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luveline · 2 years ago

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𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel does everything he can to make you feel better after a civilian casualty steals your ‘sunshine’. —a fic featuring reluctantly adoring miguel and his sad spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 4k

cw character death, violence, reactive depression

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Miguel," you say, your voice grained by the communicator in his ear, "this universe is almost the same as mine, right?"

Miguel stares down at a Doc Ock variant you're staking out, lying in wait for the anomalistic antagonist to make his first move. He's trying desperately to maintain his focus but you have a nice voice, and you ask him with a confidence that betrays your total faith in him. You haven't considered that he might not know.

Well, Miguel does know. He's not sure he should start this discussion and distract you, but he has trouble saying no to you in any capacity, so he does.

"I don't know every difference, but yeah, they're the same. Same geography, world leaders, roughly the same fast food chains." He bites his lip. He's at work, more than work —you're attempting to save an entire dimension, here— and he shouldn't feed the conversation anymore. But he knows you'll be interested in this. "Donuts aren't a thing, here."

"What?"

"They have donuts, but they aren't called donuts, and they're nowhere near as popular."

"This is a very strange way to flirt," Lyla says, her flickering hazed by a golden aura as she changes rapidly between laying on her front, legs kicking, and her back, as though she's in a therapist's daybed. She floats across his vision lazily.

"That's because I'm not," Miguel says.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing. Talking to Lyla."

"How come Lyla doesn't talk to me?" you ask sweetly.

Miguel can see you in the distance, your simple black suit like an ink splodge against the blue grey glass of the skyscraper you're standing on. Anchored with a web and your body tensed, you're perfectly parallel to the ground below, as though you're standing on the windows.

"It's not that I don't want to," Lyla promises. "Miggy won't let me."

"That is not true."

Projections cover Miguel's vision, powered by his favourite lying intelligence. Movements are mapped in a bright marigold yellow, though the net turns red to signify potential danger, chance percentages bouncing up and down. Doc Ock raises an arm and it turns an eye-straining red. He sits down on a park bench and his body turns yellow again. It's a smart program, but it can't account for everything.

"Something isn't right."

You hum appreciatively. "It feels weird, how he's acting. Like he's two separate people."

Doc Ock glitches hard, the air around him fractured by colours in varying depths, like a tangible, physical screen tone. They've been coming faster. He doesn't have much time before he begins to tear apart, and that tearing will prompt panic. Panic will prompt anger.

"What should we do?" you ask.

Miguel doesn't know. He regrets asking you to come with him, not that you aren't capable. When you first joined the Spider Society you'd hadn't been Spider-Girl in your own universe for very long, and you weren't particularly proactive. You were kind-hearted but lackadaisical, and after worming your way into his life, a flower budding between concrete slabs it shouldn't have the power to crack, (he seriously doesn't know how it happened, only that you'd been bringing him things, carefully wrapped foods and trinkets you'd made, your bad conversation, and suddenly you were worrying about him and doting on him in the strange way that you do, suddenly, he was doing the same), you decided you wanted to help. You've trained hard on Spider-led courses at the Society, improving your overall fitness, your stamina, your technique, to become the fighter you are now. You can hold your own well.

Miguel knows what motivated you. You want to look after him. You'd all but admitted to it. And that's why Miguel wishes he asked someone else to come with him, because you'll put yourself in harm's way as he would for you, to protect.

"Why did you want to know if this universe was the same?" he asks, the nano of his suit morphing over his hands, claws growing long and minaciously sharp.

"Oh! Because, I used to have these favourite cookies called Butter Leaves, but they stopped making them in my dimension 'cos of the Whey disease. Even when it was better, loads of companies couldn't come back…"

You give him the entire history. He already knows it. He tries to listen to you with the attention you deserve anyway, only he's weighed the options, and taking down Doc Ock feels much more important than listening to your cravings.

"They were really thin and they had this sweet coating brushed over the top. You'd like them, I think." Miguel drops the last hundred feet to the ground, ignoring the jarring heat in his ankles at such a landing without having rolled into it. "If they were a little softer and had some sugar they'd taste just like polvorones, Miguel."

"You could say that about lots of things," Miguel argues, tone measured as not to alert bystanders nearby of his presence.

"This doesn't feel like a good idea," Lyla says. Standing now, alert.

Miguel toggles the communicator so you can't hear him.

He wonders if you'd even notice him speaking over the intensity of your excitement, "I know it's not professional but maybe we could go and look? After we beat the bad guy. They're more than worth it, I swear," you say hopefully.

"It's fine," he says to Lyla, throwing out a hand, shins braced and ready to burst into a tackle.

"It feels off, you both said it."

"It always feels off. He's in the wrong dimension, his presence caused a shift. The wrongness is unavoidable, like the body–"

"Rejecting an organ transplant," Lyla says. "I know. You say it constantly."

"If you know, why are you asking?" he asks, deadpan.

"Good to know your girlfriend can ask questions and I can't. You're a trailblazer for equality, O'Hara."

Not my girlfriend, he thinks, but he isn't sure how true that is. Miguel realigns his eyesight, the holographic netting that pinpoints anomalistic stress a menacing red where it maps Doc Ock's limbs. The colours are abrasive against the yellow-green leaves fluttering in the breeze to the grass below, trees like arms stretched toward one another standing behind the simple brown bench where Doc Ock murmurs drunken-sounding ravings.

Miguel's fangs slice through gum and lock into place. He tries not to salivate. The paralysing agent produced gives him a numb tongue.

Miguel attempts to work quickly. Approach the target. Lock the target in. Incapacitate. He rears back and takes a deep breath.

"Wait! Behind! Behind you, Miguel, there's something behind you!"

He twists backward without hesitation and swings his arm around a cold neck. He squeezes hard, hears a metallic crunch similar to a mortar and pestle, but the person in his chokehold isn't a person, it's a robot.

"Octobots!" Lyla shouts.

"HELPFUL!" Miguel shouts back, grunting as a robotic arm curves around his back, and then a second, a third.

The hills of his muscles strain against white-lacquered steel, a sweat breaking at the back of his neck as he groans, desperate to stop the octobot from crushing his arms to a powder. He can practically hear the creaking of his humerus.

Around him, civilians scatter, screaming for their lives as a small horde of octobots descends on the park. Doc Ock doesn't react to the chaos. He sits there muttering to himself as people run past him and his octobots play cat and mouse. Miguel finally snaps the arms off the robot holding him with a pissed grunt, punching the carcass of machinery away from him while you tuck and roll from a dive to the ground. In an impressive show of your improvement and coordination, you throw out a web as you roll and hit Doc Ock square in the face, a second binding his chest to the bench. You spring to your feet, shooting at bots one after another. You must take down six by the time he's gathered his bearings.

"On your left," Lyla says. Miguel smashes a bot at the apex of its white body and she laughs. "Nice. Behind."

Miguel falls into the fight as though it's a well-practised dance. With the stress maps locked on, quick-thinking, and Lyla's pointed direction, Miguel can decapitate or incapacitate each bot swiftly as long as they don't get a hold on him like the first one managed.

You're like Lyla in that a good skirmish seems to set you off —you're giggling, cheering, enjoying yourself much more than you should be. "This is just like that video game," you say, leaping onto a moving octobot and shooting webbing at the joints, gumming them up until they can't move. "With the girl and her super powered puppy, you know that one?"

"Of course I don't know that one." Miguel brings his claws down into the aluminium shell of an octobot as it swipes your legs from under you and tears it in two. It cracks like a halved apple, the gore of its inside sparking and smoking as it hits the ground in tandem with you. Your head whacks hard into the concrete pathing beneath. He doesn't have time to help you.

The arm of a bot races forward like a stinger. This one must be the head of the hive, the Queen bee so to speak, far more complicated than the others in the plating of her ivory bodice and chain-mail like shielding on her arms.

Miguel swears under his breath and vaults at it.

He pulls your droid feed up in his display, watches you writhe from one side and the other as your pained moans play in his ear. You clamber onto wobbly footing as Miguel descends, the screeching cry of metal while it's shorn apart beneath his hands not half as loud as your useless gasping —you're winded, likely concussed.

"Civilian entering range," Lyla says.

"What? Where?"

Lyla has your drone's camera spin on the spot to show Miguel the civilian stupid enough to enter an active fight zone. They aren't stupid at all, it figures, but unaware. A man in activewear jogs the beaten path with headphones in, eyes to the ground. He stops for a moment to look at his sports watch, and like the octobot can tell, it shakes Miguel like a bothersome flea and surges for him.

You're closest.

"Y/N!" Miguel shouts, knowing it's too late before he so much as closes his mouth. You turn, your head braced in your hand, breathing hard with pain. Miguel would take it back if he could.

You can't save the civilian, but you can watch him die.

—

People look at him like he's a ghost, sometimes. Wide-eyed, horrified, they move aside in the halls. They treat him how he feels on his worst days, like someone who should've died a long time ago. Today, things are different.

No less than three Peter Parker' have stopped to stare at him unabashedly. Nearly all make the same jokes, Late for a date?

He'd honestly prefer feeling like a ghost. He can't deal with their derision and he doesn't want to, ignoring their looks and their judgement as he treks to the elevator that's gonna drop him outside of the medbay. The only person he wouldn't mind poking fun at him is you.

You aren't in the mood.

Miguel doesn't acknowledge your prone form at first. He walks to your bedside table to deposit the bouquet he'd chosen, peonies for good health and strength, swapping old for new, changing the water in your small shared sink. He may orchestrate the Spider Society, but Miguel's special privileges can't reduce the extreme turnover rate of the medbay. You have curtains to partition the room for privacy, and you got the bed by the window, and that's as much as he could get you. You deserve better.

Miguel opens the window to drown out the smell of antiseptic. He stands in front of it, his shadow stretching over your twisted hip. You're not sleeping, you're resting. Doctor's orders.

Miguel wishes you'd deign to rest in your own bed, or his, but you're a little too catatonic for a safe discharge either way.

He sighs quietly. You likely hear it with your enhanced senses and still you remain an impassive lump under your blue hospital blanket.

"Good morning," he says, instead of the thousand other things he wants to say, that he's too much of a coward to ask. "Let's get up."

He doesn't give you any choice about it. Starting slow, Miguel rounds the bed to meet your eyes through your sluggish blinking. Perhaps you'd been more asleep than he thought.

Gentle, Miguel peels down your blankets enough to push his hands under your armpits. He pulls you up into a sitting position, and it —it breaks his heart. He's a monolith, he's hurting, he has years and years of loss and grief behind him and it doesn't matter, it finds him again. His heart breaks at your limblessness and your willingness to be positioned like a paper doll.

Miguel arranges the sad pillow behind you and puts the remote for the adjustable bed frame in your hand. The last time you'd been here in the medbay after a training exercise fractured your ulna, you'd spent pretty much the entire time messing around with your bed, even as they crafted your cast. It made for messy work. Miguel must've told you to quit it fifty times.

Your fingers curl around the remote.

Miguel perches on the mattress on one knee to fix the protective style your hair is in. Nothing serious, just smoothing the tiniest of stray hairs and making sure it's still comfortable. He strokes your temple absentmindedly, checking you over one feature at a time. Tired eyes, nose tip looking parched, your lips chapped. Frowning, he sits properly, and he pulls your big hospital bag from the bedside table, his hand falling to your wrist to say, Hey, I'm here, and I'm not going far.

He finds your smaller bag of toiletries and necessities and unzips it. He tries not to think about the last time he had to take care of someone like this as he cleans your face with a wet wipe, two fingers wrapped in the wipe and petting at your skin carefully. He notices the life returning to you inchingly, his touch a tether you're pulling on, so he prolongs his actions. He smooths moisturiser over your face extra slowly. If you asked why, he could say it's cold, but you don't ask.

Your face shiny in the sunshine filtering in through the wide windows, you almost look like yourself again.

"Are you hungry?"

You shake your head. An almost imperceptible gesture.

"This is why you don't feel well," he says. "You're not eating enough."

"That's not why," you say.

He aches to hear your voice. I know, he thinks, but doesn't say.

"Eat something," he says.

You shake your head again. He managed to bring you back and squash you back down in less than a minute. He really doesn't like himself, at that moment. Often, but especially now. He's failing you. He failed you with the octobots and he's failing you now.

Miguel refuses to fail someone he cares about again.

He takes the remote for your bed and lifts the top section so you can sit back comfortably. He shakes the blankets out over you, and he puts away your things. Hopeful, Miguel places new pyjamas and underwear with your shower caddy at the end of the bed and pulls a strict pose, hands crossed over his chest.

"I need to go. Shower, eat breakfast when it comes. Please."

You give him a look that might mean Yes but probably doesn't mean anything, laying down as much as the bed allows and turning your face from him toward the flowers. Miguel leaves, stopping a ways away to look back, and watches through the gap of your curtains as you reach out to touch the flowers he'd brought. Your pinky finger is less than an inch from the petals when your movement stutters, your hand falling back to your chest with a soft thud. You close your eyes.

When Miguel returns, he's thankful to find you've done as he told you. Showered, changed, a discarded breakfast tray at your feet. You've attempted the oatmeal and left the toast to go cold, congealed butter white against golden yellow.

Miguel swaps the tray for his bags. He's hoping you might be tempted to look while he's gone. He knows before you would've known the entire contents of the open bag by the time he'd left the room, but he returns having taken your tray to the rack and is sorely disappointed.

That's fine, he decides. You don't have to look. He doesn't mind laying things out for you.

First port of call: extra pillows. He pulls the plastic wrapped 'hotel pillows' up onto your sheet and tears the plastic. They pop out. He didn't think for pillow cases, so he slides them behind your hospital pillow and pushes you down by the shoulders, not cruel but not particularly gentle —you actually laugh at his handling. He bites back a smile.

"What, you got me presents?" you ask as he dumps a blanket onto your lap. It's one of those soft, shiny fleece ones patterned with those characters you love so much, the girl and her super powered puppy.

You rub your hands over it appreciatively and spread it out over your legs. "What's that mean?" he asks, pointing at the Chinese characters, '超級汪汪!'.

"Chāojí wāngwāng!" you cheer, an impression missing the majority of your usual pep. "Super woof. It's his level five power up. He yaps and Joyce gets her HP back."

Miguel pretends to know, like he'd forgotten, and you're reminding him. "Ah."

You're watching now, interested. He puts his back between you and the bag and you whine weakly, "Miguel."

"What? You think these are for you?"

"Please, I want to see."

He gives in like a cheap tent, passing you a packet of pearly beads for your bracelet making, skeins of variegated thread that change colours, a packet of pencils with frogs on the lids, a plushie. You don't know how to react and Miguel doesn't know what to say. He honestly doesn't want to say anything, vulnerability stopped being his thing a while ago, but he clears his throat. "Do you know what I look like in the middle of Miniso? Picture it."

Miniso being a Chinese home goods store lined floor to ceiling with plushies.

You laugh weirdly. Miguel knows it's guilt holding you back.

"One last thing." He sits down on the bed next to you, hands big enough to cover the box in its entirety. "You were wrong, by the way. Extremely wrong, these don't taste a thing like polvorones."

He passes you the box. You take it into steady hands, smiling widely, your thumb brushing up against the black cursive font. A box of butter leaves from one of your sister dimensions.

"I don't know if they'll taste like they did. Are they the same ones?"

You nod, loosing a breath between parted lips. "Same ones."

"If you don't eat them all, I won't get them for you again."

"That's so mean," you murmur. Miguel would apologise if he thought you meant it.

"That's how it is. Eat your cookies. I'll come back later to make sure you actually ate dinner."

He stands. You immediately grab him, cookies dropped in favour of braceleting his wrist in your warm fingers.

You look up at him through your lashes, a frown dampening your pretty features. At least, in his eyes.

"Please don't go," you say. Your eyebrows pinch together. It's even more heartbreaking than your catatonia, this pleading loneliness, like you think he won't stay.

"You have to talk to me," Miguel says. He softens at your chastised wince, sitting back down again. "Did you want a hug?" he asks.

It's an apology to offer it, though he should've asked you this morning, or yesterday, even the day before. You'd been inconsolable when it happened. Miguel's never seen you that way. Your sunshine shattered, your shoulders shaking under his hands as he led you away from the scene, he didn't hug you like he wanted to. It wouldn't have made a difference at the time. You couldn't speak. You could barely walk.

Seeing something like that happen leaves a mark, even if you've seen it before.

You sweep aside your gifts and twist your legs to climb onto your knees. Miguel hadn't realised how much you wanted to be close to him until you're bordering his lap, your arms sliding over his shoulders, your pyjamas soft and smelling of antiseptic under his nose. A switch flicks at your nearness. He pulls you into his lap and sandwiches you there, chest to chest, thankful for his stature because it means he can encapsulate you effortlessly. He can hide you from the world for a short while.

You choke him half to death.

"It's okay," he says, your back curved into the length of his forearm, leaning forward so you can take the weight off. "You're okay."

"I don't– it's not me. I'm not worried about me."

"It's over," he says. "What's done is done." Which isn't to say it isn't tragic, or that it didn't leave a permanent mark on the world. But you're punishing yourself for a crime you didn't commit.

"It's all my fault," you whisper, your cheek pressing to his shoulder, face hidden in the juncture of his neck.

He tilts his head toward you. "It's my fault. I jumped in. I wanted it to be quick."

"I let him…"

"You had a grade ii concussion, you didn't let anyone do anything. I'm lucky you didn't pass out right there. I'm lucky you had the ability to defend yourself, because I left you defenceless."

"No, you didn't, it–" You rub your cheek against his shoulder. "It happened really fast, you were making sure that bot didn't get me because I was stupid enough to leave myself open–"

"Stop it."

It's harsh enough to stop you in your tracks. Miguel sighs hard, hair blowing away from his face.

He lays down backward, skewiff on your bed, and pulls you with him in a secure but gentle hold. You make a quiet 'oof' as you go down. Apologetic yet again, Miguel rubs a line up and down your back, fingertips between your shoulders, palm flattening as he reaches the small of your back, your shirt inching up. He's sure you look foolish to anyone watching, but for once, he's past embarrassment.

"I don't want to hear you blaming yourself. It's not your fault."

You've twisted on your side on the mattress rather than crush his pelvis, though your chest remains pressed to his. You twist a strand of his dark hair around your finger. "Why did you bring me all this stuff?" you ask softly.

"To make you feel better."

"But why… do you… want that? Why does it matter that much, that you'd waste time going to get me things?"

"Why do you think?" he asks.

Your lips ghost the column of his throat. "Mm… 'cos you're nicer than you let on."

"Wrong."

You laugh again. He's more grateful than he'd ever say aloud.

"Because you care about me too much."

Too much is right. He feels like he's at the stern of the universe's most important ship. The universes, plural. That ship is heading square for an iceberg, for the precipice of a gargantuan whirlpool, and there's nothing Miguel can do but hand out buckets and veer sharply to the left, hoping it will be enough, knowing deep down that it won't be if something doesn't give soon. And he's lived a life, two lives, before he even met you. He's tired. He doesn't want to lose anyone else, and he hoped he could do that by never caring again.

What a stupid hope.

"I just want you to feel like yourself again," he admits.

"I really wanted to save him."

"You can't save everyone."

He knows better than most.

"I know," you say, no tears left to cry, voice impossibly small.

Miguel wraps his arms around you and doesn't let go for a long, long time.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you so much for reading, I really really hope you enjoyed! please think about reblogging if you liked it, I appreciate it <3

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thelastofhyde · 9 months ago

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a mercenary named time.

pairing. jackson!joel x fem!reader

synopsis. as joel begins to age, memories of sarah are beginning to fade. though he wants nothing more than to talk to you about his troubles, there's something standing in his way: he never told you about sarah.

warnings. this is more joel x sarah centric than joel x reader oops, hurt/comfort, ageing + difficulties that come with it, grief, mentions of death/religion/afterlife+ generally other sensitive topics, fluff, does this count as whump? (v minimum editing/proofreading)

word count. 4.9k

hyde’s input. wrote this as an attempt to distract myself from the fact i was on a plane (i hate flying). not much happens plot wise, and it just becomes me analyzing joel (in my own way) halfway through but hey, i wrote it and, though it's nowhere near perfect, i'm gonna post it!

due to the ties tlou has with zionism, here are helpful posts/links regarding the ongoing genocide in palestine. from the river to the sea. ( post, link, post )

Aging has become a threat again.

A part of him wonders if the threat ever truly left, or if it simply migrated south of his brain, chasing a warmth only leisure possesses, to make way for a survivalist winter’s cold. With the safety of walls and the sanctity of the commune, at last he’s caught on to the passing of time, the slow-crawling spider who spun its web into his skin.

During the cold, there'd only been movement. Pacing down streets divided by those who live in fear and those who brandish riot gear, and tip-toeing past fungal-faced mutations, and stumbling in a daze of pain through snow to find her. A safety distance of unmarked miles, away from that hospital, is what it took for him to finally pull over, cut the engine and exhale. Out with the panic, and the urgency, and the fear. Ellie was there, laid across the back seats, a paper gown as blue as any April sky, a cursed relic upon her sleeping form, terrorising him with images of what could’ve been, had he failed to save her too.

In the warmth, there’s tranquillity. Stretched out legs upon worn out sofas, quiet hums of forgotten tunes on rescued guitars, tangled limbs on love-stained sheets. A home, a daughter, and a you, whatever you may be. A fallen angel, a summer fairy, a ray of sun. Any form you come from, he accepts it, welcomes it. Thanks it for bringing you to him, smelling fresh as a daisy, riding up next to him on his first patrol, smiling as sweet as the honey he’d eaten with his breakfast when you asked him if he needed help reigning in his horse.

No, he’d grunted more than spoken to you. And wound up flung off its back, ten paces later. From the ground staring up, he’d watched your face appear above him. Bitten back laughter, a stretched out hand, and a question of if he wanted to swap rides, take your mare for the day.

She’s far friendlier, you’d assured him, after he let you think it was your strength that pulled him back to his feet. Takes to strangers a little easier than him, you’ll be safe.

And he’d believed it, against his own nature.

Tommy had been the one to notice, to nudge him hours later and nod his head in your direction. Real sweetheart, ain’t she? Joel’d said nothing. Shrugged his shoulders, dipped his head, sipped the whiskey out his cup. Tracked your movement across the room like a hunter stalks its prey. Or, maybe, it was more like a bee examining a flower, wondering if the pretty vibrance of your outsides carried a match to your insides, if the taste of your soft petals was a great enough sweetness to satisfy a craving he’d long foregone.

Four months of observing later, spring came and he stung.

Since then, you’ve been his, whatever that may mean anymore.

He’d already been yours.

And yet he finds himself unable to tell you of his recent trouble, the emerging signs of his age that the needle of time has begun to stitch into his seams.

The greys that curl upon his head grow more frequent. Blink, and they seem to double. His skin stretches differently than before, at times it feels he wears it more than owns it. There’s aches, and pains, and cracks from his joints, where before there’d been numbness and tiredness. A back that refuses to straighten like it used to, no matter how hard he stretches under the fleeting warm drops of his morning shower.

A guilty conscience whispers in a voice much like Tess’, a memory of her telling him ageing means he’s still here, even if she’s not. It’s harder to find the good in it, anymore, when he has so much to lose again.

It’s his memory that scares him most. Like a photo album, the images within seem to fade with time and, the more he grabs at them, the more they wear away.

It started with something small. Forgetting you’d told him you would be heading over to visit Maria and the baby after your patrol shift, leading his heart to near beat out his chest as he raced down to the stables like some crazed man, rambling about how something’s happened to you, you’re not back, only for some kid- Jessie, a friend of Ellie’s- to tell him you came back hours ago. He’d pulled you a little tighter against him that night as you crawled into bed, the earlier unnecessary fear a little too visceral in his racing heart.

Then, it happened more often.

Ellie asked him to help her clean out the garage space for her, he forgot and agreed to cover someone’s turn cleaning the stables.

You told him of your love of mint tea, and instead he found you green.

Tommy asked him across the dinner table- a double date, a cause to debut Ellie’s first solo babysitting duties- if he remembered the name of that old bar they’d liked, and his mind was blank. Empty.

All of it, inconvenient. Yet he could brush it off, let it affect him only like a bruise: momentarily, till it faded.

Until recently.

Until the memories of her began to fade.

He’d woken up one morning, earlier than you like always. Kissed your sleeping face, creeped down the creaking staircase, switched on the stove to boil some coffee. And realised he could no longer remember what she’d liked better: pancakes or waffles.

A few weeks later, he tried recalling what shade of blue her soccer team’s kit was. Was it light blue? Or a darker blue, like fresh denim? Was it even blue at all?

Ellie asked him, the caution she used to bring towards mentioning her name long gone with the changing of seasons, if she’d liked any comic books. The sound of a runner, itching and twitching behind some fence interrupted before she could notice he didn’t have an answer.

Sure, she read. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d caught her curled up in bed, the light of her torch illuminating more than just the pages of a book, but her face, too expressive for her own good at times, reacting to each twist and turn of the story. Sometimes, he’d stand in that doorway, unnoticed, till her eyes dropped shut and the light rolled out her hand. Other times, he’d clear his throat, catch her off guard, and tell her get to bed, kiddo, or I’ll tell Mrs. Atkinson you’ll be round after school tomorrow.

What use is it, however, remembering all that, if he can’t remember if she liked comics?

He should talk to someone about it, he knows. He’d tried to, at first. Had tried to drink the courage into him, sat across Tommy one late night, sat around a fire as they settled in for a night in the ski lodge, stranded by some heavy snowfall. He failed then, just like he failed when he tried to tell Ellie, till she raced off to throw snowballs at some kids and he remembered she was too young to listen to his burden, too beaten by life already to deserve stress within the respite of Jackson’s sanctuary. When he failed a fourth time to speak to Tommy, the real issue dawned on him.

He wants to talk to you. You’re the one he talks to, the one he goes to bear his wounds to, trusting no other’s love but your own to patch him up and calm him down. There’s only one issue, however.

He’s not told you about Sarah.

It was never a conscious decision, some secret he’d chosen to hide. Speaking about her simply hurt and, after the arduous months of crossing the country with Ellie, finding a place to call home in Jackson, and learning to hold somebody close again, he’d wanted to get away from pain, for a little while.

Then came the first anniversary of her death spent inside the commune. He’d drank himself blind, like every year before. There’s a hazy memory of that night he’s glad to suppress, one where he’s covered in his own vomit and you’re struggling to hold his weight up under a pouring shower, the sounds of his sobs muffled into your soaked sweater. He’d awakened, and awaited the questioning. Expected to open his eyes and find you stood at the foot of his bed, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. Seeing the room empty was a shock, but drifting slowly down the stairs and finding you scrubbing the stains out of his shirts near floored him.

The very same shirt you wear now, curled up on the sofa. Your eyes are shut, legs are bare, and there’s a gentle breeze that blows at the curtains you’d hung up, your first act upon moving in with him.

With a careful step, he avoids the creaking floorboard as he crosses the threshold. Slow as he can, he lowers the bag off his shoulder and props it gently against the wall, careful it doesn’t slip and let its contents spill out. Then he works at his laces, undoes them one by one, loosens them so his feet meet no resistance as he steps out of them. The summer’s heat affords him the liberation from heavy coats, less layers to shed now he’s returned to you at last.

You lay right, he strays left. Towards the kitchen, footsteps light as he can manage. Two chairs are pulled out at the table, two bowls sit drying neatly by the sink. Ellie must’ve stopped by for dinner. He’s glad to know she’s eaten, glad to know you kept each other company, glad to know the light is off in the shed and her snoring fills the hollow space. And he’s glad to find some food for him. He takes a bite, lifts the plate, finds a note beneath. Your handwriting, what do Joel Miller and breakfast have in common? followed by an arrow, urging him to turn the page around. The answer’s there, weakening his ageing knees. I can’t start my day without them.

Back by the sofa, a book sits split open, spine broken and pages pressed into ageing wood. Its cover is faded, frayed, much like he feels himself becoming.

He recognises it as one he’d gifted you, seasons ago. If he tries hard enough, he can remember the snow collecting in his unruly hair as he waited at your doorstep, and the way your smile melted the chill away, and the mumbling fool he’d made of himself upon handing the present over to you, some version of said you were bored, so I found this for you all he managed before turning on his heel and striding back to his own home, ignoring the teasing smile upon Ellie’s face.

After all this time, you still have it. Still read it. The fact slows his heart, soothes his aching back. Suddenly, he’s more than ready to head back out there, beyond the walls of Jackson, if it means collecting more books for you to remember him by when he’s long gone and withered away, no more than a familiar smell stained into your sheets and a fading warmth in the palm of your hand.

Two loud pops sound out of his knees as he crouches down by your side, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses the closer he grows to your sleeping form. There’s a want, nestled deep inside his bones, to pull you into his arms and deliver you upstairs to a bed made for two, in search of a peace his soul has not found since he’d left for his shift in the early hours of the morning. It would be cruel, however, to wake you when you’re so beautiful.

Joel once thought he’d liked you best when you were smiling, till you’d fallen asleep on his porch one night, after hours of talking his ears off. Since then he’s liked you best sleeping, resting. Comfortable enough to trust his watchful eye to keep any harm away while your body takes back its much needed rest, even on days like this when he’s not physically there. You’ve got his shirt, his scent embedded into every thread of it, and that’s enough to keep you safe.

The rough of his fingertips reach out to graze the soft of your cheeks, gently dancing up to comb a few strands of damp hair away from your face. It seems you’ve gained your own spider, the faintest of lines beginning to take shape upon your skin. You wear it better than him, Joel thinks, the passing of time upon your body a picture of love, and prosperity, and hope for more time to come. He wears it like a burden, however. A death sentence, a timer on how long till the cold hand of Death takes the place of your warm one clasped in his.

Adjusting to a life he fears to leave has not been easy. There’d been a time where the promise of death was a comfort. To wake each day, reckless with his time and mindless to his body, a thought of all the pain, and all the sorrow, and that overwhelming, heavy, overbearing loneliness that hung over him like a storm cloud at last coming to an end and ceasing to exist, it had kept him going. Though faith died alongside her, a dream of reuniting with his babygirl on the other side was one he clung to on nights when no drop of alcohol and no unlabeled pill was enough to send him off to sleep. Death now, however, means parting from you, from Ellie, from Tommy. It no longer comforts so much as it disturbs him.

Would you comfort yourself, in the wake of his death, with dreams of reuniting someday, down the line, when Death takes you by the hand and guides you back to Joel?

He can only hope his babygirl can forgive the way he now longs to keep living, in spite of her waiting patiently for him in whatever comes after this life. Perhaps his failing memory is a consequence of this, a punishment she sends for making her wait even longer to feel his embrace again, slowly stealing away the only parts of her Joel has anymore.

Even in guilt, he can’t bring himself to believe his Sarah would do such a thing. Her heart was never touched by the bitterness that had hardened his own, her soul pure a freshly fallen snow.

I want you to be loved, dad. Echoes of her voice in his mind, words she’d confessed to him with teary eyes, a half-eaten birthday cake sitting between them, two candles, one in the shape of three, the other a zero, tossed messily on the table. There’d been no real fuss for his thirtieth, at his own insistence. Just his parents, his brother, his daughter. Those he loved, gathered around one table, eating away at food he’d made.

I’m already loved, kiddo. I got you, don’t I?

Joel knew what it meant to feel unloved. For a long time, that’s all he felt. The love only a child could gift died just as quickly in his arms as she had, under the watchful teary eyes of his brother. Grief he dragged around with him, dedicated to both her and the love he no longer felt.

First came denial. A steady 48 hours post-mortem, in which he walked ahead of Tommy and convinced himself she was there, a few feet behind him, talking her uncle’s ears off as he made sure to clear any oncoming threats The denial culminated in him bleeding down the side of his face, a missed bullet somewhere left behind, and Tommy’s pleading voice trying to move him forward, dragging him to tents set up by the army.

Eleven stitches, each one imbedding loss and cowardice into his screaming skin. The anger settled in a few days later. It made a home within Joel, latched onto his heart and began to beat in place of it. It changed him, aged with him, convinced him it was the only partner he’d ever need. A hopeful glimmer of bargaining came in the shape of Tess. But anger and all its roots were too deeply burrowed within Joel, unwilling to be weeded out, no matter how firm the hand.

Complacency was far easier than any fight. Tommy left, the buzz of a firefly seducing him with the idea of better, of more, of a cure. Joel convinced himself things were easier without Tommy and his morals around. The routine of waking, struggling, drinking, passing out was one he practised well and thoroughly. Till Marlene and her suicide mission.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Ellie, with all her snark, and her crass words, and her humourless puns, reminded Joel how it felt to be loved. Laid upon his chest, a need for warmth and a plea for him to survive, she became the closest thing that felt like Sarah in twenty years. How could Marlene expect him to walk away, to leave her in that hospital?

Pain rushes in like a wave meets the shore, dampening him in a melancholy he saves for whiskey. Still resting peacefully on the sofa, your chest rises slow, steady, and constant. He tries to mimic it, matching his own breathing to it. It reminds him of dancing with you in the kitchen, barefoot and bare chested, arms entangled and forehead pressed to forehead, doing his best to stay in sync with your gentle sways.

The floorboards creek the further his aching body sinks to the floor. Like a man meets the altar, he’s on his knees. Blunt fingernails dig into the worn out brown leather of the couch, the only grip he has on reality.

A discombobulated memory dances across his mind. One of a much younger him, with a head full of brown locks and a sleeping daughter upon his couch. Outbreak night. He’d been peacefully unaware of the happenings outdoors, happy to turn another year older next to his Sarah, when a call came through. His brother, dumped in some jail-cell and begging for release. He’d not thought it through much, sighing in frustration yet rising slowly to his feet nonetheless. If he’d known how that night would end, he’d have held his daughter a little tighter as he carried her to bed, he’d have left every kiss he could afford against her forehead, and speak every I love you he had left in him.

Grief is a river that travels the mountain of his mind. Strong, cold, descending upon a downward slope. Its currents are unforgiving, grabbing a hold of anything that blocks the path. Too easy is it for him to slip and fall into the rapids, losing hold of his footing on reality before he realises he’s struggling to breath and there’s a whole new river carving a way for itself out his eyes and down his cheeks.

His eyes close. His breath halts. He tries to remember those breathing exercises, the same ones he uses any time the pain swells too much and the panic begins to attack his nervous system. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Deep breath in. Choke down a sob. Slow breath out. Joel. He pictures you, feet upon solid ground, hand stretched out as you try to goad him out the trepid waters of his grief. Joel. This image of you reminds him he’s got a name, got a life, got a purpose. To help Tommy on patrols. To make sure Ellie always has a place to call home. To keep you warm in the winter, and kissed during spring, and safe no matter where the sun may sit. Joel. The tears fall faster. Messier. He’s no longer a quiet companion at your side, but a mess of ragged breathing and nose sniffles.

“Joel?”

Skin to skin. Soft hand to wet cheek. You’re awake faster than he can process, too quick to wipe tears or feign smiles. Legs scramble off the couch, parted and bent at the knee on either side of him. Musk, and lilies, and every scent that makes him feel safe and close to you envelop the shared space between you.

“Joel, baby, what’s wrong?” Your thumb swipes uselessly at his cheeks, fresh waves rolling out his eyes before you finish wiping the last. Sleep is written all over you, woven into your breathy voice and weighing down the bags of your eyes. He feels a whole new wave of guilt, waking you from such a peaceful slumber with the sight of him and all his ailments bursting out the frayed seams that hold him together.

He thinks he says your name. It’s hard to tell. The blurred image of you through his teary eyes inspires a heavy burden of disappointing you that he can not cope with, and so he ducks his head between your legs, forehead pressing on the inside of your left thigh. His breath is short, his heart is sore, and he’s staining your delicate skin with his pain. You let him grieve upon you, pull him closer. A hand soothes up his back. Your voice tells him it’s okay, and you hum a sweet tune he’s sure he’s played you many a drunken nights, when the confidence kicks in and he’s serenading you with his country twang and guitar strings.

There’s no prying, no demand to rightfully know why you’ve awoken to your lover, steadfast and stoic at his worst, collapsing into your hold. You let him cry. He lets you hold him. You’re all he’s been missing, this feeling of support he’s denied himself for far too long. No fear of your judgement, but fear of pulling you in amongst the dangerous currents alongside him.

An anchor comes in the shape of your fingers carding through his unruly hair, a tether that pulls him back into the living room, into your home, into you. With the patience of any saint, you let him move at his own pace, head slowly rising from your thigh, back straightening to the best of its abilities. His hand, rough and hardened by time and grit and survival, paws at your thigh, clumsy in its attempts to dry his tears off of you, a fear of it sinking into your skin and some part of his sadness taking root inside your bloodstream.

Your hand stills his, gently, coercing his fingers to thread with your own as your other hand cups his face and guides him to look at you. You're beautiful, in a way that makes Joel wish he was better with words so he could spend the rest of his days finding new ways to tell you so. Instead, he has to settle with a simple, “my pretty girl.” You smile, bashful, as if that’s enough, as if you don’t deserve more.

“Hello to you too, handsome.” You peck his cheek, he chases after you with his mouth. Two small pecks, a third he fails to achieve as you hold him back. “Don’t think you can distract me with those perfect lips of yours, Miller. I’m worried about you, and no amount of kisses are gonna change that.”

He refocuses on his breathing exercises. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Deep breath in. No sob this time. Slow breath out. Your gaze, soft as a cloud, rests over him gently, your own chest rising and falling in sync with him. With every night he’d lay awake, trying to think of how to bring up Sarah and the details of her he’s failing to hold onto, never did he imagine the weight to fly off his chest so easily with just a supportive smile from you.

“I had someone before, who I loved.” He pauses. Clears his throat, shifts his weight. His knees are beginning to ache the longer they sit digging into the hard floor. He should have listened to your advice of scavenging a rug. “Not how I love you. Like I love Ellie.”

Silence.

Not the kind where you hear a pin drop, but one that allows the laughter of children playing down the street to blow in with the breeze, and the creaking of the old house you’ve both made a home, and the squeaks and chirps of wild-life continuing on outside, unaffected by the end of civilisation.

Then, “I know.” Joel’s eyes widen, disbelief painted across them. “Tommy’s let it slip a few times. Just when we’re on patrol and he sees something that reminds him of her. Or he’s telling me a story that’s sole purpose is to embarrass you.” A part of him wants to feel angry at his younger brother, stealing his right to reveal such a large part of who he is. The other part of him feels for him too, a reminder that Sarah’s loss is not one he tackled all by himself. She was his daughter, but she was also Tommy’s niece. How could he blame him for feeling comfortable enough to share his grief with you? “Ellie also mentioned it, once. Back before you and I were really…” You fall silent, trail off, as you both usually do when faced with tackling the task of labelling what exists between you.

“Why,” he chooses to distract himself from it, scared of a world where he asks for the right to claim himself as your husband. Those things don’t matter anymore, with the world gone to shit, but a man could still dream. “Didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s your story to tell, I didn’t want to force it out you. I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”

He may not know how to label what you are to him, but he knows he loves you. God, does he love you.

“Thank you, darlin’, I really-” He’s getting choked up, caught between his grief for Sarah and his love for you. You seem to understand, as you always do, hands slowly pulling and coercing him up onto the sofa, occupying the space next to you. “Can’t thank you enough.”

“You’ve nothing to thank me for.” You promise, sealing it into his skin with a kiss to his cheek. “I don’t like to see you cry, Joel, but I prefer you do it in front of me. Don’t hide parts of yourself. I want all of you. Good, bad, and everything in between.”

There’s the urge to let himself fall into the river again, now that you’ve pulled him ashore and attached yourself to him like a life vest, an oath to never let him drown. He feels his eyes well-up, but doesn’t let them fall, as his mouth runs ahead of his mind and at last confesses the troubles he’s been keeping close to his chest.

“It used to be like this every day. Tears, unless I numbed myself free of consciousness. Then, things got better. With Ellie and you around. Anytime I felt the anger or the pain swelling, you’d be there and there’d be room for laughter. But I’m getting older, darlin’. Memories’ not the same. There’s things about my babygirl, my Sarah, that I just… can’t remember. And it scares me. Scares me so bad that I don’t know how to cope with it. If I ever woke up and couldn’t remember her face, it would kill me. I wouldn’t be able to go on.”

He speaks slowly. You cling to every word, a gentle nod lets him know you understand. A part of him wonders how deep that understanding runs, if you too had lost a child. He wants to afford you the same grace you’ve given in, and so he doesn’t pry. If you have a story to tell, he can only hope to still be around to listen.

Oblivious to the thoughts of you holding a faceless child swirling around in his head, you pull Joel into you, encouraging him to let you hold his frame. You’ve told him countless times he needs to let himself be cared for, a spark that ignited many arguments in the early days of your love. It feels nice to comply at last, head drifting down to rest on your steady shoulder. Your legs curl up onto the couch, lay gently over his own, as an arm wraps itself around his aching back.

Only like this does Joel feel he’s finally arrived home after weeks of wading through the depths of his own sorrows, evading a bounty placed upon him by time.

Joel is ageing. Everyday, a new line appears on his face. Every year, a new ache burrows in his bones. But, if each moment he can feel your love in acts of kindness, and left-over meals, and sleepy limbs upon a shared mattress, it doesn’t feel as daunting. He wonders what awaits him in the afterlife, when he and Sarah reunite as he so hopes. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that she’d be proud of him for finding solace in a heart like yours.

“Tell me about her.” You plead to him something he’s spent years longing to do.

Without missing a beat, words flow easily and memories play on in his head, his precious daughter no longer blurry in a haze, but fully in focus, smiling wide at him with a mouthful of food.

“She loved pancakes.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel miller oneshot #pedro pascal x reader

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helluvapoison · 1 year ago

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Crystal Clear

Zestial x Reader

warning: lil violence, probably inaccurate old english

Consider yourself lucky to find yourself under Zestial’s good graces and watchful eyes. While he sends you bottles of delicious, ancient wine and carnivorous flowers, others are on the opposite end. That’s what Alastor tells you at least and he refuses to elaborate. While you’re curious to know what could be the opposite of flowers, you think your imagination might be an easier pill to swallow than the truth.

You’ve long since agreed to go on that promenade with the Overlord (which you’ve found out means a walk by a lake) but Zestial, according to the notes on the recent bouquet of grey roses, “hasn’t known a moment’s peace” for a month now. His cursive is flawless with accentuated strokes and curls that take up the entire card. You wanted to thank him for all the gifts but a call felt impersonal… and something told you he didn’t own a phone.

A letter would probably suffice except you weren’t sure where to send it. Alastor continued to be no help. At first it struck you as odd because you thought the two of them were friends but that’s on you, you should have known Alastor doesn’t have friends. So you set out to Zestial’s corner of The Pride Ring. It was old fashioned like Cannibal Town but not nearly as nice.

By that, you mean the people are just as shitty as they are everywhere else in Hell.

Not even two steps over the invisible threshold and you’re shoved into the side of a building, cool brick meeting your shoulder hard. You move to give the jerk a silent “fuck you” at the very least, raising your middle finger as she bolts away from you. Two steps the same, she’s dragged into an alley by a shadow.

“Pray tell,” A familiar voice, so smooth and close, drowns out the nearby screaming. Zestial himself steals your attention and your breath. You don’t even have time to wonder where he came from.

“Doth thyn own eyes deceive? A firefly has entered the web of a spider by thous own accord? Thy had not expected this turn of events. What brings thee to my web this hellish day?”

“Oh! I wanted to thank you for all the presents you sent.” You explain, patting your pockets for the envelope addressed to him.

Humming, his eyes roam across his name as he gingerly takes the pink paper. He doesn’t open it then, instead bringing into the abyss of his coat where it disappears from your sight.

“The pleasure belongs entirely to thyn own self,” Zestial says politely, his smile disappearing as he speaks, “Oh how outrageous thou must be, for thou has been generously patient. Apologies, firefly. Thyst swears this will not happen twice.”

You tilted your head, brows pulling together as you deciphered Zestial’s words. When it settles in you’re quick to hold up your hands. You’re so quick to fix things, you missed his pet name again.

“I—Oh! No, I’m not upset! I understand you’re busy.”

This pleases Zestial immensely, his smile returning and etching across his face once more.

“Thous kindness continues. Please, allow thy to return thee from whence thou came. Thyn would be remiss should something happen to thee.” He paused, voice dropping as he glared over his shoulder, “Twice.”

Zestial swiftly offers his arm to you when you try to see what he was looking at. A part of you did know he was sparing you a gruesome sight… the other part didn’t care as much as you should.

Falling into step with the Overlord, you’re suddenly aware of how much labor he’s putting into walking at your pace. It looks effortless enough. He practically glides as he walks anyhow. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed by you. Despite slightly delving into his frustrations (via cards) about how busy he was, he seemed in no rush to return to his territory to deal with whatever it may be.

“I looked up what promenade means, by the way,” You say eventually, though the silence between you both was comfortable enough, “I’d officially like to accept your invitation now. When work slows down for you, of course.”

Zestial chuckles, looking straight ahead, “Thyn has been working tirelessly to ensure uninterrupted time with thee. Much like this, only with a more suitable location for such a sweet soul as thou.”

“Tirelessly, huh? Don’t forget to take breaks,” You chastise playfully.

“In thys undead existence, thyn has come to be sure that there is no time for breaks. Change is constant and quick. Thyn is forced to adapt when thyn does not wish to or thy will be left a—how did one say? A relic.”

Now it was your turn to frown.

“Someone said that to you?”

His amusement remained alive as ever despite the terrible insult.

“Fret not. There shan’t be much for one to say any longer.”

You cross your arms and nod firmly.

“Howevermore, mayhaps there was truth in one’s words. It appears to thy, that the more thyst resists the ever growing changes of this modern day, the farther thyst casts thys own self into darkness.” Zestial sighs and trails off towards the end, “Tis a rather lonely existence.”

Slowly, you nod your head. It takes a minute to translate what he said and another to respond but Zestial is nothing if not patient.

“Change is constant,” You begrudgingly agree.

He hums in appreciation, “Precisely.”

“But it doesn’t have to be lonely if you don’t want it to be. You have Carmilla and—” You hesitate which caught his attention.

“And?”

“Well, I was going to say me. If you want, that is.”

Zestial chuckles. It’s a dark, raspy sound that makes your bones vibrate and sends a shiver throughout your body.

“Thy would be honored to call thoust a friend.. for the time being. Thy can only be content in the darkness for so long now that light has been seen. Thoust will inevitably succumb to a courtship, thyself assures thee.”

“You lost me a little bit,” You replied, dipping your hand from side to side in a so-so motion.

The green of his eyes shrink upwards in amusement yet again. Zestial straightens, looking around as if debating something he doesn’t feel inclined to share this time. You show him the same courtesy he showed you and waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“As commerce for such a divine outing, and solidifying our enriching conversation, thoust will be repaid in kind. Just this once.” Zestial declares, holding up a single, slender finger from his coat, “You and I are much alike, dear firefly, we shall not be easily discouraged from our desires.”

He holds out his hand and waits for yours to join. It’s not a perfect fit, his fingers could wrap around yours two times over, but it feels nice. Zestisl is oddly warm with soft palms and an unfailingly gentle grip. Bowing, he kisses your knuckles like he did the first time,

“Until next time. Thy will count the seconds,” He says quietly.

You don’t realize there’s an audience until he sinks into the cracks on the ground and absconds from your view. If you’re honest, you didn’t catch quite a bit from the last few minutes. You’re still stuck in the web of time where Zestial said he desired you. At least you think that’s what he said. Funny, even when he says it in layman’s terms you’re still not sure what Zestial meant.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #zestial imagine #zestial x reader #zestial headcanon #hazbin hotel zestial

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a-leg-without-fear · 5 months ago

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Insomnia🩸🌧️

some lore for vampire!!!

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader🩸

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 2.0k

Warnings: angst, nightmares, PTSD struggles, cursing, alcohol mention, Logan is a Flirt (i guess?)

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

You woke with a start. Heart pounding against your ribs so hard you swore they would crack. Sweat dripped down your forehead and the back of your neck. The pale blue sheets draped across your bed were tangled with every limb they could wrap around.

Wooden walls and antique furniture met your frantic gaze as your eyes darted around the room. Your room. In Charles Xavier's mansion. Where you'd lived for several decades at this point.

The concrete walls of your cell in Washington, DC were a thing of the past. Rust-colored blood stains splashed across the floors, slivers of light leaking through the metal door, spiders making a home in the upper corners. You were free of that life.

So why did you still dream of it?

The muscles in your neck groaned as you sat up against your headboard. You were tense, anxiety oozing into your blood. Your head made a thunk when you let it fall back against the headboard.

Nightmares weren't a foreign concept to you. Almost every night, your mind would be filled with your past. Flashes of pain and terror and blood. Scenes replaying over and over, night after night, tormenting you with long claws digging into your mind and scratching your sanity away.

You needed to walk. To clear your head, to calm your pulse.

Unwinding your legs from the sheets was like pulling the limbs from a nest of angry snakes. You tugged at the fabric in near desperation. It clung to your clammy skin, restricting you, restraining you, keeping you captive.

Breathe.

The memory of Charles's calming voice gave you pause. Your eyes fell closed, a deep breath filling your strained lungs. Air blew from your pursed lips as you released the tension from your shoulders.

You were safe. Nothing could hurt you here. Your friends were here, your kids were here, the life you'd built with bloodied fingernails was here. Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Charles would never let anything happen to you.

Now that the shaking in your fingers had subsided, it was quick work to pull your sheets away. The damp fabric fell away like clouds on a windy day. You pushed yourself to your feet. A tremble ran up your legs, unsteady feet finding purchase on the hardwood floor. You gave yourself a few moments to find your balance.

The cold of the untouched floor seeped into the balls of your feet, grounding you. Bringing you back to the present. You were in the mansion. You were safe. The mantra repeated in your mind as you scooped up your sweatshirt from the end of your bed.

Grey cotton filled your hands. Soft, comfortable, familiar. You wore this sweatshirt nearly every day. Finding solace among the plush fabric that shielded you from your own mind. The fleece interior tickled along your arms as you pulled it on. Like securing a piece of armor, you tugged at the zipper until you were completely encompassed.

You made for the bedroom door as you pulled up the hood. Fabric cradled your head, acting like horse blinders and centering your focus, while your fingers wrapped around the brass knob. Cold metal caressed your palm like a frozen kiss.

Another strained breath forced itself through your lips as you pulled open the door. Empty halls decorated in plush carpets, large vases, and dimmed sconces met your tired eyes. All of the wooden doors lining the hall were shut tight. Made sense, given it was the middle of the night.

Bare feet padded along the patterned carpet as you walked. You kept your focus zeroed in on the design woven into the fibers. Spiraling leaves and floating flowers chased each other across the artwork. Faded reds and golds braided amongst one another. You remembered buying this particular rug. In spring of 1983, when you and Charles had been decorating the mansion together.

The fond memory of your shopping spree with your closest friend kept your thoughts comfortable. You clung to the feeling, holding it close to your chest, as you followed the routine path to your destination. Framed paintings of stretched landscapes passed in your periphery not covered by your sweatshirt's hood.

Moonlight shone in gentle rays through the balcony's glass doors. Silver bounced off the polished hardwood and gave the surrounding space a comforting glow. You grabbed one of the iron door handles and pushed out into the night air.

It was cold. Nearly biting, the breeze blowing across your face in brief nips over your sensitive skin. Barren trees spotted along the vast lawns of the mansion. Just barely green grass flowed in an ocean of waving blades under the moonlight. The empty duck pond was still, the water calm, where it sat far off to your right.

Directly beneath the balcony was the dried-up vegetable garden Jean liked to maintain. The tomato plants had withered earlier in the month, with the green beans and peas following closely after. Winters in New York were not to be trifled with when it came to gardening.

You leaned against the metal railing. Chilled metal dug into the fabric of your sweatshirt and leeched the cold into your skin. Though, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was grounding. A reminder of where you called home now.

There was a special sort of peace to be found on this balcony. Especially since during the colder months, it often went untouched. The small table and chair off to your left remained vacant for the vast majority of fall and winter. Not many students preferred the view from the balcony over the comfort of the common areas.

Crisp air filled your lungs as you took in your first deep breath. It poured down your throat like cool water, pooling in your chest and spreading through your body. Tendrils of gentle water ran under your skin. Telling you that you were safe, that you were home, that you were loved. The night air often was the exact thing you'd needed to calm your mind.

It seemed easy to forget your past, now that the comforting chill coursed through your body. Days spent locked away from the world were distant memories. Like glimpses of another life through a thick fog. Flashes of chains and blood were tucked safely away behind a wall of moonlight.

"Mind if I join you?"

You spun on your heel to face this intrusion. This brutal slash through the comforting silence you'd so carefully cultivated.

Logan stood in the open doorway. Sweatshirt that matched yours clinging to his chest, jeans hung low on his waist, dark hair styled in those two points that reminded you of cat ears. A playful smirk tugged at his lips.

"Why?" was all that could escape your throat in your startled state. Your palms dug into the rail as you squeezed at the metal behind you.

The smirk remained firmly in place as Logan sauntered through the doorway. His hands were clutched behind his back, the top of his sweatshirt unzipped to expose his bare chest, hazel eyes catching in the moonlight as he looked at you with faint curiosity.

"Figured you could use some company, seeing's as you're out here on your own an' all," he replied easily. He kept a healthy distance from you as he approached. Long fingers trailed over the table's surface, dragging freshly-formed drops of dew in their wake.

You chuckled lightly in an attempt to mask your wariness, "Trying to make friends on your first day?"

"Something like that," he said softly, stepping up next to you near the railing. Thick arms rested on the iron as Logan mimicked your earlier position. One leg crossed over the other, chest leaning on bent elbows, half-lidded eyes surveying the landscape.

Mirroring him, you turned back to the vegetable garden. Wooden stakes jutted up from the earth like small saplings. Dry brush and long-rotted vegetables lay strewn inside the dirt beds.

An easy silence rested between you, disturbed only by the wind rustling the barren branches of nearby trees. Undeniable warmth spread from the man next to you. Like he was a furnace placed on the balcony to make anyone taking in the view nice and cozy. You could nearly feel the heat spreading from his arms and into the railing beneath you.

"You get nightmares too, huh?" Logan finally asked after several quiet minutes. It wasn't unkind, the way he phrased the question. It was more curious. An offering of relation between the two of you.

"Most nights," you answered simply. A low hum of recognition rumbled deep in his chest.

"Every night, for me. Can never remember them, though," he said with a sigh. You noticed the repetitive tap of his pointer finger on the back of his hand. Nervous tick, maybe.

"Seems we're both pretty fucked up," you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. Logan barked a quiet laugh.

"You could say that again."

The kinship you felt with him was like nothing you'd ever felt before. From what Jean had discovered earlier, Logan couldn't age. Neither could you. Logan had a troubled past he couldn't fully remember. You had a troubled past, but one you remembered all too well. Logan was the product of experimentation and years of heartache. You were the result of decades under the thumb of the U.S. government, forced to torture POWs during WWII.

Maybe there was finally someone who could understand you. Understand what you've been through.

Charles did the best he could. He was the only one in the mansion anywhere near as old as you. Unfortunately, you still had 27 years on the great Professor X.

"Do they have alcohol in this place?" Logan grumbled with a tired groan. His head fell to rest on his forearms. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Not readily available to newcomers, bud. Play your cards right and you may be shown the secret stash," you said with a dramatic whisper. Logan's shoulders shook with a chuckle, shaking his head where it laid on his arms.

"And what cards would those be? We talkin' blackjack, poker, or go fish?" he replied as he straightened his back. Hazel eyes connected with your own. A spark of familiarity flashed in your mind.

Conversation flowed so damn easily with Logan. It was like talking to your reflection. A male, ruggedly handsome, 6'2" without shoes reflection. The sense of relaxation you felt around this man you'd met this morning wasn't a fact to be taken lightly.

Was this part of his mutation? Getting others to trust him? It wouldn't be too far out of left field. Hell, you could pop people like balloons with your mutation. Manipulating others' emotions wasn't that strange of an idea.

"Y'alright, doll? Suddenly got quiet," Logan asked softly, breaking you away from your swirling thoughts.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Sorry, I just... Zone out sometimes," you explained quickly in one breath.

You jumped as a warm hand landed on your shoulder. Strong, heat bleeding from the large palm into your skin. An involuntary shiver rocketed up your spine.

"Seems like I ain't the only one needing a drink," Logan said with a small smile. The effortless kinship that emanated from him was nearly intoxicating. Reeling you in on an invisible fishing line. Clouding your judgement with a haze of quickly developing trust.

You should pull away. Nothing good could come from falling into friendship this fast. Decades of being a mutant had taught you that intentions weren't always what they'd seemed. A person could be offering you a hand only to shove you into oncoming traffic.

"Know what? A drink sounds great right now," you murmured as you stepped back. Logan's hand fell from your shoulder like a dead weight. You turned on your heel to lead him inside.

Maybe if you pumped this guy full of liquor, you'd be able to tell where his head was at. Why was he being so nice to you? Especially after you'd heard how he'd acted around Scott? You hugged your rapidly chilling sweatshirt closer to your body.

Logan Howlett. "The Wolverine." You'd get to the heart of what made him tick soon enough.

and she doooooes >:) i LOVE my babies so much. exploring their relationship in its entirety is SO FUCKING FUN!!!

taglist: @ripleyswife @just-a-nightdreamer @venomqueen2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @c1eepypas1a

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#hugh jackman #logan howlett #wolverine #james logan howlett #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine fanfic #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #ANGST BABES #tuna-tober #tuna tober prompt challenge 2024 #promptober #murdock tuna team #i love logan and vampire SO MUCH y'all DON'T UNDERSTAND

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dansnaturepictures · 1 year ago

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07/02/24-Winchester and home

Photos taken in this set are of; Long-bodied Cellar spider at home this evening and phone photos of daffodils and snowdrops adorned by raindrops, cyclamen and ivy, beautiful views at Winchester Cathedral, blossom and possible crocuses and bergenia in Dean Garnier Gardens at the cathedral. Breathtaking views of dashing Wren and Blue Tit in Abbey Gardens was a joyful lunch time moment with winter heliotrope at Lakeside, Grey Squirrel in Winchester and possibly a Cetti's Warbler heard at the River Itchen other highlights today.

#long-bodied cellar spider #grey squirrel #blue tit #wren #flowers #birds #photography #outdoors #winchester #home #wildlife #wednesday #walking #wild #nature #happy #europe #hampshire #2024

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lilbitdepressed27 · 6 months ago

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Alcina Dimitrescu/Fem!Reader

Summary: One where you get bit by a spider after breaking up with your long time girlfriend and only running into her again after saving her daughter years later. Break up between you and Alcina happened when you both were 17 (You got bit by the spider at 17, you save one of Alcina's daughters at the age of 25.) she doesn't know about your powers also the suit in using in this is the armored advanced suit from the play station Spider-Man.

Warnings: angst, violence(only a little), open ending(kinda)

WC: 8.5k

Author’s note: this one has been finished for quite a while now, hope you guys enjoy:) I’m also still working on some requests don’t know when those will be done tho. I missed the tall boob lady

You had been spending most of your time swinging through the city. Helping where you could. Today had been great so far. You had rescued a kitten from a tree. Helped a lovey elderly woman across the busy streets of New York. Assisted the police in a car chase. Helped a little girl with her science project. And you finally got your project approved at your place of work. Which happened to be the Heisenberg Industries. You had interned there while you were in college and it had been something you had fallen in love with. Making things, building things had been something you always loved doing. It's how you build your amazing spider suit.

At the age of 25 you were set. Well mostly set. The job payed great. It was an easy job. Mostly, it didn't interfere with your other job. Even if most times it made you too busy for a social life. You only had a few contacts on your phone. One for work and the other for a great detective named Jill Valentin. She called you only when it was urgent. Or sometimes you called her when you were finished doing some ass kicking. You had made sure your phone could in no way be tracked.

You smiled as you sat at edge of a building, letting you feet dangle as you relaxed. That was until your police scanner, voiced out in your suit.

"Attention units we had reports of a possible kidnapping. Report to Greenwich ave. Victim is a 5 year old girl, red hair wearing a yellow flowered dress, suspects car is a grey sedan."

"That's close by." You jumped off the building, swinging towards the last location. There was way too many grey sedans around the area for you to know which one was the right one.

"Good thing my mask can zero in on muffled noises."

You jumped down on to the busy street. The noises in your mask leading you to an abandoned parking lot. You saw a car and the muffled noises were becoming clearer and clearer by the step.

"I want my mommy." A little girls voice cried. You moved quickly, ripping the trunk door off the car with your Spidergirl strength. At the sight of a little girl tied up your anger spiked. The tears streamed down her face. Breaking your heart in the process.

"Hey it's okay. I got you."

The little red head looked at you with wide eyes. You cut off the rope tying her wrists and ankles together.

"S-Spidey?"

"Yea it's me kiddo. You're safe now. I gotcha." She seemed to relax just a bit but she was still crying. She wrapped her arms around your neck and you picked her up from the car. "No one has called me that before. Maybe that could be your little nickname for me. How does that sound?"

"Rreally?" She hiccuped as she pulled away whipping her tears with a her hand balled up.

"Oh yea of course. It could only a nickname you could call me. What's your name that way I can give you a nickname."

"Daniela! My-My name is Daniela." She finally smiles at you. Her breathing settling just a bit, little hiccups escaping her lips.

"Mm Daniela that's a sweet name. Okay how about Lil D. SpideyDani." At the mention of SpideyDani you saw how her eyes lit up. You chuckled behind your mask as she nodded excitedly. "Okay SpideyDani how about I get you back to your-Oh no the bad men are back. Please don't let them take me." Her little cry of pure fear cut you off her breathing once again picking up.

You turned around to see a group of men coming towards you. Your hold the toddler tightening just a bit.

"Okay SpideyDani, I'm going to put you in the car with my friend spider bot. He'll protect you while I go kick some butt." The spider on your chest detached it self and climbed on top of Daniela. She giggled as you whipped her tears. The spider resting on the toddlers shoulder.

"I'll be right back. He'll keep you safe." With a nod from the toddler. You smiled behind your mask and shut the door.

"Well fellas. I gotta say I'm disappointed. A little girl? Really? Not cool."

There was a total of seven men, five of them with melee weapons and the other two with hand guns.

"Give us the kid Spider freak."

"That little brat will win us a load of money."

"Enough talk." One of the men with a gun raised it but you were faster. Shooting your webs and ripping it out of his hands. You moved quickly, webbing him up to the side of a car. Dodging a pipe that swung towards you. You ripped the the gun out of the hands of the other kidnapper and pulled him forcefully towards you and into a punch. Knocking him out cold.

Two down. Five to go.

Taking down the rest of the kidnappers was a walk in the park. Nothing you couldn't handle. Once everything was done with, you let out a huff and went back to the car. You called it in before actually getting to the car. You wanted this douche bags to pay for the trauma they caused the little girl. You opened the door and Daniela jumped into your arms, the spider going back to your chest.

"Hey it's okay SpideyDani. You're safe now." She held you tighter as you took her out of the car. Your spider bot going back on to the center of your suit.

"I want my mommy."

"I'll take you to your mommy. Hold on tight okay."

You had swung slow and carefully towards the police station where you heard over your police scanner that mother of the Daniela was at. Once you got there you were confused on why there were so many reporters there. There was a small barrier keeping the reporters away from the main entrance to the building. You landed gently in front of the building and made your way in. You didn't get five steps in before you heard Daniela cry out.

"MOMMY!!"

You looked up and felt your heart stop at the sight of the woman in front of you. You watched as the woman tuned around her eyes welling up with tears as she ran towards you. Her eyes that were filled with anger and concern were now filled with relief.

"Daniela!"

You put Daniela down once she started to move in your arms. You watched as the little girl ran to the woman you once called your lover. Although you had tried to burry it. Ignore the heart break this very woman that stood in front of you, had left you in. She had broken up with you, had left you with out a reason, an explanation on why. Nothing. She had just left. Seeing her now, had made all your buried feelings to resurface. She had grown into a beautiful woman, her once long hair was now just above shoulder length. Her beautiful blue eyes still shinned like they did before. Her features were just beautiful as before just mature, older.

"Thank you Spider-Girl. Thank you. Thank you. You brought my little girl back to me."

You were brought out of your thoughts as she addressed you. You cleared your throat. Feeling the lump in your throat that had started to form.

"Of course ma'am. It was the right thing to do."

At the sound of your voice, you watched as she snapped her gaze towards you. Her eyes burned into your eyes. You knew she couldn't see your eyes but it felt like she could. You saw the furrow of her eyebrows as she looked at you. She can't tell it's me right? There's no way.

"Well I'm glad little SpideyDani is safe and sound. Now I must be off." The little girl beamed at you from her mothers arms.

"Bye bye Spidey."

You chuckled as you waved goodbye. But before you could actually leave a hand shot out to you. Grabbing the inside of your elbow. You looked down at the hand and felt your heart break all over again at the sight of a wedding ring.

"I'm sorry ma'am but I really must be off." And like that you left. Hoping to never run into her again. Even if part of you wanted to see her again. It you knew, with this lifestyle it was dangerous.

You couldn't believe it. Alcina was just as beautiful as the last day you saw her. Maybe even more beautiful if that was possible. You hadn't seen or even heard from her in almost eight years and a half. The only thing you knew after the break up (it was more of her just leaving with out a word) was that she had moved away. And that was it. Never to be seen or heard from, up until now. You even tried to call her but your number never got through. Your messages and voicemails left unread and unheard. Going as far as trying to reach her little sister, Donna or her little brother Salvatore. But it was no use.

"Y/n there you are. I just wanted to say that your recent project has made quite a difference already." You beamed at your boss who came into your work station. You shook away the thoughts of your ex lover and directed your attention to your boss. You had known him for almost six years now. Even though you didn't really know much of his personal life he was still like a great mentor for you.

"The stocks are shooting up, which means more money for the company, more money for you and most importantly more money for me. But seriously, great work kid. The city thanks you. Now I have a dinner date with the family. You are free to go for the day. Celebrate kid. You deserve it." Karl patted your back as he smiled down at you. He knew from the moment you stepped foot into his building you'd do great things. And the years you have worked for him, you haven't let him down.

"Thanks sir. I already have more ideas I'd like to show you." You pulled out your notebook but was stopped by his hand.

"I said take the day kid, I'd love to see your ideas but after you get some rest and put that big brain of yours to rest. Now go before you make me late for my dinner. And for the last time it's Karl."

"Okay have fun with your family dinner."

"Doubt it. My sister is coming and I haven't really seen her for quite awhile. Well, I'll see you later kid."

She sat at the dinner table with her daughters, mother, sister, her sister's daughter and her younger brother. They were just now waiting for her older brother. Karl. She had been close with all her siblings except him. Even when she was a child. Karl had spent most of his time with their father. Who lived in Romania. Her parents had divorced when she was young. So she hardly ever saw Karl. Up until recently when she had grown somewhat close to her brother.

But as she sat at the table with her family. Her thoughts drifted to Y/n. Her past lover. The only person she ever loved. Who she still loved. Even after all these years. She had never regretted something more than when she had to leave you. When she had to break your heart in order to keep her own family safe. It was something she regrets. It was something she'll regret to the day she'll die.

But her mind drifted to the hero of New York. She never really thought of her. She knew her daughters loved Spider-Girl. She knew Spider-Girl had been around for quite a while know. But she never really thought about it until now. That voice. She could have recognized it anywhere. But it had been so long. But that voice.

Looking back when the spider first appeared had been around the same time you had started acting strange. You had become more secretive. You always had new bruises and cuts on you. You had always blamed it on your clumsiness. And her being the idiot she was. She had believed you. She had known you for five years before you started dating. She knew how clumsy you were. There was no reason to doubt you. But looking back she should have paid attention more.

Could you be Spider-Girl?

She almost wanted to laugh at how insane it sounded. Cause there was no chance. She was delusional.

"Sorry I'm late, had some business to take care of. Hello girls."

"Hello uncle Karl." Were heard from the four toddlers at the table. The older man smiled and greeted his siblings and mother.

"Uncle Karl I met Spidey!"

Karl looked at his youngest niece and smiled. He still felt anger for what his niece went through. If it weren't for Spider-Girl, he didn't know where Daniela would be right now. The men that had taken her were going to be in jail for a long time. He made sure of it. But so did his sister. Alcina had made sure they never saw light as free men again.

"Oh really. That's awesome kiddo. I heard she's super fast."

"Oh yea uncle Karl super super fast. She was kicking butt while her spider buddy was with me and protecting me." Daniela gushed, her trauma of being kidnapped being over looked by her experience with Spider-Girl. Daniela had told her sisters on how Spider-Girl had taken her swinging and how spider buddy had kept her entertained while you kicked butt.

"I can't believe those-Mother please. Not in front of the children." Alcina cut off her mother. Knowing very well how angry Miranda was when she heard of what happened to Daniela. Her mother took a deep breath to calm herself and nodded.

The waiter showed up to the table and took everyone's order. The four children kept on talking about Spider-Girl. While the adults spoke about Donna's garden center, Salvatore about his job as a doctor, Alcina with her wine business and Karl with his business.

"Oh yeah business was great. A worker of mine has the brain of a genius I swear she's coming up with inventions after inventions. With everything that she comes up with I think I'm gonna have to change the name to hers." He said proudly. He felt like a proud father any time he got the chance to speak of you. In his forty years of living he never met a worker like you. You were more than just a employee to him at this point.

"Oh yes I'm so proud of you and your company Karl. Everyone I'm so proud of everyone." The older woman gushed about her kids. The adults around the tabled smiled at their mother.

Alcina was trying to focus on her little brother Salvatore talk, she really was but her mind kept on drifting to you. She wondered what you were doing now. You were twenty five now. Eight full years without seeing you, hearing your voice. The times you two would cuddle in her bed. After all these years she was still in love with you. Your voice was something that was engraved in her mind and heart.

"Mommy when can I meet Spider-Girl?" Alcina looked towards her middle child and smiled. Her two eldest girls have been wanting to meet Spider-Girl since Daniela had been saved by the hero.

"I don't kn-I actually have someone who works for me that knows Spider-Girl." Karl said gathering the attention of all his nieces. He couldn't help but laugh at the sight of four hopeful and pleading looks.

"Please uncle Karl. Please. Please." The four children pleaded.

"Oh I don't know, your moms have told me that you've been bad girls. Not putting your toys away. Not finishing your homework-WWHAT?!"

Now the five adults laughed at the tiny outraged faces looking at their mothers. "That's not true! Uncle Karl I put all my toys away before we came, right mama." The tiny five year old said. Donna chuckled towards her daughter.

"That's right sweetheart."

"I'll have to ask my friend Y/n if it's okay with Spider-Girl. I hear she's really busy."

At the sound of your name leaving her older brothers lips her head snapped towards him and then her mother. Who was already looking at her.

Miranda had known about you since you and Alcina were kids. She saw how in love her daughter was with you. She saw it in everything her daughter did. The smile Alcina would have every morning, knowing that you would always send her daughter a good morning text. The way her daughter would talk about you. The love her daughters eyes held any time she looked at you.

She had always liked you for her daughter.

But the moment her ex husband came back into the picture was when everything came crashing down. She had tried everything to save her daughter from her own father. But everything had happened too fast.

She saw the happiness leave her daughters eyes the moment she was told the news.

Thankfully, now her daughter was divorced. Getting away from that man after everything. Being able to take her granddaughters away from the crazed man had been such a blessing. From the moment they were taken from their homes and taken back to Romania, they fought tooth and nail. But she had forgotten how powerful her ex husband truly was. So they had to bid their time.

After the birth of Salvatore, she herself had gotten away from her ex husband. Successfully getting away from that man, the moment Karl had turned eighteen she had helped him escape. And when she was fit to travel she divorced her ex husband and never looked back. When her ex husband died it had been a blessing in disguise. That had truly helped them in getting away from Alcina's husband. With her ex husband no longer alive the deal between her ex husband and ex son in law was no more.

Her family was no longer in danger between the two mafia bosses.

"Y/n? As in Y/n Y/ln?" Alcina her voice cracking just bit. Her eyes shinned with hopefulness and eagerness.

Karl looked at his younger sister confused. He had no clue Alcina knew you. He knew you were way too awkward to talk to any attractive lady. And he wasn't blind his sister may have been a brat but she was an attractive woman. There was no way you knew his sister. He's seen how you react around anyone really. If it wasn't about business you'd always keep to yourself. Which is why he'd always be the one to present your work to the public. It was never you.

"Uh yea. I didn't know you knew Y/n. She works for me. A great kid. She has a bright future ahead of her. That's for sure. I'll talk to her girls. I'm sure she can pull some strings but no promises okay."

The girls excitedly giggled with each other.

Alcina was left thinking about you. How she was coming closer to seeing you, after so long she was going to see you again.

"Hey aunt May, hey uncle Ben. Sorry I haven't visited you guys. It's been busy. My project got accepted and it's been doing the city good. I have a few other projects in line. Hopefully they do just as well. Um you're not gonna believe who I saw today." You sat on the grass after setting down the flowers at each grave. Ever since losing your aunt may last year, you had been throwing your self into work. Spider work and your actual paying job.

"I saw Alcina, she's just as gorgeous as the last time I saw her. Even more gorgeous now if that's possible. Is it bad that I want to talk to her? I mean she left me, she's married now. Has a little girl." You felt your eyes fill with tears. The emptiness in your heart grew. Feeling stupid and foolish for thinking that maybe one day Alcina would come back to you.

"She's happy. She's moved on. I think it's about time I do it to. Right? Well I-" At the sound of sirens blaring near by, you knew it was time to work. The city never slept, it was New York after all. You stood up from your position, looking down at the two grave stones. "I know I'll be careful aunt may. I'll be back soon." You put on your mask and went to work.

You were a little sore the following day. Going into work a little later than usual. You had called Karl of course, he understood and said you could come in at any time. So it was a little later than usual when you did arrive at work. Making your way to your lab, but before you could you were stopped.

"Y/n Mr.Heisenberg wants you to go to his office." Karl's assistant spoke from her desk.

"Okay thanks Ethan."

Walking into the office you had not been prepared to see four little girls in the office.

"Oh are you Y/n?!" A little girl with her black hair spoke. You swallowed the lump in your throat. The little girl was a spitting imagine of Alcina. So Alcina has two little girls.

"Uh yes, I am."

"Y/n do you know Spidergirl? My uncle Karl said you do." A girl with dirty blonde hair said as she now stood next to the little girl that looked like Alcina. But then another girl approached, this one you did recognize. Daniela.

"Yes. I've spoken to her a few times." You couldn't help but chuckle at the excitement on the four little girls.

"Can we meet her please, please!"

You couldn't help be startled just a bit at how the four spoke simultaneously. A laugh rang out in the room. You looked away from the four girls to see your boss standing there.

"Sorry Y/n, I may have mentioned that you knew Spidergirl last night, they begged me to bring them in with me today." The only reason he knew you knew Spidergirl was because he had walked into your lab at a late hour only to see you upgrading Spidergirl's suit. It was no wonder Spidergirl's suit and equipment were so unique. It was cause you built them for the hero. He understood why you had to keep it a secret. Spidergirl's enemies would go after you if they knew. And since he cared deeply about you and your safety he kept his mouth shut.

"Well I'm only supposed to call her when it's an emergency." You tried to escape this situation. It's not that you didn't want to, but you didn't really want to be known for being "friends" with Spidergirl.

"Pleaseplease."

But you were always a sucker for her pout. It was even worse now seeing it on three little girls faces. Well turns out Alcina has three girls.

She must be really happy.

"Okay I'll call her, but if she's busy. You girls have to understand okay?"

The girls squealed in excitement as they nodded.

You walked into your bosses office again through the balcony window but this time dressed in your spider suit. You had left to make the "phone call".

"Spidergirl!" The four little girls cheered and ran to you.

"Hi guys!" This time you came prepared with a slight voice changer. Not wanting Karl to recognize your voice. The girls didn't mind as they were too happy to see spider-girl. "Well I can't stay long but my friend said that she wanted to meet some people. And Spidey-Dani, happy to see you again buddy."

The beaming smile on Daniela was the absolute cutest. "I'm super happy to see you to Spidey. This is my sisters Bela and Cassandra, this is my cousin Angie."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Spider-girl."

The girls giggled the smiles never whipping away from their faces. "We know Spider-girl."

You also let out a short laugh, "As much as I would love to stay here and chat with you guys I-" And as if god was hearing you the loud sound of police sirens was heard. "Duty calls. It was nice to meet you."

And like that you were gone.

Working back in your lab was all you needed. It was quiet, the only sound being from what ever you working on and the low sound of the music being heard. It was the great atmosphere that you just always got work done. The sound of the doors being slid open was heard.

"Mr.Heisenberg, I'm not even close to being finished, and this is like the fifth time you've checked up on me. It's not gonna get done any quicker." You didn't even look away from your work. You continued your work on a device that could help with the patients that suffered from a loss of a limb. The device could help them with the pain and make them feel like their missing limb was still there without the pain.

It was still a work in progress.

When you didn't hear anything in return, you knew you weren't in danger. Seeing as your Spidey senses didn't go off. You set your equipment down and turned around. Freezing in your seat at who you saw. A part of you, a small part, the hurt part, hated her. Hated that she moved on so easily. Hated that she threw you away like you were nothing. Like the love you shared was nothing. Yet it wasn't love, was it? Not for her. You had been so sure she wasn't going to try to see you. That she wouldn't want to see the person she left behind all those years ago. But yet here she was, in all her glory.

"The lab is closed. You can't be in here." You finally found your voice. Swallowing the lump and hoping your face held no emotions. You didn't want to see her (yes you did) didn't want to hear about how happy she was with her daughters and husband. You turned back around to face your table.

"Y/n, please. I just want to talk-Well I can't I'm working on the clock. Please leave the same way you came in." You said your voice never wavering. You couldn't allow her back in. Not just because of what she did to you, but also due to what you did on your free time. Being Spidergirl had its sacrifices. Huge sacrifices. You had no friends. No love life....No family left. No one to put in danger. Not after losing Aunt May. You wouldn't allow

Your self to get attached only to lose them.

Aunt May's death was your fault.

"Y/n I know you're hurt, you have every right to be. But if you would just allow me to explain my-Mrs.Dimitrescu, is that still your last name? I'm busy. There's nothing to talk about. Now please. Leave me alone."

Alcina stood there with barely concealed tears as she looked at the back of your head. She didn't know what she was going to expect but it's wasn't this. She was foolish to think that you would hear her out. The hurt in your eyes when they first laid on her. You had not been surprised to see her. Meaning you had already known she was in town.

She wasn't going to give up.

She'd be damned.

After a long day at the lab you finally clocked out. Leaving the building the regular way and not the window. The city was quiet petty crimes, crimes that police could handle. So you had continued your work on your project. Deciding to ignore the little encounter with Alcina. You could ignore it, till it really was the only thing you could think of. Pushing it to the back of your mind.

"Y/n."

So much for pushing it to the back of your mind. You tried to ignore the voice. The voice that still sent shivers down your spine. After all these years. The love you had for her was still there.

"Y/n please. Just give me ten minutes of your time."

"Well I wasn't even worth that much to you. Not a call, text, nothing. So why would I give you ten minutes of my time. I don't want to talk Alcina. Not now. Not ever. You moved on. I moved on. The end. There's nothing to talk about." You were bitter. But you were also doing what needed to be done. She had kids. Children that needed her. Being in your life would only bring danger and pain to her. And you didn't want that.

"Go back to pretending I don't exist. You're good at doing that." With that you walked away. Trying your best to ignore the heart broken look she casted your way. You were doing this for her. To keep her safe.

Alcina had cried a few times. She cried when you both were only thirteen and you had fallen off a tree and broken your arm after returning a baby bird back to its nest. She cried when you first confessed your love to her at the age of fifteen. She cried when you first said I love you. She cried and cried when she was forced out of her home by her father without much as a say. Cried she was forced to leave you with no chance of a goodbye. Cried when she was forced to marry a random man. Cried when she had to bare his children.

Now she was crying for the love she truly lost. You didn't even want to see her. The closed off look in your eyes was hard to miss. She knew she broke your trust. Broke your heart. But you had always been one to give someone at least a chance to explain.

"Mother told me how you know Y/n." Karl saw the heart ache in his sisters eyes when she got home. He always knew his father was greedy selfish bastard. He had left his father's side the moment he turned eighteen. Refusing to ever see that man. The moment he left. He never saw him again. Didn't even bother going to his funeral when the old man died a year ago. He had helped Alcina get out of the marriage she had been forced in. That man had not been a good husband and even worse dad to his nieces. He had done a few things to that man to make him sign the divorce papers and give up his rights as the father to the girls.

He would have never thought that the kid, sweet, shy Y/n had his sister like this.

"What's it to you Karl?" She drank her wine as she looked out her window in her office at home.

"Y/n's closed off Alcina. She keeps everyone at arms length and there's a reason for that." He sat back in his chair. Remembering what happened.

Alcina turned her chair back to Karl. "What do you mean?" The worry clear in her voice.

"A year ago, during those attacks by that crazed doctor. He attacked a F.E.A.S.T center. a center Y/n's aunt was in, so was Y/n. Aunt May didn't make it. Y/n was lucky to have survived. And a few others but Aunt May...She's been alone for the past year. She hardly talks to anyone. Barely talks to me. And she has no friends no living family relatives."

Alcina took everything in. Her heart breaking for you. "Wait, what about her uncle?"

"Oh he was killed in a store robbery, four years ago."

Alcina felt her heart break even more. You were alone. Spent the past almost five years alone. It was no wonder you were so closed off. Everyone left you, given aunt may and uncle Ben weren't by choice. It hadn't been her choice either. But you didn't know that.

She needed to fix this.

You sat on the cold floor, fresh flowers sat in front of the two grave stones. Never had you felt so alone. You missed your uncle and aunt like crazy. Wishing on every star you could have one more moment with them. You wished you could hear your uncle and aunt give you the advice you so desperately needed.

You didn't notice you were crying till you felt the familiar warm arms wrap themselves around your shoulders bringing your back close to her chest. Causing you to cry even more. Everything rushing out. The hold on you grew tighter.

"I'm sorry draga. Words could not express how sorry I am."

Her voice was right by your ear. Soft and gentle words ringing in your ears. Her voice always tended to calm you down. You moved to get out of her hold but you felt her tighten her hold.

"Please don't. Don't go. Not without letting me explain what happened. Please let me explain and then you can go, I won't stop you."

With a sigh, you gave a slight nod. You didn't realize how much you missed being in her arms. Her hugs had always been so warm.

"I was taken from my home by my father. He had forced me and my mother along with my siblings out and took us back to Romania in the same night. If I had a choice I would have stayed. I would have gone to you. He made me leave everything. I wasn't even able to pack a bag. My father forced me to marry this filthy man thing, I had no choice. It took me too long to get out of that situation. It helped that my sorry excuse of a father died of a sudden heart attack last year. Divorced my husband the same day with the help of Karl."

You took everything in. You didn't know much of her father onto that he had separated from mother Miranda when her Donna was a baby. Donna was the youngest out of the four of them.

Finally gathering yourself you pulled away from her embrace, standing up as you also helped her up. You cleared your throat as you looked down at your joined hands. The hand that once had an engagement ring along with a wedding ring was now bare. You couldn't. You can't.

So you let go of her hand. "I'm sorry you had to go through that Alcina. It's terrible. I'm..." You weren't sure what you were supposed to say. You felt horrible for what she went through. You love alcina with all your heart. She was the only woman you ever really loved. But the fear of her being put in danger just by talking to you was enough to put halt to anything. You let out a deep breath.

Hands gently cupped your face making you look into her beautiful blue eyes. Those eyes that looked at you like you were both still seventeen. Making you feel even more guilty. "I still love you Y/n. More than anyone. I've never stopped. You have always been my other half."

You pulled away from her, "I'm sorry. I—I don't love you anymore. I've moved on. This is goodbye." You didn't give her a chance to speak. You turned and walked away. You would rather be alone than to put her in danger.

She has kids to think about.

Being Spider girl could not be harder at times like this. It has been a week since you last spoke to Alcina. Taking the the long awaited vacation time you saved up. With the approval of Karl of course. He had always said you deserved a break. And this time you actually listened.

With no worry about your actual paying job you focused more on being Spidergirl. It was hard. You could wipe the heart break on Alcina's face.

It was the right thing to do.

"All units, prisoners form the raft are on the loose. Reports of Electro, Rhino, Scorpion, Vulture, Martin are on the loose."

With that, you were back to work. Moving quickly towards the raft. You had stopped them before. So doing it now should be a cake walk.

It was in fact not a cake walk. Never did you have to face five of your arch enemies at the same time. Your body hurt. You were bruising in places you couldn't see. Bloodied. Most of your suit was torn. But thankfully your mask was still in tact. You were able to stop rhino. Thankfully. Scorpion and Vulture were a bit more difficult cause they had decided to work together. But with your own powers and smartness you stopped them as well. Electro, you threw his ass in the water and placing a power dampener around his neck, you were the only one that would be able to take it off.

Martin had escaped the moment he had the chance.

"Can you hear me Spidergirl."

The chilling voice of your old friend Otto Octavius. His voice sounding throughout your mask.

"You can hear me. I have something of yours. Why don't you meet me. Meet me where it all began."

Your mind raced, trying to figure out what he could possibly have. The old building where you used to work for a brief time before your internship with Heisenberg. Otto was an old friend. Someone who gave you a shot. But he had been so driven by revenge.

The building was empty, there was no signs of anyone being in the building. When your Spidey senses went off you dodged the mechanical arm that shot your way. You fought fast and hard. But these tentacle arms were faster and stronger. They were clearly upgraded as well.

"Oh now spider, what's wrong? Have you been slacking since the last time I saw you.?" His arms held down your body holding it tightly preventing you from moving.

"Otto, this isn't who yo-Shut up, don't you ever get tired of repeating the same thing every single time. Now look who I have here. Our guest."

One arm moved to turn on the lights, your heart halting at who you saw tied to a chair. Mouth covered with tape. "Let her go! She has nothi-That's where you're wrong."

Alcina didn't know what was going on, why she was here. She had remembered leaving Karl's building feeling dejected. He had informed her that you had taken a temporary vacation. She couldn't just let you go. Not when you were clearly suffering. She could see it your eyes. Your eyes never lied, and you were in clear pain. She'll make it right. But before she could get to her car she had been taken.

Now she was here watching this old man fighting with Spidergirl. The frightening thought that the girl behind that mask was you was pushed back to the front of her mind. Seeing Spidergirl get punched and kicked down. The suit had been torn and ripped when she had arrived.

"She has everything to do with this. Due to the fact that you care about her. Ugh why don't we just show her so she understands."

The mask was torn off Spidergirl. The familiar y/hc hair flowed down her face as Spidergirl tried to hide her face.

"Don't be shy now." Otto grabbed a fist full of hair forcefully pulling your head back. You heard the muffled gasp. You looked into the blue eyes they held so much concern and anger. You weren't sure if that anger was directed at you or Otto.

"Y/n here has tired very hard to keep her identity a secret. Tried hard not to trust the wrong person. What did that cost you last time y/n? Aunt May? How is she?"

You tried hard to escape the arms but they only tightened. Making it hard for you to breathe. Your eyes burned with tears, "oh are you gonna cry? Your friend here hasn't been in the city for a month and her daughter has already been kidnapped. Why you may ask? Well let me answer. You! It's always your fault Y/n. That's why everyone leaves you."

Alcina succeeded in cutting the rope trying her hands together. Mentally thanking Karl for the small knife in her bracelet. She didn't know how to help you, but she needed to make sure you didn't believe the words coming from that psychopath. She saw the bright light behind the man's neck. She could take good guess that, that was what controlled the arms.

With how distracted the ex doctor was, it was a lot easier to sneak up to the doctor.

You tried to not look at Alcina. To not give her away as Otto kept on talking. You tried to keep his attention on you. Including his arms.

"It was your fault Otto. Heisenberg Industries did everything you couldn't do. Save lives. Change lives. You were too...pathetic. Too weak to take the chances you had." One of the arms wrapped around your neck. One arm was still wrapped around your body as his two other arms held him up.

With all his attention on you, it was enough for Alcina to sneak up behind him.

"You dare disrespect me Y/LN!!?" He had become red in face from how angry he was. His arm tighten around your chest. A silent chocked yell of pain. You felt two of your ribs cracking. "After everything you-No!" You fell hard to the ground along with Otto. His four arms also making him useless with the chip not working.

Alcina was quick to punch the old man and living him unconscious. Rushing to you when she heard you groan. "Y/n! You have to stay still." Your face was covered in scratches, blood and already forming bruises. Your suit was torn, parts of your body were just as cut and bruised. She had been forced to watch how Spidergirl had been brutally beaten by those villains. To now know for certain that it was her Y/n. You under that mask...seeing your eyes refusing to look at her, but she could always read you well. Those y/ec eyes that were red from being chocked but also red from holding in tears.

"You have to go." You bit your lip in pain as you moved to stand up. Refusing to look at her. You tried pushing away her hands as you painfully picked up your mask. Putting it back on as it still did its job at keeping your identity a secret.

You thanked the gods above as the cops stormed the building. "Spidergirl, thank you for the help, we got it from here." Not letting Alcina get to you as you were soon leaving alcina in the safety of the police officers. Otto being taken by the swat team.

You were in a great amount of pain. You were in your underwear and sports bra, trying your best to clean your wounds up. But you couldn't. You couldn't reach the wound on your back, you were on floor of your bathroom with a first aid kit open. The supplies scattered on the floor.

Alcina now knew your deepest secret. She hadn't been back for a month and she now knew. You remembered the look on her face when Otto had taken off your mask. The shock, disbelief in her eyes. You had looked away the moment your eyes connected to her blue ones. You had tried so hard to make sure no one knew, Otto was the only one to know and look how that turned out. Otto had become a different person and got lucky in finding out.

You knew (or hoped at least) Alcina wasn't like that. Granted you haven't seen Alcina in years.

A sound coming from outside the bathroom caught your attention. You didn't have the energy to fight off anyone. The sound of heels clicked frantic, like the intruder was looking for something. You groaned as you tried to stand up, arms shaking. But it had been no use. Your arms had become completely jelly.

The door to the bathroom was pushed open.

Alcina had found her own way to find you. It had been easy, it was just her luck that you still lived in your aunt Mays home. The house had been just as the same as she last saw it, just with a few new additions to it. Thankfully you still hid the spare key in the flower pot.

Right after she had given her statement to the police officers she had left straight to you.

The house had its own little differences, but it still brought her the same warmth it did before. Pictures of aunt May and Uncle Ben still hung around the living room. She didn't have time to look at every single new picture that hung the walls. Not when the image of your being badly hurt was still fresh in her mind.

Your room had a bathroom connected to it. And her feet took her directly to the room she spent so many hours in. Finding the torn spider suit on the floor the blood droplets leading to the bathroom. Finding you on the floor of the bathroom, in only your undergarments. Bloody bandages scattered on the floor as first aid kit laid open.

She was quick to get to you. Ignoring your weak attempts to push her away. She had her own experience on bandaging up wounds. Being forced to marry a mafia boss, she had also been forced to help his friends when they were wounded.

Cleaning you up was slow, you had needed stitches on many of the deep cuts. "No, I'll heal. Just takes time." Your voice had sounded raspy, it was the first thing you've said to her since she's got here.

Her hands hovered over the deepest wound of them all the needle only inches away. "Are you current?"

A low groan escaped your lips, "yes, can you just cover it with a bandage." She did as you asked once she was completely finished she moved to help you up. Careful not to touch any of your wounds. She lead you back to your bed, helping you lay down.

"He was wrong, Y/n." She whispered. She knew you wouldn't believe her. But she had to try and she will continue to tell you till you believed her. "Aunt May wouldn't have left you if she was giving the choice. You know that. Same with Uncle Ben."

You felt your eyes fill with tears at the mention of aunt May. "I had the cure, the cure to fix her. But if she had taken it, there would have been more deaths. I was going to give it to her." You squeezed your eyes tight remembering clearly how weak your aunt had gotten. She had gotten weak so fast. "She didn't let me. Refused the cure. I let her die. It was my fault, she-Wouldn't want you to blame yourself. It wasn't your fault Y/n."

Her fingers gently ran through your hair. Something she had always done to help you center yourself. Feeling the moment your shoulders dropped as you silently cried. "I'll keep telling you till you accept it. I'm not leaving your side Y/n, no matter how hard you true to push me away. I'm here to stay."

Fear gripped your heart like never before. The fear of something happening to Alcina or her daughters. The guilt would be too much, it would-"Stop. I can take care of myself. I can hold my own."

She saw the conflict in your eyes. She couldn't imagine how lonely you had been, how you refused to let anyone in. In fear of being held responsible for the harm one might go through. In fear of the guilt growing.

"I'm not leaving your side, that's a promise."

When you woke the next morning, it the ache and soreness in your muscles had doubled before they could lower. It was a pain you were used to. The room was empty but you could faintly hear noises down stairs. The memory of alcina being in your house was pushed to the front of your mind.

Her promise to never leave your side.

Getting up from your bed had been bit of a struggle. Your bathroom had been cleaned the bandages. The blood that once stained the tiles cleaned, the bathroom no longer looking like their had been a small blood bath. You made slow work in freshening up. You felt your body releasing its tension as you showered.

The healing process was always different, after long fights especially a fight with a bad guy with enhanced suits or sometimes powers. Healing always last up to a day. Most of the scratches you had healed but deeper wounds were still there and painful. Bruises were slowly fading.

Stepping out of your bathroom into your room once clothes in loose t shirt and a pair of shorts. To see Alcina coming into the same room with a tray of food.

"Oh you're awake. You should have let me help you." Alcina had gotten up early to cook you some food, you had been deeply asleep. Your wounds had slowly healed. She had been amazed how your smaller not so deep cuts had already healed. The bruises had slowly faded. But the more severe wounds had seemed to take a bit longer.

With Alcina quick to your side, you had let her help you. Leading you down to the kitchen. "You didn't have to stay Alcina. You have bigger responsibilities n—Stop. My mother is taking care of my little girls. I'm where I'm supposed to be."

Alcina had a lot to prove. Prove to you that she wouldn't leave your side. That no matter what happened, her place was to be by your side.

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #re8 alcina #alcina x female reader #resident evil alcina #fem!reader

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cosmic-ghost-hermit · 8 months ago

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Pick a Card: Message from your Inner-Child

Your inner baby needs you to listen. This reading will help them speak their mind clearly. Will you hear them out? Take what resonates and let go of all the rest but be willing to accept new experiences.

☀️Donate to my CashApp🌙

(fund my inner child's joy)

Feel free to drop any reading suggestions in my inbox. I'll keep them in mind when divining the wisdom that needs delivered to y'all's lil ears. Thank you in advance for all your help and support!

Decks used are The Kawaii Tarot, Pure Magic Oracle, Romantic Lenormand and The Karma Cards.

_____________________________________________________________

PILE ONE

Astrology: Capricorn, Aquarius, Libra

Song: Pantsuit Sasquatch by Molly Lewis

Vibes: Green, red, night sky, thorns, bouquet, red flowers, chess, star gazing, alligator, aroma therapy, herbal remedies, apothecary, rabbits, snake skin, olive branch, Zues, Demeter

Cards: 6 of Swords, Saturn, Tower, Lilies, Herbal Craft, Hallowed Heart

Hello, pile 1. Your inner child is really tired of having to be the adult for people who are older than them. They are tired of playing mentor for those who should be mentoring. They want to be done with those people. They are holding up a building with their tiny arms and their shaking frame. As if someone put the world on their shoulders and asked them to carry it with bones that were not developed enough to hold it and without the mental fortitude to withstand the pressure. They wish to rest. They wish to lash out at the adults who relied on them before they were ready or willing. I see your inner child resembles Alice in Wonderland. After the wicked adults in your inner child's life grew white flowers, they demanded it was your fault and made you paint the white roses, red. They took their purity. They hurt you a lot.

The main message I am hearing from them is, "Please be gentle with my little heart and my small frame. I was treated harshly purely for being alive. I need healing. I need time to rest and recuperate. Please do not yell at me for my mistakes. Please do not hurt me for my shortcomings. I did not ask to be here. I only wish for it to get better than it is now. I'm sorry I wasn't mature. I'm sorry I've been impatient but I have been patient for so long. I've spent so much time waiting for my caretakers to do their jobs. Please. I don't need structure. I need relief."

They do not hold you accountable for everything that happened to you, my dear. They are reaching their little hands out for you to help them up. They want to be more present in your life. They want to have fun again. They didn't have enough of it as a child. They want to play outside. The last message I'll leave you with is some advice I find very important.

"Play is the psychological opposite of Trauma."

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PILE TWO

Astrology: Scorpio, Gemini, Cancer (maybe libra)

Song: Burn Your Village by Kiki Rockwell

Vibes: Grey, pink, purple, corvids, pinecones, sage, lavender plant, grizzly bear, spider, scorpio, eagle, hummingbird, long hair, video games, D&D, law, Zephyr, Eurus, Callisto, Artemis, Hecate

Cards: Justice, Clouds, Bear, Hecate's Path, Songbirds, 8th House

Hi, pile 2. Your inner child is full of vengeance. I see that without the vengeful energy they are very respectful and kind. Their anger is extremely understandable and a reaction induced by the environment they grew up in. Your inner child has an intense sense of justice. They know they have been treated unjustly by the authority in their life. Those in control of their circumstance took their autonomy and right of trial. The authorities judged you harshly for no good reason and were unpredictable. The authority would explode at random instances making them hard to anticipate. They were dangerous. Purely because they wanted to make your life miserable to cope with their own miserable life. Your inner child did not deserve that. Your inner innocence was corrupted into a furious and resentful person. They are aware they deserved better. They were conscious of their mistreatment. I see they could have been mistreated because of their race or gender.

The message I am hearing the loudest from your inner child is, "Those filthy horrid people deserve to atone for their wrong doings. No one helped me. They didn't even listen. They took that authorities word for truth and no one heard my side of the story. I am not a liar. I am not guilty. I did nothing wrong and now my older self doesn't even believe me either. The people who did this to me will pay. They will face justice if I have to be the one to dish it out. I hate them. I hate what they turned me into. I was pure. I was innocent. Now look at what they have made me. This isn't fair. This isn't right! Why was I treated this way!? Why does no one believe me?! I will never abuse power like that person did. I will end this cycle of abuse. I release and remove everyone who blamed me without learning the whole story. I am letting go of the pain they put me through. They do not deserve me or my kindness. They only deserve my hatred and resentment. I hope they burn."

Your inner child begs you to protect them from the people who did this to you. I can feel they are still in your life. It might be a father or a brother or an uncle. I also see it could be a pastor. Your inner baby will continue to lash out at random times because they have no where to aim all this negative emotion. They want to be free of guilt that shouldn't be theirs. They want to be free of judgmental eyes. Free them from the illusion that this authority laid over everyones eyes. I leave you with one last message.

"The weakest link will target the strongest link to avoid that they're useless."

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PILE THREE

Astrology: Virgo, Leo, Sagittarius

Song: Heart of a Dancer by The Happy Fits

Vibes: Blue, pink, forest green, androgenous, duality, 2b hair texture, robins, blue jays, coffee mugs, sculpting, yin/yang, balance, rose quartz, pearl, magnolia tree, gardening, bonfire, 3rd eye, Aphrodite, Hermaphroditus, archangel Samuel, Lucifer Morningstar, Baphomet

Cards: 8 of Cups, Birds, Woman, Pyro-kinesis, Closing Circle, Virgo, 7th House, North Node

Hey there, pile 3. I feel many complex emotions from your inner child. I see how they were conditioned is much different than how they genuinely are. They were conditioned to be quiet, serene and passive. But when they are acting genuine it is exact opposite. They are loud, angry and active. There is a need to walk away from their conditioning and those who conditioned them. They don't know how to ask that of you because of how they were taught. They do not speak unless spoken too and this makes it difficult for them to communicate with you. They are anxious they will be punished if they ask for anything of you. Invite them forward and allow them to speak their mind. They hold back a lot of emotion that needs to be expressed. You need to be open to hearing what they have to say.

The important message I need to tell you from them is, "You will benefit from our collaboration. I'm sorry for speaking up but you are not following your heart anymore. You are following what you have been told. This is not authenticity that you display. It is fake. Even if it is well-meaning you are not yourself. You are pretending to be someone else. Please let me express my rage. Please let me express my heart. I can't hold it anymore. I don't wanna feel this way anymore. Let me chatter and chirp and yell and scream. I wasn't allowed to when I was young. I need the freedom to do so now. Allow me to open doors I was never allowed to enter. Please see me in my full complexity. I am more than just a pretty face. I am more than my body. I am a person. I have personality. I have beliefs. I am a benefit to society when I can speak. I am not a waste. I am good as I am. I don't need to bottle my true self to make others comfortable. Free me, please."

They are asking you to allow yourself and your inner child to be themselves. They deserve space to exist freely without having to hide themselves away. I honestly don't need to say much more but I will leave you with one more piece of advice.

"Authenticity is the most powerful way to exist."

___________

PILE FOUR

Astrology: Taurus, Aries, Pisces (maybe aquarius)

Song: If My Heart Was a House by Owl City

Vibes: Muted colors, yellow, orange, fairies, sunflowers, barn owl, cat mint, raptors, vase, eyes, beards, lotus, candles, chimneys, diamond, playing cards, hobbits, anime, Apollo, Athena, Aphrodite

Cards: King of Pentacles, Sun, Owls, Ancestors, Gnomes, Aquarius, Venus

Hello and welcome, pile 4. Your inner child is asking me to tell you that you won't find the love you are looking for in other people. You won't find it in romance. You won't find it in friendship. At least not until you can find it in them. They didn't have the luxury of building their life on an identity that was theirs. They don't even know who they are. You need to explore them. Discover yourself in them. Be friends with them. They long for connection and the only one who can give that to them is you. They spent their whole life just trying to survive that they found identity in the pain they experienced. There is so much more to them than victimhood. So much more than their trauma. They are bright as the sun and immensely smart. They are funny and creative. Let yourself and your inner child grow beyond your collective pain and become something more. Your family isn't the pinnacle of humanity. I have a feeling that your family might have a narcissist among them. They are only a facet of humanity, my friend. There is so much more to your life than being approved by others. You are made of magic. You need to see that.

The message I hear from your inner child is, "I'm done striving for love from people who never intend on giving it to me no matter how perfectly I perform. I'm tired chasing something I'm never going to catch up too. I've always known I'm better than that. They made me feel so small though. They made me feel so pointless and useless. I worked so hard for their love but they will only ever love themselves. They will never have enough room in their heart for me. They make me feel like I'm not enough. I want to give myself the love they never could afford for me. I want to be loved so much. I want to be held and cherished the way I deserve to be. I am enough even if they say I'm not. I've always been enough even though I'm small. They are a giant black hole of emptiness and nothing. They are jealous of my light. I wish my older self could see that. I'm not selfish for wanting to be loved. I'm not wrong for wanting to be adored. I'm worth the effort. Please, see that it's true. I want to be known for who I am. I want to be discovered. I wish so deeply to be seen and appreciated. I'm the only one who can do it."

Your inner child is asking something of you. They ask you to take the role of mother and father for yourself. A role that was never filled even if you had your parents in your life. They neglected you. So much so you felt like you didn't deserve love but you desperately craved it. My dear, I will leave you with one last message and then the rest is up to you.

"You are worthy of being loved by you."

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sealedterror · 9 months ago

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Stellaron Hunters and Astral Express Parallels

So, I've noticed that the Stellaron Hunters are basically a darker, murdery, and morally grey parallel version of the more heroic Astral Express, with every member mirroring another from the other group. Two sides of the same coin, if you will. First thing I'd like to point out, both factions don't really follow any current aeon. They "follow" (very loose term here) the missing-in action Akivili and the "Destiny" that Elio forsees. Both factions also are deeply involved with Stellarons(we encounter a stellaron on every planet, the Stellaron Hunters hunt them. Obviously) Here's some similarities I've thought of between the members and some theories based off each other: !!SPOILERS AHEAD!!

Dan Heng and Blade:

Both from Xianzhou,

Immortal in some way(Blade's self-regenerating and Dan Heng's reincarnations)

Same gender

Dan heng's five star form enhances his basic attack, like Blade, who I BET was ALSO a four star before the mara and Jing Liu incident

Similar age? Don't really know exact timeline between them

Both feature flowers in their gameplay(lotus flowers and spider lilies)

Himeko and Kafka:

Both intelligent women

The pseudo-moms of their faction.

I might be pulling out of my ass here, but I'd like to point out that both of them use both a ranged weapon(Himeko's laser and Kafka's gun) and also a melee weapon(Kafka's katana and Himeko's grator).

Since they are each others parallel, I'd like to make the assumption that since Himeko was the first one to join the Astral Express, that Kafka was the first one to join Elio. It just fits with the known info we have and clears up any ambiguity, but you don't have to strictly adhere by it lol.

Pom Pom and Elio

"Animals" yeah right

The being who leads their group in the direction wanted(conducter, scriptwriter, best destiny, best path to blaze)

You assume they are the cute mascot at first, but then there is something...exceptional about them, that you can't quite pin down.

Both are sentient and can presumably talk(Elio might just write to communicate, how would that work though? Toe beans? Meow to text? Lmao)

Wait....with synestheia beacons that's actually very possible. Oh god

March 7th and Silver Wolf(HEAR ME OUT)

The trendy, youthful girl of the group

....Use of technology?

yeah i got nothing BUTBUTBUT

March 7th's mysterious pasttttt. Like, the similarities between Danheng and Blade weren't revealed until his five star form was revealed and I'm making the theory that when March 7th's mysterious past is revealed, the similarities between her and Silver Wolf will appear!!!!

So Silver Wolf is from Punklord, is extremely accomplished and powerful, chaotic neutral with a sense of wanderlust. I don't know much about her(don't have her character/character story) so I can't say much more, but what I do know seems pretty plausible for March's former self.

It supports my theory that March 7th's five star form will be Nihility. Imbibiter Lunae was Destruction, like Blade. The memokeeper in March's quest said her past would "only bring her pain". How nihilistic is that? Either way, I'm definitely pulling xD

Stelle/Caleus and Firefly/Sam(the best for last ;)

So this is the one that really cemented this theory into my mind. So far, you might have noticed that every member's mirror image is the same gender(with the exception of Catlio and PomPom, I'll talk about it in the comments). But Trailblazer has TWO genders/personas. You know who ALSO has two genders/personas?FIREFLY/SAMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some theory and more similarities between them

They both are the explosive power powerhouse of their group(Stellaron and Sam's firepower)

Both pretty smart(dubious) and funny(hilarious, the both of them)

They both eat questionable things...Trailblazer's trash consumables and Firefly's woodchip Oak Cake(seriously, read the description, do they have iron stomachs or something??)

...So they might have iron stomachs.

Both were presumably artificially made. We know Firefly/Sam is(born to fight in a war) and the Trailblazer is a vessel of a Stellaron. There has to be some funky, wonky, genetic/biological makeup for that.

Welt Yang and no one lmao

Lonely ass old man, no ship?(making the no bitches face)

Anyway, I presume he doesn't have any parallel bc he's from another universe. I don't know much cause I haven't played Honkai Impact. Something about a comic and "herscherr"? Idrk but. I suppose Luocha could join the Stellaron Hunters. That would be crazy as hell and if it happens I CALLED IT, but it probably won't. Probably.

There is also the theory Sunday joined the Stellaron Hunters. It's honestly really interesting and if that's true.....Welt Yang and Sunday don't have any similarities so that's tossed out the window. So, that only leaves the possibilty that we will have a mirrored someone of Sunday joining the Astral Express in the future. That would be INSANE but fun as hell like, can you imagine?

On another, slightly less speculative note, I'd like to point out that the five stars of the Astral Express have the same paths as the Stellaron Hunters. DHIL and Blade, are both Destruction. The Trailblazer started off as Destruction and Firefly/Sam is Destruction. As I theorized above, March 7th's five star form is likely Nihility, just like Silver Wolf. Except for Himeko and Kafka. Hmmmm

It is also my theory that Kafka was supposed to be Erudition, like Himeko, but the Stellaron Disaster on her homeplanet altered her path to Nihility. We know how smart Kafka is and we've seen paths change, Dan Heng changed to Hunt after doing away his vidyadhara features, and we have switched paths multiple times now. But we know we and Dan Heng can switch between paths anytime. I think Kafka's case is different, in that she can't switch and the Stellaron permanently altered her, removing her fear and switching her Path.

So this concludes my rant, are you convinced yet ;)? It's really interesting that the two factions mirror each other so deeply. I am getting the message that, whatever our fates are, they are deeply intertwined.

Thanks a bunch for reading this far and please, let me know what you think! May the Trailblaze be with you....or something lol

Edit: AAAAAA, Firefly's pool cutscene!!! She said, and I quote "The Astral Express and the Stellaron Hunters are like light and shadow. We walk on different paths, intertwined, moving forward and growing together...Maybe the end is predestined, but, it is not today."

Idgaf, I'm taking this as confirmation!! My theories are becoming true!!!!! *high pitched squealing* Show me more, Honkai Star Rail!!!!

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saradika-graphics · 11 months ago

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DIVIDERS MASTERLIST

AESTHETIC - FLORALS & HEARTS

— Bees/Honey/Flowers

— Bugs & Garden | part 2

— Cherry Blossom / Peach

— Cherries

— Cute Flowers

— Dark Romantic Florals | Maroon Recolor

— Daisies

— Fall Florals

— Lavender

— Lilies

— Marigolds

— Pastel Floral

— Pastel Green & Blue Florals / Navy Blue / Black

— Red Poppies

— Red Spider Lily

— Roses/Chains / Gothic Roses

— Sunflowers

— Tulips

— Wildflowers

— Wisteria

AESTHETIC - HEARTS

— Black Hearts

— Blue Gradient Hearts

— Hearts

— Heartbeat Dividers | part ii

— Green Hearts

— Lilac Hearts

— Pastel Blue Hearts

— Pink to Maroon

AESTHETIC - COLORS

— Black and Grey

— Black & Red Grunge

— Blue & Yellow Dividers

— Lavender/Sage/Brown

— Maroon & Purple

— Minimalist Neutrals | Minimalist Green

— Orange & Green Dividers

— Pale Pink Dividers

— Pink & Yellow

— Pink/White/Black

— Purple, Pink & Blue Dividers

— Razzmatazz (Orange/Blue Dividers)

— Red & Yellow Dividers

— Red/Blue/Purple Dividers

— Warm Grey Dividers

AESTHETIC - ANIMALS

— Birds

— Bunnies (Pastel)

— Butterfly (Yellow)

— Cats

— Dinosaurs

— Dog/Puppy

— Dragons | Part ii

— Farm

— Feathers

— Fish

— Jellyfish

— Peacocks

— Starfish

✨(Everything was made using Canva - so check that app out if you’re looking to make your own! Credit is not required but a reblog would be great if you use! 💕) ✨

#masterlist #type: dividers #theme: floral #dividers

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the0p · 22 days ago

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Spider-man Mark

pure fluff, mlm, smoking (dont do it kids), confessions, cursing, Mark mentioned without a shirt (😱), yeah tbh that's it I think ALSO GUYS THE MIDDLE PHOTO IS MADE BY ME DO WE LIKE?!?!? (say yes.)

Making plans with Mark was like trying to make a sloth go faster, basically, impossible. The only time I could get a hold of him is durring school which sucked but tonight after weeks of constant no shows, sorrys and excuses we finally settled on something very simple a sleep over at his place from Saturday morning till Sunday night yes two adults doing a sleepover crazy right? On Friday, I packed the important things such as clothes, pack of cigarettes and a lighter, charger, and a Lego set for us to build together. Mark has been my best friend since forever. he was the first freind I ever made and the person I plan on dying with but a few months ago I started developing feelings for him which I never thought could happen especially since I didn't know if he was even into men which made the situation a whole lot worse but tonight was the night I planned on telling him, or, well, that was what I kept telling myself.

I didn't bother dressing up as it was just a sleepover, so I left my apartment in grey sweatpants, a black zip-up jacket, and instead of contacts, I sticked with my glasses. Mark didn't live far, so I chose to walk instead of driving. I wish I could say to enjoy the night air but it was too cold tonight for something like that. by the time I made it to his, I was freezing my ass off. I knocked on his door like a crazy person waiting for him to get it only to be met with complete silence. I knew where he kept the spear key, so I took it and unlocked the door, figuring he had just knocked out, but once I unlocked the door, I was met with...complete emptiness. "Mark??" I called taking my shoes off as I slowly walked inside, turning the lights on and placing my bag on the kitchen counter, his sofa empty. I walked over to his room, knocking on the door "dude are you in here??" I asked, opening the door carefully only to be met with a very messy room and no Mark inside it. I stood there very confused and a bit hurt as he said he'd be free tonight. I walked into his room, moving some clothes off the bed and sitting down on it, taking my phone out of my pocket to call him. the phone rang once, twice, and by the third call, I gave up. I sat there very disappointed. what could I even do in this type of situation?? I was already inside, and I didn't exactly wanna go home, so I chose to stay and scroll through my phone instead with the hopes he'd show up.

an hour had passed by, and there was no response. I felt shit but in all honesty, I didn't know what I expected. I got up from his bed, going back into the kitchen and taking my bag, walking into the living room, sitting my ass down on the floor, and pulling out the Lego set. it wasn't anything fancy, just a few Lego flowers, so since he was late, I chose to build it to pass the time. I turned on some music and started building. Time passed by quickly, and as I was halfway done, I heard a loud thud and a string of curse words coming out of Marks' room. I was very confused and even a bit scared as he lived on the fourth floor, and no one could just randomly spawn in like that. I slowly got up, taking the first thing that I could grab, which was sadly an apple. fuck Mark and his healthy food. I slowly approached the door, my heart pounding out of my chest. I placed my free hand on the door handle, my other hand, ready to throw the apple at whoever or whatever was in that room. I opened the door quietly, peeking my head in. the room was dark, so I couldn't see well, which made it so much worse. I opened the door fully, looking around the room as I reached for the light switch, turning on the light. there was nothing. "am I crazy or what??" I said outloud to myself, running a hand through my hair a frown on my face. I groaned in frustration, which quickly faded when I heard a thud from the corner of the room above me. I turned around, chucking the apple at the corner only to see...Mark with a spider-man suite?? I stood there trying to process it as he quickly got off the ceiling rubbing his head as I seemed to have good aim. he looked at me both of us, just starting at each other for a good 2 minutes. "How long are we going to do this for??" he asked, braking the silence and awkward smile on his face. "For as long as I need to process... this" I said, gesturing to him. "look dude I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier its just like super dangerous and everything and I know you worry a lot as it is so I didn't wanna add on stress to it" he rambled trying to explain himself.

I sat down on his bed again, leaning back on my hands as I continued to look at him, all the gears turning in my head. "You know, now all the dipping you do has an explanation" he sighed, nodding, pressing the spider-man logo on his suite, causing it to loosen as he shrugged it off. thankfully he wasn't fully naked under there but fuck was his build good. if my math isn't off a six-pack at least, toned arms and everything. it wasn't my first time seeing him without a shirt on as we both had a tendency to wall around each others apartments without shirts, but I don't remember him being that built. he quickly trew on a shirt and pants nicely folding his suite and placing it in a box as he came to sit next to obviously very ready to be yelled at. "I better get to swing with you between buildings." he turned to me, surprised not to hear cursing upon cursing as I usually scolded him. "wait your not mad??" he asked, tilting his head a bit to the side. I shook my head no "not really. I get why you didn't tell me. I wouldn't tell you if I'd be in your shoes, so we're cool. " i smiled at him genuinely, not minding as everything had an explanation now. "When you randomly started cancelling plans and dipping on me, I thought you hated me or something. felt like a desperate ex trying to get you to come back to me" he laughed poking my shoulder a playful smirk on his face "ooooo did someone miss me??" I pushed him away, trying to suppress a smile that was creeping up on my face "ew no get away, you wierdo" he shook his head pretending to be upset but thankfully the act didn't last long as he got up and took my arm pulling me to the kitchen with him. he placed me infront of the stove putting his hands on my shoulders "stay there" he said opening the fridge and taking out some food placing ir on the counter next to me. Once he got everything out he looked at me "your making food tonight" I reluctantly nodded and just got to work not wanting to argue. he smiled a pleased look on his face as he went into the living room noticing the flowers I had started. "dude are those lego flowers!? sick!!" I heard him say as I glanced over watching as he sat down to continue them. I didn't protest as it was smth for us both to do originally. Once I finished the food, I plated it, bringing it over to the living room, placing both the plates on the coffee table where now sat two pretty roses. I sat down on the sofa next to him, taking my plate and turning on the TV. "What movie marathon tonight?" I questioned, glancing at him."Let's go with twilight" I rolled my eyes as that was always his pick but, nonetheless, put it on.

the two days were spent together laughing, talking, smoking, a lot of movies and the occasional moments he had to go save the city as usual but otherwise it was very pleasant. on Sunday night, we sat in his bed, cuddling scrolling through my tiktok feed, laughing at random videos. I still hadn't confessed, but I did learn that he did, in fact, like guys, so my chances were a bit higher now. "Hey Mark??" My words came out relatively quiet as I turned my phone off, sitting up as I looked down at him. he hummed, staying in the same position, looking up at me with his stupid pretty face. I took a deep breath trying to gather my thoughts "I gotta tell you something very important" I said slowly my words catching his attention as he sat up as well looking at me "what is it??" he looked into my eyes, both of us just starting at each other as I stayed quiet. "I like you. not in a plotonic way, but I like like you. its cool if you don't feel the same way I just wanted to let you know and I really hope this doesn't fuck up our friendship if you don't return those feelings I just-" my words where cut off short with a pair of lips meeting mine. I was stunned at first my eyes wide, but slowly, I melted into the kiss, returning it. he pulled away first his face extremely close to mine "you ramble too much" his words where soft and the smile on his face said it all "and I hope I gave you the answer you where looking for but if you need it word by word, I like you too y/n a lot actually. I've always had interest in girls, but the moment I became spider-man, our time was limited by a lot, and the way you tried so hard made me fall head over heals for you, dude." I felt a bit embarrassed but extremely happy.

"so...boyfriends??" I asked looking into his eyes.

"boyfriends."

#gay #mark lee #spiderman #nct dream #nct 127 #nct x reader #nct x male reader #mlm #boy group #kpop bg #kpop #fluff #male x male #mark lee x male reader #nct #lgbtq

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