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titanicfreija · 4 months ago

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I might end up giving these two colors, too...

Spoilers just in case

Forgot Someone(s)

"SUNNY!"

The pair of voices broadcast to every audio source in the barracks, and Freija glanced up from her disassembled Explosive Personality. "I think your friends have been worried," she teased, grinning.

Sunny continued drawing on her table, tiny scratching noises barely audible through the closed glass cover. "Can we invite them over? I have to finish this."

"Sure." Freija waited to see how hacked their living room was.

The Ghosts appeared, one in a plain black Crucible counter shell and the other rippling with rainbows under a sweeping growth of solidified Light.

Neither bothered acknowledging Freija, scanning the room briefly before jetting over the table. "You were home for a whole week and never called?!" cried one.

"You died and you didn't tell us!?" howled the other.

"Home twice!"

"Yeah, home twice!"

Sunny, using their commlink, said, "We've been busy."

Freija brushed past the Ghosts and tapped the edge with a fingertip. "Love you, Sunny Bun. I'll let you guys talk." She kissed her fingers and tapped the table again, then redirected to their guests. "Nice to see you again. Don't break anything."

The Ghosts gave Freija affirmative bobs and she strode off.

"So this is the table?" asked This One. "I wouldn't expect this quality from her."

"Why not?"

"Dunno. She just seems the type to force things together instead of make them fit, you know?"

"Fair enough."

"Why didn't you contact us when you got back?!" cried Harmony.

"It's been a lot," Sunny huffed. "Freija has been doing her usual falling-to-pieces after something too big happened--"

"Something too big?" echoed This One. "Your death? Too big? Is this the phrase we're really going to use?"

"Your Guardian certainly is known to be sensitive but you died!" Harmony pressed.

"Did Rex snitch?"

"We knew when it happened! But then you came back and you showed up here, and we figured we had to be wrong! But then --"

"So he did snitch."

"We asked!" cried Harmony. "We couldn't find you to ask, you were in Banner at the time, so we asked him and he told us!"

Sunny groaned and they heard her tap the glass, probably on accident.

"I did die. Temporarily," Sunny admitted. "I've been inside a lot because Freija has had a really hard time with it. She's doing better, but there's occasionally--"

"What was it like?" Harmony interjected. "I'm sorry your Guardian is going to pieces, but we might as well listen to This One complain about fieldwork, it's shorter."

Sunny hardly missed a beat. "It hurt so much I couldn't stop screaming, and then I couldn't feel or see anything and all I could hear was Freija telling me I could rest now," she huffed. "Cayde brought me back."

"What was it like to be resurrected?" asked This One.

"Like.... Imagine if all your sensors are turned off, and then they start coming on, not one by one but just really slowly all at once. So you can hear narrow frequencies and see lights, which broaden into our normal ranges. It took nearly a minute for everything to feel alive again, and... If I'm perfectly honest, I completely understand the grogginess of their earlier resurrections. I've heard Guardians say the first ones are the worst, but I can't imagine that being any better. I hope I never find out."

"What was it like to be one with the Traveler again?" Harmony asked.

"Like.... Being... Home. If Freija had been in with me, I don't think I could have felt any more complete. I could really truly rest if she died with me."

"You were still bound to your Guardian? Even dead?" asked This One.

"I wanted to be. I could have let go. I'm sure lots of dead Ghosts try to hang on as long as they can. I would have, I think. After long enough."

"So how do you think the Ghost-Guardian connection works?" asked Harmony. "We didn't lose our ties, just our source, during Red War, I didn't think we would be enough of ourself to hang on in death."

Sunny took a while to answer.

"I think we, Ghosts, are conduits, as it's been determined. But... we deliver Light as an inert source of energy, which has to meet the spark of a Guardian to meet its potential. So as soon as we make that connection, we've made it until we unmake it. So we find, then fuel, the spark, which turns into the Light use we know as it is, where it.... Well, for an analogy, from water into steam or fuel into a fire or some other way to indicate a massive transfer or translation or translocation of energy."

Harmony bounced wildly and spun in place. "Ohh, that lines up with Kelly's back burner theory. She's working on the-- anyway, the Light! The Light is the Traveler's strength, but it gets it from everyone! And Guardians, especially, but humans, and probably even the Krill and Eliksni make Light. Or feed it, respond to it so strongly that in sharing in the Traveler's gifts, growing, they are strengthening it."

"So... It feeds on literal growth and development?" asked This One. "Good one."

"Why the violence?" sighed Sunny. "Why do they have to blow things up?"

"They were getting blown up," said This One. "It's not unreasonable."

Sunny groaned again.

"What are you drawing?"

"A thing," Sunny huffed. "I'm sorry I didn't contact you guys, but I really have been busy with Freija. And myself, because I kind of did the same thing she did and it's been slower but I'm getting unsteady about my death, too."

"Do you feel different?"

"After having been dead? Not really. It's the healed damage that makes me feel different. The Witness tried to rip me apart, and it loosened my sense of being attached to my shell... Do you guys think we can take the shell off? Our core?"

"I've never tried," said Harmony.

"I'm certain we're too pressurized to allow any sort of weakness or give in the structure containing us," This One said. "What did you feel that makes you ask?"

"It.... I got really hurt."

"We knew."

"So while I was cracked up like that, I spilled it, but it wasn't really acting pressurized, even though the Light was so close to the surface we could see it. And we're made of Light itself. I don't know, it just made me wonder."

"Maybe look into some of the morbid stuff in the forbidden chunks of library?" suggested This One.

"Good one."

The three hovered in silence for several seconds.

"I'm glad you didn't stay dead," Harmony said eventually. "What happened?"

"Cayde, who was also a construct of the Light, sent his Light into my shell. Which is part of why I said what I do about the connection. It was his Light, then it was just Light, and then it became mine, but at no point were we connected like Guardian and Ghost, and at no point was I disconnected from Freija."

This One asked, "What were your last thoughts?"

The silence rang. Harmony and This One glanced at each other, and Harmony was just about to excuse the question when Sunny barely mumbled, "Goodbye, Freija."

The silence that followed managed to be casual and uncomfortable at the same time, and eventually, the hiding Ghost said, "The last thing I said was, "it just hurts." Because she's said it to me a million times. She'll be in so much pain, over and over, trying to do the stupidest things, and when I finally beg her to stop, that's what she says. I knew she meant it was worth it. But I didn't know how true it was. But she was starting to give after I screamed, and I said 'don't' and 'it just hurts'."

"It hurt me, too," agreed This One.

"Yeah. I can't imagine trying to do it with a compromised shell," Harmony seconded.

"I don't recommend it."

The table finally cracked open and the glass became transparent.

Impressed into one end was Sunny's winter lotus shell featuring the ears of Hareball, with the planets of Sol laid in front of it, from Mercury to Neptune.

"Not bad," said This One.

"Not bad?!" echoed Harmony.

Sunny turned the lights on.

A string of tiny LEDs lit one side, bouncing off a mirror under the lip and shining on carefully shaped ridges, which cast a long, witness-shaped shadow over the planets. As they watched, the lights moved, illumination crawling around the edge to spill light over the planets from the other side of the Ghost and making the Witness fall away. Sunny had carved the Ghost in just right to get the best light off it, giving it definition without blocking off the solar system. Finally, a second set of lights on the other end of the table illuminated a giant arc of the Traveler, carved specifically to bounce the light around inside its circle and shine bright, almost glaring on the glass above.

"And the Light is blocked by the Witness in the beginning," Sunny added as the lights blinked out and started over. "I don't know if I can let Freija see it, but the lights are a recent change and I know she'd love to see them used."

Sunny finally turned to her friends to see their reactions, but both had begun hovering face down over the thing, watching it loop as Sunny perfected the timing.

"You mentioned you were an artist," said Harmony. "Wow!"

"Can I look inside the table?" asked This One. "What's going on here?" He didn't touch but he got close enough to worry Sunny, and she ushered him away.

"I'll let you look at the schematics, but Freija is the only one allowed in the mechanism." The sparkling Ghost bumped into Harmony, then accepted the gentle bump from This One. "I am sorry I didn't contact you. I'm glad to see you. It really has been a lot."

"We're glad you're not still dead," Harmony said. "We would miss you."

"I'm glad I'm not still dead, too. I did miss you."

"So if being resurrected is like turning on, is dying like turning off?" This One asked.

"No. It's not a simultaneous shutdown of all parts. My vision went first. My hearing went last. I don't know when it was the difference between being wounded and dying. Freija said that's something you do eventually figure out, but I couldn't and still don't want to know. But I kept finding new parts that wouldn't work, new things that went out while I wasn't looking, a complete cascade failure of my shell to maintain the regulation of my Light, and then Freija's voice got through and said I could rest now. So I... Ignored...? Let go? Put the damage out of my mind and knew I was dying and going to die now. And for some reason, that made me feel better, but it made me so sad. And I said goodbye, only I couldn't get my voice to work. So the last thing I communicated to her was a deathwish. I know we did the right thing, but I still feel like Freija is right to be mad at me."

"Are you okay?" asked Harmony.

"Mostly," the Ghost said with a small roll of her shell flaps. "I want to go back to the Pale Heart but we're on a break until she recovers a little better.

"Yeah? I've almost talked Marco into it."

"Sniper practice is an option," hummed Sunny, studying her picture. "I did good."

"Yeah," said Harmony. "I like that you're the hero."

"I originally had my lights go out and let the Traveler shine instead but I left it as a flicker when it's getting brighter and taking your eye off me."

"Nice," said This One. "I think you can still show it to Freija. This really is a fancy table. I imagined a work table with sand on top."

"That was where it started, only the worktop was upside down," Sunny said. "The glass was there first. Then the transparency adjuster. Then the lights. Then the shaker, which will shake the tray and erase the picture when I'm ready for a blank slate, that was the hardest thing we added but it's been worth it. Then the mirrors. Then the other lights, because these are the second set, the programming I can do what them is far superior to the last set. It was her idea."

Harmony and This One circled admiringly. "I didn't know you were that much of an artist," This One said.

"I forgot," said Sunny. "I did it to kill time while I was searching, I would pick a place good for it and scan as wide as I could for bone matter. I told Freija about it during that mess on the Arcology, and she made me the table."

"I can certainly see why you brag on it," said Harmony cheerfully.

"Thank you!"

"Could you still perceive time when you were dead?" This One asked.

"I have no way to measure that."

"Did you sense any capacity for movement?" Harmony inquired.

"Not only was I incorporeal, but I did not exist within a space."

"Any sensory intake?" This One asked.

"Again, not only did I not have a way to sense things, but nothing could be there to sense. The only thing that kept me in myself was remembering Freija."

They paused for a second, then This One said, "How long--" and Harmony tapped him hard on the side.

"Is it anything to do with Freija?" sighed Sunny. "I knew she'd be mortal, I was not certain she would handle that well at all. I could only hope she would learn to compensate before she died."

"I was just gonna ask how long you were gonna hole up inside. We miss you," This One said. "You usually throw enough asides to keep us going when we're out of conversation, and you know any two of us needs the third to moderate before long. You really need to think about yourself a little, you know?"

Sunny wheeled and circled. "I'm still trying to handle it, too. I did a lot today. I might do another piece in another couple of days. Thinking while carving is nice."

"Come out tomorrow night, we can talk about the Pale Heart. Kelly has all kinds of theories to share!" Harmony cheered. "For instance, that the veil was intentionally removed because it didn't like remembering; or the one I mentioned where humans naturally grow Light and that's the spark we find, I'll have to explain that later."

This One and Sunny blinked at Harmony, then bobbed at one another. "Sure," they agreed tentatively.

"Tomorrow night," Sunny confirmed. "I'll be there."

#destiny 2 #d2 #ocs #writing #sunny #scribble #Ghosts #ghost chatter

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the-single-element · 1 year ago

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Good morning.

As the Jerusalem Debates draw to a close in Matthew's Good News this week, something remains to be discussed.

Jesus has talked about the Kingdom within us and among us, re-framing it upon the foundation of John the Baptist's testimony. He has said outright what we've been hearing since Pentecost: that the Kingdom is too big for any one people or culture. He has parried trick questions and turned them into stumpers for his opposition instead.

But something is missing. John the Baptist prepared Jesus's way, but - compared to all the roadwork that was done by God in the Torah - the message of John alone would be shallow foundations.

Jesus is notorious for teaching by his own authority, rather than purely via interpretation of scripture and precedent. But then what of the rich history of God's past intercessions for humanity? What of the upcoming Passover feast? Will Jesus make good on his promise at the beginning of his ministry that he came, not to abolish the teachings of the Tanakh, but to fulfill them?

The covenant at Sinai begins with the Ten Commandments. It then proceeds into what reads, at least to me, like an ancient legal code, describing how to resolve the sorts of legal disputes a pastoralist Bronze Age community might encounter. And yet, interspersed with what seems like normal - for the time - laws on restitution and proper fines or penalties for injury, there's hints of something else.

For one thing, there's hints in the religious laws, in the repeated, absolute warning not to take up other gods, lest they be a "snare". What kind of snare? Why is God so consistently insistent about that - in a place and time where such exclusivity was abnormal - to the extent that the Shema became one of the most famous phrases in Judaism, recited multiple times a day, and one of the "greatest commandments" of Christianity? Today's blog post won't attempt to answer that; it's a deeper and thornier question than I'm ready to come to any conclusions about right now, much less claim on the Internet that I know the answer.

But there's also hints of another kind, in the excerpt chosen for today's readings. An excerpt that destroys the idea of debt relations as we normally understand them, in a way that has almost been forgotten today. An excerpt that destroys the most common ostracisms and disenfranchisements of the time: against the foreigner, against the widow.

This might sound familiar, to folks who have been following along with Matthew's Good News this year. These seem very close to the same topics that Jesus has been discussing all along - the topics on which the Kingdom differs from the kingdoms of this world. The Sinai code already shows hints of it, of another world's logic breaking through into our own - one based not on legal restitution and "balancing the books", but on a deeper, more fundamental cause-and-effect symmetry. A more enduring principle, which we will one day understand fully, but for now we can only understand by parable and approximation. A principle fundamentally entangled with who our God is.

And Jesus articulates this principle today. Jesus, pulled into a theological brainteaser ("which commandment is greatest") that many at the time debated over, says the Shema is the highest law - a popular answer - but also that the Golden Rule is its equivalent. That, once again, it's all one thing, immanent in the nature of God-who-is-love. From where we stand today, the Kingdom's full flower may only be visible in sudden glimpses, in those contexts - like the community in Saloniki that Paul writes to today - where it's fully taken root. But it is in our midst, among and within us, in part because its foundations have been under construction since the beginning of God's relationship with humanity. Our God, for whom "a thousand years are like a day", is always playing the long game.

So for us, today's Good News might be a "back to basics" sort of message. Just as Jews have their 613 commandments, Christianity as practiced today has all sorts of practices and prohibitions. So, just like Jesus's contemporaries, we should take the opportunity to refocus those practices, and, if we practice them, practice them because of their roots in the actionable love of the Kingdom - their basis and underlying principle, the titular "single element" of this blog at the foundation of the structure of our faith.

Best wishes to you and yours.

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disgustedorite · 1 year ago

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Joe Biden isn't 'misled' he's actively participating in a genocide while also denying its existence. What the fuck makes you think he, or any other democrat, would do anything to prevent a genocide here? Our only hope for liberation is organizing outside of bourgeoise political parties and forming militant organizations that can defend ourselves.

Remember that:

The prevailing propaganda in the US is "everyone in the middle east is a terrorist", and that politicians are not immune to said propaganda. Most people on the left aren't either. Biden is less sheltered than any other president we've had for a while, but he's still in the politician world which is more sheltered than it should be.

A lot of people really genuinely believe that the reports of genocide are exaggerated, a lot more than you realize, not out of malice but because of the propaganda I just mentioned and due to a lack of information being disseminated.

The vast majority of information about what's ACTUALLY HAPPENING in Gaza is exclusively circulating in extremely far left spaces, much further left than any in-office US politician you can name off the top of your head. Information simply isn't being disseminated to more left-center spaces, which is why you see so many people on the left supporting Israel and being confused and upset when people even further left start screaming at them.

Have you looked at any website that's been standing with Israel? Every single one of them has framed the Palestinian perspective as seeking a "final solution" against Jews--anyone who hears that first is gonna misguidedly shut out anything to the contrary because anyone against calling it the "final solution" is an automatic Nazi from that perspective. It's similar psychology to how so many people got locked into qanon not because they wanted to believe it, but because people going against it are framed as "supporting pedophiles".

Hamas is the face of literally all of this, especially in the media. It's not the fault of the Gazans that they're stuck with Hamas as their only chance at freedom at this point, but anyone not in the aforementioned far left spaces that actually report on it doesn't understand that.

I could be proven wrong, but it's realistic that Biden just straight up doesn't realize that people are telling the truth about it being a genocide and has, with information passed to him only though the filter of media and other politicians, and like basically everyone who isn't in far left circles, been lead to believe it to be a genocide against Israeli Jews instead, especially as the face of Gazan resistance right now is, unfortunately, Hamas. Knowingly supporting a genocide is in serious conflict with all of his other actions as president thus far, and someone needs to give him a reality check. It's a really fucking bad situation, but there's not much we can do about it at this point if protests don't get through to him. But as said in a previous post, it would also be so so much worse if Trump was in office--he'd proudly call it what it is with some stupid trumpy phrasing and support his literal buddy Benjamin Netanyahu anyway, and Gaza would just be a black mark on the coast by now with nobody left to report the number of casualties, and we might not even hear about it beyond a short "oh, Gaza was wiped off the map, aah, bad" that everyone forgets about in a day once the news suppression kicks in. And a bunch of people would be dead in the US too, we'd be in a hot nuclear war involving Russia and China, and the democracy would probably be over, but that's beside the point. I'd say that's a pretty important difference.

Meanwhile, while plenty of people are justifiably angry and saying they won't vote as a personal choice, many more who are actually calling for other people to not vote at all are social media accounts that mysteriously appeared or underwent a dramatic transformation only in the past three weeks. I spotted a former mutual who was hispanic living with their Mexican immigrant family in the US mysteriously turn into a Palestinian whose entire family except for themself lives in Gaza, whose deaths they then proceeded to liveblog one by one. Many of these blogs frequently share information sourced only from tweets and fake news sites that use overly loaded language that adds nothing to the information being shared, or even directly distracts from the facts, and serves only to make the reader angrier. Does this not sound a little bit familiar?

Everything sucks right now, but do what you can to slow down the rate at which things go downhill to give as many people as possible a fighting chance. If you don't, you become an easily sniped target in a worse world that could have been prevented.

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childrensbread · 2 years ago

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Where To Find Courage

Joshua Installed as Leader

💜 After the death of Moses the servant of the Lord, the Lord said to Joshua son of Nun, Moses’ aide:

“Moses my servant is dead. Now then, you and all these people, get ready to cross the Jordan River into the land I am about to give to them—to the Israelites.

I will give you every place where you set your foot, as I promised Moses.

Your territory will extend from the desert to Lebanon, and from the great river, the Euphrates—all the Hittite country—to the Mediterranean Sea in the west.

No one will be able to stand against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.

Be strong and courageous, because you will lead these people to inherit the land I swore to their ancestors to give them.

“Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, that you may be successful wherever you go.

Keep this Book of the Law always on your lips; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful.

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

~Joshua 1:1-9 ✝️

Devotional

These past weeks, we've been contemplating seven heavenly virtues.

Heavenly virtues are character traits that we're invited to grow in as Christians. Over the next seven days, we'll be exploring the final virtues: Courage and wisdom. These are skills we all need for life. Why not join us each day?

Courage is the ability to confront fear, uncertainty and intimidation. It's the strength of character that enables us to endure adversity. In today's tension-filled culture, we regularly find ourselves requiring this virtue.

Courage is the very thing which holds our faith, hope and love together as we navigate rough times. It's critical.

Do you feel courageous today?

Pause and reflect. Would you like to grow in courage?

As God commissions Joshua in today's passage, He gives him what is essentially a movie-level team talk. This is the "comeback" moment. The half-time speech that changes everything. You can almost imagine the epic soundtrack swelling up behind God's words as He exhorts Joshua to step into Canaan. There's much we can learn.

God's advice centers around one repeated phrase: "Be strong and courageous." The message is clear. Stepping into God's promise won't happen by accident. It will require fortitude.

Today, we will not accidentally" do God's will. Rather, we need Spirit-filled intention and courage to see God's Kingdom come in our lives. If we're to experience God's promises, we must step out boldly. We cannot sit back!

Thankfully, God didn't only instruct Joshua to be courageous. He also told him where to find courage. Here's three tips:

First, meditate on scripture. God spoke to Joshua: "Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you..." (1:7). Slow down and soak it in! The Bible, with all its truth and promises, is a wellspring of courage. It gives us an eternal perspective and reminds us who our almighty God is. As you contemplate God's living word, you'll discover strength to face tough circumstances.

Secondly, obey God's ways. God tells Joshua that obedience is the root of courage and the path to success. Resolve to do life God's way. Pick what is right, even when you feel like running. Stand firm in pursuing good, even if it means rejection. Tell the truth when you're tempted to lie. Choose God today and watch your courage multiply.

Finally, live from God's presence. The world tells us to find courage by looking inward, but the Bible tells us to find courage by looking upward. As God tells Joshua "the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go," we learn this is our ultimate source of strength. When you realize God's with you, you'll find courage to persevere. Jesus is everything you need!

So take heart today. Breathe in deeply, inhaling the strength that comes from God's presence. Then breathe out slowly, exhaling all your fear and anxiety. Choose courage this week. 💜🙏🙂

Source: Glorify App

Image: Sunday School Zone

My Glorify Referral Link: https://share.glorify-app.com/MRSPINO777 ✝️

#jesusfreak #bibletruth #godislove #jesusisthelightoftheworld #jesusneverfails #godisgood #bible reflection #follow jesus #god is our rock #our daily bread #christian motivation #christian inspiration #christian faith #jesussaves #jesuschrist

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palidoozy-art · 2 years ago

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Apologies. Lemme vent for a moment.

This past week my entire friend group (almost) collapsed, so we're not sure the D&D campaign is going to continue. It sucks, but what this means for you guys is that I will be likely salvaging everything original I've made for it and potentially working it into more of an original story (probably involving Twilight Woods). It's a way of saving all the work I've put in, and looking forward instead of feeling sad on what I'm missing out. Characters like Rahadin have designs that are pretty starkly different from RAW (especially in earlier stages of their life) so they can likely be carried forward and made into new characters. Current plot ideas include notadin and a peasant girl getting forced to work together after being trapped in the Woods, which sounds fun and allows me to keep all that dumb romance shit I love.

Anyway if you wanna know the dumbshit reason why I'll go further in depth under the cut, because... fuck, man, I just needa rant, y'know? Book incoming, but the tl;dr is: one of my players was pretending to be a Japanese lady for 11 years.

I'll just go ahead and refer to everyone by their character names, for the sake of privacy. If you look at my art, it’ll also at least give you a little insight into who these people are and were.

So a few weeks ago, I spoke about losing one of our players, Kelogul. He and Miharu always kind of butted heads. Kelogul's been having a lot of trouble adjusting the past year. I'm not going to tell his story, but trust me when I say it's pretty serious. He's in a better spot now, but he got a little aggro. Picking fights where he didn't need to. Dude was in a bad spot, and it came to a head when he tried to speak to Miharu, the two got into a fight and he lost his shit.

For some further clarification: Kelogul is a PoC. He speaks and jokes about it very freely. We've been friends with him for 5-6 years. Miharu was a Japanese lady, living in Chiba, Japan. We were friends with her for 11 years. Kelogul sometimes had a problem of joking about other ethnicities. Not in an edgy way, but in a sort of "east asian people always look good because they don't age" kind of way. One of the things Miharu called him out on that made him exceptionally pissed was for his "mild racism." And as someone that has actively faced racism, growing up as one of the only PoC in a pure white conservative town, he flew off at this comment.

Anyway. We stood by her, because at the time he got really defensive. And if you're joking about someone else's race and make them uncomfortable, like... you're a bit of an asshole, y'know? This is why he left. It was messy and it wasn't a great moment in anyone's lives, but it is what it is.

Two months have passed. He's still part of our team discord, just he's muted it and never checks it. The D&D campaign is going along comfortably, the players are getting along.

And then Miharu tells us that "it's been tearing her up inside," but that she lied to us for 11 years about being a Japanese lady from Chiba. She's actually a white woman living in the northwestern US.

And at first we were like... alright. It's the internet, y'know? People lie on the internet. But then over the course of the next week, as she kept acting like everything was pretty normal, it kind of... sunk in. The lies she told us wasn't just deflection, it wasn't just cutesy "haha I live in Japan!! No I won't tell you anything else about it." They were EXTENSIVE. Shit like:

She chided us for not also converting everything into metric, which we did for her sake.

We actively worked around her schedule. We routinely apologized for "having her wake up so early" so we could have D&D at around 5:30 pm CST. It turns out instead of being about 10 hours ahead of us, she was actually only an hour behind.

Ellerian helped her look for apartments where she was (allegedly) located in Japan, and the two managed to find one successfully. Note: this was a complete fabrication. She never got an apartment.

She changed the way she spoke when she interacted with us. She was soft-spoken, polite, demure, and didn't curse. She acted like English was not her first language. In retrospect, all of this is based around what she "thought" a Japanese lady would speak like, which is extremely gross.

She got a new job and a girlfriend around the time all of us were getting new jobs. These were fabrications. She offered this information to us completely unprompted, she did not need to say any of this. Making the girlfriend fabrication even worse is the fact that Kelogul was going through a divorce around this time, and so in retrospect lying about that might have been an actual attempt to make him feel shittier for being the only one without a partner.

She would happily tell us, with authority, cultural information about Japan when asked. Some of these were relatively harmless -- we would ask her things like how tattoos are viewed in Japan. Some of them were, in retrospect, extremely fucked. When we were having a discussion about cultures changing over time, she expressed fear that Japanese culture would be "diluted" by newer cultures being introduced to it. This hits much differently now.

All of this was done for ELEVEN YEARS. A THIRD OF MY LIFE. It was in no way necessary! She could have come clean in like, year 3 and we would’ve been like “alright that’s weird" but probably moved on by now!

She was 26 years old when she started lying about this shit. 26! She can’t even use the excuse that she was a dumb teen who really liked Naruto and that’s why she lied. You are old enough to know better at 26 years old, and it’s made worse then older you get.

Anyway, a lot of shit she did is coming up in a... different light. Learning about all of this devastated Kelogul. Not only did he think of this lady as his friend, but in his words, "I don't get to wear a fun mask of a different ethnicity every day, and I can't take mine off when it gets inconvenient for me." After we had settled on it, Ellerian demanded Miharu tell him directly, and she did so barely hiding her contempt for him the entire time.

So yesterday's session begins to near, and she tells me that she "feels uncomfortable" with Ellerian confronting her and needs to sit this session out. I tell her that's fine. We wind up just calling off the whole thing, because honestly, vibes are off all around. Ellerian and Kelogul are talking things over, playing games together and dealin' -- kind of rekindling the friendship that was lost in the whole shitshow.

We don't know if she noticed that and hated it, or she just... made a decision, but she left the group chat entirely and has so far ghosted every single one of us. Nobody knows if she's going to show back up, or if she's just... gone. At this point, I hope she hasn't hurt herself, but I don't think I'm going to mind it if she never comes back. I was planning on telling her to leave anyway. Ellerian feels gross and manipulated by her, and that’s not going to go away. She was a close friend of his for 11 years.

Though right now it’s obviously not the most important thing: the D&D campaign itself is up in the air at this point. We may invite Kelogul back -- but we don't know if he even wants to come back, and he needs to make amends with the last player in the group first. We may drag it over the finish line with just two players, but really we're all just unsure at this point. Which is why I'm kind of... at least mentally making plans for taking all the work I've put into this campaign and making something completely new. D&D should be fun, not a clusterfuck, lmao.

So yeah. I don't know how to end this. That's been the through line recently. It's certainly not the worst thing to happen in the past month, but not the best!

Additional note: we lived with Kelogul IRL. We at least know he is not lying lol. There have been a lot of jokes the past few days asking when we’re gonna all collectively pull off our scooby-doo masks and reveal we’ve been dogs or something this entire time.

#palidoozy rambles #just what the fuck man #we've said that phrase so much over the past week #delete later #man ive had a pretty good life but also a pretty weird one

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lipstickstainz · 4 years ago

Text

true lies - s. r. (12/?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: A collection of letters Spencer and you share while you're gone - and then you're gone forever. At least, that what he thinks.

Warnings: some fluff, angst, angst, angst, smoking, slight ptsd, grief and loss

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I'm sososososo sorry. please don't hate me. I love you. gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

Dearest little bear,

two months have passed since you had to leave, and not a day goes by that I don't think of you and wish you were here with me.

We are trying to do everything in our power to be able to bring you back home. But unfortunately, it seems to be taking longer than I would like.

I was told you were working on it as well. You are strong and smart and even though you can't be with me, I'm sure we can do it together.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest Neruda,

I was very happy to receive your message. I always carry it with me, although I would rather be in your arms, but I can't.

I can't tell you where I am right now, but still I wish you were with me. It is warm and beautiful and I am sure you would like it here very much.

Except for these letters, I'm not allowed to talk to any of you, but I like talking to you best anyway. We've come this far. And we'll make it.

Thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

Dearest little bear,

It's been four months and with each passing second it becomes more unbearable. But a light is appearing at the end of the dark tunnel. We think we know who she is.

It won't be long before we can see each other again. And I can't wait to be able to hug you again. To be able to touch you. Or kiss you.

Not much longer. And then nothing can separate us.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest Neruda,

It would have been too good to be with you again at last. But it still takes time.

I have found something that can help us, but for now, just know that I will do everything I can so that I can return home. Back to you. No matter what it costs.

Keep your eyes open. We're closer than you think.

I'm thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

Dearest little bear,

I was given time off to take a break. I was with my mother and she told me that a kind young lady had been here. She doesn't remember you, but she knows you are familiar and that she can trust you. As I do.

I am infinitely grateful. And I'm tired of waiting, but for you I do. For you, I do it all.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest Neruda,

I can no longer grasp a clear thought, because whenever I close my eyes I see everything I have done in review. I can hardly sleep and the nightmares plague me.

I just hope that everything will end soon. It has already been a year since we saw each other. I can't promise you anything, but I hope you know that everything I had to do was for you. For us.

Thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

Dearest little bear,

it's been a few weeks since I've heard from you. I hope you are doing well.

We have found a trail that will take us further.And brings me a little closer to you. And that will bring you back home. I can't wait.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

It's been two months since you wrote to me.

Get back to me as soon as you can.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

Words cannot describe how much I miss you. Or how great the pain in my chest is.

I can't eat, I can't sleep. I can hardly breathe without you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

they hung your picture today. In the portrait you are smiling, proud to finally be part of the team. I can't look at it.

I was sent home, but everything there reminds me of you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

I keep your letters in a small box next to my bed. They are a part of you that I don't want to lose, even though I have already lost you. They are a part of you, just as you are a part of me.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

I went to our bookstore and found a book of poems that you would like. I'll put it with your letters.

No book in the world could have prepared me for the grief I feel. The pain is too engaging for me to talk about it with anyone but you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dear little bear,

it's been almost two years since we last saw each other. I don't remember what you sound like, or what you smell like. Why can't I remember that? Is it wrong of me not to think it's bad? It takes away my pain a little.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dear little bear,

A lot has happened in the two years we've been apart. Too much to ever be able to write down all the things. I just want you to know that this time was not easy for me. Not for any of us.

I put your letters away safely because you will always be important to me. But I have to let you go. And with this, I release you.

I love you. Forever.

With love,

Neruda

You pinch your leg to wake up. Your neck is wet with cold sweat and you have to blink several times to realize that you are in a cab. You run your hand through your hair as the driver looks at you curiously through the rearview mirror. He says nothing, which is why you glance out the window.

The drive from the airport to Quantico only takes an hour, but you still take the opportunity to close your eyes for a moment and doze a little. You haven't had a decent night's sleep in ages, you don't even know what a healthy portion of sleep feels like anymore, because you haven't had that luxury in the last two years.

As the car comes to a stop in front of the FBI building, you pay the driver and get out with your small bag. The building seems much bigger than you remember. You used to spend every day here, it had once been your home. But now you're not even sure you have a home anymore.

You take a deep breath and enter through the large doors, but are directly approached by a security guard.

"Miss? Are you visiting?", he asks suspiciously, extending his arm to keep you at a distance - something that wouldn't do him much good if you were actually trying to get past him.He eyes you up and down, which you can't blame him for. In your ripped jeans, dirty sneakers, and loose sweater, you don't look like someone who belongs here. By now, you don't either.

You look at him. "I'm here to see Unit Chief Prentiss", you reply coolly. You know he's just doing his job, but you're too impatient to let all this wash over you. You know Emily is already in the office. You know her too well not to. Why doesn't he just go get her? You just want to see your friend.

"Chief Prentiss?" He raises an eyebrow. "And what is your request?"

Your gaze is rock hard and your tone cold as ice. "Tell her Y/N Y/L/N is here to see her."

You wait outside the building, letting the morning sun warm your skin and the cigarette burn between your fingers before you put it to your lips and take a drag. Afterwards, you stub it out on a trash can. As you exhale the last bit of smoke, you turn around. And there she is.

Emily is standing at the door, and when you see her, you drop your bag and wrap her in your arms so tightly that you can't breathe. You cling to her, afraid that maybe this whole thing isn't as real as it feels, but you imperceptibly pinch your arm. And she is still with you.

"I thought - they said", she stammers, and it's the first time in your friendship that she's speechless. You hug her even tighter.

"I know", you answer softly, blinking away the tears that have formed in your eyes. The moment is too beautiful to cry. As you break away from each other, Emily wipes her own tears from her cheeks, but some have already landed on her blouse. There are dark stains now.

"I don't even know what to say", she says, smiling at you as you enter the building together. The guard gives you a look, but doesn't ask any questions as you walk past him toward the elevator. Inside, she pushes a button that takes you to the BAU floor. "I can hardly believe you're really here."

Neither can you.

The office is completely silent because no one is here yet except for you. Although nothing has changed, everything has changed because you are now someone else. It's been a long time since you've been here. Two years, but everything in this room is all too familiar to you. The coffee machine, the law books, the files. It feels like you've never been away. It's déjà vu all over again.

While Emily gets you both coffee, you sit down at the round table and wait for her. Your friend sets the cups down on the table before sitting down next to you. She smiles faintly. "How are you?"

You pucker your mouth. How are you? You haven't been asked that question in ages, and to be honest, you don't know how to answer it either. How could you possibly be?

When you don't answer Emily, she phrases her question differently. "What are you feeling right now?"

Your lips become a thin line. "I don't know. It feels like all of this," you point to the room, "isn't a part of me anymore. Nothing has changed, but it still feels foreign."

Emily nods. "You've been through a lot, I guess." She takes a sip of her coffee. "You're right, Y/N. Nothing has really changed here. But you're a different one now, aren't you?"

You open your mouth to answer her, but you don't know what either. Part of you feels at home here, but a bigger part of you knows your place is somewhere else. You just don't know where exactly.

"Do you want to see the others?", Emily asks. "I'm asking you because it's been a long time since you've seen them. And they think you're...you know. Are you ready for that?"

Are you ready for that? You haven't seen either of them in a long time, and it would probably be better not to see them for now, but to let Emily sort it out first. But the team is your family - the closest thing you have to a family. And you've missed them all terribly.

You nod and take a sip of your coffee as JJ and Rossi enter the room. When they see you, they glance uncertainly at Emily, as if they're not sure if it's just imagination, but she nods at them. And that's when all the dams break for JJ.

She pulls you from your chair and hugs you like the salvation of the world depends on it, and David has to pry her cramped arms from you so he can put his around you as well. They affirm to you how much they missed you and ask how you are, wanting to know what happened, but Tara and Penelope join them and that's when it gets too loud for you.

Penelope cries with joy and Tara also can't believe that you are standing in front of her. They besiege you and ask you questions to which you have no answers, so you just smile weakly at them. They definitely don't mean any harm, after all, you've just risen from the dead for them, but you've spent the last while in silence and are no longer used to this volume. So you turn away from them. They look anxiously after you as you sort of flee from them. You hope that this will make the headache go away.

Without paying much attention to where you're going, you find yourself facing the wall where the pictures of the deceased agents hang. And yours is hanging there, too. You don't know how long you've been standing in front of it - minutes? hours? -until a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Y/N?"

You turn around and there stands Spencer. His hair is a little shorter and he looks like he's seen a ghost. Well, he sort of has.

You want to throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, and never let him go. Seeing him knocks the air out of your lungs, which is why you can barely breathe. The two years without him had been hell on earth, but you got through them. For him.

For Spencer, who doesn't take his eyes off you as the blonde woman next to him, whose fingers are intertwined with his, looks at him and asks, "Honey, who's that?"

- tags -

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#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds one shot #Emily Prentiss #tara lewis #Jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner

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ashasmonsters · 3 years ago

Text

The Skateboarder

Female reader x Female orc (Morn)

Citrus rating: Lemon

Content: brief alcohol, stupid memes

Words: 9k

Morn reached between the legs of some intertwined partygoers, retrieved a beer from the strategically placed cooler, then opened it on the strike plate of the living room door. Some of it foamed out and fell on the carpet with the bottle cap but she didn't seem to care. The owners of the sorority house didn't care either.

"...so yeah, she said I stank and got up and left." Morn finished her tale of an attempted one-night stand.

"She didn't even touch you yet?" You asked, leaning in close so she could hear you over the thumping music. As was usual for parties like these, you and Morn had carved out a corner where you could be ignored by everyone else and gossip.

"Well, yeah, but not below the belt. That's what pissed me off. She was all over me all night and as soon as I say I want her to go down on me, she insults me and leaves."

"I mean..." you grinned, unable to resist, "did you stink down there, though?"

Morn punched your shoulder and chuckled.

"Fuck off, it's not like roses and daffodils are the norm. You know, it's like I always say..." It was Morn's turn to grin mischievously.

"Don't fucking say it. I swear to God, Morn. I'm going to laugh really hard and everyone's going to look at me weird. " You pleaded. You knew what would come next; Morn's favorite turn of phrase that she managed to use more often than one would think.

"—like I always say, good pussy smells like the heat coming out of the PS4."

You were true to your word. As you caught your breath between peals of laughter, a few partygoers did in fact stare at you. Despite your prior protests, the stares didn't bother you that much. Here in Morn's gossip corner, all that mattered was whiling the time away until the other half of your group was ready to leave. Dera's whereabouts were unknown but Lash was visible in the corner of the room.

"Looks like Lash's plan is all coming together." You noted. Morn turned to look as well; she was aggressively making out with an Elf boy. He licked her tusks. You grimaced.

"Goddamn. When Lash wants something she gets it."

"She mentioned that guy... what, like, yesterday?" You asked. "From staring at him across the classroom to heavy petting in less than twenty-four hours. That's a new record."

"Makes me feel like I'm not even the same species," Morn complained, finally turning away from Lash's public display of affection. "I know Orc boldness is a stereotype but it's not one I'd mind living up to."

"That's not Orc boldness, that's Lash boldness," you chortled. "Don't be down on yourself for not having it. Besides, she's not looking for a one-night deal; if that Elf doesn't call her back tomorrow she's gonna have her week ruined."

"I guess that's true..." Morn sighed.

"Morn." You firmly squeezed her shoulder and stared at her. "I love Lash to death, but you've never called me at three in the morning crying over the end of a week-and-a-half-long relationship. It's okay to not be dating a new person all the time."

"Yeah, I know." She finished her beer and smiled a bit.

"Besides, if you were hunting down an object of desire every time we were at a party, I'd have no one to chill with. Morn's Gossip Corner is the only thing getting me out of the dorm on Friday nights."

"I'm glad to be of service." She dramatically saluted. "You're right, though. I guess it's just the party atmosphere that makes me forget sleeping around and dating have drawbacks."

"Definitely the party vibe getting to you," you affirmed. "Speaking of sleeping around, though... where's Dera?"

"If I had to guess, upstairs. Text her." Morn suggested.

You pulled out your phone and opened the group chat, aptly titled "THA HOOLIGANZ 👩‍💻👩‍✈️👩‍⚕️🕵️‍♀️" and sent a message:

You: dera where tf are u, its almost been an hour

Almost immediately the indicator that Dera was typing popped up, followed by her reply:

Dera: upstairs. firbolg football player. huge 🍆

"Oh, god." You gagged. Morn pulled out her phone in response to see the cause, then had a similar reaction. She started tapping away at her phone's keyboard.

Morn: damn, dera, chill. we just wanted to make sure you were ok.

The typing indicator preceded yet another reply from Dera.

Dera: lol ok mom

"She's got an attitude tonight, sheesh." Morn shook her head and put her phone away.

"I think tonight an early exit might be a good idea. Dera and Lash seem pretty occupied," you said. You couldn't find Lash or her Elven paramour in the room anymore.

"I think you're right. Text the group and tell 'em we're leaving."

You nodded and did so, receiving 👍 responses from both Dera and Lash after a short pause.

"Let's go." You got up from your place on the sunken-in couch and helped Morn up. The two of you navigated through the fire code-violating sorority house to the front door, where you met the cool night air and the odor of cigarettes. Morn's skateboard was next to yours, propped against the thick trunk of a long-dead tree.

"I don't wanna go back to the dorms yet. It's not that late," Morn said, checking her watch.

"Pizza?" You suggested.

"Pizza."

Before long you were both skating into the night. The entire university town was built into the side of a mountain with the greek life houses at the top, making it a breeze to fashionably exit parties like this one. There were a few drunken revelers to dodge on the way down, but once you cleared the sororities and fraternities it was smooth skating. The incandescent streetlights flew past as century-old houses gave way to newer corner stores and parks. Before long, you and Morn were skating through the thick of the city on a course set for Main Street.

The pleasant sound of plastic wheels on stamped concrete was soon married with the aroma of cheap, indulgent pizza. You wouldn't have needed any senses other than smell to know you arrived at your destination: "Get Stuffed," the type of place where a slice was a dollar and you could write on the walls. As was usual for the time when Friday became Saturday, it was packed with the university crowd; too packed to even sit inside.

You and Morn shimmied to the counter and ordered your usuals. Fortunately, Get Stuffed had nailed speedy service and it was only a few short moments before you were on your way out with greasy pizza on flimsy paper plates. You set your skateboards on the curb and sat on them, side-by-side.

"Thanks for fleeing with me," Morn said, folding her slice of pizza and tucking her loose black curls behind her ear.

"Anytime, Morn." You mimicked her pizza fold before noticing something about the beanie she wore. It was oddly familiar, so you delayed your first bite. "Hey, where's that beanie from?" Morn looked at you, chewing.

"This thing?" She tugged at the chunky burgundy yarn. "You should know."

"I should know?" You mused, finally chewing on your first bite of pizza. It was just as greasy and gratifying as you expected it to be. Then, as realization dawned on you, it almost fell out of your mouth. "You kept that thing for this long?!"

"Of course. It's a good beanie. It's lasted... what, since second grade?" She smirked. "It's one of the best birthday gifts I've gotten. Thanks, by the way."

"Thank you for holding onto it," you countered. "The memories... wow."

"That was the birthday party where we had a sleepover afterward. We played tag, and—"

"Oh, no," you moaned, remembering.

"...you ran so hard that you threw up." Morn giggled. Your cheeks still burned at the vivid memory. You almost forgot crocheting Morn's beanie, but you never forget throwing up at someone's birthday party.

"It's crazy we've been friends for so long." You gracefully changed the subject and started working on your pizza slice in earnest.

"It's not that crazy. You've always been there for me."

"I mean... I try..." you were hiding your blush, feeling warm as Morn readied to shower you with compliments.

"Like the time Chrissie Becker rejected my invitation to prom. You started crying when I started crying, and I hadn't even told you what happened yet." Morn giggled warmly. "Or when our families went camping together and you let me share your sleeping bag when I forgot mine."

"I couldn't just let you sleep on the ground!" you sheepishly defended yourself against the flattery.

"Even though you knew I kicked in my sleep." Morn looked up from her plate and smiled at you, her tusks glinting under the streetlights.

"You're more important to me than my shins," you said quietly.

"Hah!" Morn laughed heartily, bumping her skateboard into yours and wrapping an arm around you. "You're more important to me than my shins."

In Morn's embrace there on the sidewalk, you melted. She had such a way of effortlessly making you feel safe and loved. She had been there for you as well several times and was damn good at it. You enjoyed the feeling so much that you just sat there quietly until she got a little worried.

"Hey, did I tease you too much?" Her wry grin had been replaced with a slight frown and sympathetic brow.

"No, no..." you reassured her, savoring the dreamy feeling. "It's all good. I'm glad you're here with me. I'm glad we're... friends," you stumbled a bit over the last word.

"Me too," she gave your shoulder a little squeeze.

You both finished your pizza in silence, enjoying each others' side and the ambiance of the city street. After a moment you both tossed the greasy plates into a trash can and skateboarded back to the dorms. The courtyard was where your paths diverged, and after bidding one another goodnight and farewell, you parted. You shared your bed that night with a familiar feeling. Embarrassment, shame, and maybe even guilt. All for the way your heart skipped a beat when she put an arm around you, or the unstoppable smile when she recounted her memories of you. You weren't super familiar with love, at least not in the way Lash and Dera were, but the way Morn made you feel in recent months was more than simple friendship. You agonized over the thought that she wouldn't return those feelings. It was a miracle you managed to sleep at all.

Saturday morning arrived, and with it, a text. You groggily pulled your phone into bed with you to read it after rubbing the sleep from your eyes. It was from THA HOOLIGANZ.

Dera: hey sorry about my sass last nite. i figured y'all left early and that's cool, i was kinda doing my own thing anyway

Lash: LOL sameeee. anyway, does anyone want to meet up for coffee or something? i’d rather be hungover around you guys than my parents 😭

You considered the offer; it would be nice to actually see Lash and Dera after missing them last night. Your moment on the curb with Morn still bothered you, and a distraction from that would be nice.

You: im down, where u wanna go

Dera: u know that cute little cafe on that corner? main street i think?? the one thats literally 100% pink???

Morn: you're thinking of tokidoki cafe! i'm down to go, that’s my spot!

You sighed. This outing wouldn't be very good for distracting you from Morn if Morn was seated across from you.

Dera: thats the one. lets gooooooo

Lash: yes. literally right now. start running

Morn: thanks, but I think I'll skate there. see y'all in a bit

You: same

The morning air was crisp and cool in the way spring mornings always were. It was a shame Lash and Dera were too busy downing aspirin and chugging water to truly enjoy it. Your skateboard served you well as a means of transport on mornings like this; you and your friends were the rare few students who didn't usually sleep in on Saturdays, so you enjoyed the empty sidewalks. The soft plastic wheels gripped the concrete well enough to accommodate any street corners.

The cafe was 100% pink, as promised. The sweet, pillowy smell of crepes mingled with the robust aroma of coffee and met you as you hopped off your skateboard. The tiny size of the place made it easy to tell you were the first to arrive. You ordered the latte-crepe combo that took up the most space on the menu and sat while you waited. You were idly scrolling through your phone when you heard the rhythmic thumping of a skateboard wheels on slabs of sidewalk.

She looked painfully good as she stepped through the cafe's front door. The morning sun made her long black hair golden around the edges and she still wore that damn beanie. Her tusks poked out from her smiling lips when her eyes met yours. Illuminated by sunbeams, her well-toned arm showed every muscle and vein as she gripped her skateboard by the trucks to carry it in.

"Good morning!" she beamed at you. The employee behind the counter smiled at her knowingly.

"The usual, Morn?" he asked.

"Yep!" She quickly answered before sitting across from you, the pins on her denim jacket jingling. "You got here quickly."

"Yeah..." you answered weakly, your conversational skills still recovering from the way Morn held you last night.

"You weren't drinking last night, were you? You alright?" Of course, Morn immediately picked up that something was the matter. It would be stranger if she didn't.

"I'm fine. Where are Lash and Dera?" You deflected. As if on cue, your phone buzzed. THA HOOLIGANZ chimed in.

Lash: lol srry, throwing up. cant make it

Dera: yeah same.

"Unbelievable. Those girls can't seem to show up anywhere lately." Morn had a slightly disapproving tone. She tapped away on her phone.

Morn: this is going on your attendance sheet

Lash: see u in detention, dera

Dera: enjoy your crepes you two!

You chuckled at the exchange.

"That's more like it. I like when you smile." Morn chimed in. "Do more of that."

The waiter saved you from needing to respond by stopping at your table with your orders. A steaming, folded crepe landed before you covered in a sauce just as pink as the rest of the cafe. A warm latte arrived with it and you wrapped your hands around the warm mug. It soothed you a little.

"Morn..." you began, not quite sure what you were going to say. Was this it? Were you going to lay your feelings on the table right here, right now?

"What is it? You can tell me anything." Morn leaned in over the table. "I can tell something's been bothering you lately."

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You didn't even know how to begin; should you preface it with an apology? Some sort of explanation or disclaimer?

"I don't even know if I can tell you. Like, if I can get the words out," you said before sipping your latte. You savored the taste, hoping the espresso would ground you somehow. At the very least you wouldn't be expected to talk with your mouth full.

"There's no rush. I just... I want to help. I've known you long enough that I'm sure there's something I can do." Morn hadn't even touched her crepe yet.

"Let's just, um, eat." You answered.

"Good idea. I'm sure you'll feel like yourself once you've eaten and the coffee starts kicking in." Morn nodded to herself, cutting open her fruit-filled crepe. You similarly started to work on yours. The two of you ate in silence and, for a moment, you did feel better. Fully focusing on the aromas, flavors, and textures of your breakfast stilled your trembling hands. The slightest bit of confidence grew within you halfway through the meal.

"I... um..." the words slowly formed in your mouth. Morn paused, setting down her fork and knife and looking at you intently. "I fell in love. With someone I don't think I should be in love with."

Morn listened but said nothing. She was thinking.

"How do you know it's love?"

"What?" you asked.

"How do you know it's not just a crush? Or, you know, lust?" Morn inquired. You considered the question carefully. Memories of platonic cuddles, impromptu sleepovers, and late-night conversations with Morn came to mind.

"It's love because it's lasted way longer than any crush. I trust this person, and they trust me. I'm not like Lash, pining for the new guy from across the classroom; I know this person really well."

"I see." She paused again. "Why would it be bad to love them? Wouldn't a good history make a romantic relationship easier?"

"Only if they felt the same way..." you sighed and nestled your head in your elbows.

"Ah, right..." Morn looked sheepish. "Well, personally—and I do mean personally, so it might not apply to them—if I had a long-time friend that I had feelings for, I would just tell them."

"Really?" Your eyes widened.

"I mean, yeah. If I and this person had such a long history of trust, then I would trust them to still be friends with me afterward if they didn't feel the same way. I'm sure it would be awkward for a while, but I really don't think it would be, you know... destructive or anything."

More memories came to you. More times where you felt completely open and vulnerable with Morn, and when she did with you. Times when you comforted each other and shared secrets under blanket forts and playground swings and gymnasium bleachers. Words formed inside your mouth, desperate to make themselves known to the world. Perhaps now would become another one of these memories. You'd look back on it in the future and remember the smell of pink crepes in the pink cafe.

"Morn... I have these feelings for you. I'm talking about you."

You fought the urge to cover your mouth, and you didn't stutter or stammer in the slightest. Though working up the courage was difficult, letting the words go was one of the easiest things you had ever done. Morn didn't react much; an eyebrow rose slowly as she finished chewing. The silence was agonizing.

"I'm happy you trust me enough to share that with me," Morn said calmly. You wanted to shout that's all?! but held your tongue. She took a sip of her latte, clearly in no rush to say more.

"So..." you began, well and truly lost. All your effort had gone into mustering courage and now you had nothing left. Even your anxiety and worry had gone, and you were strangely content, though eager, to hear Morn speak.

"So..." Morn parroted, "does that mean you want to... you know, date me? Like, romantic dates, not besties dates. Kissing dates."

Again, your impulses screamed duh!

"Um, yeah..." you said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. "I'd like that, but... only if you'd like that too."

She sipped her latte again, still calm.

"You know, over the years, I've imagined what we would be like if we were romantic with each other. Like, girlfriend-girlfriends. How could I not? We've known each other for so long."

You nodded, bidding her speak more.

"I never knew you wanted that. I can't imagine how you felt; I could tell something was wrong but I couldn't figure out what." Morn set the mug and her cutlery down, intentionally and warmly looking you in the eye. "I think...

You didn't even breathe.

"I think we should give it a shot." Morn smiled widely. "Does that sound good to you?"

"Yes, yes it does," you finally drew breath. If Morn was feeling a similar tumult of emotions that you were, she was hiding it considerably well. Morn wiped her lips and tusks with a napkin and got up from the table.

"Well, I've got to visit mom and pops tonight, but we've still got Sunday tomorrow. How about we have our first real date then?"

"Uh, sure!" You sat there, dumbfounded. Was it really going to be this easy?

"Cool. I'll let you pick where we go, just like most of our... non-date hangouts," she said, turning to the cashier. She gestured widely to the table. "Put it all on my tab."

"You have a crepe tab?"

Morn chuckled. Making her way to the door, the sunlight caught her hair and skin deliciously.

"I'm a regular. Anyway," she grabbed her skateboard, "see you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow." You answered. She gave you one last toothy grin and stepped out before gliding out of sight, disappearing past the edge of the window. You rested your chin in your hands and sighed like a lovestruck teenager in a coming-of-age movie. Before long, your window-gazing session was interrupted by an employee.

"All done, ma'am?" he asked politely.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, I was spacing out."

"No, it's all good. Thanks for coming by, and if you don't mind me saying..." he looked somewhat pensive.

"What?"

"Don't tell Morn I said this since she's proven that she could snap me in half like a twig, but... speaking as the crepe guy she visits several times a week, I think she's a good match for you."

"But you've never met me before. Maybe once or twice, but—"

"She's told me all about you. All good things, don't worry. It's less about you and more about how Morn talks about you. She gushes when she mentions you, seriously." He paused awkwardly then started to clean up the table. "I've said too much."

"No, thank you," you said. "It's good to know."

"Glad I could help. Anyway... um, thanks for coming in." He waved at you as you got up and left. You nodded and made your exit.

Back at your dorm, you couldn't decide if you wanted to pace or lay in bed and kick your legs. You had so much energy inside you, trapped. It was equally nervous and thrilling. You wondered how Morn kept herself so well composed; something in the back of your mind nagged at you, wondering if it was because she didn't really feel that strongly for you. Enough, you thought to yourself. Morn was your best friend for almost as long as you could remember. She wouldn't toy with you like that. Hell, she explained her entire thought process on the topic before you even confessed to her.

You decided to pace to distract yourself. Those thoughts weren't helpful. Right now you had to choose a place for your first officially non-platonic date. It was never this hard to pick a place to hang out with Morn before...

Then, an idea. It sprung into your mind out of nowhere, and it just felt right. You made sure that the place was open on Sunday, checked the ticket prices... it was perfect. You readied your phone to text Morn the details... but Lash had already sent you a private message. You opened the notification.

Lash: yo how did crepes go?? sorry i no-showed

Your brow furrowed a bit. Lash's random interest was a bit strange, even more so since she was hungover. A dehydrated, vomiting Lash was bedridden for a good half-day in your experience.

You: the cafe was cool! the crepes were good

Unsure if you should be forthcoming about your new development with Morn, you figured they could find out tomorrow once your first "real date" was underway. A change like that would likely be a big deal in your friend group, so a text message wouldn't do the announcement justice anyway.

Lash: how's Morn?

You: shes fine? did something happen??

Lash: no lol, just wondering lol

Two "lol" in one text? You wanted to indulge your suspicions and investigate further, but you decided to leave it at that. You had a date to arrange.

You: still at your parents' place?

Morn: yeah, I'll be back in town tomorrow though

You: k, cool. does meeting at the aviary at 2pm work?

Morn: yeah definitely! what made you pick the aviary?

You: idk if you remember, it was so long ago, but it was the first school field trip we went on as friends

There was a pause as Morn's typing bubble hovered on your screen.

Morn: 😭OMG YOURE SO CUTE IM GONNA CRY😭

Morn: i cant wait to see you tomorrow!!!

You: me too 💕

Your phone landed on your bed with a thump and that nervous energy returned with a vengeance. More pacing, more leg-kicking, even some giggles. This situation felt both extremely real and like a scene from a movie; you never imagined this sort of thing happened in real life, especially in yours. Against all previous expectations, things were going fine. It was thrilling, scary, and made your heart race, but it was going fine. The homework you had to do took a back seat to your excited daydreaming and scheming about tomorrow. You thought about how you would greet her, how you would hug, if and how you would go for a kiss, walking while holding her hand... predictably, sleeping that night was incredibly difficult.

In the morning, you finally executed the plans you fantasized about prior. You decided to err on the side of being overdressed, picking an outfit that wasn't formal but still a little more special than what you would usually wear. You showered, brushed your teeth, swished some mouthwash, and even flossed! Breath mints, a small assortment of Morn's favorite snacks, and an extra water bottle found their way into your bag. If you were going to overthink, then you would take advantage and be overprepared as well. Squeaky clean, dressed to impress, and with a heftier bag than usual, you skateboarded down to the aviary intent on arriving ten minutes early.

The journey was uneventful save for your steadily increasing heart rate. By the time you were waiting for her by the entrance gate, you were fully flustered. You stood still with a kind smile on your face, but anything more complex would have been asking too much of you. The mental rehearsal in your mind's eye ran over and over again: smile, say hi, hug. Smile, say hi, hug. These were all things you had done with Morn before, but with platonic intent instead of this newfound "why not?" intimacy. With how calm and composed Morn had appeared throughout this whole process, you felt as if you were at a disadvantage somehow. You worried in a juvenile sort of way that she was too cool for you.

The way she pulled up to the aviary in her car didn't help that worry at all. Her ride, an old, angular, black thing that roared like a beast, was her pride and joy. She had practically built the thing herself with the number of parts she swapped out of it. It was fully manual and she had the skills to maneuver it gracefully into the parking space. Out from it stepped your actual, honest-to-god, bonafide date.

She smiled at you and your brain melted. You held up a hand in a sort of mellow wave, offering a faint grin. By the time she closed the distance, your simple three-step plan was gone with the wind. Luckily she also decided that greeting with a hug was the correct choice and you were in her embrace quickly. You paused before realizing you should probably return the gesture and wrap your arms around her as well.

"It's so good to see you! You look great," she said, pulling away and looking you over.

"You too..." you breathed, taking your own chance to get a proper look. Her outfit was just as sleek and dark as her car: a pair of black jeans with accompanying boots, a matching leather jacket, and of course, that classic burgundy beanie to top it off.

"Shall we?" She extended a green, competent hand to you. She wasn't wearing her driving gloves today, which was good for your composure; otherwise, you would have well and truly swooned. You accepted her grasp and she gave your hand a firm squeeze before strolling with you to the ticket booth. Thanks to your student IDs, you got in with discounted admission.

The aviary itself was fairly large, and on this particular Sunday, you and Morn practically had the place to yourselves. Other than the idle chatter of a few other scattered visitors, there was only the sound of wind in the leaves and bird calls. The two of you meandered between the exhibits, chatting but not about much in particular. Instead, you were simply content to enjoy each other's company and look at the birds. The birds liked looking at you, too; at one point a pair of free-roaming peacocks followed you and Morn around the aviary.

"Looks like it's a double date," Morn quipped, gesturing to the two plumy birds. They were both mostly brown and lacking the massive, fan-shaped tails.

"They're a pair of girls too. Male peacocks are the ones with the crazy feathers," you noted.

"It's almost like having Lash and Dera tagging along." Morn chuckled. "In fact, if they keep failing to show up these birds would make good replacements."

You looked at the two peacocks, who had started preening each other's feathers.

"Do you think they're besties or girlfriends?" You playfully asked. "That's some pretty intense preening."

"Maybe they're both, like us." Morn wrapped an arm around you and offered you her shoulder. You melted again. "If you had feathers, I'd be preening you right now."

"If I knew how to return that compliment, I would." You said, deliciously rattled by her closeness and warmth.

"I have an idea... if you're cool with it." Morn kept holding you close, turning to make eye contact with you. You faced her and realized how close you were. Trapped in her gaze, you couldn't speak. You gave a faint nod.

The first thing you felt was her tusks on your cheeks. They met the corners of your mouth, pressing gently just before her lips met yours. In reality, the kiss was a quick peck. In your mind, time froze. You could no longer hear the birds calling or wind blowing, only the sound of your heart beating like a drum and a feeling like fire in your chest. Morn pulled away from the kiss with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry if my tusks poked you. I'm still getting the hang of that."

"Hey, practice makes perfect, right?" you let slip with a suaveness that surprised even you. Morn's eyes widened in surprise before she let out a hearty laugh.

"That's the spirit!" She cheered, squeezing you hard. "I'm gonna hold you to it, so be aware: I'm gonna kiss you a bunch more before we're out of here."

"That's fine by me." You couldn't do anything else but giggle. Morn gave you another peck immediately after, angling her head a bit so her tusks didn't have such a lead on her lips. Your first kiss with Morn was perfect as far as you were concerned, but this second one was a bit more graceful.

"Better?" she asked.

"Better."

Your stroll through the aviary continued in this fashion: chatting about this and that, generally gushing about each other and punctuated by more quick kisses. It was strange to have a first date with someone that you knew so well, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. Each kiss felt natural and fun, not nerve-wracking and awkward as in the dates of your past. Before all this, you scoffed at yourself for wishing that there was a switch you could toggle to go from best friends to girlfriends, but so far it seemed to work precisely like that.

To the sound of your giggling, the sun was poised to set soon. The aviary closed early because it was Sunday, and you found yourself with Morn leaning against the gleaming hood of her car. You saw your reflection in it, the two of you framed by the orange sky. She came to your side, attaching to you like a magnet.

"It's probably time we headed home, huh?" she suggested.

"Yeah, probably," you replied reluctantly. "I almost don't want it to end."

"It doesn't have to." Morn smiled. "Did you really think I'd kiss you goodnight and leave you on the curb?"

You giggled. That would certainly be the plan for a first date with a stranger, but this was Morn.

"You could come by and hang out with me in my dorm for a bit?" she asked.

"I'd love to." You answered. Her dorm building and yours were right next to each other, after all. She stood up from the hood of her car and opened the passenger side door, offering the seat to you. Not long after stowing your skateboard in the trunk, you were cruising through the city streets bound for the university. Morn's focus made the ride a smooth one, her hands expertly gripping the steering wheel and gear shifter. She wore a focused but pleased expression as she deftly maneuvered the growling vehicle.

"Oh!" Her concentration broke. "We should get food! We haven't eaten at all."

Tires squealed as she veered right, making a turn she wasn't expecting to make. You gripped your armrest and giggled. The engine roared and, within moments, delivered you to a drive-through whose location Morn seemed to know by heart. She was so familiar with it that she blew past the lit-up menu and instead went directly to order.

"Don't worry, I'll get you something you'll like." She reassured you before making it out of the drive-through, takeout bag in hand, in record time. The bag landed in your lap and delicious smells wafted from it. You were tempted to peek inside and sample its contents, but even while entranced with Morn's driving skills you knew eating in her car was a no-no. Untoasted Pop-Tarts during a late-night study session on her bed were okay but her car was like a temple. You folded the top of the bag to make it easier to resist the temptation.

After she had parked and gotten out of the car, you followed her with takeout bag in one hand and skateboard in the other. This late on a Sunday night, the sky was a deep navy. Stark white light from the lamp posts illuminated the web of pathways that connected the dorms, parking lots, student union, and myriad other places you'd typically skateboard solo to.

A few beeping locks later, you made it to Morn's dorm room. Like yours, it was spartan and tiny, but it belonged to her and her alone. You set the bag down on the solitary table and determined to chow down, but Morn caught your attention. She sat on the twin-sized bed that you had shared with her many times before; platonically, of course. She had an expression that you couldn't quite decipher.

"You okay?" You asked, not sure where to begin.

"I'm great, actually," she said, brushing her hair out of the way so she could look at you. "Sorry if I overdid it with the kisses earlier—"

"You didn't," you interjected.

"I just... It felt great to kiss you. I don't know if it's just my nerves, or the newness of it all, or something else, but... I'm kicking myself for not making the first move on you sooner." She looked away, blushing a forest green on her cheeks. You sat next to her on the bed before she could say anything more.

"Hey, don't feel bad just because I was moping for a bit. The fact I was so worried is proof that you can't really know how someone feels about you until you ask. Even if you were friends since forever ago." You reversed the usual arrangement by wrapping your arm around her. She chuckled softly.

"I can't believe I was stressing myself out over random sorority chicks at parties rejecting me. Being with you just feels so much better than the dating apps and the parties and shit like that," Morn sighed. "I know it's technically only our first date but I really think we're something special."

"We are special," you held her tighter, "we went on our first date after... what, a decade and a half of knowing each other? That kind of history sure beats cheesy Tinder pick-up lines."

"Sure does," Morn punctuated her sentence with a kiss. Instead of giving you a quick peck, she pressed her lips into yours even harder. Within the privacy of her dorm room, your heart fluttered at the notion of Morn being able to do whatever she wanted to you. You felt the beginnings of her tongue at your lips, then she pulled away and took a deep breath. Her face was inches from yours as you caught your breath.

"I really like kissing you," Morn uttered. "Now that we're alone... are you okay if I really kiss you?"

"Really kiss me?" you teased. She got even closer.

"Please?" She played along with her best begging tone.

"Go ham." She kissed you again, giggling at your choice of words with her lips pressed against yours once more. She immediately cradled your head in her strong hands, gently placing you into a reclining position. There wasn't much room, but she managed to fit alongside you in the twin-sized bed all without breaking the kiss. You opened your eyes after pulling away to breathe, and all you could see were her dandelion-colored irises.

"I'm gonna go again," She said, smiling. "I just had to get a good look at you first."

"You can do whatever you want, Morn." You grabbed her arm and placed her hand on you. "Just don't keep me waiting."

Morn kissed you hard for the third time, the hand you held now caressing your body ravenously. As her tongue gently played at your lips, her hand found its way to your chest and played with your breasts. She hardly gave you time to gasp, coming back to your mouth with fervor. Her tongue met yours in earnest now, both of you closing the space on the bed between you. Her body flush with yours, you could feel every muscle as she held you close.

You felt one of her legs settle in between your thighs, and you whined into her mouth as she teasingly rubbed you against it. Even fully clothed the sensation was electric, no doubt due to the person giving it to you. Many nights alone had involved fantasies just like this. Now they were coming true.

Desperately, you began grinding yourself against her leg. You chased the sensation as far as you could, moaning into Morn's kiss. Just as you felt yourself approaching the edge, she removed herself from you. Her leg pulled away and the kiss stopped. You opened your eyes, bewildered. Morn had gotten off the bed and kneeled just next to it, her eyes level with your aching need. She grabbed the waistband of your bottoms before looking you in the eyes again.

"You said you didn't want me to keep you waiting," she grinned, tusks glistening. "This okay?"

"It's more than okay... stop teasing me!" You whined. She nodded, pulling your bottoms off entirely before hovering in between your legs. You could feel her breathe on you through your underwear. God, she was so close; you twitched with each puff of warm breath. Her tusks brushed against the inside of your thighs. With a tentative finger she eased your underwear out of the way, gently planting kisses all around your bare mound. She held your legs in place as they twitched and reacted to her electric touch. She deliberately avoided your tender nub with her warm lips. She was playing with you.

"Morn, please," you begged. She paused to look up at you and give a toothy grin.

"You're so cute when you're frustrated," she teased, quickly going back for more. She felt unimaginably warm against your already hot entrance. It wasn't unlike all those other times you melted at Morn's touch, only now it was so intense you couldn't help but let out gasps and squeaks. She held nothing back this time. Hungrily, she lapped at your slit, each lick finishing with a flourish on your sensitive little nub. You mewled in time with her curling tongue.

"Oh! That's— ah! So good!" You moaned, your back beginning to arch as you squirmed around on the mattress.

"You flatter me," Morn uttered between licks, looking proud. You saw something in her eye before she let go of one of your thighs and brought her hand to your entrance. Her tongue didn't let up at all as she slowly introduced one of her substantial fingers. It fit comfortably inside you at first, but you gasped hard when it started moving. Morn added another soon after, stretching you deliciously.

"I'm gonna come if you keep that up," you panted, your face burning red and lungs desperate for air.

"My pleasure," Morn said before redoubling her efforts. Her fingers curled inside you, making a "come hither" motion that made your hips rock. By this point, Morn's tongue had trouble staying on you as you writhed. You gasped with every finger curl, well and truly lost in the heat of the moment.

"Ah! Morn!" You cried, rocking yourself against her fingers desperate for more. She gave up on trying to lick your nub, instead palming one of your breasts with her other hand and pinning you to the bed. With the new leverage, she worked your insides with her fingers, pumping them in and out of you with her muscular arm. You could see sweat beading on her taut green skin.

"Come for me. I wanna see you come," Morn urged. You could do little else but cry out and oblige her. Your body spasmed hard as you cried out gibberish interspersed with her lovely name. Her fingers didn't stop rubbing against your inner walls, leaving you breathless and faint and tightly wound around her. The coiling pleasure within you finally snapped. Your back arched, completely leaving the bed as Morn pressed her lips into yours. She kissed you hungrily as you wailed into her mouth. There was nothing in your mind but the feeling of her fingers coaxing you through the height of your bliss and holding you there for as long as possible. When the pleasure finally started to subside and your breath returned to you, Morn finally withdrew her fingers and lips and wiped her forehead. She smiled at you wordlessly.

"I love you, Morn," you said, panting. There was nothing else to say, nothing else on your mind. If you had given yourself that sort of bliss on a lonely night, you would be drowsy and lethargic. Instead, with Morn turning her love for you into pleasure that made you cry out and curl, you had never felt more alive. She gave you a moment to catch your breath. Leaving your lips unkissed, she sat by your side and stroked your hair.

"I love you too," she planted a quick kiss on your forehead. "Are you tired?"

You shook your head enthusiastically. Sure, you would likely be sore in a few hours, but you wouldn't dream of denying Morn more of you.

"Good, because I wanna get off too." She chuckled and pecked your lips. Undressing herself completely, she helped you out of what clothes remained until you were both completely bare. You were completely flush against her on the bed once more, your skin perfectly complimenting her green form. Her body was toned and full, muscled yet smooth. Even after all you had just been through, the sight of her still made your heart skip.

"I've always wanted to try this. Spread your legs," she commanded, gently grasping your ankles. You complied and she lifted one of your legs aloft just in front of her as if about to hug it. Still holding your leg pointed toward the ceiling, she straddled your dripping warmth with her own. She eased herself onto you and those lovely electric feelings returned. She moaned for the first time, her pleasured sounds like music to your ears.

The position was a little awkward and bent your back in a strange way, but the feeling of her slick sex pressed against yours was delicious.

"I'm gonna start moving," Morn said. She initiated a gentle rocking motion that made you both gasp. The friction between the two of you felt gorgeous and you soon found yourself reciprocating with your hips. Interlocked and sharing the same squeaks and mewls, you wanted desperately to kiss her but couldn't. You had to lay there at her mercy as Morn clung to your leg and ground herself into you. She doubled up on her pace.

"Oh, shit," Morn groaned, both with pleasure and with effort. She had the same expression as when she was driving; when her head wasn't thrown back with a sigh, she was looking at you with love but also intent. Her grinding made you moan and her glare made you shiver delightfully. You had never felt anything like this before, nor had you even fantasized about Morn pressed up against you like this.

"This feels amazing... ah! Morn..." you sighed between yelps when the friction between you peaked.

"I—I..." Morn gasped, her entire face contorted and flushed. She had brought you to your peak once already, and now you wanted nothing more than to see her reach her own ecstasy.

"Please, Morn, come," you pleaded, mirroring her own urgency when she had brought you to orgasm earlier.

"No, I... Shit, I've got a cramp." She sighed, this time tinged with disappointment as she stopped her grinding. "Ouch." She gently disentangled herself from you, rubbing her thigh. The realization that her creased brow had come from pain and not pleasure embarrassed you a bit, an emotion that Morn echoed.

"Hey, it's okay." You sat up and held her shoulder. Her eyes were downcast as she massaged the cramp out of her muscled thigh. "Just so you know, I'm having a great time."

"You were having a great time." She winced as she shifted her kneeling weight on the bed. "Serves me right for thinking I could fuck like a pornstar on the first date, huh?"

"I already came once, Morn," you reminded her. Sitting alongside her, equally naked and sweaty, there was a clarity in the air that made it effortless to speak your mind. You felt bold, yet comfortable. You felt like you wanted more of Morn's body. "Let me take care of you. I think I can make this work."

"Take the lead, babe," Morn relented. The way she said babe made you giddy inside, but you were focused on her now. "Just mind the leg, it still freakin' hurts."

"Morn, when I say I'm gonna take care of you, I mean it. Just lie down," you said, easing her onto her back. With the positions reversed, you had a moment to look her up and down. Laid bare before you and anticipating your next move, the sight of her awoke something within you. Something that told you not to hold back.

You practically pounced atop her, squarely laying yourself on her body. She met you with a kiss that you eagerly returned. You channeled all your built-up desire to please her into that kiss, at the same time aligning your mound with hers. It took a few tries, but eventually, you found the angle where your clit could meet hers without requiring pornstar-style flexibility. Pleasure jolted through both of you and she broke the kiss to gasp.

"Told you I could make it work," you grinned, focusing now on the movement of your hips. You started slowly at first as to not tire yourself out but quickly increased the pace as the coiling warmth inside you grew. Instead of kissing her, you buried your face in her shoulder so you could hear her sing. With every roll of your hips she moaned, louder and louder as you humped her harder and harder.

"Oh, god, babe," Morn panted. You could feel her frenzied breath on your neck as she cried out. You could feel your own orgasm building but all you cared about was her.

"Tell me how you feel," you commanded, maintaining your hips' pace. "I want you to come so bad."

"Keep going," Morn grunted. "I'm close, I'm so fucking close!"

You furthered your efforts, grinding your desperate nub into hers with vigor. You panted as you began to feel tingles in your extremities and your breath became impossibly tight. Morn matched your desperation, her hips weakly pushing upwards so that her mound would meet yours sooner. Just a little more! More! You shouted to yourself mentally as Morn's hands squeezed your waist to signal her impending orgasm.

You frantically let go of her body with one hand, giving up precious leverage in order to make sure Morn couldn't escape the pleasure you were giving her. There was nothing you wanted more than to reach the peak together. You gently caught her pearl between your fingers and rolled it as you ground into her, drawing out deep moans from her. She spasmed in your grasp, gasping in time with your own pleased sighs.

"Oh god!" She cried out, throwing her head back into the piled-up blankets. Her whole body tensed and you could feel each of her rippling muscles press against you in a desperate bid to ride out her orgasm. You followed soon after, the air forced from your lungs as an explosion of tingling warmth knocked the wind out of you. All you could do was cry out with her and press your nub into hers where your hand was still at work. You rubbed and rolled, trying your best to prolong the mutual climax before finally catching your breath and collapsing into Morn's tired embrace.

With your body limp and your face buried in her neck, you could feel her breasts rise and fall with each breath. You held each other loosely for a moment, just listening to her breathe. After only a few heartbeats, she started giggling.

"What's so funny?" you asked, lifting your heavy head to look at her.

"Nothing," she stifled her giggles, a tear rolling down her cheek. "That was just really, really good."

"Are you crying?" You asked, concerned but secretly proud of your handiwork.

"No, I'm not crying. I'm tearing up, there's a difference," she chuckled. "Thank you."

"Thank you. You're the one that started it," you cooed, stroking her hair. "plus, you ate me out first so I think I owe you."

"It's on the house," Morn sighed contently. "But you're still on me... could you roll over, please?"

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly shifted your weight off of her and onto the mattress.

"Don't worry about it, I just figured the bed was softer than me." She chuckled again.

You said nothing, instead opting to resume your embrace with her from the side. She reciprocated, rolling over so she could be the big spoon. She wrapped her arms around you snugly.

"Ah, shit," Morn cursed under her breath.

"What? What's wrong?" You craned your neck a bit to see her golden eyes in your periphery.

"Our food is definitely cold by now," she grumbled, "and I don't have a microwave."

“I’ve got snacks in my bag.” You replied.

Morn readied a compliment, but delayed when both your phones buzzed. THA HOOLIGANZ had something to say.

“What is it now?” Morn rolled over and grabbed her phone, reading the messages as they rolled in. You did the same.

“What the…?”

Lash: did you two kiss yet???

Dera: they did more than that 😳😳😳

Morn shot you a look of disbelief before tapping away frantically.

Morn: wtf are you guys talking about?

You: ^

Lash: the crepe date! u two are dating now right?

You: what do u mean crepe date? the breakfast u failed to show up to u mean??

Lash: lol, relax. we just thought you two needed some time alone. for the record, i was actually hung over. me and dera just agreed you two needed to talk it out

Dera: seriously, u look at Morn the way she looks at crepes, and she looks at u the way Lash looks at literally anyone

Lash: or the way u look at dudes bulges

Dera: shut up

“I…” Morn began, jaw agape. “I don’t know if I should be mad or amazed. I’m both.”

“They set us up like lonely freshmen.” You shook your head, chuckling.

Lash: u two are dating now right???

Morn: yes dumbass

You: can confirm

Lash: CUTEEEEE

Dera: morn fucks on the first date. respect.

You: wait how- what?

Dera: ur in Morn’s dorm right

Your texting was interrupted by three solid thumps coming through the wall.

Dera: i’m right next door and these dorms are made of fucking paper

Morn: hey, i’ve dealt with hearing every single time you slept with some guy. fair is fair

Dera: no judgment from me!

Lash: suddenly i’m glad i still live with my parents…

You put your phone down as you really didn’t have much to say. Morn gave up on it as well, your phones resting together on the floor. She resumed spooning you and a moment later, you felt her chest start to heave with laughter; a hearty laugh loud enough for Dera to hear through the walls. You joined her, laughing until your diaphragm ached. The whole situation, the realization that Dera and Lash knew before either of you did and that they had a master plan… utterly ridiculous. It was like something out of a movie, yet with your arms wrapped around one of Morn’s, completely real. You feared this was all a dream, and as soon as you succumbed to sleep in Morn’s cozy twin bed, it would dissolve.

Morn could tell sleep started to take you.

“I love you,” she whispered into your ear. She squeezed you tight. You had never been more sure of anything in your life that Morn would still be cuddling you when you woke up.

#exophilia #monster x reader #monster x human #romance #female reader #orc #female orc x female reader #monster love #wlw #monster romance #monster fic #wlw romance #orc girlfriend #friends to lovers #monster girlfriend

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shespeaksinsongs · 3 years ago

Text

Private Spanish Lessons | Fred x Reader

A/N: I can literally only wish for this. My writing is turning me into a Fred girl, low-key. Enjoy! <3

Summary: Fred gets frustrated while trying to learn Spanish to impress his girlfriend Y/N's parents.

Warnings/content: Fluff and kissing <3 Spanish phrases, Fem!Reader

Word count: 882 words

masterlist | request form | hhm celebration schedule

"Okay," Y/N giggled as her boyfriend tickled her sides so she'd lean into him more. "Freddie, stop!" Y/N laughed, whispering a faint "I can't breathe," her smile as wide as his. Fred retracted his long arms to his sides, bending down to give Y/N a sweet kiss on the forehead. "Thank you." Y/N smiled.

Fred nodded promptly. "You were saying, my dear?"

"I was saying, translate this sentence into English. And don't forget the j's sound like h's." Y/N warned, holding up a whiteboard she'd hastily written on.

Y/N had been trying to teach Fred Spanish for the past few days, seeing as he would be meeting Y/N's Spanish-speaking parents the following week. Although it didn't really matter to Y/N's parents if her boyfriend spoke Spanish or not, Y/N thought it would be a nice gesture, and Fred was willing to learn.

Yo tengo el mejor novio del mundo. It read, which translated to, "I have the best boyfriend in the world."

Fred took a moment, stroking Y/N's arms, resting his chin on the crown of her head. "Well, I know what that means." Fred said, pointing to the word novio, adorned with black lead hearts around it, courtesy of his girlfriend.

"And what does it say?" Y/N smirked, turning herself around to look in the redhead's light brown eyes.

"Boyfriend." Fred rolled his eyes playfully, laughing at the pleased look on his girlfriend's face.

"Yep, good job, baby." Y/N said, cupping his face with both hands to press a sweet and gentle kiss on Fred's lips.

He smiled as Y/N turned back to look at the whiteboard, waiting patiently for Fred to get the rest of the sentence so he could earn his reward. A few seconds passed, and Fred huffed a sign of annoyance.

"Are you stuck, cariño?" Y/N asked, twiddling with Fred's fingers that softly rested on her tummy.

"Yeah." Fred said, his voice a little deeper, expressing frustration. "What does this word mean?" He pointed at another word that he was sure he and Y/N hadn't gone over - mundo.

"It means world." Y/N answered, enjoying the safety of Fred's long legs around her body.

"Ah, so let me take a guess at what the sentence means." Fred said, his tone more lively now. Y/N turned around to look at her handsome boyfriend, not expecting the smug grin he wore on his face. "It means I'm your world."

Y/N laughed, squinting her fingers to show how close he was. "Almost, baby." She said, watching his pretty face fall to a frown. "It's okay, we can try again. You're going to get this, I promise." Y/N comforted her boyfriend, shifting, so her head was lying on his lower abdomen. Her arms were tightly wrapped around his waist.

"No, I won't, Y/N/N. We've been studying for days, and I can't remember anything." Fred said sadly. "Why don't you just give up on me? Will it matter much to your parents if I don't-"

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence." Y/N brought a finger to Fred's lips to silence him. "My parents will love you either way. I'll love you either way." Y/N said, making Fred smile preciously as Y/N played with the bangs growing around his forehead. Y/N made a mental note to take him to get a haircut before he met the parents. "But connecting through Spanish… is so beautiful to me." She laced her fingers with her boyfriend's. "How about we just try for one more hour, and if you don't get it by then, we can move on and go buy some ice cream and catch a movie at Hogsmeade or something?" Y/N beamed, her eyes hopeful.

"Okay." Fred smiled. "For you." His lips kissed the tip of Y/N's nose, her favorite type of kisses from him.

Y/N turned back around. "So, which words do you know here?" Y/N asked, her voice as delicate as possible.

"Hm." Fred took a moment to think, not letting his frustration resurface again. "Well, I know boyfriend, world, and best."

Y/N nodded, feeling her heart swell with pride. "That's right, mi vida. Do you want me to help you out a little more, or do you wanna try to get this one on your own?"

"No, I got this one." Fred said, stroking Y/N's hair. "I… have the best boyfriend… in the world?" Fred guessed, not even really realizing what he said.

Y/N turned around, grinning happily. "Yes, I do." She said, turning her body to sit on her boyfriend's waist, positioned to face his face.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm amazing; But I do believe I haven't been given my prize yet..." Fred joked, his eyes shining bright. He strung some giggles from Y/N, who leaned in to press several kisses around his face, teasing him before she finally kissed his lips. Y/N felt Fred's smile through the kiss, bringing her arms up to lock them around his neck. Fred gently pushed Y/N's head down to his chest, letting her rest her mind.

"Mi corazón." Y/N whispered, pressing another kiss to his ear.

"Mi bebé." Fred replied sleepily, feeling his eyelids droop down. Y/N smiled to herself at the knowledge that she had never taught Fred that word, which meant that he'd been learning Spanish all on his own.

#fred weasley #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred fanfiction #fred x y/n #fred blurb #fred weasley blurb #fred fluff #fred weasley one shot #fred one shot #hlbutterflyoriginal

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anarmorofwords · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! You're probably not going to like this ask, but before getting into it I'd just like to say that this isn't meant as Kamala hate or anything, and I don't really want to offend.

Having said that, wouldn't it make sense that we get to see how Kamala treated Anna after she came out? It's in all likelihood one of the things that's weighing on Anna the most.

Obviously Kamala had her valid reasons: her parents aren't as liberal as the Lightwoods, she believes (knows?) their love is conditional as she's adopted, she's not white and not being heterosexual could further any treatment she's suffered from being different... Her reasons have already been listed multiple times by multiple people. Kamala has the right to stay in the closet and fear coming out. And while that shouldn't be villianised, we can't forget that closeted people can harm those around them.

If Kamala had kept treating Anna like a good friend, rumour would've sparked, and even if it was denied, she'd have been harmed by merely associating with Anna. Especially with the life Anna began leading; she could have been labelled as one of Anna's 'conquests' by the Clave. That, as we've established, is detrimental for her safety.

But at the same time, it would create a breach between Anna and Kamala. And Anna had the right to be hurt by it and weary of it when Kamala said she wanted a relationship.

If we look at it from that perspective, Anna's actions (though inexcusable in how they treated Kamala --who was also at fault for not accepting a negative for four months) make sense. Kamala wasn't only a fling of a week*, but also the girl she lost her virginity with, who asked her to be her secret (until she married Charles, after which Anna's affections would be discarded), who hid her sexuality for two years and sat back while Anna suffered from homophobic commentary, and who now wants a relationship hidden from most of the people that know her.

Kamala shouldn't be forced to come out; but the harm that can do to the women she may engage with is reflective of what happens nowadays. I can mostly think of examples with gay men, so my apologies in advance. But how many women have seen their marriages ruined by their husband having affairs with men?

Creating characters that reflect a toxic part of the 'hidden' LGBT community shouldn't be seen as hating or villinifying. Thomas isn't out and he isn't labelled a villain by the narrative --because his actions don't harm anyone. The hate Alastair gets in-universe is because of his past as a bully, not because he's gay. Matthew's not fully out and he isn't villianised --like Thomas, because the decisions he makes to keep his sexuality hidden don't impact anyone negatively.

I'll even go as far as saying that not even the narrative villianises characters like Kamala and Charles. If it were, they'd be seen more like Grace in Chain of Gold. We'd see how Kamala's actions are affecting Anna's in more ways than anger (that in itself put the fandom against Anna), and the characters would note so. We wouldn't see scenes were Cordelia empathised with Charles, nor Matthew said he loved him.

Be it as it may, Kamala and Charles represent ugly parts of being closeted that can naturally occur when someone is in their position. LGBT people are human. Humans, when put into very difficult situations (and Charles risks his career; Kamala her safety), can make decisions that harm those around them. Consequently, the people they're harming have a right to feel, well, harmed in whatever range of ways --this goes mostly for Alastair, and very partly for Anna, whose treatment of Kamala was horrible.

Readers need to understand what is pushing these 'villianised' characters to harm (again, mostly for Alastair) the more prominent characters and go beyond how they are instantly depicted. Because these are complex characters based on complex real people influenced by very ugly realities we will move on from someday, but sadly not yet.

By the way, Charles and Kamala's situations aren't that similar beyond the closeted thing, but I crammed them together because of a post I saw you reblog.

Please understand I'm not justifying Charles's actions; that I understand the pain he's put Alastair through, and know that he shouldn't ever be near Alastair. Nor am I trying to justify Anna's actions nor hate on Kamala.

I'll just finish my pointless rant by adding that I do think cc has sensitivity readers. I think she asked a gay man to go through tec (I don't know if he still revised her other books, though), and know she asked POC's input when writing someone for their culture. I don't know much beyond that, but I doubt who revises her stuff is up to her. Wouldn't that be something the publisher is responsible for (honest question)?

*I've also noticed people using the argument that they didn't know each other long enough for Anna to harbour such ugly emotions towards Kamala, but Kamala also remembered Anna pretty deeply and is 'in love' with her. I just wanted to say that considering cc writes (fantastical) romance where someone can ask a woman they met two months ago marriage, stressing over time spaces doesn't make much sense. Just my take.

hi!!

alright, where do I start? probably would be best with stating that while I can analyse Kamala's situation with what I know/see/read about racism and discrimination and reasonably apply things I've read/heard from PoC to the discussion, as well as try to be as sensitive about it as possible, I'm still a white woman, so not a person that's best qualified to talk about this.

that being said - if someone wants to add something to this conversation, you're obviously more than welcome to, and if there's something in my answer that you don't agree with or find in some way insensitive or offensive - please don't hesitate to call me out on that.

back to your points though: (this turned into a whole ass essay, so under the cut)

I don't think Anna shouldn't be able to reminiscent on Kamala's behaviour/reaction to her coming out, or be hurt by it. what bothers me is the way CC talks about it - I can't remember the exact phrasing, but the post where she mentioned this suggested something along the lines of "you'll see how Kamala sided with the Clave and didn't defend Anna after her coming out", therefore putting the blame on Kamala and completely disregarding the fact that Kamala wasn't in position to do much at all. It suggest that their situation was "poor Anna being mistreated by Kamala". therefore I'm afraid Kamanna's main problem/conflict will remain to be portrayed as "Anna having to allow themselves to love again and forgive Kamala", while Anna's shortcomings - and Kamala's vulnerable position - are never discussed. I think it would be possible to acknowledge both Kamala's difficult situation and the possible hurt her behaviour caused Anna without being insensitive towards Kamala's character, but it would take a really skilled - and caring - author to do both of the perspectives justice. CC would have to find a balance between being aware of the racism/prejudice Kamala faced/ writing her with lots of awareness and empathy, and still allowing her to make mistakes and acknowledging them. As it is however, I'm under impression that she's just treating it as a plot device, a relationship drama.

I'd say no one expects characters of color to be written as flawless or never making mistakes, it's mostly the way these mistakes are written and what things these characters are judged/shamed/

And that's - at least in my understanding and opinion - where the problem is. it's that the narrative never even addresses Anna's faults, and portrays Kamala as the one that caused all - or most of - the pain, without ever even acknowledging her problems and background.

White characters in TLH make mistakes and fuck up - because they're human and they're absolutely allowed to - but the thing is, non-white characters aren't afforded that privilege. Anna's behaviour is never questioned - none of it, shaming Kamala for not being able to come out, dismissing her desire to be a mother, or any of the questionable things she did in ChoI. Same with Matthew, James, Thomas. Alastair and Kamala however? they're constantly viewed through their past mistakes, and forced to apologize for them over and over, forced to almost beg for forgiveness. Moreover, those past mistakes are used as a justification of all and any shitty behaviour the other characters exhibit towards them now, which is simply unfair and cruel. They're held to a much higher standard.

So I'd like to say that yes, Kamala was in the wrong to keep nagging Anna after numerous rejections, and she was in the wrong to not inform Anna about Charles prior to them having sex - but that doesn't give Anna a free pass to constantly mistreat Kamala. And let's be real, Anna isn't stupid - while at 17 she could be naive and uninformed, I can't imagine how after years of hanging out with the Downworlders and numerous affairs and being out and judged by the Clave she's still so ignorant about Kamala's situation. I definitely think she's allowed to be hurt, but to still not understand why Kamala did what she did? Anna isn't blaming her for not telling her about Charles earlier - which would be fair - but instead for refusing to engage in an outright romance with her. She's being ignorant - and consciously so, I think.

Overall, I think you're definitely right about how coming out - or staying closeted - can be messy and hurt people in the process, especially in unaccepting environments/time periods, and I've seen enough discourse online to know there will never be a verdict/stance on this that will satisfy everyone. I, for one, would really like to refrain from putting all the blame on a single person - but, at least the way I see it, CC is pointing fingers. maybe not directly, but she is. Kamala, Alastair and Charles have no friends or support systems, and the only people in the narrative that defend them are themselves (ok, Cordelia does defend Alastair from Charles, but not from shitty takes about him and his "sins"). Also, sorry, but I don't like how you say "hid her sexuality for two years and sat back while Anna experienced homophobic comments" - it sounds very much judgemental. Kamala had every right to do that? The fact that she slept with Anna doesn't means she owed her something, and certainly not coming out and most probably destroying her life, or even defending her at the - again - expense of her own reputation, or more possibly safety.

As for Charles - it's a different issue here, at least imo - I fear that it'll be implied that his refusing to come out will is his main "sin", and therefore not something he can be judged for, which ironically, will be villainizing, but mostly will mean his actual sins are dismissed. This is where the scene with Cordelia feeling a pang of sympathy for him comes into play, and it worries me. I've never hated Charles for not wanting to come out, but rather for, let's see - grooming Alastair, disregarding Alastair's needs and feelings, disrespecting his mother, being a sexist prick, being low-key far-right coded "make Shadowhunters great again" etc.

As for sensitivity readers - I'm no expert, so I don't think my input is worth much. From what I've gathered from multiple threads/discussions on twitter, tho it is probably consulted/approved by the publisher, many authors push for that - and authors less famous and "powerful" than her. I'm not a hater, but seeing fandoms' opinions on much of her rep, I think she could do better. Because if she does have sensitivity readers, then they don't seem to be doing a great job - maybe they're friends who don't wanna hurt her feelings? Or maybe she thinks a gay guy's feedback will be enough for any queer content - which, judging by the opinions I've seen from the fans, doesn't seem to be true.

Again, these are mostly my thoughts and I'm more than open to reading other opinions, because *sigh* I really don't know how to handle this.

Bottom line - I really really don't want to be hating on the characters in general, playing God in regards to judging the struggles of minorities, or even criticising the characters too harshly for being human, flawed etc. What my main issue is is how CC handles those complex and heavy topics.

I hope I make sense and this answer satisfies you somehow - I also hope someone better equipped to answer might wanna join this conversation.

* I desperately need a reread of TLH before I engage in any more conversations like this, but I didn't wanna leave you hanging. So yeah, I might be remembering things wrong. Again, let me know, I'm very much open to being corrected as well as to further discussion.

* I use she/her pronouns for Anna because that's what she uses in canon

#the last hours #tlh #alastair carstairs #shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles #anti charles fairchild #is this anti anna?#kamala joshi #ariadne bridgestock #chain of iron #chain of gold #spilling the tea

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paradoxesofgalaxies · 3 years ago

Text

Triggered rambles below the cut. Proceed with caution

I don't know what to do anymore. It's been nearly two weeks of my partner having a migraine. 2 weeks of him always seeming angry. 2 weeks of minimal conversations. Of him just not responding/not hearing me.

And I'm cracking. I've been trying so hard to hold it together. As trigger after trigger comes up, I've been pushing through alone so as to not make things worse him.

And over the past few days the cracks have begun to show. I'm breaking down over little things. I've cried so many times this weekend.

And then as we were cuddling him before bed, he started talking about how recently our tolerance for things has been poor and we need to work on it (not phrased like that but my brain is fuzzy right now) and I just can't anymore.

I have parts just repeating how they want to die. Others panicked that we've upset him or that we've failed him. And just so much more swirling about. I'm fighting to not break down sobbing yet again. Or to at least be silent about it to not wake anyone up.

I've been trying so hard to make things easier for him as he's struggled with this migraine while working. And it feels like i was just told that it's not enough. Too many cracks have shown.

........

I've calmed down now. I went and did dishes through streaming tears until they finally ran out. I'm back to feeling hollowed out.

I can't really remember what my partner said that sparked this all but I know it was said more gently than it was perceived by whoever wrote the first part of this. I was tempted to just delete all of this but I won't do that to the one was writing. And i think there's some important threads in this for me to untangle later.

#galactic gab #vent tw

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morgana-ren · 4 years ago

Note

I noticed youd said that you get more shiggy requests. So, if you'll indulge me for a sec.

We've had gatos input on how strade would be if the roles were reversed. Mc somehow had him under their control with the shock collar on.

I want your input because your writing is so detailed i know id enjoy reading what a submissive little bitch he'd become.

Please and thank you Morgana.

ily :3

Oh OH You know me so well! This is one of my favorite things to daydream about when I get angry or annoyed because since Strade is such a garbage human being, it tickles me so much to think about how cathartic it would be to turn the tables.

So as well all know, Strade, while very experienced, is not the brightest bulb in the box. He’s got years of know-how behind his expertise in kidnapping and torture, but there’s some shit that just kind of evades him sometimes. Double checking your ropes after he gets a little too excited and wants a dirty basement floor romp, for example. Thanks to his overexcitement and shit-idiot brain fungus he’s got going on, it’s entirely possible for you to slip your bonds. This mistake, in canon, costs him his life.

But what if MC wasn’t so kind?

With a level head, you might be able to scrounge around his torture room for a little bit. Maybe he has a needle with some knockout liquid hanging around for “difficult” catches. Maybe you just wait around behind the door until he walks in and smash him on the head as hard as you can and knock his ass out. Either way, he’s got plenty of restraints, and now he’s the one cuffed to a rusty pole. The look on his dumb face when he comes to is priceless.

You’re not making the same mistakes he did. He’s triple tied to that thing. You know he’s strong, and you’re playing on his home field. You’ve got to be prepared for everything. At least long enough to get upstairs and find help or call the police. Right? Right?

But what if you don’t?

What if, after he comes to and is sputtering and howling and hissing things at you in German that would make Lindemann blush, you decide not to go for help? He’s mad. He’s oh so very mad. He does not like this, not one bit. But he’s panicking beyond what you’d expect, even for a serial killer who’s been two-timed by his own victim. There’s something else in those dilated eyes. Something you’ve become very acutely familiar with over the last few days. You can still smell it lingering on you the same way it’s staining his shirt now.

Fear. He’s afraid. And not of death or capture.

I mean, he very well might be terrified of those things, but whatever it is he’s feeling right now is far overshadowing that. His face is red, and you can practically see the veins in his neck popping in rhythm with his thrumming heartbeat. He’s sweating extensively, and while that’s not uncommon for him, there’s not that macabre jolly smile plastered across his face. He’s baring his teeth and snapping at you like a feral hound, swearing to end your miserable life in a manner that would make the ghosts of his past shudder in horror for you.

You don’t put it past him to snap these ropes any second and wrap his hands so tightly around your neck that your eyes pop like overinflated balloons. Even if the cops show up and try to escort you to safety, there’s an unspoken darkness in his glare, something that promises pain in your future even if they manage to subdue him. A promise that you can’t guarantee yourself that he can’t keep.

It strikes you that you know nothing about this man.

Surely someone out there knows about this. Someone knows about him and his little hobby. Monsters run in packs and even if you can’t see them, you know they must be there. Best case scenario, they can’t have him spilling their secrets so they find a way to end his life before the police can. Worst case scenario? Worst case, they come for you.

You’ve seen enough Hollywood horror movies to know just how wrong it can go if justice is left to the authorities. You haven’t seen much of it, but this looks like a pretty nice house. If he has money, he can just buy his way out. Who is to say that he doesn’t already have a deal with the cops? Kidnapping people is risky business, especially when folks begin to notice that you’re gone. Surely he has some safety net?

What if he’s part of a network of psychopaths? There’s been enough late-night conspiracy youtube binges in your existence to know that shit like that is perfectly plausible. What if he’s just one of many? What if they have the pull to see him set free even after you’ve gone through the proper avenues to get him locked away? What if, one night, when you think he’s rotting in a 6 x 6 cement cell miles away from you, you wake up back here in this basement with even more Strades with different names and faces but each one shares the desire to see you ripped apart at the seams and devoured?

No. HELL no. You’re not going to be the cliche victim. He can bark and screech at you until his throat is sore and his gums bleed, but the plain and simple fact of the matter is that you have this monster on a leash, and you’re not about to hand that leash over to someone else.

How many people has he killed? How many have met their end in this godless basement? How many unsuspecting people has he dragged here only to take them apart piece by piece until their eyes glaze and their final breath moistens his cheek as he watches the light in their eyes extinguish? Do you even want to know? Would it make you feel better or worse to know that, at least for now, you’ve narrowly escaped such a fate?

You have to know.

His screaming turns fearful as you ascend the stairs. Again, not for fear of being caught, but because he already has been. It’s so odd to hear the phrase “Don’t leave me here!” from his quivering chest when he’s apparently in the place he values most, and there’s a sick sense of catharsis that settles in your gut as you listen to him begin to whimper and whine. You don’t let yourself dwell on it but you do slam the door behind you loudly enough that he will be forced to acknowledge that his pathetic pleas mean nothing to you.

His house is painfully average, at least for someone like him. He’s even got portraits up with what must be friends or family or someone that cares enough to pose for a cheesy photo with him. If you didn’t know better, you’d say an upstanding, if a little tacky, upper-middle class man lives here. The furniture is unremarkable and well cared for but lived in enough to not raise suspicion. His kitchen is filled with expensive appliances that might as well be fresh out of the box. His fridge, as expected, is filled with beer and various quick meals. Not much of a cook, you guess.

The car sitting in the garage costs in the six digit range and looks like it’s the most beloved thing in the entire area. It reeks of Armor All and disinfectant, and you’re willing to bet that if he was so inclined, he could put it on a showroom floor right now. He’s got tools and cables of all sorts thrown about, but not the kind you’ve gotten so used to. Maybe he actually does use them for their intended purpose sometimes.

As you walk the length of his home, you notice a distinct lack of screaming. You can’t hear anything, not even a peep from the basement, and you are very certain he’s crying up a storm down there. Interesting. He’s go this place sound proofed. You’re not sure what you’d expected, but it’s good information to have regardless.

After you’ve sated your curiosity by observing the dragon’s den, you make your way to the upper level. He’s probably not foolish enough to leave any sort of evidence behind where friends and neighbors can see it, so whatever it is you’re looking for is going to be somewhere a little bit more personal. Perhaps like a bedroom?

Bingo.

His bedroom, much like the rest of his house, looks about what you’d expect. King sized bed, wooden dresser with a TV and player on top, and a desk beneath the window. Sliding closet doors with all manner of free range dad apparel inside, and honestly, it’s the closest you’ve been to laughing since you got here. He would wear cargo shorts and plaid, wouldn’t he? A scrounge through the drawers of his dresser and closet reveal nothing remarkable, but you’re willing to bet your injured thigh that there’s something special in the desk.

Just like you’d expect, the desk is locked, but you’d noticed a pair of keys sitting willy-nilly out in the living room and you’d picked them up. About 7 key changes later and the desk pops open for you like a cheap whore. He really isn’t too bright, is he? Or maybe he just wasn’t expecting this to ever be a problem. Either way, you’re grateful he’s a moron.

Inside the drawer seems to be loads of DVDs, unmarked except for dates. It feels like you’re the unprepared cop in a serial killer movie as you look down at them. You don’t need to watch them to know what they are, but you’re going to anyway. You have to know. You need to know just who you’re dealing with here.

You pick one at random and pop it into the DVD player and the scene that greets you seems all too familiar. A hunched figure, bloodied and tied to the pole you’d become so intimate with over the last week. This person was in much worse shape than you, however. You could see shadows moving off screen and the camera fuzzes and refocuses repeatedly as what you assume is Strade messes with the controls. Not long after, he emerges, practically skipping into frame. Even though most of his face is concealed behind a hideous bandana, you can tell he’s smiling. It reaches his eyes.

He says what appears to be a rehearsed greeting and you’re left wondering just how crazy is he? Is he talking to his future self? You can see him making these videos to relive his sick, sadistic fantasies but talking to himself like an absolute lunatic is just a little disconcerting. However, you also acknowledge that the only reason you’ve even thinking about this is to distract yourself from the fact that you’re watching a homemade snuff film that you almost starred in yourself.

And then he begins.

Despite the visceral horror on display before you, the urge to vomit never comes. You watch, blank faced, as this poor soul is faced with every horror a human mind can conceive. It goes on for long. Too long. And Strade never stops talking.

The realization sets in that’s because he’s not the only one watching.

He’s not talking to himself. He’s responding. This wasn’t for him. This was for them.

If you had any emotional energy to give, surely you’d be absolutely horrified, but you don’t and you can’t. You’re not even surprised. Someone like Strade, that bubbly personality and 1,000 watt smile, of course he’d find a way to utilize his talents. He’d found a market. He had a hobby and he made money from it. ‘Love your job and you’ll never work a day in your life.’ and you are just so willing to bet he loves his fucking job.

You let the video keep playing as you sit up from his bed and leave the room. You make your way down the stairs, back to the living room, and then back to the basement door. You open it and immediately are bombarded with the sounds of his screaming and hateful vitriol. It doesn’t phase you. You’re not sure anything will ever again.

Calmly, you walk into the room and stare at him. He doesn’t cease his incessant threats until he realizes you’re waiting for him to finish so that you can speak. He finally silences himself, though he continues to rip and tear at the ropes holding him hostage as you tell him you found his little home video collection.

“Let me out.” He demands, and you realize he doesn’t quite understand that he’s not the one in control anymore. Of course a dog without a tangible leash will continue to run wild. You needed to drive the point home.

You turn your back to him and begin to ruffle through his various cabinets, searching around the nooks and crannies for something that will help him understand just what position he’s found himself in. You make a very interesting discovery next to his med kit. A collar. A literal collar.

Poetic justice.

It’s thick and burdensome and more than a little hideous. It’s definitely homemade, because not even the most fucked of BDSM sites are going to offer something like this. It’s accompanied by a small remote with a large red button and not much else. You push the button and yelp in pain, the collar clattering to the floor as it slips from your fingers. It shocked you. It was so very painful, but you’re smiling.

You retrieve it from where it fell and pop it open, observing it curiously. Strade watches you through wide eyes and sniveling, trembling lips. The look on his face is a dead giveaway that you’ve found something you really shouldn’t have. The toothy grin you flash him shows him that you understand that.

Without a word, you approach him, holding the open collar in your sweating palm. His struggles begin anew and before long he’s practically yanking his arms out at the sockets trying to get away from you and your newfound toy. He’s throwing his weight around and doing whatever he can with his limited movements to make damn sure you can’t get that terrible thing around his neck, but it’s all in vain because energy is finite and he’s been expending a lot of it over the last hour.

He’s breathing heavy and you could swear he’s begging between heaves as you clap the collar around his thick neck. His flesh bulges from the side and you’re fairly certain it was made for someone much less burly than himself in mind. You get the odd urge to adjust it on him like a necklace but he’s still dangerous, even caged. You feel weirdly... proud.

“Stop-! you don’t know what you’re doing!” He hiccups, and as he pulls his head upward, you can see he is indeed crying. “Please! Don’t!”

You’ve never thought of yourself as particularly sadistic, at least in that sense, but some ghostly force pushes your thumb down on that big red button. Watching his eyes go wide and his body convulse and seize fills you with a sense of sheer euphoria that can’t properly be conveyed. The utterly satisfying clang of his head hitting the pole at mach 5 as he shakes and bumbles almost humorously while the collar sends x amount of volts through his body makes you giggle.

When you finally pull your thumb off the button, he’s still shaking from the residual shock, drool and mucus bubbling from his mouth and nose and sloping down onto his chin. He looks defeated; utterly pathetic. Is this how you looked to him all those times he stood over you grinning as he gifted you pain the likes of which had been unthinkable to you before you met him? The desire to push down again is overwhelming but you’re determined for him to understand there’s a point to this misery.

There’s a thousand thoughts going through your mind right now faster than you can comprehend them all, but they all have the same general principal. This man is a murderer. This man is a rapist. This man is contained. This man is afraid. This man is at your mercy.

And unfortunately for him, you just ran out.

‘How many’ you ask, despite already knowing. If the videos upstairs are any indication, there’s more than he can probably count. More names and faces than he can practically remember and they’re dead because of him. He looks up at you through wet lashes with a trembling lip, already caught on to the fact that there is no correct answer. Your thumb hovers over that seductive red button and he’s quick to spit out whatever he can regardless.

“I don’t know! I don’t!”

You don’t doubt that he’s being honest, but it sickens you none he less. You press that button for half a second and he jolts up off the floor as much as his restraints will allow. When he comes to, his eyes can barely focus in on you and when his slumps over, you can see the burns from the collar already settling in on his tan skin. You’re not sure how to turn down the voltage or how lethal it is, but you don’t really care at the moment. If he dies, he dies. You’ll deal with the complications of that later.

You could sit here all day and grill him, literally and figuratively, about his track record of atrocities, but it won’t bring you any peace. You’re not sure that peace is something that you’ll ever feel again, all things considered. Meeting the monsters that dwell in the dark is drastically different than simply acknowledging that they exist, and through some twist of fate, you’ve been given the opportunity to show this particular monster that he’s no longer at the top of the food chain. There’s so much you could do, so many things you want to do, and it’s at that moment you realize you’ve spent too long staring into the abyss to try and claw your way out.

You’re being offered the chance they never were. You’re holding the controls now. He’s already crying and you’ve barely touched him, barely done anything besides shock him a little. You remember that feeling well. If you recall, you were already crying before he put that knife to your thigh on your first day with him.

Truth is, you decided the second he fell unconscious what you were going to do.

Maybe a revenge like this isn’t yours to take, but you’re taking it regardless. For yourself, and for every sorry sap that’s met their end in his cement hellhole. They died for you to have this opportunity, and you’d like to think that maybe they’re there with you in this moment. Even if you never knew them, you feel a strange kinship with them. After all, it was almost you.

He continues to babble underneath his breath, various pleas for mercy or sympathy or any form of compassion you can muster from your still aching body, and though you desperately wish you did, you can’t find any. You’re certain when you look in the mirror next, it won’t be your own eyes looking back at you anymore, but something closer to his. Maybe you did die in this basement, because whoever you were before you met him is long gone and has been replaced with something so much more empty.

You explain to him, as gently as you can, that it’s your turn now, and his resistance will only make this harder. You don’t delight in seeing him in pain (whether or not that’s a lie has yet to be determined) but it’s a necessary evil for all he’s done. You don’t believe his life is yours to take, but you’d be as terrible as him if you let him loose on the world again. You can’t trust anyone but yourself, and since this situation is so delicate, you need a bit more time to think on it.

He doesn’t seem to understand, at least until you’re binding his legs and securing his head snuggly to the pole. Maybe it’s overkill considering the man looks like he belongs in a shibari magazine right now, but there’s no precautions you can’t take. You can’t have him escaping. It’s far too soon, and you have such wonderful things planned.

Were you a kinder soul, maybe you would put him to sleep because it’s so apparent he’s terrified. Being bound like this has really brought out his inner little bitch, and the way he’s looking, he’s going to piss himself. But its a price it’s only fair that he pay, all things considered. You don’t know what time it is or even where you are, but you know you’ll return to him when you’ve been rejuvenated, eager and ready to begin on him. You’re only a few steps toward the door when he begins shouting, words barely discernible between his emphatic weeping and sobbing hiccups.

“D-don’t leave me here in the dark! Let me go, let me out! You can’t! You can’t leave me here like this!” You grin softly, turning slowly to face him, and tell him that you can and you will. You ask what he’s so afraid of, but you don’t wait to hear the answer as you step through the frame and shut the door behind you, leaving him to rot in his personal dungeon. It’s only been an hour and he’s already so pliable. You wonder what you can make him do when you really make it hurt. Psychology says it takes 7 years to brainwash someone and coerce them into absolute compliance, but you’re willing to bet you can have it done in a few months.

You already know one of his fears, and are very clearly not ashamed to exploit it. How many else does he have, you might wonder, already planning tomorrow’s festivities. Maybe you were sicker in the head than you thought. Maybe Strade just brought out the worst in you, stripped away all that made you human and left you with raw hurt and despair.

It’s tempting. To give in. To sit and massage your aching body while listening to his screams as they echo through the soundproofed basement. But you’re tired, and you haven’t slept in a bed in over a week. His looked awfully nice. Maybe after that, you’d wash the dried blood from your battered body, order some food, and appreciate the niceties that civilized life had to offer. Niceties you took for granted.

After that? Well, after that you had a new pet to train.

#snaspants #Strade #BTD #NSFT #tw torture mention #im mean just mean lmao #IM LOVE YOU GIRL!!

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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 5 years ago

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The Problem with MSM

So I honestly don't have many followers. I'm also prone to going on tangents. And most of my posts are rooted in politics. Not by choice mind you. I was not the one that decided literally everything in existence is political. I'm also not the one that created the view points that want everything to be political. TL;DR At the bottom.

To start off however, I need you to understand the process of radicalization.

Find someone who feels discontent with how a situation is, or how their life is

Tell this person that what's happening to them is not their fault

Place the blame for this person's problems on a certain group (political group, racial group, religious group, etc.)

Talk to the person like you know how they feel, "drop your guard" and tell them "problems you've had that were not your fault" blaming that same group

Show them that they are either a victim or oppressed in some way, shape, or form.

Slowly start swaying their views further to the extreme, by showing them other instances of "others who are being attacked or are victims" of said group.

Promptly but softly oppose any "differing views" with warped information or flat out lies

Get them to start going to events and taking to others that have already been radicalized

Have you and another radicalized individual, keep track of this person and say you support them and their issues

Sit back and watch

Now this is a rough lost but more or less the bare bones basics of radicalizing other people. Though in some cases it takes more steps and in some others it takes less. So what does this have to do with MSM (Mainstream Media)? Quite a few things in modern day actually.

The job of MSM is to get you information, as fast as humanly possible. This however was not the first goal priority in the past. In the past, the first priority was to cover a story as factually as the could, and look for more information keeping people constantly updated. Here we get to our first real problem for Media today. Technology. The Advent of modern technology has been both a blessing and a curse in this regard. And of course I'm talking about the internet in its current form. The internet being the very center of information distribution in 2019. And it has been for almost 12 years now.

So what did this change? Basically everything we know today. "Old wives tales" are now a Google search away. Feeling sick? WebMD says you have Cancer. Looking for the next hour story? Check CNN's Twitter account. The Internet brought us a great, many things. But it has taken away just as many. MSM has had to slowly move operations into social media in order to try and stay relevant. This because many people have unplugged, and have gone full digital. The only real exceptions being places of business. And with the world at your finger tips at the clock of a button, being factual has lost its relevance. Not to mention that as far back as 2013-2014 activists started working for MSM companies. Most notably progressive activists. This causes many problems we currently see today. Below is an example of what a headline used to look like, and what most headlines look like now:

Normal headline: Shooting in Birmingham leaves 3 dead and several injured during city wide festival.

Headline now: White, Trump supporter, Nazi, KKK, skin head, punches 2 people in hate crime.

See the difference? The first headline shows the basic facts and dives into known details during the article. Often they'd avoid opinions all together. The second one one the other hand, blatantly discloses anything that could generate clicks. Why? Because true or not, outrage sells. So over the past several years, MSM has been slowly radicalizing us. But they do this on a bipartisan level.

Are you black? The cops will kill you, and the white man is evil. Can't find a job? Racism. Are you a woman? Then you're unhappy because "rape culture". Do you regret having sex with that guy? Well guess what? He actually raped you without you realizing. Are you white? You're evil. Are you strait? You're a monster and should give all your money to gay people. Are you a man? You are responsible for every rape ever committed. You're also a pedophile and violent. Are you a strait white man? Oh boy you won the jackpot because you're basically Hitler.

See my point here? MSM spends most of it's time trying to rage bait you into clicking their articles. And in doing so we've gotten so lazy as a country that half the time, we don't even read past the headlines. And MSM knows this. They don't care if you read what they write. They are just radicalizing you so they can keep feeding you outrage. Because the more often they do it, the more often you will click it, skim all of 3 lines and then hop on Twitter and talk about how outraged you are. Sure, we are just as to blame for letting it happen to us, but most of us used to have at least some trust in the media. But after SEVERAL severely awfully false hit pieces that were headline news for almost months, many of us have started staying away from MSM.

What incidents might I be talking about?

Covington Catholic controversy (Almost every media outlet took a 7 second clip and ran with it. Turns out, there was a full 2hr video out there, and the Native American man, whom CNN interviewed, lied his ass off. Most media also chose to ignore the VERY beginning of the video which showcased a group called The Black Hebrew Israelites. These individuals, called Trump a homosexual, called the Native Americans there "Uncle Tomahawk", and said Gay people should not have rights. THESE CATHOLIC STUDENTS, were appalled by this statement. But what did we see in the media? "Racist Maga hat kid threatens and blocks the path of a Poor innocent Native American man."

Duke Lacrosse. Years after these kids were crucified by the Media and many others, the girl actually came out saying it never happened. You know who reported on this? Next to no one.

Ferguson. Now as controversial as this one is, the media took and RAN with it. What followed after the skewed coverage was a cult like gathering that led to phrases like, "hands up don't shoot" and "oink oink, bang bang". But Obama had the issue federally investigated. Both witnesses and the coroner report said basically the same thing. That he was aggressively wrestling with the cop trying to take his gun. But, it's too late. Now all cops are evil, and Democrat politicians are quoting it like it happened yesterday, and claiming the cop guilty. Why? Because MSM already got what they needed. They radicalized the individuals they wanted, people who will come back to them for, "facts".

And what does all of this boil down to? A video that made me write this out.

2 things need to be said here. 1. The "manifesto" as it were, was actually debunked to have been uploaded by the shooter, by the site admin himself. As well as several other sources. 2. If, by some chance the manifesto was real, and he had someone upload it for him, he mentions several liberal talking points, like universal basic income, saving the environment, among other left policies.

But this brings me back to both the beginning and to this story. Assuming for a moment, the manifesto was his. How did this happen? Most of you might just jump and say, "RACIST NAZIS", or something slightly more colorful. But here is the thing. MSM is partly responsible for all of this. Assuming the conspiracy that the CIA or FBI is responsible is false, I agree with the YouTuber in the picture. I believe that if you belittle and berate someone enough over time, you can cause them to do extreme things. I mean look at this site. Look at Twitter. Look at MSM. "White people bad", "white people are evil" "K*LL all whites" "white privilege", "fuck men", "male tears", "man spreading", "mansplaining", "Yes all men". All of this. This is popular. This is a trend. And it's unacceptable. Because frankly, it's basically bullying someone into a corner. Personally? I've been told by a few companies that are scared of social justice warriors and the online hate mob, that their company is actively not hiring white individuals. And I wish, REALLY WISH, I was making that up.

Is it any wonder, that people who go to the internet as an escape end up in a low point in their lives and then decide to do something awful? And it's the same with school shootings too. The news puts out, the name, ethnicity, how tall they are, and their entire life story, for weeks at a time. And now for much longer, because they support the desire to ban guns. So they need these things to happen more often. So the glorify the shooter, and keep talking about him/them for months. But here is where the story gets fun.

Columbine's shooting, was actually supposed to be a bombing. The kids who did it? Not the "school losers" the media talked about. The trench coat club? They were not even apart of it. More info on that here. As well as other places on Google.

youtube

More or less This video covers what the media got wrong in their rush to cover everything. What they did not intend on, was making these two boys heros to those bullied in school. Mostly boys, who are torn down and told they aren't enough, that they don't matter, they are isolated, bullied, harassed. So they look for someone who stood up to their bullies. What they were given, was a sociopath who manipulated a suicidal boy into helping him commit mass murder. Almost all of MSM were quick to say they were bullied into it. What's worse however, is Parkland. The Parkland 5, (the students whom MSM propped up for months) one of them came out admitting, that she bullied the guy who shot up the school. Said he was weird and that she needed to do it. This is one of the teens the media has PROPPED UP, saying we should listen to their infinite wisdom. A girl who is probably half responsible for the shooting.

Start paying attention. Start doing research. And for the love of all that is holy, STOP BULLYING PEOPLE! I don't care what your narrative is, or what it means. IE:

White people are human

Black people are human

Hispanic people are human

Gay people are human

Strait people are human

Women are human

Men are human

Stop normalizing anything to the contrary. Because when you do, you become part of the problem.

TL;DR The media only cares about themselves and clicks. They don't care who they radicalize, so long as you keep giving them traffic. Which for them is money. Do your research, look into things, and don't bully people. I'm looking at you progressives.

0 notes

zaritarazi · 8 years ago

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for the things we've handed down

read it on my NEW ao3 for @oberynmartell -- Kendra has her baby on the day Rip’s mother visits the Waverider, which she announces by gently clutching Rip’s desk with one hand, and her bulging stomach with the other, and softly saying, “Oh. Fuck.”

Kendra has her baby on the day Rip’s mother visits the Waverider, which she announces by gently clutching Rip’s desk with one hand, and her bulging stomach with the other, and softly saying, “Oh. Fuck.”

And perhaps, if Rip hadn’t spent the past 72 hours awake, stress-cleaning the Waverider, and perhaps if he hadn’t felt his mother was here to inspect the ship top-down, not to “Pay a simple visit, are you kidding me?” Then perhaps Rip, in all of his infinite sensitivity, would’ve said something other than, “Really, Kendra? Right now?”

To which Kendra, probably because she’s, well, about to give birth, barely manages to scrape together a fairly nasty look before saying, “Wow.”

And Rip has a retort planned, he does, because even the birth of a child is no reason to abandon Sheer Wit- But he is quickly drowned out by Ray, screaming, screaming so, so loudly, “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD. NOBODY PANIC, I PREPARED FOR THIS.”

Rip has never felt more acutely like panicking in his life. Well. Has never felt more acutely like panicking in, say- The past hour, or so.

“I think,” Kendra says, still in that gentle, strained voice. “That I should get to the medbay.”

And Carter is, really, truly, seriously about to just lift her and carry her there, bridal-style, though that’s no different than Carter any other time, regardless of how in labor Kendra is, but it’s Mother that stops him with the wave of her hand, crosses her arms, and says, “Your office is a far better place to have a baby.”

“Mother,” Rip says. “You really shouldn’t have to see this- Well Kendra is so shy, you know-“ He ignores that look, not just from Kendra but from every single other person on the ship and God, probably. “You shouldn’t have to see her have a baby, it’s really going to be a nightmare, truly-“

“Michael,” his mother says, with that crispness that leaves no room for a discussion. “I have been a midwife for literal centuries. You’re lucky I’m on board today, with your attitude.”

If Rip could die on the spot, he would. Let the newborn baby lead the timeship. Really.

“Your office is cozy and nicely lit and warm,” his mother continues, ignoring the glower Rip has taken on. “Much nicer place to have a baby than your cold little medbay, Michael.”

“But-“ And if he wasn’t so English, he’d probably stomp his foot in protest. “It’s my office.”

“Michael,” she says.

“Right, right,” he mumbles. “Lay on the carpet, Kendra. Let’s have ourselves a baby.”

Kendra lets Ray help her onto the ground, first onto her knees, then gently laying her on her back. “Who is the ours, here, Rip?” Kendra asks, resting her feet on the floor. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s water broke in her pants.”

“And you’re getting it on the carpet,” Rip says, like he’ll die from the shock of it. “I mean. Mother. If you could please talk us all through the procedure.”

“Of course,” she says, folding her hands over her stomach. “One or two of you should go get blankets- A good deal of them. One to wrap the baby in, as well. And have the fabricator make something to cover her- Any kind of hospital gown should do.”

Jax, who is still young enough to bear the emotional scars of watching a woman give birth on an 80s VHS tape in ninth grade biology, quickly says, “On it,” before bolting towards the fabricator. Fast walking. His knee didn’t allow for much bolting, but the spirit of it was there.

“And- Miss Saunders, correct?” Mother says.

“Mrs. Saunders-Palmer-Hall,” Ray says, helpfully.

“Lance,” Sara adds.

“Lance,” Ray repeats.

“Yes,” Mother says, not even bothering to flare her nostrils. “If you could roll down your trousers- Though I assume you’ll want to leave your pants on until the blankets come.”

“Um-“ Kendra sort of uselessly lifts her feet, trying to reach for her shoes.

“Right,” Carter says, dropping to the floor beside her. “Right. Sorry, princess. I was- I was caught up in a memory. You know how it goes.”

Kendra lets Sara push the hair off her forehead, wiggling her toes as Carter pulls off her boot. “What memory?”

“The first time we did this,” he says. “When you had Aldus.”

For a moment, there is silence. And Kendra says. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought- I’m trying to-“

“Let’s not make this weirder than it already is,” Len says, leaning in the doorway. “Focus on this baby first, birdbrain.”

“Yeah, so,” Kendra says. “Are uh- Are you all just gonna stand there and watch, or-“

“I was there when Lily was born,” Dr. Stein says. “I thought my services would be needed.”

“You literally got your memories of Lily like, two weeks ago,” Sara says.

“And it’s a good thing I did, Sara,” Dr. Stein adds. “Because now I’m here to help Kendra. Is she breathing properly?”

“Oh my God,” Ray says. “What happens if she breathes wrong?”

“Well, that’s one of you,” Kendra says. “But um- do the rest of you- I mean-“

“I feel like it’s weird to leave if everyone else is staying,” Nate says. “You know?”

“Why don’t I-“ Amaya watches the scene for another moment, then licks her lips. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Thank you,” Kendra says. “I love you.”

And she can feel Amaya grinning, though she’s out of sight.

“Miss Saunders,” Mother offers, moving beside her in Rip’s office. “While I expected something a bit… unorthodox from this team, I do want to forewarn you that when you give birth, you’re going to, well. It can get a bit messy.”

“I’ve eaten her ass,” Mick says. “We’re all friends here.”

“Mick!” Rip shrieks. “In front of my Mother?”

“It’s fine,” Kendra says. “Whatever. They’ve all seen my vagina.”

There’s a murmur of agreement among the group.

“We have,” Sara tells Rip’s mother, and Rip tries very hard to will himself into the void of space.

“I’m the one that did it, though,” Ray says. “I mean- It’s- That’s my baby, in there. I did that.”

“So really, she should be able to walk out of Kendra any minute now,” Len says.

Mother turns her head to look at him, raising a single eyebrow.

“Because he’s got a huge prick,” Mick says.

“Enormous,” Len adds.

“Like, scary big,” Sara says.

“Divine, really,” Carter says.

“It’s THE BEST, OKAY,” Nate says, and only then does Ray flush red.

“This is great,” Kendra says. “This is exactly how I pictured this going.”

“Really?” Sara says.

“I mean, Rip’s mom wasn’t here, but otherwise yeah, pretty much,” Kendra says. “I’m glad you are here, though. Ma’am. It’s nice to have a calm head.”

“I am PERFECTLY calm,” Rip says.

“Don’t throw up until I start crowning, okay?” Kendra says.

“KENDRA.”

“Kendra what,” Amaya says, returning with a glass of water. She joins the group of four already huddled over Kendra, handing her a glass of water.

“Kendra said crowning,” Rip says. “In front of my mother.”

Amaya looks up at him. “The mother that’s right here, helping Kendra give birth?”

“Oh, Michael’s gotten more squeamish as he’s gotten older,” his Mother says. “He’s too English, really.”

“That’s true,” Sara says. “She’s right about that.”

“Ray,” Amaya says, gently lifting Kendra’s head to help her drink. “You’re crying.”

He touches his face. “Am I?”

Kendra slowly guides her hand to cover his, to thumb at the tears spilling down his cheeks. “Ray.”

“I’m happy,” he says. “I’m so- I’m so excited. And I’m just- I don’t think I have words to describe it, Kendra.”

“I love you,” she says, softly.

“I love you too, princess,” he says, taking her hand.

“Oh-“ Kendra wiggles her fingers. “I’d say maybe don’t do that. Hawkstrength. May break your hand.

“Right,” Ray says, moving his hand to her collarbone. “Amaya?”

“Here,” Amaya says, taking Kendra’s hand.

Carter takes her other one and the wordless knowledge of his presence is more than enough.

“Blankets,” Jax says, muffled by what Kendra assumes is more blankets than anyone should carry. “I’ve got blankets.”

“Holy shit, kid,” Mick says, and that starts the shuffling flurry of blankets, and Carter does get to lift her, like he wanted, and she’s pretty sure they’ve made a mattress of blankets by the time they lay her down.

“Aw,” Kendra says. “You got me a pillow.”

“Yeah,” Jax says. “Yeah, of course.”

“You know you don’t have to stay,” Kendra says. “This is… a birth, I mean.”

“Oh, thank God,” Jax says.

“Yep,” Rip says. “Kitchen, Jefferson?”

“Yeah,” Jax says. “Come get us when she’s out!”

“We will!” Sara calls. “God. What babies.”

“Phrasing?” Kendra says.

“Sh,” Sara says. “Lie back and think of Ray’s penis.”

—

Rip, always one for timing and gentle statements, greets Kendra and her newborn baby by saying, “Well. You did it.”

Kendra grins, and he thinks her daughter mirrors it for a moment, even if it’s only by accident. “Yeah,” Kendra says. “It was… interesting.”

“7 out of 10,” Len says.

“How many births have you witnessed?” Sara asks.

“Two,” Len says. “This, and my sister.”

“Well I think it was a 10 out of 10,” Ray says. “Because she’s perfect, and Kendra is perfect.”

“Honestly?” Kendra says. “Like, 2 out of 10, would not recommend for a funtime activity,” Kendra says, rocking the baby in her arms. “Not looking forward to doing it again, but-“ She shrugs.

“Let’s raise this one, shall we?” Rip says. “Before you go having more of them.”

“Oh,” Carter says. “But I’m on the schedule.”

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” Rip says. “And I don’t want to know, because it will just upset me.”

“Let’s all just,” Kendra looks to Carter, something quiet and only known to the two of them. “Let’s just all keep the shenanigans to a light level, right now.”

“Please,” Mother says, still calm and collected. Not a hair out of place. “I’d hate to lock the lot of you in the brig so the baby could sleep.”

“Would you hate that, Mother?” Rip asks.

She gives him a flitting, wry grin, and for a moment he feels terribly homesick, but swallows it. “Of course not, Michael.”

“Ray,” Kendra says. “Would you like to hold her?”

And Ray, who Rip assumes has not stopped crying, who is crying right now, softly, says, “I- Are you sure I should hold her already? She’s so small.”

And in the silence of it, Kendra looks up at him, propped up on blankets and pillows and covered in sweat. “Don’t you want to hold her?”

“Of course,” Ray says. “Just don’t want to- I don’t know. I don’t hold a lot of babies.”

“I do,” Dr. Stein says. “I would, for one, love to hold her.”

“Before Martin runs off with the infant,” Sara says. “Ray. It’s okay.”

Kendra nods in agreement. “How big did you think she’d be, Ray?”

“I-“ Ray wipes his cheek on the back of his hand. “I don’t know.”

“She has your eyes,” Amaya says. “Look!”

“She has Kendra’s face,” Ray says.

“She’s a newborn, honey,” Kendra says.

Ray holds out his arms. Rip thinks he must’ve been kneeling this entire time, that at this point, his back is probably killing him. Rip also doubts Ray notices at all. Wonders if Ray will care about himself ever again, and thinks probably not. “I can just tell,” Ray says. “She looks like her mom.”

“Still Josephine?” Rip asks.

“Yeah,” Kendra says. “She’s still Josephine. Saunders. Palmer. Hall-Lance?”

“We’ll figure that out later,” Carter says, watching Ray take the little baby with a kind of unbridled fondness. “For now, Josephine Saunders.”

“Hi,” Ray says, shifting her in his arms. “Hi. Do you recognize my voice? Do I-“ He stares down at her. “Do you like me?”

“Oh my God,” Sara says. “Ray.”

“Yeah,” Mick says. “That’s about what I expected.”

“Of course she likes you,” Nate says. “Everyone likes you.”

Kendra grins, and it’s kind of sweet and kind of strained from exhaustion. “Ray,” she says. “That’s your daughter. She loves you.”

“You’re sure?” Ray says.

And the entirety of the room responds, “Yes.” Quietly, though. So not to disturb the baby.

“So,” Sara says. “We did remember to build a crib, right?”

“Oh,” Rip says. “No.”

“You heard her,” Len says. “Woman needs a crib. Chop chop.”

“I-“ Rip licks his lower lip. “I put away Jonas’ old crib somewhere on here. When it was- All of us, I mean. What used to be all of us.”

Kendra tilts her head, a sort of quiet common ground blooming between them. “You don’t have to find it.”

“I want to,” Rip says. And Josephine is small, small as Ray said she is, dwarfed by his huge body as he holds her. “She- She should have it.”

When he meets Kendra’s gaze, her eyes are wet. “Thank you,” she says. “For- Everything. I mean.”

He wrings his hands together. “Before I do,” he says. “Could I- Hold her?”

“Hold her,” Jax says. “I’ll go look.”

“Aw,” Kendra says. “You don’t want to hold a baby?”

“I’m good,” Jax teases, and she grins.

Rip settles on the floor beside Ray, taking Josie into his arms. He’d forgotten how light babies were, how little mass she carried in her tiny body. “Oh,” he says, staring into her big, brown eyes. “Hello, Josie.” She stares. He stares back. “Very um. Nice to meet you.”

“Always a natural with children, Michael,” his mother says. “Just like I said you’d be the first time.”

And for some reason that makes him feel like smiling, closed mouthed and throat tight. “Thank you, Mother.”

“She likes you,” Sara says. “See? She thinks you’re warm.”

“Well,” Rip says. “Thank you, Josie.”

She blinks up at him, and he calls it understanding, though he knows she’s far too new for that.

“She is beautiful, Kendra,” Rip says. “Really. I mean it.”

“Beautiful enough to make up for having her in your office?” Kendra teases.

Rip looks down at the baby, and nods. Mostly to himself. “Yes,” Rip says. “She absolutely is.”

#lot fic #atomic hawk #legends of tomorrow #atomic hawk fic #lotfic #userjamesolsen #plinys #icedvulpix #wayneskent #this is really an everyone/everyone fic #but it's kendra and ray's baby so they're the listed ship #but it's really kendra/all and all/all #my fanfiction #babyfic!

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