#(this is the opposite of a problem i love that everyone has so much to say about the new episodes)

[accirax]

hey! i was wondering about eden’s emotional cg scenes with teruko at the end of ep14; if eden does happen to be the culprit, how would it affect her characterisation? personally, i can’t help but see it in a negative light, one which dampens her impact on arei, teruko and others with her ‘rational optimism’ and general kindness. if eden believed arei wanted to be friends with her, and was willing to reciprocate it, would eden really kill her in cold blood?? if her tears at the end of ep14 were genuine, would it go against her ultimately being the blackened?

tl:dr: how would you justify eden’s last moments at the end of ep14, if she were the culprit? it felt truly genuine to me, but i can’t help but notice her suspicious behaviour and inconsistencies in regards to the ch2 murder :(

(sorry, i’ve never done an ask before!! apologies if this is worded poorly.)

Can Eden Still Be the Culprit (Again)?

Haha, it figures that, even if I didn't choose to cover it in my Episode 14 Dissection, I'd still wind up analyzing what was going on in that scene anyways. Glad you're curious to hear my thoughts! (And don't worry, you phrased everything perfectly!)

The truth is, I didn't initially go over it because I wanted to post my thoughts on the day after the episode aired I, too, am somewhat confused as to how Eden could say all of that and still potentially be the blackened. However, as someone who still believes that Eden could be the blackened, it's probably a good idea if I figure out for myself what the hell this scene means in the context of DRDT at large if votes for Eden are close at hand. And potentially preempt some of the backlash that might arise if they are.

Just know that I, too, think that some of my points might be a bit of a stretch sometimes. We cool? Cool. Let's get analyzing.

SPOILERS for DRDT through Chapter 12 Episode 14, as well as Chapter 2 of THH and Chapter 1 of SDR2, and a WARNING that we will (obviously) be discussing Eden!culprit throughout this post.

For Eden's words and actions to make sense under the preconception that she is the killer, I think there are only three major roads you can take.

NUMBER ONE: EDEN IS A LYING, MANIPULATIVE, SCUMBAGGY PIECE OF SHIT

This option... is not great. Everybody agrees that it is not great. I hesitate to use the word "bad," because I think that people are way too hasty to call things "bad writing" (especially before they've even happened), but... I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty bad.

Basically, what it says on the tin. Just like David, Eden has actually been a liar and a manipulator the whole time. She doesn't actually believe anything she said about optimism or the power of friendship, and was 100% using that attitude the whole time to get everybody's guards down. A character like that would have no problem saying whatever the hell she needed to say in order to get others to pity and therefore not vote for her.

I don't like this one because it fully invalidates everything that we've seen from Eden so far. For someone like David-- or, say, Nagito-- even in the midst of their big heel turn, there are parts of their previous characterization that are still salvageable. Teruko caught David being a hater on literally Day 1, and it was easy to read into his outbursts of anger and insane nosiness to expect that his personality wasn't really as bright as his stars. Similarly, even if Hajime got along with Nagito, he was still sort of a creepy and off-putting guy, and everything about his love of hope stayed as strong as ever. For Eden to suddenly turn to the dark side would truly come out of nowhere. Other than... I don't know, liking to bake?, I don't think there are any aspects of Eden's former characterization that would remain. Not that her character would remain in the story for much longer, but, whatever.

I'm going to discount this option because I have faith in DRDTdev's writing, and I don't think he would suddenly want to abandon the Eden character he's been strongly developing over the past two chapters. Again, I refuse to call anything bad writing until the Chapter at least, if not the story as a whole, is wrapped up, but there's a reason why everyone's first instinct is to hate this idea.

NUMBER TWO: EDEN IS THE BLACKENED BUT DOESN'T KNOW IT

Basically, Eden is able to be so genuine because she either forgot or didn't know that she was the one to kill Arei, but we'll still be able to convict her in the end because all of the evidence points to her. How would this work? Well, sorastar6 came up with a theory that Eden might have killed Arei but blocked it out of her memory. It could also be something where, like, someone else put her up to it and she accidentally let go of the rope or whatever to kill Arei without realizing it. (That idea is loosely based off of a-student-out-of-time's theory of David manipulating Hu to kill J-dressed-as-Arei-- hopefully if they read this, they won't mind me using their theory as a logistical basis off of which to accuse Eden 😅)

However, I don't think either of these cases are particularly likely either. The murder method is so complicated and clearly premeditated that it would be really hard to trick someone into operating it without realizing it at all. And, if Eden killing Arei traumatized her so much that she lost multiple hours of memory then you'd think she'd just... not do it. I respect the hard work and creativity of both of these theorists, but I'll be passing on this option as well.

NUMBER THREE: EDEN FEELS REALLY, REALLY GUILTY ABOUT IT

Okay, so I maybe-sorta-lied: there are probably other ways that you could interpret Eden's emotional reactions to talking about Arei's death other than specifically her being guilty. However, given that guilt was already the justification I reached for the first Eden mini-breakdown in my Episode 13 Dissection, it may not come as a surprise that I'm staying on theme.

Before, I summarized that what Eden was saying to Levi was basically what she wanted to say or already said to herself. She knows that killing Arei was "wrong," so even though she thought it was the right thing to do, she wants to always remember Arei and acknowledge her faults as a form of penance. Also importantly, one facet of why Eden might be breaking down now is because (under the theory) she only learned that Arei truly wanted to change and be her friend in the Trial when David told her. It makes her feel extra guilty now knowing that she killed someone who wasn't just her bully, but someone who wanted to be better than that.

We're going to keep that rationale in mind as we now look through everything that Eden has to say at the end of Episode 14. The only thing of note that I will have to concede is that, even if Eden isn't a liar or a manipulator overall, any time she says anything along the lines of "I'm innocent!" or "I didn't kill Arei!", it has to be a boldface lie. Sorry, I don't like it either, but there's no way around it (outside of something like option 2). I otherwise want to claim that Eden is straight-up lying as little as possible, but this was kind of a gimme. But hey, that's why I have my doubts that any of this will turn out to be true as well.

Since this is its own post and not part of the Episode 14 Dissection, it means that I get 30 images to use on just this subject, hooray!

This is certainly a softball to start this defense off on. Eden can just be confused/upset that her efforts to evade being the blackened aren't working all of a sudden.

Similarly, this is just her rephrasing/challenging everyone's thoughts. Perhaps I should have cut out some of these beginning statements, but I'm always one for being thorough.

Don't worry, this is the last of these three. I will note, though, something that I actually only noticed on this watch-through. I was aware that Teruko and David both had shots that only showed their mouths and torsos with their eyes obscured in this episode, but apparently, Eden has one too. Of course, this could go either way: these shots could be reserved for the "major players" of this chapter-- the protagonist, killer, and someone who's clearly getting extra focus-- or, it could be more of a protag/antag/support thing. Or maybe DRDTdev just decided to start using this for highly emotional scenes.

Well, given that I'm trying to throw Eden under the bus in this post, it's clearly the first of the three. Don't listen to any clowns (<- me) who might tell you otherwise. (/j)

"Hold myself together" isn't as innocent-coded as it might seem on the surface. It seems pretty clear to me that Eden feels genuine sadness over Arei's passing no matter her role in Arei's death. However, being the blackened and having to keep a secret throughout the Trial might make coping with those emotions even more difficult. Fully breaking down in grief would be bad enough as an innocent, but as a blackened, it would basically be game over. Arei's death is the cause of her discomposure, which can still be equally true if she was the one to kill Arei.

This is quite possibly the line that I have the hardest time justifying in the context of Eden being guilty. I could obviously just say that she's lying here, but as I said at the start, I want to call what Eden says lies as minimally as possible. So, what are our other options?

Nico said earlier this episode that attempting to kill Ace was "the worst choice that [they'd] made in [their] life," so it could be fitting for both of our killers this chapter to feel the same way. After seeing what it was like to kill Arei and have everyone suspect you, Eden decides that whatever her motive for killing was wasn't worth it in the end. However, now that she's in this situation, she still has to stick with her initial plan (unless she wants to just die on the spot) because she can't go back, no matter how hard she tries--

For DRDT to enter its third chapter with the cast at their most hostile and downtrodden but also only having one killer who did so accidentally and two killers who deeply regretted it would be very interesting indeed.

Alternatively (or perhaps in combination), this could also be Eden being somewhat of a pessimist. If you're a blackened, you're generally hoping/expecting that everyone other than you will die. However, only one person's death is actually guaranteed-- your victim's. (Or two people's deaths if you kill two people, but that's not important to this case.) In theory, Eden choosing to kill Arei in particular doesn't really matter, because if she won the Class Trial, Arei would die anyways. However, now that Teruko has accused Eden, reality might be setting in for Eden as her dreams of being the one to escape flit away. In that case, she may be regretting her choice to victimize Arei-- if she's going to die for her attempt, she might at least wish that Arei got to live over some others.

I think the first option is probably the best from a thematic perspective, although both options certainly have their counterarguments.

Eden's (stellar) read on the "Why?" line definitely implies that she's frustrated, which could go either way. It's equally possible that she could be mad that people are suspecting her when she's innocent, or that she's upset that everyone is suddenly hounding her when she thought she was putting up a good front.

As for her leading question, if Eden is the killer, we've already seen her subtly mine for information at least once before. The conclusion of her last breakdown was her trying to ask David what really happened between him and Arei in the Relaxation Room. Now, asking this question might be intended to either shore up arguments she hopes to defend herself against, or force other people to "concede" that there are no reasons why Eden would have killed Arei. A bit of a dangerous gambit, but it's arguably more dangerous to have to come up with justifications about unknown arguments on the spot, especially when emotionally struggling.

Not gonna lie, though, the fact that she immediately followed up "why do you think I killed her" with "I cared about her!" also slants towards an innocent read. If you really were the culprit, I feel like you would start trying to argue against some of the solid evidence that people just presented (such as Levi bringing up the information required to write that note) with evidence of your own. Instead, Eden shoots straight for the emotional defense, even though no one was arguing that Eden never cared about Arei leading into this speech. (Arturo brings up her connection to Arei, but he never directly says it was because she didn't care.) It could speak to the fact that she was fully unprepared to be accused (because she didn't do it and had no idea about the tape).

However, Eden has always been a very emotional person, and it's possible that a big part of her intended defense was to say that she cared about Arei. Another interpretation is that Eden brought this up now because it's something she's insecure about. It sort of goes back to my idea that Eden is still desperately trying to cling to the idea that she's a "good person" despite her choice to kill. If that's true, the way that Eden is perceived as the killer might be very important to her. Like, obviously surviving the Trial itself is the most important thing, but Eden doesn't want anyone to misinterpret her as a monster on her path to the finish line.

I already explained why this line was sus as hell to me:

This distinction-- between "Arei was my friend" and "Arei could have been my friend"-- could be very telling down the line. Eden pauses mid-tear-filled rant to distinguish that Arei is not her friend, not because she's dead, but because they hadn't reached that point yet. Arei is not Eden's friend in death. What can that possibly mean other than that Eden killed Arei?

This is one of the lines that makes me most think that she is the blackened in this monologue. Because, seriously, why would she not have just said "Arei was my friend!" if there wasn't any doubt in her mind?

Alright, I think that about now is a good time for me to drop the thesis I've developed whilst reflecting on Eden's behavior and how to put all of the pieces together. Should I have said it earlier? Maybe, but where's the drama in that?

Basically, for starters, I don't think that Eden fully believed that Arei genuinely wanted to be her friend. As I've said before, Arei saving Eden from Arturo happened mere hours after Arei denounced her entire personality. It's super believable that Eden might think that Arei was just using her usual manipulative tricks to make Eden look like the fool again. However, despite all that, I don't think that Eden hated Arei, either. They were just in the exact same state that they were in before-- Arei as the bully and Eden as her target-- which Eden had never hated Arei for before. Eden wanted to help her and wanted to be friends with her, as she says in this screenshot, but that doesn't mean it could actually happen. Tragically, Eden determined that Arei wouldn't be able to change while being trapped in this killing game.

After that, Eden decides that she needs to kill to escape the school. The exact motives of which have puzzled Eden!culprit theorists for months, with current speculations still being that it may either have to do with her secret, the girl she kissed, or her family, who she told Levi she couldn't imagine living without. We've got time to cook on that in the post-Trial, if Eden is the killer. However, I also don't think that we should discount how scary the killing game has become.

Let's run through the events of Day 6 again, because it's a truly terrible day for Eden:

Eden wakes up in the morning and goes to rouse Teruko, who she has to blackmail in order to even get her to consider attending breakfast with the others. She tries to convince Teruko about the value of optimism, but Teruko only tells her that her worldview makes Teruko even less inclined to be her friend. Speaking of lack of friendship, Eden's chances at a peaceful breakfast-- which she had been hoping to use to bring everyone together-- are dashed when there are three separate shouting matches going on in the Dining Hall. Eden tries to assign her associates to break up the fights, but it goes terribly-- all she does is get Arturo and J mad at her, while Veronika only makes the situation between Ace and Nico worse.

After David's plan causes Charles (who has been making some of the most progress so far) to recall his traumatic past, Eden tries to invite Teruko and Arei to a fun event to brighten everyone's moods and right her wrongs of the past. Except that, when she does, Arei rejects her offer outright and brings up some of her biggest insecurities, causing Eden to run out of the room crying. Neither Teruko, who Eden has been trying super hard to befriend, nor David, who has (theoretically) been acting in the name of harmony and cooperation, run after her to offer her any comfort.

Despite David's lack of support, though, she still decides to support him by following his idea to let Arturo know about his secret. Trying to do so nearly costs her her life. She's just one unarmed 5'2" clockmaker against a clearly agitated 6'3" surgeon with a scalpel, and she's only saved by the bully who just said that Eden "utterly disgust[ed] her in every way." Arei now claims that she'd do anything for Eden, but is that just another setup through which Arei can make fun of her trusting nature in the future...? Eden wants to hope, but it's hard to do so when the person who just saved you was the one who told you you shouldn't.

Anyways, even despite a long afternoon of Nico being outed and a long night of being stalked by probably-Arturo, Eden is still trying to help Teruko pick up her clothes when she runs into Teruko in the Dress-Up Room. But since nothing can go right for Eden today, it's then when she and Teruko hear a loud noise, and they stumble upon Ace's body in the Gym-- the second murder attempt Eden has seen today. Nico is standing over Ace, really making it look like they killed him. Gosh, if only someone had been able to talk to the two of them this morning in a productive way, instead of making things worse. Thankfully, Ace is still alive, but less thankfully, he's now a convert to killing and wants to eliminate Nico. The day ends with Ace saying that this place is worse than death and Levi-- who Eden had just been praising for being kind and reliable-- giving up on his former friend.

Are you starting to see why Eden started planning murder and picked up the tape when she did?

Looking at it through that perspective, I don't even know if Eden needs a reason outside of the killing game to want to be the blackened and escape. If we can accept that Ace's motive would be to escape the situation in which he almost died, it feels like we should be able to acknowledge that Eden could be motivated by the exact same thing.

Obviously, it's harder to believe that Eden would kill than Ace, because Eden generally cares about everybody and Ace (other than Levi, once) didn't really like anyone. However, I, at least, don't think it would be totally narratively unsatisfying for Eden's reason for killing to be that her bandwidth for caring for others was overloaded, and with no one supporting her (and at least one party actively attacking her), her fears of the killing game got the better of her, if only just for a moment.

Getting back on track, Eden's terrible awful no good very bad day has inspired her to kill, but who does she take down as her victim? Well, as we've established before, if Eden wins, everyone will die anyways, so it's not like she's really "sparing anyone's life" by not killing them here. She's already made her peace with everyone as she knows them dying. And after that, despite the care she still has for Arei, she chooses Arei as her victim because of what Arei told her after Arturo attacked Eden. But, I'll reiterate, Eden doesn't hate Arei. Instead, Eden chooses Arei because she thinks Arei is the victim that will make her look the least suspicious.

Just because Eden doesn't believe that Arei really wanted to be her friend doesn't mean that other people won't. In fact, I think that Arturo would definitely believe that the two of them had turned over a new leaf. In this situation, Eden is aware that her best path to innocence is to play up her kindhearted personality in order to lead people to believe that she would never hurt a fly. Therefore, she decides to leave the note behind so that people will hear about the story of Arturo attacking her. In my Episode 14 dissection, I was spinning my wheels trying to figure out why Eden would possibly want anyone to find that note. However, this option would create a reason why Eden would want others to read the note. The mere fact that Arei decided to come to the Playground would serve as evidence that Arei really did care about Eden, and therefore make Eden seem more innocent. Maybe she overstepped a bit on revealing so much about Arturo's secret in the note, but given that everyone seems to believe that the killer overhearing the conversation was possible anyways, it's not a huge deal.

However, there is a contradiction here that you may have picked up on. Why would Eden count on using a note to draw Arei out to the Playground if she didn't believe that Arei would actually listen to her? I raise you a new idea: who says that note was actually real?

For those who believe that Eden isn't the killer, the thought that someone falsified writing that note isn't anything revolutionary. However, if other culprits could plant that note as a fake, who's to say that Eden didn't do the same?

I believe it was demodraws606 who recently raised the question of why Eden would even bother writing a note to Arei when she could have just gone up and knocked on her door. (Apologies, I tried to find the post in which they said that but I couldn't track it down 😔) That excellent question set off the domino chain that made me think... well, maybe she did.

Eden works through the night (14 hour shifts, baby) setting up the pieces of her murder contraption in the Playground and writing a fake note that she "sent" to Arei. However, instead of sending that note to Arei, she goes to Arei's room herself and knocks on her door at, like, 7 AM or something. Eden doesn't necessarily believe that Arei will answer, but, if she doesn't-- that's not the worst thing in the world, right? It's not like she's particularly pressed about the secrets deadline, and she left herself with enough time to put away her murder scheme if necessary. Unfortunate, but assuming that she lives another day, she can try again some other time. However, instead, Arei opens the door (because, unbeknownst to Arei, she really did want to be friends with Eden), sealing her fate.

This also opens the opportunity for the scene of knocking Arei out to be in the doorway of Arei's room, instead of in the Playground. I always wondered how the scuffs on the floor would be so contained to one area near the entrance to the Playground. Like, the whole rope setup must have been at least somewhat set up by the time Arei entered the Playground, right? If Arei saw that, why wouldn't she start running away? And, in the case of Eden as the culprit specifically, would she really be able to subdue Arei in such a small area? If Arei was knocked out in her room, we wouldn't be able to see any evidence of that happening, because no one searched her room. That also leaves open the opportunity for Eden to have tossed any items she used to knock out Arei into Arei's room, where no one would be able to find them. And, hell, let's rope the glove into this, too! If Arei was never even intending to get dressed up to the level of leaving her room, maybe she hadn't yet put on her glove when Eden taped her wrists! It's weak reasoning, but it's a reasoning, at least!

(Also, if you're wondering how the scuffs on the ground could have gotten there if Arei wasn't subdued in the Playground, sorastar6 also recently made a theory that the ground was actually scuffed up after the jugs broke and the turf became wet, and it was the killer walking through a puddle that messed up the ground.)

After that, yada yada, ropes and carousel, Arei dies, investigation, Class Trial.

Eden is trying her best to just lay low and survive the Class Trial, but a wrench is thrown her way when David reveals to her that, after she left the Playground, Arei confessed to David and Teruko that she actually wanted to change. This goes against everything that Eden thought. Part of her reason for murder was that no one was willing to work with her, and now she learns that she just killed the one person who actually was? That's terrible! It can't be! David, please tell me the rest of that story!!!

At this point, you might wonder why, if Eden feels horribly guilty about killing Arei and unsure of her former conviction that the best thing she could do would be to get out of here alive, she wouldn't just confess to the crime already. Beyond her desire to survive herself, I think it could be because she wants Arei's death to have meaning.

If Eden gives up, it means that she killed Arei for no reason. She made the huge, irreversible decision to kill Arei, and then decided to throw it away when things got tough. But she won't let herself brush away the deaths she caused just because it was inconvenient for her.

She won't let her emotions take precedence over the harm that she caused.

She has to acknowledge that Arei's death was her fault.

Which means that, just like Min did, she has to fight like a proper blackened would if she wants to prove that she cared about enough Arei to believe that her life had meaning.

And that's why Eden is so insistent that she didn't kill Arei because she hated her. She isn't someone who believed that Arei was fully incapable of change, and she still cared about Arei a lot. And so, she'll honor Arei's legacy by taking to heart what Arei said to her.

Those are my general thoughts on how to justify Eden's breakdown at the end of the episode-- although, obviously, we still have more to go. That awkward middle placement strikes again, huh? But, I do think it has its benefits, which is why I'm keeping it here. We get to balance some buildup before the point with the lens of seeing some of the dialogue after the point. Let's wrap up the rest of this a bit quicker, shall we?

Since we're a while from the start, let me just issue a refresher that this post is assuming that every time Eden says "I didn't kill Arei" she is just lying. Yes, it assumes that Eden is willing to lie in a Class Trial, but I think that any 18 year old would be capable of pulling that off if their life was at stake, no matter how sweet they may seem.

This could also be another instance of Eden assessing the situation via asking a question.

This line would be tying back to the assumption that Eden's main plan for getting away with the crime (other than possibly framing Nico with the murder method) was to pull the emotional defense that others wouldn't believe that she killed. The tears could still absolutely be borne of genuine fear, but the choice to reach for help from Teruko could be her planned fallback if things got dicey. If she is the killer, then the evidence should stack against her, meaning that "belief" is her best way out of receiving votes. This is her hail mary.

"This trial has been cruel to me" is 100% right if she is the blackened who got jumpscared by knowing that Arei cared. After she initially acted against her instincts to kill for the sake of her life, she then has to face consequences that she didn't even think were possible, all while keeping a straight face. For whoever the killer is, can you imagine how stressful it must have been to have David extend the Trial for so much longer with his nonsense? (Mondo with Byakuya vibes in Ch2, honestly. The THH parallels never rest.)

Again, we're saying "I didn't kill her" is a lie, while "I just wanted to help her" was the truth. Something more along the lines of "I just wanted to help Arei, but she seemingly rejected my every effort, so I killed her but without the knowledge that my help was actually getting through to her" is what we're aiming for here.

I decided to combine these two together because I didn't have much to say about the first one on its own. One interesting thing to note here is what thebadjoe pointed out: Eden says that friends are supposed to help each other out, yet in Chapter 2 Episode 3, she was the one telling Teruko that relationships aren't transactional. What changed between now and then?

Well, this is much more in keeping with Arei's "that's what friends do" philosophy, which could either be a further indication that she was taking Arei's words to heart (for better or for worse) or that she's just desperate enough that she needs to count on Teruko in this moment if she wants to survive (again, whether genuinely innocent or guilty). It could mean nothing, but it could also be an indication of Eden's more manipulative side, if she's making an emotional argument that goes against her own philosophy just because she knows it'll strike a chord with Teruko.

(Of course, you can basically counterbalance this "inconsistency" with the one that one post (yet ANOTHER post I cannot fucking re-find) pointed out with Ace saying "I would never commit a murder of my own" with him previously saying that he was "about to commit a murder of his own" on Nico. They can't both be the killer unless something really weird is going on, so at least one of these "inconsistencies" has to mean nothing.)

Also, while I wouldn't go so far as to say that Eden is faking her tears over Arei (because that's clearly not true) there's also room for Eden to be crying here because she feels bad about manipulating Teruko, but as established before, still feels like she has to go through with it. Her acting doesn't have to be impeccable if the crying is covering up the crying she would already be doing.

'Cause sometimes, the breaks you take in between sniffles can conceal the breaks you would be taking as you struggle to lie to Teruko's face! Hypothetically.

"Please trust me, Teruko. You're my only hope."

In this hypothetical, I think we have to assume that Eden is just genuinely surprised that the super-smart Teruko wasn't able to see through her act. It might come as a shock that the same Teruko who said that Eden's kindness made her want to stay farther away would now see Eden's pleading as a sign to protect her. (Another judgment of character that Eden made incorrectly.)

And now, for the other hardest part to justify...

With the combination of the soft music (the same music that plays during the "kindness isn't weakness" scene, mind you) and the bokeh lights and the line deliveries and everything, this does feel like pretty convincing evidence that Eden is not the killer. But, if we're talking about the world in which she is, I do think that she still feels genuinely relieved here. The hug isn't directly manipulative, it's just thanking Teruko for giving her another shot at life.

Furthermore, it's a confirmation that, in Teruko's eyes, Eden still isn't a "bad person"-- at least not yet. Eden needs to continue believing that she's a good person with good ideas if she wants to have any hopes of fighting back against the cold and cruel world she was telling Teruko about. If she's become just as cold and cruel as the rest of them, then there's no way for her to be optimistic or kind, and therefore, no way to escape the grief that's haunting her. Eden has yet to learn that a good person is not gold, so that's the only world that she sees.

And, that's Eden's last line of the episode! Before we wrap up, though, I do want to talk about how Eden being the culprit would affect the story as a whole, as you touched upon that in your ask. Mainly, I want to talk about the big problem that many people have with Eden being the killer: what would happen to Teruko if it's proven that one of her closest allies is the killer again? We don't want a repeat of Chapter 1, but how do you avoid that after that hug?

As is my M.O., I'm here to argue that there are two ways you can make the situation different: by making it better or making it worse. In terms of making it better, I think that thefandomenchantress argued for it well in this post. If Eden's gotten her most desperate moment out of the way now, she might have room to be a bit more accepting in her final moments, and be able to reassure Teruko that just because she killed doesn't mean nobody is worthy of trust. In fact, Eden is so sad now because she didn't have enough trust in Arei, and look where that landed her! We could end Eden off on at least being happy that she and Arei were both able to change in the ways that the other wanted for them (Arei becoming more helpful and Eden becoming more responsible) and her being happy that at least the other students get to live.

On the other hand, you could make it worse. Venus-is-thinking and I have discussed together before how different Min and Eden's situations are, because while Min only really tried getting close to Teruko after her crime was already committed, Eden has been trying to become Teruko's friend for ages, before the idea to murder even crossed her mind. This death would be even more personal, as it can more so be argued that Teruko's lack of trust is part of what drove Eden to kill, whereas with Min, it was just that Teruko initially trusting Min opened her more up to hurt. You might argue that this would just cause Teruko to pull away even more harshly (which is still bad), but that's not necessarily the case. Maybe her breakdown this time drives her to get in people's faces so that they'll die even faster and she can rip the bandage off. Along those lines, maybe she'd even try to get closer to those she least trusts right now (like David) because clearly, her curse will cause those who she spends the most time with to die. The circumstances around Teruko have changed, which means that we can't expect the same sort of pressure to necessarily yield the same result.

As for your concerns about Eden's impact on Arei and genuine-seeming emotions, hopefully my main dissertation answers how I'd explain that ^_^

If you're wondering how I feel... well, despite everything that I wrote, I'm honestly kinda thinking that it's Ace at this point. Don't get me wrong, I think that the Eden read is still out there, but given how seemingly little time we have until the culprit is revealed, there may not be enough time to unpack anything close to this before the gavel comes down. Everyone keeps posting their polls about who people think is the killer, and I keep flip-flopping on whether I choose Eden or Ace as my answer. I wouldn't be surprised if either of them did it, except that--

Well, let's be honest. At this point, I'm going to be flabbergasted by whoever the culprit is, just because it's them.

Thank you for the ask, and see you on Friday!

[thebleedingeffect]

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[nereidprinc3ss]

trolley problem

in which fem!reader has been gambling with her life and spencer reid is more than a little concerned

flangst, hurt/comfort warnings/tags: passive suicidal ideation from reader, she keeps risking her life, that really grinds Spencer’s gears, established relationship, existential dread, existential euphoria, lots of stuff about grief and death and self worth, not advocating for this, pretension from the author, blasphemy probably?, reader gets fuzzy from prescribed painkillers, arguing, hospital stuff, mention of sleep paralysis involving spiders, reader gets shot but she’s fineee, I pander to intro to philosophy takers, bau!reader, neurodivergent coded reader, if she’s not exactly like you I’m sorry, bean soup a/n: one day you’re in a writing slump literally the next you are in your notes app for six hours writing whatever the fuck this is but I think I love it even tho it’s weird and I hope u like it too!! btw this was gonna be called cotard's syndrome but then I never once talk abt cotard's but if u care that might be interesting context for the motif of not feeling human/alive, WC 3K

Spencer hasn’t spoken to you since the doctor left the room five minutes ago. 

The air is antiseptic as you take it deep into the hollows of your lungs and trap it there for a moment, trying to optimize oxygen intake without actually having to breathe very often. Hospital smell is as universal as it is suffocating. It reeks of everything but death—flowers, blood, bleach, vomit. A humiliating, desperate scramble to defy the very thing that defines mortality. It’s pathetic. It reminds you of the worst instances of failure and loss and denial in your life. It curdles your blood. Literally rots you from the inside out. 

You’ve had ample time to ponder that smell over the last few months because you keep ending up here, and some time ago you decided the institution of the hospital is inherently absurd. It’s stupid to think you could avoid the one absolute condition on your corporeal form: impermanence. It is the only thing that is promised, and people still waste their lives away running from it. It is the ultimate self-fulfilling prophecy. 

So around the time you acknowledged that hospitals are simply monuments to the self-importance of man, you gave up on trying too hard to preserve yourself. You’ve seen death too much and too often. You’ve tried staving it off with prayer and the miracles of modern medicine, and it never matters in the end because it’s all magical thinking anyway. All the wallowing and the bargaining and pleading never got you anywhere. 

You’ve accepted that from the moment you were born, you were marked for death. 

But you’re not a complete nihilist. You’re not even totally resigned to the abject certainty of death—because you’ve found a loophole.

Everyone has as many chances at escaping death as other people are willing to offer them at the cost of their own lives. Not many people are willing to make that trade—someone else’s life for their own—but you’ve decided you are. Because if not you, then who?

It’s not that you don’t see the value in your own life, as Spencer keeps making it sound. It’s just the opposite. You understand that you’ve got an extremely valuable resource, and you don’t just have to sit on it. There are things you can do. Choices you can make. Ways to defy death. 

Just… not yours. 

Or maybe you’re just in deep denial. 

Either way—this is a philosophy your boyfriend intentionally refuses to understand. He gets mad, or some kind of upset, every time you try to explain it. Usually he ends up leaving the room close to tears. You never feel good about it.

Right now he’s presumably trying to give you the silent treatment and not doing a very good job. 

“Stop holding your breath. Why are you—stop that.”

Spencer’s frowning, skin sallow and milk-blue under fluorescent lighting. Purple seeps from around his eyes like spilled wine on a white table cloth. Your stomach turns. 

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t tell you not to apologize. You don’t expect him to. 

“Why are you doing that? Does something hurt?”

Other than your entire bicep being on fire due to the 9 millimeter Luger it recently came into contact with?

“Not really. I just don’t like the smell of hospitals.”

At that, he gets stony again. Like, Medusa stony. You feel a tightening in your chest that has nothing to do with a lack of air. His arms are crossed. A silk lined blazer drapes over your lap, and you wonder if he’s cold in just that white button up. It’s translucent in this light, like onion skin, or maybe something less organic—the folds and wrinkles look like fabric, but lots of things look like something they aren’t. In the Pietá, Jesus lounges dead on his mother’s lap, his cheek pressed to her arm like either of them have warm flesh, and her skirts drape from her knees and fall to the ground in delicate folds just like Spencer’s jacket and looking at pictures of it you swear you could find comfort there too—but if you wanted to make space for yourself next to Jesus you’d have to do it with a chisel and mallet. You’re starting to think that’s what it’s going to take with Spencer, as well. 

“So stop walking into active gunfire. You’ll spend a lot less time here.”

Every deep sigh (of which there have been several) calcifies you further. Ironically, you never feel less alive than you do in a hospital. 

“I didn’t walk into active g—”

“I’m not debating it with you. It’s not a discussion.”

“So you’re just going to be pissed at me for the rest of forever? I mean, if it’s not a discussion—what are you gonna do? Break up with me?”

You feel yourself dripping poison in the well. Even as you say it. As his head tilts toward you slowly and intently from his spot against the wall, and his warning gaze is cold and unforgiving and weighs 3.35 tons.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Talk?”

“Don’t try and manipulate me by implying that there are no options between permissiveness and dumping you!”

“I’m not manipulating you. And I don’t need your permission to do anything.” 

The first part is an incredulous scoff as well as a blatant lie. You are manipulating him. Chisel and all. At least, you were trying to. It clearly doesn’t work very well. His jaw clenches.  

“Is this worth it to you? Fighting with me like we’re children solely so you don’t have to take accountability?”

“Accountability for what? I made a choice. I don’t regret it. You’re upset because I did my job.”

A beat. 

Silence always makes you feel the gravity of your words. 

“Do you believe that?”

His voice softens so much, so quickly, it splinters down the middle. 

You’ve never been known for your light touch. For someone who sees eviscerated bodies nearly every day, and prides herself on her evolved understanding of mortality, you often forget other people are not, in fact, impenetrable marble—they are flesh and blood and bone, and you’ve splattered yourself in the evidence of that. 

“What?” You murmur. You easily turn timid, when you’re afraid you’ve been too heavy-handed. Spencer’s seen you sob over the birds who hit the windowpane and never reappeared from the shrubbery—their delicate wings, their little beaks—he didn’t mean to, Spencer, and now he’s dead! He’s seen you spend forty minutes catching a spider with a cup and an envelope rather than smush it, even though you have reoccurring episodes of sleep paralysis wherein a giant arachnid is sitting on your chest, hissing and clacking its pincers. He knows you are, at your core, kind and good. 

It’s a little scary for someone to know that about you. It’s a little scary when you see your own vulnerability reflected in their eyes and the way they speak to you, the way you see it in him now. 

“Do you believe that the choices you make regarding your safety don’t concern me at all?”

“They’re… my choices to make,” you whisper, but you’re less sure than you were a minute ago. 

“I’m not talking about that—I’m talking about how it feels like you are trying to kill yourself every time we’re in the field.” His voice shakes. You swallow. “You have been hospitalized for four serious injuries sustained on the job in the past five months. Every time I bring it up, you—you talk about life like it’s optional for you. Like you’re not only willing to give it up but are actively looking to throw yourself in harm’s way every chance you get. You think that doesn’t terrify me?”

There’s a small chip in the paint on the wall next to him roughly the shape of Africa. 

“It’s not like that. I’m… I’m just having an unlucky streak.”

He snaps. 

“Luck isn’t going to get between you and a bullet. Ever.”

“It’s my job, Spencer.”

“No. It is a risk of the job. Not a defining feature or requirement. But you keep running toward gunfire like you have a quota to meet.”

“Spencer, I’m not doing it at you. I’m not trying to get myself hurt.”

“Well it doesn’t really feel like you’re trying to avoid it, either,” he shoots back immediately, and you feel the anguish radiating from him until it lodges in your own chest, like it was always yours. Maybe it was. 

You want to make it better, but you don’t know how, and even if you did, he’s pushing off the wall and crossing the room toward the door. 

“Where are you going?” You call, a little too desperately for your liking. 

“You need to eat something.”

Which translates roughly to he’s pissed and upset and he needs to leave the room. You’ve done this song and dance before. 

However, food and an absence of him are contenders for the absolute last two things you want right now. 

“Spencer, please don’t—”

But the door is already whooshing closed. 

You stare at the grey and white checkered floor. Light bounces off the waxen reflection—some sort of parallel universe you can’t reach, perhaps. The whole room is desaturated. A mechanical humming threatens to drive you insane. It doesn’t feel like a place for living humans. You’re not convinced you are one. 

When he comes back, maybe ten minutes later, nothing’s moved at all. In fact you’re not even sure you’ve been breathing. 

The door closes as quietly as it opens. 

This time, wordlessly, Spencer comes to you. You see his shoes first—his serious adult shoes. You wish he was wearing his Converse. 

Then you see the bottle of apple juice he’s cracking open for you. Blue lid. Same kind you always get. 

“You didn’t bring food.”

“You wouldn’t have eaten it.”

Fair enough. 

You take the bottle with your good arm and sip shallowly—all that adrenaline and the subsequent interpersonal strife has left you nauseous. The drink is too sweet. It clashes with the tang of metal in your mouth. 

Still, you drink enough to satisfy him, and then you’re tossing his jacket aside before balancing the bottle between your thighs so you can screw the lid back on. He doesn’t go back to the couch or his spot on the wall. 

Spencer doesn’t pull away when you lean into him, but it does take him a moment to reciprocate. You’re still grateful all the same when he cradles the back of your head to his stomach like you’re made of porcelain. 

“I don’t think you understand how upset I am,” he says quietly. 

Only Spencer Reid could be furious with you and still hold you like this. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“That’s not good enough. You need to stop risking your life like that.”

He doesn’t get it. Your brows flutter as they try to furrow but even holding that expression saps you. Maybe the pain meds are finally kicking in. 

“I just wanna help people.”

“That doesn’t explain to me or justify your urge to do it at the cost of your own life. We all want to help people, angel. The whole team. That’s why we do what we do. But we don’t run into shootouts. We don’t split off and provoke people with guns when we’re unarmed and unprepared.”

“But it worked. She got away.” You feel a spark of fulfillment at the memory of Gloria Sanchez in JJ’s arms just before the ambulance doors had slammed you into your first cage of the night. 

“We don’t know if he was going to kill her. He might not’ve fired at all if you didn’t go running toward him. That wasn’t strategic, it was reckless and irresponsible and you know that. I know you do. So something else is going on.”

The pressure in your nose that usually precipitates tears comes as a surprise. 

“I just—if that’s how I can save someone, why shouldn’t I, you know? Why do they have less of a right to live than I do just because they’ve been deprived of the choice? If I have a choice, and they don’t, I should choose to… to help them. That’s my job.”

For a long moment, you listen to your own breath, muffled by Spencer’s shirt, and the mechanical humming, and something dripping, and the low, buzzy chatter of nurses far down the hallway.

When Spencer next speaks you get the sense he’s holding a lot back. His voice is taut enough it wavers slightly. Taut enough that if he weren’t speaking so quietly he might be yelling. It’s like pinpricks all over your body—not enough to hurt, but enough to make sure you’re paying attention. 

“You can’t help anyone if you’re dead. Do you understand me?”

And yes, in theory, you do. But that doesn’t negate your original point. It only takes one life or death moment for you to utilize the most valuable resource you have. What happens after is no longer your concern. 

“On the psych evals you helped develop it asks if you think it’s appropriate to sacrifice the one to save the many. The answer is supposed to be no. If you say yes you get flagged. The FBI frowns upon… lever-pullers. And that’s exactly what I’m doing if I let one person die when I could’ve potentially saved them.”

“Protecting your own life is not pulling the lever. What you’re doing isn’t smart or morally righteous. You’re just throwing yourself across the tracks, too. If you were to fail a psych eval right now it would be because you’re passively suicidal. And you know what? The FBI also tends to frown upon self-immolative delusions of grandeur and girls who like to play sacrificial lamb.”

“’M not a… sacrificial lamb…”

“No,” Spencer agrees quietly, stroking your hair. “You’re not.”

And you can’t react to the fragility in his voice, or the content of his words, and the fact that when he says it he means something different—you can’t do anything about it. You can only catalogue it. You can only know that he loves you, and feel a little guilty about it.

Some time passes. You don’t know how long he remains standing so you can doze against him. He does not smell like the hospital. He’s the antidote for whatever grief they distill from widows and orphans before aerosolizing it through the whole place. 

“Baby?” He asks eventually. You know the lilt of it. He’s been thinking. 

“Hm?”

He hesitates. 

“Can we talk about you maybe taking some time off of work?”

“You heard the boss,” you mumble. “I can’t come in for at least a week.”

“I mean beyond that.”

You intend to respond, but by the time you open your mouth you’ve lost the prompt in all the brain fog. 

“You’re so comfy,” you murmur dreamily. “Thank you for being mad at me.”

If he responds, you miss it. 

You’re imagining the bed waiting for you at home, once the doctor is done observing you—warm, neatly made. Blankets woven with soft fibers. A mattress that will sink under your weight. You think of Spencer, who’s shaping himself to you, Spencer, who intentionally inhales when you exhale at night to make room for the rise and fall of your chest against his. You think of the imprint of his buttons on your cheek. You are both flesh and blood and bone. 

Strange, pill-induced half dreams and visions and memories take over. You’re in that alleyway again. That man fires. You don’t blink or scream or feel. 

Just before the bullet makes contact you’re standing in front of the Pietá. It’s massive. Spencer is there, too, holding your hand. 

You can’t actually see him, only, you know he’s there. You feel his warmth, his presence, when he leans over to whisper in your ear. The way you know him goes beyond sight. 

The Pietá—meaning the pity, in English—is 6’7” and six feet wide. It weighs 6,700 pounds. Michelangelo had to quarry the block of marble himself. He was only 25 when he finished. The Basilica keeps it behind bulletproof glass. 

Jesus and Mary behind bullet proof glass. 

God. Who’d try to kill Jesus a third time? He’s already dead. 

Besides—they’re both made of stone. Bullets would probably just ping right off of them. Or maybe they’d shatter just like you did. 

Probably not though. You’re not actually made of marble. You’ve no idea what it feels like to be a statue and get shot at. You sure know how it feels as a human, though—and it feels like shit. You don’t really know why you keep doing it. None of your reasons are good enough for Spencer, and he’s, generally speaking, pretty smart about some things. 

Maybe you’re tired of being human.

Maybe you’re tired of sleeping on your arm funny and waking up to a hand in your bed that doesn’t feel like yours and remembering all the hands you’ve held moments before they couldn’t hold yours back. Or tired of those moments where you are being held and it’s so unbelievably perfect and then someone has to let go, or when someone you love hugs you goodbye and you realize that there will always be a final I love you, or simply getting older and watching potential life paths fall away like rotten fruit to the ground. Maybe life is sometimes so good it hurts and you can’t bear it. So you tempt fate. You walk a tightrope because even if you fall and it can’t ever feel good again—at least it can’t hurt either. At least you won’t lose anymore. 

And yet. 

It does feel good, sometimes. Sort of often, actually. Even when it’s awful. 

Dead Jesus and Mary, with their marble skin and their bulletproof glass and their holiness and their virginity and all the other things they have that you don’t. Nobody can hurt them anymore. Not ever. 

Maybe that’s something you envy.

But you doubt they’ve ever been so terribly, wonderfully alive as you’ve been, or as comfortable as you are like this, leaning into Spencer’s warmth and his softness, in the hospital, or the Vatican, or your dreams. Your bicep was ruined but it’s healing. You are capable of ruin and rebirth in the same lifetime. In the same day, in the same hour. 

You doubt that in 520 years, behind bulletproof glass and unyielding, eternally flawless skin, they’ve ever felt as invincible as you do now. 

You doubt they ever could. 

[batsplat]

quick follow up to this bit

was also reminded of this valentino quote

He speaks about my shoulder like he was the best shoulder doctor in Melbourne Hospital.

what WERE they cooking

(I can't like. prove this because obviously we simply do not have solid 'evidence' for casey's thinking here either way, but given this is a speculative post about how I'd narrativise these rivalries.... do think the screenshot above is basically my theory for why casey had a thing about valentino's injuries. to such an extent that valentino picked up and commented on it! after laguna and throughout 2009, there were various waves of discourse about casey having been 'broken' by valentino - first due to casey's dip in form in 2008, then because he had to take some time off in 2009. the fact that it was an invisible illness that he himself could not explain in a sport that is all about the big, glaring obvious injuries - one that was treated as a sign of mental weakness, something he was ALWAYS susceptible to being accused of... very much the opposite of valentino's shoulder and leg in that sense, which was way easier to explain and was immediately taken seriously. my suspicion is that for casey, it was about not being extended the same grace as valentino was, being frustrated at how much leniency valentino was being granted when casey was always being harshly judged. of course, valentino (in classic demented rider fashion) was if anything downplaying the severity of the shoulder injury and only admitted after it was more or less healed that he'd been terrified by how long the recovery period had dragged on and had feared he would never be the same rider again. casey's lack of empathy on this count is completely justifiable and he does also obviously have a point, but it's still an interesting part of his character. it's what makes the rivalry with valentino so very interesting - there are lots and lots of ways in which valentino directly made casey's life miserable, but then there are other ways in which valentino's mere presence, his existence, someone whose treatment casey could compare his own to, that also contributed to casey's hatred towards him. firstly by getting more empathy than casey did and the general injustice in how the sport was 'always' on valentino's 'side' in a way it never was for casey, secondly by having this reputation of 'breaking' rivals that... well, y'know, valentino was presumably more than happy to be the beneficiary of the whole thing, but it's not like this was actually a line he spread himself, including with regards to casey. he didn't have to! it's kinda just... an awful coincidence that casey's 2009 absence was always going to be treated with suspicion and he HAPPENED to have a rival with valentino's very specific reputation?? the perfect storm! which gets you to this odd point where... if anything after that casey is the main instigator in terms of the sheer vitriol of the rivalry - but it's built on years of seething resentment that valentino at times almost seems taken aback by... and then reciprocates with interest because of course he does. because that's just how valentino ticks. fundamental lack of understanding for each other!! valentino kinda accidentally being casey's perfect foil!! casey having a million Legitimate Grievances against valentino but still somehow managing to project 85% of his other issues with the sport on valentino too!! they're soooooooooooooo. so!!)

if you were to direct a motogp movie (or make a one season of television) what season or rivalry would you make it about? and more interesting what artistic liberties would you take? it doesn’t have to be a straight up biopic bc imo those are often boring, instead it could be something like velvet goldmine (1998) aka fictional characters whose real life counterparts are pretty obvious, veering in like rpf territory. anyways👀

did you know. one time this guy put a curse on this other guy. and he never won a race again

anyway, look, I do feel like by this point that's the BORING answer from me, but obviously it's where my mind first went. I'm not sure I'd actually want it out there in film form because by now it's badly enough remembered that it's like, my cute little niche story, and I think there's something fun about the Wider World even within the motogp fandom not exactly getting how bonkers the whole thing was. (I know other humans have canonically watched motogp 2004 but I swear even journalists have forgotten some key key details and it's kinda annoying but also fun.) bold words from someone who's been blogging about it!! weird gatekeep-y instinct. but basically my job here is done as far as outreach is concerned - I wrote a very long post, now I get asks about it twice a week that allow me to think about it some more with the four other people who care, perfect balance. that rivalry doesn't need to go mainstream!! the whole point of it is that it's kinda cruel but narratively pleasing that it's gone under the radar, because it's another sign valentino won. but obviously, I cannot literally make a film about this, so the hypothetical repercussions I think maybe we can put aside for a moment here

okay I came back to this bit of the post after I increasingly got into of the spirit of coming up with dumb ideas, but it did make me flesh out what I'd even WANT from something like that. I'm with you anon, a lot of biopics are boring!! if you want to just know what happened, please just literally go and 'watch the races' and 'read books' like what are we actually getting here. you kinda want to give it a purpose for existing, right, a way of portraying real/mildly fictionalised events in a manner that is also taking some kind of stance on the material AND is doing stuff you can't do 'in real life'. thing is, look, you could make 2006 into a film, and I'm sure it'd be perfectly nice because it's fundamentally a solid underdog story (well, inherently winning a title with repsol honda is NOT being an underdog but you can write it that way), but also what are you doing beyond just telling people what happened? I feel like that generally about single seasons, they're not really doing anything for me. I was also turning around the biaggi/valentino rivalry in my head in part because that's the one valentino gave as his answer for 'rivalry he would turn into a film' (marc big wet eyes sitting right next to him), but like. a film about that rivalry from valentino's pov is fundamentally not something I'm interested in. you have all these isolated very memorable moments that make it work as a rivalry, like you can absolutely spin them into a dramatic yarn that goes through the genesis of their conflict to middle finger gate to punching gate to assen + donington + sachsenring + phillip island 2001 and it's basically *insert rousing music* successful coming of age. at most you can lean into the fact valentino became successful at being a dick. like idk it's fine but also what's the point? valentino is challenged in a sports context by biaggi, he's challenged because he realises his words have consequence and the press actually reports the words he says to journalists (the horror), but he is fundamentally not challenged on a personal level. that's the entire point, right? it's the ultimate comfort zone rivalry - biaggi is a dick who it is quite easy to hate and also reacts poorly to valentino's initial provocation. the animosity escalates and it is inherently fun to beat him. valentino is mean to him, but it's not like he even really crosses any lines to beat him. like you can make it into a film, and if you twisted the material a little bit you could make it satisfying, but I don't want to!

now the way the writing process of this post worked was that I was going to breeze through a bunch of non-sete/valentino rivalries and explain why I think some of them don't work for our purposes here, but then I ended up writing myself into changing my mind. so my take on the biaggi rivalry is that actually, you CAN make it work but it has to be from biaggi's perspective. basically, I think you've got to amadeus it (a web weave I have been thinking of making at some point btw). so,,, it's a meditation on talent and how unfair it all is, maybe minus the bit where salieri poisons amadeus (I know that doesn't happen in the film) or dresses up as amadeus' father to, y'know, make him write a requiem on his death bed. and it's not amadeus in that HERE, the clown prince gets a happy ending! but it's more like, in thematic terms, I think you have to zero in on this bit. biaggi didn't have parents who shoved him on a bike when he was three years old, he didn't have parents who were invested in his motorcycling career (or even necessarily particularly invested in him), he started the sport late and discovered that, yes, he did have a prodigious amount of skill in it - but one that he started honing far later than valentino did. he approached his career with a sort of grim resolve, surly and irascible and not interested in making friends with any of his competitors but very, very good. he goes away from the race track and dates all these models, he irritates fellow riders, he's not part of the gang and he's happy about it. he's very successful! four 250cc titles, wins his first ever race in 500cc at a time when doohan was very much winning everything. he's also just like,,,, an interesting and spiky enough character it's not hard to make him come alive

but then of course you have this gradual emergence of the amadeus character, the one who challenges his established position in the court of,, well... motorcycle racing, and also as the guy italians rooted for! and valentino's obviously, y'know, in so many ways the exact opposite from biaggi, and he's super young and cheerful and lively and is doing all his silly celebrations and is being a bit camp and goofy and treats motorcycle racing as a party (you really want to lean into the culture clash here, like in amadeus it's because you have stuffy austrian court vibes but here it's because everyone is having their bones broken every two minutes and just how... kinda grim a lot of motorcycle racing was). and he's also this innocent! yes, he insults biaggi, and yes, in retrospect we know valentino is kinda evil, but at the time he was a kid with a big mouth who was a little taken aback by how that biaggi feud sort of escalated beyond what he'd actually intended it to do! and biaggi just, hates him. and I think, sorry to the real man max biaggi here, but you've got to play with how once they're actually competing with each other, it's miserable how there's just this unbreachable gulf in talent. like, whatever biaggi does he cannot win! he isn't going to defeat valentino over the course of a full season! which is depressing and horrible and CRUEL, because there's this inevitability to the whole thing... and also! because valentino doesn't DESERVE it. and you don't have to go full salieri pleading with god to explain how god could give this CLOWN all this talent, but it's kinda the same vibe! how is it valentino, who is constantly just having a laff and canonically maybe wasn't the biggest gym-goer in the paddock and is just generally seen as, y'know, a bit of a dandy, this foppish clown who everyone loves and who doesn't have to work hard to be good - how is he the one who is winning so much!! it's miserable and unjust... and I think how you portray this is that you really emphasise the kinda, repetitive nature of the defeat. like, I think you probably want to make this into a non-linear narrative where all this biaggi backstory is communicated somehow but you don't just start it when he was born or whatever - you start it in 2001 when they're competing for a title and already hate each other. and then you heavy on the time loop vibes. the whole cinematic language and all that other shit should emphasise how all these weekends are structured in exactly the same way and if you're losing to this one guy, all these different weekends can start feeling the same. it bleeds into each other, it feels inescapable, you're trapped in this narrative you can't change... worst of all, you even return to the same places again and again - like play with that! biaggi keeps coming back to where they had the fist fight, to where valentino first insulted him all those years back. you play up the disorientation and the misery of it all, plus biaggi canonically gives us all this kinda messy freudian shit to play with like how he was dating 'valentina' and his relationship with her was falling apart because of how miserable valentino was making him. it's all there!!

ANYWAYS the way you conclude this story is!! welkom 2004!! so again we can artistic license this a little bit and, uh, ignore sete (though I do also think it's fun if you lean into biaggi being displaced as a rival and staring at them being friendly and happy with each other from the outside) - but the key bit is that valentino is finally making the big error. biaggi wasn't winning titles on a yamaha, since he left yamaha has gotten worse, now valentino is making this big mistake out of his own hubris. language of cinema that shit and make everything brighter and more hopeful.... the time loop is finally over, biaggi has escaped, this year will be different!!!! everyone in his circle agrees, valentino is fucked. step off the plane at welkom (pre season testing didn't happen in this universe) and it's literal dawn of a new day... staring out at the sun and finally, biaggi can move on, can live a new and different life. anyway. obviously we all know what's coming next - you have this big dramatic climactic race where biaggi throws himself at valentino again and again and again and he comes so close to winning it... but he doesn't. and you have valentino living his best life, being delighted, but the film is focusing on how like,,, we're bleaching the joy back out of biaggi's life, how actually he's returning to what he already knew. and it ends on the podium, with the camera focusing on biaggi on that fucking second step or zooming in or whatever (idk how cinema works) and it just finishes on this shot of biaggi dead-eyed in a bleak world, trapped again for eternity aka until the end of the 2005 season. done!! I'm not sure this is quite what valentino had in mind, but. well. that's how I'd do it

this is from the pushkin play from 1832 not the 1984 film but like. low key pushkin already kinda nailed the essence of sports rivalries in the 1830s and we just have to acknowledge that sometimes

right. so the casey rivalry is where I'm going to go completely off the wall. skip this bit to get to the slightly saner stuff. this is also one I fully admit to sometimes playing around with in my mind anyway, but. uh. I'm gonna be taking this one in just. well. places. I do have a vision here but I also don't quite know how to explain it in a way that doesn't make me sound like I've lost my mind, but well if you're still reading this then that's on you. so lemme get this out of the way: the classic sports biopic formula would work well with casey. if I had to point to a single rider I would sports biopic-ify, it's casey. so you have all this kinda,, obvious adversity that's easy to get across, and it's a narrative you can follow chronologically without too much trouble. you've got all the childhood stuff, the australian racing club not letting him join them, the move to britain, the rising through the ranks, it's also this very biopic-friendly 'nobody ever believed in him apart from like three people' stuff. and the premier class is also narratively satisfying, from the rocky rookie season to the kinda shock success to then all the lows of 2008 and 2009 and the physical ailments and the anxiety and then the switch to honda and the title and then him deciding to retire... that's all good stuff! you can absolutely biopic-ify it! gun to my head and sure, I can walk you through exactly what bits of his life I'd focus on and put in what order and so on, and I think ultimately you could make a very good sports biopic from that

[some mild gore to follow in this next section]

but also. thing is. that's fine. it's just not where I want to go here, because again I feel like at that point you can also pick up his autobiography and just read it - because what you're basically doing here is just filming that. and I get how this stuff works, you're bringing the story to a wider audience, you can show stuff in a different way in that medium etc etc, and that's all great but also I don't care about bringing stuff to a wider audience. I care about doing fun stuff in my brain. so what I'd actually do here is just, basically, go in the exact opposite direction and ditch all the realism. genuinely, ditch the live action stuff, we're going animated - what I'm interested in here is stuff where we need to be able to fully suspend our disbelief and lean into some surreal shit. I'm not going to bury the lede here: my idea is that you take that thing where casey said he hated how ducati was ruining the bike by letting valentino's yellow encroach on it and, basically,, just go all in on that bit. like come on, that is so singularly visually evocative, it truly captures a lot of what's going on thematically in that rivalry. (see also x and x for the most relevant casey posts.) casey sees valentino as the malevolent force, this infection! he associates him strongly with a specific colour, one that can be sickly or unnatural or just... evil. malignant, malicious, malevolent, all the m words. to casey, valentino is a personification of everything that is wrong with the sport. valentino is literally the walking manifestation for so many of his issues, from the dangerous riding to the lack of respect to the lying to the cult of personality to the obsession with image and the media to the backroom games to the politics to the injustice of how different riders are treated differently, like!! he's literally all of that! this is a topic for another post, but this plays out in a lot of kinda, weird and funky ways where it's a two way street and sometimes when casey talks about motogp you go 'actually I think that's just valentino?' (btw he also does this about 'europe' right I don't think those are europeans you hate casey that's literally just valentino) and sometimes when he talks about valentino it's kinda? this feels like it's about a little more than the bloke himself? and basically, right, I think you need to take this to its natural conclusion where casey used to admire him and look up to him and want to emulate him on track and then gets disillusioned when valentino's worshippers turn against casey and casey is the one to bring valentino down to earth and... listen, I think you need to play around with valentino being a literal god. and I think you need to have casey stab him to cover up the yellow on the ducati with blood

okay. look. the idea here, right, is that we're basically making the subtext text, and just digging into that process of 'bringing valentino back to earth', of taking on a god and having the audacity to succeed, and also treating valentino as this sort of. infection in his own mind. the bike is literally being infected!! casey may have left the ducati but he STILL has some fidelity and love for this project, those were his people he worked with, and now valentino is coming in and just twisting everything around himself!! but also I think how this functions is that, okay, so you have all this normal stuff that's the actual 'plot' in the 'real world', but the ISSUE with the real world is that there's a lot of stuff that just. isn't possible there. like the thing casey wants in that rivalry but is never going to have is... a captive audience. a big problem casey has in that rivalry is that he doesn't get the chance to actually say a lot of stuff to valentino. he starts using the media more and more and plays the game on valentino's level, but there's still this disconnect where mr straight talking is the valentino rival who valentino never really blanks or freezes out like... there's a disconnect! there's valentino the person, who casey never quite figures out how to just straight up hate, and then there's valentino the character, the racer, the rider, the god who casey DESPISES. but when they're doing small talk at pressers and podiums, casey doesn't get to talk to that version of valentino! he just talks to valentino the person, who obviously isn't literally a different person but is also not going to explain to casey where he's coming from, is he, and also isn't someone who casey can explain to where HE is coming from. and that gulf... it does bother casey. I don't think he can quite verbalise why either, but there's just... this creeping tension. I think it'd be easier for casey if valentino really were more of a caricature, just kinda a dick in all walks of life. and there's just these canonical hints of that... the way casey talks about how he's sure valentino as a guy is fine, but he never knew valentino like that, the whole 'I'd like to go with valentino for dinner to tell him where I was coming from in that rivalry' thing, like!! it's there

so basically EYE think what you should be doing is using the wonders of storytelling to actually. embrace that element. and just leave realism behind now and again. valentino is a god, he is literally worshipped, he's part of this pantheon that casey is trekking to reach. casey is brave enough to take him on in combat, he is the first one who is truly able to draw blood. he sees how valentino isn't just a god of joy or battles or speed or the SUN or any of that other stuff - he's a disease, an illness, a god who is also a false prophet... the worship never quite goes away, because who ever truly gets rid of their valentino rossi complex, but casey eventually is given the chance to face a chained valentino and kinda,,, ritualistically publicly humiliate him using the ducati as both this sick thing that has to be 'cured' and this symbol of valentino's failure. I'm sorry, visual language goes brr here, like chain him up, do weirdly eroticised torture idc!! (psst psst valentino's fucked up shoulder also extremely goes brr here, casey low key a teensy bit weird about valentino's injuries? his thing after the 2010 leg break where he goes 'why's everyone making such a big deal about this other people break their limbs too' and then after 2011 jerez immediately asking whether valentino's shoulder is okay in just a very obviously passive aggressive way. literally he opens with that, valentino isn't using it as an excuse or anything, for some reason it's already on casey's mind and I would politely contest it was out of genuine concern for valentino's wellbeing!! it's just kinda? I'm so compelled by it? I suppose it is kinda about how valentino's suffering gets taken more seriously than his own? how those absences are received differently by the motogp world? idk I find this fun because casey does know this is one thing valentino can't really be blamed for himself, so it just slips out a bit? but yeah, casey + valentino's injuries, nobody's talking about it but I sure will, let casey get weird and mean and a teensy bit sadistic about valentino's injuries in an artistic manner.) crucially I like animation as a medium here because I think it's easier to lean into surrealism when you don't have to hand hold the audience so much through the suspension of realism, also there's just some imagery you can do in cooler ways through animation where in live action it may just look. weird. (I think you can also do one of those things where you have a live action film with only those specific bits animated but also... why? it just feels like in live action you need more 'justifications' for things, like am I saying casey is having some weird hallucinations and is losing his mind? no I just want to have weird vision sequences ffs.) the colour stuff!! valentino/casey is big on the colour coding as a rivalry, to the extent casey is even, y'know, drawing attention to it in the literal text!! yellow and red are banger colours, valentino is big on imagery himself with all his sun + moon motifs, it's kind of all there to make the easy next step to kinda zany surreal imagery. ritualistic stabbing works better in animation, you can kinda get the blood to like. drip down and overwhelm the yellow illness that's slithered out across the bike

and. AND of course what this entire set up allows you to do is.... give them an opportunity to talk. they can't talk in real life! casey CAN'T give him his real thoughts on anything, and fundamentally valentino can't either. they're opponents. they're strangers who chat sometimes. it's not just that they aren't friends, it's that fundamentally they cannot be friends - because their ability to do their actual jobs depends on a certain level of professional distance. valentino of course does have a decent read on casey, and vice versa, because when you're figuring out how to defeat someone then (if you're valentino) you're looking to play the rider too. valentino's entire approach depends on focusing in on his rivals and attempting to throw them off, to make them unravel. he's watching casey closely!! the entire journey of casey's first three seasons in the premier class essentially becomes like, this god of their world focusing in on him. figuring him out. trying to gnaw away at him. obviously, animation also allows you to go big on the panopticon-y imagery which is kinda fundamental to their rivalry, because of their fundamentally oppositional stances to 'performing' for the ever present cameras where there IS a little bit of common ground in they have both struggled with it. but valentino isn't going to ever say that to casey! casey isn't going to open up to valentino! so if you give them,, you know, a different arena to express themselves, where casey actually has this external figure to talk to (as he's like, cutting him open I guess) whereas valentino actually is put in a position where he's allowed to respond, where he can taunt casey a little bit, where he can interrogate casey's approach and also the similarities between the two of them and how casey has been forced to become a little more like valentino to challenge him... because the thing is, right, valentino is so big on message discipline with his rivals and has completely stopped talking about that rivalry post mid 2013 that, first of all, you have this complete imbalance in who's been telling this story for the past decade, but second of all you kinda don't have a sense of what valentino would respond? idk!! I think this is mainly fun as a thought exercise for me specifically but also I do think it's kinda, digging into some of the bits that make this narratively work as a rivalry, how valentino in this rivalry is actually just kinda... removed. like he's not really emotional about it!! at most he's a bit bitchy, but even that just feels about The Game. it's the most extreme in this regard followed by jorge - but with valentino's other feuds you kinda... see a bit more an unguarded moment, see something a little more real there. the casey rivalry feels so uncomfortable precisely because valentino is a little... inhuman in this one. I mean, if you want to have valentino as some kind of cross between a deity and a monster in any of his feuds, this is the one. casey's just an obstacle to him. idk don't you think casey kinda wants to chain valentino down and stab him and make him see casey a little more... well, I think he should want it and I think it'd be fun to see and get them to talk to each other. ugh and also all the implications of making the faith vs non-believer elements more literal... casey the heretic!!!

there's some obvious stuff here you'd have to figure out, like 'how do you make this work as a narrative even to people who aren't familiar with casey stoner at all' and 'who the fuck do you think the target audience is here' and 'you do know this is not the kind of thing that would ever be made, right, go back to the casey stoner sports biopic like a sane person' but!! I do think it's material you can make work if you're just,,, efficient and smart in how you're actually telling the 'real life' version of the rivalry. also in my head this is. idk. an animated limited series not a film, which then brings in other stuff like 'episodic structure' because I'm fundamentally opposed to tv shows that think they're films. and look, I'm not going to write an entire film script treatment here, I just think a good writer can figure this stuff out. blood on the ducati is the framing device for everything else, simple. lots of animated floating eyes I reckon, first casey is watching valentino and then valentino is watching casey and the whole world is watching them... and it does bleed into real life just a little, where you're wondering whether casey is actually imagining/dreaming this stuff or valentino is or if they both know it somehow... you can get away with more ambiguity in animation. anyway, if you do want more thoughts on this one specifically for whatever reason, let me know because this one I do actually have more on

also laguna 2008 is a bit tortoise and the hare coded if you really think about it

[end of gore]

so. on to jorge. hm. the thing about jorge is that he was kinda writing a coming of age film in his own head, so like - yes, that's what you do go for? you can play it straight and follow how jorge has cast his rivals, or you can pin the whole narrative on the fact that jorge has cast them - the kinda artificiality of the narrative, the way jorge is this storyteller who isn't being recognised as much as he thinks he should be, isnt adequately appreciated. the way there's this three way discourse between what jorge thinks the story is and what the public thinks the story is and actual. you know. reality. I think this is a bit more light-hearted, like you know how the best stories about teenagers take their emotions seriously but also let them be kinda silly? because young people are silly! jorge was silly! he's got a lot of CHARM because he's so cocky and naive and full on and intense and awkward and kinda off-putting and tactless and a bit all over the place and so painfully, painfully young, like he's a good protagonist because that's a KID. but also, obviously there's also a lot of extremely not light-hearted bits of his story - everything about his father, his manager... idk this one's another one where, I don't just want to make it a generic sports biopic, and I'm trying to figure out the clear narrative arc here? I mean, you can point to the end of 2010 and really lean into him choosing victory on-track over popularity off it. the problem with 2010 is that it does not work as a dramatic season, yeah sure with the magic of biopics you can hack at it to shit but also. idk. what are we getting out of it. I think for narrative purposes you want to maybe narrow in, and end it at the end of 2008, with the switching of the numbers this kind of moment of emancipation? but also! this feels like we're straying a bit too far away from the fun sports elements and I don't want to REALLY suggest all the ways in which you could mine jorge's personal trauma in a jokey tumblr post, so I'm gonna move on from this one

the problem is 2015 just straight up doesn't work as a jorge-centric narrative, except in a very kinda comic way that leans into how absurd his role in that season was. 2012 as a season is a bit... y'know, it's fine. okay it's mostly terrible, but that's fine too. but it doesn't have a great narrative hook. which kinda leads you to the problem that I do think the valentino rivalry is more... juicy from jorge's pov, because for valentino, jorge is just kinda? an obstacle? idk he's more normal about it, it's just his job to destroy the guy, you know how it is. but also 2009 does work better narratively from valentino's pov, like it's the build up to catalunya specifically you can dramaticise... idk though, I do love catalunya but my heart isn't really in this exercise because I think valentino isn't really being... challenged here? it's a title fight where he's fundamentally using a set of tools he's already perfected, to beat a guy he doesn't really give a shit about. when the italian press is down on him pre catalunya, it doesn't spark any genuine self-doubt - it's just a handy source of extra motivation. there's no epic highs or lows that season, not real ones. and yes I know I was talking about making valentino who gets stabbed repeatedly to cover up an infection a moment ago, but that reflected real EMOTIONAL truths!! I'm committed to thematic fidelity more than I am to literal fidelity

genuinely I think the best way to tackle jorge is with the jorge/dani parallel journeys... what, film? tv show? maybe show actually - you don't have one coherent narrative Statement per se but you're constantly charting those journeys in reference to each other, really rooting it in their respective points of views, no neutral detached cinematic language like I want everything to be very much written to be from their eyes!! going from one to the other and back again. and you're charting these different journeys, right, and how they both captured different flavours of like... emotional successes and failures. I think it's actually about failure, yeah, about having to accept there's something you can't have and might never be able to get - whether that's universal love or a premier class title or whatever - but Actually, that might not be the end of the world. and during this process, they go from being enemies to tentative friends!! guys who realise they can maybe actually understand each other better than they thought!! this real moment of interpersonal connection. you have all these media narratives and the managers and so on and the fact they're competitors as these built in reasons why they've just been pitted against each other from the start... but y'know, again, it is also just a bit about maturing, about being able to set that aside, about making your peace with defeat and failure as an element of growing up. you can't win everything, maybe there's something you really really really want and you're just not going to get it, but at the end of the day it's kinda... yeah. self-acceptance. idk this is the nice one

so with marc you can go several different ways here I guess, and again he's also perfectly decent sports biopic material, probably second to casey in that category like yeah sure do the comeback story. but also, we do already have a very good self-produced documentary about what he thinks the narratives of his career are? idk this is also just a personal taste thing, I'll leave him to doing all the injury stuff himself, I don't have much to add there. we'll get to the obvious one in a second, but I was trying to figure out if there were other places I massively felt like you need the cinematic touch. and, again, the 2013 season is obviously very exciting!! but also, you have it covered in.,,,, multiple documentaries, I don't feel I have a take their either? his rivalries with dani and jorge aren't really substantive enough to sustain a bit of cinema. dovi... I mean, what are you saying there? what's the arc? I feel like if I tackled dovi, I'd go somewhere else and really go all in with the ducati stuff, and make it a bit more... you know, stark, stripped back, basically just the emotional component of how much he gave to that project and how he managed to beat away one rival after the next and how it all ended up falling apart in a kind of anti-climactic way? he's also good sports biopic material, but in a way I think the marc rivalry is the bit of his story I have the least to say on. so eg, 2017 is a dramatic season, but he's also kinda fine after it? he always knew it was a long shot, he tried his best and he got really close and then he lost. you can't amadeus it because dovi isn't (fictional) salieri. basically, I think what I'm saying here is that dovi is too well-adjusted to feature in this post. though I'd totally watch a film about his 250cc seasons, like it's a bit annoying because HE is the underdog who loses both title fights to jorge, but it'd still be kinda fun idk. I wouldn't really know what to do with the material but if someone made the film I'd absolutely watch it

right then. the thing about sepang 2015 is... yeah, sure, of course you can do it, it already exists as a narrative but... yeah, what are you adding!! idk I always think when you're adapting something, you kinda need to have a reason for it? I mean, what are you doing that's not already there in the footage? idk maybe this is just a sign of having been a fan of this sport for one too many years but to me the idea of sepang 2015 can get a bit boring (or maybe just repetitive) where I need a new TAKE on it to really get into the idea of fictionalising it. like where's the auteur's touch y'know, what can I still add to this!! but it also needs to WORK for someone who is new to the story, which kinda just makes you want to tell the story straight.... y'know the story is strong enough and COMPLICATED enough to stand on its own and it IS good but I don't really have anything interesting to say beyond 'yeah sure that'e be neat'. I can't tell you why, but I also don't think the casey approach quite works here? the idea of providing a framing device with which valentino and marc can actually talk to each other... eh. don't like that. hm. okay wait actually I just turned it around in my head for... a while and I think I've got an idea to make the worst motorcycle racing film of all time. so, my central stupid film-making gimmick here is just. centring the fact we're completely reliant on a few guys and what they're telling us in making up our minds, and our removal from that story and the imperfection of their perceptions and so on. so I think you kinda make a point of... not actually showing the motorcycle racing? like, you always show it by showing other people watching it, you're showing the tv screen rather than the actual racing. even in the cinematic medium, you're centring the theatrical aspects, where you drill it down to just a few characters. valentino. marc. uccio. marc's fuck ass manager. maybe a crew chief or two. keep it limited though, all the others are kept at a distance - you're constantly focusing in on the same few characters. and very early on you basically just like... get them to fourth wall break by telling you, the viewer, with their actual words how racing works for them, what meaning they take out of it - and again it's this remove because we're never allowed to actually feel the racing for ourselves (no helmet cams), and it sets up that as the tragedy unfolds, again and again we're just hearing from them what happened. it's all zoomed in on how claustrophobic the entire situation is, like doing the race direction room after the sepang 2015 is perfect for that kind of thing, and crucially they're only ever addressing the audience because they can't address each other. but fourth wall breaks also obviously draw attention to artificiality! I realise they are very much like, lame gimmick central, but also are these men not inherently about lame gimmicks... idk it's basically the same story but at least it feels like a kinda interesting way of telling it. kinda trite, but cinema allows you to get to the point and let valentino actually play with the camera... so literally take it into his own hands and lead it around and tell the story from his point of view. and you can play with how they do both change in what stories they think they're telling, how they're constantly revising their own stories, how their stories completely clash with each other... like. make them literal narrators. that's my pitch

so. one interesting pattern that has come up with my approaches to these rivalries is that with the exception maybe of the 2015 stuff, I feel like I'm more naturally inclined to treat valentino as a narrative device and centre his rivals. a big part of this is that valentino is a fantastic narrative device. he's kinda. this looming presence in every narrative in this sport where you can just sort of use him as a sort of way to poke away at all these other riders. the monster everyone loves who you are trapped with. BOO!! he's gonna eat you! which is fun! but ALSO, crucially, several of these rivalries aren't that emotionally challenging for him!! again, with casey right, he wants to beat him, but he's not having a crisis of faith over losing to casey. he thinks casey is annoying, he wants to beat him because he wants to win. valentino is casey's foil, but casey is not valentino's. valentino makes for an excellent personal antagonist to casey, but the reverse just isn't true. casey isn't forcing valentino to reexamine his approach except 'ramping up the levels of being a dick on-track' - like, yes, that's a serious competitive challenge, but also valentino is very comfortable in his own skin in that rivalry. sure, you could have valentino have some kind of massive revelation about the casey rivalry, but like. he doesn't in canon. he changes his behaviour towards casey in pretty predictable ways depending on what the relationship demands from his perspective at any given time. there's nothing more there

now, obviously you know where I'm going here. there IS a rivalry where you can make the argument he changes as a result of it, there IS a rivalry that tips him over the line and makes him to do stuff he hadn't done before that, there IS a rivalry that happens to coincide with a period of his competitive life that challenges him both personally and professionally. now, look, I have already talked about the sete rivalry. you know what I think about this rivalry - and if you don't, I really already have told the story here and here and here and here and also here. I think this works perfectly well as a narrative in its own right, and it's one you can tell from either perspective... but you kinda need both. I think again you probably naturally lean towards starting it from sete's perspective and that first proper meeting (I mean, idk if it is their first actual meeting, but it's the logical obvious place you start this story) with sete giving valentino advice during his first 500cc test and valentino just, y'know, ignoring him and being a cocky shit and then crashing. so you get to see sete being kinda exasperated by the whole thing. also, obviously ibiza is like, a key framing device here, like it's the most obvious in-your-face way of tracking their relationship with each other. I don't actually know how often they partied there together, but it must have been at least twice and if the commentators are to be believed it must have included 2003. artistic license and you can add one or two more times, but mainly you want to focus in on 2003 onwards right. so you've got this 2002 one where it's, y'know, high point of their friendship and in the name of narrative efficiency, you establish here that sete is looking to make the honda switch. the emphasis is on how valentino has been winning everything but on the flip side you're getting the first insight into his discontent. and there's a bit of a vibe of, what could you possibly have to complain about? like you are winning so much? so it's late one night where they've had this slightly unguarded alcohol-fuelled moment of genuine vulnerability but in the end it's actually characterised by how... unsubstantial the link between them is, because they wouldn't talk about this kind of thing with each other and they might both be similar in some ways but also don't gettttttt each other. it means you can return there as a location in 2003, where you've just had sachsenring and valentino's dramatic loss but they're still partying together and it's like. obviously In The Air that not everything is quite right... their relationship is already gradually altered and twisted because you're introducing this element of actual stakes and competition (obviously in 2004 they do NOT spend that time together, as far as we know anyway, and you can show them being very much not together at ibiza as a very obvious Oooh Things Will Fall Apart and maybe already haveeee)

and I do think basically I've already said what I think the themes here are,,,, several times by this point, so I'm not going to belabour the point. I think all of this fundamentally works as a narrative with like, minimal massaging and rearranging of the elements for dramatic effect. it's all there already, everything from sete's arc with the [insert non-tasteless way of covering a real life tragedy that fundamentally alters the course of sete's career] and how that leads to sete becoming the challenger and how he does want to win and his eventual downfall. with valentino, you have the element of liberation and self-discovery and... well, growing into your own but also kinda having the narrative drawing attention to how 'growing into your own' can involve becoming a fully realised character who is essentially quite cruel? you have this kind of... build up, right, towards this moment of revelation, where you lay bare who these two people actually ARE at sepang 2004, and then again at jerez 2005. valentino has gone his own way, he has freed himself from the chains of honda, he has embraced individualism and the chance to define himself and his own legacy and stand on his own two feet and not rely on the strongest bike or all this stuff within honda where they chose him as their flag bearer, for better or for worse... like he comes to his own here! he takes the step from 'great rider' to 'legend' because he gets to this dramatic moment of stepping into the unknown, he takes this massive risk that could have cost him so much, and it ends up elevating him. but it also puts him under duress, and in that moment he reveals himself - whatever sete did or did not do at qatar 2004, EVEN IF sete did all that shit, what you are left with is valentino vowing to ruin this man. valentino uses sete to make himself 'better', to fuel himself as a competitor. valentino turns sete into a tool in his own story. and again, thematically you've got all this stuff about how sete was managing the image of the rivalry and how valentino took advantage of that - how sete needed it to remain respectful and valentino was completely willing to abandon that. like, you have two protagonists who really are similar in quite a few ways, who think they have this shared understanding with each other, but when it comes down to it? they end up being super painfully different

now I can go on about this and how to play it straight, basically, you can just do that rivalry and I think it'd be cool and fun and very easy to arrange in a good narrative way. BUT I've kind of already. done that. like I don't want to suggest a film that is basically a nicer version of my tumblr posts. so I want to take this in a slightly different direction, and I think what we need to consider with this rivalry is this: what if you made the curse literal? basically, what's always kinda charmed me about this rivalry is that the curse should not work and all the misfortune that befalls sete after that is so comical that it's kinda... what do you do with that? and the answer is you just lean all the way in. my pitch is this: what if valentino sells his soul to the devil?

so, you know faust, right, and you know the bit at the start of goethe's faust where god and mephistopheles are basically making a wager over how corruptible this one human is. and faust is like... he's kinda disillusioned, he feels that everything he's dedicated his life to in academia is fundamentally hollow, gets very close to committing suicide. and faust has gone a bit new age-y, gotten into all this mystical shit and he's got this pentagram that ends up preventing mephistopheles from leaving his presence in their first meeting... and basically what the devil can give him is like, the chance to attain some true pleasure, and for that faust is willing to bet everything - so if faust can just have that, then maybe eternal damnation is worth it. and look, I'm not going to summarise the entire plot of faust here and it does go off the wall a bit with all the gretchen stuff, but the point is you have this version of the devil who is fundamentally a cynic and is attempting to win an argument with god by making this human succumb to his own nihilism. and what faust basically does is like, abandon his normal life where he's trying to live by normal virtues and goes off on this journey with the devil. and there's this little moment where mephistopheles,,, pretends to be faust and takes on the role of an academic adviser (you know how it is) and seduces this random student away from the word of god and sends him down a wretched path, which ends with this bit:

like, a big part of faust's tragedy is supposed to be about... well, hubris, of the relationship of god to man, of no longer being afraid of the devil... and obviously, this is all framed very much in terms of religion, but at the end of the day it's also about, you know, having purpose - faust is living a life that no longer has any meaning to him, all of his knowledge and studies now no longer fill the void inside himself. his nihilism opens the door for mephistopheles, and is what makes him willing to accept the devil's terms. now, and I am so very sorry to goethe here, I think we have some material we can use here to explore the valentino/sete rivalry. obviously, you can't do a one-to-one, you need to get rid of some of like, the depression and all that - there were times when valentino was feeling 'a bit low' in 2003, but not 'faust thinking everything he'd done in his entire life was pointless' low, yeah? also, unless you want to do a real long view here and even then it can't really be justified, there obviously isn't really a 'tragedy' here from valentino's perspective. like, he wins! this isn't valentino's tragedy, it's sete's! I was being a bit facetious when I said he was 'selling his soul to the devil', and you can kinda parse mephistopheles' motivations in different ways depending on what flavour and what interpretation of him you're dealing with here. you don't 'damn' valentino, you essentially just turn him into a tool of the devil!

so, this is how this works out in my head: the devil works more broadly as the manifestation of competitive impulses, the kind of 'how far would you go to win' question as a bloke who shows up and literally talks to the characters about it (magic of cinema). he's also engaging with valentino feeling like his victories no longer having meaning, with being disconnected from honda and from the entire culture there and just feeling like he's going through the motions. there's this element of like... opening the door to what is essentially a journey of self-actualisation, bringing him closer to being a 'god' but also allowing him to fully come into his own and become himself. to win on his own terms. I reckon ibiza is my preferred narrative device where the devil talks both to sete and valentino there (separately), first literally as a mysterious stranger and then... maybe not? he's talking to them at times of their lives when they're not at ibiza and it's not happening there in the physical world and they both end up kinda having to confront they're dealing with some potentially malevolent supernatural entity. but the important elements of the devil is that a) he's not going to do anything the humans don't actually ask for themselves, and b) everyone knows he's following his own agenda and you should be careful of the requests you make of him. so it's kinda like... essentially, the backdrop of this rivalry unfolding is they're constantly being challenged to decide what lines they're willing to cross. which culminates at qatar... and maybe you do have sete making like. a teensy mistake. a teensy error in judgement, one that is both real and deliberate but he could not have known would get that reaction and instantly regrets. and valentino, who is I think inherently sceptical of the devil coming to offer to help him and maybe does crank out the pentagrams (remember, the whole point of faust is that he was too arrogant to be scared of the devil, or one of the points anyway), in a moment of fury does decide - no, actually. I will take that step. I will curse sete. now the thing is, dramatically this is a teensy bit tricky because when you're talking about being damned by the devil, usually the consequences are a bit more severe than 'not winning a motorcycle race again' (yes, you can get into how sete did also seem genuinely cursed after that, cf his ambulance/bus crash situation, but again we are flirting with being in poor taste in this tumblr post). but the thing is, right, you have to lean into the silliness here! qatar 2004 is inherently silly, a CURSE is inherently silly, like real life is already silly here! you have to engage with the people where they are, and for these athletes all this shit is so heightened that the emotions are full on. like, valentino would've sold that guy to the devil! and to him not winning another race is basically the worst thing that can happen

so, obviously, you get to do the actual curse stuff. curses are inherently campy fun, the devil doing curses is campy fun, getting valentino rossi to crank out the pentagrams is inherently campy fun. you get to play around with this, right, like you know that bit in the brno 2005 race commentary where the commentators are talking about how valentino might as well have a little radio to talk into sete's helmet to remind him of how sete had fucked up at the sachsenring. OBVIOUSLY obviously obviously it is just so... idk scrunchy and fun to have this idea of valentino becoming a malevolent enough force to literally do that.... like damn the commentators did kinda eat with that?? ughhhhhh do you ever think about sete leading the qatar 2005 race for most of the way???? like that's SO fucked up because you literally have articles from about the race going 'hey maybe sete can break his curse' and then the commentators are talking about curses having one year expiration dates but obviously they!! do not!!!!! there's one race where sete goes off track and the commentators are talking about how valentino will surely have smiled into his helmet like that's so fucked!! it's so fucked!! but idk I think basically you have all this creeping curse-y stuff and devil stuff and then you get this twist and then it just becomes misery zone for sete until you sort of. compress the timeline and have him retire without getting into what happened at the end of 2006. and valentino just relishing in all his very worst emotions. and you've got sete who was the better man after jerez 2005, who took the high ground again and again and again and it did NOTHING for him.... and then he's cursed and his career is finished and the devil has had his fun getting mixed in with mid noughties motogp. and now obviously this is inherently kinda dumb and corny and silly but it's the devil!! mephistopheles to me is allowed to get up to dumb shit sometimes, let him have some fun!! idk I like curses being literal idc

I think the obvious critique here is 'this doesn't really feel like it gets the message of faust'. which, yes, is true - and obviously the way narratives are structured, a satisfying resolution isn't 'well selling your soul kinda slaps, actually'. and my statement to respond to this argument is as follows:

this is essentially canonically what happened. valentino DID do something kinda evil and it DID work out 100% for him and it DID kinda slap. at least when you add in the devil, you're making explicit the bit where it is a little bit bad. also, is sports not inherently about selling your soul for success... the story of valentino and sete is essentially about how we are twisted by competition, how pretending that we don't wish ill to our opponents is inherently dishonest. it is about lifting a facade for something that is already inherently there in the souls of men. this is obviously inherently a deeply cynical stance, but this is also a deeply cynical story beyond all the fun battles and camp dramatics. the devil is a cynic and he is basically the point of view character of goethe's faust - he's the one who is positioned closest to the audience. sports is all about living out some of humanity's worst instincts in a relatively low stakes setting, which means we get a free pass to have fun with a deeply cynical story that goes 'maybe selling your soul to the devil is fine, actually'

do I stand by this stance? not really, but the whole fun of storytelling is that sometimes you can just be kinda mean. I think goethe would get it... you can tell which character he enjoyed writing the most

the OTHER way you can do this is centre everything around qatar 2004 as like,,, the mystery box element...... okay look I have now made two posts that go WAY too deep on the 'what really happened' element but I do loveeeeee the whole thing like I would just make a film about that very end of the season and we show it from all these different angles as different characters narrate what happened... like fuck all the riders I want to hear from whichever mechanic used the scooter... the gresini mechanic who gave evidence to race direction.... various honda higher ups the crew chiefs like this is jb vs juan martinez it's war!!! obviously you still have the same emotional/thematic hooks as the general rivalry does but idk I would have a LOT of fun figuring out how to structure that, I loveeee mysteries... maybe I'd write it as a mockumentary yeah..... this one's just fun

anyway. a lot of stuff going on in this post, huh! you can probably tell I didn't edit this much. my classic tell when I edit my tumblr posts is I remember how 'paragraphs' work. unfortunately all I have energy for are like. a bunch of rants about things in my brain. I think when tumblr tells you that you've reached the maximum number of characters per paragraph and you need to figure out where to put a break, it's probably a bad thing? on the whole, my stance is I don't have anything AGAINST mildly fictionalised versions, but for me I'm always more of a.... well I want to take advantage of the full specificity of the events as they happened or just come up with a completely original story. kind of person. I know this ask probably wasn't looking for my 'what if you bled out valentino as he's strung up above a red motorcycle' vision but yeah. with a lot of biopics I'm always a bit 'well you could just read about this couldn't you' like I need stuff to take some kind of a stance on the material it's using... all my stuff takes a stance. that's all I've got. obviously all these stances mean that basically none of these things could ever be made. and I know what I said above but if they called me up to write the casey stoner biopic script treatment, I would also do that. if you've actually read to this point, give me a shout - you're a real one and I love you

[dawneternal]

now my head's splitting at the seams

✴︎ in the labyrinth of my pain, would you find me?

✴︎ Azriel x Valkyrie reader, platonic Cassian x reader

✴︎ Summary: you miss a few days of training, down with a bad migraine. It turns out Cassian has a few misconceptions about your condition and, possibly, about pain itself.

✴︎ Warnings: mentions of nausea and vomiting (no descriptions), pain, toxic positivity and ableism, internalized ableism, Cassian's a jerk in the first half. Also I'm so sorry for the tense changing back and forth 💀 I would definitely not call this one a masterpiece

✴︎ Word Count: 3.4k

AO3 Link / Writing Masterlist

✴︎ Notes: somehow writing out my feelings about having a migraine turned into something pretentious about pain and ableism. I think a lot about John Green's "pain is the opposite of language" and how much that's changed my perception of pain

Also listen I love Cassian and I have no problems with him but I had to pick someone to take my feelings out on I'm sorry 💛 also just want to acknowledge that everyone experiences migraines differently and it's not a topic I'm an expert on so I'm sorry if you don't feel well represented by this.

Tbh I could write several essays about the way pain and disability are handled in the acotar books but that's for another time.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and twist your knuckle into the pressure point at the base of your palm, chasing the momentary relief it'll give you from your nausea. It works for a minute, and you're considering making your way to the bathroom before another wave hits you when your bedroom door flies open.

"You're late," Cassian's voice bellows through the room and he doesn't see you wince. He strides into the room, footsteps booming across the floorboards, and he's left the door open behind him, letting a traitorous amount of light into your dark room. What good were black out curtains if your darkness was going to be invaded like this anyways?

"Oh my gods you've got to talk quieter," You curl tighter around yourself, head clutched in your hands.

"So you're hungover?" He stops near your bed, arms crossed as he towers over you.

"No, I have a migraine."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

You squint up at him, scowling, swallowing every bad word threatening to spill off your tongue. Though maybe he deserves it for coming into your room without asking.

"Please leave," You say quietly, all the venom you could usually imbue into your voice completely swallowed by your current condition.

"You've missed three days of training." He says by way of answering, definitely not following your request to lower his volume. "You can't coddle yourself like this."

His words punch the air from your lungs. Coddle? Something terrible is rising in your gut, along with the desperate thought that you can't deal with this right now.

"I'm not - this isn't - I don't think you understand how much it hurts." You scramble for words, cheeks heated from pain and anger.

"You've gotta push through it," He says, no hint of sympathy.

"Cassian please."

"I'm not leaving until you agree to come with me."

You don't have time to respond before you're running to the bathroom and throwing up whatever you'd managed to keep down last night, head throbbing with every movement.

Breathing hard, you lean back from the toilet and clutch your head in your hands. The silence rings in your ears and you aren't sure if Cassian is still there or if he finally took mercy on you and left, until his voice makes it's way to you, with just a hint of remorse in it -

"I'd better see you up there."

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Cassian did not see you at training that morning, and you're assuming you've bruised his ego because the next day he doubles down.

The thing is, Rhysand knew of your condition. The other priestesses knew. It's only Cassian being out of the loop and if he understood what a migraine felt like, you're certain he wouldn't be dragging you up there. You were used to dealing with people who didn't understand, had worked hard to learn how to give yourself kindness no matter what other people said. But it's like he knew exactly what things to say, what buttons to press to undo all of that progress.

It was like he'd pulled off your armor, piece by piece, leaving you cold and exposed. Going back to that world where weakness was your given name and it hurt worse than stepping into the ring and fighting the pain. If you could prove him wrong, just make it through a couple of hours, you could return to your sanctuary of darkness. And at least then, you wouldn't hate yourself on top of everything else.

So you followed him up to the training ring, struggling to open your eyes all the way in the morning light, hunched over to make the pain down your shoulders and neck just a bit more bearable. You sway on your feet, but Cassian either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

When he moves aside, revealing your small, huddled frame trailing beside him, Gwyn gasps.

"Cassian!" She cries, her tone scathing, and the hint of smug triumph slips from his face. It disappears completely as Gwyn rushes to your side, folding you into her arms to block your eyes from the light. You groan into her shoulder and go limp in her arms, grateful for the support.

Azriel stands to the side, watching with narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest like Cassian's, but there is no determination or judgment in his posture or expression. There's angry, crackling flames as he watches the redheaded Valkyrie thread her fingers through your hair and murmur soft comfort.

"She missed training all this week," Cassian says, but he's not barking any more. He's feeling a little bit small underneath the glares that pin him where he stands.

"Yeah, we know," Gwyn says, and it's the closest she's gotten to snapping at him in the whole time they've known each other. She turns to you and her eyes soften. "Let's get you back to bed, love."

"No," You murmur, guilt and shame bringing your resolve to the surface once more. You gently push her away to stand on your own, raising your squinted eyes to meet Cassian's. "I can do it. I'll be fine."

She watches you take shaky steps to the nearest mat and begin stretching, body obviously stiff from a few days in bed. You're conscious of all the eyes on you, far too sympathetic for your liking. This is exactly what you hated.

"Are we starting or not?" You let out a stiff laugh, too aware that your words are lightly slurred. That is absolutely not helping the hangover accusations.

The other priestesses shuffle to get into place, bumping into each other as they move to find their positions. There was still a horrible silence, crackling with fierce anger, all rippling in Cassian's direction. He halfheartedly called a few orders, visibly uncomfortable with the energy in the ring.

And you tried. You tried hard. To move your body through the stretches like normal. But your muscles protested every move, threatening to lock back up, sending stabs of pain through your skull. It didn't take long for the nausea to take over, forcing you to the edge of the ring, doubled over and dry heaving.

"This is ridiculous," Gwyn scoffs before she's at your side again. "You're going to back to bed."

"I will not be weak," You growl at her, panting as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "I am not lazy."

Gwyn's head snaps around to find Cassian, mouth dropped open in fury as she silently dares him to confirm that he may have suggested weakness to you.

"You're not and you know it," She says softly, hauling you up and leading you away from the training ring. “Don't do that to yourself.”

Cassian is feeling like he's surrounded by wolves, all the glares that are being sent his way. He understands by now that he's messed up, and in front of a group that may not be easily inclined to forgive him. He's sure every single one of them has experienced the disbelief that he foolishly shoved your way. For their pain, or for anything else.

He thought you would snap back to your normal self after a bit of warming up, shake off your symptoms with a bit of movement and sunshine. You were strong enough to, if you wanted to. He'd seen it before. He thought you just didn't want to.

A small, firm hand lands on his arm and he finds himself looking down at Nesta. There's sympathy in her expression, but her eyes twinkle with the threat of a nasty bite if he dares to say anything stupid.

"She gets them after particularly bad flashbacks," Nesta says, "Or sometimes they're just random. Madja says there's no fix for the pain but darkness and sleep."

Cassian's stomach twists so terribly he thinks he might puke, too. In the midst of attempting to instill resilience, he's understanding that he knows nothing of this kind of pain. This is something different, something that cannot be conquered in the same way as emotional pain, as every day aches and injuries. You are a soldier in a battle he has no strategy for.

He may understand the concept of emotional resilience, of getting back up and into the training ring when you don't want to. But this is different.

The final blow, the thing that makes him want to cower and hide, is meeting his brother's eyes. Seeing the fire there transports him back in time, sending flashes of a smaller Azriel pushing himself too hard, determined to show the world that he'd never be less because of the damage to his hands. Fighting against words far too similar to the ones his own brother had spouted to you this morning, desperate to become strong enough that no one would ever doubt his pain and live.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

It was not a surprise that Cassian found himself in Rhysand's office later, confessing how thoroughly he'd fucked up, desperate for a little direction in how to fix this mess.

"It has to be their choice," Rhysand is saying, eyes meeting Cassian's over his glass.

Cassian's mouth opens and closes as he tries to conjure a response. He knows that. Of course he knows that. But apparently, his brain had not wrapped around how far that concept might go.

Cassian let out a grunt as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed. Rhysand knew he didn't have to push any further, he recognized the conflict in his brother's eyes. So he sat with him, quiet, while he processed.

"Do you want to know what it feels like?" He broke the since after a while, as the idea came to him.

"What?" Cassian blinked, startled from his thoughts.

"A migraine," Rhys explained, "Do you want to know what it feels like?"

Cassian frowned, studying his brother's expression for anything resembling amusement, but there was none. So he nods.

Not even a full second later, his skull is attacked with throbbing pain, deep in the base of his neck. He hadn't even noticed the fae lights before, but now they overwhelm him, causing a dull pain to surface behind his eyes. Nausea curled up his throat, threatening ruthlessly.

"Oh gods," He leaned forward and clutched his head in his hands, finding that his limbs trembled under his own weight.

"Do you push yourself when you feel like this?" Rhysand asked softly, not taunting. Prompting.

"I don't really ever feel like this," Cassian grumbled out.

"Hm," Rhysand mused, his brows drawing together. He'd experienced episodes like these often, under the mountain. He knew that Azriel struggled with them through his teenage years, like his brain still struggled to process his senses outside of a dark cell.

Deep in thought, he only remembered to ease up on Cassian's mind when his brother whimpered.

"Some say pain cannot truly be described with language," Rhys says, gaze somewhere else as Cassian gulps down air. "And that your pain is one of the few things that is truly yours, that you can never share. Even if you manage to describe it, it will never be felt by anyone else."

"I thought she was just hungover," Cassian says, but he's not defending himself. Rhysand knows.

"What if she was, though?" He tilts his head to the side, watching his brother carefully.

And that is the thing that had begun to unfurl within Cassian as he stood surrounded by the priestesses he'd wronged. He understood that having true control of your body meant that dictating how pain is handled had to be yours, too. He understood that pushing someone to deal with pain in his own way was a violation in and of itself. He had stepped into the world that you had carefully balanced and re-built around your condition and dared to tell you that you may have done it wrong.

"Will she get better?" He asks, thinking of the agony he'd just experienced for a few short minutes. The same one that you'd been experiencing for three days, now.

"It's hard to say," Rhysand shrugs, "Madja says she will likely experience these off and on for the rest of her life, but she may have some periods of remission."

He tilts his head at his brother again, "You know that a majority of the priestesses have an invisible disability of similar kinds, right? They won't get better. They will be in pain every day until they die."

Rhysand sighs, thinking of the hundreds - possibly thousands - of tins of salve that Azriel has gone through, numbing the pain of his nerve damage. Trembling hands hidden in black gloves, tucked into his body and away from the world. And that is the reason he's bothering telling Cassian of any of this. Otherwise, he might let him figure it out on his own.

"But the healers-" Cassian begins.

"Are there to help them cope with their emotional pain and trauma," Rhysand nods, "But some of them, a lot of them, were disabled as a result of what they went through and will never get better. Like Clotho.”

Oh.

It clicks in Cassian's mind, then. Who else Rhys meant. Who else Cassian had insulted. He had never barged into Azriel's room, insisting that he still train even when he could not flex his fingers without wincing, without trembling too hard to hold a glass of water. But he'd done it to you, in front of him. And that pinned his disbelief on Azriel all the same.

Azriel's pain, your pain, were enemies that neither of you could defeat. And here he was, shoving a sword into your hands, and insisting that you try.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

A soft knock sounds against your door, so quiet you almost don't hear it. You stare at it, wondering if you should pretend that you didn't. But then the knob turns slowly and it opens just a crack, and a soft voice is saying into the darkness,

"Hey, it's Azriel. Can I come in?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch his shadows dancing back and forth through the thin wedge of light he's letting in.

"Sure," You say, moving quickly to smooth your rumpled clothes and tangled hair before he steps in. You're not exactly sure what he thinks of you after this morning.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. His eyes seem to glow in the darkness, an amber-honey color, and somehow you can still see his shadows, like they're even darker than your room with no light.

"I just wanted to check on you," He says, crouching down beside your bed so you don't have to sit up.

"I'm okay," You say, still getting over the surprise of the Shadowsinger in your space. It's true, though, you suppose. You're used to all of your other symptoms by now, and your heart hurts worse than your head.

"He's an idiot sometimes," Azriel says, basically spits. A smile begins to spread on your face so he continues, “Like, sometimes he's just an asshole, straight up. But this time, believe it or not, I think he actually meant well and was just an idiot.”

“I know,” You give him a sad smile and all of the anger melts from his face.

“I think he went to buy flowers if that makes you feel any better,” He sighs. You know he's just as mad at Cassian as you are, maybe even more mad. But he still can't help vouching for him. It's definitely going to take more than flowers to forgive him, but it's a good start. You also appreciate that Azriel has bothered to warn you ahead of time, in case you wanted to avoid Cassian's apology.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, so quietly. And you wonder who else has earned this tenderness from him.

“It's not too bad right now,” you say truthfully, though you know that sitting up or going outside might be pushing your luck.

“Still hurts?”

“Yeah. Still hurts.”

He nods. “I can try something that helps me, sometimes.”

You search his eyes for a moment, then nod.

“Can I touch your face?” He asks, almost a whisper.

Your heart leaps into your throat and you fight to keep your face neutral as you nod again, no idea what he's planning to do with you.

Slowly, leaving enough time for you to stop him, he reaches out. He's not wearing gloves, like usual, and in the dark you can just barely make out the uneven silhouette of his dimpled, scarred hands.

His fingers land gently on your forehead, and he presses his thumb between your brows. Gently at first, and then harder, circling a tender point under your skin. It makes the pain in your head sharper, and you let out a hiss.

“I know,” He says, “Bear with me a minute.”

You close your eyes, biting back a whimper, but after a moment the pain begins to ease. He keeps going for a few minutes and you feel your whole body relax, pain free for the first time in days.

You don't realize how much you've leaned into his touch until he gently pulls away and you find your head falling forward with him.

“What is that?” You open your eyes and blink at him.

“A pressure point,” He grins, and it almost looks like he's blushing.

“That's magical,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, and then, “you can sit on the bed if you want.”

Azriel smiles and straightens, and you move your pillow to the side to make space for him. He slides off his boots and sits on the bed next to you, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. You place your pillow next to his lap and settle back into it.

“Thank you,” You say, your body feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Of course,” he says.

A silence settles, but it's not uncomfortable. There's something in it that you understand. He's just keeping you company. Here to sit with you in your pain.

It's easy to relax in his presence, between his calm aura and the pain relief he's offered you. And you find yourself spilling the question that's been circling though your mind since this morning.

“What if I can't fight, someday? What if I can't be a Valkyrie anymore?”

Azriel stills beside you. It's a long moment before he says anything. You're tense beside him, and it makes you flinch when he brings his hand so gently to rest on your head. Not moving, just resting.

“First,” He says, in the same soft voice, “You'll always be a Valkyrie. Because you cut the ribbon. Because you sisters will never let you go. And because I know for a fact that the Valkyries did not strip their warriors of their title if they became disabled by an illness or an injury.”

“Really?” You breathe.

“Mhm,” He hums in affirmation. You forget sometimes that he knows the Valkyries from more than history books.

“And second,” His voice drops lower, like he's sharing a secret with you. His hand moves, fingers slipping gingerly through your hair. And it makes you realize that he came here with his hands uncovered as an offer of solidarity. Combing his scarred fingers through your hair, he is offering you vulnerability, like recompense for what you bared this morning. A trade. A truce.

“If you cannot fight,” He continues, “Then you will show the world that a formidable woman can be made from more than fighting skills. You will still be - will always be - something incredible.”

Tears prickle at your eyes, form a lump in your throat. You reach up to grasp his hand, the only thank you that you can manage in the moment, and he lets you.

There's another silence, as he holds your hand in the dark.

“Who helps you?” You ask, turning to look up at him. He watches your eyebrows knit together, so serious, and he swallows a smile.

“What do you mean?” He says.

You bring one finger up to tap the space between his own eyebrows.

“With your pain? Who helps you like you helped me?”

“Um,” He shrugs, “Sometimes Rhys if he has time. Otherwise, no one.”

That's what you thought, but it still makes your heart twist in your chest. It takes a deep breath before you have the courage to say the next words out loud.

“You should tell me next time you're in pain. And I'll help.”

Azriel stares back at you, something bewildered in his eyes. Because he sees your suggestion for what it is. The same thing he offered you. A trade. A truce.

A beginning.

“Yes,” He whispers into the dark, and his hand closes around yours. “I will.”

[aperrywilliams]

That Green Monster (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Your relationship with Spencer is fresh new, and some of his insecurities arise when someone new joins the team, making him react in a wrong way to you.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Fluff and Angst. And then fluff at the end (I don't even understand myself). Spencer lashes out. Spencer is insecure. Reader is mad. Both are so madly in love, though.

A/N: This one has been sitting as a WIP for way too long, so I decided to finish it today!

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A shot in the neck.

That's what it took for you and Spencer to - finally - get together. To confess you loved each other.

Everything happened while working a case in Texas. You had cornered a suspect who was hiding in a restaurant. You wanted to open a communication line with him, but out of nowhere, shots got fired. And one of them ended in your neck.

What happened next was a blur to everyone, especially to Spencer. He barely remembers Morgan pulling him back so that the paramedics could check on you.

The ambulance ride to the hospital and the hours of waiting for news were excruciating.

In Spencer's brain, only the thought that he might lose you forever without coming clean about his feelings for you.

You have been in a similar situation before, but this time, he thought you wouldn't make it.

It would be the loss of a friend and the loss of the love of his life.

If Spencer has to be honest, he realized he loved you after your first month working at the BAU. And with every passing day, the feeling only got stronger. But he was scared of saying anything, afraid of changing - or losing - the strong bond you guys already had.

So, he kept it to himself for years. For six years, to be exact.

But what he didn't know was you had fallen for him, too.

And how could you not? You both went through so many things over the years: Spencer's kidnapping, his Dilaudid problem, your family issues, the injuries, bad cases, unsubs attacks, hospital visits, and so on. With every bump in the way, you both were each other rock. Always together, no matter what.

The team affectionately called you Mulder and Scully, but in reverse roles, of course.

But even if, at some point, both of you realized what you had was much more than a friendship, neither of you did something about it.

Until you got shot in the neck.

In that uncomfortable waiting room chair, Spencer prayed, to whatever or whoever could listen, for a chance to make things right.

So when you woke up in your hospital bed hours later, the first thing you saw was Spencer's face.

He was by your side as always. But this time, he had something to tell you. Spencer didn't have the chance, though, because before he could say anything, three words blurted out from your lips: 'I love you.'

Between happy tears, you both spent hours talking and coming to the conclusion you were both idiots in love.

You didn't say anything to the team, but you all knew they knew, so it became unspoken knowledge after you were released from the hospital.

-------

With you home due to your neck injury and JJ on maternity leave, Hotch decided that some help would be better than putting more pressure on the remaining team members.

That's why he borrowed an agent from Sex Crimes.

Spencer had already told you that there was a new agent, but he hadn't developed this information in detail.

You knew him on your first day back, a month after you got shot.

Once you exited the elevator on the sixth, you headed through the bullpen glass doors. When you pushed them open, you didn't realize that someone was going in the opposite direction, and you almost hit the guy in the face with one of the doors.

"Oh, my God. I'm sorry!" you exclaimed when you realized what almost happened.

The man shook his head in dismissal. "No, no. Don't be. Nothing happened."

"But I almost hit you with a glass door," you pointed. The guy didn't seem phased by it, though.

"I'm okay, really," he insisted, flashing you a smile. You hadn't picked much of his appearance, to be honest, but the guy was easy on the eyes. Another thing that caught your attention was you had never seen him before.

"Do I know you?" You asked with curiosity.

"I don't think so. I'm Agent Dodds. Jake Dodds," he introduced himself, extending his hand. You've heard that last name before. You told him yours, shaking his hand.

"Really? You are a BAU member, right? I'm the backup agent Hotchner brought to the team," he explained, and then it clicked. He was the new guy.

Jake Dodds was young, fresh and motivated. After his first year in Sex Crimes, he already has a lot of accomplishments to show off. And, of course, he was doing his best to impress Hotch and the team.

Coming to the office bright and early and being the last to leave gave Dodds a chance to engage with the cases and the team members - you included. Due to your neck injury, you were mostly on desk duty, so you had enough time to help Jake with paperwork and all the questions he might have about past cases. And Dodds had many.

In the weeks that followed, he has spent a lot of time by your side, working with you when the team wasn't out of town.

It was part of your nature to be forthcoming and willing to teach others. And having worked at the BAU for almost six years, you felt like you could teach one thing or two.

Spencer loves that from you; it's one of the many things that made him fall in love with you. But for some reason, Jake's closeness to you started to bother him.

Spencer knew it was irrational and without foundation. Still, in the past weeks since Dodds joined, with each laugh from you when Jake cracked a joke, every time you sat together at the office a little too close, or every day you decided to have lunch with Jake rather than him, Spencer's jealousy only got stronger. It didn't help the team's comments about you and Jake.

'Dodds looks hooked by her'; 'The newbie definitely is flirting with her'; 'Really handsome view she has over there.'

Spencer could only bite his tongue. He could easily assume that the team was only messing with the situation, but the green monster growing inside didn't let him think clearly.

Spencer knew you, and you would never do something to hurt him, so why did he feel that uneasiness inside of him?

Maybe the fact you were in the early stages of your relationship made Spencer insecure. It was all new and fresh; he was happy with you, but although you both have known each other for years, he was inexperienced in the love department. Being friends was one thing, but being a couple was different.

So instead of talking to you—which he knew was the right thing to do—Spencer did what he usually does when he feels overwhelmed: he shuts people out.

And you did notice, of course.

Something was troubling him, you knew that, but every time you brought up the topic, he dodged it. You didn't look much into it at first because you knew Spencer would talk to you eventually when he felt ready. Or you assumed he would.

But the days went by, and Spencer still hadn't told you why he had been so distant, so you decided to confront him.

You both were watching a movie at your place, but you noticed Spencer wasn't paying attention to the TV. After an internal debate about whether it was a good idea to bring this up, you tested the waters.

"Spencer, are you okay?" you asked him, genuine concern lacing your voice.

The question hung in the air enough to make you think he might not hear you.

"Spencer?" you tried again, swearing you heard him huff even if he tried to be subtle.

"I'm okay, just tired," he hastened to dismiss, not looking at you.

So he heard you, but you had to call his name again to get an answer. Something is definitely wrong.

Contemplating your options, you chose to end the 'patiently wait until he comes to you' strategy. You were his girlfriend now. Why he couldn't trust you enough to tell you what's going on?

"Okay. This bullshit needs to stop now. You have been weird for too many days to tell me now you are okay and just tired. I know something happened and need you to tell me what it is," you demanded.

Shifting uncomfortably in his spot, Spencer had an inner debate about coming clean to you. He didn't want to admit how much Jake's closeness to you was bothering him. Spencer didn't want you to think about him as the possessive and clingy boyfriend who can't see his girlfriend near other guys.

He wasn't like that, right?

"You are imagining things. I'm perfectly fine," Spencer deadpanned, eyes returning to the TV.

Your mouth went slack. Were you imagining things? Was he thinking you were stupid?

"So I'm imagining things, uh? It's not you being defensive right now, isn't it?"

"No." He gave you a curt answer that meant precisely the opposite of what he was implying.

You wanted to give him a chance to open with you, but Spencer wasn't engaging.

It seemed easier to talk about what was happening to each other when you were only friends. Why is it so hard now you are a couple? You couldn't understand, and your patience was running short.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" you called him out in frustration. "Who do you think I am? A random person who hasn't known you for fucking six years?"

Spencer internally flinched. He saw the confusion and anger mixed in your eyes, and he felt the urge to hug you tight, telling you he was being an irrational jealous asshole. But Spencer didn't bring himself to do it, and instead, he tried to play cool and detached.

"I already told you. Everything is wonderful, at least for me. Not for you?" Spencer asked casually.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He looked calm and collected, but you could feel he was anything but.

"Okay. I'll bite the bullet. So the distance between us in the past weeks doesn't bother you as it bothers me," you concluded.

Spencer let out a bitter chuckle.

"Funny you're bothered by that. You have seemed very busy in the past weeks," Spencer mumbled.

A slip that didn't go unnoticed by you.

"Very busy?" you echoed his words. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Spencer shrugged, unamused.

"Exactly what it is. You have been very busy at the BAU lately. I only have been giving you space."

You squinted your eyes, raking your brain to understand Spencer's meaning. For your mandatory desk duty, you have spent more time in the office than in the field, but besides that, what has been different?

And then it clicked on you. Jake Dodds.

Sure, you've been very willing to teach him things and help him with his work, but that only explains Spencer's annoyance if there is another reason.

"Is this about Dodds? Are you jealous of Jake?" you questioned in disbelief.

Spencer's face paled. You had caught him.

After your deduction, he should have told the truth, but Spencer is stubborn enough not to give in, especially if that meant recognizing something he felt embarrassed of.

"W- what?! No! Where did you get that? I'm not jealous or remotely close to that," Spencer rebutted defensively.

Oh, he was definitively jealous. At the realization, you let out a giggle, eyes softening at your boyfriend. For you, there is no guy he should be worried about- not for Jake or any other person. Your heart is his, and you know there is nobody in this world you want to be with more than Spencer.

But Spencer's face deflated. You were laughing at him, and he felt even worse.

"Spencer, there is no reason for you to be -"

You couldn't even finish your sentence when Spencer cut you off, standing from the couch.

"I already told you! Am I not speaking English to you?"

His face was red, but not by embarrassment anymore. Now, it was a kind of contained rage.

Stunned by his reaction, it took you a few seconds to say anything.

"I - I'm just trying to understand what's going on. Don't be rude," you chimed.

Spencer let out a humorless chuckle.

"Rude, did you say? Am I rude because I disagree with you? Is that? Or am I rude because this doesn't have to do with you?"

"Excuse me? When did this turn into a problem related to me?"

You stood to mirror his stature so as not to look vulnerable.

"I don't know, you tell me. Are you disappointed because not everything or anyone in this world is revolving around you?"

Spencer's voice was cold and sarcastic, something you had seen in him before but never directed toward you. He was outrightly saying you were self-centered.

"Spencer -" you tried to warn him to back off, but Spencer didn't stop.

"No. I get it. You like the attention. But, I'm sorry, I'm not in the mood to indulge your childish self. Maybe the young and funny Agent Dodds could help you with that. But not me."

A dead silence settled in the room. If a needle had fallen on the floor, it would have made a noticeable noise.

You couldn't believe that man was your boyfriend—the man who was telling you such hurtful words.

Spencer saw how your features morphed from confused to hurt and then to offense, and with a twist in his guts, he knew he had fucked up.

"Are you done?"

Your tone was flat and collected, even if, on the inside, there was a storm of feelings. Spencer was deflated and looking for the right words to apologize.

"Hey, look, I'm -"

"I asked if you were done." You questioned harshly this time, and Spencer only gave you a shy nod.

"Okay, now get out!"

Your command was only followed by your actions as you walked to your entrance to open the door.

With horror, Spencer tried to sputter words to change your mind.

"I'm sorry. I - I didn't - Please, don't do this."

"I said, get out! I don't want you here!"

You emphasized your words, gesturing to the open door.

"Baby, I wasn't - I didn't mean what-" Spencer tried again, but you had made up your mind and didn't want to hear him.

"I don't fucking care! You had your time to explain yourself, and I don't want to hear anything else from you."

Spencer knew that nothing he could say at that moment would help his cause, so like a dog with the tail between his legs, he slowly made the walk of shame towards your door, but not before looking at you and begging for forgiveness with his eyes. It was a useless thing because you didn't even look at him back. Once he was out of your sight, you slammed the door shut, and your facade crumbled.

Tears started to fall freely, in a combination of pain and frustration.

It's needless to say, you couldn't sleep that night.

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

Spencer looked distracted and visibly sad.

Morgan knew something had happened to him, even if the man had denied the fact for the past two days. And Morgan was sure it was something related to you. It looked like Spencer would combust from guilt whenever his eyes landed on you. Morgan's suspicion turned to be right the moment you caught Spencer's gaze, and you purposely averted it.

"Okay, pretty boy, what did you do?" Morgan questioned Spencer when he caught him pouring coffee in the kitchenette.

"What? Me? Nothing!" Spencer defended himself, but the crack in his voice did nothing to help his cause.

"So she's not talking to you just because?"

Spencer shrugged, leaving the pot over the counter.

Was he being so obvious? If Spencer wanted to maintain the facade that 'nothing is wrong here,' he was failing miserably.

Morgan scoffed, grabbing a mug to pour some coffee for himself.

"Come on, Reid. There must be something. Since yesterday morning, you look like a kicked puppy, and she seems visibly upset, and you're both always attached to the hip."

Dangerous territory, Spencer thought. But at this point, his regret was more powerful than keeping your relationship private.

"She is mad at me," the man recognized. It was a 'vague' recognition, but it was something.

Morgan seemed not surprised, though.

"No shit, Sherlock. The question is why, pretty boy," Derek prodded.

Spencer sighed deeply. How could he express what really happened without telling the whole truth?

Morgan saw the struggle in Spencer's eyes.

"I know you are both hurting by whatever happened. Maybe talking would help you clear your head and think about how to fix it."

Spencer took in Morgan's words. Some advice could help, he decided.

"We fought. I mean, we argued two nights ago, and she kicked me out. And now she is not talking to me, and I don't- I want to apologize, but I don't know how."

Spencer winced, just remembering your fight.

Derek looked at him incredulously.

"She kicked you out? What in the world did you do so she reacted like that?"

The actual question was 'what he said' because, strictly speaking, he didn't do anything besides let his mouth run on its own accord.

He regretted every word he said to you the second they left his mouth, but the damage was done, and you were fed up enough to listen to his apologies, so you yelled at him to let you alone. He didn't blame you. But he was feeling miserable, and it showed.

Spencer told Morgan exactly what happened—word by word.

"Jesus, Reid. I didn't peg you like the jealous type," Morgan acknowledged. Spencer shook his head.

"It's not like that. I mean, I know she loves me..."

"But?"

Spencer sighed. "What if - what if she realizes there are better men than me? That I am not enough for a romantic relationship?"

Morgan's eyebrows knit together. Spencer's face was pure panic, only thinking about the possibility.

"And Dodds would be better than you? You know he's like a kid, right?" Morgan pointed.

"Yeah. A young man with a lot of confidence that makes her smile and has her undivided attention. He's smart and qualified for this job like any of us. I'm not better than him. And I can perfectly be disposable in comparison."

That was the thing. Spencer felt insecure about you finding someone better than him.

Morgan looked at him empathetically.

"Man, I think you are looking too much into it. I don't think you should feel threatened in your relationship with her. And I guess she thinks the same and feels hurt for you thinking that."

Spencer nodded. "That's why I know I fucked up. I hurt her for my insecurities. It's all my fault," he lamented.

"You need to talk to her," Morgan advised, and Spencer whined.

"How? She hasn't spared me a glance in two days!"

"You're a genius, Spencer. And above all, how long have you known her? Five years? Think of something."

"Five years, eleven months, three weeks, and four days," Spencer corrected without hesitation.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. You'll figure it out."

Spencer sighed deeply as Morgan patted his shoulder before leaving the kitchenette. Derek was right; they should talk. Spencer just had to figure out how to make that happen.

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

That night you were sulking at your apartment, laying on the couch and watching some crap on the TV, when three knocks alerted you.

You weren't expecting anyone, and you didn't think Spencer could be outside your door. You were clear in telling him you didn't want to talk to him when he cornered you in the breaking room this afternoon.

But if you knew something about Spencer Reid, it was that he could be stubborn as fuck. So when you looked by the peephole and saw him standing there, you only closed your eyes and sighed.

Spencer knocked again. "I know you are there. And I know you don't want to talk to me. But please, let me do the talk. Please, at least listen to the things I need to say."

"You already said enough," you spat from your spot on the other side of the door. Spencer gulped hard. He said enough hurtful things to you to kick his ass, but he was determined to gain your forgiveness somehow.

"I can't stress enough how sorry I am for that. But I need you to know that I didn't mean any of it." Spencer paused, and when he didn't hear you say anything, he continued. "I'm an asshole, and I would understand if you want to break up and never see me again. I mean, well - it - it would be kind of difficult not to see each other because we work together, but you know what I mean. Or maybe not, I don't know. Jesus, what the fuck am I saying?" Spencer chastised himself, trying to control his nerves.

You could hear him struggling, so you decided to spare him a panic attack in the middle of the hallway. You opened your door and saw him still trying to sputter what he wanted to say.

"If this is your way to apologize, you are doing a terrible job." Your voice was not angry but tired. Because if he had had two tortuous days of you not talking to him, you haven't done it any better, overthinking about your fight over and over again.

Spencer's glassy, pleading eyes found yours.

"I know. It seems it's another thing I suck at," he admitted fidgeting with his hands. "Would you, uh. Would you let me try again? Apologize. That is."

It's true you were still mad with him, but you really wanted to understand why he reacted the way he did that night and said all the things he said. You know him too well to ignore that something else beyond mere jealousy clearly triggered his outburst.

Without saying a word, you gestured for him to get into the apartment. Spencer was quick to comply before you changed your mind.

You both took seats on opposite sides of the couch, eyes overly interested in your living room rug. After some minutes of silence and knowing he needed to say something, Spencer cleared his throat.

"I guess I'm going to start with the beginning," he prefaced, keeping his hands in his lap as you turned to contemplate him in silence. "Uh - you know it took me time to come clean with my feelings for you. A lot of time, almost six years," he chuckled nervously. You nodded, not wanting to interrupt him, fearing to get him more anxious.

"The thing is- I have been in love with you for so long and creating scenarios of us in my mind that - that now I know it is real, I don't - It's still difficult to grasp the idea we are together, you know?"

As Spencer raked his hair, collecting his thoughts, you couldn't help but remember all the things you both went through until you decided to tell the truth to each other. Six years is a long time. But you wanted to believe it has been worth it.

"I'm not used to a life where I get to be happy; when I think I am, things crush down, and I lose everything. It's a rule: good things don't last in my life."

You know how difficult it has been for Spencer to accept that he is not cursed or anything like that—a very difficult task, knowing the things he has been through.

"So my mind began to be haunted by the idea that it was a matter of time before you realized you could do better than me, and I'm only worth it as a friend."

His words made you recall the times you both discussed your love life in the past and all the doubts weighing on Spencer's shoulders. After those conversations, you always swore to make him feel loved and appreciated.

"And then you came back to work, and Dodds was there. I created this whole scenario, telling myself that you would be better with someone like him."

Spencer paused to gauge your reaction. You were openly listening to him, taking in every word.

"I know it's unfair to you. I - I betrayed your trust by mulling those ideas and saying all those hurtful things I truly don't believe. I'm so sorry; I don't have a defense other than my incompetence in dealing with my insecurities," Spencer concluded, letting a deep sigh escape from his lips and averting your gaze. He looked embarrassed and vulnerable, and it hurts you to acknowledge how small he feels about himself. You reached your hand tentatively, touching his forearm, and Spencer's eyes drifted back to you.

"Spencer, you have to know there is no one in this world who I love so deeply as I love you. No man could compare to you. No matter how young or confident or whatever difference you can name. You are the most thorough, caring, and selfless person I know, and I love you so fucking much it hurts," you gave his arm a gentle squeeze to emphasize your point. Spencer's cheeks flushed a bit. He still needs to get used to your compliments.

"What I still don't get is why you didn't tell me. Don't you trust me enough to talk to me about how you feel?"

Spencer hastened to reply, taking your hand in his. "No! It's not that! I do trust you with my life!"

"Then why didn't you tell me the truth at the beginning?"

"I - I don't know. I thought you would see me as the shitty boyfriend who can't see his partner near another man. It's as if I wanted to control you. And that's far from what I want," Spencer explained, scooting by your side as his grip on your hand tightened. "It was my problem, not yours. You did nothing to make this happen. I'm the one who must have to fix it." You shook your head.

"Baby, no. If it is something that upsets you, it is my problem, too. Spencer, we need to talk about those things and resolve them together."

Spencer's head hung low, taking in your words.

"But why? I am the insecure one, and you have done nothing more than show me how unfounded my fear is."

"Well, because you're still my best friend, and I care about you." Spencer's gaze met yours again. "It's the thing I first loved about us, you know? I love feeling safe with you and having the trust to talk about what is happening to us." With loving eyes, you brought his hand to your lips to kiss it.

"I want you to keep being my best friend, too," Spencer said with a hopeful smile. It was all you needed to hear.

"Then please don't forget that. You can always talk to me, and I promise to do the same, okay?" Spencer nodded at your words, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Okay. I promise," Spencer replied before wrapping you in a tight embrace. You melted in his arms, feeling his warmth and inhaling his scent, something you have been missing in the past two days.

"I love you," you mumbled into his chest. "So so much."

"I love you too. And I'm so sorry for my behavior two days ago," Spencer muttered in your hair.

You chuckled, slightly parting to look at him.

"Yeah, we have to work on taming that green monster, doctor. Otherwise, Hotch won't be able to bring anyone new to the team," you pointed, leaning to kiss his lips. Spencer smiled into the kiss.

"That means you forgive me?" he asked hopefully. You narrowed your eyes.

"Yes. But you still have to make it up to me," you teased, faking seriousness.

Spencer nodded eagerly nonetheless. "Whatever it takes."

"You could start making something to eat. I'm starving here after two days with a hole in my stomach," you rubbed your belly for emphasis.

"Yes, ma'am," Spencer smiled, standing and strolling quickly to the kitchen. He felt so relieved after coming clean with you that he swore not to make the same mistake again. That green monster fed by his insecurities dissipating as he thought how lucky he was to love and have you in his life.

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations - Part 3 (use whole signs)

🎀 For a lot of people with moon in 7th house, their mother had a huge impact on their personality (in a good or bad way). They'll either admire her a lot and try to be more like her or, do their best to not be like her. Their mother usually has a lot of say in who they marry. If the ascendant lord is not strong, then these people completely change after marriage and start to behave in a way in which their spouse would like them to.

🐈‍⬛Saturn in 9th house people can be really good when it comes to their career, they end up getting promoted earlier than others, but I've noticed that they prefer to work alone. It's like, they create something, but they would like someone else to market and sell it since communication is not their strong suit. Can be very introverted, not the best at taking initiatives, are very prone to undermining themselves.

🎀 moon in 11th house people have a really good relationship with their kids (unless it's debilitated). It doesn't matter if you're a guy or a girl, it's the same for both. They're the parents who have a very "chill" relationship with their kids, their kids trust them a lot, treat them as a friend. All my friends who have a great and healthy relationship with their parents, 85% of those parents had moon in 11th.

🐈‍⬛ Mars in 5th house people have such an "interesting" dating life; love triangles, friends with benefits, they've (or will) experienced it all. The people to say "it's complicated" when you ask them about their love life. But I've also seen that these people are very accepting of other people's dating preferences, this is one of the things that I really admire about them, this can result in them having a very diverse group of friends.

🎀 Jupiter aspecting ascendant/midheaven is one of the best placements that you could possibly have. I was going through celebrities' charts and I noticed that the ones who were exceptionally popular or rich had this like 90% of the time. With opposition and square it can indicate that people hate you at first, but then some info comes out and suddenly everyone loves you, but you gotta go through the hate first. Conjunction can go either way depending on the sign.

🐈‍⬛ Saturn in 4th house women have my full respect, like, these people go through so much shit in their life and yet they're so hardworking and never give up. Their mother was probably their worst enemy growing up. If you know someone who has this, give them a hug, they're carrying so much burden, and yet they never show it. You'll never hear these people complaining about life, have a very, "it's okay, problems come and go, you can't be sad all the time" mentality.

🎀 Sun in 1st house people make me so angry, I don't get along with them. They have such a shitty personality, and always wanna fight for absolutely no reason. Start a beef out of nowhere, but they are so fucking good at their job, that's actually what makes me hate them more. My class representative has this, and she's such a bitch, but she's so responsible, it breaks my fucking heart, can't even complain 😔

🐈‍⬛ Mercury in 11th house people have unmatched Rizz, will charm the pants off you (unless it's debilitated). I'm so jealous of people who have this. I know people with this, who are not conventionally attractive but their charm is what makes people like them. I never knew what it meant to be attracted to someone's personality until I met someone who had this. (I know this sounds like a backhanded compliment, but it's really not)

🎀 I have never in my life met a moon in 8th house person who was like....okay. these people will have a mental breakdown almost every week. Can't take criticism AT ALL. I have seen that people with this have a tendency to date whoever they see once they break up, just to show their ex how "wanted" they are, and it's not healthy because a lot of their hook ups have bad intentions. Have a habit of playing the victim "everyone bullies me 🥺" "I have the hardest life" and blah blah. On a positive note, they can handle fame really well because of their ability to manipulate people, once you get in their trap and start liking them, you'll never be able to hate them.

🐈‍⬛ I never see people talking about how smart Venus in 3rd house people are. I'm always so amazed by the way they carry conversations. A lot of women who have won beauty paegents have this because of how nice their answers were. A lot of young politicians have this as well. Their juniors often look up to them.

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[lady-griffin]

Jinx's Hallucinations + Ekko

Before Act III drops, I wanted to talk about an aspect of Timebomb that I'm quite fascinated by -

Ekko isn’t a trigger for Jinx’s hallucinations.

He has even stopped her hallucinations – not intentionally or anything, but more than once Ekko's presence seems to have a nullifying impact on Jinx.

Which is odd, right?

One would assume due to their history Ekko would be just as triggering to Jinx as anyone else, if not more so, and yet the opposite seems to be true.

In Jinx's first reunion with Vi, she quickly becomes overwhelmed and has an episode due to a whole combination of factors, but notably because her hallucinations of Mylo and Claggor start attacking her, largely because she's starting to breakdown and is getting overwhelmed (a self-perpetuating cycle).

Jinx can't even begin to calm herself down, in fact she yells at everyone to shut up, because she needs to think.

Then she hears Ekko’s hoverboard and suddenly the hallucinations are completely gone.

Jinx isn’t sure if what she heard was real or not.

Which is a great detail, since it indicates Jinx is aware that the voices she hears aren’t “real," meaning she knows other people can’t hear them too. So, it's rather telling (at least for me) that she asks Vi to confirm if she too heard the hoverboard sound.

It's also impressive Jinx was able to instantly recognize the sound of Ekko's hoverboard, despite her being in the midst of a mental breakdown and unable to think properly.

It’s almost like Jinx’s brain went into fight mode or something, because seemingly all the hallucinations stopped at once because there’s now a much bigger threat Jinx needs to be on guard for – Ekko is heading her way.

I really can't emphasize how much I love that.

While not traditionally romantic, in any sense, this shows the amount of respect Jinx has towards Ekko and the threat he poses to her. He’s someone she actually has to take seriously when fighting.

Which is a bit unique for Jinx.

Throughout S1 we saw Jinx being far more scared of her hallucinations then actual real, physical threats, but in this moment it’s like her brain recognized Ekko as being the far greater threat than her hallucinations.

Which he is - but that’s also true for many of the other things Jinx faces and isn’t scared of.

Jinx does “glitch out” while fighting Ekko and the Firelights in “When These Walls Come Tumbling Down,” - but it’s more of an asset than a problem, as she easily dodges the Gorilla Mask Firelight (at least I think it’s a gorilla).

Then when Ekko disappears, Jinx's psychoses come rushing back; obviously, this has less to do with Ekko himself and everything to do with him taking Vi, but nonetheless, it's still a slight repetition of the pattern that keeps happening between them.

In "The Boy Savior," during Jinx's bridge fight with Ekko, she once again specifically doesn't experience any hallucinations; even though she was just experiencing them not too long ago.

Mylo was this 'demon' on her back that while she could initially argue against, the more upset she became, the bigger his presence was.

She saw Caitlyn as this devil figure, laughing and mocking her and her psychoses even blocked Vi almost entirely from her sight; whether literally or symbolically, Jinx clearly wasn’t fully aware she was shooting at Vi, despite her obviously seeing Vi and then shooting in her direction.

Then Ekko bursts onto the scene and suddenly no more hallucinations. Which is just...

I honestly don’t know what this is. I really don’t.

To be clear, I absolutely love this whole thing despite not knowing what it is exactly, because honestly, I'm just fascinated by this dynamic, because for whatever reason, Jinx isn't triggered by Ekko nor does she hallucinate him.

In S2, Jinx’s hallucinations have significantly decreased, but in “Paint the Town Blue," she's suddenly bombarded with pretty much everyone’s voices because she’s beyond upset and panicking about Isha being taken by the enforcers.

She sees pretty much everyone - Silco, Vi, Mylo, Claggor, Sevika, and Isha.

Jinx seeing Vi, Sevika, and Isha shows us that she can/does hallucinate people who she knows are alive.

In addition, Isha being one of her hallucinations shows us that Jinx doesn’t need to have negative or even complicated feelings towards someone for them to become a part of her psychoses, as Jinx largely thinks/feels positively towards Isha.

Though it should be noted, the hallucination of Isha isn’t acting aggressive towards Jinx, not like the others are.

Finally, Ekko or Vander are the only two she doesn't hallucinate, but we know Jinx has hallucinated Vander in the past, making Ekko the odd one out when it comes to Jinx's hallucinations once again.

Which for the millionth is absolutely fascinating to me.

Because why?

Why doesn't Ekko trigger Jinx? Why isn't he one of her hallucinations? How come he's the only one we've seen having the ability to stop Jinx's hallucinations altogether (even if it's completely unintentional)?

For whatever reason, Jinx’s mind has seemingly categorized Ekko as being different than everyone else and while it’s obviously not this big thing the show brings your attention to, it’s also clearly there, albeit subtly.

And yeah...

I don’t really have much more to say, I just wanted to talk about this interesting aspect of Timebomb before we get to the last and final arc of Arcane.

[maybanksprincess]

im your baby

WARNINGS: a little angsty, fluff towards the end, cussing, mentions of sophia, insecurity, reassurance, alcohol consumption, suggestive-ish, mentions of marriage.

lias note — requested by my lovely mootie @rafenroostersgirl, this ask was so amazing and I loved writing about it! im not the best at angst so please excuse any mistakes :( thank you so much for the request. go read her ask here!

pairings: crybaby!reader x rafe cameron

Rafe came to the bar to get a little tipsy and forget about his problems for a while. Ward had been up his ass for what felt like the longest, he had plenty of contracts at home waiting for him to sign, lots of business deals to seal, and on top of everything, he had to deal with your clinginess.

It was very often that you'd get clingy and always want to be around him, but he was a busy man, he'd never dealt with anyone wanting to cling to him, so it was difficult to adjust to. He was used to always being alone, or too busy to think about anything else but what he was working on.

This whole relationship thing was new to him, so naturally he isn't a very touchy-feely guy, and wants his own space, but you were the exact opposite. You always wanted hugs or attention, constantly pulling on his arm or clinging to his side.

he was honestly used to hooking up with girls and leaving the second after, until he met you. Something about you struck his interest, something he couldn't ignore. But geez, no one told him how exhausting it was to have a girlfriend.

On top of everything, he would get strange glances, and cruel words spread over the island about him all because he's dating a Pogue. no kook dates a Pogue. Out of everyone on the island, you'd sort of figure Rafe would be the one to be telling someone else that. But no, he was actually the one in love with a Pogue. Someone who came from the cut. How embarrassing for him....

as he's lost in his thoughts, he's suddenly interrupted by a sweet voice coming from behind the counter. He puts his drink down on the table, his movements slightly sluggish from the bit of alcohol he'd already consumed. he tilts his head up to look at her, taking in her toothy smile, and bartender uniform that she has on.

his thoughts are interrupted once more when she looks down at him, speaking softly "are you okay?" she asks, with a gentle and concerned look, while whipping up a drink for another customer sat at the bar.

he nods his head vigorously, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. he peels his eyes back open and look up at her behind the counter, "yeah 'm fine. jus' a real shitty night." he says, lifting the cup back to his lips.

she tilts her head, gently trying to press the issue, seeing that he was stressed and upset. "Do you want to talk about it?" she says, picking up the cleaning supplies for the counter. his eyes study her, watching as she cleans off the counter, his pupils dilated.

he ponders on the question in his drunken mind for a moment before replying, his words slightly slurred. "yeah, yeah. can i get another one of these though?" he says, raising his glass.

she nods, grabbing the glass out of his shaky hand, pouring the alcohol into it, waiting for him to speak when he's ready. after a few moments, the buzzed blonde lifts his head again, looking up at her.

"My girlfriend, she's just so annoying..." he starts, "I mean she always wants to be next to me, huggin' me and shit." he says, waving his hand and rolling his eyes. he snatches the half empty glass, bringing it to his lips once more, taking a long sip, his words slurred, and voice unsteady.

he swallows the liquid with a loud gulp, turning to narrow his eyes at the brunette once more. "im not used t' that, y'know? its all new to me..." he says, a hint of vulnerability behind his words.

---

Rafe had been ignoring you for a few days now, figuring out ways to end the conversation faster, trying to avoid your affectionate gestures, staying out later, being too busy with work to hangout, it was starting to make you feel like he was seeing someone else.

you looked at his shared location, driving to the location it showed to you. taking a deep breath, you step out of the car, entering the crowded bar. you fiddle with your hands shyly as you walk around to find the buzzed man.

When you finally spotted him, you almost felt relieved, until you saw him talking to the pretty brunette behind the counter, her smile making your insides churn. You came to a halt, hesitating for a moment, before continuing to walk over to him.

you reach out with shaky hands, tapping his shoulder softly, the familiar feeling of the tears starting to form in your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

He sees the tears forming in your eyes and he immediately feels a sense of protectiveness and guilt, pulling you to his broad chest, giving you a hug the best he can in his drunken state. he knows better than to say anything, so he waits for you to speak.

"Are you seeing someone else?" you hiccup through the tears, not daring to bring your head away from his chest, soaking his shirt with your salty tears. he shushes you softly, cradling your head like you were the most precious baby in the world.

"no, no, no, hey, 'm not cheating." he slurs, the strong scent of alcohol on his breath making your nose turn up in disgust, but he doesnt seem to realize.

the tears continue to spill looking from him to the lady pouring drinks for people, silently sizing her up, figuring out how she was better than you. Rafe grabs your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head so he can look you straight in the eye.

even if he was drunk, he really loved you and he wouldn't cheat. no matter how sensitive, clingy, impatient, and poor you were, he knew who his girlfriend was. And for you he was willing to try and change his ways.

he grabs your hand in his bigger one, intertwining his fingers with yours, leading you out of the bar and to his car that costed more than your life.

he cups your cheek in his large hand, the coolness of his ring hitting your damp skin as he looks down at you with soft, vulnerable eyes that are reserved for only you. "Baby you gotta believe me when I say I only want you." he pleads, using the pads of both his thumbs to wipe your tears away.

you sniffle and nod, soaking up his reassurances, and leaning into his soft touches. you knew despite rafe's rough exterior, he was trying to change. and you wanted to be there for him.

"I know..." you mumble softly, pulling him into a tight hug, making up for all the lost time. "Just promise you won't try to hide your feelings anymore. when things get bad at home, you can talk to me."

"i know," he says on the verge of his own tears. "Which is why I wanna marry you... I wanna be with you the rest of my life." a few tears fall from his blue eyes as he speaks.

he pulls away from the hug to slip his gold signet ring off his finger, staring at it for a moment before grabbing your left hand, slipping it onto your ring finger.

"I don't have a wedding ring on me right now," he chuckles in between his happy, drunken tears, "but for now, I want you to have this." he says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the ring on your finger, his lips lingering for a few moments.

you open your mouth to say something, but you didn't know what to say. you pull him into another tight embrace, sighing softly in relief of being in his arms again, admiring the ring on your finger that was once on his.

"I love you so much, Rafe." You say, even though you could barely speak through the intense emotions that were flooding through your veins.

"I love you too, sweetheart. and I'm gonna be the man you need, the man that you deserve. you hear?" he says, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, picking you up with ease, pressing kisses to your neck.

a mischievous grin spreads across his face, nibbling on your neck. "gotta bring y' home and make it up to you. huh baby?" he grins.

[poguelandiarafe]

unspoken truths | rafe cameron

pairing - rafe cameron x female reader

warnings - none, just some angst and fluff

summary - during a 'networking event' with your family and rafe's, you discover he's denying your relationship while you've been proudly showing it off. this sparks an argument where rafe admits his true feelings and vulnerabilities.

masterlist

--------

all night, a polite smile has been plastered on your face as you make conversation with people you hardly know. you don't want to be here, but your parents and the camerons, who are co-hosting the party at tanneyhill insist all the kids make an appearance. a united front to keep up appearances as the 'perfect families' of figure eight.

the party, or 'networking' event, as your parents put it, is far more formal than what you're used to. you're used to parties on the beach or some random kook's house, wearing a bikini or mini dress while drinking as much alcohol as you can—not a floor-length dress, sipping on champagne, and only speaking when you're spoken to.

you've been seeing rafe for a few months now, and though there's no official label on it, you know in your heart it's real. the late-night phone calls, the way he always manages to scope you out in a room full of people and never lets his attention stray from you, the stolen kisses in the corner of whatever room you're both in. which is why you see no problem with telling people you're together when your parent's nosy friends ask if you have a boyfriend.

a woman who you recognise as your dad's friend comes over to you, starting a polite conversation before asking, "so, any boyfriend yet?"

a coy smile tugs at your lips as you answer, "yeah actually."

"can i ask who?" she asks, eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"uh-rafe, rafe cameron."

her eyebrows lift and she scans the room, looking for him. you follow her gaze, unable to stop your cheeks from flushing when he smirks at you from across the room. see, he always finds you.

"oh, he's handsome. you're a lucky girl." she laughs before being dragged into another conversation, offering you a small wave which you return.

as the night goes on, you're asked if you're seeing someone by several other people, and each time you respond with rafe's name. what you don't know is that, on the other side of the room, he's in a conversation with people telling them the exact opposite.

"y/n? no, we're not together why?" rafe asks.

"oh, uh- she told us before you guys were. but i must've misheard." the businessman says, coughing awkwardly.

"yeah, you probably misheard her. we're just friends." he replies, his tone indifferent as he sips his beer.

unaware of this, you continue going around as if everything is fine, glowing from the compliments people are giving you. you don't understand how fake the compliments are until later, when you're standing by the bar and overhear a hushed conversation about you and rafe.

"rafe said they're just friends. i kind of feel bad for her, i mean, going around telling everyone you're together when you're not. it's embarrassing." someone whispers.

you freeze, your grip tightening on the glass in your hand. without a second thought, you scan the room looking for him, eventually spotting him laughing with a group of guys as if nothing's wrong. you're fuming, the sight making your blood boil.

marching through the crowd, you stalk over to him until he locks eyes with you, giving you a smile. normally you love his smile, but this time it makes you even angrier. the group of men around him sense the oncoming storm you'll inevitably bring and leave the two of you alone.

"hey, sorry i've barely seen you toni-" he starts but you cut him off, anger flooding through you.

"what is your problem?" you snap, crossing your arms over your chest that he can't help but sneak a look at, "just friends, huh?"

his brows furrow in confusion, "what are you going on about?"

"don't play dumb with me rafe. you've been going around all night telling people we're just friends."

"so?" he shrugs, casually sipping his beer.

"so?" you laugh bitterly, but your voice is laced with hurt, "i've been going around calling you my boyfriend. do you have any idea how humiliating this is?"

suddenly aware of the growing crowd, rafe steps closer to you, "i'm not doing this here y/n, come with me."

but when he tries to grab your hand, you pull it back, "don't touch me."

he knows you'll only argue with him more if he tries to grab you, so instead he walks away, knowing you'll most likely follow him. he's right, the clicking of your heels against the hardwood floor gives you away.

"rafe cameron, you do not walk away from me!" you shout, trailing after him until the door to his bedroom clicks shut behind you both.

you're standing in the middle of his room now, arms crossed and chest heaving in frustration as you glare at him. his beer bottle is still in his hand, bringing it up to his lips to take a swig before setting it down on the dresser. he brushes past you, opting to sit on the edge of his bed instead. the air between you both is tense, full of anger and confusion.

"you finished?" he asks, tone sharp.

"no, i am not finished," you fume, starting to pace up and down, "you humiliated me rafe. i was calling you my boyfriend like i was some delusional girl who's desperately in love with you. people pitied me when you denied us being together. do the past four months mean fucking nothing to you?"

he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, stare locked on the floor. a ringed hand runs over his buzzed head and he lets out a frustrated sigh. all the things he wants to say are swimming around his head, but the words get stuck, like the wall he's built up over time is refusing to let them out.

"of course they mean something to me." he says, voice softer than you're expecting, "but i've got my reasons y/n."

you stop pacing now, turning to face him, "so tell me. because right now you're just making excuses and i don't deserve that. i've been nothing but kind and caring and loving to you. i deserve to know rafe."

when he finally looks up from the floor, you're surprised to see his eyes full of tears, on the verge of spilling onto his cheeks. stepping forward, you cautiously place a hand on each of his knees, parting them until there's enough space for you to stand between them.

"please." you whisper, his hands coming up to rest on your hips.

"i don't know how to do this. i don't know how to love someone and not screw it up. i... i'm a disappointment to everyone and i don't want to be a disappointment to you. i don't want to screw this up." he admits, voice trembling.

"rafe, look at me," you softly demand, cupping his face to brush away the tears that escaped, "you're not a disappointment, okay? you won't screw this up either, but i need you to try. i'm not going anywhere anytime soon but it's not fair for me to put all my effort into us if you don't want this."

"i do want this," the words spill out in a rush, "i want this more than anything, i'm just scared. wanna protect you from all the shit i come with."

your heart aches at how vulnerable he's being. you've never seen him like this, always used to him being his confident, cocky self. leaning forward, you press a soft kiss to his forehead, then his lips.

"you don't think i knew what i was getting myself into? i can handle it, just like i have been. just want you to talk to me, okay? be honest with me." you murmur.

he nods, resting his head on your stomach and tugging you closer to him. for the first time all night, you feel him relax. his shoulders drop and it's almost like you can feel his wall crumbling, wanting to let you further in.

"come on, let's go to bed. i sure as hell don't wanna go back down there."

"okay." he mumbles, "can you stay here tonight?"

"wasn't going anywhere else." you promise.

you let your nails scratch at his scalp for a few seconds before trailing down to his tie, carefully tugging at it until it becomes loose. undoing it properly, you let it fall to the floor. reaching for the buttons of his shirt next, you begin undoing them one by one.

"you don't have to." he starts, but you simply shake your head, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"i want to," you reply softly, "let me take care of you."

your fingers gently brush his skin as you finish undoing the buttons, pushing the material off his shoulders and letting him shrug it off his body. the tension continues to leave his body the more your hands stroke up and down his arms. his hands, once gripping your hips, now trail up your back until they're tugging down the zipper of your dress.

once you're both undressed, you climb into the bed, pulling the covers back to invite rafe in, who's still standing at the side of the bed. letting out a shaky breath, he climbs in after you, instantly pulling you closer and resting his head on your chest. his warm breath tickles your skin as he nuzzles further into you, arms wrapping around your waist to anchor himself. your fingers run over his bare back, tracing patterns while his breathing evens out.

"you're not alone you know? i'm here for you, always will be." you murmur.

his arms tighten around you like he's scared you'll slip away, "i know. sometimes it's just too much. i don't want it to become too much for you."

you lean down, leaving a kiss on the top of his head, "it won't. and if it ever does we'll get through it together, because i told you i'm not going anywhere."

he doesn't say anything in response, but he doesn't have to. feeling how his hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, squeezing them is enough.

a few minutes of silence pass, and when you look down you see that his eyes are closed and his lips are pouting ever so slightly. he's fallen asleep. sleep that's much needed. you glance toward your phone on the nightstand, debating whether to text your parents or let them worry about your absence until morning. you're not in the mood for a fight though, so you quickly send them a message explaining you'd be spending the night at tanneyhill.

as you set your phone on the nightstand, the bedroom door creaks open, and a figure you recognise as ward obstructs the light from the hallway. his eyes scan the room looking for rafe before noticing he's mostly covered by the bedsheets, his head resting on your chest as you gently scratch at his scalp. ward clears his throat, attempting to catch his son's attention, but rafe's in a deep sleep, not even stirring at the sound. the door opens further and he steps fully into the room.

"hey, can i speak to rafe?" he asks, voice quiet but firm.

you shake your head, "not right now, just... leave him alone tonight ward. he's had a long day. he can't deal with anything else right now."

"it'll only take a minute y/n." he insists, eyes narrowing slightly in annoyance.

you don't waver, "no, just leave it. deal with it tomorrow."

with a reluctant nod, ward quietly leaves, shutting the door behind him. the room is left in complete darkness apart from the moonlight shining through the window, and rafe mumbles a sleepy 'thank you' against your skin.

"of course," you whisper, "i love you, rafe."

you feel him smile against you before mumbling, "i love you."

[l0lita-luv]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ “Polar Opposites!!”

Fluff+Smut!!

Summary-Some fluffy hcs about you and Vi, along with other arcane characters. And some sweet sex at the end.

Warnings-Use of y/n, reader is described as hyper!fem, Powder still exists, Caitlyn is a friend, Vander, Mylo, & Claggor are still alive, Switch!Vi, Mostly Sub!reader, Fingering R!receiving, Oral R!receiving, pet names: Angel, baby, sweet sex :)

a/n- Wrote this before act lll came out so…

men dni!!

Sfw!!

Vi has always loved the way you dressed. Your frilly dresses and skirts, not to mention your adorable little shirts. When she first saw you, she just knew she had to have you!

When the two of you met, she was wandering the streets of Piltover going to visit Caitlyn. But when she saw you struggling to carry your groceries, she sprinted to help you

“Hey! Uhm-let me help you with that!” Vi said nervously, “Oh thank you so much!” You beamed at Vi’s kindness. She almost melted when she saw your adorable smile.

“You ok?” You asked snapping Vi out of her trance, “Oh yeah! Uh no problem!” Vi stumbled helping you carry your groceries to your car.

“Could I maybe get your number?” You both asked in unison.

Everyone who knows her is so sick of hearing about you, specifically Powder

“Did you see what she wore today? It looked great on her right?” Vi said rambling to Powder once again, “Mhm…she looked great Vi.” Powder said her voice dripping in annoyance. Sighing as Vi opened her mouth once again.

But when everyone meets you they understand why Vi is so utterly in love

When Powder sees you she’s just so stunned by your clothes, hair and everything about you!

She’s tries to contain herself from stealing the bow in your hair

When Claggor and Mylo meet you, their very akward

Stumbling over their words, and saying things most would find offensive!

Vi was obviously staring them down the whole time

When you first met Caitlyn, you were a bit scared of her…why? Well because of the amount of stories Vi has told her about you, you were afraid you would make a horrible first impression

But when Caitlyn greeted you with a warm smile and a hug, you knew everything was fine.

Overall, everyone loves you

She also likes how your style and hers clash

Def calls you angel, doll, and love

She tries to act tough whenever the two of you are out but behind closed doors, she’s such a sap

Buys you whatever you want!

“Baby…can I get this?” You ask holding up a pair of heels. “Of course you can! They would look great on you.” Vi responds looking at the price tag nervously.

But it was worth it! Because let’s just say you payed her back…

Nsfw!!

Absolutely loves when you wear skirts and dresses

Lowkey gets annoyed when you try to take it off

“Babe-“ Vi tries to speak between kisses, tugging your skirt up. “Keep it on!” Vi manages to get out.

You love when Vi gets like this, you pay her no mind continuing to grind on her lap making her groan as you took your shirt off.

You were so focused on teasing her you didn’t even notice when she took of your panties, until she slipped in a finger only to pull out and rub your clit sweetly. “Vi!” You squeak, “Please…”

She only smiles at you, flipping the two of you over so that you can be under her. Quickly taking off her shirt.

“What do you want Angel?” Vi asks taking one of your nipples between her fingertips pinching them, making you whine. “Y-your mouth…” You whisper loud enough for her to hear.

Vi chuckles softly at your desperation, leaning forward to kiss you making her way down to your throbbing cunt. Almost immediately getting to work, she was eating you like you were her last meal. “Oh!” You yelp, reaching for Vi’s hair tugging her head closer. If even possible, she starts moving her tongue even faster making your moans louder.

You practically start screaming when she enters a finger pumping it in and out gently, looking up at you. “Think you can take another Angel?” Vi asks sweetly her face still buried in your cunt. “Yes!” You whimper your legs beginning to twitch. Vi gently slipping in another finger, her pace being generous.

“Vi…” You whisper, “Hm?” “Kiss me…” You whine. Vi comes back up, her fingers still moving. Leaning down to kiss you passionately, “I love you Angel.” Vi says, reaching for your hand, holding it. Your grip became tighter as you came undone, moaning into her mouth. “I love you too baby.” You respond back, catching your breath.

[girllblogging777]

𝑈𝑁𝑇𝑂𝑈𝐶𝐻𝐴𝐵𝐿𝐸 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader (cousin’s best friend)

↳ word count : 0,6k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo riddle has never done feelings, but that was until draco’s french cousin transferred from beauxbatons

✩✩✩✩

you were “untouchable”. that’s what everyone thought. that’s what everyone said. the first word pronounced when someone mentioned you. the “mysterious french girl” the “exchange student from beauxbatons” and most of all “draco malfoy’s cousin”. you couldn’t go anywhere in this school without hearing those words. everyone knew better when it came to daring looking your way or crossing your path.

as mean and cold as he looked, your cousin draco had a habit of being quite overprotective when it came to you. since you had transferred to hogwarts a couple of months ago, you had never been seen without him and his friends. the slytherin boys all had quite the reputation in this school, and ever since draco had introduced you to them, you knew the other students would leave you alone.

however, the “untouchable” rule came to your cousin’s friends too. they knew better than that, and to be honest you didn’t care much. enzo was caring, blaise was loyal, theo was compassionate, but what you and them had was purely platonic. the only person to whom that rule didn’t apply was the one and only mattheo riddle. the captivating brunette had been draco’s ride or die since first year and unfortunately for you, that meant you had to spend a lot of time together. but for some reason, the boy always seemed to be avoiding you. it wasn’t obvious at first but you had started to notice it in the little things, like when he’d leave the great hall everytime you sat at their table or go for a cigarette break when you approached the boys at a party. “what did i do to make him hate me ?” you often thought. “he doesn’t even know me…”

you always ended up brushing it off by talking and joking with the other guys, who unlike mattheo, were always here for you. what you didn’t know was that the dark lord’s son didn’t hate you, he just hated what you made him feel. the way his heart fluttered when you were around was nothing but platonic, wich is why he always felt like bolting when you approached him.

but what could he do ? you were breathtakingly beautiful. hell, captivating even. the way your hair was always perfectly falling around your face like an angel. how you made the cutest sound when you laughed at his friends’ jokes. and that sweet accent of yours didn’t help. every word that rolled out of your tongue made him lose his mind. the minute you had walked inside the great hall back in september, he knew he was done for. “they weren’t lying when they said french people were attractive”. imagine what he felt when right after being sorted into slytherin, you ran into draco’s arms. did his best friend have a girlfriend ? how could he have missed that ? he was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard “meet my cousin, y/n y/l/n”. and that’s when he realised the mess he was in.

mattheo riddle wasn’t known to be a romantic guy, he didn’t do feelings. the only times he was seen with girls were during drunk make out sessions at parties, or quickies in broom closets when he needed some relief. all his life, he had stayed away from love and its problems. the “untouchable” girl was the compete opposite. you were a hopeless romantic, saving yourself for the perfect romance you had read and dreamt about ever since you were little. and most of all, you were his best friend’s little cousin. he knew he should’ve stayed away from you, and he really tried.

but everything changed after that one time…

✩✩✩✩

a/n : this is my first time writing so please give me some feedback !!! also please like, comment and reblog, i’m taking requests (tell me if you wanna be tagged in my posts <3)

@pizzaapeteer @tateshifts @iris-qt @deadghosy @mattheosdior @sadnymi

[izuke-the-zombie]

🌸Sorry for the long ass absent guys 🫠 family and holidays have been crazy😮‍💨

I recently came across this short monkie kid wild West AU fanfic

It's short but it's really good, And it sort of got me in the mood to sketch or at least redraw the two mystic monkeys cowboy outfits again

I really wasn't sure whether to give Mac, purple boots or just black boots you can kind of see it in the first pick faded Mac.

🌸🐎🐴✨But I don't think I've seen anyone draw them with horses or write something about it, so I'm going to be the first one to do it! (I don't know how to draw them sitting on horses, so bear with me here.)😗💦 I know I put the scar on the wrong side of the Smokey Horse. My bad, let's just pretend it's on the right side.LOL😅🪷

😽💕I headCannon that when those two summon their horses together, they get really affectionate. The sheriff's horse is more like a big old golden retriever, playful and mischievous, and rarely ever listens to its owner. While over here, Mac's is more well-behaved and obedient, and they can get quite sassy sometimes. I'm not sure what to call it. It's hard to separate those two, so they try not to summon them at the same time.

They're also very affectionate to the monkeys especially the opposite ones.🐶🐎✨💕

😄I want a scenario where they let the horses stay instead of just poofing them out of existence so MK/MEI can play with the horses just a bit longer since they were begging them by giving them the puppy dog eyes (especially on Mei's side; she's a horse girl fan), and after a long while, the sheriff notices that his horse Nimbus was acting a little more strange and protective over the Smokey horse, letting them eat first, and just never leaving their side. All sorts of strange behavior on the Nimbus side. All he ever notices from the shadow horse is that they were a little sluggish, but he doesn't think too much of it.😗🤠🐵

🌟Until one day, BAM! This little cutie came into the world as a precious, adorable little cinnamon roll, prancing around like it owns the world.🧁😽🌎✨

🐎There's stupidly protective over this little guy.👿😡🦄🐴☀️🌙🌠

🐴And there's a huge problem. This little guy is clumsy as heck. He's new and everything, so of course he is, but he likes to adventure out without his horsey parents knowing or anyone else, and he loves playing games like tag his favorite, but because he's so clumsy, he causes damage that MK or his mentors have to fix, so everyone has to be on high alert and watch over the little rascal. LMAO 🐎🍼💥💕✨

🌸I hope you enjoyed this, I certainly had fun drawing this I wish there was more wild West monkeys fics there's some freaking cute💕✨

💥Aaaah! I love these freaking cow monkeys 😆💖

[cindol]

so… more old money!sukuna.

cw — kuna is in his 40s, reader is in her mid 30s, oops sukuna, sukuna is dumb with computers, reader is very calm and collected, rushed smut, pussy eating, crack/fluff at the end,

sukuna ryomen x fem reader

old money!sukuna is a opposites attracts kind of person when it comes to love, it’s exactly why he has you as his wife now. In his 40s he’s more calm and laid back but in his prime early 20s, but that was another story for another day.

sukuna was smart it’s how he had a such a successful career and company but he couldve never done without you, his calm and collected wife.

When he was puzzled by something on his computer you were there to help. While he clicked buttons on his new brought computer you were standing behind him humming.“well dear, have you tried turning it on?”

when you don’t get a response back you pat his head.“well let’s start with that yes? And maybe if there’s a problem beyond that we’ll reboot it or return it back or perhaps give it off to a younger relative.”

your a big helper with paper work too. He never overworked you knowing how paper work can be hectic, so you always sat next to him in your own chair skimming through paperwork with him.

even his own style you had a hand in, while trying suits on your opinion was needed to him.“I think that red suit with a pink flower or even a fake pink rose would go good yes? It would show everyone the man of the hour at this event.”

Although, when you stressed was a different story and where sukuna could dominate.

your professional image was torn down in the master bedroom. Your usual neat low bun messy and the high neck sleeveless grey dress you wore discarded with your jimmy choo heels off in the corner somewhere.

With your back pressed to the bed and your thighs on his broad shoulders and cries coming from your usual monotone voice as he ate and slurped at your pussy.

For sukuna it was always amusing just to see your image of this professional woman break apart when you were so needy. He switches from eating you out sloppily from small kisses on your clit to make you moan more for his amusment.

“it’s so fun y’know? Just seeing how my little office wife just breaks when you give her some small pussy kisses.”

When you whine interrupting his dialogue he chuckled.“don’t worry baby, I’ll feed my needy little office siren’s pussy as much as she needs.” then going back to sloppy eating with your juices dripping onto his jaw as your hands gripped at his pink hair.

When he completely drains you he just leans up in his bed while lighting a cig and staring at your heels in the corner.“should’ve left the heels on, would’ve made it even 10x hotter than it already was.”

“put it on the checklist or something yeah?”

[pomefioredove]

I LOVED the stim headcanons sm! it scratched my autistic brain in a good way :333

I was wondering if you could possibly do headcanons with the rest of Diasomnia, Pomefiore, and Heartslabyul with the same premise (the stimming thing)? I can see Trey being very accommodating for the reader :3

Thank you! 🩷🩷🩷🩷

hi anon I was in therapy yesterday for the first time in a while and when I got out I realized I had been stimming the ENTIRE time

dorm leaders + jamil

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ reader who stims!

type of post: headcanons characters: ace, deuce, trey, cater, epel, rook, sebek, silver, lilia additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

now, I don't think Ace makes fun of it, but he definitely...

"you're doing that thing again,"

listen, it's not that it bothers him, or distracts him. it's not even weird!

he just... finds you really... interesting?

will say you're an "interesting critter fr bro" and leave it

Deuce is the complete opposite

he will never ever say anything about your stims

won't even ask

he just really doesn't want to be rude. he's not that guy anymore!

(you don't know how to tell him that he stims without realizing it)

he's like your knight in shining armor... kind of

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

guys I hate to say it but Cater has 100% armchair diagnosed most of the people he knows

and like... he's right... but come on!

at least he usually keeps it to himself. so when he picks up on your stimming he just... doesn't say anything

it's just another nice little tidbit of information on you :) of which he has many

for normal reasons

of course

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, Trey is a sweetie, as always

but he's also a liar

he is not, in fact, "this nice to everyone"

he actually does the bare minimum he needs to do to get by

the guy is spoiling you

making sure you're fed and warm and comfortable the moment you step over the threshold

stimming is no problem

if you like the feeling of dough, or the sound of eggs cracking, he'll have you in the kitchen with him :)

he rather likes you, and your stims

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I know Rook's autistic self isn't about to say anything

but, really, he already stims. subtly, but constantly

and seeing you mirror his own behaviors...

he is smitten

as if he couldn't grow any fonder of you...

now, unless it becomes upsetting or harmful, he sees no reason to stop you. he rather likes watching your every little move

and Epel is a loyal little thing

once you're his, that's it, it's over, you could literally kill someone and he'd show up with bleach and a mop like "where's the body"

so, yeah

some humming or tapping or clicking isn't going to bother him

honestly half the time he doesn't even notice

bro is too busy fighting his sensory issues with his uniform

(the sensory issues are winning)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Sebek scolds you for distracting him

he can already hardly think straight when his eyes are always drawn to you!!! >:(

now you're moving, too?!

he can't help but stare, which just upsets him more

it's not until Lilia takes your side that he calms down

the aforementioned having his own... quirks

(and much louder ones, too)

this is all background noise for Silver

is he just used to it? is he currently half-asleep and wouldn't notice if a bomb went off behind him?

who's to say!

he's passing out on your shoulder while you repeat the same word over and over either way

[leaawrites]

Please Please Please (OB3)

Ollie Bearman x fem!reader

Summary: The internet can be a cruel place, especially when no one knows your boyfriend is taken, and rumors seem to be loved by the f1 community.

Warnings: allegations of cheating, cursing, crying, alcohol,

Wordcount: 1.5k

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

“Holy shit.”

Y/n looked from the dance floor to her friend, who was sitting opposite of the table they were all gathered around in a club way too fancy for a simple night out. She was just filming a video of her other friend, Kasey, dancing with her boyfriend; liking to capture any moment of life possibly.

“What?” Y/n asked, stop recording in case something terrible has happened. You never knew who would see those videos one day.

She watched Lily, the one who spoke first, look up at her, her eyes filled with guilt. A guilt she could see was growing into pity by the second. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows together, looking at the other two around her to find answer in them, but she didn’t. It was all just a single feeling. Pity.

“What happened?” She asked again, fear and panic creeping up her spine.

Lily turned her phone around, showing her the screen in front of her. There was a photo of someone who looked like her boyfriend, dancing with another girl. Tears threatened to leave her eyes, the make up on her face scolding her for crying over something so stupid.

She didn’t even know if it was him

It could just be a friend of his he hadn’t introduced her to yet. (she couldn’t really blame him, he knew her friends barely too. They were only dating for about 3 months now and with his job as a future F1 driver, the media went crazy over him at the moment.)

He promised her, he would always be there for her.

Kasey stumbled over to the table, clutching her boyfriends hand and giggling. The alcohol in her blood rushing her heartbeat to a new high. She bent down, leaving a kiss on Y/n’s cheek, who was still sitting as if she was paralyzed.

Sinking down on the chair next top her, she said, “I saw you filming. Thank you for being the best friend anyone could wish for. Ollie’s really lucky to have you.” Her voice still boomed over the others, but the music was a bit quieter than on the dance floor. They all heard her, loud and clear.

Y/n started picking at her nails at the mention of his name, the phone still in her hands. Looking down on it, she felt a tear slip past her eye and down on the screen. His profile facing her, not looking at her. He was looking at her. The girl he was so close with. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t. He would never do something like this, right? He would never hurt her like this. This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

“What’s wrong, love?” Kasey asked, sensing the strange behavior of her friend. Y/n’s body collapsed into her arms, tears streaming down her face. She put the phone on the table, clear for everyone to see.

Please, please, please, don’t let it be him.

“That motherfucker,” Kasey cursed him, watching the screen, sobering up rather quickly now that the anger flooded her veins instead. “Who does he think he is? A red bull driver? No, he’s with Haas.”

Lily took her phone back, dialing his number, ready to call in case Y/n wanted to. Kasey rubbed the girl’s arm in comfort, looking at her boyfriend to tell him to get the car ready outside the club. She wanted to go home, so much was clear.

“It’s probably just his British nicety shining through,” Lily tried to make him seem innocent. She knew how shitty it was, but she also knew that the internet lied about most things. Y/n didn’t know the truth, she shouldn’t be too quick to assume anything.

The group was hesitant about Ollie from the beginning, wanting to protect Y/n from future heartbreak or problems like these. The internet and how people felt bigger through it. Putting their opinion higher than anyone else’s, because there no one truly knew them. They knew she would get hate for dating him, they knew he had the ability to make her feel like the most worthless person to ever exist. But she loved him and so they watched the tale unfold with suspicion.

“You wanna go home?” Kasey cooed, making the girl nod and wipe her eyes.

With her head low, she walked as quick as she could, avoiding the crowd like she was a fallen soldier. Holding back the evidence of failing in fear of seeming weak.

Ollie made sure they were staying between them, not showing her off to the public and seemingly being single to the fans, just in case they would ruin what they had. As it seems, he could do it all by himself.

" I need to talk to him,” she mumbled as the stumbled out of the club, holding on to Lily’s hand in fear of tripping in her state. The girl only handed her her phone, the number already ready.

Excusing herself to a more secluded place, Y/n walked over to the other side of the small parking lot beneath a street light so that they could still see her. Kasey explained to her boyfriend what she was doing.

Y/n took a deep breath before exhaling and waiting for a second until her voice seemed stable enough to talk to him. It rang three times before he finally picked up. The music in the background fading as he answered and walked further away to hear her more clearly.

“Lily?” he asked.

Right, she thought, it wasn’t her phone.

“Is everything alright? Is Y/n okay?” he continued asking, sounding slightly panicked.

“I’m fine,” the girl answered.

“Y/n?” Ollie asked, surprised to hear his girlfriend’s voice on the other side of the line. “What is going on? Do you need my help? Did your phone die again?”

“No, uhm, I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” she said, her voice wavering and eventually breaking.

“Hold up, let me get out of here so I can listen to you properly.” Y/n waited, legs trembling, while the music was completely gone after a door closed on Ollie’s side. “What is it? Did you cry? You sound like it. Did you hurt yourself or anything?”

“If you don’t want me, you should say it before I fall even more for you, you know?” She said, tears falling again.

“What?” Ollie was shocked. She imagined his eyebrows creasing together, his eyes filling with panic, his heartbeat picking up. She wanted him to hurt when she did too. It were his own actions in the end after all. “I don’t understand what you mean? Not wanting you? How could you even say something like that? Of course I want you.”

“Do you also want her?” It was now or never, and if she had to get the truth out of him, she might as well make it quick.

“What? Who?” he asked again. Confused. Trying to wrap his head around where she got the feeling from that they weren’t serious.

“The girl in the photos from tonight?” she continued talking. “I saw them, OK? You don’t have to lie anymore. Please, Ollie, please tell me the truth. Please.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said honestly.

“Lily showed me photos of you in the club tonight with a girl. You seemed cozy. Close.” She bit her lip from crying even more. Now that the words left her mouth, they felt more real too. More threatening.

“What did she look like? What did I look like?” He had to make sure she trusted him and that was by showing her that whatever she saw, wasn’t real.

“You looked normal?” she said, confused as to what he wanted the answers for. “White shirt, brown hair. I don’t know, Ollie, I don’t know what she looked like, I couldn’t look at her.” She started sobbing again, hand over her mouth to stifle the pathetic sounds coming from her. “I just couldn’t have it be real. I couldn’t.”

“It’s not,” he said, assuring her. His heart broke at the mere thought of hurting her. Hiding her was his way of protecting her, but maybe it wasn’t the best way to do it. Maybe that only made it worse. “What you saw, it was not real. I know what you’re talking about, I know about the pictures. Arthur showed them to me a few seconds before you called. I wanted to call you, I really did. You were just the first one to do so.”

“It wasn’t you?” she asked to make sure. A burden falling from her heart at the relief of not losing him like this.

“It’s not me,” he said. After a moment of silence he added, “I’ll pick you up, okay? We’ll get home and talk about everything, alright?”

“Yes.” she nodded even though he couldn’t see her. Smiling at the knowing of the truth. “I love you, Ollie.”

“I love you too.”