#i say this not having absorbed much psychological horror but it still seems like a copout

[heavenlylie]

shadows of comfort

pairing: jenna ortega x fem!reader

summary: jenna decides to have a horror movie night date, having to comfort you afterwards.

warnings: none, just comfort and fluffss

word count: 1.8k

a/n: where did all of the jenna fics go? also just had to mention my fav movie of all times: parent trap <3

One chilly autumn evening, with leaves rustling outside the window and the scent of pumpkin spice in the air, Jenna had decided to have a cozy movie night at her place. She insisted on watching a horror movie, knowing that as much as you weren’t a fan, you'd watch it with her, just not at night because you'd always have nightmares afterwards.

"Why can't we just watch a rom-com? This is stupid, we don't need to watch a horror movie just because Halloween is right around the corner." You said sighing as you leaned on the kitchen counter while your girlfriend smirked and turned her back to you, focusing on making the popcorn.

"It's not even that scary, besides, The Babadook is a great movie I'm sure you'll like it babe." She said shrugging.

"Of course you'd say that, you love horror movies." You said rolling your eyes and opening the fridge, looking for something to drink. Jenna knew you'd be scared, she had watched the movie before and it was just the perfect opportunity to get you in the mood for Halloween.

Despite your reluctance, you agreed, settling in on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in your lap. Jenna had transformed the living room into a cozy den of warmth, with soft blankets strewn across the couch and cushions inviting you to sink in, knowing that the cozy atmosphere would be welcome, especially when watching a horror movie.

"I still think we should watch something else, Parent Trap is a good movie, the rain outside and the coziness would make everything just perfect." You said, leaning your head on her shoulder as a last plea for her to change her mind, you knew she wouldn’t, but it didn’t hurt to try. She chuckled and pecked your lips.

"It's not that scary, you'll be fine." She was starting to get annoyed at your requests, you had already agreed, so why back up now? You had googled the movie when she was making the popcorn and to say you weren’t very fond of what you saw was an understatement.

You sighed, giving up. She was a huge fan of horror and was always looking for job opportunities in that area and honestly, that was one of the things you loved so much about her — the way she absolutely loved what she did even more behind the cameras.

The lights were dimmed just right, casting a warm glow that contrasted with the eerie atmosphere of the movie that you were about to watch. As you settled in, sharing a bowl of popcorn between the brunette and you. The movie started innocently enough, with scenes of idyllic landscapes and seemingly normal characters going about their lives.

Yet, you both knew that beneath this façade, a lurking dread awaited. As the minutes ticked by, the tension grew palpable. Scenes of eerie whispers in the darkness, creaking floorboards in the house, and unsettling shadows moving just beyond the characters' vision filled the screen.

With every jump scare and spine-tingling twist, you felt your heart racing faster, your breath catching in your throat. You tried to hide your unease, laughing nervously and making quips to break the tension, stealing glances at Jenna who seemed to be just as absorbed in the film.

The movie was a classic psychological horror, with creepy scenes and jump scares that made you jump out of your skin. Jenna, on the other hand, was completely unfazed, her eyes glued to the screen as the Babadook opened the kid's closet. Her calm demeanor was a lifeline, grounding you as the horror on screen escalated.

The plot grew more intricate, the paranormal occurrences more sinister. It was a relentless assault on your senses, and you found yourself gripping the edge of the couch, your knuckles turning white. "It's okay, don't be such a baby it's just a movie." She whispered in your ear, causing you to jump slightly.

"Fuck you, why didn’t you just say that out loud, why whisper in my ear when we're watching a horror movie?!" You said looking at her with wide eyes, a bit frustrated with her attempt to scare you even more.

Jenna just laughed at your reaction and went back to eating the popcorn and watching the movie like she was watching a Discovery Animal Planet documentary. She spent the rest of the movie ignoring your attempts to cuddle into her for comfort, only keeping her hand on your thigh and dismissing you when you tried talking to her.

The movie finally reached its climactic twist, leaving you in a state of breathless anticipation as the credits began to roll. The room was silent for a moment, "Well, that was… interesting," Jenna said, you wanted to reply but you were mad at her, maybe her joke went too far or maybe the movie just really scared you.

Either way, when you tried to speak your voice betrayed a hint of nervousness. "It's a good movie, but I'm not watching it again." You say and get up from the couch, walking towards her bedroom.

Jenna turned toward you, her gaze soft "No, come back here," she whined and sighed once she saw you ignored her request, wondering if her attempt to scare you throughout the movie was a little bit too much.

She got up and went to her bedroom after you, finding you in your pajamas and in bed curled up "Did the movie actually scare you?" she asked in a soft tone.

You looked up at her, rolling your eyes "Why did you keep dismissing me when I got scared?" she sighed and massaged her temple.

"I was just trying to scare you a little bit, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad, I genuinely didn’t mean to make you upset, baby." She said truthfully her gaze softened more.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked away, responding with a mumbled "You're an idiot," Jenna chuckled, it wasn't the first time she had annoyed you with her antics, but you loved her all the same.

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot." she said kissing your forehead and going back to the living room to collect the leftovers of the popcorn you had left and throwing it in the trash.

You sat up looking at her when she came back to the room, you knew she didn’t mean to make you upset and that she was only trying to get you to enjoy the movie as she does. "I'm not mad, I'm just scared. What if this Babadook thing comes after me when I'm asleep? He feeds off people’s dream and shit right?"

You knew that was completely irrational but you couldn’t help but feel a shiver down your spine thinking of the creature wandering in the shadows. Jenna chuckled, trying to shake off the lingering tension. "I'm not gonna be able to go to sleep Jen, I'm serious."

You say sighing and moving under the duvet again, she smiled at your reaction. Her smile was warm and reassuring, her eyes full of empathy. "You know what, same here. Those horror movies always leave a lasting impression, right?"

You knew the movie didn’t scare her and she was just trying make you feel comforted. As Jenna prepared to head to bed, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in your heart. Every shadow seemed to take on a life of its own, dancing menacingly in the corners of the room, and the faintest creak of the floorboards outside sounded like the footsteps of unseen specters.

Jenna must have noticed your discomfort because she paused before laying down. "Do you want me to hold you?" She whispered, her offer was like a blessing, a source of comfort that you desperately needed.

With a grateful smile, you nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. She settled into bed, the room bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Jenna's presence beside you was reassuring, and as you lay there, side by side, her warmth seeped into your senses, easing the lingering unease.

Jenna pulled you into a gentle embrace, her arms wrapping around you protectively. "Don't worry, I'm here with you. Nothing's going to get us tonight, or ever." You nestled into her embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your back.

The scent of her hair and the gentle rise and fall of her chest were like soothing lullabies, gradually lulling you into a state of calm. Her words echoed in your head, and you tried to focus on them as you slowly drifted off to sleep. "I'm here with you."

As you felt the silent darkness envelop you, you thought of the words that Jenna had said to you before, her promise that nothing would hurt you that night, you couldn’t help but feel that her words had a double meaning. Through the hazy fog of your dreams, figures began to materialize, their faces masked by shifting shadows that seemed to wrap around them like tendrils of smoke.

Their clammy skin seemed to ooze darkness like ink, and you could feel their icy stares upon you, watching silently as your dreams slipped through your fingers like sand. You were running, fleeing from your pursuers. Your bare feet pitter-pattered furiously on the white linoleum floor as your shadowy foes loomed in the hallway.

A feeling of dread firmly rooted in your chest as you desperately clawed at the wall. You woke up, scared and confused, Jenna quickly woke up due to your movements, she sighed and tightened her arms around your waist. "It's okay, it was a dream." She whispered hoping to lull you back to sleep.

"I'm scared, stay up with me." You whispered tugging on her arm, she opened her eyes and looked at you softly.

"Shh, it's okay. Come here," and she pulled you towards her and you ended up pressing your face against her chest.

The feeling of her heartbeat, inhaling her scent, you were feeling more and more relaxed by the second and. You felt her lips on your forehead, kissing you softly "I love you." You mumbled under your breath.

As the night wore on, your whispered conversations ranged from light-hearted anecdotes to deeper reflections. Jenna's soothing words acted like a balm, gradually replacing the horrors of the movie with a sense of security and tranquility.

Eventually, the weariness of the day and the comfort of Jenna's presence combined to overcome the lingering fear. Your eyelids grew heavy, and the last thing you remembered before drifting off was the sensation of her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm. In the darkness, Jenna's presence remained a steadfast anchor, a reminder that even in the face of fear, you could find solace in each other's arms.

As the night whispered on, her comforting embrace and the knowledge that you were there for each other allowed you to finally find the sleep that had been eluding you since the haunting images of the movie had begun to play.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna x reader

[mewpangxin]

♥️The Queen Of Hearts♥️

TW: Yandere, Manipulation, Graphics Of Violence, Deaths mentioned, Adult themes maybe?, Toxic relationship, Victim Blaming, Psychological horror, etc.

Note: I'd like to say that my Mc is not cheerful, there's a hint of them being bullied in this.

(It's probably obvious TT that English is my second language, hopefully my grammar is okay!)

“Are you ready to begin, my darling?”

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—ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A CURIOUS LITTLE THING, sometimes bolder than normal.

You were admired in a universe which titles 'Wonderland' and met many strange customs in it.

How astonishing to be exploring and talking in fantastical stories! That was until you caught the attention of the monarch himself.

He finds your existence.. peculiar.

“Oh, and who is this lost dear?” His tone has no bite as his gray eyes dilated innocently at you.

Surprisingly, he didn't berate you when you came out mysteriously by an opening portal created by someone's power at his tea parties and being the oh pure soul you were, you asked him upfront whether he would be okay if you’d like to be friends with him. How (ignorant) brave of you.

“Your majesty, forgive them! They didn't know any better about their etiquette and manners!” The advisor of the queen with a clover mark stated.

“Trey, don't. We should hear.. how our queen is going to handle this.” The orange head muttered, his expression was unreadable.

“..That moron is a goner. Sheesh.” The red haired boy chimed in with sympathy.

“They're not dying! Don't be weird, Ace!” His partner who was serving drinks nagged at him.

“The heck are you on, Deuce?!”

“Eh....??” Your lips thinned with anxiety.

Everyone stopped what they were doing almost comically as they prayed at the demise of yours.

What they didn't expect was that a vehement burst of giggles escaped their leader himself.

The attractive royal laughed so much!

That he forgot to compose himself!

His subjects were combusting in the background and the wine-haired male regained his senses.

“Are you bothered by this?” You inquired. A rush of memory from reality washed over to you. What if he despises you? What if he thinks you're a freak?

His brow raised as if scanning your horror.

“How terrible of me. As its ruler, I must apologize for a moment. I am Riddle Rosehearts, a queen of this land you stand. What about you, visitor?”

“Erm.. I can't say, uhh you can call me however you wish, sir..” You bowed with a grin, still waiting for his response. Unlike other 'Alices' he knew, you took your time to remember *ahem* his rules.

You both hit it off and exchanged whimsical ideas on hobbies, traditions and silly stuff that you can chat with. You became enthusiastic when you informed him about your goals, your parents and adventures that you'd often go to. He seemed peaceful and even gave you his tarts too!

“Of course, history from your country is baffling. Then again, our state isn't the same, is it?”

“Mmh, ah, your majesty! Can you teach me how I must conduct my speech in your presence? Are there any books you would recommend to me? I'm a slow learner! I don't want to be rude to you. You have been hospitable. I should repay you.”

“It appears you have problems at your school? Is it affecting your performance during classes?”

Riddle's words may be sweet like sugar and cakes but his intentions weren't out of generosity.

In it there hides a tension that you weren't able to decipher as you nodded obediently, too absorbed with your conversation to comment on his overly protective behavior about your life.

“I just feel like I don't belong there, can't I be with you for an eternity? I could work for you!” It was lighthearted and you were jesting to him.

Riddle distastefully clicked his tongue.

“You dared to farce around with ME.....?!”

You don't mean a word you apprised!

“Your majesty? What.. are you..?”

“Rule 154 # Of The Queen Of Hearts: One must not cancel a request from her majesty.”

“What?! Hold on.. I didn't agree to anything-”

“Or are you deaf in what I'm saying? I'm The Queen Of Hearts and I hereby announce that you will be my-bride-to-be! My words are law!” You weren't that stupid, putting two and two together.

“How..! That's a dictatorship!” Your mouth moved.

“When have I said I was a nice queen?”

His smirk was frigid and it looked more noxious than previous rounds he sent. “I have the impression that you promised to be with me by your own free will. You are not going back on that one pact you spoke of, are you, my crown?”

“Listen! Please, please..! I can't marry you, your majesty! I.. I can't be! That is..” Insane.

“You should beg more then.” He scoffed. No longer upholding his kind image that he feigned.

“That's..! No.. no..! Surely, you're joking!!”

“You can't leave, not unless you can kill me. You don't have the legendary sword either, do you?”

He had eradicated White Queen's goons already.

“The blade that is for slaying Jabberwocky?” Mad Hatter had explained to you of its origins.

“You don't need it.” Riddle remarked venomously.

“You destroyed it....?” You wondered.

That damned weapon he had placed a curse on it with ancient spells that only he can revert.

And? What if you're a destined hero? He will ABSOLUTELY have his happily ever after!

“I could never hurt anyone for..” Your shoulders sagged as your inner panic grew by seconds.

Riddle's expression was cruel as he analyzed.

“Our tale fancies you a lot. Alas —what can it do if you are tender-hearted with your enemies?”

“T-There are other ways to go back to my world!”

And you were correct on that. Riddle remained stoic as he took a sip of his herbal tea tardily.

He brought his cup of liquid onto his saucer.

“Yes. That is if you're competent for it.” He sighed as he finished his sentences. “So? Are you going to challenge me into a duel? A game? Which is it?”

“A duel? A game? With.. you who is a wizard?” He deliberately chose his lines to rile you up.

You weren't going to win if you were hasty.

“I'm not a savage. I allow you to take options. And you did nothing. Can you blame me?”

You would be ethereal if you were to sit on the throne with him. And it was a good opportunity that you were simply gullible. If you were smart, he'd have to break you than what he wanted.

“You..!”

A single drop of tear slid from your hazy eyes.

“I thought.. I thought we were confidants!”

“Throwing tantrums won't make me negate my resolve. It's your fault for being this credulous.”

“Fine.. I'll do it. Let's fight. I'll pick what we WILL do next, you can't cheat or turn to your allies! Most importantly, you can't use magic at all.” You have to set a covenant up, or else he could be sneaky.

“Alright, I will not do that.”

He wasn't a scummy type of man anyway.

“You promise on the sun above us?” You said.

“Yes, I do. If I cannot be faithful, I'll let you have a clue or a hint to help you back to your family.”

“Are you lulling me into false securities?”

“What are you ascribing of me?”

“So you are not?”

“You're getting off track. Shall we start?”

It was quite hilarious that you think you can weasel out of his grasp. You weren't great at these things. It was inevitable for you to end up embarrassing yourself when he's done with you. Should he kiss you? Dress you in a wedding gown? Ah, he's going to prolong your downfall, your face would be adorable to inspect when you realized you could not beat him no matter how hard you initiated.

“I hope you're not a liar, your majesty.” You said vigorously as you eyed him with skepticism.

“If you can defeat me in our bet, I'll tell you the answer you'd be glad to get. However should you fail to do this, you'll become my King Of Hearts as per our unanimity. Do you understand me, Alice?”

Your blood veins turn icy as his threat hangs.

Losing your role will mark your doom.

If you became his significant other..

You will get stuck here!

“You're.. crazy!!” You inhaled a shaky breath.

“That's excursive. Have you decided yet? What will you choose? Croquet? Hide and seek? Whatever you're confident in, I'll approve you a chance.”

❝ Now speak to us your verdict. ❞ 

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You should have seen the warning signs because ol' sweetheart, he's not going to let you run!

He's dead set on having you as his spouse in his kingdom. My, you think he's a rational companion, isn't it? You really are pitiful aren't you, our reader?

Never trust what strangers say!

Especially if it's from The Queen Of Hearts!

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Inspired from damnation twst au by @shiny-jr

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twst x reader #tw: yandere #fanfic #disney twst #twst x reader #Queen of hearts! Riddle #Alice! Reader #gender neutral reader #twst riddle x reader #twst x you #riddle x reader #yandere twst #twst fanfiction #yandere twisted wonderland #twst riddle #twst #x reader #fairytale twst au #I can't reply to comments for some reason since this is my side blog #Have fun reading though guys🌹✨ #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts x reader #yandere twst x reader

[imnothinginparticular]

#finishedbooks Fields of Force by George Steiner. Got this from @ei who surprised me with it and is fairly better at chess than he is at darts. The book is a chronicle of the classic Fischer/ Spassky world championship in Reykjavik. It was written in a way that is neither a complete chess algebraic breakdown of the games or a mere biography but in a contextual manner that does a bit of everything. He states you don't have to be a chess player but you kind of actually do to really get it. Immediately my complaint would be that the book is in the old chess notation that I don't get as fast as the modern one that I learned during the start of the pandemic. With that he goes through the history of the game covering all the classical players till Fischer from Morphy to Nimitz and the hypermodernists through to Tal. Through it you get the gist of how sharp the game has become (to that point) which I say as this was still way before computer analytics that has really changed the game completely. The analytical aspects of chess, the memory content required for theoretical mastery has expanded so much even since then. For strictly annotation, the older games are much more fun to play through...like give me a classic Capablanca game for the beauty and drama over Magnus anyday...just know that if you neglect today's game you won't advance. With that book is ultimately about Fischer. From his manias to his relative illiteracy and emotional immaturity outside of the game of chess. If one knows anything at all about chess I am sure it is these aspects and this match as it captured the world's attention and there was a recent meh Toby Macquire film about it. The documentary "Fischer vs. the World" is totally worth it though. For analysis classics like Lasker-Capablanca or Capblanca-Alekhine are much more consistent solid games with over the board drama....that is what is actually suppose to be about. I even find the Tal traps much more exciting as well...it is just the enigma and psychological ruthlessness that Fischer exercised over his opponents that made him. The author points out a rather lengthy quote relating to this from Nabokov and his book 'The Defense' about a chess player who goes crazy...as Morphy and Fischer did. "Preparing an attack for which it was first necessary to explore a maze of variations, where his every step aroused a perilous echo, began a long meditation. He needed, it seemed, to make one last prodigious effort and he would find the secret move leading to victory. Suddenly something occurred outside his being- a scorching pain- and he let out a loud cry, shaking his hand, stung by the flame of a match, which he had lit and forgotten to apply his cigarette. The pain immediately passed, but in the fiery gap he had seen something unbearably awesome- the full horror of the abysmal depths of chess. He glanced at the chess board, and his brain wilted from unprecedented weariness. But the chessmen were pitiless; they held and absorbed him. There was a horror in this, but in this also was the sole harmony, for what else exists in the world besides chess?"

#finishedbooks

[espisayer]

Heads up for unfinished thoughts about this... But if you’re reading/watching/absorbing something in the realm of psychological horror/fuckery, is it worse to have an ending that explains nothing or an ending that goes “oh it was all a dream... but wait maybe it wasn’t” ?

asking for a friend

#.txt #of course ''it was all a dream'' by itself is peak garbage #i say this not having absorbed much psychological horror but it still seems like a copout #obviously depending on the story you can have more context than that #or something more direct i.e. i read an unfinished (yugioh) fic that seemed to loosely blame the cube from DSOD on the ensuring horror #but that's also inspired by silent hill and i don't know much about silent hill #wow rambling #again unfinished thoughts but

[sqream-queen]

Can i request some headcanons about Michael Morbius, please?

Ooh thanks for letting me do whatever with this!

Dr. Michael Morbius General Headcanons.

Michael likes old music, he can't get into the new stuff too much nor does he have the time to.

I'd say he leans towards classical music and opera but also enjoys classic rock and even soul music.

He enjoys a good book and actually likes fiction a lot, he got enough nonfiction and still does due to his job as a doctor.

It's a good escape for him and relaxes him. His line of work- hell even his life can get very stressful. Michael would like nothing more than to sit down, put on a soothing record, and get absorbed into a fantasy world of some kind- maybe even a romance.

He absolutely hates the cold, for many reasons. When his body was ill and aching the cold made it all the more worse. Now it's just a reminder of what he has become- a cold blood thirsty monster. It's all he feels most of the time anymore.

Morbius rather enjoys children- they're endearing to him and he likes this honesty they hold that most people lose when they grow up.

It always broke his heart when a child passed- seeing their parents crumble and sob. It made him want to be better and do better as a doctor and person.

Michael may seem calm, collected, and witty on most occasions but he's actually a rather shy person. He's learned to overcome his anxieties better over the years but he'll always be a bit aloof.

Morbius thinks horror films are rather silly and unpleasant. He sees plenty of real blood and gore in his real life, why would he want to watch dramatized and unrealistic gore on film?

He doesn't mind the occasional psychological thriller though, something to stimulate his mind and keep him on his toes.

The man is a bit of an old soul and can't get too into the idea of social media. He'd rather avoid putting himself out there as much as possible, actually. Even if he weren't a blood sucking monster it's just not something that'd interest him too much.

Fluffy sweaters. This man adores wearing fluffy sweaters. Soft and warm? Yes please! Though he'd never really admit it out loud.

If you were to give him one it'd make his heart melt. He'd be sure to thank you for it. You can see him wearing around the house and/or office as much as he can.

#these are pretty soft haha #and a little angsty #sorry its kind of short! #michael morbius #morbius comics #morbius x reader #morbius 2022 #dr. morbius

[meimi-haneoka]

Akiho Shinomoto - a manifesto of love

Despite becoming one of my favorite characters in the whole Cardcaptor Sakura franchise (and I would’ve never expected to love a new character this much), I realized I’ve never spent a long post for her, like the ones I did for SyaoSaku or for Tomoyo and Syaoran long time ago.

And there’s a lot to say, because Akiho Shinomoto is actually the first character who has introduced the concepts of evil and child abuse in Cardcaptor Sakura.

Something that wasn’t even remotely conceivable until (almost) 5 years ago.

Often considered boring and weak from the CCS fandom, Akiho actually harbors an immense strength inside of her, which goes mostly unnoticed to everyone, in-story friends included. Let’s see why.

Sentenced to death, for lack of magical powers

Once upon a time, a baby girl was born in a clan of powerful magicians, the most ancient of Europe. Clan members seemed happy and curious about the new entry to the family. They had great expectations about what magic she would develop, as everyone else in that family. At the ripe old age of 1 year and a half / 2 years, the baby girl was expected to show some signs of magic, but she had none. But hey, maybe she would become powerful later, let's pat her head and wait patiently. At that time, the Clan still showed some kind of "attention" for her.

But by the time the girl was around 6/7 years old, no fragment of magic appeared in her. Unacceptable. She's the daughter of two top rank magicians, in a clan of magic prodigies. Yet, she showed none of those gifts. They kept comparing her with some boy, living in a far away country, part of another famous magical clan. The girl suddenly held no more interest for her Clan. They actually started seeing her as a stain on their Clan's pride. Suddenly, the focus was all on how they could surpass the other rival clan. The girl was left all alone. A magicless member of the family is a member who doesn't even deserve being talked to. An interrogatory, at most. Who cares if the little girl wants to socialize, if she wants to play, if she's the only young person in that Clan, already without her parents who died so early on? The only thing this girl was good at was reading books, so all that's she's allowed to do. Not even playing with stuffed animals. For some reason, she's allowed to keep only ONE plushie, which is basically everything to her. But books and dolls can't fill that sinkhole she's already feeling at such young age.

Obsessed with this "anomaly", when she was about 2 years old, the Clan had the baby girl examined by a member of a Magic Association in England, known to be the den of shady magicians. A 8/9 year old bored magic genius, named “Yuna D.”, was her examiner. The boy said "She's like a blank book". The girl grew up, and the situation was still the same. The disapproving stares of her relatives cut the little girl’s heart like a sharp knife. They called her “worthless”, “useless”. They even doubted she could really be the daughter of her powerful parents. So what should they have done? Let the little girl live her life like any other regular human being, or taking literally the words of a BORED, EMOTIONALLY UNDEVELOPED CHILD who literally spat out the first thing that came to his mind?

Although the choice should’ve come easily for any normal human being with a functioning brain, they actually went in the other direction, greedy for power. And so, they decided to treat the girl like a tool, using her to store all kinds of magic for them to use. If she couldn’t be of any help to her clan with her capabilities, they would give her a purpose.

On some kind of altar, halfway between a lab rat and the sacrificing ritual of a sect, the most ancient Magicians of Europe together with the Magic Association performed a dangerous magic on her, which afterwards would take its toll even on the casters: they turned her into a magical artifact, capable of engraving in herself all the magical books she would encounter, transforming her de facto into a book herself. As if this wasn’t horrifying enough, this spell will progressively try to crush her soul and conscience, until it gets destroyed completely. So when the artifact will reach its limit, it will be the death of her, as a human being. Only a shell of her will remain. And judging by what was said later on in the story, they actually hope for her to lose her consciousness completely, so they can make use of her more easily.

Afterwards, they burned the book they took the ritual from, so the procedure would remain in their knowledge only. Greedy till the very last drop.

Once their perfect magical tool was achieved, turning a little girl into some sort of artifact, both the Clan and their accomplices couldn't stop bragging about it. The only positive words Akiho has ever received in her life by her people were after she was turned into a tool.

With a newly found purpose for that stain on their clan’s pride, they sent her away into the world to collect all the magic books she could find and write their powers into her, even though she was still just a child. For reasons still unknown, Yuna D., the boy who involuntarily caused this horrible ritual to happen and basically condemned her to death, offers himself to accompany her. The very first decision he took in his own life. That decision will change forever the course of their life, for both of them.

Rising from the ashes, towards a future of hope

Rehashing Akiho’s past is important to understand her personality and behavior fully. CLAMP, in the Clear Card manga, have portrayed the story of her past in a very peculiar way: it starts as any other fairytale, with light tones and cute designs. But as the story progresses, and the horror ensues, the tone of the tale changes, and so the drawing style too. It becomes serious, and “realistic” (ad opposed to the initial cutesy style). What started as a possible generic fairytale, turned into a real nightmare.

On top of being deprived of the love of her parents ever since she was born, because apparently they died right after, Akiho spent her early childhood in complete solitude. Those magicians who were supposed to be her remaining family were too absorbed into their own greed for power, to consider the needs of a baby girl. Not to mention that they had some kind of disgust for her, for being magicless. She was denied attention, cuddles, conversations, play activities, toys. She was denied love and care. All basic things that contribute to shape the personality and psychology of a person. Akiho grew up with the conviction that she wasn’t worth any of that, because no one gave it to her. One of the complaints I have seen the most about her in the fandom, is how she’s always so apologetic, to the point of becoming obnoxious. If you think about it, one of the most prominent characteristics of her personality is how she continuously apologizes to people, thanks them for any smallest thing, and is always, constantly seeking validation. 

But if you stop for a second to think about her past, you’ll realize with dismay that those are none other than symptoms of the abuse she suffered in the past. She was called “good for nothing” and “useless” by her clan and the Magic Association, and those words carved themselves into her heart, forever scarring it. Akiho grew up believing that she was really worthless and good for nothing just because she couldn’t meet the expectations of her clan, and it’s apparent when we see her considering herself “extremely clumsy”, even though we have afterwards seen that she’s perfectly capable of cooking, sewing, even playing sports. She only needs the dedication of someone who would teach her that.

With a disastrous psychological situation like this, one would naturally wonder how this girl didn’t commit anything extreme yet. Completely alone in the world, deemed useless. Unloved.

Books, books were her first lifeline. The fictional, magical, wonderful worlds depicted in those stories saved her sanity, making her dream about a better life, about friendship, about love. They taught her everything. They gave her the hope that those things existed out there, and maybe one day she would be blessed with them too. The fantastical characters kept her company when no one was there for her (yet). And she loves them viscerally for that, to the point of seeing herself mending damaged books in the future, as a possible occupation. Just like they mended her lacerated heart.

The second lifeline was her meeting with Kaito. Uncharacteristically to him, Kaito showed immediately a kind and interested behavior towards her. This was so shocking, so incredible that Akiho’s first reaction to his introduction was to run away. No one ever addressed her with the intention of having a conversation. No one was ever interested in what she was reading. Even just by this you can get a glimpse of how miserable her life had been till then. Full of psychological issues himself, thanks to the human connection Kaito gradually turned his attentions towards Akiho from contrieved mannerism, to genuine and sincere gestures. Akiho can feel that affection, even if her self-criticism always pushes her to believe that she’s nothing more than “job” to him. It’s something small, but what she’s experiencing with Kaito is her everything, and more than she’s ever had.

The third lifeline is Momo: Akiho doesn’t know, nor remotely imagines she’s actually a living magical creature. But she has been her constant presence ever since she was born. Her connection to her is special, and you can see it in their daily (one-sided, for now) interactions. Akiho talks to Momo, she greets her when she comes back home, she constantly carries her around, she thinks about giving her a little dress as a present. Momo is Akiho’s strength. The love this girl pours into what she believes is just a stuffed animal is incredible. It goes to show Akiho’s immense capacity to love something/someone without expecting anything in return, but actually just enjoying the simple presence and courage they give to her. If you think about it, it’s the very opposite of what she experienced with the only human interactions she’s ever had before Kaito came into the picture. Her aptitude to selfless love is also remarked between the lines in chapter 49, when Akiho is telling Sakura about her relationship with Kaito. Despite all the ugliness she went through, she’s still able to find in herself the strength to overcome all of it, and change her life for the better.

This certainly hasn’t been an easy or quick process, because in the flashbacks of her journey with Kaito we always see her with a pensive/serious look. It must have been extremely hard to start trusting others, when she had no one she could count on in her own home.

Akiho’s capacity to love and rise from the ashes of her terrible past has been so contagious, that it has started to affect Kaito too.  As Momo said in chapter 51, once you’re given the reason to change, no person can ever stay the same. This must have been true for Kaito, but certainly for Akiho too.

I’m absolutely positive that Akiho (and possibly, Kaito too) will be the symbol for one of the most important, beautiful messages in the whole Clear Card Arc: even if your life isn’t perfect, even if your past scarred you in multiple ways, there’s always hope. Hope to turn over a new leaf and change yourself for the better too, in the process. Overcome everything that had you stuck in pain and grief. Achieve what you always wished for.

#Card Captor Sakura #cardcaptor sakura #clamp #ccsakura #akiho shinomoto #sakura cardcaptor #ccs #clear card arc #clear card

[incorrectwutheringheightsquotes]

Sometimes people think that Heathcliff does not care about worldly matters at all, that his only concern in life is his spiritual love for Cathy and that even his revenge is either just a distraction or a way to feel closer to Cathy. It is definitely true that Heathcliff is mainly motivated by his love for Cathy, but there are indications that he has ambitions unrelated to it:

-Heathcliff and Hindley’s rivalry does precede Heathcliff’s separation from Catherine, and is actually initially focused on more by Nelly in her narrative than Heathcliff’s friendship with Cathy. The horse incident at the end of Chapter 4 showcases Heathcliff being acquisitive and manipulative regarding a matter completely unrelated to Cathy.

-Contrary to popular belief, Heathcliff does seem to have had a love for learning as a child:

“In the first place, he had by that time lost the benefit of his early education: continual hard work, begun soon and concluded late, had extinguished any curiosity he once possessed in pursuit of knowledge, and any love for books or learning. His childhood’s sense of superiority, instilled into him by the favours of old Mr. Earnshaw, was faded away. He struggled long to keep up an equality with Catherine in her studies, and yielded with poignant though silent regret: but he yielded completely; and there was no prevailing on him to take a step in the way of moving upward, when he found he must, necessarily, sink beneath his former level.”

Heathcliff did once possess a curiosity regarding learning and knowledge, and he only had given up on it because of Hindley’s abuse. Heathcliff is smart and I think he thought that he could benefit from being educated, and his only concern wasn’t just impressing Cathy. If he were the personification of Nature or the personification of Cathy’s “wild self” that many people think that he is, he wouldn’t be so spiteful about not being given an education and he wouldn’t try to take revenge on Hindley by keeping Hareton uneducated. His later hatred for books and learning could be a defense mechanism. Heathcliff did actually spend a good part of his childhood being the favored “son” of a middle class man and Catherine was the primary source of mischief and wildness in the house, not him.

-When he returns to Gimmerton after getting rich Heathcliff doesn’t actually know that Cathy loves him back. He technically got rich to impress Cathy but he doesn’t really have hope that they could ever be together at this point (either in life or in death) and his final goal is to just kill Hindley and then himself. His hatred for Hindley is of course partially caused by him having caused the separation between Heathcliff and Catherine, but he still hates him so much that killing him is the next best thing to being with Cathy.

-There is this line that Heathcliff says to Nelly:

“You suppose she has nearly forgotten me?’ he said. ‘Oh, Nelly! you know she has not! You know as well as I do, that for every thought she spends on Linton she spends a thousand on me! At a most miserable period of my life, I had a notion of the kind: it haunted me on my return to the neighbourhood last summer; but only her own assurance could make me admit the horrible idea again. And then, Linton would be nothing, nor Hindley, nor all the dreams that ever I dreamt. Two words would comprehend my future—death and hell”. (bolded part mine)

Of course this is another declaration of the intensity of his love for Cathy by Heathcliff, but the bolded part makes clear that he has other dreams of less importance, and that these dreams are related to his revenge on Hindley and Edgar, which means that his revenge is not just caused by his anger at losing Catherine but also by his hurt pride and ambition. Though admittedly it could also mean that his revenge would be meaningless if Catherine didn’t love him, I am a bit conflicted over this quote. Wuthering Heights: The novel where you have to ponder over the possible interpretations of a single line to learn the motivation of the main character.

-Far from completely giving up on his worldly life after losing Catherine, Heathcliff does have hopes and plans for his son:

“Yes, Nell,’ he added, when they had departed, ‘my son is prospective owner of your place, and I should not wish him to die till I was certain of being his successor. Besides, he’s mine, and I want the triumph of seeing my descendant fairly lord of their estates; my child hiring their children to till their fathers’ lands for wages. That is the sole consideration which can make me endure the whelp: I despise him for himself, and hate him for the memories he revives! But that consideration is sufficient: he’s as safe with me, and shall be tended as carefully as your master tends his own. I have a room upstairs, furnished for him in handsome style; I’ve engaged a tutor, also, to come three times a week, from twenty miles’ distance, to teach him what he pleases to learn. I’ve ordered Hareton to obey him: and in fact I’ve arranged everything with a view to preserve the superior and the gentleman in him, above his associates. I do regret, however, that he so little deserves the trouble: if I wished any blessing in the world, it was to find him a worthy object of pride; and I’m bitterly disappointed with the whey-faced, whining wretch!’” (bolded parts mine)

Losing Catherine to marriage and death might be Heathcliff’s primary motivation for his revenge but his anger at the class system and the inferiority complex that was caused by this oppression are clearly also important factors. As the latter bolded part makes clear, he also had hopes of finding his son a worthy object of pride, of course he is haunted and in a deep depression, but he still could wish for a blessing in the world, he hadn’t completely given up on worldly concerns.

-He does try to get richer by renting Thrushcross Grange or by being close-handed and mean to his tenants. He does not seem to do much with his money, he does not care for luxury or goods, but he clearly does like having money.

-Even after starting to become obsessed with Cathy’s ghost and wanting to join her, Heathcliff initially does not think of or hope for dying: “Afraid? No!’ he replied. ‘I have neither a fear, nor a presentiment, nor a hope of death. Why should I? With my hard constitution and temperate mode of living, and unperilous occupations, I ought to, and probably shall, remain above ground till there is scarcely a black hair on my head”.

Even after being completely absorbed in Cathy’s ghost, he still does think about his will: “When day breaks I’ll send for Green,’ he said; ‘I wish to make some legal inquiries of him while I can bestow a thought on those matters, and while I can act calmly. I have not written my will yet; and how to leave my property I cannot determine. I wish I could annihilate it from the face of the earth”.

I think this is more impressive than Heathcliff just wanting to die. You can see him gradually being completely convinced that he should die to be with Cathy. At one point he does care about worldly matters, later he cares about them less, at the end he does not care about them at all. You read this guy being gradually haunted to death by a ghost and it is psychological horror.

Conclusion: Of course him having lost Catherine is Heathcliff’s primary motivation for revenge, but I think these make clear that he is a character with other mercenary and vengeful ambitions and that it is ridiculous to say that he is a pure manifestation of Nature’s anger or just the wild side of Cathy.

#wuthering heights

[nickjunesource]

Full article below.

Max Minghella is sitting in his backyard in the LA sunshine, his t-shirt an homage to the French filmmaker Mia Hansen-Løve, his adopted shepherd mix, Rhye, excited by the approach of a package courier.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks — the dog, not me — tenderly.

Minghella, who at 35 has dozens of screen credits to his name, is best known as The Handmaid’s Tale’s cunning chauffeur Nick Blaine, a character who it’s difficult to imagine saying sweetheart. In airless Gilead, of course, a cautious hand graze with Elisabeth Moss’ June can pass for a big romantic gesture. In a Season 1 episode featuring child separation and hospital infant abduction, Nick’s major contribution is to trade stolen glances with a sex slave while “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” pumps discordantly along. I ask Minghella about playing the series’ closest approximation to a dreamy male lead against the show’s dark narrative of female subjugation.

“I know this is not the answer you want to hear,” Minghella says with none of Nick’s hesitation. “But I like that stuff, right? In the pilot, I think Nick only had a handful of lines. It wasn't clear that this is what the character would turn into. And it's quite fortunate for me personally, because I'm not a massively sort of intellectual person in my real life. I love Fifty Shades of Grey. That's like my Star Wars. It suits me to play a character like him.”

Minghella surmises that this enduring romanticism is an outcome of nurture. His father, the late British director Anthony Minghella, made grand romantic dramas like Cold Mountain and The English Patient. And there was the young, cinema-mad Max sitting on the living room sofa, absorbing everything. “It’s taken me a long time to understand this,” he says of his prolonged childhood exposure to love stories. “My dad made The English Patient when I was 10. So it was two years of watching the dailies to that movie and then watching 50 cuts of it. And then [The Talented Mr.] Ripley he made when I was 13, and it was the same thing.” These were an adolescent Max Minghella’s alternative to reruns. “I think they did shape my perspective on the world in a lot of ways, specifically The English Patient. That was a complicated love story, and I wonder sometimes how much it's affected my psychology.”

Some sons rebel; others resemble. Minghella’s co-star O-T Fagbenle, who plays June’s other lover from before the time of Gilead, got his first job acting in Anthony Minghella’s romantic crime film Breaking and Entering. “Anthony is one the kindest, most beautiful men that I've ever had the privilege of working with before,” Fagbenle says. “And Max has his gorgeous, sensitive, open-minded soul.”

Though Minghella spent his childhood on the set of The Talented Mr. Ripley, playing an uncredited Confederate soldier role in Cold Mountain, and tooling around with a Super-8 camera Matt Damon gave him, he insists his upbringing was normal. He grew up in South Hill Park overlooking Hampstead Heath in London with his father and mother, the choreographer Carolyn Choa. (Minghella also has a half-sister, Hannah Minghella, who is now a film executive.) Yes, technically, it was London, but that’s not how it seemed. “I feel like I grew up in a very small town. Every school I went to was in Hampstead. I was born in Hampstead,” Minghella says of the small map dot of his life before university. “When I went to New York, I felt I was going to the big city.”

Despite his illustrious surname, movie-watching was far from restricted to the classics. “Beverly Hills Cop is definitely the movie I remember having an unhealthy obsession with. I think I saw it when I was 5 for the first time, and I'd watch it just two or three times a day for years. I'm just obsessed with it.”

Plenty of actors can trace their love of movies back to a love of stories, but for Minghella the relationship seems to flow in reverse. When he left for Columbia University, Minghella opted to study history for its connection, through storytelling, to film. It was during the summers between his years of college that he started taking acting more seriously. Before his graduation, he’d already appeared in Syriana, starring Damon and George Clooney. Soon, he’d make a splash as Divya Narendra in The Social Network in 2010 and be cast in Clooney’s Ides of March. As all young actors eventually must, Minghella moved to Los Angeles.

It’s been over a decade since he last lived on the Heath, but, perhaps unusually for a person who’s chosen his profession, Minghella is adamantly not a “shapeshifter,” in his words. Home for Christmas this year, he started sifting through old journals stored at his mother’s house, “just like scraps of writing from when I was extremely young up through my teenage years,” before coming to America. “It was hilarious to me,” Minghella says of staring at his childhood reflection. “My review of a movie at 7 years old is pretty much what my review of a movie at 35 will be. My taste hasn't changed much. And when I sort of love something, I do tend to continue to love it.”

Which brings us back to his enduring love of romance, born of his bloodline, which is all over Minghella’s own 2018 directorial debut. Teen Spirit is a hazily lit film about a teenage girl from the Isle of Wight — the remote British island where Max’s father Anthony was born — who enters a local X-Factor-style singing competition. (It stars Minghella’s rumored girlfriend of several years, Elle Fanning.) The story is small, but its crescendos are epic.

Minghella calls the movie — an ode to the power of the pop anthem — “embarrassingly Max.” Max loves a good music-driven movie trailer — he’s watched the one for Top Gun: Maverick “many” times. And Max loves the rhythmic beats of sports movies like Friday Night Lights. Max loves movies with excesses of female energy, like Spring Breakers. He likens Teen Spirit to an experiment, his answer to the question, “Can I take all these things that I love and find a structure that can hold them?” The result is a touching “hodgepodge” of Minghella’s fascinations, inspired by the songs from another thing he loves: Robyn’s 2010 album Body Talk (itself a dance-pop meditation on love).

Minghella hasn’t directed any films since, but he sees now how making movies fits his personality — organized, impatient — more organically than starring in them does. Directing also helped him to appreciate that acting is “much harder than I was giving it credit for,” which, in turn, has made him like it more. Besides The Handmaid’s Tale currently airing on Hulu, Minghella appears in Spiral, the ninth installment in the Saw horror franchise and, from where I’m sitting, at least, a departure.

“I do like horror movies, but the thing that was really kind of magical is that I was feeling so nostalgic, right? We talked about Beverly Hills Cop earlier. I was just missing a certain kind of movie,” Minghella explains of his new role as Chris Rock’s detective partner. He was yearning for simple story-telling, like in the buddy cop movies of his youth, especially 48 Hours. It almost goes without saying that a buddy cop movie is another kind of love story. “And then I read the script and it was very much in that vein.” He clarifies: “I mean, it's also extremely Saw. It's very much a horror movie.”

His renewed excitement for acting translated onto The Handmaid’s Tale set, too. Veteran Hollywood producer Warren Littlefield describes casting Minghella in the role of Nick as an effortless choice: “Sometimes you agonize over things. [Casting Minghella] was instantly clear to me, and everyone agreed.” Now in its fourth season, the tone of the Hulu hit is graver than ever. Gilead is more desperate to maintain its rule, and so more audacious in its violence. Perhaps it’s fitting that the show’s romantic gestures finally match that scale.

In one particularly soaring moment, Elisabeth Moss’ June and Minghella’s Nick meet at the center of a bridge and crush into a long kiss. It’s been two seasons since they held their newborn daughter together, and it’s hard to see how this isn’t their last goodbye. Littlefield, like Minghella, is here for the romance among the rubble. “It's spectacular when they come together. In the middle of all of the trauma is this epic love story,” he says. “Max is just magnificent in the role.”

For Minghella, the satisfaction is more personal. He works with good people, he likes his scenes, and he thinks Nick is a complex character. Minghella read The Handmaid’s Tale for the first time in college in 2005. Like all the things Minghella has ever liked, he still likes it. He’s as proud of this most recent season as he is the show’s first. And he watched Nick and June race recklessly back to each other across the expanse of the screen exactly how you might expect. “I watched it like a fan girl.”

#max minghella #the handmaids tale #the handmaid's tale #nick blaine #nick x june #june x nick #osblaine #*

[clnriswood]

ARCHIE ANDREWS X READER

Big Little Town: Part Four

a/n: so happy to be back on this series -- also -- first chapter at rdh! prepare for a world of pain, hehe. don’t forget to ask to join our tag list! x

gif dobhennig

tag list: @my-soul-is-the-moon @lghenry4 @megumii-606 @a-littlebreak-for-b

. . . 

First day of school. Again. Except this time the girl was going to put forward her best foot, as she had no intention of letting her troubled past or awfully introverted persona be the talk of the school. When she awoke that morning her alarm had yet to go off, for her nerves alone brought her stinging eyes open. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling and listening to the thrum of her heart until her alarm rang, at which point she coolly turned it off and sat up with an extended sigh. The girl flipped on a lamp switch and headed for the shower, scrubbed herself three times over, washed and curled her hair, and grabbed the outfit she’d hung the night before. To make sure it was suitable for a first day at Riverdale High she’d sent a message to Betty for help, at which point Betty re-directed her to Veronica, at which point Veronica, appalled by her choice of jeans and a plain shirt, fixed the girl up with something better.

Standing in front of the mirror, the girl gave a long sigh and fluffed up her hair with the tips of her fingers. She wore a satin rosy crop top with thin straps that clutched tightly to her skin, a short black skirt that swirled around her hips, and some tannish ankle high boots with thickly chunked heels. This was certainly far classier than she normally would’ve gone for school, but first impressions were apparently important as ever at Riverdale. The girl caught herself scowling at her reflection, at which point she leaned forward, topped up her sheer lip gloss, and practiced smiling… literally. After giving up shortly after, she resumed her scowl, picked up her black leather backpack, and went to open her thin white curtains. As she did so, none other than Archie Andrews caught her eye.

He was wearing only boxers and a pair of black jeans, leaving his completely exposed chest open to the glittering sunbeams that seeped into his room. He’d let out a huge yawn, one hand running through his auburn locks, and his eyes were adorably sleepy. The girl felt a lump grow in her throat when her eyes caught sight of the not-so-subtle six pack Archie was sporting, one that was deathly attractive and connected sharply to the prominent V shape that connected from his hips to his-- well--

Archie, locking eyes with her, went still. His eyes seemed to glaze over the same exact way hers surely had done when she looked at him. Both of them just kind of stood there for a good few seconds, like deer in the headlights, absorbing one another. Then the girl, awkwardly shooting her gaze from his abs and to the ceiling with a forced fake cough, turned and bolted from her room. Archie, seeing this, fumbled to grab his dark blue Riverdale hoodie, and pulled it over his head as he too went stumbling away. The girl met her mother on the stairs, insisting they leave now, and went speedily out the front door to avoid making further contact with Archie after that embarrassing incident. But they hadn’t made it two feet onto the grass before Archie came jogging out to meet them.

“Mrs. (Y/L/N)!’ he called, panting and giving a jovial wave and smile.

The girl’s mother smiled sleepily, “good morning Archie.”

“Morning,” he said through a short breath, stopping to meet the two in the middle of the lawn.

The morning dew settled on the girl’s shoes, as she dug her heel nervously into the ground and pursed her lips into one of her fake smiles and grumbled a hello.

“Mrs. (Y/L/N),” he said again, slinging his bag over his shoulders, “I was wondering if I could take your daughter to school, since it’s her first day.”

Please say no.

Her mother raised her brows with a smile, “that sounds lovely, actually. My work is on the other side of town so it’d be a big help.”

Fuck.

“Doesn’t that sound lovely?” her mother elbowed her with a very obvious wink.

The girl widened her eyes in horror and her mother’s indiscretion, to which Archie, completely obliviously, beamed.

“Right,” the girl laughed uncomfortably, raising her eyes to Archie’s big brown one’s.

And he looked so excited that she couldn’t help but soften, giving him a genuine smile, “it does.”

“Great,” Archie nodded, giving her mother a squeeze, “have a great day at work ma’am.”

“Thank you Archie,” her mother cooed.

As the girl followed Archie, she threw a glance over at her mother, who raised two giant thumbs up, making the girl go beet red as she tried desperately to get away faster.

Archie went ahead, unlocking his truck and opening the girl’s door for her with a happy little grin. She climbed in, sighing with nerves as Archie entered beside her and brought his truck roaring to life. But before he pulled out, he turned to look at her, his eyes flashing with like.

“You look really nice,” he said, clearing his throat and giving her a timid smile.

She felt herself stiffen, “thanks, Archie. So do you.”

At this Archie glanced down at his own clothes, checking himself out skeptically like she must be unaware of what she’d just said. But she’d meant it. Only Archie Andrews could make a hoodie and jeans look that flattering.

“Thanks?” he raised his brows with a chuckle. The girl just let out an airy laugh and turned her eyes to the road as he pulled his car back and made way down the scenic road. They didn’t talk much on the way to school. The churning in her stomach made her too nervous to. But Archie didn’t force it, he just kept his eyes forward with contently upturned lips. It looked like he was keeping on his promise to look out for her after all.

. . .

The halls were packed at the school. Blue lockers were thrown open and swarmed by students of all sorts, most of whom seemed to be completely familiar with one another. It was for that reason that it was unsurprising to see them collectively taking second looks when they realized there was fresh meat walking down the hallway, accompanied by Archie himself. At times when she’d been jostled she’d wanted to reach for his arm, but resisted the ridiculous urge by folding her arms tight over her chest. Soon thereafter she saw a blonde ponytail bouncing down the hall.

“(Y/N),” Betty beamed, “I see you had a chat with V.”

Betty herself wore a pink sweater with little polka dots, tucked neatly into her skinny blue jeans. It was weirdly suited for her.

“You look great,” she elaborated. Then, turning, she said, “here’s your locker, it’s near mine.”

Betty brought the girl to the locker located to the right of her own, whispering, “I made sure they gave you this one.”

“Thanks,” the girl smiled bashfully, unloading her schoolbooks into the locker by her new friend.

Archie stayed quiet the whole time, leaning lazily onto the next locker down as he surveyed the two.

“If you get lost at lunch just look for me and Jug. Oh, and we have AP Gov together by the way,” Betty continued on, handing the girl her schedule which was neatly printed onto a crisp white sheet of paper. “And Psychology!”

“Great,” the girl said, feeling a little overwhelmed.

Archie pried the paper from her hands, noting, “my first period is with you.”

An unfamiliar voice chimed in, “mine too.”

The girl brought her eyes slowly up to look behind Archie’s shoulder, where a fiery redheaded girl stood.

“Cheryl Blossom,” the girl extended her perfectly manicured hand.

Her long red hair fell perfectly around her pale face and perfect features, and her bright red lips bent upwards into a smile as she stepped confidently forward. The girl felt instantly intimidated.

“(Y/N)(Y/L/N),” she replied, extending a nervous hand in return.

Cheryl shook it firmly, “I know. Well, I know of you.”

The girl raised a confused brow, to which Cheryl leaned forward, whispering, “you’re not the only Riverdale nutcase around.”

She felt her heart drop.

“Don’t ask,” Cheryl cut her off before she could open her mouth, “I know everything about everyone. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, new girl.”

Archie and Betty, who were just close enough to hear her whisperings, exchanged confused glances. But Cheryl just smiled and pulled away, patting at her red dress with a clear of her throat.

“Anyways,” she said, loudly this time. “I’m having a seniors only party this Friday, you know, to kick off the school year, and I hope to see you there. Until then, first period,” she winked and gracefully swept away, leaving the girl with an opened mouth and glazed eyes, which were interrupted only by the sound of the bell.

Betty, bewildered as ever, said her goodbyes, Archie looking similarly confused as he escorted the still dazed girl into a nearby classroom where she’d be studying-- literature-- according to the whiteboard her eyes landed upon. The boy took a seat near the back, hitting off a fellow classmate so the girl could sit beside him. This fellow classmate looked displeased until he saw what, or who rather, this was for.

He was tall with jet black hair that was slicker perfectly atop his head, minus a loose stray dangling in front of his dark eyes, He wore a Riverdale jersey and a kind of permanent smolder, and he extended a hand to the girl as she sunk into her seat.

“And who might this be?”

“(Y/N),” the girl responded as the room’s lights and sounds came back into focus, her eyes now preoccupied with the rather attractive boy who towered over her.

She took the boy’s firm hand, to which he smirked a “Reggie” in reply. “You didn’t tell me the new girl was hot,” Reggie said quite loudly to Archie as he continued shaking her hand, to which the both of them grew red.

“Shut up Reggie,” they said in unison, making the boy snicker.

He beamed, flickering his finger between the both of them, “that’s funny. You two are funny.”

“Take a seat, mister Mantle,” a stern female voice said from the front of the classroom.

Reggie, obeying the teacher, scoffed and took his seat in front of (Y/N), keeping his eyes lingering on her for a second longer than comfortable. He soon after procured a notebook, tore a sheet out, and began jotting away with a stray pen. As the teacher gave her introductions, Reggie leaned back and stretched over his head, dropping the paper onto the girl’s desk. Baffled, she unfolded it.

Want a date to Cheryl’s?

The girl felt herself grow warm in surprise. Clearly this boy got straight to the point with things, she thought. As she picked up her own pen she saw Archie leaning not so subtly over to get a look at the paper, at which she chuckled softly and moved it out of his view.

Wasn’t planning on going.

She folded the paper neatly up as a student began passing around textbooks, giving her enough of a distraction to pass the paper onto Reggie.

She’d meant what she wrote. Parties weren’t really her scene, especially not one led by the girl who apparently knew everything about everyone. The thought alone made her stomach churn, at which she recalled the note she’d received the night earlier, one she’d stashed away in her dresser the minute she’d gotten inside. Maybe it was someone playing some sick practical joke oh her, or something. Maybe Cheryl knew.

Reggie apparently read over the reply, as he had turned back in his seat to give the girl an unimpressed raise of his brows. He dropped his voice an octave and leaned into her to mouth a quiet reply.

“Change your mind.”

His voice raised a little at the end like it might be posed as a question, but the confidence in his tone simultaneously ruled that out, making it instead appear as a heavily influenced suggestion.

“Mr. Mantle,” the voice from the front of the classroom called sternly again.

He gave an exasperated sigh, running his long fingers through his jet black locks as he gave a disgruntled “ma’am” and resumed his silence.

Archie gave an inaudible scoff, his steely eyes remaining forward for the rest of the class.

. . .

“What did Reggie want?”

Not two seconds after class ended and Archie was on her case about it, blindly trailing her out of the classroom with his fists stuffed cooly into the front pocket of his hoodie.

The girl shrugged half heartedly as they entered the hallway, “he asked to escort me to Cheryl’s.”

“Oh,” Archie said, quickly clearing his throat and trying at it again when he realized it came off sounding upset. “And what’d you say?”

The girl stopped at her locker, leaning against it to look at the stony faced boy and feeling herself getting caught up in his stupid gorgeous eyes.

“N-nothing,” she shook her head with a sharp inhale, “I said I wasn’t going.”

“Oh?” the boy replied.

“Yeah uh, not my thing,” she pursed her lips with a shrug, leaving out the other little part from her reasoning. “Are you going?”

“We are!” a voice exclaimed.

Veronica Lodge seemingly poofed into existence behind Archie, wrapping her arms around his back with a big grin, “right Archiekins?”

She wore a black dress and sleek matching heels, something that, once again, only she could seemingly pull off at school.

Archie blinked down at his girlfriend in surprise, giving her a squeeze back, “uh, yep. We are.”

“Cool,” the girl feigned interest, switching out the books from her locker before shutting it a little too hard.

“Walk you to your next class?” he perked up hopefully.

But the sight before her was making her grow increasingly uncomfortable, and somehow the thought of the two of them trailing behind her to class entwined like that did the opposite of reassure her, so she gave a forced smile and happy wave of her schedule.

“I’ve got it, actually. But, thanks.”

The rest of the day sort of blurred past in a haze. The classes were fine. The people were fine. Everything was… just alright. It didn’t seem like there was anyone or anything in particular to cause her worry. She’d met a few new people, one of whom went by Toni Topaz and fought Reggie off with a textbook when he tried sitting by the girl in calculus. Turns out she was Cheryl’s girlfriend, which she wouldn’t have guessed from their stark differences in personalities, but seemed generally lovely. She’d also sat with Betty, Archie, Jughead, and Veronica at lunch, but felt herself the target for many eyes in the cafeteria, and a major fifth wheel to say the least. At the end of the day, she found herself alone in the halls, at which point she checked the coast before promptly slamming her forehead into the locker with a groan. It was going to be a long year, she knew that much. Taking a deep breath, she aligned her back once more and gathered her thoughts. While going home now was certainly an option, she couldn’t help but recall Archie’s mention of some sort of cheer team. Of course, she had no interest in joining, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t check it out, right? At least, that’s what she told herself as her feet took her striding down the halls and onto the back field, where she was greeted by a blast of light to the eyes.

Shielding her face, she approached the neat green grass and uniform clad girls who were assembling on it. They were led by none other than Cheryl, who was barking inaudibly at them all from a high chair. With her were Toni, Veronica, and about a dozen others. The girl felt her stomach lurch at just the sight of all of them, but what really did it for her was seeing the boys run in from the opposite end of the field, led by Archie, of course, who hadn’t noticed her. His eyes had fallen right on the raven haired girl, not that she was blaming him. The sweaty auburn haired boy, suited full in his football uniform, jogged over to his girlfriend for a short lived embrace and kiss on the lips, which brought the bystanding girl swiftly back to reality. Realizing where she was and the stupidity of what she was doing, she stumbled backwards in a frantic effort to leave. Of course, in her panic, she twisted her ankle and yelped in hurt, drawing attention from all on the field.

“Joining us?” Cheryl snapped from her chair, her big red lips parted.

Archie squinted sunbeams from his brown eyes, an attractive slick dripping from his brows as his mouth hung open in a half smile at her.

“Um,” she yelled back awkwardly, “no.”

“Come on, (Y/N)!” Veronica encouraged with a dazzling flash of her teeth. “Come try out!”

“Yeah!” Archie beamed hopefully.

The girl just stood there, eyes flickering between the teens who stood awaiting her reply. She was suddenly very aware of the blistering heat that chomped at her flesh. And then there came no reply. Rather, she hooked her fingers in her bag straps and bolted back into the doors from which she came before she could answer in full. Panting and red in the cheeks, the girl half-sprinted down the halls in an effort to distance herself from her painfully awkward encounter. She wasn’t halfway out of the school before Betty came bobbing into sight, however.

The peppy blonde smiled a big hello as she interjected her in her path, “what are you doing here?”

The girl stuttered a wordless reply and rubbed at her temple, not sure how to explain what’d just gone through her dumb head. Luckily, Betty seemed to piece the answer together for herself.

“You weren’t trying out for the Vixens, were you?” she chuckled.

“Uh,” the girl laughed sheepishly, “I considered it.”

“And?” Betty smirked knowingly.

“Not for me,” she laughed with embarrassment.

Betty grinned, “don’t worry, me neither. I used to think it was, but the only reason I really joined back in freshman year was because I liked Archie.”

Pure panic ensued.

“Ridiculous, right?” Betty chortled on.

“Yeah,” the girl snorted unconvincingly, “ridiculous.”

Betty arched her brow ever so slightly with faint curiosity, but she dropped it and gave her the benefit of the doubt.

“Anyways, what’re you doing?” the girl asked in an effort to divert the subject.

“Oh, I work yearbook after school sometimes,” Betty explained.

“Ah,” the girl nodded in understanding, her lips pressing together. Then, not having anything else to say, she concluded, “well, have fun!”

But she hadn’t raised a toe before Betty stopped her in her tracks, her pony swinging as she gave her new friend a warm smile and a cheeky perk of her brows, “wanna help?”

. . .

Yearbook was much more her pace. It was calm, organized, came with good company, and most importantly, was air conditioned. Betty walked the girl through her usual procedures, and soon enough they were both at work, sometimes in silence, sometimes making easy conversation. The girl’s creativity along with Betty’s logical practices mingled well. Afterwards, Betty offered the girl a ride, to which she now happily obliged. On their way out of the abandoned classroom they were held up in, the doors down the hall came bursting open, at which point the cheer and football team made its way flooding down their direction. The stench of hot grass and sweat followed them in. At their front, Reggie led the pack, his long black locks plastered to his forehead and his chest heaving as he took swigs of the icy water contained in the bottle he held. The girl made the mistake of stopping in her tracks to stare, gaining her an instant visit from the boy, who swaggered his way over to her as the students passed. Betty’s eyes flicked between Reggie and the girl once, twice, and a third time before she put together what was happening and sauntered in the other direction with a giggle.

“Betty!” she called, “my ride?”

Betty didn’t even turn her head as she replied, “meet me out front when you’re done.”

The girl sucked in an annoyed breath and forced her eyes up to the boy who towered above her, “yes?”

Reggie sniggered, “hey now, sass.”

Her pursed lips softened into the smallest of smiles.

“Reggie,” she said.

“(Y/N),” he beamed back, flashing her one of those killer smiles. “Reconsider my offer?”

The girl gave a sarcastic laugh, “you’re persistent, Mantle.”

His dark eyes flashed with like, “mhm?”

“But I’m still not interested,” she said, running her tongue lightly over her teeth and avoiding eye contact with the impossibly attractive boy before her.

Her gaze, looking for anywhere else to land, settled on Archie, who just now emerged from the pool of light at the end of the hall, his arm loose around his girlfriend’s shoulder. He looked surprisingly clean in comparison to the other boys, she noticed. Likely this was Veronica’s work. The two smiled at each other, inseparable as they made their way down the hall. Archie’s large hazel stare seemed to suddenly gravitate to the girl’s, like he knew she was watching, at which point she snapped her jaw firmly back up to Reggie.

Reggie, unbothered, continued.

“Not true,” he hummed, his lips twitching into that infuriating smirk.

“What’s not?” her brows furrowed in mild aggravation.

“You not being interested,” he shrugged with a tilt of his head.

“Oh yeah, Mantle?” she crinkled her nose and folded her arms.

“Yeah,” he chuckled amusedly, “otherwise you wouldn’t be flirting with me right now.”

Her eyes went steely and her jaw went stiff, the girl’s blood suddenly sounding very loud in her ears as she brushed off his remark with a grumble.

“Come on,” he pleaded, extending his large hands and peeling the girl’s arms from her chests so he could hold her little wrists in them. His eyes softened in menacing adoration, “please?”

Feeling her face flush, she stuttered wordlessly and found her eyes wandering, once again, back to Archie’s. Archie was now standing up against his locker, waiting for her, as Veronica leaned into his front, her view of the two obscured. He seemed to watch her with some sort of unidentifiable expression, his forehead creasing as he observed Reggie’s gentle grip on the girl. But whatever strange thing he was thinking was interrupted by Veronica leaning up to kiss his lips, at which point any trace of him that could be read was stifled.

“Yes,” the girl decided at once.

Reggie’s lips split into one of those huge grins, “wait, really?”

The girl sighed in defeat and tucked a lip between her teeth, “what can I say, Reggie? You’re persistent.”

“YES!”

He whooped, releasing her wrists so he could half dance half punch the air. It was ridiculous. And cute.

The boy beamed down at her and flickered his black eyes over hers, his gaze softening like he wanted to, well, kiss her or something. But like a gentleman, he didn’t. Instead, he once more reached for the girl’s wrist, bringing a hand up to his lips, where he pecked her gently with a stupid little laugh, making her half scowl half chortle in embarrassment.

“Pick you up Friday?” he winked, releasing her.

“Whatever,” she shrugged, not giving him the satisfaction of her flattery as she pursed her lips in an attempt to suppress her smile.

Reggie half walked half skipped down the rest of the hall, turning a good few times to throw her glances as he disappeared out of sight. Once the coast was cleared and the halls had drained empty, Archie’s voice rang out.

“(Y/N),” he said.

She turned to meet him. Veronica now stood beside him, fingers intertwined with the ginger’s ones. Archie looked like he had something sour in his mouth.

“Uh, can I- do you-” he started, his words coming fast and tripping confusedly one after the other. He shook his head and pressed his tongue to his teeth, trying again. “Need a ride?”

She shook her head, “thanks, Archie, but I’m good.”

She gave him a little smile, which he exchanged for a forced one of his own, “alright.”

And he watched her go.

. . .

The ride home was hazy. The girl’s head was swimming with thoughts, the last day playing over in her mind like tapes. Betty exclaimed gleefully at her newfound interest in Reggie, adding that it was no wonder she’d been interested in joining the Vixens. By this she meant to get closer to Reggie, of course. The girl played it off accordingly. After Betty dropped the girl home, she made her way across the stone path towards the little red door. There was a little pep to her step, a hopeful sway that told her maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all. But her thoughts were short lived, when they focused instead on the new note that lay upon her doorstep.

I’m watching.

#archie andrews x reader #archie andrews imagine #archie andrews imagines #archie andrews fanfic #archie andrews fanfiction #archie x reader #archie andrews fluff #archie andrews smut #riverdale x reader #riverdale fanfiction #archie andrews #betty cooper #jughead jones #veronica large #reggie mantle imagine #reggie mantle x reader #reggie mantle fanfic #imagines #riverdale #writing

[eyreguide]

Jane Eyre & Rebecca

I’ve always thought that Daphne du Maurier has acknowledged that her 1938 novel Rebecca was a re-working of Jane Eyre, but I haven’t been able to confirm that (if anyone does know of a direct quote from du Maurier, please let me know!)  But nevertheless there are still many similarities between the two in terms of plot and themes, and having recently re-read Rebecca, I wanted to dive into how these two wonderful books mirror each other.

Both Jane Eyre and Rebecca are deemed Gothic novels - stories in which romance, suspense, and horror intertwine. And both novels heavily feature elements often associated with Gothic stories - death, fire, madness, young and innocent women, and older, imposing men.  

The relationship dynamic between the two couples feature some similarities, (older man, younger woman, class difference, mystery/secrets between the two) but there are also important differences - Jane and Rochester get to know each other more, and their courtship is not quite as whirlwind as the second Mrs. de Winter and Maxim. In Rebecca, the tension does not lie in whether or not Rochester and Jane will declare their feelings for each other, but in whether Maxim loves his second wife, even though he married her. Jane Eyre appeals to me for the tension in a romance undeclared as I found in my re-reading of Rebecca that I felt very frustrated by how Maxim treated his wife. I did understand why he felt estranged and unsure - it was endearing to find out that he wasn’t sure if she could love an older man like him as much - but he did kind of ignore her for most of the time she was at Manderley. Granted the girl also spent most of her time trying to pacify Maxim whenever he showed a temper, so the dynamic between the two felt much less romantic than in Jane Eyre.

In bringing the two main characters together within the first few chapters, Daphne du Maurier is given time to develop the suspense and psychological dread that defines Rebecca. Film adaptations can add as many shadowy hallways and dramatic musical beats to Jane Eyre as they want, but the story is much more focused on character development and romantic tension. Once the reader becomes absorbed by the narrator in Rebecca, her every thought seems to tend towards “I’m not good enough.” or “He doesn’t love me.” Her neuroticism can be exasperating but I of course also empathized with her insecurities. And I enjoyed the way the author plotted how every scene seemed to exacerbate that. Rebecca is such a great example of how one’s inner monologue affects you.

With the actual character of Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier creates an interesting version of Bertha Mason. Rebecca and Bertha share many traits - beauty and accomplishments, an alluring personality, and ultimately selfishness, greed, and a malicious streak. While some of Bertha’s vices may be explained by mental illness, Rebecca stands on her own as fully embracing her vices. She shows no remorse, yet is still captivating as the villain of the story. Just as Bertha proves an obstacle to Rochester’s happiness, Rebecca ingeniously places an obstacle to Maxim’s happiness even in death. It’s fascinating how du Maurier crafted a story where the dead haunt the living - but in a way that feels realistic and doesn’t rely on paranormal intervention. The story is also beautiful in its simplicity - the other characters build up Rebecca in the mind of the second Mrs. de Winter and the reader so that it makes sense to name the book after her. For despite the de Winters’ attempts at happiness there is seemingly no escape from Rebecca and her machinations.

It is also interesting to consider Rochester and Maxim. One is adamant that he can not kill - even indirectly - his first wife, and another does so in a moment of passion. I wonder if that could be a commentary on the superior nature of one over the other - but if Rochester was in a situation closer to Maxim - where he had to acknowledge Bertha as his wife, with the possibility of raising her child which he knows is not his - would that drive him to commit such a crime? Impossible to say, but a very thought-provoking conundrum. You could even consider that if Jane was in a similar situation to the second wife - would Jane work to cover up her husband’s crime? I kind of believe in that case that she would not.

Even if du Maurier does not acknowledge Jane Eyre as a direct inspiration for Rebecca, I love thinking about Rebecca as a sort of inversion of Charlotte Brontë’s novel. Where the focus is not on the two characters in love, but on the shadow between them and how that shadow grows until it must be acknowledged. Bertha Mason in Jane Eyre is more of a plot device in how she affects the relationship between Jane and Rochester - with Jane only going on to develop further and achieve independence. Rebecca does cause the second Mrs. de Winter to develop further, but she is limited in her transformation. I love the two works for different reasons and find them both engrossing and intelligent reworkings of a romantic Gothic tale.

#Jane Eyre #Charlotte Bronte #Rebecca #Daphne du Maurier #Literature #Gothic Romance #Joan Fontaine

[morepeachyogurt]

i’m locking up everyone (who ever laid a finger on me)

Elle Greenaway Gen fic, brief romance with ofc 

Word Count- 8,100

Summary-  Elle’s been angry since she was young, a look into that anger until she finally gives in.

Tw- blood, knives, murder, brief mentions of rape and pedophilia (nothing graphic), minor substance mentioned, and language I guess

read here on ao3

You think it all started when Randall Garner decided you weren’t worth living. When he took a bullet from his shiny gun, broke into your home, your safe place, and shot you in the chest. As your blood spilled onto your floors you couldn’t help but blame the man who sent you home. Hotch may not have pulled the trigger but he loaded the gun which almost took your life. You were helpless, had to sit there, and watch it pour onto your floor like a pond being drained to make room for yet another building. Its life is sucked out of it like yours was. You closed your eyes because you did not want to see the blood. You’re no stranger to blood, you’re a woman after all, plus you work a job surrounded by murder and misery. There's nothing quite like watching corpse after corpse of other women laying on the floor, their eyes panicked and their blood staining the floor. It was never supposed to be you but now it was. This is how it ends, you suppose. You didn’t even save a life going down like you always thought you would. You were targeted. A victim. You were not an accident caught in the crosshairs. No, this was intentional and now you’re bleeding out your soul and you almost don’t want to be brought back to life. 

~

When you were seven your mother baked pie after pie. Your father was dead, died heroically everyone said. Like that made it better. Who cares that you’ll never see him again, he’ll never teach you to ride a bike now like you guilt-tripped him for not doing before. Now he's dead and you’re surrounded by baked goods to fuel the appetite you don’t have. You feel hollow and you wish you didn’t. Sadness like your mother would be better, anger like his fellow officers would be better. You ask her why she’s baking pies, she doesn’t even like them. Fueron la cosa favorita de tu papá, cariño. Lo echo de menos cada dia. She acts like you don’t know your father’s favorite dessert, like you don’t miss him too. Ah, there’s the anger. Much better, you’ll revel in. That was not your question, you wanted to know why she felt like she could replace him with apple pie. You don’t tell her this, your father didn’t call you peanut to be vicious, he called you it because you were kind and soft. Were. Instead, you give your mother a soft smile like that fixes anything.

The days go on like they always do, a tv show where you cannot cancel your subscription. The anger subsides a bit, there will always be a gaping hole where your father’s kind eyes and gentle smile took root. For now, your heart is creating a shelter for it. It’s not perfect yet but you hope someday it will be.

You learn to laugh again, you speak Spanish with your mother. Sea bilingual mija, los estudios dicen que es buena para tu cerebro. ¿No quises saber la lengua materna de sus ancestros?  You let her teach you the words of the women who can before you. It’s a beautiful thing to speak two languages. Perhaps connections make us who we are, now your ability to connect is twofold. 

~

Your first day at the bau was almost as you imagined it. You did not imagine the genius barely old enough to drink, looking at crime scenes like he was made for it. Sculpted by the gods to examine the bodies of women like you and say why they were executed and by whom. Perhaps he was, Gideon did seem to think of himself as a god figure. You did not expect when returning to the office to see a woman who looked as though she stepped inside a rainbow and absorbed all its warmth. She looked like she would give you great hugs, she looked like home. That was a dangerous thought to be had in a place like this. They say it's a family. No family should be hoisted upon the foundation of murder. Blood should not be the glue that holds people together. Oh, and blood there was, almost every crime scene had its stench. The rust in the air reminds you of the junkyard by your house where you used to get high at with your friend that was never quite a friend. You would talk about the secrets of the universe and whether or not you felt as though you could exist in this world without paying a price. You argued that the world seems to take reservations, some were born with them already made, others bought them. The rest of you were forced to sell your soul to the devil to earn enough money to survive, to have a place in the world. She never quite saw your point. She will. 

~

Even in your youth, you’ve never truly felt safe, perks of having a cop as a father means you’ve learned the cruelty of man far sooner than you should have, than you would have. He gave you rules to keep you safe.

Rule 1: you cannot walk alone or late at night. You yearn for the freedom of the boys on your block. The night and its darkness is so pure to you, the stars always in sight. Your mother tells you your father is in the sky and you look for him, to see if he twinkles at you. You do not want your mother to know this, it’s a secret shared by the two of you and you think that's sacred. Since you can’t walk alone at night you never get to look for him. Your father and freedom robbed from you by the men on the news and in your father’s case files. 

Rule 2: never leave your drink unattended, you do not drink you are much too young but sometimes your eyes wander to your liquor cabinet and you wonder if there is a better state of being. If you can float above the longing for a different reality where you have a father and you are happy. 

Rule 3: Do not dress provocatively, you are fourteen years old and you do not see why what you wear should impact your safety. You are not a gift wrapped up in a pretty package waiting for it to be ripped away to reveal something desirable. That does not stop the men from leering at you when you walk home from school, you still have your backpack on so you know it’s part of the appeal. It does not stop the boy in your science class from trying to grab your ass after class. You punch him in the nose and you get suspended. They do not listen to you. They do not care about the words of a girl, you are not here to have opinions on the world apparently you’re here to be a toy for those meant to have opinions. One day you’ll show them they’re wrong.

The list goes on and on, society loves to tell you that you will never be safe in this world. You wonder why no one is trying to make the world safe for you. Maybe that's your purpose. You were too late to be saved from the cruelty of this universe but perhaps there's another young girl who can be. 

~

College, the supposed best years of your life. You decided to fulfill fourteen-year-old you’s wish to save the girls of the world so you major in criminology with a minor in psychology. What better way to stop them than to get inside their heads. You won’t let them into yours. They do not deserve the honor and the horror. You watch crime shows for fun, maybe for education. You see how these girls get taken and you know how to not make their mistakes. You also see what the killers did wrong. Part of you wonders if your future job, and the education for said job, are all an elaborate plan for you to win at the world. Life’s a game and you plan to be its victor. Learn their mistakes. Be better. You won’t fall for their tricks, you’re smarter than that. 

Your studies do not stop you from enjoying your time here while you can. Once you see your first real corpse you know there's no going back. Any bit of being insouciant will be stolen from you just like the lives of the bodies you will hover over. 

The party you are at is loud, not as loud as the inside your head, but enough to help you get out of it. You lock eyes with a woman who is quite possibly a work of art. She's in one of your classes, the buzz of alcohol in your head pleasantly blocking all memories of your studies. She smiles at you, shyly, and you wonder for the first time if perhaps angels are real. Her hair is blonde, just like an angel, it is her halo. Her eyes are blue like the water of the lakes you have stared at looking for an answer and perhaps you can find it in her eyes. She makes her way to you, she too has been loosened by alcohol for she stands far too close to be mistaken with platonic intentions towards you. Lily, your brain provides, is even more beautiful up close. She has freckles that dance along the bridge of her nose and you briefly wish to kiss them. Kiss her. The two of you dance, swaying to the beat of whatever trashy music is playing. You ask her if she’d like to go outside and take a walk with you. She says yes.

She is curious why but she follows you outside. You hesitantly grasp her hand as you pull her along a secret path you found on your first week here. She looks at the constellations above you and names the one you are staring at. As she looks at the sky you decide she is more beautiful than they are and you gaze at her while she gazes at the stars. She catches you eventually and you place a hand on her cheek. Her eyes shimmer in the moonlight and you ask if you can kiss her. She accepts and you accept that it might be your new favorite hobby. Perhaps you could spend hours kissing her. You do. 

Lily and you have your perfect YA book experience. She takes you to coffee shops and you look at the stars together. You are not breaking your father’s rules for now you are not alone, it will end though, you know it. You are not the type of girl who gets her happy ending. You tell her a bad pun about the stars and she laughs and tells you the names of constellations she knows, god her laugh. You wish you could bottle it up and save it for a rainy day. Granted, you spend your rainy days with her cuddling up with bad movies and good hot chocolate. You gift her a pair of constellation earrings, you tell her, think of me when you look at the night sky, you want to say, please don’t forget me when you leave me, she gives you a blanket which is almost as soft as her. You are so in love with her your words can not describe it, so you use other people's words. You write poetry on the soft skin of her forearm. She doodles little flowers on your wrist. Perhaps they are like matching tattoos, unlike matching tattoos, these do not last forever. Just like the two of you. The problem comes not with her, she was never anything but perfect to you. The problem of course is you.

As you drown in your textbooks filled with bodies and bodies and bodies you can feel your soul filling with misery and a passion for justice. Slowly it consumes you and there is little time for the joy that is brought to you by her. She feels you slipping away like a boat that is not properly tied. It’s hard to be in a relationship where the other person is half focused on you while the other half of her mind wanders in dark alleyways with killers, wanting, no needing, to know why they commit their sins. Study dates turn into texts turn into nothing. There is no formal break up. You do not deserve the courtesy of a clean break and she is too sweet to break your heart. The two of you drift apart like you always knew you would, and soon you only see her in your one shared class. Her mind is not consumed with darkness, Lily does not wish to catch the monsters of the world, she wishes to paint them. Sometimes you look into her studio while she paints and you watch her hands and marvel. You never know if she’s aware you do this, but if she is, she spares you the shame of being so pathetic you need to watch someone you love paint from the shadows because you were too much of a coward to commit yourself to her and you allowed yourself to slip away into the darkness of your mind.

You think everyone got it wrong, it is so easy to be fueled by hate and spite. Look around you, the world is a cruel place. To not be affected by it is a power that you almost envy. To see the bad in the world and choose to be good is something you never had and will never have. It is not in your cards so you decided to make the best of it. You miss her kind eyes and gentle laugh every day of your life, but you know it is better to live in the darkness than let your black ink slowly turn her away from the light where she belongs.

~

The day you turn 18 you buy a handgun. You used to carry it around your ankle, liking the weight of your footsteps hitting the ground. One day the ground will break under your heel. Now, as an agent, your handgun sits on your left hip. You want people to fear you, you want them to know you are dangerous. And yet, you still don’t feel safe in this cruel world. So you buy a knife. It glimmers in the light, its handle is intricately carved out of wood. You have a holder for it on your thigh for the days where you wear dresses, on days where you aim to please. On days you don’t give a fuck about anyone else, when you wear what you wish, your knife sits either in your pocket, if you are blessed with pockets, your shoe, if it fits, or the holder you bought which holds your knife nice and close to you, flesh with your back. You like the power you hold with your weapons. You learn your craft better than most. You learn accuracy, precision, strength. Throwing knives feels even better than it looks, you know you hold in both your hands the ability to take life from someone who is not worthy of it. 

~~

When you were in fifth grade, boys decided to see how fun it would be to push your buttons. You were smarter than them, faster than them. They didn't like losing to a girl, why is being a girl shameful, you asked your teacher this once. She did not answer you, you suspect she does not know. If you were the first to answer a question, and you often were, they would tease you. Try hard, was their favorite. Well maybe, if they wanted to beat you they should try harder. You told a boy this once and he grabbed your arm and called you a bitch. Your mom did not let you start taking martial arts classes. 

If they did not like your words, perhaps they would respond to physical intimidation. You preferred kicking shins, it did not result in blood and there was lots of sweet, sweet, plausible deniability. Not that they ever tried to get you in trouble, the biggest thing in the world is a man’s ego. You became meaner, colder. Your mother asks you where her sweet girl went, she does not want to hear that perhaps she never existed. No one can hurt you if you never let them in. If you carry yourself with a scowl and your words bite those who try you and you hurt those who try to hurt you. They can't, you won't let them. You are not weak like they are, you are strong. It never quite works though, the boys in your class see a challenge. Something they can beat. They challenge you loudly, in front of everything and everyone. You can no longer afford to make a mistake. If you do, they yell we beat Elle, haha we did it. The teachers watch as they attack you. Most do not care. The kind girls in your class do not experience this and maybe, just maybe, you should go back to being like them. It makes you feel vulnerable though, to be kind without question. No, they have to earn your kindness, earn your respect. Giving it out for free did not win you anything. You take the name bitch and wear it like a badge of honor. 

~~

Eventually, you fall for the propaganda of your team being a family. As an only child, you’ve sometimes wished for siblings, maybe you’ve found them. Reid is like your little brother, annoying at times, but sweet and endearing. You would cause destruction if anything happened to him. He deserves it. JJ is hard to describe as a part of your family, she reminds you of Lily with her bright eyes and kind smile. She is not Lily but you wonder if she would ever consider being with you. She is a part of this world of darkness, you might not soil her. Oh, but you would, it is selfish of you to think that you could be loved and not ruin them. Your touch is like a virus, it kills if given the chance. You will not give it another shot. 

Garcia is your sister, she is concerned about you when you risk your life in the field time, and time again, you can’t help but think she chose the wrong job. You love her, almost, and not quite. She is always sweet to you, her personality is a breath of fresh air in this world. It needs more of her and that's why you want to be close to her but can’t. Morgan is your older brother, he roughhouses with you, he won't admit it but you are just as good as him. You knew you would be, the world underestimates you, and as annoying as it is, it is your advantage. He understands you, you think he is not the only one who is afraid of loving others, of course, neither of you says anything but you never needed to. Gideon and Hotch would be your fathers but they are nothing like your father. Your father was kind and he taught you things, he gave you praise. Hotch and Gideon are cold to you, Gideon more than Hotch. They are both fathers but you feel sorrow for their children. It must hurt to know they will always be second in importance to killers, that they are not enough to be home every night for. You resent them both for hurting their children. 

~

Fresh out of college means it’s time for a career. You decide to join the FBI, the police were not enough to save your father, they are almost useless, you need to be powerful. You join the highest law enforcement in the country and you excel. Sex crimes is not a fun job, but you take pleasure in taking down men who decided to pray on women and children. They do not deserve the nice jail cells they get, but you hope they do get what's coming for them in prison. Of course, that banks on them getting jail time at all. Rape is the only crime where people can suggest that the victim enjoyed it. It is the only subjective crime. There is no enjoyable murder or robbery, victims do not ask to have their identity stolen. It fills you with more rage than you knew was available. You are close with your colleges but you are not their friends. They think you are though. You drink with them, you play games with them, you joke with them. You do not care very much about them. It is a weakness to rely on others for joy, it is foolish to attach yourself to people who are here to hold up a broken system. You also hold up that system, for now at least. You promise yourself you will never be close to your teammates. Justice has no room for friendship.

~

Gideon keeps a book of people who he has saved. You keep a book of vile men who’ve charmed the justice system, not you though, you are justice but you are not a system. Perhaps you are vengeance. 

~~

Your mother taught you to cook when you were little, Cuban food to keep your father alive in memory. As if he would smell the spices and resurrect from the dead. You continue to cook though, it's a hobby and a good one. It provides for you. Unlike Reid, Chinese take out is not your main food source. 

Never cut peppers while thinking about murder. A rule no one taught you but they most definitely should have. Your mind is full of your latest case. A pedophile who would cut the hair off his victims to make a doll of them. He wanted to keep them forever, forever young too. You cut your finger instead of the pepper. The pain does not bother you, you are far too used to it for it to impact you, in fact, if anything it makes you feel alive. There is blood dripping down your finger and you are memorized. It’s different from the blood when you were shot, this is carefully controlled. The contrast of it against your skin is divine. You’ve always thought blood was messy, the villain that comes once a month, and an inconvenience when you cut yourself shaving. You never thought it was elegant until now. You don’t want to continue to cut yourself, that was never your brand. But now, maybe after being inside the minds of men who hurt others, you wish to see their blood run down your hands. 

You clean and wash your finger, you’ll catalog and examine those thoughts for another day. You are not evil, not like that. At least you hope not. Although, what would it matter if there was one more person committing sins out there. God has lost control already, he will not control you, society will not control you. You are in control, more than you’ve ever been. 

At night you lie awake and think about what you could do to cement your newfound control. You think about the men who’ve gotten away with their heinous acts. You think that perhaps, it would feel good to kill them. For them to suffer like they made others suffer. Prison was not for them, the judges made sure of that. They say liberty and justice for all. These men have liberty but they have not found justice. You will help them find it. 

~

Not only did Randall Garner break into your house and shoot you. He had the audacity to stick his filthy finger in your bullet wound and write on the walls of your home. He wrote ‘rules’, how ironic. You’ve lived by the rules your father gave you even before he was buried in the earth. Now, you’re being punished for not following the rules of a killer. Your father’s rules were not enough to save you. It’s time you break them and make your own. 

Rule 1: Do not take shit from anyone, especially a man. If they are cruel to you, be crueler to them. This, however, does not mean to be rude to everyone. Simply, just like in middle school, people must earn your respect. Children, however, are exempt. They have not been tainted by the universe yet, they are unmarked and kind. If they are not kind, something made them that way and they deserve your kindness more than anyone else. 

Rule 2: Be smarter and be faster than everyone else. They will not catch you, they may know it's you, it's inevitable, but you will be as free as the men you will hunt. 

Rule 3: Friends are for fools, you do not need them. They will slow you down and they will try to convince you that you are wrong, that you need fixing. You can almost hear Reid telling you that you need help, that you're sick. You are not a coward, and you do not need fixing.

~

High school was not the best time of your life, but it certainly wasn't the worst. You had a tight circle of friends, you didn't quite share with each other, at least your secrets. But you cared enough about each other that it was not important that they didn't know about you. Your friends didn't need to know about your pining over the girl in your math class, that helped you out if you ever needed it and was as sharp as her jawline. You weren’t lonely and that was enough for you, you were, dare you say it, happy. You cooked for your friends on occasions, typically birthdays. You got invited to parties and learned to love the loud music and the smell of beer. You were top of your class, much to some people’s chagrin, but they couldn’t shake you. You joined debate so you could argue for a sport, and boy were you good at it. Teachers said they never met anyone as passionate as you, you didn't tell them that you carry resentment for the shallow topics they choose. There's airing on the side of apolitical and there's apathy towards others. They didn’t like you discussing your opinions, that did not stop you one bit. 

Your friend that was always a bit more plays with your hair and you think that maybe the world is kind and gentle, maybe she's right. You feel safe in her lap, her hand carding through your hair before she starts to braid it. It’s intimate in a way that makes you want to sob, no one has touched you like they aren’t afraid of you or aren’t afraid of you breaking in a very long time. You look too much like your father for your mother, and you feel disconnected from her. The two of you do not embrace. 

The ceiling above you is popcorn and if you stare long enough you imagine it’s the stars, a beautiful constellation. The world always feels so small with just the two of you. You don’t like being reminded that it is you that is small, not the world. The world is large and it is terrifying, a disheartening juxtaposition. 

~

After someone decides that maybe you shouldn't die you are rushed to the hospital. Granted, you're the one the dialed 911, you always did have to save yourself. You don’t remember much, you are so tired and you’ve lost so much blood. The medics say that they are losing you, perhaps you were never here to begin with. They administer cpr to you and you feel like your body is being crushed. It feels like they are going to kill you as they try to save your life. The next time you open your eyes you're back on the jet. You feel like you're dreaming, and then you know it can’t be real because your father is here. Your father is dead so you think that you must be too. What a cruel trick it must be to have your afterlife still consumed by your job, you are on a jet but you can not fly it. Dad calls you peanut and you almost lose it right there. The shelter you built for your heart after his loss feels like it's been shattered. You feel raw, exposed. Somehow, in his presence, you do not mind it quite so much. You’ve missed him more than you remember and you almost hope that this is real. What this is, you aren’t sure. He tells you it’s a midway point, that you have to choose whether or not you want to live. And that you must make it now. 

On the one hand, living always has been a chore. It’s peaceful here with your father. The two of you can talk about everything you’ve always wanted to talk about. You’d like to hear his thoughts on philosophy. He always was your hero.

 On the other hand, who will water your plants? You haven’t gotten to say goodbye to the bau and you haven't gotten your justice yet. 

You choose to live. 

~

When you moved into your apartment, the first thing you did after unboxing everything was to buy a plant. Your apartment looked dead, just because you were here to make your living in death and you’ve never quite felt alive, did not mean your apartment was doomed to suffer the same fate. You started small with a succulent, they were supposed to be easy to take care of. Slowly your collection grew, you were growing flowers and herbs as well. Your house has never felt more like a home than when all your plants are blooming. It gives you a purpose, something to come home for. You’d also like a cat but you know you are never home enough to sustain all its needs. Hotch has a son at home that he never sees but you suppose that he’s not as important to him as your cat would be to you. You try your hand at painting on your wall, like maybe you learned something from all the time you stared at Lily. You wonder if she still thinks of you, if she looks at the stars and remembers you. You still have the blanket she gave you. It adorns your couch and you think it might be your most prized possession. 

You consider getting a tattoo of poetry or a quote in her honor, you feel somedays like you might be obsessed with her but you also might just be in love with her still. You’ve found that there's a fine line between love, obsession, and insanity. Where you fall on the scale you aren’t sure yet and you know you don’t want to find out. You think the two of you were like the quote; ‘A sky full of stars and he was staring at her’. That first night where you walked together was exactly that. She was more beautiful than the night sky and you love the night sky. Maybe someday you’ll get that tattoo but for now, you have crimes to solve and your heart to bury. 

~

You’ve always known that other Latina women were of the more likely to be victims of sexual crimes. That didn't stop you from being shocked and having your heart break every time you saw another woman like you report a heinous crime done to her. You’ve never appreciated your mother deciding you needed to speak Spanish more than when you’ve been able to communicate in these women’s native language. Something about language makes people feel safe, at home. You think perhaps, communication is the world's greatest tool. 

~

You cut your hair like you think it will solve your problems. Like you don’t feel like murder is an option now, like you don’t resent your team for getting you shot. Like you don’t feel like every man is out to get you. At least more than they were before. For a team of gifted profilers, no one seems to notice that you are breaking. Or maybe they do and they simply don’t care that you lie awake at night wondering if your choice to live was a good one or how your blood looked on your knife that day where you accidentally cut yourself. Or maybe, you’ve gotten so used to hiding yourself that they simply think you are still the same person you were before a bullet pierced your skin. Before a man targeted you for not following his rules. Because he needed to be in control. Now he’s dead and it's your turn to be in control. They won’t notice it at first. But you will start controlling them ever so slightly. And then, then you will strike. First, you will make them think you have PTSD, after all, you’d be a prime victim to it. They will be lenient because they think you dream about your attack and not how nice it would feel to slice through the skin of a monster. They don’t know you, you've made sure of that. You’ll open up to Reid if by open you mean fake everything. You’ll tell him about the dreams you aren’t having, and that you definitely see his face everywhere you go. How your walls still feel like they are covered in your blood. Of course, that would be suspicious so first, you will be short. You will be passive-aggressive, more than normal, you will make him see that you are wrong. He will be compelled to help you, ask you what is wrong. He’s too kind to you and this world, he hasn’t quite been burned yet. He will. Maybe by you, maybe by some other man who decides he broke a rule. Someone might think he is too, a sinner. He falls right into your trap. You decide to really play up the trauma and you raid your minibar. Fourteen-year-old you was right about alcohol, it does let you float above everything, you aren’t happy but you are above everything. He knocks on your door and you pretend to be drunker than you are. After lying straight to his face while you put on yet another facade, you kick him out. Tell him that he can’t fix you. Oops, maybe that was more of the truth than you wanted him to know. 

There's a slight flaw in this new plan of yours. You were always a bit too sensitive about rapists, perhaps it's a combination of your youth, your womanhood, and the fact that you have sympathy. And rage. You are told by Hotch, who if he wasn't your boss you are sure you’d have told him to go to hell by now, to set yourself up to be an almost rape victim. They tell you that of course, it won’t happen. They’ll be watching you. Problem is you don’t trust him with your life. Shouldn’t trust him with your life, he is of course the one who loaded the gun for the man you shot you. You agree, because you have to, you can’t say no without fielding questions and avoiding pointed stares. It’s too much for you though, it's like you’re in your own personal horror movie. You turn up the music and you block out their calls. You do not want to hear from them right now. It all goes south when you accost the man who wants to take you for himself. You are reprimanded for your actions but you don’t give a single fuck. 

It's time for the next step in your plan. Justice. Or as some would call it, murder.

~

You go back to your hotel with the rest of the team so they don't suspect anything of you. They never do. Later, you’ll go for a walk to clear your head, you’ll make sure someone hears you leave. You’ll track down this son of a bitch and you’ll make sure that he doesn’t live to see another day where he can create evil. You’ve always thought the law did its job, but Hotch says that he’ll have to be let go because there isn’t enough evidence now that you’ve ruined everything. He doesn't say that in as many words. His stoic nature allows him to be ruthless without saying anything, which works for him because no one can ever call him out on subtext. If the law doesn’t care about women, you will. You corner William Lee and you point your gun at him. He smirks at you and you’re glad he does, it makes your job that much more satisfying. You fire at him. You’ve been shot at now, you know how it feels, you watch as the life in him slowly leaves his eyes and it’s more addicting than anything you’ve ever felt. His blood pours onto the pavement much like yours dripped onto your floor. You think it would be more enjoyable if you had his blood on your hands. If you could feel the life leaving him. Next time. 

The team finds you, gunshots are very loud, one more point to a knife. You tell them it was self-defense. They mistake the slight shake in your voice as fear, not adrenaline, the good kind. That's on them though. Elle Greenaway does not get scared, she creates fear. You can tell that they don’t 100% believe you, and they shouldn't, but they accept it anyway. You know someone is going to corner you after this, ask you what really happened. You decide that you’ve had enough of chasing killers. Now you’ll be the killer, being chased by them while you’re hunting rapists. 

~

Back when you were new at the BAU and JJ’s smile still gave you butterflies you wondered how they all fell so easily together. Reid and Gideon had chess, Morgan and Garcia had, whatever they had, JJ, Reid, and Morgan were like siblings, Hotch and Gideon the heads of the family. And then there was you. You didn't quite fit in, not yet at least. You wondered how they could make bonds with people that could very well be shot and killed in the coming case. How they could make themselves vulnerable to that kind of destruction. It was better to be cold, it was better to not let them in.

Too bad you always were bad at keeping your promises. You let them worm their way into your heart. It makes saying goodbye oh so much harder. Somehow, you don’t quite regret it though, it made your time amongst the blood enjoyable. Well, as enjoyable as it can be here. You still stand by your opinion that no family built on murder can be steady. It will crumble, and you will not be here to see it fall.

~

You open your booklet filled with men who make you seethe. When you were very young you assumed that monsters had a certain look to them. That they had red eyes filled with darkness, claws, to scratch you with. You thought if you saw a monster on the street you’d know it. Sadly, the monsters of the world live not in the shadows, but in the light. They are your baseball coaches and math teachers. Every time you arrested one, you heard echoes of the same flawed speech. I never suspected anything, he seemed so normal. There is no normal, it’s an illusion we hold to make ourselves feel safe in our own skin. We shouldn’t feel safe in our skin, that's what kills you. 

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch a rapist by his toes, if he hollers, let him scream, so much fun for you and me. 

Your hand picks Caden Mechein. Kansas, victim count three, blondes. You take the train, pay in cash, your hair is dyed red and you cut it to a pixie cut so you won't be quite as recognizable to Garcia. Your baseball hat and sunglasses should help with that. You’ve changed your fashion, it fulfills a fantasy you didn't know you had. You dress like a punk now, good thing your mother can’t see you she’d have a fit. You sit alone as the train fills up, no one asks to sit with you, like they know you’re dangerous. Good. You want them to be afraid of you. You stare out the window the entire trip, images flash in your head of what you're about to do. You watch the fields and fields of corn come into visions and you know it's almost time. 

After a day and a half of planning and anticipation, you’ve arrived in Topeka. It’s a nice place, different from the east coast. People are friendlier here, you��ve heard about the midwestern nice but it’s different to actually experience a stranger smiling at you while you walk down the street. The darkness conceals you like you conceal the knife on your hip, hidden behind your leather jacket. You have latex gloves in your pocket because as much as you would love to feel his blood on your hands you aren’t going to risk leave fingerprints

You reach Caden’s house, his lights are off, he’s asleep. Perfect. You will kill him in his own home just like you were almost killed in yours. You jimmy the lock, breaking a window is too loud, too suspicious you do not want him to know you’re coming. Suspense is key for murder, it builds up in their heart and makes it just that much better when they see the knife in your hand. Or you’d think, it is your first kill after all. 

You make your way into this sicko’s home, you find his bedroom. And you knock on the door. He curses like Jesus Christ will save him from you, he is no match for you. He is out of bed now, he’s asking you what you want. Your blood, you answer him. He pales, just like he’ll look when his blood is drained from his neck. You corner him in the corner of his room and you bring your knife out from your holster. It glimmers in the moonlight, because he feels so safe and secure in his room that he sleeps with a curtain open. Well, felt safe, you doubt he’s very secure with you spinning the knife in front of his face. Why are you doing this, he pleads with you like that will make you walk out of the room right here and abandon your plans. Men always were stupid and arrogant. You tell him that he knows exactly why, that this is his comeuppance for what he did to those girls. 

Enough is enough, time to get what you want. You grasp the knife, marveling in its weight, in one bold stroke you slice his neck open. The blood gushes, it does not touch you, you made sure to step back before the flooding began. You watch mesmerized as the floor begins to stain crimson. Caden gasps for air, his feet give out and he falls on the floor. His head hits the wall with a satisfying thud. Eventually, the bleeding stops and you walk away, leaving his corpse to cool before it burns in hell.

Once upon a time, you would have added a signature, perhaps a Birdsfoot Trefoil, signifying revenge. That would be too clean and sweet for the police so you don’t give them it. You wonder how long it will take them to realize that this is the work of a vengeful woman. You hope it doesn't take long, you want the world to see your wrath.

~

Just like you suspected when you returned home from William Lee’s case, Hotch pulls you into his office. You can see the anger in his eyes and you know then and there that he could kill you with his bare hands and not think twice about it. He is angry because he knows what you’ve done, he’s a firm believer that the law does no wrong and he is a coward.

“Elle, I need to know if you murdered William Lee.”

 You scoff at him, “of course not, who do you think I am?” He does not reply and you think that says more than if he had written a thesis about you.

“No Hotch, I didn’t commit cold-blooded murder while on the clock for the FBI”, 

You both know that that isn’t true, only one of you is sure.

“Why do you care about him anyway? Relate to him, maybe?”

“Do not throw those kinds of accusations at me, Agent Greenaway.”

He throws your official title as a way of saying that you are no longer his friend, lucky for you never once thought he was, you are not in the habit of befriending men who would see your death as inevitable. You know that this is the end of your stay at the federal bureau of investigation. Might as well go out with a bang. 

“Right, of course, my bad. Forgot you think you’re better than everyone else. I have news for you Hotch, you’re a shit father and a terrible husband. You never see your family, you’re so caught up in the high of catching killers your son barely knows who you are. I don’t think you’re any better than the men we catch”

“Elle, I understand you are still recovering from what happened to you but you can not speak to me this way. You’re suspended two weeks without pay, and are pending investigation”

He uses your name now because he knows you are right, he wants you to see him as the good man he sees in the mirror. You want his mirror to crack under what it sees.

“What happened to me? Oh yeah, when you let me get shot because you don’t give a fuck about me or any of the women on this team. I'm not suspended, I’m never coming back to this hell hole. I quit,”

You leave your badge and your gun on his desk. You won’t be needing them.

~

You ride the high of your first kill like you the first time you got high in highschool. You feel powerful, and like you’ve done the right thing. Out of curiosity, you check the news on your train to Nevada, they don’t mention Caden’s sins. They make him a saint that died as a tragedy not out of righteousness. You’ll make sure they know the sins of your next body.

After you slice this one's throat, you’ll dip your finger in his throat much like Randall Garner did to you, and write ‘scum’ on his forehead. He does not deserve honor in his death, he deserves shame.

~

Your body count racks up and you’ve never felt both powerful and powerless. You are making a difference, these men who think themselves above the law are finding that they are not above your law. The look on their faces when they understand what’s coming for them is a thing of elegance. When they see all 5’8 of you and realize that they will lose to a woman. Their crimes have not been forgotten, will never be forgiven, and now they will die because of them. They hurt women so now they will be hurt by a woman. 

Every day you read the news about another man who you must add to your list and you are disheartened. You are sick of this tango for one. You long for the days of your past when you were happy. Those days are over though, this is your job now and you do it well. You do this for all the past versions of you, some more innocent, some more jaded, all you, all beautiful. For every girl who has ever felt victimized by a man who considers himself mighty. For every girl who still lives in bliss about what the men around her are capable of. You will try to make sure she never learns. You do this for every beautiful, broken girl and so that there needs not to be more of you, this club needs no more members. It’s time they make a new club for girls who are happy, you wish you could have been one of them. 

Spanish translation (I am not a native spanish speaker forgive me for any errors):

'Fueron la cosa favorita de tu papá, cariño. Lo echo de menos cada dia.' It was your father's favorite thing sweetheart. I miss him every day

'Sea bilingual mija, los estudios dicen que es buena para tu cerebro. ¿No quises saber la lengua materna de sus ancestros?' You should be bilingual my daughter, the studies say it's good for your brain. Don't you want to know the mother tongue of your ancestors?

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#elle greenaway #Elle greenaway fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #lucy's fics! #mine! #criminal minds #let me know what you think! 🥺

[felicia-cat-hardy]

Max Minghella On 'The Handmaid's Tale,' His Dad, Romance, &amp; 'Spiral'

Max Minghella is sitting in his backyard in the LA sunshine, his t-shirt an homage to the French filmmaker Mia Hansen-Løve, his adopted shepherd mix, Rhye, excited by the approach of a package courier.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks — the dog, not me — tenderly.

Minghella, who at 35 has dozens of screen credits to his name, is best known as The Handmaid’s Tale’s cunning chauffeur Nick Blaine, a character who it’s difficult to imagine saying sweetheart. In airless Gilead, of course, a cautious hand graze with Elisabeth Moss’ June can pass for a big romantic gesture. In a Season 1 episode featuring child separation and hospital infant abduction, Nick’s major contribution is to trade stolen glances with a sex slave while “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” pumps discordantly along. I ask Minghella about playing the series’ closest approximation to a dreamy male lead against the show’s dark narrative of female subjugation.

“I know this is not the answer you want to hear,” Minghella says with none of Nick’s hesitation. “But I like that stuff, right? In the pilot, I think Nick only had a handful of lines. It wasn't clear that this is what the character would turn into. And it's quite fortunate for me personally, because I'm not a massively sort of intellectual person in my real life. I love Fifty Shades of Grey. That's like my Star Wars. It suits me to play a character like him.”

Minghella surmises that this enduring romanticism is an outcome of nurture. His father, the late British director Anthony Minghella, made grand romantic dramas like Cold Mountain and The English Patient. And there was the young, cinema-mad Max sitting on the living room sofa, absorbing everything. “It’s taken me a long time to understand this,” he says of his prolonged childhood exposure to love stories. “My dad made The English Patient when I was 10. So it was two years of watching the dailies to that movie and then watching 50 cuts of it. And then [The Talented Mr.] Ripley he made when I was 13, and it was the same thing.” These were an adolescent Max Minghella’s alternative to reruns. “I think they did shape my perspective on the world in a lot of ways, specifically The English Patient. That was a complicated love story, and I wonder sometimes how much it's affected my psychology.”

Some sons rebel; others resemble. Minghella’s co-star O-T Fagbenle, who plays June’s other lover from before the time of Gilead, got his first job acting in Anthony Minghella’s romantic crime film Breaking and Entering. “Anthony is one the kindest, most beautiful men that I've ever had the privilege of working with before,” Fagbenle says. “And Max has his gorgeous, sensitive, open-minded soul.”

Though Minghella spent his childhood on the set of The Talented Mr. Ripley, playing an uncredited Confederate soldier role in Cold Mountain, and tooling around with a Super-8 camera Matt Damon gave him, he insists his upbringing was normal. He grew up in South Hill Park overlooking Hampstead Heath in London with his father and mother, the choreographer Carolyn Choa. (Minghella also has a half-sister, Hannah Minghella, who is now a film executive.) Yes, technically, it was London, but that’s not how it seemed. “I feel like I grew up in a very small town. Every school I went to was in Hampstead. I was born in Hampstead,” Minghella says of the small map dot of his life before university. “When I went to New York, I felt I was going to the big city.”

Despite his illustrious surname, movie-watching was far from restricted to the classics. “Beverly Hills Cop is definitely the movie I remember having an unhealthy obsession with. I think I saw it when I was 5 for the first time, and I'd watch it just two or three times a day for years. I'm just obsessed with it.”

Plenty of actors can trace their love of movies back to a love of stories, but for Minghella the relationship seems to flow in reverse. When he left for Columbia University, Minghella opted to study history for its connection, through storytelling, to film. It was during the summers between his years of college that he started taking acting more seriously. Before his graduation, he’d already appeared in Syriana, starring Damon and George Clooney. Soon, he’d make a splash as Divya Narendra in The Social Network in 2010 and be cast in Clooney’s Ides of March. As all young actors eventually must, Minghella moved to Los Angeles.

It’s been over a decade since he last lived on the Heath, but, perhaps unusually for a person who’s chosen his profession, Minghella is adamantly not a “shapeshifter,” in his words. Home for Christmas this year, he started sifting through old journals stored at his mother’s house, “just like scraps of writing from when I was extremely young up through my teenage years,” before coming to America. “It was hilarious to me,” Minghella says of staring at his childhood reflection. “My review of a movie at 7 years old is pretty much what my review of a movie at 35 will be. My taste hasn't changed much. And when I sort of love something, I do tend to continue to love it.”

Which brings us back to his enduring love of romance, born of his bloodline, which is all over Minghella’s own 2018 directorial debut. Teen Spirit is a hazily lit film about a teenage girl from the Isle of Wight — the remote British island where Max’s father Anthony was born — who enters a local X-Factor-style singing competition. (It stars Minghella’s rumored girlfriend of several years, Elle Fanning.) The story is small, but its crescendos are epic.

Minghella calls the movie — an ode to the power of the pop anthem — “embarrassingly Max.” Max loves a good music-driven movie trailer — he’s watched the one for Top Gun: Maverick “many” times. And Max loves the rhythmic beats of sports movies like Friday Night Lights. Max loves movies with excesses of female energy, like Spring Breakers. He likens Teen Spirit to an experiment, his answer to the question, “Can I take all these things that I love and find a structure that can hold them?” The result is a touching “hodgepodge” of Minghella’s fascinations, inspired by the songs from another thing he loves: Robyn’s 2010 album Body Talk (itself a dance-pop meditation on love).

Minghella hasn’t directed any films since, but he sees now how making movies fits his personality — organized, impatient — more organically than starring in them does. Directing also helped him to appreciate that acting is “much harder than I was giving it credit for,” which, in turn, has made him like it more. Besides The Handmaid’s Tale currently airing on Hulu, Minghella appears in Spiral, the ninth installment in the Saw horror franchise and, from where I’m sitting, at least, a departure.

“I do like horror movies, but the thing that was really kind of magical is that I was feeling so nostalgic, right? We talked about Beverly Hills Cop earlier. I was just missing a certain kind of movie,” Minghella explains of his new role as Chris Rock’s detective partner. He was yearning for simple story-telling, like in the buddy cop movies of his youth, especially 48 Hours. It almost goes without saying that a buddy cop movie is another kind of love story. “And then I read the script and it was very much in that vein.” He clarifies: “I mean, it's also extremely Saw. It's very much a horror movie.”

His renewed excitement for acting translated onto The Handmaid’s Tale set, too. Veteran Hollywood producer Warren Littlefield describes casting Minghella in the role of Nick as an effortless choice: “Sometimes you agonize over things. [Casting Minghella] was instantly clear to me, and everyone agreed.” Now in its fourth season, the tone of the Hulu hit is graver than ever. Gilead is more desperate to maintain its rule, and so more audacious in its violence. Perhaps it’s fitting that the show’s romantic gestures finally match that scale.

In one particularly soaring moment, Elisabeth Moss’ June and Minghella’s Nick meet at the center of a bridge and crush into a long kiss. It’s been two seasons since they held their newborn daughter together, and it’s hard to see how this isn’t their last goodbye. Littlefield, like Minghella, is here for the romance among the rubble. “It's spectacular when they come together. In the middle of all of the trauma is this epic love story,” he says. “Max is just magnificent in the role.”

For Minghella, the satisfaction is more personal. He works with good people, he likes his scenes, and he thinks Nick is a complex character. Minghella read The Handmaid’s Tale for the first time in college in 2005. Like all the things Minghella has ever liked, he still likes it. He’s as proud of this most recent season as he is the show’s first. And he watched Nick and June race recklessly back to each other across the expanse of the screen exactly how you might expect. “I watched it like a fan girl.”

Get Relationship Advice Here

[voreconnoisseur]

In terms of fearplay regarding vore (since i can see some brothers doing it) how would the Obey Me brothers react to an MC who didnt react so well to it? Like they start to cry once it is all said and done or during the scaring? (I know if anyone tried vore fearplay with me irl i would break down in tears immediately- anxiety can be a bich ) I imagine it may lead to soft moments considering the Obey Me brothers didnt ACTUALLY mean to freak them out-

(omg omg this is my first headcanon ask ty!!)

I’ll work off the assumption that MC and the brother in question had agreed to try fearplay for fun ahead of time time, and only in the middle of actually doing it does MC back out.

Some of these got a little long near the end 😅

Lucifer:

He’s super into fearplay. He craves the feeling of holding power over people, so this is right up his alley.

Because of how invested he is, he gets a little carried away with it and doesn’t realize that MC’s pleas to stop are actually real.

He’s rolling them around in his mouth with his tongue when he realizes they’ve gone limp and are sobbing quietly.

Immediately spits MC out gently into his hand and asks them if they’re ok.

He’s embarrassed he didn’t figure it out sooner and avoids ever going into fearplay discussion territory again.

Mammon:

He used to talk a lot about MC being nothing but “a lowly human, just demon food”

So it hits a kind of a sore spot when he says this right as he’s dangling MC over his open mouth.

He notices the look on MC’s face immediately and pulls them away, slapping a hand over his mouth. He becomes a blabbering mess: “Ya–ya know I didn’t MEAN that, MC!!”

Eventually when they’re both calmed down, he blushes and tells MC that since they’re HIS human, he’d NEVER throw them away by treating them like a snack. It cheers MC up seeing Mammon say such a Mammon thing.

Leviathan:

Levi isn’t actually bad at role playing, but he’s not great at fearplay AT ALL, so MC is fine with everything that happens, giggling to themselves all the while at his poor attempts.

The problem is that once MC is IN his stomach, he says “Oh, just a sec, there’s a Mononoke Land raid going on!” and then proceeds to go mostly silent as he games intensely. He isn’t paying MC any attention at all.

Eventually this starts to get to them. Are they really just a snack to be forgotten? And Levi’s trash attempts at role play earlier suddenly seem like the most serious thing in the world. MC starts to freak out and goes apeshit on his stomach walls.

“MC, what’s wrong?” he asks, spitting them out immediately. “Owwww...”

MC is relieved to see Levi still cares about them, and was just HEAVILY distracted as usual. Eventually, they’re able to chill with MC in Levi’s tum while he games for long periods of time—no fearplay involved, and he tries to remember to talk to them more.

Satan:

You would think that as the Avatar of Wrath, he’d be great at fearplay, but he can’t really take it seriously when it’s with MC, since he has no intention of ever hurting them.

Even though his delivery is a bit lacklustre, though, it’s the words themselves that come out of his mouth that disturb MC. His threats are terrifyingly descriptive and gory.

By the time MC hits his throat, the imagery is really starting to get to them psychologically. Lucky for them, Satan is smart and had the idea for a safeword, which MC stammers right as they splash down into his gut.

He coughs up MC who then explains what happened. They agree to tone it down for next time and stick to comedic fearplay rather than straight up horror.

Asmodeus:

Asmo is surprisingly, scarily good at fearplay.

Not only has he done fearplay-like role play before in *other settings*, his normally self absorbed yet upbeat personality hides a dark side.

Which makes it terrifying for MC, because they can really picture him doing all these terrible things he says he might do! He’s just threatened to snap their spine between his teeth, and has placed MC right between his jaws and gently squeezed, when MC starts hyperventilating.

Asmo can always tell when someone isn’t into what he’s doing, and it’s no fun when one party isn’t happy.

He spits out MC and wraps them in a little towel. He seems a bit disappointed, but MC eventually suggests they do something else together, like letting him do their hair, and he’s immediately back to his usual flirty self.

After being doted on by Asmo in his Self Care Mode, MC feels much less shaken up.

Beelzebub:

Beel doesn’t even really have to try with fearplay. He’s a big guy with a sort of resting grumpy face, and when he says he wants to eat something, he actually does mean it.

He’s not overtly cruel; he’s not very good at that. All he does is say something like “Finally, you’ll be my meal for real this time...” and it makes MC panic.

Beel is FAST, though, and MC has already been eaten before they can even say anything. They start to struggle inside him, crying to be let out.

MC is scared that Beel won’t let them go, and that this is all just an excuse to get a human as a snack. In their panic, they forget just how much Beel actually cares about them.

When he spits MC out, Beel looks like he’s about to cry. Just looking at him, MC knows that they were wrong, and that Beel would always put them above food. They only hesitate a second before giving them a huge hug.

Beel is also sad that his tummy is now empty. The two of them go raid the kitchen together, and make massive ice cream sundaes.

Belphegor:

He’s not sure why MC asked him of all people to do this with.

But he gives it a go anyway, and he’s not bad at it.

However, MC suddenly has a flashback to the time Belphegor had tried to kill them, back before things got sorted out between him and Lucifer.

It’s not really to do with what Belphie’s saying right now, but MC is reliving that feeling of him actually, truly wanting them dead.

“This was a bad idea,” he says, and lets go of MC. He asks MC if he should leave, or go get someone, but MC refuses.

They need to know that he cares about them in the present.

So Belphie takes them to go curl up in front of the sofa and watch a movie together in a massive pile of blankets.

He’d probably be napping a little better with a full stomach, but he sleeps just fine in front of the TV with MC draped over him.

#yandereskies #replies #vore talk #shall we vore #my fic #implied g/t vore #but i tried to do some same size implications too #just imagine your pick #soft vore #safe vore #fearplay #canon character

[daredevile]

BOOK RECS!

Well, I read a bunch of books during the quarantine and most of them were great! So, if you're looking for something within these genres - mystery/thriller, sci-fi, romance and horror - I got your back :) Also, my favourite genres are mystery/thriller and sci-fi which is why those lists are huge. Everything is linked to Goodreads, go check out the blurbs but, watch out for those reviews with spoilers!! 

THE SILENT PATIENT - Love, love, love this book - second favourite of all time! Seemingly innocent woman randomly shoots her husband in the face and never speaks again. And we primarily follow a criminal psychotherapist's perspective as he uncovers details about the why, the how and much, much more. If you're into human psychology and are a mystery/thriller aficionado in general, READ THIS BOOK. Also, has one of the best plot twists ever!

THE TURN OF THE KEY - The story follows a very unfortunate and young nanny who ends up being accused of murdering a child in her care. No parents in the obscenely technology-controlled house that malfunctions all of a sudden. Ah, the horrors of digitalisation. And she's neither innocent nor guilty. The atmosphere created by the author is truly remarkable and you cannot stop reading. I'm warning you. Prepare to be absorbed for a few hours because this is one chair-gripping story.

THE ONE - We're getting into the Black Mirror zone here. DNA tests that pair people with their genetically matched soulmates. What could possibly go wrong? Hint: one of the characters is a murderer - don't worry that's not a spoiler! Everyone has their secrets and issues and have to navigate through a complicated mess that morphs into a different problem for each character. Have they found The One?

GONE GIRL - Do I even need to explain?

EIGHT PERFECT MURDERS - We got a killer who replicates murders from fictional books and the FBI enlist the help of a bookstore owner to solve the case. Quite entertaining and major book-nerd vibes from this one. Not gonna lie, this started phenomenally but fell a little short with the ending. Still worth the read though! Also, it spoils a few classic, well-known books [ listed on Goodreads ], if you're planning to read any of those, I'd advise you to finish them before starting this one.

THE KIND WORTH KILLING - I'd say this's the better Peter Swanson novel out of these two. Quite Gone Girl-esque in nature but equally well-written and amazing! It's a type of story that makes you question humans and our moral code. Think intense Tom and Jerry with 200% more stress, nail-biting moments and of course, murders.

AND THEN THERE WERE NONE - A classic whodunit. Who doesn't love those? Group of people trapped in a remote island and one by one they drop dead in mysterious ways. Everyone seems like the killer, but who is actually behind these murders? Edge-of-the-seat feels with this one! And as the group becomes smaller and smaller, the criminal gets closer and closer till there are none.

LONG BRIGHT RIVER - This one delves into quite sensitive themes and topics such as addiction, struggles with withdrawal and ultimately, the devastation caused by it all. The relationship between the two sisters is portrayed with powerful emotional language and it's truly heartbreaking. Tension arises when one sister goes missing the same time when murders occur in the area. Not an easy read by any means but an exceptional story indeed.

NO EXIT - Four strangers stranded at a secluded highway rest stop and one of them has kidnapped a little girl and locked her in the van. And our main character has no means of communicating with anyone but has to figure out how to save the child from the psychopath. This has thriller written all over it! My stress levels were through the roof but, the action and the twists just blew my mind! Love this book!

LOCK EVERY DOOR - Creepy high-end hotel. Check. Disappearing people. Check. Dark secrets. Check, check, check! Again, another author who perfectly conjured a ghostly ambience as the plot thickens and the main character is so close to the killer. I'll be honest, I was scared at some parts. But it was a good kinda scared, you know. 100% will read again!

DARLING ROSE GOLD - Sounds like a cute story right? Don't be fooled by the title. This twisted mother-daughter story evokes an unsettling feeling as we follow both the daughter, who became overwhelmingly ill due to malnutrition and her abusive mother, who recently got released from prison. I found the narrative style to be very unique as they're both unlikable characters with hidden motives beneath their now-tolerant attitudes to each other. In other words: this book is CRAZY AND GOOD!

DARK MATTER - This is my favourite book. Ever. Written by one of my favourite authors. Ever. It's the perfect blend of a seemingly confusing narrative, a true mind-fuck, thought-provoking themes, slightly disturbing yet very much stress-inducing plot progression - in short: I love it!

SCYTHE - The premise caught my attention and it didn't disappoint at all! This universe is remarkably built through Shusterman's compelling imagery and mystery revolving around a Scythe's morals, ethics and concerns with their profession as they have to randomly kill people due to overpopulation. And good news, this is a series!

THE PASSENGERS - Listen, if you like Black Mirror-y stories, then you're gonna love this one! It's set in a world that's transitioning from manual to autonomous vehicles where eight driverless cars are hacked and programmed to collide in one location at a specific time! Initially, keeping up with so many POVs was challenging, but, it's completely worth it and possibly one of the most stressful books I've read in a while. John Marrs just understands writing.

THE TEST - This one's a short story - a hundred pages or so, yet thoroughly entertaining and has an intriguing plotline. Again, kinda gives Black Mirror vibes and jumps straight into the action. It's also severely messed up and horrible to think about. Dives into human behaviour and psychology in terrible this or that scenarios. Definitely one of my favourites! Are you sensing a pattern?

WE ARE THE ANTS - Alien abduction? The world in danger? And the fate of it rests upon a hesitant teenage boy's shoulders? Caught my attention. The plot is quite touching, emotionally-driven and weaves through several heavy issues such as depression, suicide, bullying and marginalisation, however, lightens up around wholesome themes like love, family and friendship. Great story and also, the book cover is pretty cool!

RED, WHITE AND ROYAL BLUE - Yet another book that needs no introduction. Just read it fam. No regrets!

THE UNHONEYMOONERS - Looking for the fluffiest of fluff story ever? Here ya go! Christina Lauren has nailed the romance genre and this one's nothing short of spectacular. Humour, wit and banter are smoothly intertwined into both main characters who hate each other with a passion... for a little while. Also features the classic and unsurprisingly entertaining hate to love trope!

THE HATING GAME - Can't seem to get enough of this enemies to lovers trope! Hilarious writing paired with two lovable characters - definitely a mood-booster. Just the mere chemistry between the characters as you experience their both funny and tender moments is *chef's kiss*.

THEY BOTH DIE AT THE END - Another favourite! A tear-jerker that's incredibly raw and thought-provoking. It explores the connection between two strangers spending their End Day with meaningful conversations, dealing with love and loss and going on that one last adventure before - well, you know how it ends.

PET SEMATARY - If you're into severely disturbing and horrific imagery spiralling through your mind - okay, why would you do that to yourself? Major theme of death described in a terrifying and a very Stephen King manner. Personally, I found the writing to be a little boring but still eerie, however, my friends and a lot of other readers love this book! To each their own, I guess?

THE CABIN AT THE END OF THE WORLD - Two words. Home invasion. This book made me question all the fundamental things in life and the writing speaks volumes! Filled with subtle symbolism and allusions to real societies and how they operate under crises. Possible heartbeat escalation, intense moments laced with undertones of sadness for the family. Gets straight into the action and it's utterly overwhelming. I don't read much horror but this is probably one of the best [ though some have contradicting opinions ]!

I spent a lot of time making this, so reblogs are very much appreciated! Hope you found something interesting :D

#book recs #book recommendations #books #lit #literature #mystery #thriller #scifi #romance #horror #arya.txt

[maryabmurphy]

Blog Post #2

For a very long time, I avoided watching American Psycho because I had seen the scene where Patrick Bateman murdered Paul Allen and I felt that through watching that singular scene, I’d already watched the movie. There were times when I wanted to get a sense of what the movie was about and I read the Wikipedia page about it, so I had already spoiled it for myself before actually watching it. Then there was the scene of Bateman talking in depth about Genesis (one of my all-time favorite bands) and I knew it was really good. 

The ending is a bit confusing in the sense that during the whole movie, it’s supposed to be apparent that Patrick Bateman is murdering all of these people but near the end, no one believes him. Not a single person. This is most notable when he goes to Paul Allen’s apartment to clean it out, I presume, but it’s empty and there is a real estate agent there trying to sell it. She tells Bateman that he “shouldn’t be there”, but that is the only person to somewhat acknowledge what he had done.

In an article by Cinema Blend, they describe the ending in such a way that when put into words, it really makes no sense. When Bateman presumingly kills Paul Allen, he makes sure to leave a voicemail saying that he went to London for business. He confesses to his lawyer about murdering him, but his lawyer refutes this by saying that he had seen Allen in London, while calling Bateman someone else’s name. Clearly this is confusing for all parties involved. It’s completely plausible that he killed all of those prostitutes but he most likely didn’t actually kill Paul Allen. It was all just a really vivid false reality; Bateman’s just imagining what he could do to Paul Allen.

The ending of Bong-Joon-Ho’s Parasite is almost as confusing as the ending of Mary Hatton’s film. Parasite tells the story of two families of totally different economic backgrounds, but they both consist of parents, one boy and one girl. 

The Kim family folds pizza boxes for a living and lives in a semi-basement. They use the smoke from the public fumigation as free disinfectant. Their luck seems to turn around when the son, Ki-woo, lands a job tutoring the daughter of the wealthy Park family (Vulture). The Kim family ten begins to infiltrate the household by pretending to only know each other through vague networks: Ki-jung becomes an art therapist for the boy Da-sung, Chung-sook the mother becomes the housekeeper, and Ki-taek the father as the driver. There’s another plot twist when it’s revealed that the original housekeeper for the Park family, Mun-kwang, was keeping her husband, Kun-sae, in the basement of the large house for four years. 

Some stuff goes down, and Kun-sae comes out of the basement during Da-sung’s birthday party and stabs Ki-jung, the boy faints and the parents demand that Ki-taek drive them to the hospital, even as their own daughter is bleeding to death. Their lives are still constrained by servitude, and that they work merely at the whims of their employer (Vulture). Ki-taek then stabs the wealthy Park patriarch and runs away. He hides in the bunker, the last place the police would look for him and a wealthy German family ends up buying the house. The particularities may have changed, but everyone’s station has remained the same. There would always be another wealthy person to live upstairs, just as there would be another poor person positioned beneath them.

These two movies are definitely worlds apart in terms of almost everything. They both have ambiguous endings and they involve murder, but other than that they don’t have much in common. The ambiguity of both ends definitely helps both movies because it allows for conversation people probably otherwise wouldn’t have.

Patrick Bateman is described as a materialistic, self-absorbed, wealthy playboy but underneath the surface, he is filled with violent impulses and insecurity (Course Hero). This is important to the ambiguity of the ending because although it was evident that he murdered all of these people, no one believes him because of his social status, so the viewer is forced to make assumptions for themselves; did Bateman actually kill those people?

Personally, movies like this never really interested me because psychological horror is my favorite movie genre, I don’t like confusing endings like this and mostly because I am horrible at reading between the lines. I always think too critically about the endings and would much prefer they would outright say what happened; but that’s what makes a movie a movie, audience speculation.

Parasite is a totally different beast in my eyes. While the ending was ambiguous, it was a whole lot more clearer than American Psycho in the sense that Ki-woo has a very clear idea on what he wants to do if he were not in the position he was in at the end of the movie. He wants to buy the Parks’ house so he can see his father again, but obviously that won’t happen after what Ki-taek did.

[mistahstroke]

❝ D E AT H S T R O K E  ❞  … LOADING FILE …

x

S L A D E  J O S E P H  W I L S O N ;

Full Name: Slade Joseph Wilson

Alias: Deathstroke

Age: 54

Gender: Male

Birth date: ████████

Birth Place: ████████ ████████

Current Residence: Manhattan, New York City

S L A D E  J O S E P H  W I L S O N ;

Hair: White

Eyes: Dark Brown

Disabilities: Blindness in one eye, Right

Build: Muscular, Super Soldier Physique

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: American

Alignment: Neutral, actions can be conclusive to a Villain

Identity: Secret/Not Secret, depends on the individual

S L A D E  J O S E P H  W I L S O N ;

Education: ██ ████ ███████ ██████ ██ █████████

Family: ██████ ██████, mother, deceased Charles Wilson, father, deceased (Killed by Slade) Wade Defarge, half-brother, deceased Adeline Kane, ex-wife, deceased ███████ ██████, mother of rose, alive Grant Wilson, son, deceased Rose Wilson, daughter, alive Joseph Wilson, son, alive

Marital Status: Divorced

Employment (Former): ██████ ██ █████████, Mercenary,  Bounty Hunter, Gun for Hire, US Army

Employment (Current): Bounty Hunter, Mercenary for Hire

Affiliation(s): ██████ ██ █████████, US Army, ███████ █████

Preferred Weapons: Promethium Broad Sword, various guns, knives, and grenades

Equipment: Varies. Sometimes, the Ikon Suit which absorbs kinetic energy. Or Armored Suit with chain metal armor underneath, belts and straps packed with ammunition, knives, grenades, and various other weaponry. Broad sword made of promethium, attached to back. Helmet or mask hides half of his face, because of blindness in right eye. (Picture attached) and (Picture attached)

Abilities:  -Expert Combatant in various forms of combat (martial arts, unarmed combat, etc) -Master marksman in various firearms -Master in weaponry (particularly in swordsmanship and firearms) -Tactical Analysis -Acrobatics -Stealth

Powers: -Super Soldier Physiology (enhanced senses particularly of hearing and smell, enhanced agility, enhanced durability, enhanced reflexes, enhanced speed, enhanced stamina, enhanced strength) -Enhanced Intellect (subject uses 90% of his brain) -Accelerated healing

P A S T

Slade Wilson was born on ████████ in ████████ ████████ to Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. His mother was “weak”, he said, and his father abandoned him as a child. Charles Wilson, a former CIA agent, was believed to be on a mission when he’d gone missing, but no record of the mission was ever recorded, nor found. Charles was later found, defected to the ██████ ██ █████████. He had become something called Odysseus. Slade later found him and killed him. He still believes Charles left because he chose to, and Slade doesn’t seem to remember his half-brother.

Slade has shown in his intellect and personality, that he is an individual capable of survival. His father’s abandonment and unstable home may be why, but it’s not conclusive. Slade may have always been independent. However it may be, Slade Wilson was determined to enlist in the U.S. Army. Later, it was found Slade had lied about his age on his papers, and ran away from home. Instead of being discharged, he was told to stay. His talents and skills in guerrilla warfare were far superior than any other soldier they’d ever seen. He was tested over and over and promoted over and over by his superiors.

His ex-wife, Adeline Kane, was an Army Squadron Leader and instructor, who eventually trained Slade and took him under her wing. He impressed her, demonstrating his combat and skills, while high marks by Kane were left in this profile. In surveillance, you can see his fighting style sometimes resembles Kane’s style. What we did not anticipate was how dangerous their relationship would be. Slade would be promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, and sometime later Slade married Kane. They would divorce, we don’t know why.

His first son, Grant Wilson, would become the first recorded Ravager. We’re not sure what happened, other than Slade finished his contract, after Grant was killed. The death of his son clearly affected him, to the point that he won’t talk about it. His second son, Joseph Wilson, also appears to be a heavy subject, but he is be more willing to talk about Joseph. “Joey” he said, in a psychological evaluation. Joseph Wilson is mute. Maybe Slade had something to do with Joseph’s disability….we don’t know. But Slade has shown signs of guilt, for both his sons. Grant and Joseph Wilson are children from his first marriage to Adeline Kane.

His daughter, Rose Wilson, was born out of wedlock. Her mother, ███████ █████, Slade appeared to have relations with, while on assignment. He won’t say he abandoned Rose, most likely due to the comparison to his father. Because she was raised without her father, it may appear that way. Rose would go on to take up the mantle as Ravager. We don’t know how many there are. From surveillance, she is the one he communicates with, the most, of his family. They don’t always get along, or not at all, understandably. Slade appears to have a disconnect with his children. Just as he is disconnected with everyone else.

Slade was a good soldier. Excellent soldier. The perfect soldier. His superiors asked him to volunteer for a secret medical experiment that was said to be a defense against the enemy’s Truth Serum. He agreed. It was really our attempt to make metahuman super-soldiers. He was lied to - but he was the perfect candidate. Something else we hadn’t anticipated: a violent response to the serum. It broke his mind and body, then built him back up. Stronger than before. But that would happen later. The immediate results were Slade’s more aggressive, violent, and enraged behavior. This aggression would remain with him, long after the experiment ended. Slade would go on to continue this as Deathstroke…

We deemed the experiment a failure, and Slade was limited to a desk job. We continued to monitor him, but what was the point? We thought. Our experiment had failed, until it hadn’t. Enhanced, to a human’s peak, we did it. We did it. Accelerated healing healed what else was left, and our perfect soldier was made even better. Slade’s enhanced mind allowed him to use 90% of his brain, and has shown, together in combat and completing his “contracts”. We made a weapon…that even we couldn’t handle. His mind remained broken. Even though we made him smarter, stronger, his mental stability, emotions, crumbled. We wouldn’t call it crazy, we’d call it violent. All Slade has now is aggression, a violent streak, and blood lust. He still has some sort of sense of humor, but we would highly advise citizens to avoid all contact with this man. He is unstable. We’re not sure if humor or violence will unleash out of him, next.

We’re not sure what happened. We were told Slade was discharged, disobeying orders, trying to save another soldier. Wintergreen, his friend. Slade disappeared, becoming what we only know now as Deathstroke.

P R E S E N T

We now have somewhat of a picture of what Slade has been up to. He’s made several enemies of heroes and villains, in Gotham alone. Enemies of the Justice League,  ██████ ██ █████████, and the Titans alike, though he seems to have a personal history with the latter. He is a formidable foe against the Batman, and vice versa. The mobs are afraid of him, but almost incessantly ask for his business. The citizens are oblivious, only knowing him simply as Slade Wilson. Slade has built a system of “contracts” as Deathstroke, research has shown, offering his “services” for monetary value. He is a very weathly man. His rates must be high. 

Physically, he’s gotten better. Mentally, he’s gotten worse.

CLASSIFIED: Although this information is classified and has been redacted throughout this file, for classified reasons, if you can read this, then you have been granted access to this information. If you need to know everything about Slade Wilson, then you have to know about one of the most dangerous groups in the world, the League of Assassins. Created and headed by Ra’s Al Ghul, the League of Assassins are an army of assassins, mercenaries, some of the world’s greatest martial artists, who’s sole purpose is to eliminate evil in the world. They are not superheroes. They’ve had questionable tactics as to how they’ve tried to achieve their goals, and questionable team members too. We’re not sure if Ra’s still heads the organization, we’re not sure if they even still exists. But Slade was once a member. We don’t know why he would join the group, whether power or boredom, it’s important to note because our weapon made it through, he survived the League. This information also makes him a much more violent asset, be careful if your group tries to bring him in.

CLASSIFIED: Slade rejoined the League of Assassins once more, but information told us it was forced. An ultimatum of some sort, we don’t know. Only Slade knows. After one year, he left. He’s an independent mercenary again.

After the Superhuman Registration Act, Slade hadn’t changed his routine. The Superhero Civil War was destructive, we lost contact with Wilson. The mutants fought back, headed by Magneto, still no contact with Wilson. He’s smart, he had to have avoided confrontation with either groups, mutant and hero alike. There was no way he could’ve - I digress. When a second accord ratification occurred and Genosha was born, we found Slade. Back to his ordinary life, if that’s what you would call it. The Accords have not only affected the heroes, it’s affected Slade, to some degree. He’s added an old occupation to himself, Bounty Hunter. This explains why we haven’t seen him don the mask of Deathstroke in some time. Government and hero oversight must make him cautious, maybe. It certainly slows down business, I’m sure, in Slade’s eyes. Our weapon has to survive. If he can’t? That’s when we step in.

N O T E S (OOC)

Hello! I’m Mipsy (she/her)! A gamer girl, Marvel and DC fan, Netflix binge fanatic, anime fan, movie fan especially horror movies, and lover of all things creative (music, art, writing, and rping)! 

Slade is a mix of various comics and my own headcanons. I pull from a little bit of everything, even a little bit from Teen Titans (2003) from Cartoon Network. So don’t ask me which comics I use, heh. There’s a lot of comics, am I right? I took some liberties with Slade. Call them headcanons. Headcanons I’ve established from playing Slade for so long!

Mun ≠ Muse. Slade can be vulgar and rude, but that’s an understatement. He can be sociable, he can carry a conversation with others, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he likes you. Slade very much believes himself to be a good man, and sees Deathstroke as a job. Many of his enemies see him as a monster, a villain, but that’s because many don’t separate Deathstroke from Slade. Which is completely understandable! Slade’s done some pretty bad things, as Deathstroke and not. His character is a complicated one, not a cookie cutter straight character. His true alignment is neutral, but he can play the “hero” or the “villain” at anytime. Depends on who hired him for the job, which makes him an exciting character to rp! He has his own strict moral code that he follows, so he can’t be bothered with squeaky clean heroes or small time villains. But Slade can be reasoned with. He can carry a conversation when he wants to. Anyway, all that to say, Slade rarely likes anyone so please don’t hold that against the mun!

Slade is a simple man. The type of man who enjoys moments of peace in his life. He’s wealthy, but doesn’t flaunt his wealth like other billionaires. When he isn’t working, Slade really isn’t that bad at all. Just an old man who wants to drink his coffee and read his newspaper, thank you. He’s also quite humorous and a bit of a ladies man! Call it charming or not, he’s attractive enough, despite his age, for women to lay in his bed constantly.

He’s got a lot going on in his head. Guilt and being unstable are his biggest problems. As you’ve read, the super soldier serum really screwed him up. His body and mind were broken, and in effect a new kind of aggression was born within him. Makes him a bit of a monster, but it’s a monster Slade has decided to live with.

As you can already tell, I write alot! One reason I decided to join is I saw a few of you who write lots and I thought ‘I won’t be judged! Yay!’. But don’t fret! I can write paras and multi-paras, I’m just no good at one liners. No need to match length with me! Just...don’t be surprised if I write a lot back.

If you’d like to plot, DM me on discord! I’m so excited to be here! Can’t wait to rp with everyone!

#about #⊕ »»—— MEANER THAN MY DEMONS. ( intro ) #this is...a novel #>_>