#i was so bewildered by the whole situation that i was only able to say no and start to walk away

[kdelarenta]

oh i'm so cooked 😃

[tojisun]

im shaking in need my god pop star f!reader x hockey player price oh god oh god

EXCLUSIVE: john price (2), goalie for the specgru and a nominee for this year’s vezina, seen holding hands with a budding pop star of the era, five years his junior.

both are seen dining together and walking around downtown after this night's victorious game against the florida shadows. the two seemed to be engrossed in their conversation and are happy with each other.

it is important to note that price had stated two years ago that he was taking himself out of the dating market after divorce with now ex-beau martha castillo, his wife of four years. is he rescinding his statement? when was this relationship formed? did… (subscribe to suns net to read more)

"jesus," john rumbles, his words muffled behind his palm as he sags in his chair. he passes the tablet back to laswell, their manager, and refuses to make eye contact with anyone else in the group.

the team were the first to call him since the incident, the incessant ringing rousing him from his peaceful dream. he stretched his arm out to pluck his phone from the nightstand, careful not to jostle you awake.

in the end, his efforts were futile because your own team reached out to you. unlike the specgru's management team, yours were more prepared for the fiasco, sending threads of emails full of instructions how to deal with the situation.

it's not necessarily a scandal, not with how there were more people reacting in favour of the relationship, but john had always been a private person and he is just not used to how his relationship with you ended up being public just overnight.

it's not your fault, no matter how many times you've told him so. he knew what he was getting into when he pursued you. he told his team, their PR department, and even his parents about what might change. even martha was given a lengthy call, the two of them making arrangements how martha and her new wife could possibly avoid being pulled into the spotlight.

so really, everything's fine. it really is. it's just that you've been ignoring his calls since this all started, running out of his flat with a yelled, "be back!", only to disappear for hours. john is worried.

"lassie’s probably doing work. damage control an' all that—you know how it is in the bizz," johnny says, consoling.

"do you know how the 'bizz' even works, 'tavish?" kyle pipes in.

john hears a choked sound, then an abrupt yelp, before scuffling fills his ears.

great. now his team’s tussling.

“out,” kate’s voice pierces through his thoughts. “you all, out. you’re distracting.”

“but missus!” johnny whines, but he doesn’t get to say any more and john looks up, wanting to see how terrifying kate must have looked like to shut johnny up.

oh, yeah, he thinks. that'd put the fear of god in anyone, alright.

he watches as the team shuffles out, all of them sending him comforting smiles, before he’s left alone with kate and alex. kate sits in front of him. “run it by me again, john. where did she tell you she’d be?"

john licks the back of his teeth, hesitating, but before he can respond, his phone rings. three chirps pass when john was finally able to reach for it, ignoring the bewildered look that alex is giving him—kate, it seems, is not even shocked by how agile john is when it comes to you.

"hello?" he murmurs, turning away from his managers in lieu of privacy. from the reflection of the window, he sees alex look away too, in pretense with john, while kate continues to stare, scrutinizing.

"hi, baby," you chirp with a giggle as if you were not radio silent for four whole hours; the afternoon is about to swell at its peak, the summer sun sweltering from every corner of the city. "i missed you lots."

and just like that, john feels himself relaxing. his shoulders sag in the newfound comfort wafting from within his chest, his bruised lips—he didn't even know he had been biting them in his worry—slipping between his teeth, and his forehead easing from all his frowning.

john feels like he's won another game; like they've defeated the shadows and claimed the cup for themselves already.

"s'alright," he says, a touch softer. "all is well f'r you?"

"all is well," you reply, voice curling like you’re smiling. "i'm gonna do somethin' soon so all i ask is that you trust me, okay?"

"of course," john instantly replies before his mind could even comprehend what you just said. "wait what-"

"okay then. bye!"

the line drops just like that.

"oh god," kate hisses from behind john. john can't quite say he mirrors the sentiment because anything you do is good. everything that you are is bright.

he would trust you with a goal, if he could—you have his heart already, after all.

.

"holy shit!" mactavish shrieks before a phone is shoved underneath john's face.

he goes cross-eyed, blinded by the blue light for a minute, before he is finally able to push johnny's hand away. he plucks the phone from his friend, grunting when the rest of the squad flank him, heads butting his own as they try to get a glimpse of what was on mactavish's phone.

simon begins to laugh while kyle repeats johnny's words.

john can't blame them. holy shit indeed.

it was a new post from you, in instagram. it was a picture he remembers you asking him to take for you from the night before, all coy as you danced in front of him, both of you ignoring the obvious tent underneath his sweats.

"i want a keepsake," you murmured while batting your eyelashes. "please?"

"it's all yours, if you want," john remembers replying, all parched with his need.

"no," you said with a giggle. "a picture's enough."

"okay," he had said with a croak, his eyes blown wide as desire bloats from the pit of his belly.

so here it is now, posted for everyone's eyes in your account, the product of your seduction—you, sitting on the back your legs, stretching out on the bed, clothed in nothing but his jersey for a top—the bold and white-coloured 2 almost covers your whole back—and a black bikini for a bottom.

his eyes flit to the caption: comfy in his shirt. #letsgospecgru

"holy shit," john rasps out loud this time, his need growing teeth.

keller bursts into the locker room. “your turn to post with her merch.” he throws something at john and it is only his reflexes that allows him to catch it with his hands.

he looks at it—it’s a cream jumper sold during the release of your new album. the material is soft, the embroidery so smooth. the logo, even, is beautiful.

say less, he thought, already slipping out of his practice shirt and into the jumper.

.

[image]

pricejhn2: her number one fan #newalbum

[yellowjackets96]

i owe you a black eye and two kisses / angus tully x reader

summary / after defending your best friend’s honor in a scuffle with kountze, he decides to take first aid into his own hands.

warnings / mentions of blood, bruises, and general injuries

word count / 2K even!

heyyy, baby’s first x reader fanfiction! cannot believe i have been alive nearly twenty damn years and never once did this. who crode?

You cannot seem to remember when the blood started to pour from your mouth or the moment you realized Kountze’s nose should not be pointed in that direction, but both moments hit you like a freight train when Angus grabs your arm.

“Holy shit!” he exclaims, fingers prodding at the newborn black eye on your face. “You– you– my god.”

As cooly as possible, you pop your neck to the side and smirk. “Heh. All in a day’s work.”

“You could’ve killed him,” one of Kountze’s goons says, tending to his nose. The blonde bully is shell-shocked, a state of mind you previously believed to be inherently against his nasty nature.

You scoff, shrugging at the lackey. “I’m sure his daddy can help,” you remark, spinning around on your heel and striding out of the room, with a hyped Angus in tow. He’s so energized, he could probably shoot himself off the walls like a projectile and fly back to you like a boomerang.

“I can’t believe you had that in you,” he mutters, still quite bewildered by your sucker punch. “In all my years of knowing you…I don’t think he’ll ever bother me again, now.”

You turn slightly to grin at him. “Hey, I’m glad to hear it. Guy’s a real fuckface and a half. His reign of terror has gone on far too fucking long.”

Once you get to your modest dorm room towards the end of the hall, you feel Angus reach out and touch you once again, and he gazes at you sternly, his expression mirroring a way only your mom looks at you. You roll your eyes, hands not moving from turning the key in the door. “What’s the matter, Tully?”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, a deep grimace on his face. “He was shit-talking me, not you. And now you’ve got a black eye, your lip is busted, and you could’ve lost teeth, and–”

You swiftly cut him off. “So? You’re my best friend. I was simply defending your honor. Little shit shouldn’t be able to get away with mocking your familial situation. It’s not like you can control it.” Twisting the knob to the side, you gently push the door open and step into the room, eyeing him slightly. “You can come in, if you’re not planning on lecturing me.”

“Well,” Angus says, shutting the door behind him. “You can ignore my chastising to high heaven, but you’re still going to need some wound care for the black-and-blue knuckles, swollen eye, and split lip. Even if you don’t wanna ice the bruises and bumps, though, you need to keep the lip stuff from the point of possible infections.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. “Everything that could possibly hurt is just…dully throbbing. And I’m sure all the bleeding was due to how shallow the cuts were. I need nothing more than an ibuprofen and a bandaid.”

For the third time, the boy takes a grip on your arm, lanky digits wrapping around your cold skin gently enough to leave no mark, but firmly enough to stop you definitively in your tracks. “Sit down,” he states, the edge of hoarseness in his voice causing it to be barely above a whisper. “Now.”

You find his forceful tone compelling enough to follow his commands, pushing your swivel chair around until it faces forward and reluctantly take a seat. “Fine. Have it your way.”

“Thank you,” Angus says, winking at you before immediately diving headfirst into rummaging through your cabinets and drawers. “You’re gonna need the whole nine yards of first aid care here. Just be patient, okay? I know from you doing it for me that the process tends to be lengthy.”

“Whatever you say,” you murmur. “As long as you don’t break anything valuable during your expedition into my belongings.”

He turns to you with a hearty smirk, arms filled with cotton pads, alcohol wipes, hydrogen peroxide bottles, bandages, and tweezers, among multiple other things. “Oh yeah?” he says, seemingly challenging you as he places the supplies on the desk behind you. “And what would you do about it if I did?”

“Probably cut up my end of our friendship bracelets,” you reply, not missing a beat. “You don’t even wear yours, anyway.”

Angus does not even need to speak to refute your claim as he pushes his sweater sleeve past his watch, revealing the braided object in question is still on display on the part of his arm that no one can see. Your jaw goes slightly askew at the revelation. “I stand corrected.”

He chuckles, sufficiently satisfied with the exchange as he flips the cap open on one of the peroxide bottles, pressing it against a cotton pad. Once he determines it to be prepared enough for your bloodied mouth, he looks over at you, eyebrows furrowed in thought. A moment of contemplation passes – he closely scans your face up and down, down and up, enough times to be able to sketch it perfectly from memory, as he nods to himself. With a steady step forward, he places the pad between his thumb and pointer finger and goes in, forcefully dabbing it against your bottom lip. All of the miniscule amounts of warmth escapes your body as you roughly suck air in through your teeth, grabbing a fistful of the cuff of his sweater.

“Does that hurt?” Angus asks, wide brown eyes filled with an entire galaxy’s worth of concern. “Be honest with me.”

You grind your teeth, putting as much effort as humanly possible into a brave face. “It stings, that’s for sure.”

He quickly withdraws the soggy gauze from your mouth. “Good news, then, ‘cause I’m already done with it.”

“Shit!” you exclaim, hands flying up to your bottom lip. “Really?”

Snickering at your shocked face, Angus tilts his head to the side, examining your injuries again. “Yup. I think you were right about it being shallow. I’m no med student, but I don’t think it’s at risk of developing any kind of infection.

Melting back into the chair, your face is overtaken by a relaxed smile, in spite of yourself. A few seconds pass before curiosity overtakes you and you peer over your shoulder to ogle at his activity. You’re met with the completely ridiculous sight of him attempting to maneuver a bandaid into a jar of petroleum jelly. “Jesus, Angus!”

He can’t help himself from laughing at your reaction. “What? You didn’t have any ointment!”

“You said my lip’s fine!” you respond. “Unless you were trying to soften the blow of my oncoming sepsis by lying to me.”

He shakes his head emphatically. “No. I just wanted to see if I could make it hurt less for you.”

“It doesn’t,” you insist, waving him off.

“Really?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest in judgment, once again harkening back to something an authority figure in your life would do. “Then why were you tugging at my shirt like a damn seven-year-old at a grocery store?”

You scowl at him, face overtaken by a shade of red that only appears when you’re trying not to laugh at him. “I hate you.”

Angus laughs a sharp ha!, face wrinkled up in a simper as he pulls himself back up to your level, an ice pack in either hand. “No, you don’t. You wouldn’t have kept me around for so long if you did.” He drops the ice packs in your lap and points at your cheek. “I can’t believe you were insisting on letting these wounds take care of themselves, dude. Your cheek’s swollen as hell.”

“How bad is it?” you curiously ask, brows quirked in thought.

“Well, the verdict’s already in that you’ll survive this,” he quips, earning a laugh from you. “So that’s out of the question, but if I didn’t already know you, I’d assume you either victoriously won or pitifully lost a professional boxing match.”

You playfully smack at his shoulder as he breaks into a laughing fit. “It was a compliment!” he defensively mutters, picking up one of the ice packs. “The thing’s a bona fide war wound, I swear. You look badass.”

“You should see the other guy,” you remark, watching him intently as Angus brings a hand up to your face, softly touching the ice pack to your bruise. “Also, I can’t believe you would call me badass. You must be buttering me up for the next time you have a bone to pick with Teddy.”

“Nah,” he denies, raising the pack slightly further up. “You’ve always been badass, ever since we were old enough to speak our minds. It’s a mindset in my eyes, since you never really looked like I imagined one being.”

Your face instantly softens as you gaze at him, studying the way he intently deals with something as uneventful as a bruised cheek. “You’re just being nice because I look like hell.”

Angus pulls his attention away from the ice pack to meet your lingering eyes. “I’m as serious as a car crash. You’ve always had this self-assured attitude, no matter who you were dealing with. The way that I don’t back down from a physical fight is exactly how you are in verbal sparring matches, but you’re, just, so much cooler in terms of that, ‘cause you refuse to relent on your beliefs. I could never be so firm when I speak to people, even if I try my very fuckin’ darndest.”

“I-I had-” you stammer heavily, effectively caught off-guard by his words. “No idea you thought so highly of me. That’s so incredibly sweet.”

“Well, you deserve to hear it,” he says, taking the ice pack off of your face. “You’ve been such a constant in my life, and I seriously don’t know who or where I would be without you. Hell, you even BEGGED your parents to let you transfer to every single school I ended up in post-expellings! I can’t help but idolize you. You were born with an insatiable fighting spirit. Nothing and nobody can get to you.”

Before you can form a single coherent thought, you blurt out four words you would never even dream of saying to Angus Tully. “Can I kiss you?”

Silence falls over the two of you like a curtain as Angus gazes up at you, eyes full of wonder, mouth hanging open. Before long, his lips turn upward in one of his signature smiles. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Lifting his hands up, he gingerly cups your cheeks with his hands and dives in, pressing your lips together in a delicate embrace. You close your eyes on impact, heart lighting up with an intensity you are not sure you have ever felt. Holy shit! Kountze must have killed you! This has to be heaven! The moments pass fleetingly before Angus finally pulls away, a genuine, natural, adorable little grin on his face as he sheepishly doesn’t face you, cheeks burning a soft, passionate pink. You must have been an idiot for never making a move all these years, but at least you finally got struck with the urge to do so.

“Y- your c-ch-” and now, like poetic justice, he is the one who’s been bitten by the stutter bug. “Your cheek looks better already. How about we get some ibuprofen in you and then we – okay, you have to step in if I embarrass myself here – step off of campus to go get some dinner?”

You’re smirking now, trying not to giggle at the unseen shy side he keeps so carefully locked away. “Angus Tully, are you asking me on a date?” He tries his very best not to avoid eye contact with you again as he nervously nods in confirmation. You reach out for his hand, interlocking your fingers together like puzzle pieces. “Well, then. I’d have to say what I’m sure you’ve been waiting to hear come out of my mouth all these years – yes.”

[kikyoupdates]

Goddess Wink ⭑˚💘⭑ 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑

bnha x f!reader

reverse harem, my hero academia x fem!reader, slowburn

Ever since your Quirk first manifested, you’ve been the apple of everyone’s eye. With the goal of becoming a hero, you enroll to U.A. and soon find yourself drawing the attention of many. Will you form genuine connections with others, or is this all just your power's will?

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Mikael brought you to what could only have been described as a castle. It was the biggest residence you’d ever seen in your life, and it could easily accommodate all of the children from the orphanage, with ample room for others.

You stared up at the manor, bewildered. “Are you rich?”

“I suppose you could say that,” he laughed. “There are other attendants that live here as well, so we won’t have this big place all to ourselves.”

“Wow…”

You were used to sharing your room with countless other children, but here no doubt you’d be able to have a room all to yourself. Mikael himself was a rather mysterious man, and he hadn’t explained anything to you yet, but you were starting to feel optimistic about the whole situation. He led you inside, where a woman with her hair tied up into a neat bun was waiting in the lobby. Based on her attire, she looked to be a maid. One of the attendants that Mikael had mentioned, then.

“It’s very nice to meet you, [Name].” The woman bowed her head before you. She had honey-gold hair and violet eyes, and a thick accent that you couldn’t quite place. “My name is Freja. I will be helping take care of you while you’re here.”

“You speak funny,” you remarked.

Freja cracked a smile. “My apologies, miss. I am of Danish descent. Japanese isn’t my first language, but I hope that I speak it well enough that you are still able to understand me.”

“Danish?”

“I go on many travels,” Mikael explained. “I met Freja during one of my travels to Denmark. Now, let me give you a tour of the place and get you settled in. I’ll explain the rest afterwards.”

He grabbed you by the hand and led you through the rest of the mansion. It was even bigger on the inside than how it appeared from the outside. You caught glimpses of the other attendants, but you didn’t stop to chat with them while you were going through the tour. Mikael assured you that you would have a chance to meet everyone properly later. There were more rooms than you could count, and more bathrooms than anyone could ever need, but Mikael explained to you that all of the attendants had their own room, and thus, much of the mansion was actually in use. There were paintings all over the walls and other sculptures and ornamental decorations that looked more expensive than you could possibly comprehend.

Finally, he showed you to your room.

“Amazing!” you exclaimed, immediately bouncing onto the plush bed. “It’s so big!”

It was one of the biggest rooms in the entire place and decorated with your favorite colors. You wondered how he could have possibly known. You were feeling a bit tired from the tour, and now that you’d made it to your room, it’d be nice if he could answer some of your questions.

“Who is Aphrodite?” you asked, clutching a pillow to your chest. Mikael went still for a moment, then smiled, taking a seat by the edge of your bed.

“She is one of the twelve gods of Mount Olympus; one of the most important and revered gods in all of ancient Greece.”

“Greece is a country in Europe.”

“You are correct.”

“But ancient Greece,” you frowned. “That would’ve been a long time ago, no? Why did you call me a descendant of this Aphrodite, then?”

Mikael placed a finger on the tip of your nose. “It’s because of the nature of your Quirk. Your powers emulate those of the goddess Aphrodite herself. Your ability to charm others and create feelings of love, I mean.”

“But that’s just my Quirk,” you protested, pushing his finger away. “What do I have to do with those gods? I don’t get it. And why did you say my powers wouldn’t work on you?”

“I suppose it would be difficult to explain everything all at once, but your powers, essentially, have to do with making others have a feeling of love towards you. It revolves primarily around romantic attraction, but that being said, it isn’t limited to romantic attraction. For instance, you found that at times, your powers worked on the caretakers from the orphanage too, right?” he asked. When you nodded your head, he smiled. “Yes, well, seeing as you are only a child, the feelings they had towards you couldn’t have been romantic attraction. It is possible that people will be swayed by your Quirk even if what they are feeling is platonic love, or familial love. Basically, your powers allow you to endear yourself to others, so that they value you and care for you. Or at the very least, they create an illusion of those feelings for a lasting period of time.”

You frowned. “This is starting to sound really complicated.”

“I’m sorry. You’re still very young. As it stands, you probably still haven’t quite grasped the concept of love to begin with.”

“So why did you think I had something to do with Aphrodite?”

“Yes, yes,” Mikael nodded, “I’m glad you’re so perceptive. The thing is, you and I actually have a great deal in common. You see, we are both related to Greek Gods. You, of course, have a much stronger association, since you are a direct descendant of one of the twelve Olympians, but I too am a descendant of the gods.”

“What?” you gaped. “Really?”

“Yes, really. That was how I was able to find where you were in the first place. Once your Quirk had manifested, I felt a strong presence shake me. I was guided by what I can only describe as a vivid supernatural force, until I finally found where you were. This is because of our shared connection to the gods.”

You squeezed your pillow, bouncing up and down on the mattress. “That’s so cool,” you marveled. “Hey, that’s really cool, right? That we’re related to the gods? Hey—which god are you related to?”

“I am a descendant of Eros, who was in fact Aphrodite’s son.”

“So I’m your mom? Even though you’re older than me?”

Mikael chuckled. “No, we are only their descendants, but we share a strong connection as a result. The gods have many descendants, as a matter of fact, but often they have no powers to speak of and appear to be mere mortals. Your Quirk reflects your ancestry, but I don’t have any powers that relate to my god.”

“What’s your Quirk then, Mikael?”

“Me?” He smiled at you for a few moments, then gently patted your head. “I don’t have a Quirk. I never developed one. As for how exactly I know I’m related to the gods, it may be hard for you to understand, but it’s a deep, spiritual feeling. One day, I just knew.”

Quirkless…

You’d heard stories back in the orphanage, but you’d never actually met anyone without a Quirk. There were children younger than you who still didn’t have one, but as a rule, all Quirks developed by the age of four. You’d gotten yours then, the older children all had theirs, and so did the adults. You wondered what it would be like, to live your entire life without a power to call your own.

“Even though I don’t have a Quirk,” Mikael went on, “the reason I am so confident yours won’t affect me is because of our shared ancestry. I too am related to a god of love, which is why your powers won’t be able to affect me the way they would others.”

“Oh.” You breathed a small sigh of relief. “That’s good, then. To be honest, it’s really hard for me to control my powers. Ever since I got it, people follow me around and tell me they love me nonstop. I don’t know how to turn it off, and it sometimes feels like I’m just tricking people into doing things for me…”

He ran his fingers through your hair and shook his head. “That’s not the case at all. Your powers are just so strong. People are instinctively drawn to you, but with training, you can learn to regulate and control your Quirk. At first glance, it may seem like a good thing to have so many fawning over you, but unadulterated love can turn to obsession, and in some cases, it may harm you rather than help you.”

“I can learn to control it?”

“Yes, of course. I will help you get used to your powers.”

You felt your chest bubbling with warmth. If what Mikael was saying was the truth, and he really wasn’t affected by your powers, then he was helping you because he wanted to, not because he felt like he had to. There was someone who was willing to care for you, and not just because of your Quirk. It was the first time you’d felt such relief in months.

“Thank you, Mikael.” You hobbled across the bed on your knees, wrapping your little arms around his torso. “I’ll do my best to get better at using my Quirk. I’ll do my best, so promise you won’t leave me like my parents did, okay?”

You felt his chest rumble with gentle laughter. “Of course I won’t. You’re here to stay for good. We’ll take care of you, [Name].”

Character overview: 

Name: [Last Name] [Name]

Age: 15/16 years old

Likes: cute things, memes, fashion, sweets, hanging out with friends, flirting

Dislikes: Ares, responsibility, shallow people

Quirk: Aphrodite

The user’s Quirk charms those around them. Targets who have been “charmed” may find themselves under the user’s influence, and/or weakened to some degree. The amount of control the user has depends on the level of attraction the target experiences. Powers are most effective when physically touching the target. The user may use their powers to temporarily immobilize their target, have them experience psychological pain, or even manipulate them into performing certain actions.

Overuse of Quirk can result in sudden energy loss, headaches, and temporary numbness in limbs.

Stats:

Power: 2/5 D

Speed: 4/5 B

Intelligence: 4/5 B

Cooperation: 5/5 A

Technique: 6/5 S

Household/relationships: 

♡ Mikael: 

[Name]'s primary caretaker. He is both an artist and an art dealer. A descendant of the Greek God of love, Eros. Is whimsical and can be overly idealistic at times, but is a very kind and patient man. Cares for [Name] a great deal, and is addicted to chocolate.

♡ Freja: 

One of the attendants in Mikael's manor. After meeting Mikael during one of his visits to Denmark, she moved to Japan to start working for him. Is not descended from any of the gods. Considers [Name] to be like a child of her own. Dislikes having to clean up Mikael's art supplies.

♡ Rui: 

Another one of the attendants who begins working at Mikael's manor once [Name] starts attending U.A. Attends college part-time, and enjoys playing pranks on other members of the household. Is not descended from any of the gods. Likes scouring the net for memes with [Name] and having her model cute outfits. 

♡ Ares: 

???

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[p1nkshield]

welcome weary traveler you’ve made it to chapter eight! It’s been a long time since I’ve updated, sorry!

Jason was very okay with being a zombie. It was what he joked about when things got overwhelming. He now had a new specific descriptor and a support system he never knew existed. I was strange. The level of self reliance he was used to was now no longer needed. If he were to fall ill he wouldn’t be met with confusion at his vitals or being treated like a case unheard of prior. It was comforting to have someone say, “that’s totally normal, it happened to me”. This would lose a bit of its luster as Jason phased through the kitchen floor with a yelp for the fifth time in ten minutes.

Danny grabbed onto his arm and pulled to no avail.

“Try to fly up instead just accepting your fate.”

Jason was too busy clawing at the floor like a cat being dragged to a bath to heed his advice. This was also to no avail as his arms swished through the floor like it was mist and he fell completely.

Tim was having a very entertaining morning. Watching idly as his older brother’s legs dangled and flailed from the ceiling of the bat cave made his coffee much more enjoyable. He had made a bet with Cass on how many times Jason would fall through before he got used to his newfound abilities. Cass had more faith in him than he did saying that he would fall under 200 times.

FWUMP

By the way things were looking Tim would not have to fight the condiment king for a whole month!

Jason was getting tired feeling like every step was a gamble. Danny was little help. The most he did was graciously build a barrier so that he wouldn’t fall into the mantle of the earth. Witnessing the feat was bewildering. He was scampering about the bat cave picking things up, asking “do you use this?” And then promptly dropping or tearing apart the tech based on the answer. He haphazardly squeezed together a projector-like device and turned it on, producing a neon green grid.

“What is that?” Jason asked as he tested this mesh with his foot.

Danny jumped onto the grid, displaying its bounciness.

“Baby proofing!” Danny joked

“As you develop your powers you’re not going to be able to fully regulate your intangibility. So until you’re phase trained this will help you from sinking into the ground.”

Was Jason going to sink into the ground? Phase training? Jason was getting a bit worried… it was probably fine.

THWUMP

Just as soon as Jason got up the stairs and got his lunch together he fell again. Green was starting to tinge the edge of his vision.

“That’s 15 times today! Start prepping your anti ketchup wash kit!”

Tim was keeping count? They bet on how many times he would fall?! Jason was starting to seethe.

“Jason! Try to think solid thoughts if your feeling yourself slipping!” Danny said, sticking his head through the floor.

Not helpful. Jason did not respond. He was very tired of falling. The first time had been a shock to everyone but Danny. They had all been eating dinner together, a small miracle, and Jason just fell out of his chair. He made a sound comparable to a perfectly cut scream as he was in one room then clipped into the next.

Right now the only thing Jason could do was think of that and breathe in an effort to calm himself down.

Tim took a tentative step back. “You okay?”

Jason thought the answer was quite obvious and simply glared in Tim’s direction.

Danny flew down from the kitchen and procured a glass of ectoplasm from the tanks and placed it into Jason’s hands.

“Drink.”

Jason drank and was immediately was full of much less rage than before. Great. He needed baby proofing and now got hangry like a toddler. Just great. At least he could see the humor in Tim’s bet now.

“Your wager.”

Tim was still tentative about the situation. “…Yeah?”

Jason downed the rest of the ectoplasm

“I want in. I bet less than 50.”

@skulld3mort-1fan @addie-lover-of-stories @ivymala07 @nottmuchtopost @stargazer-luna a @icecweme @dontfightmecauseillcry @seraphinedemort @tinybrie @kyrianclawraith @spoopyspoony @joyfulcollectordreamland @luffyrose @nixthenerd @darkstarsapocalypse @lemccr @busterkeel @britcision @inthereellife @vythika96 @chrysanthemum9484 @blankliferain @sara0055 @pike-s @xye-chan @blackroselina @malice-of-the-sunrise @gin2212 @meira-3919 @undead-essence @onlyhereforthechaos @charcoalstainedbones @ectoradiation @persephoneblackrose @farmercale @claudiashq @boo-ghosties @56thingsinaname @insomniaxonline @thefanficcup @terzatheunderscorerima @wolfeyedwitch

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[sulphuricgrin]

Gonna talk about my year and how I think I'm in a more optimistic place compared to last December. Warning: mental health, mentions of self-harm but not elaborating how, mention of previous attempt but not mentioning how. ramblings of a person who wants this outta their head.

i'm bewildered by how I got to where I am now

Let me start off with the fact that September-December 2023 was a low point. Heavy anxiety, long manic episode, taking lots of overtime, being the best in my little department but my manager refusing to do a yearly review, and a relationship I didn't know how to end led to a severe anxiety attack.

I took a month off work to work with my psychiatrist on my medication. Within two hours of my first day back, my coworker triggered my C-PTSD. Unable to flee, can't fight, I do the only thing to control my emotions - self harm. Long story short, HR notices and sends me to the hospital. I'm sent back out of work and start a partial program.

I've done this before in 2011. I do my best at the program, stayed there for a month. We change up my medication. They help me find a therapist for when I finish the program. I had some hang ups with the program. Music therapy would make me want to harm myself. I told my case worker the truth and they told me I can leave those sessions when I want.

I hate positive affirmations. I won't use examples because they're valid to other people and I don't want to be negative to what might help others. To me they always felt hollow, insipid, childish. It never clicked, no matter at what age I tried it.

I've mentioned several times that I like philosophy. During the program, I brought with me Medications by Marcus Aurelius to read during lunch or the few minutes between sessions. Quotes on stoicism became my positive affirmations in sessions.

"The happiness of you life depends upon the quality of your thoughts."

"You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realise this, and you will find strength."

"Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth."

Anyways, I got better, or so I thought. The day I "graduated" as I drove home, my mom told me my dad finally died. That's a complicated situation, with complicated emotions. Anyways, I spiraled. Self-harm and isolation. By the end of the week, I was forced into inpatient.

Inpatient was immensely worthless, except for one bit. My whole ward was shut down because of fucking Covid. So you were stuck in your shared room with your roommate, no sessions, no walking around. Little stimulation. The longest 3 days of my life. I've done inpatient 2 times before, 2012 and 2017 (for suicide attempt then), so I know 72 hrs is the minimum and that as long as I'm not a risk I can leave. Thank fuck my mom was able to give me a philosophy book to read. And that I was able to get access to a pencil that I had to return at the end of the day, so I could draw (and not with crayons). I did start writing for Fate-Touched when I was in the ward.

Anyways, they helped figure out with blood tests that my Tegretol and Seroquel interact. Therefore my Seroquel has to be doubled. And they put me on Gabapentin for anxiety. I can safely say it's helping now a year later, besides upping the dosages about 3 times since. I occasionally see my therapist who's pagan. First therapist I've ever clicked with, one who believes my feelings are valid, one who doesn't think I'll change my mind about children in the future. I'd see her more often if I didn't have to pay out of pocket. But she's noticed my improvement.

a year later, I am single and happier

a year later, I work for myself. While I'm not crazy about that, it's proving to be healthier. (I didn't quit my job. they illegally fired me over my disability. Yes, I've suing)

a year later, I'm back to being creative. Similar to the levels back in 2013 and before. People are even buying my art?!

a year later, I have people I can call friends (I'm genuinely trying not to cry writing this- never mind, I'm crying)

a year later, I'm living more in the present.

it's not all perfect. I try not to think about the near distant future. I try not to think about the existential dread. But I'm trying. And it gets better.

“What we do now echoes in eternity.”

[iztarshi]

Fandom: TMNT multi-turtle crossover. rottmnt centric.

-

Dear Turtles,

Those of us designated outcasts of society though no fault of our own have long dreamed of a place where we can stand tall among our fellow turtles, a community where we would be understood. Now that need no longer be a dream.

In the year 2020 we, the turtles of dimension 872D1, have been able to create a stable portal connecting to that year in multiple universes. You, the turtles of 18R153, are the youngest of the universes we have so far been able to contact. While we were teenagers in the late 80s and early 90s, you are continuing our legacy as teenage mutant ninja turtles as we speak. We are excited to welcome you among us and hope we can provide you with support.

Within this letter you will find four portal keys, one for each of your team. At six o’clock tonight, press the button on your portal key to create a portal and be transported to a place where you will be among your own kind.

Signed, Donatello

P.S. The portal key will still work at any other time, it’s just if you come tonight there’s a welcome party. Please don’t feel rushed to decide. - Leonardo

“We should go,” says Leo, the instant Raph shows him the letter.

“Are you sure?” Raph asks. “They said the invitation’s still open later if we don’t want to come now. Maybe we should wait until we’re over… this whole situation.” The wave of his hand takes in both his own bandaged eye and Leo’s mummified shell.

Leo shakes his head. “The letter said they’re adult versions of us. Like Casey’s senseis. We’ve gotta make a good first impression.”

“Yeah,” Raph says. Because they need friends like that if anything else happens again. Because wouldn’t it be awful to disappoint versions of themselves that are so much more than they are. “Yeah. Raph gets it.”

All the same, it’s awful getting ready. Leo gets excited about picking out clothes, but struggles to get into them without hurting himself. No one mentions the real reason they’re going in full outfits is to hide the bandages on Leo and Donnie’s shells. Raph needs to hide the ones on his shoulder too, but they’re only a small patch and could probably come off. The bandages over his eye are harder to hide. In the end he takes them off and hopes his mask will hide that his eye is puffy and swollen. Mikey wears gloves and holds his hands behind his back so no one can see them shake.

“We all ready?” Raph asks, holding the portal key and watching his phone count down to six o’clock. Three voices answer in the affirmative. “Mad Dogs roll out.”

He presses the key and watches the portal grow in front of him, fading gently to reveal a window into a room with tables full of pizza and a banner in bubble writing saying, “WELCOME TURTLES!!!”

Looking back through it are pudgy middle-aged turtles slightly shorter than Leo with sweet, rounded faces. They’re not wearing clothes, besides their rather pastel ninja bands, but their Michelangelo has a party hat on.

Raphael steps through feeling bewildered, but much less nervous.

“Welcome to the Casa Tortuga,” the Michelangelo says. “I dig your funky looks, little dudes.”

“Little?” says Donnie, taking in this new Michelangelo from head to toe with an efficient flick of his eyes.

Raph shoots him a look. They gotta be polite.

Another portal opening takes the attention away from them. The turtles who step out of that one look far closer to what Raph was expecting. Sure, they’re still short, but they’re buff as hell and they’ve got a serious look like they’ve been through some shit.

“Great, you guys came,” the pastel Donatello says.

The buff Raphael folds his arms like he’s already regretting it, but the Michelangelo grins and holds his hand up for a high three. “I would not want to miss a party run by you guys. Who else is on the guest list?”

“Some other guys we had a crossover with,” Donatello answers. “And the turtles prime but we’re not expecting them to come. And we found these guys!”

He gestures proudly to the Mad Dogs, like they’re a new invention, and Leo responds by striking a pose. “Thank you, thank you, Leonardo, Leon, Nardo, Captain Blue, or Blue Jitsu at your service.”

“Really?” says the buff turtle in the blue mask, his mouth twitching suspiciously at the corner. “I’m Leo.”

The third portal opening once again takes everyone’s attention. The turtles who come out of this one look. Well. With feet that size they’d probably be hard to knock over in battle? Must make it harder to climb buildings without the grippy toes, though. They’re also dressed up, which makes Raph feel better about his group having clothes on. And what they’re dressed in…

“Wow, total Hot Topic vibes,” Leo says, having apparently forgotten about being polite.

“I wouldn’t talk if I was wearing as much fake brand name stuff as you,” the new Raph says.

Leo gives the Raph a look that says his weakness for people who won’t put up with his nonsense is kicking in and tries to drape himself across his shoulders. He gets shoved off, of course, and he almost hides the wince when the shove hits his shell. The Raph certainly hasn’t noticed.

“Looks like everybody’s here, amigos!” the Michelangelo with the party hat says loudly. “Time for food.”

Raph turns his attention to the three tables laden with pizza. They are labelled. “PIZZA”, “WEIRD PIZZA” and “REALLY WEIRD PIZZA”. One of the really weird pizzas appears to be levitating and another is scuttling around on little legs. This might still be less weird than the weird pizza labelled “fudge, marshmallow and anchovy”.

Raph watches his Donnie pick up the scuttling pizza and thoughtfully bite a leg off. Meanwhile the pudgy turtles and the little, freckled Mikey are digging into the weird pizzas and the buff ones are going for normal pizzas. Raph decides to play it safe, while also seeing if staying close to the cool, serious Raph will let him strike up a conversation, and goes for normal pizzas.

Everyone’s loosening up and chatting as the party gets into its stride, but Raph feels awkward. These three groups of turtles know each other, or at least two of them know the third. The Mad Dogs are the odd ones out, no matter how friendly the hosts of this shindig are. Plus, Raph is towering over everyone. There are chairs dotted around in a variety of sizes, including his size, but he still feels like he’s drawing everyone’s eyes. Normally he likes being the big guy, the one who can take the hits and protect but he’s the only Raph this size. And the smaller Raphs don’t have badly injured little brothers trying to hide it. He feels like a fraud, like the friendly punch in the arm and “how much can you bench, big guy?” from the buff Raph would be taken away if this Raph knew that none of his training or working out had let him save Leo from nearly dying.

The others look like they’re doing better. Mikey’s managed to engage the stompy Raphael and the host Leonardo in a conversation about drawing. The Donatellos have congregated into a tight and alarming group. Leo’s being the life of the party, chatting away to anyone who will listen.

Then, just as Leo and the host Raphael are getting a bit too determined to win a pun contest, the Raphael suddenly jumps forward and gently lifts Leo’s arm. There’s blood soaking through his hoodie and dripping softly to the tiled floor.

“Is there a doctor in the house?’ the Raphael asks.

“Uh,” says Leo, trying to pull away.

The pudgy Donatello appears at his Raphael’s elbow. “Should we boil some water?”

“I can’t believe you haven’t learned any more first-aid than that in the last thirty years,” the Raphael laments, shifting to hold Leo more supportively. They both turn to look at the buff Donatello who immediately comes over.

The Raph next to him takes that moment to tip Raph’s chin down and look very intensely into - no, at - his eyes. “Don, I think this one’s hurt too,” he yells.

“No, Raph’s fine.” Raph shoves his hand over his eye and the pressure stings, but he can’t bring himself to pull it away.

Across the room the freckled Mikey pulls up the back of Donnie’s hoodie and says, “Woah, this guy’s super bandaged.”

“Alright, turtles!” their host Leonardo says, in a voice which cuts through the babble. “Herd them into the living room and sit them down on the couch. We’ll fetch…”

“A first aid kit,” says the buff Donatello. “And actually you could boil some water.”

The Leonardo nods and says, in a voice full of confidence, “We’ll do that.”

Raph resists the herding uncertainly. It’s not like he needs checking, although Leo definitely does. Then the pudgy, middle-aged Raphael and Michelangelo catch each other’s eyes, take one of Raph’s hands each and pull like little tugboats with unexpected power. He finds himself stumbling into a room containing a very Raph sized three piece suite just as the buff Michelangelo comes in with Raph’s own Mikey held firmly under one arm.

Someone says, “You were expecting large turtles?”

The host Donatello answers, “We wanted to be sure we could be welcoming to anyone undergoing a super-mutation arc.”

“Huh,” says the buff Donatello. “I doubt I would have been a very good guest when that was happening.”

“We do have a cage as well, if you prefer,” the host Raphael says.

“Thank you, but that was over with a while ago. I’ll just see to the patient.”

Leo, who has been herded into the chair while the rest of them are on the giant sofa, is now squirming at the approach of a Donatello who looks much calmer than his own but even harder to get around.

“It’s fine,” Leo says rapidly. “It’s, you know, we’re pretty tough really. Even if we don’t look that way right now, ha. It’s just a minor injury and it doesn’t really need thiiiiis many turtles.”

The Donatello narrows his eyes while his corresponding Raph takes up a station in front of the door with his arms folded.

“Listen,” the Donatello says, drawing his bo. “We can do this the easy way, or we can test the thickness of that very thick skull.”

“Ah, jeez, why are Donnies like this?” Leo laments.

“Because we spend so much time worrying about turtles like you,” the Donatello says.

The stompy Raph pokes Leo’s shoulder gently. “Just let him get on with it, kid. And next time don’t try to hide injuries like that, I wouldn’t have shoved you if I’d known.”

“Yes,” says the stompy Donnie, currently engaged it trying to get Raph’s own Donnie to stop hissing at him and let him remove his hoodie. “It would very stupid if a turtle made a habit of hiding serious injuries. Wouldn’t it, Raphael?

Raph finds himself converged on by two Leonardos while the third, their host, returns with his Donatello, the first aid kit, and plenty of hot water. He then disappears again to make “medicinal tea” that their Splinter always makes for them when they get injured. Raph isn’t fighting it any longer, it’s actually kind of reassuring, especially seeing a brisk Donatello in his mid-thirties check over Leo. Technically they’ve been treated by Draxum who knows more about their biology than anyone else possibly could, but there’s still something nice about having other turtles do it. Even if some of those turtles are making bets about what caused this in the background. For some reason “window” is the favourite. “Shredder” is coming in second which makes a lot more sense.

The Donatello treating Leo pauses and says, “I don’t know what you’re made of that you survived this, because none of us could have, but you seem to be healing okay. You should stay off your feet, though.”

Leo stops his embarrassed squirming and says, “…Really?”

Raph loses the Hot Topic Leo who slides off the arm of the couch and goes over. “I can do healing hands if it’s that bad.” Then, without waiting, he holds his hands together and starts chanting, moving them as he does. When he touches Leo’s cracked shell there’s a visible difference, small pieces knitting themselves back into place and the bleeding stops.

Mikey sits up next to Raphael, leaning forward as much as the giant couch lets him. “Teach me to do that.”

The pudgy Michelangelo, who has been hovering over Mikey ever since his gloves were removed, reaches out and takes Mikey’s cracked hands between his. “It looks like those hands have done enough for now, little dude.”

“No,” Mikey says. “I’m a mystic warrior! I pulled Leo back from another dimension! There’s got to be more I can do when he’s still hurt or what good is any of it.”

“Yeah,” says the Michelangelo. “I get that. Trust me, I can feel how bright you are, I know you can do tubuloso amounts of stuff. But maybe not right now? We got a turtle who can do it already and that doesn’t mean you can’t, it just means you don’t gotta push yourself.”

Raph puts an arm around Mikey’s shaking shoulders. “Mikey, it’s okay, you can let them…” Mikey’s furious gaze and the other Michelangelo’s knowing one makes him rethink. “We… can let them take care of us.”

Raph lets gentle hands clean his eye, which is sore and dry from the exposure to air, and put a new compress and new bandages over it. Even Donnie has stopped hissing and is letting the stompy Donatello clean his shell.

Then that Donatello clears his throat and makes Donnie tense up by saying, “So, I’m not an expert on softshell biology. But it looks like it’s a very good thing you are a softshell because your shell has torn and bruised instead of shattering despite… uh… what looks a lot like tentacles shoving their way through it?”

“I hacked a spaceship with a biological interface,” Donnie says flatly. He’s pulled his phone out of his pocket and is staring at it instead of any of the turtles around him.

The Donatello’s bandana sticks straight up in the air in alarm. “These went into your brain? Now I’m even more surprised you’re not in a coma. Leo, can we get healing hands over here too?”

“It was an interface, it was designed to work that way,” Donnie says. “The technodrome didn’t do the damage connecting, it was being ripped out when the Krang found me.”

There is an echoing around the room of “the krang?” “the technodrome?” “what kind of krang did you have?” but Raph misses whatever comes next because the echoes keep going, round and round his head, and he feels strange. Familiar strange, like his head is full of hot fluff and the world is slightly to the right of where it should be. Mikey hugs his arm hard and another Mikey, the little freckled one, lands on his lap and reaches up to pat his snout. Raph hears this Mikey say something about “grounding” and “like my alligator friend” but he can’t focus on that now. Instead he wraps an arm around each Mikey and breathes.

He comes back to the host Donatello saying, “Our Krang did have a robot with feet the size of our chests once, but it wasn’t very stable once we took out the molecular amplification unit. Plus, he’s just one person, not a species, and a disembodied brain at that.”

“Wasn’t he a banished member of our Kraang?” asks the Hot Topic Leo.

The Donatello answers, “Only in crossovers.”

Raph’s own Donnie says, “So that’s how you met these guys? Maybe if we’d had another season.”

“Don’t let it bother you, we can make our own crossovers now,” answers the host Donatello. “There’s never enough time to exchange notes during the official ones.”

”What?” Raph asks, wondering if he’s fully back in reality or not.

Donnie buries his snout in his phone again. “Don’t worry about it.”

The smell of pizza makes Raph look around and he finds the unoccupied turtles pulling in small tables and piles of pizza. It makes him realise that if the party is moving in here his brothers — and especially him — are taking up all the seating. Plus, he should really be helping out. When he tries to get up though he finds the buff Raph pushing him back into place.

“You stay off yer feet for now,” he says.

Raph shakes his head. “Raph can help. Raph didn’t get hurt badly like Leo and Donnie.”

“Yer still hurt,” says the buff Raph.

“I should have protected them.”

“I get that. It sucks when you can’t protect your brothers. My Leo’s been in a coma and Donny’s been through stuff he still won’t talk about when I wasn’t there. But hey, sometimes keepin’ em alive is all you can do. They look like they’re gonna heal okay.”

Raph finds himself nudged into looking over at his brothers. Mikey is still next to him, arguing across Raph’s lap with the older Mikey still tucked against Raph’s other side. Donnie is showing off something on his phone to the other Donatellos and Raph assumes it’s tech until he hears the word “pizzasaurus”. Leo’s lost his social flair from earlier and his smile is considerably more shy than sparkling, but he is smiling again, hands waving as he explains something to the Hot Topic Leo and Raph.

“You think you guys will be coming here a lot?” Raph asks quietly.

“Of course,” both the buff Raph and the freckled Mikey chorus.

Nearby their pudgy host Leonardo looks incredibly proud.

[blackjackkent]

Jaheira! Jaheira, we did it, we beat Ketheric! Are you proud of us? I hope you're proud of us! <3

"Our enemies spread like rub-rot. Treat one patch, and two more bloom in its place."

"An Elder Brain, bound by lost Netherese magic, with servants of the Dead Three holding the chain. Reminds me of old times."

Well, that's not exactly pride, but at least I don't have to explain the situation to you.

Some of the available conversation options here are asking her about her history with the Dead Three, mind flayers, etc. But those are a little weird given Hector's proclivity for history; he definitely knows all about her adventures with Caden and that it involved a clash with Bhaal and his followers and other such terrible things.

He is, however, bemused by the note of humor in her tone as she speaks.

"You almost seem like you're enjoying yourself."

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you?"

Hector just kind of stares at her for a moment. And then thinks. The bewildering thing is that in this moment of relief, able to relax after all the horrifying experiences of the day, he does actually feel oddly happy, in a muted, exhausted sort of way. And he has started to realize that this experience has changed him fundamentally in a way that he may never come back from.

But enjoying himself?

"I've got a parasite in my brain," he says wryly. "Makes it hard to enjoy anything."

She looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, then nods. "You came here in search of a cure, but found a conspiracy instead. I can see how that would be disheartening." She reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder, gives it an encouraging shake. "But take courage. We have killed a man who could not die, and stripped the Absolute's army of its general. You have a Netherstone, and you're on the scent of two more."

She draws back, nods firmly, approvingly. "These Chosen have a reason to fear you. And I would like to be at your side when you confront them."

Again he stares at her - this time with more surprise than confusion. "You want to join me?" he asks. At his side he can sense Karlach starting to almost vibrate with held-in excitement, the heat around her starting to crest again. He swallows the urge to smile, keeps his expression as serious as possible.

"Of course," she says matter-of-factly. "Falling foul of Ketheric convinced me that my grand adventures were behind me - that even if I survived, I should hang up my blades. But you convinced me otherwise. We ventured into darkness together; now we've come out the other side, I'd say I'm feeling a little refreshed. When we reach Baldur's Gate, there will be even darker paths to tread."

She lifts one arm in a Harper salute, her pale eyes fixed on him. "I will follow you wherever they lead."

The only reason this whole conversation isn't the most incredible thing that is ever happened is because earlier today the daughter of a goddess offered him the same things. Jaheira is a hero of legend, and she's offering to fight at his side, to follow him?

What have I done, he thinks with faint bewilderment, to have earned so much trust? And what if I am not worthy of it, in the end?

But he tries not to let the uncertainty show on his face, just nods firmly in return. "I'll see you at camp," he answers.

She grins crookedly. "How does it compare to a shadow-cursed inn?" She chuckles; then the humor fades and she speaks more briskly, all business. "With the Absolute's army gone, the Risen Road should be clear. We can follow it all the way to Baldur's Gate. There's a Harper safehouse in Wyrm's Crossing - Danthelon's Dancing Axe. We'd do well to check in with them before entering the city proper. Beyond that, our course is yours to set. I can recall how to take orders, as well as give them."

----

"Holy shit, Soldier. Holy shit. Holy shit." Karlach starts grinning fit to burst as soon as Jaheira has walked away. "She's coming with us. She wants to follow you. What is happening?"

"One more strange thing in a terribly strange day," Hector murmurs, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he opens them and looks over at her, and smiles himself, seeing the excitement in her expression. "Well worth everything, to see you so happy right now, though."

"I can't fucking believe it," she says cheerfully, and throws an arm around his shoulders, hugging him against her side. "You take me to meet the best people."

[birdylion]

2, 4, 17 and 24 for the aro asks

Thanks for the asks, anon!

2. When did you first realise you were aro-spec?

Quite late because I didn't have the words for it for a long time, and getting there was complicated. I don't recall it with certainty, but I think I first thought about maybe being ace because clearly there was something unusual about my attraction. At some point I'd heard the word and its definition enough and that it just made sense for my life experience of, for example, mostly just ending up in friends with benefits situations and never wanting anything else out of it. So, mid-twenties, I guess?

edit: I just re-read a bunch of older stuff. I realised when I was very close friends with benefits with someone, with a commitment you could call queerplatonic, but definitely without romance or romantic feelings on either side. Other people kept telling me that I was in fact in a relationship and just didn't know it, and I was SO annoyed by that. That's when I started using the aro label.

4. What moments make you think, “Well, I’m definitely aro”

Well there's all the times when I'm bewildered by other people's amatonormative assumptions, about wanting to find a partner, about needing a partner, about what it means to be in a relationship, about what romantic partners can and can't do (like voice disagreement with their partner about how much they like the color of a wall).

There's Valentine's Day, which is just such a non-issue for me that I'm entirely bewildered how there can be such an industry around it. I used to be annoyed by it, but that was before I figured out I was aro. I was so frustrated that apparently it was so important and I didn't get it, but it made no sense, and that made me angry. Now I can just shrug and say it's not something in which I want to take part.

There's bound to be more, that's just what comes to mind.

17. How do you feel about sex/love songs?

First, what moves me most about music is the actual musical part, the melody and harmonies and rhythm etc. I only listen to the lyrics half the time. So I often don't notice unless I pay attention, but then I'm bored when every other song is about that. Human experiences are more than just romance. I'm sure "I want you but I can't have you" feels like something you have to cry out loud, but ... there's so much diversity in the human experience, aren't you bored to sing about romance all the time?

Sex/love songs that come to mind that deeply move me:

I'm you man, by Leonard Cohen (devotion)

Ready to call it love, by Mika (uncertainty about (queer) feelings and commitment)

Nothing else matters, by Metallica (deep trust between lovers)

Arguably sex/love songs:

You're my best friend, by Queen (look Deacon wrote it about his wife)

Songs about other topics, just for the fun of it:

Cats in the Cradle, by Harry Chapin (familial love and the passing of time)

Streets of London, by Ralph McTell (social misery)

Riez, by Stromae (starving artists)

The Islander, by Nightwish (being forgotten by the world, I guess)

For Good, from the musical Wicked (two people having changed each other for the better)

Gracias a la vida, by Mercedes Sosa (being grateful for your life)

Fade to Black, by Metallica (depression, suicidal ideation)

Eleanor Rigby, by the Beatles (lonely people)

Wanderlust, by Nightwish (wanderlust)

Fils de joie, by Stromae (how society treats sex workers)

I wish I knew how it would feel to be free, by Nina Simone (being able to be yourself)

I am what I am, by Gloria Gaynor (being yourself)

Friends will be friends, by Queen (friends being there for you and vice versa)

24. Best part of being aro?

Best part of identifying as aro is that I can do away with all the little excuses I found before for not dating or looking for relationships: I'm too busy with school/uni, I'm going abroad soon and it wouldn't be fair to start something now, etc. And internally, I feel just so much more chill about the whole thing now that I can just shed society's expectations and say 'no thank you' while still acknowledging that it is a thing that's important for others.

Best part of being aro is ... it seems other people are very stressed about romance, and I'm just not? Sure, I'm sometimes frustrated and feel alienated that others seem to live in such a different internal world than I do, but from what I see, I wouldn't want to think that much about dating and partnering up and being with someone just for the sake of being with someone. The best part of being aro is definitely that I had an easier time dissecting amatonormativity; it was easier for me to get there and I think that changes my life for the better, all in all. Alloromantic people can do that too, but I guess it's not as intuitive.

[confusedshades]

Ok this is adorable and I'm now wondering what happens if Danny wakes up next morning with no recollection of the conversation except a few flashes of standing in front of Red Hood on the rooftop.

Jason sees Danny groaning the next morning on his way back from the supermarket. So Jason hoping to kickstart something flirts with Danny. Danny has no recollection of anything beyond crying and a vague red helmeted vigilante just stares at Jason. Because he still thinks that Jason's dating Red Hood.

One extended awkward moment later Danny tries to sneak off and Jason pretends to get a call and not see him. Danny wants to bash his head into the nearest wall, not because of the pounding headache from the hangover, but because of the amazing fact that Jason, the sweetest kindest most amazing man flirted with him. Obviously he meant nothing by it, he has Red Hood as a partner, but oh Ancients Danny desperately wishes Jason meant it seriously.

A week more of similar instances later, Jason decides fuck it. He's done with tip toeing around the whole thing and Danny is obviously unsure. Or shy. So he walks over to Danny's place a few moments after he knows he gets back usually. When the door opens, he walks in after saying he wants to talk. Danny, bewildered, let's him in and waffles around as he watches Jason pace around his living room.

"The other day, when you were drunk, you um said something." Jason starts his planned speech, and watches Danny pale. "Um..." Danny mumbles unsure of how to get out of this situation.

Obviously some things were said, (none of which he remembers) and Red Hood went and told Jason. Oh god he's going to have to move because he's going to actually die of embarrassment. How a Halfa dies, no one knows but he'll be the one for the history books and all because he melted into embarrassed goo.

"I know you said it to Red Hood, except I was there." Danny blue screens. Oh great. Jazz is going to get stuck dealing with his useless stuff because he won't even be able to move out first before dying of embarrassment. Ellie is going to hunt him down and Clock Work will help her because this will just be amusing and he lives for that.

Jason, unaware of Danny's internal monologuing, is shoving his hands into his pockets so he doesn't wring them or pick at his clothes. He's got no problem facing off against rogues or mobs or traffickers any day of the week. But this? It had him sweating bullets and tripping over his words. But Jason want one to back down once committed, so he took a deep breath and spat out what was on his mind.

"I was there because I'm Red Hood Danny. And I've thought you're handsome and sweet and a catch for a while, but you never responded to anything, so I just let it be but then you kinda said what you said, and now I just wanted to ask you, if, I could, you know, if I could take you out on a date."

Danny stood there, processing everything. He opened his mouth to respond but no sound came out so he closed it again. He opened it again, but all that came out was,

"Oh."

Then he promptly turned intangible and sank through the floor hoping to sink into obscurity. Except, with the whole confession, he only got through till his hips. Now would be an excellent time to melt into embarrassed goo.

Alcohol

A drunk Danny proposes and Jason has a short circuit.

Note: I don't know English, I wanted to share my idea and used Google Translate. Note 2: Warning for terrible writing skills and character characterization, at least I think you get the idea, I think. T-T

Jason x Danny …

Love is complicated. Danny had inevitably fallen for his handsome, cool neighbor: Jason, the problem? His neighbor dates the equally handsome and cool Red Hood.

His heart broke instantly. So to get over his broken heart Danny decides to drink the wine that Princess Dora sent him.

He drank too much, and apparently ghostly alcohol can do what human alcohol can't: get him drunk.

That's how a drunk Danny somehow got to a rooftop and found Red Hood. His love rival. Worst of all, Danny can't even object to Jason's decision to date the anti-hero, because Red Hood is Red Hood and Danny is Danny.

Oh…

Danny became depressed and now he is crying in front of the guard.

The guard panics. He tries to calm Danny down by saying nice things, but Danny cries more. Jason officially hates himself. How did he make his pretty, tender neighbor cry?

And suddenly his drunk Danny screams: "it's all your fault!" That's when Red Hood freezes. Exactly what is his fault?

Danny continues: "You-You…he loves you! Silly, silly, why did he have to like you? I love him more." Oh, that's the problem. His Danny is in love with a bastard, and said bastard is apparently in love with Red Hood.

He absolutely doesn't share the same feeling, especially if Danny is crying for him. He briefly wonders if it would be right to hit the guy Danny likes.

"Jason loves you! You should say those words to him" Excuse me, what did you say? "Silly"

Oh, Jason Todd?

"Yes!" He seems to have spoken out loud, because his pretty neighbor responds with a broken voice.

Ha.

Jason has a short circuit. He can't process this; The reason why his neighbor didn't pay attention to his flirting was because he thought he already had a partner. That he (Jason) was dating him (Red Hood)

He should have stopped that rumor from the beginning, so this misunderstanding wouldn't have wreaked havoc on his love life. On the other hand, seeing his adorable neighbor looking like a drunk makes Jason melt.

"Do you think I'm dating…Jason?" His voice is serious, although it is probably not noticeable through the filter of the mask.

Danny nods. "Is a lie." He is amused when he sees the surprise in Danny's eyes, this drunk is adorable. "Just like you, I already have someone I like."

"So you're not dating Jason?" Oh boy. "Can I go out with him? Can I tell him that I like him?"

Jason laughs internally, and says, "You should do it." And he must return to his apartment soon, after all, he will soon receive an important declaration of love.

This is the best day of his life.

Unfortunately his statement won't come tonight, because Danny trips and falls to the ground. Apparently unconscious.

Jason sighs. He will have to wait until tomorrow, while he takes care of picking up his (now) cute boyfriend on his back. That's when he hears him murmur.

"Jason, marry me…"

!!!!!!

"Hahaha, ask me on a date first." He answers her, although he knows that his boyfriend is already in the world of dreams.

He absolutely won't let Danny forget this.

…

I repeat: I don't know English, I wanted to share my idea and used Google Translate.

[bite-the-bloody-hand]

Zell - fear, hunt, mask

Anon I am blowing you kisses in a platonically camp but approachable manner. These are SO good thank you.

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

I love this one; it's a complicated answer. Fear is so intimate with Zell and is such a part of his personhood that it's very fun to dissect. Starting on the surface, Zell is a very 'show fear but make it comedy' kind of guy. He distracts from the real, personal fears by making jokes about the greater external fears like 'big demon trying to kill me' or 'several gods are personally mad at me right now' and so on. He recognizes fear and doesn't judge anyone for feeling it for any reason, in fact someone openly showing fear to him often makes him feel more compassionate, which makes demons fleeing from his murder aura in terror a… difficulty. He says 'I'm scared all the time' and passes it off as a joke but it's true.

He's terrified; it's the terror of having significant, inexplicable gaps in memory that only give blood and pain as feedback if he tries to explore them too much. Furthermore, he's afraid of what the personal details he's missing could be. Afraid of how that formless terror in his inaccessible memories might be who he actually is. Deep down, he's mostly afraid that whatever he tries to be or whatever he strives for, he is literally doomed to failure. He doesn't remember clearly who he was before waking up in Kenabras - just bits and pieces of a short but happy time in Hongli before getting snatched up by his father's people* and taken to Ustalav for his 'own good.' He's afraid of doing everything he's told and doing it well and still being punished for it, so… As you can imagine, how things unfold in game canon are pretty upsetting. It's a significant factor in his rebellious actions against authority, a mindset that if he refuses to play by their rules, he can't be punished for winning. These are the fears he hides under campy bravado.

He is also frankly afraid of disappointing Anevia, but has yet to really unpack what that means for him. It's mostly about the fear of his own power and what he is meant to or could become within it. (This is also about the fear of being transmasculine and being told that it means choosing to embody the 'inherent evil' of manhood, and how FUCKIN HARD that is to unpack when the world is falling down around you. Not that I know anything about this.) This is the fear he rarely speaks about because that also means opening up the Gender discussion and frankly the only people he wants to talk to about that are Anevia, Arueshalae, Daeran, and Regill**.

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

Strictly in the game canon, the biggest thing he has to constantly be on the watch for are Vampire Hunters looking to make a name for their selves, followed closely by Pharasmans of a certain inclination and finally by chasers, but that's a different kind of dangerous.

Constant Vigilance is something Zell is very familiar with because of this; he rarely has his guard down (and statswise his perception is off the fuckin' charts) but often goofs or gaffes to sell the myth that he's an oblivious goofball. However, it's almost impossible to actually catch him off guard in a martial sense. (Socialemotional situations are a whole different ballgame, he is constantly bewildered.)

In my own worldstate (my spin on the CRPG and TTRPG storylines mashed together like my favorite playdoh colors) - aside from the previously mentioned he is hounded by Socothbenoth. They have an extremely contentious relationship after Zell decided to reject the 'gift' of Socothbenoth's patronage (in a far less than gracious manner, might I add) and instead work with an entirely different Trickster patron and Azata allies.

Later, he catches the ire of the Shrouded One after stealing a Nidalian Grimoir of very particular secrets. That's more than enough detail about that little side quest… for now ;)

Finally, the Royal Council in Nerosyan have no kind feelings towards him as soon as he makes it clear he won't dance to the beat of their drum. Beyond this, his own secret research to assist Liotr uncovers a few things the Council's Church members would very much like to keep buried. Their assassins are the ones he's the most worried about, because they're likely the only ones who could potentially afford Greybor.

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

(Presented with the context that in my headcanon/worldstate Mendevians are FAR less cool with the undead than they have to be for the CRPG to be playable)

Both. Mechanically, for a time, Zell wore the Mask of the Rapid Bites (then I switched to cleaving everything teehee.) He did so during the initial push from Kenabras to Drezen, and for a while after, at Galfrey's insistence. In my imagination it's less of an enhancing piece of enchanted armor and more a big metal indicator that This Guy Is Dangerous Please Keep Your Distance. It's presented as being there to reassure crusaders who are less than thrilled with a Dhampir Commander, but it's really just a power move to show everyone paying attention who's still in charge. He is ALWAYS making faces at people under the mask.

Daeran absolutely despises it and insists on leaving what he calls "The Muzzle" in a drawer or in Zell's room when they're alone together - even before they became close. Initially Zell argues with him about it -he gets why people are afraid of him after all - but Daeran quickly argues him down.

His figurative mask covers the screaming anxiety and five-degree interdimensional sorcery chess game he's running to try and win this fucking war. On the surface, he effects a cool implacability that gives way to goofy huckserism that keeps people upbeat and comfortable. Something of a 'wise guy, above it all unless it's for the bit' kind of attitude. It is genuine in its way; making people laugh is drugs for him. But unlike Lann he doesn't deliberately let it slip for sympathy*** - he'd much rather people think he's simply adaptable and relatable.

Few people get to see past that mask; he doesn't like exposing his emotional vulnerabilities. He can't remember clear examples, but the sense of knowing that sharing those vulnerabilities with someone will immediately lead to exploitation is strong in him. It's part of why he chances it with Daeran: at least he already knows Daeran's tactics for striking at weak points, so he can frontload plenty of counter jokes as defense.

*I've often joked about Hellsing Alucard being the King of Vampires in this setting but it's only funny until it isn't.

**I think Regill would bring some excellent points about presentation and selfhood to the table have you seen him. Have you seen this elder hehimsbian in action. I ask you.

***I mean this with the utmost affection but like for real though.

[naffeclipse]

Heya Naff, slightly late but Happy New Year!! 🎆 Hope you’re doing well and I wish you much inspiration and many good things this coming year! <33

I had a little query pop to mind recently if that's okay:  what if reader in the Deep Dreams universe had megalophobia and/or perhaps even thalassophobia? 

I know this might make less sense for fisher Y/N as we know them, so it could hypothetically be some other person, a friend or a future Y/N who makes friends with juvenile Sun and Moon and then only later discovers they've grown to be big sea beasties - maybe seeing them in their dreams is fine but for real it's a different matter, at least until they get used to them :)

How might the boys react?

Having a slight bit of megalophobia myself, the best way I can describe my experience is a gentle anxiety with the need to seek shelter and cower there, but people's experiences can vary (and possibly change depending on the conditions). Also that kinda makes it 10x funnier that I have an affinity for giant creatures xD

Hi, Piixel! Happy New Year to you, too, babe! ♥ Thank you so much, ahhh, you're much too kind! :D I hope you have a beautiful year and an abundance of lovely things happen to you!

Oh ho! Fear of big things and of large bodies of water? I'm sure that totally wouldn't be a source of great fear and conflict with a poor little reader soulbond to a couple of mers hehe (The Sea Beast is an excellent movie btw!! ♥)

Y/N with megalophobia and thalassophobia wouldn't be caught dead on the ocean. You have dreams about two massive mers, and those creatures are always sweet and gentle and attentive, but you're still convinced it's some weird nightmare (even though no real spooky events unfold in said dreams). The mers coax and plead with you to go out to sea so you can all meet, but that's a solid no from you.

Then through a very terrible chance of fate, you're on a boat for whatever reason but very much against your desires, before you get swept away by a rouge wave and left behind. You're alone, struggling to swim in a massive ocean when—oh goodie, that looks like a giant mer floating right below you. What else could go wrong today?

Needless to say, after seeing Moon, then Sun, and realizing that these massive mers you've had dreams about are here in the flesh, you pass out from sheer fright. It's a lot for you to wrap your brain around, but when you come to, you're on Sun's back as he floats gently along the surface, keeping you dry as you begin losing your mind out of the horror of it all while Moon watches you from close by. You can't jump into the great wide ocean to escape the mer carrying you but you can't stay on the thing's scaly back either, so you may have a panic attack. Sun stops and turns his head back to give you his full attention while Moon tries to take you in his hands but that does not help your situation. They can feel your panic and horror, but you can feel confusion and distress at not being able to help, and in fact, them being the cause of your fear.

Their attempts to calm you down are met with resistance as you want to be anywhere but here in the ocean with two giant mers.

Sun and Moon are bewildered and upset, to say the least. You did often seem nervous in your little dream rendezvous but they thought they did a lovely job of reassuring you it was alright and that they would never hurt you and there's nothing to be scared of. Turns out, not quite. So, they take you safely back to the island shore where you more or less escape from the massive monsters and flee inland. But, there's not a whole lot of places to go on the little island and you've got to sleep eventually, so Sun and Moon decide to spend more personal time with you and show you that really, they're the two baby mers you happened to scoop up one summer day when you were just a tot and didn't realize how scary some things could be.

They'll be patient. You'll see that there is no place safer than with them in the water. They'll help you face your fears and then reunite with you.

If you ever leave your house again, that is.

[thatpunnyperson]

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this and I'm gonna put my befuddlement under a cut lol

This is like telling someone they're not allowed to empathize or sympathize with you???

But also, like, I've read this several times now because I am so baffled by the "capable" qualifier. Like, what kind of person goes "I experience this, and you could NEVER experience this, and if you think you could, then you don't truly grasp the gravity of what this is like to experience"???? It's a firm denial and almost gatekeeping of the rich variety of human experience??? Also, sorry for this next example but I am at a loss for most (but not all) words

Like, the only thing I can think of that someone else would never be capable of experiencing as I experience it is the feeling of pooping out of my own butt. This person is basically doing the equivalent of saying "no, you must not understand me explaining what it feels like to poop because if you did understand, you would never claim to be capable of understanding what it's like for me to poop."

Which is silly sounding because everyone poops, and you could totally imagine what it would be like to poop out of Your Own butt, but yeah, you don't live in that person's body and don't know specifically what it feels like for them to poop out of Their Own butt.

But the assumption in all conversations with other humans is that you are understanding the words they're saying, you can picture in your mind what events they're describing, and you can think about how you would feel if you were in that situation. The assumption is that, while your experiences would be unique to you because of the infinite uniqueness of everyone's journey through life, you can put yourself in their shoes hypothetically to sympathize or empathize with their plight

And this person goes for the throat and says, "i am the specialist person in the world, I don't care that you can use your mind to consider what it would be like to experience what I've experienced, because Only I Can Experince this, and if you truly understood what I was describing, then you would realize that the picture you have made of this in your mind is so wrong as to be a completely different thing. You cannot even comprehend what my thing is, and you are a fool for trying."

Which is so mean for no reason? It's like saying "no, you're not allowed to empathize with me, and if you try to, then you're going to get everything so wrong that this whole conversation will be ruined." Just take the damn support, person!

Sorry for how long this got, I am just so bewildered that another human would even SAY this to someone. It violates so many little social and cultural rules (more like "best practices" tbh) and it truly IS a doozy of a thing holy shit

"No, see, you must be misunderstanding what I'm saying because if you understand you wouldn't suggest you're capable of experiencing things the way I do" is sure always a doozy of a thing to hear another person say to you

[ropebunnykant]

Akk and His Microexpressions (Part I)

Okay, so ever since I watched EP8, I have not been able to get the kiss scene out of my head. For a multitude of reasons this is the case, but I cannot get over Akk as a whole during the scene, specifically the battle he is having with himself and how clear it is in every expression throughout the scene. Putting this under a cut because I have a LOT of pictures and a lot to say (hence the reason this is actually only part one JFDHKJF)

When the scene starts and Ayan first enters Akk's room, we get this shot of Akk. There's nothing particularly special about this shot. He's a little surprised Ayan chased him, sure, but he's keeping himself fairly neutral. His walls are still up.

This is the first crack that we get to see. This is right after Aye asks if two male friends can hang out alone. You can see Akk falter because yeah, Aye has a point. But they're not friends, and he knows that.

Then we get this. He mends the crack quickly, telling Aye he doesn't know but that he's not okay with it. It's him trying to brush the situation off, but really it tells more about what's going on in his head than he wants it to. He's not okay with it... because Aye is more to him.

Then we get this lovely little bewildered expression when Aye asks to borrow his underwear. Not much to say about it, he's noticeably thrown off and rightfully so, which allows Aye to catch him off guard a few moments later.

Which is this moment here! Akk is very noticeably caught off guard by the hug... but he's not upset by it. Actually, if you pay attention during this moment, you can see he actually has a very small smile on his lips. The smallest upturn of the corners of his lips. He lets the hug linger for a second and then pushes Aye away, trying to build his walls again.

This is right after Aye tells him to look him in the eyes. The funny thing is that immediately after, he does... but it becomes too much for him and he looks away. Tells him he won't do it. You can tell it's meant to come off stronger than he meant it, but with the way he says it and his face here, you can tell it's not because he's pushing Aye away, but because he's scared.

Then Aye grabs his face, and he's startled and still so, so afraid. He's scared to face this, his feelings for Aye and what they mean, but Aye isn't letting him run this time. And that's terrifying for him. But as he's looking at Aye, in a blink-and-you-miss-it change, his eyebrows raise slightly and his lips pout just enough to change his expression completely. He's softening. His walls are weakening as he looks at Aye.

Aye tells Akk to tell him how he feels and Akk's chin/bottom lip shift as if he's about to cry. Which, you could certainly argue he is. He's still so terrified of saying what he feels for Aye out loud.

But then Aye grabs Akk's hands and lifts them to hold his own face, and THIS is Akk's face immediately after. The relief is so clear, the small smile on his lips really says it all. Like I said after the fake kiss, even in his fantasies, Akk isn't the one initiating anything. He needs Aye to be the one to do it because his own fears and worries won't let him. And the moment Aye DOES initiate, he's flooded with relief that he can do this. That he can just hold Aye's face and have his own face be held in return.

Aye tells Akk that he's gonna tell Akk how he feels about him and that after, he expects Akk to tell him how he feels about Aye, and this is how Akk reacts. There's so many emotions happening in this one picture, the hesitation and the anticipation, and the underlying fear that still lingers. But, there's also some amount of guilt there. An "Aye. I can't," dancing in his eyes that he doesn't get out yet.

Aye tells him how he feels, and Akk listens with rapt attention. This right here is the moment Aye tells Akk he wants to kiss him. The small smile that forms, it's clear he wants that too. He's relieved to hear Aye say it, he wants Aye to kiss him.

Slowly, Aye starts to lean in and Akk closes his eyes. He waits. He lets Aye be the one to make the move.

But then Aye stops, telling Akk that if he's not okay, that if he wants him to stop, just tell him. He will. And Akk opens his eyes and smiles.

Akk closes his eyes again, and he waits again. He doesn't stop Aye, but he lets him be the one to finish the action. Again, he needs that. He needs Aye to be the one to do it. Because he can't do it himself.

I have much more to say, but since Tumblr has a picture limit, I can't fit it all into one part, so I will kindly direct you to part II <3

[wheelsup]

kissing lessons

summary: one of your classic movie nights with spencer turns into a learning opportunity

A/N: this is really fluffy, but the whole story centers around kissing. use your own judgement! i’d say it’s at worst 16+

category: spencer reid x gn!reader, fluff (with a bit of spice)  best friends to lovers (sorta)

warnings: just kissing, a brief implication at the end

word count: 3k

Occasionally, the team will spend an extra night in their hotel before heading home from a case. Be it due to poor weather conditions, or the fact that your case wrapped in the dead of night, the reasons for flying don’t ever matter. Because the majority of the times when you have to stay that extra night, you and Spencer have sleepovers.

The routine is pretty much the same. You’ll stock up on gas station snacks – sour peach rings for Spencer, salted microwave popcorn for you – and reconvene in one of your hotel rooms. Preferably, whichever of you got the better deal that week – a bigger tv, a room further away from the ice machine. And you’d rent the cheapest movie available on-demand, the options spanning from low-budget sci-fi to poorly written rom-coms. That night, the viewing fell under the latter category.

Spencer perched at the foot of your bed with both feet tucked under his legs, criss-cross style, while you laid against the headboard to watch. Every now and then, you tossed out your commentary and he’d ignore it. He always says you’re too critical of movies and you’re of the belief that he’s too forgiving.

“I don’t think they should end up together,” you mumbled, words slurring around your mouthful of popcorn. You pulled a face right as the movie approached the romantic climax, after spending the past ninety minutes actively rooting against the couple. Spencer ignored you, pretending to be engrossed in the movie to spite your disparagement of it. “They both suck.”

You groaned, slumped further against the pillows, and shoved your sock-clad toes under Spencer’s left thigh in a call for attention. He jumped at the intrusion, but ultimately, your efforts were futile.

And then the big kiss commenced, and your booing finally piqued his interest. “Gross! I feel bad for people who kiss like that.”

A small bell went off in his head and he took a curious glance at you over his shoulder.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He stopped chewing and the piece of candy in his mouth pushed out his cheek, giving him an adorably innocent look. His brows scrunched in the middle and his nose had a tiny crinkle in it, utterly confused.

You scoffed and matched his expression. “Are you serious?” You jerked your head in the direction of the television and Spencer whipped his head back, squinting. He couldn’t figure out what you were pointing out, what it was that was so obviously wrong to you. “Spencer, he’s swallowing her chin!”

Oh. He hadn’t noticed.

Feeling dumb, he muttered, “I thought that’s how you’re supposed to kiss…” It wasn’t the deepest confession to admit to you that he lacked some knowledge when it came to kissing, but he still refused to look at you as he said it.

“Spencer, please tell me you haven’t been kissing people like that.” You narrowed your eyes at the back of his head, sitting up straighter in bed. He shrugged and lowered his head, focusing on his snack as his fingers dug into the packet of gummy rings in his lap.

He popped another piece into his mouth, pretending to be occupied with eating so as to avoid your prying. “I dunno.”

It didn’t occur to you until that moment that Spencer might have learned everything he knows about kissing – among other things – solely through watching movies. How else could he look at that and think it’s normal? And you’re left wondering if he’s ever even practiced it with another living human. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, but unfortunately, that only heightened your interest. You had to know.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” You kept your voice low, your tone implying that you were ready to exchange this secret with him. You wouldn’t judge him if he admitted he hadn’t.

He scoffed loudly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you’re positive he rolled his eyes too. “Yeah, of course.” Then quietly, he added on, “But it was only like… for four seconds.”

You nodded thoughtfully, considering how this new piece of information adjusted your existing view of Spencer. For some reason, you couldn’t tell if you actually expected him to be experienced or not.

He didn’t exactly scream that he’d… gotten around, for lack of better words, but you’re still surprised to learn that he’s barely done it at all. You supposed he was objectively cute, that maybe you could see it if he weren’t your best friend. And yeah, he’s a little awkward, but he’s smart and kind, so he has three great things going for him, and you’re surprised more people haven’t swooped him up yet.

Your lips curled down in thought, brows raised in curiosity. “And was it good?” It was a genuine enough question, because you’ve never really thought about Spencer Reid and kissing in the same sentence before. As it turned out, there was a lot of missing information relating to those two things.

“I don’t know! I didn’t get, like, a feedback form,” he grunted, angling his shoulder even further away from you. If you could’ve seen him, you’d notice his face boiling and turning red with heat. All this inquiring made him think harder about his … talents … than he’s ever had to before, and he’s not a fan.

You were prepared to do some more digging when the slump in his back made you feel a tinge of guilt. It was your fault he looked so defeated. You pressed too hard, disregarding his boundaries just because you wanted to know more. And now, he was wondering if there was something wrong with him, because you wouldn’t leave it alone.

He barely noticed as you swung your feet from under his thigh and rocked onto your knees, leaning forward to nudge his shoulder with your palm. It hauled his attention out of his thoughts and back into the room. You wanted to apologize, but instead you settled with “I’m sure you’re fine, Spence.”

He nodded unconvincingly. By the glow of the screen, you could see he was still gnawing on the inside of his cheek, focusing his eyes as he played with a loose hangnail on one of his fingers. It made you feel even worse. “Are you actually worried about it?” you asked, laden with concern.

“What if I am bad at it?” He whispered, like saying it too loud would make it true. “And that’s why it’s only happened once?”

A large exhale puffed out of your nose as you weighed your options.

You could go back to your original plan and apologize for setting him down this path of doubt. But that wouldn’t do anything to stop him from worrying, anyway. You could tell him there’s no correlation between the way he kisses and how frequently it’s happened; that you’re sure the reason isn’t because he’s bad. But you don’t know that for sure.

So, fuck it, you thought, grabbing a fistful of his pajama shirt and tugging him closer to you roughly, pressing your lips onto his.

This way, you’d at least have an informed opinion to be able to tell him if he was good or bad.

His lips were softer than you expected – not that you’d thought about them often, they’re just impossibly softer than they look – and invitingly warm. But they were completely stiff.

You could tell he was trying to kiss you back by the way his mouth ferociously moved over yours. He was trying to be a passionate, engaged partner, but he forgot about the aspect of tenderness.

His lips felt like two solid objects just sliding around on your face. They didn’t move in any sort of accordance with yours. There was no push and pull, your lips didn’t mesh perfectly together to form a solitary unit as they moved in unison.

It felt more like his lips were your opponent, putting up an attack and defense play against the actions of your own.

You pulled away, resisting a giggle at his bewildered face. “You’re not so terrible,” you swipe the corner of your mouth, smudged with Spencer’s flavored chapstick, “But it could use some work.”

He was at a loss for words, mouth gaping open as his eyes darted around the room and all over you. Maybe he’d find an explanation for what just happened carved into the walls somewhere or written across your forehead.

What happened was that you kissed him. And he was a little bit bad. Simple as that.

“I-I wasn’t ready!” he stammered, chucking up his hands defensively. He’d process the fact that he’d just made out with his best friend at a later time, right now the bigger concern was the slight cringed look on your face. He sulked and folded his arms.“What was so bad about it?”

“Well,” you scratched the back of your ear, trying to gauge if he’d react well to getting some advice, “my first tip would be to relax your lips.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“And don’t think too hard. You should react to what’s happening in the moment, not worrying about what your next move is gonna be.” You could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to envision what that would play out like in a real situation. “You wanna try again?” you offered, figuring he’d learn much faster if he was more hands-on about it.

He nodded, and you leaned in close, waiting for him to go for it. His heart quickened under the pressure of performance, eyes screwing shut as he closed the gap. His mouth smashed into yours as he dove in hard. It was toeing on the side of too harsh, but you let that one slide in hopes it was just a byproduct of his nerves.

You had to tap his knee to remind him to relax, and he loosened some of the tension he had in his lips. He slotted his between yours, allowing them to be pliable to your movements and remembering to react, not plan.

He moved his mouth leisurely against yours, trying to match your pressure and pacing. They actually started moving in time with yours at some point. The kiss took on a shape of its own as he started getting out of his head, letting himself enjoy the kiss for what it was in that exact moment.

It was already better than before. Leaps and bounds better. But then he tried to deepen it, building on its intensity but adding more… something into it. You couldn’t even tell what it was he was trying to do.

“Okay, second tip…” you inhaled sharply, pushing him off of you with a palm against his chest. Whatever it was, it needed to stop. “You kinda do this thing like… where you’re blowing air into my mouth?” You scrunched your nose, punctuating your dislike. “That feels weird. Don’t do that. If anything, do the opposite.”

“I’m supposed to suck the air out of your mouth?” His face contorted, voice already slightly exasperated. He barely understood what the air thing was that you claimed he did. He didn’t realize in the process of trying to add pressure to the kiss, he was just forcibly blowing against your mouth.

“Not literally, no.” You laughed a little, rubbing your palm in a comforting pattern on his chest.”But you can use your lips to suck on mine, or my tongue… just nothing involving the exchange of breath. We’re not in CPR training.”

He eased up a little with your joke, adjusting to your advice he gave it another try. After a few moments, he latched onto your bottom lip with his own, sucking it softly into his mouth. “Yeah, like that,” you mumbled against him, voice pitching high in encouragement. He sucked on it with a little more greed, holding it for a second, then eased up, varying the pressure of his movements just like you did before.

You made a mental note to praise him for that at a later time, deciding to instead part your lips to see if he’d venture into further experimentation.

He caught on quickly. He parted them further, prodding his tongue against them as you opened to allow him entry. Just as you started to really enjoy it, he ran his tongue over the inside of your mouth, moving it fast and roughly like he was a washing machine.

“Stop,” you grimaced, tearing away quickly. You had to swipe your hand over your mouth to get rid of the excess saliva that really shouldn’t have been an issue in the first place, given how brief the frenching was. “Your tongue is way too aggressive.”

Overwhelmed, he tilted his head to the ceiling and let out a frustrated grunt, slapping his hands down to the top of his thighs.

There were too many factors to worry about. He had no idea how you looked at him with a straight face and told him not to think too much when there were a million things he needed to remember all at once; he needed to vary his moves to keep it interesting, but make sure he’s not ruining the flow by changing things up too much, and to be gentle but not timid.

All of this was second nature to you, but it was brand new to Spencer. Could you really blame him for not getting the hang of it right away? You decided to stop your list of critiques short for this round to spare him. He’d get there eventually, but not if he felt discouraged too soon.

“I don’t see why people like it in the first place,” he huffed, his head returning to it’s normal posture. In Spencer’s eyes, there truly wasn’t any appeal to kissing with tongue; it looked sloppy and unnecessary, and as you’d just confirmed, it actually was.

You thought about his statement for a second. There’s a certain allure to it, and you didn’t know how to describe it to him. So instead you cupped his cheeks in both your palms and slid your mouth over his again. As his jaw slacked its tension, you slowly pushed your tongue past his lips and gently pressed it against his own before swirling them together.

You sighed softly into his mouth, running your fingers through his hair and tugging carefully at the ends. He made a small noise against you, something like a whimper, and you swallowed the vibrations of it. As you retreated, you captured his bottom lip between your teeth and gave it a light, teasing tug. You soothed it again with your lips before releasing it, a proud giggle forming in your chest as Spencer chased after your lips as you broke apart.

“That’s why.” You smirked at the dazed look on his face. His eyelids remained closed longer than necessary, still feeling the ghost of your mouth on his and a tingle where your fingers were in his hair.

“Oh.” His voice came out meek as he slowly came back to reality, brows wrinkling up his forehead as he opened his eyes.

He put both his palms down on the mattress, one laying flat on either side of you, and dove forward to resume the kiss right where you left it. A surprised squeak left you as his mouth collided with yours with an insatiable hunger. You brought one hand back to his hair, and he was a goner.

He unfolded his legs from under himself and shuffled onto his knees, following his hands until he practically crawled into your lap. Each of his legs hooked onto either side of your thighs as he hovered over your lap, leaning his body entirely into yours.

The physics of it didn’t hold up; he’s taller than you are, and his chest was too heavy for you to carry. The balance was off center and it sent you tumbling back onto the mattress, bringing him down with you until his chest laid on yours.

It was the perfect force – the weight of him on top of you. He tasted like peach candy and sour sugar, and you found yourself craving more of it.

You shuffled higher up the mattress, giving him space to stretch out his body as he followed yours. One of his hands found your waist, gripping tightly, while he placed the other on the mattress beside your head, using it to steady himself. Sliding your legs out from under him, you wrapped them on the outside of his hips, using them to pull him closer down to you.

It only broke off in moments when both of you absolutely needed to get air, gasping as you pulled apart for brief reprieve before colliding again. He followed every word of your advice, getting better with each passing second until he exceeded expectations by leaps and bounds.

Your fingers weaved through his hair, passionately tugging the wavy strands to angle him against you and igniting his nerves under your touch. A soft moan leaves him and you’re encouraged to tighten your grip on them. His hips bucked reactively at the sensation, and he quickly pulled back, a slight embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. He got too carried away.

You took in his flushed face and swollen, kiss-bruised lips. They’d turned a shade of red brighter than you’ve ever seen them, and it was all you could do not to dive for them again as his tongue sweeped over them, soothing the burning heat you’d left on them.

Before he could apologize for his eagerness, you nudged your nose against his, your smile skimming against his lips. “So what else don’t you know how to do?”

☆

☆

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[elmendea]

the Episode of Unnumbered Tears

 semi-personal Ep 7 thoughts.

I spent the majority of this episode bursting into tears, which is...not like me at all. I think the only TV show that ever made me cry while watching it was Eleven’s seasons of Doctor Who (I literally wept into a pillow for three hours the Christmas that Eleven regenerated and ended up getting a migraine from it. Second most embarrassing nerd-fact about me. Most embarrassing nerd fact is that apparently I yelled “I WANNA BE IN LOTHLORIEN!” in my sleep once.) ROP has managed to make me either tear up or outright sob at least once every episode, so far.

Key moments, that may or may not have involved tears, you’ll never hear it from me (images and spoilers beneath the jump):

- the devastation of the Southlands was chillingly familiar on two fronts: firstly, it looked like what happens to bush and country towns during my country’s bushfire season, which hit a note of terror so deep in me it’s practically innate. But as Galadriel wandered around the desolation, I was reminded very sharply of the scene from “Threads” where (TW for the following link: animal death and general absolute nightmare fuel, I am so serious about this) Ruth wanders through what was Sheffield. Either way, it horrified me on every level.

- Isildur’s horrified bewildered numbness at Ontamo’s death; the fact that he could barely walk away...

- the Stranger trying so desperately to help with a power he can’t control, and causing peril again, completely by accident

- Elrond pleading with King Durin...just pleading. and being desperate enough to, well, de-elf himself. god I got some “that boy probably is thinking about Elros rn” vibes from that scene.

- the tears in Dísa’s eyes when begging Prince Durin to do something. she’s just. she is everything. I love her.

- the questioning look and then the broken realisation on Elrond’s face, that barely-there trembling

- the “namárië” exchange and both Elrond and Durin’s utter devastation; Elrond’s forced smile feels like a knife to the heart

- the look on Galadriel’s face as she realised while talking to Theo that she could see too much of her own situation in his, her insistence that this was her fault and drowning in that guilt

- Elendil’s soft, adamant “Where is my son?”

- the horrifying, stomach-dropping moment of realisation that Míriel had been struck blind, and her begging Elendil to keep walking

- Nori handing the Stranger an apple and just...the both of them, not being able to say anything, the emotion trapped in their eyes. The way Nori set her jaw and lifted her chin against her own sorrow as she watched him walk away. And the numbness that set into her later on. That was painful to watch.

- (also, the little flower that sprouted up from the tree...I thought it was an elanor blossom, at first! Wrong number of petals, though.)

- Theo’s questioning Galadriel, especially asking what the hell the divine plan is in losing his home -- that hit me where it hurt; I absolutely lost it at that point. I’ll elaborate on why someday. not today.

- Durin attempting to tell Elrond his secret name, and Elrond insisting he save it “for the far side”. I wanted to scream at that point. Elerondonya, dearest heart, wisest one, you of all people should KNOW that reaching the far side may never be an option! don’t be foolish!

- the look on Elrond’s face when he was cast out of Khazad-Dum. fuck, if he ever cries onscreen, that’s it, I will be obliterated. you’ll have to pick pieces of my heart up for days.

I can’t believe that I was so worried for bloody months about Elrond’s portrayal. Rob Aramayo is killing it. what a waste of life that was. I love him.

- Durin’s conversation with his father was horrific for me to watch. the fact that sometimes, just sometimes...your parents can be wrong...is such a heavy burden. especially if it seems they’ll never realise it. especially if you still love them despite that. that whole damn scene was wonderfully awful.

- the way the Dweller moves is sinister. She hasn’t even uttered a word and she’s dripping with malice. She terrifies me.

- Elendil pleading with Beric, the pain in his voice. the absolute flatness in Valandil’s response and the resignation in his eyes when Elendil curses picking Galadriel up. that boy gets it, he gets the guilt and the pain and the rage -- he’s the perfect lieutenant, really.

- the medical tent scene ALSO gave me the screaming horrors “Threads” vibes...this time, the (TW: same deal: absolute nightmare fuel) hospital scene. damn, I’d love to pick Charlotte Brändström‘s brain about her film influences; it would be so fascinating.

- Theo hugging Bronwyn...then hugging Arondir. and being the one to initiate the hug. and the look on Arondir’s face as he hugged him back. I am a sucker for chosen families. I am a sucker for chosen families that are absolutely bound by love.

- the naked, raw pain on Galadriel’s face upon seeing Míriel, eyes bound, still upright and proud.

- Míriel touching Galadriel’s face and NOT breaking, drawing strength from her and vice versa.

- Elendil turning away and breaking down just ripped my heart in two. we all know Isildur isn’t dead, but I hurt so much for him anyway.

- Poppy stepping up without hesitation when Nori makes to leave. without a moment’s hesitation. friendship goals, right there. Plus Marigold becoming a real mama bear, and Malva being hilariously blunt and not half as much of a cow as we thought she was. I can’t help it, I do love the Harfoots.

- yes, I know the leaks say Halbrand is Sauron, but...I just can’t see it. it’s too odiously obvious if it’s true. (and, y’know. leakers CAN tell lies.)

- okay, but can we talk about the big helping of character development we got from Dísa the Glorious this episode? she has no qualms about disagreeing with the king, whatsoever. we can also see her...I want to say greed, but I don’t think that’s the right word -- more the hunger she has for her husband to rule, and I think it’s out of love for him, and for the hope she has to move her people forwards. We’ve seen the steel in her since we first met her, now we are shown the fire.

- I literally yelped out “ohhhh SHIT!” when the Balrog flamed up. Durin’s bane is in the house. well. in the mansions of the dwarves. :(

- screw Adar and all his murderous little children. screw Mordor. we hates it, precious. but...just...who is he, really?