#like the precursor to a crush or even feelings

[moonsandstar-s]

one of the aspects that i love most about the confession scene is that blake & yang both already know the big truth they haven’t dropped on each other. blake knows yang is thinking ‘i love you’ and yang realizes that blake is thinking it too as the clouds go gold behind her, even though she immediately questions it with the dropping of her gaze and the uncertainty on her face - for them, it’s a matter of being brave enough to speak it into existence rather than revealing previously-unknown feelings to each other. my question is, when do you guys think blake and yang first became aware of how they, themselves, were feeling? 

[reiderwriter]

I Won't Let You Forget

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: When you wake up in a familiar yet unfamiliar bed with no memory of begging your long-time work crush to sleep with you, you have even less recollection of him actually agreeing. Small memories of pleasure haunt you as he tries to figure out why you're suddenly so distant.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!! Alcohol use (whole BAU team, and as a precursor to sex), implied smut, on page (?) smut, dom-ish!Spencer, male masturbation, marking, nipple play/torture, edging, penetrative sex, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, semi-public sex/ make out, creampie, reader is very into male moans. That should be it.

A/N: I forgot about this fic TWICE, but it's here!!! Posting again for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB challenge, and I feel like this one slightly misses the mark but it works anyway. Gif inspiration is at the end for anyone familiar with Business Proposal lol

Masterlist

Being an FBI Agent means you'd slept in - and woken up in - some sketchy places on jobs. A number or motel and hotel rooms across the backroads of America, planes, cars, and office desks. You could usually orient yourself pretty well upon waking, and remember how you'd gotten yourself there quickly.

There was something strange about that morning in particular, though. The bed was comfier and warmer than any motel you'd ever seen, and the fact that there was one meant no jet or desk. It was pitch black outside, though, so visually, you were out of luck. The sheets smelt fresh and familiar, and if weren't for a small warning bell in the back of your head, you'd have shut your eyes again and huddled against the large body pressed against your back.

‘Ah,’ you thought, inwardly cringing. ‘That would be it then.’

Slowly, you pulled what you assumed to be a man's arm from around your midsection, trying to extricate yourself quietly from the bed without any notice.

Whoever was asleep behind you, though, was a lot stronger than you had bargained for, and he quickly pulled you back into him.

Your back hit his chest as he nuzzled into your neck, and you heard his groan out a greeting before stilling and returning to the land of rest. If anything, for your troubles you just came to an understanding that whoever was behind you was just as naked as you were, and based on the way your body seemed over stretched, and well-rested, you had no doubt about the events leading upto your discovery.

You just had no memory of it either.

You wracked your brain, trying desperately to recall where you were, who you were with, and what you were going to do to get out. Unluckily for you, your brain was at about half capacity as his hands worked their way between your legs, even as he slept.

His hands were soft, his touch light on your skin, as if he were tracing words along a page. You twitched under him, stomach flipping as your hips bucked backwards, and your eyes dropped closed again.

You hadn't a clue who you'd climbed into bed with, you simply had the greatest regret that you'd likely never see him again, and would not remember what was likely a deeply, deeply satisfying night.

In abject mortification, you tried once more to free yourself from the very pleasurable prison you'd found yourself in.

Thankfully, his hands chose that moment to fall limp, and you took your chance, hopping up and searching the floor for at the very least your underwear before chancing a glance around you.

Like an arrow through the heart, you realised the room was familiar because you had slept here before. You'd slept over at Spencer's house many times, after work ran late and you needed a place to crash.

Never naked, though. Until now.

You pulled on your clothes as fast as you physically could and tried not to squeak out your disbelief. You almost wondered if you hit your head hard enough against the bookshelf, some braincells would knock together and produce the memory you'd been desperate to make for half a year.

You had finally succeeded in bedding Spencer Reid. And you didn't remember a moment of it.

It was grief that drove you out of his house at 5 am. on a Saturday morning, and definitely, absolutely no regret.

Stepping outside the dark building and being greeted by the first hints of a sunrise, one single, trifling memory slipped back into your brain.

“Something casual,” you giggled, every 's' sound slurring together with each letter touching them. “Something casual and naughty, and fun.”

You didn't remember his exact reply, but though a flicker of arousal ran through you at the memory of the deep rumble of his voice. He had been close, his mouth next to your ear.

You supposed now that his reply hardly mattered when you knew the outcome anyway. It'd been the man himself wrapped around you in bed that morning, his fingers grazing your skin, his cock hard against your ass, his dreams obviously clearer than your own memories.

“It's not like we have the time to see other people,” you'd said to him the night before, hand pushing up his thigh to signal your intent. “We can have some fun. Share a motel room now and then.”

Four sentences.

Four sentences were the extent of your memories, and each one of them had been said by you. Not even a single reply flittered through your brain anymore, a single reaction.

You'd have thought it all a dream but for the fact that you were hunched outside the main entrance to Spencer's building, sans pair of panties you couldn't locate, thanking the gods that your very expensive bra was still around and that you'd worn pants the night before.

To say that Spencer was similarly disorientated when he woke hours later was an understatement. Of course, with the caveat that he remembered every word, every breath, every touch and movement. Instead, he was surprised to find you gone, without a word.

You'd promised as much last night, though.

Casual sex. That's what you'd asked for, and what he'd spent the better half of an evening trying to talk you out of, first with words and then with actions.

It didn't take a night together with you for Spencer Reid to realise that what he wanted quickly bypassed casual. Even now, alone in bed with the memory of you, your scent buried deep in his sheets, the history of your lips branded into his skin, he felt an overwhelming longing.

His body protested against his interrupted plans. He'd hoped to wake you up much the same way he'd put you to sleep the night before, limbs tangled, his cock buried deep inside of you. Instead, he swung his legs out of bed and looked for any trace of you.

It didn't take him long to find your accidental gift. He'd been the one to remove them from you the night before, and he had a good grasp of what the room was supposed to look like, so spotting a pair of fire truck red panties tucked by the door wasn't hard.

It was less spotting them and more staring at them until he convinced his body to calm down, which in and of itself was like fighting a losing battle.

He'd woken up hard, which he didn't doubt was due to dreams of you. He tried his best to ignore it, but before he knew it, he was laid back down with your discarded panties in his hand, pressed up to his mouth and nose as he worked out his frustrations.

Usually, he tried to get himself off as quickly as possible. Time was a commodity, and he always had to be somewhere doing something. That morning, though, he gladly sat back and indulged.

His brain queued up the memories of the night before, playing them chronologically so he could enjoy the feeling of your lips on his, your legs gripping around him, your tongue flicking at the tip of his dick. When he finally came, it was with the disappointment that he hadn't gotten to the best bit yet, finally pushing inside of you.

But after a night of activity and a lonely morning, he let himself rest again and turned his mind to other objectives.

1. Get your panties back to you without being put in handcuffs for indecency.

2. Have enough casual sex with you that you realise you no longer want casual, but something more.

3. Change the bedsheets.

The following week at the BAU was - thankfully - a blur of cases, consultations, and computer files. You were swept off on another case by Sunday evening, back in two days and off again by Thursday morning. Before you knew it, an entire week had passed, and you hadn't had to discuss anything with anyone.

Every morning walking into the bullpen was like walking on shards of broken glass. Willingly.

You'd said less than four sentences to Spencer since you'd accidentally on purpose thrown yourself into his lap, and you found yourself suddenly lacking the vocabulary to actually bring it up.

Instead, you'd simply chosen to sigh after him as he did anything at all in the office, with a single thought in your head: ‘Did he keep the glasses on while we fucked?’

He'd been wearing them all week, and you always thought they made him look hotter than he already was. A little nerdy, but in a Superman way. You couldn't for the life of you get the memory to pop back into your head, though, despite prompting it with many out of pocket daydreams.

“What's got you all introspective?” Derek asked, striding up beside you in the office kitchenette.

“Nothing in particular, what makes you ask?”

“Well, Princess, you just poured salt in your coffee, and from memory, you don't take it that way, so maybe there's something going on with you.”

You cursed and emptied your cup quickly as the man laughed.

“Take it what way?” A voice called out from the doorway, and every hair on your body stood on high alert. There was something about Spencer saying ‘take it’ that should've been so casual, but sent shudders across your body as you heard the words whispered into your ear.

“Take it like a good girl, that's right. So good for me.”

Your cup almost went crashing to the floor as your ears pricked, but you refused to turn around for fear he'd read the truth on your face.

“Nothing kid,” Morgan said, chuckling as you rinsed your cup and kept rinsing it until you felt yourself cool down a bit.

“What's up with the glasses? You've been wearing them a lot this week.” Derek asked, and you cursed his sudden onset curiosity, knowing there was no way to dismiss yourself from the room without garnering an entirely new set of questions.

“I just ran out of contacts,” Spencer replied, but you heard the grin in his tone without even having to look at him.

“You should just throw out all of your contacts,” you'd said, as you nipped at his throat. “I swear I'd jump you every day if you looked at me like that down your glasses.”

You tried to remain composed as the memory of straddling him and grinding down against his hard member hit you like a freight train. You felt you managed it well until you looked down to see another ruined, salty coffee.

“If you ever want to fuck me, just, like, come in wearing the glasses. I'll know,” you'd moaned as his hands gripped your hips controlling your rhythm and pressing you harder into him. “Fuck, I’ll know.”

“I give up,” you mumbled and took off, avoiding all eye contact as you left the small space.

A small part of you had wished that Spencer had your memory of the night. The smallest, teeniest part of you that didn't want a do-over that was. Getting possible confirmation that he remembered everything you'd said while drunk on dick (and tequila) was a lot to take on at 2 pm. on a Friday.

As you walked away, you sent up a prayer to every deity you could think that the memories came back whole and intact, and quickly, and preferably while you were alone and not in company.

Because you wanted nothing more than to relive that brief bite of pleasure you'd been granted.

The weekend came and went fairly obstruction free, even if your dreams, waking and not, were filled with the image of Spencer's head tipped back as you raked your teeth and tongue over sensitive areas.

It took you all the way until Monday morning, when you'd returned to work and seen Spencer in the glasses once again, to remember the meaning of the words you'd thrown at him.

Spencer wanted to fuck you again. Still. Continuously?

The thought made you a little apprehensive - he already knew your body, from the sounds of it, he'd definitely been competent enough, and you was left stranded on the desert island of short term memory loss. He wanted to fuck him you again. Was there a reason? Was there something you did that he enjoyed? What were his boundaries? His kinks? What positions did he like?

Half your days now, it seemed, were filled with questions about sex with Spencer. So it wasn't a surprise you'd kept up your staring. You couldn't fault him for having his eyes trained on you more times than not as well.

You were so glad that your emotions on the subject were so tangled and crossed that no one else could read them there.

BAU 0-1 EMOTIONAL TURMOIL

It was lucky, though, that you were watching him near constantly and were the first to notice the flash of purple against his neck as he loosened his tie.

You stood with a startling bang, hitting your knee against the table as you sprinted over to his desk.

Leaning over him, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and, tugging him around so he was facing you, began buttoning it for him.

“Y/N,” he whispered, looking up at you and trying to play this off as a daily occurrence, to not alert the room full of human lie detectors to suspicious behaviour.

“What are you doing?”

“Your tie is loose. Strauss is always visiting these days. Let's not give her petty reasons to penalise us.”

He relaxed more into your touch and let you work, tilting his head so your hands could get where they needed to be.

“So you're being a good friend?” he asked, and despite the obvious bait, you answered.

“Yes.”

“Good friends help each other out.”

“We can still be friends, Spencer,” you'd begged as you fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to get it off so you had more skin to taste. “Good friends who help each other out from time to time. Like this.”

“Your neck is still purple,” you whispered, changing the subject and moving on to his tie as you untied it and levelled it again, ready to twist back up.

“Is yours?”

“You can see my neck, it's fine.”

“That's not what I meant.”

You met his eyes finally, completing the last loop of the knot as you challenged him.

Or rather, challenged yourself to not drop your eyes to his lips.

“Say what you mean,” you glared, straightening his shoulders and brushing off non-existent dust as you attempted to slip away.

“The purple marks on you. I didn't leave them on your neck. Are they still… bright?”

You looked around you. Emily and Derek seemed to be giving you slightly weird looks, but both seemed trapped on business phone calls that wouldn't end anytime soon.

You'd noticed the marks straight away, of course, across the tops of your breasts and surrounding them, as if that area had been the coordinates for a targeted assault. Now, though, with his eyes burning a path down from your eyes to your chest as loudly as a person could ever look, you knew just how true that was.

“Spencer, fuck YES!” You had moaned the second your back hit the mattress of his bed. You'd been drinking together on his sofa, but were ecstatic to graduate to the bedroom and lose half your clothes in the process.

With greedy hands, he'd ripped away your bra, and immediately he'd latched on with his mouth, sucking, biting, licking, fondling. He bruised one spot with his mouth while his hand tortured a nipple, first ignoring it, circling it but not touching it directly, and then pulling it to the border of pain and pleasure before switching hand and mouth and repeating the process.

Back in the present, you looked down at Spencer in his seat, breathed deeply, and replied.

“You know as well as I do that you made them to last.”

“So we match, then?” he asked, and you gave a quick nod before escaping back to the relative sanity of your desk. His eyes didn't leave your chest though, and for the whole afternoon, you wondered if he'd invented a way to look so hard that you bruised further.

If you had to give one reason why you loved your job, you'd probably say because you spent your day solving riddles and puzzles and getting to the bottom of situations. You liked clear-cut explanations for things and couldn't stand the roundabout ways people in other professions had to talk to each other. You'd listen to Hotch walk laps around other lawyers in legalese enough times to know you were no fan of espionage or double talk.

So there was only one downside of the job, and that was having to be covert. If you'd wanted to spy, you'd have joined the CIA instead.

Your most recent case, unfortunately, had landed you doing exactly that. It had also landed you in a closet, chest to chest with Spencer Reid, as you listened into a conversation between two likely suspects.

In the first five minutes, you gained the important information you needed, and the next forty-five was a waiting game to see when they'd finally get out so you could escape.

If you'd been alone, you wouldn't have minded. But with Spencer's 6 foot something frame practically wrapped around your own, your spine was ramrod straight, your thoughts turning back to frustration as you urged your brain to give back the night of memories you'd lost.

Because if he felt this good just stood next to you, you would go crazy imagining how good he felt inside you.

The most you managed to squeak out, after nearly an hour wrapped around each other, though, was “Do you get a sense of Deja Vu here?”

It was the first time you'd turned your head to look at him, having been looking to the door the entire time. But your gaze returned to him, and even the shadows of the closet couldn't hide the obvious list dripping from his eyes as he covertly stared down your shirt. Your breasts had popped up a bit more with him squished up against you, and your hands were pinned to the wall beside your waist should you need to draw your gun quickly if found.

Your companion, instead, was in a world of his own, and you were suddenly grateful that he'd kept at least an inch of space between your hips, knowing that you, too, would be a goner if you had to stand against the hard line of his cock for this long.

“Hmm?” He whispered, still staring at the little speckles of faded yellow and purple that popped out of your suddenly too low shirt.

“Deja vu?” You asked again, slightly breathless and dizzy, a side effect of his lusty gaze.

He raised an eyebrow and gave a slow nod, his hands gripping your waist and pinning you more firmly to the wall as he debated giving into temptation. “We've definitely been here before.”

A snippet of a memory caught you unaware, and you gasped in response.

He pinned your hands above your head against the wall as you crashed your way into the bedroom, his fingers too impatient to undress you to start pleasuring you. Without a warning, he slipped a hand up your dress and down your panties, keeping you in place with one impossibly large hand as the other skilfully drew out moan after moan with soft caresses.

“So fucking wet for me,” he groaned against your lips, as your memory melted away to reality.

You were being edged by your goddamn frontal cortex, and you had absolutely had enough. As soon as the suspects left, you raced out of the closet as fast as your feet could carry you away from the torment.

A week of solid case work, avoiding Spencer and hitting your head against a brick wall in your spare time later, and you found yourself attending a hasty work celebration with the team.

A murderer had been caught job well done, or whatever excuse you needed to unwind after work over a few large pizzas.

“All I'm saying is, a deep dish every now and again would be appreciated. We're never that far from Chicago.”

“We're 613 miles away from Chicago.”

You laughed at the tired face Derek flashed the team before biting into his slice, your other coworkers similarly tucking into the late night meal.

You'd landed at 11pm, and starving, had come to your last resort.

“Is anyone else's pizza wet?” Emily asked, picking up her slice and letting it drip onto her cardboard plate.

You shrugged at the comment, just happy to finally be filling your stomach with something other than coffee for the first time in what felt like forever.

But there seemed to be no rest for the wicked, and you caught Spencer's eye as you tugged the cheese into your mouth.

“Mhmm. So wet.”

There was no reality in which you stopped yourself from choking on your food then, as he kept a quiet smile on his face as the others offered you drinks and tissues.

Perched next to him, you shot him a dirty look out of the corner of your eye and were about to turn back to your meal when he moved again.

Bringing a tissue to your lips, he wiped away the grease from the corners, quietly berating you as he cleaned you like a child.

“So messy. Don't choke on it next time.”

The double entendre didn't go unnoticed, as Derek piled on quickly, not noticing the unsettling mix of deep, bitter embarrassment and utter arousal warring on your features.

“Kid, you don't have to tell the woman to swallow. I'm sure she's perfectly capable.”

Each memory that hit you came with a wave of matching mortification, as you tried to keep every reaction to yourself.

But remembering the feeling of Spencer Reid's cum shooting across your face was something you'd much rather have experienced privately. You stayed trapped into much too intimate eye contact with him anyway as he kept tending to your small spills. He wiped away the drops of grease on your legs, gripping your thigh much tighter than you could ever have possibly needed.

Evidently, your coworkers had found some satisfaction with the pizza, as they all seemed to not notice the tension a simple touch had snapped between the two of you. Using their hunger as a shield, you quickly excused yourself from the table to clean yourself up.

The door to the bathroom was only a step away from the door to the alley, and you quickly let yourself out into the crisp night air. Not even two minutes later, Spencer was with you.

“Y/N?”

“Oh god, it's happening again. I can hear his voice!”

“Y/N, please, come back inside.”

“Sure, if you stop trying to eye fuck me in front of my boss!”

With the words finally out in the open between you, you stood still for a best or two, letting Spencer pick up the slack in the conversation.

“The… The others were talking about going to get some drinks,” he started carefully, afraid you'd spook at any moment. “After pizza?”

“Drinks?”

“Alcohol.”

You gave a short bitter laugh and brushed a hand through your hair as you turned your face away from him.

“I seem to make a lot of mistakes when I'm drunk.”

“Mistakes?” He said. The word was so quietly hurt that you instantly winced, realising your mistake.

“No. No. That's not how I meant it, Spencer, I just…” you grabbed your hair in frustration again, trying desperately to find the words to explain the gaping void where pleasing memories should've been.

“Everyone… everyone is still inside, right? No chance of a surprise visit from anyone.”

“They're debating Hawaiian pizza, I think we have time. Why?”

Another minute passed as you thought through your next actions, leg shaking as you processed every possible emotion.

Lunging toward him, you grabbed a hold of his shirt and pressed up to meet him in a kiss. Responding quickly, his hands gladly claimed a hold of your body as he walked you back against the wall, his mouth furiously engaged with your own in a battle of lust.

“I don't-” you gasped between kisses, unable to get more than a word in as his tongue works his way into your mouth. He pulled away eventually, but only to distract you further with a wandering tongue exploring the plains of skin already on show. Neck, lips, cheeks, collar, nothing is safe from the hear of his tongue tracing up and down the length of you..

“Don't what?” He said, finally finding the willpower to pull back for more than a millisecond.

“I don't remember. Any of it, I can't remember. God, I'm so stupid. Why don't I remember?”

For a second, his tongue kept up its journey, and you moaned as he nipped at the edge of your ear. That was until your words hit his ears and his hands flew up faster than you could've ever pushed them off.

“What?”

“I don't-” panic surged in your voice as you felt it tremble and shake, gulping it down to continue.

“I don't remember anything. And I woke up in your bed, and it felt so good and nice, but I couldn't remember it until you started doing things, and then I remembered… small parts?"

He raked a hand through his hair and took a deep breath as you continued, desperate to get every word out as fast as possible.

“I-I-I, shit Spencer, I woke up feeling so good, and then I saw you there, and I couldn't remember a thing. Do you know how long I was waiting for something to happen? I couldn't even remember one stupid fucking kiss, let alone anything else we did-”

“You seriously don't remember anything.”

“That's what I've been saying.”

He nodded and let out a shaky breath as you stepped closer to him, desperate to explain your predicament.

“You don't… you didn't just regret It and decide to leave?”

“I can't regret something I don't remember.”

Worrying his lip, he looked away for a minute and looked back, and you found yourself creeping closer again until his hands were gripping your hips again as he looked back to you.

“If you could remember, would you regret it?”

In a heartbeat, you had your answer.

“No.”

His lips crashed into yours again, and you gladly moaned into this one. With one hand buried in curls and the other pulling him closer by his loose tie, your hands stayed fastened to his body, clutching him like there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

His hands followed suit, falling down to your thighs as he spread your legs further apart, holding you against the wall and lifting you just slightly, angling your hips together in a way that numbed your senses.

Everywhere you touched left you craving further exploration, to be closer to him, and you whined in his mouth as if to let him know what you so dearly craved.

He listened and gave in, his fingers pushing to the centre of you, mere centimetres away from where you wanted him.

It was as if God was laughing down at your struggle, though, as just as he was about to make contact, a shout of your names rang out around the corner. Just as Penelope rounded into the alleyway, you shoved Spencer away, accidentally flinging him to the ground as you desperately righted yourself again.

“There you two are. What are you doing out here?”

“Earring,” you gasped, praying it was just dark enough for Penelope to not notice that your lipstick and Spencer's lipstick were the same shade.

“I dropped an earring, and Spencer is helping me look for it.”

Slightly confused, Spencer quickly went along with your lie, patting the ground where he'd fallen to look for the imaginary jewellery.

“Okay. Well, we're hopping over to the bar next door, and no! This is not optional, Emily already ordered the first round.”

Without another word or explanation, or anything to really help you figure out what was going on with you and Spencer, the two of you awkwardly followed Penelope into the bar and to your seats.

You stuffed yourself into the seat beside Penelope, and were not at all upset when Spencer climbed into the booth right beside you, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you knees bumping every now and then from the movements.

And just like that, you found yourself drinking for another two hours, unable to process any of the emotions you'd been through in the alley.

Elation. Desperation. Sadness. Arousal. All stuck in your tiny, tiny brain as you tried still to remember any small detail you could about your last encounter.

Your look of concentration didn't go unnoticed.

“Y/N, what's with the pensive look?” Derek shot at you across the table as he finished the last dregs of his beer. “Is it perhaps the melancholy of singleness?”

“That's not a word,” Spencer mumbled into his own drink.

When Penelope joined in, you knew you'd been backed into a corner.

“Are you not seeing someone?” She asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“There was that guy you mentioned last week, right?” The sound of betrayal came directly from the other side of you, and your head whipped from Penelope to Spencer so fast, you were sure you'd be feeling it in the morning.

“What? What guy, Y/N? You never mentioned a guy to me! Spencer knows, but I don't know. How is that fair?”

“No, Penelope, he's-”

“Spencer, what do you know? What's this guys name? What does he look like? What does he do for a living? When you say she mentioned him last week, was it a mention mention, or just a mention?”

“Penelope, slow down.”

“Well-”

“Spencer! Do NOT answer her.”

“You don't want me to tell her about the guy you wanted something casual with. You said you were around him a lot, so you might as well try it at some point.”

Your face burnt in shame as you narrowed your eyes at him. Had you really said that? Had that honestly been your opener for hitting on the man you'd wanted for the longest time?

“Mhmm, really? And what else did I say?”

“I don't think you'll want me to say-”

“No, please, jog my memory.”

“You said, and I quote, that he had a ‘very rideable face.’ You followed up with, ‘it would look very pretty buried between your legs.’”

The chorus of laughter that rang out only set you more on edge after the flush of memories that hit you once more. He had looked very pretty sat between your legs licking your cunt, lapping up your cum as your legs shook and you fucked yourself against his face. He had simply pressed a hand to your stomach, held you still and kept up the good work. His eyes sparkled with passion and his lips glistened with cum. It was quite the picture, now that you remembered it.

You were just annoyedeniugh, so you had to shoot back a retort. You were just too slow to realise “yes, well, I can recall that I was, in fact correct,” wasn't the right retort.

Another half hour of questioning later, and you'd finally been allowed passage out of the bar, into a taxi, and back to your apartment, alone but for the shame.

Spencer, perpetually sober-ish, had been put on designated driver duty to get others home, and it wasn't as if you could protest.

You threw yourself down onto your bed as soon as you got into your apartment and stayed there until you were about to fall asleep. A knock at your door pulled you back into the world of the woken, and you dragged yourself to the door.

You weren't surprised to see Spencer back at your side an hour after you'd left him. You knew it was a possibility, though you thought you'd be waiting another 12 hours or so.

It took less than 12 seconds for his searching eyes to find whatever silent consent he was looking for before he stretched out and claimed you. He softly cradled you as his lips met you, his gentle touch delicate where his soft lips were hard and insistent. He closed the door. He pushed you back a step at a time until you were out of the doorway. Pausing, he pulled away and took off his glasses, putting them down on the side table, before cupping your cheek and stealing your breath. Again.

You moaned into his kiss, and he slipped his hand down to your neck, gently squeezing as he moved you back towards the bed.

“Spencer…” you begged wordlessly.

“Remember now?”

“N-No.”

He nodded and continued, his other hand loosening his tie once more, as you clung to him like glue, hands not daring to move from the holds you had on his shirt, afraid you'd trip and lose sight of him all over again.

You reached the bed, and he sat you down, tearing his lips away at last, but still choosing to keep hold of your neck, standing above you.

“Are you sober?” He asked, as though he hadn't watched you drink only virgin cocktails all night. You shook your head, yes.

“Good.”

“Are you going to fuck me?” You blurted out, unable to help yourself, even without the liquid courage.

“You wanted the experience, right? And then you forgot all about it, so it's only polite…” His hands began massaging your neck, shoulders, pushing down into your shirt to get the top of your chest, too.

“I don't want the experience,” you said quickly. “Not- not a casual experience, Spencer, I want… I want…” His hands distracted you as your shirt stretched to allow his hands to grope your breasts. He slipped into your bra and began his assault of your chest, still looming above you as he listened to your explanation.

“I… don't want a casual thing, Spencer, I want- I want…” you moaned as he pinched your nipple hard, seething as you attempted to not shout out.

“What do you want, Y/N? Be specific.”

“I want you!” You moaned, chest pushing into his touch, trying to avoid the mixture of pain and pleasure pulsing through you with each flick of his finger.

“For how long?” He asked, and your brain short circuited as you whined and pouted up at him, his fingers still tugging at your nipples, still kneading your skin, and pretending his touch was nothing.

“D-don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't make me give this an expiration date.”

Spencer's eyes locked with yours, and you found yourself on your back swiftly after, his lips pressed to yours as he held himself over you. Instead of assaulting your chest again, he was slower, more delicate as he gently removed your shirt, encouraging you to move further up the bed as he planted himself firmly between your two legs.

Everywhere he kissed and licked and sucked was a distraction from his attempts to uncloth you, to make you forget that he was still fully dressed and you were about to be laid out plain as day before him.

You covered your chest when he stole your bra, but you couldn't push your thighs together quick enough when he got your panties, and his hand slipped between your folds before you could even catch a breath.

“Good girl,” he whispered, as his fingers found your clit, dipping into your wet spot before tracing along your bundle of nerves and rocking his fingers back and forth, eyes always on yours.

He dropped his forehead to yours and watched silently as your mouth widened to an ‘O’ as you grew wetter, more desperate, more aroused, until you hit your peak and came apart on his fingertips. He hadn't even put a finger inside you, and your whole body was awash with satisfaction.

Another kiss stolen ended all thoughts of contentment as he slid in a finger into you while slipping his tongue back into your mouth.

If his fingers on your clit had been gentle, probing, curious about your release, the fingers stretching you out were the opposite. He knew your limits, had taken pleasure in your pleasure and now he was testing it, seeing how far he could push you until you did everything once again.

His free hand reached up to your face, and before you knew it, two fingers had been inserted into your mouth. You sucked instinctively, desperate to please him as your hips jumped upwards, trying to ride his hand. But every time you so much as moved, he withdrew slightly, pulling that pleasure you so desperately sought from your grasp.

“Spencer- please-” you said as he pulled his fingers from your mouth.

“I'm not going faster. I want you to remember every second, I want this to last as long as possible, okay? Can you do that?”

You pouted as he stroked your cheek with his wet fingers, gathering the spit from your chin before pushing it right back into your mouth. You kept sucking.

Every time he felt you tighten around him, his fingers withdrew, or they stilled, or he moved in a slightly different way, and you were set adrift again on the tide of arousal. He edged you for what felt like days to your pleasure addled mind, and you kept up your task, too.

“Good girl. No more cumming. Not yet.”

Finally, he withdrew his fingers, your legs shaking from the tension of holding off your pleasure.

He stood and removed his shirt, unbuttoning his pants just enough to free his swollen cock, but not removing it entirely.

The sight of him almost made you weep in relief, so sure that now you were going to be able to cum, that he'd enter you and your get to release around his cock, to suck him in deeper.

Instead, he got on his knees in front of you and gave another sharp order.

“No cumming, remember Princess.” Without waiting for a response, his tongue dragged across your folds, before reaching your clit. His lips wrapped around your nub and your whole body reacted, convulsing inwards as you shouted your pleasure.

“Spencer! Spencer, no, please - please!!” You clawed at the bed as you fucked his face, hips pleading with his tongue to finish the job he'd begun an age ago with his scant fingers.

You desperately wanted your release, but he was equally desperate to frustrate you, pinning your hips and pulling back to just spit on your cunt when your thrusts became erratic, close to the edge.

He touched everywhere except the part where you needed him, content for a moment to listen to the moans turn to tears, turn to anger and frustration and longing as you clawed a hand in his hair and humped his tongue like a beast.

Finally, you came, more than happy to use his tongue like the pillow you'd stuffed between your legs in your horny adolescence.

He wasted no more time entering you, rigid and hot, and more than welcomed by your aching cunt.

He pushed in inch by inch, and the eternity that passed before that point was nothing in comparison to the millenia caught between one breath and the next, between him readying himself, and him thrusting into you in his entirety.

He filled you perfectly, as if you were born to let him take you, to despoil your cunt again and again, until the scent of him never left you.

He moved, pushing your knees up as you welcomed somehow more of him, as he hunched over you and began.

It was animalistic, and noisy, and messy, and fuck, was it hot. The bedsheets were wet already from your water show foreplay session, but with his cock locked inside of you, you couldn't hold back, and you came with a spurt.

You screamed, not expecting your pleasure to squirt out of you, as he fucked you harder, your breaths mingling with the wet, sloppy sounds of your cunt being used again and again and again.

“Spencer, fuck, I'm-”

“You're what? Use your words.”

“I'm… safe, just- Fuck, just fill me up.”

He groaned into your ear as he made his thrusts more and more shallow, slowing down just enough to pull back from you and let you watch him claim you again and again.

He swiped his hair out of his face, biting his lip as his hips rolled into yours, and you swear if you had it left in you, you'd have came on his cock once more watching him do that.

You committed to memory every line of his body, every bruise, every scratch, every line, every hair, everywhere a bullet had nicked him, everywhere on his body that held pain, every gesture on his body that was registering pleasure. You cared less for your own now and more for his as you bucked up into him, meeting him silently as he sucked in a deep breath.

You watched him forget himself inside of you as he tipped his head back in pleasure and, with a small moan, emptied himself inside of you.

His breath crashed back into his body, and you felt every heartbeat resonate through him and into you.

“If you forget this again,” he panted, wrapping his arms around you again. “I'm not waiting another 20 days for a reminder.”

You smiled as his hair tickled Your neck, nuzzling into his neck as you enjoyed his warmth. You tried your best to memorise his scent, too.

“Wake me up bright and early, then,” you smiled, letting your brain settle as you replayed the day back in your head over and over again.

XXX

The inspo:

(Kim Mingue one fucking chance... one chance Kim Mingue...)

[starboyshoyo]

Crush Headcanons

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Leona Kingscholar, Floyd Leech

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: Fluff

How the NRC boys act when they have a crush, and how they try to win your heart over!

Riddle Rosehearts

Ah, yes. Our favorite emotionally-stunted dormwarden, Riddle Rosehearts. There’s not much of a precursor to him realizing he has feelings for you. One night, a few months into your friendship, Riddle will notice that he enjoys your company even more so than Trey or Cater. And then it hits him. Oh, he has a crush. 

His demeanor around you will do a complete 180 after that. While before, he would talk casually with you about any and all subject matter, he’s not so sure how to approach it anymore. He’ll go up to you in the hallways between classes and during free periods, back stiff as a board, and ask you to accompany him to the library to run some errands, or he’ll extend a gracious invitation to an unbirthday party next week. Yes, those are his exact words. 

You’ll be left wondering why Riddle’s demeanor has changed so much around you until you realize that he’s following all the steps to initiating a relationship from the NRC Gentleman’s Club Guide to Courting, 3rd Edition. Either that, or Trey will tell you outright to your face that Riddle is trying his best to win you over, he knows you like Riddle too, please just take him off of Trey’s hands for a while. 

Speaking of pawning Riddle off to be someone else’s problem, that’s exactly what most of Heartslabyul dorm will be doing once they catch onto Riddle’s feelings for you. They’ll keep you around as much as possible, because when you’re around, Riddle will try his best to keep himself contained. He could be right in the middle of shouting off with your head to a group of freshmen, but the moment you enter he stops dead in his tracks and lets them off with a warning. The first years scramble out of the room, silently thanking a higher power for sending them a guardian angel in their time of need. 

Cater is the best wingman Riddle could ask for, except that he didn’t ask for him. Regardless of how many times Riddle tells him that he wants to court you himself like a proper romantic candidate, Cater will insist that he needs to be more flashy about it! He can still be a classic man and be a bit more modern! Why doesn’t Riddle take you on a fancy dinner date to Mostro Lounge, instead of another boring ol’ tea party? (Cater definitely gets his head offed for that one). 

Riddle does take one piece of advice to heart, though. Cater suggests that spending time together and doing new things is the best way to get someone to like you, and Riddle thinks that’s reasonable enough. He’ll try to vary the things he invites you to do with him. One day you’ll be helping him paint the roses in the Rose Maze, and other days he’ll take you on a ride on his horse, Vorpal, around the racing track. 

Riddle will slowly lose the awkward formality that he held around you when he realized he liked you as more than a friend. His posture will relax and he’ll begin to talk to you normally again. One thing that won’t change though is the gentlemanly ways he treats you on these ‘trial dates.’ If you’re at dinner he’ll pull out your chair for you and hold the door. When strolling the campus he’ll link his arm in yours. If you’re trying to get a leg up on Vorpal’s back, he’ll hold your hand until you can steady yourself. It’s all very sweet really, and he’ll have a small smile on his face every time he does so.

Ace Trappola

Ace is another case where you’d definitely be friends before he falls for you, but instead of establishing a formal ‘courting period’ like Riddle does, Ace will just… not change. He’s still the same roughish, loveable idiot to you, messing with you at the most inopportune moments and pulling tricks to steal your food. But somehow, he gets a bit softer whenever you’re around. Instead of just calling you a dumbass, he’ll call you my dumbass. That’s just how he shows his affections. 

Ace has had a few encounters with romance before, but he’s never once thought so much about how he must have looked to them. With you, he wants to look cool. He wants to be your number one, your first and best choice! If you’re watching him at basketball practice, he’ll throw you a wink whenever he scores a basket.

Deuce is now his rival, end of story. Whether or not Deuce knows it or even likes you in the first place, Ace will always be trying to one-up him in front of you. Deuce got 79 on his last potionology test? Expect Ace to be studying nonstop for the next week, and return to you with a 79.5. 0.5 points more than Deuce! You can tell who the better man is now, right? 

He’s not shy about his feelings, but he may not confirm them right away either. He’ll call you cute, mess with you, and playfully push you around a bit, letting you know that he likes you. But truth be told he’s a little afraid of the idea that you might not want to be with a troublemaker like him, so he’ll wait to see how you react to his advances. 

If you’re welcoming to them, then expect Ace to step up his game tenfold from then on. He’ll walk you to and from every class of the day, beg you to study with him in his dorm room, even show up at your door in the middle of the night with an armload of your favorite snacks. He’ll grin at you when you open the door, quickly shoving past you and inviting himself in to dump his successful ‘hunt’ on the table. Pick whichever ones you like, he got them all for you!

The best thing about Ace having a crush on you is that no matter what, he will always be your friend, first and foremost. He wants to have fun with you and enjoy life by your side. Laughter is common when you’re around him, and he’ll always be looking for new ways to make you smile. 

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is an odd one. Upon first glance it seems like he doesn’t spare you one look. Sure, you might make friendly conversation with him while in passing, but he’s not showering you with attention at every opportunity like some others. It’s only when you notice that he’s a little more courteous around you than he is with others do you understand his true feelings towards you. 

Leona’s hints are subtle. Whenever you enter a room his ear will twitch as if he has just heard the most interesting tidbit of conversation. If your name is mentioned he might even raise his head to see what’s going on. He’ll keep an eye on you subtly from afar, especially when walking at night, to keep you safe. And a few choice orders from Ruggie later, and Leona will have your favorite food on the plate in front of him. He wants to know what it tastes like, so he can understand the subtlety of your character a bit better. 

This boy feels no need to show off in front of you. He knows he’s strong, you know he’s strong, and so does everyone else. While he wouldn’t mind you seeing him score a goal or two during Spelldrive, he doesn’t feel the need to prove it. If he’s really the game that day though, he’ll look up after scoring, and point directly towards you in the stands. Out of thousands of spectators, he knew exactly where you’ve been the whole time, and though no one else knows who he’s pointing to, he knows you’ll get the message. 

Many people are scared of him, sometimes for good reason. No one sets foot on Savanaclaw dorm territory without him knowing, and usually, it’ll end in a beatdown or a forceful eviction from the premises. With you though, you can wander through the entrance without so much as a comment from the students. Some of them are even friendly to you, waving and shouting greetings. It’s Leona’s orders that they treat you well, after all. 

The housewarden of Savanaclaw dorm is not ashamed of his feelings for you. Why should he be? Does caring about someone he holds in high esteem bring shame upon him? You’re a perfectly suitable romantic option. He’s not going to make a big show of his affection towards you, but he’s not going to hide it. He just lets it be. 

If you notice and take an interest in him too, great. He’ll see you next weekend for a date in the Botanical Gardens. 

Floyd Leech

Floyd is eccentric at times and that carries over to his romantic life. He’s got a pretty face and unique look, so he’s used to getting attention from admirers here and there. Every so often, he’ll flirt back if the mood suits him. But most of the time they’re nothing more than passing flings or amusements. Something about you is different, though. Floyd trusts his intuition. 

Even if he has a fondness for you, you’re not safe from Floyd’s teasing. No one is, not even Azul or Jade. Floyd finds it’s a surefire way to get your attention- poke at you until you swat him away, then grab your hand in his and squeeze- but gently. 

You may not pick up on Floyd’s feelings towards you right away. He’s physically touchy with many people, not just you, and he generally gets a kick out of ‘playing’ with them. When you’re involved though, he’s a bit more amiable. He’ll lay off on the taunts and divert his focus to gifting you unusual compliments.  If no one’s ever complimented you on the comparison of your shoes to a deep sea anchor, then Floyd will do it. 

Floyd’s mood swings are a point of contingency for most people, and he knows this. For that reason he’s all the more appreciative of the empathy you show him- you try to understand how he’s feeling and why he feels that way. He won’t say it out loud but the gratitude shows- he’ll follow through with an action, even if his initial thought on it is negative. Sometimes, it’ll lead to him actually enjoying the activity you’ve roped him into. 

His nicknames for you vary at times, but he’ll always have one favorite one. Sometimes you’re his clamshell, sometimes you’re starfish or pearl. But at the end of the day, you’ll always be his little Shrimpy. 

Even though Floyd can be seen as lazy sometimes, he makes a consistent effort when it comes to spending time with you. It’s not uncommon to walk out of class and get swept up in his wake, then suddenly end up at a new restaurant that opened up in the commercial district to do chocolate-tasting with you. How did you even get there? Who knows.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[bairdthereader]

Intentional Touch, Respected Space: A By-Episode Study, Part 4.1

This is the space where their love grows in safety.

S1E4: Secret (Section 1 of 2: Opening Scene)

[This episode will be split into two analyses, because the first scene is so complex and grew into its own post. So, the rest of E4 will post later.]

Charlie left Harry’s party crushed, devastated, and blaming himself for what he sees as another disastrous misreading of a relationship. He thinks he’s lost not only his romantic interest but, even worse, his best friend. Nick left Harry’s party confused, overwhelmed, and deeply guilty about leaving Charlie alone. The close and safe space they'd built between them looks, now, vast and inhospitable. The next morning, Charlie wakes up reluctantly and brushes his teeth, staring at his reflection while intrusive thoughts and negative transmutations of the night before play in his mind. In his reimagined version of events, Charlie is smiling and overeager as he asks Nick whether Nick would kiss him, and Nick responds with a surprised and disgusted rejection. This erases the beautiful, intentional romantic touch of the night before from Charlie's memory and overwrites it with damaging space, with the chasm that opened when Nick walked away.

Thankfully, that downward spiral of revisionist thinking is interrupted by a knock on the door.

To Charlie’s utter shock, Nick is standing on the front step in absolutely bucketing rain, soaked and out of breath. Nick starts immediately with an apology, before he even steps foot in the house—perhaps trying so hard to get the words out that he doesn’t think of coming in first, or perhaps respecting the fact that Charlie might need some physical space after the events of the night before, or perhaps feeling that the chasm needs to be crossed slowly and carefully . . . perhaps all three at once. While he explains that he didn’t text because he wanted to talk in person, his eyes rove over Charlie, and a little grin appears, before he anxiously looks back up at Charlie’s face. Nick is so happy and relieved to see Charlie, to have the chance to fix things between them, but when he looks back up at Charlie, Charlie's customary enthusiastic grin is missing, and Nick's concern about the coming conversation resurfaces; there's a hint of pleading in that anxious look. Charlie shows a similar, though more muted, progression, but where Nick’s expression lands on a bit of nerves, Charlie’s lands on fear—there’s a ghost of a smile, followed by a tense gulp, a little anxious twitch in his right arm, a slight frown. To Charlie, looking at the chasm from a perspective of self-blame, Nick’s desire to talk in person seems like the precursor to some kind of permanent break in their friendship.

Charlie says “okay” nonetheless. Whether his intent is to get Nick out of the rain (when the truth is, Nick is will stand in the rain until doomsday if that’s the only way he can talk to Charlie), or to continue to close the distance between them now that Nick has taken the first step (or both), Charlie reaches out. One hand grips the sleeve of Nick’s hoodie, while the other holds Nick’s upper arm, and he pulls Nick inside—the first touch since their kiss the night before, the first narrowing of the divide. The second Nick is fully out of the rain, Charlie’s hands drop, clenched at his sides. Charlie is still, contained, waiting . . . worrying that any kind of touch from him is now anathema to Nick and trying to respect that possibility, that space, while simultaneously wanting to touch him. Nick is all movement, repeated swallowing and hands fluttering nervously, almost gripping the edge of the door one moment, going for his pockets the next, finally letting them settle somewhere by his sides, wondering if any kind of touch is okay in this situation but wanting it nonetheless. Nick’s eyes dart around Charlie’s face; Charlie’s are steady on Nick, unwavering.

Nick must have felt an intense singlemindedness about just getting to Charlie and talking to him to ignore such a downpour, rather than taking a few seconds to grab an umbrella. Some part of Charlie recognizes this as he tries to break the tension by asking Nick whether he forgot his coat and then, with a hesitant smile, affectionately calls him an idiot, hoping he can return a bit of normalcy to their interaction.

There’s a flicker of the old comfort between the two of them—a reminder—before Nick pulls himself together and brings up the night before. Charlie immediately looks down, his brief moment of confidence gone, as he waits for whatever rejection he expects Nick to dish out. “About last night, I just wanted to say” is as far as Nick gets before Jane enters the scene, a timely (if annoyingly parental) reminder that they are not alone.

Jane’s comments about Charlie’s pajamas might have the opposite of the shaming effect she intended, since Nick is immediately unable to help giving Charlie a thorough, almost childishly enthusiastic and pleased once-over. A look Charlie catches him in and which Nick immediately tries to downplay, erasing the grin, standing a bit straighter, a little surprised at himself and wondering whether this kind of appreciation is, well, appreciated by Charlie. Charlie’s little return smile is a mixture of nervous, hopeful, and a bit confused. He suggests going up to his room, and with a tiny heel bounce and nod, Nick agrees, looking trepidatious as he walks past Charlie, who eyes him with obvious worry before hurriedly fixing his hair and following.

The boys enter what has hitherto been a safe space, both looking slightly terrified. Charlie looks down as Nick takes off the soaking wet sweatshirt, at once trying to respect Nick and also taking a moment to shield himself from what he thinks is coming, and gathering strength to say all the things he has to say. There is so much bravery in this pause before either of them speaks—Charlie, confronting his worst fears and crushing self-recrimination, and Nick, preparing to explain something about himself that he barely understands—both in an effort to salvage their friendship first and foremost. They begin the conversation a few feet apart, both trying to map the new boundaries of their shared space, each trying to give the other the room they think they need. Nick squares his shoulders just slightly, intentionally pulls his gaze back to Charlie, and tries to start.

But Charlie steps slightly forward into the chasm between them, the intensity of his need to apologize, to mend the rift he thinks he’s caused, pushing him toward Nick, even as he avoids Nick’s eyes. He realizes what he’s doing and pulls back slightly, though still not back to his original position. He wants, desperately, to have that space bridged.

Then begins what we have to suspect is a verbal vortex of apologies that Charlie has rehearsed yet can’t completely control in this moment of real life confrontation. Charlie grows increasingly frantic, while Nick’s frown intensifies. Nick listens for a while, surprised and a little sad, but also recognizing on some level what Charlie is doing and where it’s coming from, his near compulsive need to take the ”blame” and absolve Nick of anything that might be causing Nick discomfort. When Charlie gets to “I don’t want you to feel awkward about it because it was all my fault,” Nick decides it’s time to interject. He steps decisively and intentionally forward, knowing that Charlie needs to hear Nick’s side of the story to understand that there is, in fact, no “fault” here at all. But Charlie barrels on, so caught in the maelstrom of negativity in his own head that he doesn’t hear Nick’s words or notice the steps Nick has taken to close the space between them. He says, “I shouldn’t have kissed you,” and Nick stops abruptly, hurt, worried that maybe he got this wrong and Charlie does regret the actual kiss (rather than just the aftermath), briefly questioning the wisdom of narrowing the chasm of both physical and emotional space between them.

But then Charlie’s overthinking and over apologizing—“I bet you just felt pressured to do it because I asked” and “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me ever again"—gives Nick more insight into Charlie’s feelings and state of mind. Charlie is not saying he shouldn’t have kissed Nick because he didn’t want to, but because he fears it has pushed Nick away. He’s saying he cares about Nick so deeply, and their friendship is so important, that he would give up and take back something he wanted if it meant preserving what they had before. He’s saying he feels unworthy of Nick’s interest or attraction, that he believes Nick would never return Charlie’s kiss except out of pity or pressure. In that moment, Nick knows he has to stop Charlie, he has to make Charlie understand that his fears are largely unfounded. The need to close the gap, to get them both back in a safe space of mutual understanding, along with the desire for intentional, meaningful touch, propels Nick the last step toward Charlie. As Charlie says, with only a very little hope in his voice “I at least had to say I’m sorry. See if maybe there’s a chance we can still be friends?” Nick grips Charlie’s upper arms briefly, trying first with a careful, grounding touch to get Charlie to pay attention.

When Charlie seems unable to stop, when he goes on to say, “I don’t want to lose you because I did something stupid,” Nick knows for sure that Charlie has not willingly removed himself from their mutual safe space. He’s still there, waiting for Nick, hoping Nick will return, even if it's only as a friend. Charlie doesn’t realize Nick is already there with him; he never really left. Nick uses both hands, gently but firmly, to hold Charlie’s face and turn it up toward him so Charlie has to look Nick in the eye. He has to pull his focus from his damaging inner monologue and really see Nick.

When he does, he’s still afraid. Even with Nick’s careful, familiar, intentional, highly communicative touch, Charlie can’t quite believe that maybe his negative interpretation of Nick's feelings could be wrong. There’s a long, silent moment of direct eye contact, of reconnection, that must bring back clear memories of the good parts of the night before. Here, Nick is simultaneously checking in with Charlie, making sure the touch is accepted, while also preparing to show Charlie in the clearest, most direct way that Nick has not decided to abandon Charlie. Even if his mind can’t quite make the leap, there’s no way Charlie can miss the decision that Nick makes in this moment, the intentionality behind his next touch. Nick looks down at Charlie’s mouth, frowns in concentration and determination, and presses his fingers tighter against the back of Charlie’s neck, knitting them together as he pulls Charlie toward him with a quick indrawn breath. Unlike their kisses at the party, carefully initiated by Charlie, this one is led by Nick. There’s nothing tentative or fearful about it, and Charlie responds to that confidence, hands gripping Nick’s shirt and rising up on tiptoes to get closer to Nick.

They pull just slightly apart, trying to understand both themselves and each other, trying to reinstate the safe space they’d built together. Nick keeps his hold on Charlie, though it’s a bit looser now, and his shoulders stay up by his ears, curled in toward Charlie, holding onto the moment for a bit longer as he looks intently at Charlie and takes a deep breath followed by a nervous gulp. Not that Nick needed it, but all of his positive feelings while kissing Charlie the night before are reinforced here.

Charlie is watching Nick, as he always does, waiting for his reaction, checking in, all the while wondering what exactly just happened and what it all means. His attempt to verbalize this confusion comes out as “um,” and the question in that sound seems to remind Nick that he still has things he needs to say. He carefully removes his hands from Charlie’s neck and settles back just a bit, giving them both room to breathe and acknowledging that they still have a ways to go in understanding each other completely. Charlie’s eyes rove over Nick’s face, asking all the questions. 

Then Nick, looking distressed, says, “God,” as if he can’t believe what he’s just done, or perhaps that he’s done it without explaining himself first. The word and tone are obviously directed inward, not at Charlie, yet Charlie clearly thinks that Nick’s upset is somehow his fault all over again. This is only confirmed in Charlie’s mind when Nick frowns, shakes his head, and gives an  “I’m so sorry,” before turning away. Charlie’s first, terrified thought is that Nick has once again kissed him out of pity or some other misguided feeling of pressure, and here now must be the moment of retreat for Nick. Charlie watches Nick sit tensely on the edge of his bed, and he waits, allowing the space between them to stretch, not sure, for the moment, what that space means or how wide it actually is. Once again, his hands are clenched, and he’s standing straight, braced.

But then, Nick apologizes for something he did; “I’m just so sorry I ran away last night.” There’s an incredible vulnerability here, as Nick voices what has clearly been gnawing at him the most since the night before, the real reason he ran through the rain without texting first to get to Charlie; running toward Charlie, not away. Though he has so much of his own inner turmoil to deal with, his primary concern is for Charlie’s feelings and the way Nick’s abrupt departure must have affected Charlie. This simple apology, spoken with deep feeling and some eye contact and a lot of introspection, tells Charlie a few things. That Nick does not intend to pull away—he’s here apologizing for exactly that thing—or put distance between them or ignore what happened; that he wanted to stay with Charlie; and that Nick knows Charlie deserves this explanation, this apology (a level of respect Charlie was never given by Ben). Charlie doesn’t relax, exactly—he’s too keyed up for that—but you can see understanding in his eyes.

And here’s where Charlie has to rewire his thinking just a bit. Nick begins sharing and explaining his inner landscape, his worries, concerns, and challenges. “I was just freaking out because I was confused, and surprised, and, like, honestly, I’m having a proper full-on gay crisis.” Contrary to Charlie’s previous experiences with Ben—who deflected, blamed, shamed, and gaslighted Charlie rather than performing any kind of self-examination, conditioning Charlie to expect not only pain and rejection, but emotional inaccessibility as well—Nick is inviting Charlie into his thoughts, reaching through their space of emotional safety and asking Charlie to understand Nick even in the midst of his own confusion, to come back to the solid ground they had before and stand next to him. And Charlie is getting there; he recognizes what Nick is offering with his honesty, and he moves back into the figurative safe space between them. All he's waiting for now is verbal, clear confirmation that the literal space can be crossed as well, that physical touch can be part of their relationship again too, that Nick's confusion and panic aren't directed at Charlie specifically, but instead at the larger implications of his recent self-discovery.

Nick once again gives this confirmation to Charlie with his thoughtful, considered honesty. Remembering Charlie’s guilt vortex, remembering his devastated face when Nick jerked away the night before, Nick moves on to address what he knows has been bothering Charlie the most: “It’s not that I didn’t want to . . . you know . . . kiss you.” This isn’t the easiest thing in the world for Nick to say; there’s physical and emotional effort behind the words. Other than his reactionary "I don’t know" and "maybe" and one quiet "yeah" in the ballroom, Nick hasn’t ever admitted out loud that he’s physically attracted to Charlie. Audibly naming a thing gives it a certain power, an almost tangible reality, and the fact that he chooses to take this step now shows not only that Nick is willing to push the boundaries of his own bravery to put Charlie's mind at ease, but also that Nick believes that the bedrock of trust between himself and Charlie is still there.

He goes on to lay even more of himself bare to Charlie, almost unable to control his emotion, and perhaps, now, unwilling to control it; if he can’t be vulnerable in this respected space with Charlie, when can he be? Now that he's apologized for what he sees as his missteps and given Charlie as much insight as he can, Nick lets himself show Charlie the true depths of his struggles. This is where that space they've nurtured gives Nick a soft place to land; it's where he has room to fully feel and accept his pain and confusion without any fear of judgment or shame, because this is Charlie, and this is the gift Charlie gives the people he loves.

Charlie recognizes how hard this is for Nick—though his personal experience was different, Charlie has felt some of these same things himself—and his deeply ingrained empathy, along with his growing certainty that Nick does not regret kissing Charlie, that Nick's flight was a result of impulse and momentary fear rather than disgust or regret, leads him to at last close the physical distance and sit down next to Nick. Intentionally close, touching shoulders, but nothing else just yet. Lending silent support and showing Nick that Charlie’s in this, too. He understands. He’s not looking away from it. And while Nick's gaze is turned inward at his own turmoil, he doesn’t move away from Charlie’s careful touch; he knows he needs it.

As Nick starts to say “I just think I need some time,” Charlie’s mouth closes and he gives a huge gulp. What is Nick going to say next? Will he ask for time apart? Is this the moment—Charlie's brain suggests, despite all that just happened and all that was just said—that Nick will draw some kind of line and actually pull away? But Nick just says “to figure this out.” He doesn’t ask for space, or a pause, he doesn’t tell Charlie that Charlie isn’t the one he wants to figure it out with. It’s a simple and straightforward statement of intent—he’s going to figure himself out, he’s going to do the emotional work of understanding himself, he’s not running away from it, or, importantly, from Charlie, despite the intensity of his confusion. This must be encouraging for Charlie to hear after his experiences with Ben, and nothing he knows about Nick would give him cause to doubt that Nick will do this.

Still, Charlie knows this will not be easy for Nick, no matter how determined he is, and Charlie’s understanding of Nick’s current pain combined with Charlie’s anticipation of Nick’s future pain morphs into a powerful need to offer comfort. He doesn’t say anything—in this moment, words aren’t what Nick needs—but he firmly and decisively wraps an arm around Nick’s shoulders, fully crossing the intentional touch divide now that his understanding of Nick's feelings is clear, now that he knows that touch will be good for both of them.

This draws Nick back to the surface from the deep well of his thoughts, reminds him that Charlie is there, in their space with him, and when Nick looks back at Charlie, all of that understanding and empathy and deep friendship, all the things that Charlie is so, so good at, are right there on Charlie’s face. And Nick knows he can be himself with Charlie in a way he isn't with anyone else in his life.

The chasm of the night before has been closed.

This isn’t a hug; it’s a sanctuary.

[intrepid-fictioneer-7]

Recent chapters of the underrated Fate spinoff Fate/type Redline got me in my feelings so I had to talk about it at lengths, even moreso now that it hasn't updated in months (the mangaka, Ryouji Hirano, has health problems I believe). Spoilers obviously.

Now, when I call type Redline, "underrated", it's more of a subjective than objective assessment. Despite being a manga and thus far more accessible than the untranslated visual novels or light novel series of TYPE-MOON, I see it discussed fairly rarely. At the very least, as far as I know, there hasn't been much big posts analyzing it, so I believe this should be one of the first.

Just don't expect something really deep, these are mostly my musing, rambling observations.

In fact, for a long time, I didn't really have a well-articulated thought about Redline's themes. The contrast of a Holy Grail War taking place in the middle of a world war simply had me chalk it up to the tried and true "war is hell" and not think any deeper (which was a bit intellectually lazy of me). And there is certainly that, but it's a bit more elaborate than that, or else I wouldn't find Redline as interesting. And it all reached a thematic "climax" of sorts in the recent chapter as of the time of writingé

In reality, the story signaled its central theme from the very start, I just wasn't paying attention. One of the first chapters ends with this page:

At first, I thought this was just about Nobunaga. But it turns out this specific page and its text will become the precursor of how the manga is going to present Servants, and how this presentation fits into its larger representation of what war is.

Something you hear somewhat frequently when people mention Redline is "it made Servants scary again". It is only half true, Servants have usually only been "scary" in specific circumstances (Bluebeard in FZ, True Assassin in FSN, and Jackie in Apo come to mind). What they actually mean is that Redline shows Servants as above human again, and it does so by showing them brutally go through lots and lots of human bodies, when Fate is usually about Servants fighting each other. You see Servants vs. humans sometimes, but it's usually 1v1 deals. The only notable exception I can think of is Clan Calatin against Alcides in strange Fake.

There is also Apocrypha, but they are up against armies of homunculi, golems, and animated skeletons, so the dynamic is a bit different than with modern armies. It does however say this.

Indeed, Lancer of Red could burn to ash and crush the stakes with his flames and divine spear. But the Red camp's odds of successfully opposing the Black camp's overwhelming amount of material resources were fifty-fifty. Fighting a force of twenty thousand was beyond the capacities of even a mighty Heroic Spirit. Even then, there would have been no problems if they were alive, but right now they were Servants. The more they consumed prana in great quantities, the closer they approached death. (Apocrypha volume 2 ch.2)

Which is interesting in light of Redline's story, but I digress.

But here, in Redline, because it's during the Second World War, and members of the military are using Servants to do their bidding as well as planning to use them to win the war, there are a lot of interactions between Servants and modern human armies, usually violent ones, to catastrophic results, as Servants go through lots of human meat like cheese. The picture above is after Oda Nobunaga shoots down an entire fleet of American planes heading to Japan.

It's a type of interactions we only ever really saw when Berserker Lancelot in Zero overtook a JSDF fighter jet to fight Gilgamesh on Vimana, while the other plane got eaten by the Lovecraftian horror Caster summoned. The militarized forces of Faldeus in FsF mostly only go after human mages and steer clear of Servants.

And that makes for an interesting contrast that Redline is all too happy to highlight time and time again. When they say "Servants are scary", they mean "Servants are above human", in every sense of terms. No normal human can harm them or even pose a challenge to them, for they are above human strength and capabilities: they are superhuman, they are inhuman.

And that does not just mean inhuman power, but also inhuman thinking.

One of the main conflict throughline of the manga is the relationship between Kanata Akagi, our main protagonist, and his Servant Okita. They don't clash as such, it's not like Fate route Shirou hindering Saber from doing her job, nor is it like Kiritsugu disregarding Saber. It's more low-key, like a misunderstanding that can never be solved. Okita was a warrior in life, and this Holy Grail War in war-torn Japan is just another battlefield to her. Kanata however was born and raised in a Japan long after the war ended, in more peaceful times where he never had to kill. And it's this fundamental difference in lived experiences and mindset that stops them from ever reaching an understanding about how to approach the war:

Even later, as the war goes on, after Okita almost killed potential allies (more on that later), and Kanata reveals to her he comes from the future and what his goals are (ensure his grandma doesn't die and he can come back), and they decide to have a more honest partnership with each other, it's still not enough.

Because when Okita kills a human soldier again, this time a soldier wounded by Berserker who charged Kanata because he was a Master and he blamed magi for how pear-shaped the whole situation has become, this time she does a 180 and instead of convincing Kanata to become ready to kill, she instead wants him to think of her as his tool to kill in his place and take the burden upon herself:

Kanata can only ask her if she's really fine being a sword to be used by someone else and nothing more, to which she replies that's all she needs.

Do note how completely obscured, borderline blank (save for a small, thin-lipped smile), Okita's face is as she says this. As if Kanata and us readers really can't tell how she actually feels about her own words.

This is not the first time the manga does this with Okita.

Coming back to the almost aborted alliance I mentioned earlier, what happened is that, a few chapter before this, the Rider of this war, Sakamoto Ryouma and Oryou, met with Okita to ask her and her Master for an alliance to stop the war from spiraling further and kill more innocents. It would be normal to be suspicious of their intentions, especially since Ryouma initially hides from her that he is a Servant.

But that's not the reasoning Okita uses to reject the alliance and subsequently attack them:

"There is only one path for me (war)." And here it is again: "She's not human."

And it happened even earlier too. When Servant Assassin (Okada Izou) fights Okita, he grows more and more disturbed as he doesn't feel fear, anger, or exaltation as he fights and cuts her, feeling nothing at all from her aside from the scent of blood. Okada's thoughts are interspersed with Kanata's own thoughts about visiting his dying comatose grandmother in the hospital as a kid. And when Kanata touched his grandmother's hand, just like when Okada faces Okita, all it felt like was that:

As you can see, a lot of emphasis, both textually and visually, that Okita does not feel human, and her way of thinking is so alien people can't comprehend her.

And it's not just her, Servants in general are portrayed this way throughout. You saw the pilot's words about Nobunaga at the start of this post, but it occurs later as well. When she was first summoned in the previous war a few years ago by the Imperial Army, her summoner was an arrogant dude who tried to get her to submit and she casually beheaded him. Following that is this page:

Nothing showing on this blood soaked face except for elongated eyes like those of a monster. And after that, everyone in the room prostrate themselves before her like she is a god they worship.

She picks her Master from the crowd, the half-Japanese girl Kaname Asama, and she treats her surprisingly decently from what we see throughout the manga, giving the shrinking violet of a girl respect like she is her attendant, unlike Kaname's boss Magatsu (more on him later) who threatens her and even hits her.

So you would think they have a cordial relationship? Well, maybe they did, but that was until the recent chapter, which has Magatsu's Berserker fight Lancer, and instead of helping their ally, Nobunaga wants to leave, which leads to this exchange:

The same face and eyes again. Kaname doesn't understand her Servant, nor can she tell what she's thinking, just as Nobunaga's face loses all expression, making it impossible for us to tell as well.

(This is not exactly new in regard to Nobu: Keikenchi, the original author of Koha-Ace and the mind behind Redline, already made a Koha-Ace oneshot previously focusing on her, and in it it was shown that, when she was alive, Nobunaga could not "hear" the voices of other people, other humans, and it's her being unable to understand other people that contributed to both her rise and fall)

Another Servant serving as a good example of this is Berserker, which obviously makes sense when it's the Class that from the very start of the Fate franchise in Fate/stay night was there to be impossible to communicate with. But interestingly, everything that surrounds Berserker, not just the Servant itself, reinforces this theme, as if the story employs irony in making the maddest of them all in a war full of mad people the more in-depth examination of the idea instead of being the most obvious.

But I need to scale back a bit to explain.

The Master of Berserker is Major Magatsu, the head of the Imperial Army's magecraft division and one of the main human antagonist. He is kind of interesting in how it's not just his Servant, but his own actions that act as a fulcrum to demonstrate the point. See, in these last stages where it is clear Japan is going to lose, Magatsu wants to keep the war going. His main goal is that he sees the war as not just for the glory of Japan, but as an opportunity to create a world where mages stand at the top, even planning to orchestrate a secret coup within the Japanese military. He is able to amass a great number of men under him, all fanatically loyal to him due to a mixture of his own charisma and appeal to nationalism as well as cigarettes laced with suggestive tobacco making the soldiers smoking it pliable. His followers are so loyal in fact, that when a team of them comes back defeated after facing a Servant trying to deal with Team Kanata, they beat the only survivor up and torture him for his failure and for failing Magatsu, without Magatsu's knowledge or consent (in fact, he is slightly disturbed by this and thinks to reduce the dosage of the tobacco).

But that doesn't deter him from his tactics. Even when he has to hasten his coup after being forced to when pro-war proponents in the war ministry are assassinated, leading to his enraged troops to blame the proponents of suing for peace within the ministry, he still keeps with the easily pliable and fanatical troops even though it is clear he can barely control them. "When the madman runs, any man not mad starts running" is written on a banner hanging on the wall of the magecraft division's headquarters, and Magatsu, who doesn't know who wrote it, finds it a good quote, not knowing how prophetic the words would become. Regardless, Magatsu has made the entire magecraft division and then some fold under his command by making them believe he will be the hero to save Japan. He makes many speeches about saving the nation and how the preservation of the Empire is vital to the preservation of the soul of the nation, and can easily drive crowds into nationalistic frenzy with talks of using Archer and Berserker to fight on mainland Manchuria, and clearly invoking the spirit of complete sacrifice to the nation like in banzai charges and kamikaze, even if not explicitly:

Sometimes, an ordinary and unrefined person will defeat their fear of death and become a noble person with the resolve to throw away their own lives. This phenomenon, which one could call a miracle, is occuring at this very moment, in various places within Japan. War allows all sorts of miracles to exist.

For these reasons, the Colonel, the so far unnamed high-ranked Nazi who is Magatsu's main ally, praises him for "having a knack for understanding human nature", which is why he gives him Berserker, as he believes that, if he experiences the war from the same position as Servants, Magatsu may be able to come to understand them...especially, as he notes, Magatsu completely failed to have Nobunaga pay him any attention:

Magatsu, for all his charisma and servile attitude, completely fails to have Nobunaga pay him any attention even once since her summoning years ago. When summoned, she ignored him in favor of going to Kasame. She doesn't follow his orders nor does she even acknowledge him as a faithful follower: he might as well be air in her eyes. Not only that, she only talks to his subordinate Kaname Asama, whom he disdains for having foreign blood due to being half-Japanese. And the Colonel rightly realizes that Nobunaga's lack of interest makes him seethe. Magatsu seethes so much in fact that he comes to the conclusion that he doesn't need to understand Servants, especially to win when they don't seem to care what he's they're fighting for, so he would rather settle for Berserker than the unruly Archer, believing he can control him thanks to the Heroic Spirit Restraining Device provided by the Nazis. Very predictably, it goes pretty poorly.

As soon as he's summoned and out of the tank he was put in, Berserker immediately begins to indiscriminately kill soldiers of the magecraft division for no reason, and when Magatsu attempts to use his Command Spells on him, he cuts off his arm and crushes it, making the Command Spells disappear. Berserker then engages in a rampage throughout the magecraft division base, gleefully killing every soldier in his way, yet does not kill his Master despite his failed attempt to restrain him:

Magatsu is unwittingly along for the ride as Berserker carries him in his arms as he goes about his "fun".

Naturally, Magatsu's men try to slow down and stop Berserker using "anti-Servant" weapons (lol) that obviously do jack shit. But they use too much firepower and seemingly ignore Magatsu's cries for help, which leads him to believe that they are trying to kill them both. Berserker agrees in his twisted logic, and enacts more violence as he believes his Master is in danger.

The reality is actually different: when Kaname Asama try to get to exercise more caution so they do not accidentally hit and hurt the Major, when he is clearly an hostage, one soldier slaps her and rebukes her, madly stating that there is no way the savior of Japan would ever get hurt by these weapons.

They keep throwing weapons and men at Berserker, which eventually confuses Magatsu, because weren't they trying to kill him? Why then are they wasting their lives against a Servant?

Which is when the point is made.

As this massacre rages on, Magatsu is telepathically contacted by the Colonel, who congratulates him on summoning Berserker and says that the Restraining Device is working wonderfully saying as the major's mana and life are still intact. Magatsu, enraged, accuses the Colonel of having done something to his men, maybe brainwashing them to kill themselves, which is a fair accusation considering it is the Nazis who did assassinate the war hawks and forced Magatsu to accelerate his coup plans.

Except the Colonel says he had nothing to do with it and the reason for the soldiers' actions is far simpler: they admire Magatsu, they truly, genuinely do. The Colonel explains that his accomplishments, from taking control of the war to making a Servant protect the capital from air raids, made him look like a true messiah in the eyes of his men, and Magatsu was too blind to see it. Of course he denies it and calls the Colonel a liar, until he sees one of his men approach and try to reach him, only to be pierced by Berserker's spear for his troubles, and as he lays dying, Magatsu hears his last words on his bloody lips: "Glory to the Major."

As the one-sided battle against the human waves of martyrs continue, the Colonel throws Magatsu's earlier words about the war "allowing miracles" back to his face, bringing the whole arc to its logical conclusion, and I will transcribe the speech in its entirety since it intersperses scenes of the battle and that's too much images to for this post:

How about you open your eyes to reality for once? The only sane person in that battlefield is you. War is cruel. It burdens its victims with a detestable fate. But look at them. They do it for their country, for you. Their madness calls forth even more madness. All these men rush forward, knowing well only death awaits them. War takes these ordinary men, and turn them into martyrs. War allows all sorts of miracles. I thank you. You've allowed me to witness something beautiful. Did seeing people die finally get to you? Feeling remorse? I suppose you didn't have what it takes to be a soldier. This is no time to be losing your mind, Major. It's not everyday you get to experience war from such a safe position. Revel in it a little more. You are at the center of a miracle. That which creates miracles, and gathers people's faith. What do you call that, Major? Do you know? A God. Congratulations, Messiah. In this exact moment and place, you are the one closest to a God.

Just as the voice of God can't reach mortals, your voice can't reach these men. For alas, there are none who can hear it. Raise your head, Major. The curtain has fallen at last. And you should now be able to understand her a little more.

Archer arrives, looking down at Berserker and Magatsu standing on the mountain of corpses of all the men of the magecraft division, and Magatsu tries one last time to get her to look at him by calling for her help, as all he ever wanted was to prove he was worthy to stand at her side...and she laughs in his face. She mocks him for thinking he could ever control a Servant and finds his tear-stained and snotty face hilarious.

And Magatsu, at this last straw after everything, breaks.

As he begins to laugh maniacally, his Servant joins in, and as Archer, Berserker, and him laugh, it's as if the corpses of his men, their mouth frozen in bloody leering rictus by rigor mortis, are laughing with them. Magatsu finally realizes it was wrong to think to use Servants in a war, because they could never be measured by human standards.

It's not that Servants can't be understood, not solely. This sequence of chapters shows it goes deeper than that: it's war that turns everyone mad, and thus makes understanding impossible among humans. And Servants are humanity writ large, the highest of the high and the lowest of the low, because you need to be larger than life to be remembered for eternity in the Throne of Heroes. Which means that, where war turns humans into mad monsters, it makes the Heroic Spirits standing above humans into the embodiments, the apotheosis, the personified concepts of madness.

They are mad gods.

The World War and the Holy Grail War are both founts of insanity, because that's what war does. The average soldier's brain briefly brushes with the eternal sublime, the mysterium tremendum et fascinans that turns humans into figures of worship recorded and enthroned for eternity beyond space and time. And this brief contact with the Absolute gives them the divine language that makes them unintelligible to other men. Their visages, like Moses' after descending the mountain, can no longer be looked upon. They are completely obscured to us who don't live and breathe for war, for violence is their domain now.

War makes Berserkers of us all.

Is it any wonder that the Classes of the Holy Grail War by design favor warriors and warmongers? This war is rife with adepts of violence: a warlord (Nobunaga), a warrior (Mori), a secret police assassin (Okita), a plain assassin (Okada), and a martial artist (Li Shuwen). All of which mad in their own way and choosing the path of violence over any other options.

And I don't think it's a coincidence that the sanest and most "normal" Servants we have seen in Redline not only belong to the Classes less obviously about violence or weaponry, Rider and Caster, but their identities are also not famous for violence: the Rider was a politician and diplomat, while the Caster is a scientific thought experiment about the laws of physics.

I don't know how this will conclude or shake out, but I have my suspicions. Our protagonist Kanata comes from the peaceful post-war Japan and has so far always been repulsed by violence, despite attempts by his Servant and his grandmother to get him to get used to it to be more effective in the war. In fact, he reaffirms that he wants to win the war without becoming a remorseless bloodthirsty killer.

I can see potential routes the story can take depending on whether he slowly succumbs to war's madness or he heroically resists its call. Especially if he is pitted against what seems to be one of the main antagonists, the Nazi Colonel, clearly war's most fervent prophet, whose face is always obscured.

We'll see. The latest chapter as of the time of writing is the fight between Lancer and Berserker. Even the pair that seems to get along the best, Team Lancer, has the Master threatened by her Servant for almost "interrupting" his fight by trying to heal his wounds. And her (current) last words are a perfect encapsulation of the manga and my whole thesis:

[the-badger-mole]

But FWIENDSHIP!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Okay, so you all know how I get when something gets stuck in my head, but yesterday I saw a post talking about how Katara and Zuko's potential romance messes with their friendship, and I don't understand how, but that's beside the point. This is an anti-Kataang post.

I will once again admit that I don't spend a ton of time in Kataang/anti-Zutara spaces (cause I'm respectful like that), but every so often, I see one of those takes pop up in my safe area (because respect isn't always a two way street, unfortunately). It's interesting to see how many times this take seems to crop up. Katara and Zuko falling in love would ruin their friendship, yet those same people fail to acknowledge that Bryke went ahead and ruined their friendship anyway out of jealousy. These same people also tend to hold Kataang as a prime example of Friends to Lovers, the only problem is, Aang isn't Katara's friend at any point.

Throughout the series, it's made very clear that Aang likes Katara, but for most of the series (until literally the last few seconds, in fact) it's also clear that Katara only sees him as a friend. This should have been an object lesson that sometimes crushes don't work out, but friendship can be stronger than temporarily disappointed feelings. However, that's not what we get. Aang doesn't care about Katara's friendship. He doesn't want Katara in his life unless it's in a romantic capacity. We see it in how he reacts when he feels romantically rejected (lava fissure, EIP). The narrative doesn't give Katara any space to say no to Aang without it permanently damaging their relationship, because they never had the relationship Katara thought they did. Katara thought she was Aang's friend, but for Aang, their 'friendship' was just a precursor to romance. In this, the year 2023, I know we all understand why this is a problem.

Aang can't even conceive of a world where Katara does turn him down. He dreams about her enthusiastic response to his declaration of love; he assumes that since they kissed he kissed her and staked his claim, they should be together, despite there never being any sort of conversation, and the fact that the one time he did try to talk about it, she changed the subject very quickly. Katara's feelings are an afterthought for Aang, which is terrible for any relationship, but particularly in a romantic one. There is never a moment where Aang puts Katara's emotional needs ahead of his own. He never puts a value on her platonic friendship. There's never a moment where he decides that despite his feelings for her, having Katara in his life as a friend is better than not having her at all. That moment should have happened regardless of whether they ended up together or not, because friendship is the most important component of the Friends to Lovers trope.

By comparison, the friendship Katara eventually forms with Zuko is much deeper, and based on a mutual respect, understanding and emotional support for each other. This is a fantastic foundation for a romance, although bafflingly, people who laud Katara and Zuko's deep friendship don't seem to agree. Them potentially falling in love doesn't cheapen their friendship because they actually were friends first. On top of that, their Enemies to Friends journey ending romantically would not only not cheapen their friendship, it would tie into the themes of the show beautifully (the illusion of separation; love being stronger than hate; learning to respect other people's differences etc).

Let's be real, what Kataang actually represents is The Hero Gets the Girl, and I think deep down we all know that, even the ones calling it Friends to Lovers. In the Hero Gets the Girl trope, the Girl in question doesn't really matter. She's less of a romantic partner and more a prize for the Hero saving the day. Her emotional journey to falling for the Hero mostly plays out off screen, even though she may not have even liked the Hero like that initially, and the hero doesn't ever show that he respects her as a person. For the most part it works (arguably) because the Girl isn't a character in her own right, she's just part of the Hero's story. The reason it doesn't work with Kataang is that Katara is a character. She does have her own journey, and as passionate and outspoken as she is in pretty much every other aspect of her life, it doesn't make sense for her journey to falling for Aang takes place largely off screen. Not unless you understand how little Katara's feelings matter to their relationship. Had Katara actually rejected Aang, their friendship would have ended because Aang was never interested in her friendship.

It's interesting to me to see people who claim to value friendship over romance spend more time complaining about a romance that isn't canon over the actual canon ship that really does cheapen the friendship. But then again, I guess that was never the problem in the first place.

[tanoraqui]

continuation of this, though not necessarily immediate, and in fact precursor to this. If I write enough parts of the events of this night, eventually it'll coalesce into a coherent fic, right?

Fëanor slammed down the now-empty goblet of his latest rightfully earned apology drink, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his latest apologizee, across the table. His vision was wavering around the edges, after most of a bottle of this rich Maiaran vintage all on his own (the table overall was halfway through the third). But the day he was too drunk to glare suspiciously at his half-brother was the day he'd return to Mandos for a neighborly cup of tea.

"Why art thou being so nice to me?" Fëanor demanded. His diction was still crisp, though he could admit that his vocabulary was wavering across millennia.

Fingolfin, not a few cups in himself, rested his chin in his palms and stared back at him with cow-eyed contemplation.

"Am I being nice to you?" he asked philosophically.

"Never mind," Fëanor grumbled. "Now I want to punch you in the face again. Normalcy hast resumed."

"I guess I have been," Fingolfin continued musing as though Fëanor hadn’t spoken. He seemed to be looking straight through Fëanor's head, with those big grey eyes so frustratingly like their father's. "I suppose it's just difficult to be as harsh as I used to be, when I feel like I understand you so well, brother."

Fëanor recoiled upright.

"You know nothing of me." he hissed. (Though he did feel a bit like a petulant half-century to speak so.)

"Don't I?"

Fingolfin looked at him now, with terrible sympathy.

"Did you not hold yourself responsible for the deaths of thousands, including countless loved ones—countless save that you could never not keep count—indeed, do you not still, as you've admitted this night? Did you not race forward alone to challenge the Enemy, confident if not in your victory, then at least in that nobody else had as much of a chance, and if you could end even just your own suffering, it would be worth it? Did you not die in an apogee of burning wrath and utter, utterly helpless despair?"

Carried forward the strength of Fingolfin’s speech, by the currents of wine and truth both flowing so richly this night, and by his own damn vow to do better this time, Fëanor muttered, "I deny none of it."

Fingolfin opened one hand, palm up, to say, Well? Look at me. He raised his chin, for once not contrarily proud, just casting into the lamplight the scars of a crushed neck, which lingered even in this re-incarnated form.

Fëanor reached forward and shoved the third wine bottle toward him, as well-earned tribute and because remembering one's death wasn't pleasant for anyone. Especially when one did so just to disarm querulous kin.

Arafinwë and the girls, thank Eru, were off on the sofa pretending to be absorbed by a new picture of whatever iteration of great-grandchild Arafinwë's eldest's descendants had spawned now. Habit (and the need for a change of topic) made Fëanor think sourly of how he'd lost that contest, too—though, to be perfectly honest, he'd lost that one when the Trees still shone, when exactly one of his seven children showed any interest in having their own.

Still, sour it was. He swiped the remedy of the evening back from Fingolfin and pour himself another goblet, burning and sweet.

[prolix-yuy]

happy bang-a-thon babe! i am thrilled to announce the wheel blessed me with the perfect position for who i had in mind - kneeling reach around, pretty please, with our double agents marcus & whiskey? 😇

Awwww our sweet Double Agents! What a good way to start off the bangathon, especially during Pride!

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x Marcus Pike

Position: Kneeling Reach-Around

Word Count: 834

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, mlm, anal sex, handjobs, unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), Jack's filthy mouth.

Notes: A prequel of sorts to Two Truths and a Lie.

He is soft with Jack, and Jack in turn is rough with him.

Marcus needs it, the melting into bliss without words battering inside his skull. The passive acceptance of love is too hard for him without strong hands, teeth just shy of pain, and Jack’s thick cock splitting him open. 

Jack has him on his knees, leaning back on his chest as he strokes Marcus’ cock in time with his shallow thrusts. Marcus can’t tell what time it is, or how long Jack has been bringing him to the edge before pulling back. Nothing hurts; in fact, despite the power and strength that Jack uses to take him apart, it rarely hurts Marcus. He’s liquid and juddery, his slack mouth open against Jack’s jaw as he coos praise at how good Marcus is being. 

In return for giving his body over completely, Marcus is soft with Jack. He tells him how beautiful he is, how kind and sexy. He kisses Jack soft and slow when he least expects it, which might have been the precursor to where they are now. He reaches out his hand to hold, always, and even when it was hard for Jack to first take it, it’s all worth how perfect it fits.

“Jack, I want you to cum in me,” Marcus pants, backing up a little more forcefully against Jack’s smooth motions, burying him deeper inside. Jack’s breath catches momentarily before he chuckles, turning his head to capture Marcus’ lips.

“Feeling close, my good boy?” Jack murmurs into Marcus’ mouth, a smile quirking against his lips when it’s clear how those three words hardened Marcus even further.

“Please,” Marcus whispers, fingers slipping into Jack’s hair and pulling him in for a messy kiss. Jack indulges him, tongue thick and domineering in Marcus’ mouth, before he stops moving altogether. 

“You know I cum best when you take the lead, sweet boy. Fuck yourself on me,” Jack orders, stilling his hips against Marcus’ ass and cirling his hand tight around his cock. Marcus doesn’t need further direction; he thrusts up into Jack’s curled fingers, then back to spear himself on his cock. A frantic humping that has Jack burying his face in Marcus’ neck as he lets the friction and heat and the gorgeous sweat he licks into his mouth drive him up the mountain with his lover.

“So good for me, Marcus, so so good. Can barely hold on when you’re riding me like this. Gonna cum with me, baby boy?” The ragged whines Marcus chokes out drives Jack to thrust up on Marcus’ downstroke, one hand on his narrow hip. Marcus garbles out a wild sound, bucking back against Jack as he pumps inside him. Jack’s thick fingers expertly slide over Marcus’ weeping cock, all rhythm and sense lost as they slam into each other and chase that elusive high of cumming together. 

“I’m there,” Marcus gasps weakly, the clench of his body throwing Jack over the edge as ropes of hot cum paint both their thighs. Jack’s coats Marcus’ insides, the possessive heat of marking and being marked keeping Jack hard long enough to nudge Marcus through the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

“Good job, baby,” Jack pants, kissing Marcus’ cheek as he eases out of his ass. He guides Marcus down to his belly, a contented sigh making Jack smile. 

Jack loves to be soft with Marcus after he’s been a little rough with him. 

Some days his hands don’t know how to hold without crushing, or how to soothe without domineering. Marcus sees that struggle and still holds his own out, even after the times when he comes away hurting. He put Jack’s hand around his throat and told him he knew he’d never squeeze. Put his hand against his cheek and said he knew Jack would never harm him. And then when he spent the better part of a night touching Jack with those kind and careful hands, he said he knew there was something gentle and gorgeous under all the barbs and bravado.

But Marcus likes the roughness too. 

It’s the way that they both quiet each other’s minds with grips and bites and twists. The pain that blossoms into pleasure. And then these moments, Jack wiping his cum up from between Marcus’ cheeks when the urge to kiss his spine takes over. He knows his mustache tickles, will make Marcus huff and squirm, but he still takes his time moving up each knob to cover him.

“You gotta stop being such a good kisser, darlin’, I’m not a strong-willed man,” he chuckles into Marcus’ ear, the tangle of twisting around to wrap Jack in his arms just as endearing. The boyish smile softens into a fond one, stroking his thumb along Jack’s cheek. 

They’ve found each others’ jagged edges and delighted in the sharpness, but in the moments after they relish in aging tummies pressed together, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of eyes, and two hearts pressed close.

Rough.

Soft.

And enduring.

END

LJ's Bangathon 2023

[dainesanddaffodils]

okay so I think I have maybe like 2 mutuals who are ffxiv enthusiasts, but I gotta yell into the void about my warrior of light and the fact that, in true oc fashion, she went and did her own thing without my consent and now I gotta deal with all the feelings it is giving me

so, my partner finished endwalker last year and Had Many Emotions about it and afterword I said, sure, put me in Character Creation For Fun I Won't Do Anything About It

but then I made a cute little Au Ra and named her Cimorene to reference my fav childhood book series and I was like, oh no I love her I guess I'll have to put her through The Trauma that is this whole game

(I know there is much trauma, again, because I witnessed my partner finishing endwalker and she also would tell me things about what was going on, vague enough - and long ago enough - that I'm not like SUPER spoiled on what I have ahead of me, but like, enough that I know shit is Sad)

but ANYWAY I was still pretty casual about this because, friends, I am not a Gamer. The last game I played, that wasn't a Mariokart/Mario Party/Smash that I've played at a friend's house, was like... on my family game cube 15+ years ago. I want to be a gamer but my brain can't find time for it... until now

so I'm casually trucking along through a realm reborn doin my little white mage quests and meeting the characters my partner has cried about, especially this one guy called thancred - of whom I had heard quite a lot about and my brain had already decided, I want that one.

(he's voiced by Taliesin Jaffe at first, he's a pretty white haired anime boy with trauma, he's got horrible coping mechanisms, what was I supposed to do? to quote Richard Gansey, "Crushed and Broken, just the way women like 'em")

so that was like in the back of my mind because obviously my little baby wol has to go through a lot and he has to go through a lot (most of which I am well aware of) before that's going to take off and even then I already imagine it's going to be a sort of background tension they refuse to actually speak on but both just Know for like, ever (yes my favorite ship is Roy and Riza from FMA why do you ask)

but then I'm like a little over halfway through this first installment and a bunch of awful things happen to my baby for the first time and I'm kinda invested in how she's having a kind of terrible time and the first group of people she'd felt some kind of belonging with are in danger and she feels lost and helpless -

and my partner is sitting next to me watching me play and starts getting excited about the fact that I'm close to meeting another character

that character is haurchefant

and I had never heard them talk about him before so I didn't really know who he was, but he's the first person to be genuinely kind to my warrior after several very bad days. they're in a fortress in an eternal winter and he's still the warmest person she's met in a very long time...

and I thought, oh that's so nice I'm glad she got someone in her corner now after all that shit, anyway moving on

but then, like for the following few days I kept. thinking about it. about how much that would have meant to her, about how lonely she had been feeling before meeting him and how, now that she's found that, she kind of just, wants to be around him

and it hit me that, without my own consent on it, Cimorene had said, I want that one.

so now I have to deal with my baby's first love (which, judging by my partner and her friends reactions when I told all of this to them, is going to be a fucking tragic first love) when I hadn't expected to deal with that at all and now I'm like really really invested in this dumb game

(this got way longer than expected, I just had to Yell. also this is probably a precursor for things to come. I may be reblogging Final Fantasies up in here before long)

[aois-amaterasu-painting]

Black B- PASS- Special Issue - The GazettE - NINTH Reference book - (part 2 - song comments & lyrics translations)

1. 99.999

Uruha: "This time, since it's our ninth album, we wanted to make it a culmination of everything we've done so far. We wanted the SE (sound effects) to convey that as well, so we incorporated sounds from the SEs used in the past eight albums in a way that's noticeable. It was quite a challenge to collect all the past SEs, cut out recognizable parts from each, like 'DISORDER' from the album 'DISORDER', and blend them in without breaking the harmony. Overall, we aimed for an industrial sound that might be harsh to the ears when listening casually but would really elevate the mood during live performances."

2. Falling

Ruki: "We had already decided to make a music video for this song, so I had a specific tempo in mind from the start. The song was created with the visuals in mind. I told the video production team that I wanted to show a car crashing and being destroyed, and we developed the story from there. Initially, the plan was for a burning car to fall, but that was deemed difficult. We only make a music video once every three years, so I thought it would be fine to go all out this time (laughs). So I expressed my hope for the highest possible budget from the start. In reality, the costs were more about the three days spent filming rather than the car itself. Watching the car burn, I wondered, 'What are we even filming here?' (laughs)."

.

Falling: lyrics translation

Since how long Do you know how long it’s been? Together, let’s leap into the depths of chaos now so we can become intertwined Falling down Deep in to the dark

Distorted screams unraveling the past; I’m losing my Mind I covered my weary eyes Stuck in my head the ghosts of my past haunt me and drive me mad Where did I come from?

In those swirling depths, my thoughts may be an escalating contradiction but In those swirling depths, my thoughts are the cherished shadow of my former self

Scream if you can’t handle the crushing weight of rejection Suffer now that you’ve seen what you were like back when you’d lost yourself

We just believe in ourselves to die I know you were the same Together, embracing the same pain we’ll break It’s all right if we smash to pieces and scatter To be reborn again I’m gonna fall

Distorted screams unraveling the past; I’m losing my Mind I covered my weary eyes Stuck in my head  this shrill, noisy racket

Inside me Something’s changing I see an ending Take it all in I’m gonna fall

I watch the sadness slowly disappear

We just believe in ourselves to die I know you were the same Together, embracing the same pain: it’s only temporary Don’t forget that this is not the end So come on, let’s open our eyes and fall

We just believe in ourselves to die

Sometimes it’s okay to be broken

...

3. NINTH ODD SMELL

Ruki: "This song was created around the same time as 'Falling', so they feel like two parts of a whole. This song went through four transformations before it was completed, and the fourth version felt just right. I wanted a really good guitar riff. It combines elements that evoke Nickelback, the generation of Skid Row, and our own generation's nu-metal influences. Next, we added visual kei elements. I think it will work well live, and it feels like a song that truly represents the recent sound of the GazettE."

.

NINTH ODD SMELL: lyrics translation

This soul can never die

First 「disorder」 is an ignorant blade Heresy raising its middle finger in rebellion

Reverberation running rampant heading towards the ninth stair of desire Second 「nil」 the future that tore through the darkness Nameless lights

The grim precursor soon becomes Stacked up, wriggling Rubbish

Draped in crimson despair crawling from the murky depths A tower of fear and doubt looks down upon the world

Poison gripping your voice as the days jumble around you Your heart painfully being sliced to shreds Exhilarating in the feeling of destruction Filled with strange distortions You fight your way to the 13th stair So embrace the black black black darkness

[Die] We fucking never die This soul can never die We fucking never die Can’t never die

Both hands spread wide take one finger away Moving towards the end But, still partially entangled, you’re held back from flying

And now here, joined together It's figure has taken shape Ninth: “The proof that we lived”

Until it melts and scatters Melting my rusted heart Our clamoring voices may reach their breaking point But we won’t stop as long as we can impact you So take it, take it, take it, take it

[Die] We fucking never die This soul can never die We fucking never die Can’t ever LIE [Die] We fucking never die This soul can never die We fucking never die I won’t ever lie

Worship the idol Inside me

...

4. GUSH

Reita: "The song has a rough feel and isn't the type to exert pressure. I think it's necessary to have a song like this on an album—neither too intense nor too quiet, but something that gets your body moving. It's similar to 'INSIDE BEAST' in that it's not particularly difficult and serves as a good warm-up at the start of a live show. The chorus also warms up the vocal cords. I imagine it being more suited for the early part of a live performance rather than later."

.

GUSH: lyrics translation

The thing that’s reflected in my eyes is A widescreen puppet But I wonder if you’re actually something more You’ve adapted to feeling out of place By wearing the world’s view of Normal Spouting out whatever you think they want to hear

Gush over  you made good use of your eyes Gush over  since you’re being judged by their rules Gush over  when you turn to face them, they’re dazzled Gush over [they offer you] mindless wild applause

This high-end [life] is lively Compared to the one you had before But the impressive illusion is crumbling The uninspired solution of most of the world is just to Buzz Swarming to gather the sweet nectar [you provide]

Gush over  you turned and lavished them with your Vogue performance Gush over  they’d devour it even if it wasn’t allowed Gush over  with an adoring look in their eyes Gush over  [offering] mindless wild applause

Today you’re adrift, alone, in a swamp that can’t be completely disguised Your celebrity is only the illusion of breaking free and escaping to beauty

Your crumbling illusion is Dope

Gush over  you turned and lavished them with your Vogue performance Gush over  they’d devour it even if it wasn’t allowed Gush over  with an adoring look in their eyes Gush over  [offering] mindless wild applause Gush over  you made good use of your eyes Gush over  since you’re judged by their rules Gush over  when you turn to face them, they’re dazzled Gush over  [they offer you] mindless wild applause

Today you’re still alone in the swamp that can’t be completely disguised Despite that, you still seem like a decent person No matter what popular opinion may say

...

5. THE MORTAL

Uruha: "When I created this song, I was inspired by the theme of AI and a mechanical worldview, giving it a bit of a sci-fi feel. Choosing the sounds was smooth. We included inorganic voice-like sounds throughout, adding a subliminal sense of lifelessness to complete the track."

.

THE MORTAL: lyrics translation

She’s gone Cross a red line A quiet night That moment is pushed away What did you live for?

Lie on the color of sin Indistinct impurities sink to the bottom

She’s gone Cross a red line The remnants left in those hands

Laughing with innocent dead bodies and circling lies The hollowed personality, sculpted in superficiality Ugliness, ferocity, insanity, farce All around, the sound of bells Fills the air with contradiction and fades away

In hell Endless sorrow Unceasing pain that cannot be shed [One final] breath as I die, sinking down There is no answer

[She’s gone]

The day even laughter was stolen

In hell Endless sorrow Unceasing pain that cannot be shed [One final] breath as I die, sinking down There is no answer

...

6. Utsusemi (虚蜩; "Emptiness")

Aoi: "Utsusemi comes before Sonokoe wa moroku, serving as a bridge. It's not a transitional track, but it carries meaning in that context. This album must have been challenging for Ruki to create. Considering that, he placed Utsusemi in the best spot. Initially, I felt this song left a faint impression. We couldn't listen to the album in its final order until the very end. I kept wondering about Utsusemi, but when I finally listened to the album in sequence, it made sense."

.

Utsusemi: lyrics translation

I can't go back anymore No matter how many times the sun sets Even if I am burned by the dawn There is nothing left but this vow

If my wishes overflow, it hurts Can you make me forget somehow? Will I always remember nights like these?

Embracing sadness, in a dream-like state Scattered by the wind Even my reason to live I look for the pieces that I can’t pick up There’re only traces of you

Even if by enduring these wounds I knew I could see “the future” I still wouldn’t be able to smile I’m wasting away remembering My heart is unable to escape I’m simply blank Wordlessly they begin to fall These tears of guilt that flow I say farewell to you At the depths of the revolving lantern Every time I remember, I want to disappear

Alone, when the evening cicadas cease their cries And so I watch the reddening sky Trapped in a cage my love can’t reach [you]

Embracing sorrow, dissipating Even the endured days Barely resonate With the distant voice that encircles pain

Don't cry, it's over now The cicada shell that fell upon the sand was profoundly sad So very much like me

...

7. Sonokoe wa moroku (その声は脆く; "That Voice Is Brittle")

Aoi: "This song feels like it captures the delicate aspects of the GazettE. While the GazettE is often associated with intensity and rawness, there's also a delicate side to us. Creating a ballad best-of album reminded us of the beauty of these kinds of songs. Everyone carefully crafted their instrument approaches and the atmosphere of the sounds. It's a song that aims to captivate without being overly forceful, maintaining the unique feel of the GazettE."

.

Sonokoe wa moroku: lyrics translation

I’ve lost sight of “someday” Alone to the bitter end Weakness and sadness fill my heart Always more fragile than anyone else’s

Hey is there an end When will the grief disappear? If it hadn’t been for the promise we made that I couldn’t keep Maybe I could smile

What’s the use I can’t find it Who am [I trying] for I’m broken I’m just drowning in my dreams I can’t even see myself now

Pain piles on I’m pretending when I say that I’m not lonely I can’t hide the feeling of desolation and close my eyes Your words just…

Hey Is there an end When will the grief disappear If it hadn’t been for the promise we made that I couldn’t keep Maybe I could smile

“I want to be strong” My hope is that tomorrow will bloom with you

Hey Is there an end Sorrow isn’t eternal May the fragility I can’t hide Be just like this song

Pain piles on Worn out Too many years to count When I remember I want to be able to smile again

...

8. BABYLON'S TABOO

Uruha: "I want people to experience the world we created. I used various methods to bring my envisioned image to life. In the album, this song holds a similar position to '13STAIRS[-]1' from the past. It's a song that gradually builds up but retains a dark atmosphere. I'm satisfied that I could express my own unique 'darkness' rather than typical gothic or horror vibes."

.

BABYLON’S TABOO: lyrics translation

Spill it all Laughing at the forsaken in the vicinity What those eyes saw Was a feast discarding the weak

Sinister persecution Babylon’s Taboo Oppressed and uncertain, they remain bystanders. 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」* Are you testing me?

「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Sinister persecution Babylon’s Taboo Oppressed and uncertain, they remain bystanders. 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Are you testing me? 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」

The glaring fiction and lies, Flickering in pitch black beauty. Reflecting murkiness, even the depths of the depths Fate I accept

This is Babylon’s taboo

Observing black eyes I can’t forget this humiliation Black eyes looking down [on you] I fucking can’t forget this day

In vain Even sanity has become uncertain This is a curse In vain Even releasing hatred feels uncertain. My curse

The glaring fiction and lies, Flickering in pitch black beauty. Reflecting murkiness, even the depths of the depths Fate I accept This is Babylon’s taboo

Observing black eyes I can’t forget this humiliation Black eyes looking down [on you] I fucking can’t forget this day

Sinister persecution Babylon’s Taboo Oppressed and uncertain, they remain bystanders. 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Are you testing me?

「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Sinister persecution Babylon’s Taboo Oppressed and uncertain, they remain bystanders. 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」 Are you testing me? 「ADE DUE DAMBALLA」  My curse

*In the "Child's Play" series, the phrase "Ade Du Damballa" is a voodoo chant meaning "Give me the power, I beg of you!" It is used for the supernatural transfer of a soul into a doll, transforming an innocent doll into the malevolent Chucky. This chant is central to the series' theme of combining human evil with the guise of a child's toy, driving its horror narrative. Damballa is a loa in Haitian Vodou, although "Ade Du Damballa" chant is fictional.

...

9. Uragiru bero (裏切る舌; "Traitorous Tongue")

Kai: "I think people of our generation will feel a sense of nostalgia when they listen to this song. It touches on a nostalgic feel that we've experienced. I'm curious how the younger generation, who might not be familiar with this nostalgia, will perceive it. Will they find it new? As for 'reverse diving' (a concert move), 'headbanging' has been mainstream, but I wonder how many young people understand 'reverse diving' these days."

.

Traitorous Tongue: lyrics translation

Daft’Back stabber’

I was drowning [in a sea of] viciousness stretching as far as the eye can see The last trick was the smile you saw that day

That face contorting into a twisted, grotesque expression is just…

[Daft’Back stabber’]

Am I still smiling? Tangled in a web of spite I fall into the trap of writing and rewriting, over and over again

[Daft’Back stabber’]

Are they all [just] an imitation of God? I don’t even have a tongue to bite off

Even when I wish for death, my dream doesn’t die my immense dream

I can’t hide the fact that [my dream] is just one big naïve joke

So we fall because of our mistakes, [but] 「We won’t die」

I can’t envision perfection based on my inexperience Even now, [nothing but] dull superficialities fall from Your tongue that just keeps on wagging Cultivated by your offenses

[Daft’Back stabber’]

Am I still smiling? Tangled in a web of spite I fall into the trap of writing and rewriting, over and over again

[Daft’Back stabber’]

Are they all [just] an imitation of God? I don’t even have a tongue to bite off

Even when I wish for death, my dream doesn’t die my immense dream Before long the remnants of time will reduce you to a crazy mess of loneliness, choking on your own tears

So we fall because of our mistakes, [but] 「We won’t die」

...

10. TWO OF A KIND

Kai: "To me, this is the most GazettE-like song on the album. It embodies the essence of the GazettE after absorbing various influences. The way the key changes and the overall structure is surprising and has a quirky feel. The part where the A-melody features a four-on-the-floor rhythm is a playful touch that feels very GazettE. Other bands might take a different direction, but this playfulness is our style."

.

TWO OF A KIND: lyrics translation

Scenes flash through my mind, Merging with you, my kindred soul Negative feelings that I can’t wipe out Vividly begin to throb.

Scenes flash through my mind, Merging with you, my beloved. Negative feelings that I can’t wipe out, Resurface as if resurrected

Falling and then exploding—the filthy me. Falling and then exploding—the filthy voice.

Will these wounds from youth, forgotten yet remembered, Heal when we open our hearts to each other?

Now I understand that righteousness is meaningless Two of a kind souls, knowing the same pain Seemingly destined, they intertwined

Within our reach, endlessly Pure and unclouded tomorrow awaits Each time we shared our scars, the future we saw Seemed to sway almost as if dancing

This pain is given by fate

Scenes flash through my mind, merging with you, my kindred soul Negative feelings that I can’t wipe out vividly begin to throb. Scenes flash through my mind, merging with you, my beloved. Negative feelings that I can’t wipe out, resurface as if resurrected

Falling and then exploding—the filthy me. Falling and then exploding—the filthy voice.

You are the reason for samsara—my only light. Two of a kind souls, knowing the same pain Seemingly destined, they intertwined

Within our reach, endlessly Awaits an unclouded tomorrow Each time we shared our scars, the future we saw Was illuminated by our dreams Vast and endlessly blue With our hearts joined as one Forever remaining unblemished

...

11. ABHOR GOD

Reita: "This is a notable song (refer to the band interview for more details). I think it will be the easiest song to get into during live performances, reaching the peak of excitement at the end. Whether we can share this feeling with fans will only be known after performing live, but I hope we can somehow make it happen (laughs). There were many keywords—fun, easy to get into, a bit intense, not too dark, and not too exhausting for the ears. It was a challenge, but we finished the song the night before recording the drums."

.

ABHOR GOD: lyrics translation

It seems this Light is being stolen away from me The Glow reveals the secrets written here Good bye Before regret begins to spread even more Let’s raise a toast [to the] Goat

Maze, God, Devil, My life As I’m crawling up from the bottom My song of victory rings out

Kill off My lust my pride My anxiety over and over again [My lust my pride My anxiety yeah]

[Come on]

I strung up my quivering, trembling nightmares TOO FAST TO LIVE, TOO YOUNG TO DIE I swear by the beat bursting my eardrums that I can still do it TOO FAST TO DIE

[Malformed] Malformed imperfect world

Kill off My lust my pride My anxiety over and over again [My lust my pride My anxiety yeah]

[Come on]

I strung up my quivering, trembling nightmares TOO FAST TO LIVE, TOO YOUNG TO DIE I swear by the beat bursting my eardrums  that I can still do it It won’t end I even strung up my quivering, trembling God TOO FAST TO LIVE, TOO YOUNG TO DIE I swear by the beat now [fading] to embers that I can still do it TOO FAST TO DIE

My song of victory rings out: My life It’s my life

...

12. UNFINISHED

Ruki: "I love melodic songs, so this came naturally. However, it was only possible after 'DOGMA'. If we had been asked to release this after 'SHIVER', it would have been impossible. I restrained myself from making the structure too complex. The members advised against key changes and abrupt drops, which I tend to do. It was initially bright but gradually turned minor (laughs). It's a straightforward song, making it a bit challenging, repeating the chorus, and avoiding the impression of laziness. But this approach was due to the influence of 'DOGMA'."

.

UNFINISHED: lyrics translation

These shaky words I’ve crossed out so many times Will never be enough to fill my broken days So I engraved into my heart The value of your confidence and Your complete faith in me

You always put up with my tears And at the same time walked alongside me

I will take your precious hand And show you something more than dreams Together, we’ll take my silent wish into the future You have my word

I gather together [and treasure] these passing days And pour out all the love I have So keep believing in me completely I’ll stitch into my heart The reason for your faith in me

During that time when I ran away You were the light that shined on the path I took I can’t even tell you in words How many times you’ve saved this heart

I will take your precious hand And show you something more than dreams Together, we’ll take my silent wish into the future You have my word

Countless times I held tight to my hopes I want to show you the future

I take that hand and now we begin to walk

Until we finally reach eternity My fervent wish is to keep heading towards the future with you That will never change Since you are the reason I’m alive

All scans are from The Archive (rad-is-more) Interview translation is ChatGPT. Lyrics translations are Defective Tragedy Blog but I changed The Mortal, Utsusemi and Two of a Kind lyrics translations quite a bit. Babylon's taboo was a nightmare because I know the lyrics are wrong on the DT blog but idk how to actually translate it properly, but I used these blogs translations also ( 1 , 2 ), basicly I was looking at 6 different translations picking the best lines .... but the only thing I'm certain of is the dorodoro line... However after hours of breaking my brain trying to solve this I got an epiphany that these lyrics are about the black eyes that reflect both the black murky depths of his soul as well as observing the society at large... something like that

[toriafiction]

Flowers For My Love

One of my Dick /Jason wips. This one just won't get out of my head recently.

It's a soulmate hanahaki fic. 🌸

Check tags for possible tw / cw

Dick has known since Jason was Robin that they are soulmates. Jason didn't know because, at that time, he was too young for the bond to wake on his end, and Dick didn't tell anyone because he didn't want anyone or anything to influence Jason.

He's still a kid and he deserves to explore who he is and what he likes and have his own experiences like Dick did. He should make friends and date whoever he wants and not feel guilty for it. He refuses to take that from him.

So Dick balances his time with Jason very carefully. He makes sure that he isn't around too much. He's absent more than present but when he is around he makes sure that they spend some quality time together and have fun.

It doesn't matter if that's just sitting in the library talking about what book Jason is reading, playing a game or watching a movie together, going out, or even patrolling together. Sometimes Jason comes and stays with him at Bludhaven. Dick shows him his city and takes him train surfing.

It really is a balancing act for Dick. He doesn't want to woo Jason and doesn't want Jason to slot him into the brother role either. His plan is to be a fond yet distant presence in Jason's life until he is old enough to decide what he wants Dick as without Dick having influenced his decision. It's the only thing that seems right at this point.

He wants Jason to grow up with the same freedom he had and to decide what he wants them to be when he is old enough.

Then Jason dies and all Dick can do for years is mourn all the lost time and the future they didn't get to have together.

After Jason comes back and has really started to settle from the pit madness, Dick tries to tell Jason that they are soulmates. He had tried waiting for the "perfect time" to tell him before, and Jason had died. Dick isn't going to make that mistake again.

This time he has rushed it too much.

The remaining effects/magic from the Lazarus pit are still blocking Jason's side of the bond from waking, and without that connection Jason doesn't believe him. The pit rage surges with a fury. Jason thinks Dick is lying to him, trying to manipulate him and Jason is deeply hurt and feels so betrayed. Dick knows how much having a soulmate means to him, and the belief that Dick would use that is crushing.

Dick coughs up his first petals that night.

He doesn't have hanahaki yet. This is a precursor, a warning. There are no ill effects, just the occasional petals. Jason didn't reject him. He just didn't believe Dick.

But things get worse.

Jason is furious. He avoids Dick and, by extension, the rest of the Bats. Everyone is confused by this sudden change. and not so secretly blaming Bruce. Dick is desperate and scared. He just wants to talk with Jason. When he does, it turns into a huge blow-up that becomes incredibly vicious and cruel. In the end, Jason leaves Gotham. Dick leaves the fight heartbroken and not only with hanahaki but the aggressive variant that can kill in a few short months.

Bruce finds out about the hanahaki first, but even he doesn't figure it out until it has already reached the point that it's dangerously critical. He has to hospitalize Dick in the cave and within just a few days Dick requires extensive medical assistance to survive.

Bruce has had the surgery for hanahaki and they have a conversation that turns into a fight. Bruce is demanding that Dick get the surgery and Dick adamantly refuses.

Bruce has the same problem that everyone who has the surgery has. He can't feel love or any of the connected emotions such as compassion, affection, fondness, or tenderness. He can, however, still feel off shades of happiness or pride, a detached sense of pleased, satisfaction, or contentment. He can feel frightened, angry, and responsible.

He can feel deeply possessive.

Bruce can feel all of his negative emotions just fine but the good ones are so much harder to get to now and they aren't as full and complete. But those few bright and beautiful moments in his life are all connected to his family and he can still vaguely remember what it felt like to love his son.

So, he logics it all out in his head that Dick is emotionally compromised and can't be trusted to make this decision. That he knows better than anyone that after the surgery, Dick will be okay and even thank him for this. Dick doesn't need love like he believes. He can use logic and the code to navigate life like he does.

Bruce sets up the surgery for Dick.

He uses Dick's trust in him to drug him and take him in for it.

The hospital staff doesn't account for a Bat's tolerance, and Dick wakes up while they are still preparing him. Dick absolutely freaks out. He tells them he hasn't consented to the surgery. That he doesn’t want it. The staff already knows. Bruce has already taken care of that. Dick tries begging. He's crying and pleading with them.

"Please, don't do this to me." They just put him under. "You'll destroy me."

Dick goes under but never really comes back up.

He is not okay. Bruce thought Dick could live on cold logic and reason. He thought that Dick followed his code because he believed in it. Bruce believed that he was doing what was best for Dick and that when Dick woke up, he would see that.

Bruce was wrong.

There are a few reasons it is so extremely illegal to force someone into this surgery. One of those reasons is because the state of mind they are in has an enormous impact on how they come out of the surgery. Things like depression, suicide rate, or probability to turn violent are deeply affected by there mental state before their surgery. Patients are supposed to have as much therapy as they can manage beforehand. Then afterwards they need a strong and dedicated support team for the rest of their lives.

Another reason is that because without love or compassion it's nearly impossible to forgive.

Dick wakes up with a screaming void ripped into him. It radiates a cold so severe it burns his soul. Dick is furious. Bruce has betrayed him. Bruce has ruined him. He has literally torn apart his soul and stolen all of Dick's love, extinguishing any hope he had left with it.

Now there isn't anything to stop Dick from pouring his fury and pain out onto Bruce and all of Gotham. If Gotham thought it had seen the worst a Bat could do under the Red Hood's fury. Then it hasn't seen anything yet.

Because Nightwing no longer has any mercy left to give.

The streets of Gotham will run red with his wrath and pain.

Meanwhile, space and time to think is exactly what Jason needed to get his head on straight again. He is doing much better when word of Dicks condition reaches him. When Jason hears that Dick has hanahaki, he rushes home to find Dick.

He's two days too late.

If Bruce would have waited just two more days.

When Jason does find him, Dick is standing in the middle of a warehouse turned bloodbath. They talk, and Dick tells him precisely what happened and about just how broken he feels now. He spares no detail, but neither does he embellish anything.

Jason clutches Dick as tight against himself as he can. Like, if he holds Dick close enough, he can merge his heart with Dick's. As if their broken pieces can heal together and make something whole and new.

"I love you, I have always loved you," Jason breathes the words against Dick's skin like an apology from deep within his soul meant to reach the same depth within Dick's.

"I loved you once," Dick murmurs back. "I meant to love you always."

Jason coughs up his first petals.

Jason's hanahaki is the excruciatingly slow variant. Dick didn't reject him, the exact opposite in fact. However, now, by no choice of his own, Dick is unable to love Jason.

Jason feels crushingly guilty for what happened to Dick. The way he sees it, if he would have just trusted Dick or at least not ran away then this would have never happened to him. It makes Jason cling to Dick all the tighter.

"I don't want to lose you again, please, will you let me stay with you." For a long moment Dick just stares at him. His expression having never been more impossible to read before.

"I don't think I want to be alone," Dick answers after a painfully long silence.

Dick is set hard core on his revenge path against Bruce and this is something that Jason understands in spades. The thing is that Dick is really unstable right now. Just like Bruce, he's unable to feel any kind of love anymore and that includes all the adjacent emotions to it as well. Dick remembers feeling the full range of emotions. He remembers fond affection, passionate love, warm compassion and just being able to care. He remembers what it felt like to love his family and remembering hurts.

So instead, he burns with his anger, betrayal, hate, and pain. It's an icy fury that can't be banked and knows no end.

He's hurting and he doesn't know how to stop anymore. Not when the anger is the only thing keeping him going.

This leaves Jason as the voice of reason and as the one who has to throw the brakes on when things start to go too far. Jason has to help Dick realize when enough is enough. Dick always listens. If Jason is saying, "This is too much," then it has to have gone too far. He doesn't question Jason. He trusts him.

Dick struggles with both raging fury and stretches of deep depression. Sometimes swinging straight from one extreme to the other. Jason tries to help Dick modulate his emotions and mental state. Their relationship is rather unhealthy. Jason clings to Dick, refusing to leave him, and Dick ends up becoming really possessive of Jason.

Jason is with Dick nearly from the very beginning of his new life, and he is his grounding point. Dick knows he's better when he is with Jason, and he feels better around him. Just because Dick can't love that doesn't mean that he can't feel any good emotions. He still feels shades of happiness or excitement. Dick can't love Jason, but that doesn't mean that he can't enjoy him. He still has physical needs, and the way he sees it since he and Jason are supposed to be soulmates, it makes sense to go to him for sex.

He means it as a kindness. He doesn't want to hurt Jason, and Dick understands that him sleeping with other people would hurt Jason. So, if Jason meets his needs and keeps him satisfied, then he will only be with Jason. Even if he sees someone else he wants, in order to keep things good between them, he'll abstain.

He basically hands Jason an ultimatum though he doesn't actually mean to.

It doesn't occur to Dick that sex with him now might be heartbreaking. That, because it will mean more to Jason than simple gratification like it is for Dick. It will be a special kind of torture.

He has no idea why Jason cries in the shower after they're done that first time. He doesn't ask though, Jason had obviously been trying to hide it and Dick isn't sure he actually wants to know.

So with Jason as both his grounding point and the source of most of his positive feelings Dick becomes highly possessive and dependent on him.

"How long are you going to stay with me," Dick asks into the dark, sad and hurt and so very scared.

"My entire life Dickie. I won't leave you until the very end," Jason promises.

They both know that end is coming too soon.

Another problem is that Dick knows he isn't really good for Jason. Even though he really does try there are still times when he is unintentionally cruel. Despite this Dick can't let Jason go.

"I'm going to keep hurting you, and sometimes I won't even care that I am." Dick is going through another bout of depression.

"I know Dickiebird, and I'll let you, I'll forgive you, and I'll stay." Jason does his best to take care of him and reassure him. To help his soulmate claw his way back out of the darkness he has fallen into.

The people of Gotham quickly take notice of Nightwing becoming a merciless killer. The few that still believe in law and justice mourn the fall of a hero. The good but down trodden of Gotham that are starving for protection, relief and change see him the same as they do Red Hood. As what Gotham really needs. As someone that will be the catalyst for a change for the better. The criminals only see death.

A lot of theories get thrown around. The most prevalent is that he just finally snapped. That someone can only face the worst of humanity every day for so long before they can't take it anymore. After all, what change do the Bats see? They just face the same goons and villains every night on repeat.

But there are a few who see and recognize the signs, and they know.

Nightwing, a beloved hero, went down and never got back up.

Jason lasts a couple of years with the slow, torturous progression of his hanahaki. If he got the surgery, he could save his life, but that isn't even a consideration. He doesn't want it, and even more than that, he could never do that to Dick.

Jason had read once that the flowers are a physical manifestation of the shattered pieces of a person's soul after being rejected by their soulmate, like petals falling off a dying flower. He had always thought that it was people romanticizing hanahaki.

He isn't so sure now.

He thinks that someone stripped Dick of all his soft and loving petals and cauterized the wound where he was bleeding out, leaving only a thorny stem that remembers and mourns when it was once a flower.

It's cruel.

But he sees how hard Dick tries. Even now, with no love left in him, Dick still tries so damn hard for the people he remembers once loving. He shows it to most by refusing to see them. By telling them over and over when they hunt him down that the Dick Grayson they knew died on that operating table. That he is just the ghoul left behind to haunt them, seeking vengeance for the sin committed against him.

God, does Jason get it. He understands exactly how Dick feels.

Dick is different with him. He clutches tight to Jason and never lets go. Not even when Dick cuts deep into Jason and leaves him emotionally bleeding. Even then, Jason is grateful. There isn't anywhere else that he wants to be than with Dick.

When Jason's condition gets to the point that he has to be hospitalized, Dick stays with him. He feels a sense of responsibility for him and is grateful to Jason for all he has done for him, and frankly, he wants every last second he has with Jason before he loses him forever. So, he stays with him through long days and sleepless nights. Even when the rest of the family comes to see Jason, Dick doesn't leave.

There isn't much the hospital can do for him. Jason is mostly there for comfort care, but he refuses most of the pain meds. They mess with his head too much and make him sleepy, and he doesn't want to waste any of the time he has with Dick. He has been living with this pain for years now. He knows how to endure it.

It's close to the end, and Jason will have to be fully intubated soon. They have put it off as long as they can. When they intubate him, he will have to go on sedatives until he passes. Dick is lying in bed with Jason cuddled close to him.

Dick sets up and leans over Jason to look him in the eyes. “Let's try again in our next life. This was all wrong, but if we hadn't had our chance stolen, we could have been beautiful together. So promise me that we will try again.”

“I promise, for all our lives, however many that may be.” It's obviously painful and a herculean task, but Jason does it even as it leaves him struggling to catch his breath.

Dick holds his gaze and dredges up every last scrap of memory he has of love. He digs up the warm soft, and tender affection and hot and deep passion. He tries to fill himself with it. He kisses Jason and tries his hardest to give everything he used to feel, all that had always belonged to Jason, back to him in that moment.

“It's okay, Little Wing, let go. I'll be right behind you.”

Jason never sees Dick slip the needle into his IV. After Dick injects the lethal amount of morphine, he simply falls asleep and never wakes.

Dick wouldn't let Jason needlessly suffer through the last few days, and he wouldn't let the hanahaki steal his life. It belonged to him.

After he is certain that Jason is gone, he slips out of the hospital. He makes a single stop by a florist to pick up an order he had placed two days earlier. It is a truly massive bouquet with what a casual observer would consider a bizarre mix of flowers. To Dick, it's perfect and terribly beautiful.

Scabious - unfortunate love

Carolina rose - love is dangerous.

cypress flower - eternal love, memories of past love, or love that's unrequited or in vain.

Orange Blossom - Innocence. Eternal love

Primrose flowers - I can’t live without you

Hyacinths - Please forgive me

Blue hydrangeas - forgiveness, rejection, and regret - gratitude, grace, and beauty.

Sweetpeas - Departure, remember me, good-bye, a tender memory, thank you for a lovely time.

wisteria - devotion that transcends death

marigold - the brevity of life, despaired love, grief, sorrow, despair, and mourning, remembering the dead, power, strength

cyclamen - a new path in life, separation, goodbye or resignation

Love-lies-bleeding - hopeless love or hopelessness

Bleeding Heart - Unconditional love, Heartbreak and sadness, unrequited love

All flowers that Jason had coughed up and choked on over the years. Flowers that Jason had grown just for him.

Flowers for his love.

Dick heads to the top of the highest building overlooking Robinson Park, the place where Haly's Circus performed. He very carefully situates his bouquet by the edge and then climbs up onto it.

“Dick, what do you want?” Bruce asks from behind him.

It might seem like an odd question, but for them, it isn't. They both know what he's doing, and Bruce knows that it's because Jason is gone. What he doesn't understand is what Dick is hoping to achieve by doing this.

Dick looks out over the park where his parents fell to their deaths. Bruce had been there that night. It seems fitting that he will watch the last Flying Grayson fall as well.

“I just want to be with him,” Dick answers without turning to face him. “We'll get it right next time.”

Dick had grown his flowers for Jason when he wasn't there to receive them, and they had been stolen away before he could make it back to Dick, but now Dick falls for Jason just like he has so many times before.

Jason is waiting for him, and they will get it right next time.

[idolkilling]

OC ASKS: Your OCs are in a room and suddenly lights are turned off. Who are they reaching for first? Will they reach to hold someone at all?

OOH THIS IS A CUTE ONE THANK YOU!! Answering for the characters on my Toyhou.se, but feel free to follow up with any specific characters you might remember from my past blogs if I didn’t mention them :D

In most cases the characters would just reach for whoever is closest to them rather than anyone specific (since I use them across various settings and their interactions change from AU to AU), under the pretense they’re familiar with their company. This is kinda long also, so I’m putting it under a read-more o7

OCs who are more likely to reach for someone than not:

Eve, using it as an excuse to grope the nearest well-built man (often Velo since they work together)

Rex, also using it as an excuse to grope the nearest cute and petite girl 🤦 I think he would get reached for by his FWB (later boyfriend), Kais, though

Dimitri, who’s equal parts protective over whoever is with him due to a strong sense of responsibility and wanting to make sure they don’t fuck anything in the room up; Minkyu comes to mind, though Xero is an exception since he trusts them to take care of themself and stay out of the way

Reis… but with malicious intent :((( He is absolutely using the blackout as an opening to infect someone near him with an otherworldly pathogen/parasite :(((

Tarou, with similar reasoning as Dimitri, but he’d also make sure to grab Reis so he does NOT give hapless people the Alien chestburster experience

Luca, mostly just being silly and dramatically pretending to be scared, though if it’s a more perilous scenario he’d reach for someone to ground himself, not wanting to be alone

Navid, not wanting to be separated from his friends

OCs who are less likely to reach for someone:

Kee, who doesn’t want to burden others so she’s more likely to just curl in on herself—though if it’s a dire situation and she thinks she can help keep the other party from harm, she might make an exception

Velo, since he usually does NOT gaf about the people around him—they can take care of themselves!—but he would make an exception for people/creatures that are so pathetic/defenseless he’d feel guilty about leaving them in the lurch (such as Haruki)

Junta, since I imagine this scenario with him would be a silly one more often than not; he wouldn’t be concerned about the blackout, though he might sneak up and scare his friends

Verrine is probably just turning the lights off herself to wish one of her sons (or “playthings”) goodnight… It’s hard to imagine her being caught off-guard; if the blackout is malicious she probably expects it and is either alone or with protection 🤔

Cherry would rather go for a weapon than grasp for a friend, though against his survival instinct he would feel more comforted holding onto someone (particularly Ram’s OC Harris, whom he has an unspoken crush on)

V. Aster (who people are probably more familiar with under the name “Vivie” aha) is another character who’s indifferent to the safety of those around them—reaching for someone or being clung to would just hinder their mobility; they can see in the dark and they’re going to be productive about it

OCs who don’t reach for anyone, but get reached for:

Xero can see in the dark (and beyond that is an otherworldly entity), so they wouldn’t be bothered even if the blackout is a precursor to danger; by default, their eyes glow like embers, so they’d be a visible beacon for nearby company to cling onto for protection (especially Minkyu…)

Ein is a renegade bioweapon with lowlight vision—he’d be kind of excited for danger to spring out and have a toussle! But otherwise he’s being reached for by a cautious Lavender (his mostly-human roommate who sometimes is sucked into his and Acheron’s nonsense)

Lillie would reach for a weapon and get reached for by her gooner roach of a NOT-boyfriend, Oswald (erectroswing’s OC), much to her chagrin cuz she KNOWS his ass is not scared and he’s just using it as an excuse to wrap around her and scream and squeal

Jet would just stand there in confusion (bro has the survival instinct of a middle-aged corporate worker who wants to kill himself, cuz he is LMAO), but Zeta would take the opportunity to grope grab him for fruity reasons

Anyway, thank you so much for sending this in—OC asks genuinely make my whole day ;w; <3 !!!

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

I’m honestly extremely curious how the Dorfs (& Demise if he wants, the big child) would react to walking into a room to find his lover/fiancée chatting with one of his Gerudo guards (who knows, maybe they’re friends) & they don’t notice. But as he approaches to speak to her, he hears the conversation. His beloved appears to be marveling at the Gerudo's heights (as in, Gerudo in-general are just so freaking tall), especially that of Ganondorf. His tiny Darling only reaches his elbows when standing with his arms at his sides. And, evidently, it wasn't just his height that stunned her, but also his overall girth as a result of obviously intense training. And he very much does not miss the admiration in her voice.

Darling: “It would not be surprising if he could crush a Hydromelon between his thighs.” (I'm specifically thinking of the scene with Zangief in Wreck-It Ralph.)

Which gets his guardswoman to laughing uproariously, which gets his Darling flustered.

I need to hear his thoughts, feelings, & reactions. As in, what actions do he take after this?

Smug? Embarrassed? Flirty? Flustered?

Like, I can imagine him from then on taking notice of when his lover seems to be staring at him & begin to subtly flex when he does things & observes their reactions. Or always making sure to emphasize his full height when facing her in close proximity, intentionally looming over her so as to exaggerate their already obvious height difference. Or he could just tease them about it. But be very sultry about it.

Thank you for understanding that Demise refuses to be left out. He IS a big child! No matter if I word it JUST the Ganondorfs, he forces his way in, huffing and puffing and being just a big grouchy pooch. He is the precursor! He is the Ancestor! He refuses to be left out just because he "iSnT a GaNoNdOrF".

Big silly demon...

************************************************************************

Ganondorf (Wind Waker)

Thoughts and Feelings:

Upon hearing his beloved's playful comment and the ensuing laughter from his guard, Ganondorf’s initial reaction is one of surprise and amusement. He’s not used to being on the receiving end of such candid admiration, and it makes him smirk with a mix of pride and intrigue. The thought of being compared to Zangief from Wreck-It Ralph tickles his ego, and he finds himself both flattered and amused.

Actions:

Smug Playfulness: He approaches with a confident stride, his smirk turning into a full-fledged grin as he catches his beloved’s flustered reaction. He might say something like, “I’m glad to see you appreciate the benefits of my training, dear. Perhaps I should demonstrate my strength for you sometime.” His tone is teasing and playful.

Subtle Flexing: In subsequent interactions, Ganondorf will subtly flex his muscles when he’s near his beloved, making sure to strike poses that emphasize his physique. He might casually lift heavy objects or show off his strength in ways that make it clear he’s aware of her admiration.

Height Emphasis: He enjoys leaning in closer to her, making sure to tower over her in a way that accentuates their height difference. His presence becomes even more imposing, but it’s done with a gentle touch, showing that he’s enjoying the playful dynamic between them.

Ganondorf (Ocarina of Time)

Thoughts and Feelings:

Hearing his lover’s comment about his height and strength leaves Ganondorf feeling both amused and a bit embarrassed. The idea of being compared to a character renowned for his physical prowess is flattering, and he enjoys the playful teasing. He’s also somewhat touched by her admiration, which makes him feel more confident and cherished.

Actions:

Flirtatious Teasing: Ganondorf might approach his beloved with a teasing grin, saying, “I’m pleased you recognize the results of my training. Perhaps I should put on a show for you sometime, just to prove your point.” His tone is light and flirtatious, adding a layer of charm to his response.

Subtle Displays: He might start showing off his strength more often in her presence, lifting objects with ease or demonstrating his physical prowess in subtle ways. He takes delight in her reactions and ensures she knows he’s aware of her admiration.

Height Play: Ganondorf enjoys making the most of their height difference, subtly leaning over her or standing at angles that highlight just how tall he is compared to her. His actions are meant to be playful and endearing, showing off his imposing stature in a way that’s both affectionate and entertaining.

Ganondorf (Twilight Princess)

Thoughts and Feelings:

Ganondorf’s reaction to his lover’s comment is a mix of pride and a bit of shyness. The comparison to a character known for his immense strength is flattering, and he’s pleased by her admiration. It also makes him feel more self-aware of his presence and physicality.

Actions:

Playful Confidence: He might approach his lover with a smirk, saying, “It seems my reputation precedes me. Perhaps I should give you a demonstration of my strength to prove you’re not mistaken.” His tone is both confident and playful.

Flexing and Showing Off: In the future, Ganondorf takes opportunities to subtly flex and show off his muscles when he’s around her, enjoying the way she reacts. He might casually lift or move heavy objects with ease, making sure she sees his strength.

Heightening the Difference: He enjoys emphasizing their height difference by leaning in close or standing at a deliberate angle that makes him appear even more imposing. It’s all in good fun, meant to tease and delight his beloved.

Ganondorf (Hyrule Warriors)

Thoughts and Feelings:

Ganondorf finds his beloved’s comment amusing and flattering. The comparison to a character known for his strength boosts his ego, and he’s delighted by her admiration. He feels a sense of pride and amusement at the thought of her being impressed by his physicality.

Actions:

Sultry Teasing: He might approach her with a sultry grin and say, “I’m glad you recognize the fruits of my training. Maybe I’ll give you a private demonstration of just what I’m capable of.” His tone is teasing and filled with a subtle confidence.

Showcasing Strength: Ganondorf will make a point to show off his strength and physical prowess in her presence, lifting heavy objects or demonstrating his power in ways that make her aware of his abilities.

Emphasizing Height: He takes pleasure in emphasizing their height difference, often leaning over her or standing in a way that makes his imposing stature more pronounced. It’s all in good fun, aimed at teasing her playfully.

Ganondorf (Tears of the Kingdom)

Thoughts and Feelings:

Ganondorf is both flattered and amused by his lover’s comment. The comparison to a character known for his strength makes him feel more confident and appreciated. He enjoys the playful nature of her admiration and finds it endearing.

Actions:

Playful Confidence: He might approach her with a teasing smile, saying, “It seems my physical prowess has made quite an impression on you. Perhaps I should offer you a private demonstration to solidify that image.” His tone is light and playful.

Subtle Show-Off: In subsequent interactions, Ganondorf takes every opportunity to subtly display his strength, making sure she sees just how impressive he can be. He might lift or move heavy objects with ease, enjoying her reactions.

Height Play: He enjoys accentuating their height difference, often leaning over her or positioning himself in a way that makes his stature more imposing. His actions are meant to tease and delight, showing off his physicality in a way that’s affectionate and entertaining.

Demise

Thoughts and Feelings:

Demise’s reaction to his beloved’s comment is one of both amusement and pride. The comparison to a character renowned for his strength resonates with him, and he is flattered by her admiration. He enjoys the playful nature of the situation and finds her reaction endearing.

Actions:

Flirtatious Teasing: Demise might approach her with a smirk, saying, “I see my physical prowess has captured your imagination. Perhaps I should demonstrate just what I’m capable of, just for you.” His tone is sultry and playful.

Strength Display: He will take every opportunity to subtly showcase his strength and physicality, lifting objects with ease or demonstrating his power in ways that make his abilities clear. He enjoys seeing her reactions to his displays.

Height Emphasis: Demise takes pleasure in emphasizing their height difference, often leaning over her or standing in a way that makes his imposing stature more apparent. His actions are playful and meant to tease, adding a layer of intimacy and affection to their interactions.

[bellmo15-blog]

Precursor Drone Kiera

Oh Kiera, out of all the childhood crushes I had growing up you are the one I'm surprised I don't get more art off despite the fact that the Jak and Daxter series is still one of my favourite Playstation exclusive franchises. Well, this series and Ratchet and Clank.

Inkling Michael: Wait, what about Crash Bandicoot. That was like THE defining title on the Playstation 1 and you've even admitted you love that series and was even the first video game franchise you played.

I said Playstation EXCLUSIVE franchises! Why would I count a franchise that has been multiplatform since 2001, only the first five games are exclusive to a Playstation system and N.Sane Trilogy was only a PS4 exclusive for a year before going multiplatform anyway as a Playstation Exclusive?

IM: Okay but how do you explain stuff like Bayonetta then where the first game's multiplatform and was even re-released on PS4/Xbox One and PC for it's 10 year anniversary but Bayonetta 2 onwards are only on Nintendo systems?

That's...... complicated because of how no one else other than Nintendo wanted to even publish Bayonetta 2 in the first place... Okay fine, you got me on that one!

Believe it or not, this pic actually has a bit of a backstory behind it's inspiration. I was replaying Jak 2, specifically the PS4 re-release since it had trophy support and I had become a bit of an avid trophy and achievement hunter in the past few years and wanted to add another one of my favourite games to that list of fully Platinumed games especially since I had Platinumed the original Jak and Daxter a few years ago. I... gave up on trying to Platinum Jak 2 after remembering the insane score requirements for some of the optional challenges though and I REALLY didn't want to use the Orb Farming glitch or Debug mode to just get the Platinum instantly. However midway though my playthrough a sudden thought came into my mind relating to the Precursors, the ancient and technologically advanced beings that much Jak and Daxter's world and lore is built around. My though process was basically "Okay but what if the Precursors had hypnosis or fembot technology for controlling hostiles?"

And that's it! That's how this whole idea was spawned! Just a random intrusive thought while playing a game I absolutely adore. I came up with a design, picked who I wanted to be the victim which of course it was going be Kiera (though trust me, I was close to going with Ashelin at one point) and asked Ameer to draw this for my next Fully Detailed Ko Fi reward. And maybe this is just my own childhood love for Kiera talking here, again she was one of my childhood crushes, but this is honestly one of my favourite things I've gotten Ameer to draw for me so far. And finally uploading it for more people to see feels good. Nothing could ruin this night at all.

Genie Michael: Sony ported Jak and Daxter The Lost Frontier to PS5 before they ported Daxter! :D

...... Why do I even hang out with you people?

Artist is AmmerAshourDraws.

[mariacallous]

Squander enough time on TikTok these days and the signs of creative deceleration are everywhere.

“Try-hard” slang is spreading. Competitive aging is a thing. Classic episodes of The Sopranos are fed to you in polished 25-second bites. Last October, the 2004 cult teen comedy Mean Girls was portioned into 23 parts to unanimous celebration. (Did I mention pirated content is on the rise?) Everyone, it seems, wants to revisit the world as it was two decades ago, of all places, on the so-called app of the future.

Relics of the New Millennium are again in vogue, and especially on TikTok, where you get the sense that everyone is chasing the fantasy of youth. Except, it’s just that—a fantasy.

“I keep getting served TikToks on [high-yield savings accounts] and 401ks,” one of my colleagues commented in Slack recently. “I believe the olds are in charge now.”

She’s right, of course. Millennials are currently outpacing Gen Z in the adoption of TikTok in the US, according to Pew Research Center data, which shows that the app's 30-49-year-old demographic is growing faster than its 18-29-year-old user base.

Such is the way on the social internet; still, the enshittification of TikTok continues.

One tell-tale sign of late-stage social media is the endless vomit of nostalgia regifted in pretty packaging. Tastes have aged, and the user experience is no longer one of giddy revelation—at one point, the only reaction the app seemed to generate among new users—but one of odd comfort.

It was inevitable, of course. Seasons change, apps pivot, and users learn to chase the adrenaline of the future through new and exotic machines of possibility.

When TikTok gained mass popularity in 2020 during the first outbreak of Covid-19, it signaled a reorientation of where we place value. Tastes were being reengineered. The app’s offerings were as robust as they were confounding: dance challenges, beauty recommendations, racial appropriation, expert sleuthing, and more fed its algorithmic churn. It wasn’t just endless but entertainingly so, earning a reputation for setting trends and establishing itself as an unofficial headquarters for Gen Z influencers—and, because the internet is a repeated comedy of errors, later platforming de-influencers.

Today, TikTok operates as the ideal precursor to AI and what the next digital revolution is ushering in—a blurring of realities, a blotting out. Ownership over “the sense organs of the public,” as Nicholas Carr phrased it, is the endpoint, the very future that companies like Meta and Apple want to build. And so TikTok persuades as the perfect tonic: a world of cyclical multimedia that lets you create, live in, or simply spectate at will. A 60-second harbinger of all that is coming, delivered on demand.

For many people, the sensations of digital life feel most alive on such an app. With art, suggests Jackson Arn, extreme sensation is a fraught strategy because of what it pulls off: As the artwork seduces, it also disgusts.

I now wonder if that was the point of socially-oriented technologies all along. They make you feel a little more alive. Again and again, they unlock dormant sensations: excitement, awe, satisfaction. Even disgust has the capacity to captivate. Because even in disgust there is a need to share, comment on, or understand the nature of spectacle, and how it functions. Only, the seduction of TikTok captivates a little too well, and as you age, carrying the experience of life on your shoulders while trying not to be crushed by it, you find yourself craving those sensations all the time.

That seems especially true for millennials, who were guaranteed a future that never arrived. They were dealt a bad hand—several bad hands—and saddled with the failures of those who came before them without a blueprint for a path forward. In February, I received a text from a family member. He'd applied for the SAVE Plan, and we exchanged mutual angst over our financial misfortunes, how so many friends are in the same bind, bonding over the recognition of unnatural loss, of another future we’ll never know.

Last week at the barbershop, I watched as a young man in his early thirties thumbed from video to video, his neck craned into his iPhone, blitzing through TikTok. He sat in the chair for about 40 minutes, and as the barber worked around him, not once did he glance away from his screen, except, to exclaim, “Look! You gotta see this one.”

So when I hear that millennials are usurping Gen Z as TikTok's leading demographic, I'm not shocked. The organs of our digital existence, like the body, are connected, flowing as they should even when complete comprehension evades reasoning. All of it is intertwined. The increasing thirst for mixed reality. Gen Z abandoning the rituals of digital life altogether for a more analog experience. The decline of TikTok as millennials eclipse the platform. The previous world is ending. So is social media as we knew it. And we again want to feel something—even if, and only for a little while, that something is 2004.

[redphlox]

Maybe he did love her, but everything else overshadowed that. I feel like if he didn’t care about her, he wouldn’t have remembered something she liked

I have a question for you, anon - does it matter if Endeavor cared/loved her in that romantic sense you're implying? Does that mitigate his actions? Are you saying "Endeavor abused Rei but at least he loved/cared about her" or are you saying "Endeavor loved Rei so that should mean something" or....? Because Horikoshi is telling us through his art and story that Endeavor's feelings or intentions don't offset or make up for what happened; he was the villain of his own family, he was the root cause.

Plain and simple. He still abused Rei.

Also, love and caring aren't mutually exclusive. I care about my coworkers, but do I love them? No. I love my abusive parent, but do I care about their likes and dislikes? Not really.

You can still abuse someone you love and care about, ex: your children, your significant other, etc. Abuse doesn't always mean the absence of close attachment. It's often a precursor or even necessary for the abuse to take place.

The flowers are Enji's way of showing that he cares about Rei, yes. That much is obvious. He's regretful of his actions but he's also a proud, stubborn man concerned with appearances and aware he's probably a huge trigger, so he's been trying to repent with her in subtle ways. IE, the flowers. They're his way of saying that he no longer only views her as merely a person he sought out to breed the perfect hero with - she's a person who existed before meeting him and who exists without him, a person with likes and dislikes, with hopes and dreams... a person he deeply hurt physically and mentally. This is his way of starting to make amends. Sending the flowers she liked = him acknowledging her humanity outside of her "duty" to him via marriage and mother to his children.

That much is obvious.

I'm not sure what point you're trying to make. If speculating that maybe Endeavor harbored a secret crush or feels the basic human emotion of caring about the other parent of his children is your way of humanizing and making him more palatable, have at it. Ask yourself if Endeavor loving or caring about Rei alters, lessens, justifies, changes, his abuse.

Horikoshi hasn't left any room for debate on romantic feelings between them, though. If we're going to use the "well soandso remember that soandso likes blablabla" argument then we can also use that on pretty much everyone in bnha. Deku knows Bakugo is fond of spicy foods, and he cares about him, yes. Literally, Tomura remembers everything about Deku. At this point in the story, does Tomura care about Deku in a nice way? No. But he definitely cares about him enough to always think about him and remember things about him.

So, yeah, not sure what argument you're trying to generate, but I'm not interested in talking through it because I've talked about it hundreds of times before. I won't be talking about it anymore. The canon material is clear and meta isn't needed, and like I said, I've written about it before.

Thanks!