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vettelsvee · 2 days ago

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THE CALL OF LOVE | Sebastian Vettel

Primary School Teacher!Sebastian Vettel x Primary School Teacher!Reader ↳ Teacher AU ⋆ Part of CLASSROOM GOSSIPS

SUMMARY: Seb is the cool, annoying, extroverted teacher, while you are the shy, introverted and perfectionist one. Seb phones you all the time because he wants to get closer with you somehow but, also, he knows that you suffer from pretty bad anxiety and wants to respect your boundaries. However, when you have to go to Seb's class and ask him for help after your classroom becomes pure chaos, he finds the perfect opportunity to become closer with you... only to find out that, definitely, you want to get closer with him as well even your anxiety says otherwise ↳ BASED ON THIS POST I MADE TODAY!

WORD COUNT: 4798

WARNINGS: Mentions of anxiety, curse words. Lots of fluff (I loved this Seb btw).

TAGLIST: @koalapastries @blushmimi @herdetectivetheorist @awnmaneez

VEE'S NOTES: Third Teacher!Seb fic in a row since you asked! Hope you liked it as much as I loved writing it! Thank you for all the love you're giving to this, really, I'm so grateful <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

Although it wasn’t enough for many, you were more than happy being a teacher at one of the most well-known schools in Heppenheim, a small town in Germany.

Now that you had achieved your dream, all you wanted was things to flow perfectly. The main problem? Your anxiety and constant need for perfection, which were the most notable things about you. On top of that, there was the strict routine that was almost impossible to deviate from. However, the real problem lay in everything related to socializing... not with your students or their parents, but with the rest of the teachers.

Sebastian Vettel, the teacher of the other 2nd grade class, had also started working there that same year. Although you initially thought your relationship would be a calm one, the reality was far from that. Seb was the complete opposite of you: a walking chaos, with more than enough confidence and a charm that made him some kind of superhero to his students.

You tried your best to keep a professional relationship with him, but it was impossible. When you wanted to do a project on biodiversity with perfectly structured activities aligned with the curriculum, Seb preferred to take them outside to let them see it for themselves. If you thought it would be a great idea for them to write a small essay about Christmas, Seb preferred to show them a movie because, in his words, “they would have time to write when they’re older.”

And if that wasn’t enough, Sebastian had the annoying habit of calling your classroom phone several times a day with ridiculous questions:

“Miss Y/L/N speaking,” you answered as calmly as you could, while still supervising your students coloring.

“Y/N!” Sebastian shouted from the other end of the line. “Hey, quick question... Do our students need permission from their parents to go out?”

“To go out? Do you mean… recess?” you frowned.

“Of course!”

“No, Sebastian, the kids don’t need permission to go out during break. It's mandatory,” you added with a hint of sarcasm.

“Great, thanks! By the way, did you know the hold music is super cute? I thought you'd want to know since it's as cute as you and…”

You hung up before he could continue.

The next day, the same thing: Sebastian called just to ask whether necessary needed one "c" or two. The day after, it was to ask whether the coffee in the teacher's lounge was free.

It was never anything serious. There was never an emergency or anything like that. It was simply Sebastian Vettel asking you the most stupid things, things he already knew perfectly well. Despite that, you forced yourself to answer the phone, trying to calm your anxiety while giving him a quick, convincing response to get him off the line, before hanging up.

You knew you could ignore him, but deep down, this strange routine had become your favorite part of the day.

And, unbeknownst to you, for Sebastian, it had too.

Seb knew exactly how you felt about him; about any interaction with your colleagues, in fact. He was fully aware that you were a little scared of speaking in public. He could tell by moments like when you nervously played with a pink pen with butterflies every time you had to speak during staff meetings, or when during the Christmas play, just before going on stage with him and your students, you excused yourself by saying you were about to vomit... something that wasn’t entirely an excuse.

To him, you were the brightest person he had ever met. The way you taught, how you cared for your students, how he noticed you watching him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention... Seb knew that being this persistent could have the opposite effect on you, but as much as he wanted to take a step forward and maybe become a friend, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or pressure you into anything you didn’t want.

So, Sebastian decided to stop calling you.

You were puzzled when the phone didn’t ring. At first, you considered it a good thing, but as the hours went by, you realized something was missing.

The day felt endless, something that rarely happened to you. The same went for your mood, which had plummeted. And as if that weren’t enough, the art class turned into an absolute disaster, and you didn’t know how to manage it, no matter how hard you tried to calm your anxiety and think of alternatives to wrap it up as soon as possible.

Your students only needed a few minutes working on their own, making animals out of paper-mâché, while you corrected math tests, to turn the class into a total mess. There were strips of paper everywhere. The younger kids had glue all over their hands, leaving trails everywhere. One of the blue paint cans had even fallen to the floor, spreading quickly.

To make matters worse, when you tried calling Sebastian to see if he could bring you a mop, the phone decided to stop working.

You sighed and looked at the door separating your classroom from his, realizing that you had no choice but to admit to yourself that, as hard as it was to ask, you needed help.

Without saying anything to your students, you took a deep breath and shyly cracked open the door.

Sebastian was sitting at his desk, gesturing dramatically with his hands while his students stared at him as he seemed to be telling them a story.

"So, there I was, in front of a goat, after losing my parents. And do you know what happened next?" he said, walking dramatically and opening his eyes wide.

“What happened, Mr. Vettel?!” the kids shouted.

“The goat ate the sandwich my mom had made me for the trip.”

The class burst into laughter.

You couldn’t help it and laughed too, stopping when the embarrassment of having to interrupt the class just to ask for help washed over you once again. You couldn’t just walk in there like it was nothing, and—

“Oh my goodness! Look, kids, we have a surprise guest!”

You paled. The 30 second graders all turned towards you at once, their faces lighting up as if they’d seen an alien.

Then, they started chanting your name and running toward you to hug you, forcing you to step inside. Sebastian hopped down from his desk and approached you, arms crossed and wearing a smile that, if you were honest with yourself, you were dying to see.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Miss Y/L/N?”

You clenched your fists, knowing there was no way around it.

“Well… I need your help, Mr. Vettel,” you admitted in a low voice.

Sebastian blinked. Although it took him completely by surprise, he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he turned to his students.

“Alright, kiddos. I need you to be really good and stay quiet for a moment while I help our favorite teacher, okay? I’m right here, so if I hear any shouting, I’ll take away your snacks and Friday’s movie tradition.”

A collective gasp spread through the class, but Sebastian didn’t have to say anything else. Immediately, all the kids went back to their seats and pulled out books to read.

To your surprise, they didn’t make another sound.

“Come on, Miss Y/L/N, lead the way.”

You followed his lead, and then it was you who invited Seb to come in. Once he stepped inside, the German had no words. Instead, his eyes started to scan the room.

“Wow…”

“Yeah, I know…” you sighed.

Sebastian slowly turned to face you, trying not to laugh. Of all the chaos, what surprised him most was that one of the kids, named Martin, had his shirt stuck to the chair, covered in glue, and three desks were completely covered in the same blue paint that was on the floor. To top it off, the stain you had seen moments ago had spread not only on the floor but also on the clothes and faces of many of your students.

That’s when you realized the worst.

A group of girls was standing, whispering to each other, around the hamster cage in the class... which was empty.

“Y/N…” Seb lowered his voice. “Tell me the hamster’s in the cage, but I don’t see it…”

“It’s somewhere in the classroom. The problem is, I don’t know where, and there’s only half an hour left before the day ends…” You admitted, feeling quite embarrassed.

“Are you telling me there’s a dwarf hamster loose around here?”

“Are you going to help me or what?” you snapped, frustrated, glaring at him. “Look, Sebastian… We don’t have much time before we have to leave, and if I don’t get the kids out at the exact time, just like they were brought in, you know the parents are going to go crazy…”

“Relax, Y/N. I got it.”

You didn’t have much idea what could be going through Sebastian’s head, let alone how he’d manage to fix this, but you tried to relax and give him a chance for everything to return to normal little by little.

To your surprise, that’s exactly what happened.

Not only did he divide the children into small groups to do simple tasks, like going to the bathroom to clean up, looking for the class hamster (which they found almost immediately, curled up beside a cabinet), or collecting the materials they’d used and putting them away, but he also took both classes to the school exit so you wouldn’t have to face desperate parents asking why their kids looked like they’d just been on a jungle expedition.

The bell marking the end of school had rung half an hour ago, and you were fully aware that most teachers had probably packed up and gone home by now. Sebastian hadn’t even appeared to tell you that his students had returned safely to their parents, and, for a reason you knew all too well, that disappointed you.

You sighed, trying to let go of those thoughts and illusions that shouldn’t matter so much. Instead, you focused on the pile of papers on your desk, the art supplies that still hadn’t been put away, and the paint that, no matter how hard you tried to clean it off the floor, seemed impossible to remove. You decided to calm down and start with something simple, like putting away the materials and picking up tiny pieces of paper from the floor.

“Do you know school’s over for today, right?”

You turned to the door. Sebastian was leaning against it, arms crossed and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He threw his backpack on the floor and walked over to sit next to you, helping you pick up the papers without any explanation.

“No… I didn’t hear you come in…” you confessed in surprise. And I wasn’t expecting you, you thought.

“That’s because I’m as sneaky as a ninja. The kids tell me that all the time,” he smiled, glancing at you sideways.

Seb continued his task, silent, scanning the classroom. It was no longer the disaster it had been just an hour ago. Now, the desks were perfectly grouped in fives, the class materials seemed to finally be in place, and, to your surprise, the stains had disappeared from everywhere.

“Y/N, you should go home,” Sebastian told you, standing up and helping you to do the same.

“I just need to finish cleaning up a little more…”

“Or you could not do that,” he interrupted.

You let out a small laugh for the first time that day, carefree. You were nervous and exhausted, and Seb knew that perfectly well.

“I just want to make sure everything’s perfect for tomorrow,” you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“We managed to not kill a hamster with twenty-something kids running around and stopped the paint from getting on the walls, and you’re telling me you want to make sure everything’s perfect for tomorrow?”

“Well… yes,” you answered, looking down and biting your lip.

“That’s pretty adorable, honestly,” Sebastian said. Realizing what he’d just said, and that it might make you uncomfortable, he corrected himself. “I mean, as in your passion for teaching and everything…”

Stop fooling yourself and be honest with her, Sebastian.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s that, but…” you tried to articulate, your cheeks completely red.

“Well, the thing is: what else can I help you with?” Sebastian asked, unable to stop smiling. The fact that you were embarrassed by something so simple seemed so cute to him that he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, what can I help you with, Y/N?” he repeated slowly.

“Well… the truth is, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” Sebastian interrupted. “But I want to help you.”

You stared at him, unable to respond. You were used to helping people, not being helped yourself, and that left you speechless.

“What’s left to do?” Vettel insisted with care, moving a little closer to you while still keeping his distance.

“If you want, you can put the exams on the desk into the folders beside them,” you finally said, giving up.

“On it, Miss Y/L/N.”

“But really, Sebastian, you don’t have to—”

“If you tell me again you don’t need help, I’ll have to punish you with no recess.”

You burst out laughing, and to Sebastian, it sounded like pure medicine. For the first time that day, you didn’t feel like a total failure.

You worked in complete silence, letting time pass as you finished organizing everything. When you were finally done, you slumped into the chair and started checking your emails, wondering if any parent had decided to make your day even worse by sending a complaint after the day you’d had. To your surprise, there was nothing. What did surprise you, though, was that Seb came in with two cups of hot chocolate and a bag of sweets that, even more surprisingly, were your favorites.

“Here you go,” he said, offering you one of the cups while placing the bag on the table. “You were so focused that I didn’t want to bother you by saying I was leaving. And, well… I also wanted to brighten your day a little.”

You thanked him with a smile and didn’t hesitate to try the chocolate, which tasted like a real victory after such a bittersweet day.

Then, you closed your computer, put it in your bag, and, to your surprise and his, turned your chair to face him.

“What’s going on?” you said, noticing that Seb was looking at you… strangely.

“Nothing. It’s just… you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, not knowing what else to say. Instead, he shook his head and set his mind on doing what he had promised himself when he started working there: to try to become friends with you.

“Tell me about Miss Y/L/N’s teaching philosophy,” he finally said.

“Excuse me?” you hesitated.

“Come on, let’s go. I know you have one. You take this job too seriously not to have some kind of ritual or something to make everything go perfectly…”

“Except for today,” you replied.

Seb didn’t say anything because he knew how much you’d keep beating yourself up. Instead, he took a chocolate from the bag he had brought, unwrapped it, and placed it beside you. You finally accepted it without complaint, but with a smile in return.

“Well… I guess I want them to feel safe,” you started to say. “I want them to know that no matter what happens, it’s okay to make mistakes or not be perfect sometimes… I want them to know that I’m here for whatever they need, and that they can be great people in the future.”

“That’s amazing, Y/N,” Seb nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off you.

“It’s not a big deal…”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “You care a lot, don’t you?”

“More than you can imagine…” you swallowed, feeling a little vulnerable.

“I can see that perfectly, yes.”

“Really?”

“Seb nodded, playing with his mug.”

“You’re always the first one to arrive, and I’d swear the last one to leave. You do the most original activities and, at the same time, try not to die in the process, even though today was the exact opposite,” you both laughed. “You want to be perfect for them and try to give your best.”

“Is that bad?” you asked cautiously, tensing up a little.

“Not at all,” Seb answered immediately. “But sometimes I think you should stop being so hard on yourself and just go with the flow. You know... let things just happen by themselves.”

You were about to answer, but he continued:

“You’re a great teacher, Y/N. You don’t need to prove it to anyone but yourself, okay?”

Something in your chest tightened. You weren’t used to hearing things like that, especially not from your colleagues.

Or maybe you never gave yourself the chance for someone to recognize your well-done work, thinking it had never been, and would never be, enough.

You kept talking to Sebastian about a bit of everything, feeling right at home. The hours passed, and between questions about how you both ended up being teachers, what motivated you to dedicate your life to it, and how you both ended up in Heppenheim, it was already 7 PM.

You glanced at the clock and immediately stood up, quickly starting to gather your things, which made Seb alarmed.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, worried.

“I should go…” you said, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. “I need to catch the bus before it gets too late. It’s the last one of the day and…”

“Wait,” he interrupted you. “You take the bus home?”

“Uh... yeah?”

“This late?”

“I’ve been doing it since I moved here, so it’s nothing new.”

“And no one’s offered to take you home? Not even to share fuel expenses and stuff?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it is,” he replied. “From now on, I’ll take you home.”

Your eyes widened, surprised.

“Sebastian, you really don’t have to…”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” he cut you off, taking your backpack, offering his hand, and leading you out of the classroom, making sure to turn off the lights before you left.

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

“Do you think you’re a bother just because I want to take you home and make sure you arrive safe?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway and still looking at you. “I’d be a terrible friend if I let you go alone on the bus, especially this late with all the drunk creeps around.”

You froze. Friend.

“Come on, let’s go,” Seb spoke again. This time, noticing you were shivering, he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from your nervousness, so he decided to put his jacket over your shoulders. “The day you let me help you a little more, we’ll be the best team the world’s ever seen.”

You didn’t say anything else until you reached Sebastian's car. Not even when you sat inside after Seb opened the door for you and turned the heat on full blast.

“Well…” Seb broke the silence as he placed his hands on the steering wheel. “Where to, Y/L/N?”

“You want me to guide you all the way?”

“Do you expect me to guess the way?” Vettel joked. “Y/N, I’ve got balls, but none of them are crystal, so…”

Embarrassed, and especially starting to overthink whether Seb would start judging you not only for your answer but for the entire day you spent together, you simply gave him the directions.

Seb, knowing you might be feeling down and, unlike the whole afternoon when you talked about everything, seeing you retreat into yourself again, started asking you a bit of everything. Why did you decide to move to Heppenheim, such a small town? What was your favorite place? Did you like your neighborhood?

You weren’t used to that flood of questions, and especially not to people showing interest in you. Since you were very young, you always felt left out, like you didn’t belong to any group...

But with Seb, it was different. It was like he actually cared about you, and you couldn’t help but feel incredibly good about it.

“I like the new neighborhood. Quite cozy and nice...”

Seb parked the car in a small free spot in front of the apartment block where you lived. Then, he turned toward you with a smile, placing his arm behind your seat.

“It’s very quiet, which is great when I need to grade or when I just want to read and relax.”

“Oh, are you one of those?” Seb teased.

“One of what?”

“One of those teachers who reads all the time.”

“Seb, we’re teachers,” you were surprised to call him by his nickname so naturally, but you didn’t regret it. “Of course, I read all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but what I mean is, do you read for fun?” he corrected himself. “Do you read those dirty books or the inspirational ones that tell you how to be the perfect teacher?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you hit him on the arm.

“I read for fun.”

“That confirms it, you do read those dirty books where they’re constantly... you know… having sex in the dirtiest ways…”

“They’re called romance novels, Seb,” you corrected him, ignoring his comment. “The last thing I read was a romantic novel, okay? With no sex in it, by the way.”

“I knew you were a hopeless romantic…”

“I don’t know why I even told you anything…” you whispered, hiding your face in your hands.

Seb wanted to reply with something more, to joke around with you, but he knew that for today, it had been enough. What mattered was that you had felt comfortable and, most of all, opened up a little more with him that day.

Silence fell between you both again, but neither of you dared to say anything else. Not even you, who had yawned a couple of times and were dying to get home and get into bed without even having dinner, made the effort to get out of the car.

You didn’t know why you were so hesitant to leave. It was easy: thank Seb, say goodnight, get out of the car, and walk into the building without waiting to see if he drove off. Instead, you decided to stay there, by his side, your hands resting on your legs, feeling safer and, above all, happier than you had in a long time.

Seb didn’t say anything either. Instead, he focused on the streetlights, growing brighter with each passing moment, while his fingers drummed on the leather steering wheel.

Finally, you were the one who decided to take the step, to both your surprise:

“Well... I felt really comfortable today,” you admitted, with a calm voice.

Seb turned toward you suddenly, surprised.

You swallowed nervously, trying not to let the anxiety consume you and, above all, trying to stop the embarrassment from taking over.

"Well, I was thinking that... we could do this once in a while..."

Sebastian's lips curled into a smirk.

"What, reorganize a class and try not to die in the process? And not killing a hamster?"

"No, I meant...," you hesitated, then looked at him shyly. "I meant… spending time together. Outside of school."

That caught Sebastian off guard, but he couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face. He hadn’t expected you to say that, especially not after the chaotic day you'd both had.

"Wait..." he murmured, searching for the right words. "Are you telling me that... you want to spend time together, and not during class hours?"

You felt like you were going to die from embarrassment. Nervous and a little regretful, you weren’t going to back down though. You held your backpack tight, like some kind of protection, while fidgeting nervously in your seat.

"Well... I felt really comfortable today with you, and I thought maybe we could do it again. You know… grab a coffee, go for a walk..."

Sebastian didn't say anything. He just stared at you, unable to recognize the person in front of him, yet delighted that maybe, with a little bit of help from him, you had stepped out of your comfort zone, even if you didn’t seem entirely comfortable.

"Forget what I just said..." you mumbled.

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze, unable to look at him in the face. Sebastian, however, couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

"Not a chance. I like your idea. Actually, I’m more than happy with it."

His voice was calmer now, which gave you the courage to look at him. His blue eyes, which normally made you nervous and stole your words, now made you feel the same, but for an entirely different reason. You felt pressure in your chest, but this time it was nothing like the anxiety or fear of being judged and rejected.

"Hey," Sebastian spoke again, gently taking your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. "Since, from what I’ve just heard, you don't mind spending time with me..."

"Seb, please, don’t ruin this moment..."

You narrowed your eyes, instinctively leaning toward his lips, and Sebastian didn’t hesitate to close the distance, pressing his lips to yours. At first, it was soft, like you both were making sure that was really happening not just in your minds. When Sebastian felt you sigh against his lips, something in him clicked. His hand, still resting on your chin, slid to your cheek, caressing it tenderly, while his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

You let yourself go, feeling butterflies in your stomach for the first time in a long time, not because you wanted to disappear, but because you felt more alive than ever.

When you finally pulled apart, Sebastian rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

"Tell me this isn’t a mistake, Seb..." you whispered, still confused about what just happened.

"If it is, I hope you, Miss Perfection, don’t mind."

You laughed nervously, filled with emotions and confusion, but mostly happiness.

"So... what now?" you asked, breathless.

"I love the idea of kissing you in my car like a couple of teenagers, but I think it’s getting too late and we have to get up early tomorrow. So, I have an idea."

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop smiling.

"I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

"What?"

"Tomorrow's Thursday, Y/N. We have to go to class," Sebastian explained, as if you didn’t already know what he meant. "If I pick you up, you won’t have to wake up extra early to catch the bus."

Your heart skipped a beat. Yes, it was a simple offer, nothing extraordinary, but to you, it felt like more... like Sebastian wanted something more with you.

Like you mattered to Sebastian Vettel.

Seb saw the hesitation, the doubt in your eyes. He leaned in gently, and after placing a short but tender kiss on your lips, he spoke again.

"I know I don’t have to do this, but I want to," he assured you.

You swallowed hard.

Sebastian was serious. It wasn’t some bad joke like many other guys had made in the past. He really meant it.

"Okay," was all you could say.

Sebastian’s smile lit up his face.

"Great, princess. I’ll see you at seven-thirty here tomorrow. And I know it’s not necessary, but I have to remind you: please, don’t you dare being late."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you opened the car door and stepped out, a smile forming on your lips like never before.

Then, you hesitated at the door, but you were ready to, for once in your life, stop trying to be so perfect.

"Goodnight, Seb," you said softly. "And... Thank you. For everything."

"Sleep well, best teacher in the whole world."

You walked toward your building, and when you were inside, you turned around to see if Sebastian had left. To your surprise, he was still there, making sure you had entered safely.

You both waved to each other, and as you climbed the stairs to the fifth floor, you realized that, for the first time, the anxiety about tomorrow wasn’t paralyzing you.

Instead, it was tomorrow, alongside Sebastian Vettel, what were making you feel alive.

149 notes · View notes

softtdaisy · 3 days ago

Note

injury prompt 16 and 22 for reid perhaps... :D Love your writing btw <3

make my heart beat again / spencer reid

summary. spencer was sad. spencer was miserable. he thought he could handle it until he couldn't anymore. he thought he could deal with it alone until he couldn't.

words count. 2 249

prompt. “Why won’t you let me help you?” “…because I don’t deserve it.” / “You deserve to be helped, I—who told you this?” from here

what to expect. very angsty, spencer is so sad i want to hug him, i chose the mentally injured more than physically, mention of murder very quickly

a/n. ok first thank you so much for requesting it sweetie!! and i'm sorry, i wish i posted it sooner but i started it again to make it shorter and...it's not shorter, but it's here and i hope you will love it (and now i can work on your other request) 🫶

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

You weren’t quite sure how everything started again with Spencer.

One day he was a memory of the past, one of your biggest regrets. The next time he was back in your place, like he always belonged there.

You went on a couple of dates a few years ago, and it would be a lie to say your heart didn’t fall for that boy. Sweet, gentle, the nicest man you’ve ever met. And so beautiful with his always so messy hair, his gorgeous brown eyes that always seemed to look at you like you were one of the seven wonders of the world, and that perfectly shaped mouth that you loved to kiss.

You were sure things could have worked out with Spencer if a) his work didn’t take him that much time—and more. b) You didn’t have other issues in your life you had to deal with before thinking about love.

So you ended your relationship, or whatever it was at that time, before it could be more serious. And you spent way too many nights missing Spencer Reid.

The way he would start every date with a fact that could either last a minute or ten and how you could notice the change in his eyes when he noticed you were truly interested in what he was saying. How he was blushing at any physical contact you were initiating, even in bed after he made love to you. Or even how you never said you loved each other, yet the way his lips would stay longer on your shoulder when you were falling asleep was speaking for your feelings.

You never thought Spencer would miss you just as much.

But he spent months contemplating the idea of seeing you again and trying to convince you this could be good. That he could be good for you. But months turned into a year. And when he celebrated his whole single year on the other side of the country, Spencer read into it that maybe he had glorified love. In all its aspects.

And this conclusion haunted him for years.

To the point Spencer stopped meeting new people and was barely trying to stay in touch with those in his life. He wasn’t seeing his mom much; his colleagues noticed the distance he was building between them, and Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he saw his “friends.”

Because at some point, the fear of losing people turned into a feeling of not being good enough to people’s lives and made him a loner. A sad loner.

That was something you immediately noticed the first time you saw Spencer in years.

Your life has barely changed from your last date. Still the same job, but at a higher place. Still the same apartment, but with a different setting. Still the same person, but more mature.

It wasn’t hard for Spencer to find you. And if he spent a whole year contemplating going back to your place before putting that thought away, the day he truly needed it, it took him a minute to decide it was time.

You didn’t question his presence here when you opened the door. Maybe he should have. But when Spencer grabbed your face after you simply said his name with confusion, nothing seemed to matter.

Not his hair longer than before, not him looking more shaped yet more fragile, not the circle under his eyes being way darker than the last time you saw him. Not that he was eagerly kissing you, something he never did.

You remember Spencer being gentle, taking his time to appreciate every second with you.

No, he was hungry, like each second could be the last with you. For him.

“What are you doing here, Spence?” you finally asked him. You were both lying on the rug in your living room. His eyes were locked on the roof, like he was disconnecting from reality. His arm around your back, holding you against him, was brushing your skin slowly, but he seemed to do that mindlessly.

And Spencer didn’t turn his head to look at you when you, you couldn’t stop looking at him. “I needed that.” Not you. You put away the pain hearing that and tried to see the good in this, that you were the one he went to.

But still, something was different with Spencer.

It would take you a few nights to realize he wasn’t blushing anymore when you touched him. Or that he didn’t seem to have a lot to talk about.

Actually, Spencer wasn’t talking much anymore.

For weeks, Spencer would come to your place at night. Either after a day at the office or when he came back from a case. Usually, when it was the latter, he would even stay the following day to fully decompress from what happened.

You tried to question him once or twice. But Spencer always had the same answer: going down on you to keep you quiet with your question.

It was a win-win situation.

He was giving you pleasure and making you think about something else.

He was concentrating on something else, and your moans were filling his head with other thoughts.

Until one night, the sex wasn’t enough to put his problem away.

You didn’t expect Spencer to come. Two days ago, he told you he had to leave for a case and it would probably last a week. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it gave you the time to think about him and where this was going.

Yet, your bell rang at 10 p.m. Let’s say that dating an FBI agent taught you to not open your door to anybody. You almost played dead and ignored it. But your gut told you to look at who it might be.

You didn’t expect to see Spencer through your spyhole.

You certainly didn’t expect to see him cry on the other side of your door.

“Spencer, what’s going on?” you said, opening your door and immediately bringing him inside. The saddest part was that he let you do it. He didn’t stop you when you took him in your arms. Neither when you brought him to the sofa and sat him on it while you kneeled in front of him.

He was shaking; his face looked red from the tears and the scratching he did with his fingers, trying to take the pain away. But it didn’t work. And hurt him even more.

You grabbed one of his hands to take it away from his face. You tried to ease his joints with a soft caress. You even tried to make eye contact, but it was a lost cause with the way he was closing his eyes hardly, probably hurting himself like that. “Talk to me, Spence,” you whispered, putting your chin on his knee. “Open to me.”

You hated how he pinched his lips together before talking, like he was trying so hard to not break down. “I can’t,” he sobbed. He repeated that multiple times, sounding more angry with himself each time.

But the fact he wasn’t letting go of your hand made you believe that maybe a part of him, maybe just a very little one, wanted to have you. He still came to you tonight, right?

“Why won’t you let me help you?”

This was a genuine question. One that grew over the last weeks. Sometimes, you would wake up in the middle of the night wondering which signs you might have missed when he was here. What did he try to hide from you with kisses and attention that you weren’t asking for? And if maybe you weren’t an accomplice of his troubles by accepting all his treats, knowing it was an excuse to keep everything from himself.

And during these moments, you imagined what Spencer might have answered. That he didn’t want his burden to impact your relationship, that he didn’t want to talk to you specifically.

But you never considered what was coming as an answer.

“…because I don’t deserve it.”

The world went silent.

Except for your heart that just fell on the floor and broke into a million pieces.

Except for Spencer’s sorrow being louder than ever in your small living room.

It was obvious that Spencer wasn’t doing ok. But you couldn’t imagine how broken he really was.

You couldn’t force him to look at you and make him see he wasn’t alone at all. So you put your forehead against his, his sweaty hair sticking against your skin. Your arms wrapped against Spencer so you could hold him against him. You couldn’t believe that this grown-up man, in his thirty, could be a broken kid inside. You tried to hold back the tears.

You stayed like that for minutes; you don’t even know how long. This could last an hour or two if he needed to. You probably could have stayed all night if it meant calming Spencer down.

Little by little, you felt his shaking stop and even one of his hands land on your arm. The pressure of his fingers on your skin wasn’t harder, almost like he didn’t have any strength anymore. It was more like a delicate touch. One that reminded you of the old days, when Spencer was too shy to touch you.

Once you felt he was ready to hear this, maybe not listen yet but at least be able to understand what you were saying, you stopped hugging him so you could grab his face in your hands. “You deserve to be helped. I—who told you this?”

You met the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen at this moment. Couple with his sad smile. Oh, how you wished you could just kiss the pain away for once.

“I just…” he started, with a grazed, hoarse voice. “Every person in my life ends up sad or hurt or dead. I’m a problem. I’m a burden. I don’t deserve someone to take the time to help me, be there for me. I can’t risk someone, you, taking the time to make me feel better if it means losing you at some point. I can’t, I can’t do that again.” You heard the sob in his voice at the end.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Spencer gave you the look, one he strangely never gave to you but that you understood immediately, meaning that he still had a lot to say. And deep down, you were happy to shut it if it meant he was finally opening up.

“I was taking care of a kid these days. We knew he might be in danger, so I was supposed to make sure he would be fine while working the case.” Spencer took a moment to continue, but you could only focus on the tear running down his cheek. “He got killed. Because I couldn’t protect him. Everyone around me has something bad happening to them. Even in my job. How can I be such a bad person?”

You started brushing away the tears with your thumb, but Spencer cuddled against your hand. There was something even sadder with this man feeling like he didn’t deserve to have someone yet still craving every attention he could get.

“You’re not a burden, Spencer,” you whispered, and he closed his eyes again. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to go through all these moments by yourself. I can’t imagine how hurt you must be from living such difficult times over and over again. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have someone by your side.”

He didn’t answer. You weren’t sure this was the best decision, but you sat on his knees, trying to be closer to him so you could make him feel less alone.

You thought that if he didn’t want that, he would push you away. But the way Spencer's hands ended up on your back so quickly made you think that maybe he needed that too.

“I can’t and won’t force myself into your life, Spencer, never,” you said, brushing his hair away from his face. “But if you’re ready to try, I can be by your side and help you consider that you deserve to be a supporter. Not only by me but by all the people that love you.”

Again, your words working on him, Spencer opened his eyes slowly. This time, even if the sorrow was still present, there was the smallest and almost slightest light in them. “Because people love you, Spencer Reid.”

As an answer, the only one he could give you, Spencer brought you against him and hugged you as hard as he could. It wasn’t the tightest hug he ever gave, but it was the best he could do. And it was enough. Enough to know that you opened a door in his mind.

You offered your bed to Spencer that night, but he insisted on you staying by your side. He refused to let you know it was due to the fear of the nightmares he had for months now. Nightmares that always had different stories but ended the same way: with him losing someone and being alone.

All he needed was you, and you were willing to give yourself entirely to help him get better.

You didn’t know if you imagined it, but you were sure that when he was falling asleep, holding you against him like an antistress comforter, Spencer thanked you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #Matthew Gray Gubler #Matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #Matthew gray gubler x you #Matthew gray gubler x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds story #msg #mgg x reader #my writing

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pynkhues · 3 days ago

Note

Another fanfic writer got ran out of the fandom this weekend because of a 'guilty by association' harassment campaign. She wrote fic of Loustat switching and having a very Canonverse relationship, and a teenager started insulting her writing and inciting harassment by others until she quit writing. The allegation was she was mutuals with someone else who was assumed to be racist, which is flimsy enough, but the real reason was obviously that she wrote popular, beloved fics that did not subscribe to the Hypermasculine Daddy Lestat and Hyperfeminine Housewife Louis Fanon.

This fandom is a horrible place and I am so glad you're still with us and haven't let these people bully you into silence, Sophie. It's so awful.

I'm really, really sorry to hear that, anon. Can I ask who the author is? I'd like to have a look and maybe send them a message or a comment if I can. Hopefully they might be a bit like me though and come back after giving themselves some time and buffer.

It's all pretty hideous behaviour though, and mm - - okay, you know. It's been a few weeks since it all went down with me now, and I've had a lot of people reach out very kindly in DMs, and also had to have y'know, I guess I'd say offbeat, haha, and awkward and heavy conversations with people in my real life, both personally and professionally (although I will say it's kind of been a relief, and half my family has already turned it into a running joke. My mum, who was the first person I told, watched Disclaimer after I recommended it to her, and she keeps texting me photos of the Kevin Kline stalker character with 'your erotic fanfiction haters' and asking me if I'm sure I didn't kill somebody's son, lmao), but I've been thinking about it all a lot, and - - yeah.

Look, this is going to sound off topic, but bear with me for a minute, alright? Over the last two weeks, purely by coincidence, I listened to the Behind the Bastards episodes on Rush Limbaugh. I love that podcast in general, and those two episodes are fascinating, and really worth listening to if you're at all interested in the media landscape's pivot to the right in the last few years. They really explore who he is as a person, his ascent in radio, how he managed that ascent, and the space he created in media which would after him be filled by Fox News, Tucker Carlson, Joe Rogan,et al.

One of the ways that he did this was by being loud, but also presenting himself as trustworthy, and really the only person anyone needed to listen to. He was a smart guy, anyway, anyone could hear that, and if people listened to him, they'd be smart too. One of the first majorly successful runs of this was his campaign against the show Murphy Brown, which is about a woman who is a single mother and a lawyer, successful, bright, and who interacts with a lot of gay people in different capacities in her every day life. Murphy Brown is famous for being one of the first shows to normalise both successful single motherhood, and LGBTQI+ people as varied members of our communities.

Now, Limbaugh positioned the show as offensive, and anyone who liked it as morally wrong, but more than that, he positioned his opinion as the only right one, and he would actively tell people not only to not watch the show, but to not engage with anyone who might have an opinion of it that wasn't his own. He did this by telling people they would be stupid, or 'missing something' if they didn't follow his obvious intellect, that they didn't need to think about it themselves, because he would do the thinking for them, Smart Person That He Was.

And so I'm like, y'know, listening to the podcast on my commute to work, and I just kind of think - - huh. Because it's kind of familiar, right? And I got thinking about how all those people were reblogging my 'vile anti black post' and telling all their followers to block me, thus trying to control their followers ability to see my posts, and presumably the posts of others, since they seem to do that a bit, and then I noticed that those same people trying to ensure everyone blocked me.....didn't block me themselves. And it suddenly just clicked into place.

Fascist rhetoric has come to fandom. Per the Merriam-Webster Dictionary:

In simplest terms, fascism refers to a specific way of organizing a society: under fascism, a government ruled by a dictator controls the lives of the people in that society, and allows no dissent or disagreement.

Fascism is more than just political, it's a philosphy and a mindset. Rush Limbaugh was a media figure, and he was a fascist, and interestingly - importantly - he did not believe in most of what he said. What he wanted was power, success, control, an audience, and to dictate the rhetoric in the media landscape because that granted him that power, success, control, and audience.

And look, I'm not saying these people attacking others with different opinions in the fandom are fascists, but they're using a fascist playbook. Their criticisms, harassment campaigns, threats to dox, actual doxxing, threats to not only involve but criminally endanger children (which I have since learnt my nephews were not the first target of - someone in this fandom who I won't name reached out to tell me they'd similarly threatened to send things to her children) (also I've seen posts that the people who initially were vocally strawmanning my arguments wouldn't do that, and sure, maybe they wouldn't, but all I can say is that if I knew members of my own corner of the fandom were threatening to find and send porn to any minor, let alone children as young as 7, I would be loudly and outspokenly condemning it), and attempts to suppress anything they don't agree with, is fascist behaviour.

They are allowing no dissent, no disagreement, and actively interfering with people's real lives to achieve that.

I don't think this will make any difference to them, I think some might not know what they're doing, but I think a lot do at this point, and I guess what I want to do in this post is just to share what I personally think that it is, and I guess - - mm, not offer words of advice exactly, but perhaps offer some gentle encouragement. I'd encourage anyone in this fandom - hell, everyone in life right now, given the state of things - to approach anyone who tells you there is only one way to create, only one way to enjoy something, or interpret something, or only a select group of people that you should listen to, with caution at the very least.

Fandom - again, hell, community - has always, to me, been about encouraging others to explore and engage with it on their own terms. Diversity of opinion is good, it's healthy, different takes on characters should be exciting, different iterations in fanart and fanfiction is a celebration of the fact that we bring our own stories to, well, stories, and anyone telling you who you should or shouldn't engage with without having a healthy, equal conversation about why you shouldn't engage with them, should be given respectful, reasonable doubt.

Anyway, I'm sure this'll piss people off again, but y'know, I don't really care about them at this point. I think their behaviour is ugly, antithetical to what fandom has always been about, and frankly, I think it's antisocial. I do care about you guys though, and I don't know. I hope this perhaps sheds a little bit of light for you in the same way that I felt it shed a little bit of light for me, or at least makes you think a little bit more broadly about what this desire to control is a part of, and how to engage (or rather, not) with it. But more than anything, I hope that author's okay, and that they've made friends in this fandom like I have who can offer their support.

#it's also interesting to note when this sort of thing flares up #it def happens when there's a flurry of bottom lestat fic on ao3 #but i was saying to someone in dm's yesterday morning that i wondered if something would happen #after the writers room posted their wall of fanart and there was not a single f*mme louis artwork (of which there is an abundance) on it #and lo #here it is #i've been in this fandom like 8 months and it's interesting to start to notice the cycles and trigger points #i do think it's gearing up too because there's a lot more convo about tvl / the fact that it's happening #and like #i don't think lestat is a gothic heroine #but he definitely has scenes where he shares archetype tropes in that regard in tvl more than louis ever has #lmao i feel like i'm swinging right now i should stop #(casual reminder to anyone who might be reading that i have an open case with the esafety commission in australia rn #and a digital safety lawyer care of my mum close at hand <3)

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wooyoungbf · 2 days ago

Note

[img id:

screenshot of a tumblr text post, in response to an ask. it reads:

saxifraga-x-urbium said "You can't just casually mention garlic cock man and not tell the story that's against the law"

the reply from stammsternenstaub reads

Are you sure you know what you're asking of me? Are you sure? Well, okay. But don't say I didn't warn you.

This post is long and contains description of genital injury.

So as you'll know, worked three and: a half long, hilarious years at an NHS sexual health and contraception clinic. I loved that job, and packed it in because the Tory cuts to the service meant running it became hideously untenably stressful, but that's a story for another time.

One of my duties at the clinic was to take phone calls. Patients liked me on the phone because I have a nice voice and I'm basically completely unflappable, and they felt happy to tell me things. A vital skill in the wang biz.

One day, a man called. This was not unusual, "Hello," he said. "I need to see one of your nurses about my, er, my chap."

"Righty-oh sir," I said, "are you experiencing any symptoms that you're concerned about? It's just a yes or no kind of question."

"Well," he said, and I instantly felt a dark and terrible energy pulsate down the phone. "Well... sort of. But, uh, it's not symptoms of anything, it's just..."

I would come to regret what I said next. "Is everything all right, sir?"

"Well." There was a pause heard fidgeting. "I got a yeast infection."

Phew, easy peasy. Yeasties are easy to fix. I sounded reassuring and buoyant. "Well that's nothing to worry about, sir - if you don't want to get anything over the counter from the chemist, we can-"

"No, no that's not the problem. Listen -" he sounded serious. "Listen, I'll just tell you what's the matter, and you'll see what I mean."

This is where, whenever I tell this story, I like to ask the listener to play a little game with me. The game is "Where Would You Tap Out?" I'd have already tapped out by going to the chemist and getting some Canestan.

"I didn't want any chemicals on my chap, so I decided to go for a home remedy. Internet said garlic was good for yeast infections, and I've got a lot of garlic, so I figured that'd be all right."

I made sympathetic noises. Home remedies for yeast infections are normal, and garlic is actually quite effective. "Oh good," I said.

"I wasn't sure how much to use, but I figured, I have lot of garlic usually, so I minced a whole bulb."

The dark energy wafting down the phone intensified.

"I packed it all over my, you know, knob, made a poultice. Packed it all over the head, like a hat But, uh, Iwasn't sure how to keep it on.."

I couldn't say anything. I didn't want to scare him off by sounding judgemental.

"..so I just duct taped it all on. Wrapped duct tape all round it."

Still with us? Tapped out yet?

"So er, that worked, kept it on nice and tight, and I left it on over night."

Over night. All night with your cock mummified in garlic paste like some sort of fiendish chicken kiev.

"Caustic,"' I said, before I could stop myself. "Garlic is caustic."

"Yeah! Yeah, it is!" he said, sounding cheerful that l, too, understood the Way of Garlic. "So I unwrapped my dick and, well, it looked kind of like... melted."

I sat, silent, on the phone. Already I'd missed 6 other calls, watching them sail by on the other line while this saga unfolded.

"So I figured," he continued, the terrible juggernaut barrelling unstoppably through this phallic disaster, "I should probably exfoliate it."

"Exfoliate," I echoed weakly.

"Yeah," said this abject human disaster, misinterpreting my echolalic expression of horror as hearty encouragement. "So I had a look around the kitchen -" he was in the kitchen for all this "- for anything I could use and got my brillo pad-"

For anyone not in the UK, that's what we call one of these:

(a picture of a stack of green scouring pads)

I must have betrayed myself and given a gasp of horror at that point, because he quickly reassured me - "No, no, no, it's okay - it was a new one!" before going on to describe scrubbing the affected area to

remove the alkaline chemical burn that he'd inflicted on his poor, blameless cock.

"So you want to come in because of. this?" I said, assuming he would want a new dick by this point.

"Oh no, no " he said, jovial again. "No, it's all fine - it just, my knob's gone all... well, it kind of looks camo print now. I was wondering if you could do anything about it looking camo print."

No, sir. No, neither we nor anyone else can do anything about your camo print garlic cock mistake.

/end id]

okay so I don't know how to look it up but there was this reddit story about a guy who heard you could use garlic as a home remedy for an std and /wrapped his dick/ in garlic cloves and duck taped them on. when he took it off his dick looked all "melted" (because of the fucking CHEMICAL BURNS from that). so he tried to scrub the melted parts off with a brillo pad. he called a doctor's line not because of all that, but because the brillo pad made his dick "camo print".

Well he wasn’t worrying about STDs anymore

OK seriously though I’ve never heard of that guy and I am sad that he didn’t have access to better information.

#tw penis injury #tw genitalia injury #ask to tag /#long post /#*text #jesus CHRIST dude #*img id

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no-goodbyes-no-regrets · 23 hours ago

Text

Look at me finally finishing something!

For @bucktommyfluffebruary day 5: Mundane chores

Operation Supermarket (AO3)

Food shop/grocery shopping

(it's mostly from Tommy's pov so Buck is referred to as Evan)

I have a lot of partially written fics/ficlets for almost all of the days, and I do plan on finishing all of them - though they probably won't be posted on the 'right' days.

----

"Do you have the list?"

"Yup. Right here." Tommy handed over the item as he pushed their shopping cart into the supermarket with his free hand.

He'd given Evan free rein of the kitchen and planning their second six month anniversary, and the other man approached it with an almost military precision.

He'd spent weeks scrolling through cooking websites, looking through cookbooks, and even a Rolodex of recipes he'd gotten from somewhere until he'd put together the perfect anniversary dinner.

Even though Tommy had told him more than once he'd be happy to go out to dinner or even just order a pizza.

"Babe you forgot the garlic." Evan pulled him out of his thoughts, studying the shopping list and apparently making notes.

Tommy had no idea where he'd even gotten a pen from.

"No, I didn't forget it, I didn't put it on the list because we still have some."

"No we don't, I used the last of it last night."

Tommy frowned.

"We ordered in last night."

"Yeah but I started prepping for dinner tonight while you were at the game with Eddie." Evan explained. "The sauce takes a long time... and it needs garlic. Which you forgot to put on the list, even though I wrote it on the note board on the fridge."

The small white board and marker on his fridge had been one of Evan's changes to his kitchen when he'd started spending more time at Tommy's place and essentially made the kitchen his own.

He had to admit it was useful to keep track of what he'd ran out of and what he needed to buy for specific meals, or even just what was on offer, but Tommy had always been a quick look in the fridge before leaving for the store kind of guy, and usually decided on the spot if he liked any of the special offers.

Evan's methods were very different.

"The note board doesn't work if you don't look at it, Tom." Evan sighed.

"I'm trying to make myself remember, I promise."

"You can just get rid of it if you don't like it... but I just... I thought it was a good way to keep track of things."

"It is. I'm just not really used to it yet." Tommy explained. "You have a certain way of doing things and I have mine, we just need to find a way to make them fit with mine. And we will."

Evan gave him a small smile and turned back to the list.

"Alright if we go aisle to aisle, it'll be more efficient, and we'll have time to stop by Miceli's."

"Miceli's? I thought you didn't want to go back there because the place is cursed?"

"It is cursed." Evan said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But you love their spumoni and the tiramisu is great... and we can still treat ourselves to the food if we take it to go."

"So the curse is just the building then? Not the food?" Tommy teased. "Are we really going to risk it?"

"Yes because I'm not letting you walk away again." Evan vowed. "Been there, done that, didn't enjoy it, won't be doing it again."

"Same here." Tommy smiled. "Ok, so, garlic. What else is on the list?"

Evan scanned the list and looked around the store.

"We need bread and those crackers you like that taste of nothing."

"They're a healthy and easy snack." Tommy protested

"It's like eating cardboard." Evan replied without missing a beat. "Right, I need to pick up some snacks for Jee because I have her on Thursday... and you start a 48 on Friday that overlaps with my 72 starting Saturday, so we'll be back at yours... Tuesday or Wednesday. Unless you want to come over to mine right after my shift? Or you could stop by the firehouse after yours, I'm sure everyone would love to see you. And you know Bobby is fine with it as long as everything still gets done. And - " he looked up to find Tommy staring at him. "What? What's that look?"

"What look? I don't have a look."

"Yes you do. You -"

"He loves you honey." an old lady patted Evan on the arm. "My husband used to look at me like that. We were together 44 years. You hold onto to that one honey. He's a good one. I can see it in his eyes." she smiled at them both and then continued with her shopping.

Tommy walked over to him, slid his arms around Evan's waist and kissed him.

"Yeah. What she said."

#Bucktommy #bucktommy fic #Tevan #tevan fic #My writing

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denimecho · 19 hours ago

Text

I've been having issues falling asleep for the past few days. Whenever I try, I end up lying awake for hours thinking about things I'd prefer not to. Recently, though, there's been something new that I don't know how to manage alone, yet I also don't much feel like talking to anyone in specific about it.

I know it isn't my style to make a post like this, but I figure if there's a chance it offers some relief, it's worth a try.

It's been... possibly 4 years now, I think, since I cut my parents out of my life. I have never regretted this decision. There's been many times that it's been hard, because the feelings involved are conflicting even when you're sure you're making the right decision. Logic and emotion don't always go hand in hand, after all, so while I've always known my decision to do this was entirely fair, I have, of course, felt guilt and despair, loneliness, nowhere to turn to when times are hard.

It's odd when I think about it. I've always known that there were no parents to turn to, even when we were still in contact, because those were not the kinds of people they were. Superficially, yes, my mom is capable of being warm. That's perhaps the most terrifying thing about her, that she can be so warm and so kind, yet also so ridiculously cruel that it's hard to fathom it's coming from the same person. Neither of them inspired the trust that would make one feel like there are "always people who love you that you can turn to", but even so, once it was official that we wouldn't talk again and their numbers were blocked, it felt a different kind of true for the first time.

I've often missed my mom, or "wanted my mom", but known it wasn't her, the person, that I missed, but rather the concept of a mom. I think what I really missed those times were, in the end, some kind of security; an unconditional love that one can trust to always be there. I believe I have people I can trust in this manner, but it's not always easy to stay believing, when I know as well that they were raised to think family is the bond you can truly trust. I have to believe something else is true, because otherwise there is no one to truly trust.

I've long since given up wondering how my parents justify it to themselves that they do not love me. I'm sure they believe they do, somehow. Fact still is that they've attempted to reconnect with their favourite child time and time again, yet never me. They don't even ask about me when they try to sway my brother to speak to them again, and when he tells me so, I say that I know. "I know, I'm not surprised, yeah classic them". I've known since I was a kid that I "wasn't what they hoped for" - what my mom hoped for, at least. My dad didn't hope for kids in the first place - and it no longer hurts that they feel nothing for me. I don't know what it feels like, but it doesn't hurt, I'd say. In fact, part of me is thankful that they find me disappointing because it means I couldn't fix their misery by reestablishing contact with them anyway. They're practically letting me go guilt free.

But... lately I can't sleep, because even though I logically always knew this was the case when I made my choice, it's only now that I truly understand that the next time I can expect to speak to one of my parents again is when one of them dies. I've considered myself pretty much orphaned since we cut contact, but I do know they are alive somewhere. Yet we will never see each other again. We will never resolve anything. We cannot, because even if they said everything I'd always wanted to hear, I will never trust them with myself, with the power they have over me. Now I think of their faces, their smiles when they were occasionally warm, their voices, and that they will die. And I will know nothing of what they were like in the end. I will never hear them speak again, and the day I finally do, it will be for that reason.

I'm not sure what to feel about this. I just can't sleep.

#;text #tw: bad parental relationship

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revvethasmythh · 7 hours ago

Note

sorry, i'm new to the fandom but i instantly fell in love with widobrave….. is the ship really that unpopular?

well first, hello, and welcome to the fandom!! (both cr and widobrave!)

second, i think it's actually difficult for me to track how popular/unpopular widobrave is right now in the fandom, and i only started shipping it in 2020 so I can't give a full historical perspective on what the shipping scene looked like at the beginning besides what i've heard (people thought nott was a child at the very beginning of the show, then it turned into "nott is caleb's mom!" after that, and i'll exempt some further details in case you don't want any potential spoilers since you're new and I don't know how much you know, but those two things did a lot to make the ship....undesirable to the masses, shall we say). from my own perspective, I remember going into the ship and feeling like it was fairly fringe back in 2020 (and it was). small group of people, usually exclusively nott stans, were like the only people you'd see shipping it and a lot of people reacted negatively to the idea of the ship. there was an undercurrent that it was bad because some found it "incestuous" due to feeling like nott was caleb's mother (a thing that it not true in either the literal or metaphorical capacity!) and this has been the most persistent pushback against the ship that i am aware of. generally, back in the day, there was a sense that nott couldn't seriously be shipped with anyone, but especially not someone she thought of as "her kid," much as that's simply a popularly proliferated misunderstanding of ONE scene in the entire show.

the current state of widobrave affairs? i honestly don't know. it's certainly still a very small ship, but there's been a LOT of lightening up about it in the years since the campaign ended. i've seen a lot more neutral-positive opinions toward it, whereas in years past...i mean, i've been blocked just for shipping it. i've seen more than one "do NOT tag this as widobrave" statement on art pieces, like...it was considered FRINGE once upon a time. but i feel like it's stopped being fringe and is now just...small? again, it's usually exclusively nott stans that ship it, so already not a big pool of people just based on that. it's certainly not mainsteam or anything, but i certainly feel more comfortable maintagging my widobrave posts these days than i used to. i think a lot of people just don't want to look at the relationship in a romantic light, despite the fact that in most circumstances their initial setup would have been a HUGE jumping off point for shipping (just look at the immediacy of imogen/laudna shipping, who share practically the same backstory/relationship setup), and generally prefer the other, bigger ships in the fandom. it would probably take a dissertation's worth of explanation to dig into all the reasons why that is, but that is generally where the ship sits in the fandom.

if anyone has more insight on the history of the ship's fandom reception/current reception, i'd love to hear it since it missed out on those founding years! and again, a hearty to welcome to the fandom! it's always nice to see an new widobraver around

#cr tag #asks #anon

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lcvebuckley · 19 hours ago

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mornings with you

written for @bucktommyfluffebruary

prompt : day 5 - mundane chores | word count : 672 | rated : G

i'm back! i took a quick break hence i missed a few days but i will be catching up slowly,, i'm planning to post two (usually shorter) fics per day until i catch up to the daily prompt and hopefully get back on track before valentine's!

enjoy! ♡

Mornings used to be simple for Tommy. His alarm would go off, he'd roll out of bed, shower, brush his teeth, grab a protein bar, and head out. Efficient. Quiet. No distractions.

And then Evan happened.

Or in which Tommy's morning routine is not the same anymore.

full version below or read on ao3

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Mornings used to be simple for Tommy. His alarm would go off, he'd roll out of bed, shower, brush his teeth, grab a protein bar, and head out. Efficient. Quiet. No distractions.

And then Evan happened.

Now, mornings were an entirely different experience. Starting with the fact that Tommy didn’t just wake up anymore. No, he was woken up—either by Evan draping himself over him like a human blanket, mumbling something about "five more minutes," or by Evan pressing half-asleep kisses to his shoulder, his face buried against Tommy’s neck. If the younger woke up before him (which wasn’t often), Tommy would find himself being watched, Evan grinning like he won the lottery.

And then there was the bathroom situation. Tommy had been used to peaceful solo time, but Evan had no concept of personal space. If Tommy was brushing his teeth, he would squeeze in next to him, arms wrapped around Tommy’s waist from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. It was like trying to get ready with a very affectionate, overly large koala attached to him.

“You’re making this very difficult,” Tommy would mutter, spitting into the sink. Evan, still clinging, would grin at him in the mirror. “You love it.”

Tommy did love it. That was the problem.

On some mornings, when Evan was extra groggy, he’d try to brush his teeth with his eyes half-closed, inevitably making a mess. Tommy would chuckle, bumping Evan’s shoulder just to mess with him—causing the younger to get toothpaste all over his cheek and waking him up almost immediately.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Evan would groan, while Tommy would try his best to bite down a laugh. Of course, Evan didn’t let that slide. He’d poke Tommy’s sides in revenge, their sleepy morning routine briefly devolving into laughter and playful shoves. Eventually, Tommy would sigh, grab a washcloth, and wipe the toothpaste off Evan’s cheek and chin while Evan smiled at him like an idiot.

Breakfast was another adjustment. Tommy used to be fine with a quick meal—just enough to get by. But Evan had decided that wasn’t acceptable. “We’re living together now, Tommy, you can’t just survive on caffeine and vibes.” So now, breakfast was a whole thing.

Sometimes it was eggs and toast, sometimes pancakes, sometimes just fruit and yogurt. Evan, being the better cook, usually took the lead, while Tommy handled the coffee. Except Evan insisted on being a distraction—hovering and wrapping his arms around the older’s waist as he poured their coffee, murmuring a sleepy, “Mmm, warm,” like Tommy was a damn space heater.

“You do realize we have an actual heater, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s not you.”

And what was Tommy supposed to say to that? Absolutely nothing. He just shook his head and let Evan cling to him, because, well—he didn’t mind it. Not one bit.

By the time they both had to leave for work, their routine ended the same way every morning: Evan stealing a kiss at the door, lingering for just a second too long, making Tommy roll his eyes playfully but also kissing him back just as much.

“Be safe,” Evan would say every time either of them had to leave for shift, and Tommy would do the same. It was something they’d said to each other from the very start of their relationship, a small reassurance in the face of their dangerous jobs. Having someone to come home to made all the difference.

Even on mornings they didn’t spend together due to different shifts, they found ways to keep the routine alive. A quick FaceTime, a “Good morning, handsome” text, a picture of breakfast even if they weren’t eating together. They love keeping each other company no matter how far apart they were and it was a quiet sort of intimacy, the kind Tommy never imagined he’d experience.

Yeah. Tommy’s mornings used to be quiet. Peaceful. Simple.

Now they were warm, messy, and full of Evan.

And he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

#911 #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #tevan #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #bucktommyfluffebruary #nana writes

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thezombieprostitute · 16 hours ago

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Tech Tuesday: Curtis Everett

Summary: Your ex shows back up in your life.

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Ex-boyfriend angst, Hospital setting, Past abuse. Please let me know if I missed any!

Series Masterlist

It's been a couple weeks since Curtis diagnosed your computer's hardware problems. With the new fan you hadn't had any problems and were able to get back to gaming. To the chagrin of many, Snowpiercer85 and HeartMonitor3000 were back and topping the charts. It was nice to have some wins in your pocket.

Conversation between the two of you seemed even easier than before. Curtis still never pushed you to meet up again. He didn't take a more domineering attitude now that you've met. He was just as respectful and patient as before. You really appreciated that.

So much so, it gave you the courage to ask if he wanted to meet up again. Curtis was elated and again agreed to your time and place requests, reiterating that he wants you to feel safe. This time you were going to meet him at the coffee shop outside the hospital after your shift. If he can't handle you post-14-hour-shift better to know it now.

First, though, you have to actually get through your shift. Easier said than done, you think as you start walking the ICU. Almost every bed is full and you're already looking at working through all of your breaks. Checking the charts you're at least grateful Dr. Beck on deck for the night. He's one of the best at handling a crisis and is really difficult to shake when he's on the job.

One chart makes you stop in your tracks. The name reads "Chase Collins" and your blood freezes. Looking at the person in the bed, it's a little difficult to see him past all the breathing equipment and the neck brace, but it could be him. Your ex. Checking the rest of the chart, all of the information lines up with what you remember of him.

According to the chart his motorcycle was hit by a truck. You remember the day he bought it with the money you loaned him to pay for his rent. You were so upset and he only laughed at you. Soon after you started moving your things to your friend's place.

Slowly you put the chart back and head over to the nurses station, struggling to keep breathing. Sitting down you pull out your phone and open Discord. It's an off hour, but it looks like Curtis is playing.

Heart: Are you able to talk? Snow: Sure. Heart: Chase is here. Snow: What do you need me to do? Heart: Tell me I'm going to be okay? Snow: You're the strongest person I know. You're definitely going to be okay. Heart: Thanks.

Curtis feels his jaw clench at your message. He's immediately put down his game so that he can focus on chatting with you. He wants to run off to the hospital to hold you. To keep you safe. But he knows that's not what you want. That he has to wait for permission. He's worked so hard to earn your trust, he's not going to overstep now. No matter how much he wants to.

After a few hours you've calmed down, settled into your work routine. Chase hasn't woken up and you're taking that as a blessing. You've explained to Vanessa, the head nurse, that Chase is your ex-boyfriend, leaving out the history of emotional abuse, and she agreed to keep you as the primary nurse for other patients.

You can't remember the last time you were so tense at work. The ICU can be such a stressful workplace; periods of calm broken up with bouts of organized chaos to keep a patient from dying. But it's never felt so ominous. You were dreading the moment Chase woke up. Dreading the chance he might see you, recognize you. It wouldn't be the first time you hoped a patient never woke up, but you've never felt it so strongly.

It's 2 AM and you want to talk to Curtis, but he's probably asleep. You check Discord and see his status as playing. That's strange, you think to yourself. Normally he's very good about his sleep habits. Still, you're not going to turn down an opportunity to vent.

Heart: Is it bad I don't want him to wake up? At least not while I'm on shift?

Your eyebrows raise in surprise as it takes Curtis less than a minute to reply.

Snow: Not at all. Heart: Can't believe you're actually awake right now. Snow: Can't sleep. Heart: Did you try a warm glass of milk? Snow: That's never worked for me. I'll sleep after our meet-up tomorrow. If you still want to. Heart: You really shouldn't drive on so little sleep. Snow: Says the person who's going to be driving after having had just as little sleep. Heart: But I'm used to it. Snow: Tushy Snow: Touché! Touché! Damn autocorrect!

Your shoulders start bouncing with contained laughter, you don't want to wake up the patients.

Heart: Thank you for the laugh. I really needed that. Snow: Any time? If only I'd done that on purpose. Heart: It's still appreciated. Thank you. Snow: And you still want to meet at the cafe in the morning? Heart: Yes, please.

Curtis continues to keep an eye on the Discord chat. He's not even playing, just keeping the game on so you can see he's actively awake, so you don't hesitate to chat with him when you need it. Seeing Chase had to have been quite the shock for you and this is a way he can be there for you. Even if you never want to be more than friends, Curtis knows he'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, help you, support you.

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82 ; @peyton-warren @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare; @thiquefunlover63

#tech tuesday #tech tuesday: curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x nurse!reader #curtis everett x female!reader

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aradiaravenswood · 1 day ago

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407 Days

407 days ago, I decided to write Harry Potter fan fiction after having not written creatively in over ten years. I took a couple of old scenes I had written that had never gone anywhere, added one scene from the perspective of Lucius Malfoy, and posted my first chapter on New Year's Eve, 2023.

407 days later, here we are. This has been an absolutely incredible journey, and I am so honored by the outpouring of support I have received along the way. I've found community here in a way that I was missing, and I can honestly say that writing restitution in absentia has fed my soul in a way that I didn't realize I had been longing for. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so so much for sticking with me, Ginny, and Draco on this journey. I couldn't have done it without you all - they've certainly grown throughout this story, and so have I, and I hope maybe you have too. Hearing people connect with Draco's and Ginny's emotional journeys warms my little therapist heart.

But don't worry - I'm not going anywhere. As you can see, I've created a series for this fic. Anise said it best in a comment last chapter - what happens after the happy ending, given how much these characters have gone through and how much they still have to resolve? Sometime in 2025, I will be releasing a sequel to this fic entitled "where the sky meets the sea." It will be much less of an action-based story and more of an exploration of Ginny and Draco's relationship. My working summary is: "In which Draco Malfoy goes to trauma therapy, as told by a trauma therapist. In which Ginny Weasley deals with the aftermath of accidentally temporarily becoming a god - oops. In which Draco and Ginny learn to love each other and lead fulfilling lives in a post-Voldemort world."

I don't know an exact release date yet, as I need to fully map it out and I am planning on working on some shorter projects first, but sometime in 2025 for sure - I recommend subscribing either to this series or to me as an author on AO3 if you don't want to miss an update! My pacing will also almost certainly slow down, as you've seen over the last couple months. I did the math, and I wrote over 50,000 words every single month of 2024 - very awesome, but definitely not how 2025 will look.

Again, I'm so honored that you've taken this journey with me, and I'd love to hear from you, either here, on AO3, or on Discord. Please check my AO3 profile for a link to it if you don't have it already. My Carrd is also linked there, where you can get a sneak preview of fics I have planned for this year. I'll also be updating my pinned post on Tumblr to better reflect everything that's on my Carrd.

I wish you well, dear readers - restitution in absentia is now complete.

#harry potter fanfiction #ginny weasley #draco malfoy #drinny #draco and ginny #story: restitution in absentia #draco x ginny #fanfic #fanfiction

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lotus-pear · 6 months ago

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mourning black and the death of ideals

#i haven't moved on from this yet. btw. i'm still here #finally decided to draw the thought i've been ruminating over for days on end bc it's like a parasite eating away my brain #stated this on the initial post i made days ago but there's just smt so gut wrenching and sickening #about how dazai will have worn black exactly twice in his life: once as a member of the mafia and now at kunikida's funeral #a color that initially signified devotion to the mafia and his demon prodigy alias now signifies his grief #him having to wear black again at the funeral of another doomed fatalist who chose his heart over his survival. his own partner.#kunikida's death being so reminiscent of the tragedy that initially caused him to defect and flee #and everything tying together full circle and effectively breaking him #asagiri rly said fuck knkdz it's doppover we lost gang 😭😭😭#why did bro leave that fucking notebook behind #fool. do you know that angst potential you have left me to work with?#love never won in bsd. it lay dead and festering #i don't know how much longer i can keep saying i miss them. i'm going to kill myself if he doesn't come back #i've never wanted something to be death bait so desperately #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #kunikidazai #knkdz #kunizai #(??? technically. its implied anyway)#lotus draws

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sainz100 · 3 months ago

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2024 Brazilian GP | x

#franco colapinto #autumn posts #I'm so conflicted about all the rumors!!#I want him to have a spot for 2025!! but rbr is kinda falling apart!! and we've seen how especially callous they can be 😢#I miss Daniel so much 🥺 I've been on my usual insta dives and everytime I see vcarb I still pause out of habit #still I agree with so many folks that its good he got away from rbr who never were going to give him the respect and opportunities!!#so I worry for Franco!!!#and poor Max gosh this FiA balogna and the car just not performing 🥲#tbh I've been hiding in like 2017 posts just soaking up content I missed from bygone days!#I spam my sideblog verstappen100 if anyone wants like mostly Daniel throwback yearning hehe 🙂‍↕️#idk the vibes feel off this GP especially so like...idk how to explain it!!#but anyways I think I'm just new and I'm sick irl so just kinda stewing in the feels #nothing some gifs can't fix 🙂‍↕️#and I have to work tomorrow 🥲 but then!!! freedom!!!#anyways just rambling...#I like to hide in the tags and the side blog but I know that #hiding how I feel is blocking me from making true connections in fandom!!#I worry I'll say something silly or something #but maybe I should be more brave instead of hiding #oh anyways!!!#if you're reading all this!! thank you! hehe nothing huge just feeling dumping before slumber 😴#I hope all is well!!#sending good energy out to Franco on such a hard weekend #and to Daniel hopefully chilling and dreaming up something excellent 💞#and to y'all!! have a good night morning and afternoon!! 🌙☀️☁️#going to add a few more photos before I go!!

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capricorn-ascending · 1 year ago

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Faithful and Virtuous Night, Louise Gluck (insp)

On February 1st 2024, it was announced that 7-time Formula 1 World Champion Lewis Hamilton and Formula 1 team Mercedes AMG Petronas would be parting ways after the 2024 season. This announcement ends an 11-year long partnership between Hamilton and the Mercedes works team, and a 17-year long relationship with their parent company, Mercedes-Benz.

Hamilton will drive for Scuderia Ferrari in the 2025 season. It will be the first time in his racing career driving a car with no connection to the Silver Arrows.

Image credits, in order:

Lewis Hamilton in the Mercedes Garage (Photographer unknown, 2023) / Lewis Hamilton takes his first pole position since 2021 (via Lewis Hamilton's Instagram, 2023) / Lewis Hamilton celebrates with the Mercedes team post-race (Photo by Dan Istitene, 2022) / Lewis Hamilton celebrates his 7th F1 title with the W-11 (Photo by Clive Mason, 2020) / Lewis Hamilton celebrates his 7th F1 title on the podium with Sebastian Vettel and Sergio Perez as confetti falls (Photo by Pool, 2020) / Lewis Hamilton and his father share a moment in the aftermath of the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. Fuck the FIA (Photographer unknown, 2021) / Lewis Hamilton doing donuts at the end of the season (Photo by Marco Renzi, date unknown) / Lewis Hamilton at the Silverstone Grand Prix (Unknown source) / Lewis Hamilton during a F1 press conference (Unknown source) / A young Lewis Hamilton accepts a junior racing trophy (via plus44world's Instagram, 2023) / A young Lewis Hamilton poses with his signature yellow helmet, inspired by his childhood racing hero, Ayrton Senna (via Lewis Hamilton's Facebook, 2018) / A young Lewis Hamilton racing remote-controlled cars (Unknown source) / Lewis Hamilton takes the podium for third place at the 2007 Australian Grand Prix, his first podium in F1 (Unknown source) / Lewis Hamilton celebrates his win at the 2013 Hungarian Grand Prix, his first win with the Mercedes works team (Photo by Mark Thompson, 2013) / Ferrari Trento sparkling wine is pictured on the podium at the 2023 Azerbaijan Grand Prix (Photo by Marco Renzi 2023)

#lewis you're an icon and a legend and i wish you nothing but the best. godspeed you funky little race car driver.#lewis hamilton #f1edit #mercedes #f1 #web weaving #i'll be honest this took me like two days and i'm still not fully satisfied with it but if i look at it any longer i'll go insane so.#if anyone knows where any of the missing photo credits are from please lmk and i will happily add them!!#HELP THE MASSIVE TYPO IN THE OG POST… lmao

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danwhobrowses · 4 months ago

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I'm not sure how much good this vent will do, I'm not even sure I want to post this vent after my last one, but I'm writing it just so it's out of my head and into words because it seems once again fandom has chosen to send vitriol Ashton Greymoore's way.

What for? They talked to a 'specter' of the primordial titan within them, through their connection to the earth, the natural flow of creation and destruction. They ask what will happen to the world, it responds that it'll endure, they ask what of the people, it responds that the strong will survive and the weak will be remade into something stronger, to which Ashton replies they think they understand. To fandom this means that Ashton is becoming a fascist, that they have a 'Make Exandria Great Again' attitude for wanting the Primordials back, that they need to be beaten up or 'get what's coming to them' in order to change their mind, and I can only sit here and stew and wonder if this hate is really well-founded? Ashton is among my favourite characters in C3, I get frustrated by them at times too but if I think about it a big percentage of my frustrations is more towards people disliking them than me disliking things they do, or Matt setting up scenarios that doesn't do them any favours towards the fandom that hates them. Some of these are knee-jerk reactions of course, but for others it does feel like they have it out for Ashton, and I don't wanna engage with that, which makes it quite lonely when most of the fandom hones in on it.

For the most part I can understand how the whole 'the weak will be remade' bit can be taken badly; it's definitely iffy, but every other plan we have is also very iffy. The Release Predathos option literally involves unleashing an entity that wants to genocide the gods, the Maintain Status Quo option ('option' the status quo imo is impossible, in my mind the Gods can stay but the dynamic will still have to change) maintains a relationship where the gods pick and choose who they feel deserves help, using their power to covet more power, strongarm and demand loyalty, and overall choose fellow gods over mortals when the chips are down and not owning up to it. We should also remember that entities can speak in riddles, 'remade into something stronger' doesn't necessarily mean death; it could mean to adapt and grow, to become strong enough to bear and overcome it as many of the PCs of Critical Role have done with their hardships and trauma. It's worth reminding that the sad truth is that people will die whatever outcome happens - the aim is always to lessen the amount but if the Gods leave it's a power vacuum, if we linger too long it's a Calamity, and if the Gods stay it's a holy war on a more wild and less organized scale - and that Ashton isn't saying they approve of such death, merely that they think they understand. The commune doesn't tell Ashton which way to go; it only tells them that the world will endure, there will be change and it will change people, trees will still grow, the wind will still blow, the waves will still flow along the coasts of the sea, and people will survive. I know the interpretation can differ from people thanks to Matt's patented vague or riddle-mounted choices in phrase, but I also think if it was the Wildmother who told Orym or some other follower that 'nature is a cycle, everything must adapt to change or else it'll die - this world will change, but it will also survive' nobody would be calling Orym a fascist, people would accept it because the Wildmother's domain is nature, and nature is not always kind.

While we're mentioning Orym - and because this is gonna come off as critical I must preface that I like and enjoy All of the Hells, that's not changed - I also gotta call it out here because it does very much feel like the people who hate Ashton hate them for the reasons they love Orym. Both are stubborn, they're diligent in their personal code, they care deeply for their friends and would give their whole being just to keep them safe, they believe in the Hells' power and greatness more than each member does and more than they believe in their own, but Ashton gets the hate mainly because these fans agree more with Orym on the god stuff. What confuses me though is how these same haters can despise Ashton for being consistent but love Braius, the literal Devil Worshipper who secretly is on board with the Chase Away plan only so he can help the Devil rule the world, the compulsive liar. Where's Braius' scrutiny? A world under Asmodeus will be a far worse 'survival of the fittest' scenario, why does Braius get a pass in all this stuff huh? Because he's funny? Seems people ignore the whole morality talk when they're discussing Braius' dedication to Exandrian Satan.

I find it irksome too that even the group seem to criticize Ashton reaching out to Primordials too - as if that wasn't what we wanted them and Fearne to do anyway. They don't dislike the gods simply because they're a 'great entity', it's because they're a great entity that holds power and doesn't use it equally or fairly; they pick and choose who to help, a lot of the time in Ashton's experience for their own self-service, but they won't prioritize mortals over another god no matter who cruel or heinous the god is being, and the following of these gods are so intertwined with politics that most religious motivation also ends up being political. Ashton has no connection to the gods, they reached out and got nothing, an Angel looked at them and made them feel like nothing, but they do have a connection to the Primordials; from the Earth Golem to the Titan Empress they're literally a vessel of, they experienced something significant in their connection to the Earth, so I don't like how that they're almost mocked for having it. In addition, Ashton's behaviour during this commune differs because of that connection, but also because the titans are a natural flow; they don't demand or test or politic or prejudice, and despite being a Great Entity in its own right it never made sure Ashton felt small for their own satisfaction, they asked a question and got an answer, it's the same reason Ashton has disdain for most political leaders but likes and respects Keyleth, Allura, Kima, Pike, and (eventually) Percy despite also being people in power. To call on Orym and the Wildmother as an example again; Orym's an Air Ashari, the Ashari are guardians of the Elemental Planes - made from the Primordials - not tied to a god, but nobody criticizes his connection to the Wildmother despite both not being a follower and his culture being more tethered to Primordials and their descendants. I'm not saying it's all correct for Ashton to want things to go back to how Primordials ruled, but we must remind ourselves also that we only know a story written by victors when it comes to the Schism - a story which could very easily have been altered and edited to make it feel more justified for the Primes and mortals to actively genocide all the Primordials, the native species and creators of this world, and desecrate their remains to make weapons, soul anchors, and cities - the specter didn't say 'fuck em, all mortals should die' after all, if they believe mortals would survive then they must be at the least tolerant of mortal existence. Why is it okay for god followers to say they wanna keep the world with the gods they have a connection to (and I'm not saying they aren't) but Ashton is out of line for wanting to have a world which has something active that they also have a connection to? It seems rather unfair to allow one side to have and the other to have not, picking and choosing because our audience's bias has spent more time with the gods, Ashton wanting something they can connect to doesn't feel all wrong either, the Eidolons still exist with faint worship hiding away so they're not smited by the gods, why can't faith exist so they're not in hiding? I sincerely doubt the Punk Rock that is Ashton is asking for the Primordials to fill the Gods' roles the same way the Gods have been running things either, they want to break the throne remember? There needs to be a balance in ideals and practice of course, and in an ideal world there could even be a more fluid and all-inclusive Exandria where gods and Eidolons live harmoniously with mortals without hierarchy and class systems, I think Ashton could happily live with something like that, they did say the world needs 'a little chaos' to call back to Matt hinting that the current world doesn't have enough.

Which leads us to those wishing violence upon Ashton - and I really don't like that. People who say 'hitting them over the head is the only language they understand' seem to misinterpret Ashton as if everyone around them have been on their hands and knees begging Ashton to reconsider and them ignoring valid points and pulling a Leroy Jenkins. In reality, nobody is actually talking to Ashton about it, a lot of the frustration with Bells Hells right now is that they aren't talking to each other, even about the end goal! Ashton has valid reasons for their thinking, so being violent isn't gonna change their mind; undermining, dehumanizing and trying to effectively bully anyone let alone someone with chronic pain and low self worth will never truly convince them to your way of thinking. All people understand the language of violence, but that language is not used justly, those who truly wish violence upon Ashton don't want it in hopes it'll force Ashton to change their mind, they want it for their own satisfaction of seeing them in pain; so they can further push them away from the rest of the group and go 'that guy's not one of us', make it so the people Ashton calls family after a lifetime of loneliness, confusion and abandonment - the people they promised they won't abandon, and have kept true on that promise even at their lowest - make them feel small and worthless, and force them into box where they can't be themselves, and I hate that people would want to treat them that way. Ashton IS capable of listening; they've stepped back and trusted the other Hells to do their own thing even when it's ridiculous like staging a play where they pretend to be Ludinus to trick Unseelie emissaries into thinking that he attacked them, they listened to the gods even when they didn't have to like they promised they would and despite it being very personal they held themselves back for the benefit of the group, and if the group talked to them calmly where they were all allowed to healthily discuss the pros and cons, the ideals and compromises, and the risk and reward of all plans that have been proposed then they would listen, and they would try - you don't need to slice bread with a broadsword.

Will Ashton 'get what's coming to them'? Maybe, but what is that exactly? We only assume to know the full vision of what Ashton wants to act on. All of Bells Hells are gonna face the consequences of the choice they make on Ruidus - when they finally make one that is - in and out of the world they live in, so won't that apply to everyone? So what for Ashton? do people want Fractures 2.0? Does everything Ashton wants in life have to blow up violently in their face? Family, Closure, their best friend's safety, why does 'what's coming to them' have to be something aggressive and harmful? People change through positive reinforcement and good experiences too! Caduceus Clay would remind you that it's love that makes people. Don't mistake this rant as me wanting Ashton to be exactly as they are now, I too want to see growth from Ashton and we ARE seeing it happen; I see it in small instances where they think twice about rash actions and try not to fly off the handle, when they sit just to listen or understand or to defuse tension, and that when they're going somewhere or doing something they let the group know in advance, those who think Ashton hasn't changed since ep. 1 aren't paying close attention, but that doesn't mean that they don't still have more ground to cover. I believe that Ashton grows the most through kindness; when they're treated like a person and not a blunt instrument or a nuisance, and I hope what's 'coming' for Ashton isn't rejection, bitterness, and isolation, but acceptance, empathy, and for someone - if you know me you'd know who I'd want it to be - to convince them that they are worthy of living, that they're special not because of their powers or blood or because they have died and been put back together again (honestly, it does irk me a little that both Keyleth and Imogen chose that for titles and to brag to the Matron, I know it isn't intended this way but sometimes it feels like saying 'your best defining quality is that you've died a lot') but because while they have every reason to hate everything they still chose to be kind to those who deserve kindness, they have a good heart and they mean well. Are they perfect? No! They're in their 20s very few people irl have their lives together at even twice that age, but I want them to have good things in their life; things that help them feel happy and safe and like they can still feel comfortable in their own skin without having to appear more 'palatable' for people who've already decided that they don't like them. I want them to know that they've always deserved to live and they still deserve it now, I want that not just for Ashton but for all the Hells, and hopefully they'll all live to have it.

And most of all I want the people who hate them to be wrong about Ashton Greymoore, and I want Taliesin to prove them wrong.

#critical role #cr3 #cr3 spoilers #c3 spoilers #c3e110 #cr spoilers #bells hells #ashton greymoore #taliesin jaffe #matthew mercer #yes this is my ass coming to the defense of Ashton again #not saying Matt hates Ashton but they don't half give them a short straw when they're seeking answers #Ashton and I are very different (*) but there are similarities I feel also very strongly about that I'm compelled to put my foot down on #(*I kinda expect they'd steal my wallet but then return it after seeing my donor card and tell me how to not make it so easy to steal)#this is not angrily targeting everyone - it's a culmination of things I've bit my tongue on that I disagree with #there will be people who don't like Ashton for valid and fair reasons a valid and fair amount - this is not against you #but the hate guys - the hate! It ruins my day seeing it let alone thinking about it #and 110 still had a lot of fun and interesting things going on in it that I'd rather focus on #I was not in a great mood already for having missed ANOTHER set of auroras last night #I've stared at this for half an hour in drafts between posting and deleting - if things get more bitter I'll definitely be deleting it #this is not put out to debate this is just pure shouting to the ether #and what I shout to the ether is that 'Ashton Greymoore deserves to feel loved'#it's out but it's not gone from my system it just won't boil over again for a bit - but I still don't like having these vents #I'd much rather rant about fun and good things that make me happy and are a comfort to me

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