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magics-neptunes-things · 9 months ago

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Calm After Storm

Hi guys!

It was way too long since I didn't write for Leah, so here is a sweet little thing.

I'm so happy Arsenal won yesterday, even if I almost cry three times and had two hearts attacks. And of course I think about Frida, hopping she's ok :(

TW : Lover fight, Angst.

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Leah is intense. Always have, always been and that’s how you love her. You love how much she can be passionate about everything she’s doing. You love her love for football, for her family, for her friends. She is always here to help her relatives for everything. She’s here for her grandmother when she needs help for groceries, she’s here when her mother can’t walk their dog, she’s here to get her brother to the airport at 8 in the morning even if she played a game the night before, she’s here to support her teammates through injuries.

She’s everywhere she can be, at every time.

You, in another hand, you’re calmer. You’re a little shy and need some time to observe the people you don’t know before opening up. You are as affectionate and attentive to your loved one than Leah, but in a more discreet way.

Those differences are the meanly reasons of why you didn’t understand at first why Leah seems interested in you. You met her thanks to your friend Lotte and Leah took the time to talk to you every time you came to watch Lotte plays. When Leah did her ACL, she attends almost every game, and you talk a lot during this time. That’s where she asks you out for the first time, after having asking Lotte if you are into girls.

You said yes, obviously.

If you didn’t think that Leah must be interested in you, you were deeply charmed by the personality of the blonde. She’s funny, intelligent, great to talk to and you have a lot in common. And yes, you must admit that you find her unbelievably attractive. Like almost half of the population but hey, you’re just a girl.

Leah kissed you at your second date. She asks you at the fourth to be her girlfriend and introduce you to her family after six months of dating. Of course, they already have known about you. And you knew them thanks to the Arsenal VIP room. But it was the first official diner with the Williamson and relatives.

You are not living together for now, but you find yourself a lot at each other’s house. You love being at Leah’s, everything smells like her. But she loves being at your house too. At Christmas, Leah gave you the keys of her house and you gave her the keys of your flat.

You love her, a lot. And you know that she loves you back, even if those precious words were never pronounced to each other. At least you both know that you care for each other. A lot.

That doesn’t mean you never fight, to be honest. Not later than yesterday, you had a really stupid argument about something really stupid. But with Leah’s stress about football and her comeback and your proper tiredness thanks to your job, it was sometimes happening. Some means words were exchanged, and Leah ended up leaving your flat, slamming your door.

Stubbornly, you decided not to write to her. In your opinion, she was wrong, and it was even more wrong to leave the way she did. You were hurt a little bit too, by the argument and after by the fact that Leah didn’t call you or at least send you a message. Not the same night, not the day after.

Almost two days later, you still didn’t have talk to each other. You ask casually to Lotte how Leah is doing when you have her on the phone. But your cousin answers that she was Switzerland in your love life and that she didn’t want to be involved in anything. Unless it’s for marriage or children. So, basically, you don’t know how Leah is today.

You saw the video and the pictures posted by Arsenal’s admin on Instagram, but that’s all. You choose not to go to the game, not sure that Leah wants you here. It’s an important game though, so you decide to watch it on TV. Leah’s starting and it’s strange to see your girlfriend’s face on your TV screen. She’s focused, her glare well fixed on her face. Her blue eyes are piercing her opponents.

But that doesn’t help Arsenal to win today. It wasn’t a big loss, but it was a loss anyway. Leah seems particularly sad, and you feel your heart cracks. So, you decided to jump in a jean, in your car and to go to Arsenal’s stadium. Leah gave you a pass to access to the parking lot, so you just use it to get in it.

You know that Leah went to the game with Beth, so you’re not surprised not to see her car. But, when you get out from yours, you can’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable. What if Leah doesn’t want you here? Maybe your idea wasn’t as good as you thought at first. You almost decided to leave when Leah passes the door.

She’s looking at the ground, not listening to Beth or Laia Codina who are walking with her. The other blond spots you first and elbows Leah who looks at her. Beth then points in your direction and when Leah spots you too, she seems as surprised as she is relieved.

You don’t move, only waving shyly at her. She gives you a little smile in return, turning into Beth to says her something. You don’t know what it is, but Beth rolls her eyes and push Leah in her direction with her hand before mimic a kick in the ass.

“Hello” you say softly when Leah is next to you.

“Hi” breaths Leah.

You reach out to take her bag, putting it on the back seat of your car. Then you went to opens Leah’s door, but you cross her eyes, and she seems so upset that you can’t do nothing against that. So, you reach out to her again, so that she can grasp it this time. And, when Leah almost jumps on your hand, you take her delicately against you. She hugs you back, putting her face in your neck almost immediately.

“You played good” you whisper after some seconds.

“You weren��t here to watch” Leah objects, her face still in your neck.

“I watched you on TV.”

At your explanation, Leah pushes herself even more against you and you tighten your arms against her. No one like to lose obviously, but you’ve never seen someone with such an ability to take all the blame on themselves. You know that tomorrow, Leah would pass half of her day watching the game, analyzing her mistakes and noting them in her notebook. You hate that damn notebook.

“You still watched me?”

You can’t help but smile, hearing how small your girlfriend is when asks you that question. Leah Williamson, captain of England and Euro champion looks like a little girl right now. No one ever saw this part of Leah, or her mother only maybe. But you do.

“Of course.”

You could have tease her and answering that you wanted to watch Katie, but it wasn’t really the good timing. Leah takes a deep breath and release you, looking attentively at your face before trying another smile. You smile back and stroke her hair before nodding at your car.

“Can I take you home?”

“I’d love to.”

You don’t really talk during the journey to your house, but Leah captures your hand in hers almost immediately. She strokes your fingers and plays with your ring all along, looking out by the window. You let her, knowing with time that she needs some quiet sometimes to figuring things out.

When you get out of your car, you take Leah’s bag with one hand, your girlfriend’s hand with the other and go to the ascensor. In it, you can smell Leah’s shampoo and that’s make you smile. The blonde surprise your smile in the mirror of the ascensor and you just shrug. She doesn’t have the time to question you though, the doors opening just after.

“Do you want to order pizzas? Or I can go to Tesco to take you a ham sandwich if you prefer?”

“Nah, pizza is good Babe. Don’t worry”

You let Leah orders your diner, using this time to wash her dirty laundry before heading back to the living room. Leah had made herself comfortable, lying on your couch. But she stands when she spots you, making you frown.

“We need to talk. About our fight.”

You feel your face fall, hopping to never discuss your fight again. You hate fighting with Leah, and you hate the way you feel after. You were hopping that you can have like a silence contract to forget it. Plus, the We need to talk sentence is never really good. But Leah seems to understand really fast what’s happening in your head, because she takes your hand when she sits down on the couch again, taking you with her. You are almost sitting on her lap when she talks again.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I don’t even remember why the fight start, but I shouldn’t have left like that. It was childish and I’m really sorry. Are you still angry with me?”

You shook your head negatively, relieved to learn that Leah doesn’t want to break up or something like that.

“No, I’m not. To be honest, the same night I was more sad to sleep without you than angry.”

“Why didn’t write me?” Leah asks with curiosity.

“I wasn’t sure you’d answer me and I was afraid I’d be even sadder.”

Leah sighs softly, stroking your back. Her eyes are looking at you with intensity and you bite unconsciously your lip.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Leah asks you soon after.

You nod, taking advantage of your position to cuddle against her. Leah puts her chin on top of your head, and you can hear her heart when she talks again.

“I was sad too. I was hopping you will come to the game but when I didn’t see you, I realize how much I fucked up. And after the game, all I was thinking is that I will have to deal with the loss all alone. Almost everyone was going home to their partner and mine was probably angry at me. I just wanted to go home and hide under the cover. When I saw you in the parking lot, I was thinking of the best way to apologize and get you back. I knew it was my fault, but it didn’t ease the sadness of it, it was even worse I think.”

“Don’t say that” you mumble “It was my fault too. We were both arguing.”

Leah hums and you look up at her before kissing her cheek. It was nice to know how much your presence means to Leah whether it’s during the games or at home. You love being here for her obviously.

“But we’re good now, right?”

Leah smiles, with her real smile and you feel your heart fluttered.

“We’re good, my girl.”

Then you kiss her for the first time since the fight and you get lost in your embrace. The kiss is sweet, tender and you feel like floating somewhere above the ground. Maybe your exchange will change in something more passionate if your pizzas weren’t already here.

You eat them in front of the TV, but still cuddling against each other. Leah finishes her pizza first and takes you more against her soon after. She kisses your cheek several times, not really interested in the movie she picks before. When you feel teeth against the skin of your neck, you decide to forget your meal to roll on your girlfriend.

Leah smirks, happy to have all your attention and catch your lips in an intense kiss. You whimper, surprise by the intensity of it but didn’t waist time to answer it.

“Thanks for coming for me tonight.”

Leah whispers it way later, when you were under the cover of your bed, almost asleep. The pizzas were eaten, you forgot the movie to better activities and after that you took a hot bath.

Leah’s body is warm against yours and you hum at first for only answer.

“My pleasure” you mumble, half-hiding your face in her.

You yawn and Leah start scratching your neck, just like she knows you like. You only need thirty seconds to fall asleep after that. Leah needs a little more time, but she watches you sleep to pass time. She knows she’s lucky to have you and she swears to herself not to leave you angry anymore.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #leah williamson #woso one shot #leah williamson x you #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader

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cupidkenji · 9 months ago

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ghost in the machine

Pairing: Unsub!Spencer Reid x Agent!Fem!reader CW: Fluff, longing, mild angst, one paragraph with heavy implications of sex, cursing, mentions of reader being in a car accident, mentions of suicide and death, suggestive Ig? idk Spencer kind of taunts reader, if I miss anything please tell me! Summary: An unsub targeting local political powers starts calling you. With virtually no memories of your life before 15, you're tasked with finding out why his voice feels like home. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby. She's not physically described in this but reader is literally always a bigger person. Anyone can read but I wanna clarify <3 WC: 7.8k I lokey feel like I fumbled this one but this idea has been in my head since I saw a post about it like last month so i'm sorry in advance if it sucks 💀 I'm not saying looping ghost in the machine by SZA while reading this will elevate the experience but just know it's strongly advised and im even giving you a link to the song for easy access.

The fourth case this month. This was the fourth battered politician you’d forced into handcuffs while ducking away from the recoil of blood spewing from his mouth. The men you’d arrested had all protested strongly - and wetly - while being walked to the back of your cruiser, demanding to know why you were arresting them even though they were the victims. They were always the victims. They’d been burgled and beaten - yes- oftentimes you were restraining them while they sat in bathrobes or pajama pants, but this unsub always jumped the gun. Somehow they managed all this damage while simultaneously kicking the dirt that had been sedentary for years out from under the rug. The men would call the police themselves - I’ve been robbed, I’ve been beaten - always astounded when you’d taken their statement then turned them around and recited their Miranda rights. This unsub was meticulous, planned down to the second. Somehow, the media always broke the story hours after the arrest with full fledged details on the crime - ones the BAU didn’t even have yet.

The first time this happened, you’d questioned every media worker from Quantico to DC. His target zone never seemed to reach beyond that, giving you an offender right in your backyard. Those were always the hardest to stomach. Journalists, Newscasters, even cameramen had been turned inside out as the team scoured for any connection. He was just too good.

“How can it be just one man?” Derek spoke first, but that was the question all of you were about to ask.

“Wife and kids were outta town. It was a sleeping 50 year old man against the element of surprise.” Prentiss was right, it wasn’t a difficult job when viewed like that. “Description is consistent with all the victims. All black attire, mask over the face.” She flopped the folder down in front of her for emphasis.

“Either he has another guy or he’s incredibly tech savvy. Some of this information was encrypted, it would take weeks to compile all of this. If he’s hitting a new vic every week that’s not nearly enough planning time for something this orchestrated.” Hotch checked the time on his watch. “We’re not finding him tonight. The local PD are investigating. We don’t have clearance until tomorrow. Everybody go home and get some rest, we need to crack down on this.”

As much as you loved your job, the departure was a welcome relief. The day had drained you, you had to basically drag yourself back to the BAU for the regroup after the case. It was routine, and incredibly necessary as this unsub continued his streak, but your brain was mush, and you didn’t know if you were capable of any breakthroughs in your current state. You were grateful, currently, that at least you weren’t dealing with a serial killer. He had an agenda, that much was obvious, but chasing a serial killer for a month bred a different kind of stress than chasing an anarchist.

The AC blast that hit you upon entering your home seemed to steal the tension from your shoulders. It was summer, so on top of hunting an unsub who was essentially a ghost, you were also bearing through the violently humid nights. You locked the door, pulling up your sleeves as you walked deeper into your house. The lights were on, you never left them off for long, and your eyes locked on the pile of notes sitting on your counter. Three small papers, torn at every edge, were draped over each other. Evidence, you thought. You’d kept them for evidence. Once you told the team the unsub had been reaching out, you would show them the notes. It was that simple, you were planning to tell them. You didn’t know why the information hadn’t entered their radar yet. This unsub was clearly infatuated. You could be a valuable part of solving this case, the notes could be the reason you solved it at all. Those were words straight from the source, they would tell you more about the unsub than any crime scene analysis would. Something about them just stilled your tongue, though. You never particularly liked the feds, the cops, the higher ups. You became one of them begrudgingly, you’d been good at reading people your whole life. You wanted to solve things, see justice. It was never primarily about helping people for you, and you feared the reputational repercussions if your team members ever found out about that. You weren't ignorant, you had morals. You simply lacked the place of purity they came from, the virtue your team members carried was one you were void of. Half of the time you walked away from a case, you disagreed with the verdict, and you were ashamed.

You had only realized you zoned out when the phone rang, effectively breaking your gaze away from the notes and onto the ‘Unknown caller’ screen glaring at you from your cell. Morgan just got a new phone, you remembered. He’s probably checking in. You picked it up, stating just your last name in greeting as a reflex from almost exclusively talking to other agents.

It was quiet for a moment, reaching the period of time where your stomach knotted up and almost forced you off the phone. “Hey, Y/n.” The voice was a new one, it pulled at certain strings within you. You knew him, but you didn’t recognize him.

“Who’s this?” The spark of familiarity filled you with guilt. A car accident when you were 15 had stolen most of the memories from your childhood and left a bountiful amount of scars in their place. You barely remembered your own parents, if this man was an old relative, you definitely didn’t know who he was. As much as your family tried to be empathetic, you could tell it hurt them when you were none the wiser.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice.” The man was smiling as he spoke, you could hear it in his tone. “Your number was shockingly hard to find. Feds really don’t mess around, huh?” Your shoulders tensed, you looked around. Blinds were closed, your house was the same as when you left it. You're sure it wouldn’t be hard to find your address if he’d found your number. “I’ve been trying, believe me. I left those notes while I was looking, although it’s really not the same, is it? Phones are so revolutionary, I mean writing you a letter is one thing but it’s so underwhelming in comparison. A piece of paper doesn’t let me listen to you, doesn’t let me hear those little breaths you take when you get scared.” You didn’t even realize your breathing had changed until he called you out.

“Do I scare you?” He sounded so domestic, the contrast between the genuinity laced in his words and the actual words themselves just about knocked you over. “I hope I don’t. I’m not trying to.”

“What are you trying to do?” Your mouth felt sealed shut, just barely managing to grate out the words.

“If you’re asking about my agenda, I’m afraid that’s a private affair for now.” He was so casual about this, sarcastically sucking air in through his teeth like he was telling you he couldn’t meet for coffee next week.

“What do you need with me, then? You don’t want to share and you aren’t calling to gloat. What’s the point?”

You heard him click his tongue at the question. “Everything is so technical with you agents.” You could basically sense his lips quirk up, gaining some type of sick intuition for the man’s tendencies. “Maybe I just wanted a word with the pretty detective working my case.”

Your knees were trembling, your grip getting looser on the phone as you struggled to keep your hold through the tremors of your hands. You had to focus, you could take advantage of this. “Why politicians? What happened to you?”

“Personal grudge.”

“How do you get their data so fast?”

“I know a guy” He knew a guy?

“So you have a partner?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s no one of importance.” Sibling, maybe?

“It’s important to me.”

He chuckled at that. You needed to hang up.

“Y/n-” Could he sense your fucking muscles tensing? “Don’t tell your friends.” He could hear your heartbeat from where he was, you were sure of it.

“Why?” You were instantaneous, barely letting him finish before responding. “You gonna hurt me?”

“No.” He scoffed. “If you tell them, I’ll have to stop reaching out.” You swore you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. “Is that really something you want?” Cold sweat pierced through the skin on the back of your neck. You yanked the phone down from your ear and hung up.

No, it wasn’t.

–

You dreadfully greeted the sun as it peeked through the slits of your blinds. You’d slept maybe a half hour in total last night, sleeping in five minute increments while bearing through a paranoid haze only comparable to the first time you’d smoked weed. The world felt unreachable. You could see it like a screen but your true consciousness sat captive in his hands. He’d known you. That was the fact stuck in your throat, that’s why you couldn’t sleep. Does that mean you knew him?

“Jesus.” If you had to guess, the sight of your sunken eyes and hunched shoulders was the trigger for Morgan’s reaction to the sight of you. Walking into work wasn’t going to be fun, you knew that, but you hadn’t expected such an immediate acknowledgement. “Someone have a rough night?”

You wished you could banter with him. Morgan always made working here feel lighter, he was fun to be around, but you were guilty. If you were tired from a one-night, insomnia, even if you were drunk and puking your guts up all night, you would have joked back with him. Now, you had to force yourself to make eye contact. A childish part of your brain was scared he'd smell it on you. At this point, you were fraternizing with the enemy, and it’s repercussions were draped over you like a curtain. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Clearly.” He handed you a mug of coffee. “Is it the case? If it’s bugging you that much, one of us can stay with you for a couple nights. It’s no trouble.”

“No, Morgan, that’s not necessary.” He was so kind it was nearly suffocating. If someone stayed, he either wouldn’t call or you’d have to decline it. Both of those options making an uncomfortable amount of unease stir inside you. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.”

“Just tell me if you need anything.” He nodded at you, you nodded back, then you both headed into the conference room.

“Any leads?” You walked to your seat as you asked, unsure what you were hoping to receive as an answer.

“None.” Everyone else was gathered around the table, Hotch scanning through the file as he replied to you.

“We’ve pretty much ruled out the media workers.” Prentiss spoke up. “This guy’s most likely an anarchist. His previous victims haven’t belonged to a consistent party so he’s not lashing out at the opposing side.” She thought for a moment. “What path leads somebody to anarchy?”

“Maybe he’s been kept out of office.” Morgan started speculating, just trying to sweep together something they could pin to him. “If he’s been running long enough, maybe he gets angry, changes course. He could be jealous of his targets.”

Your brain was half focused on the case, half focused on him. Two sides of you were fighting, one instilling a sort of protectiveness over him, one howling at you to do your fucking job.

“I don’t think he’s an anarchist.” You leaned forward in your chair, revving up to present your theory. “He’s been described in the same outfit for every victim. Long Sleeve, cargo pants, gloves and a ski mask - all black. That’s as minimal as it gets. Some pretty low income areas are well within his safe zone.” You paused, looking around to see if they were understanding what you were getting at.

“He’s poor.” Hotch had a glint in his eyes. Almost.

“So - what?” Morgan prompted. “He’s doing this for money? This is way too elaborate for somebody needing cash.” He shook his head as he spoke. “Hotch, there was evidence of Scopolamine injections. A man who either knows how to make the chemical or already has enough money to buy it wouldn’t be in a position that warrants this. Plus, the kind of tech it would take to get the information he steals? Way more than your typical Best Buy - this is Garcia level stuff. He injects them and probably forces them to help with the robbing, he beats them senseless - he’s getting some kind of kick out of this.”

“He’s not poor” You concluded. “But I’m pretty sure he used to be.” You sat up straighter to elaborate. “A lot of times, kids who grow up homeless or with no money feel wronged by politicians. Here they are going to school hungry while the mayor rolls in cash and lets them bear the consequences of a put-off promise to help the community.”

Prentiss sat back in her chair as she considered your words. “To build this type of anger, though? This is a vendetta.” She glanced down at the crime scene photos as a reminder.

“Exactly. Anger is expected in normal cases. Something extreme clearly had to happen to explain this type of outburst.” Personal grudge, you remembered him saying. You felt like you were airing out his secrets as you spoke. A weak sense of betrayal tugged at your guts. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, going over what type of event could cause something like this and I think I have an idea.” You pulled out your phone while talking to call Garcia, the woman answering immediately.

“Garcia, can you look up children in the Quantico to DC area who died from complications with chronic illness? Probably late 90’s to early 2000’s, I don’t think our guy is old enough to have been running for office.”

“That’s gonna be a large list. Any more parameters you can give me?”

“Look for families making less than 20,000 a year.”

“Got it. There were three families making under 20,000 that reported losing a child of illness. One was of stage 4 cancer with no plausible recovery and the other two said they couldn’t afford the medication needed for treatment. I just sent them over.”

“You’re the best.”

“Don’t I know it.” You hung up the phone, pulling up the files she found.

“What exactly are we looking for here?” Morgan looked to you.

“We can rule out the first family. Dying of cancer wouldn’t create the effect needed for our unsub.” He looked like he was about to reiterate his question. “What we’re looking for is a sibling. If your family is struggling, you already have the seed of anger that this guy has. I think a family member dying from the lack of money might just give him the motive he needs.”

“That’s good thinking, he could be avenging someone.” Praise from Hotch always felt better than others. “The Bryson family was just the mother and the daughter who died. She worked in janitorial for the local middle school.”

“Doesn’t exactly fit the profile.” Morgan was right, all the testimonies had described a man. Plus the assumption of decent financial prosperity didn’t fit someone still working at a middle school.

“Who does that leave?” You were searching for the answer to your question, but Prentiss was quicker.

“Diana Reid and her two sons. Henry had type 1, seems like they could afford the insulin for a little while but something must have happened. He went into DKA and died a week later.”

Two sons. “What about his brother?”

“Uhhhh-” She scrolled down on her tablet. “That would be one Spencer Reid who…” She scrolled just a little bit further to find the whereabouts of the man, the hope in her eyes snuffing out with the information she read. “is dead. Says he committed suicide a couple years after his brother died.” The whole table deflated a bit as she said that.

“It was a good idea.” Hotch, despite being a monotone man, usually tried to keep things optimistic. “We’ll continue pursuing that angle. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to go back to the first crime scene. I’ll call Dave and we’ll head to the latest.” The mentioned agents nodded their heads and started making their way out the door.

Your eyebrows furrowed at your lack of instruction. “And me, sir?”

“Go home.” He looked you over for a moment. “You look like hell.” Then he was gone, calling Rossi on his way out. How mortifying.

–

It had been three days since Hotch’s dismissal of you. You managed to get some sleep, convincing your co-workers of normalcy when you went back into the office the next day. In truth, you were anything but. You had been noticeably distracted but the others chose not to mention it until it hindered your performance, which it had yet to do. You were on a timer, counting down the seconds until your next call with him. You seemed to be endlessly tugged back and forth between excitement and pure dread. Everytime you got home, you took a moment to stare at your phone, almost like you could will him to call if you glared at it long enough. The day was just shy of a week since his last attack, and you were nervous as hell. Your phone buzzed once, then it buzzed again. He was calling.

“You’re early.” You didn’t find it fitting to greet him. You knew who it was, why be friendly? “Is there another one?”

“Relax, honey.” His voice lit a fire in you. Jesus. “I didn’t know I was only permitted one call a week.”

“What are you playing at?” You tried to sound sturdy, but your voice hit your ears with more desperation than you’d ever expressed.

“I could ask you the same.” You could hear the tilt in his words, he was so sure of what he was doing. “You didn’t tell them about us.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m not in cuffs, am I?”

“You think we’d catch you if I told them?” Was it your fault he was still free?

“No.”

“Maybe they’re listening.”

“Maybe.” He was so unbothered by the notion. You were never a good bluffer.

“It wouldn’t bother you?” You narrowed your eyes at nothing, staring at your wall as you tried to read him through the phone.

“You could bring in the whole nation, Y/n.” You listened more intently than you ever had. “It wouldn’t keep me from you.” You felt like you were choking on your own heart, feeling it beat at the confines of your throat. Jesus Christ.

“Do you know where I live?” Your lips were too weak to hold back the question. It’d been the only thing on your mind since the first note had been left on your car.

“Why?” His smile bled into his words. “Are you inviting me over?”

“Answer the question.”

“Why don’t you answer a question of mine?” He was so intentional, his MO proudly showing in the way he spoke to you. “Haywood or Clancy?”

“Are those your actual choices?” You tried to analyze him, justifying your actions with the ruse of investigation. He’d tell you more if he wasn’t monitored. “Or are you trying to throw me off your trail?” It was certainly plausible. Get you running after two men not of interest, leaving his real victim neglected by your team.

He laughed, breathy and soft. “I don’t know.” You could almost picture him tilting his head, faceless and so enticing in your imagination. “Pick one for me. Maybe I’ll do him next in your honor.”

“What do you know about honor?”

“Everything I do is about honor.” What did that mean?

“The only thing that would honor me is you turning yourself in.”

“What do you know about honor, agent?” His voice was taunting, you heard his body shift. “What do you think that team of yours would think about us, hm? Those are their words, not yours. You’re the one who’s waiting on calls from the enemy.” Shock paralyzed your tongue. You felt your head pulse with the blood rushing to your ears. “You don’t have to be guilty about wanting it, honey. You don’t fit with them.”

“As opposed to what? Fitting with you?”

He chuckled. “You’ve thought about it.”

“Nightmares, maybe.”

“That’s the angle you're going with?” He saw through you. “If you dreamt of me, I doubt they were nightmares.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know where you are.” You didn’t feel relieved. “I have no interest in hurting or robbing you. Why would I want your address?.”

You slipped your hand under your shirt to trace the scar across your chest. Gift from the accident, now a nervous habit of yours. “What do you want?” God, you were a broken record.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Y/n.” You could barely hear him over the thrum of blood in your veins. Your entire body felt tuned into his words. You’d never felt so far away while connected. “Only what I can do.”

“You take everything from them. More than just money. Clearly you lost something.” You were so sick of asking this question but you were getting farther from the answer with every conversation. “Why are you doing this?”

“They made the first move.” Jesus what did they do to this guy? “I’m not the bad guy, honey. I’m just defending my side.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“It might as well be.” He was quick with his responses. “It’s all the same to men like them.” You stayed quiet for a moment. How did you reply to something like that? “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Give me less crime scenes to look at and maybe I’ll sleep more.”

He smiled, you could hear it in his tone. “Every mean has an end, agent.” You held your breath, and as if gaining consciousness, you hung up the phone. You felt the brick of the encounter sit heavy in your stomach. He wasn’t lying. You were guilty, and you wanted it beyond belief.

–

You’d talked to him four more times over the past two weeks. There’d been two more victims corresponding with those calls, continuing his routine of a new one each week. Your understanding of your feelings had become less hazy as you talked to him more. Your guilt wasn’t from withholding information from your team, it was from the fact you wanted to. It stemmed from your instinctual desire to keep him to yourself. Let him exist differently in your home life than he did in your work life. It was difficult keeping something from profilers. It made you feel worse that they definitely knew something was up, but chose not to push it because they trusted you. Did this truly make you untrustworthy? You were only human.

You’d spent what was meant to be your day off at the BAU working. When there was a case like this, rest time seemed to take the backseat. You were drained, more emotionally than physically. You were lying to your friends, but truly, you didn’t know how deeply you considered them friends. They were good people, easy to like and easy to work with. You were starting to wonder if that's where it stopped, though. Everything about their company was easy, but it lacked gratification. His company was hard on you, but it was so rewarding, so filled with feeling that you started to wonder what your morals even were. You wouldn’t find them here, you thought. You certainly tried. You stared into the chipped white paint aging poorly on the brick wall of the bar as if the pigment of the words would organize your thoughts better than your malfunctioning mind could. The liquid in your glass was nearing it’s end. The drink had loosened your joints, loosened your mind. You hadn’t come here to get drunk, you were basically still sober, you just needed the warmth of a drink. There was a certain coldness within you, there had been since the accident. You accredit the feeling with driving away any potential love interests of yours. There was always a sense of being stuck, like you were interrupted in the middle of moving on, and never fully got to close the chapter. This wasn’t hard for others to sense. You were as emotionally nonreciprocal and unresponsive as a corpse.

“Mind if I join you?” A man who’d immediately caught your eye upon entrance gestured to the barstool next to you.

You motioned to it. “Please.” A casual invitation. You didn’t know how to talk to random men in bars. You took a good look at him, something subconscious stirring beneath your skin. The minimal buzz of the drink you had making you write it off, preferring the focus of his eyes on yours.

“What’s your name?” The smoothness of his voice could have rivaled the most expensive whiskey in that place.

You told him your name. He nodded, murmuring a “pretty” under his breath as he took a sip from his glass.

“I’m Matthew.”

“Pretty.” You reiterated, raising your eyebrows slightly as you joked. He chuckled, and you asked if he was new to the area.

“I’m a local, actually. I grew up here, surprisingly never been to this bar, though.”

“Really? I grew up around here too. This place is old as dust, been here forever.” You looked down, finishing the last of your drink.

“I know. I’ve wanted to come here for a while because it’s so old.” Something about him was so off putting but so irresistible. You’d never encountered such an uncomfortable concoction. It was intoxicating. “I lost the knack for drinking I had in my teen years. Back then my friends and me would just buy a 12 pack and get drunk in the field on Fromage.”

You lacked the memories to know if you related to the man, but you weren’t going to delve into why and kill the mood, so you lied. “That field used to scare the shit out of me. Everyone at my school said there were bodies out there.”

His eyes held a certain glint in them when he looked at you, his lips perked up at the edges slightly, if you hadn’t been a profiler you might have missed it. “Really?” Maybe you imagined it all, that or he caught on to you, the look leaving his eyes after lingering for a moment. The slight promise of something more sinister pulsed throughout them. The hairs on your arm were standing. “Mine said the same thing.” He smiled, looking away, shaking his head fondly as he remembered. “My school was full of dumbasses though so I never really took it seriously.” And you laughed.

You laughed a lot throughout the time you sat there with him. A few hours, you’d guess. He lowered your guard so easily, walking leisurely through the gates of you. You’d practically rolled out the red carpet for him. You wondered if he could see how easily he got in, how much you welcomed the feel of him in your veins. He didn’t seem to mind if he could. When he’d wanted to take you home, your lips parted, and you said you’d like that. You don’t really remember driving, knowing one of you did, both of you sober by the time you’d left. He’d been so gentle, so all-consuming. He’d run his thumbs along the scars he encountered, punctuating the sensation with his lips following close after. Mumbling praises against your skin and rhetorically asking “does that feel good, honey?” as your legs shook around him. He melted you down to pure liquid gold with just his touch, knowing exactly how to map you out. You’d felt him everywhere, his fingers burning their respective shadows on your skin, seeping slowly into your soul to leave marks there too. He’d felt so safe, the pure want joining the two of you together. A euphoric distraction from all the disaster you’d let befall you. He was gone before you woke up the next morning, but you saw him in your shadow, felt him in the soreness of your legs. He’d been a deviation, something put in your path to confuse you. What a brutal fucking night.

–

The same day, you’d gone to work, gone home, and then ended up back at the BAU an hour later. There had been another victim. Two days early. This was his eighth, and up until now he hadn’t strayed from his weekly pattern. This was a bad sign, if he was ramping up, who knows how many more he wanted to hit. The story had stayed the same, and that night you were arresting another board member, this time for solid ties to human trafficking. He really knew how to pick them. You’d give him that, at least.

The meeting post-arrest basically just shared what you were all thinking. He was ramping up, and you were getting no closer to catching him. Stating the obvious was doing nothing but wasting time. He was good. One of the best you’d ever seen. Nobody really knew what to do at this point. You watched their faces get more and more helpless and you felt bad. Nothing in your calls with the man would have helped you solve this case, you were almost positive. Any aspect that could have helped was one you explored.

Emily had said the name ‘Spencer Reid’ and the way your stomach lurched made you feel like you had to be onto something. You’d never had such an intense gut feeling about something only for it to be absolutely impossible. You hadn’t told them, but you looked more into him. His death was an easy one to fake. As much as you hated speculating on what could very well have been just a heartbroken boy, you couldn’t deny the theory you were building. His mother had found a suicide note, they hauled a body out of the river a month later and just assigned Spencer’s name to it, marking it down as conclusive. You weren’t convinced.

–

You got home within the hour, locking the door and pulling out your phone. You hadn’t called him before, but it was the same number every time, and you needed to talk. The phone rang so long you were almost sure he wouldn’t pick up. Almost.

“Y/n.” He greeted you. “This is new.”

“You broke your pattern.” You started with the topic at hand. “Why did you do that?”

You heard a chair squeak slightly as he leaned back. “What can I say? You being so interested gave me some extra motivation.”

“Interested?” What the fuck was he talking about? “This isn’t - I’m not fucking interested in anything. You’re a criminal.” You were slightly out of breath. When you lied to him, no matter how small the lie, air seemed to gain a disinterest in staying within your lungs.

“Mhm.” He was smug. That wasn’t a good sign. “I don’t believe that. You seemed pretty interested last night.”

He had pulled a lever, and your stomach dropped to your shoes. “That was you?” You sounded as defeated as you felt. Your eyes were watering from the pure shock, feeling the drop of the bomb shake you down to your core.

“You kept tracing that scar on your chest, you know that?” You hadn’t known that. “Almost like you could feel it.” Feel what? He didn’t elaborate. “You sounded so pretty when I touched it, when I kissed you. Been thinking about it all day.” He was breathy, sounding like he was trying to put himself back in it as he spoke.

You steadied yourself before you opened your mouth. “You lied to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” He sighed. “You lied to me, though.” You hadn’t imagined it. “That field used to scare you?” He laughed slightly. “You were the one who told me about it. Took me over there once to look at the moon in the back of your dad’s pickup.”

God, this was frustrating. “Who are you?” The tears were dancing the border of your eyes, begging to run down your cheeks. “I knew you?”

“You know me.” He was so sure of it. “I’m still in there. Everything is.”

You had to ask, at this point you were near certain of it. “Spencer?”

He sighed, relief intertwining with his words. “There she is.” It was such a soft delivery, the moment he took before replying had you wondering if you’d said anything at all.

What kind of situation even was this? “Is this about your brother?”

“You know, when we were younger, my mother knew the mayor. He used to babysit my brother and me when she worked nights.” His tone was humorous, bitter, like he couldn’t believe the stupidity of what he was explaining. “I listened to him promise us he would change the community when he got the time. Get us a house with more than one bedroom, get us into a school system deserving of us. He used to call me a genius.” He scoffed at the thought. “Then my mom couldn’t afford the insulin, and he let my brother die.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“The payments wouldn’t have even made a dent in his pockets.” You could visualize him, alone in a room somewhere, that familiar crease between his eyebrows as he talked. You were going to be sick, you thought. “One man for every year my brother got to live. Seems only fair.”

“Two more to go, then?” You couldn’t identify a single thought in your head. All of them speeding past you like bullets before you could latch onto one. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah.” He sniffled, quiet and subdued. “It is.”

“I - um” A tear finally fell, breaking the dam. You wiped it away quickly, two more taking it’s place almost immediately “I have to go.”

“Y/n-” but you were gone already. You put your hand over your mouth, laughing into it slightly at the absurdity of your situation and sobbing into a moment later as you took the cold plunge into reality. You texted your parents, knowing they were asleep, asking if you could swing by when they woke up. If anyone would know something, it was them, and you had every intention of shaking them down to find out exactly how you’d known the man. You had to know. You spent the night preparing the questions you’d ask and trying to fall asleep. You were almost paralyzed with the weight of him on you. There was no getting out of it now.

–

The outside of this house always felt alien. You knew you’d grown up here, but it lacked any sense of home. You wondered as you stood out front how much Spencer had to have meant to leave more of a mark than the place you spent your first 18 years in. The sun was nearing it’s peak in the sky, it was almost noon. Your parents had texted back at eight am, worried and eager to know what was wrong, eager to see you. You’d fallen asleep barely an hour before that, waking up at eleven and quickly getting ready after seeing the text. You were scared. These were practically strangers to you, and you were betting an ungodly amount on them. That’s not fair, you thought. But honestly, nothing was fair, and you calmed your guilt with promise of filling the void in your gut. You broke your staring contest with the front door and leaned forward to knock, the thing opening almost immediately.

“Hey.” You spoke before they did. You found that being the first to talk usually decreased the amount of warmth in their greetings. “It’s good to see you guys. Thank you for having me, I know my texts were sort of alarming. I just needed to talk about something.” You held eye contact to the best of your ability. They brought out a deep feeling of shame, knowing they didn’t blame you for the distance but still being responsible for it nonetheless.

“Of course.” Your mother talked while your father looked down. “It’s good to see you too. Come in, please.” Your father broke from her side to go sit down, while your mother opened the door to usher you in. You stepped forward, nodding at her in thanks as you passed her, joining your father where he sat.

“Um…” You faced both of them as your mom took the place by his side. How did you even start this? “Well, in a case I’ve been working on, somebody came up.” You couldn’t tell them he was alive. “And he just…seemed familiar, I guess. Did I know a boy named Spencer Reid growing up?” You watched the sparks of recognition ignite in their eyes as you said the name. Your mother’s grew teary, while your father’s seemed to harden.

“Knew him?” Your mother chuckled at the thought of it being so simple. “You two were more in love than your father and I.” She rolled her eyes as she held your father’s arm, the man laughing lightly at her words.

“He was the first friend you talked about. I remember picking you up from the first day of kindergarten and listening to you rave about the boy who was ‘smarter than the teacher’.” Her tone got lighter at the end, seemingly trying to imitate the excitement of your adolescent self. “You two were always close, you know?” She seemed to remember him fondly. “When you got older, you would get so defensive if I asked after him so eventually I stopped. But I knew. I knew you two would end up together from your first playdate.” She was on the verge of tears, giggling at her own words as the stories she told surrounded her, smiling at the past.

“His family really struggled. Such a sweet kid, him and his brother both. They were over here a lot.” Your father took the role of speaker as your mother’s emotions got the better of her. “We went back and forth for a while after the accident on whether to tell you or not. It just seemed cruel to. He died the night before you got hit, and you were such a wreck we just -” He struggled to find the words. “We considered it a blessing you didn’t remember him.” Your father’s guilt was apparent, twisting his features slowly as he explained their choices. “You were so in love, sweetheart. You didn’t know who he was when you woke up and we figured, you know, what’s the point? When the only thing that could come from it was pain, it just seemed futile.”

You don’t think you blinked the entire time they were talking to you. You only knew you were crying when your vision went blurry, completely neglecting the beading of tears down your cheeks. You remembered the day your mother was talking about, seeing the children you once were illustrate the world in front of you. You could almost see his face, how it would have looked when he died, how he used to look at you. Like he was staring at the universe’s secrets, easing his hands through the veil to touch them - to touch you. You remember the feeling he gave you, something warm and distinct, reserved for the two of you only. If you could have seen yourself in the moments you shared, you’re sure you would have worn the same look in your eyes.

You started speaking, but couldn’t manage much. “Yes, yeah, you’re right.” Reassurance usually worked well. “It was a…a good call.” You had trouble with your words, remembering the feelings of him but lacking the visuals. “Do you have any pictures?” Your mother nodded in response, detaching from your dad and going to retrieve something that held the memories you sought.

“I’m-” Your dad started. “We’re sorry.”

You shook your head. Your parents were the last people who owed an apology. “It’s ok, dad. I’m glad you did it.”

“I could never myself look back at these. Thinking about what happened to them I just…I can never look at them knowing they’re gone.” Your mother re-entered the room holding a camera, dark pink and cheap. “It was meant to document your childhood, but he was around so much, it’s basically just a compilation of you guys.”

You held the thing in your hands. It was everything you wanted to happen but you couldn’t force your fingers to move. Did you even want this? He was alive, sure, but you’re certain the boy next to you in these photos would never see the light of day again. All your birthdays for thirteen years, field trips, science fairs, even just the two of you sitting together reading. It was all here. All consumable. You felt the urge to boil them down and burn your skin with the residue. Anything to keep a semblance of this life with you. You had a right to them, they were yours. Your teeth clenched at the sting of the absence. He had been yours and you couldn’t even remember. “Can I keep this?”

“Of course.” You’re sure the thoughts in your head were obvious to them, spinning like a cyclone in your eyes zoning out on the camera. “I’ve thought about giving it to you for a while now anyway.”

–

They’d made you lunch, then dinner. They told you tales of your past and you let them glance into your present. It was dark by the time you left, setting the goal to talk with them more. You walked to your car, having parked down the street, and tried to shake yourself out of the trance that house put you in. You thought you were seeing things at first, squinting slightly to focus on the chunk of passenger door that was shrouded with out of place darkness. Someone was leaning against your car. You didn’t feel defensive.

“Spencer?”

“Hey.” He pushed off the door and walked closer to you, facing you on the sidewalk. You could see him now, lit up by a streetlight. He took you in, too. Glancing at your hand and grinning. “I remember that thing.” You had forgotten you were holding the camera until now.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know, honey.” He shrugged, matching your exhaustion at the situation. “I guess I wanted to see how much you remembered.” He looked at you, his eyes just as bright as they’d been a decade ago. “How much I could make you remember.”

You sighed. God, if only it worked that way. “Do you want to-” What the fuck were you thinking? “Do you want to come over?” You’d looked through every picture on that camera. You missed him. You missed him in your space, on your bed, waiting for you at the bus stop. That knot of feeling stuck only wanted to unravel if it were his hands tugging at it. “I can drive us.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprise blending seamlessly with the undiluted hope he carried as a kid. “Ok.” He smiled, just a tiny lift at the corners of his lips. The image of that smile resting on his teenage face struck you so violently you felt it in your bones. You looked at him, starstruck. His presence was a trance of it’s own.

“Ok.” You repeated him, trying to elongate the moment. You weren’t sure when you’d be ready to look away. He’d have to move first, and he knew it, so he walked to the passenger door. You blinked, grounding yourself, and unlocked the car.

You were preparing for an awkward car ride, but clearly your subconscious was more than familiar with him, being silent with him came as second nature to you. You took the long way back to your house, trying to enjoy the comfortability as long as you could. He added an elevation to your existence that you hadn’t been aware you were lacking. You pulled into your driveway ten minutes later, parking and turning off the car.

“Did you really not know where I lived?”

“No.” He was looking out your windshield, taking in the sight of where you felt safest. “I meant what I said. I never needed to.

You walked into the house first, hearing him shut the door softly behind him. You’d been listening to see how he’d close it, not sure what it would tell you, but deeming it important regardless. He’d been nothing but respectful of your space both times he’d been here. You sat down, nodding your head to the chair near you.

He let a moment pass, waiting to see if you had something to say. You had too much to say, too much to articulate. “I want you to leave with me.”

“Spencer-”

“Don’t.” His eyes were pleading, glistening with his unique mix of hunger and control. “Don’t write me off, Y/n. Nobody would know. They’re not gonna catch me. You can quit, and we can leave.” You looked away, down towards your hands. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” It was all you’d been thinking about. Usually in dreams - obviously your mind was more up to date than you were. You were going to do it, you thought. Of course you were. You looked at him and knew you’d go anywhere he asked you to. Still, though, you had a life. One you needed time to wrap up before you could leave it. You were a federal agent, if you went missing, they’d send the entire nation to step on your heels.

“Can I think about it?

He looked at you, suppressing a smile and tilting his head slightly. “Sure, honey.” He could read you so easily. He’d known he had you from the moment he asked. “I’ve still got two more.” The burning in your stomach wasn’t a resistance to the words. It was an admiration, a feeling you could wallow in. You weren’t an opposing force to him. Had you ever been? Truly?

“What happens if I don’t go?”

His eye contact had a way of transferring, enveloping any part of you it could reach. You were testing him. “Don’t force my hand, Y/n.”

You didn’t plan on finding out what that meant.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #x chubby reader #x fat reader #x plus size reader #spencer reid x chubby reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid x fat reader #spencer reid fanfiction #suggestive #probably ass #im sorry for this #cupid:SR

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pluralescentmoon · 2 months ago

Text

as promised, the "pearl is a system who doesn't know it (yet)" propoganda totally-an-essay for @thecoolerliauditore

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS ABOUT THE CHARACTER. NONE OF THIS IS ABOUT CC!PEARL. I ALSO DO NOT THINK SHE'S DOING THIS INTENTIONALLY. this is just how I'm choosing to interpret her character, because it makes things a LOT more interesting. this also works under the assumption that life series pearl and Hermitcraft pearl are the same character, so if that's not your vibe, that's fine! this is just your warning. I am also not saying all alters in every system has specific roles, or triggers. and if you dont know what im referring to at any point in this post, please let me know! I'm just trying to explain my thought process in a clear and concise way, even for those who don't know specific details about those under the plurality umbrella.

mild wild life spoilers ahead as well! you've been warned!

so! pearl has a bit of an unusual habit of how she refers to herself. she tends to do it in parts. she gives them identities, names. roles. example of this being, post master pearl, the cleaning lady, scarlet pearl, editor pearl (yes this one too i PROMISE I promise it'll make sense). each of these are like specific "characters". they're masks she puts on, to play the part of that specific pearl. they have their purpose, their roles, their clothes (separate skins). each of them are similar, but still unique and distinct from each other.

each one of these pearls has a purpose, a specific role they play in her life. they're specifically called upon for their tasks. for certain things, there's a pearl for it. it's almost as if these pearls have triggers that pull them out for specific reasons that seem important to helping their shared body…

an example of this is, there was a point recently in Pearl's season 10 where she was rebuilding her storage room. and, she found herself in a familiar set of clothes. taking care of the mess, as the cleaning lady. which leads to interesting implications! c!pearl feeling like she needs to change into another set of clothes to do something like organizing her chest, and call herself a specific title while doing so

cc!pearl has even said she sees her character as having phases (like the moon lol). and that she likes wearing specific skins (clothes) for them.

I think these specific pearls, these segregated parts of pearl, are her alters. alters that have specific clothes they prefer to wear, triggers to pull them to the front, and roles they fill in the system.

now that brings up the question, what are their roles exactly?

we'll start with the easy ones!

Normal Hermitcraft Pearl - Host. the silly. she's a goofy gal, the one we see the most. she's also given these other parts of herself names, based on the tasks that they carry out. she just thinks she's putting on a few different masks for each of these characters, and does not realize what's going on at all.

Post Master Pearl - this would be the one who works in the post office, the one who wants to deliver the mail. she's their work alter! she mainly does stuff with the mail system, including building the top part of some mailboxes or retrieving the lost parcels

Cleaning Lady - this one feels pretty self explanatory. she likes to clean and organize, and I think she could be contributed to a caretaker, as I'm going to contribute the SOUP thing to her, since it was season 9 more than anything else. she's here to clean and make sure they have good meals, but gets stressed about it sometimes. she also absolutely has nightmares about Grian's storage prank lol

Scarlet Pearl - abandonment/trust issues given form, scarlet would be a protector/trauma holder. we saw her forming in double life! she's the reason pearl seems to go from being fine with Scott, to snarking him. i think host pearl is, consciously or not, trying to suppress scarlet pearl from fronting in wild life, as host pearl does want to be friends with scott again… because she doesn't remember the extent of her trauma from double life. not the full of it anyways.

I have a lot of thoughts about protector scarlet pearl ngl but we'll get back to that. there's one more alter to talk about first.

I also have some thoughts about her having a Santa Perla introject because of Sausage's influence, but that one is less solid. still, she gets an honorable mention.

and now the biggest one. somehow the silliest one, and also the one I feel the strongest about. editor pearl.

editor pearl is of course, a silly OOC joke… but the implications of her existing are so very interesting. if we take the videos to be how pearl remembers things, if we take them as how she would tell things to others, then this means there's things that are purposefully… cut out of what she remembers. things that change context, or that are even almost… too much to remember. it's like she has someone there, taking snippets of her memories away. making her forget them, making her retell events in different ways than others.

that's what editor pearl is.

editor pearl is the alter that takes care of their memories. she cuts out the parts she doesn't want pearl to remember, because they're too traumatizing, they arent important, or she doesn't sees them as worth remembering.

this affects how pearl sees not only herself, but everyone else around her. conversations are forgotten by her, but not by the other side. the way certain memories are framed change drastically when you can only remember the parts that someone else WANTS you to remember. editor pearl is a memory holder, who just wants to help their system out by keeping the Good parts. she's gives pearl what she thinks pearl will want to remember, which means pearl only tells the parts editor pearl approves of.

I think, with everything going on in wild life, pearl is well on her way to discovering just what's going on inside her mind. whether she wants to, or not. scarlet pearl can only be held back for so long, and pearl has been doing that for two sessions now.

oh, sure, scarlet was allowed to snark in the first episode. but the second episode, comparing it to Cleo's POV… there's things missing. things cut out. entire conversations left completely out of Pearl's version of the story.

I think editor Pearl and scarlet pearl are working together a bit. cut out the memories of scarlet saying she wants to throw up at the idea of being family. and so many other little lines. cut it all out, make it easier to remember, easier to deal with.

because, after all, they just want to do their jobs. they just want to help, to make life more bearable. to make everything okay. host may not want them to, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her…

but this isn't built to last. not with host pearl keeping scarlet locked away as tightly as she is. sooner or later, something has to give. and sooner or later, they'll figure out what's going on. I have a feeling it's going to be messy, because pearl (scarlet) doesn't like feeling like people thinks she's crazy. and this will only make her feel crazy before the end.

but it can't last the way it has been. eventually, something is gonna break. or, maybe instead someone.

this isnt going to go well for host pearl.

#pearlescentmoon #life series #hermitcraft #wild life spoilers #plurality #plural system

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nakimov · 2 months ago

Note

Good night🩷 I didn't know you were accepting asks at the moment, since I have a bad habit of only looking at the bio and not the "about me" posts. One idea that I think would be cool to write is that Reader dies and meets Okita and the others in Valhalla (before Ragnarok starts). Maybe they were a couple before he died and Souji waited for her to arrive in the afterlife. Maybe Reader was his first love that he never confessed to and now he got the opportunity again. Whatever you find most fun. I just think the idea of spending eternity with him is cute🩷

hugs from brazil🇧🇷🇧🇷🩷🩷🩷

Meeting Again in Valhalla

I had this sitting in my draft since August 23rd. So now I’ll be doing it!

Pairing: Okita Souji x fem!reader

Synopsis: You remembered how you died and it was heartbreaking. Now you had woken up to a peaceful scenery refusing to believe you’ve been reborn. No, you were in heaven. Now you really hoped was to see him again.

Warnings? hurt/comfort but mostly fluff.

WC: 1015

It was like everything went black after getting caught by the enemy and dying in front of him.

He must hate you… do you even want to see him again? The thoughts were intrusive and terrifying.

“It’s, okay Souji… you got it from here.” Moments before you were shot in the head by some officer from the Tosa clan.

You didn’t want to know his reaction and you never regretted your decisions. You died holding your beliefs to your heart— which was peace between all parties and to live without wars.

You never even got to tell him about your feelings. You rarely regretted anything, but when it came to not stressful times… there was no time for romance. You hoped he would live a long life and stay with Kondo-san.

As you stayed in Valhalla for quite some time as a soul now and wandering to new places in the heavens. You had saw some familiar faces from those who died during the Bakumatsu era. Kamo Serizawa was happy in his own new world. All you wanted was to finally settle down somewhere.

The Valhalla area for Japanese fallen warriors was huge. You casually always walked around greeting many of the warriors, heroes and citizens. Someone had called your name which made your heart stop for a minute. Huh?

“K-Kondo-san?!” You saw him wave at you. Why was he here? What happened?

“Wh-Why are you here?”

“It seems that I too, joined the heavens. Souji should be joining us soon, as well.”

“Why? What happened to him?” You were panicking but deep down, you really wanted to see him again.

“Last I saw him, he was too sick to move. He only had very little time left…” Kondo’s voice fell despondently. He was sick? You felt horrible for not being by his side.

“He never fully recovered from your death, you know…” Kondo crossed his arms as the two of you walked off in a different direction.

“I wish I could apologize for that, it wasn’t my intention… for what happened.” You were saddened but the two of you met up with Todo, Abiru, and Yamanami who were outside having a nice time eating ramen and drinking.

“Kondo-san?!” The three of them looked up and saw the two of you. Even Yamanami was shocked to see you and wondered where you’ve been. Todowas flabbergasted to see you as well but was glad to see you again.

“I see you three have stuck by one another.” Kondo was smiling knowing his Tennen rishin-ryu would stick together no matter what.

“Oh yes! We were waiting for you!” Abiru threw his arms around Kondo with tears in his eyes.

“You’re the fourth to join us and well… fifth,” Todo turned his head to you. Would you stay with them? If Souji soon joins the heavens and sees you, would he hate you? What did Kondo mean that he never got over your death?

You decided to stay with them since well… you had nowhere else to go. You only had them when you lived. You were quiet most of the time while Todo and Yamanami were talking up in Kondo’s ears.

Everyone seemed so, very happy… except for you.

As a few weeks slowly gone by as you waited for him to show up in heaven anxiously. You spoke to Kondo a few times about whether you should really stay with them, but he told you it was up to you, but Souji would want to at least see you once.

It turns out, that Kondo and Souji had buried your body and you dying affected Souji the most with regret.

So it was decided, you’d see him and if he doesn’t want anything to do with you… then you’d leave.

“Oh! He’s here! Okita-kun!” Yamanami shouted with excitement trailing in his voice. Huh?! Already?! Your heart rate must��ve spiked in multiple directions. You looked over to the side and saw him smiling and standing next to Kondo.

He looked… happy? Abiru had rushed over to him welcoming Souji with wide arms. As much as you wanted to jump in his arms as well, you kept your distance and felt too shy to say anything. Souji of course, noticed you right away and called your name.

You sulked down in your spot with embarrassment. You felt someone nudge you, Kondo was next to you. “W— Welcome!” You tried to say while covering your mouth.

“I can’t believe…” he was at a loss for words before wrapping his arms around your body. “I get to see you again,” he barely breathed out while squeezing you tightly like his life depended on you.

Yamanami was observing the two of you, he remembered how broken he was after you had died. Abiru didn’t know what was going on between you two considering he died before you did. Kondo, however, always knew… how much Souji loved you. He regretted never telling you sooner and you two knew each other for many years.

“Ya! I’m here as well!” You tilted your head to the side and smiled happily. He tried not to get emotional but he couldn’t help it. Even in all of the heavens, you could still shed tears.

“The others should be joining us soon,” Kondo had said hinting at Hijikata and possibly more members of the Shinsengumi.

“Oh! So that means I should stay and wait for them?” You questioned innocently.

“Why would you leave? I just got to see you again…” Souji pulled away from your side. He pouted but you had remembered Kondo’s words.

“I can stay if you want?” you offered, which Souji was flustered for a moment. He wanted that more than anything. He even wanted to die sooner so he could be with you again.

“I’d really like that,” he wanted to tell you his feelings and more. He never wanted to let you go away. You and Kondo mean too much to him.

You couldn’t wait to now spend your new life with him in peace and eternity, as for him as well.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #record of ragnarok x reader#okita ror #okita snv #okita soji x reader #okita souji x reader #okita soji #record of ragnarok okita #okita souji #snv okita #okita x reader #ror okita

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mirroredmemoriez · 2 months ago

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More Denlon Thoughts

From finally posting my comparison down below about the Denlon's and John, it made me spiral even more into them.

I have said it there above and I'll say it again- Jeff's test in my eyes accounted the fact his grief would slow him down. John wouldn't have of wanted him to be able to speed through it, especially due to the fact he's getting improv brain surgery. There was a bit of a reliance on the fact that Jeff wouldn't complete his test like, halfway through Lynn's. Which, I believe sometimes the fandom doesn't think about? Yes he's, ''Slow Ass Motherfuckin Jeff.'' However, if he wasn't Saw 3 would've been way shorter- Like imagine he showed up before Amanda was having her full blown breakdown? And or mid brain surgery. Another thing I mentioned is the fact that in comparison, Lynn is handling her test much better than her husband... And in turn this actually makes him seem even MORE slow than before. What we have to think about here is though, Lynn was not dubbed the ''best'' in regards to her medical pursuits for no reason. The playing field is working way more with her, the biggest stress and issue Lynn faces whilst going through her test is Amanda. Otherwise, if you took that factor out? Yes she may be using shit like a power drill but Lynn is a fucking amazing doctor. We get to see this even before she was kidnapped because it can be said she should've been there sooner, but when she helped that patient in the hospital she literally stabilised him in almost a minute flat whilst disregarding the other doctors inputs.

Lynn's test doesn't have her constantly facing her own grief and in comparison to Jeff? We don't know whether or not she even holds a shred of need for vengeance like he does. The most we know about the impact it has had on her, is she's now addicted to anti-depressants, neglects Corbett and her marriage is so fractured she's having an affair. One thing I'll hone on in here is the child neglect... We don't get to see the way Lynn does that as much as we do Jeff. The assumption is her long work hours and being out well... Having that affair! But also how active would Lynn have been in her children's lives even prior to Dylan's death? She to me is the main ''breadwinner'' let's say and Jeff is more so the one who is regularly looking after the children, because Lynn is a literal brain surgeon where generally surgery can last from 3-5 hours to even 5-7! How much did her role as a parent change when Dylan died in regards to how active she is in Corbett's life?

Shuffling back to the games- It's also such an interesting concept to think of Lynn going through Jeff's test, I stated this before in my previous post but it's still an ever running thought for me. Jigsaw tests tend to always be specifically designed for the person within them- In the Denlon's case they're being tested for almost the exact same reason... They are husband and wife after all. So although I don't think that means oh yeah they can be inter switched! Everything is still very close to home for the both of them. Like if Lynn was face to face with Timothy Young the way Jeff was, that is the man who killed her son. Mistake or not. It's whether or not she can or wants to forgive. Lynn in theory and I guess also in practice really, is good at detaching her emotions from what is at hand. Does she like John? No- But will she ignore that in favour of living? Yes! The same way possibly in her career she has had to save the lives of people morally she doesn't agree with. However, as previously mentioned- This is so much more closer to home. So does that all go out the window for her? We just don't know.

I'll stop here for now because I'm a mad man who rambles too much- Thanks for reading if you've got this far down! -MAL OUT

#lynn denlon #jeff denlon #corbett denlon #dylan denlon #saw #saw iii #saw 3 #saw 2006 #saw study #character study #saw franchise #saw movies #sawposting

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malarkgirlypop · 5 months ago

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MEDIC! Part 33 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Whoops I was supposed to post this ages ago, also all my promises of fixing the situation may have been a small lie. But I'm sure you will all forgive me!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, not hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @imusicaddict, @b00ks1ut , @mstiemountainhop, @awaterfalls anyone else please let me know.

The CO’s had kept quiet about my outburst, which I was thankful for. But they now also avoided me, like Don. There was nobody else to blame but myself. I sighed, massaging my temples with my fingers, the stress of the war was supposed to be over, but here I was making it harder than it needed to be.

I hardly saw the rest of the troops often, they were so busy with training and when they were finally done, all they wanted to do was sleep. I was back to my loner self.

My strolls had turned into hike’s, I walked as far and as long as I possibly could until the sun started to dip behind the mountains.

I strolled through one of the small villages, it was one of the more busy places. It was always hustling with life, with markets, shops and bars that lined the street.

“Emily?” A feminine voice called to me. I glanced over my shoulder to find one of the field nurses that I always spoke to when I went to the aid stations.

“Ruth!” I beamed at the pretty lady as she approached me. When she was close enough she pulled me in tight for a hug. We hadn’t seen each other in a while due to no one really needing to go to the aid stations.

“How have you been?” I asked as we pulled away from each other.

“So good, this is like a mini holiday! They don’t have much for us to do, so most days the girls and I just sightsee, before they decide they want to ship us all home again.” Her smile was infectious, I found myself grinning back at her. It didn’t help that this was the most human interaction I had gotten in a while.

“Oh well you deserve it. You ladies worked so hard.” I said as I squeezed her hand.

“What about you? Do they still have you working hard?” She asked.

“No, there is nothing much for me to do. The men are all busy training for if they are needed in the Pacific.”

“Gosh those poor men. I hope they don’t have to go, I heard it was diabolical over there.” Ruth shook her head, a worried look crossed her features. It didn’t last long as she turned back to me and gleamed.

“You know what, the girls and I are going out for drinks tonight!” Ruth’s eyes lit up as she told me.

“That’s so fun!”

“You should come along. All the nurses would love to see you, and it’s just us, so we can have a girl’s night.” Ruth took hold of my hands and squealed with excitement.

“Me?” I asked.

“Yes of course. We all went out yesterday and came back with gorgeous dresses. So we are ditching the uniforms and going all out. Please say you’ll make it!” Her face watched me eagerly.

“I can come. I think I have a dress somewhere, but I don’t have any makeup.” I thought back to the dress that Renee had given me, which felt like years ago. I hoped that it was still in one piece, I hadn’t looked at it since she had given it to me.

“Why don’t we buy some?” The brunette pointed over at one of the shops that lined the streets. I hadn’t gone into any of them since I didn’t have any money.

“I would love to. But I didn’t bring any cash with me.” I grimaced at her. “Plus I don’t have much. I send it all home.” I lied.

“That’s no bother, it’s on me.” She didn’t let me utter another word dragging me along behind her.

We spent an hour in the shop as she swatched at least every product. Ruth said she wanted me to have something to bring home.

“Lipstick, mascara and eyeliner!” She begged.

“I can’t let you buy all of that for me, it's too much.” I tried to get her to put back the items but she moved them out of reach from me.

“No, it’s the necessity for a night out. I picked out the prettiest red shade that will match your complexion so well!” Ruth popped off the cap of the lipstick, twisting it out of the tube.

“Come on Emily, you’ll look so pretty, you might even catch a good looking man or two.” Ruth winked at me. I hid my laughter behind my hand.

“Fine!! But you’ll have to let me buy you a drink.” I would have to steal some cash from Lieb or someone, I would give them all of the smokes I had stashed away.

“Deal!” Ruth nodded in enthusiasm as she trotted off to the counter to pay.

I said my goodbyes, thanking Ruth again for all of the goodies she had brought me. She had told me she would send a car around 5 o’clock to come pick me up from the base.

We parted ways with a hug and ‘see you later’.

************************************************

I touched up the lipstick that Ruth had kindly brought for me. She was right, it did suit my complexion. I had never been one for bright colours, I felt like it drew too much attention, I normally avoided it. But with the soft blue dress Renee gave me, it made me look that much more put together.

I had showered and shaved, even going as far as styling my hair. Not that I could do much with it, my curls had gotten so long that they nearly touched my butt.

I had taken the sides that framed my face and pinned them up, sporting a half-up half-down look. I left small curls around my features that sat on cheekbones, giving me a softer appearance. I applied a generous amount of mascara and tight-lined my water line, making my lash line appear thicker. I didn’t need to wear blush. My pale skin always had rosy cheeks and a sunkissed nose.

Standing back, I took in my appearance in the mirror. A girl stood in front of me, one I hadn't seen in a long time. She looked young and pretty, surely that wasn’t me.

I brushed the non-existent lint from the front of the dress nervously fidgeting. What would people say when they say me, I wonder if they think I’m trying too hard?

Renee’s dress was beautiful. The material was satin so it shined in the light. The sleeves came above my elbows and were slightly ruched down the seams, same for the neckline. The material was pleated at the tops of my shoulders that continue down to under my breasts, which accentuated the curves of them. The fabric parted in the middle, letting my cleavage slightly show. The waist hugged mine, giving me an hourglass shape, the skirt then cascaded down to just above my shin.

I looked so elegant.

My watch read ten to, so I got a move on. Stashing the cash I had nicked from Lieb in my bra, before taking one last glance in the mirror before heading out the door.

I made it to the street where the car would be coming to collect me. I was early, so I stood on the side of the road letting my mind wander. I was away with the fairies, I didn’t notice the men had all finished their training for the day and were making their way back home.

“Guten Tag, baby doll.” I heard from behind me. I turned around to find a smirking Lieb, I gasped in shock taking a step back. His face dropped, mirroring my horror.

“YOU’RE A GIRL!” Lieb yelled, pointing at me. I looked at the man incredulously.

“What?! Lieb, what the fuck.” I tried to get him to keep quiet, bringing my finger to my lips. Lieb continued to gape at me.

“I’ve always been a girl, what are you on about!” I growled at him, trying to keep my voice low. I didn’t want all the unnecessary attention.

“No, you’re not a girl all the time.” Joe tried to counter.

“I am always a girl. What do you think when I put on my uniform I magically grow a cock and balls?” I quipped at the speechless man who was still staring at me in disbelief.

“Ew, I thought you were someone else Em.” Lieb said astounded. I scoffed at him. He pretended to give a disturbed shiver. I think he was more weirded out that he had flirted with me.

“Just tell me I look nice, you dick.” I shook my head at him.

As luck would have it the rest of the Easy men strolled right past us. Lieb and I spotted them at the same time, I waved my hands in front of me trying to stop what I knew was about to come next.

“LUZ COME LOOK AT THIS!” Lieb cupped his hands around his mouth, echoing his voice across the distance. The group walking with Luz turned their attention onto Lieb, who enthusiastically waved them over.

Luz came bounding towards us, as the rest of the men slowly made their way behind him. George glanced at me, giving a polite smile and turning to Lieb. His head snapped around to look at me again, doing a double take.

He gawked at me for a second before sobering. A charming smile plastered itself onto his face as he closed the distance between us.

“Oh my who is this pretty dame?” Luz bowed like an idiot. George took my hand and kissed the back of it, grinning up at me like the Cheshire cat. I pretended to swat him away. The rest of the men had finally made their way over to us.

“Darlin’ don’t you look beautiful.” Bull beamed at me.

“Thank you Bull. See Lieb, that is how you pay a woman a compliment.” I smiled at Bull as he winked at me. Lieb rolled his eyes, sending me his signature smirk.

Babe scared the living daylights out of me as he sprinted towards me, not looking like he was about to put the brakes on at any point. I squealed as he grabbed my waist, hoisting me up above his head and spinning us in a circle.

“Look at you Em.” He placed me back on the ground keeping his hands on my waist, I grinned at him.

“Someone taking you out?” Lip asked from behind as Babe stepped back. The men grew quiet, their brains firing all at once. Before I could answer there was an uproar of sound from the guys.

“Who’s the man? Is he picking you up? Is it Malarkey?” Lieb asked sternly, the other men doing the same.

“Where are you going, why do you look so nice?” Babe's voice was overlapped by the other voices.

“Malarkey never mentioned he was going out tonight?” Lip mumbled. I looked around at the men as they rambled on.

“HEY!” I pulled their focus back onto me.

“Firstly it’s none of your goddamn business, but if you must know, no I am not going on a date. I am going out for a drink with the field nurses to a local pub. I don't know the name, and their car is coming to pick me up in about 4 minutes, so you all need to scram.” I took a breath after I answered all of their questions.

“And no Malarkey is not going to be heartbroken, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I looked towards Lip who smiled at me. No one had caught on that we were fighting, since they all thought I was going out with Don tonight.

I watched Luz turn in a circle looking for said man. But he was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t you think he should see you before you go?” Lieb asked, tilting his head as he did so.

I didn’t get time to answer as a car horn honked from behind me. Ruth waved at me from the passenger seat, smiling brightly at me.

“Em, get in.”

I waved back at her, nodding my head. I turned to the men standing in front of me. “I’ll see you all later. Don’t wait up!”

The men said goodbye as I headed towards the car, climbing into the back seat where a few of the other nurses sat. I turned and gave one last wave to the group on the side of the road as the car pulled away from the curb.

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

Chapter 34

#heheheh #i was lying when i said i would rectify the situation #but let's see how this plays out #emily lane #donald malarkey #hbo war #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #easy company #dick winters #ronald speirs #lewis nixon #emarkey #joe liebgott #george luz #carwood lipton #bull randleman

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imfinereallyy · 2 years ago

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Am I a Taylor swift girlie? No. Cannot I not resist the swiftification of steddie because of this post? Also yes. This is for all the swifties and @harringtonisms who inspired this post.

“You know, there was a brief moment where I thought about proposing to Nancy.”

Eddie almost chokes on his beer, and Steve has to lean over to pat his back. Steve can’t help but feel a little bad for startling him.

“Excuse me, what?” Eddie turns his head to Steve, finally calmed down. Steve thinks the pool lights reflecting off his pale skin makes him look even prettier than usual. It feels unfair.

“Sorry, we’re talking about life and stuff, and it felt natural to bring it up!” Steve shrugs his shoulders, regretting saying anything in the first place.

“I was talking about how we should all move to Indy, and you thought to bring up how you almost proposed to your high school girlfriend at, what? 16?”

“17.”

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie wiped a hand down his face. “The longer we are friends, the more deeply unsettling things I learn about you. Just when I think there can’t be more, boom! You hit me with another thing, Stevie.”

Steve feels himself get prickly, “Hey man, no need to be a dick.”

Eddie’s face softens, “Sorry. Sorry. Took me by surprise. I am a little curious, though. If you’re…still willing to share.”

Steve takes in Eddie for a moment, debating whether to explain. He knows he can trust Eddie. He trusts him with his life, and, more importantly, the kids' lives, and he knows most of Steve’s secrets. And Steve looks at Eddie, like really looks at him, and knows that even though he will make fun of him, he won’t judge him.

Steve is starting to learn the difference.

“The summer between my junior and senior year, things with me and Nance started to turn sour. Right after the first round of the Upside Down, we broke up for like two weeks. I hadn’t known at the time, but I think it was because she was waiting for Jonathan to make a move.”

“Shit dude, that sucks.”

“It’s fine. Stupid high school love triangle. Felt like the end of the world at the time. The irony is not lost on me.” Steve pats around his pockets for his cigarettes. The one secret Eddie is privy to that Robin is not. He only does it when he is stressed or drinking, and now he is exposed to both.

Steve puts one in his mouth and lights up; he motions the pack to Eddie in offering. “Thanks, man.” Eddie takes the cigarette and leans into Steve, the motion familiar, almost routine. Like Eddie knows he shouldn’t bother to ask for the light, that Steve will do it for him.

Steve flicks the lighter open while Eddie cups his hands. Steve doesn’t move away when Eddie blows smoke in his face. Steve will take it. He wants desperately to take it directly from his lips, exhale the taste of menthol and Eddie’s tongue, but he can’t. So he’ll take this.

“So summer it turned sour?”

Steve clears his throat, leans back a little but doesn’t move away completely. He rests his elbows on his knees. “We got back together after those two weeks, and suddenly it was like Nancy was clinging to me. Well, in the most Nancy way possible, which isn’t much, but for her, it was a lot. It was like she needed to prove to herself she was making the right decisions. When summer came around, though, I think everything settled in for her. The Upside Down, Barb being dead, me being unfit for her.”

Steve takes a drag, “She started criticizing me a lot. Saying I wasn’t committed, telling me I’m unfocused. That I didn’t understand. That I was pushing things aside. It was a bit unfair of her, considering she didn’t really want to talk about things; she didn’t want to explain, she just wanted to do what she wanted. I mean, I can’t really blame her—her best friend died, and it was my fault—“

“Sweetheart,” Eddie tries to cut him off,

“Never mind, off-topic.” Steve waves his cigarette hand in the air. “Anyway, in the summer, I took that as she saw me not committed to her. That I wasn’t focused enough on her, and her wants. Which, in retrospect, probably was naive of me, but I was 17 and madly in love with her. So I thought about proposing. The thought maybe lasted a week, right before school started. I thought, ‘This will show her I care. That I am in this.’ It didn’t seem that crazy to me at the time. I mean my parents got married at 18, had me at 22. It wasn’t exactly out of the normal. I even bought a ring—“

Steve laughs manically for a moment, while Eddie stays silent.

“—which was insane of me. It wasn’t a nice ring, either. I had to use the money I saved from lifeguarding. Which wasn’t much, so it was a dainty little Diamond on a small band that I found in a pawnshop in Bloomington. But like I said, the idea only lasted about a week. Once school started, Nancy got really distant. And my parents came home, and I was reminded about why you shouldn’t get married at 18. So I just let the thought go, kind of. But I held on to the ring, because I think part of me still held on to the idea. And then the ‘bullshit’ incident happened, and well, you know the rest.”

“Jesus, Steve. I’m sorry.” Eddie’s cigarette is almost down to the filter, the ash building up at the end. He barely hit it the entire story.

“Not your fault, Eds. I think she was kind of, right anyway. We weren’t right for each other, and I was more worried about being normal, and moving on that I didn’t let her move on the way she needed. I wasn’t the best, even now. I get it. I…”

“What?” Eddie moves closer, their knees brushing against each other. Steve can’t look him in the eye. “What, Stevie?”

“I wouldn’t marry me either.”

Eddie takes in a sharp breath. The sound cuts through Steve so suddenly he wipes he head up to face Eddie.

When Steve’s eyes meet Eddie’s, he isn’t expecting the tears. He isn’t expecting the softness. He certainly isn’t expecting Eddie to cup Steve’s face with a tenderness he hasn’t known since he was a child. “You don’t really think that do you?”

Steve’s frustrated voice turns into a soft whisper. “Of course I do. Eddie, I wouldn’t want to stick around someone like me. I’m broken beyond repair, and the only thing I would have going for me is money, and it isn’t even mine. Like I said, the ring I bought isn’t even nice.”

“Show me it, trust me, if it’s anything like you, I bet it’s beautiful.”

Steve chokes back a sob, “I pawned it back, actually. Months ago, for Robin’s birthday. I bought her that chunky turquoise ring she wears on her pointer instead.”

Eddie laughs, a small wet one. Steve knows he’s thinking about how often Robin accidentally smacks people in the face with it, but adamantly refuses to take it off. “Good, Buckley deserves pretty things.”

“That’s why I keep telling her to take a shot at Nancy.”

Eddie gives a big laugh this time, his hands still clinging to Steve’s face. The laugh sends vibrations through Steve, making him feel warm and safe.

“That’ll happen, I guarantee it, but it will take ten years. Going to be some rom-com kind of story for them to get it together.” Eddie brushes the hair from Steve’s face. A thumb caresses his cheek. “Steve, I don’t think I’m the best person to unpack all of that. Truly I am a disaster of a human being when it comes to love. But I do know that anyone, and I mean anyone, would be lucky to have you. Nance didn’t see it—or maybe she did and knew she wasn’t right for you. I don’t know. But someday, someone will not just want to marry you, but need to. They are going to want to keep you forever and do their best to accomplish that.”

“I don’t have much, Eddie. I’m just an empty shell, with an empty wallet, going nowhere. Who would choose me?”

Eddie leans back, taking his hands away from Steve’s face. He doesn’t move very far, but he looks up at the sky and whispers, “Oh, Steve. You just don’t see how amazing you are. You don’t need anything for someone to want you.”

Steve doesn’t want to break whatever moment Eddie is having, so all he can manage is a simple, “Yea?”

Eddie looks back at Steve, really looks at him, and says,

“I’d marry you with paper rings.”

Steve breaks a little. In a good way, in a needed way. Like he is breaking himself open to see what’s inside. And inside is this unwavering love for a man who he calls one of his best friends. Steve isn’t sure what to say, really. Eddie’s unwavering stare says he understands. That he doesn’t have to say anything at all.

Steve grabs his empty beer bottle and peels off the label, and starts to roll it and twist it into a tiny circle. He grabs Eddie’s hand and puts the makeshift ring on his finger.

Steve brings their conjoined hands to his mouth and kisses the back of Eddie’s. “Me too.”

***

Sue me, the 10 minute version of All to Well is a masterpiece and it would be silly to not admit it.

also this is unedited…like I wrote this and ran. Thinking about doing another version with the quotes reverse because I have an idea.

#steddie #stranger things #taylor swift #i honestly don't know if I did this justice #but I hope you enjoy anyway #can't resist making these boys soft #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #hurt/comfort #happy ending

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strangedreamings · 8 months ago

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S3E1 (spoilers abound)

Already saw the first 5 minutes on Tudum. I'm firmly in the "Colin didn't see Penelope when he arrived, he was too busy looking at her house" camp. It's sweet that Pen as LW singles out the new debutantes and tries to prop them up.

I love that one of the debutantes is deaf, more diversity on this show is a good thing.

Ah, Francesca's been in Bath since the beginning of S2, thank you, Violet.

"If I can be at ease in the chaos of our home, surely I shall find my way in the Season." Truer words never spoken, Frannie.

Francesca's not the Diamond? WTAF?

Those fucking sheer gloves. I hate them SO MUCH. Long gloves were for modesty, making them sheer makes them pointless. Somebody fetch me the costume designer, I just want to talk.

So Eloise is already "friends" with Cressida and it looks like she is trying to protect Pen from her. We'll see how long this lasts.

Can we nominate Jessica Madsen now for the Emmy for Best Supporting Actress in a Drama Series? I always hate Cressida but if, as rumored, we're going to sympathize with her this season, then I'm sure Jessica will knock it out of the park.

I love that Violet and Kate are getting along so well. I'm also thrilled that Violet doesn't approve of Eloise being friends with Cressida.

"I will move into a dower house as soon as I find one." Oookay, 15 minutes into the first episode and we have our first error. Dower houses aren't something a dowager FINDS, it's a (relatively) smaller house on an estate that the family already HAS. What Violet is looking for is a TOWN house in London since the Bridgertons should already have a DOWER house at Aubrey Hall!

Shonda, please, hire me as a script doctor. I assure you I'm affordable.

Lady Danbury: "Lady Bridgerton." Violet and Kate: "Yes?" I love that and I'm sure Agatha did it deliberately, it's cute.

Colin, dearheart, what in the actual fuck are you doing? Flirting shamelessly is only going to get you in trouble.

Lady Cowper is a bitch but we already knew that. I wonder if she took as long as her daughter to find a husband.

Wow, Portia really has given up on Pen finding a husband. This is giving me "Like Water for Chocolate" vibes (I hated that movie, so it's not a compliment).

Error #2. Unless I'm wrong, this is Spring 1815. (According to Wikipedia, Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story had Princess Charlotte dying in November 1814, three years before her real-life counterpart.) Emma wasn't published until December 1815. Yeah, we're talking about only a few months and the book does match what El is going through, but still.

Great, another El & Pen fight. El, you can pretend all you like (and you're not even doing a good job) but you are MISERABLE without your best friend. Someone El respects needs to tell her off so that she'll finally grow the fuck up.

Benedict took care of the estate while Anthony and Kate were on their honeymoon? Um, Anthony, WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A STEWARD?! You know, a person you PAY to look after the estate for you instead of asking your brother to do it for free! It gave him something to do, which I'm sure was Anthony's intention, but still!

The Mondriches have just joined the nobility! Well, their eldest son has. Oh boy, Alice is not happy. I don't blame her -- her stress level just increased a hundredfold.

I need to do a @regencyama post about titles, specifically inheriting them. With the Featheringtons and now the Mondriches having a son inheriting from his mother's bloodline, I need to emphasize how rarely this happened in real life. Good on Shonda for including the concept but really, did it have to happen twice in the same episode?

NEWTON!!! Bestest boy ever!

I know that ballroom! Lady Danbury's ballroom either is or is inspired by the Marble Hall at Kedleston. I'd know those columns and the lines of black-and-white panels anywhere.

Pen, honey, your entrance would go better if you didn't look FUCKING TERRIFIED. Albion is a sweetheart, he's the best brother-in-law for Pen (well, on her side). Oh good, she's finally smiling. Portia! How can you think that's a bad color for her? Is she a little color blind? That would explain SO MUCH.

Suddenly get thirsty there, Colin? LOL He has no idea what's coming.

Some of the (presumably) eligible men are finally noticing Pen. How long before Colin steps in? Oh, Pen, you are so awkward around people you don't know well, glad to see that hasn't changed (yet).

El and Cressida talking to some of the new debutantes while Pen is still being awkward with the men. Forget flirting lessons, she doesn't even know how to just talk to men. And El, lowkey making fun of Miss Hartigan for liking embroidery. Grow up, El. At least this girl is true to herself, unlike someone I could name.

Fife is giving off the CREEPIEST vibes as he talks to poor Frannie. What do you bring to the table, good sir? A title? Look around -- titles are a dime a dozen. Surely you can do better than that.

That's what sets Fran off? This scene was one the clips that Netflix released early. I assume the gentlemen had said something offensive but they simply asked her who she is beyond her hobbies. Well, she has been doing nothing but practicing the pianoforte for what, two years now? Maybe she feels there really isn't much to her than that. Well, she's what, 17 now? She's got plenty of time to find herself.

I love how sympathetic and sweet Pen and Frannie are to each other. They're like sisters already.

Cressida with a steel chair! Seriously, there would be a small room off the ballroom reserved just for mending dresses -- tears happened all the time, as well as melted wax dripping from the candles in the chandeliers, spills, etc. But back to Cressida -- she must think very lowly of herself if she truly cannot abide any competition at all.

Too little, too fucking late, El. Choke on your apology, it's neither needed nor wanted. (I love El but haven't liked her for a long time, if that makes sense.)

Another scene Netflix gave us early -- Pen confronting Colin about what he said about her the end of S2. She was already having a bad night and Colin being all smiles was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Uh oh, Pen's writing a new LW column without even getting changed first. Honey, you're writing this in anger, you're probably going to regret at least half of it.

Portia's sweating now with that phony document about the title being questioned. Oh, this guy is threatening her, in that so very English way.

Ooo, are we finally seeing the real Cressida?

A whispering bench! Sorry, I have the tiniest landscaping nerd inside me.

Looks like Kanthony will have a three-month-old with them the beginning of the next Season.

Colin comes the morning after to apologize. Good boy. Still clueless, but good boy.

The Mondriches at their new house and their eldest boy is addressed as Lord Kent. I'm horrible at guessing children's ages but I think this kid is a preteen at most and his life just changed forever.

I will say the portrait of Edmund and Violet is very good. (I assume it's an actual painting and not a photo that has undergone Photoshop or whatever.) Have the writers made Francesca aro? Or at least demisexual? It'll be interesting to see where this goes.

I fucking told you you'd regret that column, Pen. The funny part is that she's not wrong about Colin, but she's certainly not nice about it.

Colin, for fuck's sake, MARINA AND ELOISE RUINED THEMSELVES! If LW hadn't said anything, things actually would have gone a lot worse for Marina, El, your whole family, and especially you, so shut the fuck up.

Four whole minutes of end credits, seriously?

Well, that was certainly an interesting start to both the Season and the season.

#bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton s3 spoilers #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #cressida cowper #francesca bridgerton #kanthony #polin

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mr-nauseam · 3 months ago

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Eventually this day was going to come because I have a lot of lgbt ships in TBOSAS and it's a topic I think about constantly. Lately even more since I proposed to do a post about Casca's life so let's talk about:

Homosexuality in the Capitol

I think the most common opinion is that surely that doesn't present any obstacle right? They are there in TBOSAS Pluribus Bell and his husband Cyrus, first canon gay couple to be mentioned. No one is saying bad things to them, and not even Snow's prejudiced family has thought anything ugly.

They are totally neutral to the mentions of his husband, the love of his life being a man, and aside, not in the Katniss era we are told in the districts there is freedom to marry whomever you want? No matter the gender, and if we go to the movies, I think we all agree that it confirms that most people in the Capitol would not make any fuss to see two men or two women kissing.

Personally I think that yes, by the time of Katniss that was no longer such an acute issue, but I have every reason to believe that in TBOSAS people weren't really that indifferent. At the end of the day there is 60+ years difference between one story and the other, things can change a lot and social class I think is a relevant aspect here.

Let's start by putting things on the table. Panem has no religion, but I don't think that eliminates homophobia, it is an evil that in fact has claimed more victims under reasons that have nothing to do with God, although moral panic is usually related, this is capable of existing independently, and science has not done much to help the normalization of a diverse sexuality. It has often been used against them in fact.

With that in mind we can start, first I don't think that in Panem homosexuality is penalized or criminalized. In short, I think the idea of ending up in prison for being gay is a bit of a stretch, but just because your existence is not an open crime does not mean that certain actions are not considered as such, and that suddenly people will be tolerant.

The Capitol doesn't seem like a tolerant place at all. Gender, race, social class and sexuality cofluctuate, one another, and this is where I find Pluribus Bell so interesting. A gay man who once owned a bar before the war, then survives by running an underground black market business and is known for his discretion.

I need you to repeat some of those words so that they stand out, so that we understand each other clearly. Pluribus Bell is a gay man who during the war was forced to participate in the black market. Underground business to survive.

What is not striking in that statement? He's a man who for some reason didn't go to war, (we could talk someday about how the enlistment worked) and easily moved into an underground business in order to survive. Pluribus Bell lived in his bar, didn't he? The war was brief indeed, though devastating as wars go, and while it's the kind of situation that makes people think fast, isn't it striking that within the Capitol, a gay man and his partner knew how to navigate the underground world with some ease and mastery?

While it is true that Coriolanus is our narrator, a child at the end of the day, I think he is also a smart child who observes others, and never saw in Pluribus Bell the destabilizing stress that dominated, for example, his grandmother at times. Only perhaps he recognized him as a sad man after he lost the love of his life in a bombing. After he was left alone with his cat.

And not only that. The Snows know Pluribus Bell or knew of its existence probably thanks to some word of Crassus Snow, an old acquaintance, an ex young university student who frequented that bar frequently, always accompanied by his best friend in the past, is not so rare, and while I like the snowbottom this not the focus point.

It's a nice note to make but let's think coldly, a rich teenager discovers that the owner of the bar he frequents is involved in clandestine business since before the war, because if we have understood each other, we have already suspected that Pluribus Bell was probably involved in some clandestine activity since before the war hit the Capitol.

It could have been for any reason but I think we're getting to the point that being gay and being involved in these kinds of activities under the law, under the radar, are not uncommon for queer people, because it's a community that has always been persecuted in one way or another. Also, from what little we know of Crassus' character, maybe it was the type of activity that wasn't exactly illegal so he could ignore it, and who knows, maybe he mentioned his name once he was trapped on the front lines, and his family was trapped to war horrible circunstances. Or maybe Pluribus Bell meet them later, when he attended the funeral and approached the family who lost the young man he remembers with some sympathy.

He does not seem to be part of the Crassus haters club, and has extended the Snow family a kindness that in the words of Coriolanus would be improper, being one of the few people who is fully aware that the Snows are starving. They are no longer rich and powerful. Isn't that what Coriolanus, Tigris and his grandmother have been fiercely trying to hide from others? Why do they seem so comfortable with this stranger knowing the truth?

Do they know something that puts them in a position of equals? Something that make they can never believe in Bell as a threat?

The Snows have never felt the need to hide their poverty from Pluribus. He has never felt the need to hide the fact that his partner was a man in front of them. Sounds like a good match doesn't it?

But is that the only explanation? Necessity is the obvious explanation, there was no alternative but to let Bell know, but once the war was over why not put on the act again? Maybe social class is influencing these non-reactions. Bell is something like the Snow's neighbor but he doesn't exactly live in the Corso. Exclusive area, where the elite live, and he used to own a bar. It's not humble but it's not at the level of what the Snows once were, they had cooks, servants, laboratories and almost totally owned the industry in D13 before it blew up.

Everyone easily believed that they would have assets in other businesses. They have been able to rub shoulders with the richest and most powerful people, for God's sake, one of Coriolanus' classmates was related to the president. So they are not on the same level.

Pluribus is below the Snows, socially speaking, as TBOSAS often proves, sometimes you are below someone in one respect and above them in others. That's how the Plinth have all the money that Coriolanus doesn't have but none of the respect he gets just for being a Snow.

Sexuality is an aspect in which the so-called lower classes usually have an enviable freedom contrary to the life of many people who are heiresses, the advantages of your legacy not mattering and your surname not being a brand.

Someone like Pluribus from whom no glory or success is expected, with no fortunes at his feet who wants to be supported for generations. What difference does it make if he loves a man? In reality he does not, so whether it is a security born of the possible tit for tat in giving away secrets, or he can simply do publicly what no sane heir would do outside of a locked room.

Because that's one thing, just because the big families, who run the Capitol see these relationships badly or may be prejudiced against them doesn't mean it will never happen. Surely there are heirs kissing where no one sees them, loving each other in the shadows, and others falling for the scandal of the press discovering them, because surely that is something that people would talk about.

If any of the wealthy people cross the boundaries, I think it would explode the television in contradictory opinions, or not at all, because they have paid to drown out the rumors, and in an office a father rebukes an heir, because their names matter and must be preserved. They as an elite have the right to continue their history for decades.

Something that someone poorer, less relevant, need not worry about.

And the secrecy? I don't think as I said that being gay is a crime perse in the Capitol, no one can send you to prison for fucking another girl being one yourself, but I think the prejudice exists, and a lot. Also the ridiculous rules, they may not say it is a crime to be homosexual but for sure in the army something like homosexual behavior exists in concept to be punished, with absurd justifications like a proof of a lack of character. Sign of low mental strength, which studies made by faceless scientists confirmed.

Relevant if you remember the capitol is highly militarized but in education I'm almost sure there is no class where these issues are discussed, it is something that can only be learned in the street, in life, so complex and unpredictable. It may look bad in public, maybe not two hands holding hands, but what about a gender expression that goes beyond what is expected? Pluribus had a very long wig, I remember.

Too aristocratic gesture or a particular expression of gender. And yes. I know what you may think: What are you talking about? The academy uniforms wear a skirt!

Have you noticed it is not a full skirt and actually reminds a part of the Roman army dress? But I grant you, maybe the gender in clothing had already started to blur since those years, a slow process, which finally culminates with the Captiolio we see in THG.

And that's where I end this post on something of a hopeful note, because remember ordinary people, those who work every day, may still face stupid laws. A possible aggressive medicalization, with therapists who say they have the key to correcting these deviant attitudes. People who still have to argue with their parents, who may still have to flee their homes, probably was worst after the war and the hate dominate the head of the people, and the population was low but they are also the ones who have their own spaces, maybe something like a bar of their own and in more than 60 years things have surely changed.

Although it is good to remember the Capitol is one thing and the districts another, just like the world were live people of lower social classes and the one were live the upper class are different, they not play the same rules, oh and not forget the race, nor ethnicity, these influence on this too (or maybe because the other person who is mentioned to us as homosexual in canon is Barb Azure Baird).

#pluribus bell #coriolanus snow #crassus snow #tbosas #capitol tbosas #tbosas mentors #ballad of toxic yaoi

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candyriku · 5 months ago

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Working on my ice skating AU, here's a lil preview (this is like the start of chapter 2). I know it's sacrilege to have Sora and Riku be estranged in any way, but in this AU they ARE, okay. I felt like writing about them being messy and emotionally damaged people so here is Riku being messy (and plenty of Sora being messy will follow) :-)

“Are you serious?” Riku demands, his voice coming across more aggressively than he means it. “Skate with him?”

Aqua looks from Riku to Sora and frowns. “Do you know him? Is there some kind of issue?”

Does he know Sora? Of course he does. They were childhood friends, then something more, then nothing at all. But he can’t tell Aqua that, nor does he want to relive the last time he saw Sora, his trembling hands in his hair, their lips brushing together before Sora made a hasty retreat and disappeared from his life entirely.

Sora’s eyes haven’t left his shoes. “It’s okay if you don’t want to…” he ventures, and somehow this makes Riku feel even worse. Sora is giving him an out, and he can't stand it. He wants to hate Sora for it, but it feels more and more like he hates himself. He should have never kissed Sora in the first place. He deserves the two years of silence he’s endured ever since.

“Look, Riku, I’ll say it one last time in case it’s not getting through that thick skull of yours. Either skate pairs, ice dance - which also requires a partner, or drop the sport entirely. If you want to do anything outside of those three options, I won’t coach you. And although it’s your decision, if you keep skating solo, I hope you know you're digging your own grave.”

“Fine,” Riku snaps, looking away from Sora. “I’ll try skating with him. But we both know he’ll only slow me down. This will end my career and yours.” He’s being unfair and he knows it, but the idea of Aqua deciding his future for him feels unbearable. Shouldn’t it be up to him? Yes, he’s injured, but injuries heal. He shouldn’t have to adjust his entire life because of one tiny stress fracture.

“Sora won’t slow you down. He’s just as skilled as you are.” Aqua says firmly, crossing her arms.

Riku wants to argue, but he’s spent most of his life in the same rink as Sora and knows it’s true. Still, skating solo is something Riku doesn’t want taken from him. It’s his escape, his time for himself, his form of self-expression. Having another person - even if it’s Sora - encroach on that feels wrong. Figure skating is a sport about the performer and the performer alone. It’s his own personal artform. To share it is to lose his identity as a skater altogether.

“I don’t skate with social media showboats” he spits. This, too, is unfair, and he only knows of Sora’s popularity online because he’s pathetically kept up with him after Sora moved away, forever watching videos of him skate with a mixture of longing and nausea. Sora skates expressively, beautifully, in a way Riku himself can’t quite replicate, because Sora has always been the better of the two of them when it comes to self-expression. Riku is just a miserable person pretending to be something he’s not. At least Sora is authentically himself all the time, even online.

Everything in Riku’s brain tells him to stop making such a scene and just accept this new paradigm. But his heart aches with loss - loss of his solo career, loss of his dignity, loss of his autonomy, loss of this world he’s built for himself where he can pretend he never fell disastrously in love with his childhood best friend. He freezes when he sees the expression on Sora’s face.

“I just post for fun,” Sora says softly, biting his lip. “I’ll stop posting while we're training, if that'll make you feel-”

“It’s fine,” Riku says. “Do what you want. It doesn’t concern me.”

#spoiler: sora is not authentically himself all the time like Riku thinks lol #also I wrote everything for this in present tense. then edited it all to be past tense. then started working on it again today only to find #that i was writing in present tense again. so this fic may or may not be in present tense. we'll see #here's the thing. Riku is like Perfect in my brain. and it's hard to write him as a flawed person bc in my heart he is not. but also.#It's kind of fun to make him incredibly flawed and selfish and whatnot. because i type the words i get to make things up!#also ok im not saying Riku has 0 flaws im saying 1. he is my special guy and 2. he is not flawed in the ways that i write him to be #if that makes sense #this is incredibly subject to change also. i literally wrote all of this like 5 mins ago and have not edited or revised #i just wanted to post it cause i'm getting sick from 'posting my writing' withdrawals ehehehe #soriku #soriku fanfic #pluffie writes #pwft

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madhattersez · 2 years ago

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Creep-Ass Shit I Saw in Antique Stores

These were all from my recent trip to Kansas, which has the absolute best antique malls. But, as with all antique joints, they are still full to the brim with frights beyond our comprehension. Here are just a few quick glimpses of Hell.

First up... clowns! Everyone loves clowns:

Don't worry, I did in fact buy those vintage clown masks just in case a bank robbery is in our future. Yes, "ours," like... you and me, partner.

Okay, taking a break to let you know about this scary fella (the one on the right, that is, ho ho).

There was a shop I'd never visited before - They had one bathroom. This was it.

This room had two sit-down toilet stalls, and neither of them had doors. So this fucking sasquatch just stared at you, right in the genitals, the entire time... making you question if it was indeed an evil mannequin inside or if this was just a creeper in a suit waiting to pounce on you.

Fastest sideways piss I've ever taken. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I don't know why we had to add a butler stricken with Eldritch madness to the handle of this little broom, but here we are!

...

Hey, all you folks that made it past the clowns - I'm so proud of you! So proud of you, that I'd like to invite you to round two! Not, not another round of clowns. This time, demonic dolls:

Their eyes. THEIR EYES. Their special eyes. MY BRAND!

Either Santa here is packing one hell of a package to put under your tree, or more likely, Santa was facing the opposite direction until just a second ago, when his head swiveled around to look down at you and scream the loudest "OHHHHHHHH" until your skull started rattling.

I'll let you pick.

Why? Why would you ever trust smiles like these? Don't. Don't you ever.

I can not describe in words just how massive and utterly dirty this fucking thing was. Even if it was crystal clean, would it not still be unsettling? It was so big, you could have stuffed at least two children in it. Scott Cawthon, eat your heart out. Literally.

...

Ooh! It's time for another collection! This one's fun, and I wish I would have taken more pictures. I could have sworn I did, but I couldn't find more...

I don't think I've ever seen one of these before, but I saw at least one in every single antique mall we went into (7) on the trip. It was like some sort of Stephen King-style omen or some shit.

I like to call them the "soul-hungry bears:"

I love how the last one has the most numb, world-weary eyes I've ever seen in my life, losing his fur in patches due to stress, and is getting hella drunk.

THE MONKEYS WOULD ALSO LIKE TO PLAY.

YYEEEEAAAAUAUUUGGHHHH!!!

This Pinnochio is not fucking around. He looks like he's possessed with power from the One Ring, holding a Dragon Ball in one hand and a submachine gun in the other. How could this ever have looked friendly?!

...

Okay, I'm going to have my favorite little guy I found play this post out. His name's Toe Joe. And as you can see, he needs help:

And now I need help.

And so do you.

Thanks for coming on this horrific journey with me! <3

#antiques #retro #vintage #antique shop #antique mall #horror #weird shit #weird antiques #weird finds #thrift finds #weird thrift #clowns #baby dolls #creepy dolls #creepy clowns #sasquatch #weird #toe joe needs some help #adventurewithhatter

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yall-hate-kids-tourney · 11 months ago

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Loser Round 1: Eridan Ampora (Homestuck) vs. Tails Nine (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Propaganda below the cut

Eridan Ampora:

Eridan is someone who is pushed into a role in his society that he feels he needs to act a certain way to play properly. In his society, if you don't live up to certain expectations, you will likely be literally killed - so in his mind, it is a matter of life and death. He preaches about being genocidal and racist, but never acts on his words. He's never taught how to treat others kindly, just treated like shit himself, even when he's TRYING to be kind or serious or ask for something. And then, when he cracks under the stress of their circumstances and genuinely loses control of himself, falling Grimdark, the fandom demonizes him for his actions (killing and attempting to kill a few other characters). The fandom tends to either ignore, deny, or not realize that he went Grimdark - as this is a more subtle situation than the other time we see it, where it's bluntly stated, whereas with Eridan it's based exclusively on the colors used. He's just...a kid who wasn't taught right from wrong. When it comes down to it, he needed help that he wasn't getting, and a large portion of the fandom hates him for the actions that stemmed from this.

Tails Nine:

it might just be me, but i still keep seeing posts where nine is just summarized as "tails but emo" and it. kinda ticks me off because. nine is very obviously a version of tails that didn't have a sonic – or anyone – to save him, so he grew to rely on himself and *only* himself, and it shows.

there's just... it could've been so easy for the tails we know to have become just like nine if it weren't for sonic. nine never had a sonic to protect him, so he made himself seven metallic tails to utilize instead. nine never had a sonic who made him be proud of his tails, so he makes it look like he only has one. nine never had a sonic who made him feel loved, so he stuck to the ground, because reaching for the sky is something only idiots can hope for.

until he met sonic.

and god, just watching the episodes where these two interact can make your heart feel *so* warm, because nine is finally getting the love he deserves. you watch him reach for the instinctive snark before being shocked by sonic's genuine kindness. you watch him praise sonic even if they had only just met because finally, finally someone cares about him. you watch him *fly*, in front of sonic, and only in front of sonic.

of course, good things can't last forever.

[sonic prime major spoilers territory, don't read unless you've watched all of s2]

this fox has been beaten down by the world around him, it should come as no surprise that when he found out what the full extent of what he could do with the shards is, that his first idea was to create the ideal world out of a wasteland just for him and sonic. only them. because sonic was the only one who showed him kindness. hell, he even remembered the palm trees sonic mentioned. the ideal world just for him and the hedgehog that insists that he's his friend.

and that's where their views collide.

because while nine wants what he never had, sonic wants what he lost.

and doesn't that just hurt? it's rejection. something that he's grown used to. because as much as sonic tries, he never saw nine more than just another alternate version of tails. all those words of his were for someone nine wasn't.

it's rejection, and it just confirms to nine what the world forced him to believe.

he's all on his own.

it's really no wonder he took control of the shards to create his own paradise.

(side note: i don't *fully* blame sonic for this either. while yes, it's primarily his fault, i feel like he's been dealing with the consequences plenty by now. he's just doing his best to fix things back to the way it was before. sonic may be fast, but even a few days isn't enough to process all of that for the world's fastest hedgehog.)

#yall hate kids tourney #loser round 1 #homestuck #eridan ampora #tails nine #sonic prime #sonic the hedgehog

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hopefulatrocity · 2 years ago

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From The Ashes Chapter 3

Notes: Small Daryl POV this chapter! They will officially meet not the next chapter, but the one after, I promise. I’m already halfway done with it. I like to be at least one chapter ahead of my posts.

If you want to be added to a taglist, leave a comment or message me

CW/TW: Anxiety, beginnings of anxiety attack, allusions to past trauma/transphobia

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics & @omiyours

Banner by: @liminal-creations

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As soon as Pheonyx turned 18, he started donating blood. As a universal donor, he felt a sense of obligation to help in some way. Every few months, he found himself sitting in a sterile office, his hand gripping a stress ball, while a tube drained a unit of his blood into a bag. Blood that would likely save someone’s life in the future. So, when Patricia hooked him up to Hershel’s antique transfusion set–one needle in his arm and the other in Carl’s– Pheonyx felt like a piece of the world from before had been handed to him. It was small but–when the world was being taken over by walking corpses–any bit of familiarity helped ease the constant anxiety. The new world always sneaks back up though.

The chair beneath him was uncomfortable and he felt vulnerable with the tube sticking out of his dominant arm. If shadows were to show up, he would be exposed. He wouldn’t have much time to disconnect himself and then reach for his cutlass. He tried to ease his anxiety, by going through all the precautions he had placed in the woods and around the property. He would know before the shadows showed up. There would be enough time to prepare himself if the farm was attacked. To distract his thoughts, Pheonyx stared at the clammy face of the boy, who Rick said was named Carl. Hershel sat on the other side of the bed and took his blood pressure. The light hissing of the pressure cuff, filling the silence. Rick and the other man, Shane, had left a short while ago. Likely to discuss how to get word to the kid’s mother about his condition.

“Do you think he can hear us?”, Pheonyx asked, not taking his eyes from the boy.

Hershel was quiet for a moment while he undid the cuff around Carl’s small arm. “I’m not sure, honestly. Research has suggested that we’re able to understand auditory stimulation while in unconscious states. But I doubt we will ever truly know. I’m sure he would appreciate you talking to him, even if he can’t hear you.”, he answered honestly.

Pheonyx nodded and leaned his head back against the rickety wood chair. Another question bubbled in his mind, “When-When I was in the hospital, did I look like him?”

His stepfather was shocked by the inquiry. In the past 6 years, his stepson hadn’t mentioned anything in relation to the events that led to his need to move states. Those times were dark in every member of the Greene family’s minds. For weeks, Pheonyx’s life had hung in the balance. Every bit of prejudice and confusion that had still resided in his parent’s minds was forgotten and it made them take stock of their treatment in regards to their son’s gender identity. The world was already fighting against him, his injuries and trauma being evidence of that. Did they really want to spend their time stuck in their narrow minded ways, or did they put forth the effort to understand and love their son? It was an easy decision for them. They refused to be another bully in the schoolyard of Pheonyx’s life. Hershel only wished it hadn’t taken almost losing him, to truly appreciate his stepson and to find understanding in the Bible’s command to love without bias.

“Yes, son.” he answered softly, his mind drifting in a sea of darkness from the past. “When your mom and I first walked into your room, we thought you had already passed. You were so pale, you almost blended in with the sheets you were laying on, and you were so still. Your mother is a strong woman. Hardly ever cried. I’m sure you know that. Aside from Bethie’s birth and your Grandpops dying, that was the only time I ever saw Annette shed tears…”

Hershel trailed off, the pain from those days and the mention of his wife making his gut clench. He stood and placed the blood pressure cuff on the nightstand.

“You know how to remove the needles?”, he asked. When Pheonyx nodded, he continued. “You can go ahead and do that. We might need another unit in a bit, so I would like you to stay here. I need to talk to the boy’s father.”

Pheonyx began clamping both of the tubes connected to his and Carl’s arm, “Okay. If Maggie is going out to find his mother, tell her to come see me beforehand, please?”

Hershel assented and left the room, shutting the door most of the way. Pulling the needle from the ditch in his arm, Pheonyx reached over to the first aid kit that was sitting on the end of the bed. He grabbed some alcohol wipes and two bandaids. With those, he cleaned his own arm, placed a bandage on the tiny mark, and moved to do the same for Carl. It seemed slightly pointless to be cleaning the small puncture when the boy currently had a gaping wound in his abdomen. But it wasn't like they could take him to the doctor for an infection. If they had the means to clean a wound properly, they should. Plus, it kept his hands busy and allowed his mind to wander to those days in the hospital.

“I know you don’t know me. You probably can’t even hear me. But on the off chance you can… You’re going to make it through this. I just met you. Heck, I haven't even talked to you, but I can already tell you’re a strong kid. I guess you have to be, to survive in the world right now.” Pheonyx pulled his chair a bit closer and took a seat. Hesitantly, he took Carl’s hand and squeezed softly. Maybe it was to comfort the boy. Maybe it was more to comfort himself from the memories that haunted his mind. He remembered waking up in the hospital with a gunshot to his stomach–in almost the exact same place as Carl’s– and the pain from the wound was minor compared to the agony in his mind.

“Daddy said you needed to see me?”, the calming voice of his sister had him dragging his eyes away from the bed. Discreetly, he wiped the tears that had been forming in his eyes.

“Uh, yeah. Are you taking a horse to find his mom?”

Maggie nodded, “Rick says a little girl got separated from their group yesterday. They were up at the traffic snarl on the highway. He says they split up and his wife is with the rest of the group, headin’ back that way.”

Pheonyx mentally mapped the route in his head. “ Check the map I have hung up in the stable. The green lines are safe routes through the woods. Avoid the red areas, I haven’t cleared those yet. Red stars are the traps. I’ve been taking Koda out when I place them. If you take him, he should take the safest route around them even if he’s going full speed.”

Maggie stiffened, “Nyx, if Daddy knew about what you’ve been doin’-”

“We can argue about it later. The boy needs his mom.”, His voice hardened, “There’s a copy of the map I made, on top of the table by the tack room. Give it to the rest of their group. It might help them while they look for the girl and keep them from getting hurt on any of the traps. I’ll help them more whenever they get here.”

Running a hand through her short brown hair, his sister sighed but relented. “Alrigh’. Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah, tell them to be careful of the barbed wire on the edge of the property.”

DARYL POV

Daryl Dixon had spent the majority of his life in the woods. Even more so since the dead started rising. When Sophia ran into the woods and went missing, he was the obvious choice to lead up the search. Rick and he had followed her trail as long as they could the day before but they lost the light and had to stop for the night. The little girl’s tracks had disappeared a while ago. She was light footed and he was having a hard time picking up her route. The whole group had searched most of the day. Rick, Shane, and Carl had split up to look for a while more while Daryl led the rest of the group back to the highway. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of splitting the group up. The more people searching for Sophia increased the likelihood of her being found. Being sent off to play tour guide to the rest of them–when he could be following the girl’s trail–just pissed him off. He was the only one in the group with a lick of sense in regards to surviving in the woods. Why did he have to play babysitter to a bunch of housewives, an uppity blonde, and Glenn? He should be the one searching for the girl, not Deputy Douchebag, Officer Friendly, and an 11yr old boy. Especially considering the state of the forest they were searching.

From the moment they started the search that morning, his mind had noticed something off about the woods around them. The distinct lack of shambling corpses was the big thing. The few walkers that they had come across were dead, their heads cut in half or arrow holes right between the eyes. Several along their path had met the same fate. Another odd thing were the traps scattered through the woods. During the first search, he had heard the tinkling of metal, but he had been so focused on finding Sophia and listening for the groans of walkers, that he had brushed it off. But not even an hour into the group’s search on the second day, they had found the first trap. A large tree was surrounded by sharpened sticks, stuck in the ground at a 45 degree angle. Dried blood covered the majority of the pointed ends. In the branches above the sticks, were wind chimes. Some were handmade, constructed of small bones or bits of scrap metal, others were the kind you could find at most stores. Nailed on the tree, blood dripping down the bark like trails of tears, was fresh offal. Possum and Raccoon by his best guess. Off to the side of the tree, a small 7x7 hole was dug. Only a few feet deep, the inside was scorched with the remains of burned walkers at the bottom.

Carol started hyperventilating at the sight of the bodies, thinking the worst had happened to her daughter. Lori moved Carl behind her while the others stared at the tree.

“What is this?”, Glenn finally asked, breaking the silence.

Daryl moved forward, crossbow at the ready, “Looks like a walker trap. Sound from the chimes draws ‘em in. Smell a’ the blood and flesh keeps their ‘ttention and lures ‘em onto the spikes. Hole’s for burnin’ them. Someone’s keepin’ the woods clear. ‘Splains all the dead ones we’ve found.”

Rick and Shane made sure their weapons were drawn, glancing around the area. The sheriff kept his voice low, “Someone’s livin’ around here. Everybody be on guard. We don’t know if they’re friendly.”

The gray-haired woman let out a small sob, “Oh god, they might have my baby. Or she could be caught in one of these traps somewhere. They could be burning her right now!” Andrea moved forward to comfort the older woman, speaking calming words and assurances.

After that, they walked quieter, avoiding unnecessary chatter. They passed 7 of those traps along the way, checking the hole at each one for a body of Sophia’s size. Some of them had walkers impaled on them, all grasping for the flesh nailed to the wood in front of them.

The ringing of bells had them all running towards a church, hopeful that maybe the little girl had found a way to signal the group. But all they found was speakers set up to a timer and a perimeter of barbed wire and spikes that surrounded the abandoned building. Several walkers were impaled on the spikes, slowly grabbing for the building when the bells sounded. Daryl quickly dispatched one with his bow, while Glenn and Rick killed the other 3 with hunting knives. The doors to the church were open, blocked by barbed wire and sticks, but the inside was empty. The only signs of life were the dead walkers on the ground, killed in the same way as the others they found. By that point, it was mid afternoon and they needed to turn back in order to make it to the highway before sundown. Daryl had intended to point the rest of the group in the right direction and keep searching, but Rick wanted to keep up the search himself. Shane and Carl opted to tag along with them. Honestly, he was surprised Lori cut the cord and allowed the boy out of her sight for more than a minute.

That’s how he ended up leading the others through the woods, holding in his anger at the talk behind him. They spoke like Sophia was already dead. Yeah, the girl was a bit weak. She was terrified of everything and had little knowledge of surviving in the wild. But she also had Ed as a father. A bastard who enjoyed putting his hands on his wife and child. As someone who grew up with a parent like that, Daryl knew that surviving those experiences formed a strength and determination to live in most people. He felt it in his bones that Sophia was one of those people. She was physically weak but she was whip-smart and had good instincts. Those things trump brute strength most of the time.

In anger, he snapped at the group, insisting they would find Sophia. The looks on their faces had old insecurities rising in his chest. The hesitant looks of people waiting for the dirty redneck to blow up. Granted, Merle’s explosive behaviors had certainly colored their views of him by association. And his violent reaction to finding out his brother was left in Atlanta didn’t help matters. Despite his efforts to prove himself to this group, his mind still insisted that he was useless and they’d turn against him eventually. The old voice of his father still haunted the back of his mind. Telling him that he was no good, that no one could ever care for him. Physically avoiding the memory of his father and the subsequent tingling on his back, Daryl turned away from the group and kept moving forward. His grip on his crossbow, white knuckled.

At some point they heard a gunshot. Only one. He tried to reassure Lori that Rick had probably just killed a walker, but even he knew that was a lie. Rick may be a bit naive to the world now, but he wasn’t stupid. Neither was Shane. They wouldn’t waste ammo or risk noise just for one walker. They continued to walk. About 100 yards from the highway, Andrea’s screams had them running. She had distanced herself at some point during their trek and a walker had snuck up on her. Before Daryl had a chance to put an arrow in the ugly bastard’s head, the sounds of hoofbeats preceded the entrance of a girl on horseback. Bat raised in the air, she brought it down and knocked the walker a few feet away from Andrea.

“Lori? Lori Grimes?”, she pulled up on the reins, halting the horse's momentum. Sweat was dripping down her face, making her short brown hair stick to her cheeks. The girl looked between all of them, waiting for an answer.

Lori moved forward, “I’m Lori.”

“Rick sent me. You got to come now.”, the stranger began to pull out some folded paper from her pocket.

Daryl, still slightly shocked at the sight of the woman riding in like some kind of superhero, saw Lori’s back tense. “What?”, she asked, her mind obviously snapping to the sound of the gunshot they had heard earlier.

“There’s been an accident. Carl’s been shot. He’s still alive but you’ve gotta come now.”, at Lori’s lack of response, the girl spoke firmer. “Rick needs you. Just come!”

As Lori tossed her backpack to the ground, Daryl moved forward to try to stop her, “Whoa-Whoa-Whoa! We don’t know this girl! You can’t get on that horse!”

His warnings fell on deaf ears though, the only thing on Lori’s mind was her son. She deftly jumped on the horse, settling behind the strange woman.

“Rick said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl?”, the woman asked.

Glenn stared at her, his eyes starstruck, “Uh-huh.” he said dumbly.

Tossing the paper she had pulled from her pocket, Daryl caught it, being the closest one. A quick glance told him it was some kind of map. He could see colored ink marked onto the printed chart.

“Backtrack to Fairburn road. Two miles down is our farm. You'll see the mailbox-- Name's Greene–”, she glanced between all of them, stopping to linger on him and the crossbow in his hands. Almost as if she knew something he didn’t, a ghost of a smile curved her lips, one that was gone before it could even register for most of the group. “Key’s on the bottom of the map. Be careful of the barbed wire around the edges of the property.” With a flick of the reins pushing the horse into motion, the woman and Lori disappeared into the depths of the forest.

They all stared after the pair riding the horse. Daryl was angry Lori hadn’t listened to him but was also worried about Carl, if what the woman said was true. If god was real, he sure had a sick sense of humor. They’d almost been blown up a couple days ago, Sophia had gone missing the day before, now Carl was shot? You’d think that their quota of shit to deal with would have been met a long time ago, but apparently not.

A groan had the group turning their head to the walker that the strange woman had hit moments before. Map in one hand, Daryl used the other to lift his crossbow and shoot the geek between the eyes.

“Shut up.”, he snapped, needing an outlet for his frustration. Hooking his crossbow over his shoulder, Daryl began to unfold the map. He briefly recognized the layout of the woods around them but his attention was drawn to the detailed marks around it. The whole area was organized into a color coded grid. Some blocks were marked green for safe, the others red for dangerous zones. At least a dozen dark green lines indicated safe trails leading to a property a few miles from the highway. He assumed it was the farm the girl was talking about. Red stars were dotted along the forest and the locations of a few stood out. They stood for the traps the group had found. He counted at least 20 of them throughout the few miles of woodlands. Other marks indicated hunting cabins, farmhouses, old barns, and clean water sources. The hours of hard work and surveying that had gone into this map was evident. Daryl lightly traced the script at the bottom of the map, where the key was located, with his thumb. The scribble was slightly sloppy but still legible. It didn’t look like a girl’s handwriting, but also wasn’t the chicken scratch that most men he knew had. He was oddly fascinated by it, the writing and the map. Glenn and Carol tried to look at it over his shoulder, but Daryl quickly–yet carefully– folded up the thin paper and stuck it in the breast pocket of his shirt.

Grunting in a typical Dixon fashion, he walked over and grabbed his bolt from the walker on the ground. “Come on. Need ta get back ‘fore it gets dark. Don’ want the ole’ man to have a heart attack.”

With that, the group made their way back to the highway. No one noticed that Daryl’s hand kept drifting towards the pocket near his heart, brushing against the folded paper through the dirty fabric.

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