#International Memorial Society

[unita2org]

MARCO CLEMENTI SCRIVE PAROLE VUOTE SU DOMANI SULLE BRIGATE ROSSE E CASO MORO

Questa è la stella sionista di Davide disegnata da Mario Moretti sul cartello del rapimento di Michele Mincuzzi di Andrea Montella Ho letto su Domani del 16 marzo un articolo di Marco Clementi dal titolo eloquente Il rapimento di Aldo Moro è l’ossessione degli “storici da bar”, incentrato nell’attaccare tutti coloro che si sono occupati del Caso Moro e delle Brigate Rosse. Come mai tanto…

[arcanesdiary]

"-she's an adventurer at heart"

But why do they not tell us that the wanderer also misses their home almost all the time? Yes, she loves the tingle of new dawns but what about the silent searching of someplace familiar to just exist at? Why is it that they only listen to the talk of heart and not of the soul? How fast do those echoes die?

And how do we find a new home when the comfort of home is left in the past, far far behind.

So, from now on I'll write, "Yes, she is an adventurer at heart, a wanderer constantly searching for the some familiar solace "

wish I never left home... and now its not the same anymore

How privileged I am to be able to experience all the things I always dreamed as a kid. But how privileged was I to exist in that loving home, full of people, memories and happiness.

[busterkeatonsociety]

This Day in Buster…February 4, 1966

They say the memory cheats, but the memory of Mrs Maise of Buster Keaton & his family is far from amazing.  See if you can spot the truth in her story printed in Bedford, IN newspaper, the Times-Mail ;)

[all-lars-bars]

Marble Hornets AU where gradually, one by one, all of the characters get sent to the pokemon universe before they die or disappear.

Jay gets sent to Hisui though. Arceus chose him to be its specialist white boy

[uniqueartisanconnoisseur]

The Black Farmstead, 200 Years and counting!

How many families can claim to have a Bicentennial Farm listed on the National Register of Historic Places? Steve Black’s family does. He shared his beautiful family Farmstead with me and my husband Keith. Steve is a 5th generation descendent. He along with other family members, own the home and some of the surrounding farmland from 200 years ago. The Black Farmstead is located outside of…

[midwinterwings]

IW and EW is confusing

so...this isnt even remotely surprising but I'm surprised Pikachu abt it, its surprising to me.

When i initially fronted i assumed I'd act similar to in IW but that literally didn't happen. I dont recall I like writing and drawing in IW but I feel the urge to here...and I'm much cooler headed in EW.

The whiplash makes me go ":0" it's so...weird. especially since I'm still 100 percent me, but I act completely different in EW. Well at the same time the front has some...baggage left of the people who used to be here. Theyre gone. Dunno where they are.

One is something that makes me unable to talk, administered by no one, its just like a cage imposed on my mouth that snaps closed and makes me unable to use my windpipes.

Two is a person left behind made by the old host who's become his own independent being and keeps fronting, shoving me aside and bursting into the body in certain situations. Admittedly, they do a better job than me but it's still violating as I have no choice except to be an observer.

Three...the fact I'm...even thinking so much, is...uncharacteristic. Well, I wasn't exactly devoid of braincells back in IW, but like...I definetly didnt think as much. Especially about plurality. It's unnerving to realize I'm one person and there's others as well who may front in future. Because i feel like one guy if no one else is around, but I know it's not true because I can access memories of the previous fronters and they thought they were the only one too. I can't really talk to the other people. I know I'm technically an alter formed due to trauma of the EW body and past but I only know this from the information base and...thing is, my life is completely different to the EW's and especially since the person who was around during the early years of the External body's life, has gone or died or something. He's just not here so me and the others who aren't fronting are just left with...ourselves, since the fact we exist is coz of that trauma that none of us acrually experienced. Oh, and the memories left behind and stored. So I do have the memories to look into but thats it.

Im not really...conscious of the fact I was formed from EW body's trauma. I get it conceptually but not actually. Coz, you see, I got a whole world I belong in, relationships, a past. I straight up identify 0% of me with the External world body's experience and past...to me the trauma was just kinda the conduit of how I am created but its not important to me at all.

There is some things that jar me. Namely my current fixation on plurality since like...I...wait nvm.

Its coz I'm not a facet I'm a whole person. I dont feel like part of a whole. I'm my own individual. And I'm aware of others coz they appear and because I can access memories in the info base, not very well but enough. And I also get mega pissed off if the same stuff that was the reason the system was a system and not a singlet happens again to me, and I feel kind of...an ancient kind of rage. One I as a singular person didn't create, more of the rage and disappointment left over by one of the people who was in the system long ago. In those moments I see the memories of that person as 'mine', usually I don't do that. I can see memories from former fronters but as a spectator although it's first person.

I guess the rage caused by the same triggers that created the external body's early trauma is deeply rooted in all of us, whoever fronts or is 'conscious' and not doing their own thing in innerworld.

The confusing thing is when that happens I kind of revert to singlet mode and kind of...embody the old alter naturally, the one who pretended to be the only one, basically rping as a singlet and adding all external world events and treating them as 'their experiences' and trying to be 'normal' I, on my own, don't identify with a lot of stuff EW body went through. Purely because it literally didn't happen to me in a Literal sense, and that's coz I was only fully formed a few days ago. So it couldn't happen to me. That being said I do feel what the old alter/s felt so it's kinda like being there but I wasn't actually there, still, I do feel their emotions from that trauma strongly at times and from an outside standpoint you couldn't tell the stuff didnt happen to ME, in a Literal sense.

so what am I getting at here. Its that it's pokemon gasp, kind of a surprise and shock fronting after the old fronter was aware of me existing (they thought I was a character they created)

because stuff is just...totally different from what I'm used to. I act different too and like different things. Then again it's not completely true because the things i do in EW are similar to a lot of stuff I did in IW as a young kid, but its been long since I've been that kid, I barely even remember I was him most of the time due to shit that happened in IW. I guess, doing something I used to do as a young kid and feeling a sense of whiplash and discomfort is actually very simular to if it was in IW and my entire point isn't valid.

-> so in fact jts more...on the surface I act different in EW than IW but acrually I do the same things just in a different context and stuff.

-T

[icarrymany]

i have this disease where i 100% believe jay merrick is gay but i also think he has way too much going on to even remember that he is 💔 bro has one (1) moment of down time and his world spins because he thinks his friend is hot and he has the 'holy shit im gay' realization AGAIN. operator memory loss just eating his brain he does NOT remember college at all late series

[eliesczhae]

From $1 a day to $21 an hour

It seems impossible for this to happen.

But happen, it did. It happened to me.

Actually, it wasn't even a dollar. It was less than that. I was serving food, washing dishes, sweeping the floor, scrubbing toilet bowls, and occasionally getting sexually harassed by drunk customers for twelve fucking hours to get paid a mere $0.75 back when I was 16.

Once I broke a glass, and it cost me two days' wages to pay it off.

How miserable.

But I slaved away because what choice do beggars like me have?

When one asks if I ever had a dream job, I always stutter and fail to answer.

You know why?

Because I do not dream to be a fucking slave, working my ass off for someone else to get fucking rich.

Who does that?

I've had several odd jobs after that. Quit school, went back, and quit school again because there was just not enough money to support my education. And home life isn't great either.

Eventually, days before turning 18, a friend called me up and said, "Yo, you have good comms skills, why not apply where I'm interning at?". She was doing an internship at a local BPO company. A call center, if you may.

I was like, damn, bro. Why not?

A couple of years later, I discovered the world of freelancing and I'm now earning an astronomically higher wage than my younger self ever did.

Thanks to my experience and skills acquired in the BPO industry, the change wasn't very hard.

I'm not saying the journey was easy. I was working for several clients at the same time just to secure that bag because I'd never been presented with these many opportunities before and had never experienced getting paid this much ever in my entire life.

$21 an hour may not be much for some but the conversion to my local currency is eye-bulging.

I was mind-blown.

And then, I almost died.

I was overworked, blood shot up high.

I'm done.

I don't wanna work myself to death. This isn't the life I envisioned for me.

It's been almost 5 years since I started earning this much and I still catch myself sitting in the middle of my room asking myself if any of this is real or if it's just a simulation.

I've given up most of my clients and chosen my health and mental well-being.

I don't want to work myself to death. This isn't the life I envisioned for me. Didn't my younger self hate slaving myself away so much?

I wanna live my life now.

Nowadays, people see my success and say I'm lucky.

Some would say they want to be me.

Oh, honey. I highly doubt it!

As I was saying, the money is there, and I'm grateful for it. I use it to help better my family and friends' lives. Alleviate their sufferings and make them happy. Give to the less fortunate and so on.

We're all gonna die anyway, what use is it to keep it stashed away?

Don't get me wrong, I do have insurance and savings. I'm not financially irresponsible.

Maybe I do splurge quite a bit on games and books and sometimes travel because it heals my inner child.

But nothing has changed.

I still do not have a dream job.

My dream is to quietly create art, make music, read books, enjoy shows, see the world, and help people.

My younger self is proud of the adult me for my achievements.

But the adult me is even more proud of my younger self for not succumbing to the void.

Had it not been for you, I would not be where I am now and enjoying everything that I have, can have, and will have.

Emotional turmoil is labor.

An extremely hard one.

Happy labor day!

[its-rach-writes]

Cinnamon and Art Galleries - Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your friend, Emily brings a cute stranger to your art exhibition.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, probably ooc Spencer

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this! This was my first time writing for Spencer so he's probably out of character but please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

You smiled as you drew the cat in the hot chocolate foam and handed it to the little girl on the other side of the counter with her mom. It melted your heart when her face lit up and she waved at you as her mom steered her out of the café. It was slow in your café today but you didn’t mind, you used the time to set up for the beginner art class you were going to be teaching on Saturday.

“Hey girl,” you glanced up when the bell rang and your friend Emily walked in.

You smiled when you saw her and gave her a wave. She was the first friend you had made when you moved to DC.

“Hey,” you smiled, “having the usual?”

“Please,” she grinned.

You got to work, making her one black coffee, the other was a milky coffee with a shot of cinnamon syrup. You knew that Emily drank the black coffee so you couldn’t help but wonder who the overly sweet coffee was for. You carefully selected the cinnamon roll with the most frosting and slid it into a bag, being careful to not let it stick to the paper bag.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Emily started and you scoffed with a laugh.

As soon as you found out your art was going to be featured in an exhibition, Emily was the first person you told, “the team are coming to see it.”

You raised an eyebrow, secretly you were grateful, “FBI Agents don’t have anything better to do?”

She laughed, “not tonight, I even managed to talk the good Dr into coming.”

“The elusive Spencer Reid?” you rested your hip against the counter as you handed her the coffees, “how did you manage that?” from what Emily had told you, it didn’t seem like Spencer Reid liked social situations.

“I’ve got killer interrogation skills,” she smirked, “he’s cute too.”

You internally groaned, yours and Emily’s definition of ‘cute’ were very different, for all you knew Spencer Reid was an aging Professor, “as long as you don’t try and set us up, like you tried with me and Morgan.”

“No promises,” she laughed as she backed out of the café, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Later that night, you were sipping champagne as people perused your exhibition, your paintings were both inspired by Pre-Raphaelite art and the King Arthur legends. You noticed a man was standing at your painting of the Knights of the Round Table, so you walked over and decided to strike up a conversation.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” his lips twitched into a small smile as he looked down at you with gorgeous deep brown eyes, “you’re the artist right?” when you nodded, he looked back at the painting, “you’re really good.”

“Thanks, I love Pre-Raphaelite art.”

“Did you know that the Pre-Raphaelites were a secret society of young artists, founded in London in 1848? They were opposed to the Royal Academy’s promotion of the ideal as exemplified in the work of Raphael,” he blurted this out like he’d memorised it from a textbook and you worked hard to conceal a laugh.

“I did know that,” you giggled.

“Right of course,” he flushed, “of course you knew that.”

Something struck a memory, something that Emily had told you, “wait, are you Spencer Reid?” he looked at you with slightly wary eyes before nodding and you smiled, “I’m Y/N, Emily has told me so much about you.”

“It’s all lies,” he joked and glanced over his shoulder, “she’s making the most of the bar right now.”

You laughed as you looked over too and she waved, lifting up a glass in a motion of cheers. When she had said Spencer was cute, it was an understatement, he was young and gorgeous.

“Are you interested in art?” you asked as you sipped your champagne.

Spencer nodded, “I like looking at it, I’m afraid I’m not very artistic.”

“And here, we thought you were perfect,” you heard a chuckle from over your shoulder and you turned to see Derek Morgan and the rest of the BAU, Morgan pulled you into a hug, “congratulations sweetheart.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you pulled away and looked at the others, “thank you for coming.”

It was a great night and you were grateful for everyone that came but soon, you were starting to get overwhelmed so you went out onto the balcony for a cigarette. Though it seemed as though someone else had beaten you to it. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced over his shoulder and smiled at you.

“Hey, you want some company?”

“Sure,” he smiled.

There was comfortable silence for a while as both of you looked over at the lights of DC, your cigarette smoke curling in the air. Soon enough, Spencer spoke up.

“So what do you do? Is art your full time thing?”

“I own the café by the library, but I’m integrating art into the café, I’m teaching a beginner class at the weekend from there.”

“No way! Seriously?” he smiled, looking animated, “your coffee is so good and your cinnamon rolls? Amazing.”

You laughed, “Emily gets the cinnamon roll with the most frosting for you?”

“Yeah,” he flushed, he opened his mouth to say something else when he was interrupted by Aaron Hotchner.

“Reid, we just got called in,” he glanced at you, an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“No, it’s okay,” you smiled when Spencer pushed himself off the railing, “it was really nice to meet you Spencer.”

He flushed and offered you a shy smile, “it was nice to meet you too, I’ll see you soon?”

You nodded and Emily pulled you into a tight hug, whispering in your ear, “I’ll make sure he sees you soon,” you laughed, shaking your head as she pulled away.

On Saturday, you were setting up for the art class when you heard the tinkle of the bell and you glanced up. None other than Spencer Reid was standing in the open doorway, the sun like a halo around his head.

“Thought you might need a hand.”

[linkspooky]

PITY VS. EMPATHY

Jujutsu Kaisen Chapter 265 quickly surpassed Gojo's death chapter as my favorite chapter in the entire manga. It's a high point in both Yuji's character development and the Sukuna fight, a notion most of the fandom agrees with. That being said, it's once again time for me to take a stance contrary to most of the fandom opinion. I was going to make this post two weeks ago but I'm glad I waited, because this week's chapter helps me illustrate my point in the contrasting way Yuji treats Sukuna and Megumi.

As you can probably tell by the title, my hot take of the week is that what Yuji is showing Sukuna isn't true empathy. It's not atn attempt to understand Sukuna's worldview, but rather condescending pity from a place looking down on Sukuna, which is why it infuriates him so much. This is illustrated in Yuji's atual actions this chapter, which is to go at great length to show memories from his past to make Sukuna understand HIM and not the other way around.

Whereas, what Yuji shows Megumi is compassion, because he's not telling Megumi what to feel or imposing his own views on him but rather accepting the fact that Megumi might be suffering too much to keep living on.

I'll explain more under the cut:

Guanyin, Goddess of Mercy

Yuji is, not as far along in his character development as he might seem. I don't want to undervalue his growth, this chapter shows definite progress, and I understand why it would seem that this is the completion of his arc of being a cog in society because he straight up says people don't need roles, and it seems like the manga is quickly coming to a close.

However, sometimes characters words don't exactly match their actions. Sometimes characters aren't self aware. People often call characters multi-layered and complex, but what does that mean exactly? For me, a mutli-layered character is the embodiment of "people are never what they appear to be."

A story has multiple layers when you're not supposed to take everything the author says at face value. Every time you read a story, whether you are aware of it or not you engage in some level of personal interpretation. You're not supposed to automatically accept everything the author feeds you without question. Therefore characters are not exactly what they are stated to be, and good character writing allows room for interpretation for what is going on in a character's head beneath the surface.

In a jungian sense this would be the ice berg model of consciousness. There's the persona, or the ego, which is what the person presents to the world and the people around them. Their own-self conceived image. Then there's the part of the ice berg that submerged, which accounts for all of their internal mechanisms and facets of their personality they aren't aware of. This could range from anything to like, how trauma can affect people's actions without them realizing it, things they are in denial of and don't want to admit to themselves or just like someone who's bossy but not self-aware about that trait until someone else points it out for them.

Everyone's have that friend who you try to call them out on their bad behavior, but no matter how hard you try they just won't admit it. That alone illustrates there's a difference between self-perception, how we view ourselves, behavior - how we actually interact with the world, and pther people's perception of us. Somewhere in between these multiple points of view there exists a vague outline of a person, and personality, whatever "personality" means exactly.

To step away from Jung, in a character writing sense this means a good character's motivations, personality, and actions can be viewed from multiple angles. There is conflict between how Yuji views himself, his actual actions in the story, how other characters might view him, and how he's framed in the story. The first two, Yuji's self-assigned roles, and what his actual actions amount to is a conflict that's run over the entire story.

It starts from chapter three, where Yuji's answer for why he wants to become a sorcerer is that he wants to fulfill his grandfather's dying wish, and Yaga immediately says "Is that what you really believe, or are you just using your grandfather as an excuse?" The story shows us Yaga was right to point out the discord between Yuji's stated motivation and his actual desires because Yuji changes his answer.

This stated motivation, "To do something that only I can do", or have a role as another way of putting it is Yuji's central motivation for most of the manga. Of course as I said people have multiple layers, so he can also have multiple motivations. Yuji's desire to have a good death, him wanting to be surrounded by people when he dies, his belief that fulfilling his role as a sorcerer will save other people from curses, all of these things are equally true but that one desire to have a role to play in the grand scheme of things is at the center of it.

The role Yuji has chosen is to kill curses so people can have more natural deaths, and also to stop more victims of curses from piling up. He's also resolved from the start to die with Sukuna in his body, to also spare victims of curses Sukuna might attract, and also kill Sukuna for good.

Even these stated motions are challenged right away, and then again continually through the comic.

I'm not going to go over Yuji's entire arc here, but the fact that Yuji is someone constantly interrogated for his motivations and even punished in story for his altruism is a constant pattern in his character arc.

It extends deeper than just the fact that Yuji is a selfless person in a world where selfish people like Mei Mei, and Sukuna get ahead while people like Nanami die young. A world where it is in your best interest to stick out your neck for others.

For me a lot of the harsh consequences Yuji's conflict in the story also centers around the fact that he can never live up to the role that he has assigned himself. Not only is Yuji mistaken in his perception of himself, but the fandom in general is as well, because most people tend to take Yuji's stated desire to guide people to good deaths and save them at face value.

For example, people were excited to point out the Guanyin symbolism directly referenced this chapter, and also the significance of the seal for Yuji's domain.

There is much speculation, but it seems certain that this hand sign is an invocation of Ksitigarbha, a revered bodhisattva in East Asian Buddhism. Ksitigarbha is also known as Jizo Bodhisattva in Japan. His name can be translated as Earth Womb, Earth Matrix, and Earth Store. These translations evoke the image of a vessel, which seems relevant to Yuji's role as Sukuna's vessel.

While I agree the symbolism is well suited for Yuji's goals, someone who wished to guide people to a more peaceful death, and also the way Yuji opposes Sukuna right now determined to kill him who lingers in this world as a parasite for a thousand years finally back to the cycle of reincarnation. It even alligns with his desire to try and make Sukuna understand the value in one individual's life by showing him his memories. In that way Yuji is fitting the role of someone guiding others to enlightenment.

However, Yuji is not a bodhivista in the end. He is a normal teenage boy. In fact this is the crux of Yuji's character to me, he is a good kid, but he's not as good as he thinks he is. If anything this is what this chapter goes to great length to demonstrate, that Yuji despite being a science experiment to create the perfect vessel for Sukuna for Kenjaku's 1,000 year plan, had a normal childhood. All of the things Yuji says in this chapter are for the most parts the musing of a normal kid his age.

This isn't me criticizing Yuji. I'm just trying to state the message I believe Gege is getting across in this chapter. It's similiar to the conclusion Yuji himself comes to, the conclusion that the value in life lies in the memories you make on a day to day basis, even if you're not living a life full of adventure.

Yuji's conflict is that he pursues the role of a bodhisvatta, and he holds himself to the standard too of someone who exists to be a sorcerer because by doing his job as a sorcerer people will get saved as a result. However, Yuji as a person will always fall short of this ideal, because ideals by the nature of them being IDEAL and therefore not compatible with reality.

To use an example for another media, it doesn't matter how hard Shirou Emiya strives to save others, or how selfless he tries to be, he will always fall short because the ideal of saving absolutely everyone is impossible. However, in most versions of Fate's story Shirou absolutely refuses to compromise on this and in the future, Shirou will continue to strive towards the ideal of saving everyone until his inability to achieve that ideal and the number of people he's failed to save eventually breaks him.

So Yuji may genuinely hold onto an unbreakable ideal, but is his inability to let go of that ideal necessarily a good thing? His ideal might break but what about Yuji as a person? Yuji will in the end always fall short of that ideal because of his humanity, especially since Yuji is the most human character in the story and practically the only one with a normal background.

There's also as I stated above Yuji might not be aware himself of the ways he falls short of his ideal, because he has a flawed self perception. Yuji is getting closer with his revelation in this chapter of looking at reality instead of trying to have a role like a character in the story, but that doesn't mean he's finished (since the story's not finished) or he's become a fully realized character.

One of my favorite quotes from my favorite Yuji video helps describe the point I'm getting at with Yuji's lack of self awareness and the way he sometimes falls short of the savior he sees himself as.

By assigning himself the role as heroes, and the other characters as victims to be saved Yuji sort of condescends to the people he endeavors to save. I describe this as condescending because this way he doesn't see the people he saves as fully fleshed out human beings who are separate individuals from himself.

Yuji is alligned with Higuruma of all people, someone who shares Yuji's savior complex and becomes disillusioned because the people he decided of his own free will to protect as a defense attorney are not perfect victims.

Someone who becomes disillusioned when looking at flaws in other people, and also cannot deal with his own guilt when he too, becomes like the crimminals he once defended after becoming a murderer.

In fact Yuji sees himself in Higuruma's inability to live with his guilt, and only being able to see himself atoning with his death. Yet, despite Yuji seeing himself Yuji also seems uneasy with Higuruma being unable to see one other way forward in life.

Also, remember that Higuruma is a defense attorney. The whole point is he's supposed to defend crimminals even if he knows they did the crime and try to get them off their sentence and win the trial. Therefore at this moment Higuruma has failed to live up to his ideal.

There's another character Yuji is paralleled to constantly, who also shares Yuji's symbolism of being associated with a divine, and benevolent figure.

Geto's ears, his dressing as a monk in a Gojo-gesa, this official art all connect Geto to be Budha and yet it's quite obvious that Geto has failed entirely to live up to his role as the budha.

There's so much symbolism aligning Geto as a divine figure bringing salvation to others, and this corresponds to his original ideal as a sorcerer who belived that sorcerers had an obligation to use their powers to protect others, because in a just society the strong protect the weak.

Geto is an outsider who wasn't born into the Jujutsu World who entered in with an attitude different from most sorcerers by trying to become a sorcerer for altruistic reasons. However, Geto, like Higuruma grows disillusioned when he's confronted with the fact that the people he wants to save are flawed.

However, Geto's ideal was mistaken to begin with because much like Yuji, by distinctly separating people into the weak and the strong, he's separating them into two categories where the former is inherently inferior to the latter. Other people existed to be saved by Geto. He couldn't cope with the fact that the people he wanted to save were people and not victims.

So we finally circle back to chapter 265 where Yuji is attempting to relate to Sukuna and see some humanity in him... or is he?

Yuji shares the same flaw of both Geto, and Higuruma where he sees the people he wants to save as existing in a separate category than himself. So, is what Yuji is offering Sukuna understanding and an attempt to emotionally reach out to him, or is he attempting to show Sukuna the mercy of a conqueror.

Even if Yuji wins the battle and spares Sukuna's life in the end, it won't be Yuji's compassion or empathy that won him the fight. If Yuji wins against Sukuna it's simply because he's stronger. Yuji only feels confident trying to offer Sukuna in the first place because this time he's finally confident he's stronger. It's mercy, offered at a threat with the same time. Yuji, like Geto, is still separating people in categories of strong and weak, he's just showing mercy to someone he now considers weaker than him which is why Sukuna reacted the way he did.

As I said above, Sukuna begins by just assuming that Yuji had just let go of his anger, and was now trying to reach out to him on some other way. He calls him weak for being unable to keep hating his worst enemy, because in Sukuna's world view Yuji should keep hating him and wanting to defeat him with all his strength to the end. Sukuna mistakenly believes for a moment that Yuji is the kind of person who, cannot sustain his anger even towards his worst enemy.

It's when he realizes that Yuji is just showing him simple pity that he snaps. Yuji doesn't care for understanding Sukuna's worldview or seeing the humanity in him, in the same chapter he says he can't forgive people who act like lives are worthless.

To Yuji's credit he admits he doesn't really know which side of the fight is truly human, or whether or not he's right, he admits it's his own personal belief. A lot of Yuji's wisdom this chapter, I'd argue, comes from admitting the things he does not know, and acknowledging that there's no objective truth or "meaning" to the world. However, he still separates people into "good guys, and bad guys".

Yuji isn't actually that interested in considering the perspective of those he considers the "bad guys" he just still had a faint hope that he could somehow convince Sukuna to see worth in his life by sharing memories, therefore convince Sukuna that an individual's life can have value.

He doesn't want to understand what Sukuna thinks, he wanted to change the way Sukuna thought so it was more like himself. Yuji doesn't ask Sukuna any real questions about himself while exploring his memories. Kind of ironic, because for some reason Sukuna of all people was patiently listening and even engaging Yuji in conversation while he went through the most mundane memories of his childhood.

Irony on top of irony, Yuji's worldview does resemble Sukuna's in some ways. They're supposed to mirror each other after all, Yuji is literally the son of his identical twin brother reincarnated. First and foremost Yuji's offer of mercy isn't really breaking away from Sukuna's ultimate ideal of "Might Makes Right." Yuji isn't seeking some other way of settling this besides fighting Sukuna, he's going to make Sukuna submit because he's stronger.

Maybe there was no hypothetical "third way" for Yuji to put down Sukuna other than fist fighting him into submission. There probably wasn't, Sukuna's pretty up front what he's about, and what he's about is being the strongest and nothing more. He lives and dies by violence, a Sukuna who isn't the strongest is nothing more than a corpse so can that person be reached? However, I just wanted to point out that Yuji wasn't interest in solving this in any way other than a fist fight to begin with. As opposed to say, the way that Takaba handled Kenjaku taking a third route by making Kenjaku feel entertained for the first time in 1,000 years.

In the middle of that fight Takaba even APOLOGIZES to Kenjaku, for saying that it doens't matter if he doesn't understand his audience and he fails to make 1% of them laugh as long as the other 99% of them are laughing and states it's his duty to make everyone laugh otherwise he's failed as a comedian.

Yet, another reason why this is the greatest fight in the manga. Yuta even remarks in the end that Takaba isn't someone who can kill people. Not only does his cursed technique negate most damage to him by turning it into cartoonish antics, but Takaba's comedy is also all about understanding his audience and trying to get his audience to understand him because his comedy began when he clowned around as a kid when he was lonely. All of this to say we've been shown more points of view than just "Might makes Right" and there are characters who've resolved conflicts in other ways. Kenjaku is also, probably as monstrous as Sukuna, and yet Takaba engaged him right from the start by asking him about his motivations and if there was some other way he'd be happy than the merger.

You could argue that maybe Sukuna can't be understood. Characters in the story certainly try to and all they amount to doing is projecting their own ideas onto Sukuna. Yorozu projects her obsession with love onto Sukuna and we get the idea that Sukuna must somehow be lonely at the top, but in the end Gege subverts this expectation by showing us that Sukuna was never lonely, rather characters like Kashimo and Gojo projected their feelings of unresolved loneliness onto him. They are strong, and he is strong, ergo he must feel the same crushing loneliness as them. Gojo himself demosntrates not understanding Sukuna as he expresses regret in the afterlife that he was unable to make Sukuna go all out and that he related to that guy's loneliness only for Sukuna's response to be a very gratified "You cleared my skies."

Sukuna: Others love us for our strength, and we respond to that love.

The twist of that is Kashimo and by extension the audience assume that Sukuna must not understand love, and therefore he's lonely. However, Sukuna all along had his own definition of love, that people express their love and admiration for him by trying to fight him and he receives their love by facing them at his full strength and giving them the chance to prove themselves. Sukuna's habit of toying with his opponents is an extension of this he wants to see them realize their full potential in their fights with him. Sukuna does understand love, he just REJECTS our understanding of love. Sukuna does not think in the way that we do, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have things he values, or is devoid of positive traits. Respect for his opponents, honoring strength, these are all values they're just not Yuji's values.

As stated above, the irony of all this is that Yuji does buy into "Might makes Right" to an extent. To reiterate, following Geto's "the strong exist to protect the weak" still divides people into two categories strong and weak and implies the weak are helpless. A benevolent might makes right, as you might say. Yuji wants to show compassion to the weak, but he also loathes weakness, he loathes himself for being weak.

"There still may be lots of people who are weak like you."

Higuruma even points out the flaw in his mindset, well if you loathe yourself for being weak, then what about other people who are weak do you loathe them too? I think it's no coincidence that Yuji is paralleled not one, but two (Geto, Higuruma) people who tried to use their strength in benevolent ways only to start out loathing the people they were trying to help. I'm not saying that Yuji secretly hates weak people, but his mindset of black and white, weak and strong, a mindset that can't accept the greys of reality is a dangerous mindset to have and Yuji has the potential to become like those two.

However, these parallels exist for us the audience to see just how close Yuji was to repeating the cycle, because it makes it that much more meaningful when Yuji grows in ways that Geto and Higuruma doesn't to move one step forward towards breaking that cycle instead.

Yuji is someone who experiences the same loneliness as Sukuna and Gojo for being the strongest, though to a lesser extent because he wasn't born into the realm of sorcerers. At the start of the manga we're introduced to Yuji a kid who despite being someone friendly to everyone he meets and incredibly social, has a friend group consisting of two friends. Two friends who hang out with him because they need a third member for their occult club. Yuji for the whole manga excluding one exception really only knows how to form relationships based on someone else needing him.

Noritoshi Kamo: Itadori why did you become a Jujutsu Sorcerer? Itadori Yuji: It just sort of happened. i'm a loner. I wanna help a lot of people so when I die I'll be surrounded by people.

Yuji has also appeared in flashbacks in early culling game as someone who doesn't really understand, or even take notice of weak people. Yuji in Amai Rin's flashback is beating up bullies, a heroic notion, but from the perspective of somone spineless like Amai who was just going along with the bullies so he himself wouldn't be bullied because he didn't have the strength to stand up with them, and wasn't born with the body of an MMA fighter at fifteen, Yuji looks scary.

The reason why reducing people to labels like strong and weak is reductive is that humans are complex and contradictory creatures. Let's take Amai Rin for example, an incredibly minor character. In the real world, Amai Rin would be someone as equally complex as Gojo Satoru. Amai Rin a middle school bully would have just as many layers to his personality, inconsistencies, contradictory behavior, different sides of himself as Gojo Satoru himself.

Humans are complex in the first place because we can't see inside their heads, we can only see inside our own heads and know that we're complex and sometimes say things we don't mean, behave differently depending on the situation, do things we're not proud of, but we also usually don't perceive others the same way because we are not inside their heads like our own. Amai Rin is just as complex and multifaceted a human being as Gojo Satoru, he is a person with his own memories and life experiences that shape him, but from Gojo's worldview Amai Rin is a minor character. By reducing him into someone weak, Gojo doesn't care to try understanding him.

So Yuji for the longest time does not try to see the humanity in weak people (except for his big moment with Junpei) he just sees them as people to be saved. Which is why his real moment of progress to me comes the next chapter, with the way he shows empathy to Megumi.

Yuji begins when speaking to Megumi by relating his frustration with his grandfather for not wanting to go through chemo and accepting his own death in old age. Yuji is now mature enough to understand that just because his young body is tough enough to endure chemo, doesn't mean an old man's body can withstand that pain. When he was young Yuji had a very immature viewset of "Well, I can endure it, so why can't they?"

Yuji then compares the situation with his grandfather to Megumi. Yuji wanted his grandfather to keep living, so he couldn't understand why he wouldn't even try the chemo. Yuji wants Megumi to keep living, but he now understand why Megumi wants to give up. Yuji' fe elings of wanting Megumi to live are not more important than Megumi's own feelings of despair and wanting to escape pain.

Yuji is no longer imposing his feelings onto Megumi. Yuji is respecting Megumi's feelings, because in the end he can't FORCE Megumi to live. It has to be Megumi's choice whether he wants to live or not.

Yuji is no longer pushing Megumi away, or acting protective of him, while disregarding his feelings. He has gone from "as long as I'm around you'll suffer" to "I'll be lonely without you." Yuji doesn't ASK Megumi to live even though he wants to, because he knows he can't tell Megumi to keep on living. What Yuji does is just an honest expression of his own feelings. He's sharing his own feelings after listening to Megumi's ideal life with Tsumiki and Yuji, because that's what empathy is, an exchange, a conversation.

People often jokingly use the term "yap sessh" on Twitter, but yeah that's the different between a conversation and a "yap sessh" in the former you actually care what the other person has to say, in a latter it's only about expressing your own opinion.

That's why this panel, is such a perfect contrast with this panel.

One is Yuji offering Megumi a choice. The other is Gojo taking Megumi's choices away by giving him the false choice of "go to the Zen'in Clan and be a sorcerer and your sister will be abused, or come with me and be a sorcerer." Gojo railroaded Megumi into being a sorcerer and never let him decide for himself if he wanted a normal life. Gojo didn't see Megumi as his own person either, he, just like the Zen'in Clan just saw Megumi as the holder of the Ten Shadows Technique.

This is entirely different to Yuji who respects Megumi's feelings. Yuji expresses that he'll be lonely without Megumi, but that's just laying the cards on the table. In the end Yuji leaves what happens next entirely in Megumi's hands. Yuji cannot tell Megumi to live, even though he wants him to live so badly, he cannot tell Megumi to just get stronger and keep on trucking because he's not Megumi, he's not experiencing Megumi's pain right now.

Yuji does not tell Megumi to live and therefore becomes the first person in Megumi's entire life to give him a choice. This choice is the most important choice of all, a choice we make every day of our lives. The choice of whether we want to keep on living in this world.

Hopefully, Megumi chooses yes.

[encodedkismet]

hey shout out to plurals with "frustrating" or "socially bad" traits.

plurals who seem indecisive, "hot and cold", disloyal, dishonest, etc. to others due to subtle switches, passive influence, being median, amnesia barriers, etc. between headmates with very different opinions, wants, and moods

plurals who have headmates with "scary" attributes/symptoms, like hallucinations, delusions, anger issues, hypersexuality, low/no empathy, selfishness, need for attention, etc. especially those afraid they're perpetuating the "evil alter" stereotype

plurals who never know who's fronting. especially those with memory barriers, those who struggle with feeling any sense(s) of personhood, and/or those who struggle to keep close bonds with people due to this

plurals who struggle with meltdowns, tantrums, outbursts, pathological demand avoidance, poor sense of social norms, and other tendencies/issues that make being social or just existing in public difficult

plurals with fluctuating sexualities and/or triggers that make it difficult to remain with a partner/partners (or to date in the first place)

plurals who infight in-system and have trouble making decisions without intense internal backlash

plurals who have trouble keeping self care (and may go out of the house dirty/disheveled) due to other mental illness or due to frequent fronters being unmotivated, forgetful, or having sensory issues or triggers that interfere with self care tasks

plurals whose "self defense" relies on people pleasing, avoiding stressors, getting overly defensive, or getting angrier than "reasonable"

i write a lot of this cause i need to hear it, and i figure others do too. you are loved, you are appreciated, you deserve to be a part of society, you deserve to be happy, you deserve to be understood and given patience... you deserve to be able to create, love, heal, be respected, be treated like your own age, to lead, to have a voice, to feel safe.

[whatonearthisgoingon]

Gravity Falls animatics

If anyone is interested, and because of the rise in Gravity Falls content, here's some fun stuff made by the Gravity Falls Fandom from YT and Tumblr:

Canonish Angst and issues: - "Take a Slice - Gravity Falls Animation" by achromaticEgoist on YT, @achromaticegoist on Tumblr. - Topic: Weirdmagedon. - "Achilles Come Down | Gravity Falls animatic" by nogiiarts yt on YT. - Topic: Ford's research/past and the Pines family - (It's back!) A Sadness Runs Through Him - a Gravity Falls PMV" by Kinseis on YT, @kinseis on Tumblr - Topic: An au representation of the relationship between Ford and Dipper, with Bill's negative influence - "DR. GASTER // BOOK OF BILL PMV" by mistxmood on YT, @mistxmood on Tumblr - Topic: Bill's time in theraprism vs. how the pines are doing after Weirdmagedon, a brief summary of deals and Weirdmagedon, and Ford finding the Book of Bill. - "Sleep Walk | Gravity falls animatic" by Hoodedjelly on YT, @hoodedjelly on Tumblr. - Topic: Young Ford and Bill, the abuse from Bill to Ford. - "Sleepwalk | Gravity Falls Animatic" by InkcapAnimation on YT, - Topic: Young Ford, Fiddleford, and Bill; the abuse from Bill to Ford. - "Real as Ever" by @heyitsspiders on Tumblr. - Topic: The abuse and control of Ford from Bill. - "DRUNK (Gravity Falls Animation)" by marineflames on YT - Topic: Bill's possession of Ford and Dipper. - "Devil's Train (Gravity Falls Animatic)" by YannyDo on YT. - Topic: Bill introducing himself to Ford. - "CONFRONTATION Bill Cipher and Ford Animation (CW FLASHING LIGHTS)" by marineflames on YT. - Topic: The internal battle of control between Ford and Bill, and the abuse from Bill to Ford. - "THE FINE PRINT / Billford / Gravity Falls / Animatic" by Plantain_Xd on YT. - Topic: The deal between Bill and Ford, the abuse from Bill to Ford, and Weirdmagedon.

The Mystery Trio and Bill: - "Double life animation meme // Gravity Falls [I KNOW U HEARD THE RUMORS]" by KimukoDoesALot on YT. - Topic: A quick summary of all the on screen possessions we see, along with the Still Bill Theory. - "Gravity Falls | Colors" by Typhord on YT, art by @kiki-kit on Tumblr. - Topic: A history of the two Stans, Ford's research, and Stanley's effort to get Ford back. - "BEZOS | Gravity Falls Animation Meme | cw bright colors, flashing, strong language" by Possumbreath on YT. - Topic: Fiddleford Mcgucket and his Cult: The Society of the Blind Eye. - "The Gun | Gravity Falls Animatic/ Storyboard (LOUD AND FLASHING)" by Clever Reference on YT, @call-me-clevy on Tumblr. - Topic: Fiddleford and Ford fight over the memory gun. - "The World's Greatest Actor - GF Animatic" by tendebill_exe on YT. - Topic: Stan's life. - "Drift Away || Gravity Falls Animatic" by CosmicCrossing on YT, @shima-draws on Tumblr. - Topic: Stan and Ford's relationship slowly drifting apart, then the reunion.

Bill behavior and past: - "BILL CIPER REANIMATED | Gravity Falls [Flashing Lights]" by R0V1 on YT. - Topic: A reanimation of Bill Cipher's "death scene" in Gravity Falls. - "The mind electric // gravity falls // bill cipher // billford animation" by H3MI on YT. - Topic: Bill using his talents of manipulation to gain sympathy from the AXOLOTL, his interference in the Pines family's lives, and his failure at Weirdmagedon. - "THERE I AM AGAIN! (Bill cipher animation)" by CandySwirl on YT. - Topic: Bill's appearances in the Gravity Falls world. - "THE ACCIDENT - GRAVITY FALLS / THE BOOK OF BILL AMV" by PeteyTheParrot on YT, @peteytheparrot on Tumblr. - Topic: Bill being moved to Theraprism, and the destruction of his dimension. - "GOOD LUCK BABE | Gravity Falls Animation" by nntsu on YT, @nntsu on Tumblr (pretty sure). - Topic: Bill's relationship with the AXOLOTL, as he ignored the AXOLOTL's advice of not dominating Earth, and glimpses at Bill's past. - "rockabye billy - gravity falls BoB animation" by ashana on YT. - Topic: Bill's childhood, and the accidental destruction of his dimension and parents. - "Uncanny ( Bill Cipher Short AMV)" by Jøzlyn Moon on YT, @jozlyn-moon on Tumblr. - Topic: Bill regretting his deals and decisions in Theraprism. - "BRUTUS | Gravity Falls Animation" by achromaticEgoist on YT, @achromaticegoist on Tumblr. - Topic: A complicated au; details in the video's description. (I liked the video)

Billford: - "GETTING OVER YOU - Book of Bill animatic" by Scoopy Sketches on YT. - Topic: Ford and Bill's past relationship, and the toxicity, manipulation, and obsession from Bill's end. - "Sky Fall // animation // billford // gravity falls" by H3MI on YT. - Topic: Ford and Bill's past relationship and Weirdmagedon. - "A human’s touch // gravity falls" by H3MI on YT. - Topic: A quick show of Ford and Bill's relationship in the past, versus during Weirdmagedon. - "HUMAN’S TOUCH- A GRAVITY FALLS ANIMATIC" by M0CH4 CUP on YT. - Topic: A showing of Bill and Ford's toxic relationship, where Bill was using Ford for the portal, the events of Weirdmagedon, and Bill's time in Theraprism.. - "RULER OF MY HEART | Gravity Falls Animation" by ORXA on YT, @orxinus on Tumblr - Topic: The toxicity and obsession of Bill and Ford's relationship. - "THE RED MEANS 'I LOVE YOU' || Gravity Falls Bill Cipher Animatic" by R0V1 on YT. - Topic: A showing of Bill's sadistic tendencies, and his physical abuse and obsession of Ford. - "THE TORTURE TANGO | BILLFORD ANIMATIC" by vikzo on YT - Topic: Bill's torture of Ford in the Fearamid during Weirdmagedon. - "Just the two of us // Billford // Gravity falls animation" by I.V.Y on YT. - Topic: The negative progression of Bill and Ford's relationship. - "BILLFORD -every breath you take- animatic" by Gloom_arts on YT. - Topic: Bill's obsession with Ford throughout his life. - "My Goodbye - BillFord Animatic" by Gallows on YT. - Topic: Bill and Ford arguing about their past relationship during Weirdmagedon - "Stanford Pines - No Children" by clarisimart on YT. - Topic: Ford regretting his relationship with Bill. - "PORK SODA - BILLFORD [FW]" by Eldoodlez on YT. - Topic: The beginning of Bill and Ford's relationship, then Ford learning the truth. - "[GRAVITY FALLS] BILL CIPHER & STANFORD PINES – GOOD LUCK, BABE! | ANIMATIC." by Punkiinx_neon on YT, @punkiinx-neon on Tumblr. - Topic: Bill singing his apologies to Ford in Weirdmagedon, and Ford being annoyed at Bill.

Comment if you think of more big ones I should add (try to avoid song repeating tho, I already did it too much in this T^T)! I only have Youtube and Tumblr tho, so any artists on other medias, I will not add.

[levans44]

Call me crazy, hold me down

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

summary: you met ransom in college, working as harlan's intern. when he sees you again 10 years later, this time with an engagement ring on your hand, he’s hell-bent on finding out more. he's always had a way of getting under your skin, but this time, it’s different. times have changed—and so have you.

warnings: 18+ SMUT, power play, implied cheating, jealousy, history of FWB, degradation, light breath play, fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, slight age difference, canon divergence, porn w/ plot, plot twists

word count: 3.4k

“Ransom? Ransom Drysdale?”

With a velvety swoosh of his overcoat, he turns to face you, sharp blue eyes landing on yours.

Standing in the gilded glow of the country club, Ransom Drysdale wore tradition like a second skin—rich cashmere sweater, perfectly tailored chinos, and the kind of bone-deep confidence that only old money could bestow.

Yet he wore it all with a touch of recklessness, a lazy defiance that set him apart even as he fit right in.

The burgundy scarf draped around his neck—a vibrant, unruly splash against the muted palette of the room.

And, of course, the Gucci loafers. 

With the heels stamped down flat and soles scuffed to oblivion, they made it clear that, among the desperate sea of elites clinging to pedigree, Ransom was both one of them, and something entirely another.

Soft, pink lips part, exhaling your name. 

“Shit.” The incredulity in his eyes replaced just as quickly with an unmistakable hunger, raking over your frame with no remote attempt at decency or subtlety. But then again, neither had ever been his style.

“…is that really you, Sunshine?”

Sunshine. As soon as the nickname glides off his tongue, a memory flashes into your mind - the shock of cold metal against your bare skin, warm hands gripped around your hips as they hoist you up onto a library cart, rucking up the hem of your yellow sundress. 

You blink in quick succession, chasing the thought away. 

“In the flesh.” You nod, flashing him an innocent smile. 

Head cocked in disbelief, he steps in, arms outstretched for a hug. His palm skims your lower back, the other cradling a glass of whiskey.

A heavy whiff of cologne envelops you, that familiar scent of rich vanilla and cedarwood, and it’s all the confirmation you need to know that nothing has changed.

Harvard class of ’11 and '15, side-by-side members of Phi Beta Kappa honor society. 

You’d earned it through countless late nights and waitressing shifts, scrimping and saving just to make ends meet. And him? Well, a shiny new literature building bearing the Thrombey name may have tipped the scales.

For a moment, you let your nose brush against the soft fabric of his cable-knit sweater, whiter than the streaks of cocaine that marked his habits at Harvard’s exclusive club meetings.

As you start to pull back, you catch a flash of your reflection in his aviators, hanging from his collar—a spitting image of the Hamptons elite, you know you’ve never looked better. 

Knows he knows it too, evident in the way his fingers linger over your arm as he pulls back. 

“Whatcha been up to?”  

“Oh, you know, just making ends meet.”

 You sigh, twirling your fingers around the empty glass in your hand. 

“…how’s Harlan doing?”

Hand-picked by the infamous novelist for a summer internship your freshman year, it was Harlan who had introduced you to his other intern. Ransom was a senior then, neither grateful nor interested in the opportunity you had to fight tooth and nail for. 

“Well, old man hasn’t kicked it yet.” 

Ransom sighs, shoulders sagging with an undeniable air of annoyance as his hand leaves your side, stepping back to down sixty dollars worth of whiskey in one go. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, eyes wandering down to the empty martini glass by your hip. He glances back up, licking his lips and pointing a signet ring-clad finger in your direction. 

“Espresso?”

You shake your head, eyes darting down to your glass. 

“Vodka.”

He chuckles, nodding his head.

“Of course. Classic.”

You don’t dwell on his words, nor the suggestive wink he shoots your way as he heads in the direction of the bar, about to fetch you both another round.

You wince, reaching forward to stop him in his tracks.

“Oh no, Ran, you don’t have to.”

With a raised brow, his gaze drops to where your hand rests on his forearm. You pull your hand back abruptly, as if singed by his stare. 

A flicker of something possessive crosses his features, new interest lighting up his eyes. 

Jaw unclenching as he settles on that familiar smirk, though it’s a little stiffer this time. 

He raises his chin, cocking his head to the side, and the bridge of his nose catches the lighting of the overhead chandelier. 

A small twitch in his brow as he murmurs:

“Married, huh?”

You nod softly, pursing your lips as you glance down at the glistening stone on your ring finger. 

“Engaged.”

“Huh.” He murmurs, blinking.

His gaze falters for a moment before they find yours again. Eyes narrowed as he leans in, voice dropping two pegs:

“You know, between us, I always thought I’d be the one to get married first.”

You let out a soft laugh, amusement lighting up your eyes.

“Meaning you thought I’d never get married.”

He shrugs, mirroring the smile on your face.

“Can you blame me? I mean let’s face it…”

Lips inches away from yours, a devilish grin splitting his face wide open. 

“….neither of us were really the marriage type.”

And your heart skips a beat, a raw memory edging its way into your mind.

Coarse upholstery scraping against your cheek, the quiet creaks of wooden furniture ringing across the dorm common room—he’s got you bent over a worn-out couch, holding you down by the neck as he sneers in your ear. 

‘Does your little boyfriend fuck you like this?’

You blink slowly, raising your brows with a quiet breath. 

“That was over 10 years ago, Ransom. I’ve changed.”

He chuckles loudly, head cocking in a silent challenge.

“Is that right?” 

Leans in even closer to your ear, close enough to feel his warm, whiskey-soaked breath.

“Because by the way you’ve been staring at my lips, I’d disagree.” 

Pink lips curl around a set of bright, sharp teeth as he grins, the edges of his wool coat dancing around your frame.

You freeze, breath hitching in your throat as he leans down, his lips grazing your ear and leaving a searing mark—like the red-hot tip of a cigarette against your skin.

“…tell me, Sunshine, you think you can keep your hands off me all night?” 

“Who is it?”

“Hmm?” You mumble, mind half gone from the way his hands were gripping your hips, ass pressed against the cold marble of the bathroom sink as he rucks your tennis skirt around your waist.

The scent of expensive liquor and mint fill your senses as he grumbles against your pulse point, voice coarse and low. 

“That schmuck you’re marrying.”

He pulls back from the space below your jaw and in the split second your eyes meet his—a viridescent streak of emerald amidst all that smug blue. And you know.

An electric jolt rips through your stomach, equal parts thrill and disbelief, and you throw your head back, letting out an incredulous laugh.

“Drysdale, are you seriously jealous?”

He scoffs, but his hand tightens around the swell of your hips, his ring digging into the soft flesh. Suddenly yanks you to the edge of the marble counter as you gasp, grasping at his sweater-clad chest for balance. 

“You really think I’m the jealous type, Sunshine?” he murmurs, nose brushing against yours as he splays his hand over your exposed knee, warming up the skin. 

Then, with deliberate slowness, drags the blunt tips of his nails up the inside of your thigh, making you visibly shudder.

“Still a fan of that move, huh?” He grins, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

Ignoring your half-assed attempts to push him away, he continues to trail his fingers upward until they find their way to your core, thumbing the outline of your sex through the damp fabric of your panties.

“…so who is he?” He taunts, gripping you in closer, lips pressed against the corner of your mouth. 

“Ransom…” you murmur, scalding under his hungry gaze as it swallows your every reaction—a sarcastic eye roll turning into a genuine show of pleasure once he shoves the flimsy lace to the side, fingertips dipping in between your folds.  

And although you had no plans of humoring his question, Ransom’s other hand flies up to clasp over your mouth, trapping the pathetic whimpers slipping off your tongue.

He shakes his head feverishly, crooning into your ear:

“Shh, wait, wait, you know what? Lemme guess.”  

You only let out a muffled groan in response, eyes rolling back into your head at the way two of his thick fingers enter your sopping cunt, agonizingly slow. 

“Let’s see… does he have a J.D.? 5 years at daddy’s law firm, promoted to senior partner before you could say nepo baby?” 

His fingertips find that plush spot deep inside you and you gasp, his palm muffling broken syllables of his name. His hand clasps tighter against your mouth, wholly ignoring you as you claw at his wrist:

“.. or, or, Wallstreet, maybe? You living out your dreams of being a little trophy wife, sweetheart?”

Pulls out only to add a third finger, shoving his hand deeper between your legs, forcing your knees further apart. You groan at the added stretch and he only smirks, continuing to pump his fingers in and out while ignoring your desperate gaze. 

“Ok, and this might be my personal favorite….” 

A feral flash of teeth as he grins, curling his fingers upward. You can't help but arch your back, your gasp still muffled by his hand over your mouth. 

“…is he one of those self-made, go-getter types? Daddy ditched mommy without a dime so he had to scholarship his way through some shitty state college?”

Faster now, dragging his palm against your clit, hand soaked with your arousal.

“Turned his life around with dedication and work ethic. Is that what you’re telling yourself, Sunshine?”

Eyes squeezed shut, you cling onto the fabric of his coat for dear life as his fingers stroke your g-spot over and over. 

“So what’s it gonna be, sweetheart? Bachelor number 1, 2, or 3?” 

He whispers, releasing his grip from around your mouth as you gasp for air, his now-free hand dropping down to his belt buckle. 

“F-fuck you, Ransom, He’s…ah, shit—“ 

A clink of designer metal is all the warning you get before he’s burying himself in you, replacing his fingers with the head of his fat cock. The words dissolve on your tongue as he pushes inside at a glacial pace, prolonging the ache of the stretch. Drags it out just as slowly, delivering a sharp slap against your clit, before sinking back in. 

Your eyes flutter shut at the obscenity of it all, the shameless lick of his lips as he smirks at your obvious embarrassment. 

“Fuck, look at you.” He murmurs to himself as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a searing kiss, his tongue pushing past your teeth as he sets out on a relentless rhythm.

Pulls back with a wet smack to raise his free hand up to your mouth, coated thoroughly with your slick. Pushes three fingers past your lips, thrusting them down your throat, deep enough to make you gag. Your eyes roll back, clenching around his cock as you arch your back, sucking feverishly. 

“That’s it, show me how much you want it.”

And with his fingers still shoved down your throat, he smirks, tugging your head down to meet his gaze.

“Bet he doesn’t fuck you this good, huh?”

The glare you manage to give him as you gurgle around his fingers is just the edge he needs, letting out a loud groan as he snaps his hips into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing across the bathroom tiles. 

Your climax arrives with a strangled cry as your eyes squeeze shut, legs trembling as waves of ecstasy crash over you, your core spasming around his cock. 

While you struggle to catch your breath, Ransom’s thrusts become erratic, grunts growing deeper in an all-too-familiar way. He pulls out with a shudder, guiding your left hand between your thighs to wrap around his slick cock. The engagement ring glints under the dim lighting as you stroke him in quick, firm pulses. Ransom hisses, eyes zeroing in on the hand wrapped around him as he finishes with a throaty groan, streaking your inner thigh with his release.  

A soft jangle of his belt as he slides the buckle into place, while you carefully slide off the marble surface, steadying yourself. 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Sunshine. Don’t I deserve to know what kind of loser managed to tie you down?” 

You’re still breathing heavy, light-headed and buzzing, yet you manage to choke out:

“… fuck off, Drysdale, he’s a bigger man than you’ll ever be.”

He lets out a sharp laugh, hand flying up to grab your chin, smearing spit and remnants of your arousal over your lips. 

Gives you a bruising kiss, teeth and all, just because he can.

Pulls back with a wet smack, flashing you a smirk that chills you to the bone.

“Yeah? Is that why I just fucked his fiancée in a country club bathroom?”

Three days later...

“Ransom Drysdale, you’re under arrest for attempted murder of the first degree. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot—“

Ransom’s sharp chuckle interrupts the arresting officer mid-sentence. His gaze snaps over to you, standing in the corner of the living room, arms crossed and watching intently. 

He barks out your name, laced with disdain. 

“You’re a cop? You gotta be shitting me.”

You take slow, deliberate steps toward him as the officer finishes reciting his Miranda rights, yanking Ransom’s balled-up fists into a set of cuffs. Ransom’s not foolish enough to resist, but he squares his shoulders, holding his ground as you approach him. When you’re close enough, he leans in, his voice dropping to a low growl, face inches from yours.

“You slut.” He spits, all nine circles of Hell swirling in his eyes. “You think you can fuck me over like this and get away with it?” 

He huffs out a breath, nostrils flaring. Glances up past your shoulder at Benoit Blanc, standing in the archway of the foyer.

“… this isn’t over. I’ll see all your asses in court. You hear me?”

You tilt your head, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as you glance black at the arresting officer, silently signaling for one last moment. 

“You know, it’s so funny you mention that, Ransom.”

Crimson lips raised into sharp peaks as you smile, taking another step forward.

“Can I share a secret?” You lean in, voice barely a whisper.

“Guess who’s leading the prosecution on your trial?”

You watch as his scowl falters, a flicker of confusion that douses the fire in his gaze.

4 years of shitty undergrad, putting up with entitled assholes like Ransom Drysdale, all so you could graduate at the top of your class and land a full ride to Yale Law. Youngest prosecutor in the state of Massachusetts to hold the title of Attorney General, just freshly appointed last week, and with a perfect record to boot.

Just one look at your first case—a claim filed by Harlan’s home care nurse who suspected foul play, that someone had switched the labels on her med vials, nearly forcing her to administer a fatal dosage—and you knew who had dunnit. 

Pulled a few strings to get on the shortlist for the exclusive country club that Ransom frequented, and a flash of your left hand plus a couple drinks back at his place was all it took. 

Inebriated from the whiskey and drunk off his arrogance—anything for his sweet, innocent ray of sunshine, lapping up tales of his grandiose plans with wide-eyed admiration.

How he had swapped the labels, how he managed to cover his tracks. 

How a damn Brazilian nurse foiled it all with her selfless resolve, getting Harlan to the ER even after administering the correct medication. 

It was everything you needed to build a complete case against him.   

You living out your dreams of being a little trophy wife, sweetheart?

Eat shit, Drysdale.

“So what.” Ransom spits, rolling his eyes, but the mask slips just another inch further.

“You don’t think my lawyers can get me out of this? It’s attempted murder, for fucks sake.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” You step in closer, cocking your head to the side.

“You know, Ran, first-degree attempted murder is punishable for life in prison in Massachusetts.”

Even closer now, his face just inches from yours, breath hot and jagged against your lips. 

“Hire all the fucking lawyers you want — I don’t lose, asshole.”

A silence that feels like forever as his eyes dart furiously between yours, nostrils flaring.

And when he fails to find the familiar submission in your eyes, his smug, devil-may-care bravado is broken with a quick twitch in his brow—a brief flicker of realization, concealed just as quickly under a mask of rage. He lunges forward, looking just about ready to break out of his cuffs and wring both his hands around your neck. The officer yanks back on his arms in warning.

You don’t so much as flinch.

“You vile. fucking. bitch.” He hisses, gritting through his teeth.

“Hmm, takes one to know one.”

You smile, promptly stepping back as the arresting officer hauls Ransom away. 

“You slut! I’m gonna ruin your life, you hear me?” The sound of jangling metal cuffs rings out in the foyer as he’s dragged out of his grandfather's estate, past Blanc who simply sidesteps Ransom’s loud tirade.

“… get the fuck off me!”

“See you in court, Mr. Drysdale!”

You call, waving from the front door of the Thrombey mansion, watching the outline of Ransom’s designer sweater get shoved unceremoniously into the back of a police vehicle. 

Through the tinted windows of the back seat, you catch the glimpse of a man stripped of his mask, a ghost from your past, face twisted in fury and defeat.

“Miss, didn’t nobody tell you that gloatin’s in poor taste?”

A low, southern drawl croons from beside you. 

You flash a smile at Benoit Blanc, who’s watching the police car pull out of the driveway behind a lit cigar, an equally satisfied expression on his face.

“Oh, I think a little gloating may be warranted.”

"Ya know... the way you’ve pieced this all together is mighty impressive. You sure I can't convince you of a career as a private investigator?”

You laugh, watching the police car disappear through the dense woods.

“That’s kind of you, detective, but the courtroom’s where I belong.”

You purse your lips, thumb absentmindedly rubbing against the band on your ring finger. 

“Plus, I… may have cheated my way in a little with this one.”

Blanc shrugs, smiling around his cigar.

“I figured as much, seeing as how you and Mr. Drysdale were on a first-name basis.”

You let out a small sigh, turning to face Blanc as you extend a hand. 

“It’s been a pleasure, detective. Couldn’t have done it without your insight.”

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine.”

Cigar hanging from his lips, Blanc shakes your hand with a firm grip, before the shiny stone on your finger catches his eye, glinting in the afternoon sun. 

“…that’s a nice ring you got there, ma’am. Must be a lucky fella.”

He flashes you a wink, and you have to fight the urge to smile, realizing why this strange character of a man was heralded as the world’s greatest P.I. 

After Blanc leaves you with a tip of his hat, you take a few steps out into the sprawling yard of the Thrombey mansion, turning around to take in the full view of the estate. 

‘Playing life like a game without consequence…’ 

Harlan’s words echo in your head—one of the many nights you’d stayed over late, helping him finalize manuscripts while Ransom was out partying. 

‘….untill you can't tell the difference between a stage prop and a real knife.’

Lucky you that Ransom couldn’t tell 10-dollar cubic zirconia from a real diamond, either. 

After taking one final glance at the estate, you start your descent down the hill of the Thrombey estate, twisting the ring off your finger and tossing it into the dense shrubbery where it vanishes from view.

“So long, Drysdale.”

A/N: so uhm... this might be the filthiest thing I've ever written? hope you enjoyed the little reveals in the story, had to stay true to the og genre. title credit to fiona apple

[thelifeofchuckmovie]

When it comes to ending the world, Stephen King is a repeat offender. He has brought life as we know it to a brutal conclusion several times over the decades, usually highlighting the cruelty and desperation that erupts among the last to go. But his 2020 story “The Life of Chuck” uses doomsday to evoke some unlikely sentiments: Wistfulness. Gratitude. Even joy.

The idea of creating an apocalyptic version of It’s a Wonderful Life is what led filmmaker Mike Flanagan to call dibs on the rights to the novella more than four years ago. The breakdown of society, extinction-level natural disasters, and the disintegration of reality itself is explored through the lens of one relatively meek and mild accountant, played by Tom Hiddleston, whose memories and choices are mysteriously connected to these tribulations. Retirement posters congratulating him on “39 great years” pop up everywhere. But who is this guy? What job does he do (or did he used to do)? And why does it matter so much to the fate of the world? This apparent nobody named Chuck Krantz has lived larger than anyone thought possible.

Having explored King country before in 2017’s Gerald’s Game and 2019’s The Shining sequel Doctor Sleep, Flanagan got involved after reading an early copy of “Chuck” before it was published in the collection If It Bleeds. The Haunting of Hill House and Fall of the House of Usher creator produced the film independently, believing it might be too offbeat for risk-averse studios to greenlight. He even secured a waiver from the striking Hollywood guilds last year to move forward with the shoot while the rest of the industry was stuck in the work stoppage. Now he and Hiddleston are ready to reveal the finished version of The Life of Chuck as it heads to the upcoming Toronto International Film Festival, where it will screen for potential distributors.

Among the skeptics about this adaptation was King himself, according to Flanagan. “His initial responses to me were a little like, ‘Oh, okay. Yeah. If you think that’s a movie…,’” he says. “He did say several times that he thought it would be a challenge to get it supported through traditional means.”

King has now seen the finished movie and no longer has doubts. He described it to Vanity Fair as “a happiness machine.”

“Well, he’s written something very tender and very wise,” Hiddleston says. “I think there is a great wisdom in the soul of the story, which is that it takes courage to hold on to what is good in a world that feels like it’s falling apart.”

Flanagan hopes others see it that way too, although the overpowering dread that begins the story may be more immediately relatable. “I’ve heard it said that every generation feels a little like the world is ending at some point, [but] I still feel like it’s different for us,” the 46-year-old filmmaker says with a mordant laugh. “Institutions we took for granted as propping up our society are failing left and right. Our politics have degraded spectacularly. The sense that it’s breaking down, that the world is moving on, has been increasingly palpable. When I talk to my parents or members of older generations who have been through their own turbulent times, the thing that strikes me is that they’re like, ‘Oh yeah, this is really bad.’”

But…it’s not entirely bad. And that’s the underlying message of The Life of Chuck as its various mysteries play out. “There’s no sense of terror in the way that King drew it,” Flanagan says. “Even as the world feels as though it’s ending, people become introspective, they reach into their past for loves that have left their lives for one reason or another. Strangers engage in open and fearless communication.”

It’s an indie-film variation on the big-budget cataclysm story. “A disaster movie has people meeting the end while running from tidal waves, and this story has people sitting quietly holding hands looking at the stars,” Flanagan says.

The key to it all is Chuck himself, although he doesn’t turn up onscreen until the second segment of the three-act story, which plays out in reverse chronological order.

The beginning is actually the end, as the whole world circles the drain. Caught in this spiral is Chiwetel Ejiofor (12 Years a Slave), a school teacher trying to apply logic to the planet’s troubles; Karen Gillan (Guardians of the Galaxy) is his ex, a hospital worker determined to save everyone she can; Matthew Lillard (Scream) is a construction worker neighbor who finds zen amid the chaos; and Carl Lumbly (Alias), plays a funeral director who has dedicated his life to easing people through death.

The end of the movie is actually the beginning, showing young Chuck (Benjamin Pajak) when he was a boy being raised by his grandparents (Mia Sara of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Mark Hamill). The insight of these two—coupled with the otherworldly revelations he finds in an eerie room tucked into the peak of their Victorian home—help him learn to seek out bright spots when life is marred by sorrow and darkness.

In elementary school, young Chuck discovers some important things about himself thanks to guidance from a brusque dance instructor (Samantha Sloyan), and a kindhearted English teacher, played by Kate Siegel, who gives the boy (not to mention the audience) some important information that serves as a code breaker for the story's more cosmic puzzles.

As for the middle of the film: It’s a dance number. That’s when Hiddleston steps in.

Compounding the peculiarity of The Life of Chuck is the question: Why is this song and dance sequence so important? The answer is for the movie to reveal, but it matters a lot. “The life of every human being is a constellation, as expressed in this film,” Hiddleston says. “There are certain moments which will burn most brightly as individual stars. Sometimes it feels like the world is going to hell in a handcart, and it’s full of pain and suffering, and it is—but there are moments of deep joy and deep connection.”

Hiddleston shows the audience this single moment in the life of a buttoned-up fellow who somehow controls the destiny of the world. It’s not necessarily the most important day in his life, but it’s a memorable one involving a street drummer (Taylor Gordon), a lovely stranger (played by Annalise Basso), and a fateful decision to cast aside caution and cut a rug. “It’s a reminder to do whatever it is that expresses whatever gives you that feeling of being alive,” Hiddleston says. “Whether it’s music or dancing or math or writing or creativity—do it. Do it now. Those moments are what you’ll remember.”

Flanagan considered casting a relative unknown as Chuck to “give the audience the experience of ‘Who the hell is this person?’” as the peculiar retirement signs begin to appear in the midst of the apocalypse. But he felt the promise of the Loki star would build more curiosity as the world falls apart. “You grow an enormous amount of anticipation to finally spend time with an actor like Tom, who can be a literal god in one story, and then an everyman in another,” Flanagan says.

A TikTok video of Hiddleston getting his groove on sealed the deal. “He had a completely unfiltered joy on his face,” Flanagan says. “He was a good dancer, but that wasn’t what struck me. I wasn’t amazed by the technique so much as the degree of happiness that was radiating off of him. The look on his face made me smile the same way I smiled reading that particular portion of the book.”

The resulting scene was created in a month-long collaboration between Flanagan, Hiddleston, Basso, choreographer Mandy Moore (So You Think You Can Dance, and La La Land), and Gordon, a real-life percussionist who performs under the name the Pocket Queen. “Taylor was there for all of the dance choreography. She wrote that piece of music for that performance. They built it together,” Flanagan says.

Hiddleston rattles off the lists of influences: “I had to learn in six weeks the full regime of any dance training. We did jazz, swing, salsa, cha-cha, the Charleston, bossa nova, polka, quickstep, samba. We were trying to tip our hat to anything that might have influenced Chuck. It might’ve had a bit of Gene Kelly or Fred and Ginger. Certainly moonwalking—Stephen King is very specific about the moonwalk.”

Precision was not the goal, exuberance was what they sought. “We need to always bear in mind that this man is an accountant. We needed this to be an earnest, escalating explosion of joy, and a remembrance of who he was,” Flanagan says. “It’s a chance to step back into the skin of his younger self, not caring that his feet are going to kill him the next day, not caring that he’s going to wake up with a horribly stiff neck.”

A surprising thing happened while shooting the scene over the course of several sweltering afternoons in the deep South. “I burned holes in my shoes,” Hiddleston says. “I was dancing out on the asphalt in Alabama, and by the time we’d finished, you could see my socks through the soles.”

The sequence begins awkwardly: Chuck is self-conscious as he first hears the busker’s rhythm while walking back from a banking conference. That feeling quickly gets shaken off. “Tom was very committed,” Flanagan says. “He was like, ‘If I look silly, that’s fine. As long as I look happy.’”

Flanagan remembers being in a bad place when he first discovered “The Life of Chuck.” Then again, everybody was.

His copy of the manuscript arrived in March 2020. “That was just as the world shut down for COVID,” he says. “We had been a week away from starting principal photography on Midnight Mass in Vancouver and had fled across the border before it closed to make it back to the States. We were hunkered down in our homes and had no idea if this was going to last for two weeks or if this was going to last forever.”

With everything halted as the lockdown set in, Flanagan had plenty of time to do nothing but read. The new King book seemed like the perfect escape. Except…

“The first third of ‘The Life of Chuck’ just rattled me,” he recalls. “There’s no way he wrote this before the world ground to this bizarre halt—but he did. And the feeling of anxiety, and uncertainty, and that everything was falling apart came roaring out at me. I wasn’t sure I could finish it. It just felt too close to the anxiety I was feeling.” But he kept turning the pages. “By the end of it, I was in tears, and incredibly uplifted, and convinced I’d read maybe the best thing that he’d written in a decade. I just was floored by the thing,” Flanagan says. “So I fired off an email to him right away saying how much I loved the story, how incredible I thought it was, how meaningful, and important, and how it had really tattooed itself on my heart and said, ‘It’s the movie I want to make so that it’ll exist in the world for my kids.’”

King’s response: Not so fast. Flanagan and his producing partner, Trevor Macy, had at that point secured the rights to King’s fantasy saga The Dark Tower through their company, Intrepid Pictures. The eight-book series is threaded throughout King’s other works, and adapting it was a massive undertaking that Flanagan is still working to make happen. Other filmmakers had either abandoned the project, were canceled midway through, or bombed miserably. The author didn’t want him to be distracted. “He doesn’t like to give the same filmmaker more than one thing, because it typically means one thing is not advancing at all,” Flanagan says. “He said, ‘Well, let’s focus on The Tower and I’ll try to keep this one available for you for later.’”

The quest to The Dark Tower remains a priority for Flanagan, but a number of disruptions to that epic undertaking led him to reapproach King last year about Chuck. Intrepid’s deal with Netflix, where they had created Hill House, The Haunting of Bly Manor, and other shows, had come to a close, and Intrepid signed a new development agreement with Amazon. That meant starting over on The Dark Tower. Meanwhile, the threat of a double-barreled strike by writers and actors was on the horizon, stalling nearly every major new project. The industry plunged into another production-halting lockdown, this time over contract impasses rather than a virus.

Since The Dark Tower was suddenly further off on the horizon, Flanagan saw a chance to make The Life of Chuck happen in the short term. “It’s so rare that I get to approach any project that just has not an ounce of cynicism to it. I just really believed in this thing,” he says. “But it was also clear that we would have an incredibly uphill battle bringing the story to any major studio. They would try to make it as familiar as possible, instead of leaning into what makes it so different.”

King gave Flanagan his blessing to proceed. “I was off like a shot,” the filmmaker says. “I think I turned in the draft to him before he got around to sending the formal agreement.”

For everyone involved, The Life of Chuck became a bright spot in an otherwise dismal time, which matches the theme of the film. “There is a profound optimism in this story,” Hiddleston says. “As the world is spinning off its axis, there are moments of magic.”

[wordsarelife]

⛧༺ NO BODY, NO CRIME ༻⛧

EPISODE 03: i ain't letting up, until the day i die

pairing: theo nott x potter!reader

summary: you find out more about the nocturne society, chemistry between theo and you grows, while other problems arise.

warnings: extremely big trigger warning for the whole series, in this chapter: mentions of murder, illegal activities

note: welcome back to the third episode of nbnc! i’m so excited to have you all back and to hear your opinions on this weeks episode!!

you reacted first. before the door flew open, you had reached for theo’s arm, dragging him into the wardrobe behind you. you were standing pressed close to each other and listened to the voices coming into the office. 

you sighed internally when dumbledore’s calm voice reached your ears. he was talking to snape, who muttered uninterested replies, whenever dumbledore asked him something. 

you and theo stayed in the wardrobe. you were glad that it wasn’t the killer, who had come back to get rid of whatever proof he had left behind, but that also meant that the teachers were in the posession of your best clue now. 

at least you had been able to have a look at it before snape and dumbledore had entered the office. they were quicker than theo and you, just overlooking everything before they left, locking the door behind them.

theo and you started breathing normal again. 

“that was close” theo muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. you nodded, not able to form coherent sentences. 

“they took the wine” you finally said. 

“at least we saw it before they did” theo nudged your arm, trying to lighten the mood. 

“you're right”, you sighed, before you smiled again “we know the murder weapon now, that's pretty good” 

“the killer has to have some knowledge of poison to have pulled this off” theo concluded. “i mean getting a teacher to drink that… impressive” 

“yeah, right” you nodded, deep in thought. 

“now let's leave before someone else gets here or they decide to come back” theo nodded to the door. you followed behind him, but your eyes caught on an envelope peeking out from beneath the stack of papers on professor burbage's desk. you were about to look away, but something familiar tugged at your attention.

it was the way the "t" was written on the envelope, sharp yet elegant, almost calligraphic—the same way someone you knew always wrote their name. the memory flashed in your mind.

“let me,” theo had said, gently taking the parchment from your hands. “you wrote everything else, your hand must be sore.”

you watched as he carefully wrote both your name and his, the sweeping lines of the "t" so distinct it looked like art.

“if i had known your handwriting was this pretty, i’d have made you write the entire project,” you’d joked, grinning.

now, the realization hit you like a cold gust of wind. you knew this handwriting. you knew exactly who had written that letter. you used the time you had while theo already up to the door, testing the handle, and slipped the envelope into your pocket. you would ask him about that later. maybe it was nothing important.

“can you open it again?” theo smirked, turning around at you, while you quickly distanced yourself from the desk.

he quirked a brow at your weird behaviour, but didn’t question it as he watched you bend down in front of the keyhole and pick the lock. 

you walked down the stairs, through the classroom and slipped silently into the dark corridor, heart pounding but steps measured. theo followed closely behind, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching how you moved quickly, quietly—like you’d done this a thousand times.

when you reached the end of the hall, far enough away from the office, so no one would suspect anything, theo exhaled softly, clearly impressed. “you’re quiet for someone who’s always in the thick of things” he muttered, a smirk playing on his lips. “like a little sparrow, flitting through danger.”

you raised an eyebrow. “sparrow?”

he shrugged. “small, quick, and always finding a way out. suits you”

you smiled at the nickname before you nodded. “yeah, i guess” 

“you look worried” theo searched your face for answers, he was used to you laughing at the things he said. 

“it’s just— that was really close” you said softly, before you stopped in the middle of the corridor, a heavy sigh escaping your lips.

theo waited for you to continue, but you didn’t. “it’s something else, isn’t it?” he asked softly, the worry on his face almost matching yours. 

“i just don’t know why someone would do that to her” you finally admitted. “this whole day i have been focusing on finding out what happened. so much even, that i forgot that an actual person died, someone i knew and liked. professor burbage was a great woman, she didn’t deserve what happened to her”

“you don’t know that”

“what? theo, she was a human being—“

“all i’m saying is that you didn’t really know her” he interrupted. “you knew the person she wanted you to see and after all we found out today, she wasn’t who you thought. i mean if she was really involved in that club..” he let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, not bothering to finish it as you stared at him in disbelief. 

“do you really think that?” you whispered. tears spilt from your eyes at the realization that you were the only one of you two, who was actually sad about professor burbage’s death.

“no, i don’t know what i think, okay?” he muttered, feeling bad as he saw the effect his words had on you. he took your hand in his. “don’t worry, we will find out who did it” he promised, brushing a hand through your hair.

as you looked up at him, his blue eyes glistening back, you understood how much his promise meant to you. you trusted him, more than you probably should. but spending time with theo felt like spending time with someone you had known for all your life. maybe that was because he felt like a mirror of your soul. 

both of you were the black sheep of your respective friend groups, never quite fitting in, yet never feeling different enough to leave. you both wore the same mask: tough, independent, and unbothered. but underneath, there was something raw, something lonely.

there were moments—like now—where you felt your walls crumble around him, just as his seemed to crack before your eyes. you recognized the same unspoken sadness and shared isolation that neither of you ever voiced aloud. it was this unspoken bond, that drew you to him more than anything else.

“okay” you nodded, believing him. 

theo smiled at that. “now come on, let us find mattheo”

the way through the castle took way shorter than you remembered, maybe because theo didn’t let go of your hand for the whole way. the temperature dropped quickly when you walked down the stairs to the dungeon. 

mattheo was still leaning against the wall of the corridor, green light illuminating his face. his lips were swollen, puffy and red and he looked like he had just smoked something, head hanging back against the wall.

“riddle” you called, waking him from his slumber. 

“potter” mattheo greeted, eyes snapping open quickly as he heard your soft voice speak his name. he was no fan of your brother, but he had to admit that there had always been something about you that intrigued him. “made it official, huh?” his brow lifted as his gaze dropped to your hand, still intertwined with theo’s. you both quickly let go, putting a careful distance between yourselves.

“we still need to ask you something” theo finally announced after half a minute of silence had passed. 

“i remember that, yeah” mattheo nodded. “i will help you with whatever, as soon as i get a kiss from potter over here” he puckered his lips. 

your eyes narrowed in disbelief as you uncrossed your arms, stepping forward. you opened your mouth, but before you could say something, theo had stepped in front of you protectively. 

“not happening” he muttered, voice cold and sharper than you had ever heard him talk before. “and if you don’t stop playing, i will make sure you will never even look in her direction again” 

mattheo huffed. “who’s friend are you, nott?” he asked, rolling his eyes, before he sighed. “fine, i’ll help, but you owe me one” he pointed a finger in theo’s direction. “empty room whenever i need it”

“sure” theo shrugged, relaxing and making room for you to speak to mattheo. 

“do you know anything about the nocturne society?”

mattheo’s eyes grew dark. “how do you know about that?” he asked, stepping forward threatingly. 

theo interjected, before mattheo could come close to you. “professor burbage had that in her hand” he took out the rune and held it in mattheo’s direction, who studied it in deep concentration. 

“i have never seen this before” he finally said. even you could tell that was a lie. 

“please, mattheo” you pleaded and he looked surprised at the mention of his first name. “we just want to find out what happened. nothing will happen to the society, but someone who is a member might be the killer”

mattheo’s gaze grew soft as his eyes fell on you. you had never thought that mattheo riddle of all people would look at you like that. “there’s a party. every wednesday night. that’s where you’ll find your answers”

“a party?” theo drawled unbelieving. “is this a trap, mattheo?”

“no” mattheo sighed and his voice sounded honest. “the society has been dangerous before it got forbidden, but it’s nothing like that now. it’s just for fun. go to the party and see for yourself. the society has nothing to do with what happened.” he paused, before he added. “but a few members have mentioned burbage and an old dark magical object they were trying to steal from her, maybe that’s what you’re searching for”

“not dangerous, huh?” theo huffed in disbelief and you could hear the anger bubbling in his voice. “we talked about this, mattheo” he muttered, trying to be quiet enough for you to not understand, but failing in the process. “there’s already enough trouble surrounding your name, don’t make it worse”

“it’s not like that, theodore” mattheo replied sharply. 

“okay” you interrupted the staring between the boys. “when does this party begin? and where is it?” 

mattheo threw one last look at theo, before he took out a piece of paper and pushed it into you hand, not missing the way theo grabbed your arm in protection. “i won’t cut her hand off, nott” mattheo muttered with a roll of his eyes. “quit the ridiculous behaviour”

“sounds rich coming from you” theo replied, but still dropped his hand. 

“just open it at nine o’clock tomorrow night and it will guide you” mattheo told you. “make sure to wear the right attire. it’s a masquerade ball”  

“thank you” you smiled, touching mattheo’s arm in a friendly manner, before you turned to leave. you walked up a few steps, until you stopped next to a portrait, waiting for theo, who was still talking to mattheo. you felt like it was the right thing to give them some room. 

theo waited until you were out of earshot, his expression hardening as he turned back to mattheo. “if this is a trap and anything happens to her, riddle, i swear—”

“relax, nott” mattheo interrupted, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “i’m not your enemy here. you should be more worried about who’s actually behind all of this. and trust me, it’s not me.”

theo’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing in warning. “it better not be. she’s trusting you, and if you screw this up—”

tattheo raised his hands defensively, chuckling darkly. “i get it. you’re protective. but maybe you should tell her the truth, loverboy, instead of trying to scare me off. we both know that you weren’t at the astronomy tower out of pure coincidence”

theo’s fists clenched, but he said nothing. instead, he turned away abruptly, leaving mattheo standing there, still smirking as if he had won something.

as theo caught up with you, he saw you waiting a few steps ahead, your eyes scanning the corridor, lost in thought. he walked beside you, shoulders tense. “you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now that mattheo was out of sight.

you nodded, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “yeah. i just… didn’t expect him to be that helpful. i thought it’d take more convincing.”

“me too” theo muttered, glancing back briefly before looking at you again. “we just have to be careful. that party... i don’t trust any of them.”

“we have each other” you smiled softly, “so i’m not scared”

theo grinned at you, a soft blush flushing his features. “me neither” he took a look at the clock that adorned his waiste, before he sighed. “i better walk you back to your common room, it’s getting late and we need to be well rested if we want to catch a killer”

“high standards” you laughed, before you nodded. “sounds like a plan”

it was silent as you walked through the corridors in the direction of the gryffindor common room, before theo finally broke the silence. 

“can i ask you something?” he said softly. “not about all of this, but.. something about you?” 

“of course” you nodded, intrigued to hear what he wanted to know. 

“how do you do all that? stick up to what people expect from you? fill the role of the perfect sister of the chosen one? it sounds stressful”

“it is” you shrugged. “but it’s always been like that, so i got used to it i guess. i’ve been harry’s sister all my life and even before hogwarts people had expectations of how i had to be. the strategy is to just be what they want you to be. it saves you a lot of headaches”

“but why? why don’t they just get used to who you really are?”

“well, it’s always been easier that way” you shrugged. “and i guess no one was ever interested in that to be honest”

theo turned his head to look at you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “i am” he said, his voice low but filled with so much sincerity that it almost overwhelmed you.

both of you stopped walking, turning to look at each other instead.

theo’s blue eyes seemed to pierce right through you, their sincerity hitting you harder than you’d expected. there was no teasing in his tone, just theo—raw and honest.

your breath hitched in your throat, your heart doing backflips at his words. you couldn’t help but smile, warmth spreading through your chest like wildfire. for a moment, it was as if the world had gone quiet, leaving just the two of you standing there, connected by something unspoken but powerful.

“theo...” you whispered, not knowing what else to say, but somehow feeling like he already understood.

the tension between you crackled in the air, electric and intoxicating. you could feel the heat radiating from theo as he drew closer, his eyes flickering between yours. the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. you could see it in his gaze—a mix of longing and uncertainty—and you knew you were close to something beautiful.

just as you leaned in, your breath mingling with his, the faint sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor, shattering the intimacy of the moment.

“do you hear that?” theo murmured, suddenly alert, his brow furrowing as he glanced down the hallway.

you quickly pulled back, heart racing from both the near kiss and the unexpected interruption. the footsteps grew louder, the rhythmic sound drawing closer with every passing second. 

your heart beat even faster, as you felt uneasy about someone coming. it was close to nighttime. and usually, no one who had good intentions would be running around then. your eyes fell onto the broom closet behind theo’s back. “there, go!” you quickly muttered, pushing him to the door. 

you weren’t sure who was approaching or if they even posed a threat to you, but you were rather safe than sorry. 

you closed the door, just as the footsteps grew so loud that the person had to be close. 

the closet was small, too small even for one person. the cramped space was dark and filled with the faint scent of wood polish and broom bristles. your chest pressed against theo’s as your back touched the wood of the door. you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his breathing steady despite the tension in the air.

“this is the second time in a day we’re hiding in a closet” theo said lowly, his voice nothing more than a rasp. your head felt empty as a goosebumps wandered over your body and you forgot all about the possible danger in front of the door. 

your breath hitched as you took in the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips, a silent question hanging in the air. the tension built between you, electric and undeniable, drawing you closer together. it was as if an invisible force compelled you to close the gap, and you leaned in instinctively, the weight of everything else falling away.

you nodded softly and in one fluid motion, theo tilted his head slightly, and you felt the soft brush of his lips against yours. it was hesitant at first, a gentle exploration that quickly deepened as you both melted into the kiss. his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, while yours curled around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

you titled your head, allowing him to come closer, as you softly gripped his hair. you felt the beat of his heart as the kiss deepened, each movement becoming more urgent, as if your bodies were trying to communicate what your hearts had been saying all along. the broom closet felt like it was shrinking around you, yet somehow, the confined space made the moment even more intimate.

his lips were soft and warm, igniting a fire within you that spread through your veins. the kiss was intoxicating, like tasting something you had longed for without even realizing it. the world outside faded completely; the footsteps, the threat of discovery, all vanished in the heat of this shared moment.

you broke the kiss softly, leaning your forehead against his chest, not ready to face his gaze. 

“look at me, sparrow” theo whispered. you could hear from his voice that he was just as breathless as you.

you looked up to meet his eyes, your cheeks crimson red as you stared at his swollen lips and remembered that you were the reason for it. 

“what was that?” he asked, his usual smirk threading through his words, but his gaze was serious. “did you mean it?”

your heart raced as you processed the question. “mean what?” you replied, though you knew exactly what he was getting at.

his fingers brushed your cheek, lingering just above your skin. “this,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “us. whatever this is. did you really want to kiss me, or was it just the moment?”

“i wanted to” you admitted, feeling a rush of shame. “i didn’t know it would feel like that, though. i thought i’d be more scared”

theo chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting. “you never have to be scared of me.” he said “probably everyone in this school would hate us being together, but there’s something about you, something that makes me want to take that risk” his sincerity wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“really?” you asked, searching his eyes for the truth. “you want to take a risk for me?”

“yeah” he replied, his thumb grazing your jawline as he held your gaze. “you’re more than what you show everyone else. i see that. and i want to know everything about you.”

the way he looked at you made your heart flutter. “okay” you breathed. 

the rest of the way to the gryffindor common room felt like walking on clouds. theo kept holding your hand, this time intentionally, after you had walked out of the closet, making sure that whoever had been in the corridor was gone. 

you said goodnight to theo, before you said the password and watched the portrait open. you made theo promise to be careful on the way back, before you stepped inside. 

it took about thirty seconds for you to remember the letter you had taken from professor burbage’s office. the one with theo’s handwriting, you had planned to ask him about.

he was already gone when you opened the door to the corridor, so you decided to speak to him tomorrow. you got ready for bed, changing into your pyjama and brushing your teeth.

hermione was already fast asleep when you slipped into your bed. you tried shutting your eyes, but there was no way you were going to sleep anytime soon. the events of the day kept your mind occupied as you stared into the air. 

you lightly illuminated the room with the light of your wand, before you grabbed theo’s letter from your bedside table. 

you longed to be close to him again and maybe, if you just read a few lines of the letter, you could finally go to sleep without thinking over it again and again. you opened the envelope, that has definitely been read before, your eyes flying over the written words on the paper. 

the smile on your face died fast, as you sat up, to grip the letter with both hands. 

‘your presence here is unwelcome, and you are playing a foolish game that will have consequences.’ you read. you could almost hear how theo spit these words at your beloved teacher— the one he didn’t even feel sorry for getting murdered. ‘this evening, i expect you to be at the entrance of the astronomy tower.’

your breath hitched. the astronomy tower. burbage had died right beneath it. 

you couldn’t believe what you were reading. maybe it was just a coincidence, a bad, bad coincidence. surely, you couldn’t have been mistaken about him. theo, with his quiet demeanor and his moments of kindness, couldn’t have been capable of something like this. he couldn’t.

you clung to that hope, until your eyes fell on the last line.

‘make no mistake, burbage. make the right choice before it’s too late. consider this your final warning’

your heart dropped. you had been so wrong about him. the words stared back at you, cold and unforgiving. the weight of their meaning crushed the air from your lungs.

maybe, you thought, theo had killed professor burbage.

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[blackbat05]

Real or Not Real?

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Plot: You need a plus one for a wedding. Who better than your boss and perhaps the most hated person on your list.

Genre: PG-13, Enemies to Lovers (I would like to think so😬)

A/N: I’m on a roll. Also, I always wanted to do this trope! This is longer than usual. Reblogs and feedback appreciated!💜

“Shit!” Your phone bounces off the bed, landing inches away from another expensive repair.

“What’s wrong?” Jessica Drew looks up from the self help book that she was currently engaged in.

“An old classmate. I totally forgot about the wedding!” You groan, feet becoming more fidgety by the second.

“Right… and would you care to explain why you look like one of Norman Osborn’s pumpkins?” Your best friend looks at you cautiously, as if like you were a volcano waiting to explode any second.

“Well, she used to be great with everyone in school. Can’t say the same about myself.” You winced internally at the memories about your youth. “You know how it is. Everyone is either rich, successful or in love once they leave school.”

“Or maybe all three.” Jessica adds helpfully much to your chagrin.

“Thanks, Jess.” You refrain from rolling your eyes. “Anyways, the chat group got reignited and some genius started asking about ‘the girl who everyone always see but doesn’t really know’ and before I know it, everyone starts pestering me about how I’m doing!” You throw your hands dramatically in the air and Jessica can’t help but to look amused. “So?”

“So, I kinda told them that I have a reallyhotboyfriend.” The last few words are mashed into one big mess but still clear enough for Jessica to pick up. “You what now?”

Smelling the judgement from a mile away, you hang your head in defeat. “I know! I’m an idiot! I couldn’t help myself okay? This is what happens when you attend a private all girls’ school. You stand out for being weird and suddenly The Plastics start making your entire school life hell.”

“The Plastics?”

“It’s a movie reference.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Jessica chuckles. “So what now girl? How’s damage control going?”

“Terrible.” You splat face first into the pillow. “I was thinking of getting help from the guys but…” You hold up four fingers, ticking them off one by one. “Pavitr can’t pretend, Hobie’ too unpredictable, Miles is too young and Peter’s married with a child - a fact I can’t ignore even if this is fake.”

Jessica looks at your closed fingers, tapping her chin thoughtfully. If being friends with her taught you anything, this wasn’t a good sign.

“There is one more option. I think he would fit your description of a really hot boyfriend.” She deliberately gives you a meaningful look that makes you leap off the bed, throwing her an accusing look.

“Actually, I think I’m going to ask Gwen. Do you know where I can find her?”

“Long gone. She went to visit Captain Stacey.” Jessica quips. “Come on. He’s a good option. Besides, this is a great opportunity to know him better!”

“I rather tangle with the loch-ness monster instead.” You mumble, thinking about your very first encounter with the man of the hour - Miguel O’Hara. The two of you were a good representation of day and night.

While you were bright and upbeat, the leader of the Spider Society probably didn’t have the word ‘joy’ in his dictionary. As you attempted to introduce yourself to him at your first meeting, he had simply brushed you aside.

“Miguel isn’t that bad once you get to know him.”

“Very funny, Jess. You should be comedian of the year. Did you forget how he yelled at me when I pushed him out of the way from Kingpin’s gangbangers?”

Jessica opens her mouth slightly, only to shut it soon after. You frown, turning your back to see whatever she was staring at behind you. How you wished you hadn’t. Oh, if only the ground could swallow you whole as Miguel himself stands at the door, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“What- how long have you been here for?” You struggle to form that one sentence. “Jess…” You start accusingly.

Jessica shrugs, taking Miguel’s presence as a sign to leave. “I’ll leave you two to it!” She gives you a wink that results in your mouth hanging agape. Miguel closes the door and you quickly attempt to compose yourself.

“I’ll do it.”

“Do what?”

Miguel raises a brow. “Be your date.” He says it all too nonchalantly, as if choosing at empanada at the supermarket. You blink, pinching yourself out of his sight. The situation was very real. He stands in front of you, waiting.

“What do you want from me?” You blurt out. “You want something in return.” You clarify once more, trying to make sense of things.

The end of Miguel’s lips turn upwards slightly, and you’re worried that the sudden acceleration of your heart would unable to support your body to stand upright.

“I just want to apologize for my behavior and I happened to overhear your conversation.” He responds and you make a mental note to never trust Jessica again for not warning you about his presence.

“Am I in some kind of alternate dimension?” You laugh, trying to defuse the awkwardness. Miguel remains impassive, eyes staring intently into yours.

“What’s it going to be? You can take me or you can look like a liar to everyone. It’s your choice.”

You hate to say it, but he’s right.

***

“You came!” Your old friend comes barreling into you, giving you a big hug.

“Lils! You look amazing!” You gushed, returning the hug. “Congratulations. What a beautiful place.” You refer to the beachside wedding that she insisted on.

“Thanks! Jeju Island was always on my bucket list. I’m so glad I get to share this memory with all of you!” She gushes, turning to your plus one. “I mean, I finally get to see who has stolen your heart!” She extends a hand. “And who may you be?”

“Miguel O’Hara.” He extends his own hand for a shake. “Congratulations.”

“No need for the formalities!” Lilly smiles brightly. “What I do want to know is how you two got together! You can be away from her for a little can’t you?”

Before the two of you can even say anything, you find yourself being pulled away by Lilly while the groom effortlessly picks up the conversation with Miguel. She brings you aside, within the sight of the two men.

“Tell me everything!” She pounces on you like a tiger, demanding to know your first encounter. You give what you hope was a easy smile. “We’re… colleagues.” You don’t think exposing both your superhero personas would do well, not especially when you got here by inter dimensional traveling.

Your friend seems to be satisfied by this as she squeals. She hits your shoulder a little too aggressively, wanting more. You sigh, hoping that Miguel wasn’t being interrogated this intensively on his end.

“We just had the same interests and kind of clicked.” You prayed that the questioning would stop soon. “Everything was just a blur after.”

Lilly nods, throughly invested in your fake love story. She’s about to ask another question when a sharp voice pierced through the air, causing you to be rooted to the ground. You really wanted to run away at that moment.

“What is this that I’m hearing? You’re actually seeing someone?” The clack of heels come to a stop and you find yourself facing your tormentor.

“It’s nice to see you too, Becca.” You grit through your teeth. The woman remains oblivious to your discomfort as she addresses the two others trailing behind her. “I wonder who’s the lucky man nice enough to pick her up!”

“That’s enough, I invite you to my wedding out of our friendship but this doesn’t give you the right to insult her.” Lilly shoots back, keeping her eyes trained on your curled fists.

“It’s alright, Lils.” You try to remain calm. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you everything later.” You take the lead to escort her back when Becca’s comment brings you to a halt.

“I bet he isn’t even real!”

Although she was right, you couldn’t help but to turn around, wanting to give Becca and her posse a piece of your mind. Something that you should have done a very long time ago.

“Oh, I’m very real alright.”

You see Miguel walking up towards the trio. Was it just you or did Miguel look… angry?

He composes himself, giving a charming grin to the trio who looked like they were going to start falling at his feet any moment.

“Miguel O’Hara. She has told me a lot about you three.”

“Oh, she has?” Becca twirls the edge of her skirt nervously and you don’t know where Miguel is going with this.

“Sure. She’s told me all about how you three dimwits made her entire life hell. Honestly? I don’t even know how that happened when she’s a hundred times classier with more substance than you plastics claim to have.” Miguel catches your eye and gives a quick wink.

“Excuse me?” Becca stutters. “Oh, I get it. She must have paid you to say that!”

Miguel walks over and gently loops an arm over your shoulders. By now, the conversation seemed to have attracted every guest who were lining up at the buffet table.

“Nope. But you know what she is? She is the most courageous and selfless person who wouldn’t hesitate to help others. I don’t think you three would even come close to understanding what that means.”

Miguel has done it. He’s left them speechless and every guest is know giving disapproving looks to the trio who can only storm away in embarrassment.

“I think I’m not that hungry yet. How about we take a walk?”

You realize that Miguel is asking you, so you nod numbly and find yourself being led out of the venue. You see Lilly standing at the entrance greeting guests.

Catching your eyes, she gives you a thumbs up and a mischievous grin, not bothered at all about the verbal altercation that was inadvertently caused by you. Amidst the chaos, one thought was clear in your mind.

Just what is going on?

***

The rainbow colored blocks providing as seats for families, friends and couples to take photos makes the sea look even clearer. Silence overtaking the two of you, you busy yourself with noticing how the jagged edges of the rocks are a wonderful addition to the waves crashing near the shore.

“What’s going on up there?”

Finally. You prepare yourself, stopping beside the statue. “I was just about to ask you the same thing O’Hara.” You take a brave step closer towards the hulking man and he briefly looks away before staring back at you. “Not that I’m ungrateful but that wasn’t like you.”

“Then, what am I supposed to be?”

You paused. “Well… you’re supposed to be grumpy and grouchy and keeping me at arm’s length I guess?” You search for the right words as Miguel contains a chuckle seeing how flustered you were becoming by the second. “And you’re suddenly being nice to me? Hell would have to freeze over.”

Miguel closes the already small gap between the two of you and you suddenly feel hot at his gaze. He examines you for a while and you think he’s about to deliver another sharp retort.

“I did try. I tried to keep you away but you were too bright and cheerful for your own good.” Miguel gruffly tells you. “You were so much like her.”

You knew that he was referring to his past. His wife whom no one really dared to talk about. You finally understood. To him, you were a walking and living painful reminder.

“I’m sorry.” You breathed out. The air suddenly constricts in your lungs and you feel the need to get away. Anywhere but here. You turn around and find yourself being pulled into him. Miguel hugs you, and he hugs you tight.

“No, I’m the idiot. I punished you for seeing you as someone else.” He confesses. “I should have just seen you as… you. You were so bright and so brave, I almost lost it when you took the bullets from Kingpin. That’s when I knew my behavior had to stop. I wanted to tell you and I guess I saw this as the perfect opportunity.”

“Oh.” You don’t know how else to react to this sudden revelation.

“But I meant every word. About me apologizing for my past behavior.” Miguel continues. “And that. Earlier on.” He refers to his relentless counter attack on your tormentors. “I didn’t know that you had to go through all that.”

“Hey, we all go through things right? Kind of a ticket to join the spider society.” You try to lighten things up. “Besides, it’s nothing big.”

Miguel pries you away gently, a slight frown on his face. “Don’t minimize your struggles. You are a hundred times stronger than those three combined. After all, that’s what made you stood out to me in the first place.”

Your heart swells at his statement. As you hear the waves crashing, it felt as if like it gave you a sense of newfound confidence as well. It was all or nothing now. You’re inches away from Miguel, his rosy cheeks prominent from the strong breeze that the coastal city offered. “I just have one more question.”

Miguel cocks his head to the side, curious. He doesn’t interrupt, giving permission for you to go ahead.

“You love me. Real or not real?”

He takes you by the waist, lips on yours. It could be minutes or hours before he lets go, leaving you in a daze. But the movement of his lips are as clear as day. One that would be forever etched in your memory.

“Real.”