#i have like 14 of these things to do as well

[themultifanshipper]

Sometimes, there's nothing like some heavy drinking and extreme cold to make sure best friends don't stay best friends.

You and Franco found this out the hard way.

Warnings: don't fuck on the beach guys it's really not a good idea, smut, belly bulge, squirting, alcohol, so many petnames I lost count, no good judgement to be found anywhere

I'll set the scene.

Winter break, at a beach house on the Argentinian coast, at night.

Everyone is sleeping, the only sound that can be heard is the waves crashing on the sand.

You and Franco were indeed best friends. And deeply, deeply in denial about your feelings for each other.

You followed him everywhere, fucking up your education to go to all his races, ever since you were 14.

And he never had a girlfriend because... well, how could he even look at other girls when you were around?

Now you were 23, and he'd fucked around a bit, and so had you. But it was never anything serious, drunken one night stands mostly.

But there you were, on the beach at 2 in the morning, playing a game of drunk hetero-chicken.

Like gay chicken, but longer and more painful to watch.

It involved throwing back shots, and running into the ocean.

The twist was that the ocean was fucking cold when there was no sun to warm you up, and there was only so much the cheap tequila could do, so once you were in the water you had to huddle up to share body heat.

It was only a matter of time before the huddling turned to groping.

You can't even remember who initiated the first kiss, but neither of you wanted to stay in the water for long after that.

Franco carried you out, your thighs firmly wrapped around his waist and his hands digging into your ass.

He set you down in the sand and climbed over you, shoving his way in between your legs.

You both knew what was about to happen, but were too fucking in love to care.

You whined at the stretch when the first of his thick fingers made its way into your quickly dampening cunt.

“It's okay, querida. Let me take care of you”

He bit your bottom lip at the same time as the second finger slipped in, both actions making you groan into his greedy mouth.

Mouth that decided to start traveling south and sucked a couple of bruises into your skin before going even further.

The hand that wasn't pumping in and out of you came up to pull at the string of your bikini, exposing your tits to him as he gulped and looked deep into your eyes.

“You are perfect, mi vida”

He leaned down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, making you arch into the sensation and he took the opportunity to slip a third finger in.

He hooked them upwards and you groaned your approval of his ministrations.

“Franco, fuck me- please”

“In a minute, baby, let me just-”

You looked down at this hand, and the sight of him slipping a fourth finger in was enough to make you clench around them, and he groaned, the squelch almost audible over the crashing waves.

“Fuck Franco, that's- I think that's enough, no?”

He chuckled. “I need to prepare you, the last thing I want is to hurt you. I am... uhh, big” he muttered, almost shyly, and if it hadn't been night-time you would have seen the blush creeping along his cheeks.

And if the bulge in his shorts was anything to go by, he wasn't lying.

You slipped a hand in the waistband, pulling them down slowly, and marveled at the thickness that met your touch.

Your fingers were barely long enough to wrap around him, and he grunted as you started pumping him slowly.

“Come on Franco, I won't break. I need you inside me, please”

And who was he to deny such a request.

Despite his inebriated state, he went slow, and was incredibly careful as he inched inside you with measured thrusts.

When his hips were finally flush with yours, you let out a wanton moan.

“Fuck, I'm so full”

“I know querida, just breathe”

He let you adjust at your own pace, kissing your neck in an effort to distract you from the intense stretch.

“Okay” you gasped out “You can move baby”

The first gentle thrust was eath-shattering and you couldn't help but let out a shrill cry, which spurred Franco on.

He lifted you with an arm around your waist, sitting back on his haunches and holding you up so that he could thust into you while you clung onto him, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

You came once like that, panting and moaning into his mouth, before he lay you back down and put your legs over his shoulders.

He pounded into you hard and fast while you squirmed and whined at the overstimulation.

“Franco, oh my god” you gasped, feeling the beginnings of another orgasm approaching and he chuckled when he felt your cunt squeezing him tighter.

“You can do another one for me, baby, can't you?”

He looked down at you with a sick smirk and you nodded.

He glanced further down and his jaw tightened at what he saw.

“Look baby, look how good I’m filling you”

You followed his gaze and landed on the slight bulge that appeared when he was fully inside you.

You moaned and he laughed, his hips speeding up.

“You like that, huh? Go on and rub yourself for me while I make you feel good”

You complied immediately, fingers going down to rub fast circles on your clit, and at the same time Franco put a hand over the bulge and pressed down.

You saw stars, literally and metaphorically as you spasmed around him, juices coating his hips and thighs, and seeping into the wet sand.

Your head was thrown back while you cried out his name into the night, and once you were sated he quickly pulled out and fisted his cock until the thick ropes of his cum landed on your thighs and soaked folds, mixing with your own release.

He leaned down to kiss you, not caring about lying in his own spend because, after all you just needed to have a dip in the water to clean off.

You lay like that for a bit, just kissing in the moonlight while the sound of the waves faded into the background.

After a while you separated and he chuckled.

“Thank god we are outside. I don't think I've ever made anyone squirt that much before.”

You slapped his chest lightly and giggled. “Franco!”

He smiled and leaned down to capture your lips once more.

“Come, lets go inside before we catch un resfriado”

You didn't know what that was, but you followed him anyway.

You took a long hot shower, and curled up together in bed, like you always did.

The next day you learned what a ‘resfriado’ is (it’s a fucking nasty bitch of a cold), and you also learned that Franco's poor mother had gotten up in the night to get a glass of water, and had the misfortune of looking out of the window.

She apparently got quite an eyeful of the filth that you two were getting up to.

[karenandhenwilson]

Let's talk about the 21st century and queer rights

Sometimes I see a post and wonder what kind of world people live in, how ignorant and hateful they are of the community they claim to be part of, and even the most recent history of that community.

I saw this post with this line in it: "Its the 21th century, are we still suppose to justify people who lie at their partners in order to protect their reputation?" And I'm not reblogging because I don't want to have it on my blog.

So, let's talk about the 21st century and queer rights in the US, shall we, @queershits?

Did you know that same-sex marriage in the US as a whole has only been legal since the Supreme Court decision on Obergefell v. Hodges on June 26, 2015? Prior to that, the first state to grant same-sex marriage was Massachusetts in 2004, while the first civil unions for gay and lesbian couples became legal in 2000. But at the same time, 28 states had banned same-sex marriage and the recognition of those marriages from other jurisdictions until 2015. In fact, the federal government had been banned from recognizing same-sex marriages by the Defense of Marriage Act in 1996, which had been voided by the Supreme Court decision in 2015 but has only been fully repealed by the Respect of Marriage Act in 2022. That's all the 21st century. And very recent 21st century!

When Hen and Karen adopted Denny in 2011, they weren't married. Because at that point in time, they weren't allowed to in California.

Did you know that until the Supreme Court ruling on Lawrence v. Texas on June 26, 2003, same-sex sexual activity was illegal in 14 US states? And that even with that ruling 12 of these states have not changed their state's constitution, so that these laws aren't executable but still on the book and regularly used to harass queer people? (And didn't the current Supreme Court just say after overthrowing Roe v. Wade they'd like to take a good long look at Lawrence v. Texas, too? People might lose their rights again in those 12 states if the worst comes to pass here.) That's all the 21st century.

Did you know that "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" came into effect in 1994, allowing gay and bi people to serve in the US military as long as no one found out about their sexual orientation? If they were found out, they could face dishonorable discharges or even prison time. Either would be a permanent burden on their records for the rest of their lives. DADT was repelled in 2011 after a long and hard debate. That's well into the 21st century.

Karen explicitely states that DADT is part of the reason she didn't become an astronaut. (Though, NASA was never truly subjected to the rule as it is not a military organisation. But on the other hand, many of the astronatus are active or former military.)

Tommy was at the 118 in 2005. We know he was in the Army prior to joining the LAFD. That means Tommy served under the rule of DADT, which would have been an immense burden on him.

Do you know that there is a defense called "LGBTQ+ panic" often used in combination with a defense of insanity, provocation, or self-defense? This defense tactic is only banned in 21 US states, and most of those bans are very recent. In 2018, only three states had banned this defense. In 29 US states people are allowed to say "this person is gay/trans/queer/etc and I felt threated by that fact alone so I saw myself with no other choice but to hurt them" in a court of a law and the jury has to consider that argument. That's the 21st century.

Let's take a look at the kind of world Josh, Michael, and Tommy would have been children and teenagers in. That's not quite the 21st century, but it's near enough.

Tha aids epemedic started in the 1980s, and is — for the record! — still ongoing. But in the 1980s it was very much deemed a problem of the gay community only. And many, many people claimed outrageous things like "they're getting what they deserve". Josh and Tommy are both 80s children, Michael was a teenager in the 80s. We know Tommy grew up with a bigoted and hateful man like Gerrard as a father. He probably heard the above quote and worse regularly.

Have you ever heard the name Mathew Shepard, @queershits? (If not, go and educate yourself!) Mathew Shepard was a young gay man tortured and murdered in October 1998. Josh and Tommy would have been teenagers or maybe young adults (as we don't know the exact age of either of them) when that happened. It was all over the news and there were, again, people not shying away from saying he got what he deserved. I've no doubt Tommy's father (and Gerrard) was one of those people.

That's the world Josh, Michael, and Tommy grew up in as gay men that Josh talked about. They didn't hide to protect their reputation, as it was put in the quote above. They hid to protect their life and well-being. Finding the confidence and security to let go of that kind of learned behavior to protect yourself is so hard. But all three did it!

There are still people today who have to hide like this in the US. Because they're born into the wrong family or the wrong neighborhood or the wrong religious community where being queer is still seen as a ground to hate them, to exclude them, to hurt them, to kill them.

The number of hate crimes is rising again. The hard-won rights and freedom of queer people are threatened again. It's the 21st century, but that doesn't mean we are always safe or that we don't sometimes have to do shady things to protect ourselves or that we can lean back and enjoy the rights we have. Because many of us all over the world either don't have any rights or are facing the very real danger of losing the rights again that those who came before us fought so hard for.

[basuralindo]

Thanks for the @!

uhhhh

For a guy who can't shut up in the tags, I actually really suck at coming up with things to say about myself when asked (I've started off on the wrong foot at basically every job by turning into a deer in headlights when new coworkers try to get to know me with questions like this lmao)

I grew up in the mountains (singular, it was a volcano in the middle of the ocean, but similar vibe) raising chickens, and they're still one of my favorite animals of all time

Speaking of favorite animals. I was always obsessed with snakes, but they were prohibited in the state so I could never own or see any in the wild, so I got obsessed with eels as the next best thing. Once on a vacation when I was little, I almost got bit by one of the deadliest sea snakes on earth because I thought it was a zebra moray and swam right up to check it out (don't swim up to morays either btw. that would have been a bad idea even if I was correct)

Just about everyone who taught me to speak had a different accent and native language and the area I lived was a major hub for both immigrants and tourists, which resulted in me always code switching and never developing a consistent accent of my own. To this day my base accent is made up of bits and pieces of shit I lived around that leans heavily towards whatever the last person I spoke to sounded like. It's awkward af and always makes me worry that I sound like I'm mocking people

I'm 31 and met my partner when I was 14, meaning I've known him longer than I knew myself alone, and I still get really mushy about that. We talk to each other in so many layers of references and inside jokes built up over the years that it may as well be a different dialect

Tagging @quartz-candles @sluttyonceler @katabaesis @firenren @deezneezz-2 @ineffable-writer @unpredictable-probabilities @masterofrecords @weilaverdui (again if anyone feels like doing this go for it, I want to know about my mutuals but always forget names)

IF YOUR SEEING THIS, SAY 5 THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF AND TAG 5 PEOPLE

I was an sonic fan.

I try my best to stick to the canon.

I love pop & rock.

I know a lot about anime(like jujutsu kaisen) so some people misunderstand me that I like anime.

I suck at gaming

@aurora-starlight-silly @miracle-negative @r31ncl0udcry @zoepreppyutfan @fruitcake5

[dronningreid]

✧ Part 1: All the times I knew you

A seemingly ordinary case turns into something more when reader returns to Reid's life. Forcing him to tell something that he never told, the beginning of a story that broke his heart fourteen years ago.

change the ending series masterlist

who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

category: angst/fluff

warnings/content: reader jealous, reader is a little mean to jj (nothing personal, i love that queen), mentions of maeve, allusion to bullying, special appearance of alex blake, reid is a little mean to reader, very vague mentions of a case and reader and reid appear aged 12, 15 and 31. English is not my first language.

word count: 3.1K

a/n: Hello this is the first part of my series 'Change the ending' I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing this. There are a couple of references to the song cardigan (because that is my most personal song and also Spencer's)

14 years, 160 days, 33 minutes and 13 seconds. That was all the time that had passed since Reid last saw you.

It is said that there are always more questions than answers and that has never made more sense than today.

Today's case promised to be average on the Reid scale, of course.

Today promised to be just another day, like the rest. Just an irrelevant Wednesday where he would miss the Sunday of talking to Maeve, which was still fresh in his mind.

As fresh as you, a memory he should have let burn away fourteen years ago. But it wasn't that easy, even without his eidetic memory you attached yourself to his cerebral cortex as if you had been there since the first time he opened his eyes.

If there was one thing he had learned all those years ago, it was that the memories most want to forget are the ones hold on to the most tightly.

"Earth calling Reid." JJ waved her hand in front of his friend's face.

He blinked a few times. “Yeah. What’s up?” He tried to keep his gaze on JJ, but his eyes kept drifting to your shape. So close and so far at the same time... Just like the last time.

Maybe it was a mistake in his mind and it wasn't you, fourteen years had passed. How could he even recognize you? He didn't even know if you were still alive.

Maybe this time it was like when everything ended and he thought he saw you everywhere. In the grocery line, at school, at home...

As if you were a phantom he couldn't get rid of.

He knew those shadows weren't you and yet every time he thought he saw you it was like such a simple activity like breath became complicated out of nowhere. You used to have that effect, honestly you still have it.

Jennifer frowned before turning her gaze to you. But a couple more eyes weren't enough for you realize what was happen. "You know her?" The question caught him off guard.

How should he even answer such a question? Yes, more than anything. No. Of course. Maybe. Neither was a sufficient answer because on the one hand of course he knew you, at least that's how it was before and that's why he didn't know you, at least not now.

He shoved his hands into his pockets before finally looking at JJ. “She looks like someone I used to know.” 100% true? No, but pretty close.

"I was hoping so, it would help us if you met her." Reid frowned. "Bertram is our most viable suspect, if we lose him we're going to hit a wall." JJ explained something that Reid should already know, should.

"And what does that have to do with her?" Reid raised an eyebrow.

JJ was the one who frowned this time. "Spence, she is Bertram's lawyer. Are you okay?"

When he was about to answer, you approached him, increasing his questions, doubts and clumsiness.

"I'm Bertram Harris' lawyer." You introduced yourself before continuing, answering at least one of Spencer's questions. "What is the imaginary evidence against my client? Because if there was real evidence, charges would have already been filed." He knew that harsh tone so well...

"We have 48 hours before we file charges." Reid replied seriously.

"46 hours." You corrected so casually. He recognized you, but you didn't recognize him? Ouch.

"Well, we have a profile-" You didn't let Jennifer finish speaking.

"Profiles." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "I bet a lot of people would fit in your profile, so that's not enough to prove my client guilty in court." You spoke firmly, fierce as a defense lawyer, and you weren't in court yet. And even though he didn't exactly like your attitude, he had to admit that you were good.

Reid crossed his arms. "Out of so many people, it's amazing that the evidence will lead us right to your client. So we'll take advantage of the 46 hours we have left."

You snorted. "Fine, but when time passes and all of you have nothing against my client, he'll be upset about the time you made him waste." You pulled a pen out of your bag. "Give me your names."

JJ and Spencer shared a look before sighing and agreeing to your request. "Jennifer Jareau." You jotted the name down on your palm.

"Spencer Reid." A hint of mockery crept into his serious tone. Yes, you probably didn't remember his face, but his name was something you'd never forget.

You barely wrote the S on your palm and it was like the ink turned to poison when it came into contact with your skin. You immediately rubbed your palm against your trousers before looking up. "Spencer Re...?" The last few letters died in your mouth.

Of course, no one else had those beautiful eyes with hazel colors and golden flecks. So bright, so honest, so innocent. But now in those eyes there was nothing more than severity.

JJ's gaze traveled from Reid to you and back to Reid, using her profiling skills to determine why the air had suddenly become so thick.

"You look... Different." You whispered as he suddenly decided that silence was his best friend.

The wall he had built so long ago was still as strong as the last time you saw him. The last time he saw you he was so serious but this time after fourteen years he made you feel like you were seventeen again.

"You too." Rather than stating the obvious, that sounded like an insult.

JJ cleared her throat. "Spence." He looked away from you. "You know her?" Jennifer whispered in a failed attempt to get you not hear her.

"No." You were surprised at how quickly the letters that came out of his mouth took shape.

"Liar." You pointed out before looking at Jennifer. Though your attention wavered to the ring on her finger. "He knows every inch of me." You lifted your chin.

JJ raised her eyebrows and the way she looked at Reid it seemed more like gossip to her than a tease...

You thought. <<Yeah, maybe she doesn't>>

"Her husband's name is Will. It's not me, she's just my friend." He clarified, though it's not like you were entitled to clarification. At least you hadn't had that right for a long time.

Even when he was just a student he also had that ability to read you like an open book.

"And as for what you said, I'm not a liar." His tone was painfully stern. "I knew you before, fourteen years ago, but that's too long for anyone to remember." That's what he wanted to repeat to himself, because honestly the memories that were about you had no expiration date. "Now and maybe even then I have no idea who you are."

He gave you one last look before turning on his heel and walking off to somewhere where he couldn't sense your presence.

"I'll talk to Bertram about not pressing charges." JJ looked at you in confusion and to be honest even you couldn't believe that a stupid teenage love affair was enough to affect your work. At least you weren't the only one going through something like that.

"And I'm sorry..." A lump formed in your throat. "Maybe I shouldn't even ask you this, but could you deliver something to Spencer?" You then pulled a card out of your bag and handed it to Jennifer.

She studied the black card in her hand for a few seconds, carefully looking at your name and phone number. "Of course, I'll give it to him." She smiled slightly at you.

You gave her an awkward smile before turning away. God, you felt so stupid now for thinking she was his wife. Besides, what would be wrong with him having a wife? Spencer Reid deserved to be happy.

As soon as you left the police station, JJ pulled out his phone. "Penelope, you won't believe what just happened."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Reid was in a small office going over all the evidence again for a reason he wouldn't admit out loud.

But he had already checked everything three times and had hit a wall all three times. The time it took him to figure things out could vary, but this was different.

What he didn't know was that the answer was there, it's just that his mind was too clouded at the moment to realize it.

And all that mental fog had a name: yours.

He loosened his tie, taking a deep breath to regulate his racing heart. Apparently you still had that effect on him, you, the protagonist of a story so old that it must have already had cobwebs. But unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case...

Spencer gripped the edge of the desk before taking another deep breath.

But his attempts to relax were cut short when his worst enemy: his own memory made him relive the last time he kissed your lips...

The soft skin against each other, the mingled breaths, your hands in his hair and the way he didn't see that those would be the last kisses.

"Another disadvantage of eidetic memory," he told himself. But now that he thought about it, did it have any benefit? Of course it did. But all the tangled threads in his mind didn't allow see the reality.

Someone knocked on the door and he jumped slightly in place before looking towards the door. "Blake..."

Blake smiled slightly at him. "Hi." Her eyes scanned the papers scattered across the desk and then Reid's disheveled appearance. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded quickly, taking his seat back behind the desk. "Yeah." But the way Alex looked at him made him say something else. "Not really."

She sat down in front of him. "Yes, we all know about the pretty lawyer."

"Jennifer..." Reid huffed before running his hands over his face.

"And who is she?" Blake asked in her usual calm tone.

<<Good question>>

A short time ago he was telling her about Maeve, he never thought he would tell Blake about another girl again and not so suddenly... But honestly you weren't another girl, you were THE GIRL.

Reid sighed. "She's nobody." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It must be someone if the smartest guy I know hasn't already given us a big revelation that will help with this case." Blake looked at him with understanding eyes. "Go ahead Reid, talking about it will help."

Reid rubbed his knees with his hands. "Well I can't tell you who she's, but I can tell you who she was."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Spencer took a deep breath. "I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning is perhaps the easiest." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to continue.

"We had a lot of beginnings, if that's possible." He ran a hand through his hair.

His mind traveled back to the first interaction he had with you, when you were both 12. But before that, something else had to happen for him to get to know you, something very bad.

He was in the library when Harper Hillman approached him.

"Alexa Isben wants to meet you behind the field house." She said.

She was there. So was the entire football team. They stripped him naked and tied him to a goal post. So many kids were there, just watching...

He begged them to, but they just watched. Then finally they got bored and they left.

He had told that story to Morgan years ago, but he had completely erased you from it. Until now.

Alex looked at him with compassion. "It got dark and I thought I would stay there forever. But then she appeared..." He looked away, remembering it as if it were yesterday.

A little twelve-year-old you ran towards the goal post. "Oh my god. Who did this to you?" You kept your eyes fixed on his defeated face.

He had never seen you before, did you even study there? Because you didn't look the same age as the guys he was going to graduate with, the ones who had done this to him...

You looked much younger, like him.

You weren't discouraged by his lack of words, instead you considered how to help him. "Wait here, I'll go get some clothes and some scissors to cut the rope." You didn't wait for an answer, you just ran off to find what you told him.

The cold of the night was beginning to seep through his skin, freezing him. He didn't even think you'd come back, but then. "Be careful with the scissors, if I sting you, let me know." So you put all your effort into cutting the rope, at that moment you regretted not carrying a knife for ease.

Luckily, a single cut was enough to release the rope. You then spread the clothes you had found over him and covered your eyes with your hand.

"I hope it fits, it's my brother's so it might be a little big on you." Spencer took the clothes from your hands.

"Thank you." He whispered as he hurriedly put on each item of clothing. "You can look now." He said once he finished putting on the shirt.

You pulled your hand away from your eyes. “Oh, I forgot the jacket. You must be freezing cold.” You said as you hurriedly unbuttoned your loose black cardigan.

"Oh, you don't have to..." Embarrassment seeped into his words but you still put your cardigan on him.

"It's okay. You need it more than me. By the way, I'm..." Then you told him your name.

He watched as you finished buttoning the cardigan. "Spencer. Spencer Reid."

"You should tell me the names of those who did this to you, then I can tell my mother to expel them. She's the principal." You let your hands fall to your sides.

"It's not that bad..." Yes it was.

"Of course it was!" You exclaimed. "Give me names and I'll beat them up myself. I hate bullies."

Spencer let out a light laugh that quickly disappeared at the bitter feelings bubbling up inside him. "They're the older guys, you can't handle them. Besides, this could have been worse."

"Don't underestimate me." You tried to joke. "Worse? How long have you been tied up there? It's almost midnight" You looked at him with concern.

"Midnight?" His eyes widened. Surely his mother was worried that he hadn't come home.

So you grabbed him by the sleeve of the cardigan and dragged him along. "Come, I'll ask my dad to take you home."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"So her dad drove you home?" Blake asked.

"Yes. It was like midnight when I got home. My mom didn't even realize I was late. She was having one of her episodes..." He sigh, how could something that had happened so long ago still have such a negative power over him? "I know I shouldn't get into a stranger's car and technically nothing bad happened to me, they helped me. But I did it... Because I felt like I could trust her but maybe it wasn't a good idea from the start."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that to meet her."

Spencer sighed and looked down. "I regret about both."

"Both?" Blake looked at him in confusion.

Reid looked up. "Yeah, what happened that day and meeting her." He replied with a seriousness too cold to be true.

Blake stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds before speaking again. "What happened next?"

"I don't saw her again, it was like she just vanished." He sighed. "Then three years passed and there she was again..."

"I was studying for my first PhD at MIT so I decided that over the holidays I wanted to go home to visit my mother. But instead of taking a flight I decided to travel by train."

It's funny how a single decision can affect our future.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"The last train to Las Vegas leaves in five minutes." A voice announced through one of the speakers.

"One ticket, please." The woman at the ticket office handed him his ticket once he gave her the money.

Reid was about to board the train when you crashed into it.

"I'm so sorry." you continued to apologize as you helped him up from the floor.

He brushed off his clothes once he was standing again. "It's okay, don't worry."

You tried not to look at him, not after you had thrown him to the floor. But he did look at you which made his heart skip a beat when he recognized you.

He stared in your direction for a couple of seconds before deciding to continue and board the train.

"Oh, I, I had my money here." You patted your jacket pockets. "If you could just help me I'd pay you right away... It's just that it's very important for me to have that ticket because it's the last train to Las Vegas and I really need to go." But the woman at the ticket office didn't take pity on you.

Then Reid came over. "I'll pay for the ticket."

The woman didn't say anything, she just accepted Reid's money and handed you the ticket, which you immediately took.

"Thank you so much, you just saved my life." You followed him to board the train together.

"Okay, we're even now." He smiled slightly at you.

You hadn't planned on sitting next to a complete stranger but you followed him. "We're even?" You asked as he placed his luggage in the compartment.

"I'm Spencer." He hope that will refresh your mind.

You opened your mouth in surprise. "Of course! Spencer Reid, I remember you well." You scanned him from top to bottom. "The answer to where I left my favorite cardigan three years ago." You tried to load your luggage into the compartment but couldn't.

He helped you out, like a true gentleman. "I'm sorry I didn't see you again after that. Do you want it back?" He asked after closing the compartment door.

"You still have it?" You asked in disbelief.

"It's my favorite too." He whispered.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"I didn't plan on things being like this, but she and I were together the whole trip. Just chatting and-" He looked down as nostalgia washed over him. "Marked me like a blood stain..."

"She seems pretty nice so far." Blake commented. "What went wrong?"

"She was really nice." He sighed. "At that time, nothing bad had happened. In fact, after that incredible trip I lost track of her again and didn't see her again until two years later."

He looked up. "But I didn't really know her until our third beginning, when everything started to go wrong..."

[embracing-the-ineffable]

Breaking the Silence, posted by Neil Gaiman at 10:20 AM (1/14/25)

I haven't had a chance to process this yet, but NG has posted on his website:

Text below the cut if you don't want to follow the link (And a reminder to everyone, please be radically fucking kind to everyone as they process this in their own ways):

"Over the past many months, I have watched the stories circulating the internet about me with horror and dismay. I’ve stayed quiet until now, both out of respect for the people who were sharing their stories and out of a desire not to draw even more attention to a lot of misinformation. I've always tried to be a private person, and felt increasingly that social media was the wrong place to talk about important personal matters. I've now reached the point where I feel that I should say something.

As I read through this latest collection of accounts, there are moments I half-recognise and moments I don’t, descriptions of things that happened sitting beside things that emphatically did not happen. I’m far from a perfect person, but I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone. Ever. 

I went back to read the messages I exchanged with the women around and following the occasions that have subsequently been reported as being abusive. These messages read now as they did when I received them – of two people enjoying entirely consensual sexual relationships and wanting to see one another again. At the time I was in those relationships, they seemed positive and happy on both sides.

And I also realise, looking through them, years later, that I could have and should have done so much better. I was emotionally unavailable while being sexually available, self-focused and not as thoughtful as I could or should have been. I was obviously careless with people's hearts and feelings, and that's something that I really, deeply regret. It was selfish of me. I was caught up in my own story and I ignored other people's.

I’ve spent some months now taking a long, hard look at who I have been and how I have made people feel. 

Like most of us, I’m learning, and I'm trying to do the work needed, and I know that that's not an overnight process. I hope that with the help of good people, I'll continue to grow. I understand that not everyone will believe me or even care what I say but I’ll be doing the work anyway, for myself, my family and the people I love. I will be doing my very best to deserve their trust, as well as the trust of my readers.

At the same time, as I reflect on my past – and as I re-review everything that actually happened as opposed to what is being alleged – I don't accept there was any abuse. To repeat, I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone.

Some of the horrible stories now being told simply never happened, while others have been so distorted from what actually took place that they bear no relationship to reality. I am prepared to take responsibility for any missteps I made. I’m not willing to turn my back on the truth, and I can't accept being described as someone I am not, and cannot and will not admit to doing things I didn't do."

Here's information about yesterday's article, which he's responding to:

And another reminder to everyone, please be radically fucking kind to everyone as they process this in their own ways.

[voxina]

Jade Thirlwall was only 14 when she first presented herself for judgement. She put on her best leopard-print headband and bravely sang some of Whitney Houston’s ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go’ in front of the X Factor panel. “You’re a funny little thing, aren’t you,” remarked an amused Simon Cowell, like a cat playing with its food. Louis Walsh then jumped in with: “Unusual!” In response, Thirlwall thanked them with an unwieldy grin. 

For this tiny singer, it would be a case of third time lucky. After being put through to boot camp twice, she auditioned again at the age of 18, now wearing leopard-print trousers. Judge Kelly Rowland told the naturally shy teenager she’d be good in a girl group, an idea that Thirlwall was completely unimpressed with. She was resolute about being a solo artist and an unusual one at that.  

Rowland, of Destiny’s Child fame, had correctly identified herself in Thirlwall. That season of the show, Thirlwall was placed in what would become the second biggest-selling UK girl group of all time, Little Mix. Their accolades could fill an infinite scrolling Wiki page. They were a well-oiled commercial pop machine amassing billions of streams with hits like ‘Black Magic’ and ‘Shout Out to My Ex’ while touring stadiums until they went on hiatus in 2022. “I didn’t see myself as a conventional girl’s girl. I was nerdy and quiet. When they told me I was gonna be put in a girl group, I automatically thought of Pussycat Dolls,” she laughs. “I thought, ‘Oh no, I’m not sexy — and if they’re bitchy, I’ll struggle because I’m not confrontational at all. I shrink at any drama.’ But it turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to me for my confidence and understanding of sisterhood.”

Tonight, I’m sharing wine with her at a table in Shoreditch House to discuss the fact that Thirlwall finally has what she wanted: she is the solo pop star she always dreamed of being. “I’m a bit of a dark horse,” the Rolling Stone UK Trailblazer Award winner tells me. “I’ll try anything once. I don’t see myself as a safe person creatively and I am a bit strange. All my life I’ve been told I’m weird.” Her bandmates and friends saw it, her boyfriend, Rizzle Kicks singer Jordan Stephens, saw it, Cowell clocked it after only minutes in her company, and now the rest of the world gets to see it.  

Outwardly, she didn’t seem like the biggest personality in the band, but behind the scenes, Thirlwall had been the creative driving force and business mind. For her solo project, that incisive playfulness is fully on display. From the horror-influenced visuals to the Drag Race inspiration, Thirlwall — whose solo artist name is JADE — is more aligned with Charli XCX than Little Mix. On the addictive lead single, ‘Angel of My Dreams’, she switches between a Y2K sound, hyperpop and a nostalgic girl band chorus gone wonky to tell a story about the dark side of the music industry, a theme that is repeated across her presently untitled debut album. It’s smart and entirely unexpected.  

In person, Thirlwall has the same excitable offbeat energy she had as a 14-year-old in her first audition. She’s like a conspiratorial friend primed for gossip exchange: she directs me to a clip that circulated from a Little Mix interview where fans thought she was on cocaine because she was pulling odd faces. “People don’t believe me even now,” she laughs, pausing to sip on her rosé. There were bad moments and dramas when she was in the group, of course, but she’s prepared for the same to happen in her solo career. “I’m never going to discredit what we achieved. I don’t have anything bad to say about it, so I wouldn’t stir anything up, just to look cool,” she laughs again. 

The group’s young fanbase has matured with its members. Thirlwall doesn’t see it as her responsibility to appease them or tell them what they should and shouldn’t do. “I’m 31 years old, I’m gonna write about stuff I experience, my merchandise will reflect that, you know what I mean?” One such recent merchandise bundle includes sex aids. The other day, while recording with Sugababes, she told them what’s included in the package and had to explain to Keisha Buchanan what a butt plug is, much to her amusement. This is an older and wiser Jade Thirlwall having even more fun.

Thirlwall grew up in a household of eclectic tastes in South Shields, a seaside town near Newcastle. Her mother was a Motown fan who looked like Diana Ross, while her dad listened to 80s power ballads and VH1 classics. Her big brother — who she aspired to be like as every younger sibling does — was deeply into the happy hardcore-clubland classics era of the 90s and 00s. It was a happy childhood, in part due to the fact that there’s a strong Yemeni community in South Shields (Thirlwall is half Arab: one-quarter Yemeni, one-quarter Egyptian). “I have a lot of memories of my grandad cooking curries or waiting for him outside the mosque,” she remembers. “I listened to his prayer and Arabic music, too.” It wasn’t until she went to a Catholic secondary school, where she felt alienated, that she began to struggle with racist remarks and her feelings of anxiety. She was bullied by other girls, hence her initial reservations about being in a girl band. 

While she was in Little Mix, she didn’t understand that she could have spoken out more about her race. “I’d only ever seen negative stereotypes of Arab people in the press, so I was scared to promote my heritage,” she says. “I feel sad for my younger self that I could’ve been the representation I needed back then. I try to make up for that now.” Thirlwall has been outspoken about issues close to her heart. Whether it was attending Black Lives Matter protests and pro-Palestine rallies or becoming an LGBTQ+ rights ambassador for the UK charity Stonewall, she stands out among many of her peers for her political verve. 

Each of the girls knew a year ahead that Little Mix were disbanding, so they individually spent that period preparing in the studio. “It took me a long time to figure out how to not write a Little Mix song because that’s all I’d done for a decade,” admits Thirlwall. Panicked about the idea of having so much stillness after the group, she made an abundance of music in a bid to find her sound as soon as possible. This became an advantage: so sure of what she wanted to do, Thirlwall was able to approach potential labels with a fully formed vision. After signing with RCA of Sony, they assured her she could take her time to release her solo music, which came as a surprise: in the pop world, two and a half years is a long time to disappear. “In hindsight, I was freaking out about existing without the group and thought I had to jump on the hype of us just disbanding. If I’d released then, I would’ve been anxious and have put so much pressure on myself to be as big as [Little Mix] was.”

[...]

If Thirlwall was in charge of the music industry, it’d look different. Sure, it’s improving for artists because social media means “you can’t get away with as much bad shit”, but there’s some way to go. When I ask her how she’d change it, she sits up in a businesslike manner and adopts an Elle Woods from Legally Blonde tone. Before she’ll answer that, she’ll take me back to the nagging feeling she had that something wasn’t right with Little Mix. The four girls were presented with different contracts and told who their team was, and she didn’t feel she had a choice. 

To all intents and purposes, Thirlwall and her fellow Little Mix band members were child stars. She agrees with this assessment. “I almost think you shouldn’t be allowed to be a star until you’re 18. I’m so glad I was turned away and didn’t get put in Little Mix until I was 18 — and even then, I feel like that was too young,” she says. 

Previous X Factor winner and South Shields born-and-bred Joe McElderry had warned Thirlwall of his negative experiences in the industry. “I remember him saying make sure your mum’s there when you’re doing all these important signings. But I was too young to understand what he meant, and I made the same mistakes as him.”  

It wasn’t until halfway into their career that the young women looked around and wondered who that person in the room being paid to be there was or why their peers and friends were making more money than them. Thirlwall and bandmate Leigh-Anne Pinnock helped to write the Little Mix music but weren’t signed into a publishing deal until 2019. Unfortunately, it was a “really shit deal” that they were stuck in but at least she was finally recognised as a songwriter, financially speaking. (For her solo career, she has not signed a publishing deal because she now finds it hard to trust the entire framework.)  

If she were queen of the industry, her first decree would be to introduce a comprehensive course that artists take as soon as they’re signed by a label (if not sooner), that teaches them what a label deal is, how royalties work and how they make their money. That would prevent the type of situation that Little Mix got into when they were first signed. “When you come from a working-class background, you get your advance and think you’ve made it, but you have to recoup everything back. You’re getting all these lavish cars and making them wait for ages, but you’re footing that bill eventually,” she laughs drily. She would also introduce the sort of mental health care she’s managed to negotiate as a solo artist with her new label: a substantial pot of money that she can use if she needs therapy. 

The topic of mental health brings the conversation round to Liam Payne, the One Direction member who tragically died in an accident while under the influence of drugs in October. He was Thirlwall’s peer — the only X Factor pop group to outperform Little Mix by any metric was One Direction, with the two groups frequently spoken about in the same breath — and was once her friend. They both had their first auditions during the same series, aged 14. The pair returned a second time: Liam went through to the finals and was placed into One Direction while Thirlwall was sent home. Payne was encouraging of Thirlwall and told her she had to keep trying X Factor. She was then put in a group on a later series. They fell out of touch over the years, but she was naturally upset to hear of the news for both him and for his family — their mothers are still friends.   

“When the news broke out, it did shake me up because we’d started the same, but we’d ended up on very different paths. We both wanted to make it so much and sometimes that is a blessing and a curse to get what you’ve dreamed of. It’s unbelievably tragic,” she says of Payne’s death.  

Just hours after it was reported that Payne had died, Thirlwall was due to start a heavy day of promo for her single ‘Fantasy’. She cancelled it as she didn’t feel like she was the right person to be fielding questions about his passing so soon after it happened. After all, she hadn’t been close to Payne over the past several years. “All I can speak of is who I knew he was when we were kids, and he was someone that wanted to make his family proud,” she reflects. “He wanted to be a singer more than anyone I knew.”

[Full article here]

[yharnamsnewslug]

I feel like the Gaiman and Palmer story is one of cowardice. Gaiman didn't want to face what happened to him in his childhood, and he exteriorized that shit through raping young, vulnerable women whom he could have control over. Palmer didn't want to face the backlash that would come if she confirmed that she'd known all this time what he'd been doing, so it's easier for her to lie and do nothing.

Fighting against a system of institutional rape culture and misogyny is fighting against one of the oldest established systems of control that people have over each other. It's got everything; racism, imperialism, misogyny, classism! You name it, it's there!

Gaiman can keep doing what he wants because he's a cis white man. Because he's rich. Because he's famous. Because he's a beloved celebrity (arguably until now) and he can, and has gotten away with it before. What's the other option to indulging in his sick fucking fantasies? Admitting that he has, indeed, done monstrous things and that his childhood being in a cult had something to do with it.

Breaking cycles isn't easy. Perpetuation of that cycle doesn't have any excuse, either.

His child, and at least 14 women, will live with the consequences of his cowardice. And Palmer is to blame as well.

honestly reading the Neil Gaiman piece on Vulture I was just thinking about Bojack Horseman the whole time. like. he's got trauma and whatever else, maybe he even convinced himself it was all consensual, but at the end of the day he's empowered by a larger system to do this type of shit & it will always be easier to not change, to not grow, and to just indulge your worst possible impulses over and over again. because everyone around you wants you to do that. they want to enable you. they want you to either get away with it so they don't have to face consequences by extension, or they want you to do it so you're as bad as they are and you're less likely to challenge them when they do it.

Like no, he's not a monster; he's a human person who knew better but chose worse anyway. I don't totally believe he knew exactly what he was doing, or that he's doing it to maintain some kind of rich vs. poor, powerful vs. powerless dynamic.

I think he's a man with childhood trauma who has been told that he should not heal, he should not change, he should not challenge the system, and in fact it is better that he participate in it. That he can take the easy way out (not that it'll ever actually lead him anywhere close to "out"), and he should, and it'll be easy, and everyone around him will enable and protect him if he does. That if he decides to fight for real healing and real growth instead, he will have to fight hard against everything and everyone around him, and he will be alone in that fight.

That's the wrong choice. He's responsible for all of the hurt he caused every single time he made it. He deserves no sympathy from fucking anyone for any of it. The only way out is through, and that means facing all of the full consequences of his many, many fucked up and horrible choices.

And I think we need to reckon with the system that makes the horrible shit Gaiman did feel like the easiest option, or we're not gonna get anywhere.

[eyesthecolorofarson]

Next-to-last of our species

Based on this

“Project Cadmus’ purpose was to create an anti-Justice League of sorts,” Dr. Lilva said calmly, twisting her hair in the hand that wasn’t handcuffed to the table. “But despite Luther’s unimaginable wealth, he was cutting costs in this incredibly delicate operation. He decided that instead of one clone for each Justice League member, we’d do one for two.”

“Why?” It wasn’t like Luthor to cut costs, Batman mused. He flaunted his money as if it’d make people forget he was a supervillain. Maybe he’d spent too much on his last mech suit. He should tell Dick that. “I don’t know. But it worked in our favor. We weren’t really creating clones. We were creating embryos that had your DNA. But, as we all know, you need two sets of DNA to form a full body. So, mixing two of your DNA together would not only give the clones a stable body, but the powers or,” she motioned to him, “intelligence of the parents. Which is how we got here.”

Three scientists from the now destroyed Project Cadmus, Dr. Lilva, Sal, and Trit, had turned themselves in to the Justice League saying they were willing to share everything that had happened during Project Cadmus on the grounds that they be allowed access to job opportunities in their very narrow fields. Dr. Sal, who seemed most against turning themselves in, rolled his eyes. “It would have been fine if—“ “No it wouldn’t!” Dr. Trit glared to him. “It would have!” “No! It’d be fine if we hadn’t combined Martian Manhunter and fucking Batman! We created a Batman that can shapeshift and move things with his mind!”

Dr. Lilva sighed. “Be quiet. Our first stable clone was made of a combination of Superman and Luthors DNA. Where we made a mistake was the creation of 14; the combination of Martian Manhunter and Batman.” Sal scoffed. “He wasn’t a mistake. He was a success. As smart and calculating as Batman, capable of shifting into inanimate objects and people, as well as incredible telepathic and technopathic abilities. The mistake was making him too smart. Too aware.”

“We wouldn’t have been able to prevent it.” He looked around. Superman didn’t look very good. He was pale and sweaty, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. Martian Manhunter had a very odd expression on his face, as if he was trying to find every bit of information about ‘14’ that he could. He probably was. Superman met his eyes, and he knew he was questioning how he felt. He was fine.

“13, the combination of Superman and Luthor, didn’t have Luthors intelligence but he did have Superman’s powers. Average intelligence but very emotional, he seemed to feel everything ten times more intensely than others. 14, however…. He was best at learning. Not just science or math….” Lilva shivered. “He watched us, copied us, and it took us far too long to realize, but he was reading our minds. Learning.”

“Unfortunately, it took us longer to fully understand the lengths of his technopathy. We thought it was just light electrokinesis, but—“ she cut herself off with a strangled laugh. “When he started talking about our personal information, things we looked up, things we talked about at home without our Cadmus devices—that’s when we realized he’d attached himself to every. Single. Piece of technology. That we’d interacted with.”

She motioned for Sal to speak. He sighed. “One day, I was staying late to finish some work. 13 was incredibly clingy, and 14 was a charmer, so they got to share a room. One of the walls was made entirely out of nth glass. 13 was asleep, and 14 was watching me. He tapped the internal mic, and asked me why I wasn’t at Lily’s recital. He told me that she was asking ‘Mrs. Millie’ if she’d seen me come in. He told me…. he told me ‘lily pad is very upset.’” Sal looked disturbed. “I had forgotten my daughter, Lily, had a play. She was playing the sugar plum fairy. Mrs. Millie is her teacher, and ‘lily pad’ is a nickname I have for her. And he knew that, despite me never mentioning having a family.”

That was a little disturbing. Not just knowing about his family, that was easy with a little research into the employee, but to know not only the teachers name, the recital, and a nickname, that implied that ‘14’ had been watching Sal for quite a long time. “How does this imply that ‘14’ had ‘attached himself’ to your devices?” Lilva motioned for Trit to speak. She also sighed. “Ok. So. Uhh, during my break I’d, uh, use my home phone to watch Netflix and stuff. And keep in mind Project Cadmus was located almost twenty five miles underground, and the break room was on surface level.”

“Well, one day I was watching The Nun, and when I got back down I had to deal with a ‘strange situation.’” She used air quotes then sighed again, running a hand through her short hair. “13 was crying and 14 was trying to comfort him, telling him it ‘probably wasn’t real’, which made him cry harder. When I asked what was wrong, 14 yelled at me for ‘choosing to not watch Friends this one time.’ 13 interrupted him and asked me if demons were real. I told him I didn’t know, and asked 14 what this was all about.”

She laughed. “He didn’t answer, but it was pretty easy to figure out. I usually watched Friends during my break, but I’d finished it at home. So I’d decided to watch a movie. And before this we’d seen signs of 14 building a mind link between himself and 13. It was obvious that he’d attached himself to my phone, and shared with 13 what I was watching. Unfortunately, it was a horror movie.”

“After that we noticed that the electric doors would unlock and relock at random, usually locking us and the other doctors in and letting 13 and 14 out. Our computers would glitch and turn off when using them, the machines made to test their ability’s would break down right before testing. I’d tried to make sure no one put physical locks on anything because I didn’t want 14 learning how to pick locks.” Trit sighed again and glared at Sal.

“And someone didn’t listen to me.” Sal scoffed and rolled his eyes. Lilva glared at both of them. “How was I supposed to know he’d learn? He didn’t have any lock picking skills or anything to pick locks with!” Lilva gave him a look. “He had his mind.” “So, ‘14’ knows how to pick locks telepathically?” “Not just pick them,” Trit replied, “in less than a day he learned how to unlock and relock them. We learned this when Sal turned off the power to their electrical door and put locks on them.”

Trit and Lilva waited for Sal to speak. He grumbled. “I went in to fix a light that 13 had broken when he was practicing flying, turned around, and both of them were outside the room. I watched as 14 relocked the locks he’d unlocked without touching them.” Sal looked embarrassed. “I was stuck for three hours as they destroyed the lab. I had access to my—“ Lilva raised her hand for him to stop. She was looking at her phone. She was pale.

“Ms. Lilva?” He asked after a moment, “Is something wrong?” She took a deep breath, then tried to give her phone to him. She wasn’t able to. When her arm raised a spark left her phone and she yelped and dropped it, rubbing her hand as it continued to spark. At the same time, the Watchtowers main computer turned on. Batman felt himself and the others tense. The screen was covered in static.

“Stand up!” Lilva told him, her voice shaking. “Flash, stand up and walk fourteen feet backwards from the screen. Do it! Now!” Sal muttered swears. “Why me?” Flash asked, even as he stood. “Because you’re the only one who’ll give us an instant honest reaction on what you see.” That was a good point.

Flash went fourteen feet, turned and jumped. “Holy shit!” He almost choked. “There’s eyes in the screen! Like, a face—oh my god it’s smiling at me.” Bruce quickly stood, as did the others. The scientists stayed seated. Batman walked backwards to Flash, keeping his eyes on the screen. There was nothing. Static, static, static, then—he stood next to Flash and he appeared.

He took a few steps back and forward, testing his eyes. A foot forward he was gone. And a foot back, the same. Only when Batman stood fourteen feet away from the screen did he see his and J’onn’s clone, 14. He was hidden in the static, but at fourteen feet away the static melted together to form a face. It reminded him of when he was a child, stuck at galas and so bored he looked to the marble to find hidden pictures.

The static face was watching them intently. Batman could feel a finger gently poking his mind, trying to enter. He locked his psyche down tightly. 14’s face seemed to become amused. “Interesting…” Martian Manhunter muttered. “He knows who we are. All of us.” Superman stood next to Batman, tense. “What do you mean?” “It means he knows our identities. He knows where your parents live, the code to Batman’s contingency safe, the names of Wonder Woman’s mother and aunts….it seems that the moment the doctors phones got close enough to the computer, he attached himself to it.”

That wasn’t good. The static face seemed to think it was hilarious, laughing. “Who are you?” He asked sternly. It didn’t seem to affect the face. The face disappeared. Bold words appeared. ‘You know who I am,’ they said, ‘you just spent ten minutes talking about us’. So he’d been listening. How quickly was he able to get into the computer? “What do you want?” The words disappeared and were replaced with new ones. ‘Nothing much. Just, oh, I don’t know—the people that tortured and experimented on us dead? That too much to ask?’

So revenge. “What does 13 think of that plan?” He hadn't noticed it before, but there was a low ringing sound coming from the computer. It got louder at his question. ‘His name is Connor. And he shouldn’t have to worry about these things. He had it worse than I did.’ He glanced toward the scientists. They’d only told them of the clones and that there had been experiments—they hadn’t said what type of experiments. “Could you elaborate?”

‘Sure. The people sitting in front of you–if they can even be called people–are sadistic, selfish, narcissistic assholes who not only ‘encouraged’ us to show our powers with physical torture but also sold information they learned in the project to third parties. Like they’re doing right now.’ Suddenly Sal, Trit, and Lilva’s bodies began sparking and smoking. Trit shrieked and removed a wire from her hair and waistline. They sparked and the one from her waist caught on fire. Trit continued to panic as she tried to pull a chip out from under her manicured nails.

Sal removed two chips and a wire from his tie, belt and hair while Lilva removed four wires from her bra, waistline, shoelace and hair band. The one from her hair caught fire before she could pull it out, and a small section of her hair caught fire. Sal helped her pat it out as a distorted laugh came from Lilvas phone on the table.

‘She deserves worse.’ The words on the screen said, ‘Superman. Have you ever been burned before?’ Superman didn’t answer, instead whispering to Wonder Women about how odd it was he didn’t hear the wires and bugs electrical humming. ‘CLARK KENT.’ The words were bigger now, and he felt someone pinching his mind. ‘DO YOU KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO BE BURNED? DID YOU KNOW THAT YOU CAN BE BURNED?’

Superman jumped and turned, reading the words. “Uh, no—no, I haven’t. I can’t.” He sounded unsure. Batman didn’t blame him. The static disappeared, and a video played. It looked to be camera footage. It showed a medical room. Sitting on one of the beds was a boy, maybe fifteen, with short curly black hair and blue eyes. His skin was unhealthily pale, and he had bags under his eyes. He was wearing a simple shirt and pants, the shirt having Superman’s symbol on one side and the number 13 on the other.

Out of place in the medical room was a fire pit. There was a fire poker in it, and the flames were lit up green. Doctor Trit came in. “How do you feel?” 13—Connor glanced at her then looked away. “Fine. A little nauseous. Is that normal?” Trit walked to the fire pit, shifting the poker around. “Perfectly. Hold out your hand.” Dread pooled in Batman’s stomach. Connor looked nervous, but did as he was told.

Trit pulled the fire poker out, kryptonite attached to the end. Its end was slightly red and orange, cracks running along it. She turned and placed it in Connor’s open palm.

Connor shrieked and screamed, trying to pull his hand away. Trit held him still. Connor struggled, tears running down his face, begging her to stop, to help, to take it away. Trit made him hold it for twenty seconds before pulling it back. When she did they saw Connor’s hand, the flesh bubbly and red with blood, blisters forming. Connor cried, and the video ended. The static returned, but it was quiet. Almost in respect.

"Jesus christ," Flash muttered, and Batman was a little worried about the way Wonder Women was looking at the scientists. "We were just doing our jobs!" Trit cried weakly, "We didn't want to but we had to!" 'SHUT UP' The text said, and the scientists began to yelp and wither. 'There is a fine line between experimenting on a subject and torturing them.'

'What you did to us stepped several feet over that line. What you did to us spat in the face of workplace ethics and our human rights.' Trit suddenly shrieked, and Sal began convulsing. 'We're never going to forget or forgive what you did to us. He will never feel truly safe, truly happy as long as your alive.' Sal began foming at the mouth, whimpering. Trit was muttering 'make it stop' over and over again, and Lilva was writing something on the table. It looked to be a will.

"He's melting their minds," Martian Manhunter gasped, "That—that is not a metaphor. He's quite literally reducing their brain matter to mush." Flash went to the scientists side and tried to keep Sal still while Green Lanturn began copying what Lilva was writing. Her handwriting was getting worse and worse. Wonder Women went to Trit's side as she began to sob and stutter, attempting to speak. It was all incoherent.

'I don't want to hurt people.' The screen said, 'I don't even enjoy hurting them, no matter how much they hurt me. But this isn't about me, it's about Connor. It's about ensuring Connors safety. It's about making sure Luthor gets a clear cut message; hurt him, and see what happens. Try to hurt us and I'll destroy him and everything he cares about. Fuck around and find out.'

"We can help keep you safe," Batman said as Sals twitching slowed, "Both you and Connor. You don’t have to kill them." Lilva wasn't writing so much as scribling, and Trit was still crying. Her eyes were bloodshot. 'I do, Batman. They installed both of us with a kill switch. Only two ways to trip it; either insert a key into the incubators were were created in, or enter a code on the computer in Luthors office.'

Batman felt his heart drop. 'The key and the incubators have been delt with, the computer and any copy of the software destroyed. Only one person had the code. The lead researcher. And he shared the code with two other people. I have to keep my brother safe, Batman. We're all we have. I'm sorry.'

The room was much more quite now; Trit was dead, Sal was unconscious, and Lilva mumbling incoherently. 'I want to live the rest of my life by your code, Batman, and I'll try my best to do so. But please, please understand that I had to do this. Not just for revenge, but for our safety. Martain Manhunter would’ve never found the code in their minds; he's not as invasive as I am. They would’ve left and immediately killed us. Thats why Sal wanted to get out of their as quick as possible.'

'Maybe one day, when the dust has settled and Conner feels safe we can talk face to face; really talk, y’know? I'd like to do that. But I don't know when the right time for that talk will be.' It was quiet as the rest of the League read the message. The humming was fading. Batman felt his heart jump when his pocket buzzed. It was his phone.

It was a new contacct thats number kept changing. It was named 'Danny'. The text read, 'but in the meantime, I'm down for some small talk.'

[ippipo]

sylus drabble (some random scenario i envisioned)

I just came back from a friend's birthday and lounged in the living room. I looked a little towards my left to see a particular red-eyed man with a wonderful physique staring at me, burning holes into my ankles. 'Oh my God, does Sylus have an ankle kink or something?' I plead internally for that to not be true. Of course not, he's Sylus, not a weeb. Even if he did, I would still love him. But, please no.

"Who gave you those heels?" His deep and gentle voice booms through my chest, butterflies erupting in my tummy and my heart clenches at the sight of him fully. What a beautiful man. I hadn't paid attention to his question though. "Huh?" I let out while dragging the syllable as my voice fades while admiring the gorgeous felon in front of me.

"Who gave you those heels, sweetie?" He asks more endearingly, this time. "Oh, these? I thrifted them," I chuckle awkwardly, trying to hide my embarrassment, although there was nothing to be embarrassed about thrifting.

"You should have asked me," he says in an accusatory tone, as if I had dug into his old journals to find out about his toe fetish (lol this actually happened to me and my ex once when we were 14). "I would've bought you the premium quality ones. Thrifted footwear is uncomfortable and damages your feet sometimes."

"They looked so cute though," I whine. "All you had to do was take a picture and send it to me, and I would have gotten them made for you, the exact same ones but of higher quality and comfort."

"I'll remember that next time, Sy." I try not to laugh at how adamant he was, it was so cute. Can you imagine this gorgeous, beautiful, elegant, sophisticated, loving, giving man was head over heels for me, willing to do anything to make me feel good?

"I thought you had an ankle kink with the way you were intensely staring at them." He laughs at the absurd comment and wraps his arm around my waist. I caught a whiff of his scent and nearly fainted at how addicting it was. I felt his thumb drawing circles on my side, oddly comforting me as he pulled me closer to him.

I sigh softly. How could someone so dangerous bring such peace into my boring life? Sylus's mere presence made everything interesting. I even started working my boring job more diligently because I felt somewhat inspired by how rich he was, no matter how he achieved it. Do you know that feeling when someone is so admirable and great in your eyes that every waking moment you either want to be with them or be like them or both?

I glanced at his collarbone area, the way his chest heaved as he breathes, I tried to match it but nearly ran out of breath. The gold necklace added a nice touch to his button down that exposed his sternum. "So beautiful," I accidentally whispered out loud as I grazed my fingertips against his chest, feeling him squeeze my waist. "Thank you, darling. But no one can surpass you," he compliments me while running his hand up and down my waist.

I ran my hand through his dishelved yet ever so breathtaking hair, feeling its dampness indicating he came out of the shower not so long ago. I lean in to press a kiss against his forehead but it was too far for me to reach. So, I climbed atop of his lap and adjusted myself to be seated comfortably. I held his hair down with both my palms which made him look like a sad egg. I kissed his forehead, a nice sloppy smooch.

His eyes were closed, enjoying my kisses. I peck his lips quickly. It wasn't helping how his lips looked absolutely scrumptious, so I did what any normal person would do if they were in my place. I tweaked his lips with both of my index and thumb fingers on either side to erect them out more. And I nommed them. What is nommed, you may ask. Well, it is when you bite something (or in this case, someone) with your lips covering your teeth guarding the thing/person.

He opens an eyelid to find out what I was doing, and tries to speak but realizes what I was doing exactly. I finally let go, not wanting to make it too uncomfortable for his pretty lips. "Now, what was that?" He raises a brow. I giggle and say, "you just looked so adorable and I wanted to eat your lips."

"My cause of death finally would be cannibalism by my beloved. I'd like to express my sincere gratitude, my love." I peck his cheek and laugh again. I wrap my arms around his neck and bring myself closer. And here comes the kiss attack.

I shower his face with kisses all over because he's just so beautiful. "My." Mwah. "Gorgeous." Mwah. "Baby." Mwah. "I love you." Mwah.

His eyes remained closed throughout the attack but his lips curled into a pretty smile, making me want to nom him again. After 5 minutes or so, I finally stopped and leaned my forehead against his.

I question him again, "how could someone as ethereal as you exist?"

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 802: Leadership!!

Pag 1

1: The back you show is “life-sized”!! That's why people follow it

Pag 2

1: At the end of the mountain line, the course goes along the mountain ridge gently, then keeps going for a short while with ups and downs

2: It passes through a narrow tunnel

3: it reaches a three-way intersection at the “Notoge Pass”, at 700m of altitude

4: The course turns to the right and enters a serious downhill, with zigzags

Here, it enters the Oita Prefecture

Pag 5

1: Ngh...

Closing the gap on the downhill, he said....!!

Huh!?

2: Can we really do something like that!?

3: Are you stupid, Iwatani-kun?

Do you really believe Sugimoto-san!?

4: Hyaaaa

5: Kobayashi-san

This speed is scary

6: Waaaa

Pag 6

1: What!?

The guys from the selected team passed us while shrieking!!

On the downhill!?

2: “Selected team”....

3: The selected teams is the one they make every year with the guys from prominent schools who couldn't enter the race...

That's right. A ragtag team made up of cyclists with potential

4: It's an impromptu team. It's like a commemorative race

I have the idea that they end up retiring, getting cut off, or finish alone at the very end

5: But they're all in order!?

6: Maybe they have someone, senpai

Among them....

They have someone with strong leadership skills...

Pag 7

1: who could bring together such a scattered team!!

2: Sugimoto-san!!

We're going so fast it's scary!!

Pag 8

2: Fast is scary?

3: Well,...

4: This is just the right speed...

5: to catch up with the lead ahead of us!!

Pag 9

1: I told you earlier too, the lead is running on the downhill “without taking risks”

We'll do better than them. If we don't descend at a high speed, we won't make it

3: But, running while being afraid also means we're taking risks

I'll teach you, now

4: Huh!?

5: The way to ride downhill without being afraid!!

7: Is-is something like that possible?

Scary thing are just scary, aren't they?

Pag 10

1: I understand the feeling of wanting to raise your upper body and your face, but while you're on a downhill

2: Your body

3: lower it!!

4: Ugh... for the air resistance, right

Rationally, I know that, but I end up raising my face out of fear

5: The scary thing about downhills isn't the “speed”

6: Huh!?

7: I think you did it on your usual practices, too

When there are no cars or anything, going down on a wide downhill at 60km/h isn't scary

8: Ah

9: The scary things about downhills

Pag 11

1: is the fear that “we might not be able to control our bike”

2: It's like Iwatani-kun said: we also have to lower our body to resist the wind

He called my name

But, at the same time, “lowering your body”

4: also means “lowering your center of gravity”

Place of your center of gravity when your body is lowered: around 1m

Place of your center of gravity when your body is raised: around 1.5m

Pag 12

1: Center of gravity!!

2: The weight balance of a bike is 60~70kg for the person on top, while the bike is 7~8kg!! So the bike is much lighter

3: So you're saying that the weight balance of a bike changes with your own body?

4: That's right. It's the same theory of why a racing car with its low center of gravity can move faster than a truck!!

5: If you lower your center of gravity it becomes easier to move your bike as you imagine!!

6: And the control greatly increases!!

Pag 13

1: And that control is critical!! Like right now... on the downhill's zigzags, when you keep pulling the brakes over and over and accelerating in the curves

2: He's so fast!

Sugimoto-san took the curve like he was slipping!!

Pag 14

1: And once your body learns to run the the line you imagined, then your fears will naturally be erased!! Naturally!!

3: Yessir!!

Hyee!!

Our fears

4: will naturally be erased!!

Pag 15

2: I'm.... I'm taking this curve stability!!

3: It feels like I can take the curve without pulling the brakes too much!!

Pag 16

2: I can go downhill fast like this!!

3: Hyeee!!

4: It's true... if I keep my head low it's not scary anymore

5: Amazing...

Pag 17

1: You really are amazing!! Sugimoto-san!!

3: Well... I was able to realize this....

4: because I fought seriously against Danchiku for many days during the training camp!!

5: Thank you!! Danchiku!!

6: Woah, the selected team passed us!?

Huh!?

Why are they so coordinated!?

But this situation...

Pag 18

1: It's just too hard. Too hard

2: I said our goal for the first day was to be among the first ten, but to do that there are still a lot of hurdles

3: Let's switch, Sugimoto-san!!

I've gotten the hang of it!!

4: Iwatani!!

5: I'll take a turn too!!

Kobayashi-kun!?

6: But still

I'm still pulling though!

I said leave it to me!!

7: Just pull without arguing

Yessir

Yessir

I think it's not impossible

8: They say the selected team is a ragtag team

But it's also a team...

Pag 19

1: that gathere people with potential from each school!!

Hyeee

Kobayashu-saan

Come on, I said leave it to me

Ah, he moved in the front again

2: Let's go!! Let's put our strengths together!!

Pag 20

4: Slow down!!

The car for technical troubles!!

We have to brake!!

5: The support car goes to cyclists who have technical troubles

6: Technical troubles are a matter of luck

It's unfortunate... he fell back in the ranks

7: That jersey!?

8: Huh!?

He's....

Pag 21

1: The Kyofushi's.... second year!!

Kishigami Komari!!

2: Mi.... Midosuji's second in command!! The ace assistant!!

3: Huh?

It's Sohoku's... small fry meat

[fallingrealms16]

CAITVI FIC REC LIST PART 5 (???) <3333

THEYRE JUST GIRLFRIENDS YOUR HONOUR— *gunshots*

The mental anguish this ship has caused me…aye aye aye…PART 5!! All the long fics I promised in part ??2?? Idk but TAKE ITTT

‼️Lately I have been seeing a lot of targeted hate towards some authors. I wanna be straightforward and just say any hate is not tolerated on my page. If you do not like an author just don’t read their work. Simple as that‼️

I know a place by endlessmurmurs

71K Words // 14 Chapters // COMPLETED endlessmurmurs on X

//EXPLICIT//

‘But…I’m so…tired…’

‘I know. I know you are, cupcake,’ Vi soothes. Cait feels herself tilt suddenly and tenses at the feeling of falling, but it’s just Vi, moving closer as the mattress shifts under her weight. ‘But you have to stay awake, because I have things I need to tell you.’

What happens in the days and weeks (and months) following the events of Season One.

The Monsters that Haunt Us by Valkyriethehopeless

74K Words // 21 Chapters // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// a part 2 coming in Feb

It's been over a year since Caitlyn and Vi last saw each other, over a year since the explosion that killed Caitlyn's Mother and changed everything. Vi vowed to herself she would leave Caitlyn alone, that she wouldn't bring any more hurt into her life. But when Caitlyn strolls back into the lanes and asks for her help, can Vi maintain her resolve to stay out of Piltover's politics? Or will she crumble at the first sight of an old friend?

Reflections of Indigo and Violet by JetBlackSynapse

84K Words // 13 Chapters //COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

A retelling of Vi and Caitlyn's story events from the show, beginning from the events of Episode 4: Progress Day. The story will be told from both their perspectives, and switches POV each chapter (odds are Caitlyn, evens are Vi), so there will be overlapping parts.

Just to know you’re alive by pigeonmom

127K Words // 17 Chapters //COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// 🔐 account needed

A year and a half after the accident that changed both their lives, Caitlyn and her wife face the fact that things might never go back to the way they used to be.

Unhinged by loveshazel

127K Words // 18 Chapters //COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// loveshazel on X

A college AU where everyone's favourite lesbians pine for each other once more when they decide to just be friends after a one night stand. If only it were that fucking simple.

Soap by LevitatingMountainYak @levitatingmountainyak <33

155K Words // 19 Chapters //COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

Jinx actions have created two power vacuums, and there are factions on both sides of the river eager to seize the reins for their own reasons. The Chembarons each eye Silco's empty throne and, ignorant of the deal he struck with Jayce, see no need to play by the rules. Meanwhile powerful outsiders in Piltover find themselves in control of one of the few effective fighting forces in the city, and see a path to creating a new council more willing to grant their requests.

With forces from above and below eager to trample them the common folk of the Lanes, as well as Piltover, need someone in their corner. With the prospect of peace and equal representation slipping away our champions are going to need to band together to avert another catastrophe. But as anyone can tell you- oil and water don't mix...

Call It What You Want (Separate Ways) by IllusiveWritings, shipsnthenight @shipsnthenight <33

177K Words // ?/? Chapters //INCOMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// shipsnthenight on X

Caitlyn has it all. She's one of the most influential pop musicians in the world, critics acclaim her music, albums fly off shelves and her fans adore her.

At twenty six, she has conquered pretty much everything there was to in the music business. Now off duty and with some time for herself after a six months long overseas tour, back at home in Piltover, she decides to do something for herself.

Enter Vi, a young and skilled tattoo artist, armed with an extensive portfolio, enough charm to bewitch a brick and just enough cluelessness that takes on the job to ink Caitlyn's skin.

What could possibly go wrong?

^^^^Some art on X for this fic <33

Broken Ring by Daxtious

187K Words // ?/24 Chapters //UNCOMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// Daxtious on X

Freshly graduated from the police academy, Caitlyn Kiramman is determined to prove to her fellow officers that she is more than just a rich girl with a pretty face. After overhearing her commanding officers talking about an illegal fighting ring in the Undercity, she goes to investigate for herself with the hopes of gathering evidence to prove her worth.

What she finds is the equivalent of a nightmare, people being put inside the ring to fight each other to the death like dogs. It’s inhumane torture at the price of earning a profit and providing entertainment for a crowd. It gets even worse when she finds out one of the top fighters is someone no older than her, a pink haired girl with metal-clad fists and a sharp tongue to match, who’s fighting spirit reminds her far too much of her own.

It’s quickly discovered that something far more dangerous is brewing beyond the walls of Piltover, something that is far worse than anyone could have prepared for.

Hotshot by SarcastCity

242K Words // 50 Chapters // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// SarcastCity on X

Caitlyn's route to work as a detective at the 51st Precinct takes her right by Fire Station #516, and Vi's been pining after the gorgeous Mystery Woman for six months...what will happen when she finds out that Caitlyn's a cop (AKA: The Enemy)?

Sadly no short fic bonuses this time as the only short ones I’ve read are still incomplete! Well we’ll see next list <33

I’m going to go through and update some of the info on my other caitvi lists as some fics were not completed. If they aren’t completed I’m going to put chapter number as ?/? as they are being updated. I will put full chapter count instead of / in the future if it’s a completed story. I just don’t like how I formatted it <3 I have also removed the “hits” amount too as this fandom is ever growing and I cannot keep up with the change in hits for each individual fic rec ILYILY

[a-d-nox]

Hello, it me again. Can you do a post on how to calculating the wyrd(destny) without using the website ?

web of wyrd: manual calculation technique

the original matrix had far less orbs so we will follow in gollov's footsteps and calculate only the energies she outlined in here book. we are dealing with 22 arcanas so if it equals 23 or more it must be reduced. i will wall you through the whole thing, but this is a rule that must be kept in mind when calculating your own chart.

i have labeled the matrix with letters so you can see where and what components create an energy in your chart!

my birthdate for reference is october 27, 2000

A = the day you were born. for me that must get reduced (27 -> 2 + 7 = 9).

B = the month you were born. october is the 10th month.

C = the year you were born. 2000 is easy peasy i just drop the zeros (2000 -> 2 + 0 + 0 + 0 = 2)

D = A + B + C. for me that's 21 (9 + 10 + 2 = 21)

E = A + B + C + D. for that's 6 (9 + 10 + 2 + 21 = 42 -> 4 + 2 = 6)

F = E + D. for me that's 9 (6 + 21 = 27 -> 2 + 7 = 9)

G = F + D. for me that's 3 (9 + 21 = 30 -> 3 + 0 = 3)

H = E + C. for me that's 8 (6 + 2 = 8)

I = F + H. for me that's 17 (9 + 8 = 17)

J = F + I. for me that's 8 (9 + 17 = 26 -> 2 + 6 = 8)

K = I + H. for me that's 7 (17 + 8 = 25 -> 2 + 5 = 7)

L = H + C. for me that's 10 (8 + 2 = 10)

M = C + D. for me that's 5 (2 + 21 = 23 -> 2 + 3 = 5)

N = E + A. for me that's 15 (6 + 9 = 15)

O = A + N. for me that's 6 (9 + 15 = 24 -> 2 + 4 = 6)

P = N + E. for me that's 21 (15 + 6 = 21)

Q = A + D. for me that's 3 (9 + 21 = 30 -> 3 + 0 = 3)

R = A + B. for me that's 19 (9 + 10 = 19)

S = B + E. for me that's 16 (10 + 6 = 16)

T = B + S. for me that's 8 (10 + 16 = 26 -> 2 + 6 = 8)

U = S + E. for me that's 22 (16 + 6 = 22)

V = B + C. for me that's 12 (10 + 2 = 12)

W = B + V. for me that's 22 (10 + 12 = 22)

X = W + V. for me that's 7 (22 + 12 = 34 -> 3 + 4 = 7)

Y = W + X. for me that's 11 (22 + 7 = 29 -> 2 + 9 = 11)

Z = X + V. for me that's 19 (7 + 12 = 19)

AA = A + B. for me that's 19 (9 + 10 = 19)

AB = O + T. for me that's 14 (6 + 8 = 14)

AC = N + S. for me that's 4 (15 + 16 = 31 -> 3 + 1 = 4)

AD = P + U. for me that's 7 (21 + 22 = 43 -> 4 + 3 = 7)

AE = E + E. for me that's 12 (6 + 6 = 12)

AF = H + F. for me that's 17 (8 + 9 = 17)

AG = C + D. for me that's 5 (2 + 21 = 23 -> 2 + 3 = 5)

AH = A + O + N + P + E + H + C. for me that's 13 (9 + 6 + 15 + 21 + 6 + 8 + 2 = 67 -> 6 + 7 = 13)

AI = B + T + S + U + E + F + D. for me that's 11 (10 + 8 + 16 + 22 + 6 + 9 + 21 = 92 -> 9 + 2 = 11)

AJ = AA + AB + AC + AD + AE + AF + AG. for me that's 15 (19 + 14 + 4 + 7 + 12 + 17 + 5 = 78 -> 7 + 8 = 15)

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© a-d-nox 2025 all rights reserved

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 36/42 WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another.

PROLOGUE/1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (interlude) 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (interlude) 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 (interlude) 31 32 33 34 35

CHAPTER THIRTYSIX

                “Okay. Listen up. My boyfriend is in town. I’ve got him on the chef’s table. Now… he fucking auto-condiments. It’s a character flaw, but also it’s so very much him that I don’t think he’ll ever stop. So… don’t get your hackles up worrying about it. Or worrying about what I might think. He’s either added ketchup to everything I’ve made, or said it’s too sweet, or that his mom and grandma can make it better… I don’t think he’s actually ever paid my cooking a compliment now that I think about it.”

                His staff are all looking at him in undisguised horror and Bradley knows he’s probably exaggerating a little, because Jake has been plenty complimentary, but he also knows what he likes and isn’t ever afraid of letting Bradley know in no uncertain terms.

                “Oh, also, he doesn’t really know quite how famous I am. At least I don’t think so. We met a decade ago and he knows me as Leonardo, so he gets to call me Leo or Leon or Leonardo if he’s really pissed off.”

                Jaws lower even further toward the floor and Bradley grins at them all.

                “Yeah, I know. I’m in a good mood. My boyfriend is in town. Let’s have a good service okay?”

                “Yes chef!”

…            …            …

                “How did it go?”

                “Fuck…”

                “Again? Seriously? Bradley!” she punches him on the arm and she doesn’t hold back any strength and he flinches away. “What does he do? Suck your brain out of your dick?”

                “Uh…” he not sure whether to confirm or deny, because the weekend had been… illuminating. And amazing. And exhausting both physically and a little emotionally, just with them talking about more things which they might like to try out.

                “Ugh! It’s your funeral. Just tell him over the phone, or through Facetime. I think this is going to be a bigger deal for him than your fame and fortune.”

                “I know! Which is why I want to tell him in person!”

                “Well next time you see him I’m coming as chaperone to make sure it actually happens. You keep beating yourself up over it and it’s not good for you.”

                “I know…” Bradley says, and from the look Vi is giving him he knows it maybe isn’t contrite enough. “I’m… I do know. Sorry. I’ll try to not let it bother me, okay?”

                She snorts at that and rolls her eyes, but Bradley knows he’s forgiven when she rests her head on his shoulder as their plane takes off.

…            …            …

                Jake looks at the email attachment and pulls a face.

                It’s fine.

                This is the life he signed up for, and he’s been spoiled the last few months with being stationed at Fallon. It’s not the closest he could be to Leo, but he’s still seen him fairly regularly. It’s been really nice and he knows he’s going to miss him even more than usual. He rings in his lunch break, know Leo will be deep in the prep stage in the kitchen. He never thought he’d understand so much about how a restaurant is run, but he could listen to Leo talk about it for hours. Has listened to Leo talk about it for hours in fact.

                “Jake! He’s just stepped out front. We didn’t want to ignore the call though… how’s it going man?”

                “Uh, Kieran right?”

                “That’s me! And don’t worry, I know you’re probably on a time crunch. I’ve sent someone to fetch Bradley.”

                “Thanks. I appreciate it. And I’m going good. You know. Pretty standard…”

                “Lather, rinse and repeat right? Same here. Same shit, different day!” Kieran says, the last few words a little louder and he hears other jeers and laughter, has met most of them now and they’re Leo’s squad. He’s glad he has a good bunch of people working with him.

                “Get back to work you bunch of reprobates…” Leo says, his voice loud and clear and happy and Jake can’t help the thrill at hearing his voice. “Hey…”

                “Hey. Uh. Can you give me a couple of minutes?”

                “Of course,” Leo says, and Jake can tell from the change in sound that he’s no longer on speaker, that Leo is moving somewhere quieter. “What’s up?”

                “I got new orders. Direct to Kitsap, then Ronald Reagan for about five months.”

                “Shit.”

                “Yeah. I know you’ll get you hand on the manifest and meet me when you can. Just… I’m going to miss you.”

                “Yeah. I’m going to miss you too. So much.”

…            …            …

                It’s fine.

                Not the end of the world.

                The first few months slip past quickly enough.

                It is grating that he can’t meet Jake in Brisbane when he has leave. The entire crew are slated to take part in the Talisman Saber, which Ice has been telling him about, because he’s involved now that he’s the COMPACFLT and Bradley tries not to think about telling Jake that. He’s going to be seeing Jake when he’s got shore leave in Japan, when the Ronald Reagan berths there after it has done whatever it needs to do in the Pacific Ocean. Bradley can, and will, finally tell him all about Maverick and Ice and he can stop waking up in a cold sweat thinking about Jake being hurt and upset that he didn’t tell him. He runs his finger over the gold band on his finger, knows that the ring he bought Jake is hanging around his neck right now wherever he is and it makes him feel grounded somehow, despite their distance.

                His phone rings then and he startle a little, not expecting anyone, a little wary when he see Ice’s contact name showing. Since finding out how much it hurt’s Ice to talk Bradley has insisted on video calls where Ice can type out what he wants to say. The fact that he’s calling is… worrying.

                “Hey Ice…”

                “Bradley…”

                The scratchy rough pitch does nothing to lessen the tone of Ice’s voice has his knees shaking and he grabs for a chair and lowers himself into it. Is reminded of the time Mav told him about Ice’s cancer, but right now he has Jake somewhere in the Pacific Ocean… Don’t go borrowing trouble a little voice in his head whispers, and it’s been a while since he even remembered his mom saying that.

                “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

                “Maverick is missing.”

                He feels relief flood through him, quickly followed by guilt in equal measure, that it’s Maverick Ice is ringing him about and not Jake. Shit. Mav is Ice’s though, and while he might still be cautious around Mav he doesn’t want Ice hurting. And he doesn’t ever want Mav dead.

                “What? How?”

                “He was flying…”

                “He… Did he crash?” Bradley asks, because how is he missing if he was flying? A plane is pretty fucking thing to go missing. “Or is the plane missing as well?”

                “I…”

                “Shit. Sorry. I know you can’t talk much.”

                “Classified.”

                “Of course it fucking is… Do you think he’s alive?”

                “He’s Maverick.”

                Bradley lets out a long annoyed sigh, because that shouldn’t be an answer, or an end to a line of questioning, and yet…

                “Yeah. I guess he is.”

[muddyorbsblr]

relinquish the crown: under one condition pt1

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: Season 1, Episode 14; immediately after 'what could be done'

Summary: With Prince Damien's proposal looming over like a dark omen, Loki rushes to do what must be done to save you from a life of misery in Alfheim

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); Odin

Things to be aware of: stressed Loki hours; this is basically 'terms of surrender' (Prologue, Part 1) in Loki's POV

There were too many emotions, too many thoughts, coursing through Loki's entire system right at this moment.

Anger. Over how seemingly excited Odin sounded over the idea of finally getting to enact the bloody tradition that he'd agreed to, so that his own father, the former Allfather Bor, would approve of his marriage to Frigga. To determine his 'rightful' heir meant to have all eligible individuals engage in a battle. Where it could only end with death or surrender.

A somber acceptance, that if he were not here right at this moment, making known the decision that would change the very course of not just his life, but yours as well? Had he not just announced that he wished to relinquish his claim to the throne? If he were to engage in the barbaric tradition, then he would have to come to terms with the knowledge that that duel with his brother would be the day he met his demise. And he would leave you behind, vulnerable to any lecherous suitor that might win Odin's favor and approval for your hand.

Fear of what could and would happen had that duel come to fruition.

But overpowering them all by a wide margin…fear of what was to come next. Out of this conversation. Out of his surrender and his terms for it.

The god would leave this room with everyone in his life, including you, thinking differently of him than when he entered. They would all know, you would know, of the affection that he'd been harboring for you for well over a decade, ever since that first encounter within the palace halls where you put your dagger to his throat.

Norns, she might very well do it again after today, he thought to himself. And you would very well be in your right to after your mind completes a lecherous image and all your memories with Loki would be painted with a starkly different brush. He was quite certain that earlier today, in the library, had been the last time he would ever hear you utter the words "I love you" towards him. Now that you knew the true weight of the sentiment when it came from him.

And still he knew, with every fiber of his being, that the only right thing for him to do was to stay this course. Even if it meant shattering what relationship he had with you in the process, even if it meant you resenting him for making you his wife. For it meant that at least you would be able to resent him in the safety of your home. It meant you would be free to live your life the way you saw fit.

He could be content with this reality. And he would simply love you enough for the both of you.

"My son, I beg your pardon?" Odin spoke, visibly perturbed at the words he'd just heard the god of mischief utter, brows knitting together and the wrinkles on his forehead becoming more prominent with the action.

"There will be no need for a ceremony to determine your heir, Father," Loki repeated, speaking slower than he did when he entered the war room. He had no intentions to be misunderstood from speaking in a rush. Not in a moment as crucial as this. "Because I choose to surrender my claim to the throne. I relinquish my status as an eligible heir."

"Brother, are you certain of your decision?"

He looked at Thor from across the table, a mixture of concern and relief coloring the blond god's expression. For as long as they had known each other, Thor had always known him to be calculating and careful even when his actions seemed far from it. Even when others believed him to be impulsive. And this particular move, to an untrained eye, would seem like the rash thing to do in such a situation. To commit an irreversible action in the name of avoiding the showdown that would yield even more permanent and irreversible consequences.

And much as Loki would often jokingly refer to his brother as an 'oaf', he had his moments. This seemed well on its way to becoming one of them, with the just slightly elder god undoubtedly coming to the realization that no…Loki did not impulsively come to this decision just moments ago. He knew exactly what he was giving up and he was determined to stay this course regardless. His question of whether he was certain was simply to avoid misconstruction from any parties.

Loki simply nodded at his brother slowly, already dreading the next few moments as he would begin to be questioned of his motivations.

The Allfather spoke next. "Loki, this is not a decision to be made lightly. You cannot rescind your offer once I have accepted it. Do you understand, my son?"

He tried to picture another way to somehow liberate you from your inevitable betrothal to the wretched elven prince of Alfheim. One that didn't involve him potentially shattering your perception of him irreparably. Short of helping you outright flee the realm to escape Damien, there truly was nothing. And even if somehow you succeeded in fleeing, there was the risk of you being charged with treason for betraying or neglecting your duties to the Realm.

His mother was right. This was the only way.

"I understand perfectly, Father," he answered, taking every ounce of his strength to not allow his tone to waver or tremble as he spoke. "I will hereby relinquish my claim to the throne of Asgard." The raven-haired god clenched his fist under the table, his nail digging in to the skin of his palm as he took a deep breath before uttering the words that would seal his fate. The ones that would turn him into the lech that he'd been rumored to be for eons. "If my terms are accepted."

The next words that Thor spoke worsened at the constricting of his heart. Made even harsher with his relieved and jovial tone. "I will agree to whatever terms you state, Brother, if it means I do not have to face losing you in battle," he stated, so quickly it was as if the words were racing to come out of his mouth. "Name your terms.

You will regret your words in a few short moments, Brother. I swear it. I can only hope you can try to see from where my intentions truly lay, Loki thought to himself. It didn't take long for him to launch into the speech he prepared to present his case, bracing himself for the incoming derision. The seething judgment. The hatred.

"I wish to return our family's reign to its former glory. I've traversed the Nine Realms and the consensus is definite: They think our power weak ever since Father rose to the throne. At least those generations that had been around to witness its former glory for themselves. The people not only feared us, but they respected us." He turned to face Odin, a mixture of concern and displeasure evident in the elder god's eye. "Now they question your leadership since you were so willing to break an age old practice. They question my claim as legitimate due to my Jotun blood. I wish to dispel any qualms about future generations."

"Loki," his father spoke, caution rife in his voice. As if he were warning him to choose his next words very carefully. "What are you implying?"

Is it not obvious, Father? All these centuries of believing me capable of such mischief and depravity and you choose this moment to feign ignorance? To strive to see me as anything more than the title you thrust upon me? he thought to himself sardonically. Very well then, if you must insist on keeping to this facade, then you've left me with no other choice than to lean in. Become the depraved lech you allowed the Realms to believe that I am.

"Surely you do not mean to say that--"

"Y/N," he cut his father off, digging his nail further into the palm of his hand as he darted a glance at his brother and saw the utter  heartbreak and betrayal in his expression. Keep going, the rational, calculating voice in his head urged him. They may all despise you at the end of this, but remember what you are doing this for. Remember who you are doing this for. For her. For your fated. Keep her safe. No matter the cost. "Wed her to me, so that we may restore our family's reign's integrity and show the people that we know when to break, and when to keep, tradition. That we have the wisdom to do so."

"Brother there was a reason for that tradition to be abolished. So that Father and future generations may choose who to wed out of love." Thor's response tore at him further, forcing the god to fight back tears as he held on tight to the secret that he'd held for years. Wanting nothing more than to hold back the very words he swore to himself he would never utter aloud in the presence of anyone.

"Isn't that exactly what I'm doing?" He couldn't look at anyone in the eye. So he chose to instead look past them, focusing on the wall to keep his expression as invariable as he could manage. "I am choosing who to wed…out of love?" He took another breath, now looking his brother straight in the eye and feeling his heart sink at the blazing rage he saw in the now icy blue orbs, his fists laid on the table as his entire body shook from processing the words. "You said to name my terms. That no price is too steep," Loki kept on, holding on to hope that somehow this plan of his and his mother's would succeed and at the very least burning this bridge would not have been for nothing.

If this is the price for your safety, little Princess, then it is a price I will readily pay.

"I will relinquish my claim to ascend Father's throne after he passes, in exchange for Y/N as my wife," he finished, praying to the Norns that he would hear anything other than a resounding 'no' from either god.

"So that you may ascend the throne with her and become King when I die?" Thor fumed, visibly looking as if it took all his strength not to lunge across the table and strangle his brother with his bare hands.

You both would wish it could be this simple, wouldn't you? Loki mulled over silently. Somberly. If only it were.

"I will not be King," he declared, more than ready to put his words into writing if need be. "I will be her consort. She will rule when you pass, unchallenged and with my unconditional support. As her husband."

Thor took a moment to carefully look at his brother's features and right then there was a glimmer of an epiphany in his rageful eyes. Finally you see it, Brother. I would not have jeopardized my life and my relationship with all of you so flippantly. This is not for power or cowardice or lust. This is just as I have said in its purest form. This is relinquishment. This is surrender. This is sacrifice.

"I did not want to lose you in battle, Brother. And I still do not wish to." Loki could finally breathe a touch easier knowing that, at least for now, his brother still wished to see him live. "But Y/N will not understand any of this. That this was once our ancestry's tradition."

He felt a soft smile gracing his face, his mind wandering to fonder memories with you as he said his next words. "She's more brilliant than you give her credit for, dear Brother." It truly took him by surprise that he'd been allowed to present his case for this long, and he cautiously took that as a sign that perhaps this plan truly could work. That his claim to the throne was enough to trade for your hand. In the name of your safety. One last push. Just to finish your case, he told himself. "She's quite intelligent. I can guarantee you that our children will be a beautiful mix of your strength, Sif's ferocity, and our combined wits and wisdom. You've said it many times before: No man will ever be good enough for her, and you've also said that I am the best man you know in all the Nine Realms, I--" His breath caught as he uttered his next confession. "I am not good enough for Y/N, on that we can both agree. But wouldn't you also agree that among all the men in the Realms, I'll come closest?"

The next few moments had Loki's heart thundering in his chest. First Odin gave Thor a single nod, as if telling him that ultimately this decision was to now fall in the thunder god's hands. He would defer the decision to your father. And then he saw the thoughts beginning to form in his brother's mind.

How he knew in his heart that your current suitor would have no qualms or concern about your happiness, and would most likely tear you away from the Realm to isolate you from those that loved you most. How Prince Damien would swear no form of fealty or fidelity to you and how this courtship was simply a play for the power that many coveted across the Realms.

And how despite the way it churned his stomach, the thought of being the one to sign away your privilege to marry for love, at least he would do it knowing that it would be to betroth you to someone that had historically cared for you when you yourself would forget to. Someone that came close to bridling your recklessness when he chose not to match it. Someone that did his best to cater to your needs.

Someone that would move the Realms themselves if that was what she asked of me, he swore to himself.

Finally he heard it. His brother's sigh as he weighed the options and made the decision that would set into motion the shattering of your relationship with not just him, but with quite possibly every person in this room.

"Fetch Lady Y/N," he told the guard. "Fetch my daughter."

A/N: Well I can't believe it…we're finally here. I finally got this series to get back to where it started…at Loki's surrender. I decided to split this into two parts since the chapter as a whole was nearly 6k words long, so the other half of 'under one condition' will be coming this weekend 🎉🎉

On the writing block at the moment is a chapter from 'one look and they'll know', so there's also that to look forward to, and then after that (hopefully) I'm finally starting 'back to you' after idek how long I've been teasing that one.

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokidokieokie

@superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 3.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6 | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,2K

tag: #what was that

summary: Renly returns to work only to throw herself into her project. Viktor is happy to have her back, but will keep it to himself at all cost! Also - bullshit science and some backstory.

author’s note: Beta reader: @rennethen

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Renly quickly forgot about that cat idea when it dawned on her how right Jayce had been. Indeed she began spending more and more time at the lab, only visiting her campus apartment when she needed to do laundry. They all worked relentlessly, whether on their own projects or collaborating on shared ones. Additionally, Renly assisted Heimerdinger’s classes and periodically tutored the younger students. She and Jayce looked a bit scruffier than usual with the beautiful Mel Medarda out of town for a few weeks and for Renly, well… there was no reason to look better than bare minimum.

Viktor was the only one to maintain his routine, always presentable, even when the dark circles under his eyes betrayed how many hours he had spent adjusting hextech blueprints. He was also the only one getting annoyed by the perpetual mess left around by the other two—scrap paper, spare clothes, dirty dishes, and his beloved coffee pot, always empty, never cleaned. They had a few disagreements about it—Renly had tried to explain the concept of hyperfocus, which couldn’t be interrupted under any circumstances, while Jayce always apologized and made fresh coffee instead.

She was desperate for a breakthrough, which felt as though it was slipping through her fingers. And even though her work wasn’t as glamorous and grand as hextech, it was so vitally important to her. She remembered herself as a child, her brother’s death from Grey, toxic waste exposure, and how she hadn’t understood then that it was irreversible. To this day, she refused to accept that nothing could have been done. In his memory, she had already decided to call the medicine ‘Angus.’

She stared at the flickering light above her workstation, the bubbling of chemicals the only sound breaking the silence. The logical thing would be to go home, sleep, get a fresh perspective. And maybe try a little bit harder to forget about John. But the desperation, the ache of disappointment—and the sting of humiliation—made her restless.

Renly rubbed her temple, her fingers trailing over the faint tension lines that had deepened over the past week. Every formula she scribbled felt like a dead end, every hypothesis mocked her with its glaring flaws. She glanced at the collection of vials on her workstation—half of them untested, the other half failures. Somewhere in the cacophony of bubbles and scattered papers, a small voice whispered that maybe this wasn’t her fight to win. But that voice only made her clench her jaw harder.

Her gaze flicked to a photo tucked into the corner of her workstation. A boy with bright eyes and a mischievous grin. “I’m trying, Angus,” she murmured, the name catching in her throat. The ache of guilt and frustration mixed into a cocktail that burned her chest. She shut her notebook and went back to staring at the flickering light above. The lab felt suffocating and empty all at once.

The silence pressed in on her like a lead weight. She wanted to scream, to shatter the stillness, but all that came out was a shallow sigh. She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. Maybe she should go home, sleep, and come back with a fresh perspective. But what if tomorrow was no different than today?

Viktor appeared in the doorway, his cane tapping softly against the floor. He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. “You do realize that exhaustion is not a substitute for productivity, yes?”

Renly snorted, not bothering to look up. “You sound like Heimerdinger.”

“That is not a compliment,” Viktor muttered, though his lips twitched into a faint smile. He leaned against the nearest counter, watching her work. “You should go home.”

“And you… should mind your own business,” she shot back, but her tone lacked venom.

“Fair enough,” Viktor said, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he stayed, quietly observing, until Renly finally put down her tools with a sigh. “Why are you still here?” she asked.

Viktor tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps I am... curious.”

Viktor’s fingers brushed over the edge of the counter, tracing absent patterns against the cold metal. He hesitated, his cane shifting slightly in his hand, as though debating whether to leave or stay. The flicker of the workstation light caught in his gaze, casting shadows that softened his usual sharpness. He looked at her with an intensity that made the silence feel heavy—not the silence of a quiet lab, but something deeper, laden with unspoken words.

“I’ve noticed,” he began, his voice quieter now, “that the lab feels... different when you are not here.” He straightened slightly, as if realizing how much he’d said. “It is likely just the absence of your noise. You are rather loud for someone so small.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a faint smirk, but his eyes stayed locked on her, waiting for her response.

Renly blinked, caught off guard by his admission. The way he said it—measured, deliberate—made her chest tighten with something uncomfortably close to hope. She tried to deflect. “And what is it that you are so curious about, exactly? My tendency to break things under pressure or my... unique approach to teamwork?”

Viktor’s lips curved upward slightly. “Teamwork, you say? Is this your way of bringing up your impeccable massage skills again?”

Renly flushed, pointing a pen at him like a weapon. “If you don’t want me reminding you, stop bringing it up first.”

“You were the one who dragged it back into the light of the Bunsen burner,” Viktor countered smoothly. His voice was calm, but there was an edge of amusement that made her want to sink into her chair.

“Well, I—” she stammered, but the words refused to come out. Her face burned as Viktor tilted his head, his smirk widening ever so slightly. “Forget I said anything,” she muttered, turning her attention back to the workstation.

“As you wish,” Viktor said softly, his tone maddeningly neutral. But the glint in his eye betrayed him, and Renly could practically hear the laugh he held back.

“I might, perhaps, be curious about both.” Viktor shifted his weight onto his cane and regarded her for a moment longer than necessary, his sharp eyes assessing, as though dissecting her every feature and reaction. He was endlessly relieved that she came back. Though slightly concerned about her current state not improving.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m an open book,” she said lightly, bringing him back to the conversation. But there was a tension to her voice, a nervous energy she couldn’t quite mask.

“I have always been more interested in… difficult books,” he murmured, his tone softer now. “The ones that require careful study.”

Renly’s breath caught. It was subtle, easily missed, but there was something in his voice—a challenge, or maybe an invitation. She tried to steady herself. “Careful, Viktor. You’re starting to sound like Jayce when he’s trying to charm his way out of trouble.”

“That is a dangerous comparison,” Viktor replied, his tone drier now, though his gaze hadn’t wavered. “I would like to believe I am more… subtle.”

Renly laughed; the sound lighter than she expected. “Subtle, huh? I’ll give you that. But you should know—” she stepped closer, lowering her voice to match his, “—I’m not the kind of book you can study in one sitting.”

Viktor’s brow arched ever so slightly, a flicker of intrigue passing through his features. “I would not expect otherwise.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them shifted—something unspoken, tentative, and charged with the weight of possibility.

Renly felt her heart skip a beat, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and broke the eye contact, her gaze drifting to the nearby workbench littered with diagrams and half-finished experiments. “Well, if you’re looking for something more straightforward, Viktor, I think Jayce keeps plenty of picture books in his little office,” she quipped, trying to recapture her footing.

Viktor made a low sound, something between a laugh and a hum of amusement. “Jayce prefers works with… fewer complexities. I find myself drawn to challenges.” She realized that Viktor’s thick accent made a certain spot in her brain tingle.

Renly looked back at him then, catching the faintest flicker of something warm in his expression—interest, maybe, or amusement, or something she didn’t dare name. “Well, I hope you’re ready for disappointment,” she said, half-joking but wary of what his words might mean. “I’ve been told I’m more confusing than challenging.”

“That remains to be seen.” Viktor turned away, his focus drifting to one of the diagrams pinned to the wall. It was a complex sketch of a device she’d been working on for weeks, each line and symbol carefully detailed. It was supposed to make the delivery of her future cure possible on a larger scale and cleanse an entire district at once. As she was pointed out by Jayce – in the wrong hands that could be a deadly weapon. It was quite ironic, coming from his mouth.

Viktor reached out, his gloved fingers brushing the edge of the paper. “This… is yours?”

Renly nodded, thankful for the shift in focus. “Yeah. It’s still in the early stages, though. Just an idea, really.”

His eyes traced the lines, his expression unreadable. “It is… bold. Ambitious.”

“Ambitious is one word for it,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Jayce called it reckless.”

“Jayce is often blind to subtlety,” Viktor replied, his tone mild but carrying the weight of experience. “This—” he gestured to the design, “—is not reckless. It is innovative. You see possibilities where others see only obstacles.”

Renly blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. “Well, don’t tell Jayce that. I’d hate for him to think I’m smarter than him.”

Viktor’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Viktor’s gaze lingered on the diagram, but Renly had the distinct feeling his thoughts were elsewhere. She wanted to say something—anything—to fill the silence, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Renly,” Viktor said suddenly, his voice softer now. He turned to face her fully, his expression more serious than she expected. “About… earlier. John. You should not allow someone to make you doubt your worth.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt the burn of tears threatening to return. “I… I know,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” he said simply, his tone firm but not unkind. “Because there is no doubt, at least in my mind, that you are capable of far more than he could ever see.”

Renly didn’t know what to say. Instead, she managed a small, trembling smile, her chest tightening with something that felt dangerously like gratitude—or something more.

***

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jayce’s voice pulled Renly out of the trance she had fallen into while staring at the blackboard covered in her notes.

“Um… are you kidding? My thoughts are priceless.” She grinned at him, and he laughed.

“Well, of course, I never meant to pry on your genius,” he added but saw her cheekiness was already gone, replaced with exasperation.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it without a sample.” She slumped down in her chair and added, “And I doubt that anyone from the docks would give me one willingly, even though I’m technically a local there.”

“And what do you need exactly?”

“Ah, bone marrow preferably,” she said with ease, but when she saw the horror on Jayce’s face, she immediately added, “But that’s obviously out of the question—it’s dangerous and painful." signalling him to calm down. "So, the blood sample, maybe saliva, and any… umm, excretion fluids from, like, blisters or boils,” she continued, no longer paying attention to Jayce, whose face grew more repulsed by the second. "Oh, and obviously,”—at this point, her friend was silently praying for her to finish—"it has to come from someone with Grey exposure symptoms."

Jayce, having shaken his distaste, gave her an obvious look. “Well, that shouldn’t be so hard then. I mean, the boils and… fluids might be impossible, but the blood and saliva?”

“Care to elaborate on what’s so easy about it?”

"The fact that you exist alongside someone like that every day, who also happens to be a scientist—and who would probably sacrifice far more than a blood sample in the name of progress?" And in the name of making you happy, he thought, though he kept the sentiment to himself.

She slapped her forehead with an open palm. She had been so caught up in her own frustrations and doubts that she hadn’t even considered Viktor an option—a glaring oversight she now felt foolish for.

“Gods, how am I so stupid? I take everything back; you are smarter than I.” Before Jayce could express his confusion about that last remark she added, her mind racing „But wait… do you really think Viktor will agree to this?”

“Definitely. Maybe just don’t say anything about the… fluids.”

***

She can do this. It’s fine, it’s science and all. It took her a few days to collect herself enough to actually ask Viktor for this favour. She made sure to tidy up her notes in case Viktor asked for any further explanation.

Renly lingered in the doorway of the lab, her heart racing slightly. Viktor sat at his workstation, engrossed in whatever mechanism he was fine-tuning. The rhythmic tap of his cane against the floor punctuated his movements as he adjusted screws with steady precision. She hesitated, unsure how to approach the topic.

“Viktor,” she began, her voice cutting through the low hum of machinery.

“Renly,” he replied without looking up, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest of smiles. “To what do I owe the honour? Or are you here to borrow more coffee filters?”

She stepped further in, shifting her weight nervously. “Actually, I was hoping to borrow something a bit more... personal.”

That got his attention. He looked up, raising an eyebrow as his hands stilled. “Personal?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath, mentally rehearsing the phrasing she’d agonized over. “I need a blood sample.”

His expression didn’t change immediately. He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Are you planning to sell it at The Lanes, or is there a scientific reason for this peculiar request?”

She laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “Scientific. Definitely scientific.”

He set down his tools and leaned back in his chair, gesturing for her to elaborate.

“Okay, so… I’ve been working on this formula to counteract the effects of long-term exposure to the Grey. But I’ve hit a wall because I need a sample from someone with exposure symptoms. And, well...” She trailed off, motioning vaguely toward him.

“Ah,” he said simply, his gaze narrowing slightly in thought.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” she continued quickly, her words tumbling out. “And I totally understand if you’re not comfortable with it. I just—”

“Renly,” he interrupted, his voice calm. “It is fine.”

She blinked. “It is?”

“Yes,” he said, rising slowly to his feet and reaching for his cane. “You are not asking me to donate a kidney. A blood sample is... manageable.” His lips curved into a faint smile as he added, “I only hope you have the proper equipment. I doubt either of us wants Jayce involved in this.”

“Right, of course,” she said, fumbling with the small kit she’d prepared in advance. “I can handle it. Promise.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow as he sat on a nearby stool, rolling up his sleeve. “That remains to be seen.”

Renly approached cautiously, trying to suppress the sudden wave of nerves washing over her. “Okay, uh, just relax your arm.”

He gave her a pointed look. “I am relaxed. Are you?”

“Totally,” she lied, though her hands betrayed her as they fumbled with the stasis band. She moved closer to him, taking his arm gently and rolling up his sleeve.

“You are trembling,” he remarked lightly.

“I’m not trembling,” she shot back, but the slight shake of her hand betrayed her again.

“Perhaps I should do it myself,” he offered, half-teasing.

“Don’t you dare,” she muttered, steeling herself.

Viktor’s forearm was lean but surprisingly solid beneath her touch, his skin pale against the dark fabric of his shirt. Her fingers brushed against his wrist as she adjusted the band, and she felt the slightest hitch in his breath—so slight she wondered if she imagined it.

She avoided his gaze, focusing instead on securing the stasis snugly just above his elbow. “Tell me if it’s too tight,” she murmured.

“It is fine,” he replied, his voice quieter now, almost curious.

Renly pressed her thumb into the crease of his elbow, coaxing the vein to rise. She could feel his eyes on her, and the proximity made the air between them feel heavier. Viktor was always so composed, but now his stillness seemed heightened, as if he were studying her in the same way he might study an equation.

“Do you always take this much care?” he asked, his tone light but carrying an edge of something unreadable.

She glanced up, catching his gaze for just a moment before looking away. “I like to make sure I get it right,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“You are very thorough,” he said, and though his words were neutral, there was a warmth in them that made her cheeks flush.

Her thumb brushed over his skin one last time before she picked up the needle. “All set,” she said briskly, trying to steady herself. “This won’t take long.”

“There,” she said triumphantly, as the blood began to flow into the vial. “See? Professional.”

“Impressive,” Viktor said, though his tone carried a trace of mockery. “If you ever tire of chemistry, you may have a future in phlebotomy.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Once she’d sealed the vial and carefully labelled it, she turned back to him. “All done. You survived.”

“Barely,” he said dryly, rolling his sleeve back down.

Renly hesitated for a moment, holding the vial. “Thank you, Viktor. This really means a lot.”

He nodded, brushing down his sleeve as she carefully packed the sample into a sterile container. “I hope it proves useful,” he said simply, his tone neutral but distant, as though he was already retreating back into his usual reserve.

Renly stilled, the words forming on her lips before she could stop them. She pressed them back, fiddling with the clasp of her sample kit. But the thought wouldn’t leave her, and she knew this might be her only opportunity to ask.

“Viktor,” she began cautiously, her voice quieter now, unsure. “I, uh—this might sound awful, but… if you—” She faltered, her nerves getting the better of her.

He turned to her fully, his brow creasing in concern. “If I…?”

She let out a shaky breath, her eyes darting anywhere but at him. “If you ever… you know, cough up anything… I mean, if it happens, not that I hope it happens, but…” She groaned, clapping a hand to her forehead. “Gods, I’m making this sound terrible.” She just remembered what Jayce had said about her mentioning additional fluids.

His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture stiffened. “You mean to ask,” he said slowly, carefully, “if I would be willing to provide a sample of my… condition.”

Renly winced, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter behind her. “I’m sorry, I just— I know it’s not my place to even ask. It’s just, if it does happen, it could be invaluable for the research.” She looked up at him finally, guilt written across her face. “But I really, really hope it doesn’t come to that.”

For a moment, Viktor said nothing. His eyes studied her, not with anger but with a weight that made her chest tighten. “You have been aware of it,” he said softly, his voice devoid of accusation.

She swallowed hard, unsure how to answer. “I notice things,” she admitted, almost in a whisper. “But it’s not my business, and I’ve never—”

“You do not need to explain,” he interrupted gently, sparing her the rest. He turned, leaning his weight onto his cane. “If it comes to that, Renly, you may have what you need. But I will hope, as you do, that it will not.”

There was no bitterness in his tone, only quiet acceptance. It made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t expected, and she opened her mouth to say something but the only thought that came to her mind was another blunt and awkward comment.

“Look, I can only imagine how hard it is… I want you to know that this is not what I think of when I think, well… of you.” She desperately tried to convince him that she herself not a long time ago had completely overlooked his condition.

Viktor, as he would be, was not convinced. “For what it is worth, I appreciate your honesty. You do not have to back out of it now.”

She blinked, taken off guard. “What do you mean?” Renly asked, her brow furrowed, unsure of where his comment had come from.

Viktor gave a soft, humourless chuckle, leaning slightly on his cane as if drawing strength from it. “The first time we met,” he began, his tone measured, “you stared. Not at me—at this.” He gestured briefly to his cane. “I am no stranger to it. People have a tendency to look at this first, and then decide what sort of man I am. I had assumed you were no different.”

Renly’s lips parted, silent realisation of his initial coldness washing over her. “Wait—first time we met? You mean the day this horrible goo blew up into my face?”

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as if to remind her not to play coy. “You paused when I approached. You stared. Perhaps you thought I didn’t notice.”

Renly blinked again, completely thrown off course. Of all the things she thought he might say, this wasn’t it. She let out a short laugh, her voice incredulous. “That’s what you think I was staring at?”

Viktor raised a brow, his expression a mix of curiosity and scepticism. “Were you not?”

“No!” Renly shook her head vehemently, her cheeks flushing. “Gods, no. I was staring because I thought I recognized you.”

He frowned slightly, confusion flickering across his face. “Recognized me?”

“Yes!” She stepped closer, her hands moving animatedly now as the words began tumbling out. “I wasn’t sure at first, but the way you walked, the shape of your face—it all clicked. I was trying to figure out if you were… well, you.”

Viktor still looked puzzled, though his expression softened. “You’ll forgive me, but I am not sure I follow.”

Renly hesitated, suddenly feeling ridiculous, but there was no turning back now. “When we were kids, I used to play by The Undercity docks every summer. One year, there was this boy—I think it was you—who wandered off into this dark, abandoned cave. Everyone thought he’d gone for good. But hours later, you came back, like it was nothing.”

Viktor’s brows knit together as she spoke, his grip tightening slightly on his cane. “You remember that?”

She nodded fervently. “Of course, I do! It scared the life out of me. I thought you were some kind of magician when you walked out.”

He was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he let out a low, disbelieving laugh. “You mean to tell me you remembered something so… trivial, and that is why you stared?”

“It wasn’t trivial!” Renly protested; her face still flushed. “You disappeared into a death trap! Which was rumoured to have an evil wizard within it as well! I was terrified for you. And then you just climbed out like you’d been on a stroll through a garden. Who does that?”

Viktor’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, though his eyes were distant, as if piecing together fragments of a memory long buried. “I suppose I never thought anyone would remember such a thing. Least of all you.”

Renly smiled sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, now you know. And for the record, I wasn’t staring at your cane that day. I was trying to figure out if the brave, reckless boy from The Undercity had somehow made it all the way here.”

Viktor tilted his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “And have you decided?”

Her grin softened, her gaze meeting his. “Oh, I decided the moment you opened your mouth to tell me I’d miscalculated the viscosity of my formula. Only the boy who walked out of that cave would have the gall.”

His quiet laugh filled the space between them, and for a moment, the weight of their earlier conversation seemed to lift. But the memory lingered in both of their minds—one that now felt like a thread tying them together, fragile yet strong.

[deckosbades]

Preparation: I have a bag of lays potato chips, a (which I will eat later, potentially after both films), I am also brewing tea and I have my water filter in my fridge. I have seen Babe Pig in the City, or maybe the original Babe(1995) at least partially on television, and am familiar with the oft referenced phrase "that'll do pig that'll do".

I am currently recovering from a bout of pneumonia, and am taking a break from gaming because my controller doesn't quite work right. If this film makes fun of neurotic gamers of sickly Victorian chimney sweeps I will be upset.

The first streaming website I tried had the worst bitrate I've ever experienced so I had to swap only two minutes into the film.

4:01 Did the farmer just fucking die??? 4:18 Okay he didn't die, he's just terribly injured 4:46 That's a gnarly hand injury 5:02 I am the singing rodents 5:58 I hate these white dudes. For now I'm gonna just stop writing my thoughts and experience Babe Pig in the City (I definitely lied when I said this and started writing notes again) 9:36 Word spread fast to all the sheep. They must be big gossips 11:55 Decent amount of flight safety for a pre-9/11 film 13:00 Can't trust cops, even when they're dogs 16:30 Love the pig man and the singing rodents 18:55 This woman is lovely 20:47 California has lovely architecture 23:44 Racist orangutan? 25:59 Video player begins buffering indefinitely, have to swap again 26:10 I was worried for the little rats. I'm glad they're okay. 26:40 Those cops just got cooked. 27:10 Cooked twice 28:04 This is just like Ranma 1/2 36:19 Average American gun club 39:01 Open Sesabob 42:20 The amount of action in this movie is thrilling. I didn't realize how hardcore Babe was 43:26 The dog actor is so happy. Just look at his tail 44:31 For some reason I didn't think pigs could swim 45:07 Holy shit That's brutal 45:27 Babe knows right from wrong 🥲 50:07 streaming sites just aren't what they used to be 😔 I'm feeling almost biblical imagery from this scene. Pig is the saviour figure 51:33 What a polite fish. He still feels the beauty of kindness as well 56:14 Goth pig is some drip The other pigs are here 😒 1:01:08 Was the first Babe movie this sad by the two thirds mark? I am deeply saddened right now. 1:01:54 He's got a fucking gun holy shit 1:02:40 Ableist pound 1:05:27 Name drop 1:05:52 Babe really is a saint-like figure Or perhaps a moses figure 1:08:14 These pig men are consistently wonderful people 1:09:44 Thelonius has experience the original sin. 1:11:45 What a sad day it is when internet streaming sites aren't reliable. My anime streams are much more consistent. If I had my VPN or I wasn't on college internet I would have just torrented it :( 1:12:00 I hate nimbies 1:16:07 I have finished my potato chips 1:20:51 Just give her the damn pig 1:21:55 He is dedicated to protecting the champagne 1:23:00 I love this film. Thank the pig 1:24:08 The struggle is never ending 1:27:00 He said it :)

Preparation: I have finished my lays. I am going to start Poor Things (2023). I know nothing about this movie. I also have a bottle of water prepared.

Not sure what connection there is between these films. I will have to watch and see

1:13 Quilted introduction images 3:48 Is that Willem Dafoe? 4:19 Many weird things happening. Piano playing with feet on the keys, odd vocalizations and bubble creation. No English spoken so far. Chimera animals, and fisheye lenses. I do not believe that is Willem Dafoe It is Willem Dafoe I checked 10:18 So far a deeply uncomfortable film in comparison to Babe Pig in the City 11:30 I would describe the cameras and imagery as almost myopic. 15:58 This feels like a Greek tragedy 16:33 Willem Dafoe was definitely the right casting choice 18:42 Again a deeply upsetting film. A challenging work of art for certain. 22:21 The film is interested in theatre imagery. I think Babe is similar in a way 23:21 God that looks disturbing 27:30 This is definitely one of the films 29:15 I would not describe what is happening as a positive romantic relationship 32:47 The combination of 20th century value adherence and 21st century value avoidance is what adds to how uncomfortable the film is. 35:21 I fear she might kill him 35:34 This film also seems interested in heights. 36:59 Oh goodie, cutting up brains 38:49 She seems to have a powerful understanding of herself and her surroundings but not of other people or societal norms. 41:08 Oh gosh, the first color shot in the entire film. Did they teach her what contraceptives are? 41:55 Oysters always struck me as an erotic food for some reason. 45:05 I did not realize how much scifi was present 46:01 As the film and her understanding of reality expands it feels like the framing and the cinematography does too? Like the audience is experiencing the film from her POV right now. 47:40 Reality is both beautiful and upsetting 50:30 Bella's so real But also Again, this film can be described as myopic. Everyone is so focused on one detail or themselves. 53:47 First character to recognize Bella, her real name is Victoria Blessington 54:42 The music is once more deeply unsettling She is again dancing childishly but it's so macabre 56:48 Films like this make me very anxious, I must keep watching. 58:17 Very surprised he has not yet brought her bag to Godwin 58:56 He told her not to fall in love with him, and she was really good at that I think. 1:00:26 This film is deeply interested with fucked up family relations. 1:01:27 You could not have paid me to get into that chest 1:04:05 Feels like a theater set again, but that seems completely intentional. 1:05:15 Just remembered that she is developmentally a child and she is currently drinking a lot of alcohol 1:08:05 "Polite society will destroy you" you said that first Duncan 1:09:20 You broke the man's heart Bella 1:10:04 They found another????? 1:10:19 She has found transcendentalism it's over 1:10:50 "It is indicative in me and it is definitely indicative in all" she is so real 1:11:25 I love the way she creates similes 1:13:57 No shot what the fuck 1:15:55 A slow exploration of so many human ideas. Birth and death, love and sex, and kindness and cruelty. 1:17:35 Showing a child impoverished dying children. 👍 1:23:00 Interesting seeing her handwriting is still childish, but her art is beautiful. It was shown in a previous shot. 1:26:26 I don't know how to put my feelings about this film into words consistently anymore 1:27:55 No music, just ambient creeking. Incredibly uncomfortable once more. 1:36:56 A very catholic idea 1:38:15 Good joke. I am happy with how much French I remember from middle school. 1:41:15 Freud would be having a field day 1:41:58 "c'est vrai" -> that's true 1:42:20 He's still here? 1:43:18 She has the craziest insults 1:43:45 I was starting to believe they would not come back to these two. 1:47:15 This movie utilizes its soundtrack so well 1:48:26 Big decision to provide no subtitles. Middle school French once more paying off. 1:51:58 Crazy visuals. Lowkey reminds me of filmcow 1:54:15 I am compelled to be intrigued 1:58:33 Once more, Freud would be incredibly proud 2:01:13 I am enraptured 2:04:17 Holy shit 2:15:40 They put a goat in him holy shit

Final thoughts overall: Reviewing my notes I see some similarities. First I'd like to say that IMDB was wrong when it rated Babe Pig in the City a 5.8/10. It was good, and I liked watching it. First thing I think is interesting about Babe is how biblical all the imagery felt. I described Babe as a Christ like figure, but that's not accurate I think. Definitely feels biblical though. Like Babe demands religious iconography. Babe is purity and innocence and kindness. I also liked Babe's voice a lot. All the animal actors did great jobs also.

In comparison Poor Things felt biblical and also didn't. It couldn't have been an accident that Bella refers to Godwin only as God. He is definitely playing god, but it didn't feel like a religious genesis story in the same way. It felt more like religious transgression. I wrote down around the 16 minute mark that Poor Things felt like a Greek tragedy, and I still feel that way after completing it. Maybe not a Greek tragedy, but if you transplanted some of the ideas in Poor Things into Greek mythology I wouldn't bat an eye. For both I don't actually know how much of that is vibes, and even how much of it was intentional.

In terms of characters, I think both Babe and Bella are interesting characters because of how innocent they are. And how they cause a lot of trouble in a lot of situations with good intentions. Bella definitely scared me a little bit more (I thought she would kill someone, and I was surprised that more characters didn't die in Poor Things honestly speaking). Babe also plays a little bit with that sense of discomfort. When Thelonius talks about how Babe is a pig meant for human consumption, and then Uncle Fugly kidnaps him, I was more than a little bit worried about Babe! Poor pig! I was also surprised that they outright killed uncle Fugly. In a way Babe was a little bit more brutal than Poor Things. I think you were right to say that Babe had one of the most brutal animal drowning scenes.

In terms of plot structure, a lot happens in both films. Babe goes form farm animal, to entertainer, to heist distraction, to Christ figure, and that's only a little bit past the halfway mark. Bella similarly accomplishes a lot even by the halfway mark. I do see parallels for the events, where they are on some level both fish out of water stories, and I am constantly left worrying about Babe and about Bella because they don't always understand the consequences of their actions or their circumstances. Thelonius is similar to Willem Dafoe. Both are good films that on different levels left me compelled and a little bit confused.

okay i know i got some followers out there who have nothing better to do. Can you watch babe pig in the city and then follow it up immediately after with poor things and get back to me on your findings