#there were so many things this episode did that I didn't expect

[mewmewchann]

~ Ruler of My Heart ~

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 22 thoughts

i am actually the bravest human alive for surviving this episode

(lmao i joke. MOSTLY. but op lore: i suffer from a chronic illness that gives me terrible nausea and MAN this was NOT the episode you want to sit down and unwind with if you’re feeling ill. for the plague be upon them all. and yet! here we are. my love for these agents must be quite boundless.)

“diseaseee episode… okay so it is probably body horror time maybe idk” <- first thing in my notes, and yes. yes, it was body horror time.

(we open with a fellow in the rainforest catching bugs) and to me it’s giving “he was in the amazon with my mom when she was researching spiders just before she died” which was such a funny meme. we moved on from this too quickly. those words will always make me giggle.

that is a turkey vulture… do they have those in Costa Rica? yes they do! wow, bird facts <3

ohh nasty, we see a dead hog in the rainforest, being consumed by bugs… bug scientist takes some of them while it pulsates… and my nausea strikes!!!

AUGHHH the boil blew up on his face. this is eeeeevil!! i was diverting my attention AWAY from the screen at this point and really staring at my notes in the hope they could shield me from the nastiness

NOOOO now the bug scientist’s face is covered in the boils… the vultures got him and so did the bugs, and i am getting the impression this is gonna be a tough watch, but i’m in too far now!!!! (it had been like. 5 minutes lmao but i meant it!)

scene change: prison time.

(is this the outside of the prison they used to film the Please Please Please music video or do they all just look the same?)

a prisoner has been sent a package. it is…. some kind of meat??? can you send meat in the mail…? just wrapped up in newspaper? i find this hard to believe, but maybe things were different in the 90’s, or we can suspend disbelief for the sake of the alien show

the meat is pulsating and now the prisoner who received it has the same boils…… deeply unfortunate for all parties involved

and now boil disease is spreading in the prison!! two guards escaped on a cart carrying the infected man's dirty sheets. so they are pretty much gonna die. but will they spread the sickness to the outside world before they do so?

enter our agents!!

this dude who claims to be in charge is a real jerk. and the agents don’t even know why they got sent there beyond to help with a manhunt, which seems beneath them. but there are some people in hazmat suits, so it’s not adding up.

the convicts are hiding in a rest stop and stole a camper from a poor family :( way to ruin vacation.

scully can tell everyone is LYING and she hates lies and bursts into the hospital area, despite the doctor trying to keep her out… it’s a serve, but at what cost to her health???

here, we learn what is at stake: 14 men have been infected, and 10 have died so far. YIKES! this is not good news.

she always answers the phone with “mulder, it’s me” and idk why I find that so endearing. but maybe I’m just at the point where everything these nerds do wins me over 

NOOOO the dad from the camper was killed…  vacation ruined even more than previously thought 

back at the prison, a dude in a hazmat suit tried to kick scully out by saying that she is violating federal orders by being there, and she says “i’m a federal agent”…. a queen of dealing with nonsense. she needs to know if the escaped men are out and about spreading this!!

“you see what I let you see”, says a man drunk on the power of a lot of people dying around him. and i love that these men think they can handle whatever this disease is without any help whatsoever (/s) the arrogance of men has no limits. 

the convict is coming home… to his gf and baby… SPARE THE BABY from the bubbling disease!!!

one of the dudes who escaped is on the floor of the gas station bathroom, moaning and groaning and covered in boils, and the other convict smacks the poor cashier helping him on the head with a wrench... truly despicable behaviors. and he was probably doing all of this for minimum wage!!

scully in da incinerator room... what is she doing there! she has a mask and some gloves and some bodies to investigate. she cuts one of the bagged bodies open. 

NOOO the doctor tries to stop her and the juice gets in his eye… he runs away. rip doctor. your fate has been sealed.

(rolling up to the gas station w the marshals and a million dudes in sunglasses that look like horrible people to catch the escaped convicts)

mulder finds the poor cashier that got whacked and says “kid’s got a lot of hair, probably absorbed the blow” which is a crazy thing to say 

now he is trying to track the phone call the convict made to figure out where he went, but he’s using the same payphone as the sick man, and the germs... i’m scared!

mulder gives his badge number to the operator. It’s JTT-047101111. will this information be of any use at any time? no. but I still wrote it down <3

woah loud noise! a helicopter arrives to put the cashier in some sort of incubator. this cashier has really had a bad time. and no one is explaining anything!!!! so he doesn’t even know where they are taking him or why!! transparency has never been anyone in the government’s strong suit, i guess.

convict cam. he is reunited with his gf. they are smooching. and that is not good for her survival rate i would guess. after they make out a lil, he shows her the other mostly dead guy in his car. i assume he will be joining the family but not for long. i'd be pissed if my man brought someone home after his prison escape. this was supposed to be about US and not some dude i don't know named paul dying in our bed...

okay the package of the meat was sent from kansas… sus…. from a pharmaceutical company?? could it be a fake return address… (spoiler: no, it was not!)

OUGHHHH the camera cuts to dead flesh and boils and blood BLEAGGHH and scully extracts a BUG from it…. 

back to the convicts. the woman is trying to help the guy who is filled with pus, and she bends down to try and cool off his fever, and just as this happens the boil bursts!!! her face is splashed with nastiness and i moaned “nooooo” and hit pause so fast because I nearly gagged... but this was not a foolproof plan, because it paused on all the stuff getting on her face, so i saw it even more, which was SO NASTY EVIL EVIL NASTY GROSSSSSS JAIL. she’s trying to scrub it off. 

just as she tries to get it off, the marshals burst in and get her. so now they might get the boils… also someone scoops up the baby… put him in a better situation… but the other prisoner is gone!! where did his slippery ass sneak out to?!?

(we see an outside shot of the prison again and AGAIN I think this is the same one from the please please please mv. sabrina carpenter can you confirm or deny? i know you read this blog)

the doctor who was earlier splashed upon has revealed his boils to scully. but this is not all he reveals: he was LYING about the CDC being involved!!! it’s the pharmaceutical company that sent the package to the prison that did all this, and he works for them!! they finance discovering stuff in the rainforest to use in drugs… and they found the bug. and the bug has a parasite on it that makes the boils and the larvae are in the explosion. so explosion = infection.

NOOO she was there when his boil blew up so she might also be infected..... lord her medical history is complicated enough. let her escape the clutches of these damn bugs.

talk with skinner time!!!!! BUT... CIG MAN IS IN THE CORNER. mulder goes over to talk to him directly. is he trying to get them killed!!!!! because it looks like cigarette man put them on this case involving lethal infectious diseases because he wanted to get rid of them. oh, mulder is ANGRY about them lying to the public

meeting with skinner was NOT a success. he angrily fumbles with his seatbelt when scully calls to report the latest in plague news 

they disagree on what to do here: he says the public has to know about the situation, and she says that they don't because the panic will spread faster than the contagion. oooo, juicy moral conflict! but i must admit. pandemic questions interest me less having lived through one of my own.

despite his frustration that she is making a point about not being able to tell the world just yet, he asks "are you okay in there scully?”, and she says yes, tells him to catch the fugitive, and to "take care of yourself out there"... and her not knowing if she is gonna live or die, so she tells him to take care of himself...... has me very emo

now, she is locked into quarantine with the infected doctor, who is testing her for the disease, which involves trapping a bug to her arm and waiting for it to bite her. which is quite hellish. she looks truly disturbed by the event and frankly so was i.

mulder interrogating the woman whose bf is the escaped convict. trying to find him, but being distracted by her moral questions on who deserves to know the truth... not now, ask these heavy things later. success! convict boil man is on his way to the bus station.

cutscene to the convict trying to buy a bus ticket. and coughing all over the ticket woman. another minimum wage worker victimized by disease. wear ur masks people!

back at the lab, the bug has FINALLY bitten her, but the doctor from the company is going down. he says she has to tell the world if her test is negative because it WILL happen again. way to push your guilt onto someone else, mister pharmaceutical man!

cut to her extracting blood from bugs. how in the hell did they film that scene??? she takes a deep breath and looks at the blood to see if she’s gonna die or not. and she sighs but that isn’t an answer for us, the audience. (spoilers: it was negative...... thank god)

in the incinerator of the prison, they are destroying all the evidence!!! by tossing all the bodies into a fire!!! the pharmaceutical company is covering its tracks!!! they say it was unavoidable but she says “we'll leave that up to others to decide!!!” oh he pulls the “no one will believe you” card… but she’s sneaky, maybe she’ll think of something that can prove it all to the rest of the world

back to the marshals and mulder at the bus station. no pressure but the prisoner who is about to die HAS to make a statement or else everything will be entirely covered up by the pharmaceutical company that killed these people. again, no pressure!! 

mulder going on the bus with the infected convict.... nooo mulder, be careful, i whisper softly to the screen. and sensing his tricks, the sick man holds a boy with a gun to his head once he gets on there!!!

mulder's voice is all growly- you know how it gets when he’s serious. but the sick man is coughing all over the little boy. and foaming at the mouth. mulder convinces him to let the kid go, and tries to get that statement that will prove everything... but....

NOOOOOOOO!!!! the marshals shoot the guy before he can learn what was in the package!!!!!!

so, in all: the pharmaceutical company was using the prisoners as guinea pigs to get their drug on the market without FDA testing… truly sick and twisted!!!

mulder is reporting this to skinner, and he’s gonna tell the public!!! mulder says that covering the truth makes skinner just as guilty as the men who infected the prisoners (which i'm not sure i agree with but i love a man obsessed with the moral weight of his actions)!! but scully bursts in and says they can’t prove anything because the tracks were so thoroughly covered.

mulder is adding things up... that’s why they were given the assignment, so that if they tried to expose the whole thing, they would be discredited!!!

skinner says “you never had a chance, mulder; for every step you take, they’re three steps ahead” “where do you stand?” “i stand right on the line that you keep crossing” <- OHHHHH zinger.

but i'm conflicted... i thought skinner and i were tight after he intervened to save mulder a few episodes ago, but now I don’t know… skinner, my feelings towards you are complex and unnavigable 

“i’m saying this as a friend: watch your back. This is just the beginning” <- WHAT DO YOU KNOW SKINNER!!!!!

there are questions here- such as, to what point does skinner knowingly go along with the corruption in the government? if the government was involved with killing prisoners on behalf of a drug company, what other evil twisted things are they hiding? to what extent can skinner, and every other person in the FBI, be blamed for complicity? is it at all possible to make positive change in a corrupt system?

also, are these the same guys who are hiding the aliens, or do you think that 's a different evil government department?

what was cig man doing there and why does skinner keep letting him into his office like a stray cat that gets one free meal from a nice human? (but that stray cat is evil and was involved in kidnapping scully) should we send skinner to the cancel chambers or is he a real mfer deep down? also, where the hell is krycek? not that I give a fuck. he sucked. 

much to ponder, but i end there for now, because. bleurgh. flesh.

[pa-pa-plasma]

okay i just marathoned the entirety of ATLA live action & i might do an actual review of it explaining my thoughts more in depth, but the TLDR version basically boils down to this:

if you want to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender, just go watch the 2005 cartoon

[babieken]

I was expecting so much more from Again My Life considering lee jungi was its main character but it was such a let down...

[overseer-picard]

I know we beat the "seasons are only 10 episodes now and it sucks" dead horse on the daily but another thing we lost when we stopped making the 24 episode 1 hour drama was the freedom to be narratively risky.

Star Trek, The X Files, and Doctor Who are great examples of this since they had the sandbox of Sci-Fi to play with. There are so many amazing, mind bending, soul stretching episodes that were teetering on the edge of flop or flying and through bold writing they didn't just fly but catapulted into the stratosphere of iconic. These episodes changed expectations and genre boundaries of what Sci-Fi could be for years to come.

We don't get episodes like this anymore because these new shows cannot afford the risk of a flop. The weekly episodic story structure that was once the foundation of television has been abandoned by Hollywood. The beautiful thing about this "simplistic" structure is that it provides a narrative safety net. You can take a risk and afford the miss because you can have a clean slate next week. You can't do that with continual narrative structures where only one story is being told over ten episodes (note to add: both structures are valuable, but total abandonment of one in favor of the other is detrimental).

These production companies gleefully hold the metaphorical gun of cancellation to the writer's heads and this actively ensures that stories are as safe as possible. This is creatively devastating, and ironically, guarantees catastrophic failure of shows. Safety is a bland cage.

Of course, the production think-tanks can't possibly take responsibility for their suffocating creative control so they blame the audiences for *checks notes* being on their phones too much, not subscribing enough, paying too little for ads, being too vocal online, not being vocal enough, being too demanding, being too liberal, being too conservative, whatever it takes to say "these failures are not our fault, you're just bad audiences".

Now, there are the episodes that did flop, but they flopped so spectacularly that we have entire days celebrating them decades later. These episodes took massive risks and instead of trying to back away from that creative intensity, these writers-of-old stepped up to bat, acknowledged they probably didn't have the screen-time to truly flesh out these concepts but by God they were going to try, and then hit so hard they shattered the bat. Sure they lost the game, but wow, what a thing to witness.

When I invariably get asked what my least favorite episodes of Star Trek are, I can't even remember because a "bad" episode to me is one that's simply forgettable.

There is no greater crime in the realm of artistic creation than being aesthetically beige and mind numbingly forgettable and yet for the past 15 years 8 out of 10 productions seem to be repeat offenders of exactly this.

[jungwondazed]

18+ only. jungwon asks if you read smut before.

jungwon had been staring at you a little too much as you both watched the tv together, giving him a few frowns made him only shake his head with a soft smile, raising his eyebrows in innocence.

you ignored his behavior and continued on with the many episodes of the night. he was eyeing you, looking away every time you turned to him and it was beginning to frustrate you because it obviously wasn't a serious enough matter for him to have that certain sly look on his face. he was plotting something and you were growing irritated.

when the final episode ended you stood up to put away your bowl of popcorn and jungwon lightly tugs at your shirt, not saying a thing but motioning you to stay put.

you look all over his face trying to detect anything wrong but he looked way too pleasant if anything.

"i wanted to ask you something" he says, and your heart is immediately racing, a conversation never goes well when it starts this way.

"yeah?"

"how do i say this.." he puts his pointer finger to his chin all cliche like, cuter than you'd like to admit.

"you know before we started seeing each other, you were a fan right?" he continues and you almost laugh because bringing this up so casually was too random, he obviously knows you were a fan before this relationship happened.

""yes... where is this going? don't tell me you can't handle dating someone who was once a huge fan now" you dramatically roll your eyes and he giggles, bringing his hands to hold your arms lovingly.

"no no, not at all, you know i love it." his eyes looking very alluring in this light.

jungwon looks down at the floor, a grin creeping up on his face and you're three seconds away from hitting him with a couch pillow.

"did you ever happen to," he starts, chuckling a bit and looking up at you, turning away and laughing in his shoulder.

"happen to what? wonnie just say it already you've been acting strange all night, just say it" you mutter out while lightly rocking his body back in forth.

"you didn't happen to engage in any, adult content did you?" he asks, eyes directly on you and you can't tell what he's asking.

"what? engage in adult content? like did i watch porn before dating you?"

"no no no, not that, i meant like, when it comes to me. did you, did you you know.." he trails off. hand rubbing the back of his neck as he fights back a genuine laugh.

"i am beyond confused right now jungwon." you're about to get up again because it felt like he was just gonna tease you all night and the sleepiness was taking over.

he pulls you back on top of him this time, his face just inches away with his expression more serious.

"hey, why are you walking away from me?" he brings his thumb to caress your cheek while leaning in to kiss you, to which you pull back from.

"you're just gonna mess with me all night if i don't."

he feels bad, but at the same time he's enjoying your pout a bit too much. bringing his hands to firmly hold you by your lower back, he caresses you everywhere, making you gasp in the sudden transition to intimacy.

"wonnie, what-"

"i just wanted to know if you read any mature writing about me, i know that's a big thing you know" he's turned on, the smirk is less evident and his brows crease faintly.

your face heats up, turning away immediately at such a question because it was the last thing you expected. by adult content he meant smut?? and about him at that? you would never admit to this no matter how much he presses you into it, being a previous fan girl made you self conscious as is.

"hmm? what's your answer to that?" his head tilts, his eyes smiling.

"i don't, i don't know what you're talking about"

his actions still, a long pause before staring into your eyes. was he always this devious?

"ohhh," he's really smirking this time. "ahhh so you don't know that fans often read erotic media about their favorite members is that it? is that what you're saying? like you didn't have a clue this was a thing? based on your response it really seems like you don't know anything about this" and his lips are already tracing themselves over your neck and collar bones. he's turned on, to say the least, and you can't figure out why.

you let him have at you, not knowing what to say to that as he made his point very well. of course you knew what it was, if you hadn't read any you could've been honest and say you just didn't engage in it at all, but you did. and you're caught, and jungwon is gonna have a field day with this one.

he looks up at you through his sharp eyes, eyelids closing slowly as he licks right up your neck to your lower jaw, finally kissing you on your lips.

jungwon spends the whole night begging you to tell him all about the pieces you've read, what he does to the reader in them, the different kinks that people assume he has. you narrate all the ones you can think of, and he mirrors your words by doing exactly the things you read. you start off with mentioning a piece where he likes it really hard, to which he fucks you with great force. you talk about how you always thought he was one for loving head and he argues how he's a giver if anything, working his tongue in your pussy until you cum all over him. jungwon got off on the idea that you had these dirty thoughts before he even knew of your existence, and he promises that he can demonstrate all those fantasies you read in the past, as a reality.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wheels up [S. R]

word count: 4k

summary: Spencer has just been released from prison and things seem to get complicated when Mr. Scratch attacks again. You want to know what's going on with your boyfriend, but when you confront him, you don't expect him to yell at you like he does.

contents: spoilers for season 12-13, directly based on the episode of the same name, established relationship, hurt/comfort, spencer being mean for a moment, mentions of migraines and schizophrenia, apologies, crying and I think that's it.

To say that you were worried was an understatement, because to cut all the tension around the team you would no longer even need a knife but a sword.

You had just gotten over the bitter pill of the fact that your boyfriend had been unjustifiably imprisoned when now Scratch had done this: the ambush, Walker's death, Emily's kidnapping… he just couldn't seem to get enough of this sick game.

“We also never stopped to ask why Scratch was in Honduras in the first place,” Simmons murmured next to you.

García, he and you were trying to review as best as possible the existing research on Peter Lewis that you found in your deceased friend's office to see if you could discover any other details, even if it were the slightest thing that could reveal the whereabouts of your unit leader. 

“Reid'll figure this out. “He's really amazing at this kind of thing.”

Garcia had barely finished saying this when a roar made her jump in her place and look back. Spencer Reid had just furiously thrown a book against the glass windows. You exchanged a worried look with your friend and the three of you silently agreed to go to the meeting room to investigate what was happening.

When the doctor arrived, he began to rant about what he had managed to discover. He talked about hallucinogenic plants found in Honduras and how this was related to Scratch, but you honestly couldn't pay attention to anything he was saying. You could only focus on the purple spots around his eyes, his messy hair jumping every time he said something, the sweat that glistened on his forehead, the erratic and rushed tone of his words and how he constantly rubbed his face or neck. 

Spencer wasn't well. 

You had seen him like this when he had feared he was developing an outbreak of schizophrenia and you had hated every second you had accompanied him to get tested, every second of uncertainty, every time you knew his vision was blurring. And now this was a thousand times worse, because you didn't even know how to help him. Shit, you didn't even know if he wanted your help.

While he was in prison he had refused to see you many times and it had broken your heart every time. He claimed that he didn’t want other prisoners to see you talking to him because they would try to use you to threaten him or that he didn’t want you to see the state he was in because he feared that after seeing the bruises and wounds you would no longer love him.

You respected him, but at the same time you felt that he was building a barrier between you so that in case he couldn't get out of there you wouldn't be tied to a prisoner and could live your life normally. That was why when Emily managed to build a solid case to prove his innocence you felt like you were going to die of joy, and when you saw him leave the prison the first thing you did was run into his arms to make sure he was safe.

But Spencer wasn't, because you knew he had only left there so he could help look for his mother: Diana Reid. During the course of everything you had barely seen him, you two were too busy with your own affairs to have a moment as a couple, but even so when you solved everything you let him go with her; after all they deserved it and you were happy that he had a quiet moment.

But Peter Lewis seemed to have other plans.

“What?” Spencer asked, noticing the way Penelope was looking at him. She looked like she was about to cry behind her blue glasses and you felt sorry for her.

“You threw a book at a window. It was jarring”

“Took me 60 minutes to deduce what should have taken me 60 seconds,” he muttered, clearly sounding furious with himself, “and if Emily dies because I was too slow, I'll be throwing a lot more than books.”

“Spencer” you tried to stop him, but he had already started on his way to the exit.

You always wanted to believe that you were his weak point, he had told you that on more than one occasion. When the team couldn't reason with him, they sent you instead.

Reid will do anything you tell him, Morgan used to say, whether it's convincing him about something silly between friends or something more serious. 

And so it was, because every time he was upset all it took was for you to make flirtatious eyes at him and steal a kiss for him to forget about it.

One day you're going to be my downfall, did you know that? he used to laugh. You're going to ask me to bring the stars down from the sky and I'll have to figure out a way to do it because I don't know how to say you no.

However, this time he didn't seem to understand any reason. He was just walking towards the exit and you were stumbling after him to catch up with his quick pace.

“Spencer,” you insisted, reaching out to grab his arm in an attempt to stop him. You didn't expect him to stop abruptly to the point where you collided with his chest, in the middle of the desolate hallway you had arrived at.

“What?”

The sharp tone and angry look he gave you unnerved you slightly, but you managed to clear your throat in search of your voice.

“Honey, it's obvious that you're not fine. You need to rest"

"Rest?" he spat, incredulous. “Do you think I can think of resting when we have a situation like this?”

“That's not what I meant. I'm just saying that no one expects you to be here after what happened, you can at least take a break” 

The sigh he let out was enough for you to know that whatever was coming was surely not good.

“Huh yeah? And what is that break I'm going to take going to cost us? Emily’s life?”

“You know I'm as worried as you are.”

“I'm not worried, I'm sick. I'm sick of this damn case, I'm sick of one thing after another happening to us and I'm sick of failing." 

"I know but…"

“No,” he interrupted you, leaning back when you tried to lay a hand on him. “There's no but. Today I don't need you to tell me what I have to do” 

“I'm not telling you what to do, I'm asking you to take care of yourself. How much sleep have you even had? When was the last time you ate?"

Your tone of voice had come out more recriminating than you intended and if you were already tense, this exchange was not helping at all.

Hearing no response, you continued.

“If you're not going to rest, at least let me help you.”

You wanted him to have the confidence to tell you anything, to be able to explain why he was acting so strange or to at least take two minutes to admit that things weren't right. But Spencer had changed a lot in that prison, because if before it was difficult for him to talk about his feelings, now it seemed practically impossible. You were the only one he dared to do it with and you didn't even think you were that exception to the rule anymore.

If you had known what was to come you would have preferred to stay for the moment he took to take a deep breath.

“Do you know how you can help me? Stepping aside”

“Spencer”

“I'm sick of this too! I'm tired of everyone coming and offering me their faces of compassion and their words of encouragement as if they really understood me. They don't do it, nobody does it, not even you. This is... it is a huge and heavy accumulation that has accumulated for years and years and when I think that it can't be worse, life surprises me by saying that yes, it can be worse. So just shut up, let me do my job, let me catch Scratch and for the love of God stop treating me like I'm a child because on top of all the stress of the case I have to deal with that too and honestly it's killing me” 

Your boyfriend turned around without waiting for a response and a part of you was grateful that was the case, or else he would have seen the tears that had already gathered in your eyes.

You were shocked and felt your face burning with shame, with a hole in your stomach that wouldn't be easy to fill. You were no longer even worried about the man, nor sad, but you felt very different; it was as if Reid had infected you with his anger.

Still with wet cheeks you hurried to walk in the opposite direction, finding yourself at the end of the hallway to meet a very worried Penelope García. Without letting her tell you anything, you asked her to continue with the investigation and the entire time you swallowed your pain.

You knew that Peter Lewis' desperate face when he was hanging from that building and the way you and Luke left him to die would haunt you for a lifetime, but you didn't feel even the slightest bit sorry for it. Even a part of you wished that man had died a slower and perhaps even painful death. Whatever the case, he was gone and you could feel a second of peace at night.

Spencer was right, the most important thing now was to save Emily. Later there would be time to attend to marital discussions.

When you got home you were sweaty, tired, and had a headache that you knew a shower could probably solve, adding a glass of good wine just to be safe. However, clinging to that peace of mind that solving the case had provided you was only a mechanism to postpone confronting the problem that was still latent. You hadn't spoken to Spencer for the rest of the day since your fight in the hallway and although your heart ached you knew this was the prudent thing to do.

Fighting had never had a place in your relationship because both of you were too rational to be carried away by impulse. You had disagreements and arguments, but you had tried to resolve them like adults or you had let the matter rest until you were cool-headed enough to speak calmly. You suspected that right now you were doing the latter, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn't be the one who would look for your boyfriend to talk to.

You were hurt by the way he had reacted to your advice, but a part of you also understood that Spencer had been going through too much and that, in some ways, he had some right to want his own space. Or maybe both of you were partly to blame; you for demanding something that didn't belong to you and him for not having said things tactfully enough.

But you couldn't help but miss him. You had spent so many months away from him that you longed to be in his arms, shower him with kisses and hear the soft beat of his heart just to make sure he was real.

Still lost in your thoughts you searched the living room for your briefcase to grab your cell phone, hoping to find something to distract yourself, and upon unlocking it you discovered that you had several missed calls from Spencer. It wasn't like you were ignoring him on purpose, rather it had been an oversight on your part, but when you were about to dial his number a new call was announced on the screen. It was him.

"Hello?"

“There you are,” he murmured, sounding tremendously relieved “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I just left the phone in my briefcase and that's why I didn't hear your calls. I'm sorry"

There was silence for an awkward moment and then he spoke again.

“You went home early.”

"I was tired. I told Emily.”

“Yes, she… he told me, but… Do you think I can see you? I would like to talk to you about something and I don't think it is appropriate to do so on the phone.”

You evaluated your options, looking at everything around you. Spencer was welcome whenever he wanted in your house and you knew a mess wouldn't matter to him, but you were more worried about him noticing the emotional mess, not the physical one.

“Y/N?”

“Yes,” you responded when you heard your name, without thinking too much. “You can come”

Spencer responded with a monosyllable and then he hung up. You were about to get up from the couch to look for something more decent than colorful pajamas when a knock on the door startled you. When there was no response, the person knocked again and when you tiptoed until you reached the peephole, you met a familiar silhouette who was visibly nervous. Apparently the look of confusion on your face when you opened it was enough to express a silent question to Spencer.

“I was in the hallway,” he explained to you. “I didn't want to take long if you said yes.”

You knew you shouldn't give in so easily, but it was hard when Spencer said things like that and he came to your house looking completely disoriented, sad, and regretful.

"Can I come in?" he asked. Although your silences were not with that intention, the truth was that you were making him even more nervous.

"Yeah, you can”

You turned around only when you heard the click of the door closing and leaned against it, waiting for him to say something. You took a moment to observe him and noticed that his clothes were slightly disarrayed, while his hands played with the leather strap that was still across his chest. When he noticed that you were looking at his hands he interpreted it as a sign to get rid of the garment, and so he did.

“Wine?”

“Rossi gave it to me,” you responded, following his gaze to the bottle on the coffee table along with the crystal glass.

Spencer opened his mouth slightly in understanding and then there was silence again.

“I think it's obvious why I'm here, right?” he murmured in a low, cautious voice. You looked at him with sealed lips. “I want to apologize.”

“Yeah?”

"Yes. I know I shouldn't have talked to you like that in the office”

“No, you shouldn't have done it,” you responded sternly “And I accept if you don't want me around, but…”

“No,” he interrupted you, lunging forward to take your hands. You didn't refuse. “It's not that. I want you close, I don't want you to go away”

“I want you close too, Spencer. And I care about you. That's why I tell you things, not because I want to bother you."

“I know not. I was wrong, okay? I was wrong and I had no right to yell at you just because I was upset. And I wasn't upset with you, I was upset about the case and… it was just too much. This is all too much” by this point Spencer’s voice had already broken and your arms were already open for him.

It didn't take much for your boyfriend to start sobbing.

"I'm sorry"

“I know, Spencer.”

"I was an idiot"

“Yes, you certainly were,” you responded, speaking barely above a whisper. You couldn't stop feeling empathy for your boyfriend, but you couldn't ignore your own pain either. “You made me feel so hurt.”

“Forgive me, you know that was not my intention.”

“I just want to see you well. I want you to be safe and help you, but you won't let me do it. And it's okay if you don't want my help, but you can't deny that you need help. We need help. Do you think I wasn't stressed too? Do you think I could care less about finding Emily?”

“I know not. I know…” he sobbed.

“And I understand that we were both going through a hard time but you had no right to treat me like that.”

"You hate me?"

“Of course I don't hate you. I love you very much and I always will, but when something bad happens we don't yell at each other. And I'm not hating you for this, did you hate me that time in Georgia when I went into negotiating in that hostage situation without consulting anyone?

"No. I was very angry and worried about you, but I would never have hated you.”

"You see it? It's the same” you said softly.

You weren't going to torture him with this and you didn't want him to kneel and ask for forgiveness, the message you wanted to give him was already more than clear. And you knew that the simple act of accepting his mistake was something that showed you that he cared about you.

“It won't happen again, I promise.”

“Oh, it may happen again. We are both dumb sometimes and the older we get the grumpier we become” you tried to joke. Although you didn't hear him laugh, you knew that it had lightened the atmosphere. “But talking about it makes him feel better, right? Just like now”

He nodded at your question and then your hand went up to his head to stroke his hair. The contact seemed to melt him against you, as if with this you had also given free rein to his crying. You knew he probably wasn't going to tell you about the horrors he'd experienced in prison yet, but maybe this moment could be a start; you were being honest with each other and after all that was what was important.

Spencer calmed down after a long while and when you separated you made sure to get him some napkins so he could wipe his tears and blow his nose.

“You're seriously not upset at me?”

“No,” you assured him, shaking your head at the same time. You approached him and raised your hands to his cheeks to hold him gently. “It's okay, Spencer. I would be upset if you hadn't apologized."

“I wanted to do it sooner, but I knew that maybe you needed time to… you know, not want to strangle me”

“You're always so smart,” you complimented him and this time he did laugh.

The man's hands were experimentally placed on your waist and upon noticing your approving smile he pulled you a little closer to him until you collided against his chest. The puffiness in his eyes didn't stop him from giving you a sweet look.

“I haven't kissed you since I came back,” he observed absently and after thinking about it for a second you realized it was true.

You hadn't even kissed him. You had gone three months without seeing him and you still hadn't had time to kiss him.

You opened your mouth slightly, but before you could say anything he had already leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. With the help of your hand sliding to the back of his neck you deepened the contact and Spencer wasted no time, wrapping his thin arms around your torso.

Even if you didn't want to admit it, you had already forgotten how good it felt to kiss him and amid everything you thought that you wished you could capture that moment in a jar to turn to it when necessary. Because after everything that had happened that day you really needed that moment of peace with him.

His lips were slightly parted, but your gentle tongue took care of moistening them and when the air began to fail you just let him go for a second, kissing him again when you breathed enough. Your kisses were sweet and soft enough to dissipate the rest of the guilt that remained in your lover's body.

"Better?" you asked once you two were satisfied. It took him a moment to compose himself from the intoxication of your kiss to be able to answer you.

"Yes, I feel better"

“How is Diana, by the way?” you said quietly, leaning back a little to look him in the eyes.

“She is fine, I managed to admit her to a sanatorium before García called me. It will only be for tonight, tomorrow I will look for where she can stay permanently” he answered you, rubbing his tired face with a hand “I think it would be best for us to return to Las Vegas”

“You should go to her now” it hurt you to give him that advice, but you knew that he must have other priorities now. One of your hands kindly caressed his bicep, feeling how he had lost considerably in weight.

“You don't want me to stay here?”

“I don't want you to feel obligated. I know Diana needs you more than me."

“She'll be fine today,” he murmured. Apparently he wanted to be with you more than you thought. “I left my number and she'll be asleep right now. As much as he wants to deny it, I think… that she is better off with professionals”

“So you want to stay here?”

You had sounded more excited than you intended and just because of the sparkle in your eyes he felt the urge to steal another kiss from you.

"Of course I want to. I missed you so much, I just want to feel you close to me."

“I can stay only if you promise me two things.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to try to sleep,” you asked him, passing the tip of your index fingers under his eyes. “I don't like that look at all and I think you could use some rest. I have a comfortable bed waiting just for you.”

“I'd love that,” he smiled weakly. “What's the second thing?”

“Tomorrow you will let me cook you something delicious before we go to your mother.”

The thought of you spoiling him so much made him smile.

"Done deal"

You carefully guided him to your room and once there you kissed him again. Spencer felt like he was going to cry again when he noticed that you still had the change of clothes that he had left in your closet over three months ago and the soft fabric along with the familiar scent filled his chest with joy.

You two snuggled under the warmth of the sheets and you made sure to kiss your lover's face countless times while your hands touched every piece of skin you had within reach, trying to show him that he didn't have to worry about anything; you wanted him to know that you loved him and that he was somewhere safe.

"Are you okay?"

You spoke in the middle of the darkness, while Spencer had his full weight on top of yours. His nose rubbed slightly against your bare skin and he found it necessary to leave another kiss there.

“I am now.”

And even if it only lasted for a brief moment, Spencer knew that nothing compared to the peace and tranquility of being with you.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @instabull @rhiannonhippiegirl @r-3dlips @missabsey @olivia’s-25

[im-poe-dameron]

NO LIGHT

a/n: wake up babes a new sith dropped and he's ridiculously hot. <- i wrote that when the episode dropped. and it's taken me a bit to finish. really i got this done out of pure spite, because what the fuck do you mean we're not going to see him again. expect tons more for this man from me and feel free to scream in the inbox cause if there's one thing that will remain, i am down bad for a sith. and all i could say while writing was: i can make him worse. this is the prequel fic to darkness within.

summary: jedi were the light, the path to good in a galaxy draped in darkness. he never called himself a title you'd grown accustomed to. a life that you'd been thrust into as a child. when doubts arise and beliefs shift, you find yourself entrapped in what you were taught to fight against.

word count: 8k

pairing: qimir (darth teeth) x jedi!f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS THIS AIN'T FOR YOU, corruption arc, enemies to lovers, but let's be honest it's more hate fucking, violence, he shows mercy, an unhinged villain obsessed with his lover, biting sort of, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), bad ending if you view it that way.

"The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural."

There was no name for them spoken aloud in the temples. No title for them to wield with pride as the Jedi did theirs. An armor they strapped to their chests before they carried the weight of the word knight. History was not a lesson to be taught, nor overlooked. Yet The Great War still remained fleeting in classes of the past. As if they willed each generation to forget.

You could feel your mouth form around the letters. The quick biting word that solidified in your heart, breaking open your armor the longer you thought about it. It sounded familiar. Each letter a hiss, as poison dripped between your lips. And you wracked your brain trying to remember where you'd heard it before, why the title came with flashes of memories long forgotten and feelings locked away.

Sith.

The darkness that lingered beneath what light the Jedi spread. A plague waiting to be brought forth and wrought upon the galaxy. Yet in the cracks of that obsidian void, you caught sight of a power that still remained. One not even the Jedi could detect within their midst, and yet you somehow latched on to what you found. The glimpse of his abilities far greater than anything you could ever achieve.

Images of his smile as you fought him alongside the people who trained you; those who didn't come home. How he held his lightsaber with the assurance of a man who'd done this before. Who trained in the same halls you did—who followed a path of light before sinking down to the depths of nothingness. He nearly killed you, held your life in his hands, yet his eyes flashed the second you began to fight back.

To show what you'd been hiding beneath the wall they taught you to built. The blockade which kept each emotion, each fear, trapped in your own mind.

You lashed at him with a fervor that scared you. With an anger that nearly consumed you.

And he smiled.

Questions ran rampant in your mind, yet no matter how hard you searched. No matter how far back you looked in the Temple records, there were no answers. The Sith seemed to have vanished from sight and wiped from existence. As if they never existed in the first place. You thought that something might arise, a piece of the past someone forgot to bury, but each time you looked the quicker you realized that this was done on purpose.

The Jedi cleansed the galaxy of evil—yet in doing so created the path for them to return without notice.

Since returning, you found yourself unable to sleep. When the possibility finally arose and you gave into the pleas of your body, his face returned with a vengeance. The smile that refused to leave you. The intrigue that crossed his eyes as he finally found your weak spot—the one thing that broke you. He fought you to survive at first, but as it continued, you suddenly felt like he was testing you. Attempting to figure out what made you tick, what would eventually make you fall.

You ignored whoever lingered in the hallways of the temple, their greetings falling on deaf ears, as you rushed to the training rooms. Night was cresting on the horizon of Coruscant and where you expected to be alone, you were surprised to find people still awake.

Apparently the attack left some Knights on edge. Including you.

"Maker," you gasped, pressing a hand to your stomach—a rush of nausea rolling through your body like a wave.

Whoever he was—whatever he was—he stuck to your mind like a fungi. Growing and feeding off your thoughts; finding joy in the depths of your head. You longed to claw him out, rip him to pieces until that calm serenity of peace finally returned. Until you felt like yourself again.

The room was thankfully empty, save for a few moved seats here and there. You gathered what control you had left on your emotions, practically collapsing onto the floor, each breath a gasp for the familiar Coruscant air. From what you were taught, meditating would help to ease your mind. Or at least assist in making sense of what you encountered, what knowledge you managed to accrue.

"I am one with the Force," you muttered. The words slipped off your tongue with ease, the memory of being a youngling in this very temple returning with a flash. It remained an old saying Masters told their Padawans when they first begin training. A reminder that while you may be powerful, while you may wield it to your own rhythm, you were surrounded and made from it. "And the Force is with me."

Your breathing slowed, eyes falling shut, and you allowed the room to fall away. You sought what lingered in between the liminal space of your mind and the world around you. Teal flickered on the edge of your vision as the darkness began to take shape—morph into something familiar. Cold licked down your spine, causing the hair to stand on the back of your neck, and suddenly you weren't sitting in the Jedi Temple anymore.

Ancient symbols surrounded you, carving that were set into stones older than you. Sucking in a sharp breath, you scrambled to your feet, your hand reaching for your hip—for the lightsaber that wasn't there. Night was all you could see through the cracked open ceiling; the ruins of what you guessed to be an ancient temple. One before the time of the Jedi you knew on Coruscant.

"Tragic isn't it."

You whirled around, eyes wide as the darkness you believed to be empty, began to bleed away. A figure cloaked in black stepped forward. Only this time...he wore no helmet, no mask to hide his signature and the thoughts that surged through your mind. He gave you the freedom to find what he was, to see beyond the boundaries set by the Jedi.

"W-Who are you?" you asked, your voice echoing off the stone walls and reverberating loudly in your own mind.

He smiled, the very look shoving every emotion you fought to keep at bay to the forefront of your thoughts. "I think you already know the answer to that question."

You gulped in another breath. "Sith."

"So they haven't wiped away that memory entirely." He breathed a soft laugh to himself, taking a few steps forward. "I'm surprised by that."

"Surprised..." Your eyebrows pulled together, body going tense with each step he took. "Did they have that information before?"

His smile only grew, the haze in his brown eyes flashing a burnt yellow for the briefest of moments. "Once." His hand reached out, as if to grasp yours, but this was merely in your head. A projection of his energy and yours. Perhaps that's why you relaxed, why you didn't flinch when his Force signature began to twine with yours. Perhaps that's why you let your guard down. "When I was a Jedi."

"You were a Jedi?" you exclaimed, reeling back. "That's not-"

"Possible?"

The echo of his steps rang through the air, stifling the air from your lungs. He walked like a predator. Yet held the stance of someone who couldn't care less about what you wanted, what you might do to him. He gave you his back with ease and didn't blink twice when your hand twitched to the nonexistent weapon at your side. You began to wonder if he brought you here without it on purpose—if he knew that deep down...you wouldn't hesitate to kill him if given the chance.

"Don't you find it remarkable?" His question threw you off guard as you turned to keep up with his slow prowl.

"Where are we?"

He ignored you. "The Jedi spent so long fighting the Sith. They nearly lost. And yet...no trace of that history remains."

"There's no point to this-"

Stopping a few feet away, he assessed you with a tilt of his head, eyes scrutinizing your very being. "There's always a point. Because despite their grand powers and promises, they are doomed to repeat history."

"Lies," you spit, eyes burning a hole through him.

"The Jedi will fall," he began, coming closer until his face was mere inches from your own. You attempted to step back, to remove yourself from the warmth that bled off his body in waves. But you were stuck—forced to keep still as he finished. "It's in their nature to believe they won't. But they will. One day." His hand reached up, palm cupping your cheek and for a moment...you felt the gentle caress of his touch. "Do you really want to be a part of that?"

"Let me go."

He sighed, eyes falling to your lips without shame. "I can't do that."

"You brought me here. All to tell lies." You sucked in a shuddering breath. "You can let me go-"

"I didn't bring you here," he replied, his lips curling into another grin. "I don't know how...but you found me."

"Found you where?"

His faint touch vanished as he stepped back with a sigh dripping in disappointment. As if you'd confirmed his worst fears. "Ashas Ree."

The planet's name sounded familiar—somewhere on the outer rim. And for a mere moment, you accepted his words as truth. That he didn't call you to this place, but you in fact found yourself here. Yet all it did was open a door you couldn't close. It would give way to the chaos in your mind, to the feelings that begged to run rampant in your heart. That alone would tear you to pieces and you'd have no way to put yourself back.

He leaned in once more, lips a hairsbreadth from your own, and smiled gleefully when you gasped. Your eyes wide and body falling back. Only for him to catch you—his arm a vice around your waist as his hand went to your face, keeping you still.

His touch should have terrified you—sent trills of fear through your body—and yet...you found a piece of something softer underneath his mask of danger. Though he may have turned to the dark side, the part of him that remained a Jedi still existed in the depths of his heart.

With reluctance, you came to the understanding that he wouldn't cause you any harm.

That isn't what he wanted from you.

"I'll see you soon...Jedi."

With a gasp, you collapsed, your head slamming against the temple floor as your eyes flew open. Pain bled into your skull, vision black spotted and hazy, yet you still scrambled to your feet. Your robes caught on your legs, twisting around your body. The beat of your heart echoed loudly in your ears—his face, his voice, still prominent in your mind.

He was a scar on your heart, a reminder that no matter how much you fought against his will, you would never win.

So you ran.

The temple cleared out during the night as you sprinted through the halls, your breath quick and stunted with each slam of your boots against the sleek floor. You weren't sure how long you'd spent with him. How much time passed as you did your best to ignore his advances—to gauge what exactly had to be done. Given that you now knew where he was.

Ashas Ree. A planet taught, yet never visited.

It didn't occur to you to ask why. What was there that made the Jedi wish to ignore it's existence altogether. What had they left behind?

Slowing to a halt, you found yourself stuck between two paths. Each hallway dimly lit and bathed in shadows. You held a choice within your hands. One that could change the trajectory of the Jedi if you were able to succeed. You could forget this instance happened, continue on with being a Knight, and leave this man to someone else.

Or you could find him.

The possibility of putting an end to this problem tasted sweet on your tongue. Yet you couldn't deny the true reason for going.

Curiosity would one day be be the end of you. A saying your master told you repeatedly as you put him through every type of worry he could endure—your need to know more outweighing the logic of whether you should.

The strength he exhibited on Khofar nearly brought you to your knees, his power a force to be reckoned with. Yet there you stood, considering the option of taking him on by yourself. It would conclude with your death—you understood this. Somehow that still wasn't enough to stop you from taking the left path towards the hangar. That alone couldn't deter you from a path already carved by the Force.

A sleek muted gray ship was housed in the corner. You couldn't recall who it belonged to, nor did you find it in yourself to care. Whatever this vision procured—the emotions that began to bleed into your heart with a heady and restless need—there was no fighting against it. The steps taken would lead to an unknown future; a consequence that not even you could see through the Force.

What began would eventually end.

Yet how it would play out remained shrouded in darkness.

Flicking familiar switches and pressing buttons through muscle memory, you felt yourself begin to slide back to your mind. The hum of the ship jumping into hyperspace gave you a moment of silence to converge over your thoughts. To focus on your own Force signature that spread around you with ease.

The teal felt familiar enough to sink down into its depths with a sigh. You shut your eyes, hands falling to your lap, as you allowed yourself to step forward into the darkness. Until you felt it begin to creep up your body—chills spreading down your spine and curling around your stomach.

You expected to be faced with a wall of fear; horrors unlike those you'd seen before. Surprise filled your chest as an image began to take shape—a memory that didn't belong to you.

He sat on the floor of the Jedi Temple. His eyes closed, hands resting on his knees, and hair tied up into a bun that nearly fell free. The black robes he wore with pride were gone, traded for a familiar set of light beige Jedi robes, a perfect match for the ones you wore now.

"You're not focused."

The voice...you'd heard her before. The sharp tone of concise words teaching younglings to train until they reached a level of perfection you only dreamed of obtaining.

Soft brown robes flowed around him as she stalked in a circle. Yet no matter how far you pried, how much you attempted to clear the image, her face refused to form. As if he was merely letting you see a hint of his past. Of the man that once existed in the same place you did. Warmth pooled in your body at that thought; he wanted you to understand him, to see that perhaps you weren't as different as you believed.

"You must feel the Force. Not simply think about it."

He sighed, shifting his body—hair falling free around his face. "I am thinking Master."

"If that were true then I wouldn't be able to see in your mind. Try again."

You stepped closer, lowering yourself to sit across from him—your eyes focused on the furrow of his brows, the way his body tensed. Agitation spread along his form, growing by the second, until you saw it begin to take shape in his mind. Peace didn't come easy. Not when he felt the conflict that plagued his heart, the beliefs he once held true and firm now a distant memory.

Without realizing it, you leaned forward, and pressed your hands atop his. Hoping that in some way, he might feel the soft light of your energy—the warmth of a Jedi's presence willing to help him.

"What do you see?" she asked.

He let out a breath, expression softening. "A...Jedi."

"Good. Who?"

"I...don't know."

"Try harder."

Frustration began to cloud his thoughts, his hands clenching into fists on his legs, and just as you reached for him again, you felt it. The sharp tug of fear against your heart. As if he'd stabbed you with his blade. His eyes flew open, a ragged breath tearing from his throat. You backed away, hands falling to your lap as you awaited the memory to keep going—to see what came next.

Only for him to meet your gaze and see you.

Pain sliced through your head, invading your body as his eyes narrowed perceptively. And you cried out, hands clutching your face, nails scraping against your skin. Maybe if you dug hard enough you'd be able to get him out of your head. You would remove any part of him that weeded through your thoughts, past every wall you'd placed to protect what secrets you held. He picked at your wounds and for a moment you wondered if he held a knife in his hand.

"S-Stop," you forced out past gritted teeth and clenched fists.

"You're not supposed to be here."

Sucking in a sharp breath, you shut your eyes to the image of him, to the vision that must have projected from his own mind. He didn't want you to bear witness to his past. A version of him that once believed in the light, that once hoped he could help the galaxy.

"No," you muttered, shoving him from your mind. But to no avail did it work. He was insistent, angry at knowing you could breach him so easily.

"The power you hold. It will destroy you."

"You don't..." Your nails sliced through the skin of your palm, blood welling to the surface within seconds as you fought against his hold. "You don't know anything."

Though you couldn't see him...you felt his smile. The pleasure he gained simply from finding the weakest point in your mind and running with it. Your power, your strength. For so long you'd feared what you might become, what your abilities could manifest into. Yet they remained a mere figment of your worst nightmares, a reality that may never come to pass.

Meeting him changed that.

He knew it the second he saw you.

"You're scared you won't be able to control it. The darkness you don't show the others."

"Lies," you hissed, beating against the walls he created as he wreaked havoc within your own mind.

"Tell me...does your former Master know you're on your way to me?"

Your heart leapt to your throat, fear numbing every ability you once possessed to fight back. To keep him at bay. No matter how much you wanted to argue, to claim he was wrong, you could feel the truth ring in the back of your mind.

No one knew you were speaking to him. No one knew you'd left.

No one would know why you may never come back.

His laughter echoed through you, burning a hole in your chest large enough for the darkness to seep through.

"Thrilling isn't it? Playing against their rules."

Perhaps if you dug far enough, you could rip the tendrils of him from your mind. Pieces that threatened to ruin you. The darkness promised freedom, yet you could see the repercussions of your actions played out before you like a story already written. Accepting the bittersweet taste of something so tenuous would leave you broken by the end of it. You'd be a shell of the Jedi you grew to become.

A person unwilling to fight back.

"You want me weak." The ship rumbled as you began to claw your way out of his mind and back into yours; the show of your strength echoing through the Force. "You want me to say yes because you know that if I fight back...you won't win."

Whatever retort he had died on the tip of his tongue when your ship left hyperspace—ripping you back to the waking world. You fell back on your elbows with a gasp, eyes zeroing in on the planet directly in front of you. One that you'd seen before. Perhaps it was in a dream, a memory not of your own, but the landscape looked familiar.

Signs of life were sparse—scattered further from where he resided—and part of you felt grateful. If this concluded in a battle you didn't want to be the cause of an innocent's death. The Jedi could never know you came here. The consequences alone would lead you to be cast out of the Order with nowhere else to go.

The ground shook as you landed; the hiss of the door echoed out into the empty clearing. You expected to see wildlife within the thicket of trees that surrounded you. All that showed itself was the glow of the moon above. Illuminating the path carved into the grass by people that came before. You could see the structure ahead—it's grand entrance towered over you, becoming one with the stars that hung above.

Jedi once walked these grounds. Their energy practically hummed in your veins the closer you came to stepping foot on the stone floors. Carvings of old symbols still remained—placed there by a Republic that no longer existed.

An era of Jedi you'd only heard stories of.

The history of the Olde Republic wasn't unknown to the Jedi that existed today. You understood their practices, the ways they viewed the Force. Part of them were lost to the war when they began to form the Order that still remained.

This place should be taught, visited, to keep the remaining legacy of what came before alive. This was the history you wanted to know—a past you could almost picture in your mind.

Stepping into the temple, you felt the energy before you saw it. A constricting echo of nothing that slammed against your chest with a brutality you'd witnessed once before. Gasping, you nearly fell to your knees as the obsidian nature of his Force signature began to seep into the ground. Fighting against it felt futile as it clambered over your body—sinking into your skin. Into the very fiber of your being.

"It's quite beautiful." His voice resonated in the small circular temple.

You sucked in a sharp breath, hands slamming to the cold stone floor—your knees collapsing beneath you. "What the fuck is this place?"

Controlled steps echoed behind you, his black robes brushing the ground as he stopped mere feet away. "The past your Jedi have chosen to hide."

"This is-" Your chest tightened, air sucked from your lungs at the feeling of his power laying above you—crushing you to the ground. "No Jedi temple."

He crouched, head tilted and eyes bleeding with a curiosity he held in the forest. "You continue to defend them, even when you know they haven't told you everything."

Attempting to reach for your lightsaber felt as if you were traveling through sand. It swallowed you whole. Ate at your insides and begged for more. You couldn't see past his power, past the darkness that formed over your body. He could have killed you like this; helpless and weak to his own weapon.

Why he never did is what filled your mind; the same mind screaming for a reprieve from what lay beneath the stone. What called out to you in screeching tones.

"Long before you and I walked this galaxy, this temple was created to hide the powers of what they considered dark and unnatural." He left you to lay on the floor, your back against a symbol you recognized. "They built this above a Sith temple to wipe their existence from history."

"The Sith followed the darkside of the Force," you spit between gritted teeth and tensed muscles. Your body was on fire and yet no one had lit the flame. "They wanted to destroy the galaxy."

Though you couldn't see it, you knew his lips curved into a grin. "Why do you have so much faith in an Order that would do the same to you if they knew where you were?"

Anger fueled your actions, gave you the strength to fight against whatever bonds he created against your body. With a piercing scream, your lightsaber hit the palm of your hand, igniting as you scrambled to your feet. He stood with his back to you—entirely aware yet uncaring of how you struggled against his hold. How the darkness began to seep its way to your heart.

You'd never felt this before.

The anger.

The hatred.

The Jedi taught you to quell that part of yourself before it had a chance to rise up. For so long you allowed their teachings to define you. To put a barrier between peace and bitter anguish. And you held that wall up with pride—with the knowledge that you could center yourself at a moments notice.

Yet he managed to tear it all down within one day.

"Good," he replied, his voice a soft rasp that penetrated the wave of emotions which sought to consume you. "Feel it. The anger."

"I am a Knight of the Jedi Order-" Raising your blade, you felt the hum of it sear against the side of your face. "And I am here to enact my duty."

The familiar echo of his blade coming to life—red illuminating the walls before him—sent a thrill of fear down your spine. One he could no doubt feel through the Force. You weren't scared to die. This had been ingrained in your mind since the day the Jedi found you. No, you felt at ease knowing this fight could only end one way.

You were scared of what might become of you if you slipped beneath the might of his powers.

"You have the strength of the old ways." He turned, brown eyes gleaming crimson as he advanced. "But your duty will be your end."

You felt the wall shatter within your mind—pieces crashing to the ground—as you leapt at him. Blades crashed together, lighting up the night with sparks of teal and red. And you felt how much he held back in the forest. He didn't want to kill you then; the way you called to his intrigue kept him from slicing his lightsaber down your spine.

Tonight you could see the difference. The strength he held back within his body.

A swipe of his blade nearly knocked yours from your hand, but the foot you landed to his leg kept you upright. He barely stumbled, regaining his stance with an agility you'd only seen in the Jedi Temples. You lunged again, aiming for his shoulder only to be knocked out of the way. He shoved you back with the Force—grinning at the sight of you enraged.

"You were a Jedi." A crack echoed in the night air as you landed a hit to his saber. "And you betrayed them."

"Betrayal." He spun, circling you as if you were marked prey. "I was cast aside as you will be. I did not betray the Jedi. I chose differently and they didn't accept that."

"You chose the path to darkness." Something sparked down your spine—foreign in its nature. Yet no matter how much you tried to pinpoint its origin, you came up blank.

"Desire," he replied, lips twitching when your eyes went wide. "The emotion you're fighting."

"Stay out of my head."

He took a step towards you—the hum of his lightsaber electrifying the air. "You're confused why you're feeling that way. You shouldn't be."

"Stop-"

"I can answer your questions." The palm of his hand reached for you—offering his touch. Promising peace in spite of the anger you felt. "If you'd like."

Fear seized in your chest and you stumbled back; your saber raised as your last line of defense. "Desire is the path to the darkside."

"And yet you feel it." The closer he stood, the more you felt his pull. A whispered promise tinged with the lust of more; the want for knowledge overshadowed by the truth of his beliefs. "You should feel all they make you push down. I can see that's what you want. Let me show you how."

Temptation ate away at your heart, claiming you in ways you'd never felt before. Yet the dread of what you'd been taught began to strike. Rearing in your mind with a vengeance that overtook what he offered. You flinched, eyes narrowed and hands gripped tightly onto your lightsaber as he took another step.

"No!" Your hand flew out, a push of strength bursting free. He slid back, his hand slamming to the ground to keep himself from falling.

That's when you saw it. His patience snapped, anger breaching the otherwise calm exterior he attempted to give you. This was the Sith that lay beneath his seduction. The man you caught glimpses of in your mind. He surged forward, saber striking down against yours hard enough to rattle your bones. Each hit felt as if you were battling something stronger—older.

You could feel the weariness in your body as you blocked and parried as often as you could. Spinning on your heel, you fell to one knee as he struck down a blow that resonated against the stone. Cracking it along the grooves of the center.

There was no mercy in how he battled. No offering of penance. He was your executioner come to life—the promise of death quick to fall from his tongue as he placed you in a corner.

He dragged you forward with a pull of the Force, crimson clashing with teal as you blocked his strike. And pride swelled in your chest at the sight of the frustration that crossed his face. This was not a fight as quick to the death as Khofar was. You would battle until your final breath and he seemed to realize that the longer you went.

"You die here today," you spit, struggling against his weight.

Pain sliced through your side, burning its way through your body as his lips pulled at the corners. Eyes alight in a way you'd never seen. He was amused by your fight—your willingness to die for the Jedi's beliefs. Yet you did the one thing everyone fell for on Khofar.

You underestimated him.

Yanking the small red blade from your side, he watched your face fall. Fear lacing your heart with a poison that held no antidote. This would be where you would have your last moment. The place he'd leave you to rot. But unlike what came before, he caught you in his hold, lowering you gently to the ground—his hand reaching to cup your face.

"You're afraid," he murmured, thumb tracing the top of your cheek. "You don't want to die."

Whether he could see it painted across your face or find it in your thoughts, the truth remained the same. You didn't want your story to end here. You couldn't fathom a death so small compared to what you'd been raised to believe. Jedi's were warriors. They were the protectors of the light; the keeper of peace.

Yet there you were, withering in the darkness and begging for hope.

"Let me in." His hand slid down to your gaping wound—pressing it gently even as you cried out in pain. "I can help you."

"You'll kill me." Even when you spoke, you understood the gravity of your situation.

He offered you salvation—safety within his hands—and yet you were willing to die. Teachings of your past suddenly felt minuscule as you stared death in the face. This would not be peaceful; you could feel the ravages of your injury begin to seep through your body. And he watched while you grappled with a choice that may very well set the path of your future.

Let me see your darkness. Let me help you control it.

His voice soothed the calamity in your veins. His touch a caress against your open robes—his skin hot against yours.

The look on his face—the clarity in his gaze—may be why you finally relented. Why you nodded slowly, fear traveling through every inch of your already broken body. He watched you with a desire that you'd only read about in stories. A feeling you'd pushed away at every waking moment. One that haunted you like the ghosts of this temple.

"Please," you breathed, hand clutching his robes.

Shifting you higher, he bent his head—his palm covering your wound—and pressed his lips to yours. Electricity streaked down your spine the moment you felt his kiss. His mouth was firm, yet soft in their nature when he gripped you closer. You gasped into it, hand cupping his face as he breached your mind slowly—gently enough to make you look past the act.

Until you felt it.

The warmth that bloomed beneath your skin when your body began to stitch itself together. He pushed the Force of his life through your veins—seeping it slowly into your heart. His thoughts melded with yours, memories of a past you never lived filtered through your mind. But he remained firm and solid in the way he kissed you. His tongue slipping past your parted lips to taste you, to take what he never got to on Khofar.

"I can give you more," he mumbled against your cheek, lips sliding along the curve of your jaw. "All that you want."

You would later blame his life Force, or the thoughts you were privy to. But the word yes slipped off your tongue with ease. A quickness that nearly left you startled.

This was forbidden. Every moment spent here would damn you to an eternity of punishment. Yet his touch felt delicious against your body as he pulled up your robes—spreading them open on the floor of the temple. You should have pushed him away. Dragged your lightsaber towards you and sunk it into his chest. And part of you wanted to.

Part of you ached to kill him.

Though no matter how hard you tried...you couldn't discern whether that stemmed from the throbbing heat between your legs. Or the violent echo in your heart.

His eyes caught your bleary gaze—pupils blown out and dark as he regarded you with a searing look you felt to your bones. "How do you want this?"

"I..." A burning heat spilled beneath the skin of your cheeks, spreading down to your chest. "I don't know," you whispered.

He smiled and you couldn't help but notice how he bared his teeth. Hunger etched on every line of his face. He liked that you were lost; that this was going to be the first and only time someone would touch you this way.

He suddenly felt the urge to claim you, call you his in every way that could exist within this galaxy.

Chalking it up to the ache in his body, he waited for your head to clear. "I can show you. Teach you."

A nod of your head set him off, he pulled at your pants until they pooled with the remainder of your robes. You lay bare beneath the moon—hands reaching to touch him—and felt that nothing this pleasurable should be wrong.

How could the Jedi claim a feeling like this as dark? How could having your needs be met be so horrendous to their beliefs?

With a gasp, you rose up on your elbows to watch him hoist your legs over the wide breadth of his shoulders. His fingers dug into the meat of your thighs—eyes fixed on the way you practically dripped onto the stone floor. You were given a second to breath before the oxygen was pulled from your lungs and his mouth sealed over your cunt.

"Maker!" Your body fell to the ground in a heap—head dazed as he laved his tongue between your slick folds with a need never shown before.

He groaned at your taste, the tang of you spread along his taste buds, and felt his body throb at the sight of you. So open, so willing to let him devour you whichever way he wanted.

The burning need from earlier began to build in your body, tightening along each muscle and pulling at your stomach. Your hand dug into his hair, fingers curling against his scalp as he sucked at your clit. And you had no choice but to moan—to let your sounds echo in the air and fall back down. If someone were to pass by they'd see you—hear you.

They'd bear witness to how you sank deeper into the darkness with a dazed smile on your lips.

A finger pushed at your entrance, curling into you slowly in search of something hidden within. You were wet—dripping down his hand—and he merely smiled into you. His tongue lapped against you as he sunk into you down to the knuckle. Dragging along your walls until your legs jolted—a cry ripping from your chest at the feeling of him brushing something devastating.

"There." Your head fell back, hips canting up into his face. "Yes. Fuck right there."

The wet echo of his fingers pounding into you drove you mad. He dragged you the brink with a merciless hand and you followed him with a gasped cry of bliss. Something broke within you—spreading through your body rapidly—as your legs shook and toes curled.

He groaned drunkenly into your cunt, eyes half lidded and cheeks stained the color of his lightsaber. You cried out when he sucked at your clit—curling his fingers mercilessly as lust clouded his vision. The unknown feeling you'd fought for so long began to eat at your body. Building along your spine, spreading through your stomach. Until you held no choice but to relent to its power.

"W-What's happening?" you whined, fingers tugging at his hair.

You weren't sure if you wanted to rip him away or keep him close.

The response you got was a heady moan muffled into your slicked thighs. Slick poured out of you, drenching the floor below. Your hips began to shift of their own volition—grinding against his mouth as you struggled for breath. For a semblance of peace against the war of pleasure that ripped you apart.

He sucked hard and the tension in your body snapped.

"F-Fuck!" you sobbed, thighs shaking and body bending off the floor.

Heat blinded you as white flashed behind your shut eyelids—a vibration unlike any you'd felt before now surging up and out of you. The stone floor cracked to the center; your strength sending a wave through the Force strong enough to break anything nearby.

He curled his arms around your legs, clamping down to keep steady. Even as the power rushed through him—tempted to shove him off and across the room. His tongue was a continued to lap at your entrance, drinking down every drop of that you fed into his open and waiting mouth. A broken moan ripped from your chest—body weary and sore—and yet you let him keep going.

Even as he licked until pain spliced up your stomach. A sharp discomfort you relished in.

"Tell me," he panted, climbing his way up your body—his lips trailing a wet line of kisses up your sternum. "Did the Jedi ever tell you about that?"

You grinned, hazy and languid in your newfound bliss. "I want more."

He smiled. "I can give you more."

Whatever convictions existed before you came here died in the back of your mind when his hips settled between yours. The heavy outline of his now hard cock was a firm press against your dripping cunt. It made you whimper. Made you needy. He watched you with glee in his eyes as you reached beneath his robes to feel him—the press your skin against his.

"Do you want it?" he asked softly, thrusting forward and tearing a moan from your throat.

"Yes," you gasped. "Please. I want it."

Moving your hands to rest above your head, he shifted his robes the best he could—the fabric soft against the inside of your thighs. You watched in rapture as he pulled his cock free; the sight of the red and leaking tip only serving to make your mouth water. The need from before now burning quicker. Brighter.

"Stay still," he murmured against your lips, stealing a kiss when you nodded.

Entirely at his will.

You felt him slide through your slick, coating himself with a raspy moan, before he pressed at your entrance. The head of his throbbing cock breaching you slowly. Stretching you with the slight flicker of pain. Only for him to push forward with a gritted moan. His forehead falling to yours as you gasped for air—for anything that might keep you latched to the surface of the planet.

"So perfect," he managed to bite out, his hips finally atop yours.

Your mouth fell open at how full you felt. How he pressed against your walls and carved a place for himself inside your body. Whatever path you might have taken before tonight vanished before your very eyes. This was always meant to be your future.

He is what you were led to.

"Okay?" His eyes met your blurry gaze—tears dripping down into your hair. "Speak to me love."

A ragged breath echoed in the temple. "'M good."

His lips curled up. "I'm going to move now."

"Will it hurt?" you asked, hesitancy lingering in your voice.

The grin bloomed into a smile as he shifted his hips back, thrusting into you slowly and striking against your walls. Pushing the spot he found before. Only this time the brief tendrils of pleasure burned through you like a roaring flame.

"Oh-"

"You like that don't you?" You nodded frantically, hands still obediently above your head. "Such a pretty thing. So willing."

"Yes," you whined, legs curling around his hips with each thrust.

The reverence from before slowly faded each time he plunged into your cunt. His groans muffled into the skin of your shoulder. He fucked you with a passion that would linger. A feeling you'd search for in the middle of the night—begging for the release you once had. His teeth scraped against your skin, fingers digging sharply into your hips, and you jolted when he shifted the angle.

Pounding down into you and pulling free sounds you'd never made before.

"All mine to have," he breathed against your cheek, lips catching yours in a messy kiss of teeth and tongue. "They would dare to throw away someone to perfect."

"Maker I'm gonna-" Your head fell back, eyes screwed shut as the tension began to build again.

"Yes," he gasped, cupping your ass to help your stunted movements. "Cum for me. Give me everything."

The pleasure eviscerated you. Slammed into your body with a vengeance and ripped every doubt you had about him from the very root up. He moaned against your chest as you came with a scream. Your thighs clamping around his and body curling up in search of his heat. A hand latched onto your back, holding you close, as you drenched his cock until it smeared on the inside of your thighs.

You couldn't find your way out of this maze. The darkness shrouded you in a layer of warmth—seeping into your body with ease. Yet that isn't what horrified you. That isn't what made the hair stand up on the back of your neck as he chased his own release.

What scared you was that you liked it.

You longed for it.

He came with a hoarse shout, spurting into you and filling you with warmth that you felt spread throughout your body. It consumed you. Welcomed you with a heady kiss and the promise of more. And you drank it down like the finest glass of wine.

The lingering echo of your Force signature still flickered in the background. You refrained from reaching for it. Content to remain in this river of peace that sank you down to the bottom.

His lips found yours, tongue sliding hotly into your open mouth. You returned his kiss with a fervor you didn't know you held. A wanting that now knew what the full extent of desire felt like. A need that would crave more.

"I-I liked it," you whispered against his lips. His cum slowly dripped out and around his softening cock. You yearned for him to show you again. "All of it."

"Good," he murmured. "There's so much more to show you."

"When?"

"Soon," he said, gathering you in his arms with a kiss to your forehead. "I promise my love. You'll know all of it."

You awoke to the echo of birdsong. The bright ray of sunlight blared down through the ceiling, turning the once cold stone beneath your skin hot. It burned you as you shifted, arm searching for the warmth of another that lay beside you.

Sometime in the night he began to tell you the history of what he knew. The people that once walked these temple floors. The Sith whose memory still echoed beyond time and space. This was their legacy. A path that you would soon take as your own. Yet the doubt of what it would cost still lingered at the edges of your mind; the reality you would soon have to face.

He would be hunted.

Sought out by the Jedi who would want revenge for what happened on Khofar. By joining him, you would be setting yourself up for a fate worse than death.

When your touch came up empty, your eyes fluttered open. Expecting him to be mediating somewhere nearby, you sat up still naked from hours before. A sore ache bloomed between your thighs, spreading down your legs. Each bite he placed on your skin remained tender to the touch, and you smiled at the memory they would incite.

"Hello?" you called, hoping to draw him back. To hopefully entice him for more.

Silence was all you were met with as you stood on shaky legs. Gathering your robe, you draped it around yourself—your lightsaber already clutched in your hand. You searched for his presence in the Force; picked through the life on this planet in the hopes of finding the one you recognized.

Only to be left with an empty voice.

An expanse of nothing.

Pain sliced through your heart, shattering a piece you didn't know existed. You watched it fall to the floor—breaking you open without mercy. Without forgiveness. What hope you had that he might find you again diminished as you gathered the rest of your robes and headed back to your ship still in the clearing. The truth of what occurred, now a solid belief in your mind.

Last night you offered yourself up to the darkside of the Force and this was your consequence.

To be left alone, waiting for your lovers return that would never come.

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Sagau another episode of reader getting pissed of for someone insulting some of thier favourites while begin bored when someone insults the reader to the point of counting how many times someone used some type of insult

Lyney and lynette begin bad mouthed becose they are form house of hearts reader will just launch a lawsuit for badmouthing thier favorites

Furina begin insulted by some pepole whonate not form Fontaine well the reader will want to throw them and drown under water thoses pepoles

That random who interrupts childe when he was talking to traveler and reader in fontain.....well begin punching bag for fatui harnbringer is now a mercy compared to how much the reader who......PURCHESE THE STEAM ROLLER AND DRIVES OVER ON THIS MO-* sorry for tehicaly dificulty*

PART 3 IT IS BABY LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOO

Thank you so much for requesting, @zardas75 ! I would've been more dead otherwise lol :')

Click Me For Part 1! Click Me For Part 2!

When Someone Insults Lyney, Lynette, Furina, and Childe! (No Vice Versa Today, Sorry!)

(Warning: Slight Spoilers to 4.0 Archon Quest & Might be OOC!)

Lyney

He was utterly flabbergasted that you would go out of your way for Lynette and he. I mean sure—he felt absolutely blessed and grateful that you would personally be his attorney (along with the Traveler & Paimon), but he did not expect you to jump on people that were insulting him because...of where his origin lies with.

It wasn't surprising that the entirety of Fontaine came to hear about the court case that held trial to press charges for a murder he didn't commit. so Lyney can't say he wasn't expecting the rumors, but you? Yeah, you were an entirely different wildcard than to those he's usually familiar with.

Lemme tell you, he was not prepared for you to be all up in the harasser's merchandise. If this was a trial duel to defend one's honor—you were not the champion duelist that made the opponent surrender. You were the opponent about to end the champion duelist's entire career.

This harasser was good at trash talking and gossiping—they were quite a hard opponent to overcome and beat, and here's you running your mouth about them and quite literally ending their career in a matter of minutes.

As much as Lyney would find this amusing after 5 minutes of overcoming the shock, some of the things you were saying were....a little too horrifying he'll be honest. So, rather to save himself than the insulter, he smoothly interrupts your "conversation."

"Ah, Your Grace! Welcome Back to Fontaine! May I Have the Pleasure to show you our latest magic tricks? Lynette and I have been practicing for our upcoming show!"

With your *cough* favoritism *cough* good mood shining through the previous rage that befelled your face, you of course accept to see more magic tricks appear out of the Great Magician twins!

And that was how Lyney hopes to never get you in a bad mood ever in your stay in Fontaine. He doesn't want to see you smiting anyone for anyone.

Lynette

She's like Lyney, but more muted. She's honored that you would protect she and Lyney from this insulter, but if she was to give her opinion, it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. After all, with being well-known, there was bound to be both ups and downs eventually.

She'll admit, she was...pretty afraid after hearing many of the things you were spitting at the rapidly paling face of the insulter in front of you. After all, smiting people with the wrath of the power beyond all the gods was...terrifying and a true force to be reckoned with.

She's immediately helping Lyney to distract you from the situation while also giving well-hidden death glares at the insulter for making you mad. The last thing they needed was for you to deem Fontaine not a good nation.

"Tada~ I hope you liked that magic trick, Your Grace...If you would like, I can reserve a ticket for the best seat at our upcoming magic show for you to watch."

Lynette is both afraid and awe-struck of your abilities as the Creator. That doesn't mean she'll show it, of course.

Furina

In my personal opinion, I think Furina is both loved and hated by the people of Teyvat. While she is mostly loved by her nation, others (like Neuvillette) can't stand her or her enigmaticness.

You, as the Creator, understand both love and hate, but of course choose to love Furina regardless of her...dramatic and soap opera-levelled ideas. While you can respect other people's opinions...cursing and badly insulting them was just crossing the line for you. And you were not going to let it pass without planting your foot down first.

And, of course, Furina soaks up everything you said like a sponge to water. You, the Creator, beyond Celestia itself, were willing to defend her? If this were a live soap opera in the Opera Epiclese, Furina would say she was a 100% fan of you!

Alas, as much as she loves for you to go on, she is an idol within Fontaine. The last thing she needs is for her own people to think Fontaine might get smitten because of one insulter. After all, gossip changes the raw truth to make itself more interesting.

"Ah, Your Grace! I just so happens to realize that there will be a trial held in the Opera Epiclese. For, if you have the time to spare, wish to find new inspiration for your next creations, please—allow I, Lady Furina, to escort you there! Hehe, I can certainly garuantee that you will get the V.I.P. view up there with me!~"

And, since you have a soft spot for Furina, you happily accept. After all, you can get to know the Hydro Archon better than before, even if you don't like court sessions! It's a win-win for you. And at least that insulter will now think before striking again.

Next thing you know, gossip around Fontaine says that those who are granted visions are personally favored forevermore by the Creator, and that you should never cross with one else you face the wrath above the gods.

Childe

Boy oh boy...If you are an old Tartaglia/Childe Fan, this is for you. You were absolutely ecstatic that Childe was in Fontaine! I mean—he even came in the game's archon quest in a badass-ish way!

And OF COURSE you had to teach the guy annoying your boy a lesson. Like, hello??? You blind??? This is your boy here! What is this old man thinking?

So of course, you did. And you gave that man quite the scare. The Traveler and Paimon look at you taking this situation as both a physical and verbal showdown very calmly, since this wasn't exactly the first time you blew up at people.

Childe, however? Boy, he's taking notes. Your threats and insults were very interesting and unique—as expected of the Creator. And the fact you just summon a bamboo stick outta thin air and proceeded to give the man some back problems? The harbinger's wondering if he can borrow that idea as inspiration...

Nevertheless, he doesn't want to deal with court just yet, so he'll (unfortunately) step in and save this person's backside. Besides, he still owes mora to Northland Bank.

"Ahaha, Your Grace! Your prowress seems to only become stronger and even more gracious since we last met—as expected!" He grins at you. "How 'bout you leave him to me, though? He still owes the bank some mora."

And so you watched Childe beat up the man and yk the rest is history. Safe to say you were somewhat satisfied. One thing's for sure though—Childe 100% dedicated this battle to you. You did give him some inspiration to fight, after all!

AND WE ARE DONE! I hope you all enjoyed it :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: Gosh, this took longer than i expected...I'm sorry everybody! IRL stuff has been hitting me like Truck-kun and there wasn't that much of a good time to properly sit down and write. I swear I'm not dying just yet!

Also, to whoever who shall be merciful to my very ghostful soul—please send in some Freminet requests—I must write for my boy. 🐧

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[payidaresque]

MAJOR TROP S2 FINALE SPOILERS BELOW (i'm too excited not to share my thought)

While some of the theories we made didn't prove to be true (honestly, i never believed they would) I LOVED THE FINALE SO MUCH. Cause i got everything i expected from it and more!!

Got an epic fight that didn't last 10 minutes but almost HALF OF THE EPISODE (THANK GOD)

he really didn't want to harm her at first, JUST as i expected here, he was just being defensive at first. And the rest just happened in the heat of battle (which of course doesn't justify everything sauron did but hey, what did u expect? he's evil after all)

And while i do believe he used his Halbrand form to manipulate her (again, very much expected knowing who he is), i also believe that what Sauron said here is true — the way he paused before saying it and the way he looked at her tells me that he was actually being sincere. what he would've gained from saying it, manipulation wise? Sauron is not stupid, surely he understands that Galadriel would not fall for it (and she didn't) which kinda brings me to a simple conclusion that he said it because he wanted to say it

also, this was both sexy and twisted of him omg????? totally Sauron move, i love it!! I did NOT expect that

as for "proving his love for her", i actually think he did, in his own way?

because he could end her right there and just take the ring (rip adar and brimby btw, you will be missed 😔), but he didn't? even more so, i believe that if Galadriel didn't attack him first there, he wouldn't attack her back. As fucked up as Sauron is, Galadriel is still on his mind

And goddamn it he meant what he said. And again, she knows who he is, she knows his tricks, so he wouldn't gain anything by saying it, which again means, that it is indeed his desire: not just to rule, but to rule with her. he'd make the whole world worship her (which, again, is basically his way of saying he loves her)

and again, why didn't he just kill her and take her ring? what was the need of standing and looking at her like that? why try to presuade her, when he has no problems with taking what he wants by force? the answer is: because she is Galadriel. Because they are connected to each other and he feels it with every fibre of his immortal being. His expression is not even angry her, or creepy, like a few minutes ago, he's just... gazing at her.

even more so, here

he actually got scared when she fell, he even tried to reach for her hand to stop her for falling (and before u say anything — no, i don't think it was because of the ring — he could retrieve it any other time from anyone else as no one else for him is a match for him but Galadriel — it's her he got scared for. I'm convinced of it)

As for the mataphorical "fall of Galadriel" — well i hoped for it, but i never believed it would actually happened because of how Galadriel is (Also, Brimby's monologue from 2x07 with her kinda killed all my hopes for it so). However, i think s3 has a lot to explore, so i'm leaving a little bit of hope there)

i have many other thougts i can't process right now and i might share them later, but overall, i think the episode was GREAT! Charlie and Morfydd did wonders once again, watching them on screen is such a treat. I love them both so much!! I also might make a separate post about Charlie's and Charles' Edwards scenes were phenomenal, and I will miss Brimby dearly because of Charles' breathtaking acting

To conclude: I, personally, is fed well enough for it to last for the upcooming 2 years. Oh, and also: l'oreal paris — because you're worth it. Oh, and one more thing: he used Halbrand form because he knows that Galadriel feels for him too, and her first reaction proved it (an ass move by the way).

[romor]

I'm starting to think people don't understand that adaptations have to be different. Did netflix have the same amount of time as Book 1 to work with? Technically yes, but 20 episodes is for sure more than 8 so they didn't.

If you are constantly comparing it to the original and upset about the changes. Then for sure the netflix adaptation is not for you.

I've seen some bad adaptations over the years, for example my favorite book is Inkheart. Even the 2010 Avatar movie is a better adaptation than Inkheart's.

Conclusion it's a pretty good series, if you like the original, if you can watch it without constantly comparing it to the original you will enjoy it more.

Editing to add to this since so many have said something.

Inkheart is not a horrible movie, but it is a bad adaptation. Fantastic cast, with no loyalty to the source material.

There is a difference between adapting a story, and remaking it. This is literally being referred to as the netflix adaptation, so clearly it's not a remake. Because it is an adaptation, changes are expected. It would be stupid to expect a copy and paste story.

The changes make sense, because if you want book 2, and only have 8 episodes to work, you have to make a lot happen. The original show has clear start and end points for the events that occur (aka you know that start of the episode and the end). That's fine, when you have 20 episodes to work with, each 20 minutes. That doesn't work with 8 episodes each 1 hour (or about an hour). It doesn't translate to smooth storytelling. A lot of important things occur in book 1, but let's not forget that book 1 is also more episodic vs the rest of the series. In fact don't we often say "it gets better," about the book 1? What I am saying, a lot has to happen in the first season to set up not just season 2, but season 3. They did really good making sure those events happened.

I don't mind the mixing of plot because they didn't have much of a choice if they wanted a cohesive plot. I would also like to add I'm so glad the removed the northern air temple episode's setting. Never felt right with me.

I'm not saying don't compare them because it's impossible not to. I'm saying that if you are constantly going to be thinking of everything they changed, if you think the original series is so perfect. So unflawed, that how dare they even try. If you are going to be watching it already offended that they decided to even touch it. This adaptation is not for you.

If you were like me and wished that fire did in fact burn everytime it touched someone. If you are like me and thought the original series was too light-hearted for its plot. Then you will enjoy it. It's a fun adaptation, that keeps as loyal to its source material as it can be.

Yes I have my issues with it, but that doesn't mean it wasn't a fun watch.

[god-i-hope-so]

Every time I read an anti-Bucktommy take it's like they don't understand what they're watching. Like, no understanding of how fiction works at all and a criminal lack of media literacy. And also unable to follow a simple story.

A tv show like 911 will never be like their favorite friends to lovers fics where everything they want to see on-screen is made into words, every little thought, every gesture is described in a flowery way, every single line is doctored to fit the fandom's expectations, using very specific tropes. This is fanwork, this is our business, we love it, we cherish it but this is our stuff.

911 is a tv show. It'll use many types of tv writing techniques to get to the point while having to deal with budgetary constraints, marketing needs, political restrictions and more. Could they have done a better job with reintroducing Tommy? Absolutely. Does it work as it is? Of course, if we're actually looking at what and how they tell on-screen.

A (long) BuckTommy timeline.

🚁 7x03 - Tommy and Buck meet on the day of the rescue, even before we see Buck, Chim and Eddie in the chopper. They first meet off-screen. We don't know what happened then, we don't know how they looked at each other, if they smiled at each other, if they even talked directly to each other. But they met before we see them in the chopper.

We know by what happens later that Tommy makes a strong impression on Buck (who is already in the middle of a real life crisis). We can also assume that Tommy is attracted to Buck based on his looks (and probably also affinity, they do the same job, never underestimate the homoerotic power of male camaraderie), something we also understand later, so it works (but also, the way he looks at Buck at the end of this episode is a subtle hint.) Don't forget that writers know in advance things we don't, that's why we can go back and find the breadcrumbs we didn't notice before or couldn't make a connection with yet.

🔥 Buck wants to know more about Tommy and his work. This is where you, as the audience, should fill the gap based on what we saw before and what comes next. This is where you should be able to do that instead of wanting everything on-screen the same way you put everything in a fanfic. This gap you fill because you're supposed to understand how average tv storytelling works leads to the following point.

🚁 7x04 - Buck contacts Tommy, he gets to visit Harbor. At this point, we can clearly see Tommy is acting flirty in a very subtle and respectful way, because he doesn't really know what's the deal with Buck, but remember the way he looked at Buck in 7x03? Then there's Buck acting... weird. What's his real purpose here? And this was before he even knew Tommy and Eddie were BFF, so Buck was already attracted to Tommy whatever his connection with the 118 crew, even if the real reason was blurry even to Buck himself.

🔥 7x04 - Tommy is now someone they interact with regularly. Tommy is now slowly working his way (back) into the 118 group. He finds a good friend in Eddy (strangely I don't see anyone questioning that. How is that easier than having a simple, passive crush?), apparently spends a lot of time with him, and knows Christopher because he went to Eddie's house 3 times. Eddie definitely knows more about Tommy than Buck at this point.

🚁 7x04 - Buck is clearly troubled by Tommy. Then there's this whole jealousy circus going on, Buck is a mess, his insecurities are breaking the roof and he's more troubled than ever. Is he jealous of Eddy or Tommy? Or both? (it's both) He wants to be the center of the attention. If he feels he's losing this, people will discard him. So he does some stupid shit. And you can see his feelings are also all over the place. But there's more than just fighting for attention, and that's probably why he's slowly starting to be angry. Because what he feels is different and he can't put his finger on it.

The discussion with Maddie clearly shows how he's chewing on his own heart. He didn't want what he had to change and he acted like a kid with big feelings and little control of himself.

🔥 7x04 - Tommy, who's having a passive crush on Buck, takes the matter in hands and kisses him. Tommy having a crush is not less normal than Buck flirting with basically any cute girl showing interest in him. Being more mature, he meets Buck to set things straight, after having talked about it with Eddie. It's not out of nowhere. Eddie and Tommy are not stupid, and Eddie knows Buck. He saw something was wrong. Tommy, being the new addition to their dynamic, thought it was his fault (I think Eddie and Tommy really felt guilty about going to Vegas and leaving Buck just like that lmao That was so bad for Buck's confidence, I felt it in my bones). Excuses turn to clearing the air turn to let's go for it.

Tommy really took a gamble there. If Buck wasn't what he thought he was, it could have been so bad. So, so bad for Tommy and his job. Imagine Buck accusing Tommy of assault? But he took the risk of kissing him because he has more experience and knows how to read the signs. He's not 15, he has experience with men, and closeted men for sure.

And you know, this is a beautiful scene for Buck as a character. The way he realizes why he did all that, what it means about him, for him. I mean, he knew, in a way, but he didn't know. And Tommy was suddenly everywhere in his life, overwhelming while doing nothing. You have to understand that everything is happening in Buck's head and he needed just a little push to open his eyes.

Buck's queer path: unlocked.

🚁 7x05 - First date, first mess but also first lesson. At this point, you can't even doubt about Tommy's intentions anymore. Buck might still be in a blurry phase but Tommy is not sending mixed signals at all (not with that choice of shirt, let me tell you this. My man was set to hit that night). Buck panicked, Tommy even tried to keep him on tracks for the evening, but between meeting Eddie and what it made Buck say... I mean, Tommy could have had a stronger reaction. Why accept the date if you can't deal with it?

But Tommy knows why, he's been there. Buck liked the idea of the date, but once you're there, everything becomes real. So once again, a little push: Tommy is honest and prefers to part ways, but not without saying why. He's not even mad. At this point, Buck really needs to take another step. It's difficult to drag someone else into your own fog. He has all the rights to be troubled, to doubt, to be scared, but you don't drag someone else in this with you. Tommy protected himself from that, also protected Buck from doing something he'd regret, and he did it with guidance.

🔥 7x05 - Buck talks with Maddie about his date and comes out to her, but more importantly: Buck comes out to Eddie. Look. This is canon, and I know we can choose to ignore canon but both scenes are great. And it's still canon. Maddie is obviously accepting and happy for Buck, and we expected no less from her.

With Eddie, I honestly expected at least some discussion like are you sure? or something like that but I think that at this point, everyone at the 118 knows that there's more to Buck than meets the eye. I'd have loved this scene to be longer with more exchange between Eddie and Buck but it is what it is, and Eddie is supportive of his best friend (yes, sorry, their canon relationship is best friends and I love their friendship, even more now that Buck is out).

And yes, this is even more important to show not only a strong friendship between a supposedly cishet man and a bisexual man but also, and we'll see that later, Eddie still trusts Buck around Chris. Nothing changed. So many people associate queer people with predators, we need to see queer people, and especially queer men, being trusted around children, and being safe. This is the right representation.

I know bvddies are trying to find any reason to make this storyline choice look like shit, because they want their ship to sail (and I completely understand wanting that), but accusing the people who like Buck and Tommy together of being homophobes because they cherish the canon beautiful friendship between Buck and Eddie?? We're not talking about headcanons here, about reading between the lines, or being "coded" a certain way (sorry, for me Eddie is not gay-coded. He's a-spec for sure, and I'm going for being demi, but gay? I don't see it anymore at this point of the show). It's about the canon. You know, at this point, things are already moving into place, even if you don't like Buck and Tommy together. This is where canon is at, this is the story. It's not a personal attack against anyone in the fandom.

🚁 7x05 - Buck wants to apologize to Tommy for the failed date, and for his behavior. Oh, accountability, my beloved. We love to see Buck working on himself. This is the real start of whatever will happen from now on between Buck and Tommy. Buck knows he's ready to embrace this new part of himself and he feels like Tommy is the right person to do that with.

Tommy being Tommy, he makes sure Buck knows what all this means. Buck is not a teenager, Tommy treats him as an equal but he also knows how it feels to be in Buck's shoes.

🔥 7x06 - Tommy, a responsible adult, makes time for Buck (and Chim!) even when he clearly could, and maybe should, just decline. This part was used way too often against Tommy by BoBs. Tommy is a fire pilot on call the night of the bachelor party. A FIRE PILOT ON CALL. Do you think his main goal that night is to have fun? Or is it to be a responsible adult who could well be saving lives (while risking his) the same night? Do you know what it means to be on call? You're basically working without being at work, the second your job needs you, you have to be 100% ready. Again, he's a fire pilot (even if he's also sent on ground work that night). His first job would be to pilot a freaking helicopter and accomplish tasks that requires skills, precision and to not be half asleep. You don't play with that responsibility.

So Tommy showing up is indeed huge. He does it for Buck, and for Chim, but definitely for Buck in the first place. He could have stayed home to get some sleep while waiting. Instead of that, not only he doesn't sleep but he ends up fighting a fire for hours. And the first thing people used against him was that he didn't follow the dress code?! No, you guys need to grow up and live a bit more of real life.

And then we have The Kiss (please someone draw them as The Kiss by Klimt, every fandom needs its Kiss fanart). And once again, it's Tommy making time for Buck, and Chim, when he could be home, take a good shower and be in his cozy bed after working on a fire for more than what, 14 hours? This is a man who knows his priorities. And responsible men are sexy as hell, even when it means they can't have fun like everyone else.

Now, if after all this, and mind you, this is all canon, you still think Tommy is a fraud in this storyline, that his budding romance with Buck has no foundation or that he doesn't care about Buck? And don't even get me started on the "but he was a racist and a misogynist before". Yes, he was. And yes, he changed. Like I said: learn to know his character, but also trust Hen. The fact is that at this point of the story, Tommy is great for Buck. He's kind, he's safe, he's trying even when there's no expectations. Be happy for great representation.

Oh, and don't use your hate against the ship or Tommy to be a nasty little shit with the actors and writers. Decency is free.

[shivadh]

Portrait of a Royal

(Warning behind the cut for a full-length image of the new Jonathan Yeo portrait of Charles III, which is real startling if you aren't expecting it.)

"Having met Charles Windsor," Gregory said over breakfast that morning, "I can assure you, he really is exactly the kind of man who wouldn't notice an elaborate and expensive roasting."

They had a rule about reading smartphones at breakfast -- using a tablet was fine if they were talking business, and phones were permitted for scheduling or settling arguments about the lyrics to songs or movie trivia, but overall they tried to keep the devices face-down. On that particular morning absolutely nobody was following the rule, because Jes had walked into the dining room with Michaelis, propped their tablet against a juice carafe in the middle of the table, and said, "I want everyone's opinion on what the actual living fuck is going on here."

Gerald had almost choked on his coffee. Alanna, feeding Sera, had looked up at the tablet, showing a portrait of King Charles III of England done in raw-meat pinks and muddy browns, and missed Sera's face entirely with a spoonful of mashed banana. Joan's eyes went huge as Eddie went into peals of laughter, which the twins promptly imitated, slapping their hands on the trays of their high chairs.

Gregory had carefully set down his silverware and rested his elbows on the table, propping his nose on his clasped hands to try and maintain a poker face.

"It's satire, right?" Ger had asked, looking from Jes to Gregory to Alanna. "I actually liked art history at school, and that's a painting someone did in protest, isn't it?"

"This is the official royally commissioned portrait of Charles the third," Michaelis had said, helping himself to breakfast at the sideboard and settling in between Joan and Jes. "But yes, it is also satire."

"They paid for that?" Eddie asked, gesturing at the painting. "They paid for it. And voluntarily put it on display."

"So the press releases say," Jes said. "I'm taking soundings because we are absolutely dedicating at least one episode of The Echo to it. I might have to start an entirely new podcast about contemporary art just so I can do a deep dive."

"Satire," Gerald repeated, staring at the painting.

"Not explicitly according to the artist, but his description of it is…very dry," Michaelis said. Jes held up their phone and read from it.

"The vivid color of the glazes in the background echo the uniform’s bright red tunic, not only resonating with the royal heritage found in many historical portraits but also injecting a dynamic, contemporary jolt into the genre with its uniformly powerful hue…" they stopped to snicker.

"Oh that's good," Alanna said approvingly. "Calling raw-flesh red the royal heritage is a very nice touch."

"The butterfly approaching King Charles's shoulder in the portrait adds a layer of narrative depth, symbolizing both his known advocacy for environmental causes and his personal transformation."

"It's a lie," Joan said. The adults looked at her.

"What's a lie, hon?" Gregory asked.

"I mean -- " Joan frowned at the painting. "He says he's painting the king's portrait but he's actually painting his feelings about the king, right? And being paid to paint a portrait implies you're supposed to be on the subject's side. But he's definitely not. So it's kind of like a lie. Of a painting. That's cool," she added, thoughtfully. "He roasted the king and the king didn't even notice? That's so cool!"

"Having met Charles Windsor," Gregory said, "I can assure you, he really is exactly the kind of man who wouldn't notice an elaborate and expensive roasting."

"That's sort of what satire is," Gerald added. "It's saying one thing but meaning another in a way that's really obvious to almost everyone."

"Ooh," Joan replied, digesting this. "I've had European history," she continued. "Other royal families aren't like ours."

"Well, some," Michaelis said. "Most, perhaps. Because we elect our royalty, even if we do tend to…elect in families. If you're king one day, it'll be because Gregory trained you and the people think you'd be best at the job. If you were the kind of person he is," he added, nodding to the portrait, "You probably wouldn't get elected."

"I sure wouldn't want a portrait like that done of me if I did," Joan said.

"That reminds me, we really do need to have portraits done," Gregory said to Eddie.

"Well, I say hire this guy," Eddie replied, gesturing at the painting. "At least you know you'll get an honest opinion."

"Doubt he needs the work, given he managed to get paid to insult a king to his face," Jes said. "Maybe that's the angle -- he basically ran a con on the royal family."

"Is it a con if they pay you for something and you give it to them?" Gerald asked.

"To be clear, that was con-parenthesis-admiring-close-parenthesis," Jes replied.

"I should never have told them I have a Tumblr," Ger said to Alanna.

"Don't look at me, I warned you," she replied.

"His other work is very good," Gregory said, scrolling images on his own phone. "I wonder if we can afford him. Love to see what he'd do with you, Eddie."

"I don't mind. Whatever he does, can't be worse than the haters who didn't like my TV show," Eddie replied serenely.

"Am I going to meet the Windsors, ever?" Joan asked Gregory.

"Oh, sooner or later, probably."

"We used to have to go to the birthdays sometimes," Alanna said. "Gregory and Gerald and me. We used to immediately go find Mia and then spend the parties running around with her, causing mischief."

"That's Queen Amelia of Genovia," Michaelis told Joan.

"I should call her, she's going to love this," Gregory said absently.

"I owe her money, I think," Gerald added. "Don't play poker with Genovians," he told Serafina, who burbled.

Eddie, who had apparently already thought of someone to call, had his phone to his ear. "Hey, Gee," he said, to whoever answered. Gregory looked at him curiously. "Yeah, it's Ed. Oh, don't give me shit, I married for love. Have you seen the new Yeo painting? I know! Yeah, I thought you might. Can I get his number? Oh, great. And do you know what his rates are? Well, yeah, and I want to be top of the waiting list. Okay. Huh, that's…affordable."

The entire table was silent. Eddie grinned at them.

"Oh, would you? You are the best, my man. Yeah, absolutely. Hey, next time you're in Europe, book a few days here, huh? Okay. Okay -- yeah, here it comes -- ciao, darling!" he said, and hung up.

"Who do you know who can quote you Jonathan Yeo's fees?" Jes asked.

"Gordon Ramsay," Eddie said casually. "He had a portrait done. I don't know what the royal budget is but his going rate, at least pre-Windsor, is not going to dip my bank account uncontrollably."

"You married for love?" Gregory prompted.

"Oh yeah, he likes to make fun of me for marrying into royalty, he calls me King Golddigger. I think you'll like him, I'll introduce you."

"What if you have Mr. Yeo do a portrait and it ends up like that, though?" Joan asked, gesturing at the painting. Jes picked up the tablet and blanked it, setting it aside.

"Then I will have deserved it, don't you think?" Gregory asked. "We should never try to pretend to a face that's better than the one we actually have. One reason art is so important is that it reminds us of that. That's why we spend so much government money on the arts. Now, finish your eggs, we are definitely going to have to have some conversations about that painting with several of the MPs, it's going to be a rowdy morning."

I think this is more or less extracanonical, but I couldn't get out of my head the idea of the Shivadh royals reacting to Yeo's portrait of Charles III. I don't think he's actually done one of Gordon Ramsay, but I think Ramsay's the kind of guy who would enjoy his work, for sure. Yeo's statement about the portrait is here; it's well worth clicking around his site, his other work is equally fantastic. I can only imagine what he'd do with a portrait of Gregory or Eddie (or Michaelis).

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

The more I think about season 2, the more grateful I am.

In a lot of ways, OFMD's writers, cast, and crew were given an almost impossible task. S1 was brilliant and took everyone by surprise by how successful it became. I am still shocked every time I rewatch by how smart and efficient the writing is, how intelligent the social commentary. S1 is a masterclass in good television.

And for s2, expectations were incredibly high. OFMD found massive word-of-mouth success in a way I've never seen with any other show, and they suddenly had a big, incredibly passionate audience - the renewal was because of massive fan support, and that must have translated to an incredible amount of pressure in the writer's room. Plus, as if that wasn't enough on its own, they're having to deal with budget cuts and Max slashing them down to only 8 episodes to tell a 10-episode story. This is an incredibly daunting task.

And yeah, I've been critical. OFMD is my favorite show, no contest, and it's easy to be critical of the things we love. We can all see that the pacing was off this season, especially in those last two episodes. Some arcs felt rushed; some side characters didn't get enough screen time to set up what they're doing this season. Jim and Olu especially suffer for that. It's inexcusable that this show's budget was slashed the way it was and I'm sad for what we could have had.

But, on the whole? Holy shit, this season was incredibly successful! Despite an incredible amount of fan pressure, the writers told the story they wanted to tell. They never lost sight of Ed and Stede's story, and were smart about allocating screen time so our leads' arcs never suffered too much for it. There's so much creative problem solving - when they realized they'd need to be smart about which side characters to keep on screen, they turned Buttons into a bird in a way that underscored season themes of transformation and change. 10/10, no notes. They even remembered their audience and left us on a satisfying note for all our characters - we get to end with Ed and Stede, happy and together, starting their new life.

They had an impossible task and they did a fucking commendable job. Character beats and humor are balanced amazingly well. Ed and Stede feel so much more fleshed out this season. Just like in s1, OFMD will never be a show where you can catch everything with one watch - there's so many little jokes, hidden gags, small details to discover with every rewatch. And every single actor is giving it their all in every scene! You can tell how much this show was a labor of love for everyone involved.

I'm proper fucking impressed. Here's hoping they get a renewal and a better budget for season 3!

[copperbadge]

In the ongoing discussion of aphantasia (see "an aphantasia fantasia" tag for more) an article popped up recently which has some details to share, including a history of how aphantasia was discovered in the scientific sense. I don't have "spatial thoughts" the way the author does, but it's also a pretty good discussion of how people who don't form mental images (or can't access sound, smell, etc in their minds) still interact normally with the world.

Here's some fucked up shit I didn't expect, however:

In a 2015 paper, a group of researchers [...] identified a new syndrome they called “Severely Deficient Autobiographical Memory,” or SDAM for short. People with SDAM lack the ability to relive past experiences in their minds. While this condition is rare among the general population, a preliminary survey hints at a link with aphantasia, with as many as 51 percent of a sample of 2,000 SDAM individuals also having aphantasia. My own experience is similar. Past episodes of my life—when I can recall them at all—feel distant and non-sensory. [...] I would describe my recollections as summaries of key facts rather than first-person “mind movies.” When asked, out of the blue, about an experience I’ve surely had—say, any childhood birthday party—my mind first responds by drawing a blank. It feels as if my episodic memories were filed into a “mental cabinet” without an index. Many memories are in there, somewhere, but retrieving them is a daunting task unless I’m provided with very specific prompts. With some groping work of deduction (where did I live at the time? Who did I hang out with?) I can gather enough hints to bring out some locations and non-visual facts: I had a big party in our countryside garden when I was 11 or 12; there was cake; a lot of kids running around and … that’s about it.

This is one hundred percent how I access memory and how I assumed everyone did -- I am well aware I don't remember chunks of my past (or only remember them if prompted by something) but I do the same thing he does. I ask myself where I was living, or what other things were happening at the time, or I snag on a rare memory of a piece of clothing or a feeling, and I extrapolate from there. I don't relive memories in the way that the article implies regular people do, and while I will recognize say, the smell of a specific library, a deeply ingrained scent for me, I don't remember the smell if I'm not standing there smelling it. And this explains my dedication to making an annual photobook documenting the past year, each December -- the photobooks are powerful memory triggers and have more than once reminded me where I was or what year it was when I did XYZ thing.

Also, turns out that one of the key methods for emotional regulation in most people is calling up a happy memory to counteract sad ones, which is why depression is so pervasive, because depressed people have literal biological impairments to remembering or reliving positive memories.

And SDAM, associated with aphantasia, is an impairment to reliving any memory at all, so...

Big ol' neurological yikes, guys.

[mpregandproud]

The man of my dreams

Getting pregnant was the best thing I've ever done in my life. I used to be the invisible kid in class. I was skinny, unattractive, nobody noticed me. I never had a boyfriend, and I had a hard time finding a guy to fuck. But sometimes life has surprises in store.

One night at a fraternity party I got drunk and woke up the next day naked on a bed. I didn't remember anything that had happened the day before, but something in me felt different.

It took me a couple of weeks to figure out what it was. That night I don't remember I got pregnant. I was carrying a baby.

A month into the pregnancy, my belly was already showing a little. My skin glowed, my hair looked better than ever and my body grew. Something clicked with my fellow faculty members because from that day on I started getting visitors in my room or they would offer to accompany me to the bathrooms every time I had to leave class to pee. And it only got better as the months went by.

Frank, Isaak, Daniel, David, Aaron, Scott, Bruce, Bob… there wasn't a guy who didn't approach me since I got pregnant. Tall, muscular, blondes, brunettes, attractive, and with huge dicks. My ass had never had such a good time as it had these past few months.

But there was only one problem. The one guy I'd always liked, the one I'd been talking to at that party nine months ago, George, was the only one who hadn't paid any attention to me. He was the most handsome man I'd ever seen. Tall, athletic, intelligent, dark hair and beard. Someone mysterious, but successful. The man of my life, even if he didn't know it yet.

These last few weeks, on the other hand, my sexual activity has slowed down quite a bit. My huge belly, I am expecting triplets after all, prevents me from going to class every day. The doctor has recommended me to rest, so my encounters have gone. My pleasure lately is to eat like a pig, while lying in my underwear on the couch watching episodes of Friends.

One of these days, while I was devouring two huge pizzas, the doorbell rang. With great difficulty I got up and approached the door. I had to stop a couple of times, because for the last couple of days the contractions have started. I'm about to give birth, it's nothing unusual.

When I opened the door my water almost broke. The man that was waiting only lives in my dreams. George was standing there, wearing a tight white T-shirt that showed all his muscles. I didn't know how to react, I didn't know what to say, I was speechless:

- "Hello, handsome" - He said to me with a perfect smile.

- "H... h... hi. What are you doing here?" - I answered with a blush on my face. Was that a dream I was seeing?

- "I think you have something that's mine… ours. Don't you?"

- "What do you mean?" - I was speechless again. What would I want to say.

- "Nine months ago we were together... don't you remember? I was scared after fucking you, it was my first time with a man and I never felt that good with someone. I was stupid, I ran away and I haven't dared to come back here".

- "You? Was it you? Did you get me pregnant?"

- "Yes, I think I did. I spent the night with you, we were together all the time and after many drinks you took me to bed."

- "Thank you. I couldn't say anything else..."

- "Thank you?"

- "Yes, thank you for giving me the greatest gift of my life." - We were both crying and smiling at the same time.

- "Get the over here!" - He grabbed my face with his two strong hands and kissed me with a passion I had never felt before.

We kissed and went to the bed. He helped me take off my boxers and ate my whole cock. Fuck, what is this, I've never been so hard. If I didn't cum four times I didn't cum any, and this had only just begun.

With the same confidence with which he appeared in my house he grabbed my belly on both sides and kissed every inch of my skin and sucked my breasts that were already a considerable size with milk. My body was filled with an electricity that I had never experienced before. I was in heaven. This is real love.

When I thought it was all over, he opened my legs and pushed his penis in. A slow, gentle movement. The gentleness, the pleasure, the rhythm. Again, this man is a sex god, and the father of my children. He is mine. He is mine. HE IS MINE.

And then... the waters broke. A whirlwind of water rushed out of me. The three little people who united us forever were coming. In the end I will not give birth alone, George is here with me. Dad and daddy, finally together.