#*agnes voice* all is lost...

[randomshyperson]

Heart Drawing - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Dinner with Mr. Heart takes a different turn. Or, what anyone who wasn't a synthezoid would have done at the sight of Wanda in that dress.

Warnings: (+18), purely smut, bottom!Wanda (bratty), rough smut, creampie, strap-on, fingering and oral (w rec),  Westview setting, established relationship, kinda semi-public (?), almost getting caught but Wanda keeps doing magic tricks | Words: 1.169k

A/N-> I can't believe I finally wrote this, it's a fixing of the scene from WandaVision because I always thought it was unbelievable. If Wanda prepared a romantic dinner for me, especially wearing that, there would be no dinner at all. A good Wandavision anniversary for all of us btw <3

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

Although it was one of the skills she developed first, mental control could be very difficult. Especially if Wanda was experiencing some other strong emotion, such as stress, anger, or sadness. 

Or physical exertion, like a fight with an alien or lifting machines or the like. 

Or just being so close to cumming in the middle of the kitchen.

And you, well, you weren't making it any easier for her. Your hips never faltered in their brutal rhythm against her and every time the fake cock attached to your waist slid between her tight walls, Wanda had the impression that even the magic around the house was failing. 

Her eyes were still red, though - Wanda is still surprised that she has any control when you slide your fingers down to tug at her neglected clit and she's forced to muffle her whimper with a bite on your shoulder.

She's sure she won't be able to keep the two guests static in the kitchen if you keep this up. But the soft protest is little more than a choke; "S-slow down, detka" she gasps directly into your ear.

You adjust the angle, and your hips slow down, but god, you thrust hard enough for the kitchen counter to crack. The dress she called a surprise barely hanging on her body is pushed down even further with the rough motions and Wanda won't be surprised if the the magic fails her once and for all with the reach of her orgasm.

She wasn't complaining, after all, this was the whole point of the night. A misunderstanding about a heart drawn on the calendar had led her to believe that tonight would be an anniversary (of which, she and Agnes came to no conclusion, and Wanda preferred to pretend it was supposed to be a wedding one). She got chocolate fruit and a dress that made you ignore your boss in the other room and force her against the counter as soon as you caught the first glimpse of her cleavage.

Wanda tried to be the voice of reason, even if her voice was hoarse and not very determined. She asked you; "What about them?" but all you did was give her a dirty little smile as you unbuttoned your pants.

"Play your tricks, my lovely little witch." That's what you whispered before sliding into her in probably the only gentle thrust of the night, and well, we're back to the beginning.

Wanda being fucked roughly on the counter in the kitchen while trying to keep the two guests in the living room.

She doesn't know, or think she doesn't know, at least not consciously about how that toy ended up inside your pants. She doesn't think about it, nor about when your hips start to buck and how when you come first, she can feel something hot squirting inside her. She can only mew in arousal, feeling your weight fall on her as you return your movements, faster than before making it impossible for her to hold back any longer. Your mouth finds hers again, and you swallow every dirty moan she lets out as she finally reaches her climax a moment later.

The kitchen, perhaps the whole city, shakes with the force of this orgasm. Wanda doesn't notice, but you're kind of mesmerized by the whole thing. She doesn't even realize she has lost control, still panting and soft under your body but you hear footsteps approaching.

It's your powers that keep the kitchen door tightly shut, and Wanda blinks exhaustedly at the knocks.

"I'll tell them dinner's canceled." You murmur, kissing her cheek before pulling out, the act drawing a gasp from the other. Wanda forces her body to react when you make mention of moving away, her legs hooking behind your knees while she gestures in the air with her fingers glowing red.

"They'll find their way on their own." That's what she says before pressing her mouth to yours again. You smiled into the kiss, saving a mental note to comment that you'd probably lose your job for this. But those were problems for later; right now, you were focused on your darling wife moaning on your tongue.

Your kisses descended to her collarbone, marking the skin gently as Wanda struggled to breathe. Your body soon followed the lead, and you ended up on your knees on the kitchen floor with your face between her legs, taking a moment just to admire the image of Wanda's pussy leaking your mixed cum. 

Your breathing against her was driving her crazy, she moved her hips forward, one of her hands grabbing a handful of your hair and trying to pull you in, but you fought back. Wanda meowed in protest.

"Please." It didn't sound much like begging, and you raised your eyes to her. Wanda blushed heavily at the image but tried to bait you by moving her free fingers to her own pussy, spreading the wetness before sinking a finger in. She whimpered before teasing; "Come on baby, I know you want a taste."

You bite your tongue, but you can't contain the shuddering of your body and Wanda smiles at you, a finger teasing its way in. You try not to fall for it but she mewls as she pushes her finger further inside and you curse quietly before you take action. Your hand pushes hers away, and you sink your face into her pussy before Wanda can complain; she chokes on a moan, her back arching on the counter as you eat her out in hungry determination. Your hands grip her thighs wide open and Wanda struggles to control the sounds, trying to find some ground as she clutches your hair, but all it serves for is to keep your head in place as she grinds harshly against your face.

She is almost robbed of her orgasm the next moment when there is a knock at the back door. It's she who is startled, failing in her movements towards your face, but you groan in frustration at the interruption and instead of stopping the whole thing, the vibration takes Wanda over the edge, and she has to cover her mouth with her hand to avoid the sound that escapes her as the climax washes over her.

She's still trembling on the counter when you stand up, a mess of cum running down your chin that you wipe off with the back of your hand, which Wanda watches with exhausted eyes as you lick it clean a moment later.

"I'll send her away." You mutter, evidently against your will to get off her. When Wanda mentions protesting, you offer her a wink, your hands busy hiding the toy back in your pants. " We'll carry on upstairs."

She tries to stand up on shaky legs while you answer the back door to the nosy neighbor. By now, Wanda's mind is so dizzy from a good fuck that she doesn't even care if Agnes was able to hear anything.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagines

[kamotecue]

footy match ✬ m. leon

summary: in which the royal twins attend a game of their favorite football team, but who knows what would happen afterwards?

part one, and two.

the twins took their seat, their eyes settling on the pitch, where the players of both teams were warming up. andres had face paint, the colors of barcelona while astrid wore her barca scarf.

isak sat beside the prince, while agnes (astrid’s personal bodyguard) sat on the left of astrid, the twins were in the middle.

“broder, kan du ge mig gummibjörnarna? [brother, can you give me the gummy bears?]” the crown princess’s voice was soft, as andres gave his sister a small nod. taking out his sister’s snack from the bag, kindly passing it to her as he received a small thanks.

the game had begun, as the twins focused on the pitch. they’re avid supporters of football, most importantly they support the same team—the team you do. you had gotten them into football, andres plays on a swedish youth team while astrid occasionally plays.

the first half ended with bonmati, hansen and caldentey scoring a goal, as the team headed to the tunnels, mapi looked around, accidentally making eye contact with astrid, as andres was playing rock-paper-scissors with isak.

the crown princess sent the spanish player a soft smile, as maria returned it, her figure disappearing as she entered the tunnel.

“vad är din poängförutsägelse? [what is your score prediction?]” astrid asked andres, who hummed before holding up four fingers.

“jag säger fem mot noll. [i say five to zero.]” the prince gave his sister a raised eyebrow, astrid just gave him an amused look. the half time quickly came to a break, as the players from both teams took their side.

“hur mycket vill du satsa, käre broder? [how much do you want to bet, dear brother?]” isak snorted at the crown princess’s behavior, knowing it would be food related.

“om du har rätt kommer jag att ge dig all min choklad från mina gömmor—om du förlorar kommer du att ge mig all din. [if you’re right, i’ll give you all of my chocolate from my stash—if you lose, you’ll give me all of yours.]” agnes softly smiled at the twins, astrid gave her brother a glare but accepted the challenge.

let’s just say, andres lost all of his chocolates. the game did end with a five to zero, as the team went around the pitch, giving their attention to the fans—the twins took it as a sign to get closer.

frido giving the two of them a small bow, andres returned it with a nod—astrid giving the swedish a soft smile.

“du behöver inte buga, frido. [you don’t have to bow, frido.]” astrid said, as frido tilted her head in confusion.

“lamento no saber quién eras. [i’m sorry for not knowing who you were.]” the twins set their eyes on the barca center-back, a few players were behind her as well. ingrid, alexia, patri and claudia—the ones who were curious.

“está bien, no podrías haberlo sabido de todos modos. [it’s okay, you couldn’t have known that anyway.]” andres replied, giving her a soft smile.

“det är mycket folk, ers höghet. [there’s a lot of people, your highness.]” agnes bowed her head as she spoke, the twins looked around—a few fans had pointed their phones at them, curious on who the kids are and why they’ve attracted a lot of players.

“¿podemos entrar? a mi hermana no le gustan mucho las multitudes. [can we enter? my sister doesn’t really like crowds much.]” andres said, frido hummed before handing the passes to isak. there were four, he gave her a soft thanks, as he placed a pass over the prince, before grabbing his.

“tack, isak [thank you, isak.]” the prince said, as isak gave the prince a small nod. as the barca players simply led the way inside, not knowing what would happen next.

#mapi leon #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #espwnt x reader

[alxtiny]

Millennium Falcon | Park Seonghwa x Reader

Synopsis: where you snd seonghwa build the millennium falcon

Pairing: idol!park seonghwa x gn!reader, domestic au

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: implied fem reader can be ignored

Notes: to quote Agnes ‘its so fluffy I could die’

masterlist

Seonghwa's charismatic voice resonated through the quiet room as he spoke to his fans via a youtube live stream. Contentedly talking about his fascination with star wars and the new LEGO set he received recently. The warm glow of the screen illuminated his face, casting gentle shadows on the features that you had come to adore.

Sitting beside him, you watched with a soft smile, intrigued by the genuine interaction he had with his fans. You loved this soft and nerdy side of him that he so freely showed to his fans, much unlike his demonic alter ego on stage.

It had all started with a simple idea: building the LEGO Millennium Falcon. The iconic spaceship lay in pieces across the coffee table among miscellaneous food wrappers, a testament to the teamwork and determination that had fueled your late-night endeavour. The clock on the wall had long lost its relevance as hours melded into one another. Yet, time was of no concern when laughter echoed in the air.

Seonghwa's fingers delicately manoeuvred the tiny LEGO bricks, his eyes focused on the task at hand, his tongue sticking out the slightest in concentration. His hair, usually so meticulously styled, was slightly dishevelled from all the times he'd run his hands through it in thought. With a playful grin, he glanced at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Are you sure you're following the instructions correctly, Y/N?" he teased, a twinkle of amusement in his gaze.

You rolled your eyes in mock exasperation, nudging his shoulder with yours. "Of course! I'm just taking my time to make sure it's perfect."

"Perfect, huh?" he chuckled, shaking his head. "I've seen your 'perfect.' It usually involves a little extra icing on the cake."

You gasped, feigning offense. "Are you implying that I overdo things?"

Seonghwa's laughter filled the air, and you couldn't help but join in. The sound was infectious, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. As his laughter subsided, he turned his attention back to the LEGO set. Silence settled between you, but it wasn't a heavy silence; it was the kind that spoke of comfort and ease.

As the pieces clicked into place, you found yourself lost in thought. This simple activity had brought you closer to Seonghwa than you had ever imagined. You marveled at how he was just as goofy and down-to-earth as he appeared on camera. His charm was magnetic, not just for you but for his fans as well.

" ‘Who are you talking to?’ Atiny seems to be curious about the other voice huh?," Seonghwa spoke up as he read the questions his fans sent, his gaze shifting towards the camera. "Well to answer your question, I've got someone really really special here with me tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat as he gestured to you. Shyness crept over you, but the warmth in his eyes was reassuring. You gave a small wave to the camera, scooting into the frame, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness as the comments section exploded with greetings and hearts.

"Say hello, Y/N," Seonghwa encouraged, his voice gentle.

"Hi, everyone, I’m Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you all. " you greeted, your voice tinged with a touch of shyness.

The comments section lit up with enthusiasm. Words of welcome and compliments flooded the screen, overwhelming you with a sense of acceptance. It was a bit surreal, but Seonghwa's presence by your side made it easier to handle.

"Y/N, you're amazing!" one fan commented.

"Seonghwa, you better keep up with her building skills!" another chimed in.

Seonghwa's eyes sparkled with pride as he read out the comments, but then one caught his attention: "Move over, Seonghwa. Y/N is stealing the bias spot!"

He burst into laughter, showing you the comment. "Looks like you're becoming a fan favourite already."

You playfully nudged him. "Don't worry, I won't steal your fans."

Seonghwa smirked in amusement. "Just wait till I tell Hongjoong that you're looking at others, ‘ATEEZ's ultimate fan’-nim ."

"Hongjoong said not to look at other oppas, we can still look at unnies though" one comment replied.

Seonghwa chuckled, his gaze shifting between you and the camera. "Hold on, hold on. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, that’s a good point though."

With a mischievous glint in his eye, he continued, "But seriously, guys, thanks for all the love. She's pretty special to me too."

You were glad Atiny were so accepting of your position in Seonghwa’s life and granted you their approval with any hitch, bar a few delulu fans. An fear of being shunned was gone and their positivity made you want to be friends with all of Atiny.

The rest of the live stream was a blur of conversation, laughter, and a few impromptu dance moves. You felt a newfound sense of belonging, as if you were a part of something bigger than yourself. Since Seonghwa's fans embraced you with open arms, you felt like you were part of their extended family.

As the live stream came to an end, Seonghwa leaned back against the couch, letting out a heavy sigh, his arm casually draped around your shoulders. You exchanged a glance, and a shared smile spoke volumes. The screen finally went dark, and you both burst into laughter once again.

"Looks like you've stolen my spotlight," Seonghwa teased, nudging your shoulder.

You playfully nudged him back. "Well, maybe I'm just that charming."

He chuckled, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "You are."

The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow, the remnants of the live stream still lingering in the air. The LEGO Millennium Falcon sat partially completed on the table, owed to your hardwork. The night had worn on, and as you both exchanged stories and shared your dreams, you hadn't noticed the gradual transition from darkness to dawn.

Seonghwa yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "Wow, time really flew by, didn't it?"

You glanced at the window, where a soft morning light was beginning to filter through. "Yeah, I can't believe it's almost morning."

He turned his gaze to you, his expression soft. "You know, this has been one of the best nights I've had in a while."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and a warm smile spread across your face. "I feel the same way."

Seonghwa leaned in closer, his eyes locked onto yours. "So, what do you say we wrap things up and finally get some sleep?"

"Sounds like a plan," you agreed, your voice soft.

With a yawn and a stretch, you both stood up, stretching your stiffened limbs. As Seonghwa turned off the lights and led you to the bedroom, a comfortable silence enveloped you. The exhaustion was apparent, but it was a content kind of tiredness that came from spending quality time together.

You both settled into bed, instinctively curling up next to each other. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in close. The warmth of his embrace was soothing, and you nuzzled your head against his chest.

"Goodnight, Seonghwa," you murmured, your voice filled with a sense of peace.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispered, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

As the first rays of morning light filtered through the curtains, you both drifted into a peaceful slumber, the world outside fading away. In each other's arms, you found solace and comfort.

© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.

Send an ask or a message to be added to taglist

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

Taglist: coming soon

#ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez reaction #ateez smut #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa x you #seonghwa ateez #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa smut #seonghwa #seonghwa oneshot #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa drabble

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: mentions of worries surrounding motherhood Word count: 1375 Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @hiireadstuff @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @vellicora @ystrolllll

Epilogue to the Mamma Mia series

One year later 

To say the past year has been a whirlwind would be an understatement. It’s the final race of the season and for once you’re not working. It’s odd, being in your own garage without having your trusty iPad in your hands with the latest data sets. You’d be lying if you said that you don't feel a little lost, almost in limbo between the two worlds of motherhood and your career. Lewis comes up to you, smiling when he sees you fiddling with your jewellery.

“Feels wrong, huh?” he asks.

“Not wrong, just-.. Just weird. Being here as a WAG will take some getting used to for sure,” you reply. Lewis takes your hand, pulling you closer so he can give you a kiss.

“For what it’s worth, I love having you here, whether that’s as a data engineer or as my fiancée.” You can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up at that. During the summer break Kevin, Lewis, and Mark surprised you with a trip to Sanremo. They had thought of everything; they even invited the nanny who had been there since the moment you had given birth to take care of the baby for an evening so the four of you could go for dinner followed by a walk on the beach. And there, as the sun began to set, the three of them went down on one knee and asked you to marry them. 

“Can’t wait to get married next year,” you whisper, looking down at Lewis’ thumb brushing against the gold band that held three small diamonds: one for each of them. 

“Neither can I,” comes a voice from your left. Looking up, you see Mark smiling at you, the baby carrier strapped to his chest. He leans down to give you a quick kiss, which you happily accept even if there’s plenty of cameras pointed at the three of you.

“This little lady wanted to give her daddy a good luck kiss,” Mark says, his words being followed up by a giggle from your 7-month-old daughter as she kicks her little legs. For someone who’s never been to an F1 race, she is enjoying all the attention she’s getting for sure. 

“Is that so?” Lewis coos at her, quickly undoing some of the straps so he can lift her up. The little girl happily goes with her dad, babbling away, much to the amusement of the engineers. Lewis kisses her little face all over, making her laugh. Despite them all reassuring you it didn’t matter to them who the baby’s biological father is, you were still worried they wouldn’t bond with her. Your concerns couldn’t have been further from the truth; little baby Mercedes, as fans had dubbed her, has all three men wrapped around her little finger. 

“Have you been to Haas yet?” you ask Mark as Lewis straps your daughter back into the carrier. You quickly learnt that she loves being carried, strapped safely to the chest of her favourite people. 

“No, came here first. Wanna come with?” Mark asks. You nod, giving Lewis another kiss before taking Mark’s hand to go over to the Haas garage. Kevin is quick to spot the three of you, giving you a kiss.

“Agnes wanted to give her far a good luck kiss,” Mark says, accepting the side hug from Kevin. 

“I will always accept those,” Kevin says with a smile so tender it makes you fall in love with him all over again as he, too, lifts your daughter out of her carrier. Agnes happily lets him, giggling when Kevin tickles her. From the moment she was born, it became pretty clear whose genes the girl had inherited with her blond hair, and so it made sense to go with a Danish name for her. That was the deal: whoever’s DNA won got to pick a name. 

Leaning into Mark’s body, you watch Kevin and Agnes as they make their way around the garage. After last year’s ordeal with Gene, you’re still not entirely comfortable standing here but you’d do anything to support your partners. Kevin gets the signal that it’s time to go for warm up and he brings Agnes over, the girl reaching out for you, and tucking her face into your chest when you settle her on your hip. Kevin gives his daughter a final smooch before leaning over to give you a kiss.

“Love you. Be safe,” you murmur. Kevin smiles, giving you one final kiss before following his trainer outside. Mark takes your hand once more and you make your way into the paddock.

“Are you on commentary today?” you ask as you spot the Sky camera people getting ready for Martin’s grid walk.

“No, just the post race interviews. We have all the time in the world, sweetheart.” You’re quiet for a moment, taking in the hustle and bustle that happens during a race weekend. Something has been gnawing at you from the moment you entered the paddock this morning, when you realised just how much you missed work. 

“Do you-.. Do you think I’m a bad mum for wanting to go back to work, for looking forward to it?” you ask quietly.

“I think this is a conversation we need to have with all four of us, but no, I think it’ll make you an even better mum. You’re showing our daughter that she can become whoever she wants to be,” Mark says, quick to shut down your worries. You give his hand a grateful squeeze as you walk back to the Mercedes garage.

“There she is!” you hear from behind you. Unable to stop the laugh that’s bubbling up, both of you turn around to see Oscar jogging over, half in his race suit already. He has truly become almost like a son to you, and in turn, a big brother to Agnes. Your daughter loves her dads, but Oscar is her favourite person besides her uncle Mick. Because of Mark being his manager, Oscar comes over quite a bit during the season and even stayed at your place during the Monaco Grand Prix. 

Agnes squeals when she spots the Australian driver, kicking her little legs and she makes grabby hands. 

“Hey Roo,” Oscar says softly, brushing her cheek with his finger. Agnes babbles happily, leaning forward so Oscar really doesn’t have a choice but to pick her up. 

“Can I show her the car?” he asks you, and you can’t help but feel touched at his enthusiasm.

“She’s 7 months, mate,” Mark comments.

“Please? I got her a pair of ear defenders and I will hold her the whole time,” Oscar pleads.

“Alright then,” you give in, chuckling as he beams at the both of you before heading into the McLaren garage.

“Come on, Roo. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll show me your F1 car,” you hear Oscar murmur to your daughter as you follow him to the garage. Leaning against Mark, you watch Oscar and Lando fuss over Agnes as they show her around. You can tell your baby is getting sleepy when she sucks her thumb into her mouth, leaning against Oscar’s chest. Mark waves the Aussie driver over and makes quick work of strapping her back into the carrier, facing him this time around. Within seconds she’s out like a light despite the noise and chaos around her. Agnes will happily spend her entire nap there, snuggled safely against her dad. You quickly wish Oscar good luck with his race, making him promise that he’ll come over for dinner in the new year, before heading back to Mercedes. If anyone had told you two years ago you would find yourself in this position, with a baby and so many people in her life to love her and you, you would have called them crazy. And yet here you are, engaged to three Formula 1 drivers with the most perfect daughter and a semi-adoptive son. All those years you spent keeping people at bay and now you have managed to create a village for your little girl to thrive and be so incredibly loved by all her dads and uncles. And seeing that heals a part of you that you never thought would heal. 

It only felt right for Kevin to be the biological dad, not that it matters in the grand scheme of things, but the poor man has been through the wringer. This was also written before shit hit the fan and I am choosing to ignore it in this fic, at least for now.

When I shared this dream with my two besties over discord, I had no idea it would end up snowballing into 16k worth of fic, but it has been so much fun plotting and exploring these characters.

I want to thank everyone who participated in the many polls, you helped mould this fic. There's a few people in particular I'd like to thank: @emilielfc and @curiousthyme, this fic would not exist without both of you, thank you for listening to me plan the whole thing over discord. And once it became clear this would be an f1 fanfic, @szobosz also got subjected to me needing to think out loud, so thanks for listening to me ramble babe. @seafoampearlygirl your knowledge on Mark Webber has been invaluable in the writing of this fic, so thank you again for taking the time to write an entire post on it. @monzamash and @monzabee, girls your unwavering support every time I second guessed this fic means more to me than I could ever put into words

The fic might be finished, but I love these characters too much to give up on them. If there's a specific scene that you'd like to see, please feel free to drop it in my ask

#f1 fanfic #kevin magnussen x you #kevin magnussen x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #mark webber x you #mark webber x reader #mamma mia fic

[mosneakers]

part 2 <read part 1 first, here>

Sunglo: You've been crying. I notice you've washed the smell of smoke off.

Coni: [Voice strained] Glo, baby, I'm tired.

He reaches to touch her arm, but she proceeds past him.

Sunglo: Then let's not drag this out. Where is she? What happened to her?

Coni: She's gone, Sunglo. [Keeps walking]

Sunglo: Gone? Concept—wait! Get back here!

Coni sits in front of her vanity table, while Sunglo stands behind her, exerting every effort to steady his emotions.

Sunglo: [Calmly] What do you mean she's gone, Concept? Coni glances down at the gleaming ring Sunglo gave her, passed down from his great-grandmother.

Coni: There was a malfunction that resulted in her combustion. She was destroyed. I'm sorry. You trusted me with your best bot and I failed you.

Sunglo: [Shakes head vigorously] No, that's impossible. Give me a detailed incident report if that's truly the case.

Coni: Stop, I just lost someone too. I'm in no position to do that right now, please.

Sunglo falls silent, stunned.

Sunglo: Coni… If there's something you're not telling me…

Coni: [Voice sharpens] WHAT, SUNGLO? What are you going to do? Hm?

Sunglo: I'll find out. I can access her data, her surveillance. I'll figure it all out on my own, Concept. If I have to, I will.

Coni looks up at him with a sympathetic frown, her fingers tracing the collar of his shirt. A soft chuckle escapes her lips, though in her ragged and worn-out voice, it sounds more like a whimper.

Coni: [Sighs] No baby, you won't. Sunglo: Sorry?

Coni: You won't. That's the thing. You'll never find out. You're the smartest man I've ever known, but I'll always be one step ahead of you... thanks to my genetic advantages. I destroyed Cecilia. I had to. And If I wanted you to forget all of this, I could make that happen with the snap of my fingers. But I'm just so tired of this game. I'm so tired of hiding from you, my darling.

A tear falls down Coni's cheek, against all efforts to stop it. Sunglo's stomach churns as a faint blue aura begins to emit from her skin; the same blue aura that comes from Aurora when playtime is cut short, or she doesn't get the toy she asks for. Everything starts to fall into place.

Sunglo: No... [Shakes head, tears forming] Concept... you're scaring me...

Coni's eyes mirror the tears welling in his. She tries to vocalize "I'm sorry," but only manages to mouth the words, her voice failing her. Sunglo: This can't be real. I feel sick. Is this real? Coni: I... Do you want me to show you? ...Myself? My real form?

Sunglo: What? No! Those things, they—[lowers voice] they violated me, Con... And you? You're really one of them? Did you help them?

Coni: NO! Mod, no. I would never do that to you, Glo! I would never hurt you. I'm not like them. I was raised here in Strangerville. I don't do what they do, okay honey?

Sunglo: What do you do, then? Lie and manipulate? And apparently destroy? Why? Why'd you do that to Cecilia?

Coni: She… she knew too much.

Sunglo: Oh, It all makes sense now. You were protecting yourself. Coni: I— [stops herself]

Sunglo: I think I'm gonna be sick... I should go.

Coni: Baby, please… Wait, just come sit down. We can fix this, okay? We can get back to our normal happy life! We can fix Cecilia. We can fix us.

Sunglo: I… I think I need some time to think about this.

Coni: Think about what? Stop, you're scaring me, now! What are you saying, Glo? We were supposed to be—this life we made for us… it's perfect. Our love is perfect.

Sunglo: It was perfect. You destroyed it. It was a lie, Coni. You lied to me.

Coni: PLEASE! I'm the same Coni you've always known. We were supposed to get married, Glo! You just proposed. You gave me Agnes's ring, I know that means something special, please!

Sunglo: Keep the ring. But— I think we need to call off the engagement for now.

Coni: Call it off? What are you saying? What does this mean for us? If you don't want to marry me then you don't want to be with me, either! [Sobbing]

Sunglo: I just need time, Coni.

Coni: What about our family and friends? Erwin? He definitely won't be able to handle this. Are you going to tell them I'm an alien so that they all hate me too?

Sunglo: Of course not. You tell them when you're ready. And for what it's worth, they'll always love you. I'll always love you, Concept. Okay? I… I just know I'll never be able to reconcile, and I… I just need to think about whether I can live with that or not... forever.

Coni: [Sniffles]...S-so this is goodbye, then?

Sunglo: Only for now.

#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 story #MD4season10 #MD4 #Sunglo Darling #Strangerville #Coni Breeder #altercation #intense interactions #emotional distress #read with care as always!

[forgetminot]

Paranormal

✿ Arthur Morgan x Gn!reader ✿

Warnings : ghosts, a little spooky, nothing else.

Word Count : 527

Authors Note : I'm back from the dead and just in time for spoopy season, so enjoy this short story based on the ghost of Agnes Dowd from rdr2 (very interesting I'd recommend looking it up!)

Summary : You seek help after getting lost in the swamps and come across a young lady.

You sigh deeply with relief as you push a sharp branch aside, walking closer to the person ahead of you. "Excuse me?" You call out, holding your lantern up into the misty night sky. "I'm sorry to be a bother, but I'm lost- could you help me?" You ask hastily, observing the lady as you wait for her to answer; her back is turned to you, her long white hair flowing down to her waist. "Ma'am?" You take a few more steps forward and lift your spare hand out slowly towards the woman's fair skinned shoulder.

"There you are!" You jump, bringing your hand back down to your side and turn on your heel to face the voice coming from behind you.

"Christ, Arthur!" You breathe deeply. "You scared me..." He chuckles at your reaction, raising his brow in confusion.

"What are you doin' all the way out here?" He asks, his eyes darting around both your surroundings.

"I was bored- back at camp." You reply. "I went a bit too far, lost my way and I was just asking this lady for-" You pause, eyes wide as you turn around. "-help."

"You fall and hit your head or something?" Arthur asks.

You ignore his remark as you stare at the ground in front of you. "There was a lady, right here!" You point in confusion and turn back to face Arthur. "I swear."

"Alright, if you say so." He nods, coughing awkwardly.

"You didn't see her?" You ask in disbelief. "She was right here!" You turn once more, looking through the forest for any sign of the woman. Maybe Arthur was right, maybe you had fallen and suffered a small concussion, maybe you imagined the lady in hopes of finding your way home. You shake your head back and forth. "I think I've gone mad." You mumble to yourself.

"I could have told you that a long time ago." You scowl at Arthur as he stands beside you. "Look, it's a dark night you can hardly see from all this mist." He motions with his hands. "Probably just your eyes playin' tricks on you."

"Come back to me. Come back to me..."

You turn suddenly, grabbing Arthur by the arm. "You heard that, right?" You whisper.

"I uh- I definitely heard something." He responds blankly, looking down at your hand tightly gripping his arm.

"I miss you. I miss you so much."

You almost jump a mile, losing your footing as you stumble backwards. Arthur reacts quickly, placing his arm around your waist to steady you. "Okay, that's enough of that." He whistles loudly, his horse bounding towards you. "Let's get you back to camp and away from the weird lady in the woods." You nod, taking Arthur's hand as he offers it to you and pull yourself up onto his horse. You take one last look around the marsh and there she stands, standing tall next to a tree, her white dress flowing in the wind. You place your hands around Arthur's waist and the woman speaks once more, her voice fading into the distance as you ride away along the dirt path.

"I'm waiting for you. I'm waiting."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x gn reader #arthur morgan x gender neutral reader #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #gn reader #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #spooky #ghost #boo!

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Angel of God, My Guardian Dear Chapter 1: Matt

Rating: Explicit (18+, MINORS DNI)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Story Summary: While speaking at a local school for visually impaired youth, Matt runs into his childhood best friend, with whom he lost touch almost 20 years prior.

Warnings/Tags: No real warnings thus far -- This is going to be a pretty angst-free fic.

Word Count: ~6,300

A/N: Welcome to Angel of God, My Guardian Dear! This started out as a 1-shot and quickly spiraled out of control, as my thirst for Matthew Michael Murdock could not be contained.

For the purpose of this story, Reader is Catholic and grew up at St. Agnes with Matt.

Title is from the Catholic prayer "Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here, ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide, Amen."

"All set to go to Lavelle?" 

Matt Murdock turned his head as his friend and business partner, Foggy Nelson, came into his office. "Yeah, just need to finish up here and I'll be on my way."

"It was really cool of them to ask you to come speak," Foggy added.

Matt nodded. "I hope I can help these kids realize that their disabilities don't define who they are and that they can be whoever and whatever they want to be, including lawyers."

Foggy huffed out a laugh. "Or crime-fighting vigilantes?"

Matt grinned. "Well actually, there's probably only room for one blind crime-fighting vigilante in this city, so I probably won't suggest that as a potential career path."

Foggy patted Matt on the shoulder. "You're a great speaker, I'm sure you'll motivate the heck out of those kids. Have a good time, dude."

"Thanks, Fog."

Matt grabbed his briefcase, headed outside, then hailed a cab.

"Alright, where we goin'?" The cabbie asked.

"The Bronx," Matt answered. "Lavelle School for the Blind."

The cabbie tapped on a screen, presumably putting the address into his GPS. "Alrighty, just sit tight and we should be there in about half an hour."

Matt sat back as the cab began to move.  Think of it like a jury, Karen had said when Matt had told her and Foggy about the opportunity over a couple of pints at Josie's a few weeks before. Just a younger, way more judgmental jury.

Matt had laughed. Not helping.

You'll do great.

He mentally practiced his speech during the ride and before he knew it, the cab was pulling up in front of the school.

"Thanks," Matt said as he paid the cabbie.

"No problem," the cabbie replied. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

"You too."

Matt headed inside.

Almost immediately, a somewhat familiar voice asked him, "Hi, may I help you?"

Matt turned towards the voice. "Hi, yes, my name is Matthew Murdock. I'm one of the speakers for today?"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Murdock, I'm Dr. Bowman, we spoke on the phone."

Matt nodded, now placing the voice. "Right, right."

"We'll be in the meeting hall, which is straight down this corridor. If you'll just come with me…"

Dr. Bowman led Matt down to the meeting hall. "We really appreciate you taking time out of your schedule to speak to our students," she said as they entered.

"It's really not a problem."

"The students and their parents will be starting to arrive in a while, but if you'd like we could have someone escort you around to the exhibitor tables once they're all set up."

"Yeah, maybe."

"We have a Braille program if you'd like one -- it lists all the speakers and exhibitors for today."

"Yeah, I'd love one."

"Okay, one second."

Dr. Bowman stepped away for a minute then returned, handing Matt a booklet printed on Braille paper. "Okay, here you go."

"Thanks." Matt pointed to a nearby table. "Is it okay if I sit over here?"

"Yes, of course. Just let us know if you need anything."

"Will do."

Matt sat at the table and began to read the program. Staff, sponsors, speakers, exhibitors…

He began to read the exhibitor list. American Council for the Blind, representative Ashley Prewitt. VISIONS, representative Clay Markham. NYC Mayor's Office for People with Disabilities, representative Barbara Franklin. Andrew Heiskell Braille and Talking Book Library, representative Y/F/N Y/L/N --

Matt froze and read it again. Could it really be the same Y/N?

Y/N, who at 8 years old had taken 9-year-old Matt, who had just arrived at the orphanage, by the hand and declared that she would be his friend. Y/N, who had giggled when Matt had asked her a few days later if she was an angel and replied, 'no, silly, I'm a girl!' . Y/N, who had been Matt's fiercest protector and had gotten into almost as many fights as Matt himself had. Y/N, who would stroke Matt's hair softly until he fell asleep on the nights when he would sneak into her room because all the stimuli flooding his senses became too overwhelming. Y/N, to whom Matt had taught Braille so they could pass secret notes to each other without anyone else being able to read them. Y/N, who 17-year-old Matt had held while she cried the day they found out that Y/N had been taken in by her long-lost aunt and would be leaving Saint Agnes… and him. 

Y/N, his own personal guardian angel, the one person in the world Matt could tell everything to… except the one thing he had wanted to tell her most of all.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

"I don't want you to leave," he admitted quietly as he and Y/N stood at the entrance to St. Agnes.

"I don't want to leave either," Y/N replied. "I wish you could at least come with me."

Matt chuckled wryly. He had overheard one of the nuns talking to Ms. Y/L/N earlier that morning, warning her about 'that Murdock boy' and telling her how it was best for Y/N to be separated from him 'before he gets her into trouble'. "I don't think your aunt would go for that."

"Then can we run away together instead? We could travel the world, just you and me on the epic best friend adventure that we've always dreamed of." 

God, Matt wanted to say yes. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Y/N by his side, be it as his best friend or -- as he knew deep down in his heart -- something more.

However, Sister Bernadette had been right. Y/N really was an angel sent from on high who deserved all of the goodness in the world, and Matt… Well, Murdock boys had the devil in them.

He shook his head sadly. "Your aunt's waiting. You should go."

Y/N was quiet for a few moments. Finally, she said, "Before I go… I got you something."

She took Matt's hand and dropped a thin, wiry chain into his palm. "I saved up for six months to buy it from the church's gift shop. I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but…" She trailed off. "Anyway, think of me when you wear it, okay?"

Matt picked it up with his other hand. Attached to the chain was a small cross. 

He nodded. "I will. Thanks."

"I'll write to you, give you my aunt's address." Y/N pulled him into a tight hug then gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll miss you, Matty."

"I'll miss you too. Goodbye, angel."

Matt waited as half of his heart climbed into a cab and left, the note he had written to her the previous night still in his pocket.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Matt mentally shook his head. Don't get your hopes up. It may not be her.

…But deep down he knew it had to be.

He stopped someone who was walking by. "Excuse me, can you tell me if the representative from the Heiskell Library is here yet?"

"Umm…" the woman paused as she turned towards the exhibitor tables. "Yeah, actually, it looks like she's talking with Dr. Bowman at the moment."

"Okay, thank you."

"No problem."

As the woman walked away, Matt turned his head so he could listen in on the conversation.

"...So glad you could be here," Dr. Bowman was saying. "We really appreciate you taking time to come out and speak with our students and their parents."

"It's no problem, Dr. Bowman," the other voice replied. "I'm always happy to promote the library's services."

Matt sucked in a breath. It *is* her. 

Even after all the years that had passed since he had last spent time with Y/N he had never forgotten the sound of her voice, the times he had sat listening to her read to him still among his favorite memories.

Y/N and Dr. Bowman were wrapping up their conversation, so Matt stood and headed over towards them.

Either Y/N didn't notice that Matt was behind her or Matt had misjudged the distance between them, but Y/N turned around and bumped into him.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, sir, I--" Y/N gasped. "Wait, Matty?"

"It's just 'Matt' now, but yeah. Hi, angel." Matt was surprised at how easily his old nickname for Y/N slipped from his lips.

"Oh my God, hi!" Y/N wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "How are you? What are you doing here? Are you a teacher?"

Matt chuckled as he returned her embrace. "I'm well. I don't teach here, I'm actually one of the featured speakers."

"Oh, wow, that's wonderful."

"What about you? How have you been?"

"I'm well too, yeah. Oh my God, this is so crazy. Are you still in New York?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, still in Hell's Kitchen. You know me, I'm loyal to my city. What about you?" 

"Yeah, Florida was okay, but New York is home. I'm actually in Midtown West now, so I'm not far." Y/N paused. "Hey, would you want to maybe grab dinner or a drink or something after this is done, and I dunno, like, catch up? It's totally fine if you can't, I just thought maybe --"

Matt quickly shook his head. "No, no, yeah, I'd love to."

"Great! I'll have to run back by the library to drop all of my stuff off but I can meet you wherever after that."

Matt thought for a moment. "You still like Italian?"

Y/N let out a light laugh. "Of course."

"Then how about Bellissima Italia, over on 9th and 44th? That's near there, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great."

"Will 6:00 work for you? I'll make a reservation."

"That would be perfect. Here, let me give you my number in case something unexpected comes up. It probably won't, but then again, this is New York -- you never know what kind of craziness is going to happen next."

Matt chuckled and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "That's very true."

He created a new contact and typed in Y/N's name, then added her number once Y/N recited it to him.

He hit the button to call her, hanging up after Y/N's phone began to buzz in her pocket. "There, now you have mine."

"Awesome. I have to get to my table, but I'll see you tonight?"

Matt nodded as the doors opened and people began to trickle in. "Yeah, definitely. See you tonight, Y/N." 

"Bye, Matt."

Wow, what are the odds? Matt thought as Y/N walked back over to her table. 

He pulled his phone back out and headed back into the hallway to make their reservation, then called Foggy.

"Yo, Matt, what's up?" Foggy said in greeting.

"Hey, Foggy, do you remember me telling you about Y/N back when we were in college?"

"Y/N, as in Y/N, your childhood friend from the orphanage who you talked about non-stop and are still hung up on 16 years later Y/N? 'The one that got away' Y/N? That Y/N?"

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, that Y/N. Well, I actually just ran into her. It turns out she's a librarian at the Heiskell Library and is here promoting their library services, so we made plans to have dinner and catch up after this is over."

"Oh, wow, that's actually really awesome, dude. You said she works at the Heiskell Library?" 

Matt could hear Foggy sit down at his desk and start typing on his computer keyboard. "Yeah."

After a moment, Foggy said, "Damn it."

"What is it?"

"I knew she was gonna be hot!"

Matt huffed out a laugh. "Did you seriously just Google her?"

"I wanted to see what she looks like! You're a hot woman magnet, so of course your old childhood friend is hot. Is she single? Because if you change your mind about her…"

Matt just chuckled. "Not gonna happen. If I even remotely still have a shot with Y/N, I'm taking it." 

"Eh, I was just kidding anyway. Good luck tonight, man. Hope she's everything you remember her being and more."

"Thanks, Fog. I'll talk to you later."

"'Kay. Bye, Matt."

Matt hung up and headed back inside, both excited and nervous to catch up with Y/N later that evening.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Matt smoothed down his hair for what seemed like the tenth time as he arrived at the restaurant for his catch-up dinner with Y/N. 

He took a deep breath and headed inside.

"Buonasera," the seating host said. "Welcome to Bellissima Italia. How many in your party, sir?"

"Actually, I have a reservation for two at 6, under 'Murdock'," Matt replied. 

"Ah, yes, sir. Your companion's already arrived. Right this way."

Matt followed the seating host to where Y/N sat.

"Matt, you made it," Y/N said, standing and giving Matt a hug.

She had changed from the blouse and slacks she had worn earlier into a silk dress that hugged her form, and underneath the subtly floral perfume she wore was her familiar natural scent that had never failed to relax Matt when he was overwhelmed. Even now he could feel his nervous energy starting to calm.

He returned her embrace. "Hi."

"Joseph will be your server tonight," the host said as they sat. "If you need anything let us know."

"Thank you."

Matt folded up his cane and stuck it in his jacket pocket. "I hope you haven't had to wait long."

"No, I just got here a few minutes ago."

Their server walked up to their table. "Good evening, my name is Joseph and I'll be taking care of you. What can I get you to drink?"

"Can I get a glass of Pinot Grigio and a water?" Y/N said.

"Certainly, ma'am. And for you, sir?"

"I'll take a glass of Merlot and a water as well, thanks."

"Okay, certainly. I'll get that taken care of for you while you get a chance to look over the menu."

"Do you know what you want, or do you want me to read the menu to you?" Y/N asked as Joseph left.

"Actually if you don't mind telling me what's on the menu I'd really appreciate it," Matt replied. "I didn't get a chance to check it out before I came."

"No, it's not a problem at all." Y/N picked up her menu. "Let's see…"

Matt listened intently as Y/N quickly read the menu off to him. He nodded. "Okay, thanks. I think I know what I want."

A few moments later Joseph returned with their drinks. "Okay, here you are. And are we ready to order?"

Matt nodded. "I'm ready. Y/N, you want to go ahead?"

"Yes, I'd like the gnocchi in cream sauce, please," Y/N said. 

"Okay, and for you, sir?"

"I'll take the chicken parmigiana, thanks." Matt picked up his menu and handed it to Joseph.

"Okay, I'll put those in for you right away."

"Wow, I still can't believe this," Y/N said as Joseph left once again. "It's been, what, almost 20 years?"

Matt nodded with a grin. "Yeah, something like that. And even after all this time, you still look exactly the same."

Y/N laughed. "I'm glad to know that you haven't lost your sense of humor."

She took a sip of water. "So, catch me up on the past 20 years."

Matt shrugged. "Not much to tell. Left St. Agnes at 18, went to Columbia and got a law degree, opened my own practice with my college roommate, and that's about it." Except for the fact that I also became a crime-fighting vigilante, sent a mob boss to jail, and took down a secret organization of ninjas.

"Not married, no kids?"

Matt shook his head. "No, never found the right person." Because I already had found her but was too much of a coward to tell her how I felt before she left. "What about you? What have you been up to?"

"Finished high school in Florida, got my bachelor's degree in sociology, did my MLIS, and became a librarian. Did five years as a special services librarian in Florida, two in Indiana, then I managed to get on with the Heiskell Library and have been there ever since."

"No marriage or kids for you either?"

"No kids, almost got married once but it didn't work out. Wasn't anyone's fault, we just weren't right for each other."

Matt nodded. "How's your aunt?"

"Oh, she's fine. She's still in Florida so I talk to her every few days. Wait till I tell her I ran into you."

Matt gave a wry smile. "I dunno if she'll be happy about that. She didn't like me."

"What do you mean she didn't like you? She didn't even know you."

"She didn't have to. She had heard enough about me from Sister Bernadette to form an opinion."

"Ugh. Sister Bernadette. She did always seem to have it out for you."

Matt shrugged. "Well, in all fairness, I was kind of a troublemaker."

Y//N laughed. "Yeah, but I was usually right there with you in whatever trouble you were making, if not starting the trouble myself."

Matt grinned and took a sip of his wine. "You mean like the time we stole that bottle of Communion wine out of the church storeroom?"

Y/N laughed. "You know, that was the first thing I mentioned during confession after I started going to church in Florida. Seal of Confession or not, I wasn't about to confess to Father Reynolds about it."

Matt grinned. "Afraid of a harsher penance?"

"Yes! It was bad enough having to say five Acts of Contrition and three Our Fathers that time I punched Bobby Neyland in the face for tripping you in the hall. I had already gotten detention and I had to apologize to him, what more did they want?"

They were interrupted by Joseph bringing their dinners. "Alrighty, we have the gnocchi over here, and the chicken parmigiana here. Careful, those plates are hot. Is there anything else I can get you two?"

"No, I think we're fine," Y/N replied. "Matt?"

Matt shook his head. "We're good for now."

"Okay, let me know if you need anything else."

"Will do."

"Anyway," Y/N said, "we weren't always getting into trouble. Most of the time we were perfect little angels."

Matt chuckled. "I think your memory is faulty. You may have been an angel, but I certainly wasn't."

"We did have some good times together though, didn't we, Matty?"

Matt nodded, the quiet times he got to spend with Y/N floating through his mind. "Yeah, we certainly did."

The conversation continued to flow easily as Matt and Y/N reminisced about their childhood, and the next thing Matt knew dinner was over.

"Will that be one check or two?" Joseph asked as he cleared their plates.

"Just the one check, thanks," Matt said, handing Joseph his credit card before Y/N could protest.

"Next time, I'm paying," Y/N replied as Joseph went to go take care of the bill.

Matt grinned, thrilled that Y/N had even mentioned a 'next time'. "Deal."

He signed the check once Joseph returned for the last time, then unfolded his cane as he and Y/N stood. "May I walk you home?"

He could almost hear the smile in Y/N's voice as she replied. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that." 

Matt extended his arm. "Then shall we?"

They left the restaurant together, the ease and familiarity they once shared still there.

"So, what made you decide to become a librarian?" Matt asked as they headed towards Y/N's apartment building. "Last I knew you wanted to go out and save the world by becoming a big-time CEO of a Fortune 500 company."

Y/N huffed out a laugh. "Um, well, actually, it was you." 

Matt's eyebrows raised. "Me?"

"Yeah. When it was time to start thinking about college I spoke to my guidance counselor and told her about how my best friend was visually impaired and how I'd sit and read print books to him because there weren't any Braille or audiobooks in the orphanage where we grew up, and so she told me about how there were actually special library services for people with visual impairments and that maybe I should look into special services librarianship since I seemed called to that."

"And do you like it?"

"Yeah, more than anything. Like a lot of people might think that being a librarian is boring or an obsolete job, but you should talk to some of my patrons, Matt. They're all alone with no family or friends nearby, so listening to these audiobooks are the only things that they have to do all day. It's actually kind of heartbreaking."

Matt nodded with a soft smile. Y/N really was an angel.

"And I know I'm not like, saving lives or changing the world or anything," Y/N continued, "like by being a doctor or by helping innocent people who've been wrongfully accused of crimes like you and your partner, but I feel like I'm at least helping people in my own way, you know?"

Matt turned towards Y/N as they stopped at a crosswalk. "You think you haven't saved lives? 'Angel' wasn't just a nickname, sweetheart. You befriended a lonely, scared, angry little boy with absolutely zero fucks given as to what anyone else thought, and to this day I'm still so damn grateful for whatever made you see me and decide, 'Yes, that one. I want him as my best friend'."

Y/N let out a watery laugh. "Honestly, it wasn't a tough decision. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were going to be way cooler than everyone else."

Matt smiled softly. "You were my guardian angel, Y/N. I certainly wouldn't have made it without you."

He reached up and gently swiped his thumbs under her eyes, wiping away the tears that had collected there. "You okay?"

Y/N nodded. "Yeah."

Matt slipped his hand into Y/N's and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

They continued on their way to Y/N's apartment, Y/N seemingly as reluctant to let go of Matt's hand as he was to let go of hers.

"What about you?" Y/N asked. "What drew you to law?"

"I want to fight injustice and keep Hell's Kitchen safe, protect the people I care about," Matt said simply. "Going through the legal system seemed the best way to do that at the time."

"And now?"

"What?"

"You said 'at the time'. What's the best way now?"

Being Daredevil, Matt wanted to say. Protecting those I can't protect through the law. 

He shook his head. "I just know that everything's not as black-and-white with the legal system as I once thought."

"Yeah, I get that." Y/N slowed down as they reached her apartment building. "This is me."

Matt nodded. "I'm really glad we found each other again."

"I am too -- I've missed you so much, Matt. I tried to write to you after I moved but all of my letters came back 'return to sender'. Eventually I realized that they were returning my letters, but by that time it was too late, and it's not like I could just call up Sister Bernadette and ask for your forwarding address."

Matt shook his head. "I knew it. I knew something weird was going on. I could tell she was lying whenever I asked her if I had any mail from you."

"I still have them."

"The letters you wrote me?"

"Yeah, they're in a box in my closet."

"Can I read them?"

"Yeah, sure. You want me to go get them or do you want to come up for a drink and we can read them together?"

Matt nodded. "A drink would be nice." More time I can spend with you.

"Okay, then. Come on in."

Y/N led Matt through the lobby to the elevator and up to her apartment. "Make yourself at home," she said as she unlocked her door. "Living room is straight ahead, just mind the coffee table when you go around the couch to sit."

Matt sat while Y/N moved around her kitchen. "What's your preference?" Y/N asked. "I have wine, hard cider, amaretto, whiskey, rum…"

"Whiskey is fine. On the rocks."

He could hear Y/N adding ice to a couple of glasses then opening a couple of bottles, then smelled the scent of sweet & sour mix. "Let me guess. Amaretto sour for yourself?"

Y/N paused in her pouring. "How'd you know?"

"I can hear the difference in the shape of the bottles, and I can smell the sweet & sour."

"You're good." Y/N closed the bottles and put the sweet & sour mix back in her refrigerator. 

She handed Matt his glass before setting hers down on the coffee table. "Here you go. Give me just a second, I'll go grab the letters."

Matt took a sip of his whiskey as Y/N retreated to her bedroom.

She returned momentarily with a box. "Ok so remember, I was 16 when I started writing these, so don't judge me if they're cringy."

Matt chuckled. "I won't, I promise."

Y/N opened the box and handed him a manila envelope. "Here, start with this one. I'm pretty sure they're still in the order I wrote them."

Matt opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of Braille paper. "Can you still read Braille?" he asked.

"Yep, can still write in it too, although Braille printers make everything a lot easier these days."

Matt set the piece of paper on the coffee table and began to read aloud. 

"September 30, 2002

Dear Matty,

Just got settled in at Aunt Ruth's house. My bedroom here is as big as both of ours at St. Agnes combined. 

Hoping I can convince Aunt Ruth to let you come visit soon, maybe during Thanksgiving?

By the way, my address is 4685 Sandpiper Blvd., Miami, FL 33190.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Y/N"

Y/N snorted. "Yeah, 'I'm sure you'll be able to get away from the orphanage for a week or so to come hang out with your bestie in Florida!' Man, was I naive."

Matt shook his head. "You didn't know. Neither of us could've known that they'd actually try to keep us apart."

Y/N picked up the next envelope. "Here, I'll read the next one."

Matt nodded. "Okay."

"October 21, 2002," Y/N began.

Dear Matty,

I must've done something wrong with the postage on my first letter, because it came back marked return to sender. Adding double to make sure this gets to you.

Aunt Ruth wants me to join some after-school clubs, make some new friends. I don't want *new* friends, though. I just want you.

Speaking of making new friends, you know that song 'make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold'?  Well, it's not true. You're way more precious to me than gold. You're more like… I don't know, the rarest and most precious substance on earth, whatever that may be.

Anyway, address is 4685 Sandpiper Blvd., Miami, FL 33190. Write me back!

Always,

Y/N"

Matt picked up the next envelope. "November 12, 2002.

Dear Matty,

Another letter came back return to sender. Don't quite know what I'm doing wrong, but hopefully this one reaches you!

School has been okay. Don't think I told you yet, but Aunt Ruth enrolled me in some fancy all-girls Catholic school. I'm really enjoying English class. We're reading The Crucible. Maybe next time we're together I'll read it to you. Think you'd like it.

Anyway, hope you're doing okay. I miss you.

Always,

Y/N"

Y/N laughed. "You know, my offer to read The Crucible to you still stands."

Matt grinned. "In that case I might have to take you up on it. You're still my favorite audiobook narrator."

He could hear the smile in Y/N's voice as she began to read her next letter. 

"January 10th, 2003.

Dear Matty (or is it just Matt now that you're the big 1-8?),

Happy birthday! I wish I could be there with you to celebrate. I wanted to surprise you and come visit, but Aunt Ruth said no. (Party pooper.)

I hope your day is amazing and that you get everything you wish for, because you deserve it! *Heart*

Miss you like crazy and I really hope to hear from you soon!

Always,

Y/N"

Matt shrugged. "My 18th birthday was fine, nothing overly special." I didn't get my wish, but now I know why.

He cleared his throat. "April 6, 2003.

Dear Matt,

I don't know if I did something wrong before I left and you're mad at me or if I'm just that inept at mailing a letter, but I just got a bunch of letters back unopened again. I really hope it's the latter because if it's the first, I don't know what I did but whatever it is, I'm sorry. Just please talk to me. I want my best friend back.

Y/N"

Matt's heart broke. Damn them. Damn them all to Hell for making Y/N think she could ever do something to make me not want her in my life. 

He finished his glass of whiskey before picking up the next letter.

"Want a refill?" Y/N asked.

Matt nodded. "Sure."

Y/N stood and went to make them each another drink while Matt read the next letter aloud.

"September 3, 2003

Dear Matt,

I don't even know why I'm still trying. You're 18 now, I'm sure you're not even at St. Agnes anymore. You're probably off to college and have made fancy new college friends, so even if this letter somehow reached you you probably wouldn't respond anyway, but I wanted to tell you goodbye anyway and to wish you good luck.

Y/N"

Matt's brow furrowed. "But there's more letters."

"Yeah." Y/N sounded hesitant as she set Matt's drink down on the table. "I never sent any of the rest though."

She picked up the next one. "December 9, 2003.

Dear Matt,

I'm sitting here in English class (well, not now since I'm writing this in Braille instead of standard print) and our bell assignment today was to write a letter to someone who is no longer in our lives. I'm sure the point is probably to write to someone who's dead, but whatever, I'll write to whomever the hell I want.

Aunt Ruth finally told me the truth: that St. Agnes had been returning your letters to me before you even got them. Needless to say, I'm furious. I don't understand why they would go to such lengths to keep us apart, or why Aunt Ruth would even agree to it.

I hope you don't think I never tried to get in touch with you, because the thought of you believing that I would just abandon you like that tears me up inside.

I miss you, Matt, and I hope you're doing well.

Y/N" 

Matt shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N. I hate that you ever even had to think that I would ignore your letters."

Y/N reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. "It wasn't your fault."

They continued reading, Y/N telling him about getting into college, the classes she was taking each semester, graduation, getting into grad school and getting her library science degree, her first job as an official librarian… 

Y/N took a sip of her cocktail before starting the next letter.

"March 8, 2012

Dear Matt,

I've met someone . His name is Alex and he works in the I.T. department of the library. I think you two would get along -- you're a lot alike.

We've been dating for a few months now and things are going pretty well. I'll keep you posted as to where things lead.

Y/N"

Matt picked up the second-to-last letter. 

"January 13, 2013

Dear Matt,

Alex proposed, and I said yes. We're planning a fall wedding -- nothing big, just close family and friends.

I wish you could be there. I thought about asking Alex if he could look you up on the internet to see if he could find an address for you. Could you imagine? We haven't been in contact in over 10 years and suddenly you get an invitation to my wedding.

Crazy, right?

Y/N"

Even though Matt knew that things didn't work out between Y/N and her ex-fiancé, his stomach was still in knots as Y/N began to read her final letter.

"June 29, 2013

Dear Matt,

I ended my engagement with Alex today. We were touring wedding venues over the weekend but none of them felt right, and I realized this morning that it wasn't the venues that felt wrong, it was me.

You see, I can't marry Alex, not when-- " Y/N paused and took a deep breath.   "Not when I've been in love with you for most of my life."

Matt's brain screeched to a halt. What did she just say? 

"God, I'm so pathetic," Y/N continued, "pining over someone to whom I haven't even spoken in years. It's not fair to Alex to marry someone who's in love with another man and it's not fair to myself to keep holding on to something that I can never have. 

I guess I've kept writing to you in order to somehow hold on to you and to feel like we were still teenagers writing secret notes to each other, like maybe one day I'd have the courage to finally tell you how I feel.

I'll always love you, Matt, but maybe it's time for me to finally let you go.

Y/N"

Matt turned towards Y/N, who had picked up her drink and was currently draining it. "You were in love with me?"

Y/N remained silent, but the uptick in her heartbeat gave Matt hope. 

He took her glass from her and set it down on the table before taking her hand in his. "Y/N? Please, angel, talk to me."

Y/N took a deep breath. "I still am, Matt. I still love you. I never stopped."

Oh, thank God. "I love you too," Matt murmured. "I've loved you probably since the moment I met you, it just took me a few years to figure out what it was I was feeling." 

He pulled out the cross Y/N had given him out from under his shirt. "I've always kept you close to my heart, Y/N."

Y/N reached out and placed her hand on his chest, warming the metal cross pressing against Matt's shirt. "I was wondering if you still had that."

Matt nodded. "I've rarely taken it off in the past 20 years." 

He paused. "I was going to tell you I loved you the day you left for Florida. I had written you a note telling you how I felt."

"Why didn't you give it to me?"

"Right before I was going to I overheard Sister Bernadette talking to your aunt about how it was best to separate us so I wouldn't ruin your life, and I realized it definitely wasn't fair for me to tell you I loved you right before you moved a thousand miles away."

"What the hell? How would you have ruined my life?"

Matt huffed out a laugh. "Well, let's see, the exact phrasing she used was 'before he gets her into trouble'."

"Before you 'got me into trouble'? Wait, did she -- did she think we were sleeping together ?" Y/N sounded both horrified and amused.

Matt shrugged. "Well, she wouldn't have technically been wrong."

"Well no, but all we ever did was literally sleep together!"

"Maybe, but it's not like I never thought about doing the other kind of sleeping together with you."

Y/N gave a playfully scandalized gasp. "Why, Matthew, I certainly hope you went to confession for that."

"More than once." Matt chuckled. "I mean, I was a hormonal teenage boy who was hopelessly in love with my best friend, of course my thoughts drifted there from time to time."

Y/N was quiet for a moment. "I wonder if maybe someone saw you sneaking out of my room one morning and reported us, and that's why Sister Bernadette thought something was going on. She could've confronted us though instead of just shipping me off and keeping us apart for almost 20 years. So much wasted time, and over what was probably a complete misunderstanding."

Matt shook his head. "Angel?"

"Yeah, Matty?"

"I'm going to kiss you now."

Y/N sucked in a breath. "Uh huh, yeah, okay."

Matt reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand, then -- after over 20 years of longing -- gently pressed his lips to hers.

He leaned back, a smile spreading on his face as he caressed the matching smile on Y/N's with his thumb. "So, how about dinner again tomorrow night?"

Y/N hummed. "What, you don't want to lose touch for another 20 years and hope we randomly run into each other again?"

Matt shook his head with a laugh at Y/N's teasing tone. "No way, angel. I spent almost 20 years without you, so now that I've got you back in my life I'm not letting go."

#lotmf writes #AoG Masterlist #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x yn

[madwomansapologist]

━ ✧ unraveling you | chapter 1 - welcome to westview!

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series synopsis: Trapped inside Westview, Agatha Harkness was reduced to Agnes. The noisy neighbor and nothing more than that. Until a meteor rain brought something strong to Westview. Something strong enough to help her, and maybe strong enough to free her. You. In a journey to save herself by teaching you the ways of magic, Agatha Harkness wants one thing only: to avenge herself.

Agnes woke up before the alarm, unsure if she even slept last night.

Standing in front of the bedside table, surrounded by shadows and whispers of familiar voices, cold water soaked her feet. It rained at midnight. She remembers it now. Soon Agnes will forget about it, but for now she remembers.

The analog glitched, its numbers changing again. Agnes tried to blink. It never works. Not before the right time. Rubbing bellow her sore eyes, Agnes felt the trace of tears. It wasn’t raining, a familiar voice whispered on her ears. If only she knew whom it belongs to. My tears flooded this cursed place.

Something trembled inside her mind. Hatred. Agnes didn’t knew she could name her feelings. Hatred, hatred, hatred. That made her laugh, but then the clock changed again. Time to wake up. The rebellion was gone just as quickly as it came.

She made her bed, without noticing that the pillowcase was left backwards. Agnes opened the curtains. It had stopped raining already. Something told her to dry the floor. It was an order, and she obeyed. What else could she do?

The kitchen was next on her assorted routine. Agnes made coffee, without any sweetener, althought she prefers tea. She drank it all in one gulp. It burned her tongue and throat.

She stared at the knifes on the counter top. It was impossible to not wonder. To not imagine a different path. An exit door. If only she were allowed to get near them. If only Agnes could grab one of them and just…

Agnes took her keys and stood before the main door. She smiled widely. As she walked outside, her hands waived automatically to her neighboors.

An empty puppet, something whispered in her ears. You lived far too long. Agnes agreed.

― Good morning, hot suff! ― Agnes purred, opening the fence. ― A good day to be good, am I right?

Sarah Proctor bumped her head against the car. It was too early for someone to be that noisy. She rolled her eyes and went back to taking her groceries out of the car, ignoring Agnes’ presence.

― Just drop the act ― Sarah murmured to herself.

Agnes passed by her, continuing her daily walk through town. After wandering around the center, her path ended at an isolated grove. She sat on a bench still damp from last night rain and gazed at the sky.

After an hour the watch on her hand bipped, allowing Agnes to go back home. Later that day, the clock on her kitchen’s wall gave her permission to eat. Another on the living room made her turn on the TV. Then off. One informed her of when to go to bed.

That morning, when the clock woke her up, Agnes threw it against the wall. It ricocheted, the metal colliding against the bricks, and slid under her bed. It kept on echoing inside her head.

When Agnes got out of bed, it stopped.

Agnes ate eggs with no salt and drank old, icy coffee.

― I am happy ― Agnes smiled, glaring at herself through a mirror on the kitchen’s wall. Lips ever so enchanting. Her cheeks burned. And so did her eyes. ― Don’t look at the knifes. You are happy.

Forced to walk out of that place ― she can’t call it home, no magic or spell can make Agnes call it home ―, Agnes felt the cold tears against her skin. More of a drizzle than a tempest, but uncomfortable still. Without an umbrella or warm clothes, Agnes continued her day.

Part of her wanted to know what month it was. It’s raining more often. Which season are they on? The other part knew that time meant little now. It lost its meaning when she stopped trying. She can’t remember how long ago that was.

She can’t remember most things now.

Gazing at the sky, all she could see were gray clouds. They moved slowly, the air changing their shapes as it continues to rain. Then, something passed right throught it. An blue line crossing the sky, leaving an trail of smoke behind. Dozens upon dozens of them fell from the sky, all ending the gray hanging over Westview.

Meteor rain.

It burned so brightly. The fire catching as they passed right throught the atmosphere seemed rosy from where Agnes stood, watching intensively the espectacle. The rain ceased, the clouds dissolving so the blue sky was visible.

It is beautiful. Agnes laughed. The world really is.

Agnes watched as they dissapeared in the sky. All meteors burned until they were barely tiny rocks. Once so powerfull, now reduced to nothing out of Earth’s nature. Except by one. It was bigger than the others, and it glistened red. It continued falling, crossing the sky with ease, as if its fate was to be a constant presence.

Her laugh ceased when Agnes realized it was too close.

Unable to move away, to say anything, Agnes was the witness of its destruction. It crashed into the trees of the grove, tearing everything on its way down. The wood turned into dust, the grass disappeared, the rainwater boiled. An endless moment of pure despair.

It was so beautiful.

A circle of fog expanded throught the grove with its impact. It covered everything there. Agnes coughed, trying to protect her face from the hot air.

Agnes tried to find her way towards the meteor. Ignoring the destruction, she focused on a pearly glow deep into the grove. Outlined by the trees, it glistened. Agnes just wanted to see it closer.

It has been so long since she last wanted something.

The pearly glow started to fade, and a woman’s silhouette appeared in the middle of it. It looked like she was walking on fire, then it suddenly was the opposite. She was brighter than anything else. The only thing shining in this whole world.

And she looked at Agnes, eyes burning in a white liquid light. A sign of strength. Of power and potential. Agnes was unaware that her own shined purple, overflowing with her magic.

The woman fell unconsious on the floor, leaving Agnes to figure out how to take her home.

 ― Welcome to Westview ― Agnes murmured to herself. ― Home is where you make it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The universe was fated to end in harmony.

All worlds crumbled together. Suns imploded in waves, disturbing the planets orbiting around it. Galaxies crashed against one another, satelites imploding and changing comets’ paths.

Colors that were once infinite, sounds that were once the only unavoidable event, all faded.

Nothing remains. No darkness, no vacuum, no space to be rebuilt. Nothing except them, ready to go and never look back. The job was finished. They turned out the lights, cleaned the mess. Now it’s time to leave and lock the door behind them.

― I can start it over ― you declared. ― Get it right this time. Do it right.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The ceiling was molding. It was the first thing you’ve noticed. Not only was it visibly molding but you could smell it too. Those facts came accompanied by a doubt: who’s ceiling was that?

― Morning, beautiful ― a energetic voice startled you.

You moved your neck, now seeing the woman standing at the other side of the room. As you sat on the bed, back against the icy wall, your whole body throbbed.

― You’ve slept for quite sometime now ― she pointed out. A voice so full with energy, and yet her eyes were sore. She looked exhausted. ― Do you remember anything that happened?

You tried to think of what you did last. Of where you were. Nothing came to your mind. You are here now. There is no before. There is just this room, that tired woman and doubts you don’t have a way to answer.

― Who are you? ― You rubbed your face, trying to get your mind to work. Your heart vibrate inside your chest. ― What is happening?

Agnes saw that same light pooring through your eyes again. That pearly glow defying the rules of gravity. Little rays of energy came out of your fingers, and their intensity made the room vibrate.

Your magic was untamed.

Tempting.

― I know as much as you do ― Agnes sat down beside you. She reach out for you, stroking your back slowly. As if you were a beast chosing between attacking or running away. ― Breath in, breath out. There is no need for you to panic.

You tried to do as she said. Again and again, you tried to calm yourself. The energy on your eyes disappeared, the power gone, revealing tears about to escape.

Agnes wiped your cheek. The tear glistened, and Agnes saw it for what it was: a crystal. When her thumb brushed against it, the crystal penetrated her skin. She saw it disappearing on her finger, but felt nothing.

Keep her around, that voice told her. This time, it sounded different. Like it came from a different plane of existence, one that suddenly became closer to her own. Agnes recognizes it now. That voice was her own. Don’t let her go.

You did something to her. To Agatha Harkness. Not Agnes, not the noisy neighboor, not an middle age lady with something flirtatious to say. She is Agatha Harkness. You shattered something, and Agatha needs you to fully break it.

― There is something about you ― still, the words were pronounced by Agnes. That tooth-aching sweet tone, so fake and unhuman. ― Something impressive about you. Reminds me of someone I used to know.

― Used to?

Agnes opened her mouth, but the words she wanted didn’t made out of it. Agatha could think, but Agnes is the one that can act. And Agnes isn’t allowed to do as it pleases her.

― It’s fine ― you saw right throught her. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t. You felt it in your bones. ― If you can’t talk about it.

Can’t. Not don’t want. You said can’t.

The clock interrupting her line of thought once more. Time for another walk. Agnes kneeled down, getting it from under the bed. She glared at it, broken in pieces and still ticking.

That bitch can’t be simple, can she?

Agnes’ threw it out of the window.

― It’s that annoying?

― Honey, you don’t even know.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The leaves levitated, dancing on the sky. From the questroom on the second floor you couldn’t see the ground. For you, the leaves were flying etternaly. A matter of perspective.

Your back burned. You were being watched. Turning around, you expect to see Agnes. The woman you meet a day prior. That funny, tired, noisy woman who took care of you when you needed it the most. Instead, by the open door of your room, tiny black eyes glared at you.

You kneeled down and waited for it to get closer. When it did, you stroked its ears. So soft against your palm, malleable and warm. A rabbit. You remember. That tiny animal is called a rabbit.

― Let’s buy something different for dinner ― Agnes entered the room, cleaning her hands with a towel. You smelled raw meat. And you don’t know how, but you knew she would rather starve than to eat that again. ― Put on some clothes.

You continued to scratch the rabbit’s ear.

― I’m already using clothes.

― You’re using a nightgown.

― And? ― It was a honest question. Agnes could tell. ― Is it wrong to wear that?

That naivety intrigues Agnes. She saw it on Wanda before. That need to pretend the world is somewhere simple than it is by turning yourself into someone easier to be. Something happened to you. Something that you rather forget than face.

No honest questions or sweet smiles will make Agnes forget you came with the meteors. That you smelled like magic and potential. You’re strong. Strong enough to recover from whatever stole your memories. All you need is time. Agnes will give you that.

And when you’re to pay for your debt, Agnes will chose what to take from you.

― He likes you ― Agnes said. She opened the wardrobe, looking for something you could use outside. ― Señor Scratchy, I mean. That’s no very common.

― I like him too ― you yawn. ― You could feel it, right Señor Scratchy?

Cute.

Agnes put some clothes on the bed and walked from the room, giving you time to change. After long enough for Agnes to get impatient, you appeared on the kitchen. In front of the main door, Agnes grabbed the keys.

― Do you remember anything else now? ― She unlooked the door, trying to look like she wasn’t giving to much thought to the subject.

It wasn’t the first time Agnes asked you that, but it was the first time you had something to say.

― Yes, I do!

― Oh ― Agnes smiled. ― And what is it?

― Señor Scratchy is a rabbit!

Agnes opened the main door, nodding to herself. That was on her, she admits it. She better lower her expectations. Althought, it is curious you know what a rabbit is. She wonders if maybe you hit your head after the meteor crashed. Perhaps it’s a medical case, not a magic one.

But her intuition says the contrary, and Agnes trusts it enough.

― Of course, sweetheart ― she murmured. ― A rabbit.

You weren’t paying attention on her. Wandering out of the house, you just observed the world. It was the first time you got out of the house. So many lights and colors, they all blend together to create new things. From that tiny window, all you could see were trees and the skies. But this…

― Wow ― you laughed. ― Oh my.

Agnes held you by the shoulders to make you walk towards the center. Instead of behaving, you just walked whenever you wanted to. A few times Agnes had to stop you from crashing against a car.

― Can you stop moving? ― Agnes hissed, following you. ― We were supposed to head…

― Morning, Agnes! ― A neighbor she don’t remember the name waived at her.

― Morning, sweetie!

When she turned back, you were gone. Agnes cursed, running towards you on the other side of the street. Agnes crossed the park’s entrance, but stopped trying to reach for you when she noticed what this place was. A graveyard.

She just wanted to buy pork.

Agnes made to where you stood, glaring at an old grave. It was molding, and part of it fell down. In silence, she observed it. The birthday was unkown. The death was a few years prior. What happened to them?

― What are those? ― You looked at her. ― That’s a weird place.

― They bury dead people here ― Agnes explained to you. ― And write some things about them on stone. Birthday, date of death, name, maybe a pretty sentence.

― Why?

― I’m not really sure ― she admitted. ― I guess it makes the living feel better.

― I don’t have a name ― was your response. You pointed at the grave, but Agnes kept on looking at you. ― I want that one.

Agnes laughed. A real, belly aching laugh.

― Stealing someone’s name, huh? ― Agnes nodded to herself. ― I don’t think they will miss it.

As you explored the cemetery, Agnes watched over you, testing your new name on her tongue.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

UNRAVELING YOU TAGLIST: @harknessshi

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#madwomansapologist #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x female reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness imagine #wandavision fic #wandavision fanfic #wandavision #avengers

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

The guest - PT 7

Masterlist

It didn't take long for you to find Jack and Fagin sitting together in the cat and bagpipes.

"I found the money." Fagin says to his friend.

" Brilliant. We'll put it back and make all this disappear." Jack's words make you smile involuntarily.

"Put it back? I've heard some guff in my time, but that really puts the pickle in the biscuit jar." Fagin protested.

" Where's the money, Fagin?" Jack sighed.

"I had to hide it from the redcoats."

" Where?"

" Near Tinkler." You interject.

"Tinkler's dead." Jack says to you, then turns back to Fagin, " Did you hide it in his coffin?"

" Close to his coffin."

"Where did you hide it?" Jack was getting exasperated.

"I told ya. Near Tinkler."

No. Where?"

"In Tinkler. Inside Tinkler." You say looking between the two. Jack rolls his eyes at Fagin. He takes your hand.

"What do we do?" He asks.

You tell him to go to the graveyard and follow the two men out.

"He could be in any one of these" Jack groans seeing the several mounds of new graves, "Do you know which one?" He turns to you.

"Oh, um...it was..." You shake your head, "no I can't remember." You sigh, "I'm sorry." Jack steps up close to you, taking your hand once more.

"It's alright, you know so much, I can't expect you to know everything." He smiles. You hear a scoff not too far away and you both look over at Fagin.

"If young love could take a moment, we do have a predicament here." He said.

"We need to find Aputi. He'll know where he buried him. Help us dig him up, too." Jack said not leaving your side. You would admit only to yourself how nice it felt.to have his hand hold yours.

" It's not right, Dodge." You hear Fagin say.

" What?"

" It's against me principles."he explains

"And since when do you have principles?" Jack asked.

" I do about this. Life's hard. These people have had their tribulations. They've had the worst of times, the best of times, and now, they're at peace, so, it's better not to disturb them." Fagin seemed almost truthful in his words.

" They're not people anymore, are they? They're just worm-raddled meat." Jack scoffed.

"Don't say that" you and Fagin say together making the older man glance at you.

" This is no time to get squeamish, Fagin. Gaines, he's just a breath away from scraggin' us. What's this really all about?" Jack looks betweent he two of you.

"I know I wasn't always a good dad." Fagin vegan.

" No, you were never my dad. You abandoned me, remember? Traditionally, dads don't do that." Jack's chest tightened with his hard breaths.

"I did and I didn't."

" I was 13 years old and you left me in a cell!" Jack's voice broke at his words and his hand squeezed yours tighter.

"I know and it rots me heart, but I was trying to help ya." Fagin faught back.

"It's a funny way of showing it. I'm asking for your help now." Jack begs, you stay quiet beside Jack.

"And I'm telling you this is the one thing I will not do. These are people. They've got mums and dads who try not to think about what they look like now."

" How would you know?"

Because I lost a loved one. I lost my Agnes. She was the joy of me life. Barely six-"

"Oh enough, Fagin." You interrupt, "Agnes was a dog." You say. Fagin frowns at you and Jack scoffs.

"Of course it was." He turns to you, "you really don't remember?"

You shake your head.

"Okay, go home, we'll do this." He saysm

"I can help." You begin to protest.

"No, I won't have you have close to this. We need you to be as invisible as we can, until we work out your other problem." His eyebrows raise and he looks at you intensely.

"Okay."

*_*_*_*

That afternoon you find Belle in the kitchen at Government house, she has a large pig carcass strewn across it.

"What's going...oh carbolic acid." You say and slip onto a wooden stool by the table.

"Do you know anything about it?" She asks you.

"Not really, we don't use things like that, yet. Maybe you'll be the first to discover something that will work." You correct your language hoping Belle won't catch on.

She continues to mix the acid a vile, pouring it onto slabs of the pig meat.

"So, I cut open a body yesterday." She announced.

"Oh, you did?" You know you have to pretend you know nothing.

"Yes, I found a cloth on Tinkler's body. It was used to clean the morgue, it had carbolic acid on it. There was no rot under the cloth. Jack and I cut it open and there was no rot under the skin. No infection." She smiled wide and excitedly.

"That's amazing! It could change everything." You agree.

"But he won't let me use it until I can stop it burning." She admits capturing her lip between her teeth.

"Probably a good idea." You laugh, "Jack is a lovely man don't you think?" You say.

"hmm, he is agreeable I suppose." She scrunches her nose, "I know who I would rather spend my time with." She smiles at you, her eyes twinkling in the sunlight seeping in from the high windows.

"You could do a lot worse than him, Belle. Imagine if Sneed asked you to marry him." You let out a laugh and Belle follows you. Both of you are unable to control the laughter. You laughed so hard Noether of you noticed the vile being placed on the edge of the table. Nor did you notice the way it wobbled with every bump, until.finslly it tipped over, spilling on to your leg. You let out a gasp.

"Oh my gosh, Y/n!" Belle jumped to your side, grabbing your hands away from your leg. The acid had burned through the wool of your trousers and into your skin.

"Belle, It will always be too strong like this. Use a perfume bottle, so it disperses. I'm going to go to the hospital and get this seen to." You say through gritted teeth.

"A perfume bottle? You should change first, your leg is exposed." She calls after you.

You had hoped you wouldn't have to put a dress on again for some time so it was an annoyance pulling the heavy material on to your waist. You chose to forgo the birdcage crinoline and rushed off to town. By the time you had changed Belle was waiting for you.

"I need some things from town to finish this." She explains joining you on the walk to town. Once there you broke off to go into the hospital.

"Rainsford." You called out to him. The doctor stopped his confident stroll to look at you.

"Are you alright?" He asked, seeing you grimace against the movement of your leg.

"Not really. I need your help." You say. He jumps into action taking your weight against him with an arm around your waist and leading you into a private room.

"What on earth happened?" He asked when he saw the burn on your leg.

"An accident with a misplaced bottle of carbolic acid." You explain. Sneed nods and runs off for a moment grabbing a round tub filled with a white substance. You assumed it was a mixture of petroleum jelly, pip and wax.

"If you don't mind?" Sneed asks for permission to touch your leg. You nod. The salve is cold but soothing against the burn. He gently rubs it into your inflamed skin, one hand holding the underside of your leg. You watch him, knowing fully now that whilst you may have grown feelings for him, there was no way you could whilst another person was in your vicinity.

"y/n, I wanted to apologise for this morning. You were right, I was rather forward. The proposal was far too quick." He says.

"No, please. There is no need to apologise." You reply.

"perhaps, there is hope that we may instead spend more time together?" He looks up at you with hopeful eyes.

"Oh, I think, perhaps, we should continue a friendship only." You say, your hand rests on his shoulder in hopes that it would comfort him in some way.

Sneed's smile falls from his lips and he stands , stepping away from you.

"Very well." He leaves the room and you look up to the window seeing Jack looking in on you. Shame fell over you and you quickly pulled your dress down over your leg. Jack blinks a few times, takes in a visible breath and walks away.

"Jack! Jack please." You call after him, limping to keep up with him.

He spins round to face you almost knocking you back.

"You and Sneed." You're not sure if his words are a question or not.

"No, Jack please-"

"What was happening in there!" He asked.

"I hurt my leg, with the acid from Belle, he was just helping me." You try to explain.

"No, she said she's sorted it." He clenched his jaw, the tiny muscles moving below his skin.

"Before that, it was an accident, the bottle fell. Jack, please, there is nothing between Sneed and I." You are almost bleeding with him to listen to you.

"Why go to him?" He asks.

"he was just the first person I saw when I came in. It's nothing." You say.

"I don't like it. I don't like him being that close to you, touching you." Jack admits. You sigh and close your eyes.

"I'm sorry Jack."

Jack grabs your hand and pulls you into a secluded corridor. His hands come up, one to your jawline, his fingertips touching the back of your neck and the other around your waist.

"I don't like it." He repeats a little more sternly, "I want to...to be the only man who touches you." He face had come close to yours almost touching. Every part of your body longed to let him kiss you, to have you in every way a man could have a woman. Though your mind quickly took over.

"We can't." You whisper.

"Why not?"

"Belle."

"What?" He was still close to you, with your arms resting on his chest.

"Jack, I told you, I'm not from here, there is a whole story that needs to play out." You explain. A low growl arose from Jack's throat.

"I don't care about that." He says.

"But I do, I can't change things. I've tried and it always ends up going back. Please. I'm sorry Jack, I just can't. You and Belle are supposed to...she is so smart and so good."

"She's insufferable." He brushes his nose against yours, lips only millimetres from your own. You can feel his warm breath fanning out over your lips. His thumb gently rubbed your jawline and his other hand squeezed your waist.

"Just kiss me, then you'll know that I'm right. We can be together, please." He begins to move his chin angling his mouth to yours and though you long to do it you pull away from him, sliding out of his grasp.

"No, you are meant to be with Belle. I won't do this." You say before ruining away as fast as your leg would allow you to.

Masterlist

@fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon

#jack dawkins x y/n #jack dawkins x reader

[ikkosu]

SOME WORDS UNSAID

(prowlxfem.reader)

author’s note : hello yes, I bring another angst. whew another long, long fic I’ll probably never look at agn. a draft that's been rotting for like months now. had the chance to finish it now. (a bit inspired by the prowl headcannons)

summary : prowl soon realizes the extent of his own loneliness is something he pushed away for far too long. (alternatively, the three times he's asked you to stay; you were never able to.)

warnings : a bit of smut. death. blood. emotional manipulation.

[i]

He's yet to understand these patrons. Why they frequent the bar so often. Drink away to forget their problems.

Prowl leers at the purple ripple, watching it crest before it breaks out into a wave. His digits were deft and tense, wrapping around the mug, rims caked with the same kind of sludge. Pressed against the table, his helm buzzes with the clamour of the bar.

'It's simply illogical, how can someone be so reeled into their thoughts it becomes a plague? 'He'd chastise Chromedome once.

Now, his face is a clear visage on the engex, seams of a frown present, yet the more he glared, the more it churns into something different. Into something alien. Into something unlike him.

"I think it's time we open up that box of problems," Rung's voice was gentle. Unbiased. Not sickly sweet, not monotone, just a clean middle ground where it doesn't ring a bell to punch.

"There are two ways a Cybertronian choose to store their memories." A digit juts out, perking in tandem of his list. Prowl holds back the urge to roll his optics.

"One is much like a gift, wrapped with an abundance of colors. Sparkly and bright. All the good things you'd want to store. The other is a safe haven. A comfort you can dwell when weather comes hard. The last—''

"Let me guess, garbage?" He says dismissively, unbothered to hold the spectacle-looking bot his gaze.

He’s looking at the wall behind him, at the certificates and little ‘toys’ lodged up on the shelf. Is he even a licensed psychiatrist? He'll have to review his profile in full.

"If you want to put it that way, yes." He eventually voices, then seemingly with a more cautious tone he edges on. "Are you bitter about what transpired?"

"Don't even try." Prowl grips the armchair with a vice "There's no point talking about this. What's done is done; it's all in the past. Locked away, tucked neatly from where it came from. I don't get why some people think it's a good idea to re-open up the memory lane."

Rung smiles, often directing his gaze back to the scribbles on the datapad. "I'm sure to you it won't mean much but it helps to understand the underlying emotions of your own grief."

"Yeah? Well, what' it going to do, bring back the dead? " An accusing digit juts out to Rung's chassis. "So, immediately after I open up, it's all sparkles and glitter and everyone lives happy? Is that it? You think it's going to do something?"

'bring her back to life?'

"Loss is something we inevitably face. Avoiding that prospect only broils more complications." He tries to explain.

"Oh, forget it. Why did Rodimus thinks he can be bothered enough to urge you to 'talk' to me about how 'oh-so-feel'?"

"It wasn't his orders, actually. It's Chromedome." He fixes his spectacles, still treading on the gentle tone.. “ He was, ah, in his own terms, worried about how you'll approach the situation...."

Prowl grits his teeth, bristling. "You think I'm mad? You think I need help?"

"Prowl, please." The datapad is laid on his lap as Rung tries to reason. "Nobody thinks that way. In fact they're all worried about you despite your unnatural disposition—"

"About me." He laughs. A bitter one. "About me?"

Prowl stands up with a kick of the chair. It's sent sprawling to the other side of the corner. Momentarily lost, Rung doesn't notice Prowl inching up close to the psychiatrist, snarling much like a jaguar.

"Listen here, goggles." Every enunciation pelts him like a bullet. "If they're so worried about me they would've listened to my concerns the moment I tell them something's about to go wrong. You think I want this? You think I'm mad enough that I need help?"

Rung winces when his helm hits the headrest, avoiding prowl's domineering gaze when he leans in. Nose to nose. Up and personal.

"I'll say it once and I'll say it again. So don't pester me with all this ridiculous requests. I. Dont. Need. His. Help. Yours, either. Everyone's too. So, don't expect me to come back here."

[ii]

None of his business.

Prowl grips the hinds of the door, staggering out from the bar. The engex pounded his helm. It reeled him senseless, mindless. The ground spins beneath him. He's dizzy, close to stumbling. He ignores whatever the bartender chattered about as he left. Something about straightening out the local punks causing trouble. Something about graffiti.

The city lights are a mingled mass of blur as he sauntered across the pavement. Funny looks were thrown at his expense. The ironic visage of his own authority dawdling off like a drunkard. Every organic he sees churns his spark. Forget about transforming, he can't even think straight. Can't even discern which left was his right, or which right was his left. Or if anything was anything, for that matter.

Wherever his mind wanders, his pedes too follows, and against his better judgement, he finds himself stumbling onto your bed. His nose dives into the soft cushion of your pillow, satin silky, a citrus kind of cushion. He closes his optics.

It still smelled like you.

"perhaps it is time you should come to peace with it..."

Maybe, just maybe. Now?

Not yet

[iii]

"You're what?"

"Leaving." You say, a cheery disposition bounces off your tone as you're packing your things, shoving and stuffing whatever you could nab from your desk and into your bag. The leather satchel you're so fond of.

"Leaving? You're kidding me." He scoffs and bristles when you're also grabbing the snow globe from the counter. "Look at me for a second and would you put that thing down? You're seriously leaving."

The snow globe dawdles above the pouch. "Uh huh."

He reels away, mollified. "You're joking."

"Not this time I'm not."

"You too? First, Ratchet, Chromedome and now you? Did he bribe you to come along? Is this some horrible stunt you're pulling to piss me off again? If it's about the time i—"

"What? No! Just..." You look up then away. "Look, Rodimus made a good deal—"

"A lie is what it is!" He grits out, following, as you pawed around your workstation for your trinkets. Those little boxes you marked with stickers. Insides are souvenir of your travel off-world.

"—Sugarcoat, sweet, crafted lies meant to reel you along to ridiculous shenanegans. And for what? A waste of time! An officer of the law like you should know better than to trust those kinds of bots!"

You whirl to face him, clutching the duffel bag like a barrier. "And, as the officer of the law I'm obligated to aid my people into doing right."

"Your people?" He scoffs. "By joining a ship filled with, Primus knows who, on there?"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do."

As you're about to turn away he grabs your forearm, grip unrelenting. "You're making a mistake."

"What do you want me to do here?" You manage to break free, exasperated at his eagerness to coop you up in this place. " The war is done. All opposing factions already withdrew. Organics and Cybertronians are living with each other now. There's nothing to be done anymore!"

"Why does everyone say that?" He equals your look of irritation, servos gesticulating abrasively to prove his point. " No, it's. Not. Just because the war is over doesn't mean the repercussions are gone. We're living off the effects of the war. I need officers, soldiers, anyone who can listen to rebuild the structural order of society." His hand holds out, placatingly. "I need you."

"You don't."You look away. " You need someone better."

"You're better."

"Prowl, please."

"Look, I just." He looks away from a moment, chuffing out a quick vent. It's all transpiring so quickly his emotions pass through the filter in almost a sporadic breeze. "Can we talk?"

You kick the ground, not holding his gaze.

"What's there to talk about?"

The wide, spanning glass, overlooking the myriad of buildings were veiled by the darkness of space, freckled with an occasional shimmer of stars. You're looking off to the side. He's turned away, fixed on the datapad on his table. It's his list. A list of your travels.

His mouth opens. Then, it closes, uncertain. He wants to say those words. Purge them out like his spark is on its last grip. Maybe you'll stay. Maybe, you won't. It doesn't matter because, despite the strange churning in his spark, he can't find himself to do it.

"Stay." He tries for a last grip of hope. It's almost imperceptible to your ears. A daunting whisper. He doesn't bother regarding your apologetic eyes.

"I can't."

[v]

He's lying but he thinks about you a lot. He thinks about how different you are to him, an oxymoron of some sort, baring the usual 'opposites attract' kind of shtick. It was ridiculous, really.

"Who's this?" Prowl waves off the profile dismissively.

Chromedome holds it up with a raise, "New recruit from Iacon. Heard she's a heavy hitter. No, actually— I meant in Forensics. Uh, the Organic department. You know, like, ah, dog sniffers?"

Prowl does a slow one eighty turn. "....Dog sniffers?"

Silence.

"Forget it." He tosses the datapad to the desk. " Just be nice."

"I'll give you a week max before she quits."

And in typical Prowl fashion he'd already did a background check on your profile, pulling up a list of your 'miniscule' crimes, like missing the crosswalk by a second when the signal churns red, or eating in public when you're not suppose to.

Those kinds of stuff.

Chromedome stares at the datapad, scrolling down the 'list' as they trudge towards the conference room. These aren't even illegal. They're just insanely normal things to do. He's not sure how Prowl thinks they are.

"Primus, Prowl. Isn't that a bit kind of creepy?"

"You're a Mnemosurgeon, Chromedome." A mocking croon pelts back. "You go through brains. Isn't that kind of creepy?''

Like a newly wrapped gift, you turned up in front of their office, dressed in a neatly tucked police uniform, wide smile and sparkling eyes, hands primly folded behind your back. The desperate detective wannabe.

"It'll be a pleasure working with you both."

Intuitive yet naive, idealistic yet grounded. He hated that you couldn’t choose a middle ground.

"It won't be, trust me."

[iv]

Under the autumn tree, you held up one leaf to your eye as you peer over to prowl, sizing him up with child-like curiosity. He's hunched over his shoulder, grimacing at the data pad. Sometimes, he thinks if you're even capable of dropping the act.The typical junior constable, laughing under the shade. The occasional spool of light from the crevices, reflects the white of your eyes.

“You know the people that sat next to me on this bench..." You begin, pelting a rock across the river.

It skidded three times before it dawdles off.

"Are mostly held up in vases. Those customs where they put the dead's ashes in. Keep them on a table and light an incense stick to honor them."

He leans against the bench overlooking the lake. In his servos, his digits clamp around an ice cream cone, half melted. He'd spent more time scrutinizing the germs on the sludge, more than he indulged in the taste.

"Y'think you can beat that?"

His tongue shoots out warily, curling up to lap at the cream. "Beat what?"

You threw another rock. This time it doesn't skid. It just sinks, the water rippled after, breaking into a gentle wave.

"Turning up dead."

[vii]

“Wait!”

"Why are you still here?" You snap back, legs unable to upholster your balance.

He managed to grab your arms but you struggled, wrangling away from his grip.

“You don’t care about me." You laugh. A bitter one. "Wait, why should you? I thought we were friends, Prowl. Friends. friends don't do this. Friends don't disrupt the only trust you have with them!"

The sky thundered, dark clouds rolling. The gentle pitter patter of rain prickles your uniform. The cold seeps into your back. You're too messed up to care. He made you mad. Made you angry. He'd call you useless, a martyr. You’re slurring, staggering.

You’re upset.

"Is that why you wanted to leave? To see if I cared enough to ask you to stay?”

"You think I'm asking you to care? You think I wanted you to care?" You jabbed a finger to his chassis. Alcohol reeks from your breath, sweet and ozone tangy. He doesn't move, the scowl on his face undeterred. Your lips quiver, nose scrunching, eyes misty.

"You know what's funny? You always go on about this and that, paranoid about the people who'll betray you, when you're exactly the type to— actually, no the person who went behind my back and tampered with my files—"

When he opened his mouth you cut him off with venom.

"—And don't you even try to cover it up. You know what Red Alert told me this morning? That I was an anomaly! That I couldn't go in!"

"I ensured your files were of proper order. Nothing beyond that is tampered."

"Stop— when will you stop lying to me!"

Against his better judgment, his servos fisted your collar and he reeled you in, "You think I enjoy doing this?"

Before you could reply, his lips catches your own, pressing you up against the wall. The rain is pelting now, soaking you both. Your lips, mingled with the alcohol, tasted sweet. Almost, electric. He can't get enough. So soft, pliable.

You try to break away. He only deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth, suckling your own, forbidding you the chance to speak.

His digits curl into your waist, clutching the fabric, holding you close. He needed you to stay. He needed you where he could see your face. Where you're there. Somewhere, close to him. You can’t leave him.

You can’t.

“I don’t care.” He breathes against your lips, "I don't care. Not now. Not yet."

It was a blur. Before long, you find your back dipping against the cushion of your bed, servos palming your thighs, chassis against your bare chest. Uniform fumbled and peeled away to the ground.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking. Or maybe you were too tired to protest. It didn't didn't matter. His lips latched onto your neck, suckling on a light bruise as he rolled his hips, yours moving in tandem, rocking against the bed.

“Prowl—“ He kisses you again.

Don’t speak yet.

Even when you’re pulling the sheets, arching against the soft bed, whimpering, straining out every sound he wrangles out from you, he's erratic, just how he’s rutting you up against the headboard, gripping your wrist, not your hands, face pressed up against your neck

“Stay.” Is a breathless whisper against your flesh.

"I—I can't."

He pulls you into a deeper kiss before you could say anymore, transfluid unspooling, purging the bedsheets mauve.

[viii]

The next morning he’s gone.

You’re alone.

You curl into the blankets, cheek against the pillow, not sure what to think. Perhaps it's a better goodbye than whatever you had in mind. It's not like Prowl is the sentimental type.Theres a note on the floor though, but it’s crumpled, torn apart, pieces littered in a clean pile. The pen is discarded in the kitchen counter. A last reign of control.

Tiptoeing across the cold floor, you scrape it against your palm and dropped it in the bin. It was better not to pry his thoughts. But there was something there, a glimpse of the words you always wanted to see, but still. You don’t believe it.

It's better when things are left unsaid.

'yes, yes. Hello! This is Rodimus speaking! Heard your files were a bit in a pickle yesterday. No worries! I managed to convince Magnus to let you in. Apparently, the system is now of working order. Strange, huh. Should hire better engineers, am I right? Anyways, how about a tour round the ship?'

[viiii]

It’s been months.

You were tinkering in your habsuite, a screwdriver in hand, fisting the electrical cord on your lock, the mini-enabler (a made up name as per Brainstorm's insistence for it to be so) when the communicator on your table pinged. A quick glimpse of the name blared out five familiar characters : Prowl.

Prowl? Your Prowl? What's he doing at this hour? He's, like, miles away. In that space station or whatever. What could he possibly want?

You were tempted to ignore it, reminded of your last meeting with the cop-bot that's likely to grant an awkward reunion. Then, you think with a grimace. What's the point? He'll probably forget about it, avoiding his feelings like the purge of the black plague.

So, you went through and now you're both staring at each other. Expression, neutral. Not sure what to say.His military-like stance contrasted your casual one. Though, he loosed up when the scowl on your face deepened. The holographic display did an impressive job at scaling his actual height. You had to crane your neck to see the light, cyan blue fizzle of his face.

One of Brainstorm's better invention, if you must say.

He looks around, scanning the interior of your habsuite, taking note of the cluttered books on the table, the snow globe you perch on your desk beside your datapads. A complete replica of the cubicle beside his own before you left.

"You’re not..." He trails off, unsure if it's safe to proceed. "...living alone are you?”

With a you huff, you cross your arms.“If you’re here to be a piss baby about it, leave.”

He vents, "I'm not here to be a 'piss baby', I'm here to check up on you."

“Right. So, you can what? Go behind my back and do something stupid again?"

He stiffens up on the immediate defensive. "Fine. I admit it. I did that. But you have to understand—"

"Yeah, well there's nothing to!" You throw up your arms, "You think you can just, I don't know, leave me hanging by a thread then call me five months later when you feel like it? Don't you care about how I feel? Or—"

"Can you listen for a moment?"

"Oh, now you want me to listen. What else, you want me to hear you voice out your justification of being an ass?"

"I did that because I..." The hologram looks away, glitching slightly, "...Because I don't exactly trust the crew enforcing their responsibility over you."

The thrum of the generator lulls over the silence. You stare at him, exasperation fading away. He's no longer staring at your feet, directing his gaze firmly to your eyes.

"It's not that I don't trust you." He says. The hologram takes a step close. You don't turn away, basking in the attempted touch of his servo on your shoulder. It phases through your arm, anyway. Even when it's an affectionate gesture, his expression is strained.

"You've got the knack to pull yourself in unpredictable situations."

You turn away with a huff. "If this is your way of trying to butter me up it's not working."

He looks off to the side, fixed on the snow-globe. "How about a tour of your room for a change?"

You're silent for a moment. "...We can start with the trinkets. "

[viiiii]

The alarm blared before you could think.

Prowl is half-way inspecting another faulty contraption upon your urge when the room is flared in a dark, crimson red, a sporadic bursts in tandem of the swirling siren. The connection is momentarily lost and the hologram fizzles away.

"What's going on?" His voice is a warbled glitch from the datapad. The visage of prowl in his office greets you.

"...The alarm sounded." You stammer, clutching the datapad close, a desperate reign of touch for him here, "That...that doesn't happen often. Well, sometimes . I think. But that was false alarm.

"Then, stay in the room." He commanded. "I'll try to get in touch with Magnus. There's a probable breach going on."

"You think so?" You pace around, a nervous twitch of your fingers, glancing to your door. "But this is. This is different. Usually, Magnus would pinge us. Tell us the situation. Last time, with the sparkeater—"

"Sparkeater?"

"Oh, you can arrest everyone later!" You huff. "My lock's broken, Prowl, what if—"

A distant explosion sounds, rattling the ship just slightly. It's muffled. You vaguely hear the clamour of pedes running, the yelling, the clang of metal scraping — then the storm. It's footsteps. Quick, loud footsteps pattering along towards this hall. Louder and louder. Heavier and heavier. Something clenched your heart tight. Whatever's raging through the ship can't be heading this way, can't it?

Prowl seemed unnerved. "Stay where you are."

"I'll try to close the lights. Maybe it'll disguise me here."

It's proved futile as the moment you reached your door, the shadow does as well, and you're sent sprawling across the floor as your habsuite door is torn wide open. The perpetrator tosses the flimsy metal to the side.

"Oh, dear. Wrong room." The familiar drawl dances through the air.

Your head swivels up, trailing along the path of the navy blue paint scheme, to the notorious curve of a grin, then to the eyes — blood lust.

Over lord.

"My, my, my. Have I seen you before? You look quite familiar."

He starts sauntering towards you. The datapad is clutched taut against your chest. Your eyes flail around for an exit. You're crawling, backing up against your desk.

"I was hoping it was the dreadful warden. You see I've got unfinished business with the latter — but you'll do as well."

"Get out of there!"

Prowl's yell was enough to deter his focus for a moment. You lunge for the space between his legs, rolling across the ground to the other side.

"Feisty little thing!" You hear him croon.

It wasn't long before you pick up the pace and start belting. Boots pounding the metal floor. At the end of the hall, you spot two figures from your periphery : Chromedome gesturing to the trapdoor on his side. Rewind jumping to get your attention.

"Lead him here!"

You yell back. "I've got a better idea!"

"Absolutely not!"

"But he's behind me, Prowl! We can't keep him here forever! Uhnf—"

The momentum of your sprint sent you stumbling into Chromedome and the Archivist, Overlord, following along, clattering against the wall of the hull. The one meant to trap the six phaser. You feel your lungs give out, grime scraping your elbows. Prowl's visage momentarily glitches as it clatters to the ground. Chromedome managed to toss Rewind out in a fit of panic. When it's your turn to grab his servos, you realized it's a spliced out limb from the swift shutting door, energon spooling out from the chafed sockets.

Rewind's staring at the window with despair. Chromedome is slamming his fist against the window, yelling.Prowl grips the screen tight, digits denting the rims of his datapad. He's not breathing. He's lightheaded. He can't get you. You're out there. He's here. You're there. Get out. Get out. Get out!

"Prowl?" Your voice is shaky as you speak. You're hunched over the datapad on the floor. He can see the shadow looming above becoming more prominent. More darker. More daunting. Two crimson flicker for eyes.

“Stay."

Don't let go yet.

Don't let go just yet

“I can't."

#transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #idw prowl #transformers idw #prowl x reader #Overlord #idw prowl x reader #mtmte x reader #mtmte prowl

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Shifting Wings: Chapter Two

Shifting Wings: Before the Raven Matthew, there was Jessamy, and Jessamy came with a little sister by the name of Adrienne. Dream adores his two little Ravens, but after over a hundred years of imprisonment and the death of Jessamy, Dream will find that he has not just lost his companion, but his beloved little Raven Adrienne no longer brightens the halls of his Palace. None of his staff wish to speak of where the Raven has gone, but the silent new resident of the palace is cause for question. After all, she was the one who aided in his release. If none of his subjects would help him find Adrienne, perhaps she could lead him to the whereabouts of the missing Raven. If only the woman wasn’t so flighty and hard to track down.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x FemaleRaven!Reader, NAMED Reader (I like the name).

Word Count: ~2.2k

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“She’s not going to like that,” Jessamy softly spoke from where she was perched next to your sleeping body. Dream, or Lord Morpheus, as the rest of the ‘dreams’ and ‘nightmares’ with this realm called him, had brought you and her back to his elaborate palace and proceeded to explain what had happened. You and Jessamy had died in your sleep, and thus became ravens of his domain. He was an ancient and powerful being who oversaw all dreams and nightmares of humanity.

“She will have to grow used to it, because this is her life now,” Dream said, his eyes drifting to where he had placed you on a bed of blankets the palace servants had brought. Your wing was fully healed but you were still fast asleep, wings tucked firmly against your body.

“Then you don’t know my sister, she more stubborn than a rock. Worse? She’s a teenager.” Dream arched his eyebrow and looked back to the new and yet intimidating raven. Jessamy had taken to her new body quite well. “She’s going to go kicking and screaming before being told what to do.”

“And yet something tells me that you are very good at managing your sister.” Jessamy would have scowled at him if she had the facial features.

“Trying to put her in a cage will do more harm than good, she likes to wander.”

“And wander she shall,” Dream replied. “I do not seek to clip her wings.”

“Then can you ensure her protection in her wandering? Can you tell me that she will be completely safe within your realm?” Jessamy grilled the Endless. “She has a proclivity of getting herself into trouble.” Dream cocked his head to the side, examining the young raven with equal parts curiosity and intrigue.

“I might, should you be willing to do something for me in return.” Dream countered, Jessamy perked up in interest.

You felt entirely demeaned. You were almost sixteen, hardly an infant, and yet you had woken up swaddled! Swaddled as in someone had wrapped a blanket around your body, pinning your wings against your side so you couldn’t flap your wings or flop around. You were wrapped up so tight that every time you tried standing up you just flopped to the side awkwardly, still not used to your new body. So you huffed and puffed until someone had found you wriggling and writhing around, cursing beneath your breath in an effort unswaddle yourself.

The woman that had found you, Agnes, was a resident of the realm you were in and carefully unswaddled your tiny body until you were tottering around on the table, still trying to get your bearings.

“You do not appear to be used to your new body yet, young one,” Anges soothed, maintaining her distance in the event she spooked you. You lurched around on your legs, getting used to the new distribution of weight. So light.

“I’m a bird, I’m a bird, I’m a bird!” You said, each time you spoke your voice rising in pitch. “I’m not supposed to be a bird!!”

“Take a deep breath, young one, you’re not a bird, you’re a raven.” You jerked back in exclamation, your wings flaring.

“A raven is still a bird!!” You shouted at her, entirely stressed over the fact that you were stuck in the body of a bird. “How? Why!?”

“I’ll tell you,” Agnes promised before her face turned serious. “But you need to calm down and take a deep breath.” You didn’t want to, you wanted your answers, now, but Agnes reminded you of the village grannies who were more than happy to talk, as long as you shut up and listened. So you sat your derrière down, stick thin legs folded beneath you, and waited. Anges gave you a pleased look.

“All souls who pass away in their sleep, become a raven of The Dreaming, of Dream of the Endless. I’m sorry to say, young one, but you died in your sleep.” You blinked, taking in this information. What you knew last, was that your entire family was suffering from the plague that had swept through the village. You hadn’t been scared of your own death, but you were terrified of losing your family.

“So I’m stuck like this?” You asked, your voice wobbling at the idea of being a bird. “For how long?”

“Until you are killed, dear, which won’t happen if you stay within this realm.”

“I’m— I’m gonna be a bird forever!?!” You squawked, horror filling your tiny body. “But— But I haven’t even lived, how am I meant to do that when I’m stuck in this body?”

“Being a raven is no curse,” Agnes stated. “Especially a raven of Lord Morpheus.”

“I have no idea who that is,” You replied in confusion, not understanding why this ‘Morpheus’ person sounded so important, or understanding who exactly ‘Dream of the Endless’ was.

“Lord Morpheus, better known as Dream of the Endless, is one of the seven Endless personifications within our universe. They embody powerful natural forces and are by far the most powerful of beings aside from their creators, Mother Night and Father Time.”

“So, he’s kind of important?” You asked, not grasping the full gravity of who Dream of the Endless was. Agnes eyed you, then decided that it was simply something you would have to come to learn on your own.

“He’s the king of this realm and you should address him as Lord Morpheus, yes?”

“Oh, yes I can do that,” You bobbed your head, glad to have some information on this place. A king. You knew that they were powerful and commanded respect. They also could have people executed. “King, never been around one but I know they’re powerful.”

“Oh yes our king is powerful, little one,”

“My name is Adrienne,” You cut in, earning yourself a look in warning.

“And you better guard your tongue, Adrienne, if you wish to continue living with your sister within this realm.” At the mention of Jessamy, you perked up.

“Jess? Where is Jess!?” You exclaimed in excitement. If Jessamy was around you knew you’d be alright. She was the voice of reason. She was the voice that kept you stable.

“Jessamy,” Agnes spoke, eyeing you and waiting for another freakout. “Is currently speaking with Lord Morpheus at the moment. But let us not speak of them right now, child, you are still adapting to your new body, yes? Why don’t I help you find your wings?”

You looked at Anges, eyed her up and down, and sighed.

“Okay, but do you know anything about being a bird!?”

Flying was still hard for you, but you weren’t a spazzing mess any longer. You could flying around, albeit a little clumsily, but you could fly. Jessamy would be proud of you, surely. You had managed to do something yourself without her help or guidance. Granted Agnes had taught you, but you hadn’t gone crying to Jessamy because you couldn’t figure out how to fly. At the moment Agnes was walking through the halls of the palace, telling you all about your new home.

Dreams and Nightmares populated the realm, along with natural residents and the ravens. You were glad to hear that there were others you could befriend for you didn’t need to live a sheltered life any longer. You could befriend anyone you wanted, you could talk to anyone you wanted, you could see anyone you wanted. You’d never had this kind of freedom! If only death hadn’t had to be the reason for such liberty.

“Do you enjoy books, young one?” Agnes asked, noticing that you had grown quiet. You made your way over to a window sill and took a perch, wobbling as you touched down.

“I don’t know,” You admitted shyly. “I— I don’t know how to read and mamon and papa never had the time to teach me.” Agnes looked at you kindly.

“Well now, I know a certain someone who would be more than happy to fix that.” Your head cocked to the side and Agnes made a motion for you to follow her once more. “Come along, Adrienne, I think it is time for you to see our library, and it’s caretaker Lucienne.”

Agnes led you to two grand wooden doors, and the wondrous library beyond. You couldn’t hide your shock at the number of books you saw upon the shelves. One could spent an entire day counting them and still wouldn’t finish!

“How is this possible?” You asked, your mind working overboard to comprehend what you were seeing. “There’s— There’s so many! How do you afford these!?” Agnes chuckled at your reaction.

“The books in this realm appear on our shelves as their authors write them.” Agnes explained to. “We keep a record of them and the dreams of mortals, our shelves will always be expanding and I think you shall find that there is plenty to read.” You swooped down to a table and eyed a heavy leather bound book with gold lettering on the spine.

“But… I don’t know how to read.” You pointed out once again, feeling dejected that you were surrounded by all these wonderful books, but you could not enjoy them.

“Did I not say that I would fix that?” Agnes replied before looking behind you. “Greetings, Lucienne, have you met our newest raven yet?” You scuttled around to see a very refined woman looking at Agnes over her spectacles. Then her gaze dropped to you, and you shrunk back a step. It wasn’t that she scared you (she totally did) it was that she had a very stern face.

“You must be Miss Adrienne.” Lucienne spoke, her voice as regal as she looked. “Welcome to The Dreaming.”

“Oh, hello, yes, I’m Adrienne,” You quietly answered, nervously shifting on your feet once more. Agnes smiled at your willingness you smile and turned back to Lucienne.

“Adrienne here has never seen this many books before and wishes to read some of them,” Anges explained, her voice soft and gentle. “But she was never taught to read, you see. I was hoping that you might have some time to remedy that?”

Lucienne’s eyebrows rose and she looked down at you once more.

“Surrounded by all these books and you cannot read, young one?” Lucienne questioned, you shifted in place, embarrassed by your illiteracy. “We must remedy this for there is no reason why you should remain unable to.” The librarian declared.

You liked Lucienne, but she was a stern and strict teacher. That being said. Reading was very hard, even with sharp eyes. But you weren’t going to give up. Not with this many books just out of reach. Of course she started out simple, but there were so many letters on the page that you were almost overwhelmed. But Lucienne told you to focus on one word, one letter at a time.

“…. a-and she w-w-w,” You cut off with an exaggerated growl, once again getting stuck on another W. Lucienne let you huff and puff over your difficulty, you were still young, and still very short tempered at times. But you hadn’t given up despite your difficulties. If anything, you grew more determined.

“Try again, Adrienne,” Lucienne coached you, sounding out the words once more. You did, this time managing to pronounce the words clearly and without stuttering on the letters. Your chest puffed out and you hopped in place, your wings fluttering in excitement.

“I did it! I did it!” You exclaimed loudly and with the full jubilance of a child that had just discovered something incredible. Your feet tapped across the heavy wooden table, skittering around while you did a happy dance. Lucienne couldn’t help but chuckle as you did so, enjoying the spark of youth that now resided within The Dreaming.

“If you keep this up, you shall be reading books on your own in no time.” Lucienne praised you.

“Well… maybe,” You replied, your head looking down as you stretched out your wings. “But I can’t exactly get the books down from the shelves by myself, I don’t have hands anymore.” Lucienne arched a brow.

“And you expect that you shall never have help?” Lucienne countered, peering at you over her spectacles. “Adrienne, there are many dreams and nightmares that would be happy to help you within this palace, let alone the realm.”

“I don’t know any of them though,” You pointed out. “I can’t just ask a total stranger, they might want to do bad things.”

“You are not within the Waking World anymore, Adrienne,” The librarian reminded you. “No one within this realm, dream nor nightmare, will ever seek to harm you. You are a raven of Lord Morpheus, to hurt you would be a grave insult to the Lord and king of this realm.”

You went quiet for a minute, thinking over her words. Your mother and father had spent your whole life drilling into your head that to speak with strangers was not an activity you were to partake in. Especially when someone could have ulterior motives and wish you harm. But not everyone had ill intentions, you knew that from experience in your old life. There were good people all around you, even if your parents only saw the bad.

“Okay, can you tell me about them then?” You asked, looking back up at Lucienne.

“Of course,”

Date Published: 5/10/23

Last Edit: 5/10/23

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#morpheus x reader #lord morpheus #morpheus #dream the endless x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream the endless #the sandman netflix #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #the sandman

[gemstone-ruby]

Season Finale Ramblings

Oh I feel so vindicated after watching to finale of The Gilded Age! Please note I do NOT have the extra context that comes with the show's extras yet (podcasts, interview, etc.) and I have only watched season two once but I am still filled with (a little too much) giddy energy about the ending so this is going to be a wall of text be prepared...

Thoughts and spoilers after the break

Lets start with Peggy: when I tell you I let out a sigh of relief when she left that man standing in the park! Mr. Fortune is MARRIED with -insert number of kids here- one of which is a newborn. You're telling me your wife just gave birth and you're making googly eyes at the new journalist who works for you???? TRASH. Now don't get me wrong, I could write off the kiss in the barn as a heat of the moment thing for the plot or whatever, but I think KNOW I would have been really pissed off and disappointed in how they took Peggy's character if they let that storyline continue into an affair. I wish Peggy the best of luck with her author dreams now that she has her start.

Ms. Marian: Girl, I am so happy you found your voice, dusted off your spine and got out of that engagement. For season one, in my opinion, she was pining so much for her old life that it made her lie to herself. She lost everything and everyone she knew in the blink of an eye and had to immediately put on a brave face and table her grief because Agnes hated her brother. I do think she loved Mr. Raikes but I think that love was rooted in her using him as a way back to "real life" once they got married. So much so that she ignored the signs that Raikes was being seduced by high society life in New York. She really grew as a person this season but when she accepted Dashiell's proposal, I thought she was sliding back downhill into the quiet housewife everyone expects her to be. I'm glad she's finally taking life into her own hands and I'm glad Larry Russell might be getting a happy ending with her as well. We shall see...

Speaking of the Russells: A big beautiful congratulations to Mrs. Russell for winning the opera war...however...I think it might come back to bite her in the ass when Gladys, and most importantly, Mr. Russell find out she basically sold her daughter off to the duke to do so. I love Mr. and Mrs. Russell as a unit, THE power couple, but George made it clear that he doesn't give two shits about playing the grand game of society. He only plays for his wife because his family's happiness is all he wants; if Gladys is falling for another man and Bertha tries to force her into the duke's arms, the power couple is going to clash. HARD. You already saw a brief look at that potential conflict when Mr. Russell was facing charges for the train crash and all Mrs. Russell could think about was a ball. He didn't even tell her when he was going ON TRIAL ffs! Yes they were at odds when Bertha found out about Turner coming onto him but in that instance George was working for forgiveness from his wife; the train derailment had him ready to bare teeth over his wife's lack of empathy. Mr. Russell already promised his daughter he would have her back when it comes to her marriage; this is not going to resolved without at least one relationship dynamic in the Russell household changing forever...

And FINALLY SOME KARMIC JUSTICE FOR ADA!!!! Omfg this woman could not catch a break for the life of her. This wise, kind soul had to live years as a spinster and (as I'm sure she probably thinks) a leech on the fortune her sister had to marry an awful man to get. When she at last finds a good man to love and live out her golden years with he fucking gets cancer and dies almost as soon as they get married. This woman could not get more than a second of peace. But when Bannister turned to her and crowned her head of the household with one question it's like the stars aligned! You could see it in her face when she realized she was finally, not her sister's equal, but her superior by Agnes's own old world standards. And I know that Agnes loves her sister in her outdated way, but in my opinion, it was also extremely patronizing. Agnes ruled her household with an iron fist, so much so that literally every one living under her roof, from the servants to her family members, have secrets they're keeping in fear of losing their way of life by angering her. Now, dear Aunt Ada, gets to take the rinds and I can't wait. Ada is kind but not naïve, wise but not authoritarian, and she realizes that the world is changing and society along with it. Everyone in the Van Rhijn house may now have a chance at happiness their own way now that they have a mistress who has no interest in changing who they are for the sake of other people's opinions.

I want to stress that I am not bashing Agnes. At least I'm not trying to. I know her way of thinking is a product of her time mixed with the horrors and injustices she had to face to get to where she is in life. But her being stuck in survival mode has sank her ship and nearly alienated her from her own family. She should take this changing of the guard as her sign to give it a rest, to TAKE a rest. Do I think she's going to: NO. I think she's going to be a bitter pain in the ass now that she has virtually no power.

I'm going to end this by saying to look forward to seeing if and how Mrs. Astor will move forward. She does not seem to be the type of woman to fade off into the night silently in defeat. I would say she may team up with Ms. Turner/Mrs. Winterton but not only does Astor know her secret now but I think she's about two seconds from spiraling in a BAD way and losing that rich husband of hers. I mean look at the temper tantrums she threw every time she lost something to Mrs. Russell.

If they do not renew this show for another season, I will haul myself from the Brooklyn Bridge (I'm joking.....mostly )

#the gilded age #peggy scott #marian brook #the russells #bertha russell #george russell #larry russell #gladys russell #mrs astor #ada forte #agnes van rhijn #oscar van rhijn

[untoldreader]

A Chance Encounter

Summary

The reader has a chance encounter with Wanda Maximoff, who seems to hold the key to the town's secrets

Warnings

None?

Tag List

@alexawynters @tigerlillyruiz

Wanda Maximoff led me through the idyllic streets of Westview, her presence both comforting and unsettling. As we walked, the townsfolk went about their daily lives, yet their actions seemed rehearsed, as if they were part of a grand performance. It was clear that something extraordinary was at play, and Wanda held the key to unlocking the town's secrets.

We arrived at a picturesque park, where children played on swings and families gathered for picnics. Wanda found a secluded bench, and we sat down, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant laughter of the townsfolk.

"I'm sorry for the confusion you must be feeling," Wanda began, her voice tinged with a mix of sorrow and determination. "Westview is not what it seems. It's a construct, an illusion I created."

My eyes widened in disbelief. "You created all of this? But why?"

Wanda's gaze turned distant, filled with a mix of guilt and longing. "I was consumed by grief, overwhelmed by loss. After the events of the Avengers' battle against Thanos, I lost the person I loved most, Vision. I sought solace in creating a world where I could have the life I always wanted. A life with Vision by my side."

Her words resonated within me, and I couldn't help but empathize with her pain. Loss had a way of distorting our reality, driving us to desperate measures.

"But why erase everyone's memories?" I asked, trying to comprehend the full extent of Wanda's power.

"I didn't mean to," Wanda replied softly. "When I created this reality, I inadvertently trapped the people of Westview, their identities and memories intertwined with the illusion. They're living their lives within this construct, unaware of the real world outside. It wasn't my intention, but now I must find a way to set them free."

A wave of compassion washed over me as I realized the magnitude of Wanda's burden. She had unknowingly become the architect of a prison of her own making, her desire for solace leading to unintended consequences.

"I want to help," I offered, determined to assist Wanda in setting things right. "Together, we can find a way to free the people of Westview and restore their lives."

Wanda's eyes brightened with a glimmer of hope. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. "But we must be cautious. There are forces at play, entities that seek to exploit the power I've unleashed."

As we delved deeper into the mysteries of Westview, we discovered that a clandestine organization known as S.W.O.R.D. was monitoring the town, attempting to infiltrate and regain control. They saw Wanda's power as a threat and sought to neutralize her.

With each passing day, the illusion of Westview began to unravel, revealing glimpses of the real world beyond its boundaries. We encountered individuals who had somehow resisted Wanda's control, their presence hinting at a greater conspiracy at hand.

Together, Wanda and I forged a plan to confront the truth, to confront the forces that sought to exploit her power and the innocent lives caught in the crossfire. We knew the road ahead would be treacherous, but our shared determination to restore reality and right the wrongs committed pushed us forward.

We sought out Agnes, a neighbor in Westview who seemed to possess a deeper understanding of the town's secrets. She revealed herself as Agatha Harkness, a powerful witch who had been observing Wanda's actions from the shadows. Agatha had her own agenda, seeking to harness Wanda's power for her own gain.

As the layers of deception peeled away, we discovered that Wanda's powers had inadvertently tapped into a wellspring of ancient magic, drawing the attention of entities far more sinister than we had anticipated. Agatha, with her knowledge of the occult, had been drawn to Wanda's power, seeking to exploit it for her own dark purposes.

The lines between reality and illusion blurred as we delved deeper into the complex web of Westview's creation. We encountered remnants of memories, fragments of lives that had been altered, and whispers of a greater cosmic force at play. It became clear that Westview was not just a construct of Wanda's grief but a convergence of mystical energies, a nexus point where the fabric of reality was being tested.

As we faced off against Agatha and the encroaching forces that threatened to tear Westview apart, Wanda's power surged, manifesting in ways she had never imagined. She tapped into her true potential, embracing her role as the Scarlet Witch, a being of immense power and destiny.

In the climactic battle that ensued, reality itself trembled, the boundaries of Westview fracturing as the true nature of its existence was laid bare. It became a struggle not just for the freedom of the people trapped within but for the very soulof Wanda Maximoff. She grappled with the weight of her actions, the consequences of her grief-fueled choices, and the responsibility she now bore to set things right.

With the combined strength of our wills, we fought against the oppressive forces that sought to exploit Wanda's power. Agatha, realizing the magnitude of the chaos she had unleashed, joined forces with us, understanding that the preservation of reality itself was at stake.

As the battle raged on, the boundaries of Westview shattered, revealing glimpses of the outside world. S.W.O.R.D., once a relentless pursuer, now stood alongside us, recognizing the true threat that loomed. Together, we forged an alliance, united in our mission to restore order and free the innocent lives ensnared within the illusion.

In a climactic display of power, Wanda harnessed the energy of the convergence, channeling it to undo the spell she had cast. The townsfolk of Westview regained their true identities, their memories flooding back with a mix of confusion and relief. The town, once trapped in a surreal existence, was now set free.

But the consequences of Wanda's actions were not easily forgotten. The trauma inflicted upon the people of Westview left scars, both physical and emotional, that would take time to heal. Wanda, burdened by guilt, vowed to make amends, to help rebuild what she had inadvertently destroyed.

In the aftermath, Westview became a symbol of resilience and hope. The town rallied together, supporting one another as they rebuilt their lives. Wanda, with newfound purpose, sought to learn from her past mistakes, to harness her power responsibly and protect those she cared for.

As for me, my encounter with Wanda Maximoff and the enigma of Westview changed my perspective on the world. It taught me the complexities of grief, the dangers of unchecked power, and the importance of empathy in the face of adversity. I carried those lessons with me, forever altered by the experience.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The story of Westview and the Scarlet Witch would echo through the annals of history, a cautionary tale and a testament to the indomitable human spirit. And as I looked back on that chance encounter with Wanda Maximoff, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for being a witness to her transformation, her journey from grief-stricken avenger to a beacon of redemption and strength.

Is it real or more of Wanda's mind games?

#wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #wanda maximoff #The Witch & Her Possession

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

Careful Creatures

Ship(s): Hela x Agatha, Agatha x Wanda, Wanda x Hela, Hela x Agatha x Wanda

Summary: Three powerful beings broken down back to the start somehow find themselves brought together as they relearn themselves and each other

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, descriptions of being burnt, mild gore, sexual assault/non-con/rape, abuse of alcohol/alcoholism/addiction, amnesia, domestic violence, implied use of roofing drugs

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

A/N: Please READ THE WARNINGS before proceeding. If this were on AO3 it would be rate E for explicit material later on in the series, and M for mature material for the heavy content this story deals in

|| next

Chapter One

She falls in a blaze.

Green and gold and black, streaking through the heavens and flames, like some dying star in need of a desperate wish of its own.

Her skin burns and blisters and blackens, smoke filling her lungs, choking off the last vestiges of air they held.

In space, no one hears you scream.

In space, no one sees the last of a once beautiful and powerful empire crumple to nothing but debris and dust, exploding violently outwards as Ragnarok rages its final breath.

Her cheeks become adorn with the cleansing water of her own tears as she mourns, the prophecy she had been bound to at last releasing its shackles on her.

In space, no one sees her cry.

She tumbles through the darkness, with no force to counteract against her initial velocity, and she hurls through the celestial skies.

Eventually, even her godly body cannot handle the vast emptiness of space.

Her eyes slip shut, her breathing slows, and as she falls and falls and falls, she slumbers.

—»•«—

Agnes stumbles up the stairs, her feet tripping over one another as the world seems to spin.

“That you?” Her husband’s voice calls from their bedroom.

Agnes opens her mouth, the words yes, dear on the tip of her tongue, when she suddenly bolts for the bathroom.

As she's heaving her insides out, Ralph’s large hand painfully yanks her hair in a bunch away from her face.

“Get it all out now, I don't want you soiling the bed.” He snaps, impatient.

Agnes shivers as she retches. It was more than the ever-oppressing feeling that something wasn’t right that drove her to stay out drinking until the bars closed.

Eventually, she has nothing left in her stomach to vomit up, and she half collapses against the cool porcelain.

Her relief is short-lived, but she doesn't fight as Ralph manhandles her.

He is her husband. When she married him, she committed herself before the eyes of God that she would be a faithful wife.

Ralph doesn't like it when she's vocal, so she bites her tongue and lets herself get lost in the dizziness her mind is experiencing and doesn't make a noise of protest or pain as he shoves her to the floor and pulls down her pants.

This is her test to bear, for making her mistakes.

You don't deserve this.

—»•«—

Wanda awakens in a cave.

It's not the oddest place she's ever woken up, though how she's so sure of that, she can't really say.

It must be a gut feeling, she decides, as she tries to think.

She knows her name, that's good.

Her age–

She's… Twenty-six? Thirty-two? She can't recall.

That's… Not normal, right?

She places a hand on a rough wall, trying to steady herself as she walks on shaky legs.

Her name is Wanda… Wanda something. Something… Off? Romanoff? No, that's not right. Romanoff was…

Wanda grits her teeth.

She knows enough that her last name isn't Romanoff, but can't remember whose last name is.

That's extremely frustrating.

Wanda stumbles along the cave, trying to find the way out, and wishes Pietro were here.

Pietro. Her brother. Her twin brother. Her brother who–

A stream of bullets hits through her chest, and she collapses to her knees, screaming her pain.

Wanda violently shakes her head, clutching it.

“Get it together, Maximoff.” She reprimands herself, before realizing what she's said.

Maximoff.

Her name is Wanda Maximoff.

That's good. It means she isn't totally amnesic.

She goes over what she knows as she begins to feel a soft breeze against her face.

Her name is Wanda Maximoff. She had a twin brother, Pietro Maximoff, who died by being gunned down. She doesn't know exactly how old she is, but she's somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties. Her parents… She doesn't remember her parents. Possibly dead, almost certainly impossible to find or reach if they aren't. She knows– knew? Knew someone with the surname Romanoff. Someone who… She stole a jacket from? Why was she remembering this and not useful information, like how did she get here? And where is here? And are there people who will be looking for her?

Dread pools in her belly.

People looking for her feels like an ominous statement.

She misses… She misses someone. Someone special. A lover, perhaps? A spouse? A… Child? She’s old enough to have had at least one.

Wanda isn't sure.

Light begins to hurt her eyes.

She's made it to the exit of the cave!

She hobbles, running as best she can, eager, bursting out into open air and freedom and–

Oh.

Oh no.

—»•«—

She burns again, still streaking green and gold and black, but this time, through the atmosphere of a planet.

When she lands, she craters the forest floor and doesn't move.

—»•«—

“Day drinking, Agnes?” Dottie clicks her tongue from behind the brown-haired woman. “I keep telling you we have a decent AA here.”

Agnes does her best to laugh off the comment.

“Oh, you know dear, it's five o’clock somewhere!”

Dottie slides into the seat across from her.

“Look. Your neighbors, I don't know if you know them, the Johnsons, they well… Mrs. Johnson said that late one night when she was just finishing putting the baby back down after a late night bottle feed, that she saw your bedroom window was open–”

“I'm sure whatever she saw she mistaken, Dot.” Agnes smiles as charmingly as she can. “You know how those late nights are with a newborn!”

“She said that Ralph was choking you, Agnes.”

Agnes’s smile slides off her face.

“If my husband,” she stresses, “had been choking me, I would have bruises.”

Dottie’s eyes flick to Agnes’s neck, which is both bare of discoloration, and the tell-tale texture of makeup.

Agnes swings back some of the brunch mimosa in her hand, closing her eyes briefly to gain strength from it.

“Ralph is a wonderful husband. He would never hurt me.” Agnes lies through her teeth. “Is that all why you decided to pay me a social visit during some of my “me” time?”

Dottie shifts, clearly uncomfortable.

“Agnes…” She trails, trying to find the words. “If you ever did need help, Eastwood– I mean, Westview is here for you.”

Agnes turns her smile all the way up to its brightest wattage. “Will keep that in mind, toots! Thanks for stopping by brunch to talk with this ol’ gal!”

Dottie hesitates before she stands and leaves.

Agnes's wildly beating heart doesn't slow until her fifth post-Dottie mimosa has been downed.

The truth is, Ralph does have a habit of choking her… But the bruises always fade by the next afternoon, rapidly going through the stages of healing broken blood vessels startling fast.

Agnes can't recall ever having healed that way before.

No, healing meant fire and death, healing meant agony for days and weeks because she was only ever meant to hurt, not heal.

Agnes shakes her head as if trying to dislodge the sudden pressure she feels.

That's something she has noticed.

Thinking about her past causes her awful headaches and terrible migraines.

It's best to keep to the present.

Agnes smiles at the hostess as she leaves the venue, not worried about paying.

The people of Westview took care of one another.

She doesn't notice the woman with the dark hair and piercing blue eyes who stands up and leaves after her.

—»•«—

It's been two days since Wanda had started off down the rest of what looked like an intimidating mountain, headed towards what looks to be a promising sign of life in the vibrancy of green trees.

Hopefully, there will be water somewhere there.

Wanda knows she has only twenty-four more hours until her body gives out from lack of hydration.

Her heart skips a beat, and the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Hydration.

Hydra.

Hydra was… Bad.

Hydra is bad.

The word gives her a bad feeling.

She keeps on, not even pausing as the tremors grow stronger from the mountain.

The ruins that lay in pieces everywhere, even so far down from the top where it once resided, make Wanda feel awful enough that she had nearly vomited the first time stepping out into the world and seeing it.

She avoids touching any part of it as best she is able.

She can hear rocks sliding somewhere to her left.

Distant.

Her shoulders drop an inch.

She isn't in direct danger. Not yet.

—»•«—

Ralph’s at the bar.

Ralph’s at the bar and he has all his friends there and she didn't know that the bartender used to date him and–

Agnes is vocal as rough hands grasp at her, groping and tugging and searching as their owners laugh.

“Here, dear.” Ralph’s voice is cold. Mocking. “I know how much you like your alcohol. Drink up.”

She doesn't have a choice, surrounded, as he passes her a cup.

Within moments of finishing it, she knows.

There's more laughter.

“So kind of that Maximoff bitch to leave you a wife.” Someone comments.

“To Ralph, and his whore!” Someone else shouts, to resounding cheers.

Agnes wants to scream for help, but the room is spinning and her limbs won't obey her instructions and her mouth feels too heavy to move and then–

—»•«—

No.

—»•«—

The ground slopes slightly, and grass turns to dirt as Wanda follows the stream she found.

Deeper and deeper it slopes, until she's been walking for at least half an hour, and then she sees a mess of blood and green.

—»•«—

The door bursts open, crashing loudly, just as her hands find their way around the nearest man’s throat, a knee jerked violently up between his legs.

The room freezes. She smirks, throws her head back, and cackles.

#sky's fics #sky writes #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #wanda maximoff #agatha harkness #hela odinsdottir #harximoff #wagatha #wandagatha #c: agatha #c: wanda #c: hela #c: helga #c: harximoff #c: helanda #helandatha #c: helandatha #c: haw #wanda x agatha #agatha x wanda #wanda x hela #hela x wanda #agatha x hela #hela x agatha #hela x agatha x wanda

[baldursgrave69]

A Brittle Alliance

Summary: Agnes (the Dark Urge) and their companions are invited to the coronation of Baldur's Gate's first Archduke. Agnes feels a strange familiarity with the tyrant, Enver Gortash. He knows her, somehow.

Pairing: Gortash x fem!durge (named) and Astarion x fem!durge (named)

Word count: 2.3K

Tags: angst

While writing this I was listening to: Tremble for My Beloved by Collective Soul

FInd me on Ao3 here

If Agnes knew what she was walking into, maybe she would’ve asked her companions to stay behind. Agnes, Astarion, Wyll, and Karlach made their way up the stairs to the audience hall, where Lord Enver Gortash waited for them, getting ready to be sworn in as the first Archduke of Baldur’s Gate. As the group walked down the aisle towards Bane’s Chosen, Agnes felt an unfamiliar pit in her stomach. She could see the man from a distance, his silhouette illuminated from behind by large windows. He donned expensive looking black robes embroidered in gold. Something stirred in her as she laid eyes on the man, a faint memory.

A large room, full bookshelves covering the walls. A bed in the middle with satin red sheets. Enver Gortash sitting on a padded chair, running his fingers over a map of some sort, lost in thought.

“It’s him. Gortash,” Hissed Karlach, Agnes could feel the heat radiating from the tiefling beside her. “I can practically taste his blood from here.”

“Careful, Karlach - we can’t risk a confrontation here,” Agnes whispered to her companion. She felt dread in her stomach as she assessed the gravity of the situation. If Karlach lost her cool here, they’d all be pulverized by Gortash’s Steel Watch.

“We’ve got a guest, my lord.” The man next to Gortash spoke up. It was Wyll’s father, Duke Ravengard. Agnes’ tadpole resonated with the man, he was infected with a mindflayer tadpole, just as she was. He, however, had no control over himself or his actions. Wyll tensed up at the sight of his father. “Cool yourself, Karlach. We can’t let any harm come to my father.” he pleaded. Gortash turned to the group approaching, a smile creeping across his face. Agnes detected a brief waver in the man’s steely composure, which he quickly covered with an air of confidence.

“A moment please, my friends,” Gortash made his way towards Agnes and her companions, his eyes trained on Agnes. “An old acquaintance has come to pay their respects.”

“My respects?! You’re lucky I’ve agreed not to shove my boot up your-”

Gortash raised his hand to silence Karlach. “Ah, my favorite assassin,” his voice sang as he looked down at Agnes. “I’m so glad you have returned to my side.” Agnes felt a flutter in her stomach as Gortash looked at her, something about him felt familiar, his eyes, his smile. She had met this man before, maybe she even knew him well. Time felt like it stood still as she studied this man before her. She had heard his name a few times along her travels, each time it made her stomach jump. His voice had a familiar tone, it brought forth another memory.

She was sitting next to Enver Gortash in one of the meeting halls in Moonrise Towers with Ketheric Thorm and Enver Gortash, Gortash’s hand on Agnes' thigh under the table.

Agnes broke her distraction as she felt Karlach practically vibrating next to her.

“Hang on… what?! You know each other?” Karlach’s fury was interrupted by her confusion at Gortash’s familiar tone with her companion. Agnes looked over Karlach with a shrug.

“We have important matters to address. My reunion with Karlach can wait.” Agnes felt the confusion resonating from her companions standing behind her, their tadpoles reaching into her mind to assess what was going on. She tried blocking them out, fearing they would see more intimate memories of her and Bane’s Chosen.

“Talk to her, not me” Agnes growled, crossing her arms over her chest. She wanted to take his attention away from her, his intimate gaze made her feel exposed. There were so many people with their eyes on them.

“No offense to my old friend, but it’s you I have been dying to see,” Gortash moved closer to Agnes, she could feel his eyes studying her face. “I’d forgotten, your memories are quite lost,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “Orin told me she’d made a fool of you. To think you and Karlach have traveled together all this time and she had no idea you were one of my nearest and dearest.” Gortash laid a heavy gaze on Agnes, she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “How do you know me?” Agnes asked, praying the man before her would shed some light on her past. “You and I initiated this plot. We discussed in depth the failures of our predecessors and how to avoid them,” Gortash explained to Agnes that she had been an integral part of orchestrating the plan to enslave the elder brain and bring the cult of the Absolute to fruition. As Bhaal’s Chosen, she, Enver Gortash and Ketheric Thorm were to raise the cult of the Absolute and rule over the Sword Coast. They had worked together, planning to take over the city of Baldur’s Gate, first. “First we obtained the crown; then we enslaved the brain. From there, it was a small step to the most successful religious hoax ever perpetrated,” Gortash paused, his confident mask slipping for only a second. “Until Orin ruined your hard work.” Agnes could sense disgust in Gortash’s words when he mentioned her murderous sibling. “It was all going so well - until you vanished. Orin informed us that henceforth she would speak for the temple of Bhaal, and act on their behalf. She made a mess of things. Unlike you, she cannot control herself.”

“You’re mistaken if you think I can control myself,” Agnes spat, recalling the horrendous Urges she fought daily. She was struggling them down as she spoke, her knife hand aching to be used. Her head swam with images of blood and gore, the urge to plunge her knife into this man's stomach and twist making it difficult for her to concentrate. She felt Astarion stir behind her, stepping closer and placing a hand on her hip. He always knew when the Urge was welling inside. She stiffened at his touch, it felt wrong in Gortash’s presence, moving slightly away from him and towards Gortash. “Have you gone soft? I find that hard to believe. One’s true nature always rises to the top,” Gortash cocked his head to the side, looking at Agnes as if trying to identify what has changed about her since he last saw her. “Now you’ve returned,” he continued, “We can achieve all of our dreams still.”

“What kind of partnership do you have in mind?” Agnes was curious. This man knew so much about her. She was sure he could tell her everything. Agnes could feel the tension from her companions beside her. Her head squirmed with worry as her friends tried to reach into her mind with their tadpole, trying to assess her plan. Agnes blocked them out, trying to focus on what Gortash was telling her. Trying to remember him. “There is an old wisdom: a brittle alliance can never be mended - it can only break. With Ketheric gone, Orin proves treacherous. She wants the netherstones for herself,” He held up his hand to show her the purple stone affixed to a golden gauntlet, the sibling to the one Agnes carried in her pack. The one she had sliced from Ketheric Thorm’s body. “She only cares for blood. And your blood and mine are of particular interest to her.” Gortash continued, gesturing towards his former ally. “I’m not afraid of her,” Agnes retorted. Gortash smirked at the bhaalspawn, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Orin changes shape faster than you and I change clothes. If Orin obtains all three netherstones, she’ll plunge the Coast into chaos and paint the city in blood. I want to lead this city to glory - not scorch its earth,” Gortash moved a bit closer to Agnes, she could smell a hint of vanilla and rosewood. Why was his scent familiar? “So I turn to you, the former ruler of the cult of Bhaal.”

“You show proper respect. Good.” Agnes said the words without thinking. Something about what he said made her feel good. To hear herself referred to with that kind of title made the Urges hungrier. Imagine the destruction she could cause if she regained control of the cult of Bhaal. “Let’s make our pact anew. I do no harm to you, nor you to me. You keep Thorm’s stone, slay Orin, and bring them both here to be united with their sibling once again. Together we rule Faerun as kings. No, more than kings - gods. We rule as the Absolute,” Agnes can feel the Urge inside her respond to his words. The chaos she could cause, the blood she could let while ruling the Sword Coast. Agnes pushed down the Urge, attempting to focus on the situation at hand. “What do you say? Shall we be allies?” Agnes studied Gortash’s face, his expression had softened. The way he looked at her almost made her blush.

“Orin betrayed me, and you did nothing to help me then. What’s changed?” Agnes asked the man in front of her. She could feel his dread at her question as he considered his answer. “We would not meddle in each other's affairs, this was our agreement. She came to us as Bhaal’s chosen, I had no choice.” His tone was heavy, apologetic even. “I tolerated Orin, but I liked you.” His words widened the pit in her stomach. The way he emphasized his words, the way his eyes almost pleaded with her. She tried assessing his posture, was he being honest with her? Or was he toying with her, knowing that she had lost her memories from before the nautiloid. Something told Agnes that she could trust him. He intended on allying with her, for them to rule, together. Her head began to spin as she weighed her options. Could she afford to turn down a powerful ally like Gortash? He knew her, intimately. Maybe she could ask him about herself, about her life. Agnes spoke before even considering any alternatives.

“Alright, let’s be allies,” Agnes agreed. She could feel the anger and hurt in Karlach as she agreed to ally with her friend's betrayer. Wyll and Astarion looked at each other in confusion. Astarion studied his partner, trying to figure out her true intentions. He could feel the tension between Agnes and the man from her past, and it made him feel angry. This Gortash was gazing on Agnes with a particular look, familiarity and care. These two knew each other more than just partners in an evil plot. Astarion placed his hand on the dagger attached to his side. He wanted nothing but to twist his knife into this slimy man in front of all of these people. He felt a hand on his shoulder, looking over to see Wyll shaking his head. Astarion let out a quick breath, removing his hand from his weapon. There would come a better time for him to gut this man like a fish.

“Then let it be writ by the Black Hand of Bane. I, Lord Enver Gortash, swear I shall do you no harm. We will rise together over Toril as a roaring sun,” Agnes took a deep breath as she tried to keep her head from spinning. This was a bad idea, she could tell. But something in her told her she needed to get on this man’s good side. She needed to speak with him.

“This isn’t going to end well. Mark my words.” Karlach hissed, the flames at her fingertips growing larger with fury.

“How am I supposed to defeat Orin if she can change her form so easily?” Agnes asked in frustration, hoping her new ally at least had some insight to her sister's ways.

“Even horror has a home. Find her nest and slay her there. The Bhaal Temple, your old haunt. It now reeks of her ichors,” Gortash stated, disgusted lacing his words “Hm. Do you even remember how to find it?” He asked Agnes, gazing upon her.

“Perhaps,” she muttered, setting her hands on her hips.

“It’s a secret even to me. From what I remember you’re resourceful, I’m sure you’ll sniff it out. If the trail goes cold, follow the bodies.” Agnes took a moment to breathe, this was all happening so fast. “I should go.” She resigned, beginning to turn on her heel. Gortash reached for Agnes, gently grabbing her shoulder. He immediately removed his hand from her. Agnes froze, the brief touch felt almost electric.

“Before you do, come witness as I make history as the first Archduke of Baldur’s Gate,” he continued, his confident demeanor returning. “Fine,” she mumbled, straightening her collar and turning back to face the man. Agnes and her companions watched as an enthralled Duke Ravengard named Lord Enver Gortash as the new Archduke of Baldur’s Gate. Agnes knew this was wrong, but she felt an odd sense of pride watching the man she apparently knew carry out his plan. Their plan.

“He looks the exact same as he did ten years ago,” Karlach huffed. “Fancier coat, I suppose. The Archduke of Baldur’s Gate, what a sham,” Karlach grabbed Agnes’ shoulder, looking her dead in the eyes. “You don’t really intend to be his ally, do you?”. Agnes felt the hurt Karlach was feeling, the anger. She understood it. Gortash had sold her to the Archdevil of Avernus, Zariel. A lump of infernal metal was now where her heart used to be thanks to him. She mulled over in her head what the right answer to Karlach’s question was. Agnes didn’t think she intended on really allying with Gortash. That would be wrong, right? But maybe he could tell her who she was. Enlighten her on her past, on herself.

“No. But he doesn’t need to know that.” Agnes replied, trying to reassure her friend.

“Fair enough. Now that he’s within reach, I don’t intend on letting him slip away.” Karlach’s tense shoulders relaxed with Agnes’ answer. Agnes glanced over to Astarion, his expression stern, eyes fixed on her. Furrowing his brow, Astarion mulled over what had just happened. He didn’t like the way Gortash eyed Agnes. His gaze was entirely too familiar, too intimate. Agnes averted her eyes, looking down at the ground.

Suddenly, Agnes was overwhelmed by another memory. Enver Gortash was standing over her, a sick smile on his face as he drove a dagger into her chest.

#bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fic #bg3 angst #enver gortash x dark urge #gortash x dark urge #gortash x durge #durge x gortash #durge x astarion #the dark urge x astarion #the dark urge #the dark urge bg3 #the dark urge oc #the dark urge posting #durge bg3 #bg3 durge #durge #durgetash #durgestarion #bg3 posting #baldurs gate posting

[thesherrinfordfacility]

so i saw this post and the reply underneath it

and what if ... god was turned mortal and born as ... agnes nutter ...

oh i love-loved that art, i know it was meant to be based on the moon meme but it's so good!!!✨ but let's get into a little bit of speculation, eh? now's a good a time as any!!!

hmm, came to earth as agnes nutter? it's an interesting thought and would be really cool, but im not entirely convinced. but agnes was absolutely meant to be a personification of god, i think that's without doubt.

but i think there might be some kind of clue as to what happened - and will happen - to god in agnes' brief but important narrative. if we take her story as a hypothetical direct parallel to god, agnes ended up being hunted down and burned on a pyre as a witch, but then did an ol' bait and switch and blew everyone and herself up (bitch behaviour, gorgeous, stunning).

but what if this is similar to what happened to god?

we know that the last canonical time her voice appears is speaking to job, when she starts challenging him on asking her questions. to me, she's essentially saying that he has no right to do so, which echoes the same kind of rhetoric that is implied by the fall. aziraphale and crowley can't seem to hear what she is saying - her voice from their perspective is muffled - and i know others have remarked that her voice sounds manufactured (like, in the narrative itself). also in job, there is a key lighting difference - heaven is swathed in golden heavenly light, compared to the stark white it is now.

however, despite the voice being fake school of thought, im inclined to believe that she is actually present. this, to me, is supported by aziraphale's dynamic in heaven; gabriel and michael obviously have the wrong end of the stick where concerns job's fate, that much is true, but i do think the general vibe is that they are a touch more collaborative with him than in s1, where it felt much more cold, and laden with subtle but aggressive superiority:

essentially, it feels more here that they are indeed following god (obviously still immoral in doing so, but they seem so much more innocent and almost teamlike?). im possibly projecting and misinterpreting here, but i do think nonetheless there is a big difference between the character behaviour of the angels between job and 2019.

now there was this brilliant meta put forward by @amuseoffyre✨ that looked at gabriel's weird iterations when he 'remembers', and how it overlaps with what sounds like god's voice. it frankly hasn't left my brain since, because to my mind, the book of life might come into this. the theme of memory being lost, but also possibly memory being scattered, is very prevalent in s2. my thoughts on the book of life are that it essentially doesn't necessarily erase life/existence, but in the context of angels specifically erases the essence of their divinity (ie. falling) - which maybe to angels is the same as losing who they are, and by extension parts of their memory.

so what if god was written into the book of life? well im not 100% convinced that it's as simple as that - it's GO after all, it never is that simple. in any case, for what purpose she might have been written in (other than metatron essentially being machiavellian by nature but that's by the by) is similarly uncertain; i could imagine a good ol' fashioned power struggle possibly has a hand in it somewhere. but again, this just doesn't seem to be quite right.

for this next bit, where i think possibly god might have gone/done, im going to refer to nietzsche and his famous statement, "god remains dead, and we have killed him." to me, this doesn't mean that god never existed or a lack of belief in god is now absolute, but instead that other belief systems potentially will replace, and have replaced, god. now, that could be belief in science, or other theology and philosophy, or just plain belief in oneself. and the prospect is dangerous, as nietzsche also elaborates, because it's irreversible, and there will always exist the need to replace it with something in order to avoid complete nihilistic belief.

so going off of this, if god is no longer untouchable - unquestionable - where does that leave us? well, it leaves us like job; being put through trials and horrors that are being challenged for their necessity and the morality in exacting them. it starts us on the same journey as aziraphale - does god truly intend this to happen? if so, why would she? is this a system - a god - i want to trust and believe in anymore? (coincidentally, crowley on the whole, and particularly at start of s2, appears to have gone straight to the nihilistic end of the spectrum following the fall, and through his development since the fall is instead slowly working his way backwards to finding faith in something again, and meet aziraphale in the metaphorical middle).

but back to the story, and agnes: i think the above is going to be posed in s3, and would tie in narratively with what i anticipate will be a recounting of the fall. that collectively - same as the witchfinders and the village did to agnes - humanity and heaven and hell may start to question the power behind god, and whether god herself can be challenged in her plan, the morality and ethics of it, and what it means for true free will. the only issue is, i think, is that in god possibly having retreated after job, because that's when that line of questioning kind of started amongst her people and amongst her angels, metatron has rushed to fill the vacuum and pretends that he is still acting in her name.

the conclusion i come to after all this ridiculous rambling is this: i think that god did intend to step back from heaven, but didn't leave anything to fill the void - hence the absolute chaos that has ensued since. i think she has surrendered herself over to the allegorical pyre, seen it coming and has accepted that her death - the loss of blind faith in her - is needed for humanity to progress.

maybe the last thing she'll do is a bait and switch; who that metaphorical mix of gunpowder and roofing nails will hit, and why, i don't know...

or maybe it won't happen at all, and this is where the parallel diverges from agnes' story? actually reaching a peaceful and acceptable ending, where free will will actually flourish and determinism borne of her omniscience will dwindle into nothing?

if you or anyone made it to this point, well-bloody-done because that was A Lot!!!✨

#good omens #god i really do chat some shit dont i #god is dead theory... maybe??? #its all just good soup 🍲🍲🍲 #ask