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ophelieverse · 2 months

Note

I have an idea,Lia angel🪽can you please write Daemon x Hightower!reader where she is Otto youngest daughter and she is religious like Alicent and her father betrothed her to Daemon?Maybe with a little bit of 😏😏Thank you my angel🤍🤍

⊱ •There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

-Summary:In order to gain full power,Otto Hightower betrothed both of his daughters in the House of the Dragon.

-Warnings:Age gap,a little bit of smutty time,religious topics.

-Thank you for requesting and let me know what you think🫶🏻🩷

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The wind that caressed her bare back no longer carried with it that scent of saltiness that had weighed down her nostrils and kneaded her mouth,while sobs,wheans and bells had shaken her violently in following the ship and the wake of foam that moved away from the beach of Dragonstone and disappeared beyond the horizon.

It had become a pleasant breeze with floral and fruity hints,which rippled her skin filling her with chills,although Lady Y/n Hightower,youngest daughter of Otto Hightower the Hand of the King,was not cold.

She could not feel cold under the scorching sun of the island on which she had been abandoned by her family.Her father who gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and her older sister who cried silently with her,to be alone with her betrothed,the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, not when it was her own body that radiated heat,turning it on from the inside.

Maybe earlier,those days were her father gave her the information of his new plan.Before,perhaps,she had perceived the icy breath of what being married to a man like her future husband would mean,but now... Now those endless tears that had blinded her eyes and moistened her beautiful face had also dried.

«Father,Smith,Warrior,Mother,Maiden,Crone,Stranger.»Y/n whispers those names in her mind with her eyes closed,as if praying could purify her of what is happening to her body.

By the way Daemon hands creep under her nightgown and run through her skin,lingering on places she never dared to explore even on her own.Her hands instead she’ll the rosary of the Seven,to prevent herself from pushing him away or to bring him even closer.

Her whole body felt on fire,her immaculate skin was covered in goosebumps as the night sky engulfed her figure.Daemon had been waiting for her body,for her mind,soul and heart to be completely his.Maybe he suggested to Larys Strong to suggest to that cunt of her father to have her hand to him out of spite,maybe he did because Y/n had always been kind and gentle towards him unlike her father.

What he was certain of was that in that moment she looked like a holy figure,with her hair all sandy,her lips swollen,the skin of her jaw still covered in spit and wine.She looked like one of those gods that she loved tho pray and only now,taking in every inch of her body,he understood why people were religious.Why they needed something to turn to,someone to get on their knees for and chant their names.

Daemon wasn’t a religious person,but he liked to think that the gods had made Y/n just for him.

It was easy in the beginning,when it all started just to see Otto Hightower rage as the prince gave his younger daughter all those attentions.But after a short time,Daemon started to realize that there was something more that was pushing him to always look at her,to caress the back of her neck,to toy with her hair.

It was only when she told him that she prayed for him every night before going to sleep,that everything changed.No one has aver prayed for Daemon,maybe his brother had prayed him to change,but he never went down to his knees before his bed and asked to the gods to always protect him.

From that day he started to pay her more attention,to see the shy way she carried herself,always looking down at her feet,never saying anything without being asked.Always at her father side.She was wasted like this,such a young and beautiful girl that could bring the whole world to its knees to worship and cherish her just like the goddess she was.

When Daemon had caught the whispers of her father wanting to send her back to Old Town to become a Septa,he had to intervene.

He knew Y/n wouldn’t never gave herself to someone like him willingly,not without a promise.And so it was done,in less than a month they would’ve been husband and wife and he could have all the time to see her shine for who she really was,without the dark cloud of her father shadow on her.

Daemon wanted her to want him as he wanted her.Desperately.He wanted to make her shiver from his touch,he wanted to hear her voice breathless and shaky.Oh he wanted to hear her say his name like a prayer,like he was her new god.Full of devotion.

«You should stop crying,Y/n,am I hurting you?»Daemon murmured above her chest,his eyes not leaving the precious and untouched skin of her breast.

«T-that's not what I want.»she lied,her voice was weak and she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

Daemon takes her nipples in his mouth,one at a time and she can’t stop them from becoming erect and turgid.Her mother made her believe that no one could suck her breasts except her children,that sex was only meant for child-bearing but right now Y/n feels anything but a mother and a pure virgin.She felt dirty,she felt like a whore,she felt good for the first time in her life.

«You are a liar.»her betrothed taunted her,his rosy lips were soft,his tongue warm and wet made her thighs clench.

«Father,Smith,Warrior.»she whispered again,one of her hands was now grasping at Daemon long silver hair as he groaned.

Y/n dwells on those figures with a hint of fear,aware that none of them will come to save her now.Not her father who sold her to the Rogue Prince in marriage.Not the warrior,her sworn protector,that was waiting at the castle for Daemon to be done with her before escorting her to her maidens.In the absence of the smith,her father trusted a demon,Larys Strong,and his advices to strength Alicent oldest son claim to the throne by forging their union just to have Daemon on their side against Rhaenyra when war will come.

«You want this.You want me.»Daemon said looking up at her with lustfull eyes,releasing her nipples.

Y/n face was burning red,her lips were quivering with soft prayers«You should s-stop.»she pleaded.

He was still holding her,his fingers felt like pure fire on her ribs.He kissed his way down from under her breast,savoring the sweet perfume of strawberries and the clean and sinful taste of her immaculate skin.

«Stop where?Here?»he asked,he bit and sucked right under her ribcage making her gasp.

His hands were hiking up the gown of her white nightgown,the smooth and silky texture of her bare legs made his head spin.

«Daemon.»she called for him breathlessly.

«What do you want?Tell me,my beautiful princess.»he whispered.

She tries to stay motionless like a statue,but her body trembles,quivers,while he puts a finger in her and then a second, making her find her more wet than she would have liked.

Her language pronounces aloud the names of the Seven,to prevent herself from yelling at him to stop or to keep going forever.

«You want all this, you want me.»he reminds her,taking in all of her beauty.

«How could I?You're a horrible man.»

She spreads her legs wide and feels him rubbing the tip of his manhood erected against her opening without daring to enter yet,and she hates herself for how reflexively she pushes her pelvis against him,for how she widens her legs even more.

«Maybe you're horrible too.»

Y/n head was spinning and it was difficult to remember how that change had happened,how she had started crying at the betrayal of her family when shortly before she had found herself aching for him,for the man above her as the most unfortunate of disasters;nor how she had come to grasp with her lips a pasty and strong flavor, capable of awakening every sense,capable of awakening in her new desires and instilling new life in her.

When Daemon had walked her to a secret area on the beach of Dragonstone and eased her thirst with the most intense,tasteful wine of the known world she had found herself on her knees for him.Till a week before she used to lift her gowns and get down only to pray her gods,now she was doing for the man that her father had raised her to despise and she loved it more than the gods her mother had taught her to worship.

Then she had found herself laying on the cold and wet sand,Daemon on her like a beast on the pray.

Y/n followed with her tongue the route of a thick drop and found a small bump in her mouth.She enclosed it inside and sucked so as not to disperse any of the spicy notes of that purple liquid.The fingers that had played with his long moon hair tightened their grip in a tacit warning and she chased another trail finding herself flattening her tongue on solid muscles,provoking them with the tip to make them contract and relax to their liking.She sucked in other stylls and bit the skin she found underneath to memorize its texture and remember how even the salty of the sweat could turn into sugar.

She knew that the gift,which was dripping from that chest and which had been offered to her so generously, was not to be wasted and she would savor it greedily.

«Good princess.»Daemon had praised her,his eyes,of the same color of the wine,capturing her every movement.

Y/n blinked and the blurred view allowed her to admire the work of a skilled sculptor.The advent of the chest she was worshipping,stained with other droplets waiting for her passage,caused a wave of desire in her belly.Those paths she was entering would soon lead her to the place where she would finally find peace and a new pang of anticipation caught her unprepared.

She strove to bring back to mind how she ended up like this,on her knees for him.A man with the blood of the dragon in his veins,a man who was undoubtedly a deity:he had dazzled her with an estatic vision of immortal creatures singing and dancing,so colorful and lively that he enchanted and chained her to them.And that drink she had tasted first from his cup,then from his hands and, finally,from the rest of his limbs.

Y/n kneeling between the sea and the rocks, looked up at him eyes and,all of a sudden,she didn't care about anything anymore.Her pupils burned,foamed like the liquid she was collecting,and rested her soul.

Then she had found herself underneath him and somehow,she also founded the strength to pray for forgiveness.For the person she was about to become,for the person she was letting him create.

Maybe she was horrible too.

«I want to be.»she whimpered against his mouth«I want to be just like you.»she pleaded,scratching down his back,the rosary long forgotten on the cold sand.

Mother,Maiden,Crone.

Y/n turns to those names but without really praying to them:she thinks of the Mother,the one that she had lost,the one that she had watched her sister turn into and who is the only definition their father had imposed on both of them,of the Maiden who she is no longer,of the Crone who she does not want to be yet.

And never,never,never like right now she was just Y/n,a woman,as she feels the member of Daemon finally slip into her to its entire length.The intrusion snatches a cry of surprise from her,but even though it’s the first time she feels no pain and she is amazed.

Her lips opens immediately when Daemon one’s looks for hers,his tongue caressing hers slowly as his arms brings her impossible closer to him,almost as he wanted to be one with her.

«Tell me that you are mine,Y/n.Not your father,but mine.»Daemon sounded desperate,moving in and out of her at a languid pace to savor more of the gentle creature he was corrupting.

«I’m yours.»she immediately answered him with a little moan«And you are mine?»she still had that white innocence in her that made him fall in love with her.

«Soon we will be one under the blessing of the Seven.You are mine and i’m yours.»he promised her and she believes him,he’s her new god,one that was created only for her to worship just like he worship her.

Daemon enters and leaves her at an increasingly rapid pace,sinking more forcefully at the end of that provocation;it should be a punishment, perhaps,it is instead for Y/n is a relief.It’s not a torture,not when he fills her,but the emptiness he leaves when all of this will end.She hates how her body does not consider that as a shameful act,making love before being married on the beach,a humiliation,as,in spite of everything,even her mind recognizes that disgract on his virtue infinitely more pleasant than the honest marital duty that her sister had told her about.

Stranger.Stranger.Stranger.

There is no other god left,as she opens her eyes and feels lost in her own release that hits her like the waves that crush on the shore.Daemon is not far behind her,his lilac eyes shining in hers as he empties himself in her.

Y/n surrenders to him,to the only true Stranger she knows,and thinks that after all she could also die in that moment,because she is dying less now than she died for all her life.Because being with Daemon couldn’t be worse than being with her father,because the unprecedented heat that explodes inside her suddenly can be nothing more than death itself.

She opens her lips and Daemon is the only name she outrageously prays as she opens her hands to hold him now to herself,to draw him closer instead of pushing him back,while he sinks for one last time.

The rosary breaks and the beads fall to the sand,like the gods it represent.

«I’m sorry.»he says.

«Everything is alright.»she says back.

Daemon lays on her and begins to caress her with an unexpected and inconsistent sweetness,like that remorse to which she gives voice,but which she understands after all.He would not have been able to ask for all this without offering her father to marry his daughter,because,in any case,if he had only asked for a fun night together she would have said no.

But now of her rabid cruelty nothing remains but a painful fragility;he is a god who falls too,a god who bows to her.It's ironic how she almost feels obliged to console him,to thank him for taking her away from her father hands.

«Thank you,my prince.»Y/n whispered.

Deamon closed his eyes,laying on her bare chest and enjoying the warmth of her skin«You're the only beautiful thing I will ever have,Y/n.I will make you a happy wife.»and he sounded sincere,she believed him.

Father,Smith,Warrior,Mother,Maiden,Crone,Stranger.

She no longer worships the gods now,because they are cruel,those who brand such a sweet pleasure as a sin.

She doesn't think about the gods anymore,Y/n, because now she knows what it means to be human.

There is no longer any god,not after the Hour of the owl,when Daemon gives unconditional whispers,love and mercy.Because he no longer needs blackmail as a pretext and Y/n no longer has religious images to hide behind.It was only them now,to believe in and to love.

«I love you.»he says

«I love you too.»she says back.

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literaila · 4 months

Text

reassurance

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: megumi can't sleep

warnings: reader teases megumi, missing satoru

last part | next part

year one.

it’s your first night with the kids alone.

and you’re not nervous—no, not at all. having satoru around is basically like having a toddler who’s learned how to walk and gets into cupboards (just maybe slightly more annoying and less cute), so why would you be worried without him here?

honestly, it’s probably better this way. there’s no one to annoy megumi into hiding in his room all night. no one to use terrible pickup lines and swear that they’re working (they are).

but… you will admit that his presence is a reassurance of its own.

not just because of his power, or his strength, though that’s certainly something to consider. if someone was going to come and steal your children back, now might be a perfect opportunity. you know that they would lurk at your door waiting for a single moment that satoru was gone. and it would probably work, except for the fact that you’d sooner skin yourself with a dull knife from satoru’s kitchen than let that happen.

obviously, satoru wouldn’t need to go to such extremes. one blink from him and any threat would basically evaporate.

but it’s not even that.

satoru has always been that reassurance for you. despite any complaints you have about his attitude and the stupid things he says… it’s a welcome escape from the interminable worries in your mind.

you’d discovered this at sixteen when the two of you were alone on a mission for the first time.

if you were worried, if you got hurt, if you had a single doubt hidden beneath the warmth of your cursed energy or the bravado you’d foolishly flung around at that age—satoru was the complete opposite of all of that.

he would wave off your fears with a raised eyebrow. would laugh off your injuries before dragging you to the infirmary. he would take your doubts—with all of their hidden strength and knowledge—and purify them to a pulp.

you’ve never quite understood it.

where suguru would share your fears with you, assuring that you weren’t alone in the world of morality and fear, satoru would think of absolutely nothing at all.

and make fun of him all you want, but it was a nice break from logic and emotion. you’d admired him at sixteen for being so detached from the world and its curses.

(now, sometimes, it worries you. has he fallen so far from humanity that he can’t feel any of it? is he immune to the tortures of living in a world like yours?)

and you got used to being alone with those thoughts and doubts. you had to, even if you’d missed him desperately for a time that felt much longer than a year.

but you’ve also never had two children in your care, never had to worry about anything but yourself and the consequences of your very minute actions.

now every action feels like a tidal wave you could point in any direction.

if satoru was here, you think, at least you could blame the mistakes on him. comparatively, one of you is much better at being a responsible adult for tsumiki and megumi (hint: not the strongest sorcerer of the modern age).

and with satoru on some egregious mission—to who knows where, directed by only the people who hate him the most—you’re stuck in his house, with the kids, all alone.

it feels much too big in here without satoru’s ego to fill it.

maybe if you’d had a day to prepare you’d be better off. but satoru called you six hours ago with the news—and you know that he did it on purpose—telling you that you should just stay the night. you can even sleep in my bed, he’d drawled to you, just like you’ve always dreamed of.

you could’ve told him to go to hell, you know, if it weren’t for the sweetest little girl and the grumpiest little boy you’d ever met.

and, actually, it hasn’t gone too bad so far.

you made them dinner, which they both ate diligently like if they didn’t finish every bit on their plates you would kick them out—who knows if they liked it with the people-pleasing brats. and then they’d sat on the couch, commenting on some movie you’d never heard of.

and now, at ten o’clock at night, you’re cleaning up the kitchen worrying about the very monsters you’d trained for four years to deal with.

it's absolutely ridiculous, but there's no one here to tell you that.

“what’s wrong with your face?” a voice says, suddenly.

you turn to see megumi in the ridiculous pajamas satoru insisted on getting him—with some type of cat on them for god knows why—standing in the kitchen doorway with his signature frown.

“jeez,” you breathe out, leaning against the counter—pretending like your cursed energy hadn’t surged in your fists the moment you saw him there—and crossing your arms. “don’t scare me like that, kid. did satoru tell you to do that?”

you almost want to laugh at how his frown deepens at the mention of his name.

“sorry,” he murmurs, going to sit on a bar stool, just a bit too short to do it elegantly. “what’s wrong?”

“what? nothings wrong.”

“your face looks weird.”

oh, another thing about tonight. megumi is a lot more forthcoming when satoru isn’t around—you choose not to dwell on the prospects of that. you wonder what he’s like when you’re not around.

“i was just thinking," you say, blandly.

“you have to have a freaky look on your face to think?”

“okay, judgy," you sigh, leaning against the counter across from him, a brow quirked. "what are you doing up? it’s late.”

megumi shrugs. “can't sleep.”

he says it like he’s dealt with the same problems for many years like he’s not six years old and missing a tooth. it would be cute—how old and mature he seems—if it didn’t worry you.

satoru would coo at him, call him an old soul and ruffle his hair until megumi smacked him away.

but you wonder if he’s less an old soul and more of a hurt child.

“are you thinking about the scary movie satoru showed you?” you ask him, frowning. “i heard tsumiki had nightmares about it a couple days ago.”

“no. it wasn’t that scary. tsumiki just doesn’t like monsters.”

“and you do?”

he shrugs again.

you tap your fingers against the countertop. “have you been up this whole time?”

he nods. his movements are short and exact. “why are you still awake?”

“i was cleaning up.”

“gojo usually doesn’t do that until morning."

“what did we discuss at dinner?” you ask, rhetorically, shaking your head. “don’t do anything satoru does.”

megumi nods again, very seriously.

“do you need something? warm milk? my mom used to give me that when i couldn’t sleep.”

the boy frowns. “gross.”

“don’t knock it till you try it,” you tell him, smiling a little. “you were a baby once too.”

he shakes his head and you laugh. you should be scolding him and telling him to go back to sleep, but it's rare when you get a moment alone with the little boy. you're almost savoring it.

“did you try counting sheep?” you ask, teasing him. it's very easy when he looks almost... comfortable.

he rolls his eyes, messing with a wrapper satoru left lying around, but you can tell that he's trying not to smile too. after three months with him, it's almost easy to see the subtle shift in his features.

“when’s gojo going to be back?” he asks, after a moment, looking up at you with dark blue eyes. his voice is quieter, still like a portrait.

you pause, considering. it's a surprising change of subject. honestly, you hadn't even thought that megumi had noticed he was gone. “um… i’m not sure. it could be tomorrow, it could be a couple days from now. it depends on how far he had to go for work.”

“he’s killing curses right?”

the words almost shock you into taking a step back, but you refrain.

you make a mental note to smack satoru the next time you see him.

your mouth opens. then you close it. “what does satoru tell you when i’m not here?”

he scratches his head. “just that we’re privileged and that i can see things other people can’t.”

you narrow your eyes at him.

“and that he’s the best.”

you roll your eyes. “yeah, that sounds like him.”

“is he?”

“hmm?”

“the best?”

you watch his eyes, suddenly wide, weirdly curious. “i guess,” you answer, a little teasing, a little serious. you don't really want to explain this to megumi. you shouldn't have to. “he’d be better if he didn’t brag about it all of the time.”

“so he kills those things a lot?”

“what do you mean?”

“it’s normal for him?” he clarifies, leaning his small arms on the counter to observe you closely.

if you weren't so used to this, you might feel a bit uncomfortable.

“um, yes." you answer, not sure how far to go. "it’s pretty standard for sorcerers.”

“like me, right?”

“yes.”

he nods, his brows still furrowed, thinking harder than a six-year-old should. in your personal opinion, he shouldn't have to worry about anything.

but satoru clearly doesn't share that sentiment.

it's quiet for a moment while megumi thinks about your words. he doesn't seem to be wary of his own powers, or the fact that he's been shoved into this world. but, still, this is a weird topic for him.

it makes you wish again that satoru was here, just so you don't have to explain everything alone. he's much more clear than you are.

after the silence draws on, megumi looks down at the counter with skeptical eyes, your brows raise in surprise. “are you--" you almost smile. "are you worried about him?”

megumi’s head snaps up, his eyes wide. “what?” he snaps, voice harsher than you've heard it directed at you. “no.”

your lip twitches.

“it’s nice without him,” the boy continues. “he always tries to mess up my hair.”

because this is the worst thing that satoru has done to the boy, obviously.

you watch him as he looks away again, a little embarrassed. he shakes his head so his hair hides his face.

“oh, yeah," you respond, a little sarcastic. "why would you miss him?”

why would anybody?

“right.” he pauses. from this close, you can see a pattern of freckles on his pale skin. he looks up again. “are you worried?”

you almost smile. “no, he’s too annoying to get hurt.”

megumi nods immediately.

you’re eating breakfast with the kids when he appears at the table, his grin wide, his hair a bit wild.

satoru is sitting with the three of you before you can blink, his arms open wide, his blindfold a bit crooked.

you gasp and both children flinch away at his sudden appearance.

he is quite scary.

“hey, family,” he says to all of you, smoothly. “what’d i miss?”

megumi stands up from the table, taking a step away from the man, and you smack his head.

tsumiki just giggles.

next part

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comatosebunny09 · 21 days

Text

You can’t be serious.

“Babe,” he sighs for the umpteenth time, brushing his hair from his face.

His forehead’s all wrinkly, and he swears you’ve aged him by at least ten years.

“Cool, right?”

Leon groans, studying the bathroom and whatever’s got you buzzing around like a toddler excited to show off their macaroni art.

“Is it really necessary?” he cautions, wincing.

You tend to buy whatever lands on your For You page impulsively. Some buys are genuinely worth it, like the air purifiers and the standing desk. Others, however…

He recalls the Daddy hat you bought him, and he visibly shudders.

“course it is!” you trill on tippy-toe, drawing the shower curtain open with so much vigor that you nearly rip the rod from the wall.

Leon deflates like a balloon, resisting an impulse to roll his eyes.

With dramatic flair, you waggle your fingers like you’ve just unearthed all the secrets of humankind. Wear a goofy and lopsided smile, and he wants to hug you so hard.

“Ta-da!”

A glance skyward reveals what you’re so proud of. Black brass and the span of your bathtub, positioned just below the ceiling, Leon sees—

“It’s a tandem shower!” you complete his thought, bouncing about like you’ve had too much caffeine.

He sighs once more, fixing you with a look. Still, you don’t waver. Instead, you grab his hand, jerking him closer until his shin knocks against the tub’s edge.

“It’s awesome, see? This way, we can both be in the shower, and it’s sexy. And neither of us has to be cold because there’s two shower heads!”

Your eyes shine like stars shooting across the nebula. Leon feels something pull in his chest, and no matter how much he wants to stomp and groan and tell you how utterly ridiculous this is, he just—can’t.

You’re bloody adorable. His weakness. His Kryptonite. This would explain why your home is filled with miscellaneous trinkets, do-dads, and other things that will sit in your closet collecting dust in a few months.

With a smile twitching his lips, Leon pats your head. Can’t help how his eyes crease so fondly and his tone grows brassy with tenderness.

“Good job, babe.”

You’re the equivalent of an emoji, the way your face warms up and your smile splits your face in twain. You’re like a little tea kettle, fit to blow in a love surge, and goddamit, he’d give you the world.

“Wanna try it out?” you state more than ask.

Another sigh, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a migraine pulsing in his temple.

“Babe, I already showered at the—”

Damn that wobbly lip thing you do. That way you shake your shoulders and pin him with those puppy-dog eyes.

“—sure.”

You clap your hands with a squeal, buzzing about the bathroom to grab things for the shower.

And maybe, he thinks above folded arms, leaning against the wall with all the gentleness of the world nestled amongst his features. Maybe this one buy isn’t so bad.

Especially after you slip out of your shirt and toss it at him.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fluff #blame this on my fyp

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completeoveranalysis · 1 month

Text

[9]

MOM HOLY FUCK THEY REALLY ARE SAYING IT

EXCUSE ME

WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT IS THIS THE GREATEST THING

LET’S TALK ABOUT THIS

Clamp absolutely set the precedent for this with our visit to Shura/Shara all those years ago. We’ve SEEN the possibility of being in the past and future of the same world and teleporting between the two. We knew the feathers could appear pretty much anywhere in the timeline of a world, given how time works differently across the mutliverse, and we DID just straight up go backwards and forwards in time via Mokona, so it’s absolutely possible for them to appear in the Past of the Kingdom of Clow.

WHICH IS APPARENTLY ACID TOKYO????

WHICH JUST ABSOLUTELY BLOWS MY MIND WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT A WAY TO TIE IT ALL TOGETHER??

X/1999 IS THE SET UP TO THE CLOW KINGDOM?

THE CLOW KINGDOM IS IN THE RUINED ECOLOGICAL DISASTER OF OUR OWN CURRENT WORLD???

Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle as a pseudo-not-really-but-kind-of-sequel-event to Cardcaptor Sakura but ACTUALLY ALSO being the sequel-kind-of-but-not-exactly sequel to X/1999???? Or Alternate Timeline X/1999? Where things are ever so slightly different but the world was ruined in the same way?

AND THE RESERVOIR

THE RESERVOIR IN ACID TOKYO IS THE RESERVOIR IN THE CLOW RUINS????

I’m REELING OVER THIS

THEY SET THAT UP

SAKURA WALKED THROUGH THE DESERT TO PURIFY THE WATER TO SAVE THESE PEOPLE AND IT MADE THE RESERVOIR THAT LOVED SAKURA SO MUCH THAT IT PROTECTS HER

AND WATANUKI! WATANUKI WAS AN ESSENTIAL PIECE OF SETTING UP THE RESERVOIR IN A WORLD BEFORE HE EVEN EXISTED IN THAT TIMELINE

And that’s Definitely the feather they’re talking about, isn’t it? The feather that Sakura left in Acid Tokyo is still in the Reservoir right now, and is the reason the water is magic and loves her so much - because it’s a piece of her, and -... well, a piece of her clone. But it’s a piece of SAKURA, and so they resemble and resonate with each other, and that's why the water is so close to her, but 'Sakura' can’t absorb the feather because she’s already a full person and those aren’t her memories, but the memories of her clone.

Meanwhile Sakura (ie, our cloned Sakura) is currently on the other side of the portal at a point in time that DIDN’T exist a few seconds ago, for Original 'Sakura', but the rest of the universe has moved on and decades have passed (even though no time at all has passed for her) and now the feather from her clone has ended up in the past that set up the reservoir potentially centuries before she was even born.

Timeline!

Oh my god?

Oh my god.

I’m going to be thinking about this forever.

No wait I’m not done ACID TOKYO WAS like THE point in the narrative where everything changed forever. And from a Tsubasa point of view it felt like a world picked at random for all the Important Narrative changes to take place - but it never was! It was the most important world of all! It was the Clow Kingdom!

So Syaoran lived his life in the Clow Kingdom, and then his soul collapsed in Acid Tokyo, which was ALSO the Clow Kingdom, and then he went and died defending Lava Lamp, in the Clow Kingdom. All at completely different points in the timeline but all in the exact same world.

Though I will say I am thoroughly baffled by the connection between the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building and THE CLOW RUINS???

ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO BE THE SAME BUILDING?

Oh my god they’re in the same location aren’t they. The reservoir was underneath it and now it’s under the ruins. I suppose they have Magic so they could probably reshape them however they want but WHAT A CON CLAMP HAVE PULLED ON US

TO SPEND THE ENTIRE MANGA STARING AT THE WINGS OF THE CLOW RUINS AND THEY WERE SECRETLY WAITING FOR THE RIGHT TIME TO TELL US THAT WE WERE ACTUALLY LOOKING AT THE TOKYO METROPOLITAN GOVERNMENT BUILDING ALL ALONG

THE AUDACITY OF IT ALL

#I LOVE IT?#I LOVE IT!#OH MY GOD THEY PULLED THE WHOLE RUG AWAY #THE GREATEST NARRATIVE CIRCLE?#THE MOST EXTREME TWIST?#OH MY GOD #Liveblogging the reservoir chronicle #Tsubasa #Vol 212 #Lava Lamp Guy #Fai #Kurogane #ACID TOKYO? IN MY CLOW KINGDOM???#IT’S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK!#Excuse me I have to stare at the wall for seventeen hours

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turquoisephoenix · 4 months

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It's a well-known fact that entering the underworld will often transform you into a member of the Undead, but WHAT you turn into is completely random. Most of the time, a hapless loser tumbling into the spooky depths just harmlessly poofs into a deader, paler version of themselves - a zombie, skeleton, or a ghost that still has most of their personality left intact, albeit with a new corpse-y body odor and a newfound appreciation for brains pies.

This did not happen to some elf named Olav. No, when HE accidentally fell into the Valley of the Undead, bones cracked and hair fell out as he writhed about and horrifically transformed into a ghost-eating ghoul, the apex predator of the Undead that "cleans up" lingering spirits and purifies them so they can move on to the next life. By eating them.

Going from "just a dude, just a regular dude" to "Apex Predator of the ghost world complete with sharp teeth and rending claws in which to better chew on bones and zombie flesh" is bound to drive anyone insane so Olav Ghost Roaster feels a tiny bit unhinged because he had to claw his way back into sentience over time. He's been told that he's eaten an entire village several times. He doesn't remember that village, even if he forever carries the proof of his punishment.

He's fine now, thankfully. He thinks. He hopes. Now he's the Skylander most likely to tells the new students at the Academy increasingly cryptic and harrowing advice as he tries to relearn how to be a chef again, because his transformation has really thrown his taste buds all out of whack and most people don't like eating ectoplasm. Another hobby he has on the side is trying to figure just who he was before he became a ghoul. Did he have family. Did he have friends. HOW long was he in a weird feral state before Eon found him. Was it just one village. Like I said, he's fine. He's fine fine fine. Everything is fineFINEFINE.

#WHOOPS I spilled all of this ANGST all over this Skylanders figure!#''Turq how many sad skeletons do you know.'' the answer is a lot #I am honoring the results of that poll I did at the beginning of the year #Skylanders #Ghost Roaster #Skylanders Ghost Roaster #Turquoisephoenix's Art

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hollowed-theory-hall · 4 months

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Secrets of the Darkest Art: How to Make a Horcrux

So I saw many theories regarding how to make a Horcrux, but none of them really made perfect sense to me, so I decided to give it a crack myself as part of my mission to understand Lord Voldemort/Tom Marvolo Riddle (Which I think I did, big post coming about that at some point, this is but another piece of that puzzle of a man)

So this is my reverse engineering of a ritual to create Horcruxes based on book evidence, my knowledge of real-world alchemy, real-world ancient Greek cults and rituals and linguistic analysis.

How to reverse engineering a dark magical ritual:

The first thing, is to define what we knew fore certain:

The name: "Horcrux"

The creator is an Ancient Greek wizard named Harpo the Foul.

A death is required in the making.

A Horcrux holds a piece of the casters soul that anchors them to life so they won't die.

I'll actually start with the third point.

How to split a soul?

Both Dumbledore and Slughorn mention a death being required to tear your soul to make a Horcrux, and that never really sat right with me. It magically doesn't make sense and even the canon examples we have for Horcrux murders make this statment iffy.

We have seven examples of murders used to create Horcruxs (thanks to one Tom Riddle being dramatic):

The Diary - Myrtle Warren - killed by a basilisk. Sure, Tom freed the Basilisk, but it hardly seemed targeted at Myrtle specifically and you can argue he didn't actually kill her (more a manslaughter by negligence). He didn't cast the spell, so how come this tore his soul?

The Ring - his father (Tom Riddle Sr) - Avada Kadevra.

The Cup - Hepzibah Smith - she was poisoned by her house elf. Sure, the elf was under the imperious, but it wasn't a first-degree murder, and like with the Basilisk I find it hard to consider this the same as casting a killing curse. Magically those are very different things.

The Locket - Muggle Tramp - Avada Kadevra

The Diadem - Albanian Peasant - Avada Kadevra

Harry Potter - himself - backfired Avada Kadevra

Nagini - Bertha Jorkins - Avada Kadevra

Now, I used the term "magically different" or "magically make sense" what do I mean by that?

Well, besides the fact I'm going to make a full post about how I see magical theory in the Harry Potter Wizarding World, I'll say it takes a lot after occult philosophies from Alchemy that are very old, Slughorn mentions as much in book 6 and there are a few other references to it. I'm just gonna cover the basics required for this theory.

In Alchemy, everything (people, animals, plants and rocks) are built of three base components:

The Salt - the body - the physical form.

The Sulfur - the soul - the self that holds the divine flame.

The Murcury - the spirit - the life essence that binds the salt and sulfer together.

Now, in Alchemy, the main study is in purifying and combining these different aspects of material. Let's look at a herb, for an example:

If we want to retrieve its salt, we'll dry the herb completely using fire to leave behind a fine light grey ash that represents only the physical form.

If we wanted its mercury we'd distill all liquids from it until we get a purified, clear liquid which in the case of plants would be alcohol (it's why alcohol is referred to as "spirit").

And if we wanted its soul, we would take the remains from the distillation and drying process which would be a kind of oil.

(it can get more complicated with different materials, but this isn't a post about Alchemy)

Now, back to Horcruxs.

So, if we would want to split a soul, Alchemecly, how do we go about it?

Well, we don't. Not really. See a soul can't really be split, as every part of it, every bit of that oil from our random herb represents the entire soul. It's why something like a Horcrux could theoretically work in giving a full life to the diary the way we see in Chamber of Secrets.

Additionally, to work with any material in Alchemy, you are required to purify it first. It means that to get a piece of soul to bind to a diary, you need a pure soul.

Killing someone else won't sever your own soul from the spirit and the body, it's not how this works. Killing someone severs their spirit and therefore splits their body, spirit, and soul. Besides, an Ancient Greek man, like Herpo was, would hardly consider murder as vile as we do today. It wouldn't even cross his mind that any murder (even an indirect one) could harm one's own soul.

No, the only way to "split" a soul is to first sever it from life, disconnecting the bond between soul and body. Essentially, the only way to promise you immortality is to kill yourself.

I know it sounds a little confusing, but, essentially, once the soul is severed from the spirit and body you can split it. Think of the herbal oil, once you have the oil, separate from the rest of the plant parts, you can combine it with new ingredients. You can only work on a specific aspect once you severed it from the other two and as what binds all three together is spirit — life — the only way to do it for a human soul — is death.

But really, how?

Well, here comes the second thing we know about making Horcruxs — that dear Herpo was Ancient Greek.

In Ancient Greece they had multiple different religious cults, some of which were Chthonic cults. Cults that dedicated themselves to death or ditties and heroes associated with death and more importantly — rebirth.

Many of these cults were dedicated to figures like Orpheous, Dyonysus, Persephone, characters in mythology who are known for going through the underworld — through death — and coming back out. These cults were very secretive and not much is known about their practices, but some is.

What is known is that they had rituals were they reenacted a death and then rebirth (usually drinking wine — a water if life, was the representation of rebirth).

This created a very clear idea in my head — to split a soul, you'll have to ritualisticlly, magically kill yourself, severe a peice of your soul and then revive yourself with a water of life — a potion.

This potion is never mentioned, but I believe it exists due to these Chthonic cult rituals and how they were structured. Not only that, but the Greek underworld did have a river known for being incredibly painful to drink, literally made of fire, but being able to bring the dead back - The Phlegethon River.

Note: Lethe River Water (the river in the Greek Underworld that makes the drinker forget) is a canon ingredient in a Forgetfulness Potion.

So what is the dead body for?

Well, congratulations, you killed yourself to retrieve a sliver of your soul and revived yourself so you won't stay dead. You found an item you can keep secure to tie that sliver of soul, too. Now, how would you bind then? After all, the only thing meant to bind a human soul to a body is a human spirit - a human life... you get where I'm going with this.

This is why Tom didn't have to be the one to do the deed. As long as he had a recently deceased corpse to harvest the life from to use to bind his newly split soul and the item of his choice.

It explains why nothing was missing from the bodies. Myrtle and the Riddles were investigated by the Ministry of Magic. One would assume the aurors would've noticed if any corpse was missing a hand due to the killer eating it (as other Horcrux theories suggest).

Not only was nothing missing from the body, the soul was intact. Myrtle became a ghost after death, a ghost is quite literally, just the soul, no body, no spirit.

So the only thing that was taken from Tom's victims was their life, quite literally at that.

Is that all? Can we make a Horcrux now?

Not really. See, when analyzing spells in Harry Potter is their name.

Avada Kadevra - is a reference to an Aramaic healing spell "Abracadabra" pronounced in Aramaic as: "Avra Kadebra" and meaning "I will create as commanded". Merged with the Latin word "cadaver" meaning "corpse" to create -> "I will create dead bodies as commanded"

Or Wingardium Laviosa - is a cross of the English word "wing", the Latin word "arduus" (meaning "high, tall, lofty, steep, proudly elevated"), or "arduum" (meaning "steep place, the steep" and the Latin word "levo" (meaning to "raise, lift up"). So together the spell means -> "lift high up".

So, it's pretty clear spells, their names and incantations are very self-explanatory. So a Horcrux should be no different.

I've seen some attempts at translating the name Horcrux. Unfortunately, these attempts treated the name as Latin, modern Greek, or Old English. Herpo, was Ancient Greek, though, so I went and translated a few possible meanings from Ancient Greek (Classical Greek and Homeric Greek are what I looked at):

ὅρκος (orkus, pronounced "hor-kus") - an oath, the object by which one swears, bound by oath (still used in modern Greek).

κρόκες (crukes, pronounced "cru-kes") - saffron-colored (blood red in Greek), crocus flower. The crocus flower symbolizes both death (the saffron that is the spice) and rebirth (the golden crocus which brings renewal and joy) because Demeter wears them when Persephone returns from the underworld in myth.

So what we have is a spell called "binding oath of death and rebirth" which all around sounds fitting.

There might also be a "made in blood" tucked at the end due to the association of κρόκες with the color of blood.

But what does it matter?

Well, somewhat. As now with this name, I expect the binding between the spirit from the victim, the split soul, and the item would be done in a sort of oath - an orkus.

The association with blood gives us another hint. Blood is the part of the human body most representative of life. Therefore, in Alchemy, your blood is your spirit. So it'll make sense that your own blood would be used in the binding process or more correctly in the process of turning another person's spirit into your own. Making the thread to bind the body (item) and the soul piece your own. As it also refers to just a red firey color, it can indicate the Phlagatton potion I hypothesize should be part of the ritual due to how Chthonic rituals usually went, as the Phlagaton river is made of fire.

So we have a general idea on how to make a Horcrux. You need an item of your choice to bind your soul to. You need a life (spirit) harvested from a human that you transformed into being your own using your blood. And you need a piece of your own soul, which you get by killing yourself and then reviving yourself. And you finish it off by binding it all together with an oath.

But how could you make one accidentally?

So, everyone knows Voldemort succeeded in somehow making a Horcrux accidentally, something a lot of theories I saw don't account for. Becouse whatever process you need to go to to make a Horcrux, Voldemort went through all of it the night he died the first time and marked Harry.

All the steps for my method of making a Horcrux were met that night.

The item in qustion is baby Harry, nothing interesting there.

The soul sliver was split the way it always is — through death. Voldemort dies, killed by his own killing curse and that is what splits his soul.

The life or spirit that then binds his soul to Harry isn't Lily's spirit or James'; it's his own spirit that acts as a binder between Harry and Voldemort’s split soul. Because the spirit was already his, there was no need to transform it by blood.

Step-by-step guide to making Horcruxes:

I'm not going to actually give the full step-by-step least a budging dark lord is looking for this information. I do have notes about exact incantations and even the full recipe and instructions for the Phlagaton potion I'm going to mention. These instructions won't be here since they are more in the realm of speculation and headcanon. This is just the overview of the ritual based on canon information and the occult philosophy I mentioned above.

Step 1 - Life and Blood

Get access to a recently deceased human and extract their Mercury (Spirit or Life Essence).

Submerge the retrieved life essence with your own blood on a new moon (life and vitality). (7 drops of blood will probably do)

Step 2 - Water of Fire

To complete the cycle of death and rebirth you’ll need the Phlegeton Water potion to return you to life at the end of the cycle.

As you brew the potion, it must be brewed in a dark room, preferably underground to remind as much of the underworld as possible.

While brewing the potion one must be in the mindset of the Phlegeton, must be willing to go through agony to achieve eternal life and imbue these thoughts in their potion. (In alchemy, when working, it is believed you imbue your work with your thoughts during the Alchemical process. As an Alchemical process affects both the material being worked and the Alchemist themselves)

Likley Ingrediants:

Saffron spice

Golden crocus flower juice

Pomegranate juice

Step 3 - The Ritual Preparation

Set up your space so none of the components may escape the ritual space and so the ritual will not be interfered with.

Make sure the spirit you retrieved is within reach.

Make sure the item you desire will hold the Horcrux will be within reach as well.

Coax the spirit into the item and prepare it to tie your soul to the next step.

Step 4 - Death and Rebirth

To create a thread of your soul to tie to the ritual, you must die figuratively. Go through death to return stronger from the underworld.

Once you feel like death has reached you and your soul is separated you should heal your soul and finish the cycle, bringing you out of death and back to life by drinking the Phlegeton potion.

After the pain subsides you will feel healthier than before, stronger than before, and you’ll have an additional thread of sulfur (soul) in your chest to be pulled out and placed into the Horcrux.

The split-off soul should, on its own, try to search for life and a body to be bound to. If it doesn't, coax it out yourself and bind it to the Horcrux with the spirit you made in step 1.

Step 5 - Oath of Life

The connection between the body (the item), soul, and spirit is still unstable, if most likely strong enough to hold.

Swear the oath of life to finalise the bound between you, the Horcrux, and the soul thread together to ward off death.

I'll end with this note I made regarding Horcruxes when I started working on this theory:

I don't know what all goes into the process of making a Horcrux but I don't believe a person who truly likes themselves and doesn't want to inflict pain on themselves could make a Horcrux. Tearing up your soul is an act of arrogance above nature, sure, thinking you deserve to change the laws of the world and be the exception is part of it, but it's also an act of self-hatred. You need to hate yourself enough to be willing to kill yourself, hurt yourself, and tear yourself up in the most unnatural ways — hence why so few can do so, let alone more than once.

And Tom Riddle does seem to have that exact mix of arrogance, spite, and low self-esteem that would allow it.

#hp theory #hp #harry potter #harry potter theory #harry potter thoughts #tom marvolo riddle #lord voldemort #horcrux #hollowedtheory #overthinking #voldemort #voldemort analysis #wizarding world #tom riddle #horcruxes #nagini #moaning myrtle #slytherin

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basilf1res · 1 year

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DP x DC Prompt - Zombie Jason

Jason didn’t know when it started, but when his left hand detached from his wrist the first time, it was safe to say he freaked out. What was worse was the patches of bruised skin slowly turning a rotting green.

It was chilling to look at, so he started wearing fingerless gloves that stretched beyond his wrists and covered enough of his hands to hide the decaying skin and flesh.

Perhaps the term “zombie” fit more than he thought. To add on, there was this pit in his stomach (not the pit madness, it had started to fade when his limbs started detaching, and was certainly silent now) that food never seemed to fill.

Deep down he was anxious that the hunger was for brains, but he knew that was just absurd.

He soon discovered he could completely remove his head, unscrewing it like a bottle cap on those cheap plastic water bottles.

Jason was starting to lose focus on the world around him, almost never during his vigilante work, but during everyday tasks. One time he was helping fix the bikes in the cave, replacing the worn down tires, when he spaced out. When Jason blinked, he was just sitting down at the dinner table, those already seated watching him carefully.

It made him feel sick, and he theorized he was dying again. So he started recording himself on tapes, logging how he was doing and the progress of the decay.

He started searching for a cure, something to hold him together.

He got more and more frenzied as the weeks flew by, similar to Tim on his sixth cup of daily coffee.

Jason started gathering things he owned, small trinkets and little gifts that he subtly placed around the manor. Alfred noticed the things first, seemingly oblivious to who was leaving them (he most definitely knew).

It hurt, but the gift giving made him happy, the rot wasn’t spreading as quickly if at all anymore! Jason was overjoyed. Spending time with his siblings made him feel all fuzzy inside, like someone took a phone and placed the vibration feature in the center his chest.

It wasn’t long before the rotting started to get worse again. Jason got into a fight with Bruce, he didn’t remember what it was about anymore, something about tests or reports on himself and his patrols around Crime Alley.

He threw his hand out to the side, a wide gesture of some kind when he felt the telltale sign of his left hand detaching from his wrist. The wretched squelching noise of the flesh tearing and the ‘schlop’ of the hand hitting the ground, splattering the cave floor with rusty reddish-brown blood. The birds and bats stared at the stump as Jason rushed to snatch up his hand, practically twisted the thing back in place.

Confessing that he believed he was dying again was the hardest thing in that moment. Jason told Bruce to fuck off, albeit wetly as his emotions refused to take a hike.

He left and the rest of the batfam begin researching relentlessly for some sort of cure. Dick, heartbroken over the ordeal, contacts Constantine.

“You need help with what?” The British magician dropped the cigarette he was twirling around his fingers to stare at Nightwing, Batman, Red Robin, and Red Hood. The last of the four standing off to the side, saying that he’ll be fine and he didn’t need magical medical help.

“Red Hood is starting to develop a skin condition where it appears he’s legitimately becoming a zombie, we need help finding some sort of medicine for him.” Nightwing states, stress pulling at his face.

John hums before turning to the man in question, “Take off your helmet.”

He was met with the sight of Jason’s face, but green patches covered his neck and jaw but no higher.

“Bloody hell��” Constantine muttered before reaching into his trench coat and pulling out a vial of Lazarus Water about the size of his pinky finger. “Do you know what this is?”

“Pit Water..?” Jason trailed off, the higher pitch at the end of his sentence making it sound like a question.

“Yes and no.” Constantine drawled, “This is purified ectoplasm, it’s been cleaned of any imprint or claim. It comes from the Infinite Realms.”

Batman grunted in a reply. “Hn.”

John rolled his eyes, “If I’m right, your decaying body should fix itself if you consume purified ectoplasm every week or so. If I’m wrong, the ectoplasm I have will not appeal to you and I’ll need to do some more digging.” Constantine’s attempt at being chipper fell short as he uncorked the vial and handed it over to Jason.

He stared at it, blankly looking at the shimmering, slightly metallic-looking liquid.

“We’ll go ahead, sniff it.” Constantine arched a brow that expressed he didn’t have time for this. “Drink it if it smells appealin- DON’T SWALLOW THE WHOLE BLOODY GLASS VIAL!!”

Jason had promptly done what he was told. To piss him off he just ate the whole thing - it wasn’t that but of a vial anyways - after a few moments he felt less brittle and fragile. He stuck his tongue out childishly. Snickering to himself silently.

Yeah. He could get used to the absence of the- hoLY FUCK WAS HE SINKING INTO THE CAVE FLOOR?!

——————————

I’m kinda brain-dead right now, I’ve dropped a pre-written Christmas themed fic to shift my attention to Project GH05T.

Here’s a blurb of Zombie Jason needing ectoplasm in order to keep himself from falling apart - literally.

Good night y’all. I wrote a majority of this in my study hall. 💀

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #jason todd #zombie jason todd #jason todd is a zombie #this is a blurb #fic writing is hard #i need to go to bed #good night

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musings-and-overanalyses · 9 months

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Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind: Why This is My Favourite Ghibli Movie

CW: Major high-school English teacher vibes ahead. Proceed at your own risk.

Nausicaä of the valley of wind is a story of the titular character Nausicaä and her being a bridge between the world of humans and nature to bring peace, thus fulfilling an ancient prophecy.

Nausicaa is the princess of the Valley of the Wind. The film begins with her walking and exploring the Sea of Decay, an area with toxic air, plants and fungal spores. She collects some spores and finds the hard molten shell of an Ohmu (gigantic blue-blooded trilobite-looking creatures), which her people use to make weapons and tools. As the name suggests, the Valley of the Wind is a civilisation that depends on and bases their culture around wind, which one can see through an abundance of windmills and gliders, including the one that Nausicaä rides. They are shown to be peaceful people who do not interfere with the politics of the warring human kingdoms or disturb nature. Nausicaä in particular is shown to have a special gift with animals—from calming Ohmus to having a pet fox-squirrel. As the existence of the kingdom depends on the sea wind that shields them from the effects of the sea of decay, there is a general reverence towards nature and its other members such as the Ohmus, that are often referred to with honorifics.

This was an element I liked: the symbolism goes deep in this film; for example, with the nature of wind—it being the very breath necessary for life is contrasted with its other face, through toxic spores in the sea of decay capable of killing anyone who inhales it.

It is revealed that humans had built The Giant Men, weapons so dangerous—not unlike our atomic bombs as shown through the characteristic mushroom cloud—that the destruction caused by the war had unleashed the fury of the Ohmus, an otherwise gentle species. They wiped out entire civilisations and where they died, the Sea of Decay grew on their decomposing corpses, showing how all life is interconnected and that even in death the rage of the Ohmus, and through them the rage of nature, wouldn't subside. It is then that the viewers find out that this is not some far-off planet, but a post-apocalyptic future on earth.

New species of plants and fungi made the Sea of Decay their habitat—nature and life always find a way. It is implied that the humans lost the war referred to as the Seven days of Fire, but the truth is that it is not a war that can ever be won. Even if you win the war against nature you lose. As the story progresses, we see that the plants and fungi that Nausicaä collected from the Sea of Decay are actually trying to purify the soil and water—nature holds no grudges but only seeks balance.

The seventh of the Giant Men, a sentient atomic bomb if you will, apparently hid underground for a thousand years until the kingdom of Pejite found it for use against their enemy, the Tolmekians. They both remain oblivious to the sheer destruction that can be caused by this Giant Man and they don't care either. Despite the balance between humans and nature being a delicate one, instead of trying to rebuild together, they justify to themselves that the war is necessary for self-preservation and to put humans back on top of the food chain.

In their hubris, the Tolmekians and their princess Kushana believe that with the help of their superweapon they can destroy the Sea of Decay despite knowing that it will trigger the wrath of the Ohmus. The Giant Man however is not complete and hence, though the devastation is great, the final giant man dies and all that is remains to be done is to calm the wrath of the Ohmus.

Nausicaä saves an Ohmu child who was injured by Tolmekian soldiers to lure the Ohmus into a war. She saves the baby Ohmu and sacrifices her own life to calm the sea of maddened Ohmus. The now-calm Ohmu then revive Nausicaä, symbolising the mystical healing power of nature and its ability to support and create life.

Nausicaä is an excellent protagonist, and how the trope of the chosen one is utilised is beautiful and full of symbolism. Right from the get-go, we see her being inquisitive and brave. She is willing to defend her people but not through violence. And it is made abundantly clear that her avoidance of violence is not due to any lack of strength; when she strikes down the soldiers who killed her father, rather than feeling any sense of pride (as one might expect from a character not used to strength), it sickens her. She shows understanding even towards Kushana, whose men took over her kingdom. She sincerely loves and respects animals and plants.

There was a prophecy among the people of the valley of wind that a person clad in blue over golden fields will save their kingdom and bring peace. And towards the end of the film, Nausicaä's clothes becoming blue with the blood of the baby Ohmu she saved and the golden fields being the tendrils of the Ohmus healing her is poetic to say the least.

In addition to a good female protagonist, we also get a powerful female antagonist in Kushana, who starts out as a one-note expansionist ruler, but it is revealed that she lost her limbs and got severely maimed by the sea of decay, motivating her to destroy it once and for all. Proud and arrogant, sure, but she has a motive beyond just wanting power and possesses some form of a moral code. In another story she could be the protagonist bravely defending humanity against the evil, alien-esque trilobites and spores.

It was a unique and meaningful choice on Miyazaki's part to symbolise nature through the Ohmus—alien-looking giant insects—instead of something cute and fluffy. Oftentimes humans care more about the conservation of animals that they find cute (pandas over, say, Panamanian golden frogs), but an animal doesn't have to appeal to human aesthetics to be worth conserving.

Absolutely not to be missed is the breathtaking soundtrack by Hisaishi. There are symphonies, techno music, sitar-like instruments and a child's humming, all elevating every scene to give a moving experience.

Ultimately it is an ambitious story that aims to deal with themes of coexisting with nature, the futility and dangers of war, and of how innocent children who should live carefree lives are dragged into it and made heroes. This film is often categorised as falling into the genre of Solarpunk: a literary and artistic movement that centres around building a sustainable future interconnected with nature and community. Although this film does depict violence and wars, it ultimately shows a peaceful future is possible.

Truly a masterpiece. 9/10.

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princessasmosprincess · 1 year

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Sunkissed

Summary: After a fun day at a Human World beach, the brothers realize they're sunburned.

Characters: The demon brothers and GN Reader/MC (it could be Asmodeus x Reader if you squint because this is my fic and hey, you're the one who came to the Asmo kissing blog).

Genre: Sickfic (kinda), humor, fluff

Warnings: Canon-typical sibling on sibling violence, sunburn, nonsexual nudity, mild canon-typical innuendo, no major spoilers but MC is in possession of a certain object they obtain in season 2.

***

“I might have to get rid of that new toner we bought, MC,” said Asmo as he held the door open for you. “My face hurts.”

“Really? My skin feels fine.” You’d known demon skin to be stronger than your own in most cases, so this was perplexing.

Asmo had purchased the toner with you only three days ago from a Human World store famous for selling the most exclusive skincare. It had gone viral online despite its steep price tag, so naturally Asmo had to buy it.

Asmo gasped. “You don’t suppose it contains holy water, do you?”

“That’s not really a common skincare ingredient in the Human World,” you said.

“Humans don’t use it to purify their skin?” He asked.

You shook your head, suppressing a laugh. “But maybe there's something else in the toner that doesn't agree with your skin, let’s take a look at the bottle.”

“Ok! I’ll go get it. And while I'm at it I’ll prepare a bath for the two of us,” He slipped his arm around your waist, leaning into you with his charming smile.

“Maybe…” you said, bumping him gently with your hip.

“We can even try out those bath salts I brought back for you, wouldn't that be nice?”

You had to admit a relaxing bath did sound nice right now. You and the brothers were just coming in from a day at the private beach Diavolo owned in the Human World. The beach was protected by a magical barrier, cloaking it from anyone not authorized to be there. You and the brothers were free to do whatever you wished, including using magic.

It had been a very full day. In the morning you'd surfed a little with Beel, needing to relearn most of what he’d taught you before. And then as soon as you got back to shore, you’d been pulled into a water fight “to the death” that had begun when Satan dumped a handful of sand down Lucifer’s rash guard while he was resting in the shade. You’d mostly been used as a shield between Satan and Mammon against Lucifer. You didn't really mind, though, since you got to see Lucifer's conflicted expression every time he faced you; not that it had really saved you in the end, you’d ended up soaked anyway. Then, Asmo had whisked you away to collect shells in the water with him, with the assistance of mercandy. You’d so enjoyed being merpeople together on your last beach trip that this was truly a treat to experience again. In the water you’d gotten to watch Levi swimming with Lotan, from a distance, of course. Satisfied with the shells you’d collected, you and Asmo dragged yourselves back onto the beach and fell asleep under the umbrella with Belphie, completely exhausted from all the swimming you’d done. You hadn't woken up until the sun had shifted and you were no longer in the shade. At the end of the day, you and the brothers got to watch porpoises breaching in the distance as the sunset lit the sea in shades of pink and gold.

You were grateful the beach Diavolo had lent you came with a vacation home (more like a mansion) just steps away from the shore.

“I call the first shower!” Mammon declared, kicking off his flip-flops.

Levi grabbed his arm before he could run up the stairs. “No, I get the first shower. There’s a raid starting in an hour and I want to login early.”

“Too bad, little bro,” Mammon wrenched his arm out of Levi’s grip. “Hierarchy says I get to go first since I'm older.”

“Really, Mammon, if that’s the case then I’ll be taking the first shower.” said Lucifer.

The three oldest brothers shared one of the mansion’s bathrooms, while the youngest shared another (minus Asmo, since Barbatos had set up a portal to his bathroom at the House of Lamentation). You had your own private bathroom as well, but you didn't mind letting the brothers use it from time to time. It seemed like that would be happening tonight if you ever hoped to have a peaceful dinner.

“One of you can use my bathroom tonight,” You left the three oldest brothers in the foyer to argue, now that an offer to use your bathroom was on the table. You needed some water, you were starting to get a headache, you’d probably had too much sun.

Beel was already in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for something. Belphie was nearby, sitting at the kitchen island as he rested his cheek on the cool marble counter.

“We’ll have dinner soon, Beel, I just need a drink of water and I’ll get started cooking.”

Beel tossed you a water bottle before grabbing one for himself.

“Can I have a snack while I wait?” He bit into a nectarine, coming to lean against the counter.

“Well you’ve already started.” You teased. You took a long drink of water, mentally checking off all the ingredients you’d need to start dinner. Hopefully one or two of the brothers would agree to assist you, it would go much faster with help.

Beel rolled his cool water bottle against his neck, “I think I missed a spot when I reapplied my sunscreen,” he said. “Can you take a look for me?”

“Sure,” you slipped off the sunglasses you were still wearing as Beel turned around for you. “Oh, Beel I think-”

A blood-curdling scream tore through the mansion.

“Wha-” Belphie woke with a start.

You took of running upstairs, towards the source of the scream. You and the twins were the last to arrive at Asmo’s bathroom.

Asmo threw himself into your arms. “Oh, MC! I’m hideous!” He began to cry. His face was red everywhere except where his sunglasses had been, leaving a white impression of their shape behind, “I don't know how you can bear to look at me!”

“Asmo, you’re not hideous,” You stroked his hair. “I don’t think that’s even possible.”

“I’m not?” He sniffed.

“Not at all, you’re just a little…” You trailed off as you looked around the room. Lucifer, Levi, Satan, Beel, and Belphie (in addition to Asmo) were all severely sunburned. Several of them had already begun to shift uncomfortably. “You’re all-”

“MAMMON WHAT DID YOU DO?” Satan roared. Judging by the dark aura surrounding him, he was about to shift into his demon form.

“Wha’da’ya mean, what did I do?” Mammon ran to hide behind you for protection.

“Clearly this is your fault,” he seethed, the aura beginning to dissipate a little since you were in front of him, but his eyes were on Mammon, “We’ve been cursed, you probably wronged some Human World witch and now we’re all paying for it.”

“While that does sound like something he’d-” Lucifer began.

“You’re not cursed,” said Mammon, cutting him off. “You just have a sunburn.”

Satan paused. “You're saying this happened because we were outside in the sunlight?”

“Yeah,”

“Is this true, MC?” He looked at you.

You nodded, “It happens to some humans, too.”

“I did remind you to reapply your sunscreen earlier, Satan.” said Lucifer.

Satan growled. “I didn't think it would actually do anything. I’ve never had a sunburn before.” You noticed the new freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks. He would have looked so adorable if not for the anger glowing in his eyes.

“Really?” Beel asked.

“Me and Beel and Asmo used to get sunburned all the time when we snuck down to the Human World.” said Belphie.

“That was before sunscreen existed,” Asmo added. “I would never go out without putting it on now. Earlier I just–” He burst into tears again.

Belphie ignored him, continuing to talk to Satan, “You’ve been here a fair amount and it’s never happened?”

“I’m typically summoned to the Human World at night.” Satan answered flatly. “As are most demons, I’d wager.”

“Satan, your poor, virgin skin!” Asmo sobbed.

“My what?”

“Did anyone remember to reapply?” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, recalling that even he hadn’t remembered after the water fight, and then he’d even removed his rash guard, exposing himself further.

“I remembered, and I also put some on Belphie’s face,” said Beel. “But we got burned anyway,”

“What sunscreen did you use?” You asked.

“This one I got from Mammon,” Beel handed you his bottle of sunscreen. You read the label, it was 20 years past its expiration date and the brand name was misspelled.

You shot Mammon a look over your shoulder.

“Must’a got mixed up with my newer stock– uh, purchases.” he lied.

You looked around at the demons in front of you. All six of them were varying shades of red. Satan and Levi seemed to be in the worst condition as they’d been in full sun for most of the day. Asmo, Lucifer, and the twins hadn’t fared much better despite taking advantage of the umbrella’s shade. You could feel the heat of Asmo’s skin on yours, plus more warmth radiating off of Satan. It had to be so painful.

Satan turned back to you and Mammon. “Why don't you two seem to be affected?”

“I don’t get sunburns,” Mammon smirked before ducking behind you again when Satan turned his glare on him.

“Father blessed him with a golden tan complexion,” Asmo pouted. “He was like that when we were angels, too.”

“And you, MC, are you immune like Mammon or do you have some sort of talisman against the rays of the sun?” Satan asked. “I don’t understand how a human could be unaffected when we are all suffering.”

“I don’t have any special talismans, I put on sunscreen before I went outside just like everyone else,” You looked down at your arms. You hadn't been sunburned at all, and you hadn't reapplied your sunscreen either. Your eyes caught on the gold ring you wore on your finger.

“You might have been protected by my Ring of Light,” Lucifer said with a small smile, echoing your thoughts almost exactly.

The others nodded. It was a very powerful magical relic.

“Well now that we've cleared that up,” Satan said through thinly veiled rage. “How long is this agony supposed to last? It feels like spiders are crawling all over my skin.”

You really didn't want to tell him. Judging by the severity of his sunburn it might be… “A week?” you said. “Sometimes it takes longer. But most of the pain occurs in the first few days or so.”

Satan looked like he was about to explode with rage or drown Mammon in the bathtub. Maybe both.

Lucifer cut in before he could do anything. “As we are demons, our cell turnover is faster than humans, which will shorten our recovery time. It will be about 48 hours until we fully heal, I’d estimate, but that also means we’ll be feeling the worst of it tonight.”

***

You sent the sunburned demons downstairs to the living room, directing them to ice their skin while they waited, so you and Mammon could collect supplies. The mansion was well-stocked thanks to Diavolo and Barbatos preparing it for you ahead of time, but only with Human World essentials. They had wanted you to feel right at home. You doubted the brothers kept very many potion ingredients in their rooms, and definitely not anything that could give relief from a sunburn.

You had Mammon fetch the first aid kit from the kitchen cabinet while you looked through Asmo’s and Lucifer’s skincare collections to see if they had any skin-soothing products. When you were finished, the two of you deposited your loot on the living room’s coffee table. Mammon had found a tiny tube of lidocaine cream, one packet of colloidal oatmeal, and a small jar of aloe gel. You’d come up with a bottle of unscented body lotion and two small tubes of expensive healing ointment; you’d also found a half-full bottle of demon-strength ibuprofen in Lucifer's things, which would definitely be needed to get through the next couple of days. These were your only supplies. You might be able to get the aloe gel to stretch between your six sunburn victims but it would be pretty scarce. As for everything else… you’d cross that bridge when you got there.

Asmo and Beel got started slathering healing ointment and lotion on Belphie who was whining in his sleep.

You scooped some aloe gel into your hand so you could administer care to Satan as Mammon did the same with Levi.

Satan started reciting cat poems under his breath as you rubbed the cool gel into his skin as gently as you could.

“MC, there’s a bottle of Demonus in the basement fridge.” said Lucifer. He sat next to you, his perfect posture rigid, as if moving at all would cause him immense pain. “When you have a moment, please go get it.”

“Demonus would be really nice right now,” Asmo hummed, pressing a generous amount of healing ointment onto his own cheeks.

You gave a sympathetic smile, “You both know that’s just going to dehydrate you and make your skin feel worse.”

You knocked two ibuprofen into Lucifer’s palm as consolation. He gave you a look, taking the bottle from you. He poured out four more into his hand and then passed the rest to Asmo.

SMACK

Levi screamed at the top of his lungs.

“MAMMON!” You and Lucifer yelled at the same time.

You rushed to Levi’s side only to see the perfectly white handprint of Mammon’s slap contrasting with his lobster red skin. Levi began to cry, inhaling a ragged breath as tears started streaming down his face.

“He insulted me after all I’m doin’ for him?” Mammon defended himself. “He called me a scumbag!”

“Go help Lucifer,” you snapped.

“Ok, ok, I’m goin’.”

Levi couldn’t catch his breath, his shoulders convulsing as his sobs came out in a silent cry. It was a bit disturbing.

You gently placed your hand on the handprint. “May the vestiges of pain that linger within the demon before me be eliminated.” A gold flash sparkled under your hand as you recited the spell. Levi slumped against your shoulder, breathing once more. For once, he wasn't embarrassed that his bare skin was touching yours.

“Are you ok?” you asked him.

He sniffed a few times, still shaking, “The pain from the slap is gone but my skin still feels like it’s on fire,” he said, wiping away a tear.

You had a feeling the healing spell wouldn't be strong enough. It had been worth a try, though.

“MC,” Satan called your attention from the other side of the couch. “The aloe gel has dried and the infernal itching has returned.” He squirmed in his seat.

“Here, try this,” Mammon slid an ice pack over Satan’s shoulders.

“THAT’S MAKING IT WORSE!” Satan tore the ice pack from Mammon’s hands, throwing it at his face and knocking his sunglasses off.

“Ow!” Mammon rubbed the red mark just beginning to bloom on his cheek.

You sighed. This was proving more difficult than you’d expected. There wasn’t enough aloe gel to apply on each brother twice. You needed to come up with a solution.

“Is there any chance we can use a duplication spell on this?” You slid the jar to Mammon, who was still holding his cheek in pain.

He picked up the jar and scanned over the ingredients list. “There’s too much stuff in here, between the two of us we might end up with somethin’ similar but there’s also a chance it’ll make everything worse. I ain’t Lord Diavolo.”

You looked at the dwindling supplies on the table. Asmo and Beel had already exhausted the first tube of healing ointment. “That means we can’t duplicate any of that, either?”

“Probably not.”

“I’m hungry,” Beel complained.

Right. Everyone still needed dinner.

Lucifer handed you his credit card before Mammon had a chance to register what was happening. “Just buy anything we need. Supplies, takeout, I really don’t care right now.” He picked up the tube of lidocaine cream and squeezed the entire contents into his hand, rubbing half of it into his own chest and the other half into Satan’s shoulders.

Well, that certainly made things easier. You turned on an animated movie for them to watch while you and Mammon went to the kitchen. You picked a random takeout menu that was stuck to the fridge and ordered meals for everyone, and Mammon sat at the island and searched Akuzon for sunburn relief products on his D.D.D.

“Does Akuzon even deliver to the Human World?” You asked as you hung up the phone.

“They do for demon lords,” said Mammon as he added another item to the cart. “Levi pays for the premium shipping rate so they deliver anywhere.”

“You’re using Levi’s account?”

“Got locked outta mine…”

You sat next to him, helping him choose the best products to heal his brothers’ damaged skin. Lots of aloe gel and healing ointment, analgesic products too. You also purchased a balm that was supposedly infused with magic to speed up the healing process. The bill would be several hundred Grimm but you didn't think Lucifer would mind, considering the circumstances.

“We got three hour delivery, we just gotta keep ‘em happy ‘till then.” said Mammon.

“NO!” Asmo shrieked from the other room, right as the doorbell rang.

“That’s probably the food,” Mammon sighed, “Do you wanna find out what Asmo’s problem is or should I?”

You pressed your hand to your heart, your pulse still racing from being startled. “It would be better if I went to him,” You were less likely to start a fight between the brothers just by entering the room.

Mammon went to answer the door while you returned to the living room.

“Is everything alright?” You asked tentatively.

“Everything is not alright,” said Asmo. “How dare those disgusting eels tip over their boat, Ariel was just about to get her true love’s kiss!”

You breathed a sigh of relief. It was just about the movie.

“Mmm, eel…” Beel was almost drooling.

“Would the kiss have even worked?” Satan mused. “How could it be true love, Eric just barely learned her name and they’ve known each other for two days.”

“I wonder,” you smiled.

“Come sit with me, darling,” Asmo pulled you onto the couch between him and Lucifer, nuzzling into you, his skin still feverishly warm, “This movie is wonderful. Have you seen the sea witch’s makeup? I should try something like that for fun, don’t you think? It’s such an iconic look.”

They all seemed really into it, which left you pleasantly surprised. Satan was trying to figure out if the story would end the bittersweet way the original fairytale did, Lucifer argued that it wouldn't be appropriate for a children’s movie to end tragically; their conversation was very lighthearted and almost academic. Levi was using his tablet to draft cosplays of various characters from the film, asking you who you wanted to be. Beel was commenting about all the fish he’d like to eat every time they appeared onscreen, while Belphie hummed along to the score. Mammon brought in the food and then everyone was glad to eat while finishing the movie.

There wasn't a dry eye as the credits rolled after Ariel finally got her happy ending with her prince. Not even yours. A mermaid leaving her family to live with her true love in another realm, the irony wasn't lost on you.

“That was great,” said Mammon, dabbing at a tear with a handkerchief, “Should we watch another?”

Belphie’s shoulders shook as he cried quietly.

“What's wrong, Belphie?” Beel asked as all eyes turned to the youngest.

“M-my skin st-still h-hurts,” he hiccuped.

You were worried about that. They’d all been distracted by the movie for a while, the pain was bound to kick in once it ended.

“I’m starting to feel it again, too.” Lucifer popped a few more ibuprofen capsules.

“How much longer until the delivery, Mammon?” You asked.

He checked his D.D.D. “They’re a hundred stops away, should get here by ten.”

“That's two and a half hours from now,”

The brothers began to complain. You didn't blame them, they were still suffering, but it was starting to give you a headache on top of the one you already had. You needed to placate them and clearly Disney movies weren't enough.

They'd used up all of the supplies, the empty containers littering the table. All that was left was the packet of colloidal oatmeal. You picked it up.

Ingredients: Colloidal oatmeal 100%

“Everyone upstairs to Asmo’s bathroom,” you instructed. You took Mammon by the wrist and led him to the kitchen.

“Now what?” He asked.

“This has only one ingredient,” You held up the packet.

“So we can duplicate it. Good idea, MC!”

Mammon helped you locate a large mixing bowl and you emptied the packet into it. You both waved your hands over the bowl, reciting the duplication spell in unison. You had to repeat the spell six times to have enough for what you needed to do.

When you got upstairs, the brothers were all standing around the bathroom looking very uncomfortable, Asmo had already started filling the tub.

“Everyone needs to strip,” you tossed each of them a towel.

The room broke out in half-hearted groans. You were sure if their faces weren't so red from sunburn, most of them would have been blushing.

“It’s nothing I haven't seen before,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“What?” Mammon’s gaze shot to you.

“Nothing…” you gave an innocent smile.

Mammon crossed his arms, muttering something to himself.

“I c- I can’t strip in front of my brothers!” Levi whined.

“It’s no different than bathing at the hot springs,”

“Yeah but I usually–”

You raised an eyebrow, “Are you really in a position to be complaining, Leviathan?”

“N-no…” Levi sniffed.

“MC, look over here, ” Asmo cooed, winking. “I can strip for you, like a good boy.” He swayed his hips, dropping the towel from his shoulders. “Doo doo-doo doo-doo doo doo doo,” he was singing his own sexy background music.

You just stared at him.

Asmo bent down, giving you what was supposed to be a sensual smile, his lips curved wobbly and his eyes were hazed with pain and unshed tears as he moved. But the show must go on, as they say. “Touch me, tease me, feel me up,” He tossed his hair, sliding his hands to the waistband of his swim shorts, beginning to roll them down. “Touch me, tease me, feel me– AHH!” He screamed as the fabric brushed against his inflamed skin.

“Asmo!”

His swim shorts dropped to the ground unceremoniously, as he writhed in pain. Everywhere the shorts had previously covered was porcelain white. He squeaked, picking up the towel to cover himself. This was not how he wanted you to see him.

The others followed suit in a less dramatic fashion, all stripping out of their swimwear, some more bashful than others for being naked in front of you. You and Mammon dumped the contents of the bowl into the tub, allowing the running water to mix it around.

“Get in,” you said.

And they obeyed.

There was just enough room for the six of them to fit in the tub comfortably. They all relaxed in the warm water, their skin finally feeling soothed. They were quiet. Belphie fell asleep right away, and Satan’s eyes no longer glowed with barely concealed rage.

You sat down on the padded bench next to the tub, your muscles untensing at last, Mammon passed you a water bottle and a single demon-strength ibuprofen, just enough for a human headache.

“Thanks,” you took it, sinking deeper into the bench’s soft cushion.

“I’m gonna go put some music on,” he said.

“Sure, go ahead,” You said, your eyes slipping closed.

When Mammon returned with the portable speaker, you were fast asleep.

“Shh…” said Lucifer.

Mammon set the speaker down and lifted you into his arms.

“Thank you, MC,” the brothers each whispered as Mammon carried you off to your bedroom for a well-deserved rest.

“Sleep well,” said Mammon.

***

Cross-posted on AO3

#obey me #omswd #obey me shall we date #asmo obey me #asmodeus obey me #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #levi obey me #leviathan obey me #satan obey me #beel obey me #beelzebub obey me #belphegor obey me #belphie obey me #obey me fluff #obey me sickfic

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railingsofsorrow · 1 year

Text

Countdown

[s.reid x reader]

summary: Blood and wine were indistinguishable. You couldn't move, you couldn't breathe, the world was giving up on you (or was it the other way around?). You had to keep fighting. If there's one thing you are sure of is that they would find you. He would find you. You just didn't know how much longer you could take until then.

pairing: s.reid x f!reader

w.c: 6.7K

warnings/content: mentions of freud regarding complex mother/son relationships; tw!aggravated assault; tw!coercion caused by substance use; tw!mentions of child abuse, physical and emotional abuse; very tw!graphic violence be aware; tw!blood; tw!descriptions of injuries and scars; cursing; tw!suicide ideation; mentions of hallucinations, tw!abduction and tw!death of a relative; heavy descriptions of losing sense of time; crying; cm usual stuff; poor analysis of a profile cause I'm no aaron hotchner; in resume there's angst; mc cannot get a break. (tell me if I forgot anything plz)

A/N: oof that's a lot of trigger warnings. if you don't feel comfortable, feel free to leave, this isn't a light fic, quite the opposite. mc goes through a LOT. btw do you like wine? I do. (no pun intended) enjoy the reading!

navi

masterpost

follower celebration

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“Suffering is a terrible fire;

it either purifies

or destroys.”

[Oscar Wilde]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

According to Sigmund Freud, there’s a theory called “the Oedipus complex”. It happens when the child develops a sexual attraction to the opposite-sex parent, meaning that they wish to replace his father to possess his mother, from whom he craves affection.

Spencer’s voice rang through your head as you observed your surroundings. Your hands weren’t tied anymore but the red marks around your wrists made you feel as if the ropes were still there.

There are five stages in this condition, the fifth being the hardest to overcome, but not impossible. However, when the Oedipus complex is not resolved it could lead to an unhealthy attachment towards the opposite-sex parent in adulthood, besides the commitment issues and trouble involving same-sex rivalry.

You also recalled the Doctor detailing statistics about the topic, wildly gesticulating with his hands. But your head was fuzzy and you didn’t know whether your memories were true or if you were making them up anymore. Just as a means to bring you some type of comfort in that endless torture.

He was drugging you.

Paul Knox, the UnSub, was a white male in his mid-forties. Lived alone for most of his life, except for when he married Martha Moore; they stayed together for one year before the marriage ended. Paul worked on a construction site and was described by his coworkers as quiet, “always kept to himself”, and responsible. He always made sure his task of the day was completed before he went home.

His past wasn’t the easiest one. And it seemed as if he couldn’t get away from it. Paul spent his entire childhood being abused by both of his parents, his father, a strict man, sexually abused his wife, who would later take out her anger on her son, by wrapping a belt around his neck and squeezing it until he passed out — This was the signature behavior they found on the crime scenes.

Victimology told you and the team something as clear as day: every woman he murdered was a surrogate to his mother.

And you concluded you had pissed him off enough for him to abduct you and keep you the same way he was keeping his victims.

When you woke up, the only thing you could see was blood.

Blood whenever you stepped.

On your hands.

On your arms.

On your lips.

You could even taste the metallic liquid. And that made you terrified. Not more terrified – of course – than being locked up in a place for god-knows-how-long without a sense of reality. There was a physical fight hours before—or was it days? You couldn't know, time was different where you were. You had a slight chance of speculating if it was day or night due to the minimum crack on one of the walls. Your pinky would fit if anything.

You succeeded in breaking a plate of food he had brought at the back of his head; which barely confused the man as you attempted to sprint towards the door. Well, You did try. Right as you reached the gate, he yanked your hair back and knocked you out on a solid surface.

When you woke up, the first thought that crossed your mind was I'm dead.

You weren’t.

Thankfully, you had just passed out. Again.

Letting out a painful breath, you forced your eyes to stay open. You had to keep trying, you weren’t about to let him win that easily. Before your team found you — if they hadn’t already — you had to buy yourself some time. Once his obsession exceeds its peak, you wouldn't stand a chance.

The sound of another shard of glass clicking against the floor disturbed that deafening silence. Although, no more than actually taking a piece of glass out of your flesh.

You moaned in pain when it was finally out. Maybe being shot would hurt less because I'd blackout. But this hurts like a bitch.

Your breathing was unsteady and you were hyperventilating. There were at least five breathing exercises running through your head as you surveyed the room, looking for a way out. You had been placed in another corner. It was still the same room, but you were seeing it from another angle. This time you could walk; barely, but still. You refused to look at your feet with the trail of blood it left as you walked.

Focus. You need to find a way out.

You're a profiler. Profile him.

Forty-five.

White male.

Abandonment issues caused by his mother leaving him at the age of nine years old.

Each victim was a surrogate to his mother; he kept them for two days and then wrapped a belt around their throats to slash it postmortem. That's his M.O.

You had none of the victim characteristics. You were only unfortunate to be in the right place at the wrong time.

Emily and you were sent to investigate the supposed location the UnSub took his victims to; an old apartment downtown. However, he was onto you as soon as you entered the place. In a moment of distraction, you had been swiped with a chloroform wipe before Emily could blink.

What a cliché way to abduct someone.

On the first day, he covered your mouth with a dirty blanket but kept your hands and feet tied up tightly around a chair. You complied with everything he said, claiming you understood him and that he was so much better than his mother. Wrong move. At the mere mention of her, the guy completely lost it.

You could still feel the slap that made your head turn. No doubt his fingers were marked on your cheek.

Then, radio silence. Your brain worked wildly as you started to analyze your surroundings with undivided attention. There were two dark shelves a few meters away from you and a few boxes scattered around. The room was extremely dark, no windows, and carried a bitter smell. The floor was a blur to you, you didn't know were you were stepping.

Countless bottles on the shelves. It almost reminded you of—

Wait.

There was barely any light in the room, only through that tiny hole in the wall. You assumed it was around evening because of where the angle the shadow was reflecting upon.

1978. Read on the bottle.

This is a wine bottle.

I'm in a wine cellar.

Your happiness was short-lived as your vision blurred, causing you to stumble back slightly.

The bottle slipped from your fingers.

Your mind goes into wildfire when your feet stepped onto something sharp and, immediately, the familiar sensation of it deepening into your skin. You never realized your body was falling, the only thing you could actually grasp onto was the pain, the agony you felt. Your screams echoed through the walls, then your tears joined as a company.

Blood and wine were indistinguishable.

Your vision begins to gloss over, dark spots covering your eyes from reality. It would be only a matter of time until you drifted off again. Was it sad to say that the sensation was becoming familiar? It shouldn't be. You should be fighting for survival.

But your legs had pieces of glass sticking out and your left hand throbbed from an open wound from another piece you had pulled out.

You heaved a shaky exhale, grunting as you tried to step back from the broken bottle. Daring to take a look at your legs was the last you did before the door creaked open, a bitter smile spreading on your dry lips.

“Shit.”

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

The BAU’s technical analyst typed fast on her computer, her eyes quickly swapping between each screen. She was checking into possible locations Paul Knox could've taken his victims, excluding where the last body was found. His M.O. changed drastically from one night to the other, which meant he was escalating. And angry, extremely angry — Garcia couldn’t imagine something else after hearing the news you had been taken.

“As if this couldn’t get any more creepy…” The blonde mumbled under her breath, eyes scanning over her newfound footage. It was a big house, colonial style colored with a pastel yellow on its walls. The picture showed the Knox’s posing for the camera; mother, son, and husband. Left to right. Something irked her in that image and that’s why she hadn’t dwelled on it when they were looking for the prime suspects’ background. His first home wasn’t relevant, he didn't take his victims there.

They had been so wrong.

Her server picked up on a distinct signal. One that shouldn't be there in such an old building.

“He films it. Everything.” Emily handled five of the eighteen tapes they found in the UnSub’s apartment. Derek shook his head as he saw many names written on each of them.

“There’re eighteen here.” You frowned, counting for the third time. “It’s supposed to be seventeen. We found seventeen bodies.”

“We haven’t found the last one yet.”

And this is how you disappeared from their radar. The eighteenth woman was not found and you were abducted from right under their noses the night after you figured he kept souvenirs from his victims. Necklaces, earrings and those awful recordings.

When Penelope succeeded in hacking into the system, a camera was functioning properly. Just one. The place was dark, but the camera provided a poor lightening and from that, her breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, my god.” The technical analyst covered her mouth in astonishment. There you were, on her computer screen. There was no doubt. She's worked with you in the same environment for nearly five years. You were friends, coworkers, partners in crime. She knew you. And that was breaking her heart.

You were thrown over the floor against a shelf, your head lolling to the side as if you were too weak to lift it. “No, no, no,” Garcia exclaimed, tears trailing down her cheeks and ruining her make-up. The floor was damp with something and she can't even imagine what it was.

“Garcia?” Hotch's voice spoke through their connected microphone. “What is it?”

She had completely forgotten she was in a connected call.

The team was in the round table room, trying to figure out your whereabouts with the help of the clues they had until now. Which were minimal. They were very behind in the UnSub's game.

Garcia's gasp made everyone quit their work, to simply stare at the machine anxiously and wait for the woman's next words.

“We have to find her. Now!” Nothing else can stand out through the line like Penelope's frantic fingers typing fast.

Derek is the first to ask for clarification, “Baby girl, give us something. What happened?”

By now, everyone was on the edge of their seats with the tension.

The line pauses, and before anyone could complain, Penelope interjects in a weak voice, “Come to my cave. You need to see this.”

Once they arrive in Penelope's office, the sight is more than they expected. Way more.

The door opened and a figure walked into the dark room. They all watched with bated breath as Paul Knox crouched down to your weak body, drawing a hand to run through your cheek.

“That son of a—”

“What is that?” Spencer cut Derek off, eyes glued to the man's pocket, something was sticking out of it. His mind works faster than any other, the likelihood of the team having a breakthrough during a case because of his inputs is huge and he's quite proud of that — even though Spencer doesn't give himself much credit.

He feels the dumbest in the room right now.

Not only did he lose you the night you were taken but he couldn't find you. The geographical profile was redone five times by him, he analyzed every detail over and over again, his brain was on fire. But he failed. He failed. How could he do that when you needed him the most? Where was his knowledge and IQ of 187 when he needed it?

Penelope turned off the screen on an impulse, earning discontent reactions from everyone else. She didn't answer them as lots of things started popping up on the other computer screen.

“Garcia.” Spencer presses, jaw clenched. He was really trying to not yell at the technical analyst to find a location fucking faster or else instead of a living agent they would find a body to bury.

No. No, that wouldn't happen. That couldn't happen.

“I'm trying!”

“Try harder!” He yelled, causing every eye to give him impressed looks. Spencer Reid doesn’t scream, he doesn’t raise his voice, he doesn’t lose his cool. But he had never seen you in a pool of your own blood in an unknown place as a hostage before. He had never been so powerless. “He's gonna do something!” He reasoned his outburst with the team. How weren't they desperately losing their minds? Was this what they were like when he had been kidnapped by Tobias Hankel? Extremely collected and calm, just like in any other case? “Are we just going to sit here and watch? This is Y/N!”

The sound of the footage suddenly burst through the cave, causing everyone to freeze up.

“Stop. No, n— what is that? Get the fuck away from me— No!”

“Oh, my god,” Emily mumbles with a hand over her mouth. They weren’t able to see the footage, but hearing your screams was just as painful.

“Reid,” Hotch warned, knowing how hard this was being on him. He shouldn't stay there, it would only make things worse, as much as it pained Aaron what was happening — he was your friend before he was your boss — the situation required him to be the levelheaded one. He couldn't jeopardize your safety because of emotions. “Go take a walk.”

“No.” was Spencer's reply. Before he could snap at anyone else and make the tension in the room increase, a hand squeezed his shoulder.

“C'mon, kid.” Derek tugged his forearm.

“I'm not going anywhere—”

“Yes, yes, you are.” Derek sends him a pointed look, pushing him out of the room “C'mon, let's take a walk. Being like this isn't gonna help us find her.”

“Look,” JJ points to the moving image, Penelope had turned it back on due to Hotch’s request. They were too close to figure out your location and they needed to grasp every detail of wherever that room was. “It’s that a… needle?” That can’t be happening. Not again. JJ flinched back as the syringe was pressed against your neck and your cries started to quieten up. She had seen that film before, it was just a continuous nightmare by now. Spencer’s limp body flashed through her mind, a terrible flashback. Now, you. It wasn’t fair. Hotch took her out of her inner turmoil to say they had found her location. Emily was already out of the room.

“Find our girl. Please, find her.” Penelope gave her a pleading look, her glasses were smeared with tears.

Jenifer didn’t need to be told twice.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Next time you woke up you saw metal bars. There was a steady dripping sound resonating around. You didn't know where it came from, your senses were compromised by your dizziness; sometimes it was distant, sometimes it was right by your side.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Always three times then a pause.

Paul had put you in a cage. That much was clear, the quadrangle shape along with the metal bars. You could barely stretch out your legs all the way due to the limited space.

Something stirred in your sight and you realized you weren't alone in the room. He's still here.

Where are your instincts? Where are the tactics you use to save someone almost every day? And why aren't you making use of them right now?

The dripping stopped.

Something creaked and your face was being touched. Feeling the familiar reaction of a panic attack approaching, you tried to regulate your breath. This was not the time. You thought. But again, have you had control over anything over these past few days?

“Don't cry. I won't hurt you.”

When you got out of the high of whatever substance he had injected into your system, you winced at the numbness in your left foot. You moved your limbs around, attempting to sit down. He had cleaned you up. You were in different clothes, too. And the blood was gone.

He touched me.

Hetouchedmehetouchedmehetouchedmehetouchedm—

Stay focused.

“13…11…9…7.” You started counting in the odd-numbered pattern you learnt calms you down. “5…3…1…13— What is—” a red light in a corner of the room glinted at you. “Are you recording me?” You exhaled harshly, squinting your eyes. No, that wasn't the dizziness. The red light was probably there the whole time, but it remained unnoticeable. A wave of drowsiness almost knocks you out again but instead, you squeeze your nails against your tight to prevent sleeping — pain was better than the unknown. You didn't know what he did when you were out of it, though you had an idea just a minute ago. “You enjoy your souvenirs, don't you? Sick bastard!”

You're losing your temper, control yourself.

I can't.

I need to get out of here. I need to GET OUT.

“Let me out.” You whispered to nothing.

What takes you to a breaking point? Being held captive by a sociopath maniac or not knowing what to do to escape it?

All of your qualifications went down the drain. Suddenly you didn't have a PhD in Biopsychology.

Survival mode originally evolved to help us handle threats and situations that activate our stress-response systems. When the alternative does not involve escape or fighting, we are wired to freeze, a state of hyperarousal.

It's always better to go ahead with the instructions, otherwise, you might touch a rough spot and their only response will be to eliminate their target.

Your friends’ voices rang through your brain as if they were supposed to help you somehow.

The walls were closing in, rationality was out of the picture.

“Let me out of here, please!”

“Stop screaming. No one will hear.”

You turned towards the door, jaw clenching. You weren't just weak, you were angry. That shouldn't be happening to you, you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time and he took advantage of that.

“They will catch you.” You spat out. “You don't have a chance once they find you, Paul.”

He nodded, crouching down in front of the cage, hands gripping the sidebars. “I'm aware of that.”

That made you freeze.

So it was an all-or-nothing situation? If your probability of getting out of that alive was slim, now it was just ridiculous.

“You need to learn a lesson.” He said, unlocking the cage and crawling in. As much as you tucked yourself in the corner, he was still able to touch you, he was still able to be desperately close. “Beautiful, beautiful, Daisy... Why'd you hurt me like that?”

Daisy.

Daisy…

“Daisy... I did everything you asked me too. Why'd you leave me with him? The bad man? Why?”

The bad man.

Daisy and Caleb Knox, those were Paul’s parents.

At the age of nine Daisy left Paul to Caleb's care and ran away. She was never found.

It's always better to go ahead with the instructions. Play into his fantasy.

“I'm— I'm sorry,” you croaked out, testing the waters.

“Are you really?”

“He made...” Taking a deep breath You felt your tongue heavy and your head spin. You would pass out any minute. How much longer would you handle without food? You can't remember the last time you ate. “... he made me— do that. I wanted to protect you. I did. But he didn't— he didn't let me,” your breath was shallow and you felt yourself floating.

Stay awake.

“Liar.” He mumbled after a while. “Liar!” You didn't expect the slap when it came. The force made you stumble back, pressing your eyes and groaning in pain. “How can you keep lying to me after all these years? You slut! I was alone! With him!”

“I understand,” you replied, shakily, licking your lips as the copper taste filled your tastebuds. “But— but you love me. Don't you?” Opening your eyes, you realized he was a little farther than you expected. His eyes stared right into your soul with a kind of regret and disgust you had never seen. “You were always a good kid, Paul... Would never hurt your mom. Because you're good. Aren't you?”

A lot of things were at stake there. your life, mostly. If you as much as stepped into his anger then you would be done for.

In a blink of an eye he was in front of you again, “I am. I-I I am, mom.” Mom. That's good. He's falling for it. You could save your vomit for later.

Then, you saw the belt. The same one he uses on the victims for the final kill.

Death wasn't a thing to be afraid of. It's simply another part of life. Or, for the believers, eternal life.

You have never been scared of death in your twenty-five years of living. Not when the situation was related to you, at least. Which was completely different if someone on your team got injured badly, let alone your boyfriend. You didn't know what it was that whenever you were in danger's ways, no fear would kick in, only the nice feeling of adrenaline running through your veins.

However, this wasn't like most cases. You knew this one would break you to the core. You would never be the same after that. If you even get the chance to say after this case. Spencer had this experience. He had been abducted and tortured by Tobias Hankel; you've seen how the trauma affected him till this day.

You wondered if Spencer thought if he would get out alive. You wondered if, at some point in that cabin in the woods, he contemplated death as an alternative. Because God knew you were considering it.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Aaron Hotchner marched forward to the backyard of the Knox Mansion as Derek Morgan went in through the backdoor. Spencer Reid and Jennifer Jereau were ordered to enter through the front door.

The two-story manor carried a sense of luxury, although the smell was of something rotten from years back.

It was clear that the inheritance Paul Knox gained from his father had vanished as it had come. The house was almost in ruins, the strong smell of mold all around the walls immediately hit the newcomers. Derek and Aaron met inside close to the living room.

“It's all clear around the kitchen, Rossi,” Derek said, looking around and studying his surroundings. He quickly covered his nose when the smell reached his nostrils. “What is that smell?!”

“I don't know,” Rossi replied, kicking a knocked-over chair. “ There's been a struggle.”

Derek nodded, pointing towards a line of blood leading to the kitchen. It ended there.

“We're running out of time.” Spencer walked in the kitchen with JJ on his trail. “This is useless. She won't be up here. The camera Garcia hacked showed a dark room and it pointed to a door. Possibly the only way in and out.”

JJ nodded in affirmation, shoulders tensing. “Maybe a basement? There's no guest house, right?”

“There's a basement outside.” Rossi clarified. “Hotch is searching there. JJ and Reid search the second floor, Morgan and Prentiss you take the attic. I'll check that ridiculously big greenhouse outside.”

“It's not a basement,” Spencer said, cursing under his breath. Everyone stared at him confusedly. “That was not a basement. It—It looks like one. It's supposed to look like one but didn't you see the bottles and the shelves in the footage? And the liquid when she—” he sucked in a breath. “That's a wine cellar.” He concluded. How couldn't he have seen it before? It was being thrown at his face.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Hotch stepped towards the wood doors, drawing out his gun to tear apart the locket.

He tried as much as he could not to make a sound as he walked down the basement doors. If the smell in the house was bad, down there was suffocating.

“Paul, Paul listen to me! I'm sorry that I left, I'm sorry!”

He halted, surveying the area carefully. It was dark, but his weapon light helped him have a grip on his surroundings. That had definitely been your voice.

“Is Carina here?”

There was a pause.

Carina Grace. One of the missing girls, probably the eighteenth victim of Paul Knox.

“You told me I wasn't alone before, is she here, too, Paul?”

That was a bold move. Hotch knew what you were doing, despite the situation you were still doing your job, but this wouldn't end well.

“You have never been alone.”

Your crying out made him approach fast as he followed the sound. That place could fool anyone by the sight of it before you entered. The wood doors made it look like a small corner, but Hotch could see it as a masked labyrinth.

He kept aiming his gun ahead, entering a room of what he supposed was a wine cellar. Slow and steady steps guided by his instincts; his eyes surveyed every corner of the room until three tall shelves came into sight— and a shadow reflected by the sunlight that entered the only small window in the room.

His eyes narrowed when he saw it move and the silhouette of a gun was pressed to its hand. Hotch swiftly hid behind a near concrete pillar just as the man shot twice in the previous direction he had been in.

Idiot. Aaron mentally cursed, eyeing the only part of the room he hadn't checked yet, behind the shelves.

He saw a glimpse of metal. The UnSub was armed.

“Found her badge and bullet proof vest up here, Hotch.” JJ's voice rang through the radio. Loud enough for only Aaron to hear, thankfully. “The perimeters are being checked but I don't think—” He could hear the strain in her voice.

“The wine cellar isn't clear, yet.” Hotch said with his tone contained, eyes glued to the UnSub's shadow. He hasn't moved. What was this asshole planning to do? “He's here. Block all exits.”

“What about her?”

“She's here, too,” Hotch replied to Reid, squinting at the moving silhouette.

“You're in the basement, aren't you?” He breathed out at the sound of Emily's voice.

“Yes.”

“I'll meet you there.”

“There's another body here and he's armed.” Be careful.

Emily spoke to someone else and then he tuned everything out.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

“Spencer!” JJ tried to pull him back but he yanked his arm out of her reach, sprinting towards the backyard. “Would you calm down? You can't barge in like this!” She hissed in frustration.

He turned back and said through gritted-teeth. “If it were Will, would you be calm?”

She blinked at him, opening and closing her mouth in shock. “I—”

“You know how I feel, you've been there, so why do you keep asking me to calm down?” Spencer spat out.

JJ silently approached him by the entrance, swallowing the guilt her whole body was drowning in. “I'm sorry. I'm just trying to make you think, alright? Spence, she needs all of us. She needs you, so we need to think straight. Our goal is to get her out.” Alive.

“Do you think we can?”

He asked softly, voice small.

She squeezed his shoulder and widened the basement opening. “Yes, we can.” She stepped in, turning to him before he could enter. “Don't step away from me. We don't split up, ever, deal?”

That was something she always said whenever they were paired up in a situation like that. And that's when Spencer noticed that what he suffered didn't just affect him, but everyone else around him.

“Okay.”

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Hotch had finally caught sight of you. He could see your frame in a corner of the wall, the sunlight didn't help him visualize anything, it was too minimal. He didn't know whether you were awake or— he couldn't see. “Paul, do you think your mother would be proud of that behavior? Killing women? Hurting them?” He needed to get closer and for that, he had to get inside his mind.

“You don't understand,” Paul said calmly. Hotch hears beneath that contained tone, he was a walking time bomb. But they were on countdown before your location was even found, the team knew who Paul was, they knew how he escalated in the last weeks, and they knew his weak spot, too.

“You're right,” Hotch said, craning his neck to the side when he saw your voice. More like a whimper. Low, discreet, but there. You were alive. And he intended on keeping that way. “I don't understand. I didn't go through what you did. I was not left in a house by someone that's supposed to care for me. I was not left to a parent that never loved me.”

Silence.

“Paul. She deserves everything you did to her. Every beating. Every truth spat out on her face. Every day locked up here. She was supposed to be a good mother back then, why is she trying now, after all.”

“She never loved me.”

Bingo.

“Is that what you think?”

There was shuffling around and then a gun was pointing directly at him, but Hotch had a shelf to cover behind. Paul was finally in his aim, vulnerable. Not yet.

“Do you think people change, Agent?” Paul asked him, cocking the gun at him mockingly. He then looked back at you, tongue moving across his lips slowly. “I don't think so. That's why I didn't kill her. Yet.”

You said something else but Hotch couldn't hear. He wasn't close enough. You weren't safe yet. Not yet.

The clock was ticking.

“For some people, death is just another way out.”

Everything happened so fast his mind didn't grasp it until it happened.

He heard a click. Then the sound of gunfire exploded through the wine cellar.

Paul Knox was on the floor, his head had two gunshot wounds on the forehead and blood leaked through it. Eyes wide open. He didn't see it coming.

Quick and effective.

A perfect aim to kill.

He thought it would be Emily at the entrance, gun pointing right at Paul's head. He's seen her frustration at herself for losing you that day, it was a matter of time until she snapped.

But he was met with Spencer Reid barging into the wine cellar instead. A stunned JJ frozen at the entrance.

Reid's movements carried no hesitation as he dashed towards the body, snatched the keys out of his pockets and stepped back to unlock the cage you were in.

It was foolish to check if he was still alive. Two shots to the head - that was the outcome Hotch didn't want. Paul Knox was supposed to go to jail for the rest of his life. Because of the victims he terrorized, because of the days he stole from one of his own that she would never get back.

“We found Carina.” Derek told him as they watched you being pulled into the ambulance. He didn't need to be told that they only found her body. Carina Grace had been missing for a month. “Same way as the other girls.”

“Safe to say he won't be dreaming about hurting anyone else.” Rossi made the comment as a body bag was transferred out of the wine cellar.

Hotch glanced towards Reid, who had just entered the ambulance by your side.

He would lecture him later. The only thing that mattered now was that you were safe.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

When you fluttered your eyes open, you quickly shut them again. The lights were strong and forceful. Light. Was this the sunlight? Had he dumped your body somewhere? Were you finally dead and this was your spirit floating over what was left of you?

You hadn't felt that cool air in days. It almost felt like air-conditioning. A soft fabric wrinkled between your fingers and your leg… you could move it. You could feel it. There was no numbness.

“Take a deep breath. It's okay, you're safe.”

You're hallucinating. Because what you were hearing didn't make any sense. It couldn't be. Your head was searching for ways to bring your relief. That's the only reasonable answer.

Reasonable. What about this situation is reasonable?

“You're safe,” He repeated.

You forced your eyelids open, despite the bothersome whiteness. The first thing you saw was Spencer, his honey brown eyes with heavy bags of sleepless nights around them, his soft smile that threatened to spill the sadness hanging over him.

You could touch his hand.

But the calm doesn't last for long.

“You're not here.” You snatched your fingers away.

This is not real. I'm dreaming again.

Hurt flashed through his eyes. “I am.”

“That's not you.”

“That's me, sweetheart. This is real, we got you out—”

“No!”

He flinched back, watching as the heart monitor went off. A group of nurses entered the room to check the commotion; it took five people to hold you down. He never saw you like that. That's anger, that pain. He'd never seen it in your eyes. JJ had to pull him out of the room otherwise he would stay there, frozen.

You weren't seeing him.

He provoked that nervous breakdown.

“Stop. Hey, don't do this,” he could feel air entering his lungs but his chest hurt. “Spencer, this isn't—”

“Don't.” He said shortly, shaking his head. “I shouldn't have…” He stared at his hands as if they had committed a crime, trying to blink away his tears.

“This isn't your fault, Spence.”

“I should've figured it out sooner.” He said, burying his head between his hands. “I do it all the time. Why couldn't I do it now, why couldn't I find her sooner?”

Sobs racked through his body and he felt arms wrapping around him some sort of comfort. He didn't feel it. He wanted you. He wanted to make you feel better, he didn't need to be taken care of. He didn't deserve it.

“It wasn't your fault,” JJ repeated, tightening her hold on him. “We were all in this. And she's fine now. She's safe.”

“She'll never be fine again.” He mumbled through her shirt. It physically pained him to see you like this, as if your mind was playing you. The worst was that he knew what that felt like. He wished he didn't. Actually, he wished that it was him instead. He'd go through it all again just to spare you of that trauma. That haunting pain that would follow you and make you doubt everything.

He didn’t mean that he didn’t want you to be fine, of course, he wanted it. That kind of trauma, however, doesn’t just let you go, it’s like a shadow looming over you, a tall ghost.

I should've found her sooner. He couldn't stop thinking that. I should've found her sooner.

An hour passed and nobody moved from the waiting room. They were anxious and on edge waiting for an update. Penelope had drifted off on Derek's shoulder a few minutes ago, Emily had bitten all of her cuticles as much as Rossi reprimanded her on it, Hotch would leave and come back with coffee refills and JJ had left a while ago to speak to Will and her kids. As for Spencer, he was just there. Not mentally, just physically.

He needed to see you okay to function again.

“She'll need you.” He snapped around to Hotch's voice. At some point, his feet reached the end of the hall, a cup of water in his hands. He wasn't even thirsty. “She'll need you when she wakes up. More than anyone else.” His boss added.

Spencer knew what he meant by that. It wasn't just in the literal sense.

“I know.” He responded.

“Then you need to be there.”

Get a grip on yourself.

“I will.” Spencer swallowed hard, looking up at him. “I will.” He repeated, throwing the cup on the trash can and taking a deep breath. Hotch squeezed his shoulder reassuringly on his way back.

When the doctor called him back to the room, you were already awake.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

“Spencer?”

You croaked out, blinking multiple times to undo the blurred image of the long-haired genius.

“Hi,” he replied, lowering to the seat beside your bed. You oversaw his movements carefully. He looked shaken up but he mustered one of those smiles you were done for from the first day you walked in the Bureau.

“Can you tell me something?” You requested, clearing your throat. You didn’t trust your senses, but it sounded and looked like your boyfriend. Your mind couldn’t play sturdy tricks like that, could it?

Outsretching your arm long enough to reach him, you nudged his hand. He pulled the chair closer and intertwined your fingers. That was the first time you felt warmth in days.

“What about?”

“Something only you would know.”

Bring me back to reality.

He sighed, lifting your palm to his cheek. “You hate the color gray,” his eyes locked into yours as he recalled your words from a few months ago when you had revealed this to him. “It was your brother's favorite color. He wore it all the time. When he died, you could never look at anything gray because it would remind you of him.”

You stayed quiet.

“You hate when people keep telling you to wear your hair down because it looks pretty. You know it does, but you feel uncomfortable with the strands touching your neck. You love sunlight the same amount you love cloudy days – not thunderstorms, you’re scared of those. Especially lightning.” You let out a tearful chuckle to which he grinned. “You have a tattoo on the inner side of your left thigh, it's the page number and the line order of your favorite Norwegian Wood edition, your favorite book. You had a secret obsession with the theme from that animated movie…” his voice trailed off, a crease between his brows.

“You mean Let it go from Frozen?”

Spencer’s lips twisted in a pout, “Sorry if I don’t know that much about pop culture.”

“You’re hopeless at it, Spence.”

“I’m not that bad.” He rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How are you feeling?” He asked, eyes softening. You traced the tip of his nose, eyes scanning his features so you’d cement it to your brain.

“Better,” you replied. It was the truth. He nodded, brushing a strand behind your ear gently. “Thank you.”

Spencer lifted his chin to glimpse at you, disappointment draping over his gaze. “I didn’t do anything.” Disappointment at himself. The failure that he was during the case when you needed him the most. You furrowed your brows at the tear trailing down his cheek, drying it with your thumb. Reaching for his arms, you waited until he adjusted enough at the edge of your bed so you could rest your head on his chest. His heartbeat rang through your ears like a long-awaited tune.

“I know you did, Spencer. All of you did. Hey,” you tapped his chin so he could meet your eyes. “I'm here, aren't I?”

He frowned. “You almost weren't.”

“But I am,” you insisted. Your gaze darkened and you shifted on the bed causing the thin blanket to fall off one of your legs. You were all bandaged up, literally. “You know, I… I lost track of time. After the first two days I nearly went crazy. I knew you'd find me but I— I—”

“You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready.” Spencer reassured you softly. He saw the way you stared at your legs, it was the scars beneath the bandages that you were seeing. And the ones beyond your body. “I love you,” he mumbled against your hair, caressing your arms and cradling you into his hold. “We got you out. You're safe now, alright? I promise.”

You resigned with a long breath, burying your face in his shoulder. That heaviness brewing over your thoughts vanished under his touch, wrapping safety around you instead.

“I love you too, Spencer.” You said, curling into his side. Now that you knew you were safe, you could feel the exhaustion weighing down your eyelids. “Can you stay?”

He hummed, tucking his chin above your head and shifting on the bed for a better position. It wasn't the most comfortable setting and you two would probably — certainly — wake up with your backs hurting. But Spencer would do anything for you.

“I won't go anywhere, don't worry.”

That was what comfort felt like. You weren't dreaming. That was real.

The nightmare was finally over.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Isn’t it funny how day by day

nothing changes,

but when you look back,

everything is different. ”

[C.S. Lewis]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

sources used: [1]; [2]; [3]

taglist: @lilyviolets

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid angst #criminal minds imagine #countdown

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