#interpret their encounters that way

[thedanceronthestreets]

The fact that we're now officially no longer delusional for thinking trent might be in love with ted... i need to go lie down

[lucabyte]

Hmmm just gonna spit this headcanon out in text post form since A. I don't think I could exposit it well enough in image form and B. It's not actually textually/thematically substantiated and I don't like actually staking my stuff on just vibes alone*

But anyway. I'd say it's pretty evident that all the islanders forgot their names, right? King obviously. Because why the hell else would he do that, but also Siffrin No Middle Names No Last Name.

They're 'pretty sure' they've 'always' been 'Just Siffrin' 'as long as they can remember'. It's a pretty cruel twist of the knife to say that they don't even get to keep their birth name as a memento, which is why I'm saying as such.

My utterly unsubstantiated claim is I think it'd be cute to say that Sisyphus *is* the name Siffrin initially picked, assuming the myth of King Sisyphus is recontextualised as idk, just a play or something in the setting. But I like the idea of Siffrin going 'oh shit 🫵 he's just like me fr' at a tortured fictional character long before the irony kicks in.

As for how Sisyphus -> Siffrin. I think that chronic mumbler and emotional doormat Sif just did not correct people who misheard the name during their time travelling, and went through enough places with incompatible phonologies (pronounceable sounds in the language) without ever really writing it down that it just got kinda. Changed until it was unrecognisable, and Siffrin just went with it until the earlier pronunciations slipped out of their swiss-cheese brain. And they just kinda don't remember any of that.

Also, something something the horrid realisation that Siffrin also named themselves after a King. Just not as blatantly.

*(though I think there's something here about Siffrin, a guy from a belief system that seems to thoroughly disincentivise autonomy and self-motivated choice continuously having their hand forced to make changes/choices they don't want but have no choice but to... It's not solid enough to really back this up tbh, but it informs it.)

Anyway.

[thegroundhogdidit]

i still stand by my take that no immortal character should have a monosexuality but the one exception is louis de pointe du lac the only way that man is ever fucking a woman is if his man is also a woman

[anistarrose]

what I mean when I say I'm tired of people making found families into nuclear families:

among other things, it's kind of annoying when people act like the romantic couple are automatically the "most obvious" candidates to adopt a kid; or act like a pair of people in a romantic relationship can't happily co-parent a kid with people outside of that romance

what I don't mean when I say I'm tired of people making found families into nuclear families:

people using "siblings" or "parent and child" as a shorthand (or even non-shorthand) for characters' relationships sometimes

[wildmelon]

i don't understand the urge to write hate think pieces about video game characters/their writing on here like at all

[12pt-times-new-roman]

I missed the first hour of combat but — C3E62, let's go!

"We built this for you!" oh honey.

Bor'dor has the lucky feat.

"In the aura of this oddly dunamantic energy emanating from Ashton—" Is this the first time Matt has confirmed that Ashton's abilities are dunamantic in nature? I know it's been obvious from our standpoint for a while now, and it was implied to the party by Caleb's mention of dunamis, but is that the first time it's been acknowledged in-game?

As Laudna starts to get flashes of memories eventually leading to Delilah, her ribcage cracks open to release a hound of ill omen modeled after the Briarwoods' undead hounds.

The dome above the temple begins to glow as a voice echoes from above. "Leave or be judged." A winged celestial being — a Dawnborn Angel — descends, with a flaming sword in one hand, to the middle of the chamber.

As far as I can tell, this is a home-brew. The Judicator seems to be modeled on a planetar (same AC and similar abilities, though likely a lower CR), but the "dawnborn angel" resembles nothing I can find.

Prism refers to herself at the Matron of Ravens' daughter. Now, her calling the Matron "mother" makes sense given the goddess' titles and namelessness; but being a shadar-kai and a wizard who has a "complicated relationship" with the Matron while calling herself the Matron's daughter is definitely cause for concern.

Deni$e has 3-4 rogue levels.

"The Judicator does not back down, it does not feel fear." It's also an "entity trained to hunt those of arcane persuasions." All I can think of are cybermen from Doctor Who.

The summons get the HDYWTDT on the Judicator!

A mid-combat break?? Is this gonna be a C2E86 situation where the entire episode is combat?

An angel, a demon, and an earth elemental walk into a bar...

Orym climbs the demon's back and sits on its shoulders like he's mounting a horse, which it begrudgingly allows.

Ashton speaks to the now-uncontrolled earth elemental in primordial. "We gotta get these people out of your home. Can you get me up there?" With its reaction (read: because Matt is giving the party some leeway here), the elemental grabs Ashton and attempts to huck them up to the angel with a nat20 (what the FUCK is the count on this? this pendulum has got to swing in this half, yeah?), because "the spirits of the forest have taken over where the arcana has failed."

The barlgura grapples the angel and brings it to the ground.

THERE'S the Chop Suey joke, finally. "When angels deserve to dieeee...."

Deni$e has a barbarian rage ability called "spirit of the mountain"? I can't find any barbarian subclass with this ability, and it's not a dwarf thing, so is this a home-brew barbarian subclass?

Bor'dor gets his second HDYWTDT on the angel with a 5th level inflict wounds. He holds its head, kisses its forehead, and says, "enough."

A second Judicator, the one that was patrolling the city, approaches the temple, but turns around and leaves at the sight.

It's so interesting to think about the way this battle would be interpreted in different campaigns. In C1, this would've been a heroic tale of villagers rising up against their oppressors and succeeding; in C2, it would've had underlying tones of national, material, Exandrian politics rather than theological ones, but still would've had that tinge of objective victory; and in C3, it is inundated by theological rhetoric and the politics of the gods, and mired by uncertain, subjective success.

The Judicators' masks are not worn, they are fused to the skull. (Again. Cybermen.)

Eventually, Abadeena's magic, alongside the spirits of the forest and the magic of the villagers, reduces the temple to rubble.

Orym is reconciling, trying to bring together conflicting goals, and Laudna clocks it with a pissed-off expression.

One by one, the remaining "captives" begin to follow the first into the forest, exiting the township and heading to the north, except for a single child. "I'm... I just wanted to feel like I belonged to something, you know, I—" And Abandeena responds, "Do you understand why this was wrong?" With that, they feel the final weight lifted, the hillside and village finally free.

Laudna approaches Abadeena. "Be careful not to become what you despise." She looks back with a genuine honesty. "Sometimes, you must do things you wish weren't yours to do for the betterment of your people. I'm not proud of everything I've done, but don't think your words are lost on me." "There's a thin line between being a savior and an oppressor." "Well. Thank you for being our saviors... we hear, of the Loam and the Leaf, thank you. For your deeds, whatever we can do, you have it." She casts some healing, and allows the Bells Hells to sleep in her house for the night because she can't cast scrying today.

Ashton asks for a private word with themself, Abadeena, and Prism. Nothing comes of it yet, as the village begins to gather toward the city center. They cook, swap stories, and sing.

For the first time in a long time, the village is free to give their thanks to the eidolons and to each other.

Bor'dor can't stop thinking of the face of the angel as they died, and he doesn't know whether he did the right thing. "Something is happening, and faith is shaken."

Prism is trying to view all of this with a skeptical, academic, objective mind, but she can't help but second-guess her subjective experience because everyone's happy and everyone's sad. She feels that this was a net good, but feels that compromises her objectivity.

Ashton believes that, leaving everything out of view out of consideration, this was a net good. They go with Prism and Abadeena behind a tree. ("It's time to get sexy now! It's our turn!" Talisein please)

There were tithes taken from the townsfolk. The temple was wealthy enough; these were not taken by the arbiters of the temple, according to Abadeena. She drags it to the city center, and Prolef begins to redistribute the wealth taken by the temple back to the townspeople.

While that exchange was happening, Orym finds Laudna. She remarks that the townspeople are ignorant of the greater evils in the world. They both agree that this ship is sinking, but this town doesn't know that; they agree that they are frustrated at their ignorance, their bliss, and lament that they have to get back to their people.

Laudna and Orym are so angry, but they can't articulate why — it feels to them like they just put themselves in great danger, when there's so much more at stake than there is in "this piss-ant town dealing with their piss-ant squabbles... I don't know why I'm so angry about it." "You've known more than your fair share of shit... I don't even think... I'm having trouble believing there's anything we can do. I just keep stepping forward because it's what I've always gone, but I don't know if there's anything we can do." "Ashton said something quite profound to me the other night, when were taking out watch around the campfire. Profound especially for them. Right now, if we try to change the world, it's just going to seem like an impossible task, it's just too much. But we can try and change that which we do have control over, our immediate surroundings. Save our friends." "I don't know how much time we have left on this planet — feels like it could all go soon, in a week. But I just wanna make do with the time that I have with the people that I care about, and I want to find them, I want to find them again." "Then let's find them. It's the only directive we have at the moment, the only thing we can control." Orym takes her hand. "I don't understand why you bounced down through history to be here with me right now, but I sure as hells am glad you are here." "I've seen a lot of shit, Orym. That's why we're still here." "And more coming." "We've shown we can take it. Let's just get the fuck out of this town."

Abadeena escorts them back to her cottage. She smiles, and reveals her first name: Joan. Whether the Bells Hells decide to kill her or trust her, she thanks them for trusting the village, agrees to help them on the path toward home, and offers them answers.

If the temple comes back, she does not believe this town is the only one rising up. They have a coalition binding together townships of the Loam and the Leaf, keeping them away from the influence of Vasselheim.

Prism asks if she's ever heard of Predathos or speculated on its nature, asks if Predathos is an elemental weapon against the divine during the Founding. Abadeena knows nothing about Predathos except for Ludinus' speech and the Bells Hells' knowledge, but she does recognize the confidence with which Ludinus spoke and the way his words influenced the people of her town. To them, the eidolons have a symbiotic relationship, as it has been for all those who lived on Exandria before the gods coopted it.

"The lands of Exandria hold to them innumerable eidolons that are tied to the forces of this world, of the titans that first shaped it. With the titans long-gone, they persist however they can, oftentimes among the rules of the gods who now rein. So they are echoes, shades, the remnants and the memory of the titans, of the great elemental queens and kinds of this world, the ones who originally sculpted it." Prism questions whether Predathos is more intelligent, more vengeant, than a simple "black hole."

Orym says to Prism that they don't know anything, and Prism retorts that she's trying to help by way of being really good at learning things. The only thing Orym has to go on is the track record of the people trying to release Predathos, which Prism agrees is "damning."

"Prism... I don't understand the gods, I don't know anything about the titans, I don't know eidolon from eyeliner. I believe that... I'm a widower because of the people who want to bring this about. So it's hard for me to wrangle with the other side." finally

Ah. So this encounter was not designed to pit the Bells Hells against the gods or against the titans, but it was designed to force them to reckon with the fact that they know nothing, nothing about what's happening around them, and further to force them to seek out information about the things they don't know.

AH. Abadeena does not wish to destroy the gods, but to return to a state of Exandria in which the gods and the Primordials lived in balance. Mortal races are an invasive species just as much as the gods are, but there was a point in history where they, the primordials, the eidolons, and the gods existed in conjunction with one another.

She also notes that the primordials, the eidolons, do not feel a threat from Predathos ��� and that the Matron of Ravens offers no warnings of Predathos, no insight, if she saw it coming at all.

Ashton and Laudna: Ashton doesn't think that the Hishari have anything to do with anything — that is something that they'll be asking of the Bells Hells "once everything quiets down." They are so angry right now, and Laudna notes that she and Orym feel the same. Ashton's worst nightmare was their very first divine intervention. "The gods saw me, a god saw me, I was not invisible. It was not hungry, it wasn't fearful, it wasn't — it was a messenger, it was sent, and it told me what I really didn't want to hear: that it doesn't fucking care, that I might as well be fucking gone, that I was a mistake."

Bor'dor goes out to look for Orym, but rolled a 4, so Orym — from his perch on a high tree — takes pity on him and (after Liam asks whether Bor'dor is a half-elf or not) reveals himself.

With a 19, Bor'dor impressively climbs the tree and joins Orym.

"Do you believe in god?" "I mean, it's beyond question. The gods have shaped the history of this world, they have dropped miracles from their seats on high and caused irreparable damage — and unmistakable good. I don't know that I care — I care about you and me, and I care about my family across the ocean." "My life is vert small. I wake up, I work, I go to sleep. My beliefs have been black and white. These people told just o go into a church and fight something that I can't fathom, and int he moment, where I felt victory, I didn't see a divinity or radiance or whatever the fuck you call it, I just felt sadness and compassion. Did you see the way it looked? There — why did we have to do that? Why is that what happened? And then I wonder, also, why — that woman, Abadeena, has no fucking clue what you people are talking about." [...] "I know, I think, barely more than you do, that people who are so determined to bust something out of our moon that it's worth killing a lot of people to get there. Do I believe in the gods? Yes. Have they had a ton of bearing in my life? No." "So you get to Ludinus, and then what? We just killed an angel, we saved a woman who has no clue about the fight that she's fighting. This village has no clue, they're fucked either way — what are we doing here? My life is very small. What are we doing here?" "I think that, um... Ashton, Laudna and I have friends that we were with, got pulled away from, and I think we've got a one in 2000 chance of stopping more people I care about from getting killed." "Okay. Let's do that, then."

Bonding over shit jokes and laxatives. Ah, the quintessential Critical Role experience.

But still, Bor'dor extends a hand. "I go where you go."

I'm just saying, my "multiple tables running at the same canon time concurrently, exactly like the way Pathfinder Society specials run" theory gains all the more merit.

Laudna stays up with Prism reading through books, and Marisha manifests Beau through Laudna. (Someone write an essay about how each of these players manifests specific aspects of a character throughout each campaign. Tag me when you do, if you do it before me.)

In the books, there are tithing ledgers, as well as deals and plans between the temple and the Silvercall Mill about buying out portions of the neighborhood. These plans were awaiting approval from others in the network — discussions about finding land for temples of the Wildmother and other deities hat wasn't already controlled. It's a lot of discussion about calculated expansion by Vasselheim and Othanzia.

With an arcana check, Prism identifies the runes on the Judicator as having an original draconic base, an arcana script that is divine and protective in nature but in some cases near anti-magic. It didn't present itself in battle, but the Judicator has the ability to dispel existing magic — its old magic, possibly related to the anti-magic cone displayed by the Mage Hunter golems that Ludinus employed.

Also in these papers is a discussion of Vasselheim sending forces to leyline nexuses. Prism notes that the leylines are stationary except for certain celestial events, of which the apogee solstice is the largest — nexuses stay where they are placed until the next apogee solstice moves that nexus, resulting in people gravitating to that area for the time between now and the next apogee solstice. It's about resources.

Prism has been away from her home for a decade. She believes that these past few days are validation for those ten years spent at the Cobalt Soul (or elsewhere), and stifles a personal smile.

In the morning, they are met with the smell of breakfast prepared by Abadeena. She offers to create a scroll for Prism so that she can copy the spell into her spellbook. (Again, because she's an Order of Scribes wizard, Prism can copy spells much more quickly than the average wizard.)

Ashton approaches Abadeena about the magic in their head. "It seems to bend the world... I have dreams, sometimes they're inhuman, sometimes I'm other people but I'm not... you ever seen anything like this?" "Like this? I have not at all... however, if you are to continue to travel, maybe speak with the spirits. Maybe things that are older than all of us combined have better insight than this frail form." ooooooo something something the Luxon is older than the world and so it makes sense that they might be some kind of primordial force. it makes sense that they might be a primordial titan that existed "before the gods" because the primordials also did.

Finishing breakfast, they enter the scrying chamber, and Orym enters unannounced — having taken a point of exhaustion from a sleepless night.

Again, Chetney giving each of the Bells Hells material gifts is a fucking genius move by Travis, because they all have scrying targets now. Whether intentional or not, it's genius, and it really goes reflect the themes of this campaign.

They see snow. Snow, falling, across a mountain range. They see Deanna first, with a prominent symbol of the Dawnfather — then they see FRIDA, a rosegold bipedal robot — then, the familiar image of Chetney, trekking behind with excitement and distance — then Imogen and Fearne, following behind, as FCG wheels up alongside them, all trekking through the snow. Prism and Orym recognize the smoky sight of Kravarad, and recognize that they are not far from Uthodurn. They see Imogen grasp her cloak and look back, as if she's making eye contact with the basin, with the scrying censor — Laudna shouts her name, but the image dissipates.

Regardless, they recognize that the other half of Bells Hells is on another continent, on the other side of the world.

Orym asks if there's anyone nearby who can transport them, and Abadeena notes that "those in Vasselheim could, if you had their favor." Yet she does know someone, about 5 days travel's away from Hearthdale, who could transport them: Hevestro, hierophant of the Emerald Tree, a powerful archdruid whom Abadeena once trained under.

So Team Issylra has two options: go to Vasselheim, a longer journey but with more people who could help, or go to Hevestro and count on the good will of a single archdruid.

Abadeena can scry two more times, and Prism can scry once, making for a total of 3 more scries. (Ahh, now I see why this episode is 5 hours long.)

Scry 1: Dariax. He's chewing on his nails with a dirty, scarred face, with a look of concern, sitting in a dark space they can't quite make out. He plays absentmindedly with the compass around his neck, thinking. A blue hand catches his holder, he gives a nod and stands with his spear — Dorian, also looking a bit worse for wear. "That's the bag of dicks—" "That's our bag of dicks!"

Scry 2: Bor'dor's Home / Brother. "Don't take your clothes off!" (Orym: "C'mon, let it happen.") "There, you see a vision of a homestead, modest but well-furnished, not quite the home of a farmer or a person who keeps cattle or sheep. It's an unfamiliar space to you (Bor'dor). You're uncertain whether this dagger is calling a connection to a place of import or a particular answer to your question, unfortunately."

Abadeena copies the scrying spell onto a scroll, which Prism copies into her spellbook.

Now, the Bells Hells must decide between two things: going to Vasselheim and trying to convince them to help, or taking their chances with the dangerous journey through a canyon to Hevestro's homestead. Orym's gut says the latter.

Matt confirms that no one in the party would know anything about the waters between western Issylra and eastern Wildemount, and that it would take a number of weeks to traverse it by ship. For the record, based on Exandrian timezones, geology, and cosmology, there could be an ocean the size of the Pacific in that space.

They decide to go toward the gorge where Hevestro lives, and Abadeena grants them a wind-based, cougar-shaped eidolon that will escort them. "If you meet others of the Valley Coalition, tell them of what has been done here, and let them know that we are ready to help them as well."

[brittlebutch]

a lot of people seem to use Entry #61 as 'proof' for the crux of the "Brian didn't care about Tim, he was Taking Advantage of Tim's conditions and Forcing him to work as part of totheark" thing, but honestly when you think about it there's no possible way Brian could have possibly orchestrated that series of events, like you almost have to interpret that as a baffling group of coincidences

[moe-broey]

OKAY. I. FINALLY HAVE DONE IT. IT TOOK A LOT OF TESTING AND TROUBLE SHOOTING AND FIGURING OUT BUT I THINK I HAVE IT

My Askr and Co. team!!!!!!! Sometimes I switch one of them out for story stuff (full immersion lmfao), but!!! It's them it's the OGs 🥺🥺🥺

Alfonse is still pretty much the same, but since the Dragon Flower limit was increased, I feel he no longer needs Fury! Which, removing it does synergize better with Florid Cane anyway, beyond the Canto gimmick (having an Atk/Spd bonus if kept healthy).

Biggest thing I needed to figure out though was who I was giving the special skills to (from an extra Acsended Mareeta and Felix). I WAS tempted to give them to Alfonse (head empty he means everything to me) but I came to the conclusion that Ruptured Sky works too well on him. I even think it's fun from a storytelling standpoint, where he's consistent almost to a fault -- can result in him being reliable, or juuust missing the mark (he's still adaptable as well though!). PLUS! Both are speed based skills, and even With my speedy Alfonse build, AND even with all those Dragon Flowers, Sharena outspeeds him at lower investment.

So it did come down to trying to decide which would work best between Sharena and Anna.

Sharena absolutely needed to be completely revised, since I realized I accidentally doubled up on Null Follow Up on her weapon and B slot (and her C slot was a wimpy Threaten skill lmfao). Ultimately I felt Felix's kit synergized better with Alfred's Arcane I gave to her -- espp Bulwark keeping her healthy! In this way I think I accidentally made her a tank. Especially with all the stat bonuses coming together, on top of a damage reduction special. Really my ONLY bit of grief here is she no longer has her special attack voicelines........... I'm SO sad about that 💔💔💔 (HOWEVER. IT. IS REALLY FUNNY.)

She's just standing there..... Menacingly........... (quite literally with the Menace skill too from the Summer Dimitri manual that's up for grabs. I'm not so sure if it Suits Her storytelling-wise but tbh it's funny. GO GIRL START KILLING‼️‼️‼️)

As for Anna! I actually haven't touched Anna's build in years, she's not a unit I ever use outside of the once a month free orb and sometimes for story... last I left her was with Life or Death 3, Vantage, and a Spur skill. I wanted to keep in line with this initial build though... bc I feel like it suits her.

Outside of this one time (very early on, before I really put a lot of thought into things) I Never use Life or Death (I'm too cautious HAHAH) so I was comfortable giving her a Life or Death 4 I had laying around. BEYOND THAT. IT WAS. SUCH A NIGHTMARE. To figure out What the rest of her kit should be. A Lot of trial and error, testing, troubleshooting, everything. Because the BIGGEST THING is I wanted to keep Nóatún on her. She gets INSANE movement from it, and I felt like if I could Just Get This Right, I could pull off something as gimmicky as my Hit and Run Canto Alfonse. You have to trade SO much power for that movement, and she's already made of glass and paper the way I'm building her (but I am SO committed to this idea bc it's EXACTLY how I conceptualize her character in my mind -- strong starter, hard hitter, high movement = speedy and lots of experience on the battle field!! And SOMETHING in her C and Seal slots to communicate teamwork and commanding.)

EVENTUALLY. WHAT I THINK WORKS. Spurn helps her Not Die As Much/As Quickly (thank you damage reduction), and I think the balance between Oath/Solo skills gets the idea across.

BUT ALSO. THIS. THE MOST FUCKED UP THING I DESPERATELY WANTED TO SHOW OFF IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!!!!!!

LOOK at this. LOOK at how STUPID this is. How by giving Alfonse Odd Tempest HE IS. SO POWERFUL. HE MAKES A KILLER OPENING (EXACTLY AS HE ALWAYS SAYS HE WILL‼️‼️‼️). Reposition into Canto into look at him fucking go. He's fucking gone. Halfway across the battlefield. AND ANNA HAS FANTASTIC SYNERGY WITH THIS!!!!! Being able to get That One Extra Space thanks to Nóatún!!!!!!!! (Unfortunately this was a terrible matchup and she died instantly, but this is more for demonstration purposes 🫡)

I am a little sad that Sharena gets left on the back lines when this works out but. I think she's still doing her part. Esp since I'm testing out Ardent Sacrifice on her, where I typically exclusively only use Reposition and always have a healer. On top of eating hits, she also covers for her allies as well! Making sure they're okay :)

Finally! Takumi! I. Have no idea how he fits in here tbh I don't even know how Pathfinder works. But I love him so much so dearly and he's here because he's a highly respected veteran member of the Order of Heroes. Also everyone say thank you Alcryst for fucking finally giving him a usable weapon and decent skills (I have gone through SO MANY ideations of base Takumi builds and they have NEVER been on the level of stronger units he was ALWAYS WOEFULLY OUTCLASSED. Which is DEVASTATING bc I really like using base forms sometimes!!!!). I'm SO happy he's finally on par w stronger units now!!!! OH. AND. THE MAJOR THING ABOUT HIM ACTUALLY. Is once he gets the ball rolling he is procing Deadeye every fucking turn. Just like in Fates... 🥺🥺🥺 (killing and maiming and violence complete with a cheeky attitude and bravado!)

[akkivee]

so i heard the stage did a retelling of every division’s get together story!!!! i wonder if you would consider that a reboot of the stage lol

[poptartmochi]

lorde help... i am inventing a new greek god

[naggingatlas]

you dont think its possible to feel like youre having a heart attack from a deltarune animation set to living fucking tombstone wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong

[orangerosebush]

The Discourse // Honoré Daumier, Who says that the Parisians are hard to please...! // Mark Fisher, “Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative?”

[ochibrochi]

spontaneous magic manifestation was NOT mentioned in the parenting handbook 😬

I know this isn’t how magic in dc works, but the fact that Damian’s ancestry includes some pretty powerful magic users is… INTERESTING 🤔? Drabble under the cut!

I wanna preface that I'M NOT SAYIN' that Damian should/does have magic powers, but there’s still so much unexplored potential with Damian's character, and the thought that he has a dormant adeptness in magic is somewhat compelling to me. Most importantly it would FREAK! BRUCE! OUT!!!!! What is this, magic puberty 😭??

By DC laws, anyone has the ability to learn magic, but it is also possible to be an innate ability. The Al Ghuls are no strangers to the occult-- Ra's has had increasingly been portrayed as a magic user, and the recent establishment of his mother being a sorceress/witch?? Even Talia dabbled in a bit of magic, I think. There is a catch that their power is suggested to be due to Lazarus exposure, but for arguments sake let's say the Al Ghul lineage is inherently proficient in magic (and Lazarus exposure simply enhances it).

I can't recall "magic" being a part of Damian's training/upbringing (I'm still slowly catching-up on Damian comics so apologies if I miss any canon examples of magic use). Not sure why Talia wouldn't want her little "heir to an ancient assassin empire baby" to learn magic, but it would at least give reason to Damian not knowing about his magic potential, or lack of interest in it.

Through the power of pseudo storytelling, what if Damian's encounter with Mother Soul could have triggered a manifestation of magic that was once dormant; like a pressure cooker waiting to explode with energy when it hasn't been given a safe outlet.

I've yet to read a satisfying arc where Damian truly gets to contemplate his Al Ghul roots outside of "dad is good guy, mum is bad guy". Damian's initial character growth stems from him running away from, and renouncing his association with the League (i.e. "I'm nothing like you, mother and grandfather!").

The most recent thing I've read was Robin (2021), and whilst Damian is much more cordial with his mother, there's still an emotional distance and sense of distrust/resentment (for good reason, even if the context was some cartoonishly evil writing). But there is a silver-lining that they still appear to be fond of each other, in a melancholy kind of way.

Realizing he's "genetically" primed for magic would be especially confronting to Damian. There's no denying his Al Ghul blood, forcing him to confront a facet of himself he can no longer ignore or reject. A family that he likely has to approach for help/guidance.

Damian is put in a position of acknowledging this power could be used for good, to be stronger, to fight crime, balancing it with the implication that what he possesses could be rooted in dark magic (Lazarus enchantment).

If he decides to embrace it, would that be too much of an endorsement of the Al Ghul's dark occultism? Can he separate the two ideas? What if he can't control it? What if he accidentally hurts someone? What if has the ability to save someone where his other skills fall short?

Ideally, I'd love for this hypothetical story to lead into Damian exploring his Al Ghul heritage more intimately, historically, and spiritually (à la RSoB: Year of Redemption adventures). Another little coming-of-age self discovery journey.

I have my own little personal thoughts on what Damian decides to do with his magic powers, but I'd like to leave that open to interpretation... By the end of it I hope that he will at least find some forgiveness over resentment, and a balance between accepting that side of his family a little easier. It is finally a sense of inner peace :)

Any thoughts? Did I get any characterisation wrong? Let's talk over on my DC blog @arkhamochi! I'm currently trying to read all Damian-centric comics until I catch up with the current run. I'm hungry for discussion and analysis!!!!!!

[homunculus-argument]

One worldbuilding thing that's always fun to do is take something you've encountered in the real world, and apply something similar with the same logic into your own. Like those sayings that have two halves, but people usually only know the first half and misunderstand the saying - like "birds of a feather flock together (until the cat comes)" or "great minds think alike (but fools rarely differ)." So I came up with a few for The Book I'm Not Writing:

Hungry dogs are loyal dogs (until someone else feeds them) - neglecting and mistreating your underlings may work as a short-term tactic for making them obey, but it's also a guarantees that they'll betray you at first chance.

The mouth of an idiot is as loose as the strings of their purse (so be there when gold may drop out) - just because nine out of ten things that someone says are completely useless doesn't mean you should dismiss them altogether. They might still know useful things, even if they can't tell it's useful.

Blood makes a foul dye (it stains, but it won't last) - here "foul" is often interpreted as "brutal" or "gruesome", when it's meant as "of low quality". Using violence as your way to establish dominance and maintain authority because it's easier than building networks of mutual trust and respect is as stupid and short-sighted as using blood to dye clothes because it's cheaper than proper pigment.

A fool will starve to death while waiting for grain to grow (but it is also a fool who'll slaughter an ewe an hour before it lambs) - Immediate problems require immediate solutions, but you'd better make sure that your drastic emergency solution is the right one.

A blind horse will go as you guide where a half-blind one dare not (both through the darkness and down a cliff) - an agent who doesn't know the purpose of their task will obey blindly, where one that knows some part of it might disobey out of distrust, but neither is as reliable as one that does see the big picture, can draw their own conclusions from the information they gather, and adjust their plans accordingly.

[dunmeshistash]

How do you feel about Milsiril? Like what do you think of her interactions between the canaries, her goals, her intentions and morality? I keep seeing people with mixed feelings about her, some saying she's just toxic or morally grey or doing bad but with good intentions or that she's just a mentally ill and literally so much more, also with the comic about Otta calling Milsiril love for her children/Kabru as just love for a pet, I always saw people take it at face value and say yes, Milsiril did love them more as pets instead of children, did she take up raising/adopting non-elf children because she felt like none of them could ridicule her like the elves did because they didn't know what an elf was supposed to be like (and also because they were children) or did she inherently view them as less? I mean the canaries and I'm pretty sure almost all of the cast in dungeon meshi have some sort perspective on different races especially because how they were taught about them, i just think it was interesting to finally see someone interpret it as Otta just misinterpreting Milsiril, I'm just really interested in her, i think shes neat, sorry for the rant!

Ooh, well to preface this, I hadn't really realized Milsiril was such a controversial character before my last post, I kinda live under a rock. She's really not a character I had given much thought besides what I wrote there before it, but I can do my best to express what I have thought since, with sources for it. I'm not sure what order to go thru so I'll just go by manga appearances and then extras, this will probably be quite a long post

This is the first time she shows up in the manga (ch55) Kabru is wondering about what future they might have if the elves take them into custody because of the ancient magic, he thinks about Milsiril as a get out of jail card, and mentions "There's a chance they would make us become permanent resident of the elven lands." with the image of Milsiril holding him. I don't think that means she would be the one to not let them leave, since this would probably be an legal issue, and the fact Milsiril lives away from other Elves. It does set up that Milsiril is quite overprotective tho, with Kabru's reaction to her teary hug. (rest is under a cut)

The next time she shows up is in ch61 right after Kabru falls down the dungeon along with Mithrun, he faints and has this flashback

She's being her overbearing self treating Kabru's small injury as if its something you need to be in bed for, hand feeding him like he's a toddler, and when he insists he wants to learn how to fight and be strong like her, she hugs him revealing to us for the first time her arm scars, she's cleary in distress too, so you wonder "what has happened to her?"

It continues in the next pages, as she tells him to stay there, where it's safe and there's cake, and describes the bad things he might encounter. Until he tells her he will go with or without her help

Honestly this is a Kabru we don't see often, this is the version of him that is usually in thought bubbles, he's blowing out in frustation over being smothered and demanding straight up what he wants, instead of trying to manipulate Milsiril, very blunt for him. Milsiril seems to flip a switch into battle mode, when she decides to train him for real.

I really thought this was funny, the visual of these cuddly toys and this Mom that was being so soft just a second ago completely flipping into something menacing is very amusing to me. She says "I'll give you an exhaustive, thorough training in how to use a sword... until you finally decide that you're ready to give up." although it sounds cruel, it seems she really trained him as best she could to make sure he would survive the dungeon. If he couldn't take the training with her there was no way he would be able to take on the dungeon, but he could, so much so that he managed to make her let him go. I can see this being seen as her trying to prevent him from going but to me it seems more like some tough love from a traumatized war veteran in this case.

The last thoughts he has is admitting his Mom was right, "Not only were there plenty of traps, monsters, and malice... but there were times when I felt so hungry and cold that I couldn't stand it."

And he concludes with "I never once thought that I wanted to go back there. That room where I could eat all the cake that I wanted..." While I can understand the interpretation that he means he would rather go thru all this than go back, perhaps cause he hated it there, I think it's rather a statement to how committed he is to defeating the dungeon, the visuals show him in rubble vs him in a soft big bed, the rough reality he fought to be able to face and the comfyness of what his life could be. Plus is mirroring exactly what Milsiril said to him. Admitting she was right about the bad things but that he won't give up for the safe easy life he had.

After that visuals of Milsiril are used while Kabru tries to sus out Mithrun but she shows up again in Mithrun's backstory.

Here she's straight up called Gloomy, which wasn't really the version of her we saw so far, gotta remember this is also how Mithrun saw her and that she was called gloomy as a way of bullying. Kabru mostly cuts off her part in the story until the end, when she's the one to find Mithrun after he was eaten by the demon

She doesn't really care much for Mithrun as we see in some extras, and she was ready to mercy kill him, but she is also the one to spare his life. This could be seen as her thinking he can still be of use, and it's how it sounds with how Kabru tells the story, but I do think this was also a merciful act, Mithrun was in rehabilitation for 20 years after being saved, by the time he was actually useful for anything Milsiril had already left the canaries and adopted Kabru.

Now for extras... About Mithrun/The Canaries, Milsiril was cleary someone that hated the people around her. This is her extra in the Adventurer's Bible

Milsiril seems to be the type that hates "popular kids" so to say, her description says she was bullied by other elves for being so introverted so I believe she holds a grudge against people like Mithrun that seem to have succeeded where she failed. But realizing he was a twisted person like her seemed to make her feel more sympathetic towards him, that's why I think she really did act with mercy when she saves Mithrun, he's now someone she sees as similar to her, she sees he also suffered like her

Her decription also mentions she left the canaries specifically because she was disgusted with how the Utaya situation was dealt with. Yet it seems like she came back to help Mithrun with his rehabilitation once she quits.

There's an interpretation to be made that she did this only to get "revenge" on the demon since she just saw the destruction of Utaya, and that she's using him. On the other hand maybe she wants to help him find a motivation to live, she's no longer a canary and she has time to actually help him now. I don't know which one is the truth but it's not obviously something self-serving if you ask me. Especially in the context that right before this scene Milsiril admits she wishes they could have talked before.

My interpretation of her relationship with the canaries and other elves is that she's someone depressed that was mistreat for her 'quirky' side, the dolls are clearly one of the ways she used to cope with anxiety/depression but it only caused her to be bullied by her own kin, she's the daughter of an important family and it's shown in other extras, including one about Mithrun, that nobles often send out the kids they don't want around to become canaries. It's an easy way to get rid of someone undesirable and I think it was the case for Milsiril. (Pattadol even assumes her parents love her less than her sisters for sending her to join the canaries).

No wonder than that now that she's finally free from the canaries she chose to seek her own happiness away from the society she felt she could never fit into, she clearly likes to take care of children too, I think it's mean to assume she only likes them because she feels superior to them when there's no indication that this is the case.

And I don't think it's a coincidence she's so overprotective of Kabru after Utaya, it's literally the tragedy that was the breaking point for her, and he's a surviving small child from that tragedy, Milsiril cares about Kabru and wanted him to have a comfortable safe life after everything he went thru...

This ended up getting way too long so I'll make second part tomorrow about the rest of the extras and Kabru, and some other things I've seen said about Milsiril, but to answer the questions...

I don't think she treats her children as pets, Otta is just salty she was called out for dating like Leo Dicaprio.

Every single dungeon meshi character can be called morally grey because they all have flaws that in our world can be considered unforgivable, but they don't live in our world. To me Milsiril is doing her best in the context she lives in.

Who even is neurotypical in dungeon meshi, Milsiril is yet another flavour of a neurodivergent traumatized character among so many.

I believe she thought of the other canaries, especially Mithrun, as the same type of people that were cruel to her, probably because some of them really were, but that she generalized it to the point she thinks of all of them as bad by default. You can only get hurt so many times before you assume everyone will hurt you.

Part 2

[foxy-eva]

Damaged Goods

Summary: The belief that they were both undeserving of love led Spencer and Reader into each other's arms. If they can’t find love, they can at least soothe their need for physical affection, right?

“You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.” - Anita Ofokansi

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Smut, Angst with a hopeful ending

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) negative self-talk and self-deprecation (both Reader and Spencer, also in the context of sex!), implied past trauma (nothing explicit), some dark/cynical humor, loneliness, crying (also during sex), showering together, oral (fem receiving), unprotected penetrative sex

Author’s Note: I hope you guys are ready for some smangst! This is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Friends with Benefits challenge! 

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

It was as if Spencer had expected you when he opened his door, a sympathetic smile spread over his face and the first buttons of his shirt already undone. As if he had known that you weren’t planning on wasting any time to get him undressed once you stepped inside his apartment. 

“He stood you up, huh?” Spencer concluded after reading your expression. 

A defeated sigh escaped your lips. “I don't even know why I still try with those stupid dating apps.”

“Probably because you don't want to end up old and alone like me,” he chuckled, his tone laced with cynicism. 

“You're not old,” you countered as you stepped closer to him. “And right now you’re not alone either.”

“Technically correct.”

You came to a halt not even an arm’s length away from him. His sight wandered over your face, obviously trying to interpret your current state of mind. It was rare that Spencer made the first step in your encounters. It was important to him to make sure you were the one in control. 

“I need you, Spencer,” you finally confessed. 

There was a certain desperation audible in your voice but it was nothing Spencer hadn’t heard before. He stepped towards you to close the distance between your bodies. 

“Come here,” he whispered as he placed his hands on your waist. 

What Spencer had to offer was the next best thing to love you could get. So you didn’t hesitate to give into the temptation of feeling his body pressed against yours for the umpteenth time in those past few weeks. 

Unlike the men before him, Spencer was not scared to get close to you even after telling him the secrets from your past. He didn't budge when you tried to push him away, well aware of the darkness he’d face once he stepped closer. He wasn’t afraid that you could suck him into the void that captured the place in your chest where your heart once was. 

What he saw when he looked into the abyss that was your soul felt familiar, almost comforting. It reminded him of the demons that possessed his own soul. It broke his heart to see you hurting. However, as morbid as it was, it also made him feel less lonely in his own suffering. 

One particularly lonely night a few weeks ago led you into his arms for the first time – and subsequently into his bed – to at least soothe the yearning for physical affection.

There was no romantic attraction to be found between the two of you. You came to an agreement that you were both too marred to even speak of romance hypothetically. Too large was the risk of  potential self-destruction that could follow a union of two such damaged hearts. 

This was a purely physical thing – a way to pretend that your love lives weren’t completely doomed. Sleeping with Spencer was like committing to a symbiosis, a mutual agreement to use the other’s body to appease this pain that wouldn’t go away. 

You reminded yourself of that when his lips made contact with yours that night. He kissed you like a starving man, never quite able to satiate the burning hunger of his soul. What you had to offer was good enough for now, though. 

As he walked you into his bedroom, it almost felt like following a routine the two of you had adopted. Just a few skilled movements were enough to stand completely bare in front of each other, greedy hands groping whatever flesh was in reach. 

When you finally lay down on the mattress, Spencer’s lips chased every curve and dip of your body, almost as if he was determined to find the secret remedy to finally end your suffering. 

Only there was none. 

The inner turmoil never went away but during those hours you were able to tune it out. It was nothing but a distant memory once Spencer laid down between your legs. He collected your honeyed wetness on his tongue until you were squirming underneath him, desperate to find relief. 

“Not yet,” he breathed as he sat up between your legs. 

He leaned over you, sharing your own taste with you as he kissed you again. At the same moment his tongue entered your mouth, you could feel his hardness pressing into your entrance. There was no need to be reluctant, no moment of questioning if what you were doing would taint the other one. His mouth left your lips to bite into your neck instead, unafraid that his venom could ever hurt you. 

Everything I touch starts rotting, Spencer once chuckled when you tried to save one of his house plants. Cynical as ever, he had said it with a grin on his face but you knew that there was more meaning behind his words than he would ever admit.

It was different with you, though. The damage had already been done by the hands of other people. There was no innocence that could have been defiled. There was nothing Spencer could do to wound you worse than them, no matter how little he thought of himself. 

Maybe that was the real reason it was so easy for him to lose himself inside your embrace. You could see it in his eyes as he entered you. He was allowed to be himself with you, to feel lust and affection despite his hardship, despite the lack of true love. 

Those sensations were a mutual experience, too. With Spencer you were never worried about being rejected. Together you had created your own safe space, a bright pink bubble within the darkness where you could truly be yourselves with one another. 

In perfect unity you began moving with each other, each thrust of hips answered by your body grinding against him. Together you chased the feeling of sweet release, the moment of pure bliss. 

“Fuck,” Spencer muttered against your lips, announcing that it wouldn’t be much longer now. 

You slowed down your movements, desperately trying to prolong this moment, to indulge some more in this short reprieve of the mess that was your life. 

“Please, hold on,” you begged him as you felt tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. 

Suddenly and without a warning Spencer stopped moving to kiss away the tears from your cheeks instead. He tasted the saline on your skin and imagined that it had been kissed by the ocean instead of the cruel reality.

“Are you okay?” He cooed when he found your eyes.

“No,” you breathed. “But when am I ever?” 

“Do you want to stop?” He offered, obviously concerned with you. 

You shook your head as you pushed against his shoulders to urge him to lie down beside you. Climbing into his lap, you found your place on top of him while Spencer’s hands grabbed your hips. 

“Is that okay?” You wanted to make sure before continuing. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “You know very well that I need this just as much as you do.” 

With your hand wrapped around his length you guided him into your body once more. Spencer threw his head back into the pillow as you started moving at a slow, almost torturous pace. Not much time passed until the both of you danced along the edge of euphoria again. 

It only took a few skilled motions until you finally fell over the edge, taking Spencer right with you. The high subsided a lot quicker than you would have liked and with that the bright pink bubble you had created burst again.

Spencer held you for the rest of the night, even after the both of you had long fallen asleep. Only when morning came did he dare to let go of your body as he got out of bed. When you heard him turn on the shower, your entire body began tingling as the longing to bask in the warmth his skin radiated became overwhelming. 

With quiet steps you approached the bathroom and opened the door. 

“Do you need something?” You heard Spencer’s voice from behind the shower curtain. 

You stepped closer to the shower before asking, “Can I join you?” 

“Of course.” He pulled back the curtain to let you step in, offering a hand so you wouldn’t slip. 

It was only a little awkward to stand in front of Spencer completely naked in bright daylight. He didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms, sharing both the warm water and the heat his body provided with you. You weren’t sure what it was exactly that you were looking for when you joined him in his morning shower, but it was nice to just be close to him. 

You stepped back to find his eyes and he noticed your ambivalence. Before he had a chance to ask, you giggled, “I’m trying to decide whether I want to get clean or dirty.”

Spencer joined you with his own laughter. “Well,” he chuckled as he grabbed the shampoo bottle, “let’s start by getting you clean.” 

He began shampooing your hair as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. This act of innocent affection shocked your entire system. Suddenly you were unable to form a coherent sentence, the only thing that mattered in that moment was the sensation of Spencer running his fingertips over your scalp. A part of you wanted to fight this experience of being taken care of but a much bigger, much more desperate part simply indulged in the sensation. 

When you couldn’t get much cleaner, you reciprocated this pure act. Spencer didn’t resist, instead his body became pliable under your touch as you helped him wash his hair and skin. It almost felt like a sacred act to rid him of the remaining soap. Your sight followed the bubbles as they ran down his legs and disappeared in the drain. 

You couldn’t quite explain it but somehow this shower felt more intimate than any sexual act you had shared in the past. It wasn’t your intention but it felt like something between the two of you had shifted as you stepped out of the bathroom and got dressed. 

It felt like the safest option to lighten the mood with your usual playful banter. 

“My therapist said something stupid the other day,” you finally broke the silence. 

“Did she say that you should stop sleeping with me? Because then I might need to have a serious conversation with her,” Spencer joked. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Dr. Reid. I never mention you in therapy,” you lied. 

He saw right through you but let it go anyway. “Right,” he said instead. 

Spencer walked right behind you as you made your way over to his kitchen to make some coffee. 

“She said that I need to start learning to love myself before someone else can fall in love with me.” The coffee maker made a hissing noise right as the last word left your lips. 

“Yikes,” Spencer deadpanned. “Good luck with that.”

“I know, right? I’ll probably end up old and alone like you,” you snickered.  

Spencer laughed at your words. “I was talking about the coffee maker but I deserved that.” 

The ringing of your phone distracted you from your mission to make coffee. When you got it out of your purse, you saw a message from the guy who stood you up last night. 

“The guy from last night is asking for another date. Apparently he didn’t show up because of some work emergency,” you explained with your eyes still glued to the screen. 

Spencer huffed in response. “You're not seriously considering it?” 

“What choice do I have? It’s not like people are lining up to finally date me.”

He rolled his eyes as he poured some coffee in a mug. “He’s not the right person for you. You should say no,” was his final advice. 

“That's the thing with damaged goods though, isn’t it? People can sense that we are not worthy of their time, that they can do better. So we have no choice than to settle for something, or rather someone not quite perfect.”

Months ago you had come to an agreement to stop cheering each other up when it came to your love lives. There was a mutual understanding that telling the other one they would for sure get their happily-ever-after soon didn't help at all. It was sort of comforting to be able to talk about the unadorned truth with one another. 

“There's a difference between not quite perfect and absolute dipshit though,” Spencer retorted.

His choice of words made you laugh. It was rare that Spencer used crude language but he never minced matters when talking about your Tinder chronicles.  

He found your eyes and added, “You deserve better than that.”

Half jokingly, half seriously you asked, “Do I really?” 

A smirk formed on his face when he teased, “Well…” 

You playfully punched his arm and laughed, “Don't be a dick, Spencer! Now I’m going to go on this date out of spite!”

Spencer had seen the worst of you and he was aware that you’d probably fall back into old habits quickly, even if that guy was decent. That poor man didn't stand a chance to fight through all those walls you had so carefully built to protect your heart.

There was another, unspoken reason why the two of you had stopped cheering each other up so long ago. In the unlikely case that you would actually finally find your soulmate, what would that mean for Spencer? That he had been more broken than you all along?

It’s not that he didn't want you to find happiness. But the thought that he might be left behind was devastating. Ending up old and alone was only a tolerable thought if he could have you by his side. 

So Spencer did what he knew best and started pushing you away.

Several days passed without hearing a word from him. It wasn’t the first time this had happened and it was nothing you could hold against him – you had done the same thing before. It couldn't have been a coincidence that right when you were supposed to leave for your date, you found yourself standing in front of Spencer’s apartment door instead. 

Three firm knocks announced your presence. You heard some shuffling on the other side of the door but he didn't open. It was to be expected. You got his spare key out from your purse to enter his place uninvited. 

It was the couch where you found him, his arms wrapped around his knees, making him appear so much smaller than he really was. He was wearing an old Caltech shirt and sweatpants and his hair looked even more unruly than usual. The redness around his eyes revealed that he had been crying.

Instead of greeting you, he groaned, “I shouldn't have given you my key.”

“Well,” you shrugged as you sat down beside him. “Too late.”

“I mean it, you shouldn't be here.”

“Nice try,” you quipped. “You should know by now that you can't scare me off that easily.” 

The truth was that he didn't want you to leave, even when the words that left his mouth claimed the opposite. You had proven to him over and over again that no matter how many of his scars he let you see, you stayed.

Old habits die hard, though. So he still tried walking away, even if he wouldn't get far. You watched as he disappeared in the bedroom and threw the door shut behind him. The sound didn't even make you flinch. 

Slowly you counted to ten before you got up to follow him. He knew you better than that but he still had a surprised expression on his face when he saw you walking through his bedroom door. A part of him still believed that there would come a point where all this darkness became too overwhelming even for you. 

“I won’t leave,” you reminded him, a loving softness laced over your voice. 

You sat down beside him on the bed when he started crying again. To your surprise he didn’t wince when you reached for his hand. 

“Talk to me,” you finally offered.

“You don't understand,” Spencer whimpered. “I feel so alone.”

Right as the words left his lips, he looked up at you, tears still running down his cheeks. He looked at you and remembered that what he said was wrong. 

Because you did understand. 

And he knew that very well. 

That was when he remembered that it wasn’t his apartment you should be at right now. He took a deep breath before wiping away his tears. 

“You're gonna be late for your date,” he stated, his eyes glued to the floor. 

Your words were genuine when you countered, “You're so much more important than a stupid date, Spencer.”

After hearing those words, he leaned over to catch your lips with his without a warning. The fervor he displayed knocked the air out of your lungs. He kissed you greedily, his hands grabbing your waist to push you against his body. 

His tongue begged for entrance and you granted it, melting into him with this kiss that tasted more salty than you would have liked. How easy it would have been to fall back into your old routine, to lose yourself inside his arms as you both chased a quick solution to a problem that couldn't be fixed. 

His hands started searching for the softness your body had to offer, calloused fingertips brushing over the velvet of the skin he found underneath your shirt. It was not like you didn't yearn for it too, for this make-believe game you liked to play. More than anything did you crave the sensation of his touch, this moment that briefly let you forget all the marks past lovers had left on your body. 

It didn't feel right, though. Not anymore. 

Spencer instantly sensed your hesitance and pulled back to find your eyes. Never before had he looked more vulnerable than in that moment. 

“I don't think it’s a good idea,” you breathed as your hands found his face to wipe his tears away. 

Spencer pulled away from you, denying you the access to his skin. 

“So it's okay if you cry during sex, but when I do it, that's where you draw the line?” He huffed. 

The harshness of his words shocked you but you could see the regret in his eyes instantly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

You reached for his hand as you softly spoke, “It’s okay. You're upset, I get it.” 

Several moments of silence passed. Seconds of contemplating how to proceed until you decided to offer him the comfort he craved anyway. 

You leaned in for another kiss. It was a lot softer and slower than before but Spencer took what he could get. When you got ahold of the hem of his shirt to take it off, he pulled back. 

“Wait, I’m not sure about this,” he stuttered. “I don't want you to feel like–”

“Spencer,” you interrupted him. “Do you trust me?”

A quiet breath fell from his lips before he nodded. “More than I ever thought possible.”

With that there was no more resistance to be found when you continued undressing him. He moved with you until only underwear was covering your bodies. 

“Lie down,” you cooed and he did as you said. 

Unlike your previous encounters, it was apparent that what the both of you craved was not sex this time. You laid down beside him to pull him into your arms, no distance allowed between the two of you. His skin was pressed against yours, so much so that it became impossible to tell where your body ended and his began. 

He left featherlight kisses on your neck before resting his head against your shoulder. You held him as close as you could, not daring to loosen the grip you had around his body. 

With his arms and legs all bent and folded to fit inside your embrace, there was no more trace of the tall man he usually was. He seemed small, almost fragile. Even more so when another fit of sobs shot through his body. 

Spencer trembled inside your arms and you held him. You held him until he had successfully cried himself to sleep.

At least that was what you thought. The harbingers of your own slumber had already begun numbing your senses when you suddenly felt his lips brushing over your cheek. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispered almost inaudibly. 

I know, you thought but were already too far gone to answer him. 

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you found Spencer already awake, looking at you. His eyes were still a bit swollen but his facial features looked soft, almost content. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whined as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Like what?” He mumbled. 

“Like a lovesick fool!” 

Spencer didn't seem surprised at your words. It seemed like he was aware that you had heard what he said to you last night. 

“What if I am?” He asked, a smirk spread over his face. 

Now was not the time for your usual sarcastic banter. Not when everything you had with him was about to implode. 

You sat up in the bed and warned him, “Stop it, Spencer.”

He shook his head, “I can’t keep pretending. It’s the truth.”

You got up to get dressed while you huffed, “How can it be true after you have seen the worst of me.”

“I have seen the worst of you and I still love you.”

You started pacing up and down his bedroom, trying to come up with something to say to that. Spencer got up too and put his clothes on. You came to a halt about an arm’s length away from him before you said, “This is not what love should feel like.”

“How would you know?” He countered. 

His words seemed cruel but they were true. You didn't know what love actually felt like. There was this image you had in your head of an innocent, saccharine kind of love that probably only existed in fiction.  

Spencer didn't let it go just yet. There was a certain insecurity audible in his voice when he practically begged you, “Look at me and tell me that you don’t feel the same way ” 

Instead of looking at him, your sight fell to the floor. “What I feel is the urge to leave.”

It was to be expected that this would be your reaction. Spencer knew you well enough to be aware of the risk he took by confessing his feelings. He suspected that you reciprocated them but were still too afraid to admit it. 

He stepped out of your way and gestured towards the door. “I’m not gonna stop you.”

To your own surprise, you hesitated.  

“What are we doing, Spencer?”

A very timid smile appeared on his face when he realized that you didn't follow your instincts to leave. Maybe there was hope after all. 

“I’m not sure,” Spencer answered. “…but I’m willing to find out.”

It wasn’t like this thought had never crossed your mind. In fact, there was a part of your brain that sometimes overpowered anything else and let you fantasize about a potential future with him. 

However, you were very familiar with the demons Spencer had to fight every day. And you were even more aware of your own darkness. You were afraid that the combination of those things might become a poisonous mixture that had the potential to destroy the both of you. 

So it was only logical to voice your concerns. “I don’t think I can make you happy.” 

“It’s not your job to make me happy,” he sighed. “But maybe there is a chance that we could find happiness together. In little those moments, just like before, when we woke up together. Or when we took a shower the other day. Maybe those little things add up one day to something bigger. To something better. Something worth taking the risk.” 

You looked at the door once more but decided to sit down at his bedside instead of leaving. 

You found his eyes and breathed, “Okay.” 

Spencer sat down beside you. “Okay?”

What you had with him was imperfect and not at all what you had imagined. Some might think what you were about to do was stupid, maybe even reckless. It was only a matter of time until one of you got hurt, got caught in the crossfire of the intensity of your emotions. But maybe it was worth giving it a chance. 

Yes, some might call it reckless. But in that moment you thought of it as bravery. 

“Yes.” You confirmed. “Let’s give it a try.” 

A split second after you said those words, you felt Spencer’s lips on yours. The kiss felt different than the ones before. There was no desperation or insatiable hunger noticeable in his actions. This kiss was sweet, almost innocent. It was a way to melt into one another with no hurry, no need to compensate for something you’d never truly experience. 

Soon you were both shedding each layer of clothing before lying down on the bed to continue the kiss without any barrier between you. His chest was firmly pressed against yours and you could feel his heart thumping against your skin, almost as if it was looking for its counterpart inside your ribcage. 

You could feel your heart calling out to him. For the first time you didn't want to be with him to shield your heart from the rest of the world, no. This time you wanted to open up, to give Spencer a chance to feel your affection.

“I love you,” you whispered between kisses. 

He leaned back to smile at you and you could feel how his love entered your body, how it was on a mission to bring light to even the darkest corners of your soul.

“I love you, too.”

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