’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he secured a piece of gauze on the injury with medical tape, winding it around your palm so it fit snugly against the area. His hands were nimble and his touch was painfully gentle, the pads of his fingers just barely skimming over your skin in an effort to prevent you from more discomfort. A chill crept up your spine at the close proximity.

He looked rather satisfied with himself when he’d finished, shoving the medical supplies back into the bin beneath your sink that you had specially packed for him.

“There we are—good as new.”

He smiled cheerily at you, and it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Your mind briefly darted back to your conversation with Jake the night before; then the unholy thoughts you’d been having this morning when Steven had snuck up on you. Gods, you really were getting out of control...

Steven led you from the bathroom and you returned to your post, rinsing the knife and the sliced strawberries to ensure they weren’t contaminated. You stepped over to the stove to check the steel-cut oatmeal that had been simmering—Steven’s favorite. You gave it a few good stirs before deciding that it was finished, filling up two bowls with generous servings and sprinkling the top with strawberries, brown sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. Steven was already seated at you breakfast bar when you turned to offer him his meal.

“Bon apétit.”

You flourished playfully, passing the bowl in front of him as you seated yourself on the stool across the way. His eyes crinkled with appreciation when he smiled.

“Oh, it smells bloody lovely. Thank you, darling.”

He always called you that, you rationalized. It was nothing more than a term of endearment—a friendly pet name.

You ate in silence for awhile, save for the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain and the birds chirping from your open window. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him as he slipped a strawberry past his lips, something reminiscent of a moan escaping him as he savored the flavor of the fruit. Your face flushed bright red.

“Yes, darling—just like that, please.”

He was whimpering beneath her, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at her from where she straddled him, sliding her naked and exposed core over his boxer-clad erection.

“You wanna be inside me, Steven?”

She cooed, leaning forward to kiss along his stubbled jawline, and he moaned wantonly, hips rutting up against her.

“Gods, yes, love, please, I can’t—”

“S’there somethin’ on my face?”

Panic flooded you at the bewildered expression on Steven’s face, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth in case you'd been gawking at some remnants of food on the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, eyes wide and cheeks already turning pink.

“I—No, no, there’s not, I—sorry. I was just—just thinking.”

He gave you a brief scrutinizing look before shrugging and diving back into the remainder of his oatmeal.

“What were you thinkin’ about?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Oh, it’s—nothing, really. Sometimes I just—space out, I guess.”

You offered sheepishly, toying with the last few bites of your food with your spoon—your appetite was suddenly gone.

“You seem to do that a lot, yeah? S’everything alright?”

“Yes.”

You answered him a bit too quickly, hastily jumping to end the conversation before it even began. His brows furrowed, watching as you quickly grabbed both bowls to busy yourself with cleaning up.

He wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer—in fact, it only served to startle him more. He watched you carefully as you began to viciously scrub at the blue porcelain bowls with a sponge.

“Are you...sure? I’m just—you’re worryin’ me a bit, yeah? And with last night, with Marc—if somethin’s the matter, you know you can always talk to us, ‘lright?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take in a slow, careful breath in an effort to soothe your frazzled nerves.

“Yeah, I know, Steven—thank you. But—but everything’s just fine, really.”

She’s lying.

Steven was surprised to hear Jake’s voice echo from the back of the headspace—it wasn’t often that he offered internal commentary to any conversations outside of when he was fronting.

And how do you know that?

Marc quipped back in his mind—Steven hated when they argued in the headspace, especially when he was the one in control of the body. His brain felt too full and it was easy for him to get overstimulated.

What—you think she’s telling the truth, jefe?

Marc didn’t respond, and Steven was silently grateful that their quarrel had ended quickly. Still, he knew his alters were correct—you definitely weren’t ‘just fine.’

But the last thing he wanted to do was push you away, especially since it already felt like you were putting up a wall between you, keeping him at arm’s length.

He let out a long sigh, standing up from the bar to get ready to depart for his shift at the museum.

“Well, thank you for brekky, love, and for—everything else.”

You startled when you turned, finding him standing directly behind you, pulling you into his warm embrace without any due warning. God, why was he so fucking sweet? Guilt gnawed away are your insides—Jake was right. He really did deserve to know the truth, why you were spending more time living in your fantasyland than grounded in reality—but surely it’d scare him off. Marc, too.

Perhaps it was just better to keep imagining what it would be like to be loved by them—at least without being outright rejected, there would always be that small sliver of hope gleaming in the back of your mind, that tiny semblance of ‘what if’ that you let linger.

You melted into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder.

“Anytime, Steven, really. It’s my pleasure.”

There was always a smile on her face when they departed—even if their time away from each other was difficult, she knew she could look forward to the next time they'd see each other. The way his big brown eyes would light up with elation when he saw her, like an overexcited puppy reuniting with its owner.

The grin remained on her face, still, after he’d kissed her goodbye and they parted ways. She hummed softly to herself as she journeyed down the hallway to remake the bed and tidy up the room.

He never did remember to tuck in the blankets. She laughed quietly to herself and she entered the room, filled with the distinctive cypress scent of him. She reached to fluff the pillows—

Oh. That shouldn’t be there, should it?

Your fingers wrapped around the small white trinket, strung along on a leather braided band. You lifted it up to your face to inspect it more closely—it was an pendant carved from ivory, shaped like a cross with a loop at the top. An ankh—the key of life—you recalled, as Steven had once taught you. There was a certain texture that ran along the sides, and only when you brought the object right up to your nose were you able to see that there was a teeny tiny pattern etched into the surface. Hieroglyphics.

Shit, you realized. This looked like something that would be in the museum Steven worked at—although it looked a bit too high quality to be sold in the gift shop. Nonetheless, you realized that it must’ve slipped from his pocket while he was getting dressed. What if it was important?

You wandered back to the kitchen and tried calling his cell, once, then twice, without receiving an answer. He was probably already being berated by Donna—oh, well. The museum was on your way to work anyhow, just one bus stop before the café that you worked at. You could swing by and give it to him before your shift.

You glanced down at your phone to shoot him a quick text.

hey, you forgot something here i’ll drop it off for you in a bit x

It was only when you were strolling down the street with the pendant strung around your neck that a thrill of excitement ran up your spine.

What if this was from his latest mission?

It wasn’t something you’d considered before, but now that you thought about it, it seemed like the likeliest explanation. The boys didn’t tell you much about their escapades as the masked lunar vigilante, save for the vague explanations about the injuries they asked you to patch up—but you knew enough to be two-and-two together. This must be the ancient artifact he had been sent to retrieve on Khonshu’s behalf the previous night.

You suppressed a smile by sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, filled with giddiness. You were actually helping.

“Where is it?”

A venomous voice seethed, peering down at the crumpled form of the man at his feet. Marc was hunched over, arms chained behind his back, blood from his abdomen beginning to soak through the white fabric of his suit. His mouth tasted like copper, teeth coated in the sticky red substance as a gruff hand came to harshly grip his jaw, forcing his eyes upward. He sneered.

“I told you. I don’t know.”

Another punch collided with his face, this time connecting with the bridge of his nose and sending him careening backwards, landing against the concrete with a grunt.

“You’re full of shit. We know it was you at the burial site, Spector. We have eyewitnesses. You’re the only person in the world who could have possibly taken it.”

To the man's utter surprise, Marc Spector began to laugh. It was a wet sound, his mask receding so he could spit out a wad of crimson-tinted bile as he chuckled wolfishly, his lips curling up into a snarl. The perpetrator felt fear shoot through him at the look on his face.

“You’re wrong, actually. See, I was there.”

He clarified, eyes glinting dangerously. His attacker stumbled backwards as a harsh silver light blinded him briefly, and when his vision cleared, the Moon Knight had risen to his feet, freed from his shackles.

“I just wasn’t alone.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he slowly turned around, met face to face with intense glare of a woman, her eyes still glowing with residual power. She tilted her head at him condescendingly, before lifting her right hand—the white ankh charm was dangling from her fingertips as she smiled coyly up at him.

“Looking for this?”

She cooed, smirking innocently, and before the man could even blink, she had pounced, wrestling him to the floor and pressing his face down against the cold flooring, cheek smushed against the pavement. She straddled his back, using her weight to hold him still while her fingers made a curling motion in the air—a rope of pure silvery light materialized with the sweep of her hand, binding the man’s hands behind his back with tendrils of starlight.

Her partner was dealing with the other two lackeys, one already laid out on the ground and the other lifted in the air by his neck, one of Marc’s gloved hands raising him up with his fingers pressing beneath his jaw.

When he stopped resisting, Marc let his body collapse to the floor in a heap before he turned back to face the woman, whose chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths. Even after a fight, she somehow appeared graceful and collected—she reached upward and pulled a stray hair from her eyes, tucking it back into it’s place beneath her star-laden headdress. Their eyes met briefly.

“Thanks.”

Marc swallowed, his head bowed low in embarrassment. He waited for the jab to come—‘I told you so.’ He deserved it, really. It was stupid to come in alone.

Instead, he was startled when she approached him softly, her eyes glittering as she lifted her hand to gently brush over his cheekbone, her smile gentle and kind.

“I’ll always have your back. You know that, right?”

He looked away, ridden with guilt and remorse, but she urged his eyes back to her with the nudge of her fingers.

“Marc. I mean it.”

He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes as he sniffed, trying to play off his emotions with fabricated nonchalance.

“Yeah, I know.”

She nodded once, withdrawing her hand from his face before lifting the ancient artifact up to his face, waving it for emphasis.

“We should probably get this to the old bird, then, huh?”

Her head snapped to the side at the gust of wind that abruptly passed them, her eyes trailing up the heavenly form of the aforementioned deity, the slope of his ivory beak towering above her. She swallowed—she’d never actually seen him before, only heard of him in passing from his Avatar. Khonshu.

Time seemed to freeze, briefly, as her breath slowly made its way back to her lungs. The skeletal bird tilted his domineering skull downward, staring her down with intensity.

“Wake up, little star.”

Her brows furrowed, her jaw dropping to reply, but he interrupted.

“You are not a part of this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Her head started to swim, the image in front of her turning hazy as her vision began to blur. She blinked profusely. This isn’t a part of the script, this isn’t supposed to happen—

“Wake up!”

With a jolt, you were pulled from your daydream—just in time for a hand to slip over your mouth to muffle your scream before everything went dark.

When your eyes blinked open, heavy with exhaustion, you were staring up at the white ceiling of your bedroom. You made a move to sit up, but the movement caused a throbbing pain to bloom in the back of your skull, forcing you back down against the pillows as a groan of discomfort fell from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to regain your bearings, when a set of heavy footsteps grabbed your attention from the hallway.

He faltered in the doorway when he made eye contact with you, his dark brows furrowed heavily with concern, dark purple bags settled beneath his lower lashes. When his initial shock wore off, his jaw set as he approached you slowly, a glass of tap water clutched in his left hand. He perched carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful not the nudge you.

“Marc?”

You croaked, your throat hoarse and dry, and he wordlessly reached forward, propping you further up onto the pillows before lifting the glass to your lips.

“Drink.”

He said sternly, pressing the rim to your mouth, and you obliged blindly, letting him tip the contents of the cup back into your mouth as you took slow, tentative sips. When he was satisfied with your water intake, he pulled the glass away and set it on the bedside table, the movement punctuated by a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him carefully, brows knit together in confusion.

“I—what happened?”

You asked slowly, sitting yourself upward just a bit more. The pain in your head was lessening, although their was still a dull ache lingering at the back of your neck. You could see his jaw ripple again as he clenched his teeth, his body facing the door and his eyes focused on the wall across from him. You studied his profile carefully before he ran a tired hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

“What do you remember?”

He prompted, and you hesitated, thinking back on the last thing you recalled. You remembered leaving for work, and finding the little white pendant you were planning on returning—and you remember getting lost in another fantasy before a hand clamped around your mouth and—

“Was I kidnapped?”

You asked incredulously, eyes blowing wide with realization as you recalled the sensation of a strong grasp around your face and neck before your fell unconscious. You watched his lip twitch with frustration.

“No. Well—yes. But you, I mean—what the fuck were you thinking?”

He finally turned to look at you, and when he did, you immediately wanted to shrink away and evaporate. His eyes were fiery, burning red hot with fury, the disapproving expression on his face striking something deep in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

You asked quietly, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes, and Marc stood up, running a hand through his unruly curls as he took in a deep breath, obviously attempting to maintain some semblance of composure.

“You almost got yourself killed—bringing that charm with you, parading it around like a trophy.”

“I didn’t know, Marc, I just—”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you get wrapped up in all of this—fuck, if I hadn’t been there...”

His back was towards you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, his body heaving with heavy panting breaths. You felt small, like a child being reprimanded. You felt your eyes flood with tears.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

His voice was firm and harsh as he snapped over his shoulder at you, glaring.

“You can’t help. You’re not a part of this.”

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, desperation clawing inside of you as you threw back the blankets, swinging your legs off the side of the mattress so you could approach him.

“But maybe I can, Marc, if you’d just give me a chance, if you’d let me—”

“Stop!”

He whipped around to face you, voice louder than you'd ever heard it before. He was yelling, towering over you as he snarled, fuming.

“Just stop. If you keep this up, you’re gonna get yourself and a lot of other people hurt. You’re not a fucking Avatar—”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Marc flinched when you matched his intensity, the tears falling down your cheeks a stark contrast from the sheer anger that dominated your expression.

“You don’t think I realize that? Or think about it every goddamn night when I have to sit here, alone, wondering if you’re gonna show up, or if you’re somewhere dead and I can’t do anything but wait.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to swallow your tears down as you broke down in front of the man, your internal conflict reaching a boiling point and spewing out of you without warning.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could be out there with you, doing something, helping, anything—how often I imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t fucking useless, if I was actually a part of—”

“What did you just say?”

Your eyes snapped open, and your anger faltered when you saw the look of pure horror on Marc’s face, his skin looking several shades paler than it had before. Your mind was reeling, trying to look back on what you said, what your mistake had been, but he quickly clarified for you.

“Did you just—are you saying you wish you were an Avatar?”

His body was rigid, his expression suddenly stony and impenetrable as he looked down at you, offering a barely perceptible shake of his head as he grimaced.

“How could you—how could you possibly want that? Why would you ever—”

You could see his eyes turn glassy as he turned away, his chest beginning to heave again as he ran both of his hands through his hair anxiously, his gaze suddenly appearing frenzied. His words were laced with something adjacent to betrayal.

“You have no idea what—what I wouldn’t give to go back to my life before all of this, to—to not carry this weight, to not—I fucking kill people, do you not understand that? I’m a monster, because my life is fucking controlled by a monster, and you wish you were like me? You wanna suffer like this?”

“At least we’d be suffering together.”

It was barely more than a whisper, your addition, but Marc caught it. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore—you turned and sat back on the bed, folding your hands in your lap and staring down at your fingers as your heart finally poured out of your chest.

“I don’t know what else I could do, Marc. I don’t know any other way to get you to actually see me.”

“See you?”

He asked incredulously, face marred with confusion, and your lip quivered as you looked anywhere but at him, awaiting his rejection as you spoke.

“I just—all I’ve ever wanted was to be able to help you. To—for you to trust me, for you to—to care about me, and—and the only scenario I can actually imagine you wanting me is if I’m not myself, I’m a version of myself that’s actually strong and capable and—”

You stifled a sob, your face scrunching up as your arms wrapped around yourself in a protective stance, huddling inward as you cried.

“—I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but I just—I want to be more than I am because—because I want to matter to you, Marc, but I know that won’t happen because I’m just—I’m just me.”

Marc fell silent. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you squeezed your bleary eyes shut, forcing yourself to take slow, deliberate inhales despite your desire to hyperventilate. You felt like the room was closing in on you, the walls shrinking and shrinking and you wished the space would swallow you whole.

“What have I done to ever make you think you don’t matter to me?”

His voice was soft and quiet, and when you blinked your tear-filled eyes open, he was staring at you, a look of genuine hurt on his chiseled features. You stuttered.

“I—what?”

“I—”

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“Why would you ever think that I don’t care about you? That you have to—to be someone else for that to happen?”

He sounded broken, his big brown eyes wide and imploring, and the sight made your chest feel tight. You pressed the butts of your palms into your eyes.

“I don’t know, Marc. You’re—you’re a fuckin’ superpowered badass who was chosen by an ancient Egyptian god to beat up monsters and go on these epic missions, and—and how can I even compete with that? I don’t even understand why you waste your time with me.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?”

You startled when he took a few hulking steps towards you, his brows creasing in a look of frustration.

“If you’re so convinced that I’m some superior being to you—which I’m not—then rationalize that, for me. Why would I keep coming back if I didn’t care about you?”

Confusion flashed across your face as you contemplated his question.

“Because—because I patch you up when you get hurt, and I—and I take care of you. You only come here when you need something—”

“But that’s not true.”

He insisted, sounding exasperated with your obstinance.

“I have a magic suit of armor that heals me, I don’t even need you to stitch me back together—”

“But you told me—”

“Well, I lied.”

He snapped, his arms crossing over his chest, and you felt a foreign feeling flutter in the pit of your stomach as his hands came up to rub at his jaw—a nervous habit.

“It was an excuse, and honestly, not even a very convincing one. An excuse to see you.”

Your head was starting to pound again, a dull ache blooming behind your eyes as your mind continued to reel. It didn’t make any sense.

“But you—you never needed an excuse. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Marc—for all three of you.”

“I know.”

He nodded sadly, his face pained as he flinched at your words.

“And that’s what’s so bad about all of this. I shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t feel that way about me. I’m—it’s dangerous. I’ve been trying so hard to push you away because if something happens to you, if you get hurt—that’s on me. And I don’t know what I’d do with myself if—”

“I’m a big girl, Marc.”

You defended, and he seemed impressed with the conviction of your tone.

“You’ve never been anything but honest about the kind of life you live, the kind of things you do—if that scared me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. I made that choice for myself.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, his lips parting to scold you or deny your claims, but there was resolve in his eyes. You watched as he slowly walked towards the bed, slumping into a seated position beside you, utterly defeated.

“I know.”

It was difficult for you to focus with the proximity of your bodies. He’d left a generous gap between the two of you, but his legs were spread wide as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and your legs were almost touching. It was unbearable.

“I always thought you were taking advantage of me.”

You spoke smally, a bit ashamed and hesitant to admit the truth, and you saw Marc’s shoulders tense before he hung his head low, a deep sigh coming from his chest.

“Yeah. Jake told me that you might be feeling that way.”

Your eyes darted to his face, taken completely by surprise.

“He—he did?”

Marc chuckled ruefully, scoffing a bit at his alter.

“And I never fuckin’ listened. Told me I needed to come clean—be honest about how I feel, or else I’ll just keep hurting you more—”

“I didn’t realize he’d actually tried to talk to you about it.”

Marc’s brows furrowed.

“Wait, are you—did you tell him that?”

You blushed, feeling somewhat guilty as you nodded. You weren’t proud of the fact that you’d been talking about Marc and Steven behind their backs to their other alter.

“Why did—why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Marc leaned towards you, trying to catch your gaze with his, but you quickly looked forward again, eyes focusing in on your shaky hands.

“I didn’t know if—I never had to question things with Jake. He’s never been shy about how he feels about me.”

“Jake’s never been shy about anything in his entire goddamn life.”

You actually giggled at that, Marc’s tone sour and somewhat envious, but a soft smile easily curled on his lips at the sound of your laughter. When your amusement faded slightly, your breath caught in your throat when you felt a warm hand fall atop your knee, thumb rubbing over the flesh gently. You stared at the place where his skin met yours, heat flushing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I would’ve known sooner—if he’d have told me—”

You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology.

“No, don’t. I made him promise me he wouldn’t tell you. And—and the reason I didn’t say anything is, well—he would never tell me if you felt the same, so I didn’t—I just kind of assumed you didn’t.”

“I don’t understand why you think so little of yourself.”

His fingers gripped your knee a bit more firmly, the heat of his hand traveling upwards despite your attempts to stop it.

“You really think—thought the only way I’d want you is if you were an Avatar?”

You laughed wetly, swiping the last of your tears from beneath your eyes as you shook your head abashedly.

“When you say it out loud, it sounds so fucking stupid.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid.”

He corrected, and you froze when you felt his hand lift from your knee to reach towards your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could see you more clearly. His fingers slipped beneath your jaw and gently coaxed your head to face him. You forgot how to breathe.

“It’s just not true.”

“Baby, I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, Avatar or not.”

She let out a quiet gasp at his confession, face lighting up with delight as he surged forward and captured her lips with his own, whimpering against her mouth as his arms encircled her body. He guided her back towards the bed, laying her out beneath him, looking absolutely heavenly, truly ravishing, and the sight made him ravenous as he worshipped her, starting by dragging his tongue—

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

It was only a brief moment of wistfulness, your daydream, but Marc saw the way your eyes misted and filled with a faraway look. He let his fingers dance across the softness of your neck before reaching to cradle your jaw in his hand, fingers threading into the hair behind your left ear.

You blinked away your reverie, trying to ground yourself in the present regardless of how desperately you wanted to fantasize about how much you craved him, how much you just wished he wanted you—

“Sorry.”

You uttered, voice barely above a whisper, and you blinked up at him through your wet lashes, doe-eyed. Your shame quickly melted away into something entirely different when you saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his lips.

“What were you thinking about?”

Your breathing stuttered, and you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off quickly, the timbre of his voice low and gravelly.

“You can tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it was, whatever you want—I’ll give it to you.”

It all became too much too quickly—the swirling heat of desire coiling lowly in your abdomen, the warmth of his exhales across your face, the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your cheek, the almost taunting gleam in his dark eyes. His promise emboldened you, and without much thought, you surged forward and captured his lips in your own, whimpering against his mouth as your arms encircled his body.

He was quick to meet your pace, his free arm twisting to wrap around your lower back so he could pull you into his lap, one of your hands sinking into his brown curls and the other digging into his right shoulder. You heard him groan into your lips and you took the opportunity to sink your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss as you pressed your body flush against him, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible.

When his lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw and throat, you were pulled out of your stupor.

“Wait—wait.”

You whispered, fingers tugging at his curls so you could see his face. His brows furrowed in concern as he looked at you with worried eyes, his lips dewy and kiss-swollen.

“What’s wrong?”

He asked carefully, his voice gruff but still attentive, and you lifted both hands to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones as you drank in his features, studying his face carefully.

“I just—”

You let out a shaky exhale, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I need to know that this is real. That you’re—that this is all real.”

He pulled away from you slightly, grinning somewhat wolfishly at you.

“This is real, baby—does it feel real?”

You nodded eagerly, your lips still tingling from the severity of his kisses, and he pulled you in for another one, his touch deliciously bruising.

When he pulled away again, you felt his fingers trace down your arm before he grabbed your hand in his. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he guided your grasp between your bodies, but your hips jolted when he pressed your hand into the hardness of his bulge in his jeans. You whimpered at the feeling, fingers curling around his length to squeeze him. His lashes fluttered.

“Yeah, baby—you feel what you do to me? That’s fuckin’ real.”

You felt yourself grow increasingly desperate at his words, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt and yanking it over his head with abandon. He seemed in tune with your own neediness because pretty soon, clothes were being ripped off and haphazardly tossed around the room, lips meeting newly-exposed skin at every opportunity.

You were laid out beneath him, his body slotted between your parted legs as he hovered over you, pumping his cock languidly as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.

“I’ve pictured this, too, you know.”

You felt a small smile find your face.

“Really?”

He bit his lip, the pace of his hand jerking his length speeding up just slightly.

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby. You’re even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

His sweet compliment was a stark contrast to the depravity of the current situation, but you could hear the sincerity in his words. You smiled up at him, reaching forward to take his cock in your grasp and line him up with your awaiting entrance.

“And you’re even bigger than I ever imagined.”

You purred, watching his eyes flash with pride as he leaned forward to brush the tip of his cock through your sopping folds, causing you to mewl unsurepetitiously.

“Please, Marc, shit—I can’t wait anymore, please.”

He grinned wickedly down at you, and before you could even take a breath, he was plunging into you with force, his cock sheathing itself fully within the softness of your cunt.

He choked above you, his arm slamming down on the mattress beside your head for support, his fist curling into the sheets.

“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”

He breathed out, his expression almost pained with just how perfectly your walls were squeezing him.

The sudden intrusion was a startling sensation, but the burn of the stretch was quickly evolving into an addictive sting of pleasure.

“Oh, God, yes—move, Marc, please.”

You begged, brows furrowed deeply, and Marc quickly obliged, starting a rapid pace as he hammered into you, his hips snapping forward with jarring strength. The sound of slapping skin echoed within the room and only served to add to your arousal, the noises leaving your lips sinful and completely involuntary.

“Fuck yeah, baby—is this what you wanted? This what you’ve been daydreaming about, huh? My cock filling you up?”

You moaned wantonly, back arching at Marc’s words. His curls were falling across his forehead, dampened with sweat, and you reached up to grip his shoulders for support, fingernails digging into the carved muscle.

“Yes, fuck, yes—so good, Marc, so fucking good—”

He reached down and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you, the new angle earning a sharp cry. Your walls were fluttering around him.

“Yeah, you wanna cum, baby? You wanna cum on my cock?” He hand reached between your bodies to thumb at your clit, and the added stimulation sent you suddenly toppling over the edge into your orgasm, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan.

“Yeah, attagirl—fuck yeah.”

Your walls were clamping down on him, pulsing rhythmically over the ridges of his cock, and he felt his release rapidly approaching.

“You want my cum, baby?”

You nodded frantically at him, eyes wild with desperation, and Marc groaned as his pace began to stutter.

“Where, baby? Where do you want it?”

You fingers sank further into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Mouth—want you to cum in my mouth.”

Your request alone was enough to send him hurtling over the edge.

“Oh, shit, gonna cum—”

He pulled out of you quickly, hand reaching down to fervidly fist at his cock as he crawled forward to straddle your stomach on his knees—you eagerly leaned forward just in time as his balls drew up tight, his cum shooting straight across your awaiting tongue as you opened your mouth wide for him.

“Oh, baby—fuuuuckkk—”

His hips thrusted into his fist with each pump of cum that escaped him, some shooting above your lip and dribbling down your chin. He grunted harshly as he tapped the tip of his cock over your tongue, coating the head in his release that had pooled within your mouth. You quickly closed your lips around him and suckled the tip into your mouth, swallowing all of his seed as you swirled your tongue around his length.

He let out a low groan before he finally reached forward to tug you off of him, collapsing onto the mattress beside you heavily.

You both caught your breath for a few moments, coming back down to Earth after your intense climaxes.

It was Marc who broke the silence first, a deep chuckle coming from his chest.

“If this is what you’re constantly daydreaming about, then fuck—you gotta tell me. I will make every goddamned one come true.”

Your laughter matched his own as he reached over to wrap an arm around you, pulling you towards the warmth of his body comfortingly. Your smile quickly faded as the heat of the moment made way for reality.

“Was this—I mean, this wasn’t just—just a one-time thing... right?”

Marc pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering along your hairline.

“No, baby. Besides—Jake and Steven haven’t even gotten their turns with you.”

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

“That’s not what I mean.”

You said quietly, and Marc sighed, letting his head rest atop yours as he held you close.

“Sorry. I know what you meant, but still, the answer’s no. Kinda hoping this is an all-the-time thing.”

Now, you laughed, and he swore it was his favorite sound in the entire world.

You had a brief conversation with Steven about your mutual feelings, later—although he was a stuttering mess, his smile was wide and eyes were bright with elation when he finally kissed you. He fell asleep holding you close to him, and you listened to his breathing slow as you began to doze off beside him.

Just when you were about to fall asleep, his arms around you squeezed tighter.

“Told you so.”

Jake’s voice taunted jokingly, and you lifted a fist to punch his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckled, and you tilted your head so you could see his face—he looked relaxed, truly at ease, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

You admitted defeat, and Jake gave you a cheeky lopsided grin before he leaned down and gave you a soft, chaste kiss that left you breathless.

You rested your head back against his chest, but he interrupted your peace yet again.

“Can I ask you somethin, nena?”

You nodded.

“You told Marc you imagined being an Avatar. ’m just curious—what kind of things do you think about?”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, still feeling silly and insecure about admitting to your daydreaming habits, but Jake gently encouraged you enough until you relented, explaining how you’d always had an infatuation with the deity Nut and liked the poeticism of the pairing of the moon and the stars.

“And you called me estrellita.”

You informed shyly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, but you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, his muscles tensing just slightly.

“Estrellita?”

He questioned, and you lifted your head to look at him, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, it—it means ‘little star.’”

You explained, and he shook his head.

“I know that, but I—hmm.”

His lips pursed, and you nudged him, his confusion worrying you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before staring back up at the ceiling, his expression contemplative

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just—today, when Khonshu came to tell us that you were in trouble, he—he called you that. Little star.”

You bolted upright, the color quickly draining from your face.

“He fucking what?”

Jake shrugged uneasily, but you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest, recalling the bizarre intrusion Khonshu had made in your fantasy today, interrupting your own train of thought. Was that—actually him?

Little did you know, Khonshu had been eavesdropping on your daily mental escapes for some time, entertained by both your active imagination and the elaborate stories you seemed to conjure up on a whim. As a matter of fact, both he and Nut found great amusement in your investment in the life of the Egyptian deities, and should something happen to the Goddess of the Sky’s current Avatar—she knew exactly where to find her next candidate.

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ikarakie · 1 year

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what if they won? what if steve was trying to get the injured eddie out of the upside down as the gates were sewing themselves back up again? what if he knew that not everyone could get out safely, so he sends robin and nancy through. then he sends them eddie and hoists dustin after him and by the time everyone else is through, he knows there's no time.

dustin screams. he curses him out and sobs as the gate closes between them. steve promises it'll be fine, just take care of eddie, he'll be fine, but they both know he can't know that. robin looks so betrayed, so heartbroken, he can't bear to meet her eyes. just looks to the floor and tries to tune out their pleads until the gate's shut for good and he's all alone.

maybe he hadn't really thought it through. just figured his chances were better on this side than trying to squeeze through an actively closing gate and possibly being torn in half between worlds. decided that, out of all of them, he was the one who deserved to go back the least. they all had families that actually cared, that were waiting for them. they had each other, and soon enough they'd forget about him. it was all for the best.

but it still hurt. he still sat in the upside down version of eddie's trailer and wept. wished to tell dustin he loved him like a little brother, wished to kiss robin on her head one more time, wished to know if max was okay, wished that he and eddie could've become real, proper friends.

wished to know if there was something else eddie had wanted to tell him before they split off. if he'd misread things, especially after he'd pushed so hard for him and nancy to get back together. but none of that mattered anymore, because he was stuck here now.

after a few hours of crying and wallowing he gets his ass up and decides he's gonna at least try to survive for a while. he decides to stay in eddie's trailer. doesn't feel like he could make it to his own house, and doesn't even think he wants to. though he does trek to the nearest convenience store (and cries there, too, because he remembers bringing max and the kids here for snacks so many times). picks up whatever non-perishable food he can carry and then holes up.

he thinks of little will byers. cries some more, for him. so small, all alone in this place. how strong he was, how he was braver than steve ever would be, even at his young age. thinks he'd like to tell him that, if he ever could.

he's not sure how long passes. maybe days, maybe weeks. not like it's easy to tell how time goes down here. he would say he lost hope, but he never really had any hope to lose. he never intended for anyone to come and get him, made his peace with the fact he'd die here when he watched the ceiling gate close back up again. it's pathetic, how he mopes around and sits in a single spot for days on end. staring at the walls, not moving a muscle.

that's how she finds him. when he hears the door to the trailer jiggle, he just sort of thinks: ah, this is it. something's come for me. wonders if his parents will come to his funeral, if he even gets one.

it slams open. he doesn't even turn his head, doesn't want to know what it is that'll have him. just closes his eyes and waits, listens as it quietly comes towards him. crouches between his legs and- and takes his hands- what-

"steve." he opens his eyes and the floodgates start up again because it's el. her hair's buzzed again, which breaks his heart because he'd been the one to show her how to take care of it when she was growing it out. knew how proud she was of how long it'd gotten. but she's smiling so brightly, like she's won the lottery.

"el?" he asks, and he's shocked at how broken he sounds. "why are you here?"

"i have come to take you home." she says, rather matter of factly, leaving exactly zero room for argument. there's a fierce determination in her eyes, and she squeezes both of his hands.

but it's so dangerous here, he wants to say, you could've gotten hurt. why go through all of that for me?

and maybe she's been hiding mind reading powers from them, because she adds, "everyone misses you. i would have come sooner, but it took a while to get back to hawkins." then, she smiles. "i think they would have found a way even if i didn't, though."

it's like it all hits him at once. they've missed him. they've all been... looking for ways to come get him, this whole time. however long it's been. they didn't just forget about him like he wanted expected. the very idea suddenly seems so silly.

he takes a shaky breath. "well, in that case, let's not keep them waiting, yeah?" she smiles, big and happy, and nods.

part 2

#PART 2 EDDIE POV COMING SOON #stranger things #prompt #steve harrington #imagine #steddie #stranger things prompt #eddie munson #steddie prompt #steve and eddie #steddie fic #steddie hc #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington ficlet #steve and el

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tarjapearce · 8 months

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soccer family

how did miguel propose 👀💍

The serious questions yo ❤️✨

Hope you like 🥹✨

Time and life were funny. Sometimes funny in the good kind of way, sometimes in the oddest sorts. If someone would have told Miguel those three years ago, in that evening at Peter's carneada that he would meet his future wife, he'd surely would've just rolled his precious mahogany eyes at cuss in spanish at whoever speaking such nonsense.

He wasn't in the look for someone, yet there you were, his serendipity. Coming into his life like an unforgiving hurricane of things and emotions he had never had the time nor the interest in experiencing at their fullest.

Yet, there you were.

Blatant, not giving two shits on his scary nature, fascinated by him through and through and brazen for making a move. That had surely sealed the deal for him.

He wasn't one for backing away from difficulties, he knew much the challenge he represented to others. And still, you did not only pass it with flying colors, but had actually enjoyed it. Enjoyed him; and in all truth, he enjoyed you too.

Enjoyed the push and pull you offered, the demented moments that certainly earned his brain another wrinkle since he was learning so much from you. Enjoyed your attention and how willingly you'd bask him into it. You were his nepenthe.

How gentle and patient you were with him, when everyone expected so much out of him. Of course he was a genius, or else he wouldn't be into the Lab's head division back in Alchemax. But the way you made him experience things felt surreal, and the feeling increased ten times fold when you shared your first kiss.

The way your lips had tasted and devoured each other was engraved into his core memories. The way you both had explored and shared your emotions was exciting, thrilling yet oh so scary for him.

He wasn't one used to be taken care of. He was the caretaker. A self imposed role he always seemed invested in. But your little ways of weaving into his heart and mind showed him a new perspective of the world he often ignored.

He'd never forget how gentle and careful your tiny fingers were, when helping him patching up in that dirty soccer game. How shameless you were enjoying his reactions. How gorgeous you looked when your eyes wrinkled when laughing your ass off at his suffering. Cruel, but so so hypnotizing.

You'd soon become his wonderwall. His obsession and the only reason he'd go to social gatherings really. If you were there, everything was as it should be. Wonderful, the world would keep spinning normally, but in the few times your absence said present, he'd go home early. Bored out of his mind, the rest was too simple and unworthy of his attention.

Of course, women threw themselves at him. Appearance wasn't something he indulged too much neither care. He was aware of his looks, specially on his little pair of abnormal fangs you loved to feel, for whatever reasons.

"I just do." You'd tell him. And that was more than enough motive to stop worrying over them. You loved them. You loved him.

Every bit of his unwanted self, you made sure he'd know how much you enjoyed it, how much you cherished that certain part he had grown uncomfortable with through his younger years and he'd do the same for you.

After you had shared your bodies, there was no turning back for him. He gave everything of himself into you. His flesh, his scent, his energy and love to you. Something so raw yet pure that turned you into his inspiration, his muse.

You always strived to be better, for yourself mostly.

"How can one be the best version of oneself if we don't grow ourselves as individuals? I want you to have the best of me."

You'd shared in between giggles and drunken thoughts.

He adored your drunk self but would never admit it out loud. You'd come up with the most random yet brain eater questions you could imagine.

He'd fear that day that nearly lost you completely over his stupid pride. A fight ignited by your family. A reason to rarely and never visit them.

He loved your mind. And as months passed on you both, he learned how to love your flaws as well.

And now, three years after, you had given him one of his most precious gifts. His firstborn. His daughter. His child. The result of his unbridled love towards you.

You were his. But of course you had no ways to prove it to the world.

He'd spend hours if possible, watching you through loving yet stoic eyes, feed his little bundle of love, that was overjoyed whenever he held her.

A little Gabriella that was now deep asleep into her crib, in her own room, under his roof. Of course you'd move in with him when Gabi was born. It was the right thing to you.

Six months had passed since her birth, and three years with six months had passed since he met you.

You crawled under the sheets, quanked, yet with the little bits of energy you had left, curled into his chest. Seeking his blanketing warmth. His chest your safe space.

"Took me longer this time to make her fall asleep"

"Yeah. Maybe we should take her to the doctor."

His brows knitted together briefly before kissing your forehead.

"I'm pretty sure she'll be fine."

Silence crawled on you both as you just relished into each other's company. His heartbeat kept pounding in his ears.

The past year and a half had gone through but a certain question was always present. Why hadn't he ask you sooner? It didn't matter.

You remained at his side. So ever loyal, so brave, so rident and brisk. You were exactly what the hypothetical cupid delivered him after his secret longings.

"Mi reina?" (My queen)

An endearing term he only used when discussing serious matters. Despite the exhaustion taking your body hostage, you inquired him with a small and sleepy 'Hm?'

"Would you marry me?"

Eyes looked up at him, a mix of surprise and anger. Surprise that he'd ask such thing out of the blue and anger for the question to be so... powerful and simple that left you speechless. And still, you couldn't help but chuckle out of nervousness.

"It's not a laughing matter corazón. I mean it. Would you marry me?"

You felt your left ring finger being adorned with a golden band that against all odds was perfect in your finger. Like he had forseen this for quite the time.

But it also made sense. All those little moments of him touching and examining your hands resumed into this moment.

"Of course I wanna marry you, tontito" (dummy)

He chuckled as he caressed your hair in his own self grounding and reassuring touch.

"Good. Good."

"Te amo."

His heart wasn't raging anymore, but soaring into this quiet and maddening joy. You had said yes. The words he so yearned for you to say , finally spoken to his heart.

"También te amo, preciosa."

Your own heart soared in bliss at the words you had been secretly practicing over and over. You no longer had to practice, since one of your secret and wildest dreams had came true.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#gabi o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 imagine #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara fluff #proposal #atsv imagines

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profoundmakerdreamerss-blog · 7 days

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Alright, I know some people think that Harry will be down bad/have a crush on Tom first or some thinks it'll be Tom; but I feel like it's neither? Hell, canonically, Harry is really emotionally stunted in that regard, and I just don't see him grovelling or reacting that way to anyone or not specifically to Tom? Especially not a Slytherin who is always busy with political climbing or things-that-don't-interest-Harry. I feel like they'll be so busy with their lives, that until and unless someone smack dabs them together (with their luck, let's be real something WILL smack dab them together) I do believe they'll be passing thoughts in each other's life.

Harry might end up thinking in the passing that Tom's really good looking because hell, I've done that; even when I'm not attracted to someone, I will always appreciate a face that I find pleasing. I don't think Harry will be that interested in Tom until and unless he does something that attracts him (ex: quidditch LMAO). And the same goes for Tom, for whom I have this headcanon; that it's not intelligence or say, defiance that would attract him but something more. More visceral, more ground shaking (something very small in others' eyes perhaps but not to Tom). Something that will make him stop and think and learn. Because he doesn't seem like a person who would just get a crush out of nowhere,but that doesn't mean he won't be attracted to power tho lmao knowing him, he most deffo would. (Also all this doesn't mean i mind obsessed Tom fics, bc vee obsessing over harry is canon so who's to say he doesn't end up doing the same lmao).

And also the headcanon of Harry not realizing Tom is suspicious? Guys, this is Harry Potter; Mr I doubt everything and anything. Mr I fought of imperio because it felt too good to be true and my mind went sus alert. You think Harry wouldn't see Tom Riddle being so nice and so perfect and won't feel wait a second? Give my boy some credit, I beg. We've been shown his sixth sense being right, over and over again. And he has trust issues.

So, food for thought? Neither of them would do the grovelling and pining (they might in some specific circumstances but not in your average fics where they are doing their things without crossing paths), rather they are gonna do the falling once faith crash them together so hard; they end up getting a concussion (love).

Also adding this: I feel like they will fall for each other, no matter what and it will be not be because of faith or whatever but rather because of how much they can learn from each other and how perfectly they fit together. It will not be some random feelings, no. It will be push and pull, it'll be you get me, it will be I know you'll always have my back and it will be all the broken furnitures because they're stubborn. It will be challenging each other to be the better version of themselves.

Tom, who knows he is the best; can teach Harry some things about CONFIDENCE and he could teach Harry that he's enough. Harry, who knows a thing or two about humility, can drag him back when Tom tries to be Icarus and he can ground Tom when it's needed. Harry and Tom can both challenge each other and learn from each other. Harry will never suffocate Tom, and neither will he let Tom suffocate him and to me that's what make their dynamic special. I love them, okay — I hate it when people go; yeah he will be the one who'll just pine away or there's no way he (one of them) will fall for him etc. Let them be down bad for each other. thanks. It's not a competition.

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niki-phoria · 7 months

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⋆｡°✩ five times kai almost kisses you - and the first time he does

pairing: huening kai x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 1.4k

includes: lots of fluff, forgive me if some of these don't really make sense lol, might do more versions with this concept idk

a/n: got a ton of inspo from this post by @mins-fins !!

one.

kai isn’t sure when it started.

the butterflies swarming in his stomach whenever you made eye contact; the way his face burned whenever he thought about you for too long; his heart racing each time your hands so much as brushed against one another.

it’s an unfamiliar feeling - one that he can’t quite put a label on despite the seemingly endless nights he’s spent tossing and turning in his bedsheets as his mind races to explain what you are to each other. what he wants you to be to him.

“kai?” he startles when you wave a hand in front of his face to catch his attention. your eyebrows are knitted together in concern as you lean in a little closer. “are you okay? you look a little… out of it.”

“yeah, yeah,” he nods, trying to channel his most convincing tone. “i’m fine.”

you accept his explanation with a simple hum of acknowledgement, turning your attention back to the drama still playing on your tv. a few uneventful minutes pass before kai freezes when you shift slightly closer to him. you let your head lull onto his shoulder, nuzzling yourself into the crook of his neck. your hair tickles his bare skin and he can feel himself tensing with each passing second though he doesn’t dare to move away. “is this okay?” you murmur.

he nods, hoping you can’t see the deep blush tainting his cheeks. “it’s perfectly fine.”

two.

something has changed between you and kai.

at least he thinks it has. an unspoken rule broken or touches lingering just a little too long to be completely platonic. something is different - kai just doesn’t know what.

a soft smile graces kai’s lips when he feels you lean your head against his shoulder. despite the heat rising to his cheeks, he hesitantly shifts slightly to wrap an arm around your waist. leaning even more into his touch, you smile up at him as you rest your body against his chest.

“is this okay?” he asks, echoing your own words from only a few weeks ago.

“it’s perfectly fine,” you hum.

he glances down at you, only catching a glimpse of your bright smile before he returns his attention to the movie still playing on the dorm’s tv. the on-screen drama does little to hold his attention. despite the increasingly dramatic storytelling events, his mind remains exclusively on you: your laugh whenever the characters stumble over themselves; the warmth of your body pressed against his; the way you occasionally lick your lips whenever you get bored. especially your lips. especially how kissable they look.

kai pushes the feeling down into the deep recesses of his mind, though your fingers still intertwined with his do little to calm his still-racing heartbeat.

three.

kai doesn’t think he’s ever been so scared before.

his heart nearly stops beating when he opens his door to you - standing on his front doorstep drenched in rain with teary eyes. “y/n?” he whispers.

“kai,” you sniffle. “can i… stay with you? just for tonight.”

“of course.” he moves unconsciously as he ushers you inside. in the light he can see the fresh tear stains on your cheeks. his heart breaks at the sight, though he pushes the feeling down in favour of wrapping a warm towel around your shoulders.

kai fidgets uncomfortably with his fingers as he sits beside you on the couch. a few unbearable minutes of silence pass before you finally build up enough courage to speak. “will you… hold me? please?”

his heart cracks when your voice does. his body moves before his mind does, pulling you into his arms to lean against his chest. your hands tightly grip the fabric of his hoodie as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

kai wishes he could kiss it better. he wishes he could protect you from all of the bad things that haunt the world. but instead he hesitantly leans down; his mind racing before he settles for pressing a soft kiss against the crown of your forehead. you sniffle as you snuggle yourself even closer to his touch, letting yourself get lost in his warmth.

four.

kai feels miserable.

his headache pounds violently each time he attempts to move, his throat is unbearably scratchy no matter how much water he drinks, and his body is simultaneously too hot and too cold.

being sick is miserable.

time blends together around him as he collapses against his bedsheets. it feels like his body is sinking into the mattress.

kai startles awake hours later to the feeling of someone playing with his hair. your touch is gentle as you carefully twist the strands between your fingers. blinking up at you through blurry vision, a sleepy smile stretches across his face. “y/n,” his voice slurs; the syllables mix together as they leave his lips.

“hi kai,” you smile. your hand trails to brush against his forehead to check his temperature. his skin is overly warm against your fingertips.

kai’s gaze follows you when you pull away before gently tugging him to sit up. he groans as he rests against the headboard for support. “here,” you whisper, raising a spoon up towards his lips. the soup is warm on his tongue; the heat soothing some of the ache in his throat. “i made you some samgyetang.”

kai hopes you’ll assume the blush on his face is from his fever. your touch makes his heart race faster than he’s ever felt before. “i think i’m in love with you,” he deliriously mumbles.

“i love you too, kai,” you chuckle.

five.

it happens before he knows it.

kai awakens to sunlight streaming in through his windows. he’s still wearing the oversized hoodie and sweatpants he was last night. his phone lays haphazardly tossed to the side; forgotten on the blankets beside him. and there’s a cute boy laying in his bed beside him.

not that he’s complaining.

after the momentary shock wears off, kai relaxes once again. he rolls over onto his side to face you. a soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips. reaching up, he pushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face. your features are much softer when you’re asleep; your peaceful expression never changes.

in the silence, kai finds himself entranced by the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest each time you breathe. it’s like second nature to him - admiring you. the way you bite your bottom lip when you get nervous. how you push yourself harder than anyone else he’s ever known. you’re like a book that he’s memorized front to back.

before kai realizes, his gaze drifts down to your lips. they’re slightly chapped from dehydration but you still look as kissable as always.

he startles back slightly when you slowly stir awake. sleepily blinking up at him through tired eyes, a soft smile stretches across your features. “good morning kai,” you mumble.

“morning,” he smiles.

the kiss.

it doesn’t feel real.

something in reality has been broken or you’ve all been sent into a parallel universe - kai’s sure of it. if it weren’t for you standing right in front of him he’s sure he would have pinched himself ages ago. because there’s no other possible explanation for your current situation.

your hand feels cool against kai’s skin. he can feel his blush burning across his cheeks and up his ears, though the embarrassment barely crosses his mind. a nervous smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

“say it again,” he whispers. “please.”

“i like you, kai.” he can hear the anxiety-ridden shake in your voice with each syllable.

kai hesitantly leans in, stepping closer to you. it feels like hours have passed when he speaks once again. “i like you too.”

you smile brightly at him; a grateful chuckle escapes you. his gaze almost unconsciously flickers down to stare at your lips. the new admission of your feelings has made it almost impossible for him to prevent the stream of words leaving his mouth. “can… can i kiss you?”

you don’t waste any time, eagerly leaning in to press your lips against his. kai’s hands find their home on your hips, keeping your body tightly pressed against his.

“you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do this,” he breathes. the words are muffled as he rushes to say them in between kisses.

you let out an airy laugh in response. your arms snake around kai’s neck, tugging him even closer to you. “then don’t stop.”

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iridescentmirrorsgenshin · 2 months

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thinking about how the Sumeru Archon Quest can be read as a metaphor for Alhaitham and Kaveh's relationship and their progression and going crazy

Alhaitham is present during the quest, whereas Kaveh is not, and this causes Alhaitham to question why Kaveh was not present in saving Sumeru. Relating this to their thesis, although it made many bounds for Sumeru’s understanding of ancient languages and architecture which held promise for betterment of the future, it was abandoned before completion due to their clashing of views and personal attacks of each other. Alhaitham repeatedly questioning why Kaveh was missing hints that Kaveh should have been a part of the Archon-saving plan, in that, Kaveh was missing from the betterment of Sumeru. Once again, an opportunity passed by for them uniting for a mutually agreed cause. This is due to the dissonance between them and their lack of successful communication.

In the Archon Quest, Alhaitham is present, ready for reconciliation, to work together, whereas Kaveh is missing, unaware of the chance of reconciliation. Kaveh believes that Alhaitham deliberately stirred trouble in Sumeru, rather than saving it, due to his flawed perception of Alhaitham – just as he believes that Alhaitham wants something in return for allowing Kaveh to live in his house, rather than it being an invitation for reconciliation, due to his flawed perception of Alhaitham.

This, in turn, creates a space in the narrative for the two to join together of their own accord, however, the two need to be in the same mindset for reconciliation. As established in Kaveh's Hangout and A Parade of Providence, this can be brought about by the mutual understanding that their clashes do not stem from overall differences in thinking, but their way of communication. Rather than their relationship being based on the opposition of their thinking, it should be based upon the potential that can be borne from identifying good in the balancing of viewpoints – which their thesis had achieved.

Their development as individuals ultimately lies within the other as they possess what the other lacks in order to fully complete their understanding of each other, and themselves. Alhaitham is the grounding for Kaveh’s ideals and the push for him to prioritise himself in his pursuit for happiness for “all” (as established within a parade of providence), whereas Kaveh is the breach in Alhaitham’s rationality and allows him to understand the sensibility of others around him, enabling Alhaitham to possess an enhanced version of his truth.

(Update: For more analyses like this, the essay this is taken from is now uploaded! It can be accessed here and here as as a pdf <3)

#alhaitham #kaveh #haikaveh #kavetham #haikaveh meta #i love overthinking so much #but really kaveh being missing from the archon quest but being the Main Character of a parade of providence is so poignant #the first thing alhaitham does when kaveh returns is ask and then demand to know where kaveh was and what he was doing #and kaveh is convinced that alhaitham has done something nefarious in sumeru #and then in the cutscene afterwards alhaitham asks about kaveh’s whereabouts AGAIN #like what was all that about #if not to show that alhaitham believed that kaveh should have been a part of the narrative #but they are not on the same page!!!#their history shows what they can achieve when their views are aligned and balanced #i am BEGGING we get an instance like that again

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jamiesfootball · 1 year

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Season two of the Ted Lasso rewatch and I am having some string feelings. Some strong feelers. Some shrimp about Ted and Jamie and how Ted really, really struggles between being Coach Shaped and being Dad Shaped when it comes to Jamie, and how Jamie is horrible at discerning either.

(Buckle up this is gonna be a long one)

Because what we start off with in season one is very much a man who is used to being Coach Shaped. He wants the boys to be inspired and to learn about life and to become the best versions of themselves that they can be. All of which could be very Dad Shaped, but in execution they’re not.

He steps back to let people grow, and sometimes that involves letting bullies be bullies so that the true leaders of the group can step up. Sometimes it’s letting Nate roast the other players- quite cuttingly at that - to get the team motivated. He’s directing the orchestra sure, but he’s not in the pit telling people how better to get along. He’s warm and welcoming, and he tries to foster good rapport and encourage people to talk to him and open up. He, dare I say it, actually has boundaries with people. He asked Rebecca in the first episode how she was holding up with the divorce, and when she seemed upset he noted it, offered a little commiseration, and moved right along without making a fuss.

And then he calls Jamie Tartt into his office to give him a compliment sandwich (“you’re a great athlete now pass the fucking ball and then you’ll be a super great athlete okay thanks”) and I think that’s where Ted’s boundary with Jamie first starts to erode. Because Jamie unintentionally ruins his whole fucking script. Jamie’s disaffected act crumbles at the first compliment. He’s sincerely taken aback by Ted’s praise, a little nervous and a little pleading. He breaks the rules of compliment sandwiching by demurring “well I work really hard”, which forces Ted to agree which is in a way TWO compliments, and when Ted tries to push through with his critique, Jamie ends up critiquing himself first about something completely different (“my left cross”), and then Ted has to wrestle them back to the actual critique, and the whole thing is just. Definitely not the ordeal Ted thought it would be.

So from early on we have these two working at cross purposes - because Ted thinks he’s being Coach Shaped, but the Shape he is doesn’t fit any Coach Jamie has ever had.

“what’s he like?”

“Great”

“…….”

“Well great at football”

“Yeah, I’ve know guys like that.”

And in return, Ted has known ‘guys like that’, competent athletes who are a necessary part of the game, but have such egos (“I’m not sure you realize how mentally healthy that is”) that Ted thinks he has to go to his players girlfriend for insight on how to motivate Jamie in the way that Ted needs for team cohesion.

So this is Ted trying to be Coach Shaped and give this kid a wake up call and this kid is so receptive that Ted barely had to lift a finger. But it doesn’t stick.

Ok. So next he attempts to give Jamie a book that he thinks will wake him up to the reality he’s living. He gave them to everyone. He’s still being Coach Shaped. He makes Roy and Jamie sit at the same table and tries to orchestrate a truce. He kinda gets there, but the next episode they’re still at each other’s throats. Jamie listened to Ted about the one in a million / one in eleven thing, but then Jamie ignored it. So he benched him. He’s Coach Shaped; it wasn’t personal.

Except Ted is not has not been anything Coach Shaped that Jamie could recognize, and football really is his life too. So it was very fucking personal. And here’s the first wrinkle in the narrative both of them have been telling themselves, because what does Jamie do? He fakes an injury and benches himself.

If Ted doesn’t think he should play, or doesn’t think that the way he’s playing is correct, then fine- he’ll make them both miserable. He just won’t fucking play. It’s kid logic at its finest. It’s cutting your nose to spite your face. ‘Well you said I wasn’t doing it right, so I won’t do it at all.’

It’s the same shit Jamie pulls on his dad when he leaves Man City to go be a reality tv star.

And it’s the first crack in the veneer between them, because the way Ted loses his shit at Jamie for it is not very Coach Shaped, but it is very very Dad Shaped. And unfortunately it was the sort of Dad Shaped that Jamie did recognize.

It’s the first loss of control Ted has in general, and it’s circling this player that Ted can’t seem to get a grip on.

And then there’s Jamie going to Keeley, and he’s got Manchester on his mind. It’s the first time we’ve heard him talk about the council estate he grew up in, and Keeley is telling him to stop battling people who want to help him. So he goes to the bonfire. And he talks about the fucking footprint his dad left in his wake. And he talks wistfully about his mom being proud. And this isn’t just about opening up to the team, it’s also about Jamie Tartt not battling Ted. Taking a risk that even if Ted isn’t very Coach Shaped, even if he appears closer to Dad Shaped than Jamie would like, whatever Ted is - Jamie is probably safe to be a little honest.

It’s not very Star Athlete With An Ego of him; but it’s very very Son Shaped.

“I was just starting to get through to him.”

Ted’s anger with Rebecca could be Coach Shaped. It could be. But it sure hurt him enough that it’s the first time he’s actually angry with Rebecca. Meanwhile Jamie was so hurt he had to tell everyone who would listen about it. Had to iterate that it was good riddance on being rid of Ted Lasso, because at least Pep was a proper Coach Shaped Coach. Someone who’d drill Jamie on the technicals. Someone who probably never once cared enough to pull him aside and tell him if he did a good job. Someone who probably assumed that’s what Jamie’s dad was for, showing up after matches.

“Good luck out there, Jamie!”

“Fucking mind games.”

Whatever Jamie already thought of Ted as a coach must’ve been rolling in the pit Jamie tried to bury it in, because Coach Shaped men don’t cheer you on when you’re playing for the other team. Pep wouldn’t do it if he still played for Richmond.

And maybe Coach Lasso does it for everyone he coaches. Probably. But it’s a very Dad Shaped thing. And fuck, Jamie’s actual fucking dad doesn’t cheer for him at all when Jamie isn’t playing for Manchester, so how’s Jamie supposed to know what it means?

Then there’s Ted, who just can’t help himself. Who can’t help but see potential in Jamie. And when he sees Jamie after the match, it’s a quick war on whether he should speak to him because in that instance Coach mode and Dad mode are in alignment.

Except reality hits as hard as a boot against the wall, because Jamie has a dad. And it’s not Ted. It’s not someone who’s come to tell him well done, or that he’s proud of the baby steps Jamie has taken, even though he’s been left to walk them alone. It is the opposite of what a father should be, but it’s taken up the mantle. Father Shaped. A thing of fury. A role fulfilled, not looking for new applicants.

Coach wins in that moment. Ted turns and walks away, and Jamie can finally see now in Ted Lasso the Coach Shape he’s familiar with.

Except even that can’t stick around and be familiar can it? Because while no one was looking, the Dad Shape in Ted scribbled him a little message. Left a note in his absence to let him know he was proud. Sent Beard with an army man, someone to lookout for Jamie and keep him safe. I’d say at this point a Ted Lasso couldn’t’ve drawn a line between Coach Shaped and Dad Shaped - this was a matter of pure human empathy, and decency, and an apology in its own way. I’m sorry for the roles we’ve been given. I’m sorry, but please know I care.

He walked away from Jamie and his dad. He didn’t have any obligation to Jamie. There was no more match to be won. Any involvement of Jamie Tartt in Ted’s life coulda woulda should’ve ended there.

“There’s something out there worse than being sad, and that’s being sad and alone. And ain’t nobody in this room alone.”

The look on Jamie’s face in that scene says it all. Because he is alone, but Ted clearly (desperately) doesn’t want him to be.

But being alone is better than being stuck in a room with James Tartt Sr.

Jamie doesn’t go to Ted first after Lust Conquers All. Why would he (think he had the right to)?

The first thing Jamie does do (after Keeley tells him it’s ok to go to Ted) when he meets Ted again is show him the Ted (Danson) Soldier. Ted may have made the gesture, and Jamie may have understood the meaning of it, but he does Not understand Ted. Not this Coach-but-Not-a-Coach. Still Jamie thinks he has the distinction down - what soft underbelly he thinks he needs to bare for this type of Coach to believe him when asks for a chance to come home.

“You were getting good minutes up at City.”

Ted redirects Jamie here in a very Coach Shaped way. He guides Jamie into admitting the real reason why he quit. He hears Jamie out, makes observations about how Jamie coming back would work from a team perspective, and makes only occasional eye contact. This is Ted clinging to a role that he’s used to, the one that comforts him in its ability to help other people.

(If there is something Dad Shaped in that scene, it’s an awful, haunting one. Not the one that Jamie grew up with, but the one that Ted grew up with. The one who took his son to play darts every Sunday for six years, who probably sat next to him and drank beer the way Ted does)

But Ted never set out to be anyone’s dad. He’s their Coach, and he has a responsibility to everyone on his team. It’s nothing personal; he’s just being a Coach.

They clink glasses. Cheers, and best of luck to your future endeavors.

There is something very tired about the way Jamie puts down his beer without taking a sip. He looks lost. He does not look surprised. (How could you have expectations for something you’ve never known? And how come that doesn’t make him feel any better about it?)

We don’t see Jamie after that.

We see Ted at training, worrying about Dr Sharon watching the team he’s made. He worries that she’s getting closer (metaphor). When Sam storms off the field, Ted is startled but relieved to follow. He doesn’t want self examination. He wants to be Coach. He wants to embrace the parts of coaching he’s always loved- helping other people improve and be better.

Sam tells him that he doesn’t want Jamie back on the team, and there’s a split second of relief from Ted because he made the right call.

Then Sam talks about his father, and how his father is grateful for Ted because with Ted around, he knows his son is safe. Because this has nothing to do with being Coach Shaped. Coach Shaped he may be in Sam’s life, but here’s Sam, who is very Son Shaped himself, and his father agreeing that Coach Lasso serves a greater purpose in Sam’s life than just being a supportive motivator. In their mind, in the absence of a father, Ted Lasso will do just fine. He will keep Sam safer than any little green army man.

That’s the final inexorable blurring of the lines for Ted, where the coach finally drops the ball to pay attention to the scraped knees that have been left behind.

Ted calls the Diamond Dogs meeting. Coach Beard and Coach Nate are very Coach Shaped indeed. What about the teamwork, Ted? “He’s the poop in the punch bowl.” Leslie is for bringing him back, but it’s for football reasons. It makes managerial sense.

But none of it means anything to Ted because at that moment he can not find it in himself to be Coach Shaped.

“I thought it was settled, but Sam went and unsettled it.”

“He reminded me that not everyone is lucky enough to have a good dad.”

“In sports aren’t we always on about second chances? Shouldn’t that apply to people too?”

This is not Coach Shaped. In some ways it’s not even Dad Shaped. But it is caring, and empathy, and wanting an excuse, any excuse, to try again. It is Love Shaped.

Ted Lasso is a coach to his team and a dad to a great little boy down in Kansas, and for Jamie Tartt he can try to fit on a third extra thing. Whatever that thing is called. Neither of them know what that thing is called. They’re too familiar with Coaches and too unfamiliar with Dads to know the difference.

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #good grief this is long #ted lasso rewatch

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haesunflower · 1 year

Text

meeting the parents with zb1

genre: fluff

pairing: reader (gn) x all members of zerobaseone

about/tags: zb1 is introduced to your parents for the first time

cursing in some, yujin is here platonically, family dynamics, bullet point reactions

⠀⠀ kim jiwoong ⠀⠀

is so confident lol and has every right to be

during dinner, one of his hands lays flatly on your leg because you keep nervously fidgeting in your seat

he doesn't get why you're panicking because it's going so well

you're just nervous because you've never introduced anyone to your family, as jiwoong is your first serious adult relationship

while you're washing the dishes with your mom, jiwoong overhears your conversation and finds out he's the first boyfriend you've ever brought home

"but for the record, i think he's perfect for you y/n."

"i didn't want you to meet anyone i'm less than sure of, jiwoong is definitely the one mom"

⠀⠀ zhang hao ⠀⠀

is a fucking nervous wreck

literally can't think straight and scared he'll say something stupid

so at first, he doesn't really talk at all

you softly squeeze his hand from under the dinner table, just to let him know he's supported

your mom ends up really liking him and tells him he has a gentle soul

"that's one of my favorite things about him, mom"

looks at you fondly smiles

across the table, your parents are reminded of a young version of themselves

⠀⠀ sung hanbin ⠀⠀

is so helpful oh my god

literally sets up the table and helps your mom carry the cooler to the garden

even helps figure out how to work the grill with your dad

your parents are impressed to say the least

your mom whispers to you, "you better marry that one"

hanbin is busy sharing a beer with your dad, toasting to the grill that was now working

he looks back at you and gestures for you to come closer to taste the meat that was grilling – makes sure to blow on it so it's not too hot before feeding you

you're chewing happily, and hanbin is smiling at you with his eyes

⠀⠀ seok matthew ⠀⠀

he is quick to become friends with your dad

they bond over conversations of sports teams and weightlifting, and they disappear into their own world

the rest of your family arrives for the pool party

your dad and mom are throwing water balloons at each other when matthew giggles from beside you and says "that'll be us one day y/n"

you're distracted by his sweet words you don't even realize both of you are being pushed in the pool by your younger siblings

matthew pretends to look offended and starts to playfully chase the culprits

you're smiling to yourself because you can't believe how easily he fits into your family

⠀⠀ kim taerae ⠀⠀

your parents already knew taerae

he grew up next door and was also your first boyfriend

it was literally no problem, no issue 100%

when you wake up at noon, taerae is already dressed and helping your mom prepare for dinner

you're just like./??? when did you get here?

your mom calls you lazy and says she is grateful to have a son-in-law like taerae

he smiles widely at the word son-in-law, dimple on full display

you don't say anything, instead you stand next to him to quietly assist him

the whole thing feels domestic, but you're not complaining

it feels right :)

⠀⠀ ricky ⠀⠀

he ordered flowers in advance for your mom & expensive whiskey for your dad

covered up his tattoos and wore his hair down to look less intimidating

even asked you if he should just dye his hair natural color because he was scared your parents would HATE him

you kept assuring him there was nothing to worry about

ricky is perfect so he nailed it obvi! he didn't show an ounce of nervousness and kept his cool the whole time

your dad jokingly asks him if he should also bleach his hair blonde

you all laugh at the dining table as your mom hits your dad playfully

(your dad isn't joking) (in fact asks ricky to bleach it for him)

you wake up the next day to texts from your dad, it's a selfie of him getting his hair done by ricky

⠀⠀ kim gyuvin ⠀⠀

you're scared that your dad will scare the shit outta him

and for the record, he did

"h-hi sir, it's n-nice to meet you sir" while bowing literally too many times

gyuvin feels like his face is frozen in a forced smile as your dad asks him all sorts of questions about him ,,,, it feels like a job interview

he relaxes when you start drawing small circles on the back of his hand

in the end your dad says "okay you pass, you're pretty decent"

gyuvin takes it as a win and just breathes out a sigh of relief

you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and while you're gone, your parents sincerely thank gyuvin for making you happy

gyuvin in return thanks them for raising such a wonderful person, and tells them that "loving y/n is the easiest part of my life"

you didn't actually use the bathroom, you just wanted to know what they'll say without you there :') you're soft now

⠀⠀ park gunwook ⠀⠀

is literally so prepared he STUDIED what your parents like by stalking their facebook and took notes while asking you detailed questions about them

just in case, made a whole speech to answer the question "what do you like about y/n?" (he didn't end up using it but he came prepared!)

lol the usual, everyone loves him

your mom barely acknowledges you during dinner and serves gunwook all the best parts of the steak, literally no one hears you ask for someone to pass the potatoes bc they're so engrossed in conversation with gunwook

gunwook hears you though and happily serves you a heaping, whilst responding to your dad's question with ease

your mom smiles at the interaction

at the end of the night he proudly says "i think your parents like me :D" and he's so cute because he looks so satisfied with himself

⠀⠀ han yujin ⠀⠀

(friendship only)

during your recital, your parents think he's some sorta dancing prodigy

which is true because he only started dancing a year ago

at the lobby, you and your parents bump into yujin and his family, and they commend him for doing so well during his solo

when you get home to check the footage from the recital, you're barely in any of "your videos" because it's 70% yujin -_-

A/N: work is killing me guys, i don't know when i'll be able to sit down and just write huhu

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sea-owl · 1 month

Text

Actually, wait I want to talk more about the matches the Featherington sisters managed to make for themselves.

So there's a quote I heard a while back that you want your kids to do better for themselves than what you did. Portia while she probably did well for herself socially by what we can infer with marrying up by marrying a baron we also know she was never happy in her marriage. Nor from what we have been shown has she ever really known romantic love. The most love we have seen from Portia is a maternal type of love towards her daughters but even that we have been shown is jaded more than likely due to her experiences from society. We also know she places survival above any emotion, of her daughters, herself, and in a weird way the barony too. Every time we hear her talking about marriage we rarely, if at all, hear her bring up love.

I think Portia succeeded in a way with her daughters ending up better than she did in their marriages. The men her daughters married were not the ideal type she would have ever imagined for them or hoped, but they are also all men her daughters needed to make their lives better. Her daughters are secured like Portia wanted, but they're also happy, and we know at least two are in love. (I'm withholding on prudank until I see them some more) Emotionally they're in a better place than Portia was during her marriage.

In season 1 Daphne said that the first sister married sets the tone for the other sisters and I think we can hold that true for the Featherington sisters.

Philippa was the first one married when she married Mr. Albion Finch. A man who wasn't quite the catch socially even though he is part of the ton but also a man who adores his wife and loves her. We see this trend continue with her sisters.

We should have known that Prudence wouldn't see the altar with Jack Featheringotn, outside of that weird thing he tried with Portia, Jack Featherington did not fit the Feathrington groom mold. Mr. Harry Dankworth, a man who looks like pure sunshine and just happy to be there will definitely be a better match for Prudence. Feel like he can soften her more jaded edges.

Then of course we got Mr. Colin Bridgeton, who we have seen without even having or realizing his romantic interests in Penelope craves her attention, and wants to be like the man she believes him to be. They both are going to push each other to be better versions of themselves and learn to love all parts of one another.

The Featherington sisters' road to marriage isn't quite as grandly dramatic as the Bridgertons. Penelope's being an exception but she's marrying a Bridgerton so there's no escaping that fate. But all their marriages are sweet, happy, and loving, something I feel like each one of them needed.

#bridgerton #polin #philippa x albion #philippa x finch #prudank #prudence x dankworth #prudence x harry #penelope featherington #philippa featherington #prudence featherington

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