#I know how easy it is to get stuck thinking about how people are being stupid or hypocritical and feeling like there must be some way you

[janus-cadet]

So, hm, I may have my attention span stolen by yet another god of Discord. Lux was absolutely amazing in his lil disguise, and, well- that leads to yet another tarot card.

But oops, I tripped! There might have been a slight addition to the card, in the form of three other gods of the Pantheon, and one very distressed Doctor.

(Don't be fool, I'm sure he's having a great time. We know how much he likes dangerous murderous people, especially the blondes one)

Why the Five of Wands, tho? Well, that's actually very easy to answer- because that's The card for Discord. What else than the Pantheon to represent it? It's a card that express conflict, as in, you're un the midst of a battle (poor you, Doctor) that you simply can't escape. Don't expect to solve it with nicey dialogues and come to any common ground: everyone is stuck on what they want and cannot be bothered to hear what the others have to say. Maybe they simply couldn't be bother to care, vast beings that they are; all the more frustrating, because you know that if you could have them hear you out, much good could come from an association. It's complete chaos and disorder, from the whole human race driven mad by a giggle, or an entire theater of missing people. All you can do is rise above the mess; if they won't listen to reason (or a proposal to go play among the stars, which may or may not be due to your inability to be normal about blond murderers), then, you'll have to take action. You have to try to LISTEN. If you really do, well- you might actually find a surpringly nice end to the conflict you brought. Looking at you, Toymaker. Gonna make you eat your "and yet", idiot.

The card also stands for change and instability, which is the very thing those gods stand for- as shown by the effect they have on your reality, and the consequences they can bring upon your world. Tho the change, sometimes, can be positive; every transformation is not from flesh to dust. Maybe, sometimes, you'll get to turn into infinite light or something (if you're lucky and don't end up eaten by your own piano, or origamied into your own realm made small). All in all, this chaos is ultimately the source of dreadful inner conflict for you. Your perspective is constantly challenged by someone else, by new informations, and your approach to the growing problem cause you a tone of moral dilemmas.

Unfortunately, it does not look like it's going to get better for you, Doctor. Oopsie!

And there we are, for the eleventh Doctor Who tarot card of the lots! To think that this all started with wanting to draw the Masters, and now, I'm sixty cards in. We're nearing the end....

[lotuzies]

HOW I MANIFEST PHYSICAL CHANGES ✴︎ the simplified way

my credentials? in the ugly old story, i was someone naturally chubby and with no curves at all, literally rectangle shaped, yet the law allowed me to have a perfectly curved small waist. not only that, i had the deadest hair ends ever due to consistently dying it, but i'm so attached to my hair length the thought of cutting it sends shivers down my spine. cut to — my current perfect healthy silky smooth hair.

anyways, so. manifesting physical changes. contrary to a big part of the community, i find this one of the easiest things to manifest.

there's two ways you can go on about this: manifest a change or revise.

the first way, all you need to do is visualize. you can do this any way you want, looking at pictures, editing your photos, imagining, pick anything. literally all you need is imagination.

the important thing here is: you're not visualizing to get that. you're visualizing because you already have that. this is key!

there's no difference between your imagination and the physical, actually, the physical is simply your imagination being reflected, being materialized. everything that exists was once mere imagination. the moment you imagine something, boom, it's real.

so whenever you visualize it, know you have it. be confident. when looking for results, you're indirectly reinforcing the idea that it's something you want, not something you have, and you'll be stuck in an endless chase.

and obviously, persist in your visualization. affirmations are good too. whenever you catch thoughts that serve the old story, correct them. do whatever you want in order to persist in the desire until it stops feeling like a desire and starts feeling naturally yours.

in the second way, revision, you'll be changing your past too.

the only proof the past exists is your memory. luckily for all of us, reality is malleable, and our mind is insanely powerful.

essentially, the process is the same as the first one, except you'll look at your desired changes as something you have always had. as something you were born with.

besides visualizing, you can also try to feel it. close your eyes and try and feel as if your body is exactly how you desire, familiarize yourself with this feeling.

repeating myself here, but once again, persist. let go of the old story, of the old past, rewrite your story and persist until there's not a doubt in the world that it is your.

now, if we're talking about methods, i'm going to be honest, i don't really use any.

i think they're totally fine and i see why they're such a big help for some people, but they are NOT necessary. at all. also, this a personal mindset of mine, but it if they're not necessary, why would i do something i don't need to? for me, that just reinforces the idea that i don't have that, why would i go through hoops and loops to get something i already have? would you do a method to have the ability to read? to have a phone in your hands right now? no, because you know you have all those things, duh.

the only thing i do that can be considered a method is making vision boards on pinterest. i do these with the intention of familiarizing myself. i look & visualize so i can really get a grasp of the details, of how it looks, of how it feels, etc. make it feel completely normal to me, like second nature.

i hope this post could help you all and make you understand that manifesting physical changes isn't hard or time consuming. it's easy. and it's all within you. ♡

[bbina]

it was nice that kun wanted to treat you out for lunch to celebrate your first month of successfully working and dealing with chenle because last time he checked, all previous assistants didn't even last a full week

"a toast to y/n" kun raises his glass up in the air. you let out a chuckle, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you too raise your own glass

"to being overworked" you chirp, clinking your glass with kun, side eyeing chenle who rolls his eyes but raises his glass nonetheless

"i'm literally not overworking you but okay" chenle murmurs, clinking his glass against yours and kun

you and kun both share a laugh of disbelief. him not overworking you? yeah right. says the same man who makes you work overtime just to finish an unfinished report he had given you 5 minutes before you had to clock out

"so, y/n.." kun starts, "any complaints, reviews or what not that you've kept to yourself for the past month about working with chenle here?" kun nods his head towards chenle's direction who glares at him

because in his defense, why do people keep saying that he's such an evil boss?

you take a good look at chenle and kun before you try to formulate your answer. if you had to be honest, you had a lot to say about working under chenle

first of all, he was unpredictable. you literally cannot guess if the day was gonna be a calm day because most of the time, it won't be one

second, there are times that he's so moody but maybe that's what running a company does to you at such a young age. you do admit that you commend him for such feat. it isn't easy being a young and successful ceo. you can say that now because you literally work with him

sure there are some positive sides working with him but it's mostly with chenle's overall character that you still can't quite get a hold of properly but given that it's been a month and chenle hasn't fired you despite talking back to him more now, then that should be a good sign itself

"oh she's thinking. there must be a lot" kun comments, shooting chenle a look to which the latter brushes off

"let's not get ahead of ourselves. we already know what she feels about me.. right, y/n?" chenle smirks, clearly referencing to your viral tweet. its been two weeks since the incident but it seems like he's the only one still holding onto the comment

"i bet you liked the compliment since it clearly got to your head" you murmured, sipping on your water as you look at chenle

kun snorts at your answer, clearly amused by the way you talk to your boss. it's honestly so refreshing to see someone who isn't afraid of chenle. maybe that's why his previous assistants didn't last long, or so he thinks

"but seriously though. it's an actual miracle that you lasted this long. chenle here had 3 assistants and they all ran the way" kun recalls, reminiscing the three assistants that only caused them more work than help since they all just left without a trace, "so you still being here has to mean something" he smiles, reaching over to pat your shoulder

"so sir zhong is the problem?" you ask, obviously a joke but the way you say it makes it sound like you were being genuine causing chenle to glare at you across the table and kun to laugh his ass off

chenle scoffs, remembering those dark times (not really) at the company where he and kun managed everything themselves. how he had to constantly rely on kun for the smallest of things because he couldn't keep track of anything anymore with everything going on all at once. how he had to balance his work and life balance all himself. review all those slides, papers, reports all on his own because he couldn't find competent people to actually help him and get the job done

it wasn't easy at the time but now, things have felt so much lighter now that you stuck around

not that chenle will full on admit that out loud. so what if you lasted a month with him? so what if you just magically get the shit he dumps on you done before the day ends even if it costs you to work over time (little did you know, he actually takes notes of the hours you spent working over time and adds it to your paycheck as incentives. huge incentives at that. his own silent way of thanking you for your hard work but you don't have to know that)

"i'm not hard to work with" chenle grumbles, eyes straying to you, "it's just that the previous assistants didn't do their job properly"

"so you're saying i do my job properly in your standards? thanks for the praise boss. i'll be sure to remember this forever" you coo dramatically, putting your hands on your chest as you smile at chenle

"thin ice. ms. jung. thin ice" chenle warns, eyes narrowing slightly at your playful remark. he would rather die than to admit that right now

"you said that earlier but look at you treating me out for lunch to celebrate me dealing with you" you retort

"you mean kun is treating you. not me because if i did, i would've chose the cheapest thing on the menu here"

"yeah sir kun did. with your company card so thanks anyway" you smile fakely at your boss

kun could only watch the way you two bounce off each other. even if it sounded like you two hate each other, the banter was something else. you actually match his energy. maybe that's why chenle keeps you around

"you two get along so well" kun comments, smiling between you and chenle

"no we don't" you and chenle both say at the same time. you let out a little gasp as chenle turns away huffing

"my point exactly" kun grins, seemingly happy at the situation. chenle had found his perfect assistant for him

BUSINESS PROPOSAL ᝰ.ᐟ . . . A MONTH

✎ . . . things aren't going as planned the way you thought it was going to be. especially the part where you find yourself falling in love with your own boss– which was definitely not part of the agreed proposal.

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✎ AUTHORS NOTE . . . we're getting somewhere + i think this might be the last implied timeskip chapters for now. ive only been doing that to establish how theyre getting closer lol

✎ TAGLIST . . . @mrkleelvr @jenodigital @https-dandelion @rik0shii @spacejip @yyangj3lly @multifandomania @taroddori @222brainrot @amouriu @defzcl @va1entinaa @carelessshootanonymous @onlywonb @flaminghotyourmom @do-you-remember-summer-127 @grimlinshere @yayayaiheardyouthefirsttime @hoeingthefuckup @meltinghershey @alwayswook @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie @dudekiss3r @sibwol @planetmarlowe @doraemiz @morklee02 @httpsxnox @firydst @yuyita-rosier @ayukas @cottonjaems @monomya @neocults26 @greenyweirdo

[quirkwizard]

Mutant Mayhem: A Critique on the Mutant Sub-Arc

Normally, I start this off with some kind of intro to establish what I'm talking about, but I'm not going to lie: I think this might be the worst thing to come out of the main storyline. This may be a surprise to long-time followers of the blog. My dislike of Stars and Stripes and her arc has been well documented, with me calling it the worst part of MHA. As much as I dislike a lot of elements of the Stars and Stripes Arc, I can at least understand what Hori was going for, and it's pretty easy to ignore in the grand scheme of things. With this? I can't understand this.

So I want to put two disclaimers here. First off, I am not an expert on politics, sociology, or anything related to that in any way. I do not know how the events in the manga reflect real world issues, both in Japan specifically and the world at large. What I am is a writer. I am someone who analyzes stories for fun. This is going to be a critique of how the story handles the plot purely from a writing perspective. It will not be a critique of whether it is realistic or comparable to real world events. I'm sure there are other people far more equipped to handle talking about this.

Second off, for the sake of this, I'm ignoring a lot of the character work with Spinner. I actually think that's some strong stuff here. It just happens to be stuck in the middle of an arc that I don't feel uses that well. I know that isn't nearly as important as the first disclaimer, but I like it a lot and I want to give this arc flowers where I can. So, without further ado, let us get into this.

The Major Players

To be frank, Shoji and Koda feel out of place here. Do not get me wrong. I like them both, Shoji especially, but it does not feel like either of them has any place leading an arc. He's such a background character, even among the ranks of 1-A. And Koda is even worse in terms of relevance. Shoji and Koda don't have any real arcs of their own or connections to Spinner to make this feel warranted, let alone satisfying. At least, not that'd tie them into this part of the story. Koda is a kid who was shy that wanted to find his voice and gain more confidence. Shoji, the leading man of this whole arc has... nothing. He was just a quiet, minimalist who helped out where he could.

On the other end of things, there is Spinner. For the whole of this arc, Spinner is reduced a brainly functional monster. Yeah, that's great for his character, but it hurts the rest of the arc and the point it is trying to make. Because the guy who is supposed to be leading this part of the story has been reduced to a drooling moron who can barely string a sentence together. When he does talk, all he can say is that he doesn't even care what his own allies are doing. It makes it come across that Spinner doesn't have any real place in his own arc. It ends up hurting the manga and the story it is trying to tell by actively robbing the key player of his agency.

And then we have the spider guy. I'm not even going to bother remembering his name. We don't know anything about him or why he's doing this. He's only really here to spout out exposition about the discrimination of the Mutants and what they have gone through. So do we get someone who is passionate about fighting for this cause? No, not really. He makes it clear to the audience that this is not his main goal. All he is there to do to keep the revolution going for the sake of All For One. He's not the kind of figurehead that this arc needs. Someone who can act as the passionate mouthpiece to really push what the Mutants want and need. He just ends up being some other stooge that quickly gets defeated without much thought.

So right off the bat, it doesn't feel like these characters have any strong ties or arcs to work with here. It feels like we're dealing with the leftovers. Like all the other characters were busy somewhere else, but needed something Spinner for his story and to get Kurogiri. Shoji and Koda are the only ones left with any kind of panel time, and now he had to throw some stuff together about how there was all this prejudice against Mutants. Because that is all you have to tie them all them together. Okay, sure, maybe the characters aren't really that good for this kind of story line. But maybe the actual writing and build up to make this part of the story will make this arc feel satisfying, right?

The Setup?

Right off the bat, I don't think that this plot line is that well established. Looking back at the series, what examples do we have of Mutant discrimination within the main manga? Maybe a few small moments. A comment about how big the doors are at UA as opposed to other places. Which can imply that other buildings aren't as accommodating for those, but it's never really explored that much beyond that one comment. Gang Orca is a Mutant and is said to be one of the most villainous-looking heroes. Yet I feel like that's a pretty forgettable fact about how minor of a character he is and how aggressive he tends to act around people. If anything, that feels like a bigger contributor to why people see him as a villain. 

A few insults based on how a character looks. Namely, Shoto to the dog Chief of Police, Dabi to Spinner during the car chase to get Overhaul, and Pony to Shoji during the Joint Training Arc. However, none of these are given real focus. They are all either played off like any other insult or even a joke, in the case of Dabi and Spinner. Do you see what I'm getting at? For all the focus it gets as an end-game issue, there really isn't a lot of focus put on it with the story or characters. It's all a bunch of smaller moments. Smaller moments that are few and far between and aren't given any kind of real gravity for when they do happen. There isn't anything that stands out to me that makes me think that Mutants are facing any kind of discrimination in the modern day.

And before any of you say anything, yes, there are more notable examples of problems like this in the Vigilantes spin-off. The most obvious one is Kirihito Kamachi. He has the body of a giant praying mantis. He has difficulty living and interacting with others because of how monstrous he is, such as finding a place that can accommodate him. That is a great exmaple... that is not in the main manga. As good as Vigilantes is, it's still ultimately supplementary material. To me, you shouldn't have to rely on supplementary material to support your main story. Because most people aren't going to be reading it. At least, not many people do from what I have seen. Within the main manga, there are only two major examples I can think of. 

The first is the Creature Rejection Clan. A group of people solely dedicated to the exclusion of Mutants on the basis of blood purity. Which certainly sounds bad. The story says they used to be a thing back when the first Quirks came about. Yet they are barely even an organization in the modern times. They are treated instead as a long-dead relic, who are so weak and fractured as to be a joke. The second is the attack on the giant fox woman, which has so many extraneous factors involved that I hesitate to count it. Such as the fact it was done by a bunch of people without any kind of real racial motivation behind it and it was a random attack by scared people during a total societal collapse. So while it was part of the world, it seemed more in the background. Something that happened before with some lingering wounds. A problem with the world that should be dealt with, but not something that is that prevalent.

The Mutant's Madness

We then cut to the current storyline and... we have a horde of thousands upon thousands of Mutants all marching on the hospital with Kurogiri inside of it. All of these Mutants were so disgruntled about the world as is, that they formed a mob of this size. We're told that Spinner was regularly attacked and sprayed with bug spray. We get mentions of these massive hate crimes against Mutants that were never mentioned before. We then get flashbacks to Shoji's history. About how he was beaten and heavily scarred by people that attacked him as child. This is something that happened whenever he interacted with any other people. Hori: Where on Earth did any of this come from?

I want you to think about all the examples I picked out. I did not intentionally cherry-pick those. I tried my best to find all the notable examples of this before the arc. Would any of you assume that would be how Mutants were treated in the setting? I certainly wouldn't. I don't think I'd ever reach the conclusion that the story did. That, not even ten years ago, there were mass killings and public attacks on small children. This took such a drastic turn that I get whiplash just thinking about it. Was this ever implied or set up before? I feel like this kind of violence would have been shown or mentioned until now, but no. This is the first time we've heard about it on this scale.

And introducing a problem this big this late into the story, in the very arc it is relevant in, is sloppy writing to say the least. Realistically, this should be something that affects a large portion of the world and even members of our cast. You would think that if stuff like that was happening, we'd see way more examples of this in the story. Characters like Tokoyami, Sero, Tsuyu, and Mina. All of which could have been used to explore this more, but they have never been mentioned. Could you imagine if we only got passing mentions of what was going on with Himiko? And, outside of her obsession with blood, we never fully understood why she was that way. Only to find out there are thousands of other kids that go through exactly what she did and no one ever talked about it?

And why is that? Why is it never seen or mentioned? Hori tells us it's because the cities aren't as bad. It's out in the country where it's really bad. What?! What kind of explanation is that? Let's ignore the fact that it doesn't make any sense. If you have that kind of acceptable violence even out in the sticks, there would have to be some kind of sign of it in the major cities. The fact of the matter is that this is such a lazy excuse. Geez, Hori, if that was the case, maybe you should have shown us something outside the city then. Maybe then you could have built up this plot point more if you wanted it to be such a major focus of the arc. Why even go to this level of extreme with it? Especially since this level of violence the Mutants undergo suffocates the message so much.

The Mangled Message

My issue with the violence is that it is crippling the narrative the story wants to go for. Having it be this level of violence justifies the Mutants in their revolt. Shoji's whole point is not letting your hatred win and how you need to rise above what people think of you. A good sentiment on paper. If you want to talk about the kind of harm extremists can do to a message and progress as a whole, that is totally fine. Or maybe you could go with how people can be caught up in something that doesn't have their real interests at heart. There are a lot of ways you could go about this kind of message.

But that kind of talk doesn't exactly fly when your lives and wellbeing are in active danger. The Mutants aren't getting side-eyed by some old dude on a porch. They're running from hate mobs out for blood. Hate mobs are so wild and vindictive they will openly attack children on sight with zero moral compunctions about them. Which, yes, is the extreme, but the rest of what we learn doesn't make it seem like it's that far of an extreme. This kind of writing not only makes it jarring with what we have been shown, but it puts the Mutants as a whole in such a terrible position in this world. I can't exactly blame them for fighting back, even if it's aimed in the wrong direction.

When I'm writing this, I keep thinking back to that one line from Shoji. "Spinner, you're about to put us back thirty years." I get what the story is trying to say with that, but it feels so wrong here. Sure Shoji, you can try and be the model citizen that wants to bridge the gap between people. Not stooping to their level and all that. Yet trying to moralize people who feel actively threatened by the world at large doesn't come across the way you think it does. It comes across as tone-deaf and preachy even in the best light. And that's not the kind of thing you want to say about the guy who is supposed to be in the right. It's this weird moralizing that makes this sub-arc so hard to read and enjoy.

What makes it worse is that the crowd feels like such a mindless mob. One that only stopped because they realized they were attacking a hospital. What on Earth did you think you were doing here? Volunteer work? I get that the point is that Shoji's speech and the heroics of everyday people is what stopped them, but come on. It feels like Hori needed to put them in a much worse position morally to make the violence stop. That doesn't really acknowledge the problems that they are going through in a reasonable way. Why not make them stop because they feel like their leader is nothing more than a violent thug? Or the revelation that they are fighting for just to be used by All For One? Not because he cares about them, but because he just wants to build chaos?

This entire issue just feels so bizarre and poorly thought out on so many fronts. It makes me wonder why we're even getting this kind of arc in the first place. On the surface, it fits in with the other villains. Which I get is the point of the villains. They are people with genuine grievances towards society, but go too far with what they will do to get what they want. But at least it felt like the villains were exceptional extremes of the system who were hurting more than they helped. Their issues were a product of the system, but were far more personal. This seems like it's something far more widespread. Something so ingrained in the world that goes beyond any one person. So it feels at odds with how the rest of the villains and issues are set up.

And to be clear: I'm not saying this because I don't think MHA should cover these topics. In a series talking about the issues of society and how people need to work together to make things better, bigotry in any fashion could be something you could easily cover. If anything, I think that MHA Is uniquely suited to talk about this. It's certainly more appropriate to cover it here than other series that try to use its supernatural elements to talk about bigotry. And yes, that includes the X-Men. But to talk about these issues, you need to lay the groundwork. You need to tackle it with some tact. You need to know what you are doing. And Hori clearly doesn't know what he's doing here.

The Rewrite

Now, how would I fix this? This is kind of an awkward position for me to be in. Because I don't think you can fix this arc in and of itself. It's built around a foundation that is shaky at best. I honestly think you'd need a whole other mini-arc just to set this issue up and establish this as an issue for Shoji. At very least, you'd have to put a lot more of a focus on Spinner as a real character. So I think that the best answer is to just rewrite it from scratch.

For starters, you change the people that are attacking the hospital. The horde is not all Mutants. They are instead all followers of the League itself. They are just like Spinner was back when he was following the image of Stain. They are people who think they understand what the League is fighting for or are merely fighting back for their own personal vendettas. They are all people who felt small and hurt. It is effectively an army of Spinners. At least, as he was early on in the manga. And these aren't anywhere near as bad as they are in canon. It can be for whatever ill-thought-out reason there is. Spinner is still leading the charge, still full of Quirks. And while his change in form would tie into his other story, I'm going to try and make it relevant to the rest of the arc.

And you may be wondering how this ties back to Shoji? It doesn't. Again, I like Shoji, but he does not need to play such as a major part of the final arc focused on him. So I suggest we get another student to replace him. Specifically, Iida. Why put Iida here? To be perfectly frank, I think Iida was wasted in this arc. He doesn't have any real ending for the arc we've seen and doesn't add much to the part of the story he is in. All he's used for is a glorified taxi for Shoto to get to his arc. I do have an idea about him and why I am putting him here, but I'd be lying if I said my personal feelings on Iida this arc aren't part of my decisions.

To start things off, I would make it clear that this is one of the last functional hospitals in the country. This place is integral to treating the most seriously injured and sick. Trying to move any of the patients would likely kill them, including Kurogiri. The heroes wouldn't want to use it as a battleground, but feel forced to because such a valuable target is there with Kurogiri. So the heroes organize a force to help defend the hospital, for which Iida volunteers. And when asked about it, Iida says he wants to protect it because it's about his brother. Both that is what Tensei would do and all he can think about is his brother laying in that same hospital.

And this is where their dynamic would come in. Spinner and Iida are comparable in how they both looked up to a person in their life and how much that warped their perspective. After encountering Stain, both of them changed. Iida strived more to emulate and honor his brother rather than idolize him. He wanted to be the one to build up the rest of his classmates and become a proper hero that can save people. Spinner went from being a fanboy to an idol himself, but a false one. He got the power he wanted, but an empty in the process, with everyone else ascribing things to his actions rather than having any real will of his own.

I'm doing this because, in a series all about inherited wills and legacy, I think that you could do something focusing on inheriting the wrong ideas from someone. That is brought up a few times throughout the series, but I think that some part of the finale could focus on it. It's how your actions have meaning and those actions can spread out to people who look up to you and trust you. These are the roles that Iida and Spinner fulfill. It ties back to what the Mutant Sub-Arc was trying to bring up about how this group of people is being used and radicalized for All For One's cause and not their own, but in a way that doesn't tie it to all the baggage of discrimination and bigotry. 

Iida can talk about how the crowd is misguided. That the League and All For One aren't on their side. Nobody in the crowd cares though. They rather shout about their grievances. About why they are fighting this war in the first place. They all look up to Stain and Spinner as their revolutionaries. They all turned to Spinner looking for his wise words. This is the part where he says he doesn't care. He can give a similar speech as he did in canon, but it can be more to emphasize his own past as opposed to Iida. How Iida is where he is, because he was born lucky with a wealthy family and a strong Quirk.  I think that this would be a lot more personal to Spinner. His whole perspective and life has changed so much that Stain, the man that inspired him, is barely even an afterthought. 

This would be encouraged by a man on a roof seeing it all: Trumpet. Now, I am replacing the spider guy with Trumpet for a few reasons. One is that he's already an established character, and he already has ties to Spinner. Second is that his power of "Incite" could do a lot to explain how the crowd is fighting so well. Finally, I think that it could reflect how All For One is using these people. They aren't here to lead a revolution, but to cause chaos. And I think that works better with a figure like Trumpet. The second a new regime seems to be rolling in, he immediately switches sides to working with All For One. He isn't as staunch MLA follower as people thought he was and merely attached himself to it because it was a means of power. It feels more fitting for someone like him to talk about how he doesn't really believe in this kind of stuff than someone who should be affected by the issue they are fighting for.

So the battle rages on between the two groups. You could also throw in some of the students to help fight with Iida. To me, you could put any of the other students here if you want. Maybe you could have some moment for Jiro or Koda here. They'd be able to use the power of their Quirks to help drown out Trumpet and all of his rhetoric. Maybe you could have people like Sero and Ojiro work as the counterpoint. They don't have great Quirks, but they were still able to make it into the Heroics Course in spite of that fact. Their roles don't matter as much to me as the main conflict between Spinner and Iida. Iida tries to fight back as hard as he can, but, ironically, Spinner's ability to jump and climb between walls makes it hard for Iida to attack him.

That is when the crowd starts closing. The doctors are doing their stand to make sure no one can get in and hurt the patients. This makes the crowd hesitate some. At that moment, Iida gets an order. To stop the crowd no matter what it takes and save the doctors. Even if it means he has to kill Spinner. Everyone thinks that Iida is going to violently charge at and destroy the crowd. But no. Iida doesn't do that. Instead, he uses his immense speed to rescue everyone in the hospital. He is going at such high speeds that he is able to save everyone before they can die and move them to another location away from the fighting. All except Kurogiri, who is under such heavy defense that Iida could not reach him. Everyone is shocked and amazed at this, including Iida, who never thought he'd be able to pull off such a move.

After it's all done, Iida is spent. He used Recipro Burst too much and is now unable to move. Yet he still stands, begging the crowd to not attack the hospital. This is where Iida's arc ends. He gets to be a true hero, focusing on saving others rather than trying to hurt them, and making another speech to stop a raging crowd. The doctors can be out there as well, as I do think that bit is important to the greater themes of the series. And it does work for a moment. Spinner does not care though. He still moves forward. And then suddenly stops in his tracks. Only to reveal Stain had used "Bloodcurdle" on him, leaping from on high to stop the assault on the hospital. 

Yeah, I'm throwing Stain in here too. I've always disliked how Stain's death was handled. I don't mind him dying, just how it was done. Not only did it feel totally pointless, barely adding anything to the final fight with All For One, it felt so inconclusive to his character. There's more that could be done. We have already got the conclusion to All Might and Stain's connections at the statue, so having him die with Toshonori doesn't really fit. To me, Iida and Spinner have some of the strongest connections to Stain. Because they were the ones who were most changed by interacting with him and his legacy as a villain. So I believe that adding him here will add more to the arc and his own character.

This is a point where Stain takes Spinner to task about everything he's done so far. About how this was not his dream and not his goal. That was to flush out all the fake heroes. Not to hurt people who "didn't deserve it". By killing Iida and attacking his hospital, they are all corrupting his mission. This really puts a stop to the crowd. This is their idol, the one who started their revolution. And now he's talking about how their work makes them sick. So now he stands against them. To protect Iida and the hospital. You could even call back to his infamous speech, a dreadful aura falling over the whole Quirk. Yet Spinner starts to move again much sooner, either from losing so much blood from "Scalemail" or having a Type-O blood type, and the Quirk stops affecting him.

He charges up to Iida, ready to cleave him in half. Only for Stain to block the attack to save Iida, dying in the process as his body gets stuck on Spinner's weapon. Only to be tossed aside without a care as Spinner makes his way to the hospital. In this way, it acknowledges the growth of Iida into a "true hero" in the eyes of Stain. It's between these three elements that the crowd stops. The heroic moment of Iida, the death of Stain, and the obvious indifference of Spinner are all what led to them realizing that this cause may not be worth fighting for and stopping the charge. I think that would be a lot more point of a moment. Because now we get the culmination of Iida's character, the ironic death of a major villain, and the final tragic note of Spinner as a character.

And I think having it be this way could make it more fitting for where the two end up. We see Iida start to work closely with Uraraka when helping out the children. Maybe Iida could be working with other kids that are in trouble. He can be the guy who is trying to help out his community and lead like example. Just like what his brother was doing before him. Meanwhile, it could help recontextualize Spinner's ending. I've already talked about this in my rewrite of the ending before, but I think this could add a nice way to present Spinner's book. That he wants to tell the truth of the League and have them be remembered, but not in a way that will radicalize people like him in the future. 

Now, is this a deviation from the main story and what this sub-arc was going for? Yeah, but I don't think that you are losing much by changing the players and context. Here, you can still have the misguided rioters that have close ties to Spinner, but without a lot of the sloppy writing surrounding the Mutant storyline. It also can give more meat to two major characters that felt shafted by the final storyline. Iida get's recognized as a true hero, finally living up goal he had since he fought Stain. Stain himself dies an ironic, but fitting death. He dies at the hands of a follower who idolized him, but did so saving a kid he said was a false hero. Overall, I believe this does more justice to the characters and the story.

[ganondoodle]

Sorry ab the shitty English translations/localizations, it's bc they think that Americans won't get it otherwise (bc when we act stupid, we act REALLY stupid), our bad 💀

[jemandrr]

Unironically, Ben Shapiro's greatest win against the left was turning left/centerleft laypeople off from the idea of a 'debate with facts and logic' because of his bad faith arguments. Like it's almost...triggering to people, and that leaves a lot of people with unsharpened ideas and an unwillingness to explain them in a rigorous manner.

One example phenomenon that this has fed into is a continuing degradation in the lines of thought people use to reach certain conclusions - so person A expresses opinion X that person B agrees with, but because person B never really sees the entire line of thought laid out by anyone else, their formulation of opinion X based on their own intuition might randomly lean on some idea Y which person A doesn't care about. As a result, if Idea Y lacks actual backing, person B might wrongly defend opinion X and give an impression that the entire thing is flimsy, or person B might lose their own footing and assuredness and change sides.

I also think that he so badly mangled the concept of debate in the casual public consciousness that it's a contributing factor to the vague anti-academic sentiment in recent years. (Which, while academia as an institution has problems, there's certainly an undercurrent of less directed discontent that is contributing to low public opinion of education as a whole - and a greater feeling expressed on social media that 'casual reference of marquee media' is in a way insulting to people who have not consumed it, rather than an invitation to partake or something you can pass by without caring. Not on tumblr though, where we see Dracula and then we read Dracula.)

tl;dr his pseudo-intellectualism meaningfully contributed to certain common sentiments of anti-intellectualism because of how badly and annoyingly he and the people who emulate(d) him did/do it.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Hey, I don't normally make my own posts about this, but.

Do not argue with an anti on their own terms.

Don't get me wrong, I get it. You see the hypocrisy. You see the way they take aim at your favorite ships or characters or tropes while enjoying something similar. And you think "if I can point out to them just how hypocritical and idiotic they look right now, everyone will see our argument, they'll see that the anti is wrong and a hypocrite, and then maybe more people will stop harassing the people who like my thing. Maybe the anti will see the light and stop being a hypocrite."

But it will not work. It will not work.

There is an extremely high chance one of two things will occur:

They will double down on their argument, and ignore what you've said. (Ex. They might say "This relationship has an age gap. That's p3dophi1ia. That's dangerous." And you might say "well you ship something with the same age gap. Is it not p3dophi1ia and dangerous when you do it?" And they will just double down and say "This ship is dangerous. The shippers are grasping at straws to make their p3d0 ship normal.")

They will agree with you, but in the worst way possible. (Ex. Someone says "Ew your ship are basically siblings because they're childhood friends and grew up together. 1nc3st apologist." And you might respond "And yet we allow our most popular ship in this fandom to be popular? They grew up together as childhood friends and were inseparable. Why is that not inc3st?" because you think they'll gain a sense of perspective here. But then that person responds "People who ship that popular ship are freaks too then." Maybe they believed that before the convo or maybe they didn't, but the point now is that (while not your intention or fault by any means) some people have gone on to harass shippers of a ship that aren't doing anything wrong. What you think will bring clarity ends up raising tensions between shippers instead)

Do not meet them where they're at on their preconceived notions. You will not make them believe that they are wrong or hypocrites. Do not concede to their heavy assertions of abuse, p3dophi1ia, 1nc3st, etc levied against the thing you like for the sake of arguing that they are a hypocrite, or with intent to make them feel dumb for inadvertently labeling 80% of a fandom with said labels. They will not "see the light". The best thing you can do, if you have to say anything, is double down with "I'm not hurting anyone and it's fiction. I can do whatever I want" or "I don't give a shit what harmless things people like as long as it's tagged and I can filter out what I dislike" (especially if this is your stance). Then block and move on.

Antis, like trolls, thrive on engagement. They want you to argue so they can continue to point at you or lie about you or make you look bad.

It is in your best interest to pick your battles, and to try to sus out the difference between a friendly argument or standing up for yourself versus feeding the trolls. You won't make the right choice every time, all of us are human after all, but I promise you that ignoring and blocking bad faith actors, deleting their hate anons, etc, is not the coward's way out. Sometimes you don't need to fight. Sometimes keeping yourself from platforming bad faith actors and giving them nothing to go on will do the job (because there are more antis that are just small blogs with little power to do anything than you think, the kinds of people whose inflammatory posts will die if no one touches them).

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[freshmangojuice]

Kochanski could not accept a different version of Lister to the one she had known in her universe.

Lister, however, easily accepts the different versions of Rimmer he meets.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

So I guess it’s time for me to advertise to the entire neighborhood how insufferably neurodivergent I am by blaring a very specific playlist on a portable speaker while I ride my bike around the neighborhood, wearing very specific clothes — holding my hands, face, and posture in a very specific way — and pray to Satan (not really… I’m agnostic just like someone else, unironically) they understand what I’m trying to tell them with the music, and make the connection between the name I’m alluding to and exactly what that name means, and put two and two together that the name will happen to them if they take any pamphlets from my father seriously and decide to convert to the path of “everlasting life on a paradise earth” ahahAhAHAHAHA I AM MAD SCIENTIST! (sunuvabitch)

[youmustfixyourheartt]

fucked up what happened to mike crew.

[todayisafridaynight]

i think the only person who could REALLY confront kiryu was haruka and no one else, because, again, he cant dismiss her or fistfight with her about it. it could be so tasty to see how he tries to make a decision for again and she goes 'ummm chotto matte i actually have a kid now too, so how about I decide for MYSELF'. because one thing about me? i love generational conflicts. man it's just so sad because this game had all the potential to be great and yet

and speaking of other games, i'm planning on playing everything that has been ported to pc and localised. gonna go through completion lists in the games i've already finished :) looking forward to ishin and judgement and not really looking forward to y7 because the fighting looks nightmarish. until last week i was sure it was a beat em up... but if i learned how to play mahjong, i'll handle a turn based combat system too lmao

I don't think Kiryu would default to violence or an argument if someone were to call him out on his instability as a parent- he'd probably agree with them honestly as even as early as Y2 and later Y5, Kiryu had doubts of being able to raise just Haruka. Ergo, hearing it from Haruka herself probably would be the most effective and most impactful.

I'm sure you'll love Ishin! It's a really fun game with pretty colorful gameplay and opportunities and play around with the combat, and- maybe it's because I'm an enjoyer for history- the story's great to follow and become involved in.

[luetta]

idk if people on tumblr know about this but a cybersecurity software called crowdstrike just did what is probably the single biggest fuck up in any sector in the past 10 years. it's monumentally bad. literally the most horror-inducing nightmare scenario for a tech company.

some info, crowdstrike is essentially an antivirus software for enterprises. which means normal laypeople cant really get it, they're for businesses and organisations and important stuff.

so, on a friday evening (it of course wasnt friday everywhere but it was friday evening in oceania which is where it first started causing damage due to europe and na being asleep), crowdstrike pushed out an update to their windows users that caused a bug.

before i get into what the bug is, know that friday evening is the worst possible time to do this because people are going home. the weekend is starting. offices dont have people in them. this is just one of many perfectly placed failures in the rube goldburg machine of crowdstrike. there's a reason friday is called 'dont push to live friday' or more to the point 'dont fuck it up friday'

so, at 3pm at friday, an update comes rolling into crowdstrike users which is automatically implemented. this update immediately causes the computer to blue screen of death. very very bad. but it's not simply a 'you need to restart' crash, because the computer then gets stuck into a boot loop.

this is the worst possible thing because, in a boot loop state, a computer is never really able to get to a point where it can do anything. like download a fix. so there is nothing crowdstrike can do to remedy this death update anymore. it is now left to the end users.

it was pretty quickly identified what the problem was. you had to boot it in safe mode, and a very small file needed to be deleted. or you could just rename crowdstrike to something else so windows never attempts to use it.

it's a fairly easy fix in the grand scheme of things, but the issue is that it is effecting enterprises. which can have a looooot of computers. in many different locations. so an IT person would need to manually fix hundreds of computers, sometimes in whole other cities and perhaps even other countries if theyre big enough.

another fuck up crowdstrike did was they did not stagger the update, so they could catch any mistakes before they wrecked havoc. (and also how how HOW do you not catch this before deploying it. this isn't a code oopsie this is a complete failure of quality ensurance that probably permeates the whole company to not realise their update was an instant kill). they rolled it out to everyone of their clients in the world at the same time.

and this seems pretty hilarious on the surface. i was havin a good chuckle as eftpos went down in the store i was working at, chaos was definitely ensuring lmao. im in aus, and banking was literally down nationwide.

but then you start hearing about the entire country's planes being grounded because the airport's computers are bricked. and hospitals having no computers anymore. emergency call centres crashing. and you realised that, wow. crowdstrike just killed people probably. this is literally the worst thing possible for a company like this to do.

crowdstrike was kinda on the come up too, they were starting to become a big name in the tech world as a new face. but that has definitely vanished now. to fuck up at this many places, is almost extremely impressive. its hard to even think of a comparable fuckup.

a friday evening simultaneous rollout boot loop is a phrase that haunts IT people in their darkest hours. it's the monster that drags people down into the swamp. it's the big bag in the horror movie. it's the end of the road. and for crowdstrike, that reaper of souls just knocked on their doorstep.

[apatheticsunday]

Gotham TikTok

AKA "Danny moves to Gotham and records TikToks with absolutely deranged captions. He films Get Ready with Me in Gotham videos, fit checks, and even A Day in the Life of a Ghost in Gotham! Except everybody is freaking the fuck out in the comments" prompt idea!

No, you don't understand, I'm obsessed. Like, what if Danny's idea of "safe" is just... anything that doesn't actively try to kill him? So Metropolitians, Star City, and Central City citizens are literally biting their nails and sweating bullets every time he posts, because what if he gets merc'd by the "Eight Heads in a Duffel Bag" Red Hood?? And that's one of the nicer villains in Gotham. And Danny's just like wow, this place is niiiiiice, I haven't even been murdered yet!

Maybe Jazz took a 12-year-old Danny to Gotham to escape their parents. Gotham's cheap, dirty, and doesn't ask questions: it's the best place to go to disappear because damn near half the city's population are either super villains, hostages, dead, or vigilantes. She gets a job at an understaffed hospital as a clinical psych intern. She enrolls Danny for online schooling because she's scared a public high school would be too easy for their parents to track.

Which leaves Danny alone for hours. He makes a TikTok account called "Danny Phantom" because, c'mon, he's a kid. And, like most kids, he doesn't really comprehend the idea of a digital footprint or that his account is public, accessible by literally anybody.

He's also a little shit. So, the first TikTok he uploads is of a man getting carjacked, but the caption reads: love to see people helping each other. remember it's always okay to ask for help! it's okay, I don't know how to parallel park, either :)

And you just see this guy in a mask shove a businessman away from his car, gesturing with his gun, before getting into the driver's seat. Except the car is parallel parked so the carjacker just slowly inches back and forth between a Prius and a Honda until he can wedge himself out of the parking space. And then gets stuck in stand-still traffic. The TikTok goes viral. It's talked about on the Gotham news and Gothamites are losing their shit, pointing out the exact moment you can see the carjacker start to soundlessly cuss through the car's windshield or the way the businessman is just... standing on the side of the road, watching with a deadpan look.

Danny doesn't know about it being on the news, but he sees all the comments, likes, reposts, and feels something. He wonders if this is what Ember feels every time people listened to her music. So, he keeps posting. Usually, it's short three-second videos of a hilariously unexpected situation with an even more deranged caption. But then he's accidentally caught in the reflection of a store front while recording and doesn't know, posts it like he always does; only for this TikTok to go viral, too. Because "Danny Phantom" is a child??

He doesn't notice the shift in his comments, but the public opinion quickly changes from wow, Gothamites are just like that huh lol to what the FUCK, kid, get inside!!! anytime he posts.

Except Danny never gets hurt. Even in the most dangerous situations, when you'd think this kid is a goner for sure, he's just happily yapping in the background. He's so different from Gothamites because he lacks that dead-eyed, despair-inducing aura of someone who's lived in a hellmouth their whole lives. (A couple people post that Danny kind of reminds them of Golden Boy Brucie Wayne, all air-headed and unrealistically optimistic, and suddenly there's memes of "what happens when you've never gotten shot in Gotham" or "how i act when Commish Gordie accuses me of shoplifting again" with them side-by-side.)

And then Danny's posts go viral again and again. Danny doing a fit check with a blond-haired woman with a checkered outfit, she ruffles his hair and kisses him on the cheek. A picture of him wearing an old jean jacket with a bright red lipstick smear on his cheek is trending for weeks. Spoiler, fully suited up in an all-purple vigilante attire, and him shoving gas station hotdogs in their mouths. He even has videos of him clearly in Killer Croc's lair, with comments of are you in the sewers??? DANNY??? and he responds, no, i'm in mom & dad's basement :) (Waylon Jones is actually sitting behind him in one of the videos, intently watching a TV show on an iPad.)

Everybody adores Danny - Rogues, Gothamites, even the Bats. (There's at least six videos of Nightwing teaching Danny how to do backflips, handstands, and other acrobatic moves. Even the youngest Robin has been caught on camera quietly talking with Danny, a shocking lack of violence that left half the city's population suffering from cuteness aggression for the kids.)

So, yeah, Danny belongs to Gotham.

But the internet is widely accessible and Danny made it so, so easy to find him. Jazz obviously didn't know he was posting videos of himself publicly; she was too tired after back-to-back 12 hour shifts at the hospital that she hadn't even checked social media in months. Otherwise, she would've told him to be careful, to never show his face or post his real name on the internet. Then again, Jazz would never have expected all of Gotham (and Superman himself, totally endeared by the kid after Kon and Jon showed him a couple TikToks) would beat the absolute shit out of anybody going after Danny.

Imagine GIW's surprise when they track down Amity's former residential Ghost only to find an entire city frothing at the mouth to protect their Phantom.

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[prettyboykatsuki]

keel | sylus (qin che)

♡ tags ; afab + fem!reader, gendered language (good girl, sweet girl) , the use of kitten like one time, praise kink heavy, domestic sex, unprotected sex, fingering, loverboy sylus, 18+

♡ wc ; 1.8k

♡ a/n ; stuck in my bkg draft so i tried my hand at sylus. not sure how i did im sorry sylus fans </3 pls forgive me if the characterization isn't up to par.

♡ synopsis ; sylus likes fueling your praise kink when the mood strikes.

It's easy to miss the way Sylus is sweet on you.

He does that on purpose. It's a secret. One he promises to keep tucked between the creased edges of his longing. No one knows the depth of his affection, the weight of it, the truth of of it—except Sylus alone.

There is a laundry list of reasons it's like this. Filled with calculated consideration and logical outcomes.

Less reasonably but more truthfully - it's also in his nature. Dragons are known for hoarding their precious belongings.

What could be more precious, more worthy of guard than his love for you?

He doesn't even think he's all that good at hiding it, truthfully. If you catch him at the right time- you'd see it written all over his face. Etched into his features, in the sway of every motion and lasting seconds of every glance.

Of all people, you seem to know the least how much Sylus utterly adores you. At least, you pretend that's the case.

He can't be entirely sure why that is. Or rather—he isn't sure why it's like that even now. Your first reactions to him were warranted, he knows that.

But it's different now. Most of your misunderstandings resolved and your disagreements settled—even without the memories of past, you should know it clearly, right? How much he adores you?

You do know. You can't not know. Not with the way Sylus treats you.

It's almost like you want to avoid the subject all together. Like you're trying not to linger on it too long, or think about it too hard - afraid of what will happen if you do. Each time Sylus makes you face it, you turn away—chin tucked, eyes screwed close, embarrassed. As if the very presence of his love for you is enough to make your face burn. It threatens to swallow you up.

If he didn't find it so horribly loveable, he might venture to call it troublesome.

He likes it about you though, like he likes everything else about you.

Sylus likes to meet you where you are. Where you're sarcastic and easily frustrated, he's patronizing and relaxed. Knowing you get shy so easily when his affection is more overt, he'll push but never far enough to really upset you. He treads carefully, rides the line until you come to him willingly. Always asks, always waits. He's patient like that, especially with you.

Sylus likes crooning about you being catlike - but there's truth in it. It's part of why he's good at handling you. Just like he knows not to move when a cat settles in his lap, Sylus knows not to push you by coming onto strong when you're not asking for it.

(It gives him the same feeling of accomplishment when you come to him first.)

It's rare that Sylus gets to spoil you for all the reasons above.

Spoil you in the overbearing, affectionate sense at least. He usually curbs that desire through spending money on you - but there's something more he's after.

When you come to him wanting it—there's not a single part of him that thinks of refusing. He couldn't even if he tried.

That's why, when you come barreling down his bedroom door and demanding to be fucked - Sylus can only really think to be amused.

You're feeling lazy, and somewhat bold. It's a good deal for him, anyhow.

A single hand cups the back of your thighs as you stand on your knees - straddling Sylus with your hands resting at his at his shoulders. Sylus presses his forehead just underneath your sternum as his other hand focuses on stretching you out.

You let out a soft breath as Sylus scissors his fingers open inside of you. You feel warm around him, wet and slick and inviting. It makes his cock twitch, almost guilty with his desire.

"Feeling alright, sweetheart?"

You open your eyes and look down at Sylus. He smiles at you, head tilted as you frown at him. "I'm fine. But you're taking too long. Want you to—"

"I like letting you have your way but I'm afraid I won't budge on this one," Sylus says, cooing. He presses a chaste kiss to your stomach, adding another finger inside of you. You whine audibly, knees weakening in his grasp. Sylus laughs.

"Awfully worked up today aren't you, kitten?"

"So what if I am?" You spit with familiar hostility he's come to love.

"Now, now - I didn't say it was bad, so don't be that way, hm? You were being so sweet a second ago,"

"I'm always sweet," You say plainly. Sylus laughs harder than he should, and you glare at him with a pronounced frown.

His eyes twinkle with amusement. "That so?"

Your frown deepens. "Yeah."

Your reply comes out firm in a way that makes his chest tight. He stares up at you bemused. "Sure, then. Is there any reason my sweet girl is in particular mood?"

You clench down on his fingers. His brows raise, the grip on his shoulders getting tighter.

"Don't say anything," You hiss. He shrugs.

"There's no shame in it," Sylus says smoothly. "If there's anything you want, you just have to ask. No need for your pride to get in the way, right?"

Your face twists. It's cute, watching you go back and forth - more with yourself than anyone else. You let out a frustrated groan.

"Just—"

"Just what? Will you really be satisfied if I just fuck you?" Sylus purrs, curling his fingers up towards your g-spot with a deliberate control. You gasp as you tighten around him, growing wetter. He feels you go weak in his grasp, smiling as your eyes roll back. "What you really want to hear is how good you are for me, right?"

Your pussy flutters around his fingers again, an involuntary reaction - soft whimpering leaving your mouth. How unusual. How uncharacteristic of you to be so docile towards him, or about him - so openly lusting after such an affectionate sort of attention.

"Be a good girl and ask me to spoil you,"

Your eyes widen. "That's humiliating—,"

Sylus quirks his brow. "So you won't be good for me?"

Your face contorts again. So cute, he thinks. He can see all the gears turn in your head as you sigh. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your voice next to his ear - muffled by his shoulder as you bury your nose against his neck.

"Spoil me," You say, half-demanding. Mostly just needy in a way that makes his skin prickle with heat. "I want you to spoil me,"

Sylus laughs deeply. He can't help it. It's a heavy sound. You hit him when he does, clawing at his shoulders. There's no malice to his laughter though, though. Just a sort of disbelief of how deep his affection can run for you. Like just when he thinks it can't run any deeper, it does.

"You did well, hm?" Sylus hums. It comes easily. He's just voicing what feels like his thoughts are most of the time. "Good job, kitten. Should I give you something in return of your hard work?"

You nod into his shoulder. Sylus feels all the lovesickness in his body jolt, cock going stiff at the innocent gesture. He breathes out.

"Here," He pulls his fingers out from you, relishing the way you hiccup from loss of contact. He strokes his cock with sticky fingers - painfully hard before grabbing your hips and settling your weight of his lap.

You lean down to kiss him and Sylus meets you - a soft tongue kiss and gentle reminder that he's here. You linger there longer than he expects you to, but finds himself eager to stay. When he finally pulls away, he turns his attention back onto your pussy.

He admires your cunt as it hovers over his length. Clit swollen with need, sticky and supple and begging to be fucked - Sylus feels his head go heavy. He rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his cock, reeling at the silky sensation. The muscles in his abdomen feeling tight.

You whimper above him. Your usual moan softened to noisy, desperate mewls. Something in your demeanor spurs him on. He finds himself more eager than usual to sing your praises.

"You'll look so pretty sitting on my cock won't you, dove?" Sylus croons, his voice thick with arousal. A syrupy lust spreads through his limbs, makes his hold on your hips tighter. "Always take it so perfectly. Made just for me sweetheart. How could I ever think of anything else?"

"Sylus," You draw the syllables of his name out with a whine.

"Shh, I know. Time for me to kiss it better, right?"

You whimper at the implication. Kiss it better when he means to fuck you, it makes your hold on him even stronger. Sylus pulls you down onto his lap slowly. The tip of his cock nudging past slick folds, careful and thoughtful. You buck your hips - seeking tension and depth but Sylus holds you firmly in place.

It'll be better for you if you feel his cock inch by inch. It'd be best if you remembered it carefully. Every vein, every curve, ever angle - carved into your body from now to eternity. It'd be good if you got so used to it, your body couldn't crave for anything else - so you'd have something only he could give you that'd bring you more pleasure then pain.

You sink down on Sylus' cock slowly. Whimpering as the tip finds your entrance, stretching you open slowly. Your pussy accommodates to his size with effort - even after so much stretch. A dull pain that has you squeezing around his length tight the farther down you drop.

"You feel so good," Sylus groans. Your pussy squeezes down on him hard. "That's it. Easy."

Sylus barely touches you. When he bottoms out, you're clamping down on him so hard it barely takes him any effort at all to make you cum. One hand slides between your bodies, fingers resting at your navel as he rubs slow, precise circles into your clit - unmoving.

"Such a good girl for me," Sylus coos. Your whole body wracks into a shiver, as you swear into his shoulder. "Cum. You want to, right? Go ahead and cum,"

"Hnggh, fuck. Sylus I'm—"

"Let go sweetheart. Cum."

Your body coils in as Sylus whipers sweet nothings against your shoulder. You grip his cock like a vice, bottomed out - trembling as arousal and slick floods his length, a sticky sound filling the room as you rock your hips and ride out your high. Your breathing is shallow, trembling as your orgasm knocks the wind out of you.

You're pliant in his grasp. Pleasant and sweet. There's no way you don't know that he adores you.

"You want more?"

Fucked out, you nod your head. An almost docile quality to you.

"Sure, then, sweetheart. We have all day,"

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone).

───────────────

There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”