#i feel i probably got it right one time statistically speaking

[thewomancallednova]

Okay, so Mumbo's HC1 video led me down a Joe Hills rabbit hole and now I'm watching his first season. And then I thought about how (IIRC) Joe did webcomics before joining Hermitcraft and that's how GenerikB noticed him, but surely he must have played Minecraft before Hermitcraft? Like, just because I like Neil Gaiman's writing doesn't mean I invite him to my Minecraft server, first I check if he's uploaded any lets plays to his YouTube channel, right?

So I scrolled down for about eighteen minutes and found the first Joe Hills video. And it's Super Hostile... Part 2! And it's not like Super Hostile Part 1 was lost in time, it's right there to the left of Super Hostile 2, uplaoded on the same day, but apparently slightly later. Somehow, this is once again the most Joe Hills thing and he even did it before he could've had any idea that he'd still be doing that twelve years later.

[auroralwriting]

the gun

spencer reid x genius!bau!reader

oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, they both reached for the gun, the gun, the gun…

"you just needed to prove to Spencer, once and for all, that you had all the skills to be the best agent, the best genius."

word count: 2.3k

warnings: cm violence, blood, enemies to lovers, kinda rushed im sorryyyy, fem reader slightly mentioned

a continuation of this story can be found here

Spencer and you always competed. He had an eidetic memory, you had a photographic.

The difference between you two was anything you ever saw, read, you held in long-term memory. Spencer’s, though, resided in short term. However, Spencer was also an autodidact, meaning he could teach himself anything. You also had a vast emotional intelligence. You had such strong empathy, you could detect any micro-detail anyone displayed, making you the perfect lie-detector one that even Hotch couldn’t evade.

Spencer was Jason Gideon’s special boy. Gideon helped Spencer make his way in the BAU. You were David Rossi’s special girl, him noticing your skills from a young age when he met you during a case. He guided you to make all the best choices, leading you to the BAU as well. It took a few years, timing and all, but you got there.

When Dave transferred to Quantico’s BAU, he requested your transfer as well. He thought you would mesh well with the team. More specifically, he assumed you and Spencer would become a genius duo; totally unstoppable.

Oh, how wrong he was. It was from the moment you’d corrected Spencer on some statistic he spewed, you both became enemies forced to co-exist on the same team. There was never a civil moment, always some fight. It was sad, too. You remembered the first time you saw him, you were struck by how cute he was. Too bad he decided to hate you before you got a chance.

Vividly, you remembered the most intense fight you both had.

“So someone with a medical degree,” Hotch muttered. “That’s got to be impossible.”

“It’s more likely that have a nursing degree.” Spencer replied. “We’d be looking at around one hundred eighty thousand people a year. If our unsub is a new graduate, that’s the numbers we’d be looking through.”

You shook your head, “It’s actually one hundred fifty seven thousand. Also, narrow it down to nursing degrees in New York, and you get around eight thousand. Eleven percent were men, so around six hundred. Lower it even more to those who don’t have any family members, most likely from group homes, you can get maybe seventy?”

oh, yes

Garcia clacked away at her keyboard, “My baby’s got it! Seventy two people. If we’re looking at NYU specifically, thirteen.”

Pride filled your system. It was fulfilling when you were able to get things right. Spencer, on the other hand, wasn’t too happy about that.

“You know, nobody asked your opinion.” He scoffed.

“It isn’t opinion, Reid. It’s purely fact, ones you should probably get right.” Your reply had Spencer clenching his fists.

How dare you insult his intelligence? His IQ was much larger than yours, you weren’t one to speak on that. “Maybe you should focus on the case instead of trying to be a people pleaser,” Spencer sneered your way.

His reply made you roll your eyes, “At least I can tell what people want. You’re oblivious, Reid.”

oh, yes

Slowly, the two of you began to go back and forth, your voices raising. Before the situation blew up, Hotch stepped in, trying to mediate. However, Spencer mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t just let go. It hurt, stung like a bee, and you weren’t going to let him walk away feeling victorious.

“At least my mentor didn’t up and leave me.” you snapped. “He’s still with me, he didn’t just vanish with a stupid little note as a dingy goodbye.”

Spencer had paused, face dropping. You read him like a book, you’d gone too far. He showed minuscule signs of distress, grief, sadness. The room was silent, no one quite knew what to say.

oh, yes

“Reid, I-”

“Save it.”

Spencer had walked away, leaving you to feel shameful of your words. Rossi just squeezed your shoulder. The man knew you didn’t mean it.

they both

Since then, it was like the two of you were on each other’s cases, constantly bickering and arguing. Now, you were almost subconsciously battling each other for the genius role of the team. Was there any need to? No, not at all, but your fights had become not a battle, but a war.

You stood outside the bank with your team. “They have hostages,” You identified, attempting to peer inside. “There’s no way we can go in. It’s a suicide-murder mission.”

oh, yes

“There’s gotta be a way,” JJ shook her head. “Maybe there’s another way in.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Derek sighed.

After a few hours, Will made the decision to go inside. You had to help hold back JJ as he walked in. Hearing the bullets made you sick. You physically had to double over, holding back the tears. It suddenly hit you how dire the situation was. You went back to the van with the team. No one really knew what to say.

"Did you see where he was shot?" JJ asked. "Is he alive or dead, Garcia?"

Penelope's breath was shaky, "I don't know."

"He was wearing a vest." Emily reasoned. "He might be okay."

JJ gave a smile, but it was one of disbelief. "Might be," She muttered, shaking her head in reply.

It was then that the team decided to go in. You shoved your gun in your holster, "I'll take first point," You offered. "Check and see if Will's okay. I'll try and manipulate them into letting me go to him." Hotch nodded. With your knowledge of psychology and your emotional intelligence, Hotch knew you could do it.

they both

"L/n, it's too dangerous." You heard Spencer say over the phone. "Just wait for me to tell you where to go in."

You rolled your eyes, "Reid, I'm not stupid. I've handled multiple hostage situations."

Spencer didn't reply. You liked that. This was the first time you'd be able to prove yourself without Spencer's help. This was honestly just a way for you to prove you were the better of the two. Your actions were motivated by the desire to be the best; a classic narcissistic move. You weren't a narcissist, though. You just needed to prove to Spencer, once and for all, that you had all the skills to be the best agent, the best genius.

Oddly enough, hostages flooded out of the bank as you made your way back outside. Maybe Will was alive and managed to get them all out. Once none more came out, you and two other cops began to make your way inside stealthily.

Right as you got in the middle of the bank, you heard Rossi's panicked voice over your comms, "Abort, abort!"

oh, yes

There was no time to reply. It all happened so suddenly. You heard the explosion before you felt it. It was hard to breathe. You couldn't see, hear. It slowly registered that there was a bomb, and it went off.

they both reached for

You had no clue where you had been thrown to. Everything felt cold, really cold. A loud ringing filled your ears as you slowly sat up. You touched your head, pulling back to feel stickiness on your fingers. Your vision was blurry, but you knew it was blood. You had to get out of the building. You needed help, medics, your team. Was anyone else in your team inside yet?

they both reached for the gun

A grunt left your lips as you stood up. You felt your legs give out under you, and you went down again. The desire to live was stronger than your physical weakness, and you stood up again. It was so dusty and hazy that you couldn't see. You leaned on the nearest wall for support, slowly using it to try and find your way out of the building. All that you heard in your head was get out, survive, get out, survive.

After what felt like ages, you felt a breeze against your skin. You followed it, hoping it would lead out, and it did. The light was harsh on your eyes as you tried to scan the area. It was then you saw Spencer and Hotch-- what was Spencer doing here? He was still at the BAU last you'd checked. Maybe the blast knocked you out cold.

Trudging your way over, you weakly called out. "Aaron, Spencer,"

the gun

Spencer knew he heard his name. He looked up from the blueprints of the building to see you, blood covering different parts of your body, your skin covered in debris and dust. You had limp, and your eyes were blown out. "Oh my god," he muttered, running over to you.

the gun

The genius took your in his arms as you fell into him, "How'd you get here?" you asked. "What's for dinner?"

Spencer took notice of your confusion as he allowed you to lean on him. He took your face in his hands, "Y/n, look at me. Focus on me,"

the gun

You couldn't directly look at him. Your eyes darted all over the place. "Where's Rossi? Did he go in?"

"No, Rossi's okay." Spencer leaned over his shoulder, "We need a medic!" He yelled, quickly turning his attention back to you. "It's okay, you're okay."

oh, yes

"I can't feel anything," you breathed out, "That can't be normal. Is that normal? Spencer, am I dying?"

oh, yes

Spencer shook his head, "You're okay, it's okay."

"I can't die," You softly whimpered. "I'm sorry, Spencer. 'M so mean to you, I don't mean to be."

Deep down, Spencer knew you meant what you were saying. The fear of dying without getting your true feelings out always lead to admissions of the truth. "I know, I know," Spencer smoothed your hair. "I don't hate you, I don't. You're going to be okay." Spencer slowly became anxious as he noticed the amount of blood seeping from your head. "Look at me, please, keep talking to me."

"'M sorry," You muttered, feeling your eyes grow heavy. Spencer's face began to fade as you collapsed in his arms.

Spencer felt his breathing grow heavy as he held you tightly. "Medic! She's-- oh, god, Help!"

they both reached for the gun.

A steady beeping was the first thing you heard as you woke up. The light was a blinding white, and you let out a groan at it. Your body hurt like hell, and your head was pounding.

"Shh, shh. It's okay, here, let me just--"

The white lights went out and all that was left was the stream of daylight coming through the windows, along with a lamp that was a warmer light. It was much more comfortable that way. You quickly guessed you were in a hospital. The beeping, white lights, smell of rubbing alcohol that you just identified.

"How do you feel?"

Spencer. You turned your head to look at him. His face held deep concern. He was holding your hand. "I--" You paused, considering his question. "I feel like shit."

He let out a soft chuckle, "Yeah. You kind of got exploded." That's right, the bomb.

"Oh, Will, the team, are they okay?" You softly asked.

Spencer nodded, "Everyone's okay, we got the unsubs. It's all okay now."

You remembered Spencer's words. You should have waited to go in. If you had waited, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation right now. "I should've listened to you." You stated weakly. "You were right. I was being stupid."

"Hey, no," Spencer quickly interrupted. "You were doing your job."

"I wasn't," you shook your head. "I wanted to prove myself. I-I wanted.. to show that I didn't just do victimology and simple hostage relief situations. I wanted to prove myself like you have." You stopped, sucking in a pained breath. You felt your eyes become glassy. "I wanted to prove to everyone I was just as good as you."

Spencer felt his heart break at your words. You both knew overall, he was smarter. It never occurred to him that your constant bickering was to prove yourself, and not to prove him wrong. "You're better." Spencer decided to say. "I mean, I can't relate to our victims, hell, our unsubs the way you can."

"Spencer,"

"I'm serious." He continued. "You're so important to this team. You-you push us to be better." Spencer cleared his throat, "You push me to be better."

You stared at Spencer blankly for a moment, "I never told you that I like this haircut."

Spencer gave you a slightly surprised look. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," You hummed. "It makes you look, I don't know, less like Einstein and more like, uh, a really smart James Dean."

"James Dean," Spencer repeated, "I've never gotten that one before. Are those meds talking right now?"

You shook your head slowly, "Probably the clearest I've thought in a while." You replied, causing Spencer to smile. "Why did you stay with me?"

Spencer paused for a moment, "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know we bicker a lot. Well, more than a lot. Probably several times a day, but I still care about you. I-I was.. really scared for you. I don't think I could forgive myself if I let you walk in there and you'd died."

"It wouldn't have been your fault," You tried. Spencer just shook his head.

"It would have been. I should've rationalized it with you. When I saw you, I just thought, 'What have I been doing this whole time? Have I really been wasting my breath arguing with you when we could've made the best team'? I remember when Rossi first introduced you, I was like, 'No way someone this pretty is doing this', when you should've been some model or something." Spencer rambled. He did that, paired with hand fidgeting, when he was nervous. He rambled as he played with your fingers.

You took a breath in, hoping for the best. "Hey, maybe we could, uh, go to one of those team based trivia nights at O'Keefe's?"

"Are-are you asking me out?" Spencer asked.

"Only if you're saying yes." You responded. "I, uh, maybe thought we could start over."

Spencer gave a chuckle, "Yeah, trivia night sounds good. I'd like a retry at this. Maybe we're, uh, meant to be more than just a team."

You smiled at him, knowing that a simple friendship wouldn't be highest point of your new relationship with the genius.

[endearng]

Brave

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: You're left all alone, but now you can think of some you want to share your solitude — and food — with. WC: 5.9k (I am so sorry) Warnings: brief mentions of Penelope's parents arch, grief and depression. A/N: Hello! I struggled so much trying to find time to finish this one. Let me know what you guys think! Feedbacks are highly appreciated! neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Honestly, hearing your name leaving someone's lip usually made Spencer eager to know what was going on, if it involved you — of course, he knew that you shared it with many people, after all, there are 8 billion people existing at the same time, so he could definitely come up with statistics regarding how many of them shared names with you. Furthermore, he worked with humans, dealing constantly with their data, names included, so yours could definitely be pronounced by someone close to him.

He just didn't expect to hear a chant. Something about you and him sitting in a tree as Penelope approached him in the bullpen kitchenette.

"What was that?" He asked, eyes wide, once he heard Penelope's voice. She snickered.

She repeated the chant.

"Garcia!" His voice came out in a squeak, frantically looking around. "Shut up!" It wasn't in his nature to be so rude, but he was desperate for her to be quiet, especially because someone could hear her.

Emily, apparently coming from thin air, creeped up on them. "Spencer and who?"

"G—ah! Nobody!" He jumped from where he was standing, not expecting someone else to join them anytime soon, almost spilling his coffee.

"I caught our boygenius with a friend." Penelope announced, proud of her discovery.

"What?" Emily asked, shocked.

Once Penelope noticed that she revealed something she certainly should not have and she saw the look on his face, she slapped her hand over her mouth, wide eyes looking at Spencer in an apologizing manner. She was just so excited to finally see Spencer in that scenario that she basically ignored his wishes to keep it — whatever it was — a secret. "Thanks a lot, Garcia," he deadpanned.

"What? What friend?" Emily pressed, a smile on her lips. Not teasing, surprised, perhaps, but she didn't have any traces of mockery in her expression or tone. She looked... proud?

Penelope had started feeling bad for running her mouth too easily, but once she saw Spencer's lips turn upwards in a small grin, she gushed, "Yes!!! I went over to her house to give her daughter's gift, I am her godmother, after all... So I was knocking on her door—”

"More like banging." He interrupted.

"And from my spot, I see our boygenius not so subtly trying to disguise something. Do not look at me like that," she squinted her eyes and pointed her finger at him threateningly when he opened his mouth to speak. "You were stuttering and basically left her all by herself because you got too embarrassed."

"Oh, no, Reid..." Emily couldn't help her remark, pursing her lips.

"What? What did I do?"

Truth was, Spencer was replaying the interaction in his head the entire time after Penelope had left. He had stood there, at the sidewalk, dumbfounded and mortified by her remarks in your presence, not really knowing if he should go back to your apartment. He was definitely enjoying getting to know you, but it just felt wrong to go back and act as if nothing had happened because he had just gotten awfully weird. The man had struggled with himself, his thoughts conflicting between going back to yours or keeping to himself in his apartment. He decided on the latter, not willing to put himself through more embarrassment.

What if you didn't like him like that and you thought he was a creep now? What if you just saw him as a friend?

Worse, as a neighbor?

"You should've stayed. I know you probably got nervous, but what if she got the wrong idea once you dashed out the door when you were seen with her?" Emily inquired, but Penelope, despite not being a profiler, understood right away that she was onto something.

Her eyes glimmered.

Spencer's stomach dropped. "Oh, no..." he whispered softly. "I have to go."

And he basically fled the room.

The women exchanged playful glances.

"I knew it!" Penelope stated. She turned her head in the direction he ran to. "For a profiler, for a genius, he sometimes is so dumb."

"And just like that," Emily snapped her fingers, "IQ of 187 slashed down to 60." she snickered. Reaching for the coffee pot and pouring some of the liquid into her mug, she remarked, "There is definitely something," Emily laughed. "Do you think we should help him?"

"Don't worry," she winked at her friend, "I've got a few ideas."

Later that day, you got a call from Garcia. You were in your car, taking deep breaths and willing yourself not to cry out of frustration. The work shift had finished, officially, nearly an hour ago, but your boss held you back to discuss some projects that you were involved in. You had to call your dad to ask him kindly to pick up your daughter at school — you didn't see it coming, so you called him after about an hour of Olivia waiting by herself at school.

The unexpected meeting made you incredibly late and it turned your mood sour, because you always loved the car rides with Olivia after you picked her up, not to mention that she probably thought you had forgotten about her. Never. You had just started the engine when you heard your phone ring. You put her on speaker as you drove to your parents to pick up your daughter, who was now there. "Hi, Pen!" You greeted.

Despite the disaster, a smile crept up on your face when you remembered the last interaction you had with her. With Spencer…

"Hi, sweetcheeks!" She said back. You could hear the faint sounds of computers and keys being pressed in the background. "How are you?"

"I'm good, I guess. I had a surprise meeting so I couldn't get Olivia," you replied, eyes on the road ahead of you. "How are you, Pen?"

"Oooh, I'm sorry that happened. I know you're probably berating yourself for it, but it's okay, it wasn't your fault." She tried to lighten up.

"Yeah..." You muttered, a certain tightness in your chest you couldn't keep at bay.

"She'll understand. You are doing a fantastic job showing her the real world." Penelope comforted you. You blinked away emotional tears, grateful that the roads were calm and you weren't a reckless driver. You couldn't really speak, so she continued, "Actually, she is the main reason I called you." She revealed, making you chuckle wetly. "I really miss Olivia and I'm truly sorry I missed her birthday. I haven't been the best godmother in the world..."

"Don't worry about it." You dismissed it. "I always tell her you're a tech fairy who does magic with computers to save people. A real life hero," you chuckled. "She understands it." You whispered. Trying to keep that feeling in. Not sure if you were speaking to her or to yourself.

"I know, but, still..." She retorted softly.

Penelope frequently complimented you and Olivia. You tried your best to raise her to be a good, kind and smart person. Unbeknownst to Penelope, her comments made you remind you of right after you were left all alone with your daughter. The tech analyst didn't hear a word from you for days, but once she visited you and saw the place without a single trace of Olivia's dad, she understood it all. You kept silent, still trying to adapt to a world where you were lonely again. Despite the odds and unwillingness to open up to her, you kept talking to your daughter, even if she didn't truly understand it all. From her early years, you made sure to provide her everything she needed to speak like she does now.

Your own personal chatterbox.

A titter broke through you, "I sure hope so." You replied, rubbing your eyes at a red light. "I also hope you know I'm driving and I can't cry right now," you joked.

"Ah, right! Sorry, baby!" She exclaimed clumsily, true Penelope style. "All of this to ask if I can spend some time with her on... on Friday! Yes!" She paused and then continued.

"Friday?" You asked, uncertain. "That's usually when we go out together."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry for taking it away from you, it's just that I..." second pause on her speech, "I wanna make it up for missing her birthday and I seriously hope that creepy guys give me a break so that I can spend some time with our Oli girl." She finished.

Still uncertain and the tiniest bit jealous, you relented. "Okay, Pen. May I ask you where you are taking her?"

"Well... it's a surpr—we are going to an amusement park!" She paused and then squealed and you could hear clapping.

You snickered, joking along, "It's your funeral."

"I'll die a happy woman. That's all, sweetcheeks! Thank you so much! Gotta go. Prrr."

And just like that, she hung up on you. Little did you know, she and Emily Prentiss high-fived and made ridiculous noises to celebrate the execution of their mastermind plan taking shape.

Penelope Garcia, the singular rollercoaster of emotions that you are.

Back in the bullpen, Spencer focused on his reports — not that it was a difficult task, but he felt cornered by Emily's outlook from earlier. Had he done the wrong thing? If he did, could he fix it? He wasn't the most experienced man in the world when it came to dating and women in general. He was on the brink of insanity, nearly going up to Hotch for advice. He ruled out Morgan immediately because he knew he couldn't get tips from someone who would definitely tease him, in a manner that felt lowkey demeaning.

Spencer had a lot of insecurities, and being socially awkward in his mid-twenties was one of them. Next to Morgan, he felt like a fourteen-year-old who didn't even know how to properly say hi to people. He needed some words from someone who understood him.

But who did?

Wrapping up one of his reports, his phone beeped.

Come to my lair. Treats are on the table :)

Penelope

Cautiously approaching the door, like there was a bomb inside, Spencer opened the door to Penelope's office. "Okay, so I know you were upset and maybe you still are a little because I spilled your... um... moment to Emily but I wanted to say sorry and ask you to please not be mad at me. I was just excited for you and I knew Emily would be, too." She blabbered once he closed the door behind him.

His ears turned pink and he tried playing it cool by reaching for one of the cookies that were in a bowl. "It's okay, Garcia. I was upset for a moment, but I know you didn't mean it."

She smiled. "Glad to hear that! Thank you, Reid."

He leaned his body on the desk adjacent to her, crossing his arms over his chest. He cleared his throat. "So, um, how do you know her?"

"We met in college. She had my back when my parents... you know."

A pause. He hated that he, sometimes, lacked the sensitivity to approach people and that, despite being brightly intelligent, often missed possible outcomes for more personal conversations.

"I'm... I'm sorry I asked. I know it can be a delicate topic." He offered her a sympathetic smile, even though he was berating himself on the inside.

"It's okay. Thank you." Garcia smiled. "She always checked on me, made sure I was eating properly, that I wasn't... harming myself... She even went over to my dorm to tidy everything when I was too depressed to get out of bed." She took a deep breath. "I swear, Spencer. She was there. And we had just met." She finished, softly.

If Spencer admired the person you were before, now he was almost tongue tied, not having the wits to come up with a comment of his own. It truly shocked him, because, one: his experience with college kids had been totally different, of course, but two: what kind of person goes out of their way, even when dealing with their personal burdens, to help someone they just met?

Garcia searched his face. A small smile on her lips starkly contrasted with her crestfallen eyes. "Shortly after her graduation, she got married and, later, pregnant with Olivia. I was still around, on and off. I joined the FBI and had less and less time to hang out, but I always had and always will have a soft spot for her. She was there for me."

He couldn't help but want to know more. He knows it should be better to learn about you from you, but, right now, he was handed an opportunity he couldn't deprive himself from grasping, "Wow. That's-That's a lot of history." He said, in a low voice, a little hesitant.

"Yes. And you will know much, much more." Penelope said, confident tone lacing her words.

"Why do I sense you're onto something?" He inquired, brows furrowing with worry.

"Because I am." She winked at him.

Oh, no.

"What?"

"Trust me on this one, loverboy." She snickered.

Penelope Garcia, the mess you'll make.

Friday rolled around with promises of a certain blonde bringing your daughter home by 9p.m. The feeling almost made you feel like a possessive mother who didn't let their kids have boyfriends. Or girlfriends. You were fine with it, by the way. Either. You just weren't currently fine with the idea of spending time away from her.

You reluctantly let Olivia go. Penelope stood behind her in your living room. You were crouching down to your daughter's height.

"Mommy, I'll be back before you know it," she said. Just like you did when she was first getting adapted to going to school. You scrunched your face, feeling like the most loved person in the whole universe.

You were.

"I'll bring you cotton candy." She promised, raising her pinky in front of you. You crossed your own with hers.

"Now you're just bribing me." You leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Is it working?" Penelope chirped in, an easy smile on her face.

You giggled, looking up at her for a moment. "Maybe..."

"Mommy loves you, okay?" You said. "I promise I can take you somewhere even cooler than aunt Garcia is taking you," you joked.

"Now you're just being mean," the woman frowned playfully.

"Yeah, mom! Don't be mean."

"I can't believe you're turning my own daughter against me. And she's scolding me. In my own house." You feigned offense. Garcia burst out in laughter with Olivia.

Two kids in your living room.

"Okay, mommy," she said, finally, giving you a kiss on each of your cheeks, just like you did with her. "Bye bye. Say bye bye to Aunt Penelope, too."

"Okay," you agreed. "Bye bye, Aunt Penelope." you teased. Olivia was already walking out, ahead of you two.

"Bye bye, mommy." Penelope joked as you walked her out. Olivia pressed the elevator button as you and Garcia stood in front of your apartment, side by side with you, watching your kid wait for the elevator. Then, she looked you up and down, a knowing look on her face.  "You're totally a hot mommy." She winked.

You didn't have an answer to that, the remark catching you off guard. Instead, you shoved her jokingly.

"Get outta here," you quipped, flustered, watching her as she entered the elevator with Olivia, holding her small hand.

You waved as the elevator doors closed. You sighed when they were out of your eyesight.

Coming back to your place, you looked around in hopes to find something to entertain yourself with. Truth was that without your daughter, you felt a little lost. Sometimes, you'd get lost in your own head, too sick with worry about losing yourself in order to be sufficient for Olivia. The remedy for those thoughts were usually doing something on your own for yourself. Tonight, you decided to cook something.

After a quick trip to the local supermarket and some embarrassment on the self-checkout cashier, you made it back to your home with everything needed to make pasta from scratch. Maybe you got a little excited by literally having your hands dirty and made enough pasta to feed the entire apartment complex. You cut them in different sizes and shapes and cursed your dad for a moment for having taught you your way around food.

Giving it a better thought, seeing your kitchen with pasta hanging to dry everywhere, maybe it was an opportunity. You turned the thought of feeding the families who surrounded you to simply feeding Spencer.

You smiled at yourself, pleased with the idea.

One, two, three eager knocks on Spencer's doors made him interrupt his Doctor Who's weekly (if no bad guys were forcing him to work) marathon. He looked through the peephole and found you, his neighbor, studying his door, probably to avoid looking directly into the hole, like it was an intricate work of art. A smile crept upon his face. He never thought he'd be so happy to be interrupted. Opening the door, he greeted, "Hi!"

A joyful "Hi!" was your answer.

You took a minute to look at him. He looked more relaxed, of course, but you came to the conclusion that he didn't own many casual clothes, because he was dressed in a dark blue Caltech sweatshirt and slacks. Funny matching, but it worked for you. Differently from what you usually saw him dressed in, he didn't appear so tired. He was glowing.

"Um, do you need anything?" He asked politely, scrunching his brows a little bit in concern as your silence became too long.

A sliver of doubt crossed through your features. "I'm not interrupting you, am I?"

"No, not at all." He lied.

He'd take your interruptions at any time.

"Oh, that's great. It's just... I miscalculated the amount of pasta that I was um... making." You struggled to find the words, a little mesmerized by the simple act of looking at him. "Do you want to, um, do you want to have some? With me? I've been told I'm good at cooking." You finally asked, with a little convincing on top.

Not that he needed any. You had him at hi. Spencer felt disarmed.

"Yes. I-I'd love to."

"Great!" You cheered. "Come on. You can help me cut them once they dry a little bit."

He followed you into your apartment. Today, the atmosphere felt a lot different. You had music playing softly and the highlight was in the kitchen, where strings of pasta hanged from basically everywhere. There was still a small piece of dough on the surface of your kitchen counter, which was surrounded by a big, sharp knife, a pasta maker machine and some other kitchen gadgets that, surprisingly, Spencer didn't know the name of.

"Wow. It's really a lot." He thought out loud.

"Yeah," you chuckled. "I usually make small amounts, but there's no problem in freezing them." You said, glancing briefly at your watch.

"Oh, okay." He replied meekly. "I'm not so sure if I can help, though. I'm not very good at cooking."

"No!" You feigned exaggerated surprise.

"Yes," he quipped, furrowing his brows playfully.

"But you have to work for it." You deadpanned, looking him dead in the eye. "I tricked you. I only called you here so you'd help me with it. If you don't, you won't get pasta."

He raised both hands, joining your banter. Easily. Despite, despite, despite. "No problem. I like learning."

You scrunch your face, giving him the most adorable grin. "Okay, doctor. So, this small ball here," you said, pointing at the dough and rolling up your sleeves, "needs to rest for a few minutes. It needs to dry a little bit to make cutting it easier. I'll tell you how to do it once you have an apron on."

"Oh, sorry, I don't have any at home. I don't really cook." He mentioned it again.

"I thought so." You grinned. "But don't worry about it. I have a collection. My dad's a chef and everything he gives me as a casual gift is related to cooking" you chuckled.

Okay, so the miscalculated amount was definitely an excuse to have him with you. His heart felt like giving out at any minute. You wanted him there. It was almost like you had it all planned out, and Spencer watched as you moved around your kitchen so confidently and calmly, very much unlike his mind that was running miles per second. Spencer usually had a hard time calming down, but this, this was something else. He was alone with you and he didn't even know how to say anything. Simultaneously proud and jealous of your easygoing chatter, he decided that it was better to follow your lead and try not to be awkward around you than doing anything else.

Slowly being pulled out of his self-conscious and overall sad thoughts, he busied himself with watching you, instead. He smiled to himself. Again, despite, despite, despite. You grabbed an apron from one of your drawers and Spencer watched you quietly. You moved so effortlessly that he felt inclined to just sit and watch you in your own scene. In that moment, you were not Olivia's mother, not a character from a novel he imagined, not a publisher, not Garcia's friend from college, just a woman doing something she enjoys doing. And he was delighted to be present to see it.

Moving back to where he stood, you stopped in front of him. You held it out in front of you, almost waiting for his permission to get closer. Spencer nodded eagerly and you smiled. You put the apron over his head and he raised his arms, almost automatically, so you could wrap yours around him to tie it in the back, bodies mere inches away from one another. He somehow had the courage to watch your face the entire time, but you bashfully avoided his gaze, choosing to concentrate on the task at hand. Once you finished, you looked up at him, though. To offer him a smile.

But what caught his attention was the fact that he finally knew, now, what the color of your eyes were. They seemed a lot different than when he first saw you. Different shades swirled around your pupils in such harmony that he decided that, from then on, he'd associate these colors with you and with you only. You aimed your gaze at him with something so distinguished he couldn't quite decipher what it was, suddenly and momentarily losing his profiling abilities. Spencer knew immediately that he could never shake that moment from his memory. Then, he also noticed that you had a smudge of flour on your cheek, but he didn't have the heart to tell you to clean it up, too stuck in the warmth of your gaze. He thought of it as a reminder of what you were doing, the moment you were sharing together.

He smiled back at you.

"Okay, I guess that's it, then," you announced, voice barely above a whisper, finally. He felt both relieved and deprived from the sweet torture you put him in. He wanted to be under your spell for longer, but he worried he would be too entranced and make a fool out of himself. "First, I'm gonna divide it in half. Oh, wait. What do you want to eat? I have shrimp, chicken and minced meat. But I can also try to do something vegetarian if you don't eat meat." You blabbered inconsistently, jumping from one topic to another, our eyebrows flying to your forehead in concern for a moment.

"It's okay," he soothed you, "I'll have anything." He added softly.

You happily nodded at him. "Alright. So I'm gonna be a good teacher and tell you to use the machine to open it first, but a cook must be skilled enough to know how to open and cut pasta without one of these gems," you said.

He grinned. Cooking classes were not in his weekend bingo, but here he was. Not wishing for anything else. "I'm glad you're walking me through it." He said. "I can hardly boil an egg."

"What? I couldn't tell." You said, faking earnestness, while opening a piece of dough with a roller. You had your eyes on it, rolling the dough on the counter to make sure you'd open it completely. He was mesmerized by your focused expression. Looking at your skilled hands. Watching.

"Really?" He asked, lighting up.

"Yeah, I could. Sorry." You said, snickering, folding the dough on itself to start cutting it. The result was thicker strings of pasta, like fettuccine. "You look like the kind of guy who only eats outside."

"I am." He confided, trying to mimic your previous actions. "Maybe you're the profiler."

"Nah, just a real observant neighbor." He laughed. "Hey, you're doing alright." You told him once you saw what he was doing. Your stare was on his hands. Oh. His deft hands, albeit not accustomed to the task, worked dexterously, flexing the veins on his forearm. You shook your head lightly as an attempt to get rid of the thoughts, glad he wasn't paying attention to you.

Being with you, he realized, was easy. He condemned himself for overthinking the advice Penelope had given him earlier about asking you out today, because she planned on taking Olivia out. He had decided not to under the excuse that a case might pop at any second, but the truth was he was too afraid to be rejected. 

"Okay, so you can open the dough, Doctor. Good job!" You teased as you watched him use the machine instead of the rolling pin like you did.

"I'm decent at it, yeah," he quipped.

Spencer Reid being able to take and to crack jokes about himself. He decided then that he liked jokes, he liked your banter, but because you weren't mean to him.

Something in him finally started to heal.

"Alright." You placed yourself beside him. He gulped at the closeness. "See how I'm doing with my hands." Was it appropriate to answer that he hadn't looked away not even for a second? "You wanna fold it over and over. Careful not to stick it, though, so be gentle. You can use a little flour to help you. Wanna give it a try?"

He only nodded and you helped him fold it. He wasn't as skillful as you were — hell, your movements seemed rehearsed from how much ease you had at doing them. He was a little slower, but he moved in an effective way. "Careful not to cut yourself, Spencer." You whispered to him, to which he hummed weakly.

"Is there a right way to hold the knife?" He asked, turning his head to look at you.

Your reply was to touch his right hand, the one holding the knife, and closed his fingers around its base. Grabbing his left hand, you curled his fingers on top of the dough, and, slowly, pushed the knife down to cut it. "See?" You pulled the cut dough, revealing a string.

He wondered hastily if he could have some more time with your hands on top of his. Your delicate hands, even dirty, beat every single texture he had felt on top of his. Spencer couldn't answer anything. "Okay! Now we can set them to dry."

"Where?" He asked, robotically. You grinned.

"We gotta find somewhere." You chuckled. "By the way, it's best if we keep them away from the others." You advised.

"Why is that?" He inquired, intrigued look on his face.

"I, um, made some with eggs, you know, the traditional one." You bit your lip. "I also made a recipe with no eggs in case you had any restrictions."

Usually, he'd be speechless, not used to being treated like this. Not being one people usually thought of so intentionally, so dearly, so full of carefully. He noticed, though, that as he spent time with you in your kitchen, every one of your actions peeled away some of his issues. Then, "Oh, wow." He said, a hint of a cocky expression dancing around his features. If you kept that attitude, he might even become greedy. He remembered about your so-called miscalculation for the second time.

You finished up the meal in an instant, too fast for Spencer's liking. He was observant, of course, and you made sure to tell him about what you were doing and why you were doing every step of the way, like he was a child acquiring language. He was a grown man learning how to be around you, studying your every movement and engraving it to his memory, trying harder than he ever did when learning English (or other languages). Those came to him naturally. You, on the other hand, were full of patterns he didn't quite know yet — not that he wasn't dying to.

"Okay. We're done." You said, softly, plating the meal on two white plates. "Do you want to sit with me on the balcony?"

"Yes."

"Be there in a second. Make yourself at home."

His face lit up. Joy and embarrassment fighting to control him.

As he left with the plates in hand, which was a little funny to you, you cleaned up the mess in the kitchen as much as you could. You glanced at Spencer, meticulously placing the plates on the table to help you out. You couldn't control the sigh that made its way out of you, out of the very depths of your being.

Sitting down with him after you both ate to your heart's content, he complimented you. "It's not very often that I get to eat this well." He chuckled. "And you're a good chef. You make things efficiently and neatly." He said, looking at you. You looked straight ahead, longingly, into the city.

You shrunk your shoulders, a little embarrassed. Was he flirting? His words were completely different from what you used to consider flirting. Too analytical, too technical. "Thanks!" You exclaimed, albeit meekly.

Silence.

Spencer was rummaging through his big brain for something to say. You were, sort of, deflating from basically carrying the interaction all night long. Letting too many thoughts consume you all at once. "I'm not really an interesting person, so I'm not sure what I should say," he chuckled, a little disappointed by having your attention somewhere else.

Your heart probably doubled in size.

You crossed your legs on the chair. "I think you are an interesting person," you said softly, looking at him. "And I think there's no shame in being silent. It's nice. I know you like it."

His heart was making somersaults in his chest.

"Yeah..." he chuckled. “But I’d like to talk to you.”

"Try me! Penny said you can do magic, good ice-breaker. It's so nice, but so baffling!" You gushed. "I can't even do the classic trick, that one that you're supposed to be pretending to pull your thumb off. Olivia says I'm not convincing enough." You laughed, shooking your head and squinting at him. "Can you believe that?"

"She's a very bright kid." He said, amused. "It must be hard tricking her."

"Yeah, it is."

"Where is she, by the way?"

"Penelope asked to take her out. Pasta time was supposed to be time spent with her. But I guess you're a good substitute."

Again, Penelope was onto something. That was when he knew for sure that his theory from earlier was correct.

"Can I tell you something?" He decided to be honest, instead.

"Is everything alright?" You ask, searching his face for something that told you if there was something wrong.

"Yes! Yes! Everything's fine." He blurted. "It's just that, earlier, Penelope was, ahem, encouraging me to ask you out on a... date. I kept thinking about it and maybe I actually overthinked everything and ended up making excuses not to ask you out.”

You were taken aback by his words. You blinked once, not expecting his words, those words, and failing at trying to slow the racing of your heart and at stopping the smile creeping up on your face. “It's… it's no problem. Don't worry.”

Spencer couldn't help but glance over, listening attentively to your reply. Your words struck a softer tone, a side of you that was filled with warmth and genuine affection — he was estranged to it, not being used to being so understood. It caught him off guard. He watched from his seat, his heart still aching from feeling scared, but filled with a new emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint yet. “Would you, um, would you say yes?”

“To what?” You faked coyness, but you knew he could see right through you. You weren’t a good actress.

He smirked, encouraged by your playful mannerisms. “If I asked you on a date.”

“Well, yes.”

Oh, so it was bravery. He felt it completely, now.

A deep breath from his end. “Would you like to go out with me?”

“There's nothing I would want more.” You replied, tone full of mischief, but your eyes held all the truth he needed to confirm that he was actually going to spend time with you in a more… romantic, perhaps private setting. “Does that count as a yes?”

Spencer was hyper-aware of himself and his reality. Therefore, used to his own little life and the trauma and suffering that came with it, he had grown accustomed to the thought that romance was far out of his reach—  stories only told by books and didn’t, couldn’t exist in real life, in his life; writers were just too idealistic. Thus, being used to those thoughts, but secretly refusing to take them as the sole truth of his life, romance came to him in the shape of silly scenarios to help him fall asleep. Now, he was suddenly changing his mind, relieved to see that it could be real.

He was immensely glad for your bravery. He wanted some of it. Needed, even.

“It's the prettiest yes someone has ever said to me.”

“Glad to hear that, Spencer.”

“I just feel a little embarrassed by not having the courage to ask you earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, again, with an adoring look in your eyes, gazing at him, “we can share courage when things get too much.”

“Hey!” Olivia greeted once Spencer opened his door after her persistent, but gentle knocking. He looked around, but you were nowhere to be found. He crouched down to her height. “Here’s a sticker. Mommy said you were very brave last night.” She placed the adhesive on his vest, a star shaped sticker. “Here’s other sticker. Mommy also said you were helpful.” She said, adorning his vest once again.

Oh, my God, he thought, even her daughter knows.

He chuckled, not having it in himself to let the opportunity to joke go. “Oh, so we get rewards for good behavior?”

Olivia nodded. “Yes, we do. When I get five, mommy gets me something I want. Usually cookies.” She replied, sounding satisfied with herself.

“Thank you, Olivia. I'm gonna make sure to keep them so I'll know when it's time to ask for my gift.” He said, ruffling her hair playfully.

At the conference room, Aaron Hotchner couldn't help but frown at the sight of the extra accessories on one of his agents’ vest, almost interrupting his briefing in order to address the topic to quench his curiosity. “Reid, why do you have star stickers on?”

He shrugged, failing at disguising his happiness, the corners of his lips curving up. “These were a gift.”

He was brave.

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

CH2-14 Thoughts

So! CH2-14, huh? This episode has been our longest in the series yet, and it has used that time incredibly efficiently, especially given it is the penultimate episode before our culprit reveal. I don't think there's much to start with, really. Let's jump right into it :D

SWEAR STATISTICS (ch2-13)

BINGO CARD

Nico

DT-Dev needs to stop drawing Nico so handsome when they're in the middle of killing someone. this has happened twice now, I am very concerned.

Nico is probably the character I have the least to say about overall, but I still think it's fair to start with them. For one, we finally got the reveal of Nico's true murder plan! I...still personally do not understand why they didn't just garrote the man from the beginning, but it's nice to finally have some answers. Nico confessing to not trusting anyone in the killing game as well as their whole speech later on is honestly very based, if I was in their shoes I'd probably not see the point in pretending to be guilty either, and I really do think it was the most mature way to respond to this situation as a whole. Nico is probably one of the more logically-driven in the cast (when Ace isn't up their ass, anyway), so it makes a lot of sense to me that this is the conclusion they'd come to.

(x) Nico: I… I just can't stand being treated like that. My teachers, my classmates, my father… I don't ever want to relive what they did to me.

Furthermore, we also learned that their father was also in on the abuse and transphobia they received, and this combined with how Levi talked about his father in the previous episode, it's just daddy issues across the board huh? Guess DT-Dev had to make up for J's mom angst somehow lmao. But in all seriousness, the fact that Nico more than likely had no one be there for them during those times is probably part of why they drifted more towards animals, besides the fact that there's no social rules with animals. (...has anyone put alien blues by vundabar on a nico playlist? I'm getting sidetracked.)

There is also a lot I could say about Nico's predominant male figure subjecting them to such treatment and how that relates to their relationship with Ace and Ace in general, but I'll leave that for a future post. All I'll say for right now is to look up VeryWellMind's page on toxic masculinity and observe how many points relate back to Ace :3

(x) Nico: I don't expect you to forgive me. Very few people ever do. So I don't see the point in acting sorry.

The last thing I really want to mention when it comes to Nico is this line, specifically the bolded text, because... am I wrong to think this is a very strange thing to say in the context of talking about your attempted murder? I've seen people say that this could be in reference to Nico's blunt way of speaking, but I feel like that doesn't fit in with this context, and the wording itself feels too dramatic for that to be the case. I feel like Nico has resorted to violence against their bullies before. I don't think it ever got as severe as the situation with Ace, but if only a few days of abuse caused Nico to choose violence, I think its almost a guarantee that they resorted to violence a few times during the years they were abused by their peers. Would certainly explain those weird ass bandages around their upper arms. anyway Nico, I adore you very much despite your bullshit murder plan. can't wait to see where you go :) (also is it fair to say that the theories of literally anyone else committing Ace's attempted murder are de-confirmed now? Like I don't think you could get a greater confirmation than the first thirteen minutes of this episode lmao)

Hu

...Oh yikes. So I have defended Hu on a few occasions, talking about how she is just defending Nico and that her behavior towards them is completely normal. And I think I must take advantage of my minimal gag reflex and gulp down that L because lord have fucking mercy.

First and foremost

(x) Hu: You’re trying to paint them as the villain just because they lost their temper at Ace once!

(x) Hu: If Arei died of a stab wound, it would be wrong for me to say you did it.

Both of these lines were fucking crazy of her lmao. Absolutely nonsensical, she is so annoying /affectionate

Second and secondmost, Hu so clearly projecting her own emotions and feelings onto Nico so that they can look weak and small and thus have to rely on her and clinging onto that perception when it continues to falter is so fucking delicious. The way I worded that makes it seem like I think Hu is being malicious, I do not, but also that is literally what she is doing, and furthermore it is not working. This episode alone brought Hu in my mind to a high-c tier, to a high b-tier because there is nothing I love more in this world than fictional women being awful. And now that I have that all typed out, I can't help but realize that this sounds very familiar...

Oh! That's right!

...Man Hu, I get that it's across the color wheel, but you really like to foil with people in red. Yeah, I think that Acevi and Huco are meant to be parallels of each other relationship wise. Both of them feature someone (Ace and Hu) projecting a certain identity onto a stranger (Levi and Nico) to satisfy their own emotional needs and their reactions when those fantasies crumble beneath them. The dynamic between Ace and Hu is so delicious to me and I think should be explored more in the fandom. Not just because they somehow manage to give divorced spouses vibes despite one of the two being gay, but because I think the way that they foil, how they are different in contrast with how they're similar in typical DRDT fashion, adds so much to both of their characters and their relationships with the others. And I'm also glad that I at least have two more, count-em two, more parallels between Nico and Levi. I will keep spreading my Levco agenda until the day I die.

Okay but, though I've kind of been taking the piss out of Hu during this section, I do actually feel very bad for her. Especially if Eden is the culprit, because Hu and Eden have shown to be close on multiple occasions, and I could not imagine witnessing the gruesome execution of someone you love after pretty much dealing with two betrayals back-to-back. And I guess since we're here I should clarify that I do not think Hu, or anyone else except the two suspects we land on in this episode, are responsible for Arei's murder. Third Party Theory seems to hinge entirely on the idea that someone other than Nico attempted to kill Ace, and as I've said before I don't think that's the case. And given the fact that we have at least 40 minutes left of the overall case, I can't really see a way from a writer's perspective to throw in such a major final twist with an entirely different character without it feeling rushed. I'm sure DT-Dev could pull it off, but just on concept, not sure how it could work and also if Eden really is the culprit, Hu is 1000% going to try and take her place as the optimistic mood-lifter, and I need to see that outside of my imagination

There isn't much else for me to add, really, part from the fact that I am very excited to see how Hu's character progresses and how her relationships with the cast progress. ... ...hey can we count Hu and Nico as toxic yur--

Ace

Funny thing, I originally was not going to give Ace his own section in this post. But I decided I would anyhow for two reasons 1. Ace is a very fun character to analyze And 2. I get to once again talk about how much of a fucking liar this man is lmao

(x) Ace: Who’s gonna stick up for me, huh? No one. Because I have a spine and I don’t need other people to lie to me constantly to keep me happy.

[Pictured: Doesn't need other people to lie to him constantly to keep him happy]

(x) Nico: What else should I say? Ace: W— "What else should I say"?? Ace: You tried to murder me. You fucking tried to murder me! And after all's said and done, you can't even say something as simple as "sorry"?!

I love this jockey the best when he is gaslighting himself. We obviously know that Ace does, in fact, need people to lie to him to keep him happy. And I don't just mean that in the context of Levi and Nico. Ace has a very antagonized view of everyone in the cast

(x) Ace: -but now they apparently also have a fucking defense brigade to shield them from even having to think about the fact that they're a murderer.

the only person defending them was Hu

And that view of his classmates, to me anyway, is very intentionally cultivated by Ace himself. He is very aware that how he's behaving is wrong, and he is clearly not happy about it

(x) Ace: You think I act like this for fun, and then I go to bed and sleep soundly at night, you dumb piece of shit?

Ace doesn't like the fact that he is being rude to otherwise innocent people, but at the same time, he knows that any of these innocent people could stab him in the back without a second thought, like Levi. So Ace demonizes the cast in his head so that he can emotionally distance himself from them, and as such, will feel less bad about treating them like shit. As a certain indie game that had its nine year anniversary once said: The more you distance yourself, the less you will hurt. The more easily you can bring yourself to hurt others.

Ace does need people to lie to him to keep him happy. Which brings me to his role in this whole scene with Nico which just- I love. So much.

It is so, so funny to me that Ace is putting this pressure on Nico to give an apology. And why is that? Ace treats both Nico and Levi in pretty much the same way, incredibly volatile even more so than the rest of the cast. And that makes a lot of sense given his relationship with both characters and how both of them have threatened his safety. But there is one key difference between his interactions with both of these people

(x) Levi: Ace, I already said— Ace: "Sorry" won't cut it. You know that's just a word you say, right? You think that saying two syllables is going to make me forget how you acted yesterday at that trial?

(x) Ace: You tried to murder me. You fucking tried to murder me! And after all's said and done, you can't even say something as simple as "sorry"?!

With Levi, he repeatedly denies and mocks his apologies. With Nico, it's almost like Ace wants them to apologize to him. But why is that? Ace certainly cares less about what Nico thinks compared to Levi, so why does he necessarily care whether or not Nico apologizes to him? You could say it's because the severity of what both of these people did to Ace, but to me personally? I think Ace just wants this all to end. Nico's murder attempt on him, the scar it left him, it was the perfect kick in the ribs to everything Ace had become since the events of Chapter 1. It confirmed to him that not only was his fear that everyone is out to get him, that he's going to be next after Xander and Min, completely justified to have. But also that his efforts to appear tough and threatening to prevent that fear from becoming reality were not only null, but thrown right back in his face.

(x) Ace: You know… Heh. I've always wondered which is worse, dying young or living a long shitty life of suffering. But it turns out neither of those options are as bad as this.

He is currently at his lowest possible point. At this point, the least that he wants is for Nico to provide him with some form of closure, so that he can put that moment where his guts were spilled on the floor to rest. But Nico isn't providing him that closure, they refuse to. And with Ace now being suspected for Arei's murder, regardless of if he survives this chapter or dies with it, I think he is finally going to break down. That hidden quote of his is fast approaching. I already know.

Rose

Rose is a character that, though I love dearly and believe she is one of the most strongly written of Despair Time's cast which is saying a lot, always somehow manages to fade into the background for me. But this episode bringing her to the forefront and giving us some extra character development from her is something I loved a lot.

For one, her clear and open betrayal towards Nico's actions was very upsetting to me, especially when you take into account that Nico asking Rose to teach them how to paint was probably the first time Rose has ever been asked to paint something for someone without a contract involved. I can imagine the idea of it must've been a breath of fresh air for her, and for it to only result in another red string in Nico's murder plan had to have been crushing.

But what's possibly even more crushing is her monologue after David gets frustrated with her, because...

(x) Rose: I know I'm supposed to remember everything. I know I'm supposed to be smart. I know I'm supposed to be helpful. Rose: Yet I'm not. Rose: I… I'm sorry for being useless. Maybe if I tried harder, if I just got over myself—

Wow this woman really does see herself as a commodity that only exists to be used by other people, doesn't she?

Something I've always appreciated about Rose's character is how it commentates on the subject of big corporations seeing art as content instead of something that was the product of someone pouring their heart and soul into a canvas. And how that mindset kills the desire for artists to create. And it is so fascinating seeing how that mindset reflects how Rose sees herself as a person.

She's one of the few characters in the cast that I can never really get a read on when it comes to where her character arc could be going, but I am very excited to see where DT-Dev takes her, even more-so with this development.

Teruko

I am like, 9999% sure this sprite is the first time she has smiled throughout this entire chapter. I am so happy for her.

Teruko, as always, stays being Best Girl™, and I absolutely adore the development given to her as well. Her realizing that her attempts to over-correct by isolating herself and not receiving help from anyone not only resulted in her getting hurt, but those around her getting hurt as well. And the fact that that's what leads her to coming to this conclusion really goes to show that, despite everything, she cares about these dumbfucks so much. And this is only taken further by her decision to trust Eden despite (HOW I INTERPRET IT) already knowing that Eden is a more likely culprit than Ace. She is choosing to trust her, regardless of if she'll regret it. And I honestly think that, regardless if Eden is the culprit or not, regardless if Teruko backslides, I think the fact that she got the courage to trust Eden at all is going to stick with her. I don't really have much else to say, really. Uhh... Teruko and Rose were kinda fruity this episode, I dunno.

David

[Sighs] This man provides us with a new headache every single episode and I love/hate him so much for it. So like...basically everyone else who watched this episode, I was confused as fuck watching whatever the hell David was pulling for the last 18 minutes of the episode. But now that I have time to think about it, I think I have a pretty stable idea. So, let's get into it.

Firstly

(x) David: Because I'm actually the first person to see the body.

Now, most people are immediately brushing this off as David lying to fuck things up again. But I think that a lot of people are forgetting two things 1. David is not a compulsive liar. He doesn't just tell lies for no/little reason behind them. The lies that he tells all have reasoning and inner logic to support them. 2. There really isn't any evidence suggesting that he couldn't had seen Arei's corpse before everyone else.

So though this point is mostly speculation, I think that David is telling the truth (sorry if this seems like an asspull, there is literally five more hours until the next episode comes out I need to speed things up)

But that's not really what I want to talk about in this section anyway, it's everything that comes after this that I want to talk about.

(x) David: All I want is for Teruko to distrust others.

...So. I think David is lying off his ass when he says that this is why he is doing this. And my reasoning for why I think that is pretty simple... Why would he care?

Like, yeah given the fact that David more than likely has Teruko's secret, he has every right to suspect that she might be affiliated with the death game, and also probably wants her dead. But...what does that have to do with Teruko's distrust in others? Not much. I think this sentence is David lying about why he is doing this to keep his true intentions underwraps. But what are those true intentions?

I can answer that pretty easily as well. David's whole argument in this part of the episode is the idea that Eden is not exempt from being the culprit. He suspects that she is the one behind Arei's murder, and I don't think that's helped by the seed planted in his head by Arei that even Eden must be responsible for the harm of someone. And well...I think we know how exactly David feels about the culprit behind Arei's murder

(x) David: Ahaha. It's just so foolish. David: For someone to take advantage of Arei like that… David: It's absolutely unforgivable. All she wanted was to change. David: What a reprehensible person this killer is. I look forward to seeing their painful execution.

And that leads me to what I think David is truly trying to do here: I think he is trying to get Eden voted for.

That is why he wants Teruko to believe him, and is using her trust issues against her to do so. He's seen the first trial, he saw how Teruko was able to convict Min as the culprit and convince the others to vote for her too. He wants her to do the same thing again, but for Eden. Really, it's a win-win for him. If Eden is the culprit like he suspects, then he gets to witness the unforgivable culprit get their just deserts. If Eden isn't the culprit, then everyone ends up getting executed. Which is, y'know, that other thing he really wants.

That's my personal theory on what David was trying to do here. It's not perfect, but it'll do for now. I love you, Mr. David Chiem. Please keep being confusing.

Eden

...So yeah, if you've been paying any attention to this post, I do still think Eden is the culprit. I also think during the scene with her and Teruko she is very desperate and wants to live and as a result, may have sipped a small tiny bit of the manipulation juice. But I will get to that in a bit First of all though, I absolutely loved the scene with Teruko and Eden. There is something about all of their scenes that just resonates with me in a way I can't describe, and this one is no different. The way it is shot, with the half-and-half and then the closeup on both of their expressions, and the fucking HUG CG? Luucarii and Zel both did an amazing job bringing the scene to life with their voices, and the choice to use the same OST as the kitchen scene in CH2-3 was fucking evil, especially because of what I'm about to say. All around, a fantastically orchestrated and emotional scene, I would expect no less from DT-Dev and their team.

But now it's time to talk Eden!Culprit. This is not something I should have to clarify if you aren't stupid, but I think before I really go into it I should say that I do not think Eden is an inherently malicious character, and I think she feels horrible for what she has possibly done. I also think she wants to live, like every bundle of pixels masquerading as a human. She can feel guilt for her actions and also indulge in a bit of gaslight gatekeep girlbossing. Min already proved that those two things can be simultaneous. With that out of the way... I do think that Eden is slightly manipulating Teruko here. And there is a very big reason why I think that is because of something @thebadjoe pointed out in their theory post

(x) Eden: Teruko, relationships aren't transactional. It's not that I did something good for you that you should do something good for me.

[11 episodes later]

(x) Eden: Please, Teruko… You’re my friend, aren’t you? Eden: Friends help each other…. So please, help me…

...Eden? Darling? I thought you said that relationships weren't transactional. You can't simply change your principles because they're getting closer to the truth. Putting the fact that Teruko never even considered her a friend to begin with on the shelf for right now, these two lines from Eden directly go against each other. Saying that relationships aren't transactional, and then saying that Teruko should help her because she's her friend. I think Eden knows that she is basically backed into a corner. There is no evidence suggesting that she couldn't had done it, and David is turning the tide in a way that is leading others to begin suspecting her. And just as Arei said...

(x) Arei: -you're pathetic and weak, and you always need to rely on others to get by.

Eden's is too overcome with emotion to defend herself properly, so she comes to Teruko to defend her for her. And when Teruko initially refuses, she becomes desperate. Using their relationship so that Teruko will believe her and trust her.

I don't think Eden wants to do this, but I don't think she knows what else to do, and is terrified and just wants this trial to be over. Even if it means treating her and Teruko's relationship like it's transactional. And Teruko, ultimately, gives into this idea.

(x) Teruko: Don’t… get me wrong. This isn’t out of kindness or pity or anything else. This is only because you helped me in the last trial.

(teruko is most likely simplifying her thought-process, I think she does genuinely care for eden and wants to trust her. But the idea of relationships as transactions isn't one inherently new to her, so I do think this is partially the truth.)

And I think the fact that Teruko does agree to help Eden is why Eden goes in for the hug. This is where we take that point of "Teruko never agreed to be friends with Eden" off the shelf

Eden knows that Teruko is choosing to not be her friend, despite considering Teruko as a friend. But I think in this moment, Eden thinks that Teruko finally considers her as a friend, someone she is willing to extend her hand to. And even if this day is her final one, I think Eden will appreciate forever.

Extra Thoughts !! - TERUKO SAID IT!! SHE SAID THE WORD!! THE T WORD!! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THAT FROM HER!! another one to cross off the bingo card babyyyy - that aside, as always the voice work for this episode was fucking phenomenal. I already mentioned Luucarii and Zel's performances, but Swords and Arakachi did amazingly too. Such an amazing frosting on top of the already great storytelling.

(x) Eden: Arei is… She could have been my friend! Why would I kill her??

- maybe I'm reading too deep into it, but I honestly think this is the closest we've gotten to direct confirmation that Eden thought Arei was full of shit when she said she wanted to change. Like...she literally corrects herself. Why the fuck did she correct herself. - this isn't something I usually compliment, but the music-choice in this episode was amazing as well. Every song chosen suited the situation and the rising tension, and all of them were fucking bops. - I also adored the new sprites, as I always do. Especially Nico's

Predictions for CH2-15 - I'll be honest and say I have none. At least other than the obvious, that being that there's 100% gonna be an Ace VS Eden scrum debate.

Conclusion

This episode was a fantastic way to lead into what will probably be the last episode of the trial. I cannot wait to see what's cooking come CH2-15, which is in... [looks at my conveniently placed watch] THREE HOURS?! WHAT THE FU-

UPDATED SWEAR STATISTICS CH2-14

UPDATED BINGO CARD

[calicobigamy]

I can't be only one, right...?

I wanted to finish the game and then write this post but I gave up. I put in 100 plus hours and just could not go on once I got into act three. Maybe no one will hear my pitiful cry from the void, but I must scream for the sake of my sanity.

I was completely and utterly disappointed by Baldur's Gate 3. 

It had huge maps like an open world game yet I had no desire to explore the settings despite their beauty. It had hours of dialogue as an RPG would and yet I found myself skipping characters' responses. The game mechanic structure was inspired by DnD, a story-telling game dictated by some rules, lucky rolls and the extent of players' imagination, yet I was strong-armed into fighting impossibly stacked battles. A story-telling game dependent on the players’ attachment to their and their teammates' characters and yet this game lacked any kind of narrative consistency or depth of feeling. 

Larian wanted to make an open world RPG, based off of DND mechanics and somehow did the worst version of all three. The studio touts that Baldur’s Gate 3 has 17,000 possible endings and 2 million words, but to what end? What did this game have to say about what happens when people rise to the challenge and become heroes despite their circumstances or fall into the dark and become the monsters they were supposed to fight? What did it suggest might happen when fate deals you a bad hand but in doing so also helps you find true friends or love with the other? Ultimately, nothing. 

BG3 is so large that it ends up being incoherent. No writing or game structure decisions were made to keep the narrative tight and on theme. It urges players to choose a moral alignment, but most decisions, good or bad, seem to end up having little effect in the end. To play the game at all you have to resort to save scumming and that in turn deflates the possible impact of so many plot points of the narrative overall. 

Forcing players to save scum in order to progress through the game is terrible design in general. Statistically speaking the bosses make impossible critical hits again and again. I was playing in the game’s “casual mode” and found myself struggling to get through confrontations with bosses that were at a lower level than my own. If you are reading and thinking oh well you are probably not using tactics or spells well, etc., let’s do a little experiment…

Take your d20 (https://rolladie.net/roll-a-d20-die if you don’t have one in person). In the third act of BG3 I had an AC of 13 as a sorcerer with 100 plus HP. Roll your d20 ten times or more. How many times out of ten would your character have gotten to hit mine successfully? Unless an enemy is extremely lucky it should be unlikely that an enemy could hit my character every turn they get. And even if they do they would have to roll for damage which is only a single d6, d8, d10 or d12 plus a modifier at lower levels depending on your class. Again an enemy would have to have an extremely lucky roll to hit me every turn AND deal significant damage. During an in person DnD session that is just a bad night for my character. In a video game on casual mode that is significantly suspicious. 

So what you might say. You've made and enjoyed the fanart, memes and etc. You got your $61 worth of playtime. So many other people were fine with the game, what is your problem? 

I love video games. They blend so many artforms and tell stories in ways never done before. It is a medium unique to our current century and when historians look back they will view video games as an insight to our culture. 

It frustrates me to no end that Baldur’s Gate 3 is considered the next gold standard. Too many games have done open world and RPGs in a fantasy setting far better for Larian (Swen Vincke) to have made the design and writing choices they did with BG3. There are so many podcasts and shows that have written better stories through the DnD format. I am embarrassed for the medium as an artist and frustrated as a player. Players and the industry deserve better than to have artists, actors, engineers etc. burn themselves out creating maximalist behemoths like this game. A game that is beautiful but basically unplayable, narratively, nihilistic and incoherent. 

[tobysbliss]

surprise enjoyment..?

ler!quackity, lee!wilbur

summary; wilbur is being a little bitch.. quackity tickles him for it. to wilbur’s surprise, however, he seemed to enjoy it.

WARNINGS: mentions of drinking / alcohol, mention of being drunk

reblogs appreciated,, ;-;

“Why is everyone saying- Someone said say your goodbyes, what does that mean?” Quackity looked confused as he, now nervously, tried to open the bottle of wine he held.

“You’re going to die from this,” Wilbur said, the corner of his lips twitching up in a smirk.

“No, you fucking asshole!” Nervous giggles spill from Quackity’s lips.

“Statistically-“

“Stop!”

“Statistically..”

“I know you’re lying, I know it's a bit but like..”

“WOOAH!” Wilbur cut Quackity off, pretending to grab Quackity to scare him. Quackity flinched, and almost immediately hid his face behind his hand.

“Statistically, someone will die in this room, from your actions right now. It’s gonna make a really scary, loud noise..”

“Dude! Fucking stop, no, you fucking do it, I can’t.” Quackity handed the bottle to Wilbur, and Wilbur opened it with ease.

“See, that’s why you hire experts, like me.. Because I won’t die.”

And then, just as Quackity’s nerves had eased, Wilbur pretended he was going to grab Quackity’s torso. Again. Quackity defensively put his arms in front of him, giggling nervously.

“Fuck off! Fuck off, that’s not funny!” He stood up, smacking the table before walking away as Wilbur smirked mischievously. Scaring Quackity was probably one of his favorite things to do.

Quackity murmured a few things to himself, about Wilbur being an asshole.. cocky..

And then he got an idea.

He made his way back over to where Wilbur sat, sipping from his glass of wine as if he’d done nothing. The bastard.

“I’m going to kill you,” Quackity threatened, but Wilbur only laughed, tauntingly.

“Aw, are you upset ‘cause I scared you? Is Big Q a little angry that he got scared~? Hmm?” Wilbur teased, speaking as if he were talking to a baby. Quackity rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I warned you, man.” Just then, Quackity reached down to squeeze and poke Wilbur’s sides, eliciting a shriek from the man. He was laughing again, but this time not tauntingly. Panicked, adorable, and very, very loud giggles.

Wilbur slid down his chair until he was on the floor, desperate for an escape from what he knew was to come.

“No, don’t you dare try escaping this! You deserve it, for scaring me!” Quackity kneeled down by Wilbur. They were both, mostly, out of frame from the stream, but they could be heard loud and clear.

Quackity held Wilbur down, and was pretty damn quick to drill his thumbs on the space above Wilbur’s hip bones, the bastard.

“QuaHAHACKITY! FUCK!” Wilbur threw his head back with a loud shriek of laughter, his hands latching onto Quackity’s wrist defensively— as if that will do anything?

“It’s about time I get some payback, huh? Don’t you agree, Wilbur?” Quackity smirked, keeping one hand at Wilbur’s hips, while the other scribbled on the taller’s underarms; Causing yet another shriek.

To Wilbur, this was a mix of heaven and hell.

It felt like little electric shock waves were shooting through him, yet they didn’t exactly feel bad. He felt a sense of comfort from it, in a way.

Maybe it was the fact he’d been stressed as of lately, and this, to him, felt like a good stress reliever.

Or maybe he was just drunk.

Either way, he was enjoying it— the only thing making him want it to stop, was knowing that chat could hear exactly what was happening.

“I’m gonna take your lack of a response as, you do agree.” Quackity snickered, his fingers spidering across Wilbur’s stomach.

He then stopped, to spare the slightest amount of embarrassment for Wilbur.. He knew that clip would probably circle everywhere.

.

.

.

.

“Q?” Wilbur broke what had been their long silence— they ended the stream around half an hour ago, both of them now more sober.

“Yeah?” Quackity picked his head up to look at Wilbur.

“You know, um, earlier on stream, when you.. Um,” Wilbur placed a hand on his chin, as if trying to think of how to word this.

“When I what?” Quackity thought for a moment, trying to figure out what Wilbur meant…

Oh.

“Oh, what, when I tickled you? For being a little jackass?” Quackity snickered as Wilbur rolled his eyes.

“Yes, that,” Wilbur responded flatly, before his nervous tone seemed to return. He began to mumble, “Um, you know, it was uh.. kinda fun? And-”

“You want me to do it again, don’t you?”

Does this man read minds?

“…Yeah.”

“Come here.”

Wilbur scooted closer to where Quackity sat on the couch, hugging himself and staring at the ground. Did he seriously just ask for this?

Pulling Wilbur from his thoughts, Quackity was quick to hold him in a hug from behind. He chuckled as the taller man squeaked— Not something he’d expected to hear. And then, Quackity dug his fingers into Wilbur’s ribs, his fingers vibrating on the spaces between the bones, skittering up and down the sensitive spot, relishing in the way he screamed and spat meaningless protests through his laughter.

And Wilbur could not have been happier.

[flamemons]

How do you think Digimon Frontier might have gone if the Spirits of Steel, Wood, and Earth had been bequeathed to Ophanimon, the Spirits of Darkness and Water had been bequeathed to Seraphimon, the Spirits of Flame, Light, Ice, Wind, and Thunder had been bequeathed to Cherubimon, and the protagonists had been Katsuharu, Teppei, Chiaki, Teruo, and Koichi (with Kouji joining later)?

im just gonna ramble whatever comes to mind lmao. i drew some stuff too!

uuh while i find it hard to care too much about those other kids because well, I don't know much about them, it is really fun thinking about how kouichi would act if he was there from the start. I think he'd be serious, in a similar way to Kouji, bc he's there on a mission, y'know! All he remembers is following his brother around until Kouji gets some weird text message (wait,,, does kouichi have a phone? probably not, huh. poor people gang ftw...) and now hes in this fuckin place! (hes a dead soul in this au too.) I'd imagine he'd be just as driven as Kouji was, if not more so, bc he KNOWS koujis gotta be here somewhere....but instead of initially trying to avoid the other kids (koujis strategy), he'd probably stick around as soon as he realizes that theyre gonna get themselves killed if they keep acting stupid. So, instead of trying to ditch the kids or act distant, he'd nag them and rush them to stay on track, and come off as kind of a bossy stick-in-the-mud at first

Side note, its easy to think of kouji as being a lot more serious and mature compared to the rest of the frontier kids, but honestly, I have to wonder if he wouldve acted differently if ophanimon wasnt calling him all the damn time telling him that he has to find answers! hes gotta get stronger! theres something he Has To Know!!! like damn if ophanimon was that specific with the other kids they'd also probably be just as sullen. anyway, kouichi would be feeling the same kind of pressure.

in an attempt to make it more interesting for me, chiaki and teruo are now siblings. or close cousins. or something. (what if they were fraternal twins?? that would be so funny actually. there is a statistically improbable amount of twins here!) AND bc i like chiaki the most i think she'd make a cool leader of sorts! like, the lancer to kouichi. kouichi ends up accidentally being the leader bc hes so driven, and chiakis like, a genuinely nice person who really wants to help the digital world as soon as she steps off the first trailmon onto the flame terminal. she also doesnt take shit from anyone. maybe she was a quiet wallflower-type kid at school, but, if its for another's sake, then she'll always speak up! so now, in the digital world, she cant stay quiet!

ah i love just making shit up. this is fun

so together, they make the most chillest leader/lancer duo ever. (hey, if they WERE to be the two Main Ones, wouldnt it be cool if their Susanoomon-type evolution was deep-sea themed? mix darkness and water together, and you get The Fucking Abyss. it could be bioluminescent! a cool way to turn "light into darkness!")

btw, im not drawing any spirit forms here bc I think these kids would have alternative spirit forms as opposed to the evil ones in the show. like, heroic looking ones (basically, no child deserves to have to spirit evolve into grottomon) BUT im no good at character design and that sounds like a lotta work. also, the other spirits (fairymon, chakkmon, agnimon, etc,) would need evil forms too then, right?? that sounds like a REALLY hard thing to try drawing, so nah. just imagine these kids spirit evolving and fighting offscreen. speaking of the other spirits though,

i want chakkmon/tomoki to try pummeling the shit out of katsuharu and teppei!! karmas a bitch!! tomoki didnt get to have his character development in this AU, bc he (probably) fell off the trailmon train tracks and got Got by cherubimon!

i like the main frontier kids too much to not include them in everything i draw Ever, so imagine that maybe they all came to the digital world alone, and wandered around until they found their respective spirits (in similar circumstances to the show) but since those spirits belongto cherubimon, theyre possessed/convinced to fight on cherubimons side!! like "oh shit i have no friends and i hate my life, yea this big evil bunny has a point lets go fuck shit up". maybe some of them are fully in control of their actions, maybe some arent. maybe some of them remember that theyre human, but maybe some of them dont....?

lastly, i have to apologize bc i got completely sidetracked bc i thought "oh takuya and kouji would be very funny as team rocket-esque villains" so heres flamon and strabimon but Evil™

i like to imagine that theyre the Most Incompetent of cherubimons Evil Guys but theyre the only two (that cherubimon knows of) that can form susanoomon so THATS why hes trying to collect all the spirits. bc of that, they DEFINITELY dont remember that theyre human. (bc of that, they also kind of dont have anything to care about, so theyre just trying to have fun)

it would be fun if they were initially kind of lame but although they may be idiots, theyre not Dumb, so they slowly become competent at the same rate as the Heroes do, and instead of a sephirothmon arc theres like.......a beowolfmon and aldamon arc??? im not a writer i dont know. watch these five kids (and counting!) get slowly hunted by two fucking Beasts in the darkest forest ever.

or maybe they do Actually manage to collect all the spirits but it goes so horribly wrong and now theres like ten goddamn kids and ten spirits mashed up in the psyche of a very unstable susanoomon and its just some fucked up Twisted psychological nightmare. digimon evangelion.

basically in this AU, there is even MORE wild tone shifts and the plot goes Absolutely Fucking Bonkers. and takuya's cosplaying Jotaro Kujo for some fucking unknown reason.

thank you for asking! this was....probably not what you were going for, but c'est la vie

[carmylasso]

out of the woods (jason sudeikis x reader)

summary: after your boss sets you up on a date with your longest celebrity crush, you were pretty sure that was as wild as your friday was gonna get...turns out you shouldn't be tempting fate.

warnings: anxious thoughts, smutty inclinations, olivia.

a/n: so....i wrote the nanny thing? this is mostly fluffy and a lot self indulgent. obviously the kids are mentioned and will be making appearances in later parts, so if you feel uncomfortable with that, skip this one. 

hope you like it! (you can totally curse me for that ending. i know)

tagging some friends without who this would never see the light of the day @calzone-d @thisismysecondrodeo @tedssweaters

statistically speaking, you shouldn't be nervous: it's not like that's the first time you step into the house – by now you could probably say where everything is stored in that kitchen, or slid a joke over the fact that he's obviously organized the living room a bit before you came over tonight – or as if the man at the stove is a stranger by any means.

however, statistically speaking, the chances of you being here tonight, just you and jason, in a date, were never that great to begin with, so...

no, scratch that. up to 6 months ago, there was simply no starting scenario that ended up here, even if alexi never missed a chance to tease you about him whenever the man was brought up. one downside of being friends your boss, you figure. as the years passed, you gave up "hiding" your stupid, incurable celebrity crush on jason sudeikis, even around her and seth. it was harmless, after all. made your face warm with embarrassment when you overheard plans that included him being made? without a fault, but it usually granted you a night off if the man was coming to the house.

til they sat you down one morning to ask if you'd be interested in meeting his kids, seth's eyes gleaming with mischief as he held his hands together in a plea for you to not forget you loved their boys, who would miss you terribly if you sacked them for a hot, newly single comedian.

the three of you were laughing when you told him to kindly fuck the hell off.

except now jason's here, close enough to touch. he's here, and this feels like a whole lot more than flirty jokes late at night, more than stolen glances after a big award ceremony, his hair a mess, clothes askew. certainly more than the almost kiss that got you here in the first place, the feeling of his hand on the side of your neck as he said if he was gonna kiss you he'd do it properly still burning your skin days later. this is real, it's deliberate.

so fuck statistics, you're a mess.

"i need to tell you something" the voice brings you back to the moment, watching as he sets down a plate full of gooey cookies right by the glass of wine he poured you earlier "i'm a fraude. i actually can't bake to save my life" his face is full of guilt as he drops down on the fluffy carpet, the fabric of his trousers raising goosebumps on the exposed skin of your thighs. "if you said you wanted dinner, that i could work with. dessert...brought out the worst in me, i'm afraid" you're trying not to laugh at the man's proneness to the dramatics when he breaks one of the warm sweets in half, practically moaning around the first bite "worth it. so fucking worth it, yn"

"what did you do? these look amazing" it's chocolate ones, big and melting, your favorite kind.

"asked otis to take a pic of the box last time you got 'em from your favorite place"

"really?"

"i'm a terrible father, i know. in my defense, i did try making a batch before i resorted to cheating with help from my child, i promise you"

"jason! you didn't need to do that. we could have gone for ice-cream or something, that'd be just fine" the thought of him trying and failing to make you your favorite food was all too endearing, sweet and amusing to the same degree.

"you're picturing it right now, aren't you? it wasn't pretty, yn. smoke detectors went off, yet the things were still raw on the inside? i mean, how?" his body turned to you, knees bumping while your eyes trailed the way his long fingers broke bits and pieces of chocolate to bring it to his mouth. "these on the other hand..." you felt caught by the grin spreading over the man's face, so you took a bite too.

"fuck me!" the words rang in your ears a second too late to be taken back. if this wasn't the only thing that made it better somedays– you foresaw a long trip to john's in the near future, always one to drown your sorrows in sweets rather than the often sour taste of alcohol – you'd be cursing the place with more fervor right now.

"see, i had a feeling ice-cream wasn't gonna get me that" you felt yourself warm up when the guy winked at you, voice dropping an octave.

"i hate you" from the way he was still staring, he didn't believe your words for a second: sometimes it was good being a terrible liar, after all. "i'll have you know that the right ice-cream could get you this"

"really? where can i find it? for future reference, i mean"

"you'll be the first to know when i have it locked in. jury's still out" you snook in a little taste from different shops every time you had his babies, but he didn't need the details. if anyone was aware of how hard some days could be, it was him. the media frenzy seemed to get worse every week, not that you were keeping track (you definitely were. it was hard not to, harder once you got to know them)

"i'll be waiting"

was it possible to go through the whole spectrum of emotions in just a few hours? it had always been a silly type of question for you. you felt everything so deeply that switching up was never that easy, but, with some comedy playing on the tv, the nerves cursing through you were far different from the ones earlier: now, sprawled out on his carpet, the knowledge that jase was pressed up close didn't freak you out, it made you relaxed, even if were painfully aware of every little touch, every accidental nudge when laughter made his body shake, head resting on a Frozen themed pillow. you were surrounded by the man: the heat from his body, his scent, the way he pulled you back every time you started to drift away a few inches

you were almost drowning in him, yet all it seemed to do was make matters worse. you should've guessed it: if not for anything else, for the way your stupid heart picked up it's pace whenever you managed to make him laugh over the time you'd known him, the way every weird little thing you learned by being around seemed important. it would never be enough, not when it came to this man, would it?

"i...think i should go" before you got sucked in any deeper.

"wha' happened?" he sat up when you did, back pressed to the couch, eyebrows scrunching together as his mind played back the last couple hours. what had he done wrong? "yn. hey, what's it? was it me? did i do something?"

"no! jason, no. it's fine. you were wonderful" this felt all too easy, was the thing. nothing happened, you hadn't even kissed yet, but here you were, all in your head, getting carried away to some point in the future where this was some sort of routine to your days. stupid. it might feel easy, but it wasn't. it wouldn't be, not out of your naive fantasies, anyway. your phone was on top of the centerpiece, your purse hanging from the coat hack down the hall. good.

"you're running off like the house's on fire, sweetheart. i can't be that good" his laugh was humorless, his eyes earnest as he moved slowly, intertwining your fingers. "i'm sorry"

that did it. the way he was so quick to apologize for something that he didn't even know what was broke you.

"is it okay if i kiss you?" it wasn't much more than a whisper, all the bravado you had melting away when he didn't look away, nodding his head.

"only if you want to" this whole exchange was just short of giving you both whiplash, yet it was better do something insane than it was to just leave. if you kissed him, you would have that. even when he inevitably decided not to see you again. you would know what it felt like. "do you?" it felt like deja vu but it wasn't, his fingers caressing your cheek, the hold steady but gentle, like he knew you needed that point of contact as you brought yourself closer.

he tasted sweet, warm, the kiss tentative, each drag of your mouths together making a shiver run down your spine. for a moment it didn't go any further, then his lips parted a bit and you pushed yourself more into his space, tongue darting out as strong hands rumpled the material of your dress while yours pulled at the hair on the back of his head

one second you were awkwardly kneeling on the floor, trying to breathe and kiss and commit every second of this to memory, the next he was pulling you into him. onto him. like he wanted this as much you did, the scruff from a couple days without shaving causing you to moan into his ear whenever jason drew back to let you breathe, his mouth never leaving you, just diving down to your neck, your collarbone, any patch of skin he could reach without having to let you go before he came back up for more.

"off!" you're sure there's an ebb to be made about all those freaking layers but the one word is all you manage as you pull on the green hoodie he chose for the night, grinning when its out of your way, his sly smile morphing into something darker as you grind yourself into the man's lap, just a bit, seeking friction. he's hard under you, tense, like's he's trying to figure out how far he can take this tonight, how far you want him to. "jas..." whatever was about to follow that whisper of his name gets cut off by the harsh sound of his doorbell.

"fuck's sake" it's a deep groan, head flexing back to look at the ceiling, nervous laugh bubbling in your throat when his hold goes stronger for a second "a fucker, whoever that is. can you please get that?"

"gotta let me up first, sir" seems like a conscious effort to ease his grip, your legs a bit wobbly when you stand up, trying to reorient yourself with arousal burning deep in your veins.

if your knees were unsteady as you walked to the door, he didn't need to know.

"is jason home?" that voice is a like a bucket of icy water over your head, eyes blinking fast at the porch light glow illuminating harsh green eyes raking through you.

olivia. olivia is here. shit.

"yeah, he's..." she pushes you out of the way then, carrying a sleeping daisy in her arms through the hall, otis holding onto the back of her coat til he spots you.

"YN!" his voice is loud and excited, body crashing into yours in a tight grasp "did you know we were coming home?"

if only it was that simple, little guy.

[galaxgay]

In this post about Aziraphale reveling in Crowley's trust, @ravenofazarath2 got me thinking about why Crowley is actually so different from all the other angels and demons. It's definitely something that has stuck out to me especially since S2 but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

(Apologies, this meta is gonna be unnecessarily long and also might be missing information because I need to rewatch S1 and haven't read the book yet. Also, this meta is just for fun so take it with a grain of silly salt 💕)

@ravenofazarath2 mentioned that maybe Crowley isn't brainwashed like Aziraphale (and all the other ethereal beings) because he bit the apple- The apple that contains the Knowledge of Good and Evil. And I am now going insane because wait a second-

When we see him in Eden he says this line, speculating on why it's so wrong to have the knowledge of good and evil. It's such an... interesting thing to say- especially for an ethereal.

Sure, he could very much be talking about Adam and Eve choosing to eat the apple and being kicked from Eden for it (Landlords and their obnoxious rules🙄), but for fun, I'd like to play with another idea.

To be a bit more philosophical, I want to preface this theory by saying "knowing the difference between good and evil" means understanding its many complexities. It means knowing there are times where good deeds are poisoned with malice or even have evil unintended consequences and evil deeds can be justified by means outside of one's control and have good consequences- and what is good for one person, may be evil for another.

Angels and demons do not have this "knowledge". They have their strict rules and codes that they follow almost compulsively and are all collectively in on this bit. Good and Evil are almost always about immediate action and never factor in consequences. They recognize good and evil based on their respective sides. Nothing more, nothing less.

Additionally, the phrasing of that line is interesting to me. It kind of sounds like "as someone who has bit the apple, gained that knowledge and can now see the difference between good and evil, (and perhaps fell/was punished for it himself) I don't get what's so wrong with that knowledge."

The reason I don't think this is too much of a reach is because sure, halo-hugging angels who are still apart of the "cult" are going to be brainwashed, but what's so strange to me is that demons, who are fallen angels and have supposedly seen both sides themselves, don't seem to share Crowley's sentiment. Not a single one. They seem almost as brainwashed as the angels are. Is that not bizarre? Not to be a nerd but statistically speaking, at least one other demon should be able to agree, right? Why is it only Crowley?

Because it's not about seeing both sides, it's about understanding both sides. Something you can only do, if you take a bite.

(Sure, one could say the demon's quest to ruin humanity could be an act of rebellion and revenge but again, why is it all of them? I feel like at least a few of them would in one way or another agree with Crowley, even the littlest bit and they don't.)

In S1, we get this beautifully dramatic frame where Crowley says "I only ever asked questions". Which of course, is a line that everyone has been scrambling back to after seeing angel Crowley in S2. Which makes me think of this ask that Neil Gaiman answered:

Crowley's implication of not deserving to fall and Neil Gaiman saying that Crowley isn't a reliable narrator when it comes to his fall are certainly opposing views but why can't they both be correct? (we're exercising DBT today for fun)

If we know anything about Good Omens, it's that the entire theme of the story hinges on perspective. How the same instance can be viewed dramatically different depending on who is watching and where their morals are aligned. For both of these things to be true, Crowley would probably see his fall as a punishment for having simple curiosity. To Neil Gaiman, a much more neutral, outside observer, Crowley's fall wouldn't have been such a random, out of place happening. Which leads me to wonder what the Great War was even about. (I'm assuming the Great War happened before Eden-)

Perhaps it was about asking questions and making suggestions.

It seems kind of silly to say but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. If the Great War is what caused many of the angels to fall, it would make sense that the center of that war would be a lack of faith. And the thing about faith is a lot of the time there's this idea that you should hang your questions aside and choose to believe- questions can oftentimes be seen as a threat or a lack of faith. Even more so are suggestions. I believe Aziraphale's reaction to Crowley's questions and suggestions in S2E1 are a perfect example of this being just the case.

I can imagine Crowley, and many of the higher ranking angels such as Lucifer and Beelzebub finding each other to all have the same questions and suggestions and doubts about the future of the universe. Having the rank they had, I could see them planning to go to God to ask questions- they, at this point, have no reason to believe anything should happen to them should they ask questions.

With them having those questions, I could also see there being a rift between the Angels who wished to ask questions, and those who strongly opposed it. And as they debated it, it snowballed out of control turning into a full-on war.

(Small note: sure maybe they became demons before the war actually officially starts but I still think this theory could hold pretty strongly.)

Crowley was on the side of asking questions and making suggestions. They did in fact fight with the other angels who ended up falling. Her questions and suggestions were viewed as a lack of faith. If you view faith as being able to hang up your questions and doubts, it actually was a lack of faith. To Neil Gaiman and katiebird2000's point, Crowley's fall was in fact just the consequences of his actions. To say "all I ever did was ask questions" is to negate all of the other things Crowley did.

(I'd also like to throw out there that faith in this circumstance is faith in God, not faith in doing good which I think explains a large portion of Crowley's morality throughout the story because God and good are not synonymous. Crowley believes in doing the right thing but does not believe God is the one to do it.)

And so Crowley fell. To his point of view, he fell for simply having questions. So when Crowley heard about the Tree of Knowledge, she had to go. When they heard the word "Knowledge" they probably thought taking a bite would answer their questions- provide her with the thing she was denied in Heaven. It was also the perfect first act of rebellion- to indulge in something he was not meant to indulge in.

But when he took a bite, something completely different happened. The wool over her eyes had been peeled back and suddenly the universe became so much more complicated. Perhaps tempting Eve to eat the apple was originally about temptation but then became an act of setting them free- to give them the right to choose just like the apple did for Crowley.

And everything from there on is history.

I think that's why Crowley not only loves humanity but also why Crowley himself is so human: that is the one thing he shares with humanity- the knowledge and understanding that good and evil are not mutually exclusive. Knowing that good and evil are tied by a red string of fate, destined to dance circles around one another eternally.

[secretlythepits]

4 Months or 2 Years

When my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer, she was told she had 4 months to live. She had 11 masses in her brain. She tried full brain radiation but it didn’t have much of an effect. When we saw her oncologist, we expected a transfer to hospice.

Instead she threw out chemo and said maybe Mom could live for 2 more years. Mom never wanted chemo because she had witnessed its brutality on her brother and sister. We questioned quality of life and her oncologist spoke about her patient who just called her from a trip to California.

We left the appointment dumbfounded and went to a cafe to discuss it over sale and Nanaimo bars. We had already literally settled everything up with the funeral parlor. We had accepted the hard truth. At lunch Mom decided to try chemo, but her heart wasn’t in it. I think she felt like she had to for her girls. It just didn’t feel right, but what do you do with that information? You can’t crumple 2 years into a ball and make a basket in the trash can.

She did one round. It was awful. That’s not what this post is about. She died 4 months from her diagnosis. I think the 2 years was never really on the table. Don’t let anyone tell you hope is always a good thing. It can wield tremendous cruelty through delusion.

My mother died 7 hours before I was getting on a plane to take over her care. There are more than medical decisions that get made based on what an oncologist says. For 4 months, I could stay the whole time. I wanted to. I planned to. But 2 years was a different story. My kids couldn’t be away from their dad for that long. My sister had to work and care for her family too. My sister and I decided to rotate care. I started homeschooling my kids so we could be wherever whenever.

4 months or 2 years?

You make different decisions. Financial decisions. Logistical decisions. Communication decisions.

I have an idea of my husband’s timeline, but nothing definitive. There’s a giant question mark about immunotherapy that is unknowable from the onset. There are strong statistical probabilities.

This is what I’m wresting with now and I’ll use my mother’s timelines for a framework. To be clear, these are not my husband’s timeline projections, but the idea is the same. Is the end sooner or later?

Do I speak up about issues in our marriage and push for my needs?

4 Months:

No. Forgive and let go. Focus on the fundamental love and don’t add an emotional burden to him. I could do this easily in this time frame.

2 Years:

Yes. That’s too long to let hurt fester. It will bubble up anyway. There’s also a real possibility of resolving some or all of it, which would be amazing. I cannot suppress my feelings for years. I would be consumed with anger and resentment.

Do I put my goals on the back burner to prioritize his?

4 Months:

Yes. I will have more time and his is finite. Also, I’d want to maximize our time together.

2 Years:

No. I can give up some but not all. What if 2 years is 3 years or 4? I am coming off of a 3 1/2 year brain infection. I lost so much time. Then I immediately had to support his first cancer journey. And before all that, it was my mom dying. I’ve had nonstop emergencies for 6 years and I clawed my way from the edge of death. I can’t just turn over all my next years. My time is finite too.

But here’s the tricky part. He will only get worse. So, although it makes sense to be tending to him now as this is new and we are figuring things out, I might miss the only realistic opportunity I have to keep my life from being swallowed up by caregiving. The only certainty I know is that later will be worse.

How much time do I devote to building my finances?

Ah, maybe these are the same for both timelines. I’m struggling with being present to the moments and bucking down to focus on providing. Do I continue building my business, the dream I worked so hard for, that got dashed so many times these last 6 years? Or do I chuck it, take some classes to get a certification that would lead to a job I would hate, but would provide a stable income? He could have an emergency and no longer work at any moment. But, that’s also unlikely. Arg!

I hate that I am back in this 4 months or 2 years place. It was torture for me. I remember people telling me I couldn’t make a wrong choice.

I felt like I couldn’t make a right one and it paralyzed me.

Now that I think about it, in the end, I decided to make the choice that was best for me. The toxicity of extended family dynamics was too much for me. I decided mom made her choices (smoking) and I had an equal right to make mine (removing myself from a situation that unhinged me). Mom also wanted space to process after the onslaught of visitors. She needed some solitude. So I left and went home to calm down and recenter myself in my life and in the family I created. Rotating her care was practical but also gave me breathing room that I needed. I could have and would have stayed if we knew it was just 4 months, but I can’t deny that something really important happened to me when I took that break. I think I would have broken without it.

This is stream of consciousness so I didn’t know I’d land on the paragraph above. I just wanted to say what I was trying to figure out, what was hurting my heart. But now I think I landed on a compass. And it rings true because I feel my North Star blinking.

I have to continue to live my own life.

I always knew that. Always know that. The reason that truth felt out of reach is all the social conditioning around being a support. Women are expected to give up everything to be a caregiver, while one of the predictors of imminent divorce is a wife’s serious diagnosis. I am experiencing a personal crisis that exists within the context of our societal dynamic and it would be disingenuous to pretend I was immune to the influences of the patriarchy. And the thing is, I know what to do. It’s more of fear of judgement for doing what I know is right.

Two truths exist simultaneously:

I want to take care of him. I really, really do.

I want to take care of myself. I really, really do.

Why does one of those feel like a mandate and the other a source of guilt? Why the dichotomy?

Why is love for myself always supposed to be second place?

One thing is for sure: with 2 dead parents, a dying spouse, and kids to look after, nobody is going to take care of me

but me.

[celestie0]

Hi ellie! hru doinn!

gojo would be getting the sloppiest messiest head from me if he pulled any shit like that “statistically speaking 🤓☝️” post said skhdjd.

i also like to think that he had some dating app installed for a very short period n for the prompts like “pet peeve” he probably said things like “unequal pay, systematic oppression of women in workplace, pink taxes, ppl who dont read feminist literature ugh”

ouu n have u seen that one manga panel of gojo saying something like “like i give a damn about guys’ hardships”. feminist gojo is canon n kickoff gojo does things to impress the girlies (n it always works)

im not fazed by things like these but with gojo? he can have me! plz dont tell him i said that

zuro anon

HIII ZURO BB <33 i’m doing ok tyyy my love :”) a lil tired today but i got my iced coffees so im ready to be bouncing off the walls soon 😼 how are you doing today? 💕

gojo would be getting the sloppiest messiest head from me if he pulled any shit like that “statistically speaking 🤓☝️” post said skhdjd.

this is the realest thing ever i swear to god 😭 you n me are so locked in on this loser boy n pussy desperate gojo agenda AND I HATE THAT WE WOULD FALL FOR IT LMFAO 🤣 we gots to go to horny jail 😞😞

YOU’re SO RIGHT ABOUT THE DATING PROMPTS LMFAOOO

this was gojo’s entire hinge profile fr ^

(also i realized i made a typo n typed system oppression instead of systemic oppression but i feel like that’s something gojo wld do too so imma leave it like that 🤣🤣)

also yesss that panel of him is one of my faves 😭🤣 he was so hot for that tho i swear when i first saw that scene i was like 🤭 heheheheheheheeh i just know he’d give his woman the ultimate pricness treatment 😩😩

i’d like to think kickoff gojo became a feminist to get girls n then the more he looked into it he was like🧍🏻‍♀️oh damn this shits fr fucked up. n then he became adult gojo “I DONT CARE ABOUT MEN’S HARDSHIPS!!! GO CHEW ON A BRICK OR SUMN GATDAMN!!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT WOMEN HAVE TO GO THROUGH EVERYDAY?!?!! 😤😤”

he’s a lil confused at times but he’s got the spirit 🧚‍♀️✨

[loumauve]

For the Character Ask! Right backatcha while I think on your asks, 17 and 18 for Silga and Untalla!

(in reference to this ask meme)

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about

---

gonna drop the entirety of this under a read more bc it's likely to get long with even just the poems (no, I did not leaf through my collection of 15+ poetry books just for this) (also, no songs, sadly, not yet. I'll send you a message on discord tho if I do decide on some in the future)

also, the reason this reply is late is because I wanted to take my time with finding the right songs, but then that never happened because of me losing my mind over Jesse and Emily once again other distractions, so I figured I'd rather get around to it now because I love them and I think about them all the time and I didn't want you to think I was ignoring them

Untalla is a bit hard for me to pin down, so I'm going off vibes here

i never expected death to be my most faithful companion, but she is the only one who will come without having to be asked. - the only one who will never leave (from the princess saves herself in this one by Amanda Lovelace)

This is me, I am the eye of the storm and my heart is a little broken. But if you want me, I'm yours. (from Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell)

[..] The Grieved - are many - I am told - There is the various Cause - Death - is but one - and comes but once - And only nails the eyes - There's Grief of Want - and Grief of Cold - A sort they call "Despair" - [..] (part of poem 561 from The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson by.. well, Emily Dickinson, my eternally beloved)

Silga is a whole load of grief and longing, if I had more hope-filled poetry books I would have tried to find a hopeful one as well. I think that would suit her, but alas

what do we do with all the things we need to say to someone we'll never see again? - maybe that's why i write (from to drink coffee with a ghost by Amanda Lovelace)

I wish that it were easier for me to explain that you won't really get inside my head for a long time even though I want you to crawl inside my mind as badly as I want to curl up with a flashlight inside of yours and read for hours on end [..] (part of Things I Would Like To Tell You but Probably Won't (At least, not for a very long time) from High Wire Darlings by Kalyn RoseAnne Livernois)

[..] The thing about heartbreak is it feels too big for your body. You become cavernous - A walking Mariana Trench. Nobody knows how deep you go because the pressure is heavy enough to fold bodies into paper cranes and naive enough to call this beautiful. [..] (part of Survivor's Guilt from Wrong Side of a Fistfight by Ashe Vernon)

..and THEM because I love them

I was lying beside you and you had this half smile because my hands were drifting down your spine. And you looked at me and I lost track of everything. Because I realised just how badly I want under your skin. (from Pillow Thoughts by Courtney Peppernell)

[..] Do not dote on me Do not say anything about my eyes when we are watching the stars I will know you adore me by the way you remove the space between us before we fall asleep It will be in your eyes even when you didn't mean to tell me [..] (part of Irromantic from High Wire Darlings by Kalyn RoseAnne Livernois)

[..] Find the pocket of your heartbeat where you keep Forgiveness. We will try again tomorrow - I know you've got a bone to pick with tomorrow, but it's coming anyway. [..] You think you've seen every ugly corner of this whole rotten world, but listen: There is an infinite number of things we don't know and, statistically speaking, at least half of them are probably very, very beautiful. (part of Post-Panic Attack from Wrong Side of a Fistfight by Ashe Vernon)

as for therapy.. oof.

how many hours do they have? lol obviously a LOT of grief counselling, trauma processing for both of them. and maybe they can go to couple's therapy together, even if they're not dating, just to figure out how to best communicate and support each other. and maybe figure out what kind of intimacy is the kind they want and can handle. sometimes it can help to have external structure for those kinds of conversations

[quinloki]

Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 3: Sand Trap

"Ah... no, it's f-fine." Your face goes red, and your body tries to disappear in on itself.

There's an amused note in his voice when he speaks. "It seems sixty days of conversation is evaporating right before my eyes."

You flinch, feeling guilty. "Sorry! Sorry, I uh..." You cover your face with your hands. "Of all the statistical possibilities, I wasn't prepared for this."

He chuckles, it's a warm sound that seems to stay in his chest. "Understandably. I do hope you'll decide to stay, at least."

"I... yes." You relax. You'd been having really great conversations with him for the last two months, and it wouldn't be fair to just leave.

More pointedly, would you survive, if you just walked out on a Freakin' WARLORD?!

"Try not to think of me as your boss, Miss?"

"My boss' boss' boss." You correct, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. "And it's (Y/N). (Y/N)(L/N), uh... sir."

"If you're not comfortable saying my name in public, you can call me Sunawani." He offers, picking up a menu and looking it over.

"Sunawani?"

"Mmhm. It's just a different language from what's used in the Metro." He clarifies, looking up from the menu to glance at you. "What do you think?"

"Uh, I think I can use that more easily." You admit, grabbing a menu as well, and unproductively reading over it. The words on the menu swim around with one another and nothing makes sense to you. Your nerves are killing you. When you had started talking with him over the website you had assumed that he had like, something physically wrong with him. It was a terrible assumption to make, but he was educated, and charismatic and understanding in every word that had come across your screen.

You hadn't figured the reason behind him having a hard time finding someone trustworthy was because he was a FREAKING HOT SUCCESSFUL WARLORD. You never mentioned the Underground while you had spoken, you hadn't even shared opinions on marines or the government.

Oh no how were you going to tell Alvida? What were you going to tell Buggy! Wait, why did you need to tell anyone anything? You got stood up. Plain and simple. This never happened. It was a delightful afternoon, and the food was really good, you could recommend the café, but that was it.

Your decision helped you refocus on the menu, and you were finally starting to sort out what was being offered.

Shortly after, Vivi came over and introduced herself.

"I'm Vivi, I'll be your server today." She says cheerfully. You could tell she was happy for you. "Have you decided what you'll have today, or do you need a few more minutes?"

"I know what I'd like, but I think my companion may need a few more moments." Crocodile offers, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Oh, uh, no – no, I can sort out what I want by the time you're done ordering." You assure him. Please gods just get the food out here and give you something to distract yourself with.

"Very well. I'll have the flank steak and eggs then. Medium rare, eggs sunny side up, and I believe your house blend coffee to drink." His voice drifts around almost lazily. There was no CEO or Warlord sitting across from you, but a half-asleep man who was probably missing his cigar. If you were half as relaxed as he sounded you'd be in a coma.

"And you, miss?" Vivi prompts after a moment.

"You know, what he ordered sounds delicious. I'll have the same, but uh, maybe some green tea instead of coffee."

"Same prep for the steak and eggs?"

"Oh yes, thank you."

Vivi takes your menus and excuses herself. You look around the table, wanting something to materialize in front of you so you could focus on it. The golden amber gaze from the other side of the table was drilling a hole into your soul, and he wasn't even staring rudely.

"If you can tell me what has you so nervous, Miss (Y/N), I can help alleviate it." He assures you coolly. His tone of voice and cadence make you feel like you could admit that you know he's a warlord and he wouldn't be at all bothered by it.

You laugh nervously, open your mouth a couple times only to close it. Putting your hand over your mouth and take in a breath, and when you finally speak you, voice is very small. "I did not expect you to be hot." You finally manage, looking up from between your fingers. He has the same relaxed, near-sleepy look on his face that you had seen earlier, but now with a slight smile tugging at his lips; which only makes him look better.

"Second to that I am worried about how this impacts work." You admit, after he doesn't say anything to your first point. "I've never dated a coworker, let alone..."

"Your boss' boss' boss."

"Yeah, that." Your face is pink, and you can feel the heat in your ears.

"I sense a third point," he says softly, catching your gaze for a moment.

"Ah... yeah, I'd rather not say yet." You admit honestly.

His eyes seem to search you for a moment, despite their half-lidded and relaxed appearance you feel like they're fully focused.

"Well, working two out of three concerns should be enough to start." He acquiesces after a moment's consideration. "Thank you for your compliment earlier."

"Compliment? Oh, yeah, you're welcome." You keep trying to will your face from turning any redder.

Vivi comes by with your drinks and sets them down with a smile. You're glad to have something to distract yourself with and cup your cup of green tea between your hands like it could save you.

"Food will be just a few more minutes." She assures you both and sets down glasses of ice water to go with your warm drinks.

"Thank you," Crocodile says, his eyes still on you and you just nod, not sure you can trust your voice right now.

"Would this be easier for you if I were ugly?" He questions, amusement just under the surface of his smooth voice after Vivi leaves.

You nearly choke on your tea.

"Nnngh, yes maybe?" You laugh a little at yourself, feeling some of the tension ease. "If you were like... normal levels of, uh, looking." You falter, not wanting to add a qualifier that would just be another way of calling him hot. "That would, uh, help."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have tried to cover up my scar." He muses.

It's a trap, and you walk right into it. "I've seen your scar; it just makes it worse."

"Worse?"

"Yeah, it, uh..." You flush brightly, realizing what you've muttered yourself into, trying to disappear into your teacup. "Makes... you... look... hotter."

You chug the rest of your tea, trying to ignore the very pointed, very pleased, gaze across the table from you. With the teacup empty you reach for one of the glasses of water.

"Thirsty?"

Phrasing! Yes! Dammit! Thoughts rush through your head and you stop yourself mid-move to take a drink.

"Ah, sorry." You say, not really sure what exactly you're apologizing for.

"You have nothing to apologize for, if anything I should apologize for teasing you." He admits, a sly smile pulling at his lips. "But you seem to have relaxed a little."

You sigh a little, since you can't argue, "Just... ah, if you could assure me... promise, maybe?"

"Nothing that happens between us will negatively effect your job." He states easily.

"Or positively." You prompt.

That one eyebrow goes up again as he takes a sip of coffee. "Naïve, but admiral. Very well, neither positive nor negative impacts at work due to whatever may happen between us, I promise."

You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding, and your shoulders relax. Vivi arrives with your lunches and gets you a refill of green tea. Conversation tapers off a little as you eat, but the food and the tea were helping you relax the rest of the way. Granted, most of your relaxation came from knowing you weren't going to lose your job if this was the last date you shared with him.

Point three was kind of big, and you weren't sure if it was safe to even admit to it. He seemed sure he could smooth over any of your concerns, but Warlord was a bit larger than anything else. You couldn't imagine he'd walk away from that life for you, and you were certain you couldn't live within that life without dying to the stress. Assuming you survived long enough to die to something as gentle as stress.

The conversation afterward was casual and easy. Crocodile seemed more awake after some coffee, and while he still looked sleepy and relaxed, there was more energy in his words.

"I would like to continue doing this," the words slip from him before you can muster up the courage to thank him for his time and leave. His fingers brush against yours, and you couldn't move your hand away. Warm, large fingers slip over yours with more confidence and he's practically holding your hand when he speaks again. "I can promise you discretion, Miss (Y/N). I simply don't wish to let every joy you've brought me the last couple of months crumble to dust so easily."

That guilty feeling throbs within you again. It's obvious that someone in his situation would find it hard to connect with anyone the way you two had the last two months. The man you knew from the last two months was kind, attentive, intelligent, and even tempered. He was a good person, even if things had caused him to live in a way that was, admittedly, kind of terrifying to you.

Warlords were at least backed by the Government. They had been assigned specifically to create a barrier around the growing territories of the Emperors, allowing the government to press the four emperors from both sides. The well defended holy zone in the middle of the Metro, and the sprawling rural and suburban areas beyond the Warlords' territory. The Emperors, stuck between the two, had to follow certain rules if they wanted to continue to receive supplies.

It was an uneasy balance of power between the three groups.

"No one would know." You say softly.

"No one."

"I just... I don't want to see my picture in the paper without warning." Your excuse is a little weak, but no less true.

"No picture would make it to print." He promises, and there's a dark and nearly terrifying weight to that promise.

You chew the bottom of your lip lightly, trying to decide. He tightens his grip on your hand just a little, lifting it up and kissing one of your fingers gently. Your face flushes, and your mind is already trying to decide what his kisses must feel like.

"Once more, just decide that for now. You can think on things between now and the next occasion. I can promise you won't regret doing this once more."

Once more. Once more couldn't hurt. Once more, maybe even twice more. Enough to assuage your own guilt, maybe even get over your own fears. Once more. Just enough time to learn what that forbidden kiss tastes like. Once more. Enough time to know what this warm hand feels like, brushing across skin more needy than a few fingers.

"Once more." You agree, your face flushing to your ears, you pull your hand back and his expression falters just ever so slightly. "P-perhaps twice." You admit softly, and see a soft sly smile curl at the edges of his lips.

[taffywabbit]

I generally agree with most of the things you post about, but that recent reblog just really rubs me the wrong way. I think I understand the frustration's the OP got, but I don't know, it sorta comes across to me as "I just WISH people would've came to this realization in THIS SPECIFIC WAY" which is just...unrealistic? I feel as though it's almost a slap in the face to Bushnell himself, who probably knew exactly why he had to do what he did. He knew a lot of people WOULDN'T pay attention unless someone like him did something. An unfortunate reality, but, one that seems to at the very least worked. It is sad that he had to do such a thing, but at the same time I don't think it's in the right place to blame such people for not coming to this realization beforehand. I feel these people are vindicated for having been able to be drawn to whats happening. HOW they were drawn in really shouldn't...matter? I think there are people far more worthy of criticism and scorn than those whose eyes were opened by something closer to home than our own. And I think it's extremely disrespectful to Bushnell's act to look at the reaction of it and complain that it served as a catalyst for some people when they should've been more aware from the get go. Should they have? Yes. Is it realistic to expect the vast majority of the North American populace to be that aware of whats going on? No. Sadly. It isn't. Which is exactly why Bushnell did what he did.

i didn't really take it that way, i read it more as merely regret that it took this long AND such a blatant, violent display of protest for the reality of the situation to finally reach a lot of people (particularly in light of how much western news media outlets have been trying to keep the specifics and severity out of the public eye). i looked at that post not as any sort of disrespect towards Bushnell's sacrifice, but rather a frustration with how numb people often are to seeing faceless numbers and statistics in connection with tragedies these days. most american/canadian/british/etc news media LOVES to focus on "main characters" - people you can easily put a name and face to and plaster all over the headlines for people to discuss - and until there's someone like that to latch onto, folks are conditioned to feel like it's none of their business and those big numbers are merely an ongoing fact they cannot change.

if Aaron Bushnell's public suicide was the tipping point for someone to take more active interest in the Palestinian struggle, and reconsider the distorted/suppressed information they may have been receiving about it, that's undeniably a positive outcome and it would be wrong to assert otherwise. that was the goal, that was what he set out to accomplish. the risk comes from overemphasizing him as an individual martyr in all of this, at the cost of pushing the direct victims of the genocide out of the spotlight. considering (as far as i'm aware) the OP of that post i reblogged IS Palestinian, has personally lost loved ones to Israel's violence, and has been a consistent and invaluable resource over the past few months for educating people about the context and history of Palestine's struggles, i'm inclined to try not to take their post about this in bad faith. it doesn't really feel like my place to police their tone, frankly.

ultimately i can't speak on OP's behalf and i also can't control whether other people take away the same things i did from that post. but my personal belief is that Aaron Bushnell's act was bold and selfless and it's deeply unfortunate that things have reached a point where he felt it was necessary. i just also believe that he didn't do it to make himself the center of attention. i have no doubt that his status as a white american military serviceman is a factor in why many people are finally taking this as a wake-up call when they ignored all the previous ones, but i also think he understood that himself to some extent, and used that position of privilege (as well as the shock factor of defying what many americans expect from a man wearing their flag on his shoulder) to help ensure the message was heard by demographics of people who otherwise might not listen. to treat his sacrifice as a singular unique act, rather than one in a chain of many, and to give it special attention and fanfare when that energy could instead be turned to those who are still in need of it, feels like it runs directly counter to his goals. i think we should acknowledge and appreciate Bushnell's effort to sway more people in Palestine's favor, but not let it derail the greater conversation too much for those of us who are already engaged in this cause and do not need further convincing. he used his position to reach people, and it's our job to continue the momentum and help make sure those people know what their newly altered perspective should lead them to do. mourn the dead and fight like hell for the living, as they say

[sir-sunawani]

Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

20 Chapters - 46,838 words

Read it on Ao3 or Wattpad

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 3: Sand Trap

"Ah... no, it's f-fine." Your face goes red, and your body tries to disappear in on itself.

There's an amused note in his voice when he speaks. "It seems sixty days of conversation is evaporating right before my eyes."

You flinch, feeling guilty. "Sorry! Sorry, I uh..." You cover your face with your hands. "Of all the statistical possibilities, I wasn't prepared for this."

He chuckles, it's a warm sound that seems to stay in his chest. "Understandably. I do hope you'll decide to stay, at least."

"I... yes." You relax. You'd been having really great conversations with him for the last two months, and it wouldn't be fair to just leave.

More pointedly, would you survive, if you just walked out on a Freakin' WARLORD?!

"Try not to think of me as your boss, Miss?"

"My boss' boss' boss." You correct, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. "And it's (Y/N). (Y/N)(L/N), uh... sir."

"If you're not comfortable saying my name in public, you can call me Sunawani." He offers, picking up a menu and looking it over.

"Sunawani?"

"Mmhm. It's just a different language from what's used in the Metro." He clarifies, looking up from the menu to glance at you. "What do you think?"

"Uh, I think I can use that more easily." You admit, grabbing a menu as well, and unproductively reading over it. The words on the menu swim around with one another and nothing makes sense to you. Your nerves are killing you. When you had started talking with him over the website you had assumed that he had like, something physically wrong with him. It was a terrible assumption to make, but he was educated, and charismatic and understanding in every word that had come across your screen.

You hadn't figured the reason behind him having a hard time finding someone trustworthy was because he was a FREAKING HOT SUCCESSFUL WARLORD. You never mentioned the Underground while you had spoken, you hadn't even shared opinions on marines or the government.

Oh no how were you going to tell Alvida? What were you going to tell Buggy! Wait, why did you need to tell anyone anything? You got stood up. Plain and simple. This never happened. It was a delightful afternoon, and the food was really good, you could recommend the café, but that was it.

Your decision helped you refocus on the menu, and you were finally starting to sort out what was being offered.

Shortly after, Vivi came over and introduced herself.

"I'm Vivi, I'll be your server today." She says cheerfully. You could tell she was happy for you. "Have you decided what you'll have today, or do you need a few more minutes?"

"I know what I'd like, but I think my companion may need a few more moments." Crocodile offers, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Oh, uh, no – no, I can sort out what I want by the time you're done ordering." You assure him. Please gods just get the food out here and give you something to distract yourself with.

"Very well. I'll have the flank steak and eggs then. Medium rare, eggs sunny side up, and I believe your house blend coffee to drink." His voice drifts around almost lazily. There was no CEO or Warlord sitting across from you, but a half-asleep man who was probably missing his cigar. If you were half as relaxed as he sounded you'd be in a coma.

"And you, miss?" Vivi prompts after a moment.

"You know, what he ordered sounds delicious. I'll have the same, but uh, maybe some green tea instead of coffee."

"Same prep for the steak and eggs?"

"Oh yes, thank you."

Vivi takes your menus and excuses herself. You look around the table, wanting something to materialize in front of you so you could focus on it. The golden amber gaze from the other side of the table was drilling a hole into your soul, and he wasn't even staring rudely.

"If you can tell me what has you so nervous, Miss (Y/N), I can help alleviate it." He assures you coolly. His tone of voice and cadence make you feel like you could admit that you know he's a warlord and he wouldn't be at all bothered by it.

You laugh nervously, open your mouth a couple times only to close it. Putting your hand over your mouth and take in a breath, and when you finally speak you, voice is very small. "I did not expect you to be hot." You finally manage, looking up from between your fingers. He has the same relaxed, near-sleepy look on his face that you had seen earlier, but now with a slight smile tugging at his lips; which only makes him look better.

"Second to that I am worried about how this impacts work." You admit, after he doesn't say anything to your first point. "I've never dated a coworker, let alone..."

"Your boss' boss' boss."

"Yeah, that." Your face is pink, and you can feel the heat in your ears.

"I sense a third point," he says softly, catching your gaze for a moment.

"Ah... yeah, I'd rather not say yet." You admit honestly.

His eyes seem to search you for a moment, despite their half-lidded and relaxed appearance you feel like they're fully focused.

"Well, working two out of three concerns should be enough to start." He acquiesces after a moment's consideration. "Thank you for your compliment earlier."

"Compliment? Oh, yeah, you're welcome." You keep trying to will your face from turning any redder.

Vivi comes by with your drinks and sets them down with a smile. You're glad to have something to distract yourself with and cup your cup of green tea between your hands like it could save you.

"Food will be just a few more minutes." She assures you both and sets down glasses of ice water to go with your warm drinks.

"Thank you," Crocodile says, his eyes still on you and you just nod, not sure you can trust your voice right now.

"Would this be easier for you if I were ugly?" He questions, amusement just under the surface of his smooth voice after Vivi leaves.

You nearly choke on your tea.

"Nnngh, yes maybe?" You laugh a little at yourself, feeling some of the tension ease. "If you were like... normal levels of, uh, looking." You falter, not wanting to add a qualifier that would just be another way of calling him hot. "That would, uh, help."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have tried to cover up my scar." He muses.

It's a trap, and you walk right into it. "I've seen your scar; it just makes it worse."

"Worse?"

"Yeah, it, uh..." You flush brightly, realizing what you've muttered yourself into, trying to disappear into your teacup. "Makes... you... look... hotter."

You chug the rest of your tea, trying to ignore the very pointed, very pleased, gaze across the table from you. With the teacup empty you reach for one of the glasses of water.

"Thirsty?"

Phrasing! Yes! Dammit! Thoughts rush through your head and you stop yourself mid-move to take a drink.

"Ah, sorry." You say, not really sure what exactly you're apologizing for.

"You have nothing to apologize for, if anything I should apologize for teasing you." He admits, a sly smile pulling at his lips. "But you seem to have relaxed a little."

You sigh a little, since you can't argue, "Just... ah, if you could assure me... promise, maybe?"

"Nothing that happens between us will negatively effect your job." He states easily.

"Or positively." You prompt.

That one eyebrow goes up again as he takes a sip of coffee. "Naïve, but admiral. Very well, neither positive nor negative impacts at work due to whatever may happen between us, I promise."

You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding, and your shoulders relax. Vivi arrives with your lunches and gets you a refill of green tea. Conversation tapers off a little as you eat, but the food and the tea were helping you relax the rest of the way. Granted, most of your relaxation came from knowing you weren't going to lose your job if this was the last date you shared with him.

Point three was kind of big, and you weren't sure if it was safe to even admit to it. He seemed sure he could smooth over any of your concerns, but Warlord was a bit larger than anything else. You couldn't imagine he'd walk away from that life for you, and you were certain you couldn't live within that life without dying to the stress. Assuming you survived long enough to die to something as gentle as stress.

The conversation afterward was casual and easy. Crocodile seemed more awake after some coffee, and while he still looked sleepy and relaxed, there was more energy in his words.

"I would like to continue doing this," the words slip from him before you can muster up the courage to thank him for his time and leave. His fingers brush against yours, and you couldn't move your hand away. Warm, large fingers slip over yours with more confidence and he's practically holding your hand when he speaks again. "I can promise you discretion, Miss (Y/N). I simply don't wish to let every joy you've brought me the last couple of months crumble to dust so easily."

That guilty feeling throbs within you again. It's obvious that someone in his situation would find it hard to connect with anyone the way you two had the last two months. The man you knew from the last two months was kind, attentive, intelligent, and even tempered. He was a good person, even if things had caused him to live in a way that was, admittedly, kind of terrifying to you.

Warlords were at least backed by the Government. They had been assigned specifically to create a barrier around the growing territories of the Emperors, allowing the government to press the four emperors from both sides. The well defended holy zone in the middle of the Metro, and the sprawling rural and suburban areas beyond the Warlords' territory. The Emperors, stuck between the two, had to follow certain rules if they wanted to continue to receive supplies.

It was an uneasy balance of power between the three groups.

"No one would know." You say softly.

"No one."

"I just... I don't want to see my picture in the paper without warning." Your excuse is a little weak, but no less true.

"No picture would make it to print." He promises, and there's a dark and nearly terrifying weight to that promise.

You chew the bottom of your lip lightly, trying to decide. He tightens his grip on your hand just a little, lifting it up and kissing one of your fingers gently. Your face flushes, and your mind is already trying to decide what his kisses must feel like.

"Once more, just decide that for now. You can think on things between now and the next occasion. I can promise you won't regret doing this once more."

Once more. Once more couldn't hurt. Once more, maybe even twice more. Enough to assuage your own guilt, maybe even get over your own fears. Once more. Just enough time to learn what that forbidden kiss tastes like. Once more. Enough time to know what this warm hand feels like, brushing across skin more needy than a few fingers.

"Once more." You agree, your face flushing to your ears, you pull your hand back and his expression falters just ever so slightly. "P-perhaps twice." You admit softly, and see a soft sly smile curl at the edges of his lips.

[boogleboot]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Literally nobody asked for this, but hey that's the joy of tumblr - talk about what you wanna talk about, and fic writing is important to me! So I've taken it upon myself to do these questions that have been swimming around and if you're reading this, that's an open invitation to do the same lol.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

19 on my current Ao3 account. There's an old account kicking around somewhere with a handful more, but they're sort of orphaned.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

622,253k words, so the statistics page tells me. Again, current acc only.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Starless Sea is my main baby, (the book by Erin Morgenstern). I also write Harry Potter fic, have threatened to (and may yet) write Twilight fic, and will happily write fic for anything if I feel strongly enough about the story! And, of course, back in the day, really, really bad One Direction fic lol.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Fateheart: A Starless Seaquel by far and away the top

2. Firebug Book I: Chiân Maeroris and the Secret Library of Fire

3. The Asset of Loneliness

4. Firebug Book II: Chiân Maeroris and the Monster of Slytherin

5. Nightmares apparently! Did not realise that ahaha

This was different to sorting by hit count, which is interesting! Hits wise number 5 would be Flowers <3 my beloved.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Absolutely! Not like, strictly - there are plenty I have left unanswered, but if they ask a question or leave a thoughtful comment I'm more often than not gonna respond. I've made genuine friends that way, and it's a lovely way to engage with the fan community.

Particularly as I primarily at the moment write fic for a very small fandom where basically everyone knows each other - we have a discord and I will often personally invite a commenter to join the discord if they are new, but even past that these stories mean so much to me and I have historically just been so DESPERATE to talk about them that actually sometimes a really excited comment signals someone who is gonna be a great friend to get excited with about it.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ooph that's a good quebbin. Probably the second Firebug book? Monster of Slytherin. I mean, that series is designed to get darker and darker, so it leaves quite a few things intentionally unresolved, and the main characters in significantly worse predicaments to where they started.

God I gotta finish that series.

Also one person got really rather upset with me about the ending of Fateheart, ranting for a GOOD long while about how painful the ending was, but I think the general consensus there is that, yes, even though it comes at a cost, the ending is overwhelmingly a satisfying conclusion?? I think??? I think it's a good ending lol.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Fateheart hahahaha. Hmm I mean, this is hard to quantify, right?

I have a saying about fic, which is 'the deeper the break the deeper the catharsis' which only works when both are done well, but I think you could argue that the greatest catharsis - and therefore the fic where the ending is happiest compared to the narrative lows, would be A Heart That Won't Break. But only someone who has literally lost the plot would name that a happy fic.

Probably The Ugly-Sweater-Verse, by measure of how warm and cosy the end makes you feel, but it's too much of a one-shot really to have had time to develop enough narrative to even really have an 'ending', structurally speaking. I'm way overthinking this.

How 'bout Flowers, coz they have really good sex. There.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nah, not really. One or two people really like picking apart the plot holes in my Harry Potter fic, but I think picking apart Harry Potter is something of an international passtime. Also one comment I remember from years ago said something like "this is riddled with inconsistencies but your writing is awesome so I don't care" which is hilarious. Shoutout that commenter. I swear to god I'm gonna deal with the veritaserum problem in the next book if it ever gets written.

Nobody's said anything close to mean on any Starless Sea fics, but we all pretty much know each other and a nicer group of people you could not hope for <3

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Mm, more than I used to!

There is a standing joke amongst our little fandom that my 'smut' is outstandingly not smutty - I think I write erotica, rather than smut. Which, like. Hard to judge. But anything sexually explicit in my writing is usually so whimsical and figurative that it hardly constitutes smut even when it is like overtly gay sex lmao.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Hmm, I haven't, but I would absolutely one day. I had an idea a while ago called the Seinfeld Glory Meld or something which was an episodic fic series in which a set of characters from a show or a movie or anything would suddenly find themselves in a specific setting following a certain storyline and each time it would just slowly morph into an episode of Seinfeld, except that all the characters would keep returning and they would be sentiently aware that they were trapped inside the show Seinfeld and it was hilarious and I think i had a fever at the time of coming up with this and I will never write it but I remember meticulously outlining it to my brother over like 83 messages lmao.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

YES. It was weirdly upsetting, but also just very, very strange? Like exactly a chapter and a half of Fateheart got reposted by somebody - and like, it wasn't even a particularly coherent chapter and a half? Like, it's not like it was a portion that made sense on its own. I was half inclined to think it was a bot somehow, except that they did all the tagging and even wrote a description about it being like "A short exploration of life after the end of the book. Enjoy!"

It felt really shitty and they disabled comments, but I reported it to Ao3 and like 3 months later they did in fact get back to me saying yeah, that was obviously stolen, and removed it. god bless the Ao3 team.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Aw not as yet, but a very sweet friend of mine on our discord has been working on translating bits of Fateheart into Italian! That is a HUGE undertaking and I don't evny them lol, but I am so, so flattered that they even wanted to try, and it will be SO cool to see any parts they finish!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! Though I am threatening to... Starless Sea book 4 look out

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Mm the Interceptor from Pirates of the Caribbean.

Just kidding it is Zachary and Dorian from The Starless Sea.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Ouufhgjhg I am kinda feeling this way about all my major fics right now - I have a rule of not posting something unless it is completed, so these aren't up even though they both exist at about 2/3rds - Fever Pitch and Lotus Flowers.

I do, however, know that I care enough about the characters from The Starless Sea to actually finish these though.

Unlike the Firebug series. Which I really hope to return to one day, because the whole 7-part book series will be KILLER, but let's be real who knows if it's ever gonna happen. A 7 part fic series of full length books is nutso ambitious.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Mmm, I'm very good at character development, and I have a natural prose style that is evocative and descriptively rich. I am fortunate enough to have been mentally steeped in very good writing ever since I was a wee babbie so texturally that is easily reciprocated.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Ach. I am literally so bad at being concise. I cannot do it. Look at the word count for any of my major fics. The ones I consider short stories are novel length. The ones I consider full length works are 3 books' worth of words.

Tried to write an outline for an AU recently and the document hit like 20 pages. Good job me. I was writing a full scene with dialogue by the middle and just never finished the outline lol.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I do this occasionally, but only to the effect of adding one or two words in a native tongue, and never without also providing translation. Not in a clunky way, either - not a fan of anything that breaks the prosodic mode, like a parenthetical translation or a footnote or something - but equally it doesn't have to be a diegetic translation. I think there's usually a comfortable middle ground.

For instance I most often use Arabic terms of endearment between Zachary and Dorian, and the types of scenes where it comes most naturally also lend themselves to repeating it and answering it in a way which makes it clear if not what word exactly is being said, at least what that word means here.

Other than that I default to like, '"yo my Cantonese is shit" he said in Mandarin'. Don't assume a reader reading in English is familiar with anything else unless you have contextual reason to do so.

But also, obfuscating the meaning intentionally because the characters also don't speak that language can be a fun gimmick.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

One Direction. lmao. Well, that's the first fandom I ever posted fic on the internet for. If we're counting me scribbling stories in my special notebooks under the covers at age 10 then probably Garth Nix's Old Kingdom series. Lirael forever.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Fateheart: A Starless Seaquel just in terms of like, how much that story has changed my life. The community it has helped build, the friends it has brought into my life, and the way it absolutely launched me headlong into the development of a world and a timeline in this story that I am now fully committed to seeing through in a way which will take me several years of creative work.

Possibly The Man Named Sky is up there, as is Death in the Valley (I have found my groove with the short novella-style standalone stories), and I am really proud of the Firebug books, though the best is yet to come there. But I think I'm really, REALLY proud of A Heart That Won't Break. I think it is quietly, secretly one of my best pieces of writing maybe ever.

This was fun to do. Nobody tagged me, but I'm gonna tag @thatwasntlikeridingabikeuasshole, fellow Starless Sea fic-writer extraordinaire and one of my faves.

ANSWER THESE FIC QUEBBINS <3