#not actually but believe in a world where he did

[spravdiukr]

People for some reason believe that because Brotherhood is more action adventure shounen typical story it’s better

Which is so honestly sad

Brotherhood is better if you don’t want to think or get your core beliefs about the world challenged

I get the appeal. World is morally grey and dim and most of the time really unjust place so having this story where doing the good thing always seems to lead to the good result and happy ending exists is pleasant and enjoyable. I like Brotherhood for that too.

Except some of the shit it does is questionable. Why are we focusing so much on soldiers (murderers)? And their pain, but there are literally only 2(!) people of the group that was slaughtered that have a name? They’re the ACTUAL victims but somehow they are being sidelined. Like oh no Maes wanted to live? That’s so valid reason to kill children. Roy is also such a nice good guy for deciding to keep murdering people to allegedly eventually change the system (love their decision to make Roy use philosopher stone made of human lives, lives of people from ethnic group Roy participated in genocide of to heal Roy’s eyes that’s def not fucked up and definitely shows how guilty he is) and there’s a lot of this shit.

How much do we learn about feelings of people from ethnic group they slaughtered? Miles gets Jack shit, because the story is so unconcerned with them. He’s there to show the “correct” way to react to having your people being massacred. And while I do agree that just lashing out at the world causing more destruction won’t help you and your people, the show doesn’t focus nearly as much on how fucking deeply devastating being in Scar’s position is. It’s not just seeing death of a single person, it’s it the same as oh no our lil town is now broke and people sad, it’s that places that were part of your life just don’t exist anymore, they are erased out of existence; it’s that people that did not do anything to deserve it are cut out of existence; it’s that your beliefs about doing good thing leads to more good things are completely snapped in half because not only did it not work it feels like mockery, like reality really just decided to laugh at you. This scars the nation; it completely changes geography, it erases entire cities from the Map, but there’s more as it creates generational trauma for people.The consequences of living through war surrounded by death and destruction and torture and there’s no way out. Nowhere to run.

Unlike soldiers that ACTUALLY have an option to stop and get to return to their home, their country in peace and see children unaffected by death and despair and pain, people of Ishval do not have that Luxury! There’s no choice! There’s nowhere running away! Because it’s your country that is being ruined! It doesn’t change regardless of where you are physically! And you didn’t even do anything wrong for that to happen!

So while yes, it’s bad to just cause more aimless and senseless violence, Scar’s pain is so much worse than that of murderers and yet it’s somehow treated in the same way as Roy’s desire to avenge Maes! Scar’s situation is so deeply horrific it’s just incompatible!

It gets even worse when you think about Winry part of it! We are supposed to think she’s so awesome for not killing Scar and even you know helping him despite him killing her parents even though it’s like basic level of not being a dick if you think about it. Scar did not kill her parents out of love of the game or because of hatred, he’s literally so traumatised he thought they were trying to harm him. Murdering him wound have been just punishing victim of a horrible crime for being traumatised basically. This situation is indeed very tragic because Winry’s parents actually were saving Ishavar’s people and not trying to murder them so yeah, if Scar wasn’t ducked up he would have been grateful. But things turned out the way the did. It’s tragedy.

My only problem is that again we are glazing Winry and her parents so hard and there’s so little time spent on letting you taste how cruel Scar’s reality is that it just feels like such an incredible feat from Winry’s side and not action I would expect from any decent person.

Now back to the only other person from Ishvar (kinda; he’s mixed, but still) they bothered to name, Miles. So he’s supposed to be alternative for Scar, isn’t he? What exactly is he doing? He’s in the North working with the army and that’s it really from what I remember. He’s basically obedient puppy barking on command for the corrupt system responsible for slaughter of his people. So how exactly is this good alternative? What even does it sound like? “Stop resisting or trying to destroy the evil fucking government that was destroying your nation and uh let it use you for its purposes, hopefully they’ll have change their hearts”? Did I get it right? This is extremely torn away from reality and is borderline harmful idea to send.

They also like passively tell you he’s aware of discrimination but they don’t really show people being racist to him. It’s pretty peculiar.

They also dismiss discrimination and problems because Olivia’s point and point Brotherhood makes is how we need everyone’s knowledge to succeed (in saving the world). In other words, why be racist when those people’s skills can be useful. Interesting philosophy there. It’s less that “they are human being too” but more so “their culture and them can be useful to you so treat them nice to get to it”. Very weird.

There are other problems too, like design choices. Scar is given these very sharp and aggressive features and Miles having softer ones is such a peculiar Choice. The lapdog is the one you are expected to perceive more favourably and agree to as the correct alternative.

It’s just in a way kinda undermines what Brotherhood is selling. It wants you to look at truth no matter how uncomfortable and yet it’s trying to make you look anywhere but ugly and shitty, far more terrifying outlook on the situation this story decided to tackle.

Oh and also Homunculus bring responsible for slaughter starting is another way to say see Soldiers weren’t that bad after all! Almost forgot that shitty detail!

Okay but the weirdest thing about the whole "Brotherhood is better you should skip 03" discourse that's become commonplace now, it sort of forgets the world Brotherhood came out in and why you should watch the original Fullmetal Alchemist. When Brotherhood came out, the original Fullmetal Alchemist was one of the most beloved and most watched animes of all time. Brotherhood assumes you the audience have already seen it because of course you have, everyone has seen it, so it skips important information and speeds the story up because it doesn't want to bore you with things you already know. Have you ever wondered "hey why does the first episode of Brotherhood kind of suck, and why am I being introduced to like 50 new characters, and why are they acting like I know what the hell an alchemist is?" It's because Brotherhood thinks you've seen 03.

The first 7 or so episodes of Brotherhood constitute dozens of chapters in the manga, and the first 25 or so episodes of the original Fullmetal Alchemist. The Nina Tucker episode in Brotherhood, in FMA 03 takes up nearly three episodes. Yoki gets a backstory in 03 and it's genuinely one of the best episodes and taken directly from the manga and Brotherhood glosses over it because: duh, you've already seen it. And so if you skip the original you miss out on dozens of really great character building episodes like Ed and Al meeting Hughes for the first time and getting to spend a whole episode helping him free a train from terrorists, or Ed and Roy having a duel that expands on the relationship they have, or episodes where the brothers just help out random people in towns before the major story gets going.

The original also paces itself quite a bit better than Brotherhood and is more in line with the mangas storytelling. In the manga we don't find out about The Gate until nearly two dozen chapters in, and the same goes for the original anime. Like, that's a twist reveal in those stories, and it's weird that the most watched series is the one where they tell you all about The Gate in the first two episodes because they assume you've already seen the original show.

What's more, people don't know that Hiromu Arakawa helped write for the anime while she was still in the middle of writing the manga, and as a result was inspired to write scenes in Brotherhood that the anime did first. That scene of Edward getting impaled by a falling beam? Directly inspired by a similar scene in the original anime. There's a lot of little instances of that and they're great when you can recognize parallels and things in Brotherhood that are direct references to the original anime, but people don't notice any of that anymore. Because the original anime is just an automatic skip these days, and it's a bummer because people don't realize what a giant it was back before Brotherhood was released. They treat it as *bad,* not realizing it was one of the most beloved anime of its time and the problems people take issue with have a lot more to do with personal taste than any kind of actual flaw in the writing. Brotherhood was never meant to dethrone it, and the original anime was always supposed to be part of the viewing experience which is why those first few episodes of Brotherhood are so fast paced. So like, please stop telling people Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is a skip, or it's bad, or you don't need it because Brotherhood is better. Regardless if you think Brotherhood is better or not, the original wrote Brotherhood's check. It was huge, it was beloved, and Brotherhood is *banking* on the knowledge you've seen all of it and loved it. And trust me when I say there is so much to love about the original series. It's still my favorite branch of the FMA franchise, and it's worth your time, I promise you.

[babybluebae-933]

okay but hang on does mike not know that will is lying about the painting? It’s one of the first things eleven tells him in s4; Will is painting something special and she thinks he must like a girl and that’s who it’s for. whyyyyyy would she tell him that if it’s a painting she commissioned for him?

I don’t think the disappointment in the van scene is because he thinks the painting was actually commissioned by el, I think he knows it’s from will, for him. And his wildest dreams have told him that it meant something special. That he means something special to will. It would be crazy for him to say it out loud because they’re best friends. They’re just friends. And he has a girlfriend, who he… cares about.

But somewhere deep inside of him, he was hoping that will would be the brave one. That he would be the one to do it, to say what’s unsaid, to make mike feel better like he always does. Find a way to explain what’s been happening between them the last two years. He wants to talk to him so bad; he calls all the time, but the line is always busy. Is it normal to be this upset over a best friend? He doesn’t know but he can’t think about it, not really.

He thought will would be brave, the one to admit it. I’m not joking, unless you are. I would be with you forever if you just asked, but if you don’t then I never will either and we’ll just stay like this. The only thing worse than loving you would be losing your friendship. Have you ever felt guilty about how much you cared about a friend that was actually just a friend?

He has just realized what he wanted. It came the closest to the surface that it ever has, he was as hopeful as he ever has been. But it turns out its from el. Or at least that’s what will wants him to think, and why would he lie about that? Friends don’t lie. Will won’t say anything; it was stupid to think that he would anyways.

If mike wheeler had one fucking brain cell to spare, he would figure out that will lied about the painting because he loves him. He made it for him because he loves him, and he lied about who it’s from because he loves him. But that sounds too good to be true, so he concedes within himself and says okay, maybe will made this for me because he cares about me but more important than that, he wants me to be with eleven. It doesn’t even occur to him that will could want to be with him but would rather mike stay with el and never find out the truth if that’s what would make him happiest.

He’s smart enough to figure out what’s really going on in the van scene, he’s just not confident enough to believe that it could be real. It is too good to be true, so it must not be.

Mike is realizing in this moment that he is upset that the painting is from his girlfriend not will. It’s obvious if he did have any feelings for mike, he doesn’t want to share them. And he wants mike to be with el. And because mike cares about will more than anything, that’s what he’ll do. Will told him to say the thing to el? He’ll say it. Will told him el loves him and needs him? That’s where he’ll be.

It’s the same look at the end of s3 after el kissed him and said she loves him back.

Wasn’t that exactly what I wanted?

Why does it feel like this?

Why doesn’t it feel good?

Why am I thinking about will?

There are some desires held so deep within us, you can’t even acknowledge the possibility of it until it’s actually physically happening, it would be too devastating otherwise. To admit even to yourself, that you want this thing that is so stupid and so impossible and so weird and so unacceptable. It’s better to never acknowledge what you want than it is to really really want something that you can’t have. Especially about this stuff. Because it doesn’t end at feelings for will, if this happens it means the entire rest of his life is different. And that sounds dramatic but really it’s not, what if I acknowledge my feelings for this person and what they really are, and what if I can’t have it? My world is shattered, the bubble is burst. And I don’t even get what I wanted. Especially in the 80s. he would be ostracized, judged. Different for life, weird for life. If he can’t have what he really truly wants, why shouldn’t he have the next best thing? A normal easy uncomplicated life with eleven. With a girl.

Mike is smart we’ve seen that. I think he knows el didn’t commission the painting. He's upset that will said the painting is from el, and he’s upset that deep down he really wanted it to be from will. But he doesn’t know what this kind of upset means, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

mark my words s5 will be PACKED full of anxious overthinking overanalyzing mike wheeler and i cannot fucking wait.

[noxiatoxia]

Mikan wants to be "forgiven"...but what does that really mean?

Hello. This is something that has been quietly on my mind for a while.

It's something shown in the game in chapter 3. Mikan really focuses in on "being forgiven".

And while not a mistranslation per se, I think it's inaccurate to what is happening in the game.

I've talked about this extensively - the fact ENG DR team has a very bad habit of translating things literally or very directly. This leads to either clunky dialogue, missed nuances, or just incorrect interpretations sometimes.

I think this in particular falls somewhere between 2 and 3. I'll explain why.

If translated literally, the English text works just fine, but as with a lot of literal translation, it misses the "feeling" of what was trying to be conveyed. If you want my translation...

Mikan: Won't someone just tell me what I did wrong!? Why won't anyone just let it be already!?

While Mikan doesn't say "What did I do wrong", there is a subtle emphasis on her talking about herself...I feel like it's a more natural way to word what is essentially "What is it that I did differently [to warrant this]?"

Anyways, to the main point...I hope you can kind of see what I'm getting at.

"Forgive" feels like...Mikan is seeking people to "pardon" her for perceived wrong-doings. And while not untrue I would say, the way Mikan specifically uses the word and the context it is in, to me, feels much more like she is using it like "allow" or "excuse".

Let me use another example to better explain myself.

The last line to me reads like Mikan needed this person to pardon her for being born; for existing. That her existence in and of itself was a mistake or wrong-doing that needed to be forgiven.

I think that's missing the point, though.

Mikan: They allowed me to exist.

See, the point is...Mikan is a very troubled person. She admits as much in the freetime events that wherever she goes, she is horribly bullied just for existing. That she hated being bullied, but even more she hates being forgotten.

She emphasizes her beloved (Junko) did not hate her, and in fact allowed her presence...

This line was heavily misread, I think. 許して受け入れて was read as two verbs in one sentence (which it is) but as "forgive and accept" which is incorrect to what it means. It's closer to "they tolerated me" (like, accepting and moving on). Which comes to how I would translate it, and my final point:

Mikan: They accepted me for who I am.

This is why I think the "forgive" thing is not only incorrect, but actually opposite of what this scene was going for. Junko did not "forgive" Mikan for the sin of existing. Rather, she was the only person who seemed to not mind that she existed, that didn't bully or ignore her.

She didn't "forgive" Mikan, she allowed her to be herself.

Another reason DR3 totally missed the mark, but I digress...

I guess while I'm on the topic, we all know that scene where Mikan has a little back-and-forth with Nagito...that, too, was misrepresented somewhat.

Putting the English here just for comparison sake. And while not the worst translation in the world, it certainly isn't how I would go about it.

Nagito: I don't...really get what you're trying to say... Mikan: Oh, you don't? (lit: you don't understand?) Mikan: Is that because you don't have any loved ones in your life? Mikan: Is it because there's no one who will love you?* Mikan: Oh, you poor thing...I feel very sorry for you.

*Literally speaking, she says "Is it because you are a person nobody allows" but considering the context thus far, it's easy to conclude she means that there's no one who will love/accept him for who he is.

*Adding "also" to the line is a mistranslation, I believe. も means also but it is also used for emphasis, which I think it is here. Not that it's impossible Mikan is using it to say "also", but in these lines of dialogue she is intentionally contrasting how she does have someone who loves her and that she can love, so to then identify a similarity between her and Nagito, I think, wouldn't make much sense...

Mikan is one of my favorite characters, so little details like this matter a lot to me.

[ssentimentals]

Hihi, i love your writing and wanted to make a request during the last prompt list but was too chicken to do so🫣

If it's okay, could you do prompt 15. Soulmates with woozi?💜

Thanks you💜

hihi dearest, oh nooo please, never hesitate to request anything when i do prompt list, i'd be so happy to write your request! thank you for requesting this time though 💜

prompt soulmates

usually the string can be barely seen and jihoon doesn't even feel it half of a time. it stayed light gray color for the most of his life and he even forgot about it for quite some time, but then he enrolled into this new internship program and the string's color changed to prominent red in a week. having soulmates is not a common thing in this world, but jihoon knew very well the meaning behind a color change - his soulmate was close. wrapped neatly around his pinky, the string of fate usually held barely any weight but in last few days everything changed - he started to feel it, especially tiny tugs now and then. it's... jihoon is not sure how to react. he always considered himself lucky for having a soulmate when half of the world doesn't, but the more time passed with no signs of the string ever awakening, he sort of.. forgot. felt disappointed and let down. and now that it's glaringly red he's simply at loss. there's a whole myriad of emotions inside: anticipation, hope, fear, excitement, anxiety. whenever he looks down at his hand now he sees the string of fate so clearly, it blows his mind that sometime soon he's going to meet his soulmate.

'i'll go get coffee,' jihoon mumbles quietly enough to not disturb anyone at the open space. soulmates are nice and whatnot, but excel files are kicking his ass more than he'd like to admit. 'anyone wants something?'

several people voice out their drinks of choice and jihoon hurriedly rushes to cafeteria on the 1st floor, praying that by the time he comes back that excel sheet will just solve itself. he stands in the queue when he feels a firm tug on his pinky finger. the string almost glows, pulses and to jihoon's utter shock it starts to appear more and more. it always used to be just a small little thing wrapped around his finger but now he watches it transform into an actual string, glowing red and seemingly...going somewhere.

'next! what's your order?'

jihoon abondons his place in the queue, following the string instead. with a hammering heart he lets it lead him through the crowd, he side-steps people, feeling his palms getting sweaty from the nerves. is this actually happening? is he about to-

'oh my god, i'm so sorry!'

in his dreams, jihoon is very smooth. he maybe says a joke, maybe goes for a cheesy pick-up line, does whatever it takes to appear cool and friendly. in reality though he bumps into you full-force and stammers his apologies in a very not cool fashion.

'no-no, it's alright, i wasn't looking-' he pauses, noticing how red string connects your pinkies. it's glowing too. 'oh.'

in his dreams, jihoon knows what to do. he maybe goes for a handshake or a hug, maybe he suggests taking this somewhere else. in reality though he stares wide-eyed at the beautiful girl in front of him and his head is blank. it's not an earth-shattering moment of meeting you, because you already feel safe, familiar, easy, his. but he is not sure how he can say this without sounding like a total creep.

'it's well overdue,' you say, saving him from awkward silence. you're blushing slightly and jihoon can't keep his eyes off you. 'meeting you, i mean. i kind of thought it'd never happen.'

'yeah..' he agrees and quickly shoots his hand out to shield you from few guys who don't look where they're going. 'but it did.'

'it did.' you echo, looking at him like you can't believe he's real. frankly, jihoon doesn't believe you're real either. 'um, i-'

'can i get your number?' jihoon asks, grimacing at how not smooth that was. 'so we can- i mean i wanted to-' he reaches out, unsure. he wants to touch you, hug you, prove to himself that you're not a figment of his imagination. 'can i also..hold your hand? shit, sorry, that's probably so-'

you shut him up by taking his hand in yours. the fact that you did not disappear and that your palm is warm and dry against his cold and sweaty one makes him sigh in relief. 'i'm sorry that it's sweaty, i'm just nervous,' he mutters. he kind of doesn't want to let go of your hand now.

'it's alright,' you assure him and don't let his hand go. 'can you give me your phone? i will save my number.'

you don't let go while you do that. you hold his hand securely and jihoon wonders if you also feel like him. if he also feels for you like he is your person. jihoon hopes he does. and even if not - he is determined to take his time and make sure that at one point you will think of him that way. today or tomorrow or after few months or even years.

a/n: hopefully you liked it, let me know! <3 - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen works are here

[danaan13]

After the doctors had left for the evening, and the only ones around were the night nurses, I leaned to the side to peer out of the room door. No one in sight. I burrowed down under my covers and cupped my hands together. Inside the bowl shape my hands made, a tiny magic light bloomed. I let the spell go. And I settled back in bed with a very thoughtful frown.

I could still do magic. What the hell?

When I'd said something about it to the doctor earlier, he ordered tests to check my senses and my brain. He suggested that I'd probably just been eating some wild plant that gave me hallucinations.

I looked at the clawed scars on my right arm. No. Pretty sure I hadn't been hallucinating. What the hell?

I rubbed my eyes. I wasn't sure what to do. Could I go back to being normal after this?

When I dropped my hand back to my lap and opened my eyes, there was a tiny old man sitting in a chair next to my bed. I yelped in surprise and he just smiled. "My apologies. But please... remain calm. We don't want the nurses getting suspicious."

I frowned and said. "Who are you? How did... Where did you come from? That chair was not here before!"

The man nodded. "And it won't be here when I'm gone. My name is Francis. I'm from the Narnoona Association. As for the how... Magic. Like what you just hid under the blanket a minute ago."

I scowled at him and muttered, "Narnia? Really?"

He laughed. "Narn-oo-na. Similar. But not the same. C.S. Lewis had some pretty similar ideas. But no. We're been around longer."

The man crossed his legs and smiled quietly again. "In short, we're a group that tracks and maintains access to portions of our world, where magic coalesces and thrives. I'm sure you're imaginative enough to know how wrecked modern society would be if magic got out. Especially uncontrolled."

I scowled a bit more. "You mean how wrecked capitalism would be."

The man grimaced then and nodded. "Well... that too. I was actually referring to the part where people who shouldn't have power would use it to make things worse for those who are too tired to fight back, because of current socio-economic circumstances."

He looked up at me then, eyes seeming to read right through me. "Though, based on your statement, perhaps you're more suited for our sister organization. Yes... I think so."

He stood up then and tapped the chair. Which then completely disappeared, as if it had never been there at all. He smiled at me again. "Expect a visitor in the morning. She'll introduce herself as your Aunt Katy. Go along with it. You won't regret it."

He winked and then turned around. And disappeared. Like the chair.

What the hell?

I fumed and ruminated on this for a bit. Until exhaustion won and I fell asleep. I told no one, when the next morning came around. It's not like they'd believe me.

And surely enough, about midmorning, a nurse bounced right into my room with a bright smile. "Guess what! We found a member of your family! Your Aunt Katy is here to take you home!"

Behind the nurse, a tall amazon of a woman strode in. She wore the sharpest, sleekest black suit dress I'd ever seen walk off an Armani runway. Perfectly pinned hair, bright red lipstick, and a vibe that screamed Professional.

Professional what? Hell, if I know. But I felt that everyone must believe every word that ever came out of her mouth.

I put on a quick smile. "Aunt Katy? Wow... That was fast!"

Katy somehow became motherly, as she swept forward and hugged me. "Oh it's really you! We were so worried. Well... don't you fear. We'll have you home and sorted today. I promise!"

The nurse beamed and said, "I'll go start the paperwork!"

And then we were alone. The aura of masks seemed to slip from Katy just a little. Her smile relaxed. "I'm Katherine, from The Odyssey Corps. Francis notified me that you'd be a fit for us. He also mentioned he didn't really explain anything. Don't worry. He's just a mischievous fucker like that. I'll read you in once we're somewhere secure. But for now... Trust me. It's not as bad as you think. If you're even half as powerful as Francis said, we'll finally be able to move on certain figures."

I just nodded.

At this point, the nurse came back with a clipboard for "Aunt Katy". She looked it over and then signed it. "Alright, sweetheart. Let's get you home!" she chirped, before handing me a bag with clean clothes.

Very expensive clean clothes. I quickly smiled and went to get dressed.

Why did the island with the demons seem less scary now?

What the hell?

You're in a hospital after surviving for 3 years in the wilderness. What a way to find out that plane crash didn't isekai you. Once everything settles down, you begin to wonder... If this wasn't another world, how are you able to use magic now, and why did that island have demon beasts?

[avifaunaa]

i tasted ash and knew [ it was you ] [ r.v. ] [ pt.4 ]

Authors Note: my head hurts and it is not because rio is holding a gun to it. i was not entirely happy with how this turned out so pleaaaase be gentle. did i forget anyone in the taglist? i hope not.

MORE useless facts? More likely than you think:

Elvis Presley had his first song released on the radio in July of 1954 but he himself wouldn't reach popularity and fame until 1956

Adding to this -- he was considered a bad influence to the teenage youth of the time because his genre of music was Rock'N'Roll which most of white society believed to be "devil's music" and had extreme racist connotations to it.

The fifties was full of wackie things but some of my favorites include their slang. It actually wasn’t too entirely far off from modern day slang and we still use some of it [ example 1: a popular girl / woman in the fifties could have been called a queen in slang — we use this term today to describe anyone in general who we hold in high regard or who has a certain aspect of note ] [ examples 2: ankle-biter was used to describe small children, and dreamboats were used to describe cute guys, and “what’s the big deal?” was asked in place of, “who cares, man?” lol ]

Reader is notably pointed out to be somewhat terrified at being caught with Rio and it’s mentioned that their reputations and lives could be ruined. This was entirely too true, but it was also very unfortunately illegal to be homosexual in the United States during their flashbacks and was extremely tricky in theCivil Rights world. The Lavender Scare prevented [ suspected ] homosexuals from working for the federal government when it was enacted in 1953. It took years to unravel this mess and it wasn’t until 2003 when Lawerence v. Texas ruled that the “homosexual conduct” law was unconstitutional and therefore decriminalizes homosexuality in general and helps create a new stepping stone into legalizing gay marriages. The LGBTQIA+ laws have always been finicky in the U.S.

Masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FIVE

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Fem!Reader

Summary: Life becomes something you know longer had control over in your small enclosure in which Rio kept you. She seems to be hovering more and leaving you alone less, adding to your lowered temper and a heightened protectiveness she can't reign in. Her lack of watchfulness catches the eye of someone who seeks out Death for themselves . . .

Content Warnings: Still dark, that will not be changing soon -- flashbacks that contain period-typical homophobia and views on gender-norms, threats of violence [ rio receiving, as always ], misuse of magic [ rio ], manipulation, disassociation [ reader ], PREGNANCY and symptoms associated w/ it: morning sickness, cravings , fatigue, etc. [ r ], forced housewifeism[?] [ reader ], possessive behavior, more intense Stockholm Syndrome, dub-con bordering on non-con [ r!receiving ], fingering [ r!receving ], first time lesbian sex, rio using sex and r's naivety to avoid being called out lmao, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES

Word Count: ~6.3k

1954

The kiss was everything you've ever wanted and nothing you should ever have thought about in the first place. Rio had promised nobody could have seen it, the way she held you so gently with softer hands than any man could ever have.

But even when you both exited the Ferris Wheel ride at a proper distance, you could not help but glance around with paranoia buzzing around your brain. What if even one person saw? Westview was large enough to not know everyone but small enough to know enough people that gossip and news would cause a deep rift.

Nobody was looking at either of you -- or acting as though there had been a whisper of what you had just done in that car where the stars were your only judges.

Your lips still had a tingle to them and there was a taste that remained in your mouth -- one you knew would be remembered for the rest of your life. It was wild and free and so Rio and that is why it was so wrong.

The bustling of the fair soon became background noise as the two of you and many other patrons were making your way out of the fairgrounds toward the fields where Rio's car was. You held your duck prize in your arms -- the only other witness to your damning kiss.

You could feel her eyes on you during the trek to the car, a weight you would not address until you were inside and away from overhearing ears and busybodies that had nothing but snooping to fill their time.

Rio opened your door for you and waited stubbornly until you got inside. She smiled sweetly as you bent low to get into the passengers seat and shut the door before rounding to the other side to the driver's seat.

The car started up and the radio followed -- in the middle of a brand new artist that your mother warned you to not take to.

Elvis Presley had a nice voice and his music was fresh -- even if many of the older generation feared it would lead their children down the wrong path. You quite liked his song even if your neighbors mumbled about wondering where the world was going.

Rio didn't start to drive off after the car started, instead letting it run as she held her hands flat on the steering wheel and clearing her throat. "Are you okay?"

“You shouldn’t have . . . “ you started, stuttering out like a bad engine as your throat felt dryer than it had been when you were thinking of what to say, “. . . Why did you . . . You shouldn’t have,” you repeated, deciding the question was not worth trying to seek an answer for.

Rio, however, didn’t appear to agree. When you mustered up the courage to look — actually look — at her, she had some sort of expression on her face. An expression that puzzled and scared you.

“Why not?” she only asked eventually.

Two simple words that formed an entirely too difficult question. Why not? she asked, as if you had told her no, no going out for dinner tonight.

Rio had kissed you. Publicly and without hesitation or an ounce of concern for what consequences could have followed should you have been seen.

“It isn’t right, Rio,” you told her.

“Whose word claim that it is not right for me to kiss you?” she pushed. A hand was covering yours, cooler on contact but comforting all the same. “You kissed me back.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your head away, ignoring the way she pointed out the facts and tried to reveal your true self.

“You can’t even look at me in the eye when you tell me it isn’t right, Angel,” Rio continued softly — so softly that you trembled in place. “That tells me that more than anything, it was exactly right and you’re too scared to embrace it.”

“I am scared,” you whispered, “and perhaps that is what you should be as well. They are warning people about . . . About homosexuals, Rio. They’re teaching society how to spot them and . . . I simply cannot fall into this affair with you. I could lose everything.”

A soft pressure applied to your hand, forcing you to turn your head to her. You didn’t mind if she saw your tears — she’s seen them countless times after the death of your husband.

“The world cannot tell us how to feel, Angel,” she stated firmly, eyes hardened as she reached over with her empty hand. You flinched — and she only paused briefly — before she continued to reach out and brush your tears away. “They fear what they do not understand and they only understand what they think they know. What they know is very little, and thus rebirths a cycle of the same thing.”

You sniffed, lowering your face into her swiping thumb as her fingers made light strokes that captured any wayward tears.

“I don’t have anymore room for pain, Rio,” you rasped finally. “I am at my threshold.”

“Then trust me one more time,” the woman murmured, not quite begging but coaxing and sweet as she moved the hand on top of yours to play with your hair, “I would never hurt you.”

A million things could go wrong — you were thinking of so many right now alone. What if your neighbors happened by and peeked into the window? Your parents inquired too deeply and you couldn’t keep a secret? The gossip mill began to burst into flames because too many eyes caught you and Rio too many times in different ways?

Soft lips to your forehead ripped you away from spiraling, and that kiss alone made you feel like everything could be okay . . . Even for a moment.

“Okay,” you whispered as you tipped over the edge of caution and into dangerous waters, “I trust you, Rio.”

2024

There was sweat collecting on your forehead and sticking to the back of your shirt as Rio held your hair back for the fifth time this morning. It started around three A.M. — startling awake and bumping your shoulder roughly into the wall to get into the bathroom.

“How do you have anything left in your stomach?” Rio wondered as you spit the remnants of bile into the bowl.

Your fingernails bite into the rivets of the tile, keeping yourself curled over the opening. Another shudder rippled over you, the nausea painful this time around.

But Rio brushed fingers against your temple and then the nausea was gone.

“No magic,” you rasped. Your nausea was gone but the you throat burned and you had an awful aftertaste remaining on your tongue.

Snot was collecting on the ends of your nostrils and you reached up to wipe it but Rio was already there, toilet paper dabbing away the mucus.

“Don’t . . . Don’t touch me,” you hissed meekly.

Rio snorted softly, hand returning to the back of your neck and massaging gently. “Want to get in the shower? Or do you want a bath with some lavender salts?”

I just want you to leave me alone, your hindbrain murmured, but you moved your gaze toward those dark eyes. They were concerned and her nose had a wrinkle to it like she did when in thought.

“The bath, please.”

Gentle fingers sweeping your hair back, tucking behind ears. Warm lips on your damp temple. “A bath it is, sweetheart. Think you can stand?”

“No.”

Rio helped you to lean against the back of the wall while she started the jacuzzi style bath, adding the bath salts and some dried flower petals for good measure. You watched her exit the bedroom, too tired to suspiciously ask her what the hell she was doing. She returned with a few items — a plate of chocolate covered strawberries drizzled with chocolate icing, your water bottle that magically had fresh ice and water, a book you were currently reading through, and a box that you couldn’t read the label of.

You closed your eyes and wrapped an arm around your stomach in an attempt to prevent the room from spinning. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you relax.”

You didn’t respond until you heard her approach you again and balance something light on your knee. You opened your eyes and moved them to what she was trying to give you.

A store-bought pregnancy test.

Your brain-fog cleared very quickly — replaced by a rush of frustration and an unexplainable emotion.

“I don’t need the fucking test and we both know it, Rio,” you started, hating how unlike yourself you sounded. You quickly bit the inside of your cheek until you could taste blood. Why must she rub in the humiliation and helplessness further?

"You told me no magic," Rio reminded you dutifully, but with a sprinkle of some sort of warning that the animal in you couldn't seem to ignore. "This is how we get the confirmation without the use of magic."

Your lip curled in reaction to her words as she balanced the box on your knee precariously, palm keeping it steady while her fingers became weights against the skin of your knees.

"You used magic when you . . ." You could not bring yourself to speak your thoughts out loud, afraid of what it might mean to have it in the open. "You know I don't need it," you spat.

"This isn't a punishment, Angel," she replied, tone softening the blow of her words as her other hand made home on your ankle. "This is a way to understand that my magic only did so much and your body did the rest. If nothing else -- would it not settle your mind better having the physical proof instead of feeling like you're going crazy?"

White-hot anger replaced whatever numbness had taken root in your heart -- a common experience in the time Rio had recaptured you. "I didn't get the choice, Rio. You took that away from me, remember?"

Something in her eyes muted -- like a flame being extinguished or headlights being turned off suddenly. It was swift, and she did not dwell on it as she removed her hand from your knee until the box dangled until falling into your lap.

"Just take it," the witch told you, reaching forward to stick some hair behind your shoulder. "It will answer many questions you've been unable to stop repeating in to yourself over and over. It will also put an end to the cycle of anxiety and what-ifs in your head. We will deal with the aftermath later."

She says that so fucking confidently, like she just . . . knows you.

She does.

Then you reel back on the last sentence of what she said and stared blankly in her direction.

The aftermath . . . the fucking aftermath. Rio knew the results already and still insisted on you taking it as though she fucking cared that it would ease some of your worries. The relief of getting a confirmation of the sickness you felt would be replaced by the endless gaping hole of realization you'd be trapped.

You took the box in hand and clutched it like a lifeline, nearly crushing it as you stared daggers at the woman face to face with you.

“Get out.”

Rio eyes you momentarily, debating on whether or not to listen to your demand. Eventually she does, and shuts the door behind you. You remain in place for five minutes longer and then slowly get to your feet and peel open the box.

You take the test and set it in the sink before undressing for your bath. Rio did make it look so inviting and you didn’t miss the chance to sink deep into the bath water, a breath escaping deep from your nostrils.

Your hand drifted down to your abdomen where so much of your turmoil currently lies and yet . . .

The way Rio had looked at you was both emotionally taxing and empowering and perhaps that was the most significant aspect of it all. She was clever in her ways — her slow, slow, invasion into your life the first time and how quickly she adapted the second go around.

You do not read your book even though you desire to. The bath overtook your senses and your mind not long after sinking into the tub. Your hair was pulled up and your thoughts were slowly beginning to drift from the worry and frustration into contentment that you chose to embrace while it lasted.

You fell asleep — at least, you were sure you did — because Rio opened the door and startled you. You blinked and rose upward against the slope of the tub and watched the witch move toward you with bleary eyes until she was on her knees, arm resting on the edge of the tub.

“Feeling any better, Angel?” she asked. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was concern in that question.

You were too tired to fight, too tired to put up a front. Your anger and dismay were a coiled, rigid ball inside of your soul and it was exhausting trying to unwind it and make it a weapon against Rio.

Your fist rose to your chest and you let out a shallow breath, rubbing the spot where those emotions remain dormant until you reached inside deep, deep, deep . . .

“Angel?”

You flutter your attention back to her. She’s frowning and the lines along her lips give you the impression of a woman with the daily stressors — a mortal that knows her time is limited.

You hated that she gave herself those details, that she made herself look so fucking human.

You breathed out again and let your hand fall back into the lavender scented water. “I’m fine, just tired,” you told her truthfully. “I think I dozed off.”

Rio let out a half-laugh, quiet and cut off as she softened her smile with adoration that gave you this twisted feeling of affection you remember once freely giving.

You wished you could hate her more than you were growing to love her again — but Rio knew exactly what she was doing and you had no defenses to prevent it.

And now your exhaustion and anxiety were tearing apart the last vestiges of your resolve. She reached her hand over and stroked your bare shoulder tenderly, and goddamnit you cracked under the touch. The gentleness and how your body became relaxed.

“Let’s empty the tub and get you showered,” Rio murmured, offering the kindness of suggestion rather than ordering you, “and then we can go downstairs and watch a movie.”

Piece by piece she removed your carefully crafted exterior, hardened by years and yet easily broken by her intricate mindset alone.

“Okay,” you agreed, watching as she shifted down the large tub and dipping her hand inside to search for the stopper. You stood up and crossed your arms over the front of your body, head swimming.

Rio held out her slender hand to you, palm upward and locking eyes with you. It was an offer to help you step out of the tub as if she knew you what you were feeling -- because of course she did.

You took her hand and she was so gentle as she curled her fingers through yours and guided you out of the tub and toward the large shower.

"You look green," Rio murmured as she slid open the door and guides you to sit on the tiled seat inside of the shower. "Wait right here, okay, Angel? I'm going to get undressed and I'll help you."

"Rio . . ." You crossed your ankles and watched her back out and begin to remove her layers. "Rio I can shower on my own. The dizziness is wearing off."

"I'd rather not take that chance, sweetheart," the black-haired beauty countered as she finished undressing and stepped back inside and began fiddling with the handles of the shower. You tried not to stare at her as her pale form moved passed you like a ghost.

You were sure your skin was turning red from the sheer embarrassment of her being naked and so close . . . the last time that happened it wasn't in your favor and it tainted the memories that were once good.

Fighting was tiring, and being trapped here was difficult. You were scared and traumatized but something Rio never did was harm you -- not like she couldn’t if she truly desired to do so. You have seen the damage she and other witches can do.

Perhaps it was time to just . . . Find a middle ground. Somewhere where you don’t have to rip each other open whenever you crossed paths.

Would that end better? For both of you?

She must have felt your eyes on her because the water turned on and she turned around. Droplets soaked into her skin and she leaned back against the wall, watching you while you watched her.

“You’re very quiet which means you’re thinking heavy,” Rio regarded, not a question but rather an observation from the woman who has known you far longer than people usually know one another. “Wanna share?”

You blink at her through the rain shower-head and slowly lifted one of your hands and extended your arm. It crossed into the falling water just as Rio’s eyebrows shot up into her damp hairline.

“Help me up?” you said to her. Not a defeat, no shame. You ensured to bury your hatchet behind a certain line and she would need to tread it close.

She pushed off the wall and slid her fingers into yours, leaning down to pull you up until you were pressed together under the heat of the showerhead, breasts touching, noses brushing.

“Are you okay?” she inquired, seeking out something that she wouldn’t be getting. You were burying apart of yourself so deeply that not even you would likely find it again — but that was fine. She didn’t need that part of you and nor did you.

You allowed a smile to cross your features, timid and true as you felt in that moment. “I think so. Just tired and scared.”

Rio breathed out a heavy sigh and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a hug that surprised even you. Rio wasn’t much of a hugger even if she was touchy. But you rest your chin on her shoulder and close your eyes as bullets of piercing water seep into your skin, washing away the ruins and remains of who you used to be.

1955

You and Rio had your own New Years Eve celebration with some of her colleagues from the drugstore. You were initially hesitant to agree to the party due to the suspicion and questions it would raise, but Rio was on the opposite end of the scale from you.

“Do you think you could make those creamed peas and onions that you seem to get perfect everytime, Angel?” your . . . Partner? was asking you as she adjusted her work outfit for the day in the bathroom mirror.

“I wouldn’t see why not, but Rio —“

“Chicken pot pie would be the main dish to go well, I think,” she continued over your attempt to question her as she came out of the bathroom, makeup applied.

“Rio.”

“Lemon pie for desert,” she was saying, and you clenched your fists in your lap.

“Rio!” you shouted, overwhelmed and frustrated at being ignored.

She dropped altogether and eyes you, pausing whatever it was she had started doing. “I do not,” you said, in a shaky but lowered tone, “believe it is in our best interests to host any sort of party. Have you flipped your lid?”

Rio huffed at your verbiage. She wasn’t fond of using slang that seemed to be growing popular as the years progressed, but some of it was getting its hooks into you — and no amount of her kissing you could stop you from saying them to her between fits of giggles.

But you weren’t joking right now, and she could see how tightly wound you were physically. Your hands curled into your nightgown and your eyes darting nervously around the room like you were afraid something would leap from the shadows.

Rio had to remember that her ideas of what seemed okay were too far along compared to yours — she had thousands of years on you and that put things in perspective for her that you had yet to see.

Such as giving a shit what society thinks about you and her in the privacy of your own home.

She decided her best course of option was to deescalate and comfort before you reverted back into that part of you she still hadn’t been able to penetrate.

“Aw, Angel,” she said as she glided over to you and sat down next to you on the bed, sweeping up one of your hands in hers. “Is that’s what got you all busted up?”

Your lips pursed, but you notably did not jerk your hand from hers or move away. Good, you wanted her comfort.

“I meant what I said when we first started . . . Doing this,” you told her, adding a hint of firmness for good measure. “We have to be careful, Rio, we could be arrested.”

“I will not let that happen,” your partner said in a tone that had an edge to it, one you’ve not heard from her before.

“You won’t be able to stop it if we get caught and reported!” you shouted again, too strung up to sit still. You got to your feet and tucked your hands in your underarms as you shuffled to the windows to peer out into the leaking sunrise. “We don’t have the privilege of being like the Cassidy’s or the Cook’s, we have to remember what happens to people like us.”

Rio stayed where she was and rubbed her face. “I know you’re concerned — and I can see how it might create the fear of being caught, but I don’t think we’re under suspicion.”

“You don’t think?” you asked, turning on your heel. “You — you have to be sure. If you doubt . . . If you falter in whatever this is for one second, we could never find jobs, never live a normal life. . .”

“I’m not the only one who needs to remember that,” she retorted, not unkindly but pointedly, eyes sharp like a lioness.

Anything else you wanted to say died in your throat. The two of you stared at one another like you always did, the silent communication that held more words than most of your actual conversation.

Your eyes dropped bashfully and you understood she was right. Everything you felt was new and scary and wrong. But if you were experiencing those things, it should have occurred to you that perhaps Rio was too.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her after a brief, pregnant silence. “I shouldn’t have shouted.”

You heard the bed groan as Rio’s weight shifted off of it, the soft barefoot steps across the carpet. Then a hand cupping your cheek as she guided your face to peer at hers. She was so beautiful and she was everything that made what you knew your soul to be content.

The turmoil you fell into about this affair — was it an affair? — was so brushed away when she touched you like this. It burned you like a hot pan and healed your deepest wounds that no surgery would ever manage to fix.

In that alone — you knew she was who your being was drawn to. What the instinctual, animal side of your brain desired even though gospel and presidents warned of the dangers of these desires.

“When you shout it means you’re showing me something that you don’t normally reveal,” Rio admitted as she held you in the rising light of morning, “You lower that perfectly trained woman of etiquette and though she’s just as beautiful, I can’t help but want to see more beneath just her.”

It was a surprise — not because Rio had said it, it’s Rio — mostly due to the fact that you were never to give into the ugliest of your emotions.

“Shouting isn’t . . . Well, I shouldn’t do it. It’s not becoming and you didn’t deserve my anger," you deflected, averting your eyes as best you could. You did not keep your gaze away for long -- you felt drawn to peer at her again.

Rio was smiling once again, this time more mischievous and probing. “Oh, Angel. I don’t need you to pretend to not feel around me. I want it all — down to the very last drop of anger and resentment you hold.”

“I have no resentment, don’t be silly.”

A lie so terribly spoken that she grasped your chin and dragged you close, lips brushing. “Oh, yes you do. You have so much of it built up and it’s mixing with those other painful ones, too. Anger. Despair. Oh, it makes for the loveliest cocktails.”

You swallowed at the look in her eye, how she peered right through your skin and all the barriers you managed to keep solid for so long. Your heart rushed so quickly that you swore you heard it in your ears.

“It is ugly,” you insisted in a quiet breath, grasping her upper arm for balance as she wrapped her other around your lower back. “I am ugly under everything, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for how I feel when I’m happier with you than I ever was married to that husband I had. I hate myself for needing to seek out the acceptance of our neighbors when you don’t seem to give a penny how they feel. Mostly, I hate that there is so much about you that seems hidden and I haven’t been damned to uncover it.”

Rio kisses you them, a rough one compared to your first and the ones that had followed many times since. She pushes you against the window, her arm cushioning your bounce against the surface.

She pulls back for air briefly and pries your hand off her arm so she can run her fingers up the crevice of your neck.

“Nothing I have seen is ugly, and for that reason I dig for more until there is nothing left of you that I cannot know,” she whispered as her lips began making ghost brushes under your ear.

“I know you’re lying to be about so many things,” you stutter out between her kisses and feather-light touches to your burning skin, “and maybe I should have listened to my mother when she told me to run.”

“But you didn’t,” Rio purred, sending vibrations through your jaw and neck. You shivered from the ministrations as her fingers started to go lower, lower, “You’re ignoring every part of your primal instinct that orders you to run, to get away from me.”

“I feel safe with you. I want you. I need you. And I don’t know why,” you got out, blinking tears away until they left tracks on your flushed cheeks. “You saved me and doomed me the second you appeared at my door and I love you for it.”

“My Angel,” Rio murmured as she found your heat, tracing just outside and finding you disgustingly wet there. You turned your head away in shame and she nipped your skin. “Don’t you dare look away from me. Your pleasure is mine and it means you adore me so.”

“It is wrong.”

“You can say it as many times as you need to make you feel better,” the woman promised as she sank her index finger into you and brushed her thumb so gently over the bundle of nerves above your pussy.

You knew how to find pleasure and the way it made you feel -- but it had been so long since you had experienced it. Your marriage failing first, the death of your husband second . . . and what was self-pleasure good for? It was unbecoming.

Your husband -- before he was ever that, when he was good and charming and who you thought you could live that happy existence with -- had been somewhat of a clumsy boy during your youths. You fooled around and looked for places on one another that were just simply taboo but it wouldn't matter later, you had planned to spend your lives intertwined and so what harm would getting to know the body of each other do?

Two years into the marriage fresh out of school, him working long hours and you figuring out how to care for a home . . . it broke you both and turned him into something inhuman.

“It won’t make your feelings any less powerful, nor will it turn me away," your lover continued, breath hot against you.

You felt as though cotton was being stuffed violently into your ears until your brain was no longer functional the more she spoke and touched, and aggravated your lust.

"Who was your husband, Rio?" you whispered out so quietly that for a second, you did not think she would hear it. Your throat was dry from the heavy gasps and moans she'd drawn from you, adding to the difficulty in speaking.

She pressed her front against you, getting better leverage as she started to move inside of you in the same sweet way in which she held you and kissed you. Your head leaned back when her thumb started making circles in a way that you’ve never managed to do properly to yourself. Is this what feeling good was?

It felt . . . this was better than everything you've ever had done before. One man you'd known since teenagers and things had gone to shit, but Rio wasn't inside of you to seek out her own release. She had no cock and only used her fingers expertly as though she did this perhaps to herself often.

"Rio," you whined as your forehead fell forward onto her shoulder, unable to keep your eyes open and on her as she'd requested. Touching yourself was never this fast and never yielded such quick results, but Rio was --

"You're so pretty like this," she told you in a cracked tone as the thumb on your clit started to speed up in movement as your demeanor started to become weaker. "Unable to hold yourself in that strong, perfect way you do to protect yourself."

There was a nagging prod in the back of your lower head and it was an instinctual knowing of importance. But your senses were overwhelmed and you felt so good right now -- how could anything else matter until you let such things pass?

“Rio Vidal has a completely blank canvas, sweetheart, and I’m afraid that means that no records indicate she was ever married, much less to a man in the service.”

Your eyes flew open suddenly just as the rush of your orgasm crashed against you. Your mouth had dropped open to question Rio again but only broken mewls and moans came out as she eased you through the devastating pleasure. You heard how her finger mixed with your fluids as she cooed in your ears and kissed down your neck.

She pulled out of you gently and held her finger up her mouth. You watched as she licked her finger clean of your shame and closed your eyes again, unable to watch your failure to once again confront her about these uneasy doubts that she was narrowly avoiding.

She presses a kiss to your forehead and sealed your fate into your skin.

2024

Rio settles you downstairs in the living room and patters around like a fussy nursemaid. She dims the lights and draws the blinds shut, followed by the airy curtains [ "Rio, the curtains are fine and won't make a difference if the blinds are closed," you told her from your spot. She ignored you, of course ].

She brought you some hot chocolate foamed with strawberry soft top, remembering one of your favorite ways to have the drink. One by one, little by little, she was tearing apart your defenses and you had no resources to rebuild them and fight her off.

Not in your state.

Tommy lay next to you in the crook of your curled legs, head resting on your thigh and intelligent eyes following every move Rio made with unnerving focus.

"I don't want him on the furniture," the witch told you as she sat down a plate of assorted snacks -- meats, cheeses, sweets, and crackers. Only a few nights ago you were both violently fighting one another and now she was doting on you.

You lifted a hand and stroked the dogs' ears. They were warm and velvety under your hand and provided an anchor when you were at risk to float away from reality again. "He stays," you replied without adding a bite. You didn't want an argument with her and in the past you would have even agreed with her if you'd have pets together.

Circumstances had changed and thus your views on even this. Tommy gave you back some of your lost defenses and you think Rio knew that -- because she decided dropping the topic was better than fighting you as she shook her head and took the spot on the other side of the couch with you.

"You're cleaning up his shed," Rio murmured as she wrapped an arm around you and picked up the remote to the television on the armrest.

Your only response was running your fingers through Tommy's sleek coat, dragging up loose fur onto the cushions as you did. Billy was laying under the coffee table batting at Rio's socked feet while she entertained his little game.

It was so fucking domestic.

You hated it.

You loved it.

"What do you feel like watching?" she asked, as she tugged her socked foot back to no avail. Billy had one of his claws hooked into the fabric and he seemed to be ready to tackle her ankle if she wasn't quick enough.

You took the remote from her and browsed her list of streaming services. "I have pretty much any streaming app, available at your leisure," she said as Billy tugged her sock off and kicked it with his hind leg. "You little shit."

Billy went after her other sock next as you flicked through until you found the service that had the reality TV show you'd been watching before you were taken.

She drew her foot up to rest against the edge of the couch as Billy pounced to capture it, his fluffy tail flicking back and forth and pupils thinned to slits. Rio looked mildly irritated.

Your lips quirked upward in a smile and you rest your head on her shoulder as you find the season and episode you had last left off on. "I don't remember you being into reality TV," she commented, palming Billy's face until his paws wrapped around her hand and he dug his teeth in.

"You get bored and branch out after centuries of having the same taste," you merely said as the intro to the show started playing. You brought the mug of hot chocolate to your lips and made to focus on the TV, trying to keep yourself settled for as long as you can until the panic returned.

"I will turn you into a fucking duster," Rio hissed at your cat as she shook him off. The cuts and marks from his rough play had healed instantly, not even drawing blood.

"Leave him alone, Rio."

"Are you kidding--" she started, but glanced over and stopped. You were content -- more than she'd ever seen you in a long time. Considering she had not seen you in a long time . . .

She pulled off her other sock and threw it for the tabby feline. He left Rio to chase it and the witch returned her attention to you, pressing a soft kiss on your head and listening to the murmur of the show you were watching.

Two episodes and some snacking later, it was disrupted. A ring at the door was startling and had Tommy's head shooting up, gaze staring hard at the archway that led to the entry room.

He was stiff even when you ran a hand across his back to soothe him as Rio got to her feet and spread the blanket she had magicked in across you. "I'll get it," she told you. "It's probably just a girl scout."

"Thin mints," you said easily, still stroking Tommy even if he was not responsive to your attempt at comfort.

Rio made her way to the door cautiously and prepared herself. She believed you were almost ready to entertain your high-end neighbors but she had not completely let up on the magic that had them forgetting to come greet the new neighbors yet.

She opened the door and plastered a confused but friendly expression on her face and stopped in her tracks at who she saw.

"Hi," the woman greeted politely, her own smile rising a little sheepishly on her face, though her eyes had a darker sparkle in them. "I'm your new neighbor, a few doors down, and heard you recently moved in too. I thought I'd say hello. My name is Wanda."

rio and reader will return in part five

PART FIVE

my often forgetful taglist: @dandelions4us , @flow33didontsmoke , @girlsgotissues

[deathnguts]

Au with no Voldemort or war yet Remus still found himself a world away from the rest of the marauders because while James Sirius and lily found themselves closer than ever (shameless plug for the perfect throuple come on) and Peter started finding his place in the world outside of his friend group, Remus just disappeared off the face of the planet when they graduated. All letters sent to him were sent back, all calls just rung until they ended, no one caught sight of him anywhere he used to say he would be, it was like their friend had vanished.

They only hear from him again five years later, when Harry is just about to turn two and they all fully believed their friend was dead but just never said it aloud. Lily always sent a letter to invite Remus to celebrations, even when she started to feel they would never be answered, but for some reason he had decided to answer this time. He writes back how he’s sorry he’s been busy but he’ll be there for Harry’s birthday.

They half expect him to ghost them again but sure enough, the day of the party, Remus is there. And in his arms is a squirmy four year old that looks just like him. He introduces his son as Teddy and is the calmest one in the room when he does so. The party goes off without a hitch, the only things causing them all to hold their breath being when their mutual friends try and berate Remus for disappearing but Remus just smiles this soft, sad little smile that can only come from growing up and apologizes again and again. After the party’s over and Harry and teddy are fast asleep upstairs, the marauders berate Remus. Any question about where he went is answered with ‘Teddy,’ any question about what he was doing is answered with ‘Teddy,’ and then the question on all their minds of who’s the other parents is answered with a choked up sort of silence before Remus pulls that smile again and shrugs.

They see Remus and teddy much more than before but still not as often as they’d like. Remus never answers any questions about his life that aren’t about Teddy, and everyone’s afraid to ask.

They never learn that Teddy’s other parent is Regulus, and they never learn that he’s dead. Remus never talks about how they left to elope, pushed into action by their accidental but heavily cherished pregnancy, and planned to see their friends again after their baby was born. Remus looks back at those months as the happiest of his life. Being married to the love of his life with their new family just starting to grow. They were so excited… but pregnancies within the house of black had always been hush hush for a reason. They were dangerous. Incest in a lineage can make pregnancies even more life or death. For regulus it was death, and Remus was left crying alone in their home, having only brought their son back from the hospital. Regulus had been left plenty of money from his grandfather’s will, making it very easy for Remus to let his grief turn him into a recluse focused solely on their baby. He only shook himself out of it when he realized that Teddy didn’t have a friend in the world besides him, and that wasn’t a way to live.

Anyway hella mourning the never gets better because regulus never stops being dead but Remus wants Teddy to have the best.

(Also in the original writing of this Remus disappeared again and the marauders heard from Teddy once Harry reunited with him in hogwarts that Remus has actually been missing for years and he’s been living with Hope because one day after the moon he just didn’t come back and sometimes Teddy finds himself staying up to watch the door on full moon nights just in case Remus would come walking through it but he never did because yay grief)

[miss-tc-nova]

With Reckless Choices - Leona Kingscholar x Reader Pt 18 Finale

We made it to the end! Thank you everyone for joining me for this 4 month roller coaster that took me 2 years to write. It's been amazing finally getting to share it with you all. Thank you for reading!

Premise: Ending with the choice that should've been made

Words: 1,988

Music Inspirations: If I Could Fly - One Direction

~~~The Right Choice~~~

               My chin rises just a bit as another flash threatens to blind me. Beneath the fairy lights, we stand in each other’s arms. Yet while my partner may seem irritated with the show, I’m all too happy to have played my part in front of the entire world.

               The camera flashes once again and his voice rumbles in my ear.

               “I can’t believe you actually had that lizard walk you down the aisle.”

               “Oh? You didn’t seem to notice when we were actually walking.” Honestly, that look of adoration and awe from Leona as I stepped onto the aisle will forever be burned into my memory. Only when the king’s blessing graced my forehead did the lion scowl, though not for long. “He’s been in a marvelous mood since we brought back his precious prefect and insisted on being part of the celebration. Besides, you said I could do whatever I wanted.”

               “Yeah, when I thought you were just inviting him as a guest.”

               I’m sure the photographer loves the genuine laughter. “Come now. We may have had our issues, but that’s water under the bridge.” Another click flashes as I peer up at him with foxy eyes. “Surely you’re not threatened?” An ear flickers. “Oh Leo.” I draw his gaze with a gentle touch. “My beautiful, clever kitty.” Fingers trail along his pristine, ivory shirt beneath a traditional shawl. “I love you.”

               When he doesn’t respond, I grip his jacket and turn, pulling the lion into a dip where he clings to me to keep from falling. As he scrambles to hold on, I proceed to kiss him deeply—hearing rapid fire clicks.

               The kiss breaks, our faces close.

               “Never doubt that.”

               Though he looks thoroughly offended, the most gorgeous tint of pink paints his cheeks. Even as I right his stance, the tip of his tail flickers.

               “That’s going on the wall,” I hum.

               “If that picture gets out, yer gonna regret it.”

               “Try me.”

               Low enough only for me is the responding growl, to which I chuckle.

               As expected of a wedding funded by not one, but two royal families, the ceremony was extravagant. Guests from across Twisted Wonderland came to witness an actual union of love. Of course, gossip spread like wildfire at the announcement of my engagement coming not long after the divorce was made public. Yet for all the digging and suggesting, all involved remained on the same page. Malleus and I were simply incompatible, the divorce was amicable, and we both gave our blessings in new relationships. Not a word of the affair slipped through, preferring to leave such dreadful details in the past and look to brighter futures.

               The reception following is leagues different from my first, for everyone involved. Smiles find every face, genuine laughter mingling with songs of love. There’s no shortage of food and drink, to which a certain hyena rejoices. He deserves a treat after all the work he put into our wedding.

               Right now though, it’s tie for the first dance. Though he bemoans his fate, my husband takes to the dancefloor by my hand, not too put out once he gets his hands on me. It’s not fancy or practiced—no, our first dance is just us swaying together as the rest of the world falls away around us.

               “I love how nicely you clean up,” I hum, admiring the ivory outfit.

               Leona’s nose brushes mine teasingly. “Like you’re one to talk.”

               “This whole wedding turned out beautiful and I can’t believe Ruggie is your new chamberlain. He probably thought the raise was great until he found out how much work it is to take care of you.”

               “First off, now he’s our chamberlain. Second, we went to school together. He knows exactly how much work it is it to take care of me. It’s you who’s addin’ to his work load.”

               “Me?”

               “Face it. Your chances of using a microwave correctly are about as good as mine.”

               Embarrassment warms my ears. “It’s not my fault Briar Valley is old fashioned.”

               “Sure sure. And you totally spent all your free time in the kitchen.”

               “Okay, fine. We’ll just make sure he’s properly compensated.”

               “Oh for sure. He may be a bottom feeder, but he’s the most useful person I know.”

               I laugh. “I’d say he deserves a good rest after pulling this off. I bet he’s looking forward to the honeymoon as much as I am.”

               “Nah, he’ll just find himself a side gig while we’re away, so I already gave him a task.”

               “That poor man.”

               “Hey, the guy is just as money hungry as he is food hungry. Might as well make him work for me.” A self-satisfied grin crawls across his face. “Besides, he gets the whole house to himself for like two weeks.”

               My brows furrow. “The palace?”

               “Nope.”

               I’m left agape for just a moment but can’t fight the creeping smile. “I can’t believe you.”

               “Just wait until you see the bed.”

               “Big enough for your extensive pillow collection?”

               The glow of his harlequin eyes sends goosebumps rippling across my skin. “Big enough for plenty of things.” Laughing at my stunned reaction, his intensity lightens. “Especially for naps with my new favorite body pillow.”

               I try to follow his light-hearted lead. “I told Malleus that would be your favorite wedding gift. I should’ve made him wrap it.”

               Suddenly, the lion is utterly conflicted between mortified and wanting to disintegrate possibly the greatest pillow he’s ever had.

               The first dance ends, opening the dancefloor to any and everyone. Of course, I spend couple dances with guests and do a bit of mingling. But not long into the party, Leona steps up behind me, hands on my waist. Immediately, he has my heart skipping as he presses a kiss to my neck.

               That baritone still melts my heart. “Let’s get outta here.”

               I suppose the show’s gone on long enough. “Did you have someplace in mind?”

               “You know where.”

               I can’t help but share in the mischief. Laced hand in hand, we slip through the conflagration of bodies. Only as we reach the end do I mistakenly bump into someone. His chartreuse eyes meet mine, immediately changing from enquiry to understanding. With that, our draconian accomplice steps behind us, concealing our escape. Backs to the crowds’, I draw a line of magic that whisks us far away from the celebration.

               Crashing waves replace rhythmic melodies, bringing with it a salty tint in the air. Man-made lighting disappears, the white sand lit by soft moonlight. And the aethereal glow of the water takes me back to a complicated yet beautiful memory.

               “I never thought I’d see this again.” My formal shoes are abandoned on the beach.

               “You got lucky.” His shawl joins our footwear.

               Excess layers stripped, we amble our way towards the water.

               “That first date really was life changing, wasn’t it.”

               “Honestly still surprised you didn’t just ghost me,” Leona hums. “Any smart mage would have, especially one that recognized what I was doing.”

               I shove his arm. “I recognize you’re trying to get me to say something silly. But I think we can both agree that, while hearts may mean well, they aren’t known for thinking things through.”

               “How very poetic of you…But you’re still dumb.”

               My shoulders drop. “Yes. I’m dumb because I fell for the biggest smartass in all of Twisted Wonderland. And now my sentence is to be married for him for the rest of my li—”

               A splash of cold water rains on my skin, eliciting a gasp of surprise. Mouth agape, I turn on Leona who grins like the massive child he is.

               One chastising finger waving, I start walking away. “No. No, I did not intend on getting drenched on my wedding day.”

               I should’ve known better than to turn my back on a lion. My lungs seize at the repeated assault of freezing rain. When there’s a pause, I whirl back with a glare but Leona’s already running down the beach.

               So yes, I do end up getting drenched on my wedding day, but I have an amazing time with my husband being childish and lovestruck. I can’t say that it’s like our first date, but it’s better.

               “It’ll be a miracle if we don’t get sick,” I sigh, sitting just outside the ocean’s reach. “I bet you’re terribly needy when you’re sick.”

               He plops beside me. “Hey, that’s what you promised: in sickness and in health.”

               “Yes yes, I know.” The eyeroll stops on his smug face. “You know, I wrote my own vows.”

               A brow quirks. “We had pre-planned vows to keep it simple.”

               The misfortune quirks my lips. “I know. I wrote them before you complained about having to write any.”

               Ears flatten as he retorts, “Why write vows when I plan on spending the rest of my life doing all those things anyway.”

               Gentle finger tips trace his chest. “Yes well, I guess now no one will hear the declaration I had for you since the day you proposed.”

               That perks those ears back up. “Oh?” Trying not to show his hand, Leona trails his lips along my neck. “And what sort of promises were you gonna make?”

               “It’s too late. We already said our vows.” I can’t help shrugging him off as I laugh.

               “C’mon. Wouldn’t want your thoughtful words to go to waste now, would you?”

               “Your tricks don’t work on me, Leo. Ask nicely.”

               That nose scrunch is adorable, though he clearly does not feel the same. His eyes wander, the wheels in his brain turning, looking for a way out. I happily wait out his conflict until, ears flat, I hear his huff.

               “Please?” It’s only somewhat convincing.

               “Please what?”

               His shoulders droop like I’m punishing him, yet there’s a genuine expression on his face. “Please…tell me…”

               Oh how I love the softer side of this man. I swing a leg across his lap to straddle him. This gives me the vantage of looking him right in the eye as I brush the hair from his face. I want a clear look at his face so I know he understands every word I’m about to say.

               “My clever kitty,” I say, teasingly scratching behind his ear. “Many look at us and think life came easily. We know all too well how wrong that sentiment is. But in my darkest time, you reached out to me. It may have started as two lost souls trying to fill the holes in their hearts, but it became acceptance of flaws and love beyond my wildest dreams. You showed me what it was like to matter to someone and to be true to myself. So to you, I make these vows.”

               His eyes gleam with awe, enraptured in the sincerity of the moment.

               “I vow to stand by you until my dying breath, even in the steepest odds. I vow to be your support, lifting you higher on your best days, and holding you close on your worst. I vow to love you with every fiber of my being until the end of time and beyond. And never will I deny it again—even should the world’s fate depend on it.” Carefully, I cup his face. “Because above all else, I choose you. Here and now and forever more.”

               For a moment, the lion seems stunned, like a lonely child being told for the first time that he’s important. Before I can ask, he pulls me in. One hand presses into my hair while his face hides in my shoulder. In his tension, I feel the relief washing over him. I’m sure nobody has ever spoken so honestly to him, let alone of love. He doesn’t have to lie or deceive, he doesn’t have to fight or outsmart, and he doesn’t have to suffer—because I mean everything I said. And he knows that.

               “I love you.”

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[enigmakiwi]

"Enhancements from other organisms for superior intelligence" yeah this is a straight up lie. CRISPR can do a lot of things but it cannot do magic.

What organisms? Which organisms' genes could be spliced in to make a human more intelligent? This straight up doesn't make sense. We aren't at a stage where we can just apply vague traits to something using CRISPR. This shit (genes and genetics with regard to the brain/intelligence/personality) is incredibly complicated and still not fully understood, and— side note— what other organism could improve human intelligence if we are the smartest species? And what specific genes are the "intelligence" genes, then, anyway? Even Elon isn't that stupid. I think.

The only conclusion I can come to here is that she means other humans. If she means they made a designer baby using the genes of several different humans, well... I don't know what I should think, honestly. A few years ago, I would've told you that this would also be a lie, but I don't know shit about shit anymore. The world is insane and Elon is insane and I'm at a point where I can believe it.

The fact is that we do not have the knowledge nor the ability required to make a sci-fi super intelligence baby— at least, not successfully, and not without absolutely horrifying risks. On the off chance this isn't a total lie, that kid is going to be a completely normal human person because they've exaggerated what they did to the kid (which, I imagine, was probably modifying more specific genes which are actually known to cause various illnesses). Or die of some mysterious illness because they're not exaggerating and everything in those genes is fucked, in which case, I dunno, is that... a crime? I'm pretty sure would count as human experimentation, so...

And, because I just realized I didn't mention it— yeah, CRISPR is not approved for human use right now, OP is 100% correct. I don't know how Elon possibly could've done all this without word getting out and causing a huge scandal. There's no way he could have done all this intelligence-enhancing cross-organism shit in absolute secrecy and without facing any backlash. SOMEONE would spill the beans, as is the nature of secrets in group operations (which this would've had to have been; even Ashley says Elon just "managed" it, not did it all himself). This is another reason I think that, at most, they modified risk factors for illnesses. And we've only got one account here— the mother, who could very well and very easily be lying about or exaggerating this IVF+ story.

But I don't know for sure. I'm not an expert and Elon is an evil motherfucker. I don't check the news much because everything is awful right now, so maybe I missed something. I honestly don't know if there's hard laws about this, so I don't know what would even happen if this all turned out to be partially true. IF. And it's a big if, because again, this borders into completely impossible.

TLDR I cannot take this seriously and I do not buy it as is, but the world (and Elon) is batshit enough that maybe Elon did use CRISPR on his baby in some way, probably to try to eliminate genetic illnesses and risk factors. But, to be clear, this is probably a complete lie.

Elon’s latest baby mama says she used genetic engineering (CRISPR is not ethically approved by the scientific community for use on humans) to create the perfect human with “enhancements from other organisms”

[desreads]

SUNSETZ, m.s

warnings; mentions of drugs, implied sex, suggestive, angst?? fluff?? idk yall im just a girl

was listening to sunsetz by cigarettes after sex and got inspired honestly just couldn't help myself. if this has been done before, feel free to tag the person, but this is all from my noggin

lowercase intended & not proofread so bear with me guys <3w.c; 2k

it was late, too late, but you didn't care. what you did care about? getting high with your best friend, the one person in the world who seemed to understand you, the night before graduation.

twelve years. you couldn't believe how fast the time went by, how in less than a week you'd be driving across the country to go to college. it seemed just like yesterday, you in preschool, two pigtails on your head with a big, toothless (mostly) smile. innocent, young. crazy how things change since then.

the playground where you and matt were currently sitting in was empty, quiet. almost still like a picture, a place frozen in time of youthfulness and fun. you'd think the silence would be eerie, but it was almost 2 a.m and the lack of noises save for the wind rustling through the trees and the crickets served a peaceful scene.

god, you needed this. you couldn't sleep that night as the weight of the future seemed to be the only thing on your mind. who wouldn't be terrified of it? the unknown possibilities, the what-ifs, the impending doom that was adulthood and getting your life together. you've never had your life together and with graduation being tomorrow, technically today, your brain just wouldn't shut off to sleep. you knew you needed to get high which wasn't a problem given the two joints hidden in your shoebox in your closet; thanks to your mother finding your last stash in your sock drawer and throwing away what you had.

what you needed even more was matt. when you drove to his place and threw rocks at his window since he wasn't answering his phone, you thought he'd turn you away so he could go back to sleep. but after begging the boy, your platonic soulmate, to come with you so you wouldn't be alone, he just couldn't say no with you standing in the garden below his window. he didn't even bother to get properly dressed, just threw on a hoodie and left his pajama pants on and hopped in your car.

the playground wasn't your usual spot where you'd go to get high, but it felt… almost right to be there. when you were driving by, you just couldn't resist the pull it had on you, the irony of two graduating teenagers spending their last night of high school in a park meant for children. it was perfect. it made it even better that you could smoke freely without the worry of getting in trouble.

matt wasn't smoking with you, he never did. he and his brothers prided themselves on being sober and not having the need to do that stuff to have fun. they never drank or got high, but they didn't judge others for doing it. matt never judged you. you never pressured him into joining you, either. it just felt nice having him around in these moments when you'd get pulled back to earth, your mind slightly hazzy and no longer spiraling.

no, you two were just sitting on the swingset, just talking. about? well, everything.

about graduation. college. reminiscing on the past. drama that was currently circulating around. talking to matt was always easy, simple. his sarcasm and bluntness of things making you laugh more than usual since you were under the influence.

he made a joke about some girl in your senior class stumbling on stage tomorrow since she was known for her clumsiness which made you cackle, throwing your head back as one hand held onto the stinger of your joint, the other gripping the chain of the swing to hold yourself upright.

matt smiled at the sight, small giggles leaving his mouth that went unnoticed by the volume of your laughter. “y’know, i always wonder if i’m actually funny or if you're jus' laughing because you're on cloud nine.”

you caught your breath, the occasional chuckle escaping you as you did, before you looked back at your best friend with a small shrug. “it's probably just the weed. i had to get a new batch than i usually get because sandra threw away what i had left and then fuckin’ dom didn't have what i wanted, meaning i’m left with, god, i don't even know the name of it, i wasn’t paying at—”

“yo, rambler, maybe take a breather between words, yeah?” matt cut you off with slightly widened eyes, mainly amused by the way the words were just flowing out of your mouth.

you simply just rolled your eyes and took the last hit you could before you burned your fingers, letting what was basically just ash fall from your fingers onto the sticks below your feet. you regretted not bringing a second joint, but there was always tomorrow after the ceremony. after inhaling and letting the smoke fill your lungs, you allowed the rest to exit your nose, speaking with a hint of amusement in your tone. “i’m gonna miss dom when i’m forced to leave.”

“you're going to colorado,” matt scoffed as he began to softly rock himself back and forth, his inner child not letting himself pass up on the opportunity of using the swing. “there are gonna be dealers there. hell, i wouldn't be shocked if there's one on your dorm floor. or every floor, for that matter. plus better weed, probably.”

“yeah, but it won't be the same,” you whined, a small pout on your face, as you kicked up your feet, joining him in his actions, the wind building as you used the swing, making your hair fall behind your shoulders.

“how?” he asked with a hint of skepticism, slowing down on the swing now, his eyes lingering on you.

you shrugged, not necessarily wanting to explain to him how it would be different because you wouldn't be getting your weed anymore from dom. who lived in somerville. your home. it would be different in denver, everything would be, and you didn't feel like ruining your buzz just yet. matt seemed to sense this in the way you avoided his eye contact, but he wasn't going to push you. he knew better than to poke the bear.

“i’m sure he’ll miss you, too, kid,” he sighed after a moment of comfortable silence between yous, now just sitting on his swing as he watched you go back and forth, your eyes closed as you enjoyed yourself. “but he'd have to get in line.”

he said it jokingly, making sure to add a chuckle after for good measure. but it was there clear as day, the unmistakable hint of vulnerability. it was something he'd been thinking about a lot ever since he found out you got accepted into colorado college. heck, you weren't even gone yet and he already missed you.

he missed you like crazy.

you didn't catch it, though, and instead just smiled with your eyes remaining close, one of those toothy smiles that usually made matt's heart flutter. “i think i’m gonna fuck him before i leave.”

his eyebrows furrowed almost immediately and he eyed you like you were growing three heads, not that you saw. he didn't like the idea of you and dom, a high school dropout who sold drugs to teenagers at the ripe age of twenty-three, having any type of intimacy outside of buying drugs. he didn't like it one bit.

“is that the weed talking?”

“i mean, why not, right? he's pretty nice to me and i haven't hooked up with anyone since christmas when we were all at christine's party, and i don't really want to leave before getting one last good-”

“yeah, ‘kay, i get that, but dom? you can seriously do better than that.”

the way he sounded so sure of your ability to attract men in that way, that he genuinely seemed to believe you could do better, made you giggle and you opened your eyes to look at him, slowing down your movement on the swing before coming to a stop. “really? ‘cause need i remind you, i fucked tyler holmes at that christmas party. y’know how desperate you have to be if tyler holmes is your last resort for getting fu-”

“is that really all you're lookin’ for? just a fuck?”

“pretty much, yeah.”

“okay…” matt stared at you intently before forcing his mouth to catch up with his brain, not being able to hold himself back anymore. “well... if options is what you lack... you've got an option right here.”

“right where?” you blinked at him cluelessly, your expression nonchalant as the weed rendered your thinking slightly weak. though, he knew if you were stone-cold sober, you'd go apeshit over what he said.

but he couldn't back out now, not when he finally had the courage to do what he's been only dreaming of the past year.

he sighed and rubbed his hands on his thighs, a futile attempt to ease his nerves as his voice wavered slightly. his ‘fight or flight’ didn't know the difference between suggesting to sleep with you and being held at gunpoint. “right here… me, doll. i'm the option.”

your eyes widened slightly as you finally comprehended what he was getting at. matt, the kid you've known since third grade, offering to hook up with you? you must've been completely stoned.

“matt, don't even play around like th-”

“who said i’m playing around?” silence followed after he cut you off, the only emotion you could really feel being shock. he saw it written all over your face and he took a second to turn his body towards you, one of his hands gripping the chain of the swing as if to ground him. “it wouldn't have to mean anything… if you don't want it to. but you're my best friend, i care about you a lot, kid, and you know i'd do anything for you. fuck, i came with you tonight, didn't i, despite the ceremony being in 6 hours and id rather risk our friendship over us sleeping together to get your fix than you resort to that loser just because he's nice to you, if anything, i’m nicer and way more respectful than him-”

“who’s rambling now?”

your interruption caused a small smile to break out on his face, the sight of you looking at him with affection easing the nervousness he was filling as well as making his cheeks flush. he didn't speak, afraid he'd ramble again about how it wouldn't be personal even though that would be a total lie, but he didn't have to because you were feeling in a good mood that night. after looking like you were contemplating your options, you finally spoke, your tone balancing between amused and resigned.

“wanna do it now?”

the question almost gave him whiplash, his balance on the swing faltering slightly as he looked at you like you were playing a trick on him. but all he saw was you, pushing yourself up from your swing and taking the step to stand in front of him, hands on your hips with an oddly neutral expression.

you weren't going to go apeshit on him?

“you kiddin’?”

“no, not kiddin’.”

“you actually wanna… do this? here?”

“why not? nobody's around.”

he didn't get the chance to question you one more time before your hands gripped the hems of your hoodie, easily lifting it up and taking it off. sure, he'd seen you naked a few times, those times being accidents when he'd walk in on you changing in his house or you not being aware that the bathroom door was never fully shut. but seeing you stand before him, your tits behind your lace bralette that held them up perfectly, your nipples already hard and poking through... it was enough to turn his semi into a full hard-on.

“c’mon, we can probably get a good angle on the slide.”

-----------

desspeaks! honestly yall i rlly like how this came out and im not sure if id make a pt.2 to this, but don't be shocked if i do. hoped you lovelies enjoyed it! >3

[traincat]

hello traincat!!!! just recently gone through my spideytorch rabbit hole again. only now it is worse. and i’m actually considering writing fics about those two losers…

i LOVE your villain!peter fic, and i have seen a few other premise where peter is the Spider. but now its got me thinking and now i have brainworms of villian!johnny. i think of johnny and he will always be that sincere idiot that always puts others needs before his own. maybe if i break him enough mentally….. hmm decisions decisions….

thoughts?

also ur the bestest ever and i spent valentines giggling and reading your fics… i hate those stupid losers(i am obsessed with them…)

Thank you for reading my fics! I hope you had a good Valentine's Day. 💖

So it's my opinion that you can push pretty much any character into villain territory, you just need to figure out the right buttons to push. Some are admittedly easier than others. With Peter, for The Spider and the Last Spark, I had a very definite breaking point in mind. Spoilers for my own fic but the Spider's universe is a canon divergent version of 616 where, during Civil War, the Kingpin's assassin succeeds and murders both Mary Jane and Aunt May before Peter reaches the motel room.

This wasn't a totally original idea or anything. What If? Back in Black goes in a similar direction, killing off MJ, although its Peter is ultimately less successful than mine. I decided to kill off Aunt May too to completely strip Peter of any positive influence, including his own universe's Johnny, who died as a result of the attack he suffers at the beginning of Civil War.

I also took a lot of inspiration from What If? Grim Hunt, where Peter ultimately doesn't back down and decides to kill Kraven. (Notably my inspiration for his costume -- the black suit sans the mask -- was from Grim Hunt, and also his regular collection of slutty, slutty bathrobes.) The regular Grim Hunt makes a prediction via Madame Web that if Peter did kill Kraven, it would set him on a path where he wouldn't be able to stop killing, which is something Peter himself muses on in Spider-Man: Friends and Enemies. So I had a lot of canon information to use as a foundation.

(What If? Grim Hunt) "You killed someone." "I did that for you too!" Haha. Love him. What a freak. The other big thing I was considering with Peter was his personality flaws and how I could magnify those. Peter's big thing is responsibility, which on the flipside means he often assumes responsibility for other people. The ugly flipside here is control. Peter loves to be in control of a situation, and why wouldn't he? He's the strongest, fastest, and usually the smartest person in any civilian room he walks into. That's a big power rush. So take someone who is angry and grieving, who had that control stripped away from along with any positive influence in his life all in one night -- that's a powder keg.

(ASM #542)

Regret was a big factor for my Spider, too. Regret that he couldn't protect MJ, Aunt May, Johnny. Regret over his dead child. Regret that he didn't provide a better life for MJ when she was alive. My goal was to work from a place of pain and transform it into this little kingdom of control. Peter's not powerful enough to take over, say, the world, but he could take over New York and hold it as his own sovereign territory, especially with how broken the community was during Civil War, and especially with a big show of power, which was why I had him kill the Hulk. (Whether or not Peter could kill the Hulk in canon is a debate I'm not interested in. What's important is that Peter does canonically state that he's figured out a method to kill the Hulk, and I absolutely believe that he believes he could do it.)

So how do we apply this method to Johnny? It's a little bit trickier, because I don't have a clear breaking point in canon where I'm like, okay, if we shifted X, Y, and Z, I could see this being a springboard into supervillainy. Johnny is, at heart, an extremely kind and moral character. He's also not self-motivated the way Peter is -- Johnny functions as part of a team, and when he explores things on his own they tend to be hobby related, like racing and pop stardom. He's not usually an independent actor.

On the other hand, we can use that to our advantage. "If you break him enough mentally" sure, that works, but how are we going to do that? My first thought again is to strip the support system. I think Ben in particular has to go -- we see how Johnny spirals when he and Ben aren't on good terms. (Take "has to go" however you want for your individual context. I don't think it strictly has to mean killing characters off. I had to separate Flash from Peter in The Spider and the Last Spark and I had him lead the rebel army.) Reed and Sue, I think there's wiggle room. Is either of them a villain? Johnny's easily influenced by his loved ones, especially when he's young. If you want to play into his naivete, I think there's the beginnings of a villain route there.

Alternatively, we can play into the destructive nature of Johnny's powers. I talked a little about Claremont's take on the origin story recently, where Johnny absorbs the heat from the shuttle crash and then immediately goes Nova. The only reason Sue and Reed survive is that Ben covers them. But traditionally, Ben isn't rocky until a few moments after the crash. What if his own transformation hadn't taken place yet? Ben still covers Reed and Sue, but it's not enough, and Johnny accidentally kills his family. Add in the more modern Fantastic Four origin approach where the Four are held, at least temporarily, by the military, and you've got an isolated, guilt stricken Johnny who is facing his worst fear: being alone.

(Fantastic Four #214)

(Fantastic Four: First Family)

That's easily enough to break him. I think you could write a villain!Johnny based solely on this. But again, Johnny's not a very independent actor. So some kind of outside influence is immensely helpful. Another supervillain? Someone with other motivations who sees a deeply lonely, emotionally scarred young man with enormous power, and recognizes someone easy to manipulate? Would Johnny even care if he was being manipulated at that point?

Which brings me to the big thing with Johnny for me. What does Johnny want most in the world? He wants to be loved. And while I think a solo Johnny villain story is interesting, part of me is always a little bit committed to the idea of villain couple Peter and Johnny. (Which is what the Spider was clearly trying to swing in The Spider and the Last Spark.) Johnny, lost, directionless, craving the affection that Peter has to give in spades, and Peter, with the capability to be protective and devoted, but who also becomes infatuated at the drop of a hat. Peter, obsessive. Johnny, yearning. A huge hole in both of their hearts that's never quite filled. So yeah, why not take over the criminal underground? It's not like they have anything else to do on a Saturday night.

[lizardsfromspace]

There's rumors about Doctor Who getting cancelled & they are just that, rumors. There's no truth to them...

Except also, they point out that Disney+ hasn't signed on for a third season. They agreed to produce twenty-six episodes, allegedly, so two seasons, two Christmas specials, and supposedly that order includes the Sea Devil spinoff. And like, the odds of Disney+ signing on for another series are close to nil. They didn't pump all that money into the show for middling ratings after all, and they can cleanly drop it after that (heck, the whole order's been filmed already). That factor does make the situation seems more dire than the usual rumors - and after all, the ratings are close to what they were under Chibnall, and Doctor Who would've been cancelled then if it weren't for RTD/Tennant returning - at least, Chibnall believed it was cancelled while he was writing "Power of the Doctor", hence why it's a secret series finale

(there are also people claiming the studio where it's shot being used for other productions is a sign the show is dead, but the studio is large enough to accommodate multiple shows at once afaik - and as I said, both the next series of Doctor Who & the spinoff have been filmed)

But if they drop out that doesn't mean Doctor Who is dead. The BBC could keep producing it...with a lower budget & without Ncuti Gatwa money. Or they could go with a new streaming platform as a co-producer, but they'd likely push for a fresh slate

At this point, I kind of assume they would more formally end New Who & actually do a soft reboot like they did with Nine. New cast, new writers, limited references to the past. Probably the only way to make people see it as a new series, and not a hastily rebranded fourteenth season.

It is just odd, though. I watched Doctor Who starting from Nine (my first episode was "Dalek") and 'til today, and that's effectively the same as someone having watched from Hartnell to Davison. That distance, the idea that there were people who watched the whole classic series start to finish, always seemed unbelievable to me. TV changed so much during that time: from black and white to color, heck, to a world where Doctor Who's serial format was an isolated curiosity. But I had the experience of watching from "An Unearthly Child" to "The Five Doctors" without even realizing it'd been that long.

I don't think Doctor Who is cancelled forever. I don't think Gatwa/RTD Who will get a third season, and maybe it will be cancelled for the moment, who knows, but

The thing about Ncuti Gatwa era Who's ratings being "bad" is that they aren't bad, it's just that they're not very different from Jodie's average ratings. And five-six million a episode is actually pretty decent in a country with a population as small as the UK's (unless it's seen as drastically bad to be #12 that week, idk how UK TV ratings are perceived). It's not that they've fallen drastically, they've just failed to grow.

Which, no matter how much they pushed that this was "series 1!" and a fresh new start (to the point of declaring it an entirely new series, Doctor Who [2023 -]), was going to happen. Because there isn't a large contingent of people out there just waiting to give Doctor Who a shot. There was in 2005, when a whole generation had never seen it, and many people had vague fond memories of it but hadn't thought of it in years, and when there were many countries where it had never been anything more than a niche curiosity or straight-up hadn't ever come out, but the un-Who-evangelized ranks are p. small in 2024. No one saw it as series 1 of a new reboot, everyone processed it as what it was, series 14 of a show that's been on for twenty years

(Also, holy shit, New Who is twenty years old this year. For reference Classic Who ran twenty-six years)

They wanted to attract old viewers back, and they did come back for the Tennant specials, but I think they were banking on casual viewers being just as excited for RTD's return and. Casual viewers don't know who the writer is or really care, though, so it didn't have the same cachet. They probably expected it to grow a bit instead of just not falling off but the whole "suddenly it's putting up 2005 numbers" scenario wasn't going to happen. Anyway it's that thing I said and not whatever internet shouty men are saying

I have no idea what Disney+ expected. For Doctor Who to be the new Star Wars? Unclear. Thanks for making Doctor Who ultra high budget for two seasons I guess

[kix-mm]

I had a g/t oc that was really similar to victor! Young kid that played with people like dolls, had no idea he was hurting them/killing them until someone explained it to him. Idk where im going with this ask but i thought the similarities were interesting :]

Interesting 👁👁

I wonder if it ever mentally scars him so bad to the point he becomes hyper aware of every single movement he makes, knowing that no matter what he says or does, he has scarred his tinies so bad for generations that they’ll never leave despite the gates to the mortal world being open. Because they all believe him to hunt those who leave down and give them a fate worse than death... Amber is the prime example. They see Amber as a warning, as an example of what is to come if you try to leave...

The worst part is that if he simply hadn’t been neglected out of fear and was actually taught what he should have known thousands of years ago, none of this would’ve happened. His mentor, or lack thereof, is responsible for 90% of this mess.

Sometimes Victor pretends to sleep because then, and only then, do the humans speak and let their children (who were kept hidden) out in the open. He wished that he could give a blessing for once, hold a child who didn't tremble like a leaf when found unexpectedly, maybe even see one of his follower's little newborn baby. They always did such a good job of hiding those kinds of ordeals, even pregnancies are hidden, and the woman who usually served him whine suddenly disappears for a few months...

[saiilorstars]

After It All

Fandom: Criminal Minds // Pairing: Spencer Reid x OFC

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  After a fight I have nothing to say except I need you, I want you, I miss you and I love you.

Aitana was dead silent in the conference room while the rest of the team went over the details of the recent abduction of Spencer Reid and Penelope Garcia. Truthfully, everyone's voices were mixing together in her ears. Everything was ringing and she couldn't concentrate. They knocked her down in the worst way possible.

"…the Believers have declared war on the BAU," Emily was saying, "So this has got to be working toward their end game, one that could make either Reid or Garcia their 300th victim, perhaps their last."

Aitana looked away from everyone. If she had that rogue agent in front of her…she would be capable of bad things.

"Garcia wasn't a part of this," JJ said, "She was just racing to the elevator. So it's Spence. It's been him all along. He's a protector. It fits the victimology."

Aitana didn't want to hear anymore. She left the room without saying a word and headed straight to her office.

It was there where JJ found her about half an hour later, pacing back and forth mumbling to herself quite frantically.

"Aitana? Aitana?" JJ couldn't seem to cut into whatever moment Aitana was stuck in. She finally decided to rush forwards and grabbed Aitana by the shoulders to force her to stop. "Hey, hey, hey! Aitana, come back!"

"It's my fault, it's my fault…" Aitana anxiously bit into her index nail, "JJ, it's my fault they took Spencer and Penelope. It's my fault."

"What are you talking about, Aitana?" JJ scrunched her nose. "It is not your fault."

"It is! I should have waited for them but noo…" Aitana smiled sourly, "I wanted to make a point to stay away from Spencer. Well, I got what I wanted."

JJ walked Aitana to one of the desk chairs and sat her down then took the next chair for herself. "I know you don't see it, but it is not your fault. None of us knew what was going to happen. We had no idea that Meadows was part of the cult. It wasn't your fault!"

Aitana shook her head fervently. "He would have gone with me and Penelope if it wasn't for our fight. God, we're always fighting and I hate it!"

"It's been a hard year for you two," JJ said with a hand over Aitana's for comfort, "It's…it's understandable."

"It didn't have to be like this," Aitana said, trying to calm her breathing down. It was a one way ticket to crying and she did not want to go there. "He didn't have to-to push me away like that and he did. I hated him for it. I loved him, I wanted to be there for him…"

JJ nodded to her words, giving Aitana the comfort to vent. God knows she needed to do it with someone she wouldn't end up shouting at. Truthfully, JJ (and the others) were just as confused as Aitana was. Things shouldn't have gone this far, and they did.

If there was anyone more stubborn than the world itself, it was Spencer Reid. Once something got into his head, it never faded. Shortly after he was imprisoned, he told Aitana he didn't want her to have anything to do with him. He didn't want her to visit him, talk to him, send him anything. As devastated as she had been, fury very quickly seeped through. How dare he make that decision for both of them? How dare he not take her opinion and feelings into consideration?

The rest of their friends thought that when Spencer was finally free, things would get better for the couple. Why wouldn't it?

It didn't. It actually, somehow, got worse. They did not get back together, not even close. They fought constantly. They could barely work together without it ending in some kind of argument. It was catastrophic, to say the least, and — in many's opinion — tragic. They had been really good together. They complimented each other and most of all, they made each other happy.

"This whole year has been the worst year of my life," Aitana's voice shook, "And I've had plenty of bad ones before coming to work for the BAU. I thought…I thought after everything, we'd figure it out but we…we couldn't."

"It's not too late," JJ said with an encouraging smile, "Every couple fights and, yeah, most couples don't go through what you and Spencer have but it doesn't mean it's over."

Aitana scoffed and laughed bitterly. "He thought it should have been over a long time ago."

"He was thinking about you and it sucked but he wanted to protect you," JJ shrugged. "Spence hasn't really had a lot of things to care for except for his mother. I don't think he handled it perfectly, but he did try. And call me crazy, but I think all those arguments just stem from the fact that you still have feelings for each other."

"The amount of things we've argued about would suggest we want to drown each other instead," Aitana swallowed hard.

"Aitana…" JJ gave her a playful hard look, "Is it really all it meant? There's absolutely nothing else?"

Aitana lowered her gaze to her lap. "Course," she mumbled. "I would take it all back if it meant I could fix things."

Another smile came to JJ's face then. "Well then, let's solve this case and get you and Spence in a room to talk. I'll bet after everything, he's missing you too."

"I don't know," Aitana gulped, "The last time we saw each other we argued again…and I…" It looked like she was struggling to keep herself together. Tears were building in her eyes. "He was making me so mad and I-I wanted to hurt him so I said…"

JJ saw the first tears begin to roll down from her eyes. "Hey, you don't need to—"

"I told him…" Aitana sniffled, "I wished I had never met him. That my life would have been so much better without his presence, without his touch. That is the last thing I said to the man I supposedly love. That." She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as more tears spilled through. "What kind of person in love says that? I'm awful. If he does get out of this, he definitely shouldn't look my way. I don't deserve him."

"No, no, no, that's not where this ends," JJ said sternly. "You were mad and you said the first thing that popped into your head. As far as stinging, that definitely worked. But you know what? Maybe that's what Spencer needed to hear to get his shit together. It's not just you, Aitana. You both have some things you need to work on but to do that, you need to sit down and talk. So c'mon, we have to go back out there and bring his ass back. I'll lock you two in thus office myself if I need to but mark my words, there will be no more arguments from you two except about, I don't know, where you're having dinner next."

Aitana managed a little chuckle through her tears. "I'd like that so much…"

"Then let's get to work," JJ declared, "We have a lot of things to do so wipe those years and get up."

Aitana nodded and cleared the tears from her face. She stood up and faced JJ. "Do you think he'll forgive me for what I said?"

JJ chuckled lightly. "Trust me, in these moments, I bet he's thinking of all the good things you guys had. Nothing can ruin that."

Aitana continued to nod, trying to convince herself that JJ was right. She had no other choice, really. She had to continue believing.

~0~

Running with the idea that Spencer was the last target for the cult, the team dug up as much as they could on each member, starting with Agent Meadows. It turned out she had hidden 299 murders belonging to the cult, making the special number '300'.

Things made another turn when Penelope appeared in the bullpen. She had escaped from the cult with Spencer's help. She had the location of the warehouse they were kept in and while the others went to scope it out, Aitana stayed behind to help Penelope out.

Penelope sat in Aitana's office trying to get herself together. Aitana was outside talking to the medic who had checked Penelope out. A few minutes later, she walked into her office.

"Medics cleared you," she announced, though she knew it would make no real difference to Penelope. She was very shaken and with good reason after everything she went through.

"They didn't hurt me," Penelope said, "I was just the bait and a hacker."

"What did they need you to hack?" Aitana asked curiously.

"I had to hack the AVI, the Automated Vehicle ID, and create clean histories for each of the trucks the cult had so they wouldn't have to stop on the road…"

"Oh boy," Aitana breathed out. "I have to tell the others quickly…" She phoned Emily to give her the news and inadvertently found out that the warehouse was cleared out.

"I'm sorry," Penelope apologized profusely. "I did a very bad, bad thing. I wanted to see Reid, so I had to…"

"You did what you had to," Aitana said, assuring Penelope nobody blamed her. She bent down in front of Penelope with the biggest smile she could muster in these times. "And we're going to figure it out…like we always do. I'm going to get you something too much on. My mother always said 'when you get scared, a good salted cracker or bread is the way to go'."

Penelope chuckled at that but was happy to partake in the tradition.

Aitana patted Penelope's hand and straightened up to leave.

"Spencer wanted me to tell you something," Penelope stopped Aitana by the door.

"What?" she looked at the blonde, confused.

"He was sorry…"

"Sorry?"

Penelope nodded. "I-I know it probably means nothing coming from me but…it has to mean something big from him, right?"

Aitana couldn't decide what exactly she felt knowing about this message. In truth two words meant pretty much nothing but if it was coming from Spencer, it did carry more meaning.

"Thank you, Penelope," she said quietly and walked out of the office. She wished she could see Spencer right now.

~0~

They ultimately managed to track the cult to a garden location in Kentucky. They flew as soon as they could and during the flight, they worked to pinpoint the exact location they would be heading to.

They gathered with SWAT around the garden. The cult had a few guards spread around while the rest were gathered in a ceremony. The head of it, Merva had brought Spencer to the middle with Meadows.

If anyone would have asked, Aitana would have fired the first shot…but apparently that would be wrong.

Merva bound Spencer with leather straps in preparation for the sacrifice while chanting some sermon crap. Meanwhile, the team and SWAT went around taking out the guards one by one. It wasn't until one of them spotted Rossi that they had to out themselves and fire first.

As soon as the first shot rang, Merva stopped the sacrifice to see what happened. Meadows had a few others follow her towards the sound and that's when everything happened at once.

Emily fired first, striking the guards right in front of the ceremony block. Those with guns from the cult fired back, prompting a fight between those sides. Aitana fired straight at Merva who'd been holding the knife in his hand, not once but twice.

Finally, those remaining from the cult backed down. While the arrests were happening, Aitana went straight to Spencer to untie him.

"The paramedics are just outside!" she exclaimed, ripping the leather straps off his wrists. "We'll get you out there and they'll—""

But Spencer cut her off with a bear hug as soon as she'd taken the last strap off him. He'd grabbed her so quickly that she gasped and froze for a moment. He buried his head in the crook of her neck and held her impossibly close to him. Little by little, the emotions got to Aitana and before she knew it, she wrapped her arms around him too. She closed her arms and relished the moment.

~ 0 ~

The BAU had many loose ends to wrap up before they could officially close the case. With Meadows' intervention in ViCap, it now fell on the BAU to look into all the cases she had ever mishandled. Emily told the team it was a big job that could be handled later, not tonight. They were exhausted and deserved to go home.

Aitana was not sure what she wanted to do that night except to get that opportunity with Spencer again. It seemed like he was on a similar page because just as she meant to leave her office in search of him, she crashed into him at the door.

"Can I come in?" he asked her before he lost his courage.

Luckily for him, she nodded and allowed him inside. "You should be heading home to rest," she said quietly and closed the door.

"I'll have plenty of time for that later," he said, turning to face her. "I needed to see you…talk to you…"

Aitana nodded immediately. "Me too!"

"I told Penelope to tell you—"

"She told me," Aitana said, sighing, "And I've been thinking and…I'm sorry too, Spence. I should have never said the things I told you last time we saw each other. I was really angry — it's no excuse, I know — and I said what I thought would hurt most. As bad as things are between us, I would never wish that. I'd take all the bad stuff just to keep our good memories. I'd never regret meeting you. I'm sorry."

"This is all my fault," Spencer said and reiterated it when Aitana tried to take the blame. "It all started when I was locked away and I should have fixed it when I got out."

Tears began building up in Aitana's eyes; she bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to keep them in. "Yeah, why'd you do that to me, Spence? I-I loved you…I still do…"

"Because as smart as I think I am, I'm the most brainless man out there…" Spencer reached forward to dry away some of her tears, "I'll never forgive myself for hurting you like that. I only wanted you to have a good life away from me. I didn't want your reputation to be tarnished because you and I were together."

"I don't care what anyone else has to say about us," Aitana said, "I never have."

"I know," Spencer nodded. "I shouldn't have done it, I know. And I should have spent this year trying to fix things too."

"Why didn't you?" Aitana meekly asked. "Why didn't you try? Because as soon as you got out, it felt like you were angry with me."

"I was angry at everything," Spencer clarified. "It doesn't make it better, I know, but it's the truth. I was angry and everything bothered me and then when it died down, I felt like the world would find a way to hit me again. I didn't want to take you with me."

"You were self-sabotaging yourself," Aitana sighed lightly. "If you'd just told me all of this—"

"I know, I'm sorry," Spencer lowered his head with shame and guilt, "I'm really sorry about everything. I'll never stop apologizing, I swear…"

Aitana touched his cheek and gently raised his head to meet his gaze. "Well, there has to be a moment where it ends or else we'll never be able to move on. I want to move on, Spence. I want to move onto happier things with you. So, yes, you need to stop apologizing at some point."

"You think we can move on from all this?" Spencer asked with genuine fear in his eyes.

Aitana didn't waste a second before nodding her head. "Every day for the past year, I've woken up hoping that we could fix things. I want to…do you?"

Like her, Spencer nodded his head fast. Her face softened as she stroked his cheek. She gingerly touched the cut on the side of his forehead, asking him if he was going to be okay.

Spencer was looking lovingly at her, not feeling any kind of pain in that moment. "I'll be fine now…"

Aitana blushed when she met his gaze. She pushed some of his hair out of the way, being careful with his injuries. "So tomorrow when I wake up…"

"I'll be waiting for you with some sweet coffee," Spencer said confidently, "just the way you like it."

"Mm, with condensed milk?"

Spencer chuckled. "And caramel too…" His nose scrunched at the thought of it, like he always did. He was not a lover of sweet things and even then, Aitana took it to the next level.

"That sounds perfect," Aitana hummed excitedly, "Careful not to break that promise or I may have to hunt you down."

"I won't, I swear on my life," Spencer said firmly. "Can I take you home?"

"Take me home, come in, stay over — whatever you want."

"That's tempting," Spencer leaned his forehead against hers, careful with the cut on his forehead, although with the way Aitana was looking up at him, he could take a bullet and not feel it right now.

She ultimately drew him in with an alluring smile and before he knew it, he was kissing her. After that, the choice about where he would be spending the night was very, very clear.

A/N:

I actually want to get to the later seasons in their fic because it is angsty af in the show xD.

As always, I have Fanfic/Wattpad accounts under "noblecrescent" and a tumblr account under "saiilorstars" if you'd like to follow :)

[jorenilee]

watching a playthrough of tgaa 2 and I think its very funny you open the game and immediately get flashbanged by lesbians, and then you finally reunite with the other protagonist and he's had sex with fucking sherlock holmes

[the-barefoot-hatter]

Ford is always 110% committed to whatever he puts his mind to and never looks back or hesitates over his choice... and can always justify it.

This both a very good thing and a very bad thing.

Summon the creature surrounded by 'dear god did not summon him' warning signs? Clearly Ford is about to have a new best friend! He knows better than some stupid cave drawing! Going to dedicate his life to building this portal now!

Oh, got to stop Bill? 'Kay, going to throw himself into 30+ years of triangle eradication, no prob!

Got to get into university and be a success? ONLY his dream school will do! Nevermind his 12 PHDs, generous grant money, and meeting his good friend/roommate/research partner Fiddleford McGucket, it wasn't his dream school so it's worthless

Oh, and Stan ruined his chance at his dream school? Stan is 110% Dead to Him, NO talking, Stan's only good for grunt work and only that as his literal last resort because Stan owes him. Ford stalled out the anti-Bill ritual during the actual apocalypse JUST to be a dick to his brother.

Dipper is just like him FR? Obviously going to make this child his apprentice and secret-keeper. Tell no one. Clearly the smartest choice!

Ford is so binary all the time. It really takes the end of the world for him to start easing up and start forgiving/apologizing to people in his life.

(Could easily also read as be Ford just flipping on his former grudges, he now 110% Supports Stan and the Stan'OWar Dream, 110% is sorry to Fiddleford for not believing him in the 80s, etc)

...Now, what I find interesting about this is that Bill in on-screen canon... he never lies.

He flatters and loopholes and implies things, but he doesn't lie. The closest to outright lying is Sock Opera where he uses vague wording to trick Dipper into being his meat puppet and smashes the laptop. (Bill didn't lie. Bill only promised Dipper a hint to Author, not the password to laptop. Smashing reveals it's McGucket's, which is another clue to finding the Author).

When Ford asks where the portal really leads and accuses Bill of lying to him, Bill is honest. Rude, but honest. Bill is always weirdly honest with Ford. Most villains would try to cover their ass here, but Bill doesn't even try to hide his skype-call with the firey-evil-looking minions in the scary fire. He even moves aside for Ford to get a better look at them!

And there's almost no tricky language with Ford either, just "you're the man who's going to change the world!" and "genius happens with a little help from a friend!" and "we'll teach your dimension how to really party!" - all objectively true statements. Flattering and chosen to manipulate him into doing what Bill wants, but not lies. Asking Ford to pwetty please flex his big, stwong brain and build an interdimensional bridge to his place isn't lying, it's just not mentioning Bill's place is hell.

And it seems like Ford just... didn't actually ask where it led. Until Fidds fell in the portal test. Which is pretty far into the project to not know where it goes exactly!

Ford turns on a dime at that- which Bill finds cute. Until he doesn't. Because we know from the Book of Bill, Bill folds fast and tries everything to get Ford back (from flattery to fear). And even during Weirdmaggeon, AFTER he got what he wanted but BEFORE he found out he still needed Ford to break them out, Bill was still trying to get Ford onboard. Bill really thought Ford should be onboard with the winning team, he knows how bad Ford wants a big win and fame. Infamous is even better than famous! Are they not friends anymore??? For reals???

Bill's main flaw is he knows how easy it is for Ford to flip. He just didn't think he'd ever really be on the bad side of a Ford flip and stay there. He's trying so hard to get that shift back and it's just not happening.

Bill is the only one left standing that Ford won't at least start considering in more than black and white terms.

The only person Ford has been that hardline dead-to-me, nothing-good-remains-about-this-relationship about is... Stanley ruining his life with a science project.

Ford is Big Mad because Bill is acting like it's all a game. If there is ONE THING Ford cannot deal with, it's people not taking him SERIOUSLY.

I think billford fans every once in a while should step back from the emotional turmoil of the "Sometimes...I miss him. and i hate myself for that..." (which is very very good and fun) and examine some very interesting elements of canon which I think are overlooked in favor of angst.

Namely, the fact that there is NO indication at any point that Ford ever looked back. As in, once he found out about the betrayal, he never once (in observable canon) considered it an option to return to Bill. He had no regrets when it came to the falling out. He had regrets about what led to it, but "bill you lied to me! where does that portal really lead?!" Were his first words after the fight, and "ill stop you! I'll shut it down!" were the second. Barely even addressing the betrayal.

From the first paragraph of TBOB post-betrayal, his entire focus is on stopping armageddon, while repeatedly telling Bill via writing that he plans on DESTROYING him. He is unresponsive to ANY attempts to "talk". He is ready to KILL INSTANTLY.

Which brings me to Bill. Because i think BILL was expecting none of this. Bill expected anger, but he saw it as an emotional obstacle. Because he DID NOT KNOW/UNDERSTAND STANFORD. The two of them are, in reality NOTHING ALIKE.

The "hes the only one who's ever understood me" was almost entirely projection on both sides. Ford was being lied to, the friend he knew never existed, and so why would he care about Bill? To him, Bill basically killed his friend and spit on his grave. He mourns that friend, but why would he go to his murderer for comfort?

Bill is stupider, because Bill knew he was lying. Bill knew that the version of Ford he was relating to and falling in love with DID NOT KNOW WHO HE WAS. He projected his own wants and desires on Ford, all while keeping them secret. because as long as he never gave Ford the chance to disprove their connection, who's to say his wants and desires weren't the same, in a way, deep down? He thought ford was a mad morally grey freak scientist (Which is a common fan interpretation and valid, but canon bill is not in the fandom, he is trying to fall in love, so his differing opinions are unfortunately invalid).

While Ford is a freak, drawn to the strange and often evil, often has trouble with empathy and street smarts due to his impulsivity, wanted a fictional deer to kill fictional deer because he felt excluded...He isn't morally grey. I need people to understand this. Ford is a HERO. Ford is always doing what he thinks is best for the world at large. He found out he'd made a mistake, and dedicated his life, without ANY question, to fixing that mistake.

Bill made a severe miscalculation. Because the betrayal was not a LYING issue. the issue wasnt pretending to be someone he wasn't. the betrayal was an APOCALYPSE issue. While Bill may have objectively known Ford would dislike the apocalypse, he didn't realize it would be an instant dealbreaker. But Ford got the ick. it was over for him the moment he learned the truth. it wasnt even a "betrayal" to him, for the most part. It was "There is a villain trying to end the world, and I need to stop him"

(TL;DR: for Ford, in canon, anything that was or could have ever been between he and Bill was dead and buried the second he knew the truth. He is the hero, and he must destroy the villain.)