#i know i try to keep in positive and funny here

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓋𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 ౨ৎ

suo hayato x reader. 1.3k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ hurt comfort ﾉ mentions of alcohol ﾉ mentions of cheating (neither suo nor reader)

it’s not often that suo finds him out this late, especially on a night when snow is falling from the sky like someone sifting powdered sugar. though, he was unable to make a worthy excuse to get out of a gathering with his former classmates—forced to drink and converse until everyone decided to take their leave. compared to his companions, suo only nursed a couple of drinks throughout the duration of their get-together, however, the effects of what little alcohol he had linger—an almost pleasant lightness in his head and a rosy flush to his cheeks.

he’s sure that last part could also be attributed to the cold—all the more reason to get home quickly. snowflakes have already started to land on top of his head, melting away in the chocolatey strands, but the walk to his place is enough to warrant pulling out his umbrella. suo does just that and begins on his trek. 

the streets aren’t entirely empty—much less bustling than during the day but those who partake in the city’s nightlife keep them somewhat lively. the crowds thin out as he makes his way further from the bars. there’s a certain serenity that comes with the near-solitude but the peaceful moment is short-lived when suo takes notice of the lone figure crouched on the sidewalk.

the cold is beginning to bite at your skin and the snow slowly piling up around you is only making it worse. you almost regret choosing here of all places to stop and have your breakdown but something told you that people wouldn’t take a sobbing stranger wandering the streets too well—not that your current position is much better. the truth of the matter is, you were never going to make it home before the dam of tears broke.

unfortunately, crying in public tends to draw attention, no matter how hard you try to curl yourself into an invisible ball. footsteps padded by freshly powdered snow alert you of someone’s presence. a pair of feet step to stand in front of you and with their appearance, the snow that was falling atop your head and over your shoulders ceases. you fight back the urge to scoff—does this guy really have the audacity to try and be kind after what he pulled back there?

you lift your head, just enough so that your mouth isn’t tucked in your crossed arms. “leave me alone, asshole.”

“forgive me, i’m a bit tipsy.” the voice above you makes you stiffen. it’s not the one you were expecting to hear. “am i the asshole you’re referring to?”

despite the embarrassment looming over you—both at having been caught crying and at your uncalled-for vulgar language—you press yourself to look up. the sight you’re met with is confirmation that you lashed out at the wrong person.

it’s funny—even though you just called him a name (a very unkind one, at that), the man is smiling.

“no, i’m sorry.” you bow your head in apology before meeting his eye once more. “i thought you were someone else.”

“that’s a relief.” he laughs lightly, a cloud of cold air pushing past his lips with the pleasant sound. you don’t know the man, you’ve barely had a conversation with him, but his laugh ever-so-slightly lightens the heart weighing heavily in your chest.

under the shade of his umbrella that blocks the light emanating from the street lamps, it’s difficult for suo to get a good look at you. though, even with the dimness, all it takes is the squint of his eye for the man to tell you’ve been crying. the dried streaks of tears, the glistening of your eyes, the subtle wobble of your lip—signs that, even in his tipsy state, don’t go unnoticed by him. “is something the matter?”

“nothing that’s worth talking about…” not with a stranger, at least. or maybe that’s all the more reason to spill your guts about your no-good, cheating soon-to-be ex. the thought is tempting but you shake your head. you’re sure that if you started recounting the events that led up to this moment, you’d start bawling again. and as far as you’re concerned, you’ve embarrassed yourself enough.

suo hums, choosing not to push you to talk when you would rather not. however, he can’t bring himself to walk away and leave you by yourself. it’s dark and cold and there are people a lot drunker than him who may run into you who don’t have the restraint to back off. “you should probably head home.”

suo spares a quick glance at his watch. it’s late, but not so late that you don’t have a way home. “the buses should still be running. i can walk you to the stop if you’d like.”

he’s right—it likely wasn’t the wisest idea to stop here, especially when you’re feeling so vulnerable. and if you want to make it back to your apartment without walking miles through the snow, it would be best to pack up your pity party now. “okay. thanks.”

suo offers you a hand to help you up. he’s stronger than he looks, you think as he pulls you to a standing position. the shoes you put so much care into picking out earlier in the evening are practically soaked through with moisture but suo is careful to make sure the snow doesn’t dampen you any further. 

“do you want those?” the man asks, his finger pointing to the long-forgotten bouquet of flowers that was sitting beside you.

a fresh wave of sadness washes over you at the sight, an unwelcome reminder of how your thoughtfulness was trampled on. in all honesty, you’d much rather leave the flowers behind like the rest of this awful night but that would be littering. reluctantly, you bend down to scoop up the bouquet.

the two of you begin to walk toward the bus station and a silence blankets you, much like the fluffy snow that sprinkles from the sky. oddly enough, the quiet isn’t uncomfortable—not like how you expect it might be with someone you met only a few minutes ago. you steal a glance at the man beside you. his gaze is glued on the path ahead of him and there’s a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

a thought comes to mind and you find yourself voicing it immediately. “i never got your name.”

“i suppose we did skip that part.” he chuckles and, just like before, the sound makes your heart flutter. he turns to face you, the small smile widening as he does. “it’s suo.”

“suo…” his name rolls off your tongue smoothly. “nice to meet you.”

“the pleasure is mine.”

you grin at that because you’re sure he’s just being nice. you don’t know what part of encountering a crying stranger who calls you an asshole can be considered a pleasure, but you’re grateful for the accidental meeting. there’s no way suo can know this, but his mere presence saved you from being completely swallowed by sadness.

the lights from the bus stop come into view after a few more minutes of walking. your steps slow to a stop and suo’s do the same. 

“thanks for walking me,” you tell him as you duck under the awning. you’ve hogged space under his umbrella for long enough. “i appreciate it.”

“of course.” he waves his free hand like helping you out was the furthest thing from a chore. “please make it home safely.”

you remember him mentioning that he’d been drinking. “you too.” 

suo waves again, this time in a gesture of farewell, and turns on his heel to start on his way home. you watch his figure retreat beyond the snow and into the distance until you can’t see him anymore.

a sigh you didn’t know you were holding pushes past your lips. the weight of the flower bouquet in your hand draws your gaze toward it. with a derisive laugh, you drop them into the garbage can.

thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment :3

[wren-kitchens]

i guess i’m human no more

4732 words

joel is extremely used to the vast amount of feathers he finds in their bed (and his mouth) every morning—going so far as to know which yellow feather is from jimmy's wings or grian's (jimmy's have more brown hues in). joel essentially knows their wings off by heart, and has been teased endlessly after that one time he accidentally revealed this fact to grian.  despite all this, there's- there is a bit of a situation. it's- there's a new colour feather.

good LORD this has taken me a while to finish. judas had the incredible idea of watchers/listeners being contagious to people they're emotionally close to in MAY and here I am in december only just finishing the oneshot for it

I did in fact go wild with this one. there are many headcanons and so much bad boys because I love them

CW: body horror, gore

there are too many feathers in their bed.

this is extremely ordinary—in fact, joel would be concerned if there were a normal amount of feathers in their bed, because it would mean that jimmy and grian had just been laying completely still. after sleeping in the same bed as them for a week or so, joel has learnt that this seems to be physically impossible for either of them to do. every single morning, joel has woken up with jimmy and grian sprawled in increasingly unlikely positions on top of him and each other (which is kind of sweet), and at least three feathers in his mouth (which is kind of gross).

that's not even to mention how many feathers they shed when they stretch their wings out. honestly, joel wonders if he should just attach a bin bag to their wings and see just how many feathers they can amass in a single day; it'd be an interesting experiment. although, the most they shed is when they're preening, which- okay, he can no longer get annoyed with them when they leave the piles of fluff on the floor—not since they let him help. now he knows how loopy they get, joel understands why they'd forget to tidy up. 

(joel wouldn’t admit this at gunpoint, but he's never felt so.. okay- it's- it will sound silly, but so trusted, than when jimmy suggested joel help, and grian agreed. there are very few things so intimate than preening, as joel has learnt, and the idea that they would ask him for help with something that personal makes his head spin.)

all of this to say, joel is extremely used to the vast amount of feathers he finds in their bed (and his mouth) every morning—going so far as to know which yellow feather is from jimmy's wings or grian's (jimmy's have more brown hues in). joel essentially knows their wings off by heart, and has been teased endlessly after that one time he accidentally revealed this fact to grian. 

despite all this, there's- there is a bit of a situation. it's- there's a new colour feather.

it doesn’t sound that weird, but- no one else on the server has wings with the pattern on the feathers joel has started finding, so there's no way it just rubbed off someone else and fell off here. it's a kind of orangey-beige, with dark brown marking; something joel knows is not a pattern on anyone else's wings on this server. it could be a weird glitch, if grian or jimmy have different markings on another server, and at some point their wings lagged or something. yeah, that makes sense.

so much sense, in fact, that joel didn't bother telling grian or jimmy about it—which apparently was about to bite him in the ass. 

-

if joel has to spend one more second trying to be diplomatic with scott, whilst being shot looks that very plainly tell him to chill out, he's going to stab someone. especially as martyn and grian are clearly arguing about something or other in the most roundabout way possible, and jimmy keeps backing grian up. joel has no idea what either of them are actually arguing about, and apparently neither does scott, which is only some consolation. also- not necessarily related to this situation, but joel must have slept funny or something, because his back has been aching all day, which is not adding very much to this experience.

"look- I don’t want you to be my ally any more than you want to be mine," joel says, thoroughly exasperated. "but you and your allies seem to be fundamentally immortal in these games."

scott raises an amused eyebrow, clearly entertained by joel's attempts at formality. dickhead. "so, you’re trying to profit off my skill?"

joel scoffs, stretching his neck in the hopes of lessening some of the pain in his back. "you say that like it's a bad thing. you know, I-"

"no- you’re being ridiculous!" martyn interrupts, half shouting and apparently unaware of the commotion he’s causing. "it's downright irresponsible-"

"and what do you think you’re doing?" grian's wings have puffed up in anger. "you realise that out of everyone you could turn-"

"which is exactly why i’m not going to." martyn insists. joel has no idea what either of them are talking about, but it's better than arguing with scott.

jimmy barks a laugh. "there are more than one reasons you’re wrong there-"

"you can’t talk!" martyn jabs a finger at him. "how would you know-"

"how would I know?" jimmy says, voice slipping from indignation to anger. "how would- do you remember, martyn, who turned me?"

joel's back gives a sharp stab of pain, and he winces at it. maybe he pulled a muscle or something when he was swimming up the side of the mansion with building materials. 

scott looks at him. "what are you doing?"

"you- what?" joel glares back instinctively, which scott apparently finds funny. "i’m not doing anything?"

"if you say so." scott turns back to the argument.

joel scoffs, folding his arms- and instantly regrets it as a spasm shoots up his back. void- what did he do to himself? it seems like it's getting worse as the day goes on, which does not happen with muscle strains- as far as he remembers, anyway. scott glances at him again, and joel pretends he hasn't noticed.

" -hen you should know better." martyn's voice is cold, but there's something like regret lacing his tone. joel feels like he’s missed at least five chapters- what are they on about? "you know the risks-"

"you know the risks firsthand, martyn." grian steps forward. "and do you truly think They will take kindly-" 

"of course They won't, but it's not going to happen." martyn hisses.

whatever joel has managed to do to himself seems to be worsening by the second- demonstrated by the pounding behind his eyes that seems to have materialised out of nowhere. cool- great, this is exactly what he needs right now: more pain. he closes his eyes for a moment, in the hope that the lack of light might alleviate the throbbing pain. it does not help at all—in fact, it just makes him feel a little unstable, since he can no longer see where he’s stood. 

he's- wait, what- did joel open his eyes and not notice? that- no, that's definitely- what the fuck? is the game glitching, or is-

"joel?" scott's voice is uncomfortably close to his ear, and joel's eyes snap open (how the fuck could he still see). "are- what-" (why does scott look scared.)

"you- that's not normal." joel's voice sounds so far away from his body. does he have double vision?

pearl looks over at bigb from where she's been laying upside-down against the wall. she says something that looks like, "I have an idea." but no sound comes out.

maybe he just needs to lie down- it's probably fine. it's just- he has some kind of fever- he just needs to have a nap.

grian is too busy trying to stop both himself and jimmy from attacking martyn to notice that anything is wrong.

someone grabs his arm-

joel lists sideways, and scott manages to catch him on instinct before he completely topples over. his eyes- they've definitely not always been purple.

grian looks over, panic rising in his chest like bile as he realises the worst has happened- 

"can- is there-" joel's breath is coming far too quickly- is he even breathing anymore? "I don't-"

someone is grabbing his shoulders, and there are too many faces to even- decipher who it is. he might be on the floor- there's something that could be grass under his hands, and someone is talking- who is talking? joel doesn’t want- he doesn’t like any of this. can he go home?

his mind swims, bursts of colour and movement flashing before him, gone before he even has time to understand what they are. head pounding, faces blur his vision- some he recognises, some he can't even begin to process if they are actually faces by the time they've vanished. people are shouting what might be his name and everything is- there's too much- there's way too much-

amidst the chaos, there's a gentle pressure against his forehead, and all of a sudden-

"I- grian?" joel is- he’s looking at grian. he’s only looking at grian. 

grian's eyes are fading from purple back to black, and he looks so worried, joel is almost embarrassed. "i’m- void, i’m so sorry."

joel's chest is tight with fear, and now he isn't dealing with- whatever just happened, he realises that his back has begun to hurt a lot more than it already was. "what- what the fuck was that."

"it- that was my fault." grian drops his hands from joel's shoulders, and joel immediately misses the warmth, but he’s too focused on how guilty grian looks right now. "i’m- I was reckless- I knew what might happen, but I-"

"what happened?" joel says, almost exasperated. his back is killing him, and he doesn't know what's going on, and he just wants to go back to the mansion and curl up in their bed. "I don't- I don't care whose fault it is, I just- what was that?"

grian looks like he might cry, and that might just be the worst part of all of this. "you- so. you know what I am, right?"

"I- yeah?" joel remembers suddenly that scott and martyn are still here. "I- I know."

"well, that- if I get.. too close to someone, they-" grian's breath catches in his throat, and he coughs. joel wants to hug him, but- even the thought of lifting his arms that high makes his stomach turn. why does everything hurt so much? "it. it happens to them, too."

joel stares for a second, brain sluggish against the pain and overwhelm as he tries to understand what grian actually means. it takes a moment, but it begins to dawn on him. "you're saying- no, that wasn't-" he looks over at jimmy, half expecting to find him grinning. he is more solemn than joel has ever seen him. "that can't be- possible, I don't-"

"what did you see?" jimmy asks, and this is ludicrous, but-

"pearl and bigb." joel's head feels foggy, his spine burning at his flesh. "I- me, but, from scott's point of view. and my eyes were- wrong, I don't-" he takes a breath. "why did you not tell me?"

"selfishness, mostly." grian says softly. "there's no excuse."

"what- I just don't-" joel's breath is starting to feel laboured again as he tries to concentrate on his words and not how it feels as if his back is being sliced open. "why does it hurt?" his voice slips into something so vulnerable, joel is almost thankful that he’s too distracted to care that scott is right behind him. 

for the first time, confusion flits across grian's expression, coupled with a concerning amount of panic. "I- hurt? what hurts?" 

before joel can remember how to string the words together, scott is saying, "I- joel, take your jacket off."

grian looks as confused as joel feels, but scott sounds weirdly serious and joel is in too much pain to argue. "it- I can’t. it hurts to move."

"what's going on?" jimmy says, closer than he was a second ago.

"I would have thought you'd know." scott is saying, and joel is about to accept his fate and hit him when he finishes- "he’s growing wings."

there's a moment in which all joel can think is that he probably should have mentioned those feathers he kept finding in their bed, until there's a resounding squawk of- "what?"

"makes sense." joel grits out, if only because the juxtaposition is funny. if joel can’t commit to the bit in any situation, who even is he? "don't- don't suppose you have potions?"

"martyn, can you grab a golden apple?" scott says, stepping in front of joel—who is not happy that his best bet right now is scott smajor. he’s not so stubborn as to not accept his help though. "grian, help him take the jacket off. cut it off if needs-"

"you are- you are not ruining my jacket." joel manages to look up in order to glare at scott, but he falters as he takes in how concerned scott's expression is. scott notices him looking, and his face turns blank.

"fine- take the jacket off then, or it will get ruined." scott scoffs, turning away to watch martyn grab the apple.

"can you- are you gonna explain what is going on?" grian says, somewhat more desperate than joel thinks he meant to sound. "how is- why is this-"

a spasm of pain wracks joel's body, and he suppresses a scream as he falls forward on his arms, shaking a little. his breathing is heavy again- he just wants it to be over. 

"if I die," joel manages, head swimming. "will- can I just-" he can’t muster up the energy to finish the sentence, but the desperation in it seems to be conveyed. can it just be over?

"I don’t know." scott says, and despite it all, the helplessness in his voice brings joel some sense of vindication. so he doesn’t know everything.

"okay, i’m- i’m gonna take your jacket off." grian says, more panicked than joel knows he wants to sound. "can you- is that possible?"

joel lets grian move around him, barely lifting each arm as grian guides the sleeve of the jacket off his shoulders. as soon as the first sleeve comes off, joel finds himself relaxing ever so slightly at the lack of pressure against his spine. he should probably make that vest bigger.

"why- why is this-" joel can barely manage half of that sentence before the pain becomes too much, but scott seems to understand what he was trying to ask.

"i don't- i’m not sure." scott says, more panicked than joel thinks he’s heard him in a long while. "I just- this kind of thing happened to me in double life, but I still don't understand-"

"oh void." grian says suddenly, and joel has to resist the impulse to turn his head. "I thought i’d- it shouldn't be possible anymore-"

"what shouldn't be possible?" jimmy says, with a sense of urgency joel has never heard from him before.

grian hesitates for a moment, and joel recognises it—grian always does this when he's about to say something either bizarre or embarrassing. or both, more often than not. "the game- it thinks we're soulbound." 

there's a pause as everyone seems to process this ridiculous information, before jimmy says, "it- but why does it hurt? tango grew wings in double life, and he didn't even notice until his shirt got torn."

"there's- it's a.. thing." grian audibly winces as he speaks, as if he knows exactly how terrible whatever he’s going to say will sound and is preemptively apologetic. of course. "the closer soulmates are—like, emotionally close, I mean—the less painful it is- and vice versa. but- the game thinks we're soulmates, which. I assume is- is 'cause we're close. so since we're not actually soulbound-"

"it thinks that must be distance." scott realises. joel is gonna murder someone once he regains the use of his body.

joel groans, dropping his head to the ground in exhausted exasperation. "why's everything so.. weirdwith you?" he manages. 

"i’m so sorry." grian says, voice quiet enough that joel thinks only he was meant to hear it. 

joel is about to tell him not to worry about it when a kind of pain he’s never felt before in his life shoots through his back- and the ripping of flesh is all he can hear, a scream forcing its way from his mouth- primeval and torturous. he’s never felt pain before- he’s never felt death before- there can be nothing worse than this.

it feels like years until joel realises that he is beginning to see shapes again, that there are other noises in the world other than his own whimpers of agony, that the terrible tearing is not all he can feel anymore. there's something that feels like a viscous kind of liquid against his skin, and a sickly sweet smell that he can’t quite name. healing potion, joel recognises as the pain begins to lessen. 

after a long moment, joel finds himself able to push himself into a sitting position- and almost falls backwards as newfound weight pulls him down again. jimmy is in front of him all of a sudden, catching his shoulders and wiping something wet off his face. it could be tears, or blood, or potion—joel has no idea. 

"you- you with us?" jimmy asks, a scared-looking smile on his face, as if trying to reassure joel of something he can't bring himself to trust. "you’re not- you’re feeling better?"

joel nods, suddenly exhausted and more thankful than he realised for the warmth of jimmy's hands against his arms. "you- you guys are such nerds."

jimmy grins, looking ridiculously relieved at being insulted, and there's a soft laugh from next to him that sounds like grian. "yeah?" jimmy says. "how's that?"

"not- not sure if I misheard, but." joel takes a breath, and jimmy squeezes his arm gently. "'think you care about me so much that the game thinks we're soulmates. and you- you turned me into a watcher, or something." joel manages a grin. 

"yeah. you heard right." jimmy says, and there's a rush of affection in joel's chest. "I- do you want to lie down or something, 'cause you look like you’re about to pass out."

joel answers by shuffling slowly forwards and falling onto jimmy—far too tired and in far too much pain to let the embarrassment stop him. jimmy gives a slight gasp of worry, before wrapping his arms around joel's waist, lower than joel expected him to. it takes a second for him to remember that- he has wings now, which are probably in the way of normal hugs. jimmy presses a kiss into joel's hair, and he makes a soft sound of content.

"sorry I took so long." martyn's voice comes from somewhere behind him, more nervous than joel thinks he’s heard him in a while. man, he should grow wings more often if it makes everyone this scared. how's that for a trap? "we didn’t- I wasn't sure you’d be able to eat the apple-"

martyn's explanation is reduced to white noise in joel's ears, and- void, he’s tired. jimmy's heartbeat is audible from where joel is leant against him, and he can almost feel the way his own heart stutters to catch up; he wonders if grian's heart is at the same pace, with whatever this bizarre game has done to deign them unofficial soulmates. he wishes he had enough energy to pull grian into their hug and see for himself if their hearts all beat in unison now.

something occurs to him all of a sudden, and joel closes his eyes. he isn’t sure- and now probably is the worst time to try this kind of thing out, when he has no idea how any of it works, but maybe he can.. do something with this whole watcher thing. 

joel feels as if he’s trying to use a muscle that doesn’t exist—like some kind of phantom limb—but after a moment, grian's face comes into view. it's easier than he thought it'd be. almost like controlling a timelapse drone, but with your mind, and also the video is directly transmitted into your brain. it's pretty cool.

there's a stab of regret as joel stops congratulating himself on such a good job, and actually takes in the amount of guilt etched into every line of grian's face. his stomach drops as he turns (kind of? he sorta- uh. hard to explain, actually) and sees that jimmy is wearing a painfully similar expression. almost scared to see, joel looks at martyn and scott, and is at least vaguely reassured to see that they just look worried. frankly, if joel ever saw scott looking guilty because of joel, he'd have to end his own series. 

"it- it's not your fault y'know." joel manages—more of a mumble than anything else, but grian and jimmy both seem to know he’s talking to them. "'s kinda cool. I should probably thank you."

grian is looking at him- or, maybe his.. watcher drone? either way, he seems to know he’s being looked at. "I am sorry, either way." he says, but he doesn’t look as devastated as he did a moment ago. "I didn’t- I should have told you what could happen."

joel snorts. "if you thought I was about to turn down cool powers and wings, you don’t know me well enough." he finds that it's getting somehow easier to speak, despite being exhausted, and he remembers the healing potion still travelling through his veins. he never thought he'd be this thankful for martyn- probably ever.

grian smiles, and it feels as if a knot in joel's chest has dissipated. "you’re definitely getting the hang of it."

jimmy hums in agreement. "it's not called a drone though." he says, and it very suddenly occurs to joel what a listener must be able to do. "I- did you not already know?"

"how was I meant to?" joel huffs, watching with slight embarrassment as jimmy smiles at it. "you’re a secretive lot."

"so- and I hate to disrupt this," scott suddenly says, and joel suppresses an instinctive groan. "but do you need any more help?"

there's a mischievous kind of look that flashes across grian's face, if only for a second, and joel can't help but feel reassured by the fact that he's getting back to normal. "well- we could use a couple allies?"

scott sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can’t really turn you down now, can I?" he says, and there's a weird kind of tone that makes joel wonder if he’s actually as annoyed as he’s putting on. 

"I just grew wings." joel mumbles, unintentionally quiet but apparently effectively sympathetic, as even martyn seems to be swayed. look at him go. "'can’t just.. throw us to the wolves now."

scott rubs his face with a hand, clearly throughly exasperated at how easily he has been won over. "yeah- okay, fine. we can be allies." 

"thanks." jimmy grins a little, and joel watches as scott softens ever so slightly at it. 

joel opens his eyes, and he’s once again staring into the coral reef, facing away from everyone else. jimmy's hand is in his hair, and his back is only aching now. he’s a little worried to move, in case it all starts feeling abysmal again, but he can hardly spend the rest of his 24 hours on the mean gills' bridge.

"I could carry you." jimmy suggests, and joel makes a noise of concern—thinking about how precarious they've made their base. "that's- yeah, that's a good point." 

"could you try to stand?" grian says tentatively. his voice sounds closer than it was a moment ago, and there's a hand on joel's shoulder that has to be grian's. "the pain shouldn't get too much worse, since the potion has actually fixed a lot of the wounds."

joel wonders if grian can read minds too, or if he just knows what joel would be thinking. he doesn’t think he can read minds, which suggests that- maybe grian just knows him that well. it's a nice thought. 

he pushes himself slightly more upward, regretful as he leaves the warmth of jimmy's embrace- and immediately begins to fall backwards again, once again completely forgetting how unbalanced he is now. both jimmy and grian make noises of panic before joel catches himself before he topples all the way over, and he can’t help grinning despite the twinge of pain the sudden movement shoots through his back- and wings, which is a bizarre feeling. 

"I might need some help not falling over." joel grins, as grian stands up and lends him a hand. "but it doesn’t hurt that much anymore."

"that's good." grian says, a wave of relief overtaking his expression. joel squeezes his hand, and grian smiles. 

jimmy is at his side before joel realises. "maybe we avoid bread bridge for a bit." he says, and joel snorts.

the journey back to the mansion is not nearly as perilous as joel had worried it'd be, considering that it's day and anyone they bumped into seemed to notice the dried blood accompanying the very large wings on joel's back and presumably decided that trying to kill them now would just be rude. the downright murderous looks from both jimmy and grian when someone came a little too close with a weapon, or made just a bit too serious of a threat probably also helped.

instead of attempt to swim with the unfamiliar weight of his newgrown wings, joel elects to pillar up instead. jimmy and grian hover next to him, climbing onto trees and swimming up the water in some attempt to provide a safety net if he falls. admittedly, it's quite sweet- not that he's about to tell them that. he instead settles on insisting that he knows how to pillar up, and praying to every deity that might exist for him not to fall off immediately.

luckily, no one falls or dies or whatever, and they all make it to the top of the mansion in one piece. joel is prepared to pass out in their bed as soon as he reaches it, but he doesn’t really want his bad boys to worry even more at his exhaustion.

as if reading his mind- oh. he forgot- yeah, he can actually do that, can't he? it- anyway, jimmy plops himself down, and gestures for grian and joel to join him—which joel happily obliges. grian almost hesitates, but joel drags him along, and grian doesn't even bother protesting. 

joel lays next to jimmy, and grian—who followed quickly after him—pulls him into a hug. huffing softly, joel hugs back. "it's okay." he mumbles into grian's shoulder. "I promise- i'd say something if it weren't."

"I know." grian half-whispers, clearly fighting tears. "i’m- I just can’t get over- I did this to you."

joel swallows more emotion than he expected. "yeah. but- it's- it's 'cause you care. it's not- I can’t hate that." grian makes a little noise that could be a suppressed sob. 

"thank you." joel can barely make it out, but he can’t help but blink back tears at the honesty in it- from grian, of all people, that means a lot.

his wings are still sore, and moving them sends an ache down his back, but joel finds himself wanting to wrap them around grian. "I just- I also- y’know. care." joel says, kind of hoping it's too muffled for either grian or jimmy to hear. "it's- I like having.. I don’t know, a piece of you guys with me." 

grian sniffles, holding joel tighter. "I- dude, you’re- you’re gonna make me cry."

"join the club." joel huffs a laugh, eyes burning. he buries his face in grian's jumper in the hopes that it'll wipe away any tears that come. 

there's a very quiet clearing of someone's throat next to them—unmistakably jimmy. joel doesn’t even need to look up to know he’s also trying not to start crying, and he blindly reaches out a hand until he finds jimmy's shirt and pulls him towards them both. grian catches on, shifting a little to make room for their bad boy. 

"I- I didn’t wanna ruin the moment." jimmy is saying as both grian and joel drag him into the hug. 

joel can't help smiling as he feels jimmy wrap his arms around him, which- it's embarrassing, but weirdly, he doesn’t even care. "as if either of you could ruin anything." he scoffs, almost to himself. 

there's a kiss pressed into his hair, and grian laughs as joel rolls his eyes (if only to disguise how much he appreciates it). "bad boys for life, right?"

jimmy mhms along as joel grins, "bad boys for life."

[gummysunnybear]

I HAVE COME WITH PROBABLE EVIDENCE THAT TAURUS IS GOOD WITH KIDS!

I know most people will disagree with this but here's the evidence.

In episode where Earth and Lunar care of Dazzle for Sun due to him recovering the whole Nexus thing, you can see in the window at the end of vid Taurus looking at Dazzle and Lunar (most likely at Dazzle due to his head being positioned a little to the right where Dazzle was).

He was most likely doing this to keep watch of Lunar but I have a theory that since Dazzle is the main target for the beast, he is keeping an eye on her to make sure she's safe.

I know that people will say "Well why didn't he help Dazzle when the thing attacked her!?" Now that's a bit harder... But I think it was mostly due to the fact that he was probably busy with another planet that was infected...

Some others will say: "Why was he so harsh to Jack then? Isn't Jack also a kid?" Yes Jack is a kid! But in Taurus' eyes he probably isn't what Taurus considers as a child! He probably is trying to see wether Jack actually wants to help people.

Also one thing is that Taurus has been pretty cold to a lot of the characters but one character that we haven't seen him interact with... Is Dazzle...

There is most likely a probability where we will see Taurus interact with Dazzle and it will be cute and maybe funny!

[hannahbarberra162]

Who do you think is meaner in bed, Marco or Izo? I think lots of people would (ignorantly) assume he'd be a sub because he's feminine only to get a shock when he flips things on them, but while I think he's a good dom I personally don't see him as being a particularly mean one. I think he'd be good at staying calm and collected and making you feel reeaally embarrassed about how easily you lose composure by comparison. Marco has so much responsibility and steam to blow off I can see it. Division commander, head doctor, has to bully the strongest man in the world into taking his meds, he's gotta take the stress out on someone. Heehee idk

It's so funny you asked this - I was already writing another Mean Marco drabble! I completely agree with you. I think Marco is very tightly wound under that calm facade. He's a doctor dealing with 997 idiots (excluding Izou and Deuce), 1 Portgas D. Ace (he's in his own category), and the Captain is a stubborn old man who won't take his pills.

I do think Izou could come off as a little mean but I agree that he mostly keeps his wits about him. I could see Izou drinking tea and watching while you ride the Sybian, noting the different sounds you make and how they differ from other forms of stimulation. Or Izou teasing you endlessly as you're bound to his bedframe spread eagle, never quite touching where you need him to, agreeing with you that yes, it is quite difficult. And no, he's not going to stop until he's done.

But Marco.

Oh, Marco.

NSFW Drabble, Marco x F!Reader , ~1k (oops), mean but consensual Marco

Stress Ball

“Marco, is - oh, I guess you’re in here alone then,” Tate said, poking her head in Marco’s office. The First Division Commander smiled as he picked his head up from some reports, his red glasses resting on the end of his nose.

“Just me yoi,” he confirmed, setting down the quill he’d been using for note taking. 

“OK, no worries. But are you alright? You looked really worked up before," Tate asked, searching Marco’s face for answers.

“Ah, you know how it is. Too many patients, not enough doctors and nurses,” Marco said with an easy smile. Tate nodded and gave a knowing laugh.

“Yeah, trust me I get it. I just think you have it harder than anyone else on board. You’re in charge of our division, you’re responsible for keeping everyone safe, you’re the primary doctor for the crew, you’re basically the First Mate, and you have to give that stubborn old man all his medicine. If I was you I would have cracked a long time ago. Speaking of, I’ve been looking for - oh, nevermind. Hope you find some kind of stress relief - I can cover for you in a bit if you want to go flying?” Tate offered her longtime friend.

“I appreciate it but there’s no need yoi. I’m buried up to my neck in paperwork and besides, I found a way to blow off some steam earlier. I’m feeling pretty good right now,” Marco said, picking up his quill once more. Tate nodded and smiled, already turning to leave the office.

“Sounds great boss…I’ll go look for her in the baths then, she said she was stressed earlier…” Tate said mostly to herself, her voice getting quieter the further down the hall she went from Marco’s office. He smiled to himself then continued to write, turning the pages slowly and straightening them as needed. After about half an hour, he heard some sounds coming from the slim coat closet set in the adjacent wall. Standing up, he stretched his arms over his head, his toned stomach peeking through as his shirt rode up. Striding over to the closet, he opened the door and enjoyed the sight before his eyes.

You were inside, head moving towards the movement of air. You couldn’t see or hear him, the blindfold and headphones he’d put on you didn’t allow for any light or sound. You were shifting around, trying to find a comfortable position but Marco had ensured there wasn’t one. You were sitting on your poor red bottom on the floor of the closet, your wrists bound to your crossed ankles. The two vibrators that Marco had placed in your holes were still going but at a low hum, your slick fluids dripping down your thighs and into a small puddle on the floor. Marco squatted down next to you, causing you to search once again for the source of the movement. 

The large spider gag prevented you from calling out to him but the drool leaking from your mouth joined the rest of the slick mess you’d been making. He noted that your chest and face were still covered in his cum from earlier as he ran his thumb through the fluids. Placing his coated thumb in your open mouth, your tongue roved over the digit and sucked as much as you could. Pleased, Marco removed your headphones, making your head jerk in his direction.

“You’re being too loud yoi. I can hear you moving around all the way from my desk,” Marco cooed into your ear. He palmed your breasts in his hands, rolling your already pert nipples in his fingers. After only a few moments of pinching and teasing you were panting and straining against the bindings he’d lovingly put on your hours before but making as little noise as you could.

“You wouldn’t want anyone to find you like this, would you yoi? You shook your head rapidly while a blush rose in your cheeks.

“Then you need to be quieter, hm? Let’s see if you can be a good little thing for me,” Marco said affectionately, petting your hair. Reaching into his pocket he removed a heavy chain with teeth clamps on either end. Putting his hand on your back for support, he dipped his head low and nipped and kissed your breast, leaving a trail of hickeys until he reached your nipple. Sucking hard, he laved his tongue over the sensitive bud until your chest was heaving. Pulling away his head with an audible pop, he quickly placed the clamp on your nipple. You whined softly as he repeated the process with your other nipple until both were clamped between the teeth of the metal binding.

“Ah ah. Not so loud or I’ll have to leave the door open yoi. You don’t want the rest of the crew to see how needy you are do you? I think another 30 minutes here would help us both, hm? I’m feeling relaxed already and I’m sure you are too,” Marco said with a grin, pulling on the chain gently. You pushed your chest up to alleviate the pain from the clamps but that caused the large plug in your ass to be ground in further. Marco looked you over, putting his index and middle finger into your fist. 

“Once for green, twice for yellow, three times for red,” he said softly, waiting for your response. You gave him two hard squeezes and he kissed your cheek.

“I felt yellow. Again, just to make sure I got the right one. Once for green, twice for yellow, three times for red,” he repeated. Just as before you squeezed his fingers twice, leaving no room for error. 

 “Doing so well, Doveling, just a little more,” he whispered into your ear. He replaced the headphones, kissed the top of your head and shut the door to the closet. Humming happily he sat down at his desk to finish the last of his paperwork. He’d be done soon and he’d make you come around his cock until you cried for him to stop. That would alleviate your stress, he thought with a grin.

[bugbxyjunk]

the only thing that keeps me going in the school year is academic validation

[volfoss]

it is beyond infuriating how anne rice seems to insist on marius being a positive force in anyone's life ever. like she can't fully commit to exploring the fact he groomed armand and has repeatedly taken away his consent for what marius thinks is best (take the end of TVA as an example) and just kind of flatly puts it in the narrative. there's not really much interest in how these horrific events make marius come across as the worst because EVERYONE loves him. for gods sake, lestat learns from armand exactly what marius did to him in TVL and then proceeds to go find marius and be super friendly to him in the same fucking book. even armand and pandora, two of the people who have MORE than enough right to hate him, do not. it doesnt feel like shes trying to explore the toxicity of the abusive dynamic he traps them in, it just is there. and like yeah ofc the toxic vampire romance series but i think that this should be handled with more care. and it is not ever really framed in a way that she is interested in exploring how marius should easily be one of the most horrific characters in this series because it kind of feels like sa/rape/grooming/other things of that sort are just put there to further plot and not to really get the respect that they deserve in a medium.

[sskk-manifesto]

(´；ω；｀)

[they-call-me-hippie]

Yeah I can tell people have lost their grasp on basic ongoing forms of oppression when they say things like "hatred of men and masculinity is one of the reasons trans women, BIPOC and Jewish men are persecuted" like what a non-sequiteur. Imagine being so ignorant of power structures in your attempt to """progressively""" defend men that you become transphobic

[snarltoothed]

yo barbies do have absolutely inhuman proportions and theyve given ken a truckload of cake. just an observation after play acting a barbie affair to a toddler and trying to reiterate the points her mom was trying to make every time she was upset through Ken, who had to be the voice of reason the way Barbie and Barnie kept hitting & yeling at him bc he had a baby with Barnie and their baby can magically fly and is causing a whole lot of problems and infected Dr. Mouse with her magical flying ability but neither of them are good at it and they keep sustaining what should be fatal injuries by jumping off of rooves and i got nowhere in probing about why Baby and Dr. Mouse want to hurt themselves and won’t just rest it off like Dr. Mouse said before she got magic infection and like Dr. Unicorn said before that before he died (permanently i guess she never brought him back lol) because this little girl had more insistence toward playing barbies for “just a little longer” than i have ever had toward ANYTHING…

(like. 2 hours of barbies prior to driving her around and hoping she’d sleep then bringing her to a playground trying to tire her out then the long way home to see if she’d pass out then for like 3 hours but ALAS she wanted to play barbies again within the hour and we continued on and off for 5. hours. i was three feet from the dolls to take my meds and a drink of water and she was like “ken…?” and i was like “one second honey ken is distracted by the movie but i’ll come back over in just a minute i just need to do something real quick” and she was just like “no! no!” and intensely cried for the 30 seconds it took me to swallow 👁👄👁)

((maybe i was also bossy af at her age, suppose maybe i wouldnt remember being tantrum prone toddler lmao… everything i remember i feel like i was pretty meek but i probs cried a lot. idk if i WAILED tho. my mom describes me as “perfect (in terms of childhood behavior) until puberty”. whereas my brother was a monster until about 3 or 4 and she isnt afraid to say so… either way no judgement unto the toddler, i probably started internalizing my feelings way too young for that to be healthy. tangent. my b.))

anyways point being: why are barbie’s legs still so fucking long??? her torso is more normal these days than 20 years ago but ye gods, the woman has still gotta be 7ft tall… and why can’t we out barbie in flats? literally why does she still have deformed ballerina feet? little girls don’t wear heels. little girls shouldn’t wear heels? not like that? because adult fucking women shouldn’t? (thankfully my psuedoneice wants everyone but ken naked ?)

SECOND POINT BEING: MOMFEMS, SINGLE MOMS, MOTHERS IN GENERAL… i have the utmost fucking respect for you. mothers do more for the world than ANY man, EVERY government & law system, fuck, even all the goddamn charities and every single scientific discovery presently known or yet to be found out. and it is NOT EASY WORK!! it is often THANKLESS WORK. it is always UNPAID WORK. mad fucking respect to moms. i could never.

[muzzledcachorro]

met up with my schools principal today to explain shit going on & all she could say at first was "wow that’s a lot"

[pygmi-says-hi]

STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you’re really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it’s only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they’re bleeding. stop with the ‘i didn’t even feel it’ yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it’s really gushin’, other times it’s a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it’s slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain’t that articulate. even if they’re mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that’s ur trope - or a secret, it’s gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they’re gonna feel fine. until….bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 110F. no 'oh no his fever is 120F!! ahhh!“ no his fever is 0F because he’s fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it’s a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

seizures (severe)

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

ALSO about fevers - they absolutely can cause hallucinations. Sometimes these alter memory and future memory processing. they're scary shit guys.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

ALSO I FORGOT LEMME ADD ON:

YOU DIE AT 85F

sorry I forgot. at that point for a sustained period of time you're too cold to survive.

pt 2

also please stop traumadumping in the notes/tags, that's not the point of this post. it's really upsetting to see on my feed, so i'm muting the notifs for this post. if you have a question about this post, dm me, but i don't want a constant influx of traumatic stories. xox

[hecksupremechips]

Replaying p3 is such a frightening experience because it forces me to remember Ikutski is a real character that exists

[lakemichigans]

i need someone smarter than me to analyze the copaganda and acab themes at war in the fast and furious movies and how they change over time because it genuinely makes my brain hurt trying to figure out what message they intend to send

[p3terparker]

𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝗲 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter wants to be babied.

𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k

𝗮/𝗻: hey guys!! it has been nearly a year since i’ve last written and i just wanna say i’m sorry for leaving for so long </3 please do bear with me, this may not be that good judging by how long it’s been since i’ve last written. i hope you enjoy though! also for everyone who has requested something, i haven’t forgotten about you! i’m getting to those soon :)

“please hold me” 

it’s nearly 1am and you’re sprawled out on your bed watching some random movie that was playing on tv. you’ve been up waiting for hours for peter to come by after patrol, and now he’s finally here sneaking in through your window.

“are you okay baby? you finished up pretty late” you question softly as you take off his mask and brush his hair out of his face.

“i’m fine. i just want you to hold me” he says tiredly and practically puts all of his body weight on you, causing you both to fall back onto your bed.

adjusting yourselves to get more comfortable, you’re now laid back on your pillow as you hug peters large frame while his face is nuzzled in your chest.

you two lay silently as you rub his back until you decide to break the silence.

“you know, you’re still in your suit. you’re getting my bed dirty.”

“you just want me to take it off so you can see me naked”

“you’re done” you say before attempting to push him off of you. peter quickly caught your hands before you could even try.

“how did you–”

“i’m spider-man, baby”

“clearly” you chuckle, referring to him still being in his suit.

“since you want to see me naked so bad, i’ll take it off” he groans as if it’s the hardest task in the world. “happy now?”

“very. now come lay back down”

you don’t have to tell him twice. he quickly gets back into the position you two were in before and enjoys the warmth and comfort you bring him.

“you’re so perfect petey, did you know that?”

“mmm” he groans into as he nuzzles his face further into your chest, enjoying the sudden compliment.

“i mean seriously. you’re so smart, so strong, so caring and so funny. you being handsome is just the cherry on top”

“stoppp” he whines. “i’m blushing.”

“okay fine, i’m done”

“nooo, i didn’t mean it! keep going please” he cries as he lifts up his head to look at you.

“you are truly such a big baby”

“i’m your big baby. now continue please, i love being praised by you.”

how could you deny him?

“i love how cute you are. you have the prettiest brown hair and eyes. your face is perfectly sculpted too. i don’t know how i got blessed with the most handsome boyfriend in the world.” 

“mmm” he groans again in complete ecstasy. hearing your compliments is like music to his ears.

“you’re so cute, i just want to squish your cheeks” you say before lifting his head up slightly and squishing his cheeks together.

you cannot believe he’s letting you baby him like this.

“aww petey, you’re so adorable” 

“thank you” he says with a pink tint on his cheeks as he rests his head on your chest again, suddenly feeling sleepy.

you two sat in silence for a few more minutes and he peacefully drifted to sleep.

you were definitely going to make fun of him for tonight in the morning.

[luveline]

could you please write something with bombshell reader and spencer where there is a misunderstanding and she thinks he is cheating on her?? or anything angsty? love your work and just want to tell you how you are the best author in this fandom! besos <333

thanks so much, hope this is okay! fem, 1.2k

You bend forward and breathe. 

Rough breathing. Audibly disjointed, and panicked, and drawing attention. You clasp at the side of the counter in the office kitchen and everyone standing around you goes silent. 

Someone must tell someone who tells someone, because Anderson makes his way to your side soon after. “Y/N, do you need me to get someone?” he asks. 

“Hotch?” you ask. 

“Sure. Do you want to sit down?” 

Your mouth isn’t calibrated to your mind. Your answer takes time. “I’m okay.” 

You blink hard. Your lashes are sticky, mascara wet in the corners and pulling on each other as you force yourself to keep them open. When Hotch collects you, it is with an immense tenderness, and a poorly concealed confusion. “Hey, come on,” he says, guiding you toward the office doors, “let’s find somewhere quieter.” 

You’re three steps down the hallway when you stop. You cover your face with both hands. 

Your entire world just got rocked… you don’t even know how to say it. You can’t stop seeing it, his hand on her shoulder, his head tilted to one side like he always does with you, like he’s going to kiss her cheek. And she’d just let him do it. 

“What happened?” 

“They were kissing.” 

Hotch looks down at you patiently. “Who?” 

“Spencer and JJ.” You swallow down bile. Your voice sounds far away, “They were so close…” 

“Are you sure?” 

“No… Just, it looked like they were. She had her arms around him, he…” 

You blink hard again, but the panic, the agony remains. You could see it, Spencer kissing her, and it just tore you to pieces right then and there. How could he do that to you? The stereotypical you’d always expected to be above races through your head. Weren’t you too much to lose? 

“They were too close,” you say more firmly. 

“Alright,” Hotch says softly. Then, because he’s your friend, even if you’ve thrust him into an awkward position. “I can work this out for you, if you want. I can kill him for you if necessary.” 

“That’s not funny,” you say, because even if it were, it’s way too soon. 

“I’m not joking. If Spencer ever did that to you, I’d… well, I wouldn’t hurt him, but he would lose my respect, and he would lose yours. Do you believe Spencer would put that at risk?” 

“You think I’m overreacting.” 

Hotch gives you a look. Full Hotchner. Understanding, patient, a little humorous. “I honestly can’t imagine a world where Spencer does something that would hurt you, that’s all. I’m not trying to mock you. I’m not saying you can’t be upset.” 

You realise after a few deep breaths that he was trying to drive you from a panic attack, and he did it successfully. You swallow a nervous lump.

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.”

“I think I can kill him.”

“I don’t doubt it. Do you want to?” 

“Depends on what I saw,” you mutter, turning away from the glass office doors as they open. 

“Well… perhaps you can–”

“Hey, what are you guys doing out here?” Spencer interrupts, breathless as he slides around Hotch and takes your arm in his hand. “Angel, I need your help, urgently. JJ’s earring got caught in my hair, I’m pretty sure I’m bald.” 

You squint at him, still a little breathless yourself. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, looking between you and Hotch with regret. “What’s wrong? You look sick.”

“What did JJ do?” you ask. 

“Angel?” 

He squints. When you fail to offer a reason, he tips his head down to show you the top of his head. “Am I bald? She dropped her pencil case and I tried to grab it, and she yanked back. I tried to stop her from ripping it out, but she said I had to stop being a big baby.” 

He laughs. Hotch lets out an audible breath. 

“I’m hideous,” Spencer surmises from your silence. 

“I didn’t really look.” 

Spencer looks at Hotch. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Please?” 

You send Hotch a look that says please, don’t.  

“I just felt a bit panicked,” you confess, a half truth to spare your dignity.

“I brought her out here for some quiet,” Hotch says. 

Spencer frowns and holds your arm again with more softness. “You did? Are you feeling better now? You know, the sudden onset of panic is often caused by a process called overbreathing, have you felt that happen to you recently? It’s accidental hyperventilation. Low carbon dioxide in the blood.” His frown deepens. “Unless it’s not that. Are you worried about something?” 

You watch as his hand glides further up, his thumb rubbing into the soft fat of your upper arm. 

“Worried about your hairline,” you mumble. 

Look, you’ll tell Spencer eventually, maybe. But for now your head hurts and you really had almost spun yourself into an anxiety attack, and you need the rest, and meeting his eyes isn’t easy. 

If he were lying about the earring, you’d be able to tell. If he’d kissed JJ, the guilt would be pouring off of him. 

“I can trust you to look after her?” Hotch asks. 

“When can’t you?” Spencer asks sincerely. 

Footsteps. A door opening. 

You and Spencer alone, his voice warm with concern. “Are you okay? Really okay?” 

“Can you hug me?” 

“Sure I can.” He slips his arms through yours and pulls you in. “Do you need something? Listening to music can help, I have my headphones on my desk. Or we can just– walk.” His hand spread wide over your shoulder. “You’re shaking.” 

“I am?” 

“Just a little…” 

You try your best to stand completely still. 

“Oh,” he says softly, pulling you with more force toward his chest, “I’m sorry, I had no idea you weren’t feeling okay today. But it’ll be okay, I promise. I got you.” 

It’s not often you feel like the smaller person in your relationship, and he doesn’t make you feel small, but the depth of his promise gives him this bigness that dulls the panic. Spencer… he really wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You aren’t at fault for thinking they were too close, but there’s an explanation, and for now that’s enough to make you feel better. 

“How much hair did she rip out, sweetheart?” you murmur, leaning back just far to see his face, not wanting to disturb the stable quiet. “Does it hurt?” 

“No, I’m fine. Honestly I’m more worried about you than my hair.” 

“Can I explain it to you later?” 

“You’ll sleep over?” he asks, lips thinning into a smile. 

“Yeah.” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says. 

You close your eyes as he cups your face with both hands. Later, when you tell him, he isn’t offended, just sorry. Necessary or not, he apologises and holds you with so much tenderness you’re assured again that Spencer hurting you would only ever be an accident.

[hexhomos]

Hello fellow Jayce defender.

First off, virtual kisses on both your cheeks for your Arcane analysis. They're refreshing to read, and insightful as well.

Something that's always bothered me about the way fans interact with Jayce is assuming that he's always the one making the mistakes in any of his relationships. It's almost funny in a way how they strip other characters of their autonomy and arcs just so they can point out how Jayce is failing his partners.

With Mel and Viktor especially, there's this narrative that Jayce simultaneously ignores both of their needs while also prioritising one over the other. Either he neglects Viktor to go and swoon over Mel, or he abandons his relationship with Mel to go play science with Viktor, or he neglects both to go do his own things while they suffer through their own plots.

And it's fascinating how incredibly mistaken these people are, and also how they reduce his character to only being important when he's in a relationship.

I'm here like, "hey, do you wanna discuss the reason for how Jayce seemingly knows how to navigate the ways of high class society very easily is probably because he's had to rely on sponsorships and donations for most of his youth to find his research because his house is too poor to be able afford it?"

Or "It's canonical that Jayce only ever had one friend in his youth before Viktor, and that was the daughter of his main sponsor, do you think it's interesting that this indicates he probably had difficulty making or maintaining friendships and that this is possibly a symptom of the Academy mainly housing elite and rich students so they couldn't relate to his struggles and he couldn't relate to theirs?"

But no, people just want to hate on him for not being the picture perfect boytoy in a relationship.

And I mean, it's not like it's just reduced to Jayce either. So many other characters have had similar treatments where they're reduced to either their most basic qualities or mischaracterised entirely. And I'm really not trying to be the fandom police or whatever - everyone interprets differently - I just find it frustrating is all.

Anyways, you're cool.

YES I never have time to talk about this bc people don't give a fuck but in Jayce's journals we even see him stewing with envy and petty rage at this star-rising student on the academy that he sees as the example of a perfect prodigy (in opposition to how much Jayce fucks things up...)

It also strongly suggests he's on a scholarship, which ties into his suicide attempt.

Jayce is keeping his experiments a secret from everyone to avoid the blowback and isolating himself further and further when they don't work. Jayce is flawed! He's proud of his dream pitch to the point of hilarity. Jayce doesn't like socializing, he does it out of obligation! Even when he's being raised to a councilor position in s1 he's PANICKING. He doesn't want the fucking job, he doesn't like the parties nor the people, his truest honest self is that moment in season 2 where he declares the lab was always his home, and so was Viktor.

But even then he subsumes his own wants spends most of s1 trying to attend to the needs of other people. He routinely asks Viktor if he's alright, if he wants to come up to do the presentation, if he's sure those experiments are safe, etc. He tries to make Heimerdinger proud despite his constant rejections of their projects, and only turns on him when he threatens viktor's wellbeing. The reason why he doesn't announce anything on progress day is that he Was listening to Heimers so-called wisdom and it only bit him in the ass. Jayce gets himself in trouble with the council by being too naive and assuming his new post will allow him to crackdown on Piltovan corruption aided by the Hexgates. Majority of the complaints wrt relationships I see people making of him are just wildly exaggerated. "He was neglecting viktor" bro he talks about viktor in nearly every scene he has with mel 😭 viktor is the one who isolates himself and randomly disappears at times bc he's a grown man with his own boundaries.

Jayce's entire life is defined by the transactional nature of his existence, his work, the patronage receives - all depending on how much he can play the showpony role without fucking it up. It's not a comfortable position. Jayce is stressing out the whole damn show because if one person isn't pissed at him, someone else will be, and it always comes down to revokable money, investments, social standing. if he really was as uncaring and well-off as some claim he wouldn't give a shit. He could just coast along life, but that's not what he's doing ever. He only 'frees' himself in season 2 by abandoning his life's dream and the rotten reality that existed around it. Which is kind of bleak, but at least its over.