#but I needed to convolute a way for this joke to happen

[bunnieswithknives]

In which Angel does not know biblical lore

[gghostwriter]

Still Alive for My Lover

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The four times Spencer brushes with death and the fifth time he's reborn to find his way back to you

Warning: angst with happy ending || [Part 2A of Death of a Love Affair; Part 2B is the sad ending]

A/n: I did a poll the other day on if I should post both different part 2s for Death of a Love Affair and posting both won so here is one of the endings--the happy one! I actually scrapped my first happy ending idea for this (I dreamt about this plot just the other night) so like a maniac, I wrote and edited it in one sitting. Also he has been through a lot so I had to choose scenes that I think would affect his psyche. Hope you enjoy!

Part one || Main masterlist || Part 2B

The first time Death came close was during an Anthrax attack

In Spencer’s quest in solving the time sensitive and nation threatening case, he made a series of misjudgments that had led him to being exposed to the chemically engineered Anthrax.

During his months of adjusting back into being single and alone, he poured all that he could to his job. No longer were the cases viewed with a clear objective mind, they all became personal. Case distance from Virginia, where you were, meant nothing. He viewed each killer a threat to your existence. In the most convoluted way, this was him protecting and keeping you safe when he no longer could beside you. 

“Hey, Reid.” Garcia softly said.

“Reid, wow, no, uh—no witty Garcia greeting for me?” Spencer joked to try and lighten the mood.

She shakily exhaled her breath. “I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are.” 

“Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?” His voice trailing off at the end.

“Anything.”

“I, uh-I know I can’t call my mom without uh—“ he cleared his throat. “Without alerting everyone at her hospital and I can’t call Y/N since—since it’s protocol and we broke up.”

She paused, nodding her head. “What do you need?”

“I-I need you to record messages for them, in case anything happens to me.”

“Oh, nothing’s going to happen to you,” she tried to be optimistic. “You’re gonna—brilliantly find out who did this and we’re gonna treat this strain.”

He sighed with a slight smile on his face. “I hope you’re right, but if you’re not, I just—I really want to make sure that they hear my voice.” 

“Ok, just give me a second.” The taps from her keyboard echoing in the background.

“Are you ready?” Spencer asked.

“Ready.”

“Hi, Mom. This is Spence. I just, um-I just really want you to know that I love you and—i need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son.” His tone fluctuating from holding back tears. “Y/N, I know we broke up months ago but—I need you to know that I love you and that I’m sorry—” A shiver passed through his body, a sign of his fever escalating. “Sorry for pushing you down in my list of priorities—should have done better. I don’t resent you for leaving me and if—if this is my last message, I want you to know you’re one of the last things on my mind, Angel.” 

The thought of you finding out through the news that an FBI agent had died or worse, not finding out at all, sent him into a tailspin. You were a worrier and Spencer didn’t want you to question your judgement of breaking it off with him and drown in the not knowing, what ifs of it all. He wondered where you were at that very moment as he crept closer and closer to Death’s door. Were you wallowing still? Maybe out for brunch with your friends or a date—his breathing stuttered at the thought. He tried and failed to imagine you smiling at a faceless man in front of you, preening under your attention. Who wouldn’t? He shook his head as an effect to bring him back to the present.

The pause made Garcia panic. “Reid?”

“I-I gotta go.” 

Click.

***

The second time was when Maeve died

Spencer thought he was finally going to get it right with Maeve but it was false hope, his speculation far from the truth because Maeve—his second chance in love was dead, killed right before his very eyes. He loved her, truly did even without knowing what she looked like—not in the encompassing way he loved you, no, but Maeve still carved a space in his heart that was one filled by you. She was comfort and a healing balm for the pain of losing you.

He associated navigating life with you as something like entering a luscious forest. With you leading the way though the beautiful greenery and kind animals—a fairytale kind of love. But when you let go of his hand, the forest turned dark and the animals turned into monsters that haunt his every move. Maeve was a cabin in those woods, lighted and warm with a fireplace—a respite for his lost and terrified being. He knew what was out there but housed in her presence, he felt safe and believed himself ready to defend his newfound solace. He was wrong, the security was temporary. His shelter torn down and taken away, leaving him back out in the woods with no light or guiding star to see him through. 

Curling into himself on the floor beside his bed with ‘The Narrative of John Smith’, the copy that Maeve gifted, tucked to his chest, uncaring of the the pathogens that it can carry, a folded piece of paper under the dresser caught his eye. He stretched his hand, feeling the settled dust on its surface scatter, and pulled it into the light. Gingerly, he opened the yellowing sheet and found himself staring at your handwriting—a note that he had never seen before.

He once asked about your penchant for leaving hand written notes for him to find. You shrugged then and nonchalantly called it a treasure hunt for him to partake in. During the times passed, he’d encounter lingering, forgotten notes from you all over his apartment. In his cupboard, pushed in the dark recesses, in his rarely worn patterned coat, and slotted in between the books on his bookshelf. He thought he had found them all but here was one left unread as if it knew when to make its presence known. As if it knew that he needed a sliver of light to guide him home.

Spence,

I’m not sure if we met at the right time, but because we’re both here, let’s do our best and if there does come a time were we must part, know that I love you. I’ll love you enough until we meet again. 

His tears broke free from his battered walls and streamed down his face. He loved Maeve. He was thankful for the peace each phone call had given him and although his memory of each talk may fade into the back of his mind, the relief and emotion she had given him will linger in his chest. He slowly got up from his position and approached his beloved shelf. With one last look at his book, he slotted it within the nook and walked away.

His love for Maeve will always be there but he loved you too and he thinks he always will. And when sadness and grief comes to pull him back under in moments of weakness, he unfolds his talisman—the note—kept near his heart as a reminder. A reminder that he has loved, was loved, and is still loved. 

***

The third time was when he was shot in the neck

Fading in and out. 

In—liquid seeping into his shirt and tie.

You were the only thing he could think of. Not the case, not the team, only you.

Out—sirens blaring in a distant background.

In—Morgan’s voice calling his name.

For the first time in a long time, Spencer was terrified. He was so terrified that death had come to collect his borrowed life without having a chance to right his wrongs. Without any contact and without any way to say how much he has loved you still after all these years and months. He could probably recite how long it had been, if only he wasn’t loopy from the pain. 

Out—muffled voices all around him. 

In—a gentle sway in the ambulance as it rushed to the hospital.

He wanted to tell you how much he’d learned from recalling all his memories with you. How much you had taught him about love—a teaching he could never find in books. How love was selfless and tenacious—just like when you didn’t give up on him early on—when it needed to be. How love is fueled with respect—like how you respected his choices and demands of his career, and how love—true love, knew when it’s time to go. 

Out—streak of bright lights passing him by. 

In—professionals dressed in scrubs and white coats touching him. 

Your face was the only image settling behind his closed eyelids. He tried to remember the crinkle around your eyes when you smile, the scrunch of your nose when you laugh, or the he arch of your brows when you teased him but all were hazy, as if he was staring into a deep depth of water that rippled nonstop. All he could conjure up was your face with tears sliding down to your chin from the hurt he caused. He was deathly afraid that his last memory of you were in pain. 

Out—laying cold on the operating table.

All he could muster to repeat to himself as he faded under local anesthesia was your name. Like it was a mantra, a prayer, and his own personal saving grace. 

In—surrounded by beeping noises and fluffed pillows.

Mind still hazy when he came to, he sent a thank you to the stars. Grateful that Death was unsuccessful and to have been given an opportunity to correct his mistakes. Wishing that somehow, somewhere your paths and his would cross again and he could tell the story of all his adventures and yours, and how he has changed, hoping once again to be worthy of you.

***

The final time was during his stint in prison

He’s changed. In the dark forest you’ve left him behind, the once scared and hunted by monsters had become the hunter. The anger and agitation that simmered near the surface of his every waking moment was something he did not know how to accept. He was worried about the new him and how you’d perceive it. There were no signs of who he was before and during you. If he’d cross paths with you on the street, would you recognize him? He hoped so. Would you still accept him? He needed you to.

Along his long route back to you, he grew thorns and horns. He became decorated with wounds and scars. His talisman—your note—had aged, just like him, and had ripped along the folds. His once brilliant mind—now in a haze from trauma, memorized the words. It was your writing that grounded him while he was stuck in the cell of a mad woman’s making. The slants and loops studied and the grooves and indentations caressed with his calloused, bloody hands. 

He loved you still, very much so, but with his change, it had also mutated. What once was compared to a fairytale kind of love had now been smudged with darkness and desperation.

He felt lethal in his journey back to your embrace. Gone was the boy who felt remorse in shooting an unsub between the brows and replaced with the man who felt no qualms in killing should safety be threatened. He knew he had to talk to someone about the path his thinking had taken but instead, he entered his home with a single-minded purpose, walking straight to your side of the drawer and clutched another memento that will buoy him through the ravaging waters of emotion—your engagement ring. Looping it through a chain that he now wears on his neck and near his heart, a symbolism of his will to see things through, come hell or high water, he’ll crawl home to you.

***

And his second life started when he left the BAU

Spencer wanted to see you. Once inside the building elevator going down, he fought the urge to dial your number—regardless if it was still even yours. He needed to know. To know if you’ve moved on after all those many years apart or lived just like he did—tried but unsuccessful, always comparing and always coming up short. The eyes not as kind as yours, the smile not as radiant, and the heart not as beautiful. Was it awful of him to wish for the former? Yes, yes it was. He knew you deserved happiness and support after all the times he had let you down, knew you deserved a life after him, knew you deserved a happy ending but here he was, hopelessly wishing that your happy ending was still with him. 

He didn’t keep up with your life as much as he wanted to. The wounds of his failure and the battle scars he received along the way were still fresh. He didn’t have the right to know—a self imposed punishment. Although Garcia offered to look into you whenever he would reach rock bottom, and he’s been there a lot, he refused. By returning your ring, the engagement ring hidden underneath his shirt, you’ve taken back his privilege and he respected your decision.

You deserve better than to have him contact you without his life in order. If you’d still have him, you’d get the best of him. And so for the past six months, he focused on himself. He gained his footing in teaching young agents, he worked on his anger and made progress with his therapist, and he got to know who he was again beyond being an FBI agent. And it was as if the stars took notice of the changes and decided to reward him.

It was late into the night when he decided to make a quick grocery trip for some perishables missing in his pantry. This was out of his normal routine and he was forever grateful to the impulsiveness that took over him that night ever since. It was what led him to cross paths with the only person he had once considered home—you.

As he was entering the store, you had come out in all your beauty, struggling with one bag in each hand. Whenever he would recall this story, you’d scoff and tell him that you didn’t feel beautiful then—hair in a sloppy bun, t-shirt all crumpled, and face bare from any makeup. He’d object as no matter what the circumstance, you were always the most beautiful to him. 

He cleared his throat then. “Y/N.”

“Spencer,” you breathed out, surprise painting across your face.

“Do you need help with that?” He asked, voice cracking at the end. He thought he outgrew his shyness, time in prison does that for a person, but here you were reverting him back to how he felt when he first met you. “I’d like to walk you back to your car, if that’s alright,” he added on as he was afraid of your refusal. The parking lot was dimly lit and almost deserted. Years of solving cases has made him hyper vigilante and even if he was technically no longer a fed, his experience stayed the same. He still wanted to make sure you were safe, after all the time away.

You hesitated before nodding once in agreement. 

He smiled, letting go of his breath he didn’t know he was holding, and reached out to take your grocery purchases. “Let me get these for you, lead the way.”

The silence was uncomfortable. Years of being away from each other has made him a stranger to you and you to him.

You crossed yours arms, a sign of defense, before clearing your throat. “How’s the team?”

He pressed his lips into a straight line, not wanting to spill every little change that has happened while you were gone. “Good, good.”

Silence.

“No case tonight?”

“Uh—I only consult now,” he explained. “I went into teaching.”

Your arms dropped, a sign of openness, and you peered at him. “That’s—different. I mean, are you happy about that?”

He laughed and almost felt like preening at the care that you still had for him. “Yeah, it’s nice to have a normal schedule for once.”

“Somehow normal and you being mixed together doesn’t compute in my head,” you teased, swinging your hands in a clear sign of nervousness. He felt good—glad that he still could read your tics. How the slight downturn of your eyebrow meant you’d table the information to ruminate on it later. How the little bounce on your walk, that wasn’t there earlier, meant you were accepting of this situation. And how you slightly shifted closer to him meant you find his presence a protector. 

As he was documenting each non-verbal cues into his memory, the back of your hand brushed with his, sending a jolt of electric charge. It was as if both your bodies needed a physical reminder that the other half is back and nearby. It was as if a defibrillator had charged his black and blue heart to life once again. 

You giggled. “Sorry about that.”

It was a cold night but each laughter wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, warming his weary bones that had been lost in the dark cold woods for so long. “It’s alright,” he stated as he watched you unlock the trunk of your car. 

Loading in your grocery in silence, he shuffled ever so slightly out of the way as you closed the trunk and rocked on your heels.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. It was the only way he could prevent his hands from reaching out and caressing your pink cheeks. He didn’t have the permission to touch you yet—not matter how much he wanted to. So wanted to.

“You look—you look great, by the way,” you stammered out.

“Thanks, you too—look great, I mean,” he stated. He wanted to sing out more praises on how you’d gotten more beautiful, more radiant, and more lovely but he settled on something simple lest he scares you away with the intensity of his feelings. “Do you think could have your number? You know, just in case you’d need help with groceries again.” A feeble excuse.

You smiled. The type of smile that was once reserved for him and he wished for it to still be his. Please don’t say no, please, he realized that if you do, that will be it. That there will no longer be any saving the tragedy between him and you.

As he was starting to slide down the familiar slope of sadness, you nodded. “I never changed it.” You unlocked the driver seat before facing him once again. “Spence—”

He basked in hearing you say his name.

“—I’m different now. So you’ll have to get to know me again.”

“I’m different now, too,” and while you uttered yours as if it was an apology or a forewarning, he uttered his as a promise. A veiled promise that he was now the man that you wanted him to be after all those years.

He reached his hand out. “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid,” he hoped you’d play along.

You laughed, clearly intrigued at changes that had happened to him. Here he was, a germaphobe, reaching for a handshake to a stranger regardless of pathogens. You weren’t really a stranger, not really, but he wanted to write a new beginning. The last time was too tragic and ended with goodbyes. This time, this time, it’ll be perfect, he vowed to himself. A perfect fairytale with a happy ending that he could share with his kids with you one day. 

“Hi, Spencer,” you reached out your hand into his, engulfing yours in his tight grip. “I’m Y/N.”

He watched as you got into the car, fastening your seatbelt and roll down the window. “I’ll call you.”

“Please do, I’ll be waiting,” you whispered out before backing away from the parking lot.

And he did.

And after a few dates, he slid back the ring that once hung around his neck, sitting near his heart, back to where it belonged—back to your fourth finger where the Romans once believed a vein ran directly to the heart. Vena Amoris, the vein of love. Where it will stay forevermore, never allowing time and the outside to separate what once was meant to be. Never allowing ‘him and you’ as separate, there was just ‘them’.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for threatening to get my best friend sectioned?

This actually happened 2 years ago, but last night he made a joke about it that kind of seemed like he might still be mad at me about it. So. Anyway, ages and all are written as they were at the time.

For context, my (18m) mom took guardianship of my friend (17m), called “J”, after his grandfather passed, a few months before this happened.

Not going into specifics, but J has struggled with OCD and an ED for years, and I suspect when he’s an adult he’ll probably get diagnosed with Narcissistic Personality Disorder at some point.

(Update from the Present: no dice… yet.)

A close family friend of his passed away and it caused his mental issues (particularly the ED) to get a lot worse really quickly.

Even thought my mom was technically his guardian, she kind of relied on me to keep tabs on him because he’s usually pretty honest with me compared to other people. Like, if he’s not doing well, I have the best chance of finding that out.

So. His family friend dies, he gets worse, I report all of this back to my mom, who starts trying to get some sort of more intensive treatment lined up for him (difficult and time consuming because of where we lived at the time).

My mom tells me not to tell J, because he “talks a big game” about not wanting treatment or whatever and she firmly believes it’ll be easier if he doesn’t have time to stress himself out about it before it happens. Okay. So I don’t tell J.

Somehow, he finds out anyway, and also finds out that I knew and had chosen not to tell him, but doesn’t tell me that he knows. (Convoluted, I know, sorry.)

I pick J up from an after school thing one night, we end up talking about pretty heavy shit in the car for a /long/ time, and after the conversation died, he put a hand on my shoulder, leaned over, and kissed me. And like not a short kiss either. It was like a 3 to 4 second kiss.

Context again, I realized I was gay and that I liked J in a not particularly friend-like way when I was 13. I never told him and never planned on telling him. I told him a lot of things but I intended on growing old and dying with that one kept nice and secret. Even if he was some form of not-straight, which I was 99.99% sure he wasn’t, I didn’t think it was worth jeopardizing my closest friendship with romantic and/or sexual feelings that could at best confuse him or make him uncomfortable or at worst outright disgust him.

Anyway. We don’t talk about it, I end up going to stay for a few days with a guy (20m but not really relevant) I’d been sort of seeing/sleeping with for a couple months because I literally couldn’t be in the same house as J or I would probably implode.

Fast forward a week, I’m picking J up from a hospital 2 towns over because he ran away (? unclear really, haven’t discussed the particulars w him and I wasn’t staying at home at the time) and ended up having to go to the ER.

In the car (best time to talk to someone because they can’t run away), he apologizes for kissing me. I’m thrown off by that, because he hadn’t said anything up to this point and it honestly wasn’t even in the top 5 things I was thinking about.

I asked him why he did it and he just sighed and explained in this tone of voice that, I don’t know how to explain it, but had just the right lack of empathy or affect that I knew he was being 110% honest.

Condensed version: he found out I was reporting everything he told me to my mom (still don’t know how). He was pissed. He was aware he needed more intensive treatment, and he knew my mom was aware. He did not want treatment. He knew I had liked him for years. He knew that I was relatively fragile about it. He knew that if he did something (like kiss me for example) there was a good chance it would break my brain and I would freak out.

He essentially kissed me to decommission me for a few days so he could formulate a plan to run away.

FINALLY we have arrived at the AITA part.

After hearing all this, I tried very hard to come up with something rational to say, but ended up saying (essentially), “You’re fucking insane, and I’m telling my mother you need to be committed.”

I know I wasn’t wrong to be angry. But I also know from past knowledge and experiences that he had a deep fear of being deemed “insane” or unfixable or whatever, and also that he was really afraid of treatment in general.

Idk. I go back and forth on whether or not I was out of line, or needlessly escalating the situation, by threatening him. It was a much bigger threat in his mind than it was in mine, and so even though I know I said it as a reaction to a fucked up situation, there’s still the idea that I blew it completely out of proportion and weaponized his own mental issues against him.

So AITA for threatening my best friend by telling him I was going to get him committed to a long term psychiatric hospital?

What are these acronyms?

[adorablegorilla]

Okay, so here's what we know about the Sixth Coil so far.

Most Tigers do not know the purpose of the Tournament, only regarding it as a bland affair they are obligated to participate in whenever the time comes. They do seem to know that the rumors of treasure are exaggerated at least.

The Sixth Coil, like the rest of the Labyrinth, is a prison, and whatever is imprisoned in there needs offerings to preserve peace. However, the offerings don't die. For whatever reason, having the offerings prove their skills in the Tournament is a necessity.

The first "convolution" of a Labyrinth was a conquering king of the Fingerkings.

The Khanate have history with the Labyrinth, as the Embassy of the Fourth City used to be located where it is. This suggests the Sixth Coil predates the rest of Labyrinth in some way. The Eagle Clan have also been creating devices that can impose Law upon Parabola during the Tournament, suggesting that whatever is interred in the Sixth may be connected to the Is-Not. It may be possible that whatever is in there is responsible for the Khanate's paranoia and distrust of all things Parabolan.

The surface powers are under the impression there's "just" tigers in the Sixth Coil, and the Keeper cheakily joked about it holding "a seventh coil." It's implied there's some truth to both of these.

Here is my hypothesis:

The Sixth Coil is a holding zone for the offerings, and further in is also a prison constructed for an original prisoner (this is the "seventh coil"). The prisoner inside is an ancient and powerful Fingerking. This prisoner requires offerings to be appeased, but it doesn't kill them - I suspect it instead takes something insubstantial fr the offerings in the Sixth Coil while remaining in the Seventh, as suitable for a Parabolan entity. There are tigers who have already been interred in the Sixth Coil in the past as offerings. The offerings specifically need to prove themselves in the tournament, perhaps because this Fingerking will only be sated by the best meals, or perhaps because those who are strong in the aspects the Tournament tests are able to keep it at bay until offerings need to be given again. Perhaps a combination of the two. The Eagle Clan are intending to fight back against the Fingerking by imposing Law upon its domain/prison, although this might carry risks in and of itself, because if defeating it was as easy as shining some Surface light down there it probably would have been done already, so the device likely needs to be able to select and create very specific Law.

This is all just conjecture, and even if I'm on the right track there are clearly gaps in my hypothesis - like the reason why the Surface powers and The Great Game are interested - but I'd like to hear what the rest of you guys think is happening in the Sixth Coil yourself.

[isa-ghost]

OKAY UM MORE HC WITH THE EGGS IF U GOT ANY (ANY OF THE EGGS)

I'm gonna do Richas because he's my favorite after Chayanne and Lullah :D

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Richas scares Phil a little bc he's a brand of wildchild he's never encountered before. And his parents?? For the most part are just fine with that?? Survivalist man is screaming.

If the Cellbit and Baghera rescue mission had actually happened, Phil would've seen a whole new side of Richas and it'd change his perspective a bit. Still an unhinged gremlin, but also fearless, determined, full of endless love and loyalty. He knows what he's doing and he does it well, he just needs adults to trust that he can do it.

This goes for Pac too, but any jokes Richas makes with his prosthetic leg make Phil lose it, they always take him by surprise and they're always the right amount of out of pocket to make Phil reel. It's even better if Richas removes the prosthetic and does some wild ass shit with it. He's made Phil screech before. It was a mistake on Phil's part, now he tries to make him scream on purpose.

A lot of "peak qsmp era" horrors felt centered around the Brazilians and goddamn does Phil think Richas is so unbelievably resilient bc of it. That kid is so happy go lucky and comes off so carefree despite everything that's happened to him or his myriad of parents and Phil just cannot fathom it bc he would've broken by now.

Which btw Phil thinks it's rlly fucking funny that Richas was collecting parents like Pokémon and every now and then he'd try to come up with a funny convoluted way to Also become Richas's parent purely for the bit. Never came up with one good enough though, being previously FWB with Fit didn't feel like a good enough pipeline. Richas totally would've accepted that reason though.

Be it through his usual brand of unhinged fuckery or genuine persuasion, I think Richas could've gotten Phil to try any Brazilian food or snack, even if Phil was like "there's no way I'll like that." I'm truthing Richas would get him addicted to smth besides Guaraná.

GOD Richas would've loved to spar with Phil. Phil would be far too nervous to go all out on the kid but Richas would absolutely love it.

Richas's tiny arms never fail to make Phil laugh. He just can't. All Richas has to do is Orange Justice and it's all over, Phil's dying until he gets the hiccups.

Richas would be the motherfucker constantly badgering Phil to go fishing if he was able to go back to the Hardcore World with him.

He's, like many others, is in the Phil Take Me Flying When Your Wings Work club.

Tbfh more accurately I think Richas is impatient to hatch in the hopes he'll have wings so he can be taught to fly himself. (And the heart attacks he'd give Phil then.... MAN)

I don't know where in the deep recesses of my brain this came from but I need them in a laser tag fight on the same team because Richas would THRIVE watching Pro Halo Sniper Tío Philza Minecraft absolutely obliterate motherfuckers.

Phil feels a teeny bit bad about it but he's genuinely surprised Richas didn't perma-die with how reckless he could be.

Phil 100% noticed a change in Richas post-Purgatory and isn't sure if it was because of that or because of a death he had around then. Whatever it was, he picked up on Richas seeming a lot more Fuck It We Ball but in a kinda,, maybe needs to at least talk about it to someone way. Not his kid so he didn't want to butt in or overstep, but he still felt worried about it.

100% thinks Richas is overall underestimated though. Or maybe Richas intentionally fools people into thinking such. But Mr. Angel of Death can see it, that kid's TNT in a shell.

[vendetta-ari]

this is an excuse for you to do ANYONE YOU WANT... but they have to be fem. idk its the lesbian in me- and make it sweet!

call me crazy but I'm doing emily again, a continuation to this <- (Word count: 600, short and sweet folks. short stand very, very sweet.)

Emily made it to hell, with sheer willpower and love for her girlfriend alone. being in hell was bad enough but it smelt heavily of rotting corpses and burning soot.

You couldn't help but widen your eyes when your girlfriend decided to just pop into your room in the hotel with a golden portal above her, still looking as cute and adorable as ever. still, this definitely wasnt support to happen- you wouldn't complain though.

"it smells like blood!" Emily exclaims, looking mortified. "And- and it smells like-"

You answer for her. "Sex, that's sex you're smelling, emi'.." a soft snicker escapes your lips. "how exactly are you here, angel? not that I'm complainin' or anythin' but- just uh...how?"

After a few moments of Emily adorably panicking that she was in hell; the literal opposite place of where she should be, you manage to calm her down with a few simple kisses to the cheek and murmurs of her name. quite the effective strategy! you'll have to pat yourself on the back for that one later, that's for sure. "Emi, relax angel. just, tell me why and how you got here."

Emily simply gives you a shrug, the real answer would he a convoluted lengthy and confusing mess to understand, and both you and Emily know there isn't time for that. and Emily doesnt even really need to explain why she's here, you both know very well. she doesn anyway though; "I missed you..a lot, angel." you cant help but find it funny that an angel, more specifically your girlfriend angel, call you- a devil, angel. it never fails to be anything short of hilarious.

You open your arms wide for your adoring girlfriend, she made it all to way from heaven for you. you! a measly devil. you cant resist making a shitty joke at her expense "so did it hurt when ya fell from heaven, angel?" you beam, very proudly.

Emily doesnt seem all that amused, she chuckles sarcastically. She quickly finds herself crawling onto the couch you have in the custom hotel room you were given. she snuggles up next to you, her wings unfurling and puffing out. "The room is nice.." She whispers, changing the subject temporarily. her delicate hand finding it's way on your chest as she rested her head on her shoulder "and..to answer your question, no it didn't hurt when I fell from heaven. I'd do it a million times just for you.."

You lovingly flick her forehead I'm return, petting her now twitching wings as you run your hands up and down her back "yeah, I love you too, ya sap..." you murmur lowly. in reality, you're just as much as a sap as her. acting like a docile puppy around her while everyone else faces your wrath.

Emily pecks you on the lips quickly and almost a bit shy, despite how many times you've kissed, she cant get over how amazing you look, her girlfriend- despite being a devil. is the best thing Emily's ever had. "I love you, my favorite devil." she mumbles as her eyes droop and her chin rests on your shoulder comfortably

You pick up in her tiredness, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as you kiss her forehead and rub her back. "I love you too, my sweet and pure angel."

Your sweetheart soon falls asleep on your shoulder comfortably. softly snoring and drooling, you decide to keep her dignity intact and not take a picture no matter how string the urge is. "rest up, my darling angel."

♡♡♡

IDK WHAT POSSESSED ME TO DO EMI OF ALL PPL BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY, MADE IT SWEET ASF ILYSM MWA MWAH MWAHMWA HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT ATLEAST SOMEWHAT!! (guys I hope I'm still semi ok at writing wtf I'm scared 😭🙏)

~Xoxo, Ari

[niobiumao3]

Okay separate from 'who is Clone X' let me make an explicit list of reasons I think it's not Tech.

This is NOT to say I think Tech isn't alive. He definitely is IMO. Just not as Clone X.

So. Problems that arise if this Clone X is Tech, and would require some sort of explanation or at a minimum handwave:

Why is Pabu still standing? The moment Omega and Crosshair get away, a Clone X Tech would be activated so Hemlock can ask where they're going. Full stop. It's been way too long and that hasn't happened. An argument here could be he has amnesia. This works to explain not knowing where Pabu is, but now we're to, why was this Clone X not activated when Omega and Cross escaped? He was only activated once the other one was lost. That seems like a huge oversight. An added meta-issue here is so now we have a Clone X Tech who ALSO has amnesia. That's pretty convoluted and honestly I don't see how that gets dealt with alongside our other awaiting plot threads in the remaining episodes.

Why didn't Crosshair know? There's literally NO way Cross wouldn't have told Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo that Tech had been indoctrinated and needed rescuing, that would have been the first thing out of his mouth. He clearly doesn't do that. Possible explanation: Cross doesn't know. But these guys are clearly trained in cohorts and groups, we see Cross being rotated through with them frequently. So if Tech is a Clone X he has to have been trained completely separate from Cross. This seems odd because now two separate Clone Xs have known who Crosshair was the moment they laid eyes on him. It also adds another convoluting layer to the above: Tech has amnesia, and had to be indoctrinated fully separately from Crosshair with a totally different group or groups. Certainly Tantiss seems large enough for this but we're getting to a lot of folding layers to make this fit.

Why did Cross not break while Tech did? Crosshair talks about Clone Xs like they have a 'choice', but ofc that choice can easily be 'convert or suffer eternally'. Certainly that was implied by Cross' no good very bad time. This indicates Cross didn't break and Tech did. The man who hobbled around on a busted femur and shot out a connecting hinge without hesitation nor a waver in his hand and had the nerve necessary to race against droids. Cross says he thinks his resilience is because he's defective. He could be wrong about that, but if he's not, okay then once again, why Tech and not Cross? We could go with, well maybe Tech was badly injured and had serious trauma. Okay so NOW, he has amnesia (to explain why Pabu is still intact) and a traumatic injury, which makes him susceptible to indoctrination. Once again, that's a lot of shaving to fit this square peg into the round hole.

How did Wrecker, Hunter, and Crosshair all fight him not realize it was Tech? These guys grew up together, trained together, fought in the war together, and Hunter and Wrecker have been with Tech since then as well. How would they not recognize Tech in a fight? If we want to claim his style has changed, that runs counter to the Clone X's per Cross' description--they're not mindwiped, their memories aren't gone, their personalities aren't gone, they're just indoctrinated. Their personalities are still there, they've just been distilled into True Belief. Tech would ultimately still have Techlike tendencies, yet showed almost none of them. For example:

This guy is athletic as hell and never slips. If you go back over S1 and S2, Tech is slipping on solid unmoving surfaces all, the, time. It's an amazing bit they do for him. This guy? None of that.

I'm only slightly joking when I say, he does not one single completely unnecessary roll or flip. Tech did those all the time. He was born to be extra.

He tries fruitlessly to use his suit controls for his ship, never once makes an attempt to fix them.

Why was the throwdown with Crosshair and this guy so very personal if it's Tech and Crosshair doesn't know, having never met him? The Clone X is busy echoing Crosshair's own words to Hunter from S1 right back in his face during their brutal fight. Chances, choices, etc.; it's the same things Crosshair said once upon a time in an uglier life. This guy is a Shadow!Crosshair, in effect, which really does NOT work as a plot point if he's actually Tech (because per above, Tech would have to have all agency and choice stripped away to become this--he really, really would). This fight is personal; this person watched Cross go through the program and refuse it. This isn't someone who 'heard about' Cross denying them. Crosshair would then know this is Tech.

It is possible they can somehow explain all of this, I just don't see that happening without it turning into some sort of marlinspike-worthy twisting of the rope to work in amnesia and succumbing when Cross didn't and Cross not knowing AND Hunter and Wrecker not recognizing his fighting style. That's a lot.

Separate item:

What if it's Tech and Cross feels guilty and isn't telling anyone?

My main reason for thinking this doesn't work is that when Howzer stunned the Clone X off Cross and over a waterfall Cross failed to react about it in any way. I just do NOT think that would have happened if it was Tech and he knew. He'd have wanted to capture him at all costs and hope for SOME kind of solution, any kind.

Instead it's 'let's get the fuck out of here after we talk to Wolffe who is being a himbo about things'. Not a single thought to that guy.

I personally suspect Clone X is either a Named (Dogma, Slick, Cody, whatever) or, a random reg that Cross went through indoctrination with. They both tried to hold out, desperately. They were both about to slip. This other clone did; Cross was thinking of giving in ('I belong in here'), when Omega announces they're escaping. She saves him from that fate.

[shesmore-shoebill]

consider: amanda flirts with angela in the most unhinged way, is half-joking bc she thinks she never has a chance but angela takes it seriously.

(as always, this is all in the fictional RPF universe and is not about/speculating on the actual people, even if im drawing from irl actions. At most its for the fictionalized versions of the online personas)

LOVE this concept for the RPF universe. I think I'm gonna go the angst route with this one bc I just- can't resist. Amanda in the position where she feels so strongly that the flirting and the comments slip out without her meaning to, and she's also so certain that it would never work that she just leans into it- takes it over the top. Constant. Wild and ridiculous, because she feels so strongly about it.

and Angela obviously is just kind of. In over her head because- what the fuck? Maybe she knows how she feels about Amanda and it just kind of feels like the universe playing a sick joke on her, because the flirting is so over the top it can't be real. Maybe she doesn't but she knows her insides get kind of coiled up whenever Amanda does it and she has to cling to her improv capabilities with both hands and try to play it off, bc if she thinks too hard about it, then- then-

So Angela doesnt really do it back 100%, or at some point, sometimes she starts bailing out of the bits earlier than she needs to, because she just- can't, can't keep it up as only a bit. Not when its just so much, and it seems to happen more and more often, and Angela can act, can act well, but its all just a little too real.

And Amanda, who is trying to not get her hopes up and is trying to outrun her feelings by treating it as a convoluted, extensive joke and doubling down on it as just a joke. Is, despite her best efforts: maybe dismayed that Angela doesn't quite reciprocate, or that Angela seems to be pulling away from the bits a bit. Even though this fake (""fake"") flirting shouldn't even matter, because its not real, haha, its so ridiculous. But if it were- at least when both of them were doing it, it was almost like having it, it was almost as good as the actual thing of- well- and now- and now-

If we really want to put RPF goggles on and use more recent thoughts we can really just. Linger on how Amanda always lunges towards coworkers for fake kiss bits and Angela doesn't stay put during those. Courtney would probably commit to the bit, I think Arasha would figure out a clever way to basically commit but pull some sleight of hand. But Angela pulls back instinctively because- no- no- what- she can't, not for a joke, not with her. And Amanda does it, just for the joke, just for the joke, improv is all about figuring out your partners instincts and calibrating for that, but then why does Angela pulling back make her feel like- that. Why does she keep trying. Why does it matter to her.

[sinfulequity]

Thinking about how what the implications are if "(Not) A Devil" is Mikoto's third trial song.

Specifically, about these two lines and how they contextualized the song as a whole.

It's preceded by these lines

My radiant halo is closing in around my neck It loosens when I lie, the “Mayday” I can’t call out Let’s cover-up in white paint, get lost in the part and play It gets easier when you lie go on, try it

And as we can see here, their lines are dyed in the others' colours, while brown/gold is them in unison.

(Incidentally, I decided to look up what patrician means, and uh.

That is certainly A Definition, when tied to Mikoto)

This implies that the angel's claim that they're dead and gone is part of the lies interwoven in the song. Isn't this a claim that sounds familiar~?

Mikoto: Please, forgive Boku. If you don’t… I’m sure he won’t be able to deal with this any longer. Es: “A sin committed by another personality isn’t a sin”... you’re telling me that’s how I should judge? Mikoto: Yeah. If you forgive Boku… I’ll disappear. Es: … Mikoto: That’s right. I’ll have to disappear eventually, anyway… Disappear, and take all of it with me. I… was born to protect Boku, after all. Es: You were… born for it… Mikoto: Yeah. If it’s for Boku, I’ll… do anything.

You see, I don't think that he will disappear?? We know that there's still a third trial. I doubt that Mikoto wouldn't be stressed by the prospect of being voted guilty for a second/third time. It would be one thing if it was a longer period of voting, or one vote equating to instant freedom. But the prisoners are fully aware of the fact that it's not one and done (and if they didn't before, I'm sure that Haruka's interrogation would give them that insight). As it stands, there's a very real possibility that the more guilty you get, the less likely you'll be allowed freedom. Furthermore, it's also a possibility that it's a two out of three system. Or, to draw on his relation to baseball, three strikes and you're out.

Mikoto would probably be able to piece that together, and even if he isn't outwardly stressed next trial, I'm sure the idea of that would linger subconsciously. You know, the thing that brought out "John" to begin with. This is regardless of the outcome of this trial.

A tangent, but the lines

this is just a silly joke song

(just kidding~)

(who cares~)

would also feed into the continued insistence that this is all just a dream/bad joke that needs to end. That, and this aspect of Mikoto's character that has been showcased repeatedly

Mikoto: It’s pretty tough, isn’t it? (laughs) Ever since I came here, so much has been happening that I don’t understand… Es: … You really… do laugh when you’re suffering, huh? Mikoto: Huh? Es: You don’t get angry. You don’t scream. You laugh, like it’s a minor inconvenience. Mikoto: Ah… I guess so. I might have that kind of trait. Es: … Mikoto: Usually, if you just laugh and pretend, things work out in the end, right? I’m pretty good at that. Making things work out to the best of my abilities. Es: Is that so… Mikoto: (laughs) …But… it’s not coming to an end. All of this. With things I’ve never even heard before, the whole ti—

His reaction to stress is to diminish it, or treat it as something ephemeral. Something that doesn't truly exist, just ignore it and keep going. Except as we've seen, it's not working in Milgram, and I'm pretty sure it didn't work in the circumstances before his murder too. And I don't think it will work as he wants, even if he's voted innocent this round.

I need to specify that this isn't a thing to sway the vote in any direction, just something I thought was interesting. And honestly, I may be interpreting it all wrong too! I'm not always great at looking at the evidence and drawing the right conclusions- sometimes I can convolute something that's really simple. Or to put it another way, miss the forest for the trees.

[maymeowmoo]

New episode of Smg4?!?!?!? Well I'm inna writing mood soooooo.... Imma review/analysis and share my thoughts on the new episode >:) ["SMG4:SMG3's BOMB CAFE"] If you're bored feel free to read this overly detailed analysis of a 12:01 minute video! (Actually ~10:30ish)

Analyzing time! ^w^/

Smg3 being so happy abt his lil cafe is very cute. I did not expect Smg4 to be so goddam sassy in this episode but I like that they didn't get rid of their rivalry completely since u know, after so many years it would be odd for it to just disappear even if they have recently been bonding so much u<u

Still I couldn't help but feel a bit odd? Like idk if Four just desperately wanted Three to ask him for help w the coffee or what but DANG was he super into making Smg3's life harder. At 4:49 Smg4 basically goes screw it lets make Three more miserable and invites everyone. Like let bro learn overtime we don't need a Kirby Lunch Rush but with Smg3! Also Four's expressions? Dude is being SILLY on purpose u_u He continues his nuisance charade with 6:22 ("How can you not even have the unicorn frappucino?"). Like dang bro how abt u calm ur sass down and stop provoking Three even more? He does get a clear indication of Smg3's annoyance (8:51-8:52 Smg3 says "Shut up." to Four also stopping him from making another sassy remark) yet still continues. At 9:14 (Smg4:"So you admit you can't run a shop yet?") Four gives his snarky comment and all I can think of is how he intentionally made it harder for Three to run the dang shop. [Note: Tbh even someone who owned a shop would have a hard time with Smg4's Crew lets be fr.] Just like I said at the beginning of this paragraph I am starting to really believe Four wanted to be involved with Three somehow and the only way he knew how is by forcing conflict.

Characterization wise what surprised me is how even after two instances of Three yelling for the others to stop fighting they still continue on. Idk I just feel like they would've listened tbh. They were very... hyperactive I guess? The characters do act kinda like they should but it still felt odd to me for some reason. Eggdog as always has the best characterization tho, man do I like that silly egg thing. Anywho this wasn't the only thing that felt odd continuity wise. I would've thought Smg3 learnt to make proper coffee before he started up a cafe? Especially since he literally lived in a STARBUCKS??? Like I just think he would've idk tried making coffee before opening a cafe even if he didn't make any during his time in the Internet Graveyard. I did make up two explanations for this tho! One is that the dead memes (Specifically the funny lil knuckles) made the coffee during his time in the Internet Graveyard and the other is that he was just too anxiety/adrenaline ridden to make proper coffee. At the end of the day these things aren't huge issues for me but as I said before it did make me feel odd.

Smg4 getting called out for his sass was necessary for me to like this video so imma glad it happened and he doesn't just get away with his behavior. At 9:23 the realization of his silly shenanigans finally catch up to him and that means..... THE SMG34 PART OF THE EPISODE STARTS YEEHAW! Even though Smg4's and 3's confrontation felt just the tiny bit forced to me (probably Four's fault) it was so nice to see them being softer. I also really like how Three doesn't agree to Four's proposal without making some convoluted reasoning as to why this isn't just two pals helping each other out and is actually TOTALLY just a transactional thing. It feels really in character! Oh yeah since I need to put this somewhere at 9:47 Four is like "I want to help" and like... you made it harder and now you want to help? Better now then never tbh ^w^/

Jokes -> The joke at 2:27-2:34 made me chuckle ._. and that makes me somewhat disappointed in myself (You want it? Issa urs my friend is so real). 3:00 is also a joke I liked, it felt very relatable (I struggle with basic human stuff like buttons on a coffee machine also u_u aww man). 3:28-3:32 Decent joke! 4:12 having a Gmod Three bang the coffee machine was good but the sudden Pomni/Smg4 reaction wasn't for me :v (It is good for Au art tho, I've seen the Smg4 as Pomni art hehe ;P ). 5:55-6:05 Nice joke ^v^/ (Smg3 writing '1 jar of poison for Mario' was the cherry on top tbh). 6:29-6:35 just like the joke at three minutes the whole 'operating a coffee machine being like dark magic' is still funny to me. 7:35-7:38 7:45-7:46 the music that plays when the rainbow (acid) coffee is shown is cool. 8:34-8:49 The whole Tari going coo coo joke is honestly pretty unfunny ._. I did not like it :v. 10:44-10:45 'Cleaned up everything!' is such a funny pop up to put here. Joke APPROVED!

Joke wise I think this episode is actually quite solid. The one joke I really didn't like kinda puts it down but ignoring that issa cool ig :D (6,8/10)

Closing statement -> Dude Four on roller skates working at a cafe for Three? THIS IS JUST A FANFIC AT THIS POINT... and I am all for it ;D

[Note: I have no idea why I wrote this but I felt like it sooooo... YEAH! >:3 If you have any thoughts abt this ep I'd love to hear em ;o]

[ot3]

I can't tell if you're genuinely enjoying Riverdale or not. like you're enjoying it but not because it's enjoyable or good?

i'm having a blast with riverdale. it definitely is not 'good' but it's absolutely enjoyable. In this context by 'good' i mean the show doesn't have what i consider to be particularly thoughtful, complex, or emotionally impactful character and narrative writing. but this is also an instance where i don't think that stuff is really the point here. i'm not here because i genuinely care about the way these events are going to play out or their longterm effects on the characters lives, i'm here because there's something just absolutely fascinating about everything this show is doing and the fact that it exists at all.

it does have some genuine strong suits. i think all of the actors are fully committing to the shit that's happening here in a way that is absolutely pivotal to it working. the show honestly just Looks good a lot of the time too. i enjoy the weird anachronisms of the aesthetics and character styling, there's some really fun color grading, it's got some really nice shot comps from time to time.

but more than that it's just really different from everything else that's on TV, while simultaneously being almost entirely composed of individual elements that are overdone on their own. earlier i said its the most TV per minute of TV and that was a bit tongue in cheek but i do honestly think its true. it's like they've distilled a specific kind of media down to it's most concentrated form and dished it back out, without watering it down at all by trying to ground it.

i dont really watch edgy teen dramas or anything as a hobby because its so not my shit, but overall I feel riverdale manages to feel very campy and honestly somewhat avant garde when other shows before and since have just been eyeroll inducing and unbearable. and i think its because its got this weird negative space of self awareness. A lot of modern media that Knows it's kind of ridiculous likes to do a lot of wink-wink nudge-nudge about how silly and convoluted it all is, making sure the audience knows that the writers are in on the joke in a way that rips you out of the story more than the events themselves do. but riverdale so far (keep in mind i'm only a season and a half in) presents itself in a way that comes across as fully understanding exactly unserious it all is while stalwartly refusing to break character. like a mime pretending to be trapped in a box.

i could say more on the subject but i feel like i need to watch the rest of the show before i can really lock in my broadstrokes conclusions about the nature of this beast

[afvall]

Whumptober day 1! Race against the clock

Nathan's T.O. is terminal :( and the whump wave starts in Oceania, baby!

Very mild body horror cw? It's really only alluded to happening in the future. I'll still tag it though❤️

Some sex jokes are made as well❤️

First x men fic, be mean!

Also ness is still dead in this one 💔

And title from the last unicorn!!

---

How can anything that is going to die be real?

---

Even awesome half-metal telekinetics from the future weren’t immune to the human body’s failures. Wade knew that he was the perfect candidate for all the cruelties the world had torn into his mind and body, the trauma and the cancer and the slipping mind, he was meant for all that. He was doomed for this life ever since he was born, the second he entered this cruel world he knew it was cruel and that that cruelty would stay with him his whole life. But he felt, in his cancer-ridden heart, Nathan wasn’t meant for this. Whatever it was that made it fine for Wade to suffer but not Nate beat him, whatever intrinsic value that differed between them wasn’t really something Wade could define and point to, but he felt it was there, and he felt that there was something far more hopeless and depressing in Nathan’s suffering. Maybe it was the way his smile lines interrupted smooth skin instead of indented and marred flesh, or maybe it was the way he’d managed to save his wife and daughter’s life, even if they were so many years apart from one another, maybe that was what made Nathan’s suffering worse than Wade’s.

Wade ran his thumb across the thin, tentacle-ish metallic string which crawled its way up Nathan’s collarbone, a strike of lighting which didn't vanish from the flesh toned sky it had impressed itself across. Nathan swore under his breath, the skin surrounding the metal intrusion tinted slightly redder than the rest of him. Wade understood that pain, the constant, ever present pain, that faded into the background eventually except when something put it under a spotlight. Whether the spotlight be from a flare up or from a time like this, as Wade drew his hand away from the fresh and tender metal-filled valley.

“Y’know, the tentacle sex alien STD or whatever isn’t as cool when it's killing your future boyfriend��� Wade’s voice rang out, sounding more melancholy than he’d intended.

“Where’d you get tentacle sex from?” Nathan huffed amusedly, bringing one of his arms around Wade’s waist slowly, as if they had all the time in the world to love another, as if Nathan wasn’t being consumed by the T.O. quicker than his telekinesis could handle these days.

“Have you read issue sixteen of Cable & Deadpool? I get that the authors going for more of a movieverse vibe, especially since it's far more contained than all the convoluted comic bullshit, but i really do think that Fabian Nicieza gave us something special there” Wade’s inane fourth-wall shattering rambles would usually help him calm down a bit, diffuse a far too emotional situation when he needed it, let him soften the blow of all the bad shit that happened to him and the people he loved with humour and his general insanity, because if he let himself feel all the devastation and loss in his life in its entirety, he’d be a far more broken man than his marred and spoilt skin let on.

Nathan sighed as Wade’s nonsensical prattling concluded, pressing his body against Wade’s and now wrapping both his arms around his waist in a way far softer than all his hardcore 90’s action porn comics would ever let him be. Wade’s arms ran up Nathan’s back, one sliding over the corded metal muscles and the other over softer yet still battle-torn skin. The world was so quiet here, in their apartment, in spite of the sounds of the road and street seeping into the drywall, and Wade would keep it like this forever if he could. Quiet. In one anothers embrace. And that little pocket of time could protect Nathan from the virus which consumed his body. Protect Nathan, the idea would be funny if it wasn’t for the disease running over his flesh and wrapping itself around his organs, and the mental image of the T.O. invading Nathan’s innards made Wade remember the scans of his chest displaying the red sections of where his cancerous tumours were eating away at him. And how he’d lost Vanessa. And how he was going to lose Nate now, too. The only people that saw past the mangled flesh and unrelenting quips and comebacks to the person inside, who’d stand so raw and exposed under their love.

“It’ll take years, Wade, for this to get the best of me. I’ve been controlling it since I was young, it just gets more aggressive as it grows with me.” Nate’s head was tilted down by Wade’s neck, words pressing into the ruined skin. For a moment, Wade imagined Nate as a little kid, already battling the virus every moment of every day of his life, and thought, certainly, Nathan didn’t deserve that.

“I wanna be with you forever” Wade says like Nate wouldn’t eventually go back to his present once he’d fixed all he could in the past. With a time limit on his save-the-world shenanigans, this might just be Nate’s forever, giving every last bit of himself to the world in this time before he’d have to go, ensuring something better for his family.

Life is a series of trainwrecks with only brief, commercial-like breaks of happiness. This break would be spoiled by the unrelenting and sickening pain which seeped across Nathan’s skin and the knowledge it would all come to a very body-horror-ish end, and body-horror was Wade’s thing, but he didn’t want it to be Nathan’s. He wished Nate could just parade that sexy robot arm around forever, but his forever was coming to an end. Wade would watch Madame Web on repeat while having to cut off his balls with craft scissors for all of eternity if it was in exchange for Nate’s health and comfort, yet unfortunately no cosmic being has presented the opportunity to him yet.

“All good things come to an end, but that doesn't mean they never happened, and that doesn't mean you can’t enjoy them while they last, Wade. How about instead of wallowing in our pity for one another, we can have a beer and watch TV before bed. Sounds like a plan?” alright Nate, you got me.

“Sounds like a plan” Wade pretended that the metal under his palms and across Nate’s back didn’t make his chest a little tighter than usual as he heard those words, and kissed Nate softly.

[h0n3yk1tt3n]

The origin story of my unhinged big bro Jake hc that exactly one person asked for like months ago

It spawned from an interaction with one of my friends during Pirates of Penzance rehearsals back in 2018. I made some sort of joke that prompted her to cover my mouth, which naturally I licked. She recoiled for a second before recovering my mouth and saying something to the effect of "Do it, I have younger sibling."

Blorbo brain activated and I thought "Huh, it'd be funny if this happened with the squip squad." The plan was for it to appear as a banter scene for a fic but that fell through, as did my mental health. I had decided that Jake would be the one covering Jeremy's mouth (projecting at its finest) and wanted to think of a surprising number of siblings for Jake to have that were spaced out in age in such a way that most kids wouldn’t necessarily connect them easily. So I landed on the line "Do it, I'm the oldest of five."

But Jake is all but canonically an only child! How does that make sense? THROUGH CONVOLUTED CONSPIRING AND WACKY CHARACTER ANALYSIS/PROBABLY MAKING UP SOME SELF INDULGENT BULLSHIT :D like i said, the origin was entirely ridiculous and was Not based in canon at the time, but I like to think Parts of it Could Make Sense Kinda based on certain aspects of his character.

The idea of Jake needing to grow up faster because he's on his own more often than not is solid on its own, but needing to take care of younger siblings too?? That's definitely gonna exacerbate the pressure to be good enough for others, especially kids that depend on you. We see that he can be serious and sweet when it matters ("I don't wanna do every extracurricular at school. I just wanna do yours.") but most of the time he doesn't take things seriously or responds to them in a childish way (big blowout parties to avoid being alone in a big empty house), both of which would demonstrate roles as caregiver and fun older brother to play with.

But wait, Jake says "the house is empty," during Upgrade. Where are four other kids gonna be? This is where it gets convoluted bc Nostalgia-Fueled Coping (aside from these kids having other friends.) So Jake is gonna have some other family that catches wind of what's going on, right? In the case of my fever dream, it's his grandparents. They see that this high school kid is Struggling™️ and just take the kids into their place because we can't have horses babysitting dogs right? So Jake should just move in with them and Be A Kid right?

Weeell now he's got a slight responsibility complex and has to look after their parents' empty house just to make sure nothing bad happens. And so that he can tell them whats up when they come home and only find 1/5 kids there. Featuring projected insertion of my friend's mastiff Alice that he also has to look after bc I based a lot of Jake's humor off of him + his sister ok I TOLD YOU IT WAS SELF-INDULGENT

But he's got a dog! He's not alone! Pets are great and all but they are Not a substitute for friends or parents.

So why does he get all reckless and start throwing giant ass parties if he's trying to be the responsible one? He's a teenager, he runs on hormones, poor coping mechanisms, and "fuck it."

Sooo where were the siblings on Halloween??? Out trick-or-treating :)

So they just came back to a burning house and a broken brother??? :)))

I know I'm tripping on EVERY DRUG with this but hey. I told you the origin. It didn't start out that deep. It just became a thought experiment that I got way too attached to.

[thequeenofsarcaasm]

What do you think are Geto and Gojo’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic?

I’ll try to make it short. (And probably fail so I apologize in advance)

1-What I adore about Gojo is how terribly human he is despite everything. That might also be his greatest weakness but only because he never truly embraced all that humanity. In a way, he denied himself the chance to be “weak” after Toji almost killed him and it only got worse after Geto (the one person who truly saw him for who he truly was) abandoned him. He “thrived” in individualism but where did that get him? Also, another weakness might be how tightly woven he is with that damn Jujutsu system . He says he wants change (and I wholeheartedly believe him) but he is the embodiment of that very system and its values.

RIP Princess. You shall be missed.

2-Now Geto! My man has many weaknesses. Whew. He lost his goddamn mind to fear and hatred, but despite that he is full of love (in a twisted way). He had that black and white vision of life that transpired in the way he interacted with others and yet he remains in a sort of grey area since he’s so complexe. The immense love he held for his family and friends was only matched by his hatred for regular folks. Remember in JJK0 when he started to tear up during his fight with Panda and Inumaki? 😭 Also, he disliked the idea of having to attack Yuuta, and yet so many other sorcerers (the people he supposedly wanted to protect) had to be sacrificed on that day. A reasonable sacrifice perhaps? Or a desire to sieve the popular further? I want to slap him (affectionate).

That man was the perfect embodiment of “my grandpa was racist as hell but he was kind to me and everyone in our circle so he will be missed.” and it makes him super compelling imo.

I’d also want to add that Geto had a sort of convoluted “selflessness” that wasn’t compatible with his job but remained a big part of his personality post defection. In reality, it was just a coping mechanism mingled with a saviour complexe. He needed an ideology to back his actions and lifestyle (contrary to Haibara or Gojo for ex) . The “protect weak people” bs made the job not only bearable but also ego stroking. Which means that once he stopped feeling good about being a hero FOR the weak (since he deemed them unworthy), he decided to become one for sorcerers and AGAINST the weak. That “us against the world” mentality was born from trauma and fear but also from arrogance and an unhealthy tendency to dichotomise(Gege cooked fr. Call Gordon Ramsey pls). I get it though. After killing the village there was no going back so I probably would’ve convinced myself it was a good idea to keep going until someone killed me or something (a task he “delegated” to his beloved). Had that massacre never happened, I’m convinced someone would have been able to slap some sense into him.

(I wish we knew more about his upbringing tho cause he was a master manipulator and a fucking hypocrite. I want to know where he acquired that skill lol.)

Btw, his greatest strength is that he was hot as f (I’m joking. Or am I?)

Final words on him: Beware of dogmatism y’all. Great men have been lost to it.

3-Now, I love the brat-brat tamer aspect of their duo sooooo much. Gojo was insufferable as a teenager (still is) but Geto was the only person he actually listened to, the person he chose to guide him. It’s funny that in Season 2 EP 1, Geto has to explain to him why Rico wants to spend some time with her friends before the merger but that two episodes later Gojo willfully extended the mission just because she pouted when it was time to go home. He clearly had a good influence on him. Moreover, I love how protective they are of each other. I’m positive Geto wanted to massacre the cult members but turned down Gojo’s suggestion because he knew Gojo would later regret killing them. Now, the thing that really makes my heart throb is how Geto always saw Gojo. While most people see him as a superhuman, a machine even (remember when Nanami said he should take on all the missions), Geto showed a level of care that was so strong that it changed him as a person. I will never not obsess over the glance Gojo threw at him when he asked him if he wasn’t too exhausted to continue the mission. That’s why he never got over that man. I mean, how could he?

It’s not exactly brief but I tried. It definitely could have been worse 😭 I deleted a few paragraphs.

Thank you for giving me the chance to ramble about my beloved wives. It’s a proof of love and I assure you that I love you too.

🫶🏾

[ciinelqura]

i’ve worked a blinn hookup into my post s3 headcanon universe and i need you to stick with me.

(this probably only works if you ship klaine but are not exactly a kurt ride or die)

alright so they’re both back in lima three weeks post breakupification and someone (kitty, brittany, maybe santana?) convinces some of the older glee club members + jake and kitty to go to a bar or something and when they get there they realise it’s scandals (that’s why i’m thinking it’s a kitty plot) but finn is so pissed off at the world that he’s like at least i won’t end up going home with anyone and regretting it, blaine immediately knows this isn’t going to end well for him but he’s self destructive so he says nothing.

finn and blaine are sad at the bar drinking beers watching everyone else have fun or whatever when someone orders them shots. turns out it’s sebastian trying to take advantage of the klaine breakup to get with blaine. they say fuck it and keep doing shots on sebastian’s tab who already left with someone else after getting bored of blaine and finn’s moping. they have a very convoluted drunken conversation and finn jokes about ‘giving men a go cause i mean… kurt’s usually right’ — cut to the next scene (a/b plot, just some other character and their shenanigans on the same night).

then blaine wakes up in a hotel bed and checks to see if he’s naked and he is then he sees a guy next to him he’s hoping at this point is sebastian but he turns over and yeah it’s finn and they both freak the fuck out. they reason that they don’t even know that they did anything and blaine panics because either way he’s betrayed kurt even more than he already had. finn realises he’s mostly straight and very much wants rachel and that he’ll wait for her no matter what as long as he doesn’t have any more nights like yesterdays. blaine becomes one track mind get kurt back and enlists finn to help so that they can put this behind them.

(i assume as an actual thing that i’m imagining happening in the show it somehow never comes back up again but they discus it years later and kurt and rachel mostly just think it’s hilarious)

[kelpan]

Another Sunny Chapter! Also, I must be finding a rhythm in my writing, as I've NEVER been able to get chapters finished as quickly as I have this month. Huzzah!

As always, credit for the Sundrop headshot goes to wwispie on Etsy/instagram!

May you all have a happy Halloween and a wonderful Samhain!!!

Enjoy!

Ao3: Petals on a Stream of Stars

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Act 1, Chapter 8: A Gift to Remember

Wednesday

12:30pm

Sundrop

Sun fought to keep the smile on his face. He knew it. He knew it was too good to be true. The clock ticked well past twelve noon, and here he was, all alone in a big empty daycare. No assistant, no Chrysanthemum in sight. With arms full of plushies far cheerier than he, Sun continued to tidy up, dropping the irritatingly happy toys in a pile without a hint of concern as to how they landed. 

His first thought had been that she’d gotten lost in the Pizzaplex somewhere. A probable guess, considering the common trend when mixing new staff with one convoluted building. But then, first shift had started. The kids came. Still no sign of hair redder than a sunset to come through that door. The odds grew slimmer by the minute, he knew, yet he still retained a modicum of hope. He’d keep looking, keep checking until he couldn’t anymore. 

Though Officer Vanessa made sure that notion left him right quick, flying into the Daycare the moment morning dismissal ended, veins bulging as she had shouted. “Why can’t you do anything right?!? You had ONE. JOB. Why the Board hasn’t just scrapped you two already I’ll never know!”  

Her cruel words stung, as they always did. But in the end… she was right. It was his fault Chrys wasn’t here right now, helping to clean and humming away as she’d been yesterday. How careless, how incredibly dumb he’d been! He should have known to check the lights before taking her anywhere outside the Daycare. Thinking ahead and circumnavigating problems was a part of his job, for fazz’s sake! 

He groaned, and covered his face. He knew what the problem was. He’d been too preoccupied with making a good impression to think of the potential dangers. Distracted by her smiles, her laugh when he made a silly joke with the kids. For the first time in a long while, his smile hadn’t just been a part of his standard dress code. Not even that one small hiccup at the start of the morning could mar their working interactions. Although… did she think, since he cared for children and all their meltdowns, that soothing her was simply a part of his programming? That he didn’t actually care? Did she think him disingenuous, and that’s why she decided not to come back??

No, no, no, that hadn’t been what he’d meant at all! She looked so overwhelmed, that all he’d wanted to do was comfort and calm her down! Anxiety attacks were no joke, whether they were a child or an adult, it didn’t matter! Sure, his programming would have thrown a fit if he’d left her to her own devices, but that was besides the point! He wasn’t faking it, never!

He yanked at his rays, taking the surge of pain which shot through his head as penance. Stupid, stupid, stupid! The gears in his chest ground together, and an ache settled at his core. He stomped his foot, needing to release the distressed energy building up in his limbs. He’d messed up. He’d messed up, and he didn’t know what to do. If Moonie was here he’d know. He would’ve… 

But Moon wasn’t here, was he? Not in a way that mattered. 

His arms noodled at his sides, and he let loose a deep sigh. Things were different now, so very different. He could only imagine what all had happened once Moon came out in the storeroom. There’d been no time to catch him up on everything since his last turn with the body, no time to inform him of who Chrysanthemum was and why she was important. 

Stars, when he’d told her she’d meet Moon eventually, he hadn’t meant in less than half-an-hour!

Yet, Chrys had seemed more or less fine, sloughing the whole situation off like it wasn’t a major deal. Did she even realize how bad that all could have gone? He’d half-expected to find her sobbing and scared out of her mind for goodness sakes! To instead find her so calm and collected, comparatively, and all in spite of being injured was… disconcerting. Something happened between her and Moon, that much was clear, but what exactly, it appeared he’d have to find out on his own. Didn’t seem like he’d get many answers out of either of them, given there wasn’t a single mention of the incident in Moon’s nightly report. How was he supposed to make things right if he didn’t know what went wrong??

Frustrating! Stubborn! Unhelpful!

Still, fixating on what was wasn’t going to change anything. The fact of the matter still remained. If she didn’t come back, then yesterday wouldn’t matter much anymore, would it? He was getting himself upset over nothing. Better to chin up, and get back at it. There were still duties to be done, after all. 

With a forced vigor, Sun puffed up his chest, and marched his way over to the supply closet, grabbing a sticky broom to sweep up the remaining glitter littering the floors after arts and crafts time. Least there was something productive for him to take all these emotions out on.

He swept, and scrubbed, and scrubbed some more, losing focus of the world around him. With a head devoid of thoughts, he could relax some. 

Be good to get rid of all this gunk stuck under the railing. I’ll have to mention to facilities to get me more solvent, this stuff is not coming off easy. Crud’s been here long enough to become as hard as a rock. Maybe a sign might help, or an extra trashcan, give the parents a place to throw their gum out… 

“Sun? Sun! I am so, so sorry I’m so late, I overslept and I—”

“WAH-AH!”

He jerked, pivoting about like a startled cat. The solvent spray he held in one hand flew clear across the room, while the scraper he’d held in the other flew the opposite, hitting the wall with an echoing “clang”. His eyes shot open wide as he stared at Chrys, her face out of breath and looking just as scrambled as he felt.

“Chrys?” His processors lagged, struggling to comprehend the sight of her before him. “Chrys!!! Oh my warm summer days, it’s you!!!”

 He surged forward, scooping her up and spinning them around and around before holding her close in an all-encompassing hug.

“Oof!” Chrys grunted, though she didn’t fight his embrace. “It’s uh—woah, dizzy—good to see you too, Sun! Ack, not so tight!!”

Realization dawned across his features as his mind caught back up to his actions, his demeanor turning sheepish as he relinquished his hold and set her back down on her feet. 

“Ah, uh, s-sorry, about that!” He said, keeping his arms still for her to hold onto while she regained her balance. “Got a little ahead of myself there.” 

Looking her over, it was clear she’d had a heck of a morning. Sweat-slicked skin, hair frizzing, heart rate still within normal range but higher than her baseline. Her face didn’t express any obvious distress, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t bothered on the inside. Humans frequently kept their emotions bottled up. Did she have another breakdown this morning? His worry reignited. 

“Are you ok?? If this was because of yesterday, I promise today will be better, I’m so sorry yesterday even happened in the first place! Just tell me, and I’ll—”

“Sun!” Chrys smiled, reaching out in a reassuring manner. “What are you talking about? Yesterday was fine, you’re fine. Nothing is wrong.” She turned her head away, making a face to no one. “Well, me being this late is wrong, but it’s my own fault. I’m the one who managed to both oversleep AND miss every single bus that comes to my stop. Ended up having to walk all the way here. Least there’s a shortcut through the woods so it wasn’t too bad.”

“Walked?” He finally took notice of the multiple leaves that littered her hair. “Oh Sunshine, why didn’t you call? I’m sure someone could have come and picked you up! O-Or given you the ok to stay home. You should never walk around by yourself like that!”

She avoided facing him, and fiddled with a stray strand of hair.

“Well, uh, you see, that’s because I’m also a bit of a dingus and forgot to plug in my phone last night, so it’s… a little dead right now. Kinda the reason why I missed my alarm in the first place.” She flashed him an apologetic grin. “Stupid, I know. But I stayed up for a good reason, promise.” His eyes followed hers down to her hand, where she held a little white box, neat and tidy and tied together with a red ribbon bow. She held out the item. “It’s for you.”

“For… for me?” He hesitated, only taking the box from her once she re-offered it to him. “… Really?” he asked. Chrys nodded, smile certain. He turned it over in his hands, looking at it with thoughtful eyes. “I’ve… never been given a gift before.”

Shock filled her expression. “Wait, really? That’s… um, well.” She cleared her throat. “Uh, I guess I’ll be your first then. Thank you. For taking care of me yesterday after, ya know. It’s doing alot better than I thought it would after you made me get an ice pack on it so fast.” She pointed to her chin, where only a light sheen of purple could be seen, far kinder than how it had looked before.

“I… I don’t understand. That’s just basic first aid. Anyone should have done that.”

“Then you haven’t met “anyone.” Chrys laughed. “So, thank you. Now, come on! Open it.” 

Her tone rose to a playful tease, a permission he hadn’t realized he’d needed. One last look, committing his first present to his memory bank before taking hold of the end of the ribbon between two fingers and giving it a gentle tug. The bow fell apart easily, and with bated breath, he removed the lid. 

“Wha….?” His smile faltered at what he saw, reaching inside to take hold of its contents, the item dwarfed against the size of his palm. 

It was a friendship bracelet. 

An actual friendship bracelet. Not like the craft ones he made with the kids, full of dried macaroni and cheap clay. No, this one was made with skill, set with different stones all reflecting shades of gold and red, with a single metal charm in the shape of a Sun dangling at the center of the pattern. 

“The kinda orangy-peachy looking ones are Sunstones, the red ones are Carnelian, and the gold, sparkly ones are Gold Sandstone. I thought they suited you.”

He couldn’t speak. The coils around his voicebox tightened, and the rubber tubes that supplied oil to his eye sockets swelled. He couldn’t take his eyes off the simple, homemade piece of jewelry.

“… Sun?” Chrys’s voice drifted in from the corners of his awareness. “You alright? If you don’t like it, I can make you another, however you’d want.” 

Her voice, now small and timid, drew his attention like nothing else could. He looked to her, pausing before he spoke. 

“Like it?” He put all the emotion he could into his next words, wholly serious and full of intent. “I love it.”

The relief that flooded her face, crinkling her eyes and tugging her cheeks into a full-bodied grin, was a secondary gift he doubted even she knew she was giving him. His internal regulator which sat deep in his chest jolted and beat out of sync, sending tiny spasms throughout his endoskeleton. 

She really was prettiest when she smiled. 

“Oh, good! Had me worried there for a second.” She clapped her hands together.

He slipped it onto his right wrist, stretching the elastic thread holding it together to fit his hand through. It dangled comfortably around the ball of his wrist-joint, the smooth beads rolling around without catching or hindering his movements. 

“Thank you, Sunshine. Thank you so much. It’s perfect.”

They shared a moment of warm silence together, him admiring how the light caught against the stones, while she simply took in his appreciation. It was her to first break the reverie, eyebrows shooting up as if remembering something.  

“Oh, I, uh… I also made one for Moon too. His is made out of Moonstone, Blue Sandstone, and Opalite. And, you know, a Moon charm. Wouldn’t make much sense to give him a Sun one too.” She reached around her backside to tug at the zipper of her backpack, and pulled out an identical box to his, wrapped instead with a blue ribbon. 

“Oh, I…” For a rare second, he was without words. He reached for the gift with reverence, taking it from Chrys’s hands with the same tenderness as one would a priceless artifact. “… He’s never received a gift before, either.”

Her cheeks flushed a lite shade of pink, making her freckles darken ever so slightly. “I-I thought I should give it to you, rather than wait to give it to him myself. Who knows when that’ll be, right? At the very least, I didn’t want to come across like I was leaving him out or something.” 

She refused to look in his eyes, but by the way she tugged at the bottom hem of her shirt reminded him so much of when the kids would show him their pieces of art, he couldn’t help but chuckle, her bashful energy endearing.  

“The fact that you thought of him at all is gift enough. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure he gets it.”

Propping open one of the many pocket openings in his pants, he slid the box in, giving it a quick pat from the outside to ensure it settled in there nice and secure. Moon will be blown away when he wakes up to find this, he was sure. Shame he’d have to miss seeing the look on his face when he opened it. 

A wave of relief washed over him, a balm to the tension he held throughout his joints, and he let the feeling settle into his limbs. This was something precious, something new. For one, blissful moment, nothing really was wrong. He wasn’t in trouble. And both he and his brother were remembered, thought of, appreciated. Thanks… to her. 

This bracelet, at least for him, was more than just a token. It would be a reminder. A reminder that they existed to someone outside these walls. That they mattered. He couldn’t bear the thought of taking it off, and as he took a second glance at it, shining against his wrist, he determined he’d just have to be extra, extra careful with it whenever he was working. Maybe Moon would wear his on their other wrist, and they could both enjoy the gifts together! His rays spun, face lighting up as he imagined it.  

A loud “ping” from his arm shattered his daydream, drawing both their attention. Startled, Sun accepted the incoming page before checking who it was that was calling. 

“Sundrop.” The voice on the other end sounded terse, but not angry—a blessing, given whom the voice belonged to. He switched it to speaker mode, to include Chrys in as well.

“O-Officer Vanessa!” He forced a smile into his voice. 

“Last minute scheduling change. We’ve got a Birthday party this afternoon. The Daycare’s PM shift has been canceled, and all parents of the regulars have been called. Start setting up for a level 3, access has been granted for the additional supplies. Guests will be arriving starting at two.”

He stared at his arm, processing, before exploding in a fit of joy.

A birthday party? In the Daycare?!? There hasn’t been one of those in months! 

His hands flapped, and he jumped from one foot to the other. Oh, there was so much to do, so much to prepare! He’d have to rearrange the entire daycare, and pull out all the locked decorations from the storeroom! Blow up balloons, hang streamers. Oh! Grab the banner, that was paramount. They’d also need— 

“Sundrop.”

“Oh!” He’d gotten distracted again. “Yes?”

“Is that Miss Chrysanthemum I see standing there with you?”

He froze. It was all too easy to forget about the cameras, given their relatively new installation. He turned, looking toward the multiple points on the ceiling from where they might be actively being watched from, knowing full well the answer was all of them. From the corner of his eye, he saw Chrys look and find the cameras too. 

“Uh, yes, it is. She just got here!”

“Good. Before you get started, send her over to the security desk. She and I need to have a little chat.”

With a click of finality, the call ended.