#i was rooting for her in the books and i'd be SO down to see her get a redemption arc or smth like it

[reliquiaen]

Summarising S3E4 to a friend as 'hot physicist is bitter that fellow scientists aren't giving her enough credit, starts apocalypse'.

We stan Mierin Eronaile in this house.

[readsaboutreid]

Cast Your Bets | S.R.

summary: (Y/N) has been at the BAU for two months now and the tension between her and Spencer has been noticeable to everyone but them. The team takes bets on when they'll finally snap but (Y/N) and Spencer over hear them and some smutty shenanigans ensue.

This is smut so it's 18+, minors please dni.

spencer x bau!reader

contains: unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation (m), fingering (f receiving), non-established relationship

this has been sitting in my drafts for few months so i figured i'd finally let it see the light of day

The team were all sat on the jet after a long case, everyone off in their own little worlds. Morgan had his headphones on and had nodded off, JJ and Prentiss were playing cards, and Hotchner and Rossi were talking about the case they had just finished in hushed tones. Spencer had run out of reading material so he was just kind of sitting and staring off into space. His eyes fell to (Y/N), her brows furrowed in concentration as she read what looked to be a well-worn book, and he couldn't help the way his heart fluttered in his chest.

Ever since she had started at the BAU, Spencer had been hopelessly infatuated with her. She was intelligent, sweet, and most surprisingly she seemed to enjoy when Spencer would go off rambling about something that would usually leave Morgan rolling his eyes or Prentiss poking him and asking, "how did they make you so lifelike?" But when he was talking with (Y/N) and he would start off on a subject, she would just tilt her head and listen with a soft smile, occasionally chiming in with a question or comment, making it more than clear she was listening to every word.

She locked eyes with him and flashed him the sweetest smile and he felt his cheeks burn with a sudden heat. "Something interesting, Reid?" She chuckled, closing the book she had been reading and setting it on her lap as she turned to face him.

"I—I was just trying to see what you're reading," he lied, unconvincingly. He swallowed nervously and a small smile twitched at his lips at seeing her smile grow even wider before he looked down at his hands resting in his lap.

She held the book up for him to see the cover. Dune.

"Dune? That's one of my favorites!" He exclaimed with a wide smile.

"When I was a little girl this was one of my favorites. My dad would read it to me before bedtime," she explained before opening it back up to begin reading again. "I read it once a year the month of his birthday."

Spencer felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of confidence and decided to take advantage of it. "Hey, uh, I finished the only book I had brought with me earlier, do you mind if I read along with you, maybe? I could just read over your shoulder or something." He bit his lip as he waited for her to shoot him down, the confidence he felt already fading away rapidly.

"Oh! I, uh, o-okay," she responded while her eyes widened a little bit in response to the request. She moved closer to him on the bench they were both seated on. He adjusted the way he was sitting so that she could lean up against him and he found himself silently hoping she couldn't hear how fast and hard his heart was beating against his chest. She opened the book, holding it up high enough for Spencer to be able to read as well and they began reading. Spencer stole the occasional glance at her, the butterflies in his stomach flying around more frantically each time he did so.

His body was in overdrive and he did everything in his power to maintain his composure. He could smell the scent of eucalyptus and lavender on her hair as she leaned up against him and he started thinking about how nice it would be to be able to run his fingers through it while her lips were wrapped around his—

Spencer shook his head, dispelling the thoughts before they had a chance to take root. He cleared his throat and crossed his legs to cover up the fact that he was becoming rather noticeably hard. (Y/N) shifted a bit, leaning further into Spencer's chest and resting her head there gently. His breath hitched in his throat before he relaxed into her, resting his arm around her shoulders and his cheek against the top of her head.

They continued reading until Spencer noticed that she hadn't turned the page in quite a while. When he looked down at her he noticed that she was sleeping quite soundly against him. He tried his best to maneuver without waking her, placing her bookmark in between the pages and closing the book. There was no way Spencer himself would be able to get any sleep right now, but Spencer tried to relax enough to at least be a comfortable human pillow. Wrapping his other arm around her, he eventually found himself getting lost in the scent of her shampoo yet again as his eyes grew heavy.

Next thing he knew, he was waking up to Morgan lightly shaking his shoulder. "Come on lover boy! It's time to wake up. We're about to land," he said in a voice loud enough to also rouse the still-sleeping (Y/N).

She shot up suddenly, her face turning a deep shade of crimson as she stammered out a flustered apology and swiftly rushed off to the bathroom, leaving Spencer to glare daggers at Derek from his seat on the now otherwise empty bench.

Later that night, Spencer found himself at home, sprawled on the couch with the familiar blue glow of the television screen illuminating the room. The soft hum of the TARDIS filled the air as he half-heartedly tried to focus on the episode of Doctor Who playing before him. But try as he might, his mind kept drifting back to (Y/N).

Her scent still lingered on his clothes, a sweet and intoxicating blend that teased his senses. Images of her leaning against him, of her hair brushing against his skin, invaded his thoughts. His body reacted to these memories, stirring with a desire that he couldn't ignore.

As the scene on the TV faded into the background, Spencer's hand began to stray lower, fingers tracing the outline of his growing arousal through his pants. He closed his eyes, letting himself fully indulge in the fantasy of (Y/N) that had taken hold of his mind.

Her soft lips against his skin, his hands exploring her body with a gentle curiosity...

Spencer reached his hand into his pajama pants, pulling out his throbbing member and wrapping his fingers around himself, slowly beginning to stroke up and down. His breathing grew shallow as his hand moved more purposefully, seeking release from the building tension within him. Lost in a haze of desire and yearning, Spencer's thoughts were consumed by the memory of her touch, her scent, her warmth as she leaned up against him. With a quiet gasp, he abandoned himself to the fantasy, his movements growing urgent as he chased the climax that beckoned to him.

The fantasies of (Y/N) moaning and writhing beneath him in pleasure became more vivid, more alluring, fueling the fire that consumed him. Every fleeting touch, every whispered word in his mind pushed him closer to the edge until finally, with a shuddering breath and a silent cry of her name on his lips, Spencer found release in the solitude of his living room. The waves of pleasure washed over him, leaving him spent and breathless, his heart pounding in his chest.

As reality slowly seeped back in, Spencer lay there in the dim glow of the TV screen, a flush of both satisfaction and guilt coloring his cheeks. He wondered how he would ever be able to look (Y/N) in the eye again, but at the same time he couldn't help but long to see her still.

With a deep sigh, Spencer finally shut off the TV, cleaned himself up, and headed to bed, his mind filled with a mixture of longing and remorse.

The atmosphere in the bullpen was buzzing with it's usual energy. Spencer and (Y/N) were hunched over their desks, papers scattered everywhere as they focused intently on their work.

Meanwhile, across the room, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, and JJ were observing the pair with playful banter and knowing looks. Their whispers floated through the air like mischievous spirits.

"Hey, JJ, how long do you think it'll be until these two finally give in to their sexual tension?" Derek asked with a cocky smirk.

JJ shrugged. "I'll give it two weeks."

Derek scoffed in response and said, "I say a week tops."

Penelope interjected, "oh please! I give it three days."

"You're all ridiculous" Emily shook her head and laughed, "I bet it'll take 24 hours, tops."

Spencer could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he overheard the playful bets being made about him and (Y/N). His heart raced at the mere thought of what could transpire between them, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within him like a storm.

As they both reached for the same file folder, their fingers brushed against each other's in a fleeting moment that sent a jolt of electricity through Spencer. His hand trembled slightly at the contact, his skin tingling with a sensation he couldn't quite describe. But he couldn't deny the rush of warmth that flooded his veins at the simple touch.

(Y/N) quickly withdrew her hand, her eyes widening in surprise as she glanced up at Spencer. Her cheeks were painted with a delicate pink blush that mirrored Spencer's own, a silent acknowledgment passing between them in that moment.

Emily raised an eyebrow as they all observed the exchange between Spencer and (Y/N). "I told you all—24 hours, no more, no less.”

Agent Hotchner's lowered voice came from behind the group, startling everyone at the table. "Less than 12 hours," he stated calmly, his eyes piercing as they turned towards Spencer and (Y/N). The sudden silence that followed his words was almost palpable, the tension thick in the air as his prediction hung over them like a heavy cloud.

As the others in the room exchanged surprised glances, Derek let out a low whistle. "Hotch, you sure about that?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

Hotch simply nodded, his expression unreadable as he turned away and walked out of the bullpen, leaving the rest of the table floored as they looked back at Spencer and (Y/N).

The gentle hum of the bullpen around them seemed to fade away as Spencer found himself lost in a daydream, imagining a world where he and (Y/N) were more than just colleagues. His heart quickened at the thought of what could be, but just as quickly, the shadow of doubt crept in.

What if she didn't feel the same way? What if their friendship was forever altered by a moment of vulnerability and desire? Spencer's mind swirled with conflicting emotions—longing mingled with fear, desire intertwined with doubt.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice (Y/N) shooting him a quick smile before returning to her work. The warmth of that smile lingered in the air around Spencer, filling him with a sense of hope and a tinge of uncertainty. Was it just a friendly gesture, or did it hold a deeper meaning that he desperately wanted to believe in?

As the day drew to a close and everyone began packing up, Spencer finally spoke up. "Hey, (Y/N)," Spencer nervously fiddled with the strap of his bag, "would, uh, w-would you want to come over and watch Star Trek tonight? We could get some takeout, you know, like we always do the weekend after a case?" She looked up at him with a warm smile that made the butterflies in his stomach flare up and nodded happily.

As they walked out of the office together, Spencer couldn't help the sweat that began coating his palms in a thin layer. He gripped the leather strap of his bag and fiddled with it to give his hands something to do. The elevator took them down to the parking garage and they approached her car. Spencer rushed to open the driver's side door for her, drawing a soft, melodious giggle from her lips that made him go weak at the knees.

He made his way to the passenger side and slipped into the seat, buckling the seatbelt and swallowing the lump in his throat. She pulled out of the parking space and they began the short journey to his apartment. On her car radio a CD started playing, and a man with a soft and pleasant voice was singing to them about a woman with a green plastic watering can and a fake Chinese rubber plant. (Y/N) hummed along to the song and Spencer looked at her from the passenger seat, and as he did so his mind ventured back to the conversation he over heard between their colleagues earlier today.

"Spencer? Why are you staring at me?" She asked with a small smile, snapping him out of his thoughts and back into reality. His cheeks burned as he silently berated himself, not realizing how long he had been looking over at her. A whole new song was playing on the radio now, the same man now singing about how he used to fly like Peter Pan.

"S-sorry, I, uh, I just, uh—hey, wh-what did you wanna order tonight?" He clumsily attempted to change the subject, looking down at his hands as he wrung them together in his lap.

"Oooh!" (Y/N) exclaimed, always excited to talk about food. "There's a new pizza place across the street from your building that I noticed the last time I came over, what if we ordered from them?"

Spencer closed his eyes and exhaled shakily, relief washing over him. "That sounds like a fantastic idea," he smiled and shot another glance her way, this time immediately looking back at his hands.

(Y/N) parked the car on the curb in front of Spencer's building and turned off the engine. They stepped out into the cool evening air and walked across the street, entering the pizza shop. The inside of the shop was small, just a handful of tables. The walls were painted a pale shade of yellow and plastered with vintage Italian film posters. The air smelled of tomato sauce and pesto, and as they approached the counter a middle aged woman with a red apron over her blue dress pushed through the door in the wall behind it, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Welcome! Table for two?" She asked, looking between (Y/N) and Spencer.

"Can we actually just order something for takeout?" Spencer asked, looking at the menu above her head.

"Of course! What can I get for the handsome couple?" She smiled, her brown eyes crinkling on the side.

Spencer blinked. "Oh, uh, w-we, uh, we're not—," Spencer stammered, his eyes widening as his cheeks flushed. "Um, can we get a, uh, a large pepperoni pizza?" He shifted gears, remembering her once mentioning to Garcia that pepperoni was her favorite pizza topping.

"Did you want a two liter bottle of cola? It would only be an extra $1.25," the lady chuckled, entering everything into the register.

"S-sure," he responded, pulling out his wallet.

"Alrighty! That will be $9.25," Spencer handed over a $20 and the lady opened the register drawer and handed him his change. "Please, feel free to have a seat while the two of you wait." She gestured over at the tables, which were all empty save for one, which was occupied by a single woman with a large slice of pizza on her table doing a crossword puzzle, before walking back through the door behind her.

"After you," he turned to (Y/N), following her to a table by the window. He pulled the chair out for her, earning another one of her beautiful giggles that made his legs go wobbly.

"Always such a gentleman," she smiled up at him as he made his way to the other side of the table and sat down. They waited for around 10 minutes and chatted about random topics, flowing from one to the next. The same lady from before approached the table with a white pizza box and plastic bag with the large bottle of soda and little packets of crushed red peppers and parmesan.

"Here you go, one large pepperoni pizza!" She placed the box and the bag on the table and wished them a good evening before heading back through the same door behind the counter.

The pair headed out of the shop and crossed the street, entering the door to Spencer's apartment building. Spencer carried the pizza box and soda while trailing behind (Y/N), struggling to keep his gaze off of her behind as he followed her up the stairs. As they approached his door, he fumbled trying to get his keys out of his pocket and ended up dropping them on the ground.

(Y/N) immediately reacted, bending down to grab the keys as soon as they hit the ground with a good natured laugh. "Need some help, Spencer?" She teased while grinning up at him.

"Yes, please," he laughed in return, shooting her a sheepish grin of his own. She unlocked the door to his apartment and opened the door, allowing him to slip in first and place the pizza and soda down on his small table. She followed and closed the door behind her.

"So I know I had agreed to come over to watch Star Trek, but what would you say to watching a little Doctor who?" She turned to him, a hopeful glint in her eyes. "It's been a while since I've sat down and watched that and I kind of miss it."

"We can watch anything you'd like!" Spencer responded while heading to the kitchen to grab a couple of plates and glasses. He brought them back out and offered one of each to (Y/N). They each helped themselves to a slice of pizza and poured their drinks before heading over to his couch. He grabbed the remote and put on Doctor Who.

They ate their pizza and watched Doctor Who on his couch, each of them getting up for another slice at least once. Spencer stole the occasional glance at her as they ate and watched, and once they both finished he took their plates to the sink and washed them off before quickly returning. As he sat back down, (Y/N) scooted closer to him slowly before gently leaning up against him and softly asking, "i-is this okay?"

Spencer's breath hitched in his throat as he managed to croak out a quiet, "y-yeah, it's okay." He lifted his arm and tentatively placed it around her shoulders while she moved in closer, leaning into his chest and resting her head against it like she had on the plane as they read together. This time he was sure she had to hear the way his heart was racing, but fortunately she said nothing. They continued to watch in silence as the tension between the two of them grew nearly palpable.

Eventually, once Spencer found himself wondering if she had yet again fallen asleep, (Y/N) broke the silence with a question. "So did you hear the team talking about us earlier today?"

"No, uh, wh-what were they, um, talking about?" He lied, doing his best to maintain his composure.

"You are a very bad liar, Spencer," she chuckled, making his cheeks flush bright red as she sat up.

"Sorry," he muttered, closing his eyes before looking up at her. "Y-yeah, I overheard them. I'm sorry about them, I can try to talk to them about it and ask them to stop—"

"No, it's not that! It was actually fairly funny," she chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "But to be honest I'm kind of offended that they thought it would take me that long to seduce you." She joked, nudging Spencer in the ribs. "I mean, Emily said 'no more or less than 24 hours' but I'm fairly certain that if I really tried, and I mean really put my heart into it, I could get you into bed with me tonight." She laughed again but there was a hint of nervousness in it this time, shooting a look at him from where she sat as a faint pink blush began to spread over her cheeks. Apparently she hadn't heard Hotch's bet, but Spencer wasn't focusing on that. He was too busy focusing on the fact that he was sitting here listening to her speculate how long it would take for her to seduce him as if she hadn't been plaguing his dreams and fantasies since they met.

"Good point," he breathed to himself, hoping it was quiet enough that she wouldn't be able to hear over the TV. Unfortunately for him, he thought wrong. He yelped in surprise as she lunged over his lap, grabbed the remote, and hit the mute button, making the TV go silent.

"Oh, really?" She shot him a smile that was an equal mix of surprised and some other emotion Spencer hadn't seen on her face before. "So tell me, Spencer, what might I need to do to convince you to sleep with me?" Her voice was sultry and soft as she bit her lip and looked up at him, her face closer to his than it had been before.

"I-I, uh," Spencer cleared his throat and swallowed, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He had two options: try to lie his way out of this or just tell her how badly he'd like nothing more than to lay her down and take her right there on the couch. His palms grew slick again but he took a deep breath. He had already been called out for his poor lying skills once this evening, so there was no point in attempting the first option. Instead he simply opted to tell her the truth.

"Y-you wouldn't have to do anything more than just ask and I'd say yes." His voice was barely above a whisper and he finally looked up to meet her eyes before he added, "in a heartbeat."

Before he could fully register what was happening she had leaned in and pressed her lips to his softly. His eyes slowly closed as he kissed her back, shifting to turn so he was facing towards her with more of his body. His hands slid to her waist, wrapping around her and pulling her into him.

When they pulled away from each other he reached his hand up to cup her cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. He opened his eyes to find her already looking at him before she softly said, "Spencer, would you like to—"

"Yes," he exhaled with a fervent nod, grabbing her face with his other hand and crashing his lips back against hers, her lips parting to allow his tongue into her mouth. She threw her arms around his neck and laid back, pulling Spencer down with her. They shifted their legs until Spencer's hips rested between her thighs, his cock stiffening rapidly in his pants.

Her hands tangled into his hair and he began gently grinding his hips against her. They both moaned into each other's mouths at the sensation and Spencer's movements became more insistent and needy. When they finally broke apart to catch their breath, her cheeks were flushed and her pupils were dilated. Spencer brushed some of her hair out of her face before he pressed his lips to her cheek, then began trailing kisses from her cheek to her chin, then to her neck. She moved her hands to the collar of her shirt and began undoing the buttons while Spencer rose up to remove his own layers.

Once he had removed his shirt he looked back down at her and the sight awaiting him stole the breath right from his lungs. She had removed her shirt and her bra in the time it took him to get his jacket, vest, and shirt off and her entire torso was on display to him. He brought a hand up to one of her breasts and cupped it in his hand, brushing his thumb over the nipple. He leaned back over her and began kissing her neck again, teasing and tormenting her nipple before moving his mouth to take over, his fingers going to the other one to tease while he suckled and ran his tongue over the first one.

Everything else faded into the background when he heard her moan at sensations, including the throbbing and aching need in his pants. All that he could focus on was drawing more of those sounds form her mouth. He let his teeth graze against her nipple and she gasped, tangling her fingers back into his hair. He let his teeth press gently onto the hardened nub again and the moan she released in response was beautiful enough for him to think that maybe he had died and gone to heaven.

He eventually moved his hand from her other nipple, switching it out for his mouth and giving the first one a break. He let his hand trail down her abdomen, stopping as he reached the waistline of her skirt. He looked up at her from her chest as he hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to gently tug. She lifted her hips and used her hands to push her skirt and panties down before Spencer slowly pushed her thighs back open.

His fingers slid up her inner thigh until he reached her dripping center. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt just how ready she was for him. She whimpered beneath him and he felt his cock twitch at the sound as he moaned against her nipple. He gently ran a fingertip from her entrance to her clit, circling around it slowly before running his finger back down the other way. He repeated the action a few times. As he continued he started slipping the tip of his finger into the entrance of her pussy before swiping up to the clit, and with each repetition his finger slipped deeper and deeper into her.

His head became hazy with lust as he kept going until his finger was fully embedded into her. When he slipped it out this time instead of swiping it up to her clit he instead added a second finger, slowly pushing them both into her and pulling them back out. She arched her back up into his mouth, still tormenting her nipple. He switched back to the neglected one, feeling her chest heave against his mouth. Her fingers were back in his hair and tugging gently, and his cock twitched again at the feeling. He moaned loudly against her chest, and she pulled his hair again in response. He tugged at her nipple with his teeth lightly and she gasped, clenching around his fingers.

He sped up his pace, chuckling against her as the way she stifled a scream. "S-Spencer I'm gonna—oh fuck yes I'm coming!" She cried. Spencer pulled back to see her eyes flutter back into her head and her face twist in pleasure. Her face, neck, and chest were flushed scarlet and he felt as her pussy pulsed around his fingers. The sounds that fell from her lips were more beautiful than anything he'd ever heard. He slowed his fingers down, gently coaxing her through her orgasm.

(Y/N) tugged his hair, pulling him up to crash her lips against his. She then moved those hands to his belt, deftly undoing his belt buckle and fly. Spencer removed his belt and then pushed his pants and briefs to his ankles before kicking them off. (Y/N) reached a hand out and ran her fingers over his cock, her thumb swiping across the tip as it throbbed.

He was aching and leaking into her hand, his hips bucking into her touch while she stroked once, twice, a third time, before guiding the tip between her thighs and pressing him against her entrance. He pushed in immediately, moaning at the heat that enveloped him, and stilled once he was fully sheathed inside of her. He panted heavily as he remained still inside of her, listening to the way she whimpered beneath him.

"S-so good," he whispered, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to keep himself from finishing immediately.

"Yeah? It feels good?" She asked breathlessly.

"Yes!" He moaned. "You feel s-so good." His entire body tensed and his arms trembled under his weight when he felt her begin to writhe beneath him, trying to get some sort of friction between her legs. He took deep breaths before he pulled his hips back and pushed them back forward, earning enthusiastic moans from (Y/N)'s lips as her back arched up off of the bed, her chest pressing into his. He dragged himself back out, then back in, and kept this up until their hips had fallen into rhythm together. Every sound that fell from her lips was more beautiful than the last as Spencer rammed into her and the slap of skin on skin was mixed in with their moans.

"Sp-Spencer—" a moan cut her off, followed by his lips finding hers and swallowing the moan. His hips sped up and he felt her nails dig into his shoulders.

"I—oh my god—(Y/N), I think I'm about to come!" He cried out. He tipped his head back and a desperate whine ripped it's way from his throat as he felt himself growing closer and closer with each disjointed thrust into her and each moan from her lips. "Wh-where do you want—oh god—where should I—"

"Give it to me, please!" She mewled underneath him. "Please, please fill me up Spencer, please I need—" he finished before she could even finish her pleas, moaning loudly as he tensed and spilled every drop into her. He could feel her clench down onto him, could hear her cry out in pleasure and felt her fingernails digging into his shoulders hard enough that he suspected she may have drawn blood, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that through the pleasure coursing through every cell in his body.

By the time he came back down, he could barely hold himself up on his arms with how hard they were trembling. He opened his eyes and was blown away by the sight beneath him. Her hair was tousled and her face and chest were flushed, the latter heaving with her own gasps for air. Spencer leaned in to give her lips a soft kiss before pulling himself out of her. When he looked down in between their legs and saw his seed dripping out of her, his head spun with lust. He was snapped out of it by the sound of a cell phone ringing, and he reached for the source of the sound to determine which of them needed to answer.

When he located the phone beneath his own pants he answered figuring it to be his own phone ringing. "Hello?" He was still breathlessly panting as he looked at (Y/N), her eyes dancing with humor at his tone.

"Reid, is that you?" Garcia's voice came through the phone.

"Yeah, who else would it be?" He asked, gaining back a bit of control over his breathing.

"Well, given that I dialed (Y/N)'s number, perhaps her?" She laughed a little bit. "What are you doing answering (Y/N)'s phone sounding like you just finished a marathon?" She asked, her voice growing more and more excited with each word.

"I—uh, um—(Y-Y/N)'s phone?" He stammered, sitting up quickly at the words as he turned his gaze to (Y/N), who was cleaning herself up next to him with some tissues she had grabbed from his side table. Her eyes widened as she heard those two words come from his mouth and her hand shot to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. "I. uh, I guess I must have grabbed hers by mistake after we ate lunch together at her desk."

"Spencer Reid you really are the world's worst liar!" Garcia laughed from the other end as Spencer felt his entire face burn with embarrassment at being called out on his poor lying skills twice in one evening.

"I-it's for you," he mumbled while he handed her the phone. After he had cleaned himself up, he put his pants and shirt back on while he let (Y/N) focus on her conversation with Garcia, which she managed to continue while getting dressed. Once she had hung up the phone she pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed slowly while laughing.

"Well, now that Penelope knows so will everyone on the team," she let out a sigh but then smiled at Spencer so sweetly he couldn't help but scoot closer and wrap his arms around her again. They sat like that for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's presence in front of the still muted television.

"Hey, Spencer?" She spoke up eventually.

"Yeah?" He muttered back sleepily while he absent-mindedly played with her hair.

"I'm going to go grab another slice of pizza, want me to bring you one, too?"

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Established Steddie, they have been living together for over a decade, did their best to heal their wounds from the Upside Down and learn to enjoy life again. It's not easy but they do it.

When the Lord of the Rings movies come out, it's actually Steve who suggests watching them to Eddie. He really tries engaging with Eddie's passions, but his focus is not the greatest when it comes to books. That doesn't mean he doesn't listen to Eddie ramble about them though - he knows all about hobbits, second breakfasts, the culture of smoking in the Shire...Eddie admires a lot of characters from the books, but ever since experiencing the Upside Down fuckery, he actually admits that the hobbits had a point. Good food, even better company and good tobacco? What else does one need? It also inspires Steve a few years later to prepare a full day of hobbit-inspired meals for their trilogy marathon when the extended editions come out. But this is about their first time watching the movies.

They both go to the movie theater excited. Steve is familiar with most of the characters, including Eddie's self-admitted crush on Aragorn. And Steve can see why, he can see so much good in all the members of the fellowship. After the first movie, he's wiping his eyes because Boromir deserved better. Eddie has a lot to say about what was lost in adaptation, but Steve knows Eddie loves those movies and would cut off his only remaining nipple before missing the next ones.

The Two Towers have Steve rooting for the ents and he feels strangely touched about how everyone underestimates Pippin, yet it's him who gets the ents to march. He really can't pick a favorite character. He can't wait for the third movie.

They go to the premiere of the Return of the King with Eddie. They secretly hold hands in the last row, and Steve watches the ride of the Rohirrim with bated breath. He clenches his hand in Eddie's when Theoden gets gravely injured, but then Éowyn is there and...oh.

He is staring slack-jawed at the scene. Éowyn's large, terrified eyes, the towering frame of the Witch King. Her posture was fearful, crouched, but still she faced him. And something surfaces in his head, something he's long forgotten.

He's unusually queit when they come back home, he still loves the rest of the movie, almost cries at "my friends, you bow to no one,", then definitely cries at Frodo leaving the Middle Earth. But there is still that something and Eddie can sense it. When they're falling asleep together, Eddie finally asks him. And Steve's had enough time to process what he felt.

"When Éowyn faced the Witch King...it reminded me of what it felt like. I mean, for the first time. I know it's stupid because saw so much unnatural shit, but...it's the first time that I have hard time forgetting," he admits quietly. "She reminded me of me in 1983 so much. I had no clue what I was getting myself into. I thought I'd do the right thing, but then I had a gun pointed at me, they both had blood on their hands...and then it appeared."

Eddie doesn't speak, he only holds Steve closer.

"It was so tall. I remember that petal-like mouth, those teeth, but mostly...I remember the crippling fear. I felt absolutely terrified. I couldn't move. There was even a moment when I thought of running away, but...I couldn't leave them there. Seeing someone go through something similar and being praised for being a hero...it makes me think. I used to be so ashamed for freezing in that moment. For even considering running away. But Éowyn...she was like me." There's awe in his voice and warmth, relief. "She had no idea what she was getting into. She froze. She didn't do everything perfectly and gracefully like Legolas or something, but when it mattered...she did what she had to."

He holds Eddie tighter and asks, almost shyly: "Will it offend you that I think she's my favorite character? Not Aragorn or Sam?"

Eddie just shakes his head and drops a kiss to Steve's hair. "Nah. She suits you well. And you're both amazing."

And if it becomes a silly endearment in their household, that Steve is sometimes called the Shieldmaiden of Hawkins? ("I'm not a maiden, Eddie!" "I'm not calling you a shieldboy or shieldbachelor, Steve!") Then Steve feels a hint of something that he thought he'd renounced, but now, for the first time he feels it's deserved - pride.

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Surprise Meet The Parents

So...a while ago (years, decades, possibly even centuries) I received a prompt for an age gap meet the parent's fic with Melissa and at the time I wasn't sure how to go with it and someone tossed in the idea of a surprise meet. At the time, I'd started down a different path, but since then I've looped back around and decided to try the road not taken...

I will try and link the other fic (when I find it!) and it's my New Year's Resolution to create a masterlist and move my fics across to AO3. But in the meantime, thank you all for all your lovely comments and responses to my last couple of posts (work remains crazy and I am nowhere near ready for Christmas) so although I haven't had time to reply properly to them, they have honestly helped keep my sane and smiling!

Hope you enjoy the latest offering!

Melissa frowns at the couple waving enthusiastically in your direction.  They’re not parents she recognises.  “Who’s that?” she asks, nudging you.

“Um…” you hesitate, not quite knowing how to break the news.  “That…that is my mum and dad.”

The red head eyes widen as she turns to look at you.  “You didn’t say they were coming!”

“Neither did they!”

*

The surprise visit has certainly succeeded in it’s aim.  You are very surprised.  Somehow, your parents have been able to keep a transatlantic flight a secret and appeared just in time for the final bell.  Yes, you agree with your mum, it’s a cute idea they had to be here in time for picking you up from school, just like the old days.  It’s also absolutely thrown you for a loop. 

Hugs are exchanged and with nowhere to run, introductions made.  Melissa puts on her best act, but you can see she’s tense.  You’d talked about her meeting your parents, but them turning up out of the blue at Abbott was not the plan.

Your mum suggests dinner and a chance to sit down and talk properly.  The name of the restaurant she suggests looked nice on the drive over isn’t one you’re familiar with and you automatically counter with a suggestion for an old favourite haunt of you and Melissa’s.  The red head is nervous enough without going somewhere you’ve never been with a whole new menu she’s never looked at.

Thankfully, your parents seem more than happy to go along with your suggestion.  “Great, then how about I call and book, then I can message you with the address and we can meet there in a couple of hours’ time?  Give you guys time to settle in and us to wrap up here?”

*

By the time you both finish seeing your students off, manage to ward off the questions from your colleagues over the sudden appearance of your parents and get home, it’s a rush to get ready for dinner.

Preparations are not helped by Melissa’s panic over what to wear.  You know telling her she looks good in anything isn’t going to help right now, even if it is true.  Instead, you stand behind her where she continues to root through her closet, wrapping your arms tightly around her. 

“I sorry,” you tell her, nuzzling against the back of her neck.  “I know this isn’t how you wanted to meet my parents.  And if I had a choice this isn’t how you’d be meeting them either, but they are here and I’d love for you to meet them.”

She turns in your arms, resting your foreheads together.  “No, I’m sorry.  I’m freaking out and that’s not fair.  I’ve spoken to your parents on the phone and they’re nice people, but I just…”

You shake your head.  “You hate surprises and this is a big one.  So I get it.  Hell, the first time I met your family I was sweating buckets and could hardly string a sentence together.”

At this, Melissa smiles.  “I remember.  You made promise to watch out for sweat patches and take a spare shirt in my bag just in case.”

“You also didn’t leave my side,” you remind her.  “And I won’t leave yours.”

*

It was a promise you intended to keep, but you hadn’t quite factored into this the fact you would need to use the bathroom at some point.  Dinner isn’t exactly going badly.  In actual fact, it’s been going rather well, but you can still feel Melissa tense next to you and can see how tight her smile is.  Slipping you phone off the table, you quickly type a quick note before turning the screen so she can see it.

She offers you a slight nod and you excuse yourself, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before you go.  Your parents are good people.  You know they’re hardly likely to throw any barbs her way while you’re going, but she’s nervous, and you know she has a tendency to blurt out more than she means.  Hopefully, if you’re quick she won’t have time to say anything she would come to regret. 

Placing her hands on the table, Melissa takes a deep breath as you go, forcing herself to keep the smile on her face.  “I’m sure you have questions,” she offers when it’s just her and your parents.  “Or that I might not be quite what you expected.”

“You realise before you, all we got was photos of the city?  Or artwork her kids had done?  Random cats she meets on the street?” asks you mother.  “Since you, we pictures of her.  Smiling, happy, with you.  The city is in the background now.”

Melissa cheeks pink and she ducks her head.  She hadn’t realised there had been such a shift.  To her, with her, you were just as you had always been.  She’d asked her if she minded you sending pictures of the two of you to your friends and family.  The red head had always said as long as she looked good in them and there’s wasn’t too much cleavage she was good with it.  Afterall, much as she likes to showcase the girls, she wants to make a good impression.

Your mother leans across the table slightly, her voice low and tone gentle.  “She’s mentioned you’ve been worried about being a little older than she is.”

At this, Melissa pales, waiting for the cutting comment that’s sure to follow. 

“But,” she goes on, gesturing with her glass as she talks.  “You get to realise that when all your daughter’s favourite films and tv shows seem to revolve around female characters with at least a couple of decades on her, she might have a type.”  She leans back in her chair.  “I mean, she had Cybill on DVD as teenager, never missed an episode of Xena, not to mention the crush she’s had on Meryl Streep forever.”

The laugh has tumbled from her lips before she can stop it, and once she’s started, Melissa finds she can’t stop.  As the tension leaves her body, she can only shake her head and continue laughing.  Of all the things she thought your mother might say, your teenage taste in women were not among them.  “So you…don’t mind?” she asks when she’s calmed herself down. 

“We mind that you care about her,” your dad smiles.  He hadn’t missed the fact that Melissa had held doors for you, sorted your coat on the back of your chair, reminded you that you found the spicy mayo too spicy.  In short, she’d been a gentlewoman.  One that knew you well.  “We mind that she’s herself with you.  You realise you’re the first person she’s ever properly introduced?  Before it’s always been one of her friends let something slip, or we have to make a guess reading between the lines.  But with you she’s excited to tell us about things that you do together.  She doesn’t try and hide that you’re together like she’d done in other relationships.”

At this, she can only smile.  Yes, this may not be how she envisaged meeting your parents, but she’d be lying if she said it’s not going better than she ever could have hoped.  Whenever Jo would introduce her to someone, anyone, it was always with a derogatory comment about how hot a piece of ass she was.  Even if in private his words weren’t always so flattering.  You, however, apparently introduce her as someone you’re happy with.  Someone you share things with.  Who you share yourself with.  It’s a compliment she never realised you kept on giving her.  “I do care about her,” she says softly.  “A lot.  A helluva lot.”

“I’m glad,” smiles your dad.  “Because from what I’ve seen and heard you seem real nice, and I’d hate to have to hate you if you broke my little girl’s heart.”

Melissa holds you father’s gaze.  “I’m not perfect.  A long way from it, actually.  I’m grouchy and hot tempered, but I promise the last thing I want to do is hurt her.  She means too much to me.”  She pauses.  “That, and you’d have to join the queue in kicking my ass if I did.”

Now it’s your mum’s turn to smile.  “Long queue, huh?”

The red head laughs.  “I mean, I gotta lot of ass to kick, but that queue is already round the block.  My best friend at the front of the line.”

“Ouch,” winces your mother. 

“Yeah,” Melissa nods.  “I’ve already been warned that if it comes to picking sides my team is looking slim.  But I have no intention of it ever coming to that.”

Your mother lifts her glass, touching it to Melissa’s.  “Smart woman.”

Returning form the bathroom, you slide back into your seat, immediately feeling the shift in mood at the table.  “Everything okay?”

In answer, Melissa rests her arm along the back of your chair, her fingers gentle stroking the top of your arm.  You raise an eyebrow at the move, only to get a smile in return.  “Everything is great, actually.”

*

It’s not until later that night when you finally ask what had been said when you went to the bathroom.  You hadn’t asked on the car ride home, still riding the high of how well the evening had gone and the couple of glasses of wine that had gone along with it. 

Melissa looks up at you from where she’s propped up in bed, looking through her phone.  “What?” she asks, looking at you over the top of her glasses in a way that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. 

“Tonight, when I went to the bathroom,” you repeat.  “You were all nervous before, then I come back and you’re all fine about it?”

“Your parents are nice people.  Why wouldn’t we get along?” she answers, her words frustratingly vague. 

You narrow your eyes at her, not buying it.  She’s not lying to you.  That much you know.  But you also know there is definitely more to this story.  “What did they say?”

She sighs, putting down her phone.  “All right, so when you went to pee, I asked if they had any questions about, well, me.  My age, that I might not be quite what they expected.”  She pauses with a smirk.  “But your mom told me that actually, I kinda was what they expected?”

At this, you frown.  Melissa is very different to your previous partners, so quite how she’s what your mum expected you’re not quite sure. 

“She told me you have a type.”  Melissa’s smirk is still firmly in place.  It makes you slightly nervous. 

This, again, is news to you.  That you have a type at all, even more that your mother seems to think you have one.  Turning out the light to the bathroom, you pause in the doorway, now not entirely sure you want to hear the rest of the conversation.    

“She seems to think from your younger viewing habits that you like older women,” divulges the red head.  “Cybill Shepherd got a mention.”

At this your cheeks flame red and Melissa’s smile only grows more devious.  She loves getting to tease you.

“So she was right?”

“Oh come on!” you exclaim.  “Cut poor little gay me some slack! between Cybill and that voice of hers, Christine Baranksi and the red head that played the daughter what hope did I have?”

Melissa’s shoulders begin to shake before she finally laughs.  Really laughs. 

You roll your eyes, but part of you can’t help but enjoy the red head’s delight at your reaction.  Turning off the light, you crawl into bed next to her.

“You’re adorable,” says Melissa as she calms down, pulling you into her arms. 

“Shut up,” you mumble into her shoulder.

“Wanna know what else your mom said?”

You groan against her skin.  There was more?”

“I hear you’re a Meryl Streep fan.”  Even without seeing her face, you know she’s grinning. 

“Oh come on!” you exclaim.  “Who isn’t?  The woman is an ever-appealing chameleon.”

The red head nods in the darkness.  “Fair,” she concedes.  “What about Xena?”

You’re glad you’ve turned the lights off as your cheeks flame red.  You’re going to murder your mother.  “I was a fan of strong female lead roles,” you huff defensively.

“Uh huh,” hums Melissa.  “So no credit to the wardrobe department?”

“You’re mean,” you mumble.

She laughs.  “No, I’m not.  I’m just enjoying this glimpse into the inner workings of your formative years.”

Taking your face from where it’s been hidden against her shoulder, you shift to press a kiss to her jaw.  You have to smile.  She’s enjoying this too much, and looking back, your teenage crushes were laughable in their less than subtle nature.  Especially given the fact you had no idea a the time.  “It might amuse you to hear that at the time, I genuinely thought I just preferred shows with strong female characters.  It wasn’t until years later I realised I fancied the absolute pants off them.”

The arm that had been wrapped around you pulls you more tightly to her.  “I’m glad you had that all figured out by the time you met me,” she smiles.  “I wouldn’t have had the patience to wait years.”

[otomes-and-tears]

Can you do another soulmate au with Qiu and Tamarack but mc moves in at step two (I'd assume they'd basically end up the same way without the mc being there)? Qiu in particular would be interesting to see cause of how closed off they are lol

Anyway love your writing ❤️❤️❤️

♦ You can only see grey until you meet your soulmate for the first time with Qiu and Tamarack step 2 ♦

► tags and warnings: Soulmate! Au, Based on this post

► words: 2406

► A/N: Hi! I didn't know if you wanted the same type of soulmate AU or a different kind, so I wrote the same! If you're interested in seeing a different kid, just drop a request and I'll be glad to write something <3

► Masterlist

Tamarack

If the idea of a soulmate, as a child, made Tamarack indifferent, it now filled her with fear.

It wasn’t supposed to be like that, she was sure. Not like she’d ever admit to these feelings to anyone— Finding your soulmate was a goal to strive towards, a consolation on difficult days.

It’s what all romance books centered around. It’s the topic of all of the songs people listen to on the radio, the advice columns on magazines the girls much cooler than her read. 

It’s a daunting notion, perhaps, but a natural one. Her soulmate will appear when she least expects, her world will fill with colours she had never particularly wished to see, and she will be granted a companion for as long as both shall live. The other half of her soul, a missing limb she had never noticed was gone.

But how could she ever muster up excitement for it when her future was so uncertain?

Maybe her soulmate was back at her old home, at the school she’d have attended if her parents had kept her instead of leaving her with her grandparents. Or maybe, if they followed through on their promises to take her back, she’d just miss her soulmate moving into the perpetually empty, likely haunted, house in the middle of the cul-de-sac.

A soulmate could be the anchor she’d always wished for, a tether somewhere, but it could just as easily twist into another loss, another painful what-if to occupy her thoughts.

And losing the one thing you wished for isn’t terrifying?

So she continues living her life. Hoping that she’s just another person to meet their soulmate just a little later in life— her parents had met in college, after all. Things would just work out if the universe could hold out for just a while longer, until her family’s mess could finally settle itself or she was old enough to make her own choices, put down roots somewhere she was certain they wouldn’t be cruelly ripped out the soil. 

She had heard many tragic tales of the sort, after all. Soulmates that meet briefly only to be torn apart. People who are meant to each other, but who are destined to just weave in and out of each other’s lives, only having brief, blissful moments together.

She hates to admit it, but the idea of suffering such a fate keeps her awake, sometimes.

Tamarack was tired of holding her breath and waiting for other people to make decisions for her. Soulmates were a cosmic matter, beyond the reach of any plea or plan. And if people could be fickle and unreliable, she doubted the universe would be any more inclined to listen to her wishes.

Every year that passed, with her world continuing to be coloured in the greyscale she was so fond of, made her just a little more hopeful, dimming the fear and anxiety she had long grown used to.

But things have a way of changing when you least expect it.

This Halloween was different. It was her first as a teenager, and she had obsessed over her costume for weeks. How could she not? Everything felt more important this year, like the tiniest details suddenly carried the weight of her entire identity. Adding to the excitement, her Omi had mentioned something Tamarack couldn’t stop thinking about: after years of vacancy, someone had finally moved into the empty house next door.

Before she could head out for her own festivities, her omi invites her to deliver her homemade sweets to the new neighbours.

Tamarack stood on the porch of her grandparents’ house, the evening’s chill nipping at her nose. She adjusted her cape— a flimsy, dollar-store last minute addition to an otherwise well-planned witch costume. Her Omi had insisted on the traditional sweets, meticulously wrapped and sealed in clear plastic with small bows. Tamarack clutched the basket, feeling every bit the reluctant Little Red Riding Hood.

“Go on, sweetheart…” her Omi urged from the doorway, every bit as boisterous as she always was “First impressions are important!”

First impressions, Tamarack thought bitterly, only mattered if you planned on sticking around. Still, she trudged across the lawn to the new neighbor’s house, pausing at the edge of the worn wood porch, and the sparse decorations out on the lawn. It brought a smile to her face— the residents had likely not fully moved in yet, but they at the very least bothered to decorate for the occasion.

Her heart thudded as she raised a hand to knock, suddenly a little nervous. She looks back at her grandmother, who seems impatient enough to do it for her when suddenly…

The door swung open, and Tamarack’s breath caught in her throat.

A kid stood there, about her age, also wearing a costume, trying to add in the last accessories while answering the door. Behind them, she can see boxes piled into the living room.

“Uh, hi…” they said, eyes darting to the basket in her hands. “Trick-or-treat?”

Tamarack blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of the basket.

“Oh, um, no. I mean, yes. Sort of? My grandmother…”  She looks back towards her grandmother for a moment “Wanted me to bring these over.” 

Before she can offers the sweets, the kid’s mother, appears behind them— her Omi’s attention quickly shifting to the other adult as they commence introductions. Tamarack shyly, albeing awkwardly thrusts the basket forward, as a peace offering. 

Her new neighbour looks up for the first time, her red eyes meeting theirs.

It was like a silent firework had gone off in her mind, flooding every corner with color. The drab greyscale of the world she had grown so accustomed to was suddenly replaced by shades she didn’t have words for. The red of their costume was vibrant and rich, and the soft yellow light from the porch lamp bathed their features in a warmth that seemed dream-like.

Her knees felt weak, and her hands trembled as she tried to process the transformation. She glanced down at her own costume, marveling at the green hue of her skirt, the deep black of her cape that somehow seemed darker than before.

They were staring at her, wide-eyed. Their grip on the basket slackened, and a few candies tumbled out.

 “You’re seeing it too, right?” they whispered.

Tamarack nodded slowly. She leans down to grab the fallen candies just as her soulmate does. When their hands touch, they both pull back like it’s fire.  

The moment is awkward for just a second— before she laughs, and accompanies her.

Her heart pounded in her chest as a thousand thoughts jumbled together—fear, confusion, disbelief. She had spent years imagining this, dreading it, preparing for a moment that always seemed far away, out of reach.

Now, it was here.

Her world had changed in the blink of an eye, and she hadn’t even had time to catch her breath.

“I wasn’t ready for this.” 

She admitted softly, barely more than a whisper. The fallen candies back in her basket, and her heart feeling just a tad lighter.

“Same…” Her soulmate replied, in disbelief. “Well… It isn’t as bad like I feared it would be.”

Surprisingly, she shares the sentiment. 

Behind them, her Omi and MC’s mother were deep in conversation, already swapping stories and laughter as though they had known each other forever.

Tamarack barely noticed. Everything around her felt distant— muted compared to the colors she couldn’t stop staring at.

She forced herself to take a breath, steadying her nerves. This wasn’t what she had planned. It wasn’t what she wanted. But maybe… maybe it didn’t have to be as terrifying as she thought. Maybe this wasn’t the end of her carefully constructed world, but the start of something else.

Qiu

There was once a time in which Qiu longed to find their soulmate.

Back when things were brighter, easier. When the idea of finding the person that stood on the other side of their invisible string felt like an inevitability, a cheat code to meeting a new friend— their perfect equal, the way to make their life just a little more perfect. Golden grove was a little boring, but it was a little town brimming with potential, filled with wonderful things, little secrets, they knew of, and they were eager to share with their perfect match.

That hope belonged to a different version of Qiu, though.

A younger, more naive one. The boy with sparkling eyes and an eager need to please who he once believed themselves to be.

Now, it felt like a memory from someone else’s life, not their own. 

Regardless, it was a hope Qiu had held onto for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Even when things became less certain, and making new friends became a chore rather than an exciting prospect, they still hoped anyway.

Fantasised about their eyes meeting when they took their bows at the end of a ballet recital, the world blooming into colour as they found them in a crowd, eyes soft and adoring, their appearance shifting with every second they conjured their little daydream— not knowing what they would look like, but wishing that, just at having a glimpse of them in a dream, Qiu would just know.

Or perhaps in the bustling halls of school, a casual brush of shoulders with a new transfer student would change everything.

It occupied their thoughts during boring classes or frustrating days when no one understood them, no matter how much they tried to speak: the ever-shifting face of their soulmate, the kind eyes, the idea that someone would be able to tell them who they were, someone who’d instinctively know.

Not having found their soulmate, despite their increasingly desperate attempts to do so throughout their childhood, had been just another in a long list of disappointments in Qiu’s life. 

It was just another testament to a fact that terrified them: they didn’t know who they were, nor who they were supposed to be. People around them had an idea— expectations, their own stifling view of who Qiu Lin was, and the more they insisted on it, the less Qiu wished to fulfil their expectations.

Like with most other things, in recent times, they had just stopped trying.

Why should they even bother with a soulmate, anyway? They had lost so much time together already. The colours their parents had described sounded headache inducing, the idea of a soulmate stifling in a way it hadn’t before. They stopped greeting colleagues in the hallways and avoided any chance to meet new people. Their friendship circle was small, and ever dwindling— And it was better this way. 

A soulmate would just be another person to disappoint, after all. Like the list wasn’t long enough already. It was better for them, and for the poor soul tethered to them, if they didn’t meet at all.

For that reason, the first day of high school was terrifying.

Golden Grove’s only school rarely got transfers. The golden-haired whirlwind that was Tamarack, their neighbour, had been an exception. But what made Qiu particularly anxious was the sinking feeling that this was it. That something was in the air. Some deep, impending change they were too small to ever possibly stop.

They couldn’t stop it, but they could delay it, whoever.

If locking themselves in their room wasn’t an option, which Qiu was sure it wasn’t, then the solution was simple. Instead of heading straight to school, Qiu veered off course, slipping into the woods that gave Golden Grove its name. The golden leaves heralding autumn crunched beneath their sneakers as they made their way to the old bridge over the creek. It was a cherished spot, a secret place they’d often escaped to as a kid.

The boy’s club, with Tamarack as an honorary member, had once made it their domain.

They throw their gym bag on the floor, huffing as it falls with a thump on the top steps, leading to the small bridge. Qiu slumps right beside it, fishing their phone out of their pockets to shoot a quick message to Ren, reassuring him that they’d show up eventually, and putting some music on.

The crisp morning air helped clear their thoughts, even if the anxiety still simmered beneath the surface.

Skipping a few hours of school seemed worth the inevitable lecture they’d get at home. For now, they could breathe, even if just for a little.

“Excuse me…”

An unknown voice sounds from right behind them, above the sound of their music. They’re momentarily taken aback. No one ever came here. It was a local secret. Who else would be in a bridge in the woods in the early morning hours?

A gasp escaped their lips as the vibrant hues overwhelmed them. Blues, oranges, and reds assaulted their senses, a kaleidoscope of shades they had no names for.

It was too much.

Qiu squeezed their eyes shut, reeling from the sudden intensity.

The stranger staggered too, pages from a notepad— Qiu’s notepad,  slipping from their grasp and scattering across the bridge steps. Their wide eyes darted around as if trying to process the same blinding shift.

Qiu’s heart raced, cautiously grabbing one of the fallen pages. A note they had made a few weeks ago on ideas for Ren’s birthday gift. 

Had they led their soulmate straight to them without realizing it? The colours were no less dazzling now that they started getting used to them, but the feeling was slightly more bearable. The stranger’s hair gleamed like sunlight, their features sharp yet soft, framed by a hesitant, confused, smile.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked, voice shaky but kind. They crouched to gather the rest of the  fallen pages, glancing up at Qiu with equal parts concern and awe.

Qiu’s mouth went dry. Words tumbled through their mind but refused to align into a coherent sentence.

They’d dreamed of this moment for years, yet nothing had prepared them for the overwhelming reality of actually meeting them.

“I…” They swallowed hard, trying again. “I didn’t think…”

The stranger smiled softly, offering a hand. 

“Me neither.”

Qiu hesitated before taking it.

Their hands touched, and the colors seemed to pulse, brighter and warmer, as if the universe was reaffirming the connection. For the first time in years, Qiu felt a glimmer of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, they hadn’t been wrong to dream after all.

[tacticaldiary]

Roses and Purple Scarves

PAIRING: Spencer Reid x Reader

SYNOPSIS: He catches her eyes in the window's reflection, and there's a small part of him that's waiting to catch the frown on her face, or see her nodding along while looking down at her phone pretending to listen.

His heart skips a beat when he finds her looking directly at him with a smile, eyes so soft and interested it makes something warm settle in the pit of his stomach.

NOTE: I am NOT taking requests at the moment.

"Spencer I don't need more flowers," She laughs, trying to yank at his arm to get him moving. It's to no avail by the way he stays rooted to the spot in front of the display window. "I still have the last bouquet in a vase at home."

"I know." He says it so matter of factly, it makes her raise her brows and stop tugging.

"What do you mean 'you know?'" She relents, joining him to look into the store's window.

"I keep a flower from all your bouquets for myself. That way I know when they wilt so I can get you new ones." She's stunned at the answer, the gesture is so thoughtful and...and nice. It's so Spencer, and by the half smile on his face he's trying to hide, he knows it too.

"You're too good to me." She says after a beat, meeting his eyes in the window's reflection, "I don't need a dozen roses to know you love me, for the record...but they are appreciated."

"Flower language." Spencer hums, peering through the glass at the colorful array of petals. "It's fascinating actually, people tend to associate the origin of floriography to be from the old victorian era, but traces of meaning can be tracked all the way back to Persia and the Middle East much before that." He catches her eyes in the window's reflection, and there's a small part of him that's waiting to catch the frown on her face, or see her nodding along while looking down at her phone pretending to listen.

His heart skips a beat when he finds her looking directly at him with a smile, eyes so soft and interested it makes something warm settle in the pit of his stomach. Spencer blinks, turns to face her for real. "I read a book about it a while ago," He shrugs, offering her a smile.

"I'd love to borrow it sometime." She responds, looping their arms together. It's a chilly day, snowflakes peppering down casing the cobblestone street below in specks of icy white.

"Really?" Spencer raises an eyebrow.

"You know I love flowers." She confirms as they continue down the little street. "I've always wanted to have a garden of my own, but the balcony of my apartment isn't big enough."

Spencer listens attentively, keeping her close to his side. It's instinct, the way his gloved hand rests against her waist as they walk, the gentle push and pull of weaving through among other people going this way and that. The contact makes her feel warm and wanted, a small gesture that encompasses all of what Spencer is.

Meaningful. If she could describe Dr Spencer Reid with one word, it would be meaningful. Everything he does is purposeful and attentive.

Remembering how she takes her coffee in the mornings without her ever mentioning it. Watching her frown at the days crossword because he knows that if she wants his help she'll ask for it (even if Spencer can't help but cringe at her sighing dramatically loud at a puzzle he'd solved in his head 25 minutes ago). It was the little things, woven with meaning that made her feel seen.

Made her feel understood.

Reaching down between them, she grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers, squeezing gently.

"You could always look into aeroponics." Spencer smiles as they come to a stop in front of a crosswalk. He pushes the button with his elbow and the both of them are left to wait for the indication to cross.

"The exposed roots freak me out." Remembering the pictures she's seen sends a shudder down her spine. "I mean, it doesn't look natural does it? Plants were meant to come from the earth, watching them dangling in the air just feels wrong," When she glances up to gauge his agreement, the rest of the words die on her tongue.

Spencer stares at her with a soft smile and enamoured eyes. If you asked him, he wouldn't be able to repeat half of what she'd just said despite his impressive memory.

It's frightening, how often he gets lost in her. In the way she furrows her brow, the manner in which she moves and the cadence of her voice that make him lean in closer to hang on to every small inflection like a siren's melody.

"What?" She asks, brow furrowed. "Have I got something-" He leans down and steals the words from her before she can finish, kissing her soft but firm, hands tangling in the hair at the back of her head. He can't help it, especially when he sees the little parts of himself that she's adopted, mirrored from how much time they spend together. Time and time again she's assured him that she thinks his monologues and rambling are endearing, pulled him out of his head with sweet words and lips when he gets too wrapped up in himself.

He's starting to understand. Watching her talk about roots and plants...God, she could talk about paint drying and he'd listen and commit each word to memory.

Kissing Spencer isn't fireworks.

It's a symphony.

From start to finish, he puts his heart into every movement, feeling bleeding into every quirk of his hands, every tilt of his head.

She mumbles his name against his lips and he barely stops himself from chasing her when she pulls back with a hand on his chest. Taking a minute to catch her breath, she graces him with a radiant smile that knocks his away. "I didn't know you loved plants that much."

"I love you." He knocks their foreheads together.

The indicator flashes green across the street, prompting them to cross, but the two stay where they are letting the atmosphere sink in. Spencer smiles softly, moving to brush off the snowflakes on the shoulders of her coat.

"You're cold." He observes when his hand brush against her neck.

"It is snowing." She smiles. Spencer huffs, unwinding his scarf from around himself. Ignoring her protests, he wraps it around her snugly.

The purple is a horrific clash to her outfit, but it's warm, and it smells like him, the calming scent washing over her as she sinks into it and takes a deep breath. "Won't you be cold?"

"I've survived worse." He chuckles when she smacks his shoulder.

"That's not funny!"

"It's a little funny." He argues, smiling against her lips.

The crosswalk flashes red, cars start moving but the world stays still around them.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(19/04/2024)

[mayasaurusss]

Day one: Mushroom hunting

Today is quiet. Everyone is doing their best to provide for the group: finding wood to burn, gathering herbs or hunting. You sit near the campfire, cutting off wood with the point of the knife to create makeshift arrows. You hear her before you see her. Lottie sit next to you, looking at your work. "What are you doing?" she asks, attempting to small talk with you, only to get shut down by your sour mood. "I'm making an arrow. Isn't it obvious?" she's a little hurt by your words but doesn't say anything. Both of you changed since the crash, and your relastionship is slowly deteriorating away.

You guys never even kiss that much anymore, only exchanging quick pecs here and there. She knows you still love her, and she loves you too, but the impending doom hanging on your head is making it difficult to enjoy anything.

She has to think of something, and fast.

When she sees Mari chopping the remains of meat and herbs, she has an idea. "We should go look for mushrooms" she tells you with that calm voice of hers, getting your attention. "What? But- but I am making-" she shush you before you can finish your sentence. "I know what you are making, but we should go look for food".

"Okay, I'll go take Misty-" you feel her hand pressing down on yours, her dark eyes peering into yours. "Let's go, just the two of us".

"But...Misty can recognize mushrooms..." you point to where the cabin, where Misty is, probably checking in on Ben.

"She's not the only one who can do that" her legs strech as she gets up, towering over your figure, "So? Let's go".

This is how you end up tailing after Lottie, hearing leaves crunch beneath your feet.

"Are you sure you know how to distinguish mushrooms? I'd rather not be accidentally poisoned" you kick a chestnut away, accidentally hitting Lottie's shin with it. She looks at the chestnut, then at you, then again at the chestnut before continuing to walk.

"Yeah. I know mushrooms. I have been reading a lot of books about them" that sound pretty weird coming from Lottie. The tought that one of the most popoular girls at school is truly a nerd at heart is endearing at best.

You let out a small laugh, "What's the sudden interest in mushrooms?" Lottie hums in thought, recalling an old memory of hers.

"When I was little, I had gone to my home's backyard. It rained the night before, so there were mushrooms everywhere". With the point of the knife you used prior, she carves a sign on one of the trees, indicating your passage.

"I was a pretty dumb kid, so I thought that those were just normal mushrooms. I didn't know how to cook them -obviously- so I took a bite out of one". She lets out a small laugh, one that you have missed ever since the crash. "I got food poisoned. My parents had to drive me to the nearest hospital and I had to get a stomach pump".

"So I decided I would study them so I wouldn't get poisoned again. Then I learnt that they're very complex..." she stops for a moment in her tracks, thinking, "...fungi".

"You forgot what they are, didn't you?" you only recive a huffed hum in response. Suddenly, Lottie bends over and inspects the root of a tree. There are various mushrooms growing at the root of the tree, golden and funnel shaped. "These are Chanterelles. They are good for eating" she cuts the stems and places them in her backpack.

"What about these?" you gesture to some white ones with a round top. "Are their gills brown or yellow?" you look to see a reddish brown colour on the underside of the caps.

"Brown" Lottie's voice rings behind you, "Take it, it's edible".

"And these ones?" you point to a small patch of round and flat mushrooms. They are white in colour, darkening to a deep brown towards the centre.

Lottie tails behind you before you can touch them. "No! Don't touch those!" she takes your wrist in her hand and holds it, worry written all over her face. "H-Have you touched them? Are you okay?" the situation is less than ideal to think so, but you can't help but feel a slight hold on your heart when you see Lottie so worked up over your safety.

"Uh- yes, yes I am okay" she breaths out a sigh of relief, helping you stand up. "So...are those very poisonous?", Lottie let's out a worried laugh, "Well, they're called 'Death Cap' so, make of that what you will". Lottie seem absent, having gone silent. "Look" she says, attracting your attention.

The last sunrays are flooding in between the trees, tinting the forest floor with a warm light. You can see the sun peering in between the branches, red like the last flames of a dying fire. Wind blows through the leaves, creating an echo throughout the entire forest.

You are at loss of words, only admiring the beautiful scenery in front of you. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" then there's Lottie, standing as a black figure against the sunrays. She is ethereal.

"Shall we get back?"

You speak, and your voice doesn't truly sounds like yours; your heart cries for something. "I missed you" is what you tell her, earning a sad smile from her, "I know".

[aziraphales-library]

Hi,

Could I ask for some roommate fics? A little pining is great but I'm not a huge fan of too much angst.

There is one roommate fic I remember that I'd love to find again, it was set during lockdown, and azirphale was a virgin but was talking to Agnes on zoom with plans to date. Crowley offers to teach him about sex, and it gets physical, even though they're straight buddies ..of course. 😏

Thankyou

We have a #roommates tag. Here's the one you're looking for and a few more to add...

Not a Mounted Dildo but a Fuck Machine by NaroMoreau, summerofspock (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley have lived together for three years when lockdown goes into effect. When Aziraphale meets a nice girl on Tinder who he thinks is his perfect match, he's delighted. There's just one hurdle: that pesky virginity thing. Lucky for him, Crowley has always been there for him. He's helped Aziraphale with every other problem through the years, why not this one?

Tinder Dates Gone Wrong by OceanLace (E)

Aziraphale decides to take a risk and brings a man home but doesn't realize that his roommate and best friend had the same idea. Things don't turn out the way either of them were expecting but end up exactly how they wanted.

Principles of Proximity by Cannebady (E)

Crowley's plan is to get through grad school in one piece and then live his bachelor dream life. With a less-than-wholesome upbringing and no real human ties to speak of, he's made a life for himself. It's just fine, actually. And he's fine too, while you're at it. Enter new roommate, Aziraphale, who just might teach him the benefits of putting down roots.

…And They Were Roommates by Mimsynims (E)

“You know… I just remembered that Richard and I were going away for a few days next month.” Something devious came over him. “Richard paid for it, but the booking is in my name.” Crowley quickly caught on to what he was getting at. “Ooh, I see. That’s convenient.” He grinned. “For us." When Aziraphale's boyfriend Richard (Dick) breaks up with him, he and his roommate Crowley hijacks an intended couples' vacation and uses it for themselves. Lines that had started to blur even before their trip gets even more blurry - which perhaps isn't the best thing when both are hiding a crush on the other (and communication isn't their strong suit).

make it with you by NaroMoreau (E)

PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY: A romantic couples study!! ------ Aziraphale and Crowley are broke roommates who are struggling to keep up with rent and a harsh landlord. After Crowley loses his job and Aziraphale's bookshop hasn't managed to make enough profit, they'll resort to anything to save what they love, and when they come across with the idea of a paid study for couples... Because some ideas are good until they aren't.

You Can Stay At My Place (And We Can Fall in Love) by IneffableToreshi (E)

Anthony Crowley is an art student with a heart of gold and a broad assumption about himself and his own (apparent lack-of) sexuality. When he meets literary student Aziraphale, he thinks he's found a great friend and possibly the perfect roommate. But when an exceptionally idiotic idea turns into Aziraphale reluctantly agreeing to pretend to be Crowley's boyfriend, Crowley rapidly realizes that he may not have been nearly so asexual as he originally thought...

10,000 Hours by AnnaTheHank (E)

Rich playboy Anthony Crowley has finally broken the last straw. He's been disowned by his grandmother, and turned away by his family. With no money and no where to go, he heads to the old family cabin to lay low until it all blows over. Romance writer A.Z. Fell has been given use of her publisher's cabin to get away from the city and work on her newest book-her first erotica. Neither expected the other to be there, but there they both were. And AZ finds that Crowley's vast knowledge of sex may just make up for her own lacking knowledge when it comes to writing her book.

- Mod D

[angellurgy2]

Hiveship

hii! this is the 1st and 2nd chapter of my new story, as a little show of whats to come when i make it a full-length book.

cw for bug rape but like, its also just an introduction to deeper non/sexual ways the bugs will destroy this girl's soul. you'll see!

i'd appreciate if people checked this out/gassed it up because i've worked reallyyy hard on this for a bit ^-^

CHAPTER 1

A live wire sparks as loretta reaches a gloved claw inside the open electrical box, her digits blunted by her heavily plated and padded, alabaster white cosmonaut suit. she roots around the active electricity, scraping out chunks of the greenish-brown sludge growing in its crevices- the same mysterious viscous slime that’s been popping up in parts across her starship over and over the past few weeks. her theories ranged from an excremetal expulsion of an unidentified space object, to some disgraceful cosmonaut’s trash finding its way into her ship’s vents.

she clicks the button for the analyzing tool of her protective visor, closely examining the fluid. long thin wires splay across all sections of the large junction, leaving burning hot indents in the thick substances that feel like way too much of a fire risk. looking at the wires, spread out in patterned parallels like gigantic spider-webs, an anxious tinge of fear strikes her. don’t fall in, don’t get caught- robots don’t need any more prey. not that you’re prey. you aren’t.

she flicks her visor back off, worried her sweat might fog up the the visor, and continues swiping the rest of the gunk into a bin.

all clean, she fixes the fuses back into place before immediately making her way back over to the equipment corridor to hang up her suit. on the way she passes vibrant posters of mechanical cross-section diagrams, detailed anatomy drawings of every variety of species she could scavenge, and historical propaganda posters. it was a nice splash of existence inside a clinical minimalist coating. 

lounging in the cabin suite on her sofa, she flips her state-provided entertainment console to the galactic news. on-screen a suited, pristine looking woman takes the centre stage behind a stretched out desk. her voice is calm and analytical, with a hint of soft sympathy that can’t be hidden no matter how hard of a professional facade they must put on.

“News from the pandora planets have finally reached the internal core, revealing devastating effects of the latest assault campaign from the exoskeletal hives, multiple colonies’ messengers have reported complete razing of ground and sub-ground infrastructure, with several not appearing for the census at all. the URSS military and all commune bioships have retreated back to pantheon-V for rehabitation before a pandora counter-takeover can be attempted.”

Loretta shudders. the exoskeletals have been advancing deeper into URSS territory much faster than ever before, the fact that the state hasn’t been able to put a stop to it—and that the threat has only gotten more aggressive—makes sweat begin to pour down her head. if she was doing a term with the forces or part of a commune science crew she’d probably be worried for her life right now. thankfully, her ship was currently flying safely in one of the middle systems, relaxing in orbit of an abandoned desert world after recently coming back from a call of excursion to the outer worlds. she always enjoyed the quiet of minimal space travel and the utter lack of civilization when she gazed down upon a world, so this has been her favourite spot to reside for a long while. from the cabin module’s glass wall she can see such stark vistas of sandy mountain ranges, demarcating the most beautiful fields of gigantic outstretching spiny cactus.

with a loud buzz the tv automatically switches to the nightly Sallite news segment, where they broadcast the most important of state propaganda to every television set at 8pm local time. with an exasperated sigh she turns the volume all the way down to 1, takes off her grey tank, and throws herself into her cushioney bed. a switch on the wall next to the alloy headboard turns on the room’s surround sound to a soft pitter of forested rainfall, and she falls asleep in a matter of seconds.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Loretta awakes to the foreign sound of a sloppy wriggling near the floor by the end of her bed. jerking upright, she quickly slides into the suit boots she had laid at the side of her bed, strapping them tight, and moves to examine the intruder. 

a pulsating green slime slides itself across the floor, leaving a small trail of slightly transparent lime goo behind it. loretta kneels to look at it closer. she could swear it’s looking right back at her- though without any obvious eyes or features of its own. it excretes another loud squelching sound and fires off a copper-smelling mist around it, some of which sprays directly into loretta’s face causing her to wince and tear up at the dense cloud of smell. she reflexively slams her booted heel down into the creature, stomping through its gelatinous body.

she attempts to swiftly scrape the thing off her heel,, but the flattened slime spreads to encase her entire boot before she can even look down at it. when she does, she sees sticky lime green half-translucent goo coating the suit metal like adhesive, excreting a slight burning odour. loretta throws her leg around trying to eject the subject, but only manages to trip over herself, tumbling to the thick panelled floor with a resounding thud. 

on her back she watches with wide terrified eyes as the slime continues to slowly expand up her limb. it should be stretching itself out fully by now, but it seems to have an infinite amount of mass to express over her. some kind of anomalous entity from deep space? but how would it have gotten this deep into the middle systems? a new wormhole would’ve been reported immediately, and the nearest systems are all too well-inhabited. the gears turn in her head, clearly rusted over, struggling to think of a potential scientific hypothesis. by the time she breaks out of her clouded monologue and thinks to stop analyzing, the slime has already subsumed her entire left leg, grasping spreading tiny green tendrils grappling for the next part, which is fully uncovered by the comforting protection of the URSS engineer corps. she struggles to force herself away by clawing into the floor, but the slime seems to have extra weight to pin her leg down. such a little creature, overpowering her so easily- it must be alien. she doesn’t stop struggling even if it pins her utterly. if she could just get to the corner and grab her piece she could-

her scrabbling eyes find themselves staring at the cabin’s ceiling vent. a thick bile-like grey sludge seeps down from the cracks, forcing her to hurry. loretta shoves her hand into the green slime against her better judgement, trying to peel it off like one of her mother’s gelatin molds. her hands try to slide underneath it but they find themselves struggling to push against an unmovable solid, far away from the gravyesque consistency it had before. then she feels her legs, or rather, feels the lack of feeling of her legs. when she tries to move them, she cant even muster a shake, lower half pinned to the floor, not even pins or needles remaining. it doesn’t stop her relentless pushing and attempts to pull herself out by her arms, but she might as well be an amputee at this point. like one of those UOA prisoners of war from back in the day, laser neutered to be nothing but working hands for the Authority’s machines.

unable to get away from the oncoming deluge, lorreta realizes it must be relent or die. and so she does, shutting her eyes tight and curling her lips inward together like the anti-parasitites’ studies have taught her. though this wasn’t the typical annalidesque parasite commonly found in the outer cosmos, or a parasite at all for all she knows, it’s the best her dizzy mind can handle. and as she feels the sludge’s drip touch down on her estrogenated skin, it succeeds in helping stop it from flowing inside her eyes. she can feel it coat the skin tight, like a face mask but smelling of wood and suffocating and lively probing at her pores, blocking her vision black with its opaque body.

the sludge now dispensed, loretta senses a chance and attempts to pry the mask off of her. blindly groping for a free spot by her neck and sliding her unkempt nails under it and into the disgusting goo. it feels like a cadaver from anatomy class under her fingers, diving into the fat and peeling away the outer layer. but this corpse has undergone rigor mortis, and loretta’s attempts to peel it off go only slightly better than with the green thing, lifting an inch before it slaps itself back on even tighter. her second attempt goes even worse, her arms starting to feel numb and anaesthetized. she lifts her arms to fight but she cant feel the texture of what she touches anymore, and then the viral limpness travels to the rest of her motor function, and they flop uselessly at her sides. no part of her body responding to her brains frenzied orders to move, the most she can do is flail inside.

she pictures Andromeda-ZE in her mind’s eye, emotionally travelling to the place she spent most her childhood. she’s running through the market, the most well-known place in the capital, excitedly waving at family friends and commune teachers like she’s a kid again, so happy, so free, so ignorant. red and yellow and orange colours shine bright on the market stalls, sand and wood structures stand beautifully tall around her, everything is even more beautiful than it was when she was young. the wind on her cheeks as she runs makes her glow with a safety she doesn’t feel in the atmospheric void in space. not far ahead she spots her unit hut, and ramps up her speed. in a minute of invigorating sprint, she makes it to the large aspen door, knocking 5 times. she hears several light footsteps trot up and bounces with excitement. the door slowly creeps open… 

and a hulking nurse bug towers over her. its mandibles chitter, the egg sack on its back wiggles, and its claws rub together in front of its chest. she looks into the creature’s eyes and sees a thousand mirrors staring back at her. she screams muffled into the slime gag, jolting away from the colour behind her eyelids, and back into the void in front of them. instead of trying to push inside like loretta assumed, the sludge begins to creep into the part of her eye socket above her lids, pushing with prying hair-like digits. her heart cramps, and she can feel her heavy perspiration being immediately absorbed by the material the second it drips.  she doesn’t want to close her eyes, doesn’t want to see the bugs that close again- the spindling inner legs, the slimey chitin, vision of swarms of exoskeletals charging her squad flash through her, all she wants to do is scream but all it does is wear out the last muscles she can work. but she can’t stop, she wails banshily, reverberating in her own skulll. and then she can’t manage to hold her eyes open any longer.

the jointed arthropod returns, fully subsuming her soul. 

“it’s okay, sweet darling Lore, we are here now” it speaks in her mothers voice. sweet and soothing.

CHAPTER 2

loretta wakes up in a stasis vat, her body floating in air like oil. green biofluid drenches her skin, manufactured nutrients flooding her organs, keeping her fed and stable. she smiles, thinking back to her first spacewalk, bounding into the open cosmos with footless steps. she kicks her foot up, sending herself into an airy backflip. her mouth opens on its own and takes in a load of the fluid. it tastes like the earth pineapples her mothers would trade for on her birthdays. she has to figure out what this is when she’s out of here. and by the looks of her motor functions, she’ll be out of this in no time. 

* * *

she awakes groggily inside of another vat. there’s no more fluid, but something similar sticks to every inch of her skin. the walls of steel have turned into a coffinesque cocoon, fleshy and aboreal brown and wriggling with her movements. yet as she attempts to push herself backwards, her hands still find themselves scraping cold metal. she sees how some light manages to seep through the cracks of the chitinous chamber, and prods at the squishy folds where the tiny glowing rays strike, poking through an inch or two of foreign flesh before her fingertips feel air. bio vat? or some sort of.. metamorphosis chamber? she can’t remember how she got here, or when she signed up for such a procedure. she needs to find someone before she gets stuck. she lifts her moist lips to one of the little holes and screams out a plea for help. she manages to fit another finger out, and begins trying to spread open the breach when she’s stopped by someone’s cold fingers pulling hers. one of the scientists, or guards? 

the person outside pulls on loretta’s hand hard and she feels her light body raise up to the roof of her confines. despite her reaching the walls, they keep going, tugging forcing painful friction between her bare limbs and the meaty hide. in a few short, supernatural pulls she is burst through the sac entirely, getting to see chunks of what appears to be sinew and slime splattering the surroundings as she flies through antigravital space and crashes hard into a familiar wall.

HISSSSSSSTHH

innumerous spindly brown limbs bringing fading memories of phasmid anatomy charts stretch out across the polished floor and walls now brutally scattered with keepsake and furniture debris, looking like abstract blobs in loretta’s slime coated vision. blobs which are constantly being absorbed upwards into the air by twitchy movements. loretta grasps at the wall behind her, pulling herself away from the enormous creature. 

slamming into the far wall, she attempts to reach for where her dresser should be, where her trusty sidearm should be awaiting its imminent retrieval. then she remembers the lack of gravity. 

it was a stupid idea to make a grav switch so accessible. she never even uses it, and humans are the only creature out in this abyss who are weak to its pull. stupid stupid stupid. she tries to look for it in the debris but can’t make it out through all the other white and grey blobs. 

in the room, a few brown splotches stand out, utterly foreign to the ship’s shade-based palette. she stares closer, and even more seem to appear. the black space where the open door leads to dark corriders begins spewing them  out en masse until at least two dozen of them scatter across the floors walls and ceiling of the cabin, staring right back into her with beady pinpricked eyes. 

a bug pounces, its thin limbs pinning loretta hard. the hair on its tarsi scrape across her bare arms jolting goosebumps up her entire body. its membranal underside presses up close, making her shake with unease as its squishy segmented body rubs against her and coats her with an inky discharge well familiar to her after multiple campaigns. 

click, click, click, click. clinking mandibles together, like a hungry and petulant child. antennae rub against her ears, just then noticing their dulling by a xenotic wax substance. yet the vile hissing of a group of specially angered freaks still deafens. 

searing pain transports into her flesh. she screams but a sludgey backup in her windpipe stops everything but the vibration. loretta looks down at the thick brown apical claw stuck inches deep in her side. a gaping void begins a slow seeping of crimson.  another of the blobs quickly dashes into her view, bursting into definition as it pops up at the wound’s side. the same black liquid that drapes over her skin begins to leak out of its open mouth-thing, mixing and diluting the blood until the cut is naught but a thick black wall subsuming a portion of her outer thigh. 

she looks forward again as a twinge of neck pain insults her for forgetting herself, and sees the first roach reaching its body upwards. a yonic hole in its abdomen begins to slowly invert, while a large black tendril reaches out of the now-extremity and fluidly twirls itself around loretta’s leg, dripping ichor all the way.

she’d never gotten this close to one of the breeders before, to the point she didn’t even recognize their exotype until now. as far as she knew, they stayed deep inside the tunneled grounds of the hive worlds, fucking like lagomorphs to appease their queens and ever-outbreed the URSS’s onslaughts. and yet, here they are.

the appendage flicks into loretta’s belly, proding at and pushing inside her navel cavity. it feels almost like she’s being licked by a pet dog, or it would if it wasn’t by a fucking bug. the creature tries to push forward past the inch-deep space and is swiftly yanked back in turn, reaching the end of its rope. loretta sighs. if they can’t even reach her then the worst they could probably do is-

the tentacle prods at a lower place before a concept can reach her nerves. a deserted, forgotten plateau, a space too human for her to accept. sliding over a smooth ravine, wet shocks drive up her legs. coiling atrocity digs into her malleable dirt like the hills in pandora. she screams like she imagines it must. though the terror speaks in soft, writhing texture, and not pain. pandora and i, sister bodies- desecrated in twain.

she turns her head to the room’s one window. beyond the hexagonal plasteel frame, one of the last things held up through the chaos, halcyon skies stretch out for infinity- vistas of beautiful achromatic calm broken only by dots of terrestrial colour. an anaerobic dead zone, where nothing except calm would subsume her. devour her. she yearns to feel that cold blanket take her now. she dreams of the window bursting open, space gaining pressure the glass wasn’t ready for, and ripping them all out with it. she dreams of mom bursting through the door gun in hand. she dreams of simply disappearing from all being. 

from above her head slithers another pair of mandible and trio of forceps, digging into her budding chest. a sparse pink miasma sprays across her vision, and she’s stumbled out of her wonder by a furious coughing fit rising in her trachea, and finally taking off some of the adhesive coating her throat alongside it. she tries to look back outside and the claws digging deeper just force her gaze right back. her eyes glaze over with water and, unable to wipe the sleeves away, it drowns her. it fills her mouth until her muscles strain, spread taught like an epithelial fingertrap. she cant help but cough more, painfully clenching on the foreign object sliding deeper inside using her windpipe as a transistor to her weak points.

beige meat squishes up against her face, phantom sensations of a man’s stomach thrusting. it should never have been able to get more evil than that. how did they put human’s cruelty into animals, was it taught? more inches of squishish meat force the thought from her shrouded head. her tears taste like ink. maybe they like it that way.

Lorettas’s hull stretches with fullness and terror. she cant see it, but she can feel it bulging her front extremitously. it feels like the two tendrils will soon meet in the middle. she shudders in fear and feels them swirl inside her as punishment. 

she feels a slight relent, and her thoughts finally losing their haze. the creatures in front of her thrust backwards through the air, and the twisting coiling tentacles whorl their way out like a pullcord. again she has to feel the thing climb her hole, leaving a painful space where there used to be nothing, unable to go back to nothing. it is ashamed and sobbing in it’s own. what a bipolar old lady you are, where is your rage?

his voice forces itself inside of her. look what you’ve done. ruined and irreparable. you must’ve loved it. you and your little bug fascination. maybe if you didn’t spend your time with abominations, you wouldn’t have become one. 

she screams back. it’s not too late, i don’t love them. he’ll never control me again, i’ve carved so much into the world, i won’t let myself be belittled. you’re smart, they’re miniscule- a surprise assault shows their utter lack of strength. i’ll kill them all if i have to. i’ll prove it, i will.

she tries to open her eyes again and sees, stained by pink clouds floating in her sclera, a huge mutated insectoid towering behind the others. a large dynastinaen horn displays ignorant ideas of its strength above its excitedly quivering mandibles. or perhaps the exoskeletals have no need for concepts of pride or egotism. perhaps hive mentality’s destroyal of the individual will always grant them an advantage. no thought of the victim- evil little creatures. no different than the evil of the Authority. no different than-

two blunt black mandibles thrust into her chest. the wind is crushed from her body before she can realize what’s happening. she is too dazed to look at the impact. her deflated cadaver is thrusted into the air, and carried,

her vision bobs up and down as swift twig limbs drag her forth without thought. station windows fly past her, blobs vaguely looking like her favourite posters lay scattered and sliced in pieces, slime staining them irreparable as it coats the floor. does their cruelty know no limits? was the destruction of her ship and her spirit not enough? the destruction of her people? will anything sway their pure evil? she wants to cry, but she’s already using all the tears her body can muster. 

black begins to gorge itself on the halls, the chunky whirring of automatic doors blares in her ears drowning out the chattering sounds of dozens of limbs. the hydraulics were a deeply familiar sound, one she had always cherished hearing. it felt like a reminder of the spacecraft’s life, always interacting to her existence, responding in kind noise whenever loretta’d root around fixing her insides. it was a comforting relationship, wonderful in its unconditionality.

now, her beautiful partner screamed red with anger. they destroyed her entrance too. the airlocks outer seal is burst open with what could fairly be assumed to be anti-ship cannons, if not for the claw marks and acid tainting it all. she looks through the inner seal, into the void where death surely awaits, her body has been so painfully torn and remade, that she can’t make herself put up a single limb to fight at the end. she imagines a blaster in her hand, and clenches its handle tight. then she opens her eyes, and her fingers havent moved an inch. 

then her face meets cold surface, jagged. then the green drapes grab onto her skin again. then her blood mixes with the green and turns the colour to the same rust she smelled in the air at the start. then she feels the perfectly held-at-average air of her beloved spaceship turn into cold freezing anguish of the outside. then she feels her body turn to nothing. then, she feels nothing at all.

[coralhoneyrose]

I was wondering: what do you imagine Robin's childhood was like? Did feh change that in any way?

Oooh what an interesting question! Admittedly, I haven't thought about this in extensive detail, but I do definitely have Some Thoughts™️.

So, we obviously don't get much to go off in canon. Validar says that Robin's mother was "seized by weakness and fear" and that "she betrayed us—stole you from your crib, and fled with you in the night!" and then adds that he knows "naught of [Robin's] life thereafter". Presumably the 'us' there is referring to the Grimleal…and if she betrayed them as a collective group she must have been a part of said group previously. The fact that Validar says she stole Robin from their crib also implies that she ran away with them sometime between birth and age 3-ish.

If she was trying to get away from the Grimleal, I assume she would have wanted to leave Plegia if at all possible. We know that the last war between Ylisse and Plegia ended about 15 years before the start of the game, though. So if we assume Robin is about the same age as Chrom (19) then that would have put Robin around four years of age when the war ended. So either Robin's mom was trying to make do in Plegia for a while, or they potentially hid out in Ferox for a time. When it comes to my personal writing, I admittedly like to play with those timelines a bit, but that's my best guess for how things went down in game.

Either way, I assume they probably lived an extremely nomadic life style. They couldn't risk being found, which means they also couldn't really risk putting down roots or settling in one place long term. I imagine Robin was probably very lonely growing up, as all that moving around and having to lay low would mean they didn't have much of a chance to make friendships with other children. Presumably the trend continued into their adult life too given that no one in the story (aside from Validar) ever recognizes Robin or remembers them from prior to when they met Chrom. If that's something that was so lacking in their life previously, I think it makes the game's messages about the importance of the connections we choose all the more meaningful. Also I am just really partial to the idea of Robin being touch starved prior to meeting the Shepherds and Chrom's subsequent touchiness and familiarity with them taking them completely by surprise as a result haha

Honestly I suspect a lot of that is why they came to love books so much too. The books were an escape to other worlds but they would have been a small slice of stability as well, since a story is the same every time you read it. They may not have had friends in real life, but the characters in their books would have always been there for them between the pages. I imagine Robin got very good at amusing themself too and probably had a very rich imagination growing up. The fact that they traveled to so many different places may also have played into them developing their strong sense of curiosity.

I'm sort of undecided on what point in Robin's life I imagine that they lost their mother / how exactly they lost her. That's one of the things that's always really interesting to see other fan's interpretations of, as there are a variety of interesting possibilities there. Either way, given that Robin's inability to have made many connections outside of their mother, I imagine they took it incredibly hard.

As far as if FEH impacted my interpretations in any way, I would say it didn't really change them, but that it did fill in some details for me! Robin's coat being visibly too big for them strongly implies it was a hand-me-down from their mother for one thing (which I'd sort of assumed before but never had direct confirmation of). I'd also been very curious just how much Robin understood about who they were on the run from / why they were hiding, so hearing that their mother cautioned them to keep their hand hidden and that they do seem to have some sense of that being the source of their power as well as 'an evil omen of an unlucky fate' was very interesting as well.

That's everything that comes to mind at the moment! ASfhsdf I like that I started by saying I haven't thought about it in extensive detail and then proceeded to type all of this up...But honestly, writing all my thoughts out wound up being super helpful for organizing them. It also has my chrobin brain-cell vibrating at high speed going into the weekend, so you have my gratitude, anon! Thank you for giving me such a prime opportunity to talk about one of my favs <3

[litnerdwrites]

Azriel in Silver Flames

I've basically hated the IC since... Acowar, honestly. But the more I think about it, the more conflicted I am about Azriel. I liked him in every book, but in retrospect, I'm not so sure anymore. This is mostly regarding his treatment of Nesta, since he honestly didn't do much before hand the start of Silver Flames, and he didn't do too much during it either.

I understand why Azriel would stay away from Nesta from the end of ACOWAR to the start of Silver Flames. He's observant, and I imagine he's figured out that Nesta doesn't want to spend time with the IC. Moreover, he may also see it as being in Feyre's jurisdiction, and wanting to stay out of it out of respect for her privacy and what not. It's his behaviour through out silver flames that has me conflicted.

Azriel was raised in confinement with limited interactions with other people. He saw his mother once a week, for limited time and suffered physical and verbal abuse, and torture during that time. He had no control over his schedule, food, social interactions, nothing. Yet, despite that, he allowed Nesta to be isolated and kept on a strict schedule and diet that she has no say in, and we never see any signs of him arguing against it. Especially since he knows being locked up somewhere against your will, where you can't leave, often made to do things you don't want, is what most of the IC's trauma roots from (Amren in the Prison, Rhys UTM, Feyre UTM, Mor in the CON, Azriel in his father's dungeon, etc). Why the, seemingly, most sensible person allowed this is beyond me.

Azriel, through out the book, never protests against this treatment either. He treats Nesta decently, though that is the absolute minimum. She should've been treated like that, regardless, of where she was or what she was doing.

He despises Illyria, knows the dangers out there, from both males and whatever's in those forests, yet he doesn't protest against Nesta going. We've seen that there are days where she wanders around on her own (like when she went to Emerie's), without protection. What would happen if she jumped off a cliff or a steep bluff? Or if she went into the forests? What about if some of the males attacked her? It's not like she was constantly supervised. trusting her witch status will keep them away is too risky, since some might not care. Azriel knows the dangers of Illyria, and he let her be taken there. He saw how Illyria hurt his mother, and how she was treated, first hand.

He doesn't do anything even after suspecting that Cassian pushed her down the stairs, or witnessing her being verbally abused by Cassian, and Rhys when he cares to show up. He doesn't defend her, or shut his brothers down, he just lets it happen, seemingly unbothered. Idk about you, but if I was at dinner, and my brother said to his girlfriend, the things that Cassian says to Nesta, I'd drag him out the front door by the hair myself.

Azriel also had a bag packed for Nesta and Cassian's hike from hell, waiting for Cassian to come get it. He let Cassian take Nesta somewhere else against her will. He, presumably, knew about the plan to take her on that hike, helped prepare for it, and just let it happen without a care. He knew where they were taking her, and what they were going to make her do, and he let it happen.

Then there's the issue regarding the Trove. Azriel pushes for Nesta's right to know about what her powers can do, yet he doesn't have any issue pushing her into life threatening situation to keep Elain from it? He says that Elain shouldn't be exposed to whatever darkness the trove and cauldron possess, but that alone implies that Nesta should be exposed to it, and that's despite her mental condition at the time.

While I don't think Azriel's status as a spymaster means he should know things like Nesta's fear of fire, and her suicidal ideation, but it does mean that there's a very good chance that he does (and yet he still sends her on that hike). Knowing this, Azriel implies that Nesta should go on these life threatening missions, where she could be killed, or commit suicide, or be taken.

Azriel is shown to stand up to/argue with Rhysand in the bonus chapters. He does so for himself and arguably Elain. Why doesn't he do it for Nesta too?

It's all of these little things that leave a bitter taste in my mouth regarding Azriel.

Would he have tried to beg/force Nesta to go instead of Elain had she refused, or if he would've stood up for Nesta if Cassian had become physically violent with her. If she refused to go on that hike, would he have fought for her right to chose like he did before? If Rhys tried to kill her, would he stand up to him for her? If Elain is mistreated in her book, would he stand up for her? If so, why not Nesta too? How can he call himself her friend if he doesn't at least try to talk about how wrong it is, assuming he even realises it's wrong to start with.

We haven't gotten much of his pov yet, and he doesn't really say much, but from what I have seen, I'm concerned. Azriel may not be actively trying to hurt Nesta, but it feels like he enables his brothers and his court too much.

Didn't Tamlin dod the same, along with his court, who watched Feyre whither away, and did nothing. Even if they didn't see what was happening in her head, they saw her wasting away from lack of sleep or food. Isn't Azriel doing the same to Nesta by letting her be treated that way? Reaming neutral still makes him part of the problem, doesn't it?

Am I the only one who gets this bad taste in my mouth when I think about this?

[space-blue]

DO YOU KNOW WHAT!! I had to go check the comic I just posted, as in that case I did not time the blushing intentionally. I mean it must have been in the back of my mind. But I didn't sit there planning this.

his pupils dilate like crazy too and then go back to being small immediately afterwards!! It was so cute

Which means I've also internalised this truth... no matter what Jayce is taken with Viktor... You're so right.

and I bet it’s painfully obvious to silco too haha! Seriously, Jayce is SMITTEN.

also, that one ask where your pondering if vik should be tsahik in training seems really cool!! Plus I’d feel like it would have correlation with his illness and such.but after seeing that human science in ur other comic he’d lose all interest immediately and convince Jayce to give him some human science books

(Speaking of illness, does viktor have his chronical illness in this au?)

DAMN IT I also didn't do the pupils on purpose... I was drawing this on autopilot, I swear...

And yes, Silco will exploit the hell out of that, which is probably also why Vi will be left to flirt with Cait more than she really ought to.. Gotta seduce away as many Humans as possible.

I don't think Viktor will lose interest due to science. I think the one thing he'll flip over is the use of metal and human artefacts. But being an avid student of the mysteries of Eywa, he'd see how they can complement each other.

For example, Viktor would see the dream walker's neural link as something weak and feeble. Eywa could transfer consciousness. The people all "pass" through her, after all.

However, he'd about lose it at cloning. You're saying he could have a new body made, without illness, and then use his own superior technique to transfer bodies? But there's no way Piltover base would grow a whole ass Na'vi over a decade just to please the locals.

Jayce would definitely offer to have a better brace made, and metal pins in his spine, which would be a super contencious thing.

So far what I have is that Viktor was born with a weaker leg, nothing bad, but it made him limp a bit and lose his footing. One day he fall down a cliff face and broke that same leg even worse (hence the scar under the brace)

He's been using braces he makes himself since, and canes where possible. Zaunites live in a large canyon, so there are a lot of steep cliffs, but Viktor's on better footing now. He doesn't have a lung disease, but he has issues due to the amount of time he spends in the caverns beneath. It has a lot of strange gases down there, but if you delve deep, you can access an enormous root of spirit tree, around which zaunites are buried.

He's down there often enough to have coughing issues and allergies. He's generally not super healthy, but not as bad as human Viktor. He's not on a death timer.

I wouldn't want the story to focus on that. Though I really like their timeloop arc for all its visuals, it's just not something I'd want to implement here, though them having new bodies/becoming new people is definitely part of the theme.

[wildflowerteas]

🧃🍄📚🍬 ask game!!

hello rori sorry for taking forever to answer this my family was unionizing against me in a board game okay moving on

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

okay fun niko lore, for context i read very VERY fast, but basically when i was in elementary school my teacher pulled me out of class for thirty minutes and made me read a book and then answer questions about it because apparently my parents ( and her ) didn't believe that I was actually reading and they asked her to test me so basically that's when my distrust of authority began

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

okay this is me coming out as a mark and lucy platonic or romantic relationship truther hear me out when she joined the guild mark immediately latched onto her because he has a lot of siblings and of course he wanted to make her ( orphan ) feel welcomed and a part of something ALSO they have the SAME BIRTHDAY so i hc that he made it a thing to ask her every year to do something together like going bowling or going to a theme park or getting a slice of cake at a local bakery and even though she responds with as much enthusiasm as a brick wall lucy secretly enjoyed it also i think huck and tom ( his little doll guys ) think anne is pretty and like being in the room so they can see her okay that's all brain turned OFF no more thinking abt bsd American redheads

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

all of my opinions are popular opinions i have no original thoughts ever unfortunately. ummmmm maybe that I find people's interpretations of kouyou to be very shallow and black/white-ish and too heavily rooted in fanon content. from what I've seen a lot of people subscribe to: 'oh her design is similar to an oiran's so it's implied she handles the mafia's sex workers and so she must be grooming kyouka' all while her obi being in the front also symbolizes being a widow ( and we know she's been in mourning over her lover being killed ) and her desire to protect kyouka from those feelings is misguided but genuine idk idk i'd need more time to put my thoughts together but tldr i feel like it's always either 'girlboss!mom!' or 'evil woman who is just as bad as mori for reasons i won't specify' and both are fine it's just character interpretation but i don't feel that way about her ( i see her as a selfish, paranoid yes, but a deeply hurt and flawed woman who needs the opportunity to do *good* for someone <- and she does by getting kyouka's papers from the Special Divison transport vehicle ) and it's hard to articulate it.

[wanderingmind867]

These are some of my ideas for a possible season five of the Batman (1966) tv series. I already shared my post with ideas for season four of the tv show. So now i felt it's only fair to try and share all the stuff i had written down here. I think I really took inspiration from some post online where I read about how the League of Assassins was nearly in the Batman '66 comic book. And so that led to me taking Batman in the direction of some sort of spy adventure series for a while. I did manage to work in Man Bat though, so that's a positive for me.

Season 5: Season Five is almost all about Batman on his own. Robin and Batgirl make cameos occasionally, but Batman is now the leading star. Since Madge Blake would definitely be dead by Season 5, I'd have Aunt Harriet be written out too, and I'd replace her with Leslie Thompkins. I know this would all be a comic or animated show if adapted now, but I still want to have some small amount of realism.

This season would be split into two halves, just like the last season. Part One involves the first 30-40 episodes, and it focuses on the League of Assassins. It takes Batman all across the globe, playing the role of international man of mystery. And Part Two (which involves the last 30 or so episodes) focuses more on Batman back in Gotham. The show would get a bit more back to its lighthearted roots, but there'd still be elements of deep drama to the storytelling.

Episodes 1 and 2: Batman (now dealing with the loss of Robin, who left for University) ends up having to face off against The Riddler all alone. In a parallel to how season one of show opened with a dramatic episode involving The Riddler, this episode would reuse that theming to try and show the new direction the show would be taking.

Episodes 3 and 4: Batman deals with The Archer, an old villian who tried to act like a modern day Robin Hood. Now he's gotten even more blatant with his thefts, and he tries to rob Wayne Manor of all it's valuables (since he learned the Manor had less occupants since Dick Grayson and his Aunt left). Batman still manages to stop him, but The Archer really puts up a strong challenge.

Episode 5: Shortly after dealing with The Riddler and The Archer, Batman ends up running into Man Bat for the very first time. It's very much a one for one retelling of Man Bat's first comic story, including the fact that Man Bat escapes Batman's clutches at the very last moment.

Episodes 6 and 7: Batman runs into The Penguin and Egghead, both of whom are competing to steal different rare bird and/or egg themed objects. Batman goes out on the hunt for both of them, and he does eventually manage to capture them. But batman never even realized that these villians had more to their rivalry than just wanting the same objects. No, they were competing for the rights to join the League of Assassins, a prestigious criminal guild looking to expand it's tendrils into Gotham. Lola Lasagne was the one who came to them with the proposal, and she was using them as pawns in the league's schemes. Since she escaped punishment here, she'll be back to menace Batman some other time.

Episode 8: Batman encounters Man Bat again, and this time finally managed to subdue him. But is this really the end of the Man Bat story? Not quite, as there's one more part. But we won't get to see that part until after one more story, sad to say.

Episodes 9, 10 and 11: Batman runs into The Scarecrow, who's looking to break into a science lab to expand the power range of his fear toxin. Batman is too late to stop him, as The Scarecrow successfully tests the fear toxin on him. That's why this is a three parter, by the way. It's because part two is just one long flashback, finally introducing us to all the core events in Bruce Wayne's past. Losing his parents, being raised by his Uncle Phillip, deciding to become batman, etc. But in the end, Batman still manages to defeat Scarecrow.

Episode 12: The conclusion to the long Man Bat saga, wherein Batman has to cure both Kirk Langstrom and his wife Francine of their Bat transformations and mental afflictions. By crashing their wedding, Batman successfully manages to get to them in time to save them from themselves.

Episodes 13 and 14: The Cluemaster and Marsha, Queen of Diamonds team up to commit a series of deadly crimes involving magic and puzzling clues. Batman is almost defeated and killed by this mad team, but he eventually manages to capture them. And once he has them in custody, he learns that they were brought together by the League of Assassins, who had many agents and allies in the Gotham area. Marsha and Cluemaster refuse to rat on their allies, besides giving Batman a clue to investigate in London.

Episode 15: Batman takes off on an cruise to London, little dreaming that Catwoman (Julie Newmar) is also on the boat, planning to hold it for ransom. Her and Batman end up getting in a scuffle over it, but by the time their fight is over, the boat has been utterly ruined. So Batman sends her to jail, and then prepares to take a flight to London instead of a cruise.

Episode 16: With Batman leaving for London, someone has to guard Gotham. So Robin and Batgirl return to Gotham to guard it while Batman is away. While in Gotham, they end up having to deal with both The Joker and The Bookworm, who are competing to steal a rare copy of Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, which has recently been acquired by a famous antiquarian living in Gotham.

Episodes 17 and 18: Arriving in London, Batman ends up fighting off against some old enemies of his: Lord Marmaduke Ffogg and Lady Penelope Peasoup. It turns out that they're the ones responsible for testing Cluemaster and Marsha to see if they were worthy to join the League. But before Batman can get to them, they distract him by sending The Puzzler (yet another of the league's operatives) to bait him into a trap.

The Puzzler leads Batman to a castle near Loch Ness, where him and another of the league's operatives, the young socialite known as Lady Ophelia Keswick bait Batman into a trap involving illusions and drugged food. Batman manages to escape from their trap in the castle dungeons, but he's too late to capture Lord Ffogg and Lady Peasoup. They escaped. But at least Batman can take The Puzzler and Lady Keswick to Scotland Yard. Then it's back to the United States, where Batman has to await news of the League's activities.

Episodes 19 and 20: Batman returns to Gotham City, only to find it's now been taken over by the combined forces of Nora Clavicle, Poison Ivy and The Siren. Turns out Nora Clavicle was an agent of the League too, and now she's planning an extra special trap for Batman and his allies. Locking him in jail and manipulating most of the city's women, it ends up falling on Batgirl and Batwoman's soldiers to save the day and rescue Gotham from the evils of these three villainesses.

Episodes 21 and 22: Robin comes to visit Batman (since he's gotten a two week break from university), and he shows up just in time to help Batman defeat Two Face and his newest scheme to cleave gotham in two (so everything is going to be deformed, like him).

Episode 23 and 24: Lola Lasagne is back, and this time she's gotten Catman to do her will. She's persuaded him that killing Batman would be the perfect way for him to get into the League of Assassins, and the League would be glad to let him continue his illicit big game hunting. So Catman gets involved, and ends up going after Batman, Robin and Catwoman. This is when Batman finally tells Robin about The League of Assassins. After this adventure, Robin goes back to University, leaving Batman alone once again in Gotham.

Episode 25: Batman and Man-Bat end up teaming up to defeat the Getaway Genius (who's broken off from Killer Moth since we last saw him). Only through their combined skills do Batman and Man-Bat manage to bring this crook to justice.

Episodes 26 and 27: Batman has finally found an informant willing to reveal the whereabouts of Lord Marmaduke Ffogg and Lady Penelope Peasoup to him, but just as he gets the info his informant is killed. Now Batman has to stop the last, seemingly desperate scheme of the League of Assassins: Sending Deadshot (one of the world's best hired assassins) out to challenge him. But Batman still defeats him, and then he heads off for Europe to find Lord Ffogg.

Episodes 28, 29 and 30: Batman heads to a small country nestled in the Balkans, where he finally manages to confront Lord Ffogg and Lady Peasoup. But before he can defeat them, they reveal their new ally in the form of Doctor Cassandra Spellcraft and her husband, Cabala. Yes, these two old foes of Batman were also members of the League of Assassins, and Batman has walked right into their trap!

Now trapped in a dungeon, unmasked and at the league's mercy, Batman ends up meeting Talia al Ghul (played by Sophia Loren), daughter of Ra's al Ghul, the head of The League. Teaming up with her, the two of them successfully manage to escape from the dungeon and confront our four antagonists. But in the middle of the scuffle, Lord Ffogg attacks Talia with a blade. And in retaliation, Talia shoots Lord Ffogg in cold blood.

After Batman comforts her for a little while, Talia leaves without a word. She leaves Batman to report Lord Ffogg's death, and to get the other three criminals to jail safely. But now that Batman has made himself known to the highest echelons of this secret society, it's only a matter of time before their leader comes looking for him…

[pynkhues]

i don’t think either louis or lestat fall neatly into fem or masc categories (i actually much prefer transmasc louis hcs, and think there’s more likelihood of exploring lestat’s femininity in the show) and think both are “feminized” by the narrative at different times (lestat as the birther, louis as the scorned wife etc.) but why do so many people think lestat saying “i am she, she is me” was him adopting female pronouns? am i missing something, was he not just saying that he feels strongly connected with the city of new orleans and places (or at least, countries) are usually referred to as she. i think you could even argue that it’s more feminizing to louis, who has always represented new orleans to lestat (e.g. his 1x07 balcony speech).

same for the metaphor about the mother wolf. it’s a feminizing metaphor, but it’s just drawing on the idea of maker as parental figure, not lestat actually coming out as gnc or something. which if he does, if he starts using she/her for himself, that’s cool, i just don’t get the arguments that he already is. this isn’t particularly geared at you, Sophie, but it seems to be a commonly held idea on twitter that was used this past week to shut down arguments that lestat isn’t femme or transfem and i’m not sure i entirely Get It

Yeah, it's an interesting topic! I don't personally see Lestat as coming out as GNC or femme by using female pronouns either, but at the same time, I don't think either of those moments were accidental, nor entirely divorced from Lestat's sense of gender either, his own in the latter, and perhaps both his and Louis' in the former. They're very different beats though, and I think they're rooted in very different emotions. Let's start with the line about New Orleans:

I am She, She is Me

I think there are two really important bits of context here, the first is the concept of a motherland, which I'll circle back to, and the second is grammatical gender.

Not to get too bogged down in linguistics (if you're interested in a very fun and funny book on the topic, particularly as it relates to more modern language and gender though, I'd highly recommend Amanda Montell's Wordslut: A Feminist Guide to Taking Back the English Language), but languages are sometimes separated by whether or not they gender personal and inanimate nouns. Interestingly, the English language used to gender both, but somewhere between the 11th and 14th Century, the language evolved so that only some personal nouns were gendered (i.e. a doctor is an ungendered noun, but actor/actress, waiter/waitress, widower/widow are all still gendered), and the idea of gendering inanimate nouns such as table were pretty much dropped entirely.

Lestat's not a native English speaker though. Lestat's a native French speaker, and French, like Spanish, Russian, Arabic and German, is very much a grammatical gender language. These languages all categorise nouns, from people to objects i.e. table or croissant, to places i.e. le château or even a city like Paris, as either masculine of feminine nouns, but depite them being heavily gendered languages, those gender divisions aren't actually about gender. This Duolingo article goes into it in more detail, but effectively this is just an arbitrary form of noun classification that was built based on sounds many, many years ago.

In that sense, Lestat gendering of New Orleans in the way that he does could really be viewed as a kind of arbitrary language holdover from the fact that his first language is French. New Orleans is a noun, noun's are gendered in French, Lestat's French.

Which kind of folds into this idea of the motherland. There's a really interesting throughline throughout history of people calling the places they're from either fatherland or motherland, and I don't want to get too into the weeds of all of this, but France was arguably one of the first places to put a word to its country as mother, with roots as far back as the early/mid-1500s in terre mere, which has over the years become la mère patrie. This concept is deeply entrenched in many places around the world (you probably have heard terms like 'Mother Russia' and maybe even Bharat Mata, or Mother India, which was a vital part of India's independence movement in the late 1800s), and there's a lot written about what this means and how it builds nationalist sentiment that I won't get into, but why it resonates is pretty much the same everywhere. It calls to the idea that this country, this place, made you and nurtured you. That she is, and always will be home, and, of course, if there is a threat to her, you need to protect her.

SO! Take all that as you will, but both really inform how I interpret that line. I think the gendering is kind of arbitrary on the one hand - Lestat's just French, haha - but I also think he is drawing this really determined line between himself, Louis and New Orleans. I think he's saying that he's claimed this city as a sort of motherland, that it helped nurture and make him in a way perhaps France didn't, that Louis' a part of that, because isn't this city him too? Lestat may have made Louis by turning him, but Louis made him too in a way by marrying him and grounding him and killing and saving him too, and this place that they're now both from is as much a part of them as they are each other. They're all mother and maker and child and lover, and Lestat spent 77 years alone with her, waiting for Louis to come back to them both.

A wolf congratulated for not killing her pups

I actually think of the two that this scene is reflective a bit more of Lestat's sense of himself. I've got a long post in me (/ half drafted in a word doc, haha) about this / the wolfkiller stuff generally, but I do think this scene is directly referencing not just the wolfkilling sequence in the books, but Gabrielle's haunting and powerful monologue in the aftermath of it.

For people who haven't read the book, or just want the refresher, haha, the wolves have come down from the mountains because the winter has been long and they're starving, and Lestat, still human, kills them because the villagers ask him to. The wolves kill his beloved dogs, they attack his horse until Lestat has to kill her himself, and he hunts the pack to survive, only to come back and not be believed by anyone except his mother (an interesting parallel too, given Louis and Claudia are not believed on the stand).

In her monologue, Gabrielle compares Lestat's killing of the wolves to her experience of childbirth. She describes it as an experience that is so completely traumatising, so painful, so disempowering that you're left wounded and bitter with the fact that no one can ever know your experience, and in that isolation exists 'utter loneliness', a phrase Lestat uses in that episode.

Killing the wolves is child birth to a woman who birthed five dead children, it's creation and destruction, life and death, the act of killing is an act of motherhood is an act of isolation is an act of loneliness, and killing those wolves was the reason Magnus picked Lestat - his wolfkiller - it's the reason he rapes him and kills him and births him anew, his own infant death, and Lestat goes on to create and destroy in equal measure, but in that line, he casts himself not as wolfkiller, but as the mother wolf. He's the hunted, starved thing in the Auvergne wilderness with children he couldn't - can't - protect, being rewarded for not eating his own young when the wolves of the Auvergne never did either. He's as powerless as they were then, as powerless as he was in Magnus' tower, as powerless as his mother felt giving birth, as he himself felt in their bedroom with Louis begging him to make them a daughter. It's death and life and birth and motherhood, all tangled up together, and I don't see that line as being so much about gender necessarily, but - -

Yeah.

I think it's definitely about motherhood.

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

The Taming of Man - Dragon-shifting Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader

Ay Yo, Starting a series maybe perhaps??? Idk, felt cute, might delete later. seriously though, lemme know what you think, because I'd really enjoy writing this out all the way.

EXTREMELY BASED ON The Willow Maid by Erutan, pls listen for best experience, lyrics at the end are from this!

words: 1,958

warnings: cursing, blood, probably poorly translated German, reader is she/her and will be AFAB in the future if I write this all the way out

"Fuckin' Bluebloods," Katsuki grumbled to himself, waving the Pyre Pine twig he'd picked up, batting at cobwebs and whipping tall Acrimony Trees. The trees, true to their namesake, warped their crimson roots up through the maroon dirt to try and trip him. He had been in this forest a thousand times before though, and simply dodged them, hopping on top of them as his clunky boots pounded into the ground.

He kicked at popping Portobello's, their ashy and highly spiced spores exploding out with a crackle into what fittingly appeared to be mushroom clouds, and jabbed at the star-shaped Fire flowers, which attempted to burn away his stick with flickering flames and a high-pitched squealing sound. The good thing about Pyre Pines is that they were fire-resistant, so the flowers died without retribution.

Yes, Prince Katsuki of Forrmidūl was in a terrible mood, and it was all thanks to some rich asshole who thought he was better than him. He had met with the prince of Novia earlier that day, Katsuki's mother and Prince Tenya's Father hoping for some kinship between them as the people of their countries were viciously feuding. Sure, the guy was civil, nice even, but Katsuki hated the way he looked at him. Like he was a brute. A savage. He hated the way he picked at their nations best delicacies, scraping off perfectly good Portobello paste, and he hated the way he couldn't do anything about it.

The very remembrance of it made his jaw clench, his fists tightening. He wacked at a blazing thistle with all his strength, the wine-colored stemming tips of the petals shooting off into mini red fireworks. A couple went wayward, flying into the skin of his arm. Shit. They set off, causing wounds similar to ones you might get from being shot with a BB. "God Fucking Dammit," He yelped, gripping at his left tricep and scowling at the dead plant. He swung at it a couple times more, beating the poor thing to a red mess. It wasn't blood, of course, but rather crimson chlorophyll that all plants this ring of the forest contained.

You see, he was currently in the first and largest ring of the Farbenreich Forest, known as either Böse or simply Rot, an area many dared not enter. Sure, other countries sat near the outer rim of it, but none were brave enough to seek entertainment or peace there. The area was highly dangerous, as you could definitely see, and the only people who explored it were highly skilled Dragonborne such as the Soon to be king, Katsuki.

The rings of the rainbow forest went as followed:

Böse or Rot; the ring of Rage

Eisen or Orange; The Ring of Protection

Schatz or Gelb; The Ring of Treasures

Leben or Grün; The Ring of Life

Nebel or Blau; The Ring of Mist

Unbekannt; The Unknown.

Some called Unbekannt, the center, Leela, assuming it'd be purple and follow the pattern of all the other rings, but many simply called it Unbekannt because that's what it was; Unknown. Katsuki had read about each ring in books, craving to know what was in the center, but he himself actually feared it. He never went farther than the very beginnings of Eisen, something deep within him compelling him to turn back.

He sighed, taking a seat on a rock and making sure no moss was present. The vivid memory of traveling this place with his father and sitting on a rock covered in Magma moss still haunts him. If he could recall, he couldn't sit down without being in pain from the burns for a month after. He hung his head for a moment, regaining what little calm he had, and tried to figure out what to do about his little wounds.

They'd heal in no time, surely, but at the moment blood was trickling out of each little indent in his skin. he decided to take off his linen shirt, ripping off the sleeves. He wrapped one around his muscled arm, flexing after securing it to make sure it wouldn't fall off. He took the other one and repeated, adding two layers of protection.

He told his mother he'd go camping tonight, bringing nothing with him so he could truly rough it like he always did, but given the circumstances he decided it'd be best to head back home. He stood up, turning around to head back, before something reached his ears. What was that? The humming of a dragonfly? no, it wasn't dragonfly season...no, it was definitely someone singing. Singing like an angel. He turned to the sound, whipping around but unable to face it. Who the hell was in here?!

He finally pinpointed it, realizing it was coming from deeper in the forest. Dare he wander farther? He heard many a story of mischievous Faerie creatures luring unsuspecting men to their deaths, but it was all fiction. He just wanted to know what it was...who it was...

He hesitantly began walking farther into the woods, his attention no longer on abusing the flora. He stopped periodically to close his eyes, keying in on the sound to be sure he was following it closely. Before he knew it, he was already entering Eisen, The sturdy and squat mahogany trees practically forming a wall, a maze of sorts. Mind you, when I say Mahogany, I mean the color and not the breed of wood we know.

He walked as far as he could, before the grove became too tightly packed for his muscled body to fit through. He looked around, determined to move forward and find the source of the lovely music, before finally looking up. He immediately began to climb up the dense tree formation, climbing for a solid 2 minutes before reaching the top. He stood amongst the tangerine leaves, examining what was before him.

These trees were hardly as tall as Acrimonies, so he couldn't see far, but he could see a break in the amber foliage. He carefully hopped from tree to tree, the leaves and branches unmoving, thanking whatever deity blessed him to have this adventure in the fall when most snakes and other deadly animals were hibernating. He eventually was able to make his way down, already at the joining between Eisen and Schatz.

He looked down, the soft orange grass transitioning into golden shreds. He carefully stepped on the new grass, grass he had never seen the likes of before, and it crunched beneath his feet. Pulling back, He saw that it bent like metal flakes, curling under. He began to continue his trek inward, looking around at the tall and thin fruit trees that appeared to be made of solid gold or silver. They held apples made of ruby, blueberry bushes made of sapphire, acorns of diamond...even the leaves were made of paper thin shreds of metal. Everything was shiny, and it appeased his dragon brain.

He reached up, snatching an apple off its lustrous stem, something that would take the average man all his strength to do. Stuffing it in his pack, he continued to grab up different leaves and gemstone fruits. It was heavy, really fucking heavy, but he was compelled to take as much as possible. At least, he was, before stumbling upon a skull. A human skull. A human skull, who's body was crushed beneath piles of treasure. Yeah...fuck that. He immediately dropped what was in his arms, whatever dragon instinct that had enraptured his brain being forced to silence for a moment.

Besides, that voice was getting louder, meaning he was getting closer. At this point, he could just barely tell that the singing wasn't just a tune, it had words, words that hurt his ears to try and make out at this distance. He shook off the greed he once felt, forcing himself to carry on and simply avoid looking at the stuff around him.

This section felt like the longest because of the fact that he'd have to ignore his animal brain, but it was probably smaller than all the others. He finally reached Leben, the smell hitting him before anything else. He could smell rain, and fresh flowers, and dirt. It was earthy, it was floral, it was life. He stepped to the border, watching the plants fade from gold to green. All around him was green, he'd never seen anything like it.

The trees had spirals of moss growing up the sides, a cool breeze flowing through the flora and ventilating the area. Pink flowers, similar in look to the fire flowers, sat close to the ground, it's petals facing up to the sky. Katsuki watched as a fly slowly and leisurely buzzed past, before one of the flowers shot up and snapped around it like a shark closing its jaws. Good to know.

Katsuki trod through the forest, the damp and rich soil sinking beneath his weighty step, doing his best to touch nothing as he needed to stay cautious. As he moved along, the singing got louder, and he finally could make out a couple words. The ones that stood out to him were "man" and "Forest."

He had to know what this was, who this was. He didn't even realize he had been walking for two hours in total, nor did he realize that the end of Leben was fast approaching.

The air became wetter as he reached Nebel, and he could see the misty area ahead. It was as if there was a wall of fog, a marker for the point of no return. He took a deep breath, gulping a little. "Toughen the fuck up," he muttered to himself, before finally stepping in.

The second he entered the area, it was as if night fell. He couldn't see the sky, nor the plants, nor the ground. Only fog. Even with his night vision he was blind here, and it irritated him. He began to walk forward, keeping his eyes open to try and see the slightest differences, but soon found himself re-entering Leben.

The fuck?

He tried again, and again he was in Leben. He knew now why Unbekannt was Unbekannt. He sighed, closing his eyes. This time, he saw with his ears. He cued in on the beautiful voice, the tone, the words. He slowly began walking towards it, redirecting himself when the sound began to get farther instead of nearer.

Louder and louder the voice became, Clearer and clearer, Until he no longer felt wet fog on his face. He opened his eyes, and what he saw amazed him. The trees were full of life, vibrant with fruit and leaves of all colors hanging from them, wildflowers growing in hefty fields in all arrangements of hue and style, and best of all, the singing maiden.

She was sitting on a ginormous tree stump, centered in the ring of trees, washing her feet in a brook that shimmered in all the colors of the rainbow. Her clothes looked handmade, a sage green dress layered atop a tight silk button up shirt and a white flouncy underskirt. She had more clothing in a basket next to her, presumably to wash.

Song poured from her lips like honey, her face serene as she unknowingly preformed for her audience of one.

"A young man walked through the forest With his quiver and hunting bow He heard a young girl singing And followed the sound below There he found the maiden Who lives in the willow He called to her as she listened From a ring of toadstools red Come with me, my maiden Come from thy willow bed' She looked at him serenely And only shook her head"

you were mesmerizing. You were a faerie.

You guys don't understand, this is BARELY THE BEGINNING 😭 please comment if you want more, really I'd love the feedback.

Check the comments for extra info!