#i have THOUGHTS. i have HALF A WEB WEAVE.

[plusultraetc]

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[poisonlove]

The Addams curse | w.a

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X reader

A/N: Okay, I admit it. I read a story that inspired me so much that I "stole" the idea

Wednesday was painfully aware of the curse she inherited from her family: the Addams curse. It was a curse that had existed since the 5th century, binding an Addams to their soulmate. A curse that would drive one to madness if rejected by that person, a madness that would torment them even after death.

As alluring as that last thought sounded, Wednesday didn’t want to become a slave to another person.

And she especially had things to do.

Just the thought of her father's expression when he looked at Morticia sent a warm, nauseating sensation to her stomach, a warmth that was far from pleasant. It was a reminder that in her life she would encounter… her other half. She would prefer to skin herself alive than to fall into this trap.

Because love was, in fact, a trap.

Thanks to reading a book about her family's history, she learned that the curse activated with the first contact with the destined person. A touch that sent thousands of electric shocks coursing through the body, a bond capable of quenching the thirst of her cursed soul.

That’s why she was averse to any contact: no one, ever, would trigger that curse to drag her into madness. She categorically rejected the idea of succumbing to temptation; she was even willing to kill the destined person, fully aware that she would die immediately afterward.

there was another side effect: if your soulmate died, you would follow them incapable of living without them.

Wednesday pressed her lips into a thin line.

That moment had arrived the instant she crossed the gates of Nevermore Academy. A warmth spread through her body and an annoying itch kept her on edge. Wednesday mentally cursed herself for having attacked students at her old school: at least she wouldn’t have anticipated her end. Her parents watched her with curiosity as they approached her new room and Wednesday tried to maintain an unreadable expression, fully aware that chaos reigned inside her.

Where her mother stayed in the past: Ophelia Hall.

As soon as they opened the door the itch intensified and something indefinable vibrated in the air. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the curse or the fact that she had entered a painfully colorful room. A girl immediately sprang up from the bed, a smile stretching from ear to ear as her blonde hair with blue and pink streaks danced toward their direction. Another girl sat cross-legged on the bed to the girl to far too… enthusiastic.

There it was again, that annoying itch.

“Hi, roommate!” the blonde exclaimed excitedly.

Wednesday felt nauseated, a wave of discomfort tightening her stomach in a cold grip. It was a new sensation for her. She felt her throat constrict, the urge to vomit ready to explode but the lack of food ingested that morning left her with only a painful emptiness, like an abyss sucking her from within. With a shiver she realized that the nausea wasn’t caused by hunger but by the curse that poisoned her insides, slithering through her veins like a subtle venom.

Oh no.

The impression of tiny spiders weaving her stomach from the inside sent a chilling shiver through her, insinuating itself between her bones. Every thread of that imaginary web seemed to tighten around her, making every breath harder than the last. The sensation of being trapped, of losing control, terrified her in a way she would never admit to anyone. Wednesday found herself immobile; perhaps "paralyzed" was the best word.

“Are you okay? You look... pale,” the blonde said with concern.

Other eyes turned in her direction.

“Oh… Wednesday always looks half dead,” her father commented with an ironic smile.

Her mother’s hand rested on her shoulder, giving her a quick squeeze, a gesture that could have seemed comforting but for Wednesday was a reminder of the distance between them.

But inside, Wednesday felt a turmoil boiling in her chest. A raw, primitive energy surged through her like an electric current, making her muscles tremble. Paradoxically, it was the first time she felt so… alive. That pain, that sense of oppression and that devastating nausea had awakened an intensity she had never experienced before. It was as if the curse was showing her the limits of her humanity, forcing her to feel closer to life, precisely because she was on the brink of her annihilation.

If her mother hadn’t placed her hand on her shoulder, she probably would have fainted.

“I understand,” the blonde mumbled, a look of confusion on her face. “Anyway, I’m Enid, and that over there is my best friend Y/N,” she exclaimed enthusiastically.

Y/N timidly waved her hand as a greeting.

“I’m happy to meet you!” Enid exclaimed, filled with bubbly happiness, opening her arms and walking toward her.

Wednesday’s eyes widened and she quickly took a step back to avoid contact. The itch had appeared as soon as she entered this room and the gothic girl didn’t know if it was the blonde girl who was the possible cause. There was also the chance that it was the other girl, Y/N, but honestly she didn’t want to know in any case.

Enid slowed down and looked at her with disappointment.

“Oh… I see you’re not a hugging person,” she mumbled weakly, still wearing a big smile on her lips.

“Do you like the room?” she asked curiously, her eyes so bright it seemed like she had two stars instead of irises.

“No,” Wednesday replied venomously.

“Sorry… Wednesday… is allergic to colors,” her father justified and Enid raised her eyebrows in confusion.

“What does it do to you?” she asked weakly.

“My flesh is peeling off my bones,” Wednesday replied in a flat tone, her lips reduced to a thin line. She felt the itch slowly fade but the annoyance remained on her. A faint laugh reached her ears, forcing her to turn toward Enid’s best friend. “Sorry… that was funny,” the latter stammered trying to justify herself as her cheeks flushed.

Wednesday stared at her intensely, a visceral hatred bubbling within her.

“Well… I’ll go now,” Y/N mumbled weakly. The girl got up from the bed and Wednesday found herself analyzing her quickly: tall, slender, long y/c hair and eyes of the same color. A smile resided on her lips and the goth felt as if her own were about to rise in reflex

she held back.

“It was nice to meet you,” she mumbled timidly.

Y/N passed by her and the proximity was enough to awaken the unsettling sensation gripping her insides. But luckily for Wednesday, it lasted only a few seconds.

(...)

Nevermore turned out to be much more fascinating than Wednesday had imagined: gorgons, werewolves, sirens, vampires and all the other creatures that populated the world of outcasts. However, what intrigued her the most was the series of murders wreaking havoc in the quiet town of Jericho. A frenzy of curiosity filled her; she felt inspired.

She longed to discover the identity of the killer, continue her novel about Viper and investigate any mystery that could be connected to her ancestor Goody Addams.

She would think about escape later.

Regarding her curse, Wednesday had narrowed it down: Enid, Y/N, and Yoko. Tayler and Xavier had quickly been eliminated from her list. Tayler for covering her mouth during the excursion in the woods to avoid being discovered by Sheriff Galpin and Xavier for taking her to the infirmary when she fainted. In both cases, she hadn’t felt anything, a total absence of emotions.

But Y/N was different. She was almost 80% sure that you were her soulmate.

Every time they spoke, even if she could detect a note of sarcasm in your responses to her icy remarks, she felt a palpable energy between you two, an electric current that seemed to draw her closer to you. Her eyes couldn’t tear away from yours and an unbearable fire exploded in her chest. She found herself experiencing mental blackouts lost in your gaze and on more than one occasion she had even stammered. She hated the curse, hated herself, and above all, hated you.

But what got her into trouble were her thoughts crowding her mind like a chorus of impatient voices: Take her hand, kiss her, find out if you are her damn ruin. These thoughts didn’t manifest with Enid or Yoko. With Enid, there was a weak itch, a sense of comfort but not attraction, probably because they were roommates. And Yoko? Well, she was simply a friend of Enid and Y/N.

Wednesday blinked and directed her gaze back to her plate.

The goth found herself having lunch at a table with her roommate's group. Despite loving solitude, she found herself amidst Enid and Yoko, with Y/N sitting in front of her, a calm expression on her face.

The buzzing continued.

Wednesday was close to Enid, so close that their shoulders brushed against each other. Anxiety gripped her stomach but she needed to narrow down the list, she wanted to know: she bit her lower lip and decided to eliminate the distance by leaning her weight against Enid's shoulder.

Nothing.

“Oh, sorry,” Enid shifted.

Wednesday furrowed her brow. Why hadn’t anything happened? Maybe the contact needed to last longer? Should she hold her hand or something? The goth extended her hand and placed it on the blonde’s arm.

Nothing.

She quickly fell into a panic, the electricity increasing around her and decided to touch Yoko.

Absolutely nothing.

“Do you want to kill me? Did you touch garlic with those hands?” Yoko asked, panicking as she looked at Wednesday through her sunglasses.

“I don’t think so… You would have already burned,” Y/N commented playfully. Wednesday looked up and locked eyes with Y/N. This only meant one thing... Her suspicions were true.

It was you.

You were her soulmate.

Oh, fuck it.

[slasherscream]

Crazy Ass Girls Gang ft. what type of yandere are they

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine / clingy, obsessive, manipulative 

You'd better be damn sure you want to be with Tiffany before you ever bring up dating her because there is no escape once you've embarked on the exciting journey of being her romantic partner.

But if we're being honest you never really had a choice. You think you met organically? Became close by fate? No, Tiffany saw you and wanted you and decided to have you.

It was love at first sight on her part.

You'll be friends for a few months as she weaves the inescapable web around you. Best friends, actually. You'll tell her absolutely everything about yourself. Learn everything about her in turn. It's pure bliss to have a friend like Tiffany. Supportive, charming, affectionate.

You can tell she loves you more than anything. Loves you more than anyone else has ever loved you before, and she isn't afraid to show it.

You probably already had a partner when you met Tiffany. She was heartbroken when you first told her. The heartbreak didn't last long. Why cry over spilled milk? She wants to take it slow with you anyways, make sure that this time every aspect of the life you build together will be perfect.

She's come in too heavy before. You can't rush perfection, her mother always told her. For you, the lesson is finally worth learning.

Everything can be a tool. In the right hands. And Tiffany's hands? Why, they're incredibly skilled. She uses your soon-to-be-ex as a diving board for your upcoming relationship with her. Even if you'd been perfectly content with the relationship until you met Tiffany, suddenly everything is awful.

Tiffany points out every mistreatment. Every cancelled date. Every strange tone they used when talking to you. Every shitty, unoriginal gift. Every moment they weren't enthusiastic enough about good news you had to share.

It gets to the point where you can't even look at them half the time. You'll end dates with your partner early just to go spend more time with Tiffany: "What do you think they meant when they said that, Tiff?" / "I think they forgot who they were talking to, sweetheart! They're lucky I wasn't around or I would've cut out their tongue."

Tiffany has you so wrapped around her finger she's not even the one who suggests the break up. She was still going to wait a month or two before she began to truly push.

But when you show up at her doorstep in the middle of the night, holding flowers and her favorite takeout, rambling about how you've been so blind and it's always been Her...

Well, she has to smile as she pulls you in, savoring the last first kiss your lips will ever gift another soul.

She almost forgot how good she is at getting what she wants.

Jordan Li / protective, obsessive, lucid

You're so sweet. It was the first thought Jordan remembers having about you. The beginning of the end. They haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that one fatal moment.

Jordan has plenty of other things to think about. Things that should outclass you in importance easily. Their ranking, Brink's careful mentoring, their grades. They tell themselves that it all still matters more than you but they know they're lying to themselves.

It scares them a little, how much they actually think about you. Not a minute can go by without their thoughts drifting to you.

Did you eat today? / Your next class is in ten minutes, let me walk you, I've got the time. / You were running out of your favorite perfume. Got you a new bottle. / You look upset. Did someone fucking say something to you?

They can't help the way they hover around you during every spare moment they can find.

Jordan knows your schedule by heart to maximize the amount of time you can spend together. It's a balancing act they have to play with their brain for the simplest of tasks: you can spend the rest of the day with Y/N but you have to finish grading these essays first.

They can't function properly when they go too long without you. They swing on their sparring partners too hard. Stare at the clock during lectures instead of listening. They rip textbooks and snap pens by holding them too tight.

Sometimes they have to give up and call you. If they can't go and see you for whatever reason the sound of your voice makes it better. Hearing you talk, the sound of you breathing, laughing. It helps. Calms the buzz beneath Jordan's skin. They dial your contact, glaring into space as they wait for you to pick up. As soon as you do their body relaxes.

They recognize that their behavior isn't normal. Always needing to know where you are, who you're with. Feeling sick when they don't know.

You're like a drug for Jordan. They know you're an addiction, the way you've crawled under their skin. No high on earth compares, and Jordan has fucking compared them all. They pull you into their lap, as close as they can get you and it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough.

"Please don't fucking go anywhere, yeah?" Jordan will mumble into the skin of your neck. Their grip on you is too tight, face twisted at the desperation they feel. It's not pillow talk. They're begging. Genuinely. They'd do anything to keep you this close, always.

"Of course not, Jordie." You coo back. They close their eyes and pretend the words are enough. Nothing ever is.

Nancy Downs / delusional, possessive, obsessive

As soon as Nancy wants you there's no other option for you besides her. You can either choose to go along with it or you can fight it.

Fighting against her is like fighting against the tide, though. You can tread water for awhile. Keep your head afloat, sure. But eventually you'll get tired. Nature wins. Besides, fighting against Nancy becomes unpleasant fast. Being hers is so much nicer. She's gentler that way, kinder.

You're allowed to have friends, she doesn't isolate you completely.

It's just your old friends sucked. They didn't appreciate you. Didn't look out for you. Selfish users just like everyone else. Moths are always drawn to the light, and she'll kill every moth that strays a little too close to you, before it ever gets a chance to singe itself on your warmth. It's a mercy, really. Living a life in the darkness and having one brief moment in the sun is miserable. Nancy should know. It almost drives her crazy when you're not around. If you ever left she'd want to be put out of her misery too.

Her coven, though? They're perfect. Her coven is a family. And you were the last missing piece of it.

Anything about your old life, the life before her, can be viewed as a threat at a moment's notice. Family. Friends. Memories you speak of a little too fondly. Even a hobby could do it. She wants your focus to be her. It's only fair, her only focus is you.

Even when she's not around. Even when you're completely alone you swear you can feel her eyes on you. Her magic drifting against your skin as if she was sitting right beside you.

Nancy's intensity can be scary but she makes anyone else's love seem dull in comparison.

Who else could love you like she does? Who else would die for you? Nancy wouldn't even have to think about it first. All she asks in return is for you to do the same. Live for her. Dedicate every breathe in your lungs to her.

It's not so hard, she'll lead by example.

Jennifer Check / manipulative, possessive, clingy

She couldn't give a shit about anyone else but you. Somehow you managed to sneak your way into her heart and she can't let go of you. Won't let go of you. You're the only thing that's keeping that small, soft, human part of her alive. You dragged that bit of her back from the grave she put it in, actually. So it wouldn't be fair for you to try and leave, after you made her weak again. Human again.

Her world revolves around you. Her priorities are her next meal and you. Of course she gets pissed off if you don't reciprocate her energy. Look at her, how could you ever put anything above her?

Jennifer wants you to be everything to each other, though she won't say it out loud. It shows in her actions.

You belong to her. Every version of yourself that exists in the world should belong to her. The version of you that you are when you're someone's best friend. When you're someone's partner. It's all hers. She won't let anyone else take root in your life in a role that she can fill. She'll do a better job anyways.

The enormity of her ego and the way she clings might seem at odds. She thinks she's a God walking amongst fucking cattle. But she sticks to you like a second skin. A hand always at your waist. Her lips always chasing yours, whining when you don't give in fast enough, when you don't melt like she does. Her grip iron clad when you hold hands. If you pull away too soon from a hug, from a kiss, she bites, she holds on with claws.

She coos at the marks she leaves on your skin and kisses all the scratches and bruises she leaves better. / "I'm sorry baby, you know I hate letting you go."

Carrie White / idolizer, protective, selfless

Not in her wildest dreams did Carrie think anyone could be as kind as you. People are cruel. Their first instinct is to cause hurt before they'll ever reach out a hand to help, to shield, to love.

But you're not like that at all. You're something ripped straight from a fairy-tale. The rare ones that her Mother let her read, that weren't hiding devil worship between their poetic words.

You're so patient with her. So gentle. You treat her like glass. You hold her close, and kiss her soft, and cup her face in your hands that are always so warm.

You say you love her in a breathless way, every time. Like even expressing how much you care makes you dizzy. As if she overwhelms you. She feels dizzy herself as she hangs on your every honeyed word. Clings to you every time you reach out your hands to hold her.

Carrie doesn't know if she believes in God nowadays, but if she did you'd be an angel sent straight from heaven. A gift, maybe, to make up for all the years of torment she endured from everyone she'd ever known.

She'd think you were some kind of God yourself, if you had any sort of abilities like her. But you don't. You walk around doing what's right, being good down to the marrow of your very bones just because it's who you are. You greet the world with your fists raised and you're only human, and it scares Carrie so much.

You're the last decent person alive and you'll throw yourself onto any pyre you see if it means doing what's right. Carrie loves that about you. It terrifies her.

So Carrie throws herself into the ring with you. Your sweet, gentle Carrie who you're always trying to protect. But Carrie doesn't need your protection. She's not the helpless little girl she used to be. She won't let anything hurt either of you, from now on. For the rest of your lives you'll be safe, happy. Together. Carrie would burn the world to ash if it meant not a scratch would befall you.

"You're an angel, Y/N. The most wonderful angel God ever made."

Ginger Fitzgerald / possessive, impulsive, protective,

Sometimes Ginger wishes everyone else in the world would disappear, besides the two of you. They're a hindrance.

She feels insane when she watches you. She feels her claws come out and makes herself bleed as she fights against the instinct to rip out every tongue that speaks to you, and every pair of eyes that's ever looked into yours.

She shivers when you claim her. The only time she enjoys being around other people now is when you're introducing her: "This is Ginger, my girlfriend." "This is Ginger, my partner." "This is Ginger, my best friend." "This is Ginger, my everything."

She loves being yours. Relishes in the way you say the word mine. She wants to lick the words from your mouth, the weight of your total ownership over her sweet and poisonous.

She wonders if you get the same pleasure from belonging to her. She wants you to. She wants to carve her name into your skin with her claws and have you moan at the first sharp sting of the letter G.

It's primal, the way she wants you. Beyond anything humans have words for. She leaves her scent on your skin and wants to growl when you wash it away with artificial soaps and perfumes. She sucks bruises into every inch of you that anyone else could see.

She wants you to do the same. Wants to roll onto her back and expose her neck, and have you bite so hard you draw blood.

Ginger's wanting comes with teeth. What she is demands she sinks her teeth into things, that she draws blood. Even when she loves you. Because she loves you, maybe. She needs to leave a mark on you. She needs to always be there. She needs the same from you.

Needs you to leave scars on her that she can touch when you're not around. Proof that you were there. Proof that you're coming back. You don't carve your name into things and then abandon them. When you own things you keep them.

When you're gone the world goes dim and cold. She couldn't survive in a world without you. She wouldn't even attempt it. What would be the fucking point?

"We're a pair. We belong to each other. Always, yeah?"

[screamforyani]

cariño

warnings ↠ dubcon-ish?, enemies with benefits, handjob, edging, implied intercouse towards the end

a/n ↠ i know this is very out of the blue but i watched atsv and i cant get miguel out of my head

wc. 1.1k

“untie me,” hissed miguel, fangs jutting as his blood-thirsty eyes followed you. 

you let out a hollow laugh the second those words escaped his mouth and met his penetrating stare. to say you and and miguel were enemies would be an understatement. there was something about this guy that irked you in the worst way, but could also turn you on like no other.

the feeling was mutual. you’d never admit a word of this if it wasn’t - not even to yourself. you and miguel had a weird thing going on, the sort of thing where the line between hate and lust grew thinner with each dark, loathing stare he shot you. 

maybe you’d had his cock in you a couple of times. twelve, to be exact, though not that you were counting (because you totally weren’t). not your proudest moments, but the sight of him on his knees, tangled in a weaving of webs made you forget it. his muscles bulged with every endeavor to free himself from your little trick. which was hilarious, because if they were any tighter, they’d burst right through his spandex. 

not that you were complaining. 

“hm, let me think about it,” you hummed, pretending to be deep in thought. “no.”

“i said - untie me. now,” miguel roared, as if it would make any difference. 

you crouched before him, pouting. “what’s the matter, spider-man? can’t handle other people telling you no? you don’t get to be the boss of everyone, cariño.”

you waved your finger in his face, to which miguel responded to with a lean forward as if he were going to bite your wrist off, but you were too quick. 

“woah there, bitey,” you taunted. “get it? that rhymes with spidey. hilarious, don’t you think?”

miguel spat, “you annoy me.”

“it’s a pleasure,” you said, merely grinning. then, you pointed to the extended talon behind his back where his hands were tied, asking, “can i borrow that? thanks.”

you used his talons to poke a hole in the lower half of his suit, promptly tearing at the spandex until the hole expanded. miguel wasn’t exactly pleased, not yet anyways, barking, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“more than you deserve,” you whispered, widening the gap until his half-hard cock was freed. that you inevitably already saw. for obvious reasons, it was difficult for spider-men to conceal their hard-ons. “you guys freeball under these suits? that’s crazy. i mean, not that you’re gonna catch a hard-on fighting the spot, but you never know. i mean, what if some really sexy villain just hits… the spot. get it? the-”

“the spot. yes, i get the joke. shut the hell up,” miguel grumbled, irritated.

you giggled. his annoyed face was too hot. of course, you were riling him up on purpose.

licking a line down your palm, you gently grabbed his cock, stroking him in your hands while looking him in his angry eyes. you saw his features tense, the part that didn’t want to be angry surfacing. the part that wanted to be relieved.

that was all that was wrong with this cranky guy. he just needed some relief in his life, and who better to provide it to him than you, the spider-person he never wanted on this team in the first place but took in because jess had insisted you could be useful. and you were, in more ways than one. not that miguel would ever admit that, though.

“fuck,” miguel grunted, writhing again, though not in an attempt to escape. you knew how to pleasure him and that was your saving grace, but you also knew how to tease. “could you be any slower with that?”

“i could, actually. watch this,” you retorted, now pumping him in no particular hurry. you had time to waste.

your leisure movements were killing miguel slowly. literally. he groaned, “well, could you go any faster?”

“i could,” you repeated with a lilt. “but you’d have to say the magic word.”

“go faster!”

you gave him a mocking frown. “i don’t think that’s it, o’hara.”

“do i have to?”

“do you want to cum?”

miguel winced his eyes closed, heaved a huge sigh, and huffed, “please, go faster.”

“wow, you hit the lottery,” you said, quickening your pace. you loved watching his brows furrow with pleasure, sweat beading at his face.

miguel bit his lip, wanting to be mad at how you satisfied him. it reminded you of when he was buried balls deep inside of you, his weight resting on top of your chest while his teeth clamped into your shoulder, not for the purpose of extracting blood but to smother the sounds of pleasure that escaped him when your cunt was squeezing his dick. almost like he would rather die than let you know you were good for something.

it didn’t matter, though. the telltale signs of arousal manifested themselves in plentiful ways from his body, like the taut ache in his pants when you turned him on a little too much. he got so hard for you, it was ridiculous.

and you were having a ball (you were tempted to make a joke, but resisted for his mental sake). there was something about having an insanely large, strong man who could potentially crush you to smithereens squirming at your mercy. it made warmth spread through your chest and the slyest grin curl onto your lips.

miguel’s hips were thrusting into your palm, an obvious sign that he was on the brink of climax. you’d come to know it by now - he started to lost control, the reins slipping out his hands. and you loved it. you loved how he was a slave to his urges and not the other way around.

“you almost there?” you asked, in spite of being fully aware. 

miguel offered you no words, but the look on his face and his unstill, restless body said enough.

that was when you got the bold idea to withdraw your hand at the very last second, depriving him of what could have been. his wrath was instant. you saw his hips flail in a desperation you’d never seen of him before, his fluttering eyes snapping open to cut at you.

“oopsies,” you sang, smiling innocently.

that was the very last straw for miguel and he broke out of your restraints, having enough of playing weak. you gasped, caught off-guard when he switched on a dime, throwing you against the ground and hovering over you. you parted your lips to speak, but he was quick to shoot a web over your mouth. 

“you talk too much,” miguel growled, cutting your own spandex with his talons, and was pleased to find you were very wet. he fixed himself between your thighs, leaning into your ear to whisper, “and for the record, nobody decides if i cum, cariño.”

[reidmotif]

Regret on the Rocks

Summary: Spencer finds himself at a bar being served by the girl who once broke his heart. Turns out she feels a lot more than just regret for letting him go.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Light Angst/Smut

Content Warning: drinking, Spencer is a little depressed, mentions of heavy bullying (specifically 3x16), car sex, female masturbation, Spencer POV, heavy kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Regret is an emotion I’m well accustomed to. It’s not to mean that I’m unhappy with my life by any means, but I’m aware of the space between my current situation and the ‘beyond’ that could’ve been if things had just been different. 

If I’d never joined the BAU.

If I’d had a more conventional life in the first place.

If connection came to me as easy as it seemed to other people my age. 

But none of those things seemed to ring true, so I carried regret in me like a bruise of honor. Despite the regret, I faced it every day and lived to do it all over again in the morning. It didn’t mean it was easy, and today proved that. Today, it was hard going to sleep knowing I’d wake up to do it all over again. 

In light of this, I’d found myself in a bar, alone. The case we’d been working on saw little to no fruition despite our efforts, and it’d resulted in another body we couldn’t save. Another person I was responsible for. It weighed down on me more than I cared to admit. 

I found myself continually lost in my thoughts, navigating through the carefully weaved web of guilt and self-doubt, spiraling, until a much softer, surprised voice pulled me out. 

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?” She asks. I hear her voice before I see her, and I know that it’s the bartender stood behind the bar, and there’s confusion as I wonder who could’ve possibly recognized me in a rundown small-town bar.

I look up and meet her eyes, and it’s as if a flood of memories ensues. A flash of recognition crosses my face, and seeing the images playing in my head, almost akin to a film reel, slowly walking me through one of my earliest regrets. 

I was 15, navigating my senior year while being the youngest one there. Despite the oddness of my situation, it never crossed my mind that I shouldn’t have tried so hard to participate in the same social events as my peers. With the hindsight of adulthood, I now imagine that if I had withdrawn, spent more of my time alone than trying to not be,  the hurt of never being accepted would sting less, because I’d never had tried in the first place.

But I had tried, and she was the only one who got me. She was older, yes, and beautiful and popular,  but those didn’t matter half as much as the conversations we’d manage to have. She never seemed to take offense to any ramble of mine, and I’d feel my heart soar when she’d ask questions after my monologues, sending me the clearest signals of interest in what I had to say.

And as a lonely 15 year old? It meant the absolute world to have that. To have her as my friend.

And so, when it came time for senior prom, in the interest of at least trying to fit in, I asked her to go with me. As friends of course, but even then she shook her head, and ruefully told me someone else had asked her. I vaguely recalled the name she’d given me off of a football roster I’d once read while attending the school, and nodded. I understood. I was prepared for the rejection, in fact I’d already taken it the moment she said no. I was prepared to live with it.

Then came the week before prom. Being lured away from the safety of the campus, and onto a football field. Being tied to a flagpole, while everyone watched- and laughed. I remember seeing a face, his face, knowing he was the one who was taking her. Taking (Y/N) to the prom. 

I rarely dwell on the events of that day, but I do remember the regret. I remember wondering that if I’d just never spoken to her, I’d maybe have been less of a target. I wondered if maybe I’d never asked her in the first place, maybe our friendship could’ve survived the whole ordeal, but it hadn’t. She never spoke to me after that, her head hanging low as she continued to hang off of his arm, never sparing me another glance again. 

But here she was, glancing- no, staring at me, her eyes wide. 

“What are you doing here? Are you.. Did you always live here all along?” She asks, her voice uncharacteristically soft and mellow. She was loud back in high school, I remember. She had the best laugh I’d ever known. 

It takes me a second, but I give her a flat smile, setting my glass down. “I’m here for a case, actually.” 

“A case..?” She says, her head tilting a bit in confusion. 

Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah, a case. I’m an FBI agent. I’m here for a recent string of murders being committed in the area.” 

“Wow, FBI, huh? I never thought of you as law enforcement.” She says, her eyebrows raising. “Always thought you were going to change the world with that brain of yours.” She adds, a small smile on her face. My eyes narrow in distrust at the sudden compliment, unsure of her intentions. 

“I’d say I’m changing the world.” I respond, a little defensively. “I like my job. I like that I change lives by not letting them end.”

She immediately retracts her statement, vehemently shaking her head. “No, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, of course you’re changing the world- I just thought you’d be doing more. Okay- not more. I just- Gah. I swear, don’t take it the wrong way.” She pauses, before gesturing to herself.  “I mean, I have no room to talk.” She says, the words a little rushed and frantic. 

“What do you mean, no room to talk?” I ask, squinting in genuine confusion. 

“I mean, I work as a bartender. I don’t know what I want from life, but it’s certainly not this.” She says, motioning to the shelves of drinks behind her, a little defeated. 

She’s so different from when I knew her. Self-assured. Confident. She seemed almost meek in this environment, and the only recognition of the girl I knew came from the small, embarrassed smile she gave me.

“Well. We’re a lot more alike than you think, then. Titles mean nothing.” I say, voice a bit quieter. “I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, though. We’re just getting through life the best we can, right?” 

She nods a little, seeming to take comfort in my statement. “Look at you. You’ve still got the same sweetness in you from high school.” 

Stiffening at the mention of high school, I just nod and taking another sip from the glass in front of me, which was starting to empty out. “Not trying to be sweet, I think. Just honest.” I say, bluntly.

It’s mean, I’m aware. I can feel her trying, but I don’t want to offer her the same. I want her to feel awkward. I want her to know what she did was wrong. 

There’s a silence that passes through the two of us, before she breaks it with a continued gesture of kindness, turning around to fill another glass with my drink of choice and setting it down in front of me, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“For being honest then. Thank you.” She says, and her eyes meet with mine. I almost hear the unspoken apology in her voice, in the way her fingers slowly push the chilled glass towards my empty hand, in the way she bites her lip softly, waiting to see what I’d say.

“To being honest.” I say, raising the glass slightly and downing the drink a little faster than I intended, not wanting to think too much about the implications of the gesture. To know that she possibly had regrets too. That she might still have the goodness I once knew in her. 

“I have about half an hour left in my shift, but if it’s alright, I’d love to catch up properly.” She says, keeping her gaze trained on mine. “I’ve.. missed you.” She says, her voice soft. 

I don’t respond to her last statement, but I can’t deny the magnetic pull begging me to say yes to her request, to at least see where our lives had gone after our separation. So I nod, silently.

“I’ll be here.” 

I try to lay off the drinks for the next thirty minutes, opting to sip some water instead to clear my mind in preparation for the time I’d be spending with her. Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have accepted the invite at all. It wasn’t that I forgave her per say,  but the curiosity to know her all over again was overwhelming, regardless of the pain she’d caused me. I’m once again reminded why “curiosity killed the cat” is such an overused aphorism.

She comes up to me thirty-six minutes later, and I hate myself for keeping track. She flashes me a small smile. 

“You waited.” She says, softly. 

“I said I would, right?” I respond, unsure why that would mean anything to her. I agreed to this. I wanted this, even if I could physically feel the inner turmoil brewing throughout my body. I suppose it didn’t show though, because she continued on, smiling. 

“There’s an ice cream place I like around here. Would you like to go?” She asks, and I see her teeth catch onto her bottom lip, the plumpness of the feature being exacerbated by the action, causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought. 

“Uh. Yeah, ice cream. Sounds good.” I say, placing my hands in my pockets. 

“Did you drive here? I mean- I hope not. You drank quite a bit.” She says, starting to walk to the exit of the bar. 

“No, no. My hotel is actually right here. I walked. Needed to get my mind off some things and I ended up here since it was convenient.” I say, and I feel myself falling back into that comfortable rhythm of just being able to speak freely around her. 

It’s like no time has passed at all, and yet I’m acutely aware that nothing is the same. That we’re avoiding a bigger issue at hand. 

“Yeah.” She murmurs. “The murders around here have been grisly, haven’t they?” She says, starting to lead me to her car. “I get nervous when I hear about that stuff, so I find myself looking away from the news more often than not.” She continues, quirking her mouth to the other side, as if she’s aware this isn’t the best course of action, but does it anyway.

“It’s cute.” I think.

I push the thought away. 

“Understandable.” I reply, nodding. “I don’t watch the news either. I mean- I do read the news. But I don’t watch it.” 

She starts the car, and I observe a hint of a grin on her face, her eyes crinkling at the edges in a way that makes my heart jump. “So you still like to read then?” She says, seeming genuinely happy I’d kept up the habit even after my youth. 

“Oh yeah. I mean, reading isn’t something I really ever let go of. It’s a good activity when you’re out on the road so much.” I say, feeling solace in talking about something I truly loved. “Sometimes I feel like books provide me with better stimuli than social interaction.” I continue, unaware of the implications of my words, and I only realize once I’ve seen her raise an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but I mean. Friends are good too, right?” She says, a hint of concern making her way into her voice. 

I chuckle a little bitterly. “Probably. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have my team, and I’m grateful but-” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t come to me like that, you know? And I’m not bothered by it, but I don’t like to think about it.” I say. There’s a faint feeling of heat on my face from the honesty, but I continue to stare straight ahead, not wanting to see her reaction to my words. 

“You were a good friend to me, Spencer. Better than a lot of the friends I had in high school, and I’m not just saying that.” She says, softly. 

I respond without thinking, shaking my head with an embittered motion and a click of my tongue.

“Yeah, and look where that got me.” 

She’s a little silent then, and I refuse to say anything else. She’s the one who invited me here. I don’t know what she wanted out of this, but I wasn’t going to forego my own feelings just to spare hers. I was here. That was enough. I was allowed to say that. 

We pull into an empty parking lot, where I see the neon lights advertising an ice cream parlor, but we don’t get out. She turns off the headlights and blows a bit of air between her lips, placing her hands in her lap and turning towards me. 

“Spencer.” She murmurs, swallowing a bit. “I am so, so sorry for what I did in high school. I know I wasn’t there when.. You know when. And I know I didn’t speak to you afterwards, and I am so sorry.” She repeats. “I hope you believe me when I say I really did miss you. I was such an idiot back in high school, and nothing can repair that, but I missed you so much.” She says. 

I turn to her and can see the tears welling up in her eyes and feel my heart soften. It’s insane, the effect she can have on me, even years later. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” I say, immediately reaching over to wipe a tear from her cheek, my thumb swiping over the expanse of her smooth skin. “It’s just high school. It’s a long time ago.” 

“No.” She says, emphatically, shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me. What I did was awful. It doesn’t matter if it was long ago. You can call me a bitch. You can- scream or hell! I don’t know. You can be angry at me. You should be angry at me. I could never say sorry enough.” She says. 

I shake my head, all the previous resentment and bitterness dissipating instantly. It was a bit odd, feeling the emotions I’d long held onto even years after our fracture go away so quickly, but she was my friend. For what it had been worth, she had been good to me.  And right now, she was my friend, crying in a car, and the guilt and shame couldn’t be more obvious. 

I move to hold her hand, wanting to comfort her, rubbing small circles into the skin near her thumb, her fingers grasping over mine, almost afraid to let me go now.

“You’re right, in a way. What you did confused me and left me feeling really.. lonely. But now that I’m older I think I better understand it, but it doesn’t change the fact you hurt me.” I reply, and I see her jaw tighten, nodding and taking my words to heart. 

“But I don’t think I resent you anymore for what happened.” I continue, the words tumbling out. “Seeing you guilty and ashamed so many years later is just making me wish we’d talked earlier, so we wouldn’t have had to feel this way for so long. Maybe we could’ve.. I don’t know. Picked up where we left off.” 

She gives me a flat smile, tears still in her eyes. “Yeah? I’d have liked that.” She murmurs. 

“I mean it.” I say, flashing her a soft smile. I decided to lighten the conversation for her comfort. 

“Doesn’t mean I won’t call you an idiot for dating that prick though.” I respond, a little teasingly, hoping to get a bigger smile out of her. 

“Oh god.” She says, leaning back, laughing a bit. “Please do. God, he was so .. awful.” She says. “He wasn’t half as funny as you. Just.. boring honestly.” 

I smirk a little at the words, feeling a bit of pride but brushing it off with a shrug. “I mean, it's a cliche right? Beautiful, smart girl with the boring jock?” I say. “You and like, 6 out of 10 high school girls probably fall directly into that category.” 

She gives me a laugh at that one, a real one, and my heart soars upon the sound alone. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her.

 “6 out of 10? Where’s that statistic from? High School Girls Anonymous?” She responds, matching my energy and continuing the banter.

“Just trust me. I know these things very well.” I say, trying my best to sound as faux academic as possible, hoping to make her feel at ease, to fully let go of the tension from before.

“Well, then.” She says, softly, turning the conversation to be a bit more sincere. “I’m glad I don’t fall into that cliche anymore. I’m glad my taste changed.” 

I nod, surprisingly relaxing into the vulnerability of the words. “Yeah, it happens. Tastes do change throughout life, especially post-adolescence. One could denote it to the development of the prefrontal cortex, but I like to say it’s out of knowing what you want out of life.” 

“Have yours? I mean, your tastes. Have they changed?” She asks, her eyes boring into mine, and I realize that my hand is still holding hers.

I lick my lips and shrug. “Here and there. For the most part, yes, but I find myself clinging to certain aspects of my teenage self.” I respond, vaguely. 

She continues to look at me, nodding. “Mine have. For sure.” “How so?” I ask, my heart speedingbup. 

“I think I learned to like sweeter guys.” She says, softly. “Ones that don’t bore me entirely, and ones I actually want to spend time with. Maybe that’s a cliche in itself but..” She shrugs, ending off her sentence there. 

I nod, wondering where this was leading. Her eyes were trained on mine and I could feel my pulse quickening. Was she going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss her? Was I crazy for thinking that at all? What was happening here? 

“You said you still have certain aspects of your teenage self in your tastes.” She says suddenly, her face moving a bit closer to mine. “What did you mean by that?” 

I sigh, taking in the features of her face, and how they seem to be illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows of her car. She was so stunning, even now. Even after all these years, I couldn’t deny she’d only grown to be more beautiful.

 I lick my lips and nod. “I guess I just meant.. I still find you just as beautiful as I did back when I first knew you. Even moreso now, honestly.” I say, quietly. 

I can feel her breath hitch, and her own tongue darting out to wet her lips, mirroring my actions. Her gaze shifts from my eyes to my lips, and back to my lips again, and I’m extremely aware of what I want at this moment. 

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, my hand still in hers, studying her with a careful gaze. 

She nods almost immediately, and at the same time, we surge forward to meet the other’s lips, her hands immediately cupping my cheek and my hands moving to her waist. I hear the click of her seatbelt being unfastened, and suddenly she’s in the passenger seat with me, straddling my waist and continuing to keep her lips locked firmly on mine. 

It’s like I can’t get enough of her, my hands exploring her back, eventually lowering them to squeeze her ass, which elicits a low moan from her. I pull back a little, panting and see her eyes blown out with lust, causing me to groan from just how deep my desire for her ran in this moment. I let one of my hands to run over her bottom lip, pulling it down and letting it bounce back up, enamored by just how close she was. 

“Fuck.” I murmur, unable to contain my awe at her and without wasting a moment, she’s grabbing my hair roughly to pull me back in again to meet her mouth with mine. When given the opportunity from another soft moan from her, I immediately slip my tongue into her mouth, relishing in the way she grabs my collar and presses her body against mine, matching my enthusiasm one for one. 

It felt so good to be wanted by her.

She starts to whimper at the intensity of our prolonged contact, and the sound activates something primal in me. It was almost as if once I heard it, I couldn’t go back. Pulling myself back from the kiss, I start to trail my lips up and down her neck, leaving hot, wet kisses in my wake while she writhed in my lap, her fingers tugging on my hair in desperation. I played with the motion for a bit, testing out certain points on her, before finding that she’d moan loudest at a pulse point at the junction in which her jawline met her neck. I sucked on the spot, being sure to leave a large, dark mark.

I didn’t care what would happen after this night, but for right now, she was mine, and I intended to treat her as such. 

“You said your hotel room was nearby, right?” She pants, starting to move her thighs off mine. “We can go and-” 

I immediately wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back against me with a force that surprised even me, before gripping her hair and placing my mouth near the shell of her ear. I can hear her squeak at the motion, but her legs relax back into straddling mine. 

“I want you now.” I whisper, my voice hoarse and low. “We can go, if you’d like but- I need you now. I can’t stress that enough.” 

She melts in my arms as I say that, and a grin comes upon my face from the desire she was displaying as well. She nods quickly, before moving her fingers to my belt, and just upon hearing the sounds of the hardware moving, my head involuntarily falls back because- holy fuck. Feeling her so close to where my pants were now currently constricted nearly had me finishing right there. I could barely look at her without feeling overwhelmed. I feel my cock being pulled from my briefs, and I let out a moan. 

I look at her again, and she’s the picture of lust. Her pupils are dilated and her hair is messy, and her mouth slightly agape. She’s everything I want right now. All I want. 

“You’re so big.” She mumbles, leaning back, her hand wrapped around me, beginning to stroke me in a gentle, rhythmic motion. 

“Yeah?” I murmur back, breathing in sharply when her thumb runs over my slit, feeling the precum already dripping down my shaft. Even her hand is making me question if I’ll finish right here before ever getting to be inside her.

“Yeah.” She whispers, almost breathlessly. 

“You can take it.” I say, looking at her, and the girl looks like she’s about to moan off of my words alone. She licks her lips before responding, her voice a bit higher than before. 

“I don’t have a condom- but I’m clean and-” 

“Yes.” I respond immediately and she moves quickly. My fingers, as if possessed, move to unbutton her dress a bit, letting her breasts spill out (to my delight). The urge to strip her bare for me crosses my mind, but then I’m acutely aware that we were in her car, and the risk of being caught was far too high for the pleasantries I wished to indulge her and myself in, and I find myself slightly wishing we had gone to the hotel room. Next time.

Before I get too caught up in the fantasy of possibly ever fucking her again, I see her reach under her dress, presumably to move her panties aside and groan at the thought. My hands roam over her body to find her hips, slowly guiding her onto my cock, her walls squeezing around me tightly as her hips met mine. 

Her moans were sweet, but I found my hand covering her mouth quickly, watching as her eyes shone with pleasure with just the slightest movement from either of us. 

“Need you to stay quiet, pretty girl.” I murmur. “You can do that for me, right?”

She nods, eager to please, and I keep my hand on her mouth for a moment too long as I watch her eyes flutter shut, then open, her hands wrapping around my neck to stabilize herself. She starts moving then, lifting off until my tip is the only thing inside of her, before slamming against me, creating the best type of friction for both of us, causing there to be desperation for more. My hands rush down to grip her waist, and I can barely stifle my own noises from how fucking good she feels.

It’s a frenzy after that, and I match her movements with thrusts from below. I know it’s enjoyable for her, based on how hard she’s trying to not make a single sound, but still lets out the tiniest little whimpers and gasps when my cock grinds against her spot, and from the way her thighs shake every single time I disappear deep into her, a small bulge forming in her lower stomach every time I pushed into her. Every clench and squeeze of her cunt drives me insane, and I can’t help the low groan slipping out of me. 

Her movements get erratic, signaling her end, and I grin at how quickly I managed to get her there. My fingers move to stroke her clit in circular motions, savoring the way I could hear her whisper my name, grinding down on my dick and chasing the feeling of my fingers on her. 

“Close?” I mumble, biting down on her shoulder lightly, which causes a louder moan to slip out of her. 

“Yes. Yes.” She whispers, breathlessly. “Please, Spencer. Oh god. Please.” 

I jut into her more rapidly, continuing the motions against her, before her walls tighten and squeeze around me, and her cunt flooding the base of my cock. I continue to move like a man possessed, swallowing the moans of her orgasm with a messy kiss, before finally, I reach my release as well, coating her walls from the inside out. 

She pants for a second, collapsing against my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, and I stroke her hair, attempting to do the same. She moans softly, her hands wrapped around me as her eyes flutter open and shut. 

“I was wrong.” She mumbles, nuzzling into my shoulder, kissing it softly. I’m unsure about the meaning of the words, so I quietly ask her. 

“What about?” 

“You’re incredibly different from when we were in high school.” She says, softly. 

“Good or bad different? I ask, a little self consciously, which is amusing considering I’m still inside her. 

“Good. Really, really fucking good.” She clarifies, quickly, with a dazed smile. I lean in, kissing her a bit more softly now, letting my lips languidly trace over hers. 

“You too.” I murmur, and I can feel her smile against my lips.

No regrets about this one. 

WOAHHH. oh em gee. a fic! so so so deeply sorry i didn't live upto posting more fics this december and january, but i swear i'm gonna keep trying to at least get two out a month. valentines day is coming up, so you already know i'm gonna try and write something fluffy and cute for that, so look out for that. as usual, thank you so so much for any and all continued support. it seriously means the world to me and i cannot say that enough <3 i hope this fic was enjoyable. like, reblog, comment, whatever <3 just ty for reading!! <3

[violetdawn001]

What is with the Dreamer's Houses? Herrah's Den

Okay, we can all agree that Team Cherry put a LOT of thought into crafting the backgrounds and environments of Hollow Knight. But why is nobody talking about the designs for the Dreamers' houses?! Especially compared with their base forms?  Well, let's start talking about it!

Herrah

This is Herrah's design:

Herrah is massive compared to several creatures we have come across in Hallownest. While her mask and horns give off sharp and spooky vibes, take a look at her bottom half. It is round and supported by many limbs.

In comparison, Hornet is far slimmer than her mother, which can either come from her father's genes, her age, or lack of nutrition. Herrah, however, is matured in both mind and body. Herrah's body is like a woman's body which has gone through a pregnancy: stretched and curvy. I do not mean it in a demeaning way. No, these are Herrah's battle scars that she wears proudly as Hornet's mother.

Do people think about that when they see Herrah? No.

At first, they are put off by Herrah's sharp horns and six eyes. It is a mental aspect of our brains to associate sharpness with threats. But the roundness in character design is often associated with warmth and approachability.  This Beast is the same person who Hornet called "Mama"; the deadly hunter queen who cuddled her baby.

By the time we meet Herrah within the Dream Realm to strike her, we should already know that she is Hornet's mother and be conflicted about killing her. Herrah's design only adds to the drama as we listen to Herrah's last words "For her…for her…"

Herrah is a Seal but also a Mom and a Queen. And most likely the main reason why anyone writes AUs sparing the Dreamers.

But I have written too much about Herrah. Let us check out her den!

The entrance is carefully spun while the door is framed by metal design not seen in Hallownest, implying that the Weavers know both the arts of metalwork and weaving.

After entering the Beast's Den, you are treated to a large hall. It seemed to have served as a dining hall, meeting hall, and war room in the past. Now, it is solely used to "prank" any visitors.

Both pictures, however, are the only ones that visitors see when they come to the Beast's Den. Unless you count the distorted view you get as you try to peer through the silk before you get eaten.  Now, if you are lucky enough to be seen as a visitor and not future food, you will see the Weavers are crafty and capable in many arts: weaving, metalwork, and war.

Now, apply that to Herrah and you should carefully take a few steps away.

This, however, is what is applied to Herrah based on a public area. It is time to enter the Beast's Den proper.

And immediately you start to have claustrophobia.  Webs everywhere…

Need I say more?

There is light, but it is very soft and in-between. Your lantern must suffice. But for the Weavers and Herrah, the light from the few lamps is more than enough.

Herrah's Den does not seem to be just for her glory alone, however, as several masks are seen.

IMPORTANT! Neither mask belongs to Herrah! The first mask is too round, like one the few Weavers we find alive in Deepnest, while the other is a Stalking Devout as seen by the hole where the mouth would go.

As for their significance, we are unfortunately left without a guide to tell us anything. But if they were in Herrah's Den with such fine art surrounding them, then Herrah wanted these masks there to honor whoever the masks represent. This detail speaks volumes of how Herrah greatly respects those whom she believes are worthy of honor, even if you must to travel into her den to know of her respect.

As for respect, let us see how the Weavers paid their last respects to Herrah as she laid dreaming to protect them all.

First, the room is the most lit in the whole den due to wide array of candles. Second, the webs are everywhere, but the angles framing the space make it far nicer on the eye (unlike the rest of the den. 😬). Herrah herself is laid perfectly centered, framed by two banners hanging. Even her hands are neatly folded in rest. This is no longer Herrah's home; it is her shrine.

Yet it seems that the Weavers are the ones who highlighted the importance of Herrah. The queen, after all, cared more about her people and daughter than herself. Of all the banners hung, the only markings on them are the six eyes of the Weavers, not just Herrah. It is her people's flag, not Herrah's. 

One last thing to mention before moving on to the other Dreamers, is asking Herrah what in goodness gracious is this?!

As it is deep within Herrah's den and there are more pressing questions in Hollow Knight, I have not seen many attempts to answer it. As such, we have literally no idea except for some insight provided by the Fandom wiki. I quote:

Beast’s Den Shrine

"A room located in the west part of the Beast’s Den contains an unknown being. The file names for the sprites in this room refer to the area as a ‘shrine’. Hitting the being with the Nail produces a metallic sound. Hitting it with Spells makes a seal appear over it. It is unclear if this being is the corpse of an ancient bug or a statue.” Taken from the Hollow Knight wiki: Ancient Civilisation - Hollow Knight Wiki.

If this is true, then we found what Herrah worshiped, or at least what she let her people worship within her den. Whatever this thing, it is not Weaver in origin. The seal used on it does NOT match up with the various Weaver seals of protection we see in the rest of the game. Perhaps the Weavers learn how to make such seals and spells by studying this creature? If so, then it shows how Herrah is willing to learn from others to protect her people.

Willing to learn from anyone but Hallownest.

The bench and elevator are destroyed, specifically the ones from Hallownest as seen in their designs. It is not that Herrah does not like benches, but that she doesn't like Hallownest. See proof below.

The Bench design here fits far better with the Weaver metalwork than the broken bench in the Stag Station. 

Herrah will use Hallownest to benefit her people, but it will always be on her terms.

Even the existence of the Stag Station is to further trade to increase power and influence for the Weavers while lowering the risk to them. Pro-Hallownestian or Pro-Weaver, you must admit that Herrah acts like a queen should, forever serving her people.

And that is all I could find! If you have any thoughts or questions, comment or reblog down below!

This is a part series to see if I can fit everything in. I hope you enjoyed Herrah's den!

Part 2.0: Monomon's Archives: Here

Part 3.0: Lurien's Spire : Here

Part 3.25: More of Lurien's Spire: Here

Part 3.5: Lurien's Spire: Pillows and Patriotism: Here

Part 3.7 Lurien's Spire: What is wrong with Lurien's Office?! Here

Link to essay on Ao3: Here

[thewertsearch]

@manorinthewoods asked: We're still midway through Act 5, but I'd like to ask - what do you theorise will happen in the rest of A5 and in Acts 6 and 7 of Homestuck? ~LOSS (7/6/24)

It's an interesting question. We're coming up on the halfway point of the comic, but our current main plotlines - namely, Murderstuck, the Blackout, the Green Sun and the Scratch - all feel like they'll be wrapped up in a thousand-ish pages, along with the kids' session and the Act itself. The question of what's next is beginning to present itself, and I have a few thoughts.

My main prediction is that back half of the comic will be extremely English-centric. As the man behind Scratch's schemes, he's going to be revealed as the 'true' villain who's ultimately responsible for the current crisis, as well as crises yet to come. I think he'll elbow Perfect Jack out of the primary antagonist's position - and honestly, his chief minion is already more intimidating than Jack.

To contrast Noir, I think English will be a less instinctive, more cerebral villain. His choice of Scratch as a lieutenant suggests that he's more about carefully laid plans than open aggression, and his absence from the Felt Intermission suggests he prefers to hide in the shadows, weaving a web of conspiracy that would put Vriska to shame.

As a result, I expect the next arc of Homestuck to be more about information warfare than flashy displays of power. Our heroes will need to advance their understanding of the multiverse's wider cosmology, as they come to terms with what English is, what he wants, and most importantly, how to stop him.

The later arcs of the comic will involve discovering a glitch in spacetime that can break through English's supposed invincibility, while English works to keep the protagonists in the dark about his weaknesses. How this weakness could manifest, I can't say - but I do think Spades Slick will be directly involved in his demise.

Outside of English, I think the world of Homestuck will expand in other ways, too. It might finally be time to make contact with other Sburb Players, since our current sessions aren't going to be habitable for much longer. We might even be leaving the 'session' framework behind entirely, and travelling through the Furthest Ring to parts unknown.

I know these aren't very specific predictions, but it's hard to be specific about events which are thousands of pages away. I still don't know how the Pen-Pal fits into everything, for example, or why Gamzee is so important to the story.

I guess we'll find out together!

[konigenblobbity]

Metallic Beauties

Hobie Brown x Spidey!F!Reader

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: Fluff, NSFW, nipple piercings, almost skinny dipping, Hobie being an absolute slut for your nipple piercings, tit biting and sucking, nickname

Summary: After a successful mission together, Hobie wants to show you a ‘new spot’ he found. Which turns out to be a rooftop hotel penthouse, with its own private pool. Hobie convinces you to take a relaxed moonlight swim, as both of you begin to strip you remember that you recently got a new accessory. Hobie not having yet seen your new nipple piercings… you can’t wait to see how he reacts.

A/n: Read a work by @murdrdocs about Hobie with a reader with nipple piercings and I was INSPIRED! Definitely check it out —> link. Also! Hobie has my whole heart… love this anti-establishment British heartthrob.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched Hobie do a series of dramatic poses between each swing on his web. You had just completed a day long mission with the punk, with expert skill and not a single slip up. Even made sure to keep the anomaly contained to an unexpectedly effective degree. You couldn’t help but share Hobie’s excitement.

Hobie was your closest friend on the team, having joined a few months ago, you were seen as a new recruit, not yet trusted… he didn’t see you like that. Due to Hobie’s lack of interest - more like borderline hatred - for labels, you two weren’t defined… merely thought of yourselves to be ‘close’.

Close being, telling each other anything and everything, having each others backs no matter what, you even getting involved in some of his demonstrations he went to, tending to each other - whether for injuries or… other needs. The two of you were inseparable, but undefined. Even though many of the other spider-people just wished you two would just accept you’re dating.

“Oi love, I wanna show you a lil somthin’, a new spot I’ve been hangin at” his words peaked your interest, and you just nod. At that he begins to swing off in another direction, ducking and weaving through a series of buildings. Trying your best to keep up, your curiosity only grows with each swing.

When he finally stops, he’s standing on the rooftop of a hotel. You land next to him and look around, seeing a large pool, a series of lounge chairs, and even a small seating area with a large fire pit. This ‘new spot’ was a hotel rooftop penthouse suite.

“Well… who did you bribe to be allowed here?” Your tone was playful as he begins to walk towards the pool, you following close behind. He chuckles lowly, and looks over at you, hands on his hips. “What can I say… I’ve got connections.” he peels off his mask and tosses it onto the lounge chair behind him.

“It’s not booked” he adds hoping to calm your slight unease. He didn’t need to use his spidey-senses to know that. Hobie had always been an amazing observer, picking up on the way you slightly shift your weight, how your pick at the fabric of your suit, how your eyes glance away every few seconds. It was easy to notice those things… because he often couldn’t help but observe you.

You take off your mask as well, throwing it on the lounge chair behind you, positioned right next to his. As you watch him strip out of his boots, then his vest and shirt your eyes widen. He notices your shocked expression and chuckles with an amused grin. “What? We just did a mission which’l keep Miguel off our asses for months. I’m just celebratin’, love”

You roll your eyes at his words but can’t help but agree. This mission was a pain and the pool looked really enticing. He continued to strip, peeling his shirt off, and unzipping the top half of his suit. You keep your gaze on him, intending to give him an incredulous look but unable to hide the slight awe in your eyes. You couldn’t help it, although you’d never admit it, Hobie looked good in anything… or even in nothing.

He smirks and jokingly remarks “Close your mouth… it ain’t like you haven’ seen me naked before” and he’s right, you’ve gone skinny dipping before, in fact you’ve both gotten naked on multiple occasion. Strip poker, just happenstance when you’re both high as kites, and times when you both agree the heat in your reality is unbearable.

You scoff “Well Hobie… when you’re right you’re right” before removing your shoes, and any clothes you wore over your suit. Then reaching to your back and unzipping your spider suit. As you pull it down you pause, remembering that you don’t wear a bra underneath the suit, feeling your bare back where the strap would be.

Hobie was just in his boxers now, and after putting his things on his lounge chair, he immediately dives into the water, quite elegantly if you say so yourself. You watched his figure under the water until his head broke through the surface. A hand coming up and rubbing his face.

He still had his jewelry on and the now wet metal glistened under the pool lights. They were a soft blue and lined the pool wall, with some additional lights outside of it. You could only stare as his figure was illuminated in a soft blue, reflecting of his face piercings beautifully. You were only able to break away your gaze when he spoke.

“The waters peak love, hop in before I come up there and throw you in” the lopsided grin on his face made it clear he wasn’t joking. You chuckle but then gulp, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Although he’s seen you naked before, you hadn’t yet told him that recently you got a new little piercing. Well… two new piercings.

They were fully healed now but you only got them a week or so ago. Not having yet found the correct way to tell or show him. You knew he wouldn’t judge, but you weren’t sure whether he’d like them. As much as you tried to convince him otherwise, with snide remarks and playful insults, you were nervous what he thought and truly cared about his opinion.

You turn away from him, showing him your back as you finish unzipping the suit and slip it off. When you turn he groans, his voice low “you bloody tease…” and you just chuckle before retorting back. “You bloody perv…”. You finished getting undressed, standing there only in your panties and jewelry, most of which you stole from him,

You placed your things on the lounge chair next to his, which already had your mask on it. As you were folding your suit and clothes, not wanting them to get wrinkled, there was a soft splash sound behind you. You place your mask on top of the pile of clothes and then turn back to the pool.

“If any of my things get soaked I sw-“ Once you turn back around towards the pool, he was gone. Your smile drops and your brows furrow. You walk to the edge of the pool looking down into it, thinking he was under the water. Your spoke cautiously, searching for him “Hobie? Where’d you go?” No response.

You go to turn around and gasp, suddenly face to face with Hobie. “Took too long. In ya go.” Before you can even react, Hobie pushes you into the pool. You let out a soft yelp and before landing in the pool you can see the smirk on his face.

There’s a loud splash as you fall into the pool, slowly sinking to the bottom, you open your eyes under the water and, in blurry vision, see Hobie dive into the water after you. Once again his dive is graceful, managing to perfectly align his body with yours, parallel to one another.

You watch through blurry vision as he glides up the length of your body, feeling his hands slide up your thighs, hips, and stop at your waist. His gaze focused on your face, until, from his peripheral vision, he catches a glint of light.

Even in his blurry vision he can see it’s coming from your chest. He tilts his head downwards, his eyes moving away from your face. They widened as he spots the two small silver beads in each of your nipples. You don’t have to see clearly to know he’s looking at your tits, your face beginning to feel flush at how entranced he appears to be.

You use his haze to swim away from him, his hands sliding off your waist. You take in a breathe as you resurface out of the water, shaking your head to shake off some of the water on your face. You open your eyes and look forward, watching as Hobie’s head pokes up after yours.

You were both standing in the shallower end of the pool, feet touching the ground, only a mere meter from one another. You felt your heartbeat quicken as he stands tall in front of you, feeling intimidated by his figure looming over you. His eyes were focused back on your piercings, now being able to see them clearly.

“Well well well… when’d you get those done?” You shrug, deciding to play coy. You tilt your head and furrow your brows. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at… what are you referring to?” Unable to hide the sly smirk growing on your face.

You watch as he pokes his cheek with his tongue, his eyes looking back up into yours. His gaze pinning you in place, unable to move from where you stand. He grins and let’s out an amused chuckle. “Tsk. Always so coy” His voice was low, but his accent was thick… he knew how you got whenever he spoke like that.

You watch as he moves towards you, a smirk still plastered on his face and his eyes narrowed. “I’m referring to…” you shudder slightly as his hands slide up your waist again, but then go to grope your breasts, his thumbs softly rubbing on each piercing. “These metallic beauties” his touch has you humming softly and looking into his eyes, his gaze lustful… you can only imagine you look the same.

He leans forward, his face now settling into the crook of your neck as he mumbles against your skin. His breath sending a shiver down your spine. “Hm. Isn’t that interestin’. They feel even better than they look…” His hands move back to your waist and, as if you weight nothing, he lifts you partially out of the water.

Recognizing his action, you know what he wants, you can only give in… wrapping your legs around his waist, allowing his hands to move to your thighs to hold you up. His face now directly in front of your breasts. “I wonder how they taste…” those words made your breath catch in your throat, back arching as his lips latch onto one of your piercings.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue began toying with your piercing. His hands grasp tightly at the flesh of each of your thighs, “God… they taste even better” his soft groan sending vibrations through your entire body. His mouth was doing wonders, being so gentle with your bud, but effortlessly driving you mad with each flick of his sharp tongue.

The way he paused before beginning to lay searing hot licks over the entirety of your nipple with the pad of his tongue. It had you taking in shaky breaths. As his lips wrapped around your bud again. you could feel his coy smirk, clearly loving the reactions he was getting out of you. He took the piercing in between his teeth and that one action had you dizzy.

Loving the mix of pain and pleasure he was giving you. He began to move away, sucking at the piercing, his lips pulling away with a soft pop. You let out a shaky moan, barely audible but he heard it. And he wanted to hear more… loving the way he felt your body lightly tremble in his arms. The mere thought that he had this much power over you… it had him hazy and his only focus right now was you.

“You’ve been naughty haven’t you? Hiding these from me…” he moves his lips to your other breast, not wanting to leave it left out. He leans in, sticking out his tongue and softly circling the piercing, dragging a whine out of you. “Should’ve asked me to pierce them for you. Would’ve made them look perfect” he then closes his lips around the second piercing. Teasing it the same as he did the last.

You look down at him, his eyes immediately locking with yours. Your own glossed over with pleasure, his half-lidded, focusing his energy on perfectly teasing your bud. “A-are they not perfect?” You question. Not intending to be playful, but rather serious; genuinely asking him. Wanting to know what he thought, and getting tense at the idea that he didn’t think they were perfect.

“Aw… of course they are love. In fact, they look absolutely fucking ravishing on you” he begins to softly kiss your piercing, before going to kiss around it as well. Leaving open mouth kisses, and soft purple bruises in the process. “I just can’t help but be envious… knowing someone else got the pleasure of piercing them” he then bites at the skin of your breast.

You gasp lightly, your eyes fluttering closed again. Biting your lip as he takes the piercing back in his mouth, speaking against your flesh. “Watching you strip, then being able to praise you for stayin’ nice and still, watchin’ your face contort from pain… fuck darling what I would give to’ve been there” each of his words went straight to your head, making you more dizzy by the second.

“W-well… actually. I did them myself” you smirk and look down at him again. He pulls away from your chest, his mouth falling agape, his gaze locking on yours. A grin slowly gracing his lips. “Well fuck…” he moves a hand up to the back of your head, pulling your head down, crashing his lips against yours.

“My brave little bird aren’t you?” He mumbles against your lips, there’s something about the way he says it that has you whimpering against his lips. The way he calls you ‘his’… even if he didn’t like labels of what your relationship was, your heart sings at such praise from him. You softly nod your head, moaning against his plush lips and then feeling him smirk against yours.

His hand grasped your hair, pulling your lips from his for a moment, looking deep into your eyes, his own filled with desire. But you saw… something new. An aura of possessiveness, of unfiltered want… but what caught your eye the most was the smallest glint of pure affection and admiration.

“That’s you isn’t it hm? My bird… my best bird. All mine.”

[nightmarearian]

Turns out, Odysseus thinks hysterically, being on a magic island with a Titan’s child for seven years has… affects.

What the fuck, he thinks. Calypso and Hermes looks just as confused as he feels. (Which rules out that this might be one of Calypso’s schemes. She can’t truly act for the life of her; It’s always in her eyes and she can’t do a long act).

There are scales on his arms. And legs. And neck. And basically everywhere, actually. They come in patches and in different concentrations; The biggest batch is the one already consuming his abdomen, and meeting with the ones growing on his thighs and just generally his legs The other highest concentration is on his elbows, and they spread faster down towards his hands.

They’re a mix of sea-green-blue and gray; Some of the pale-soot colored scales bounce off a warm hazel or sunset-orange in the dappled sunlight that leaks through the trees. The gray - and especially the warm-gray - patches have some dusky gray and sepia feathers peaking out, in between the scales. The most of them are around his neck or from his elbows through his forearms. His hands have grown into aqua tipped webbed claws as well.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck, he thinks on a loop. As he huffs a hysterical laugh, he can feel his teeth having sharpened into needle point snake-like fangs and on that point - his tongue has thinned into something rough and forked. A snake’s tongue as well. The panic increases. (There are whispers in the wind now, feeling of his dead crew).

His ears twitch as he looks at his reflection in a nearby stream, peacefully running like everything in Ogygia, and - holy mother of Zeus what the fuuuuck

His… ears (can he even call them that? His hearing still seems the same…) have transformed into… fins? They remind him of the sirens’ ears, actually, though a bit wider and thinner. They’re mainly the same sea-green-blue color that the scales decorating mainly his lower half are, only fading into a cool blue gray as they near his head. …Are those more feathers behind his fin-ears??? (Scratchy ghost hands reach out of the water, like they did the River Styx. Not real, not real, he automatically tells himself, ignores them).

He turns back to the two gods, who are still staring at him; He feels his fin-ears(???) dip down in panic.

Hermes at least seems like he’s thinking - and worried - even if Odyseeus can’t see his eyes. He doesn’t want to look at Calypso much for anything, but the quick glance he gives seems to spell a similar expression, if not with a bit of… anger. Or disgust. (He hopes it’s the latter; He still feels a spike of fear at the anger. Nothing good ever came of her, much less of her anger).

(Odysseus doesn’t notice in his hysteria, but as his breathing picks up, his legs fuse together, into a snake tail. Hermes catches the moment).

Hermes seems to have thought of something, as his shoulders drop just the slightest and he slowly floats towards Odysseus, as if he was an unbroken horse (or monster, Odysseus thinks. He did say he’d become the monster but this- this is-), holding his hands in front of him in a placating gesture.

“Calm,” Hermes breathes in soft voice. Odysseus tries to follow the god’s orders. “Calm,” Hermes whispers again.

He’s done this before, he thinks, as he turns his gaze on the grass floor, unfocusing. Despite whatever in his gods forsaken travels or the war. Shut it all off. (turn off your heart, a ghost Athena murmurs behind him. Not real, he knows. Follows anyway. Why didn’t he listen to her all those years ago.)

Odysseus can’t do it as.. cleanly as usually could with the whole… well. But he tampers it down a bit. Evidently at least Hermes is willing to help. (He ignores his thoughts on how Penelope might react). They’ll… figure something out.

He tries to think about it calmer; He can feel his panicked tangled thoughts flow into a familiar, calmer weaving feeling, like whenever he makes a good plan and all it’s variables. Is it a curse from Poseidon? The fins and sea-green make him think that, if not for the feathers that are definitely not part of the Earthshaker’s realm. The feathers actually make him think of Athena but- but she didn’t answer him earlier- or did she? Hermes seemed uncomfortable and oddly tightlipped about… something; Something happening in Olympus, Odysseus can guess that much. Regardless, the most of… this seems to a snake. Snakes are either of Athena, Hermes, or Ares.

“d...eus,”

Odysseus has never even met Ares, that goes to Diomedes, he absentmindedly thinks - only Hermes and Athena, and the silver & sienna scales and feathers are very in their domain, however, Hermes obviously doesn’t know much about it, so he can really only think it’s Athena - the myth of Medusa flashes in his mind - except again, he points out against himself, the fins. They’re so clearly Poseidon, and he knows the both of them - Athena better - enough that he knows they’d rather impossibly die that work together for something as so small as a curse.

“Ood...seuusss,”

But if Poseidon can hold a grudge and he knows Athena well enough to know that she does to, as much as she denies, but still then, why would it be years after - is it cause he called to her?

“Odysseus!” Hermes half yells. The mortal in questions jumps, standing again. …When did he stop standing in the first place …wait a minute was he higher than usual earlier? Think about that later, Odysseus tells himself, shaking off the familiar feeling of fading into his thoughts.

Odysseus looks up towards Hermes, who looks a bit worried, but not as panicked as he did earlier. Odysseus looks back down at himself. There are still some scales and feathers, but considerably less. His hands have dulled down - they’re still sharper than usual, but they’re not claws, and the webbing between them is similarly less.

He feels around his mouth. His tongue is still… forked, but that’s all - still a human tongue otherwise; his fangs are still sharp, though.

“Yesss?” It’s harder to speak with a forked tongue and fangs. There’s a slight hiss and lisp at the end of the word.

Hermes doesn't respond, glancing at Calypso, then Odysseus, then Calypso again before partially turning to her, lips pressed, adopting a colder expression, like he did when he was addressing Calypso earlier, to tell them Odysseus was finally free. Hermes nods his head towards the general direction of Calypso’s ‘home’. Calypso opens her mouth, indignant, but the pressure in the air increases as Hermes’ wings stretch up and out, spreading the feathers in an act Odysseus can somehow instinctively tell is meant to intimidate. Calypso closes her mouth, still looking upset but cowed, and she runs off.

Hermes turns back to him, the wings furling back into resting near the god's ears, pressure in the air lifting. He stares for another moment, before sighing and giving Odysseus a small smile, infinitely softer than his usual mischievous ones.

He floats towards Odysseus (careful and gentle and so much unlike Calypso-) and tucks some of his curls behind his slightly-webbed ears, careful around the scales; he lightly ruffles his head like he used to when Odysseus was so, so much younger.

"Should be fine, my friend," Hermes whispers. "Rises with your emotions, no?" Hermes watches the wheels turn in Odysseus' head. Yeah, Odysseus thinks, mind blank in a good way that it hasn't been in a long while. Okay. He nods. "Smart, kid," Hermes whispers.

One of Hermes' ear-wings twitch, and his head minutely tilts towards Calypso's 'home' before tilting back to Odysseus. Hermes softly runs his hand behind Odysseus' head and leads him towards the beachside. There's a raft bobbing back and forth with the waves.

They're really letting me go, Odysseus walks towards the raft, water splashing against his legs. He turns back to Hermes who- is gone- wait no; Hermes flits back from somewhere, wings fluttering and a moderately large basket full of food, water, and clothing in his hands that he pushes into Odysseus' hands.

The god gently hurries Odysseus onto the ship, and after setting down the basket helps him push the raft into the open sea. With Hermes' help, Odysseus is far enough out to barely see the shape of Calypso, once she made to the coastline; Odysseus turns his head away from her. From Ogygia.

Hermes stays with him for a while, until Ogygia's silhouette is shrouded in fog, fading into sky. Hermes watches it fade away, as Odysseus keeps his eyes trained to the open sea (Captain-).

The messenger god turns back to Odysseus, and hovers in front of him. He lightly ruffles his hair again, and his hand cups the side of his head as Hermes ducks his head down and presses a kiss to his great-grandson's forehead.

"Call my name, and I shall be there," Hermes murmurs with a fond smile. With that, Hermes dissipates in a quiet flutter and feathers.

-

ok. so. this developed into great-grandfather hermes. uhm. yeah. anyway. so, in procrastinating on this I now have a full tag for monster-ody-au, it's called Ithacan Naga AU.

*ody has been dissociating his entire stay on Calypso’s island, besides maybe the first year, where he hadn’t spent enough time to be affected. His heightened emotions at leaving cause the actual affects to show, btw.

So! There's absolutely a ref post with a verrry long conversation in the replies that talks about it but to formally do it/add onto it: > Ody's scales are mainly/usually sea-blue-green to gray/purple, but changes colors based on lighting! > Ogygia isn't meant to be inhabited by normal people (or smth), so after seven years + Calypso's inherent magic (as a titan's daughter) it changes Odysseus into basically what Ithacans/Ody would be if he was greek monster, which is why he doesn't notice it & why it's overall very natural. -> Ithacans would really just be sea-snake nagas with some feathers. Ody is special cause he's a descendent of Hermes (and maybe Zeus) & Athena blessed, so he gets wings. > He's venomous! > He can "unhinge" his jaw (Snakes have an extra[?] bone called a quadratic bone that connects the top half of their skull & their jaw, which lets them extend it more. The jaw is also in two parts & has a stretchy ligament to let it stretch). > Full length naga, Ody is like... 27-33 ft? > He has three pairs of wings, one of the small of his back, near his waist, and the other two on the side of his snake half. > He gets gills! Three near his human ribs, a few several spaced out throughout his snake half.

Small headcannons that make a cameo in this: > Hermes used to hang out with little Odysseus (and Ctimene) before Athena (and Ares) came along and chose Ody (and Mene) > Ody has schizophrenia (and PTSD, by now).

...my battery is about to die & I can't remember anything else so that's all for now

[littlemisspascal]

Today marks the 3rd anniversary of my fic The Infinity Cube. I can still remember posting the first chapter, hoping at least one person out there liked it, and I can still remember how it felt to reach the end, a feat that wouldn't have been possible without the support of so many kind souls 💗 I wanted to make something for the occasion and having seen so many amazing web weavings out there, I thought I'd give it my best shot 😊

THE INFINITY CUBE: a journey home

Shades of Earth by Beth Revis // I Choose You by Adam Melchor // When Did It Happen? by Mary Oliver // First Love by Jennifer Franklin // The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde // The Bronze Horseman by Paullina Simons // The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman // 10 a.m Is When You Come To Me by Louise Bourgeois // Maybe In Another Universe, I Deserve You by Gaby Dunn // Maybe When the Time is Right You Will Find Me Again - K. Tolnoe // We Were Missing the Present by Mahmoud Darwish // Persona (1966) // Matched by Ally Condie // In the Pines by Alice Notley // It Wasn't Love // La Pointe Courte (1955) // "My better half" by Pablo J. Davis // The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller // Bioshock Infinite // Calling a Wolf a Wolf by Kaveh Akbar // Oh It Was Meant to Be - Kate McGahan // Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell // If My Body Could Speak by Blythe Baird // Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens // Unending Love by Rabindranath Tagore // The Blinding Star by Blanca Varela // Wild Spirit, Soft Heart by Butterflies Rising // Finding You by Kesha // Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths // Web weaving about the untold story in you // "Feel like making a deal with the devil?" // A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara // Reborn: Journals ad Notebooks by Susan Sontag // I love you like a rotten dog // Sax Rohmer #1 by The Mountain Goats // The Bubble (2022) // Rabbit Hole (2010) // Beginning with O by Olga Broumas // How many times can the same thing break your heart? // War of the Foxes by Richard Siken // On Death in Heartbreak // Lonely Day by System of A Down // This Road (The Mirror is a Trap) by Poe // Memory for Forgetfulness by Mahmoud Darwish // "Do you think we're soulmates in another universe?" // Radio Silence by Alice Oseman // "In one timeline we kiss" - Elizabeth Hewer // Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar by Cheryl Strayed // Almond Blossoms and Beyond by Mahmoud Darwish // X // The Collected Poems of Alvaro de Campos by Fernando Pessoa // Excerpt from Moony Moonless Sky's 'I am an observer, but not by choice' // @/lookoflove // Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg // "Do you know what it's like to live somewhere that loves you back?" - Danez Smith // Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros // The Chaos of Stars by Kiersten White // Home // You and Me

All Pedro Photos - Pinterest // Reader in my story is physically a blank slate, I just really like the photo of Javi + Gabriela touching foreheads

[hrefna-the-raven]

Web of faith

Masterlist- BG3 masterlist

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 5 - 6 - 7

Words: 3703 (sorry it turned out to be so endlessly long^^)

Warnings: smut (18+), more precisely smut including the drider version of Kar'niss

Summary: you finally entered the shadow-cursed lands and called out to your guide, but you didn't expect to know him...

Chapter 4

As soon as your tadpole reached out, you were taken aback to discover something familiar. You couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but the mind that responded felt incredibly comforting and recognisable, seamlessly connecting with your own. Drider was your first thought as you heard the clicking of spiderlegs approaching in the darkness accompanied by a pale white light. Your hand instinctively went to the hilt of your sword but your body froze as soon as the drider was in sight.

"Yes", the drider spoke with a raspy voice, "I hear them, your majesty. Calling us."

His enormous spider-like form would have instilled terror in most others, particularly the goblins, the half-orc, and your companions. However, your gaze was fixated on his face. It appeared different, yet strangely familiar. The eyes were engulfed in darkness with light brown irises, and there were five additional spider eyes on the left side. Beautifully cascading white hair adorned his broad shoulders, swept behind the ear on the same side you used to do it. And there it was, that unmistakable scar on his full, soft lips. He had changed, had become disfigured, but beneath it all, you immediately recognised an undeniable beauty. The same beauty that had captivated you back then in Menzoberranzan. You couldn't believe what you were seeing - he was alive. Your beloved was alive. Though your mind acknowledged that his transformation into a drider meant he had endured immense pain and suffering for failing Lolth's test, your heart could not deny the sheer joy of witnessing him breathing and relatively well before you.

Kar'niss hesitated to appear when he sensed the presence reaching out to him. It echoed the same tune as the other voice in his mind, that gentle melody piercing through the commanding tone of his queen, softer but irresistibly captivating. He desired to distance himself, to avoid committing any offense against her majesty, as it had nearly destroyed him before. However, he found himself unable to resist the allure of that melody and then he caught sight of that exquisite visage, seamlessly weaving through his fractured memories like a crimson thread. Though unaccompanied by a name, he was intrigued. If his queen permitted, he felt compelled to uncover more. Before he could utter a word, the half-orc stepped forward, breaking the uneasy silence.

"Greetings in the Absolute's name, you have been charged with guiding us", he said, deliberately avoiding meeting the gaze of the drider as his feet shuffled nervously.

"New flesh for you, my queen. But who are they?", he approached you, drawing nearer until his face was directly in front of yours, his body stooping low. The pale glow from the lantern cast an mellow light on your countenance as you stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"Niss, is that you?", your voice quivered, unable to contain the mixture of agony and inexplicable joy welling up within you.

Your minds connected and you heard a whispered voice, unsure if it was the Absolute or just the echoes of his fractured mind reverberating in the dark but deep in there, just a fraction of a second, your own voice resonated alongside a fleeting image: delicate fingers tenderly brushing his hair away from his face. The connection abruptly severed, leaving Kar'niss bewildered, his face etched with confusion as he desperately grasped at the fading memory, only to find it eluding him. A bitter taste of shame gnawed at his very soul.

"Bless us again, majesty. Shine your light, protect us!", Kar'niss spoke with an agitated tone, spinning around and striding away, "follow us or die in the shadows!"

Your companions exchanged whispered words amongst themselves. It was clear to them that you had some connection to this drider, but you paid no mind to their inquiries. Your sole concern was Kar'niss in this moment. Hastening past the group, you positioned yourself by his side. Though he remained silent, his gaze shifted towards you, filled with curiosity and a tinge of unease. You were well aware of the anguish that accompanied the creation of driders. Not even the smallest traces of the person they were before the transformation rarely remained, instead they became monstrous husks, their broken minds barely holding them together, filled with shame, sadness and anger. Your heart shattered when you delved into his thoughts, witnessing the devastation inflicted upon your beloved and now infected by the mind control of the Absolute's cult. The weight of it all burdened you, threatening to drown you in a sea of sorrow. Yet, you clung to that one glimmer of hope as you heard your own voice and witnessed a shared memory. Deep down, you believed that the real him still existed, buried beneath layers of pain and madness. You were determined to dig him up again, even if it meant using your bare hands and dedicating the rest of your life to the endeavour. You swore to yourself that you would do everything in your power to reclaim your one true love.

"Niss, do you remember me?", you cautiously inquired, your hand reaching out towards him, however, before it could make contact, he retreated.

You suppressed a sob that threatened to escape your lips, battling the pain that surged within you at his rejection.

"Niss, please", you begged, almost whispering to ensure the others wouldn't overhear.

Kar'niss felt a tightness in his chest upon hearing your words, as if an invisible force had stolen the air from his lungs, leaving him bewildered. Who was this young drow and why did she address him with the same name as the other voice? Why did he feel so drawn to her? He understood that his loyalty should lie solely with his queen, the one who had bestowed upon him purpose and value. Yet, he yearned to bow before this drow, to worship and love her. The ease with which he entertained such thoughts of betrayal to his queen terrified him. He must not allow the drow to touch him; he must distance himself, seek guidance from his queen, beg for forgiveness, and determine the meaning of this drow from a safe distance. And yet, her melody echoed in his mind, growing louder and oh so sweet. How could he possibly resist?

"The shadows are strongest here, do not stray from the path, no matter what they promise", he warned, casting a glance at you before resuming his journey.

The remainder of the route was devoid of any noteworthy incidents, and you soon reached your destination: Moonrise Towers.

Kar'niss swiftly departed as the guards at Moonrise Towers greeted you, stealing a final glance before ascending the tower walls. Upon entering, a comforting warmth enveloped you, creating an almost inviting and friendly atmosphere, if not for your knowledge of the cult's true nature. However, the ambiance quickly shifted upon reaching the throne hall, where Ketheric Thorm sat in a state of irritation and boredom, standing next to him a half-orc named Z'rell, who was currently torturing some goblins. Your attention drifted away, leaving Gale to handle the conversation while you focused on scanning your surroundings with the aid of your tadpole, desperately searching for any trace of Kar'niss. Finally, you managed to detect his presence. The sound of your name being mentioned abruptly snapped you back to reality.

"Were you even listening to a word I just said?", Gale let out a sigh, but upon noticing the guilt in your expression, he decided not to dig further, "let's head to Balthazar's room and get that lantern."

You nodded, taking the lead and pausing in the middle of the library. You gazed upward, a faint smile appearing as you spotted an opening in the ceiling.

"Would it be alright if you grab the lantern and search for Balthazar? I have something I need to attend to here."

The rest of the group frowned in disagreement, but Gale nodded, offering you a warm smile. He understood the significance of what you needed to do. If there was even a chance to save the one you loved, it was crucial to seize it. He couldn't help but admire your unwavering determination and the fact that your love continued to grow, despite your beloved being transformed into a creature that would terrify most.

Your mind reached out to Kar'niss, imploring him to join you. Initially, there was no response, but then you sensed his reluctance as he attempted to shut you out completely. It was only when you sent one final desperate plea that he relented. Niss, please. Emerging from a hole in the ceiling, the drider descended on a delicate thread of spider silk.

"Tiny excuse of a drow", he grumbled, "bothering us until we give in."

With his hands firmly gripping your waist, he effortlessly hoisted you over his shoulder. As he crawled up the wall, returning to his secluded space, he held onto you tightly.

"We shouldn't listen to you, it's treason, our queen will punish us."

He almost threw you into his little chamber and you had to use all your force and balance to not fall flat on your face. You crawled upon the blanket and took in your surroundings. It was a small little space, almost hidden away from the other cultists, a woollen blanket spread out on the floor, while the moon lantern's light engulfed everything in a calming pale white glow. You almost started to cry as you realised that his broken mind seemed to remember happy bits of his past and, without being aware it, recreated them to give him comfort.

As soon as Kar'niss slipped through the opening, his movements came to an abrupt halt, his numerous eyes scanning the scene unfolding before him. In that brief moment, his mind fell silent, devoid of voices or commands from his queen, leaving behind a comforting emptiness as he absorbed the sight of you sitting on his blanket, basking in the gentle glow of the lantern. It felt incredibly familiar, offering a sense of solace akin to returning home after a long day.

"We-we-I don't understand", he stuttered as he approached you, his voice shaky, "what is this magic? What trick are you playing on us?", he raised his voice and his mind reached out to yours.

You saw through his eyes, witnessing yourself holding a piece of fabric and placing it tenderly against his lips while wearing a smile. You heard your own voice uttering the first words you ever spoke to him: fear not, everything will be alright. Rest if you need to, I mean you no harm. The connection severed once again, causing you to gasp as you opened your eyes, unaware that Kar'niss had drawn nearer and was now seated directly in front of you. Tears streamed down his two ordinary eyes, a wave of sorrow engulfing him, threatening to consume and drown him entirely.

"Tiny goddess of flesh", he cried, his voice filled with despair, "we don't her the voice of our queen anymore, we failed again, we will be punished again. What are you doing to us? Why can't we resist?"

It pained you to witness his anguish. Seeking solace, you attempted to establish a mental connection once more. This time, there was no resistance on his part, allowing you to delve deep into the fragments that composed your cherished memories. Though distorted and scattered, they still existed. And within this ethereal realm of thoughts, you beheld it all. You relived the very first encounter, sensing his nervousness as he mustered the courage to confess his feelings. The warmth in his heart when your lips first met. You nearly became lost within the recollection of your final moments together, seeing yourself through his eyes. The touch of the ring on his fingertips stirred conflicting emotions of doubt, love, and the hope of marriage that spread within your own mind. And then, his thoughts suddenly struck against you, enveloping you in a sinister mist that seeped into your being, rendering you immobile. As the mist dispersed, you felt his heart racing in his chest, fear coursing through him, while a strange female voice called out your name. Looking up, you beheld the awe-inspiring yet terrifying figure of Lolth, demanding your demise as proof of his loyalty. His body trembled, and he let out a scream, unable to comply with the request. He pleaded for death, rejecting his goddess, and everything descended into darkness. The connection severed, leaving you gasping for breath, as you took a moment to reorient yourself and realise that you were still at Moonrise Towers. Your gaze fell upon Kar'niss and you sobbed, shuffling towards him, desperately grasping his face as if it might fracture at any given moment and you'd loose him again.

"We have failed," he wept, his voice choked with sorrow, "we always fail; we are insignificant... I... I am nothing."

Your heart was about the shatter into a thousand pieces, all these years of thinking he died where as he had been through the most cruel torment, simply because his love for you was stronger than any faith. You drew his face closer, your lips colliding with his in a passionate embrace, encapsulating all your sorrow, newfound happiness and everlasting devotion in one single kiss. It mattered not what he had become; he was present, he was alive and you would unleash chaos upon the world if necessary just to keep him safe. He made his selfless sacrifice for you long ago and now you would demonstrate that you were more than prepared to do the same for him.

Kar'niss' soul was silently screaming as his thoughts raced and clashed in an unending cycle. Whatever you did within his mind, it gradually reassembled fragments of his former self and without the Absolute poisoning him, the fog in his head cleared and he began to remember everything. Memories flooded back, capturing every fleeting instance of joy shared between the two of you, each intricate detail etched into his consciousness until the very moment he defied his deity to protect you. The rest was still enveloped in shrouds of darkness but it mattered little to him, all that was important to him was here, within his small space, kissing him deeply. Despite his doubts, he felt the radiance of your love piercing his very essence and even though he wanted to reject it, all too aware of the monster he was now, he simply couldn't, he'd take this moment of bliss for he was afraid it might be the last one for the rest of his miserable life. Kar'niss broke the kiss, gently removing your hands from his face and holding them tenderly as he gazed at you. Numerous thoughts raced through his mind, yet his lips remained silent, leaving you to break the silence.

"Yes", you said softly, a giggle escaping your lips at his bewildered expression, "the answer to the question you wanted to ask me the day before your trial, it is yes."

For the first time, Kar'niss let out a nervous chuckle, it was broken and yet it sounded the same as back then in Menzoberranzan, never failing to melt your heart away.

"It was", his voice cracked, exposing the dread and sorrow hidden within, "we are not the same, we are", he gestured towards the spider part of his body, "broken, not worthy, even less than before."

"Niss", you tenderly brushed a strand of his hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear, "nothing has changed. I still love you and I would still say yes if you were to ask me now. I don't care how you look, you're my beloved still if you'll have me."

"But we are, we are-"

"Worthy", you finished his sentence, "you've always been."

You pressed your lips against his once more and this time he responded eagerly, his fingers tangling in your hair. Breaking the kiss first, you gasped for breath. You had missed this, missed him, and there was so much lost time to make up for. Kar'niss turned to the side, retrieving something from the floor before taking your hand and clumsily sliding a ring onto your finger with his trembling hands. Your mouth fell open in shock, speechless as you stared at the ring.

"We....I kept it", he placed a kiss on your hand, "never knowing why but it felt important, so we-I held on to it."

You hugged him tightly, pulling him down as you both descended to the ground. Kar'niss placed one hand on the floor beside you, careful not to put too much weight on you with his spider-like lower body. His breath hitched as he felt your legs wrap around his lower torso, urging him closer. Trying his best to keep a neutral expression, his pedipalps delicately caressed your sides, evoking a smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. In that moment, with your beloved lying atop you, his soft hair falling across your face, it felt as if time had stood still and this was just another blissful moment of togetherness like the many you shared in your past. Kar'niss couldn't help but grin, his fangs visible but not detracting from the gentle happiness in his smile. Sensing your mind reaching out to his, he closed his eyes and welcomed you in. This newfound form of intimate communication was something he cherished, as it allowed both of you to share emotions without the need for words.

At first, there was a sense of hesitation and confusion but then it became more apparent to him. The emotion that you were conveying to him was not just a simple connection; it was desire, a longing to be intimately close to him, projecting images of him kissing you. The intensity of your feelings was evident in the quickening of your heartbeat and the heat that emanated from your body as you pressed your hips against his. Overwhelmed by the moment, he let out a deep groan and momentarily lost himself in the embrace, nuzzling his face into the tender skin of your neck and peppering it with gentle kisses. Just as he thought you were about to pull away, thinking that you had come to your senses and were going to reject him, you surprised him by tenderly caressing his cheek.

"Would it hurt you if we...", your voice grew quiet as your gaze darted between your hips and him, "can you still do...this?"

Kar'niss blushed, his fair complexion turning all crimson as he raised his lower body slightly and extended one of his palps towards you. Without hesitation, your hand reached out and delicately caressed it, reconnecting your desires. Overwhelming waves of lust surged through you as you continued to stroke him, his eyes closing as he let out a deep groan. His other palp pressed against your clothed arousal, the desires of both of you intertwining through your connection. Sensing your hesitation, he opened his eyes, afraid that you might reconsider, but instead he felt you shifting beneath him, eager to remove your clothes. Kar'niss took a step back, his hands fumbling eagerly to help you remove your clothing until you were completely exposed beneath him. With a light touch, his hands traced over the contours of your body, careful not to harm you with his sharp claws. He licked his lips hungrily, battling against his inner demons to resist ravishing your body like the savage creature he had become.

"Niss please", you pleaded, echoing the same desperate request you had made in Menzoberranzan when he was about to make love to you for the first time. He lowered himself, positioning his face between your thighs, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your arousal before he eagerly indulged in your wet folds, licking and sucking as if starved for it. Your voice filled the air with sinful moans as you called out his name. It felt heavenly to be touched this way after all this time as you never let anyone close to you after you thought your beloved to be dead. Unable to hold back any longer, you succumbed to the pleasure, your legs trembling as you experienced your first orgasm. Kar'niss let out a primal growl, feeling the intensity of your climax through the deep connection you shared, his desire growing uncontrollable. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you closer and positioning you at the perfect angle. Whispers of a protective spell escaped your lips, hoping it would avoid you being sliced open from the inside as your bodies were not entirely compatible anymore to indulge in these kind of pleasures. One of his palps rested at your dripping entrance as the other was pressed against your clit. The intense connection between your bodies and the shared anticipation in your minds threatened to push Kar'niss over the edge but he restrained himself. He couldn't bear to disappoint you, not when you had willingly come back to him to love him again. Taking a deep breath, he slowly pushed himself inside you, overwhelmed by the pleasure of your tight walls squeezing around one palp and the other teasing your sensitive nub simultaneously. The sensation of him filling you was almost too much to handle, and despite your desire to take all of him, it was simply impossible. Moans escaped both of you in perfect harmony, as if you were synchronised in every way. He momentarily halted his movements, afraid of causing you any pain. You gave him a reassuring nod and he resumed his movements again, slowly thrusting into you. Both of you moaned loudly, the sensation heightened by your shared connection and it didn't take long for you to come undone at the same time. Your walls clenched around him and he growled your name, palp twitching as some liquid silk dripped out of his abdomen. The connection broke and, exhausted, Kar'niss laid down beside you, pulling you close in an affectionate embrace, his face buried in your soft hair, murmuring sweet words of affection. As you both drifted off to sleep, the tranquillity was shattered by piercing screams and the reverberating clash of weapons coming from the lower floors...

[maskedemerald]

Weaving Webs CH11

Here is chapter eleven of my Invisobang fic! We've reached the end of the bang fic but there is still a series of fics to come in this story!

The wonderful @pricklenettle did some fantastic art that you'll see embedded through out the first half of the fic so if you haven't seen it go check out their blog now!

You can check out the fic here or on AO3!

If you like this consider dropping us both a follow!

Warnings: Body horror, manipulation, Spectra is her own content warning, Burns, Spider - for like 2 chapters then it goes away.

The Fenton parents were there when the accident happened, they saw Danny die in an act of sabotage. Now they’re just trying to go on with the strange ghost that is all that's left of Danny. While their old college friend is wondering where the subjects of his revenge are.

[First][Previous]

Chapter Eleven

“He’s not with them,” Maddie said softly.

If she had suddenly sprouted a second head Vlad wouldn’t have been much more surprised than he was right then. Surprised and confused but with a spark of hope that he’d long since crushed. There was his Maddie defending a ghost. He couldn’t help but wonder if all the hate had been Jack all along. That if he’d told her then maybe she’d have still been there for him back then. That as long as he could hide his intentions and actions against Jack that she’d be okay with his ghostly nature.

She gave him a hopeful smile, how he’d missed seeing her smile, “I know this is confusing but well… maybe we should go talk about all this upstairs.”

Her smile was shaky and she glanced between him and the ghost behind her. The one that clung to her back, “pop upstairs and we’ll be right up,” she said to it softly.

The ghost shook its head and stared with its bright green eyes at Vlad, he wasn’t even sure if the lamp-like eyes could even blink. He noted the bulky hazmat suit, maybe this was the ghost of someone Maddie had known. Something he couldn’t put his fingers on about the whole situation was bothering him.

Maddie sighed, “Fine we’ll all go together, but Vlad… I’m warning you now. Do not test me with him.”

Vlad blinked out of his unintended staring contest with the clearly young ghost, “Right, yes…” that determined tone was familiar. He’d not heard her stern tone in a long time. If she was that protective of the ghost then maybe she would be willing to leave Jack for the sake of the ghost.

He followed her up the stairs, the girl in her arms and the ghost curling around the pair. He was expecting the ghost to vanish if Jack was upstairs. Jack hadn’t interacted with it during the fight and probably assumed the same as him as much as he hated the idea of sharing a thought process with the oaf. Jack probably didn’t know of Maddie’s little ghost ally. If he did there was no way he’d be on her side about it. He always was an act first, think second kind of man. Maddie was probably expecting the oaf to have left the house chasing Spectra. If Vlad was fortunate the Jack wouldn’t be back.

Jack was stomping around, righting chairs. Clearly Spectra had gotten away and he’d given up the chase. The young ghost didn’t vanish and Vlad braced himself for the firing of wild blasts from Jack’s terrible aim. Worse it slipped out from behind Maddie to dart over to Jack. The little ghost was apparently as foolish as Jack himself.

Jack didn’t shoot, he startled a little as the ghost brushed against him and settled round his shoulders. The man grinned like a fool and took Maddie’s daughter from her to set on the sofa. The girl was beginning to come round. Jack’s lack of reaction didn’t make sense. Maddie being swayed by a ghost he could believe but Jack? Jack was far too stuck in his stupid ways to work out he was wrong about anything.

He frowned sitting in the chair that if he wasn’t able to just phase through would leave him feeling rather surrounded. The other arm chair that was currently empty faced him. The sofa that Jasmine was on was on one side and the other the TV closed the gap.

Vlad stared at the small ghost that had now settled on the back of Jack’ armchair, the large man sitting in front as if there wasn’t a ghost there at all. Vlad couldn’t help but notice the lack of wariness around it. As if it was normal to be there. He watched as Jack passed up an ecto capsule that he extracted from the ecto pistol he had used during the fight. The ghost chewed on it, its face plate splitting like a jagged mouth of broken glass.

“Jack!” Maddie hissed scoldingly, “what did I say about giving him those? What if he accidentally blasts himself.”

“I know Mads but he needs the boost, we all do!”

“That’s what the flasks in the lab… oh… nevermind. I guess it's fine this time.”

Vlad had to wonder if the ghost was somehow influencing them. Maddie was too strong willed for that but Jack and maybe Jasmine but that still didn’t make much sense. Maddie was a strong and protective sort, she wouldn’t have allowed the ghost to influence her children. Children. There was only one. How had they not noticed? Maybe they were being influenced. Influenced to not even have realized that the boy had probably died when the last pod exploded.

“Maddie dear? Where is…” he paused trying to remember the boy’s name, “Where is Daniel?”

The family froze, a long silence filling the air. Jasmine looked to her parents while both of them wouldn’t meet Vlad’s eyes. Maddie looked like her mind was ticking away, choosing carefully what to say. Jack however had the world written on his face. The man was not subtle. Though it was the first time he’d seen Jack really lose that boisterous energy. Even fighting the ghost it had been there and now? Nothing. It was quite clear something had happened. They didn’t even seem shocked. Something before the incident downstairs or no doubt Maddie would still be down there trying to dig whatever was left of Daniel out of the webs. Jack was the first to break, his eyes darting to the ghost. It didn’t take a genius to catch on.

It explained a few things. Why they were so comfortable around the ghost. “Oh, I see. Maddie, I am so sorry. What happened?”

The ghost hissed with static as he asked the question. Green lamp-like eyes were on him. If he was a normal human he supposed he would feel threatened by the increased intensity of the aura that made the family shiver. The fact that the ghost didn’t try to blast him for the taboo question made it clear that the ghost knew it was outclassed. Just to be sure little Daniel knew his place he pulsed his own aura. Far more controlled, hidden from the family under Daniel’s own but that only made his superiority clearer.

“The portal…” Jack started.

“An accident? Surely not again. Please tell me you learnt from that mistake Jack.” He didn’t hide his frustration or anger well. Had the oaf really learnt nothing.

Jack winced.

“It wasn’t his fault. Someone sabotaged the portal. It turned on with Danny inside it despite all our safety protocols.” Maddie defended.

“Stupid thing was even unplugged.” Jack grumbled.

Vlad was surprised to hear Jack call what should have been his dream invention stupid. How the guilt the man felt must have been delicious to Spectra. It was vindicating to finally see him regret his idiotic behavior. Vlad might have laid the groundwork for the accident through his sabotage but the fault still lay with Jack. If Jack had been more careful 20 years ago. If Jack had been more careful even in the modern day he’d have noticed the sabotage. If Jack hadn’t been so foolish to hand off dangerous work to a child. If it were not for Jack then Daniel wouldn’t be a ghost. Vlad did feel a little guilt but not in the same way. He was sorry for the hurt this would have caused Maddie. He wished his target had been the one dead but Daniel couldn’t have been much of a loss. Even a ghost it was clear to see there was far too much Jack in that child.

“Sabotage, who would even do that?”

“That’s the problem, we don’t know.” Maddie said, shaking her head. “There’s no evidence of who at all.”

Vlad frowned, he could feel Jack staring at him. He had started a little after he’d needled at him about the accident in college. The man had been looking at his hands and then looked up at him. He had to wonder what was going through the idiot’s head. Probably some pathetic attempt at an apology.

Jack snatched his wrist in a vice grip, almost pulling him out of his seat. “What are you doing?” Vlad spluttered confused.

He looked uncertain, a frown on his face. “You have a pulse”

Vlad steeled his expression as he felt his blood run cold. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. There was no way that the imbecilic oaf managed to figure it out. Had he somehow seen something in the lab?

“A pulse, what are you talking about Jack. Of course I have a pulse Jack, everyone does.” He blustered trying to brush it off.

“Jack what is going on?” Maddie questioned.

“He has a pulse Mads… but I saw.” Jack said confused.

“Saw what?

He’d seen, Vlad wanted to curse. Maddie hadn’t. He could still get out of this. “You were probably mistaken Jack, there was a lot going on down there.”

“No… I definitely saw you. You were like woosh! Blasting like the ghosts.”

“Jack, I gave him a gun.” He breathed a relieved sigh, Maddie the ever reliable had just given him an out.

“No before that! When he saved Jazzy.” Jack insisted.

Vlad gritted his teeth. Jack was clearly far too certain on what he had seen for his liking. Worse… or maybe better Maddie seemed to me thinking. She was being convinced. That idea terrified him but there was that hope.

“Jack, you must be mistaken.” Vlad tried pushing that hope out of the way. That wasn’t the plan. He couldn’t take the risk without knowing more.

“Vladdie. I know I’m not. I know why you’d be worried about us knowing whatever it is but look, we’re not against you. Look at Danno! If we can handle him being weird we can handle our best friend.”

Vlad scowled, the man wasn’t going to back down and of course the loveable ever trusting, apparently even toward certain ghosts Maddie was believing him.

“V-man, it was the accident wasn’t it?” Jack asked.

Maddie looked at him with a concern, not fear. He’d expected fear or anger. He’d hoped for better in the space of the last hour as he saw how they were with Daniel. But he was her child, even if he was more Jack than her. Vlad was the friend they hadn’t spoken to for years. Even with Daniel he’d never planned to let that slip and then along comes Jack as usual shattering his plans. A small part of him thought that for once that might have been a good thing.

“Yes.” he surrendered. He hated it but he couldn’t get out of it now.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jack asked.

Vlad scowled at the obliviousness “Why?! Why do you think!”

“Vlad, I’m sorry. I’m sorry we made you afraid to talk to us. We said some horrible things.” Maddie looked so guilty.

He looked up at Maddie, of course she would understand. “You didn’t know it referred to me. I should never have doubted your heart Maddie”

Maddie winced, he wondered what he had missed. There was another bolt of guilt in the air. “Vlad…”

“Oh this is perfect!” Jack shouted jumping up. The ghost behind him startling and floating over to Jasmine.

“What is, Jack?” Vlad didn’t keep the irritation from his voice at the interruption.

“V-man’s a ghost right? Well kind of! He can help us figure out Danno!”

Vlad blinked. He wasn’t really thinking that Vlad would help him after everything he’d done. He would much rather just watch Jack fail.

“We’ve been flying pretty blind with all this V, and you’ve been dealing with it for 20 years right. We could really use the help.”

Maddie looked thoughtful, she sighed. “Jack isn’t wrong, we don’t know what we’re doing. For as many theories that have been confirmed there is another thrown out the window. Not to mention the things we just don’t know.”

“Right, so it makes sense to have the expert involved!”

She frowned. “Jack we can’t, I’m sure Vlad is just passing through and after everything I doubt he wants to answer every little question we have.”

Passing through, that wasn’t what he was doing. He had cleared his schedule to make time to comfort a grieving Maddie. The subject of her grieving had very much been different than he had expected but it was still there. There was a temptation to say yes. He could take this moment and leave now, plan another attempt on Jack. Or he could stay. Help them. Work his way back into Maddie’s life. Await the opportunity against Jack in person. There would be no chance of missing his downfall then. And Maddie would already be much closer to him. She’d have so much to thank him for after he helped with Daniel.

“Actually, I came to check on you two. You did miss the reunion.” he said, deciding.

“Awe we missed it! We were looking forward to seeing everyone!” Jack dropped back into his seat.

“I was going to cancel… with Danny, we couldn’t.” Maddie said. “... with everything that happened I forgot.”

“I understand, I know how hard this must have been. He must be a lot to deal with.” It was understandable for it to be pushed out of Maddie’s mind.

Maddie nodded, “he’s not what we expected but it feels like there is never a moment to relax. We just don’t know enough.”

“Well I suppose I can make some arrangements and stay for a short while till you are better able to cope.”

“Really V-man.” Jack grinned.

Vlad cringed. “Yes,” he didn’t voice the unfortunately that he wanted to tack on.

It was worth it, he told himself. Worth it for the smile on Maddie’s face. Worth it for getting closer to her. Worth it for getting to see Jack be destroyed first hand. It would take a bit more planning to be sure his involvement wasn’t revealed but it would be all worth it. It would be worth it for the good will that it would net him with Maddie.

A wave of relief fell over the room at the offer, tinted with a mote of curiosity that was probably from the young ghost currently staring at him. He trampled down a smirk and his own aura. He let his confidence show but hid away the malice and smug disdain. He’d missed his chance before but now he had a chance to embed himself into Maddie’s life, to sow the seeds of descent and construct a web of lies. All of which would come together in his ultimate victory, Jack’s downfall and Maddie as his wife.

[First][Previous]

I'm sorry to say this is where my bang fic ends, but this really was the best place to split the fic that was quickly becoming far bigger than I could keep up with while dealing with my own family chaos. There will be more to this, I'll be back in October to start posting the second fic in the series. For those wondering about what Sam and Tucker are up to you'll get to see that in the next fic. They are a lot more involved and you'll get to see a little of what they've been doing during this fic.

I'm glad to see how many people have enjoyed reading this and I hope you stick around to see where its going in the rest of the series!

[sarahisslytherin]

where we left off || d.m.

summary: you run into your ex at a masquerade. it turns out you weren't the only one missing him. contains: angst, fluffy ending. a/n: this is kinda shitty but i don't have it in me to care lol.

you would know those icy eyes anywhere. you knew them in first year, rolling at whatever witty remark harry or hermione had made at the time. they were your friends, and at such a young age you swore then and there to forever hate draco malfoy out of loyalty to them. even so, you couldn’t help but find him intriguing. his silver hair, those stone cold eyes you got to observe more closely in transfiguration, partnered up with you by the professor. they grew softer the more he learnt of you, and when he teasingly asked if you had something going on with potter, to which you’d responded with a definitive no. it was as if you had flipped a switch within him in that moment. as if whatever ice left in his eyes had then melted away.

you knew the joy that could be found in them when you kissed him at hogsmeade, when you spent your first night in his dorm. you knew them full of concentration, more often than not accompanied by a furrowed brow. you knew them full of tears as well, when he was branded with the dark mark. he had made the painful decision to set you aside, to free you of the torment he was to undertake. and so he did.

you thought you would never be able to move on. harry, hermione and ron lent you their shoulders to cry on for weeks. at a certain point, you’d decided to keep your bursts of agony to yourself. you would carry the pain with you where you went, but your friends didn’t need to bear it themselves. 

the last place you’d expect to see him, to meet those oh-too-familiar eyes, was at tonight’s masquerade. you’d been dancing with harry for about a half hour when you’d decided to get yourself a drink. as the alcohol burned down your throat, your gaze drifted vaguely over the dance floor, not entirely sure what it was you were looking for. that was, until you saw him.

by some magic, out of every dancing figure in the ballroom, draco’s eyes had managed to land on you. no sooner had the song come to a close than draco began to make his way towards you, weaving in and out the web of people. 

“there you are.” he smiled, more to himself than to you, as if he had just encountered something remarkable that no one else but himself would get to enjoy. “miss me, did you?”

you were glad to see him in good spirits and returned his pleasantries. “you know i have.”

“you look lovely”. he said coolly, to which you joked that he couldn’t even see your face what with the mask and all. “doesn’t matter.” he clicked his tongue. “you’re always lovely. always were, always will be.”

“you flatter me, malfoy.” you scoffed, just then catching sight of harry from across the hall. he was mouthing something; “malfoy?” you nodded discreetly, but not discreetly enough to go unnoticed by  draco. he looked over his shoulder, gave an annoyed roll of the eyes. “is that potter?”

“it is.” you nodded as you took another sip of your drink.

“are you with him?” he asked, an urgency to his tone that wasn’t there before.

“in what sense?” you teased. draco’s eyes widened in desperation for you to give him a simple answer. “no, i’m not with him, you psycho.” you watched him relax, as if a weight had been lifted off him. you wordlessly offered him your drink, from which he took a quick swig before delicately placing it back in your hand.

“may i,” he started, then hesitated. “may i have this dance?” you nodded, told him he may and let him lead you onto the floor, spindly hands intertwined with your own as if they were made for each other. his platinum mask matched perfectly with his hair, and you couldn’t help but admire him. you knew the face beneath so well, you’d had every detail memorized. 

“i really have missed you, you know.” you say to him in earnest as you move to classical music. he twirls you around and whispers in your ear when he pulls you flush against his chest. “the feeling is mutual.”

as you danced you noticed his eyes dart in harry’s direction every once in a while. “he’s probably in love with you, you know.” he scoffed.

“i know, i have that effect on people, it seems.” you chuckle, reveling in draco’s dumbfounded expression. “kidding. but you should really lay off him, you know. he spent a lot of time dealing with the mess you made of me.”

“i resent that.” he sneered. “you know why i did what i did.”

“yeah, i know.” you sighed. “and how is life without me, anyway?”

“absolute shit. i’m surrounded by death eaters at all times, dragged from ball to ball to find myself a suitable death eater wife.” you felt a pang in your chest as he said this last, an inaudible oh escaping you. “i don’t get a say in my own life. hell, i can’t even be with the girl i want.” 

“the girl you want?” you repeated as he pulled you in. he nodded, a grave look in his eyes.

“is there no way we can make this work?” he asked, standing still while the couples around you danced on. “there has to be. i tried to be without you but i can’t go on.”

“there’s just so many obstacles.” you said, trying to remain realistic.

“we’ll overcome them.” he assured you, and looking into his eyes you knew he meant it. 

“how would we even begin to do that?” you asked, a smile forming on your face. “what’s your plan, malfoy?”

“i don’t have a plan just yet, but i know the first step.” he smirked. he leaned in close enough for your breaths to mingle. “first, we pick up where we left off.”

taglist: @velvetcloxds @oliverwoodmarrymepls @canibeoneofthepogues @leahsficemporium @saintlike78​ @sereinegemini​ @imabee-oralizard​ @sheraayasher​ @mendesxruel​ @gilmore-angel​ @cupids-crystals​ @amourrs

[naffeclipse]

Monster boyfriends... Monster boyfriends... Monster boyfriends....

I don't know whether you're comfortable with answering this question, and it's okay if you're not! But I sometimes wonder how the boys would cope after getting into a fight, argument or disagreement with MC. Mmm, angst.

Mmm, delicious angst. *chef's kiss*

Hawthorn has to take off afterward just to cool down. He catches a strong wind and sails for half the night over the thick woods of his home. In his mind, he's unraveling and weaving through the anguish of raising his voice and MC doing the same. It shouldn't have come to that. He should have handled it better, and now he fears the damage done. Does MC want him around anymore? Is it over? He wanted to apologize. He wanted to hold MC in his arms, but he was boiling and couldn't think past the argument—now he's frozen cold. He should have stayed. He shouldn't have said that. He wonders what the morning will bring. Can he return to MC, repentant, or will MC turn him away? He didn't mean for this to happen, but bad things don't care much for his input.

Grease is furious. He doesn't let MC walk away until a door is slapped in his face and MC screams at him to leave, and then he's talking off. He's tearing through the shadowy alleyways and destroying whatever he can get his hands on, clawing up cars, breaking glass windows, and shattering anything he can throw on the ground. Someone has to pay. It's someone's fault. It's not his and it's not MC's, but it's someone's. He has to put the blame somewhere other than a problem in a relationship—something he can't force or handle with his claws until it becomes shreds. He wants to see MC so badly but it makes him feral once more as he crushes dirt in his hands. The thought of returning to MC's house makes him physically ill, so once he's out of fuel, he stands there, broken pieces littered around him, staring down at what he might have done wrong.

Calmo is the type to sit and stew. He replays the fight over and over in his mind, noting logical inconsistencies MC made and relistening to the moments when his voicebox let out audio that was not true—so why did he say it? He is a machine. He is perfect. He cannot make mistakes and let problems grow into issues. But there's no self-diagnostics for relationships and he can't go out of the house to follow MC. MC stormed away. MC left. Good riddance. He doesn't mean that. He furls and unfurls his digits and tries to find the solution. An apology. A sincere expression of regret and an acknowledgment of wrongdoing. That's what a World Wide Web search provides as an answer, but Calmo does not feel like apologizing yet. His wires are still red-hot and his core whirls like a jet engine. This is a problem. How does he fix it?

[tenaciousduckpoetry]

Sure, Next Time.

This is the fic that won the poll by a landslide. I will be writing the other one next just for fun! Actually, I might make a list of them and publish it so you guys know what's coming lmao

Warnings: mentions of blood, a limp, fights, dislocated finger 💀, hurt/comfort, swearing, Hobie and reader are tired af cause it's 2am, I also don't know how to write Hobie's accent so bear with my while I learn <33

It didn't necessarily surprise you when Hobie accidentally let it slip that he was Spider-Punk. You could recognize the sticker abused guitar and stressed leather jacket anywhere. What did surprise you was the amount of injuries he sustained and how easily he could hide them from you. If he had a limp his excuse was, "Tripped in my boots, luv." Any other injuries he used the excuse of having started a fight with some capitalist douchebag. And you believed it. It was only until he came back for you to patch him up after every battle that you began to truly let your anxiety feed into it.

Hobie had climbed through your window at 2am. The sun was no where to be seen and the moon was shrouded in clouds. You had become a light sleeper as of late, the rise in crime getting on your nerves and preventing that precious rest you craved.

You woke up at the sound of those familiar heavy boots against your tiled floor. Squinting, you recognized the familiar shadow of a certain spider-man, or at least the shadow of the spikes on his head. "Hobie?" You reached to turn on your bedside lamp. Tired eyes squinted as the warm light enveloped the room. Your voice was scratchy from having been woken up at an ungodly hour. Your hair was all over the place, strands in front of your eyes and sticking out in ways that you didn't know it could. You thought this was a dream with how Hobie had frozen like a deer in headlights at the end of your bed.

Hobie thought he could just slip in and out, weaving his way to your bathroom and taking a couple of bandages for his trip home. He was wrong, and now look at him. He had barely made it to your house in one place and there was no doubt that he was not making it back to his own. All his weight was on his left leg, he was using a web connected to your roof as leverage to keep him upright. You could see a dark stain seeping through his mask just above where you assumed his left eyebrow to be. You suspected there to be more than what you could see through his mask, but would have to wait until you finally got him to the bathroom sink to find out.

The corners of his lips turned up as he watched you struggle to untangle your legs from the bedsheets. "Need some help, luv?" A shit eating grin adorned his face but you couldn't see it. Even when he was injured he still managed to make your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm just fine." You huffed, finally finding the floor against your feet and taking steady steps towards the injured man. You didn't see him using your roof as leverage and silently cursed yourself for taking so long. "You better not pull out my roof with that web. Otherwise you'll be the one dealing with my landlord." You huffed only half-joking. Humour seemed to be your coping mechanism. "Don't get all funny on me now, luv." He chuckled, sounding worn out and in pain. You helped him through your mediocre apartment, having draped his arm over your shoulders and letting him rest his weight against you as you walked (stumbled) to the bathroom.

With a slight huff through your nose and grunt that you wished was silent, Hobie was now sitting on your toilet, the lid shut. He was too tall when he sat on the sink (you found that out the first time he came over) and well, you didn't have much room up there to begin with. You crouched to the cupboard below your sink. In a Spider-Punk themed box (made by you to tease Hobie) was a consistent supply of bandages, disinfectant wipes, alcohol wipes, splints, etc. There was everything you could think of that someone would need when injured. You made this box not long after the first time Hobie came back with blood dripping from his forehead and you didn't have anything to help. That night was filled with gentle sorry's and small panics.

"Can you take the mask off, Hobes?" You mumbled, having pulled the box onto the sink. You turned to watch him, tired eyes noticing just how he flinched when he moved his arms to push the mask over his head and tossing it to the floor. His hands were trembling, one of his fingers looking to be the slightest bit out of place. The cut above his eyebrow was bleeding profusely and it looked as if part of his piercing had been pulled on.

"'s not as bad as it looks." His hands gently moved to rest on your hips, eyes glancing towards the worried look on your face before moving to the roof. "Not as bad as it looks? Baby, you've probably got a concussion.. No, you've definitely got a concussion." You mumbled, hands already digging into that spider-punk themed medicine box. You managed to pull out some baby wipes and a few alcohol wipes. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, heart thumping in your ears. Your hands came up to caress his face, taking a baby wipe to gently wipe the blood dripping down his face. There was a visible wince and a hiss of pain that came from the touch. Hobie's long fingers gripped the fabric of your pajamas.

"I'm sorry, Hobie.." you muttered, trying to be as gentle and careful as possible. Once the cut was cleaned and a bandage was placed over it, it was time to move to his finger. "I'm even more sorry about this. We're gonna need to put it back in place, okay?" You were kind of glad you took that health course in highschool now.

Hobie let out a groan, to tired to respond with words, but it was clear he was not looking forward to it. His hands released their grip on your hips and instead were placed in your palms. "Okay, we're gonna count to three and I'll put it back in. That good, baby?" You asked.

The suspense was killing Hobie, he was already in pain as it was. He's had dislocated digits before so he understood the importance of getting the limb back in it's socket as soon as possible, but that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it. He nodded. "Yeah, okay." He hummed in response. Except you didn't even count. You waited until he spoke up and quickly pushed the digit back into it's socket, earning a muffled (still loud) groan of undescribable pain. "I'm sorry! Fuck, I'm sorry. It's over now." You apologized, wrapping his swollen wrist in a compression bandage. The tears brimming in his eyes and the sick pop of his finger had you feeling queazy. You felt your stomach flip and not in the usual happy way it did when Hobie was around. However, you pushed the feeling aside, hands resting on his cheeks as you leaned in to press a small kiss just to the left of his bandage.

"Let's get you to bed.."

After finally fixing up his injuries the two of you had found yourselves laying in bed. Hobie was next to you, one arm drapes over your stomach, the other resting under his head. His lips brushed against your cheek.

"I worry about you.. About what you're doing." You spoke quietly, glancing back into his eyes for a moment. "I know it's for the greater good, but seeing you come home in the middle of the night half dead every day is- It's not nice." You rambled quietly before finally going silent.

He huffed through his nose, although it wasn't angry. "I know, luv. Gonna give you a heart attack one day.." he joked, pressing his lips to your temple. "I love you." The words came out quiet, barely leaving his lips before you turned to face him.

"I love you too, Hobes. But next time you get a dislocated finger just go to a doctor. I literally felt sick from that." You mentioned, earning a small nod and a deep chuckle.

"Sure.. next time." He mumbled in response, closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around you securely. There was no need to worry about the outside world as long as you were in his arms.

[randomingoftherandomness]

Honestly, the Sumin of the live-action adaptation freaks me and icks me the hell out more than the one from the webtoon. Didn't think that was ever gonna be possible.

I read a post on this tag the other day about how people are hating on Sumin because she "acts cutely" and it was said with the undercurrent of "y'all just hate women" (at least that's how i took it). It sat with me for days and I was pondering on that before I settled on a response.

Sumin gets hate not because she "acts cute". She gets hate because she manipulates and weaponises her "cuteness" to weave her webs and warp things around to suit her. Sumin is hated not because of her comfort in expressing her femininity but the way she uses that femininity to, for the lack of a better word, abuse the trust, respect and love that others have for her.

But do people love her, is yet another question? In the narrative, original Jiwon definitely loves her -- friend, family, sister, her other half... all that jazz. Minhwan definitely loves her for what she gives him -- an ego boost that a beautiful woman could want him (how manly /s), the inflated pride of being able to bag the wife and the whore.

I digress.

We were talking about Sumin of the live-action adaptation.

Too often I find myself watching live-action adaptations and going, "oh this could have been done like that", "oh they omitted that but they left this part in", "huh that's an interesting narrative choice", and much more often than not, I find myself hating it outright (re: howl's moving castle). But with this? Gawd, this version of Sumin is far more obsessed, far more cruel. You get the feeling that she is spiralling and you know she is going to keep doing even crazier shit to keep Jiwon by her side.

And that, if I'm being honest, is her appeal.

This "cute" girl who deadass speaks in aegyo and cutely charms her way through life with her big wide eyes and pouty lips, but who is just as adept at staring at you with those bug eyes and a serial killer smile when the switch flips for her.

I genuinely have been loving the changes that they've been making and I think it keeps it fresh and exciting for us who had loved the webtoon. I don't know. The thoughts are escaping me for now but whatever tendrils I could make sense of, I hope they made sense to you too.