#i was like oh yeah all of us here take care of the things that fall over in the storms and she was supppper passive aggressive about it

[forever-rogue]

hii i love the way u write for Joel and was just wondering if i could request something.

so i always see people write joel coming home later then usual after patrol and reader is very worried but i haven’t seen much of it the other way around, like reader is on patrol without joel and joel is all worried and can’t sleep and is just waiting for reader to come home and maybe reader comes back with a few cuts and bruises but nothing to serious but joel is just taking extreme care of her 🥹

AN | Oh, but I love this concept! Enjoy💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader 

Warnings | None

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Pacing ain’t going to get you anywhere,” Ellie stood at the foot of the stairs with her arms over her chest as she looked at Joel, “you of all people should know that better than anyone. ‘Sides what are you even worrying about?”

“Ellie,” he sighed her name in that familiar tone that never failed to amuse her. He’d been at the front door, poking his head out and looking around the yard and surrounding area, “why are you still up?”

“It’s only ten o’clock, old man,” she made a show of looking at her watch, one he had gifted her a few years back, “and I’m not ancient. And…I knew you were worried and I can’t sleep if I know you’re worried.”

“I’m not…” he stepped back inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He leaned against the door and looked at the girl with a small smile, “ain’t no use lying to you, is there?”

“Never has been,” she walked over to the couch and flopped on it, leaving ample space for Joel, “and there never will be. I can see right through you. You’re not as brooding and mysterious as people like to think.”

“Well then you should probably know exactly what’s on my mind,” he sat down with a groan next to her, kicking his feet onto the coffee table. The two of them exchanged a quick look, “I can’t not worry about either of you. You’re….you’re my girls and it’s my job to worry. She was supposed to be home this afternoon. She’s late.”

“Don’t you think we worry about you as well?” she nudged his leg and he huffed with a roll of his eyes, “we do. You know that. It’s okay to worry…even if there’s no use. They’re probably just running a little bit behind. You know how these things go. It doesn’t inherently mean that anything bad happened.”

“There is always use,” Joel insisted, “even if you don’t want to think there is anything to worry about, there’s always something. You can’t just trust anything outside of our walls.”

“Yeah…well, nothing’s ever happened to your sweetheart so I think it’ll be okay,” she insisted softly. Ellie barely managed to stifle a yawn as Joel raised an eyebrow at her before looking pointedly towards the upstairs. She rolled her head back and groaned, “fine. Fine. Maybe I’m tired. Are you sure you’re going to be okay? You’re not gonna stay up all night looking out the door every five minutes?”

“I’ll be alright,” he promised. He knew that, logically, everything would be alright but it still didn’t help to quell the lingering worry that was hanging on at the back of his mind, “I’m about to go to bed too. You’re right; ain’t no use with worrying about something I can’t change.”

Joel had had the intention of going up to bed after Ellie, but he'd remained on the couch for a few minutes longer. Soon enough he had changed positions and was fast asleep, snoring away softly, despite his intentions of actually getting up and going to bed.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you walked into the house, the sun was starting to rise; you’d planned on being home the afternoon before but you know, life always seemed to have a different plan. You hadn’t planned on getting injured either but here you were; your shoulder was grazed but patched up the rest of your scratches weren’t anything of note. Well - to the average person they wouldn’t be anything to take a double look at but your partner was far from the average person. You were pretty sure he’d have a heart attack, or something close to it when he saw you. 

You opened the door as quietly as possible, slinking into the front room and shutting and locking the door. You’d been sure that Joel and Ellie would be fast asleep but instead you found Joel sprawled on the couch, snoring softly. 

“Oh honey,” you whispered sweetly, careful not to make too much noise to rouse either Joel or Ellie.

A smile graced your face as you dropped your bag and kicked off your shoes, trying to be as quiet as possible. You grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and gently draped it over Joel’s frame. He mumbled something softly but didn’t stir otherwise. You tenderly pushed some of his stray curls out of his face, and brushed your thumb over his cheek. Your original plan had been to take a quick shower and slip into bed and maybe, kinda, sorta pretend you’d been there for some time, but as soon as you’d seen him on the couch you knew that wasn’t going to be an option. 

Instead of any of your original plans, you yanked your sweater off and tossed it the pile by the door before gently pulling the blanket off Joel’s frame and sliding in next to him. You had just enough room to make it in, and as soon as he felt your body next to his, Joel wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his frame. You made a small sound of content as you settled into him, quickly feeling yourself lulled to sleep. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel hadn’t heard you come home - not entirely anyway. He had been half awake when he’d heard the door open and then felt someone drape the blanket over him. He was pretty sure that he was having some sort of dream so he hadn’t questioned it or bothered to try and fully wake up. 

When he did finally wake up, he was confused by the warm body next to him. Panic was his first instinct but then he quickly realized that it was you. He let out a small sigh of relief at the fact that you were finally home. He put two and two together and realized that what he thought was a dream was actually just you coming home. You hadn’t woken up yet so he gently maneuvered himself out from behind you and made sure you were comfortable before going to gather up your things to put them away. 

But before he managed to walk away he touched your face and almost froze. 

“What happened?” he asked sharply, as he looked over the bruising on the side of your face that led down to your shoulder. He exhaled sharply when he spied the bandage that was covering most of your shoulder. He hadn’t meant to ask so loudly, but it caused you to startle awake.

You blinked away the bleariness that was remaining in your eyes and found Joel looking at you with a worried expression on his face. A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth when you realized it was him, “hey Joel.”

“Baby,” he sighed softly, crouching down in front of you, “thank god you’re home.”

“Happy to be home,” you whispered, yawning lightly, “sorry it took so long.”

“What happened? Do you have any other injuries?” Joel was ready to rip the blanket off and look you over for himself to make sure there wasn’t anything hiding from him. If anything happened to you, he wasn’t sure he’d survive. He’d been through too much in his life and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive another such heartbreak. He knew, he was well aware, that he was spiraling and was trying to control himself but it was hard. But logically, judging from how you were still quietly laying on the couch, he knew that you were more than likely okay and if you had anything more it would be superficial. 

“Just scratches and stuff,” you mumbled as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and shifted to sit up. You slowly stretched, careful not to aggravate any of your injuries further and fully aware of Joel’s eyes being locked onto you, “nothing I can’t handle. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Miller.”

“I hope I never get rid of you,” he mumbled as he took your face gently in his hands, appraising you with gentle eyes, “I’m gonna need to keep staying tough, baby.”

“I don’t plan on changing,” your words came out as more of a whisper than anything as you looked at him with sweet eyes and a saccharine smile, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he promised in return, closing his eyes and letting out a soft sigh, “I just worry.”

“Yeah, I know you do,” you put your hand on top of his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, “but what does worrying get you? Nothing except a few more wrinkles and worry lines. It doesn’t change what’s happened or what will happen. I know it’s easier to say than do but promise me you’ll try?”

“I’ll try,” he agreed and you gave him a knowing little smile, “I didn’t say I was going to be perfect. But for you I’ll try anything. You gonna tell me how you got that injury then, darlin’?”

“Joel…it’s fine,” you swallowed thickly, absentmindedly running your hand over the bandaging, “just know it’s all going to be alright.”

“Now what makes you think I would accept that as an answer, huh?” he said back down in front of and offered you an expectant look. You knew that he wouldn’t just accept that answer and you’d been a fool to even try that one on him. Silly girl. The only way Joel Miller would accept such an answer was when he was long cold in the ground and even then it wasn’t a guarantee, “you’re smarter than that.”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” your voice was small and gentle as Joel nodded. 

“I’d never be mad at you, baby. I just want to know…please.”

You let out a small sigh as you nodded, “well, it turns out that I was a little slow and umm, well, t-there was a clicker and the fucker was a just a little faster than me. A-and it got me so yeah….”

Joel’s mouth dropped as he processed what you said, “I-”

“W-wait, I didn’t - I wasn’t bitten,” you hastily pulled off the bandage to show him as though he needed some kind of proof. You’d never put anyone else in danger and neither would Joel, “just scratched and scraped. See - I-I’m fine.”

“Baby - baby,” he put his hands on your upper arms, doing his best to calm you down, “I’m not worried about you being bitten. I know you wouldn’t…no. But this is….it’s still not great. It looks-”

“Terrible,” you finished for him, fully aware that you would be bearing a nasty scar for some time, “I didn’t want you to panic.”

“I just want to know that you’re okay. I don’t want this to get infected - don’t laugh at that - and lead to something worse,” you hadn’t meant to laugh at his inadvertent comment but you also were tired and felt half delirious from everything that had happened, “but it looks well looked after. You’re just going to have to be careful for a while, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed softly, “you’re not going to let me go on patrol for a while, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he agreed, causing your heart to melt at his sweet tone, “I’ll pull double duty if I have to, but you ain’t going out there. Not right now - I think everyone can understand that. And if you even try, darlin’, you won’t even make it to the stables.”

“I wouldn’t dare to try,” you were absolutely a strong independent woman…but you couldn’t deny the fact that when Joel grew so protective and in charge it did something to you, “can I ask for a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can we go to bed?” you asked softly, “I just wanna go to sleep and want you to hold me.”

“We can do that,” he slowly rose to his feet and stretched before helping you off the couch, “that sounds great to me. You’re trouble, but I love you.”

“I’m just your kind of trouble,” you offered as he huffed through a laugh, “I love you too, Miller.”

[astarless-fights]

A question I have always had: Do people care about the border because someone tells them they need to be concerned? Do they ever see proof? Or speak with someone who lives down there? Is it actually an issue or are people coming in and paying taxes, beefing up towns, and taking a part in the community? Is illegal immigration actually bad or is it a complex issue that is both good and bad and non local medias are just giving you a basic interpretation to have a talking point? Let’s dive deeper.

I have heard OP’s thoughts here before and it’s always come from border towns and border city limits. Which always tells me something else is going on.

Because here’s the thing, media reports and political agencies always misreport and misrepresent things that happen across the country. I have a couple examples as someone who comes from the East Coast but has had the pleasure of working in western states.

1. Remember when they introduced the wolves to Yellowstone in ‘95 and the media updated us back in 2016 “oh there’s wildflowers coming back! And the water is clean again”? I got that propaganda too on the East Coast. And sure, the good stuff probably happened. But wanna guess what I found out that year when I eventually shipped out to Idaho and spoke to wildlife biologists on the rivers?

They introduced the incorrect subspecies of wolf. Instead of using the historic Northern Rocky Mountain Wolves, they introduced a much larger, well traveling wolf called the Northwestern Wolf. The NRM wolves were small and tended to stick to a territory which would have been perfect for what they were trying to do for Yellowstone and the area surrounding. Instead they added a much hungrier wolf that follows its meals across the region, fucking up the ecosystems and wildlife patterns in surrounding states. Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana already had a pretty decent Rocky Mountain Wolf population that could no longer source its meals consistently due to wildlife patterns shifting dramatically, so they started going after the farms. Which if you are not someone who pays attention to wildlife laws and regulations, is the worst thing that could happen for them because farmers hold a lot of political power and often lobby local governments to increase population regulation (ehem, kill em).

2. When that kid died at Disney World… the one with the gator attack? Yeah, that was awful. I come from the southeast and growing up with gators nearby was a common experience for me. I was out in Idaho watching the news when it hit breaking news. The western media proceeded to push ideas that gators are controllable, it’s Disney World’s fault for not putting gates around the whole property to keep them out. It’s Florida’s fault for allowing this to happen.

Sure, should a gate have been placed around that beach? Totally. From working in tourism my whole life, the number one thing I have learned is that tourists are generally ignorant of local knowledge and common sense. I don’t mean this in a horrible way… but people forget they can die on vacation and tend to act as if it’s not possible so they disregard a lot of warnings. The gate would have been specific to people though. Gates don’t stop gators.

In fact they can climb. They can climb over a wooden gate, a chain link, climb up a tree, climb up the stairs… they are the largest vermin. They know no rules or boundaries. If there is water, they are there and they will find away to be there. It is common sense for those in southern coastal states to not go near the water at feeding times, watch the water, maybe keep your distance. If there are warning signs, then there’s definitely a gator that frequents the area but if there’s no sign, then there still is when no one’s watching. Western US media made it sound like they should have killed all the gators off and that just is so ignorant of the sensitive Floridian habitat. We need them there and in georgia, in south carolina, in Louisiana, and alabama. We need them in that ecosystem.

I remember listening to my boss at the time and my coworkers who had just listened to what I had were already shooting off the mislead comments of what the reporters had brought to light. Mostly because they didn’t know gators. They didn’t know Florida. None of them had ever been down there so when information is presented by a trusted source, why not trust that it’s correct?

Yes I explained to them before the topic left. But my observation still stands. Media that is not local to the topic will misconstrue the topic.

So when I see the LA fires and the east coast media telling everyone “the reason is due to them not taking control of their wilderness”, I want you to think of this post, what I have heard and seen with my own eyes, and search for a local reporter to the topic. Because I guarantee it is more complex than that.

Or when you see the border crisis and you aren’t from the border and neither is your favorite news channel… find a local news report to the topic.

If you see something being reported on from across the nation and you are not local, do yourself a favor and check out local to the topic reports. You’ll get more correct information instead of talking points used for political needs.

there is no border crisis. there is no immigration crisis. there never has been. it’s fear mongering, xenophobic, racist propaganda.

sincerely,

a life long borderland resident

[lovedahlia]

LOVERBOY ! SOLDIER BOY HEADCANONS ( 18+ ! )

. . . bc i'm feeling so incredibly mentally ill rn. lemme live in this fantasy. that i believe to be true & how my pookie beloved would BEEEEE. idc if u think it's ooc this is my canon.

ben greets you every time you see each other with a kiss on the back of the hand and some murmured words, like, "hey pretty."

he's constantly showering you with gifts.

flowers for when he does something bad, with a messy scrawled note that says "sorry for making you cry. kisses." or, "sorry i punched a hole through the door. love you." or, "not apologizing for beating that guy's face in. sorry it upset you though. kisses."

chocolates for when he comes over. two boxes, one for him, one for you, because he knows ( from previous experience ) that it irritates you when he'd steal from yours.

( it does not stop him still from stealing )

jewelry! every time he sees something that you would look pretty in! and he does the clasps for you.

he's a nuzzler. you made the mistake once of mentioning how his beardburn tickled and now he doesn't just aim to leave it between your thighs but he rubs his face on your neck and throat like a cat.

he's still gruff as fuck, but it's with more intent, now. he'll bend you over and throw your legs around and move you as he pleases but kisses each part along the way.

like. he puts your legs over his shoulders when you're pinned beneath him and kisses your ankle. he puts you on your hands and knees and trails little kisses down your spine.

don't get him started on hickeys. seriously. he bites.

the aftercare is so lovely with him :( he absolutely doesn't listen to your insistences that you're fine. he's already running a bath for you, WITH bubbles, even though it wastes your pretty soaps.

he just likes to be able to scoop some bubbles up and pile them on your head while you're in there <3 bc oh yeah, he is washing u. don't even try to argue.

long days = him not saying a word when he gets home = he's just immediately snatching you from wherever you are to drag you to the nearest seat so he can sit with you in his lap. many dinners have been burnt bc of this.

he likes when you play with his hair! it makes him feel like something gentle and kind and deserving of it, when you treat him so lovely. even though he only ever cares what people think of him with you, and only cares how he behaves in front of you.

praise <3 you could walk into a room and he'd be like "my pretty baby's so damn steady on their feet, my god." he wants you to have the biggest ego on the planet actually

he also likes to remind you of how well you take him when he's fucking you.

he WILL and DOES pay attention to your cues. you're overwhelmed? need a break? he's not questioning it. maybe he'll tease you that "you didn't need a break last time he was so rough" but that's all.

forehead kisses. he is tall. he is kissing the top of your head, your forehead, or your temple, whenever he damn pleases.

he has probably killed people for looking at you wrong or being mean to you. at the very least he threatens it, because how could someone be mean to you? you? his baby? the one who's never done a thing wrong in your life?

. . . of course my first post over here is me being soldier boy's biggest simp in the universe. kissin the ground he walks on. literally im there on the ground rn doin it do u see me.

tags <3 @figthoughts @honeyryewhiskey @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @aileenunfiltered @bluemerakis @deansbite @beausling @ultravi0lence14 @starzify @angelblqde i don't remember all my mooties to tag over here ... if u are forgotten pls take me out back n shoot me 4 this mistake.

property of the FLORALSCENTED franchise! © i do NOT give permission for my work or ideas to be used, rewritten, or reposted!

[spencewalterreid]

If "I Love You" Was A Promise

Summary: Your mind has been unkind to you as of late, and Spencer picks up on it. He comes over to try to get you to open up.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN reader

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: very self-deprecating, physical abuse if you squint (reader shoves Spencer), mean!reader but they don't mean it, mental breakdown (like... total meltdown), yelling, no use of y/n, Spencer being a sweetie, I think that's it.

Word count: 3k

Author's Note: I truly do love me some angsty angst. I've been going through a gloomy patch recently and wanted to just write a super self-indulgent comfort fic. enjoy enjoy enjoy

You met Spencer a few months ago at a bookstore and you were quick friends. He’s brilliant, great to talk with, and you like a lot of the same media. However, he also happens to be an FBI profiler, which means he thinks he knows everything about everyone all of the time. You’re getting pretty fucking sick of it. He noticed oh-so-astutely that you were going through some shit, and asked under the cover of a movie night to accompany you to your house. Blindingly naive, you agreed. That’s how you ended up in front of him in a heated argument about your current state of mind.

"I don't know what you want from me, Reid! This isn't any of your goddamn business. Just because I've been distracted doesn't mean you need to give me a fucking house call!" you shout, your hands pulling at your hair to ground yourself. "This has nothing to do with you."

Spencer held up his hands in a placating gesture, his voice calm and measured as he responded. "Okay, let's take a deep breath. I'm not trying to overstep any boundaries here."

He studied your body language intently - the way your hands gripped your hair, the tension in your shoulders. The distraction, the frustration, it was all rooted in something deeper, something that had nothing to do with their current argument.

"Tell me this," Spencer said, his tone gentle yet firm, "is there a pattern to these distractions? Have they been getting worse over time?" He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked onto yours. "Sometimes, it helps to talk things out with someone else. And right now, I'm here to listen."

Spencer was acutely aware of the small, cluttered apartment around him – the scattered books and papers on the coffee table, the faint smell of coffee that lingered in the air. He used the familiarity of the space to center himself, to keep his focus on understanding the root of your distress.

"I'm not here to judge or criticize," he assured you, his voice low and soothing. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

In that moment, Spencer's mind raced with possibilities, trying to piece together what the hell your problem was. Was this distraction tied to a past trauma, a family issue, or something else entirely? As an FBI profiler, he knew that the key to understanding a person's behavior lay in their history, their experiences, their upbringing.

"Talk to me," Spencer encouraged gently, his tone warm yet authoritative. "I'm here to listen. Please?" He held out his hand, a silent offer, and waited for you to open up to him. Yeah, right.

"God, stop being so fucking you for a minute!" you stomp up to him, about 2 feet away, and shove at his chest. "Act like a goddamn human, for once in your life! Would it kill you? Huh?"

Spencer stumbled back from the sudden shove, caught off guard by the contact. His heart raced as he felt the warmth of your hands against his chest, the bloom of dull pain. He was shocked. No one had ever laid hands on him like that before, no one he cared about at least, and especially not you.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to process the surge of emotions that flooded through him. If the breath was meant to keep tears at bay too, then maybe you didn’t need to know that.

"I... I know I'm not always easy to understand," Spencer said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know your mind works differently than most people's. But I'm trying... I'm trying to be here for you, in whatever way I can."

"Stop it!" you shout. "Stop trying to be unaffected. Stop trying to act like my fucking therapist, because you aren't! You... Don't... Know.. Me." you pause between each word, your finger in his face. "Stop trying to fucking profile me. Act like you have any sort of goddamn emotion, for once in your life!"

Spencer flinched as if struck, your finger hovering inches from his face. The harsh words hung heavy in the air between you, a bitter sting he couldn't shrug off like he might an insult from a suspect.

For just a moment, he faltered. He knows he's insecure, it's one of his biggest flaws, but he thinks maybe right now he should be. Maybe he's stepped too far. Maybe this isn't his place.

He shrugs that off just as soon as it comes. This is more important than being polite.

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your frustration, your anger, your desperation. It was raw, visceral, a maelstrom of emotion he struggled to comprehend. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and wrapped his hand around your wrist, gently lowering your finger from his face.

"You're right," he said, his voice low. "I'm not your therapist. I'm not perfect.”

He paused, words careful with his gaze locked onto yours. "But know this... I care about you. More than I can express. And I'm trying.”

Spencer's other hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over the heated skin. "I may not always show it in ways you expect... but I do have feelings. This isn’t fair, you have to know that.” His eyes brim with unshed tears, as if pleading with you to apologize. He sincerely doubted he'd get that, at least right now.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Tell me what you need. Tell me how to do this, because I’m at a loss.”

"Stop it! Stop, stop, stop!" you scream, pounding at his chest once more before turning to dig your fingernails into your scalp. "God, you're such a fucking asshole! You don't have a goddamn clue what you're talking about. You've only known me for a couple of months! You couldn't possibly-" your voice catches in your throat, but you choke down a sob. You couldn't possibly love me. You firmly remind yourself he did not say that. Why would he?

Spencer stumbled back, his stomach and a twist and head spinning as he absorbed the brutal impact of your fists against his chest. He tries to keep in mind that you aren’t trying to hurt him, you’re just overwhelmed. He’s having a hard time believing it.

He reached out, trying to grab your wrists to still your frantic movements. But you wrenched away, pacing the small room like a caged animal. Spencer stood frozen, watching the scene in front of him, cinematic in its drama.

"Just because I haven't known you long doesn't mean I don't care about you," he interjects, voice tensely controlled. "You don't get to tell me what I feel or don't feel."

He took a step closer, then another, until he stood behind you. Gently, carefully, he placed his hands on your shoulders, warmth seeping into your tight muscles.

"I can't pretend to know everything you've been through. I can't claim to understand what you're going through, especially 'cuz you won't tell me anything," he sighs. "But I see you, or I'm at least trying to. I see the strength in you, the resilience, the courage.” His fingers tighten minimally in support, pausing a moment. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be damned if I let you face this alone."

That did it.

One sentence, and the dam is breaking. Months of grief, loneliness, and a lifetime of being a last priority come crashing into you all at once. Your knees buckle at the weight of it as sobs wrench your body. "Get out," you demand, but your hands wrap firmly around his arms. "Get out. Please." You shake your head. "Please, Spencer, go home." You press back into him, curling into his warmth. "You're such a fucking dick."

Spencer held on tighter, holding you up with a grip around your waist.

"Okay," he murmured. "Okay, I'll go. If that's what you need."

But he didn't let go. He couldn't. Not yet. Not until he knew you were steady. Not until he knew, without a doubt, that you meant it.

"Tell me this first," he pleaded softly, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. "Tell me you know you're not alone. That you have someone in your corner, no matter what."

His arms tightened, a silent vow. "I know we're not close, I know I'm not always the easiest person to deal with. But I'm trying. I'm trying to be what you need me to be."

He stood there, holding you through your sobs. It impressed you, the resolve of him. It impressed you that he didn’t get pissed, as much as you wanted him to. You aren’t used to gentleness. You’d rather fight than stand in front of someone who’ll just let you cry.

The wails leaving your throat embarrass the living shit out of you, and you know tomorrow you'll hate yourself for it, but right now you’re grateful. "I'm sorry," you cry. "I'm so sorry. So sorry, Spencer." You empty your lungs completely with your sobs, then refill them just to empty them again. "I hate you. I hate you," you repeat, holding his arms with a bruising grip as he gently lowers you onto the floor despite his unrelenting germaphobia. He winces. "I hate you."

The mindfulness applied was the kind he usually reserved for crime scenes. He sat behind you, cradling your trembling body against his chest, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You don't need to apologize. You don't need to hate anything right now except maybe the hand dealt to you."

He rocked you gently, matching the rhythm of your ragged breaths. "I know you're hurting. I know it’s confusing. But please, don't hate yourself for feeling. Don't hate yourself for needing someone to be here for you."

Spencer's hand slid up to cup your cheek, tilting your face towards his. He thumbed away the tears that fell in steady streams, his own eyes a pool of their own. "Hate me if you need to. I can take it. I can take anything, as long as you're not hating yourself. None of this is your fault."

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. "You're allowed to feel. You're allowed to break. You're allowed to scream and cry and rage until you have nothing left. And I'll be right here, picking up the pieces, gluing you back together.” He pulled back just enough to watch you for a moment, your cheeks burning ever hotter. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Your breath catches on a hiccup. "Don't say that," you beg. "Please," you sob. "Don't you say that to me. You don't know me, Reid." your voice is totally wrecked, you sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "You don't know what you're saying, you-" your breath catches, then another, then another, and then before you know it you’re hyperventilating.

What you didn’t say was, when you say it out loud, it becomes a promise. What you didn’t say was, I trust you. To say that is to make a promise you will not keep. To say that is to promise to break my trust. What you didn’t say was, To say that is to lie.

Spencer felt a surge of panic as your breathing grew rapid and shallow, your body shaking violently in his arms. He tightened his grip, a fierce, protective hold, as if he could physically keep you anchored. A folly effort, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

"Hey, hey, slow down," he urged, his voice calm and steady despite the fear gripping his heart. "You're okay, you're safe. I've got you."

He slid his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, tilting your head down towards your knees. "That's it, just like that. Breathe with me. In and out. Slow and steady."

"Don't- don't- don't- d-" You tremble like a fucking leaf. Pathetic. You try to calm down enough to say this because you know it needs to be said: "Don't make- make- don't make pr- promi- promises you ca- can't- can't keep."

Spencer’s heart drops. What did he do wrong?

He didn’t quite know what to say, but he made an effort anyway. "You need to breathe, sweetheart. You need to breathe through this, one breath at a time.”

You lean down to softly press your lips against his hand, still shivering. Shaking. "I'm so sorry," you whisper. "I'm sorry. This is so pathetic."

"Hey, hey, none of that," Spencer soothed, turning your face towards his. He brushed away a lingering tear with his thumb, his gaze locked onto your red-rimmed eyes. "Being human isn't pathetic. Feeling, caring, needing... that's what makes you beautifully, perfectly human."

The smile on his face is sad, but genuine. He lays his hand on the side of your head, dragging a thumb across your temple. “I'm here because I want to be. Because I choose to be. Your strength and your vulnerability, they're a part of what draws me to you. Never apologize for being who you are."

"Can you stay?" you whisper feebly. "I mean, you don't-" you hiccup. "Don't feel pressured, of course. You know what?" You force a smile, which appears hopelessly pathetic considering the salt stains marring your cheeks. "I'm actually okay. I'm so okay. You can go home, Spencer. Go get some rest. Sorry." You move to get up, but his hold tightens. He mets your gaze, his voice low and firm. "No. I'm not going anywhere. I told you... I'm staying right here, with you."

He adjusted your position, lying down and gathering you fully into his arms, holding you close against his chest. "Rest now," he murmured, stroking your hair. "I'll be here when you wake up." Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

You chuckle without any meaning. "Spencer, no. Not on the hardwood floor," you say apologetically, sitting up. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch. C'mon, get up."

Spencer reinforced his embrace, not letting you pull away as he sat up slowly. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the last of their tears. "I'm not leaving you alone. End of discussion."

He stood, pulling you up with him, then guided you down the hallway, to your bedroom, then to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. Spencer's arm remained wrapped around your shoulders, a constant, comforting presence.

"I'll sleep here, with you. I won't leave your side." His voice softened, a gentle caress. "Please don't ask me to go, not now. I need to be here for you.”

"Spence-"

"No," he interjects. "No. Lay down. I'm gonna get you some water, I'll be right back."

He pats the bed behind you. Sluggish, you settle back into the plush mattress, encircling yourself in the comforter, dragging it right up to the bottom of your chin. You huff.

Spencer returned a moment later, a glass of water in hand. He set it on the bedside table and looked down at you, sympathy written all over him as he observed your closed eyes and the way you had curled in on yourself, still sniffling in the aftershocks.

Gently, he sat on the edge of the bed, his weight causing it to dip slightly. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your cheek. You felt warm, almost feverish.

"Hey, sweetheart..." Spencer's voice was soft, almost a whisper. He leaned in closer, his breath ruffling the hair he had just smoothed. "I know you're not asleep."

His hand slid down to your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?" Spencer's words were gentle, a nudging request. Not a demand. Never a demand. He wanted to know you were okay, but he wouldn't force it out of you. If you were going somewhere dark, he wanted to follow you with a flashlight in hand, but only if you'd let him.

"Go to bed, Spencer."

Spencer's brow furrowed, stubbornness hard-set on his face. He didn't move from his perch on the edge of the bed, his hand still resting firmly on your shoulder.

"No. You can’t go to bed feeling like this. It could cause nightmares, increased cortisol levels, and I know you’ll have a headache in the morning if you don’t drink water." He took a deep breath, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your shoulder. "Please, talk to me. Let me help carry this burden with you. I'm stronger than I look, I promise."

You smile, your eyes still closed. "You look plenty strong," you reply. "Please, go to sleep. I'm tired."

Spencer's eyes narrowed, not convinced. “Look at me. Please." When you didn't immediately comply, he gently squeezed your shoulder. “I know you're hurting, and I know you’re tired, but you can’t end the night like this.”

He paused, his posture wilting in his frustration.

You open your eyes and roll onto your back. "Drop it, Reid. It's late, I just cried my fucking eyes out, I want to go to bed. Now, either lay your pretty ass down, or go sleep on the couch."

Spencer studied your face, trying to settle the odds with himself. Accepting defeat, he finally relented with a soft sigh. "Fine.”

He slipped off his shoes and climbed into bed beside you, being mindful not to jostle you. Settling onto his back, he turned to face you, a gentle hand coming to rest on your waist. "Goodnight," he murmured, eyes already heavy with fatigue. "Sleep well."

"Can I-" You turn toward him, but shut your mouth before you ask. "Nevermind. Goodnight."

Spencer felt you shift, turning to face him. “No, what were you going to say?”

You hum, trying to decide how to phrase it. “It was nothing.”

“Here,” he offers, lifting the arm nearest you, inviting you to curl into him. He’s always so observant. Despite your thus-short friendship, he knew exactly what you wanted. You complied.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he repeated, his hand on your waist giving a gentle, comforting squeeze. "I'll be right here when you wake."

[revelboo]

oof ouch ough that angst HURT please madam i'm begging you don't make that canon i'm gonna puke if i have to watch all the idw bots suffer like that - oh god and the tiny baby newsparks would be doomed, either their carriers will die trying to sustain them or they'll fade away, i hate it!!!!

you even used my suggestion of kitten-twins against me... ow. to heal my heart, may i request more of cyclonus and tailgate? hopefully their human's fear will fade into numbness then acceptance quickly, it'll be hard to stay in hypervigilant prey mode when tailgate's doting on reader like a little princess.

Yeah, that angst fic isn’t cannon. I like drama, but I couldn’t actually do that to any of them.

Chain Me Free Pt 3

Tailgate x Reader x Cyclonus

• The terror had faded some after seeing the smaller robot monster, Tailgate you remind yourself, have a nervous breakdown because you were upset. That uneasy fear is still there, nerves jangling, but Tailgate seems bent on overwhelming you with attention until you’re too frazzled to be terrified. You half suspect he’s decided you’re either his personal teddy bear or a beloved puppy. Neither prospect particularly awesome. Legs swinging as you hang on to the arm around your middle tucking you against his frame while he jogs to keep up with the scary one’s, Cyclonus’s, longer stride. Though after watching him calming Tailgate and talking him through what you’re positive was a panic attack, you suspect he’s probably a big softy. Even if he spends a lot of time just frowning at you, they’ve yet to hurt you. That has to be a good sign.

• “Cyclonus, wait up.” Reaching out his free hand, he catches Cyclonus’s hand and the bigger mech finally slows down for him. Interlacing his servos with Cyclonus’s, he shifts you to settle on his hip, feeling those warm hands on his arm. “How are they supposed to get their bearings if you go through the ship so fast?” Can feel your little heart beating against him, the rhythm oddly soothing. Knows Cyclonus is annoyed with him, wanted to give you to someone else, but you’d come to him. Them. And he can’t believe that it was truly random, wants it to be more than a coincidence. That you’re meant to be with them.

• “If you ever let them actually walk, they’ll probably get under ped,” he mutters, feeling Tailgate’s servos tighten on his own in offense. You’re not screaming at least, just dangling and looking around with an almost dazed expression. Still in shock over finding yourself in a strange place among aliens. Feels sorry for you, but he has enough to deal with taking care of Tailgate. Doesn’t need an alien stray.

• “Being small doesn’t automatically make someone a burden,” Tailgate growls, shifting you on his hip again. Like you’re a toddler and his grip is much too tight. Looking around, you feel almost numb, because his rambling explanation had only made things worse. You’re on a ship in space hurtling away from your home and they don’t know when they’ll be able to get you back. They also can’t fully explain how you’d ended up here, your brain filing his excited jabbering under ‘magic.’ And you tense when you see an even bigger gray mech, but it’s the glimpse of a human cradled in his palm, holding onto his servos as he cups them to his chassis that startles you. That person smiling up at the giant and laughing at something he’s said before spotting you and waving with a grin. And they seem okay. That more than anything else breaks through the lingering fear as your own hand weakly lifts, then they’re gone, carried away by their mech.

• “I’m not going to run if you let me walk,” you say, head turning to look at him and Tailgate hesitates. Because as much as he hates it, Cyclonus has a point. Not all the bots on board remember to look down and you’re tiny. Much smaller than he is. “You’re squishing me a bit,” you add, expression pinched and he stops in dismay, awkwardly shuffling you until one of his arms is behind your back and the other behind your knees. “This works,” you murmur and you offer him a hesitant smile that spreads warm through him as he ignores Cyclonus’s tired venting.

Previous

[currentfandomkick]

Is it bad i kind of want Jazz to drag everyone else attempting serious calls to the JL into a meeting and they straight up send a whole video with evidence only for it to end with her parents breaking in, a lot of ‘fucking Fenton adults’ commentary the cameras caught with her parents shooting and it Clearly Injuring Someone (i’m thinking second degree burns minimum) with Jazz snapping at her parents?

Maybe have Dash snag the camera and dropping it as ‘hi Phantom!’ Fanboy kicks in as Phantom is seen shushing a glowing green… tank sized angry dog, clearly trying to separate Floating Meta from the Fenton Parents.

Phantom is seen getting said pooch to chill out, shrink down and carried around like a purse dog while Phanton is shushing the pup with baby talk and asking why this many people are here.

Dash just says ‘oh, Jazz wanted to try and get you help for the ghosts and the hunters after you.’

Phantom, humming. ‘That would require them to use their brain. Yes it would, and if they call reports pranks, then they pranks! Yes they do!’

‘… does this have something to do with the scary clock guy screaming about ‘the Allen line is a blight to his existence and stories’ last week?’

‘Eh? One of us tries to respect privacy, and we all know clocky’s biggest rivals in voyuerism is the eyeball brigade.’

‘Tried to End you again?’

‘You’d think after the fifth failed assassination, they’d stop, ya know? hey, i gotta go before Red comes for Cujo—let me know how this pans out—are they threatening to make the town hop dimensions. Again?’

Dash turning the camera to the Fenton Parents being scolded by a pissed off Jasmine Fenton.

“And another thing! All future dimensions hops are to be cleared by the town or Phantom in an emergency!”

“Must i be a part of your mortal family drama?”

“Yes!” “No!” “Spook!”

“Yeah, i’m dipping. Tell Danny the upgrades worked like a charm on the thermos!”

“Wait a minute—give that to me! Technus right?”

“…yes and you are not giving him to Foley again. I don’t care about the bet and fifty years of service, that can be done after death and when this guy is not trying to take over the internet the wrong way. Go viral like the rest of us and then i’ll leave him to it.”

“No, if we send him in the thermos to the JLA maybe they can help!”

“No, they made their bed. If they want pranks, they will be gifted pranks. Maybe they’ll realize we aren’t lying. Or not—other than a few assholes things are mostly under casual chaos and frankly i dont want whatever the GIW got going on to spread, ya know?”

“Phantom i can and will tell Sam.”

“And? She’s liminal and not suicidal.”

“She is murder-y,” Dash muttered under his breath.

“About why you can understand animals?”

“Here’s the thermos, i am keeping my dog and please leash the town’s pet mad occulists.”

“Scientists!”

“You’re too colorful for science. Plus i have seen the wards on your home.”

“They never hurt to add!” jack yelled at Phantom flew off. “Now Jazzy-pants, give us the ghost!”

“Nope. This is for the JLA. He should arrive in a week, his name is Technus and he is a ghost that likes to try taking over the world in a looneytunes fashion mostly as he likes finding new ways to use technology. If you need to, trap him in a glitch and call Danny Fenton. Phantom likes to steal his phone.”

“He does what!”

“I told you to just get Phantom a second line. Its not his fault he’s an alternate Danny that died.”

“Phatom is WHAT!”

End of video.

JL member watching did flag it as possible worry.

Booster and Ted Kord see it and go ‘ph, that’s a Baby Danny Schordinger. He shows up at the Time Police’s place on occasion to yell at us and other agents. What do you mean he’s a prank? He mostly calls everyone out on an embodiment of Timelines’s behalf and delivers lectures for it. What do you mean—what do you mean prank calls?’

Like let these two be the ones to connect dots and poke the JLD with ‘so an embodiment of the timeline has this kid we call Danny Schrödinger. He may have called for help with his non-existent town. Which may have been dropped into out universe and timeline or be a pocket dimension city—unclear—but uh. Ghosts are involved. And the JL now has a ghost in a thermos on the space station. Help.’

The Justice League originally got a ton of emergency calls and emails from Amity Park: a town that doesn't currently exist on any sort of database, record set, and can't be traced at all. So the JL decides to ignore them.

This turns out to be a bad decision because now the calls and emails (including personal contact info) turned into a never ending, untraceable virus of a white haired teenagers parody of Rick Astleys Never Gonna Give You Up.

[beneathsilverstars]

i keep adding things to this one post and then realizing they'd make more sense as a separate post. so here's how the party explained what happened in dagger ending au to bonnie:

Siffrin was very sad and worried about everyone leaving, because he was alone before he met us and he didn't want to be alone again. But he didn't talk about it because we all had plans that seemed very important, and he didn't want to get in the way, and he didn't want to admit that he didn't have anything else to do. It sounds pretty silly when you put it like that, but the rest of us were nervous to admit how much we cared about each other, too! Sometimes it's hard to tell someone how important they are to you, if you don't know whether you're important to them.

During the quest it was okay, because Siffrin knew we would stay together until Vaugarde was saved. But getting to Dormont meant the quest was almost over, and they got so upset at the idea of everyone leaving, that they didn't really care about what they were doing. Why did it matter what happened to them, when they were going to be sad and alone tomorrow either way? So they weren't very careful while they were training, and they got hurt. Luckily Odile saw, and Mirabelle healed them right up.

Now, he's really glad that we all decided to stay together longer! But he might still feel worried for a while, because it's hard to believe that everyone isn't leaving, after he's been dreading it for so long. And sometimes when you're sad for a long time, your brain just tries to keep being sad even when there isn't any reason to be. But if we keep reminding him that we love him just as much as he loves us, it'll start to stick in his brain better! We might also need to remind him to be careful and take care of himself, because that can be hard to remember when you're sad. And while he practices that, we can help take care of him, too!

[fanfic-obsessed]

Rebellion of the bats

Ok, here’s another one that’s going to get a little wacky. As a reminder never look for canon here, for I do not know her. 

We are going to start today's madness with some build up before the main event. It is important to me that you understand that in this one, Tim Drake does not take after Bruce Wayne. Tim Drake takes after Alfred (feral planners, whose truest love and calling is to care for their loved ones, coated in a veneer of respectability). In fact it is Alfred who teaches Bruce how to prepare for any eventuality. 

And the Tim of this universe is prepared for any eventuality. Including having a plan for ‘Jason has come back from the dead, has been lied to, appears to hate the family, and is trying to attack me for taking Robin’.  So Jason attacks Titan’s Tower and is very surprised to find that, instead of beating up Robin, he finds himself being dragged back to that Manor by an excited Tim Drake (No matter how long or short after the fact, Jason is still not sure how they got from Jason wanting to beat up a teen to being convinced to come home). 

Jason, Dick, and Bruce all bond over the abrupt realization that Alfred and Tim are absolutely feral and that if either decided to go rogue the universe was screwed.  They also realize that it is part of their Vigilante assigned duty to keep Both Tim and Alfred from needing to take over the world.

This helps stabilize the relationships among the Batfam, this common goal.  So by the time Damian arrives, their relationships are much stronger. Bruce, Dick, Steph, Cass, and Jason each try to talk Damian out of his assassination attempts (more for Damian’s health than Tims). Tim, because Damian is now his brother and is 10 years old, allows Damian two assaination attempts without consequence. Damian’s third, and final,  attempt ended with a finger broken on Damian’s non-dominant hand…and no proof that Tim caused it. 

Because of this stronger, more stable relationship Tim was actually able to pass Robin on to Damian before the Darksied happened. Tim took up Red Robin with Jason’s approval. 

Darksied sends Bruce on his bounce through time. There are still rumblings of what could become a war for the cowl (including Cass, this time because grief can do weird things to people and I think she should get to throw her hand into the ring), but instead Tim finds the clues Bruce had been leaving. And this is where the biggest departure comes. 

Because all of the Bats are there, and they believe Tim. They have no reason not to (I will get to that in just a minute). In fact, they all treat this revelation as a relief and begin to work out a schedule for keeping up the Batman pretense until Bruce can be retrieved. 

Dick as Batman goes to the Justice League (during a JL meeting) with the news that Bruce is lost in time, and they need substantial Justice League resources (and realistically it would need to be substantial and/or unique resources, or Tim would have used WE industries or his own resources) to retrieve him. And look, Dick looked at none of Tim’s evidence so when asked how the Bats know, Dick as Batman answers immediately with ‘Oh, Red Robin said’. 

The other members of the Justice League glanced at each other. It is Diana that very gently brings up that Wonder Girl had told her that Red Robin had been very intent on cloning Superboy, trying to avoid outright saying that it seemed like Tim might have lost touch with reality in his grief. Everyone very kindly ignored Superman’s flinch at the mention of both his dead mentee and cloning. 

The Justice League gets to watch as Dick misses the point so completely that they can practically see it over the pointy ears of his cowl.  He actually perks up and goes ‘Oh yeah, he mentioned having Ivy check over his methodology for that. She said it looked good but her specialty is plant genetics’. Like that is not an objectively insane thing to say. 

From Dicks, and in fact most if not all people who spend enough time in Gotham, perspective Tim was not insane for his attempts to clone Conner. He had a plan to mitigate harm for innocents (potentially viable clones who were not Conner), was not attacking/involving other people, had another affiliated expert look at his work before he pushed the big red button, and he even stopped when it was pointed out that it would have been against Conner wishes. To a Gothamite that means Tim is practically reasonable in his 99 attempts to clone Conner. 

The Justice League can only conclude, after some carefully phrased questions, that the Batfam have unfortunately lost touch with reality due to grief, understandable grief but also very out of touch. Dick does not realize this is what is being thought, as he is just so relieved that they are on track to get Bruce back that he does not hear the incredulity in the questions, until a majority vote rejects the use of JL resources for the purpose of searching for the former Batman in time (it should be noted that The Flash-Barry- and Superman both voted to try. Diana abstained).  

We are going with the idea that it is more than just massive resources or expertise that the JL would provide, but some resource, item, or device, that is unique to the Justice League that cannot be procured by any individual member. 

So Dick has to go back to 3 family members (Jason, Cass, Damian) who have all had significant exposure to Lazarus water, which is known for emotional outburst overriding common sense, Steph the daughter of a supervillain (Arthur Brown may have been a d rate supervillain, he was still a supervillain), Barbara the all knowing Oracle (whose morals have adjusted to working with former Rogues) and her cadre of Birds of Prey, and possibly the 2 most frightening people on the planet (Tim and Alfred) with the news that the JL will not help them. This is also Dick, whose anger issues and need for revenge built Robin. 

The only restriction that Dick manages to get them all to agree on is that they will not make trouble for Superman, Flash, or Wonder Woman (Jason throwing his own support in no trouble for Diana). Then, with full and loving knowledge of what he was doing, Dick set them all loose upon the world (making it clear to the JL that Bruce is the only one who could reign them in). 

It takes six weeks before the decision to help find Bruce and retrieve him from the timestream is approved. In that time:

Cass and Steph become the rulers of a small country, ruling with an iron fist but enough morals that most of the populace loved them. 

Jason, with the Outlaws, managed to take out the League of Assassins (and incidentally managed to humiliate not one but three different Green Lanterns, mostly by accident). 

Damian met, became offended by, and dismantled a faux government organization in the midwest in possibly the most attention attacking way he could. 

Oracle wrote and released a highly tailored virus that released random ‘scandalous but not overall dangerous’ secrets on a schedule for every politician in the world. Her Birds of Prey kept Gotham running, along with Batman!Dick. At some point during this time the Joker ended up dead, but no one is admitting to who did.

Tim and Alfred did indeed become a major world power within the first three weeks. It wasn’t until week four that they gained nuclear power status, but quickly had a seat offered to them at the UN. They had just started considering if they should be expanding into the reaches of space when the JL capitulated. 

Bruce is brought back into a world where his kids are more feared than he is.

[slcmml]

tech support! charlie & reader — you turn my software into hardware.

you hate making phone calls.

absolutely despise it, actually. something about talking to a stranger, especially for customer support, makes your skin crawl. but your laptop is acting up, and after scouring the internet for a solution and coming up empty handed, you seemingly have no other choice. so, you dial the number, swallow your nerves, and wait.

“hello! this is charlie from tech co’s customer support! how can i help you today?”

you weren’t expecting the voice on the other end to sound so… cute?

it’s warm, gentle, and just a little scratchy, like he’s been talking all day but still has patience to spare. suddenly, making this phone call doesn’t seem like the worst thing in the world.

“hi, um. yeah. my laptop isn’t working? i mean, obviously, that’s why i’m calling, but, uh, it won’t turn on, and i have no idea why.”

“gotcha! let’s see if we can get that fixed for you!”

his voice is so reassuring you almost forget you’re actually supposed to be fixing something.

he walks you through the steps, patient as ever while you fumble through them. when you press the wrong button, he gently corrects you. when you let out a frustrated groan, he laughs—not in a mean way, but like he finds you endearing. and god, it makes your stomach do a little flip.

“it’s okay, take your time! i’m here to help, promise.”

and help he does.

except at some point, your laptop starts working again, but you don’t want tell him.

“huh? still not working? that’s weird.”

you lie straight through your teeth just to keep talking to him. it’s shameless, really, but you don’t even care. he’s kind, patient, and his voice is the nicest thing you’ve heard all day. so you keep up the act just a little longer, drawing out the conversation until there’s truly nothing left to say.

“well, i’m glad i could help! and if you need anything else, you know where to call.”

oh, you do. and you’re already thinking about it.

“you’ve been super helpful, by the way,” you say, hesitating just a little before asking, “um, what’s your name? so i can leave a good review?”

“oh! yeah, of course. it’s charlie.”

charlie. yeah, that suits him.

“thanks, charlie. i really appreciate it.”

“anytime.”

—

you call back the next day.

you shouldn’t. there is no reason to. your laptop is fine, perfectly fine, but—

“hello! tech support, how can i help you?”

your heart sinks for a second before you realize it’s not charlie.

“oh, um,” you stammer, scrambling for an excuse. “i, uh, had an issue with my laptop the other day, and i wanted to follow up? i think the guy who helped me was named charlie?”

“oh, charlie! yeah, give me a sec, i’ll transfer you over.”

your stomach does a whole flip before you hear the click of the line transferring.

“hello?”

oh, thank god.

“hey, charlie,” you say, and you hope he doesn’t hear the stupid little smile in your voice. “it’s me. again.”

“oh, hey! did something go wrong with your laptop?”

“yeah, it’s, uh. still kinda acting up.”

lie.

“oh no,” he says, immediately concerned. “what’s it doing now?”

you make something up on the spot, some vague, convoluted problem that doesn’t actually exist, but he still goes along with it. walks you through another set of steps, laughs ok when you struggle, and just—keeps talking to you.

and this time, you swear he’s stalling, too.

—

it becomes a thing. you call every couple of days with some tech issue you made up, and he never questions it, just helps you like normal and talks to you like he’s actually happy to hear your voice. (spoilers: he is)

until the one time you say, “ugh, this laptop hates me,” and he hums thoughtfully before going, “you know, for a laptop that’s given you this many problems, you sure seem to like using it.”

does this mean he knows?

“what?” you say, playing dumb.

“i mean, you’ve had, what, like five different issues this week?” he teases. “i’m starting to think you just like calling tech support.”

heat rushes to your face. “okay, first of all,” you say, indignant. “it was three times.”

“mmhm.”

“second of all,” you start, then stop. because what is your second point? that he’s right? that you do like calling tech support? or, more specifically, that you like calling him?

“whatever,” you mumble instead, hoping he can’t hear how flustered you are.

but if the way he’s laughing is any indication, he totally can.

—

a week later, you take it one step further.

you don’t call this time. you show up.

you made a small google search to find the address of tech co, the store he works at, before stepping inside with a mix of excitement and nerves buzzing under your skin. you don’t even know what he looks like, but somehow, you just know when you see him.

he’s standing behind the counter, light brown hair, slightly messy, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms. he’s cuter than you imagined—not just cute, but like, unfairly pretty. and when his eyes meet yours, shining with kindness, you know you made the right call.

“hi,” you say, leaning onto the counter.

“hey,” he says back, smiling. “fancy seeing you here.”

“yeah, well. my laptop broke again,” you say, suppressing a grin.

he raises an eyebrow. “oh, did it now?”

“yeah.. completely fried. tragic, really.”

“oh, so tragic,” he echoes, playing along.

you both know you’re full of shit. neither of you really care.

“so,” he leans in just a little, resting his arms on the counter, closer to you. “now that i’ve seen you in person, should i expect more tech issues? or was this a one time thing?”

you laugh, feeling a little bold. “you think i’d come to your job just to say it’s a ‘one time thing’?”

“i hope not,” he says with a slightly nervous smile.

your heart flips. he’s so cute.

“well, it’s not,” you say, mustering all your courage. “‘cause, you know, i’ve got a real issue that could use your help.”

his grin widens. “mmhm. and what would that be?”

“i need your number. y’know, in case of emergency. i mean, what if my laptop explodes?”

he blinks.

then he laughs—soft, surprised, pleased—before pulling a receipt from the register and scribbling something on it.

when he slides it over, his fingers brush yours, and you think, yeah. totally worth it.

© slcmml

[reginaphalangelobster125]

Warm

Logan x X-Men!Reader

Summary: You and Logan get back from a tough mission and things take a turn.

Warnings: swearing, description of blood and stabbing, no smut hot making out, sarcasm, teasing jokes, no use of Y/n

Word Count: 1.7k

You and Logan practically dragged yourselves through the door. You had just gotten back from an overly complicated mission. It was meant to be an in and out situation but not much goes as it's meant to when you're X-Men. You both dropped your bags at the door and looked up the stairs. After the day you'd have neither of you could even contemplate climbing that many stairs so you headed for the lounge room. Logan flopped on the couch and dragged you down with him. You were pretty close friends but this was different. You didn't know what exactly was happening.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?" He said, very gruffly.

"What um, Whatcha doing?"

"Sleepin', you?"

"Same"

You decided to just settle into the situation as you were too tired to protest. You stayed like that for a few hours, just lying together, close. You felt his firm, warm body under yours and that lulled you into a soft, comfortable slumber. You both fell asleep pretty quickly but you were woken up by a strange sensation in your abdomen. You weren't sure what it was for a moment, it felt cold and smooth until it was suddenly warmer, much warmer. You only realised what it was when Logan's scream jolted you back to reality. You realised that hit claws were deep inside you, the cold feeling of the adamantium and the warm feeling of blood, lots of your blood, pooling between the two of you.

"Lo-Logan?" You whispered shakily.

He looked down to see his first covered in blood and his claws, protruding from your back. His whole world shattered for just a moment. He was sure his heart was about to beat straight out of his chest. He could feel the hot trickle of your blood going from his hand, down onto his chest, soaking his shirt. He looked into your eyes and saw tears pricking at the sides, your beautiful eyes were like this because of him. He saw the blood gargling up your throat and he saw it start to dribble out of your mouth. His own eyes were glassy and all he could see were flashes of red, blurring across his vision. He stammered, trying to say something, at this point anything, but he couldn't he just sat there in shock with his claws all the way through you. He watched as your eyes began to glaze over and your head lowered. The grip you had on his other hand was limp. You were dead. You were dead and he killed you.

He had killed so many people before but this was different, this was you. He started to cry, something he hadn't done in decades. Your body was hanging, limp, on his claws and he cried. He cried over you and that made your lips turn up in a small smile. You raised your head and looked at him. It wasn't enjoyable seeing him like this, it was awful, but you took some comfort in the fact that when you died he was sad, when you died he cared. You raised a hand to cup his cheek and he almost jumped off the couch. He was shocked that you were alive, you weren't, you just died, in his arms. But somehow you were alive and he was overjoyed.

"H-w-hu-How?!"

"I'm immortal you idiot"

"WHAT?!"

"Oh honey, I thought you knew"

"I FUCKING DID NOT!"

You smiled more and let out a small laugh.

"Oh, so this is fucking funny to you?!"

You laughed harder "Y-Yes!"

He began to laugh a little too, maybe because he was a bit hysterical but who's to say.

"You mind, you know, snickt?"

"Did you just say snickt?"

"Yeah, the claws?"

"Oh, I got it. But snickt?"

"Can we maybe have this conversation when they're not through me?"

"Oh, yeah, sure"

He retracted his claws with a 'snickt' sound. You fell onto him and he wrapped his arms around you.

"Thanks"

"Thanks? I just stabbed you"

"Yeah, I know. I was there"

"Well why thanks?"

"You cried"

"I did not"

"Yes you did"

"Nope"

"I was here Logan. You thought I was dead and you cried, you cried because you love me" You teased in a sing-song way.

"I don't love you"

"Oh! Harsh!"

"You know what I mean"

"Yeah, yeah, denial"

"What?"

"Nothing, so, snickt"

"They don't go snickt"

"They do!"

"They're my claws, I think I know what sound they make"

"Then what sound do they make?"

"Sort of a sni-snu-sh, I don't have to explain my claws to you"

"It's snickt, isn't it?"

"Shut up"

"Yeah, nah. I'd rather not"

"Well when do you ever?"

"Apparently when you stab me?"

He looks at you with a very strange pointed glare.

"What, too soon?"

"Yeah, kinda"

You smile again and put your hands on his chest in an attempt to get up but his grip on you waist tightens.

"Where you going?"

"I thought I'd get another shirt, I think it'll take a little more than club soda to get this out"

He lets you go with a small grumble and you sit up, just staying seated on the couch for a moment.

"What, don't wanna go now?"

"No, just, need a minute" you winced "my organs kind of have to, rearrange themselves, stitch themselves back together, y'know?"

He just looked at you for a moment with a hurt look in his eyes.

"I think you went straight through my spleen, it would explain the bleeding" You said as you placed a hand on your side.

Now that the jokes and sarcasm had stopped he remembered that he really did just stab you and he hated himself. Your gaze turned from your former wound and now just scratch, to Logan. You saw how much it tortured him and you placed an arm around him.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, I've had worse"

"s not that" He barely mumbled.

"Is it because we're close?"

He grumbled softly in the place of a yes.

"Then really don't worry about it"

He looked up at you and raised an eyebrow, questioning you.

"I've known Charles for a long time, like a walking kind of long time and we've had, incidents"

"Incidents?"

"He tried to melt my mind or some shit"

"He what?"

"I don't remember what he called it but it hurt a hell of a lot more than a little stabbing"

"Well I wouldn't say it was little"

"Ugh, men and size"

Logan laughed lightly.

"And it's not just him. Beast mauled me, Erik sent metal bars all through my body-"

"Ooh, he did that to me too"

"Nice, now we can start a club"

"That'd be really fun"

"Hmm, sarcasm is getting kinda obvious now"

"It's late, bite me"

"Ooh! I've been bitten a lot"

"Yeah?"

"Yep, sharks, tigers, lions, wolves, you know I got bitten by a badger once?"

"A badger? That's kinda pathetic?"

"Oh excuse me badger man"

"What?"

"Wait, do you even know what a wolverine is?"

"Scary, lots of teeth, sharp claws"

"Yeah, but it's also basically just a cross between a badger and a ferret"

"Fuck off"

"I'm serious!" You said, although the laughter didn't help your point.

"You're lying"

"Nope! It's really tiny too"

"No it's not"

"Yes it is! Now I have to start calling you Tiny Ferret-Badger"

"If you do I'll stab you, again"

"Aww! Is the tiny ferret-badger trying to be scary?"

"Stop it"

"You're so cute!"

"Stop it, now"

"Who's my little ferret-badger? You are! Yes you are!"

Logan grabbed your arms and pushed you onto your back, positioning himself above you.

"Wanna apologise?"

"I'd rather see where this goes"

You both moved your faces towards each other, agonisingly slow. Your breath quickened as you felt his fanning across your face. Your eyes locked and suddenly you were the only two people in the world. Your lips lightly brushed together, the small tough igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach. A fire that raged harder the more you felt his warm touch. His hand moved up and cupped your cheek while cradling the back of your head. One of your hands flew to his shoulder, squeezing it tightly as the kiss intensified. Your lips moved together in such synchronicity that you thought you must have been made for each other. It soon became a clash of teeth and tongues as your hand moved to his hair. Grabbing at the little ear shapes and pulling them just the right way, the way that had him letting out a low growl that travelled right through you. You let out a soft moan as his hand slid up your torso and under your shirt. He ripped the already torn material off your body and threw it to the side. You started to unbutton his shirt and pull it down his shoulders. You writhed against each other, lips clashing as you gasped for air. You moaned his name and he moaned yours. You were completely caught in each other's warm embrace.

"I don't mean to interrupt but this is public area in a school"

Both of your heads shot up and turned, you hadn't even heard the professor enter the room but there he was.

"Sorry, Charles"

"I understand, just please keep this restricted to your rooms, I don't want the children to be further traumatised"

"Okay, traumatised is a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?"

"If I remember correctly, no"

"Fair enough"

You grabbed Logan's hand and led him upstairs.

"Goodnight"

"Night!"

"Goodnight, professor"

You disappeared down the hallway and to your room.

"What was that about him remembering correctly?"

"I told you, I knew Charles a long time ago"

"Wh-You and-and him?"

"Don't act so surprised, you saw them"

"Them?"

"He and Erik were quite handsome in their day"

"Erik?!"

"Don't be jealous, we'll have our fun"

"Charles and Erik?!"

"You heard me"

"Next thing you'll tell me you fucked Mystique"

"Well....."

"Really?"

"Hey, she can look like anyone. Although, the blue is pretty hot too, works for Kurt"

"Oh my God!"

"Oh please, don't act like you don't get passed around the mansion like a blunt"

"I-Uh, shut up"

"Gladly"

You push him back onto your bed and trail kisses down his chest, leading to a very long night.

Tags:

@thegirlsmorgue @1dluver13xx @beeeoop @waffle-wolf-666 @clownp33 @california-boys-and-sun @starsaroundmyscarsblog @kds1999 @everyonesfriend @lord-starscream @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @karaishotgirl @aliljaybird @burningcatcollectorsblog-blog @summer200baby @hanahaki-garden @dr3adful-lust

[jjjjeonww]

ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) selling my moots!! ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

got tagged by my lovely anna ( @chenlezip ) to sell my moots!!! (please take them. i beg you.) starting off withhhh...🥁🥁🥁!! ⋆˚࿔ @hanniescookie 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... NOT FOR SALE. ( i will never sell my angel/my wife. ) pros: ⭑.ᐟ everything about her. ⭑.ᐟ EVERY. SINGLE. THING. cons: ⭑.ᐟ NONE!!!!!!!!!!!! ⭑.ᐟ i fear she's perfect and ethereal!! (a v good fear.) ⭑.ᐟ i wanna marry her. ⭑.ᐟ ...actually she'd sell every loved one of hers for jeonghan.. ⋆˚࿔ @starstrawb 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... every last cent you have. pros: ⭑.ᐟ does silly dilly willy quizzes w me🤍🤍 ⭑.ᐟ WANTED TO BECOME MY JOSHUJI!!! YAYAYAYYAY!!! ⭑.ᐟ sends me gm and gn texts <3 ⭑.ᐟ will listen to you yap!!! cons: ⭑.ᐟ our timezones. ⭑.ᐟ she's too sweet. it disgusts me. ⋆˚࿔ @gyubakeries 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... $0.99 pros: ⭑.ᐟ CARING AF!!!!! ⭑.ᐟ will listen to you yap pt2 !! ⭑.ᐟ will suddenly drop random lore ONLY if u drop random lore too!! ⭑.ᐟ if she yaps about mingyu, you better drop everything and listen. cons: ⭑.ᐟ will ruin you with her angst! ⭑.ᐟ and her fluff! ⭑.ᐟ SHE GETS A 0.99 ONLY BC OF GLIMPSE OF US GYU. she ruined me my god.

⋆˚࿔ @kwonienana 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... FREE!!! no pros, and no cons. she is available for kidnapping until she releases a part two of unsent!woozi. ⋆˚࿔ @wonkierideul 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... your whole lifespan! pros: ⭑.ᐟ she's a silly willy <3 ⭑.ᐟ literally has the cutest voice !! ⭑.ᐟ SHE'S SUCH A SILLY CUTIEEE ⭑.ᐟ (i love our vms hehe) ⭑.ᐟ the absolute LOVE OF MY LIFE ⭑.ᐟ pls i will never leave kie ever :( cons: ⭑.ᐟ if you have a shitty mic, dont become moots with her. ⭑.ᐟ CALLED MY PERFECTLY FINE CAPABLE GREAT QUALITY MIC SHITTY?!?! ⭑.ᐟ you could be yapping about the most emotional thing and she'd be like "you should hold my toes" ⭑.ᐟ SENT ME A WHOLE PARAGRAPH ABOUT WHY HOLDING TOES IS SO VULNERABLE?????????????? ⭑.ᐟ FORCES ME TO DOWNLOAD APPS?! ⭑.ᐟ secretly rlly freaky (not in THAT way.) ⋆˚࿔ @kissbyoon 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... $979543625045926345923845923475234523452345 pros: ⭑.ᐟ when i slid into her dms SHE MATCHED MY FREAK RIGHT AWAY ⭑.ᐟ a silly willy, just like kie!!! ⭑.ᐟ said the italian language is sexy (yes. thats a pro.) cons: ⭑.ᐟ TRAUMATISED ME WITH A HORRIFYING REEL. (!!!) ⭑.ᐟ would do anything for jeonghan.... ⭑.ᐟ SAID SHE WOULD BLUSH IS JEONGHAN GIVES HER A SIDE EYE?????? ⋆˚࿔ @seokminfilm 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ price ... $21800 pros: ⭑.ᐟ will do any request u ask her too!! ⭑.ᐟ lowk just a chill guy ⭑.ᐟ SHE PUT ME AS ONE OF THE MAIN CHARACTERS IN HER FIC!!! :((((( ⭑.ᐟ (you havent answered my question. was mingyu down bad for yuna or not...) ⭑.ᐟ will make your heart melt!!! cons: ⭑.ᐟ idk man ⭑.ᐟ OH OH OH IDK WHERE MY DOWNBAD DK FIC IS 😀. ⭑.ᐟ yeah thats a con. ⭑.ᐟ giving u the silent treatment btw. ⭑.ᐟ i hope you're RYING right now. ⭑.ᐟ makes fun of my spelling errors.... to all my other moots: IM SORRYYY FOR NOT TAGGING!! maybe i'll do a part two <3!! to my moots i mentioned here: i hope you guys dont mind the tags!! and pls pls pls dont come after me... it was honestly rlly hard to think of cons... my mind was blank cause you all are so perfect!!!

[bringmeanangel]

Spiral

A/n: This is part 2 of One Too Many. One day I'll figure out how to make a masterlist and organize things.

Paring: Spencer and Reader tags/warnings: anxiety attack. spiraling reader. doubting. Overthinking. caring Spencer Reid. extremely irrational thinking. Like totally makes no sense. Good girl is used. Mention of childhood traurma. Synopsis: you tell your mom that your not applying to that job and she gets in your head. Spencer calms you down

You had been feeling better since Spencer helped you the other day. However you went to visit your mom and she asked you if you were applying to the job and you told her no.

The look on her face, made you feel guilty, even though you had nothing to feel guilty about. You told her that you had things lined up and she she reminded you that you didn't apply to any festival that overlapped.

You told her that you applied to others once you found out that you didn't get into the one festival that was hiring. She was letting up and get trying to get you to apply.

She was still unware that you were working on two more applications and you weren't going to tell her.

On your way home, you started to think about everything. How you promised yourself you were going to apply to anything. That you really didn't want this and you knew they weren't going to take you.

That being said, what if you didn't apply to this, maybe it would start some weird cosmic shift and by not applying to this, then the other opportunities wouldn't happen.

You knew that this made no sense at all. That it was irrational thinking, but once the spiral started, you couldn't get out of it.

You entered the apartment, not really paying attention. You dropped your bag and threw your coat on the chair, toeing off your shoes. Spencer called your name, but you didn't hear him.

You made your way to the shared bedroom and grabbed your laptop. You turned and jumped a little bit when your boyfriend was standing there.

"Love, what's going on?" he asked, taking you in.

He furrowed his brow when he saw the despondent look in your eyes. It was like you were looking right through him. He sighed and cupped your face, thumbs rubbing your temples. Your eyes couldn't focus.

"Angel" he cooed, trying to get your attention. "Eyes on me. Look at me, love." your eyes kept shifting around, you let out a small whine. "Can you hear me?" his voice was steady, but he was trying not to sound panicked.

"Mmm" you got out, trying to nod.

"Good. That's good. Can you look at me please?"

Your eyes met his for a second and then darted around again. You gripped tight to your laptop, not wanting to let it go. What was he asking? Oh, right.

You locked eyes with him again, seeing brown eyes softly looking at you. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on his thumbs now massaging your temples.

"Good girl" he spoke quietly, when he felt you relax a bit. "Let's put the laptop down, yeah?" and you nodded, eyes still closed.

With one hand Spencer took your computer and placed it back on the desk. You still kept your arms tight to you, as if you were still holding it.

Spencer firmly wrapped his hands around your wrists. Not tugging your arms, but hoped the pressure would help you let go of the tension. You squeezed your eyes tight. Spencer rested his forehead agaisnt yours.

"You're safe." he spoke.

You opened your eyes, looking down, too embarrassed to look at him. He watched as your shoulders dropped. He reached a hand up and cupped your cheek stroking his thumb against it.

"I spiraled" you whispered.

"Can you tell me why?"

"Well-"

"Are you able to look at me while you do so?" He noticed your lip quiver. "Angel, you don't need to feel ashamed or embarrassed about what just happened. I am here for you. I would never judge."

"Ca-can I not look at you while I tell you?"

"okay, sweetheart"

Spencer listened as you told him everything. He knew that the guilt, was part of a childhood trauma and how ld sometimes your mom would say "If you do this, then I will give you this" So, he could see why this was hard.

"Thank you for telling me that. You still have time to apply, should you choose to do it. However, right now I'm going to help you change into your comfy sweats and I'm going to hold you."

"Thank you" you said barely audible.

"Always."

Spencer lead you over to your bed and undid your jeans and pulled your top off, before helping you out of your pants. He helped you into your sweatpants and grabbed one of his shirts for you to wear.

He turned the heating blanket on and had you crawl under. He then changed into his comfy clothes and got under the covers pulling you tight.

Your head rested on his chest and he rubbed your back. You felt warm, safe and loved.

[theblueraven]

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was small

Geralt didn’t answer.

There was a knife buried in his abdomen. Just below where his ribs ended. Not low enough to have hit his kidneys and too far to the left to have done damage to his stomach. Bard had terrible aim, considering he was going for a killing blow.

Lambert’s cackling broke Geralt from his stupor.

“Of course the bard is able to hurt you!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Jaskier cried distraught.

The man seemed to be unable to decide whether to run to Geralt and fuss or away to hide.

“Jask, it’s fine”

“No it’s not!” Jaskier was still distraught, “I hurt you!”

“You sure did” Lambert said, still cackling.

Jaskier’s faced morphed from the distraught-shock to horror.

“I HURT you”

“Jask-“

Jaskier bolted into the keep, the smell of tears trailing behind him.

Turning to Lambert, Geralt glared.

“What? It’s funny”

Geralt throws his hands in the air and winces. Oh yeah the knife.

“Common pretty boy. Let’s get a couple potions in you and I’ll ask dad to talk to your bard.”

——

Jaskier had weasled his way into some tight little corner that Vesemir didn’t even know existed.

“Jaskier? Son, can we talk?”

A sob was his response.

“You did nothing wrong”

“I hurt him! I could have killed him!”

“Son, you weren’t going to kill him. There are baby beasts with longer claws than the knife”

“It was in his stomach!”

“Not quite the stomach, a bit to far left for that”

“Oh good!” The bard said sarcastically, “ I missed his stomach! So I got the kidneys, or pancreas, or the endless amounts of intestines in a human! Soooo much better!”

The rant was ended with a dark chuckle.

“So are you here to throw me off the mountain?”

Vesemir blinked. What?

“No?”

“You don’t sound sure”

“Geralt loves you”

“No he doesn’t! I stabbed him! I could have killed him!”

Vesemir cursed his eldest for taking all the sense from his batch brother. Why couldn’t Geralt have told the bard about his feelings before. Or even about the whole ‘they care and get hurt’ thing?

“I guess he was right…” Jaskier whispered to himself. Seemingly have forgotten the witcher there.

“Right about what?” Vesemir asked. This could work. Hopefully.

“Love hurts. I love him and I keep hurting him!”

Dam the child. Vesemir swore that he taught his boys to use more words. Eskel, Lambert and Rumus managed it!

“Yes-“

“See you agree!”

“Yes,” Vesemir continues over the bard, “ Witchers cannot be harmed by a sentient unless the witcher loves them.”

The bard was silent.

“Wether platonically, familiarly or romantically, that is the only way you would have been able to land a hit like that”

“He loves me?”

Witchers can only be mortally wounded by those they deeply care for. This makes the deaths of witchers all the more tragic. Their deaths are caused by betrayals, one-sided relationships, and mercy killings.

Of course, there are also cases where mages manipulate the minds of witchers’ loved ones to turn them into weapons.

OOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!!!! I would love to see this in a fic, but only if there's a happy ending where nobody actually dies lol

[alongtidesoflight]

so here's my honest thoughts on dragon age: the veilguard, after ~40 hours of playing. i finished the main quest after having finished all companion quests and major faction quests. just to clear up what content i saw, i played as an elven transmasc rook who is a member of the lords of fortune. he romanced lucanis (although after finishing the game i'm now leaning towards taash). i don't know what's happening in playthroughs that have a different race, gender identity, romance or faction going on.

full spoilers ahead, i mean it. don't read further if you want to avoid them. i don't want complaining about it in my asks.

oh and also, if you're worried because of a few negative reviews online i can comfort you by saying don't give a fuck about a certain big name youtuber who is very much tied to bethesda franchises giving this a negative review. i'll explain why.

i'm starting off with the things i liked

the game looks really pretty. i was worried it wouldn't feel like thedas anymore (with them trying to "focus on northern thedas only" i thought they'd make a clear cut in environmental design. they do and they don't. it's complicated. i'll elaborate on it when talking about the negative stuff). anyway it does. minrathous feels like kirkwall. treviso enchanted me like the winter palace did. the hossberg wetlands reminded me of the hinterlands and a couple other inquisition maps. arlathan looked like... arlathan. the crossroads were different, but familiar. overall i like the way it looks and feels. it's thedas, with a twist. it's a good one, and gives everything a solid but unique feel.

combat is top tier. if you're a hardcore dragon age player you WILL miss the tactical aspect of it for a bit, but i promise you, once you're used to the way the combat works, you will be lapping that shit up. and once you get to ability combos you'll mourn the control you used to have over your companions in battle a bit less

the MAIN quest and its story. i expected worse, way worse. and for a while the game even had me tricked (harr harr you'll get it in a second) it is Really That Much Worse. but holy shit was it good. i walked away satisfied ngl.

your choices have SOLID weight. there's consequences, good AND bad. i got minrathous blighted, ruled over by venatori, and the leader of the shadow dragons ultimately died because of my decisions. i made those at the beginning and throughout the game. he died at the end. DAVRIN died because i didn't expect what i was saying to have that much weight. i thought i was in the clear. he had hero status. well turns out, your choices can still get your companions killed even if you do everything right. i fucking love him. he shouldn't have made that sacrifice just because i told him to do everything it takes once.

the inquisitor, morrigan and dorian being there, surprisingly. there's also negatives to this though, see below.

speaking of companions dying and the inquisitor playing a bigger role: the final quest feels like me2's suicide mission. i was blown away by it and the fact that i got to see the results of all my efforts playing out in front of me.

bioware are NOT trying to redeem solas. they love him as a character yes, but i wasn't forced to see any good in him. he betrays you. he fucked my rook over twice. he fucked him over right back, for good this time (the veil wasn't torn down, i anchored it by binding him to it, he's doomed to uphold it). but solas really lives up to his name as the trickster elven god. rip to all the people who grew really attached to him over the years.

varric died. if you like him that's probably as hard reading it as it was watching it. varric died and the game lies about it until the very end. when the realisation hits, it hurts. but in the very best way.

the amount of care they put into gender expression and trans identities this time around. (i'll add onto this with negative points as well too).

rook feels very much ingrained in the world of thedas. he doesn't ask questions that expose the player to lore through dialogue as if he's stepped foot into thedas for the first time. those conversations feel very solid and good. i hope other faction players got as much joy out of this as i did.

and the things i didn't like and boy there's a lot unfortunately

the music. let's just get that out of the way holy shit. it doesn't feel like it belongs in this universe. it gets so incredibly sci-fi-y at times you'd think it's taken straight from mass effect andromeda. there's not a single song unique to veilguard that i really enjoyed. it broke my immersion, real bad. hearing a busker play the tavern songs from inquisition on a lute right after i killed some venatori with wobbly bass songs playing in the background is just odd. weird tonal shift. don't like it. it's made for people who like flashy light-weight cinema.

tevinter nights is required reading. the podcasts are required listening exercises. the game is so fast paced, especially at the start, that there's no time to introduce you to characters and how much weight their names carry in-game. i would not have known who half these people are if i hadn't skimmed over tevinter nights. i'd care even less about them than i already did. there is no time to get properly attached to them. people will act as if you're talking to a legend personified and you'll be thinking man goddamn which chapter of tevinter night were they in again and what did they do???

there's a weird mismatch with the animations. you'll have beautifully fluid ones, like emmrich casting spells. and then you'll have rook's face animating in the most unnatural manner that's sorta reminiscent of mass effect andromeda's "my face is tired" addison, when their emotions SHOULD be landing with the player rn instead.

i'm not vibing with the art style. sometimes it works. most of the time it doesn't. at points i felt like i was watching tangled.

that also brings me to some of the dialogue. same issue. i am watching frozen. i am watching tangled. someone on the writer's team really likes the adorkable trope. bellara is its victim.

for all the talk about identity, bioware sure doesn't like theirs. the grey warden armor got a redesign again and it just makes them look like a generic army. i hate it lol

in general, i don't like the armor design. the wardrobe/appearances system is fine, but it's just not helping if all the armors are just... kinda bland or downight bad looking? and don't get me started on the lords of fortune armor. that is orientalism personified.

the world states should have been carried over, full stop. i know they said they didn't because they want to separate what happens in the north from what happens in the south, which... i could have lived with that. but the inquisitor sends you letters that keep you up to date on... the south of thedas. you learn that there's a blight again, that people are standing strong but it's difficult, denerim's fallen, the rulers are taking care of it, orlais is fighting and they're successful for a while, etc etc. what's good bioware. i thought we don't care about the south this time around. why are you feeding me so much boring generic information. if you're not gonna show any of it and just write letters, then carrying the world state over should not have been an issue. i have a game dev background. those few lines of code would not have broken your budget or pushed your engine's limits. fuck right off.

this gripe of mine carries over to all the cameos. as a lord of fortune you have to deal with isabela a lot. it's fun. i missed her. you get to go drinking with her and taash and bellara! also my hawke romanced her. she's not mentioned once. they had the opportunity to put a sentence or two about her in there with not a lot of effort, trust me.

when varric dies, all she has is a single line about it. for gold, for fortune, for varric. she only says it if you interact with her on your way to the final push. that's not mandatory.

morrigan is there. kieran isn't. the old god soul that mythal and then solas absorbed? who cares at this point, the gods are dead now and solas is locked away for eternity. i suppose? why is morrigan there. she feels unneeded. i wish they'd just left her down south, at least that way i wouldn't have had to witness her god awful redesign.

dorian at least feels as if he belongs in this story. the shadow dragons are a crucial part to protecting minrathous. he's also weirdly underutilised. isabela and morrigan had more lines than him in my playthrough.

on the topic of romance: bro that was underwhelming. no, genuinely. you know when romance picked up a bit? after the point of no return. i heard maybe two lines of companion banter about it before that. maybe i missed something which i honestly doubt, but romance did not play much of a role in lucanis's storyline. i saved his grandmother as he wished me to (and if you read tevinter nights you know she was rather abusive and their relationship not the healthiest) and told him to focus on his family. a reunified family my rook wasn't even introduced to as a partner at the end of all that.

really, do not buy this game if you're only in it for the romances. others might be better, lucanis's basically gave me nothing. except for an outing (the second coffee date i had with him, it was getting repetitive) all of it played out once i committed to the final quest. the sex scene was a fade to black. annoyingly right after davrin died. if you're looking for well paced and good spice, pick up something else. the sweet talk and the final goodbye were nice though.

for all the good the ever-presence of gender identity does, it is brought up in such a disruptive manner too. it doesn't even play out naturally if you CHOOSE the lines that are meant to be said. hearing the words trans and non-binary in this setting doesn't feel right, and i'm saying this as a trans guy. i think it could have been handled more gracefully. the amount of times my rook went "i'm a MAN" as if he's about to start drumming on his chest and roaring any second now got super nerve-grating. "i'm so glad you're into me... the me who is trans. remember?" just. tell me one trans person who'd talk like that to a person they've grown close with and are trying to romance. this game doesn't handle sexuality well, so all this hey my body might not look like the way you're expecting it to look talk amounts to nothing anyway. i feel about this the way i feel about krem: this is partial exposition to trans experiences... packaged up for cis consumption. the ONLY exception to that is interacting with taash. holy shit was all of that heartwarming and bro did it feel good and natural to talk to them about theirs and rook's gender.

rivain and nevarra are new locations added by veilguard. they're also incredibly underwhelming, small and constricted maps. rivain is a coastline with a few ruins. the hall of valor is a partial ruin nestled into a cave on a beach, with a fighting pit. isabela is there in her skimpy outfit commentating your pit fights. that's it. i'm sorry if you were looking for a bustling pirate cove or whatever. you're not gonna get it. the nevarran crypts btw are a long ass dungeon crawl. that's it.

speaking of maps. i thought people were being dramatic when they said you're gonna be fighting the same enemies on them again and again. i thought they were figure of speeching it. they're not. you WILL fight the same amount of enemies. in the same spot. every time you reload the map. best to stay on a map and clear out the enemies and do as much questing on that map as you can before leaving, because you WILL have to do it all over again once you return.

the three choices i made for my inquisitor didn't matter lol she didn't have to face solas and therefore couldn't stop him at any cost as she had sworn (maybe because my rook tricked solas into binding himself to the veil, there was also an option to fight him. would she have stepped in? who knows). blackwall wasn't mentioned. and either her using a small amount of her forces in the final fight was the reason the civilians of minrathous fared so well..... or it just didn't matter. ultimately i think she had very little impact on anything

[alagaisia]

Hey if you’re still enjoying and engaging with Harry Potter in any capacity you can unfollow me 😊 please and thank you

Like. I get it. I was super into it as a kid too. I did not have the social context to pick up on the antisemitism or transphobia or sexism or fatphobia or bioessentialism or racism or anything else. I also picked up on surface-level language of Fighting Back Against Evil and ascribed my own values onto what that meant and thought we were all on the same page. I remember when the original kids who grew up with the books started becoming adult fans and picking up on the (blatant!) antisemitism and everybody was still mostly willing to give JKR the benefit of the doubt on it. (“She was writing kids books!” They said. “She didn’t know she was penning a global phenomenon! She picked a common literary trend in European fairy tales (antisemitic caricature) and didn’t examine it closely. It’s a mistake anyone could make,” we said. “She would probably do things differently now. After all, she word-of-god confirmed the vaguest hints she dropped that Dumbledore might be gay,” we said.) There was actually a span of several years where biases inherent in the actual real content of the Harry Potter series were coming to light and even the people pointing them out still seemed mostly to think it was an unfortunate accident.

That time has passed. Years ago! We are long past the first months of “maybe she doesn’t realize this seemingly-feminist tweet she liked was made by a noted TERF” and then “how could she not realize that these many veiled TERF-y things she’s retweeted have implications for the many queer fans of her work” and finally “oh wow okay JKR just dropped an entire transphobic manifesto on twitter. I guess the transphobia was the point.”

Yeah, there were a few months after that where people were still processing and still working through how they felt about Harry Potter and all of its flaws with the context of the now open transphobia of the creator. I was there for that. Remember how I was one of the kids who built it up into something noble and worthwhile based on my own beliefs about what messages it was probably trying to convey? Turns out it wasn’t trying to say any of those things, and when you take the time to examine all of the terrible shit that made its way into the text whether JKR intended it to be there or not, the whole series falls apart. It’s weird to discover that there’s a room in your house that’s rotten to the core, but eventually you figure out you can’t live like that, still going in there and holding your nose and pretending it’s still the same room you thought it was when the termites were only inside of the walls and hadn’t yet started chewing their way through the furniture. Because what’s going to happen is that they are going to infest the rest of your house. If you decide you can ignore transphobia and antisemitism and everything else just because you liked the color of the wallpaper, the rest of your principles are going to crumble too. You get rid of that fucking room. You put those books on a high shelf in the back of your closet behind other outgrown clothes and interests and you move the fuck on.

JKR uses the money made from her transphobic antisemitic children’s books to actively funding hate groups and to lobby for legislation that will and has actually affected the actual lives of trans people in an entire country. We are past the point of grieving something you were wrong about in childhood. Kids are wrong about a lot of stuff. You grow up and you learn new information and you change your behaviors based on it. You have to choose. It is transphobic to pretend there is not transphobia where there is. It is transphobic to support the work of someone who is using those funds to take rights from trans people with every fucking dollar. It is hateful to continue to engage positively with a story that at its very core is rooted in hate and bigotry and prejudice. You can choose to do all of those things but you cannot claim ignorance of them and you cannot choose those things and still pretend that choosing them upholds the values we convinced ourselves that Harry Potter stood for over a decade ago as uninformed children. You cannot choose to do those things and pretend to still support your trans and queer and Jewish neighbors. I do not want you in my neighborhood. Leave.

[foreverxdaydreaming]

x