#tell me your thoughts - share your interpretation!

[whateverisbeautiful]

Would love your thoughts on Sasha’s 5b assertion to Michonne, “you can’t help me. It worked out for you.” There is so much left unsaid and as you noted the actors killed the scene. I’d love to hear you unpack what was implied based on what Sasha (and others in TF) witnessed and how Michonne could have interpreted that pushback as she genuinely offered support and empathy. It still took some time for Michonne to “work up to” confronting her feelings about Rick. What do you think her initial response was to Sasha?

Thanks for asking! That was such a well-acted scene. And I wrote my thoughts below ⬇️💗:

I definitely think Sasha’s line about it working out for Michonne was Sasha acknowledging the family Michonne found with the Grimes. Once team family had all reunited after Terminus, I imagine that most of the group could tell that Rick and Michonne were different. Like they were always visibly fond of each other at the prison but by the time they were back with TF in s5 I think it was clear to everyone around them that whatever happened post-prison made Rick and Michonne family on a deeper level.

And I’d bet some of the more observant among them could even tell that Rick and Michonne loved each other on a deeper level as well. Some characters who I think probably peeped the Richonne love that was stirring ahead of time are Glenn, Sasha, Abe, and as many of us often say - Daryl been knew there was something between Rick and Michonne. ��� Rick and Michonne had several Richonne bubble moments in front of the group - like their exchanges in that barn and their first night in ASZ so I think those are moments that definitely let Sasha know it worked out for Michonne in a way that it didn’t for her and Bob. 

It makes sense that Sasha would address it the way she did in saying that it worked out for Michonne because for Sasha, she lost two of her closest people on the road - Bob & Tyrese. And so while she still has people who love her it’s different than having your closest family with you. So when Sasha looks at Michonne she sees someone who doesn’t just have a general sense of family but her own personal family in Rick, Carl, and Judith. It worked out for her that the ones she loves most and who love her most are alive. 

Regarding Michonne’s response to Sasha saying that - Michonne's expression makes me interpret that Sasha’s words make her think and re-angle her perspective. As she shared, she’d been feeling asleep in ASZ and restless at the same time (which I really do think an element of the restlessness was connected to that “you’re okay, I’m okay” thing she has with Rick, so him really not being okay during this time had her feeling off as well).

If I remember correctly, Rosita noted how Michonne seemed to be wrestling with the fact that they found something. And that pull between being out there fighting the fight and living a domestic life of normalcy within safe walls has always been something Michonne has had to actively process and navigate. So I think she’d had so much on her mind with this adjustment to ASZ that hearing Sasha say it’s basically already worked out for her gave her pause and also got her to think about what she has from the outside looking in. A whole family.

Especially because Sasha probably doesn’t know of the family Michonne lost. So in Sasha's eyes, Michonne gained so much more than she has. I don’t think Michonne took it personally when Sasha pushed her away at that moment because Michonne would understand that Sasha’s frustration wasn’t with her at all. I think she still responded to her with empathy after that and probably maintained hope that just like she gained a personal family after losing one, Sasha could (and would) too one day.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s4 episode 5 thoughts

i’m back. i’m back and i’m intrigued. because i'm reading the episode description, and if we get more mulder ex lore here, which the episode description makes it sound like we will, i am… not sure how i will feel on the subject. the term “reincarnation” makes it sound like whoever it was… died. did an ex of his die? and that is a lot of mulder marked by pain and suffering. and maybe i’m getting ahead of myself. but the writers KNOW we want our agents to smooch, so focusing on an ex might make me, the viewer, feel weird. i just need to get all these thoughts out in writing before we begin.

how is he gonna tell if someone is a reincarnated lover? or am i misunderstanding this entirely. 

only one way to find out

author’s note: oh my gosh…… nothing could have prepared me for this. at all. here i was thinking it was ex lore time, but it was past life time, and there are TEARS in my eyes.

(serious author's note: i ask for some grace in this episode recap. there may be some things i word poorly. i am familiar with the terminology used to describe DID, and did my best, but acknowledge that i may have come up short. please understand that this is intended to capture my live reactions to what i was seeing for the very first time. at times here, there are no reactions, just a sort of a nebulous recapping of what i saw because i was feeling So Many Things. so this one might be messy, and i hope that is okay. i don't understand what i am feeling, but i am feeling a Lot of it, and humbly ask for your patience in my clumsy wording as well as some helpful discussion on what just went down)

let us begin, i type as i sniff up some tears

we open with mulder in a field… is he reciting poetry? and looking very sad. 

wait, is he not actually reciting poetry and he just talks like that? while holding two pictures of old timey people. i’d guess civil war era.

okay. so now we jump right to the intro. that was quick. i’m still processing what we just saw because we were really dropped into that one with no context whatsoever.

federal agents break into a temple in tennessee. they’re looking for illegal firearms! and a guy named ephesian.

but mulder sees a window… and he is staring at it… walking out the door as if led by some sort of spiritual quest while scully yells his name and wonders wtf he’s doing. he is not responding to her at all, but she’s chasing after him because she is a good friend.

so he’s hearing things while scully is pulling her gun out, and it does appear that he found a trapdoor!

he busts in, and slaps some poison out of the hand of a woman who was taking sips, and then grabs the dude who i assume is the cult leader. whew… that was close

now they’re at some sort of meeting, listening to tapes, and skinner is here!!! hiiii skinner. everybody say hi skinner!

so, someone on the tape seems to be whistleblowing on this cult- the seven stars or something- saying that the leader is hurting children and stockpiling weapons. mulder looks incredibly pensive during all of this.

oh! someone refers to mulder as “our man spooky”, which is kind of hilarious, while complaining that the reports were weak. scully leans in and asks yeah, how did he know that? while the men are fighting.

and skinner yells KNOCK IT OFF!!!! because the folks at the compound were somehow able to hide all the evidence before they got there, and now they’re forced to hold ephesian and “his wives” on “BS charges”. so now the agents MUST find evidence of firearms and who the informant was NOW because they will try to get an arraignment fast.

woah. no pressure.

skinner comes over talk to mulder and scully- they must look into this ephesian fellow's claims of supernatural abilities. scully says he can use the book of revelations to manipulate his followers, but seems to suspect no real powers. 

they to talk to this ephesian fellow, who says he knew for 9 centuries that scully was coming, and starts going on about the bible, quoting stuff. very scary behavior.

mulder comes in with the fact check. jesus said that at smyrna, not about some church in tennessee! (his knowledge…. it always impresses me)

this dude is being super creepy, telling them to put aside their investigation “for your own souls”, because soon all unfaithful shall “be destroyed by God’s mighty men”. so this is some pretty standard cult rhetoric here. if you've studied religions, you've heard this one many times. it seems that ephesian thinks he and his people shall be the ones doing this violence. a tight zoom in on mulder’s troubled face as he quotes more scripture.

they have 6 wives to question, and mulder says to start with one in particular. interesting… i wonder why that one. is it because she was the one they caught ephesian with in the hidden area... or something more?

her name is melissa, and she says she’s 25 as she smokes a cigarette and dodges their questions. she’s been at the compound and married to ephesian for a year. 

mulder asks if it troubles her that ephesian has so many other wives, and she just recites scripture instead of answering. so scully comes in with the “i’d have a tough time if my husband had so many children with other women”. this seems to begin to get her to crack, as she tears up.

wait... it’s so wrong to hear scully call someone else, who isn't her sister, melissa :(

melissa she doesn’t have any children with ephesian yet... because he has to wait for God to tell him that the right soul is ready to be reincarnated, which is why his children are the most sacred members of the temple. naturally, of course /s

things get quiet when they ask if he had been hurting the children until melissa starts talking with a very different voice and set of mannerisms, and she no longer replies to the name melissa. so scully scrawls “multiple personality” in her loopy handwriting and passes it over to mulder. oh! is this sydney?

(at this point, i shall begin to refer to sydney with he/him pronouns, as this is what mulder does. normally i would stick to my journalistic integrity and keep reporting the things i wrote down incorrectly while watching the episode, but i'm trying to be very respectful- i hope you understand)

but mulder writes back to scully no, this is not a multiple personality case, it's a past life case! his handwriting is very blocky. to prove his point, he asks sydney who the current president is, and he responds that it is harry truman. ah. so, he's a few years off.

mulder claims that “somehow he just knew” sydney was melissa's past life, which doesn’t reveal a lot, but his eyes are very soulful and i want to hold his hand.

skinner says they need to find something to get this case moving forward, and mulder is like dude, we found sydney, the voice matched! i would agree with his judgement that this in fact a sizeable discovery.

mulder is saying that what they have seen matches the criteria of DID in the DSM4 (woah, need to look up when we switched to 5), but scully is saying that some people don’t even think it exists as a condition, and skinner thinks it could be a trap to buy more time for ephesian. so no one is in agreement here.

but mulder is going into his psychology expert mode and is making a very compelling case that this is an example of DID, particularly in the fact that sydney emerged when the topic of child abuse came up, which fulfilled the protector role. scully wants to know more before giving any sort of diagnosis, but she doesn't seem opposed to the hypothesis.

(skinner seems to fumble over which pronouns to use for each personality here)

skinner says to go ahead and take her back to the compound and see if it gets any results in prompting memories that could be useful to the investigation, but scully is mad at mulder! he didn’t even have the courage to tell skinner he thinks they're dealing with past lives here! mulder, who is usually so brave!!

he mumbles that skinner wouldn’t believe him. which is true.

woah, i don’t know how to interpret this line here, so i’ll just write it down for further analysis:

“i don’t believe that you feel responsible for those 50 lives. or melissa reidel. you are only responsible to yourself, mulder”

(is she saying he doesn’t care about those 50 people?? is she saying he has an ulterior motive? is she calling him a liar, and that he is using this case to gain support for his supernatural ideas?? is she calling him selfish? or is she trying to tell him that he can only be responsible for himself and control his own actions, that he cannot place the burden of saving everyone upon his shoulders? is she berating or reassuring him or both? does she think he isn't serious about the lives in danger?)

i can’t figure it out, but he gets up and leaves. (after watching the episode, i still can't figure it out- what did you think?)

so they take melissa back to the temple, and scully asks her to recall the painful memories so they can keep herself and others safe. it is very tense as she walks into a bedroom and sees many photos on the wall of ephesian and his wives. she knocks some of them over and starts crying.

scully still looks furious with mulder. it's as if she thinks his desire for supernatural entities to be proven comes ahead of his desire to save actual lives, and it's recalling her comparison to ahab during the conversation on the rock. she must feel that there is no time for this, that they need to get concrete answers right away or horrible things will happen; perhaps she thinks he isn't focused, is being fanciful. and i understand the pressure of a ticking clock, but after so long, this rift between them, it doesn't feel right.

oh my goodness, we see some horrific artwork on the wall by the kids at the temple. woah. shoutout to the set design team.

melissa is in the playroom sobbing, but asks why she is being called melissa. scully asks what she should call her, and that is how we meet lily. but lily isn’t there for very long before sydney comes back, saying to “leave the kid alone”. mulder says they can all be safe if they just are told where the guns are. then melissa seems to come back, and she goes back out the window where mulder was staring earlier!!! what does this window know?!?

and the score here is really pretty as she walks outside, scully following behind her. mulder is clearly unwell, though, and scully asks what is wrong, which he ignores and walks past her. typical him.

a new alter of melissa's seems to front, now with a southern accent, saying the guns are in a bunker. but… it’s the civil war she’s talking about. she was a nurse, looking for someone who was staying in tennessee. and she found that someone here, dead. then she was hidden in a bunker while the battle raged above her. it is very horrific, what she is describing.

she clarifies that she was there in november 1863, then turns to mulder and says “as were you”. he doesn’t seem shocked by this, but scully is, as this new southern belle proclaims “this is the field where i watched you die” OH!

(mulder, a confederate in a past life… this is deeply unfortunate)

mulder is trying to make a phone call to a hypnotist while they drive melissa back to the police station, but scully figures out he’s trying to do past life regression on her and says not to. and that her life is in shreds, and that is too much for her to handle. i hate to say it, but i agree with her. melissa has been through so much, and with such a tight deadline, i don't know if they have time for such a journey.

OH! mulder is angry. his voice is all growly as he yells “YOU WERE THERE, SCULLY! you saw it, you heard it, why can’t you feel it?” oh my gosh… the way he slammed his hand on the wheel... why can't she see it, it seems so obvious to him... how infuriating it must be...

scully asks why ephesian is a paranoid sociopath for claiming to be in greece years ago, but he isn’t for claiming to have died in that field……. damn…….

(idk what’s going on here between them exactly but i’m stressed. they are stressing me out)

(at this point, we begin a sequence in which i am so enraptured with what is going on, i have no reactions to all of the things i am seeing, and just recount them to you, with occasional interjections of "oh my god"- but i think if you've seen the episode, you get why it had this effect on me)

so they do get a therapist, who is talking to melissa. she begins to answer the therapist's questions about seeing anything upsetting at the compound, talking about a woman named elizabeth and her son scott, who came to live in the temple. and ephesian took the son away. but ephesian caught his mother visiting her son, and “the mighty men” beat her, which brings melissa to tears as she recounts this. and he hit the boy, calling him garbage, beating him.

scully looks very stressed in the background to hear all of this, but sydney is now fronting at this point, saying to leave melissa alone, and that the guns are in the bunkers… somewhere. where they are is a mystery, though.

scully leans down to mulder and says that maybe there is a map somewhere, but mulder says she knows where to find them. and at this she says “mulder…” in a very breathy fashion and i still can’t quite articulate what is going on between them…. but he’s going in.

he says it’s me, melissa, and asks her to go back to the field. “your eyes may have changed shade, but it cannot color the soul behind them”, she says. that they are only to meet in passing in this life. and she misses him. he just stared and stares, before his head falls into his hands

scully is trying to explain to him that this is a product of melissa's illness, and she can’t give any specifics- no names or locations, and they don’t have time to do this, because ephesian’s arraignment is in two hours.

“wouldn’t you, scully? wouldn’t anybody?” <- oh my god…. is he compelled by a terrible sense of duty or by his own curiosity? is she scared to watch him go down this path he cannot return from?

okay, so now he is going back into his past lives. this sequence is almost entirely a close up of his face, for minutes on end, which adds to the intensity. he's really panting as he remembers. “ghetto streets. shattered glass. bodies of the dead. a jewish woman. poland.” oh my god…… 

he says that he is samantha’s mother in this life; “in this life, she is my son”

his father is dead, and… HIS FATHER IS SCULLY? WHAT? i didn’t see that coming. she’s troubled by this, all of this, not just learning he believes her soul to have been his father before.

but he says that his father is waiting now for their souls to come back together, different, but always together, again and again, to learn.

and he is crying. he can’t go to his father. a gestapo man is there, and he is cancer man; “evil returns as evil, but love… souls mate eternal”. and his wife is melissa, who is taken away to the camps. and he’s crying, and scully is watching with great concern.

now, he’s rising above the field, near the bunker. and his sergeant is also dead, and “he is scully”, and we cut to her face of increasing sadness. sarah holds him, who is melissa. she is sarah kavanaugh, and he is sullivan biddle. she doesn’t know that he’s waiting for her, that they will live again. 

scully tries to ask if he sees any bunkers, but he keeps saying his soul is tired, and he wants to rest.

and this is devastating. it was if i was the one undergoing the hypnosis here. i couldn't look away, i couldn't react, i was so entirely absorbed and confused and busy feeling things.

scully is consulting a map in the town records to try and find this bunker where the weapons are stored, and then she looks up the names he mentioned. sure enough, they are in the county records. then she reaches for some photos, where she finds one of sullivan and sarah. 

a lot of things are being processed in her brain, so we might need to give her a minute. i think we can see some long-held systems of belief being challenged in her mind.

but she brings him back the photos of their past lives, even as she is telling him that ephesian is going to be released soon. why would she do this? to comfort him? to validate him without using words?

oh my god, mulder just called her “dana”. wait. hold on. oh my god, hold on.

“dana, if, um… early in the four years we’ve been working together… an event occurred that suggested or somebody told you that… we’d been friends together in other lifetimes- always- wouldn’t it have changed some of the ways we looked at one another?”

“even if i knew for certain, i wouldn’t change a day”

WAUGHHHHHHHH (ripping my clothes off in grief) WAOUGHHHHHH wouavhhhghhhh……… she wouldn’t change a day….

(and what event was it that he is referring to? is there a certain one...? am i forgetting something from early s1...? damn you, my obsessive note-taking impulses, for not kicking into gear until s2...)

“well… maybe that flukeman thing, i could have lived without that just fine” HDHJSNSME he smiles as she leaves….

(i had to google what that even was because i was like ??? but the flukeman was the season 2 sewer baby!!! for those of you who are going into this whole thing blind and also don't know what the fandom calls stuff! i think to me he was "baby sewer mermaid" or something along those lines... but now we know)

so now he and melissa are in the room together, trying to recall. she says she wants to believe (!!!), and he’s rubbing her hand, but ephesian comes in, saying it’s time to leave. so she rips the photo in half and leaves crying. 

does he know he was supposed to love her? is he mourning that he hasn't? is he wondering if he has time to?

mulder gets up, and leans his head against the wall. scully comes in to say that they are still searching for more bunkers as the temple people return to their home. there is a deep sense of grief.

ephesian seems suspicious. 

mulder is talking to skinner, saying that those in the temple believe that the FBI are the devil’s army, prophesied to be defeated by the armies of god. but ephesian must not really believe that, because he hid the weapons. mulder emphasizes that he may “deny himself”.

back at the compound, all the members are being called to worship. the music is getting scary, and guns are being pulled out. 

scully looks up some bible verses and realizes that ephesian is calling his members to the end of times, which gives skinner the go ahead to launch a raid.

back at the compound, the poison is being distributed to the members of the temple. and a few are shooting at the agents outside, and mulder and scully pull up as the sipping of the poison begins inside. 

NO! mulder puts his hands up and begins to walk into the compound!!!!! WHAT IS HE DOING!!! scully shouts out that he is dead. as we see inside there are piles and piles of bodies, including melissa.

but wait! is she still alive???? she’s getting up!!! 

but no! ephesian is still there watching her. giving her poison to take. mulder is running in as fast as he can, trying to figure out what is going on. and he finds the room full of the bodies while gregorian chanting is in the background. 

he finds melissa, with no pulse, holding onto the photo she had torn. 

scully sees him touching her arm, raising his eyes and crying. 

we end where we began, with him in the field, holding the pictures of his and melissa’s past lives. 

end episode. 

what…..

first thoughts: i don’t quite know what to make of this, but i can tell it is going to tear me apart for the rest of my life.

second and third thoughts are also variations of my first thought.

i feel so sad? to know that mulder has (or thinks he has) lived these horrific past lives, and that he is reunited with the same people over and over again, to learn and lose them. and that scully was there with all of them- but so was melissa, and he said that soulmates are eternal, so if that is true he lost his for this life. and he said he was so tired, so tired... how can he escape the eternal cycle of samsara?

and scully, watching all of this- what did she mean when she said that he wasn't responsible for anything but himself? was it an insult? was she begging him? what was she feeling when she heard him talk about her being there in his past? was she trying to hurt him in their conversation in the car? will they ever actually be able to see eye to eye? does she believe him? can she? how does hearing all of this shake her own faith?

can you have many soulmates that come with you again and again, just in different forms? so would his soulmates be scully, and his mother and father and sister, and this melissa figure? and what are the implications of losing a soulmate in this world? is that a life of feeling that something is missing, until death? do they shuffle roles, but come again and again? is that comforting or horrific? are we to believe him?

and that terrible, terrible ending, him finding the bodies... how are we supposed to interpret that? just more grief on top of already endless grief? or are we supposed to see the poetry moment as an answer to a question that provides relief, even if it is bittersweet?

why did he want to know so badly? was he driven by duty to save? duty to find the Truth? duty to protect his loved ones and seek cosmic answers? are these separate things, or are they all intertwined in him?

i'm... really going to have to think this one over. i would really appreciate hearing your thoughts, as well. i wish i had a solid interpretation. it was very serious and sad, and it was bittersweet but filled with grief. i once again echo my earlier request for fluff. but how do you go back to the way things were once he says she was with him in every life? how does scully rationalize that? what are they to each other?

i'm pondering. it feels like something has shifted. and you can't go back now, even if i can't pinpoint what it is that changed.

i want to go back to daydreaming about apple cider dates. but it feels like you can't, you know? huh.

[winchesterhymns]

Evil Angel by Breaking Benjamin

Dean's verse

Dare I say that Sam is Dean's religion and after he leaves him to start his own life at uni, all Dean can ask for is that his babyboy won't forget him... In a way, Dean is glad Sam left and is safe and trying to live a life that Dean couldn't, but, God, the pain of having the only person you truly love put you behind and only refer to you in the past tense, only ever as a memory? That's pain that Dean isn't too sure he can withstand.

But ofc he tries his best to stay together, to be stable enough for his dad to depend on him, yet he always feels inadequate without Sammy there to idolize him.

Dean lives for the applause (except Sam is the only one clapping).

Dean was Sam's guidance but now Sam is searching for a new life, a better life. A life that doesn't involve his big brother... Dean can't help it if his love for Sam is all-consuming like a,, cancer.

Sam's verse

Can I speak my truth about Sam worshipping God with all his might but somewhere deep down he feels like he's betraying his brother, his hero.

Sam made friends only to appear normal, he enjoyed it ofc – the human connection, but in the end he never really felt at home or like he truly fit in. He was always out of place. And so in a way he felt like he was betraying Jess as well by being with her but always yearning for Dean, his real home, to be at his side.

Basically he lives in misery because no matter his choices, he always feels like he's betraying someone close to him.

Those years at Stanford he would sit at his bedside and pray to God to give him the strength to not go back to Dean and the life his family calls ordinary.

Bonus!

When you beg death to take you because your brother died and without him you'd run out of oxygen like a flame in a bubble

“Why can't I breathe, evil angel?” He asked, clutching at his chest, wheezing over his brothers unmoving body.

[pinkfey]

was going to say this yesterday but lord forgive me all of a sudden i think max and warren are cute ://

[todayisafridaynight]

Throwing in fun (not fun) facts to contribute esp bc I was tagged in the essay: (Sorry in advance this is literally my career and special interest AND I just got back from a training conference about this SO obv I am going to talk too much. Disclosure: These statistics are from peer-reviewed sources AND the National Children's Alliance. The NCA IS an American association, though, so take this all with a grain of salt bc we're applying it to someone whose bg is not American lmao. This is an essay for funsies. CW: discussion of and stats about CSA, Child Abuse) Relevant to the Jo stuff is also that victims of one/any kind of abuse are statistically much more likely to subsequently face overlapping abuse, so knowing he comes from a home where abuse and potential neglect was actively occurring sets Jo-boy up for some sad statistics. I am looking for my notes on the stats for that but it's something stupid high, I wanna say over 30 or 40%.

Additionally, 47%~ of CSA victims are revictimized. Abysmal statistic but mostly just an interesting note if this IS the case/if we choose to interpret Jo this way bc of the other things mentioned in Masu's ask, specifically if we're viewing his unhealthy and ultimately traumatic relationship with Ikumi as a potential example of that revictimization (similarly, coming from a like background, it may have been revictimizing for Ikumi if she had ever experienced something like CSA, as well. It's one of those cases where they both got hurt even if neither of them were at fault for "playing house" as Jo calls it).

Seconding/Adding on to Masu's thoughts about Jo's behavior being as self-destructive as it is because of the compounded trauma of his life, victims of adolescent abuse "engage in health-risk behaviors such as substance use, physical fighting, and risky sexual activity," in far higher numbers than non-victims. We know for facts that adolescent Jo checks at least 2 of those 3 boxes, and that he still puts himself in unnecessary danger as a full grown adult (the Heian Tower fight, and Hoshino's Office fight): An interesting and well-written cycle of trauma and abuse on RGGs part, tbh, but also so narratively telling about how he saw/sees/continues to see himself as more an object than a person. (Love your notes on that btw, it rings very true. I could write an essay on that alone tbh.)

Another weird little thing I notice from both a Doyalist AND Watsonian perspective: Jo's disclosure of his father's abuse would classify as what we call an "accidental disclosure" in the field even though it's clearly intentional that he shares it with Ichi - it's offhanded and markedly unimportant in the story he's telling. He says it passively in a literary sense, as well: "The only thing waiting for me at home was my father's fists." Like homie, that's the most roundabout way you could have said "My dad beat me." Interestingly, up to 50% of [specifically CSA] victims do not state outright that abuse occurs, but disclose it accidentally/offhandedly; and in general, accidental disclosure is more common among people who have also delayed disclosure. Up to 66% of admissions from victims of child abuse come delayed if they come at all.

I think it's a very in-character remark of him to make, but statistically, it lines up with other victims of abuse as a whole. I think it's also just cool that from the Doyalist perspective, writing his lines in this way was intentional. It's part of the whole "Everything Jo says sounds like it could mean more than one thing" thing. He speaks poetically - it's intentional not just for the character but for the writer.

Okay, I'm done for now I'm sorry I just wanted to throw some added stuff into the convo bc I love applying my everyday usage of adolescent-focused trauma care and pysch shit to blorbos and seeing what sticks. Anyway, I also have a shit ton of thoughts on Masumi Arakawa as an abuse survivor but THATS another essay I won't dig into now. If I am still in your good graces after this long ass spiel I will consider it not only amazing but perhaps even cool as hell.

[ continuity of this ask ]

[forehead451]

stream of consciousness type deal.

[libraford]

It is possible to interact with people whom share opposing views and no this is not about pineapple on pizza. In fact, it is imperative that you learn how to be civil with some people who you may find difficult to agree with.

At work, Youngin would often tell me that the guy that trained him (Ginger) was a misogynist. I had never met Ginger, and I had very little to say on this matter. But I would ask Youngin some questions about him because I like to know the other seasonal workers a little. I ask about Ginger- first words from Youngin's mouth 'he's a misogynist.'

I asked him why he thought that. (There are many misogynists at this location, as someone that is woman-shaped I see it often, I am comparing notes.)

"We were on our way to a location and a driver was going really slowly. When he got around her he said 'fucking women drivers.' Like he was going out of his way to prove that the driver was a woman."

The last month or so, Youngin worked exclusively with me because I knew that it was a matter of time before he said something that pissed off one of the guys. He was not going to get along with people here, it just wasn't happening.

When he left, everyone wanted to know what he was like to work with. And I finally got to have a conversation with Ginger.

"I'd like to ask you something a little strange- he said that on his first day there was an issue with a driver going slowly. Can you tell me about that?"

"Oh yeah! She was going super slow and when I got around her I said 'yup- little old lady driving.' And he was like 'what's that supposed to mean?' And I just kind of dropped it, but I hear he was saying I was a misogynist over it?"

So I give Youngin some grace because he's young, he's got a social bubble that's very liberal, he has not met very many people that weren't part of that kind of scene. But he often talked about how every person here has said something that pissed him off and he seemed really surprised that I (woman-shaped queer liberal) would be okay working with all these sexist homophobes.

And I give grace to Ginger because he had no reason to think that his words would be interpreted like that. What he was saying was normal to him. This is... somewhat the culture of landscaping jobs. And its not even close to the worst thing I've heard out of these dudes mouths. (Literally had one of the dudes comment that he would like to 'motorboat' one of the pedestrians.)

It was weird for Youngin to carry that with him for the whole two months that he worked here, over a very... small comment.

Every single person I've worked with here has said something that has given me pause and I tuck it away to rant about later and then I let it go. If it gets out of hand, I talk to one of the bosses about it. I know how to contact HR. I came into this place knowing that I was going to disagree politically with most of the people that I work with because I'm coming in to a culture that is fundamentally different from my own.

If I am being frank, I find the overt bigotry somewhat better than the corporate bullshit of 'we value your contributions, but won't be granting your accommodations request out of fairness to other workers' or the glass cliff or literally being fired for my sexual orientation but phrased with 'oh you just weren't a good fit for the culture here.' I at least know what I'm getting into when I come to work. I know what not to talk about. Last time I thought I was safe to talk about something queer with my boss she blindsided me with some transphobic garbage.

Its admirable to stick up for the marginalized people in your life, but part of changing minds is knowing the time and the place to comment. I think I've changed more minds at this warehouse by being a visibly out lesbian at work than I have by making carefully crafted speeches.

That is fine. It is fine to disagree. Sometimes you have to work with racists, homophobes, and assholes. That is part of being an adult. You talk about things like... sports or TV or weather or some cool bug you saw. Finding common ground with people who are different from you in many ways is an important part of socialization and it sucks to think you have anything in common with a jackass but look- you're spending 7-ish hours with these people and at some point some of them are going to say stupid shit. You are going to say stupid shit also. I have said my fair share of stupid shit. Deal with the fact that you're all stupid shits.

And for fuck's sake, wear your hardhat.

[maniculum]

Medieval Scorpions Effortpost

So yesterday I reblogged this post featuring an 11th-century depiction of the Apocalypse Locusts from Revelations, noting the following incongruity as another medieval scorpion issue:

The artist, as you can see, has interpreted "tails like scorpions" as meaning "glue cheerful-looking snakes to their butts".

Anyway, it occurred to me that the medieval scorpion thing might not be as widely known as I think it is, and that Tumblr would probably enjoy knowing about it if it isn't known already. So, finding myself unable to focus on the research I'm supposed to be doing, I decided to write about this instead. I'll just go ahead and put a cut here.

As we can see in the image above, at least one artist out there thought a "scorpion" was a type of snake. Which makes it difficult to draw "tails like scorpions", because a snake's tail is not that distinctive or menacing (maybe rattlesnakes, but they don't have those outside the Americas). So they interpreted "tails like scorpions" as "the tail looks like a whole snake complete with head".

Let me tell you. This is not a problem unique to this illustration.

See, people throughout medieval Europe were aware of scorpions. As just alluded to, they are mentioned in the Bible, and if the people producing manuscripts in medieval Europe knew one thing, it was Stuff In Bible. They're also in the Zodiac, which medieval Europe had inherited through classical sources. However, let's take a look at this map:

That's Wikipedia's map of the native range of the Scorpiones order, i.e., all scorpion species. You may notice something -- the range just stops at a certain northern latitude. Pretty much all of northern Europe is scorpion-free. If you lived in the north half of Europe, odds were good you had never seen a scorpion in your life. But if you were literate or educated at all, or you knew they were a thing, because you'd almost certainly run across them being mentioned in texts from farther south. And those texts wouldn't bother to explain what a scorpion was, of course -- everyone knows scorpions, right? When was the last time you stopped to explain What Is Spiders?

So medieval writers and artists in northern Europe were kind of stuck. There was all this scorpion imagery and metaphor in the texts they liked to work from, but they didn't really know what a scorpion was. Writers could kind of work around it (there's a lot of "oh, it's a venomous creature, moving on"), but sometimes they felt the need to break it down better. For this, of course, they'd have to refer to a bestiary -- but due to Bestiary Telephone and the persistent need of bestiary authors to turn animals into allegories, one of the only visual details you got on scorpions was that they... had a beautiful face, which they used to distract people in order to sting them.

And look. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum, but I would say that a scorpion's face has significant aesthetic appeal only for a fairly small segment of the population. I'm sure you could get an entomologist to rhapsodize about it a bit, but your average person on the street will not be entranced by the face of a scorpion. So this did not help the medieval Europeans in figuring out how to depict scorpions. There was also some semantic confusion -- see, in some languages (such as Old and Middle English), "worm" could be a general term for very small animals of any kind. But it also could mean "serpent".* So there were some, like our artist at the top of the post, who were pretty sure a scorpion was a snake. This was probably helped along by the fact that "venomous" was one of the only things everyone knew about them, and hey, snakes are venomous. Also, Pliny the Elder had floated the idea that there were scorpions in Africa that could fly, and at least one author (13th-century monk Bartholomaeus Anglicus) therefore suggested that they had feathers. I don't see that last one coming up much, I just share it because it's funny to me.

*English eventually resolved this by borrowing the Latin vermin for very small animals, using the specialized spelling wyrm for big impressive mythical-type serpents, and sticking with the more specific snake for normal serpents.

Some authors, like the anonymous author of the Ancrene Wisse, therefore suggested that a scorpion was a snake with a woman's face and a stinging tail. (Everyone seemed to be on the same page with regards to the fact that the sting was in the tail, which is in fact probably the most recognizable aspect of scorpions, so good job there.) However, while authors could avoid this problem, visual artists could not. And if you were illustrating a bestiary or a calendar, including a scorpion was not optional. So they had to take a shot at what this thing looked like.

And so, after this way-too-long explanation, the thing you're probably here for: inaccurate medieval drawings of scorpions. (There are of course accurate medieval drawings of scorpions, from artists who lived in the southern part of Europe and/or visited places where scorpions lived; I'm just not showing you those.) And if you find yourself wondering, "how sure are you that that's meant to be a scorpion?" -- all of these are either from bestiaries or from calendars that include zodiac illustrations.

11th-century England, MS Arundel 60. (Be honest, without the rest of this post, if I had asked you to guess what animal this was supposed to be, would you have ever guessed “scorpion”?)

12th-century Germany, "Psalter of Henry the Lion". (Looks a bit undercooked. Kind of fetal.)

12th-century France, Peter Lombard's Sententiae. (Very colorful, itsy bitsy claws, what is happening with that tail?)

12th-century England, "The Shaftesbury Psalter". (So a scorpion is some sort of wyvern with a face like a duck, correct?)

13th-century France, Thomas de Cantimpré's Liber de natura rerum. (I’d give them credit for the silhouette not being that far off, but there’s a certain bestiary style where all the animals kind of look like that. Also note how few of these have claws.)

13th-century England, "The Bodley Bestiary". (Mischievous flying squirrel impales local man’s hand, local man fails to notice.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (A scorpion is definitely either a mouse or a fish. Either way it has six legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Wait, no, it’s a baby theropod, and it has two legs. (Yes, this is the same manuscript, that’s not an error, this artist did four scorpions and no two are the same.))

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Actually it’s a lizard with tiny ears and it has four legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Now that we’re at the big fancy illustration, I think I’ve got it — it’s like that last one, but two legs, longer ears, and a less goofy face. Also I’ve decided it’s not pink anymore, I think that was the main problem.)

13th-century England, MS Kk.4.25. (A scorpion is a flat crocodile with a bear’s head.)

13th-century England, "The Huth Psalter". (Wyvern but baby! Does not seem to be enjoying biting its own tail.)

13th-century England, MS Royal 1 D X. (This triangular-headed gentlecreature gets the award for “closest guess at correct limb configuration”. If two of those were claws, I might actually believe this artist had seen a scorpion before, or at least a picture of one.)

13th-century England, "The Westminster Psalter". (A scorpion is the offspring of a wyvern and a fawn.)

13th-century England, "The Rutland Psalter". (Too many legs! Pull back! Pull back!)

13th or 14th-century France, Bestiaire d'amour rimé. (This is very similar to the fawn-wyvern, but putting it in an actual Scene makes it even more obvious that you’re just guessing.)

14th-century Netherlands, Jacob van Maerlant's Der Naturen Bloeme. (More top-down six-legged guys that look too furry to be arthropods.)

14th-century Germany, MS Additional 22413. (That is clearly a turtle.)

14th-century France, Matfres Eymengau de Beziers's Breviari d'amor. (Who came up with that head shape and what was their deal?)

15th-century England, "Bestiary of Ann Walsh". (Screw it, a scorpion is a big lizard that glares at you for trying to make me draw things I don’t know about.)

I've spent way too much time on this now. End of post, thank you to anyone who got all the way down here.

[reiderwriter]

Can I request a Spencer babying the reader BAU and everyone on the team is so done with it but reader is confused and oblivious...?

A/N: Thank you for your request! I've been very much feeling post-Prison/ later seasons Spencer recently, so I hope you enjoy this fic!

Warnings: mostly fluff, implied age-gap, slight mentor/mentee dynamic.

Your first year in the BAU would've been tough had it not been for Doctor Spencer Reid.

It was tough still, but without him, you don't think you'd have been able to handle much of it. He'd been your mentor through each case, taking you under his wing when he wasn't on academic leave, teaching his criminology courses at the FBI Academy.

Those weeks were the hardest, and you found yourself moping about in the office, texting him once or twice a trip for advice.

On one particularly hard case, he'd come back into the office after you'd text. Not to consult on the case, but just to drop you off a chamomile tea and a pastry to brighten your day that little bit.

When he was back, your days were great. He knew so much, and you learnt so much from him so quickly, eagerly consuming his every word. You were so eager to please him that you often forgot others around the two of you.

“Spencer, if you're done fawning after Y/N we have a case to work on,” Emily gently chastised the man as he pulled out your chair for you, ready to sit down to hear the details of your next crime.

“Oh, Emily, thank you, but it's okay. Doctor Reid was just being considerate, I'm sure he'd have done it for anyone.” The shared glances around the room were filled with glib secrecy, but no-one commented further, leaving you slightly baffled.

Those shared looks between the other members of your team had become more common as of late, with each one more worrisome than the next. There was something unsettling about being the only one out of the loop, and as the newest member of the team, and the youngest, it often felt disheartening.

“Y/N, don't worry. Being the youngest member of any team is tough, but you're smart and you're holding your own.” With a pat to your head he walked away, lifting the weight off your shoulders slightly but not fully. You needed to get to the bottom of the BAU's non-verbal communications, and you needed answers.

Your first technique was interrogation. Surely one of them would break and tell you if you laid out your thoughts and feelings clearly.

Surely not, you found, as each member casually and softly blew you off.

“Y/N, you just need to think carefully about how certain members of the team act towards you. How familiar they are. How overly familiar they are.” Tara had at least told you that much, bit it had left you just as confused as the radio silence from the others.

“Everyone has behaved very professionally with me. You've all been very welcoming up to this point, which I appreciate greatly.”

“I wouldn't count gifting you flowers for your first successful case as the most professional act, Y/N,” she said as she sipped her coffee. “But I suppose that is just up to interpretation.

Doctor Reid had sent you flowers after you finished your first case. But there had been extenuating circumstances in that case. You'd both worked on the geographical profile on that case, and together had figured out the species of flower the unsub was using was only cultivated on one local flower orchard. It had cracked the case open and you'd found your unsub hours later.

So the flowers were an extension of that small joint success. That was all.

Your second attempt at figuring out what was going on was observation.

Partially taking Tara’s advice, you tried your best to track the moments when each of the weary looks would come your way.

Overwhelmingly, they seemed to be directed towards Doctor Reid whenever the two of you interacted.

You had to gently inform him of this, before it interrupted both of your abilities to work.

“Doctor Reid, do you know why Emily and Rossi are both currently watching us from between the blinds in their offices?” You whispered to the man, leaning in close to his ear. You were quite sure he didn't know, but a question seemed as good a way as any to broach the topic.

“I do, yes. It's best if you ignore them.”

His nonchalance in the matter shocked you, so sure you were that this would be news to him. You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

“Why are they staring at us?” You finally managed to force the words out in a small squeak, forcing his eyes back to yours.

“Don't worry about it for now, I'll handle it.” He smiled down as you, and the bright gesture washed away more of the tension you'd been feeling in the office. You smiled back at him as he rose from his desk chair and carried himself to the stairs. You giggled when he winked down at you, just as you noticed Emily frantically hurrying away from her office window as Spencer knocked on her door.

As much as he told you to not worry about it all though, you really couldn't help yourself. You found yourself growing more clumsy under the watchful eyes of your entire team, galling more times than you'd care to admit into Doctor Reid's arms. He always caught you, though, and you were thankful you never did yourself serious injury.

You finally got the answers you'd craved out on a case about a month into your struggles.

There was something slightly unsettling about the way the female Sheriff was paying attention to Doctor Reid, and it made you uncomfortable. Your mouth ran dry when she touched his arm, but a small part of you warmed up again when he shrugged her off. Until, at least, you heard him explain why.

“I'm sorry, I'm a germophobe, so I'd really prefer you not touch me.” His voice was calm and steady; it really didn't seem like he was lying.

“You're not pulling my leg? I'm sorry if I came on too strong, but-”

“Why would I pull your leg, I said I don't like physical touch?”

“Well, there was that young girl earlier, Y/N was it? You had your hand on her back as you walked in, so I didn't think…”

The woman had made a good point, and you crept closer to the edge of the door to hear Doctor Reid - Spencer's response.

“Sheriff, if we're done here, do you think I could get back to my job?” You were almost disappointed in the change of topic, but you weren't all that sad to see the Sheriff remove herself from the room. Slipping in behind her you decided to test the new theory that had slipped into your mind in the last minutes.

You called out to him to grab his attention as you walked into the room but before he had the chance to turn and greet you, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your body down against his, enveloping him in a back hug.

It was quite possibly the most familiar position you'd been in with him, but really it wasn't all that different from your usual proximity.

Unlike when the Sheriff casually brushed against him, he didn't stiffen, didn't pull away, but instead melted into your touch, looking up at you with a large grin.

You stood shocked for a minute before grinning back.

“Spencer, I think I know why everyone has been watching us for the last few weeks.” You said, causing his eyes to panic slightly as he acknowledged your words.

“The, uh, the Sheriff was just in here talking about a development either some of the DNA test results-” He desperately tried to change the subject, but you were locked in now, spinning his chair around to face you more as you came eye-to-eye with him.

“I know why the Sheriff was in here, Spencer, I heard it all.”

“It's not what you think,�� you paused for a moment as your brow furrowed, trying to figure out if you'd somehow caught the wrong end of the stick.

“So our coworkers haven't been waiting for you to ask me out, having noticed large changes in your body language and attitude around me?”

“It's….exactly as you think.” His face was flushed with pink and your heart skipped a beat at the man in front of you. But you still had some questions.

“And you knew, but you didn't say anything to me despite the fact that I bought it up multiple times?”

“I'm…I'm not good with words," he frowned

“Are you good with dates?”

“Excuse me?”

“You're going to take me on a date when we get back to Quantico. After giving it some thought, Doctor Reid, it seems I've become quite enamoured of you.” You dropped into his lap then, sitting there like a cat pleased to take up residence on its owners legs. He stuttered for a few seconds but then found his voice again, face lighting up.

“Spencer. Please, Y/N, call me Spencer.”

[flamingpudding]

Bat dad meet Ghost dad

Several years earlier....

"JAAAAAAZZZZZZZZ!" Danny flew excited through the Ghost Zone with a little kid in his arms rushing past some of his former rogues as he made a B-Line for his sister that happened to be in the Zone too, currently in a deep conversation with Frostbite about something Danny hadn't cared to pay attention to long enough. But right now he had exciting news he really wanted to share with his sister. Even now as adults Danny tented to live out his childishness whenever he could especially when he and his family went into the Ghost Zone.

The Halfa came to a screeching halt as he grined brightly at his sister who looked back at him with a raised eyebrow, slightly amused at her younger brothers giddiness. "What is it Danny?"

"I got a son now!" Danny declared happily holding up a young ghost teen by the armpits into his sisters face.

The 'son' in Danny's hands stared at Jazz blinking owlishly as if the teen boy still needed a moment to catch up with what was going on and Jazz blinked back at the ghost and then at Danny. That was not a child but a teen ghost. Going by the size the kid was probably around 14 or 15 and he looked very much traumatised and Jazz could not tell if that was because of Danny or because of how the teen possible died.

"Danny what did you-" Her brother did not let her finish her question as he started rambling excitedly.

"He is a baby ghost Jazz! Look how young he is! I found him floating around aimlessly, his hunt hasn't even fully formed yet and when i picked him up there was that instant connection! You know the same-"

"Danny."

"I have with Clockwork and Pandora! I instantly knew he was mine! Mine to protect! Mine to guide! When I saw him I swear I just knew, I ghost adopted him the moment I made contact! He is family Jazz-"

"Danny."

"I just know he belongs with us! Look at him and tell me he doesn't have Fenton charms! I am sure Dan and Dani will love him too! He is such a cute little ghost! There is so much I can teach him! I will be the best dad ever to this wonderful little baby ghost! And-"

"Daniel William James Fenton!"

Danny bite his tongue instantly silenced when Jazz pulled out the full name call. Both him and the teen in his arms stared at her a bit shell shocked and in that moment Jazz couldn't help but hide a small amused smile at how similar Danny and the teen in his arms looked when they stared at her.

"Did you explain any of this to him?" She indicated to the teen, who's name she by the way still didn't know. Danny at least had the curtesy to look a little ashamed as Jazz pointed that out and let go of the teen so they could float on their own. She sighed with a fond smile before looking at the teen that looked a bit unsure between her and Danny now.

"What's your name?" She asked them with a friendly and encouraging smile.

"Jason...."

Current time...

Jason was in a little bit of a predicament. Originally he really thought he never would end up in this kind of situation espacially since he didn't think he would patch up things with Bruce any time soon. But we'll here he was...

Life liked proofing him wrong.

Like with he fact that Jason could use a ghost wail in dire situation. And that something like that would naturally call his ghost dad onto the scene since he collapsed after it.

And like with how he woke up in the bat caves med bay with both Danny and Bruce standing over him and glaring at each other. Or at least he thought they were glaring at each other that looked like a pretty annoyed stare in his eyes from Danny and Bruce's jaw was really tense from what was visible and not covered by his cowl.

So all Jason could do was endure at the moment. Aaaaand refuse to make eye contact with any of his present siblings. Mainly Dick because he wasn't sure how to interpret the others' smiles. For a moment Jason wondered if he could hide out in his ghost-dad's castle in the Ghost Zone for a while until whatever storm was brewing with Bruce was over.

There was also a moment in which Jason wondered if there could have been anything done to avoid this... confrontation(?). Before feeling the need to face palm because his Aunt that sort of has been giving him free therapy told him repeatedly that communication was key. He never regretted not listening to her more than he was right now.

To be fair. Communication with Bruce espacially hadn't been his strong suit for a while now before and after his death.

"So you are his Bat-Dad?" Jason did not like the way Danny, his ghost dad was using the word 'dad' right now. Oh good was he trying to challenge Bruce?

"And you are his Ghost-Dad?" Bruce grunted, oh now Jason was sure Bruce was giving Danny a glare, and Danny was getting that protective look in his eyes Jason was all to familiar with from his time as a dead baby ghost.

He groaned loudly sinking lower onto the medbed. Why did these things always have to happen to him? At least he was lucky that his Ghost Aunt and Uncle didn't show up too.

[thewisecheerio]

Messmer's actually terrible at his job. (affectionate)

Messmer is a fascinating villain, because he is strangely compassionate. I would go so far as to argue that this same compassion that is so at odds with his villainy is the very thing that drove him to become that villain in the first place. Hang with me; this is a long post.

Spoilers for Elden Ring DLC. Obviously.

Messmer tells us himself that his purpose is to purge all those stripped of the grace of gold. "Yet...my purpose standeth unchanged. Those stripped of grace of gold shall all meet death...in the embrace of Messmer's flame." We can piece together who gave him this genocidal purpose from his armor set's description, which tells us directly that he's working on his mother's behalf *and also* taking all the blame for it.

So he's playing war criminal on Marika's behalf. And I do mean playing. I'm not downplaying the fact that he is a war criminal; he has murdered on entire people. But here's the thing: he's *terrible* at playing the sole part of the spiteful, hateful overlord. He's *awful* at reveling in war and its victories.

Why? Empathy.

Messmer is strangely empathic for what could have otherwise been a cut-and-dry villain:

1. His relationship with Gaius, an Albinauric: We learn from Gaius's Remembrance that he was Messmer's bestie. We also know that Gaius was an Albinauric both from his armor as well as the location "Albinauric's Hut" in the direction he comes from at the beginning of his fight. Albinaurics are despised by the Golden Order, but Messmer didn't seem to care. In fact, he cared so little that he gave Gaius command of either a huge chunk or perhaps his entire army, second only to him. And what is given as the basis of this friendship? The fact that they were "both cursed from birth", i.e. a mutual understanding of what it is to be despised. They're trauma bonded because they have empathy for each other's predicament.

2. His relationship with the Jar people: Even though the Jar people were used as weapons of war against his own people, he doesn't seem to resent them. How do we know? There is a hospital where the Jars and their innards are being cared for in the Storehouse, a stone's throw away from where Messmer spends all his time. There are even a few baby Jars running around in it. Strange thing to do to what is essentially an enemy of your people, unless you consider them to also be victims of the same conflict.

3. His relationship with his soldiers: Messmer shares his own flame with his army. Yeah, that absolutely could be interpreted as a utilitarian move for the sake of war. Power up the troops, boost your chance at victory. But it's a strange choice when he could have just armed them in the traditional way of handing them sharp, pointy objects and pointing in the desired direction of stabbing. Instead, arming your soldiers with your own power could also be interpreted as something you do when you care about their survival and are potentially working directly with them to ensure it.

4. The mourning of people who betray him: Speaking of his soldiers, Messmer gets betrayed by at least a few of them. We learn this from the ashes of Andreas and Huw. Huw's ashes further tell us that Messmer *mourned their loss* as brothers-in-arms. Weird thing to do to someone who has betrayed you, unless you care very deeply about them to begin with.

5. The implications of the Storehouse: Even though he is actively genociding Hornsent on Marika's orders, he somehow has preserved an entire library of their history. At first, I thought this was maybe just British Museum vibes: steal all the artifacts and refuse to give them back. (And that could still be a correct interpretation.) But in context of the rest of these points, if you're truly hellbent on erasing a culture, why would you bother to preserve any of it? Would you not burn the libraries along with the people? It's a fairly common thing to do in our world's wars--destroy the art and history to ensure full erasure. And yet, it seems he can't even bring himself to avoid some small amount of sympathy for the people he was explicitly tasked with killing. If you really *think* about the basis for his sympathy for Marika, this does make a lot of sense. Messmer is following Marika's orders because he knows about what the Hornsent did to the Shaman. Wouldn't it then also be the case that once Marika's reign became nothing but genocide, i.e. an exact reversal of what was done to her people, he would have the same kind of sympathy for them? Perhaps this is a form of harm reduction in the only way he could square with what he thinks is his purpose.

6. His own self-hatred: Messmer despises his own flames, which we learn from the Messmer's Orb description. If you were happy to be Doing a Genocide, would you not celebrate your weapons of war? Wouldn't you take pride in them as tools of power? Unless, of course, you're not actually as happy as we think and maybe having regrets and come to be filled with severe self-hatred. Woops.

So then, if Messmer is this guy running around with a lot of Big Feelings (and probably a deep need for a Prozac prescription), why does he even agree to this genocide in the first place? Isn't that an *odd* choice for someone who seems to care pretty deeply about people, even people despised by his family's governing order? Why does he carry out these orders even to the point of developing a deep self-hatred?

This is where Messmer's sympathy, one of his best aspects, also becomes his fatal flaw.

I mentioned above in 5 that Messmer has access to information about both sides of this conflict. As much as he might have sympathy for everyone around him--including weapons used against the Shaman like the Jars--that means he *also* has sympathy for the Shaman. So if you have sympathy for the other side and sympathy for your side, and you are raised by your own side, then what is the natural outcome? Your side wins. If you must choose a side, then you fight on behalf of Child Soldier Fostering Mother Marika. She raised you, after all. It's inevitable.

In the end, that same sympathy he seems to extend to others also is what causes him to do war crimes. Out of an abundance of sympathy for what happened to the Shamans, he agrees to take up arms.

At the end of the day, he's still a villain that needs to be stopped so that he'll stop oppressing an entire people on behalf of his mother's misguided attempts at revenge. But making his reasoning to agree to become that villain in the first place *empathy* of all things? Fascinating.

[crowleysgirl56]

One thing I haven’t really touched on is the final fifteen because there is honestly so much going on here and so many different theories that I feel if I tried to discuss any of my own thoughts I’m afraid I’m just going to get it all wrong.

But one thing that has struck me recently as I keep thinking over certain things is specifically the look in Aziraphale’s eyes when Crowley starts kissing him.

Let’s think about what types of romantics the Ineffables are:

Aziraphale: he’s a traditional romantic. He gets his point of reference from books. The classics basically. He throws a ball with the intention to get Maggie and Nina together but it comes from the Jane Austin trope of “people can discuss how they’ve misunderstood each other and come to realise they’re made for each other”.

Crowley: he’s a modern romantic. He gets his reference from cheesy Rom-com movies. Grand gestures, one fabulous kiss in a sudden rain storm, run to the airport last ditch attempt to declare you love before they leave, one final last minute desperate plea to keep them by your side.

At first glance Aziraphale’s look in the above gif suggests confusion. Painful confusion. I’ve seen some people interpret this as Aziraphale doesn’t want to be kissed or never wanted to kiss Crowley. I disagree, you can’t tell me that this is the face of a man who isn’t thinking about kissing Crowley every damn second of this season:

The man has been thinking of kissing Crowley every damn second for 6000 years. And I think that’s kind of the point. He’s been thinking of his version of how their first kiss would go. The hopeless traditional romantic. A lovely ball, a confession of love, a walk in a park, a dinner date at the Ritz, soft kiss under the moonlight, that sort of thing. And I honestly think Crowley would have loved that too. But bigger. Grand gesture after all. Fireworks, grand parade, dash to the airport, sudden rainstorm, music swells. But instead, Crowley was left with a last minute desperate plea. And I think Aziraphale knows it.

The pain and confusion in Aziraphale’s eyes is not because he thinks that one first magnificent kiss he’s been dreaming of them sharing has been “ruined” or “stolen” from his ideal way. He’s in pain because he realises exactly what it is Crowley’s doing, why he’s doing it, and he’s devastated that it came to this. That’s why he kisses back. Because he needs to let them both feel it, even for a second.

All this to say, it’s been 15 months and I still can’t stop thinking about it. Though to be fair, I’m guessing neither can they.

[ellieputellas]

pretend | alexia putellas x reader

Alexia contemplates her feelings as you pretend a drunken kiss between you two never happened.

contains: angst, some making out, barçafemeni!reader, avoidant!reader, just a lot of angst tbh | word count: 2k+

a/n: not proofread, just wrote this cause i couldnt sleep and was listening to lizzy mcalpine's hate to be lame which gave me this idea

it's always on the tip of my tongue but i stop myself from saying it tell myself it's not the right time or something dumb

The last night of the Champion's League celebration was supposed to be just like any other victory party—loud, drunk, messy. On nights like this, it was natural to make a fool of yourself.

Alexia was never immune to the drunken stupidity — the typical drunken dancing and singing, foolish antics that got the team laughing. (In one victory party, Alexia found herself dancing with someone else's sports bra wrapped around on her head.)

But on that particular night, her drunken act of stupidity wasn't just loud karaoke or making a fool of herself. No, it was way different.

At some point, during the night, you two had gotten drunk and began grinding on each other at the dance floor. It was normal for teammates to get a bit touchy during parties so no one bat an eye but Alexia knew this thing happening between you two was different.

It started with playful dancing then you somehow found a way to plant a few kisses on her neck. It didn’t take long until you two ended up stumbling into the vacant restroom, kissing each other desperately.

Some kind of tension has always lingered between the two of you before but Alexia always chalked it up to the two of you being newly single. She always brushed it off, thinking it might just be her reading into things. Afer all, you have always been her type and she figured she might be interpreting your dynamic through wishful thinking.

But that night, that small tension she felt burst into something more, and she understood that this meant it wasn't just her who felt attraction towards the other.

She felt your hands desperately cling onto her as you locked lips. Your tongue glided on her bottom lip before ultimately finding its way into her mouth. You took turns pinning each other against the flimsy walls of the cramped stall.

Alexia's hand has found it way to your neck, gently tilting your head up with it before pressing her mouth against your neck to kiss, lick, and bite at you. You gasped in satisfaction as the taller girl kissed your neck.

You grabbed her face again to kiss her deeper, more intensely. Alexia felt that this was the type of kiss that could lead to something more; the likelihood of you crossing that line increasing with every minute that passed.

You gently pushed her off of you, as you tried to catch a breath. Your eyes remained locked as you stayed within close proximity. After a while, you noticed the hunger in Alexia's eyes simmer down into something more... soft and intimate.

This time, Alexia gently touched your face and moved to capture your lips again but this time, you looked away and avoided her kiss. You sighed before hurriedly unlocking the stall, walking out the restroom, and leaving Alexia all alone without even a goodbye.

Alexia felt dumbfounded. She thought that this kiss was your way of addressing the tension, a way of telling her that maybe you felt attracted to her too. But with the sudden exit, she began to doubt herself.

She wanted to talk to you about it the next time you saw each other but it became immediately evident to her that you were set on pretending like nothing happened.

You still joked with her in training, still bantered with her, tell stories like normal. You acted exactly like you did before; it was as if she dreamt up the kiss.

She played along like nothing had shifted, like your kiss had been meaningless. She even laughed at your jokes during training. But every word felt like a lie, every shared laughter felt like a stab.

In her mind, she wished you'd at least act different. She would rather you hated her or avoided her, something—anything to confirm that there was something real, something more.

But you acted like it was nothing.

She felt like she was going crazy, even doubting her own sanity at some point. She spent the past few months trying to forget it ever happened. But the more she tried, the more it hurt her. Because how could you pretend that all of that was nothing... when it felt like everything for her.

But then you kiss me like you do And we're right back where we started from

It was Pina’s birthday.

Alexia initially didn't want to go. It was in the middle of the season and she knew that the team captain being there meant everyone would be too hesitant and shy to drink, knowing she was around.

But she knew how Pina was, and she knew Pina would pester her endlessly if she didn't at least make an appearance.

So, she did. She went to the place late and much to her surprise, most of the team was behaving. A few of the players were nursing a bottle of beer but nothing excessive. She figured she must have done something right for her teammates to be so well-disciplined even without her hovering around them.

Well... she thought that until she saw you.

Of course, she's drunk. She thought to herself.

You were already tipsy, practically glowing, and laughing too loudly. The sight of you sent a jolt of something unfamiliar through her.

You had your arms wrapped around Caro, who was trying too hard to help you sober up by making you drink from a bottle of water. Alexia sighed and made her way to save Caro from your drunkenness.

Caro gave her a thankful look as she took over in aiding to you. She let you drape your arms around her as she wiped the stray hairs that stuck to your face.

"In the middle of the season?" She asked you in a stern voice. "Really?"

You frowned at her. "You wouldn't get it."

Alexia just sighed as she continued what Caro was doing, desperately trying to get you to sober up. "Did something happen?"

You stayed silent but you were too easy to read when you were drunk. Your glazed expression gave away that you were going through something. You still had an arm wrapped around Alexia, as if to keep yourself balanced, but you were also trying to avert your gaze away from her.

Alexia sighed. "I should take you home."

You bit your lip but you nodded. Alexia sighed and held your waist as you kept an arm around her; she was afraid if she let go, you'd fall over.

The car ride was silent. She wanted to talk to you about why you were getting irresponsibly drunk, why you seemed upset and... why you acted like your kiss never happened. But instead, she stayed silent, and as did you.

Alexia pulled up to your apartment building. After she parked, you unclasped your seatbelts but neither of you made a move to exit the car.

Alexia sighed. "Do you wanna talk... about anything?"

You shifted your gaze towards her, taking in how pretty she looked tonight. She was wearing a leather jacket on top of a cropped shirt, revealing a sliver of her abdomen. Your eyes now fluttered to her face. You took in her warm eyes, her nose, her lips. She looked so besutiful even under the dim lighting. You thought, fuck, why does she have to be so gorgeous?

You hummed. "I'm sorry I took you away from the party... especially since you look so good tonight."

Alexia started growing anxious as you said those words. "Well, I didn't really plan on going anyway..." Alexia said.

Drunkenly, you reached out to cup her face and guiding it upward so she'd meet your gaze. You stayed that way for a bit, just looking at each other's eyes. Until finally, you couldn't take it.

You leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss. It was more gentle than before, more intentional. As you pulled away, you studied her expression but Alexia just looked pained.

She sighed and looked away, causing your hand on her cheek to drop. She took a deep breath as she gripped the steering wheel with her hands and rested her head on top of it.

Emotions were overwhelming her. This was the long overdue confirmation she wanted from you so bad yet... it felt so wrong.

After a minute, Alexia finally spoke. "Why?"

"Huh? Why what?" You asked back.

She lifted her head slightly and locked eyes with you again. "Just... why?"

You sighed. "I don't know... I just want to kiss you."

Alexia looked exasperated. She took a moment to think. Do you remember last time? Why did you act like it never happened? Why do you want to kiss me now? Why do you only want to kiss me when you're drunk? Do I mean something? Do the kisses mean something? Do you... like me like I like you?

She had a million questions flying around her head but she settled on one. "Tell me honestly. Do you remember the last time we kissed?" She locked eyes with you and this time, you could see pain behind them. She tried to be firm with the way she asked but the vulnerability seeped through.

You blinked at her. “I think about it all the time,” you admitted before you could even consider lying; your inebriation made you too honest.

Alexia chest tightened as she felt hurt by the admission. Am I not supposed to be happy... that she thinks about it too like I do?

Before she could react, you were trying to lean in again as your face cupped her cheek, trying to kiss her. And that's when Alexia snapped into clarity.

No. You were drunk. This wasn’t... healthy. She couldn’t let herself do this again, not when everything between you was so confusing, so undefined.

“No,” Alexia whispered, gently pushing you away, though her hands shook with the desire to do exactly the opposite.

You looked at her with an expression that could only read as upset to Alexia but she tried to ignore it as she unlocked your car door. "I think you should go."

You stayed steady for a minute, twiddling your thumbs then staring at her but she kept her head low, trying so hard not to look at you until you finally stepped out without another word.

Hate to admit but it might be true Hate to admit but I think you knew Hate to be lame but I might love you

After that night, as expected, you didn't acknowledge the kiss. But this time, you started acting cold.

No more joking around. No more banter. You'd be laughing it up with the other Barça girls but as soon as Alexia came over, you'd bail and make an excuse to avoid her.

It was killing her, just being like this. Mapi had taken notice and pulled Alexia aside to ask if she was alright, which Alexia just hesitantly nodded.

Mapi didn't believe it for a moment. "Is it because of..." Mapi trailed off as she discreetly turned her gaze towards you as you were busy on your phone in the locker room.

Alexia sighed and said nothing but that was enough confirmation for Mapi. She sighed. "You need to talk it out," She said. "It's kinda affecting your dynamic on and off the pitch."

Alexia knew Mapi was right. Not only was it taking a toll on her emotions to be dealing with this awkward tension and silent avoidance, it wasn't long before shit gets worse and the team performance is affected. If it was only affecting her, she would have dropped the whole issue but she knew this was beyond you and her.

She caught you before training the next day, her voice sharp but shaking as she confronted you. "Can we talk?"

You sighed and nodded. "Yeah, Capi?"

She winced at the nickname, knowing that it was your tactic to distance yourself from her. Just another subtle way of deflecting.

“I know you feel the same way,” Alexia blurted it out, her words tumbling out too quickly. She regretted being so outright but she also no longer wanted to waste time. She had to do what she had to do.

Alexia sighed as she ran her hand through her hair. “And... it hurt when you acted like nothing happened. Like it didn’t matter.” Her chest heaved with the weight of everything she hadn’t said.

You stayed silent which just forced Alexia into doing all the talking. "I don't know what's going on with you but... why me? Why are you roping me into this?"

"It's nothing." You muttered.

Alexia grew frustrated. "Bullshit."

"What do you want me to do, Alexia?" Your eyes finally met hers.

"I don't know." She groaned. "Admit you like me too... or even just admit you kissed me. Tell me why you did. Tell me if it mattered. Fuck, I'd settle with you telling me it was a mistake. I just... need to hear from you that..."

"Nothing happened,” you said firmly, almost as if to convince yourself as much as her.

Alexia’s heart sank. She was there just begging for you to admit it did, even if you say it was a mistake; she just needed to hear it from you. Instead, you denied her again.

“But—”

“Drop it,” you snapped, turning quickly, rushing away before she could say anything more.

She watched you go, her hands shaking at her sides. There was nothing more she could do. She was left standing there, confused and hurt, unable to understand why it hurt so much. How could you pretend it meant nothing when everything inside her screamed that it meant everything?

Do I love her? Do I need her? Do I want her? Do I care enough to say That I love her, that I need her? 'Cause I don't but I wanna feel okay

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and Alexia still couldn't forget what happened.

Your dynamic on the pitch suffered for a bit but it recovered. And pretty soon, you were acting normal again around her.

As if nothing, nothing at all, had happened.

For a while, Alexia had convinced herself she had moved on from it. It was just two kisses, she told herself on multiple occasions. You don't even like her that much.

But there were nights when she couldn't help but be consumed with confusion and frustration. She hated how it happened—how you treated her, how you pretended nothing was real.

On most days, she hated you. She acted normal around you, sure, but there was an added layer now. Everything was more guarded. Even if she asked you often how you were and laughed at your jokes, your relationship was hurt and it could never go back to how it was.

And even if she did despise you for what you did... she still couldn’t stop the way her heart raced when she saw you. She couldn’t shut off the part of her that still hoped that maybe, one day, you'd admit to her that it did happen and maybe that you feel a certain softness for her too.

But she knew it wasn't happening any time soon and now, all she can do is what you do best — pretend.

[rosieofcorona]

Mythal, Solas, and Lavellan (An Analysis)

Please be aware that this post contains spoilers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard, so now is the time to click away until you have finished the game. All opinions shared here are just opinions, and are not intended to be presented as fact. 💕

So, this is sort of an abridged version of what could be (and may someday be) a more in-depth analysis, but I just want to offer a different perspective on the Mythal vs. Lavellan discourse when it comes to Solas’ love and loyalty. I've included a lot of supporting evidence from the game, and wanted to share some of it for your consideration: I want to start in the Lighthouse, for the folks who are upset that we didn't see Lavellan amongst Solas' memories. I think this is for the best, all things considered. The regrets we see in the Lighthouse are all of Mythal– taking a form for her, letting her mold him, doing things he thought were “monstrous” at her request, however well (or ill) intentioned. To me, Solas regrets Mythal nearly as a whole. He loved her, certainly, but I think it’s very apparent that he wants more than anything to close that chapter of his life and move on, which he cannot do without confronting the mistakes of his past. From my view, it’s an excellent sign, actually, that Lavellan is not among the great regrets of his life. He says to Rook that he regrets being selfish with her– but he “cherishes” his closeness with, and his love for Lavellan “more than [his] victories.” The same cannot be said of anything on those walls in the Lighthouse.

That same closeness with Mythal– regardless of whether it was romantic, platonic, familial– hurt him, over and over. Everything he did in service of that love, he regrets. He does not cherish it, at least not in the same way. I think I would’ve been offended, frankly, if Lavellan had been on those walls beside her.

Moreover, he acknowledges Lavellan’s goodness, and doesn’t really do that for Mythal, at least not here. Yes, in Trespasser, he said that Mythal was the best of the Evanuris, but we know it’s a low bar to clear. Does that mean she was evil? Not necessarily. But he also says to Rook that all the Evanuris “were monsters, in their own ways,” and moments later tells them, by contrast, that Lavellan “is a good woman.”

I don’t think it’s his love for Mythal (or even his loyalty to her) that keeps him away from Lavellan, either. He cannot in good conscience give himself what he wants most without first fixing what he broke. He doesn’t want to bring down the Veil anymore, not really. He even acknowledges the Dalish as "our people," to an elven Rook (Lavellan's influence?), and says it was a "privilege" to help them again. He says in the final confrontation that he is compelled to bring down the Veil at this point because otherwise, he has failed and wronged and harmed people for nothing– Lavellan among them. He says, more or less, that he has to see it through, has to bring back “the world [Mythal] wanted,” or else all the suffering he’s imposed has been in vain. That reads to me as a sunk cost fallacy more than an act of great loyalty. 

If we’re talking about what Solas wanted, by comparison, we see it in his codex letter to Lavellan– he says, outright, “I could have…even put my plans aside, and simply stayed with you as Solas…which is what I wanted.” His desires do not match Mythal’s, and in fact are the opposite. But again, how can he allow himself to have his own way when he does not yet feel he has righted his wrongs? 

Here we wade into murkier waters (as this could be a more personal interpretation than what was actually intended), but I think it’s fascinating that in Solas’ memory of manifestation, he tells Mythal, “I will always follow where you go.” I think this may be his original regret. I think he wishes he would’ve followed his heart (both in the moral sense, and later, the vhenan sense), rather than pledging himself to another being that “broke him,” as Mythal herself admits to doing.

And speaking of vhenan, my final note: Mythal is never anything but Mythal, to Solas. Even when she calls him “love" in his memories, he does not reciprocate. He refers to her as nothing besides her name. Lavellan is always given the title of Vhenan. He has not called her Inquisitor since before Trespasser, and even then it was because he was trying to create distance, to avoid hurting her further. But ultimately she is his heart, and he wants to follow her, and Mythal is the only thing stopping him– not because he is holding onto her, but because she is in his way.

[bweeeb]

THREE AT ONCE

Part two of:

I hope I don't disappoint those who were really hoping for this part two, sorry for the mistakes and poor writing. Enjoy.

Warnings: foursome, sex with dirty words, Reader being a slut for the boys but them also being for her, Smut, Draco maybe staying aside... i don't know I felt that after I wrote it (my apologies). Read on your own.

Summary: Rumors about you and your best friends were spread around Hogwarts and what better than not to make them come true to strengthen your friendship?

---

Rumors. You were sure that gossip came from a place full of unhappy people at a time when no one was happy. However, you were used to them and never thought you'd have so much fun with one.

— I think you should go for it. I wouldn't do it myself, but if I were you, I would.

You heard Pansy mumbling beside you and Daphne in the hall way.

— So, you're saying I'm a slut and would do it because of that? Parkinson, what the hell are you talking about?

A laugh escaped your lips, and Pansy immediately looked at you with a look of disdain at your interpretation.

— Shut up, you're their best friend, that's what I'm saying.

Pansy said, turning the corner towards the dungeons.

— If I had the same intimacy with them as you do, I'd do it too.

Daphne shrugged, and Parkinson clapped in celebration at her friend's words.

— That's what I meant to say.

— That's not the point, I can't fuck all three of them like a slut.

You argued while climbing the stairs to the common room.

— Oh, shut up. Of course, you can!

Pansy said to you once more, and another laugh escaped you.

— That's the second time you've told me to shut up, Parkinson.

— Listen, Draco Malfoy has a big dick, Mattheo Riddle must have a big dick, and Theodore Nott must have a big dick, live your life, Y/N, fuck them as much as you want.

Pansy shrugged and received two mischievous looks directed at her.

— Did you fuck Malfoy?

Daphne asked, and Pansy laughed nasally.

— Once, yes, and that's why I'm telling you.

Parkinson placed her hands on your shoulders. — They want to fuck you and made it clear, you trust them, they'd never hurt you, if all three wanted to share me, I'd be on all fours on this damn floor.

— You're their princess, Y/N. Enjoy it for God's sake.

That was the last thing said in the conversation before they entered the Slytherin common room and found the boys sitting in front of a fireplace.

— What were you girls talking about?

Mattheo was the first to ask with a sly smile on his face next to Theodore. Pansy and Daphne exchanged looks directed at you, who rolled your eyes and threw yourself next to Mattheo, who wrapped his arm around your shoulders almost immediately.

— What? What was that look?

Theo asked, and the two girls sat on the other couch near Blaise, who was reading a book.

— No.

You denied it to the two girls, who groaned in unison and threw their heads back.

— You totally want it.

Daphne said, and you laughed, shrugging.

— What are you talking about?

Draco grunted, and Pansy looked at you with a raised eyebrow. You immediately thought of the night you told them that Pansy had lost her virginity to Adrian Pucey. The boys kept bugging Parkinson for a month, but in your defense, you thought it was okay to tell, and now you knew Pansy would get revenge... or help you.

— We were talking about the four of you.

— The four of us? The four of us?

Theodore asked, pointing to himself, Draco, Mattheo, and you.

— What were you talking about?

Mattheo asked, opening a sly smile at the situation.

— About you guys having sex.

Pansy said, shrugging, and the three Slytherin boys' eyes fell on you once again like that last morning in your dormitory.

— Oh, and you totally want that, huh?

Riddle asked, lowering himself to your ear, and you scoffed with a smile on your face.

— I don't know, maybe I fantasized about it.

You said and got up from the leather couch while heading towards the stairs, but not before looking at Theo, Mattheo, and Draco and climbing to your dormitory. You knew what you were doing and had let your desires and needs control you just by the desperate look you received from your three boys, but you weren't worried about what it would turn into; you really wanted it a lot.

You didn't wait long until a knock on your door echoed through your dormitory, and you opened it as if you didn't want anything.

— Did you forget something here, boys?

You asked, and your steps moved away from the door when the three wild looks met your eyes. The door behind them closed, and Theodore pronounced "Muffliato" while Draco locked the door, and Mattheo smiled at you, taking small steps in your direction.

— So, you've been fantasizing about us three, huh?

Mattheo said, walking towards you slowly. His steps continued until the back of your knees met the edge of the mattress, making you stumble back and sit on your made bed.

— We all have fantasies, boys.

You said innocently, but contrary to your tone of voice, your eyes said much more than innocent things.

— I said there would be punishment, bellezza.

Theodore was the one who said it, approaching with his Italian accent in his voice, making the center between your legs heat up.

— What have you been fantasizing about, baby?

Mattheo asked with a mischievous smile on his face, looking at you with seductive eyes.

— Maybe I've fantasized about you all fucking me, maybe in my mouth, maybe in my ass, but whatever.

You joked and laughed after your sentence.

— Do you want that, princess? Do you want us to fuck you?

Draco was the one who asked, and his smile widened when he saw the three boys at your feet.

— How much can you take me, huh?

That was the last thing you said before the three of them started taking off their shirts and throwing them carelessly on the floor. Your confidence came from a place you didn't remember existing, and your ass lifted off the bed, hovering right in front of the three of them. You reached out to touch Mattheo's face, leaned in to pretend to start a kiss, and diverted, looking at Malfoy with a mischievous smile. Your hand ran through his blonde hair, causing Malfoy's breath to fail, and then your attention turned to the Italian with big needy eyes for you. You took a step towards him and entwined your hand in Nott's neck, pulling him into a heated, lustful kiss. Nott's hands went to your waist, pulling your body towards his until you detached from him with a funny smile.

— I didn't know you could carry weapons at Hogwarts, Nott.

You said, turning to Mattheo, passing by him, and kissing Draco next, who was more desperate than he seemed. His hands roamed your body, stopping nowhere until you pulled away and looked at Riddle with a provocative smile. He hated being last, and you knew that very well.

— Come here, Riddle.

You whispered, and in less than a second, Mattheo's hands roamed you, stopping under your green plaid skirt. He squeezed your ass hard and lowered your skirt while thrusting his tongue into your throat. With Draco's help, you no longer had your bottom clothes on, except for your red lace panties and the Slytherin Quidditch team sweatshirt.

— Hell yeah, baby.

Mattheo murmured, looking right at you when he ran out of breath. At that point, you started to feel such discomfort between your legs as you had never felt before.

You fell on your back on the bed and propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the three boys taking off their clothes and looking at you from the foot of the bed.

— Can you get on all fours so I can see something, la mia principessa? Theodore asked with a hoarse and lust-filled voice. With a narrowed look, you laughed, shaking your head, and turned around for them to see you on all fours. — She's fucking wearing my name on her back, you assholes.

Theodore laughed, giving your ass a slap before you turned back to face them.

— Points for Theo.

You laughed loudly and saw Malfoy and Riddle roll their eyes while dissipating.

Draco was the first to undress, so when he did, he climbed on the bed and attacked your neck with desire before angrily taking off your sweatshirt.

— Let's get this shit off your beautiful body.

Malfoy murmured, freeing your breasts from a red lace bra that matched your panties.

— That color is Gryffindor's, pff, what nonsense.

Mattheo murmured, climbing on the bed and kissing you before being pulled aside by Theo from the other side of your body.

Mattheo distributed kisses on your shoulder and clavicle while Theodore kissed your lips, and during that, Draco descended his mouth to your panties. He pulled them down your legs and opened them, leaving you exposed to them.

— Shit, she's so beautiful.

Draco moaned, and the other two moaned back when they looked at you better.

— Fuck yeah.

Theodore murmured, imitating Mattheo's previous steps, who was now on your mouth.

A finger from Malfoy ran through your slit and captured your essence on his fingers before falling with his tongue on you and sucking you as you had never been sucked before.

Your hands simultaneously grabbed the boys' hair on you, and your mouth opened against Mattheo's when Malfoy inserted a finger into you and began pumping it in and out at a comfortable pace.

When his tongue found your clit along with your G-spot, you came on Malfoy's face, who continued licking your pussy until he sucked everything he could. When your eyes opened directly to the image of Theodore and Mattheo rubbing against your bed, it made you smile in ecstasy and look at Draco next. You sat up and pulled him into a kiss as he rubbed his cock against you. Pulling away from him, you sat on your heels and saw Theo and Mattheo looking at you with their hands on their cocks, dripping pre-cum from the tip. Crawling to Theo, who was at the edge of the bed, you pushed him to lie down and sat on him, as Theodore slid the head of his cock at your entrance and thrust it inside your pussy, stretching you with his huge cock.

— Fuck, Theo. Ugh, your cock, it's... so... big, fuck.

You moaned loudly and felt Mattheo's hands slap your ass as he positioned himself behind you, quickly kissing your shoulder and neck and thrusting his cock into your other hole, making you moan louder and look at Draco, who was masturbating beside you. With a look, you made him stand up and stop at the edge of the bed, standing, where you opened your mouth and took his big cock while Mattheo and Theodore were deep inside you.

— Look how they let us fill all your holes.

Theodore moaned as he began to move his hips to fuck you deeper than you thought possible.

— Such a good little slut for us, she takes our cocks so well.

Mattheo moaned with harder, not as fast thrusts as he'd like, but he loved seeing how you were writhing on his and Theo's cocks.

— So well, so good for us.

Draco moaned as your tongue ran along his length, and you took him to the back of your throat.

— Holy shit, what a tight pussy, mi amore.

Nott moaned, placing his hands on your waist and increasing the speed on you, the wet sounds echoed through the muffled room, and the fast rhythm of Nott made you choke on Draco's cock, who placed his hands in your hair, forcing you to suck him again when he was about to cum in your mouth.

— She is the hottest thing in this world, fuck, I could warm my cock in her all night long, fuck.

Mattheo said, and that made your pussy tighten around Theodore's cock, who fucked you like his life depended on it. In a smart move, Mattheo pulled his cock out of your ass and began to jerk off on your butt, cumming along with Draco, who came in your mouth when Mattheo came on your butt, which now bounced harder in Theodore's hands.

— Swallow my cum, princess.

Draco moaned, and you swallowed as he asked, showing your tongue to him along with a smile that was quickly replaced by an open 'O' shape when you felt your orgasm approaching on Theodore's cock.

— I can feel you tightening around me, cum on my cock, make a mess on my cock, princess.

Theodore moaned, and you screamed in ecstasy as you came on Nott's cock, who continued thrusting deep inside you.

— Fuck, Theo. Yes. Ugh, please.

— Can I cum inside you?

He asked, and you bounced harder on his lap.

— Cum inside me, Nott. Fuck, cum all your cum inside me.

You moaned loudly, and as soon as Theo came, you were grabbed by Mattheo, who sarcastically laughed and lifted your butt into the air towards him. His cock was inserted into your pussy, wet from Theo's cum dripping from you, and with a high-pitched moan, you rested your forehead on Theodore's abs, who was panting beneath you. Mattheo thrust a few times roughly into your pussy and then pulled his wet cock out, thrusting it into your ass with force and ease before starting to fuck you hard. You knew he wanted this from the beginning, to torture you.

— You're our slut, baby. So wet, so tight, and fuck, your pussy is as good as your ass.

He moaned and thrust his cock to the base into your anus with force. The first time you did anal, you felt nothing but discomfort, but now, you wanted nothing more than for him to keep fucking you hard.

Mattheo's hands fell on your butt, making him push harder inside you, the extremely wet sound echoed through the room, and your moans were the boys' reason for ecstasy.

— Matty, I can't.

You moaned as your orgasm began to approach, and Mattheo fucked your hole with increasing force.

— Oh, you can, pretty girl, take all my cock, cum on it like you did for Theo and Draco. You can handle it.

He moaned, giving long, deep thrusts inside you.

— Fuck. I'm cumming.

You screamed, and he slapped your ass as he rode you.

— That's it, baby. I'm gonna fucking cum inside you. You like that, huh? Mm-hmm, you like it. You're a slut.

Mattheo moaned and laughed as he felt you tightening around him.

— Suck our boy while you cum, pretty girl.

He commanded, and you bent down to take Theo's cock, which was hitting your face. You took Theo's cock into your mouth and sucked hard while hearing Draco moan and jerk off on you.

Theodore's hands fell on your hair, and you moaned against his cock when Mattheo began to moan and give sloppy thrusts inside you, indicating he was cumming in seconds. The vibration of your mouth on Theodore's cock made the boy cum in your throat, face, and breasts while you came on Riddle's cock, who was pouring his orgasm into you deeply with his cock.

— Take all my orgasm, that's right, take it, good girl.

He moaned, finishing inside you, and at that second, Malfoy came once again on you, making you moan and fall against Theodore, exhausted.

— Fuck. I think I've never been fucked as well as you guys did.

— Let's clean you up, pretty girl.

said while quickly kissing you on the lips with the other boys right behind, placing soft kisses and affectionate words on you. And the best of all for you was...you had fucked them three like a slut but nothing would change between you and them.

-------------

Totally ashamed of what I wrote 😭🤣 I tried to tag the majority who asked, if you didn't want to be here I'm sorry 😭

@feistyfox47

@jrinbb

@samgonecrazy

@littlemadamred

@mynerdcloud

@shaquilles-0atmeal

[teamatsumu]

screenshot. (kita shinsuke x reader)

summary: your friend confesses on your behalf. for my valentine’s day event - theme: confessions.

word count: 1161

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi @sleepyxxhead d @priv-rose @nishayuro @kitas-tapioca @kakashineedstotouchgrass @amisuh @avis-writeshq @samanthaa-leanne @akaashi-todorki @sp1ng @kur0obaby @bleach-your-panties @pinkiipeachiikeen @whippedbel

event masterlist

Many of Kita’s friends and volleyball teammates think he is a stickler for routine. And they are right. But Kita isn’t rigid. He isn’t unchangeable. He accepts a break in routine, takes it in stride, learns from the turning tides and comes back with a smile on his face. Why else would he be the captain of the volleyball team if he didn’t know how to assimilate with rapidly developing circumstances?

Today, he is confronted with another such change. He is staring it right in the face. For a few moments, Kita cannot fathom the sight. How can it be? A red envelope in his locker? Surely, it must not be meant for him.

His next thought is how it got there in the first place. No one besides the volleyball team is allowed in the club room. He is the one who always opens it and he is also the one who locks up every night. Did someone sneak in during practice time?

Nothing else in his locker seems out of place. Just the letter placed delicately on top of the rest of his belongings. Kita finally reaches out for it, tugging on the flap to detach it and pulling out the crisp white paper inside. Kita is halted in his tracks when he realizes that there is no writing on the paper. It’s a print-out. Of a screenshot.

He eyes the text message chain, recognising the small icons on both the sender and receiver’s text bubbles. It’s Suna, his underclassman, and he also recognises you, the manager and his long time best friend.

‘I can’t stand it anymore suna!’

‘then just tell him’

‘u know i cant’

‘thats a u problem’

The next message is long, bordering on a whole paragraph, and Kita’s eyes skim over it. For the first time in a long while, his heart skips.

‘ive known him forever rin. hes such an amazing person and my best friend but he doesn like me that way. if i tell him im just gonna lose him as a friend and id rather we be friends than nothing at all’

The punctuation is atrocious, and the grammar is slightly questionable, but Kita smiles regardless. He carefully folds the paper again, placing it inside the envelope. He closes his locker and continues his evening routine of cleaning up and locking the club room.

Over the next hour as Kita cleans, his thoughts mull over the letter he had just received. The menial nature of the tasks relaxes him, gives him time to mull over this new information. Kita realizes that maybe he isn’t as perceptive as previously thought by his friends.

How can he have not seen that look in your eyes before? Softer than anything and directed only at him, now that he thinks about it. He ponders over your words, the insecurity and negativity behind them. He has never known you to be a negative person. You are endlessly optimistic and full of energy. You are so bright that Kita loves basking in it. He has known you for a very long time, and he is almost affronted that your budding romantic feelings were hidden from him for so long. Especially when Kita has made his courting intentions for you fairly clear.

He has not directly said anything. But he doesn’t think he was ever being discreet. But maybe he has been wrong in his approach. Maybe you hooking your arm with his when you walked to school in the morning, sharing lunches every day, permanently stealing a few of his choice hoodies were all friendly gestures on your part. While Kita has interpreted the gestures as romantic, it seems you have not felt the same heat behind those actions.

Kita has always walked the same route home, sometimes with Aran, sometimes with you, and sometimes on his own. Today he takes the walk alone, but he is not bothered. He has purpose in his mind, the red envelope in his hand, and his feet carry him all the way through the winding streets until he stops at your doorstep.

He smiles at the surprise in your eyes when you receive him at the door. He nearly coos at the fuzzy slippers on your feet, huge and with bunny ears on them, making your feet look twice their usual size. You are so cute. Kita scolds himself lightly, regretting that he had wasted so much time as your friend when maybe he could have spent it with you as his romantic partner. His girlfriend.

It has a nice ring to it, Kita decides.

“Shinsuke?” Your voice breaks his train of thought. The ‘what are you doing here’ is clear in your voice. Your eyes are wide and your face is questioning. There is a tinge of worry on your face, and Kita realizes that showing up unannounced may not have been the best idea. He isn’t sure what is going on in your head, but he quickly tries to quash your worries.

“Everything is fine.” Clear, direct, to the point. It’s Kita being Kita. “I’m here about something I found in my locker while closing up.”

He holds up the red envelope, and when you stare at it in confusion, he proceeds to open it and pull out the white paper. You take it when he offers it to you, unfolding it and reading the letter. If you can call it that.

Kita watches the color drain from your face, notices how the panic overtakes your features as you recognise the conversation printed in front of you. He feels his shoulders slump a little, lamenting the fact that you are truly scared about him finding out. What do you think he will do? Has Kita truly not made his intentions for you clear enough? He cannot help but self loathe in that moment, seeing the state you were in now.

“Shin-”

He doesn’t let you finish.

“If you will allow it, I would like to take you out for dinner this weekend. Will you be free on Saturday?”

You blink once, twice. Your mouth opens and closes. Kita is acutely reminded of a fish. He tries to tamp down his smile.

“R-really?”

He merely nods.

Slowly, life reinjects into your face. You seem to age in reverse before his very eyes. Your grip on the letter crinkles the paper slightly, and Kita reaches out to gently pry it from your hands and smooth it out. He stays quiet as you process his words. He thinks of hugging you, maybe even kissing you. But stops himself. Those are moments he will reserve for after your first date, after he has properly given you the best date of your dreams. So he keeps his eyes on the letter.

“Remind me to thank Suna for this letter.” He comments. “I must say, it’s the strangest confession letter I have ever received.”

There is a pause.

“You’ve received other confession letters?!”