#I think I like accidentally deleted the first one instead of a reblog of it lmao fuck me

[starsarefire824]

We're Friends, We're Friends...

*I accidentally deleted this post while editing so please reblog if you feel like it. 😭

Chapter 10 of A Certain Slant of Light

Mike pushes the basement door open to find the upstairs of his house eerily quiet. As he pads down the hall and passes the living room he spots his Dad snoring in his chair already with the TV flashing blue light in his face. Holly is curled up in his lap and Mike's Mom is laying on her side on the opposite couch, wine glass resting full next to her on the end table. Her eyelids are heavy as she tries not to dose, and she’s holding out the clicker in the air surfing through the channels. 

“Hey honey,” she says, clearing the sleep from her throat, suddenly more awake when she observes him. 

“Hey,” he says lightly, pausing in the archway. “Have you seen Will?” 

She sits up on her elbow and squints at him. “I think he’s in the kitchen.” 

“Thanks,” he replies, turning around before she can ask him any more questions.

Mike treads heavily into the kitchen, eyes frantically scanning the room for Will. He is nowhere. The pizza box is on the counter and their trash is thrown away. 

“Will?” he says to the room. No one. 

Maybe he’s still in the bathroom.

“Will?” he calls again up the stairwell to the second floor before pulling hard on the banister and climbing the stairs two at a time. There’s still no answer and Mike sighs heavily.

It’s warmer upstairs. Nancy’s door is shut and he can hear the low bass line of whatever pop song she’s listening to. 

“Will?” he calls again. 

His room is dark. There’s definitely no one in there. He notices the hall bath door is cracked, and soft light from a nightlight his Mom had kept since he was little is glowing onto the worn tan carpet. 

He gently pushes the door open, eyes shooting towards the burgundy tile and hoping he isn’t interrupting something he shouldn’t. When the door fully opens he finds Will in the dark leaning against the porcelain sink, water running, and head bowed against his chest. His hands are gripping the edge of the sink so tightly his knuckles are white and Mike thinks that maybe Will might be sick. 

When he shoves into the room, Will startles, staring up at him with wide eyes and pulling his arms protectively over his middle. 

Mike freezes. “Hey,” he says awkwardly. 

Will’s gaze focuses on an invisible object in the corner of the room. “Hey,” he responds quietly. 

Mike tries not to shudder with how uncomfortable he feels. His cheeks relentlessly burn. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

Will shifts on his feet. “Yeah. I’m—I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” 

Mike shakes his head, confused by Will’s defensive tone. “Did I do something?” 

“No, no!” Will blurts out, hands shooting towards Mike’s chest as if he wants to comfort him, but then thinking better of it, he instead hangs his fingers heavily on his belt loop, shifting back on his heels. “I’m fine— really. I just… needed a minute.” 

The hair on the back of Mike’s neck stands on end, and his first thought is that he has missed something, that something’s terribly, terribly wrong.  “Is it Vecna ?” he asks worriedly, stepping forward. 

Will’s brows go together harshly and he somehow looks…. disappointed ? 

“No— no ,” he replies, shaking his head and raising his hands higher, defensive, suddenly almost seeming annoyed. “I’m fine. Really.” 

Mike approaches him cautiously. “Will- you are not fine. And you haven’t been for a while. I mean—sometimes I feel like—” He huffs, frustrated and feeling more hurt by the second. “---like we aren’t even friends anymore.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Will asks him, voice breaking. 

Mike’s heart is racing now and it feels as if his chest is on fire. Will backs away from him further, pushing his spine against the tiled wall where the window is. He presses his palms against the tile, as if to ground his body, and Mike imagines the rabbit again, eyes frantically looking for an escape it will never find. 

“I mean—I mean…” Mike stumbles, “I thought we were a team. You said we could be a team again.” 

“Yeah, and I meant it,” Will tells him adamantly, his voice raising an octave and fingers fiddling with Karen’s old shower curtain. 

“Well, I don’t know,” Mike urges persistently, unrelenting in letting this conversation go. “Sometimes it feels like you would rather not even be in the same room with me. Sometimes it feels like just the thought of you being around me… repulses you, or makes you upset.” 

“That’s- that’s not—” Will stutters, dropping his hand from the curtain and finally regarding Mike directly. His eyes are dark in the low orange light, more brown than green now, and very grave. One side of his face is soaked in dark shadows. It highlights the way his features have sharpened over the last year, and beautiful seems to be only word that comes to Mike’s mind.

Beautiful? What the hell is wrong with him?

Will swallows roughly and his voice is coarse as he shakes his head at him. “That’s just not true , Mike.” 

Mike almost wants to scoff at Will throwing his own words from California back at him. Will never lies to him. But Mike knows from El that he’s lied about the painting. It seems like they’ve been drowning in lies since the summer before he left for Lenora.So many lies. 

He sucks in a breath, closing the distance between them, and swallowing down the scared look on Will’s face. He can’t escape, and Mike hates the fear and desperation in Will’s eyes. It makes his stomach turn. He hates how Will still can’t even stand to be in the same room as him anymore. What has happened to their friendship? How has it become something Mike can’t even recognize? 

“You're lying” Mike professes, as he stares down hard at Will and holds his breath against the sob that threatens to escape. There’s a long pause and then he rests his palm along the cool tile behind Will’s head. Mike inches his face closer, keeping Will’s gaze on him, desperately scanning his face for something resembling truth.

"No,” Will swallows and shakes his head, his eyes shaded evergreen and determined. “You’re wrong.”

Mike’s eyes trace along Will’s jaw, down to the smooth muscles of his neck. They follow the constellation of moles there, watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down nervously, and his teeth drag over his full bottom lip, leaving a glistening trail of spit Mike wishes he could thumb away. It is as if he’s on fire, as if there’s an electric current inside Will that radiates from the surface of his skin, enveloping him completely.

It feels like nothing he’s experienced before, even with El in her bed on sunny afternoons, and he wants so badly to reach out and touch him; slide his fingers along the ridge line of his jaw, watch Will sigh into his skin, feeling his breath on the inside of his wrist. He wants to roam his hands over other places, places below his belt and off limits, places that the mere thought of makes his cheeks burn in shame. Mike wants to wrap his arms around him and whisper that lies were never necessary, tell him that there’s nothing that could ever make Mike not want him around. That he will always be his best friend.

Will lifts his chin to where Mike’s hand hovers indecisively between them, defiant in his confidence, and Mike feels as if he’s daring him to do something.

Their foreheads are almost pressed together, but instead of touching Will, Mike grips the edge of the windowsill with all his strength. He shifts forward, and the front of their bodies meet. The connection makes him purse his lips in anticipation, and he places his foot in between Will's legs to steady himself. The sensation of his knee brushing the soft padding of the inside of Will’s thigh shoots that, now familiar shock, through Mike’s body. It pools low in his pelvis with an excruciatingly dull pulse. Will stiffens against the wall and sighs out, and Mike feels Will’s fingers at the back of his hip, balling the edge of Mike’s t-shirt in his fist.

The fire shoots up Mike’s side again where Will touches him and before Mike can stop himself he closes the distance left between them, his hips connecting roughly with Will’s as he thrusts forward, his chin coming to rest in the crook of his neck. Will’s skin is smooth and hot and he smells earthy, like a forest after a rainstorm. A small sound, fractured and vulnerable, and like nothing Mike’s ever heard come out of Will echoes into the bathroom, and Mike can’t focus his thoughts on anything; anything except for the way Will smells like rain, or how the water left running can’t drown out how he sighs against his cheek. He can’t focus on anything but the way Will’s ribs feel beneath his fingers and how Will claws at his back; how his vision whites out at the sensation of Will's hips aligning perfectly with his. Mike can't focus on anything but how it feels as if some veil has been lifted from his eyes.This is how it's supposed to feel. How had I never known?

  Suddenly, Mike feels Will’s palm at his chest, unexpectedly strong and shoving him away.

“No,” he sighs quietly. Mike falls back against the edge of the sink, grasping onto the icy porcelain for dear life and humiliation creeping up his neck. 

“No, Mike.” Will says again, his voice now more sure and determined. Fierce. He glares at him, his eyes dark and resolute, but his voice cracks violently around his words. “You are the liar.”

Mike ? 

Mike recognizes Nancy’s voice, and the rhythm of how her feet pad down the hall. He turns his head and sees the light from the hallway turn on, shining brightly through the crack in the door. 

Mike ? Are you okay? —--I thought I heard–

Terror shoots up Mike’s spine and he can’t move, frozen and clinging to the sink. Will's body is still pushed up against the tile wall, arms drawn around himself and staring at the floor. His brow is deeply creased in what Mike thinks looks like something akin to terror. He notices Will’s hand trying to grasp for his belt loop is shaking. He notices it and hides it from Mike's view.

Will then regards Mike directly, and Mike squirms under his scrutiny. His chest rises and falls with heaving breaths, tear filled eyes turning black with anger and a hurt that makes Mike want to die. It's then that Mike realizes that he’s ruined everything. He’s misunderstood Will completely. His stupid feelings and disgusting urges have now ruined their friendship for good. Will must hate him. He wouldn’t blame him if he never wants to speak to him again. And now he knows.

Nancy opens the door and flicks the bathroom light on, drenching them in harsh light. Mike flinches, a terror as frightening as the Upside Down shuddering through him. Will pushes himself off the wall, squints against the brightness and stands up straight, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. 

“Oh,” Nance says, surprised. “Sorry- I- I didn’t know you were here Will.” She pauses a moment as she regards them. “Is everything okay?” 

Mike feels Will stare at him, his gaze searing Mike’s skin like a brand. He can’t bring himself to acknowledge him and studies the white tile on the floor instead. 

“Yeah,” Will tells her, sucking in a deep breath. “We’re fine.” Mike winces at the way he tries to hide the emotion in his voice. It breaks over him like a wave and before he can say anything, before he can beg him to wait, Will shoves past him, dodging Nancy, and bolting into the hallway. Mike hears his every footstep as he rushes down the stairwell. 

Nancy huffs behind him, and Mike sinks lower against the sink when he turns to look at her. 

“Mike?!” she demands, hands on her hips and blue eyes scalding him. “What is going on?” 

“Nothing!” he yells viciously, pushing past her roughly and retreating to his room. He slams the door before she can chase him and flops face down onto his pillow. The sobs come fast and hard and he hates himself more than he ever has before, unable to escape the scent of trees after a rainstorm, the lingering sensation of their bodies pressed together, and visions of green eyes calling him a liar.

Liar. Liar. Liar.

#byler #byler fanfic #a certain slant of light #will byers #will byers has power #stranger things #mike wheeler #angst #writing snippet #stranger things fanart #will byers fanart #byler fanart

[thethinkingaurora]

Hey you, the one with the 'cool thing you think about but don't get to talk about as much as you'd like to.' What is one thing you want to talk about, in as much detail as you'd like (I will read all of it).

Ok one thing that I really think is cool, hmmmmm

This happens every time I’m asked “what do you like” my brain just instantly vacates everything I do, it’s just like “Error 404: Life Experiences not found”

Hmmmmmm, I’d probably say ciphers/encryption

Ok so encryption and ciphers, simple in concept but holy hell does this shit get complex and fun fast

I first found out about them from the Secret Breakers book series (I love it, would definitely recommend), and then I went to a CTYI (Centre for Talented Youth Ireland) course and learned more about them and how they work, in between these two events I also did a load of research and got really hyper fixated on them, I then proceeded to learn more and begin creating my own and making my own little puzzles and stuff

Ok so encipherment and encryption both do a similar job, obfuscate a message to hide it, they were used in the World Wars to send messages to people in enemy lines on both sides (most notably the Enigma Machine), encryption often uses mathematics and numbers linked in certain ways to hide things, ciphers are a little different in the way they operate, ciphers are obfuscations but it’s easier to hide that they are obfuscations as they can often look like normal text

For example, the Baconian cipher uses something similar to binary and highlighted text to hide a message, so 00000 is A, 00001 is B, 00010 is C, so on, so where there is a one you highlight the letter

So to hide the word “hi” you need at least 10 letters, but less that 15, so “hello there” is our ten letters and hi translates to 00111 01000, so we highlight the letters specified, which gives us “hello there” (the baconian cipher was made by Sir Francis Bacon and he has many written letters with hidden messages in them, that’s all I can remember off the top of my head)

But using encryption (for example Base64) “hi” would become “aGk=“ which is much more obvious that it is a hidden message

I’ll explain how encryption is used in real life somewhat in a reblog later, I just want to get back to where I was as uI just accidentally deleted a huge chunk of what I had typed (as in I opened Google to check my spelling and tumblr decided it would be the perfect time to restart, I’m typing this on my phone)

Ok so onto the ciphers, the one that I really really like

So ciphers have been in use for millennia, I’ll start with a common enough one, The Polybius Square

The Polybius Square was created by an Ancient Greek scholar called Polybius(yeah he tried really hard when naming his cipher), the cipher is a simple enough substitution cipher (a substitution cipher is where certain letters or symbols are replaced by others things), where letters are replaced using 2 digits which mark there position on the square

Which looks like this, it goes like this 11=A, 12=B, 13=C, 14=D, 15=E, 21=F, and so on, you’ll notice that in 24, instead of a single letter is both “i” and “j” simply for the reason that you can’t make a square out of 26 boxes

Early ciphers were often only used by themselves but later they were used together to make more complex ciphers whether this be where it was encoded once and then encoded again or that the two were used at the same time to do some funny shenanigans

A great example of this is the ADGFX cipher which uses a modified Polybius Square along with Columnar Transpostion

Ok I’ll explain the ADGFX cipher in just a second ima explain columnar transposition first, so with columnar transposition you need a key, we’ll use “cargo” (the general standard) so first take your message and split it into groups with the amount of characters in the group corresponding to the length of the key (So “we need to attack soon”, would be grouped into groups of 5 when using a key like cargo, the groups would look like this “wenee dtoat tacks oon”)

Next you align the groups under the key

Here is one using the example message of “we need to attack soon”

Ok next you need to take the letters in your key and arrange them alphabetically, so cargo become acgor, now take the columns you made and shift them along with the key letters

Like this

So now that we have our letters it’s easy, we take them from left to right, top to bottom and write them out, leaving us with, “eweentdatoatkscoon” with the key of cargo, now if most people were given that they wouldn’t have the slightest clue what to do

So now imagine if we added more layers, like in the ADGFX cipher

Long story short, you take a custom alphabet and replace the letters in a Polybius square with them, then replace the numbers in the square with ADGFX

There is one that I stole from Google

So you encode your message using the square and then with the result you use the columnar transposition that we discussed earlier and then you have your final encoded message, unless you want to add more bullshit to it, like idk a A1Z26 cipher, changing the letters to numbers, or maybe a binary converter, or maybe a morse encoder, actually why not all of them

And that’s where shit starts getting fun (for me anyway, where you stack the jenga tower of encoding hoping that one of the ciphers in it doesn’t need numbers or spaces which other ciphers can’t use

Oh another fun thing, a number and text where you have to convert the number to binary and use that to highlight letters which are the encoded message, or are they

And that’s why I absolutely love encoding and ciphers so much because you can create such interesting little things that can become games, or just brand new ciphers where you have to spot little patterns or grab little ideas and run with them hoping that that was the way it works

Actually one last thing before I go, my own encipherment method which I couldn’t find anywhere online, and thus gave it a name

The Eclipsed Polybius Square (EPS)

Ok so the name comes from a name I used to go by (Which was Eclispe) and then the Polybius Square

Ok so I’ve written documentation of it countless times, but I can never explain it off the top of my head, I know how it works, it’s just stored in the depths of the blob of synapses that is in my skull

Ok so first step, take your message and use a Polybius square to turn it into the numbers,

I am struggling to figure out how to write this

Here is an example which I used in an sort of puzzle hunt that I made for some friends (If you notice the name Lily there, it’s a character within the story of the puzzle hunt, game, thing)

Ok so see how some of the words are highlighted, they indicate numbers for the Polybius square

So “the” is in bold and it’s 3 letters long so we get the number 3, then “to” is in bold so we get 2, these two give us 32 which is our first letter “M”, then we have “get” which is 3, then “time” which is 4, now we have our next letter 34 which is “O”, and this continues to give us a whole word

You’re welcome to solve the rest if you want(send it to me if you do, whether that be in DMs or reblog)

Also just a note, when making the text which will hold the code, I’d recommend making the code first and then writing the text working around the code to get it in using as little words as possible, or you might end up like I did with all of the text there only giving 1 word

Actually actually, I have one last thing, thank you @rookieroc for asking, I have been dying to talk about this and so much more but I just haven’t found anyone to say it about

P.S. I will most likely add to this over time with reblogs with more information on different ciphers

#ciphers #puzzles #encryption #cryptography #god I love ciphers #again thank you @rookieroc for giving me the opportunity to share this knowledge #whadda ya mean it’s half past 2 in the morning #where tf did my time go

[platonic-qpr-selfshipping]

okay let me finally show you my updated f/o list!! I am also planning to add some s/i info but tbh i still havent gotten to it cause im procrastinating it while trying to relax doing other stuff klsdksj here it is!! (I am aware that the first photos look weird in phones so pls bare with me and put it in pc mode lmaoo im a carrd super-beginner)

now if you'd let me, Imma talk a bit about the changes just because

I wanted to get a bit more specific mentioning platonic f/os so even if I like many characters in sources like Obey Me, you can now see which characters I think my s/i would be the closest with :D!! I also played a bit with labels ig but I read this fic where Mammon said there was no need "to be anything" as long as we were in peace with each other and I felt that on a spiritual lvl so instead of overthinking how to label f/os sometimes I just put him as unlabeled lol I just love self inserting in his world being really close to him and he's my fav character of the game and all but ig it becomes hard sometimes to try to fit that into something so I said whatever, it's my little self insert world and they can do whatever they want that brings me comfort XD yknow, sometimes partnering concepts just feel off but at the same time I enjoy saying I am a Mammon simp cause I love the character so it's a bit of a mess in my brain sometimes, trying to make both my experience as a player and my s/i's fit for my best comfort

(yes this was another Mammon UR+ I did not get on Nightbringer)

talking about labels, I've decided to put all the Golden Deer as platonic soulmates :D! I think it suits us all and all the unique bonds they form with each other, and I thought that the whole thing of my s/i probably having this huge feeling of admiration and loyalty towards Claude felt better like this somehow, like it's a part of my s/i lore and not so much about what their relationship can be or not? I dont know if this makes sense worded like this but it seems to work out in my head XD I still plan to someday develop my s/i's story a lot so who knows

anyway, FRIENDS AND FAMILY!! I feel like it's pretty obvious that I've started to play Honkai Star Rail because suddenly I got a friend, a brother and a father from there- listen everytime I see the Astral Express Family written in the groupchat I emotionally cry happy tears (also I wouldnt be surprised if i ended up also f/oing Himeko in the future lmao, I love found families can you tell)

from Genshin Impact I've officially added Thoma as a platonic f/o :D!! (my hearts craves to befriend kind characters, yes) I think my Genshin s/i is probably the one with the most lore right now so I'm excited to write about this in the future! well,,,,, actually my Super Mario Bros s/i also has some info around themselves already,,,,,, like would you believe me if I told you I was already making up s/i lore while still watching the movie,,,,, the self-shipper experience huh.....

I love her

and do you know who I also love a lot.....?

those platonic f/os I've been mentioning in some reblogs lately saying I still havent talked about them......?

the dudes that may have taken over my brain recently using the power of friendship....?

yeah

yeah

aren't they the coolest tho

anyway I love them (repeating it as if i hadnt made it clear already) and I had to rewrite part of this cause I accidentally deleted it it so I think I'll finish it here ksdhkjs I believe there is a bit more to see in the carrd though, I'll put it in my pinned post soon :D! now if you'd excuse me imma go consume more hypmic manga as a healing experience, if you've read until here go drink some water, listen to Break The Wall and thank me later

#f/o community #self ship community #self shipping #self ship #f/o #selfship #queerplatonic f/o #platonic f/o #f/o list #all i write is about you #self shipper #self shipping community #selfshipping #self shipping blog #i love the pink aesthetic i may try to also bring it to this blog :D

[zelkam]

content creator appreciation!

list five favourite sets you’ve made and tag five other content creators 💖💖

I was tagged by @yilinglaozu - thank you so much!!

nie huaisang’s plan on a fan: my baby of which I am very proud of because it was an idea that was brewing in my head for a long long time and ngl I don’t think you often see sets like that?; also I was so reluctant to start making it because I thought it would be a pain [I was mentally preparing myself for like 16MB file sizes etc] but it turned out to be such a pleasant surprise in the end

wangxian in the jingshi: I am soft for them being soft okay. and this was one of the rare times when I pushed myself to include overlays and blending lmao

abel jiang cheng and cain wei wuxian: I saw this quote for the first time and Knew that I have to make it into an edit; also the typography hiding behind the characters is always fun to do

this lan wangji set: again with the hiding text and the constellation-like thing in the first gif was also interesting to figure out; and I am just Weak for Lan Wangji’s longing and quiet sadness; though I am also still very pissed about this set because I may have accidentally deleted it instead of a draft (to this day I don’t know for sure what happened), so the original post does not exist, it’s all just floating reblogs lmao;

lan wangji and jiang cheng being petty bitches: did I hit a nerve, bitch boy?

I’m gonna tag @evakant, @jiangwanyin​, @fangrui, @haleths and @ghafahey!

#tag games

[4uru]

Being in the shadowhunters fandom is fucking wild,

bc i famously dont like cc and been here for 3 years now holy shit, some of the ppl here were here before i could even say goo goo gaga and shit,

so lemme explain my journey that nobody asked for✌️🤡

i have a strong hate for tmi, bc it traumatised me at the ripe age of twelve and book malec made my queer tween brain think i was a mistake and a stain on the universe for being a closeted bisexual.

The only character i cared about was simon and then cc made him cheat on the two most wonderful women. That didnt go well with my divorced parent having ass. Do i need to mention that it was around this time i came out to my parents during quarantine of 2020 june and promptly got shafted and traumatised. 🙃

I only read tmi bc my stepmother got me chog. And i read a 100 pages before i decided i needed context for this shit.

Anyway, I finished tmi, hated it, wanted to read tda, then went on to read tda, illegally, and got shafted when I found out I accidentally read summaries of the first two books. And not the books itself, got angry at me for being dumb and then went to read the 3rd book, finished it in a haze of rage and sleep and I barely remember what happened.

I tried to litsen to the audiobook of tid and after like 7 hours, the first part, i fell asleep. And lost patience to rewind the whole thing.

So i gave up and instead finished chog and then finished choi but i barely remember anything.

Last year around september i downloaded the whole tid triology to finish it, i made it to the point i left off last time, but got bored.

I got thru 7hours of ghost of shadow market on yt before it got deleted 👀

I skimmed Sobh bc the writing style there is fucking atrocious I do not know what happened, and I'm not sure if I want to know either. I maybe will read twp when I'm an old man with chronic back pain and way too much free time on my hands. So yeah. I will read Chot bc of Alastair Carstairs and Alastair Carstairs only.

Love some ppl in this fandom, but they don't know me yet. Did feel good during Alastair Carstair month when I was most active with my fics and drawings and I saw my fav blogs reblog my stuff. i had extreme fanboy moments .

I fill the void in my heart cc created by drawing her actually good and fleshed-out characters.

I loathe this woman for many thing and one of them is, creating this blasted universe which has so much potential; which would be so much better if someone who knows what they are doing got their hands on it.

I may or may not have 17361881367829 plot Lines that serve only one purpose, "have jace and clary not kiss when they believe they are siblings and sebastine doesn't have a raging hard on for them"

So I'm just a Bengali queer+trans teen with a hyper fixation. This fandom is my hell but I got comfortable. I come in and out, and each time watch it becomes just a little bit worse than before.

#anti cc #Tsc crit #Anti tmi #the shadowhunter chronicles #Big rant nobody asked for #Practiced this speech for year's #I still have more to say #This post is just going to rot in my blog isn't it ? #Auru's tsc rants

[jamieleecvrtis]

TOM HOPPER as Marcus in Tormented (2009) (reupload)

#thopperedit #menedit #tom hopper #horroredit #userdaniel #mygifs #I think I like accidentally deleted the first one instead of a reblog of it lmao fuck me #I was like the notes are going up but I cant see???? #yeah I fucked it x #and this will probably get even less as a consequence butttt I needed it in my gifs tag so #just reblog his bum again xo #further the gay agenda #boys #bum

[something-fanfiction-ie]

Out of the Lion’s Den

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of rape (not against the reader), attempted rape and assault (against the reader) angst, cursing, insults, the usual super dramatic shit you see in the taken down of an unsub

A/N: Wowie wow wow wow, so this is kinda long. And I know I said I was gonna post it like two days ago, HOWEVER! In my defense, I started writing it and then about halfway through I accidentally closed tumblr so it deleted everything I had. So I went to bed defeated. But it’s here now, that’s the important thing, right? Remember to like, comment, reblog, send me asks, and just be your usual amazing selves and give me the attention that my parents never gave me as the oldest of eight. As always, THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ME AND I APPRECIATE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!

___

[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four ]

December 1998

It felt good to be back home in Georgia. The wind whipped at the trees outside of the diner you and you best friend were currently catching up at. The waitress, Flora, knows you by name and sets your usual in front of you with a ruffle of your hair and a couple of southern endearments.

“Tell me everything.” Madalyn says, reaching across the table for the ketchup that was placed on your side of the booth. You swat at her hand when she makes a grab for one of your fries. Her laugh is loud and feels like home, making you smile into your drink in a way you haven’t smiled all semester.

“I’d like to preface this conversation by saying that I feel like this would be a much cooler experience if I were the same age as everyone else.” You point out, brushing your growing bangs away from your eyes with an annoyed swat. Her eyes soften with sympathy, swirling a fry into the ketchup tucked into a safe space on her plate. She doesn’t say anything though, knowing that you have more to say.

“The classes are awesome. The campus is beautiful. I learn something new all the time, which was never happening when I was going to school here,” you pause long enough to glance around the room. It’s packed with all kinds of people, from old men clustered at the counter sipping on coffees to construction workers munching on hamburgers during their break, even big families squished into booths and tables for a nice Sunday family lunch.

“But?” You shrug in response, knowing that Madalyn will be able to read you like an open book if you meet her eyes. Across the table, the amateur profiler squints her dark eyes at you with suspicion.

“Everyone just kinda avoids me. The guys are cute, but they’re all nineteen and twenty. Most of the things to do on campus, you have to be eighteen for, so I mostly just spend my time at the library or at Aunt May’s doing homework.” At this, Madalyn stops eating, raising her eyebrows with a cheeky grin.

“I bet your grades are super rad,” You resist the urge to throw a French fry in her face after what she says next. “And besides, I’m the only friend you need in your life.”

“Actually, I have made a kind of friend?” Flora is over before you can finish the drink in your cup, filling the glass with a dark, blue pitcher. When you thank her, she reaches out to pat your cheek, mumbling something about missing you while you were gone.

“Should I be jealous? Is she pretty? She may be a big sister type, but I’m your soulmate.” You laugh into your sandwich having to cover your mouth when you take a bite and the laughter doesn’t go away.

Madalyn has been your best friend for four years, although time seems to have no meaning in your relationship because nobody would doubt it if you told them you’d known her since birth. While most kids in your age group had grown up thinking you were odd, Madalyn had decided that you were just interesting. That interest had turned into a friendship that would span years and miles more than many friendships do.

While the things you both enjoyed, like Leonardo DiCaprio and Ben Affleck, certainly brought you together, it was your differences that made you click like the pieces of a puzzle. Only true friends can debate on opposite sides of an argument and then end the night eating popcorn while watching Space Jam in the living room.

“His name is Harvey.” When Madalyn’s eyebrows go up this time, it is from surprise. You’ve never been one to socialize with anyone of the opposite gender, much less become ‘kinda friends’ with them. Plus, as a young lady of very womanly curves, she’s quite aware of the way some guys cross the line on a regular basis.

“(Y/N)-” You wave your hand in the air, once again pushing at the bangs that keep falling in your face. You should have never cut them in the first place, and you never would have if you realized what a hassle they would be when you started growing them out.

“I don’t like him like that. He’s just a really nice guy, helps me with homework and walks me to a class or two. We’ve never even met up outside of school.” Her eyes are still narrowed, a stray dark wave falling from the hair comb that pins the top half of her hair away from her face.

Eventually, she changes the subject. Trusting that you are smart enough to know when things have gotten out of hand and how to take care of it.

“So why are you growing your bangs out? I thought you liked them. Didn’t you say they make you look more grown up?” You unstick your thighs from the leather booth seat, pinning her with a look that she knows all too well.

“Now that’s a crazy story.” She also makes herself comfortable in her seat, preparing herself for a story. It’s probably a good thing you’re a phenomenal story teller, or else she would have gotten tired of all the stories you tell really quickly.

“So last month a girl comes forward and reports that she was cornered by a man she didn’t know on her way from the library back to her dorm. He held her at gun point and rapes her. It got kinda big, because she was rallying a group of men and women to escort girls around campus. And, I mean, I understand the unease she must feel, and I was sympathetic, but I was kind of confused why there was so much uproar over one rape.”

Having finished your own fries, you reach across the table and steal one from your outraged best friend. Before she can grab it back, you’ve shoved it into your mouth.

“Until a second girl comes forward and says that she reported the same thing happening to her a month ago. The campus, meanwhile, is doing nothing about it. No increased security, no curfew, not even acknowledged them.”

“For two girls?”

“For five,” The pause you take is natural, scooting the bottom of your cup across the tabletop so you could sip from the straw without picking the cup up, but it reads as dramatic effect. “And that’s not even the craziest part.”

One dark eyebrow raised into her hairline, waiting for you to continue the story and also answer the question.

“Every victim was a freshman, so they’re a little on the younger side, they all had the same hair color and style, all had the same body type, all were the same height, all had the same eye color.” This time you do pause for dramatic effect, using the silence to build the tension.

“And all of them look exactly like me. Bangs and all.”

Madalyn leans forward a little, suddenly very worried about you going back next month. As she hurriedly tries to make sure you are taking the necessary precautions during a scary time like this, Flora floats around the diner, stopping to fill up the cup of a single man just behind your booth. All he has is black coffee, a textbook of some kind is splayed open across the table but he doesn’t seem to be too interested in it. Instead, he leans back in his seat, his ears listening to your every word.

“So in summary, I’m growing out my bangs because that’s obviously apart of this dude’s type.” Madalyn doesn’t protest anymore when you reach for another fry on her plate.

“Stop looking at me like that. I’m going to be fine. I’ll even color my hair if you’re so worried.” And the conversation continues, your best friend overly worried about you and your life as a fifteen year old college student, and you masking your fear for appearances sake. Harvey, however, finishes his coffee and asks for the bill.

He thought you were smarter than that. He thought you were smart enough to connect the dots and at least notice that he’d done all of it for you. That you were his everything. Apparently that was wrong. One day you’ll figure it out, of that he is certain.

For now though, you don’t even notices when he passes your table to get to the door.

Present Day

Spencer steps away from the car door, the cool wind hitting his cheeks and tousling his hair. It helps the dizziness in his head, and the nausea in his stomach, but it doesn’t help the sharp pain in his heart. His brain is swimming in all of the information, putting the pieces of the crime scene together like it was a puzzle.

“He left her in the driver’s seat after stabbing her from the backseat, walking around the front before knocking her out and carrying her to his own vehicle.” JJ looks back at the car, peering around crime scene analysts as they hurry about collecting evidence.

“She tried to leave, but her tires spun in the mud.” Rossi notes, nodding to the mud splatter along the sides of your car and the tiny graves each tire has dug into the ground for itself.

“There’s blood in the back.” Spencer finally speaks, looking away from the backseat window and back to his two partners. All eyes flick to the back seat where there is indeed two drops of blood on the floor and a smear of it on the headrest of the passenger seat.

“If he’s in any system then we’ll catch him.” Rossi said, nodding for the techs to collect what they could from the back. Spencer turns back to the car, well aware that there wasn’t anything else here for them the find that would lend them any information as to your whereabouts.

“In a system or not, I will hunt him to the ends of the earth before I let him get away with this.”

Back at the BAU, Prentiss makes calls to your mother and your best friend, Madalyn. Both answer on the first ring, and both are all the more willing to answer any questions that may assist the team in finding the man who had taken you.

“Is there anyone you remember (Y/N) mentioning that maybe stood out to you or her as creepy and stalkerish?” Your mother doesn’t recall anyone, having been focused on so many different cases during your childhood and having been so distant from you since you decided to not become a detective.

Madalyn, however, is quick to answer with a name Prentiss recalls crossing off the list of persons of interest.

“Harvey Morgenstein. They were friends in college, and although it weirded me out because he was a lot older than her at the time, he seemed harmless and I trusted (Y/N). But then he became her agent’s personal assistant all coincidentally and it just seemed too fishy to me.” Prentiss writes the name down, sliding it across the table with a pointed look at Garcia.

As quick as lightning, Harvey’s life history is pulled up between computer screens for both women to delve into.

Harvey is a short man with a wide build that, in earlier pictures, shows him to be more soft than muscly. His hair is dirty blonde but his eyes are two dark circles of coal that seem to pierce through the screen and into the souls of both Penelope and Emily.

“He’s totally not creepy looking.” Garcia remarks sarcastically, eyes sweeping across the information given to her the way Reid’s eyes might fly up and down the pages of a book or a case file.

“Tell me about it.” Emily replies, leaning into the seat designated for those on the team who so wished to give Penelope a visit while remaining off their feet.

“Harvey is a pretty normal guy for the most part. Single child of a Harvey and Lucille Morgenstein. Graduated from Georgetown in 2000 with a major in computer technology, minor in criminology.”

“The same graduating class as (Y/N).” Prentiss notes, her eyes just behind Garcia’s as articles and documents fly around the computer. Where some people talked with their hands, Garcia talked with her screens. The constant tap-tap-tapping of rings and fingers against the keyboard was like the audible churnining of cogs in her brain.

“Yeah, he spent some time as an IT guy at Georgetown before he got a job as a personal assistant. The only spot on his squeaky clean record that I can find is that he was a person of interest in a few rape cases involving some girls on campus back in the late 90’s, but he had alibis for every single one so they let him walk.” The pictures of every victim pop up across the screen in the form of a newspaper article talking about the serial rappings.

Gasps come from both their mouths as the dots connect.

“Call Reid and the others, and then call the agent. I think I may know what is going on.”

A couple of hours later and the pieces are all starting to come together.

Harvey had been the serial rapist from the 90s, attacking women who looked like you out of anger over not having you for himself, and pure obsession. After graduation, he tried to move on by distancing himself from you, but when his mother was diagnosed with cancer he fell back into his old stalkerish ways.

He followed your every move through your agent, who was the only person you spoke to the most outside of your mom and Madalyn.

After a little digging into unsolved rape cases in the area, it was obvious from the victimology and an oddly specific M.O. where he bit each of his victims on the neck, that he had also fallen back into his perverted rapist ways.

Harvey might have been content to stay like that, an obvious self esteem issue keeping him from ever approaching you directly for a date, until a month ago. Not even two days after the death of his sick mother, you and Spencer went on your first date outside of the bookstore. A double trigger.

In a sick and twisted display of love, Harvey started killing people the way you’d written deaths in your books. But with every death you continued to ignore him and see Spencer.

“Eventually it all became too much for him to handle and he snapped, kidnapping (Y/N) and calling to taunt Reid over his victory.” Hotch passed a hand over his face. The sirens blared loudly as they raced for Harvey’s house just outside of Quantico.

“This guy has been stalking her for a ridiculous amount of time.” Morgan commented with a shudder, sympathy and guilt from the earlier interrogation eating at him as the black SUV careens around a corner.

When they bust through his door, clearing each room and finding a creepy amount of pictures and papers about you, they realize that he has taken you somewhere else. And who do you call when you’re at a dead end and you need information?

“You’ve reached Penelope Garcia in the FBI’s Office of Supreme Genius.”

___

Breaking a chair that is nailed to the floor is a lot harder than it sounds, and it already sounds kinda hard.

There was a lot of kicking and hitting and some bruises were definitely starting to form, but the amount of blood coming from your leg was scary. The chances that the knife had nicked your femoral artery were relatively slim, especially given how long you’ve been bleeding, but you couldn’t help but waver on the side of caution.

After several failed attempts of throwing your body into the wood and kicking and hitting and pulling and crying and then repeating the cycle, you managed to pop a leg off. While the base of the leg stayed nailed to the floor, you spent the rest of your time trying to tear the chair from the rest of the legs, when you did you threw the top half against the concrete wall.

Taking two spindles from the back, you quickly scurry back to the mattress and wait for him to return. It’s only a matter of time before he decides to come back down here to taunt you or try something.

In your short time in what Harvey has so lovingly deemed ‘your room,’ you have come to a couple conclusions in an attempt to distract yourself from the excruciating pain in your thigh.

One being that this is not Harvey’s home. Of that you’re one hundred percent certain. Upstairs, you can hear the sound of two sets of feet thudding around. You can only assume this is his childhood home. You remember that his mother had died about a month ago, causing him to resign from his position as your agent’s personal assistant. She had mentioned to you that he planned to help his father as much as he could before he too passed away.

The second being that you were probably going to loose your leg. Any move this way or that sends a thousand knives through every nerve in your body. Your throat is scratchy and sore from how long you’ve been yelling, both in trying to get someone’s attention and in pain.

The light coming from the small window next to the ceiling hasn’t even begun to wane with the falling sun when the door opens again. The chain around your uninjured leg clatters when you pull your knee up to your chest. You don’t even attempt to move the other leg.

Harvey appears in the opening, a tray of food balances in his hands as he shuts the door behind him.

“Find some weapons?” He asks casually, setting the tray beside the lamp as he sinks to his knees on the mattress. Your knuckles are white around each spindle, the inside of your mouth is sensitive to the touch from how much nervous chewing you’ve been doing.

“Get away from me, or I’ll kill you.” You seethe, fighting through the swimming in your head that hasn’t gone away since you woke up here. He gives you a look like you’re a misbehaving child, but it’s soon replaced with anger when you slap him across the face with one of your weapons.

You were hoping the attack would break skin, but all it does is turns the skin over his cheekbone dark red.

Faster than you can blink, he pins both your wrists with one of his hands above your head on the mattress, using the other hand to deftly pluck each spindle from your grip.

“I’ve done so much for you. I’ve given you a room, and a career, and so much more, and yet you attack me.” The wooden spindles hit the wall next to the door, his body lowers to yours in a way you know means more trouble.

“You’re a creep and a perv and I don’t want you to touch me! You’ve done nothing for me. Only for yourself.” In a way that would make any young boy proud to know you, you collect all the spit and bile in your mouth before shooting it into his face. Part of it hits him in the eye, causing him to roar in outrage.

He lets you go, giving you a brief moment of relief, but he only wipes away the loogey before rocking his hand back hard enough to crack against the side of your face. In your moment of disorientation, he flips you to your stomach and undoes the cuff from around your leg. The chain rings against the ground when he tosses it to the side.

His knee went to your back, his hands went to your waist, and the moment you manage to come back to yourself, your fingers clawed at whatever flesh you could find near you. You screamed and flailed as much as you could, the shooting pain of your leg barely noticeable when your body was in panic mode.

All you can think as that this is the kind of thing you read about. People don’t actually get kidnapped and rapped by people they knew in college. But you know that isn’t true either. You are the daughter of a detective, things like this were apart of your everyday life growing up. Just never as personal as you or a friend being the victim. For some reason that makes you fight harder, a sickly feelings creeping into your throat when you felt his fingers brush under the hem of your underwear.

Then a sound pulled you from your hysteria, the door fell to the ground and a swarm of FBI Agents descended upon the concrete basement you still refused to call ‘your room.’ Spencer was the last of them to enter, but the unadulterated fury in his eyes was enough to tell you that was not a decision on his part.

To you, and maybe even everyone else in the room who managed to look at him for longer than a millisecond, he looked like an avenging angel. Every chocolate caramel curl perfectly framed his face, which looked like it was carved out of stone. His jaw was so tense you could slice your finger if your ran it along the edge. The revolver in his hands was unwavering, only growing in steadiness when he caught compromising position you were in.

The sob that came out of your throat was one of relief. Harvey lifted you from the mattress, reaching into his pocket to pull out that damned pocket knife. He held you so close to his chest that it made your skin crawl.

“Harvey Morgensten, drop the weapon.” Morgan’s voice boomed around the room. Harvey held you with one arm tensed around the front of your shoulders and the other holding a knife to your neck.

“She’s mine! You weren’t supposed to be able to find us!” He screamed, you winced away from the shrilling pitch that scraped against the inside of your ear. It caused him to push the knife into the skin over your exposed collarbone, blood beading around the the metal tip. Your heart was hammering beneath your ribs, your hands flexing at your sides, your mind racing for a way to get out of this situation.

Spencer’s lip went up in a snarl, you half expected him to let a growl tear through his chest as if he was a lion standing against an enemy. The hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention when he took a hesitant step forward, his eyes softening for just a fraction of a second when he looks down at you.

In that fraction of a second all of his defenses fall and you can see all the grief and panic in the bags under his eyes and the raw skin of his bottom lip.

“She was never yours, Harvey.” Spencer says, wincing when Harvey responds by yanking you even closer than before. His breath is hot on your neck, his lips so close that they brush against the skin on the back of your shoulder when he speaks.

“She was never yours, Dr. Reid. She is mine, she always will be.” You cry out in surprise, your fingers coming up to scratch at the arm around your shoulders when a pair of teeth sink into the crook of your neck as if you were the victim of a vampire or something equally supernatural and territorial.

The action has the desired effect on every agent watching, especially Reid, who stumbles forward before Hotch grabs him by the back of his arm. They don’t have a shot, not without hurting you. That much you can tell just from the look they share. It doesn’t take a genius to look around and see that the end of every gun in the room is pierced right through you.

It makes you angry. You grind the back of your teeth together when a dark chuckles echoes from behind you. In your mind’s eye, you see it all happening the way you see a scene from a book playing before you like a movie.

Reaching up with one hand, you grab the onto the arm holding the knife. With the pad of your thumb, you shove every bit of strength you have into the soft skin at the inside of his wrist. At the same time, you pull your head forward before sending it reeling back onto his already broken nose. This time, you can feel the crunch of bones as your skull makes contact with his face.

Simultaneously, he drops the knife to the floor with a cry and drops his arms to reach for his gushing nose. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you manage the couple of steps forward into Spencer’s arms. In a quick and graceful display of surprising strength, he carries you back into his embrace and spins around to shield you from the monster staggering back toward you.

Prentiss is quick to catch him in his blind pursuit for you, twisting both of his arms back without an ounce of sympathy for his pain. The jingle of handcuffs precede the finality of each click around his wrists.

“Everything I did, I did for you! I made your book come to life, I ruined the reputation of those girls, I did it all for you.” Harvey struggles against the restraints, twisting his body any way that he can to get a glimpse of you curled into Spencer’s chest.

You brain is caught between reality and a distant world, everything around you feels like make believe. Only the feeling of Spencer’s sweater curled into your fingers and his hand on the back of your head feels real. Harvey’s voice is like a recording being played three blocks away, still loud enough to hear but not close enough to focus on. He’s hissing threats and insults at Spencer’s back, that psycho-something in him finally snapping under the circumstances.

Somebody is yelling for a medic and there, just underneath it all, is the sound of someone wailing in such a way that words could never accurately describe the intense pain and grief being carried on every screaming sob. As the events from the last twelve hours come rushing back to you, reality takes the reins of your mind.

It’s you that’s crying like that. That desperate, broken sound is coming from your heaving chest. When your leg finally gives out from under you, the pain too much for your body to bare, he was already there holding you.

The screams fade into small shattered sobs just in time for medics to descend the stairs. Their hands are voices are everywhere, medical jargon flying over your head as they pry your hands from Spencer’s sweater. You pull back from every touch, the thoughts in your brain flying too fast for you to keep up.

It takes them a while to get you to the ambulance, but when they do you start to panic.

“Spencer?!” You cry out, unable to move your head too much due to the neck brace and head strap holding you down. It takes only a second for him to come into view, his eyes glassy and his smile watery. His hand slips into yours before they raise you up to the ambulance, your hand is icy to the touch.

The paramedics had mentioned a possible concussion, excessive blood loss, and signs of acute compartment syndrome. The fact that you had remained conscious and walking this long was a testament to your strong will and fighting spirit.

“Don’t leave me.” You whispered, the black around the edges of your vision creeping in despite how hard you fought it. Spencer almost winced from how hard you tightened the grip on his fingers. His mouth moved, but you never heard the response, your mind fading quickly with every second.

“Don’t leave.”

The sound of a heart monitor steadily beeping was what woke you up. Groaning from all the aches and pains that surged up with consciousness, your eyes fluttered open before squinting into the bright hospital lights.

Your mother was the first thing that popped into your field of vision. The last time she had looked at you with such worry, you’d been in the ER after flipping your car into a ditch. In your defense, it was dark and, as a young driver, you over corrected when you hit a patch of standing water.

“Mama?” You pushed up on the bed, the pillow behind your head falling to the space between your lower back and the mattress. Your mom was quick to pick it up and fluff it back behind your head. She must really be concerned. Had they found cancer while you were out or something?

“Oh my goodness, (Y/N), you had me so worried.” Gingerly, you pressed the heel of your hand to the bandage that stuck to your hair and the corner of your head. Brushing the butterfly stitches that went across the cut on your cheek, you barely had time to react before she pulled you into a breath-stealing hug.

The wound on your neck smarted with the movement and you hissed in pain. Your mom pulled back, squishing your cheeks between her hands as tears began to collect on her lower lash line. Your mother was not the type to cry, about really anything, as far as you knew of. So to see her tearing up like this only added to the confusion and shock you were already feeling.

“Never join law enforcement. I thought I wanted you to, but I can’t deal with this kidnapping and near-death nonsense. I’m getting too old for it.” She teased tenderly, releasing your face from the death grip of love to wipe away the tears before they fell down her cheeks.

“When did you get here?” You asked, taking note of all the wires and tubes that connected to your body via IVs and sticky pads. A glance down at your leg eased the fear that you might have sustained a leg wound that would take your leg from you. You didn’t move it for fear of the pain you could already feel throbbing to the beat of your heart.

The bed dipped under your mother’s weight as she sat beside you, gathering one of your hands into both of hers. Scars littered the knuckles that had wiped away your tears and taught you to throw punches.

“I only got here about an hour ago, but you’ve had round the clock protection from the FBI so no need to get panicky. I can see that look creeping into your eyes.” Her own eyes squint a little, those highly observant detective skills kicking in. She’s always been able to read you like an open book, making you wonder if she would have been good at profiling.

Of course she would have, your mother was good at everything she set her mind to.

“FBI?” You’re full of so many questions, but they all fall away when you mom shifts out of your line of sight to reveal the sleeping agent tucked away into the corner of the room.

Spencer is curled onto a hospital chair that is placed into a corner beside the window looking out over the parking lot. His back is leaned against the wall, one shoulder leaned against the back of the chair. One long leg is curled into the seat and the other is stretched out next to the chair. From across the room, you can see the shadows his eyelashes cast across his cheekbones in slumber. Oddly enough, your first thought is of Sleeping Beauty.

The sight is enough to make your heart feel like it’s squeezing around a ball of broken glass. Before your mother can read too much into the mixture of emotions that, surely, skew your features, you look away.

“He’s been here since they brought you in. I met his team, they’re a fine group of agents. You didn’t tell me you were friends with anyone in the FBI.” Before she can say anything else, you clear your throat. Putting one hand, a little dramatically, to your chest you give your mother a look you haven’t used since you were a kid trying to stay home from school.

“Mama, I’m a little hungry. Can you get me something to eat?” It works like a charm. You’ve never seen your mother jump so quickly before, she races out the door like a woman on a mission. It warms your aching heart.

“Maybe you should have tried acting.” Spencer’s voice is groggy with sleep as he sits up and stretches into awareness.

“How long have you been awake?” He meets your gaze, his expression soft and earth-shaking. When you imagined seeing Spencer wake up first thing in the morning, it was never in a hospital room while feelings of betrayal and confusion stabbed into your chest.

“Just long enough to hear your mom talk about my team. She’s a nice lady.” He doesn’t move from the chair, sensing the tension in the room the way only a profiler can. He’s afraid that if he gets up, you’ll make him leave. He doesn’t need to know that he’s right.

“How long have I been out?” You’re asking every question except the one you’ve been dying to ask.

“A day. You had a pretty bad concussion and acute compartment syndrome in your leg. They weren’t sure you were going to be able to retain control of the muscle given how long you were kept hostage with it untreated, but I know you’re too stubborn to let that happen.” The silence that follows is stifling, your eyes interlocked in a battle of wills.

Was this the same man that had accused you of being a serial killer?

You’re the first to look away, fidgeting with a fray string from the blanket thrown over your legs.

“I think we need some time apart.”

“I’m so incredibly sorry.” You both speak at the same time, but your words drain the blood from Spencer’s face when they finally register. He had hoped that, by some miracle, you would forgive him of the unforgivable sin he had committed against you in the name of justice. He understood why you didn’t.

“I just,” The threads of the blanket you recognize from your childhood bedroom bump underneath your fingers when you smooth your hand over it, “I want to forgive you. But all I keep thinking is that none of this would have happened to me if you had used all those brains in your head instead of all the insecurities in you heart.”

It’s like a slap across the face, and yet Spencer can’t help but feel like he deserves it. Even still, none of it hurts as much as the crack in your voice and the tears that you try so desperately to blink away before he can see them.

It isn’t often that Spencer Reid is rendered speechless, but the guilt and heartache have stolen all the words of every language and all the breath from the air right out of his mouth.

“It’s still so fresh in my mind, I think if we distance ourselves then we’ll be able to come back to something rather than trying to scramble to bridge together the chasm that has formed between us.”

He wants to argue, everything in him screams that he needs to fight for you, but the look in your eyes stops him. If you need space, then space is what he will give you. Spencer would do anything to make this right. He wishes he had the intelligence and technology to build a time machine and go back to two mornings ago.

“I understand,” he says solemnly, trying to talk around the hurt in his chest that is growing like a tumor. “But I promised I wouldn’t leave you. I’ll give you space, but I’m only giving you the space of the wall between this room and the hallway.”

And then he’s gone, staying true to his word and sinking to the floor outside your room. When you mother comes back, holding a collection of jellos and cookies and granola bars from the hospital cafeteria, her steps falter at the sight of the young doctor outside your door.

Inside you’re curled into yourself, taking very deliberate breaths into the cotton stuffed pillow you have buried into your chest. You half expect your heart monitor to be screaming for the nurses, but despite a small quickening in the constant beeps, it gives away none of your heartbreak.

“(Y/N)?” You look up, meeting your mothers eyes with tear stained cheeks. Your head is going to be throbbing later, but for now you’re only focused on the sharp pains shooting through your ribs and clouding every other pain in your body.

Between one gasp of air and the next, your mother drops all the foods to the chair vacated by Spencer before rushing to pull you into her arms.

“Can you die from a broken heart?” You whimper, feeling like a small child as you bury your head into her chest. She smells like home, running her hand over the back of your head with gentle shushing sounds.

Outside, Spencer wipes at his own tears, a silent statue of sadness protecting you from everything but himself.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #dr spence reid #spence reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds

[phoenixtakaramono]

Regarding the Future Chapter Updates of ‘Green and Gold’ (Harry Potter / Sesshomaru) on AO3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821292

BRIEF CONTEXT

This was actually my reply to a comment in ch15; a reader was asking if I considered Green and Gold to be complete—since it’s been awhile since the story has been updated—or if I’m planning on continuing (and, if so, what is my plan for its update schedule). After thinking about it, I figured for easy convenience just in case I receive a similar question in the foreseeable future, I might as well write my reply with the intention of posting it on my social medias (here and on twitter). This way I can link them my tumblr post/ my twitter tweet regarding its status!

THE FULL AO3 REPLY:

🤔 I believe in full transparency between a writer and their readers. And if it’s like TUT where other readers do read my replies to Comments, then this is beneficial for others to see too. (=^▽^)σ Like an official writer’s statement!

There is a very long and detailed answer below so the TL;DR is: G&G is not abandoned but there is no schedule of updates for any of my stories. I never know when an update is coming; I usually let my followers know on my social medias the week of when an update is coming out (at this point the chapter is ~90% written, or it’s in its last draft phase and I’m just going through the last revisions). WIP progress bars also exist on my tumblr, and whatever the current trend of reblogged content is on there is usually an indication of whichever WIP I’m working on. As a multifandom writer who is aware that she is slower than other writers (with four WIPs all in different fandoms and all with different writing styles) and wants to preserve the magic of each story by preventing accidental bleedovers, I always advise readers to put a story of mine on Subscribe, so you’ll be notified whenever an update comes out in the future (ETA is always TBA: to be announced).

Detailed answer:

Note, what I’m planning is subject to change so take this with a grain of salt just in case: on tumblr and twitter I made a recent announcement that I’m thinking of finishing ‘The Untold Tale’ first (~20ish chapters) before refocusing on ‘Green and Gold’ (~40ish to ~60ish chapters). This is why I updated the summary of G&G to say “on temporary hiatus.” I also mentioned that if I’m “feeling it,” I may update G&G in between updates of TUT if I’m in a G&G mood.

Mainly this decision came after pondering over which method can best guarantee I can finish a WIP instead of all four WIPs being in a perpetual state of incompleteness. And this is the decision^ I’m tentatively going with for now. Since G&G is longer and there already exists 16 chapters on AO3, I decided it’s better to put this story on temporary hold so I can hopefully finish another story of mine which is tonally similar (it actually borrows an idea from G&G, but it’s a twist that’s meant to be revealed in G&G Arc 2 spoiler alert: it’s my interpretation/ twist on MOD!Harry; I’m making him celestial; it’s the reason why in this story I decided to make Arc 2’s villain “Princess Kaguya” and begun foreshadowing her very early on in Arc 1) but TUT is also planned to be much shorter than the estimated chapter count for G&G.

Unfortunately I have no idea yet of the update schedule for G&G besides what I’ve written here. As only one writer, there’s only so much free time I have after work, and I can only focus on one story at a time. (As much as I would like to work on four stories simultaneously, it’s impossible! QAQ) There’s also a process I usually go through where I have to intentionally erase my memory of whatever I had been working on previously and re-immerse myself in whatever story I’m looking to update (which means rereading my WIP, rereading/ rewatching canon source materials, checking my notes, etc) so I can recapture the characters’ voices and hopefully prevent unintentional bleedovers from my other WIPs. Imagine a computer with memory storage that is full. I have to delete it to make space for new files. Rinse and repeat. And this is essentially my writing process.

For G&G, Arc 1 (the first half of this story) has been fully planned out (set mostly in modern wizarding Britain). It just requires me to transcribe my notes into legible paragraph forms. For Arc 2, I’ll still need to fix somethings (set in feudal Japan) such as rearranging some scenes and editing down some planned ideas so it’s hopefully not as long as ~60ish chapters because I’m hoping to lessen the burden on myself and actually finish G&G. I want G&G to be a satisfying read where, once you read the end, you can come away from the epic with the feeling of “the story of Harry and Sesshomaru is complete; I’m glad I gave this crossover crackship a try; it’s well worth the time spent.”

Next chapter is essentially...ah, I have it ready in notes form. I just need to wring out enough motivation to write it in a particular writing mindset because it’s a rather depressing subject ^^; it’s Sesshomaru being given permission to use a Pensieve to see Harry’s memories (glimpses of events from Book 1-7, but in Sesshomaru’s POV of canon HP events). I shared a huge sneak peek of it to a reader in TUT ch4 comments if you’d like to check it out~. I feel kinda bad because while I’m excited to triumphantly return after a long period of hiatus with a update for G&G (I will definitely make a note to celebrate it in my Beginning Notes, hah), it’s a depressing chapter (for me at least to write). So I need to be in a particular mindset so I can hopefully convey the right emotions when you all are able to read it!

The best recommendation I would like to give my G&G readers is: please be patient! It’s not dropped/ discontinued! And be sure to Subscribe to G&G so when it’s updated, y’all will be notified in your Inbox. (I’ll also tweet and post on tumblr giving the heads-up of whichever story I’m working on, and let everyone know the week of when a story is about to be updated. I also tell my readers, if you want an indication of which story I’m probably focusing on, to either check my tweets or check the content that I reblog on tumblr. If it’s from a particular fandom, I’m probably working on updating a fic from that particular fandom.)

You guys have waited these many years; what is a little bit more? :) You all are the best and have amazing patience with this slow writer, and I’m so impressed by all of you. Definitely I promise I will return one day to the world of ‘Green and Gold.’ Sesshomaru’s and Harry’s story is not over yet. I have so many exiting things in store for all of you, it is well worth the wait!

(If you wish to read the full conversation in its entirety, you can read the parent thread here.)

TWITTER STATEMENT

Tysm everyone who gave my rarepair crossover (Harry Potter/ Sesshomaru) fic a try! I’m beyond grateful for everyone’s love and support on AO3, all the comments & all the fanart, for such a crackship concept

Regarding its temporary hiatus status, a more detailed explanation ⬇️

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821292

🌙⚡ Harry Potter, InuYasha

🌙⚡ Harry Potter/Sesshomaru, canon-compliant side couples

🌙⚡ modern wizarding Great Britain, feudal Japan (mostly post-epilogue canon compliant)

🌙⚡ ch 16/ ?

(You can read the tweet here.)

#harry potter #sesshomaru #inuyasha #crossover #harry potter crossover #phoenixtakaramono #phoenix talks #ask #technically this is not an ask #but I’m putting it there for future tag search convenience #this is not a call out post btw it’s just so I can share my reply with my readers who have been waiting for G&G #to clear up any confusion this story is not abandoned/ discontinued/ dropped #I will return to G&G eventually #I promise the wait will be worth it

[dam-mango-cheese]

ok hi I just wanted to come on here to say that this fandom really needs to get our shit together. it's not just about the toxicity and stuff, it's the rude and toxic things we've normalized to the point that we don't even notice when someone does it. so here goes a list of stuff we need to stop doing also I'm pissed rn sorry if I come off as rude. this is also not directed at anyone in particular so please don't take offense.

uh giving credit????? "giving credit who??" you may ask. well. let's start with artists. if you repost someone's art, pLEASE for the love of god give credit. it's not that hard. if you find art on google, pinterest, etc. and don't know who to credit, then don't post it??? it really is that easy. or you could do a reverse image search, if you don't know how to do that on your device, google it. if you don't know what google is?? go back to that rock you were living under before thanks.

moving onto the second part of the giving credit point. CHECK THEIR PROFILE BEFORE POSTING. many artists don't allow reposts. or sometimes they want you to ask for permission first. some artists also allow "normal" reposts but not for example in video edits. so please do check their bio and/or any highlights titled "important!" or something similar.

next we have the way of crediting. please do tag the artist in the actual post. so many people tend to just mention them in the caption. some even do it with the @/username instead of directly tagging them. I know for a fact most people prefer to be tagged in the actual post so please do. it's literally not that hard I don't see the problem?????

now pls remember to credit people who make textposts or memes too. an artist might spend more time on an artwork then your average meme maker spends on a post, but it's still important to credit them. even if we don't spend AS much time on our posts, doesn't mean we don't spend time on them. we take time out of our personal life to make posts for your enjoyment and if you think my post is good enough to repost you should certainly have the decency to at least give me credit tyvm.

now if you found the post on tumblr, twitter, etc. and don't know who to credit??? don't post it. or at least search their @ on instagram to see if they have the same/similar instagram username. you can also dm them on tumblr/twt/whatever and ask them if it's ok that you repost their stuff on instagram and if they have an instagram @ they would want you to use. if you don't do any of these at least write their username from another platform in the caption and mention to those who see the post on which platforms they can find whoever made the posts. that was a little messy but i hope it made sense.

i also wanna point out that the tagging point stands for memes, textposts, etc. too. it's really annoying when people can't bother to tag someone in the actual post. it's literally easier than tagging them in the caption what's the fkn problem?????

kinda like the last point but please tag both artists and other credits. like I'll see people who tag the artist on the first slide and then only tag textpist credits in the caption or just not credit memes and stuff at all???? like why?? if you know how to give credit to artists why is it so hard to do the same for other content?

finally moving on to something else. let's address the opinion stuff. this one's gna be short because my brain is empty rn. just let people have their own opinions. there's no need for you to go and state yours under someone else's post. usually all it does is to stir up drama, and believe me, no one wants that. this is especially to the people who can't state their opinion respectfully. if your opinion involves dragging someone else down or making them feel bad for what they think?? don't say it. don't. it doesn't make anyone feel better about anything and it's just rude and disrespectful. stop. thank you.

to the hardcore, toxic percabeth shippers: no <3. it's not cool of you to be 🤪the most hardcore percabeth shipper ever™️🤪. it's not a competition. it's just annoying. someone makes a perachel post??? big deal, none of your business. why does it matter that they ship perachel and you don't?? it's literally not a big deal let them have their opinion pls. someone says they ship pipabeth???? "NO PERCABETH IS THE ELITE SHIP FOREVER!!!!!!!!!!" 🤌throw your device across the room to release your anger🤌

now I've had this in my drafts for a while and one time I accidentally posted it, someone saw it before I had time to delete it and dm'd me to ask if all of this also applies when you reblog/retweet. obviously if you screenshotted someone's post or art all of the points above still stand. but if you just reblog or retweet, the original posters username will automatically showed and accessible so it's totally fine!

#yes i realize this is 90% about giving credit bc i literally could not come up with anything else #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson fandom #riordanverse #rick riordan #percy jackson #pjato

[zelkam]

Getting to Know You

tagged by @lanyuan - thank you so much for tagging me! ✨

why did you choose your url?

so this is actually super dumb, but it’s a name I came up with when I was still in elementary school and it’s actually a gummy bear reference bc it’s “żelka” in Polish and it was my favorite type of candy 😅; actually I’ve been kinda thinking that I should change it because some minecraft streamer started using the same name and got somewhat popular, making finding my stuff way harder; but at this point I got too used to it since people know me by this name and often call me “Zel” and also I'm too tired to do something about it at this point 🙄 also I’m stubborn

any side-blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

two actually! I have an art blog @zelkams-art to - obviously - post my art + a tiny studyblr @anetastudies for some aesthetic pictures of coffee and stationery and study/research tips and resources that I wanna save! 

how long have you been on tumblr?

uhhh since like 2011/2012 I think? not sure when exactly and I can’t check because I had to remake in 2014 [long story short I accidentally deleted my main instead of a sideblog *honk honk*]

do you have a queue tag?

I don’t use queue - if you see me posting then it’s me clicking that little reblog button, so what if it’s 5am

why did you start your blog in the first place?

....to find Naruto and Bleach fanart

why did you choose your icon/pfp?

it’s Hanguang-june babey 

why did you choose your header?

I wanted something CQL-related, so I went with this wangxian art of mine because it’s my fave thing I’ve draw from the series so far + I edited it to match the black-red-white color combo

what’s your post with the most notes?

uhhh it would be this Yuri on Ice pic that I drew after the Ice Adolescence trailer was released, since it got on the tumblr radar and kinda skyrocketed after that

how many people do you follow?

1131, but that’s reduced from over 1800 not so long ago; but I’d say that like 80% of them are other artists and not blogs that post daily

have you ever made a shitpost?

nothing spectacular but I’ve made a few dumb posts along the way

how often do you use tumblr each day?

too much, especially lately 😬

did you have a fight/argument with a blog once?

I absolutely bolt at any sight of drama, sometimes before it even starts, so nope

how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this post’?

*scrolls down faster*

do you like tag games?

yeah! though I sometimes don’t know who to tag next or I’m too shy with some people, even if we’re mutuals 😅

do you like ask games?

yes! though for quite a long time I didn’t post them because I felt like no one would ask and it would be awkward, but it looks like you guys actually do send me stuff :0 (idk I’ve been trying ot be a bit more social on here lately)

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

what even is tumblr famous lmao; I mean there are some Very Cool People, but I’d also say that it’s more fandom-specific, not actually in relation to the whole website? 

do you have a crush on a mutual?

as much as I like you guys, the answers is nah, we’re all just little icons

I’m gonna tag @still-snowing, @glorfindels, @mjsakurea, @faelise and @everdoeswriting! (ofc if you haven’t done this before and only if you want to!)

#tag games

[theres-a-goldensky]

26 + 2 Various BL Series Fic Recs

Fandoms included in this fic rec list: Love By Chance, TharnType, Until We Meet Again, My Engineer, 2 Moons, HIStory3: Trapped (plus a bit of bonus Theory of Love and WHY R U?)

I’ve found a handful of good fics for all of these tiny pairings that I am newly obsessed with, and I thought I’d share them with you if you’re also looking for something good to read. Please, if you have recs of your own, point me in the direction of any other good stuff!

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

IT chapter 2 list one and two - Reddie 

Good Omens - Aziraphale/Crowley

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

(All recs are complete) (I’ve noted pairings, length, and rating, but not any warnings or additional tags.)

** denotes personal favorite

LOVE BY CHANCE / THARNTYPE

1. the count up series by sweetiejelly - Tin/Can - ~34,000 words, explicit - A fix-it fic post-canon where Tin and Can slowly work out their issues with some missteps and learning along the way.

So two weeks later, when Can first does it, Tin doesn't know what to do. For the longest while, he just turns off his phone screen. And then turns it back on.

good night, tin. it's been a while but i promised to say good night. so, good night, sleep well.

Every damn time the text is still there.

In the end, Tin deletes it.

The next morning, Can does it again.

good morning, tin. looks like rain today. don't forget your umbrella.

Tin deletes it.

The texts keep coming.

2. ** LBC Aftermath series by Mara - LBC/TharnType crossover- ~6700 words, mature - Were you too horrified by Techno’s ending in LBC? This author feels your pain and did her part to get some justice for Techno. This fic has zero sympathy for Kengkla, which I deeply appreciated. This will help you work out some of your anger. It features LBC!Techno and the TharnType versions of Tharn and Type. Mind the warnings, since this deals with the serious consequences of Kengkla’s actions.

Kengkla stayed at the house through the morning and Techno was so jumpy he nearly leaped out of his skin every time Kla looked at him or talked to him. Even though Kla had explained what happened and how he wasn’t upset to be dating, Techno still felt weird. He kind of wished he remembered what had happened. A guy should remember how he lost his virginity, right?

Kla grabbed him in a big hug and Techno froze, managing a weak grin when Kla pulled back to smile at him. “I’ve got to go home now. But I’ll call you later. Let me know if you go somewhere.”

“O-okay.” Techno stared as the boy let himself out the front door.

3. 5 + 1 by strokeofluck - Tin/Can- ~3600 words, rated general - This is a sweet story about the times when Pete sees Tin having feelings for Can. 

Pete weighed his options as he glanced back and forth between Tin and Can. Can didn’t seem to be bothered by the whole thing, he even had a shy smile on his face. Or at least, Pete thought it was a shy smile, he had never really seen this kind of expression coming from Can before.

He could let this whole thing go, he supposed, but he didn’t really want to. It was time for him to finally say to Tin: I told you so.

“You were born in Bangkok,” he said, casting a wide net and hoping Can would find himself caught in it.

Can did.

4. That Testified Surprise by Mara - Techno/Tharn/Type - ~7000 words, mature - This is a LBC canon rewrite that stars the TharnType version of all three characters. Type realizes something is not...quite...right with Kengkla and invites Techno to stay with him and Tharn instead of going home drunk.

Pouring Techno into the passenger seat, Type sat down in the driver’s seat and pulled the phone out to check it, entering the passcode. (The passcode was the birthday of Thai national football team captain Siwarak Tedsungnoen, of course. Duh.)

Fuck, it looked like Nic had been either texting or calling every 20 minutes since they got to the bar. What was up there?

Scrolling back through the evening’s texts, Type scowled harder. Loving brother or not, this was fucking creepy. Going back farther, it looked like it was a pattern. Did the kid do anything other than pester his brother about his whereabouts?

THARNTYPE

5. everything he wants by minkit - ~5100 words, explicit - Type accidentally ruins one of Tharn’s shirts and agrees to do whatever Tharn wants to make up for it. Which means it’s porn stretched over the bare bones of a plot, and it’s great. 

Tharn’s hands moved across the bed, slowly, inch by inch and it was frustrating because Type knew they were heading to him, but Tharn took his sweet time. And then they were covering his hands and Tharn’s face was mere centimeters from his and Type could barely breathe. It took everything he had not to lean forward and capture those lips that also belonged to him, but he had a feeling if he tried, Tharn wouldn’t let him. He had that look on his face and Type knew what it meant.

He knew he was in for a long rest of the night.

6. You’ve Got Mail by perthbysaint - ~7800 words, explicit - Type sends Tharn nudes at the most inconvenient times.

A selfie? From Type? Tharn was thanking all of his lucky stars as he happily taps to load the image. The picture loads and Tharn’s phone slips from his suddenly lax grip. Convinced he couldn’t have just seen what he thought he just saw, he picks his phone up hastily and stares very intently at the picture.

It’s a mirror selfie, obviously taken in a changing room, but that thought comes secondary to thighs. Type is holding the camera in front of his face to take the picture, shirt clenched in his other hand and pulled up slightly to show off the shorts. The fucking shorts. He had seen Type in his soccer gear before and yes, Type has most definitely asked for the wrong size and Tharn is more grateful than he’s ever been for anything in his whole life. The shorts are riding up so high they can’t cover more than a few inches of skin, Type’s smooth, powerful thighs on full display. On the inside of his left thigh, there’s a tiny purple mark peeking out from under the bottom of the shorts. Tharn knows exactly what it is because he was the one who left it there just two days ago when he sucked marks into Type’s thighs for a half-hour before he slung Type’s legs over his shoulders and ate him out until Type was sobbing fat tears and begging Tharn to let him come.

7. pet names series by LokelaniRose - ~50,000 words, explicit - A series of post-episode fics that gives us the sex that the show only hinted at, starting with the shower scene.

Tharn prides himself on his self-control. All his passion and intensity is saved for his music, when he’s safely behind a drum kit and can let it all out. He’s never been as irritated by anyone else as he is by Type and all his playground bullying nonsense. Something about the other boy just shakes something loose inside him, rattles at Tharn’s iron discipline until he has to grit his teeth constantly not to just – what? Kiss him? Kill him? Tharn has enough composure (and pride) to put up a front that’s all smiles and wry amusement, but really he regularly skips between one of two daydreams – twisting Type’s head off or fucking him into the ground.

(Tharn is absolutely not going to admit to the third set of daydreams, of curling up around Type when he’s cold or cheering him on at matches or bringing him home to meet Tharn’s father. Nope, no, definitely not.)

2MOONS SERIES

8. ** The universe where we do not commit reckless, unlubricated buttsex by startledoctopus - Forth/Beam - ~8700 words, explicit - This is a great story about Beam giving in and trying to seduce Forth the same way he seduced all of those girls in his past. This Forth is great, and the story retcons their first time to something far more pleasant for Beam.

   "We're heading into a unit on disorders of the spine and I need to review my basic skeletal and muscular anatomy. But it feels stupid to keep studying these weird-looking diagrams and drawings." None of this was, strictly speaking, factual, but an engineering major wouldn't know any different. Beam gathered up all his bravado, walked behind Forth, and began rucking up his shirts as if this were completely normal.

   "What! I..."

   "Shut up, I need to look at a real back so I know what I'll be looking at as a doctor." Forth let him take the shirts off, glancing back at him several times but giving in meekly to Beam's stern look. Forth shuffled the papers some more.

   "All right. Okay, um...Ah!" Beam smirked at Forth's reaction as he ran his thumbs down the nape of his neck.

9. Good Things Come To by sweetiejelly - Ming/Kit - ~4300 words, explicit - Kit gets drunk and reveals more of his feelings for Ming than he probably means to.

"Hmm." Kit closes his eyes and leans his head back on the headrest. "Ming, Ming, Ming. Do you know your name's a kiss? I'm kissing the air everytime I say 'Ming'!" Kit pops his mouth and it pops Ming's mind a bit. "And then I think about kissing you. Why do you make me think about you so damn much? You're so annoying, Ming. No one's ever..." and Kit leans to the side, almost like he's going to conk out or throw up, only to straighten back up. "... made me this crazy."

Oh shit. Ming doesn't know what to do with all of this information. He knew somewhere deep down that Kit likes him. Kit's eyes can't lie. Kit's mouth can't either, the cusses coming out whenever he's keyed up and flustered, and then there are his kisses.

10 + 11. ** how to fail flirt your way into his heart (a guide by Kit) and a little conversation (and a little action please) by sweetiejelly - Ming/Kit - ~30,000 words, explicit in the second part - This story makes a tiny plot divergence. It has Kit put a little more effort into finding out if Ming is really into Yo and then from there, it loosely follows the plot of the show with some key differences. I really enjoyed this.

"Can I have your number?" Kit mentally face-palms. Why? Damn Pha. Damn Beam. Just damn everything, ugh. He has never flirted in his life. Pin asked him out, okay? He doesn't know how to do this. "I'm Kit, Phana's friend," he says, trying to make it less weird.

"I'm Ming. And of course, P'Kit!" Ming flashes him an easy grin and holds out his hand.

Oh right, the phone. Kit shoves it at Ming, nearly hitting him in the chest. Great, he's acing this.

Ming smiles at him, bemused or confused, probably both, and brushes his hand, totally unnecessarily, over the back of Kit's hand as he takes the phone. "In case of emergency, right?" Ming looks up at him from under his lashes and boy, this nong is brazen.

12. ** In Control series by LokelaniRose - Ming/Kit - ~27,000 words, explicit - Kit struggles to tell Ming that he wants something other than the careful, gentle sex they’ve been having. Ming discovers that Kit has some anxiety and panic problems. He also discovers what helps him feel better. [spoilers: these two things are connected.] I love how attentive and caring Ming is throughout this series. The anxious Kit also rings true to the character we saw on the show.

But now that Kit is fretting over things, he might as well fret over this as well. So Ming is great in bed. And let’s be honest, Kit probably isn’t. He hasn’t had a hundred previous partners – okay, tiny exaggeration, but still – and doesn’t know all the fancy moves and techniques and tricks…and just like everything else, in bed Ming is somehow casual and sincere at the same time. He never seems to want anything except what Kit wants, is always happy to do whatever, to take his time making slow, gentle love to Kit. Kit knows that he always comes at least – he secretly really likes it when Ming comes, he’s not quite sure why – but what if there’s more that Kit could be doing, to make it better for him? If Kit was better in bed maybe it would make up for being a shitty boyfriend in other areas, one who can’t be nice in public or talk about his feelings.

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

13. another nightmare fic by itsmylifekay - Win/Team - ~2300 words, not rated - Team tries to sleep without Win and it doesn’t go well. 

Team’s room feels suffocating, the air too thick and the space too dark and the covers sticking to his skin with sweat. His breaths are too loud in the quiet, but the quiet itself is deafening. It reminds him of the water. The muted sounds. The frantic pounding of his heart. (The same one he feels now echoed in his chest.)

Flashes of the dream come back to him unbidden.

Everything is too dark, too bright, no way to see what way is up or what way is down. He’s trapped. Can’t get out. Can’t breathe.

14. ** Different With You by blackrose9212 - Win/Team - ~6900 words, teen - It’s open swim week, which means that the swimming club offers free lessons to any of the students who would like to participate. Team doesn’t understand why his teammates hate it so much - until he does. Great jealousy in this one from both sides. 

“Nice to meet you,” the boy gushes. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to join your group. Auntie said there needs to be at least three people, and no one was sitting across from you two. I’ve been paying attention so I already have ideas. Is that okay?” Team watches as he pulls out his books and drops them onto the table, pushing them a little farther out so they’re nearly touching Win’s notebook.

Team shrugs. “Sure, that’s fine. I don’t think Win has been paying attention so I’m glad you have an idea of what’s going on.”

Win hits him lightly at the back of the hand and Film giggles behind his hand. “Oh, no, P’Win looks very smart. I’m sure he’s been listening.” He looks at Win and smiles a little, blushing when Win gives him a smile back.

Team looks between the two of them. Then back at Film, who’s watching Win leaf through his literature textbook like he’s never seen anything so beautiful, and then past Film at the table he left from, where he sees three boys, laughing behind their hands and making cooing faces.

15. seven hundred thirteen by Kiranokira - Win/Team - ~6800 words, mature - Win spends two years abroad in England, and he and Team have to navigate a long distance relationship. It’s very sweet and written very true to life. 

“I kind of hoped you were going to show up at the airport tomorrow morning and chase the plane,” Win says. He kisses Team’s hair, lingering there to memorize the fresh, clear scent.

Team says, “Is it weird that I thought about doing that?” and Win feels him smile against his shoulder.

It’s late, nearly nine thirty, and Win had plans of how to spend tonight that can’t be realized anymore. He wanted to invite Team to dinner with his family. He wanted to play video games with Team and View. He wanted to talk about London with Waan and Team. He wanted to include Team in his family’s warmth in some small way, to make him feel less lonely.

He can’t do any of that now but he still wants to sneak Team upstairs and have him in his arms all night. He wouldn’t, but he wants to. It’s been a month since he moved off campus permanently, and weeks since he was last able to spend a night alone with Team.

16. ** You Can Cry by Kiranokira - Win/Team - ~19,600 words, mature - Win goes missing while on vacation with some friends. Team is left at home trying to handle it. I like the way the author built up to the accident happening. They did a good job creating tension and showing us exactly how Team felt about Win. And spoilers, this story has a happy ending.

“You’re going to fail out of university,” Team tells him. “You’re not really going, are you?”

Win rolls onto his side and perches his cheek on his hand. “What if I say yes?” he asks. “Will you miss me?”

Team’s warning look is more venomous than usual. “Not at all,” Team says, and Win smirks because that isn’t true and they both know it. “You still shouldn’t go. What if you miss the flight back? You’ll fail out and I’ll break up with you for being a dumbass.”

The very recent phenomenon of Team acknowledging that they’re a couple has its usual melting effect on Win’s heart.

2GETHER

17. ** Love Songs on Our Skin series by Kari_Kurofai - Sarawat/Tine - ~15,700 words, explicit - A soulmark AU where Tine is born with the notes to a song that hasn’t yet been written wrapped around his chest. I enjoyed how Tine’s obliviousness in the show carries over to this fic. 

Only Mr. Chic would have a song no one had ever fucking heard of permanently etched on his chest. For fuck's sake .

Still, he waves it off, and he tries not to look too closely at other people's marks. Tries being the key word. He doesn't envy the elegant watercolors of a guitar pick and an open novel he catches sight of on the wrists of some couple's interlinked hands when he's in town. And he certainly doesn't envy the dude he once saw in a coffee shop with the words " I hate you " scrawled across the back of his neck. But yeah, okay, he might be a little jealous of the people who are lucky enough to have something as simple as their soulmate's name on their skin. That definitely isn't fair.

"Why couldn't it at least have been a Scrubb song?" he asks the mirror as he wipes it clear shower-born condensation. The mirror and him are well acquainted with this conversation by now. In fact, the mirror sees the stupid mark more than anyone, so it might as well put up with his equally stupid questions. "It could have been 'Together.' Just think of it, how romantic it would be to meet some cute girl's eyes after bumping into them at a concert, my favorite song playing . . ." He draws a nail over the winding bars of the music on his chest, frowning. "That would be so much easier."

18. Drown Your Sorrows by HyacinthsSoul - 2gether/Theory of Love - Sarawat and Third meet at a bar and bond over being in love with oblivious men.

“No, he’s an angel,” Sarawat says. “Unfortunately he’s a very stupid, very straight angel.”

“Mine’s stupid too,” the other man admits. “But definitely no angel. I’m Third, by the way,” he adds, offering a slender hand to shake.

“Sarawat,” says Sarawat. “Can I buy you another? I think we’re drinking the same thing, although I can’t remember what it’s called.”

20. ** Your Body Is My Instrument by Kari_Kurofai - Sarawat/Tine - ~12,000 words, explicit - This fic does a good job doing what, in this reccer’s humble opinion, the series failed to: showing Tine attracted to Sarawat. There’s great first time sex and some fun sexual tension. Plus, we get to see them switch off, which is extremely rare in BL. And most importantly: hand kink.

It starts innocently enough. Or, well, innocently enough for a guy whose first words to him were, “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll kiss you till you drop.” So, you know. It starts kinda like that.

They’ve been officially dating for a grand sum total of three days and altogether not that much has changed. Except that Sarawat touches him more now. Normally this would be fine, no big deal, right? But Sarawat has magic, evil hands, and apparently all he has to do is glance Tine’s way to deduce the exact right places and ways to touch Tine to drive him up the fucking wall.

And the worst part is it’s almost never the same place or the same way twice, and the only warning Tine ever gets is that sneaky little glint Sarawat gets in his eyes just before he does it, the bastard.

MY ENGINEER

21. Cool Boy(friend) by HyacinthsSoul - Ram/King - ~22,000 words, explicit - So this is technically a WIP, but each chapter feels like a completed fic without a cliffhanger or anything. This is a very sweet, comfortable story about King and Ram getting to know each other as their relationship develops.

In the selfie King sends, he’s holding up a full shot glass while someone’s arm reaches into the frame to hand him another kind of drink, something tall with a straw and a paper umbrella. Ram frowns. Whose arm is that? The person is wearing a red long-sleeved shirt, which doesn’t match what any of their friend group was wearing, and the engineer bar doesn’t offer table service.

Frowning, Ram looks back through the previous photos until he spots a detail he’d overlooked before: a red-shirted man at a neighboring table. He’s visible in the background of two or three pictures taken by Tee, and in each of them he’s staring intently at King.

Not that it’s any of Ram’s business. Not that he cares.

HISTORY3: TRAPPED

22. it’s too late (to turn back now) by stebeee - Tang Yi/Meng Shao Fei - ~7200 words, general audiences - Canon divergence fic where Tang Yi pushes Shao Fei away after he saves Hong Ye in order to try and protect him. Shao Fei reacts to that about as well as you’d expect.

“Tang Yi, what do you mean-“

“I think you’ve fooled around for long enough,” Tang Yi interrupts, his voice cold, nothing like the man who had dabbed at his lips with a cotton bud last night, the man who had smiled at him when he made the cannon joke.

“You’ve disrupted my life, and the life of my family and friends in the past few weeks, Meng Shao Fei. This has gone for long enough,” he continues, unwavering. “I don’t want to have anything more to do with you. Take a good rest here in the hospital, and I’ll get someone to pack up your things back at the house. Jack will deliver it back to your apartment.”

23 + 24. ** just waiting, waiting (on you) and between you and me by stebeee - Tang Yi/Meng Shao Fei - ~16,000 words, general audiences - These are stories about how Shao Fei and the rest of the gang deal over the years when Tang Yi is in jail. Found family fics are my jam, so I loved this.

The thing is, it’s been almost three months of this. 90 days, give or take. 2,160 hours. 129,600 minutes. And more than 7 million seconds of this — not having Tang Yi at his side.

Shao Fei wonders for a moment if he will ever stop seeing Tang Yi in every corner of the house. When he comes down the stairs in the morning, some part of him expects to see Tang Yi standing at the kitchen island with a bright smile, asking him if he wants jam with his toast that morning. Shao Fei sees Tang Yi in that apron he loves, cooking at the stove when he fixes himself dinner, alone in the spacious kitchen. Seeing Tang Yi’s favourite blue bathrobe, Shao Fei can almost see Tang Yi leaving the bathroom, his hair all wet and falling over his eyes.

25. amuse bouche by sarahyyy - Jack/Zhao Zi - ~2400 words, general audiences - This is more of Jack seducing Zhao Zi through food and attention. So basically an extension of the show. Mother hen Jack is the cutest.

“Jack?” Zhao Zi murmurs blearily. “Why are you here?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Jack shoots back, herding Zhao Zi back into the house. He checks for Zhao Zi’s temperature with the back of his hand. “Fever?”

“Just the flu for now, I think?” Zhao Zi says.

Jack purses his lips. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“I had some bread earlier?” Zhao Zi says, but he also looks shifty enough that Jack mostly takes it with a grain of salt.

26. Absolutely Nothing Goes Wrong by anon - Jack/Zhao Zi - ~4500 words, teen - This is an AU where Zhao Zi is the son of a rival mob boss, but he’s still, you know HIMSELF. And when his father says he’s useless, he decides to prove him wrong by seducing Tang Yi’s second-in-command. It’s absolutely adorable.

The man pulled him by the arm, resisting Zhao Zi’s attempts to unhook his claws without causing a scene.

“Hey, stop grabbing me!” he shouted, as the other man played deaf.

“While I admit this is a very loud bar, I didn’t think it was quite so easy to mishear what this young man just yelled straight into your ear,” a newcomer who’d witnessed their conflict said lightly as he walked up to them. His words were accompanied by a wide, almost chilling smile. Zhao Zi blinked once and the odd peculiarity of that smile vanished, leaving just a regular smile in its place. He must’ve just been imagining things under the harsh shadows of the dimly lit bar.

AND +2

Because I’m shameless, I’ll add my own two fics to the end, if you’re interested.

WHY R U?

27. Sorry A Thousand Times - Fighter/Tutor - ~3200 words, explicit - This is a canon divergence for the series finale. I needed more catharsis after the intensity of episode 12.

Tutor narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists at his sides. He took a deep breath. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone before you listen?” he asked. I don’t know how many more times I can bring myself to say it.

“Only once,” Fight said and then added, “if you mean it.”

Tutor crossed his arms over his chest and said, “What makes you think I don’t mean it now?”

The corner of Fight’s mouth turned up and he took a step closer. Tutor stumbled back until he was stopped by his legs hitting the edge of the bed. Fight reached out a hand and gently ran the back of his fingers over the line of Tutor’s jaw.

Until We Meet Again

28. Dream On - Win/Team - 8900 words, explicit - Takes place alongside show canon, so that we see how the bed sharing began and how Win and Team’s relationship developed over that year.

“Do you want to do well tomorrow?” Win asked, throwing one of his legs over both of Team’s.

“Yes,” Team said as he did his best to put some space between them on the tiny mattress.

“Then you need to get some sleep. I’m helping.”

“How is this helping?” Team demanded.

“Would you stop…” Win said, shifting closer every time Team pulled away. “Five minutes, Team. Just be still for five minutes, okay?”

#until we meet again #uwma #win/team #winteam #fic recs #fic rec list #bl fic recs #j9 #2moons #2moons2 #mingkit #ming/kit #forthbeam #forth/beam #love by chance #lbc #tincan #tin/can #mean/plan #2wish #uwma fic #2moons fic #tharntype #tharntype fic #mew/gulf #history 3: trapped #jack/zhao #tang yi/meng shao fei #history 3: trapped fic #lbc techno fix-it

[sovietbarnes]

this is late as fuuuuck but here we go lol tagged by@svartalfheimr <3 thank you!!

oh shit there were two posts from you that I forgot about ahh my bad D:

vent crawling or rappelling off the senate building | 79's or dex's | massiffs or tookas | speeder mods or blaster mods | pod racing or sabaac | deal with civvies or deal with senators | prison duty or drunk tank duty | thorn's armor or fox's armor | escort missions or senate shifts | early mornings or late nights | cold caf or no caf | standing guard or paper work | be targeted or be overlooked

and now the big one:

1. Why did you choose your url?

When you tagged me I had a different url so I will respond for both. sithmaul- idk I just really like Darth Maul and it sounded cool. I used slthmaul (with an L instead of an i) for a real long time because sithmaul was being held by someone, but eventually it was released and I finally got it! sovietbarnes- I just also really like Bucky Barnes and I love his comic storyline in which he was taken by the Soviets instead of Hydra and sovietbarnes also makes me feel buckynat feelings. I've had this url for years and it has always been one of my faves

2. Any side blogs?

I have a separate account with a k-pop blog that I haven't touched in a solid 6 years

3. How long have you been on Tumblr?

*sweats* I first joined tumblr in 2011 or 2012 so about ten years which is.. unsettling

4. Do you have a queue tag?

i used to have fun queue tags while using xkit, but I haven't been using it these days and I can't be bothered to manually tag everything especially since 95% of my posts are queued

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

bands. This was a good old fashioned band blog back in the days of yore

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

again I just really like Bucky and especially comic Bucky..

7. Why did you choose your header?

no header currently. I'm planning on making one soon, but I'm kind of enjoying just not having one for the time being

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

this is one of those times when I wish I didn't accidentally delete my entire account like an absolute fool, but I was able to find this one post from my old account floating around that has 926 notes.

9. How many mutuals do you have?

is there an easy way people are figuring this out or am I just supposed to count? 26, but about a third of those are now inactive lmao

10. How many followers do you have?

oof my old blog had over 2k i have 208

11. How many people do you follow?

165, I need more people to follow so feel free to give me some suggestions

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

every text post I've made is borderline a shitpost ahaa

13. How often do you use Tumblr each day?

too often. that's like half the reason I left, it got too distracting with school tbh

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

I have always pretty much completely avoided discourse so I don't think so. If I ever did it was really mild

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

instant ignore

16. Do you like tag games?

absolutely!

17. Do you like ask games?

I do! when I see someone else post them I will send an ask and I like reblogging them myself, but I haven't done so lately since I don't have many followers on this blog or many mutuals that I interact a lot with anymore so I don't get responses lol mayber in the future

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous?

aside from Shay i don't have the slightest clue, but I'm sure most of them have a follower count that would put me to shame

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

i'm pretty sure @janesfoster is my soul mate

20. Tags!

gonna skip tags on this one since it's a combo deal just for Svar

#me #svartalfheimr #tag games

[thescatteredscribbles]

Okay so silly me accidentally deleted your ask @booksnotbookies... so this post is a reply to that. I actually wasn’t planning to do any of the prompts as an ask game, which is why I put it reblogged it on my side blog for personal reference. I didn’t bother tagging it as for reference only because I didn’t think anyone would actually see it hahaha... but I’m so glad you asked! It inspired a snippet that I’m quite happy with! So thanks a lot :)

Prompt: “Wait. Don’t pull away... not yet.”

Leah stands at the ocean front, feet sinking into rough sand. The waves crash violently against the outcrop of rocks, every incoming tide a painful reminder of the inevitable coming and going, and the loss, always the loss. Even the waves don't stick around long enough to listen. The harsh wind whips at her hair, joining the deafening voice in her head, berating her for words long-buried, for people long-gone. Leah shuts her eyes, as if doing so could erase the pain, could erase the hurt, could erase the countless mistakes embedded in her existence. The sensation is all too familiar. The aching abyss filling her with empty, gnawing darkness. It's all so familiar, too familiar. Leah forces herself to open her eyes, take in the surroundings. The waves are still crashing onto the shore. The wind is still blowing in her ears. And everyone is still gone, gone, gone. She shivers in the cold, and briefly contemplates heading back to her mansion, emptying a bottle of whiskey. At least then her blood will drown in alcohol instead of this pathetic, miserable loneliness.      

Her spiralling thoughts are interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps. Instinctively, she straightens and quickly composes herself, running a hand through her tousled hair. She startles when she feels something heavy being placed on her shoulders. She turns to face Noah, a timid smile dancing on his lips. She tries to shrug off the coat, but Noah reaches out to pull it tighter around her.      

"Keep it on. It's cold." Her protest dies in her throat as she meets his concerned gaze. She shudders, not because of the freezing breeze that blows through her, but because of the terrifying unfamiliarity of the moment. She was used to being abandoned, being left alone. She could take that, after all, she was used to it. She wasn't sure she could take Noah. Noah with his crooked smile and understanding eyes and liquid warmth.      

"I'm going to tell you three scientific facts," Noah declares, his gentle voice piercing through the quiet. Leah raises an eyebrow in question, but remains silent.      

"One. The ocean isn't actually blue. Neither is the sky." Leah isn't sure where Noah is going with this, but she lets his voice ground her anyway. "The ocean, it's only blue because the water molecules and other particles absorb the red wavelength. Leaving the blue behind. So we see blue. It isn't, not actually. The sky too. The particles in our atmosphere scatter the sunlight. Blue wavelengths are shorter so they get scattered more. Neither is actually blue."      

"It happens, a lot of times. Reality gets so distorted that we end up seeing things that aren't actually there. Optical illusions of the heart. We think we know what's real. The sky's blue, the ocean's blue. No they're not." Leah keeps her gaze fixed on the grey clouds, her mind struggling to process the true meaning behind the soft-spoken statement.      

"Two. The stars are always there." Noah grins softly at that, his face upturned towards the sky. The fading sun rays illuminates him, a halo of light. The sight makes Leah's breath hitch. "We can't always see them, but that doesn't mean they're not there. They just get hidden, shrouded. By dark clouds. Or the sun that's just a bit too bright. A lot of beautiful things are like that. They get pushed away, shunned by other presumptuous, conceited, self-absorbed things. But those beautiful things never truly disappear, even when we can't see them. They're always there. Science says so." The words swirl dangerously in Leah's mind, as if unsure where to settle. A feather-light presence in a place all too dark and grisly.      

"We're wrong, so many times. We see colours that aren't there. We think that nothing bright ever stays, but we don't that those things are still there. We just can't see them. We become deluded. What we claim as reality is nothing but tricks of light." Leah feels Noah inch closer to her, his arm pressing against hers.      

"But sometimes, on very rare occasions, we see things precisely as they are. We see their raw beauty and marvel in it, we see the truth, our mind clear of illusions and tricks. We see things precisely as they are." Leah turns to find Noah gazing at her. The soft look in his eyes threatens to break her. She swallows the growing lump in her throat, blinking back tears.      

"No," she states weakly, "no we don't." Noah opens his mouth to argue but Leah presses on. "You're right. We humans, we are masters of distortions. That's who we are. We never see things the way we should. Mother Nature pulls pranks on us and we fall into her traps so easily. We never get things right. Things are always more beautiful than they seem. Or they're uglier than they are. We never get it right." A heavy silence follows, only filled by the whistle of the wind and the crashing waves.      

"You said you were going to tell me three facts. You've told me two, you still owe me one," Leah finally says, the quiet becoming too tense for her liking. Noah nods, pauses for a moment.      

"Three. Hugs release oxytocin." Leah lets out a short chuckle against her will. "It's true! Hugs release oxytocin. And oxytocin makes you feel better.  I know that doesn't quite connect to the previous two facts but I wasn't planning on someone being so argumentative..." Noah teases. Leah shakes her head, rolling her eyes. She feels the corners of her lips tick upwards, for the first time in days.  

"Anyway, hugs make your brain produce oxytocin, which is a hormone produced in your hypothalamus, and it's supposed to reduce stress and increase relaxation because it..." Leah cuts off his ramble with a soft tug on Noah's wrist, pulling him flush against her into a tight embrace. Noah freezes for a second before his hands settle on Leah's back. He leans in closer, wrapping her in his warmth. Leah tucks her face against Noah's, letting his musky scent mingle with the salty ocean air. Leah forces a sob down, but a few tears escape. Noah must have noticed the quiver in her shoulders, because he moves to run his hand through her hair, fingers threading soothingly. He sways them slowly, and suddenly the wind doesn't seem too harsh anymore. Leah feels her muscles relax, involuntarily relishing in the sensation that runs through her, one she can't remember ever feeling. She'll ruminate on the implications and consequences of the moment later. Just for a moment, she'll allow herself this.  A few minutes pass, and Noah starts to move away. Before Leah can stop herself, she tightens her arms around him, stopping his movements.      

"Wait. Don't pull away... not just yet," Leah protests, voice muffled. Noah lets out a breath of laughter, immediately tugging her back in.      

"I'll hold you for as long as you want," he whispers in her ear. The simple statement overpowers the other voices in her head, makes a different kind of warmth spread through her chest. In Noah's arms, Leah thinks she could probably hold off the bottle of whiskey for another night.

Taglist: @booksnotbookies @leah-yasmin-writes @wynterwind @writingbyjillian

#original #writing #writeblr #ask #the shield of silence #thescatteredscribbles