#that and also I’ve noticed there’s some cult of Personality type shit happening too in the self ship community but I don’t think people

[malewifehenrycooldown]

Slightly long, ramble vent-ish post but also some negative observations of the wider self ship community that has been bothering me a little bit.

sometimes I don’t want to be in the self ship community anymore (not that I considered myself part of it from the beginning) because said the community creates these small pocket communities of the same people interacting with each other and that’s fair and totally fine!

It’s just that up to a certain point, these pocket communities start to create an isolating and alien environment for newcomers and this is not helped by the community’s genuinely bad communication skills. Like I genuinely wonder how many blogs have deactivated due to lack of interactivity (a whole can of worms no one likes talking about apparently. HI REBLOG:LIKE RATIO) and the overwhelmingly intimidating environment for younger folks (teens - early 20s) to navigate, especially people who may not be as critical or conscious of the media they consume (and don’t understand how they could be harming people through consuming specific pieces of fiction). I remember one person straight up left due to the lack of communication and it really, really sucks because just an open conversation can really ease peoples fears and worries. People just should not have to feel like walking on eggshells all the damn time in the community and if they feel that way then there is something SEVERELY WRONG with this community but no one cares to address it

Like I’ve already left a few self discord servers, and blocked some users, and now I just don’t see any point really being in the community anymore, because there’s been multiple occasions when I’ve interacted with a user and then it turns out that said user probably has some personal issues they need to sort out, but constantly deflect blame or disregard anyone’s advice to change their actions/attitudes for the better or that they really need to get actual professional help. Like obviously we should call out bad behaviour but also know that you should encourage these people to change saidd behaviours for the better.

Idk maybe I’m cursed on tumblr to interact with people who turn out to be not that great or I’m just too naive because I believe that people are inherently good. Maybe I’m a fool for wanting to see the good in people and wanting to support them, all at the cost of me ignoring all the red flags that are obviously in front of me. Which to be fair is probably reasonable; fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame on me for not knowing better I should have heeded the red flags when I saw them. /serious

[mercy-burning]

Second Nature

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Reader share some realizations after one of them has been kidnapped. Category: FLUFF + ADDITIONAL SMUT ENDING (18+) Warnings: Language, brief mentions of kidnapping and injury, bruising, sex (penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk, lowkey hand kink—i’m not sorry) Word Count: 6.1k

Full Request: “...Congratulations on your 1k! I have  request for your celebration, if possible. Spencer/Fem Reader. Post prison Spencer, instead of him being taken by the cult, the reader is, making hi realize that she’s Love of life and they get together. Smut,preferred, if possible. Thank you.” — @dreatine 

NOTE: I had a little conversation with @ssa-m-187 about a post which discussed that trope where Person A caresses Person B’s cheek, and then Person A leans into their touch and holds their arm to keep them there for comfort.. I mentioned that I might add it into one of my requests, and this is where it ended up! 😂❤

I also decided to add an alternate/additional smut ending in case anyone wanted only the fluff. It will be clearly marked when the smut starts if you choose not to read it!

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

Nothing bad ever happened to her. Spencer wished that was an exaggeration but it wasn't. In all the years he'd known Y/N, she was never kidnapped, no one she loved ever got kidnapped, and she never even got sick. Her moods were always visibly happy, no one had ever seen her with so much as a sprained ankle, and even bad hair days always seemed to escape her grasp.

So naturally, when she got taken by Ben's Believers, it came as no shock that Spencer was losing his mind.

Everyone kept telling him that they'd get her back, and that they all knew what to do, but it didn't stop the sinking feeling that weighed his heart down, far away from the surface where she was safe and waiting for him.

Guess it's safe to say, this whole situation stirred up some feelings he hadn't even known existed.

The first thing that came to his mind, aside from the initial shock of her being gone, was the first moment they met.

Y/N and Ashley Seaver had both been added to the team around the same time, and after losing Emily, the three of them had practically become inseparable. But that first meeting, the very second he laid eyes on her, it was something purely magical.

She was trying to open a jar of pickles in the break room, breathy and aggravated curses spilling from her mouth as if she were a sailor.

"Do you need any help?" Spencer asked, not intending to scare her.

But alas, she jumped, dropping the jar of pickles and causing it to shatter everywhere. "Shit!"

He offered to help clean it up, and she accepted, sighing about how everything she had was going to smell like pickles for at least a week. And once everything was picked up, she grabbed a pickle that had landed on the counter and took a bite, promptly saying, "Well, at least I got it open," with a mouth-full of pickle. "Thanks for scaring me, bud."

It was amusing to say the least.

And every time they'd gone out for food since then, Spencer made sure to order something with a pickle every time, just so he could offer it to her and hear her laugh about that day. Every time, she mirrored that moment, taking a bite and saying, "Thanks, bud."

Of course, back then he hadn't realized he did it because he liked her. He just thought it was nice to see her smile, to hear her laugh. That's what friends did, right? Made each other laugh?

That's what kept him going as they searched high and low for answers to get her back. Her laugh. It was there, replaying on a loop in his brain as if he could ever forget it.

And when he got her back, he vowed to make sure he made her laugh for the rest of time.

When they knew where to find Y/N, Spencer made it his mission to be the one who got her out of there. He wanted to be the one she saw when she was being rescued. He wanted to be the one who made sure she was finally safe again and out of harm's way.

And most importantly he wanted to tell her that he loved her. And he didn't want to spend another day without being next to her.

But first he had to get her out of there.

The second he saw her, it was like everything moved in slow motion. She was strapped to some type of mechanism that kept her hands at her sides and her head facing forward. And despite the fact that she'd never been held hostage, she looked very calm. She looked like exactly what the cult wanted her to be: a sacrifice.

It made Spencer's stomach churn. And it felt even worse when they moved in. Because everyone was getting down, and the cult leader jumped for Y/N, striking to kill.

The gunshot stunned him. He stopped in his tracks, hoping and praying that she wouldn't be hurt, and for one final time before he actually moved, he replayed her laugh in his mind. He briefly held on to the image of Y/N smiling at him without a care in the world before he inevitably saw her face to face for the first time in days, most likely without said smile.

But of course, the second it was safe and he ran to her side, she looked up at him and smiled anyway.

As Emily got the final restraints off of her, Spencer took a huge sigh of relief and welcomed Y/N into his embrace.

"Hey, bud," she breathed into his neck, letting him squeeze her tightly. He could practically feel her smile burning into his skin, tattooing itself there for all the world to see, and he squeezed her tighter, thinking of how he wouldn't have it any other way.

They clung to one another the whole plane ride home, curled up into each other and falling asleep after all the stress they'd been under. And it was no surprise to anyone that they even held hands while they did.

Y/N dreamt of him the entire time.

Specifically, she was remembering the day she almost quit. It would have surprised anyone to know she'd felt that way considering she never let her bad days show. But in those particular few months, she had really missed her family—and Ashley,—the cases were getting more and more stressful, and it all seemed to really take a toll on her emotionally.

But that one fateful day, she walked into the round table room, expecting to find no one since she always showed up early, and instead she found Spencer with a large wicker basket.

"What are you doing here so early?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled shyly. "Oh, um... I know your birthday was last week, and I feel bad I missed it since I was visiting my mom, so... I wanted to celebrate with you when we had a little bit of time."

He handed her the basket, and she marveled at all its contents, ranging from a few of her favorite books in different copies she hadn't owned, an array of her favorite candies, and most exciting, a jar of pickles.

"Oh, before you break the jar, I have something else for you," he said with a small laugh, pulling something out of his jacket pocket. "I've read that these are good for helping you open jars, and I even got myself one because we all know you're way stronger than me, so if you can't open a jar of pickles, I probably couldn't either..."

She would never know this, but in that moment he was kicking himself for being so awkward, even though the two of them had been friends for years. And he'd never know, but she hadn't even recognized it as awkward. She was incredibly thankful and endeared by his thinking of her, and it was the one thing that made her realize she could never quit her job.

She loved him too much too leave.

So she didn't. That morning she'd been planning on telling everyone her plans to find another job somewhere else, maybe closer to her family, and that night she walked out of the office feeling loved and thankful for her friends, and one friend in particular.

Currently, said friend was sitting quietly in the parking lot of her apartment while she dug up the courage to ask him inside for the night. Her plans consisted of sleeping in for as long as she needed thanks to a well-deserved few days off of work, and though Spencer would most likely return earlier, she desperately hoped she could convince him to stay.

It was quiet for a while and the lights in the car had long since turned off, leaving them in darkness as well as silence. Despite that fact, it wasn't eerie in the slightest... It was comfortable.

Even more so when Y/N reached over and grabbed his hand.

And then she spoke.

"Can... Can you stay? I'm fine, I promise, I just... I could really use some company, you know?"

"Of course," he answered almost too quickly. It made her laugh, and though it was small, he felt a weight lift off his chest at the sound.

The two of them walked up to her apartment in more of that comfortable, dark silence. The only light source to be found was within the dim lights of the hallway, though they'd made the walk so many times it was like second nature.

That familiarity followed them through her doorway, Y/N taking off her jacket and instinctively handing it over with her to-go bag, where Spencer's arms were already outstretched. He took them and removed his shoes, then transported their belongings to the chair in the corner of her living room, maybe five or six steps ahead from the entryway.

Y/N took a large breath and smiled as she flipped on the lights.

Spencer noticed, turning to her with a smile of his own. "Good to be home?"

"Mhm," she responded with a nod. "But you know what would make it even better?"

The knowing smile they shared brought warmth to her chest as he made his way to the kitchen, saying, "Peppermint hot chocolate, coming right up."

As her best friend made noise in the kitchen, Y/N padded over to her couch, flipping on the table lamp next to it and sitting down with an over-exaggerated humph. Her legs curled off to the side as she leaned against the armrest, taking a deep breath and breathing in the warm comfort of home, only amplified a little while later by the aroma of soft peppermint.

She could hear Spencer humming quietly to himself in the kitchen, the sound bringing a smile to her face. He always absentmindedly hummed her favorite song when he was making them food or something to drink, or even when they were just hanging out together in comfortable silence. She wondered often if he ever sang it to himself when he was alone.

And she was going to ask, but before she got the chance, he came up behind her with two mugs of hot chocolate. She took hers gladly with a smile that perfectly matched the warmth of the mug. And while she took the first sip as he walked around the couch and took his regular spot on the cushion next to hers, that warmth spread to her chest. She sunk into the couch as her eyes fluttered closed.

Beside her she could hear Spencer laugh. "That good, huh?"

"You're an expert hot chocolate maker, don't let anyone tell you any different."

Another laugh came from him, and the sound bought warmth to other places.

They sipped their hot chocolate together, once again basked in silence that was only disrupted by the distinct ticking of Y/N's cuckoo clock, a Christmas gift from Spencer one year after she'd mentioned how much she was oddly fascinated by them. It sat on the wall across from them, next to the TV and right above a DVD rack with her favorite movies. She stared at the clock fondly as she drank her way through the hot chocolate, and Spencer did the same.

Eventually they were out, and once their mugs were placed on either side table, they found themselves turning to each other with more of that second nature pulling them together like the moon pulling the ocean. Once their knees touched it was like the ocean dragged them under, only rather than suffocating, they found themselves breathing easier, like they were finally at peace.

The clock rung out, and only after it finished echoing did Spencer initiate conversation. He examined the bruise right under her eye, and once again the gravitational pull was too much, his hand reaching out to touch it with curiosity as well as concern. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need some ice or anything?" he asked softly.

Y/N felt her heart stutter at the featherlight touch of his fingertips, and despite herself, she blushed. "No, I'm okay. Better now that I'm home. With you."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers at her words, and the softness and genuine relief he found in them made him melt.

He moved to take his hand away, but Y/N reached up and gently grabbed his wrist, bringing it back to her face pacing his palm firmly against the whole surface of her cheek. He watched lovingly as she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand further, bringing her hand to wrap around his forearm and hold him there. And in that moment, he had to wonder if she could hear the loud, intense beating of his heart as it drowned out the clock's ticking.

"I... I was so scared," Y/N whispered, keeping her eyes closed. "I mean... In the back of my mind I knew you guys would come for me, but... That was... my first time ever being in a hostage situation by myself, let alone at all, and I..." She paused, stumbling on her words before exhaling a breathy laugh. "Those people were creepy."

Spencer laughed with her, his hand still resting on her face. When she finally did open her eyes again, she looked up at him through her eyelashes, and in that moment she looked so soft and vulnerable that he couldn't help but finally tell the truth.

In a whisper so soft she almost didn't hear it, he confessed, "I was so afraid that I lost you..."

"Yeah, but... You found me," she returned with a smile as she nuzzled into his hand further. "You always do."

Something in the way she said it made him bolder, and he realized then that that's what she always did.

She strengthened him, made him more bold and determined... And she gave him something to hold onto when he was lost. When things felt impossible, Y/N always said the one thing that put him back together and made him feel whole again, whether it was a few sentences, or in this case three little words: "You always do."

Completing him was her second nature, something he wasn't even sure she was aware of.

But now that he knew, he had to tell her.

"Y/n..." Spencer traced his thumb along the underside of her bottom lip, and he could have swore he felt her sigh out. He stayed paused, reveling in the way he seemed to have an effect on her, his thumb longing to slide further and trace her entire mouth.

Nevertheless, he continued. "You are... Everything to me. And I don't tell you very often how much your friendship means to me, but I... I can't keep going forward without you knowing just how much I care about you. Really, it..." He huffed a laugh, hoping he wasn't making an utter fool of himself and that she wouldn't push him away at this confession that was dying to escape. "It's embarrassing how much I love you."

He couldn't tell if it was exhaustion taking hold of him, or the relief he felt at finally getting that off his chest, but he held his breath as he studied her eyes, which were glassy like she was on the verge of tears. Her grip around his forearm tightened and she turned, kissing the inside of his palm and keeping her lips pressed there for what felt like forever, until he started to feel his skin go numb. Realistically he knew it was only a trick on the brain, how such a simple affectionate gesture like that had the most heart-swelling and mind-numbing effects on him because of how much he loved her.

But damn it, he didn't care.

She murmured his name into his palm, and her eyes flicked up to meet his again. That's when he noticed a tear fall from her eye and down her cheek, right into the side of his thumb.

Finally, she responded, "I love you, too, Spencer. I... I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to tell you, but... After what just happened, I don't know if I could ever spend another day without loving you."

His heart absolutely burst at the seams, warmer than before, and most certainly not from the hot chocolate. That warmth only spread, turning into a raging wildfire when she let go of his hand and moved forward, practically tackling him and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him and pressing her face to the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around her back, hugging her close as she straddled him and continued to nuzzle into his skin, his presence...

They held each other like that for a good minute before Y/N finally gained the courage to pull back and look into his eyes. They were just as glassy as hers, just as filled with love and comfort and home as she could ever have dreamed. Her hands slid down to rest on his shoulders for a moment before one of them cradled his face.

And then she kissed him.

She knew he loved her, he told her as much, but in case this was already going too far, Y/N kept it light and hesitant, desperately hoping it wouldn't make things weird.

But of course, there was nothing to worry about. And Spencer showed her that as his lips pressed deeper into hers, his hands on her back pushing her closer to him and seeking as much contact as possible.

She brought both of her hands to gently run through his hair, and at the sigh he let out against her mouth, Y/N tugged harder, pulling herself up so she could get into a better, more comfortable position on his lap.

They shared peppermint hot chocolate kisses until the clock rung out again, both of them pulling away with a little surprise.

"Has it really been an hour since it last went off?" Y/N mused in a whisper, taking in the swollen state of Spencer's mouth. The sight sent a course of butterflies through her stomach.

"I guess it has... It's um... It's late, maybe we should get some sleep."

"Only if you come with me," Y/N offered, running her fingers through his hair once more.

Spencer nodded with a small smile, his thumb tracing the bottom of her chin. "Of course."

They pulled themselves off the couch and, hand-in-hand, navigated their way to her bedroom. And even though they'd never actually done it before, sleeping in her bedroom together, the whole journey was so familiar it was like they'd done it a million times over.

SMUT ENDING BELOW

Y/N didn't know what time it was, only that the sun was brightly peeking through her sheer curtains, basking her bedroom in a warm glow that made it almost impossible to be comfortable under the covers. When she moved to take them off of her, she felt a hand snake around her waist, pressing firmly against her lower stomach and holding her in place.

"Are you awake?" she asked aloud to the air, softly in case Spencer was, in fact, still asleep.

"Mhm," he mumbled behind her, his breath softly fanning out across her shoulder. "Have been for about an hour."

"You could have woke me up," she said, turning around to face him. His hand lifted and then settled on her shoulder when she was in position.

"You deserved the rest," is all he offered in explanation as his hand gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. It tickled as it fell behind her, dropping off her body and across the back of her neck. Spencer trailed his fingers lightly up her neck until they reached her ear, and then he trailed them back down and over the curve of her shoulder, and then down her arm. He continued this and smiled as he took notice of the goosebumps that formed all over her skin. The thin tank top she'd changed into before bed left most of her exposed, each little freckle and hair that adorned her skin on display in the warm sunlight.

Meanwhile she smiled, heat slowly rising to her cheeks as she recalled their kisses on the couch. Needless to say, her dreams that night were rather scandalous, something she wasn't unfamiliar with, though given these new circumstances she was more than a little hot right now.

Spencer noticed, his hand halting its movement on her skin and resting itself on her waist over the blanket. "You're thinking about it, too? Last night?"

Y/N looked him in the eye and swore she saw them dilate when she responded. "Yeah. Among other things..."

"What... kind of other things?"

She would have told him, but since it was obvious they were both feeling the heat she bit her lip instead, a teasing look in her eye. "You're a smart man. You tell me."

"What if I... show you instead?" he whispered, his voice broken and obviously a little shocked that this was finally going to happen.

"Take it away, Doc."

His first kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the first one they shared on the couch, and his second was a little deeper. Y/N gave her stamp of approval by sighing, bringing a hand up to play with his hair again, and it was the trigger that shot him forward, his lips working hers with more passionate, methodical precision. Meanwhile his hand dipped under the covers and pressed firmly at her back, slipping under her shirt and bringing her closer.

She wrapped her leg over his waist, pulling herself forward to get as much contact as she could while he swiped over her bottom lip with his tongue. The small whimper she let out at his kisses made his hips buck forward involuntarily, to which Y/N clenched her leg tighter around his waist and tugged a little harder at his hair.

He tipped them over then, rolling so that he was hovering over her while their kisses only grew needier. His hand slipped under her shirt, feeling the expanse of her stomach and her sides. The low hum that came from her throat at his touches drove him half wild, so he boldened them, slowly sliding up and up until he reached her bare breasts. Her legs came out immediately and hooked themselves around the back of his thighs as she whined at his touch.

With curious kneads of her chest and even more exploratory kisses that were reciprocated with an equal hunger and passion, it didn't take long for Spencer to feel his insides churn with a desire that could possibly never be satiated. Even if Y/N was the one who kept him whole, he also knew she would be the one to completely wreck him to pieces. He'd rarely ever felt this type of desire before, especially not towards someone who took up every crack and crevice of his mind at any given moment. And now that he had it, he never wanted to let it go. She was going to utterly ruin him, and he'd never been more welcoming to that type of damnation—the type that was also his salvation.

Because she was everything all at once, devastatingly beautiful in every imaginable way.

Her hands tugged at his tee shirt, punctuating her urgency with a needy little whine into his mouth. He pulled back then, tugging off his shirt at the expense of taking his hands away from her. But from his higher position now, he took her in in all her wild glory, lips swollen and a little red, hair splayed out across the pillows, and her breathing visibly heavy. Even with the bruise under her eyes, she was the most breathtaking person he'd ever seen. She marveled up at him, willing her gaze to trail down his chest and stomach, her bottom lip tucking itself gently between her teeth as she stared at where his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

Y/N reached out and grazed her middle finger across the waistband of his pants, gently feeling the fabric and his skin at the same time. He was still, continuing to watch her explore his body the way he'd done hers, always amazed at the curious look in her eye— the one that was now swimming in a pool of lust. Her hand trailed upwards, feeling the soft planes of his torso until she couldn't reach any higher.

"Having fun?" Spencer mused with a smile as she rested both her hands on either side of his waist.

She sat up then, pressing a kiss to his neck while her hands travelled south, under the waistband of his pants. He sucked in a breath as she palmed him through his underwear, gently nipping his shoulder before she answered. "Oh, I'm having so much fun."

He was going to say something, but words escaped him as she sat up on her knees and continued tracing the outline of his dick through his underwear. He was painfully hard in an instant, a fact at which Y/N gave a low, amused laugh. Once she found the underside of his tip, she gently rubbed it through the fabric with her thumb, and the broken whine that he let out delighted her in every way. Her tongue traced his collarbone and the contours of his shoulders and neck until she reached his jawline. She licked him there too, humming as her thumb worked faster at his dick.

"Mmm, I've wanted this for so long," she told him softly, bringing her lips up to his ear. "Do you know how many times I've thought about us? Dreamed about us?"

"Not as many as me, probably," he choked out with a small laugh, audibly trying to keep it together as his stomach burned with every languid stroke of her thumb over his most sensitive point.

Y/N returned his laugh and sensually kissed his jaw before saying, "I doubt that." Then she dragged her mouth up to his lips and brought her hand out of his pants so she could thread all her fingers through his hair. Though they were kneeling, he was still taller than her, so his hard erection pressed firmly against her stomach as he brought her closer, gripping her hips and melting into her.

When his right hand slipped into her sleep shorts, she whined out and pressed herself harder against him, reveling in the way the heat from his hand practically burned into her ass. He kneaded her there as well, groaning into her mouth when she tugged on his hair and turned her head to deepen their kiss.

It was obvious that she was trying to feel some type of friction— her knees were willing her to get up higher, to feel him hard against her, but alas she wasn't able to reach. She showed her frustration by whining into his mouth and trying to pull herself up, the pressure of her arms around his neck getting stronger with every passing second.

"Spencer pulled away laughing a little, removing his hand from her shorts and bringing it to the front, dragging along the inside of her thigh. "Is there something you want from me, pretty girl?"

The nickname sent a fire through her veins that set off every smoke detector in her brain, the alarm coming out in the form of a whimper. "I want to feel you inside me," she whispered, nuzzling her nose to his and reaching down to guide his hand farther up. When his middle finger breached the fabric of her shorts, she whimpered again, willing herself closer to him. "Please, Spencer."

He hummed lowly, drawing circles into her skin. "Are you prepared? Like, do you... have condoms or anything, do we need one?"

"I have some in my top drawer if you want me to get it," she said quickly with a nod.

He laughed a little, amused at her eagerness, before pulling away from her and helping her off the bed. Once she was feet-first on the ground, she strode over to the dresser where she opened a small drawer on the top left and rummaged through it. Meanwhile Spencer followed her and came up behind her, pressing his front to her backside and making her tense. He brushed her hair aside and brought his lips to her neck, his hands resting at her waist.

She slowly rolled her hips against him, sighing out when his hands gripped her tighter. One of them slipped down into her shorts again, this time coming around front and resting over her clothed pussy. His fingers explored her like hers had explored him, teasing her in the same way that made her want to burst into flames.

"So wet already, pretty girl..." he mused, sighing and attacking her neck with more kisses. "I bet I'll be able to just slide right in..."

She outwardly moaned this time, clutching a condom in her hand and then slamming the drawer shut. "Alright then, Mr. PhD, why don't you put that theory to the test?"

He loved how eager she was, and a little impatient. Something told him that if he teased her enough, she might have just begged him for anything. But he didn't want to do that right now. No, right now he was planning on showing the love of his life just how much she meant to him. He was going to give her everything he had, and then some.

So he turned her around and kissed her, walking them backwards until his legs hit the foot of the bed. He almost went down, but before he could, he turned them around again. Y/N's body hit the bed, her legs immediately opening for him to stand between them. Rather than leaning down to kiss her again though, Spencer ran his hands tugged lightly at her shorts, to which Y/N gladly lifted her hips and allowed him to pull them off. Her underwear weren't too far behind, and then she lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it aside and leaning back on her elbows.

Seeing her fully bare like this was enough to drive him mad, but he held on, spreading her knees apart and sliding his hands along the insides of her thighs. "Y/N, you're perfect..." As he marveled at her and showered her with love and praise, he slid his hands further and further up her body until they reached her arms.

She helped him remove his pants and underwear, and once they were off, Y/N tore open the condom and handed it to him. He rolled it on and then leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. Then her temple, then her cheek... Then he pressed the softest kiss to her lips and looked her in the eyes. "You really want to?"

She smiled at him and nodded, bringing one of his hands to her entrance and pressing his fingers to the wetness that pooled there. "You feel how bad I want it?"

He groaned and kissed her then, circling his middle finger over her clit and making her cry out against him. After a few more seconds of this, Spencer positioned them at the head of the bed and angled his hips forward, the head of his dick coming in contact with her pussy.

He slid in slowly, reveling in every pure, blissful second that went by as he gradually became completely enveloped in her. Once he was buried to the hilt, Y/N threw her head back and bit her lip, her hands reaching out to play with his hair again. He ground himself into her for a few seconds before pulling back and then starting a slow, steady rhythm.

"God, Y/N, you feel so good... So... perfect for me."

"Funny, I was just going to say the same thing about you," she breathed. Her eyes trained themselves on his, and though there was a lot of love there, she saw something else that she recognized, something hesitant. It was close to the same look he gave her last night, after she'd explained to him that she was fine after he examined her injury.

He was going easy on her. But she wanted more.

Y/N reached up to tug his hair gently, biting her lip and batting her eyes. "I'm not made of glass you know... You can fuck me harder if you want to."

Everything from the look on her face to the way she said it to the way she clenched around him as she did made him half feral. He smirked at her without thinking, a natural reaction to her challenge. "Oh, you like it a little rough, huh?"

She smirked back at him and nodded, tugging his hair harder. "Uh huh."

Though he started fucking into her harder, his pace remained slow,  accentuating each rough thrust with a huff through his nose. Y/N's mouth opened involuntarily, the power of his movements rendering her almost speechless. Eventually though, she let out one large moan as her fingers even further tightened their grip in Spencer's hair.

Taking note of her reactions, he felt pleased with himself. "You like that, don't you, pretty girl? You like it hard and deep..."

Her hands dropped from his head and rested at the sheets, gripping them instead as he worked his hips a little faster. "Y—yes, baby, I fucking love how hard you fuck me."

The words tumbled out of their mouths so easily, each syllable spoken with the right amount of lust and truth, it was like their conversation was a dance. Their bodies and their words melded together in a perfect number that brought them further towards the climax.

But, as every dance does, their needed a little flourish.

Spencer reached out and caressed her cheek again, his thumb going straight to her lips. Y/N opened her mouth and sucked it in, swirling her tongue around it and groaning at the way he bit his lip when she did so.

"Fuck, pretty girl, you're gonna ruin me if you keep that up."

She smiled at his words, which allowed him to press his thumb flat down onto her tongue. Her mouth remained open as he held it there, her pants and moans coming out clear as day. And as if that wasn't hot enough, she batted her eyelashes up at him, and he fucked her even faster, both of them starting to feel the signs of impending orgasm.

He could have kept his thumb in her mouth forever, but to aid her in pleasure, he removed it, dragging it down her chin before bringing it to her clit and rubbing in tight circles.

"Fuck, Spence, that's it," Y/N moaned, looking down between their bodies and almost losing it at the sight that beheld her. "Don't stop, don't fucking stop!"

He leaned forward to kiss her then, the new angle finally bringing her over the edge. She cried out into his mouth as it explored her own, soaking up all the sounds she made and using them to fuel his own release.

They came together, and it felt  like years of tension and anticipation and love finally culminated into one giant explosion that enveloped them whole. It felt like, for a moment, nothing else in the world existed, only Spencer, Y/N, and their palpable connection that felt very much like a home in and of itself.

Even as they came down, their breathing slowing down and their touches becoming gentler, that explosion quieted right alongside them, an echo of love and warmth lingering in its wake.

Spencer pulled out and laid beside her, reaching out and gently touching the bruise under her eye. "You okay?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Yes. I'm more than okay... I'm perfect."

He smiled at her, pure, true comfort settling in his bones. It was a rare feeling, but he was glad that it came with her presence. "Me, too. And I... I meant what I said last night, Y/N, I... I love you. More than words could accurately describe."

Her heart swelled at his words. "I love you, too, bud. More than anything in the world."

He contemplated for a minute, a smile forming as he said his next words. "More than pickles?"

Y/N threw her head back in a boisterous laugh that made Spencer's heart beat a little faster, before playfully hitting his harm and snuggling up next to him. "Yes, definitely more than pickles."

"Good. That would have been embarrassing."

"I don't love you more than peppermint hot chocolate, though. Or that cuckoo clock."

Spencer pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, but I got you those things, so technically that means you have to love me at least as much as them..."

"Okay. That's fair, I'll give you that one."

With an over-exaggerated, "Phew," Spencer smiled and pulled her closer, the warm sunlight from the windows giving him the most clear view of their legs tangled together over her lavender-colored comforter. It was so domestic, so perfect and loving and real that he never wanted to forget it.

He was thankful that he never would.

***

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[black-rose-writings]

Reading Siege and Storm because I hate myself

To begin, I’d like to state that this is my first read-through and I only have vague idea of the plot I’ve gathered from fanfics and tumblr posts.

Long post ahead

Chapter 1

So... at first I was like - huh, this isn’t as bad as I thought, but the moment Alina gets introspective, it all goes to hell.

Like, she’s being physically made sick by not using her powers, which is making her feel useless - like, she says, pretty much verbatim: “The only thing I was ever good at was being a Sun Summoner and I’m not that anymore.”

I’m gonna beat those paragraphs over the head of anyone, who says Alina got a good ending.

I’ve also noticed just how often the like “I pushed that thought away” is used and more often than not, it’s used on thoughts that should probably not be pushed away.

Ah, yes, here he comes, my boy Darkles, being the dramatic bitch he always is. We get it, you’re the hot villain, tempting the good and pure heroine away from being good and pure.

And I’m just now realizing how many times in this chapter has Alina lamented their lack of privacy. We have to ensure the reader doesn’t hink she’s *gasp* sleeping with Mal.

Chapter 2

What?

Alina is tripping balls while being put under by a Heartrender, got it.

Darkling is being the voice of reason, but I’m getting the distinct feeling it won’t last.

Ivan gets one point, because Alina is in fact a traitor, but he’s also being a cunt, so it doesn’t really count.

Alina at Sturmhond: Do you even care about Ravka?

Me at Alina: Do you?

Chapter 3

“Mermaids are not real”. I’m pretty sure they are in the Grishaverse.

My boy Darkles is still making sense, but Alina is dedicated to being against him just for the hell of it, it seems.

Did this bitch just throw a tantrum, because he told her, what we can assume is the truth? Okay. Like, I get that she’s at best 18, but still. Not exactly the type of protagonist whose head I like being in.

And in that moment, dozens of smut fics were born.

Chapter 4

Wow, that was quick.

Aaand. What had just happened?

Chapter 5

Sturmhond is a funny bitch, I’ll give him that.

And this entire conversation, it seems like Mal’s entire purpose is to stand behind Alina threateningly and repeat what she said, lol.

I’d like to remind Alina (and LB) that a king in an absolutist monarchy (which is what Ravka appears to be) is very much a tyrant. Don’t make it sound like Ravka didn’t have a tyrant before. And at the very least, my boy Darkles seems pretty competent.

A man calling himself a Storm Dog likes dogs. No shit.

Chapter 6

I hate Mal. Dude, this is your girlfriend, maybe like... listen to her? Don’t bludgeon her with the one other guy she was kinda-sorta with, when you are a well known manwhore?

I don’t know man, I don’t like him.

Everyone: You can’t have more than one amplifier, it’s dangerous.

Alina: Haha, sparkles go brrrr

Chapter 7

In other news, pirates are funny.

Holy shit, they have a plane.

That was... a lot. And we’re crossing the Fold again, yay.

Chapter 8

You feel bad for the Volcra but not for the people you’ve left for dead in the Fold last time? Okay.

Baby Volcra. Am I supposed to say “ew” or “aww”? If I tried doing both at the same time, it would probably sound like one.

Jesus fucking Christ this book is a ride.

Did Alina really just have an “oh no, he’s hot?” moment? *sighs*

Puppy boy has a title longer than Daenerys, jesus.

Alina, my dear, you could have waited for a bit before doing that. There’s like thirty soldier with guns around you and you’ve just punched a prince.

Then again, you’ve never been smart, have you?

Chapter 9

For once, I completely agree with him. I know you two have lost your one shared braincell on that first crossing of the Fold but still, that was very dumb of you, Alina.

I’m starting to get why people were calling Nikolai “Darkling light”. Definitelly seems appropriate.

Mal, calm the fuck down, that was the least romantic proposal I’ve ever heard and you know it.

You two didn’t even let Alina get a word in for the last page. What right do you have to her, Mal, huh? Nikolai is making sense and you’re being an idiot.

What’s your deal Mal? What the fuck do you want?

And why in the hell are you the endgame love interest?

That’s an awful lot of guilt-tripping you’re doing there, Mal. No need to be pissy about it.

Chapter 10

The bones thing is definitelly yikes.

Saints, Mal, are you on your period or something? Alina doesn’t belong to you. Alina can make her own choices. Get a grip.

“You think I’m like the Darkling?” Yes. The Darkling isn’t all bad. You’re at war. No need to get your panties in a twist over a few fingers.

Oh, look, Alina has a cult now, nice.

Chapter 11

Your “dad” is a rapist, Nikolai. Quite possibly a pedo. He got exactly what he deserved.

I’d go for the second option. Especially after that stunt. Jesus, you could have asked her beforehand.

At least Darkles had the decency to make out with her in private.

Also like... why is every single person in this series so far an asshole?

Chapter 12

We meet the King again, unfortunately.

Alina gets Darkles’s old job.

This should be a total disaster, but let’s see where it goes anyway.

Chapter 13

Alina’s nuts, yay.

(I know they have a Force-bond-thingy. I also know they did it before Reylo did.)

Chapter 14

Oh boy, Alina’s not doing as bad as I thought.

For the 100th time in this book, I wish I had Nikolai’s confidence. Though it is getting a bit too much.

Puppy boy is dropping some truth bombs. Nice.

But he doesn’t realize that my boy Darkles has very good reasons to not align with Fjerdans - a) they think he’s a demon and b) they want Grisha dead.

I’m not gonna say she was, but like... the monarchy is very much corrupt.

Oh, boy, Baghra. This one’s gonna go well.

Yep, Baghra’s as pleasant as ever.

So... Baghra’s plan in book 1 really had been to just have Alina run away and hope for the best? Jesus Christ, lady. I’m not saying she deserved to have her eyes taken away, but she is definitelly a trash person and I’m not surprised her son turned out the way he did.

Also, I’m fairly certain that Baghra is literally slowly killing herself - that the reason she looks so old and frail is because she’s started to supress her power and it’s literally killing her, because, you know, she’s bonkers old.

Chapter 15

Nerd Alina > Self-pitying Alina

Also, I’m just saying, Alina comments on Zoya being attractive a whole lot - I get that she’s meant to be insecure, but I’m interpreting it as her being gay, because I need some happiness in my life, okay?

Just kill the sleazy old Rasputin-wanna-be. There’s plenty of them to go around in this series.

Chapter 16

Vasily takes after his father in creep factor.

Why not the Darkling being courted by a horny prince? Be a bit creative.

Chapter 17

Nikolai has big ADHD energy and I love him for it. Fits right in with the heavily autism-coded Fabricators.

*sighs at heteronormativity again*

*sighs at improper gendering of titles*

Date night with Mal. This is gonna be a disaster, isn’t it?

Chapter 18

Fun night of cultural appropriation, yay.

I hate cultists.

LET. ALINA. GO. FERAL. Please.

You two are going to give me a headache, I swear.

Darkles cockblocking Alina. And Malice threw a tantrum. Nice.

Chapter 19

You’re way too harsh on Genya, Alina.

Horny Alina rights.

They have a laser, now. Cool. Or, well, enormously hot.

Mal is being a drunk a-hole. Great. When does he become likable? Does he ever?

Banter between Mal and Alina? Kinda weird, always somehow comes back to either of them being insecure.

Banter between Alina and Nikolai? I’m all for it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a Darklina trash, but like... Nikolai is fun. I could see him and Alina having an arranged political marriage and ending up falling in love years into it, that’s all I’m saying.

Chapter 20

Just let this one go, Alina, please. You two are not working out. Please, end it with him. You’ll both probably be happier. (I’m saying this with the full knowledge that Malina is endgame).

Jesus Alina, get your shit together. You have every right to be mad, because you two didn’t actually break up, you didn’t kiss Nikolai and also, I don’t like Mal.

Sooo... when is Alina going to realize her manchild of a boyfriend is an amplifier?

Chapter 21

Alina has the horny sickness, lol.

Jesus Christ, girl, I don’t want to read your vaguely suicidal thoughts.

Mal, you fucking idiot.

Alina, stop defending Mal.

Chapter 22

Alina has a logical thought? Impossible.

Finally, some action.

Chapter 23

Oh, boi, this is going great.

Oh, boi, Alina’s having another martyr moment.

And, we’re done.

Finally.

That was a ride. Nothing really happens for like ten chapters and then everything happens in one and a half.

[michals]

Can i please kindly request something with klaus and diego? ✨

Klaus is being antisocial, which is strange for him, but then again no one seems to have noticed. This one time though he’ll let it go, everyone’s got a lot on their minds these days what with the whole world being rearranged. So he’s hunkered down on the fire escape outside of the run down boarding house Allison rumored the landlord to get, smoking and listening to his thoughts echo through his head that’s emptier than it was a day ago.

“We might not technically exist anymore but those things will still kill you,” says a voice from the open window. Diego’s head appears, giving him that disapproving look like he’s chiding a kid. Jokes on him though, Klaus is officially second oldest at this point.

“Well, considering the laundry list of things I’ve put in my body a cigarette might as well be a Tootsie Pop, mi hermano,” Klaus says, trying to sound teasing but he can hear the futility in his voice. He’s hoping Diego doesn’t.

Diego frowns harder at him, looks like he’s about to give another health class lecture but after a beat he just lets out a breath through his nose, the frown softening. He looks out across the city, studying it for a long moment. Klaus watches him out of the corner of his eye, hoping he doesn’t do exactly what he ends up doing. Diego hefts himself up over the window frame, testing the strength of the ancient fire escape before settling down with his back against the brick wall.

Klaus tries not to sigh. He’s not really the ‘sit in silence and reflect’ type, even all those years in the 60’s he’d rarely had a moment of peace with the cult around, but right now he just wants to be alone. Everyone else gets to brood, dammit.

“It’s all exactly the same,” Diego says, still looking out over the skyline. He shrugs like he didn’t just say something kind of stupid, “I mean like, the city – so far – it’s just like I remember.”

Diego would know, he’d stalked these streets for years; so did Klaus but he usually saw them through a drunken haze. “Guess our Sparrow friends also kept Valex Valex from blowing up the Sears Tower.” Klaus tries to remember that mission but doesn’t put much effort into it. If anything’s at the back of his mind it’s their old missions.

Diego’s mouth twists at the mention of the Sparrow Academy. Klaus hates that whole thing too, sort of. It’s more he hates that one specific person is in it. He blows out a smoke ring.

“It’s sunny though,” he says. Was sunny anyway, it’s 6 p.m. so the horizon’s getting dark.

“Yeah, wonder how that works,” Diego says, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s supposed to be raining.”

Klaus wonders where his umbrella is right now. “Oh, sure Five’s got the answer somewhere in that quizzical little brain of his. Any grand ideas from our young old man?”

Diego shakes his head, “Naw he’s down for the count. Finally ran outta steam.”

“Aww, poor little guy.”

Diego shoots him a look that says ‘don’t let him hear you call him that’. Then he pauses, says in a curious voice, “He was asking all of us our favorite colors.”

Klaus’s turn to pause. “…unexpected. Why? He knitting us all sweaters?”

“Somewhere between the second and third whiskey – before Allison took it away – he said something about-” he stops to think about it, like he’s not sure he heard right, “how the last time he saw us we were kids and he doesn’t really know us. This version of us.”

“Huh,” is all Klaus can say. Now that the thought’s in his head it actually makes sense. Five doesn’t really know them as adults. Even though 45 years is longer than 17 that’s still 17 years between the siblings Five knew and the ones he’s come back to. Makes sense too that this new wrinkle in their situation would make him realize that.

“What’re the results?” he asks, “What’d everyone say?”

“Allison likes pink-” Klaus hums cause that’s not surprising, “Vanya likes green. Luther likes yellow.”

“Yellow?”

“Yeah I wasn’t expecting that either. Five likes blue.”

“And? What about you?”

“Orange,” Diego says like he’s waiting for Klaus to make a comment.

But Klaus just thinks it’s funny, and fitting, that’d they’d all be different. He takes a drag on his cigarette.

“Well?” Diego asks, eyebrows raised, “Come on, what’s yours? Five passed out before he could get out here.”

“Oh ya know frère, I like all the colors of the rainbow, I can’t possibly discriminate against the others just to pick one,” there, that sounds more successfully flippant.

He purposefully keeps his eyes on the horizon cause he knows Diego’s staring him with some kind of look on his face.

“For real,” he says, his tone as gentle as it gets for him, “you’ve got one don’t you.”

Klaus breathes out more smoke. Dave’s eyes had been light blue, his dog tags are slate gray, Klaus’s favorite shirt had been yellow, that umbrella had had a pink stripe, but no, those are all wrong.

“Purple,” he says. He points over the railing towards the sunset at the melting decrescendo of the sky, at a dark royal purple strip, “that shade specifically.”

Diego stares at it with him for a while, they watch as it disappears as it gets darker out.

“We really don’t know shit about each other do we?” Diego says. He sounds annoyed by it, frustrated. “Any of us.”

Understatement of the year brother, Klaus thinks but it suddenly widens the hollow part in his heart that lingers there now. He had someone who knew him. He had someone who’d been there with him his whole life. Ben knew all his likes, his dislikes, all his secrets both dark and stupid. Klaus had taken it all for granted, more obvious now more than ever when Diego says that. The cherry on the big beautiful cake of a mess that this is is that Ben does exist, and he’d looked Klaus in the eye and had no fucking clue who he was.

Diego breaks the silence: “First year I started going out, doing the solo hero thing-” Klaus is tempted to interrupt with ‘illegal vigilante thing you mean’, “got this sucker.” He points to the scar running from his cheekbone past his hairline. “Mafia enforcer. Took him down, got him arrested, 14 stitches and 3 staples. Walked away like it was nothing. Got back to my place and fell down the stairs. Broke my leg.”

Klaus is very much full of grief and malaise but he laughs out loud.

“That night was when I met Patch actually,” Diego gives a wan smile, but none of this is lost on Klaus. Probably took a lot to admit to any of that but he looks like some kind of weight – a small one – just fell off his shoulder. Probably wanted to tell someone that stupid story for a long time, probably ever since the idea of Team Zero popped into his head.

“Allison’s gonna wanna hear that one.”

Diego blanches. He turns to Klaus. “Alright, your turn. What d'you you got?”

That is a very, very loaded request. Klaus isn’t ready to answer it. He could be glib, like always, he’s got plenty of stories like the chocolate pudding one. He can’t give anything big right now but he knows what he can say to Diego.

“You’re the only one I told about what happened with Hazel and Cha Cha.”

Diego’s brow knit together again in surprise. “Yeah?” Klaus nods. Diego goes quiet, looks at his knees like he’s taking this in. After a bit he nods.

“Thanks,” he says, all macho sincerity in his voice and eyes. Klaus gives into a smile. All different aren’t they, like their favorite colors.

Klaus’s cigarette is burning down and he takes a drag to take advantage of what’s left of it. He wishes he could just pass out like Five.

Diego seems to understand that’s enough for one night. He climbs to his feet, brushes rust particles from his pants. “Don’t stay out all night. You already lost out on the bed and couch by the way.”

Five in the bed and Klaus will bet Allison and Vanya are gonna sleep head to feet on the couch. Poor tall Luther never had a chance at either. “I’ve slept in plenty of tubs in my day. Including a nice clawfoot one in a senator’s mansion.” He points the nearly gone cigarette up at him, “There you go. There’s another one.”

Diego gives another approving smile but doesn’t ask for the story, not yet anyway. Allison will love that one too. He disappears through the window.

Klaus stays outside for another two cigarettes, after the sky’s gone dark. He thinks a whole lot and not much at all. He wishes he had something to take but he can’t bring himself to go out to find anything. Instead he picks himself up and meanders back to the room, says a half cheery goodnight and takes a throw pillow into the bathroom and settles down in the tub.

[sasarahsunshine]

I have a strange tendency to create alternate universes in which my favorite character has a dissociative identity disorder. In this case Hotch so imagine that due to the abuse at the hands of his father Hotch and Aaron are two different personalities hotch just stopped taking control once their father died and Aaron had control most of the time or at least That was until David Rossi told Hotch that he would be very useful in the FBI. the one who joined the FBI was Hotch not Aaron. Aaron is the loving husband and lawyer while Hotch is the serious and stoic FBI agent. I just have one question, how do you think the team would find out?

Anon, my sweet Anon— your brain is so amazing. Like, oh my goodness.

So I personally have not done any research whatsoever into DID, all I know is what I’ve seen in various media’s online (tiktok mostly- which I know isn’t a good place to get information but some people on there like to share their own DID experiences), and the couple of episodes of Criminal Minds where they explored it (however I have read that Tobias wasn’t a good example of it).

In a fictional sense, I could see this being executed really well on the show (or in a fic). Especially if nobody knows about the two different personalities (or even if only Rossi knows).

Hotch is this stoic, no nonsense unit chief. He’s a badass who takes care of his team, his family, and his “unit” (I’m not sure if everyone with DID calls their multiple personalities a unit but I have seen two different people call themselves that so… idk). He comes out when things get too overwhelming for Aaron to handle. When emotions and tensions are high, Hotch fronts to take care of things.

I can think of some perfect examples of this too! Like when Emily and Reid were trapped inside the church of that cult? And the governor showed up to try and regain control of the situation- Hotch just got in his face and told him off. “Those are my people,” type of attitude. The whole “sit down and shut up” scene in the Alaska episode too- ugh.

And then when the team needs a calm mind, a soft hand, a small smile to show that they’re doing the right thing- that they did okay- Aaron is there. He’s a father first, a friend second. He cares too much and his heart is too fragile.

I’d like to think there might be another personality in there, but with no name. The broken man who seeps through the cracks every once in a while, gripping that glass of whiskey as he sits alone in his apartment, staring at a photo on his desk of Haley. Someone who is there to deal with the emotions Aaron can’t handle. Someone to cry and scream and punch the wall so Aaron doesn’t have to feel the burden of Hotch’s failure as a husband and father.

Okay that got sad, whoops.

Gonna talk about the team finding out under the cut!

Also, I legit think is anyone found out it would be Reid first. Not because I’m a Hotchreid whore, I swear. I legit think that he would know what to look for after the Tobias incident, and it would kind of be an accident. He would be speaking with Hotch and notice the subtle shift in facial features, the faraway look in his eyes as Aaron fronts for a moment to check on his team. He’d take note of that, maybe store the info in the back of his mind. Then pay attention as it happens again. Eventually he’d find a safe place to speak with the man, alone, to ask about it as delicately as he can (once he has enough evidence on his side). Hotch would be reluctant to admit anything, but Aaron might feel a weird sort of relief that he has someone to share his secret with.

Over the years he might eventually feel safe enough to tell some people. Garcia first, because he knows she’d love and accept him no matter what. She promises not to tell his secret as she hugs him, burying her face into his shoulder and telling him how ungodly happy she is that he trusts her with something so big. (I can see her getting or making him some sort of gift, kinda like the reversible octopus toys? One side is for Hotch and the other is for Aaron. Aaron thinks it’s cute, Hotch feels weird about having a toy on his desk lol).

When he tells Emily she just smiles and places her hand on his. She doesn’t really say anything, but she kind of insinuates that she knew. Which, she might have. She’s been a spy, for crying out loud. That woman has seen shit, lol, and she’s observant. Unlike Reid, she just left Hotch alone about it. But she feels endlessly grateful that he feels safe enough to tell her (even if it’s 6-7 years after they met). Emily is the only one who can help him front who he needs (Hotch or Aaron) when in situations where it’s almost impossible (panic attacks for example). She learned trigger words on her own.

Hotch doesn’t tell Morgan, not with words. They’re at a bar after closing a case but before going home. It’s just the two of them, sitting at the high top and sipping from their beers, watching whatever sport is on the TV (not paying attention). Hotch let’s himself slip and Aaron fronts. Morgan watches the shift, the way his facial features relax a little, his eyes dazed for a moment before brightening up again. Aaron glances at him after that, and Morgan understands. He doesn’t say anything, just tips his beer and clinks it with Aaron’s. They don’t talk about it.

I honestly have no clue how JJ would find out, but I can imagine Garcia or Emily tells her. She’s kinda weirded out at first because she doesn’t understand (and her only experience with someone with DID almost killed her best friend). She’s wary around Hotch for a week or so, but eventually goes back to the way things were when she can see that he’s still the same person he’s always been.

And then Rossi just watches the team in the bullpen, laughing and goofing off, as he sips his coffee from his own office, and he smiles. Because Aaron is with them, leaning against Emily’s desk and pretending to be annoyed that they’re not doing their work. And Rossi is glad that Aaron has a family he can be himself around. That he can be both Hotch AND Aaron around.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Garden work + soft babes (bonus points for domesticity + “you don’t have to do that”)

Things I will never be over - Chris and Melissa being awkward cats who absolutely do not know how to relationship. Post-series as per usual, PG-ish, also on ao3.

The unexpected plus side of finally having some quiet – Melissa can live her best plant-lady life without worrying about all of it getting trampled.

Honestly, it is weird with most of the kids off at different colleges. She had gotten so used to her role as accidental pack mom for a whole herd of god-knows-what – and she still isn’t sure what some of the younger ones actually are, never did get an explanation for the boy who can apparently turn invisible and still turns up on her porch from time to time – and now just as suddenly it is reduced if not over. Which is to say, there are still non-human beings that automatically become her problem at work and occasionally call her at weird hours because she’s a reliable source of comfort and normality, but the remaining local faction does not need her the same way right now and she is fine with that.

So, with only so much long-distance worrying she can do before she either gets bored or goes crazy (she’s not sure which is more likely), and the relative state of quiet having lasted a couple months now, Melissa has time to plant flowers and figure out her own relationship issues. And apparently today she gets to do both at once.

This was not the plan, she would like to point out. She is perfectly capable of doing relatively light yard work on her own, and how hard could it realistically be to dig a few holes for rosebushes anyways. But in that way that these things apparently happen now, Chris is around today and attempting to make himself useful, and while this was not how Melissa intended for her afternoon to play out, she has never said no to a genuine offer of help.

Besides, it’s a good excuse to stare at him while she figures out what conversation they’re currently avoiding.

She’s not sure if they’re going slow or if they’re both too traumatized from past relationships to do much of anything or… there are a lot of possible explanations for the past year, all of them neither comforting nor problematic. At this stage in her life, she can’t afford to be too impulsive, and she’d been convinced for two years that she was going to die alone because other obligations came first and then-

“Where did you want this one?”

The man she may or may not be falling in love with is holding a pink rosebush like he is not sure what it even is and it’s the cutest thing she’s seen in years.

It’s easier to show than tell. Melissa walks over and taps her foot at a spot by the corner of the house – best to keep pointy things away from anywhere they might get trampled or driven over. Late March might be a little early for this sort of project, but she’d like to enjoy the pretty for a while before something has the opportunity to get it, and given how chaotic summer is likely to be…

“You don’t have to do this,” she says for the sake of formalities, and because she’d like to get any potential fights over with. Not that she expects that, not with him, but her instincts are still too defensive and-

“You need help,” he replies, not at all a question. This is why she likes him, she thinks. Trying to get him to talk about or even admit feelings is a losing battle unless something else has gone very wrong, which is to say that in this current quiet post-everything phase of their lives it is probably never going to happen, but what he does not say he still shows. Protectiveness is an expression of love, figuring out why her dishwasher was making weird noises is an expression of love, attempting to help with her projects is an expression of love.

She knows on some level this is still a very bad idea. He’s a good man, yes, but he’s reckless and unreliable and-

No. Not so much anymore. Not since whatever the hell happened six months ago that she did not ask about because all she needed to know was she was the person he needed in the middle of the night for once not wounded, she was the person who just needed to be calm and yet not because she had also been through her own personal hell and no one makes great choices at three in the morning and-

“Something wrong?”

Damn him. Damn him and his pretty eyes and his constant fear of being the cause of her distress.

“No,” she says too quickly. She blinks, realizing that in the time she spaced out he managed to dig a decent enough hole for the rosebush and is now waiting for further instructions. And to think that for once she wasn’t distracted by the pretty even though it was right there and-

“Whatever you need…”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re too cautious?” This would be a better scenario if she didn’t look like hell, she thinks. Hair up in a messy bun, dirt on her face, she’s not actually sure where this tshirt came from or who it originally belonged to… this is the sort of conversation a woman who actually planned for this shit would try to do in a dress, but she is more reactionary than that and-

He looks at her all deer-in-the-headlights like that is not at all where he expected she was about to go. “No?”

There are so, so many things she wants to say right now. Moving slow is one thing but they don’t have to, not anymore, not with no normal-person obstacles in the way. She has run this hesitant relationship situation by everyone else in her life who might have opinions on it – a decade of her various loved ones sabotaging her predictably awful taste in people has taught her a few damage-control techniques – and all have given their approval for a situation that, at this current moment, Melissa is unsure will actually happen in the form she wants.

And maybe that’s the problem. She’s been too content with the glacial pace, too content with avoided conversations and little kindnesses and hesitant kisses and never talking about that one exception the same way they didn’t talk about her other impulsiveness, and at least this time they have stayed in each other’s lives, at least this time she didn’t try to run, at least-

“At some point we need to figure this out. The me and you part. Where this is going, if it’s going anywhere, if you’re ever going to-“

“I don’t want to weigh you down. You know that.”

Melissa rolls her eyes. She is not in the mood for whatever the hell self-loathing spiral he’s currently in, she is not debugging that, she is tired of all these defenses and-

“Every other man I’ve been with has had no problem taking what he wants. How the hell are you the first one who’s thought I’m breakable?”

It comes out too quickly, the only way she’s capable of doing anything here apparently. So she’s dated a few assholes, and at one point wasted ten years of her life being married to one. Show her any woman her age who doesn’t have skeletons like that, she’d love to see it. And she is well aware that the current version of this man opposite her right now has changed so much from when they first crossed paths, had everything brutally taken away before he could be fully human, and there may still be that darkness and…

And she does not care, she thinks as she waits for whatever conflict-avoidant response she’s about to have to deflect. Even if he wasn’t ridiculously her type, he’s one of two people in her world who can exist alongside all her other complications and she ruled out the other one as an option ages ago. It’s either this or dying alone, and she suspects he views her similarly.

“You are breakable,” he says slowly, and now is a bad time for her to be thinking about how hot his voice is but here they are. “You deserve better.”

She laughs. “You’ve seen my past. What I deserve has never been a factor.”

“I don’t know how to do this like normal people.”

Ah yes, there it is, the elephant they always try to avoid. Melissa knows better than to ask questions about the whole lowkey-cult-adjacent past, but she knows that’s where the baggage comes from. Whereas she has always been what he would define as normal, and she’s still occasionally a trainwreck.

“Does it matter? I’m not asking you to move in or marry me or any of the shit that I’ll probably have to do if I want it because you are so determined not to overstep and… I just want something. More affection. Play with my hair and tell me I’m pretty. Stuff like that.”

“I don’t read signals very well.”

“I have noticed.”

“I can try. If that’s what you want.”

“We’ve been avoiding defining the relationship for a year. I’m not sure it is a relationship. Yeah. I want.”

She expects another defensive comment – and that’s what they are, she knows, his various fears manifesting in ways that she is not the right person to fix – but instead Chris turns back to the task at hand. There are still a few more flower bushes in the back of her car and apparently that’s a good enough reason for him to let it go and-

“It’s okay,” she murmurs as she points out where he should put the rosebush’s mate. “I’m not good at normal either.”

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

Sensual Soliloquies

A/N: This is the first time in a couple years that I’ve attempted writing any type of fanfiction, let alone smut. This is going to be extremely detailed as well, so try not to cream yourselves too early. I give the credit for the Klaus traveling in time shit to @badsext because of her Klaus x Nathan fic. Go read it, it’s quite lovely.

Warnings: smoking, detailed sexual actions, probably some cussing here or there, unprotected sex (wrap it up before you back it up), and threesome I guess if that counts

 “Klaus, where the fuck are we?” you ask him, confused to no end.

“Um, Berlin, Germany. Some time in the far future, and the apocalypse of 2019 either happened and didn’t fuck anything up, or just didn’t happen.”

  Klaus touched another fucking suitcase (he told you about the previous time, and the previous heartbreak) and somehow ended up transporting the both of you to Berlin. Everything around you is very neon, and drone-like machines fly by, carrying what seem to be food boxes. You two landed in an alleyway of what seemed to be a bigger building. There was an old fashioned looking car, and a concrete overhang type place. The “Only Employee” door gave off the vibe that you weren’t supposed to be there. Well, to be frank, you weren’t even supposed to be in that year.

“This place might be a strip club or a hooker joint.” Klaus points out, closing his eyes, deeply sighing.

“What makes you think that?” you ask, curious as to where he got that outlandish idea from. (Honestly it’s not the most outward idea he’s come up with since you’d met him.)

  He points to the window, where there seemed to be a naked robot with exaggerated female features dancing on a pole. Through the window, there’s also people, presumably strippers, dancing on tables, shaking ass, getting handed money. It turns you on just a bit, because something about cellulite being pushed against tight clothing got you going. That thought process, however, got pushed aside when a person walked through the employee door, outside. They were alone. The person looked somewhat like Klaus for some odd reason, mostly in the face region. Blonde hair swooped into a low-grade emo fringe, what looked like plastic covered their forehead, a kimono with tassels, and a deconstructed suit vest with tight pants.

“Oh fuck, hide.” Klaus whispered as quiet as possible, prompting the both of you to dive behind the old car.

“The suitcase!” you thought, about to reach out to get it, but the person was already swaying their way towards you two. They, however, didn’t seem to notice you two, as they lit what looked to be a cigarette, and took a deep inhale.

  The position that you find yourselves in proves to be quite compromising. Literally and figuratively. You were pushed up against Klaus’ groin area, as you couldn’t be choosers when about to be possible prosecuted. He groans lightly, trying to adjust you off of him, but that proves to be quite stupid as the person stops mid drag and calls out.

“Who’s there?” You have half of a mind to answer, but Klaus was just a tad drunk so he squeaked lightly.

“What the fuck?” they yell, looking to the source of the sound, only to find you and Klaus huddled together behind the car. The person seemed to have a slight accent, German, you suspect, and a higher pitch to their voice. Although that might be due to the fact that they were scared out of their fucking mind to find two people, one who looked like them behind a goddamn car.

  The two of you come out from behind the car, like two children caught trying to steal candy. Klaus tries to put his hands in front of his crotch, as his bulge hadn’t faded yet. You were already willing to formulate the truth instead of a lie, it was Germany for fucks sake, and you didn’t know if they went back to the old ways.

“Please explain to me who the fuck you two are, why the fuck you’re hiding behind a car that isn’t yours, and why you have your hands in front of your pants, hon?” he says, nodding his cigarette over to Klaus, who blushes at those words.

“We-” Klaus starts, but he was drunk, and you didn’t want to cause any confusion.

“We come from the past, and the suitcase you saw on the ground is how we got here. It allows you to go to a specific place and time, typically to kill another person. Klaus, here, um, grabbed one in his stupor and here we are, in front of you. Might I ask, what year is it?” you said in one breath, about to be prepared to start running if this person had a hidden glock.

“It’s 2037 love. For starters, my name is Luba, I work at this strip joint here and as an escort, uh. Sorry, I’m just a little baffled, understandably. You know what, my shift ends in like 5 minutes, and my boss won’t mind if I leave early. How about I order some food for all of us because I can’t cook for shit, and we’ll talk over at my place. It doesn’t seem like you two planned anything ,so I’ll care for you two ‘til then.” he offers, looking at us with curiosity.

“That sounds good, but before that, could I please get a drag of that, might as well cross-fade in fucking Berlin. Maybe we’ll get Amsterdam next time.” Klaus asks, looking for approval.

  Luba obliges, and the two of them make shared eye contact, and hand contact, which ends up being lingering. Oh, the thoughts running through your head at that moment in time. Naughty, very naughty indeed. You just meet Luba though, and he might not even be into chicks. He goes back inside, and tells the two of you to meet him up front, and you travel there, and he shows up exactly when the two of you were about to dip out.

“Come on, my place is just a walk from here, it shouldn’t tire the two of you out too much.” he says, starting to walk in a direction. You two follow him, hungry, cold, and of course horny. 

  The moment you two arrive at Luba’s apartment, the feeling of hippy isn’t uncommon. There were tapestries on the walls, and potted plants decorated the shelves. There was even an old fashioned bong sitting on the table, and it looked clean for the most part. It seemed like a very cozy place, and the serenity was only bound to end. The two of you lurked around very lightly, taking in the fact that the Nazis didn’t find you. Luba presumably went to his room to set his kimono and keys down, then he came in, only to find you and Klaus wandering around his living room, trying to figure out the vintage things from the modern ones.

“Hey, um, what do you too want for dinner? We can talk over it, and it doesn't take too long to order since everything is air-delivered,” he said, in which Klaus mumbled whatever’s fine, and you nodded along. “Chinese it is,”Luba says, typing into a little machine, and opening his living room window for the bot to come through.

    The food couldn’t come soon enough because Klaus started to sweat and get the shakes, a clear symptom of his withdrawals. They’d been getting a little better, but ever since the cult fucked him over, he’d been drinking again. Plus, the 60’s were like the haven for every drug in existence. Klaus wanted to make sure he got the freshest Mary Jane whenever possible. You, on the other hand, tended to stay away from drugs, only drinking every now and then, and smoking weed only when you felt like it. It wasn’t a constant feeling, but sometimes it was stronger than others. All three of you made your ways to the kitchen, and looked out of the window until the bot announced itself, and dropped the food off on the coffee table with the bong on it.

“Thank god! Food’s here. Limes and cherries from cocktails only go so far y’know. And those peanuts, ugh, they’re stale and taste like sweat.” Luba says, ripping the box open on the kitchen island. The box contained what looked like non-cardboard containers filled with soup dumplings, lo mein noodles, a very small order of broccoli, crab rangoon, and a fuck garlic chicken. Luba pulled out a bottle of wine and some water in glasses.

  The lot of you dug in quickly, as you and Klaus hadn’t eaten in a good 8 hours, and Luba had only eaten a small breakfast that morning. Between bites, you and Klaus explained how you two got in Germany, and your lives before that. He mentioned the Umbrella Academy and his siblings, even mentioning their powers. He was truly comfortable around Luba, he didn’t even mention his siblings when he first met you. They both even mentioned the fact that they look very similar, even though they’re years apart. The meal was stretching to a close, but Luba asked a very compromising question.

“What about the two of you, huh? I’ve been trying to figure out, with the small amount of time that I’ve known you two. Are you two friends or fuck buddies, hmm?” he asks, a sly smirk on his face as he sultrily wipes his mouth, and sets his napkin on his plate, steepling his hands under his chin. These words caused a blush to dust across the both of your cheeks, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Klaus adjusting his bulge as well as he could.

“We’re lovers, but started off as friends.” you answered, leaning forward, letting your cleavage become slightly visible. Sticking your ass out just enough to get Klaus riled up from beside you.

  Luba nods in acknowledgement, then also adjusts himself from what you can see. You all put your plates away, making quick work of rinsing them, then placing them in the deep sink. Luba moves to the living room, sitting on his couch and spreading his legs just enough to make his bulge visible in those oh-so tight pants. You both sit on the side of him, trying to edge those naughty thoughts from your heads.

“So, are we gonna fuck or what?” Luba asks casually, looking between the two of you, glancing at your lips and Klaus’ little problem.

“Yeah, why not. When in Berlin, I guess.” you say, leaning across to catch Luba’s lips with your own, catching his braided hair with your hand. His lips are surprisingly soft, and his tongue fights for dominance with your own, slowly becoming more of a stalemate, settling for pleasure.

   You move into Luba’s lap, softly grinding against him to take the edge off of the simmering pleasure in your lower abdomen. Klaus turns the two of you lightly, only so he could catch Luba’s neck, gently kissing and nibbling it, leaving red marks in his wake. He licks the prominent carotid vein in his neck, biting it to draw a high moan out of Luba, causing him to draw away from the kiss to dust your neck with kisses, stopping at your collarbone to bite there, and to continue to grind against you, and Klaus pushes up against the blonde haired individual, trying to rub his dick slowly against the rough material of Luba’s vest.

“We should move somewhere more….accomodating for three people, some would say.” Klaus says, breathing lightly on Luba’s neck, licking along the length of his earlobe. You shudder at the ending of your session, but oblige, knowing that Klaus could get a little squirmy when he was being pleasured substantially.

  The bedroom is somewhat different from the couch..or should I say love seat. You sit on the bed making out with Luba, but Klaus is sitting on the edge of the bed, sneaking a hand behind his navy blue bell bottoms, and slowly rubbing himself to get that constant source of endorphins moving. You moan lightly at the sensation of Luba rubbing himself against you, giving you just the lightest of clitoral stimulation. Wet smacks fill the air as you move down Luba’s form, biting at his smooth chest, and he moans beautifully next to your ear, giving it a nice bite to punctuate his gyrations against your pelvis. He pulls away from you just long enough to catch Klaus about to cum, only to stop him in his tracks.

“Don’t you fucking dare, I haven’t even sucked you off yet.” Luba says, making his way over to him.

  Klaus sheepishly stands up with his prominent boner not being even close to hidden in those pants of his. You take your pants off on the bed, along with your shirt, and slip a hand into your panties, getting ready to enjoy what was about to be placed in front of you. Luba lands a kiss on Klaus’ lips, gropes his ass once, then kisses the loathed bulge put before him. He pulls Klaus' pants down, just so he can see his project, then gets to work. Luba takes Klaus’ cock entirely, balls in all and moans around the length, Klaus replying in earnest. He pops off of Klaus’ balls, focusing on the head of his dick. He gives little kitten licks to the tip, making prolonged eye contact with Klaus. He takes him inch by inch, savoring every little bit of his dick that he could get his plump lips on. You also saw Luba’s tongue making work of the vein showing on the underside of Klaus’ dick.

   Luba reached his hands around and groped Klaus’ ass, kneading it between his hands, paying special attention to it. All while looking at Klaus with the biggest, brightest doe eyes the world did see. His emerald pierced the identical ones Klaus owned, sending him into a fit of moans and whimpers. He starts bobbing his head around the length, hollowing his cheeks to get that perfect feeling Klaus wanted deeply. He pulled off with a delicious pop , Klaus giving one last perfect moan from his lips. You’d been touching yourself heavily, not yet letting the slick fingers fully penetrate your hole. Just barely getting there. Luba strips himself clean, leaving his dick standing proudly against his flat stomach, small beads of precum falling from the tip, slowly making their way down to the base of his dick. Klaus also strips himself, moving over to where you were sitting on the bed, catching your lips between his own, then making quick work of your bra and panties.

  He catches each nipple between his mouth, suckling lightly on the buds. Luba also joins in on the fun, and starts slowly fingering Klaus’ asshole, drawing a low moan out of his busy lips. Klaus draws himself away from you, just long enough to also draw Luba away, who drags you on top of him. Klaus takes his spot behind you, jacking himself off lightly. You don’t know where this is heading, but it looks like it’s about to be beautifully seductive and erotic. Apparently condoms didn’t exist in the future, but that was the least of your worries. Luba sat patiently, waiting for you to slip onto his cock, hands ready to catch you if you fall.

  You slowly climbed onto Luba’s cock, stretching yourself deliciously, drawing a surprisingly strong moan from yourself. Luba’s dick is just about the same as Klaus’. It’s thicker than it is long, and light stubble covers his pelvic area. It’s not much pain, but lots of pleasure for you. Luba closed his eyes in pleasure, and lets out a loud grunt, putting his hands on your hips, grasping onto you. You slowly start to move on his length, moving up and down very slowly, then very quickly, as you’re used to Klaus being rough with you, and that’s what you took best.

And apparently so does Luba.

   He moans and yells underneath you, moving his hips up to meet yours at every interval you move. Your breasts bounce wonderfully to each movement, and whenever Luba opens his eyes, it’s all he can see. Every now and then, his eyes go to Klaus, who attacks your neck and jerks himself off to your pace with his near lookalike. As well as that, Luba likes to look at where your pussy and his dick meet, being the source of this delicious pleasure. Things start to get a little calm, but Klaus gets a very, very naughty idea. He leans into your ear and fucking dirty talks you while you’re riding Luba into the goddamned sunset.

“Fuck yeah, you like riding that cock huh? Oh, such a dirty fucking girl, getting me all riled up. Yeah, clench that sweet pussy of yours around his fucking cock. Feeling it reach deep into your fucking love tunnel, banging up against your womb. Such a fucking slut. You know you want that cum painting your insides.” he says into your ear, humping a pillow from Luba’s bed. He moans in deep pleasure, grunting and whimpering at the noises you make. Klaus reaches forward to grope your tits, harshly squeezing them so that you can feel each finger rubbing against that skin.

  Luba hears what’s going on, and it only brings him closer to his own orgasm. He moans louder now, confident in his ability to pleasure you. Him speeding up his own thrusts makes you clench your wet pussy around him, squeezing with all the might in your being. Klaus also speeds up his humping, and his words get dirtier and hornier. 

“Yeah, make him cum hard, just like you milk me whenever you can. He’ll be saying your name like a mantra when you’re done with him. Oh, good girl, riding him like a fucking champ. Don;t you feel him getting closer and closer while his dick gets harder, yeah? Want him to pump your fucking womb full of cum, yeah? Make you want more.” he says, reaching his own peak, moaning sensually in your ear as he releases onto his stomach and your back.

That action may have given you the best orgasm in the history of your sex life.

  You moan loudly and clench the hardest you’ve ever done so, sparking you to squirt messily all over Luba’s stomach. He cums after you, pumping you full of his cum. He covered his face when he came, and he moaned into oblivion. The three of you slowly recover from your orgasms, very slowly. Luba went to go fetch a wet washcloth, but not after kissing the both of you on the lips. You recover the slowest, and Klaus rubs your back as the aftershocks start rolling in. Luba cleans you up, and places his pillowcase in the wash. He also changes his sheets, but not after handing you a morning after pill, because in the early conversation over dinner that seemed so far away, you mentioned that you’d wanted kids much later in life.

  You three sleep soundly, cuddled up against each other for warmth. You feel like you’re on Cloud 9 with that day and it’d only go downhill from there.

Masterlist

[jimmythejiver]

For the first time in a long time I went to the movies in forever and then to Target. At Target I see some Godiva bars on discount yellow tags and I was ecstatic until I read 70% Cacao, Dark, Salted Caramel and was deflated.

Anyway that's how I felt about seeing The Green Knight. What you thought this was about chocolate?

No see since the pandemic I've been back on my perennial King Arthur kick. I've for a long time since I was a young preteen thought, someday I too will write my own King Arthur epic and it'll be gay, magical, gangster and culty too, but for now I'll make up my own stories for practice and then with every story I got attached too, it got too involved and convoluted to the point that when it came down to actually writing a novel, I threw it all away and made a space opera I only planned in two weeks and wrote in a month. Anyway...so now I've been writing this very gay, magical, gangster and culty take on Final Fantasy XV with my boyfriend and just fell in love with Somnus Lucis Caelum who nobody has any insight about him than to make him the Mordred to Ardyn's Arthur, which is a strange flex, but okay, I thought about what if I wrote a Dark Age prequel about Ardyn and Somnus, but Ardyn becomes king and Somnus his shogun and they play games of seduction and power because I'm twisted like that. Anyway...I was like I'm never going to write this and I have to keep making up characters based on FFXV characters and King Arthur tropes because there's not a lot of stories that take place during the Dark Ages, it's always some Roman Empire story, or High Middle Ages and FFXV gave no room for either society to happen after the fall of Solheim and the rise of King Somnus...so we left with Dark Ages, y'all, the King Arthur comparisons are obvious, but Ardyn is no Arthur and Somnus is no Mordred, Aera is only Guenevere if you make up an affair with Somnus, Gilgamesh is no Bedwyr/Bedivere, but uh...they both amputees and the oldest companions to their respective kings so...I guess. Anyway making an ancestor of Cor Leonis and deciding well he's Owain/Yvain, or am Ignis type as idk Sir Cai/Kay I guess, they both cook, but Cai's more like Seifer Almasy than any FF character... Anyway I'm losing people.

My plan was to just scrap the FFXV prequel, leave my Somnus ideas into Overtime (a gangster and gods story) and just plan an actual King Arthur adaptation. I'd have King Arthur the treasure hunter, leader of a warband turned founder of Camelot who fights giants, giant cats and dogheads, but also fights King Claudas of the Franks and King Aelle of the Saxons and Cerdic a Briton who puts in his lot with the Saxons, etc. It'd been a a glorified turf war, meanwhile Arthur's gotta make alliances with King Pelles, The Fisher King and his strange cult he's founded because, why yes I find the ends justifies the means prophecy of the Holy Grail Quest very culty because Christianity then does not resemble it now. Meanwhile you got the secondary plots of Mordred, Gawain, Lancelot, Percival, Tristam and other's going on because they matter and too many modern King Arthur stories sideline the knights.

So many have always sidelined Mordred as a final boss eldritch abomination in mortal flesh conceived of sin and give him no personality, or complex motives, or even just a relationship with Arthur. I also have noticed the general sidelining of Lancelot, or give him a chad villain upgrade if you must include him at all, and the villainizing of Gawain to the point that you don't even have to have Mordred, or Agravain as a catalyst shit stirrer in court, just slap Gawain's name on Liam Neeson in a top knot and you're good. Mordred can just be a child offscreen until last act...fuck that, while Morgan Le Fay can either be a villainess plotting her cabal through men, or a well-intentioned, ineffectual idiot. Fuck that.

Now Hollywood just be doing King Arthur first acts that suck ass, only for said director to get rewarded failing upwards by giving this same jerk the Aladdin remake. The tonally shitty, crammed in blockbuster mess of a cliche heroe's journey that sucks.

With that background I was excited for The Green Knight. I read an illustrative version as a kid, I read Tolkien's translation as a teenager, I read Simon Armitage's superior, but with liberties taken translation. I was prepped to go knowing that indie, or not they were going to make changes to weave the disjointed poem together. I'm excited that because this movie exists Project Guternberg's finally thrown Jessie Weston's prose rendition up on their website. I'll be reading that at some point when this blows over.

The movie adaptation makes a lot of...choices, many I wouldn't love, but would forgive had their been a payoff. There was none.

The journey was fine, the cinematography was a breath of fresh air after crappy slo mo, glossy action scenes ruined another. Guys, I don't think I want to see a Zack Snyder Excalibur, it'll marginally be better than Guy Ritchie, but that ain't saying anything. Leave Excalibur to the post-Star Wars 80s where it is impeccable for it's time. I liked Green Knight's breathable pacing, it's color palette's in the forests and mountains made up for the muddy grey of every Ridley Scott send up in the castles and villages in every other Dark Ages/Medieval story in the last I don’t know since the shitty 00′s. For all the dark tones when there was blues, greens, yellows or reds, they were vibrant in this movie to contrast the gloom of Britain. The soundtrack was good. This isn't all what makes a movie, but it enhances it so let's get to the story and what I did and didn't like.

Things I Liked: Gawain is still a novice in his career The Costume Dressing Everyone pronounces Gawain's name different. I pronounce it like Gwayne, or Guh Wayne, but here you got Gowen (like Owen), Gowan (like Rowan), or even Garlon who I'm pretty sure is the Fisher King's heir in some versions of that Arthurian story, so uh... The reference to Arthur slaying 960 men with his bare hands (Nennius for the win!) The Waste Land that is implied to be a site of a battle (an important aspect of the Arthurian landscape) The Fox companion No long grisly, drawn out hunting scenes. The Fox lives! No misogynist speeches

Things I'm Mixed: This being a dream, is the magic real? Are the giants? Is the Green Knight a figment of Gawain's imagination from a spell Morgan casted in him to hallucinate? Is Lord and Lady also figments? It's...a way to interpret the poem, but lazy and I don't see why it's got to all fantasy, or all dream...this movie makes it too vague you're stuck picking one camp than to accept it's a fantasy with dream and hallucinatory sequences.

Things I'm Meh: Morgan Le Fay as Gawain's mom. Look I fucking hate Morgause as a character and these two get merged and steal each other's aspects so much at this point the difference is who did they marry, King Urien or King Lot? Both are attributed to being Mordred's mom, Mordred is Gawain's brother...both practice magic depending on certain incarnations, both love and hate Arthur their brother and are in conflict with him. Saint Winifred. I actually liked this sequence, but I don't appreciate her as the tacked on wife in the later dream sequence as like...a contrast between the wife you should marry than the whore next door you don't respect anyway? I don't even know what lesson I'm supposed to get out of the damn dream sequence, or any of it? That Gawain should've married his girlfriend and then he'd be a just ruler? That he shouldn't be king? That he'd never have to make the same heartless, impartial choices? I don't know, he seemed like a king doing king shit because guess what? It never gets easier. Wars will be waged. The world didn't become better because he married the right woman, respected her and lived in obscurity. The world didn't become better because he made her his queen. We certainly don't know the world would be better Gawain had his head chopped off and dead XP They never reveal the Lord and the Green Knight as one and the same because of this shit.

Things I Hated: Arthur withdraws from the challenge because he's old. In poem he takes it on and Gawain takes it so he don't have to and he finds himself more disposable than the king. Gawain only takes the challenge because of arrogance. Arthur and Gawain had no prior personal relationship. I'd not have hated this so much if it wasn't compounded by it cancelling out the first two things. Gawain is portrayed as having no respect for his woman, or any woman, maybe his mother? He has to be pushed by Winifred to regain her head. Gawain is portrayed as arrogant, covetous and ready to pass the buck, or the bare minimum than have any honor or decency. It didn't matter the kid in the wasteland was shithead bandit, the way Gawain acted towards him, when he gets robbed, it almost feels like he deserved it and Gawain doesn't learn a damn lesson. I'll admit him taking the sword to cut his ropes and cutting his hands was a neat sequence, it shows him go from stupid, to almost clever and having will to survive...you know traits he had in the poem, but he stops showing these traits or growing. Basically Gawain has to be dragged kicking and screaming to help people and shows no fortitude when facing temptation, or when showing respect towards others, it's exhausting. You don't make this kind of journey story without character growth. Why are you skipping this? Also is it just me, or is this like when you take Frank Miller Batman and transport him onto a Bill Finger story? This is at best Thomas Malory Gawain (and this is charitable) transported on the earlier Pearl Poet's story. Stop it. It's not tonally correct and goes at odds with the story and the set up characterization you'd need to tell it. Speaking of which, you know how I get through the oof... of Liam Neeson Gawain in Excalibur? By pretending he Agravain instead. Here...I don't even think Gawain could pass as Mordred in spite of his covetous nature, lust and entitlement. Why? because I don't think even Mordred is this dumb to warrant this hubris. Essel being invented as a tacked on love interest just to be shit on utterly and for what? I don't think I have much commentary here as there is no Essel I'm aware of to compare, or stack up. I just notice this trope of like...usually if you include a sex worker in Hollywood she often has a heart of gold, she often has her own sense of values that goes at odds with society, but is more true and less hypocritical than a privileged lady’s. I thought that's what they would've done with the added trope of back at home sweetheart to contrast and pit her against the despicable femme fatale of Lady Bertilak and her adultery and her ladyship...and I'm glad they didn't...but you did nothing with Essel than to shit on her for existing when you made her exist, you know. Lady Bertilak being portrayed as the seductress devil incarnate. Look I know adultery is a touchy taboo, but uh her and Gawain hit it off in the poem, dammit! Her values and his values come to clash, but here it's played off as Gawain is stupid and covetous and Lady Bertilak wants to prove something because...? If my brother's theory that she's a figment of Morgan Le Fay's magic, then I'll take this as a lesson of Gawain is impulsive and covetous and his mom knows it, but he don't want to fuck his mom, but he wants her power, and Morgan wants to teach him a lesson... I guess. Hey we don't have misogynist speeches in this movie, but we'll make sure to have the movie drip with it with no point, or commentary. Pass. Lord guilting, extracting and initiating the same sex kiss and only once. Poem automatically better that Gawain don't have to keep being reminded to keep his part of the bargain and he does it willingly more than once. What he doesn't do is give up his belt...gods how did we get more homophobic as a society that the homoeroticism here is worse? Catholics of the middle ages officially had no issue doing same sex, passionate kissing until it lead to sex. The Ending: The gods damn ending. In the movie as is, Gawain waits to uphold his end of the bargain and get his head chopped off. He imagines, even though we don't get any fuzzy or distortion to indicate this is a dream, but I already knew this was coming, he runs away and comes home, is regarded a hero, he sees his lady, takes her from behind and if you saw Brokeback Mountain (I didn't, but DJ has) you know this is a sign of disrespect to women. He gets her knocked up, pays her off for the kid she wants to keep, he is crowned king, marries the ghostly saint lady he helped retrieve her head earlier from a lake in the movie (this right here is the damn tip off). There's no more dialogue by this point and everything is montaging, so you know by now it's a dream, though nothing is out of focus. He rules as a heartless king, his whore son dies from war he waged, he has a daughter, his wife dies. Gawain then takes off the belt that would've saved his life and his head falls off. This would've been the one good twist, except... In this sequence of events he never had his head cut off so uh... now we back in present day. He decides not to bitch out, Green Knight in a sexy way is like "now off with your head," movie cuts to credits with no resolve...uh what the fuck? What the fuck? This is not good. You wasted the one twist in your dream when idk, you could've...

How I'd fix it: No dream sequence at all. No Incident At Owl Creek twist. Gawain comes home a hero and survivor of this game and ordeal. He wears this belt of shame. He becomes a well-renowned knight, but he bears a shame. One day he goes to take off his belt and his head falls off because he cheated to get this belt and to survive this encounter. There. Done. Improved your high concept movie that couldn't play any of the lessons straight from the damn poem without making everyone an asshole for no reason! Ugh! But nope you had to end it on we don’t know if Gawain lives or dies...because...it's dream magic made from his momma's witchcraft...?

Last Thoughts So then post-credits scene because Marvel because Pirates Of The Caribbean existed. A white girl who looks nothing like Gawain's daughter we see who didn’t pay off, or any child I can remember through this whole movie picks up King Arthur's crown that dream Gawain inherited and puts it on her head. Who is this girl? Are we gonna have an indie equivalent of of the Marvel Movie Universe/Universal Horror Monsters thing with ancient British legends? We gonna get a Life Of Saint Patrick next that crosses over? I don't know. What is this?

[snarkwrites]

08 | gangsta ; sweet pea

Notes:

SO.. I uhh... Got super into writing this recently. I just really liked where it was heading after part 7. Yes. Yes, I realize that literally no one asked for more of this but.. I wrote it. Might as well share it.

I need to amend what I said about this being non canon compliant. It does mention things that happen in canon. Some of them even.. Happen. But differently. And a little out of order as I saw they fit into my own personal timeline. Also.. I’m gonna throw in some totally of my own creation stuff into here as well. I don’t exactly know what all that’ll be yet, but.. Yeah.

This is the first of four parts I have already written and waiting to go. I know, I know.. Literally no one asked for this. But you’re getting it anyway.

Warnings:

non canon compliant - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. angst & slow burn, heavy sexual tensionstarting now, actually - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. violence / swearing & fighting, possible underage drinking and other shenanigans- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…eventual sexual content / a virgin original character- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there.

Pairing:

Andrews!Sibling OFC, Alyssa x Sweet Pea

Other Parts:

[ one - two - three - four - five - six - seven -  soundtrack ]

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn​ is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you’d like to be tagged for this story by all means.. Please let me know. Please, I beg. It’d make me super duper happy!!!

                                             EIGHT.

“ Al?”

I turned down my radio and strained to hear. It almost sounded like Polly calling my name from the bottom of the stairs. I wandered over to my bedroom door, peeking out. Polly stood at the foot of the stairs, holding her twins on each hip. A smile played at my lips and I bounded down the stairs, launching myself into a careful hug. Fussing over the twins because I’d been dying to see them since the night Polly added me on Snapchat before everything went down the way it did.

She’d sent me a message that night, telling me she was pregnant and that she and Jason were leaving. She’d been planning to swing through Chicago with Jason and visit, on their way to wherever it was they’d planned to go. When it never happened and I didn’t hear from her again, I’d been worried for a while.

Then Betty realized that she’d been keeping in touch with me over Snapchat right after she went missing and she’d messaged me, asking if I’d seen Polly. When I told her I hadn’t and asked what was going on, she’d filled me in on everything.. Jason’s death and Polly’s fight with their parents and then Polly running away.

The rest filled itself in when I moved back in with my dad, for the most part. I found myself trying to stick close to Cheryl, because I knew she was taking it really hard. Because Jason had been like the third of us. Honestly, it hit me pretty hard too when I found out. Especially when Cheryl did that thing she always fucking does and tried to push me away. Tried to deal with it herself.

I’d given myself over to the thought Polly wasn’t ever going to return to Riverdale, so I was a little shocked that she was here. And staying under the same roof as her mom again.

“The last thing Betty told me was that you were living on a farm. I bet that was peaceful.” I stretched and smiled at her. Just imagining the lazy days that probably stretched on and on. The slow and quiet life.

Polly smiled, nodding. “I learned so much there.”

I nodded. “What was it like?”

We moved to sit on the couch and Polly began to tell me what she’d been up to. I listened, nodding and smiling. But the entire time she described this place, God help me, I found myself getting flashbacks to the true crime podcast I’d listened to about the Jonesboro cult. Or the Davidians from Waco.

I mean… it sounded harmless enough, but everything she told me about the place just made me think less of a commune and more of a cult type setting. And that had me worried.

The front door was being pounded on. When I heard Reggie calling my name through it, I grumbled. Polly gazed at the door and then at me. Smirking. “No way! I always thought you and Reggie would be cute together!”

“Whoa.. Let’s not get all happy.” I shook my head, frowning a little. Telling her in detail what actually happened and that we were broken up. She shook her head, frowning. “That’s a jerk move. Betty told me you were on the Vixens now?”

“Yeah. You know Cheryl. She’s always had a way of talking me right into shit I normally wouldn’t do. And Riverdale High didn’t exactly have a gymnastics team like my old school in Chicago, so I decided rather than go rusty and lose my edge, I’d join.” I shrugged, laughing and shaking my head. “It’s not so bad, I guess.”

She nodded to my outfit for the day. Ripped jeans, a Motley Crue t shirt and my favorite boots, my dad’s old plaid shirt. “You mean the other Vixens haven’t read you for filth for daring non conformity?”

“ Oh, there’s this one girl I’m dying to get my hands on when we do that powderpuff football game on Friday, but other than her, nobody really seems to care or notice? I’m just kinda.. There. Which believe me… is totally fine with me.” 

I bent down to pick up Dagwood so that Polly could feed Juniper because she was crying. Adjusting Dagwood to my hip, I made my way over to the door, throwing it open. Scowling up at Reggie, who was leaning against a porch post.

His gaze softened when he glanced at me. I bit my lip. Taking a deep breath to keep my patience. I knew he was hurting. I knew it was also totally his fault. But I was trying not to be mean.

“What do you want?”

“Are you seriously dating that fucking guy now? Princess, he’s only going to hurt you.”

“No worse than you already have. But no.. No Reggie, I’m not dating Sweet Pea. I just fell asleep in Mr. Keaton’s class and I happened to wind up leaning against the guy. Kind of happens when I stay up until 3 watching the Saw movies.”

He looked as if he didn’t believe a thing I said. I shrugged because honestly, I didn’t care if he believed me or not. Shifting Dagwood from one hip to the other. Bouncing him a little, giving a soft laugh when he grinned up at me. And raised his little hand to try and grab a handful of the ends of my hair.

“ That guy is bad news, princess. If I have to, I’ll talk to your dad. Anything if it means keepin you from gettin seriously hurt. Or worse, put in danger.”

“Reggie, you need to go.” I rolled my eyes. “I should get back inside. Get Dagwood back to his mommy.”

Reggie was giving me this soft look again. Nodding. Like he was lost in thought. I snapped my fingers in his face and cleared my throat. “You need to go, Reggie. I’m not kidding. The more you pop up and try to force me to deal with this, the less it makes me want to, okay? I need space. Time.”

“It’s just so hard, princess. Then I see you around with him and damn it, I hate the way I acted and the fact that I ruined everything.” Reggie admitted quietly. I nodded. “Just give me space.”

“I’ll try.” he promised, turning, walking down my porch steps. From the doorway, Polly spoke up.

“Sweet Pea.. He’s a Serpent, right? Jason mentioned him once or twice.” Polly asked as she reached out for Dagwood and gave me Juniper to hold.

I settled Juniper on my hip and gazed at Reggie’s retreating back. Sighing and shaking my head sadly. I just wish he’d understand that the more he tries to force himself on me right now, the less I want to deal with everything. And I don’t want to lose a friend.

I diverted my gaze and turned to face Polly, nodding. “Yeah. I got paired with him in Biology. It’s been interesting, to say the least.” I sank down to sit on a bench my father built, laughing as I shook my head. Cooing at Juniper. 

Polly cleared her throat. “Out with it, Alyssa Jean. I know that look too well, okay? And as your friend, I need to tell you now that the Serpents aren’t people you mess around with lightly. Not to mention, that whole thing with that guy Dave you had going in Chicago. The scary guy? The reason your mom freaked out and sent you here to live in the first place, most likely?”

“It’s nothing. It’s dumb.” I shook my head. Shifting Juniper around in my lap. Bouncing my legs a little to make her grin and reach up. “Dave was scary. And I’m starting to see that my mom did a good thing sending me here. I’m just glad he hasn’t tried to reach out to me.” I shivered a little, raising a hand to drag it through my hair. Gazing at Polly.

“The Serpents aren’t all bad.” I spoke up after a few seconds.

“Al, half of them already have rap sheets. I just don’t want you getting mixed up with them and getting hurt. Promise me you’ll at least give anything you’re thinking a lot of thought instead of just diving in and doing it?” Polly eyed me in concern. Mostly to appease her, I nodded.

“As far as Reggie.. I think he really regrets what he did.” Polly advised. Giving me a smile. Clearly trying to steer me in a particular direction. I know she was doing it with the best of intentions, but deep down, it struck a nerve or two. Because literally anyone I could think of save for Cheryl and Toni, they all seemed hell bent on steering me clear of Sweet Pea. Which was ironic, considering I really don’t see him ever even giving me a second look. Even more ironic when you stop to consider that it’s not like I’m openly throwing myself at the guy...Or that I’ve pretty much made up my mind that if I do feel anything for him, I can’t ever actually tell him, because it will ruin everything.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I decided against it. Polly gave me a soft smile, getting a dreamy look in her eyes as she spoke again. “The look he was giving you just now, Al.. If you gave him half a chance… you could be as happy as Jason and I were. Or as happy as I was raising my sweet angels at the Farm. You should come to a meeting with me.”

I shook my head quickly to that one. “I am.. Not into organized religion. I barely go to the services at the church here unless my dad really wants me to go with him. Besides.. We both know that I got up to enough sketchy stuff in Chicago that if I were to step foot in a religious building, lightning might just strike me down.”

“You weren’t that bad, Al. Everyone makes mistakes.” Polly laughed softly. Nodding to her twins as she mused, “Which one of us got knocked up, hm? And we both know how fast that gets you written off here.”

“ I know I wasn’t that bad, but also at the same time, it scares me now to think back and remember how much fun I had when I was in over my head, doing things I knew I shouldn’t ? As far as you getting pregnant and what this town thinks about it. Honestly, fuck ‘em. You and Jason were really in love. That’s what matters.” 

“We really were. But it was hard.” Polly admitted quietly. Adding as an afterthought, “ I really miss him sometimes.”

“Yeah. Me too. Pretty sure he’d have helped Archie drill Reggie’s head into the floor when it got around exactly why Reggie was even dating me to begin with. It was ridiculous. Took Jughead and Kevin to pull the two apart.” I gave a quiet laugh, shaking my head. 

Alice was calling for Polly and Polly grumbled, raising up to peek out the window. “I better go over there and see what she wants. I wanted to come over. Maybe I can come by again later or something?” Polly asked as she gathered Juniper and Dagwood, re-swaddling them against her. I smiled, nodding. Following her to my door, letting her out and locking the door again behind me once I saw her disappear inside her parents house.

XXX

“They’re going to tear down South Side.”

The words had Sweet Pea tensing because it was just another thing he’d be losing. It wasn’t enough apparently, that he was living in the Wyrm because he had nowhere else to go. He didn’t have family willing to take him. His mother hadn’t spoken to any of them in years. He barely saw his mother as it was, she’d come home for a day, a week tops and then she’d be gone again.

He gazed over at Fangs, processing what Fangs was telling him. “First it was closing the school down. Then it was our homes. What next, huh? What else do we have to get taken?”

Jughead wandered into the Wyrm and Sweet Pea scowled a little. It didn’t matter how much Jughead was trying to do for the gang, what he was accomplishing was the opposite of what needed to happen. “The fuck is he doing here?” Sweet Pea nodded to Jughead.

“He’s one of us, man.” Fangs reminded Sweet Pea. Glancing at Jughead as Jughead made his way over. He’d probably just heard the news about South Side High too. Though Fangs didn’t see why it mattered

“Only because of FP. Cherry’s more one of us than he is. I still say the second we’re not useful he’s going to bitch out and turn his back.”  Sweet Pea grumbled.

Fangs chuckled, shaking his head. Sweet Pea hadn’t ever made a secret how he felt about Jughead. And he certainly hadn’t taken it easy on the guy when they initiated him into the Serpents not so long ago, either.

Jughead sat down next to where Fangs was standing, grabbing himself a drink from behind the counter and pulling the tab. Taking a long sip.

“We have to do something. They’re taking everything from us.” Jughead spoke up angrily.

“I’d like to point out they’re your friends.” Sweet Pea spoke up, a harsh tone as he glanced over at Jughead.

“I’d like to point out that we all know you have a thing for one of them. If you’re going to sit there and pin this on the North Side like usual, I mean. At least own up to that.” Jughead retorted, watching Sweet Pea’s fists clench and his face twist into an angry mask. Trying to keep himself from laughing as it happened.

Sweet Pea having feelings for Alyssa wasn’t quite as well hidden as the guy thought.

The only one who didn’t seem to be aware of it was Alyssa herself. It amused Jughead.

It did not amuse Alyssa’s brother.

And the two had already had several heated conversations about him hanging around Alyssa so much that Jughead had to intervene on more than one occasion.

“I keep telling you idiots I don’t. I’d trust her before I would you, Jones. If we’re going there.” Sweet Pea muttered.

“Whatever you say, Pea. Can we stop arguin? Maybe start thinkin about what the fuck we’re gonna do?” Fangs patted his friend on the shoulder and Sweet Pea glared up at him.

“A hunger strike. We chain ourselves to the school. They can’t demolish it if we’re not moving.” Jughead suggested.

Fangs and Sweet Pea shared a look. Neither were sure their idea would work. But maybe it could buy them some time. Or get attention to the issues at hand… The more attention they drew to the fact that certain people were trying to use their money to completely run an entire neighborhood out of town, the better their case.

“That’s not the worst idea.”

“I hate what I’m about to say.” Sweet Pea paused, grimacing as he added, “It’s not. It’ll get attention on what’s happening. I hated saying that, fuck.” 

“Let me go talk to the others. We’ll reconvene at 9 tonight?”

Fangs and Sweet Pea nodded and Jughead went to talk to some of the other Serpents.

“That killed you, didn’t it buddy?” Fangs teased Sweet Pea.

“Fuck you, Fogarty.” Sweet Pea snapped, grumbling to himself. “Doing somethin is better than just sitting back and lettin them take everything, I guess.” 

And at 9:30 pm that night, Jughead, Fangs, Sweet Pea and Toni as well as several other former South Side students met at their old school. Chaining themselves to the fence in protest.

[jasonrae117]

Bad Idea, Good Intentions

Hello, Thank you everyone for reading! I'm currently working from my phone and can't put the whole story under a cut, but I'm working on it! I'll definitely get one there before the next part because it may or may not (definitely will) contain potential nsfw shenanigans. Enjoy!

Part 3

"Nice to meet you Rachel Roth. Tell me something interesting about yourself." Tim leanes in just a bit closer.

"I work with music for a living." She smirked at him, moving so her knee brushed against his.

Tim looked into her eyes, there was something familiar there. This whole time he felt like he knew her or recognized her from somewhere but he couldn't place it. He graduated with a degree in criminal law and took classes in profiling and here he was not making any connection as to why he would know her. He blamed the alcohol and he was frustrated with himself. Career in music, was that a hint? She obviously knew what she was doing this whole time, playing with him. It was sexy as fuck but still messed with the brainiac. 

He took his time in analyzing her features, making it obvious what he was doing. She just tilted her head in response. Large indigo eyes.. he'd never seen ones like them before today. Dark wavy hair that looked like silk flowing down, he never paid so much attention to a woman's hair before unless they were a criminal. Her outfit was all black and nothing jumped out in familiarity...but her shoes, or rather boots. He looked back up, her pale and smooth looking skin, her alluring curves. He hadn't recognized those eyes before today because he saw them for the first time less than an hour ago, except at a distance from her place onstage. He didn't know the color, only that she had winked at him and they stood out against her pale face. 

"Holy shit! You're Raven!" His eyes widened and his eyebrow shot up. How could he not see it before? Fuck he sounded like an idiot. 

She smiled and she looked so gorgeous in that moment. Her laugh fluttered around the bar as her hand fell to his knee. "Wow, Tim. I'm surprised it took you so long. I certainly gave you lots of attention during the show." 

"Hey, in my defense you were at least fifty feet from me, wearing...uh more revealing clothes, and your hair was completely different. Besides I've had a few drinks since and my brain's not working as efficiently." He reached down and laid his hand on top of hers, leaning into her space. Rachel didn't react or move away as if comfortable with his closeness. 

"Excuses excuses." She waved her hand in a dismissively playful manner. "Would you like to leave Tim?" Her voice now was sultry and almost a whisper of seduction. 

Tim froze, he'd never been in a situation like this. These were the kinds of things that happened in movies, not to him. She was asking him to go home with her...unless he misread the whole situation and she was asking him to leave! Oh God, did he make her uncomfortable? No, she came to him, flirted with him! He was overthinking, overanalyzing. Great, now he was taking too long to answer, shit, he had to say something!

"You want to leave with me?" His face was red in embarrassment. Head tilted and eyebrows set as high as they could go, he had lost all steampower of his attempt to be smooth and now he was just an idiot like every other guy, like his dumbass friends. "I'm sorry. Of course you want to leave with me….….fuck me!" He slapped his forehead and then his eyes widened as he then realized how awful the timing of his curse was. "Wait! No I didn't mean that either. You don't want to fuck me. I mean...not that I don't want you to, because I do….uh... this isn't coming out right." His hands were held out and he was starting to sweat. 

Rachel just looked amused at his stupidity and casually waited for him to take his foot out of his mouth.

"What I mean to say is, I'm not trying to be cocky or have any expectations. I was trying to sound less stupid and well I pretty much failed at my recovery. I told you I talk too much when I drink." He rubbed the back of his neck. Good thing none of the guys were near, the bartender gave him some weird looks, but at least Tim didn't have to worry about the guy teasing him about it relentlessly for the rest of time. 

Rachel smirked and stood up, brushing her skirt down and tossing her hair over her shoulder. She took a few steps away and turned halfway giving Tim an expectant look. "I take that your answer was a yes. Or was all that rambling a way to tell me to look elsewhere for company?" 

"Yes. Definitely yes!" He stood up immediately and tossed some bills to pay the rest of the tab and followed after her. His eyes dropped to her swaying hips and he'd never felt luckier. They made it out of a back door and they silently walked by each other taking in the cool night air. 

"So, Rachel." He looked down beside him. Though she had on heeled boots, she was still half a foot shorter than him. He could add cute to the many attributes she held. "Would you like me to drive?"

"Ideally. I don't have a car and it wouldn't be smart to leave yours here overnight. I'll give you directions to my place." She glanced up and smiled softly at him. 

"Great!" He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her to his car. He was glad he drove his own car, it gave him a chance to show it off. He didn't think Rachel would be easily impressed by a nice car, but his wasn't just any run of the mill nice car. Tim proudly drove an all black 1967 Ford Mustang. Tim's biological family was well off, but when Bruce Wayne took him in, he had more opportunities including working for Wayne Enterprises and getting paid very handsomely. 

Rachel stopped a few feet short and let out a low whistle. "Ok, Mr. Drake. I have to be honest, I wasn't expecting this beauty to be yours."

"What were you expecting? A Prius?" He laughed and opened the passenger door for her. 

"What do you do for a living? This car is immaculate." She adjusted her skirt and ran her hand along the dashboard. Tim just chuckled and closed the door, jogging to his side.

"I work as a financial analyst at Wayne Enterprises. But I want to work in law enforcement soon. That's what my new degree is in."

"Wow, handsome and intelligent. How new?"

"Actually just a few days ago." He smiled and the engine roared to life. 

"Congratulations, Tim." She smiled genuinely back at him and his stomach flipped. She made him feel some type of way. She pulled her phone out and handed it to him, directions already plugged in. He pulled out of the parking lot and followed the instructions given by the device. 

Her place wasn't too far from the club, quiet music played in the background, but he wanted to use this time to get to know her more before…. before they stopped talking. 

"How long have you been in the band?"

"About three years, including the awkward stage of figuring out if we were good enough to be a band and what our names would be."

"How'd you come up with the names?"

"I've always known my stage name would be Raven. It was my mother's nickname for me. That's also why we ultimately chose Nevermore as the band name too. Jenni felt like she was a curse or bad luck charm for those around her, except us, so Jinx came easy. Toni went with Argent as a kind of fuck you to the bullies that made fun of her super pale skin color. And Wally took inspiration from Kid Rock and combined it with the fact that he's 'the fastest drummer alive'. Thus became Nevermore." 

"Very cool. Does your family come to your shows? You're really good, I'm sure they're proud." He glanced at her and noticed that her shoulders were hunched and she idly played with the rings on her fingers. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that if it's personal."

"No..no, it's fine. I..uh.. don't have any family left. My mother passed away when I was eight. She was the only person I had. My father was never a part of my life and never will be."

"I'm very sorry for your loss. It must have been difficult for you being so young." He reached out and reassuringly held her hand.

"It was, but I had a small community of people that took care of me. And before you get the wrong idea, it wasn't a cult. I grew up in Norway."

"Norway? Wow, what part? If it's not too much to ask, how did you end up here?"

"Full of questions aren't we?" He shrugged in answer and squeezed her hand gently. "It was a small village called Azarath and they had such a unique culture. The oldest woman, Azar, was the first baby born in the village a hundred years ago. They named it after her and she became such an important figure. It was most important to her to continue the traditions of her people. They were all pacifists and meditated every day, everyone was so happy and peaceful and thus there was no crime in Azarath, just community. My mother fled from the U.S., away from my abusive father. She took me with her and picked the flight that would get her the farthest away. She had nothing with her except me and an empty bottle. We were starving and nobody helped us. Then one of the Azarathians saw us and gave us a home, gave us hope. They helped my mother raise me. When I was old enough I wanted to learn everything about their culture and every culture. They called me Raven from the Norse mythology of Odin's ravens, symbolizing wisdom and thought. I sometimes think of it as the death omen rightfully earned when my father sent some bad people to locate me to take me away. Azar gave me her journal and my mother gave me all the money from the village. They had all saved me and I didn't understand what was happening, but I ran to the city and got on a plane back to the United states. I found a shelter and lived there until I was eighteen. I found out that those men killed everyone in Azarath. It was all my fault, because I wasn't there. They would have stopped if they got what they wanted. I fled and they killed an entire culture." Tears now flowed down her face. He had put the car in park when they reached her apartment complex. He didn't move to get out and instead slid over to her and wrapped his arms around her. 

Tim gently stroked her hair and let her cry. "Shh, it wasn't your fault. They saved you from a bad man, a bad life. Their culture lives within you and Azar's journal. We don't know what those men would have done, perhaps the outcome would have been the same because they are terrible people. But they knew that you could have a safe future and carry on their memory. Raven has a new meaning now, beyond wisdom and thought. To me it means brave, strong, graceful."

Rachel's sobs were now soft sniffles and she looked up at him. "I'm sorry. You probably were hoping to get laid and now you're comforting a crazy girl."

 

"Hey, I'm not complaining. You're not crazy. And I told you I had no expectations. Come on, let's get you inside, I'm sure it's more comfortable than my car." He felt her nod and he got out to open her door.

"Thank you Tim. I…" She took a breath and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You're very kind. There's not many, if any, like you."

"I appreciate that, I can confidently say there is no one like you Rachel." He smiled at her and she grabbed his arm guiding him to her apartment door. 

[alternativewinxcontinuity]

Well, I read the ‘sneak peak’. God I hope they cut a lot out because there were places where the pacing felt like they cut something out.

The was... a general level of ‘I think I’d have more fun beating my head against the wall’, but there were a few places where I had some things that needed to be said.

Under the cut because I’ve included the full available text in addition to my b*tchy little notes.

So I’ve just realised the whole thing +sneak peak is 14,232 words, that’s a bit excessive for a single post.

I might leave just the snark here (I chucked the +sneak peak chapters up on AO3, it’s just for more contexts.)

Prologue

Under her list of ideas, she’d written the results of her experiments.

July 6th—candles—no burns.

July 8th—camping stove—no burns.

July 10th—blowtorch—no burns.

Experimenting on herself had been scary, but not as scary as the memory of her home burning.

You set shit on fire and your only experiments thus far are: “does this burn me? How about this?” CHILD! Start with a candle, a lighter and a f*cking FIRE EXTINGUISHER and practice putting out a single flame!!!! Then: light a single candle!

Stop putting your hand in fire if it scares you! “I am this many kinds of fire proof” does not equal “control of fire so I don't hurt anyone else”!!!!

Also, the wall behind the woman had opened into a shimmering portal of light. Just another clue that something unusual was going on.

Bloom waved this off. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m magic now?”

“You always were, Bloom,” said Headmistress Dowling. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

That was enough. She might have mysterious powers that were out of control, the world might be going mad, but her parents hadn’t raised her to listen to strange adults who approached in the dead of night with what sounded like a cult recruitment speech. Bloom snorted, abandoned her sleeping bag, and made for the door.

The woman’s voice stopped her at the mouth of the warehouse.

“I know about the fire, Bloom.”

Bloom trembled like a candle flame in a gust of wind. Slowly, she turned around. The woman was watching her with a steady gaze, keen but not unkind.

“Where are you going? You can’t go home. You’re too afraid you’ll hurt your parents again.”

Headmistress Dowling was right.

Kay, so obvious magic goes unremarked upon, not even a “nice trick with the lights, is that suppose to convince me”.

Also, either someone's been stalking Bloom, or Dowling is some kind of Mind Fairy.

FIRE

Once upon a time, it was my favorite possession, the fanciest book I owned, with golden swirls on the cover. But I’d grown up and packed the book into my old toy chest along with my teddy bears. I’d thought I was long past fairy tales.

That was before I used magic to burn down my house. My toy chest and my fairy-tale book had burned, too.

Creators kick my nostalgia for the lulz: 01

My book of fairy tales hadn’t included a swarm of kids around my age. One long-legged, capable-looking African American chick strode by, wearing a denim jacket and carrying a bag full of athletic gear. Wait, she wasn’t African American. Fairies didn’t have Africa or America. I didn’t know the name of the fairy realm I was currently in. Also, I hadn’t pictured fairies being into extreme sports.

Another girl, pale with a cloud of brown hair, was clutching several plants to her bosom as she hurried across the courtyard. A third sauntered by, vaguely punk rock and olive-skinned and wearing enormous headphones that buzzed faintly on her ears. I hadn’t pictured fairies rocking out, either.

Oh look, this Bloom also subscribes to the: “it's not whitewashing if they're aliens” theory

There was a rangy guy with skinny jeans, overly sardonic eyebrows, and a knife-bridge nose. California had plenty of white boy edgelords, but this edgelord had an actual knife. Oh no, actual knife! I wasn’t interested in getting to know Knife Boy better.

Called out Riven.

A stunning blonde girl with porcelain skin was taking a selfie with a group of overawed younger students. A luminous wisp floated in the air, making her glossy hair shine. Talk about a beauty angle. Seemingly, fairies could create their own beauty lighting.

Bloom is gay for Stella count: 01

I sneaked a look at him and grinned. His hair had coiffed peaks like a gold helmet and his shirt was pink, which I liked because gender stereotypes were for the weak. He even had a summer tan that fishbelly-pale redheaded me could only dream of. But no matter how cute he was, I wasn’t going to encourage him.

“I guess that means we have to do this forever. There are worse things, but—”

I stopped and turned to him. “I don’t need help, but thanks.”

Now I was looking at him properly, Some Guy was very cute, with a hero jawline and a confident air. Some Guy might be cute, but I was the independent type.

By the way, it's very important you all know that Bloom is a strong independent woman™  who scoff at gender roles, because she's hip and edgy, but she's like, totes not an edgelord(!) She's cool(!) Even if she hates her super pale skin.

Some of the chandeliers in this place were so dainty and delicate, they looked like stars suspended on gilt ribbons. The rooms were large and bright, with sunbeams dyed by stained-glass windows that were as intricate as the embroidery on a princess’s hem. Much of the stained glass was different shades of green, subtly coloring the air around us as though we were in a world made of jade and emerald.

Welcome to the Emerald City of Oz?

She continued talking, full of ennui about the fairy-tale castle, while I sneaked another look at her ring. “If you ever want to go back,” Stella said as she deliberately flashed it at me. She was making some kind of power play, and I didn’t know why.

Stella might be a bitch now, but I'm pretty sure It's only because Stella is also Diaspro in this reality?

FIRE

There was a realm called Eraklyon, which sounded like a dragon clearing its throat.

I mean... that's one way to pronounce it? I guess?

FIRE

I’d do anything for my parents, including lie to them about my new boarding school in Definitely Switzerland. 

Your parents didn't ask about any paper work? They just accepted that you were moving overseas without warning? Who's paying for this alleged boarding school? Actually how are you paying for school?

We’d get dressed up and she’d play me cheerleader-type music. I remembered one chant that went Close your eyes and open your heart! The cheesy brainwashing hadn’t worked. I never much cared about frilly princess gowns, but I liked the idea of being at home in my princess castle.

Creators kick my nostalgia for the lulz: 02

In what beautiful blonde Stella had called the Winx suite—a bright series of rooms with tall windows and a view I couldn’t allow my parents to see—only one person got a room of their own. To my total lack of surprise, that person was Stella.

Bloom is gay for Stella count: 02

Creators kick my nostalgia for the lulz: 03

Really? That's how you're chosing to shoe-horn the Winx brand in? It just happens to be the name of their dorm. Sorry, their 'suite'.

When Mom, always waiting for my transformation into Ms. Popular, asked about the other girls, I shrugged. “Honestly, it’s five girls in an enclosed space, so … it’s only a matter of time before we descend into a Lord of the Flies situation and kill one another.”

So... no. Lord of the Flies is an extension of a study in relation to a very specific mono-ethnic (white), male and privileged group. It is literally young rich white boys, and the break down in community and sense of ethics that results in their single bias attitudes in the face of adversity.

The Winx are firstly female, multi-ethnic (not as much as they should be) and from a variety of socioeconomic backgrounds. If it devolves into murder, it will be vicious but it will not be “Lord of the Flies.” Find a better reference.

I busied myself with unpacking to hide my discomfort. “Ms. Dowling said there’s a fairy somewhere in my family tree? A long-dormant magical bloodline?” I sighed. “One day I will get used to how ridiculous all this sounds.”

Aisha’s surprise became wry amusement. “Oh my God. Have I just met the one person in the universe who’s never read Harry Potter?”

… why is that your conclusion? Long lost princess/prince/hero/magical heir swept up for adventure is a common trope. It doesn't make it feel any less ridiculous.

I wondered if any of my new suitemates ever felt that way. Happy bustling Terra, cool girl Musa, glamorous Stella, and Aisha who seemed so grounded.

It is so amazing how the girls that Bloom just happened to notice outside, you know, the only girls Bloom noticed outside, are all her roommates.

MIND

Terra’s super sweet voice revved into overdrive, picking up speed and frantic pleasantness on the way. “She’s just having fun. And I know it’s a lot. Shocker, Earth Fairy named Terra likes plants. It’s a family thing. I’ve got a cousin named Flora. My mom’s name is Rose, and my dad works in the greenhouse here. That’s why I know a lot of the second years. I grew up around Alfea, and—”

ohp, there it is

Creators kick my nostalgia for the lulz:04

“Stella’s a second year? Why is she in a suite full of first years?”

“Oh yeah. Actually … I don’t know. Some administrative thing last year? I mean, I think …”

I think you’re lying, thought Musa. She turned her back and dipped her power toward Terra, getting a faint sense that …

Somehow I doubt it was blowing up a potions lab in pursuit of a new shade of pink.

SPECIALIST

Less cool was Sky, Riven’s super annoying best friend in the whole world, who was rattling on about the ginger girl from the human world he’d met yesterday. Riven was sure she was crazy. He knew this because crazy was what Sky looked for in a woman.

So Riven is Riven and Brandon, okay.

I hate these assholes.

Riven bared his teeth. “Correction: I got high this summer.”

… : /

There was no real point trying to beat Sky. He was the best. Anyone in Alfea could tell you that … right after they told you Riven was the worst.

There was no real point, but Riven kept trying to beat Sky, anyway. Hey, nobody ever said Riven was smart.

… >:(

Sky’s dad was Andreas of Eraklyon, the dead legendary hero, slayer of the Burned Ones. Sky’s dad-substitute was Specialist Headmaster Silva, their fearless leader with the cold blue eyes and passion for early morning runs.

So many dead parents suddenly

He passed the blue, shimmering Barrier and went into the deep, dark woods. He could almost hear Silva’s voice now, telling the first years that the Barrier was their magical shield against the Burned Ones. Beware those merciless monsters with their inhuman strength and speed, never mind that nobody’s seen one in sixteen years, woo woo, so scary.

And Bloom is how old? Also: guess who’s about to start showing up suddenly! Trick question, it’s the Burned Ones, the ones we’ve already been told are the new series’ enemy.

EARTH

Their suite was called the Winx suite, which was such a cool name. Maybe they could call themselves the Winx Club?

Yep, they're going with that, okay. 

You couldn’t even name the suit Wings in the kind of obnoxious cursive that makes it look like Winx and have Bloom misread it and become a running joke amongst the girls?!?!?!

Terra nervously eyed the food laid out on the tables before them. Sometimes she felt as if food might bite her before she bit into it. She couldn’t take cookies. All the other girls in the Winx suite were so skinny and pretty. If Terra ate a bunch of cookies, people would say, “No wonder she looks like that.” But if Terra got a plate full of carrots, people would say, “Who does she think she’s kidding, when she looks like that?” It was hard to know what to do.

Wow, just, wow. Terra honey, they do you so dirty. Fat girls don't have to hate themselves, just a note for the creators. And Terra, baby, if people gonna talk shit either way, you eat whatever the f*ck you want.

(If this is not the set up for a personal growth arc in which Terra learns to not-hate-her-body and that she is worth loving regardless, and the creators really think plus sized folks just hate themselves as a constant state of being, I'mma be so unbelievably pissed off.)

She wasn’t going to hunt for her annoying brother.

Hold up, Terra has a brother?

FIRE

I still needed a breather. “Where can I go that’s the opposite of this? What’s outside?”

Cute Guy looked alarmed. “Past the Barrier? Depending on the rumors, bears or wolves or something much scarier.”

Did you not hear about the dead body? The very mutilated dead body? Sky, buddy? You're not going to bring up the very murdered and mutilated dead body in order to prevent the new girl from a foreign world (that you want to bang) from going into actual and legitimate danger? No?

I thought about Stella saying once she knew me, she’d find something to love about me.

It made me smile.

Bloom is gay for Stella count: 03

As if I’d conjured her by thinking about her, Stella’s voice rang out. “Hey, Sky. Can we talk?”

Stella was wearing her flawless new outfit and holding two drinks. Every twinkly light in the courtyard caught gold in her hair. She was looking right at Cute Guy, whose name was apparently Sky. From Sky’s expression, he knew Stella pretty well.

Yeah, Stella is Diaspro now

EARTH

Oh, for the love of … Riven was menace-flirting at some poor Specialist boy. This was Riven’s typical behavior when he felt off balance. Terra had once witnessed Riven looming at a fern in a way that suggested he either wanted to prune viciously or make out.

I... what???

“Really? Bullying the new kid? Be more obvious.”

Riven smirked, because of course he did. “Can’t bully the willing. Right?”

There was something loaded about Riven’s tone.

“I don’t know what that means!” the new boy said sharply.

The new boy was clearly feeling uncomfortable. Terra sympathized. The poor thing mustn’t take Riven’s terrible personality personally.

Well, someone belongs on a sex offenders registry. What the f*ck Terra, don't excuse this shit, it's not okay.

“But sometimes we’ve had a bad day, and a scrawny little twerp says the wrong thing at the wrong time,” Terra purred. “And all of a sudden, we’re not happy you’re talking to us. And we’re not nice. And most of all, we’re not harmless.”

“purred”, really? You gonna make it sound sensual? Let the girl Snarl! Damnit!

The vines were suffocating him so he couldn’t even talk. It was so nice and peaceful.

Terra smiled sweetly. “What’s that, Riv? I’m sure it’s clever. I just can’t hear you.”

His face turned red. He was about to pass out, Terra noted, still with that feeling of cheery distance. She shouldn’t actually let him faint. Riven would hate that.

Uhhh, so Terra might have psychopathic tendencies and maybe a dissociative disorder.

She shouldn’t actually let him faint. Riven would hate that.

Yeah, and his victim would have hated being assaulted, choke this douche.

Gods above I cannot stress how much I hate this Riven in comparison to OG Riven, and I was not OG Riven's biggest fan.

FIRE

THESE ARE THE SCENES FROM THE TRAILER!!!!!

Bloom continues to be a dumbass.

WATER

Aisha wasn’t used to Alfea, but she was used to being part of a team. 

Well someone hasn't watched the show.

How her mother and Bloom had been fighting about her social life, and how Bloom would rather fix old lamps than cheerlead.

Who is this woman, where is Vanessa? And Bloom's art thing? The lamps sounds interesting, but I've never seen sign of it yet, was it cut for time?

“It was almost like the fire had a life of its own,” Bloom went on. “I don’t remember how long I let it burn. I just remember their screams.”

When Bloom finished the story, she was clearly fighting back tears. A subtle, weary tremor went through her frame, like a runner past her endurance. It seemed like Bloom had been fighting for a long time.

“My mom was covered in third-degree burns,” Bloom said. “Because of me. And if I hadn’t gone in there to stop it? To stop what I started?” She looked completely burned out.

“Every night after that, I sneaked out. I was so scared I’d hurt them again that I slept in this creepy-ass warehouse near home. Until Ms. Dowling found me and …”

Given the Tragic Backstory™ , I'm actually a little surprised Bloom didn't straight up run away from home completely, the fact that she went back at all...

“I’ve heard the story of my birth a million times.” Bloom’s tone brooked no argument. “Miracle baby. There was a problem with my heart in the womb, but the day after I was born, it was gone.”

Aisha went cold. “Oh God,” she breathed. “You’re a changeling.”

Because Bloom needs to be even more Special™, this is doing nothing to ruin my theory Bloom is a Burned One, by the way. (Actually starting to think Burned Ones are Fire Fairies whose powers pretty much consumed them or cursed that way or something along those lines.)

So where's the “real” Bloom Peters? Was the fetus even real, or just a simulacrum to have something to switch MC Bloom with?

MIND

Stella’s tone gave Musa pause. Plus, Musa could tell Aisha was really upset. Deliberately, she let her powers turn on, and faced Stella with her eyes glowing.

I'm sorry, I thought Musa couldn't control her powers and that’s why she “has to wear her headphones at all times to block out the noise of other peoples emotions”, now she can 'deliberately turn them on'? When did this happen? Did I miss some Implications?

“You’re a Mind Fairy,” Aisha observed, but there was no other judgment.

Aisha turned to Stella just as Terra came out of her and Musa’s room.

“A Mind Fairy?” Terra repeated sharply. “What’s your connection? Memories, thoughts—”

Okay, so now we learn there are different types of mind fairies. Explain to me why Musa is an Empath with Synthetic input? ('hearing' feelings, or experiencing them in a way that registers as audio.) Is this a “Song of their Hearts” reference, because I don't feel like that was done on purpose if it is.

Only Terra was moving toward Stella, and the way she moved wasn’t Terra’s usual going-nowhere happy bustle. The way Terra moved was that of a woman on the warpath.

Musa was almost impressed.

“She was talking to Sky, wasn’t she?” Terra demanded.

“And?” Stella demanded haughtily in return.

Terra pursued: “And I know what happened to the last person who talked to Sky. I was here last year, remember?”

A crack appeared in Stella’s veneer as she shot back, “You don’t know the full story!”

Didn’t seem like Terra cared. “Ricki was your best friend, then she talked to Sky. Now she’s not here anymore. Why is that again?”

Yeah, definitely getting the feeling DiaStella isn't being held back for a Pursuit of Pink Potions accident.

FIRE

There was even more rustling than usual in the detritus piled in the warehouse corners, but I didn’t care.

Why teleport there? Is there a Rule about where Portals can go? Or is is just Because Bloom felt this was the best place to pop in?

“You don’t have to be okay,” Mom assured me. “You’re only sixteen. Being that far away is a huge deal.”

Dad said gently, “I couldn’t have done it when I was your age. Be thankful you got your mom’s bravery.”

But now I knew that wasn’t true. I didn’t get anything from my mom. No wonder I was always such a disappointment to her.

Osmosis [noun] Def. 2. the process of gradual or unconscious assimilation of ideas, knowledge, etc..

You have some damn decent parents by the sounds of this scene, even if your mother is sure you're a likeable human being who will have friends one day, why are you this way?! For the Angst points?!

Only I could see Mom through the kitchen window. She didn’t seem disappointed. She looked so happy just to be talking to me. How could I ever tell her what I did to her? How could I ever tell her what I was?

Okay, so this line is bringing back the “they deserve to know what I am” line from the trailer, and now I'm torn between “The Winx deserve to know Bloom is a Burned One” and “my parents deserve to know I'm a Magical Fire Fairy (who burned down our house) and maybe a Changeling and thus not their biological daughter technically, maybe.”

My parents told me they loved me. I knew I loved them. And I knew I didn’t belong here. Maybe I never had.

May I advise you: remove your angst blanket, turn on a light and clean the room to remove the Dark and Gritty filters of your life.

I heard faint whispers. Sibilant. Strange.

Sibilant means hissing by the way. In case anyone was wondering.

The monster was on the grate above me.

I crawled as fast as I could. The ring was on the other side of the mesh, but there was a hole just big enough for my hand to get through. I reached for the ring, almost had it.

But in the crawl space in front of me, past the barrier, the shadow of the creature passed on top of the grate. The monster bashed frantically at the grate. Once. Twice. Until with a ringing metallic crash, the monster fell into the claustrophobic space with me.

I made one last grab for the ring, but the monster slammed its hand down on it.

Oh man, if only telekinesis was one of the most basic of Fairy abilities Bloom might have been able to do something, but no, it's basic bitch elements or nothing.

SPECIALIST

I really freaking hate this version of Sky, just, so much.

Terra has her suspicions about the Stella-Sky dynamic and she just, 'oh they's in love at first sigh nothing could possibly go wrong here' hand the number over? Really?

Diaspro!Stella confirmed?

[sparkie96]

“Break the Chains” Preview

(Summary: Vergil originally came to Spain looking for something to strengthen himself after his defeat at the hands of Dante and after his liberation from Mundus. He ends up finding more than he originally intended to. 

Leon manages to get Ashley back home, but had failed to save himself from Saddler. Good thing Vergil shows up while he’s being humiliated. Rated M for Suggestive Themes, Violence, and Language.)

The sky was the same color gray it had been all morning, making it difficult to determine what time of the day it was. The road had been long and unforgiving, and Vergil hoped he would find what he was looking for when he got to the area. The demons and their weapons that he could use for his own use...or at least help him defeat his own brother, now that the threat of Mundus was no longer. 

But Dante? Defeat after defeat, time after time...it was becoming taxing. He couldn't beat him and no matter how he tried to avoid him, he couldn't shake him. Soon, Vergil would need to figure out either a new way to beat Dante...or perhaps, choose a different path entirely.

Most likely the latter if he continued on like this. 

But, here he was, traversing the backwater hellhole of Spain's lesser known areas in search of what? He really didn't know what it was yet. The Alpha was tired and he hoped he could find whatever it was he had been sent out here to find. He hoped it wasn't just a fool's dream or empty rumors. 

As he had gotten closer, he could hear laughter and music, but it wasn't like the other dozens of times he had heard either. No, the laughter was not like that of happiness...or perhaps it was but at the expense of another person's happiness or well being. Like how Mundus used to laugh when watching Vergil suffer. That sadistic type of laugh that made one's spine ice over in fear...or made one's heart light with rage. It was an evil sound.

And Vergil was plenty familiar with evil. 

He continued his trek into the village, wearing his hood lower over his eyes just in case. He had been away from the human world for a very long time, and there was no telling what these beastly creatures were like now. The ones he had encountered when he went through another nearby village hadn’t been very friendly, at least not by human standards. And he was pretty sure that humans' heads were not supposed to explode into thrashing tentacles nor were they supposed to have such deep crimson eyes. 

As he entered the town square, he noticed that there had been a small crowd, gathered around what he could not see, but he could see a sort of platform. On said platform, seated in a red throne was a man, wearing purple robes with a staff of some sort. The staff was clearly not normal, tentacles protruding from it and flailing freely about. The man in question didn't look normal either, gold orbs focused on something down below as his head sat propped in his hand. The leader, if Vergil had to guess. Why else would he be sitting higher than everyone else and seated in such a gaudy throne? 

Speaking of everyone else, the crowd laughed and mocked whatever was in the center of them. Some threw rotten fruit and vegetables, others threw coins. This made the white-haired man even more confused. Vergil managed to push through the crowd, head kept low as he made his way to the middle and then the front. He seemingly was able to blend in with them, letting him pass with ease. Once he got to the front, he wasn’t sure what he had been seeing, but he felt very disgusted. 

In the center of the circle was a petite blond male in very odd garb. Had it not been for the demeaning words in Spanish or the way the men holding him down while the one beat him and shoved him down, shoving his face down into the dirt, Vergil would have assumed the blonde to be one of the crowd and made for entertainment. It was obvious that the blond was supposed to be entertainment, but he wasn’t enjoying it and he was clearly not one of them. Dull looking eyes flickered from blue to red back to blue, staring ahead and clawing at the ground, as if doing so would get him out of this situation. 

“Still so stubborn, American.” The leader laughed, “Just submit...enjoy yourself. You know you want to. You have no reason to fight anymore.” 

Vergil looked to “The American”, feeling...something as their eyes met. It was like the blond knew that Vergil was not like the others, and Vergil wasn’t sure what to think. He shook his head slowly as the human looked at him. He felt that pang of...pain? Fear? The laughter and sounds rang in his ears, he could hear his mother’s voice in the distance, calling out and yelling his name...hearing her screams. The humans or whatever they were twisted into demonic looking creatures, leering down at him. 

He clenched his eyes shut and swallowed back another breath, trying to push back the horrifying memories. He had felt weak...he couldn’t save his mother. He met the human’s eyes and he didn’t know if it was in his head or not, but he swore the blond begged him for help, a hand weakly outstretched toward him. 

“VERGIL!” Eva had screamed, his mother’s eyes flashing before his own as he heard her blood curdling screams. 

He hadn’t even been thinking when he took out his sword, his usually calm composure melting away as he tore off the ratted cloak he had been wearing over top of his usual outfit before he began cutting down the humanoid creatures around him. He couldn’t hear the screams as he cut them down, in fact, it didn’t even sound like they were screaming at all. More so hollering in anger, even as the Yamato sliced them down. 

It made killing them that much more satisfying. 

“Get up.” Vergil commanded, grasping the blond’s arm and hauling him to his feet. 

The half-demon looked away at the blond’s current state of undress, taking off his trench coat and wrapping it around the human’s shoulders, instructing the younger to button it up. Vergil cut down more of the insane villagers. The cult leader stood above them, laughing and asking Vergil who he was and what he thought he was doing here. And why was he so intent on ruining his fun punishment of the “American Agent”. 

“You don’t even know who this man is, do you?” Saddler asked, “Leon here ruined my plans, killed my men, and let the President’s daughter flee...him and his collaborators.” 

Vergil leveled his sword at the man, watching him cautiously while standing protectively in front of this “Leon”. He growled low at the remaining villagers and their leader, settling on the pus colored gaze of the man before him. He didn’t know why...but he felt this strong need to protect the human behind him. Whether it was because he was reminded of his failure to protect his mother...or his failure to fight back against Mundus. 

And the bastard before him wasn’t helping that anger. 

He had been on autopilot when he killed this man and the remaining villagers, turning to the human before him. Leon hadn’t moved an inch, still too paralyzed with either fear or shock...maybe both. The blond looked up at him, his irises now a red color, like the others. Except this man wasn’t attacking him. His eyes seemed to fade from red to blue, Vergil cupping his chin and looking into his eyes. 

“You’re not like the others.” Vergil stated, “But you have whatever they have.” 

Leon looked up at him, nodding his head, “They infected me with the Plaga.”

Vergil hummed, “Good...I need it.” 

Leon narrowed his eyes at the man, raising a brow, “...what?” 

“The “Plaga” as you put it...I need it.” Vergil elaborated, “It made that man stronger...so I believe it could do the same for me.” 

The human was quiet for a moment, before bursting out into a fit of laughter in an almost hysteric manner. Vergil raised a brow, looking down at the younger with interest and mild annoyance. He had just saved Leon’s life...and the blond was laughing at him. Leon cleared his throat as he settled down, apologizing for laughing, but clarifying that the parasite wasn’t exactly an “energy booster”. More of something that took over and killed whatever consciousness that was left in their mind. 

“It takes over…” Leon recalled, “It makes you feel like shit...and then it takes over until there’s nothing left.” 

Vergil listened intently, “I would still like to examine it...if you don’t mind.” 

Leon took another deep breath, but then looked up at the man skeptically, “Who are you?” 

“You’ll find out when I get that parasite.” 

“...yeah...not gonna happen…” Leon replied, “It’s kind of attached to my spinal cord…” 

Now it was Vergil’s turn to raise a brow as Leon explained to the best of his ability about how the parasite attached itself to the spine of its host after it hatched. Leon also showed him the pills he took to suppress the growth of the parasite. Even after his capture, he had been able to take them and resist the parasite and Saddler’s influence over him through it. 

“Except it looks like I’m stuck with it.” Leon sighed, “Considering he destroyed the machine and the only way to get this damn thing out of me...and I’ve only got a few of these pills left.” 

Vergil looked the human over, stroking his chin as he did so, an idea coming to mind, “I think I can help in a way that we both can get what we want.” 

“How so?” Leon asked. 

Vergil proposed Leon coming back with him to his realm. He may or may not have had means to get the parasite out of him, feeling pity for the younger after all that had happened to him. He didn’t want the human to suffer anymore than necessary. When Leon questioned him about his intentions, and why the man had helped him, Vergil admitted that he understood what it felt like to be humiliated by the enemy. To be a slave to the will of another. And he wanted to help Leon “break the chains”. 

“I helped you, you help me.” Vergil said, using his sword and cutting a hole in the dimensions, “Do we have a deal, Mr…?” 

Leon held out a hand, giving a small smile, “Leon Kennedy.” 

Vergil looked down at the offered hand and then back up at the blonde, accepting it, “Vergil.” 

[xxsealitwithakissxx]

“We’re more ghosts than people.”

After around 5 months (I know that’s basically ages these days, but I wanted to take my time... then quarantine happened) and a lot of patience, boah that’s an understatement, I can say it was worth it.

I figured it was fitting to end on the character we started with.

                                         “Vengeance is an idiot's game.”

I know most post stuff like this on reddit, but honestly I rarely feel comfortable posting there. I’m not exactly a prolific ‘cowgirl’, what long history I’ve accumulated over the course of many months can possibly be said that hasn’t already resulting in hundreds of upvotes? I mean, I’m happy for those people, it simply makes me all the more nervous. Also, ignore the Compendium. Just.... jesus, I can not. 360 is close enough, imo. Anyway, knowing it’s over feels equally like having a weight lifted and leaving a close friend behind knowing you might not see them again. I was literally a day from getting this on my birthday, lol.

Does that sound exaggerated? Probably. Yes, the game managed to hit me in the feels more than once on certain occasions. Ngl, I imagine my day one horse Sauron was probably in horse-y heaven looking down like ‘fuck all you had to do was leave me in the stables but naw fam, you had to be a hero’. That scene had me pissed more than anything. The fact that we left him there, without a grave or anything just... pffft. That actually made me turn off the game for a bit. That and the Lenny plus Hosea bit. And the Molly bit. And Susan bit. And I may have gone back and burned a rat. But you know what? Let’s move on.

It didn’t help that my dear mother had taken to alternating between watching and helping me make decisions throughout the story (*cough*novel*cough*) and became attached to some of the characters, notably Orthor. I spelled that correctly, I swear. She was on the verge of tears more than once, just don’t tell her I said that. :p

What baffled yet continued to draw me in most is watching the downfall of the charismatic, prideful (c’mon look at that gif), and arguably hypocritical leader Dutch and his loyal fanbase gang. By the third chapter’s ending, shit hit the fan so much I wondered how everyone still alive managed to stay within the group, or be relatively sane enough by the 6th chapter. I had never seen such loyalty in a video game before. Seriously. Mind you, I hadn’t played the first game (I will eventually once my recovery period is over, lol) and still knew some of what happened to the ‘Miltons’, so the ending didn’t hit too hard.

Perhaps it’s just my personal rl issue with the ‘blind leading the blind’, but I had a little gripe with a bunch of... mostly capable adults following this one man by word alone from camp to camp while running from the law and not once questioning if they should wake up tomorrow and go, hey, maybe I’ll try to think for myself today. Granted, they were a makeshift family of sorts, I can understand how they all came to trust Dutch after hearing each individual backstory. It’s teetering on the very edge of CULT LEADER I AM A CULT LEADER, but I can still understand the why’s and how’s that came to be the Van Der Linde gang, jokes aside. He is above all, human, and coupled with his inability to ‘fight nature’ I think that is what makes him so intriguing to watch (Not to mention Benjamin‘s phenomenal voice acting...and the whole cast for that matter). I notice a certain theme that people rarely, if ever seem to speak of in old westerns that is sometimes present. One man strolls into some obscure  town and threatens to take over, be it with violence or by other means, with or without a gang of dunderheads trailing his wake, and the townsfolk willingly surrender. Until of course one unsung hero snatches said villain’s glory of badassary from under him and all is right again.

RDR2 isn’t like that. Not entirely. My point is it has elements of this sprinkled inside its storyline. At least, for the first and second half. It both confused and irritated me that most people were so easily brought back then, maybe it’s still like that now at times with Social Media so present in our lives, but I digress. I’m not writing this to step on toes or tell you what to believe, I just wanted to share this experience. A 120hr (hello fellow completionists) or so journey into a redemption story, a remarkably immense detailed landscape, and its colorful yet very complex characters. Despite some plot holes here and there, which I’d expect for a prequel of this size, I think I identify with John the most. Charles as well. Not trying to downplay his shortcomings, but he never really brought into Dutch’s bullshit plans, not truly anyway. As they say hindsight is 20/20. When listening those early camp dialogues and later ones you can tell just how in depth the writing goes, I’d argue that half the specific lines at camp and reading Arthur’s journal are better than what the cutscenes have to spell out for you.

I won’t linger on what’s been said a hundred times, how much a lot of us love Orthor (I’m sorry I’ll leave) and most of the other members, along with the immersive gameplay. It certainly didn’t become boring as I initially thought. I’m not too big on westerns... Roy Rogers, Bat Masterson, Maverick, and of course the Fist Full of Dollars trilogy suffice really. I actually wonder if R* will be able to top it. Two years later and some people are still in their feelings about it like it came out yesterday. With that type of impact, it will definitely be a challenge.

Now what’s left? Oh, a few stranger missions and some places I haven’t explored fully... Hmm. Or maybe I’ll try out 100% on pc...

Ha. The epitome of my humor ends there because I’d rather be hit by that train. How my hands aren’t broken or severely bruised is anyone’s guess. But really, thanks for reading if you made this far. Stay safe, guys. <3

[shinra-makonoid]

1. I know you meant it in a sarcastic way but do you think TRAs are the reason so many ftms feel more welcome in radfem spaces? Because many of them if they 'came out' as a radfem usually had the experience of being repressed homosexuals that clearly have no connection to GD by the way the tell from their perspective. (such as being obviously urged by the environment to transition, whereas most transsexuals (in my experience) try to convince themselves of the opposite/ find excuses).

2. In many bios I notice the description 'former-dysphoric female' or 'victim of the gender cult' like they realize they were obviously only exposed to the 'tucute' side and never met real transsexuals (which to be fair is kinda rare but still). I'm just wondering what makes someone switch to radical feminism when they had so opposite views. Because I did hold radfem beliefs as a teen but had no opportunity to share them. I kinda grew out of it.

3.But why? I know you don't know me but I always wondered how someone came up with these beliefs like Dworking, Simone de Beauvoir. Cause I reached the same conclusion as them despite never reading anything from them. And that's scary. You said you were a tucute. How did you came to this? And how did you get away? Do you think some people will always stay in these cult-like groups and why do some have the ability to get out and some don't? Is it biological or social that some can('t) do that?

There’s many thoughts with this so it’ll be long and potentially messy.

I know you meant it in a sarcastic way but do you think TRAs are the reason so many ftms feel more welcome in radfem spaces?

I’m not sure TRA are the reason so many FtM feel more welcomed by radfem spaces. But I’m pretty sure that mainstream feminism in itself has a hand in this. GNC females (trans or not) usually feel out of place regarding their own place in society, and feminism is right there to pick them up. From there, they have a community in which they can rely on, with a specific set of beliefs to follow. You have basically two major communities of feminism, the libfem and the radfem.

Radfems are like the special club of the “enlightened ones”, while libfem are the lazy ones who just follow the trend of feminism. So, I suppose, depending on how implicated you are in feminism and gender, you get to be close to one or the other. There is also the fact that homosexuality/bisexuality in itself will come with a set of experience as a young woman who will surely push you more on the more radical side.

I long time ago now, when I was still a TRA, I’ve known someone who didn’t know if they identified as a lesbian or a FtM, and was heavily in the radfem discourse. We discoursed a lot together, and despite our very different views, we managed to bond. They brought me to nuance my views and reach that kind of “peak” where you actually realize that biological sex DOES exist in fact (crazy right). And I helped them realizing that the radfem discourse wasn’t always godspell. Idk what happened to them since, it’s been a long time. But anyway, it really made me tend to the other side of the balance, even though I’ve never subscribed to it, because I couldn’t, with my own existence, you know? At least there’s something in me that wouldn’t.

I think a lot of FtM comes through that path at some point, and violently shift to the other side as a reaction from when they were a TRA. Finally they are “enlightened to the truth of the world”, and therefore become radical feminists, because they HAVE to be a type of feminism (because otherwise they say that it means you don’t support women’s equality, and you are not appreciated). I personally stayed a long time with a feminist label, before understanding how crappy it was, by wondering about the male side.

__

Which brings me to the other point. As girls of our generation, we all were raised with feminism in mind. It’s an ideology that was thrown at our throat. Every time that we did something that wasn’t “typically feminine”, it was feminism. Playing with the boys was feminism. Playing video games was feminism. Going to STEM was feminism. Not wearing dresses was feminism. Our normal behavior (GNC behavior) became feminist. We became, despite ourselves, some kind of representant of the powerful female that we “needed” to be, to bring back some balance in the world. It’s very dehumanizing when you think about it. We are warriors for the feminist belief, and our simple behavior is suddenly perceived as something courageous when it is simply how we exist. So, even if you don’t read the feminist books and all that shit, you are still bound to feel like a flavor of feminism, by the simple fact that you exist. Add to that, that it’s very socially good to be seen as a feminist. I think that’s how most of us get trapped in that.

We are social creatures. Finding our peers is a necessary step for us to stay alive. And if it comes with a set of beliefs that need to adopt, then so be it. That’s how we get in.

__

I know you don't know me but I always wondered how someone came up with these beliefs like Dworking, Simone de Beauvoir. Cause I reached the same conclusion as them despite never reading anything from them.

Why did you come to the same conclusion as people who supposedly did sociological thesis and were eminent respected people in my country? Because it’s what felt right, it’s your intuition, your set of beliefs based on your biased experience that showed you that. It’s the same reason as to why all culture have a religion. We love to believe, we need to believe, and we love wishing for things to be the way we think they are. It’s the reason why those people were fake. They based all of their observation on their personal life and wishful thinking. They created a world that they had in their head, and projected it on reality.

It was very easy for me to think that males were abusers on the basis of my experience. I was already mindful of men, because that’s what I was taught from my family, but my bad experiences reinforced it, and feminism magnified it to a phobia. It’s this endless circle of people validating your biases, an echo chamber but on a life-scale. People who believe or behave a certain way will stick with the other people who believe and behave a certain way, as we’re a tribal creature.

__

TRA/Radfem, any cult-like thing, will have that. They will discourage you from considering the opinion and the view of the other side, because it will be deemed as being false/wrong/sin, and will also continue to validate the things that you already believe over and over again. They ARE the enlightened ones. They are the ones who discovered the truth among the falsehood. They are sure, persuaded of what they think, that it is the Truth. 

They also spew a very anxiety-driving feeling. Radfems are persuaded that all females who transition are brainwashed by the cult. Do you want your fellow females to end up in a cult and hurting themselves? Obviously not! So you help them, you try to convert them, because you feel the urgency of the situation. “She needs to be saved”. It’s a bit like the Christian persuaded they need to save you from hell.

__

Do you think some people will always stay in these cult-like groups and why do some have the ability to get out and some don't? Is it biological or social that some can('t) do that?

With time, and seeing all of these groups, I became sure of one thing. Certainty is poison, in my opinion. The world is made of nuances, and a lot of them we can’t yet grasp accurately. I am certain of nothing. I try to doubt at every step, and for everything, because in the end, even if it’s very uncomfortable, it is also the best way I found to be able to navigate without getting too stuck somewhere. I have beliefs that are still tied to my values, I will probably always have those, because we aren’t machines. But I am aware of that, and it allows me to take a step back, and think “Why is that so important for me to believe in?” “Why do I believe what I believe?”

Those two questions are the fundamental ones that need to be asked, in order for someone to rationally think. Along with that, you have to understand what constitute a fact, and how to differenciate it from an opinion. The people who get stuck in cult-like mentality are the ones who do that. But it’s not something that you just do. It’s really something to live by. Skepticism. I am lucky because in France, there are a lot of content for people to understand better science and skepticism in general. It really helped me.

Some people won’t ask themselves those questions because they never thought about it. Some people won’t ask themselves those questions because the feeling coming from it is very bad. When I shifted away from the TRA belief, it was a nightmare. When I looked into the HSTS part and how they didn’t believe in any “gender identity” the way we conceive it, I was also crushed. It’s a bad feeling, to feel the way you view the world getting destroyed by other views. It leaves us with uncertainty, fear, vulnerability, that we have to handle. We are left with more questions, less answers. It’s not easy. I would go as far as saying it’s physically painful.

It is easier to just repeat the same mantra, and get stuck with that feeling of certainty that is comforting. It is safe, and you have people thinking the same way you do, you are never alone anymore, you don’t doubt anymore. You know the truth, after all! It’s a very pleasant feeling, to know the truth. But is it an accurate depiction of reality? We are all guilty in that. You, me, the most rational person in this world is guilty of it.

__

What matters to you? Having the most accurate reality you can grasp, or your comfort and sensation of having the truth in your hand? The answer to that might be obvious, but it is actually a very difficult one, that one has to ask themselve often.

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

Okay so I wanted to make a seperate post about this because it’s got me like  🤔 but i didn’t wanna get too off topic with my answer. context? The wonderful @luxury-of-insanity asked me to take a look at a pic of Tyreen he took during the We are Mayhem trailer. Here is the screencap he took for reference (because it’s infinitely higher quality than any of the ones I would take aha)

The topic was Ty’s tattoos and I noticed something really, really interesting here that I didn’t pick up on from the cosplay guide (like they were deliberately not showing where her tattoos end)

her tattoos stop before her shirt

she is clipping thru her jacket a little bit here lol but the point is, that big tattoo bit just cuts off before it goes under her shirt. Just like Troy’s don’t go down his abdomen

Now as I understand it there are a couple reasons why this could be:

there is an awesome theory that Siren tattoos get bigger and more expansive the more powerful (and, usually, the older, im guessing) a Siren gets

Ty has unique tattoos like her brother, where they are different because they’re twins (? or something??)

Ty got her powers from a non-natural source- eg she isn’t a natural/normal Siren

The tattoos are fake and the source of her succ power is something else entirely

idk what the right answer is, but I'm gonna try to go through these 1 by 1. the first one has been talked about in depth a lot (on this blog) so i won’t be addressing it here, but the others i’ll try to talk more about!

minor commander lilith spoilers below the cut

so before we begin, i just want to point this out. All theories aside and looking at the facts: every Siren we know of at least has chest tattoos. Barring Angel, because we can’t see, every known Siren has tattoos that extend down her torso.

At the moment, Tyreen is super covered up. Unlike Troy, we never see anything except her arms/head/parts of her thigh. We don’t know if her tattoos extend beyond her shoulder/arm. Personally? I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t. Amara has her hip tattoos, but no leg tattoos, like Tyreen has no leg tattoos (you can see through the gaps in her pants)

it’s possible that Lilith is the exception (for any of the theories discussed) and the tattoos don’t normally extend down their left legs. We just don’t know for certain. I do think it’s interesting how covered up Ty is in general, considering every Siren we’ve met so far at the very least has shown off their chest/neck tattoos. 

Ty has unique arm-only tattoos like her brother, where they are different because they’re twins

Sooo the unique arm-only tattoos one. Not really much to say about this tbh? We know Troy’s tattoos 100% do not go further down his abdomen. 

Timeline wise, I really don’t think he gets the tattoos after Lily has her powers stolen, but I can’t say for certain. 

If it’s the case that his tattoos are 100% based off Lilith’s powers then idk if Ty having only arm tattoos would make sense. Maybe it’s because they’re being filtered through her powers that he only gets arm tattoos and not full tattoos? Maybe bc they are twins, Ty’s powers got split in the womb (explaining the only-arm tattoos) or whatever and they needed other powers to awaken (or heal, cause apparently he’s sick- that could be the tattoos) Troy’s or some shit. idk, just spitballing here. 

But yeah, looking at Troy’s tattoos and the way they don’t go down his abdomen, beyond his shoulder area, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ty’s don’t, either.

Moving on from that one mainly because I don’t have a lot to say due to lack of evidence/info on it lol

Ty got her powers from a non-natural source- eg she isn’t a natural/normal Siren

This theory i am a fan of and y’all know it lmao

There’s a bunch of ways this could have happened: they’re products of experimentation, maybe they met an alien that gave them the powers, it’s the product of a Vault (possibly the red Vault we see in the HBC).

For the first one, it’s possible it was a corporation, be it Maliwan/Atlas/Jakobs/Hyperion/etc. Maliwan and Atlas would be my first guesses, Atlas for reasons you guys already know and Maliwan because of their elemental focus (and for some reason being on Athenas/having Amara’s tattoos on a building in the Academic District?). Hyperion is also a strong contender because of their research with Angel, though I don’t know about this one... We know they’re under new ownership, and I can’t imagine Jack would’ve captured Lilith/been so protective of Angel if he knew he had another Siren. So I guess it’s possible they were created within the 7 years between bl2 and bl3... Jakobs I threw in cause they’re apparently having a hold on the story of Eden-6. Doubt it’s them, though. If it is i’m gonna be questioning everything i know lol

It could’ve also been Tannis, as we know she’s experimenting on Lilith and [Spoilers!] now has all of Jack’s research on Angel. I have been looking all throughout the Backburner but can’t figure out where she had been staying, so it’s possible she is staying somewhere off base until her and the other Crimson Raiders take to space. That would definitely give her some room to start some funky experiments. Though I am curious where she’d get the test subjects. Also, I just realized it’s possible she could set up a room like control core angel in order to capture the twins/Tyreen. I’ve seen it being discussed that she could also create the collar Jack made which has me like 👀. She could’ve also done her experiments between bl1 and bl2, which leaves her with 3ish years iirc. Though I don’t think she has a lot of info on Lilith before bl2.

It ALSO could’ve been a totally new outside force. Kinda would suck cause all the theories haha, but hey, it might happen. 

Oh part 2. It could’ve been some alien bullshit giving Ty Siren powers (not that... siren powers AREN’T alien bullshit already, but you know what I mean). We still don’t know what the Seraphs are, yet we’re supposed to fear their return. Well we know they’re able to create the Seraph Guardians (that drop Seraph Crystals), so maybe those were them experimenting with creating their own version of Sirens? Or maybe a rogue Eridian/Guardian (a smart one like the Watcher) giving out Siren powers to offset the balance of the universe (6 Sirens) for some reason (war is coming? maybe it’s a civil war between the Eridians). Or some new type of alien. We’ve seen so many new flora/fauna in bl3, I wouldn’t be surprised if they introduced a new race of aliens as well. (in this context I mean alien like... intelligent ones. at least on the rank of human. probably more tho, let’s be real). I also am looking at those demon dragon looking things, idk they seem really unique and I’m super curious to see how they come to play in the story. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were a product of an experiment as well. They seem to be inside an Eridian temple tho (I will make a post on this later prob)

part 3. kind of a play off part 2 but whatever. The tattoos came from a Vault. we see in the HBC wall art that looks like the twins opening a red Vault. I think this may be propaganda art and that it’s just part of the believer’s stuff, like “join our cause and this will happen!” as it shows the twins with boxes of food and guns and shit, but it’s possible that they’ve already opened it. Maybe Tyreen wants to absorb the powers of the other Vault Monsters because she thinks that will help her Vault-gifted powers grow stronger. We know as outsiders that all the Vaults lead to a huge power (Hector and also the website used to say “Universe-destroying power”), so maybe that power is super strong Siren powers? (full body tattoos hell yeah) Or can only be opened by all the Siren powers as a failsafe and that’s why Ty absorbed Lily’s... idk lol

Okay and my favorite one of all of the options we have:

The tattoos are fake and the source of her succ power is something else entirely

so. okay hear me out. I know her tattoos look like they’re glowing under the surface, but they’re super ‘perfect’ looking compared to the other Siren tattoos we’ve seen. Could also be a reason they’re products of an experiment, maybe these two theories tie together. (lol) My friend (@bonelesspotter​) also pointed out that it’s possible to use jellyfish to make cats glow in the dark. anyway. They also don’t seem to glow when she’s using her powers (which are black and red/orange instead of the normal purple/blue??) (also thank you for allowing me to see this @luxury-of-insanity) 

I made a post about the tattoos being fake as sort of a joke, where they saw how Lilith had a cult as the Firehawk (Ty does tell us to thank Lily for the ‘Firehawk’ powers) and decided to masquerade as Siren(s?) in order to build their cult up.

and it is slowly, slowly, looking more and more like the truth the more we learn about Ty lmao

I am gonna posit the idea that it’s not her tattoos that give her powers, but some other sort of technology.

possibly? hidden inside her glove??? idk

idk it just seems to clunky and BIG 

seriously, this thing is thicc, i could totally see some sort of drainage tech being hidden inside. I know Moxxi’s weapons have a lifesteal component, as do transfusion grenades, so it could be based off that. I point this out mainly bc Troy is a smart boy, it’s possible he built her something so they could pretend they were twin gods. Maybe his sword/mechanical arm will do something similar/give him his own set of ‘powers’? Or maybe those screws in his left arm could also do it, too.

idk, this is all me just speculating. I will not be surprised if she is an actual Siren, I just like being extra when it comes to theorycrafting. don’t have much to do for uhhh 90 more days, sooooo

i am also curious if her powers have something to do with the tablets with the crystals coming out of them considering her lifeforce suck makes statues with eridium-like crystals coming out of them

... maybe not. different shapes and all.

are they even the same ones as the ones on promethea?

hmmmmmmmmmmmm

i do think there’s something on that tablet(?) on eden-6 that we gotta uncover by breaking the purple crystals cause when moze does it she uses a special melee tool and breaking them doesn’t add anything to her inventory.

“let’s free you up”

but that’s getting wayyyy off topic. that’s all i got for tyreen today

byeeee

[nightwingwhatdidisay]

“it goes like this”

Here’s my contribution to RobStar Week Day 6: Children (which is more like a cameo hehe)

Summary: they’ve got superpowers, and you’re not talking about starbolts or ancient incantations 

(Or: a look into Nightwing’s train of thought)

ao3 version ~ ff.net version ~

A/N: I’ve been taking these prompts pretty loosely and I hope that’s alright with everyone. Also it’s definitely RobStar but note that this fic covers a lot of ground with Robin and the other Titans so if that’s not your thing then by all means I’ll see you on day 7 for some classic RxS fluff

1.

It goes like this.

The morning light ebbs and flows through her hair like waves of fire, and you wonder how you got on with life before she started sleeping in your room, because waking up to this—a glorious configuration of golden skin and red hair and bright green eyes tangled in the sheets—seems like the only correct way to start the day. Her hand snakes out of the blanket and she runs her thumb across your jaw. There are fifty emotions on her face, and because you’ve been with her for some time now, you know she’s about to tell you something sad, and intimate, and honest.

“I believe leaving Tamaran was the worst thing to happen to me.”

That’s a new one.

“Really?”

She nods. “Because it was home. And now I’m here and Earth is home. I can no longer be in either place without missing the other. I fear I am going to spend the rest of my life in a state of yearning, regardless of where I am.”

This is a dilemma because you can’t relate. There’s no “yearning” going on when you think of where you grew up. Gotham is more of a ghost you can’t shake off than it is anything else. But then Kory takes your fingers and brings it up to her lips, and you’re reminded that right now she’s not looking for someone with answers. She’s looking for you, here, sharing the same pillow and breathing the same air while she chips at raw, unorganized thoughts bit by bit. For her this is good enough, and she deserves more than good enough but it’s only morning so there’s time to make it up to her.

And that’s important because Kory’s kind of the most beautiful thing in your life right now and it has nothing to do with her face or her body and everything to do with the life force thrumming inside her, pure and ferocious, and her vulnerabilities and her trust and her kindness that have all miraculously stayed alive despite everything she’s been through. They’re the foundations of the safe house you’ve been building for yourself inside of her.

You’ll have to get out of bed eventually. You both do. You have a team to lead and she’s got to play her part in it. But for now, you give yourself a pass to be selfish, and you cup her face into your hands and you kiss her so deeply you don’t even know who is breathing for whom. And that’s how you let your day begin.

2.

Sometimes you can’t even stand to look at him.

But you’d rather Garfield not know that, because it’s not his fault. So you take the mug of coffee he’s offering you like it’s no big deal and you lean back against the counter, pretending the way he hums commercial tunes while reading the back of the cereal box doesn’t make your heart ache.

You’ve maneuvered the big brother thing with Jason and Tim in the same style Bruce maneuvered fatherhood with you: with an awkwardness beyond measure and heaps of crippling self-doubt and a whole lot of mistakes to seal the deal. So sometimes Garfield terrifies you. Because there’s a brotherhood going on and you rank on his list of role models, and you just don’t want to fuck it up. You’ve seen what it’s like to have a kid so lost and disturbed it got it himself killed. Or the way grief can come down on everyone like a grenade. You know guilt in all its shiny forms, and the insidious way it unravels you with thoughts of what you should have said and what you could have done to keep that boy alive.

Garfield is nothing like Jason. But you’re not really interested in taking any chances. Because behind a screen of lame jokes and false bravado is someone who’s had a childhood much tougher than he lets on. Gar’s got the concealment of pain thing down. And if his powers have taught him anything, it’s how to adapt, how to get from one form to another in order to survive. That’s resiliency, and Garfield’s got it in spades.

He’s growing into something spectacular, and just please, please don’t fuck it up, Dick. Because you’re tired of lost potential, and you know you won’t claw your way out of darkness if it happens a second time.

Gar’s reading the nutritional value of Fruity-O’s on the side of the box and you can’t stop thinking how decent he is. There’s a leader inside him, he doesn’t even realize it yet. You’ve been waiting for the right time to start a new type of discussion with Gar, one about change and the future of the team and your intentions of making him a bigger part of it. Maybe the right time is today. So you stand there, rehearsing it in your mind.

“Dude, you ever wonder how calorically dense a booger is?”

Maybe not today.

3.

Raven’s got hawkeye vision because there is no other reason for you two to be sitting this far away from the mark. The distance is the span of the whole food court and the little girl looks like a tiny blip in a sea of Jump City consumers.

The mall as the venue is your idea, because it’s best to not make a scene, but you’ve tagged along in case things go sour since you never want Raven to be dealing with shit alone. Maybe it’s because she’s been inside your head, or because she’s got the bases covered with father issues and toxic vices and you can both struggle together, but for whatever reason, Raven knows you better than anybody. Better than Bruce and Alfred and Babs and Donna. Even better than Kory.

Maybe it works both ways, because you know what she’s thinking right now.

“They start them young, don’t they?”

The mark is barely a teenager, with a gaunt face and empty eyes and she’s scrawny and pale in a way she shouldn’t be. And there’s a story somewhere but all you need to know is that the system thoroughly failed her, and when people are that desperate and alone and marginalized, they tend to seek salvation in darker places.

Like a Trigonic cult, and Raven’s committed to not having that happen.

Because it’s against the rules of Raven to believe there’s nothing you can do to help those who’ve spiraled into darkness. Raven believes everyone—everyone—is redeemable. And here’s where Gotham rears its ugly head and mucks it all up for you, because you don’t know if you agree. You think you’ve seen irretrievable people before. But Raven’s got a faith in humanity so fierce it can shake your own beliefs and that’s also why you’ve tagged along. Because you want a revelation.

Raven looks at you. “Do you think people notice when I’m around?”

“I notice when you’re not. Does that count?”

“What if I’m not enough to change her mind?”

“Let’s find out.”

You see it well up in her face, the self-doubt. And suddenly she’s rambling to you in a quiet voice about how maybe she‘s not the right person for the job. It should be you. It should be Starfire. It should be someone with an actual joy for life to sell and I can’t do it, Nightwing and I’m too unengaging and Why do I feel like something’s missing in my life without you guys and you guys don’t feel the same about me? and Everything’s swirling away and I’m swirling apart—

Raven’s getting a little hysterical, so you grab her hand.

“I think it’s about time you save that girl.”

She takes the first step forward. And you’re mentally throwing all the strength you have at her. Raven doesn’t realize how much you’ve made her well-being a priority in your life. That you had secretly vowed long ago to keep her around forever.

4.

The team is sitting on a gold mine with this guy and it’s like nobody notices but you.

The end of the day hits and Cy’s got the foresight to wrangle you all up into the T-mobile, and before you know it you’re at the pier, watching Kory explain to the children on line for the cotton candy vendor not to be startled if it disappears in their mouths. Garfield’s got Raven by the arm, dragging her towards the Tunnel of Love with a sadistic gleam in his eye, and you just take it all in, amused out of your mind to witness Cyborg dip into the booth of a very, very pretty fortune teller.

Cyborg’s ironically the most human out of all of you, because he doesn’t forget to relax and if he sees you neglecting yourself he’ll shove relaxation down your throat as well, because he’s a no-man-left-behind kind of guy. Cy’s way passed dealing with his pain and that’s what makes him a success story. Maybe one day you’ll get there too.  

Cyborg leaves the booth with a smug smile and the fortune teller’s number. He walks towards you, giving a subtle gesture of victory and you go in for the fist bump, grinning ear to ear. “Please don’t tell me you gave her the ‘I see your future and it’s me’ spiel.”

Cyborg looks at you like you’re not making any sense, and points to himself. “Look at me. You think I need a pick up line with shoulders like these?”

You can’t get enough of him. Of any of them. Because they’ve got superpowers, and you’re not talking about starbolts or ancient incantations. You’re talking about Starfire’s kindness and Garfield’s resiliency and Raven’s faith and Cy’s confidence and you know you’ve got to deliver too. You’ve got to make all this worth it for them. Because for some godforsaken reason the universe sent you a family you don’t deserve and you have no intention of giving it up anytime soon.

Starfire runs up and kisses you. She tastes like cotton candy, and you realize you finally have an answer for her. You want to tell her to stop seeing home as a place, and start seeing it as a group of people who have her heart. That way, no matter where everyone ends up in the future, every stretch of space between one loved one and another won’t seem so terrifying.

A few years ago you came to this city because you were running away from something. And look at you now, drawn in like a magnet.

You breath in rhythm with all of them, and it’s kind of everything.