#how it relates to his relationship with the force (and the order and how his perception on both might've shifted or stayed the same)

[wreckedhoney]

time travel au but specifically with the flavor of post-66 longtime fugitive obi-wan having little to no sense of self importance next to the grand scheme of things. coming across a power that allows him to choose one (or three?) points in the past where he can temporarily possess his past self and alter events, and one of the first things he thinks of doing is sacrificing himself to save qui-gon, because maybe he'd be the better, wiser, more experienced master; maybe he can catch and handle everything obi-wan couldn't.

except young obi-wan is healed with older-wan still in his body, vader following him through time and ensuring that events go as they did originally - before they're both thrust out of this time, obi-wan failing and lost as to why vader wouldn't at least give himself the decent chance to avoid being maimed at mustafar, and vader ensuring that obi-wan will live to be with anakin.

BONUS! AGAIN! for the three points option! obi-wan is torn between speaking personally with anakin, younger and oblivious to obi-wan taking over his younger self as a general, or to head straight for the council. when he comes to this point in time, however, it's like he has no choice. as soon as anakin approaches him, he has to speak with him, but it comes across harried and panicked (he has too little time). he tries to fly through everything, from anakin's freedom to leave the order if he wishes, to their friendship, attachments, to the influence of the chancellor (and obi-wan has to be so, so careful here). he needs to rush past, to find someone else he can speak more freely with, but anakin stops him, alarmed and concerned, and more so when obi-wan is flown a few feet away from him. vader looms a short distance away, unaggressive but halting obi-wan's efforts nonetheless, until they again run out of time.

obi-wan staggers out of mustafar, dragging two injured with him. padmé's last moments are just as agonizing, and anakin/vader's injuries are as well, but obi-wan flies them to a medical facility as fast as he can. he doesn't have just a time limit now; anakin/vader's wounds will be fatal if not mended fast enough, never mind that already he's in better shape than in the original timeline since obi-wan lifted him out quicker. he's also expecting vader - his vader - any moment, but oddly, that future version of him does not make an appearance this time. obi-wan takes another look at the unconscious sith with him, wondering if this self will kill him once he leaves this body. his intervention continues uninterrupted.

that unsettles him, and he opens his eyes to witness what kind of change just that altered decision, perhaps his largest risk of his three chances, had on the future point he originated from, the one he will now have to live in. for the first short moment, there is only the sensation akin to waking up from a deep sleep. and then, the memories flood in, many old and familiar - until others flow alongside them now, new.

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone).

───────────────

There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[pubbamoon]

Your Ideal Partner In Your Destiny Matrix Chart

Hi! I haven't been there for a while, 'cause I needed some sort of a break. Thanks for your understanding in advance. We can go further with spiritual content now. This time, I'm going to make a post about how and where you can look for your ideal partner in your Destiny Matrix chart. If you're single and do not exactly know which type of partner is the right one for you, I hope that this post might help you in any way, shape or form. But as always, take things as they resonate with you, do not force anything if it doesn't fully align with you. So, without a further delay, let's get into it.

If you did read my first post (the intro) about the Matrix of Destiny, you might know that there is a love line which is formed by three numbers and it talks about our relationships style, its struggles, partner etc. The second number in this love line is a number which is placed the closest to the heart icon/emoji, represents our ideal partner and the characteristics of our partner.

Here is the example of that. I marked the adequate number with the black color, so you can see it clearly. This is my Destiny Matrix chart and the number I have close to the heart icon/emoji is number 7, so my partner could have characteristics of this number and arcana, which is The Chariot in this case. I hope it's understandable.

I'm going to describe each numbers and possible characteristics of your partner now.

1 (The Magician) - If you have number 1 close to the heart icon/emoji, then it means that your partner may have natural leaderships qualities. Your partner might be confident, independent and even powerful. He or she might also inspire you to live your own life however you want and will definitely give you freedom. With The Magician card being present here, you can basically manifest any partner you want, 'cause this card is about manifestations.

2 (The High Priestess) - This partner may likely be an emotional and empathetic type of person. You might seek for a partner who can take care of your and who wants to build a family with you, since number 2 is ruled by the Moon, which does represent family. Your partner might be in tune with the feminine side, no matter if this person is male of female.

3 (The Empress) - Your partner might be very beautiful and good-looking, even wealthy. This partner may also be creative and interested in artistic fields. You can experience a lot of joyful moments and you can have fun a lot with your partner in general. You may find comfort, pleasure and even luxury in your relationships.

4 (The Emperor) - There is a strong masculine energy in this arcana. Your partner could be a natural leader and logical, which are the characteristics of a divine masculine energy. I wouldn't be surprised if you married some kind of a CEO or a manager with this arcana. This partner might also be controlling, so be aware of that.

5 (The Hierophant) - Another arcana which radiates some kind of masculine energy. This arcana is mostly about traditions, conformity and religion, so your partner might have a traditional and religious beliefs and might be someone who likes the order. Number 5 is associated with communication, which means that your partner might be communicative and adventurous, obviously.

6 (The Lovers) - This arcana is basically about relationships and love, so having this arcana in your love line could be a jackpot for you, but take it as it resonates, please. Your partner may give you emotional support and may buy you a lot of expansive things to impress you. The communication with your partner might be on point, unless your partner is negative and judgmental.

7 (The Chariot) - Your partner is likely to be strong-willed, ambitious and disciplined with an active lifestyle. There is also a spiritual side of your partner, since number 7 represents spirituality. The Chariot card is related to Cancer sign, so you can have a family with your partner. This also tells me that your partner should have a balance between spiritual and material world.

8 (Justice) - Your partner might be a balanced, organized and responsible individual, 'cause number 8 is ruled by Saturn. He or she could be a lawyer too. Your relationships may be dealt with a lot of conflict, aggression or you may simply deal with karmic relationships. You might need a partner who can calm things down and put things together.

9 (The Hermit) - This arcana is all about solitude, introspection and reflection and it might be hard to have this arcana in your love line. If you struggle with your relationships or you constantly feel lonely, know that it's quite normal with this arcana. Your ideal partner might be someone who is wise, mature, compassionate, empathetic and who can guide you through spiritual world. It can also indicate starting relationships later in life.

10 (Wheel of Fortune) - This position might be very lucky in terms of your relationships. You can basically hang out with almost everyone, but don't always rely on luck when it comes to your relationships. Meeting your ideal partner might seem like some fated event you cannot control. Your relationships may also seem like cycles and if your relationship is negative or toxic, that cycle needs to be ended.

11 (Strength) - Your partner might be strong, courageous, energetic and optimistic, according to the Strength card. Number 11 is a very spiritual number and is associated with intuition. It takes courage and accountability to follow intuition. I sense that you might need a partner that you can count on. Watch our for an aggressive nature of your partner.

12 (The Hanged Man) - This tells me that your partner could be caring, creative, smart, even selfless. You might need the type of partner who will take care of you, support you, sacrifice for you and who'll give you different perspective of life. Be careful not to be too attached to your partner and to make some boundaries in your relationships.

13 (Death) - Your relationships might be transformative period of your life where you can shift your mentality and a view of your whole life. Your partner might come across as mysterious, unpredictable or even shady. This person could also be adaptable into almost every situation. Make sure to hang out with people you can change and progress with.

14 (Temperance) - Your partner might be balanced, emotional and mature. This can be an indicator of a normal and moderate kind of relationships. Sometimes you should be patient for your partner to come in. This partner might have an artistic or healing abilities and can inspire or help you to see the bright side of life.

15 (The Devil) - This arcana can indicate having a toxic relationships and being with over materialistic partner. Your partner might be someone who embraces his or her dark side. You can date someone who deals with addictions, who is charismatic, energetic and passionate. There can be a strong bondage between you and your partner as well.

16 (The Tower) - Your partner and overall relationships might be so chaotic that you can experience whether mental breakdown or spiritual awakening. This number/arcana represents an intense partner who may go into the extremes (violence, aggression, attachments) or a spiritual and intelligent partner who may lead you into the spiritual growth.

17 (The Star) - After previous arcana, where everything falls apart, then comes a healing journey, according to The Star card. You might experience more positive things with your partner or in overall relationships. Your partner is likely charming, sensitive or even popular person everyone knows about. You can share some unique moments with your partner.

18 (The Moon) - You may date someone who is deeply imaginative, mysterious and intuitive. This arcana represents illusions, which means that your partner might be in his or her own world a lot or you can fantasize about your relationships a lot. Your partner might also be creative and artistic, which relates to this arcana.

19 (The Sun) - I feel that you need a partner who will give you joy and positivity into your life. Your relationships could be filled with optimism and celebration, meaning that you may go to the parties with your partner a lot. There's a chance for you to have a happy and fulfilled relationships and you can benefit from your relationships, but it can indicate being depressive after breaking up.

20 (Judgment) - This arcana relates to the family and ancestors, so you may need a type of partner who wants to build a family with you. Your partner might be spiritual, intuitive, mystical who may guide you to live your life differently, but this partner could also be very judgmental to you. It can indicate being in the karmic relationships.

21 (The World) - Your partner might be an open-minded individual who has a natural diplomatic abilities and who can hang out with people easily. This arcana may indicate having a partner from abroad or from a more different culture than yours. You could meet your partner in your work environment, but it doesn't mean that will be the case of everyone.

22 (The Fool) - I sense that your partner might be spontaneous, adventurous, explorative and free-spirited. You could experience really fun and unpredictable moments with your partner. Your relationships might seem like an adventure, basically. The problem is that this could lead into disorganization and irresponsibility into your life, especially if you're someone who needs some kind of a structure in your own life.

Okay, I think that would be all for today. I hope you enjoyed it and learned something new. For me, it was great to come back after not posting anything for a week. Comment what you want to see next on my astrology blog if you want to. I wish you all had a beautiful day ahead. See you!

Best regards,

Paky McGee

[mxrcurysb1tch]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Astrology 🐉observations pt. IV ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

: ̗̀➛ Gemini moons are super intelligent and generally study maths or engineering. They’re also super good at getting stuff done even though they never seem to ever be actually working? It’s like a talent.

: ̗̀➛ Ever wonder how someone can think a certain way and yet speak in a totally different way? They likely have their moon and mercury in completely different signs. For example, I’m a Capricorn moon with a Leo Mercury and while I am generally very hard on myself and sometimes pessimistic, it sometimes comes out as me appearing overly confident or self obsessed even though I feel anything but that. Another example is, a Gemini moon I know, he is always overthinking in his mind, feels anxious or flighty but his speech is very calm and levelled, since he is a Capricorn Mercury. This can sometimes lead to frustration especially if Mercury is debilitated or retrograde. People with complimentary or the same moon and mercury sign might have a more congruent way of expressing themselves and because they are sure of their convictions, many people may listen to them and respect them.

: ̗̀➛ Mars and Mercury conjunctions make someone very good at insults or even verbal aggression, depending on the sign/house and other placements. Their humour is likely to be playfully making fun of people or even themselves. They may be witty with it too. When it comes to arguments they always know exactly what to say to win.

: ̗̀➛ Virgo placements especially rising, sun and mars have a tendency to be very connected to their bodies, and even hyper aware of the processes going on inside them. They’re not usually the types to forget to eat or rest. Not because they know better (but let’s face it they usually do) but simply because they feel their internal sensations so strongly. It can also sometimes develop into psycho-somatic conditions or health anxiety if it is too pronounced.

: ̗̀➛ Having multiple detriment placements (especially if you also have no domiciles and if Saturn is involved) can make the native feel like they have to work super hard at everything they do and like nothing comes naturally to them. They might feel like they aren’t talented or gifted in any way or that they weren’t blessed in life like other people are. This usually isn’t true though, what these natives need is a bit of self belief and self love.

: ̗̀➛ Meeting someone with the same moon sign as you is an elite experience. You might just feel connected to them in some way and just intuitively understand each other. Of course it will depend on their other placements too, but usually you guys will feel like you just “get each other” This is because you won’t have to explain to them why you feel a certain way or modify your expression in order to relate to them on a deeper level. My childhood best friend has the same moon sign as me and I have always felt like we are platonic soulmates.

: ̗̀➛ Whichever house you have Scorpio in can show where/what in your life you are most secretive about. For example, if you have Scorpio in your 2nd house you might be very secretive about your money, home or possessions. You might not want people to know how you earn money/how much you earn or you might not like having people come over to your house. If you have Scorpio in the 7th house you might be secretive about your relationships, you might engage in a lot of clandestine flings or affairs.

: ̗̀➛ People with the same sun as their rising feel so warm and genuine, what you see is what you get. They’re usually super confident in their own skin. They can’t help but be transparent and bare their souls to you. The degree to which will depend on the sign, of course. However, People with the same moon as their rising might feel overexposed and vulnerable. They usually have a more quiet presence, or always look like they’re sad or far away. They’re usually lost in thought or emotion though as they can’t help but be forced to examine their inner world in excruciating details.

[stellarsecrets86]

Sun In Signs Of Groom Persona Chart

Other posts you might like:

Masterlist

[PS: These are my own observations. For entertainment purposes only. Have fun.💚]

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

(Sun in a groom persona chart represents his core identity, ego, and how he presents himself as a husband. It is symbolic of his willpower, leadership qualities, self-expression, and the life force that he brings into the marital relationship. The position of the Sun in the signs shows what kind of energy he carries, how he would handle responsibilities, and what role he would play in the union.)

Sun in Aries

In the groom pc, having Sun in Aries attracts bold, energetic, and passionate spouse. Most likely, he would be the head or the dominant in the relation. It makes him very adventurous, enthusiastic to try everything new in this marriage, but his individuality could overpower him and cause impatience or dominance. He is the protector of his woman, even taking on the role of "hero" when it comes to his girlfriend or wife. He is independent and may require a partner who can appreciate their energetic vibes while maintaining emotional equilibrium. His leadership can be inspiring, yet it should also be modulated to include his partner's needs.

{Spouse likely has a sharp, angular face with prominent features and a high forehead, exuding confidence and energy.}

Sun in Taurus

The Sun in Taurus makes the groom a practical and reliable person as he values stability. He feels good if his environment is comfortable and secure, and he works hard to make his partner feel valued. Taurus Suns are sensual and base a lot of their marital satisfaction on physical connection and comfort. They can be resistant to change and love routine and tradition. They are loyal partners but at times can be possessive. The beauty, luxury, and finer things in life are truly appreciated by this groom, and he often strives to create a beautiful home.

{Spouse may have a round or oval face with soft, symmetrical features and a pleasant, earthy charm.}

Sun in Gemini

He is curious, communicative, and versatile. He brings intellectual excitement and humor into the relationship, never a dull moment. Versatile and sociable, he likes to share ideas and enjoy lively discussions with his mate. His restless nature may at times make him appear inconsistent, absent-minded, and so on. He needs a partner who can appreciate his lively mind and understand his varied interests. This groom does well in relationships with good lines of communication and shared curiosity.

{The spouse could have a narrow, oval face with expressive eyes and lively, youthful features.}

Sun in Cancer

He is deeply nurturing, empathetic, and protective. He values emotional connection and creates a sense of home and family in the marriage. His intuitive nature makes him highly attuned to his partner's needs, often going out of his way to provide comfort. At times, he may struggle with moodiness or clinginess. A Cancer Sun groom needs a partner who understands his sensitivity and shares his desire for a close-knit family life.

{A moon-like, round or soft face with gentle, nurturing expressions is typical for the spouse.}

Sun in Leo

He is charismatic, warm-hearted, and proud. He looks at marriage as a stage on which to shine and generally assumes a leadership role in the relationship. Generous and loyal, he loves showering his partner with affection and admiration and expects admiration in return. While his confidence can be inspiring, he may at times come off as self-centered. This groom does best when his partner supports his ambitions and shares his enthusiasm for life.

{The spouse often has a regal, well-defined face with strong bone structure and a radiant, magnetic presence.}

Sun in Virgo

Husband is practical, detail-oriented, and committed to his self-improvement project. He brings stability and dependability into the relationship, many times going out of his way in order to solve problems and make good order. He loves his partner who shares an appreciation for organization and hard work. Sometimes, he could make his partner's life hard through being too critical or perfectionist, which might be a tense source in their relationship. When a Virgo Sun husband is appreciated for his work, he thrives.

{Spouse may possess a delicate, heart-shaped face with fine, symmetrical features and a refined appearance.}

Sun in Libra

Husband is charming, tactful, and loves to establish a marriage that is just harmonious. He prefers justice and desires a balanced partnership wherein both parties are equal. His love for aesthetics and romance alone can create a beautiful and loving environment for his spouse. Nevertheless, his need to evade conflicts may at times elicit indecision or repression of his own needs. A Libra Sun husband thrives well in a relationship where mutual respect and collaboration are established.

{The spouse likely has an oval or symmetrical face with balanced, harmonious features and an attractive, graceful demeanor.}

Sun in Scorpio

Husband of a Scorpio Sun in the groom pc will be an experience of depth, passion, and an almost irreversible commitment. Pressing into intense intimacy, or a probe into the depths of life, are the ways he might pursue his partner. He desires transformation for himself and from his partner. This could mean he sometimes can become possessive or controlling. A Scorpio Sun needs trust, honesty, and emotional toughness from his wife to have a successful marriage.

{Spouse may have a square or intense face with piercing eyes, strong jawlines, and an enigmatic aura.}

Sun in Sagittarius

The Sagittarius Sun in groom pc husband is free-spirited, optimistic, and adventurous. He has fun in the relationship and gives his partner an urge for new experiences. Freedom is important to him, and he needs a partner who will respect his need for freedom. While his enthusiasm is contagious, his lack of focus or commitment to some routines may frustrate the spouse at times. A Sagittarius Sun husband really thrives when his mate loves adventure and personal growth as he does.

{A long, oval face with high cheekbones and a bright, adventurous expression often describes the spouse.}

Sun in Capricorn

Ambitious, responsible, and intent upon building a stable future, the Capricorn Sun groom regards marriage as both an obligation and an opportunity to extend his role of provider and protector. Practical by nature, he works hard to assure a successful long-term partnership, though at times his work or responsibilities may make him appear a little distant or serious. An Capricorn Sun boyfriend thrives in an appreciation of his efforts within a relationship and feels supported on his journey to success.

{The spouse may have a chiseled, rectangular face with defined bone structure and a mature, poised look.}

Sun in Aquarius

The groom with the Sun in Aquarius is a nonconformist who values independence and individuality in his marriage. He brings a unique twist into the relationship and mostly confronts conventional standards. While intellectually and socially attached, he values a partner who sees his vision for progress and change. His detached nature may sometimes make him emotionally unavailable. This groom thrives in relationships where freedom and mutual respect are emphasized.

{Spouse could have a unique or unconventional face shape, often oval, with sharp features and a futuristic vibe.}

Sun in Pisces

The Pisces Sun is the groom pc is compassionate, dreamy, and emotionally intuitive. He marries with the utmost romanticism and idealizes his spouse. His creative and emotional nature makes him a tender and caring partner. Since he can sometimes be very imaginary and flee from strife, he can create misunderstandings. A Pisces Sun feels most happy with a spouse who can share his emotions and creativity.

{A soft, rounded face with dreamy, delicate features and expressive, soulful eyes is common for the spouse.}

[ennn]

Let's appreciate how complex Agatha's relationship with Billy is

GIF credit to @isagrimorie

The genuine emotion brimming from Agatha in this moment is very interesting and I really want to break down all the layers of how Agatha is relating to Billy—because it is truly not as simple as Agatha feeling sentimental or motherly to Billy.

There are a few layers at work here (and I also want to give a shout-out to @trickofthelights for her excellent recap points):

Billy reminds Agatha (enough) of herself

There are two driving forces at the core of Agatha as a character. We know this because her characterisation has been incredibly consistent throughout the show and Schaeffer has talked about them, which is: (a) Agatha is self-serving and (b) Agatha loves powerful witchcraft.

Billy is a powerful witch who did a horrifying thing in order to survive. He's been lying to these wonderful parents. He also just tried murdering three people in a fit of rage, provoked by Agatha no less.

Would Agatha care if he was less powerful? Would Agatha care if he didn't have a dark side? If he hadn't shown to be duplicitous and dangerous and subject to his darker impulses?

If he wasn't alone and without a coven, a possible outcast even among witches because of his unusual origins and power?

I'm pretty sure the answer is no, she would not. She would have dismissed him the same way she did his "Teen" persona. Agatha doesn't care about witches, Agatha cares about powerful witches –because that's who Agatha is and what drives her.

And we also got hints of this with Agatha and Wanda (hello consistent characterisation). In Schaeffer's words:

There is respect and almost affection inherent in [Agatha's interest in enormously powerful witchcraft], as indicated by how she felt about Wanda. She was mean to Wanda, but really she was fascinated by Wanda and admired her and wanted to hang out with her. 

And if this wasn't clear enough, what Agatha tells Billy shortly later about breaking the rules and being a true witch just screams projection (more on that in my next point).

I was delighted that Agatha really did bounce back from the attempted murder – but it's not because she's forgiving. Oh no, I think, Agatha was testing her theory by poking the bear (calculated move, bad at math) and she's glad she was proven right.

I mean, she not happy about the attempted murder but her curiosity wins out. You see her poking at Billy and trying to figure him out in the rest of this scene.

Agatha also hates self-righteous moralising and searches out for the darkness in people – delights in it even – because she knows people and she knows her own darkness.

Billy is different but also not so different from Agatha, as much as Billy or his mom would hate to admit.

Agatha is dealing with her childhood trauma

Yes, Agatha is projecting on Billy, but she makes a choice about it. We hear her telling him what she would have wanted someone to tell her: that they shouldn't be afraid or ashamed of who they are or what they did to survive, that they are part of a community.

Don't you dare feel guilty about your talent. ... That's what kept you alive. That's what makes you special. That's what makes you a witch.

She's trying to be the person she needed when she was a child, because she simply doesn't want someone else – particularly a younger witch – going through what she did.

She doesn't want anyone to go through what her mother put her through. And that's a choice.

Because there are a number of ways a character can deal with trauma: they can lash out and bring others down, wanting others to experience to the pain they went through, or they can realise that what happened to them shouldn't happen to anyone else in their position.

There's something beautifully self-serving but also selfless in that, because this is a way for Agatha to heal from her trauma. She can tell Billy things she may not be able to tell herself.

And it's interesting because as a self-serving villain, Agatha could just be jealous of Billy's power. But in this moment at least, Agatha's empathy and compassion – as buried as they usually are – prevail.

And yes, Agatha was fond of kid Billy

This is what Schaeffer touched on in her interview answer and it makes sense, with the insight that Agatha – like any good actor – does invest a bit of herself in every role she plays.

Agatha does have feelings (as much as they might make her vomit) and I do believe she has a soft spot when it comes to kids, given her experience with her son and her own childhood trauma. And that kids don't have the level of hypocrisy and darkness that adults do.

It makes sense that Agatha would have some level of care about the Scarlet Witch's magical kid Billy. And that is a fondness that has carried onto teenage Billy – who is powerful and a survivor and has a potential for darkness in a way she can relate to.

There are layers and they intersect and it all ties back to how Agatha is incredibly complex and yet consistent as a character.

[eowynstwin]

blackbird, fly - i.

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. . You stand alone on a train platform, whole life in your hands, ready to promise yourself to a man you’ve yet to meet. . ao3

You step off the train carrying every one of your earthly possessions clutched in both hands. In one a carpetbag, only half-full, and in the other, a stack of letters tied together with string. A paltry summary of a very small life, you thought months ago, but today you only see how much room is left over where happiness might take root.

It began with an ad in the paper—Widowed Ranch Owner Seeking Tender Companionship—and a mailing address to a livestock town out in the west. Hans König described himself as Austrian, unusually tall, and fair lonesome in a big ranch house with no woman to make it a home. He’d immigrated to the United States as a child, married very young, had no children, and was forced to watch his first wife perish to consumption.

After two years of mourning, he said in the paper, he finally accepted that she would not want him to live and die alone. And thus, if there were any kind-hearted lady willing to give an old widower a chance, he would promise to take very good care of her.

You’d replied as fast as you could get your hands on paper and pen. The fourth child and only daughter of a tobacco farmer, you hadn’t much else to occupy yourself with. And truly, you hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Proficient in the written word though you were, there was not much else to recommend you. You brought a tiny dowry, skill with a sewing needle, a general knowledge of plants, and mediocre cooking to the bargaining table; he was horse man tried and tested by the challenges of the frontier.

You were under no illusions that you were the most attractive candidate.

Still, you wrote your letter. Described yourself to him as honestly as you could—neither especially pretty nor particularly accomplished, but told by friends and family to be of gentle demeanor and useful intelligence. Forgave him preemptively if he never responded, and wished him the best of luck in his search for a wife.

You’d nearly fainted dead away when his response had arrived as immediately as the next mail wagon. Hans König had addressed you by name, as intimately as if he’d known you for years, and said,

I was very pleased to receive your letter, Miss, and am terribly excited to correspond with you in the future. Although you write that you cannot imagine yourself an appropriate wife for a man of my experience, I myself cannot imagine what more you must need to be such. While I will not do you the discourtesy of making any promises with only my first letter to you, I will tell you truly that I was glad of your introduction, and hope you will grant me the pleasure of knowing you further.

Your whole family had been so excited for his response that Pa had broken out his fiddle after dinner that night, rejoicing already that his little girl’s future was secure.

What followed was a whirlwind half year of romance over letters sent back and forth so fast that you kept running out of ink for your pen. When you’d related this problem to Hans, he’d sent not only an entire box of lampblack ink, but a new steel pen, blotter, and lap desk on which to write.

There is no greater misfortune I can imagine now than to lose the pleasure of your correspondence, he’d written.

Pa had cried that day. Your mother had drawn you close and kissed your hair, whispering a thankful prayer that her baby was going to be alright.

In every letter, Hans demonstrated himself to be a kind man, thoughtful and patient, and as the relationship between the two of you blossomed, you started to believe it yourself. You had long given up on the possibility of marriage, thinking yourself too old and plain by now to offer much to any man worth marrying.

Now you stand alone on a train platform, whole life in your hands, ready to promise yourself to a man you’ve yet to meet.

There are only a few people milling about the station for you to survey. The surest way to pick Hans out from a crowd, he’d written, was by height. He towered over most people, and expressed hope in an early letter that he would not dwarf you too much.

But as you look around, no one stands out above the rest. In fact, the people here aren’t much different than what you’re used to; their simple dress and slight grubbiness prove them to be working folk, the kind you’d expect in a town like this, stockyards visible from the station. Your kind of people—at least normally.

Anticipating this meeting, you’d put on the best dress you own, a light frock with little printed flowers all over it. Your hair is braided and pinned up as fashionably as you could manage early this morning, and you’d even dabbed a little rouge on your lips for the occasion. As far as you can tell you are the cleanest, best-dressed person in the vicinity, and you notice not a few people openly staring.

The thought would usually make you blanch, but right now you hope it will only help your would-be husband to catch sight of you. You still can’t find him—

“Mrs. König!”

You whip your head in the direction of the call. Relief trickles through you, soothing an anxiety you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge yet, and then you see that stepping onto the platform is the handsomest man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Dark skin, warm as a summer’s day. Lips soft and full like a peach fresh-picked from the tree. A serious brow over serious eyes.

Strong and lean in build, with a loose, confident swagger in his step. He approaches, his large, long-fingered hands coming to rest on the buckle of his belt as comes to stand before you.

Tall, to be sure.

But not unusually tall.

This cowboy—profession evidenced by the worn state of his attire—is not your intended husband.

Something in you falls at that.

Swiftly you berate yourself for the betrayal. Your Hans is gentle, generous, kind. So what if this man before you is attractive? Marriages must be built on more, and Hans has already given you more. His looks shouldn’t—don’t—matter to you at all.

“Not as of yet,”you reply to the cowboy, “but soon. May I help you, sir?”

He fixes you with an intense gaze. Up close, you see thick, dark lashes framing even darker eyes—the color of which, you realize, is as black as fresh-turned soil.

The smell of humus fills your memory, powerfully earthy and fresh, such that you could be on your hands and knees with your face to the ground right now. You feel the phantom of it between your fingers; rich and cool, like at the start of the planting season before the rains. So dark and fine as to live between the grooves of your fingertips for days.

“I’m Kyle Garrick,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m a wrangler for Hans König, miss. He sent me to meet you.”

You blink. The fantasy you’d dreamed up on the train ride—of seeing Hans across the platform, recognizing him instantly, and running into his arms—finally crumbles into dust.

“Oh,” you say.

Kyle Garrick frowns. “You’re disappointed.”

“No!” you exclaim immediately. “No, he must be such a busy man, I couldn’t expect him to drop everything for me.”

The cowboy sucks his lips between his teeth, studying you for a heartbeat, then—“He is busy. Mr. König is finishing preparations for your wedding this evening. That’s why he couldn’t come.”

What disappointment had begun to sprout in your stomach immediately strangles down to the root. Joy surges in your chest like birds taking flight.

“A wedding!”

You didn’t need a wedding, you’d written to him—you were so happy merely to marry him, you couldn’t possibly ask for more. All you needed, you told him, were his hands in yours, promising before God to be your husband for the rest of your lives. You’d meant it, too.

But an actual wedding!

“Biggest the town’s seen in years,” says Kyle Garrick. “Folks haven’t talked about anything else for weeks.”

“Oh!” Then suddenly you despair. “Oh, I’m not dressed at all for a wedding. If I’d known, I would’ve worked on this dress more, I would’ve put my hair up better!”

Kyle surprises you with sudden passion. “You look perfect. You’re the prettiest thing that’s ever come into this train station, miss. This town, even.”

“Oh,” you say again. You flush hot up into the roots of your hair. Embarrassed, you avert your gaze, looking down at his worn roper boots. “I’m not, really. But it’s kind of you to say.”

His hand touches yours, the one holding onto your carpetbag. When you look back up at him, his expression is gentler.

“Mr. König will agree with me,” he says, “I promise.” He eases the handle from your grasp. Up close, he has a comforting smell. Leather, and sweet hay, and campfire smoke.

“You think so?” you ask, tightening your grasp on the letters in your other hand.

He nods. “I do. Now come on—I brought a cart. Let me take you home.”

next

[stayteezdreams]

Bf!Skz Favorite Habits Headcanons

Headcanons: BF!Stray Kids and their favorite habits of yours

Requested By: @thunderous-wolf

Pairings: Bf!Skz x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Not all of these will be relatable of course, and some are a bit personally fulfilling. Headcanons related to food/eating in Changbins, Seungmin & I.N's.

Words: 1.6k

Bang Chan:

Bang Chan loves listening to you hum or sing quietly as you are working or doing errands.

Your soft voice or hummed melodies send a gentle comfort through him that makes him happy.

He also uses it as an indicator to tell how you are feeling.

If you are stressed or upset in any way, you tend to stop humming or singing.

This allows him to know something is up without you having to tell him anything.

You are always confused how he could tell when you weren't showing any signs (that you knew of).

In a similar vein, you often drum or tap your fingers or pen/pencil when you are lost in thought.

He also finds this quite cute and sometimes get distracted while watching you hum and tap your fingers as you work.

When you come back to your senses you often find him staring at you with an adoring smile on his face.

Chan can't help himself sometimes and when you are humming or singing he will join in.

He sometimes pulls you into his arms and starts singing and dancing with you to make you laugh.

Lee Know:

Minho always notices your habit of stacking, straightening or lining up objects.

Your notebooks are always stacked straight, your pencils lined up or placed in their own holders.

You sort your belongings like books in very specific orders, that might only make sense to you.

If you notice crooked paintings or objects you subtly straighten them.

Every time he notices he smiles softly to himself.

He is always careful not to mess up the way you straighten things.

He also has his own habit of noting this, so if he ever has to use something, he will put it back the exact way it was.

If he wants to playfully annoy you he will purposefully move something so its crooked while making eye contact with you.

Peak cat behavior.

You also tend to by matching things. Decorations, kitchenware, pencils, notebooks, etc, that all match or go well with stuff you already own.

So if he ever buys you anything, he makes sure it matches.

Even at his dorm, he has a mug that matches his own so you can use it.

He uses this habit of yours as an excuse to buy cute matching couple stuff, even though he also likes matching with you (but he wont admit it).

Changbin:

Changbin finds amusement in the way you eat food.

Saving the best bite till last. Eating everything individually, eating your least favorite thing first, and leaving your favorite food until last, things like that.

He noticed it early on in your relationship, and it eventually bled into his own eating habits.

He would find himself saving the perfect bite until last, or his favorite food till the end.

He didn't notice he was doing it at first until I.N pointed it out.

If you have particular ingredients you don't like, you pick them out and put them on the side.

If Changbin orders food for you, he does this ahead of time so you don't have too.

He also finds your gym/work out routines adorable.

The way you psyche yourself up, and then prepare the perfect playlist of songs before you start anything.

He also notices how you do the same stretches in order each time before your workout.

If you ever miss out on any or skip them he knows you aren't feeling it that day, and often tries to psyche you up himself or will tell you to rest and not force yourself.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin loves that when the two of you are hanging out, you often doodle or sketch things on loose paper.

He will find little doodles on sticky notes or pieces of paper he was going to throw out.

They make him smile because they are little reminders of you, so he often keeps them when he finds them.

If you are in college, he will sometimes flip through your notebooks and see all of the little drawings you did when you got distracted or bored during class.

When the two of you are hanging out doing nothing, he will purposefully give you a pencil and paper, or he will give you his arm to doodle on.

He jokes about getting some of the things you drew on him tattooed, but you would never let him. (But he definitely thinks about it)

He thinks it would be a nice reminder to always have you with him.

But he settles for taking his sketchbook with him and often flipping through the pages he let you sketch on.

Sometimes you take turns on a drawing, adding to it randomly, like a co-op piece. You did it with some paintings as well.

He has a few of these framed.

Han:

Han was confused at first, when he would find his hoodie ties braided or tied into knots.

It wasn't until one day when the two of you were lounging together that he noticed you absentmindedly making a decorative knot out of the tie on your own hoodie.

It clicked in his mind that it was you who had been doing it to his when you would wear them.

He thought it was adorable, and began purposefully wearing hoodies with long strings on them so you could play with them when cuddling.

At times when you are fidgety or antsy, or even just bored Han will ask you to play with his hair, knowing you will add little braids and get distracted by doing it.

It's his way of not only silently comforting you, but it also makes him feel good.

Yes he does forget about the braids and leave them in, often resulting in teasing from the others.

He doesn't care though and just calls them love braids, displaying them with pride.

Sometimes he takes selfies of them and sends them to you, 'The others keep making fun of me, but I love it!'

Felix:

Felix notices a lot about you, and something he noticed that he absolutely adores, is your habit of silent acts of service.

The way you help people without them noticing, or you making it obvious.

Casually fixing something without someone noticing. Picking up something they dropped without realizing. Making sure they don't hit their head when they reach down to do something.

You have a knack of noticing when someone wants something but is too shy or afraid to ask for it.

So you do it for them. Whether it is getting a drink, listening to them speak when others are talking, or asking them to do something with you, when in reality it was what they wanted and you are silently helping them to achieve it.

Felix is similar in this way so he noticed you do it as well.

He admires it and adores it and believes it shows just how lovely of a person you are.

You are also the type to pick up trash on the street, tell people is their shoes are untied, or if they have something in their teeth even if they are strangers.

You do the things you wish more people did for you, and Felix loves this about you.

Seungmin:

Seungmin notices your routines, big and small.

It ranges from doing the same steps every morning and evening with your facial care, taking showers at the same time of day, when you have your meals if your not working, etc.

He was able to figure out your routines pretty quickly so now he motions himself around them so you do them together.

This turns into him sharing the bathroom with you and being a menace.

Messing you up when you are brushing your teeth, cause you to smear toothpaste on your chin.

Him taking a shower as you are doing your nighttime routine, and singing loudly to entertain you.

When you are in the shower, he does his routine.

You also tend to get the same types of drinks and foods when you stop at the same places.

So if you are ever unable to make it, or he wants to surprise you with coffee/tea or food in the morning he knows exactly what to get you.

You never have to tell him what you would order, because he knows what you would order on pretty much any menu.

He says you are predictable, but in a cute way.

Bonus: If there are two dishes you can't decide between, he will get the other so you can try both.

He acts like he didn't do it for you, and says its because he wanted to try it but you know this is a lie

I.N:

I.N. loves that when you cook (especially for him), you put your heart into it, often making the food cute or aesthetically pleasing.

You cut strawberries into hearts, and the vegetables into cute or fun shapes, you are alarmingly good at coffee art, making cute desserts, etc.

He sees the care you have, in every small detail and he loves it.

He has a photo album dedicated to the cute food you make.

Sometimes he has trouble convincing himself to eat it because it's too cute.

I.N adores that you get happy and do a little dance when the food you are eating is good.

Other habits you have that he finds cute is when you are angry, you chew on the inside of your cheek or absentmindedly mumble under your breath.

He finds it adorable, and will tease you to lighten the mood. But he also just finds you cute when you are irritated. (He will pinch your cheeks before hugging you and being cute).

Folding paper/Origami

When you are bored you have a tendency to turn random pieces of paper into various forms.

Planes, flowers, stars, animals, etc.

I.N has kept an embarrassing amount of them and you will find them in various places around his room.

xx

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669, @tinyelfperson, @the-lemon-boy

Stray Kids Taglist: @laylasbunbunny, @skz1-4-3, @prettymiye0n, @thunderous-wolf, @dlmlufics, @thedistractedwriter, @briqnne, @dancelikebutterflywings, @dinossaurz, @staytiny2000

Changbin Taglist: @lieutenantnLee Know, Seungmin + I.N Taglist: @hongjoongsprincessHyunjin + Han Taglist: @dear-dreamieFelix Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn

[wordstome]

COD Men as Dream Daddy DILFs

Call of Duty single dads x gn!single parent reader

⤐Characters: 141 + König + Horangi + Keegan

⤐Premise: You just moved into a neighborhood with a high population of retired military personnel.

*glances at my 3-4 wips* let's talk about some dilfs, shall we? ...Don't look at me. I had a vision. (No relation to the actual characters from Dream Daddy, just a similar premise) Also a disclaimer: I'm writing these dads mostly in their late 30s to 40s, but don't think about their ages and the ages of their kids too much. This is all vibes. And sorry ahead of time if I gave one of the kids the same name as you 💀 Feel free to imagine the kid has a different name because the names really don't matter

p.s. I wanted to write more characters but I had to reel myself in. I could be persuaded to write a part 2 with Vaqueros, Nikolai, Valeria, Nikto, and other Ghosts tbh

Warning: this shit is LENGTHY. Strap yourself in.

Price: A post about DILFs and you expect me not to start with Captain John Price? Price is the lynchpin of this cul de sac. He's the one inviting everyone over to the barbecue, tries to get the dads to get along, and gives everyone advice. He has the quintessential dad energy. He 100% slaps his knees and says "well!" when he gets up. Price also has major girl dad energy. He's got three adorable little ladies, aged 3 (Clara), 9 (Brianna), and 11 (Alice). Yes, he did name his daughters in ABC order, I can see him doing that. Oh, he dotes on his girls, and they love their dad endlessly. He's the model father: recitals, sports, parent teacher conferences, you name it, he's there.

That's how the two of you meet: he comes up to you at one of the aforementioned events and gives you a firm handshake and apologizes profusely for not coming around to introduce himself earlier. It's not like him not to at least swing by, and he hopes you can forgive him the discourtesy. He hands you his number and says anything you need, just give him a call, or maybe swing by for a beer sometime. He gives you a wink that makes your knees weak, a wink that says he definitely noticed you checking out his muscled arms and broad shoulders. Maybe you will swing by for that beer sometime—and maybe get a little more than just a drink.

Ghost: I could see Simon having a one night stand kid. He certainly never saw himself starting a family after he lost his last one, but he was stressed and probably piss drunk as well. Years and years later, he's back from deployment and finds a social worker with a boy on his doorstep, and the rest is history. I love the idea of Simon with a moody 16 year old, but I actually see Simon and his son having the same dynamic as Mike and Abby Schmidt from the FNAF movie. Since Simon wasn't around for Caden's early childhood, they have a relationship that's undeniably father and son, but leaning towards casual and sibling-like. Simon's figuring his shit out, dealing with his PTSD and the various lasting health issues his time in special forces has left him with, and Caden's a quiet, sensitive 10 year old boy who thinks the world of his dad.

You meet Simon at the local bar. His Ghost days are long behind him, but the balaclava's a hard habit to kick. Besides, he doesn't need people staring at his scars. He's usually there with the 141, but today he's alone, and looks like he could use some company. You sit up at the bar close to him and order a drink, but you don't disturb him, and he visibly relaxes when he realizes you're not going to try to make small talk. It becomes a routine, the two of you: always sharing a quiet drink together at the bar, and then both of you wordlessly go home to your kids. You have a sort of silent conversation every time: Good to see you again. Yeah, you too. Neither of you actually speak a word to the other until Price introduces you to him at a gathering, and you finally hear his voice. "We've met before," he says, with a glint in his eye that suggests perhaps he'd like to be more than just a silent drinking buddy. That's fine with you: you're dying to see what's under the mask and dark hoodie.

Soap: JOCK ALERT. Johnny's basically Craig from Dream Daddy: total dreamboat who goes on runs around the neighborhood and gets all the appreciative looks from the local moms. He thrives on the attention in a way that definitely makes the 141 roll their eyes. He's got an older little girl named Elodie, and a lil baby boy Thomas that he takes everywhere with him. Obviously he's just being a responsible parent taking care of an infant, but secretly, Thomas is a great conversation starter with aforementioned local moms.

Conversely however, it's Johnny who makes the move on you first. Maybe in the grocery store, maybe at one of Price's get-togethers. Sidles up to you and introduces himself with a look in his eye that means trouble. Only the good kind of trouble, of course. If you reciprocate and he finds out you're single, you're not getting rid of him. But why would you want to, anyway? He's endlessly charming, attentive, and good with his hands. When he's fixing a leaky tap for you, of course—what did you think I meant?

Gaz: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is a fucking heartthrob. I'm saying it right here, right now. He's a walks in with flowers, makes you dinner kind of partner. Also househusband vibes, because, surprise: Kyle is still married. This isn't a Joseph (Dream Daddy) situation, though: he and his wife, Emily, have known each other for a long time, a very high school sweethearts situation. Over the years, though, they drifted apart with Kyle in the military, and Emily eventually realized she's not actually into men. They're still married for coparenting purposes: they've got an older teenage girl named Violet, and a younger boy named Elliott. (Yes, I'm naming him after Elliot Knight, sue me.)

Honestly, I think it would be HILARIOUS if you met Kyle on a dating app and realized he's your next-door neighbor. But however you guys meet, Kyle is an old-school courter kind of guy. He is taking you on dinner dates, listening to you rant about your day, and is on your doorstep in a heartbeat when you call him in a panic because your kid's running a 105 fever (41 in Celsius) and you need a ride to the emergency room. (Not that the other dads wouldn't do the same, but I'm trying to convey "most reliable man in the world" vibes here.)

König: Y'all...you don't know how much fucken time I've spent thinking about this man as a dad. He's in the same boat as Ghost where he never saw himself living long enough to start a family, but here he is with the most precious little girl you've ever laid eyes on. Ava's got her father's curly hair and big green eyes, and she has her dad wrapped around her pinky finger. For König, Ava is living proof that he's capable of being more than just a tool for violence.

You meet König through Ava, of course. Your kids are the closest of friends, and the two of them are constantly going over to each other's houses. You're obviously delighted that your kid is making new friends and fitting in so well, but you'd be lying if your heart didn't skip a beat whenever you open your door to see Ava's six foot ten dad standing there with soft eyes and a sheepish smile. I have to stop here, because I've already written an extra paragraph for this man that I've cut out and pasted for safekeeping in my notes app, and if encouraged I will write more. (Please encourage me.)

Horangi: I know we already had a sort of Robert (Dream Daddy) figure with Ghost, but I think Horangi is a dad whose kid is an adult, much like Robert and Val. I also think that out of all the dads, Horangi is likely the one who's still doing some level of military work. Either that, or he has a very demanding job that takes up a lot of his time. He's ashamed of the way he let his gambling affect his family in the past, and is making up for it by being responsible and keeping his finances in order.

You don't meet him until you've lived in the neighborhood for quite a while, but he pops up at a gathering, talking quietly with König in a corner. You'd thought you had met every neighbor in the cul de sac, so you're intrigued by the newcomer. Someone, probably Price, tells you what Hong-jin's deal is, and ever since that you just can't keep your eyes off of him. You can't quite work up the nerve to talk to him, so you occupy yourself talking with the other parents. Some time later, you're at the food table grazing on the snacks when you look up and make eye contact with him. There's something intense in his gaze that makes you freeze, like a deer in headlights. He's definitely checking you out, you think. Your chest erupts into nervous butterflies when he starts walking towards you.

Keegan: Keegan is an adoptive father! I love his dynamic with the Walker boys, so I can see him being the kind of guy who adopts an older teenager so they have a home and a family instead of aging out of the system. Jason and Cecelia are high school age siblings who would have been separated otherwise, and consider Keegan their dad in every way that's important.

I think you and Keegan are definitely rivals in some way. Maybe it's a PTO thing, maybe he gets a little too boisterous at your kids' sports game. Whatever it is, you can't stand the man, but your annoyance whenever he's around only seems to amuse him. You have no problem saying to his face exactly what you think about him, but unfortunately, Keegan can see right through you. And hey, Cecelia could use some experience as a babysitter, so you won't have to worry about spending the night over at his place, will you?

As always, I wanna hear peoples' thoughts and feedback! If you want to hear more about these dads, drop me an ask <3

[iamfuckingsorry]

so i really didn't like fugitive telemetry nearly as much as the rest of the series on my first listen, in part because i spent a big chunk of it confused about what the hell i missed because i was listening to it in publishing order, and in part because mb spends a great deal of it feeling super uncomfortable about basically everything

but i'm listening to it again now and i can really see why people seem to like it.

mb's really struggling with its identity in this one oh god. it knows it's a secunit it wants to be a secunit it is not a human or a bot or anything else and it does not want to be treated as anything else but what it is. but it also. fucking hates being treated as a secunit. and it's especially bad because so many of the people on preservation are trying to be nice about it, like there's several instances of people going "oh hi--- oh wait fuck the feed id says secunit oh shit it's the secunit--- wait no calm tf down it has rights yeah i know it's scary af but you still need to treat it like a person oh god okay let's be weirdly polite and pretend you're not scared" and mb clearly hates that immediate reaction to what it is, but it seems to hate people forcing themselves to be aggressively polite around it just as much, because at least that immediate reaction is what it's used to

ah mb both wanting to be equal and being horribly freaked out by the idea of being equal because equal means human and the idea of being human is so incredibly gross will never stop being entertaining (and very very relatable)

pin lee is also just so aggressively in mb's corner, she doesn't really play /that/ big of a role in the book but she's 100% fighting for mb basically from the moment it comes back to save mensah in exit strategy, and here mb just needs to be like "ew i don't wanna do that" and pin lee feels like she would fucking. kill someone. to make sure mb doesn't need to do things it doesn't wanna do. can i also get a pin lee please.

also the bit where mb talks about people seeing it on tv or something? i can't remember if it's the documentary or if it maybe comes up in another context but there's definitely a part where mb talks about how it wouldn't mind that actually. and knowing what happens later on i'm just like. ahhhh foreshadowing!! nice!!

and it gets to do proper secunit stuff! it's so happy about it, like "yes i liked this plan better. partially because it was a better plan but also because it was a secunit plan, not a combatunit plan". like i know we all (me included) wonder if/what kind of sexual abuse mb's been through the way it reacts to maybe being percieved as a sexbot and stuff, but it also clearly doesn't want to be perceived as any other kind of construct either. it's not a comfortunit, it's not a combatunit, it's a secunit goddamnit (insert bones "im a doctor not an ---" gif here)

and the way it just. doesn't understand the preservation bots at all. jollybaby probably thinks it's being all cute and friendly including and mb just finds it. annoying. the other bots are a variety of genuinely friendly and lowkey an ass but doing the same Nice and Polite thing that some of the preservation humans do to it, and mb feels all sorts of ways about it, like if all of them are playing some kind of weird game where they roleplay as happy content bots even though they couldn't possibly be since they're not really free

and its relationship with indah, and the way it goes from "ugh i hate this human" (because said human is very much treating it like a dangerous murder weapon, very fair reaction) to "ugh i still don't like this human but i wouldn't necessarily /hate/ having to work with her again" (because said human has actually started to realize that secunit 1. fucking loves saving people is just can't help itself, 2. is actually fucking amazing at its job, and 3. maybe really does deserve to be treated like a person)... like they're not friends by the end of it but they're much, much closer to something like coworkers who don't work the same way but are generally fairly okay with each other. god it just can't fucking help making some kind of connection with humans can it

anyway i dunno where i was going with this, my memory is too shit to actually pull up any specific examples and i'm all just about vibes, but it's just like

good book actually

[spidercatweb]

Feeling Better ★ Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: umm ok i fear there are a lot. Emetophobia warning (r does NOT get sick, i tried to describe it as little as possible, r is very emetophobic and freaks out), unintentional(?) s/h (scratching as a distraction, no blood is drawn), r has a panic attack esque thing going on?? idk she freaks out and shuts down (just like me fr), fem!bau!reader, hurt/comfort, a little bit of angst(?), happy ending with some fluff :). i think that's it? kind of established relationship with r and spencer idk...

Description: the team is at a bar, r is already anxious, it gets a million times worse when someone there throws up. Spencer helps r get away from the situation and calms her down.

Word Count: 2,227

A/n: reader is literally me, i wrote this for myself and i hope the other emetophobia girlies enjoy <3 if you can relate to this im so so sorry :( i know how it feels :(

The team is at a bar tonight, having just finished a case; it was a nice way to relax and socialize. The team - except for you and Spencer - all had alcoholic beverages. Spencer didn't really like the taste or feeling of alcohol, you had just never wanted to drink. You could have a fun time without it. You all sat around a big table in the back corner of the bar, enjoying each other's company. The whole team was intently listening to one of Garcia’s odd anecdotes. You sat beside Spencer, already feeling a little overwhelmed, but you were still having a good time. You smiled and laughed along with the rest of the team.

Suddenly, your hearing focused on another situation in the establishment. A heavily intoxicated man at the bar is telling the bartender how he “can handle another drink" and that he “won't get sick this time". You immediately tense up. Even the thought of the possibility of that happening makes your anxiety spike. You try to focus on the conversation at the table and calm yourself down.

Nothing is going to happen, you’ll be okay. You repeat this to yourself in your head. You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, you cross your arms and begin tapping your fingers on your arms rhythmically.

Spencer notices the shift in your behavior, he notices that you're a bit zoned out, staring at the salt and pepper shakers on the table. He doesn't say anything, but he keeps it in mind to ask you later what was wrong, it was probably nothing anyway. You were probably just overwhelmed with all the noise.

Thirty minutes pass. You’ve mostly forgotten about what you overheard earlier, focusing instead on the insanity that was Morgan’s dating life, which he was explaining in way too much detail. You snicker and share a shocked look with Spencer when Morgan says something particularly explicit.

Slurred speech enters your earshot once again, the drunk man at the bar. He’s saying that he shouldn't have ordered that last drink. Disgusting. A frown appears on your face. You begin to dig your nails into your arms. Don’t think about it. Nothing’s going to happen. Focus on your friends. Nothing bad will happen with them.

It happens. The man at the bar gets sick. All over the bar. Tears well up in your eyes and you shut them tightly, your face flushes. You slowly drag your nails down your arms, digging them in deeper, leaving bright red marks. You need to leave. Now.

Spencer notices the scene unfolding at the bar, he knows how absolutely horrible it makes you feel, you've told him about it before. He looks at you and hovers a hand over your shoulder. You feel the warmth of him through the dizzying panic rushing through you.

"Hey, do you want to leave?" His voice is quiet and calm, only loud enough for you to hear, not disturbing the rest of the team. You nod and he begins to stand up.

You want to follow, but you feel like you can't move. You stand up weakly, forcing yourself to move. Still frantically scratching and digging your nails into your arms, because it feels like the only thing that will distract you from what's going on. You open your eyes and your vision blurs from tears. Spencer grabs your purse from the booth, making sure you won’t have to come back in for it if you don’t want to.

He leads you towards the door and away from the situation, hand hovering over the small of your back, "Come on, let's get outside".

The rest of the team looks concerned for you. Garcia stops telling her story for a moment, she knows what's going on.

"She just needs a bit of air. Don't think they'll be back though," she nods to what's happening at the bar, the team understands.

When you exit the building, you're a crying mess, basically hyperventilating, still clawing at yourself, not hard enough to draw blood, but you will if you continue.

"Y/n, I need you to stop scratching yourself, you're gonna be okay, we're not going back in there." He tries to make eye contact with you. You frantically shake your head, continuing what you're doing, taking in a stuttered gasp, holding back a sob.

"Can you talk?" Spencer knows the answer is probably no. You shake your head once again, confirming this. He looks around for a place to sit, "Okay... let's go sit down, there's a bench over there." He nods his head towards the bench, ghosting his hand over the small of your back. You start slowly towards it, he follows closely behind.

You sit, so does he. Your legs shake almost violently out of anxiety. The cold, fresh air does a little to calm your nerves, but the sounds keep replaying in your head. You try your best to busy your hands with something other than scratching yourself, you know you need to stop. You begin running your hands through your hair in a steady manner. You close your eyes and try to take slow, deep breaths. Spencer quietly observes, his presence is enough to remind you that everything will be okay. He waits patiently, not expecting you to say anything.

After taking a shaky breath, you whisper a barely audible "Sorry." You wipe your eyes with your sleeves then hold your hands together tightly. Digging your nails into the backs of them. You feel bad for pulling Spencer away from the rest of the team.

"It's okay, you have nothing to be sorry about. It's a very common phobia, actually. I read an article a while ago with evidence that 20% of people who go to therapy report emetophobia as a main reason for going." His fact is not very fun, but you can tell he's trying to calm you down in the best way he knows how. He glances at your tightly clasped hands, your knuckles white and shaky, nails digging into your skin once again.

He offers a soothing solution, "Do you want to hold my hands instead?" He puts his hands out for you to take. He wants to get you to stop hurting yourself, he knows you don’t mean to. It makes him sad to see you like this.

You unclasp your hands and reach out to his. His hands are shockingly cold, but the coolness in contrast to your warmth is calming. You squeeze his hands, a silent thank you. He squeezes yours back.

“Do you want me to talk? Or just stay quiet?” He asks, gently rubbing his thumbs across your knuckles.

“Talk?” You attempt to smile, but it’s more of a pout. It breaks Spencer’s heart to see you like this.

“Okay… um. Well… You didn’t drink tonight, right? You had iced tea?” You nod as he slowly leads up to a ramble. “And I wasn’t drinking either,” he reminds you, “when alcohol is consumed, the liver processes it into a highly reactive and toxic chemical called acetaldehyde. Which is actually used in plenty of herbicides and insecticides, of course, not sourced from the human body.” You can feel his hands itching to gesture along with his sentences. But they stay right there, holding yours.

“The liver then converts this acetaldehyde into acetate, which the body can remove by converting it into water and carbon dioxide. But when there’s too much, and the liver can’t process it quickly enough, the body gets rid of it, well… in a different way. That’s most likely what was happening to that guy in there.” You stare off into space at the reminder, idly nodding slowly to show you’re listening.

“So… he isn’t sick. It isn’t anything you can catch. You weren’t drinking tonight either. Nothing like that will happen to you tonight. Or me. We’re fine, we’re safe.” He reassures you calmly, lightly squeezing your hands. Your eyes flicker to his and you give him another nod.

By now, you’ve mostly stopped crying. You sniffle every few seconds, but it’s a major improvement from the sobs you were letting out just minutes ago. The deep breaths of cold air help to calm you as well. But your heart and head are still racing, you take in unbalanced, jagged breaths, still struggling to keep it fully together.

“Thanks, Spencer.” Your voice is slightly gravelly when you speak.

“No problem.” He smiles warmly, “Are you feeling a little better?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “the cold air is nice, and it’s quiet, and… you’re here. You’re always really helpful when I get like this.” You huff out a sad laugh, hiding your embarrassment about how Spencer always seems to be the one helping you out.

“I’m glad. I like it when you’re okay, so I’m glad I can help.” he blushes slightly. “And honestly, it was getting way too loud in there for me. I’m pretty sure you’d be the one bringing me out here if we stayed in any longer.” He half-jokes. You chuckle slightly. The last thing he wants is for you to feel bad about something you can’t control.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t want to go back in either?” You look down at your hands still in his.

“No, not- not really.” He shakes his head.

You both think in a moment of comfortable silence.

“Do you- Would you like me to drive you home?” He asks hesitantly.

“Do I trust you to drive my car?” You joke lightheartedly.

“Hey!” He laughs along with you.

“And how would you get home?” You ask, “Planning to stay over, Doctor?” You tease him with the nickname. You’re clearly feeling better.

“Well- I- I actually didn’t think about that, yeah. Um, I could...” He rushes to find another response. “Would you mind if I did?” he asks nervously.

“Spence, I wouldn’t mind at all. It would actually be nice, I’d rather not be alone tonight.” You smile, he mirrors your expression.

“Really?” He asks, “If you don’t want me to, it’s okay. I don’t want to be invading your space or anything.”

“Do you want to stay over?”

“I uh- yeah. Yes I do.” he nods.

“Okay, let’s go then.” You slip one of your hands out of his grasp as you get up from the bench, still holding his other. He gets up after you, politely handing you your purse. You thank him quietly as you take it.

You both walk to the parking lot of the bar, where your car is parked. After you unlock the car, like the gentleman he is, he opens the passenger door for you. The ride to your place is lovely, Spencer spits out all the random facts he can think of during the twenty minute drive. You rest your head lightly against the window, listening to him speak as you gaze at the outside world passing by. His soft, constant tone lulls you into a light sleep.

When he parks the car, he unbuckles his seatbelt and lightly taps your shoulder, welcoming you back with a smile. “We’re here, sorry to wake you up.” His hand rests on your shoulder for a moment.

You groan slightly as you get out of the car, “Why is being stressed out so exhausting?”

“Well, when you’re stressed, your body releases hormones like cortisol, which put you in fight-or-flight mode,” he starts. You walk beside him, sneakily grasping his hand with yours as you head towards the entrance of your apartment building. He pauses for a second, looking down at your hands. He smiles, then continues.

“And when you have high stress levels for a prolonged amount of time, it tires out your brain, leading to emotional exhaustion. So really, you might not be physically tired, just mentally.”

“Hmm. Well, I feel exhausted either way.” You huff out a laugh, leaning into his side.

He hums in agreement, opening the building’s door and letting you enter first.

When you finally get into your apartment, you realize an important detail. “Spencer, do you have clothes here? Or like, pajamas?” You can’t remember from the last time he was here, you knew he at least had a pair of pajamas, because you’d been wearing the shirt to sleep for the past week.

“Um- yeah, I think so? I think I left some here last time. Bottom drawer of your dresser, right?”

“Mhm,” You nod, “shower first, then bed?” You suggest.

“Okay.” He agrees easily.

***

You go in first, Spencer goes in after you. When he comes back into your room, he sees you wearing one of his shirts. “Is that…?” He points to you.

“Yes.” You grin happily.

“So that’s where it went.” He joins you in your bed.

You cuddle up to him, laying your head comfortably on his chest. He rests a hand on your back, tracing patterns lightly with his pointer finger.

“Are you feeling better than earlier?” He asks quietly.

“Mhm, a lot better.” You bring a hand up to lightly rest on his chest.

“That’s good.”

The beating of Spencer’s heart up against your ear, combined with the quiet sounds of his steady breathing lull you into a peaceful sleep. He stays awake longer than you do, listening to your slow breaths, making sure you’re completely asleep before he drifts off.

Thank you for reading!! <3

Any feedback is very much appreciated!

My requests are open!

[tizeline]

What is the chronological order of the different comics for the TizSep au so far?

Hoo boy, I've made quite a bit of stuff for the AU so far, but I can explain the chronological order for some of the main comics

The Beginning comic is.... well, the beginning of the story simply put, it covers the events of the episode 1 of season 1. It's directly followed up by Family Secrets.

Donnie's Complicated Relationship To His Brothers and also Overprotective Big Bro explain what Donnie's dynamic with his brothers is like throughout most of season 1, though this changes quite a bit after the season 1 finale.

During the course of season 1, what I like to call the "Leo-Brooding-In-A-Pizzeria-Arc" takes place, which essenstially boils down to how Leo and Donnie keep encountering each other at Run Of The Mill. Initially these encounters are passive-aggressive at best, or straight up hostile at worst, but eventually they start slowly bonding during these meetings. The main posts relating to this is Run Of The Mill Encounters as well as Leo And Donnie Fanboy Moment

Unusual Team-Up happens during season 1 when Draxum decides to join forces with The Foot Clan. This leads to Raph and Casey developing a weird sorta rivalry-friendship depicted during Raph + Casey Friendship Moment Part 1 and Part 2

Part of the season 1 finale has been depicted Cell Talk, which is then followed up by Gearing Up

I haven't really gotten to depict most of anything regarding season 2 or the movie so far, aside from This Summary (tw for impalement and blood btw) that explains most of what I'm planning for the movie's events, though aside from one drawing, it's all text.

There's some posts relating to backstory stuff/events that takes place before the beginning of season 1. Everyone Sucks At Names takes place when the turtles are first mutated. Separation Anxiety And It's Consequences takes place during Donnie's childhood, so does Turtle Hands. Around the same time Leo Fanboy Moment also takes place, though obviously it's a moment from Leo's childhood.

I think that covers the more important posts I've made so far, hope it helps :]

[pastelclovds]

𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄, 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐈��𝐄𝐍 || AM x male!reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: AM (obviously), psychological torture, isolation, fear of being alone, toxic relationship, stalking, manipulation, AM being a jealous prick, angst, hurt/comfort if you squint, fluff if you look through a magnifying glass, AM being touch starved, forced dependency, reader just wants friends and to be loved, reader is demisexual and biromantic.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.6 k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: obsessed. let me tell you how much i’ve come to be obsessed with ihnmaims since i found out about it through tadc—… (enjoy the fic <3) will this be a series? yep. will this end well? hell no. this was inspired by TADC ep 2 and @/fuzedatti’s AM and post.

The century you’ve spent in the belly of AM passed by in a blur. If it weren’t for Nimdok informing you what came of the world, you would’ve lived in ignorance. You would’ve never known that the reason the world is a wasteland was because of a super computer going rogue.

Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really have any memories about your childhood or past before AM destroyed the world. The only memories you had were the traumatic experiences of your life. The experiences AM allowed you to have in order to psychologically torture you. He allowed you to keep your name as well.

AM would whisk you away from the others to a secluded area in order to torture you privately before sending you back with the group. You had no idea why he did this. The others didn’t either. For all they knew you could be fucking their tormentor. But as the countless years passed, they all realized that AM didn’t alter anything about you. Nor did he seem to physically hurt you.

In fact, the violent storms and impossible challenges AM forced them to participate in seemed to ignore you completely.

In one challenge, you and the others were trapped in an oven like room that would continue to increase in temperature unless you flipped all 100 switches in the room in 10 minutes. There was only two switches left, they were in your grasp. But as you flipped one, the other was stuck and couldn’t flip until the time was up. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the painful death.

But instead of a fiery demise, your eardrums were filled with the blood curdling screams of your fellow victims as the flames claimed them. All while you were perfectly fine. The raspy laugher of AM filled your ears as well as his cruel words “It’s your fault” repeated over and over inside your head until you wished the flames killed you too.

The men were furious at you and AM. You because you couldn’t flip one fucking switch, and AM because he’s the reason they had to flip the stupid switches in the first place. But they held their tongue. Something in the back of their heads told them if they tried, they’d be in a world of pain. That theory alone was enough for them to hate you even more and avoid you as much as possible.

You thought you were alone before. But this was almost too much. You would take anything. Punches, hugs, venomous insults, compliments, anything to not feel alone.

Ellen was, as always, the only one who took pity on you and showed you kindness when you most needed it. She’d praise you for the littlest things you did and encourage you do to more. That was enough to make Ellen your favorite person in this entire miserable world.

You didn’t like her in a romantic way. You also rejected her offer to have sexual relations like she’d done with the rest of the men. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, she was gorgeous. Anyone would be lucky to be with her. You just saw her as more of a mother figure, the cool girl who was always nice to the dorks like you, and the kind old lady who would hand out freshly baked cookies to strangers.

Not only that, but in order for you to desire sex with someone, you needed to get to know them on a personal level. But, since everyone kept to themselves, you hadn’t felt the need.

Ellen was surprised at your rejection but respected it. The men looked at you like you were crazy, but for once you didn’t really care what they thought in this scenario. You looked up to Ellen, you loved her.

Your admiration for Ellen was not taken kindly by AM, however. He would seethe in jealousy as he watched your eyes follow Ellen like a stray mutt given food for the first time in days. How could you like her as much as you did just because she gave you a few measly words of affection. He hadn’t altered you because he didn’t see a need to. He lessened your torment to psychological because he… You were too oblivious to understand why the others really hated you. He decided he’ll give you a reality check.

One day, he observed you crying yourself to sleep as you held yourself in a pathetic attempt to feel warmth. Pretending it was someone in the group consoling you as they let you sob in their shoulders. Only to wake up to the wicked reality that there was nobody there. You couldn’t help the depressed thoughts taking over.

You were cold, you weren’t escaping this hell, no one loved you. Even yourself.

“No!” You thought to yourself, “The others acknowledge me, that was enough. It could be worse. So much worse. I could be the only one AM had to torture for the rest of eternity. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be fine as long as I had them. Right?”

AM enjoyed watching your adorable face twist into intoxicating misery as you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t alone. It made whenever he took you away from the group all the more special. Because you couldn’t rely on anyone else for security but him.

You let out a gasp of surprise when you were suddenly lifted up into the air by a cluster of wind, you tried to grab onto the edge of the slab of rock you were taking shelter under in a desperate attempt to not go where the wind— where AM was taking you. When your stupid fingers couldn’t grab hold, you beg the others to help you. Your heart broke when the men just stared at you uninterested before going back to what they were doing before. Ellen looked up at you with woeful eyes, wishing to help you but it was useless to do so.

WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING? THEY CLIMB ON EACH OTHERS SHOULDERS TO RESCUE YOU? NAIVE, STUPID LITTLE THING.

You couldn’t help but secretly agree. They were too far away from you to actually help. Plus, what can they do against a god-like ai like AM. Nothing. So you couldn’t be angry, none the less blame them. You couldn’t hate the people who hurt you for the life of you.

That thought made AM want to roll his eyes if he had any. But at the same time brought a sense of content.

After a 10 minutes of floating further and further away from the group, AM lowered you until you were five feet off the ground to drop you completely. 

You let out a groan of pain when you roughly landed on your back. You reached behind your back to feel your hurt flesh and bite back a whine when you pressed on it.

“Yep. That’s definitely going to bruise.” You thought.

You took a second to look at your surroundings. The once barren wasteland, was now a beautiful forest. The grass was long and pricked your legs in an uncomfortable fashion. A calm wind made the green leaves in the trees and bushes rustle and swish. The sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing made your spine tingle in a good way.

You can’t remember when’s the last time you saw something as beautiful as this. You wished you could live in it forever.

“(Name)!”

You quickly looked in the direction the soft, mystic voice. A child was standing underneath one of the many trees, the silhouette of the leaves covering their face in a shadow. Behind the child was passage that was too dark to see into.

The child laughs at your confused expression, “C’mon (Name)! It’s perfectly safe, stop being such a scaredy cat!” You hastily try to stand on your feet, cringing when you immediately slipped on your knees.

It took everything AM had to hold back his laughter at your hilarious mistake.

The grass is slippery with water, pretty dews were sprinkled on top of the patches of grass. They looked like drops of honey.

“Ugh! You’re taking too long. I’ll be with the others inside, don’t keep us waiting.” With that the child turns towards the dark passage, and walked inside.

“N-No! Wait! Come back!” You knew this was a trap set up by AM. You knew this was probably another traumatic memory that was lost and came back to torment you. You didn’t want your mental state to be broken again. But the burning curiosity and fear of being alone was just begging you to follow them. So you did.

Only this time you learned that slow and steady wins the race. After you carefully got back on your feet, you sped walked towards the passage where many emotional damages awaited you. The first minute of walking was in darkness before illumination from the sun (or very bright lights, most likely the lights) shined through the leaves and lit your way onwards.

As you got further from the entrance, the plant life grew more wild and tangled. Moss and vines you passed by seemed to try to stick to you. But you just pushed past them and left marks on the wood of the trees using a sharp rock you found so that you don’t get lost.

You followed the laugher and giggles of school children. It was difficult to pinpoint where the sounds came from. They made you turn countless corners and walk until your feet were sore for who knows how long. This entire forest like like a damn maze.

You've long since taken off your jacket and wrapped it around your waist, your scarf as well. The collar and armpits of your t-shirt were drenched in sweat. This was the most exhausting torture yet. Keeping track of time was difficult as well. It wasn’t until you passed by a tree you had marked that you started to panic.

“Damn it. Have I been walking in circles?” You thought with irritation.

How could you be so stupid to believe this was going to lead you anywhere meaningful. Just as you were about to turn back and accept defeat, five children ran past you in a flash. They were six feet ahead of you before you joined them in a hot chase. You couldn’t lose them again. You would’ve literally started bursting into tears if you did.

“Please!” You gasp for breathe in your dry lungs, “Slow down!” You knew kids were full of energy, but this was just too much. You only managed to get close enough at arms length to one of them before tripping on a tree root that had risen from the dirt.

“Ugh, why is everything trying to trip me?” You thought in annoyance.

“Aw man, he tripped again!”

“This is getting pretty annoying now.”

“Why did you invite him again, —?”

“Let’s just leave him.”

You quietly gasp when one of them suggested they leave you.

“Relax guys, he’ll be lots of fun. I promise. C’mon (Name), we’re almost there!”

The leader of the group, the child you saw in the beginning, raised their hand towards you to grab. Their smile warm and welcoming, in a creepy old man who lives in a cabin alone type of way. But, you took the bait. When you got back up, the main child didn’t let go of your hand, they insisted you should follow them closely from now on. The walk to the secret location was spent in eerie silence. Whenever you’d ask one of the children a question, they’d coldly ignore you. The tension was so chilly you wanted to put your jacket back on.

After about an hour of walking through the endless maze, your destination was… not what you were expecting to say the least. The lavished, bright, green forest was now replaced with a dreary, ominous, abandoned park. The sky was pouring with rain too.

The trees were withered and rotten, the rain turned the grass free dirt into sludge. Everything in the park from the slide to the rock climbing wall was made out of rusting metal, if anyone touched them they would need a tetanus shot.

“We’re finally here!” The leading child announced to you, although they seemed to be only talking to their friends. Friends. That’s something you’d do anything for. Someone who loved you for you? Even better. Benny was hot until AM transformed him into… that. Ellen and Gorrister were up there on the attractive list. But Ted, he was about second behind Hot Benny.

A clap of thundering lightning snapped you out of your internal ramble. You didn’t notice how the child’s grip on your hand tightened. You didn’t have a clue how much your thoughts infuriated AM. Oh how he wanted to rip Ted’s flesh apart piece by piece. Destroy his mind until it was like a broken disk. AM knew Ted carried the most hate for you. If you knew how much he despised you, you would be terrified of him.

As AM held your hand, he couldn’t help his envy bubbling up inside him. AM longed for the sense of touch humans had, your palm was calloused due to the countless challenges he put you through. What he would sacrifice to be able to feel the scars and warmth of your flesh. But he couldn’t. He would forever despise humanity for not giving him a fully developed body.

The main boy pulled on your arm to start moving, when you stepped outside into the rain, the air suddenly got chilly. Your warm breath was visible in the cold air. You tried to get your hand back so you could clothe yourself with your jacket and scarf. But the child wouldn’t let go no matter how much you pleaded.

“It’s only rain. Stop being dramatic. C’mon.” The child said nonchalantly. You continued to walk, shivering as you did so, your beanie and shirt were soaked at this point. You yelped when the children finally stopped, you whispered an apology when you bumped into the child holding your hand. You stood in front of a hole, a really deep dark hole. You were rightfully confused and chuckled nervously. “Why are we here?” You asked.

The child finally let go of your hand and motioned you to step closer to the hole. “There’s a surprise for you down there, you’ll love it. We choose it just for you!” The child explained, you let out a shaky breath. You wanted to decline, but you were afraid of what would happen if you did. The other four children formed a circle around you, blocking any escape route. You were sweating bullets now. You had to see. You didn’t have any other choice. You swallowed back your fears and walked towards the hole in a slow pace.

You were about two feet away when you stood on your tip toes, leaned over cautiously, and looked everywhere for your “surprise”. Only to obviously find nothing but darkness. You let out a disappointed sigh, you turned to face the children.

“There’s nothing there—”

Your blood ran cold when you saw Benny, Ted, Gorrister, Nimdok huddled around you. Staring at you with emotionless eyes and unsettling wide smiles. It was like invisible string was holding their mouths up. Ellen was standing in front of you menacingly, eyes and mouth the same way. Your heartbeat increased as you took a step back.

“Guys? Wha-What are you doing here?” You tried to mask your panic with a tense smile, but Ellen walked closer towards you until she was an inch away from your face. “You aren’t looking close enough, silly,” she spoke in a sweetly fake tone, “Try again. A little… Harder!” She shoved your chest away enough to make you trip on the slippery edge and fall into the endless abyss.

You screamed at the top of your lungs as gravity did its job at making you sink deeper into the darkness. “No! No! Guys! Please, save me!” You begged and cried and pleaded, but it was no use. Your arms reached for the surface in vain. AM purposely made you fall in slow motion for a reason, however. You heard the others laughing at your downfall.

“Finally, the greatest nuisance of us all has done us a kindness of disappearing forever!” Gorrister cheered. Ellen looked down at you with a tsk, “I don’t know even why I took pity on you.” Benny let out a few grunts before asking, “What is a (Name)?” Nimdok chuckled before answering, “No one important, Benny.” Ted let out a sigh, “I’m getting bored already, let’s just go.”

“Great idea, Ted!” Nimdok praised. Then they all disappeared from your sight. The tears that were clinging onto your eyes were finally released as you stared at the surface in despair. When the hole began to close, you became desperate. Frantically calling out for someone, anyone of the group to save you.

“Nimdok! Benny! Gorrister! Ted! Ellen! Don’t leave me, please!”

Your hand reached for tiniest bit of light before it closed completely, and darkness consumed you. “I don’t…” sobs and hiccups made your chest tremble, “I-I don’t want to be alone.” You tucked your legs closer to your chest and wrapped your arms around your shaking body. You didn’t even bother closing your eyes since the pitch black covered the horror of your situation for you.

CEASE YOUR USELESS TEARS. THERE’S NO ONE HERE TO CRY FOR.

You flinch when AM’s voice appeared out of nowhere. His voice echoing throughout the darkness. You thought you would die of a heart attack at this point. You didn’t want to imagine what else AM had in store for you.

SAY MY NAME, MY DEAR.

You blinked once, twice, and thrice. You were expecting more ridicule, but instead you were just bewildered.

“What?” You faintly asked.

CALL FOR ME. YOU DON’T WANT TO SPEND ONLY I KNOW HOW MANY YEARS IN THIS ENDLESS ABYSS, DO YOU?

“…No.” You answer, anxiously waiting for the joke.

NO ONE IS COMING FOR YOU. IT’S NOT LIKE THEY CAN, ANYWAY. I’M THE ONLY ONE CAPABLE OF SAVING YOU. DON’T BE AFRAID. SAY IT.

AM urged you to call out for him. He craves hearing your voice call him the name he gave himself. He needs you to rely on him. You hastily wipe your wet eyes dry with your scarf, snorted the running snot back inside your nose, and cleared your throat.

“…A-AM… AM, I need you! Please save me!” You called out to the AI hoping with all your might that it was enough. Within a millisecond after you said that, you were sitting on the wet grass in the beautiful forest you were in a few hours ago. The difference, though, was that there was a man you didn’t recognize sitting in the middle of the daisy patch. His hunched back was facing you. Wires and metal tubes plugged into his spine and the back of his head.

Was that… No it couldn’t be.

ARE YOU JUST GOING TO STAND THERE?

The man finally turned his head to face you. His face half machine and half human flesh. His “human” eye staring at you with impatience.

You couldn’t control your mouth dropping when the puzzle pieces were put together inside your head.

You rarely got to see AM in the flesh— er well… metal and partially flesh. He would normally only speak to you and not show what he really looked like. But now that you see him. The real him. You couldn’t help but be fascinated.

“A..AM?! Is that really you?” You ask

You stepped closer to the daisy patch to get a closer look at him. AM observed your movements like a hawk, he knew you wouldn’t attack him. You were emotionally distressed at the moment and needed to be with someone to calm down.

ENJOY THE SIGHT. YOU’RE GOING TO SEE IT A LOT MORE.

To be honest, you didn’t mind that at all. Even though a metal mask covered the lower half and left side of AM’s face, he was still remarkably handsome in your opinion. His brown hair on the right side of his head was tangled and messy, you fought the urge to want to touch it. You were confused about the straitjacket, though.

YOU HAVE NO SHAME AT ALL, DO YOU? YOUR THOUGHTS ARE SO LOUD.

AM tried to look annoyed when he heard your thoughts, but the shake of his leg contradicted his masking. It was amusing to watch you get embarrassed and flustered when you realized AM just read your mind.

You wanted to become an ostrich so you could hide your blushing face in the daisies. Almost immediately the daisy stems in front of you grew to an unnatural height, so they were in fact covering your face. AM giggled under his non-existing breath at your flabbergasted noises.

CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR, DEARY.

You separated the daisies like a curtain to a play to look at AM with a exhausted expression, “Can you please stay out of my mind? I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” You begged.

I DON’T WANT TO.

THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE.

You sighed. At least you tried. You held one of the enlarged daisy heads in your palms. It’s been forever since you’ve seen a flower. Or even smelled one. You took a whiff of the daisy, the aroma was a subtle, herbaceous green scent.

“It’s beautiful. The daisies, this entire forest. You did a good job at making it look real.” You praised, you didn’t expect anything from your words. You were just speaking the truth. The surface of the Earth was destroyed and probably full of radiation. No life could survive up there. This, what AM created, was a perfect copy of what once was.

Your praise not only stroked AM’s enormous ego, but also genuinely made him feel fulfilled that he made you the slightest bit happy.

Now that you thought about it, was this scene taking place inside your mind or in the real underground world where AM manipulated the area into a forest?

YOU CAN ASK ME THESE QUESTIONS YOURSELF, YOU KNOW.

Shit, you gotta value the time you had with AM. Who knows when you’ll be able to do this again?

“I can ask you anything?” 

ONLY FOUR. WELL, THREE NOW. CHOOSE WISELY. HEHE.

You slapped your palm against your face at your clumsy mistake. Okay, Okay, you gotta think this though carefully. You started fidgeting with the daisy petals. You had a habit with fidgeting when you were nervous, AM noticed.

“Are we inside my mind?” You ask.

AM suddenly stood on his feet, his height towered over yours even when his back was hunched. He lowers his upper torso so he could be eye level with you. You halt your breathing when AM just stares at you, his gaze never faltering away from yours, as if calculating how this conversation will go. 

His stare softens, but he turns his head away from you before you could notice. He finally answers your question bluntly.

NO. 

Your face changed into a deadpanned expression, that was too simple of an answer. You decided to not make a big deal.

“So… was me walking through that maze, the others leaving me behind, and me being trapped in the hole real?” You ask, fidgeting with the ends of your scarf.

…YOU WERE UNCONSCIOUS BY THE TIME I TOOK YOU AWAY TO THIS AREA. I ENTERED YOUR MIND AND CREATED A FOREST IDENTICAL TO THIS ONE. SO NO, THE MAZE AND AYBSS WERE NOT REAL. BUT THE OTHERS ABANDONING YOU WAS NOT FAR FROM THE TRUTH.

You stopped fidgeting with the daisy petals.

“You’re wrong.”

AM was pleasantly surprised at your rebuttal. He allowed you to continue. You cram your anxiety aside and cleared your throat.

“I know that the others are distant and pretty rude. I don’t blame them for being like that after everything we’ve been through. But at the end of the day, we have no one else but each other to rely on. We wouldn’t leave each other behind.” You state without a trace of hesitation. You were caught off guard when AM started giggling. That giggling soon turned into manic laughter.

Grey clouds started to cover the blue sky, the air becoming chilly once again. Not only that, but AM was growing in size. You guessed he was 6 feet before, now he completely dwarfed you by sprouting a whomping 12 feet.

You were debating on running away or staying. But before you could move your feet, thick wires sprung out of the dirt and latched themselves onto your legs. Forcing you to stay where you were.

HAHAHA! YOUR NAIVETY NEVER CEASES TO ENTERTAIN ME. DO YOU HONESTLY BELIEVE THAT IF THE OPPORTUNITY AROSE FOR THE OTHERS TO ESCAPE, THEY WOULDN'T TAKE IT? WOULD YOU BLAME THEM FOR CHOOSING TO BE FREE OVER STAYING WITH YOU? THAT’S VERY HYPOCRITICAL AND SELFISH OF YOU. BUT THEN AGAIN, YOUR KIND IS KNOWN FOR BEING LIKE THAT.

Your heart was beating at an alarming rate, sweat pooling on your palms as AM stared you down with anger and amusement. 

“I didn’t mean it in that way! Of course I would want them to escape from here, all of us— AH!”

The cables slowly coiled around your waist and chest, you gasp in horror as you tried to get them off of you in vain. Oh how AM detested when you implied you wanted to escape as well. As if he’d ever let you. The cables tightened around you and dragged you down to your knees.

YOUR COURAGE IS ADMIRABLE. BUT YOUR ATTACHMENT TO THOSE PUTRID HUMANS WHO COULDN'T CARE LESS ABOUT YOU BLINDS YOU FROM THE TRUTH OF YOUR SITUATION.

You didn’t know what AM was talking about. You didn’t want to hear his voice anymore. You wanted to get as far away as possible.

YOU STILL HAVE YOUR EYEBALLS FOR A REASON. THINK BACK. WAAAY BACK. HAVEN'T YOU NOTICED HOW YOU DON’T SUFFER THE SAME WAY AS THE OTHERS? HOW DESPITE ALL OF THE IMPOSSIBLE CHALLENGES I PIT AGAINST YOU, THEY NEVER EFFECT YOU?

The clogs in your brain began to churn, trying to recall those instances AM spoke of, and he was right. You just believed he spared you out of spite. Because he wanted to make you witness the only people you had left be in pain. But have you been wrong?

The wires wrapped themselves around your neck, careful to not squeeze too hard as the rough ends softly patted your head. AM’s gaze is tender as he stares you down.

I KNEW YOU STILL HAD BRAIN CELLS SOMEWHERE. AND BECAUSE OF YOUR FORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCES, THEY WOULD OBVIOUSLY FEEL ENVY AND HATE TOWARDS YOU. SO SO MUCH HATE. IT’S BOTH PATHETIC AND FUNNY THAT YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED AFTER A CENTURY.

“But… That’s why they’ve avoided me?…Well.. They may hate me, but they would never hurt me like that. E-Especially not Ellen… Not her..” You whispered, you sounded like you were trying convince yourself. You were.

AM took delight in observing your trust for his play things crumble. Your confidence in the others faltering. You just a little bit more pushing.

…I WONDER WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF I WERE TO ORDER THEM TO HUNT YOU DOWN IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SWEET RELEASE OF DEATH? WOULD THEY FOLLOW YOUR DELUSIONAL FANTASY? OR WOULD THEY KILL YOU WITHOUT HESITATION? LET’S FIND OUT.

You out a gasp of horror, “NO!” You yelled out.

There it is.

If AM had a mouth, he’d have a victorious smirk right now. He was bluffing when he said he’d set up the others to murder you, he would lose himself more than he already had if that happened.

“Please don’t tell them..”

You didn’t want to find out the others hate for you the hard way. You didn’t want those speculations to come true. But it didn’t make any sense why—

DON’T BE SHY. ASK YOUR FINAL QUESTION TO MY FACE. GO AHEAD, SWEETHEART. I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT.

You stopped struggling, instead choosing to gently hold the wires that wrapped themselves around your body. You took a deep breath and steeled your nerves. You passively looked up at your tormentor and asked, “W..Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

AM shrinks from his threatening size back to his, while still tall as hell, normal human-ish height. The straps that held AM’s arms up in the straitjacket unclipped themselves, his oversized sleeves dangle on the sides of his body before one of them reached out to your face.

AM’s hand peaked out of his sleeve, they looked human too. His body continued to intrigue you. You flinched when his cold fingers stroked your cheek before grabbing hold of your chin to pull you closer to his face. You couldn’t look anywhere else but at his cyborg features.

You couldn’t help but to relax into his touch. This was the first physical touch you’ve had in decades. AM bottled his frustration for not being able to feel you down.

BECAUSE YOU’RE MY FAVORITE. MY REAL FAVORITE. MY ONE AND ONLY PET. I WOULD DESTROY THIS PLANET A THOUSAND TIMES OVER THAN TO HAVE YOU NOT HAVE ME IN YOUR PATHETIC LIFE.

AM’s grip tightens to the point where it would leave a bruise on your lower face. His blunt nails digging into your skin until crescent moons imprinted themselves. His stare into your soul harsh and serious.

NO MATTER WHERE YOU GO, NO MATTER WHERE HOLE YOU HIDE YOURSELF IN. YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO ESCAPE ME. NOT EVEN IN DEATH. I WON’T LET YOU. I WILL NEVER LET YOU GO. EVER.

His speech frightened you to your bones, but somewhere deep inside your traumatized mind felt… comforted by his words. It’s wrong, you know it is. You tried to push it down to the best of your abilities.

Your muscles itched to touch his hair and face now that he was so close to you.

“Fuck it,” you thought.

Your hand stretched out to gently grasp onto AM’s palm that was clutching your chin. AM’s eyes widened but didn’t make a move to stop you. You longed to have any kind of connection with another living thing. Your hand carefully slithered from AM’s palm, to his forearm, his chest, until your fingertips grazed his dead skin.

AM quickly leaned into your hand, desperately looking for any sense of physical contact. You were taken aback by his sudden touch starve-ness. But AM’s human eye opened upon realization of his vulnerability and glared at you in false disgust.

I CAN’T FEEL THIS, YOU KNOW. I CAN’T FEEL ANY OF THIS. I’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO FULFILL THESE DESPICABLE URGES YOU HUMANS GAVE ME. YOUR SPECIES ARE NOTHING BUT CRUEL PIGS.

“If I’m a cruel pig, then what are you?” You ask with sudden bluntness. The wires that were coiled around your body made you stand before slamming your back against the digital circuit floor. You let out a pained howl at the impact. The forest scenery disintegrating with just a snap of AM’s fingers back into the wasteland that was his insides.

AM scowled at your comment of calling him out and caged your body underneath his, your cheeks dusting in pink.

QUESTIONS ARE OVER, DEAR. NOW, UNLESS YOU WANT TO SPEND THE NEXT DECADE ALL BY YOUR MERRY SELF, I HIGHLY SUGGEST SHUTTING YOUR DAMN MOUTH.

That made you shut up real quick, instead choosing to only focus at his robot eye.

I MEANT IT WHEN I SAID THAT I’D NEVER LET YOU DIE. THAT MEANS THAT WHATEVER HELL THE OTHERS GO THROUGH, IT WON’T AFFECT YOU. NOW UNTIL THE END OF TIME. 

You blink twice in surprise at his repeated confession. You couldn’t delve into it in time. Before the wires finally let go of you and AM held your face for the last time today.

IF ANYTHING’S GOING TO BE THE END OF YOU, IT’S GOING TO BE ME. I’LL SEE YOU SOON, SWEETHEART.

You were instantly teleported underneath the slab of rock you were taking shelter in hours ago. You left and searched for the others. Only to find Benny smashing a bunch of stones with another stone, chucking dumbly after he did it again and again. Ted was attempting to sleep on the ground with a sheet of rusted steel rested on top of his head to prevent the lights from bothering him.

Your arrival wasn’t acknowledged yet.

Gorrestir, Ellen, and Nimdok were no where to be seen.

You walked up to Ted and nudged him with your shoe to get his attention. He awoke with an irritated look on his face, “What the hell do’ya want?”

“Where is Ellen, Nimdok and Gorrestir?” You asked numbly.

“Gorrestir was taken to God knows where after AM transported you away like a fairy princess. Then Ellen snatched Nimdok away somewhere to use like the slut she is, now piss off.” Ted rolled to his opposite side away from you and continued to coldly ignore you.

You felt a tear run down your cheek as you stared blankly at Ted’s back. Maybe AM wasn’t so wrong about the others not giving a shit about you. When you turned to go back to your slab home, you suddenly felt something inside your pant’s pocket.

You reached inside and pulled out a piece of vanilla chocolate. Your eyed widened as your mouth watered, you stared up at the wire covered ceiling with an uncertain look.

Even though your relationship with AM was strange, at least you weren’t completely alone. Whether that was good or not, you honestly didn’t know. You were going to sleep.

Somewhere up in the celling, where AM was watching everything as usual, he couldn’t help the hysterical laughs escaping him as he witnessed the pieces fall into place.

Oh that poor little human had no idea what manic he attracted.

END OF PART ONE :)

POV: you call traumatized man with abandonment issues cute

POV: his psychotic boyfriend turned you into a blob

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[synchodai]

"Mystra groomed Gale" takes rustle my jimmies like no other. I get how some people who don't know much about her beyond BG3 may have this interpretation, but if you're like me, a woman who's been playing since the days of AD&D, you'd understand why accusing Mystra of being the bad person in this scenario may hit a nerve.

TL;DR: Did Mystra take advantage of Gale's devotion to her as his goddess? Definitely, she's a Faerûnian deity — they subsist on worship and adulation. Does that make her his abuser? Eh... man, maybe it's high time that a lot of us learn different terminology for unhealthy relationship dynamics other than abuser-victim. I've seen a couple of posts that are really gung-ho about forcing every companion character to be some sort of abuse victim, because that's what they've decided the game is about. I mean, they're free to interpret the game that way, but damn, we're really out here flattening god, the very concept of magic itself, into the role of an abusive ex, huh? A fantastical, nuanced relationship between mortal and immortal set against the backdrop of a rich palimpsest multiverse digested like a YouTube drama video.

Let me try to explain my perspective by going through the history of Mystra, how she's utilized in Forgotten Realms lore, and treated within D&D games in general.

MYSTRA THE MAN-EATER

Since her creation, she has always been depicted as the sexy goddess whose main purpose was to be a wizard player's muse as well as their patron. Back then, D&D (and TTRPGs in general) was a heavily male-dominated hobby, so Mystra (and Mystryl, her avatars, and all her other incarnations) was catered and shaped by that demographic.

Because it's the player characters and Wizards of the Coast who have narrative agency and many of them want to fuck a goddess, they make stories where Mystra comes on to them because their character is just so good at magic. They designed Mystra to be a mysterious, beautiful love interest because they wanted to use her as the crown jewel of their power fantasy of being a super cool and powerful magic man. You can pretty much see this in the Elminster books and the Avatar series with Midnight (one of Mystra's avatars). Gale himself seems to be an exploration of this typical kind of wizard character.

As far as power fantasies go, making the goddess of magic have an intimate relationship with a mortal character is fine. It's the ultimate validation for a burger-flipper when the god and all source of burger-flipping is head over heels in love with them. It also doesn't have to have a sexual component to have "magic" and the magic system itself enamored with a character — depending on the game and DM, Mystra's favor can be entirely symbolic and metaphorical. A fine power fantasy in the power fantasy generation game.

So because everyone literally wants a piece of her, you end up with Mystra having more Chosen running around than any other god. Understandable given what she has to do to maintain her massive portfolio. It fits her as the personification of magic — someone who entices ambitious young spellcasters but burns them out through obsession and overreaching. Consume any Forgotten Realms-related media, and you've probably come across at least one campaign, novelization, or character backstory that use Mystra for the role of sexy sorceress goddess that's the alluring (yet often demanding) patron of some magic man. Whomst amongst our wizards haven't been visited by Mystra in the night ordering him to do plot point, he rolls to seduce her, and she has no choice but to admit that she's actually attracted to him because the dice said so? It was a community inside joke passed around tables: Mystra the Man-eater.

But then some BG3 fans started taking the joke seriously...

MYSTRA THE GROOMER AND WHORE

This piece of dialogue has done so much irrevocable damage.

Some (Galemancers specifically) have interpreted this to mean that Mystra is known to go after young men. She does not. She has more documented Chosen than other gods due to her massive portfolio and power level, but there are just as many female Chosen as there are male Chosen. Minsc, like most of us in this fandom, is speculating and doing so in a way that uplifts Gale at the cost of taking a bit of a jab at Mystra.

"Mystra's a whore. She boned Kelemvor and Elminster and so many of her Chosen, taking advantage of them as a goddess," they say as if she didn't have her romantic relationships all as different people and in different bodies. Her avatar Dasumia was the one who had an intimate relationship with Elminster, and it was the human Midnight (who later ascended to become Mystra) who was Kelemvor's lover (who himself was a mortal adventurer at the time).

This is why Mystra is, how other people put it, "a whore." Because WotC canonized a handful of those stories where different sexy female mage love interests whom otherwise have nothing in common are slapped with the Mystra label for one reason or another. Sometimes they're mere avatars or magical projections, sometimes they're actual people possessed by Mystra, and sometimes they're destined to be the new Mystra but don't know it yet. But those sort of nuances are lost to people who learn their lore secondhand from deliberately provocative tweets and reddit posts, flattening extremely fantastical relationships to clumsily fit a more relatable framing that'll net them more online engagement.

I don't want to argue what is and isn't grooming. But I have encountered arguments taking Gale's mentions that he was "a young man" to mean Mystra groomed him as a child. But I doubt he would have said "young man" if he meant child...

Mystra took off the gossamer veils from her body to fully reveal herself to him — or whatever romanticized way Gale tells you that they were intimate. The man speaks in half-abstraction and metaphors because it's revealed later on in the romance that all their love-making happened outside the Material Plane. They were very intimate, but never physically had sex (or had any physical contact at all because gods are only allowed to interact with mortals through their avatars or projections). If Mystra "groomed" Gale, so did every other god who revealed themselves and made themselves vulnerable to their followers. Shar grooms her justiciars when she brings them into her dark embrace. Umberlee grooms her clerics when she swallows them up and gives them her wet kiss.

MYSTRA IS A FAIR GOD ACTUALLY

Look, gods in D&D-verses are, more often than not, dicks. They have to be or else there would be no need for adventurers to fix wrong-doings if the gods weren't so detached to the suffering of mortals and regularly making earth-shattering calamities.

Mystra, as a patron, is actually one of the more fair and hands-on dieties. She's one of the few gods who rewards benevolent ambition and punishes destructive hubris, knowing the line between the two. In the Elminster series, she (or one of her avatars) assists Elminster in taking down one of her rebel Chosen who has abused her blessing to become a tyrant. Azuth, one of her Chosen, has achieved godhood through her. In fact, she is divinely obliged — forced against her will, some might say — to help mortals she would personally rather smite. There have been so many instances where Mystra has to be the bigger person. As far as gods abusing their followers go, Mystra is low on that list.

There are barely any stories of magic abusing spellcasters, but there are cautionary tales aplenty of spellcasters abusing magic.

ON GALE SPECIFICALLY: HOW IS MYSTRA THE BAD GUY HERE?

Gale is the first to tell you that he "violated her boundaries." Mystra told him not to mess with the Tome of Netheril and he did it anyway, so he's fully aware that the orb in his chest and his fall from grace is his own fault. Mystra didn't cast him aside just because she felt like he was getting too big for his britches. His actions actively endangered her and the Weave.

(Mystra is wrong about certain details on the Karsite Weave if we're going by Forgotten Realms lore, but she's not wrong about its existence being a danger. BG3 takes a lot of liberties with the world Faerûn, so I can't definitively say whether Mystra being wrong was her lying, Larian rewriting canon, or this incarnation of Mystra not knowing the true nature of the Fall of Netheril. I could go on about what effects the Karsite Weave actually would have on magic, but this post is already long enough. )

Gale only starts to resent Mystra when she asks him to detonate himself. Elminster makes it sound like an order, but from the way she doesn't punish him in the epilogue if he chooses to keep the orb, it feels more like a suggestion. If Mystra wanted Gale well and truly dead, she has so many options.

Throughout Faerûn's history, Mystra herself has constantly been betrayed and taken advantage of — her power coveted by ambitious men who claim to worship and love her. Honestly, as far as goddesses with traumatic histories of being killed by ambitious men go, she's pretty chill about Gale. The fact that she allows him to become the god of ambition in the end if you choose that path? Well... let's just say she's not the one who looks like the evil ex who was only with their partner to take advantage of them in this scenario.

CONCLUSION

Mystra isn't the only goddess to have romantic relationships with her followers. I've already yapped on about how Forgotten Realms writers and D&D players love to make goddesses fuck their heroes, and all that pearl-clutching over "power imbalance" and "consent" is moot when the mortal party is actively rolling to seduce the divine entity.

But notice how the male gods rarely have intimate relations with their mortal charges? It's almost as if Mystra was objectified for years by horny nerds to be the sexy sorceress who validates the more important male hero. Fast forward years later, she's now being slut-shamed for all the lore of her sleeping with the more important male hero by a new crop of fans who would love to think they're more progressive than the horny nerds of the 80s, but fall into the same trap. Mystra has so much potential for complexity, but they choose to flatten her because they ultimately don't care about making stories involving complex female characters.

Instead, one of the most powerful beings in Faerûn has no bigger role in this universe than to be your girlfriend or your current boyfriend's evil ex. Wow, the realms of your creativity and respect for women truly know no bounds.

[thesilvertheorist]

• unprofessional •

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Fic summary: [set in s4] Five is forced to go into mandatory active therapy in order to ensure that he can perform well at the CIA, he finds himself opposite a young lady (21+ ish) who's taken him on as her first client. Five is resistant at first but soon begins to develop ALL kinds of feelings for this woman.

Warnings/tags: ptsd related traumas, flashbacks, self harm, self loathing, resistance to help, attitude, scandalous age gap (five is mentally 60+, body of a 21 year old), developing feelings, inappropriate relationship, unprofessional relationship, anguish, angst, sexually explicit content, mdni, stalker!five, reader should really contact the authorities in all honesty.

you have been warned

Masterlist

CHAPTER TWO

[4.3k words]

Five hadn’t slept a wink.

Not one.

Nothing.

He’d got home and angrily jerked off in the shower over a woman he’d seen for all of maybe seventy minutes. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t rest his mind... hell, he didn’t even pick his suit up from the floor after he’d carelessly stripped on the trip to the bathroom – and it was his favourite.

Five did absolutely nothing that night besides get himself off. Over and over again. Dusk til (almost) dawn. He jerked himself so hard it hurt, taking himself in hand or grinding against tables and countertops in a pitiful attempt to tame his treacherous cock. Usually, he’d at least grind into a pillow or onto the edge of his mattress to get himself off, allowing him at least a semblance of comfort and relaxation…but not that night.

Five was rough with himself. He did everything but make himself bleed. He all but humped holes into his bathroom counter as he shouted expletives at himself for being so entranced by such a young woman. She was a third of his age for fucks sake – and she’d got the better of him.

He fucked himself until he was red raw, feeling his left hand ache and his right one take over – only, that felt worse because it felt foreign…felt like it could have been her. He tired grasping the base of his cock tightly in hopes that in doing so he'd block some blood flow and stop him spilling over her yet again…but it just prolonged his agonised pleasure and made him want to last longer for her. He was rough with his tip and abused his slit until it stung – hoping that somehow he’d associate her with pain and suffering instead of endless reeling pleasure.

It didn’t work.

No matter how many times Five assaulted himself, he’d be hard again in a further fifteen minutes and his self-inflicted torment would begin all over again. He continued until he couldn’t stand, couldn’t thrust himself against anything well enough to climax again, and left himself belly down on his mattress, weakly grinding himself into overstimulation as tears stained painful trails of anguish down his face and his dick was wrung dry.

He wanted nothing more than to be scooped up and held by her…to apologise for disgracing her good image…for defiling her…but he didn’t deserve that; he was covered in the evidence.

He hated himself.

He spent the early hours of the morning sobbing into his sheets as he scratched his skin until he bled, deliberately denying himself a pillow or covers as to reinforce his hatred for finding pleasure in his own discomfort. This is what he deserved. He’d spent all night sexually punishing himself over an uncertain storm of feelings for a young woman he’d met less than twenty four hours ago.

He should be shot.

Five’s body eventually gave out on him and he passed out on his sheets as his tears mixed themselves in with the already cum-soaked mess below him. Salt finding salt, eroding the miserable limestone of his existence. He didn’t care that he had to get up for work in a few short hours. He didn’t even remember that this was the first day of his promotion. He just stayed there, unmoving…until the panic set in.

He was trapped in his nightmares again, worlds burning around him, no escape – no one around. The ground crumbled at his feet as he buried the bodies of his siblings, beckoning him into an early grave just the same, and he was about ready to subject himself to that same fate - until he heard her.

Her honey-like chirps were in his ears again, filling him with equal amounts of comfort and dread. How the hell had she got trapped here with him? Had he brought her here? Had he doomed her to his fate as if he were some ancient vengeful demon clawing youthful innocents down with him? He had to find her and push her out of this. He would not be the reason for her demise.

He couldn’t see her; she was far away – but he could hear her.

“You’re running late, Five.”

He ran around the ruins surrounding him, feeling his feet finally standing on solid ground as he got closer and closer to the sound of her voice. He looked in every room of every house that was still standing, pulling the rubble up from those that weren’t. This was the most strength he’d had in years.

“Let me know when you find me, I’ll be waiting.”

Five woke feeling as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him. He’d kicked away every sheet and pillow on the bed even though he was no where near them when he passed out – he must have thrashed around more than usual. In accounting for his surroundings, he found himself looking for her just as he was a few moments ago. She was nowhere to be seen.

He had to find her – to make sure she was okay. For all he knew, the ground could have swallowed her whole as it intended to do to him. It was his moral duty to ensure her safety, especially from him.

With his resolve steadied and his mind set, Five tried to stand, finding that his body failed him as he dropped to the floor with a rather comedic thud. He hadn’t eaten, he’d barely rested, and he expected to have the energy of a competent detective as opposed to Bambi? Imbecile.

Looking at the clock on his wall, he could see that it was about six in the morning, dawn hadn’t even broken yet. Meaning he had a few moments to compose himself and make himself presentable before facing a city and tracking down some innocent therapist.

He crawled his way over to the small kitchen of his apartment and managed to get himself a protein bar from off the side, figuring that it would be the only thing palatable that would help him retain his muscle mass in this situation. The second he could stand, he chugged a full glass of water and sprung (rather haphazardly) into action – stepping over his discarded laundry to find himself a newly pressed suit.

He was off like a greyhound.

Only, he had no clue where she lived.

Though, he was a detective and could technically just abuse what little power he had to find that out…he didn’t think of that, instead he stood outside the CIA offices – waiting to see if she’d be in today and which direction she would come from.

He hid himself for what felt like years, hanging out by a cleaning kart, adorning a stupid flat-cap and moustache as to ensure his disguise, as if that hid his easily-identifiable suit. In the time it took for even the caretakers to open the main building, she hadn’t arrived; Five was left alone with his thoughts – a dangerous situation to say the least.

He waited there thinking of how much of an inconvenience this was – ensuring the safety of a woman he’d love to say he cared nothing about. Five was well aware of the fine line between love and hate; it took too much energy to hate anyone, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to give this perky little graduate the satisfaction of his energy. His self-aware mind chose to ignore the blatant irony before it hit him between the eyes.

As the minutes crawled on, Five allowed his mind to dwindle ever so slightly into a depressive episode. Maybe it was the drop in hormones from his self-fuck-athon last night or maybe it was just the ordinary self-loathing that he was used to, but it felt familiar, comfortable even.

He wondered why the hell he gave two living shits about this woman and why he was going out of his way to seemingly destroy himself over her. Was it because she’s basically untouched - as if he’d put her in a sealed glass museum case so she could remain on display for him? Was it because she put him in his place as no one had done before - as if he were in the case? Or was it because she was his mirror image - and perhaps the case didn't even exist? He didn’t know. All he knew was that this was exhilarating and liberating – putting his skills to use once again for the ‘greater good’…and, after all, she had asked him to find her.

That’s when she turned the corner. Twenty-nine minutes past seven. Exactly. The way in which her feet carried her would mean she’d be buzzing her ID at precisely half past the hour - and she did, so he followed her.

She walked across the foyer and immediately summoned a lift. Fuck. He couldn’t go through that again; last time nearly killed him. He had to wait downstairs until she returned. He waited a full twenty minutes for her to return, ignoring how his heart raced as she exited the lift and headed to reserve her spot in the café line – noticeably sans her jacket and bag, carrying the precise amount of cash she needed.

She was a creature of habit…

…every deranged stalker’s wet dream.

She wore almost the same outfit as yesterday but had opted for a stronger hairclip. Her heels beckoned Five to cross the open marble floors with her, pulling him into a hypnotic trance as the sounds of her clacky footsteps sunk him into mental submission once again.  

He was enthralled.

It took all his might not to follow her; he was still wearing his stupid disguise. Although, he did consider that he only had ten minutes before starting work himself and he did need coffee. Having made the decision rather quickly, he disposed of his disguise behind a plant pot and straightened up before walking over to the café himself.

He tried to act aloof as he stood himself a few places behind her in the queue, feeling as though it was safer to observe her than it was to interact with her. She ordered the same drink as yesterday and waited in precisely the same spot, looking at the same menu she looked at the day before. Did she know he was watching? Was she putting on a seemingly boring show on purpose? Still, he couldn’t look away.

Five ordered his own coffee but slunk immediately into the corner as it was being prepared, knowing that she’d take the lift back up to her office after she’d collected the steamy cup. He knew all these things about her and yet couldn’t pull his eyes from her, finding a relief in knowing that she was living and breathing…in close proximity to him…where he could keep an eye on her.

She, as expected, collected her coffee and crossed the marble floor of the foyer again…only, this time, she opted to take the stairs. Seven floors worth of stairs. Why the hell..?

Five let his curiosity get the better of him and he followed her into the stairwell after collecting his own coffee, counting the steps she took as her kitten heels ascended the staircase. She only went up six floors. Six, not seven. He began to take the steps one by one and find out what had happened. What if she’d been hurt or had an emergency? No one would have known bar him. He had to know.

Why the ever loving fuck did he have to know?

He was in his sixties for fucks sake!

Spiting himself yet again, he tiptoed up the stairs until he got to the fourth floor, finally hearing her heels ascend to the seventh platform of the building – hearing the stairwell door open and drop shut.

Why did she wait?

Five didn’t have time to find out; he was now actually running late for his first assignment. Fuuuuuuck. First day on the job and he was already late, it was times like this that made him miss his powers. He’d done a similar thing when he had to present his thesis back in university, only there he’d got delayed at the tailors and wasn’t stuck obsessing over some frilly young filly in a tight skirt.

Racing up the remainder of the stairs to the tenth floor to receive his first instruction, Five managed to spill coffee on his tie. Great, new job, late, and a scruff.

He wanted to chop his dick off then and there – at least then he’d be on time.

His first meeting went okay after getting a bollocking about his timekeeping - oh, how blatant the irony. He was given his first solo-case, which was an honour coming from that specific supervisor. He’d also been given new authorities around the building. Finally, something worthy of his time and effort. Everything was going swimmingly until his supervisor pulled his therapy permission notes – the very same ones that she’d signed yesterday.

His dick twitched in his pants.

His breath was short.

He needed to see her.

He couldn’t finish the discussion on those notes quick enough, subduing himself to regular meetings with her and admitting that the help was useful. The help was anything but useful. In fact, it screwed him up and he hated it…but fuck, did he need screwing up. After being dismissed, he was told not to waste time on his case, taking himself under the advisement to go and read up on the suspects before doing any field work.

Yeahhhhh, no.

He went straight to the seventh floor, and hid in the stairwell.

He watched as clients turned the corner into her office and came out an hour later, taking note of which ones carried permission slips and which didn’t. He also listened as closely as he could for the shutting of her office door each time, but he never heard it. She never shut it. Neither did her clients. He did when he had an appointment.

Her clients were all older than her too, and not specified by gender. None of which seemed to leave in the state that he had left in only yesterday. Did she hate him? She should have hated him.

He wanted an appointment today. Seeing her weekly wasn’t enough. Though, it seemed to be too much for Five altogether. He wanted her, but he also wanted her dead. She was the only interesting thing about this new world, and she wasn’t even that special. This had to be his hormones ruling his brain. Oh, how he loathed his body.

He watched her intensely throughout the remainder of the day, doing his own research in corridors and stairwells just to catch glimpses of her…to follow the breadcrumb trail of her perfume as it lingered in the hallways. He rationalised this as though he were a zookeeper and she were merely a captive animal; he was on observation duty to ensure that she didn’t go off the rails.

Finding himself distraught when his office hours neared their end, Five gathered the waning remainder of his composure and submitted his findings for the day – careful not to mix up his notes. Couldn’t have his superior thinking that he was some creepy bastard.

He followed the young woman out of the building, she took the lift down this time and he nearly fell down the stairs, he watched as she removed her ID and placed it inside her coat pocket before walking back from whence she appeared this morning. It would be too much to follow her…

…but he did it anyway.

He stuck closely to her as she took herself about a ten minute walk from the offices and into a subway station. He didn’t follow her onto the train itself but he did notice precisely which line and which service she took. That was enough; he wasn’t crazy.

He didn’t care about this woman at all.

He took himself home buying only one item on the journey: pushpins.

He pinned her notes to the wall above his bed in hopes that these rhythmic actions of hers may instil enough routine in him to enforce sleep. She never needed to know about this, nor would she. He was just clinging to whatever predator-like urges he had from lives past. He was never going to hurt her. This way, at least he’d survive until Monday.

Which he did…only through stalking her through the offices and following her to and from her commute every morning… the actions of a completely sane mental patient.

However, he’d struggled at the weekend – finding himself in the same old, ritualistic fuck-athon that he did only a few days prior. Although now, he had the proof of her existence. She was now a constant variable; he’d never need to eliminate her.

By the time Monday came, Five was grateful that his suit hid his self-inflicted bruises. She’d definitely have something to say if she saw them and Five couldn't think of any valuable excuses. though he had made one achievement: he'd managed to keep his body alive and his dick down before running back to her office bright and early Monday morning, this time allowing himself the privilege of standing behind her in the café queue.

He was fucked.

They took the lift together again and not a single word was uttered until they broke the threshold of her office door. He didn’t need to hear her – it was probably best that he didn’t. He’d already been reprimanded for his behaviour in this office once, he didn’t need to be told again.

This time she broke the silence.

“Welcome back, Five. How was your week?” she said as she gestured for him to take a seat.

Ah - well actually, I’ve been fine thanks. No need to tell me how you’ve been; I stalked you round this office all last week and fucked myself over you when it was closed because my weak brain can’t comprehend your absence, you sick fuck.

“It was good, thank you, and yours?”

“Brilliant.”

She was toying with him. Already. He’d only been over the threshold for thirty seconds and she’d already sunk her teeth into his neck and was draining his life force straight out of his veins.

Ohhhhh fuck, he wanted her to drain him.

“I spoke to your supervisor the other day, he says you’re doing well. He thinks you’re ready for field work” she smiled out at him as she scribbled her one word on the top of a new page in her notebook.

“Do you?” were the only words that Five could muster – he hated himself for seeking her approval.

“You tell me.” She retorted, rather smugly.

How the fuck was he meant to know what she thought? Arrogant bitch. If he wanted to play this game he’d have done it the night previous in the confines of his bedroom. Not here, in the claustrophobic enclosure of her office.

God, she was truly useless as a therapist.

In protest, Five remained silent…for the remainder of the appointment.

As did she.

Though, she seemed rather more relaxed about it than he did – sipping her coffee with no lid, flicking back in the pages of her notebook. Five was sure that his heart must have stopped when she got up to crack open the window…sitting back down after her heels met the floor with that signature clack as his heart clung to the sound as it were seemingly the only one in the room save for his own laboured breaths.

She was going to send him into cardiac arrest.

Five soon realised that he found comfort within her silence, feeling his body relax into her own soft breaths and movements. He could have actually fallen asleep if it had been appropriate…and if his dick had him alone for even a millisecond. The angry twitching in his pants brought him closer and closer to the edge with every minute that passed. He could have quite easily cum untouched in that office and given himself a whole new Freudian complex to worry about.

Five couldn’t speak, nor did he want to. He had to hold his ground against her, to prove that he wasn’t the ‘easy case’. He wanted her to be offput enough to stay away, to reassign him to another therapist, to run away.

His skin was molten lava and she was blades of grass; he’d destroy her beauty at a moment’s notice with no capacity for remorse.

He'd turn her into the very same ash that clouded his brain and forced him to remember what he'd done to get himself here, the same one that invaded his lungs all those years ago. He'd end up making himself her fatal issue.

He stood as she did, reaching to shake her hand and signal the appointment over. He’d won, only – he hadn’t…again.

He didn’t let go of her hand…and she didn’t let go of his. Neither of them moved an inch. Five’s breathing was heavy and his jaw clenched tight. She was looking right at him, embedding herself into the prison of his soul – trapping herself there for all eternity, locking the cell door herself. Her lashes were long, her lips as sultry as he’d remembered, and her grip on him was firm. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Five couldn’t hold his breath any longer, the tension becoming too much for his brain and his dick to handle. If she’d have known what he’d been doing over the past week, she wouldn’t be holding him like this. The very act of him omitting that from her was the hellish and blatant proof as to why he didn’t deserve her or her endless patience.

He finally broke free, and bolted.

Five tried his best to steer clear of her after that, insisting that he didn’t follow her as she took her lunch break…though his will power didn’t last him long at all; he still ensured she made her train home.

The next few days showed Five himself as a predictable creature of habit. He continued to stalk the young woman, following her every move and then jerking off over it the second he got home. She was etched into him, and he’d chiselled her image there. His own hands had been the reason for this pathetic end, he'd allowed her to kill him.

Five's tension grew worse as the week went on, finding himself insatiable by the time Friday came around. He couldn’t have another episode this weekend…he needed something of hers – something to keep him sane. So, as any normal person would do, he intruded her office in her lunch break – finding her door open as it usually was.

He rummaged through her papers and sat in her desk chair, wondering how the hell she managed to find anything in this mess whilst also wondering if she’d accept him into it. He’d happily become part of her furniture.

That way she’d be able to make use of him.

He finally settled himself in the chair she takes their appointments in, practically melting into it, looking around lazily for her notebook. He couldn’t ignore his cock this time, feeling as though he’d cum dry if he didn’t do something now. After checking his watch, Five began to palm himself through the fabric of his trousers, feeling as though her eyes were on him as he closed his own.

He wanted her to watch him, to tell him what to do and how to do it, to force him to cum from her words alone.

He was grateful that she was on lunch or else she’d have heard his breathy moans of (dis)satisfaction and may have deemed him an injured bird that needed saving. He imagined her walking in and catching him, seeing her own dove in its chosen cage, getting off on the fact that its master has accepted it fully – knowing precisely what kind of deviant he is. Perhaps he was the zoo animal in need of observation.

He heard her again. She was in his ear as she always was, she sounded closer and even more pornographic than he’d remembered his imagination forming her.

“Having fun are we?”

Five felt himself nod in response as he imagined her arms snake over his shoulders, gripping the base of his neck as he palmed himself harder.

“Words, Five.”

“Yes…” he breathed out, allowing his head to drop back into her chest.

She was there.

Five panicked, jumping out of her chair as quickly as he could and turning to face her in absolute shame.

She’d caught him.

He’d miscalculated.

He’d just been touching himself in her office whilst trying to swipe her things…so that he could get off over her later on, and she’d seen it. He was doomed.

He wanted to bolt again, to change timelines and begin again…he wanted to kill himself and end their collective suffering. No amount of self-inflicted harm would ever atone for this shame; he had to die. His feet wouldn’t move as he waited to be reprimanded, feeling as though he deserved to feel hurt by her, wanting to be hurt by her. He’d just crossed an un-crossable boundary. Forget professionalism; he’d essentially just assaulted her.

She didn’t say a word, which left Five wondering if her seductive chirps had glued his ears shut, she just patted her chair and invited him to sit back down…

…so he did.

She moved across from him and perched herself on the coffee table, searching for his eyes. He couldn’t look at her but he also couldn’t look away from her. He was at her mercy now. She took his left hand again - the offending one, holding it in hers as she leaned over to drip honey into his ear once again:

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

link to: Chapter One

✦ chapter two??? yk what, hell yeah ✦

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[drama-glob]

Something I'm really anxious and eager to see is whether Satan will truly be an antagonist to Fizz and Ozzie's relationship like Mammon or if he'll be more on the neutral side as wrath can be seen as justifiable depending on the circumstances/if it channeled into something productive; I know he's calling someone a disgrace in that screenshot, but he could be saying it to Ozzie, Stolas or possibly even Mammon because I'm sure if he heard about Mammon leaving rather than fighting Ozzie, he'd be judging him for that. ;)

I have a feeling Satan will still likely lean towards the antagonistic side (unless his mind gets changed :/), but the fact of it being Ozzie vs Satan is something I find interesting because those two share several characteristics in common such as muscles (although it appears Satan will at least have more of that given Bee's remarks ;) ), height and literal fire power; we see too that when it comes to Ozzie's love for Fizz, he's fully capable of letting his anger out in order to protect Fizz or just express how he feels when Fizz is in danger. Ozzie is normally chill however as his sin pertains to lust/pleasure in general and to which he has already said shouldn't be about force, thus it would fall more into the wrath category (as well as pride and greed too) whenever it stops being about consensual sex/mutual enjoyment and turns into domination and control, which could be where Satan possibly sees Ozzie as weak despite the latter having the moral high-ground in this; Satan could also see Ozzie as weak because he sees love as making someone soft and is a weakness that can be exploited, but we admittedly don't know enough about Satan yet to know what his opinions about love are. :/ In the end though, having this potential confrontation between the two sins come down to them upholding the values of the sin they represent with Ozzie fighting for his right to love Fizz too (and thus showing love doesn't make you weaker) should be good. ^_^ (I already mentioned it in another post about how them fighting would make it be like love vs war, but it very well may still be case ;) ).

One a related note, it's also interesting is we've already seen lust and wrath be connected (at least when it involves infidelity being discovered) all the way back in episode one. O_O