#GUYS THIS IS THE LONGEST PART THUS FAR

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 10

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader manage to discuss the direction of their physical relationship between makeouts. reader isn't feeling comfortable at her apartment, so they plan their first trip together.

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this fic is 18+ warnings/tags: d/s dynamics but not smutty, softdom!spencer/sub reader, mild pda?, hint at switch!spencer, they talk about sex/how r feels about her first time, making out, r has long hair, almost dry humping if you're standing several miles away, unresolved sexual tension, teasing/flirting. don't like? don't read a/n: yayyyyy hi guys!! no idea when part 11 will be out. I missed them. I love them so bad. they are my favorite ever. they are so special to me 4ever. hope u missed them and ur just as happy to see them happy as I am :")

“Do you like eyelet?” Spencer asks, reaching up to grab a set of sheets you couldn’t. He insists that you let him get everything from the top shelf because it’s been handled less. 

You shrug, distracted by the angle of his jaw and the line of his throat as he retrieves the plastic package. 

It’s Sunday. Three nights in a row spent with him—the longest sleepover streak thus far—and you don’t want to go back to sleeping alone tonight. But you know it’s time. Both of you have things to attend to tomorrow, and you’re not exactly in the habit of getting things done when you’re together. All weekend you’ve lounged in his lap on the couch or tangled yourself in his arms in bed—fully clothed, of course. Spencer had suggested the no-sex rule on Friday, and you’re glad for it. You feel no pressure to be doing more when he’s kissing you or holding you. 

Of course, the concept of having sex again crosses your mind—when you’re washing your face and catch a glimpse of the bruises on your neck in the mirror, or when the tips of Spencer’s fingers trace idly over a span of exposed skin on your lower back as you watch a movie on the couch and you’re struck with desire, or you move just right and feel a tiny lingering twinge of soreness. There was a time when if you had Spencer Reid to yourself for three nights, a Navy SEAL wouldn’t have been able to pull you off of him. Now, when you think about the fact that there will be a second time, you get that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling—but you’re not sure if it’s good or apprehensive. 

Either way, it’d be too much right now. 

You do miss feeling that kind of closeness with him. That intimacy. It can’t be replicated, no matter how many naps you take together. Probably something to do with brain chemicals and hormones. He could explain it all, if you were brave enough to ask. 

So you know it’d be too much… but it’s not that you don’t want it. There is also, of course, the issue of the way he looks. It’s not helping your cognition. It’s not encouraging you to make good choices. 

You’re not supposed to be thinking about sex. You’re supposed to tell him if you like eyelet. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

Spencer gives you an exasperated look and sighs. He’s wearing his glasses today. His hair is freshly washed and fluffy. The navy blue sweater he’s wearing is about the only step between a button down and pajamas for him, and he looks good in casual clothing. You chew your lip. 

He doesn’t notice your ogling. “You’ve said that about everything.”

“I’m really not that passionate about the fabric of my sheets,” you defend, shoulders rising and dropping. 

“Surely you like some of them less and some of them more. Usually you jump at the chance to express an opinion.”

Okay. Uncalled for. 

He’s obviously kidding. You overreact anyway. 

“You suck,” you mumble, brushing past him in search of something suitable for your bed. 

Spencer processes this for a moment and then trails after you down the aisle. 

“I suck?”

“Here, look. Bamboo. That’s good, right?”

Your boyfriend glances at the package you’ve selected, probably holding back a whole host of facts about bamboo farming in China. 

“It’s fine. Why do I suck?”

“Because you implied I’m opinionated.”

“I didn’t imply it. It was an explicit statement.”You groan petulantly and put the sheets back on the shelf with force. Spencer picks them up and follows you deeper into the store. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You didn’t,” you huff, turning around to face him once you’re safely sequestered in a new aisle. The store’s not busy—an elderly couple roams for fake fruit and towels, humming vacantly to the Muzak, and a single mom wrangles her kids in a cart. Back here, it’s just the two of you. “Not really.”

“Then what did?” He asks gently, stepping closer. Spencer’s not overly-affectionate in public, but the tone of his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he can see your thoughts, feels intimate. 

You’re helpless when he gets like this, and he probably knows it. It’s an abuse of power and when you can think straight again you’ll have to scold him for it. 

“It doesn’t even matter. You’re just gonna drop me off after this anyway.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy, eyes alight with a good puzzle as he quickly strings together the facts in his head. 

“Is that it?”

You frown and hesitate, eyes catching on a loose thread at the hem of his sweater. 

“… No.”

“Yeah, it is. You’re upset because I’m taking you home.”

You scramble to deny. “That’s not it.”

“I think it is,” he murmurs, a smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth. 

You study the waxen floor tiles intently. 

“Well… I mean, would that be weird? You’re gonna miss me too, right?”

You sound unsure—insecure, even. When you look back up at him, his eyes are melted chocolate, even under the fluorescents. He glances down at your mouth briefly and then over your shoulder. 

Pleasekissmepleasekissmepleasekissme.

He doesn’t, but you can tell he really wants to, which is almost as good. 

“Of course, I’m going to miss you. But we’ll see each other soon. Probably tomorrow.”

“Unless you get called out on a case. But it’s not even really that. It’s just—how am I supposed to… I don’t know! We just spent three nights together. How am I supposed to go back to sleeping alone for a whole week?”

Maybe you’re too attached to him now, because acknowledging the thought which has been lurking all morning opens the floodgates that were holding back a sea of dread, and you feel it in every inch of your body. Five nights alone stretch out before you like an infinite, impassable forest. Friday is an eternity away, and there’s no guarantee he’ll even be here Friday night, if the team gets a case. 

Spencer somehow regards you with both curiosity and innate wisdom, like you’re a new specimen in a familiar field, for a long enough moment that your cheeks begin to warm. 

“Sorry, that was embarrassing. I’m being weird, it’s fine—”

Just as you go to walk away, he pulls you carefully back in by the wrist, even closer than before. 

“No. You’re sweet,” he murmurs, hand warm even through the knit of your sleeve. Gingerly you look back up at him. 

“But you’re not gonna miss me as much as I miss you.”

“Do not undermine my capacity for yearning. I missed you when you were brushing your teeth this morning.”

“Ooh. So clingy,” you tease, though you’re obviously delighted by the information, and he borderline pouts. 

“Don’t say that. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh as he pulls you to his chest, keeping you there with a hand to your back. 

“Okay. Now say you love me.”

For a moment you’re distracted by the proximity, the lowering of his voice as he brings you into his space and your faces are only inches apart. The smell of his body wash coming from both of you. 

“I love you,” you breathe, and it’s not as teasing as you’d meant for it to be as his eyes dart to your lips. 

Even though you’re bossy, is what you don’t say. 

This seems to please him, because finally, he’s tilting his head down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It’s still enough to make you lightheaded. 

“Apology accepted. I love you too,” he murmurs. And then he’s pulling back, trying to walk around you. “Do you wanna stop for coffee on the way back to yours?”

“Wait,” you order, suddenly listless and disoriented in the middle of the aisle. “You’re not gonna…”

Spencer frowns back at you.

“I’m not gonna what?”

“You’re not gonna… say it?”

“… I love you? I did say that.”

“No, there’s—usually when I do stuff you ask me to do, you say—”

Only when the first ray of understanding illuminates his face do you realize you actually shouldn’t have said anything at all. 

“Nevermind. Yeah, let’s just go.”

Spencer catches your arm again as you attempt to walk past him, laughing quietly as he leans down to speak in your ear. 

“I am not calling you good girl in the small decorative statues aisle.”

“What if we go back to the bedding aisle?” You ask, through the warmth of your own cheeks. 

It’s sort of a joke. 

“Remember what I said about appropriate context?”

“All those sheets, and duvet covers, and stuff. It’s basically the same.”

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to tear your eyes from a little robot statue and look at him. Eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed, warmed only by a hint of humor. A barely detectable curve of the mouth. 

Oops. With all your blind-button pushing, you might’ve accidentally tapped the one responsible for all the marks on your neck—the one that makes him tick in a way which usually ends with you underneath him. 

And then, for the first time, you actually watch as he pushes it down—activates some sort of self-cooling system. Probably he understands that whether you meant to be provocative or not, this interaction isn’t headed in a salacious direction. Even if you weren’t in public, the rule is holding fast. 

His hand slides from your arm to intertwine with your fingers. 

“What are you doing next week?”

You blink at the sudden change in subject and tone. 

“Uh… I don’t know. Working, probably.”

“From home?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He chews his lip thoughtfully. 

“I… still have a few days of annual leave that I need to use. I don’t know if this is… this might be too much, and you can say no. But Rossi has a place in Shenandoah. It’s a cabin—it’s, it’s really nice, I’ve seen pictures. He used to use it for hunting, I guess now he rents it out in the summer and fall but it’s empty during the off-season and he’s always offering it to the team. It’s only like, an hour away. An hour and nine minutes actually, if you take the 66 Express outside the Beltway from Arlington. I looked it up, um… semi-recently. I’m sure he’d let us use it, if you wanted to come burn four days of leave with me. No pressure. Of any kind. I could also, just, y’know, stay home, and we could still spend time together that way. We could finish Deep Space Nine. Or watch something else. Or watch nothing. Whatever you’d like to do.”

Your heart rate has been increasing steadily since he started his impromptu speech—you’re glad he seems nervous inviting you. You’re a little nervous accepting. A trip together is definitely a new step. But getting the hell out of dodge with him for a few days sounds wonderful. 

“I’d love to go,” you say earnestly. 

Spencer’s face goes blank for a second, and then his eyebrows raise, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes. 

“Oh. Oh! Great! Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to Rossi about it tomorrow.”

He remains highly chipper as he hands his card over to the cashier for your new overpriced bamboo sheets. 

The promise of getting Spencer to yourself for four consecutive days and nights is the only way you’re able to fall asleep to a cold bed that night. 

It’s harder, at home now—you’re self-conscious of every and any noise. Music, cooking, talking on the phone. 

It doesn’t make sense, because you know you can’t hear your neighbors, so they shouldn’t be able to hear you, and Jerry’s a creep, who might’ve made the whole thing up just to get under your skin—but it’s all you can think about, when you’re there. 

Monday evening, Spencer comes to visit, as promised. You undo all the locks and open the door just enough for him to slip through. 

He kisses you hello as you close the door and sets his things down at the table while you relock. 

“No Jerry today?”

“Nope. I haven’t seen him since Friday.”

“Good,” Spencer says only once you turn, a distinct chill to his tone and a mostly unfamiliar frigidity to his eyes. It’s not directed at you, but it’s unnerving nonetheless, so you draw closer and wrap your arms around his waist—hoping to melt him back into your Spencer. 

He reciprocates, speaks softer now that he has you in his arms, and immediately you feel better. 

“Rossi said yes to us staying at the cabin and Emily said I can take the time off. Did you still wanna go?”

You’re pre-occupied with your face buried in his shirt, so you just nod, basking in the scent of his shower products once more. They’ve gone from simply comforting to intoxicating. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks quietly, brushing your hair over your shoulder. His fingers barely glance off your neck and you almost shiver. Want begins to pool deep and warm in your stomach as you lift your head and he looks down at you, so fondly. 

Want which you can’t afford to feel if you’re not willing to act on it. 

“I’m fine,” you breathe. Fuck. He’s too close. He’s too hot. You pull away and move to the kitchen. “Um, dinner. What do you want? We could make something. Or order something. I don’t have much, honestly.”

“I’ll be happy with anything. You sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t want to have sex!”

The words simply explode out of you, like a bat out of hell as you whip around. Just barely you manage not to clap a hand over your mouth in mortification. 

You stand, back to the fridge, watching Spencer nervously for his reaction. 

His brow knits. His lips part and close again several times. 

You’re wondering what the fastest and most convenient method of not being alive anymore would be when he finally answers. 

“… Okay. I wasn’t trying to initiate anything, did I—did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know that while I’m still, like, figuring things out—like, with my neighbor and everything—it’s just a lot, so… so I know this past weekend we agreed to not do anything and I think it would be best to… keep not doing anything. Just for now. I shouldn’t have said it like that—I didn’t actually… mean to say it. I was gonna, um, find a way to bring it up more delicately.”

You clear your throat and look down to study the patterned tile, cheeks burning. 

By way of several nervous glances up at him and back down, you watch Spencer silently come to lean against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. We’re not ever going to do anything you don’t want to do. But, out of curiosity… is this just because of your neighbor? Or because you maybe don’t feel ready yet?”

He’s asking gently, because he wants to know, and you know there’s no wrong answer. It’s still nerve-racking.  

“Um… like, a combination of the two, I guess. Mostly… the neighbor. I think. But I’m telling you this because…” and here comes the worst part. “I need you… to… hold me accountable.”

“For what?” He asks plainly, but you know what he sounds like when perfectly suppressing a smile. The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your face as you close your eyes and forge ahead in the name of open and honest communication—something the two of you are trying to work on.

“If I… come on to you… you have to turn me down.”

This is not getting any less embarrassing. 

“Should I anticipate you coming onto me?”

“Probably,” you sigh, looking at him through your lashes and bringing your hands to your cheeks, hoping maybe they’ll cool you down and poor circulation will work in your favor for once. “I know myself. You know me. I like… asking you for things. But for the rest of the week, if I do… you know, want something from you—you have to tell me no.”

Spencer nods slowly. “What if you genuinely change your mind?”

“I won’t. I might think I have, I might even tell you I have, but don’t believe me, okay? I don’t think straight when I’m turned on, and if we do anything, I’ll like it until fucking Jerry is pounding my door down the next day, and I just can’t deal with that.”

Spencer’s face goes completely void of expression to the point that if it weren’t for context clues you’d have no idea he’s probably imagining pistol-whipping the guy. 

“Has he knocked on your door?” 

Testosterone. 

“No. Back to my point. I’m trusting you to keep me in check so I don’t do anything I’ll… I’ll end up regretting. Not that I regret the other night!” You scramble just as Spencer’s brow begins to furrow. “I don’t. I just regret that my gross neighbor had to get involved. And I don’t want that to happen again. So… is that… is that okay? Will you do that for me?”

“Of course I will,” Spencer says gently, without hesitation as he pushes off the counter. “Can I ask a follow-up question?”

You nod and regard the space between you, unsure if you want to eliminate it or keep using it like a buffer. By not coming to you, he’s giving you the choice. 

“You said this was mostly because of your neighbor. But you didn’t sound sure. It’s fine if you aren’t feeling ready yet. I just want to make sure I know what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t really know,” you admit, after a brief pause. “I feel like… as long as I know he’s on the other side of the wall I wouldn’t even be able to wrap my head around how I actually feel. It’s also confusing because, like I was saying, I… just because I feel like I want something in the moment, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m actually ready for it, you know? I don’t even know if… I don’t even know what being ready again really means or would look like.”

“You did the other night.”

“Yeah, but that was different. Because now I’m gonna think I know what I’m getting myself into, but that’s not necessarily true.”

Another pause in which you chew your lip and look away. 

“I don’t want you to overthink it, honey. I think being ready just means you’re comfortable, and you’re with someone who’s going to keep you safe, and nobody’s pressuring you, and you’re not, you know—pressuring yourself. Wanting it is actually really important, too. But what I’m hearing right now is that even if you might want it, you’re not in a place that feels safe. And that makes sense to me. So we’re just not gonna do anything until that changes, okay?”

Eyes still cast downward, your lips twist into a sardonic little smile. 

“I feel like I’m talking to my therapist.”

He laughs with a single breath. 

“I really hope your therapist doesn’t speak to you like I do. The ethics there would be highly questionable.”

The joke refreshes your courage and you look back up at him, smile still edged with humor but mostly unspoken gratitude. 

The half-smile on Spencer’s face, however, is fading steadily as he studies you in flickering passes. Like there’s something still on his mind. You were hoping for a subtle invitation back into his arms, but the space between you remains—infused now with a tension as it becomes increasingly obvious. 

“Also… this trip we’re going on. I feel like I should say this—I don’t know if it was even on your mind, but… I don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex just because of the timing. Me inviting you on a last-minute trip to an isolated cabin—it’s not a master plan to get you to sleep with me again, I promise. I really just wanted us to be alone. Not—not that kind of alone—I mean, we’ll be alone, but it doesn’t have to be like that. I was just thinking about how nice it was for us to get those three nights together, you know, and the whole weekend too, and with my job, that’s not always going to happen, so it just seemed like a good opportunity—”

“Spencer,” you laugh, letting the tension snap like a rubber band as you go to him, slinging your arms over his shoulders, delighted to be the one doing the interrupting and not the flustered rambling, for a change. “I know you don’t have an ulterior motive. As for what kind of alone we’re going to be… we’ll figure that out, okay? Don’t worry about me. I don’t feel pressured by you. I never have. If anything, I’m the one who pressures you for sex.”

You’ve got him smiling once more, as his hands find your waist and his gaze flips from your mouth to your eyes and back again. It goes very subtly mischievous in a way you don’t quite trust, but he’s dipping his head to kiss you, and something tells you it’s going to be a good one, so when your nose bumps against his, and you can feel his breath on your lips, you’re not at all prepared for him to speak. 

“Begging is not the same as pressuring, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing you so thoroughly you don’t even have time to be properly affronted. The offended gasp gets stuck in your throat, and melts into a tiny huff as it turns out the kiss is a very good one. You can’t think hard enough to be offended. Not even when he chuckles against you. 

“That’s not fair,” you mumble when he allows you a second to breathe. He hums, satisfying himself with kisses to your cheek and playing along. 

“What’s not fair?” 

“You… I was supposed to have the upper hand in that situation! You were the nervous one for once!”

Another hum, buzzing against your lips this time. 

“You have to learn how to take the upper hand, angel. I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a big part of my job.”

Admittedly it’s hard to think when he talks like this, but you try. 

“So… you manipulate me? That’s not very romantic.”

He laughs quietly again. 

“No. I do not manipulate you.”

“You’re just a control freak,” you tease. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, immediately, still soft-spoken as he pulls back to carefully search your eyes. “Does that bother you?”

You search hands and knees for a crumb of outrage, for a hint of any of that strong feminist theory you’ve instilled into your brain over so many years. 

There’s nothing to be found. 

“No,” you admit, dejectedly, hanging your head as much as he’ll allow. “Should it?”

“Only if you don’t like it. When I take the upper hand like that, I’m really just… posing a yes or no question. So far, you lean towards saying yes. You let me win. But you don’t have to.”

“What happens if I… if I don’t let you win?”

He angles his head, coaxing you to look in his eyes once more. A hand comes up to swipe a dot of mascara from under your brow. He’s looking at you so serenely, like none of this is at all complicated. 

“Whatever you want. I wouldn’t be the one making the rules anymore.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You laugh nervously. 

“That’s a lot of pressure. What if… I want you to keep making the rules? For forever?”

He kisses you again, insistently enough you have to tilt your head back. When he answers, it’s low, a promise, and pressed right against your waiting mouth. 

“Then I will.”

You loose a tremulous breath from your parted lips and you know he can feel it. He can feel how you’re clinging to his shirt, pressing yourself closer, how your skin has warmed and your breaths have hastened, he can probably taste how much you want him, how you’re already thinking about giving it all up for him—

And maybe that’s why he laughs dryly into your mouth before pulling away. 

Because he’s a good boyfriend. 

Spencer knits his brow and clears his throat as his hand slides down your arm, eyes narrowed like he’s wondering how things escalated so quickly. You certainly are. 

Suddenly he’s back to the nerd you met in a coffee shop all those months ago, and you like him like this, too. “So… dinner?” 

“Mhm. Yeah. We should… we should definitely eat. What do you wanna eat?”

You don’t miss the quick once over he gives you. Or the way his throat bobs once he tears his eyes away. 

“Um… how does Indian sound?”

You swear you don’t know how it happened. 

Everything was going fine—there was food on the coffee table, a show on the TV. Spencer made tea. It was wholesome. 

And then, somewhere between setting the plastic takeout bag down and actually opening it, you ended up like this. Kneeling next to him on the couch, one hand braced on his thigh, the other tangled in his hair as you kiss slow. Like this could actually be leading somewhere. 

“We should stop,” he reminds you, even as his hand traverses up your leg. You lean further into him—he has to tip his head back to meet your lips. 

“We’re kissing. It’s nothing.”

“You were—” kiss. “Just telling me—” kiss. “That you don’t want this right now.”

Deep kiss. The grip he has on your hip does not agree with his words. 

“This is just kissing. Kissing isn’t sex.”

Even as you’re saying it, you’re throwing your leg over his lap, landing in a straddle. 

“No,” he groans as if pained, throwing his head onto the back of the couch and depriving you of his mouth. “Baby. You have to get off. We can’t do this.”

“My bathroom—we could—it doesn’t share a wall with his apartment, we could go in there and turn on the shower and we could be really quiet—”

Suddenly there’s a hand over your mouth. It’s not yours. 

“Please stop before I say yes.”

You pull his hand away, fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“You should. You should say yes. It’s a good idea, I know he wouldn’t be able to hear us over the shower—”

“It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that you asked me to turn you down not even an hour ago, no matter what you say, and I said I would.” He takes a shuddering deep breath. “And… I’m going to. I’m saying no.”

“No,” you whine, head falling to his shoulder, because you know he’ll keep his promise. He cups the back of your head—a kind, sympathetic gesture, which does nothing to alleviate the heat of your blood or the ache between your legs. You pout into his neck. “This is terrible. I might not survive.”

“I think you will.”

“Maybe if I enter a coma.”

He laughs and strokes your thigh. 

“There are worse things than sexual frustration.”

“Not right now. This is the worst thing I can imagine.”

“I’m so sorry. You poor thing.”

You pull back to face him, hands on his shoulders. 

“Oh my god. Don’t act like it’s not bothering you.”

“I’m not bothered.”

“I know that’s not true. You know how I can tell?”

The slightest adjustment of your hips draws attention to exactly what you mean. Spencer goes completely deadpan. 

“Stop,” he orders in monotone, and you laugh even you allow yourself to be tossed back onto the couch because you’ve successfully flustered him again. He puts a throw pillow over his lap and leans forward, hiding his blush beneath perfect hands with a tortured groan. “You’re terrible.”

The couch attempts to suck you in as you wriggle back from a lying position, propping yourself up on your elbows and grinning at him. 

“I did it,” you gloat. 

He angles his head toward you, revealing half a pretty face, still dusted red but now with all the markings of inquisition. 

“You did what?”

“I took the upper hand.”

Those dark eyes narrow and before you can think to retract your legs he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling them over his pillow and leaving you flat on your back once more. Again you giggle. 

“You took nothing,” he asserts, but you’re not bothered—still smiling as you accept your new position and toss your arms above your head casually. 

“Somebody’s a sore loser.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your curry.”

“Sorry, I’m full. From, you know, the taste of victory.”

He exhales a dry chuckle, leaning forward to finally retrieve the containers of food. 

“I can’t believe I ever let you call me a nerd.”

The rest of the evening remains PG. Conversation flows and trickles comfortably over dinner on the couch, and afterwards, he suggests a documentary. From the outside, it might not look like much—but to you, with your head on his chest as the TV casts its flickering, ghostly light over the room, with the beating of his heart against your ear and his breath against the top of your head, it’s everything. Six months ago you didn’t know what it was to exist so comfortably around another person like this. Now, though he feels familiar and safe, you don’t take it for granted. The novelty of something so simple is not lost on you, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world as your eyes begin to flutter. You’re lucky to have someone you feel completely safe with. 

Spencer murmurs your name like a question.  It buzzes against your ear. You hum in response. 

His thumb fans lines over your shoulder blade. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Mhm.”

“The other night… we didn’t really get a chance to—to debrief, afterwards. Which is fine, you were tired, it was late. But then the next morning I had to go, and everything with your neighbor happened, and we talked about that a little bit, but… but earlier, it sounded like maybe you… I don’t know. Maybe you weren’t feeling good about how it happened?”

“Spencer, I told you I don’t regret it,” you remind him, pushing up from his chest to look him in the eye. His hand slides down your back. 

“I know… I just wanted to give you another chance to talk about it. In case anything was on your mind.” He frets over your hair, an invisible speck on your skin. Like he’s nervous. “And I want to make sure you’re feeling okay about how it went. I know what happened the next day was an unfortunate addendum, and I’m sorry about that. As soon as you give me permission, I will have him arrested. But I don’t want that to overshadow your experience.”

“It’s… not,” you breathe, fiddling with a button on Spencer’s shirt. 

“So how did you feel about it? Barring anything external?”

“Good.”

Spencer strokes your jaw with a knuckle, gently admonishing. 

“Don’t just say that. Think about it.”

“I have,” you assure him immediately, cheeks warming as you realize just how swiftly you’d replied. 

What a lovely button. Mother-of-pearl. The shirt is a pale lilac. It looks good on him. One of your favorites, actually. 

Spencer lets you pick at it. He would probably let you pull the button off, tear every stitch on the shirt with a seam-ripper if it helped to soothe your nerves. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to go into explicit detail. I know it still feels weird to talk about. But it’s something we do have to talk about.”

“I know. And I would bring it up if something didn’t feel right. But it… was…” you chew your lip as you think of a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound too mushy-gushy. “Overwhelmingly… a very positive experience.”

“You sound like Yelp review,” Spencer says through a smile. You attempt to smother the continual heat of your embarrassment against his shirt. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, more intimately than anyone ever has before. And you’re still shy about acknowledging that fact. 

“Shut up. Say something nice back.”

With a typically gentle hand, he pushes hair away from your ear. 

“I…” he begins meaningfully, taking a moment to sweep your hair over your back. “Feel incredibly grateful that you trusted me to take care of you. I know that’s big for you, and I know it can be a really scary thing. Mostly I’m happy you’re happy. And that I didn’t mess up irredeemably.”

“What would you have messed up?” You laugh, retreating from your shelter against his chest to knit your brow. 

He makes a face in the half-dark like he shouldn’t have said it. 

“Uh… that… veers into explicit detail… and possibly too much honesty.”

You laugh again and adjust to frame his sheepish smile between your hands. 

“I see. You have to keep your mystique in tact.”

“I really don’t think it’s that much of a mystery.”

“Well, I’ll spare your ego.”

“Wow, thanks. For the first time in your life.”

You go in for a chaste, smiley kiss, which stays sweet and kind even as it melts into something stickier. 

It comes to a turning point and Spencer inhales deeply, gently angling his head away and shifting to check his watch. You collapse on his chest, catching your breath. 

“I should go.”

“No. I feel like you’re going away to war.”

“I’m going to Court House. Where I live.”

“What if I never see you again?”

“It’s twenty minutes away. So you could always just drive.”

You frown. 

“I hope you get trench foot.”

“You know seventy seven thousand soldiers died from trench foot in World War Two?”

“Obviously I did not know that.”

“Well, next time you should just say you want me to die. Up.”

He pats the back of your thigh and you push off of him, only after considering trying to hold him hostage for a split second. 

You hover by the couch like a ghost, watching with increasing anxiety as he gathers together the empty containers from your meal and throws them in the kitchen garbage before collecting his things. 

There is one thing—one potentially difficult thing you haven’t mentioned to him that seems to be a direct consequence of finally sleeping together. 

You’re clingy. 

Clingier than you’ve ever been. It didn’t seem possible to want to be around him more than you already had, but now when he’s gone you feel his absence like a vacuous hole by your side. Without his warmth, you’re always a little colder. A little less comfortable. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that you’re starting to get separation anxiety, so you won’t put it into so many words—but you think, as he turns, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a knowing look, that he understands. 

At the same time, you begin to close the space, meeting gently in the middle, toe to toe. You keep your hands behind your back, afraid that otherwise you’ll try and glom onto him like a barnacle on a ship’s hull. 

“There are some things I’d like to get done this week so I don’t have to worry about them during our trip. So I might not see you for a day or two.”

Dutifully you nod, though you’re slightly crushed. 

“That’s okay. We’re grownups.”

“I don’t know,” he tuts. “I’m worried I’m gonna start writing my name with your last on all my notebooks.”

That stupid, stupid charm. 

“Mm… I’m kinda out of your league,” you grin. 

Spencer’s smile wanes slowly, but his eyes remain soft and aglow as they explore your face as reverently as his hands would. When he speaks, it’s in an honest, borderline whisper. “I’m acutely aware.”

Slowly his head dips, and your eyes flutter shut. A sweet, lingering kiss lands on your cheek. Then he’s pulling back. 

“That’s it?” You can’t help but ask, peering up at him and barely concealing a frown. 

He smiles that lovely smile, but by this point you’re attuned enough to his facial expressions to recognize the subtle heat playing just beneath the surface of those golden-oak eyes. 

“What? Did I give you the impression that I put out?”

“It’s just a kiss.”

That teasing edge becomes ever so slightly sharper as he regards you, head tilting. 

“Mhm. And the last time you said that—was it before or after you mounted me?”

You shoo him away pretty quickly after that—partly for discipline, and partly because the sooner he’s gone, the sooner you’ll go to sleep, and the sooner it will be tomorrow. 

And this trip can’t come soon enough, because you’re pretty sure you know exactly what kind of alone you’d like to be with Spencer Reid.

[sc0tters]

My Love, My Life | Jack Hughes

summary: you find out that you are pregnant and when Jack is less than impressed it caused the start of your pregnancy to be a little bit rocky.

request: yes/no

warnings: partially unwanted pregnancy, allusions to sex, swearing.

word count: 4.07k

authors note: when I rewatched Mama Mia I heard the song my love, my life and I instantly knew it had to be the title of a pregnancy imagine. I really did enjoy writing this though so if you guys want to see this possibly become a series, let me know!

It was the longest three minutes of your life.

Jack had gone out on the boat with his friends and brothers giving you what felt like the perfect window of opportunity. All you had to do was pee on that stick and wait for the results.

You knew that you’d have to book and appointment with your gynecologist, not because you were pregnant but because your irregular period that decided it didn’t want to show up for three months. Honestly you thought you were simply one of gods favourites, but as your boobs began to grow tender and keeping any food down before ten a.m. became virtually impossible you began to worry.

Ellen had bought you those tests, not because she wanted you to push yourself into having kids but after you shared your worries with her she suggested you took the test and even offered to buy them for you “you okay in there sweetie?” Ellen asked as she was stood on the other side of the door.

The idea of taking this test alone was simply far too daunting for your little heart to handle thus you asked for her company “I’m good,” you opened the door as you waited for your timer to go off.

She was like the extra mother you never had, your own mother was still in your life but she didn’t get you the way Ellen did. You had laughed, you had cried, and you even got drunk on homemade frozen margaritas with Ellen and that was whilst you and Jack were still friends.

Just as the saying goes mothers do truly know best and Jack’s had predicted that you two would end up married and in love one day. She got the in love part right but despite the four years of dating Jack and being with him through all of the highs and lows of his career there still wasn’t a ring on your finger.

That’s not to say that you didn’t mind though because you both agreed you were too young “it’s time,” the timer derailed your thoughts as both of your heads snapped to the line of four tests.

Both of you walked over to the different branded tests that all said the same thing.

Pregnant

Pregnant

Pregnant

Pregnant

You didn’t want to admit it but you knew exactly when you fell pregnant. The final game of the season was against the Capitals and the moment Jack got home he was met with the sight of you in a new red lingerie that you kept hidden by his jersey. That night Jack didn’t have any condoms and you were too horny to care, apparently the morning after pill did not do it’s job.

As Ellen let out a gasp you could do nothing but cry “oh honey!” She didn’t give you a moment to let a full sob out before she pulled you into a hug.

Her hand went into your hair as she attempted to soothe you “I’m not ready to be a mom!” Your eyes went wide at the realisation, you were barely out of college and were now meant to be the mother of a child.

You were grateful that you asked Ellen to be there as she pushed your worries to the side “if you don’t want this you don’t have to keep it.” She reminded you of the different options you had “but if you do then you will not go through it alone.” Her hand went to your cheek to wipe away your tears “I promise,” she kissed your head as you cried on her shoulder.

“We’re home!” Jack called out as they walked back into the house.

Your head shot up as your eyes went wide “go wash your face and I’ll distract them for a bit,” Ellen offered as she squeezed your shoulder quickly letting you get a moment to yourself.

You faced the mirror as you looked at your red cheeks “hi buddy,” you sniffled as you looked down to your stomach “I’m your momma,” you surprisingly didn’t feel weird as you introduced yourself to your baby.

It felt natural as you let your hand cup your stomach as you smiled, that moment showed you that there was love in your heart for this baby, for your baby.

Jack remained oblivious to what had happened as you and Ellen collectively avoided the topic and anything that remotely related to it. Sure he thought that you were a little bit more quiet than usual but he just wrote that down to you being tired after struggling to sleep last night.

The dreaded conversation though eventually had to come as you were back in your bedroom “babe where is your aloe gel?” Jack called out as he was trying to cope with the sun burn that had formed on his back.

You were so caught up washing your face as you let your mind lapse “my drawer of the bedside table.” You explained as your eyes went wide the moment you had said it.

Panic ran through your system as you stopped what you were doing to run back into the bedroom “wh-what is this?” Jack asked as he picked up one of the tests that he was faced with when he opened the drawer.

Yes you thought it was best to hide them in there “answer my question dammit!” He grew frustrated with your silence.

Tears from earlier came back as a lump formed in your throat “we’re having a baby,” you cried as you used the back of your hand to wipe your now snotty nose.

Jack simply didn’t share your emotions “no,” he shook his head as he took a step back “I don’t want it.” He added as it caused you to scoff.

His response frustrated you “this is a baby Jack not a new shirt you don’t like.” You spoke in a duh tone as you crossed your arms.

The hockey player pressed his lips into a fine line “this is not happening,” he announced as he wanted to just go back in time and not have this conversation.

Unfortunately for him there was no other choice that he had “look I get that you’re not happy about this baby-” raked your fingers through your hair “you’re asking me to give up the prime of my career for some kid?” The venom in his voice was a punch to the gut as you chewed at the inside of your cheek.

It made you see him in a whole different light “this isn’t some kid Jack it’s our kid.” Your voice was soft as your lip began to quiver “I’m not asking you to give up your career for them either.” You added as your nose scrunched not believing that you actually had to say that.

You were left in shock as the boy grabbed his phone and charger like he was going to leave “where are you going?” You two had a rule to never go to bed angry and it truly looked like Jack was going to break that “I’m going to spend the night in Luke’s room.” He explained as he walked out of the room before you could say anything else.

When the door slammed shut you finally got the chance to drop to your knees as sobs left your mouth. Somehow in this moment you felt so alone even though you had this baby with you “I’m doing this for you,” you mumbled as you wiped your eyes before you went to your laptop.

Sure it hurt as you found the next flight back to New Jersey but you knew you had to do it.

Jack didn’t want this baby and as you both had different feelings about it you knew this could very well mean the end of your relationship. With your luck it meant there was a flight back to Newark in three hours, so you were quick to pack your suitcase as you knew you had to hurry if you wanted to make that flight. Since everyone was asleep it meant you also had the chance to leave without being noticed “y/n?” Luke asked as he saw you bringing down your suitcase.

The youngest Hughes boy often got midnight snacks as he stayed up into the early hours of the morning “hi Luke,” you sighed sending the boy a soft smile as he took your luggage from you to walk it down the stairs “heard you and Jack,” Luke confessed breaking your heart in the process.

Years ago when you first fought Luke had heard it all and asked you if you’d still be friends with him even if you and Jack broke up “we just need some time apart,” you explained as you began to feel so drained from all of the crying that you had done.

Luke wrapped his arms around you as he didn’t know if he would see you again “for what it’s worth I’d be grateful to be this little one’s uncle.” His voice was soothing as it made you smile “how are you so young?” You asked yourself as he was so sweet and caring.

“Just making sure you stay safe.”

The next morning Jack and Ellen each woke up to a message from you.

y/n: hey mama Hughes! Sorry for the abrupt goodbye but Jack didn’t take the news too well so I came home. Will keep you updated on this little baby!

doll 🩷: I’m not going to force this baby on you but I’ve made my mind up and I want to have it, I’d like you to be there but if not. I won’t blame you x

Ellen didn’t usually think she was a negative person. Truly she thought she was a good gentle soul, yet the thoughts she had as she sent her middle son daggers in the form of glared made her reconsider her opinion of herself. Sure this wasn’t the most ideal time for them to bring a baby into the world but the love the couple had for each other was so obvious that it was almost painful. When you two were wrapped in each others arms whispering sweet nothings into each others ears was enough to make anyone sick in the best way possible “good morning Luke,” Jim greeted his son who seemed to be sharing the same reaction to his older brother as his mom had.

Despite the one cup of coffee that barely had time to settle in his system Quinn could tell that something was off “what stupid thing did he do now?” The Canucks player asked as he furrowed his eyebrows sending his youngest brother a confused glance.

Jacks ears perked up as he looked up from his phone “I didn’t do anything stupid,” he scoffed as he crossed his arms growing defensive.

Both Ellen and Luke wanted to hit him as he said that “you sure about that?” The blonde hadn’t used her strict tone on her boys in years and it truly instilled fear in her three sons.

At that moment everything clicked for Jack “Kyoto!” He called out as he got up. The Hughes brothers had given that title to moment when they needed their brothers to drop everything because one of them had something to say “really?” Luke groaned as Quinn followed the younger boy out “you know the rules.” The trio of boys soon left their parents as they walked outside to have their conversation.

Jim sipped his coffee as curiosity got the best of him “what do you think they are talking about?” He asked as he turned his attention to his wife “got a few ideas,” Ellen shrugged wanting to text you as she hoped you got home safe.

Quinn sat at the outside table as he wanted to desperately know what was going on with his brother “can someone please fill me in?” He asked as he looked between his two younger siblings.

When Jack remained silent Luke took it upon himself to reveal what happened “y/n left last night because Jack learnt that she’s pregnant-” Luke couldn’t blurt out all that he wanted to as Jack reached out to hit him “dude!”

The air around the three boys was still thick “always thought you’d have kids first.” Quinn confessed as he knew how serious you and Jack were early on in your relationship.

You wished that Jack was sat next to you in that doctors office as you realised that the OB had a space open in the morning. Funnily enough he would have preferred being sat there right now over being sat with his brothers “you want to tell him what you told her though?” Luke spat as he sent Jack a harsh glare.

The Devils player grew defensive “you eavesdropping or some shit?” Jack scoffed as he matched his brothers strong look.

Just like always Quinn had to intervene “let’s just breathe and then talk like adults.” He proposed as he pulled Luke’s chair closer to him so that it was out of Jacks grasp.

Luke sighed as he nodded “why did you say that to her?” He didn’t even mention the reasoning that Jack used to make sure his brother knew what was going on.

Jack picked at his nails as he didn’t want to look at anyone “didn’t want to screw up at being a dad.” The forward also didn’t want to disappoint his child in life but more importantly he didn’t want to be a shitty partner to you. Every road trip the team took, every late night training session or game all added up and Jack could see how it screwed with some of the older guys who had kids.

“Bullshit,”

The trio of boys whipped their heads around to see that Ellen and Jim were stood at the porch door. Ellen actually stomped over to her middle child “every parent screws up,” she pointed out as she couldn’t count how many times either her or Jim had done the wrong thing when it came to parenting those boys “but you deal with it with your partner!” The girl scoffed as she couldn’t actually believe that Jack could act in such a negative way that it drove you to leave in the middle of the night without a peep.

Jack was honestly shitting himself as his mom stood over him “now you’ve got a girlfriend with a heart of gold currently sat terrified in New Jersey as she’s all alone?” Ellen scoffed not realising that the forward furrowed his eyebrows “truly thought I raised you better than that.” Her anger had turned into disappointment as she couldn’t imagine the stress that you could have been going through, especially after that had happened in terms of the stressful build up to taking that test.

When he eventually spoke up it was quite “she’s terrified?” He asked as his chest began to grow heavy because this was the first time since he had heard the news that the thought of you and now you felt about it all.

Sure it was selfish but Jack found himself so caught up in his own stream of doubts that he hadn’t let the two other parties involved in the matter take up any space in his mind “she’s just found out that she’s pregnant and her boyfriend isn’t with her.” Ellen’s voice was comforting as Jack felt tears well in his eyes.

He didn’t often feel this extreme emotions but the thought of you, the woman he centred his entire world around, feeling all of that pain due to his actions made him feel sick “how do I fix it?” Given that Jack was of college boy age, romance wasn’t something he ever truly mastered and besides it wasn’t like he needed to when you looked at him like he was the only guy in the world.

The blonde felt her heart soar as her speech obviously knocked some sense into him “go talk to her.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The Hughes family watch on as the middle child got up and made his way back inside so he could go back home, back to you.

From the moment you got back inside you couldn’t help but listen to the video of the heart beat as you stared at the pictures from the ultrasound. Despite the fact that, the house felt foreign as Nico let you stay at his whilst he was still on holiday after you called him in tears you were now feeling content. The Swiss man first took you under his wing when he realised that you were Jacks girlfriend because you so clearly needed “a bit of mental relief.”

Your hand clutched at your stomach “you are going to be my little darling when I finally get to meet you.” You confessed as you didn’t bother introducing yourself for the second time “don’t be fooled by the smell of this place we don’t live here.” You laughed to yourself “but I should really ask uncle Nico where he gets his candles from.”

Jack had to admit that he was surprised when he came back to your apartment and none of the lights were on. At first he blamed it on your poor sleeping schedule and maybe you were just taking a nap. But when the apartment began to not look lived in, plates hadn’t moved from the clean dishwasher, the pillows on the couch were still perfectly fluffed the alarm bells began to ring as Jack realised that something was well and truly off.

My Love x: where the fuck are you

My Love x: this isn’t a joke

My Love x: I’m back in Jersey

My Love x: just let me know that you’re safe please

A sigh of relief left your lips as you hoped that it meant things would be better with Jack. That he’d change his mind but you had to make sure it was what he really did want.

doll 🩷: I’m safe but I don’t want to see you for the next week.

doll 🩷: you need to make sure that what you decide is right for you

doll 🩷: but until then thought you would wanna see this.

*one video attached*

It was the video of the babies heart beat. Jack let out a laugh at the end when your voice came into it “they’re my strong little buddy,” you gasped deciding that buddy was the perfect nickname for your precious little baby.

Jack hadn’t noticed that he was crying until the tear drops began to hit his phone. At first he was crying because he realised how much he must have hurt you but then it morphed into him crying because he was scared. The idea of bringing a child into this world made him feel nervous, not the soft nerves you get thinking about the Stanley cup. These were the nerves you get when you think about facing your fears. Jack knew you’d be the best mom a child could ask for, he saw the way his teammates kids eyes lit up whenever they saw you and how the grin would spread across your lips when they wanted your attention. After this one game you came down with a baby on your hip and you were so caught up telling the child this whole story that you didn’t notice Jack staring at you. In that moment Jack honestly wanted to go home and get a few babies inside of you. His self restraint was truly tested that day when you smiled and walked over to him with the baby still in your hand “this little ones momma had to go to the bathroom.” You explained as you thought he was looking at you weirdly because you were just holding a child.

That memory replayed in Jacks mind as his thumb danced over a picture frame. The image it held was one of the two of you on the boat at the lake house as you had fallen asleep and Jack was so caught up playing with your hair that he didn’t notice when Quinn captured the picture.

This next week was awful for both of you. Neither one really got much sleep as you both just lay on your beds thinking about what the other was doing. You had moved out of Nicos place and in with a friend just so that it meant you would have company when the nights grew dark.

One thing you seemed to be craving the entire week was a red velvet cupcake. There was one place in New Jersey that made a cupcake above them all so on the sixth day of this week that was meant to be radio silence between you and Jack, you finally caved and went to get the sweet treat.

What you didn’t expect though was that Jack would he walking out with an order of his own. He had gone to eat his feelings as he loved their chocolate cake “hi,” Jack gasped as he got the words out.

You smiled as you looked at him “hi baby,” you didn’t even have to wait for a second before Jack pulled you into a hug “I’m so sorry doll,” he blurted out causing tears to form in your eyes for what felt like the a millionth time this week.

It broke your heart when you looking up to see he was crying too “didn’t mean to hurt you like that.” He added as he brought his hand up to cup your cheek.

The gesture was soft as he wipe the tear away from under your eye “you wanna come with me to grab my stuff?” You asked as your hand went on top of his “I know I said I’d give you a week but I can’t sleep in a room without you for another-” your ramble was cut off when Jacks lips captured yours in a kiss.

There was no denying how much you had missed him, and the pregnancy brain was causing you to miss more than just his company “wanna take you home,” Jack mumbled as he rested his forehead against yours.

A giggle left your lips “what are you waiting for then?” You playfully asked as you sent him a smile.

You had told yourself that you could have handled this alone, but deep down you knew you were going home with the man of your dreams who you needed alongside you in this team.

Six months later.

Jack watched in awe as you slept “you got your mama’s eyes my love.” Your daughter cooed as she looked up at her father totally unaware of what he was saying to her.

Since you shut your eyes fifteen minutes ago Jack had just been bouncing her in his arms as he moved around the room “just be grateful you don’t have her toes cause those aren’t as pretty as the rest of her.” He smiled as a random baby noise erupted from her little body.

You scoffed as you had slowly been waking up for the last minute and a half “there is nothing wrong with my feet.” You mumbled as you turned to face them.

The hockey player laughed “you sure about that?” He shot back but quickly went quiet as you sent him a glare.

Your daughter looked at you like you were a foreign sight when Jack sat next to you on the bed “she’s gonna be a daddy’s girl.” You mumbled as you could see the way she already had Jack wrapped around her finger.

He blushed at the comment “as long as my first girl doesn’t get neglected.” The boy pointed out as he hooked his fingers under your jaw so he could peck your lips “I didn’t go through seven hours of labour just to get a peck Hughes.” You always called him Hughes when he was in trouble.

But this time it just made him laugh “can’t use that one for much longer,” he pointed out as he motioned to the engagement ring on your finger.

“I’ll use it until she’s ready to get married.” You shot back as he let you kiss him this time on a deeper level before his thought pulled him away.

“Married… she’s never getting married!”

[st0rmyskies]

SETTING: HSH/LMTCOY VERSE.

CIRCUMSTANCES: NOT IN CRISIS/BASELINE.

QUESTION: WHAT ARE THEIR PERSONAL HYGIENE PRACTICES? AND WHICH PAIR OF LINKS HAVE THE MOST INCONGRUENT STANDARDS.

Have you truly prepared yourself for these answers, friend?

The general rule is that each of the boys has the sense to shower after a good workout or getting gross in some other way, no matter what their daily hygiene routine is otherwise. Under the cut because I had a TON to say about this apparently. I never even knew.

Time - He's a morning shower guy. He needs it to wake up and, since he likes to run or work out in the mornings, it makes for efficient timing. Plus let's be real, he's not getting the volume in those bangs unless he applies it in the morning, every morning. He prefers to be clean-shaven, making that therefore a daily duty. He used to use a combination shampoo and conditioner before Warriors got to him, and even if his hair is softer now he sure as hell isn't going to admit that to anyone. If he has a particularly eventful day at work, he'll have an evening shower as soon as he gets home, too--very hot and very, very thorough, followed by an aspirin nightcap.

Twilight - He's such a night-showerer. I attribute it to being raised on a farm. He gets up, he gets shit done, in fact he's getting shit done the whole day long so that by the time he's through Twi is ready for a hearty meal, some time to shoot the shit with his friends, and a hot shower before bed. He's not too fussed about making sure his stubble is shaved down every day, although for an event or something he's sure to be clean-shaven. Doesn't believe in conditioner. Twi's toxic trait is using the same towel for a week or more.

Wild - Showers occur daily, although at random times of the day. Maybe it's right after breakfast. Maybe he has to prep something for dinner, so he hops in sometime in the afternoon. Shaving occurs when he feels like it, although his facial fuzz is pretty sparse so it never matters much. His real barrier to entry is the length of his hair and the time it takes to dry it. Thus, hair washing is a once- to twice-weekly event at most. You know he uses Mane n' Tail shampoo, and he swears by conditioner, mainly because it helps him comb through all the tangles. He doesn't dry his hair, just plops it on top of his head in a towel or braids it damp to keep it out of his way. You always know it was a wash day because there's a six to eight-inch ring of dampness outside of the shower curtain. Hope none of the other boys were keeping a dry towel in there for any reason.

Champion - Showers after every work-out, so at least once but often twice a day, morning and afternoon. His showers are thorough but short: quick shave once a day every day, shampoo, soap up, rinse all at once. He's in an out of the shower in six minutes flat. He washes his hair EVERY time and towels it dry (RIP those split ends). Fastidious but utilitarian, Champion isn't one for conditioner or aftershave. He also didn't start using antiperspirant until he was in the Guard and saw that everyone else used it.

Warriors - There are two types of showers for this man. The first is the daily affair, usually taken as soon as he wakes up. He starts by warming the water while brushing his teeth (recharging electric toothbrush only) and inspecting his brows, then washing his face with a gentle cleanser containing salicylic acid (the only boy on the list so far who does), followed by a thorough shampoo and conditioning (this is the longest part of the routine). While the conditioner sets he takes a moment to inspect his nails and attend to any cuticle mishaps, then there's a rich lathering of shaving foam applied to his face, his underarms, maybe his legs if he needs it that day. (Before you ask: the hardwood floors get addressed by a trusted professional, licensed and bonded). He has a natural sponge for washing and exfoliation. Once all that's done, he has specific microfiber twist-towels for his hair (I hc he has natural waves or loose curls) and his towels are white and washed in unscented detergent. The rest of his routine has to be attended to in his room; he's already been in the bathroom well over the prescribed 20 minutes per shower, according to Legend. His other type of shower is the Spa Night affair, and that's more of a bath situation.

Sky - Ohhh Sky darling. I love him so, and his hygiene practices are adequate, but somewhat questionable in my book. He's a morning showerer, definitely needs that wake-up rinse, and the bathroom is his stop immediately after chugging orange juice at the fridge each morning. (Yes, right out of the carton. Yes, his name's on it.) He's an electric razor guy because it's quick. He always gets in the shower before the water is warm enough because he's impatient in the mornings, and he subsequently gets burned when it gets too hot and has to stand outside the spray doing that quick-reach-for-the-handles-and-shrink-back thing until it's cool enough to resume. My biggest hangup is that he uses a combination shampoo-conditioner-body wash product. Because it's quick. His hair is fluffy because it's probably dry as shit. The other thing about Sky is that he never EVER remembers to lock the bathroom door, so whenever he's in the shower it's a free-for-all if anyone else wants to come in and brush their teeth or whatever.

Legend - In the beginning, when he was living with Hyrule in that first apartment, Legend wasn't a daily showerer. He was pretty fucking depressed, so it ended up being every third or fourth day, at least until he came around to realizing "Hey, this kills some time." He's another random-time-of-day showerer, and sometimes it's an overnight affair if he's out working late with Ravio (like, 2-4am). He'll use cheap drugstore shampoo and body wash, and on occasion will shamelessly use some of War's expensive bullshit conditioner for a special occasion. One of the few boys to use a hair dryer regularly. His toxic trait is putting his hat back on before his hair is completely dry, making the hair at the top of his head kind of stringy and limp most times.

Hyrule - Listen. Med school makes you a very versatile showerer. Hyrule has literally no preference for taking a morning or an evening shower anymore. Whenever he's awake enough and has enough time to spare is when he does it. He functions best with nighttime showers because it gives him ample time in the mornings to have his coffee and a slow wake-up. Rulie's hair is naturally curly, so his haircare routine is different from most. He actually doesn't use shampoo at all. He conditions every day, sometimes two rounds if he makes his little scalp scrub with brown sugar. He does a quick blind shower-shave and prefers a loofah. His toxic trait used to be towel-drying his hair until Warriors made him swear to never do it again. Now he wisely lets it air dry.

Four - Mister Nevernude showers before dinner since his work can get him fairly messy. At the very least, soldering leaves an awful smell in your hair. He's another user of cheap drugstore shampoo, he's not fond of conditioner, and is a bar-of-soap kind of guy. He used to take lightning-fast showers in the beginning until he really settled in to the house, and now he's in there for a more reasonable 10 minutes or so. He goes in fully clothed, he comes out fully clothed. Like Twilight, he unfortunately uses the same towel all week. He only has one, really, and just throws it in the laundry together with the rest of his clothing.

Wind - He is, unfortunately, not a daily showerer. He might go every other or even every third day, depending. That's only if he's shut in his room for a day or three, though. There's enough Axe body spray to make up for those days, at least in his mind. If he's going out, he has the sense to wash. He prefers coconut-scented products, uses a combination shampoo/conditioner product, and rarely remembers to replenish his body wash at the store so commonly chooses from some of his roommate's. He doesn't shave religiously but his facial fuzz is still fine and blonde, so it's not the worst.

[jedi-enthusiast]

Yk one thing I barely see talked abt is the fact that Mace Windu's lineage and thus legacy is one of the longest Order 66 surviving ones in Star Wars WHO STAYED TRUE TO THE JEDI ORDER'S PRINCIPLES.

Like damn, Mace rly managed to establish a liniage of highly competent and compasionate Jedi. The Shatterpoint Lineage either outlasted or survived for nearly as long as the Disaster Liniage who pretty obviously stopped truly representing Jedi with Obi-Wan (only rly returninh to the true jedi way with Luke if ya see him as part of that lineage)

Like- who do we have in the Shatterpoint lineage ?

-Master of the Jedi Order , died trying to save the galaxy from the Sith

-Former council member, died saving her padawan from her brainwashed men

-Rebel Jedi training a student despite everything that went down , died saving his padawan & loved ones from a giant explosion

-THE GUY LITTERALY ABLE TO GET THE CHANCE TO FORCE TIME-TRAVEL WHO SEND HIMSELF INTO EXILE TO PROTECT THOSE HE LOVES & THE GALAXY

And who do we have in the Disaster Lineage :

-Guy with questionable methods who did his best

-OBI-WAN who rly doesn't need any explanation (who's also the last true Jedi with expection of Luke (if you counf him) to come out of this lineage)

-a genocial manbaby with an alergy for any sort of moral code or basic logic

-a pick me shitting on her own adoptive family, who isn't even a Jedi if we are being honest (sry Ahsoka, but your character to assasinated to a point where I just can't anymore)

And honestly ? It says a LOT that Mace Windu's lineage stands as pretty much last bastion of a true Jedi Lineage from the old Order.

Agreed 100%

And ngl I find it so funny that people constantly praise the Shatterpoint lineage- (Depa, Kanan, Ezra) -and then shit on Mace like, my dude, WHO DO YOU THINK TAUGHT DEPA AND PASSED ON THOSE VALUES TO HER AND THEREFORE HIS LINEAGE???

But no, Mace's lineage is by far the best imo---I love Obi-Wan and Luke and Yoda, but they get negative points for having not one but TWO genocidal fascists in the lineage- (Dooku and Anakin) -and then someone who thinks the Jedi brought on their own genocide- (Ahsoka) -and then someone who decided that the fate of the galaxy was less important than her feelings and probably kickstarted another war- (Sabine, apparently, since Felony shoe-horned her into the lineage).

Meanwhile the Shatterpoint lineage has the head of the Order who almost won the Clone Wars and stopped the Empire from being created, who only failed because he was betrayed- (Mace) -then an amazing and empathetic general who was literally so selfless that she sacrificed herself to save her padawan- (Depa) -then someone who fought against the Empire, successfully overcame his own issues to both train a padawan and then forgive those who he thought willingly murdered his family, and then sacrificed himself to save his family and give the Rebellion a leg up on the Empire for the Battle of Lothal- (Kanan) -and finally someone who let go of all his grief, rejected the Dark Side SEVERAL TIMES, and then sentenced himself to a life in exile to protect the galaxy from a genocidal fascist- (Ezra).

Like...there's really no competition here.

In the Imperial Era, Mace was probably sitting back as a Force-ghost, watching the Disaster lineage fuck up the galaxy and then have to fix it all over again, smugly staring down Obi-Wan and Yoda like-

Mace, smugly: Hm, did you know that today Kanan taught Ezra how to connect with animals? I'm so proud of them.

Obi-Wan, watching Anakin commit even more mass murder and Ahsoka blame the Jedi for Anakin's actions: Must be nice.

Yoda, staring down Dooku, who literally tried to take over the whole galaxy with a fascist regime: Yes. Nice, it must be.

[k1ngpin42]

pls can u write sub abby? thank u ❤️❤️❤️

ofc :) Here you go.

𝓢𝓾𝓫𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓐𝓫𝓫𝔂

Warnings: Oral (giving), public, fingering, restraints, thigh riding, scissoring, hickeys, v!brator 

Your relationship with Abby had been mostly smooth flowing. The heat when the two of you were in the same room would be enough to light an island on fire. However, you two would fight sometimes. Whether it was one too many early days, one too many late nights or one too many days of having fucked up things happen, the consequences would involve driving either one of you insane, an insanity that you would take out on each other. 

This fight was different though, it was the longest you had gone without speaking during your entire relationship thus far. You had done something risky on patrol to protect yourself and the others in your group and almost died in the process. Instead of Abby welcoming you back, saying “I’m so happy you’re not dead, my love.” She yelled at you, said some really mean things, the underlining message being that she didn’t trust you to go out without her. 

Not only this, but rather than simply not talking, Abby would constantly act petty and arrogant. She flirted with some guy in the gym in front of you, she took your favourite weapon on her assignment, she messed up the apartment, she started rumours about you, and whenever you tried to apologise or approach her about it, she’d ice you out. You didn’t understand why she was doing this. What the fuck was wrong with her? You risk YOUR life and SHE’S mad?? It just doesn’t fucking add up.

You decide to just ignore her for once and instead of heading back to your apartment, you go to the bar instead.

“I’ll get vodka please, just give me like 5 shots.” You explain to the bartender, a blonde guy on duty who you were somewhat friends with.

“You got the machine parts you owe me?” He teased. You stare at him blankly.

“Dude, I’m ordering 5 shots of vodka, today is not the day.” He sighs and grabs the glasses, pouring the clear liquid into each. 

You turn your head at the sound of that smooth voice you so love. It was Abby. Was she following you now?

You turn your head away before she can face you and instead you face the bartender, leaning in to him.

“Please go along with this for me.” You whisper. He looks confused but complies.

“Oh my god your hair is SO soft…” You say, playing with the top layers of his hair. He nods

“I got something that isn’t soft.” He says, and you need to physically restrain yourself from laughing.

It’s convincing enough for Abby, though, who disregards the conversation she’s having and walks over to you, sitting next to you at the bar. You ignore her, continuing to “flirt” with the man.

“You really gonna make me pay for these drinks?” You ask him with doe eyes. He shakes his head, leaning in to you.

“You can pay me in a different way.” Abby stands up harshly. 

“Back the fuck up, she’s with me.” Abby spits. He goes over to some other people and pours them drinks, not wanting to be involved further.

“The fuck I am, you haven’t spoken to me in nearly a month.” You tell her. She lets out a deep sigh followed by a desperate and crooked smile.

“I uh…guess I was kind of a dick, huh?”

“Abby…you made me feel like shit. In fact, leave me alone, I was having a nice conversation before you arrived.”

“Oh please, he’s not your type.” Abby says simply. You shove her, getting off your chair. 

“Like you’d fucking know.”

“He’s a man, baby, there’s no way he can please you like I can.”

“Hmm, well. I guess we’ll see.” You say with a confident smirk as you approach the blonde gentlemen again. Abbys face shifts into panic mode as she stumbles towards you, grabbing your wrist.

“Wait, wait, please…please I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Talk. Why the fuck have you been such a prick?”

“I don’t know. I guess it was easier than…admitting how fucking scared I was. You could have died and it pissed me off, I have a right to be mad when you do reckless things.”

“No. You would have done the same, don’t give me that bullshit.” You turn away again.

“Wait I- I love you.” She says. You feel heat warm your cheeks and neck, but you say nothing, you just dwell in this feeling for a while. Then, finally, you face her.

🎀𝓼𝓶𝓾𝓽🎀

“Come with me.” You direct her out into a hall and slam her against the wall with your full body strength. She lets out a surprised gasp and you immediately shove your tongue into her throat. It’s only several minutes later when you’re both gasping for air that you pull away.

“You were such an idiot Abby. I’m going to teach you to talk to me next time you have a problem.” She nods, eyes still on the floor. You get down on your knees and she anxiously looks around. You just smirk confidently. “There’s people….” Abby breathes out. You get back up to her height and tilt your head, unimpressed.

“Did I say you could talk?” She shakes her head and you return to your knees, pulling her pants down to her ankles. You suck on the soft part between her muscles on her large thighs, leaving a purple mark in its wake. 

“Got something to say to me?” You ask her, looking up into her blue eyes. She exhales, sharply. 

“I…ugh, fuck….I’m sorry.” 

“Oh yeah? How much?” You ask, pulling her underwear down too. She lets out a deep, shaky breath.

“I’m so-“

“Don’t tell me. Show me.” You command, inserting a finger roughly into her and then tonguing in between her folds. She lets out a moan which was unmistakably stifled. You stop and stand up again.

“The fuck was that?” You ask, harshly. She looks embarrassed. 

“I know I deserve this it’s just…there’s people around-“

“You’re right, you do deserve this, and in case I wasn’t clear before, if you don’t do what I say I’ll stop, and that will be a worse fate for you than any of these insignificant losers hearing how good I fuck you.” 

Abby is speechless at your words. In any regular context, she could pin you down with one hand and fuck you with the other, making you cum in only a matter of moments. This wasn’t anything like that. It was intimate in a way she almost didn’t recognise. The craving for each other’s touch was second to no other desire in the world, the possessiveness and clear control you had over her, the control she let you have, it was turning her on in ways she didn’t expect and that her brain couldn’t fully comprehend. And now you were licking, sucking and spitting on her cunt while that one fucking finger explores her tight hole. What a fucking tease, tasting her like it’s the best thing you’ll ever taste and all while only a few footsteps away from other WLFS.

“S’ good baby~ oh fuck…” She moans, her voice deep. You smile into her cunt, increasing the pace as you circle her clit with your tongue. It felt good to have her back, that girl made you feel crazy in the best way possible.

“Mmmph…mm so…close” You remove your tongue and add another finger, circling the upper walls of her cunt. She lets out a small whimper, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. Abby certainly wished you didn’t, cause you were definitely gonna tease her about it later.

“Aw, close already baby? Who knew you were so easy to please?” She rolls her eyes.

“Shut- Mmmm” She lets out a pornographic moan when you insert a third finger into her throbbing pussy. 

“You’re not in control of me today. In fact, you belong to me, say it.”

“N…o” Abby tried, her eyes rolling back along with her head. Your thrusting becomes harder.

“Don’t make me ask you again.”

“O-okay okay fuck…I belong to yo-” You put your tongue in her one final time and it’s all it takes to push her over the edge. 

“mmm!” She cums harshly, gripping onto your hair as she does so. Instead of letting her revel in the sensation and watching her face as she returns to reality, you keep the pressure on her, your pace relentless. 

“What are you d- oh my f— fuck stop st- mmmmm oh fuck-“ She cries, bucking her hips into you and consequently thrusting her cunt further into your mouth. Her back arches and her moans are getting louder now.

“OH F- fuck baby stop I’m so f-fucking sensitive-“ You didn’t give a fuck. The sounds she made when your tongue and your tongue alone explored and pleasured her in ways no one else could was like ecstasy and you could get drunk off the sound of it. 

“MMM PLEASE PL- mmm” Abby whined. You really did love her too, but she didn’t need to know that quite yet. 

“I-I…” You want to laugh. Abby fucking Anderson, WLF soldier, bulkier and stronger than most men, whimpering over her pussy getting licked by a girl. It was cute, adorable really.

“Gonna c-“ She couldn’t finish that sentence, didn’t need to, you could tell from the way her muscles tensed, how her thighs pressed against your face and glistening slick poured onto it.

“Mmm…” Abby hums as she cums a second time, her swollen cunt not getting a break. 

You decide to go up this time, after all you would probably require oxygen at some point. This wasn’t going to stop here though.

“Bedroom.” Is all you say as you shove her back and make your way to your room, letting her swiftly pull her pants back up and gather herself before making her way past the main hall to the dorms. Almost everyone looked at the two of you and were actively avoiding eye contact. Fuck, they definitely heard.

You both hurried to the room and you jump on her, pushing her back onto the bed. You kiss her passionately, the taste of Abby lingering in both of your mouths. 

“Stay here and take all your shit off.” You say, turning away from the awe-struck Abby. She’s not sure whether to be impressed, embarrassed, turned on or all 3, but she does as you say, removing her shoes, shirt, jeans and already drenched underwear. You walk over to her bag and grab out a metal pair of handcuffs. She’s gonna look so fucking good in them, you can’t help but think.

You walk over to her, not showing her the handcuffs yet. She’s wearing your favourite one of her bras and you can’t help but admire her. 

“Put your arms up.” You say. Her large, muscular fucking arms.

When she does this, you grab her hands and pull them down, putting the handcuffs on her tightly and  cuffing her to the bed frame. Fuck, she was a site for sore eyes.

She looks beyond shocked as she moves her arm, trying to see if she was really constrained. 

“Remember the safe word?” You ask. She rolls her eyes.

“This is so fucking embarrassing.” 

“Do you want me or not?”

“…yes.” Abby admits. You smile, sitting on her hips.

“Then let me take you the way I want.” You say, sucking on her stomach and leaving a silky trail of saliva over her chest. Then, you unclip her bra, throwing it onto the floor. Your eyes widen at the side of her soft tits and hard nipples, just waiting eagerly to be sucked. You do so and she lets out a gasp.

“Mmnn” You keep going, running circles of her nipples. Then, you move down to the lower part of her breast and suck so hard it leaves a pretty red mark there. 

“So pretty for me.” You  say, and she’s to embarrassed to reply.

You grab a vibrator from the side table, it’s a pretty, pink, rechargeable one that you always used when Abby wasn’t around. She gasps at the site of it and tries to free herself from the cuffs and you just smile at her efforts. You put the lower part into her and rest the top part on her clit. You turn it on medium pulse and stand up, taking off your pants but leaving your panties on, They’re pretty, pink lace ones that Abby would ordinarily rip from your body with her teeth. The now defenceless Abby, however, watched you, entranced and desperate as you position yourself on her thigh, wrapping your arms around her neck and moving yourself slowly up and down her thigh.

“Take them off….” Abby sighs, not wanting to admit to you or herself how good the vibrator felt. You start sucking on her neck as hard as you can while still moving your hips on her thigh.

“Where are your manners Abs?” You tease. She sighs again. 

“Please?” You take off your shirt, revealing a matching bra. She leans over to kiss them but is returned to the reality of her restraints. Deciding to tease her further, you suck on her breasts again, adding a matching mark to her other tit. She looks infuriated, like she would rail the shit out of you if she could. But she can’t, and that made it so much better.

“Oh fuck~” Abby moans quietly, enjoying the vibrators pulse. You put your hand inside her and turn up the setting and she’s immediately crying out.

“Fuck, fuck wait p-please.” 

“You didn’t talk to me for a month.” You say, rolling your hips over her thighs. Fuck it felt good, too.

“Sorry.” Abby breathes out as the vibrator danced inside her. You lean in more so the top part of your clit can really savour its favourite sex toy, her muscular thighs.

“You flirted with a man at the gym”

“You flirted with a man at the…oh f-fuck…the bar…” She says. She put a hand on her throat, squeezing tightly. 

“The only word out of your mouth should be sorry, or had you forgotten.”

“Sorry….” She moans. You’re pretty close now too and you keep moving up and down.

“You messed up the apartment.” You exclaim and Abbys eyes shut tight.

“I’m gonna-“

“Shut the fuck up. You made me feel like an idiot.”

“S—sorr-oh god.” Abby cries, and the sight of her cum dripping out of her pussy was picture worthy, something you would never forget.

You don’t turn it off though, not yet, and now she’s whimpering in a way you were sure would give you and eargasm. 

“You’re so sexy in cuffs Abigail.” You say, and the flustered, bulky woman squirms.

“God Abby hold still.” You say, putting all your body pressure onto her thigh to stop her movements as you thrust up on her thigh, letting yourself orgasm too. After about another minute of her whimpering, you finally turn off the vibrator, holding her face and kissing it.

“F…forgive me now?” She asks. You think for a second, but there’s one more thing you still have to try.

“Almost.” You say, taking off your underwear and bra. She doesn’t have the chance to speak even if she could.

“Need to feel all of you. You explain, putting your legs over hers and positioning your clits together.

“It’s too soon we just-“ 

“You’ve got one more in you Abby, I know it.” You comfort her as you start rocking your hips. She lets out a low grumble sound and moves her head back, her long, soft braid falling over her shoulder. 

“What was that thing you said before?” You ask over her pretty little moans. She’s flushing crimson at this point.

“You’re asking n…now mm~” She lets out. You moan too, fuck it felt amazing, you could feel the combined heat and wetness, you could hear the sweet sounds, it wouldn’t be long now.

“Mmm fucking say I-it….” You moan, gripping onto one of her biceps. 

“L…love you” She whimpers. You move faster.

“I…fuck I love you.” She breathes. Faster. “I….fucking….love….you” She manages as every inch of her fades away and you are left with just the feeling of your sweat and cum soaked bodies. You grab the key from beside you and unlock the cuffs, smiling at her.

“Well you could have just said that, I love you too.” You mock. She rolls her eyes, pinning you down below her. 

“You are fucking trouble.” She says, kissing you passionately. 

[teoft]

It's like Tumblr has become almost a diary for me, thanks to no character limit and a read more button. This atmosphere of acceptance and understanding helps a lot too.

I'll get back to posting actual art, juggling with Twitter and Bluesky along with commissions is taking up a lot of my time.

Anyway, thoughts about art community and being social

For the longest time I've had this feeling of being an outsider in this vague community of artists that see as colleagues of sorts. Like I meet all the "criteria" of being in the group, and yet don't really feel like I'm part of it. Well, it seems I am right in some way, and the reason is that they interact with each other, while I sit here drawing alone.

Unfortunately I've always been prone to isolate myself from others. I grew up feeling like I should be ashamed of loving to draw, since it was always fanart monsters, creatures and cool guys instead of "proper art" like animals and portraits. Before social media, I only drew for myself and never showed anything to anybody. I hid my art from my family, from the world, so that I wouldn't be judged. I think it is one of the biggest reasons why I have trouble interacting with people in the context of art (tbh I'm shit at being social anyway but that's a whole another problem).

Even when I had a scanner and means to post my art online, I never did, due to the whole "if you put something online it'll be there forever" mindset. My first actual account anywhere online must've been Facebook in 2010ish, where I only had a few friends. It was the perfect place for me to finally post anything online, and so I did: I used to post pretty much everything I drew on there. Slowly gaining courage, I eventually made my original Tumblr account, then Deviantart, Twitter, etc.

Still, all I did was throw my art out there in hopes of somebody liking it. I didn't really know how to interact with the people who commented on my posts, so instead I mostly just... made more art. I did have some friend groups here and there, but either they ended up falling apart or my social battery drained in such a way that I slowly drifted away. I had gotten used to just being by myself and relying only on myself in the online art world.

During my design studies, I started putting more thought and work on promoting myself, so that it could be one career path for me to take. My mindset was that I'll work hard and become "big", even if it meant that one post gained me just one follower. In 2020 I ended up going viral with a meme and suddenly getting tens of thousands of followers. It was great and a welcome boost of morale, but unfortunately 2020 was otherwise one of the worst years in my life.

Throughout the years people have come and gone, so the only constant for me has been myself, and my drive to develop my skills. Thus it's been too easy for me to just isolate myself. In a way it has been my strength with regards to art, but sometimes I wish I knew how to make lasting connections. I think/know I might be autistic to some degree, which adds to the difficulty of being social. Though, to be honest, I don't know if I'd gotten this far without my autistic hyperfixations.

I guess the thing I need to do now to fix this problem of loneliness and isolation is to just... slowly try and be more social. To reply to comments and talk to people. All of which is easier said than done. Still, just gotta take that first step and then keep going.

Despite lacking the kind of community I yearn for, it seems I've made a name for myself, enough so that people seem to take pride in knowing me. Or at least that's the impression I've gotten a few times. But still, I am happy that I've had a positive effect on people. After all, my two main motivators in art are that I like doing it, and I like when people enjoy my art.

[duhragonball]

Chainsaw Man ch.40-47

🎶Pu-ma man/ When will he find love? (Pu-ma man)🎶

We have now reached the Reze arc, which is the longest one thus far. I get a sense of importance from this one, although it kind of repeats a lot of the same situations we've seen before.

Last time, Makima took Denji out on a date, and reassured him that he does indeed have a heart. Denji's been riding that high ever since, because it's been troubling him for a while now that he might be losing his sense of empathy and other emoitons, but apparently all he needed was Makima to tell him "nuh-uh" and he's fine.

On his way home, it starts raining, and he takes shelter inside a... well, it looks kind of like one of those covered bus stop benches, except it's much smaller, like it's only meant for one person. Then a woman ducks inside with him and she starts laughing, then crying. She says it's because Denji's face reminds her of her recently deceased pet dog.

Denji donated money to some charity collection on the street, and they gave him a flower in return, so he gives this to the woman to cheer her up. Well, he pretends to cough it up from his mouth. On the first reading, I thought he had actually swallowed it, because I wouldn't put it past him.

When the rain lets up, she invites him to the coffee shop where she works so she can thank him properly sometime, and he has nothing better to do so he just heads straight there. He actually makes it in before she does, but she's happy to see him so she just buys him a coffee and sits with him, even though she's supposed to be waiting tables.

So it's basically what we've seen before with Makima and Himeno. Denji meets a girl who acts nice to him, and he immediately falls in love with her. The only real twist this time is that he decided after the date with Makima that he's devoting himself to here, so now he's falling for this girl, Reze, and he feels like he's in a love triangle now.

And what makes this internal conflict so sad is that neither girl actually cares about him the way he thinks. We'll get to Reze later, but I think it's pretty clear that Makima is just stringing Denji along to fulfill some greater plan she has. She told him from the start that he was her pet, and she spends time with him and tells him reassuring things, but only enough to ensure his continued loyalty and good behavior. I can't prove it, but at the same time it seems incredibly obvious.

Let's check in on... ugh... Aki. All the Devil Hunters in Public Safety work in pairs, and Aki's current "Buddy" is the Angel Devil. I thought the Angel Devil was a girl, but turns out I was wrong. Denji thought the same thing too, so I guess I'm not the only one.

Aki loathes Devils on principle, since he considers them the enemy, and he only tolerates them in Public Safety as tools and weapons for hunting down other devils. He doesn't want this assignment, but Makima orders him to do it, because she believes the Angel Devil will prove useful. She told Aki he doesn't have to like the guy, but he does need to at least pretend to get along with him.

But Aki can't even manage that. Angel Devil doesn't really want to do anything. He's considered to be friendly towards humans, at least by devil standards, but he doesn't like being forced to work for Public Safety, and when Aki reminds him that he'll be killed if he doesn't do a good job, Angel Devil concludes that he'd rather die, honestly.

Also, there's a scene where they find a half-digested Devil Hunter inside a devil Aki killed, and Aki asks Angel Devil to use his powers to give the poor guy a painless death, and Angel Devil refuses to do even that, so Aki has to do it himself. So yeah, these two seem to be completely irreconcilable. Aki resented Denji and Power for their unprofessional personalities, but at least they could follow orders.

This is the part of the program where I usually rag on Aki for being a total chump who just lets the plot passively wash over him like a turd in a sewer, but this arc actually goes somewhere with him, so that's a fun thing to look forward to.

Back to Denji, he keeps coming back to the same cafe to see Reze, and when she finds out he never went to school or learned to read, she suggests that they sneak into a school in the middle of the night so she can show him what it's like. Or, I don't know, maybe Japanese schools leave their doors unlocked at night, so this is a popular dating activity.

Reze tries to convince Denji that it's kind of fucked up that he never got to go to school, and that seems to stress him out, so she takes him to the pool and offers to teach him how to swim. She also convinces him to skinny dip, since it's too dark out for them to really see all the nudity.

But then it starts raining, and they go back inside to wait for it to let up. Reze excuses herself to use the restroom, when...

... She runs into this guy, who chases her up to the roof of the school. His exact deal is never made clear, but he's got a contract with the Typhoon Devil, who wants the Chainsaw's heart. He's apparently had experience with these kinds of jobs, and he's had success using targets' loved ones against them. So his plan here is to take Reze captive and use her as bait for Denji.

This doesn't work out the way he expected, as Reze turns out to be more formidable than he expected. She gets behind him and applies a rear naked choke. Then she just starts singing in Russian while he dies. The song is apparently called "Jane Fell Asleep In the Church", and it's also the title of Chapter 43, where this scene takes place. When I google the song, all I find are Chainsaw Man references, including fans asking if this was a real song or something Tatsuki Fujimoto invented for this story.

Once she's finished with that, Reze confronts the Typhoon Devil, accusing him of causing this rain that forced her and Denji back into the school. Typhoon apologizes profusely, as he had no idea she was involved here, but she offers to excuse him if she assists her from here on. Also, she wants him to dispose of the guy she just killed. How do these two even know each other?

Reze says nothing to Denji about the incident on the roof, and invites him to a festival. As they watch fireworks, she asks him to run away with her so he can get out of the Devil Hunter life, but he refuses. His job is going very well lately, and he doesn't want to give that up. This is significant because up until now Denji just appreciated his job for the food and shelter he got out of it, but now he seems to feel a sense of attachment to Public Safety, and not just because he thinks his boss will have sex with him later.

I guess what I'm saying here is that Denji seems to have developed an appreciation for his career in the abstract sense. He's good at the work, and he takes some professional pride out of it, and he feels recognized for his efforts. Reze's whole argument for leaving is that he should be in school and getting more out of life than the bare minimum, but that kind of backfires, because her saying that forces Denji to realize that he already has more than the bare minimum. He just hadn't been thinking of it that way because his ambitions were so low.

Reze concludes that Denji must like someone else, so she goes in for a kiss, maybe to say goodbye, and then...

She... bites off the end of his tongue? I mean, that's creepy as fuck, but wha--? Denji realizes he's under attack, but she he goes to pull his rip cord, Reze pulls a knife and lops off his left hand. What are knives made of in this world?

I guess this is an effective enough way to take down Denji. I mean, he can't transform and he can't call for help, but still, if Reze's trying to kill this guy, you'd think she would have gone for the hands first. I guess I shouldn't tell her how to do her job. Her boss at the cafe keep scolding her, but she got Denji to come back several days in a row for lunch, so she clearly knows how to draw customers. Whom am I to tell her how to kill people.

But she forgot one thing: Denji's assigned buddy, Beam, the Shark Fiend. We met this guy in the last arc, and Makima paired these two off while she was having Power's excess blood drained off. Beam's powers allow him to swim through solid materials, and in fact he was nearby most of the time, trailing Denji discreetly by swimming in the road. When this arc begins, we see the fin on his head following Denji, and he even pops up and Denji chews him out for revealing himself. For whatever reason, Beam seems fanatically devoted to "Lord Chainsaw", and so when Denji ordered him to keep a low profile, he obeyed. And so he kept such a low profile that Reze never noticed he was around until now.

So Reze escalates things by pulling the ring on her choker, which turns out to be a grenade pin? Uh-oh.

So what is this? Bomb Woman? Bomb Devil? Bomb Fiend? What's weird is that a lot of these characters have the same basic concept for their powers, but there's all these unique explanations for how they got this way. Beam and Chainsaw Man look a like, but Beam is a Shark Devil who inhabited a corpse, while Chainsaw Man is the result of Denji merging with Pochita. Angel Devil isn't merged with any humans at all, live or dead, but he just happens to look like a human.

So Reze could be any of these things, or something else entirely, and I think the answer is going to turn out to be "something else entirely". I just noticed her apron thing is covered in sticks of dynamite, so that's pretty badass.

So from here, it's a pretty standard Chainsaw Man battle. Reze quickly catches up with Beam, who tries to defend his "lord", but he's hopelessly outmatched. The only reason he manages to escape with Denji is that some civilian Devil Hunters from the festival notice all the exploisions and come to deal with her. But she's a lot stronger than the devils they're used to fighting, so she makes short work of them. Still, it's enough time for Beam to escape to...

... Well, I don't know where this is, actually. It's some facility used by Public Safety, and Aki happens to be there, so when Beam shows up with Denji and claims to be with the Special Division they get Aki to vouch for them.

Beam can barely speak, but he reports that "Bomb" is an ally of the Gun Devil. Aki wants to know how he could know this, but Beam says Makima made him promise not to answer this.

Reze isn't far behind, and she tries to use her human form to trick Public Safety into siding with her against Beam, but it doesn't work. Two of their guys try to hold her off while Aki and Angel take Beam and Denji away in a car.

So these guys have power to infect a target with mold or something, which seems to stymie Reze for a bit, but then she removes her own head and tosses it into the building like a grenade. That's pretty wild, but we're not done.

I think all of that must have just been a diversion, because the actual Reze is already inside the building, and she attacks the good guys while they're still dealing with the exploding head thing. Also, the body that tossed the head is still active. It runs into the building and also explodes.

There's a fight in the buildng, but I think you already knew how that was gonna go. All the important characters are in the car, and before long Reze intercepts them and shows off the heads of two of the guys she killed, just to make a point. She offers to spare Aki and the others if they surrender Denji, but she's not going to be stopped.

Aki refuses, though, and makes a break for it, and then some other Pubic Safety Special Division guys show up to help. Aki must have called them during his flight from the building. Violence Devil tries to beat her up, but she's too strong, so he runs away.

Next up is Kobeni, who... curls up in a fetal position and begs for mercy. Good hustle, Kobeni.

I'll give them this, they survived the engagement, and they bought time for Aki to put some more distance between Reze and Denji. The whole time, he's got Beam and Angel feeding their blood to Denji, but he's running out of options. She catches up to them pretty quickly, but he can't call for more help, and he refuses to surrender Denji. He talks about ramming her with the car, but seriously, what good would that do?

But then something tears out of the car, and it's...

Chainsaw Man! He's back, and this time, it's personal. Aki warns him that he's still too weak for a fight, but I don't know about that. Denji never had a chance to go one-on-one with Reze before, because he didn't know she was the enemy until it was too late. Also, Denji's pissed because every woman he meets is only interested in him for the "Chainsaw heart", but what about his heart?

Reze tries to feign affection for him as a diversion, but Aki keeps Denji on point. Hey, look at Aki making himself useful for a change.

So then they get ready to fight, and I gotta say, this looks pretty awesome. Reze's got a really cool design, and I like how this grudge between them has been set up. She betrayed him completely, and he's really ticking her off because this was supposed to be a stealth mission, and now she's fighting the entire Public Safety team in the middle of the city.

But we're out of time, so we'll have to pick this up in the next installment. Don'cha dare miss it!

[jeannereames]

What should we make of Alexander I and Perdiccas II both having long 40+ years long reigns, only for all of their successors having substantially shorter ones? And, if you are in the mood, who do you think was the better ruler between the two?

Alexander I and Perdikkas II

First, I thought I’d mention one of the cool things to come out of the recent ATG conference is a plan to produce an edited collection: Alexander I and the Making of Macedon. It’ll be a while, but if I can get us a publisher, I’ve got the contributors.

Also of note, Sabine Müller and Johannes Heinrichs are producing a monograph on Alexander I in English. She has a great one on Perdikkas but it’s in German, so I was very happy to hear this.

Finally, I've got a number of racked-up Asks. This answer will answer about three of them. I'll link it to the other questions. :-)

To the questions: it’s really hard to compare Alexander I and Perdikkas II simply because they were dealing with very different circumstances. Alexander I had Persian assistance holding the throne, while Perdikkas was tossed off his throne at least once.

The biggest difficulty is a source problem. ALL our info about these guys (outside archaeology) comes from Greeks, who were chiefly interested in them only when they intersected with the southern Greek world. There’s a fair bit about Alex I’s internal politicking that we just don’t know. What we call “Lower Macedon” probably only goes back a couple generations, despite the mythical king list. We find a MARKED change in burial practices c. 570 BCE, which is before Persians were mucking around up there. This suggests a change—or more likely consolidation—in the lowland Macedonian ruling elite, both west and a bit east of the Axios River.

If Alexander I took over c. 500-495 (coin above), and his father Amyntas (about whom we know nothing but a name) ruled for 20/30-ish years before, then Alexander’ grandfather (Alketas) or great-grandfather (Airopos) would have consolidated the area around Aigai. Yet ALL names before Amyntas I are essentially fictional. Certainly the “founder’s” name changed across time. It’s Perdikkas when we first hear of it in Herodotos, but may have shifted to Archelaos later (see Euripides’s play of that name). Later yet (under Philip), it seems to have become Karanos. If Bill Greenwalt’s theories are right. This is not a real person in any historical sense.

The problem with dating Alexander I is that we neither know for sure when he took the throne nor when he died. It was convenient for Alexander to blame his father for any concessions to the Persians, but he—not Amyntas—married his sister Gygaia to a Persian (Bubares, son of Magabazus and distantly royal).* More likely he was already on the throne in the 490s but may have been quite young. He seems to have used the Persian presence to further consolidate the (new) Macedonian kingdom—against Paionians and others—adding territory as far away as Amphipolis, at least temporarily, and thus, getting hold of both silver and gold mines to mint coins. The Echedoros River also held gold. All the gold in pre-Alexander Macedonia was pacer mining (panning), not from the gold mines of Mt. Pangaion. Yet gold, while present in the rivers, only became important in graves in Macedonia c. 570…it’s part of that startling shift in burials that we see.

We also don’t know exactly when Alexander I died and Perdikkas took over. He was still king at the end of the Persian Wars in 479/78, but dead by 450. His death may have been closer to 460, or even earlier. So his reign was probably more like 30-35 years. Perdikkas perhaps reigned longest of all—one reason he’s exceptional. I wonder if the Peloponnesian War itself may have contributed to his success: for all he had his challengers, if Macedon wanted to survive as an independent political entity, they needed to rally around him.

Yet he faced his share of opposition from other Argeads as well as the very powerful Upper Macedonian kingdoms of Lynkestis (Lynkis) and Elimeia, not to mention predatory Illyrians. That’s why Perdikkas sought an alliance with Brasidas of Sparta, but apparently couldn’t even control his own troops enough to keep them from deserting when facing Illyrians. That earned Brasidas’s wrath. As a result, Perdikkas (coin below) had to make nice with Athens.

That’s just one example of Perdikkas’s deal-making during the war. He had quite a job of diplomatic shuffling—no doubt learned from Daddy Alexander. Neither had a kingdom anywhere near strong enough to fend off Persia, or Athens and Sparta later. The fact Perdikkas didn’t end up a client king to either Sparta or Athens is a testament to his diplomatic skill.

Perdikkas’s eldest son Archelaos wasn’t the “illegitimate” son of a slave but of a lesser wife, which is why the younger (unnamed) son initially inherited. Archelaos quickly did away with him (plus an uncle and cousin), then proceeded to continue the modernizing work of his father and grandfather. Until he got run through in a hunting “accident.” After that, the kingdom dissolved into a mess.

The problem of a fast turn-over of rule owed to their inheritance system: any Argead had a claim on the throne. Kings also practiced royal polygamy, although two wives (at most three) seems to have been typical until Philip II. In some ways, it worked well, as it produced multiple heirs from which a strong king could emerge (by surviving).

That was also its problem: no clear method of succession, even if the sons of higher-status mothers apparently had a leg-up. Perdikkas himself was not Alexander’s eldest son. He had two older brothers and two younger ones. Yet either his mother was the most prominent or he showed the most promise (or both). Despite Archelaos’s age and apparent ability, he was initially passed over, although Plato (who tells the story) means to paint Archelaos poorly. That doesn’t mean he didn’t kill competing Argeads to take the throne. So had his father, and probably grandfather too (we just don’t hear about it).

Yet Archelaos’s unexpected death led to a continuing crisis until Amyntas III, Phil’s dad, took and kept the throne. He came from a collateral Argead line descended from Alexander I’s youngest son. The other lines killed each other off. For all Amyntas wasn’t a terribly prepossessing king, he managed not to die. But he, too, was run off his throne at least once, maybe twice. When he did die, it was in his bed of old age—not a common thing for Macedonian kings. His reign was the first tolerably long one after Archelaos, over 20 years.

By the time Philip came to the throne, there weren’t many Argeads left thanks to the catch-as-catch-can method of succession: Philip’s two older brothers were dead and all three of his half-brothers. It was down to just him and his brother Perdikkas III’s infant son: Amyntas.

This is the inevitable problem when lacking a clear succession. Yet a clear succession can create its own problems with incompetent heirs, who don’t always recognize they’re incompetent. The free-for-all gave a better shot at a strong king—ostensibly why it developed—but it also meant the kingdom ran out of “spares” after a couple generations. They went from more Argeads than you could shake a stick at following Alexander I’s death, down to just three at Philip’s death, and two at Alexander’s death** in a matter of 5-6 generations. Within those 5-6 generations, 12-14 kings reigned! And we have no idea how many brothers/cousins/uncles Alexander I had, and perhaps killed, before he became king. We hear only about the one sister.

Stability was not a hallmark of the Argead dynasty.

——

* The story of Alexander killing Persian emissaries is much later fictional propaganda. Didn’t happen.

* Alexander’s son Herakles by Barsine might count as a third, but the army doesn’t seem to have considered him viable for whatever reason.

[meowthefluffy]

An update on my unfinished au’s!

I have over the last few months fallen deeply out of love with the Sanders Sides series and as a result I have not updated any of my projects in some time. At the current point I am at I am only planning to do the final two installments in the cupid au (because I pretty much lost my affection for the ts series right before the big finale of the project!!) and the lust Roman au (as it is my longest running work to date and I want to comple the project as a show of dedication to my younger self) although it will most likely be on a much quicker time scale than I was intending originally! (Instead of the 11 more parts I was hoping to produce it will probably be closer to 5 and I will most likely skip a few parts of the story that weren’t as important)

I feel a lot of affection for the work I have created but not a lot for the actual series so I’m trying to find a way to rework the stories I’ve created for the au’s to become independent creations that I will enjoy continuing to make! (Aside from the Lust au which I feel is mostly a story I don’t feel the need to come back to/rework since it relies so heavily on the source material) Most of my au’s function as stories mostly separate from canon material except for the characters archetypes present in each, so I’ll be working on retooling/reskinning said work to be more original and workable as long term projects! (Since u guys were really invest in my plots which had almost nothing to do with the canon characterization)

I’m currently working on retooling the Zombie au (Which I used as heavy inspiration for my oc Sophia I sometimes post about and her girlfriend) the Cupid au (I’m putting together more creative designs for the characters so that I can hopefully redo the comic- since I’m super in love with the concept) The sleeping beauty au (since it functions entirely the same as a stand alone story- and I could use the designs of my princess characters from that comic I made a long time ago for Valentine’s Day ) and the Super hero au! (Which I never properly defined and thus have a lot of incomplete ideas for, and my only struggle is coming up with better super hero names for them)

The only one of my main au’s I probably won’t rework is the Evil king au- just because I’m not sure how I could retool it to not just be a story about abuse(I feel more comfortable creating a story where everything is horrible and bad and the people involved are just bad for eachother when it’s an au- because there is other work of those characters where they aren’t that way to balance it out- but if it were my own new characters I feel as though it wouldn’t be nearly as fun to read or write)

This is a series of decisions I’ve been trying to wait on for a long time because I have been hoping something sanders Sides related would come out soon that would re spark my interest but nothing so far has happened- and with the way the story is going I don’t think it’s something that is going to happen. I still love all the work I have created for this fandom and I am so proud of all the collaborative projects I have been able to create with you all! I will happily re-read your asks and comments on my comics and I am still really proud of the community I’ve been able to create!

I’m sad to let this part of my life go (it’s taken up a solid 4th of my lifetime) and I understand that a lot of you all won’t follow me to my new projects- because I understand you guys didn’t come here for random oc projects- or original comics. And Altho it breaks my heart to see some of you move on and leave my notifications I am happy I the time with you all that I did!

Thank you all for everything- and I’ll see you soon 💖

[dr-gl0rbiez]

Time to yap because i have been given permission.

Just know this may be long because i have lowkey been waiting for this moment. Just know most stories end up covering topics of murder, drugs (if i get that far tbh), and overall bad topics, so just be careful i think. Im not gonna be graphic, very bare, but still, dont read if you dont wanna read about murder and stuff.

Anywayyyy, to start with, The Grim Reaper!!! So, in my oc world, the Grim Reaper and the God (used in a gender neutral way) of Death are two different beings. The Grim Reaper started off as a guy in a small British settlement, during the colonization of the new world in the Americas. He was part of an unknown and undocumented colony because of how short-lived they were. Basically, GR (Grim Reaper) lived in that colony with his pregnant wife, and as we all know, those colonies were eventually plagued with extreme mania, caused the well known Witch Trials! At some point, the colony began to try and say GR’s wife was committing witchcraft, thus making her baby a spawn of pure evil.

In their histeria, they killed her. They stabbed her twice in the stomach, once in the heart. GR watched as they murdered his very pregnant wife and unborn child, and became very anger and bitter to the colony (naturally). They (the colony) believed they had done the right thing, having “saved” the colony. However, they basically just doomed themselves and everyone else in the colony. He went crazy with delusions of a deer-headed figure, urging him to do what he feels is best to avenge his wife and child.

So, in the middle of the night, he went around in each tent and slaughtered every single person of the colony until no one was left. Like pigs. He then went and laid in the winter field near the fire, and carved out his own heart. It’s already broken, why does he need it, amiright?

Days, weeks, months pass as he’s died, and normally, you don’t wake back up. So it was a huge trip when he felt his eyes open back up and some voice speaking to him. Well, it wasnt him, more so an astral projection of himself (sort of), sibce his body was still on the ground, decomposing and covered in snow. In front of GR was a seven to eight foot tall….creature? Thing. With a deer’s skull for a head. It was covered in old moss and grass, black flowers grown into the eye sockets. Turns out that was the physical embodiment of death.

Death offer GR a chance to start anew, work with Death as a prodigy. Sort of. Also just because Death needed someone to help what with all the people dying in this time. So, GR just kinda ends up the Grim Reaper and working with Death. Yeah, im definitely making more posts of these, just in different parts cause this took a small while. Only because this story isn’t as fleshed out.

Also!!! As a heads up, some stories will be in the same parts because they may be too short to be on their own. Also, like i said above, this story isn’t my longest and is meant to be pretty vague and detail-less since im no good at writing.

Picture except it’s a bit older so it’s not as good as my recent art. That’s him and his girlfriend who’s introduced later.

[oh-my-hubris]

I swear I'm not vaguing at the friend who reblogged the thing (also not tagging you so it doesn't feel like a call-out, because it isn't) but don't want to jump on OP.

So, the reason, as far as I can tell, that people say someone is 'like family' instead of just elevating the term friend in their mind is that in our culture it more actively conveys the level of trust and intimacy.

The family as a unit (regardless of what that unit looks like, mutli-generational, not, etc.) tends to be considered extremely important and part of that is that it's reasonable to expect that you will have a deeper bond with the people you've been around the longest. This is naturally not always true, but it is expected.

There is, of course, nuance, but the simple version

You will have GROUP A, whom you would do anything for

GROUP B, whom you would do anything for that doesn't cause problems for GROUP A

GROUP C, whom you would do anything for that doesn't cause problems for groups A & B.

People don't like thinking along these lines, but I've found that its true.

In our society, group A tends to get labeled "family" and that doesn't always mean the people we are actually related to.

From my own life Kalen, my bestie, is group A. Absolutely one hundred percent ride or die for that guy.

My sisters? Probably B, maybe C?

My dad? C or D

Thus I say that Kalen is "like family" because it's a smoother way of explaining to externals that I am ride or die for him and that I trust him with myself and the things that are important to me to a higher degree than I trust other friends.

It's shorthand, basically.

[shoesallinaline]

Bit of a rough night at the theater: had to help with concessions in shoes that were not ideal for the purpose, had a racist encounter with a founding patron where I had to prevent myself from jumping across the counter at this man after he responded to my German accent with a "Chinese" accent, missed the pre-show cast & crew meeting because there were a thousand people who wanted drinks all ordering at once, and when I'm finally able to get upstairs to the booth, because I was filling in on spotlight tonight, and we start the show, guess what decides to not fucking work? Despite the fact that I had literally turned it on and tested it? The goddamn, motherfucking spotlight. And this is Cabaret, so...we need the spotlight to start the show, because there is no other light cue built in for this part of the song, just the spot. Thankfully our sound guy was able to figure out the issue (it wasn't receiving power from the outlet it was plugged into, because of fucking course), but that was easily the longest five minutes of my life thus far.

[cedarboughs]

Hiking Journal: The West Coast Trail

Day III: Matter Over Mind

August 30

Camper Bay to Walbran Creek

Writing in my folded journal days later, I didn’t seem to want to think about this day too much. Writing this post half a month later (it’s been busy, guys) I have to reconstruct.

My main memory is mud. Deep mud, bridged, and I use that word very loosely, by random scatterings of discarded boards that sink to the unseen bottom as often as not.

At least I saw this little stream grotto with a nice mushroom.

People talk up the ladders of the West Coast Trail as the hard part, and I don’t know why. Ladders are fine. Ladders stay where you step on them!

We got relief from the mud down steep ladders to Sandstone Creek, which is a beautiful spot where water cascades down under the bridge and off a final drop into a sediment-scarlet plunge cauldron.

Then more ladders (the longest ladders on the trail) to Cullite Creek, a spot that could have and maybe should have been our camp, but was only lunch.

Logan Creek has no ladders. The new suspension bridge that replaced the down-and-up in 2021 seems out of place. In the sense that it’s not falling apart. Good thing, too— the 100 metre sturdy steel span is an uncanny reminder that civilization is out there somewhere. The Golden Skybridge of similar construction claims to be the highest bridge of that sort in the country, but the Logan Creek bridge seems higher than that tourist trap to me.

After the bridge, mud again— not just mud, but bog! Bottomless bog! When Dad slipped off a particularly round and slippery log crossing, he landed knee-deep, and in spots our probing poles went even deeper. Most of this bog is crossed with boardwalks— most, thus the logs, bridging one of a dozen or more spots where the boardwalk has entirely dissolved.

Stunted cedars grow here among dead grey spars of their forebear killed by the encroaching acidic slurry.

Past the bog— more mud! More roots! More deadly obstacle courses, step after gastrocnemius-burning, high, meticulously planned step, kilometre after painstakingly slow kilometre. I moved beyond doubt into certainty that I wouldn't make it. After all, we weren't even particularly close yet to kilometre fifty out of seventy-five. How could I possible do the last three days again, twice, and still have further to go?

Trekking the West Coast Trail is a matter of matter over mind. One must accept, mentally, that the achievement of completion is impossible, that one absolutely can't, by any rational means or measure, take another step. Accepting this conviction frees up the precious energy that one might use up in fighting it. Then, while the mental battle resolves in surrender to stepping no more, simply find, stretch for, and take another step.

Somehow— writing by hand on the evening of Day VI I didn't remember how, nor has it come back to me by the time I type this out— we stumbled into Walbran Creek Camp as early sunset began to colour the sky over the distant mountains of the Olympic Peninsula in another nation far across the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Theoretical Cascadian interdependence notwithstanding.

As I watched the surf break, an alien black triangle emerged from the near water. Grey whales, rolling in the shallows to dig up a feast of sand-dwelling critters. They kept at it all night, huge fins rising out of the wave troughs with fluked tails flipping behind.

The campsite was busy as we made dinner, tents all packed in among the driftwood, barely a spare metre between them.. The whales played all night, but I needed sleep. I didn't know how I could continue, but I would continue. They did say at orientation that we should celebrate at Walbran, because the hardest part was past. We still weren't even a third of the way, and I'd been crying out of despair on the beach.

I left my vestibule open that night, propped wide by my poles.

Between the poles as I lay down my head, I could still see the whales turning in the surf below and the darkening twilight sky above. One star came out over the fading outline of Washington. Jupiter, maybe, the king of planets and pantheons playing evening star, or else bear-guarding red giant Arcturus beaming on a summer night.

Later on towards midnight when I woke, the sky was bright and clear. The galactic plane flowed bright into the ocean. Bright Vega and Lyra were overhead. Draco twisted among the twin bears. On the tip of the cub's tail, Polaris pointed onwards. Pointing north.

Even the great celestial hieroglypsh are bodies of dust illuminated / And if the heavens can be both sacred and dust / Well maybe so can the rest of us.

[dragonheadskilax]

Books I have read this year thus far:

Dracula -- I finished Part 2 as I realized I haven't completed my read of it. The men in the book are kindly in various ways, I like that when it comes to reading old books and seeing how nice the men are. Compared to the next book on this list.

This Side of Paradise -- About observing a man you wouldn't wanna be in close ties with and it's viewed as almost theatrical. It's like watching how much worse can this guy get.

Hamlet -- It's nice to finally know what the overall story is about beyond past the two well known scenes.

A Conneticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court -- Definetly deserves a reread as it's very humorous. These sorta stories are exactly like how me and Jim interpret plots in a way for the sake of the humor of it and taking place at a specific period, except that it's been written for real! Trains and newspaper invented at the time of castles and knights.

The Grapes of Wrath -- One of my longest reads so far. It really shows how it was like to live with nothing. The constant belief of telling oneself that one day, more money can be procurred and a house can be owned, is familiar to what I hear from my own family who came from far away throughout half my life.

Captain's Courageous -- A return to humor, I'd also want this one as a physical copy. I don't think I've read anything that included child characters, so as expected a lot of humor was around how the two boys were treated. One being a rich boy who's completely unfamiliar with physical labor and just had hundreds of dollars sitting in his pocket before falling overboard.

The Scarlet Letter -- The motivation to pick this one up was how I have been denied the opportunity to back in middle school. Due to the restrictions of my mother on certain topics and voiced her conservatism to my teachers. I had to miss a number of school days and assignments because of so. I also wasn't allow me to learn about banned books. So when I read the book, I couldn't see how it could be of an 'issue' within the content of the book aside for the theme around shame and sin. Bear in mind that before middle school I was placed in Catholic school so why shelter me on the concept of sin... Anyway, at the time of reading I finished my class on early North American history as well as watch a historical reality show called Colonial House. So I've become well acquinted on colonial history and especially the strong hold of religion within community. It's pretty enriching to look at other things to go along with reading a book.

[shepardstales]

Hi Guys,

Soooo I think I'm hitting another block in writing again, thus commencing part 2 of my longest writer's block ever which has lasted pretty much the entire year so far, except for like two to three weeks where I was able to write in the past month or so and i wrote so much it seems like ive run out of steam again

I don't know why my block has lasted this long, I don't know why but im trying everything to try and help it. I wanna apologise if you follow me for writing, i just think this is a sign i need to focus on other things for a while and that's why ive been crafting so much

Im not depressed or anything, my life is amazing.. but for some reason I just can't write at all and ive never had a block quite like this before. Ya'll who know me, know that usually I get 2-4 wips done in a year and now ive got none done this year to completion

I will write the ending to Heaven's Fallen at some point, I just don't know when.

If anyone wants to see anything on the blog, let me know by sending the suggestions to me, i wanna use this blog a lot more

I love ya'll, ya'll are amazing

@midnight-and-his-melodiverse @pheita @athensoddcollections @blackandwhitecircus @cheadarchesse @chickensarentcheap @desastreus @dyrewrites @enchantedlandcoffee @garthcelyn @vacantgodling @multi-lefaiye

[thescrapbookingscientist]

Bimonthly Media Roundup

- Sonic 3 (Movie) - Been hearing for awhile that this was the best Sonic movie thus far, and while I agree I do think the hype for it was somewhat overblown, at least for a non Sonic fan like me. I enjoyed maybe a bit more than the previous two, which is to say I thought it was fine, decently entertaining. I like the designs of the little aliens and appreciated that the movie focused on them, I thought Shadow's backstory was well done and liked the emotional through-line of the star metaphor, and the comedy was pretty good as well, not laugh out funny but charming enough. The middle of the movie kinda dragged though, I feel like there was a bit too many Jim Carrey antics, and overall I wasn't that invested in the plot, I was mostly watching out of curiosity. As a video game fan I'm glad the franchise exists as a good quality adaptation but I can't say I want to watch any of them more than once. Fun that they gave that edgy hedgehog a motorcycle though.

- Skies of Arcadia (Video Games) - Watched Jelloplaysgames' playthrough which was a ton a fun. Honestly really likable world and characters, I can't say the combat looked that interesting but everything else was pretty solid. I like all three members of the basically canon ploy trio, I liked the pro-trans vs hyper sexist armada improv bits by the letsplayers, and the various countries existing on floating islands is fun. A great time, it's a shame they never made more of this series.

- Wicked (Movie) - Re watch cause I love the fashion and musical sequences ans set designs and the sapphics. Good movie.

- Hunter x Hunter (Anime) - Started the 2nd longest running Shonen with my sister in hopes of having something that will last longer than the other anime we've been blasting through, only to blast through this one as well haha. It's pretty good, most of the arcs are well paced with interesting little tournament/puzzle setups, it doesn't have the blatant misogyny issue that a lot of shonen have (though it has a different uh. worse one occasionally, looking at the adult woman trying to date a child), Killua is a great character and I love his maximum ride or die little fashionista self-centered thing he's got going for him, a lot of the other side characters are fun, the power system makes for some fun fights, and it takes some surprising directions making it not entirely predictable but still narrative satisfying. It's also fun to commentate on and yell at the screen how much Gons dad sucks, we all hate that guy. Currently on the final anime arc so maybe I'll give a better breakdown next time, but for now I'm mostly positive on it.

- Hollow Knight (Video Game) - Hollow Knight is a super cute game with very neat and surprisingly dark lore, an interesting world, and an amazing soundtrack. It is also very hard. Honestly I picked the worst time to pick up the game given the last thing I want to do after experiencing mass levels of stress about my recently poor health, politically snowballing country, and disaster after disaster at work is to go home and repeatedly fail at a video game. I do enjoy the exploration part and it is satisfying to succeed, but honestly I may pause it for awhile, it's get good strategy is a little rough for the relaxation level I'm looking for right now.

- Arcane (TV) - I've said my piece about the show and how I overall think it's a really good piece of media even if the 2nd season has a lot of pacing and structural problems. I am nonetheless obsessed with it and have been for the past 2 months. I expect this to be the case for at least one more month, and baby I'm clinging to all the serotonin I can get.

- Dr Stone (Anime) - New season has been fine so far, the comically evil homo-erotic villains are kinda funny and their past with Senku is interesting. I like America and the boat as a setting, though I think they brought too many characters given how little any of them are given to do. I miss Kohaku relevance. It's not my favorite thing I'm watching but I appreciate the new episodes and want to see where it goes.

- Yellowjackets (TV) - Hey Yellowjackets is back nice. I still love everything that is happening in the past timeline, the court episode and stuff with Coach and Mari was nice. The present timeline is a bit more dicey, I appreciate the rising levels of insanity but it's kind of a bummer and paced way too slowly. Still overall good TV though, really interested in seeing where this goes.

- The Apothecary Diaries (Video Game) - Hell yeah my girl MaoMao is back baby. New season has been solid, great adaptation as usual. Consistently the show I'm most excited about seeing each week. I don't have anything new to say that I didn't say about the 1st season, it's just still a stellar show with great characters and fun mysteries.

Listening To: Midnight Ride by Orville Peck, Clueless by Beach Bunny, Jericho by Iniko, EPIC album, Fox Hunt by Sierra Ferrell, Harpy Hare by Yaelokre, Juno by Sabrina Carpenter, The Line, Fantastic, Sucker, and Ashes and Blood from Arcane s2 soundtrack, Against the Kitchen Floor by Will Wood, Waves by Dean Lewis. Die With a Smile by Lady Gaga and Bruno Mars, All My Friends by Katie Pruitt.