#not escape arc but still something i wanted to write for a while

[incognit0slut]

was i stupid to love you?

in which a lingering glance at Rossi’s wedding threatens your engagement.

content: angst, 4.8k, takes place right after truth or dare (14x15), a lot of dialogue, mention of prison arc, emotional distress, relationship conflict, not proofread a/n: when was the last time you saw me write angst? exactly. this is inspired by malcolm & marie bc i really like the idea of having an argument while moving around the house (also disclaimer i have nothing against JJ i just like being dramatic)

The lock clicks open. The door swings with a creak. Your heels tap against the hardwood in a hollow rhythm that feels almost too loud. There’s a tightness in your chest, that prickling behind your eyes, and a familiar ache pressing up from the pit of your stomach, churning into a faint nausea that you try to ignore. You’re trying to hold it back.

Not here.

Not now.

Spencer doesn’t even look up. The keys slip from his hand with a soft clink as they hit the side table, and he turns away with a quiet sigh that reverberates deep in your bones.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. “Think we could order something?”

You trail after him, the sharp click of your heels echoing as you step onto the kitchen tile. “We just came back from a wedding.”

He’s rifling through the cupboard, his fingers brushing over the mismatched mugs and neatly stacked plates before he pulls down two glasses. “I barely ate anything at the reception.”

You watch him, biting back a response as memories flicker to mind. The slice of cake he’d poked at absentmindedly, washing it down with sips of water instead of real food.

It wasn’t hunger he seemed focused on tonight. No, it was his quiet glances across the room you keep on catching from the corner of your eye, and that conversation he’d had at the bar. The one where his posture softened, his gaze so intent you’d found yourself staring at the back of his head, trying not to read too much into it—and obviously failing.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

He shrugs, his back still to you as he fills the glasses with water. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding almost absent, like it’s something he hasn’t really thought about. “I didn’t get around to it, I guess.”

The muscles in your jaw ticks as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

Spencer turns, offering you a glass. “I was thinking of Chinese, or maybe we can check if that Thai place you like is still open.”

You take the glass from him, barely sparing it a glance before setting it back down on the counter. “Whatever you want is fine.”

A subtle crease appears between his brows. “You sure? You usually have some opinion when it comes to food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t want to eat anything?”

You suppress a sigh. "No. I'm tired."

The soft amber of his eyes dims slightly as he studies you. There's a flicker of uncertainty passing through them before he nods. “Alright,” he concedes. “We don’t have to order anything.”

A faint, humorless laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It tastes bitter, a little unfair, but it slips out before you can pull it back, “You don’t have to change your plans on my account, Spencer.”

“I’m not changing any plans,” he responds. “I’m just making sure you have something to eat in case you’re hungry.”

Your shoes dig uncomfortably into your feet. You shift your weight, starting to pace a few steps back and forth. "It's dinner, you don't have to check on me for every little thing. Do whatever you like."

He blinks, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are you saying? I was trying to be considerate."

"Right. Considerate.”

There’s an unmistakable bite in your tone.

“Yes, because we like doing these things together," he observes, watching your uneasy pacing. "Am I missing something here?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

"Honey."

The term of endearment lands softly, slipping from his lips like he believes it has the power to melt whatever tension has suddenly crept between you. But it only tightens the knot building in your stomach. It’s stirring the words you’re trying to hold back, tangling them somewhere between your chest and throat.

He calls your name this time, his eyes narrowing into sharp lines. “You’ve been awfully quiet on our way home, and now you’re… honestly, I don’t know why you're acting this way.” His voice dips with a tinge of exasperation. "What’s this really about?"

The words you’ve been biting back feel like a stack of stones in your throat, rising up, up, up, each one pressed tighter by the gnawing nausea in your stomach. You can feel them gathering, and before you know it, they tumble out messily.

“I’m just saying, don’t let me hold you back from getting what you want. I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything—or, god forbid," you add, letting your gaze drift away as if a little distance might soften the blow, “anyone.”

The soft, almost stifled inhale he takes is audible. You don’t even have to look up to see his expression shifting. You’ve known him long enough to recognize the way his shoulders tense, the way his breathing slows as he processes your words. You know his reaction by heart, yet right now, you wonder if saying this was a mistake, if this is the start of something neither of you can take back.

His fingers twitching at his side slip into your line of sight. He's angry.

Maybe this isn’t the time to start a fight.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Your heels click softly as you turn.

“Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything,” you mutter, already moving toward the bedroom that’s been yours, too, for the past year. Although it feels strange tonight, like a space that belongs to someone else. A life you’re not entirely sure you belong in.

“No." His voice is somewhere behind you. “I think you should explain to me what you mean by that.”

You don’t respond, choosing instead to sink onto the edge of the bed, hands fumbling as you try to undo the straps of your heels. You twist the stubborn leather with more force. His shadow fills the doorway.

“Honey.”

Not again.

You decide to ignore him.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

You tug harder at the strap. “No.”

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re clearly bothered by something.”

You shake your head, fingers still fumbling, the leather cutting against your ankle with each pull. “I’m just tired. Can we leave it at that?”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his gaze now, a crease forming between his brows as he studies you. He moves into the room. You barely have the chance to react before he lowers himself, bending one knee to the floor as he reaches toward the strap you’ve been fighting with. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, pulling your foot away. “I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But let me—”

“I can do it myself!”

Your heartbeat thuds loud in your ears, each pulse feeding the frustration that’s wound its way up from your chest. He rises slowly, not a word passing his lips, but the tension radiates off him like heat. He’s close enough that his warmth presses against your skin, although it’s not the kind you usually find comforting. It’s almost suffocating.

You turn your focus back to the stubborn strap, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggle to grip it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him slipping off his shoes, one after the other, the soft thuds barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. He pulls off his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the crumpled fabric before hanging it in the closet. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to let it go… until his gaze drifts back to you.

You can tell his patience is fraying, and you’re proven right when he asks again, “What did you mean by that? When you said you wouldn’t want to stop me from anyone… what was that supposed to mean?”

You finally manage to tug the strap loose. The heel drops to the floor with a muted thump. “It was nothing.”

“I don’t think you’d say something like that if it was nothing.”

Your focus shifts to the other shoe. “Just drop it, Spencer.”

"How am I supposed to drop it when you're implying... whatever it is you're implying?"

You keep your eyes down, wrestling with the strap in silence. He cuts through the quiet before it has a chance to grow.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing when it clearly means something. I need to know why you said that.”

You kick off the other heel and meet his gaze for the first time since you walked into the room. “You really want to know?”

He reaches for his bow tie, yanking it loose it with one hard pull. “Do I want to know why you’re giving me this attitude right now? Yes. Yes, I do.”

Oh. So this is going to be that kind of fight.

You hadn’t expected it to go here. Fights with Spencer are very rare, usually more a clash of misunderstandings that you both laugh about with limbs tangled between sheets by the time you’ve made peace. But seeing him standing there with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and his five o’clock shadow casting an even darker line along his jaw, it hits you differently.

This is real. And this time, you don’t know if brushing it off will fix anything.

“Fine, let’s talk about it then.” You rise from the bed, tension carrying you to your feet. “Emily’s speech tonight.”

His brow furrows, not quite a scowl, more a cautious crease as he processes your tone. “Emily’s speech? What about it?”

“What do you remember of it?”

There’s a slight pause, and you can tell he's clearly caught off guard by the question. “She mentioned how Rossi and Krystal are twin flames."

“Right. Two souls that are always meant to be together.”

His face is still marked by confusion, but there’s something else creeping in. A subtle tightening around his eyes tells you he’s starting to piece it together. “I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“You looked at JJ the second Emily made that speech,” you cut him off. “Spencer, you didn’t even spare a glance at your future wife because you were too busy making eyes at the woman who’s apparently been in love with you all these years.”

There. You said it. The words that have twisted around your insides all evening are finally out. And maybe they taste a little bitter, but at least they're not choking you anymore.

A second passes, then another, and by the time the fifth heartbeat ticks by, he’s standing there with his hand on his hip.

“That’s not what happened."

“Then what was it?” you demand. "I sat beside you the whole day, you didn't even try to hide it."

“That’s not—you’re twisting things.” His hand moves through his hair, fingers digging in as his curls tumble forward onto his forehead. “And you know what happened that night wasn’t real. It was a forced confession. She was under duress, we both were. JJ and I are just friends.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You look at all your friends like that?”

His hand drops to his side. "I don't know what else you want me to say. JJ said what she did because she thought we might die. She has a family, and a husband who she loves. We already went through this, I don't understand why this is suddenly an issue again."

“Maybe I wouldn’t be bringing this up if you didn’t look at her tonight like you were ready to break up that marriage yourself.”

A flash of shock and anger crosses his features.

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve heard in a while. “Do you really think I’d disregard everything I have with you because of a look? Because of a history that has never gone anywhere?”

“I don’t know what to think. It's not like it happened just once, I saw you looking at her the same way at the bar." You step forward, accidentally kicking your discarded heel as you move. "What were you two talking about, anyway?”

He lets out a tight breath. “She was checking in on me. She… we haven’t talked much since then.”

The corners of your mouth pull down. “Mhm. Another round of truth or dare?”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me." His hair flops forward as he shakes his head, falling messily over his brow. "If there were anything unresolved with JJ, I would’ve said something. But I didn’t, because there’s nothing there."

“And yet, she’s always been an important part of your life, hasn't she?"

He tilts his head. "What are trying to say now?"

Your tongue darts out, briefly brushing your lips. You're not sure you should say it, but it feels like a door has swung open—a door to words that have been waiting for their moment.

You take a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can.

“When you were in prison, you put her on your visiting list ahead of almost everyone else. Doesn’t that say something about where she stands with you?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“She’s part of the team,” he says, as if he’s trying to spell out something he’s already explained a dozen times. "There were strict rules, I already told you that only a handful of people were allowed to visit. It wasn’t like I could just put anyone on the list.”

“But you could’ve put me on there!”

The familiar burn of tears prickles at the edges of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. An explanation or protest is poised on his lips, but you’re already moving, closing the distance with a single, decisive step. A finger lands on his chest.

“I was your girlfriend, Spencer. Were you that determined to keep me out? Was the thought of seeing me really so unbearable? Do you even understand how hard it was to sit at home, knowing you were locked up, feeling completely helpless? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself day after day because I couldn’t do anything to help you?”

Your lips quiver. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I was out here, just… waiting. Wondering if you were okay, if they were treating you alright, if you even had someone to talk to. And meanwhile, she’s there, with you. Every single time, she’s the one who gets to be by your side.”

Your nail digs into the fabric of his shirt.

“So forgive me if I can’t just let that go. Because when it mattered, it felt like you didn’t want me to be there for you. And now… now I don’t even know if you need me the way you seem to need her.”

Your breathing turns shallow, each inhale catching in your chest. The tears you’ve been holding back are dangerously blurring your vision. You swallow the knot lodged in your throat.

“I need a minute.”

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. You slip back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you finally reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting there untouched. You take a sip, barely feeling the cool water on your lips, when you hear his footsteps behind you.

“You think I don’t want you in my life?” he demands. “You think I somehow need her more than I need you?”

You set the glass down. “What part of ‘I need a minute’ do you not understand?”

“You really expect me to wait quietly after you unloaded every doubt you’ve ever had about us?”

You life your chin up. “Yes, I do. I need space to think right now.”

“What more do you want to think about when you’ve already convinced yourself that I’m always going to fall short? Is it so hard to believe that you’re the one I want?”

“You want to know why it’s so damn hard to believe?” You turn towards him. “Because every time I try to let this go, there’s always something. A confession. That—that not-so-subtle look. And when those things happen, it reminds me that I’m not as close to you as she is. I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m fighting for space in your life.”

“Do you think I want you to feel like that? Do you think I’d go through everything we’ve been through if you didn’t matter to me?”

“Then explain to me why I wasn’t on that list!” you cry out. “Explain to me why, in one of the hardest times of your life, you couldn’t make space for me?”

“Because I was trying to protect you!”

A heavy, dreadful silence falls between you. He takes a step back, his eyelids fluttering shut briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that mirrors the gentleness now threading through his voice.

“I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, and maybe it never will, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Living through it was hard enough, but having you there, seeing me so helpless… It would have crushed me. I didn’t want that to be your memory of me.”

His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, a quick, almost anxious movement you’ve witnessed countless times.

“And when JJ came to see me,” he continues, “the way the inmates looked at her, the things they said after she left… it was disgusting. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with thought of you being subjected to that because of me.”

You lower your head with a sigh. “I don’t care if they looked. I don’t care what they would’ve thought.”

“But I care,” he fires back, taking a step forward. “Because you mean more to me than anyone. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and maybe I didn't handle it right, maybe I made the wrong call... but it was only because I—" His voice drops into an even more gentle note. "Because I love you."

Your heart stumbles, an uneven beat that feels almost bruised, pounding hard against your ribs.

"I-I love you so much. More than I know how to put into words." The ache in your chest sharpens as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. "I don't like fighting with you. I hate it, actually. I hate seeing you look at me like this."

You also hate the way he’s looking at you. There’s a depth to his annoyingly pretty eyes that makes it impossible to hold up your defenses without feeling them crumble. You let your eyes flutter closed.

“Why don’t we… call it a night?” He suggests. “Let’s lie down. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

The blackness behind your eyelids does little to quiet your mind. Nor does his voice. Or his touch. Instead of offering peace, his presence throws every glance, every moment of tension from tonight into sharper relief.

You draw in a breath, trying to find some comfort in his palms against your cheeks. Yet, even this can’t smooth away the doubt that’s settled in. With a resigned sigh, you release the breath you’ve been holding along with the words that have been pressing at the back of your throat.

“You haven’t explained it to me.”

The shadows in his gaze seem to deepen when you open your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been going in circles, but you haven’t explained to me what happened tonight,” you say quietly. “Why did you look at her, Spencer?”

His thumb absently strokes your cheek in a way that feels more hesitant than reassuring.

“Be honest with me,” you press. “Was there a part of you, even the tiniest part, that still wanted something with her? Some small part of you that… wondered what it might be like?”

The silence between you presses in from all sides, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled ticking of a clock on the wall. It’s the kind of quiet that sharpens even the smallest sounds, yet his lack of response feels like the loudest thing of all.

You pull back from him with an incredulous laugh.

“Unbelievable.” The word barely makes it past your lips, then louder as you start to move, pacing the length of the apartment. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait,” he says, trailing after you, “I didn’t even say anything.”

You stop short by the couch and whip around to face him.

“You didn’t need to! You—you hesitated," you stammer, searching his face for any flicker of denial, but it’s there, plain as day, that split-second of doubt you caught. “That was already an answer.”

He inches closer. A hand closes in on you. “Please—”

You flinch, pulling back, and every muscle in your body tightens. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now.”

His hand falls to his side. “Please… let me explain."

You watch his hand drop, fingers twitching like they’re not sure if they should retreat or reach out again, but he keeps them there, hovering in some invisible line you’ve drawn. He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

A bitter sort of smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "So now you want to explain?"

He takes that as permission, and his voice comes in low, almost cautious. "When I first started at the BAU, I had… maybe a crush. A passing thing, barely anything, really. But that was fourteen years ago.” His hand scrubs through his hair in a frustrated sweep. “Fourteen years."

Your brows pull into a frown. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because it was nothing,” he says, almost too quickly. “I was young, it didn’t matter. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up.”

“Oh, I get it now. All those old feelings came rushing back the night she confessed, didn’t they?”

He mirrors your frown, a visible line of tension etching itself between his brows as he protests, “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” you press. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a whole lot like you’re caught between us because some part of you is still hung up on what might’ve been with her."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you notice the muscles in his jaw clenching the moment his gaze falters, dipping away for just a heartbeat before he looks back at you.

“It’s not that I don’t know what I want,” he starts to explain. “I didn’t expect her to say those things, and, yes, it threw me off for a moment. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking back, or that I want her. I want you.”

You shake your head, feeling a tired sort of frustration settle over you, and walk over to the couch. The soft cushions give slightly beneath you as you sink down.

“If you really wanted me, this wouldn’t be happening. You wouldn’t have let her get into your head like that. And now, you expect to believe that none of it meant anything?”

He’s quick to follow, closing the distance in a few tense steps. “It’s not—” His hands flex open and close at his sides. “You’re acting like one single look tonight is enough to decide I’m not committed to you. Do you really think I’d let some confession I didn’t even ask for get in the way of what we have?”

“It’s not just about that single look. It’s the way she could say something and suddenly, you’re pulled back to something you swore you’d put behind you. How am I supposed to feel secure when she still has that power over you?”

“And what am I supposed to do, then? Apologize for things I don’t even feel anymore?”

You flinch at the sharpness in his voice. A low, frustrated noise rumbles in his chest when you don’t respond.

“You’re always going to question me no matter what I say, aren’t you?"

You glance over at him, catching the disheveled strands of hair falling over his forehead, and it pulls you back to that night he came home after that dreadful night. He’d walked in looking worn in a way you’d never seen before, his whole posture weighted down as if he was carrying more than just the fear of being held hostage.

You remember sitting with him on this same couch, fingers brushing his, and asking what was bothering him.

JJ said she loved me.

Your heart lurched, a quick, quiet ache that you tried to swallow down. Really?

Don’t worry. It’s not true.

But with that same haunted look in his eyes right now, you can’t help but wonder if it really was just a well-intentioned lie.

“One glance and you’re accusing me of things that are never going to happen,” he starts again. “Do you really think so little of me? After everything we’ve shared, you really think I’d betray you like that?”

In true honesty, you don’t believe he would ever cross that line. But the doubts still linger, fed by those small hesitations, the moments when his eyes seem somewhere else. It’s not that you think he’d betray you. It’s that a part of him might still be holding onto something he won’t let you see.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Now those words you might actually believe.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say quietly, eyes drifting to the ring on your finger. You twist it absently, remembering the night he proposed. How he’d stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing as he tried to make the moment perfect but ended up rambling in that endearing, nervous way of his. You’d laughed, reassured him that it was exactly right, that you didn’t need grand gestures. All you needed was him.

And yet, you don’t think he needs you as much you need him.

A hollow ache settles around your hand as you slip the ring off.

“What are you doing?”

You stare down at the gold band in your palm, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Panic. Desperation. There’s a sudden rush of melancholy in his voice, a heaviness that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I—I don’t know anything right now.”

His face crumples, and in a sudden, almost instinctive movement, he drops down to his knees.

“No, no, you do know me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Isn’t this—” he stops, then dips his head, trying to catch your gaze. “Isn’t that what couples do? They argue, they mess things up… but they work through it, right? Right?”

You look down, feeling the cool weight of the ring pressing into your skin.

“Spencer…” you begin. “I trust you. I do, and I’m sorry if I made it seem like I didn’t. But… I need to feel secure. I… I need to know that I don’t have to wonder or worry about where I stand. I never thought you’d be the one to make me doubt that.”

There’s a sharp ache in your chest.

“I didn’t think it could hurt this much. Not from you.”

Your pulse ring in your ear.

“I can’t—” The words catch in your throat, a stinging burn rising as you force them out. “I can’t be your wife when I’m constantly questioning if I have all of you. When I feel like… there’s always a part of you that isn’t mine.”

“I’m yours, honey. I’m always yours.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

There’s a slight falter in his voice. “Don’t—please don’t do this—”

“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rough, uneven rhythm of both your breaths filling the space between you. Then, like something inside him finally cracks open, he sinks down, pressing his forehead against your lap. The sudden weight of him forces a broken sob from your throat.

“Please,” he begs, fingers clutching at your sides. His chin presses deep into your thigh. “Tell me how to fix this. I can’t— I can’t lose you.”

“Spence…”

“I love you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling from him in a rush. “I love you.”

But what is love, really? Is it just a word people reach for when they’ve run out of things to say, a way to patch over bruised hearts and broken promises? Or should it feel like something more solid, something that doesn’t leave you questioning or aching? You can’t even tell anymore.

You wonder, too, if maybe you’ve been wrong all along. If this feeling in your chest isn’t love but something dressed up as it, something that fills the gaps while slowly hollowing you out. Because here you are, clinging to a love that somehow makes you feel like you’re both needed and unseen. Everything and nothing all at once.

You feel like a fool.

“I want to go to bed.”

His head lifts from your lap, a flash of surprise darting across his face, as though he hadn’t expected you to say anything at all, let alone that. “Yeah, okay, let’s go to bed. We’ll… we’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

The words hit him visibly. His mouth opens, an argument forming there, but he catches himself, letting the silence stretch before he nods slowly.

“Then… I’ll stay out here. On the couch,” he offers softly. “Just… in case you need anything.”

A pang cuts through you at the thought of him stretched out on the couch, his legs too long, his shoulders folded in to fit the cramped space. But the idea of sharing a bed right now feels impossible.

You reach down, holding out the ring towards him.

“No,” he says firmly, gently pushing your hand away. “Don’t do that. This… it doesn’t mean we’re giving up. It just means we need time. That’s all.”

You’re not sure if your mind will change in the morning. The ring presses into your skin, but finally, you close your hand around it, nodding faintly before you peel away from him.

The tears start the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you. It spills over in a jagged, helpless cry that sounds nothing like you imagined heartbreak might sound. It’s messy, a kind of aching grief that feels too big for your chest, clawing its way out with no grace at all. You can practically hear how pathetic you sound, and yet you can’t seem to stop.

Even when the hem of your dress trails across the floor. Even when you finally collapse onto his side of the bed. There’s no stopping you. With the ring sitting cold in your hand, your tears keep coming, soaking into the pillow as you cling to the last trace of him woven into the sheets.

[im-poe-dameron]

Okay last one I swear "You want me. I was inside you. I tasted you. That is a truth you will never escape." with… do I even need to say his name?? RAT BOI QIMIR

DARKNESS WITHIN

a/n: the way i was determined to write this. my laptop committed itself to death and i hand wrote this until i got a new battery. but anything to appease the current brain rot that has overtaken me. i love that we have a feral sith again. rip maul and revan you would have been obsessed with our boi.

summary: balance - the power of light and dark and everything that lingered between. a truth you held onto tightly for fear of losing yourself. but when false hope begins to fade and power tastes sweeter on your tongue than truth, you're left with what remains.

word count: 3.5k+

pairing: qimir x f!reader; the stranger x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, angst, lightsaber battle written messily, corruption, corruption kink, cumplay, choking, dubcon (possibly but just in case), the arc of a fallen jedi.

Petrichor lingered in the air as you stepped off metal and down into the soft soil below. The holomap still glowed inside your small ship. Illuminating the darkened space with a familiar blue you’d caught yourself staring at while the cold temperatures from hyperspace sunk into your skin. The name listed beneath caused your heart to leap into your mouth—the bitterness of him stuck to your tongue.

Eriadu.

An unknown jungle planet along the outer rim. The last place you expected to visit.

The cover of darkness and clouds blocked even the moon’s soft gleam. Your hand twitched, fingers stretching inadvertently to your lightsaber attached to your hip. From where you could see, the soft silver practically held its own light. As if to tell you this was not a path you walked alone—you would not carry the heaviness of your heart in solitude.

If you focused long enough, you could practically feel the leather grip along your fingertips. The urge to flick the switch and bring forth the comforting teal you’d come to rely on, nearly overtook you. But darkness was your ally on a hunt this straining.

For weeks you’d traveled between planets, digging for any information. A piece of a map that would eventually lead you here.

Though the one you sought out remained unknown, similar to the far reaches of the galaxy, you somehow managed to pick up a trace of him. Of the Force signature that nearly burned its way through your own. Where you expected a shimmer of light, a void of nothing welcomed you. Begged you for a sliver of company: in the hopes that you wouldn’t be able to resist.

The feeling sunk down into your nerves, echoing in your chest even now. A song you wouldn’t soon forget—yet craved to hear more of.

Darkness remained a Jedi’s sole enemy. Even while the tantalizing remnants of something so forbidden threatened to unravel you. The threads you kept a tight hold of were now frayed. And the more time passed, the more you felt his pull. The way his fingers had gripped you tight—leaving invisible marks you’d trace later in your mind. Shards of that cataclysmic emotion which tumbled through you like a tidal wave.

Jedi weren’t meant for this. For silent hopes kept in secret—the yearning for more clawing at your insides. Attachment held many names and you’d seen its power. Yet this…was raw uninhibited need. A hunger for his flesh, his mouth, his taste, for words that spilled so carelessly. But held enough freedom for you to grasp.

You weren’t stupid. You could see the breadth of his power that lingered under the surface. The signature of something foreign, something ancient.

That alone should have sent fear curling around your spine, stiffening your movements. You were taught as a padawan that Jedi fear nothing. They were the symbol of peace; a beacon of hope for the galaxy to look towards.

No matter how much you tried to fight it, that didn’t rid you of the way your body practically flinched at each sound. Your throat, tight and unforgiving the longer you trekked into the forest.

You knew the terror housed in your body didn’t stem from the thought of facing him. The realization bled through your heart the longer you were out there—you were going against the code you promised to uphold the day you were knighted. A vow that would one day cost you your life. But thus was the price to pay for knowledge, for training, for a purpose. Betrayal from another Jedi was a blow to everything your faith centered around. And what you thought was merely a faint blistering second of desire, fanned the flames of something worse.

A searing ache that refused to be ignored.

Your boots sunk into the ground with every step. Clear footprints now marked into the soil for anyone to follow. Forgoing your robes on the ship, you did what you could to look like a passerby. Someone here for peace and a stolen moment of tranquility. Hopefully they wouldn’t spot the heavy breaths you took, or the way your body was wracked with a type of suffering you weren’t used to: guilt. 

Trees engulfed your line of vision, blocking what you hoped was a path. Instead you were left with a vacant hole in the Force.

What once was loud—the embodiment of chaos—suddenly fell silent.

As if it never existed at all.

“You’re still here,” you murmured, eyes falling shut. The pulse of your own heart filled your senses. A reverberation that grounded you to the planet below. “I can feel you.”

Sucking in a lungful of air, you allowed everything else to melt away. The trees, the earth, the glow of the moon. Until you were left with the steady thump, thump, thump, that rang in your chest. The inky black mess of darkness shrouded your vision; hindering what you could reach. Forgoing a river blocking your only way forward.

You did what you could to push through it. Past the barriers of good and evil; beyond life itself. Until you reached the middle, the balance of everything that lingered between.

Your own soft blue green signature wrapped around your body, acting as a shield to what lay beyond. Pressing further, you felt the icy cold bitterness of him. It spread down your spine, wrapping around bone and marrow. A threat layered as a promise.

The obsidian emptiness was tinged with a soft gleam of crimson. Blood. Spilled by the very hands you craved to hold you.

The vibration of power nearly rattled you from the inside out. The amount of his capabilities that once beckoned you forward, now creeped closer. Mirth and malevolence seeped into the air, invading your senses. Until the pungent taste of copper spread across your tongue. Burning you within moments.

The hair stood up on the back of your neck, chills overtaking you with a wolfish eagerness. And you gasped. Calling your saber swiftly to your palm, you spun—the teal igniting like a flame, illuminating the area. Your eyes adjusted to the sudden burst of light, but in the darkness—melted into the shadows—you caught a glimpse of him. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you swung it forward, until the all too familiar sinister hum of a second lightsaber filled the area.

Red clashed with teal—sparks flying into the air—and you were met with the eyes of your mark.

The man who split you open down the center.

He stole the lid from Pandora’s box and watched in glee as every emotion you kept locked away, spilled free.

“What took you so long?” His lips curved into a smirk. Satisfaction gleamed from his eyes—a red reflection cast itself along his brown irises.

“You knew I’d come.”

“I hoped.”

“Hope…” You scoffed, attempting to steady the beat of your heart. “A dangerous thing for someone like you.”

With the tilt of his head you felt the ground level beneath you. “One could say the same for your kind.”

Heat from your blades clashing bled into the air. Yet neither of you backed away. This was no longer a fight of enemies, but rather you claiming back what he so callously stole. The sanity you once prided yourself on. Death would be an honor if it were to occur in battle. A worthy end to a Jedi as prideful as you, but the doubt he placed began to rise to the surface.

The answers to your myriad of questions—desires you sealed away—were gifted to you by him. As if he’d been waiting with baited breath for you to simply…ask him.

His smile deepened. “I can’t heal what’s been broken.”

You pressed your saber down, victory filling your chest at the sight of him sliding back. He’d been expecting a fight. Not your rage.

“Stay out of my head,” you spit.

“But it’s fun.” He huffed, standing to his full height, the strength of his body shoving you back. “Watching you grapple with the meaning of good and bad.”

“Shut up.” You swung at him again. Only for the attempt to be met with a slice of his blade. It nearly toppled you to the ground.

“It’s a lie. Everything the Jedi told you.” He advanced, his steps steady—measured. “There is no such thing as light or dark. It is just power.”

“You’re trying to get in my head. To tear me apart.” The clash of your blades pierced the air with a crack as you rushed at him.

“No,” he whispered, allowing his Force signature to brush against yours. You fell away, fear lacing your heart. “I was already in your head.” He swiped at you, the red crackle of his lightsaber singed your face as you ducked. “You let me in. You let me see every doubt, every fear, every desire. Willingly.”

“Shut up!” you cried, anger forcing its way forward. Hatred for everything you felt blinded you as you lashed at him with vehemence.

Loathing at the lust you gave into, the fear you let consume you. He worked his way into your heart and there was nothing you could do to combat it. You wanted to strip him from your body, tear away the flesh he touched. Yet the memory of how you begged, how you fell to your knees for him ripped through your head—punching the breath from your lungs.

Blow after blow, you watched as he fought you with ease. His slight shifts were enough to keep you off balance. Right where he wanted. Sweat prickled at your throat, pain spreading down your arms. He was purposefully wearing you down. Until your body gave way to exhaustion. Yet that’s not what fueled the rage you did your best to tamp down.

He was enjoying this. The way you struggled.

The final frail thread in your mind snapped and for the first time, you allowed your anger to bleed through. You let it fuel the adrenaline that filled your veins, pushing your body to keep fighting. With a hoarse shout, you shoved what Force you could his way and watched him slide back along the ground. Falling to one knee with a grunt.

Air burned your lungs as you gasped in time with the beat of your heart. Your arms shook with an unforgivable ache.

But you lifted your lightsaber. Teal casting a soft glow on your sweat slicked face—the echo of wrath glinting in your darkened eyes.

“You are the last person I’d let corrupt me.” You weren’t taught to despise someone this viciously. The Jedi spoke against it, but something hot burned in your chest. A promise that you would return to Coruscant with the handle of his lightsaber. His defeat would be your penance for the pain you caused.

“Why do you lie to yourself?”

“You’re wrong—”

He laughed, his foot slamming into your hip hard enough for you to hear a pop—pain rushing down your thigh. “I’m wrong? Tell me Jedi. What do you think they will do to you when you return corrupted? What will they do…when they find out how much you wanted me?”

Your scream pierced the air, burning your lungs. Ignoring the pain, you leapt to your feet, swung your blade in parries he quickly blocked, at a speed you’d never before witnessed. He fought against you with ease, but your refusal to back down is what threw him off. You wouldn’t let him win, refusing to back away from something like this. If he wanted to finish what started weeks ago, he’d have to impale you with his blade.

To your wonder, he seemed to avoid doing exactly that. Even as you fumbled, weariness settling deep in your bones.

With a twist of your wrist, his blade flew from his hand and landed mere feet away in the dirt. You half expected him to call it back, to end you where you stood, but he fell to his knees when your boot slammed into his leg. The teal of your saber now pressed close to his sweat glistened skin.

His head tilted up, eyes darker than you remembered, yet he never lost the mirthful smile that graced his lips.

“I didn’t want you,” you lied, in the hopes that he wouldn’t prod out the truth.

One final swing would silence him forever. You could release the Jedi from his threat, return home the same person you were before coming across him. And yet…you hesitated. Your eyes met his, the burn of tears welling up until you could barely see straight. His smile deepened, victory painted across his face, as you both came to the realization that would damn you right along with him. He could see it in your stance, feel how your Force signature begged to sink beside his, to feel the strength he once showed you—the tenderness that you knew existed beneath the surface.

Killing him ceased to be an option the second he opened your eyes to the truth.

“You do,” he said, his voice soft and raspy.

“No,” you whimpered, blinking back the tears.

He laughed, his hand calling his saber in the blink of an eye. Red flashed in the air, before your lightsaber was knocked out of your hands, now on the forest floor.

Instead of striking you down, he dragged you forward, your body forced to submit as his hand gripped your chin, angling you to face him. Your mind screamed at you to fight him, to resist the temptation, but his grip merely tightened. His eyes falling to your lips, to the way your jacket fell open at your chest, before finding your gaze again.

“You want me,” he whispered.

Where you expected to struggle against him—to flinch from his touch—you found that you craved more. You wanted him to bend you to his will, to show you the path to the dark side that remained like an echo in the back of your mind. A promise of more, wrapped in the threat of everything.

A gasp tore through your chest when he dropped his blade, his other arm hauling you against him as he walked forward. Your back scraped against a tree. Blood sprouting to the surface on the back of your neck. And if you had the ability to…you’d beg for more.

He grinned, seeing the flicker of uncertainty in the Force, the brightness of your familiar teal now a shade darker. His thumb pressed down, forcing your lips to part. To let him in.

Obedience was never difficult for you; having gone your entire life following orders left and right. But this…this knowledge that to follow his rule, to submit to his words, left you breathless. You were nearly angry at the person you let yourself become. Perhaps the Jedi were lying. You’d never know unless you asked, but to do so was to put a sentence on your head. To put questions in theirs. To push for more would reveal what you’d already done—what you couldn’t take back.

He watched the turmoil stream through you with interest. His eyes grasping what he could as you struggled with the truth he already gave you. Desire, want, hunger, it all stemmed from a place of power.

What mattered wasn’t that you needed it. You wanted it.

“I—” Your eyes fell to his lips, greed screaming through the Force as it all clicked into place.

With a snarl, he turned you, his hand wrapping around your throat as the other delved between your thighs, beneath layers of fabric you longed to get off. “I was inside of you.”

Breathing became secondary when his touch burned everything out of you, leaving a path of fire behind. Where he once caressed you with tenderness before, now turned rough. Shame should have ripped you from this intoxicating high, but the smile pressed to your ear when his fingers met your pool of slick, left you lost in the destitute darkness that consumed you.

“I tasted you,” he murmured, the rough pads of his fingers circling your clit—your mouth parting with a broken moan.

Dignity meant nothing to you when pleasure burned at the edges of your vision. Effectively blocking anything that might have come before.

“That is a truth you will never escape.”

Gripping his arm, you focused on the heavy breaths he exhaled, the shift of his body as he held you up where you couldn’t anymore. And beyond that, in the expanse of his darkness, you allowed light to pour through. To blanket him in what was once familiar, what remained buried in the depths of his mind. You gave him a piece of his past as he drowned you in your future.

“The Jedi will reject you,” he gasped, two fingers pressing into you, the memory of before sparking to life in your mind. “And when they do. You will find me again.”

“T-They’ll brand me a traitor—” If you were to return, you could never be a Jedi again. Never go back to the person you were before him.

Pleasure blinded you with every thrust of his fingers, the stillness of the forest now echoed with the mix of your breaths. You sunk into him, nails digging crescent moons into his skin, and he tightened his hold on your throat. He liked you this way. Pliant beneath his touch, eager and desperate for whatever he could possibly offer you. Being your prey was a mere fantasy, an act he allowed you to divulge in for as long as you needed.

Until the time was right.

His lips slid against yours, the kiss wet and heady. All the things you longed for, the past that you could not escape from. He kissed you without mercy. And you met him with an urgent acquiescence. The memory of his tongue against your clit pulsed in your mind, brighter than the day it happened as he stole the breath from your lungs. Saliva dripped down your chin, connecting you to him.

“Don’t you see?” he breathed, fingers curling forward—searching for something. The sharp inhale of satisfaction nearly tore you apart when your torso crumpled forward, a whimpered moan ripping from your throat. “You became a traitor the day you followed me into that temple.”

“I—”

The heel of his palm roughly pressed to your clit; your hips—acting on their own accord—sought his touch, grinding down with a pleaded out cry. You needed the bliss he once gave you. The sensation that haunted your every waking moment; that threatened to break you down and ruin all that you built for yourself. The feeling you were prepared to give up everything for.

“I can give this to you, all the time.”

“Please,” you sighed.

“Whatever you crave, will be yours.” He felt your walls tighten around his fingers, the hitch in your chest burned a hole through his. And like before when you cupped his face with reverence glowing in your eyes, he ignored it. Shoved it down into the pit with the remainder of his memories and feelings.

Your teeth dug into your lip nearly drawing blood when he sped up. The plunge of his fingers wet and loud in the air. To have you like this. Out in the open for anyone to discover, nearly drove him mad. He wanted to see your face, watch you shatter like before, witness the erosion of the Jedi spirit within you.

He wanted to bear witness to the corruption he caused.

“Say you’ll join me.”

Warning bells rang in the back of your mind, teal bleeding into your vision—the final hope of light that tried to pull you away from him. To remind you of why you were there.

Until darkness swallowed it whole, submerging it beneath the waves of a sea you’d never swim out of.

Grasping for the release you knew wasn’t far away, you bucked against his hand, mouth falling open as a cry pierced the air. With a grunt, he pushed his hips against your back, his teeth clamping down on your shoulder as you came with the taste of him on your lips. White flashed behind your eyes, hot and all consuming, your Force signature slamming into him with enough strength to send him stumbling. All with you still in his arms.

He collapsed to the ground, arm wrapped like a vice around your waist and fingers swirling around your pulsing clit.

“Yes,” you gasped, thigh quaking and face contorted in pleasure. “I will.”

Soft green began to morph behind your closed eyes. Dimming and bleeding to the edge of your senses, something brighter taking you over with a hunger you’d never experienced before. A raw ache that thumped in tune with your own heart. He turned your head, his lips finding yours, as your crimson signature called to his, bending and curving where his led.

He smiled, thumb running along the edge of your jaw. “Welcome my love.”

Your eyes fluttered open, lips pulling into a smile, as yellow slowly seeped into your iris. “Thank you.”

[tealvenetianmask]

I want to talk about a kind of troubling reaction I've been seeing to both Apology Tour and Ghostfuckers among parts of the fandom. The person is usually a reaction youtuber but sometimes someone writing on tumblr or twitter. They say something along the lines of "oh, I'm glad Blitz is being forced to confront his crimes/traumas/pain. This is the only way he will finally heal."

That's not how healing works.

I know that reaction youtubers don't always have the most developed takes because they're . . . you know . . . reacting in the moment. But I think it's still worth talking about.

I'm going set aside the people who seem to believe that Blitz needs to be punished for his crimes, and address those who genuinely think that getting a tidal wave of his own trauma in his face is what he needs to heal.

There's an attitude in contemporary culture that traumas are something people need to confront. As in, put on a brave face and dive in like a big boy. I blame capitalism, rugged individualism, and all the pieces of media that tie up a character's arc neatly by having them confront their darkest fears and insecurities. It can put a nice bow on things, but it isn't really how healing from trauma works.

Apology Tour:

Blitz gets confronted by a shit ton of people who hate him, at least some of whom are his exes, who he feels he's personally damaged. The decor and party games are all about killing and torturing him. Verosika confronts him about how much he hurt her. Oh, and then he sees the love of his life, who he's just recently pushed away, making out with another guy- proof, in his eyes, that Stolas is happier without him. And this all reflects the underlying fears he already has about who he is as a person (shown to us by Truth Seekers).

So what was the takeaway? Blitz came to the conclusion that he doesn't always want to be like this (good, but like . . . worth this much pain?). He flops on his steering wheel (relatable). He stops trying to reach out to Stolas (uh oh . . . ). He spends A MONTH spiraling in his own misery and making a mess of all aspects of his life until he's dragged out of it by a caring friend.

The party doesn't empower Blitz to change. It knocks him down and fucking traumatizes him (seriously, images of Stolas from the party show up later in his trauma reel) too much for him to be able to do actually work toward said change. I suspect that if left to his own devices, he would have kept spiraling for quite a while longer. It's one thing to want to change, and another to try to do so alone in the aftermath of a pile-on.

Ghostfuckers

After Blitz drags himself out of his hole of cheesy ice cream and despair to "play sex ghosts" (escapism, again, still knocked down by Apology Tour), infester demon Rolando picks him out as an easy target and assaults him, yes, assaults, with horrific images of his worst traumas and fears.

Not to state the obvious, but Rolando isn't interested in helping Blitz heal. He's trying to kill the guy. He wants to engulf Blitz in his trauma to the extent where he's consumed by it and loses the will to fight back. And as some excellent posts by others have pointed out already, he very likely would have succumbed if not for Millie's support.

Millie helps Blitz get through the onslaught by telling him about what makes him great and how he's improved her life and showing him love and care. And by literally beating the fucking infester out of him. Because there's someone in him who's hurting him, who's re-traumatizing him against his will. She takes him away from the reel of horrible memories.

So . . . do I think that confronting traumas can play a role in healing? Sure. But only if it's consensually (which neither of these situations are) and when the person trying to heal is ready. And most likely in small doses. No one's going and successfully confronting every horrible thing that's ever happened to them in one go.

And in my humble opinion, it's not going to work (for anyone, but especially not for Blitz) alone and without a healthy dose of kindness and compassion (both external and internal).

Blitz has a long road ahead of him toward healing, and it's going to be hard work on his part but also require love and support from the people in his life.

In a wonderful moment near the end of Ghosfuckers, Blitz and Millie work together to get Blitz's wrecked van unstuck and push it back through the portal into Hell. I love it because it's so simple and it kind of tells us everything we need to know. This sweet and salty gremlin has a lot of work ahead of him, but he doesn't have to do it alone.

[revelboo]

may you PLEASE write more starscream x reader heheheheh.... ive been eating them up ever since i came across ur blog

I’m glad you like them! That last anon question made me think of something I’m going to have to deal with eventually, though. I mostly write paranormal romance and my intention was to use Tumblr like my note board in my office- that’s what these snippets are- scenes I want to get down so I remember them and can expand them into a coherent story later- I have an AO3 ready for when I start doing that, but because of what the story arc will eventually lead to, it’ll be 18+ I’ve been avoiding writing anything… er, let’s say “spicy” here since I really don’t know the demographic on Tumblr and I’m not interested in corrupting/ mentally scarring preteens or kids. Though, to be fair, I imagine putting a warning up over there is exactly as effective as adding one here.

Everything is Alright Pt 27

Starscream x Reader- trust

• How can you ease him with such a small thing? Just a touch, given freely. Because you might care. He needs to believe that, needs this to be real, not all just an act to save yourself and stay in his good graces. Needs someone who needs him. The truth, though? He doesn’t know and that doubt lingers in the back of his processor as he lays flat on his back, a servo tracing along your back as you sprawl on him alongside his canopy. He can feel every little shift of your small frame against his, your breathing and the beat of your heart. Those sensations now familiar as the pulse of his own spark.

• He’s calmer now, but quiet and that doesn’t sit well with you. It genuinely hurt him that you’d assumed the worst. And even if he hadn’t hurt anyone, you’re sure he still destroyed someone’s home. It’s a reminder that he doesn’t actually care about humans. For whatever reason, you’re the exception. The one left holding his leash while knowing you can’t actually hope to rein in his behavior. Can’t hope to control him. That servo traces the curve of your shoulder. Down the line of your spine. Every stroke seeming to calm that awful anger more. When he vents, the warm air washes over you, stirring your hair. And if you have his leash, he has yours. How can you ever try to really escape when you know he’ll go on a rampage? You’re not even sure that you want to anymore and when did that happen? With that realization comes the one that whispers that you can’t keep writing it off as Stockholm’s. You do care for him as stupid as it probably is.

• Rumbling softly when your head lifts, the slide of his servo pauses because you’re staring at him and he isn’t sure what to make of that look on your face. “What?” He growls, immediately wary. His wings try to shift even though his position restricts them when you carefully stand, a hand on his canopy for balance as you walk closer to his head and sit on his plating where his chassis and neck meet. Still staring at him and he has to tuck his chin to see you.

• That confusion edged with annoyance is almost cute as he frowns at you. Trying to figure out what you’re doing, just like you are. There’s so much you want to say. To ask in that moment, as fragile, new thoughts flutter through you. And it passes, because you can’t risk ruining what you have. It matters to you more than it should. So you just lay a palm on his face, lean down and press a soft kiss to his warm, metal chin. ��Thank you for taking care of me,” you whisper instead of those dangerous, soft things you can’t let loose.

• Watching you retreat back to your original spot on his chassis and then lay down on your side with your back to his canopy, he doesn’t move. Not until your breathing eventually evens out and he’s sure you’re not awake. Then slowly so he doesn’t disturb you, he touches his chin, warmth spreading through him at that little display of affection for him. Venting, he lets his head fall back to stare at the ceiling as something stirs in his spark, kindling in the quiet and he lays a hand over your little frame to keep you safe.

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[ladykakata]

Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich are honestly good influences on each other

I swear I'll write proper posts sometime, but it's been swilling around my head with my other thoughts, so I might as well put it down here.

Mickey and Ian are chaotic nonsense idiots, and yet I cannot argue they don't have a good as well as bad influence on each other and that develops as they age (and constantly get pulled back together whenever they break up lmao).

Ian's influence on Mickey

It's a running joke that Mickey in the early series is this filthy goblin just running around being a hoodlum and ... yeah, he is lmao. But it's very notable as the series progresses that he starts becoming cleaner and dressing nicer the more time he spends with Ian. The man specifically wore a shirt to see Ian in the mental ward ffs. Not only that he actually *tries* working a normal job and socialising, something he is deeply uncomfortable with, but does it for Ian's sake. It doesn't escape my notice that he specifically wants to work with Ian whenever he can, probably tying in to my earlier point that he is only completely comfortable around Ian.

If you told S1 Mickey he would be helping his paraplegic father into the house and getting home nursing for him, he would wonder what kind of sick joke you were playing. But he does, something that even surprises Ian at first. Ian inspires Mickey to talk more about his feelings, he openly admits to thinking about missing Ian, whereas before he threatened to cut Ian's tongue out for saying that Ian missed Mickey. The idea of Mickey changing ANYTHING for anyone else is foreign ... but not if Ian suggests it to him the right way.

Ian's non-judgemental or at least lightly judgemental treatment of Mickey allows the man to be far more comfortable with himself. Though still highly defensive, I think it's telling Mickey is completely unashamed to be a bottom in front of Ian, and Mickey can make socially awkward gestures or gaffs and Ian doesn't upbraid him or make him feel like shit for doing the 'wrong' thing. Hell, as much as Ian was utterly, UTTERLY confused at Mickey's groomzilla episode, he mostly kept his confusion silent and simply reined Mickey in when he was losing his temper with vendors. The flower shop scene has Mickey blithely retorting that while Ian was gay, he 'just likes having another man's dick in my ass'. Ian in the same scene was tensing his jaw at the homophobia from the florist, and normally Mickey is quick to snap at anyone who considers him gay ("You calliin' me gay?" before slamming a bar owner's head into the counter), he simply bats it away as he's more focused on the flowers he wants and only becomes aggressive when the services are threatened to be withdrawn. Ian was always sure and comfortable with his sexuality and had little to no tolerance of homophobia, whereas Mickey was in either strict denial or profoundly uncomfortable and highly secretive.

Mickey's influence on Ian

The most obvious one is that Mickey was Ian's guardian during his bipolar struggles once Mickey finally realised what a problem it as, and he was determined to nurse Ian until he recognised (to his horror) he couldn't deal with this on his own and Ian really did need professional nursing and help.

What strikes me in a lot of scenes, both before and after that arc, is that Ian almost has Mickey as a constant in his life. It's a topic more for aspects of Ian's personality, but Mickey was the person Ian turned to when he had no-one else in S1, when he was in the 72 hour psychiatric hold he explicitly says 'Mickey is waiting for me'. Ian's life is constant chaos, much like Mickeys, and Ian is the sort of person who needs and thrives on structure when his brain isn't acting out. Mickey was a constant, someone to always come back to and someone he could rely on. In a way, I also see Mickey as someone who can be the impulsive one of the pair, letting Ian take the role of the mediator. It's easier for you to resist your own stupid impulses if your override kicks in because someone else is doing something foolish.

As much as I joke that Ian is the only person Mickey listens to, the same happens the other way around in the bipolar arc. During Ian's Military Police hallucination, it was Mickey who broke through the delusion after the shock of almost attacking Debbie brought Ian abruptly back to reality. Even as Mickey at first acts with his typical aggression ("There's nothin' out there! Fuckin' look!") and literally dragging him to the front door to prove the other side is the same, he gently reassures Ian that everything is alright and herds him upstairs to get dressed. Mickey made sure to get explicit instructions on Ian's medication and even measured it out for him ("Shut up and take your pills, bitch" is still one of my favourite lines).

I had more thoughts but my brain is soup and I still want to do a post on Ian's mental health and how he interacts with the world.

Send a prompt or aspect of these two if you want to hear me talk absolute garbage about these lovesick idiots

[quelarie]

My canon Astarion ending is obviously non-ascended, because our vampire boy deserves to escape the cycle of abuse and self-destruction and his ending is so so sweet.

But LISTEN, Ascended Astarion has so many delicious angsty scenarios..

Evil couple who rules Baldur's Gate (for those who watch Critical Role imagine something like the Briarwoods,"I broke the world for you").

Power hungry couple who constantly fight each other for dominance (maybe with Durge who accepted Bhaal?). They argue, hurt each other, hate-fuck, then the next moment profess eternal love. Then do it all again.

Good!Tav who made him ascend out of love and then realize too late that Astarion has changed and they can't go back to what it was before. But they love him still and accept their role as consort, never leaving his side..

My favourite: Good!Tav who failed to persuade him to renounce the ritual. After the ascension they break up with Astarion and become reluctant allies (obviously Tav still loves him but not like this). After a while Astarion realizes that he has everything.. except the one thing he wants the most. So he tries to get Tav back at all costs. This has so much potential for an enemies to lovers arc

Just from a writing and meta perspective it's fun to speculate.

What do you guys think?

[ponderingmoonlight]

Nanami losing it completely when (y/n) gets severely injured at Shibuya

Shibuya Arc scenarios that live in my head rent-free pt.lll

Part l with Gojo and Geto here Part ll with Toji here

Pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

Word Count: 2,3k

Synopsis: After receiving a message with your location, Nanami rushes to your side, showing no mercy with the man who laid his hands on you.

Warnings: I literally shed a tear while writing this so be prepared, sooo much hurt, comfort at the end, you wanted this and I wanted it too this is one of my favorite fics I have ever written

His gaze is empty as he stares down at the bloody shell of his friend. Severely injured by multiple blade slashes, completely covered in his own blood, his life hanging on a thin thread.

“You have some nerves…”, he mutters.

Nanami clenches his hands into fists. Whoever did this will pay for it with his own life, he will make sure of that. But right now he has to get his friend out of here, provide him with better medical treatment, check on the other assistants, make sure that they are alright, eliminate whatever is responsible for Ijichi’s condition. What if that thing hurt the others too? Fuck, how the hell did all of this happen? And where the hell are you?

“(y/n)”, he breathes out.

His heart sinks when reality starts to hit him.

You.

You were also stationed here. After all, you aren’t a jujutsu sorcerer but a skilled combat fighter with impressive powers. You were right here, right here with Ijichi.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright!”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His strong arms lift Ijichi’s numb body up with ease, thoughts racing. If something happened to you, if these fuckers harm a single hair on you…

He runs as fast as he can, fueled by nothing but thick fear and all the emotions that wash over him like a wave. He might lose it all. His friend, everyone else, you. The love of his life, the only woman who truly fascinates him, his best friend. And he hasn’t even told you all that. No, Nanami never shared his feelings with you, not when his fear of losing you is so great. But right now, with the death of his friend in front of his blank eyes, it dawns on him.

After this night, he might lose you forever.  

“Please be alright, I’m coming for you (y/n).”

-(y/n)'s POV-

Your whole body burns like a thousand fires, blood soaking your black suit. Everything aches, you feel like fainting, your sword lifelessly lays on the crimson floor. Is this really how your life comes to an end? Through the hands of someone like him?

“You fucker”, you spit out along with some blood, fists still ready to hit him again.

“Huh, why so rude? I’m just playing a little”, he replies sweetly before beating you in your guts again, his blade narrowly missing you.

It can’t go on like this, you can’t take any other hit. Your puny figure lands on the floor harshly, body desperately screaming at you with every fiber.

But you can’t stop now. After all, Nitta and all the other assistants are relying on you. Right now, you have to be your own hero.

“Standing up again? I’m starting to get bored to be honest. Why can’t you just die already?”

One moment of inattention. One second of giving in to your pain is enough for him to stab his blade through your shoulder, slicing your flesh open with ease. You see stars, the overwhelming pain that starts to radiate through your entire body simply takes your breath away. All you can do is stare at him with wide eyes while a silent scream escapes your lips.

You’ve had so much planned. Damn, you wanted to finally confess your feelings to him. Nanami Kento, the man you admire more than anyone else on this planet, the man that showed you there’s still class, who gets on his knees when talking to you, who makes sure you feel save whenever he’s around. God, how much you love him.

Your face hardens in determination. No, you can’t die without at least telling him once about your true feelings towards him.

With a swift motion you steady yourself again before kicking him with so much force that he crushes into the wall backwards, laughing hysterically.

“Finally you show me what you’ve got!”, he screams out in please while you pant hard.

It’s obvious that you don’t have much left, hanging on a thin string. The amount of blood you’ve lost due to your countless wounds is critical, you don’t need Shoko to know that. If help doesn’t arrive soon, you’ll die right here.

You could call him. Nanami’s number is just one swipe of your finger away. You could call him and tell him where you are, that you’re in big trouble and that you need him just like he told you.

“(y/n), if anything goes wrong, don’t hesitate and call me. I can’t afford to lose you. Promise me to look after yourself.”

He stared so intensely at you back then, his words made your heart skip a beat. But you can’t call him. After all, Nanami is on a much more important mission with countless life relying on his broad shoulders. It would be selfish to expect him to save you while so many people are dying.

“I’m sorry, Kento”, you mumble to yourself, voice nothing more but a fade away whisper.

No, don’t cry right now, don’t let the enemy see that you suffer. Nanami wouldn’t want you so feel this way. Stand your ground one last time, fight back as hard as you can.

One last distress signal. One last way to warn and protect the rest of the team.

“I’ve told everyone where you are, moron”, you shout at him, a maniac grin plastered on your face.

“Ow, how nice of you! Then I’ll hang your body up uhm…right there so they can see you when they come here!”, he remarks with sparkling eyes.

“I’d love to see you try”, you bark back.

-Nanami's POV-

“It’s (y/n)’s location”, Nitta huffs while Nanami bandages Ijichi up and Nobara is busy contacting help.

His heart stops for a second. This means you’re still alive and able to use your phone. But why would you send your location?

“She must have found something…”, Nanami ponders out loud.

“Do you think she needs help?”

Nitta’s voice echoes through his mind. To be honest, he doesn’t care about why you shared your location. All he wants to do right now is find and save you.

“You both stay here with Ijichi. I’ll go looking after (y/n).”

“Can I-“

“No”, Nanami immediately interrupts Nobara’s request.

“You stay here and wait for aid.”

And with that, he’s gone again, following your location blinking on his phone. Please be safe, please smile at him like you always do when you see him, eyes lighting up and making his heart melt. God, just be save.

His feet carry him to your location with ease but let him stop abruptly at the trail of blood in front of the building you are positioned in. Nanami feels like throwing up, the worst scenarios flooding his mind while he stares at the crimson colored floor. He should have accompanied you. No, he shouldn’t have allowed you to come to Shibuya in the first place.

With his head still spinning, he storms into the building and his world stops.

There you lay, in a puddle of your own blood, completely covered in bruises while a man raises his blade against you, just about to sink it into your precious body.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.”

That voice. That all too familiar voice that brings tears to your eyes. Is he really here? Did he get the notification? A single droplet rolls down your cheek while your hazy gaze meets his. He looks so different, absolutely threatening.

Nanami rolls up his sleeves and walks towards both of you. Fuck, you’ve never seen him like this, his aura almost suffocates you. It is clear that he’s absolutely furious.

“I’ll tell you one last time. Back off.”

“Or what?”, the man above you challenges.

“Or I’ll make you regret that you were born.”

His voice makes your blood freeze. As if in slow motion, Nanami loosens his tie and wraps it around his hand.

“Huh, you’re not wearing a black suit, but I guess I’m still allowed to ki-“

He isn’t able to finish his sentence. Nanami’s fist rushes forward in god-like speed, slamming the man off you, through the window, into the next building.

“I’ll be right back. Hold on, sweetheart”, he mutters.

With one last glance at you, he steps out into the cold night, only inches away from losing his temper completely. Who does this man think he is to lay is hands on you and his friends? This is unacceptable, this is unforgivable. Nanami will make him pay for every minor wound conflicted on your striking body, he will make him regret his whole life before ending it.

“What’s the number and locations of your allies?”

It isn’t enough to only kill him. No, every single one of these fuckers will pay for what they did today. For killing countless assistants, for almost ending the life of his friend.

But most importantly, for hurting the love of his life.

“I don’t know!”, the man hollers at him, trying to slice him open unsuccessfully.

Nanami stares at him with dead calm eyes while he tries to hit him another time, his patience slowly starting to fail him.

“What’s the number and locations of your allies?!”

His hands are clenches into tight fists. One more word. One more word of nonsense coming out of his mouth and he’ll kill him.

“I don’t k-“

Enough. One punch is enough to send that fucker through the next window.

You can’t help but admire the way Nanami walks up to him, his forearms flexed in a way you have never seen before while his broad shoulders seem to crush you with his confidence. He looks absolutely threatening, like a menace.

The blond-haired man tries to escape, but in the matter of seconds, Nanami grabs his ponytail and lifts him up.

“What’s the number and locations of your allies?”

You hold your breath, eyes wide open by the sound of his voice. This isn’t the Nanami Kento you know, the tender man with cool temper that never loses it. But oh, at the moment you feel like he’s possessed with the way his muscles flex underneath his shirt, the look on his face so furious that you have to swallow.

“I told you, I don’t kn-“

Another hit and the blonde lands on the ground, a dumb smile plastered on his face. You know that look all too well, he has planned something…Where is his blade?

There it is, on its way to slash Nanami open. You don’t hesitate. Despite the way your shoulder screams at you and begs you to stop, you grab your sword and throw it, deflecting his blade deftly just before it reaches Nanami while crying out in pain.

“You little bitch, stay out!”, he screams at you.

Nanami snaps. He grabs his throat roughly, chocking him without any mercy.

“You have some nerves, calling her a bitch when I’m standing in front of you. How dare you to even talk to her, to lay your hands on her body? On my way here, I found several of our assistant supervisors dead. That was you, wasn’t it? And now you dare to raise your voice against my girl?”

“I-I’m sorry”, the blonde stutters.

It happens faster than your tired eyes can follow. One last blow of Nanami’s fist sends the man out of the building, out of sight. This killed him without any doubt. Your eyes begin to water uncontrollably when a wave of relief washes over you. Despite all the blood you’ve lost, you’re alive. Nanami is here, he saved you.

“Don’t stand up, (y/n). You’re losing a severe amount of blood”, Nanami’s calm voice instructs before he kneels down in front of you.

“Kento”, you whisper his name like a prayer, tears rolling down your cheeks as the pain becomes unbearable.

“I know, sweetheart. You did really well, I’m so proud of you. Without your selfless efforts, he would probably have claimed even more victims. I still don’t call it good that you didn’t inform me about this situation.”

His hand caresses your bruised cheek gently, making you lose it completely.

“I didn’t want other people to get killed because you were busy with me”, you cough out.

“(y/n), no matter how critical the situation is, I will always look after you. You are the greatest treasure of my life and I…”

“I love you!”, you cry out, pressing your head against his head.

All these countless nights of dreaming about him holding you, all the stolen glances, the pondering. You just can’t take it anymore. Maybe it’s the blood loss or the immense pain that seems to speak out of you, but you’ve had enough. Fuck getting rejected or losing him because of your dumb feelings, you need him to know.

“I love you too, sweetheart. When I saw you laying here in your own blood I felt like dying myself.”

All you can do is stare at him through glossy eyes. Did this words really just leave his mouth? Of all the possible answers you imagined for this moment, “I love you too”, definitely wasn’t one of them.

“Let’s talk about this later, shall we? I need to get you out of here, you need medical attention”, he continues.

“I will pick you up now, okay?”

His hands glide under your knees and back, lifting your aching body up with ease and pressing your frame against his chest.

You groan out, hand cramping around his shirt.

“Thank you for saving me. And for loving me.”

His heart skips a beat, the lovely look on your distressed face almost making him forget how to breathe. How is it possible that a perfect human being like you loves someone like him? His arms wrap themselves tighter around your body.

“Don’t thank me for that, sweetheart.”

He will never let you go again. Not at Shibuya, not anywhere else.

[stitching-in-time]

Finally caught up on Star Trek: Prodigy, and I truly think it's the best of the new Star Trek series. It has the strongest first season of any Trek show since Voyager, and it both respects the Star Trek universe and expands on it beautifully.

As an animated series, it has a grand scale and visual beauty that's unmatched in all of Star Trek. This show is breathtakingly gorgeous! All the design work is top notch; the character designs especially are truly different and unique and completely break the 'basically humanoid aliens with bumpy foreheads' mold.

For all that people seem to ignore it because it's a kids show, I think it has the strongest and most thoughtful writing of all the new Trek shows. The premise of child slaves escaping a mining asteroid in a stolen Starfleet ship is actually the darkest of any Trek series, and there's as many heartbreaking moral dilemmas to chew over as any Trek series ever gave us. But it captures the optimistic, humanist spirit of Star Trek far better than a show like Picard does, because unlike that show, it's not trying to be dark to be edgy or cool, it's trying to be honest and to find hope and light amidst dark circumstances. Hope that a better future is possible is what made Star Trek edgy in the first place, and as the world gets more cynical, holding onto that ideal is infinitely more punk than cynicism could ever be. Prodigy gets that, and it respects the history and lore of Star Trek while building on it. It was clearly made by people who've actually seen Voyager, and actually know and like Captain Janeway, because what we see of her here feels like the Janeway I grew up with. It's like getting to see an old friend again, having new adventures, while still being the same person she always was.

I do like all the other new Trek series, except for Picard, and I feel like for the most part, they've been very strong, and in keeping with the spirit of Star Trek. But Prodigy has this special mix of being tied directly to the old stuff while adding something entirely new. The epic scale of the first season's story arc was amazing, it is one of, if not the, best season finales I've ever seen in all of Star Trek. I'm grew up on the 90s shows, which will always have my heart, but Prodigy is such a mind-blowing expansion of that whole universe, I'm honestly astounded and grateful that someone used my old faves to make this epic new thing, which hopefully will bring an entirely new audience to the old stuff.

Despite the fact that there's lots of deep lore references that us grown up Trekkies can pick out with delight everywhere, the story of the main protagonists is self contained, and doesn't actually need any previous familarity with Star Trek to understand. Since the main characters don't know what Starfleet or the Federation even is, the audience can discover that along with them. It's such a genius concept, and it works so well! I honestly cried watching the season finale, it wrapped up the season's worth of story and character development so well, and set things up for an exciting new season. The characters are so well defined and lovable already! It has humor, it has adventure, it has heart, it's a classic Star Trek found family story!

I just can't rave about Prodigy enough, it exceeded all my expectations and then some. Everyone who loves Star Trek, please go watch it! Everyone who loves animation, please go watch it! Especially if you love Captain Janeway and Voyager, please go watch it! I want as many more seasons of this show as I can possibly get, so we need to keep streaming it so Netflix sees how popular it is and decides to make more.

I guess I'm in the category of old Trekkies now, so believe me when I say this show is what Star Trek is all about! Please please please give it a chance and you'll love it too!!!

[pankielovesfan]

II SPOILERS!!! (Ramble about fan again)

I randomly started writing paragraphs about how fan's character arc was very much super-centric on how he was made by mephone but it was hidden SO well because it could be really easily played off as fan having an extreme attachment to the show. which he does. but I'll see if i can explain it better.

There's so many instances of Fan being "just a fan" and that's quite literally what his entire character is centered around, and his development is all about him becoming more than just a fan and exploring more about himself.

All of this??? SO clearly ties together with him being generated by mephone. And its not noticeable even if its in your face! IT ADDS A WHOLE NEW LAYER BEHIND EVERYTHING that still amuses me.

The scene where the prime shimmer says, "but beyond that, who are YOU?" with Fan saying he didn't know- IS SO PERFECTLY PLAYED OFF! Because of course it perfectly ties together with Fan not being able to see himself outside of his identity. You read it as fan being so dedicated to the show that he doesn't have an identity outside of it. But then it turns out he quite literally HAS nothing else. He's NEVER had anything besides being a fan. It makes everything so much more.... LAYERED AND IT'S SOMETHING I KEEP THINKING ABOUT!!! BEcause before this it's like. He was so obviously making his entire identity about what he loves in a very much neurodivergent way I will mention that, so it's not even a subtle thing that he quite literally WAS made to be a fan of the show!!! BUT YOU DONT EVEN NOTICE IT. GOSH

And WHY this works while still hiding the reveal is how persistent Fan is about still BEING a fan of the show and not seeing himself outside of it. Fan is smart. He seemed to KNOW there was more than just the show. He had already figured this out long ago but was in denial because it threatened his comfort. I'm sure the new episode tells you just how intelligent Fan is in reaching for conclusions and speculating about everything along with several other episodes where he could predict future episode plots. Yet when knowing there is more to the show, he refuses to accept it, he states he didn't want to believe Paintbrush because they Knew the game was "more", right? This means he Did know something else was going on. But he's avoiding it. Why? (Already very much seen in episode 13 and explained but I'm re-saying it all)

Fan obviously loves the show and is very attached to the show. He wants to stay in the comfort of playing the role he was meant to! He wants to keep being ii's biggest fan! He's so tied to his identity as a fan of the show and he doesn't want to let that go and embraces it so much that it's easy to think this was a conscious choice in his story. That he chose to indulge as much as he does in ii and he has no urge to escape the role he was meant to play. His whole story just makes sense writing wise- but the reveal twists this entirely. Contrary to a lot of people who feel they want distance from the show due to experiences and feeling trapped, Fan is still latching onto it! BECAUSE HE LIKES BEING TRAPPED IN THE ROLE HE WAS MADE TO PLAY!!!!

thanks for reading. goodbye

[your-unfriendlyghost]

“Under the Drive-In Fence”

Jk jk- Halloween art no. 2: Over the Garden Wall au, anyone?

(kinda a collab w/ myself- I drew most of the background a few years ago but didn’t do anything with it lol. Did update it a decent amount tho for this)

“The ol’ black train’s a comin’, scraping ‘long the iron. You don’t need no ticket, boys, it’ll take ya in its time…”

-

Concept is that since the Unknown in Over the Garden Wall is basically a pretty autumnal purgatory, it’s where our boys Johnny and Dally went after dying.

From Johnny’s pov, he woke up after meeting Dally in Windrixville here in the forest with Dally. And also with some mysterious burn scars that he doesn’t remember getting.

Dally claims not to know where they are, only that they “jumped onto a train” and are somewhere vaguely “north of Tulsa”. Johnny buys his story at first, but it slowly becomes clear that Dally’s lying- and plus, Johnny keeps having dreams where he remembers bits and pieces of the hospital and the fire and all the other shit that went down.

Dally, however, knows they’re dead. He remembers everything- hazily, but enough to know for sure. So he tells Johnny that they’re just trying to get to his “Ma’s place”, when actually he’s just trying to keep Johnny from moving on and going to…whatever it is that happens after purgatory.

Their arcs, I imagine, go something like this: Dally learns to accept that the after life is a mystery and that he has to be okay with that if he ever wants to escape these woods- all while experiencing the sort of peaceful experiences he never got to have in life, from weird festivals to live music to sunsets.

Johnny, on the other hand, learns to come out of his shell a bit- the weird world of the Unknown is easy for Johnny to slot into, as he’s observant and insightful and often figures out the mysteries before Dally does. He also learns to accept his death, but not before tromping around the woods for a while with one of his best friends.

As for the Unknown, I imagine it’s a bit more of a mix of old New England and old southern/southwest culture than just New England inspired alone. Like maybe the woodsman is an old cowboy or ranger or something, yk? Just so it still has some Oklahoma-ish-ness to it lol.

Idk, those are my thoughts on it right now! Might draw/write more about it later, idk, but in the meantime that’s good enough- Let me know your thoughts on it!

[thefriendoforatioisdead]

No because the most tragic thing about this whole situation is that the best thing to ever happen in Oon's life is her sister being in a coma from which she might never wake up.

Like...Objectively, since Oom is out of the picture, Oon got a girlfriend, she's learning self-esteem, she's finding herself new life goals, a passion, it reminded her of her talent for writing, she's learning that she has value, her relationship with her grandmother is getting better and she doesn't have to compete anymore ! She can be just one individual, detached from her sister. Her life is great, and much better than when Oom was still there.

And she knows it. She knows that actually the best thing would be if Oom never woke up. But Oom is her sister anyway, and even if they don't get along, and apparently never did, she still loves her. She loves her so much, and she feels indebted to her, and she resents her and she feels like she's so so much below her, and she wants to protect her and she would be devastated to actually lose her. And it's clearly hurting her to be so happy while her sister might die, to be happy because of things she got BECAUSE her sister might die !

And although she's finally getting a taste of being herself, an indivual person, Oom's shadow is always here, towering above her, inescapable simply by the fact that it's the only name she hears in the mouth of the woman she loves !

The plot of the computer for me can be seen as a metaphor of how Oon feels like Oom sort of...Gifted her her life. She gave her a chance to ''steal'' what was hers (her computer, May, their grandmother's attention...) and better herself, pick up her life and make something of it. And she plans on returning it all when (if) Oom wakes up, but by then, Oon is convinced she will have her life together enough for it to be easy. She uses the computer to become a writer and achieve her dream, she enjoys May and their Grandmother's love to remember her value. She's taking what she needs to get better. That's what she thinks. But the truth is that she's still not escaping her sister's presence, and she's now not just IN her shadow, she IS her shadow.

So I think Oon's real character arc (and I'm kicking down open doors, ik) will be to learn to be herself, separately from anything that is Oom's. She can't be in love and be loved truly as long as she lies to May, and she won't be satisfied until she found a way to be herself, by herself.

[zepskies]

hey love!! so in awe of your writing & writing style and i wanted to ask which fic of yours is your favorite?

Well hey there, my lovely!

Oh wow, you're so kind, thank you!! 🥰💜💜 That is a tough question... So I'm going to cheat a little bit and give you my top 3:

3. Smoke Eater (Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.  That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator. 

This was my first full AU series. It came from my love of Chicago Fire and medical and cop procedurals like it. Throw in a murder mystery, arson, former playboy Dean, and other angsty storylines in the middle of a whirlwind romance, and you got yourself a firefighter AU! ❤️‍🔥

2. Break Me Down (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

I feel like most people would expect me to answer this one for number one, but it's still very close to my heart. It was my first real foray into the complex, lovable asshole known as Soldier Boy (Ben).

And it was my attempt at creating a redemption arc for him through an "enemies to lovers" story, edgier than anything I'd done previously, thanks to the grittiness of The Boys world.

I've continued writing far past the original series because I just can't quit these two, and this version of Ben.

1. Midnight Espresso Series (Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized Latina Reader)

This is a collection of stories in the SPN fandom, and it's very personal to me! (I'm plus-sized and Latina.) Though I tried to make it so all readers, regardless of race/ethnicity or otherwise, could enjoy those stories as well.

It gave me the chance to pair Dean with a reader character who is also a giver like him, who looks out for and cares for him in the same way he cares for others, all while being a badass hunter herself.

From dramatic and angsty hurt/comfort to fluffy smut, I've tried to explore many facets of their relationship, while utilizing both my heritage/culture and my personal experience with body insecurity, body shaming, etc. Like BMD, this is a series I can always come back to and write more stories for. 💜

Bonus: The Honorable Choice - (Dean W. x OFC)

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

I haven't dropped this one yet, but I'm mentioning it because it's currently one of my favorite projects that I've worked on so far!

⬆️ Part 1 coming on 11/03 (Read it on Patreon now!)

[dreamcatcheratdawn]

Can you write something about Shanks x reader? Like, the reader was teleported by Kuma, now she's on Shanks's ship and he offered himself to train her. (Can be fluffy with a little bit of angst. And slightly of age gap)

I loved the idea✨. Shanks is one of my favorite OP characters (after Luffy, Kid and Zoro, of course). And I wrote this while marathoning One Piece (I'm still in the Punk Hazard arc 😭) one eye was on the caption and the other eye was on the writing.

"Let me help you"

Pairing: Shanks x gn!reader

Warning: slight angst, fluff most of the time.

W/C: 18.1k

You, as a resident of the Sabaody Archipelago since birth, are good friends with Rayleigh and Shakky. Ever since you were 7 years old, you would sneak out of your house to visit Shakky's Rip-off Bar just so you could listen to Rayleigh tell several of his adventure stories from when he was still a pirate while Shakky prepared his favorite juice. It was like a hobby, and you loved it.

You just didn't expect that on another calm, sunny day, a seriously injured fish-man, a mermaid, a talking starfish and a group of very strange pirates would show up at Shakky's bar.

At the bar, as you sipped a beer, you watched the scene unfold in front of you, seeing what looked like a pet bandaging the fish-man.

"A raccoon?" You said, tilting your head to the side. The animal in question looked furious and turned its head towards you. "I AM NOT A RACCOON, I AM A REINDEER!" the reindeer exclaimed, blowing smoke out of its nostrils. He went back to what he was doing, muttering quietly.

Rayleigh, smiling, came to his side, taking a seat in front of the counter.

"What happened while you were out?" You asked Rayleigh, as Shakky offered him a glass of beer.

"Oh, I was almost sold into slavery," Rayleigh said, as calmly as if this happened to him often. "EHHHH?" You were shocked, not that enslaving humans shocked you, as much as you found it disgusting, but who in the world could capture Silvers Rayleigh to be sold! That didn't fit at all.

"How did they catch you? And how did you escape?" You kind of already knew the answer, just the use of the King's Haki was enough for Rayleigh to get away.

"I had the help of that little guy over there" He pointed his chin at the boy with a straw hat on his head who ate like a pig, if not worse. Rayleigh was now talking to Shakky, while you brought the glass of beer to your lips, feeling the bitter taste of the cheap drink. "Ah, did you know that he faced a Tenryuubito?"

Immediately, you choked on that information, beer coming out of your nose.

"Ahhhh, a lady!" A blond man came up to you with hearts in his eyes, offering you a handkerchief. "How could I not see you there? With this beauty that blinds a man, forgive me miss, you don't deserve such disgrace." You ignored the chatter of the blond man with the strange eyebrows and walked over to the boy in the straw hat.

"EI" You caught his eye and that of the rest of the people present. "Are you crazy? Do you want to attract the attention of the navy by taking on a Tenryuubito?" You snorted next to the boy. You, in your thirties, had never heard such an appalling event.

Swallowing the piece of meat he was eating, the straw hat said, "I'm not crazy! And I only did it because that idiot shot Hachi, so of course I'm going to fight back!" He exclaimed, looking at you with a kind of determination. That shocked you to some extent. You sighed heavily "Still, who are you to stand up to a protégé of the World Government?"

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm going to be the King of the Pirates!" Luffy exclaimed once again, taking the large piece of meat into his mouth and swallowing.

"Ah, so you're that pirate with a 300 million berry bounty," you said, leaning against the counter. "But that won't solve anything, the navy will surely strike back."

"Actually, it's likely that they're already on their way here" Rayleigh said "Hey Shakky, I want some more beer" He said, indignant that his drink had run out.

You sighed once more, feeling the pangs of a headache when too many bad things were happening at once. After a while, the Straw Hat pirates left the bar, saying they were going to stay in the archipelago for another three days to throw off the Navy. The place was now silent, leaving only you, Shakky, Rayleigh, Hachi and his friends, whom you knew as Camie and Pappag. In your mind, the events of now were running wild.

A few hours later, Rayleigh stood up, heading for the door of the bar.

"Where are you going?" You asked, crossing your arms.

"I'm going to help Luffy" He left before you could say anything else. "Tch, what a stubborn old man" You exclaimed.

"Come on, he can take care of himself, you know that" Shakky said smiling as he cleaned the counter

Hours and hours passed and no news about Rayleigh or the Gang of Straw Hats.

You paced back and forth, anxiety running through your mind as you bit your nails. You stopped, looking at the door. Making up your mind, you headed for the exit, ignoring Shakky's protests for you to stay.

Running through the mangroves, you followed the sound of explosions, the smoke filling your lungs every time you got close. Arriving at your destination, you saw that the place was a zone, pirates everywhere, navy soldiers firing into the wind. Scanning around, you found Rayleigh fighting Kizaru, a navy admiral you knew only by face. Before you could get to Rayleigh, a familiar shout made you stop, turning in the direction of the sound. It was Luffy shouting, while his companions were fighting Kuma, one of the Navy's seven Shichibukais. When Kuma's hand touched one of Luffy's companions, one with orange hair, she disappeared in the blink of an eye.

On impulse, you went over to them, wondering if you could help them. You barely knew Luffy, but the short time you spent together was enough for you to judge him as a man of good intentions.

As you ran towards them, you saw that some of Luffy's companions were missing. You guessed that they had been defeated, probably by Kuma.

"Luffy!" you shouted, pulling him out of the way of Kuma's hands, but this only resulted in one thing: you tripping over something you didn't identify and falling to the ground. You turned to Kuma, pulling a gun from your waistband as you fired wildly at him, but it had no effect.

"A friend of Luffy from Straw Hat?" The Shichibukai said, staring at you for a few seconds before his giant hand touched you, the power of his Akuma no Mi taking effect, his body disappearing. You felt an enormous pressure in the room, causing you to faint immediately afterwards.

You felt trapped in something soft while you were lying down. It was as if you were lying on a pile of clouds. Opening your eyes slowly, small pains spread through your body. On closer inspection, you were flying in the sky, but you couldn't feel the breeze and, incredibly, you didn't feel short of breath because you were wrapped in a kind of bubble. Dramatically, the memories returned to your mind, making you feel pathetic.

"Damn, I couldn't do anything useful" you thought to yourself, mulling it over as the bubble carried you across the vast sky. You still had the gun in your hand, so you put it in your waistband, not that it was any use without bullets. You didn't know how many hours or days you had slept, but you wanted to know what your fate would be. Before you could think of anything else, the bubble protecting you landed, startling you. What if it fell into the open sea? You knew how to swim, but sea monsters could appear anywhere.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you fell into a ship, hitting your back on the wooden floor.

"Damn…" you cursed, then got up and opened your eyes, only to find a bunch of men around you. A pirate ship, your senses alerted you, making your hand go towards the gun you always carried, pointing it at several of the men.

"Boss, come and see this." A portly man with a piece of meat in his hand spoke up. As the men around you moved away, you could immediately feel an overwhelming presence. Turning in the direction of the presence, you could see a man with red hair and a scar on his face coming towards you. Immediately, you recognized the man. It was impossible not to recognize the pirate in question, given the fact that both his person and his deeds were notorious and circulated widely on people's lips. It was Shanks, The Redhead, a name that made many people shudder just to hear it.

Your body trembled, the gun in your hand wavering as you pointed it in the Redhead's direction, bitterly regretting your decision, but you were too proud to turn back.

"Well well, looks like we've got a scared kitten here," Shanks laughed, looking over at you. He crouched down very close to you, leaning his forehead against the barrel of the gun. "Aren't you going to shoot?" A faint smile appeared on the pirate's face as he stared into your soul.

"Don't play games with me," you said, with great difficulty, trying to sound strong, but coming out more like a cry for help.

Shanks stared at you for what seemed like an eternity, before bursting into laughter, his body tilting backwards, his men doing the same. You, not understanding anything, blushed intensely with embarrassment. "Ouch, scaredy-cat, how the hell did you get here out of nowhere, huh?" Shanks asked after wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

You, seeing no point in hiding the truth, (not as if you could, Shanks would get the truth out anyway) told him the truth. He understood, saying that he knew Luffy, then smiling, saying that the boy only got into trouble.

"Well, what if I taught you how to fight for real?" He came up with the idea out of the blue, while sipping sake sitting on one of the ship's barrels.

You looked at him, surprised by his proposal. You looked at the ground, remembering how pathetic you were to try to fight a Shichibukai when you didn't even know the basics of anything. You looked at Shanks again, determination shining in your eyes.

"Please teach me how to fight!"

Shanks smiled, setting the sake aside as he stood up. "Looks like the scared little kitten has guts. I like that about you."

You blushed slightly at his words, standing up too. "Well, I'll teach you everything I know."

Days and days went by as Shanks taught you the most varied fighting techniques. Months later, he saw that you were strong enough to learn how to use Weapons Haki and Observation Haki. A year and a half flew by and you didn't even notice. Along with fighting and teaching, you developed feelings for Shanks.

It started with the nicknames; kitten, shawty, cutie. Then there were touches here and there. As well as the time you spent together without fighting or learning the theory of anything. Just the moments Shanks spent recounting his adventures with a twinkle in his eye in the dead of night when most of the pirates were too drunk to sober up. And you listened to every word that came out of his mouth with admiration, secretly happy for the adventures he had been through. There were also the times when he and the crew tried your sweets, from the first day you started making them, with the excuse that it was payment for his teaching and temporary hospitality. But you couldn't deny to yourself that the reason was just to please him as much as possible, so that you could receive a pat on the head or a mess of hair, followed by compliments from the redhead.

Oh, and let's not forget the flirting. The damned flirting that he would give you with that mischievous little smile, to which you would respond back with rosy cheeks, not wanting to be left behind in any way, especially when it came to Shanks.

And on this night in question, it seems he was loaded with flirting to try and embarrass you while everyone drank and ate outdoors, partying for nothing.

"Hey Y/N." The sound of the redhead's sweet voice caught her attention, her head turning in the direction of the melody that called her name. Seeing him sitting next to Benn, sipping a sake, you smiled, putting your hands on your waist. "Yes, Shanks?" You answered the man, already preparing yourself for what was to come.

"If I happen to drown, do I get a mouth to mouth breath from you?" he asked, his damn winning smile opening the door for your heart to skip a beat.

Her legs turned to jelly for a moment, never getting used to the feeling of receiving the slightest bit of attention from Shanks.

"Well, try your luck and I'll be happy to do it," you replied, putting a false smile on your face, but you didn't know whether to throw yourself into the sea out of embarrassment or kiss Shanks in front of everyone.

Shanks, being the flirt he was - very professional, so to speak - didn't expect you to be able to respond to his flirting, or even better than that, which caused the man to have a total meltdown, leaving him speechless.

"HAHA, Y/N dismantled the boss" Lucky laughed out loud, his companions laughing next, bringing Shanks to attention, his cheeks slightly flushed. He hid his smile as he turned over the sake bottle.

After an hour or so, the crew of the Redhead Pirates were too drunk to even stand up. Some went to sleep in their rooms, others blacked out in whatever corner of the ship was considered "comfortable".

You were washing the dishes that the men had soiled during the party. Living with men wasn't easy, since Benn was one of the few who cared at all about the cleanliness of the ship. So you did the cleaning, since you couldn't stand living in the mess and dirt.

You started thinking about your home in Sabaody, missing Rayleigh's stories, Shakky's cheap booze, the cotton candy from the Archipelago that tasted special. You felt a pang in your chest from nostalgia. You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you didn't feel the presence of Shanks behind you, only sensing when his arms were wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. The man's sudden movement made your body shudder. "Shanks?" You looked at him, confused.

He looked at you, while smiling faintly. "Yes, kitten?" he purred softly, his nose sinking into your clothes, his eyes closing as he inhaled your perfume deeply.

In that situation, you felt stagnant, not knowing what to do. Your heart was pounding like crazy, your hair was standing on end, and the desire to kiss him right then and there was greater than anything in the world.

You swallowed dryly, dropping the dishes from your hands as you wiped your hands on the cloth on your other shoulder. "Are you even sober?" You asked, apprehensive of his answer.

Shanks opened his eyes, squinting at you for a few seconds, then immediately turned his body so that you were facing him. Shanks' muscular body pressed against yours, making you breathless. "Enough to answer for my actions." Shanks said, their faces very close together, Shanks' lips almost touching yours as his eyes roamed over your lips, without any shame in facing them.

You were losing your sanity and along with it, your patience. "Kiss," you said, drawing his attention instantly to your eyes. "If you have the courage, of course." You challenged, your breathing pausing for a moment to see what he was going to do.

"You asked for it," Shanks said before attacking your lips, and what began as a sloppy kiss, saliva spilling out, continued with a kiss of dominance from both of you, tongues and teeth clashing, making you both lose your breath, while his hands circled your waist, squeezing lightly from time to time, and you snaked your arms around his neck, stroking his soft hair. You separated so you could breathe.

That didn't stop Shanks from sprinkling wet kisses all over your face, which you gladly accepted, not letting any opportunity pass you by. "Be part of my crew" he said breathlessly "I like you. I like you a lot. I can't let you get away from me." The redhead's statement made your heart leap, longing for this moment since the day you realized you liked that man. "Please?" He asked, his pleading eyes looking at you while his face was a pure mess, and you were probably on the same level. It stirred you, a chill in your stomach settling in.

"Yeah," you didn't have to think long. God, it was Shanks over there, begging you like a puppy to stay by his side. "And I like you too." Both the statement and the quick acceptance surprised Shanks, making him blink a few times. "That easy? I thought women played hard to get at times like this." His arms encircled your body even more, bringing you closer to him.

"Well, I'm a straightforward woman. But I need you to stop by the Sabaody Archipelago. I need to know how Shakky and Rayleigh are doing after all that mess with the Navy," you said, your hands on Shanks' bare chest. Shanks' eyebrows rose. "You know Silvers Rayleigh?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes… he's like a father to me" You said, tilting your head to the side. "You've never said that to me," the redhead uttered, indignantly.

Instead of just replying with a simple "sorry", you decided to be mischievous. "Do I have to?" you said, a little smile playing across your face. Shanks sighed in shock, then smiled and pinched your nose. "You little brat, respect me, I'm older than you"

"It's only nine years apart," you smiled, joining in the fun as you enjoyed your evening, knowing that you had made the right choice from the start.

If you've made it this far, I take off my straw hat. Jokes aside, but I got too carried away writing this, sorry if it's too long. And I hope you enjoyed it, I really do.

[haine-kleine]

when I attempt to analyze Todoroki Touya's character, I get a distinct feeling Horikoshi's spreadsheet for him before chapter 290 looked like this:

'DABI IS TODOROKI TOUYA (hint at him being Todoroki Touya as much as possible) (make something up for his backstory later)

that's not how you write a secret evil relative subplots. the goal shouldn't be making the reveal as dramatic as possible. especially in the corruption 'break the cutie' type of stories. to make the readers feel for this character, you shouldn't be dedicating your time to teasing them with the possibility of the reveal, you need to also tell the actual damn story.

and Horikoshi just. forgot to do that.

to make the reveal hold any weight and not just serve as a delayed gratification clickbait after years of teasing the readers, you have to establish who the character actually was before they became the villain. if you don't do this, the reveal alone won't do anything to make the audience sympathize with the character, because by that point it will be too late to sway the established opinion with an angsty backstory alone.

Arcane tells a very similar story of the family conflict, but to have the audience be interested in the sisters reunion, to have them feel bad for Jinx despite the horrible acts she commits, you have to first see Powder, the troubled unfortunate and insecure child who loved her sister. only once we are emotionally attached to that innocent and unfairly suffering character, we will start questioning her motives and our emotions once the corruption starts.

if you show the before as a sympathetic character, the after becomes painful not only to the in-universe characters affected by what their once close person had become. if you show the after and hold off the before until after the characters have already reacted to the identity revealing event, your audience will react with 'cool motive, still murder', because they never developed any emotional attachment to said character, no matter how much you make them cry in the flashbacks.

loose reimagining of the family arc under the cut.

and it was so stupid to skip this step because Horikoshi didn't even have to do much. the first point of view we have on the Todoroki family history is Shouto, the youngest sibling who had been isolated from the rest for most of his life. he didn't know much about his siblings, but let him know something! especially with how closely his and Touya's stories are paralleled by design, he should know about Touya the most out of anyone, and Touya is the sibling he should be most curious about.

think about it from Enji and Shouto's pov. Touya was the heir Endeavor created for fulfilling his dream, and after Fuyumi he wasn't planning on having more kids. it was Touya's incompatibility with his own quirk, the eugenics experimentation failure, that is the only reason Natsuo and Shouto even exist. and Shouto is the chosen heir, perfectly fulfilling all conditions demanded by Enji. so he trains him like he wanted to train Touya, but that's not all of it. while Shouto is genetically fit to be a perfect replacement for the role Enji had prepared for Touya, his father had never emotionally connected with him the way he did with Touya. and he made sure Shouto was aware of that, because he talked to Shouto about Touya.

Shouto, who had been miserable because of his father for most of his life, knows that Touya was the older brother who should have been in his place, and he escaped that place. he stopped his training and left the dojo to live a normal life, together with his siblings. and Shouto wanted to have that life more than anything. he begged his father to let him join his siblings, he wistfully observed them through the windows, he imagined what his siblings are like, he asked his mother about them. and the entire time, the sibling he knew the most about was Touya, his eldest brother whom he had to replace as father's training dummy.

there's so much space for depth in there! you can do so much by briefly sharing the intensity of Shouto's complicated feelings, by giving a bare glimpse of his rumination about his siblings. just don't lump them all together into a faceless blob of happy children that unhappy little Shouto wanted to join, because their history is so much deeper than that.

inserting the flashback of Enji talking to Shouto about Touya during the Sports Festival arc would have been the best way to set up the intrigue. just a bare glimpse of Enji using Touya as the example little Shouto was failing to follow, cut to Shouto observing his three siblings through the window.

and that would be enough to connect the initial story threads of the Todoroki family and nudge the readers in the right direction. Iida also has an older brother who is a hero. with that example in mind Shouto not mentioning Touya at all would be suspicious enough to have people start questioning the mysterious older brother's identity, because surely, if the number one hero, who trained Shouto to be the most proficient hero in his class trained his older brother as well he would be a licenced hero already?

then, the lack of said brother's presence in the story starts to become glaring. the simple mention for Enji having trained Touya and telling Shouto how good his brother was with his quirk, separates him from the faceless group of Shouto's civilian siblings who are out there doing their boring civilian stuff and not necessarily needed to be in this story about kids becoming heroes. Touya being dead is a reveal put away for later, but to drive up the intrigue, he needs to be a ghost haunting the narrative. make it inconsistent and confusing, make characters talk about him and omit saying anything outright.

then you can use Natsuo as a red herring by not introducing the siblings by names when they visit Rei together. he's Shouto's older brother, he is weirdly hostile to Endeavor, he lives away from the family. well, this checks out. but wasn't this weirdly anticlimactic?.. also didn't he say he doesn't do well in hot temperatures?

later, during the Todoroki family dinner arc introduce Natsuo by name and confuse the readers even more, because the new brother turned out to not be Touya whom we have been anticipating to meet since Shouto had first talked about his family. make Shouto, who is still adjusting to being able to interact with his siblings, start asking about their childhood. he wants to express that happiness he feels about being together with them, so he wonders out loud if Touya also felt this happy when father allowed him to play with Fuyumi and Natsuo more. his brother and sister's faces turn weirdly grim at that remark. Fuyumi offers some stories from their childhood, trying to lighten the mood. that's the readers first proper glimpse at Touya in the flashbacks. Fuyumi talks about him always being on his computer, how impossible it was to drag him outside to play. Natsuo reminisces how the slightest stretch of intense activity was enough to have him fall to the ground and refuse to get up. Fuyumi talks about the time Touya and herself made 8 years old Natsuo carry both of them. Natsuo proudly reports that he didn't even break his back. the atmosphere in the room is light and comfortable, Shouto listening to their stories with undivided attention, his eyes glistening. after a moment of idle silence, Natsuo glances at him. he tells Shouto how usually it's hard to read his face, because he is so unexpressive. but he remembers when Shouto was little he was a total crybaby, just like Touya was.

with the picture of Touya the child painted and the question about adult Touya up in the air, Enji can join the dinner. Natsuo storms off and Shouto follows him and Enji, not understanding what caused his chill older brother to act like this. Fuyumi attempts to hold him back, to no avail. she doesn't want Shouto to hear what Natsuo has to say to their father. she also is no longer sure that keeping him in the dark is the correct decision. she sighs, 'mother, what should I do?'. she is too young for this.

insert Midoriya into the family dinner if you want your dramatic storytelling, and have him timidly ask Fuyumi why did their older brother not join them for dinner. cut to Shouto hiding behind the door, listening to Natsuo's shouts about Enji abandoning him and Fuyumi, stealing their mom and Shouto from them, ruining Shouto's childhood. 'but you know what you will never be forgiven for, not even in hell?' Natsuo asks, tears streaming down his face. cut to-

'Touya is dead', Fuyumi tells Midoriya, his pleasant smile frozen on his face, eyes growing wide.

cut back to Shouto, hyperventilating behind the palms covering his face. he doesn't even notice sliding down the wall. he barely registers the heavy footsteps of Enji going back in his direction and he can't be bothered to care about his eavesdropping being discovered. his mind is still echoing Natsuo's words on repeat.

'you can play hero all you want, but you know what you really are is a murderer'.

boom. hook, line and sinker. no need to have the characters spell out who thinks what, the '[Natsuo thinks that] Enji killed Touya' was so stupidly unnecessary it turned a mystery drama thriller Todoroki subplot into a Law and Order episode. let the characters speak their minds and reach their own conclusions! when they learn something horrible, don't send the good and righteous character rushing to correct their assumption. let Shouto be actually curious about what happened to the members of his family, let him learn their different perspectives! dont make the Todoroki Touya reveal into a singular event, an award for the readers who have been arguing about it for years. turn it into something that holds weight for the actual characters inside the story, a mystery, an investigation with the reveal being at the finishing line the characters themselves need to reach, not an inescapable event that will happen despite the characters' actions.

letting Dabi interact with the non-Enji Todorokis wouldn't have ruined the mystery, it would have given much more depth the all the characters, defined the actual drama they are going through, given them more individuality by allowing them to have different opinions on the situation instead of joining them into a Frankenstein mindless blob of 'family' taking their collective 'responsibility'.

make Dabi and Shouto's first meeting an uncomfortably long moment of staring, Dabi looking at Shouto with sad condescension, Shouto being visibly confused by the villain's loaded expression. make this about the characters themselves, and not about the readers being smart enough to connect the only villain with a flame quirk to the only family of flame quirk users.

let Natsuo and Dabi meet, make Dabi kill Hood for attacking his brother because his father was too late. make Natsuo question the villain's identity together with the readers, make him and Shouto join their efforts to unfold the mystery of what had happened to their older brother.

the question should never have been 'is Dabi Touya Todoroki?' asked by the author to his readers. it should have been 'what does Dabi being Touya Todoroki mean to the characters associated with him?'. and it should have been answered by the characters themselves.

[chirpsythismorning]

Fun fact: In the original pitch for Stranger Things, El had a little brother.

After being rejected by almost 20 studios for the Montauk pilot, the Duffers were finally green-lit by Netflix. It was at this time that they began casting and then writing the first season officially, which included reworking a lot of that first episode.

This led to the removal of the brother reference, and with it, removing any sort of arc El could have had about her apparent brother.

But the thing about this moment, is that it might not have been scrapped entirely...

Going into the final season, no one can explain why or how El recognized Will back in 1x02. And while there are plenty of things on the show that are left unexplained, with a small portion likely left that way with the intention to uncover it later, what sets this moment apart from the rest is that there are very few possibilities here.

Because for starters, the story presents El's ability to see people in the void in s1 as requiring either a picture of that person for reference, or having met that person before.

But when El see's this picture of Will, she's never met him before. Or maybe she has, but we wouldn't know because they never showed us. They could have just not done this scene at all, given that it's clearly a copy/paste/edit of something scrapped from the pitch. Or they could have even still included it, but explained it.

One explanation could be that the lab had shown El a picture of Will before, similar to what they did with the Russian agent they wanted to spy on. But then that begs to question, why would the lab show El a picture of Will? Why would they want to see what he was doing? That alone is incriminating in and of itself, implying that Will is more connected to the lab than we realize.

The only other, and frankly most likely explanation, would be that El stumbled across Will at some point on her journey between escaping the lab and Will going missing. This is actually something that happens in The Other Side comic, which explores all the things Will may have experienced during his time in the Upside Down.

Though it’s worth noting the comics aren’t technically canon, and I highly doubt they would outright spoil everything in relation to Will’s time there, years before it was intended to be revealed. But still, let's humor this for a moment given that I do think Will's time in the UD is going to be very relevant in s5, which means it's highly likely they will finally address how exactly El saw him.

Basically, in the comic, Will see’s El walking through the woods, almost apparition like, glowing as she passes by, while also sporting the Benny’s burgers shirt. This means they would have crossed passed within a short span of time, between when El escaped Benny’s when the agents arrived, but before she was found by the boys.

Though it’s worth noting that we’re seeing this all from Will’s perspective. This means from the UD, Will was capable of seeing El on the other side, despite them being on different sides. And not only that, but she also looks back at him.

What confuses me about this, is that it doesn’t make sense for El to be in the woods, only to randomly decide to pop in to the void for a moment. She was trying to escape the lab and everything that came with it. I doubt she had any desire to lurk back there for some reason, not until someone encouraged her to. Not to mention, it would make no sense for her to go there and see Will if she wasn't even looking for him in the first place. And so this would mean Will and El could see each other, with Will being in the UD, and El being on the other side.

While it does seem pretty far off, given that you would think Will and El wouldn't be able to see each other from different sides, it is true in the story that El not only recognizes Will, but knows that he is in danger. She mentions that he is hiding specifically.

Which means she has likely seen him within the last 24 hours regardless.

This, in combination with Will being able to respond to El in the void at the end of the season in Castle Byers, when no one else outside of Terry and flayed-Billy have been able to, seems to imply that there is indeed something special about Will that makes him capable of communicating with El from the UD. Not only that, but El also seems to have an ability to be in this constant knowing state of how Will is doing, without even checking again to confirm. She's just certain of it. And she seems terrified about it.

Going forward, El never uses a picture of Will to find him. She never did. And more often than not, they don’t show us what she see’s either, not until the very end. And that’s the moment they reveal that he was able to communicate with her.

Again, there was really no reason to have El recognize Will. If anything it complicates things. But the fact that they chose to introduce this concept, with a scene from the original pitch that was related to El’s younger brother, with her pointing at his name cryptically, startling Benny, only to revamp it and have El not say anything at all while pointing at the picture of Will, startling Mike… It just really makes you stop and think.

Which brings me to the other aspect of this that might have people doubting, which is that El’s brother was originally younger than her.

We know Will is not younger than El, so how could this apply to him?

Well, it might be helpful to consider that in the original script, El was actually 10 years old, while the boys were always 12. Meaning that for some reason, they decided to age her up to the age of the boys, aka the same age as Will…

Ever since @erikiara80 shared this brother discovery with me, I have been sort of reeling. It then led to other little discoveries of changes they made between Montauk and Stranger Things.

It’s important to understand that the Montauk bible and the original script precedes what we ended up with in the final product, with it finally changing and evolving months, maybe even a year since that original vision. Even casting occurred before writing started for the first season. We know this because casting announcements were made in June and August of 2015, with writing not starting until August going into early 2016, simultaneously while they were filming.

And believe it or not, what I've discovered is that a lot of the changes they made between their original plans and what we see in the final product, have to do with not only Willel, but also Byler.

If you've read the original script for Montauk, you'll know that Mike's crush on Jennifer Hayes was focused on right from the jump, along with the birthmark on his face being focused on, which was the main cause of the bullying he experienced.

This has actually been talked about recently, and some of the claims people make do fit with what I am genuinely starting to consider here, which is that the initial plan for what makes Mike an outcast shifted.

I think when they completed casting, and started actually deep diving into what they wanted this world to look like, both from a short-term and long-term standpoint, they were presented with some pretty interesting discoveries, arguably already hiding in their initial plans without realizing it.

And this is where it sort of becomes a 'chicken or the egg' situation. Because which one came first? Byler or Willel?

I can't say for certain, because obviously this is all just speculation. But in the case that Willel came first, I think Byler would come very naturally after that.

The Duffers themselves are twins. Then they hire Noah, who is a twin. Then they're thinking and planning for El's past and how her family all fits into this, and they're thinking... wait a damn minute... We could totally Star Wars this bitch!

And then when they think it couldn't get any better, they uncover another layer that they hadn't planned or really considered in their initial plans.

While Will was always going to have sexual identity issues according to the Montauk bible, meaning that the writing process for him likely involved sitting down imagining scenarios that encapsulated this arc for Will from the beginning, they were simultaneously now finding very interesting aspects of Mike's character that made it hard not to at least consider the possiblity that Mike is not exactly straight.

Just think about it. The Byers and Wheelers are basically polar opposites on the spectrum of what a family looks like. While Will's discovery and acceptance of his queerness is interesting to explore because he comes from a low-income, single-mom household, all while having been bullied for years based on his perceived queerness, he also has a mother and brother constantly reinforcing that they will accept him no matter what. They've been sort of hitting us over the head with it for years, and so it wouldn't be very satisfying for his entire arc to merely lead up to something we've known all along. It's pretty much a given at this point.

On the other side of the spectrum, Mike comes from a more upper-middle class family at the end of a cul-de-sac, more aligned with what a nuclear family looks like. Mike's family is also presented as being more conservative, and while Karen does give that very queer-coded speech to Mike in s1 (I'm convinced they only wrote this after deciding to explore queer-coding more heavily with Mike), it also comes with comments from Ted and even still Karen that hint that they are probably not as open-minded and accepting as Will's family is to him. Which means Mike's arc would be a lot more about acceptance around him from his loved ones who we have been led to believe might not be as accepting of his queerness in contrast to Will.

And so as they're putting this story together, and they're being presented with something very interesting. Two similar experiences that play out in different ways because of the characters circumstances.

Will goes missing, and his twin sister with a buzzcut pops up and has the ability to help them find Will.

This leads to several moments where El is being compared to as not only a boy, but Will as well.

Now suddenly, their initial plans to have Mike's arc be about having a girl be interested in him and to hopefully have his first kiss and feel like less of a loser, starts to look a lot like what the experience a queer kid in his position might encounter growing up in the environment that he did.

And if you don't want to take my word for it, just hear the Duffer's themselves hinting at what they initially planned for Mike and the fact that it changed.

The changes don't stop there.

Believe it or not, 'It was a seven', did not exist in the initial pitch. When the boys went outside bickering over Nancy, they leave right after that.

Another thing that changed from the first script, was Scott Clarke's introduction:

And so you might be thinking, who cares? What does that have to do with anything?

Well, it's interesting because the line we end up with on the show is arguably one of the most on the nose Twelvegate proofs to date. Mind you, this is from the first episode:

Why chuck the original version, which was arguably more interesting and fascinating in terms of it hinting at the mysteriousness surrounding this story, only to replace it with him listing off tips about their upcoming test?

Well, I think it's the irony of it all. Here Mr. Clarke is practically telling us where to look to figure stuff out for ourselves what is going on, with all the kids filing out and ignoring him...

I relate to Scott a litttle too much in this shot here, any time I try to drop Willel evidence.

And the changes go on, as they obviously would.

Things like Terry Ives not even being El's mom, but actually a man who more so aligns with the characterization of Murray.

And one very interesting one I almost overlooked was in Hopper's introduction, where instead of a kids drawing done by who we assume to be Sarah, we actually see a picture on the wall of him and his wife and daughter... Interesting that they decided to switch it something that is a lot less definitive in presenting what Hopper's past looked like...

If you've made it this far, congratulations.

If you still think I'm out of my mind, just remember that El was going to have a brother in the original script, but they scrapped the scene and gave a near identical one to introduce her connection to Will instead 😘

[mdhwrites]

Honestly I personally believe Sasha Waybright character arc was better written and engaging than Hunter and Amity’s arcs combined mostly because there was more agency in her arc and while the other two characters who go from enemies to allies to friends just didn’t engage me as much as Sasha’s.

I’m especially dissatisfied with Hunter and how his story while interesting wasn’t as cool as it could’ve been

So I've talked a lot about this in the past but the angle I'll take this time is simple: Sasha is more compelling as a villain to ally arc because the show let her be a villain.

That might sound simple but it's clearly something TOH itself struggled with. One could argue that ALL of the redemptions in TOH follow a pattern of one bad action followed by them being tenuously on the same side and then on the same side. Amity is out of character for her first episode and then Luz is actually at fault for Covention, even if Amity takes it too far. Then Amity is weirdly antagonistic during Hooty's Moving Hassle and then NEVER AGAIN. Three episodes into knowing her and she is now the person we are supposed to sympathize and want around and her biggest crime feels entirely out of character for the rest of her portrayal.

Hunter is similar. His first appearance is not Hunter. It's the Golden Guard who is WAY more fun a character than Hunter ever was and kind of a bastard. Then the mask is removed in his second real appearance (not counting the stinger in Escaping Expulsion) and he is someone to start sympathizing and working with. He is the sad but mad boy by his third major appearance and his second appearance makes him somewhat sympathetic, just like Covention did for Amity... Or For the Future does for The Collector despite lines like "I can't wait to play amongst the bones!" in Hollow Mind that feel, drumroll please, OUT OF CHARACTER TO THE REST OF HIS WRITING!

Lilith is the only to subvert this... Kind of. No, they actually go out of order but still the same essentially with her. Her first appearance makes her sympathetic and not properly a threat because she's still willing to play ball with Eda for a one on one competition, then she spends the second half of S1 just palling around in shenanigans she should not be allowing but is because... Fuck you. Then we get her one truly evil action in kidnapping Luz, coupled also with having been the one to curse Eda but that's also used to show she's a good person now so the kidnapping is the bigger deal here. Then... She's just a good guy afterwards.

This all makes for the most shallow, bullshit uses of this trope I think you can do while being allowed to claim you did it. After all, a key point to all of these redemptions aren't "Then they sided with the good guys," it's just "Then they're a good person." They don't bring who they were as a villain with them. The strengths that led to their villainy are just gone and they're hard to say what they were in the first place, what they add to the narrative in their redemption and joining of the main party because who were they before they joined. What are they actually fighting against as a person instead of just deciding not to be evil anymore or wanting the cookies that the light side offers?

It'd be like if after Sasha was redeemed, she was as bad as Anne at being able to lead and use people. If the show went "To better erase all the crimes she's done, not only will we say Sasha only is a bad person because her father is Ultra Satan but also she now is entirely incompetent in what she was good at before." Amity loses her intelligence. Her plans are always the most straightforward after she starts getting a crush on Luz and she canonically started having her grades slip. Hunter is the most pathetic character in the main cast with I think zero wins in his belt besides his first appearance despite being the only one with combat training. Lilith is just... Sad in how much they reduce all she was for over forty years of her life to go "Now she's a silly nerd girl. Fuck ambition."

And, of course, their bad sides being blamed on mother, uncle, mother kind of for Lilith actually, just that the exposition for that comes after her redemption, and the Archivists and Belos for the Collector. They aren't bad people, they just were forced to spend time with the wrong people. Now that they're nerds and led by nerd Jesus, everything is okay.

There is a VEEERY real problem in TOH of Us vs. Them mentality that comes from these arcs that's really gross. Swap Luz to a white, male jock and suddenly the show becomes WAY MORE UNCOMFORTABLE!

Sasha dodges all of this because no one tries to excuse Sasha. Sasha never tries to pretend she's anyone other than who she is except for when she's explicitly putting on an act. This means everything compelling and good about her as a villain can cleanly transition to when she is a hero, even if it's hard to believe that which the show even calls out.

There is no Sasha's Angels in TOH. That might be a weird one to reference to you because it doesn't include much Sasha but it nails on the head what makes this trope so exciting. To Anne, Sasha letting others do the work while she gets to theoretically kick back looks like the same old Sasha that she now is suspicious of. Someone who is self serving and so Anne lashes out. However, it's not the case. Sasha's ability to manipulate always came from being able to read a person's weaknesses and strengths. She's a MUCH better manipulator than Belos in this way because she doesn't leverage on you or for you to already be siding with her. She can read you like a book and tear apart your pages until she plays with your spine. And as a hero, that's going to mean she's a great delegator. She's the sort who would go "Nah, we don't need to save them from what you see as certain doom. I know he can deal with it." And she's right. Not because of blind faith but because of the same skills that made her villainous.

Something that wouldn't hit nearly as hard, or feel reasonable on Anne's part, if we didn't get so many examples of this being who Sasha is. Of the fact that Sasha uses other people for her own means. And even now, you can claim the same... Except it's not for her means. It's for their needs.

It actually is part of what makes her becoming a therapist so pitch perfect. A good therapist can call you out when you're trying to hide behind something to not get to the core of your problems. They can catch what is at the root of your issues even as you don't see it yourself. They also can see your value and use your strengths to help combat those problems after helping you identify them. It's actually pretty close to how she tried to get out of Toad Tower in her first appearance. Bring in someone, earn their trust, use their passions against their weaknesses and make them better. The only difference is that now she cares about making them better.

Amity, Hunter and Lilith could never have such a satisfying future because again: What are their strengths? Hell, post redemption, that statement stands true. You can call Amity good at magic I guess but Hunter and Lilith are pathetic people who kind of luck out in being useful at times and that's really it. These aren't people who have anything going for them. They're as good as goons with one of them being an elite in a one off episode as far as villain forces go and that's not very compelling for a redemption of this sort. Not unless you're really going to get into that and A: Lilith was one of the strongest mages on the Isles and studied her ass off so you'd think she'd mocked less for sucking at her job and being a fucking moron and B: they didn't even try for half a second with Hunter who I don't really know if they intended to make look as pathetic as he did skill wise.

So their futures are just random factoids introduced during the story. Does Amity being an inventor say anything about her redemption? No. In fact, it really sucks because Odalia would have LOVED her daughter to follow in her father's footsteps because that's the most profitable option for their company. Good job show. Hunter just takes up the job that connects him with the only thing we know is explicitly Caleb related, no conjecture needed, which sucks for a character who was supposed to be his own person. Then Lilith is... A historian. Because she likes that I guess. Does that have anything to do with her time as the coven head? No. Her ambitions? GOD NO. It's just a random choice that puts her in line with the inoffensively nerdy cast.

And before ANYONE says anything about the shortening, I want to say I've done a blog comparing the fact that Amity, in S2A (so before the shortening) has as many appearances as Sasha does in Sasha's entire redemption arc. You didn't need more time to do this better, the show needed to actually commit to its concepts. Actually needed to be willing to do its tropes rather than slapping it on for marketability and to make lazy analysts happy.

Because enemies to allies is not one of those tropes you can half ass. Not unless you want none of its power and boy, these are some weak character arcs. At least we've got Sasha.

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I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

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