#i feel like i didn't describe enough in this but that's okay

[sheepispink]

A TICKING TIME BOMB

pairings: simon ghost riley/sergeant!reader

tags: platonic/romantic (up to u), angst, hurt/comfort, dissociation, scars (his and yours), injuries, temporary blindness, cuddling, fluff

Summary: Assigned on your first proper mission with the task force, things go wrong leaving you a.. little bit injured. Well, maybe a bit. It's bad enough the task force have to take turns looking after you like you're the team's hamster or something. It makes you uncomfortable somewhat, and you’re exhausted already, so when it gets around to Ghost’s turn, you break.

WC: 6.8k

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As always, the simplest of missions always ended up going haywire, though that seemed to follow you wherever you went. This time, you were tasked with a simple job: get in under Ghost and Soap’s cover, plant the bomb and get out again. Straightforward, plenty of preparation beforehand and no room for mistakes— after all, the team consisted of only the most specialised operatives. Well, you liked to describe it that way, but the rest of the team were far more experienced than you. It’s not like you were one to typically put yourself down or the like, but it was your first time working without your usual team. Usually, you had them right beside you whenever you helped the taskforce, always backup and nothing more. That was until you were spending your Friday night with Gaz in his task force common room, chilling out before Price suddenly walks in and addresses Kyle about the next mission. You took the moment to let your mind wander a bit, already feeling the tiredness seeping in. An absent-minded yawn led you to unintentionally make yourself known, Price’s eyes suddenly narrowing at you.

“S-sorry.. Didn't mean to interrupt..” You say sheepishly, sitting up straight from your slouched position against the arm rest. Surprisingly, Price just shakes his head and rubs his beard curiously. “Didn’t you take the same year-long course Soap did?” He asks, and you slowly nod, remembering the hell you went through, but it was damn worth it for the skills you earned.

“Perfect, Gaz, bring them to the meeting tomorrow.”

Okay, so maybe there was a lot more to it than that, but you really had been half awake and, before you knew it, you were in that meeting with room layouts being thrown at you like bricks. You were slightly terrified to say the least; though, you were a sergeant now, so you had already expected that your usual work would change more than you had thought.

Now here you were, clearing the next corridor with ease as adrenaline pumped through your veins. Most are outside trying to take out the others, but there were always going to be a few strays that passed under the radar. Ducking into the next hall, you finally find where you were supposed to set down the bomb. If everything had gone right, Price and Gaz would be in the hallways not too far ahead of you and Soap and Ghost a bit behind. That meant all hallways had successfully been cleared from strays, allowing you to easily crouch down and begin to set up the explosives by the pillar. You’ve done this a million times, both in training and missions, and yet your heart is racing all the same. Something just feels wrong, even if the Captain had just radioed in and confirmed success in clearing the path ahead. You stick the last wire in, watching the timer begin to slowly tick.

“This is Bravo 7-2 speaking, the explosives are secured at the pillar and timer has begun.” Forcing the tremble out of your voice is near impossible especially when your stomach churns with uncertainty; that’s not the point though, you need to get out–right now. The clack of your boots against the tiling is loud and heavy, picking up with each second that passes. “I repeat, this is Bravo 7-2, the explosives have been set. Get out of range now.”

Before you can turn the corridor, your heart stops in your chest, and you feel yourself slamming to a stop. Footsteps drawing closer. More than one, maybe even three sets. With gritted teeth, you steady your gun and peek around the hall.

Thirty seconds

Another falls down, crumpling to the floor whilst his friend curses in Russian, now running towards you. Where the hell had he come from? His hands drop his gun, the empty barrel evident in the lighter noise it makes as it clatters to the floor, before landing them on your shoulders.

Twenty seconds.

You shoot at him quickly, throwing his slumped body off of you with a heavy thump. There's no time to catch your breath— you need to be out of here.

Ten seconds.

Your feet are moving and yet it seems like you’re not getting anywhere.

Five seconds.

“Bravo 7-2? This is Bravo 0-6, everyone is out.”

The soldiers had only taken up ten seconds of your time which would be nothing to anyone else in life—unfortunately, those seconds mattered the most in this line of work. Your thumb can barely even touch the cold metal of the radio before the bright light goes off behind you, debris showering over you as the building echoes the loud noise between its walls. The ringing in your ears is practically deafening, not to mention the flames that lick at your uniform as you’re thrown forward into the wall. The ceiling above makes a sickening crunch before promptly falling down and giving you mere seconds to roll out the way. It’s still for a minute as you sit there slumped against the rickety foundations that once held the building, every thought of yours at a standstill in your head.

“This is Bravo 6-2 to Bravo 7-2, what is your status?” The crackle of the walkie-talkie could easily be mistaken for the relentless ringing in your ears, only serving to make you groan and slump your head a little more. “I repeat, this is Bravo 6-2 to Bravo 7-2. Sergeant..? Are you alright?”

Gaz’s voice is still jingling through your head long before his concerns pass through your ears; the explosion had rewired your brain and changed the connections of your nerves, jumbling everything inside you into a giant heap that could be comparable to the disorganised look of Frankenstein’s creation.

“Gaz.. I’m alright, I think.” You mumble out, slowly pushing the rubble off of you, well you think it’s rubble— who knows. There's smoke all throughout the air, toxic fumes reaping through the hallways you roamed moments before. One arm reaches up to cover your mouth and face, coughing harshly into your sooted uniform. “I’m comin’, give me a sec..” Why did your chest feel so tight? Something was definitely wrong, but then again everything has seemed to go wrong in the last thirty seconds. You could sit here and complain about the burns on your leg, the clench of your lungs or the sting that forces your eyes closed. But that wouldn't be quite useful, would it?

You manage to stumble your way into fresh air, allowing you to finally deeply inhale the cold air that seems to shiver every nerve you thought you lost. It’s not long before Soap has rushed up beside you, giving you a small pat on your back as he lifts your arm over his shoulder. “C’mon, there’s no way you’re out cold by a little boom, eh?” You force a dry chuckle out as his words, even more so at his scouse accent, allowing him to aid you into the back of the exfil truck where you suppose the others are sitting— your visor is completely covered in dust right now, you can barely make out Soap’s stupid haircut as he sits you down.

“What the hell happened back there?” The rough voice fills your ears, clearer than Ghost’s and holds far more authority as well. That's only how you can tell them apart right now since squinting isn't helping much. You suppose Gaz is on his left, and maybe Ghost is beside you? Soap is patting you down for injuries whilst you cower under Price’s harsh tone. “Some slipped through, tried to stop me when I left.” You fumble to explain yourself, coughing harshly from the fumes you had accidentally inhaled back there. “Didn’t you clear all the hallways first? You shouldn't have acted without being sure.”

“I’m not badly hurt, I swear.” Those feelings from earlier fill your head, the doubt whilst you were wiring the explosives— you shouldn’t have ignored that gut feeling, but how would you have known?

With a soft sigh, you look up to meet his gaze properly. “I didn't mean to rush; you were all in position. I just didn't want to cause an unnecessary delay, sorry..”

He lets out a low scoff and Soap snorts beside you, still holding your arm over his shoulders and the truck starts to rumble and move over the unsteady ground. “Hey— w-what's so funny?” Now you’re confused, wondering if you’re about to get the death sentence or the like. “You could at least look at yer captain when yer apologising, you idiot.”

Now you’re very confused, turning your head to face your captain again or well face what you assume to be him considering your visor was still blurry. You were sure Price was right there, you could just make out his signature hat atop his head but then again this visor was really blurry. Now that the adrenaline has finally settled down, you lift your sleeve to rub the dirt on your visor away. What you hadn't realised is that you didn't have one, well anymore; it must’ve fallen off during the explosion. You don't think much and just rub at your eyes instead, trying to rid the blurriness.

Until it doesn't go.

You’ve opened your eyes wide, rubbed at every crevice in them and blinked multiple times to no avail. The three of them watched your flailing about, curious as to why you were so intent on rubbing your eyes like a fly was buzzing in them.

“I am looking at my captain—” You continue to argue, sure that some dirt must’ve gotten into your eye, but they know something’s wrong the minute you point straight ahead at Gaz, convinced it’s him as you ramble on about his hat. You’re silenced quickly by Ghost who firmly, but not harshly, grabs your chin to allow him and Soap to stare at the hazy look in your eyes. “What can you see Sergeant?”

He says, rough voice rumbling out right beside your ear which you most certainly would’ve jumped at if not for his touch that reminded you of his presence.

“Well it’s a bit blurry but-” A curse escaped from Price and you assume he’s the one who stands in front of you now, holding his arm up though you can't really make out anything but the blur of the colours of his uniform. “How many fingers am I holdin’ up, kid?”

The truck goes silent when you guess five, only his fist remaining in the air.

Your foot taps the floor anxiously as you sit in the infirmary, waiting for a medic to attend to you. Soap had escorted you here, trying to cheer you up with empty hopes, but he had left you whilst he attended the debriefing. In truth, you were even more terrified than before. You’d been shot at, had bones broken multiple times, but now you were visually impaired for who knows how long— if it was even temporary that is. Soon enough you’re speaking to the medic, failing to hide the shake in your breath as they examine your eyes one by one before eventually concluding that it’ll take two weeks to fully recover from. Somehow you had forgotten about the bullet that sliced into your leg which they were now preparing to stitch, having been too disoriented earlier to even notice Soap wrapping up the blood around your shin. The pain had been excruciating everywhere when you first stumbled out, especially those burns you hadn't yet showed them.

This sucks, not only had you made a fool of yourself earlier by absolutely not looking at Price when apologising, but you’re also about a nerve away from crying on this infirmary bed. You never realised how terrifying it’d be to live totally unaware of your surroundings, considering you managed to always be alert for everything, so this is practically hell for you. You can only hear the recruits on the bed beside you, chattering non-stop, and it’s only more overwhelming when you can’t even see directly where they are. Not to mention you can't even fend for yourself anymore— hell you’d describe yourself as useless and you are. The pain still ripples up your legs, burns from the explosion, and your head aches from the override of thoughts running through it. It just hurts so much.

A tear begins to well in your eyes before you suddenly hear the door open, familiar footsteps approaching. “7-2.” It calls out gruffly, the blurred figure crouching before your bed to look up at your dazed face as you sit there pitifully. There’s no one else that voice can belong to, so you just pitifully reply with your small voice.

“Ghost.” It’s hard not to miss the long sigh he lets out, likely looking over your current pathetic display.

Of course, you had heard the news already—since the holidays were coming around, most soldiers would be off base including any medics that usually would’ve looked after you whilst you were out of action. Somehow, a unanimous decision had been chosen that the task force members would take shifts looking after you for the duration of your recovery. Price would take the earliest days, Soap for two days, same with Gaz and then a week and a bit with Ghost, considering he never celebrated the holidays anyway. Ghost already had a feeling you weren't up to that mission, even if you often excelled with everything else— new people weren't exactly your forte. Especially working under Price like that— he could be quite the intimidating man when he wanted to be. So to say the least, you were feeling terrible about this new arrangement, even if you were friends with Soap and Gaz quite closely— you couldn't just make them look after you.

“Don’t make me drag you now. You need to rest, in your room. Johnny will bring you food later.” You soon manage to find a steady pace, hand holding his sleeve tightly, but it’s not as worrisome considering it’s only the pair of you walking through the corridors. You had guessed so by the lack of footsteps and the fact it was supposedly very late. It’s weird how you two always manage to be brought together in these early hours, only for him to disappear again when the light comes. Like a Ghost you suppose. “What's that stupid smirk on your face for?” He scoffs, and you’re positive he barely gave you a glance as he spoke. Instead of answering, you shrug, deciding not to tell him about the sudden nostalgia you had just felt.

“D’ya think the Captain is actually mad at me?” You say, switching the topic entirely to the topic you’ve been mulling over for a while now. It nags at the back of your head, like an annoying fly buzzing around your ears. Thankfully not a hornet.

“No.”

You stare blankly at him, trying not to snicker at his blunt answer as you attempt to press him for more. “Just no?” When you receive a silent nod, a low sigh escapes you and your free hand absentmindedly starts to fiddle with the ends of your uniform as you navigate the halls with his help. “I knew I shouldn't have joined that mission; it’s not the same as working with my team as I originally thought.” You ramble, spilling your thoughts into the silence that he left between you too. He lets out a grunt, urging you on and so you continue. “I really did do as best as I could though. I still don't quite understand how those two soldiers slipped through my radar.”

“Are you sure you weren’t blind before then?”

At his insult, your eyes widen, and you go through a series of annoyed expressions before grumbling some insult beneath your breath.

He’s left you at your bedroom soon enough, making sure you’re settled in bed before he switches the light off and leaves you alone for the night. Despite the exhaustion wracking through your body, you can't quite manage to fall asleep straight away, still tossing and turning with worries. The main one seemed to be the fact they’d be looking after you for the remainder of your state– you were half considering calling your parents in London to come and pick you up. But… you suppose that would be a burden on them, especially since this is so far, and they were never quite supportive of the whole army thing. You really didn't want to deal with yet another lecture and an ‘I told you so’. It’s not like you want to laze around for the entirety of your recovery period, but there's not much you can do whilst temporarily blind, and you really don’t want the others hanging around your every move. Either way it seemed like you were stuck in this situation for now.

Thankfully, your bags had already been packed considering that the mission had been done right before holidays began so you had preparations ahead. You wake up lazily the next morning, a throb in your head as you hear heavy footsteps enter. For a moment, you panic and try to clear the blur in your eyes before your exhausted mind catches up with the current situation, and you sigh, turning your head in hopes of hearing the footsteps’ owner’s voice.

“We’re leaving in ten, kid.” Price’s voice rings out as the sound of rummaging in drawers rings out. “Second draw down.” You mumble, and he gives you a mumbled thanks before handing you your army shirt and trousers. “Leave the door open when you’re finished, alright?” You give him a nod in response, the heavy thumps of his boots disappearing as the door creaks shut.

Being looked after by Price initially served to be pretty uncomfortable on your part, always feeling that you had to be acting right since he was your captain and all. You still felt guilty of what happened in the mission, and you couldn’t quite tell if he was annoyed at you or not, unable to see his body language which would’ve given it all away. Too stubborn to actually ask him for help like anyone would do, you decided to persevere and try to figure it out on your own. That meant whenever he’d leave you alone in favour of going grocery shopping or the like, you’d walk laps around this new room in an attempt to learn the layout so you could do things by yourself. He only found out when he heard a short cry of pain in the early morning, coming to check on you in bed only to find you had somehow fallen into the bathtub in search of the sink.

This led you to be passed over to Soap with new instructions to be supervised at all times. It wasn't like you’d make it much easier for him though, considering you could persuade him pretty quickly to let you off, but before you know it Soap has dropped you off at Gaz’s door. You weren't particularly good at keeping him happy and soon enough he has dropped you off at Ghost’s flat. Oops.

“I heard you’ve been causing trouble with the others?” You can almost hear a gruff amusement in his tone, his hand on the small of your back as he helps you inside. You hear the soft thump of your small duffel bag on the floor along with the shuffle of him taking off his shoes. “I didn’t cause trouble, they just want to coddle me too much.” You can almost feel the raised eyebrow he gives you at that, and he gives you a rough pat on the shoulder as if to confirm it.

“So they just gave me a list for nothing, huh?”

Before you can respond, he’s listing off all the instructions the others had come up with, a sheepish look on your face as he calls you out.

“Don’t let her walk around unsupervised.”

“I was stretching my legs!”

“Hide any electrical appliances in the kitchen.”

“I wanted some water; I didn't know he had something on the stove!”

“You almost fell out a window?”

“I wanted fresh air!”

He lets out a sigh, gently pushing you to sit on a stool as he helps you undo your shoes despite the protests you’re currently giving. “Seems like you’re quite the handful even with no eyesight. Lucky for you, I’ll be watching you at all times.” That makes you blink in surprise, despite the fact you can't even see. “That's not possible, you’d have to go out once a while.” You push yourself up to a stand when he’s done, fuzzy socks still on from when you dressed yourself this morning. “Trust me, you won't get a chance.”

Over the next few days, Ghost doesn't leave you alone for a second. When he’s cooking, he’s in the kitchen barely a few steps away and the rare chance he goes out to grab something from the shops, he locks you in the car with the radio low. You even tried to pretend to sleep once only for him to pat your cheek until you swatted at his hand, dragging you to the car to wait for him.

You’re sitting in the car, bored out of your mind when you hear the door handle get pulled at. For a second you flinch, unsure why he hasn't opened the door yet if it was really him who was opening it. What if it was still locked and someone was trying to get into the car? What if— “Dammit, got too many things in my hands.” He mumbles as he finally opens the door, reaching behind the seats to place the shopping bags there. You look over to him, slightly tired from being woken up early but curious as to what he has in his hand, after all you can only make out a faint shape of what seems to be a bottle.. Maybe?

“Here, got you something.” It’s far more cream than your typical coffee, but it tastes good anyway as he gently holds the cup for you, helping you hold it with your hands before letting go. “Thanks Lt..” You sip it down, enjoying the sweetness that comes with it, though somehow makes you feel even sleeper than what it’s supposed to do, keep you awake. He chuckled when your eyes only grow droopier, resting the weight of his palm on your head for a moment before letting go. “Alright, let’s get you back to sleep then.” He hums, kicking the car into drive before he’s making his way through the streets once again. It’s not like you do much but sleep anymore, especially since your eyes are a little sensitive at the moment due to some eye drops the doctors gave you. He only really wakes you for meals or something he has to really tell you.

This also means you and Ghost don't actually talk all that much. He’s always up to something, and you’re passed out on your air mattress to even notice, snoring quietly with your lips parted. To an outsider, it’d seem like you’re actively avoiding him from the silence in your relationship, however, for Ghost it’s quite the opposite.

Every time you drift off, he’s grateful, knowing you’ve missed out on at least a month's worth of sleep because of all the back to back missions. The higher the rank you grew, the less sleep you seemed to get, especially as people started to demand more out of you— that’s just how the military worked. Hell, the whole team was lacking sleep, though he knew something about you the others didn't. The reason you were kicking up so much trouble when you stayed with them is because you were restless— you couldn't quite feel comfortable around them. No, it wasn't because you didn't feel safe around them, he’s seen you collapse against Gaz’s shoulder in the heli far too many times to count. It wasn't because of Price’s status as a Captain either, no, it was something else entirely. Ghost was elusive compared to the others, seemingly not paying attention to anyone that wasn't of the mission’s interest, and thus made him a silent creature than the worry warts the others turned into. This is exactly how you always passed out in his presence; finally letting down your constant worries about being perceived by others, you figured he wouldn't glance at you for a second. And so, he’d watch from behind his mask as your shoulders quietly slumped, giving into the rest you had craved for weeks. You had received quite the scolding after the mission, and he had seen the way your eyebrows furrowed each time you were around the others, afraid of being some kind of burden.

He walks over to you as you doze off early, only eight pm, and you have drool spilling past your lips and staining your cheek. It’s a cute sight, really, especially since he’s completely aware that you think he doesn't know about all these little parts of you. He figured you’ll be okay now, the tissue in his hand wiping your mouth carefully before he grips the blankets a little too tightly, yet slowly pulls them up to your neck. He’d barely even needed to keep you entertained like the others, not when your body has subconsciously accepted his presence, constantly calm and quiet as you recover. A little part of him wishes you don't recover so soon, quite enjoying your confusion when you try to figure out where his voice is coming from in your sleep induced haze. Eventually he leaves you be, the little alarm clock flashing the late time on his desk, his past office now your make do bedroom.

Your head’s been swirling for a while now, thoughts muddling together from your half awake state and the small nightmare that had jolted you awake. It’s hard to stay calm when all you see when you wake is another blur, the room around you pitch black and full of terror. You haven't felt this since you were at Soap's place, but thankfully he had stayed up late binging some series he missed, the faint chuckles able to snap you out of the fear creeping into your throat. Though now, it was quiet, all the sleep you had caught up on making it nearly impossible for you to force yourself back to sleep if you tried. You were too awake, too aware, and alert as you carried on frantically looking around, each slam of wind against the windows making your head snap. British weather never helped you, always raining instead of the pure white you hoped to see when you opened the curtains, and always too hot yet too cold, a medium you could never seem to find.

With your heart thumping in your ears, you push yourself up to a stand, hands grasping his desk and accidentally splaying his papers across the floor. Your breath chokes, realising what you had just done, the loud rustle of the fall echoing in your ears as a pit of shame surrounds the current fear—the ball growing larger by the second. Panicked, you support yourself on any item you can, each soft knock of your hands against an object tugging at your heart muscle even more. Eventually you find the bathroom light, grasping at the air until you find the dangling string, and you pull, the blinding spotlights making you wince. The bathroom was slightly clearer, and you quickly closed the door behind you, not bothering to turn the lock in case for some weird reason you had to run out again. You could never trust your brain anyway.

Stepping forward, your hands grasp around the porcelain of the sink, your body shaking as you slump slightly, breathing heavier. It’s so silent, the fan the only sound echoing off of the surrounding tiles—the lack of noise driving you to the brink of despair. The way your hands grabbed the tap was nothing short of brutal, lifting the metal upwards as water gushed out, drowning the contaminating paranoia out of your brain through the little crevices. Your breathing slows a little, but it feels like a weight off your chest from how hard your heart had thumped against your ribcage, and you find your head wanting to tilt back, breathing in the cold air. However, this causes you to make a brutal mistake.

Your eyes open again, the mirror right in front of you. It’s been weeks since you’ve looked directly into one, and you can't help but be stilled into shock from what you see. As expected, your hair is a mess, falling over your shoulders in a way that’s never happened before, always in a tight bun for training. Not to mention, your eyebrows are furrowed together so tightly, instinctively forcing you to relax them, and your lips are cracked all over, chapped and broken. It’s not like you can see all of that, no, only faint blurs of what’s before you, a hovering blend of colours that make up your face, smoothing out into a strange shape—you don't even remember your chin looking like that.

The longer you stare, the more you lose track of yourself, blinking in confusion as you suddenly become aware of all your little nicks of your skin, not by sight but feel. Your hands trace over the bumps on your face, up the side of your cheek and just up to your eye. A fresh burn scar, not the worst definitely— but clearly noticeable. You hadn't known you had been burnt on your face too, perhaps refusing to acknowledge that. Instead, your other hand moves to graze your eyebrow, feeling the hairs out of place, and the rough texture of dry skin.

This isn't you— but it is, and yet it isn't altogether.

You know it’s you because when you widen your eyes you can faintly see the whites of your eyes become more visible. You know it’s you because when you lick your lips you feel the stab of the cracks, see the paled colour in the mirror. Likewise, you know it’s you because you feel connected to it yet so far away at the same time.

“Why’re you up?”

You don't hear his gruff voice behind you, even as his unmasked face approaches in the mirror behind your own. He’s tired, that’s obvious by his voice but no matter how hard you squinted you could barely make out a feature of his. His eyes roam over your form in confusion, wondering what had caused you to be up at this time, and he reaches around you to finally close the tap. It was quiet in the flat, and he’s sure he would’ve woken if there was a storm or any other loud noise. Besides, he doubts you’d brave the darkness without seeking him out if the nightmare was that bad.

He follows where your eyes are stuck on, the mirror and the scars that now litter your face. He knew that feeling, the detachment that came with a new scar, especially on something you see so often. After all, he wore a mask for a reason, to hide identity from others, and from himself. For him, it was less to do with the gruesome shapes of the marks, more struggling to place himself with that. He didn't feel as if he was that face, even if he remembers where everything came from like the back of his hand. Sometimes, he still remembers when his face was smoother, rounder, and his eyes were a little wider.

Your hands have a death grip on that porcelain, and he can tell now that you’re experiencing that similar emptiness he feels too. Gently, he places his large hand over your eyes, the warmth seeping your skin as his voice grows a little quieter yet no less thick. “That’s enough. You don't need to suffer any longer like this.” He tugs you away from the sink, gently turning you around to face him instead, calloused fingertips scratching your eyelids as he lowers his hand. “Look at me.” You do, seeing nothing but a blur of blonde on his head, a fuzz of his carved jaw and crooked nose. He holds your hand, fingers rubbing little circles into your palm. “Who is it?”

“I.. It’s you.” He nods at you, rolls up his sleeve, and brings it up to your line of vision, marks littering the skin in angry reds and pale pinks. “Who is it?”

“T-those marks—”

“Who is it?” He insists and you comply quickly.

“You..”

Gently he pulls up his shirt, even in the fuzziness you can make out the shape of the scarred tissue, spanning across the side of his waist. “Whose is it?”

“Y-yours..” You’re starting to understand now, as your breaths grow slower and your mind begins to focus on deciphering the meaning behind his words. He wants to show you something that reflects onto you yet comforts you because he shares that pain too. He pulls your hand to touch the scarred tissue, letting your fingers dance over the ridges and bumps and the uneasy feeling that comes with it. “I hide behind a mask,” He murmurs, pulling his shirt gently down again as your fingers retract. “Yet I’m still Simon. No matter how hard I try.”

He lets the silence hang in the air, allowing the reassurance behind his words to envelop you. His hands rest on your shoulders now, before slipping behind you into the cabinet above the sink, pulling out the first aid kit and medical plasters. You can see the white in his hands, how he places the soft material into yours. It’s an option, a chance, to hide away the bad and deal with it later. No, it’s not a trick question nor will he judge your answer. You had heard the bandage he had peeled back just to show you the scar tissue. He had said himself about his mask. If you want, he’ll help you cover them up, so you can feel comfortable in yourself again. But the choice is up to you.

You nod quietly, and he takes the plaster, holding your chin with one hand whilst he presses it along the burn scar that reaches up the curve of your cheek. “There, all gone.” It’s nothing, and yet you let out a sigh of relief, to be rid of that finally was a burden off your chest. You can feel his gaze roaming you, or maybe that’s just his hands lingering down your arms, across your sides and patting down your legs. “Did you hurt yourself when you got up?” You shake your head quickly, and he tucks a hand behind your back, leading you out the bathroom before he clicks the light off.

You’re just about to murmur a thanks, or something quiet when sound breaches the air down the entire street. It’s threatening and so damn loud, shaking your brain chemistry back to the bombs you hear on the daily.. It makes your entire body prickle, the shattering sizzle something you only hear in warfare, but to cross over into real life is like a fever dream you never wanted to become true. Your legs scramble on the cold tiles, trying to get out and see what’s happening as quickly as possible. The sound in the air grows heavier as Ghost follows, likely trying to see the commotion too. You’ll need your gear, your boots, and your belt and your helmet and vest and weapons and his too, he’ll need his mask if you’re going to go help.

“Hey-”

You’re still scrambling, unable to make it to the door until a strong arm forces you back against a warm chest. “It’s fireworks. Almost the new year.”You pause, instantly going silent, and he sighs, just giving your hair a small ruffle before he smooths down the mess of it. “You don't even know what day it is—Do you?” You shake your head again, and he’s half tempted to chuckle at how tired he is and how wild this night is going. He walks you into his room, burying himself under the covers after you tentatively sit on the bed, unsure if he expects you to follow even after the countless times you’ve slept this close before. That is until greedy hands plant on your waist, pulling you down onto the bed as you let out a small gasp. Both arms wrap around your middle, pressing your chest to his as he slowly rubs up and down. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake if you have a nightmare.”

It’s a firm promise that he’ll help you, even as one of his large legs tuck between yours, keeping you impossibly close. Your breathing is still quiet, voice still silent, and he peeks an eye open at you before scanning your struck face up and down. “What’s wrong?” He’s caught a little off guard when you tuck your face into his neck; you’re just pleasantly surprised when no smell of burning copper goes to your brain this time. A sniffle is heard as your arms wrap around him too, and it just feels so, so strange.

For once, you are not grasping at cold fabric, desperately begging for an ounce of soft comfort. No, his neck is bare, and his skin is warm against you, an actual living breathing person existing beside you. It’s not rotting flesh, nor a lifeless form you’ve dreamt about clutching as you cried, mourning a lost teammate.

Still, what baffles you more is that never in your life have you felt him near you, never like this, never so bare like your minds are telepathically linked. Usually it’s his arm around your shoulders, simple yet not too touchy. Or perhaps a soft pat on the shoulder, a guiding palm on the lower back or even you taking advantage of the few times he swaps his balaclava for a surgical mask, opting to ruffle his hair while it’s present.

“Why’re you up Ghost? I wasn't the one who woke you.” . His chest sinks as you continue to sniffle, knowing he can't even be mad at you for seeing past him, and he sighs, the stubble of an unshaved jaw momentarily brushing against your forehead. “The fireworks.. set me off.” You stay quiet, sink into him a little longer as you both lay there, hearts beating against one another. There’s no point lying to you anymore, especially when he sees everything about himself in the way you act. Dealt entirely different hands in life and yet somehow led to the same conclusion, until you were here now, seeking comfort in one another. Slowly, your hand rubs up and down his back, making the stiff flesh slowly release the tension built between each cell. His body straights out a little, a shaky breath exhaling warmth onto the pillows.

“Thanks..love.” He murmurs quietly, and your nose nudges his neck, a silent response to his words in which he assumes is likely a ‘you’re welcome’ . His own nose buries into a few tufts of your hair, inhaling the clean scent of your shampoo. The both of you are here, still alive, still well. There are no explosions outside, no demands being asked of you and certainly no expectations to live up to. And you’d be damned if anyone even tried to ask you for anything right now, knowing well you weren't letting go of him until he did of you— which you both knew would never be anytime soon.

The week’s schedule shifts after that night, the interactions between you seem to have been planned according to a mutual understanding. Now you follow him everywhere, willingly too. Whether it was a grocery run in the early morning, the store was just empty enough to let you walk around with him without bumping into any customers. Or perhaps he’d drag you down to the park, let you sit on the benches and hear the soft sounds of nature. Your eyesight was becoming clearer much to your own relief, and you almost wanted to cry when you could read the time on the clock again. Still, he kept you close, letting you sit on the stool outside the shower or sit on the bed when he changed outfits. He felt comfortable, not entirely because you were still visually impaired but also because you made him feel comfortable, the shared vulnerability easing away at his hard walls. But the lack of sight really did help, and you knew because you felt his cheek brush against your ear when he shifted at movie nights. The way his bare nose would nudge your forehead to keep you awake whilst you indulged in a random crossword was nothing short of comfort either. It was most obvious when the sun began to set though, after he cooked you a hot dinner, and you’re allowed to let sleep come quickly with your head lolled lazily on his shoulder or if you’re extra lucky, even on his legs.

Like a loyal soldier, you followed his orders with glee. Like a good Lieutenant, he looked after you well, making sure that by the end of the night you were tucked safely beneath his blankets and shielded from the horrors of your own mind.

hope u enjoyed :)

[sophieinwonderland]

Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you thought playground bully-level namecalling warranted a response.

It's pretty obviously a baseless ad hominem tossed into a serious discussion to distract from the fact that all your earlier points were thoroughly debunked.

There's not really a counterargument that can be made to such a baseless accusation either. Denial just leads to an endless back and forth of "no I'm not," "yes you are," "no I'm not." I could even point out how every accusation from Republicans tends to be a confession. But then it just devolves into an endless game of "no I'm not, you are." Which I think is kind of the point. Getting me to stoop your level of arguing. Making the conversation more about feelings than facts. Because that's where Republicans thrive.

But on second thought... maybe I shouldn't be so quick to dismiss this. If nothing else, it is a prime example of Republican brainwashing. Because one thing that is pretty clear is how Republicans are still pushing the baseless myth that queer people are pedophiles and using this myth to brainwash and radicalize their gullible voters.

Despite all of their accusations, I've never seen a study showing that trans people or other queer people are more likely to predators than their political opponents.

But Republicans are depending on you not questioning the narrative.

They just repeat something long enough, and the useful idiots will believe it.

I believe Hitler called this tactic "The Big Lie."

Looking at your blog, it looks like you have all the hallmarks of a future domestic terrorist successfully brainwashed and radicalized to be okay with murdering fellow Americans.

"Pedophiles should be killed."

"Liberals are pedophiles."

"Liberals should be killed."

Is the final unspoken part of this.

It is legitimately worrying how deeply brainwashed you are to accept fascism.

Anyway, while you are fearmongering about liberals being dangerous to children, here's a video of the new Fuhrer talking about how he wants to date his daughter.

Here's a quote of him describing her as "voluptuous."

Some fun family photos:

Trump's favorite thing he has in common with Ivanka is "sex."

Trump used to barge in on teenage girls changing:

And finally, here are some remarks on Trump about his friend, Jeffrey Epstein:

How to trigger Republicans, sysmeds and other bigots in 1 easy steps

Step 1: Post facts with sources

That's literally it.

If you threaten them or call them names, they will feel vindicated in their persecution complexes. But if you prove them wrong with facts, they will block you instantly because being proven wrong bruises their ego and they can't cope with it.

If you're angry at bigots and want to hurt them, I promise that nothing will inflict more emotional damage than calmly explaining why they're wrong with sources to back it up.

[witherby]

Blood and Teeth

Jason Todd x Reader

You just wanted to get home before dark.

⚠️ Content warning: stalking, attempted mugging, gunshots, non-consensual feeding ⚠️

God, you'd been doing so well.

The job you work is daylight shift, you're always polite and cordial, you mind your own business, and, most importantly, you don't take anybody else's bullshit.

You go to work, you do your tasks, then you go home. You're always in before the sun sets, and if you aren't, you're cozying into the closest hotel you can find and parking your ass there for the night. Then it's rinse and repeat. Little to no deviation from the routine. It's fine.

You don't look for trouble, is the point.

But it sure did find you.

"No! Nonono — WAIT, STOP! WAIT!"

You sprint as fast as your legs will take you, but it's no use. The bus pulls away from the stop and keeps on going, ten minutes earlier than it should've, and leaves you behind. You groan and resist the urge to throw your bag to the ground.

"God dammit." The next one wouldn't be around for at least an hour and a half, and it would be long dark by then. You didn't have the cash on hand for a cab all the way to downtown Gotham, either. You pull your phone out and check how far the closest hotel is, but that's also downtown.

As far as options go, you can either call your brother and ask him to come get you, or walk as fast as your legs will take you and hope you make it back home unscathed.

You start walking.

"It's fine," you tell yourself, white-knuckling the strap of your messenger bag. "You've made it home after dark before and been completely fine. Nothing's going to happen to you. Everything is great. You could use the exercise, actually. A little leg work does a body good, and you spend most of your time sitting at a desk. Yeah. Yeah! It's like walking on the treadmill..."

The small pep talk helps. Taking large strides, you estimate that you'll make it back home in 45 minutes. That's fine! It's all fine!

Except it isn't fine, because twenty minutes in, you become acutely aware of someone following you about half a block back. You test that by crossing streets at odd places and walking around the perimeter of a liquor store, and he remains on the edge of your periphery the whole time. It's absolutely not fine.

You pull your phone out and dial 9-1-1, picking up the pace. Your heart feels like it's leapt into your throat and you hope against hope he changes his mind and fucks off somewhere else.

"Gotham City Police. Where is the address of the emergency?"

"Uh...I'm currently off the intersection of Cherry and Roman," you explain, looking at the street sign, and give the dispatcher your name. "I'm walking South along Cherry. There's a man following me, about...uh, sixty feet back? I think I'm gonna get jumped, and I missed my bus, and I just wanna get home before dark —"

"Okay, alright," the dispatcher says, voice gentle. "It'll be okay. I've alerted units in your area to come by. The closest one is five minutes out. Stay on the line with me."

"Okay," you mutter. "Thank you. I'm just really scared."

"It'll be okay," the dispatcher repeats. "What does the man look like? Are you able to describe him safely?"

"He's kind of short," you explain. "He's got jeans on and a black coat. I think he's blonde, but I don't wanna look behind me and piss him off..."

"That's fine. You're doing great. They're four minutes out. Just keep walking and talking to me."

"Okay. I'm crossing the street now, still on Cherry... There's a book store that's closed on my right. It's called...um..." You squint. You're not quite close enough to see the sign yet, and before you get the chance to better read the lettering, a hand clasps around your arm and yanks you backwards. You scream, cellphone dropping to the sidewalk, and the man is trying to drag you into an alleyway.

"No!" You cry, beating a fist against his chest. "Stop!! GET OFF ME!"

"Shut the fuck up!" The man snarls. You yank a taser out of your tote bag and press it against his side, shocking him. He shouts in pain and spasms, letting go. You stumble back, scoop up your phone, and take off in a sprint. "Get back here!!"

"Hello!?" You yell into the receiver. "He's chasing me! I'm running but he's chasing me! I need help right now, please!!"

"A unit is two minutes out," the dispatcher replies, sounding tense. "Do you have any means of defending yourself? A weapon? Pepper spray?"

"My taser didn't do shit! I don't have anything else!"

"Keep running. They're hurrying as fast as they can, I promise."

"I'm running! I'm going!!"

You pump your legs as fast as they can possibly carry you, then push them to go even faster than that. You're gasping noisily for breath and there's a stitch developing in your side. Your heart feels like it's going to burst from your chest. But you can't stop, because you can hear him running after you, and if you stop you'll most certainly die.

"Please!" You wheeze into the phone. "I can't — please!"

The sound of sirens reaches your ears and you feel almost weep with relief. You start shouting that you're here, you're right here, hurry the fuck up and get here, but you're grabbed again right as the patrol car rounds the corner.

The stalker hooks an arm around your throat and yanks you to his chest. He presses a gun to your temple and you freeze, ice crawling up and down your spine.

"Drop the weapon!" A cop shouts. Two of them hop out of the vehicle and aim their own guns at the two of you. "Put the gun down and step away from them right now!"

"This doesn't have to go down with anybody getting hurt tonight!" The second officer yells. "Surrender peacefully!"

"Fuck your peace!!" The man that has you screams. The hand holding the gun is shaking as badly as you are, and you hope and pray his finger isn't twitching against that trigger. "Back up or I blow their brains all over the street!"

"Don't!" You choke out. "Don't do that! Please don't do that, I'm just trying to go home please don't —"

"SHUT UP!" He snaps. "EVERYBODY SHUT UP OR I SWEAR I'M GONNA —"

Two gunshots sound. You flinch hard, hands flying up to your head to feel for any bullet wounds, but there's nothing there. The responding officers are sheet-white, looking at you like they've seen a ghost.

No, not at you. Past you.

You don't wanna look. You've lived this long not having to see a dead body and don't intend on breaking that streak. Maybe they hadn't intended to shoot to kill? Is that why they seem to scared? But — no, that doesn't make sense. Because if they shot him, the body is on the ground. Their eyes should be on the ground. Not up as high as they currently are.

They're looking at something else.

"Aw, what's the matter?" Chimes a voice behind you, and you turn just as pale as them.

You don't dare turn around. You don't move. You don't breathe. The exact reason why you're so diligent about getting home before sundown every night is standing about two feet behind you, and you suddenly feel like your odds of survival were better with the stalker.

"Why don't you two go on back to the precinct? I've got it from here."

The police continue to stare behind you for several, long moments. They share a look between each other. They look at you. They step towards their car.

You feel your heart drop to your stomach. Cold sweat forms on the back of your neck and your eyes start to water.

"Don't go," you stammer, shaking your head. "Don't. Don't leave me here. Please don't go —"

"Shhhh..." What feels like a block of ice lands heavily on your shoulder and squeezes tight. So painfully tight. You can't breathe. "Don't listen to 'im. Go on, boys. Get."

The first officer climbs back into the car. The second one hesitates just a moment longer.

"I don't like repeating myself. Go, before I run out of fucking patience."

The second cop disappears back into the car, shutting off the lights, and drives away.

You feel like you're going to throw up. There's nothing protecting you anymore. No one around. Just your ragged breathing to fill the silence and the Red Hood practically pressed against your back.

"You know what's coming next."

The voice is low and distorted by a modulator in the helmet. Every word makes your heart race faster and your vision gets spotty at the edges.

"Hey, hey, hey...easy," he teases, the icey hand on your shoulder moving to cup your jaw. Pressure starts to be applied, urging you to tip your head back and expose your throat to the open air. You sob.

"M'just try-trying t'go ho-home."

"Yeah?" The Red Hood coos. You swear it sounds like he's grinning under that fucking helmet.

"I just wanna go home," you repeat, nearly whispering.

"Heard ya the first time. Quiet, now."

He tips your head back until it won't go any further. Through tears, you blink up at a blood-red helmet, reflecting your terror back at you. The hand at your jaw moves up and covers your eyes, eliminating even the small solace of the street lamps and leaving you in total darkness.

"You don't move. You don't run. You don't pull away from me. You keep these pretty eyes shut nice and tight. Do all that and maybe. Maybe. I let you go home. Say yes if you understand."

Your bottom lip wobbles, teeth practically chattering.

"Y-yes," you whisper.

"Good."

You hear the click of latches coming undone and hear him take the helmet off. You feel his other arm come around your waist, pulling your bodies flush together. You feel his breath against your throat.

Getting bitten by a vampire is a terrible experience. It's nothing like the movies and books tell you at all; no little pinch followed by numbness, no erotic tingling coming from the point of contact, no gentle suction like getting a hickey.

It feels like somebody is stabbing you with a fucking fork and then subsequently trying to suck the skin off your bones. It hurts like nothing else you've ever experienced.

You scream, because he didn't say you weren't allowed to do that, and you cling to the arm around your waist as tight as you possibly can, like it's the only thing grounding you to what's happening because it is. It is.

This is why most of Gotham's businesses are closed by sundown, why most people have shut themselves into their homes and settled in for the evening by now, why you were trying to do the exact same thing before you missed that stupid bus. Because ever since the Red Hood started prowling the streets at night, nobody has wanted to be caught outside with him.

He emerged four years ago with a mission and two rules:

1. If he catches you out at night doing some shit you shouldn't, pray you've gotten your affairs in order before he kills you.

2. If he saves you from someone who was out at night doing some shit they shouldn't, he will take payment from you whether you give it willingly or not.

He does not accept money. He does not accept bribes. He does not leave a debt unpaid.

Gotham's resident vampire takes your blood.

[blondeaxolotl-twstocs]

What do Floyd and Jade think of Murray and Sirena as family/parents?

The tweels thoughts about their moms.. Get ready for a yap fest

Floyd - With Murray, those two bump heads with eachother so much to where it's easier to count how many times they DIDN'T. Y'know Floyd's weird mood swings? Yeah, Murray has them AS WELL, THATS WHERE HE GOT THEM. Meaning when one of them is in a bad mood it also ends up affecting the others mood, making it chaotic as all hell on the daily. A regular person would assume Floyd and Murray hated eachother but surprisingly they're actually pretty close. Murray also taught Floyd how to cook, so she's mostly the reason why Floyd loves to cook, especially if it's cooking for someone he cares about alot. With Sirena, Floyd listened and respected her more often than he did with Murray (she is probably one of the few ONLY people who are able to get Floyd to listen to them without trouble). Sirena knew how to handle Floyd's mood swings as well, quickly managing to bring them back up just as quickly as how they went down. Floyd also trusts her with a lot more personal things, especially because she's better at comforting than Murray is.

Now for them together, Floyd doesn't really mind since he quickly viewed Sirena as a mom almost the moment she joined the picture. He just doesn't like it when they smooch he finds that gross lmaoooo. Though he finds it neat whenever he gets in trouble with Murray he immediately runs to Sirena (usually Sirena takes his side as well lmao).

Jade - With Murray, Jade is way more respectful to her, the only times he's been a menace with her is when Floyd influenced him to be lol. Jade does seem to love Murray and show it more often than Floyd (like being asked to help to clean up something or just general nice gestures) that it kinda makes Murray question how Jade ended up being her kid since he behaves way more differently than both her and his brother. In other words Jade just seems to love his mom since he's aware raising two kids alone for a while isn't that hard so he respects her alot.

Now with Sirena.. oh BOY, in word simple words, the best way to describe how Jade feels about Sirena is that she's basically his favorite person, he's a literal mama's boy. Jade is close with his brother and Murray, but he's basically attached to Sirena the most out of anyone. Since the moment Sirena joined their family, Jade looked up to her a lot because he thought she was cool. A personal headcanon of mine is because of Sirena, Jade developed the love for dark and gothic clothing as well just like her, hell even getting attached to anything that's purple as well. TLDR, Sirena was Jade's favourite person and it really shows yeah, made Murray start to think if Jade was actually related to her because he started to pick up behaviours from her too lmao.

And about his moms being together, just like Floyd, he didn't mind. Though will say as a kid, Jade was the type of kid that'd squeeze between his parents to stop them from kissing because "MY MOMMA". Rip Murray, her own kids stole her wife lmaooo

Okay I think that's enough, bonus family doodle for all this yapping

[the-morningstar-family]

Tell Alastor.

Otherwise Vox is going is going to tell him in a sad pathetic attempt to break you up.

He won't be happy about it but if you manage to mention that the sharks liked you more than Vox he's going to find the whole situation funny.

Lucifer fidgets, his partner is actually reading in the trauma book again, clearly displeased by the contents. And disgusted. Great so Al's already pissy.

Lucifer: “Heyyy you”

Alastor, amused: “You always call me so loving things.”

Lucifer, nervous: “Heh. Yeah”

Okay, he isn't too pissy. At least that. Still, the deer notices his king's gitty motions.

Alastor: “Is something wrong?”

Exhausted, Lucifer let's himself fall onto the sofa next to him.

Lucifer: “I may have done something without thinking it through”

Alastor: “What? You? My, I would've never expected it! However will I survive this shock? Darling, we should alert the papers-!”

Lucifer: “Okay smart ass, shut up”

The deer grins in a way that he can only describe as devilish, ironically. He bites his lower lip.

Alastor, softer: “It is something I won't like, isn't it?”

Lucifer: “Yeah…”

Alastor: “Well, spit it out.”

Lucifer: “So I read some more about older psychiatry practices…”

Alastor, annoyed: “Yes”

Lucifer: “And there was uh…”

He tries to word it rather ambiguous. If he's onto something, he might be navigating a mental minefield.

Lucifer: “There was something with electricity. And so I thought that maybe the creepy TV guy knows something. I mean you were friends…”

Alastor, exasperated: “Tell me you didn't ask Vox”

Lucifer: “... I'm really sorry about it”

The demon tenses up, then massages his temples, and finally releases the pent up air. He looks more exhausted than angry. His jaw is stiff and the ears fold back.

Alastor: “That was a rather foolish decision, for multiple reasons.”

Lucifer: “Yeah I noticed”

Exhausted, the deer let's his head fall into the king's shoulder. He did not expect that. Still, he takes the opportunity to massage the soft ears.

Lucifer: “Did you know he had sharks?”

Alastor, huffing amused: “Yes”

Lucifer: “I think they like me more than him”

It makes Alastor giggle. He knows Vox' jealous face like the back of his hand. Adding his excited partner to the mental image is just the cherry on top.

Alastor: “Vox is not going to take kindly to that”

Lucifer, shrugging: “I just like sharks”

Alastor sobers up. Taking deep breaths to keep his current calm.

Alastor: “Don't go to him for such things. He is not really an attentive person, and he is not above using such things against us.”

Lucifer: “I'm sorry. I really didn't think it through. I don't know why you're not mad at me-”

Suddenly Alastor gasps. It is soft and quiet, accompanied by drawing away slightly.

Lucifer: “What is it? Are you okay?!”

The deer snatches one of the angels hands and quickly pulls him forward to lay it on his bump. It's the king's turn to gaps.

Lucifer, excited: “Oh-! That was so soft. I could hardly feel it! Oh they must be still so tiny”

Alastor let's his head fall back on his shoulder. A smile gracing his lips.

Alastor: “I am not mad because you tried to help. And I haven't been exactly… forthcoming with information”

The movement died out quickly, so the king's hands wander back to his partner's head. This time he goes through the hair.

Alastor: “...What did Vox say?”

Lucifer: “He said something like you zooming out when like, gently shocked by accident…”

The deer looks back to the book in thought.

Lucifer: “Are you reading the chapter?”

Alastor: “Yes…”

Lucifer, hesitant: “And what do you think?”

Alastor: “That… that you might have been right. But if it is bad enough, to be erased from concouisness… then it might be best to leave it like it is.”

Lucifer: “You don't want to know?”

Alastor: “Why would I need another thing added to the pile? I have enough, without the thousandth way my father fucked me up.”

Lucifer, softly: “You're not fucked up, Hun”

A soft little huff escapes him. He worms his arms around his small angel.

Alastor: “My point still stands. I don't see how it benefits me”

Lucifer: “Because it's still hurting you.”

Alastor: “What?”

Lucifer: “I know you. You were definitely affected by that. At least while zoned out. And… I think it still hurts somewhere. Even if you don't notice…”

Alastor doesn't answer, instead clinging to him and burying his face even further.

[book-daenerys]

1.)

what does matter is that they created a doctrine that says they were "different" from other men and that justified their incest. This is the Targaryens directly promoting the idea that because they are genetically superior to other people – "their eyes, their hair, their very being" – they deserve to practice incest because they are exceptional.

They literally negotiated with the Faith to say "okay, normal people can't practice incest, but that rule doesn't apply to us because we are special and blonde and fly dragons".

by being together and embracing incestuous marriage, they will be embracing the big daddy of the old prejudices that [...] some people are just better than others.

The doctrine didn't hinge on an outright assertion that the Targaryens were "genetically superior", but rather on the fact that they were outside the cultural norms of Westeros due to their Valyrian origins. As the quote you provided said, "their roots were not in Andalos, but in Valyria of old, where different laws and traditions held sway".

Also, here's the thing. GRRM himself admitted that the Targaryens are supposed to be "different" from the rest of Westeros - not inherently superior, but rather physically and culturally different, so much so that he described them as "a race apart" from the rest of Westeros:

Speaking of Valyria… right from the start I wanted the Targaryens, and by extension the Valryians [sic] from whom they were descended, to be a race apart, with distinctive features that set them apart from the rest of Westeros, and helped explain their obsession with the purity of their blood. To do this, I made a conventional 'high fantasy' choice, and gave them silver-gold hair, purple and violet eyes, fine chiseled aristocratic features. That worked well enough, at least in the books (on the show, less so). (source)

GRRM intended the Targaryens to be perceived as outsiders with distinctive physical features and cultural practices. So it makes sense that their justification for incest relied on their roots in a different tradition (Valyria) from the Andals. It's worth remembering that the Doctrine of Exceptionalism was specifically created as an excuse to justify Jaehaerys and Alysanne's marriage; it did not forbid Targaryens from marrying outside their family, it simply allowed them to marry within it if they chose to do so on account of their Valyrian heritage and culture.

Now, of course, certain individual Targaryens (like Aerys II or Viserys) use the doctrine to bolster personal feelings of superiority (in a similar way that nobles from other Westerosi houses do), but that's distinct from the actual premise of the doctrine, which was to legitimize their practices as "different," not necessarily "better."

2.)

"On the point of other families feeling they are exceptional… I agree, it's just I think the Targaryens take it to an extreme above all others."

I just don't see how that's the case. Let's see how the Starks/First Men maintained the narrative that they were "above all others".

First of all, they nearly wiped out the Children of the Forest:

Chronicles found in the archives of the Night’s Watch at the Nightfort (before it was abandoned) speak of the war for Sea Dragon Point, wherein the Starks brought down the Warg King and his inhuman allies, the children of the forest. (TWOIAF)

Drove out the giants:

Ancient ballads, amongst the oldest to be found in the archives of the Citadel of Oldtown, tell of how one King of Winter drove the giants from the North, whilst another felled the skinchanger Gaven Greywolf and his kin in “the savage War of the Wolves”. (TWOIAF)

Extinguished rival houses:

Song and story tell us that the Starks of Winterfell have ruled large portions of the lands beyond the Neck for eight thousand years, styling themselves the Kings of Winter (the more ancient usage) and (in more recent centuries) the Kings in the North. Their rule was not an uncontested one. Many were the wars in which the Starks expanded their rule or were forced to win back lands that rebels had carved away. (TWOIAF)

~

Amongst the houses reduced from royals to vassals we can count the Flints of Breakstone Hill, the Slates of Blackpool, the Umbers of Last Hearth, the Lockes of Oldcastle, the Glovers of Deepwood Motte, the Fishers of the Stony Shore, the Ryders of the Rills…and mayhaps even the Blackwoods of Raventree, whose own family traditions insist they once ruled most of the wolfswood before being driven from their lands by the Kings of Winter. (TWOIAF)

~

Even this did not give Winterfell dominion over all the North. Many other petty kings remained, ruling over realms great and small, and it would require thousands of years and many more wars before the last of them was conquered. Yet one by one, the Starks subdued them all, and during these struggles, many proud houses and ancient lines were extinguished forever. (TWOIAF)

Committed wartime rape:

When the Warg King’s last redoubt fell, his sons were put to the sword, along with his beasts and greenseers, whilst his daughters were taken as prizes by their conquerors.

And are still largely isolationist (i.e., rarely married outside the North in their history) and xenophobic (as shown by their prejudice against the Free Folk) and take pride in/believe themselves superior because of their First Men blood.

Meanwhile, Aegon the Conqueror adopted a heraldic banner for House Targaryen, embraced the feudal system of Westeros, converted to the Faith of the Seven, deferred to the existing laws and customs of the conquered kingdoms, regularly consulted maesters, respected the Citadel's influence and allowed enemies to keep their lands and titles as long as they bent the knee. Most importantly, though, his conquest was driven by his goal to unite the realm in preparation for the War for the Dawn:

George R. R. Martin: In some sense he [Aegon the Conqueror] saw what was coming 300 years later, and wanted to unify the Seven Kingdoms to be better prepared for the threat that he eventually saw coming from the North. (source)

~

Ryan Condal: I think the Game of Thrones nerds were very interested and intrigued and compelled by the secret that Viserys tells Rhaenyra, connecting Aegon [the first king of the family and the original Westeros conqueror] with the prophecies that we know about the Long Night and the Others and the Night King coming out of the North—and how maybe the Targaryen dynasty was aware of it long before we think they were. [...] A lot of them said I committed A Song of Ice and Fire heresy, but I did tell them: “That came from George.” I reassured everybody. (source)

~

George R. R. Martin: I don’t want to give too much away, because some of this is going to be in the later books, but this is 200 years before the events of Game of Thrones. There was no sell-by date on that prophecy. That’s the issue. The Targaryens that know about it are all thinking, Okay, this is going to happen in my lifetime, I have to be prepared! Or, It’s going to happen in my son’s lifetime. Nobody said it’s going to happen 200 years from now. If the Dance of the Dragons had not happened, what would’ve happened to the next generation? What would’ve happened in the generation after that? Yeah, there’s a lot to be unwound there. (source)

So no, I don't think the Targaryens are uniquely extreme in their belief in their exceptionalism, which is defined by a conquest mainly motivated by a noble purpose and distinguished by cultural assimilation. Meanwhile, the Starks spent thousands of years waging wars (for no other reason beyond personal ambition), conquering lands and exterminating entire houses and native groups (Children of the Forest and giants) - all of those actions reflect their current sense of blood superiority. I don't see how Targaryen incest (which never caused that level of widespread violence) is morally worse than that.

3.)

I think it is reasonable to infer that Jaime and Cersei's views of how the Targaryens saw incest is fundamentally correct, because it very much correlates with what Viserys told Daenerys were the reasons for Targaryen incest:

I don't disagree that the practice of incest can be viewed by individual Targaryens like Viserys and Aerys II as proof of their superiority. I argued that not all Targaryens share the same narcissistic view because, as GRRM says in the quote above, not all members of the same family share the same worldview. Additionally, he also said that the practice of incest was primarily motivated by the need to control the dragons, not by blood purity.

My issue with Cersei and Jaime's statements wasn't about their opinions on how Targaryens saw incest. It was with Cersei saying that the Targaryens "wed brother to sister for three hundred years to keep the bloodline pure" when they actually married into multiple noble houses (as a result, Dany has Valyrian, First Men, Andal and Rhoynar blood). As for Jaime, he says that the Targaryens were "above their laws" and that "septons, lords, and smallfolk had turned a blind eye to the Targaryens for hundreds of years" when the reality was much more complicated: they made concessions, followed Westerosi laws and customs and struggled against opposition from lords, septons and commoners throughout their history. They weren't any more (I'd argue they were less) authoritarian than the Starks throughout their history.

4.)

it doesn't really matter if the Targaryens occasionally married non-incestuously.

~

Yes, the Targaryens sometimes married outside the family,

~

"the later Targaryens did it for no real reason outside the justification of exceptionalism because the dragons were gone."

Saying that this only happened "occasionally" or "sometimes" is inaccurate. Half of the Dany's direct ancestors from Aegon I onwards married non-Targaryens:

Aegon I/Rhaenys

Aenys I/Alyssa - Targaryen/Velaryon

Jaehaerys I/Alysanne

Viserys I/Aemma - Targaryen/Arryn

Rhaenyra I/Daemon

Viserys II/Larra - Targaryen/Rogare

Aegon IV/Naerys

Daeron II/Myriah - Targaryen/Martell

Maekar I/Dyanna - Targaryen/Dayne

Aegon V/Betha - Targaryen/Blackwood

Jaehaerys II/Shaera

Aerys II/Rhaella

And that's not to mention the many Targaryen/non-Targaryen marriages featuring members that aren't direct ancestors of Dany.

Also, it's not true that the later Targaryens practiced incest "for no real reason outside the justification of exceptionalism":

"Why did they [Aerys II and Rhaella] wed if they did not love each other?" "Your grandsire [Jaehaerys II] commanded it. A woods witch had told him that the prince was promised would be born of their line." (ADWD, Daenerys IV)

Of course, it's awful that Rhaella was forced into a marriage with someone like Aerys II, but GRRM has also emphasized that his characters aren't acting irrationally when they weigh magic and prophecies in their decisions:

George R. R. Martin: This is a society where people believe in magic, they believe in sorcery and with good reason because it exists. (source)

Since Barristan brings up the prince that was promised, it's very likely that Jaehaerys II (along with other Targaryens like Rhaegar and Maester Aemon) was aware of the AA/PTWP prophecy and the need for the realm to unite against the Others (which was what drove Aegon I to conquer Westeros in the first place). This, along with the woods witch's prediction that the prophesied hero would come from Aerys II and Rhaella's line, is what led Jaehaerys II to marry his children... Not blood superiority.

5.)

The Targaryens "don't know" about DNA, so they "attribute" their powers to their blood.

After the OG Targaryens "attributed" their powers to their blood, and decided to start practicing incest.

The problem with the idea that Targaryen incest is materially justified by their powers in world (rather than being a tactic of legitimisation) is that it is undermined by several things: There are many people with prophetic powers in ASOIAF who do not come from incestuous lines or noble families, meaning the point is moot (see the Ghost of High Heart as an example). Correlation does not equal causation. The dragonseeds are examples of people who could ride dragons with no incestuous or Targaryen ancestry. At most, they might have Valyrian ancestry which, as you bring up in the quotes you've highlighted, was not always incestuous. Other families also seem to have innate magical abilities (see the Starks and warging) that is entirely unconnected to incest. In fact Bran, the strongest Warg the Starks have produced in ages, is a product of an explicitly "marry outside the clan to strengthen it" marriage.

I'm not sure why you seem to be skeptical about the Targaryens having magical abilities ("they "attribute" their powers to their blood") because GRRM has already confirmed that they do:

George R. R. Martin: The Targaryens have certain gifts and yes, taking the dragons and dragon riding and dragon breeding was one of them,” he says. “But the other gift was an occasional Targaryen had prophetic powers and could see glimpses of the future, which they didn’t always necessarily properly interpret because, you know, they were fragmentary and sometimes symbolic. (source)

Yeah, magical abilities aren't exclusive to Targaryens, I never suggested otherwise - acknowledging that Targaryens have magical gifts doesn't negate the existence of magical powers in other families or individuals.

So, since GRRM has confirmed that the Targaryens in particular have the ability to ride dragons and sometimes see the future, their belief that their magical abilities come from their bloodline is actually correct regardless of their lack of understanding of genetics (which GRRM himself doesn't have anyway). And this does make the practice of incest a reasonable and pragmatic move on their part, especially when several of them are aware that the Others are coming to end human life as we know it. If GRRM wanted us to take a firm stance against incest in the context of his fictional story, then he shouldn't have given the Targaryens/Valyrians and the Starks/First Men magical bloodlines.

I don't ship Jon and Daenerys, even though they are among two of my favorite characters. I love them both as characters, but I don't see them as a couple.

A big part of it is that they are aunt and nephew, and we haven't seen a single healthy incestuous relationship in the main series, which is kind of the point.

The first one is the marriage of Dany's parents Aerys and Rhaella. It was already a loveless marriage, as Barristan noted there was no fondness between them from the start, and it turned abusive towards the end as Jaime could attest.

The next one is Jaime and Cersei's relationship which is pretty toxic and has elements of abuse. It was a pretty one-sided, codependent relationship with Cersei's desires always coming first, and using sex to get Jaime to enact violence on her behalf. Jaime also noted how much of her her narcissism went into the relationship as she saw him as her mirror image, and lived through him. When Jaime says tells her "No" for the first time, it's noticeably when Cersei starts turning to verbal abuse. Once Jaime starts individuating from her, and disagreeing with her, she responds with verbal and physical abuse.

Cersei has another one with her cousin Lancel while Jaime was gone, and it was clearly shown to be unhealthy and abusive as along with Lancel being a teen and Cersei being a grown woman, she is Queen while he is a squire as well as her ward at court. She used sex as a way of manipulating the inexperienced Lancel, and he admitted to Jaime he was in love with her. She had all the power in the relationship and abused it as she often does with power in her arc.

Jon's exposure to it as at Craster's keep. Craster is clearly shown to be a detestable person and abuser who rules his domain through violence and intimidation. He sacrifices his sons to get rid of potential rivals, and marries his daughters. Gilly is clearly shown to be a victim as are the other women.

Viserys wanted one with Daenerys as revealed by Illyrio, and or rather he lusted for her. After giving her a steady diet of physical, verbal and emotional abuse, he decided to add sexual abuse when he tried to rape her. Euron raped his younger brothers with Aeron's partying years and his identity as Damphair stemming from Euron's abuse.

All the incestuous relationships in the main series are tied up with abuse. There are elements of power dynamics whether they by patriarchy and/or royalty where the ones often pushing for it are often the ones in power being king, queen, older brother or patriarch.

Daenerys and Jon can find happiness in relationships, and I'm guessing they will, but not with each other. They would be better off as a aunt-nephew, or given Jon being slightly older, a brother-sister kind of relationship (not the Targaryen kind).

[oh-meow-swirls]

it's kind of weird to me that they didn't bother releasing sushi and tempura internationally at all but at the same time i'm kinda glad they didn't cuz like. yo-kai watch was financially failing in the west by the time 3 released. i feel like if they had released sushi and tempura the franchise would've completely tanked before we got sukiyaki which would've sucked. honestly if anything i feel like it's more surprising that we got all three versions of 2 instead of them just releasing psychic specters but tbf i think yo-kai watch was doing well in the west when 2 released. 2 is just inexplicably what killed the franchise despite being a masterpiece-

[chocokeyboard]

FINNALY finished brothers in arms OMLLLL GRAHHHEHHHHHHGEHAHAHHHHH I WINN I WINNN

[quirkle2]

as a huge spyro year of the dragon fan i Hate the reignited trilogy they took all the charm and nostalgia out of it BUT ... spyro's walking/running animation ? they perfected that.

[orchideae]

1) Opens up drafts with my head empty, ready to be flooded, not knowing where I'll go. 2) 30 seconds later: Okay but I will go feral any day of my life over Perilous Trail, and the fierce dichotomy of Xiao and Yelan. While they're far from being 'the same', they both view themselves as soldiers in one way or another (it's a very difficult word to use for Yelan, so I'm using it very liberally and very loosely), they have both suffered losses on the 'battlefield' and carry the burden thereof in their own ways. And yet they stand so firmly in opposition throughout the entirety of that questline up until the very end of the 'the end of the line' conclusion of the quest. Yes, I know that she offers him her gratitude in its aftermath and it is genuine, but she still never agrees with him and the decision that he made moments earlier. It simply 'worked out' because of Zhongli's interference, he's the only reason it worked out. And it's because of that, that she doesn't give him a hell of a hard time (obviously she can't go down there, but imagine the inner frustration of severe extents; when you condemn someone who you can't even see anymore). In the same way that she would do to anyone who would sacrifice themselves for others, but in this case, I think it's 'beautiful' that it's to Xiao; the one who seems most adamant to do so (which honestly, fits into the contract that the Yakshas chose to sign with Morax; 'the ultimate sacrifice' to protect for Liyue; 'for Liyue', and Liyue has always centered itself around its people), the one who everyone reveres (and so does she, as she notes in her voiceline, 'if I ever have the honor to fight alongside') and respects for good reason, she stands against him, because in that moment, regardless of his status, he makes a call that she considers wrong. And he doesn't even... fight her on it very fiercely, and that's what actually hurts me the most, it's as if the following line hit the nail directly on the head?

"Besides, if you were really so determined to end it all, you wouldn't have given us the opportunity to share our opinions."

[someonesomewheredown]

Don't get philosophical at 12 am you WILL fall into the trap of feeling that, in the same way that all history has already come and gone, your own life is similarly predetermined in the history books of the future 🤣

[mad-hunts]

as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.

since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.

but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.

he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞

jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.

julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.

he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, ❝ you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞

Eigengrau.

A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.

The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.

"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"

The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?

He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.

… ohh, god…

He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.

A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.

Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.

"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."

He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.

Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.

"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."

The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.

“Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”

[avatarchic]

— FOREIGNER

How the Karasuno boys would react to meeting Shoyo's foreign cousin.

— starring. karasuno boys x foreign exchange student!reader (separately), student teacher!reader in ukai's

— tags. fluff, first meetings, pining

— warnings. use of 'pretty' and 'cute' to describe reader, but no pronouns are used, you slap ryuu in his LOL, mild suggestive comment in ryuu's if you squint

— requested? yes! thank you so much for your request this was fun to write :)

— notes. some of these are longer than others sorry ADHKWH my biases are showing a lil // this ended up being a first meeting + how they act when they start crushing on you, but it they're so cute so i didnt wanna change it lolol

daichi is whipped for you from the start

he doesn't show it (or he doesn't think he does) but he's attracted to you the second he lays eyes on you

he's extra sure to be polite to you, too embarrassed too show his brasher nature in case it scares you off

he loses his backbone whenever you're around

he needs to scold some of the first years for goofing off, but you're standing there? he's all sunshine and rainbows

when he finds out that you're a foreign exchange student, he's over the moon

he subtly finds out your classes from shoyo, who of course doesn't realize his intentions as he blurts out your schedule happily

he checks up on you often, making sure you're adjusting well to japan because "what kind of captain would he be if he let his underclassman's cousin have a hard time?"

the team is none the wiser, except for maybe koshi who sees through his shit immediately

he has a habit of patting your head as a greeting, even if he's just passing you in the hallways even if you complain about him messing up your hair

overall, he's super soft with you :)

sawamura daichi! was annoyed when he met you. shoyo hadn't shown up to practice and wasn't answering his phone, which left the captain ready to send the orange-haired freshman to an early grave. after kei made a smart remark that he saw shoyo lingering near the school entrance, he was on a mission to give the boy hell.

kei was right, of course. when daichi made his way to the entrance, he saw shoyo right away. he stomps over, lips parting to lecture the younger male about responsibilities when his eyes ghost over you. he stops short, shoyo's name barely dropping from his mouth as he pauses.

when you both turn to him, daichi feels his breath catch in his throat. it was clear that you weren't from around here. your odd sense of dress stuck out like a sore thumb—not to mention he had never seen you before. but if anything, he thought you were pretty.

"you're late for practice," daichi states lamely, barely managing to tear his gaze away from you to glower at shoyo. "i ought to put you on cleaning duty tonight."

the threat fell on deaf ears, shoyo's large grin unfaltering as he wraps an arm around your midsection in a tight hug. "captain! sorry, sorry," he apologizes, though the wide grin on his face told daichi he wasn't serious. "my cousin texted me that they were here, so i had to say hi!"

at his words, you finally snap out of your stupor, offering daichi a small smile. "i didn't realize he had practice. i wouldn't have called him out if i knew."

daichi presses his lips together, feeling his ears warm at your kind tone. "it's okay," he says softly. "i'll let him off for now. it's nice to meet you—i'm sawamura daichi."

when you introduce yourself, he finds himself repeating your name in his head.

"oi," he clears his throat, turning to shoyo with a deadpan expression. "c'mon. we're late enough already." daichi turns to bow his head at you politely, quickly turning around before you can see the warmth in his cheeks.

your sweet voice calls out a goodbye, and daichi decides then and there that he wants to get to know you better.

"hey, hey—why are you so red?"

"you're gonna shut up now if you want to go home early tonight."

koshi didn't realize you were shoyo's cousin until after he got to know you a little

he couldn't help it—when he saw you he just thought you were super cute lmao

he fumbles a bit in front of you

he really really tries to be a cool, calm, and collected person but sometimes he embarrasses himself by saying odd things or staring at you a little too long

when he does figure out you're related to his underclassman, he takes the opportunity to get to know you better

and when he finds out you're in his homeroom? even better

the type to arrange study session together with you every weekend just to spend time with you

he actually invites you to watch their practices and games before shoyo does LOL

the whole team knows about his feelings and he doesn't even care, constantly throwing an arm over you shoulder and hanging around you during downtimes

wants to impress you, so he gives it his all (and then some) whenever you're there

his sets get more accurate and he even blocks more hits than he would've before

he really wants you to think he's cool

but if you compliment him, he's exploding on the spot

suguwara koshi! had no idea you were shoyo's cousin when he met you. you looked nothing alike and your personalities were completely different. despite you being a complete stranger, the lost look on your face amused him.

you met koshi when shoyo accidentally stranded you at the train station. you were supposed to take the same train to his house, but he didn't notice you weren't right behind him when he stepped into the train car. the last you saw of the tangerine-haired boy was the back of his head as the doors closed on you.

you were standing there in a panic, though no one stopped to check if you were okay. shoyo had you hold his schoolbag while he dragged your suitcase along, and when you tried calling his cellphone you heard it buzz in the bag that hung on your shoulder. for the life of you, you couldn't remember which stop to get off or which streets to take to get to his house.

"are you lost?" a gentle voice asks you, pulling you from your anxious thoughts.

your eyes meet and koshi can't help but think you're cute as hell. you look doe-eyed in your panic, rounded eyes and parted lips. when you don't answer right away, koshi's cool demeanor switches and he stumbles into an embarrassed frenzy. "wait, can you even understand japanese?"

thankfully, you do, having learned it from shoyo at a younger age. you blink away the remnants of your panic with a few hasty nods. "yes, sorry. my cousin accidentally left me here, and i don't really know how to get to his house..."

koshi calms down at your insistence, chuckling to himself. "do you know the address?"

you wince, "no."

"alright," he says in a way that he hopes is soothing for you. "i can keep you company while you wait for him to return, then. it'd probably be nicer than just standing here by yourself."

when you agree, he hides his smile. he asks you several icebreakers, such as your name and your favourite colour. with every passing second, he only thinks you're even cuter than when he first saw you.

eventually, shoyo does come back, panting and heaving as he runs up the stairs to the station platform. his bright eyes widen when he sees you together with koshi. "oh, sugawara? you've met my cousin?"

koshi meets your eyes with a grin. "i guess we'll be seeing each other more often."

honestly asahi doesn't even acknowledge you when you first meet

he doesn't find out you're shoyo's cousin for weeks, so you're really just another classmate to him

you don't even talk to each other until like a month or so after you transferred

and even then, your conversations are short

he's polite to you when you work together, but he doesn't really try to become friends with you

don't get him wrong! he thinks you're nice and pretty, but he is too damn shy to initiate anything with you

you kinda think he hates you at first, but after you realize that he's just not an outgoing person you relax around him

when he does find out you're related to shoyo, you end up seeing each other more often out of class

you show up to more practices, even if you're just sitting on the benches doing homework

shoyo even drags you along whenever the team meets up outside of school to hang out

as a result, you and asahi eventually grow closer and he opens up more bit by bit

he doesn't actually start crushing on you until graduation nears

he realizes it when he hears you cheering his name at one of their bigger games

he thinks his name sounds prettier coming from you

he doesn't initiate any skinship with you, but he's always asking about your day and checking on you in his own ways

will absolutely combust if you even so much as brush pinkies as you're walking together

azumane asahi! first met you in class. like koshi, he doesn't know you're related to shoyo initially. when the teacher introduces you, making you write your name on the board, you don't have the same last name as shoyo. he doesn't really pay much attention to you, minding his own business as he takes out his notebook and pens.

several weeks pass and your homeroom teacher announces that you'll be partnering up for a group presentation. your first real conversation with him goes as expected—you exchange contact information and go your separate ways when the bell rings.

he thinks you're attractive, but he's too shy to actually act on those thoughts and he just pushes through the project, interacting with you as little as possible.

it's only when shoyo forgets his volleyball uniform at your house that asahi figures out you're related.

he sees you first, standing in the gym entrance while you wait to be invited in. you look hesitant as your eyes cast over the several members of the volleyball club, your gaze landing on asahi. when recognition flickers behind your eyes, he thinks you're there for him.

he opens his mouth to greet you, but before he can even utter a word, an orange blur runs past him. you're almost knocked on your ass as shoyo tackles you, excitedly calling out your name. "what're you doing here?" he asks you, tilting his head as he releases you from his death grip. "you never come to practice."

"you left your uniform at mine," you explain quietly, pulling the clothing out of your bag.

there's a moment of silence, before all hell breaks loose. the others scream and yell at shoyo, yuu and ryuunosuke shaking him by the shoulders as they demand why they weren't informed about his girlfriend.

even asahi's jaw drops at the thought of you, his classmate and group partner, dating shoyo, of all people.

"we aren't dating!" you exclaim, shaking your hands in front of you adamantly as disgust paints over your facial features. "we're cousins."

as the club eventually quiets down, you meet asahi's gaze over the commotion. when you offer him a bashful smile, he can't help but return it.

as expected, yuu is also whipped for you the second you meet

he swears on his life that he has never met someone as perfect as you—not even kiyoko (which says a lot)

at first, his attraction to you is entirely physical and he doesn't hide it

he compliments you every time he sees you he even compliments your outfits even if you're just wearing the karasuno uniform

he practically begs shoyo to bring you to practice just so he has an excuse to ogle at you and profess his 'undying love'

you'd probably make good friends with kiyoko, bonding over the second years' unabashed feelings and loud professions of love lol

though he's completely smitten with your looks, yuu doesn't learn a thing about you until like two months after your transfer

he realizes it when koshi asks if he knows anything about you and no, the fact that you're pretty doesn't count as something

during a late night run to the nearest convenience store, he runs into you

you're dressed casually, and he realizes it's actually the first time he's seen you outside of uniform

he thinks you're very cute in your bunny pajamas

he approaches you with koshi's words in mind, and asks if you want to hang out for a bit

your hang outs become a common thing, and eventually it's your weekend tradition to meet at the convenient store after sundown

after really getting to know you, he realizes that he likes more than just your appearance

shockingly, once he figures out his feelings for you, he tones down a lot

he would stop confessing his love for you every moment he could, but he gets casually affectionate with you

he'd always stand close enough for your shoulders to touch and would absentmindedly guide you places by taking your hand

he's never had a real crush on anyone before, so he's feeling it out with you

nishinoya yuu! has hearts in his eyes the moment he meets you. shoyo brought you to practice one day, excited to introduce his favourite cousin to his teammates. he had all but dragged you to the gym by the wrist, ignoring your insistent utterings that you can walk on your own.

"this is my cousin!" shoyo announces the second he bursts through the doors in true hinata shoyo fashion. you were the last ones to show up, so the entire team was there to witness you getting dragged in by shoyo. "they transferred here from overseas."

yuu feels the world stop once he glances over at you after receiving a particularly harsh spike from tobio, freezing into his squatted position. his world becomes a romcom movie—he swears someone must be blowing a fan in your direction with the way your hair sways as you walk into the gym. he might even be seeing the air sparkle in your presence.

he's absolutely starstruck with you, and he makes no effort to hide it as he bounds over to you. he takes your hands in his, looking at you with wide eyes as he takes you in. he can hear someone groaning, maybe daichi, as they mutter something along the lines of "he's at it again."

"i'm nishinoya yuu," he introduces himself. "you're really cute!"

your mouth opens, but no words come out as you simply stare at yuu in surprise. shoyo had given you a brief rundown of his group members, and you realize that this might be why he warned you about the libero in particular.

even when daichi smacks the back of his head, apologizing to you quietly, yuu remains in his lovestruck gaze.

you stay to watch their practice, at both shoyo and yuu's insistence, and yuu makes a point to be even more extravagant than usual. you can't help but laugh at his boisterous rolling receives and the way he calls out ridiculous move names.

oh ryuu. typical ryuu.

the first words he ever speaks to you end up with him getting slapped

like yuu, he thinks you've been blessed by the gods with your looks and he makes it clear to you when you meet

he asks you to go out with him, only to blatantly check you out right after, which earned him a smack to the face

eventually, he does apologize for his behaviour, though you don't accept it right away

when you tell him that you hate guys who treat others like eye candy, he's sure to tone it down for you

of course, a man can't change overnight

he still flirts with you, and with other women—he can't help it ;( him n yuu are menaces

however, when he's not being an absolute pest, he gets to know you

he learns about your interests and hobbies, and finds himself indulging you in them (who would've thought he'd end up enjoying the art of bracelet making?)

when you become close friends, you become his person

he goes to you whenever he wants to talk about something, and he lends an ear whenever you need to vent

he asks you about your home country often, wanting to know more about your life before you came to japan

he'd even go out of his way to do things for you that remind you of home whenever you start feeling homesick :)

it's not until well after graduation when he realizes that he might actually like you

tanaka ryuunosuke! was mid confession when you met. shoyo had brought you to one of their games, and just as ryuunosuke was getting on his knees to ask kiyoko to marry him, his eyes fall on you.

it's almost astounding how quickly the second year moved from the glasses-wearing beauty to you, appearing in front of you in an instant. before shoyo can even introduce you, he stares you down with a steeled expression, his eyes narrowing.

"you're the prettiest person i've ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on," he claims in his most serious tone. he takes your hands in his as he presses his lips to your knuckles. "please go out with me."

there's a collective sigh as the team turns away at his antics. you, on the other hand, feel your head pound in irritation. "excuse me?"

ryuunosuke doesn't hear the vexation in your tone, or chooses to ignore it, as his eyes trail over your features. even when you're staring at him in an angry disbelief, he thinks you're incredibly pretty. however, as his eyes drop lower and lower, his mind enters a less-than-appropriate headspace.

the feeling of your hand connecting with his cheek rips him out of his lewd daydreams. you didn't slap him hard, but the sound echoed over the loud chatter of the audience members anyway. "you pervert," you utter, gritting your teeth as you turn on your heel. you barely tell shoyo good luck as you all but stomp off to the bleachers.

ryuunosuke stares at your back, holding his reddening cheek in mild awe. yuu nudges his side. "don't tell me you're into that, man."

he at least has the grace to blush.

to be honest, you and tobio do not get along until much later

it's not because you're related to shoyo it is

he just genuinely has no idea how to talk to you lmao

you meet him on the first day of school with shoyo

the realization that he may be teammates with the very guy he had practically berated in middle school took priority over greeting you tbh

it's only after their initial fight when he realizes that you, a complete stranger, saw him yell at shoyo as harshly as he did (even if shoyo didn't have many nice things to say either)

he's kinda embarrassed abt it tbh

like?? you had to see him like that?? he's mortified

so when he joins the volleyball club and you're a manager, he avoids you like the plague

when he talks to you, he accidentally comes across as if he hates your guts (he doesn't, he just cannot properly converse with people to save his life)

your relationship is extremely terse for months, since you get pissed off at his behaviour and he doesn't know how to act normally around you

he doesn't warm up to you until one of their games later in the season, where the morale is low and the team is hanging their heads

you give them an uplifting speech, telling the team that they're stronger than they think

it's the first time tobio looks at you in a pleasant light, and he merely puts a hand on your shoulder to say thanks as he makes his way back to the court

slowburn as fuck tbh he might not even realize he likes you until you're about to graduate (cut him some slack he's only a lil slow)

kageyama tobio! barely acknowledges your existence when you meet. you had moved to japan before their first year at karasuno began, so you showed up with shoyo to the first day.

of course, tobio recognized shoyo immediately from their encounter in middle school. shoyo had dragged you to the gym to go with him to sign up for the volleyball club, insistent that you try to apply to be a manager or something. tobio was there, about to spike a volleyball.

the second shoyo and tobio lock eyes on each other, they're at it like cats and dogs, and you're left standing there in confusion. seeing shoyo as angry as he was is shocking to you and you wonder what the hell this other guy must've done to rile up your sunshine cousin so much.

tobio doesn't even look at you as he argues with shoyo, not meeting your eyes until after the fight has 'calmed' down. he stares at you quietly for a moment before averting his gaze, grumbling something under his breath as he leaves to retrieve the volleyball shoyo made him drop.

he doesn't say anything to you as you talk quietly with daichi about becoming a manager. he vaguely overhears shoyo introducing you as his cousin, but he's too annoyed to listen.

later on, when him and shoyo are finally accepted into the club, and you're brought on as a manager-in-training, tobio still ignores you.

you don't have your first conversation until a week later, when you corner him after practice. "what is your problem?" you demand, your hands propped on your hips. "i know you don't like sho, but you haven't said a single word to me since you joined the club."

tobio flushes in embarrassment as he stares at you. he doesn't mean to, but his eyes narrow into what could be perceived as a harsh glare. "i don't have anything to say," he says truthfully, his voice coming out colder than necessary.

when he rushes off to hide his growing fluster, you're left standing there confused.

you and kei barely interacted at first tbh

he had never seen you before and it was the weekend when you met so he had no reason to assume you'd ever talk again really

even after finding out you were related to shoyo, he didn't bat an eye

after all, he's not exactly going over to the orange-haired boy's house for sleepovers lolol

but to his surprise, you're in his classroom the next monday morning as a foreign exchange student

your classmates rush to you, overwhelming you with numerous questions about your hometown, and it's clear to kei that you're flustered

you meet his gaze over the crowd of people, and for a moment you're shocked to see him

however, before either of you can do anything, you get bombarded with even more questions

to your surprise and his, kei scoffs as he approaches your crowded desk

"can't you see you're bothering them?"

the gaggle of students dissipates with embarrassed apologies, leaving you and kei alone

your relationship with him from then on is odd

there's an unspoken agreement that you both don't like being bothered by other people, and you lowkey bond over it

he would never admit you're friends, but he comes to your rescue often

if you can't understand a phrase or if you don't know the answer to a question in class, he'll quietly help you out (but don't bother asking about it, 'cus he'll deny it vehemently)

when you start hanging out during practices, he ruffles your hair and rests his arm on your head regardless of your height

making fun of you is his love language (not that he'd ever admit he has feelings)

tsukishima kei! meets you when you're babysitting natsu. the team had been out getting ice cream (as per koshi's insistence—for team building), leaving kei in a sour mood because he would rather be anywhere than here.

"shoyo! sho!"

the whole team looks over, seeing a little girl who is the spitting image of their short middle blocker running toward them. kei's expression drops even more, because there's two of them?

shoyo almost drops his ice cream cone with the way the little girl jumps on him. "what are you doing here?" shoyo asks, scrambling to catch his sweet treat. "where's—"

before he can finish his sentence, another figure comes running at them, out of breath. "natsu!" you scold airily as you make your way up to the team, hunching over and resting your hands on your knees as you try to catch your breath. "jesus, don't just run off like that!"

you look up at shoyo from your hunched position, letting kei get a good look at your face. you're flushed, sweat beading on your brow bone and lips are parted as you breathe harshly through them. it's clear to the blond that you've been running around for some time now, something that makes him snort into his strawberry ice cream cup.

"sorry, sho," you wince, practically dragging the little girl, natsu, to your side. "she ran off while i was paying for her snacks. she probably saw you through the window." you vaguely gesture to a nearby convenience store, holding up a bag of candy.

you talk with shoyo for another moment, before turning to the rest of the team. your eyes briefly meet kei's and he arches a brow at you. you apologize for interrupting them, but daichi insists that you're fine and that you and natsu can hang around since you're there anyway.

as a result, you and kei end up standing near each other as the group converses. kei had been hanging a little bit away from the others, minus tadashi of course. you end up near him by coincidence—you don't know the others, and the three of you end up quietly sitting in acknowledgement that you didn't want to talk.

my darling baby tadashi is a mess when you meet <3

he was practicing his volleyball skills when he accidentally whams you in the face

he'd feel guilty about it for a while (even if you insist you're fine) and would use it as an excuse to buy you drinks from the vending machines lol

"this is the fourth drink you've bought me this week??"

"i have to make up for hitting you somehow :((("

becoming friends with tadashi is surprisingly easy, given how shy he can be

it becomes a habit to meet you by the vending machines before practice

the time in the halls between classes and volleyball are spent getting to know you

he asks a lot of questions about what it's like in your hometown and the differences in your culture

i don't think he'd start liking you until after you also get close with kei though lol good luck

the first time he sees you joking around with the tall blond, he thinks his heart is about to beat out of his chest

you must be an angel, he decides as he watches you get along with kei

the three of you form a trio and you end up spending more time with them than shoyo LOL

kei absolutely knows about tadashi's feelings and takes every opportunity to tease him about it whilst you're blissfully unaware

he's so so smitten around you after he realizes he likes you

the type to look at you like you hung the stars in the sky yourself and to becoming maddeningly red whenever you so much as make eye contact with him

yamaguchi tadashi! hits you in the head the first time he meets you. he was in the gym alone, practicing his float serve. you pushed through the heavy metal doors just in time to get slammed in the face with a ball gone awry.

he feels his heart drop to his toes as he quickly rushes over to you, asking if you're alright and if you need to see the nurse. his panic only worsens when he realizes you're bleeding from your nose.

although the hit shocked you, you're left watching in amusement as tadashi scrambles to find something to stop your nosebleed with. when he eventually returns to you, having ran from the boys washroom to grab a wad of papertowel, he apologizes again softly.

"are you okay now...?" he asks when your nosebleed finally stops. he looks almost like a kicked puppy, his hair falling limply into his eyes.

even after you reassure him that you're fine, tadashi still wears his guilt like a crown. he offers to buy you something from the vending machines, and does so despite your insistence that he doesn't need to.

"you can accept it for my sake," he says sheepishly as he offers you the cold can. the two of you converse quietly, with you introducing yourself as a new foreign exchange student.

"oh!" he suddenly lets out, looking over at you. "did you need something in the gym?"

"i was looking for my cousin," you sigh. "he said he was in the volleyball club and i haven't been able to find him at all today."

he's shocked when he finds out that you're shoyo's cousin—the boy had talked about you earlier in the week when he found out you were transferring to karasuno. as you talk, tadashi thinks to himself that shoyo never mentioned how cute you were.

your first meeting with keishin is awkward

ltrly knocks you off your feet when he runs into you

he's kind of brash when he meets you, not caring if you think of him badly because of it

you don't have much of a relationship at first—your work pulls you to the classrooms after all, so he doesn't really see you around often

the next time he sees you, you're stomping into the gymnasium mid practice with an irked expression

he's about to tell you off for interrupting practice, but he quiets when he sees you make your way to your younger cousin

he only watches in amusement when you tell him off for his horrid grades

when shoyo turns to keishin for help, he only shrugs with a lazy grin on his face

"sorry, little man, you heard 'em. no volleyball games until you raise your grades"

to shoyo's chagrin, you and keishin make a terrifying pair for him (and the other three idiots lolol)

you only really start hanging out with him when you end up making a late night run at his convenience store

it's the first time he sees you in casual clothing and the case of beer in your hands makes him laugh

"you wanna share that?"

he becomes your drinking buddy every other weekend, and he grows to cherish the time you spend chugging back cans of beer with him

keeps his feelings on the downlow, but as time goes on even the boys realize that their coach has a soft spot for you

ukai keishin! bodies you the first time you meet. the man doesn't realize his own strength until he literally knocks you flat on his ass after he turns a corner and bumps into you. his eyes go wide when the books and papers in your hands go flying, falling around you in a frenzy.

"shit," he curses under his breath, bending down to pick up your things. "sorry 'bout that." his voice is gruff as he speaks, collecting your papers without much care. when he returns them to you, some of them are scuffed and crumpled.

as he's handing you your things, he finally gets a good look at you. you're dressed more formally than he is by a mile. he holds a hand out to help you to your feet, his brown eyes falling to the lanyard around your neck.

"you new here?" he asks, jutting his chin out to gesture to your nametag. student teacher is typed above your name and picture.

you nod deftly, brushing off any dirt from your dress pants. "i started today. and you are?" your eyes meet his, and he knows you're silently scrutinizing him. he's much too old to be a student, you deduce easily, but he's dressed far more casually than any other other teachers.

when your eyes drift up to his bleached hair, he snorts. "i'm the coach for the volleyball club," he grumbles. "i don't need to be wearing fancy shit like you."

he sees your eyes light up in recognition as he analyzes your face with crossed arms. "the volleyball club? you must know my cousin then. hinata shoyo?"

keishin deadpans at you. "you're the runt's cousin?"

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[foxy-eva]

Send Nudes

Summary: Chaos ensues after you accidentally send Spencer a nude pic

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) dub-con (Spencer receives an unsolicited nude pic), embarrassment, awkwardness, tension, heavy kissing, male masturbation, oral (fem receiving), handjob, protected penetrative sex

Author's Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Wrong Recipient Challenge!

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

Panic. Embarrassment. Shame. 

It was hard to describe what you felt when you stared at your phone, realizing that you had just sent Spencer Reid a nude picture of yourself. 

It was a mistake, of course – right when you wanted to send him a screenshot of an article, you stumbled over the mess in your apartment and selected the wrong picture. Frozen in place, you watched in horror as the read receipt showed up instantly. 

Spencer had just seen your naked body light up on the screen of his phone. 

A picture he never asked for and probably didn't want to see. It wasn’t a bad photo, some might even call it aesthetically pleasing. But you had never intended for anyone else to see it. It was just a way for you to make yourself feel good about your body. 

You contemplated your options. Burning your phone, moving across the country and changing your identity sounded intriguing but difficult to arrange. Instead you decided to text Spencer, hoping that soon you’d both be able to laugh about the embarrassing thing you just did. 

“I am so sorry about that. I really didn't mean to send that! Can you please delete the pic and forget about it?” 

You didn't get a response. Spencer was never great at texting but you had really hoped to hear back from him. It was hard to tell if he felt just as embarrassed or maybe even offended – you certainly wouldn't want to receive unsolicited nude pics either. 

You had barely gotten any sleep when you walked into work the next morning. Worst case scenarios had plagued your mind all night – from another painful workplace sexual harassment seminar to maybe even losing your job over your mishap – you had no idea what would expect you today. 

Everything seemed normal when you got to your desk, except for the fact that your favorite coworker didn't even look at you when you walked by him. Spencer usually liked sitting beside you in the conference room and also on the jet, but he did neither of those things that day. 

“Wow you really must have pissed Reid off, huh?” Luke whispered when he sat down beside you on the plane. 

“Did he say anything to you?” you wanted to know. 

“No, he didn't. What did you do? Spill coffee over his favorite chess board?” he teased. 

“Oh it’s so much worse than that,” you whined while heat rushed to your face. 

Emily decided to discuss the case before Luke could ask more questions. Spencer avoided you for the next couple of hours until you decided you both had suffered enough. 

A quiet moment in the coffee kitchen of the police precinct seemed good enough to approach him.

“Hey Spencer,” you said and noticed how he almost jumped at the sound of your voice. 

“H…hi,” he mumbled, his eyes fixated on the floor.

Stepping closer, he finally looked at you for the first time that day. The rosy shade spreading over his cheeks was impossible to ignore. 

“I’m very sorry about the… you know. I didn't mean to send it but I understand if you feel offended by it,” you sincerely told him. 

“I’m not… offended.”

You took a deep breath before you continued talking, “All I want to say is… if you want to discuss this incident with Emily or even HR, I would understand. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable in any way.” 

“No, it’s okay, really,” he lied. “We can just forget about it.” 

Spencer Reid was good at many things. Lying, however, definitely wasn’t his strong suit. You decided to drop the subject for now, aware that talking more about it would probably not make him less uncomfortable. 

The tension between you two was palpable for the rest of the workday. When you stepped into your hotel room that night, you were relieved to finally have a couple of walls between the two of you. 

If this thing didn't resolve soon, you’d have to talk to Emily about it eventually. But there was still hope that it wouldn't come to that. The embarrassment about your mishap was already bad enough as is.

The three knocks on your hotel door startled you. With your heart beating uncomfortably fast, you walked over to the door to find Spencer on the other side. 

He walked into your room without saying a word. Then he began slowly pacing up and down your room, still silent. He looked at you for a second but his sight fell to the floor immediately after that. 

“I uh…” he began before taking a deep breath. “I lied to you earlier.”

“About what?” you wanted to clarify. “Wanting to go to HR?” 

He shook his head. “I said that we can just forget about it but I don’t think I can do that.” 

Your heart felt heavy at his words. His discomfort pained you and you wished nothing more than to be able to take it back. “I’m so sorry Spencer.”

“I deleted the image off my phone but…” he paused to finally look at you. The expression written over his face was hard to read. What you didn't find was the discomfort you expected. Instead he looked… cocky?

He continued, “...it seems like it’s burned into my brain. And I can’t help but wonder, was it really an accident?”

“What?! Of course!” you squeaked. “Believe me, I would never want to send you a picture like that unprompted.”

That was when you saw a subtle smirk on his face. “Interesting choice of words.” 

You thought about it for a moment. Had you really just implied that you would want to send him nudes if he’d ask you to? 

“That's not what I meant,” you tried to brush it off. “And please don’t give me a lecture about Freudian slips.”

His presence filled the room and you felt like you couldn't take deep enough breaths to satiate your need for oxygen. His demeanor was so different from what you were used to and you had trouble wrapping your head around it.

His next question was even more surprising. “Who did you take this picture for?” 

The undertone in his voice was unsettling and you started feeling defensive. “I don’t see how that's any of your business but just for the record, I took it for myself. I do that occasionally to make myself feel good about my body.” 

It seemed as if he was content, almost relieved with your answer. You scanned his body language again and replayed his words in your head. Then it hit you all at once. Spencer was not here to scold you for what you did. 

He was jealous. And he wanted to make sure no one else got to see your picture. 

A grin formed on your face as you realized that you could play this game too.

Your tone was laced with a certain playfulness when you asked, “What did you do after you saw the picture?”

The change of your demeanor seemed to take Spencer by surprise. “I just told you, I deleted it.” 

“I don't think that's all you did.” He audibly gulped and you noticed his cheeks taking on a reddish color. Stepping closer to him, you whispered, “Did you touch yourself, Spencer?”

A shaky breath left his mouth before he confessed, “Yes.”

“Naughty boy,” You teased him. “You really liked that image, hm?” 

Nodding, he took a step forward until there was barely any space between the two of you. “I can't stop thinking about you.”

His words boosted your confidence. “I know I look great in that pic. But I think I would look even better in this lighting right here, don’t you think?” 

Before you could bring to action what you had insinuated, you felt Spencer's hands cupping your face to pull you into a kiss. The surprised gasp escaping your throat was muffled by his lips against yours. 

He kissed you with a fervor that knocked the air out of your lungs. Weakness rushed to your knees and you had to hold onto him to not tumble back. One hand pawed at his shirt while the other one held onto his shoulder. His lips felt soft yet firm against yours. 

When his tongue begged for entrance, you let it. As he deepened the kiss, you could feel heat rushing through body. A few moments ago you really thought you’d have the upper hand in this game you were playing but now realized you were just as pathetic as he was. 

Maybe sending him that image was a Freudian slip of some kind. Or maybe it was just some odd plan the universe had to bring you together. Either way, you were grateful for how things turned out. 

Your hands became curious as they wandered over Spencer’s body. The tingling in your fingertips could only be soothed by feeling his skin underneath them, so they quickly began unbuttoning his shirt. Spencer showed a similar interest in feeling more of you by the way his fingers dropped down to the hem of your shirt. 

Piece after piece both of your clothes fell to the floor, only ever breaking the kiss for as long as necessary. When you stood completely bare in front of one another, you dared to press your body against his to feel him. 

It was impossible to tell who moaned first when his length pressed against your stomach. With a firm grip on his shoulders, you moved him back until his legs made contact with the edge of the bed. You pushed down until he sat on the mattress, staring up at you with a curiosity in his eyes that made your heart jump. 

As you stepped back, his tongue darted out of his mouth to lick over his lips and you wondered if he thought about tasting you. To your surprise, he managed to not break eye contact until you challenged him, “Go on, take a look.”

His sight scanned your body, lingering on your breasts for a second before moving further down, taking everything in. You couldn’t hold back from looking at him, too. A rosy color had spread all over his cheeks and chest and when you dared to drop your eyes to his cock, you noticed how it twitched slightly against his thigh. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed when your eyes met again. 

“Better than the image?” you teased, smirking at him. 

He only nodded before looking at your body again. It was like he was mesmerized, as if a miracle had just unfolded right before him. It became obvious that he was ready to worship you if you’d let him. But first, you had something else in your mind. 

“Show me exactly what you did when you saw my picture,” you told him. 

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Wh… what?” 

“Don’t be shy now,” you snickered. “Come on, I wanna see how pretty you think I am.” 

The sweet smile on your face seemed to encourage him enough to let his right hand move towards his hardness. It was as if he needed reassurance when he found your eyes and you nodded.

He wrapped his fingers around his cock, giving himself a squeeze and you watched as precum spilled over the tip. Slowly, he began moving his fist up and down his length, swiping his thumb over the head each time he got to the top. The groan that slipped from his lips could only be described as absolutely sinful. 

You couldn’t deny how much the sight in front of you turned you on. Spencer was so incredibly beautiful and the thought that your body had the ability to make him feral like that drove you insane. 

Arousal gathered at your entrance the longer you watched him. This show was no longer enough for you, you needed more. Your hands found the curve of your chest, gently kneading them before your fingers began toying with your hardened peaks. Spencer’s eyes were fixated on your hands, his mouth hanging wide open and unabashedly moaning at the sight while accelerating the pace of his hand. 

Then suddenly, he stopped and got up from bed. Desperation was written all over his face when he looked at you. 

“Please,” he begged as he stepped closer. “I need to touch you.” 

It was everything you wanted right then, too. 

“I’m all yours, Spencer.” 

His mouth was on yours in an instant and he didn’t waste any time to move you over to the bed to push you onto the mattress. He followed quickly, towering over you as he kissed down your neck, making you moan in anticipation of what would follow. 

He moved further down your body, kissing and nipping on the tender flesh of your breasts before focusing his attention on your nipples. The sensation was almost unbearable and you could feel how your arousal began coating the insides of your thighs. 

Spencer smiled against your skin when he noticed you rocking your hips against his leg every so slightly. His confidence grew as he realized that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. 

“Needy,” he chuckled as he kissed down your stomach. “That’s cute.” 

Right then you couldn’t care less about being in charge, you just wanted to be taken care of. When his lips brushed over your inner thigh, you opened your legs further to give him better access. He lay down between your legs and didn’t waste any time before he began leaving feather light kisses against your folds. 

You watched as he licked his own lips, tasting your essence on them before he found your eyes. 

“You’re so wet,” he teased and let a finger move along your slit. “Is that all for me?” 

He expected a witty response, like you telling him to bring his mouth to good use for once. So it took him by surprise when you simply sighed, “Yes.” 

There was no more game to play. No more back and forth of who was in charge. It was just the two of you, equally as desperate to finally do what you both had been dreaming of for weeks.

“Good,” Spencer whispered, his hot breath tickling your core, before he finally granted you some relief. 

His tongue moved through your folds, collecting your taste before he focussed on your most sensitive spot. He experimented with different motions for a few moments, paying attention to your reactions until he found what you enjoyed the most. Your hand flew to his hair, your fingers intertwining with his curls to hinder him from moving away – even though he had no intention to do so, anyway. 

With one arm wrapped around your thigh he hindered you from bucking uncontrollably against his face while his other hand found your entrance, letting two fingers slip into you with ease. He moved with great precision, adjusting the angle and the pace according to your reactions, bringing you closer to your breaking point with every second passing. 

The sounds of your pleasure filled the room as you began dancing along the brink of euphoria. With just a few more skillful motions, he pushed you over it. Your walls pulsed around his fingers while your entire body shook. He worked you through your orgasm before he lay back down beside you, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. 

You were still panting when you found his eyes. The warm amber of his irises was almost completely swallowed by his pupils, the lust visible in his eyes contradicting the saccharine smile he showed you. 

“You okay?” he breathed as he wrapped one arm around your waist. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed while one of your hands moved down his body. 

Tentatively, you let your fingertips brush along his length, feeling his velvety skin under your touch. “Now what are we gonna do with you?” you purred as you wrapped your fingers tightly around him, making him gasp. 

With a torturously slow pace, you moved along his cock. “Tell me, Spencer. What do you want?” 

“I uhm��,” he audibly swallowed. “I have a condom in my pocket.” 

The fact that he brought a condom to your hotel room when he came over early amused you. He never had any intention of just talking to you. 

“So, you want to fuck me?” 

“Yes,” he admitted unabashedly. “If you want that, too, of course.”

With a nod you confirmed that that was exactly what you wanted as well. Right after you let go of him, he grabbed his pants from the floor to take out the foil wrapper. You watched as he ripped it open and carefully rolled down the condom. 

Then, he kneeled down between your legs, taking a moment to admire the beauty of the woman in front of him. 

“Come here,” you cooed and he leaned over you without hesitation. 

Reaching between your bodies, you guided him to your entrance. He closed his eyes when he slowly entered you, relishing the sensation of stretching you open inch by inch. When he was fully inside you, he kissed you before he began moving with slow thrusts.

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you brought him even closer. When he was sure that you could take it, he accelerated his pace, fucking you against the mattress until you were sure you would lose your mind. 

Spencer’s body began trembling and he suddenly stopped moving. 

“Sorry, I’m really close,” he whined and tried to pull out slightly. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded as you kept him in place with your legs around him. “Please, I need it.”

One of your hands moved down to where your bodies were joined to desperately draw circles around your little nub, making you clench hard around his hardness. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered as he began moving again. “I can’t, ah–” 

With just a few more deep thrusts Spencer came, his cock twitching inside you as his whole body shook. It was enough to throw you over edge too, entering a state of pure bliss together with him. After you had both come down from your high, you welcomed him inside your embrace, your fingertips gently dancing over his back as he caught his breath. 

For the sake of getting cleaned up you separated for a few moments, only to lay back down together soon after. A shaky breath fell from Spencer’s lips and caught your attention. 

“So…,” he began talking but didn’t continue. 

You propped yourself up on one elbow to find his eyes. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask if maybe–” 

“You want me to send you that pic again?” you interrupted him with a grin on your face. 

“No,” he laughed. “I mean… that’s not what I wanted to say.”

Still in a teasing mood, you snickered, “But you would like to see that pic again?”

“You know what,” he chuckled as he lifted the blanket to get a peek at your naked body. “I think I actually prefer this.”

“Good,” you chirped. “If you want to see more of me you’ll have to take me on a date though.”

Placing a soft kiss on your lips, he whispered, “Deal.”

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[makingqueerhistory]

":')))))))) you realise that gen AI is available to everyone though right??? Queer creators can use it just as much as anyone else??? I just don't understand this post... It really feels like a cheap way to get on the 'AI Bad's bandwagon, and coming from such a thoughtful and insightful creator that's incredibly disappointing... It's okay to not comment on subjects you're not an expert in y'know...?"

Y'all know the drill, I am replying to this publicly but that is not an invitation to send any negative messages to the person I am replying to.

Anyways, let me start by saying that the original context of the post you're replying to is discussing an event where a queer org used generative AI to steal an interview with Keri Hulme. So let's start there. To be clear I don't even know if the original interviewer was queer so let's put the identities of stealer and stolen from to the side. I want to explain the harm done in this example specifically and I hope this is illustrative of what harm generative AI can (and does) do.

The original place I saw generative AI was a queer org that explicitly says they are using generative AI "for good", and as a way to bring more queer history to light. So let's take them at their word, and assume they are not out to cause harm. This is the best example of generative AI that I can imagine, so I hope that makes it clear that I am not coming at this issue from bad faith in any way.

Here is the harm they are causing:

Decontextualizing and rephrasing an interview: I am not going to pretend that I am an expert in academic best practices, but I do believe one thing, if a person is speaking on their own identity and lived experience, it is always much better to directly quote than it is to rephrase. As I read this source, I initially didn't know that it was AI, and I was already upset. An interview that is widely available on the internet with no pay wall, was poorly sourced and made more vague than it was in the initial text. By creating one degree of seperation between the original words of A WRITER (whose literal job was largely based in choosing the right words to describe experiences they had) harm is already done. It makes vague what was once clear, and removes Keri Hulme's voice from her own narrative.

The original interviewer is not paid, or given proper recognition: I get it, sometimes just copy pasting an interview doesn't feel transformative enough, but something that one would learn if they worked in the queer history field and weren't a literal robot rehashing what has already been said, is that not everything needs to be transformed. In those cases, we give credit to the person who said the original words (in this case Keri Hulme), and the interviewer who facillitated the conversation (in this case Shelley Bridgeman). This case (again a best case scenario), takes the attention and byline away from the original interviewer and gives it to an AI.

The original publisher of this story is deinsentivised from paying interviewers in the future: The original publisher of this interview has ads on their website. As a person who also has ads on their website, taking an article like this and rephrasing it for no good reason (the orginal word count was not prohibitive and the rephrasing did not make it more readable), takes money from the publisher. It's pennies, but it's also removing numbers could have been used to justify further interviews with asexual people and archiving of asexual stories. The org that stole from this publication does not interview people themselves so the money and numbers that could have gone to continue to preserve asexual stories goes to stealing them instead.

These are just the active harms that I saw in this specific case. As you said, I am not an expert in generative AI, and will not be speaking as if I am. But I will say that asking me not to speak out on active harm that is being caused in queer history spaces, is disrespectful to my many years in this field.

To illustrate this even clearer: if you were a patron, you would know I recently took down an old article. I have been rereading and editing our backlist of articles, and I found one that no longer fit my standards of sourcing. My standards had recently raised due to a video made by HBomberguy about someone in the queer history space who was stealing from other creators. I watched this video not as a work project, but because I watch most of HBomberguys videos, and this one made me think more critically about sourcing. An AI can't do that. All an AI has is what has been inputted, and it is right now impossible to input every available peice of information about ethics into an AI and get a coherent ethical basis on which it will function.

It is a distinctly human trait to absorb information and change in that way. AI can rephrase information that already exists, steal it, recontextualize it even, but it cannot create something altogether new.

Do I believe that there one day might be an ethical use for Generative AI? Maybe. Do I believe that coming into a queer history space, stealing the words of a Maori asexual author, rephrasing them, and giving the original interviewer and publication no form of compensation for their work, is accomplishing that? No.

On a more personal note: I am coming at this issue with a bias. As a queer history creator, I do not want AI in my space, because it is literally damaging to my financial prospects. It has been like pulling teeth to try and get patrons in the current state of the global economy. I don't blame anyone from that, but I feel very disrespected that I am being asked to compete with a machine now. Not only that, but I am being asked to shut up and be fine with it? No, absolutely not. I cannot and will not stay quiet as space that I have fought tooth and nail to create in mainstream discussions is taken and given to AI.

AI was not supporting me when I was sent gore to try and scare me off of discussing queer history. A person did that. AI was not there to tell me I had written too many sad stories, and I needed some happy endings to remind myself of the good in the world. A person did that. AI was not there when I was being harrassed for supporting and including asexual stories on my website. A person did that.

And after all that, I am being asked to lie down and take it when my ability to pay the people who supported me in those ways, is being threatened. Nope. Not going to happen.

An AI doesn't have to make rent. An AI doesn't understand what it feels like to have to stop holding their wife's hand in public. An AI didn't get calls from people needing comfort in reaction to the election. Pay me for my work, and get this AI nonsense out of my face.

[celesterayel]

something out of my dreams | luke castellan

pairing : luke castellan x dionysus!reader

request: could you possibly write a luke x daughter of dionysus please? maybe she’s like super nice and when percy gets to camp she becomes like an older sister and luke is super whipped for her? @elz-zalarrr

IN WHICH — all he knows is that you were something out of his dreams.

"trust him like a brother, yeah, you know i did one thing right. starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night" - t.s.

w.c. 1.8k

warning(s) : cheesiness ゜✭・.

✩ ‧₊˚ author's note okay i've begun to realize that low-key i feel like i write in cursive if that makes sense? if a feeling could describe it i'd say its like using poetry to write? that's likely not any better lol :)

there was but one person that everyone could agree they adored at camp half blood.

it didn't matter what grudge who had with whom or what ancient rivalries transcended the ideals of reality, everyone loved you. not the typical type of brittle love that crumbled at the slightest of touches, but pure adoration that endured the sands of time.

you with the gentle soul, who healed others with each laugh and smile. when new half-godlings were brought to camp, you made sure to comfort them and make them understand that they belonged here and would find a home whether they wanted to or not. you made sure that no birthday was forgotten, no deed undone.

children of minor gods or elders, of Ares or Aphrodite, you became an older sister to all who needed you. you, the daughter of fertility and chaos, the god dionysius.

there was no debate that at camp half blood there was only a before you and an after you. you were like that high right before the free fall–invincibility and smoke and curiosity wrapped into the form of a demi-god. you were the gentle breeze during summer nights when the heat became too much. and none ached more to feel it than luke castellan, who had been burning for as long as he knew.

your relationship in itself was tentative, you danced around your feelings–scared one wrong touch or word would break the shaky, fine line that lay between you two. but you could not hide the way you loved the other to yourselves nor the children of the beings of divine blood. 

luke castellan loved you like the stars would fall out of the sky with one harsh touch, free and incandescently self-destructive. like you were a wild, wonderful thing out of a fantasy.

you loved him like there was no hell or heaven but the cosmos that lay in his eyes and the worlds that lay in his soul. something so sacred and rare. a love so true and mortal it put all the greek tragedies to shame. 

you knew that whatever you and him were made of, in every lifetime or the next you two were made for each other. 

loving luke castellan would be both your redemption and destruction in the making, your elysium for whatever good thing you had done in your previous life. 

✩ ‧₊˚

you first met percy jackson when he came to camp, he was a scared little thing who had just lost his mother when the veil between reality and deception flickered. everything he’d known came crumbling as quickly as the truth was uncovered: gods and monsters were real and played games of hell and heaven on earth. some thing about him called out to the vulnerability you once knew when you first came to camp so you made it your mission to be the sister he never had. 

you met him at the front of the steps of the main office, “my name is y/n, percy jackson. welcome to camp halfblood.”

“do you just somehow know everyones name,” he raised his eyebrows at you. 

“yes.” no, but you supposed it’d be fun to let him think that. 

“of course you do.”

“come along, i’ll show the ins and outs here. if you're nice enough, i might let you in on the cook's secret stash of blue ice cream,” you laughed out.

he contemplated his choices before grabbing your outstretched hand and shaking it, “deal.”

you showed him who to avoid and the best people to befriend. the history between your kind and why the gods were as they were. the truth behind his bloodline and the legacy that he was now responsible for. the tribulations and the pain that was cursed to follow the children of the gods. 

“and this is chris. the best person to ask if you need to know what plants are poisonous,” you say, introducing him to a guy with black hair and soft eyes. 

percy looks at chris before looking around to see where the hermes boy is, “we’ve met. he was with luke when he was showing me around”

you’re cheeks heated at the mention of his name; looking around to see if you can spot the familiar tan skin and soft eyes that belong to your luke. 

“oh! luke! yeah, he’s around here somewhere. he’s sly like that, wandering and then popping up the next second.”

a voice pipes up behind you suddenly, “y/n, already telling percy everything about me?” 

you whirl around and there he stands in all his glory with the curls you love and the sun in his eyes. your golden boy.

“just telling him the truth, castellan. you’re hard to get a hold of sometimes.”

a hue of pink covers his cheeks, “i’m never far from you.”

both of you oblivious to percy and chris who seem to be conversing about you both and the tip-toe dance you play. 

percy just wonders what’s happening here: firstly, luke is looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars and that’s saying something because he has shit observation skills–his analysis essays can attest to that. secondly, he swears he can see hearts in his eyes from where he’s standing and is that…is that a blush?

he turns to chris, who is just staring at the two like it's not out of the normal for what’s happening, “what’s happening here? is he blushing?”

chris just nods, “yeah. luke’s kinda–very obviously to everyone–in love with y/n. if i didn’t know better i’d say she’s gotten him insane in love. very likely as her dad’s the god of insanity.”

he turns back to the two who are laughing and standing closer than before, “like super, super in love. if there was a word for love, luke’s found it”

“huh.” 

chris says it like it’s common knowledge like how the best food is blue jelly beans, “i mean i ship it, y/n’s the sweetest person around here–the type of person people write songs about. she’s like a sister to us older ones and a mother to the younger ones. the whole camp is waiting for him to just man up and ask y/n. they make each other happy, you know?”

“yeah, i think i do.” 

percy thinks it’s something the poets would write about.

✩ ‧₊˚

fridays are capture the flag days.

you’re not the type of person to engage in these types of games all that often but you suppose there’s a first time for everything. someone’s got to show the percy boy how it’s played. 

“okay, percy. remember, keep your senses open and make sure that no one gets close enough to engage. once they engage, it’s hard to fight them off.”

all around you two, people have begun to don their armor and raise arms. the sun has just reached its height and you’re huddled together discussing your gameplan. even though your cabin house is pretty small, you’ve joined athena and hermes for this game. 

percy’s voice rises a little high as he tries swinging his sword around only to drop it, “yeah, okay. i’ll just try not to die, i guess. that’s not like hard or anything.”

“just follow my lead and if i’m not here find luke.”

you're not exactly excited about percy’s odds. the kid is lanky as is and his sassiness doesn’t help him out much when others target him for it. 

that’s exactly why you’re gone to his rescue when he nearly gets hit in the face by a spear after he insulted one of the boys from house ares. 

your heel nearly buckles under a sharp hit after you block the attack that’s directed to percy. you manage to reset your heel and push the sword off before you drop down into a crouch and sweep the legs of the warrior in front of you.

unfortunately you're slightly too focused on what’s in front of you and protecting percy you don’t realize that someones charging toward you from the side. 

fortunately, a block from a familiar sword stops any attack that might meet you head on. no sooner do you hear the block that luke’s got the other guy on the floor and surrendering. 

you grin at him, “i had that handled.”

giving you that grin that makes you feel like your future's right in front of you, he replies: “i’m sure you did. but why let you deal with him when i can save you the trouble.” 

“why don’t you go and help annabeth win the games, romeo.”

he gives you a wink, throwing a quick ‘yes ma’am’ before he’s already running off again. 

no sooner than later, a quick gong resounds throughout the camp, concluding the games. you’re standing slightly battered while percy walks behind you pointing out all the flowers he’s found. you definitely need to teach him how to defend himself. 

the players are just trickling in for the woods they’ve been fighting in to reband together and in the distance you see a figure running toward you. 

holding onto the flag, he continues to look at you like you’re everything he’s ever needed to breathe. he’s taken his helmet off and you can finally see him fully: brown eyes and all dimples.

“see you’ve found the flag.”

he takes a couple of steps closer to you until only two steps separate him and you, “yeah, someone told me to go win the game so I did just that for her”.

“really now?”

he whispers, “yeah.” 

his eyes twinkle and you’ve never wanted anything more than to continue to stare at them. 

you hope he’ll make the next move but luke castellan, the boy you’ve fallen for in every lifetime, is always content to admire you.

so, you take those two next steps, grab him by his neck, and press your lips to his. 

he stands shocked for a minute, wondering if what’s happening is really happening. but no sooner, he’s dropped the flag on the grass and holds you like your the greatest treasure he’s ever had.

there’s a certain type of tragedy that your golden boy tastes like, fire and freedom all in this moment. it’s the price of redemption and damnation that you’re willing to pay. 

to him, it’s the stars aligning like you’d will them to–the power you held and every thing he’s ever needed. your his past, future, and present: the threads in his life giving him the one thing he’s ever wanted. something he’s only ever dreamed of. 

he pulls back slightly before murmuring, “in every lifetime or the next, i am yours. i don’t know what i did to deserve you. you’re something only out of my dreams, y/n.”

"you sap"

you just kiss him again, ignoring all the campers and those still trickling in. 

✩ ‧₊˚

“definitely a child of dionysius. she’s reduced him to insanity,” pipes up percy as he tears off the petals of the flower he holds in his hand. 

chris just grabs a flower and continues to rip the petals off like the boy beside him. 

“damn straight!” shouts luke toward the two.