#so. no more horror for me for the foreseeable :( i just want to get through the seasonal depression. and get my grief for mabel down to a

[reverieblondie]

Scary Movie Night

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), Full nelson, Oral, Cum eating, Reverse cowgirl.

Summary: Halloween Night and horror movies what could go wrong?

A/N: I can not do kinktober because I write to slow, so this is my Halloween fic instead. Also if you have sent me a request I am working on it so please be patient! If you enjoyed this Halloween themed Fic, please checkout my Halloween Fic with Peter B Parker here.

Word Count: 6,582

“Oh no please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface I want to be in the sequel!” 

Halloween night, alone with no plans but to watch the horror movie marathon on TV, pass out candy to trick-or-treaters, and gorge yourself on candy and popcorn.  

The movie marathon was going strong. You had started with Nightmare on Elm Street, and now you have moved on to Scream. The marathon was the perfect way to get into the Halloween spirit. Halloween was the perfect night to get your spook on, everyone is entitled to one good scare on the spookiest night of the year. However, you didn't foresee yourself getting scared from the movies with having to constantly get up to pass out candy to eager trick-or-treaters. 

The doorbell rang out causing you to heave yourself from the couch dusting popcorn derby from your chest you flip on your interior lights and answer the door. 

“Trick or Treat!” 

The little Bundle of kids cheered. Ranging in ages you surveyed the group with a smile. A sweet little princess, an impressive robot, and an oddly adorable zombie, with them a tepid teenager with his scary werewolf mask on top of his head. You assume the babysitter for the night.  Quickly complementing their costumes you gave them each a handful of the sugary treats they were so desperate for. Chirping a thank you they all run off to the next house over. 

Smiling as they run off you scan the crisp autumn night watching the masses of excited children cheering and laughing as they run from house to house. As you are greeting some more treaters running to your door, something catches your eye. 

A dark figure seems to be slowly walking in the shadows of the sidewalks carefully avoiding running children and lights as it walks carefully by, surveying the rows of houses. Watching intently you quickly pass out the candy while trying to get a good look at the figure. Then one of the kids chirps a thank you causing you to smile down at them, once the kids run off your porch you look for the figure in the night and it seems to have disappeared. Okay, that was creepy. Maybe it was just a harmless kid, don't work yourself up. 

And you didn’t the whole weird sighting had completely left your mind. You had finished Scream and moved on to Halloween, is it even truly Halloween if you haven't watched this movie at least once? Enthralled in the movie your lights are turned dim to get you into the atmosphere of the film. Then something makes you jump, and it wasn’t the shape on the screen.  

Whipping your head towards the sound, it's like a soft tapping and it's coming from your window. This caused only one thought to rush through your brain- did I lock the window…

Slowly approaching the window you hear the tapping continue and you swear as you inch closer it becomes more rampant. Then as you reach for the curtain it seems to stop. It's probably just nothing, but the thought of that shadowy figure made all your confidence waver. If this is something you are screwed…maybe if you had some company you would be calmer. 

Not wanting to be a horror movie cliche you start looking through your phone's contacts. You need someone dependable, scary, and someone you wouldn't mind hanging out with, like…

You stop scrolling and stare at the contact name: Miguel O’Hara…

Dependable- yes, he can be kinda a hardass but at work, he is always ready to give a helping hand to you every time you ask, even though he would not shy away from giving you shit when given the chance. Though you have grown to enjoy the teasing.  

Scary- Uh, the dude is 6 '9' and built like a brick wall. It was one of the first things you noticed about him, The dude was huge! He could probably crush you if he needed to, though would that be so bad? It has become an office joke that when he's not at work he's living at the gym working out like crazy. How else could he be so big? 

Now Miguel is your friend, you two had gotten close through your jobs at Alchemax, So it's only natural for a friend to let another friend come over right? Even if this said friend is quite attractive, with a gorgeous face, broad back, slender waist, and the best ass you have ever seen. Yeah, hanging out alone in your house shouldn't be a problem…Right?

Taking a deep breath you press the call button. 

-Bring…-

-Brriinnngg…-

“Hello?” 

“Um, Hey Miguel, are you busy?” 

You hear Miguel shuffling around before he answers “What's wrong?” 

Wow, he's pretty perceptive, you didn't realize how shaken up you sounded for him to ask you that so quickly. “Uh, I was wondering if you could…come over?”

There is a long moment of silence then what sounds like an exasperated sigh on Miguel's end. He busy…Maybe you should tell him never mind, you're the one who decided to watch horror movies alone and-

“Okay, I will be there shortly.” 

Well that took zero convincing, “O-okay, see you then”

-click-

——-

Making sure to pick up your living room a bit you anxiously await for Miguel to arrive. The random tapping has stopped but you're still walking apprehensively through your home. Turning back on your lights you continue to watch the movie trying to distract yourself but you feel your hands getting clammy and anxiety rising. Were these movies just getting to you? Or Is there stuff happening? Worse than that, Is Miguel going to think you're crazy? 

Checking your phone every couple of minutes waiting for a call or text from Miguel. He said he would be here shortly but it feels like forever, where is he? Having nervously eaten all your popcorn you go to make another bowl. Throwing the bag in the microwave you start the time and think about how you just saw this same situation in Scream. Waiting patiently you're starting to think you're overreacting a bit. That tapping could be anything, maybe when Miguel gets here you two can laugh at this. He has the most amazing laugh…

Then a sudden thumping breaks your daydream. Frozen, you don't move a muscle, you don't even dare to breathe as you slowly move your gaze to the window where the tapping had been. But, the thumping noise is fainter, and it's almost like something hitting something on your windows. For a second you think, is someone egging me? You thought you could avoid that because you got the good candy. Is someone messing with you? Maybe this is all in your head? 

The thumping then turns into a window-rattling, like it's being pried open, your blood runs cold…

Eyes flicking around the room, your gaze gets glued towards the bathroom, and you clutch your cell phone tightly, is this happening…do I look? Absolutely not! Frantically you look at your phone. Where the hell is Miguel? 

Then the sound of your doorbell chime sounds like a saving grace. Quickly you rush to open the door, but it doesn't budge. Danm-

Fumbling with the lock you quickly swing the door open and there he is. Miguel O’Hara, in all his beautifully intimidating glory. God, you could just kiss him. You didn't even care that he was looking at you like you were insane. Without a second thought, you're pulling him by his shirt inside, slamming your door shut. Turning to him with wild eyes the hysteric words flying from your mouth.  

“Canyougocheckthebathroom, Iheardanoise and I’M Freaking out!” 

Miguel just looks at you baffled before he swivels his head around responding with a casual sigh. “Where's the bathroom?” 

Timidly you point down your dark hallway and Miguel instantly starts walking that way. Following close behind it takes everything in you not to cling to his jacket. Now you are usually a lot braver, but the oddness of the whole situation has you in a tissy.  

Miguel stops at the closed bathroom door, turning his head over his shoulder he points his index finger to the door in a silent question. Nodding with a yes he opens the door with a confident swing walking through. You're more apprehensive as you peer through the doorway holding your hands tightly to your chest. Looking through your bathroom it's completely normal, apart from the mountain of a man looking around at it. 

Turning to face you his chiseled face in a quizzical glare of ‘okay?’ 

Pointing to the window you meekly say “I thought I heard the window being opened..” 

Nodding Miguel parts the curtains to reveal a shut window, going the extra mile he even tries to open it but it's locked. Closing the curtains back he turns to you placing his hands on his hips.

“Anything else?”

Looking at the shower you nudge your head at it. Seeming to roll his eyes slightly he opens the curtain to reveal an empty shower, murderer free. Sighing, your tension starts to ease up, everything seems fine, other than you acting like a damn spaz.

“You okay scaredy-cat?” he says with a smirk. 

Rolling your eyes you're not amused by the nickname, “Yes I am fine, now can you give me a minute?”

Miguel shrugs with a smile and walks out of the bathroom, he turns like he's about to say something but you quickly slam the door closed, locking it.  Pressing your back to the door you run your hands through your hair and down your face feeling ridiculous. Nothing is here to get you…plus Miguel is here you need to get a grip.

After regaining your composure, doing your business, washing your hands, and maybe putting on some mascara and fixing your hair a bit, you finally exit the bathroom. Walking into your living room you are met with the sight of Miguel walking out of the kitchen, jacket removed, revealing a black tee shirt that does everything for his muscular physique; the cherry on top, he has taken your popcorn from the microwave and poured it into a bowl. -well just make yourself at home the O’Hara

Feeling a bit awkward you decide it's the polite thing to thank him, “Thank you for coming over and checking my bathroom…” 

Miguel nods plopping down on your couch and placing the popcorn on your coffee table, “you know, Maybe you shouldn’t be watching horror movies by yourself if you're just going to get scared by them” 

Touché-

“Well…That's why I have you, you get to be my bodyguard”  You say with a chuckle as you turn off your lights and slide down onto the couch next to him. 

“I don’t know, I was working before you called…” 

“Working?” This shouldn't be a surprise, of course, he was….”Well that's not a very fun Halloween” 

“And getting scared by cheesy horror movies is?” 

“Hey, At least it's festive, plus it’s not the movies that spooked me, some weird person was lurking around and this odd tapping, then the window…” 

As you speak you look up and see that Miguel is listening intently, hanging on to each word that leaves your lips, you can't help but feel your cheeks blush from his fervid stare. 

“I don’t know…maybe it was the movies…”

“I’ll stay”

“Huh?” You look at him confused 

Miguel casually grabs a handful of popcorn “I said I’ll stay, I don't have to finish that work right now and you seem genuinely scared, though I think you have just been watching too many movies niña” he playfully nudges you with his elbow and you nudge him back making him laugh causing you to blush again. 

“Plus…” he adds while dragging his eyes over your face, then down your body, studying your form for a moment “It will be..festive..” he looks back into your eyes and quickly averts his gaze to the movie, eating his popcorn casually. 

-------

This is not how you saw your evening headed, alone in a dark room with Miguel. Sure you have had the odd fantasy of this moment before but there was no TV playing, and there were also no clothes…the popcorn was still present though…

Trying to be engrossed in the film you can’t help but take your eyes away to look over at Miguel. Fidgeting around on the couch, Danm, you need to relax. Miguel is being a good friend and just trying to watch a movie he doesn't need to be ogled by you!  

As you continue to be at war with yourself your fidgeting and sighing must have gotten Miguel's attention. Because he’s then carefully wrapping an arm around your shoulder and bringing you in close. Feeling your face turn through three variations of blush you allow yourself to be pushed closer till your head is on his shoulder. Before you can even fumble with a response Miguel is speaking up. “You seem like you're scared…”

Not scared, just burning in desire for you, but I will take what I can get. “Thanks, Miguel.”

Completely ignoring the movie now, you don't even know what's on, you are just enjoying the closeness of Miguel's warm body. He might be the world's most cuddly man despite appearances. The best part was when a  jumpscare would suddenly happen, he would hold you tighter like he was trying to protect you. His calm rhythmic breathing and how his fingers subtly rubbed loose strains of your hair it was so calming. Calling him over was the perfect move, everything was going great. 

But there was something that just didn't make sense to you, “How come you're not at some kind of Halloween party or something?” you inquire looking up at his sculpted jaw. 

Miguel shrugs, moving his eyes away from the screen to look at you  “How come you're not at a Halloween party?” How come he can’t ever just give a straight answer-

Rolling your eyes you scoff “I’m not a fan of parties they tend to be overwhelming and usually kinda a letdown. Like I’m not going to go there and meet some sexy masked man to sweep me off my feet by fulfilling my every desire…” 

Miguel looks at you confused and you just giggle “Heh, I read a story about it once…Anyways I like staying home to pass out the candy, it’s fun getting to make the kid's night.” 

“You like kids?” he quickly asks. 

“Sure, I mean I want some of my own one day.” As you answer you look over at Miguel and you think you see a slight smile on his lips as you speak. 

“Seriously though, how come you weren't doing anything on Halloween?” you ask, trying to get the truth. “Didn't you get invited to go out?”

Miguel sighs, “Well yeah but, I’m like you, I don't like parties, horror movies are not my favorite, and kids don't trick or treat in my building, Plus…I was kinda waiting”

“Waiting? For what?” you say furrowing your brow at him.

“Well, I was waiting to see if you were going to invite me out” His sudden confession has your heart warming, and before you can get too mushy you slip out a laugh elbowing Miguel in the abs. “If you wanted to hang out you could have just called, you know?”

“I know, I guess I’m lucky you freaked yourself out so much you needed my company, scaredy-cat.” he teases leaning further into you and making your body warm.

“Hey! I was hearing and seeing things, Mister.” you poke his chest, almost hurting your finger in the process.

“Sure you were…” You and Miguel are both leaning pretty close by now, still laughing with each other. Then you two seem to notice the sudden proximity that has you both turning your heads quickly. 

Miguel and you continue your playful banter as you watch the movie. He complains how everything is predictable, proving his theories by telling you who will die and in what order, you call him a buzz kill and playfully pinch his sides as he continues to ruin the movie. Miguel meets your pinching by doing it to you, this quickly escalates to a pinching war on the couch.

Lost in the playful fight you and Miguel feel the tension building around you until the ring of the doorbell cuts through the laughing. Sounds of excited laughter following the ring, you look to the door and smile at Miguel “Well, duty calls,” Miguel moves so you can slip past him, and you head towards the door. To your surprise, however, you notice that Miguel is following you. Looking at him confused he averts his eyes and places his hand on the back of his neck, “Thought I could help….” -what a cutie

Smiling wide you place the bowl of candy in his large hands. Swinging the door open you see a group of giggly kids eagerly holding out their baskets. They all go to sing out their Halloween phrase but suddenly stop with wide eyes and gasped expressions. 

Looking at them confused you wonder what has them looking so shocked till you turn your head and look at Miguel. With the lights dimmed down in your house and the porch light only hitting parts of his face he looks terrifying, also are his eyes glowing red? What?

The youngest kid dressed like a fairy starts to cry, turning to hug her mom's leg. The others are too scared to even move. Miguel, in his infinite wisdom in social cues, leans over slightly and lets out a simple question “What will it be? Trick or Treat?” 

Noticing the kids getting upset and equally the parents, you are quick to soothe things over. Flipping the door light on you makes it easier to see Miguel, making his faceless obscured, this seems to make the kids relax a bit and the moms and dad blush to see his strong physique and chiseled features. 

“Wow! Miguel, don't all these kids look great? Don’t you love the costumes?” You nudge Miguel with a smile trying to get him to smile back. 

Miguel, confused at first, doesn't understand, then lighting up he seemingly catches on “Oh yeah definitely all good, I like the Spider-Man” Miguel points to a kid who is dressed in the Blue and red vigilante outfit (A popular costume since the masked hero started saving Nueva York) the kid gives a thumbs up that makes Miguel smile that has everyone’s heart squeezing.

Finally with the kids more relaxed and the parents thoroughly flushed you crouch down, pulling Miguel with you to drop candy in the kid's bags. You take the time to ask each kid what they are and compliment the outfit. Miguel keeps his smile placed as he watches you with the kids. He seems to enjoy this. Finally, with all the kids giving their sweet rewards you and Miguel wave bye.

Nudging him in the side you get his attention “Try not to scare the kids huh?” 

Miguel rolls his eyes “I didn't do it on purpose.”

Miguel walks back inside towards the movie and you go to reach for the light, but some sudden movement catches your attention. It looks like someone or something running down the side of the neighbor's house. Stepping out into the night air you look and see if you can see it. Inching closer and closer you're trying to catch a glimpse but then the sound of a playful scream down the road makes you jump. Looking back you see a father lifting his daughter and tossing her into the air making her scream and giggle. Taking a breath to calm yourself, you head back inside. Not seeing that the bushes have been rustling…

———-

Settling back onto the couch you are happily eating away at your candy. Trick-or-treaters are heading home for the night leaving the rest of the treats for you to enjoy. Miguel's eyes are focused on you as the candy slips past your lips. 

“I can’t believe you actually can sit here and eat all that sugar” 

You side-eye Miguel “Oh let me guess you don’t eat candy?” Probably not have you felt his abs in that shirt, completely solid-

“I just, haven’t had any that I like” 

“Well, do you not like sweet things?” 

Miguel looks at you for a moment like he wants to say something but quickly changes his mind “It depends…” 

“Well here try this, it’s one of my favorites” 

Quickly unwrapping the candy you hold it up for Miguel to take, but instead of grabbing it from you he leans down and takes it with his mouth. 

Staring at him your thoughts seem to evaporate.- 

Wait, did I just…did he really…did I feed him chocolate?

Staring at Miguel you meet his gaze with wide eyes, is he…no! He probably just took it because he just really wanted the chocolate…

While you're consumed by your thoughts your eyes stay locked with Miguel, he looks nervous. Like he's also surprised that you fed him chocolate, but he was the one who leaned in and ate from your hand! He fed himself! 

Moving his eyes away for a moment he turns away and quickly swallows the candy, as he turns he seems like he wants to say something but instead his intense stare stays on your eyes. Feeling his arm on your shoulders move slowly to your hips curling tighter around you, a crashing wave of excitement washes over you. He slightly leans forward keeping his eyes on yours, it feels like you can’t breathe. 

Heart is beating a mile a minute, all your nerves are on high alert, brain feels like it's frying. His scent, his touch, his intense stare! Wait, are his eyes red again, must be the lighting. 

All of it is overwhelming. With ease, his large hand gently grabs your neck, bringing you closer to touch his plush lips to yours. Eyes shutting instantly you lean into the kiss, pressing yourself closer to his warmth. Seemingly groaning in surprise he leans more, parting his lips slightly to guide you through, mouth moving in tandem with him. Feeling the kiss deepen to a more intense passion you feel Your arousal ruining your panties and body heat reaching a fever pitch. 

Breaking from the kiss to get air you stare at Miguel's face as he catches his breath, he looks downright majestic huffing for air it drives you wild, tightening your thighs together. Taking everything not to pounce him you back up brain scrambling from the hot man panting at you.  

“I-is it Hot maybe I should o-open up my….Window! Yeah, open up my window!” Quickly you scramble to your window pushing past the curtains and lifting the window. The sudden cool breeze does nothing to cool your heated body. Standing there you take deep breaths to calm yourself, then large hands grabbing your hips make your attempts to calm down fail. Feeling Miguel nuzzle into your hair, then his breath fan against your neck has you almost moaning, you just can't help melting at his touch. 

“I’m sorry if that was too sudden, I just…I’ve been wanting to do that..” His arms wrap around you in a hug making you fall into pure bliss

“For how long?” you say breathlessly leaning into his hold. 

Humming Miguel thinks for a moment “About….five months now”

Your eyes shoot open and you turn around and swat his shoulder “You have liked me for five months and you haven't done anything about it!” 

Miguel takes your playful hits for a few more moments before catching your wrist and pulling you in close, “you know if you wanted to kiss me you could have?”

“What? No way, I have been leaving hints this whole time you needed to meet me halfway!” 

Miguel leans in closer, silencing your nagging with a kiss that you quickly fall into, playing with his hair as his hands roam over your body. Breaking away Miguel smiles down at you, “Is this meeting you halfway?” 

Giving a slight pout you look at him with doe eyes “All I'm saying is that we could have been doing stuff sooner if you would have done something.” 

Miguel quickly lifts you kissing you passionately carrying you blindly to the bedroom, when you feel your back hit your bedroom door you break the kiss looking down at his smirking face. “Well let's make up for lost time, shall we?” 

Fumbling with your doorknob trying to open your door, but he swiftly moves your hand, opening the door in a fluid motion. Unable to contain your desires, you feverishly pull on his shirt while his hands fumble with your leggings. Once his shirt is off you take a second to admire his body he just chuckles at you before he's undoing his pants, while taking your top off you watch as his cock springs out from its confines slapping against his abdomen. 

Now fully exposed to one another he can't help but lick his bottom lip taking in all your soft curves. You're equally hypnotized by his monstrous phasic and the massive length that causes your legs to shake. Seeing your nervousness he's quick to relax you. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel good.” Running his hands all over he gets behind you and walks you to your bed. Pushing you against the bed you're falling on the plush mattress on your hands and knees. 

Miguel's large digits can be felt spreading open your wet folds, you can only whimper as he runs his other finger up and down teasing you. 

“Danm, you're so wet…” 

Before you can give a rebuttal you feel him lick a long strip up your cunt. All you can do is let out a squeak as he ravenously eats your pussy, licking at your slick walls. All you can do is drop to your elbows moaning his name, as he hums and prods his tongue in your quivering slit. 

Finally needing to break for air he moves away, his warm breath fanning over your wet cunt making you squeeze your legs together. Turning your head over your shoulder to look at Miguel and you almost cum right there. He's panting like a damn animal as a mixture of your arousal and his spit coat his chin in a shining sheen. The most alarming thing is that his eyes are blown out in hungry lust “Miguel…” you whimper his name breathlessly. 

“Sorry hermosa, you're just so sweet..” with that he's spreading you open and back to eating your pussy like a starved man making you approach your high. Feeling your body reaching its peak you grind your hips into his face making him latch onto your swollen clit, sucking and twirling his tongue on it. 

“Oh my god! Miguel! Ah!” 

Knowing exactly what he's doing he leans in, humming onto your clit more, sliding two fingers into your slick cunt. moving his fingers in slowly he's spreading you open to accommodate every enticing inch. Once he's knuckle deep he starts pumping his large fingers in and out. Practically drooling now from his pumping plus the hungry licking and sucking of your clit you feel in bliss. It's not until Miguel is letting out a low groan into your cunt that you start seeing stars. 

Trying to squirm away you try to prevent what's about to happen but Miguel grabs a hold of your hips not allowing you to move, continuing his low groans and deep pumping. The white-hot rush washes over you and all you can do is scream his name as you cum, Miguel not wanting to waste a drop of your sweet essence quickly licks and sucks every drop from you, helping you ride your high on his face. 

Coming down from your high you feel Miguel's large hands squeezing your waist, “So good for me baby, so fucking sweet..” 

Before you can even fully get back to your senses Miguel is Pulling you up to press your back to his chest, “now keep being my good girl and ride me..” he growls into your ear. 

Laying down on the bed he steadies your hips as you grab his massive length angling it to tease your slit. His hot tip feels so good teasingly poking at your slit. Looking over your shoulder your eyes fall to Miguel, he looks like he can't take any more of your teasing. Grabbing your hair he roughly pulls making your back arch suddenly “Fucking ride it,” 

Slowly lowering yourself on his cock you feel the stretch making your toes curl, Miguel's large hands rub soft circles on your hips as you stretch yourself full. You're unable to help your mewing of his name as you fully press down to take him all. Not even moving yet your eyes are rolling at the way his tip is already nudging your cervix. Miguel continues to rub his hands up and down your back cooing sweet nothings about how you're such a good girl, his good girl. 

Feeling him throb in you, you're ready for more so you slowly start raising your hips and bringing yourself down, with each motion your cunt clenches down on him savoring the stretch. Once you're accommodated to his size you pick up your pace moving faster and pushing him in deeper, his hot tip has you losing your mind. Grabbing onto your breast pinching and twisting your buds, you're losing it moaning and crying out his name. 

Egged on by your enthusiasm Miguel grips your hips and thrusts deeper, “That's my girl, take it, baby, ah fuck, my cock is yours” 

“Its mine..ah fucking mine” you cry out bouncing faster 

You start to feel the coil in your stomach tightening, feeling your body heating up to a fever pitch. Miguel is right with you approaching as high as he thrust harder cock throbbing and heating to a mouth-watering burn. Grunts falling on deaf ears you're too lost in the chase or your second orgasm, your only focus is to milk him dry, to feel his thick seed fill you. 

The chase gets halted when suddenly Miguel is leaning forward kissing the back of your neck, hooking his arms under your knees. Locking his hands behind your head, the contorting has him fucking your pussy impossibly deeper, his breath is ragged as he moans, “I'm going to ruin this fucking pussy!”

“Fuck! Ruin me miggy!” You didn’t need to ask him twice he's fucking you hard, his in your stomach at this point. The arousal from your cunt is dripping down to your ass as he just takes full control over you. Chest feels on fire as you gasp from his pace which shows no sign of relenting till his cumming deep inside you.   

Practically there you feel your coil about to give, and then Miguel slows his strong thrust to a stop, his breath getting quiet. Turning back to whine at the sudden loss of friction you hear it too…the sound of your living room window sliding up. Still caged in his grip from the Full Nelson you can only look up in horror, your house is being broken into! You weren’t paranoid! 

Miguel slowly releases you from his hold and gently slides out of you moving you to the side of the bed. You can’t help the slight moan you give from not being full of him anymore. Miguel stands up and looks at you placing a finger to his lip reminding you to be silent, his intense eyes looking like they shine red. Quickly following his silence demands you cover your mouth with your hands. 

Slow footsteps can be heard walking through the house and your eyes widen. Who was in here? What is happening? 

Miguel slowly and steadily puts his pants on (disregarding his underwear) and you wrap yourself in a robe. Miguel goes to open the door of the bedroom but you quickly grab his hand to hold him back. Looking up at him with pleading eyes you try and urge him not to go out there, it’s dangerous he could get hurt. 

Without words, Miguel places his hand on your cheek and gives a soft kiss to your lips, a reassurance that everything will be okay. You hate how much it calms you at the moment but can’t help how you surrender to it. 

Miguel goes to open the door but it’s too late, the door flies open and you see a masked intruder dressed in all black. Screaming in terror you hide behind Miguel’s tall stature. To your surprise the intruder also screams when you are, jumping backwards they pin themselves to the wall. Wait? What kind of intruder jumps in surprise? As you shake in fear and confusion Miguel just stares daggers at the person. 

Before you know it the intruder is cussing and running towards the door but Miguel is not having it, he pursues the intruder in a quick sprint. It was honestly a pathetic sight, the intruder scrambling to unlock your front door while the monster of a man Miguel goes to grab him. 

After successfully slipping through the door the masked person starts running down your driveway. However, they were not quick enough, with an incredible force Miguel grabbed the masked person’s shoulder and slammed them to the ground in one swift motion. With the way he swiftly maneuvered it was like Miguel has done it thousands of times. 

Thoroughly pissed off Miguel lifts the now limp figure in the air. Now seeing the comparison between the two you see how the guy didn’t even stand a chance to Miguel, in fact, the figure now seems to be quite slender. Carefully you approach Miguel and the figure. 

 in an animalistic growl, Miguel finally speaks. “What are you doing breaking into y/ns house…” 

The figure lets out a whimper of “Who?” the continues in a pathetic plea,  

“Please sir don’t kill me,” Sir? What? That’s not how intruders sound. Miguel lifts the mask off the person's face to reveal a young man probably a freshman in high school looking like he’s about to pee himself. The young man turns to you with desperate eyes. 

“Ma’am, can you tell your husband to put me down?” Okay, not my husband but I’m not going to correct them. 

“Um, first you need to explain why you were breaking in before I call the police “ 

The kid lets out a whine  “Please don’t! it was just a stupid prank, I was supposed to scare Kenny Crain.” The kid's face flushes and starts to cry

Looking at them confused, you ask, “Kenny Crain?” 

The kid sadly nods and Miguel’s grip tightens, You continue “No Kenny Crain lives here?” Gesturing to your house. 

The kid's tears stop and he looks at you in shock “wait this isn't 945?”

You shake your head “This is 925” 

The kid stops crying and looks to a nearby bush “TYLER YOU FUCKING IDIOT! You scoped the wrong house!” 

A bush rustles before letting out a pathetic “sorry-“ 

Miguel drops the teenager from his grasp to the ground, he makes a sit-down motion with his hand and the teen eagerly obeys. 

With long strides, Miguel goes to the bush and plucks the other teenager out lifting him by the collar and placing him next to his friend. 

Watching as Miguel scolds the teenager you feel a smile creep across your face and that same tingly feeling in your stomach, Miguel O’Hara your hero. 

Walking over you grab Miguel’s arm causing him to fall silent from his reprimanding of the two teens. 

“Miguel, I think they learned their lesson.” You look at the two pathetic-looking teens and they nod urgently. 

Miguel stares at the two young men again, not over what they did “You two, go home and don’t ever do anything like this again. Or else….” 

With that the teens start scrambling and apologizing, running off into the late Halloween night. Your eyes fall to Miguel, his bare chest heaving as he watches the boys run off in irritation, he looks gorgeous. Miguel had come to protect you again, it’s only right you repay him. Sliding your arms around his waist you press soft kisses to his warm body. 

Tease muscles begin to relax with each passing kiss from your soft lips. Swiftly he turns around and looks down at you. You thought he looked fantastic during the day right now he looks damn ethereal. A soft kiss is pressed to your lips, it's caring and full of passion. 

Slipping his tongue past your lips you suddenly feel the night air grazing across your ass as Miguel lifts your robe before his warm hands come to grip you rear, making you whimper. 

Breaking the kiss in one fluid motion Miguel scoops you from your feet and carries you into your home. The kiss becomes hungrier with each passing moment, and before you know it you're crashing onto your sofa with Miguel over you caging you beneath his hard body. Moans escape your lips as he gropes your body, his hands quickly undo your robe, then quickly grab a hold of your breast to play with your sensitive buds, his tongue drags over them coating them in his saliva.  

Pulling away you look at him with blown-out eyes buckling your hips uncontrollably toward him, it's like your in heat. Chuckling softly he bites his lip and he starts to undo his pants, you're still shuddering with anticipation when his cock springs out. 

“You didn't want to go back to the bedroom?” you ask in a shaky breath, holding your hands out to him. Did you want to go back to the room, no you just want to tease him. 

Grabbing a hold of your hands he leans in placing kisses on your fingers and your knuckles before he pins them over your head. 

“I thought you wanted to finish your silly horror movie marathon,” he coos

Grabbing his length with the free hand he slaps it against your aching cunt causing you to jolt your hips up with a quick moan. Proud of himself for the reaction he gets from you he continues as he rubs his cock through your wet folds to gather your arousal, 

“figured we could multitask.”  

With that he slowly seathes himself into your wet heat, your moaning and clawing in back relishing in that fullness you're sure to get addicted to. Miguel can't help but throw his head back at how your pussy sucks him in tightening around him instantly and he's not even fully in yet. Miguel just keeps pumping his hard cock through your velvety tight walls, watching your brain get hazier with each thrust that kisses your cervix, keeping at this you're sure to forget to even breathe let alone watch a movie. 

The Tv seems like a faint buzz between the sounds of Miguel's thrusts and grunts married with your whimpering pants and squelching pussy. The TV catches your attention for a single moment -” Don’t go away, we are playing all Your horror favorites till the witching hour!” 

Miguel grabs your chin and brushes his thumb across your wet lips, a mischievous smirk on his lips makes your sex tighten on him, “Looks like we’re in for a long night baby.”

#across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel spiderman #spider man 2099 #spiderman #atsv fanfiction #atsv #spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv smut #miguel 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o hara #miguel fanfic #halloween fic #halloween #halloween smut

[meamiiikiii]

a star being appeared in your apartment, wdyd?

(aka loop getting reverse isekaied into the modern office au)

also there are some scattered mumblings on loop in this AU under the cut if anyone's interested (spoilers for all of ISAT, including 2hats!)

vvv

TLDR - The Universe keeps fucking with Loop and they are not really happy about it, regardless of timing.

While I haven't decided anything 100% concrete for Loop, the idea of a reverse isekaied Loop in general is interesting to me, so I'll be exploring that a bit here. Especially in terms of timing on when Loop gets taken out of their timeline. At least in terms of immediate outlook within this AU. So, for now, have a couple of those thoughts! 

---

The two main points in time I am currently considering are the following:

1. From when they gave up their original wish and made a new one.

In this instance, I feel like their arc would play a bit similar to in game

Seeing this new world as different & peaceful

Since they don’t have to deal with the loops anymore, just watch whatever happens.

Be a lil silly for funsies! The chaos that can ensue with a star being existing within a modern world! 

Even though it hurts to see Siffrin’s team hanging around, they really don’t have anywhere to go at the moment (hard to hide a star being in this type of world)

To a slow realization of how unfair this whole situation is. In comparison to all of the horrors they went through, this Siffrin has it so easy.

This Siffrin gets to live an idyllic life, free from the world calamity of being frozen & the literal time loop.

This Siffrin gets to freely hang around their family team, with no foreseeable "end" to being with them in sight.

This Siffrin had their original wish, the wish Loop wanted granted, handed to them on a silver platter. 

This Siffrin, nor anyone in this world, would ever be able to come close to understanding what Loop went through; Loop would never truly be seen in this world, not fully anyway.

What does The Universe have against them, to put them into this world and make them witness all of this?

It should have been them, with this carefree type of life, given all they went through.

2. AFTER the fight with Siffrin.

This leans a bit more lighthearted than the last, since Loop would have gone through all the development from the game via convos + the talk at the very end with Siffrin, and has a bit more peace about their whole deal.

Perhaps they would still see the same conclusions as above, since healing from the horrors would not happen all at once, if ever, with additional flavor

Underlying bitterness in why the script is still going. 

Why is The Universe asking for them to continue into a new world and role?

Haven’t they had enough, once making them witness another Siffrin’s loops and perfect ending, and now a completely idyllic Siffrin’s life from the get go?

However, there is also a bit of hope in the entire situation. Since if The Universe keeps deciding to fuck with them (as in, sending them to different world lines) there is still, technically, the chance of going backward as well.

To their original timeline and to their family.

Once could have been a one-off, but twice?

Perhaps three world jumps might be the minimum to go back, following standard wishing rituals?

More hope in this one from the get-go, with that thought in mind.

---

Though there are probably other points in time that would be interesting too! 

Another one I was considering was RIGHT BEFORE the fight with Siffrin, perhaps even mid-fight. However, I don't think that makes much sense for this particular AU ASAFASFASDAS. Can you imagine if Loop just spawned into this world, doesn't realize this is a completely different Siffrin, and attacks on sight?????

Honestly the idea of a reverse-isekaied Loop into different AU's in general is neat, would love to see other people's takes on it!!  Especially cuz of the various reactions/conclusions Loop could have/make based on the scenario/circumstances would be interesting, if that makes sense. At least I think there is something in that thought? I dunno!

I feel like I am missing some characterization bits in here, but that was the main gist of it for now since I cannot remember LMAO.

Mumblings over, thanks for reading my silly thoughts if you got this far!!!

#in stars and time #isat #isat spoilers #isat siffrin #isat loop #yea loop is cursing but it is censored with stars #since i thought it would be a little bit funny #if i keep drawing for this AU i should prob come up with a better name than “modern office AU” LOL #which will prob be the case since i have a couple more silly ideas in my back pocket #and other characterizations for others i want to explore a lil #but i also have other ISAT drawings i want to get to so it might be a bit before i get through all that ASDFASDAS #also i will gladly take additional suggestions for doodles #since those are always fun!!! #i could prob mumble on about various thoughts for the others in this AU but like #right now everything is still a bunch of mildly incoherent headcanons in a trenchcoat with a very vague plot #and i am very much not a writer cuz words are hard!!!! #but at the end of the day this AU will mainly be silly office shenanigans #with a bit of character spice for flavor every once in a while LMAO #okay tag talk over oops #reverse entry au #reverse isekai loop au

[catty-words]

thoughts about wallsocket (2023) that i know you were all itching for because i've obviously convinced you all to be as head over heels for this artist as i am:

- the first listen felt a little draggy and i thought the busyness of the tracks was unfocused, which i was prepared to be bummed about because that's an element of underscores' music that i really enjoy for reasons both straightforward (sounds make brain go brrrr) and deep (as an artist, i think her preoccupation with distraction and having to be the Shiniest to hold attention - individual or cultural - really complements the production style). but!

- the good news is i fell so fucking hard for every track by the second listen and i think the inertia i felt was mainly between 'duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh' and 'you don't even know who i am' and by my third or forth listen, i was finding them the most engaging tracks on the album.

- good luck being the album's mantra makes me want to suffocate on velvet idk. in context, it's as dark as the whole of boneyard aka fearmonger (2021) but there's also a through line in underscores' work of her being exceptionally lucky (see "lonesharks", "horror movie soundtrack") and it feels as much like a helpless platitude as it does like a magical spell she's casting to keep us safe. which - themes!! and things/people/circumstances being so much of one thing they loop back around to being that thing's polar opposite.

- speaking of, the johnny of "johnny johnny johnny" validating the narrator's identity while also preying on her is my favorite vehicle for that theme so far.

- "shoot to kill, kill your darlings" is the first track i fell head over heels for, on the first listen and everything. and i keep getting more out of it with subsequent listens. think of me when you listen to this one, please. 💙

- when the "kinko's field trip 2006" hit???? reader i got CHILLS. literally shivered about it and it got me on listen two and three, as well. i don't think i've fully grappled with what its incorporation into wallsocket (2023) is trying to accomplish, but i do know it worked on me, like, a little too well. gonna be insane about it for the foreseeable future, gnashing my teeth as i type this in fact.

- i've had "cops and robbers" since it was released in may and somehow it wasn't until listening today that the full story really sunk in? like, i managed to hear i resurrect the dead and i'm not the bad guy, like it's just sitting there fully for the first time today? and, god, was the good luck-ing always in the mix? songs gaining new meaning in the context of their albums my beloved. album openers my beloved.

- does "you don't even know who i am" sample claptrap from borderlands? if not, that's still what the backing mantra on the track puts me in mind of, which gives the song a very compelling 'people vs technology' read that i've been getting a lot out of.

- underscores, i am pledging my allegiance to you.

#you have not seen the last of me going bozo bozo bozo about this album promise #wallsocket (2023) #underscores #general music tag #more excited than ever to see her on 10/3!!!!!!

[sleepy--anon]

Day 6: Chase

You can still reserve unmarked days

Please check my writing list before you request

Reblog first, like later please, reblogs do more

Warnings: Intense tickles

Thanks @wishitweresummer for your help :)

Sapnap streamed a horror game today, he told both boys in advance. Dream went to see his family so he didn't disrupt, George however had other plans. Unbeknownst to the brit, Sapnap had recently ended his stream, so hearing his door open was expected, he thought he knew he ended and wanted to hang out, so when he turned around he was surprised to find George in a large white sheet. He began making that little 'ooooo' noise, blindly finding the light switch, flicking the lights on and off.

"George~" He drew out, George froze, recognizing that tone, he pulled the sheet over his head, seeing that his screen was off, meaning he could actually do something in retaliation now.

"...Oh" George ditched the sheet on the floor and bolted out the door. Sapnap gave him a few seconds before sprinting after him, Sapnap was much faster than George, he was the fastest. He caught up relatively quickly, George screeching when he heard the pounding footsteps getting louder. The two ran in circles around the kitchen counter, eventually, Sapnap grew impatient, clearing the counter and landing infront of George. He tried skidding to a stop, but ended up sliding right into his arms.

"Yeah, we're done running now George, stop delaying the inevitable~" George wiggled in his hold, yelping when he was effortlessly tossed over his shoulder. He covered his face in embarrassment, being casually carried to the couch. He couldn’t even try to get away, he bounced aggressively from the drop and Sapnap had him pinned before he could process not being over his shoulder anymore. He attempted the puppy eyes, seeing them work on Sapnap most times when it was Dream, even adding a little pout, earning an eyebrow raise from Sapnap.

"It was just a joke Sap, come on, do we really have to do this?" Sapnap scoffed at the fact that George thought he could talk his way out of this. Both of George’s tiny wrists fit snuggly in one hand, already curling his other hand into a fist, causing George to curve himself away from him.

"Its cute that you think you're getting away with this~" Sapnap pressed his knuckles against his ribs, feeling his rapid breathing.

"I didn't know this would be the outcome! Please! Have mercy on me Sapnap please!"

"Mmmm~ No~" He pretended to think about it for a few seconds, waiting for George to relax. Flashing his bright smile at the ravenette before rubbing his knuckles into his ribs, no matter how he moved he couldn't get away from them. Both boys knew this was the most unbearable thing anyone could to George, his face impossibly red, his hysterics was mostly screaming, tears streaming down his face in seconds, drenched in sweat. Sapnap has plans on giving him little breaks but George was gonna be going through this for the foreseeable future.

#lee!georgenotfound #lee!george #ler!sapnap #augtickletober2023 #dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #mcyt tickle fic #sleepy's fics

[sushywritez]

The Call | Eddie M. X Fem!Reader

Summary: A night at home takes a turn for the worse when you and Eddie have an odd encounter with an anonymous caller.

i got this idea after watching a few horror movies and thought maybe it would be fun to experiment with some ideas using Eddie, because this man is final girl material m'kay so, please enjoy. of course if there is anything you'd like to see horror or fluff wise let me know.

There was no foreseeable end to the torrential downpour. It had been raining for days and it made for a rather slow day. However, this was a constant reminder of how much you needed to pack up and leave. A small town with hardly anything to show for, mediocre jobs, zero support and horrible pasts. Life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, but Indiana wasn't the home you wanted. Even if you’d lived in the shitty town of Hawkins most of your life, some good had came from it so you held off.

You had made some friends by scoring a job at Family Video, thanks to Robin. She was the first true friend you had, but you couldn't have her without Steve Harrington. He used to be the showboat type flexing and flaunting his parents money to any girl he saw. The man that could flirt with anything that moved yet he was somehow different. He grew on you too. Naturally you became a die-hard trio until you met there other friends. Dustin and the crew of children that hung around were a delight.

Things were starting to get back to normal and then one day changed everything. You had met Eddie. He was so proud to be himself unlike most men he was honest. Wearing his heart out on his sleeve. You still remember the day the you met. Having dropped by the video store after one of his shifts to return a couple of forgotten. The man was a massive flirt, but he was surprised that you returned the playful banter. It was like a game. One that had gone on for several months before he asked you out.

Another two before it was official and by another year Eddie had surprised you with an apartment. One you two shared and enjoyed, but were really interested in a house.

However, it wasn't exactly affordable. So for now you were content with the small space you both shared.

The sound of jingling had yanked you right from all the thinking, followed by the sound of a creak and shuffling footsteps. “Baby?” 

Oh, Eddie was home. You’d been so busy with all the housework and caught up in your thoughts that time was just irrelevant. 

“In the living room!" You call out to him.

Eddie works off his boots kicking them aside, “Hard day, baby?” He asks, shrugging off his jacket, no doubt soaked from the rain.

“Not really.” You reply reaching down into the basket once more. “Just been doing laundry and cleaning up around the house. Plus you’ve got clothes to sleep in now.” You joke and he chuckles.

"Perfect. I'm gonna shower." Eddie waltzes down the hall passing you on the way. However halfway he stops. "You wanna join?" The smirk that curls his lips upwards is undeniable and you know exactly what he'd been implying to.

However it'd hard to ignore him, so you give in, "Alright, just going to finish this last shirt." You instruct and although it may have been cruel to make such a pretty man wait. Like the child he was Eddie cheered.

You folded the shirt neatly and set it aside in a pile, before pushing yourself off the couch. Only to be stopped by the phone.

Eddie's voice calls from down the hall, "Babe you coming?"

You curse the caller in your head. "Yes, just a minute. It might be Robin." Of course Eddie groans. He's a desperate man right now.

You giggle and reach for the phone, not even to bother with checking who it was. Lifting up the phone to your ear you smile.

"Hello Robin." A smile that could be felt through the phone. Eddie had made a point to tell you that many times his favorite thing was to see you smile. "I was wondering when you were gonna call me I-"

"Hello,(Y/N). You're looking lovely this afternoon."

"Who's this?"

"You'll find out soon enough. For now enjoy your shower."

Taglist:

@yaspillz @dahliamae @capricornrisingsstuff @aysheashea @e0509 @off-phelia @strangerthingsstories5255 @fujiihime @puppy-coded @damon-loves-pie @seratoninsickness @k0urti @thatlonelypieceoftoast @phantomxoxo @wittlewowa @rollergirlworldwide @allithewriter @gothguitargal @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @ali-r3n @harrys-tittie @yearwalker96 @lipglossanon @thepastdied @jessevans @dullsocietyy @littlelimb @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @3rriberri @corroded-hellfire @munson-blurbs

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #x reader #steve harrington #thriller #billy harringrove #eddie munson x f!reader #steve stranger things #robin stranger things #robin buckley #horror writing #horror stories #the call sw

[jenyifer]

Only friends 8/10 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

About a group of friends and the destruction of that friend group in a web of lies betrayals and revenge. The music and sets are beautiful amazing I literally listened to every song they carefully choose for each scene it was genius. Every character was morally grey and complex. Really showed queer stories. I’m a lesbian and there was many many times I could see my own life experiences in the characters. You will find a character to relate to and many of them you will fall in love with for whatever reason. The acting was fantastic ForceBook FirstKhaotung NeoMark deserve all the recognition and awards for their performances. I was surprised at the realism and twists the story took which is very rare for me I have to watch sci-fi horror films at home because I’ll guess the ending and get bored but who would have guessed a Thai Bl would stump me multiple times. I won’t change BostonNick’s story line to me their scenes even with being cut short with what feels like major parts missing is a 10/10. A real journey of the heart and I was hurt and also in love with the conclusion. The series is worth watching again and again for them.

Now…. You’ll notice it isn’t a 10/10… I’m going to get honest with you after the break. So If you don’t want my critique then leave.

I’m going to talk about my grips and how I’d fix them now and why I can’t I’m good conscious forgive these things.

1. Loss of the each episode for a character like the interviews or social media. I felt like these would have given us another angle on those boys. I understand they were trying to edit for the fans but… it is extremely sad. The first 4 episodes are perfection in my opinion.

2. Cheum is terrible lesbian representation. She’s a terrible character. I hate to think this is what queer men think lesbians are. She disappointed me over and over. I’d rather her not be in the story at all.

3. The glossing over of Boston’s torture throughout the series. Mew Cheum and Ray should have apologized to him. I wish Mew and Ray had been better friends in general I felt like I wanted to see the trio trying to incorporate eachother in their lives before the final episode. I wanted to believe at some point they cared for eachother. I wanted them to miss Boston when he was gone and to be guilty for what they fucking did.

4. Top and Mew terrible pairing. Mew is my least favorite character of all time. I have alot to relate to mew on. But he never became a character I could root for. Vindictive and Spiteful. I don’t know if he loved top or not. I don’t foresee that relationship lasting. I liked Top but you could see the bland oatmeal coating they gave him half way through I want the messy angry boy. I did want him to gain happiness but I doubt mew could ever give it to him. I will forever skip their boring scenes I’m glad I no longer have a reason to watch them. To fix this I would have made Mew nosey supportive into Ray and Boston’s lives just him being able to have long term friends would have made his character seem like he was capable of affection. To fix the TopMew scenes? Idk they always felt uneven Top tried so hard Mew was never punished for what he did. Mew became a worse person so maybe reverse that.

5. SandRay I love them I truely relate to Ray so deeply. However the way Ray treated Sand over and over wasn’t right. I hated it. His apologies to sand rang hollow he didn’t back them up. Sand adores Ray and I wish Ray adored Sand just as much but that’s not true. I have hope Ray would mature though.

Over all to fix things I would have given it more episodes there was clearly scenes missing structure that should have been there. I think the problem was the ships had to be so segmented from eachother. Top and Mew could have benefited from more of them interacting with Ray and Cheum. The actual friendship bonds explored would have helped. I also wish they hadn’t swept Bostons revenge P and expose account under the board. Ray having real change in attitude towards sand would have been rewarding as well. I hope there is a season 2 so badly. I have to see BostonNick get their healthy happy ending too.

#only friends the series #ofts #only friends #thai bl #bl review #Jenny’s watching #bl recommendation #only friends episode 12 #ofts ep12 #ofts meta

[bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus]

Adapting The Devil and Abrahamic Concepts

Note: This following post is not intended to dismantle or bash anyone's beliefs, all that is said is not intended to cause fear or anger in anyone who is of any of these faiths. What I say is not an indication of my alignment with any faith or ideology, this post is just a little, and slightly philosophical, ramble.

Oh, and as per usual, I am terrible with grammar and silly mistakes are bound to be in this so I'm sorry in advance!

Now that's out the way, on with the ramble!

So... whilst I'm following the Mandela Catalog closely with my eyeballs and also writing my own chaos (which I am currently in two minds about releasing tidbits of but that's a whole other kettle of fish), I realised something.

We need to explore Abrahamic concepts more often!

When you delve into the more esoteric and "deep" ideas within the various scriptures of the Abrahamic faiths, things get interesting and thought-provoking regarding humanity, incomprehension and purpose.

This is the part where I start talking about the Devil, because of course I gotta bring in the og Big Bad. I feel as though, this is gonna sound extremely bad pfft, he's severely underused in media. I say this because when you start getting into the research surrounding him, things start getting really, really bizarre.

First off, Satan is not a name, it is a title. Satan, or as I know him, Shaitan, is Hebrew in origin and means Adversary. It is a position, not inherently a name or identity, it's more like a part of an identity, like how a certain job can be a part of who you are but not necessarily all of you as a person. Satan is a position in this reality, not the name or identity of the entity who holds this title.

Now, why do I bring this up?

Well, some people have an issue with the existence of Satan and not just because he's evil, but because his existence doesn't make sense when you think of God. God is supposed to be all-powerful, all-knowing and all-good, but how can God be any of these things if Satan exists? God would have to not possess at least one of the aforementioned aspects; for example, if God let Satan happen because God did not foresee, then surely God is not all-knowing.

Which leads to the "theory" if you will, regarding the necessity of the Adversary. Without evil, there can be no good. So, the Adversary is needed, but is the Adversary aware of that?

If we go along the belief that Satan was an angel and the belief that angels have no freewill, which is more islamic but wahey guess I've outed my Muslim background, that means that Satan is essentially performing his function as he is not capable of choice.

However, time and time again, we have read that Satan is a rebel, which suggests that there was a choice that was made. So, I propose this, what if he has the illusion of choice?

Satan is in torment, yes, but it is not because of the horrors of Hell, but rather, the torment of trying to fight a battle you could never win. What if, like the cycle of Samsara, Satan is fighting to break free from his chains in angelhood and be free, hence either making himself human or a new god.

Imagine if the Devil is just a complex primordial force trying to be something simpler? Imagine the thing you feared the most, was just as scared himself?

Satan remains terrible, but he makes me think. He's this scary, primal force of nature that is somewhat human, or at least trying to be human, trying to be something he's not.

It reminds me of this quote Sotha Sil once said about Vivec from TES Online; "He wishes to be all things at all times. Every race, every gender, every hero. Both divine and finite... but in the end, he can only be Vivec."

Same goes here, perhaps Satan wants to be everything, angel, god, human, good, but he can only be the Adversary.

Abrahamic philosophy, from my understanding, is about acceptance and submission to reality, whether it be through one's worship or through acknowledgement of this alone. Submission isn't just about bending the knee, it's about submitting to yourself, your identity, to the deity who created reality and to the nature of that reality. It pretty much is the understanding of the fact you exist and you exist in this particular, human way. Again, this is my understanding and opinion and people will have their own ideas, so please note I don't represent anyone when I say this 😅 .

Satan cannot submit because he does not accept his identity. He goes against that very philosophy and we need that. Without that example of necessary rebellion, we would not be able to understand our own inner conflicts. For he represents conflict on the personal and cosmic scale.

And that conflict, the complexities of Abrahamic faith, predestiny, freewill, that really frightening fear Abrahamic faiths present when it comes to angels, Satan and God, are not explored enough.

Frankly, I think the show Lucifer really missed the opportunity to get weird and wonderful. They touched upon Satan and his relationship with God and the nature of his freewill or potentially lack thereof. However, they never really delved into it and I'm so sad about that, especially with the acting talent of Tom Ellis- we could have got some spicy stuff.

But that's also why I adore the Mandela Catalog. That godly horror of this cosmic creation crashing down on us like a ton of bricks with all its anger and fear is exactly what I have been yearning for in an abrahamic adaption. The world around us in the Mandela Catalog is falling apart because something which isn't God is trying to be, the Adversary is trying to be his own opposition and that dismantles his very sense of self.

And that is also what I want to do in my own writing, explore this creature of despair and horror and peel back the layers to see what lies under the title of Adversary. I want to know and explore what this entity is, what he is to himself and what he is to humanity, to those who are subject to his madness.

Satan is bad, but what is it to be the opposing darkness, when you can't be anything else?

This is just my hot take lol. But it's a hot take I've been mulling over for a while and I just needed to get out there :).

Thanks for reading my little diatribe!

#netflix lucifer #tom ellis #mandela catalogue #analog horror #ah yes writing #writing #sus gabriel #abrahamic religions #satan #lucifer morningstar #philosophy #thinking #small brain #brain dump #demons #alex kister #cosmic horror #i am sleep deprived #alright tumblr gobble this up!

[adamwatchesmovies]

Hereditary (2018)

Keen viewers will foresee the ending of Hereditary fairly early on. Having seen the film three times now, I’ve realized that's not a bug; it's a feature. The point is that you see the train coming but you can't move out of its way. With a superb performance by Toni Collette at its center, terrific, inventive cinematography and impeccable direction by Ari Aster (his feature-film debut), it's a joy to examine the filmmaking at work. It also happens to be horrifying.

Following the death of her estranged mother, Annie Graham (Toni Collette) attends a loss support group to try and cope. She’s been sleepwalking again and can't shake the feeling that something's... not right at home.

In class, Annie’s son, Peter (Alex Wolff) isn’t paying attention to his teacher's lesson, but he should be. The students are asked whether it’s more tragic for a hero to know they're doomed but be unable to change their fate, or be unaware of the misfortune awaiting them. This idea is what makes the ending of "Hereditary" work. There’s something about watching people slowly inching their way towards annihilation unsettling. With every passing second, you can feel the walls of their cage tightening. You’re an outsider, powerless to react and when the danger is as intense as it is in Hereditary, you’re glad to be nothing but an onlooker. In the most intense scenes, nothing could be more frightening than the characters turning towards you for help. Of course you would if you could. Annie, Steve (Gabriel Byrne), Peter and Charlie (Milly Shapiro) go through so much you don’t want them to suffer but your curiosity has also gotten the better of you. What’s coming will surely make your skin crawl and your hairs stand on end but you want to see just to be sure. Maybe things will go a different way. Or maybe they’ll go exactly how you expect they will.

Key images in the film fill me with dread just thinking about them. It makes me want to claw my eyes out so I don’t have to see them anymore, which makes me admire the filmmaking even more. The longer you look at this movie, the more things you notice. In many scenes there are symbols hidden in the background, there are things standing in the darkness, recurring images and foreshadowing telling you what’s incoming. It all ties back to that question posed to Peter. The more you see, the more you wonder whether you want the characters to know what you do or if you’d rather they stay ignorant of the doom that awaits them. The recurring theme of decapitation is on its own more than enough to give you the willies.

The performance by Toni Colette turns something you would normally passively watch into a reality you’re forced to confront. Her wails as she cries pierce your chest and wrap their fingers around your heart. Her panic as she pieces together what’s actually going on is palpable even if you don’t quite understand all of the “rules”. This film is quite good at giving you the minimum amount of information required and leaving the rest for your mind to fill in the blanks. If you're the king of person that won’t be able to sleep until you know everything that happened, don't worry. There are a few scenes that spell it out for you. Our lead is so good you’re likely to overlook how well everyone else does with their roles. Milly Shapiro, for instance. You’d never guess A) she was 15 at the time and B) that she’s a perfectly normal teenaged girl. Obviously they used prosthetics to make her look the way she does but she so subtly off you just don’t know what to make of her.

There are certain aspects of the film you could criticize. Hereditary is essentially a modern update on a couple of well-known horror films and a scene during the beginning makes it very easy for you to know this story’s final destination. This may detract from some of the fun but it certainly won’t take away the scares. In fact, it gets more intense, more terrifying upon rewatches because your eyes can focus less on what’s happening in the foreground and more on the stuff hidden in the margins. There’s a brilliant scene with a rolling ball every aspiring horror filmmaker needs to take note of. It's just one example of the many scenes ready to conjure up some recurring nightmares. (March 20, 2020)

#Hereditary #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #horror movies #horror films #Ari Aster #Toni Collette #Alex Wolff #Milly Shapiro #Ann Dowd #Gabriel Byrne #2018 movies #2018 films

[empty-masks]

Book Three, Chapter Nine

CW: Strong Language, Sexual References, Graphic Violence, Fantasy Bigotry, Smoking, Alcohol Use, Light Body Horror

There’s little conversation between the two mercenaries as they eat their lunch. Morning had been preoccupied with scouring Fusillade for supplies— at the top of their list was something to combat the literal firepower of that walking corpse, Meat. They eventually found someone who was able to procure a small amount of burn salve, as well as their medical supplies for the foreseeable future. Jules caught a severely odd look from the clerk when he asked whether they had any blood bags lying around, especially when he bore his fangs as an example for why.

    He now sits across from Lucille on a painted park bench, the seating for a local outdoor bistro, lightly cradling his side while sipping the blood he’d bought (placed into a glass from the bistro) through a straw. He hadn’t taken the time to preen this morning, and when his moustache tickles the rim of his class, it adds to an already overwhelming feeling of dirtiness. At this rate, he figures that he’s going to have to scrub pretty hard to get himself back to where he was.

    “Look,” he says, in an attempt to break the silence. “I’m sorry.”

    “You already said that,” Lucille responds. She takes a bite of her roast pork sandwich, not breaking eye contact. “And I already said that it’ll take more than that, Jules.”

    “Okay, shoot. Let’s talk about what that entails, then. Communication is key, right?”

    Lucille takes a long sip of her drink. “When I figure out what that is, I’ll tell you. Eat your lunch.”

    “I will in a second, just,” Jules looks down at his plate. It’s a pork sandwich as well, but when he checked the contents of it earlier, he found that she had ordered it with extra greens. There’s a handful of foods that vampire teeth don’t agree with, and leafy lettuces are up there with the best of them. “How about this. I’ll answer questions about the Carnevale thing. You want transparency, that’s transparency.”

    “Jules, shut up.”

    “Here’s one. I’ve been with them since before we left for Kiln. I had to keep it a secret from Piper mainly, ‘cause she was with Shepherd Gemstone,” he starts, motioning with his arms. “Here’s another. Remember Davey? Yeah, I’ve known him for years now. I knew he’d been living near Kiln, but I completely didn’t expect to run into him. I thought I was going to have to send you to la-la land when we walked in, since he’s one of ours. Thank god you didn’t clock him.”

Seeing no interruption from Lucille, Jules continues, “And, god, the reason we’re hunting that corpse? The capo wants them dead. They were one of our best, but they started to get insubordinate, so they got sent off on the Dragon hunt to go die for sure. But, the capo wanted some of us to go and check to see if they were actually dead.”

    Lucille leans over the table, slapping one of her hands over his mouth. She hisses, “I said shut up, Jules! Look around you!”

    What he finds is a group of well-dressed, broad-daylight gangsters a few tables adjacent at the venue, unknowing of their presence but definitely keen-eared, and definitely armed. Jules widens his eyes, and gently removes her hand from his face.  “Yeah, I know those guys! They’re with the capo, actually. Must be out on their lunch break.”

    “They don’t know me, though, and I don’t think I want to know them. Just be quiet. We can talk about this shit later.”

    At that moment, a voice calls out from that corner of the venue, “‘Eyy, Jules!” Lucille sits back down in her seat in a huff, and takes another angry bite of her sandwich. Her eyes read “You’re fucking this up again,” to the Vampire. Jules starts to sweat as he turns around on the bench, waving his free hand to the gangsters and giving them a greeting.

    A masculine figure, all slicked-back hair and expensive finger rings and surrounded by tough-looking folk in dark sunglasses, puts a hand to his forehead to confirm his suspicions. He wears an obnoxiously loud green and yellow, diagonally-patterned sports coat over a loose black blouse, and when he realizes it’s Jules, he beckons for the Vampire to come over proper. Jules holds up a finger in response, and turns back to his companion. “Lucille, they want to see us.”

    “They want to see you, Jules, not me,” she says.

    Jules points toward Lucille with a finger, and raises an eyebrow. The capo shakes his head “sure,” and beckons them over again.

    “He’s fine with it, don’t worry! Come on,” he says, standing up. “It’ll be weird if you don’t.”

    Lucille says nothing, but stands up from her meal and follows him over to the table, where she finds the group of gangsters to be all male, already a pitcher of fruity summer mixed drink in, and all annoyingly young. It’s impressive, really, how young some of them are, as usually it would take a couple years of existence for those who’d been Spawned to lose their innocence fully. When she looks at two in particular, she figures that they could have a couple decades before their Body Ages catch up with them. There’s a certain vigor behind their eyes that tips her off, puts her on edge. These are the kind of folk who wouldn’t know danger if they had a sword in their gut, and that’s not a quality you look for with long-term positions as gangsters.

    She finds herself clenching as Jules converses with them, trying to not look as upset as she is with him. He’s had all these friends, all this business going on this entire goddamn time, she thinks to herself. And his empty-headed ass didn’t think to key me in to any of it. Any of it at all.

“So, J,” the Capo starts, having sat back down on his bench. “You gonna introduce us to your pal here?” 

It’s not hard to tell what the gangsters might be thinking, and by the expression on Jules’ face, he doesn’t like one bit of it. Though, the capo seems to be looking at her a little differently, perhaps with a little more respect. Fuck it. Reap what you sow, she thinks again. “I’m Lucille, and we’re getting married,” she says, as confidently as she can.

Everyone at the table goes silent, and she shoots Jules a look so sharp that it could be considered telepathy in certain circles, saying directly into his mind, “If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, you’re going to regret it.”

She puts an arm around the Vampire, and continues to weave her lie.

“It’s been three years, but he finally popped the question,” Lucille says, pulling his cheek. “Feels like just yesterday we were on that security job, and he helped me sharpen my knives.”

    Jules is then flooded with cheers and congratulations from the gangsters, including the Capo, who though is clearly suspicious, decides to go along with what’s going on for now. The Capo stands up from his seat, walks over to where Jules is standing, and gives him a hearty pat on the back, looking him in the eye when he says,

    “So when’s the wedding?”

    “I don’t know,” he responds, looking to Lucille. “When is it?”

    “Oh, we haven’t worked it all out just yet. We were waiting for him to finish this last job before deciding,” she says.

    The Capo narrows his eyes. “Which job would that happen to be?”

    “The—” Jules starts.

    Lucille cuts him off, “I think he said something about cleaning up after a Dragon? It seemed pretty dangerous, if you ask me. Nothing he couldn’t handle, though.”

    “Yeah, that one.”

    “Right, and what’s the news on that? You were on that party from what I heard,” the Capo responds.

    “Well, the news is that they’re not dead,” Jules says, pointing to his side. “Turns out they know some kind of fire magic. Learned that the hard way, ‘cause they burned me pretty bad.” He frowns. “Sorry, boss.”

    The Capo’s face scrunches up in a mixture of concern, confusion, and disappointment. “Okay, you’re gonna have to rewind the tape on that one, pal,” he says. When he notices Lucille glancing back over toward their food, he pats Jules on the back again. “Later, though. Don’t wanna spoil the occasion with business, you know?”

    “Whenever you need me, boss,” Jules responds.

    “‘Course. It was nice meeting you,” the Capo says, waving the two of them off.

    The Vampire visibly deflates and follows Lucille back to the table, where she looks as though she wants to slap him with his sandwich instead of letting him eat it.

He moves to talk, but she holds up a hand, takes a bite, chews, swallows, and then finally lowers it.

    “Have fun explaining this to your boss. And how I don’t have a ring on,” she says. “He noticed, and he was about to drill you for it, Jules.”

    “Fuck.”

    “Yeah.”

==============================================================

The truck jolts Judith awake on a warm afternoon that would’ve been better spent in bed with the curtains drawn. She reaches up and rubs her face as another jolt comes, the heavy vehicle barreling down the road and Fusillade fading away, disappearing as the trees become less and less decrepit, returning to a more typical, rusty-hued canopy as they gain distance. Beside her in the truck’s cab is Cherry, who’s too busy focusing on the road to notice her, and on her other side is Olive, who hadn’t fallen asleep once during the entirety of their ride so far.

    She could kill for a decent conversation to eat the time, with how hard it is for her to stay asleep in this roaring monster. Glancing over her shoulder, she shoots a look toward the two in the bed of the truck, Leon and Azariah. They, too, are too focused to spare her a glance at the moment— Leon on the disappearing Fusillade, Azariah on the road itself as it stretched out behind them.

    “Next stop maybe you can sit in back with them,” Olive says quietly, only barely audible over the bubbling thrum of the engine. “I get it, it’s kinda cramped with the three of us in here.”

    “It’s not that, Olive. Don’t act like that.”

    The Owl looks past Judith toward Cherry, then focuses her large eyes on Judith. It’s a strange feeling to stare deep into eyes multiple times the size of your own, especially those of a large, potentially magic suffused avian. And then those eyes turn toward the folks in the back, her entire head turning to get a look, and then they’re back on Judith. “Maybe next stop Azariah’ll switch seats.”

    Judith blinks. “Why?”

    “Because you want to sit with Leon.” Delivery is flat. A matter of fact, not of opinion or surprise, just left her face.

    Judith shifts awkwardly in her seat, directing her own eyes down to her shorts rather than keep eye contact with Olive. “I don’t know what would make you say that. We’d just complain all the way to the next town.”

    “You two like complainin’,” she says. “More importantly, y’all like complainin’ together. It’s just about all you do. You did it even before we left and you’ve been doin’ it even more now that we’re on the run. When we have to split up, you complain, but you complain especially when you’re not saddled with Leon. I might be dumb, but I’m not that dumb, Judith.”

    “Never said you were. You just don’t give me a lot of faith with your whole anxiety schtick.”

    “It’s not a schtick. I’m attentive all the time, nervous as all hell, tryin’ to survive. That means, though, that I see a lot, hear a lot, and I connect dots. I don’t always connect ‘em right, of course, because sometimes I connect dots that shouldn’t be connected. Sometimes I screw up and connect dots that are entirely unrelated just because somethin’ vaguely implies they might be connected. Understand?”

    Judith’s lips purse, and then she shrugs. “I guess.”

    “No you don’t.” Olive leans in. “You don’t understand. You’re not used to survival situations, Judith. You ain’t trained for this. And that trainin’ has made me realize you and Leon—”

    “Whatever,” Judith interrupts. “Doesn’t matter, shut up. You can see whatever you want to see, I don’t care. I’ve got more important things to worry about, like whether or not Cherry’s going to crash this junkheap into a tree or if I’m going to be cut open by people I used to consider coworkers.”

        Azariah scratches the underside of his jaw and watches as the trees begin forming into a woody, orange blur on either side of the road. “Already told you Leon, Gutter’s Glade is our best bet short of headin’ to Cherry’s hometown.”

    “Right. Just checking. That was the plan from the beginning, right?” Leon asks, leaning back against the side of the truck bed, his vest taking most of the roughness from the wood. “And it’s not called Gutter’s Glade anymore, hasn’t been for years. They renamed it ‘Pickman’s Hope’ a while back for the optics.”

    Azariah’s head tilts to the side as he rubs a temple. “I suppose that’d be best, considerin’ the first name wasn’t exactly the cleanest sounding, regardless of whether you took gutter to mean garbage trench or somebody with a knife. I like the old name better, still. Tough name, tough town.”

    “It threw Shepherd out on his ass, allegedly. Back when I first tried to run, Pickman’s Hope was our goal, too. We thought it’d be our win condition.”

    “A fair assumption.” The Hare’s muzzle pulls into a smile. “Just about one of the safest places we could go, I think, but we run into a different problem there. While I know some folks up around the place, even some who’ve moved up in the world, we can’t really stay. Don’t think any of us really know a trade, and as tough as the town is, those folk followin’ us aren’t gonna try to set out for all-out war. They’re hunters, not strikebreakers, and while Gutters— Pickman’s Hope can handle a line of strikebreakers, it ain’t a place built to protect against anyone who’s only after a couple people. From what I’ve gathered, we’re safer from them with Cherry’s family further along.”

    “Agreed.” Leon rubs his jaw, fingers lingering on either side. “Family can be reliable. Sometimes.”

    “You even have a family to base that on or are you just basin’ that on Cherry?”

    “Do you, Azariah?”

    The old man laughs. “I slept around a lot before I met Roxanne, so maybe. We’ll call it a non-zero percent chance of me bein’ somebody’s papa. I think if I had any kids, though, they would’ve already come knockin’ at my door by this point. So, no, no family.”

    “No family here, either. Friends did, and it was useful. Never had anybody to rely on.”

    “What about yourself, Leon?”

    “If I could rely on myself, I would’ve gotten out the first time.”

    Again, the Hare laughs. “I suppose so! That’d be real unfortunate for us, I think. You’ve been a big help.”

    “If you get caught, I get caught. Can’t let that happen.” He shifts to sit forward a bit, heavy arms on strong knees. “Don’t oversell me, though. I’m not the one fistfighting men twice my size.”

    “You had the routes set up that got us out of there— and Judith’s more tolerable around your grouchy ass than she ever was on the job.”

    Leon’s face twists some as he brings one of his hands up to rub the back of his neck. “Let’s not talk about that.”

    “It’s not like she can hear us, Leon, truck’s too loud. Watch— Judith, Judith, Judith!”

    The both of them turn their eyes toward the cabin window, which was shut, and watch those inside.

    “Cherry, we asked you something.” Judith’s voice takes on a slight growl as the words slip between her teeth, which are looking very sharp today. “What’s the deal with all this truck shit? I thought you were a heavy tools sort of mechanic.”

    He opens his mouth, considers what was about to exit it, and then shuts his mouth again to give the thoughts a few extra moments to cook. Only when the alarm rings somewhere in the back of his head does he finally give them an answer. “Well, maybe I used to, uh, really enjoy driving. Before I came to work at Shepherd, anyways.”

    “Maybe? That’s not an answer. I want something good so I can justify the giant fucking hole you put in our finances for a piece of garbage on wheels.”

    Olive clears her throat. “Come on, Judith, what do you expect to hear? He probably just worked as a mechanic or somethin’ before comin’ to Shepherd. I mean, it’s not like they’d hire someone whose only merits are street mods.” As she finishes speaking, a look of utter fear washes over her. “Oh God. Cherry please tell me—”

    “I knew he was far too young to be a properly trained mechanic, I knew it, I knew…”

    “Hey!” Cherry raises his voice, taking a single hand off the steering wheel to get the two’s attention. “I also had letters of recommendation from my neighbors. That has to count for something, right?”

    Olive, shocked with terror to the point of resignation, sighs. “We should’ve walked.”

    Judith nods. “Agreed.”

    Azariah’s been knocking on the window and calling names for a solid half minute and none of them have noticed. So, he shrugs and returns to lounging in the truck bed, moving to settle on his back to look up at the sky. “Be open, Leon. You could admit to murderin’ somebody right here and I’d be the only person that hears.”

    “I’ll pass. I’m not in the mood for a heart to heart right now, old man.” The Orc’s eyes drift toward the window, following the movements of Judith’s wild hair as she and Olive gesticulate wildly. He puts a hand in his pocket. He can still feel it, the dust particulate bag. “...I don’t know. Maybe I feel like what happened to her’s my fault.”

    Azariah yawns. “What, like you’re the one who chopped off her hand? Don’t be too hard on yourself, the thing was probably gonna blow no matter what we did. ‘Sides, she blames Cherry anyway. Really tears into the poor kid. I mean, I get it, but still— he did all he could.”

    “Yeah.” Leon rubs his face. “I guess so. So, how long to Pickman’s Hope?”

    “No clue, only ever walked there. Never went by truck, this is a new one.”

    Far behind them, Fusillade fades into the trees, the blackened wood and cold ash mingling beyond the warm colors of the autumnal forests. With every moment, they get further and further away.

==============================================================

Meat finds themselves assaulted with the fragment of a memory as they walk into a clothier’s shop with Brie and Roxanne. Their eyes begin to dart around the place in an attempt to find anything they feel an attachment to. Racks of shirts and jerkins, made from plain, rough-spun, neutral-coloured fabric? Nope. Gaudy shauls and robes, hung up high so that shoplifters could be identified through the sound of a jump? Not those. A young apprentice, who is clearly having a hard time processing what she is looking at, but is still trying her hardest to maintain her sense of customer-decorum? Close.

    There’s something else, something that makes them tap Roxanne on the shoulder and say, “I know this place, but I don’t know why.”

    “There’s a chance you’ve been here before, Meat,” she responds. “Anything in particular tip you off?”

    “I’m trying to figure that out. Nothing I can see is making me remember.”

    Brie interjects, asking, “Are you seeing these textures? I would not have thought residue from Dragon’s breath would have this effect on fabric. It’s fascinating.”

    Roxanne smiles. She puts a hand on Meat’s shoulder, leads them down an aisle. “Let’s get you clothed before we start chasing memories. How about that?”

    Meat nods, not realizing what they had just gotten themselves into.

    “Is it to your liking?” Brie asks, knocking on the door of the changing room.

    Meat looked at themselves in the mirror. Loose canvas pants, ash grey. Loose canvas shirt, sleeveless, light grey. Black and red poncho, chest-length, dragon-scale patterned. It left their fiery orange limbs exposed to the ground and air, as well as abstained from covering their head, just in case there were any sort of hidden fire-breathing capabilities they hadn’t manifested yet. It was plain but efficient, and Roxanne had absolutely no part in putting the outfit together. Brie had done it all by herself, after much thought and consideration, and she was quite proud of it.

    “I have another poncho picked out, in the case that you find this one to hit an emotional nerve,” she says, knocking once again. “Are you alright in there, Meat?”

    “This is good. Don’t people usually wear shoes?”

    “Your feet would burn through them, yes?”

    Meat thinks about this for a moment. “Good point. I’m coming out now.”

    “Wonderful. I look forward to seeing it for myself!”

    They find themselves under the intense scrutiny of Brie, and the amused interest of Roxanne as they walk out of the changing room. The Fox holds a hand over her mouth, lightly masking a smile. The Detective holds her fist up to her chin, re-analysing the three pieces, individually, of the outfit that Meat was to wear.

    Brie is the first to say anything. “I struggled to choose between a more red-toned off-white, and the grey-toned off-white you wear now. I am second-second guessing myself on this decision.”

    Meat shrugs. “It feels like I’m wearing a sack.”

    “It’ll get softer as you wear it, don’t worry,” Roxanne responds. “You look cute, Meat.”

    “Cute? They look like they are dressed accordingly,” says Brie. “I didn’t choose these pieces for their supposed ‘cute’ traits. Have I missed something crucial?”

    “No, no. I just think they look very old-fashioned. And that’s cute, to me.”

    “Ponchos are old-fashioned?” Brie asks, scrunching up her face.

    “They haven’t been in vogue for a few decades or so, Ms. Brie.”

    “Oh. Shall I choose something different, then?”

    “I like it,” Roxanne says. She motions to Meat. “Do you like it?”

    Again, Meat shrugs. “It’s like a sack, but it’s nice. I like black, I think.”

    “See, Ms. Brie? They like it too, and you helped them find another piece to their brain puzzle.”

    The Detective beams. “I’m glad I could be of service.”

    After more shopping that results in Brie choosing a single scarf, coloured and patterned in a similar way to Meat’s poncho, they exit the clothier’s store, and park themselves on a bench outside. Though now clothed, Meat still finds their head unsatisfied, as the fragment of a memory that plagued them earlier yet lingered. It paced around their skull as they listened to Brie and Roxanne talk about where to go next, what to do. It danced around their vision, taunting them this way and that, toward pathways that they know they’ve treaded before, but can’t seem to take the first step down.

    Then, something happens that pulls a rip-cord in Meat’s head. A pair of men, both wearing tucked-in dress shirts and a pair of dress pants, walk past their bench. They’re clearly missing their coats, but that didn’t seem to bother them one bit. They talk loudly and proudly, walking into the clothier’s store to announce themselves to the owner, and move down the main aisle, past the dressing area, through a heavy door into a back room.

    “Can we go back inside?” Meat asks quickly. “I think I remember something.”

Chapter End.

============================================================== 

[ Table of Contents ]

Blondie & The Smokestone March is © 2020-2022 Empty Mask. All Rights Reserved.

#empty-mask #b&tsm #writing #oc #fantasy #adventure #serialized fiction #b&tsm-cherry #b&tsm-judith #b&tsm-azariah #b&tsm-leon #b&tsm-olive #b&tsm-brie #b&tsm-roxanne #b&tsm-meat #b&tsm-jules #b&tsm-lucille

[shanastoryteller]

Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren don’t die. Some things change.

Some things don’t.

~

Lan Xichen had told himself not to worry when he and his brother had been summoned to their uncle’s chambers just as the foreign sect’s children were arrive in Cloud Recesses. Looking at him now, he’s wondering if that was a mistake. Uncle looks moments away from pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache.

“I didn’t tell you earlier because I thought there was a decent chance that he wouldn’t even show up,” he sighs. “But I just received word that he’s passed through the gate. Wei Wuxian is going to be joining the guest disciples.”

It’s unusual for a rogue cultivator to be invited, but not unheard of, especially considering the friendship between Uncle and Cangse Sanren that he’s almost certain actually exists and isn’t just rumors. “Do you foresee a problem? He’s a very accomplished cultivator.”

Despite being Wangji’s age and not being allied with any sect, Wei Wuxian had made quite a name for himself. He learned to cultivate under his parent’s tutelage, had been a guest disciple of the Jiangs, traveled for several years with the famous rogue cultivators Xiao Xingchan and Song Lan, and there were rumors that he’d even somehow snuck up to Baoshan Sanren’s mountain and convinced her take him on as a pupil, although Lan Xichen thought that had to be a just rumor.

While that was all impressive, what truly distinguished him had only happened last year. Yiling had come under near constant attacks from fierce corpses and resentful energy that most cultivators had refused to deal with.

Wei Wuxian had walked into the Burial Mounds, which of course was certain death. Three months later he’s walked out, somehow still alive and only slightly worse for wear and now wearing a flute alongside his sword. He’d gathered his parents, Xiao Xingchen, and Song Lan and they’d erected a barrier of glittering resentful energy around the base of the mountain, containing all the miserable and frightful things that had plagued the area of the Yiling. It harnessed the natural resentful of the energy of the mountain and channeled it through several complicated talismans and arrays.

Copies had been sent to the heads of every sect so to avoid rumors of demonic cultivation, something that reportedly had been Wei Changze’s idea. The arrays were deceptively simply, barely different than what most sects were already using. It’s just that no one had thought to use them quite like that before. Rumors credited everyone but Wei Wuxian, which surely meant he was the one truly responsible.

They called him the Yiling Patriarch and that he was still a teenager hadn’t seemed to matter much to anyone.

“Do you really think he’s here to learn?” Uncle asks, and Lan Xichen has to concede that it’s unlikely. There is little in their cultivation classes that Wei Wuxian would not be able to learn on his own or from his many mentors. “No, that little brat is working on another invention and he wants use of the library without having to go through formal channels. Little hellion. No matter what he pulls or what mischief he starts, you mustn’t get caught up in it, understand?

Even Wangji seemed taken back at Uncle’s vehemence. They hadn’t known that Uncle knew Wei Wuxian personally, but it seems he must, to be this disgruntled. “Disliking Wei Wuxian will not stop us from upholding the Lan practice of courtesy and decorum,” Wangji says.

Uncle stares. Wangji breathes like he wants to shift his weight, but doesn’t. “I never said you’d dislike him.”

Whatever either of them have to say to that is cut off by a loud, boisterous voice outside the door shouting, “UNCLE QIREN!”

Uncle grips the bridge of his nose.

The door slams open and in comes who must be Wei Wuxian, black and white robes with hints of purple along the edge and his hair bound up in purple silk ribbon much finer than anything else he’s wearing. He doesn’t bow or pause, instead crossing the room and throwing his arms around Uncle in a hug.

Lan Xichen wonders if perhaps he hit his head and this all a dream or perhaps a hallucination.

Uncle turns a shade of red he hadn’t previously known him capable of and a vein twitches in his forehead, but he doesn’t push him away. “Wei Wuxian!”

He laughs and steps back, going into a picture perfect, formal bow. “This is from my father,” then he darts forward to yank on Uncle’s beard. Wangji’s eyes have widened in horror. “And that’s from my mother!”

Uncle rubs at his chin and glares. “Who was the hug from then?”

“Me,” Wei Wuxian says shamelessly. “I missed you, Uncle Qiren! We’re going to have so much fun, aren’t we? We should go to Caiyi so I can drink Emperor’s Smile and you can yell at me for being right in ways you don’t like, that always cheers you up.”

Lan Xichen can’t be seeing what he’s seeing. Uncle’s lips are pressed into a firm, tight line, like he does when he’s trying not to smile.

“Hi!” Wei Wuxian says, very loudly and right in front them. “You must be Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji! I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And us you,” he says, after only a half second’s hesitation.

Wei Wuxian isn’t paying attention to him, instead focused on Wangji. “Aw, don’t look so disapproving, it’s good to keep Uncle Qiren on his toes.” Wangji’s face is in fact almost perfectly neutral. Lan Xichen can’t help but be impressed, since most of the clan elders wouldn’t have been able to pick up on that. His admiration quickly turns to horror when Wei Wuxian reaches out and uses his fingers to push his brother’s lips into a facsimile of a grin. “Don’t be mad, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Xichen has to resist the urge to gape. Using his brother’s given name like that, when they’ve just met! What’s worse is Uncle doesn’t even look surprised, just resigned.

Wangji scowls and he reaches for Wei Wuxian’s wrists, but Wei Wuxian slips away, just out of his reach, still laughing. “You’re going to have to be faster than that to catch me, Lan Zhan!”

He’s then darting out the door, which he hadn’t even closed in the first place, like he actually expects the Second Jade of Lan to go chasing after him.

Wangji takes a stop forward before remembering himself and freezing.

“Wei Wuxian!” Unfamiliar voices are calling the boy’s name. They all step outside to see a crowd of guest disciples grinning and waving.

“A-Cheng!” Wei Wuxian waves back. “A-Sang!”

He runs down the steps toward them, still grinning. “No running!” Uncle barks.

“Okay, Uncle Qiren!” Without skipping a beat, Wei Wuxian tucks his sword into his best and launches himself forward, doing continuous cartwheels down the steps even quicker than he’d been running. The guest disciples are cheering, and even Lan Xichen has to admit that it’s an impressive display of strength and balance.

Technically, there is no rule against cartwheeling in Cloud Recesses.

Uncle sighs. “The problem,” he says mournfully, “is that if I make a rule just for him, he and his mother will be far too pleased with themselves, and then he’ll just put even more effort into not breaking the rules in ways that make me add more rules.”

Lan Xichen notices how Wangji hasn’t taken his eyes off Wei Wuxian and thinks that perhaps they have bigger problems, actually.

#untamed #fandom ficcery #lxc does actually stumble on lqr and wwx drinking and arguing in a bar in caiyi #he nearly qi deviates on the spot

[spencersmagic]

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

**

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

**

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

**

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :) 

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x​ @spencerreid-mgg​​ @eoupe​ @inlovewithbabygirl​ @galaxydefenderjulia​ @username2002​

#reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #sub!spencer reid #sub! reid #spencer reid angst #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #hotch #emily prentiss #emily prentiss was a fucking lesbian #imagines #fic #reid #imagine #mgg #matthew gray gubler #penelope garcia #submit requests please #angst #fluff #505 themed series #505 #matthew #gray #gubler #reid x y/n #spencer x y/n

[coveredinsweetpea]

Thigh Riding!! Sweet Pea

I know I said I'd work on my requests in chronological order, but I had just the thing waiting in my drafts for this one!!!

Warnings: 18+, implied smut, light breath play.

-

You watched the knife slowly sink into the cucumber you were cutting for the sandwiches, as Sweet Pea laid on the couch, half asleep. The movie you two had chosen no more than one hour ago turned out to be probably one of the worst and most infuriatingly dumb horror movies of all time, so to say boredom had gotten to you, would be the biggest understatement of the evening. You offered to go make sandwiches as an excuse to not have to watch another completely foreseeable scene unfold, and now there you were, beyond fascinated with your irregular cucumber slices. 

When you were finally done and there was no way you could push it any further, you grabbed the food you had just prepared and walked back into the living room. 

"She died" Sweet Pea mumbled unimpressed, as you sat down next to him.

"Did she? Would have never seen that coming." you joked, shuffling against his side in an attempt to make yourself comfortable enough in order to get through the rest of the movie. You tucked your legs underneath yourself, rested your head in the crook of his neck, then in his lap, and then, right when you thought you found your position, Sweet Pea's spoke up.

"Are you that bored?"

"I mean..." you whined, sitting normally on the bed and turning to look at him, "Aren't you?"

"I am" he chuckled, "3 out of 5 are dead. One more dies and then the last one escapes and the movie ends, shouldn't be that long"

You threw him a disappointed look, but eventually decided to let him finish the movie. However, this attitude didn't last too long, as a couple of minutes later, you were already snuggled into his side with your face tucked into his chest. You weren't looking at the screen anymore, just enjoyed the way his frame rose and fell with ever breath he took as you held him tighter by the second.

"We can stop the movie" he laughed, wrapping an arm around you and settling his hand on your ass. He lightly squeezed your flesh between his fingers, and you couldn't help but sink deeper into his hold.

"No it's fine" you eventually whispered before kissing his hoodie clad chest.

"There's not long left anyway, babe" he said, pecking the top of your head as his hands shamelessly explored your hips and thighs. The movie went on, and by now, with one leg over Sweet Pea's lap and cuddled under his left arm, you couldn't feel more comfortable. You slipped your left hand under his hoodie, allowing your fingers to caress the burning skin of his sides. Most likely mindlessly, his hand started applying pressure to your hips, before moving right between your legs. 

"You smell so good, what the fuck" you said rubbing the side of his neck with the tip of your nose.

"I shower from time to time, love" he said sternly, sarcasm flowing through his lips as he brought his other hand to your ass, trying to guide you to sit on his lap. You followed his movements and straddled his hips, cuddling into his chest. Pea pulled you closer and tucked your head under his chin, as he proceeded to watch the rest of the movie.

As you laid pressed against him, you felt your heart warm up with sudden realisations as in - he's real, in your arms, he's holding you; his small gestures like scratching his nose or scoffing because the main character is dumb beyond repair, hit hard on the inside of your chest. So, on impulse, your lips connected to the base of his neck. You circled your fingers around the collar of his worn out hoodie and pulled down to expose new areas of untouched skin. His fingers tightened their grip as he let out a soft moan when you allowed your teeth to graze his collarbones.

"Baby" you whined, grabbing the sides of his face and pushing yourself up so that your body was pressed flush against his.

"I'm here, angel" he cooed, rubbing his palms up and down the back of your thighs. You could already feel a familiar tingle form in the pit of your stomach as your lips finally met his. He opened his mouth without hesitation and tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss.

With your legs on either side of his lap, there was no way you could rub your thighs together in order to release some of the tension that was already building up so you just settled on pushing yourself against his abdomen. It was useless and frustrating, as all it managed to do was get you even more riled up. You lowered yourself slowly without breaking the kiss, so that you were sitting in his lap again. His hands continued their teasing, breathy whimpers escaping your lips every time you felt his fingers dig into your flesh.

What was once a passionate kiss, turned now into a full on make out session, both of you getting lost in the moment. With every bite he laid upon your lower lip, every tug and squeeze, you felt the pain between your legs grow bigger and bigger. Maybe unconsciously, you shifted a lit to the side so that you were sitting on his left leg, and forced your body to sink down into his', with the hopes of releasing some of the tension.

Every time his hands tried to pull you closer, you crawled back, creating a painfully small amount of friction between his thigh and your core.

"Enjoying yourself?" Sweet Pea smirked, breaking the kiss just enough so that his burning breath would fan over your swollen lips.

"A bit" you groaned, before shifting slightly so that your legs were sprawled around him. Prompting your weight on your knees, you started rolling your hips back and forth along Pea's thigh.

"That's it" he chuckled, feeling you press down on him harder, "Come on, baby.."

You steadied yourself by placing one hand on his abdomen and pushed yourself up to meet his lips again. This time it was sloppier and mostly out of control as your body kept rocking against his'. His tall frame made it difficult for you to reach his lips comfortably so you moved lower, gripping the back of his neck as you mercilessly bit into his skin. The barrier your clothes created between the two of you made it difficult for your release to approach, but the moans Sweet Pea let out under your careful touch worked wonders on bringing you closer to your edge.

"Are you gonna cum like this?" he asked 

"I'm gonna try" you huffed, not pulling away from his neck.

"Let me help," he said. You felt one of his hands leave your ass before it connected to it once again, this time with a loud, powerful slap that sent waves of pleasure propagating throughout your entire body. Sweet Pea circled his arm around your ass to keep you in place and help you press down on him, as his other hand traveled up your body, under your shirt. His palm reached your chest before he let his fingers sink into your skin as he gripped your breast harshly.

"Oh fuck" you whispered as your head fell into the crook of his neck, "Pea, this is gonna take me ages, it's not gonna work"

"Underestimate me again, babe" he grinned, bumping his leg up and causing you to lose your balance. He smiled even wider when you fell against his chest, and started contracting his thigh muscles. You kept going, determined to get your high, Sweet Pea apparently having the same intentions. His hands found your ass again, slapping and gripping it uncontrollably and seemingly more and more aggressively each time. 

"You needy little thing" he whispered lewdly in your ear, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine, "Need me that bad, huh?"

"Pea?" you panted, looking up at him, "Please"

"I got you" he said, cupping your cheek and kissing your forehead. His hand slipped lower and his fingers wrapped themselves tightly around your neck, "Come on, baby, I know you can ride harder than this"

You chucked drily, feeling your orgasm start to build up as he applied pressure to the sides of your neck. You felt his metal rings against your skin, and when he clenched his thigh muscles the right way - teasingly brushing against your core, your eyes fluttered shut as your head tilted back in pleasure.

"Oh- oh" you mumbled, gripping his wrist, "Ok, fuck-"

"Look at me" he commanded, and as your eyes met his', Sweet Pea let his fingers sink down into your ass again, a touch so greedy it almost sent you over the edge. You kept going as you maintained eye contact, and the second you felt your orgasm start to envelop you and your movements became more irregular, Sweet Pea made sure you got to ride your high the right way. His hips bucked upwards meeting your tired thrusts as his hand worked on keeping you flush against him. The chain of whimpers that escaped your lips as your orgasm rolled through your body put a smile on his face, however you didn't get too much time to look at his proud features as you crashed down into his arms once your high had washed over.

"Was that good?" he asked smugly, wrapping his arms protectively around your frame and kissing the top of your head.

You just nodded in response, too busy catching your breath and enjoying the last waves of pleasure that travelled down your legs.

"I wanna eat you out," he said.

Despite being quite surprised by his statement, you didn't protest, "Just give me a second"

"No" he shook his head, "I want you now"

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea smut #sweet pea fic #sweet pea blurb #sweet pea one shot

[kawaiijohn]

Rewind, Rinse, Repeat Chapter 1

For Invisobang Minibang 2021

Ao3 Link

Chapters: 3 finished, 12 total Rating: T+ Warnings: Major and Minor Character Death- all temporary, Implied Child Abuse/Neglect, Strong Language, Mild Body Horror, Mild Injury. Other warnings listed by chapter Characters: Clockwork, Danny Fenton, Pariah Dark, Levi | Leviathan (OC), Mal (OC), Observants, Mentions of other characters Ships: Lost Time, Dark Ages, CW & OC child, CW & Levi | Leviathan (OC) Genre/Tropes: Human AU, Magic AU, Found Family, Character Origin, Hurt/Comfort, Original Magic System and Lore Additional Tags: Existentialism & Existential Angst, Memory Loss & Amnesia, Corruption, Clockwork Centric, They/Them Pronouns for Clockwork, The Fenton's A+ Parenting, Obersvant Bashing

Summary

“Clockwork can I ask you something? How did you become a ghost?”

The tale surrounding the mystery of Clockwork's existence; a world where magic is common and ghosts are not. A world where one lonely, average mage tries with all their might to save what means most to them. A world where things need to be remade into something better.

Shout out to my betas @bibliophilea and @moonlights-shadow-warrior for keeping me sane, @13thdoodle for letting me use their OC, Levi, @dailudannos and @sailor-toni for providing art for later chapters, and all the folks over at @invisobang for being awesome!!!!

Chapter One below the Cut. The rest is available on my Ao3 account because tumblr linking/posting is hella broken.

Chapter 1: An Inquiry

“Hey, Clockwork? Can I ask you something?”

Clockwork looks over from the mirror they were watching intently.  “You already have, Daniel,” they reply, offering the other a smirk.

“Oh, ha ha.  You've never said that to me before.”  The reply is filled to the brim with sarcasm, as per usual.  Danny rolls his eyes, but a small smile gracing his lips betrays the fact he isn't annoyed in the least.  “Seriously, though.  It’s something that's been on my mind like... every day for the last two weeks!!"  He raises his hands towards the sky, flopping back in the air dramatically.  "But... it's kinda, y'know.  Personal-”  Danny trails off, slightly embarrassed.

Of course.  Clockwork finds themself smiling fondly- Danny thought he’d said something he shouldn't have- an inquiry that could make his guardian upset (as if it's even possible to upset Clockwork like that).  A question is a question, and this is a worrying habit of his that the Time Master is trying to help break, even if it's still somewhat endearing to them.

“I uh, I mean... it’s personal about- to you, not to me. That’s what I meant!!” Danny continued.

Clockwork stares at him, unblinking.  An idea (or thousands) of what he may ask flashes through their mind’s eye.  With a single, calming pulse to their Core, Clockwork pushes the involuntary slideshow of timelines aside as if they're no more than curtains.  They need to focus on the window in front of them; the here and now, not the temporal drapery.

It's a habit they are trying to overcome for Daniel’s sake.  To ensure their ward's growth, they need to stop peering into the near future as often- not discourage his asking of questions.  After all, what is a child if not but a well of endless curiosity?  Cutting Danny off is also sure to disallow the development of any trust or patience Clockwork needs to build within their young ward.  They wouldn’t receive either of those things if they assume what he wanted to ask.

It's common decency to not assume, lest it ‘make an ass out of you and me’, according to Daniel.

It is going to be a tough habit to break, but by the (other) Ancients, they're trying their best.  Their ward deserves the infinitesimal choices all other children have when asking things of their guardians, so even if they do glimpse to the future, they will not mention it to him.  Clockwork refuses and will continue to refuse to take their ward’s agency away; to not have a choice in things is a fate worse than fading.

The boy has been quiet, stuck deep within his own thoughts even after an impressive five minutes and thirty-seven and a half seconds of silence (uncharacteristic of the boy, Clockwork notes).

Now that just won't do- he must have lost his train of thought.  Clockwork gestures at the ghost boy, motioning for him to continue.  It works- Danny adverting his eyes and clearing his throat, "Well, it’s just like- you know so much about me- like, how I died, the whole Ghost Zone Prince business, that entire disaster doomed timeline with Dan... I just keep thinking- no- realizing, that I barely know anything about you!!”  He throws his arms up in thinly veiled frustration.

Clockwork smirks. “You had another question, did you not?”  They place a hand along the edge of the closest Temporal Mirror, turning to face the mirror- still halfway facing Danny.  They can see his inner debate clearly written on the boy's face- the mirror reflecting as if it were an ordinary object (for now).  They turn towards it fully and watch Daniel's reaction from behind them, acting as if they aren't finding joy in their ward's hesitation.  It's always adorable when he tries not to offend Clockwork. "I may be able to work with time, but that doesn't mean I wish to float here waiting for an answer all day."

Danny blinks a few times, rolling his eyes again in response.  Clockwork is certain that if they weren’t secured to his skull by human musculature they’d fall out and roll away.  “Well, I’m sorry for trying not to be rude and like, asking outright... but since it’s you I have to always be super direct!!  Jeeze you’re frustrating sometimes!”  He floats towards his mentor, crossing his arms.

Danny often forgets Clockwork isn't easily upset over trivial things such as questions.  Most questions are about things they already know the answers to, anyways.  And the few things that they don’t know when asked, they figure out soon after.  Such is the duty of the Master of Time- to be a step ahead of everyone and everything else always.  Besides, in most timelines (68.3% of them, to round up) the question Daniel wishes to ask is along the lines of ‘What was your past like?’ Another small fraction (a little under 20%) the question is ‘How did you get so strong?’ .  And even in the remaining timelines, the question would be along the lines of ‘How do your time powers work?’

They are each things Clockwork expects Daniel to ask them at some point or other, as it were.  There isn’t really anything Daniel can ask that could be too shockin-

“Clockwork, I was wondering… how exactly did you become a ghost?”

They... did not see that coming… in any of the timelines they’d glimpsed.  Clockwork stills for only a fraction of a moment, but it’s long enough for Danny to flinch, feeling as if he’s crossed a line.  They hear more than see Daniel shrinking in on himself as they look off into nothing, buried memories waking slowly in their mind.

Clockwork is brought from their introspection by a mumbled curse.  “Shit!  I mean... uh crap??"   They just stare at Danny as they are brought back to the present.  "Never mind just... sorry for asking...  Oh man!  Did I offend you somehow?  Ancients dammit, this is what I was worried about!!”  They watch him curiously, soft whirring coming from their ward's anxious core.  “We can just forget about it if-”  Daniel’s hands wring together nervously, shoulders tense with worry and face full of guilt.

Right- facial expressions are also important for a young ghost's emotional communication and development.  Sometimes the Time Master wonders if their isolation in Long Now affected their social behavior (it did).  Their face is carefully blank most times, so they set to fix it- they offer a small grin, hand coming to rest on Daniel’s shoulder.  “It is more than fine, Daniel.  You asked if you could ask a question- which is in fact, two questions, I should note- but I gave you consent to ask it of me.”  They squeeze his shoulder to placate the worry.

“It’s about time I told you this story, as it were.  I just did not foresee it being told at this very moment."  Clockwork floats slowly, turning away from their Mirrors.  "Come along- it’s best we sit for this.  I’ll have one of your friends bring us some tea.”

Danny floats after his mentor, looking around the room the two normally use to study history of the Realms.  “So, uh… is it a long story or...?”

“Oh, it is very long, indeed.”  They fly through an ornate door and over to their favored 'chair'- a stack of comfortable cushions in violets and blues, both impossibly cool and warm at the same time.  They recall Daniel discovering the room, eyes full of wonder and posture relaxed.  Clockwork chuckles- the first time their boy had wandered in here he'd decided to take a running dive into the pile, jumping up in surprise when it was cold as ice, yet warm as fresh laundry.  The expression on their ward’s face is one of their fondest memories; a happy moment amongst all the tedium of watching time.

“It may take a while to tell this tale proper. But, it is a story that ought to be told.”  Daniel makes himself comfortable on his chair of choice- an unholy combination of 'borrowed' pillows and what appears to be a more modern gaming chair- complete with an obnoxiously bright green-black color scheme.  Clockwork has to hide another smile as Danny wiggles himself deep into the pile.  “So, Daniel- what do you know of the phrase ‘Totems of Power’?”

“I thought I was getting a story, not a pop quiz!  Unfair!!”  His disdain for schooling makes Clockwork laugh fondly before the boy continues.  “But they’re like… hmm how do I explain this?  Well, there’s the universe right?  Like every timeline and every result of every timeline all at the same time kind of ties into the main universe thingy- but there's still a main timeline, and that's kinda like... Main Street, and the other possible timelines are uh... like side streets with dead ends?  But there's other forces that like, aren't time and… uhhh...”

He hums, crossing his arms deep in thought.  Clockwork takes the time to purr-sing-hum at one of the many blobs floating in and out of their lair; Daniel had asked them to keep some around as pets and the Time Master was happy to oblige.  They were unable to deny something so beneficial to the young Prince, after all.  The one deemed ‘Mr. Pants’ by one of Daniel’s friends answers their call.  Clockwork buzzes to it a quiet request- ‘bring Daniel's favorite tea and mugs for two, please.’  The little thing chirrups and zips off through the walls- eager to serve the Lair’s owner and be (potentially) rewarded with pats (from Daniel).

The Time Master brings their undivided attention back toward a grumbling ghost boy, lost in thought.  “Daniel if you need to ask for help I’m glad to-”

Danny snaps his fingers, coming to a realization before his mentor can finish.  “I got it!!  The best way to explain it is ‘The Universe needs to run smoothly, so there’s certain forces- like Time or Space- that are upheld by a powerful entity, like a person or like… the avatar of that concept?  Yeah, something like that, but they ensure the aspect they represent is properly cared for so the universe doesn’t completely like, die.’”  Danny nods to himself.  "It's why you stepped in to stop Dan, to make sure the world didn't end like that."

“That is correct- it is my job to ensure this universe of ghosts and reality doesn't crumble prematurely.  Now, do you have a recollection of any other Totems you may have encountered?”

“Well, yeah!  We call them ‘Ancients’, though- so like… Pandora is the one for war and history, and Nocturn is for like… dreams?  The Void or something, maybe?  And then there’s old man Pariah who isn’t one, but he said there’s a Leadership Ancient somewhere, and then-”  Danny pauses, blinking at Clockwork in realization.  “Wait, you asked that for a reason, didn’t you?”

“That I did.  Becoming the Totem, or Ancient of Time is where this story starts.”  Clockwork hums, seeing Mr. Pants fly back towards the two- nearly spilling scalding tea all over the ground.  “Now then.  We have drinks.  We are sitting comfortably.  I believe it’s time I spin my tale for you.”  They take a sip, closing their eyes in bliss.

They open them once more and see Daniel sitting, eyes full of stars and eager- Eager to hear, eager to fire off a question a minute.  It makes a chuckle bubble up in their throat, to see their favorite person so excited to learn.

“Once upon a time, there was a human; average in most ways, a simple person living a simple life.  They would get up in the morning, perform their daily tasks, and go to sleep at night.  Day in, and day out- a boring, but fulfilling existence.

“However, where this story differs from what we recognize as reality, is that in this realm, humans who could control magic were the norm.  Think as if it were like one of those fantasy games you and Tucker play together- mages, healers… all of those and more were commonplace when I was alive.  Yes, humans can wield magic now, but it is nowhere near as frequent as they could in our tale.”

They pause, seeing that Danny was about to interrupt.  “Wait wait- this realm?  Like- this is a completely different reality?? And people can wield magic now???  Are you messing with me?  Like… I thought it was all just-”  The boy stops, his train of thought drifting off the tracks as it tends to now and then.

“Yes, first, this is a completely different realm from either the Mortal Plane or the Ghost Zone.  Second, Daniel- tell me... have you not noticed the magic of those you have encountered?  Blood blossoms… a reality warping gauntlet?  The existence that is ‘Freakshow’ in general should be a red flag, seeing as his talents were… strangely non-ghostly in origin.  Not to mention objects such as the Infi-map...”

“Man, I wish I could forget about Freakshow… who mind controls ghosts???  He was the worst!” Their young ward crossed his arms and grumbles.

“If you’re done sulking about your past misadventures and former foes, I was in the middle of telling a story, if I recall correctly.  One you asked I tell you…”  Clockwork simply stares, unblinking as steam wafts from their slowly cooling tea.

All is well, they knew Danny would only take approximately 4.85 seconds to snap his attention back to their story.  Clockwork sips their tea, waiting.

Danny snaps out of his thoughts only a millisecond off of Clockwork's prediction. “Sorry... it’s just super weird to think that magic actually… still exists?  Like ghosts are real and all but magic being a thing feels a bit far fetched, don’t ya think?”  He pouts, brow furrowed.

The Master of Time finally closes their eyes, removing the hood from their head.  White hair floats gracefully behind them, settling just past their shoulders.   Clockwork opens their eyes again- a serious, yet warm expression directed at their ward.  “Magic is simply defined as reality altering acts using both energy and the willpower of a sentient being, if that helps.”  Another sip.  Mr. Pants made a wonderful batch of tea, as always.  They smile wider when they notice Danny’s expression- the boy has never seen them without a hood, and they know doing this will (in 99.78% of all possible timelines) convince the boy to take what they said seriously.   ”Just as ghosts can be defined as ‘ectoplasm given form and consciousness’, forces beyond humanity and the physical realm can be explained with scientific terminology if you know where to look.”

“So like... what all did magic have to do with this ‘simple human’ version of you?  Did you ever have the power to shoot lightning??  Could I shoot lightning if I tried?  Like were you some sorta time wizard?  Is that why you’re all… timey-wimey and powerful?”  Danny wiggles his fingers with a look of confusion on his face.

Clockwork always finds their Core warming when their boy acts his age.  He's abnormally prone to shoulder the destiny of the world on himself and often forgets he's just a kid.  “You could continue asking questions one at a time, or you could allow me to tell my story.  The choice is yours, Daniel.”  They smirk, watching as Danny purses his lips, his steady flow of questions stopping short.  The best answer.  “Perfect- all is as I thought it would be.”

They close their eyes and reminisce as they continue.  “Now- to answer your last question… Yes.  You could say magic is how I came to be the Master of Time in both the Infinite Realms and the mortal plane, but there is much more to the story than that.  Other players, situations, and pure circumstances.  The universe in its infinite chances and possibilities brought myself, as well as many others to the situations they face here and now.”  Clockwork pauses, taking the moment to stare straight through Danny’s soul.  “Even yourself.”

The boy shudders, an appropriate response.  “Wait... me?  Did you… do something in the past to like… a past version of someone we know??  Can that even happen???”  Danny is already enraptured by the story, eyes twinkling as his mentor opens up about themself.  The boy is obviously thinking about everything that has happened, everything that could possibly have happened, and everything that Clockwork could possibly drop on him.

They feel Daniel cautiously tug on loose strands of time to see if he could possibly scope out what is about to be said, quickly failing to do much else beside give himself a small headache.  “Time stuff is still really confusing, Clockwork…”

“You could say that.  You could even say that trying to mess with time in the inner sanctum of Long Now is the most confusing ‘time stuff’ one could do if they were not myself.”  They grin- a Temporal Mirror appearing behind them with a thought.

“What’s the mirror for?”  Danny catches sight of himself and looks away, embarrassed that he’s been literally glowing with power after trying to do something so simple with his developing powers.  The glow is something he’s been working on suppressing recently.  After all, it would be a shame if other ghosts could see the boy powering up by aura alone.

The Master of Time smirks, bringing tea to their lips again.  “I thought it would be fun to attempt braiding my hair and doing my makeup for once.  It has been an awfully long time since I’ve done either.”

They stare at Danny who just bursts into laughter.  “Did you just use sarcasm???  Man, I didn’t know you could lighten up, Clockwork!”  The boy laughs harder, sinking deeper into his nest of pillows.  After a few minutes he was finally wiping tears from his eyes.  “But no.  Seriously… what’s the mirror for??”

“Why, what they are always for, Daniel- seeing through time and space.”  Clockwork waves their hand.  The mirrors show an image of a human with dark hair and burgundy eyes.  They have a large, hooked nose and medium brown skin- and Danny finds himself having a hard time guessing their gender.  The human sits at a desk, paused in time with the delicate gears of a clock sprawled along the desk surface, tools in hand.

Behind Clockwork, the image changes, showing the human living through an average day- images play in small spurts, never showing the whole story.  “Do you understand what’s being seen?”  The young boy nods, grabbing Mr. Pants out of the air as the blob drifts between the two.  Good, he will probably need the companionship, especially towards the end.

This isn’t the easiest story to tell, nor is it easy to listen to, but with a sip of their tea, Clockwork continues.

#danny phantom #invisobang #invisobang 2021 #dp #phanfic #art #my fic #RRR #dantes vibe corner

[amor-immortalem]

Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever ch.6

Previous

Warnings: major gaslighting, Lucifer being a horrible older brother, controlling behaviour, manipulation

if you want to be tagged please let me know or if you're already tagged and want me to stop tagging you let me know as well

taglist: @mediocredetective @it-hurts-when-i-blink

A/N: I don’t think I ever mentioned or implied it, but I wrote this with the intention of it being an AU.

The end of the work day was one of Arella’s favorite parts of the day- not because she didn’t like her job. It was quite the opposite actually. No, the reason the end of her shift was her favorite part of her day was getting to go home to Mammon and the home they had made together. And today she had special news for her beloved demon.

“Mam, I’m home!” The human calls as she rushes through the door, hanging her purse on the coat rack next to the door and her keys on the key rack next to that. “Mammon...?” When she gets no response to her calls, she sets about the house looking for the white-haired demon. It was odd for him not to meet her at the door.

She thought maybe he was just taking a nap so her first stop was their bedroom but when she didn’t find him there, or any place else she looked for that matter, she grew confused. Maybe he had just gone out for something- she did leave him money during the day in case he thought of something they needed from the store or anything of that nature, but his human world cell phone he had in place of the D.D.D. that he’d left at the House of Lamentation was sitting on their bedside table. Had he just forgotten it at home? Arella half expected Mammon to come walking through the door any minute now.

When there was a knock at the door, she went to go investigate it. She opened the door and to her surprise, Solomon standing there.

“Solomon? Well, this is a surprise.” She looks at him wide-eyed. “You didn’t say anything about coming to visit.”

“Sorry, I know it’s spur of the moment. Is Mammon home?” The sorcerer looks almost worried- like he’d been rushing to get here. “I text you earlier to warn you but you must’ve still been at work.”

“N.. No. I think he went out to get something- wait did you say warn?”

“Lucifer found you two a couple months ago. He’s been watching ever since. If Mammon’s not here then he must’ve made his move while you were away...”

Arella’s jaw dropped. He had found them? How? She’d been so careful but it just wasn’t enough apparently. She turned on her heels and marched in the house proper.

“Arella, what are you doing?” the silver-haired male follows after her.

“What do you think? I’m going to the Devildom to get my boyfriend back and give Lucifer a piece of my mind.”

“Arella wait. You can’t.”

“I think I can. It’s not like he can actually kill me- not when I hold a pact over him.”

“No, Arella, I mean you literally cannot. You’ve been banned from the Devildom for the foreseeable future.”

“I’ve what now?”

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

It's only been a few hours since Lucifer forced Mammon to come home and he was miserable every minute of it. His brothers save for the eldest were all at school for the time being. He figured once they came home, they would laugh at him- at the way he thought he could leave them behind for his own selfish happiness. He plans on hiding away in his room for the rest of the night in silent protest. He’d stay here in this room forever if that would mean that his older brother would see how unhappy he was- but really, when has Lucifer ever cared about what made him happy. He wondered if any of his brothers would come looking for him when they got home.

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

As dinnertime came around, the brothers had gathered around the table. It had been Beel’s turn for dinner duty so he got to decide their meal tonight. It was home-made ramen- Mammon's favorite- as a sort of show of good will. They all knew that the reason their brother had taken so long to come back from the human world that he had to be escorted back by force was because he was genuinely happier with the human than he was with them, but as a few minutes turned into thirty, a couple of them exchanged worried looks. Asmo placed napkin over the top of Mammon’s bowl so the food wouldn’t get cold when even more time passed and Mammon still hadn’t shown his face.

The Avatar of Greed wouldn’t join them until it was Lucifer who escorted him to the table, tugging Mammon by the arm like a father dragging his unruly child off for a scolding.

“Everyone, welcome our precious brother back.” He gave their brother a pat on the shoulder before going to take his seat. “Make sure he remembers how much we value his place in this family. How much we love him. He seems to be a little confused.”

The others looked between each other before looking toward the Avatar of Greed.

“’m not confused. I wanna go home... back ta where I belong.” The white-haired demon’s voice is quiet.

“Of course you are. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re already at home and in the one and only place you belong.” Lucifer picked up his chop sticks as he began to eat. He didn’t need to say it but the look he shot Mammon relayed it perfectly: ‘under my thumb,’

And it’s at this point the rest of the brothers turn to their own bowls, realizing that this is why none of them dared to step a foot out the line Lucifer had so meticulously constructed for them. This was the worst kind of punishment.

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

The following three months were just as horrible for Mammon as that first day back. While his brothers hadn’t been particularly nasty to him, their presence was beginning to feel suffocating. One of them was always in his room trying to get him to do something with them- at least they were trying to be better. The only one he really took up the offer on was Satan who offered to study with him to get his grades back up because it was a necessity.

What was worse, Mammon couldn’t leave the house without constant monitoring from Lucifer. If he was at RAD, Lucifer was never out of ear shot. If he went out for a walk just to get some fresh air, Lucifer’s familiars were there to follow him until he returned back to the House of Lamentation. Mammon couldn’t even spend time in the Aviary with his crows- the only creatures that brought him some semblance of happiness- without the Avatar of Pride being more than a few yards off. He couldn’t go on like this much longer and still expect to remain sound of mind. It was overbearing, to put it mildly.

He had seen Solomon a few times in the halls at school. He wanted to talk to him- to see how Arella was doing, to relay the message that he was doing alright but he missed her. And the sorcerer looked like he wanted to give him something, often pulling out a white envelope for him, but each time the pair was interrupted by none other than the Avatar of Pride. He would confiscate the envelope from the silver-haired human and go as far as to burn it in front of Mammon with the coldest look in his eyes before escorting him to their next class together.

“Lucifer, please, jus’ let me read one letter. Just one, please?” Mammon pleads as they walked together after the latest letter burning incident. “I just wanna know how she’s doin’. Is that too much to ask?”

“No.” His voice is stern. “Mammon, can’t you see how bad she is for you? Look how unhappy you are now as opposed to before Arella came into your life. Back then you knew we loved you. She’s the one who put those outlandish ideas in your head so she could separate you from us. Arella played tricks on you. She didn’t take you away from us because she loved you, she wanted to use you- take advantage of you and your abilities.”

“No...” He takes a step back from his older brother, “No, ‘Rella wouldn’t do that. She loves me.”

“Does she though?”

“What?”

“Well, you yourself said her primary sin was greed, didn’t you? One of the benefits of keeping herself in your good graces is boundless wealth- we all know that. If you were in that position isn’t that what you would do?”

“Not that. I’d never mess with a person’s feelin’s for my own gain.”

“Mammon,” Lucifer’s voice is soft and firm as he placed a comforting hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “Have I ever lied to you unless it was to protect you?”

“No...” the white-haired demon says quietly. “Ya haven’t.”

“Then why would I choose to lie to you- my precious little brother- now?” He asks.

“I don’t know...”

“I wouldn’t. Look at you now. You’re so worked up over one insignificant, greedy human. Forget about her so you’ll feel better. I know this is a lot to realize so suddenly, would you like to go home and lie down for a bit?”

Mammon only nods as the eldest smiles softly and ruffles his hair just like he did when Mammon was small back when they were angels in the Celestial Realm.

“It hurts now, but you’ll be alright, Mams. You have your brothers. That’s all you need.”

Watching from behind the corner, Asmodeus’ eyes widened in horror. They’d heard the entirety of that exchange between their older brothers and they were in shock. As soon as the pair had gone, the strawberry-blonde-haired demon took off to demand an audience with Diavolo. Lucifer, in his attempt to keep Mammon under his control, was going far off the deep end.

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Next

find more on my masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date? #obey me angst #obey me mammon #mammon angst #obey me oc #arella #obey me solomon #obey me lucifer

[iceeckos12]

time travel snippet

little time travel au oneshot. season 5 jon travels back in time to season 1. from the perspectives of tim, martin, and sasha. 3.5k.

i dont think i need to tag anything, but please let me know otherwise.

Tim wakes up that morning, and it’s just like any other day.

Well—no, okay, that’s a bit misleading. Today is his first day working as an archival assistant, so he’s one part nervous, one part that breathless, exhilarated feeling you only get when you’re about to do something unfamiliar that may or may not redefine your life for the foreseeable future. When he says “it’s just like any other day”, he means that he wakes up, and he’s a normal person doing normal people things like eating a healthy breakfast and going to work.

(So, no. In short, he doesn’t realize that today is the day when It happens, that big, life-changing event that you think will Never Happen To You.)

He gets out of bed, stumbles into the bathroom. Washes his face of whatever residue that’d built up during the night, tries to scrape away the evidence of his nightmares, smiles big and bright at the mirror to see how successful his efforts were. He’s betrayed by the traitorous bags beneath his eyes, but that’s okay. Sasha taught him how to wield concealer as a shield whenever his past wore down his armor.

He shoots twin finger guns into his reflection, making soft pew, pew! noises that are almost too-loud in the hush of the bathroom. Then he turns on his heel and walks away, sauntering and humming along with the chorus of Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5.

He gets to the Institute twenty minutes before he’s supposed to—not because he’s trying to impress his boss or whatever (he and Jon have known each other long enough that there’s no point). It’s just, Jon will probably want to make some sort of game-plan before the actual workday starts. 

The poor man had been relieved to an almost comical degree when Tim had said yes, I’ll come with you to the Archives. It’s painfully obvious how out-of-his-depth Jon is with the whole “Head Archivist” thing. Tim’s honestly baffled as to why Elias had singled him out for the position in the first place, considering his lack of qualifications.

But, whatever. It’s fine! Tim and Sasha will be there to help him—although the third assistant is a bit of a problem, considering that they know absolutely nothing about him. There’s no guarantee that this Martin Blackwood won’t report inadequacies or mistakes back to Elias. If that’s the case, Tim and Sasha will have to be Jon’s safety net, which is partially why Tim is hoping to talk to Jon before anyone else gets there.

He also wants to talk to Jon because he just knows the man is probably working himself up over all of this. Maybe reassurances won’t do away with the source of anxiety entirely, but at least it’ll remind Jon that he’s not alone, and that he can count on Tim and Sasha.

As expected, when Tim gets there he can see a sliver of light pouring out from the cracked door of the Head Archivist’s office. He selects a desk and sets his bag on top of it, noting a set of strange gouges in the fake wood with a raised eyebrow, and then an internal shrug. The Institute issued laptop is near the far edge of his desk, and his collection of pictures are strategically placed so that he can see them all clearly.

His eyes linger over the image of him, his mother, and his brother. Their smiles are almost perfect replicas of each other, like someone took a mold of one of their faces and recreated it twice over.

Briefly, he closes his eyes. Then he shakes himself, releases a slow, steadying breath, and goes to check on Jon.

Tim’s not sure what he’s expecting to see when he goes into Jon’s office.

(That’s misleading too, though. He’s not sure if Jon will be visibly calm or upset, if he’ll be on his laptop, if he’ll be picking at the skin around his fingernails, as he so often does when he’s stressed. He is expecting Jon as he is and always has been—a twenty-some year old going on sixty, who wraps his gruff, grumpy demeanor about himself to protect the soft, vulnerable core he likes to pretend doesn’t exist.)

He comes up to the door, and the soft rectangle of light that emanates from beneath the door paints the tips of his shoes gold. “Jon?” he calls softly, rapping his knuckles against the frame. There’s a soft rustling noise—papers maybe? but no audible response, so he shrugs and pushes the door open. “I’m coming in.”

Tim steps inside, a quip instinctively readying itself on his tongue—but then his gaze lands on Jon, and he freezes dead in his tracks.

Even years later, he still vividly, viscerally remembers the moment he saw Danny standing on the stage underneath the Royal Opera House, the way he’d looked...not quite right. The wrongness had been subtle, so much so that it had been unnoticeable upon first glance, upon second glance. The longer Tim had looked though, the more obvious it had become, exposing all the little faults in that almost-perfect recreation of his brother.

Looking at Jon now, it’s the first and only thing he can think of. Because—yes, there’s the long, silver-streaked black hair, there’s the rich brown eyes, there’s the pair of spectacles that make him look far older than he actually is. But that’s where the similarities between the Jon he knows and this Jon end.

Jon’s always been a small man, but his feigned haughtiness makes him seem much bigger than he actually is. Except—except this Jon looks smaller somehow, his shoulders curved protectively inward, like he’s trying to present less of a target. And there’s something about his face, too—his expression is too sharp, too much—

But the worst of it is his eyes. There’s something very wrong with his eyes.

Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Jon? He doesn’t say it out loud though, just keeps staring at Jon, a heady mix of terror and horror making any sort of reaction impossible.

After a moment Jon’s lips thin, contorted by some distant cousin of displeasure, and he rises to his feet. Tim stumbles instinctively backward, his breath escaping him in a sharp gasp that’s immediately swallowed up by the apathetic stacks of books and papers surrounding them. He’s struck by the fact that if he dies here, it’s unlikely anyone will notice; he’ll become just another set of marks gouged into the desk, willed away with an uneasy shrug.

Jon freezes, lips parting subtly, as though he were about to speak. Tim feels his breath catch in his chest, unable to shake himself out of the clouded stupor his mind has fallen into.

In the end, Jon says nothing. Just releases a long, slow breath of air and sits back down, pushing his chair close to his desk. The motion looks heavy, tired, as though it takes far more energy than it should.

“You—you should go,” Jon rasps, and there’s something off about his voice too, though Tim can’t put his finger on why. He can’t cobble together enough of a train of thought to make sense of any of this, all he can think of is that clown ripping Danny apart—

He stumbles out of Jon’s office, sits down at his desk. Stares down at the cheap, fake wood, at the gouges that have marred the otherwise pristine surface. Puts his head in his hands, and tries to will his heart to stop pounding in his chest.

-0-

Martin’s heard things about Jonathan Sims.

He’s not usually the type to pay attention or encourage gossip, as the vivid memories of his classmates tittering cruelly whenever he walked by still leaves a sour taste in his mouth.The problem with the Institute is that the employees get bored pretty easily. Though most would consider academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal to be fairly interesting, it’s still academic research. And the subject content can get to be a bit...repetitive. There’s only so many gruesome statements you can read without thinking, oh great, more meat.

So the employees gossip a lot, and while Martin usually tries to keep his head down and avoid it, it’s difficult not to overhear some things. And from what little he’s heard, he’s...a bit concerned. Rude and unsociable has frequently been mentioned, as have arrogant and unnecessarily finicky, and worst of all, a bit of a stuck-up know-it-all.

Normally he tries not to put too much stock in office gossip—he’s well aware that the grapevine tends to exaggerate one’s most undesirable traits—but if any of it is true, then he might just be in trouble. It was hard enough being a library employee when his boss wasn’t even paying attention most of the time. If Jon is as exacting as they say, it might be enough to expose the fact that Martin has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. And if that happens, then he might get fired, and he can’t get fired, he needs this job, he can barely keep up with his mum’s medical bills as it is—

Calm down, Martin tells himself firmly, pressing his hand against his sternum, as though that will be enough to quell the rising panic. It’s only your first day. Maybe he’s nice, and we’ll actually be good friends.

(With his luck? Yeah, right.)

The Institute looms in the distance, growing closer with every terrified, grudging footstep. A shiver runs up his spine at the sight of its imposing presence, a dark, ugly blot of a building against the backdrop of the iron grey clouds.

If there’s one thing he’s good at though, it’s keeping his head down and muddling through until he’s able to figure out what is actually expected of him. He can twist and fold himself into whatever role they need him to fill, as he has done so many times in the past. Not easily perhaps, but he has always managed. The alternative is untenable, after all.

So he takes a deep breath, and shoves his panic down as deep as possible. Lifts his head and forces a smile onto his face, like a good attitude will be enough to protect him from his boss’s wrath.

He could really do with a cup of tea.

Martin trudges down the stairs, giving the blank walls, the old-fashioned carpet, a dubious look as he does. The Archives themselves are as he remembers it—he’s been down here a couple of times when Gertrude made a request for something specific, but—

He pauses when he notices a man sitting at one of the desks, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders aren’t shaking and his breathing is even, so Martin doesn’t think that he’s crying? He’s just….sitting there, his stillness so perfect it’s almost inhuman.

“Hello?” Martin calls softly, cautiously, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.

The man looks up, revealing a very handsome face and brown eyes so dark they may as well be black. His cheeks are dry but his eyes are bright and a little wild, and his mouth is pressed into a small, tight line. He doesn’t speak, just keeps watching, blinking dazedly in Martin’s direction. Martin gets the feeling that this person isn’t entirely there at the moment, like a house in which every room is lit, but there are no people inside.

He swallows and shifts nervously back and forth, trying to decide whether or not to call for some backup. Eventually he sets his bag on the floor and shuffles a bit closer. “Um—are you—is everything okay?”

The man blinks rapidly, some semblance of awareness creeping back into his gaze. He shakes his head slowly, pushes his short, gelled hair back from his head. His hands are trembling. “I’m...yeah, I’m fine. It’s—everything’s, it’s…”

But then his gaze lands on something over Martin’s shoulder, and all the color drains out of his face, his mouth shutting with a painful sounding click. Martin quickly spins around, searching for whatever could’ve scared him so much—

There’s someone standing in the doorway of Gertrude’s office.

There are so many things that one normally takes in upon first meeting another person: their hair, their skin color, all the little wrinkles and marks that give you the briefest insight into their life. Martin looks at posture first, tends to check if a person is intentionally looming, or if they’re making themself smaller.

But all Martin can see are the eyes.

There’s—two of them he thinks, but two is such an arbitrary number when the thing you’re applying it to doesn’t ascribe to human values (he’s not sure how he knows that—how does he know that—?). That horrible, terrible gaze is an unerring arrow, all-encompassing, all-consuming, piercing the deepest corners of his mind. It hurts in some distant, nebulous way he’s not even sure he comprehends—

Then he blinks, and the sheer terror, that feeling of the horrible, violating exposure of everything that he is, abruptly snuffs out. What’s left is just a person, wispy and small, his slight frame fairly drowning in a chunky, cable-knit jumper. He’s leaning against his doorframe, his eyes—two big brown ones, rich and unfathomably sad and more than that, human—drinking Martin in, his lips parted in a soundless gasp.

“Um—” Martin glances over his shoulder, and almost leaps out of his skin when a land falls heavily on his shoulder. The man who’d been sitting in the chair is standing just behind him, a strained but polite smile on his face.

“Hi Jon,” the man says, an undercurrent of a warning in his voice.

Martin glances between the two, his confusion growing with every passing moment. This is not what he was expecting when he first came into work today, and the uncertainty makes him feel strange and off-kilter.

The person in the door swallows once, twice, then straightens, one hand still gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. When he speaks, his voice is soft, tentative, a little ragged around the edges. “Tim. It’s, um...it’s good to see you.”

“Martin Blackwood, was it?” Tim continues, injecting a bit of cheer into his voice. It takes Martin a moment to realize that he’s being addressed, and he shoots Jon—this is Jonathan Sims?—an uncertain look before nodding slowly. “We’re happy to have you on the team.”

“O-Oh?” Martin squeaks, then grits his teeth and bodily forces his voice back into its normal range. “I’m—um, I’m happy to be here?”

“Good,” Tim says through a grin that looks more like a grimace, giving Martin’s shoulder a friendly pat. The look he shoots Jon is a dark, mistrustful thing. The look Jon gives him back is fragile, vulnerable, that winds the tension in Tim’s shoulders so tight it has to be painful.

Jon’s gaze flickers to Martin, just for a second—and then he disappears into his office, leaving the door cracked behind him.

Tim and Martin stand there for a second, staring at the door. Tim’s still tense as a bowstring, and his grip on Martin’s shoulder is almost uncomfortable. The air in the Archives feels stuffy and too warm, and there’s a strange prickling sensation on the back of Martin’s neck, like he’s being subjected to close scrutiny.

Then Tim sighs and lets go of Martin’s shoulder, a little of the tension bleeding out of him, and without it he looks small, deflated. He goes back to his desk and sits down, booting up his laptop without a word of explanation to Martin.

Martin stares at the back of Tim’s head for a moment, a number of questions clamoring around in his brain—what the fuck was that? What’s wrong with Jon? Why are you so obviously suspicious of him?—but the words won’t come. Breaking the silence feels...sacrilegious, somehow. Every breath of air sticks against the back of his throat.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything either, just sits at his desk and takes out his Institute-issued laptop. Stares blankly at the screen as the machine slowly, laboriously, comes to life.

-0-

Sasha’s not entirely sure how to interpret the tense atmosphere that has descended over the Archives.

The first day she’d arrived a couple of minutes before she was supposed to, prepared to follow Jon’s direction and help him adjust as best she could. (Her feelings about Jon’s promotion...didn’t matter. She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t his fault that Elias was an old-fashioned misogynist.)

But when she’d come down the stairs, Tim and the assistant she didn’t know, Martin, had been seated quietly at their desks. They’d both had the same distant, shell-shocked look on their faces, like they’d received some shattering, horrible news. Sasha had sent Tim a confused look, but he either hadn’t noticed it, or hadn’t wanted to explain.

She hadn’t even seen Jon that first day, just received a polite email asking her to start organizing the statements according to the system which he’d devised.

It’s been almost three days, and nothing has changed. Oh sure, they’ve all started organizing the statements as directed. Tim cracks jokes, Martin tiptoes around them and makes copious amounts of tea. That strange tension that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, like the world is holding its breath in anticipation, hasn’t faded though. And while she doesn’t know Martin all that well, she knows that something’s still up with Tim. He seems more subdued than usual, keeps sending uncomfortable looks in the direction of Jon’s office—

—which hasn’t been open since that first day. She hasn’t seen Jon at all either, no matter how early she arrives or how late she stays. The only proof she has that he’s still alive is the polite email she periodically receives, detailing some specific task that he wants for them to do.

Even then, his emails are...odd. She’s not sure how she can tell, but they feel...awkward? Stilted? Like he’s only half-aware of what he’s typing, or like he’s only asking them to do things because he feels like he should, not because he has any actual goal in mind.

Normally she’d be frustrated by this, would complain bitterly to Tim about Elias passing over her for someone who obviously doesn’t properly appreciate the position they’ve been given—except that she knows Jon. He’d made a point to explain the situation to her himself, an apologetic twist tucked into the corner of his mouth. More than that, he’d asked her to follow him to the archives, saying that he wanted the two people he trusted most, her and Tim, to come with him.

He respects her too much not to take this job seriously.

The strangeness of the archives is only emphasized by Jon’s complete and utter lack of presence within it, but she doesn’t—she doesn’t buy that. She doesn’t believe that he’d just suddenly decide not to do the job he’d been so anxious to excel at. 

More damning than anything is Tim’s complete, utter silence regarding Jon’s strange behavior, but whatever he knows about it, he isn’t saying anything. Martin is willing to talk, but he seems to be as lost as she is.

“I—that first day, Jon…” Martin shrugs, shooting a nervous glance toward the door leading to the archives. He’s been spending a lot of time hovering in the break room making tea, not that she can blame him. “He—I mean obviously I don’t know him very well, but he seemed...upset?”

“Upset,” Sasha repeats dubiously.

Martin lets out an exhausted sigh and turns away, waving a dismissive hand. “Look, I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. He just—okay, so, bear with me for a second, but he reminded me of this guy who used to live in my neighborhood.”

Sasha backs off, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. “Okay?”

“There was this little old couple that used to live in my neighborhood. They were—they were really sweet! The husband used to give candy to us younger kids. But um—sometimes you’d see him sitting in the rocking chair on his porch, and it was like...he wasn’t entirely there? Like, he’d just sit there for hours, rocking and staring at nothing. That’s—that’s what Jon’s expression reminded me of.”

Martin gets more animated the more he talks, Sasha notes; his hands move in broad, sweeping gestures, his expression twisting into an expression of extreme concentration. The moment he finishes he deflates again, tucking his hands into his armpits self-consciously, a hedgehog curling protectively in on itself.

“So, yeah,” he finishes eloquently.

“Huh,” Sasha says thoughtfully.

She gets back to her desk. Looks over at Tim, who’s studiously working through a box of statements, his mouth set in a neutral, concentrated frown. Takes a deep breath, letting the taste of dust and old papers sit heavy on her tongue.

Then she opens her laptop and starts looking through the catalog of cursed items that are currently being held in Artifact Storage.

(She doesn’t think that she’ll find anything, but—but just in case.)

-0-

They all get the call the next Monday morning: Elias Bouchard was found dead in his office.

#tma #iceeckos12 writes #my writing #just a little time travel au #probably wont continue this but i thought it was kinda fun

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 2)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: The First Meeting

Next Chapter: What's Your Ideal Type?

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty.

CHAPTER 2: The Rebirth

You had a hard time falling asleep that night. Your mind is trying to remember the vision, but the images remain blurry. There was a faint heat lingering from the man's body pressed against yours.

‘Could we possibly be…. It’s not impossible but….’, your mind was working 10,000 miles an hour trying to think of the possibilities. There was only one thought that came to mind and it made you blush. You pulled up the covers and snuggled against your stuffed plushies and pillows. You had to pass by the library and get permission tomorrow.

At least the weaponry was amazing. Noritoshi senpai even showed you inside and pointed you to the crossbows he often practices with. ‘He must be a capable sorcerer. The way he holds himself up with such dignity was already a dead giveaway. A natural born leader huh.’ you wondered.

You fell asleep that night dreaming about a lovely Phoenix, being reborn from ashes.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi was pacing around in his room. He had passed by the library on the way back from dinner, and grabbed several books. “The Secrets of Foreseeing the Future, Vol. 1”, “Alternate and Parallel Worlds”, “Past Lives: A Study”, and “The Life and Works of Abe no Seimei".

He paced around his dorm room, looking over the book that was bothering him the most. “The Tales and True Records of Soulmates”.

He scanned through the main parts of the book. It spoke about bonding. There apparently were 2 types of bonding, emotional and physical.

When 2 halves of a whole reach a certain degree of understanding of each other, they establish what's called a half-bond or a phantom bond.

This begins to link their emotions. Intense anger, fear, joy, disgust, sorrow, and love can be felt from the very first stage. As their bond strengthens, they begin to share more emotions, as well as short strong intentions.

Intentions are used to depict a state of being. If they have a goal or a state of feeling over a particular matter, their partner can pick up on it.

The near final stage of a full bond is when they start to share physical sensations. When one gets injured, it will resound with the other.

The strongest bond is known to share special abilities and thoughts via telepathy between a fated pair.

Noritoshi's mind was definitely in overdrive. There was SO MUCH information on soulmates. But the one thing that wasn't explicitly stated was how a soulmate pair found each other.

How do soulmates confirm that they are indeed soulmates? Most of the information was based on soulmates who simply claimed to be. Then what about how they came to be?

So now he knows that soulmates are supposedly able to share emotions and feelings to a certain degree. But there was a lack of information in the book. What about visions? The vision he shared with y/n was one of a kind.

It kept discussing how the known most popular existence were the parents of Sugawara no Michizane. One of the three great vengeful spirits that is the ancestor of the Gojo clan.

He made up his mind. Taking out his phone, he dialed up his father.

Beep. “Noritoshi? It’s so late, why are you calling at this time? It best be an urgent matter.” his father gruffly answered.

“I am sorry to disturb you father. It’s just, there is a new student here in school. A First year called Tsuchimikado y/n from the Tsuchimikado clan.”

“Ahhh, them huh? Powerful group even though there are only a few of them. They don’t really talk about their techniques that much. They are descendants of Abe no Seimei and yet they kept to themselves as a minor clan of jujutsushi… So what about her?”

“She might possibly be my soulmate, but I am still confirming. Do you have any books or records on soulmates at all?”

At this, his father sat up straight in his study. “Are you serious? And what can you say to prove such claims? Do you know how rare a soulmate bond is?”

"I am aware. And I know we may not be soulmates. But I have some suspicions. If you have any info about soulmates, The Abe clan, or the Tsuchimikado clans, I would appreciate it." Noritoshi replied.

"Okay. I'll have a look and get back to you. Feel free to come by the main house this weekend. Look over the main study. There are also some records on Soulmates there."

"Thank you father. Have a good evening."

Beep.

Noritoshi sighed. He undid his hair bindings and combed out his hair. And opened the book again. He read through the table of contents in case he missed out on any major pointers.

He couldn't read the book in one sitting, because he is still reviewing for the TOEIC and improving his English.

He yawned and was about to retire to bed, remembering his promise to bring you around tomorrow, when one particular word jumped at him.

The binding process of soulmates. He quickly flipped through to the page and found out with horror that some of the pages had been torn out.

It wasn't him who did it. (Obviously). But now he has to go and tell Utahime sensei about it.

He took a closer look at the remaining few pages.

"The Binding of Soulmates. It is known to vary per pair. Some pairs found themselves to be born with a matching symbol in the inside of their arms or on their necks from birth. While others form it upon passing the first stage of -" and the page ends with a violent diagonal tear from the upper right corner to the lower left.

That's pretty much all that he can take away from the book so far. Frustrated, he decided to go to sleep. Nothing about sharing visions was mentioned so far. Maybe they weren't a fated pair after all.

But deep in his gut, Noritoshi knew that you were an important person to him. That was for sure. As he fell asleep, he shared the same dream with you. A lone Phoenix, being reborn from its ashes.

◇◇◇

The following morning, you didn't know where to meet up with Noritoshi senpai so you simply went to the same place he left you last night. On your way there, you passed by a tall robot kind of thing which spooked you. You stared at it, wondering if it was a kind of automation that serves the technical school.

To your surprise, it turned towards you and bowed while greeting, "Hello. I'm a 1st year student here at Kyoto Jujutsu Technical College. You can call me Mechamaru. Kokichi Muta is my real name, but I use robots to fight."

Your eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. "My name is Tsuchimikado Y/n, also starting here as a first year student. Pleased to meet you!" You bowed back.

“So… is your body inside that robot?” you asked him.

“No, as a result of heavenly restriction, which if you haven’t heard of yet is a means of exchange/ a binding contract, my body is elsewhere. I am controlling this robot from afar.”

Your eyes bugged, “That’s incredible! To have that much cursed energy, plus it is over such a long distance.” You were jealous as long-ranged techniques are something you try to work hard and specialise on.

“It’s not that fun being physically stuck in a basement.” Mechamaru didn’t sound too amused.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that… “ you floundered as you mentally hit yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“No need to apologize. I am used to it.” He waved it off coolly.

"You're the first other 1st year I've met Mechamaru. I wonder when the others will come. I've heard of 2 others." You wondered.

"I've already met one of them. Miwa is her name. You won't miss her with her bright blue hair." He replied. His voice was so stiff and robotic, a strange feature.

"Ohhhh I see. I'll keep that in mind!" You smiled. "I'm afraid I have somewhere to be right now, but I'll catch you around for sure! Please take care of me."

"Don't let me keep you waiting. Please also take care of me and see you around." Mechamaru waved as you ran off.

More students to meet huh. Your heart pounded in nervousness and excitement. So it was Miwa and Mechamaru so far. ‘Ugh, I’m so bad with names. I’ll surely get used to it.’ you thought to yourself.

You rounded the corner and nearly plowed through Noritoshi senpai in your haste. “Whoa there, careful,” he held his hands out in case you slipped, but you were fine. You caught yourself just before you hit his personal space.

You were surprised to see him already there, in the same clothes he was in yesterday (was that his uniform? You had yet to get yours, which had custom arrangements).

"Good morning Noritoshi-senpai!" you beamed up at him. He looked down at you amusedly, liking your bright energy. “Good morning y/n.”

Your smile grew wider upon hearing your name fall from his lips for the very first time. For a moment the both of you just stood there smiling. Then Noritoshi beckoned you to his side as you walked around the campus.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked.

"Ah yes, though it might take some time getting used to the dorm rooms here. But everything is pretty much convenient. Especially the kitchenettes in our rooms." You were still excited about starting classes.

“Did you have your uniform tailored to your liking?” You asked him.

“Ah yes, I requested a looser fit. I am used to wearing a kimono and wooden sandals at home. I simply requested for them to be made in a similar fashion for comfort. And it gives me enough space to hide all of my weapons.” He smiled gently down at you.

“Ahhh I see. I have also put in a request for my uniform, but I don’t have it yet.” you said.

“Well, it shouldn’t be too long now, classes start in 2 days after all.”

He brought you around the main gardens. “It’s so big,” you gaped, excited to train here. There was so much open space, it would be good for flying practice. “The other buildings are offices for the staff, and warehouses for special tools and materials.” He explained.

Then Noritoshi led you to a corridor with tons of doors. “These are the 3rd year classrooms. First and second year classrooms are upstairs. We can have a look if you’d like?” He asked.

You agreed. And on your way to the staircase, you came face to face with a man going down the stairs. He was incredibly tall and ripped. With his hair tied up, a scar racing down on his left eye, he grunted at Noritoshi in greeting.

He came down and faced you both, before addressing Noritoshi. “You ready for class? Is this a new student?”

“Of course I am. And she is a first year. Tsuchimikado Y/n.” Noritoshi introduced you and you quickly bowed in greeting. “You can call me Tsuchi san or just Tsuchi as I know my last name is long. It is very nice to meet you!”

Noritoshi noted that you didn’t offer to be addressed by your first name this time and felt weirdly happy.

“Todo Aoi, 2nd year. So… what man or woman is your ideal type?” He asked as he loomed over you menacingly. You barely came up to this man's chest.

….. What in the world are you getting into?

Fun fact: The Tsuchimikado Clan are indeed a real clan descended from the Abe Clan and Abe no Seimei the Onmyouji himself. I chose Abe no Seimei as a parallel to the three great vengeful spirits from whom the big 3 Jujutsu families are descendants of. As Abe no Seimei was also a major figure during the Heian period. But of course my story is a work of fiction so other than the onmyouji himself, everyone else is not real^^.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk fanfic #kamo noritoshi x you #noritoshi fluff #noritoshi angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #kamo noritoshi x reader #soulmates au #blood bound #red strings of fate